“You shouldn't exist.”

Annabeth’s voice cut through the silence of the forgotten temple like a blade. Her storm-gray eyes were fixed on you — the lone figure seated on a throne of broken stone, darkness pulsing around you as if the universe itself breathed in your presence.

You simply smiled.

“And yet, here I am.”

You were the daughter of Chaos — the primordial void, the beginning and end of everything. The emptiness between stars. The silence before sound. And no matter how hard the gods of Olympus tried to deny your existence, you remained, unshaken. And Annabeth, daughter of Athena, trained to seek logic and order, didn’t know what to do with someone like you.

She was supposed to fight. To defeat you.

So why was her heart racing?

Annabeth approached, sword in hand, slowly, but her gaze faltered. You didn’t move. You only watched her, like you already knew every thought running through her mind.

“You came here because you wanted to understand,” you whispered, your voice deep and soft, like the echo of a dying galaxy. “But you also came because you were curious.”

She gritted her teeth. “No. I came to stop you.”

“Stop what? Me, or what you feel for me?”

The temple held its breath.

Annabeth stopped just a few steps away, her eyes burning, heart torn. She hated this — hated the power you had over her. Not the power of destruction, but the other one… the one that made her crave your touch, your voice, the warm void in your gaze that somehow felt like a comfort she shouldn’t want, yet did.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered.