
โ๏ธACT ONEโ๏ธ
โฆ โโโโโโโ เผบเผป โโโโโโโ โฆ
โ๏ฝกยฐโฉโห เฉโฉโงโ Before the story begins. โ๏ฝกยฐโฉโห เฉโฉโงโ
There are no songs for the forgotten.
โงเผเผเผหโกเผเผเผโง
No verses stitched in golden thread for the ones who serve instead of rule. No poems passed down for the trembling child standing in the shadow of a blade, waiting to be claimedโor discarded.
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But there should be.
There should be an entire epic sung for girls who are stolen in the night, for daughters unseen in their own homes, for bloodlines broken by conquest and named novelty by men with too many rings.
This is their story too.
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โฆ โโโ เผบเผป โโโ โฆ
Before the war drums echoed through Troy...
Before ships touched shorelines in the name of vengeance...
Before Achilles carved his name into legend amongst Kings...
โงโโญห๏ฝกโเผ
There were two girls.
One born of marble and pressure, whose spine never broke even many tried.
The other torn from defiance and fire, a living remnant of what a Kingdom tried to erase.
Penelope.
And you.
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This story does not begin with glory.
It begins in silence.
In the cold stone hall of a father who never wanted her.
In the muted still breath of a child barely alive.
โฆโ เฟ เฟ*:๏ฝฅ๏พโง
This is not just the tale of heroes and monsters.
It is the memory of what came beforeโthe blood, the breath, the choice.
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Before the crown.
Before the suitors.
Before the Gods dared look down and name her useful.
There was only silence....and the shape of it carved into two girls.
โฆ โโโโโโโ เผบเผป โโโโโโโ โฆ