In the essay that begins our 2004 European Heroes special report — TIME's annual gallery of extraordinary men and women who inspire, provoke and make us proud — historian Tristram Hunt points out that each age redefines heroism to suit its own needs. Which raises a question: If we're now living through an Age of Terror, has that painful reality altered our perception of what makes a hero?

The answer is no. Terrorism is a crucible for heroic virtues we have long admired. And, of course, terrorism is just one of many scourges besetting the planet: Time's heroes are taking on an astonishing array of crises (and, in a few cases, simply spreading joy through the power of their artistic achievement). But in a year that has seen bombs rip apart commuter trains in Spain and a school in Russia, we couldn't help but recognize people whose heroism was forged in response to terror. In Moscow, Ilya Lyubimsky gave up a business career to become a rescuer — saving lives torn asunder by Chechen bombs has become almost routine for him. On March 11 in Madrid, the rescue team headed by Ervigio Corral Torres was credited with saving 400 people. And on Sept. 1, when terrorists seized School No. 1 in Beslan, 13-year-old Vika Kallagova responded with an incredibly moving act of heroism and sisterly love: Vika could have escaped — but that would have meant leaving behind her 7-year-old sister, Olya. Instead, Vika stayed, was taken hostage, and helped little Olya survive the massacre.

In Baghdad, Italian aid workers Simona Pari and Simona Torretta became victims of terrorism when they were taken hostage on Sept. 7. As Italy and the world kept vigil for them, Rome Correspondent Jeff Israely began work on a profile of them — and when they were reported to have been killed, we debated whether to honor them posthumously. Then they were released — and Israely landed the only in-depth interview with the two. "Since their return," he says, "the Simonas have been showered with love from absolute strangers." Says Torretta: "People have been coming up to me and saying, 'We think of you like our daughter, or our sister.'" Vika and Olya Kallagova know just what that means.