Athena stepped through the village gates, expecting life, people, sound—something.
Instead, silence greeted her.
The village looked like it had been forgotten. Houses leaned with age, their wooden frames cracked and rotting. Roofs sagged under the weight of time, and the stone paths were covered in weeds and moss. The air smelled faintly of damp wood and something old.
A few people were on the streets, but the moment they saw her, they disappeared. Doors slammed. Curtains were pulled shut. Even the ones who glanced her way avoided eye contact, hurrying off without a word.
She slowed, unsettled. The quiet wasn't peaceful—it was heavy. Like the whole place didn't want her there.
She walked a little further, trying to look around for anything familiar. She stopped a passing boy. "Do you know someone named Eira?" she asked.
He didn't answer. He just stared, wide-eyed, before turning and running.
Athena stood still, trying not to let the growing anxiety show on her face.
She asked others—an old woman at a well, a man stacking firewood—but they all ignored her, vanished, or shut their doors in her face.
No one wanted to help.
No one wanted to talk.
And she was starting to understand why. This village didn't just look abandoned—it felt abandoned. Like it had been alive once, but something had drained the life from it. And maybe… from Eira too.
Her head started spinning. Her legs were weak. She stumbled to the side of a narrow path and leaned against a broken fence, coughing hard.
Then she felt it.
Wetness on her lips.
She looked down.
Blood.
Thick, dark red. It had stained her hand, dripping from her mouth. Her whole chest was on fire, like something inside her was tearing itself apart.
She sat down, gasping for air. Her vision blurred, and every breath felt like knives digging into her ribs.
She clutched her side, shaking.
What the hell is happening to me?
Her hands trembled as she wiped her mouth. She was scared now—really scared. This wasn't just fatigue or shock.
Something was wrong.
Seriously wrong.
Just then, a voice cut through the stillness.
"Oh my… you look like you could use some help, child."
Athena looked up, vision swimming. An old woman stood before her, hunched with age but eyes sharp and strangely kind. Her gray hair was braided and tied back, and she carried a woven basket filled with dried herbs and small jars.
"Come now," the woman said gently, stepping closer. "Come, come. Let's get you out of this cold."
Athena hesitated, but her legs weren't strong enough to argue. She allowed the woman to loop an arm around her and slowly guide her down the narrow path, away from the silent houses and the watching windows.
They walked for what felt like forever.
Each step was heavier than the last. Her vision dimmed at the edges, and her breaths came shallow and ragged.
By the time they reached the hut—a crooked little thing tucked between two larger, crumbling homes—Athena was barely standing.
The woman opened the door with a creak and led her inside. It was warmer here. The air smelled of herbs and firewood.
"Just lie down there, dear," the woman said, patting a heap of straw by the hearth. "You'll be alright. Just rest."
Athena collapsed onto the straw without a word. The warmth of the room wrapped around her like a blanket, and the fire crackled softly in the corner.
Her limbs gave out.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
And then—
Darkness swallowed her bit by bit.
"Host selected..."
The voice rang out, mechanical yet oddly calm, cutting through the haze of her fading consciousness.
"System analyzing..."
A quiet whir followed, as if something deep within her was being sifted through, piece by piece.
"20 percent complete."
"40 percent complete."
"71 percent complete."
A faint hum built beneath the words, resonating somewhere behind her ribcage.
"100 percent complete."
Silence.
Then—
"System initializing..."
A sudden warmth bloomed in her chest, pulsing in time with her slowing heartbeat. Light—cold and silver—flickered behind her closed eyelids, casting strange shadows across the inside of her mind.
"Synchronization complete."
Her breath hitched.
"Welcome, Athena. Your integration has begun."
Before she could grasp what was happening, a gentle numbness swept over her limbs. The voice dimmed, as if drawing back into the depths.
"System dormant. Awaiting activation..."
And like a switch flipped, the world vanished.
Her breathing slowed. Her fingers curled loosely into the straw.
This time, she truly slept—deep, dreamless, and still.
________
Early the next morning, the seaside was alive with quiet motion—waves lapping at the shore, seagulls wheeling above, and villagers wading knee-deep in the cold tide, hunting fish with nets or bare hands.
Among them, one figure stood out.
A young boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen, silver hair glinting under the morning sun like threads of light. His pale blue eyes mirrored the sea itself—calm on the surface, but holding hidden depths. Bare-chested and barefoot, he moved with surprising grace as he plunged his arms into the water, trying to snatch fish with nothing but quick reflexes. The early signs of adolescence were etched into his frame, lean but growing stronger—lines of muscle just beginning to surface across his stomach and arms.
"Hey, Kael!"
A voice called out, breathless and loud. Another boy, muddy and panting, ran up the beach.
Kael turned, blinking seawater from his lashes. "Yes?"
"Gran Mirela's calling for you!"
Kael's brows knit together, puzzled. "What for?"
The other boy flopped dramatically onto the sand. "I don't know—just go! She looked serious though!"
Kael gave one last glance at the sea, then sighed. Without much thought, he stepped out of the surf and began walking barefoot toward the path leading to Mirela's crooked little home.
Back at the hut, the fire crackled softly.
Athena stirred.
Her eyelids fluttered open,The ache in her limbs had dulled, and her head was clear. She sat up slowly, blinking at the cozy, dim room.
"Right... the kind granny."
The memory returned like a whisper—the woman's basket, her firm but gentle hands, the warmth of the hearth.
Just then, the door creaked open and the old woman stepped inside, cradling a small wooden bowl that steamed faintly.
"Here," she said, voice kind but brisk. "Drink this."
Athena leaned forward, taking the bowl—then immediately recoiled. The liquid inside was dark, thick, and smelled faintly of something burned.
Her nose wrinkled. "Ugh…"
The old woman gave her a look. "Come on now. Drink up. It's for your health. The dark energy in you is getting stronger."
Athena froze, spoon halfway to her lips.
"…What?"
"You've been cursed, young lady," the woman said, matter-of-fact. "And not just any ordinary curse. Can't you feel it? It's draining you. Eating at your life force."
Athena blinked, bowl still in hand.
Cursed?
Her mind reeled.
Could it be…?
Did this Eira girl—whoever she had been before—seriously get cursed and just… die? Dumping the after-effects, the weight, the responsibility, all of it, onto her?
Her eye twitched.
You've got to be joking.
She grabbed the old woman's arm, desperation in her voice. "Who are you? Where am I? Why is this place like this? What's going on? What's happening?!"
Her voice shook, the chaos in her mind growing louder with every word. The more she asked, the less she felt in control of herself. It was as if the questions were ripping through her, and the answers were nowhere to be found.
The old woman remained unmoved, her face calm, almost serene. She didn't react to Athena's panic, didn't seem bothered in the slightest. Instead, she slowly lowered herself into a creaky wooden chair beside the bed, her eyes never leaving Athena's face.
"Drink," she said, her voice steady and unhurried. "Then we'll talk."
Athena's hands trembled as they clutched by her side. The woman didn't answer her questions. She didn't give her the reassurance she so desperately needed. It felt as though Athena was being smothered by a cloud of confusion, her thoughts twisting in circles. She didn't understand any of this, none of it.
She wanted to scream, to shout until she could wake up from this nightmare, but she couldn't. The overwhelming need to know—what had happened, where she was, who she was—grew too loud, too pressing. The weight of not knowing was suffocating.
But the woman just sat there, as if waiting for Athena to comply. To drink.
"You want answers?" the old woman said, her tone calm. "Drink. And then you'll understand."
Athena stared at her, eyes wide and wild, unable to comprehend the simplicity of her request. But it was as if her mind couldn't handle the storm any longer. The questions kept swirling, demanding to be answered, and the old woman's implacable silence only made them louder, sharper.
Finally, unable to fight the strange pull in her chest, Athena took the bowl from the old woman's hands, her fingers shaking. She hesitated for a moment, but the silence between them felt too heavy, too filled with expectation. She lifted the bowl to her lips, the bitter liquid filling her senses as she drank.
And then… she waited.