𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐇 🐦‍🔥

The war had long since faded into memory, yet its scars remained etched deep in my soul. Troy, once a city of splendor, was nothing more than a smoldering ruin when I left, but its ashes followed me. Now, as I stood on the cliffs of Ithaca, the salty breeze tugging at my cloak, I gazed out at the vast sea that separated me from my past. Ithaca had become my refuge. Months had passed since my arrival on this island, and with each day that slipped by, the distance between me and the horrors of Troy grew. The peace here was unnerving at first, the quiet pressing in after the endless noise of war and loss. But in time, I learned to accept it—perhaps even to crave it.

Helen and Paris had disappeared before we reached these shores. One night, under the veil of darkness, they vanished, slipping away as though they had never been. But it wasn't long after that we learned the truth—Paris had been struck down by Philoctetes' poisoned arrow, and Helen, ever the subject of the gods' whims, was left alone. I often wondered if she would ever find peace after such a loss or if the gods would continue to toy with her fate, as they did with all of us.

As for the others who had escaped with us, many had lost their faith in the gods. No longer did they lift their prayers to the heavens, their faith shattered along with the walls of Troy. They cursed the heavens for the destruction of our city, for the lives taken too soon, for the lies spun by the Olympians who had watched from above as we bled for their games.

But I couldn't afford to look back. When I arrived in Ithaca, I came with nothing but the clothes on my back and the secret I carried. Alone, I awaited the birth of my child, the only remaining tie to the two men I had loved.

Odysseus, who had guided me through the mountains, had parted ways before we reached the island. He left with no explanation, only a promise to one day return. Whether he would or not, I couldn't say.

And so, I was left to begin my life anew.

The day my son was born was the first time I felt real hope since the fall of Troy. Ethos. His name came to me in a dream—an embodiment of everything I had survived and all that I had left to fight for.

He was beautiful, with golden curls that fell in soft waves around his cherubic face. His deep hazel eyes, like embers glowing in the night, reminded me of Hector. But his strength, the way he clung to me with fierce determination, that was Achilles. In him, I saw both men. I had no way of knowing whose blood ran in his veins—Achilles, the passionate warrior who had loved me fiercely, or Hector, the noble prince whose quiet strength had steadied me when I wavered.

But it didn't matter. Ethos was mine. My heart swelled with love and fear in equal measure as I held him in my arms. Would he grow to become a warrior, cursed to repeat the mistakes of his fathers? Or would he find peace in this quiet corner of the world? The gods were silent now, but I could feel their presence. Watching, waiting. I would not let them take him from me. I had come too far, lost too much. Ethos would not be another casualty of their games.

As I looked down at my son, sleeping peacefully against my chest, I knew one thing for certain: I had survived. Troy may have fallen, but I remained. And as long as I drew breath, I would protect Ethos with every ounce of strength I had left. For Achilles. For Hector. For the future that now rested in his tiny hands.

The soft sound of footsteps drew my attention, and I turned to see Penelope enter the room. She had been a comforting presence since I arrived in Ithaca, offering both companionship and wisdom. Though we were both bound by the sorrow of war and loss, we had found solace in each other's company.

Penelope's smile was warm and inviting as she approached, her hands lightly dusted with flour. "Sabryna, would you like to join me in the kitchen? I'm about to start preparing dinner."

I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ethos, who had fallen asleep with his head resting on my chest. His tiny body rose and fell gently with each breath, and I felt a wave of affection wash over me. Carefully, I shifted him into my arms, feeling the warmth of his little body against me, and made my way to his bed. I laid him down softly, ensuring he was comfortable before pulling a small blanket over him.

With one last look at my sleeping son, I returned to Penelope, who was patiently waiting by the door. The thought of joining her in something as simple as cooking felt like a welcome reprieve from the weight of my thoughts. It was a moment of peace I hadn't allowed myself in a long time.

"I'd love to," I said, a smile breaking across my face.

As we walked into the kitchen, the familiar sounds and smells wrapped around me, bringing a sense of comfort and warmth. The rich aroma of herbs and roasting meat filled the air, while the cheerful crackling of the fire in the hearth created a cozy atmosphere. Penelope moved gracefully around the kitchen, her hands dusted with flour as she hummed a soft tune.

"Do you think Ethos will grow up to be a warrior like his father?" she asked, glancing back at me with a playful smile.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Or maybe a master chef like you!"

We both laughed, the sound light and carefree. As Penelope handed me a rolling pin, we began to work side by side, our conversation flowing easily. She shared stories of her time with Odysseus, and I found myself laughing at her recounting of his less-than-graceful moments in the kitchen.

"Once, he tried to make a feast for me to celebrate his return, and he nearly set the house on fire!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Really?" I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. "How did you not know?"

"He was so proud of the meal, but it was nothing but charred meat and raw vegetables. I had to remind him that a feast doesn't just mean throwing everything into a pot!"

We erupted into giggles, the sound filling the kitchen and creating an atmosphere of joy. As we rolled out the dough together, flour dust danced in the air, settling lightly on our cheeks.

Penelope turned to me, her expression softening. "You know, Sabryna, I'm so glad you're here. You've brought a light into our lives that was missing for too long."

I felt a warmth blossom in my chest at her words. "Thank you, Penelope. I feel the same way. It's nice to have someone to share this with."

As we continued to cook, the kitchen filled with laughter, love, and the sweet anticipation of a meal shared with friends. I glanced at Ethos, peacefully asleep in his cradle, and my heart swelled with gratitude for this new beginning.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the laughter of friendship, I realized that while the shadows of the past might linger, they no longer held me captive. With each stirring of the pot and each shared laugh, I felt hope bloom anew.

As we set the table together, I looked at Penelope and smiled. "Let's make this a feast worthy of our loved ones."

"Yes," she agreed, her eyes shining. "For them, and for us."

With the kitchen filled with the sweet aroma of our meal and the sound of our laughter echoing through the halls of Ithaca, I felt a sense of warmth and belonging. As I touched the necklace that Chapheris had given me before she died, a wave of warmth washed over me. The delicate jewel shimmered in the soft light, a symbol of our unbreakable bond in Troy. Though she was gone, her spirit lived on in my memories and the love we shared. I closed my eyes, whispering a silent promise to keep her memory alive in my heart. Just beyond the kitchen door, Ethos slept soundly in the room next door, a gentle reminder of the love that surrounded me. In that moment, I realized I had found my place. The love of both Hector and Achilles resided in my heart, guiding me toward a future filled with hope and joy for both myself and my son.

THUS, THE TALE CONCLUDES