I was Apollo’s most devoted follower, the lover he handpicked from a sea of worshippers.

With me, he’d always shed his divine arrogance. He was so tender, so attentive. I actually thought he loved me to the bone.

Until seven days before our Consort Ceremony, when I used my gift of prophecy to peek into our future together.

I expected to see a lifetime of blinding love. Instead, I saw him violently tangled in the sheets with my adopted sister, Cassandra.

Wrapped around him, Cassandra giggled. "You're so good to me, my Lord. Thanks to you, I'll finally get my sister's Sight and take her place as High Priestess."

And Apollo—my god, my lover—smiled down at her with pure adoration. "Whatever makes you happy, little bird. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have played pretend for this long, let alone allow her to become a god's consort."

In that split second, my heart turned to ash. My faith shattered into a million pieces.

With seven days left until the ceremony, I didn't confront them. Instead, I fell to my knees before the altar of Hades, Lord of the Underworld.

"I offer you my gift of prophecy. I will be your most loyal follower in exchange for your sanctuary."

"Please. Take me away from here. Take me somewhere Apollo can never find me."

"Are you certain you want to trade your most precious gift for the Underworld's protection?"

A chilling, low voice echoed through the temple.

Hades materialized from the shadows. He was the King of the Dead, radiating a biting cold that felt entirely out of place in the Temple of Light I’d served for two years.

"I'm sure," I said, a little shocked he had answered in person. But I quickly took a deep breath and steadied my voice. "As long as I can leave this place, I'll give up everything."

Hades stared at me, his eyes as deep and dark as the Abyss.

After a moment, a soft chuckle slipped past his lips.

"The Underworld does not prey on souls backed into a corner." He raised a hand, an obsidian ring gleaming on his finger, and with a flick of his wrist, he rejected my sacrifice. "Keep your Sight, Lyra. Go and sever your mortal ties. In seven days, I will come for you myself."

The black mist dissipated, and he vanished into thin air.

Before I could even process the overwhelming aura of the Underworld King, a blinding golden light burst into the room.

It was a message from Apollo.

"Lyra, it's the family dinner tonight. Cassandra misses you so much. Don't be late—how about I come pick you up?"

His gentle voice echoed through the hall, but it only made my stomach turn.

Just a week ago, giddy with excitement for our future, I had looked into our married life. I didn’t find the sweetness I was hoping for. Just a filthy truth.

In the vision, right there on our marital bed, Apollo had Cassandra pinned beneath him. His radiant golden hair tangled with her dark locks as they gasped and writhed together.

That was the moment my two years of absolute devotion turned into a sick joke.

No wonder he was in such a rush to bond with me. He just wanted to strip me of my prophetic powers and transfer them to Cassandra.

No wonder Cassandra always found an excuse to touch him.

"No need. I'll go by myself."

I coldly rejected his offer and walked to the dinner alone.

The moment I pushed open the doors to my family's estate, the laughter inside instantly died.

"Well, if it isn't our High Priestess, finally gracing us with her presence," Cassandra sneered from the dining table, raising a brow. "Making Mother, Father, and me wait for you... your ego is really getting out of hand, Lyra."

I looked at our parents at the head of the table.

Both Cassandra and I were adopted. Years ago, they had lost their biological daughter. When they found the two of us, we both shared striking similarities to their missing child, so they took us both in.

But in the end, they publicly claimed Cassandra as their true blood.

And I was just the foster kid.

Even though deep down I knew I was their real lost daughter, the way they looked at me was always laced with disgust and coldness. Even as the High Priestess, soon to be a god’s wife, it didn't change the fact that they despised me.

"Lyra, get on your knees and apologize for your arrogance, right now!" my mother slammed her hand on the table, barking at me. "Your sister spent all day preparing for this dinner, and you purposely show up late? Do you think marrying a god gives you the right to disrespect us?"

Once upon a time, desperate for their love and validation, I would have lowered my head and apologized.

But now? If I had to sever my mortal ties, I didn't need this worthless excuse for a family anymore.

"No," I said flatly.

My father scowled, about to yell at me, when the hall suddenly bathed in brilliant golden light.

Apollo had arrived.

Dazzling as always, haloed in divine glory. "What's going on?" he frowned slightly.

Before I could even open my mouth, Cassandra’s eyes welled with tears. She lowered her head, looking utterly victimized. "Lord Apollo... it's my fault. I made my sister mad..."

Apollo didn't even glance at me. Out of habit, he pulled a glowing blue gemstone from his pocket and offered it to Cassandra.

"Don't cry, Cassie. Here, the Deep Sea Star. You said you wanted it last time. Smile for me, hm?"

Staring at that gem, my blood ran ice-cold.

I had begged Apollo for a whole year to find that stone to help stabilize my prophetic magic.

And now, he casually handed it over to Cassandra just to coax a smile out of her.

"Thank you, Lord Apollo!" Cassandra beamed through her fake tears, tilting her chin at me in pure provocation.

Seeing this, my parents smiled even brighter.

I used to think Apollo was so approachable with my mortal parents because he loved me. Now I realized all his patience and charm were just to keep Cassandra happy.

Apollo finally turned to me. Noticing something was off, his brow furrowed in faux concern. "Lyra, you look so pale. Are you feeling unwell?"

I tried to force a smile, but my eyes caught movement under the table. Apollo’s fingers were tightly interlaced with Cassandra’s.

Her fingertips were tracing slow, teasing circles on his skin.

Above the table, he was the high and mighty God of Light, the caring fiancé.

Beneath it, he was raw and intimate with my sister.

I gripped my fork so hard the metal bit into my palm. Blood slid down my fingers, dripping onto the freezing floor.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and told myself: Just hold on. Once you leave this place, it'll all be over.

After the dinner, I silently followed Apollo back to his temple.

The air smelled of faint laurel—a scent that used to bring me peace, but now just made me sick.

Apollo pulled me into his arms, using his divine magic to heal the cut on my hand.

"Oh, my Lyra. Don't be sad," he murmured softly. "I know your parents are biased, and it's unfair to you. I swear on my divinity, I will protect you and care for you for all eternity. I'll never abandon you."

His chest was warm, but my heart felt like a block of ice.

Resting against him, I asked quietly, "Apollo, you swear to take care of me. Why won't you swear to love me for all eternity?"

The room went dead silent.

I felt his body go completely rigid. A flash of unease crossed his eyes.

"Lyra, a god's love is vast. It can't be tethered to just one person," he said stiffly, dodging my gaze. "Anyway, stop overthinking. Tomorrow is your dress fitting at the sanctuary. You designed it yourself, remember? Get some rest, I'll go with you tomorrow."

Watching him squirm, I sneered inwardly and dropped the subject.

The next day, we arrived at the sanctuary.

But the moment I pushed open the doors, I saw Cassandra. She was twirling around, striking poses in the custom gown I had poured a month of my life into designing.

Oblivious to my frozen expression, Apollo clapped his hands together, his eyes full of awe. "Gorgeous, Cassandra. It looks like it was tailor-made for you."

"Really, Lord Apollo?" Cassandra smirked, then feigned surprise. "Oh! Sister, you're here. I just thought the dress was so pretty, I couldn't resist trying it on. You don't mind, do you? After all, you're the bride."

A wave of absolute nausea hit me.

Looking at the dress she was wearing, it suddenly looked filthy. I had always despised sharing—once someone else tainted what was mine, I never wanted it back.

I walked up to her, expressionless, my voice like ice. "Are you done playing dress-up? Take it off."

Cassandra shrank back behind Apollo, looking pitiful. "Sister, I really didn't mean to... I just loved it so much..."

Apollo frowned, shooting me a disappointed look. "Lyra, you're being too harsh. She just tried it on. Why are you acting like this? As a god’s consort, you need to learn grace, not throw a fit over a piece of clothing."

Looking at Apollo—who knew damn well about my boundaries yet still defended her—I suddenly laughed.

The anger evaporated. All that was left was a hollow numbness.

"Keep it," I said coldly, and turned to walk out.

Apollo chased after me, grabbing my wrist. "Lyra! What is wrong with you? It's just a dress, is this really necessary?"

I felt utterly exhausted.

He knew exactly how much my parents' favoritism destroyed me, and how fiercely protective I was over the very few things that actually belonged to me.

But now? Whether it was the dress, or the man standing in front of me—I didn't want either of them anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I gave up fighting. "I'm not mad. It's just time for my meditation. Let Cassie keep it, you can pick out a new one for me."

Apollo’s brow smoothed out, and he smiled with relief. "I see. Don't worry, I'll find you an even better one."

With that, he eagerly hurried back inside to Cassandra.

That night, Apollo didn't come to my chambers. As the High Priestess, I sensed a disturbance in the temple’s magic.

I walked to the side hall. Through the cracked door, I saw a scene that made my chest cave in.

Apollo and Cassandra, tangled together in the shadows.

"My Lord..." Cassandra panted against his neck. "Tell me... who gives you more pleasure? Me, or my sister?"

Apollo didn't skip a beat. "You, of course, my little siren. Lyra is far too stiff. How could she compare to you? Besides, you know exactly who drains all my energy."

They crashed their lips together again.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, a tear slipping down my cheek.

I thought I was numb to it all, but why? Why here?

This hall was where I first met Apollo. While I was praying, he had stepped down from his high altar and told me: "I’ve been watching you for a long time, my sweet little believer."

He chose me. And back then, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world.

Now, that memory was permanently stained by the filth in front of me.

The humiliation and the agonizing sting of betrayal nearly brought me to my knees. Still, with shaking hands, I pulled out the memory stone Apollo had once gifted me. I recorded the whole thing, then turned around and melted into the night.

With no tears left to cry, I went back to our shared bedroom.

Five days left.

I started systematically erasing every trace of myself from his space.

My teacups, the laurel flowers I grew by hand, the stacks of poetry I wrote declaring my love for him—I smashed them to pieces or threw them straight into the fireplace.

As the flames devoured the paper, whatever love I had left for him turned to ash, too.

The next morning, a temple servant delivered the "new dress" Apollo had picked out.

I opened the box and looked at the plain, poorly stitched white gown. The sizing wasn't even right. I let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh.

It was lightyears away from the gorgeous gown I had designed. It looked like a basic servant's shift. The gold threading at the hem was even unraveling.

This was his "better dress."

Without a word, I picked it up by the shoulders, walked over to the brazier, and dropped it straight into the roaring fire.

The flames swallowed the fabric in seconds.

The servant blinked in shock but didn't dare say a word.

A little while later, Apollo walked in. He totally missed the charred remains of the dress in the fire. Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he kissed my hair. "Lyra, did you see the dress? Do you like it?"

"I saw it. I love it," I said, my voice entirely flat.

Apollo exhaled in relief, spinning me around to hold my hands. He looked at me with those earnest, golden eyes. "About yesterday... don't hold it against her. Cassie is young and naive. I already scolded her. You're not mad, right?"

"I don't mind," I replied smoothly.

Seeing how calm I was, a flicker of guilt actually crossed his face. He stroked my hair, murmuring, "You're so understanding, Lyra. Listen, I have some urgent godly duties to attend to for the next few days, so I won't be around much. But after the ceremony, I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll take you anywhere you want to go, okay?"

Urgent duties?

I knew damn well his "duties" involved sneaking into Cassandra’s bed, plotting how to strip my powers on our wedding day.

But I kept my mask on. "Okay. Go do what you need to do."

After he left, I took a trip to my mortal home.

It was the house I grew up in for twenty years. Yet my bedroom was smaller than Cassandra’s closet. It was damp, dark, and in the winters, I’d shiver myself to sleep.

My parents had always turned a blind eye.

I walked into that tiny room and started clearing it out. Old clothes, cheap toys they’d bought out of obligation—I packed it all in trash bags.

By the time I finished, the only thing left on the desk was a thick journal. It documented years of my desperate longing for their love, and the crushing heartbreak of being constantly cast aside.

I left it right in the middle of the desk. My parting gift.

As I hauled the bags out to the courtyard to throw them away, my mother walked out.

I didn't smile or greet her like I normally would. I just brushed past her.

Seeing the bags, she didn't offer a shred of motherly concern. Instead, her face twisted in disgust. "Lyra, what is wrong with you? Don't think just because you're marrying a god you can throw your weight around in this house! And don't even think about bullying Cassandra once you're his consort! She's our real daughter, you're just a charity case. Learn some gratitude!"

"Besides, with your personality, Lord Apollo is going to get sick of you eventually. If you ask me, you should just step aside and let Cassandra marry him!"

Hearing that, the last puzzle piece clicked into place.

She and my father already knew about Cassandra's plan. They were helping her keep me in the dark.

Gratitude? For what? Stealing my identity, or using me as a stepping stone for their golden child?

I took one last look at this bitter woman who had never shown me an ounce of warmth.

I didn't argue. I just said, "Goodbye."