Athena

The morning after Gian’s retreat was eerily quiet. The forest still smelled of smoke and iron, a lingering testament to the battle that had erupted just hours before. I walked along the ridge, scanning the horizon as the sun climbed higher, illuminating the treetops with golden light. Every step I took felt heavier than the last, weighed down not by exhaustion, but by the realization that Gian wasn’t finished.

Beauty followed closely behind, her eyes sharp and unwavering. She ...