Maria Ying

She is sixteen years old and she is kneeling to die.

The words hook into the soft meat of her desperation. Matter. Essential. Changed everything. Every shameful secret desire she’s ever harbored, every pathetic fantasy of being special, of having worth and a reason to exist beyond simply existing—Athena is offering it to her wrapped in divine purpose. Four years. Four years of being someone important instead of the broken thing her mother tried to create. Four years of serving a cause greater than her own miserable survival. It would mean her entire stupid, painful life led somewhere. Meant everything. That every loss, every humiliation, every moment of wanting to disappear was preparation for this singular purpose.

She already knows she’s going to say yes. The certainty sits in her chest like ballast, steadying her even as tears streak her face. How could she possibly refuse? This is everything she ever wanted, delivered by a god who saw her falling and decided she was worth catching.