Athena's POV
The room was cold. The kind of cold that seeps under your skin, that makes you forget what warmth ever felt like. The kind that belongs in ruins, in places where hope has long since rotted away.
Broken walls cast jagged shadows across cracked marble, all that was left of what used to be mine. Once, this chamber had echoed with music, laughter, the weight of sacred vows. Now it smelled of smoke, blood, and the ashes of everything I used to love.
A soft knock broke the silence.
I didn't answer.
I didn't have to.
The door creaked open, its hinges groaning beneath the weight of time and neglect. He came anyway.
Lucas stepped inside like a man walking into his own execution. His hands trembling was just enough to betray how nervous he was. And his eyes, gods, his eyes looked wild, desperate, and burdened with something far heavier than guilt.
Me.
"Athena," he breathed, and my name landed somewhere between a prayer and a curse on his lips.
