A strong hum of energy and excitement could be felt. A festive celebration was held once every ten years called KIA in memory of their goddess, who was given the ultimate power and used it to protect and fight for her people in her prime. 

On this day, necromancers were forbidden to use their powers for even the slightest of things. Everything was to be done manually without the consequence of going against it, which was a painful death.

People talked, flirted, kissed, and danced to the Hospiko spilling out from the violoncello, harp, and lyre. The synergies expertly created the tone, and the athletes produced sweet melodies by performing on the aulos.

The KIA was a gathering consisting of loads of food packed at respective places. Ninos were running around, and the teenagers were busy eyeballing one another. Visitors get cornered by the papou, who welcomes them by presenting the person with a strip of cotton called "Hida.”

They treated the visitors with complete kindness, respect, and generosity. They slowly grilled and cooked hog roasts under the midnight moon's light. 

Suddenly, the galloping and whining of horses could be heard, and dust rose from the surface, disrupting the joyous celebration. The chariot of horses (Triga and Quadriga) was driven by the charioteers and swordsmen in armor, who were on the horses while holding their swords high above their heads.

The moon reflected through the swords, and shiny shadows glittered on the ground. Swinging and hitting of swords sounded in the once joyous and serene atmosphere.

“Protect the land of our birth.” Someone shouted in the large crowd. 

The firing of poisonous arrows sent his victims to a slow death. The smell of burning grass huts, slitting throats with the aid of their swords, axes, and other killing weapons. Crises of children and shouts of women who were trying to protect and hide their children could be heard. 
 

Whisper Of The Veil

The evening air was heavy, laden with the mingling scents of rain-soaked earth and urban decay. The dim light of flickering streetlamps cast eerie shadows along the desolate alleyway, creating a sinister atmosphere that sent shivers down her spine. She hadn’t planned to take this route, but urgency guided her steps; her ailing mother awaited her care, and time was a cruel thief. 


“Hey, pretty, where are you going?” The voice cut through the silence like a blade. It was rough, mocking, and unmistakably threatening. She froze momentarily before turning to face them—five men, their postures exuding arrogance and malice. The shortest among them, who seemed to be their leader, stepped forward, a smirk plastered across his face. 


Chained by the Night