Fifteen-year-old Andrew Slayn moves through a crowded street, just another ordinary day until he spots something unusual—a young girl, about thirteen, being approached by cloaked figures with concealed weapons. Though scrawny for his age, with tousled blonde hair and bright blue eyes, Andrew has always been athletic thanks to his love of sports and six years of dedicated Taekwondo training. Without hesitation, he rushes forward to intervene.

  The first attacker turns suddenly, slashing out with his blade. Andrew feels the cold steel slice across his forearm, a burning pain instantly spreading from the wound. He staggers, realizing immediately that something is wrong—the pain is too intense, spreading too quickly. The blade must be poisoned. Despite the agony now racing through his veins like liquid fire, Andrew forces himself to focus through the pain.

  "Run!" he shouts to the girl, while executing a precise roundhouse kick to disarm the attacker. The dagger clatters to the ground, but Andrew's vision is already beginning to blur. His limbs feel like lead as he follows up with blocking techniques he'd practiced countless times in his dojang, his movements growing sluggish with each passing second. The poison works quickly, each heartbeat pumping it further through his system.

  The girl's eyes widen in shock as Andrew stumbles, sweat pouring down his increasingly pale face as he fights to remain standing. He manages to position himself between her and the remaining attackers, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as the poison constricts his lungs. As his vision fades, the girl's disguise momentarily slips, revealing a silver glow around her—the goddess Artemis, targeted by a cult of god-haters.

  Andrew collapses to his knees, the world spinning around him. As consciousness begins to slip away, he feels a gentle hand on his forehead. Through blurring vision, he sees the young girl—now clearly radiating divine light—kneeling beside him, her face etched with an expression he never expected to see on a goddess: sadness.

  "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, brave mortal," she says softly, her voice seeming to come from very far away as darkness creeps in from the edges of his vision.

  The pain is overwhelming now, like nothing he's ever experienced—his blood feels like acid in his veins, his muscles spasm uncontrollably, and each breath is a struggle against his tightening throat. As darkness claims him, Andrew thinks of the family he's lost over the years to illness and accidents, wondering if he'll see them again. His last thought before consciousness leaves him completely is a simple one: at least the girl is safe.

  As Andrew's body crumples to the ground, something changes in the air around them. The temperature plummets instantly, frost forming on nearby windows despite the summer heat. The disguise falls away completely as Artemis stands to her full height, her form radiating silver light that casts harsh shadows across the street. Her eyes, once merely silver, now burn with the cold fire of distant stars.

  "You dare," she whispers, her voice carrying like the howl of a winter wind. "You dare poison a pure soul who stood to protect the innocent."

  The cultists, realizing too late the true nature of their target, attempt to flee. None make it more than three steps. Silver arrows materialize in the air around the goddess, each one finding its mark with unerring precision. The cultists fall without even time to scream, their bodies turning to silver ash that scatters in the sudden wind.

  Artemis kneels beside Andrew's still form, genuine grief flashing across her divine features—grief and something else, a rarity for the man-hating goddess: respect.

  "The first good man I've encountered in centuries," she murmurs, touching his forehead gently, "and he dies before my eyes protecting me." Her expression hardens. "This will not stand."

  Instead of oblivion, Andrew experiences a sensation of falling through light...

  Andrew finds himself standing in a strange, foggy void—neither life nor death, but somewhere in between. The mist shifts and swirls around him, occasionally revealing glimpses of stars and moonlight through the haze.

  "Where am I?" he wonders aloud, his voice echoing strangely.

  "The threshold between worlds," comes a clear, melodious voice.

  Andrew turns to see the silver-eyed young woman from the street, now revealed in her divine form. Artemis stands before him in all her glory—shoulder-length brunette hair frames a face of timeless beauty, her eyes pure silver like moonlight reflected on still water. She wears a form-fitting uniform of silver and black that seems to shimmer between modern tactical gear and ancient hunting leathers. A quiver of silver arrows is strapped to her back, alongside an elegant bow that appears to be carved from a single piece of moonstone. Delicate silver filigree adorns her arms like vines, and a crescent moon symbol gleams at her collar. Despite her divine presence, she carries herself with the predatory grace of a huntress, every movement precise and deliberate.

  Andrew stares at her, a half-formed thought taking shape in his mind. The silver eyes, the bow, the aura of wild power...

  "Who... who are you?" he asks hesitantly. "You look like... but that can't be right..."

  "Can't it?" the woman responds, arching a perfect eyebrow.

  "Artemis?" he gasps, instinctively dropping to one knee. "You're actually... but that's impossible. You're my favorite goddess from Greek mythology, but you can't be real..."

  A soft, melodious chuckle escapes her lips. "I 'can't be real'?" she repeats, amusement dancing in her silver eyes. "And yet here I stand before you, as real as your own soul." She gestures to the void around them. "This place is quite real too, though not in the way your mortal mind understands reality."

  She tilts her head, studying him with curious intensity. "Rise, mortal. I find bowing... uncomfortable."

  As Andrew stands, she circles him, silver eyes narrowed. "Curious. You knew who I was, yet you still intervened. A male, willingly risking his life for mine." Her tone carries genuine bewilderment. "Without expectation of reward. Without lustful thoughts. Your mind was only of protection."

  "I didn't know you were a goddess," Andrew explains. "I just saw someone in danger—a young girl about to be attacked. I couldn't just walk away."

  "Precisely what makes your action worthy of note," Artemis replies, her expression hardening. "In my millennia of existence, I have watched males turn away from the suffering of women. I have seen them avert their eyes as women were abused, raped, treated as possessions." Her voice takes on a disgusted edge, almost a snarl. "More often than not, they not only failed to intervene—they participated in the depravity with enthusiasm."

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  Her silver eyes hold centuries of witnessed horrors, her voice dripping with contempt. "I have watched kings sacrifice their daughters with smiles on their faces, warriors claim women as spoils of war while their comrades cheered them on, and ordinary men treat their wives and children as property to be beaten and broken at their leisure. The so-called 'civilized' eras of mankind were often the worst—men creating elaborate systems of law and religion specifically to control and diminish women."

  Andrew shifts uncomfortably under the weight of her justified anger.

  "It's why I formed my Hunters," Artemis continues, her voice softening slightly when speaking of her companions. "Women who swore off the company of men, who dedicated themselves to protecting others from the fate I described. We intervened when others would not. We punished those who believed themselves beyond consequences."

  She looks at Andrew with renewed curiosity. "Yet you—a male, young and untrained in comparison to my Hunters—chose to act where countless others would have walked by. Fascinating."

  Andrew rubs the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. "I don't deserve special recognition for basic human decency. Anyone should have done the same."

  "But they did not," Artemis counters firmly. "Only you."

  "Well, then everyone else was wrong," Andrew replies stubbornly. "I didn't do anything special. Helping others shouldn't be praiseworthy—it should be expected."

  To his surprise, Artemis's stern expression breaks into the ghost of a smile. "You lecture a goddess on moral philosophy?" A soft, musical chuckle escapes her. "Perhaps there is hope for mankind after all, if they can produce even one such as you."

  She composes herself quickly, but the ice in her demeanor has thawed slightly. "You lost your family young. You have known pain, yet remained uncorrupted by it. And now you have lost your life in defense of mine—a debt I cannot ignore, regardless of your protests."

  Andrew shakes his head. "You don't owe me anything. Anyone would have—"

  "They would not," Artemis interrupts sharply. "Do not diminish your sacrifice with false modesty. I have watched humanity for millennia, Andrew Slayn. What you did was rare."

  The mist around them thickens and begins to glow with moonlight.

  "Your time in that world is done," she continues, "but I offer you another. A second chance, in a realm different from your own. A world where your protective spirit might find purpose."

  Images flash through the mist—a village hidden among leaves, children training with strange energies, battles and friendships and a future unwritten.

  "You will begin again, without memory of your past life. But when the time is right, when you are ready, I will return your memories to you." Artemis draws closer, her divine presence making the air hum with power. "The world I send you to faces its own dangers. Consider this both my gift and my request—live again, and perhaps, protect again."

  Andrew, overwhelmed but determined, meets her silver gaze. "Thank you, Lady Artemis. I won't waste this chance."

  The goddess's expression softens almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps there are men worth saving after all." She touches his forehead with two fingers, and the mist begins to envelop him.

  "Wait," Andrew calls as he begins to fade, "will I ever see you again?"

  Artemis's voice follows him as he slips away from the void: "The moon shines in all worlds, hunter. Look for me there."

  As Andrew fades completely from the void, a new figure emerges from the mist—a woman cloaked in shadows, her features obscured but her presence undeniably powerful.

  "Giving him your blessing, sister? A wise decision?" The shadow-clad woman's voice carries both amusement and disbelief. "In all our millennia, I have witnessed you tolerate the presence of perhaps a handful of males. I have seen you speak to fewer still." She moves closer, the shadows around her seeming to ripple. "But to give your divine blessing to one? To mark a male with your power and protection? This is unprecedented."

  Artemis turns, a faint blush coloring her usually composed features. "He was... different," she admits reluctantly. "The first male to ever have pure thoughts even after witnessing my divine form. He looked upon me and thought only that I was... cute still thinking he was glad I was save." She nearly stumbles over the word cute, as if unused to such terminology.

  "Different indeed," the shadowed figure muses. "To sacrifice himself for a stranger with no thought of reward. To face death with courage rather than fear or bargaining. To lecture a goddess on morality without a trace of arrogance—merely conviction." A hint of a smile is visible beneath the shadows. "Perhaps there are exceptions to your rules after all."

  "Perhaps," Artemis concedes, gazing at the spot where Andrew vanished. "But do not think this changes anything."

  "Of course not," the mysterious woman replies, amusement evident in her tone. "Though I wonder what will become of your champion in that world of shinobi and shadows. Will he remain the pure soul you found so fascinating? Or will power and knowledge corrupt him as it has so many others?" The shadowy figure pauses, her voice growing more serious. "And what if he fails, sister? What if he dies again in this new world, far from your reach?"

  For the first time, Artemis's confident demeanor falters slightly, a fleeting shadow of concern crossing her face before she masters it. "He will adapt," she states, though there's a new tension in her voice that wasn't there before. "He has my blessing. That will be enough."

  The shadowed figure notices the subtle change but chooses not to comment on it. Instead, she nods slowly. "You've invested more in this mortal than I've seen you do in centuries. Interesting."

  Once alone, Artemis gazes at the emptiness where Andrew had stood, her fingers unconsciously tracing the crescent moon emblem at her collar. "Survive, hunter," she whispers, too softly for anyone but herself to hear. "Prove my faith in you well-placed."