Sisyphus's voice was commanding and full of authority. Despite his aged and withered appearance, the aura of a king still lingered in him. Craby and I immediately fell silent, too intimidated to say a word—like fawns trembling before the roar of a lion.
Sisyphus's gaze bore down on us with contempt, as if he were glaring from the peak of Mount Olympus, while we stood at the lowest depths of Tartarus.
"How dare you raise your voices in my presence?" he bellowed. "Do you not know who I am? I am the King of Corinth. Know your place!"
He was lording his nobility over us, looking at us like mere commoners unworthy of addressing royalty. But Craby knew exactly what to do next. He stepped forward, knelt before Sisyphus, and spoke in a submissive tone.
"Please forgive us, King Sisyphus, for the disgrace we've caused in your presence."
Craby could switch tones like flipping a coin. Just a moment ago he was talking to Sisyphus like an old friend, and now he was acting like a humble servant. Truly slippery, this guy.
He glanced back at me and nodded slightly, mouthing silent words I could just barely read: he wanted me to kneel too.
I had no choice. Reluctantly, I bent my knees and knelt. I didn't like it, but if groveling was the price of gaining Sisyphus's help, I'd pay it.
Seeing both of us kneel seemed to satisfy Sisyphus. He said nothing, only resumed pushing his boulder up the mountain.
Craby stood up quickly and followed after him. "Lord Sisyphus, please help my friend and me," he begged again. "We have no one else to turn to. Only you possess the wisdom and power to help lowly souls like us."
Sisyphus gave Craby a long, unreadable look. Then, at last, he spoke. "You wish me to help you? And what, pray tell, do you think I can do for you?"
Craby beamed with hope. Sisyphus was finally engaging with him. "Everyone knows of your legend, my lord—how you escaped the Underworld more than once. We seek your brilliant counsel to help us do the same. Please, guide us."
Sisyphus let out a loud, harsh laugh. Craby blinked, confused, and asked, "Is something wrong, my lord?"
"You think I can help you?" Sisyphus scoffed. "That's rich. Do you really not understand what's happening to me?"
Craby shook his head, indicating that aside from the infamous curse of the eternal boulder, he knew nothing else.
What Sisyphus said made me stop and think. Why couldn't he help us escape the Underworld? Why was he condemned to push the boulder for eternity? Remembering his past defiance of Hades helped me understand: his punishment bound him, mind and body, to the endless task. As long as the curse remained, he couldn't even begin to formulate a plan to escape.
"Kinos," I said quietly, "Sisyphus can't help us. His curse forces him to focus entirely on pushing that boulder. He can't think of anything else. Not as long as that curse holds."
Sisyphus scowled at me, clearly unimpressed by my bluntness. He didn't like that I wasn't showing him the same deference as Craby, but still, he responded.
"Clever little background character, aren't you?" he sneered. "If you understand that much, then leave me be. Go on, get out of my sight—I'm sick of looking at you both."
Craby looked visibly deflated. I walked over and patted him on the shoulder.
"It's all right, Kinos. We'll find another way," I said gently.
He didn't answer, just stared at Sisyphus with lingering hope. Then suddenly he ran forward again.
"Wait, Lord Sisyphus! Don't go just yet!" he called.
But Sisyphus didn't stop. He kept pushing the boulder, ignoring him completely.
"If I could help lift your curse… would you help us then?" Craby shouted.
Sisyphus paused. For a moment, he stopped pushing the boulder. He turned, eyes glinting with cunning.
"Well then… why don't you tell me," he said, "how exactly you plan to do that?"