The morning sunlight pressed its way through the thin curtains of Athena's room, laying soft golden stripes across the floorboards. She sat quietly on the edge of her narrow bed, her bare feet brushing the cool wood, her gaze fixed on the world outside her window. Beyond the glass, children ran past in clusters, their laughter echoing through the street like silver bells. They chased each other in circles, shrieking with delight, their small hands clapping in games that seemed to stretch endlessly.
Athena watched them with a wistful ache in her chest. She had never known joy like that. Her childhood had not been hers to live freely. Ever since her sixth birthday, when she first whispered to her mother that rain would fall though the sky was cloudless, and hours later the storm broke, her life had changed. The gift—or curse—of foresight had crept into her veins and marked her as different. Her parents, Henry and Grace, warned her never to tell anyone else. Never to share what she saw. Never to stand out more than she already did.
And she always stood out.
Her golden hair glimmered as if woven from the sun itself, spilling down her back in thick waves. Her eyes, the green of a deep forest, caught the attention of anyone who dared look at her for too long. People stared. Men stared. Boys at school stumbled over their words when she walked past, as though her presence alone unraveled their composure. Older men lingered longer, their gazes crawling across her skin until she shrank away. She never welcomed it, never encouraged it. Her beauty was not something she celebrated; it was something she carried like a chain.
Her mother often whispered: These men don't see you, Athena. They see only the shell. The danger is not in their love, but in their desire to own you. Stay hidden. Stay quiet. Obedience will keep you safe.
So she lived quietly. She obeyed. She never gave her heart away, not even when her peers teased her for being so untouched, so distant. She had heard too many stories of girls ruined—girls abandoned with children, girls forgotten on street corners, girls who had once laughed the way those children outside her window laughed, only to end up hollowed by disappointment. Athena had sworn never to become one of them.
Yet here she was, twenty years old, sitting alone on the morning of her birthday. She leaned down and pulled an umbrella from beneath her bed, brushing her fingers over its worn handle. Her voice came as a whisper to herself, one only the walls could hear.
"It's going to rain. Such a bad day for a birthday."
The words slipped out like prophecy. She didn't know how she knew, but the knowledge was there, pressing behind her eyes like every other vision before it. Rain was coming. A storm, perhaps. Heavy enough to ruin the day. Heavy enough to ruin everything.
Still, she rose, smoothed her plain dress, and walked toward the staircase. She trailed her hand along the wooden rail, steadying herself against a sudden unease that prickled her skin. As she descended, voices carried upward—her father's sharp with anger, her mother's soft but breaking. And then came a third voice. One Athena did not recognize.
Deep. Cold. Commanding.
She froze halfway down the stairs, her pulse racing as she leaned forward to listen.
"It's either you sign the contract," the stranger said, each word laced with quiet menace, "or you lose her forever."
Athena's breath caught. Lose who?
"You have no right to come into my home and make demands," Henry snapped, his voice trembling with fury. "She's my daughter. She belongs here with us."
Tears threatened her mother's voice as Grace spoke. "Tell your boss, she's not for sale. Not now, not ever."
The stranger chuckled, low and amused. "Mr. Henry, my boss does not handle rejection well. You would be wise to reconsider. He is not a patient man."
Athena clutched the railing until her knuckles turned white. Her parents never argued with strangers. They never sounded so desperate, so defiant. Her heart pounded louder with each word.
"I'd rather die than sell my daughter!" Grace's voice cracked into a shout. "Now leave!"
The stranger's footsteps creaked against the floorboards. "Very well," he said at last, calm and unhurried. "My boss will gladly grant your wishes."
Athena couldn't stop herself. She stepped into the living room, her eyes wide with confusion. A tall man in a black tuxedo stood at the center, his posture sharp, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. A dragon tattoo curled along his neck, its inked scales coiling toward his jaw. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and his smirk deepened as his gaze locked onto hers.
Athena felt stripped bare beneath that stare. Exposed in a way that made her stomach twist.
The man didn't say another word. He simply tipped his head, adjusted his cuffs, and strode out of the house, shutting the door behind him.
Athena rushed forward. "Who was that? What's going on?"
Her mother forced a trembling smile, her eyes shining with tears. "Oh, darling, it's nothing. Let's not spoil your birthday. Let's go into town."
"Grace," Henry began, his voice thick with dread. "We can't keep hiding the truth—"
"Not today," Grace cut in sharply, silencing him with a glance. "Not on her birthday."
Athena's chest tightened. Her parents were hiding something. Something about her. She wanted to demand answers, to force the truth into the open, but her mother's trembling hands stopped her. Instead, she nodded stiffly, though unease curdled in her stomach like poison.
They gathered their things and climbed into the old wagon that had belonged to her grandfather. The ride into town stretched thirty minutes along a narrow road lined with towering oaks. Silence pressed down in the car. Her mother's hands clutched the wheel so tightly her knuckles blanched white. Her father's jaw was clenched, his gaze fixed on the trees as though searching for threats. Athena turned toward the forest, counting trunks to calm her racing heart.
That was when she saw it. A figure between the trees. Watching.
Her breath caught. She leaned forward for a clearer look, but the figure vanished into the shadows. Her pulse hammered. She parted her lips to speak, but before she could, her mother slammed on the brakes. The wagon screeched, lurching violently to a stop.
"Grace!" Henry shouted. "What—"
His words died on his tongue. A man lay sprawled across the road, his body twisted unnaturally, his clothes torn as though he had been dragged through the underbrush.
"Oh no," Grace gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.
Athena's heart lurched. "Is he alive? Mom, we have to help him!" She reached for the door, but her mother caught her arm.
"Stay in the car, darling," Grace whispered, her voice trembling. "Please."
Henry jumped out quickly, rushing to the stranger. He knelt beside him, touching his shoulder. "So sorry, child. We'll take you to the hospital. Just stay still. Where does it hurt?"
The man stirred. Slowly. Too slowly. Then his eyes opened—deep, unnatural red, glowing like coals in the dark.
Athena's blood froze.
"A… vampire…" Henry stammered.
The man lunged. His fangs sank into Henry's neck with a sickening tear. Henry's body convulsed, his blood spilling as he gurgled a strangled cry. Athena screamed, her hands clawing at the door, but her mother's shriek cut through the chaos.
Two more figures stepped from the shadows, their movements swift, inhuman. One seized Grace by the arms. The other gripped her throat.
"Run, Athena!" Grace cried, her voice desperate and broken. "Don't let them—"
Her scream ended in a sickening slice as claws tore through her flesh. Her head rolled from her body, blood spraying across the dirt.
Athena's world shattered.
She stumbled from the wagon, her knees buckling beneath her. Her parents lay lifeless, their blood soaking the earth, their sacrifice meaningless against the hunger of monsters. The vampires turned toward her, their mouths dripping crimson, their eyes blazing with hunger.
She scrambled backward, her hands tearing at the dirt, her sobs choking her breath. She could not think. She could not breathe. Death closed in from all sides.
One vampire reached for her shoulder. His touch burned. His grip was iron.
And then—light.
Blinding brilliance burst from her chest, searing through the forest. The vampires stumbled back, hissing, their arms shielding their eyes. The ground shook as the energy pulsed outward, swallowing her whole.
When the light dimmed, Athena was gone.
---
She awoke with a gasp, sprawled across damp soil. Mist curled around her body, silver and heavy, wrapping her like a shroud. She sat up quickly, her chest heaving, her eyes darting through the forest. No wagon. No blood. No parents. Only silence.
Her breath trembled. "What's happening to me?"
The mist thickened, curling upward like smoke. The trees whispered, their leaves rustling with voices she almost understood. The air grew heavy, sparking against her skin. A storm was coming. She could feel it. She had whispered of it hours ago, but this was no ordinary rain.
Thunder cracked above. Lightning seared across the canopy, illuminating her fear in brief flashes. The earth shook beneath her knees. Wind howled, snapping branches like bones. The storm screamed, alive and merciless.
She pressed her palms against her ears, but the whispers broke through.
Child of allure… the blood remembers… beware the dragon's mark…
Athena sobbed. "Stop! Please, stop!"
The storm only roared louder. Lightning struck an oak behind her, illuminating a glowing symbol carved deep into its bark—serpents coiled in a circle. She reached for it, desperate for something to cling to, and the instant her fingers brushed the mark, the storm silenced.
The forest froze. The mist hovered. The wind stilled. Only the symbol glowed, pulsing softly as though alive.
Power spread through her veins, cold at first, then burning warm, a fire she didn't understand. The voices whispered again, softer.
Athena… goddess of allure…
Her breath caught. She shook her head. "No. I'm just a girl."
But the forest watched. The air shifted. Eyes unseen lingered in the shadows. And then—a howl. Long. Low. Answered by another. Closer.
Athena staggered to her feet, trembling. Something was coming. The mist parted, revealing a narrow path ahead. She didn't know where it led, but instinct told her to run. She stumbled forward, her tears blinding her, the howls echoing behind her.
Her parents' screams haunted her. Their sacrifice replayed with every step. She wanted to collapse, to let grief devour her whole. But something—fate, destiny, blood—pulled her onward.
She didn't know the storm had marked her. She didn't know her blood now carried ancient power. She didn't know dark eyes in a distant mansion had already turned toward her.
But soon, she would.