The room was dimly, its air heavy with the scent of oil lamps and old wood. Metis stepped cautiously inside, and Thalia was close behind her. Across the room stood a man, his robes marking him as a servant of Poseidon. His eyes, sharp and piercing, fixed on Metis as she entered.
"You're Metis, the priestess of Athena?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of urgency.
"Yes," she replied, her tone guarded. "And you are?"
"My name is Sophos," he said, inclining his head slightly. "I serve at Poseidon's temple. I've come with a grave matter, one that concerns you."
Metis glanced at Thalia, whose eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What sort of matter?" Metis asked.
Sophos hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, his voice lowering. "I saw a prophecy. An ancient one. It speaks of a priestess of Athena who will bring about the destruction of Athens. I believe that priestess is you."
Metis froze. The words hit her like a physical blow. "Me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What makes you think this prophecy is about me?"
Sophos reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a weathered scroll, its edges frayed and stained with age. "The scroll describes a priestess of unimaginable beauty. Eyes as blue as the ocean. Hair that shines like sunlight. The destruction of Athens is foretold to occur on the festival day of Athena. These descriptions match no one but you."
Metis stared at the scroll, reluctant to take it. "This… this is ridiculous," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "A vague description doesn't mean it's me."
"See for yourself," Sophos said, holding the scroll out to her.
After a moment of hesitation, Metis took the scroll, her hands trembling slightly. The parchment felt brittle in her fingers as she unrolled it. The ink was faded, but the words were just legible: A priestess, radiant as dawn, with eyes of the sea and hair of golden light, will bring the city of Athena to ruin on her festival day.
She read the words again, her breath catching in her throat. "This…" She shook her head. "This could mean anything."
"I've studied every record I could find," Sophos said firmly. "None of the previous priestesses match the description. Only you."
Metis looked up, her eyes blazing. "Why bring this to me? What do you expect me to do with this information?"
"I believe it's my duty to help prevent the destruction of Athens," Sophos said. "If this prophecy truly refers to you, we must find the meaning and stop it."
Metis's heart skipped in her chest. "I don't believe this prophecy is about me," she said, shaking her head. "This is unbelievable."
Sophos leaned forward slightly. "Have you been having nightmares?"
The question hit her like a thunderclap. She took a step back, her expression guarded. "How… how do you know that?"
Sophos's gaze didn't waver. "The gods often send nightmares to those chosen in a prophecy. It's their way of marking them."
Metis felt the blood drain from her face. She turned to Thalia. "I need a moment," she said quietly. "Come with me Thalia."
Outside the room, Metis paced, the scroll still clutched tightly in her hand. Thalia stood nearby, her expression filled with concern.
"My lady, what's going on?" Thalia asked softly.
Metis handed her the scroll. "Sophos thinks this prophecy is about me," she said, her voice trembling. "He even knew I've been having nightmares. How could he know that?"
Thalia scanned the scroll, her brow furrowing. "This is just an old story," she said. "How can he be so sure it's about you? We don't even know if we can trust him."
"That's what worries me," Metis murmured. "What if he's right?"
Before Thalia could respond, Sophos's voice interrupted them. He had followed them outside, his expression earnest but unyielding. "I understand your doubt," he said. "But prophecies are not to be ignored. If you don't trust me, search your own scriptures. Seek the truth for yourself."
Metis turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "And if I do find something?"
"I'll be here," he said. "At this tavern. Waiting."
With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows.
*****************
Later that night, Metis sat alone in the temple's library, surrounded by scrolls and ancient texts. The words blurred together as she scanned page after page, her frustration mounting. Finally, her fingers brushed against a forgotten scroll buried among the others. It was written by a priestess who had died centuries ago.
The scroll was cryptic, its words hinting at a curse but revealing little else. Frustration gnawed at her. Desperate, she decided to turn to an old conjuring spell—a forbidden ritual she had learned during her training but never dared to attempt.
In her ritual chamber, Metis lit a circle of candles and began chanting. The air grew cold, the flames extinguishing one by one. A pale figure appeared—a young priestess with sorrowful eyes.
"Why have you summoned me?" the spirit asked, her voice echoing faintly.
"I need answers," Metis said, her voice trembling. "About the prophecy."
The spirit's expression darkened. "That prophecy is a curse," she said. "It has haunted our order for generations. Each priestess who sought its meaning died before uncovering the truth."
Metis's throat tightened. "Why didn't anyone ask Athena for guidance?"
The spirit laughed bitterly, a sound that sent chills down Metis's spine. "The gods do not answer for their actions. This curse is their will. Only the one named in the prophecy can break it."
With that, the spirit vanished, leaving Metis alone in the darkened chamber. Her heart sank. Could it really be her?
Meanwhile, the next morning, Thalia found Metis pale and exhausted. "What happened?" she asked, concern etched across her face.
"I spoke to a spirit," Metis said quietly. "She confirmed the prophecy is real. It might be about me. I have to find out more."
Thalia hesitated. "Are you sure about this? What if Sophos is manipulating you?"
"I don't know," Metis admitted. "But I can't ignore it. We need to speak to him again."
As dusk fell, Metis and Thalia returned to the tavern. Inside, Sophos sat at a corner table, surrounded by scattered parchments. He looked up as they entered, a faint smile on his lips.
"I knew you'd return," he said, rising to greet them.
Metis sat across from him, her expression resolute. "I need your help," she said.
Sophos nodded. "There's a temple on the outskirts of the village," he said. "It's ancient, older than most records we have. It may hold the answers you're seeking. Let me investigate it first."
Thalia, ever cautious, spoke up. "How will we know when you've found something? My lady can't be seen meeting you."
Sophos thought for a moment. "I'll contact you, Thalia," he said. "We'll meet at the windmill outside the village. Three short whistles, then one long. Thalia, you can arrange for Metis and I, to meet."
Metis glanced at Thalia, who nodded reluctantly. "Fine," Metis said. "But we must be careful."
Sophos's gaze softened. "Don't worry," he said. "I believe you're not the one the prophecy speaks of that will bring the destruction. I'll help you prove it." Sophos, turned and walked away.
As Metis and Thalia left the tavern, Thalia whispered, "He seems genuine… and he keeps looking at you like—"
"Don't start," Metis interrupted, though she couldn't deny the way Sophos's gaze lingered.
That night, as she lay in bed, thoughts of Sophos crept into her mind. Could she trust him? Or was she walking into a trap? Either way,the prophecy, whether true or not, had already begun to consume her.