The story begins here. The previous week begins here.
It was a surreal experience, lying on the damp ground, shrouded in mist, listening to the odd story full of obscure bronze-age anecdotes, bronze-age Greek hatred and the occasional quote from purported bronze-age writings, from a man that looked frail but who could jump off of towers without injury, claim to be a ancient priest with a straight face, and toss me around like a crumpled fast-food hamburger wrapper. He paused in his story telling, staring off into the distance, whether in memory or delusion I know not.
"So, what happened to the Aghianar?" I asked, sitting up slightly and slipping my arms out of my jacket sleeves to wrap it around me, feigning much more pain than I felt.
He looked down at me as I settled back into the swirling whiteness. When I lay down like this, we were almost invisible to each other in the fog. "Aegus was clever," he finally confided. "He knew that the value of a hostage is fleeting. He knew that soon Androgiar would die, or Presaron would lose power, or the Valangzus would take action in spite of Presaron's wishes. So Aegus didn't demand gold or trade goods; he demanded knowledge."
"... the young people that were sent to Crete to be eaten by the Minotaur." I surmised, "They came back with Aghianar knowledge, customs, and attitudes and this was described figuratively as being eaten by the Aghianar god."
"Possibly that is the source of the myth," the man acknowledge. "Although these young men were sent to Kadlandith, not Crete, and there were other incidents through the centuries were young Greeks were sent to Crete as hostages. The story of people being devoured by a huge man bull are somewhat exaggerated."