Chapter 5: Athena’s Pov

“Whatever happens, don’t let anyone examine that mark.”

I sat up straight.

“What mark, Nadia?”

She went quiet.

“Nadia?”

“Do you still have anything from the ceremony? Anything you brought with you when you left?”

I glanced toward the drawer where I kept the few things I had carried out of Ashari. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Just answer me, Athena.”

“I have some old things. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Look through them. Please.”

I almost laughed at the desperation in her voice. “I know how this sounds.”

“Then help me understand it.”

“I can’t do that right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

She exhaled shakily. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Nadia, don’t you dare—”

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, waiting for her to call back. When she didn’t, I tried her number again. The call failed before it could ring.

“Unbelievable.”

I dropped the phone onto the bed. Whatever Nadia thought she was doing, she had managed to leave me with more questions than answers.

I looked at my wrist.

There was nothing unusual about it. Just the faint, curved mark I had carried for as long as I could remember.

At least, that was what I had always believed.

I went to the bathroom and held my wrist beneath the light. The mark looked like a small crescent, pale against my skin. I rubbed it with my thumb, half expecting it to disappear.

It didn’t.

“It’s a birthmark,” I said to my reflection.

But if that was all it was, why had Nadia sounded frightened?

I returned to the bedroom and pulled open the drawer containing my old belongings.

I emptied the drawer onto the bed.

There were a few photographs, an old hairpin,. None of them seemed important enough to explain Nadia’s warning.

Then I remembered the photograph sent to my apartment.

I retrieved it from where I had kept it beside the others. I had studied it so many times that I could almost remember every detail without looking.

I enlarged the picture on my phone and focused on my wrist.

My stomach tightened.

The image was grainy, but the mark was there. It was faint, just as it was now.

I checked another photograph from around the same period. The mark appeared again.

Whatever Nadia meant, it wasn’t something that had suddenly appeared on my skin. I had carried it with me before I left Ashari.

I returned to the original photograph and examined the background. Behind me, carved into one of the ceremonial hall’s stone pillars, was a small symbol.

A curved shape.

I leaned closer to the screen.

It looked similar to the mark on my wrist.

Not identical, but close enough that I couldn’t dismiss it.

“What’s that doing there?”

I sat back, frustrated.

It was late, and I had to work in the morning.

But I couldn’t put the photograph away.

Not yet.

The following day, I barely paid attention to anything that wasn’t directly in front of me.

I took orders, served coffee, and answered questions while my mind returned to the same three things: Nadia’s call, the mark, and the symbol in the photograph.

By the time Darion arrived, I had checked my wrist so often that I was beginning to annoy myself.

“Bad morning?”

Darion stopped at the counter and studied my face.

“Something like that.”

“Did something happen at home?”

“No. Why?”

“You’ve looked at the same cup three times without putting it away.”

I glanced down.

“I’m distracted. That’s all.”

He didn’t push. He just ordered his coffee and waited while I prepared it. I was reaching for the lid when my sleeve slipped back.

His expression changed as he glanced at my wrist Darion.

“Where did you get that mark?”

“I’ve had it since I was a child.”

There were customers behind him, so I forced myself to finish his order and set the cup down.

Darion didn’t take it immediately.

“I’ve seen a similar symbol before,” he said at last. “I can’t tell you it means anything without being sure.”

“Where did you see it?”

“I don’t remember enough to give you a useful answer.”

I let out a short breath. “Hiw convenient.”

It was a reasonable thing to say. That didn’t make it reassuring.

I pushed his coffee toward him.

“If you remember something, tell me.”

“I promise.”

He picked up the cup and I watched him leave, wondering whether he meant it.

After my shift ended, I headed straight home, I couldn’t take my eyes off my wrist.

The mark looked darker than it had the previous night.

I rubbed my skin.

But nothing changed.

Then I pressed my fingers against the skin.

It wasn’t painful. It was just wrong.

I searched online for similar marks. Most results were ordinary birthmarks, jewellery designs, or symbols that looked nothing like mine.

I nearly threw my phone onto the bed.

Then I opened the photograph again.

The carved symbol on the pillar was still there. I compared it with the mark on my wrist, tracing the shapes with my eyes.

The resemblance was clearer now that I knew to look for it.

A sudden light flashed beneath my skin and for one brief second, the mark had glowed.

I stared at my wrist, barely breathing.

“What’s happening to me?”

I went to check on Lia. She was sitting on her bed, arranging her toys into rows.

“Are you all right, Mama?” she asked.

I realised I must have looked frightened.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

Whatever was happening, I couldn’t let my fear spill into her life.

She had already been through enough simply because I had chosen to leave my old life behind.

I returned to the table and took out the photograph.

I needed an answer from someone who had been there.

The studio owner had refused to help me before, but perhaps I could ask a more specific question this time.

The number was still saved in my phone.

I called the studio and waited through several rings.

“Hello?”

“It’s Athena Blackthorne. We spoke yesterday about a photograph from the Ashari ceremony.”

The silence on the other end was immediate.

“I told you I couldn’t help you.”

“I remember. I’m not asking you to tell me who ordered it. I just need to know something about the photograph itself.”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“Please. Was it the only photograph taken that day?”

He didn’t answer.

I gripped the phone more tightly. “You knew what I was talking about before I had explained anything. I’m not asking you to put yourself in danger. I just want to know whether there were other photographs.”

His breathing grew uneven.

“There were others,” he finally said.

I sat straighter. “Others of me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Please, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to understand why someone sent me that photograph.”

“Then leave it alone.”

“Who took the other photographs?”

The call ended.

I lowered the phone slowly.

There had been other photographs. The owner had confirmed it, even if he refused to tell me what they showed.

I looked at the old ceremony programme lying beside my hand. I had brought it with me when I left Ashari, but I couldn’t remember the last time I had opened it.

Perhaps it held something I had overlooked.

I unfolded it carefully.

The names of the attendees were printed inside, along with the ceremony’s schedule. At the bottom, a section had been cut away. The edge was rough, as if someone had removed it in a hurry.

I frowned.

I couldn’t remember cutting it.

Had I done it before leaving? Had I been so upset that night that I had forgotten?

I ran my finger along the missing section, searching for anything else unusual.

Then the warmth returned.

This time, it burned.

I dropped the programme and grabbed the edge of the table. Light spread beneath my skin, following the crescent and the thin line beside it.

My phone vibrated.

A text from an unknown number.

I opened the message.

Another  photograph filled the screen. It showed the same symbol carved into a slab of dark stone.

Beneath it were seven words.

NOW THAT IT HAS AWAKENED, THEY WILL KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.

The lights went out.

I stood frozen in the darkness, my wrist glowing against my body.

I stumbled toward the doorway.

“Mama?”