Chapter 156: Kassandra of Troy

" Hector." Aeneas returned the smile before looking at Priam. "Your Majesty. All mercenaries who have answered our calls of support have arrived. They are waiting for us in the courtyard."

Priam's weathered features softened slightly as he gave a small nod. "Good," he said in a measured tone. "Hector, welcome them appropriately." The weight of the impending war bore down on the king's shoulders, and though he maintained a composed facade, he knew all too well the dire reality they faced.

The storm of war brewing on the horizon was not an ordinary conflict; this was a battle in which the greatest heroes of Greece would fight—Achilles, Heracles, and others of legendary prowess. These were men with divine blood and unmatched skill in battle. Troy was at a severe disadvantage, and Priam understood the gravity of it.

That is why he had sent messengers to every corner of the known world, summoning the most skilled and renowned mercenaries to their cause. It had been a desperate move, one born of necessity, for few would willingly fight for a distant kingdom like Troy, especially with the looming threat of such formidable opponents. Yet, whatever reinforcements they could gather would be crucial.

Even a few more swords could tip the scales, however slightly, in their favor.

"Yes, Father," Hector replied with a resolute nod. Without hesitation, he turned and strode purposefully toward the exit, his tall, armored figure cutting a path through the room like a pillar of unshakable strength.

As Hector left, Paris hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Helen. "Helen," he called softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. But Helen, her expression unreadable, offered no response. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away, the weight of guilt heavy on her slender shoulders.

No matter what they said—no matter how they tried to comfort or absolve her—the burden of responsibility would never leave her. It clung to her, relentless and suffocating. She knew that when the war began and the blood of soldiers stained the ground of Troy, the guilt would only deepen, seeping further into her soul like a poison.

Every life lost, every sword raised in her name, would be another reminder of her part in this tragedy.

As the hall emptied and only the king and queen remained, the silence became almost unbearable. Priam sat quietly on his throne, his thoughts dark and brooding. Hecuba stood beside him, her posture rigid, but before either could speak, a shadow stirred from the far corner of the chamber. A figure emerged from the darkness—a woman whose presence seemed both otherworldly and tragic.

She was strikingly beautiful, her long red hair cascading down her back like flames, her deep crimson eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and something far more ancient. This was Kassandra, Hector's younger sister.

Since the day of Paris's birth, Kassandra had pleaded with their family to send him away—away from Troy, away from the city she had seen doomed in her prophetic visions. Apollo himself had blessed her with the gift of foresight, and with it came terrible dreams, visions of Troy's destruction, all linked to the boy who now stood at the heart of their troubles.

Hecuba, ever the steady force beside Priam, stood up, her posture stiff as she stepped toward her daughter. "Kassandra," she began cautiously, her voice softer now, "you've always told us you saw Troy destroyed—turned to ashes." Her eyes searched Kassandra's face for confirmation. "Isn't that what you've always said?"

"Yes, mother!" Kassandra replied, the sudden intensity in her voice betraying her fear. "I saw it. I truly saw it. Years ago, it was clear—the fall of Troy, its destruction—it was all there. But..." her voice wavered, and she faltered as if unsure of how to continue. She paused, collecting herself before speaking again, more quietly this time.

"But nine months ago... the dreams stopped."

"Stopped?" Priam's voice was low, now tinged with a deeper concern.

Kassandra nodded, her hands clenching into fists as she struggled to find the right words. "Yes... they stopped completely. For years, I saw everything. The fires, the walls crumbling, the city in ruins. But now... now I don't dream of Troy anymore. I don't see what's to come.

I don't see anything at all." Her voice grew fainter with every word, as though the weight of not knowing crushed her.

Hecuba stepped forward, her hand reaching out to Kassandra. "What does that mean? Why did it stop?" She asked softly.

Kassandra's voice trembled as she answered, "I don't know, Mother. I don't know why. It just stopped. It's like the future has become... a void. I can't see what will happen anymore. And it terrifies me." Her eyes, wide and glassy with fear, looked to her parents for answers they could not give.

Hecuba, seeing the vulnerability in her daughter's usually strong gaze, pulled Kassandra into a gentle embrace. "It's okay, Kassandra," she whispered, her voice as soothing as the soft touch of her hands. "Perhaps this is a good thing. If the dreams have stopped, maybe it means we have a chance—maybe the gods have changed their course."

Kassandra buried her face in her mother's shoulder, her arms trembling slightly as she tried to comprehend what was happening. "I... I don't know..." she mumbled, her voice muffled. "What if it's worse? What if the silence means something even more terrible is coming?" The uncertainty was gnawing at her, making her feel more lost than she had ever been.

Priam, watching them both, felt an unease settle in his chest. The idea of Kassandra no longer being able to see the future, no longer having even the faintest thread of foresight, was unsettling. "Perhaps," he said slowly, as if thinking aloud, "the gods have shrouded the future in darkness for reasons we cannot yet understand. But we mustn't lose hope."

Kassandra pulled back from her mother's embrace, her red eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "But why?" she asked, almost pleading. "Why nine months ago? Why did it stop so suddenly? I've always had the dreams... but now, I'm blind to what's to come."