Scarlet—violent like the sorrowful sunset.
Blue—as the bluest Tyrian sap from the most precious and torturous shell.
And wicked as one can be—with no mercy and not a hint of remorse on those souls who hoped for Athena's immediate demise.
Lashes after lashes—
One could count the days on these red lines that scared her body.
Bruises after bruises—
Once skin white as the most precious ivory, now all battered by the goddesses' hatred.
Athena was slowly withering. Heavy chains, as strong as her forgotten strength, bounded her to the pillar like a slaughtered calf. And with her recent ordeal, a receiver for those sharp blows by Enyo and Eris, her lips were sealed from crying. She could not even wail the pain out, biting her tongue and not even a little note to escape from her mouth.
The two goddesses reveled at the poor maiden's struggle, continuing with their heartless whips.
With every lash that horrifyingly ornate her back, the crowds cheered—men and women screamed for more. Enyo and Eris gladly obliged their wishes, cheekily grinning as they added more and more wounds onto her.
It was a scourge worthy of a criminal—but the one on the pillar was far from that disposition.
"Not feeling any pain, Athena?" Eris jestingly questioned as she added one more strong slash on top of another one.
From this loathsome performance, blood gushed out like waterfalls. New wound after new wound, Athena's back was like a canvas painted with hatred and wrath.
After Eris's turn, Enyo went for hers and gave another blow to the restrained Athena. Her laughter resonated—maniacally echoing throughout the room once she saw how her slash left a large slice into the flesh, causing the maiden to give out a little whimper.
"Oh dear, is that a cry I hear, Athena?" Another blow onto the helpless prisoner. "Come on now, we need to hear another of that sweet voice."
Athena looked away, leaning into the pillar as she tried to seal her tears. "Please do not break. Please do not break!" She repeatedly thought while the two goddesses continued to inflict horrors on her.
The cheering got louder.
Athena slowly looked at the audience and realized how large the room was, enough to keep savages inside—creating a circus, a nightmare that pushed through the boundaries of reality.
By those claps and glee voices, Enyo felt the strong encouragement—awakening some brutality in her and immediately responded with a fiery scourge on Athena as if she was slaughtering a bull. A liter of scarlet dripped down to the prisoner's feet, tainting the floor of her unspoken pain and struggle.
Athena's ears were hurting from all the booming noise that hoped for her instant death. As the spectacle went on, Athena gazed again at the wild audience and noticed familiar faces—who had once called forth for her help when darkness almost choked them out of air.
There was that woman she remembered crying before her statue, beseeching her aid for her son's safety during the fifteen-year conflict between Athens and Sparta. As a matter of fact, her son survived but paid the price of losing an eye. But despite the bittersweet aftermath, the whole family rejoiced at his second life.
But now, Athena understood that perhaps her gift had a limit. From being a devotee, the mother became her ruthless persecutor—shouting her judgment of death along with the others.
There was also that man, a father, who had offered her a lamb in return for his three daughters' successes in a weaving competition during a local feast. Now—he, his wife, and three daughters made sour faces, cursing and cheering for every new slash she gained.
Several of them were once her faithful followers, but something had changed—something within their souls got twisted as they all hoped for more battery on her.
Athena's heart shattered into a thousand pieces, with only a thin line of chance to piece it back into its original form. Yet, why bother having such wishful thinking? If her heart got fixed, would it still be the same heart? Would it still be the same rose-colored jewel that pumped with much mercy, much hope, and much tenacity for justice? She could no longer tell. The wisest maiden of them all could no longer see, even in hindsight, the answers to her mounting questions about her new reality. She knew not what her heart would look like after healing or if there was any healing that awaited after the storm.
Will she ever have a rainbow?
Will she gain a happily ever after like those tales told to little children by their grandparents?
Athena could not tell.
As she closed her eyes, her mind went blank—just nothing. There were no images, no sound, just a pure abyss where one could neither feel happiness nor sadness. Silver eyes slowly felt comfort in such a barren scene. Her colorful head floated on the numbness. No more did she feel the agony of the scourges and the loud cries of madness and hatchet jobs.
Athena suddenly hummed a familiar lullaby. It was beautiful, but she could not remember when and where she heard it. A voice then sang along with her. It was calm and lovely, but she could not tell if there was familiarity or only admiration for such harmony they both created amidst the dense silence of the dark.
Even so, now, as a mere mortal lady, a nightmare came along the wake of her little fantasy.
"Wake up, you fool! It is no time for dreaming!" Eris yelled as she pulled Athena's hair.
"Oh dear, admitting defeat already?" Enyo followed. "This is not yet the final act, Athena. Soldiers, please turn her around."
Two men obeyed, unchaining Athena, and turned her around to face the two goddesses.
"The back is scarlet, but the front is still as lovely as the freshly bloomed peony." The goddess of discord teased, smirking at the jailbird with sparkling eyes and a stance as proud as one can be. "What is the final act, dear goddess?" She then addresses Enyo.
"Well, this—" At once, brutal hands clawed and ripped the remaining fabric that covered Athena. Enyo laughed—rejoicing at the shame they bestowed upon the pathetic maiden's dignity.
Silver eyes were almost eclipsed by the dilating pupil, petrified by what just happened.
"Ha! Ha! Oh, those who were hungry will feast on such sight." Enyo answered.
True it was—hungry eyes devoured the sight of the now fully naked lady chained before them.
Many of the men's mouths watered—slavering at the immaculate skin Athena was blessed with.
She may be a human now, but her physical form was still of a revered goddess. She was perfect. She was everything a lovesick individual desired—
Skin like the polished ivory—hinted with spots of dainty blush on her cheeks, shoulders, elbows, and knees. There were her bosoms—ample and distinctly rosy on the tips. Everything of Athena, despite the little blacks and blues, was best described as Pygmalion's missing masterpiece.
She was every man's hidden yearning.
As Athena faced the crowd once more, the whole area turned into a den of monsters. The room gradually morphed into the hue of scarlet—like the blood dripping from her wounds. It was also dark, gloomily black compared to the nights during a war. Some eyes glared at her, brightly glowing and undoubtedly savoring every inch of her.
The people were not ashamed of the perversion they displayed. They were like a pack of wolves ready to strike when the right moment came.
"The starved hunters would eat to the last muscle on the bone," Under her labored breaths, Athena stated.
But above all the grim occurrence, Athena remembered the lullaby that she hummed in her short sleep. She suddenly continued singing while looking up to the ceiling as her naive head hoped all would be alright afterward.
At this time, silver eyes drowned in a sea of unceasing tears. Salty, sweet, a concoction of both defeat and optimism. Eyes turned crimson—subtle but enough to tell a story of lethargy, bidding a last farewell to the aurora of second chances.
As promised for the final act—after every blow and after every sharp word—Enyo slapped Athena hard enough for her to drift back to the abysmal of forsaken silence.
The poor little owl had given everyone a momentous play of derangement and the best paradigm of a fall from grace.