By Karisa Stapp
Hendria looked around the corner, waiting for the guards to pass around the temple wall. She took a breath, then counted to ten. She’d executed everything perfectly up to this moment; now all those months of meticulous planning seemed to be paying off. She’d memorized every rotation and path of the guards; allowing her inconspicuous passage into the temple. Only a little further until the vaults.
After that, she’d have to place her faith in the gods.
“Careful, Hendria. Greed is an ugly thing. While glory may be tempting, and freedom alluring, it is not by the shield they should be found.”
Hendria grimaced as her uncle’s words echoed in her mind. She shook her head and rushed forward, advancing deeper into the temple.
“Do not be fooled by Enyo’s hoax. The goddess wishes for destruction; she wishes for the world to fall. What better place to hide a curse than the shield of a man beloved by all?”
Uncle Orin had wished only to help. Hendria knew this, and she’d promised to be careful. And perhaps the shield wasn’t really cursed. Perhaps it was just a tale to dissuade thieves like her. Regardless, Hendria was willing to take the chance. With the shield, she could be the one to throw back the evil rulers holding their land.
Hendria let out a relieved breath when she finally stood before the vault entrance. Beyond these doors, unusable and neglected, laid the prize she sought. The shield of Achilles—something that could be used to inspire and fight, but instead, it laid collecting dust in a forgotten tomb.
She placed her hands on the intricately carved surface of the vault door. It seemed impossible that anyone could’ve created this masterpiece by hand without aid from the gods. Surely, if thieves like Hendria were willing to seek out divine blessings, artists must do the same for their craft.
Hendria took a breath.
It was true—she’d sought her own help from the gods. Hendria sacrificed much to appease Ares, god of war. Now it was time to see if it all that pain was worth it.
She shoved her arms against the door. It would have been impossible to open without an Elder’s key. But with Ares’s blessing, Hendria pushed the door inward with ease. Pleased, she entered the vault, which in itself was an accomplishment no thief had ever held.
The door slowly slid shut behind her as Hendria stood in the ancient hallway. Cobwebs and dust covered the clay pottery shards and old wooden boxes lining the walls, and the distinct smell of decay poisoned the air.
Of course, the torches still burned here, for this was a place with the Touch of the Eternal. The light would never run out, so long as the ancient spell held. Without hesitation, Hendria took one of these torches from the wall and began hurrying down the hall.
Be careful Hendria. Do not lose yourself in a helpless chase. The curse will bring you in; the curse will change you.
No! Hendria would not let the words in. The shield was close. It was hers to take. She would be the one to free the land. She would be the one to take the glory.
Thoughts of cheering civilians, liberated and free, propelled her through the darkness. Her only world was the circle of light her torch emitted, and this seemed even smaller as all other lights faded as she traveled deeper into the ancient vault—paths only ever traversed by the Elders.
Her skin crawled. There was no one in here, so why did it feel as though she stood in the presence of many others? It was almost as if the vaults themselves were alive.
Unless it was the shield. Hendria felt herself grow uneasy. Something was off. Something wasn’t right…
But she pushed the thoughts away. This was her prize to take; she could feel the shield calling out to her, rejoicing in her soon-to-be victory.
The bright red door was like a beacon against the torchlight. Strangely, it was unmarred by the aging of the vaults. This was it.
Another prayer to Ares and Hendria shoved the door open easily. She smiled in relief. That smile quickly turned to one of awe when she saw what laid before her.
The shield of Achilles.
Every little design carved on its surface boasted details of unfathomable magnitude. Small warriors danced in circles around horses decked for battle, painted in vibrant colors of silver and gold. Centaurs and creatures unrecognizable to Hendria added to the supernatural intrigue of the shield, luring her in with its enigmatic marvel.
Hendria tried again to silence the cautionary voices in her head as her shaking arms reached toward the shield.
As soon as she touched it, she felt as though she stood in the shoes of Achilles himself. She could feel his legendary strength and courage; she could feel…
Evil.
Leave it! A part of her recoiled at feeling darkness in the shield. Greed and a thirst for blood and glory sought to take her mind—this was a weapon of condemnation.
But it was also the answer to the turmoil that plagued their nation. Untapped power pulsated within the shield. Dark power… but with it, Hendria would be the one to end the suffering. Her name would be known throughout the world. Hendria, the savior. Redeemer.
What a shame for this power to have not been used sooner.
She was no longer captive to the foreboding nature of the vaults. She was in control; she was invincible. Unstoppable. Hendria smiled mirthlessly as she grasped the shield.
Far in the heavens, Ares and the goddess Enyo rejoiced in her success. The gods of war and ruin knew their time was close. They wished for desolation; they wished for the world to fall.
Through Hendria, they would see it thus.
Enyo’s curse had only just begun.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I liked the inner struggle she went through! Great depiction of that age old battßñ
Yikes! I enjoyed this intriguing story.
Oh wow! Loved the part at the end where we see a glimpse of the gods rooting for her.
Oh, wow, this is a great. Not so good for humanity, it seems, but the story is fantastic!