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."

Leaving the bags by the courtyard gates, I walked away from the estate.

With the sun on my face, I felt lighter than I had in years. The toxic shackles of my "family" were finally left in the dirt.

When I returned to the Temple of Light, a servant handed me a letter.

From Cassandra, of course.

Even through the ink, I could practically hear her gloating.

“Sister, did you know Lord Apollo blessed me with the Gift of Eternal Youth? He risked being punished by the Pantheon just for me. He said he’d never let me have less than you. Are you jealous?”

Maybe because I'd already seen the depths of his favoritism, my heart didn't even ache this time.

I walked over to the vanity and looked at the laurel crown I was supposed to wear for the ceremony.

It used to be my greatest pride. Now, it was just a gilded cage.

I dropped it into a box and pinned a note to it: [Since you love everything of mine so much, you can have the crown, too. May your love never wither.]

For the next few days, Apollo remained a ghost, busy playing house with Cassandra. He just had servants drop off gifts and letters at my door.

I stared at the mountain of presents, feeling absolutely nothing. I knew they were just leftovers Cassandra didn't want, tossed my way out of convenience.

"Throw it all out," I ordered the servants.

As for the letters filled with his pretty lies? I tossed them straight into the fire without breaking the seals.

Two days before the wedding, Apollo finally showed up.

He took my hand, his voice dripping with affection. "Lyra, I'm so sorry. I've been drowning in work. But today, I'm taking you to the Soul Cleansing. It's the final step before you become my consort."

The Soul Cleansing required submerging my mortal body into three sacred pools representing Greed, Wrath, and Ignorance.

It was agonizing. Like having your soul ripped apart and stitched back together. Without a god channeling their magic to protect you, a mortal would likely go mad from the pain.

"Don't be scared, Lyra," Apollo cupped my cheek. "I'll be right beside you. I'll wrap you in my magic so you won't feel the worst of it. Trust me, okay?"

I stayed quiet, then nodded.

I knew I was never going to be his wife, but the cleansing would make me stronger, closer to the divine. There was no reason to say no.

We arrived at the sanctuary pools. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the first water—Greed.

Instantly, a bone-crushing cold spiked through my skull. Apollo immediately reached out, and a warm, golden barrier wrapped around me, siphoning away most of the agony.

But just as I stepped into the second pool—Wrath—where the pain doubled, Apollo’s face suddenly drained of color.

"Cassandra? What's wrong?" he blurted out to thin air.

Panic seized his features. He hurriedly turned to me. "Lyra, Cassandra is calling for help! She's hurt, I have to go to her!"

"Just wait for me here, okay?!"

Before I could even agree, he ripped his protective magic away from me and vanished.

Leaving me to drown in the excruciating pain.