Of Dawn's Rising and Dusk's Demise

"Artemis! Wake up!"

A shrill voice cut through the sleepy morning haze. Artemis jolted upright—only to lose her footing and crash down onto the wet tiled floor with a painful thud.

"Ow..." she winced, rubbing her tailbone.

"Your ineptness always causes you trouble and pain. Lately, it's mostly... butt pain," her aunt Cynthia called out dryly.

"I'm okay! I'm used to this anyway..." Artemis mumbled, wincing as she sat up. Then, suddenly perking up, she sniffed the air. "Wait—did you make roasted baby back ribs?"

Cynthia arched a brow, now peeking around the kitchen doorway. "How did you know?"

Artemis beamed. "I can tell... The aroma speaks to me!"

Cynthia laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

Artemis stood and shuffled to the dining table. Her eyes sparkled—literally, it seemed—as she laid eyes on the glistening racks of ribs. "WOW!"

"Don't eat everything!" Cynthia warned.

Too late.

Moments later, Cynthia entered to find nothing but bones and sauce stains.

"You were saying?" Artemis asked, licking her fingers and releasing a burp that could've rattled windows.

"You ate everything?!"

"Of course! Never waste a blessing, right?"

Cynthia groaned. "Even if she eats a truckload, she doesn't gain a pound. Meanwhile, if I so much as breathe near a doughnut..."

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" she added.

"It's summer vacation, remember?"

"Right. Then go to Marie's shop and buy me some celery—long, green, leafy—for lunch."

"I think I should shower first," Artemis said, sniffing herself.

"I agree. You smell like roasted ribs."

Artemis Hunt, age seventeen and a half, looked like she'd spent her life basking in warm light—but not quite kissed by the sun. Her skin held a subtle honeyed hue, like tea steeped just a moment too short, soft and golden but not glowing. Her copper-gold eyes shimmered with a light all their own, dancing between mischief and wonder depending on her mood. Her thick hair, the color of chestnuts in autumn, flowed freely in waves down her back, often tangled from sleep or chaos. Though slender and petite, she had a surprising resilience that made her more than meets the eye.

After bathing, dressing, and stalling with minor distractions, Artemis finally set out on her errand.

The midday sun beat down as she walked the dusty road, humming a tune only she seemed to know. But then, a sharp pain sliced through her head. Her vision blurred—and in the swirl of dizziness, a black bird flared in her mind's eye. A raven? No... something darker.

The vision vanished just as she collided with a man.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly.

"No need to worry, missy," the man replied with a grin that made her skin crawl. He looked sleazy, like the kind of man who'd sell fake watches—or worse.

"You look like you could use some fun," he said, grabbing her arm. "Come with me. I'll show you a place you'll never forget."

"This pig has a tight grip," Artemis muttered under her breath.

"Come on, kitten—"

"I'm not going to hell with you. Get lost!"

"You're one stubborn kitty," he growled, leaning in.