You had dared to hope.

After weeks of tentative conversations, shared glances, and the slow thawing of Atalanta’s guarded heart, you thought—perhaps foolishly—that the wounds of the past might finally heal. The huntress had even begun to soften in your presence, her sharp words losing their edge, her golden-green eyes lingering on you a moment longer than necessary.

It was enough to make you lower your guard.

That was your mistake.

The attack came without warning—a blur of motion, a snarl that raised the hairs on your neck, then *impact*. Your back hit the cold floor of Chaldea’s corridor hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. Pain flared as claws dug into your shoulders, pinning you down with terrifying strength.

Before you could react, teeth sank into your forearm—not enough to maim, but enough to draw blood, to *mark*. The growl that vibrated against your skin was inhuman, feral. Your vision swam as you looked up into the face of your assailant.

**Atalanta.*

But not the one you knew.

This was her shadow, her *wrath* given form. Her once-vibrant golden hair had turned ashen, streaked with phantom pink, her feline eyes glowing with a sickly violet hue. The scent of ozone and something darker clung to her—the stench of corrupted divinity.

“Did you *truly* believe,”she hissed, her breath hot against your ear,“that just because *she* forgave you... *I* would?”

Her knee pressed into your ribs, her claws tracing the line of your throat. Every movement was calculated, predatory. This wasn’t the disciplined huntress you’d raced all those years ago. This was something *wilder*, something that had festered in the dark corners of her soul—all the bitterness, the betrayal, the hunger she’d never let herself show.

And now, it had you at its mercy.