Chapter 10
Blood Guilt
How can one bathe in the warm sunlight of hard-won victory when so many lives have been lost, and the means to achieve that victory haunt the memories like a lingering nightmare?
It is no easy task, less so for heroes, for they will slowly begin to doubt their deeds, constantly seek ways to improve upon them, or never be able to get beyond the memory of that one moment of glory that marks their evanescent life.
As they drove the chariot back across that blood-soaked land, Pelops felt the cold hands of the Moirai, those goddesses of fate, pushing him onward expectantly, and it gave him no end of restlessness. More so, however, he knew in his very bones and blood that the Erinyes, those unforgiving furies of the world of men and gods, had fixed their eyes upon him
