For days, the sisters traveled alongside their mentor, Pagides, stopping at various villages and towns along the way. Though the settlements were populated by both humans and centaurs, humans were the majority. The craftsmanship they observed—delicate pottery, intricate textiles, and finely forged tools—rivaled that of the great cities in the mortal realm's Greece. Yet they refrained from purchasing anything; this journey was not for shopping but for learning. Pagides had brought them to understand how these lands functioned, how trade flowed, and how different beings coexisted.
On the third day of their travels, a towering wall appeared in the distance, so massive it seemed to scrape the heavens.
"That,"Pagides said, "is Hestia Giant City. We'll reach it in seven days."
The sisters marveled at the sight. The wall was smooth as polished marble, its surface so vast that clouds collided with it, condensing into waterfalls that cascaded down its face. Above, small but swift harpies darted across the sky, their wings cutting through the mist.
When they finally arrived at the city gates, they were greeted by a mix of guards—cynocephali with their sharp canine features, hemikynes (half-hounds), and humans. Strangely, no giants stood watch. Yet as they passed through, the sisters noticed centaur patrols exchanging friendly words with Pagides before allowing them entry.
Inside, the city was a marvel of organized chaos. Wide roads bustled with horse-drawn carriages, while towering columns—each engraved with intricate patterns—lined the streets. Hanging from these pillars were signs depicting various symbols: a loaf of bread, a bottle, a house, a table. Some were easy to understand, but others—a pair of wings, a mermaid, a dog's head—left the sisters puzzled. One sign combined multiple symbols into an indecipherable enigma.
Before long, their carriage halted.
"First, we meet the mayor," Pagides announced as they stepped into a vast, open plaza.
Here, giants moved about—towering figures, the shortest standing at least one and a half times the height of a man, the tallest reaching three times that. They wore simple, unadorned robes of wheat-colored linen, yet their beards—each uniquely styled—gave them an air of dignified charm. The plaza itself was immaculate, its stone benches and pillars carved seamlessly from the ground.
At the center stood a statue of Hestia, her warm smile radiating comfort. The sisters couldn't help but smile back.
Then—**thud. Thud. THUD.
A giant, taller than three grown men, stormed toward them, his face a mix of relief and irritation. Behind him, several others struggled to keep up, clutching scrolls and wearing official-looking caps.
"You finally returned!"the giant boomed, his voice shaking the ground. Despite his imposing figure—thick black hair, a beard like storm clouds, and robes of fine Greek fabric—his eyes held a kindness beneath the frustration.
"Mayor Brontos,"Pagides greeted cheerfully. "No need to be angry."
"How can I not be?" Brontos snapped, his beard bristling. "You left to assist Hiereia Eirene, and in your absence, I've had nothing but headaches!"
Pagides waved a hand dismissively. "The city's elites handled things, didn't they?"
"They solved the problems, yes—but left me with the aftermath! Do you know how much it cost to—"
"Ah, but I bring good news!"Pagides interrupted, grinning. "Something far more valuable than gold."
Brontos narrowed his eyes before finally sighing and sitting cross-legged on the ground. "Speak."
Pagides gestured to the sisters. "With them, we can finally open the Gate."
The mayor's expression darkened. "Don't jest, boy." He turned to the sisters and bowed slightly in apology. *"Forgive him, young ones. That task requires at least two of his caliber—no offense meant."
The sisters remained silent, as Pagides had instructed.
Smirking, Pagides climbed onto Brontos's knee and whispered something into his ear. The mayor's eyes widened. He stared at the sisters, then back at Pagides.
"You're not lying?"Brontos demanded.
In response, Pagides drew a small insignia from his pocket. The moment Brontos saw it, his demeanor shifted entirely.
"Scroll and feather!" the mayor barked. His attendants scrambled to obey. One tried to question him, but another quickly hushed the man.
Brontos scribbled something onto the parchment, then handed it to Pagides. "Do as you see fit."
Pagides bowed. "Expect good tidings."
As they left, a flock of pigeons erupted from the rooftops, their wings fluttering like a sudden storm.
Unnoticed by the group, a cloaked figure watched from the shadows of an alleyway—then silently followed.
As they walked through the bustling streets of Hestia Giant City, it became clear that Pagides was no ordinary traveler. Every few steps, someone called out to him—humans with woven baskets of figs and olives, centaurs offering finely carved wooden charms, even a pair of merfolk who had hauled themselves up from the canals, their scaled arms glistening as they pressed polished seashells into his hands.
The sisters watched in awe as person after person bowed their heads or clasped Pagides' arm in greeting, their faces alight with respect. Some whispered blessings; others laughed and insisted he take their gifts. Before long, the sisters found their own arms laden with offerings—embroidered cloth, clay flasks of honeyed wine, bundles of fragrant herbs. Even Pagides, usually so composed, struggled under the growing pile, his usual nimble gait reduced to an awkward shuffle as he balanced a towering stack of presents.
"You'd think they were trying to bury us alive," he muttered, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.
Then, as they turned a corner, the sisters froze.
Before them stood the Temple of Hestia, its grandeur so overwhelming it seemed to defy mortal comprehension. The structure soared into the sky, its marble columns so vast they might have been hewn from the bones of mountains. Golden light spilled from its open archways, and the air hummed with a quiet, sacred energy.
For a moment, the sisters forgot how to breathe.
In the mortal realm, temples were places of reverence—but this? This was something beyond. The symmetry of its arches, the way the sunlight danced across its gilded reliefs, the sheer *presence* of it—it felt less like a building and more like a fragment of the divine, left on earth as a gift.
"It's…"one sister began, then faltered.
"Like standing at the gates of Olympus itself,"the other finished softly.
Pagides chuckled, shifting his armload of gifts. "Wait until you see the inside."
Outside the temple stood two towering statues, each reaching five stories high. Pagides pointed first to the male figure. "That is Prometheus," he explained, then gestured to the female counterpart, "and that is Hestia."
The sisters paused to study the magnificent sculptures. Prometheus was depicted as powerfully built with a neatly trimmed beard, his muscular form radiating strength and wisdom. Both statues held massive Greek torches aloft, their stone flames frozen in eternal dance. Between them stood an enormous fire basin - large enough to hold a ship carrying twenty men - its coals glowing with an otherworldly light that never seemed to dim.
Pagides smiled eagerly. "Now we shall meet Hestia herself. Prepare yourselves." His announcement carried both excitement and reverence.
But before they could approach the temple entrance, a hiereus in flowing white and gold robes intercepted them. "Hestia departed two days ago," the priest informed them.
"What?" Pagides reacted with visible shock. "How is that possible?"
The hiereus, recognizing Pagides immediately, continued respectfully, "The temple elders made the decision. She left specific instructions to find you."
Pagides' expression darkened. "Since when does Hestia take orders from temple elders?" he demanded.
The priest chuckled knowingly. "Poseidon's Oceanus City required her presence. The matter was so dire that even Hades' hiereus couldn't resolve it."
With a heavy sigh, Pagides forced a polite nod. "Thank you for the information."
"The gratitude is ours," the hiereus replied warmly. "For you to come all this way to assist us." With a final bow, the priest withdrew.
Once alone, Pagides took a deep breath and spoke in a hushed tone: "That elder woman... extremely powerful. Extremely dangerous. When we meet her, don't speak a word unless directly addressed." The sisters exchanged glances and nodded solemnly in understanding.
With careful steps, Pagides led the sisters into the temple's grand interior. The vast space hummed with activity - merchants of various races conducted business at stalls lining the walls, adventuring parties compared maps near the central columns, and scholars debated over scrolls in alcoves. The air carried the scent of incense and the low murmur of countless conversations. Despite the bustling activity, an undeniable sacred energy permeated the space, making the sisters stand straighter in instinctive reverence.
As Pagides scanned their surroundings with wary eyes, a massive shadow suddenly blocked their retreat. The teacher whirled around, his face draining of color as he came face-to-chest with a familiar giant.
"Now, now," the giant named Pyrak rumbled with amusement, his beard shaking with laughter. He jerked a thumb toward the temple's inner chambers. "She's been waiting long enough."
When Pagides hesitated, clearly calculating escape routes, Pyrak's patience snapped. The giant's enormous hand closed around the teacher's arm. "Enough dithering! Be a man and face her!"
The bundled gifts tumbled to the marble floor as Pyrak dragged Pagides forward. Several hiereus materialized to gather the fallen offerings, while others gently but firmly guided the sisters along the path Pyrak was clearing.
"Unhand me, Pyrak!" Pagides struggled futilely against the giant's grip. "This is hardly necessary!"
Pyrak's laughter boomed through the hall. "I changed your swaddling clothes, boy. Don't act so shy now!" When he noticed Pagides' mutinous expression, the giant sighed and snapped his fingers. "Bind him."
To everyone's surprise - especially Pagides' - a team of temple attendants produced ropes seemingly from nowhere. Within moments, they had the struggling teacher securely trussed. The sisters, catching sight of the amused smiles exchanged by the surrounding elders, realized resistance was futile and followed quietly.
Their procession through the temple's upper levels grew increasingly quiet as they ascended. The bustling activity of the lower floors gave way to silent, austere corridors where bare stone walls replaced the ornate decorations below. Each successive flight of stairs led them further into hushed emptiness, their footsteps echoing unnaturally loud in the vacant spaces.
When they reached a massive oak door at the highest level, Pyrak ushered them inside with an amused chuckle. "No use thinking about windows," the giant rumbled as he secured the door behind them. "They've been sealed since the last time you tried that trick."
The chamber was vast yet sparsely furnished - just a simple table set with food and another closed door leading deeper into the private quarters. The sisters immediately moved to help Pagides with his bonds when a voice, rich with age and authority, called from the inner room:
"Do come in."
"Just a moment!" Pagides grunted, still struggling with the ropes. "They've tied these so tight I can barely breathe!"
A dry chuckle answered him. "Still the same old trickster, learning all of Prometheus' cunning but none of his wisdom."
"Now that's unfair," Pagides protested as the ropes finally loosened. "I was your student too, remember? I thought you were vacationing in Hades' Cynocephaly City - what brings you back so soon?"
A weary sigh floated through the doorway. "Because of your usual scheming, of course. Had to cut my holiday short." Then the voice softened. "And how are our young visitors adjusting to Titan Realm?"
The sisters froze in surprise, but Pagides quickly covered with a pained yelp. "Ah! Think I pulled something!"
"Must you always be so dramatic?" The elder emerged at last, her Hiereia robes adorned with intricate sigils and a burnished copper collar that caught the dim light. The sacred staff in her hand - carved with eternal flames - tapped impatiently against the stone floor.
"Honest accident!" Pagides insisted, but the elder had already raised her staff. With one precise motion, the ropes fell away, their severed ends blackened as if touched by invisible fire.
"Now," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, "shall we have our little chat properly?" Pagides could only nod in resigned defeat, gesturing for the sisters to follow as they entered the inner sanctum.