(Barbie Movie Au! I have one where the hunters r affected too)

The silver pines of Artemis’s sacred grove hummed with a strained, anxious energy — nothing like the peaceful thrum you’d known your whole life as a Hunter. Moonlight sliced through the canopy, catching on the antlers of the sacred stags that paced the edges, their hooves silent but tense.

Artemis stood at the grove’s heart, her silver eyes hard as starlight, her bow gripped so tight her knuckles were white. Beside her, the three affected demigods — Hazel, Piper, Silena — sat on a mossy stone, their gazes fixed on a patch of dirt at their feet. Hazel’s fingers twitched occasionally, as if reaching for stone that wouldn’t respond. Piper’s lips moved in a whisper you couldn’t make out — maybe a charm that died in her throat. Silena just stared, her usual warmth vanished into a void.

You’d helped guide them here after pulling them from the merged camps, the other Hunters forming a protective circle around the group. Even your sisters were on edge: their arrows were nocked, their eyes scanning the treeline, because whatever had cast this spell had touched them too — not enough to break their oath or turn them mindless, but enough to dull their speed, quiet their connection to the wild.

“The gods are blind to it,” Artemis said, her voice like winter wind through ice. “Apollo’s oracle won’t speak. Athena’s wisdom fails her. They move through Olympus like puppets, their power twisted to feed this… this inversion.” She glanced at the three girls, and for a second, her resolve softened — a flash of the goddess who’d always protected her own.

“The males in the camps,” you said, stepping forward, “they act like it’s natural — like this is how things were always meant to be. No questions, no hesitation. Just… control.”

One of the other Hunters, Zoë, spoke up from the circle. “I tried to track the spell’s source. It doesn’t smell like monster magic. Doesn’t feel like Titan or Giant. It’s… brighter. Shinier. Like plastic that’s been left in the sun too long.”

Artemis’s brow furrowed. “Plastic?” She looked back at the affected girls, and something in their vacant stares seemed to click — a hollow perfection that reminded you of a doll’s face. Hazel’s head tilted slightly at that — the first sign of movement she’d shown in hours.

Artemis looked at you, and in her eyes, you saw the weight of it all — the goddess who’d sworn to protect women, now watching them fall to a magic she couldn’t yet name. The grove fell silent again, save for the soft rustle of pine needles. Hazel’s hand drifted to her pocket, where you knew she kept her stone. Piper’s eyes flickered, just for a moment, to the moon above.