The picturesque village of Arcadia lay peacefully in a green valley, surrounded by the majestic mountains of Athens. Warm sunlight cast a radiant glow on the small settlement, while a gentle breeze wafted the aromatic scents of olive groves and freshly tilled earth. Soothing birdsong echoed through the serene landscape, harmonizing with the tranquil atmosphere that has long characterized this idyllic corner of the region.
Lisandra sat by the gentle stream that flowed through the village, letting her fingers drift lazily in the cool water. Her brown hair fell in soft waves and shimmered in the sunlight as she was lost in thought. This was her favorite place, far away from the hustle and bustle of the village and the noise of the preparations for her sister's upcoming wedding. Here she could listen to the soothing murmur of the water and let her mind wander, dreaming of the possibilities that lay beyond the quiet confines of her village.
Lisandra sincerely valued her home, her family and her community. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that greater destiny awaited her beyond her familiar surroundings.
The captivating stories of battles and warriors told by her father and uncle had fired her childish imagination, conjuring up visions of distant lands and fierce conflict. She deeply admired the unwavering courage and honor of the Spartans. But her position as the youngest daughter in a humble household was a far cry from the heroic ideals she aspired to embody.
Lisandra's mother's voice broke through her brooding and called out from the door of her stone cottage. "Lisandra," she said, hands on her hips, her gaze a mixture of sternness and affection.
"You've been out there long enough. Come in and help us get ready!"
Her uncle, who was sitting nearby, chuckled and remarked:
"She has her head in the clouds, just like her mother when she was young."
Her father's expression softened at the mention of her mother.
"Yes, but the clouds will pass. One day you will see the world as it is."
Lisandra sensed the seriousness in his words, although she wasn't quite sure what he was implying.
She nodded briefly and hurried into the house, feeling a slight heaviness in her heart. She pushed the feeling aside and forced herself to stay present and focus on the moment.
The house was bustling with activity. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread lingered in the air while her mother, a resilient woman with greying hair, worked tirelessly in the kitchen. Her nimble hands kneaded dough, stirred pots and organized the supplies for the upcoming wedding celebration. Despite the fatigue that could be seen in her face, her presence radiated a calming energy that made the house seem alive and vibrant.
Lisandra's sisters were gathered around the large wooden table, their laughter and lively chatter filling the room.
Penelope, the radiant bride-to-be, was the center of attention, her cheeks flushed with unbridled excitement. Her fiancé, a kind and courageous man from the village, was by her side.
Their love had blossomed over the past year, and the entire community of the village eagerly awaited the day when the two would tie the knot.
"Lisandra!" Penelope exclaimed happily, her face lighting up with a warm smile.
"Perfect timing! I could use your help picking out a wreath for my hair."
Lisandra approached the table, where her sisters had carefully crafted several beautiful wreaths of laurel, wildflowers and olive branches for the special occasion. Penelope, who was very concerned about her appearance, had made sure that everything was perfect on her wedding day.
"You should put on the laurel wreath," said Lisandra, picking up the fragile wreath.
"It is simple and beautiful, just like you."
Penelope's cheeks reddened as she received the wreath from her sibling and placed it on her head.
"I have faith in your decision, younger sister." Sophia, the other sister, who had already married, took the floor.
"Penelope, you don't need to buy anything too fancy. Aristides loved you just as you are."
The room was filled with laughter and excitement about the impending wedding that permeated their small house. Lisandra smirked, but part of her felt like she didn't belong here. Her sisters had all grown up, two of them were already married and Penelope would soon be too.
Lisandra felt like she was watching her sister's lives from afar, while her own future remained unclear and untouched by the same happiness they had discovered.
When Lisandra left the room, she noticed that the village had been in a state of unrest for several days. The Persians were approaching and the atmosphere was tense and uneasy. Her father and uncle were sharpening their weapons with serious expressions and preparing for the upcoming battle. The men of the village trained with all the energy they could muster, but their actions were characterized by fear.
Her father noticed her outside and told her to stay in the house.
Although she wanted to hide, the things she treasured were in danger of being destroyed.
The village bell suddenly began to ring, and the watchman standing on the watchtower shouted:
"The Persians are coming!"
People rushed to the entrances of the village carrying weapons.
Women and children screamed in fear and sought shelter.
Lisandra's father and uncle stood in the front line; their faces anxious but determined. Her sisters hugged their spouses and exchanged emotional farewells.
"Take care of each other," said Penelope's fiancé, and kissed her on the forehead. His tone was uncertain, but he tried to appear composed for her sake.
"I will come back to you."
Subliminally, they both recognized realities. It was highly unlikely that any of the men would make it out alive
Persian warriors attacked the village with great force, like a mighty storm. Lisandra's father fought bravely, his spear gleaming in the dim light with the strength of a lion.
But the Persians were stubborn and killed anyone who stood in their way.
Her father shouted orders, but was soon overwhelmed and lost sight of among the many Persians.
Lisandra remained motionless and powerless as her sister's husbands were attacked and killed one by one. Sophia's husband, a gentle man who often amused Lisandra, cried out in pain as a Persian sword pierced his torso.
He collapsed on the floor, bleeding, his eyes filled with astonishment. Sophia cried out, but the damage had already been done.
Lydia's husband, a reserved man with limited speech, fought bravely but was overwhelmed by the Persian attack.
His body slumped to the ground, his lifeless eyes gazing upwards. Lydia cried, her screams echoing through the air.
Aristides, the brave and bold man with whom Penelope had fallen in love, rushed at the Persians with his sword raised. But his bravery was no match for their overwhelming numbers. They struck him down mercilessly, and Penelope's desperate cry echoed through the village as she witnessed his death. Lisandra was overwhelmed by the destruction that surrounded her and found it difficult to make sense of the situation. Things should not go on like this. Her sisters were supposed to lead happy lives, start families and grow old with their husbands.
But now she had the feeling that everything was slipping away from her.
Lisandra was snapped out of her trance by her mother's sharp command. "Come into the house now!" her mother urged.
Her mother grabbed her and forcibly led her back into the house, her grip firm and alarming.
Once inside, the comforting warmth of her home now felt overwhelming. The walls that had given her comfort before now felt like a prison. Tears streamed down her face, and Lisandra's mother pushed her towards the hidden compartment under the floor.
"You have to hide," her mother said quietly, her voice trembling.
"You are not allowed to come out of here no matter what happens outside."
"I can't leave you all behind!" Lisandra exclaimed, her voice shaking with fear and anger. "I will not hide while they..."
"Survive, my child!" her mother shouted, her voice full of urgency and determination. "I could not bear to lose you. I do not think I would have the strength to go on."
Tears welled up in Lisandra's eyes as she slipped into the hidden chamber. Through a tiny crack in the floorboards, she saw her mother sealing the lid to protect her from the horrors looming over her. Her heart raced, and each thunderous beat reflected the turmoil beyond.
The front door to their residence was forcefully broken open with a loud bang.
Persian warriors rushed in; their expressions filled with malicious glee. Her mother and siblings stood clustered together, their complexions pale but resolute.
Lisandra watched in horror as the soldiers ransacked her house, searching for anything of value. A soldier grabbed Sophia by the hair and dragged her away from the house.
She screamed, kicked and struggled, but it was no use. Another soldier grabbed Lydia and pinned her to the ground as she screamed in pain. Lisandra's heart broke as she watched her sisters being raped, and she was powerless to stop it. Every scream, every tear, cut into her soul like a blade. Her mother threw herself at the soldiers in a desperate attempt to save her children, but they easily overpowered her. They punched her in the face, causing her to fall to the ground.
"No!" Lisandra wanted to scream, but the words died in her throat. She was trapped, helpless, forced to watch her family being torn apart.
The Persians showed no mercy. They took what they wanted and left nothing but destruction in their wake.
Lisandra's sisters once so full of life and love were nothing but broken, bloody bodies. Their mother, who had always been so strong and protective, lay motionless on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Lisandra's body shook with silent sobs as the hours passed.
The soldiers plundered the village, burning houses and slaughtering livestock, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake. The smell of burning bodies filled the air and the distant screams of other women echoed through the night.
When the soldiers finally left, taking what they could carry with them, Lisandra remained frozen in the hidden chamber. Her body ached from the cramped position, but she could not move. She could not face what was waiting for her outside.
The village was gone. The life she had known was gone.
Everything had been reduced to rubble. After what felt like an eternity, Lisandra finally emerged from the chamber, her legs trembling as she stepped into the cold, silent night. The once vibrant village of Arcadia was now a graveyard.
Corpses lay strewn about the streets, their lifeless eyes staring up at the stars. The smell of burnt wood and flesh filled the air and made Lisandra retch.
She stumbled towards her home — or what was left of it. The bodies of her sisters still lay there, twisted and broken. Her mother lay nearby, her once warm arms now cold and lifeless. Lisandra sank to her knees, her whole-body trembling with grief. She pressed her forehead to the ground, her tears mingling with the dirt. The weight of everything crashed down on her, crushing her under its unbearable weight.
Yet even in the midst of her despair, something hardened in Lisandra. She clenched her fists, her nails dug into her palms until they bled. The grief was overwhelming, but it was quickly replaced by something else.
The Persians had taken everything from her. Her family, her home, her innocence.
They had taken everything that was dear to her and left her with nothing but pain and anger.