The old priestess, known as Melantha, shuffled slowly towards the projection balcony, her veiled face concealing the wisdom etched in the lines of her age. The senators, engrossed in their discussions about rebellion, barely acknowledged her presence.
Melantha's voice, though frail, echoed with an otherworldly resonance. "Beware, wise Rhesus," she began, her words dripping with the weight of prophecy. "A shadow looms over those who challenge the might of Athens. Like a serpent, it strikes swiftly, and the consequences are dire."
Rhesus, initially dismissive, turned to regard the mysterious visitor. "What do you speak of, old woman? We are the Senate of Thrace, and we decide our fate."
The priestess leaned on her walking stick, her eyes piercing through the veil. "Decisions made in defia
