Chapter 3: Hunger and Temptation

The smell of salt filled Odysseus' lungs as he stood at the prow, staring at the endless stretch of blue. The sea had been kind, the winds steady, yet his stomach twisted with unease. Hunger gnawed at his men, and when hunger came, so did desperation.

Behind him, Polities approached, his steps slow with exhaustion. His voice was low. "We have nothing left."

Odysseus didn't turn. He already knew. He had seen the way the men moved—sluggish, their faces hollow, eyes darting toward the empty ration crates as if food would miraculously appear.

"How long can they last?" he asked.

Polities hesitated. "A few more days. Maybe."

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the waves slapping against the ship's hull.

Polities sighed. "Ten years of war, and still, we fight to stay alive. I wonder if we'll ever stop."

Odysseus' grip tightened on the wood. "We'll stop when we reach Ithaca."

"And when we do?" Polities pressed. "What then? Will we ever be men again, or just warriors waiting for the next battle?"

Odysseus turned to him, expression unreadable. "We do what we must."

Polities searched his face. "And what if there's more than survival? What if there's kindness?"

Odysseus frowned. "Kindness didn't win us the war."

"No," Polities agreed. "But it will help you rule."

Odysseus exhaled sharply. "You think I've forgotten how to welcome strangers? How to trust?"

"I think war hardens men," Polities said quietly. "And some never soften again. Don't let that be you."

A shout from above cut the conversation short.

"Land!"

Odysseus' head snapped up. The watchman pointed eastward, and there, barely visible through the haze, an island rose from the horizon. Dark cliffs, dense trees. A chance.

Polities exhaled, watching it approach. "The gods have given us mercy."

Odysseus wasn't sure.

The moment they stepped ashore, the smell hit them first—sweet, rich, almost intoxicating. The sand was soft beneath their boots, the air thick with something Odysseus couldn't quite name.

Polities rubbed his stomach. "Something's here. Something fresh."

Odysseus scanned the treeline. Too still. Too perfect. "Stay close," he muttered.

They pushed forward, weaving through thick green brush. The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt. Then, in a clearing, figures appeared—men and women draped in flowing robes, their eyes half-lidded, their smiles too soft, too easy.

Polities stiffened beside him. "Gods above…"

One of them, a woman with dark curls and bare feet, stepped forward. Her voice was smooth as water. "You look weary, travelers. Come. Eat. Be at peace."

A scent drifted toward them—fragrant, warm, like honey and ripe fruit. Odysseus' fingers twitched at his side.

"We need food," Polities admitted, eyeing the golden fruit in their hands.

"And food you shall have." The woman gestured toward the trees, their branches heavy with pale, glistening fruit. "Eat, and your hunger will be forgotten."

Odysseus stepped forward. "Where do you get your food?"

She tilted her head. "The island provides. But if you seek more, there are two caves beyond the trees. There, you will find what you desire."

Polities glanced at Odysseus. "They offer kindness."

Odysseus' jaw clenched. "Or a trap."

Polities' words from earlier echoed in his mind. Don't let war make you cruel.

The woman extended her hand, a lotus resting in her palm. "Eat. You have suffered enough."

Odysseus hesitated.

Something was wrong.

And the gods were never this kind.

The pale fruit glistened in the woman's hand, its scent thick and heavy in the air. Polities shifted beside Odysseus, his hunger barely concealed. The men behind them stirred, their tired eyes locked on the golden fruit hanging from the trees.

Odysseus clenched his jaw. "No one eats anything until I say."

The woman smiled, unbothered. "Why resist what is given freely?"

Odysseus studied her, noting the way her voice curled like silk, the way her eyes carried no worry, no fear. He had seen men stare like that before—after a battle, when the fight had left them, when there was nothing left to lose.

Polities exhaled. "Odysseus, we need food. They've offered it, and we should take it."

Odysseus didn't answer right away. His gut churned. This was too easy.

"Tell me about the caves," he said instead. "What's inside?"

The woman's head tilted. "All you seek."

A strange answer. Odysseus didn't like strange answers.

"Show us."

The woman only smiled again and gestured toward the trees. "Follow the path."

Odysseus turned to Polities. "Take half the men and come with me. The rest stay here. No one touches the fruit."

Eurylochus stepped forward, arms crossed. "And if you don't return?"

Odysseus met his gaze. "Then you burn this island to the ground."

Eurylochus didn't blink. "You're certain?"

"This place isn't right," Odysseus said, lowering his voice. "I can feel it. If we don't return, don't wait. Burn it, and get the men back on the ships."

Eurylochus studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "May the gods guide you."

Odysseus turned away, leading his group into the trees.

Behind him, Eurylochus watched them disappear, his fingers tightening around his sword.