The forest whispered secrets Athena could not understand. Its branches creaked as though burdened with knowledge, and the mist clung to her skin like clammy fingers. She sat close to the fire, trying to draw comfort from its warmth, though none reached her heart. The woman—her rescuer—moved about the hut, arranging herbs into neat bundles. She hummed a low tune, something soft and old, but even that did little to soothe Athena's restless spirit.
Every time she closed her eyes, the memories came back—their screams, the tearing of flesh, the spray of red against darkened trees. Her parents' faces, twisted in shock and pain, haunted her. She had always thought her life ordinary, protected, small. Now the world had revealed its cruelty, and she could never unsee it.
"Drink this," the woman said gently, placing a clay cup in her hands. Steam rose from the liquid, carrying the bitter smell of roots. "It will steady your heart."
Athena hesitated, staring down at the cup. She wanted to trust this stranger, this mysterious woman who had taken her in. But trust had died the night her parents had. She sipped anyway, if only to quiet the trembling in her hands. The taste was sharp, earthy, grounding.
"You'll need strength for the road ahead," the woman added, kneeling beside her. "They won't stop hunting you. But I will help you, child."
Athena's lips parted. "Why me?" she whispered. "Why are they after me?"
The woman's eyes glimmered with something she could not name—sorrow, perhaps, or fear. "Because you are more than you know."
Athena's stomach tightened. She wanted answers, yet dread prickled at her skin. "What do you mean?"
Before the woman could speak, the flames in the hearth flickered violently. The air in the hut shifted, heavy and sharp, like the pressure before a storm. Athena sat rigid, her cup slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor.
The woman's head snapped toward the door, her body tensing. She whispered a word Athena didn't understand, her hands forming a sign in the air. The fire dimmed, and shadows swelled against the walls.
Then the door blew open.
A blast of cold air swept inside, snuffing what little warmth remained. The fire guttered out completely, plunging the hut into near darkness. Mist spilled across the threshold, curling around Athena's feet. Her pulse raced as her eyes fixed on the figure now filling the doorway.
He stood tall, so tall he seemed to scrape the very ceiling. His shoulders were broad beneath a cloak of black, the fabric heavy as though woven from night itself. The hood shadowed his face, but she could feel his gaze—the weight of it pressing down on her, rooting her in place. Power rolled off him in waves, thick and suffocating, making the air difficult to breathe.
Athena's heart stuttered. Every instinct screamed danger. Her mouth went dry, her body frozen. The room seemed smaller with him in it, the walls bending inward under his presence.
"You shouldn't be here," the woman hissed, stepping between Athena and the intruder. Her hand glowed faintly with a strange light, her stance firm. "She is under my protection."
A deep, low laugh rumbled from the figure. It was not human. It carried centuries of cruelty, of hunger, of something feral dressed in civility. When he spoke, his voice was velvet wrapped around steel, each word dripping with authority.
"Your protection means nothing."
Athena's breath caught. The sound of him alone unsettled her soul, like a melody she had heard in her dreams but wished she hadn't.
"She is not yours to take," the woman declared. "I will not let you—"
In a blur too fast for Athena's eyes, he moved. One moment he stood at the door, the next he was upon them. His hand, pale and strong, pierced the woman's chest with effortless precision. She gasped, her glowing hand dimming as she crumpled in his grasp.
Athena screamed, stumbling backward, her body colliding with the cot. "No! Stop! Please!"
The man's expression remained untouched by mercy. He yanked his hand free, letting the woman's lifeless body collapse to the floor with a dull thud. Blood darkened the dirt, seeping into the cracks, the metallic scent filling the room.
Athena's vision blurred with tears. Horror clawed at her throat. She pressed herself against the wall, her heart slamming against her ribs. "You killed her! You… you monster!"
His hood shifted, and for the first time, she glimpsed the sharp line of his jaw, the cruel curve of his mouth. He looked down at the corpse without a flicker of remorse, then turned his gaze to her.
"Monster," he repeated softly, as though savoring the word. "Perhaps."
Athena trembled violently, rage and terror mingling inside her. "Why? She was helping me! She was all I had left!"
He stepped closer, each movement smooth, deliberate, predatory. "She would have failed you. Or worse, betrayed you. I spared you that… inconvenience."
"You're lying!" Her voice cracked. "You enjoyed killing her!"
His lips curved into a faint, wicked smile. "Enjoyment is irrelevant. She was in the way. You are what matters."
Athena's stomach twisted. She couldn't understand him. Couldn't understand why he would kill someone who had shown her kindness. The tears streamed unchecked down her face. She wanted to fight, to scream, to make him vanish—but her body refused to move.
He reached her in two strides. His hand closed around her wrist, cold and unyielding. She flinched, struggling against his grip. "Let me go! Don't touch me!"
His hold tightened, not cruelly, but immovably, like iron shackles. "Quiet," he murmured, his tone commanding, dangerous. "You've seen enough of what defiance brings."
Athena froze, her breath ragged. She wanted to hate him, and she did. But beneath that hate was fear so raw it burned through her veins.
With no more words, he pulled her toward the door. She resisted, kicking, clawing, her nails raking against his cloak. But her struggles were nothing against his strength. He dragged her out into the misty night, her cries lost to the whispering forest.
Outside, the air thickened, swirling violently. Shadows gathered, curling around him like living things. He drew her against his chest, one arm banded around her, and then the world shifted.
The forest dissolved. Darkness swallowed everything. Athena screamed, but the sound was ripped from her throat as they fell through shadows, faster and faster, until—
They landed.
The ground beneath her was marble, cold and smooth. The air carried the scent of smoke and steel. Athena blinked rapidly, her vision adjusting. She stood inside a vast hall, its ceiling stretching high into shadows. Torches lined the walls, their flames flickering with eerie blue light. The stone was black, veined with silver, as though carved from the night sky itself.
She stumbled backward, her knees weak. "Where… where am I?"
The man removed his hood. At last, she saw him fully.
He was breathtaking and terrifying all at once. His face was carved with sharp lines, ageless yet ancient, his skin pale against the cascade of black hair that framed it. His eyes—gray as storm clouds—fixed on her with an intensity that pinned her in place. They were eyes that had seen centuries, eyes that promised ruin.
Her breath caught in her throat. He was no man. He was something older, something darker.
"You are in my home," he said simply, his voice echoing in the cavernous hall. "You will not leave."
Athena's body shook. "No… no, you can't keep me here. I don't belong here!"
"You belong exactly where I put you." His tone left no room for argument.
Tears welled again in her eyes. "You killed her. You're a demon. A cold-hearted demon."
He tilted his head slightly, studying her with a predator's calm. "Yes," he said, unapologetically. "And yet you are alive because of me."
"I'd rather be dead than here with you!" she spat, though her voice trembled.
His smile was cruel, thin. "Careful what you wish for, little one. Death is far kinder than I am."
Athena's chest constricted. Her rage flared again, but beneath it, something else stirred—something she didn't want to acknowledge. The way his voice wrapped around her name, the way his presence filled the room, drew her in even as it repelled her. She hated it. She hated him.
He turned from her then, striding toward the far end of the hall. His cloak trailed behind him like smoke. "You'll be given a room," he said. "You'll stay there until I decide otherwise."
Athena's fists clenched. "Why me? Why are you doing this?"
He paused at the base of a grand staircase, his back to her. His voice drifted, low and final. "Because the world wants to devour you. And I do not share."
Then he was gone, ascending into the shadows above, leaving her alone in the vast, cold hall.
Athena sank to the floor, sobs wracking her body. She pressed her palms against the marble, its chill seeping into her bones. She was trapped, her heart breaking, her soul trembling. The woman who had shown her kindness was dead, her parents gone, and now she was the possession of a monster.
A monster she feared.
A monster she hated.
And yet… a monster who had spared her life.