In the aftermath of the battle, the arena felt like a graveyard.
Smoke still hung in the air. Part of the crowd was aflame, running in panic. The rest stood frozen—some in disbelief that Councilman Iro had been reduced to ash, others stunned by the arrival of a girl who tore through one of their strongest like he was nothing.
And on the throne, Persephone's face shifted—no longer blank, no longer unimpressed.
She smiled.
A slow, dark curl of satisfaction.
She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with something close to admiration. "What is your name, child?" she asked.
Aurora stood tall, the fires behind her painting her silhouette in gold and red. "My name is Aurora," she said.
Persephone shook her head, the smile deepening. "No. You are no longer that girl. You are my heir—and you deserve a name as strong, as eternal, as ruthless as you are."
She stood, voice echoing through the ruins of the arena.
"From this moment until the end of your life, your name shall be Athena."
And Aurora—no, Athena—smirked.
In her mind, something shifted. Something snapped. She had shed the last of her past. The last of Lunafreya's memory, the last shred of the girl I once knew.
She was reborn. Fierce. Unforgiving. Cold.
My mother's daughter.
Persephone began the celebration then—her dark, lavish way of honoring triumph and death. Wine flowed. Music roared. Blood still stained the ground, but to them, it was decoration. Her Councilman had died in front of her and she felt nothing at all and that was the person I brought my child to.
And I stood there, on the sidelines.
Watching my daughter slip away in front of me.
And I could do absolutely nothing to stop it.
And you could see—not everyone was happy or on board with the new heir. Not only had she put people in danger, but her very first act was burning a great man of the people. But no one could speak up. I watched Athena make merry with Persephone, and it disturbed me deeply—an itch within I just couldn't scratch. But at least, I told myself, they would take care of the Quintels. Maybe then it would all be worth something. Otherwise, I have been the biggest fool of all.
Athena, as the new heir, was as brutal as I feared she would be. She went off to battles and returned reeking of burnt bodies—blood still on her hands, never even trying to hide it. To her and Persephone, conquering had become a sport.
Until finally, I had to confront them—had to ask why all this was necessary. And like always, they pushed me to the side. The only reason I was still around at this point was because they didn't want to go through the stress of getting rid of me.
And so the empire between grandmother and daughter began, more ruthless than ever.
But in a weird way I was happy for her, as sadistic as Persephone was she cared for Athena at least in her own way
So maybe that was the comfort I told myself to give me someone sliver of hope but they seemed to delay going after the Quintels and I had lost all hope
At least, that was what I thought—until I met Amelia.
Oh, Amelia.
She was angelic. I think she was the last piece of beauty and hope left in the Nefarious Empire. She was only there because her father, a general, had died fighting for the empire, and she had decided to stay for her family.
And she wasn't just anyone—she had been Lunafreya's old friend. Her mentor when Luna first came to the Nefarious Empire. Her guide. Her best friend.
Don't get me wrong—there was nothing romantic between us. At least, not at the time. I didn't think there could be. I was still mourning, and in my eyes, no one could ever compare to Luna. Everyone else just fell short.
But when I saw her pass me by in the palace, it was like a reminder of something else—something good. A glimpse of the hope and beauty that once existed before all the ugliness swallowed it whole.
Hard to explain, but when I saw her, I felt the tension drop—not all the way, and not for long—but for a moment, the air was lighter.
And so I followed her.
I didn't know why, or what I planned to say or do. I just needed someone—something—that wasn't death and war.
But the closer I got, the more it felt like she was running, like she was trying to escape me.
Still, I couldn't stop myself. I reached out and pulled her gently by the hand—and immediately, she turned around and slapped the taste out of my mouth.
I was shocked—but I understood.
She was still so peaceful, even in that moment. It felt like the slap was the most violent thing she had ever done.
And then she spoke—with a broken, dry voice, like she had been crying for days.
"Why? Why are you back? Why did you lose Luna? Why? Why? Why?"
Before I could say anything, she threw herself at me—hitting me, punching, striking—but it didn't feel like she was hurting me.
It felt like she was hurting herself more with every blow.
I didn't know what to do. I had no words.
So I just held her.
Her fists dropped uselessly against me, and then she started bawling, a deep, soul-wrenching sound—and she fell to the floor, and I fell with her.
We stayed in the walkway for a while
I don't know if she fell asleep in my arms, or if she was just worn out—but I didn't mind.
It was nice, just to stay somewhere again.
Just… just be.
It was something I hadn't experienced in a long time.
Eventually, she stirred awake, and the first words out of her mouth were,
"What happened to Luna? You said you'd protect her. You said you'd keep her safe."
And all I could say was,
"I failed. From son, to heir, to lover, to husband—I failed at every aspect of my life. And now, I'm the biggest failure as a father to Aurora."
I don't know why, but I thought she would comfort me.
Maybe some part of me hoped she'd say it wasn't all my fault.
But she had her own demons to wrestle with.
She didn't really respond to me at all.
Instead, she whispered, brokenly,
"Please don't tell me the innocent child that lived inside Lunafreya… is now the demon that's burning people alive, calling herself Athena."
And I answered, because how could I lie?
"What did I do to her?" I said.
"She was upset at the world. And she needed an enemy.
So I gave her one—the whole world."