She awoke with the most dreadful headache, as if her brain had suddenly grown too big for her small head. This wasn’t anything unusual, the herbs and beverages involved made most rituals a headache inducing experience.

This time, it was different. It didn't feel… physical, for a lack of a better word, almost as if her soul had been torn apart.

For a moment she simply laid on the floor, coping with the pain and trying to figure out what had happened, when all her memories came flooding back.

The divination, her clumsiness, the fallen candle, the broken ritual, her panic, and that voice, that voice which had reached deep inside her, no, worse than that, that voice which had violated her, claimed her.

It’s very presence had been enough to mark her, to make her fear it, to give it power over her. She'd felt its touch in every fiber of her being, stained her as blood on white cloth, penetrating her very essence.

She could feel it, that which had taken residence in her mind, a dark, billowing fog infiltrating her thoughts, her mind, her soul.

She remembered… The voice had spoken, and then the pain was upon her, and she'd been changed.

Scrambling to her knees, she prostrated herself before the statue of the Goddess, and cried with all her might, tears of pain and terror flowing down her cheeks.

“Athena! Save me, please! My… I was attacked! By a demon! Please, I beg you, I have always been faithful! I will serve you forever, don’t let the demon claim my soul!”

And amidst her frantic cries, a miracle occurred. Her pain ceased, her terror faded, and she felt the caming the touch of a magnificent will.

Her prayers were answered, but it was not the usual, hazy picture she could barely make out, an obscure vision or vague outline of something she couldn't quite recognize.

No, this was real, a solid reality, one she could feel with every fiber of her being. A divine presence, a tangible sense of power, and a thrumming in her blood, a resonance from her bloodline, singing to welcome the Goddess.

Tears of joy replacing those of pain and fear, Dianna looked up at the deity, its face so beautiful, full of life and wisdom, a girl whose beauty seemed to transcend mortal boundaries.

Shivering, She felt the presence of the Olympian, gracefully bending down to speak in her ear, with a voice that sounded like the wind, whispering over the waves, washing over her skin. Springtime had come, effortlessly piercing through the misty darkness enveloping her soul, leaving behind a gentle warmth as bright as the dawn.

“Farewell my child, and may you be ever victorious.”

And then it was gone, the Goddess reverting back to a stone statue, and Dianna found herself alone again, her body splayed on the cold marble floor. The sensation of a Goddess' blessing lingering upon her skin faded quickly, and she found herself lying there. Kneeling motionless on the ornate marble floor, staring at nothing, a dazed expression plastered to her face.

The room was spinning around her head, the dark fog slowly creeping back into her consciousness, suffocating her thoughts, and worst of all, she could feel the grace no longer.

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Feeling dread a million times stronger than when facing that demon, she was horrified at the emptiness that now filled her heart, as if something vital had been cut from her being.

Her legs unable to carry her weight, Dianna crawled hysterically towards the edge of the room, unintelligible words falling ceaselessly from her mouth as she grabbed a ceremonial blade.

Stab.

Her pure white sleeve turned crimson, red liquid pooling on the floor beneath her, yet she hardly noticed.

She glared at her self-inflicted wound, desperately searching for a trace of her divine ascendance, but there was nothing. No hint of gold, no elusive sparkle in her blood, no crystal in her bones.

She was a daughter of Athena no longer.

No, this couldn't be. Impossible.

Howling, she brought the cruel knife to her flesh once more, cutting to the bone, as if she had looked in the wrong place, as if more pain could wake her up, and end this nightmare.

Again. And again. And again.

Dianna screamed and screamed, mindlessly shredding her arm, until her voice grew hoarse, her tear and blood soaked eyes incapable of seeing anything, her knife arm too exhausted to lift the blade once more.

All that remained was a crumbled pile of meat and bone, her dress now a mess of bloodied rags. She lay there, sobbing and wailing, blood oozing from her wounds onto the floor, oblivious to everything else.

“You need to take care of your arm, or you will bleed out. Get up, you can still save yourself”

The voice broke through her delirium, the alienness and horror it contained impossible to ignore, but she was no longer afraid. She only briefly glanced at her mangled arm, at the blood dripping from a dozen wounds, before letting out a hollow laugh.

“What use is life without the goddess? Go, demon, find someone else to torment for you won’t get me. I will be dead beforeI fall to your evil schemes!”

“Now now, my dear, there is no need for such melodramaticism. We might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I assure you, I mean you no harm. It has simply been a long time since I have conversed with anyone, and I misjudged my power.”

It was true, the more it spoke, the more pleasant the voice became, now closer to a soft roar shaking the earth instead of a fiery rake tearing through her soul.

Still, Dianna knew not to trust it, and without grace, she found little value in her continued existence. Without saying a word, she laid on her back, her breathing gradually slowing down, feeling the cold grip of death creeping up her limbs. Her eyes fixed on the Goddess effigy, she sent one last prayer, of gratitude, of apology, and of interrogation.

Why had she been forsaken? Why had the goddess not taken action upon the demon, and instead removed her blessing? Had her crime, a moment of inattention during a ritual, been so unforgivable?

“I’m sorry little girl, but it took me long enough to find a compatible soul. I’m afraid I can’t just let you die. Now close your eyes and rest, I promise you, it won't hurt much longer.”

With that, the black mist seeped out of her consciousness, gathering around her arm, wanting to merge with it, to fill her wounds and replace her blood.

Dianna was exhausted, empty, hopeless, but still she resisted, unwilling to be defiled by this vile magic. Even forsaken, she would face death with dignity, and would not let herself be corrupted by a demon.

Her will was weak, a flickering flame standing against an endless ocean, but she needed just to hold on for a while, until Thanatos came to seize her soul and bring it under the protection of Hades.

“The Goddess told you to be victorious, did she not? How is death a victory? It is clear she has plans for you, and you must toil to fulfill them, not just let yourself die at the first opportunity.”

What? Was that true? Could it be? That she was still loved, wanted? What did she have to do?

Taking advantage of her distraction, the black cloud merged with her arm, healing it, altering it, radiating hot and cold at the same time, yet she cared not. The spark in her eye had been lit once again, and she muttered the same sentence over and over again, under her breath.

“Yes, yes, the goddess has not forsaken me. This is just a trial, if I can overcome it, then I will be graced once more!”