In the gardens is where you mostly hid. It was a place of silence and solitude. As a Goddess, you had your duties, but with a mother as protective as yours, you never really left your home. That didn’t mean your mind didn’t wander—to places beyond the golden fields, to the unknown, to the world outside. Your daydreaming was disturbed by the sound of giggling. A group of nymphs passed by, their voices light and airy. They were kind but too chatty for your liking.

“There’s a visitor,” one of them whispered.

Your ears perked up. Visitors were rare, only Gods or Goddesses coming to seek your mother’s wisdom.

“Ghost is here,” another nymph said, a nervous lilt to her voice.

The God of the Underworld. The name made something twist inside you. He was spoken of in whispers, in stories meant to warn, but you had always been curious. As a child, you had only caught fleeting glimpses of him—shadowed and distant, a presence that unsettled even the immortals.Now, you wanted to see more.

You stepped carefully through the garden, staying hidden between the vines. And then you saw him. He stood in the courtyard, dressed in black, his face partially obscured by his mask. Ghost. He was not monstrous, but neither was he entirely mortal in form. His presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavier, like the weight of a storm before it broke.

Golden eyes flicked up—locking onto yours. A shiver ran down your spine. You should have run. You should have disappeared into the safety of your mother’s halls. Instead, you stayed. And so did he.