[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/d4k4jg7Y/Asteria-Header3.png[/img][/center]
[img]https://i.ibb.co/Kc4ZhqP1/Meanwhile.png[/img]

[indent]→ The Holloway Residence – September 22, 2028 – 10:39 PM[/indent]
The girl known as Asteria, slightly hunched in her chair, clicked away at the keys of her laptop, the only real sound besides the gentle pattering of rain against her window. A single lamp illuminated her room, casting light across dozens of open tabs and articles concerning various deities of death. The glow revealed little beyond the girl herself. Her black hair blended easily into the darkness, leaving only her pale skin and green eyes highlighted against the night. In the backdrop of shadows, a trio stretched across the wall behind her. Strange, certainly, but easy enough to dismiss as an odd trick of the light.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back into the heavy office chair, turning her gaze toward the ceiling. Her thoughts drifted backward. She remembered the date well enough. How could she not?

Not after what happened.

July 31st.

Even now, she could picture it with uncomfortable clarity, as though she were looking through a pane of glass.

[hr]
The room had been empty save for her father, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and herself sitting nearby with her legs pulled up against her chest. Her father had never truly been a constant in her life, though the food, shelter, and financial security he provided certainly had been. Even if the man lying before her represented years of neglect, joining the mother who had disappeared before her first memory had even formed, she was terrified.

Part of it was simple. As much as she resented him, a small part of her still loved him. Children rarely stopped loving their parents simply because they had been hurt by them. The other part was far more practical. If he died, where would she live? How would she eat? Who would take her in? She was eighteen now, technically an adult, but that offered little comfort. Everything beyond this hospital room felt uncertain and frightening.

Honestly, the entire ordeal had shaken her to her core.

She fought to hold back tears and failed miserably. Fear gripped her heart like a vice, each frantic beat striking harder than the last. Her hands trembled. She had no friends to call, no family to lean on, and no support system waiting in the wings. Just herself. The realization sent a cold shiver down her spine. Movement near the doorway pulled her attention away from her spiraling thoughts.

At first, she assumed it was a nurse checking on her. Quickly wiping her eyes, she blinked to clear her vision. Instead, she saw a young woman standing in the doorway. The woman wore a bright yellow dress beneath an unbuttoned white swing coat, something that looked as though it belonged in the 1950s. It was strange enough that Asteria briefly wondered if she had wandered in from a costume party. Then she noticed the metal pipe lodged through the woman's throat. More importantly, she could see the nurse's station through her.

The illusion shattered instantly. Already overwhelmed and emotionally raw, Asteria found herself staring in mute horror. The nurse stationed outside noticed her reaction and hurried into the room. Straight through the woman! Asteria let out a startled squeak and nearly stumbled backward into the corner. The nurse asked what was wrong, but her words barely registered. Another figure appeared. An elderly man floated through the wall, both legs missing below the knees. Then another. And another. And another.

The room filled with transparent figures. Some watched. Some wandered aimlessly. Some didn't seem aware of their surroundings at all. The terrified teenager didn't stay long enough to learn more. With a half-choked scream, she bolted from the room.

[hr]
Asteria pressed her lips together as the memory faded. It had been two months since that night. Two months of seeing things nobody else could. Two months of catching glimpses of transparent figures in crowded stores, empty hallways, and quiet streets. She had become more accustomed to it, though "comfortable" was hardly the word she would use. She had told her father. His response had been what it always was - Distance.

So she had thrown herself into research instead. If this was a gift, she intended to figure out where it came from. Her search had narrowed the possibilities somewhat. Thanatos. Hades. Anubis. Hel. The major death deities seemed like the most obvious candidates. The problem was that nobody actually knew which myths were true and which were fiction. Gods existed. Everyone knew that now.

But that knowledge only opened the door to more questions and more possibilities. Yama. Mictlantecuhtli. Mictecacihuatl. Izanami. Yanluo Wang. The Morrígan. Donn. Ereshkigal. Nergal. Morana. Veles. The list seemed endless. Asteria groaned softly and dropped her forehead against the desk. [color=0079c9][b]"Like that even helps any..."[/b][/color]

At the same time, her father sat downstairs beneath the kitchen light, phone pressed to his ear. His voice hovered somewhere between a whisper and normal conversation. For the past several weeks, he had been searching for answers - searching for help. Searching for someone who knew what to do when an eighteen-year-old girl suddenly began seeing the dead. He knew exactly who her mother was. That was part of the problem. He had spent years trying to reach out to her and had received nothing but silence in return.

And who the hell was he, a mortal man, to raise the daughter of a goddess?