The Sphinx, and the Boy with No Fear
by Sophia Flamoe
Sophia Flamoe is a sophomore Marketing and Creative Writing student at Seattle University. She has always loved stories, and has been writing since she could hold a pen. Sophia hopes to be involved in marketing in the publishing industry, and one day be an author herself.
There was a boy who was said to have no fear. He was scared of nothing and no one, and thus, he believed himself invulnerable.
His name was Cygnus Bane, and unlike the legend, he was not always so fearless.
Cygnus Bane came from the worst sort of family for a boy like him; the seventh son of a seventh son of a poor farming family. Cygnus was all but guaranteed a life of no acclaim and no fortune. But Cygnus wanted more from his lot. He had heard whispers of a witch in his village, a woman said to be able to do unexplainable magic and grant any wish the heart could desire.
Cygnus had long watched his village be assailed by the ferocious Sphinx that lived in the nearby mountain range and came down to block their only trade route. Many a hero had risen to best it, but they could not. For this Sphinx, besides having the strength of ten strongmen, was sly; she could not be caught, and she could not be tamed. Cygnus’ own brothers had lost their lives to the beast a few years prior, and though his brothers had all been strong, cunning, and wise, they had been no match for the Sphinx, or her riddles.
Cygnus believed himself wise, and from that wisdom, he had decided that the reason the Sphinx had not been bested was because each of her foes had been too scared to be a real threat. That if they had even the slightest bit of courage, they would have been rid of the cursed Sphinx years ago. And though the loss of his brothers had taken its toll on the family, Cygnus did not shy away from pointing out their cowardice when facing the Sphinx, that each one had died because they were no match in valor to himself, or to the Sphinx. Declaring that despite the fact he was barely a man–only just entering adulthood–he was brave enough to face the Sphinx. Finally, having had enough, his mother cried that if he were so brave as he claimed, he should face the Sphinx himself, and not come back home until he had vanquished the beast. Scorned and embarrassed, Cygnus left his childhood home, unaware that this truly would be the last time he ever set foot inside it.
The Sphinx sat on the outskirts of the village, in the middle of The Traders Path, looking for an unwitting traveler, or foolish villager for her next meal. When Cygnus approached, the Sphinx was picking something out of her teeth with one long, curled talon, and though Cygnus tried, every time he got within one hundred feet of the beast, he could not move any farther. His fear had rooted him to the ground, unable to do the very thing he believed himself so capable of. Cygnus tried to approach her all through the night, and in the early morning, when the first golden rays of sunlight littered his path, and when he had managed a scarce few feet more, the Sphinx finally noticed him, a slippery grin spreading across her human-like face.
“Oh, great hero!” The Sphinx crooned, slinking closer to the not-so-great hero. “Have you come to vanquish the terrible blight? The Sphinx who has no match, and no equal?”
Cygnus stammered, mouth hanging open, and then snapping closed with every passing second, “I-I’m not afraid of you!” he managed, accentuating his words with one tiny step towards the Sphinx.
The Sphinx’s smile only grew, “Tell you what, boy-hero, I have grown weary of my games, each warrior your village has delivered has been no match for my superior cunning, and I find no pleasure in their demise. I wish to leave and find a cleverer village to outwit, but someone must solve my riddle! If you, weak-minded as you are, can solve my great riddle I vow to leave your village and never return. If not...” The Sphinx’s eyes narrowed into slits, and she slunk closer to Cygnus, lips pulling back to reveal three rows of razor-sharp teeth, which gleamed in the light of the dawn, “I will take you and your cowardly little town, and eat you all in one bite!” At this, she snapped her teeth together, sending Cygnus tumbling backward over his feet and then running into the village to escape the horrors he had seen. As he ran, the Sphinx called after him, “My riddle is this; I am denied by my creators, yet felt by all, I can bring victory to those who best me, and eternal dream to those who do not. What am I? Find me, boy-hero, and give me your answer. You have one year!” Cygnus felt as though the Sphinx’s voice followed him all the way through his village, haunting his every step.
Having not bested the Sphinx, and feeling even more ashamed, Cygnus would not return home, for he felt foolish with his fear. And with nowhere else to go, and nothing else to think, he found himself remembering the whispers of the Witch in the Wood, who could grant him any wish his heart desired. And Cygnus Bane wished to never be afraid again.
He had not voiced his resolve to visit the Witch, yet the forest seemed to part, leading him straight to her hut.
When he arrived, the Witch looked at Cygnus and did not seem surprised.
“The fates have told me of your arrival,” she said, her voice like crushed glass. Shrouded in a dark robe, her moon-white hair cascading to the tips of her shriveled toes; Cygnus faced the Witch and felt his fear like a roar in his veins.
“I wish to be fearless,” he said, trying to stand up straighter over the hunched Witch, chest heaving with every breath. Even she, small and frail as she was, scared him too. Cygnus was growing more disgusted with his fear by the moment.
“Bah!” the Witch guffawed. “Everyone wants something, but no one wants to pay the price. Child, do you know the toll of your desire?”
“I’ll do anything! I’ll pay you anything!” Cygnus said, trying to muster the courage he wanted so badly. He was so much larger than she, and yet his heart threatened to beat out of his chest, his knees to give out. How could he be so cowardly? He wanted to scream; his terror and anger and shame melding into a monster of his own.
He was scared of that too.
“Not for me, you insolent boy! For you!” she cried, throwing her hands wide.
Cygnus felt his fear ever-growing, “How do you mean?
“You will learn. All in due time.” She laughed, jagged and hoarse, and pointed a bent finger at him. “Do you accept your fate?”
By now Cygnus was growing tired of her games and his fear. He felt she was a mad old crone, and was reassured in his righteousness. If he were fearless, he would never feel ashamed again. “Yes!” he cried, overjoyed at the ease with which he was receiving his wish. “I accept my fate, and any cost that comes with it!” Cygnus would become fearless, he would face the Sphinx and return victorious, and his family would be sorry they ever doubted him.
At this, the Witch lit up, a faint green glow surrounding her like a halo, and Cygnus felt the hair on his arms stand on end. From her shriveled finger, a blast of light shot out, and hit Cygnus straight in the chest, knocking him backward into a shelf of herbs and vials of liquid.
When he stood, he found he no longer feared the Witch, she was just an old woman, eager to flaunt her magic, and useless with age. He no longer trembled at the memory of the Sphinx and felt that should he face her, he would win by courage alone.
“Now hear this, boy,” the Witch called, as he walked towards her door, without so much as a parting word. “You are not yet strong enough to defeat the Sphinx. Go, fight the beasts terrorizing this world. Make a name for yourself, get stronger, but do not be hasty, do not be brash. Have courage, but do not insult. If you do this, then—and only then—will your fight against the Sphinx yield you a victory.”
Cygnus, who had always been partial to impatience, thought her warning presumptuous and tiresome. He was strong from a life spent working the fields with his father, and now that he could feel no fear, how could he lose? But he did find some truth in her caution, many had fought and lost against the Sphinx, and the thought that he could garner some fame before returning home—that his family would hear of his bravery and valor—was too enticing an idea to pass up. So, leaving a pool of shattered glass and potion in his wake, Cygnus Bane left the Witch’s hut.
Cygnus did travel, he fought monster after monster, saved village after village, and not once did he lose a fight. He took his time to think over the Sphinx’s riddle, and after a year, he found he had the answer. He was so thrilled at his success; against the monsters, against the riddle, that though his ego had swelled beyond measure, he believed himself capable of fighting and winning against the Sphinx, for how could he not? He had won every fight he’d had since he started!
And even if he weren’t strong enough, he had solved the riddle! So, what would it matter?
When Cygnus returned to his village the people called out to him, overjoyed, for the boy-hero had come to vanquish the terrible Sphinx.
Cygnus passed right by his home, and his family, without even a glance; they would see, and they would be sorry. They would beseech him to return, his mother would cry, for he was her last remaining son, and even his father would beg, for there was no one left to work the fields, and he was too old to do it alone. He would let them grovel. But he would never go back.
By the time Cygnus had reached the edge of town where the Sphinx lay, a crowd had gathered behind him. Somehow, by his not being afraid, they did not seem to be so scared either.
“Oh, great Sphinx,” Cygnus called, raising a bronze sword in the direction of the beast. “I have come to finish what I started one year ago!”
The Sphinx squinted at him for a moment, then her face lit up, “Ah! The famous boy-hero! Come to finish me off, have you? I’d almost forgotten about you! Have you solved my riddle or are you relying only on your… strength?” At the word strength, the Sphinx flashed her three rows of teeth, but Cygnus only smiled.
“I’m not afraid of you, beast, I have something all the rest did not: courage! And an answer! To your riddle—
Courage!” Cygnus pronounced with a swell of his chest. “Courage is the answer to your great riddle!
You see, it was rather easy, really. Any fool could have solved it. And to think, I’d heard of the Sphinx, oh great master of riddles! Hah! All this time it was just a myth. It hardly took any time at all for me to solve, and it is quite dull, I have to say. I would make a better master of riddles than you.” Cygnus had begun to gloat, his ego had swelled so large with his courage and victories that he had begun to believe himself invincible, incapable of any wrongdoing or misstep.
At this, the growing crowd around him gasped, for no one had ever spoken to the Sphinx in such a way, and Cygnus turned towards them, raising his arms in a symbol of victory.
The Sphinx—who had never been spoken to in such a way—had started to become angry. This boy-hero had grown to think himself greater than the Sphinx, wiser, more cunning, stronger. And because Cygnus could no longer feel fear, when he saw the Sphinx approach, he did not see it for the danger it was.
“You’re wrong.” The Sphinx said, now right beside Cygnus, whose attention remained on the crowd.
“About what?” Cygnus asked, finally turning back towards the Sphinx.
“The answer to my riddle is not courage,” she said, advancing on Cygnus, a smile curling her mouth.
Cygnus again pointed his sword at the Sphinx, but it was no use; in one clean bite, she swallowed him whole.
For the boy with no fear did not know when he was fighting a losing battle, and a boy with too big an ego would not back out even if he knew the price.
True to her word, the Sphinx ate and destroyed the remainder of Cygnus’ village, and when she was done, flew to find a new, more clever village with which to torment.
With the death of his home, came the death of the legend of the great boy-hero; Cygnus Bane, who was afraid of nothing and no one. The world had forgotten the would-be slayer of monsters. All, except, I suppose, the Sphinx, who thought back on the boy ever so often.
And of the true answer to her riddle.
Fear.
