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When Theseus finally cahty Minotaur, Beranabus wept Vain, proud Theseus was severing the Minotaur’s head, to take as a trophy, when he heard the child’s sobs Startled, he followed the sounds to their source and exaled into the maze

Beranabus didn’t look unnatural Theseus thought the boy was six or seven years old and assumed he was one of Minos’s unfortunate victims He tried to lead the child out of the Labyrinth “Don’t cry,” he muttered aardly “The beast is dead You’re free now”

Beranabus glared at Theseus and his eyes blazed with a yellow, fiery light Theseus quickly backed away He hadn’t been afraid of the Minotaur, arrogantly sure of his success But this child unnerved him The boy was an unexpected find and Theseus wasn’t sure what to make of him

“Come with me now or I’ll leave you,” he snapped

Beranabus only snarled in reply and crawled across to the dead Minotaur Theseus watched with disbelief as the boy spread himself over the monster’s lifeless body and wept into the thick hairs of his bloodied, ruptured chest He stood uncertainly by the pair for a while and thought about hacking at the Minotaur’s neck again, to clailimpse of the boy’s yellow eyes It was ridiculous, but

he had a notion the child ht prove more of a threat than the Minotaur

“Stay here then,” Theseus pouted, turning his back on the boy, deciding to leave the Minotaur’s head intact If people questioned hiht valiantly, so he’d decided to have him whole as a mark of respect

Following a trail of thread to safety, Theseus wound his way out of the Labyrinth to take his place aside the likes of Heracles, Jason and Achilles

He left the orphaned boy alone in the darkness, weeping over the corpse of the slain, demonic beast He assumed the child would die in the shadows of the maze, unnoticed by the world Life was cheap and Theseus didn’t think the boy would be any great loss The slayer of the Minotaur was a shallow, shortsighted man who cared only about his own reputation He could never have guessed that Beranabus would outlive and outfight every legendary warrior of that golden age, and eventually prove hireatest hero of them all

DEAD GIRLS TELL TALES

It’s strange being alive again This world is huge, co So many people and machines You can travel anywhere and communicate in ways I never even dreamt of when I first lived How are you supposed to find a place for yourself in a world this convoluted and uncaring?

Life was o Most people never travelled more than a few kilometres froht in distant countries, and caely dressed folk who spoke different languages and believed in frightful gods But girls and wohts, unless they were kidnapped by rival warriors and carted off

It was a peaceful tireat wars Food was plentiful Laere respected by most clans We built huts, made our own clothes, farmed the land, herded ta, bore lots of children, worshipped our gods and died happily if we lived to be forty

Then de up the re flesh and bones, turning our own ancestors against us We fought as best we could, but for each one we killed, five es across the land It was only a matter of time before ould all suffer horrible, painful deaths

In our darkest hour, an unlikely saviour appeared A gruff druid led a small band of our warriors on a mission to send the demons back to their foul universe I ith them, and so did a simple boy known only as Bran