Themistonoe cautiously approached the covered shapes, her legs shaky. Every breath stirred up dust, creating swirling shapes in the lamplight.
With trembling hands, she lifted a corner of the nearest cover and paused, gathering her strength for what was underneath. She slowly moved the fabric aside, and a cloud of dust erupted, causing her to cough.
As the dust settled, vague forms became visible in the dirty lamplight. Tall stacks of precarious amphorae and blurry statues stood like silent guards over this burial ground of artefacts.
Themistonoe carefully examined the topmost vessels, hoping to find meaning amidst their covering. The first few revealed patterns worn away by time.
Her breath caught as one amphora caught the light, shining brighter than the others. With great care, she brushed away layers of dirt to reveal a smoother clay shape underneath. But it was the faded letters on the base that captured her full attention.
Leaning in closer, Themistonoe strained her senses to decipher the hidden inscription. Each flickering light revealed a new character. Was this a name? A date? She concentrated intensely, furrowing her brows.
Her heart pounded as she ignored the dust on her body, driven by each new revelation. Letter by letter, a name emerged, suggesting the unlocking of hidden mysteries.
Echephron.
When the full inscription was revealed, Themistonoe gasped in understanding. Before her lay the key to unravelling the greatest secrets of the secret chamber.
After a lifetime of searching through countless artefacts, destiny had brought her to the answer: a single, delicate amphora bearing the name Echephron.
Now filled with renewed purpose, Themistonoe examined the amphora for clues. Near the bottom, she noticed a small crack, barely visible in the dim light.
Themistonoe ran her fingers along it, feeling peculiar marks. Her heart raced as she carefully opened the crack.
A scraping noise came from within, like the shifting of ancient bones. Peering inside, she noticed a gleam—the unmistakable yellowed colour of parchment that had been hidden away for ages.
"No," she whispered, filled with awe and disbelief.
Collecting herself, Themistonoe reached two fingers into the narrow opening and pulled. Slowly, a tightly rolled scroll emerged, just as old as the clay vessel that had protected it for centuries.
When the scroll was completely pulled out, she could hardly contain her excitement. Finally, she could unfold this ancient document and read the writings left behind, perhaps on purpose, by its original owner.
Finally, she would uncover a piece of the soul she had been searching for—Echephron, speaking to her over time with these treasured, yellowed pages stored within a simple clay urn.
Themistonoe took a deep breath to calm her nerves and steady her fast heartbeat. She was about to discover revelations beyond imagination. With great care, she ran her old fingers beneath the ribbon, holding onto a record of lives long gone, waiting for their stories to be told again.
Holding the lamp carefully, Themistonoe let its warm light illuminate the decaying scroll as she gently unrolled it. The paper felt thin and fragile as if a slight breath could send it back to the depths of eternity.
She held her breath, the lamp casting light on faded columns of writing from the beginning of ancient times. The handwriting belonged to an unknown person, preserving thoughts in this pocket of preserved time, waiting for her alone to uncover the secrets locked away since the early days of civilisation:
"In the 14th year of King Orthagoras,
The moon hangs low and full as I pick up my pen to begin records. I have seen twenty olive harvests in these fertile fields, and it is time for me to preserve our family's history, as my ancestors have done before me.
I am Echephron, son of Timocles, from the famous House of Thespiae. Our lineage goes back to the time of heroes and beyond when the great Thessalonians walked these shores and helped establish our cities. It is both an honour and a duty to write about my days for future generations, just like my father and grandfather did.
This villa has stood on top of the hill since my ancestor, Callimachus, claimed these lands after the departure of the Danaans. For over three centuries, our land has thrived under the rule of kings and democracies alike. Vines full of grapes still climb the terraced hillsides, promising another plentiful harvest in the coming autumn.
Down in the city, torches flicker in the evening, marking the start of celebrations to honour Dionysus. Music and laughter mix in the scented breeze of wine, bringing back memories of my younger days spent wandering those streets.
It's remarkable how quickly the role has changed. Now, I find myself as the head of the family entrusted with the responsibility of governing this territory and continuing our lineage.
Tomorrow marks the beginning of the ploughing season for the upcoming year of growth. As darkness falls, I stand on my balcony and think about all the events that have led me to this moment—struggles and triumphs intertwined like the grapevines. Now, I must ensure their prosperity for future generations.
Thus, I start writing, dipping my pen into black ink while the stars appear, casting a bright light over the fields below. May the gods make sure these words remain for a long time after I die. Here, I begin the history of my family with seriousness. As the saying goes, fate will decide the rest."
Themistonoe carefully unfolded the paper, enjoying each discovery from the distant past. The first pages showed the daily activities of farming life and family: ploughing fields, taking care of the grapevines, family gatherings, and traditions to mark the changing seasons.
Echephron captured it all very accurately, vividly portraying the simple country life under the rule of a forgotten monarchy. However, as Themistonoe read further into the manuscript, she started to notice subtle signs of more significant problems hidden beneath the peaceful scenes.
Trade routes became dangerous as neighbouring powers fought over resources. Bad harvests left the people weak and restless. Worst of all, a mysterious disease affected the olive groves, putting the region's main source of income at risk.
Echephron wrote about nights without sleep, walking on the balconies, praying to gods who seemed indifferent to their pleas. In their growing desperation, they started considering a different path - a revelation that left Themistonoe breathless as she read Echephron's detailed words:
"Today, the scholar Magnus came to our country house looking for comfort during these difficult times. He arrived as the sun was setting, casting shadows on the property. I took him to the upper balcony, where we had wine and bread.
'Challenging times attract those seeking knowledge,' I said, pouring us both full cups.
He solemnly nodded. 'Difficulties are spreading like wildfire, yet rulers remain unaware.' His eyes shimmered in the torchlight. 'They may lack the wisdom to understand the situation fully.'
Intrigued, I leaned forward. 'Don't hold back, traveller. I've listened to the priests, but they haven't found a solution for the disease that's destroying our olive groves.'
Magnus swirled his wine, looking out at the darkening fields. 'There are ancient powers much older than kings and democracies. Forces that shaped the land in times forgotten by most people.'
He spoke in a quiet voice. 'I have been to ancient realms where even the stones reveal secrets. In darkness, they remember ancient rituals created to please the unnamed beings who control the cycle of life through the seasons.'
A shiver ran down my back as Magnus spoke. 'You're talking about forbidden pagan rituals.' 'Once forbidden, yes, but we made cosmic pacts with ancient forces to ensure our prosperity,' Magnus leaned closer. 'The rites weren't abandoned out of piety, but as a means to establish new authority over the old.'
I watched as dying torchlight flickered across his angular face, his words stirring long-forgotten thoughts. 'Do you have any proof that these rituals can lift the curse on our fields?'
Magnus paused, thinking seriously about my determination. 'If you're willing, I can show you hidden passages that lead to secret caves where traces of the past still linger in the musty air. There, petroglyphs offer guidance to those who can understand the symbols correctly.'
His offer tempted both fate and the law. But as each day passed, the lives of our people hung by ever-weakening threads. Honestly, what choice did we have but to embrace the forbidden if it could save us?
I met Magnus' shining eyes. 'I am willing. Show me.'"
As Echephron delved deeper into Magnus' teachings, his writings became filled with newfound excitement. He described being led into dark caverns, where faded carvings hinted at ancient mysteries. Magnus' torch illuminated the rock, revealing strange symbols alongside petroglyphs of horned beings from very old myths.
"The scholar told me to trace the symbols with my finger, feeling sparks of power embedded in the stone," Echephron wrote. "Sounds echoed in the darkness, sounds that weren't from this world whispers from a mysterious source. I started to understand the basic language written on the walls."
Week after week, Echephron secretly met with Magnus, practising rituals to ask unnamed gods for help. He recounted chanting in partly forgotten languages as incense smoke curled, appealing to basic forces through poetry and sacrifice.
"Weird dreams bother me, of horned figures moving through ancient forests," his diary read. "I see visions of creation and decay, of cycles that the human mind wasn't meant to understand. But with each ritual, I get closer to understanding the real nature of things."
Themistonoe read Echephron's words with growing urgency, desperate to understand his downward journey. His writings expressed a growing interest in the mysterious, boldly experimenting between lessons. Then, she came across a passage that stopped her completely:
"First Olympiad, first year.
I saw the start of the 'Olympics' footrace a few weeks ago—an event that the authorities seem eager to welcome. But such small things mean nothing now.
A difficult and complicated situation has arisen at my family's estate recently. My dear parents passed away, and now our land and inheritance will be divided among our relatives. As the oldest brother, Cleomenes was given our ancestral villa, which was carved in marble, as stated in the decree.
I feel a deep sadness and anger within me. Cleomenes wasted no time in taking control of the keys and seals and heartlessly banishing me! He cast me out, his own family, to fend for myself with nothing but the clothes on my back.
Now, my rage and desperation have fueled a stronger determination. Through rituals and the favour of nameless gods, I will reclaim what is rightfully mine, no matter what Fate may say.
Nothing in this world will stop me from restoring our family's fortune, no matter the price. I swear this by the dark and uninviting waters of the Stygian rivers and the merciless vastness of the starry sky!"
"The first Olympiad, the first year." The date matched, and so far, the handwriting also matched, confirming that Echephron was indeed the person who had hidden the wish beneath the Willow of Ishtar.
But how did he regain his inheritance? And, more importantly, how did he come to know the cursed symbols beneath Ishtar's Willow?
Themistonoe read quickly, eager to understand Echephron's journey. Several pages later, she found her answer:
"After performing rituals to seek help, I had some strange dreams last night. I found myself in misty marshes, following a glimmer of silver-green light.
As I approached the willow branches, they began to glow, revealing an incredibly beautiful woman among them. 'I am Ishtar, the goddess of forgotten lands,' she said. 'You are in the Qadisiyya marshes.'
She pointed to the towering willow in front of me. 'This is my sacred tree, known to mortals as the Willow of Ishtar. In the past, offerings placed here could help you in your endeavours.' Intrigued, I asked her to guide me.
'Underneath these branches, there is a collection of lapis lazuli engraved with secret symbols,' Ishtar explained. 'But first, you must perform a ritual. Bury your desires and offerings here, and I will bless your future generations. Reject this, and your family will suffer from curses.'
Her gaze went deep into my soul. 'Once you find them, do not stare at the symbols for too long, and most importantly, do not speak their words aloud. They hold powers that are beyond your control.'
I promised her that I would listen to her every word, desperately clinging to any glimmer of hope. What truths would the willow's roots reveal, and what goals could be accomplished? I needed to find out."
So Echephron found the cursed symbols hidden under the Willow of Ishtar in the Qadisiyya marshes through a ritual. Ishtar herself appeared in his dream to tell him about these cursed symbols.
However, he only learned about the symbols, the Willow of Ishtar, and the Qadisiyya marshes in his dream, without any knowledge of where they actually were. How did he eventually find them?
Themistonoe eagerly read through the night. Once again, she found her answer:
"That image of the marshlands haunts me during my waking hours. For days, I tirelessly searched through scrolls in the Great Library, looking for any trace of Qadisiyya or the Willow's legend. I searched and searched but couldn't find anything until an ancient book provided forgotten knowledge.
Accounts from long ago, when the proud Sumerian city-states ruled these lands, tell stories of a big marshland ruled by the goddess Ishtar. There, in the reeds and mist, she took care of a willow tree with silver leaves, named after her and known for the riches it brought to her loyal followers.
My heart raced as I realised the geography matched my dream—the marshes were in the ruins that mark the birthplaces of civilisation. A parchment map showed me the truth that my memory and reason had hinted at.
I will start my journey tomorrow at sunrise, leaving behind my food and treasures from my previous life of comfort as an offering to Ishtar near her sacred tree. I have written my wishes and plans on paper and put them in a leather bag along with my offerings, which I will bury.
I have no idea what mysteries await me, but I can't shake the feeling that fate is at work. The secrets of the symbols will bring back my rightful place, no matter what I have to do or the agreements I have to make."
Echephron was determined to follow his doomed path. With a feeling of fear, Themistonoe turned the page, filled with both dread and curiosity about what would happen next. Several pages later, she came across Echephron's successful arrival at the marshes:
"My friends, you wouldn't believe the incredible things I have seen! After travelling across windy plains and crumbling ruins for days, I finally arrived at the famous marshlands mentioned in my dream. There, in the swaying reeds and mist, I found a willow tree like no other.
Its bark shone with a magical glow as if touched by starlight. Silver leaves whispered secrets as I approached, drawn in by an irresistible force. Clustered around the twisted roots were offerings just as Ishtar had foretold—artefacts and treasures left by worshippers centuries ago.
With shaking hands, I buried my hopes and sacrifices and began searching through the collection, discovering delicate trinkets as thin as spider silk and pottery fragments adorned with unfamiliar symbols. And then, I came across an old, worn-out pouch nestled in the soil, its colour resembling that of the earth. Looking inside, I saw what I had longed for — glowing with a deep blue light, the legendary lapis lazuli rune stones.
I was overwhelmed with wonder. Could these stones truly have the power to restore my rightful position, as the goddess promised? I longed to decipher their mysterious symbols, but I couldn't forget Ishtar's serious warning.
Prolonged contact or intense focus on the runes could release dangerous forces beyond mortal understanding. She also advised against reading their contents out loud, fearing the dark powers that such an action might summon.
Many questions filled my mind, like the never-ending mists of the marsh. What secrets lie within these bright stones? What incredible powers could they grant if understood? One thought stood out above all others — I must consult Magnus without delay. He, who has guided me through mystical knowledge before, may help unravel the mysteries of these runes.
Once I have spoken with the scholar, a plan will come together. These rune symbols have the potential to challenge what we currently know about the universe and restore my rightful position. Be patient, my friends, and trust that the nameless gods will reward my dedication, just as the runes and Ishtar herself have been sent to aid me in my pursuits. We will learn more in due time."
Themistonoe unrolled the next page slowly, torn between her thirst for knowledge and her worry over the dark secrets that may be revealed.
"When I met Magnus, I found that, as always, he had wise advice to offer. He gave me several gemstones engraved with foreign symbols, claiming they were blessed stones from sacred Mount Edna itself. 'These will guard you against any negative energies you might accidentally unleash with the runes,' he explained.
Magnus shared that these protective charms had been passed down in his family for generations. For them to work effectively, he suggested that I always wear them as a necklace to keep them close. I knew better than to question such a respected expert on the supernatural.
His other suggestion was a cautious compromise — to carefully translate the meanings of the runes onto papyrus, allowing for study without directly touching them. But Magnus added a mysterious twist, instructing me to use chicken's blood as ink and feather quills and then give the charm to my brother.
'Fate will decide everything else,' he said with a mysterious sparkle in his eye. Magnus always gives me profound pieces of secret knowledge to guide my mission, although they are wrapped in mystery. I have learned to trust Magnus' wise advice completely, knowing that it comes from a lifetime of exploring the dark corners of history. This ritual seemed like a small step towards reclaiming my true destiny."
Now, everything made sense for Themistonoe: Echephron was indeed the one who wrote the cursed scroll, originally intending to deceive his brother. The use of chicken blood, as instructed, explained the "red ink" on the scroll.
"Following Magnus' instructions, I prepared for the ritual by taking out the ancient symbols from their leather bag. As predicted, the writing was in an ancient Sumerian language that had been forgotten. Luckily, I had a stolen dictionary from the Great Library that would help me translate it into understandable Greek.
I carefully and precisely copied each symbol onto the prepared papyrus scroll, using chicken blood and feather quills as instructed. With each stroke, I could feel the power of the symbols resonating through the charms around my neck, guiding my mystical code. A strange poem emerged, talking about a place of everlasting wealth and good luck called 'Ki-ur Kakkabu.'
After finishing the transcription, I paused to admire my work. I wondered if I had captured the true meaning of the symbols or if my imperfect translation had disrupted their harmony. Only time would show the effects of this enchantment on my brother. For now, my role was complete—all that remained was to deliver it.
Under the cover of darkness, I gave the rolled-up scroll to a travelling pilgrim, telling them to share the 'luck chant' with Cleomenes the next day. Then, all I could do was wait and watch as my brother's fate and my plans started to unfold, guided by forces that were set in motion long ago."
With her heart racing in her chest, Themistonoe kept reading, fearing yet unable to resist witnessing the consequences of Echephron's chant and the results of his actions unfold...
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