To the Muse I Never Got

INT. TEMPLE RUINS – DAY

[WIDE SHOT] A lone ATHENA STATUE stands amidst a ruined temple. Tyndall light cuts through the dust, spotlighting her. She looks less like a goddess, more like someone’s long-lost love. Beautiful, serene.

Wind kicks up sand, blowing it toward the camera.

[CAMERA ANGLE: BOTTOM-UP SHOT]

EIRA enters. Cloaked. No crown. Just a cape.

She said no words. A few people follow like subjects behind a queen.

A CROWD has formed in the middle of the ruins.

EIRA

(cold, tense)

Excuse me.

[CAMERA PANS] A body lies motionless, still gripping a stone.

Beside it: a half-finished statue, its top shattered.

GUARD

(softly)

You shouldn’t be here, Art God.

EIRA

Just an old friend.

The guard freezes. Another whispers:

WHISPERER

That’s her. The one who beat the last Art God.

They step back. Eira’s gaze is ice.

They all assume she’s come to gloat. To claim.

They fear her. That’s what an Art God looks like.

Not mortal. Not anymore.

FLASHBACK – NIGHT

EIRA, whispering a wish to the stars.

EIRA (V.O.)

Grant me wisdom. Let me be admirable, epic—

Like a goddess. I’ll trade anything. Even being understood.

The next morning: a pendant on her doorstep. She takes it as a sign.

FLASHBACK – INT. ROYAL ART GALLERY – DAY

A packed crowd. Eyes on the throne.

EIRA enters, barely noticed. She’s watching him——ASHER.

Young. Talented. A favorite of the King. Creator of the ATHENA STATUE：Completed in five years and broke the record.

Most die trying, or fail and fade into obscurity, but he did it.

No one knows how he did it. Some say he’s immortal.

SIDE NARRATOR (V.O.)

Maybe it’s just strength. Or obsession.

Or maybe his face looks god made, it explains it all.

Eira tenses. He’s not much older than her.

He turns. They lock eyes. He smiles. Not like a rival. Just a friendly challenger.

CAMERA CLOSE-UP ON HER TOOLS:

Scrolls. A pen. She’s a poet, not a sculptor.

Around her neck: a pendant.

BACK TO PRESENT – TEMPLE RUINS

EIRA looks different now. She is cool, untouchable.

[WIDE SHOT] The crowd backs away.

COMMANDER

Clear the site. Let the Art God decide.

EIRA

What? I was just visiting.

Philosir! What happened?

PHLOSIR, the Art Circle’s overseer, steps forward.

PHLOSIR

The one who beats the Art God earns the right

to determine the loser’s fate.

EIRA

No one told me that.

Eira stands motionless. The ruins echo silence.

Philosir steps beside her, voice low but firm.

PHILOSIR

325 days ago.

That was the last time you saw him... wasn’t it?

Eira doesn't respond. Her eyes flicker. Not with sadness, but with memory.

FLASHBACK — EXT. PALACE COURTYARD — NIGHT

Eira turns away from Asher. Doesn’t look back.

EIRA (V.O.)

The day I pretended I didn’t care.

The day I turned, instead of stayed.

BACK TO SCENE — INT. TEMPLE

Philosir watches her, cautious.

PHILOSIR

For someone who *was* an Art God...

Losing is worse than exile.

He pauses, letting the weight of that settle.

PHILOSIR (CONT’D)

The king loses trust. The court forgets your name.

There's no path back.

Eira’s expression stays unreadable. But her fists tighten just enough for the camera to catch.

EIRA

Let me investigate. Then erase what you must.

She’s composed.

But inside, she knows:

He ran. He feared her. Feared not being the best.

And still, she turned. She left first. Saved herself.

FLASHBACK – INT. HALL, FULL OF FLASHLIGHT

ASHER

She’s just a muse.

They stood side-by-side facing the crowd. The way he said it, so lightly, until it ache.

That night, she turned pain into poetry.

Published it with no hope. The next morning, she won.

She got the new on the same doorstep. Same as how she got that pendant.

But it didn’t feel like a win.

ASHER (V.O.)

She is just a muse.

EIRA (V.O.)

I got what I wished for. But maybe I wanted something else.

She threw the pendant out.

BACK TO PRESENT

On a nearby table, Eira saw the pendant.

He found it. Never returned it.

She picks it up silently. Clutches it.

CAMERA: THE STUDIO — 32 HALF-FINISHED STATUES

He didn’t vanish. He kept working.

She kneels. Examines them.

The crowd whispers:

How did he finish so many?

How did he complete the Athena in under five years?

V.O. – EIRA

Tell me. How did you do it?

V.O. – ASHER

I’ll tell you… if you promise you tell no one. That's serious.

V.O. – EIRA

Afraid of death? That’s not like you.

V.O. – ASHER

Very much. But I’m more afraid of surviving...

Creating is the only thing that makes me feel alive.

V.O. – EIRA

Is that the secret?

V.O. – ASHER

Part of it. But the real trick? Don’t tell anyone—

I cheat. Lost-wax method. Hollow cores.

That's how I finished them under 5 years.

While others still struggling with marbles.

V.O. – EIRA

——I promise.

Eira checks the cracked statues.

But they’re solid. Not hollow.

ASHER (V.O.)

I hide my truth not in my heart… but in the statue.

That's what make me feels safe.

Those statue's chests are still intact.

EIRA

Break them. All of them.

WORKER

Break? But…

EIRA

The loser’s work can’t remain.

But the ache hits her instantly.

She doesn’t hate him.

She never did.

She caught a silent judge glimpse from one of the workers. He said nothing. And started working.

Statues are shattered. Some hollow. Some not.

One stands out.

Eira looked at the Label: To The Muse (B.C. 198)

Something is carved inside.

FLASHBACK — THE PROPHECY WALL

A tangle of notes, sketches, and symbols.

She’d studied all his work.

She knew every piece of his art. The meaning. The sumbols behind them. She marked them down on her notes.

BACK TO PRESENT

Now she finds the same symbols in this statue.

Looks like epic poetry. But the words don't making sense at all.

She sits. Pulls out her scroll and notebook. Begins decoding.

FLASHBACK — THE PROPHECY WALL

CAMERA CLOSEUP —An undeciphered part of the prophecy wall.

EIRA (V.O.)

I hide secrets in my poems too.

ASHER (V.O.)

How?

EIRA (V.O.)

I turn words into symbols. For instance:

‘The’ becomes ‘First one’. ‘In’ becomes ‘Beneath’...

“Love" becomes 'Flame'. Es cetera...

ASHER (V.O.)

(Chuckled) Artists. We all hide things.

EIRA (V.O.)

That’s how we turn secrets… into art.

CAMERA CLOSE-UP: Her final notes.

She done deciphered those words.

Deciphered:

To the mortal I fall in love with that I never got.