The world smelled of rain. Damp earth clung to Athena's skin, heavy and suffocating as she stumbled through the forest. The storm had passed, leaving the trees dripping silver tears. Mist blanketed the path ahead, curling low around her ankles as though urging her forward into its embrace. She did not know where she was going. She did not even know if she wanted to live. Every breath dragged sharp pain into her chest, because life now meant living without them—her mother's laughter, her father's protective hand, their warmth in a world that had suddenly grown so cold.
She pressed her palm against her lips to muffle the sobs. The images would not leave her—the tearing of flesh, the spray of blood, her mother's voice breaking as she screamed run. Athena had run, but not by choice. Something had pulled her out, ripped her from that horror, and left her here in the forest like a broken doll.
"Why me?" she whispered into the mist. Her voice was hoarse, foreign in her ears. "Why did I survive?"
The forest offered no answer, only the echo of dripping leaves.
Her feet carried her forward. One step, then another, through the damp soil, past the roots that twisted like claws. She could not stop. If she stopped, the grief would crush her completely. She wanted to collapse, to sleep until death found her, but something—instinct, or perhaps that same force that had flung her into this place—compelled her to move.
She didn't notice the eyes.
High in the trees, shadows shifted. Shapes moved silently, their gazes fixed on her trembling figure. They whispered to one another in a language not human, voices low and guttural. The forest was alive with watchers, though Athena remained unaware.
Hours passed, though time had no meaning in the endless stretch of mist. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, her throat burned with thirst, and her body ached with exhaustion. At last, she stumbled into a small clearing where a stream wound gently between the rocks. She dropped to her knees beside it, plunging her hands into the cold water.
She drank greedily, ignoring the way her reflection rippled back at her. But when she finally looked, she gasped.
Her reflection shimmered strangely. Her eyes glowed faintly—not the soft green she knew, but something brighter, sharper, as though the forest itself had bled into her gaze. Her skin carried a faint luminescence, subtle but unnatural. She reached for her face, her fingers trembling.
"No… this isn't me," she whispered. But the reflection did not lie. Something had changed.
Before she could think further, a sound cut through the silence—the crack of a branch.
Athena spun around, her heart leaping.
From the mist emerged a figure. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a cloak so dark it seemed to drink the light. His face was shadowed beneath a hood, though his eyes gleamed faintly, catching what little light filtered through the mist.
Athena staggered backward. "Who—who are you?"
The man did not answer immediately. He simply studied her, tilting his head as though she were a puzzle. His silence stretched too long, thickening her fear until it felt unbearable.
Finally, his voice came. Deep. Low. Rumbling like distant thunder.
"You should not be here."
Athena's breath hitched. "I… I don't know how I got here. Please, I just want to go home." Her voice broke at the word home, because she knew there was no home to return to.
The man stepped closer, the mist swirling around his boots. "Home is gone. You belong elsewhere now."
Her blood ran cold. "What do you mean? Where? Who are you?"
Again, silence. Then he turned his head slightly, as though listening to something she could not hear. His voice dropped, darker now.
"They will come for you."
"Who will?" Athena demanded, though her knees trembled.
"Hunters. Beasts. Monsters." His eyes flashed faintly. "You are marked, girl. And the marked never go unclaimed."
Athena shook her head violently. "No. You're wrong. I'm just… I'm just Athena."
The man's mouth curved in something that might have been a smile—or a warning. "Athena," he repeated softly, tasting her name. "Names are fragile. You will learn this soon."
Before she could press him, a howl tore through the forest. Low and long, so close it shook her bones.
Her heart stopped.
The man's head snapped toward the sound. "Too late." He reached into his cloak, pulling free a blade that gleamed silver even in the mist. The air crackled with danger.
Figures emerged from the trees—wolves, but not ordinary wolves. Their bodies were larger, their eyes glowing with unnatural hunger, their movements too precise, too intelligent. Their growls vibrated through the clearing, circling Athena and the stranger.
She stumbled back, her breath shattering in her chest. "No… no, no, no."
The man stood firm, his blade raised. He looked back at her once, his eyes sharp. "Run if you value your life."
Athena's legs refused to move. She was frozen, her grief and terror chaining her to the spot.
The first wolf lunged.
The stranger met it midair, his blade slicing clean through its throat. Blood sprayed across the mist, dark and hot. The wolf collapsed at his feet, twitching before going still.
The others howled in fury and closed in.
Athena screamed as they lunged, but again the stranger moved with inhuman speed, his blade cutting arcs of silver through the mist. Wolves fell one after another, but more poured from the trees, their eyes glowing like embers.
Athena stumbled backward, tripping over a root. Her head struck the ground, stars exploding in her vision. She blinked through the blur, her ears ringing with snarls and steel. The last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her was the stranger standing over her, his blade dripping crimson, his eyes glowing faintly beneath the hood.
---
She woke to warmth. Not the warmth of her bed, nor the familiar embrace of her parents, but the warmth of fire crackling somewhere close. She stirred slowly, her limbs heavy, her throat dry.
When her eyes opened, she found herself beneath a wooden roof, lying on a simple cot. The room was small, lit by flickering firelight. The smell of herbs hung in the air, sharp and unfamiliar.
She sat up quickly, panic surging.
"Easy," a voice said.
Athena turned sharply. A woman sat in the corner, her long hair braided down her back, her eyes steady and kind. She wore simple clothes, though her presence carried quiet strength.
"Where am I?" Athena demanded, her voice shaking.
"Safe," the woman replied simply. "For now."
Athena's hands trembled. "My parents… they…" Her voice broke. Tears filled her eyes again, hot and uncontrollable. "They're gone. The vampires… they killed them. I don't understand why."
The woman's expression softened. She rose, crossing the room to place a hand on Athena's shoulder. "I am sorry, child. But you must be strong. The world has turned its gaze on you now. And grief will not shield you from it."
Athena shook her head. "Why me? Why are they after me?"
The woman's eyes flickered toward the fire. "Because you are not just Athena. You carry blood older than kingdoms. Blood that sings to those who hunt in the dark."
Athena froze. "No… that's not true. I'm just—"
"You are more," the woman interrupted firmly. "And you must learn what that means, or you will not survive the days to come."
Athena's breath trembled. "I don't want this. I just want my family back."
The woman's eyes glistened with quiet sorrow. "So do we all, child. But fate does not bend for wishes."
Before Athena could answer, the door creaked open.
The hooded stranger stepped inside, his blade strapped across his back. His presence filled the room instantly, dark and commanding. He glanced at Athena briefly, his eyes unreadable, before turning to the woman.
"They are moving closer," he said simply.
The woman's face tightened. "Then we must leave before nightfall."
Athena's chest clenched. "Leave? Where? I don't even know who you are!"
The stranger's gaze finally locked on hers. His voice was low, steady, and absolute.
"You will. Soon."
Athena's heart pounded. She didn't know if his words were a promise—or a threat.
But in that moment, deep within the shadows of his hood, she felt it—the faint brush of something ancient and terrible, something that reached across her soul like a hand closing around her throat.
She did not yet know his name.
She did not yet know the depth of his darkness.