"She has just crossed the Aegean with the promise that she is free, and the unrelenting truth of her beauty's breath even more free. Thoughts of the coming war instantly foil her efforts to retrieve the last known trace of her soul's blissful music. She goes to stand by the window and remains rigidly still, as though gripped by the cold starry silence that for a moment reminds her of Menelaus. The glimmering dots of moonlight of the Aegean sea briefly appear to her as forming a blade made fully tangible by the mere thought of Menelaus following her to Troy. The wind retreats and she feels the dawn slowly emerging from beneath the slowly-shifting veil of the lower sky. Helen rejoices in this muted comfort, however fleeting it may be. She feels a presence now. She slides across the dim patch of moonlight and slips beneath the silken sheets. She hears footsteps in the dark. The strong breeze blew out every remaining candle, and she has no way of seeing who is there apart from the spare moonlight. She waits for whoever is there to make his presence fully known, to erase her fear that Menelaus has streaked across the ancient sea like lightning to bring her back home. Helen hears the night's whispering again. She feels the need to go stand by the window and regain a calm reassurance. But then she hears the sound of a footstep. This time, the sound is sharper and sends shivers through her. A part of her feels that it might be Paris moving in the dark in order to surprise her. She hears the large, heaving mass of the ocean current dispersing in the dark horizon. The wind whispers more loudly, and then she feels that the presence is about to reveal itself. She shuts her eyes and envisions what might become of her, of the untarnished beauty of her life's remaining summers. She sees a painting of her as well as a sculpture depicting her. Helen sees myriad Helens live and breathe across the endless folds of history's undulating tapestry. Then she pulls away the sheets to see who is there. Her dread descends into obscurity, but then she sees many Helens in a jostling crowd of beauties, each becoming superimposed upon the other as they vie for supremacy. The breeze blows through the room, and the various Helens are gone. She rises and stands by the window again. She feels another presence once more. She looks into the darkness and sees eyes glowing brightly. They are her own. The eyes burn through the darkness. For a moment, she feels as though she is glimpsing her future self. She sees the summers after the war expanding before her. The bright blue sea sweeps over her senses, making her heart pulsate gently. Then the image of the sea fades away. Everything in her blissful silence and private space was as before, unencumbered. Helen feels that the whispering night played a trick on her. She sees the way the moonlight forms a path across the Aegean. The breeze blows softly on her eyelids, and her inner world trembles." A young woman is mesmerized by the life of Helen of Troy. She believes that her destiny is to find out how Helen achieved immortality, and how storytelling is about the past becoming entwined with the future.