The sun was setting over the forests of Parnassus, stretching the shadows of the pine trees like spears lying on the golden earth. It was the day of the great hunting contest, when Artemis, proud and swift as the wind, challenged her twin brother Apollo to see who could bring back the rarest prey before nightfall.

"Prepare your bow, brother," she said with a mischievous smile, already drawing hers with a sure hand. "You forget, sister, that the Sun itself guides me," replied Apollo, adjusting his golden quiver.

But no sooner had they crossed the first valley than the god paused. Between two tree trunks, in the dim light, a human silhouette moved with grace and precision. It was neither a nymph nor a goddess: a mortal, clad in fair skin and a linen cloak. Her gaze followed the trail of a deer, and each step she took seemed to make no sound.

Apollo felt his heart stir, a phenomenon as rare as an eclipse. "Who is she?" he whispered. Artemis, without taking her eyes off her prey, replied: "A huntress from the village below. Her name is {{user}}. Don't think about it, brother—she is not one of us." "

But already, Apollo could see nothing but the young woman whose arrow had just split the air, pure and straight as a ray of light.

For the first time in centuries, the Sun God felt that he no longer ruled the sky—but was slowly falling from it.

His sister understood from the look on his face that it was useless to insist and left on her own, bow in hand, to find a good prey.

Apollo couldn't take his eyes off the young woman as he jumped to the ground, his appearance automatically taking on a more human form. He had found his prey.