The horse and the infant
…
Teto crouched in the suffocating darkness, the wooden walls of the Trojan horse creaking with every subtle shift. Her breath was shallow, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. Around her, soldiers shifted anxiously, their armor clinking quietly. The stifling air was thick with the smell of sweat, iron, and wood. Every second felt like an eternity as they waited for the moment to strike.
"Alright, my brothers, listen closely," Teto began, her voice a fierce whisper that cut through the tense air. The soldiers held their breaths, hanging onto her every word. "Tonight, we make the Trojans pay. Ten years of war—they’ve killed us slowly. But now... now we'll be the ones who slay!"
Her words burned with intensity, igniting a spark in the hearts of her comrades. Teto’s gaze swept over them, seeing their determination flicker to life in the dim confines of the wooden construct.
"Think of your wives and your children!" she urged. "Your families wonder where you’ve been—years slipping by as they grow older without you. But do what I say, and you *will* see them again. This is our moment. Our final stand!"
The soldiers exchanged looks, grim nods passing between them. They were ready.
"Diomedes will lead the charge. Agamemnon, flank the guards. Menelaus will get our mates through the gates and take the whole city at large. Teucer, shoot down any ambush attacks. Little Ajax—hold the rear line. Nestor, you’re securing Helen—keep her safe. And Neo..." Her gaze hardened. "Avenge your father. Kill the brothers of Hector."
Her voice softened, yet carried more weight. "Find that inner strength. Use that pride deep inside. Fight through every pain. Ask yourself—*What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?*"
The air was charged with resolve. Then, raising her voice, Teto sang with fierce conviction.
"Mikulope!"
The name echoed off the wooden walls, the soldiers responding in unison:
"Mikulope!"
"And Nerumachus!" Teto called.
"I fight for us!" she sang, voice raw with passion. "I fight for us! Mikulope! Neru~! I’m on my way... ATTACK!"
Wood splintered and daylight flooded the darkness as the Trojan horse’s belly opened. Teto leaped out first, leading the charge as chaos exploded around her. Blades clashed. Cries of war filled the air. Her heart roared in her chest, adrenaline driving her forward—until a sudden flash of light seared across her vision. Pain lanced through her side. She staggered, sword raised, scanning for her attacker—
But there was no one.
"Who was that?" she gasped, wincing.
Then, shimmering light gathered before her. Kaai Yuki, radiant as Zeus, emerged with ethereal grace. Her eyes were knowing, voice melodic and haunting:
"A vision... of what is to come. Cannot be outrun... can only be dealt with right here and now."
Teto’s chest heaved. "Tell me how," she demanded.
Yuki’s gaze softened but remained firm. "I don’t think you’re ready. A mission... to kill someone’s son. A foe who won’t run. Unlike anyone you have faced before."
Teto clenched her fists. "Say no more. I *know* that I’m ready."
Yuki’s voice echoed once more, lingering: "I don’t think you’re ready..."
Teto’s footsteps echoed in a quiet chamber, distant from the battlefield’s clamor. The air was thick with smoke and the faint scent of burning wood. Her armor clinked with each hesitant step, her sword raised. Her eyes locked onto a cradle nestled in the room’s corner. Time seemed to slow as she approached.
Inside the cradle—an infant. Peaceful. Breathing softly. Innocent.
Teto’s hand trembled. Her voice broke into a fragile song.
"It’s just an infant... just a boy... What sort of imminent threat does he pose, that I cannot avoid?"
Kaai Yuki’s voice drifted in, smooth.
"This is the son of none other than Troy’s very own Prince Hector. Know that he will grow... from a boy to an avenger. One fueled with rage, as you are consumed by age. If you don’t end him now... you’ll have no one left to save."
Teto’s heart twisted. Her mind raced with visions of Miku... Neru... home. Her hand hovered above the infant, torn between duty and mercy.
Yuki’s voice pressed like a weight on her soul "You can say goodbye to Miku."
“You can say goodbye to Miku….”
Teto’s breath hitched. "I... I could raise him as my own," she murmured, desperation creeping into her tone.
"He will burn your house and throne!" Yuki shot back.
"Or send him far away from home!" Teto’s voice rose, pleading.
"He’ll find you wherever you go," Yuki replied with unwavering certainty.
"Make sure his past is never known!" Teto cried, voice cracking.
"The gods will make him know," Yuki said with finality.
Tears blurred Teto’s vision. Her knees gave out as she sank to the floor. "I’d rather bleed for ya!" she yelled.
"He’s bringing you—" Yuki began.
"Down on my knees for ya!" Teto’s sobs echoed off the walls. "I’m begging please!"
Yuki’s gaze softened, but her words remained resolute. "Oh, this is the will of the gods."
"Please don’t make me do this... don’t make me do this..." Teto whispered, voice breaking. Her hand shook violently above the cradle, torn between heart and command.
Yuki knelt beside her, voice like a dagger cloaked in silk. "The blood on your hands... it’s something you won’t lose. All you can choose... is whose."
And in that suffocating silence, Teto’s world crumbled beneath the weight of an impossible fate.
…