"We humans are creatures of God, just passing through this world, our feet must stay on the ground, but our gaze should be turned to the heavens," that was always the saying of Father Anastasios, my grandfather, I often heard him utter it as advice and guidance whenever we stood high up on the monastery hill, gazing at the estate and the lake embracing the great city, the renowned Ioannina. But I am not human, I am a spirit, yes, my head, my head is turned to the heavens, I await help from Him, protection from Him so I may pass unseen and invisible through the wild, iron-clad armies that surround the great city, seeking to conquer it with fire and sword. I am a spirit, yes, that is why I no longer keep my feet on the ground, they barely touch it, barely feel it, as I rush down the monastery hill, fleeing into the thick darkness.
I was always a spirit, once I thought I was a tree, my roots firmly planted in the soil of the estate and the plain. I believed my father's name was Pavlis, my mother's Chrysanthi, I loved Filios since I was a child, I thought he would become my husband and we would intertwine our roots, our branches would blossom in this plain and our seeds would sprout. How wrong I was. The wild desire of our overseer at the estate reached me, to take me as a servant and maid in his manor. The unquestioning submission and consent of those I thought were my parents also reached me. Then the darkness vanished and the terrible truth began to reveal itself before my stunned eyes. Neither Pavlis nor Chrysanthi were my parents, nor did Filios love me as I foolishly believed, all of them betrayed me terribly, they fed me with terrible lies, they nourished me with them, they raised me with them.