CHAPTER 91: THE GODDESS REAWAKENS

Athena’s pov

Reality crashed back.

Athena’s eyes flew open—and this time they weren’t just her eyes.

They were the Moon’s.

Silver-white light poured from her irises like streams of wild rivers, illuminating the dark chamber where her body had been laid.

The king’s spell cracked visibly in the air around her like shattering glass. His face, smug a second ago, now twisted in confusion—and fear.

Lucas flinched where he stood, torn between relief and horror.

And Athena?

She smiled.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t kind.

It was powerful.

And the storm was just beginning.

Moonlight Unleashed

The room was too small to contain her rage.

Power built beneath her skin, ancient and wild, older than any crown or kingdom. The silver light pouring from Athena’s eyes wasn’t just light—it was a memory made real, the echo of a goddess remembering herself after too long spent asleep.

The king’s confident smile faltered as he stepped back. "What are you—?"

Athena didn’t give him the courtesy of finishing.

With a flick of her wrist, the very air fractured. Pale arcs of moonlight screamed outward like blades, tearing through the stone floor and ripping up whole slabs of rock like they were paper. The king raised his hand, summoning his own magic, but he wasn’t fast enough.

The first arc caught him across the chest—ripping through his fine robes, slicing deep into flesh. Blood sprayed across the floor, black and shimmering in the unnatural light, sizzling as it hit the broken stones.

He roared in fury, not pain—because pain was beneath him, wasn’t it? Kings didn’t bleed. Gods didn’t fall.

But today—he would learn.

"You lied to me!" Athena shouted, voice shaking the walls.

Her power wasn’t neat or refined yet—it was raw, uncontrolled, flooding from her like a dam broken by a thousand years of betrayal. Light wrapped around her arms like living chains, spiraling into her fists, weaving through her hair, curling around her throat.

Lucas flinched as the wild power filled the room, but he didn’t move to help.

Good.

He didn’t deserve to.

"You think you can control gods?" Athena hissed, stepping forward slowly. The ground shattered beneath her bare feet with each step. "You think you can own me?"

She was across the space in an instant.

Faster than mortal sight.

Her hand snapped up and caught him by the throat, lifting his entire weight off the ground like he weighed nothing more than a broken twig. His legs kicked against the floor, scraping, struggling, magic building around his free hand.

Athena’s grip tightened. "Try it."

He tried.

Black magic flared in his palm—but the moment it sparked, the moonlight twisted around his arm like snakes, biting into his skin, searing through flesh and muscle, eating the spell alive. His scream echoed like something ancient and pathetic, and for the first time—truly—the king looked afraid.

But it wasn’t enough.

Athena wanted to break him.

His eyes flashed defiance through the pain, but she leaned in anyway.

"I am the one who watched your kingdoms rise from dust and will watch them crumble to dust again. I am the howl in the night you fear when you close your eyes. I am the Moon, and I have come to collect your debt."

And with that—she threw him.

His body slammed into the far wall with a wet, cracking sound, stone splintering under the force of the impact. He crumpled to the ground, coughing violently, spitting dark blood onto the broken floor.

Lucas finally stirred, horror written across his face. "Athena..."

"Don’t." Her voice sliced through the space like a blade. "Not yet."

She stalked toward the king, glowing brighter with each step, the silver threads of her power leaving burning trails behind her like comets in the dark.

The king tried to rise, shaking, broken ribs shifting beneath his skin—but she lifted a single finger and pressed him back down with nothing but pure will. Gravity bent around him, pushing him into the broken floor like the hand of a titan holding down a gnat.

He struggled uselessly. The magic he once wielded with such arrogance now flickered like a dying candle beneath the onslaught of her divinity.

"You tricked me," Athena whispered, and her voice sounded wrong—like a choir of voices layered beneath hers, all of them furious. "You tricked him."

Lucas flinched again but held his ground, guilt pouring from him like smoke.

"But worst of all..." Athena’s voice broke slightly, pain lancing through her ribs—but not from any wound. "You made me forget who I was."

Tears stung her eyes, not weak but fierce. Not broken but burning.

She lifted her hand—and the light gathered in her palm into the shape of a crescent blade, sharp and beautiful, spinning with slow, endless fury.

The king stared up at it, his own death reflected in his wide eyes. "You wouldn’t..."

"Wouldn’t I?" she breathed.

"You need me!" he spat, desperate now. "The other gods will come, the others—Caelum will—"

The sound of that name on his lips made something snap inside her.

The blade descended—not into his throat—but sideways, slashing through his shoulder, severing muscle and magic alike. He howled as his arm dropped limp at his side, torn useless from socket to wrist, magic sputtering into smoke.

"Tell Caelum I’ll come for him next," she snarled.

But she didn’t kill the king— yet.

Death was mercy. And she wasn’t done hurting him yet.

Instead, she bent lower, the silver light around her face growing softer, more terrifying in its control. "You are going to stay alive long enough to watch me tear down everything you built. Brick by brick. Spell by spell. And then... you will beg me for death."

She let the light dissipate slowly, leaving the taste of ozone and blood thick in the air.

The king sagged, too weak to move, too broken to fight back.

Lucas spoke softly behind her, voice wrecked. "Athena... I—"

"Not. A. Word." Her voice shook the air.