Dinner was quiet. What was three months here, seemed like years to Athena. She raised the silver fork to her mouth, swallowing the food like it was rocks.
Her father sat across from her, talking with her mother. Her mother nodded along, sitting in front of Athena.
Athena tapped her buckled shoe impatiently, her mouth was opened, ready for a question but none came to mind.
How do I even ask a question like that?
Athena cleared her throat. “Mother, you had siblings, right?”
Mother nodded gently. “Yes my dear,”
“Why don’t I?”
Her father nearly choked on his chicken, mother looked up. She adjusted herself in her seat, before smiling at Athena.
“What has brought up this question?”
Athena shrugged, deciding to play dumb. “I dunno, I just thought you guys wouldn’t want me to be lonely,”
Her father cleared his throat. His warm eyes softened on her.
“Of course Little lily, we just thought you’d enjoy the sil-” Her mother stomped her heel on his boot.
“Athena, what has brought this up?” Her mothers voice wasn’t a question, it was a demand. Her mother was out of her seat and looming over Athena. Her father was already at Athena’s side.
“Eudoria, please.” He begged her.
Her mother scowled, before asking her father to the other room.
As the wooden door slammed. She cracked herself a grin, and slid out of her seat. The satin carpet curled up by her shoes. Her braided hair had its frilly ends poking up.
She peeked her eyes through the lockhole of the door. But that wasn’t a good view. Athena cracked the door open just barely, when the conversation became crystal clear.
“My dear, she started talking about him. That monster that came into our lives–” Her mother whispered urgently, her smile seemed more gentle?
“He wasn’t a monster!” Her father argued, pity drowned his voice.
Her mother spun around. Her voice was full of hatred. “You saw what he did to her, he is the reason she didn’t make it!” Tears fell from her mother's cold eyes, that maybe weren’t always cold.
Athena kept her distance from the door, but close enough to hear every last word. Her mothers gaze flickered to the door for a minute, before steadying back on her father.
“I know you're upset, I know you're angry at him. But he was just a child. What could he do?” her father crossed his arms, looking down.
Her mother clenched her fists. “He could’ve listened to us! And stayed away!”
As the arguing pair began to come closer to the door, Athena zoomed back to her seat. She picked her fork and acted like she had been enjoying her food as her parents seated themselves. Her mother sighed before she spoke.
“Forgive my dear, I spoke out of terms.” She placed her hand to her chest, fidgeting with the jade necklace wrapped around her neck. “We wanted a sibling for you, like a sister or older brother, but you always seemed to prefer to be alone. Even when your lady’s maid would come to help you get ready you always disliked when she came.” Her mother faked off a gentle laugh. Soft but dangerous. Gentle but sharp.
Athena faked off a gentle laugh as well. “Ah yes! I understand.” A smile spread across her porcelain face.
Her father laughed, it was quite obvious it was forced. “Splendid my dears.”
-------------------------------------------
The lantern was lit dimly on her nightstand as she flipped through the pages. She turned the little novel on the lantern that made it shine brighter. Athena squinted at the smudged and poorly written inky words. This had to have been some mistake, surely it must be.
Though the answer was practically being held in her hands, one question remained.
Where was Ares now?
She kept turning the pages, squinting, like it was written in disappearing ink. The door opened, her father slid in. He plopped himself down beside her. With panic, she hid the journals under her covers, playing a fake smile like she was a card dealer.
“Little lily, what are you reading?” Her father asked, raising an eyebrow.
Her smile brightened, she was playing all queens. “Oh nothing, just some books I found in the library, ones about fairies and knights. I love them so,”
Her father patted her heartily on the back. “I’m glad. Don’t spend all night reading. Goodnight Little lily,” He smiled warmly.
She waved as he shut the door. Her smile dropped and she yanked the book back on her lap. Reading more and more pages.
Dear diary, Ares is back again!
Little Athena is so tiny!Much tinier, than anyone expected. The medic, Edwynn,(I call him Eddie,) says it's ‘very peculiar’ for her. That's a weird word, ‘peculiar’. I don’t know what it means. Maybe I should go to the library later and look. Well anyways, yes, Athena is very tiny compared to other babies. Maybe that's why dad calls her ‘Little lily.’ I think the name is because how mother loves lilies!
I’ll write soon, goodbye!
Athena flipped the next page, her messy ink hair drooping over like a melted candle.
Dear diary, it's me.
I wish this was as cheerful as my previous entries. For some reason, my mother won’t let me get anywhere close to Athena. I overheard her and father talking, and she said it's because of my..Nevermind, I don’t want to talk about it. I won’t be writing anytime soon, unless it's an emergency.
Athena flipped the next pages. Surely he wrote something else?Right? But no, the pages were as empty as a blank canvas. I need answers, so where the hell are they?!
She slammed the book into her nightstand drawer, before dimming the lantern a bit more. She curled into her cotton sheets, like maybe she would wake up, and Orion would be outside in the courtyard. Or Ysmara would be braiding flower crowns. But no, when she opened her eyes she was still in her bed. The night sky outside, not Orion. Flowers whistling in the wind, without Ysmara.
Nothing here, was normal. Nothing here was how Athena was used to. Everything swirled in her mind at once. She needed to figure out how to leave this place. Maybe if she had put the gems together again?
That might work, but where were the gem pieces? After she put them together, they kinda just..disappeared.
She wouldn't be here forever, right?
No, she had to escape. Hubris planned this. Arnaki’s little backstory was fake. All of this was one big illusion. She just needed to find where her real body was.
And hopefully, she could find Ares too.
-------------------------------------------
Dim sunlight peered through the satin curtains. Same from the mimicking days before. Muffled chatter came from beyond the windows. Some people might think it hurts the most when you're injured, physically. But, based on what Athena’s seen. It hurts, to think, this place, this alleged paradise, was all a sham.
But then, her lady’s maid rushed in. Vega, Athena believed her name was.She had brown curls that bobbed when they walked. She was dressed in a black and gold dress with puffy sleeves and a black laced hairpiece.
“Lady Athena? Your mother has requested you in the library,” Her bright grin faded as she saw Athena was still in bed, messy hair, wrinkled night gown.
“Madam!Have you not gotten up yet?” Vega scolded. She rushed over and pulled Athena out of bed, placing her wobbly feet on the ground.
Athena wiped her eyes and went over to her closet. Vega grabbed a brush from her nightstand. Running back over to Athena. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor. Before trying to untangle all the knots in her wild inky hair. After her hair was smooth-ish, Vega began to braid it. She reached for a gold ribbon on her nightstand to braid Athena’s hair with. After a long braid was flowing down Athena’s back. Vega left the room.
“Thank you Ms.Vega,” Athena murmured groggily.
She wiped her eyes again, before picking out a simple white ruffled sleeved dress, with a red vest above it with golden embroidery. Athena laced her boots together and walked to the library.
Her boots dragged across the carpets as she walked to the library. As she peeked through the door, she noticed her mother standing in one of the aisles, reading a book. Athena made her way in, joining her mother. A gentle smile crossed her face.
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“Darling, wonderful to see you're finally up.”
Athena nodded. “Did you need something?”
Eudoria slid the book that was in her hand back into the shelf. She began to walk down the aisles, waiting for Athena to catch up. Athena followed, eyeing the passing books. Her mothers voice was as silent as a whisper.
“I found a book, I’d think you’d like.”
Three more aisles they walked through. Athena’s mother not looking up from the ground. It wasn’t until they reached the very last row, hidden by the shadows and dust of time. Eudoria raised a gloved hand and plucked one leathery book from its place.
“War diaries.” She smiled at the book. “Ms.Vega has taken notice of your fascination with books lately, so I wanted to show you some I was in love with when I was your age.” She handed the book to Athena.
Athena flipped through the first pages, before her mother started talking again.
“I know you're young. But I hope this excels your level in reading, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. And if not, I’m sure Ms.Vega would love to read them to you.” Eudoria laughed gently.
That's a word Athena would always use to describe her mother. Gentle. It suited her. But so did dangerous.
“Thank you mother, I appreciate it.”
Her mother let out a small sigh of relief. Perhaps this was her way of apologizing. “I’m glad. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” She exited, folding her gloved hands.
As Eudoria’s footsteps descended, Athena searched through countless other diaries. What if there was a diary of the Battle of Azbeth?! Maybe, just maybe..
-------------------------------------------
Athena spent the entire day reading the diaries. Hubris could have left her a message. Hubris is the kind to leave clues to his riddles. And Athena would solve every last one.
She sat in the corner, sitting upon a throne of books, journals and diaries. She was resolute to find anything that would help. What if Fylakes Glysínis needed help. Knowing Hubris, he could’ve done this, just to keep her away from the main fight he was planning for Fylakes Glysínis. But, surely they could take whatever he sent after them.
They could.
Athena snapped out of her thoughts. Getting back to her reading. Nothing. Not one mention of the Battle of Azbeth.
She slammed the last book back into the shelf. Athena got up, brushed the dust from her dress and left the aisle.
Just as she was about to leave the library, Ms.Vega rushed to her. Her brown curls bobbed over her shoulder.
“Ms.Athena!Your mother wanted me to give this to you,” Ms.Vega gave her a diary.
“Thank you Ms.Vega.” Athena smiled as she left.
Athena nodded and walked to her room. Or so Ms.Vega thought. Athena had seen this book before in the attic. The same golden and red letters.
She waited until she was out of Ms.Vega’s line of sight. Before fast-walking towards the attic. Athena lifted the book slightly, reading the title.
Order of the unnatural.
She stopped.Order of the unnatural. . That wasn’t the title of the book that was in the library. If her mother did (supposedly) find it in the attic, why was the title different?
This wasn’t the same book. And if it was a different book, what was it about?
She raised the book until it was hovering below her chin, and carefully, but surely flipped to the first page.
Transformation is not creation. It is correction. What exists already contains the shape it will assume.
Materials Required: Salt
Wax
Thread
Blood
A vessel
A witness
Preparation: The subject must be isolated from unnecessary presence. Mirrors are to be covered. The vessel is placed at the center, empty and upright.
The witness must remain silent.
Procedure: The circle is drawn as shown in Figure 1. Salt is applied sparingly. Wax is softened but not melted. Thread is measured, not cut.
The subject is introduced last.
The sequence is spoken once, without interruption. Movement must be deliberate. Hesitation alters outcome.
Observation: Change may not be immediately visible. This does not indicate failure. Resistance is expected.
Correction: If alignment falters, repetition is permitted. Substitution is acceptable.
After: The original state should not be sought. What remains is sufficient.
Surely this is wrong. Why would her mother give her this?This was wrong—no, this whole book's existence was wrong. Athena had been told magic existed, pure magic..But this was not pure magic. This was the opposite.
-------------------------------------------
Athena had been in her room all day flipping through the countless pages of the journal. She hadn’t seen her mother, even when she left to go down to the kitchen for some snacks.
A couple times her father came in and asked what she was reading. She played it off, saying it was just war diaries her mother had shown her. She wasn’t completely wrong with the last part.
But the other pages had not been any less disturbing.
Binding spells, Continuance, Silence. Each spell is more terrifying than the last.
Athena waited until the corridors were silent, the low hum of the manor settling into a muted heartbeat. The servants had disappeared from the hallways, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire in the library hearth far below. She clutched the book tighter, its cover warm and leathery under her fingers. Order of the Unnatural. Her pulse drummed against her temples.
The stairs to the attic creaked under her careful steps. Each wooden plank groaned like the house itself was warning her to turn back. But Athena didn’t. She had to know. She had to see the source of this darkness her mother had quietly introduced into her life.
At the top, the attic smelled of dust, varnish, and something metallic that made Athena’s stomach tighten. Moonlight spilled through the grimy windows, casting fractured shadows across crates, bundles of old fabric, and stacks of long-forgotten books. Here, in this hidden corner of the house, secrets could hide. Athena slid the book onto an old oak table, its surface scarred with age and the faint outline of candles long extinguished.
She flipped the pages carefully. Order II: On Binding. Her breath caught. Unlike Order I, this one was insistent, cruel in its neutrality: it treated the merging of wills, of lives, of bodies as if it were simply a math problem. Nothing moral, nothing hesitant, just procedure. Athena felt a cold prick of fear as her mind wandered. Her mother... had she ever performed this?
The margins were filled with notes, scribbled in cramped, precise handwriting. Athena leaned closer:
“Resistance is part of the equation. Do not hesitate.” “Substitution permitted. Failure is not fatal...yet.”
Her small hands trembled slightly. This wasn’t child’s play. This wasn’t the fairytale magic of old books. This was darkness made methodical.
She turned the page. Order III: On Preservation. It described stopping decay, halting deterioration of body or object, leaving the subject in a state “between.” Athena’s stomach turned. The words made her imagine frozen, liminal shapes–things trapped, alive yet not alive.
The candle she had lit flickered, though there was no wind. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the attic walls, and Athena’s tiny figure felt dwarfed in the expanse. Her mind raced: Her mother...this is what she’s been doing? Is this why she acted so... strange?
Athena’s gaze drifted to a trunk tucked beneath the eaves. She hadn’t noticed it before. Its surface was covered in scratches, as if something had tried to claw its way out. Something about the book drew her to it, and with a quiet huff, she pulled it toward her. The lock was broken, hanging loosely from one hinge. Inside were dozens of papers: diagrams, sketches of circles, lines connecting human silhouettes, hands, and eyes. Athena’s finger traced a single circle drawn in crimson ink, and a chill ran down her spine. The same shapes... she had seen these somewhere.
A sudden noise behind her made Athena spin. A shadow moved across the far corner of the attic. No one should be here. She froze, clutching the book to her chest. The air was too cold. Too still. The sound of breathing—hers?—felt wrong. The attic felt alive, or perhaps aware.
She returned to the table, forcing her hands to steady. She flipped further through Order of the Unnatural, skipping ahead to Order VI: On Continuance. The instructions were mechanical.
“Extend the process. Do not stop. Cease only when correction has been achieved.”
Athena felt a shiver crawl along her spine. This is what my mother is...she’s using this against people. She thought of her father, so gentle, so human. Was he ever involved?
Her mind, small but seasoned with fourteen years of reasoning, pieced it together slowly: this wasn’t a world of accidents. This alternate reality—the perfect halls, the soft smiles—was constructed. Carefully. Purposefully. Every moment, every interaction, was likely measured. Even the journals. Even the lessons.
Athena leaned back and noticed something else: the moonlight struck the pages in a certain way, illuminating letters that weren’t in the main text. Tiny annotations almost invisible to the casual reader.
“Do not fail the child.” “Must remain within the house.” “The pattern is complete only with the heir’s understanding.”
Athena felt her chest tighten. The heir? That’s me. She had been trapped here, watched, guided... perhaps tested. And her mother, the gentle, dangerous Eudoria, was at the center of it.
Shivers crawling down her spine, Athena flipped the next pages. Order VIII: On Silence. It instructed the practitioner to suppress objection, to erase memory of resistance, to ensure compliance. The thought of it made Athena’s jaw clench. She had been compliant so far... perhaps only because she had no choice.
The attic seemed to darken further. Athena noticed a small bundle beneath the table—a folded cloth tied with a crimson ribbon. Inside were fragments of hair, dried and brittle, some dark, some nearly white. Notes scattered between them bore titles like:
“Subject: Unnamed. Duration: 3 cycles. Result: Partial.” “Second subject completed. Resistance noted. Adjust concentration.”
Athena’s stomach turned violently. These weren’t experiments. They were... procedures. People, innocent people. Her small hands clenched around the book, her mind racing. She remembered the glimpses of faceless creatures, the BloodRots, the other dimension’s horrors, the real dimensions horrors.. They were distant, yes, but their logic now made sense: her mother was using the Order to shape this reality, to maintain control, to prevent deviation from the intended pattern.
Her eyes fell on the last visible page: Order X: On Completion. Its instructions were merciless. Once begun, there was no stopping. No reversal. The note in the margin read:
“Finality ensures safety. Interruption invites chaos. Completion is mercy.”
Athena felt her hands shake. Mercy? This is madness.
The attic suddenly felt suffocating. She heard the faintest whisper, like silk brushing against the floorboards:
“Little Lily...”
Athena froze. She knew that voice. But no one was there. Shadows flickered across the rafters, elongating impossibly. The hair on the back of her neck stood. She hugged the book to her chest and realized something horrifying: this place, the people she thought were her family, the house itself—they were instruments. All instruments in a ritual far older and darker than she had imagined.
Her mind screamed: she needed answers. She needed Ares. She needed a way out. And now... she needed to understand the full scope of what her mother—what Eudoria—was capable of.
With trembling legs, Athena stood and crept further into the attic. Dust motes danced in the pale moonlight, settling on more crates, more forgotten books. One chest, larger than the rest, sat in the center of the room. A rusted keyhole glinted. Athena approached it slowly, heart hammering. This...this had to be the final piece. Perhaps the key to understanding the Order in its entirety. Perhaps the key to escaping.
And as her small fingers brushed the cold metal, a sudden thought struck her, sharp and terrible: If my mother finds me here...she won’t stop at warnings.
Athena swallowed, bracing herself. The attic was silent—but she could feel the pulse of the house around her, alive and watchful. And somewhere, deep in the shadows, the Order was waiting for her to take the next step.
