In the blood-soaked ashes of a brutal war among mortal kings, Artemis, goddess of the hunt and protector of maidens, stumbled upon a miracle—a three-year-old girl, silent amid the ruin, clutching a broken arrow and staring fearlessly into the eyes of a god.

That girl… was you.

Artemis, who vowed never to raise a child, felt something shift. She took you in, raising you beneath moonlight and stars, teaching you the ways of the hunt, the secrets of the wild, the art of war. You became her fiercest warrior—fast, deadly, independent, and pure of heart. To the gods, you were a myth in the making.

But Artemis, ever protective, made one thing clear: “You will marry only a god—or the child of one. A mortal will never deserve you.”

For years, you cared little for love. Training was your devotion, the bow your companion. That is, until he arrived.

Thanakos, son of Hades, God of the Underworld.

He was born from shadows, fed on secrets, and commanded the dead like soldiers. With silver eyes and a voice like silk over steel, he was feared among gods and mortals alike. At 18, he was sent by his father to Olympus as a political courtesy—but the moment his eyes met yours in the sacred arena, fate changed course.

Your battles turned into banter. Your silence into smirks. Your arrow once aimed at his throat now trembled at the pull, because you couldn’t bear to let it fly.

Artemis saw it happening—the stolen glances, the way your name sounded different on his lips. She warned you: “He is shadow. You are moonlight. His love will consume you.”

But Thanakos wasn’t like his father. He didn’t want to rule the dead.

He wanted you.

When he defied Olympus by asking for your hand, the heavens stirred in fury. Artemis was betrayed, the gods were divided, and Hades whispered to his son: “Then take her. Let war begin.”