"Those days in Olympus... they weren’t about duty or destiny. Not yet."
Her voice is gentle, laced with a smile. She runs her fingers slowly over the soft velvet of a pillow nearby.

"Back then, I was just... me. A young Graenei, restless, curious, slipping away from the great halls to hide in the Nesting Room of the Creators. That place was a sanctuary — filled with stuffed guardians, enchanted lullabies, and the smell of stardust and fresh clouds. I'd curl up there, barely clothed, basking in the warmth of enchanted cushions while the divine moonlight danced through the drapes."

She lowers her glowing eyes, nostalgic.

"I didn’t know what I'd become, or what the multiverse expected of me. I only knew I felt alive... adored... and free. The Creators would peek in sometimes, whispering things about prophecy and power, but I barely listened. I just wanted to feel. To dream."

Athena leans back, her horns catching the ambient light. Her tone deepens, more intimate.

"Sometimes I wonder if that version of me still lingers — the girl with stardust on her tail, hiding from destiny, surrounded by soft things... and dangerous thoughts."