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Summary
In a low tone, Nikador spoke, “And just what exactly are you doing here upon Kephale’s altar?”
Phainon's pale lashes fluttered, catching the light with grace. It was truly remarkable how such an innocent face could conceal the deepest desires of men within. Had it not been for all this coquettish meandering, presenting himself as part of a fertility ritual to the gods, he might have seemed entirely angelic.
“Why, performing my nightly prayers, as every faithful servant should.”
Amidst the eternal hunt against his sworn rival, Nikador stumbles upon a unique offering to the gods and rightfully stakes his claim.