Unsheathed

As they blindfolded me, a strange mixture of emotions swirled in my chest. I was being led to the place where they intended to perform the ritual, and though I couldn't see, I could feel the shift in the air. The aura changed the moment I crossed into the room—a heavy, overwhelming presence that was both familiar and unsettling.

I felt it. I couldn't explain how, but I knew. The sword was there.

They guided me to kneel, placing me at the center of something significant, though my blindfold dulled the specifics. My hands brushed the cool surface of the floor, and my heartbeat quickened. I wasn't just anxious—I was sad. Knowing this was the last time I'd be here, the last time I'd feel this strange world, or see… him.

Lucius.

Even blindfolded, I knew he was nearby. His presence was undeniable, commanding even in silence. And despite myself, I hated the thought of leaving him behind. This gorgeous devil of a man had somehow worked his way into my thoughts more than I cared to admit.

The prophetess began chanting, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. I felt a surge of energy rippling through the air, and suddenly, I was weightless.

I was levitating.

The moment my body left the ground, pain exploded through me. It wasn't just physical; it was something deeper, something primal, like my very soul was being torn apart. I let out a strangled gasp, my body stiffening, and the prophetess's voice grew louder, echoing around me.

"Release her," the prophetess commanded. "Let the ties that bind this soul to this realm be severed!"

The pain surged again, sharper this time, but then—

"STOP!" Lucius's voice cut through everything.

The chant halted abruptly, and my body fell back to the ground like a ragdoll. I gasped for air, my limbs trembling. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of Lucius's boots as he crossed to me.

"Are you all right?" His voice was low, filled with concern, and I could feel the weight of his gaze even through the blindfold.

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice shaking as I tried to steady myself. "Why did you stop the ritual?"

Lucius hesitated, his silence heavier than his words could have been. The prophetess stepped in, her voice clipped. "The energy wasn't flowing correctly. The sword was positioned too close. Instead of dispersing into the ritual, all of it was funneling into your body."

I exhaled shakily, the pain in my limbs subsiding as her words sank in. Part of me wanted to believe this was the reason. That it was something technical, something fixable.

But another part of me whispered a different truth.

What if it wasn't the sword? What if this world was rejecting the idea of letting me leave? What if it wasn't just the energy flowing wrong? What if… I really was Athena?

I shook the thought away as Lucius spoke again. "We'll adjust the placement and try again."

The guards lifted me to my feet, and though my legs wobbled, I didn't protest. I was ready to try again. Ready to go back. Or at least, I told myself I was.

This time, they repositioned the sword, moving it further from me. The chanting began again, slower and more deliberate, and once more, I felt the pull.

Weightlessness. Pain. Energy.

But this time, something was different.

Instead of the searing pain tearing through me, I felt a strange lightness. It was as if the energy was lifting me, carrying me somewhere far away. My heartbeat slowed, then quickened again. The darkness around me thickened, but it wasn't suffocating—it was familiar.

This was the same darkness I'd felt when I touched the sword.

A sinking feeling settled in my chest as the world around me began to fade. It felt as though I were being dragged into that same void again, the one that had first greeted me when I arrived in this realm. Only now, I was leaving.

And yet, something in me resisted.

The darkness swirled, pulling me further, but I clung to the feeling of the ground beneath me, the memory of Lucius's voice, the strange pull of this place that felt like it was mine.

But it wasn't. Was it?

But then, suddenly, a surge of energy struck me like a lightning bolt, throwing me backwards. My back hit the wall with a sickening thud, and I crumpled to the ground, my head pounding from the impact. The blindfold slipped from my eyes, and for the first time, I saw the dimly lit chamber clearly.

My vision swam for a moment, but as it focused, my face lit up with shock and confusion. There they were—Lucius and the scarred man I'd encountered before, standing together within what looked like a shimmering barrier of magic. Around them, I recognized other figures—important ones, people who had spoken of me, argued over me, and sought to keep my presence here a secret.

But something was wrong.

The prophetess, Eskim, lay slumped on the ground, her frail body shaking as if she'd been struck by the same energy that hit me. Her lips moved weakly, barely audible over the hum of tension in the room.

And then I saw it.

A shadowy figure stood near the center of the chamber, dark energy rippling from its form like smoke. It held the sword—the very sword I'd been kneeling before moments ago. Its presence was suffocating, filling the room with an overwhelming sense of dread.

Prophet Eskim's voice broke through the silence, weak and trembling. "A… spirit."

The figure tilted its head slightly, the voice that emerged cold and sharp. "So, the rumors are true. Athena is dead. And you fools managed to pull a false soul into her body."

The words sent a shiver down my spine. False soul?

The spirit's voice deepened, dripping with malice. "Now, I will finally be able to fit into Athena's body. Can you imagine the power I will wield? The world will bow to me."

Lucius turned to me, his expression sharp and desperate as he pressed against the barrier that held him and the rest trapped. "kiiara, run!" he shouted.

His command broke through my stunned state, and I stumbled to my feet, ready to follow his order. But just as I was about to bolt, a small, familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Mom! Mom! You're awake!"

I froze, turning towards the sound. Ariel.

She was running towards me, her arms outstretched, her innocent face lit with joy. My heart clenched as her small frame barreled closer, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around her.

"Ariel, no!" I screamed, but my voice was drowned out by the spirit's low chuckle.

The spirit turned to Ariel, its hollow eyes narrowing. "Ah, I see."

With a chilling smile, it unsheathed the sword it held, its dark energy pulsing brighter. "Let me deal with this nuisance first."

Time seemed to slow as the spirit raised its blade, aiming directly for Ariel.

And then, something shifted in me.

My vision blurred, and I was no longer in the chamber. I was somewhere else—someone else.

I saw myself, standing in front of a mirror, my hands resting on a swollen stomach. I was pregnant, my reflection smiling sheepishly as I admired the life growing inside me.

Another memory.

I saw myself again, this time in Lucius's arms. My voice was filled with excitement as I whispered, "I'm pregnant."

The images kept coming—memories that weren't mine. Flashes of Athena's life, her emotions, her joy, her love for Lucius. Each moment hit me like a tidal wave, filling me with a sense of familiarity and longing that wasn't my own.

And then, I was back in the chamber.

Ariel was still running towards me, and the spirit was lunging at her, its blade poised to strike.

"No!" I screamed, and without thinking, I threw out my hand.

The sword—the one that had been placed in the middle of the ritual—reacted instantly. It trembled, as if called by some unseen force, and then it shot into my outstretched hand.

The moment my fingers wrapped around the hilt, the sword unsheathed