She reached a door.
Her knock echoed.
A voice from within replied in a single word: Athena.
The figure drew back the veil.
And beneath it? A mask like mine.
I gasped.
The scene shattered.
Back to Reality
I woke on the floor of the gods' realm again.
Only the empty seats and broken throne remained. And faint smoke rising where the throne once was.
My heart trembled, even though the ability to feel had been sacrificed. Because what called my name was not dead. Not powerless.
It waited.
Behind every shard of vision I had swallowed, behind every revived memory, behind the throne etched with my name, lay a question I could not yet answer:
What is the enemy that calls MAEATHENA?
Me.
The gods' realm did not sleep. It pulsed, like a living heartbeat across stars and silence, the mountains carved from bone-white and the sky above stitched with stardust.
