Athena Ravenwood did not repeat her name.
She did not need to.
It traveled ahead of her—passed from refugee to soldier, from prisoner to child hiding beneath floorboards. Mothers left bread at crossroads. Fighters adjusted their routes to follow her wake. Officers slept with weapons within reach.
The Concord painted her as a butcher, a fanatic, a demon wearing a woman's face.
They were wrong in the most dangerous way.
Athena did not kill indiscriminately. She dismantled supply lines instead of towns. She freed prisoners instead of claiming territory. She hunted commanders who ordered massacres and spared conscripts who lowered their guns.
To the powerless, she became the Widow of the War, though none knew whom she mourned.
To the Concord, she became an unacceptable variable.
A bounty was placed on her head large enough to purchase a city's betrayal.