After a few minutes of silence, I begin to wake up and get my shit together. My fingers tremble as I pull open her wardrobe, curious what women wear in this world. The heavy wooden doors swing open with a soft creak, and I gasp. Rows of dresses hang like sleeping butterflies—crimson velvet with gold-threaded bodices, midnight blue silk that seems to capture starlight, emerald satin trimmed with delicate silver lace that catches the light like morning dew.

" Is this how rich people dress in this society?"   I whisper, running my fingers along a sleeve of gossamer fabric so delicate it might dissolve beneath my touch. 

 I've only seen things like this in history books, preserved behind glass... and these women wear them every day?

I select a sky-blue dress from the rack, its cotton fabric whispering against my fingertips as I slip it over my head. The hem cascades down to brush against my ankles, and the bodice hugs my waist like it was tailored just for me. For the first time, I feel transformed—regal, even. My reflection captivates me; I can' t tear my gaze away from the mirror.

This will be my debut as the new Athene. 

I reach out, my fingers meeting the cool glass as I marvel at myself draped in such exquisite finery. The sensation is disorienting yet thrilling. Where once my skin told stories of hardship through its scars and imperfections, now it glows with porcelain smoothness. My raven-black hair still tumbles down my back, familiar and unchanged. The high cheekbones, the slight tilt of my eyes, the curve of my jaw—all mine, yet somehow enhanced.

I LOOK LIKE MYSELF... BUT POLISHED TO PERFECTION!

My hair cascades down my back like a waterfall of obsidian silk—so naturally lustrous I needn' t fuss with it. My reflection stares back with alabaster skin unmarred by blemish or shadow. Just a hint of color on these lips would complete the look. 

But confronted with this bewildering array of cosmetics scattered across the vanity, I freeze. Which crystal bottle holds moisturizer? Where's the sunscreen hiding among these gleaming tubes? Good heavens— that pearlescent liquid must be the foundation. 

What arcane ritual do women follow here? Creams before powders? Does this realm's sun burn on human skin like the earth I came from?

I lift a lacquered box filled with vials of jewel-toned liquids. Some shimmer like morning dew on rose petals, others matte as desert sand. I uncap each one, letting their essences waft to my nose—some bland as water, others intoxicating as night-blooming jasmine. Textures range from honey-thick to gossamer-light. 

Finally, I select a crystal pot containing something with the consistency of melted rubies, sparkling with tiny flecks of gold. Surely this is meant for lips.I gaze at my completed reflection, utterly divine.

I smooth the embroidered silk of my gown, fingers tracing the golden thread that winds like ivy across midnight blue fabric.

 "I guess this is enough for me to go out," I whisper, studying my reflection in the ornate mirror—how the dress cinches at my waist before cascading to the floor, how the sleeves billow slightly at my wrists. The sapphire pendant at my throat catches the candlelight, throwing blue shadows across my collarbones. 

You know what? Everything in this entire chamber overwhelms my senses—gilded mirrors reflecting candlelight from crystal chandeliers, mahogany furniture inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and tapestries depicting hunts and battles in threads of gold. The ceiling arches overhead, painted with scenes of mythological creatures dancing among clouds. Even the air feels different here—perfumed with beeswax and exotic spices I can't name.

I can feel something beyond logic in this place—that inexplicable sensation when reality bends into wonder. The walls themselves seem to hum with ancient power, as if centuries of secrets are pressed into the very stones. My fingertips tingle when I touch the doorframe, like static electricity but warmer, more alive. I'm not just in another place— I'm in another world entirely.

"I' m ready to go out and explore whatever I see with my own eyes now,"  I whisper, my voice barely disturbing the heavy silence of the chamber.

The hunger to find an answer still burns inside me, sharp as winter frost. As I pull open the heavy oak door, my supposed-maids freeze in the corridor, their faces paling like disturbed ghosts at the sight of me stepping beyond my gilded cage.

Zoey's brow furrows as she steps forward, her hands clasped tightly at her waist.

" My lady... I thought you were meant to be resting?" 

 Behind her, Nina's eyes widen with concern, her lips pressed into a thin line.

I smooth the wrinkles from my silk robe, feeling the cool fabric against my fingertips. 

"Thank you for worrying about me, but I've been confined to that bed the entire day. My legs ache to move, to discover what lies beyond these ornate walls."

“Yes, my lady. This is your mansion. " Zoey's voice wavers slightly, her gaze darting nervously to the marble floor.

 The chandelier above casts dancing shadows across her face as she struggles to mask her unease at my boldness. 

However, I don't care anymore—the burning restlessness in my veins drowns out any whisper of fear!