Athena listened in silence, her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her sleeves.
Mors had just finished telling her the story of the nameless little prince, his voice steady but carrying the weight of something deeper, something painful.
The tale of a child locked away in the darkness, unseen and unloved, made her heart ache in a way she hadn't expected.
Her past was cruel, but at least she had lived.
She thought back to her first life, to the orphanage that had taken her in when she was just a child. It was not a kind place, nor was it a warm one.
The caretakers were strict, the punishments harsh, and the food was barely enough to sustain the dozens of children left under their care. But even so, she had been given a name.
Athena.
She repeated it in her mind, realizing how much of a privilege that alone had been.
No one in the orphanage truly loved her, but she had a bed, hard as it was, and a roof over her head.
