Epilogue

It is said that Cleon, First Priest of Anthos, lived in that glade far beyond the normal mortal span, sustained by the love of his god. They watched the children of the villages grow, and soon there was a mighty town that paid great homage to their divine protector.

It is said that, after a hundred and fifty years, age finally laid the priest low, but great Lord Anthos was loath to part with him. He bore his lover to the center of the glade, and transformed him into a mighty wild olive tree. The boughs rose and spread to twine around the sacred oak and shelter the throne of the god, and so it still stands today.

It is said that Lord Anthos sleeps in the branches of his lover’s tree, that he is known to kiss the bark and whisper sweet words. Sometimes, the wind in the leaves sounds like the tree is whispering back. Sometimes, the creaking of the branches sounds like laughter.

It is said that, by moonless starlight, Lord Anthos can be glimpsed dancing with another man—tall and strong, black-bearded and crowned with an olive wreath. Those nights the air carries the music of reed pipes and the soft, sweet sighs of lovers.

It is said that, after such nights, the sacred glade is full of flowers, regardless of the season. After such nights the birds sing and the deer prance and the wolves play like pups. After such nights the rivers run sweet. After such nights, the god smiles with joy.

It is said that men cannot be dryads, and that such spirits are born, not made…but many things are said. The mysteries of the gods are beyond the ken of mortals, and love is the greatest mystery of all.