For me, myth is the 'common' language of us all.

Valor was in Nikodemos, unquestionable, and commitment like trees to stand or night to fall.

One man can make another's life so much better.

Here Stormbringer spies the Stepsons, the Theban fighters, and the 3rd Commando, attending to their own. In the face of such unflinching determination and unswerving devotion, the hurricane pauses and calms. Its ravings turn to mutters.

This is as 'alone' as I'm likely to get with you - you're not half so fetching as your daughter.

‎Niko and his women will be the death of all the Stepsons yet.

Gods colliding, ethos and mythos trying to combine. The Sacred Band caught up in a whirlwind not of any god's devising: he and Niko had wanted to save twenty-three pairs of fated Theban fighters. Now everything feels fated and fighting oversweeps its boundaries of time and place and plane.