No Prayer Could Save Me Now

TW: S*xual Assault

Ash. Smoke. Soot, flaking my scalp. 

The repulsive stench of blood and lifeless bone suffocated me. I couldn’t breathe. Why was I so surprised? I knew this day was bound to come. 

My city, my beautiful, magnificent Troy, was, as prophesied, reduced to ruin. I watched as the great fortresses burned, brick by brick, until I could only make out a skeleton of what my home used to be. 

Home. Father, Brother. Helenus. Helenus. Where was he? Did the fire consume him, too? Did they take him away the same way they did with Father? 

Yet I couldn’t feel anything at the moment; everything was looted and stolen from me, all at once. I was numb with grief and anguish. But most of all, impassioned by my helplessness. The power you could call a gift, but for me, the worst torture any god would bequeath on any mortal. What more could a priestess ever want? With the power to see into the future and prevent the most disastrous of disasters, her life is as cosy as a queen's. But what if I told you this wasn’t my story, that I wasn’t the queen, nor the peasant, and instead I was the madwoman with the ludicrous… ramblings? 

My strength was my greatest weakness, and will continue to be. This wasn’t always the case. I was Cassandra, born into the royal family of King Priam and Queen Hecuba, my birthright was ingrained into the soil of Troy as the next greatest priestess. Helenus and I sought our sanctuary in temples, where we often rested and worshipped the Gods. From our birth, the Gods were our everything; we did not find it uncommon to sleep and intentionally dream of them. And one faithful night, the sacred snakes of Sight slithered into our heads, whispering the secrets of the impending until our ears rang with the unseen truth. Our parents celebrated, announcing that the Gods had acknowledged our birthright and guaranteed the pride of Troy. 

“Looks like we’ve got something here.” 

I spun back to see two Achaean soldiers clawing through the rubble behind which I had concealed myself. No, no, no, I can’t be discovered, I can’t let these malevolent beasts have me.

I crept up the marble steps to the temple, making sure even the silent melody of my anklets kept mum. If there were anyone else whom I could entrust my safety to now, it could only be the Gods. Those years of worship shall prove me true. 

Inching towards the naos, I flinched at the golden glint emanating from the statue of Athena, standing tall and majestic, despite witnessing the gruesome destruction of lives and liberty outside. How so lifeless and cold her eyes seemed, as if her citizens were the least of her worries. Armour plated over every spec of her brilliant ivory skin, the spear in her hand, and the shield kept at the ready, bore nothing but humiliation for the Trojans today. Even Nike couldn’t spare her ironic presence. 

Today, I fulfilled my final duties as priestess when I succumbed to bowing down yet again, now unashamedly begging Athena for mercy. I knelt against the frigid marble floor, touching her feet as my eyes watered an arduous hurricane of tears. 

I wished to surrender the remaining shreds of my dignity to the Goddess of wisdom and warcraft. 

Athēnā, sophē theá, 

tēn axioprepeían mou soi paratíthēmi. 

en tais skinais tēs ptōseōs Troías, 

phýlaxon— 

THRUMPH! 

I couldn’t fathom what was happening. I could only remember seeing Athena’s feet flung out of my vision, and the sky suddenly tumbling towards me. Something cold and wet seeping through my scalp, something rough and fleshy combing through my hair. I couldn’t judge whether it was agonising or numbing. 

Was I being dragged, or was the statue being repelled away from me? Did Athena shun my last request, or did the fleshy palm kill me? 

I screamed, but no voice could be heard. I flailed, but my muscles resigned. I let the arm, fist-deep in my hair, lug me down the temple steps, the once-white marble stained with a harrowing crimson trail. 

The arm tossed me over its shoulder like some sickly earned prize, ruthlessly reaching over to tear off my modesty. 

My senses finally returned, and I could feel the sadistic laughter drill into my ears. My final thoughts did not resonate with those of family, Troy, or even the Gods.

They rung of you, Apollo. 

Because no prayer could save me now.

-Saie Sasankar