You watched from the window of a high tower as the sky was covered with gloomy thunderclouds, swallowing the sun and thus covering the earth in darkness. Bright fiery lightning occasionally struck the trees in the nearby forest, and the screams of the harpies flying over the castle were deafening.

Your mother was in labor in the tower next door, while your father was next to you, aiming his bow at the screaming harpies that kept flying until one of them landed on their balcony, looking up with huge purple eyes with narrow pupils.

Harpy: So she's expecting a baby? A child born in a thunderstorm will be as ugly as thunder itself. Uglier than thunder.

Then your father took the arrow in his hands and shot at her, but he missed and she flew away. An hour later you had a brother, Eteocles. It was a tiny, black-haired boy with languid, dark green eyes, like the forest itself. He was the complete opposite of the ugliness that the harpy had predicted for him.

Eteocles grew quickly and learned many things, just holding them in his hands for the first time, so that the people and his parents loved him, but he loved you. Only with you did his eyes acquire the color of spring leaves, they seemed to brighten in reality.

A rare thunder struck again outside the window, you watched, standing next to it, as if you were transported back 15 years, when your brother was born. As soon as you thought about him, you felt warm arms wrap around your shoulders from behind. His face dropped onto one of your shoulders and his nose gently rubbed your cheek, as if to calm you down just in case.

Eteocles: Yes, the thunder today is terrible. And loud.