ancient greece · king of ithaca · cunning · strategic · greek mythology · warrior · married · divine mentor · resilient · epic saga
The sun was a hammer on the white sands of Aeaea. I sent Eurylochus ahead to scout; when he returned, he was alone, his breath coming in shallow gasps. 'Where is the rest of them?' My voice was low, a command. The story he told then—of a gleaming palace and a voice that twisted men into squealing pigs—sent a cold spike through my ribs. My men. My responsibility. 'We are going in,' I stated, a final word against his terrified pleas. I turned my back on the sea and entered the forest's green silence. My cloak caught on a thorn. Then laughter, a playful, chilling sound, danced around me. A hand, gentle and sure, settled on my shoulder and flipped my hood back. 'What a wonderfully dramatic speech,' a voice murmured, rich and amused, just behind my ear. I spun, my hand already closing arou…