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Blood. Gore. Death.
The room was drenched in the blood of the suitors. Everything was stained in crimson red. The men who had once ruined his life and stolen so much time from him now lay slain. Images of decapitated heads still wearing horrid expressions and trails of guts littered the royal floor.
Telemachus could hear the moans and cries of men near death, begging to be saved or to pass away from the misery. It was a sight he had never witnessed before as an innocent young man.
"Justice weighs heavy, even when it is deserved," the voice of Athena echoed firmly in his mind.
Telemachus shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, breath labored and uneven. He had blood on his hands. No, he was saturated in blood. His once white chiton now decorated with his enemies' essence.
Suddenly, he felt a wet, warm grip wrap around his ankle. Telemachus jumped, startled and turned to see a man with a missing arm slowly worming his way toward him.
"Please! Please!" the man moaned, bone and muscle protruding from his amputated arm.
Telemachus stared at the dying suitor, horrified and suddenly nauseous.
"Kill him. It must be done," Athena’s voice brushed through his mind.
Telemachus’ bloodied hand shook hard around the handle of his sword. He looked down at the pale, deathly man. He had never thought it would come to this. Even when his father devised the plan upon returning, it had only felt real in the moment.
"Prince, please spare me," the man begged, meat swinging from his ruined arm as he tried crawling closer. The suitor's breathing was wheezy and he was close to death from severe blood loss.
"Telemachus," the goddess' voice broke through his thoughts, making his body jolt.
He had killed so many men already and didn’t know if he could stomach one more. Taking a life wasn’t easy for a man who had never done it before. It was one great shock to his system and now he felt paralyzed.
Something odd happened in that moment. The suitor's eyes bulged as streams of blood trickled from them. He began choking, blood spurted from his mouth and pooled on the floor.
"You-monster!" the man gasped and choked as more blood shot from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
Soon, his teeth followed, making Telemachus scream with fear. The suitor shrieked and writhed on the floor, losing more blood.
"Telemachus!" shouted both Athena and the man at the same time, their voices blending in an eerie tone.
TELEMACHUS!
Telemachus jolted awake, drenched in sweat and breathing erratically. His heart slammed and his body shook with fear. His eyes darted around, searching for safety and familiarity. He was in his bedchamber and it was still dark outside. The moon poured into the room, providing soft light and comfort. The prince had a death grip on his sheets as he tried to steady his breathing.
How long would this go on? It had been three weeks and still the nightmares continued. Always the suitors. Always the gory violence. These men had caused him so much misery and suffering so why did it bother him so much to have slaughtered them?
Telemachus swallowed hard and licked his dry lips, running a hand through his matted hair, lost in thought.
Did he really think everything would be forgotten and life would return to a new normal? He had hoped for that, wanted it. Now that it wasn’t happening, he felt confused, tossed into an uncertainty he couldn’t comprehend. It was as if new feelings had arisen and he couldn’t grasp why.
The truth was, life was different now. Everything he had known before had changed. A lot of it was for the better but some of it deepened the insecurities within him.
He had thought that helping to kill over a hundred men would make him a man, that it would prove his worth to his father. Yet all he felt was turmoil and conflict. Telemachus avoided that room as much as possible. Even though it had been purified and cleaned, he swore he could still smell a hint of iron in the air. It made him nauseous and the screams still haunted him. Any sudden movement or loud sound startled him.
He dared not tell anyone especially not his father. He didn’t want to seem weak in front of a man like him. His father was a warrior and watching how he fought still brought chills to Telemachus. In a way, this heightened his insecurity. How could he ever become a man like Odysseus? After witnessing the horrors that violence brings, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.
Telemachus sighed, letting out a heavy breath. At least the palace was quiet now and could roam wherever he pleased. Perhaps he had to focus on the positive aspects of the outcome instead of the consequences.
He grunted, rolling over to try and fall back asleep when he saw a beautiful owl perched on the windowsill, staring at him. He jolted upright, eyes wide.
"Athena!" he whispered.
The owl simply sat there, still and purposeful.
The young prince scurried out of bed and slowly approached the bird.
"I-how long have you been there?" asked Telemachus quickly, his face flushing slightly with embarrassment.
The owl looked up at him and hooted softly, its silver eyes flecked with the color of lapis lazuli.
"For a while now," spoke Athena’s voice telepathically into Telemachus’ mind.
No matter how many times Athena used telepathy, it always felt strange in Telemachus’ mind like a feather lightly brushing his brain.
Telemachus looked away, suddenly feeling vulnerable and shy. Athena must have sensed it as she hooted once more.
"Justice weighs heavy, even when it is deserved. You are not wrong to grieve what had to be done."
The young man’s stomach dropped hard. He gasped in shock. How did she know about his dream? Over time, Telemachus had learned it was best not to question the ways and mysteries of the goddess of wisdom. He always ended up with more questions than answers.
A sudden wave of emotion surged through his core. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the prickling sensation of tears. Why was this happening? He didn’t want to cry in front of Athena. Telemachus quickly turned his head, pretending to gaze at something across the room.
Another soft hoot came from the divine owl as it clicked its beak gently.
"Telemachus, look at me," Athena said gently.
The way she spoke his name gave him chills. It was comforting, yet authoritative. He quickly wiped away a single tear that had escaped the corner of his eye, then turned slowly toward the goddess in owl form.
"I know what happened haunts you. You were given a task you weren’t emotionally prepared for. It is okay to grieve the loss of your innocence."
The words did little to ease him. His throat tightened with emotion. He tried to swallow down what was bubbling up from his chest, as if he could stop the inevitable tears. His heart thudded in his chest as he stared into the owl’s all knowing eyes.
"I don’t want to feel this way," he whispered, his voice barely steady.
The owl hopped closer, ruffling its feathers slightly. Telemachus walked over to the windowsill, gripping it with hands forever stained by the memories of that night. He inhaled the cool night air, trying to anchor himself beside Athena.
"I thought becoming a warrior like my father would feel empowering. But all I feel is emptiness and disappointment."
The owl hooted softly, understanding in its gaze. It studied his expressions carefully.
"Having power does not erase compassion, Telemachus. Your pain is a sign that you value life no matter what kind of men the suitors were. It does not make you weak. It makes you human."
Telemachus squeezed the windowsill tighter as a soft sob broke free. The sound startled him, raw and unfiltered. Athena’s voice came more softly now.
"To carry the weight of life and death is the burden of a ruler. You have seen what men are capable of when driven by greed. You must choose what kind of man you will become. Not one without feeling but one who learns to act with wisdom."
He drew a shaky breath, tears staining his flushed cheeks. "But how do I live with it?"
"By remembering it. By honoring the life that beats within your chest. You are no longer a boy but a man who must learn to live fully despite the shadows that cling to him."
Telemachus closed his eyes, the words sinking into the wounds of his heart. Another sob escaped his lips, this time not resisted. The owl did not break the silence. It only watched patiently as the prince wept softly in the moonlight.
"I feel like there is blood on me that won’t come off," he shuddered in between labored breaths. "Even when I bathe or put on new clothes... it’s still there."
"It is not the blood that clings," replied Athena gently. "It is the memory, the weight of what you have done. That weight will shape you, if you let it."
When the last tears slowed, Telemachus drew a shaky breath. The weight remained, but it was shared now and no longer suffocating him alone.
"You have begun your path, Telemachus," Athena’s voice was reassuring. "Not to become your father but yourself. To become a man who knows the price of life and leads with wisdom because of it."
The prince looked up at the wise owl, his eyes red but focused. He swallowed, voice steadier.
"I’m afraid of what I have done and of what is to come," he admitted.
"Good," replied the goddess simply. "Fear will keep you human. But courage will guide your steps beyond it."
For the first time in three weeks, a faint ember of warmth flickered in Telemachus’ chest, uncertain but real. He nodded slowly.
"I will try," he whispered.
Athena fixed him with those silvery, wondrous eyes. When she spoke again, her voice held genuine kindness.
"We’ll be fine. I'm there for you whenever. We'll start from somewhere better. Don’t you cry."
The owl hooted softly. With a flutter of its wings, it took flight into the night.
Telemachus smiled weakly and waved, the cool, crisp air soothing against his tear warmed skin.
He stood there for a long moment, letting the quiet settle around him. His hands still shook and his heart still ached but as he looked toward the stars, the prince of Ithaca took his first true breath of peace.