With the raven that accompanied us on our journey, the mission began to feel achievable. I often noticed him perched on a branch during our rest stops one of his eyes always fixed on me. He seemed to pay no attention to anyone else.
Had the nymph enchanted the raven to watch over me? But I felt there was something more to it. My thoughts were interrupted by Heron.
"You will face difficult trials, Damocles," he said, as though confirming the suspicion I had already begun to entertain.
"My death?" I asked.
"It's impossible to say for certain," he replied. "There comes a moment in every man's life when fate delivers a decisive blow. Either you survive it, or you fall. And only you can walk that path."
"Do you believe that?" I asked. His words gave me much to ponder.
"No," he said sharply. I was taken aback. Heron smirked with his stern face though it looked like a smile, it was more a grimace than any sign of warmth. Was that a joke?
"Hmph. Seriously though, perhaps the greatest power granted to man is this: the ability to decide what his future will be. Yes, we Spartans live for our polis, for the glory of Sparta to echo through the ages. But many of us also choose another path one not carved by war."
I glanced at the raven a harbinger of doom and death.
The chains of fate can be broken. That much I knew. One just has to be ready.
The company resumed its march once we had rested. The raven soared into the sky and pointed the way. It was a clever creature it never strayed too far, as if it knew we had to see it. If ever we lost sight of it, it would croak, drawing our attention again, and once more showing us the path.
We had already cleansed one of the sites: we found the remains and performed the same ritual as before dug graves, committed the bones to the earth, and sprinkled coins upon the burial ground. Everything went more smoothly when the bird guided us straight to the place.
But a long road still lay ahead.
*************************
The war between Sparta and the Coalition of City-States had been brutal and merciless. Even the voices of the gods echoed across the heavens, forcing them to intervene. Word of the battles swept through all of Hellas, and the war itself soon became shrouded in rumor, legend, and myth though it had ended four years ago.
Yet neither rage, nor hatred, nor the ambitions of the warring sides had faded. Like Sparta, the other city-states continued to prepare for another bloodbath. Their armies grew, and new strategies were forged.
Realizing its vulnerability from the sea, Sparta began building a fleet. Before, their few ships couldn't withstand enemy patrols or defend the coast. But now, a new fort had been established on the southern shore a center for shipbuilding. Countless helots were relocated there to raise a fleet in the shortest time possible.
However, the greatest threat in the Aegean Sea did not come from man.
In its waters dwelled sirens and mermaids who lured fishermen and soldiers with their enchanting songs. Their voices robbed men of their will, clouded their minds, and led their ships to crash against the coastal reefs. Every attempt to destroy these sea-monsters had failed. Neither sword nor cunning could overcome their magic.
And in the depths, something even worse stirred a monster capable of swallowing entire ships whole: the Kraken.
The Spartans were well aware of these dangers and began to craft a plan a way to rid themselves of this plague once and for all, so their fleet could sail the seas without fear or interference.
Meanwhile, in the hearts of men, a new legend was taking shape.
Heracles. A hero born of song. His strength was unmatched by mortal or demigod alike. His feats became the pride of all Hellas. It was said he strangled the Nemean Lion with his bare hands and now wore its pelt as a cloak. He had slain the dreadful Lernaean Hydra a beast whose heads grew back anew. Heracles cauterized the wounds with fire, preventing any new heads from rising.
Many believed him a demigod, though no one knew for certain who his father truly was.
There were other demigods in Greece, but Heracles stood above them all his strength overwhelming, his will unbreakable.
**************************
For over a week, we carried out our task. With each passing day, it became clearer the land around us was healing, as though nature itself was restoring its eternal cycle. We destroyed countless restless dead that crossed our path. Judging by the distance covered and the number of sites cleansed, most of the work was done. But how much still remained I couldn't say. The raven could not speak.
When we reached the next site, I noticed something strange right away: there were no restless souls at all. And yet, the stench of death still clung to the air. Normally, such places held at least one or two shades wandering in the gloom. But here a haunting emptiness. The sun was sinking low, and in a few hours it would be too dangerous to venture deeper into the forest.
"Damocles, wasn't this where the Athenians clashed with the reserves?" Heron asked, his brow furrowed.
"Yes. Not far from here," I nodded.
After Hera restored the forest, the terrain had changed drastically. Everything was different unrecognizable from what we remembered. The old landmarks were gone, familiar paths vanished. No roads, no signs. We had to carve new ones ourselves, cutting through patches of forest to reclaim the old routes. Even after four years, many of them remained unrecovered.
"I knew the lochagos who led that force," Heron said, eyes fixed on the ground. "Stubborn as a ram. I'm sure he would've clung to life until the bitter end. He wouldn't have gone quietly."
"You think it's him?" I asked.
"No. He's dead. Whatever remains it's no longer him," Heron replied firmly. Though many of the restless kept their former appearance, their memories were warped. Only fragments of who they once were lingered. Death is death. "They're trying to lure us into a trap."
"Are we going in?" I asked.
"Of course. But first, we prepare. We'll set our own trap. Find an open space, lay down wood, draw the dead in… and burn them," Heron said.
"And who's going to be the bait?" I asked and froze the moment I saw him smirk. That smile was all too familiar, and I didn't like it one bit.
Will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?