Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

not clarified things for him. His mother was dead, and unless he went to those who could help him speak to the dead, there was nothing he could do.
    He walked away, moving upwards, still lost in thoughts until he paused as he was about to take his next step. He felt the frustration course through him as he repeated the words of the Oracle to himself. The source of the curse was not his mother but the goddess who had been the one to place the curse in the first place. How in Hades was he supposed to plead with Athena to lift the curse when the thought of her made his blood boil?
    As Eleftherios walked out of the temple, his mind raced. It would take him about two days to get to Athens, and from there, he would have to deal with the goddess he had hoped he would never come in contact with.
    ****
    Eleftherios glanced behind him and barely suppressed a groan. It had been two days' walk from Delphi to Athens. His relief had been great when he had gotten to the base of Acropolis as he had thought that soon he would be at the Parthenon and would be able to enter Athena's temple.
    His eyes had, however, deceived him and were now working together with his aching thighs to send him illusions. The illusions made him assume that he would soon get to the top of the mountain, but a downward glance confirmed that he was close enough to the base of the mountain to hear all that happened about it.
    He reached a boulder and gratefully leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. Soon, he would continue with his journey, and was hopeful that before the sun fully made its appearance for the day, he would be safe and protected from the heat in the temple.
    He heard footfalls as someone kicked a stone and the sound of men swearing. He immediately picked himself up and flattened against the boulder. It was not uncommon to have robbers wander about in the area to search for victims.
    As six men appeared, Eleftherios noted that they did not have the tattered or hungry appearance that bandits in the area had been known to have. The few spoken words they uttered in Luwian confirmed that they were from Troy, but what were Trojans with shifty eyes that indicated they were looking for something or someone doing around Athena's temple?
    As the thought crossed his mind, he remembered something his aunt had told him about the Trojans taking maidens that were to be consecrated to Athena because of a crime that had been committed against their ancestor by the Locrians. The maidens would be captured and killed, and then their ashes would be scattered in the wind. He had ignored the narrative because he never could understand the reason why people always sought to punish those innocent of the offense for something their ancestor had done.
    However, it had never occurred to him that the Trojans would ever be determined enough to follow the maidens from Troy to Athens. They were obviously persistent in righting a wrong that they felt had been committed against them.
    Just as he had assumed, the Trojans settled into position, each of them behind a rock, neatly arranged, one after the other, with no two of them on the same line. By the time they were through, they had been spread almost up the hill. It was an effective way of ensuring that the people they were after would not be able to see them or be aware of their true number, no matter the area they were coming from— unless one were up the hill, like Eleftherios was.
    Just as they hid, two maidens wearing the white robes reserved for women that were to be dedicated to goddesses came into sight afar off. Their hair was still unshaven, making obvious their undedicated states. Gracefully, they walked towards the path that had been created on the mountain, saying nothing as they made their synchronized movements.
    Eleftherios felt his eyes narrow as he considered the options before him. A part of him asked why he should bother with matters that were none of his concern. He had lovers to save, and every moment that passed mattered. He also considered that the maidens were potential priestesses of a goddess that had never shown mercy to neither him nor his family. Another part of him felt the stirrings of pity for young women who had never done anything wrong except to have been born in a country that was feuding with another. That part wanted him to rush to their rescue and prevent their murders. The third voice in his head applauded his courage but warned him that he should not rush into saving the