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"𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆."
Athena had always been captivated by her mother's tales of life and death, stories that carried hints of the mysterious "other side" and the elusive concept of peace.
With her mother's passing, Athena silently wished for her to have found that elusive peace. Thoughts of her mother lingering on the "other side," observing her every move, filled her with a profound discomfort.
She imagined her mother witnessing every misstep, every regrettable decision, and the burden of guilt weighed heavily upon her. She grappled with the uncertainty of what peace truly entailed.
For some, it seemed to lie in the embrace of loved ones, while for others , it stemmed from reconciliation within family. But had her mother found peace? Had Vicki?
And Sheila—had she found peace?
Death was a realm where Athena struggled to navigate. She had often found herself consumed by anger.
When her mother passed, she directed her fury towards Elena. Vicki's death brought forth a self-directed wrath. This time, she yearned to unleash her ire upon Sheila.
But the deceased couldn't bear the brunt of her emotions.
Instead, she channeled her pent-up frustration into something productive. With Sheila absent and Bonnie in need of magical assistance, Athena was determined to prove herself worthy of her ancestral magic.
Grunting, she delivered another blow to the punching bag, clad in a sports bra and leggings, her body glistening with sweat. Moving to the target, she seized three daggers, spinning the first one in her hand before hurling it at the target.
It struck true, lodging in the left side of the chest. The second dagger found its mark in the neck, while the third landed squarely in the head, eliciting a satisfied smile from Athena.
Since Sheila's demise, Athena had devoted much of her time to training in the basement of her childhood home.
Her aim, strength, and speed had all improved. She had even mastered the art of stealth, a valuable asset when hunting vampires.
Returning to the punching bag, she continued her assault until deciding to take a brief respite. As she sat down, she noticed several missed calls from an unknown number, furrowing her brows in confusion. Her phone then rang, startling her. With a hesitant hand, she answered, only to be greeted by a familiar voice.
"Finally."
"Damon? How did you get my number?"
"That's not important. I need your help," Damon's request drew a skeptical scrunch of Athena's nose. The notion of Damon seeking her aid seemed improbable, to say the least. "Yeah, that's not happening."
