PooryaRafsanjaniAsl
When the last flames blazed over peninsula of Ithaca, nothing was same anymore.
On a night filled with blood, screams, and death, the suitors-who had lounged in the palace for years and squandered Odysseus's fortune-finally tore off their mask of patience.
With the help of their allied forces, they conquered the palace one section after another. Penelope, the queen who had stood against them for years with intelligence and resilience, lost her life in that very chaos.
Telemachus, the young prince, wounded and covered in blood, fled with a handful of remaining loyalists through the secret tunnels beneath palace.
They boarded the last usable ship and sailed away into darkness of night...
Leaving behind a shore that had turned into a hell of fire and blood.
But the sea showed no mercy.
The pursuing fleet soon found them...
Arrows rained down like a storm of fire from the sky.
One by one, the ships sank into the blazing flames.
Telemachus's ship, too, was torn apart amidst the storm and fire...
He was the sole survivor; a young man who drifted for days and weeks on a piece of broken wreckage, among raging waves, under a scorching sun and merciless nights.
Hunger, thirst, and fever pushed his body and soul to the brink of destruction...
No longer had a kingdom, a mother, a home, or even a shred of hope.
Until the ocean currents finally cast his boat onto the shore of a island...
Place where Circe, the great sorceress and daughter of the Sun, resided.
A woman who had lived for centuries in this remote land, ruling alongside her nymphs.
Circe found Telemachus on the shore, half-dead and completely broken-a young man who no longer even deserved the title of prince.
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(*This is a story based on the Telemachus x Circe fanfiction.*)