In the ancient and rugged lands of Attica, long before the city of Athens reached its peak of architectural glory, there lived a young prince named Cephalus. He was the son of Deioneus, the ruler of Phocis, and a man of such striking beauty and physical prowess that his presence was noted even by the gods of Olympus. Cephalus was a man of the earth and the wild, preferring the cool air of the morning and the challenge of the hunt to the gilded halls of his father's palace. His heart, however, belonged entirely to Procris, the beautiful daughter of King Erechtheus of Athens. Their marriage was celebrated throughout the region as a union of perfect harmony, a rare instance where mortal passion seemed to mirror the eternal bonds of the stars.
Every morning, before the sun had fully crested the horizon, Cephalus would rise from his marital bed, leaving the sleeping Procris to pursue the deer and boar that roamed the slopes of the mountains surrounding Athens. It was during one of these early morning excursions on the peaks of Mount Hymettus that Cephalus's life was forever altered. As he climbed the rocky crags, he was spotted by Eos, the goddess of the Dawn. Eos, known for her recurring infatuations with handsome mortal men, was instantly captivated by the hunter. In a flash of saffron light, she descended from her chariot and snatched Cephalus away, carrying him to the very ends of the earth. Though he was in the presence of a goddess of unimaginable radiance, Cephalus remained steadfast. His mind was filled only with thoughts of Procris, and he spoke her name incessantly, begging the goddess to release him so he might return to his wife.
Irritated by his devotion and stung by his rejection, Eos began to plant the seeds of suspicion in Cephalus's mind. She suggested that while he was pining for his wife in the celestial realms, Procris might not be maintaining the same level of fidelity in Athens. 'You are so sure of her virtue,' Eos mocked, 'but how can you know for certain? Mortal hearts are fickle, and time erodes even the strongest promises.' To prove her point and to satisfy her own spite, Eos transformed Cephalus’s appearance. She gave him the likeness of a wealthy stranger and provided him with lavish gifts of gold and jewels. She then sent him back to Athens to test the loyalty of his own wife, promising that if Procris remained faithful to a stranger's advances, she would never bother Cephalus again.
Returning to his own home in disguise, Cephalus found Procris in a state of deep mourning for her missing husband. However, he persisted in his role, using his transformed voice and the lure of the goddess's treasures to woo her. Day after day, he offered her more magnificent bribes, testing her resolve. For a long time, Procris resisted, her heart remaining true to the memory of Cephalus. But eventually, under the weight of the stranger’s persistent kindness and the sheer beauty of the gifts, she hesitated for one brief, fatal moment. In that instant of hesitation, Cephalus shed his disguise and revealed his true identity, crying out in anguish at her perceived betrayal. Overcome with shame and feeling the sting of his entrapment, Procris fled the house and the city. She escaped into the mountains, seeking the company of the goddess Artemis and the solitary life of a huntress.
Procris lived among the followers of Artemis for some time, honing her skills in the wild and finding peace in the absence of men. Eventually, Cephalus, realizing the cruelty of his own test and his own role in their separation, sought her out and begged for her forgiveness. They were reconciled, and as a token of her renewed love, Procris presented Cephalus with two extraordinary gifts she had received from the goddess Artemis (or, in some accounts, King Minos of Crete). The first was Laelaps, a hunting dog destined to never lose his prey, and the second was a magical javelin that never missed its mark and would always return to the hand of the thrower. For a time, their happiness was restored, and they lived in a renewed state of bliss, hunting together in the forests of Attica.
However, the shadow of doubt is not easily banished. Years passed, and Cephalus continued his habit of hunting alone during the heat of the day. Because he exerted himself so greatly, he would often seek the shade of the trees on Mount Hymettus. While resting, he would call out to the breeze to cool his burning brow. He would cry, 'Aura, veni!' (Come, Breeze, and soothe me). A passing wayfarer overheard these cries and, misunderstanding the poetic invocation, believed that Cephalus was calling out to a secret lover named Aura. This gossip eventually reached the ears of Procris. The old wounds of their previous mutual distrust were reopened. Heartbroken but desperate to know the truth, Procris decided to follow Cephalus to the mountain the next morning to see this 'Aura' for herself.
On a sweltering afternoon, as the cicadas buzzed in the olive groves, Cephalus lay down near a thicket on the slopes of Hymettus. As was his custom, he called out to the breeze, 'Come, Aura, most welcome of companions, come and take away this heat!' Inside a nearby bush, Procris heard his words and let out a soft, involuntary sob of despair. The leaves rustled with her movement. Cephalus, alert to the slightest sound and believing a wild beast was lurking in the undergrowth, acted on instinct. He stood and launched the magical javelin—the weapon that never missed its mark—into the center of the rustling foliage. The javelin pierced the brush and struck Procris directly in the chest.