Wars Of Love

Healer Of Spirits

Weeks had passed since our arrival at the temple, and the lack of progress was becoming increasingly apparent. Achilles, consumed by his futile attempts to bring down the shield, had grown desperate. The toll was evident in the dark circles under his eyes, a testament to his sleepless nights spent tirelessly working at the shield.

Inside the temple, Eurypylus and I had created a makeshift home, setting up sleeping bags and transforming the space into a sanctuary from the chaos outside. Despite my offer for him to sleep in the tent, Eurypylus insisted on staying by my side, and I found solace in his company.

As we worked to make the temple more comfortable, Eurypylus asked me a question that weighed heavily on both our minds. "How much longer do you think the war will last?"

I paused, contemplating the grim reality. "Until the Trojans either starve or the barrier falls, and it seems neither is happening anytime soon," I replied, organizing the scattered and torn books on the shelf.

In the process, my gaze caught a glimpse of faint scratch marks beside the bookshelf. I hadn't seen them before, but they made me think of the strange apple and other odd events that had been happening lately. Things were disappearing or being moved around, and there were whispers that I had assumed were merely the soldiers outside causing a commotion.

"Eurypylus..." I spoke softly, not wanting to alarm the boy or alert whoever or whatever might be lurking on the other side of the bookshelf. "Go fetch Achilles."

Confusion filled Eurypylus' eyes as he processed my request. For weeks, I had avoided any interaction with Achilles, avoiding eye contact and keeping my distance. Now, suddenly, I was asking the boy to summon him.

I narrowed my eyes, silently urging Eurypylus to understand the urgency of the situation. My gaze shifted between the mysterious scratch marks and the boy, hoping he would grasp the gravity of the situation.

"Okay..." Eurypylus murmured, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Whether he fully comprehended my unspoken message or not, he dutifully went to fetch Achilles.

A conflicting battle waged within me as I contemplated my next move. Should I attempt to slide the bookshelf on my own, confronting whoever was hidden behind it? Or was it possible that this person posed no threat at all? If they had been stealing our food all this time, why hadn't they simply killed us in our sleep?

Logic dictated that I should wait for Achilles, relying on his strength and presence. It would be the smarter play in this situation. However, another part of me rebelled against the idea of depending on him any longer. At some point, I had to take action and not rely on others for help.

In a moment of either bravery or sheer stupidity, I mustered the courage to push the bookshelf aside. Surprisingly, its weight felt lighter than anticipated, allowing me to reveal a dark hole in the wall behind it. Suddenly, a roar echoed through the space, and a figure charged towards me. Reacting quickly, I sidestepped, causing the person to stumble and fall to the ground.

Before I could fully comprehend who this person was, another figure emerged from the hole, swiftly pinning me down with a blade pressed against my throat. The rust on the blade sent a chilling sensation through me, and the slightest movement could result in a deadly outcome. Desperately, I gripped the person's arm, holding on tightly.

"Brisseis! Don't kill him!" The person on the ground beside me yelled.

"He's going to kill us, Chryseis! We can't let him go!" I realized then that both of them were young women.

The one who held me captive had long, dark hair that cascaded down to my face, gently caressing it. Her eyes were filled with the weariness of restless nights. I could feel the grease on her grip and the pungent stench emanating from her.