Aphrodite leads me through the forest.
At first, her grip is steady. Then, gradually, it tightens. Not out of control, but out of thought. She keeps glancing at me, then ahead, as if weighing something she hasn't decided yet.
The forest feels close. Not threatening. Just… alive in a way I cannot feel.
I follow without resistance.
Eventually, we reach a narrow path. The trees thin, and the forest gives way to open land. A village comes into view—small homes, smoke rising from chimneys, people working fields and tending to simple things.
Normal life.
It slows as we approach.
Then stops.
People notice.
A man straightens from his work. A woman pauses mid-step. A few stare openly. Others try not to. The looks are different—curiosity, unease, quiet judgment.
Then it settles into something more direct.
Who is he?
Aphrodite feels it immediately.
Her grip tightens, and she pulls me faster now, head slightly lowered. Embarrassment creeps in when she realizes I am still naked. She doesn't say it, but her pace says enough.
She just wants to get inside.
We reach her home.
She brings me in quickly and shuts the door behind us.
There's a small pause.
Then she gestures toward the floor.
"Sit."
It's not harsh, just distracted. Her mind is elsewhere.
I sit.
She disappears into another room, closing the door. I hear her moving things around—quick, uneven. She's searching, but not calmly. There's a nervous edge to it now.
I listen for a moment.
Then I stop.
The other sound is still there.
Distant.
Faint.
War.
It never leaves. It sits behind everything else, waiting. I focus on it instead.
It's easier.
She comes back with a tunic.
She hesitates for half a second before handing it to me, her eyes lingering. Not in fear. Not exactly. Just trying to understand what she brought into her home.
"Here… put this on."
I do.
The fabric is simple. Rough. It doesn't matter.
She watches me as I finish, then tries again.
"What's your name?"
No answer.
"Where are you from?"
Nothing.
She exhales quietly, a small release of frustration. Not anger—just confusion. She isn't used to being ignored.
She shifts her approach.
"I'm Aphrodite," she says again, a little more grounded this time. "Kane's daughter."
There's something steadier in her voice now.
"He found me out there," she adds, nodding toward the forest. "Took me in." A small smile forms, more genuine this time. "He always said I'd grow into the most beautiful woman alive."
She looks at me, waiting.
For recognition. For reaction. For anything.
There is nothing.
The silence stretches.
Her smile fades just slightly—not hurt, but thrown off.
I stand.
She notices immediately.
"You're leaving?" she asks.
There's a hint of something in her voice now. Not fear. Not quite disappointment. Just… something unfinished.
I walk toward the door.
It bursts open before I reach it.
The sound is sharp. Immediate.
A man steps in.
Kane.
His eyes go straight to Aphrodite. Not to me. To her. He looks her over quickly, checking for something—injury, distress, anything out of place.
Then he sees me.
Everything in him shifts.
Behind him, several warriors enter, not rushing but ready. They spread out naturally, forming a loose circle. A robed figure lingers behind them, quiet, watching.
Kane steps closer to Aphrodite.
"I heard someone dragged you," he says, voice controlled but tight. "A man. No clothes."
His eyes flick to me, then back to her.
"Are you alright?"
The question is real.
So is the anger behind it.
"If he did anything to you—"
He doesn't finish the sentence.
He doesn't need to.
Aphrodite takes a breath, about to answer—
I interrupt.
A short scoff.
Then I laugh.
It isn't loud at first, but it cuts through the room.
Kane's expression hardens immediately.
"You?" I say, looking at him now. "You think you could kill me?"
I glance at the others.
"Any of you?"
The laughter grows, sharper now.
"That's not something you're capable of."
The room tightens.
One of the warriors shifts his footing. Another grips his weapon a little tighter. No one moves yet, but the air changes.
Aphrodite steps forward quickly.
"Wait—this isn't—"
"Enough."
Kane doesn't look at her.
That's the moment something turns.
Not just anger.
Pride.
Control.
He won't be corrected. Not here. Not like this.
"Take him," he orders.
The warriors move.
One comes in first—fast, trying to end it quickly.
I watch him.
He swings.
I move just enough.
I duck under the blade and drive my fist upward into his jaw.
He drops immediately.
The room reacts—subtle, but real.
That wasn't expected.
Two more step in together this time, more careful. They grab onto me, trying to bring me down with weight instead of speed.
They're thinking now.
Adjusting.
For a second, they slow me.
Then I push back.
My foot plants. My balance shifts.
I strike—once, then again.
Both lose their grip and fall away, breath knocked out of them.
Now the hesitation is clearer.
No one rushes immediately.
Kane sees it.
And steps forward himself.
"Move," he says quietly.
They listen.
He draws his sword as he approaches.
There's no rush in him. No wasted movement. Just focus.
"Enough," he says again.
This time, it's directed at me.
He strikes.
It's faster than the others. Cleaner.
I react late—
but not too late.
A blade forms in my hand.
Dark. Solid.
Our weapons meet.
The sound rings out.
We lock there, close enough to see everything clearly.
Kane's expression is steady, but not empty. There's anger there. Concern. Something protective that hasn't faded.
Aphrodite stands just behind him, tense, caught between speaking and staying silent.
The others wait.
And I—
feel something shift again.
Not what it was before.
But something returning.
Slowly.