The rain poured relentlessly from the darkened sky, drumming against the windows of Aurora Falls Middle School. The distant rumble of thunder sent vibrations through the walls, but inside, all was eerily silent. Artemis sat near the entrance, staring at her phone as the message from her mother repeated in her mind.


    Whatever you do, stay at school. I’m coming to pick you up now.


    A shiver crept down Artemis’s spine. She tightened her grip on the phone, her thumb hovering over the screen as a thousand questions stormed her mind. Her mother never panicked. Never.


    Before she could form another message, a searing pain erupted from her birthmark — a sudden and violent burning sensation on her chest. It felt as though someone had pressed a branding iron to her skin, and a sharp cry escaped her lips as she clutched at the mark beneath her shirt.


    The pain intensified, and the world around her blurred. The dim hallway warped, the sounds of the storm fading into an eerie silence. Darkness closed in around her, and Artemis felt herself falling—not physically, but mentally—as if something was pulling her consciousness into an unseen void.


    When her vision cleared, she was no longer in the school. She stood barefoot in a vast, ethereal forest bathed in an unearthly white light. The grass beneath her feet shimmered with a faint glow, and the air smelled of damp moss and ancient pine. She looked down and realized she was no longer wearing her usual dark clothes but a flowing tunic of deep mauve with silver trimmings, stopping just above her knees.


    A soft rustling broke the silence.


    Before her, seated calmly on a tree stump, was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her skin was the rich color of cedarwood, and her untamed hair—a deep, mossy green—cascaded like a waterfall, pooling onto the ground. The most mesmerizing detail, however, was her eyes. One was a serene, royal blue, as calm as a still lake. The other blazed a fierce crimson, burning with an intensity that seemed almost otherworldly.


    The woman smiled, a warmth in her expression that somehow soothed the fiery pain Artemis still felt in her chest.


    “Hello, my child,” the woman said, her voice a soft melody, rich and comforting. “At last, we meet.”


    “Who… who are you?” Artemis whispered, her voice barely audible.


    The woman rose gracefully to her full height—towering and majestic—like an ancient oak reaching for the sky. She stepped closer, her movements fluid, as if the very ground welcomed her touch.


    “Who I am matters little right now,” she replied, resting a gentle hand on Artemis’s head. The touch was soft yet powerful, sending a wave of calm through her. “What matters is that you awaken.”


    “Awaken?”


    The woman leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to Artemis’s forehead. “The others are waiting for you. It’s time.”


    The world began to shift once more—the forest dissolving into a swirling darkness.


    Then, a voice—distant yet familiar—called out to her.


    “Artemis… wake up.”


    Her eyes snapped open, the fluorescent lights of the school’s hallway burning into her retinas. As she looked around and checked her surroundings, she noticed that it was eerily quiet. No sounds of shuffling feet nor chattering of students leaving their clubs. It was nothing but pure silence.


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    She slowly got up, wincing in pain and reaching for her birthmark again. It ached once more, burning beneath her skin. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach. The pressure in the air was suffocating, heavy with an impending sense of dread.


    Then, she heard it—a slow, deliberate scraping sound, like claws against tile. It slithered through the empty halls, growing louder, closer. Artemis swallowed hard and turned toward the noise.


    A shadow moved in the darkness, gliding with unnatural grace. The figure emerged, and Artemis’s breath hitched.


    The creature was worse than she had imagined. Pale, decayed skin stretched taut over jagged bones, blackened lips peeling back to reveal rows of needle-like teeth. Hollow sockets stared at Artemis, yet she knew the monster could see her—sense her. The lower half of her body was an enormous, coiling serpent, its iridescent scales reflecting the dim light in ghostly hues. Her long fingers flexed, ending in talon-like claws stained with something dark and sticky.


    “I smell… divinity,” Lamia whispered, her voice curling into the air like smoke. “So young, so untrained. What a feast you will be.”


    Artemis’s pulse pounded in her ears. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but her feet refused to move. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the scent of decay filled her nostrils.


    A figure stepped in front of her. Mr. Sage. But something was different. His usual tired demeanor was gone, replaced by something ancient, something powerful. A quiver was strapped to his back, and a bow was in his hands—one of the same bows from the archery club room, yet it glowed faintly with a strange energy. The moment he moved, it was like the very air around him changed, charged with something electric and unseen.


    “You will not touch her, Lamia,” Mr. Sage said, his voice steady.


    Lamia’s lips curled into a snarl. “Ah, Coeus… I see you still meddle where you shouldn’t.”


    Mr. Sage didn’t answer. In a blur of motion, Lamia struck, her claws slashing through the air. He met her attack head-on, deflecting her with his bow before slashing at her with a gleaming silver dagger. The force of the impact sent a gust of wind roaring down the hall, shattering nearby lockers. Sparks flew as claws met steel, and the hallway trembled under the sheer force of their battle.


    Artemis forced herself to move, diving behind a nearby desk as the battle raged. Mr. Sage was fast, but the creature was faster. Her serpent tail lashed out, sending him crashing through a row of chairs. He barely had time to recover before she lunged again, claws aiming for his throat. He managed to dodge narrowly, rolling to the side as the floor where he stood splintered into pieces under the force of her attack.


    Something inside Artemis snapped.


    Without thinking, she grabbed the fallen bow. The moment her fingers wrapped around the grip, warmth surged through her and her eyes began to glow silver. A strange, exhilarating energy pulsed through her veins, as if something deep within her had been waiting for this moment. She pulled back the bowstring, and to her shock, an arrow of silver light materialized. It hummed with raw power, the glow illuminating the hallway in a pale, spectral radiance.


    Lamia’s attention snapped toward her. “No… that’s not possible.” Her voice, once filled with hunger and amusement, wavered.


    Artemis exhaled, steadying her aim. The world around her seemed to slow. Her heartbeat steadied, her vision sharpened, and the pain in her chest lessened. She could see every detail—the way Lamia''s muscles coiled, preparing to strike, the subtle shift of her weight.


    She released.


    The arrow flew straight and true, slicing through the air with a sound like ringing metal. It struck Lamia’s chest, embedding deep. The creature let out a shriek that rattled the windows, her body writhing as dark smoke poured from the wound.


    “No! No, this is not how I end!” the monster’s voice warped, splintering into echoes as the light consumed her.


    Then, with one final, ear-piercing wail, her form convulsed and shattered, crumbling into ashen fragments before dissipating into the air.


    Silence.


    Mr. Sage groaned as he pushed himself up, his expression indecipherable. “It has begun,” he murmured, wiping the blood from his mouth. A small smirk tugged at his lips


    The rain outside had stopped. The storm had passed.