Like her, they would die for something none of them had had a part in. Lycaon was devastated by the loss of his love, but worse than that was the haunting knowledge that soon his own sons would join their mother and die every bit as horrifically. In only twenty-four hours she went from a beautiful young woman to a crone, then nothing but scattered dust. It was a secret she kept until the day when she, like all the others of her Apollite kind, began to decay and die. Because of the actions of her forefathers against the Greek god Apollo more than two thousand years before her birth, her people had been damned to die brutally on their twenty-seventh birthday. Little did he know she bore the darkest of all curses. A woman whose very smile was his life's blood. Like so many before and after, he made the mistake of falling in love with the most beautiful woman in his kingdom. One who refused to yield before the wills of the Greek gods who commanded him. Long before recorded history there lived a bold king.
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