In the council hall of Artemis's temple at Colonas, oil lamps flickered. Their light made the hunting scenes carved into marble pillars seem to dance.
The air smelled of myrrh and sage. And the suffocating, metallic tang of fresh blood. A contradiction. Like the conflicted, dim light itself.
An Amazon warrior lay on a cold stone slab in the center. Her leather armor was torn in many places. As if slashed by beast claws.
Crude bandages were soaked a deep crimson. They rose and fell with her shallow breaths.
Each inhale came with a soft hiss. A sign of a punctured lung.
Melanippe clenched her fists. Veins stood out on her bronze hands like vines.
Her deep brown eyes were fixed on the wounded woman. As if branding the sight into her soul.
She spoke through gritted teeth, her voice low and raw. "Who? Who dared harm an Amazon sister? I swear—they'll pay in blood."
Her fingers unconsciously touched the crescent moon pendant at her chest. The symbol of Artemis.
High Priest Hipp's voice was low with grief. Her black hair, streaked with silver, looked solemn in the dim light.
"Five fine warriors... Came all the way from our homeland by the Black Sea. Brought trade hopes... goodwill... But... Now only she remains. Bearing this terrible news."
Hipp's hand rested on the edge of the slab. Her knuckles were white.
Tears streamed endlessly from the wounded warrior's eyes. Soaked into the hair at her temples.
Her glazed eyes seemed to still see the scattered, bloodied wreckage of their goods—
Precious wild Echinacea, wormwood, finely crafted Amazon ritual cloaks and moon-goddess charms...
But what pained her most... were her sisters, fallen in their own blood... their unblinking eyes, filled with fury and despair...
"On... on the trade route of Mount Ida... Fifty kilometers from Colonas..."
The survivor's voice was strained. Blood-flecked bubbles formed at her lips with each word.
"They... at least twenty men... Well-armed... Looked like Trojan soldiers... But they called themselves bandits..."
A violent cough wracked her body. She curled in agony. Like a wounded lioness.
"Our captain... showed them the alliance seal... But their leader just laughed... Said... 'No alliances here. Only death!'..."
Her hand clawed at her empty left arm, where an Amazon arm-ring should have been.
Her voice grew faint, full of pain. "The arm-ring… taken… ripped from me. They weren't ordinary bandits… They knew its meaning… It was betrayal…"
Melanippe's head snapped up. Her eyes burned with uncontrollable fury. Her voice shook with rage. Held absolute resolve.
"I don't care if they're real bandits or Trojan scum! They killed Amazon sisters! Defiled a path under the Moon Goddess's protection!"
"I will have vengeance for my sisters! I will sanctify their spirits with the blood of these dogs!"
Hipp calmly reached out. Placed a firm hand on Melanippe's trembling shoulder.
"This child's recklessness will get her killed... She doesn't understand yet. Rage can burn your own."
Hipp sighed inwardly. But her face remained a priestess's mask of calm.
Hipp's voice was cold, solid stone. Trying to smother Melanippe's fire.
"At least twenty men. Armed like proper Trojan soldiers."
"We need time. To investigate. To gather our scattered sisters from nearby."
"Charging in recklessly is just suicide."
Ainippe stepped forward silently. Placed herself between them. Her gaze was soft but firm on Melanippe's face.
"Princess Melanippe's eyes… She's not listening. I'll have to keep a close watch on her tonight."
Alarm bells rang inside Ainippe. But she kept her composure.
Her tone was gentle. Left no room for argument. "The High Priest is right. We need a plan. More fighters. Rushing in means more sisters dead for nothing."
Melanippe looked at the two women trying to calm her. She only felt a lonely rage.
She spoke through clenched teeth. Her voice was wounded. Defiant.
"Don't you understand? Our sister's blood is still wet in the dirt!"
"Waiting? Waiting just lets the killers gloat!"
Hipp sighed softly. "Remember. The Amazon-Troy alliance is fragile as a cicada's wing."
"The wounds from the Attica war fifteen years ago never truly healed. If this is a plot by some Trojan prince, your recklessness will bring disaster to the whole tribe."
The heated debate ended. The council hall fell into brief silence. Only the wounded warrior's moans remained. They hung in the air. Needles pricking every heart.
Hipp finally shook her head. She signaled other priestesses. They carefully lifted the wounded woman from the slab. Carried her to the inner chambers for treatment.
Their movements were gentle. As if handling a newborn. But every face was grim.
Melanippe watched them carry the survivor away. A flash of pain crossed her eyes.
She turned sharply. Her deep brown hair cut a fierce arc through the air. Even her hair seemed angry.
She strode from the hall. Her footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. Firm. Lonely. Each step a protest against an unjust world.
Back in her room, Melanippe touched her crescent moon pendant. Her chest heaved.
She prayed in a low voice. It was thick with suppressed fury. And resolve.
"Artemis, Lady of the Hunt, Mistress of Vengeance. Guide my arrows. Let them drink the blood of our enemies. Even if I go alone, I will get justice for my sisters!"
Moonlight through the window grille fell on her face. It edged her determined profile in silver.
At dusk, she decisively removed her priestess robes. Changed into the light leather armor of an Amazon warrior.
She slung her longbow across her back. Buckled a sharp shortsword at her hip. The bronze mirror showed no gentle priestess-in-training. Only a sharp-eyed warrior of vengeance.
The Colonas temple stables were bathed in the gold-red light of sunset. Nesting birds chirped under the eaves. A prelude to coming adventure.
Melanippe's beloved horse—a tall chestnut mare named "Blood Moon"—seemed to sense her mood. She pawed the ground impatiently. A dull, thudding sound.
Melanippe stroked the mare's mane. Pressed her face against its warm neck. Whispered.
"Blood Moon. Tonight, it's just you and me. We will have justice for our sisters. We will make them pay." Her voice was quiet. But held undeniable force.
She swung onto the horse's back. No hesitation.
A flick of the reins. The chestnut mare shot forward like an arrow. She burst from the stables. Her hooves shattered the temple's twilight tranquility.
On the dusk-filled trade road, the path was rutted with cart tracks. But one set of scattered hoofprints stood out—uneven, faltering. The desperate trail left by the wounded Amazon who had brought the news.
Melanippe urged her horse into a gallop. She followed the hoofprints. A necessary skill for any skilled Amazon.
Her slender, athletic figure wove through the long tree shadows. Dust plumed behind her. A golden mist in the sunset.
In the distance, the outline of Mount Ida grew deeper. More dangerous in the twilight. Like a lurking beast.
Not long after Melanippe left, Ainippe also changed into leather armor. She tied her chestnut hair into a practical ponytail. Hurried to the stables.
Her white horse, "Wind Hoof," waited patiently. Its gentle eyes seemed to understand everything.
At the stable entrance, High Priest Hipp stood silently. She seemed part of the twilight.
A few black strands in her silver hair stirred in the evening breeze. She watched Ainippe with a complex gaze.
Hipp released a long sigh. It was full of resignation. And foresight.
"I knew she wouldn't be able to bear it. And I knew you would follow. Melanippe's recklessness will bring danger. She needs a keeper. But she also needs room to grow."
Hipp drew a small silver charm from her sleeve. It was engraved with an intricate moon pattern. She placed it solemnly in Ainippe's hand.
The charm gleamed softly in the fading light. Hipp spoke softly. "May the Moon Goddess guide her. And protect you. Troy cannot be fully trusted. But it is not without light."
"Go to Maple Ridge on Mount Ida." Hipp pointed east, toward the twilight-shrouded mountains.
"Find our long-absent sister—Arisbe. She and her family will be your friends."
"Those she trusts will be your allies. Show her this charm. She will know who sent you."
Hipp's thoughts drifted to the distant past. To her girlhood friend Arisbe.
That beautiful, determined young Amazon. A hope for tribal alliance with Troy. Married to the young prince Priam.
But the new king who used his wife to secure his power was a thankless snake. The wounded Arisbe withdrew to Maple Ridge in the Dardan Valley. News of her grew scarce.
I wonder... how is my dear friend...?
Ainippe gripped the charm. Felt the residual warmth from the metal. She nodded firmly. "I will keep Princess Melanippe safe. I swear it on my life.
"But give her room to grow," Hipp stressed again. Her gaze was sharp as an eagle's.
"Don't reveal yourself unless her life is in danger. Let her face the storm. But don't let it break her."
Ainippe swung onto Wind Hoof. She gave Hipp a reassuring look, then kicked the mare's sides gently.
The white horse streaked away like silver lightning, following Melanippe's hoofprints into the deepening dusk.
On the blessing platform of the Colonas temple, the great bronze statue of Artemis gleamed in the sunset. The goddess held her bow. Gazed eastward. As if she, too, yearned for a distant homeland.
The whole platform was bathed in a magnificent, sorrowful gold-red light. The setting sun fell like molten gold on the stone floor. Gilding everything in a warm, yet heart-breaking, glow.
High Priest Hipp stood alone at the platform's edge. Her linen-and-hide priestly robes stirred in the evening breeze.
She gazed at the distant, serrated silhouette of the Ida range. At the two plumes of dust that had vanished, one after the other, beyond the horizon—
One was Melanippe's shadow of vengeance, resolute. The other, Ainippe's trail of protection, steadfast.
The calm authority she wore in the council hall was gone. Replaced by deep worry. And hope.
Her eyes, always wise, now held complex emotions. The few dark strands in her silver hair lifted in the wind. They seemed to speak of wisdom and care accumulated over years.
"Children, may the Moon Goddess's silver light your path. May your fury find the right target. May distant friendship resolve the danger at hand..."
Hipp prayed silently. Her fingers absently traced the silver crescent pendant at her chest. "Arisbe, I pray you still remember the songs of home..."
The last of the sunset's glow swept across the platform. Stretched Hipp's shadow long.
Night began to fall. The first star twinkled at the sky's edge. A distant echo of the moon goddess statue. As if Artemis herself was answering her prayer.
Hipp took a deep breath. Began to chant an ancient Amazon prayer. Her voice was distant. Melancholy.
"She spreads her ribs out for a road,
The stars sow light into the soil.
The mountain range, our mother's unbent spine,
The rivers hum the names of forgotten gods.
We stitch our war-flags with the howl of wolves,
On kneeling deer's knees, pray for homeland's peace.
If bowstrings snap, we'll string them with our veins,
If quivers empty, forge our ribs to arrows.
May coming war drown deep in pools of mead,
May sharpened bronze grow rust between the wheat.
When our children find the shattered spears,
May they see fresh, green shoots instead."
The song drifted on the wind. Blended into the deepening dusk. A blessing for the two warriors on their journey. A plea for peace for this troubled land.
The last note faded into the night air. Hipp remained on the blessing platform. Steadfast as the goddess's statue. Watching the distance. Keeping watch over hope.