“There is no end to our suffering,” said the leader in the middle, restraining her sister. “You Scions may find peace, even happiness from time to time, but we Erinyes are tormented always. We were born of blood spilled by a son who attacked own his father. We are fated to avenge the wrongful death.”
The leader glared at Orion accusingly, and he looked up at the Furies with pleading eyes. Helen took a reassuring step closer to him. He was starting to lose focus on the reason they were there. That wasn’t like Orion at all.
“I didn’t kill my father, no matter how much the Fates would have liked that,” he declared in a strong voice. “I was born to bitterness, but I don’t choose to be bitter.”
“But it’s not a choice for us, prince,” whispered the smallest one. “The murders are always inside our heads.”
“We Erinyes can never forget the blood that your kind has spilled. We remember every moment,” the leader said with deep sadness. The three girls began to weep again.
“And that’s why we are here. My friend and I think you’ve suffered enough for the Scions’ sins,” Orion said in his soothing voice. “We only want to give you some water to drink. Aren’t you thirsty?”
“We’ve not had a single drop of water in over three thousand years,” said the one on the left.
All three of them were tempted, that was obvious. It was so hot and dry, even in the shade of their miserable tree, that Helen, who had grown used to deprivation, was desperate just to wet the inside of her mouth for a moment. Finally, the littlest sister stepped forward on legs so skinny and frail they nearly folded up underneath her.
“I am very thirsty. I wish to drink,” she said in her tiny, whispering voice.
Her thin arms shook as she held out her hands. Orion unscrewed the lid and helped her steady the canteen and raise it to her lips. She swallowed a small sip, and then looked up at Orion in shock. She grabbed the canteen and tilted it back, swallowing the entire contents in a series of loud gulps before swooning against Orion. He caught her and held her, glancing at Helen reassuringly.
“You’ve killed her!” the whiny one gasped.
“He can’t kill any of us,” the leader said. “Look. She stirs.”
The littlest one clutched at the hem of Orion’s shirt, burying her face in his chest. He stroked her hair with his free hand and spoke softly in her ear as her shoulders started to shake. Helen could tell from his tone that he was telling her that it was okay and that she was safe. The littlest Fury suddenly threw her head back and revealed that she wasn’t in pain or crying. She was laughing.
“Sisters,” she sighed. “It’s . . . heaven! The Heirs have brought us heaven to drink!”
Helen quickly handed the other two Furies their canteens, and watched as they joined their sister in euphoria. The littlest one kissed Orio
n on the cheek in gratitude and then threw herself into the waiting arms of her two bigger sisters. The three girls cried with joy as they hugged each other, bouncing and squealing and laughing all at once. They looked like three young girls, jumping around at a slumber party.
Glancing over at Orion, Helen saw him staring at the three girls with intense, but seemingly conflicted, emotions. She went and stood close to him, trying to offer him whatever reassurance she could. He seemed shaken up by the mention of his father, and she wanted to let him know that none of that mattered now. The Scions were free of the Furies, and soon he and his father could be together again.
“You were right,” Helen said. He looked down at her with a questioning smile. “Setting them free was way better than eternal joy.”
They both turned their attention back to the girls, and watched their rejoicing. Then Helen shrugged and made an “eh” noise, pretending like she was still debating it. Orion laughed at her joke, but he didn’t say anything. He just draped an arm over her shoulders as they watched the three sisters hug and dance.
The littlest one was the first to break away. At first, it seemed that she had grown tired from all the excitement and needed to go sit for a moment. She staggered away from the group and covered her eyes with a hand. Orion quickly released Helen to go to her aid when she wavered as if she was about to collapse. She bent her head. Red drops stained her white dress as she wept bloody tears. Her sisters took her from Orion, asking what was wrong. Not long after, the other two began to weep as well.
“What happened?” Helen asked Orion.
“I don’t know. All she said was that she couldn’t get their faces out of her head,” he replied with a worried frown as he watched the girls huddle together and speak privately. They seemed to come to some sort of a consensus, and the leader approached Helen and Orion.
“It appears this joy was not meant to last,” she said.
The other two girls continued to cling to each other as they cried, and Helen desperately wanted to help them. Orion crouched down and picked up the discarded canteens, frantically checking them for any leftover drops of water but they all were empty.
“We’ll get you more,” he promised, but the leader shook her head.
“As much as I want to feel that again, I’m afraid it will never last,” she said sadly. “We cannot repay this gift, but we wish to give you something in return for the few blessed moments you gave us.”
“A gift for a gift that we’ll remember forever,” moaned the whiny one.
“We release the both of you from all of your blood debts,” the leader said, and waved her hand in the air in blessing. “We will never torment either of you again.”
She stepped back and joined her sisters, then the three of them began to retreat into the shadows of their tree.
“Wait! Don’t give up yet,” Orion pleaded. “Maybe we didn’t bring you enough. If we get you more . . .”