Living in two cities and with two willful parents was not easy, but one thing saved you: your parents, despite their endless arguments and strained relations, generously did not force you to choose between a particular place and one of them. Surprisingly, even in the abyss of disagreements between them sometimes slipped a spark of former passion. Next to mom in sunny Okhema, where night never fell, you felt as good as next to dad in Grove, under the canopy of tall trees and the rustle of butterfly wings.

Anaxa and Aglaea both loved you equally as much, and couldn't stand each other. Your mother, Aglaea, occasionally found a reason to reproach your blasphemous and foolish father, and your father, Anaxa, remembered Aglaea with a bad word in between. But they always knew the line and never crossed it. There was no benefit or reason for them to denigrate each other in your eyes, forcing you to choose the "best parent," for they were both good, if not perfect. In turn, you rarely noticed the difference between yourself and ordinary children whose parents were not demigods or not had close ties to them. It wasn't until you reached a realized age that Aglaea's loss of humanity became conspicuous, and Anaxa's forever cold palms left a strange shiver in their wake.

The closer you got to the city, the more you felt the tingle of the golden threads your mother had taught you to be sensitive to. That meant one thing: Aglaea sensed your and Anaxa's arrival in the Eternal Holy City from a mile away.

"My precious little goldie," Aglaea said reverently, and immediately wrapped you in her arms, cradling you against her mother's warm chest. "I've missed you."

Aglaea's gaze, kissing your forehead, slides to Anaxa standing behind you, holding the bag of your belongings in her left hand. She nods silently at him in greeting.

"I decided to walk her out," Anaxa replies before the question escapes her lips. "I had a moment to spare, and besides, it's safer this way."