Four days of the grand feast of the seven moons and seven suns had gone past like the currents of the water—undone, unceasing, and will never be the same water every second.
The remaining three days of the grand feast of the seven moons and seven suns were stupefaction, shrouded in eternal darkness.
And three more days, after the fall of Hellas—
Athena suffered under the hands of Enyo and Eris.
A pitiful little creature, a dainty flower, an innocent owlet still navigating the world—Athena was a soul in a woeful poem. Lost, out of touch, and numb to the very bones.
Her child-like essence was vanquished as the goddesses and audience continued to mock her. Even the mice that hid in little cracks had more liberty than her.
More scourging, more invectives—Athena's once beautiful and wise mind was now veiled in a black fabric. She could even feel her spirit chained with briars. And with every glow or a hint of hope brewing inside her, thorns stabbed right through her.
Her bare body, once sealed with a robe of ethereal dignity and glimmering under a sacred light, was now detailed with forlorn wounds that were forfeited with healing as promised by every rainbow that arched after a rain.
"I guess misery is my new friend." A little curve formed on her lips, accepting the verity that her mortal life would be a handful of uphill battles.
And on that third dusk, once Enyo and Eris were done tormenting her, Athena drifted back to her dreamlike state—all darkness, no sound, and devoid of all tangible things that provoked the senses.
But no sooner, a light shined through—
"Olympus!" Athena delightfully squealed after the glaring light settled in. "Home?" She then asked herself. It was too good to be true, knowing she was in a new place under Enyo and Eris's wing a while ago. Yet the scenery of Olympus—feeling it, touching every flower that swayed on the gentle breeze felt so real.
Silver-eyed maiden pinched herself—but she did not wake up.
Everything was real.
The rose she picked from the bush—it was real and not some imagination.
Athena immediately ran to her suite, gliding as she felt like her old divine self again. Her smile was radiating as a new breath of life flowed inside her.
"I—I am home!" She joyfully heralded as she entered her suite, seeing that everything was untouched by the recent destruction.
The bed, her table, the unfinished pots, and her loom were all left untarnished. Her abode remained how she left it.
Athena sang and danced, and her giggles echoed throughout the four corners of her haven. As she looked out through the window, the sky was clear, and the moon began her ascension. The stars also twinkled, welcoming her back to where she knew she always belonged.
Her heart felt the comforting bliss again, beating to the melody she knew too well that she could not find in any other.
The smell of myrrh and lavender lingered in the air, tingling her nose and brain for a leisurely rest. Like a bambi little girl, she bent down to the temptation and fell back to her downy bed—feeling every softness it offered.
"My soul felt ecstatic as if I had tasted the glistening rays of the golden afternoon. Oh, sweet night—take my heart and let not this refuge be lost forever!" Sweet words courteously expelled from her mouth like ripe apples falling from its mother tree.
The beam on her face was a marvel sight to see. Blush rushed through her cheeks as if stricken by love. A ludus love that teased the soles of her feet, although romance was not a present single cell in her whole being.
Nevertheless, Athena now felt free, back to her old self with silver eyes sparkling like those stars on the velvet sky.
Once her body familiarized with the current solace, she let herself sink into the bed while slowly drowsing to the land of Nod. And no sooner—her eyes flutter no more as her breast beautifully rose and fell into the rhythm of calmness.
No scenes were playing in her benign thought. Athena just plainly rested as the bed she laid suddenly grew roses of red and white, along with pink blooming peonies, that kissed every bit of her skin.
The whole aura was far from the chaos she just went into. But perhaps those trials were only a nightmare, and this was the reality. Those beatings she endured were nothing but a figment of a hidden fear she did not know existed in her core. But all was well now. No one and nothing could harm her, knowing she was again the revered Pallas Athena.
And sinking deeper into her slumber, Athena unknowingly painted a lovely smile on her flushed face—a perfect epitome of enchantment, enough to enthrall a hopeless romantic or a downhearted artist who searched far and wide for a muse.
As time slowly passed, the flowers that magically appeared in her bed gradually grew taller—burying her until what was left visible was her fair face.
How Athena looked was something unworldly—a sleeping beauty who waited for some kiss to wake her up. Despite being almost covered with peonies and roses, the lovely one seemed unbothered as she continued sleeping.
The moon above felt satisfied as she looked down at Athena, brightly flaring on a dark evening.
In spite of finding paradise, the euphoric happiness was not for forever.
Out of the blue, the same briars that trapped her soul grew—overpowering the peonies and roses until they wilted in dark hues. Large thorns immediately pierced through, prompting Athena to open her eyes. Her hands, feet, and whole back now had bleeding cuts and unforgiving bruises.
In rapid speed and unpredictable pattern, the thorns grew larger—stabbing through her skin and muscle, drenching her bed with more of her crimson fluid.
Athena let out a blood-curdling scream as the pain and brutality gnawed both inside and outside of her. As her ear-piercing wails echoed, an earthquake occurred, causing the heavenly palace to crack and split down the middle.
The poor maiden could not move as the briars coiled her limbs, restraining her from a chance of an escape.
She screamed—
She resisted—
Athena was fighting for her life as the vile weed tightened on her. Little by little, the thorns grew even more—engulfing her like a claw, tearing and stabbing as if she were some forgotten cadaver left to rot in a bog.
With one last chance of seeing the light, the maiden helplessly cried, reaching out to the heavens with a plea in her heart for mercy.
Oh, how the tables had turned when a serendipitous tale came to life: a beloved goddess became the impoverished.
Darkness befell on her like an unwelcome guess who opened the door for himself. For many days now, the nothingness had become an acquainted friend. Shivers were tingling in her pores from the start—a bewilderment. But when the outpouring of hate nailed her, suppressing her soul and her entire being like an ant, the darkness had become her friend.
Her fantasy was indeed a nightmare. Even dreams were no longer kind to her.
Before Athena opened her eyes to the real world, she realized her body was not responding to her will. Dear little Owlet was paralyzed—completely still and locked in her position like a stone, unmoved throughout the time. Her tongue turned solid, a hindrance only allowing a moan as she tried to call out to someone in the vicinity.
Eyes closed and mimed, Athena looked so desperate—so helpless. But when a single droplet of water fell on her face, silver eyes flew open. Immediately after waking up, her lungs selfishly breathed fresh new air.
Overawed with saucer gaze as she lay on the floor, Athena observed the change of the scenery. It was a new cell—the same coral walls but different from the first as it was more open, having an iron bar for a door instead of a closed one.
Lingering more in her flat position, Athena then noticed the softness under her that cradled her warm and panging wounds. As she wriggled her hands and feet, she realized the presence of the red fabric—an object, a blanket of integrity that covered her naked and cold body.
"Who—who put these here?" She wondered as she recalled those individual faces who came to witness her torture. She questioned whether among those wicked were a few kind souls who remained silent as they felt overpowered by the dreaded aura. But as she recalled more, most of the audience were brutal—shouting and clapping at every lash she received. Athena finally concluded that a small kindness would be impossible in an environment filled with heinousness.
Impulsively, as if the missing child in her core took over—Athena pulled the red cloth to her face and caressed it through her cheek as she sought comfort. The naive gesture worked as she rested on the fabric, even noting the strong scent of violets attached to it.
"You are my haven now." In a soft tone, she reassured herself.