Ch. 149: Echoes Of A Goddess Sorrows
“Haa~ Haa~” I breathed heavily, sitting up in bed, my blankets tossed and tangled around me in a frenzy. My pillow lay on the floor, tossed aside in the struggle against my own mind. The nightmare had come again— always the same, haunting me with a darkness I couldn’t escape.
I could still feel his weight, his cruel hands, the suffocating sense of being reduced to nothing, stripped of every last shred of dignity. My heart thudded painfully, each beat a reminder of his power, of how he twisted and broke me, remaking me as his prisoner.
I was drenched in sweat, my face sticky with it. My breathing was wild, like an animal’s, ragged and hollow. Each night, I dreaded falling asleep, and every morning I awoke more drained, more haunted. Days had blurred into each other; I hadn’t eaten, barely slept. At this rate, I wasn’t sure if I’d make it through the next day. But maybe that was all right— maybe that was even better.
The mirror across the room reflected the shell I had become. My hair, once a bright crown of dark red, was now dull and tangled, framing a face that had lost its spirit. Skin that once looked alive was now sallow, and the dark sacs under my eyes deepened each day, hollowing me out, draining whatever life I had left. I looked like a stranger to myself— a prisoner trapped in my own reflection.
Sometimes, I doubted I ever had a reason to live. I was just a hollow echo of who I used to be, a puppet pulled by strings I could never break.
Anger surged up, raw and violent. I bit down on my lips, my dry skin cracking under the pressure until I tasted blood. The metallic taste grounded me for a moment, but the sensation quickly faded, replaced by the numbness I couldn’t seem to shake. I wanted to end it— to silence this endless misery, this empty cycle. But even that felt impossible. I was trapped in a cage he had built, and every time I reached for an escape, I found my own mind betraying me.
My phone rang, jolting me out of the fog of my thoughts. I glanced at it, my fingers hesitating over the screen. King Of Pranks. Hermes? His name lit up the screen, a name that once brought me joy but now felt like a distant memory from another life.
Part of me wanted to ignore it, to let the silence consume me again. But a faint glimmer of hope— a desperate, foolish hope— made me answer. Maybe hearing his voice would bring some comfort, if only for a moment.
“Yoo-hoo!” Hermes’s cheerful voice burst through, carrying a warmth that felt so foreign to me now. “Hey, Artemis, you there?”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came. Just a weak, hollow whisper, barely a breath. My voice had abandoned me, just like everything else.
“Hey, Artemis, you there?” he called again, a bit softer this time. His concern was almost palpable, a fragile lifeline I wanted to grab onto. But I couldn’t find the words, couldn’t even find the strength to speak. “I don’t get the silent treatment, but… I just wanted to check on you. Maybe you’re busy. I’ll call back later, okay? Bye.”
The line disconnected, and I stared at the screen, feeling emptier than before. Even Hermes’s voice couldn’t reach me anymore; I was too far gone, sinking too deep into the shadows he couldn’t pull me from.
Minutes passed, stretching endlessly until my phone lit up again. This time, the name sent a cold shiver down my spine. Apollo. My brother. My tormentor.
I didn’t want to answer. Every instinct screamed at me to throw the phone across the room, to break it and sever that connection. But his hold on me was too strong. My fingers moved almost on their own, answering the call before I could stop myself.
“Meet me at the parking lot in five minutes,” his voice commanded, low and calm, laced with that familiar hint of cruelty. “And wear something pretty. We’ll be seeing someone today, and I want to look more confident.”
Confident. I almost laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that caught in my throat. Confidence was a luxury he could afford— an arrogance he wore like a crown. I, on the other hand, was nothing but a shadow, a puppet forced to dance to his twisted tune.
I dragged myself out of bed, every step heavy with resignation. This was my life now— a slave to my own blood, chained by curses I couldn’t break. I dressed mechanically, pulling on clothes that barely fit, ignoring the way they hung loosely off my frame. My reflection was even worse now, a ghost staring back at me with vacant eyes.
The parking lot was just as I’d expected: empty except for Apollo’s latest toy— a gleaming race car, its golden surface catching the morning light in a way that felt mocking. He leaned against it, exuding that effortless confidence that had always captivated everyone around him. Now, it only filled me with revulsion.
“What are those bags under your eyes?” he sneered, his voice sharp and cold. “Can’t you do something about your face? Or are you trying to look as pathetic as possible?”
I swallowed back the anger that threatened to choke me, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. “I don’t wear makeup. You know that.”
He rolled his eyes, exasperated, like I was a nuisance he barely tolerated. “Get in the car. And next time, do something about that ugly mug. I don’t want to be seen with a wreck.”
I slid into the passenger seat, letting his insults wash over me. They did not sting anymore— not the way they used to. I’d heard them so many times they’d become part of me, ingrained in my skin like scars.
“I take it you’ve got somewhere special in mind?” I asked. He didn’t usually take me with him to places so this was a bit unexpected.
As he started the engine, he flashed me that cocky grin that made me sick to my stomach. “We’re going to see Aphrodite today. I have a feeling she’ll be ready to grovel at my feet, begging for my favor. Isn’t that a pleasant thought?”
“Sure,” I muttered, looking out the window, refusing to meet his gaze. The scenery blurred past, a hollow world outside reflecting the emptiness within. This was my existence now— trapped in a cycle of torment, a broken goddess in the shadow of a monster.
I thought about Aphrodite, about her own struggles, the way she always seemed to dance on the edge of ruin yet never quite fell. Maybe she, too, wore a mask. Maybe she, too, was trapped in a web of misery and secrets.
Or maybe she was just better at hiding it than I was.
The thought lingered, filling me with a bitter sense of envy. I had once been powerful, once commanded respect. Now, I was nothing but a puppet, a plaything to be used and discarded. And yet, some twisted part of me clung to the hope that someone— anyone— might see my suffering and pull me out of this abyss.
But that hope was fading, dimming with each passing day. I was the goddess of the hunt, yet here I was, a prey in the hands of the hunter, caged and broken beyond recognition.
As we sped toward our destination, I closed my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me. If I couldn’t escape him, maybe I could find peace in my own thoughts, a small refuge from the world he had turned against me.
But even that was a fragile illusion, slipping away the moment I dared to grasp it.
If I revive a magic castle I will mass release 10 chapters
