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Chapter Text

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Act One

The lightning thief

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ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Ronnie's playlist 

Put Your Records On - Corinne Bailey Rae

Running with the Wolves - AURORA 

Breathe - Taylor Swift, Colbie Caillat

Runaway - AURORA

Delicate - Taylor Swift

Vienna - Billy Joel

When the party's over - Billie Eilish

Piano Man - Billy Joel

Here Comes The Sun - Remastered - The Beatles

Dancing Queen - ABBA

Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish 

Ribs - Lorde

There is a light that never goes out - The Smiths

Runaway - Kayne West, Pusha T

Decode - Paramore 

Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears for Fears

no body, no crime - Taylor Swift Ft. HAIM

Motion Sickness - Pheobe Bridgers 

The Man - Taylor Swift 

Are you Satisfied? - MARINA 

Doin' Time - Lana Del Ray

Firework - Katy Perry 

Can't feel my face - The Weekend 

Everybody Loves Me - OneRepublic

Back To December - Taylor swift 

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Characters

Veronica Nelson - She/her

Ashley Nelson - She/Her

Andrew Nelson - He/Him

Annabeth Chase - She/Her

Chiron - He/Him

Dionysus/Mr. D. - He/Him

Luke Castellan - He/Him

Percy Jackson - He/Him

Castor Angevin - He/Him

Pollux Angevin - He/Him

Grover Underwood - He/Him

Photo credits 

Veronica - https://pin.it/6a7xfCjFp

Ashley - https://pin.it/1Vmz2K0kL

Andrew - https://pin.it/2eohOIabC

Annabeth - https://pin.it/5Q72u2GO5

Chiron - https://pin.it/5sqeaBW91

Dionysus - https://riordan.fandom.com/wiki/Dionysus?so=search&file=Dionysus_GN.jpg

Luke - https://pin.it/2DUnG5Cvg

Percy -https://pin.it/4Tss9vfar

Castor - https://pin.it/2x2bQ7spA

Pollux - https://pin.it/28ty2mWxi

Grover- https://riordan.fandom.com/wiki/Grover_Underwood?file=Grover_Underwood.jpg

A/N- I tried to find art breeders of all the characters but ended up using the official art for some of them like Grover since he kept getting white washed. I know the images aren't all the same size and I apologize for that.

Chapter Text

Look, I don't want to be here.

I tried to convince myself to have hope and that this trip would be fun. See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fourth-grade school, when we went to a new soup kitchen, I had this accident with a brand new oven. I didn't know leftover grease and food would cause a huge fire, but of course I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fifth-grade trip, when I got pushed into the fire alarm, and I sort of pulled a lever and our class took an unplanned shower. And the time before that...Well, you get what I'm saying.

This year for our end of the year field trip my school, decided to take us to the Columbus Zoo and give us all purple shirts that said, "St. Catherine Academy field trip 2005." We were split into groups and thanks to my luck I was in Miss Maggie's group so I had to try extra hard to behave myself.

Miss Maggie was this teacher in her late 40s. She had short brown hair and a light pink fleece cardigan, which always smelled like cats. You would think she'd be cool but, she always favorited that group of boys you swear should get in trouble more than they do. 

 This trip, I was determined to behave. Through all the exhibits, I'm going to try my best to put up Alex McCaporay. Alex is Miss Maggie's favorite student. He's this black haired boy who is the biggest suck up to the teachers but, its probably to cover up making other students lives hell, like me and Roses'.

You see, Rose was an easy target to bullying. She was short and skinny. She cried when she got frustrated. She had purple glasses cause her eyesight wasn't all that good. On top of all that, she was crippled. She had a note excusing her from PE for the rest of her life because she had some kind of muscular disease in her legs. She walked funny, like every step hurt her, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen her when we were skip Miss Maggie's class to go play in the woods.

Anyways, Miss Maggie lead the group next to our tour guide. She kept telling us about all the animals in the exhibits and what they ate for breakfast. I could tell that our tour guide was a nice lady, she had a bright smile on her face even though I know my group was pretty annoying.

My group gathered around the Flamingos exhibit and our tour guide began explaining, "Flamingos stand on one leg to preserve energy and to conserve their body heat." 

She talked more in depth about their habitat and I really was trying to pay attention to her. But, everyone around me kept talking and it was getting really hard to focus on one voice.  Maybe its just my ADHD again. It does that sometimes.

Alex kept giggling to his friends while I tapped my hand on my side, trying to ignore him. Alex doesn't need the satisfaction of my reaction and I'm not going to give him one I kept telling myself. 

It worked since I calmed down and refocused back on the lesson the tour guide was giving. She was talking about Flamingos role in their environment. But, Alex snickered about how gay the flamingos looked, and I immediately turned around and stared at him dead in the eyes, "You're so annoying, do you ever shut up?"

I turned around quickly and put my hand on my mouth. I have no idea why that made me so mad or why that came out so loud. I felt my face go red and I looked over at Rose for help but she hit me with the you-should've-kept-your-mouth-shut look.

 Miss Maggie gasped, "Miss Nelson did you have a comment about what our guide was talking about?"

I quickly shook my head, "No."

The tour guide laughed nervously then finished her conversation about the flamingos diet and moved us to the next couple exhibits where I just stood there silently, trying my best to keep my mouth shut, no matter how annoying Alex was being. 

After what felt like days of standing in the blazing hot sun, our tour guide left us to go on her lunch break. So it was just my group and Miss Maggie at this crossroad between different parts of the Zoo.

"I'm so tired..." I complained.

Rose tried comforting me me, "Miss Maggie said we're walking up this hill to meet up with the other sixth grade homerooms for lunch."

I had been walking all day learning about whatever monkey that was just born and what a day in their life looked like. I'd be having fun if I could actually learn about the animals without the tour guide asking, "Alright guys can we keep our voices down?"

Miss Maggie looked for the bus station, hoping we could take that up the hill but, it the bus was closed for maintenance. About a minute into walking I glanced over at Rose who had a bunch of peanuts in her hair. I brushed one off and gave Alex a nasty glare. Then I continued getting the rest out, mumbling a few curses in between them while Rose tried to convince me everything was fine.

The rest of the way up the hill felt like we were in a video game. I had to dodge peanut after peanut like they were some sort of bullet. If I didn't dodge, they'd get stuck in my curly hair and I'd look like a peanut growing tree. On top of that I had to listen to Miss Maggie complaining about her feet hurting from her stilettos. Maybe wear normal tennis shoes like a normal fucking human being. Okay that was a little rude.

I took a couple deep breaths to calm down, since punching Alex and Miss Maggie then watching them rolling down the hill isn't an option.

After what felt like an eternity my group made it to the top of the hill. All the other homerooms were sitting down and eating in this open picnic area.

The picnic area was designed like we were in the savanna. There were wooden tables with straw thatched umbrellas covered in years of initials and snack crumbs. Around the tables there were these fake boulders and tall grasses that you could see kids playing on.

By the time me and Rose down at a table I was surrounded by a sea of the purple field trip day shirts.

I opened my lunch box from my bag and sighed, "I'm so glad my mom packed me a double lunch." 

Rose was staring down at the table and didn't say anything.  

"You know the double lunch is for you, right? I get one half and you get the other half." I reminded her.

I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let her take more than her half of the lunch. 

From where I was sitting I could look over at the leopard exhibit. It was in the middle of the bathroom and some other building. Clearly the exhibit was clearly way bigger than the two buildings. 

I began observing the exhibit, how many trees there were, where the water was. I love Leopards. They're one of my favorite animals, I've always had a special interest for big cats for as long as I can remember. But, I could only see one leopard from my seat. She has sleek, golden-yellow fur with a pattern of black rosettes. She was lying in the shade on one of the trees in her exhibit, her front arms dangling from the tree. She looked like she just finished her lunch and was ready for another nap. She didn't even bother to notice people taking pictures of her on their disposable cameras, she just kept staring forward. She looked like a celebrity at some big event ignoring the press. I wish I could spend all day watching closer but, I had to stay with my school. 

I hadn't notice that she was looking directly at me until I stopped to look at my jelly sandwich then back at her.

Alright. Little creepy.

Then I realized I also had been describing the leopard as a girl this whole time. 

The sign with all of her information is so far away and even if I could see it from here I doubt I could read it because of my dyslexia. How did I know the leopard was a girl?

My brain was flooding with questions and all I could do is take deep breaths. You know, maybe none of this matters anyways. 'My knowing animals gender's by first glance' isn't going to be on any job applications. Plus, my sandwich is just sitting here and its not going to eat itself.

 I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Alex McCaporary appeared in front of me with his ugly friends---I guess he'd gotten tired of harassing random tourists and he dumped his half-eaten lunch in Rose's lap.

 "Oops." He grinned at me with his nasty teeth. 

My hand balled up into fists. The school counselor had told me a billion times, "Count to ten, take deep breaths, get control of your temper." But I was so mad nothing would have calmed me down.

"Wow, picking on someone you think can't fight back? Bold move." I laughed.

The next thing I knew was my knuckles hurt and Alex was on the ground with a mark forming by his right eye. He was next to lots of weeds growing through the cracks of the stone floor, screaming, "What the heck Ronnie!"

I don't exactly remember touching him or the weeds being there before he fell. All I could feel the guilt I feel when I was in trouble. This time, the guilt felt a little different. I felt sick to my stomach. I tried convincing myself it was probably because I've never hurt another kid at school.

I blinked a couple times and Miss Maggie appeared behind us and rushed towards Alex.

I went to sit back down and finish my sandwich and I overheard a few kids whispering:

"Did you see-"

"Yeah why did it do that?"

"Are we saf-" 

I had no idea what they were talking about but I knew I really messed up this time. I looked down at Rose who had tears forming in her eyes and was sniffling. 

I didn't know what to do so I looked back at Miss Maggie and Alex. She confirmed that he was okay and then she turned towards me.

She moved through the rest of Alex's friends. Her heels clicked on the ground and without a word, she stopped in front of my table. I could feel her gaze before I even looked up.

"Miss Nelson," Miss Maggie said, her voice cool, almost dismissive. "Come with me for a moment."

I recognized her tone. This wasn't a command or a request. I got up and looked back at my table.

Rose looked at me desperately. 

"It's okay," I told her. "It's the last day of school anyways" 

"Veronica," Miss Maggie barked at me. "Now." 

Alex McCaporay smirked. 

I gave him a stare to make sure that next time he wouldn't just be on the floor. Then I turned to face Miss Maggie, but she wasn't there. She was standing in front of the leopard exhibit entrance.

How'd she get there so fast? 

I have moments like that a lot, my brain spaces out or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something. The school's counselor told me this was part of my ADHD. My brain misinterpreting things. 

I went after Miss Maggie.

Halfway to the exhibit I glanced back at Rose. She was looking pale, cutting her eyes between me and the exhibit behind me, like she wanted me to notice something.

 I looked back up and Miss Maggie had disappeared again. She was now inside that building to the left of the leopard exhibit. It had three big tinted windows and a door to the left of them.

Okay, I thought. She wanted to have a serious conversation away from my classmates. 

But apparently that wasn't the plan. I followed her into the building. It was an old lost and found covered in dust and a couple folded up metal chairs and tables in the corner. The place was practically empty.

 Miss Maggie stood with her arms crossed Infront of the middle window. Then, she was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling. 

Even without the noise, I would've been creeped out. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Miss Maggie. 

"You've been giving us problems," she said. 

I did the safe thing and silently nodded.

She tugged on the cuffs of her fleece cardigan, "Did you really think you could hide forever?"

 I looked up at her the look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil. Even though she was just a teacher she looked as if hurting me was on the top of her bucket list.

"We are not fools, Veronica Nelson," Miss Maggie said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you."

 I had no idea what she was talking about. All I could think of was that the teachers must've caught up on all the times I'd skipped their classes. Or maybe they'd realized I was the one who pulled the fire alarm and not the random kid who took the blame for me.

She raised her eyebrow, "Well?"

"Ma'am, I don't..." 

"Your time is up," she hissed. Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began glowing like molten lava. Her fingers stretched, turning into dark grey talons. Her cardigan melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to meat strips for the animals.

I looked outside for just a second and all the tourists and students were gone, screaming and running down the hill. 

I didn't have time to focus on all of the screaming and running, I had bigger problems. I turned my head and Miss Maggie came lunging at me. She was about six feet away from me when I threw myself to the left. I  dodged and felt her talons slash the air next to my ear.

She dug her fingernail into the wall and got stuck. I made a dash for the door, not daring to look back. I tugged on the door handle with all my might and it wouldn't budge. I frantically looked around the room for another escape but there was no escaping.

My whole body was trembling I could hardly stand. I looked down at the door to see if it was locked or something but it wasn't. All I could see was my shaky hands. 

 I'm going to die. I'm really going to die here at this Zoo.

Miss Maggie ripped her nails out of the wall and shot me a murderous look. I don't know what came across me but I ran to the middle window.

 She snarled, "Die, child! "And she flew straight at me. 

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I quickly ducked down and felt Miss Maggie fly through the window above me. Glass shattered everywhere, some piercing through my skin. I stood up quickly and jumped through the window like it was just a hurdle on the track, and began running as far away from Miss Maggie as I could.

Suddenly I heard a low growl and I immediately stopped. I finally understood what the kids where whispering about and what all the screaming was about.

The leopard had escaped from its exhibit. 

I turned around and the leopard slowly started to approached me, staying close to the ground where she almost perfectly blended into.

I didn't have anytime to think of another escape route so I gave up fighting and just fell to the ground and accepted my fate. I was really going to die here at this dumb trip with my dumb catholic school.

Miss Maggie hissed from almost directly behind me, "Stay out of this furball."

The leopard bared its fangs and pounced. It moved like a flash of lighting, slashing with its claws and aiming for Miss Maggie's wings. Miss Maggie screamed and reeled back, barely blocking the blow with her talons.

The leopard circled, feinting, snarling, and herding Miss Maggie away from me. 

She lunged at me, but the leopard twisted mid-air and sank its teeth into her shoulder. Golden fluid splattered across the rocks around us. 

She looked around and snarled. She flapped her wings and retreated into the sky and shrieked, "This isn't over half-blood!"

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, as if I were still being attacked. Nobody was around except me and the leopard. My hands were still trembling.

My mind was spinning, this was all crazy. Had I imagined the whole thing? 

I pinched my arm but I felt it. Everything that just happened was real.

The Leopard---no, a real leopard, not a dream, not a statue, not a costume---stood between me and the gold fluid Miss Maggie let out after being attacked. 

The Leopard panted. 

Then, she turned. 

Not away, towards me.

Was she going to come for me next?

I froze and closed my eyes, and put my arms out to defend myself.

 I slowly lowered my arms and opened my eyes to see the leopard lowering its head gently and pressing it onto my side.

I let out a shaky breath of relief and I petted her head with my shaky hands. 

Then she licked me---one slow, rasping swipe across my scarped up cheek, then she pulled back.

I titled my head in confusion and blinked. But she turned and walked away. Acting as if nothing happened and she didn't just save my life. 

All I could hear was my heart still pounding and kids screaming in the distance. 

I looked down at my scraped up palms and legs. I wanted to scream, Or cry. Or throw up. But I just whispered, "What the hell was that?"

I should've been dead.

I would've died, if the leopard didn't save me.

"There you are!" 

I could barely recognize that voice until I was wrapped in a pair of shaky arms. The scent of her strawberry shampoo hit my nose, "Rose?" 

"Everyone was running and I-I saw you weren't with us," She said, pulling back enough to cup my cheek, "Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

I couldn't answer her. It felt like the words were jammed shut in my throat.

She glanced around, holding me with one arm and waving the other in the air, "Over here! I found her! She's hurt but she's okay!

I didn't want to let go of Rose or move. If I tired to explain what I just saw no one would believe me.

I notice someone moving through the crowd that started to form.  A chaperone with the purple field day t-shirt I was wearing. I had never seen her before but she ran at me and Rose with a clipboard in her hand.

She came over and opened her mouth to speak but my vision went dark and I felt my whole body go numb.

05/21/25

Sagemeadowsxoxo

© All rights reserved

Chapter Text

The first thing I noticed was the hum of the lights above me. 

Then the pounding in my head. 

Then the cold, but soft feeling of a cot underneath me.

I blinked at the ceiling for a few seconds before I remembered where I was. The Zoo. Right. On a last day of school field trip. And then-

Oh.

All the memories came rushing back. Getting attacked. The Monster. Miss Maggie retreating into the sky. Rose finding me.

And that leopard. She gave me this look---polite, careful, respectful. The kind of look you'd give your boss at work.

I sat up quickly without thinking.

"Hey, hey---don't move too fast," someone said.

I turned toward the voice. It was a woman in a zoo staff shirt sitting beside the cot holding an ice pack and giving me a warm smile. "You passed out," she said, " Maybe from shock. Don't worry, your friend stayed right here the whole time."

I turned my head slowly this time and saw my friend.

Rose looked awful. Her eyes were puffy, her arms hugging her backpack like it was the only thing from keeping her from crying again. When our eyes met she quickly grabbed her crutches and stood up.

"Oh my gosh, you're awake," she whispered, her voice cracking, "you scared me!"

"I'm alright," I tried to say, but my throat was as dry as the Sahara dessert. I tried swallowing but it didn't help much.

She reached for my head and squeezed it. I didn't even realize I was shaking until she did that.

Then the door flew open. "Baby?"

My mom was standing in the doorway in her scrubs.

She ran towards me and I didn't even try to act cool. I let her hug me and bury me in her arms.

"I came the second I got the call," she said, "They said...something happened. That an animal escaped from its exhibit." 

Yeah but it saved me from Miss Maggie or whatever that was. I know I just woke up but I never really thought about it but I didn't know what Miss Maggie was. A monster? A demon? An old prune that could fly?

My mom hugged me tighter and tucked strands of my hair behind my ears.

"Lets go home," she said gently, "We'll stop for ice cream, your favorite. Rose is coming too. We'll have a sleepover. Girls' night."

I blinked at her. "Don't you have work?"

She gave me that look, the one that said nothing matters more than you, "They have a bunch of interns to cover for me. They'll survive without me."

On the walk to my mom's car, she explained to us that one of the chaperones called her on a pay phone and filled her on the leopard escaping its exhibit and how I was hiding from it. And how they planned on cutting the field trip short and going back to the school as soon as I woke up but my mom said they could go now. That she'd pick me and Rose up in less than an hour. 

 Then my mom whispered in my ear I wasn't in trouble anymore and I was allowed to come back for the next school year.

That's a first for me. I don't know if I can remember a time where I was allowed to come back to a school.

We got in the car and my mom drove us to my favorite, Charlies ice cream parlor. I got my favorite (and the best ice cream flavor), black raspberry chip and Rose got mint chocolate chip ice cream. Before we drove home mom took us to a park near the Scioto river where we hosted a who can finish the ice cream the fastest contest. 

I swear, my stomach was going to explode.

I leaned back on the hood of Mom's car, groaning dramatically. "Okay," I said between breaths, "if I die, bury me with my big cats."

Across me, on the bench, Rose smacked the last spoonful of her ice cream into her mouth and raised both arms like she just finished a marathon. "Boom! I win again, Ronnie!"

Then she let out the most cursed noise I'd ever heard. Something between a whale song and a scream.

"Brain freeze?" I asked, trying so hard not to laugh.

She nodded aggressively, clutching her forehead like she was trying to hold her brain in. "Ow—owwwww. Why is this the price of victory?!"

I laughed so hard I nearly slid off the car. Mom, being the resident nurse and long-time brain-freeze-rescuer, handed Rose a bottle of water and started rubbing her temples like she was casting a spell. "You two are ridiculous," she muttered, smiling.

"Just competitive," I mumbled.

Mom shook her head but didn't argue. "Okay, brain-freeze champion. What movie are we watching tonight?"

Rose was still recovering. "Um, clueless. I've never actually seen it."

Everything froze.

I stared at her. "Wait, what?"

"I know, I know! I've heard about it," she said, waving her hands in defense. "But I have never seen it."

"Girls, we're fixing this right now, " Mom was pulling out her keys. "Blockbuster time."

We piled into the car and drove off. I could feel the sugar rush kicking in as we sped through the neighborhood, windows down, warm summer air whipping my hair into a frenzy. 

By the time we got to Blockbuster, I was vibrating. "First one to find Clueless wins," I said as I threw open the car door.

 " No fair!" Rose shouted, "I'm on crutches!"

"Then consider this your underdog story," I grinned, sprinting inside like I was on the track team.

She hobbled in behind me, somehow still faster than most people at full speed. "Veronica Nelson!"

"Nope!" I was already down the aisle, scanning rows of DVDs like my life depended on it. Romantic comedies... teen dramas... bingo.

"FOUND IT!" I yelled, holding the pink plastic case in the air like it was the Holy Grail.

Rose groaned from the next row over. "You have functioning legs though..."

Mom caught up with us a second later. "Did we find it?"

I handed it over like it was a trophy. "I  found it."

"Barely," Rose muttered, grinning.

On the drive home, I stretched out in the backseat, the movie in my lap, the sky turning a soft gold behind the trees.

"Where's Dad?" I asked casually, already knowing.

"With his friends from college," Mom replied, "Some reunion thing. He said they're watching the game and drinking."

Of course.

"And the twins?" I added.

"With Grandma tonight. She wanted to spoil them and feed them disgusting amounts of sugar."

So, basically... it was just us. Me, Mom, and Rose. No loud little brothers. No Dad stinking like beer and nachos. Just us girls. It should've felt perfect.

But no matter how hard I tried or how much ice cream I ate, I couldn't distract myself from what happened at the Zoo.

I leaned my head against the window, movie still clutched in my lap. I smiled, but it didn't quite reach all the way.

At least for tonight, I got the win.

When we got home it was quiet. Me and Rose changed into our matching pajamas and raced back to the living room. Mom was pulling out spare blankets and pillows. She had her hair in a messy bun and she wore her old OSU hoodie from college.

The three of us stacked cushions, threw blankets over chairs, and brought in the dinning room table bench to create a side wall. By the time we were done, the whole thing looked like a magical fabric cave with pillows everywhere, a bowl of buttery popcorn in the center, and a couple Capri Suns next to the popcorn bowl.

I popped open the Blockbuster case and pulled out the Clueless DVD carefully, so I didn't scratch it. Then I put it in the DVD on the DVD player.

Beep.

I love the little sound it made when it slid into the player.

The chunky TV blinked blue for a second, then the menu popped up—Cher's voice coming through tinny and perfect: "Ugh, as if!"

Me and Rose dove under the fort roof, squished between blankets, Mom settling down with us as the screen faded into that iconic yellow plaid.

"Rose," Mom whispered, "prepare to have your life changed."

Cher was saying something snarky on-screen, but I wasn't listening. I couldn't. My brain felt like it was still back at the Zoo.

Everything smelled like popcorn and warm blankets, and Rose's hands were in my hair, sectioning and braiding it slow, like she knew I needed to be untangled.

But all I could think was:

What the hell happened today?

Why didn't I die?

I should've. I should've died.

That leopard—how did she even get out? One second she was in her exhibit, and the next, she was walking toward me. It didn't look confused. It looked like it knew. As if it had a job to do.

It should've mauled me. It should've ripped me apart. But it didn't. It looked at me... and it let me go. Then it went after her.

Miss Maggie.

No. Not Miss Maggie.

That thing.

I could still see it—her face melting into something monstrous, fangs like glass, leathery wings tearing through her blazer. And that voice. "Half-blood!"

What does that even mean?

What's a half-blood?

Why did she say it like it was poison?

I leaned forward slightly as Rose pulled the braid tighter near the base. She didn't say anything. Maybe she thought I was just tired. Maybe she didn't want to say anything.

But I knew she knew something. The way she grabbed my arm when I froze. The way she ran without asking questions. The way she looked at me after... like she was waiting for something.

None of this makes sense.

Why is everyone acting normal? Like today wasn't the most messed up, terrifying, impossible day of my life?

I'm sitting in a pillow fort, wearing hello kitty pajamas, watching Clueless, while my best friend braids my hair like everything's fine.

But nothing's fine.

Nothing is normal anymore.

I stared at the string lights above me, wondering out if I was going crazy, or if the world had always been like this, and I just hadn't noticed it before.

When my mom kissed my forehead and whispered, "You're safe now," I wanted to believe her.

I really did.

But deep down, I had an awful feeling.

I tried to focus on the movie to distract myself but I had, no idea what was going on. I wasn't paying attention for most of the movie. 

Rose kept whispering dumb comments that made me laugh. My head was resting on her shoulder, I could see our empty ice cream cups that were still sticky from fudge sauce we smothered our ice cream in.

I must've said something like, "I'm not tired," but my eyes felt heavy and were already closing. The strawberry scent, the comforting sound of Rose breathing, and the hum of the credits rolling in all swirled together until the room melted into darkness.

I blinked awake, the pillows damp against my cheek and the blanket tangled around my legs. The TV was off, the room dark except for a soft glow coming from down the hall.

My mouth was dry. I sat up slowly, rubbed at my eyes, and slipped off the couch. The air was cool against my skin as I padded toward the kitchen for water, trying not to wake Rose. She must've gone to bed already.

I was halfway down the hall when I realized the pantry light was still on. Odd. We never left it on this long.

I reached up toward the cabinet for a glass when I froze.

Voices.

I eased backward, just enough to hover in the hallway's shadows. The pantry door was cracked open, and two figures stood inside, Mom and Rose. I'm not an eavesdropper but what would you do if your mom was talking to your best friend in the middle of the night.

"You don't need to lie. I know what you are," Mom's arms were crossed, her voice low but sharp, "A satyr, right?"

Rose didn't respond she just silently nodded.

"I've known since I was pregnant with her," Mom continued. "Her real father... he revealed himself to me. I know what kind of world you're from."

Real father?

Millions of questions flooded my brain. 

I didn't breathe. Couldn't.

Rose shifted her weight. "Does... does Veronica know?"

Silence. Then Mom exhaled through her nose like she'd been waiting for that question.

"No," she said. "And it's not my place—as the mortal parent—to ruin being claimed. I'm not stupid, Rose. You two are best friends. If I told her, you'd tell her everything."

Rose didn't argue.

I pressed my back into the wall, heart hammering.

What did she mean—real father? So... not Andrew? Not the guy who leaves for the weekend to  party with his college friends and forgets my birthday half the time?

What were they talking about?

What was Rose?

Everything felt like it was tilting, slow and sick.

The silence stretched.

"...we have to leave soon," Rose was saying, her voice lower than usual, serious. "It's not safe to wait. She's already been attacked—"

"I know that," my mom cut in. Her voice was tight, like she'd been crying but didn't want to show it. "I just... I didn't think it would be this soon. She's only thirteen. And I never wanted her to know like this."

I froze. My heart started pounding again. Not like it did when I saw Miss Maggie's face change, not the metallic-blood kind of fear. This was slower. Sicker.

"She has to go, Mrs. Nelson," Rose said gently. "That Fury—"

A beat of silence.

"A what?" My mom's voice cracked.

"A Fury. One of Hades servants."

I didn't want to hear any more. I backed up one step, turned and ran. Not down the stairs, not outside—I ran to the one place I could lock the door and be alone.

The bathroom.

I slammed it shut, twisted the lock, and slid down to the floor before I could even catch my breath. The tile was freezing through my pajama pants. My lungs were shaking. I pressed both hands to my chest, trying to hold myself together like that would actually do something.

"Fury," I whispered. "Fury. Like the ones from the myths. She was my ELA teacher."

My brain kept saying Miss Maggie. The woman who always singled me out Infront of the class. The one who'd always give me Ds.

That was the monster? That thing with wings and claws and eyes that turned black when she screamed?

I doubled over and gasped, because I couldn't breathe. I couldn't—

I really couldn't breathe.

My chest was so tight it felt like it was crushing me from the inside. My vision blurred, and I realized I was crying so hard it didn't even feel like crying. It felt like drowning.

My hands were shaking. I pressed them to my face, then to my thighs, then into the bathroom rug like grounding would help but nothing helped.

"Camp," I whispered. "What camp?"

I hadn't agreed to anything. I didn't even know what was real anymore.

Miss Maggie tried to kill me.

Rose knew about it.

My mom knew and lied to me.

And—oh my god—my dad...

My throat burned.

"Not my dad?" I choked out. "What do you mean he's not my dad?"

I pressed my fists to my forehead like I could pound the truth back out of my head. Like it never happened. I wanted to go back to yesterday, when the biggest thing on my mind was getting home to my mom.

But now...

Now I might never go back home.

I might have to leave my mom. I might die.

And the worst part? A tiny, ugly part of me wished the Fury had just finished the job—because this? This felt worse. This felt impossible.

I let out a sob that cracked in the middle and curled tighter on the bathroom floor, arms wrapped around my knees, my entire body trembling.

"Make it stop," I whispered. "Please. Just make it stop."

I don't know how long I sat there—seconds? Minutes? Time didn't feel real anymore.

My palms were slick with sweat. I pressed them flat to the tile to anchor myself, but it didn't help. The cold of the floor wasn't grounding; it just made me feel more wrong. Like my skin didn't fit anymore.

My heartbeat was like a war drum. I could feel it behind my eyes, pounding so hard it made my teeth ache.

I could still see her—Miss Maggie. Her mouth splitting open in ways no human mouth should. Her voice twisting into that thing when she shrieked "HALF-BLOOD!"

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run until I was so far away that none of this was real.

But I was stuck, cornered in my own bathroom.

I curled tighter, knees pressed hard to my chest, nails digging crescents into the sides of my arms. My breathing came in jagged little gulps now—too fast, too loud—and it felt like there wasn't enough air.

Was I dying? Is this what dying felt like?

Maybe this was all a dream.

Maybe I was still unconscious in the hallway and none of this was real and any second my mom would shake me awake and say, You're okay. You're okay.

But she wasn't here.

She lied.

She lied to me about everything.

About my dad---my stepdad.

She knew. She knew and she just let me believe I was normal.

And Rose. Rose who braided my hair and ate popcorn with me, now knew more about me than I do. Rose lied to my face.

She's not even human.

Another sob cracked through me, this one louder, messy. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my hoodie but it didn't matter—new tears were already replacing the old ones. My whole body was shaking.

I don't want to go.

I don't want to go to some weird forest camp for freaks like me.

I want my mom.

I want my life back.

I pushed my back against the cabinet under the sink and slammed the back of my hand against it, over and over, like if I could just hit hard enough, I'd wake up.

But the cabinet didn't break. And I didn't wake up.

Instead, I cracked.

"I don't wanna go," I sobbed out loud, barely able to say the words through my shaking. "I don't wanna leave you, Mom. Please—please—"

It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Why couldn't the monster just kill me if I was gonna lose everything anyway?

Why did I have to survive only to be ripped away from the one person who actually loved me?

I pressed both hands to my mouth to keep from screaming. A deep, aching scream sat in my chest like a hot coal, waiting to be let out. But if I screamed, she'd hear me. Rose would hear me.

And I didn't want her. Not right now.

I just wanted my mom.

Not the version of her who kept secrets. The real her. The one who used to sing along to dumb pop songs while washing dishes. The one who ran cool hands across my forehead when I was sick. The one who used to braid my hair and say I was her whole world.

That was before everything fell apart.

Before monsters were real.

Before I became something else.

I rocked slowly, rhythmically, forehead pressed to my knees.

"In. Out," I whispered to myself, trying to copy the breathing Rose taught me once, back when panic attacks meant test anxiety and not being hunted by hell-creatures.

"In. Out."

But the air still felt thin.

Like the world was pressing in too tight around me.

I didn't know how I was supposed to survive any of this.

I didn't even know who I was anymore.

I don't know when the tears stopped. At some point, my body just ran out. My shoulders were still shaking, but nothing was coming out anymore. Just dry gasps and hiccups and a tight ache in my chest that wouldn't go away.

My head throbbed. My muscles felt like they'd been rung out like a towel. Every inch of me buzzed like static, but I couldn't even cry anymore.

I wiped my face with my sleeve again, even though it didn't really help. Everything was sticky—my cheeks, my nose, my lashes. I felt gross. But I didn't care. Not really. Not right now.

I didn't want to talk.

Didn't want to be hugged.

Didn't want Rose's explanations or my mom's soft apologies.

I just wanted to disappear for a little while.

So, I stood up—on legs that didn't feel totally real—and quietly unlocked the bathroom door. The tiny click echoed way too loud in the silence of the hallway, and I held my breath like someone might jump out.

But no one did.

I padded down the hall, barely making a sound in my socks. The kitchen light was off now, but I could see a warm glow coming from the living room lamp. Someone had left it on. Maybe for me.

The house was too quiet. No voices. No footsteps. Maybe they went upstairs. Maybe they were giving me space.

I didn't care.

I slipped back into the living room, careful not to make the floor creak. The couch still had the  blanket on it. I pulled it around me and curled up on the cushions, facing the back so I didn't have to look at the doorway.

Everything ached. My head. My chest. Even my jaw from clenching it too hard.

I didn't mean to close my eyes.

I just... blinked a little longer than usual.

Then again.

Then again.

And before I even realized it, I was gone.

I sank into the cushions, heavy and hollow all at once. And the world, for the first time in hours, finally went quiet.

05/29/25

A/N - Ahh this chapter took so long to make :') Any bit of support like a follow, comment, like, or save really makes my day. If you read this when I first publishes it, this chapter was longer and I decided to break it into two smaller chapters because it would've been too much for my readers (you guys <3)

Sagemeadowsxoxo

© All Rights Reserved

Chapter Text

The smell of the bathroom had officially won.

Me and Rose were seated in the last row of the bus, directly in front of the busted metal door that barely latched shut. You know, the kind that wheezed every time the bus jerked forward or hit a pothole. And the smell, oh my god, it was an unholy blend of mildew, old Lysol, and what I was pretty sure was someone's leftover Mexican food situation.

I had pressed myself against the window like that would somehow help, like it would save me from the rot creeping through the air. Outside, the city was beginning to stretch upward. The skyline blurred through dirty glass: tall gray buildings, traffic-clogged streets, and people walking too fast like they were trying to outrun their lives.

My stomach was twisting, and not just from the smell.

No. It was everything. All of it. The whole day.

I had learned three things this morning, all in the span of like, an hour:

The man who raised me? Not my real dad.

My actual dad? A literal god.

My best friend? She's not a normal human girl. She's a satyr. With hooves. And horns. And a fake name.

That's the kind of stuff you normally find out after a mental breakdown or at the very least during a fever dream. Not on a random Thursday morning in the end of May, sitting next to a girl who just revealed she's been lying to me our entire friendship.

Rosea. That's her real name. Not Rosie. Not "my girl." Not the nickname I'd carved on the inside of a park bench last month while we shared a bag of sour gummies. Rosea. A satyr. One of the mythical protectors of demigods. Like me.

Apparently, I was one too. A demigod. A half-blood. A walking Greek tragedy with daddy issues.

And I didn't even know which god was responsible for me yet.

My fingers were digging into my jacket pockets, and my eyes kept darting outside to anything—anything—to ground me. That's when I saw them.

A centaur. Just for a split second.

He crossed an alley between a pharmacy and a loading dock. A tall man from the waist up, all beard and muscles and a messenger bag over his shoulder—but from the waist down, it was pure stallion. Brown glossy coat, tail flicking like he was irritated about missing a train. He didn't look at me. Didn't break pace. Just moved with this confident, invisible rhythm that the rest of the world didn't see.

Then he was gone.

A second later, three figures shuffled past the same alley. Satyrs. Not dressed like fantasy book versions, either—they wore hoodies, sneakers, oversized sunglasses that couldn't hide the faint curl of horns peeking through. They looked... normal. And not normal at all.

I pressed my forehead to the glass, heart pounding.

Was I hallucinating? Delirious? Could someone snap their fingers and wake me up from this dream now?

Next to me, Rosea was dead asleep, curled up in the most satyr-like way possible. Her fake human legs were pulled up tight beneath her, arms crossed like she was used to riding this way. Like she'd been doing it forever. One of her horns was resting against the window above her head. She let out a little snore that sounded vaguely like a goat's bleat.

I hated how peaceful she looked. How fine she was with everything. Like this was just another normal hang out.

I wanted to wake her up and scream. I wanted to shake her and ask her how long she'd been lying. How many times had we talked about family, about feeling like outsiders—and she just sat there with that secret smile, knowing?

But also... I didn't want her to wake up.

Because if she did, then this would be real. Then I'd have to face it.

The bus jolted as it slowed down into the Midtown drop-off, and I grabbed the headrest in front of me for balance.

"Rosea," I said quietly, nudging her arm. "Hey. Wake up. We're getting off soon."

She blinked awake, slow and dazed, rubbing her eyes. "Wha...? Already?"

"Yeah." I swallowed hard. "Time to switch."

She yawned and sat up, stretching her arms with a squeak of her joints. Her hoodie slid up her arm, revealing soft brown fur that faded into skin again at the elbow. Like it wasn't a costume. Like it was her.

"It's weird," I muttered.

"Huh?

"Seeing you like this. Knowing."

She paused, then pulled her sleeves down carefully. "I was gonna tell you."

"Were you?"

"I was. If you didn't get attacked we'd have a normal sleepover and then we'd have time to ease into the—" she waved her hands vaguely, "—mythology part."

"Well, great job easing me in. I'm super chill about it," I said, voice sharp.

She didn't respond. Just grabbed her bag and stood when the bus hissed to a halt.

We stepped off into the sticky New York spring morning. Midtown smelled like hot concrete and food carts, and I welcomed it—bad air and all—because it wasn't the bus.

Rosea stretched her arms high overhead, popping her back like a cartoon character. "We've got twenty five minutes to get to the Penn Station gate."

"Is that enough?"

"More than enough. Snack break?"

We grabbed pretzels from a street vendor just outside the terminal, mine steaming and salted perfectly. I didn't even wait to sit—I started tearing it apart as we walked, chewing like it might anchor me to the earth.

Rosea munched trail mix beside me, sniffing and her eyes scanning the crowd in weird little zig-zags.

"You're doing that thing again," I said.

"What thing?"

"The paranoid deer thing."

She gave me a side-eye. "Because I'm picking something up."

I froze mid-bite. "What do you mean picking something up?"

"A scent. There's something following us. I don't know what yet. But I can feel it. It's hiding really well."

Suddenly the pretzel in my hand felt a lot heavier. "Like... a monster?"

"Uh- yeah, most likely."

"Cool. Cool cool cool," I said, voice cracking. "Because we needed more of those today."

"Could be harmless," she lied badly. "Some of them just linger near demigods. Not all of them attack. Some of them just... stalk."

"Oh, great. Stalking is totally chill."

We made it to the boarding gate just as the last call rang out, and Rosea shoved us into the line. The bus ahead looked newer, cleaner—less like it was one toilet flush from exploding.

As we climbed on, I sat near the window again and sighed. Rosea sat next to me, quiet.

This time, I didn't even fight it. I leaned my head against the glass and closed my eyes.

Sleep dragged me down like someone tackling me.

The third bus was quieter.

Not because the people on it were less annoying—there was a baby up front wailing like the underworld had personally offended him—but because everything inside me had gone still.

I don't know how long I slept. Maybe thirty minutes. Maybe more. I woke up with my forehead stuck to the window, the condensation mixing with sweat from my temple. I sat up slowly, my heart already racing. Like my body knew something was wrong before my brain could catch up.

The bus rocked gently as it moved through the outer edge of the city, then into a road going through the woods.

Real woods. Not a few park trees and trash-stained sidewalks. I'm talking full-on forest. Thick trunks. Shadows that moved a little too much. Green that went on forever.

Rosea sat beside me, arms wrapped tight around her bag, her fake heel tapping the floor in a jittery rhythm. Her head was up now. Eyes scanning. Her ears—pointed and furry now that I knew to look—twitched like radar dishes.

"Where are we?" I whispered.

"Closer than we were," she said, which was not helpful.

"You good?"

She nodded. Didn't speak.

I shifted in my seat. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, but it wasn't just fear—it was this buzzing under my skin, like I was plugged into something bigger than me. Like the trees were watching. Like I didn't belong, but I was being called anyway.

"Rosea," I said again, this time softer. "What is it like? Camp?"

Her eyes flicked toward me, then back out the window. "Safe," she said, finally. "Safe and loud. You'll probably feel like you don't fit in at first. But then you'll find people who are just as weird as you. We've got cabins for each godly parent. You'll get sorted once yours claims you."

"And you? Where do you stay?"

She smiled faintly. "Satyrs stay in the woods. Some sleep near the Big House. We're not big on... walls."

I nodded slowly.

"And where do you go when your not claimed?" I asked. "You mentioned that earlier."

"Hermes cabin. He's the patron god of travelers. You'll see."

I felt like I was memorizing flashcards for a final exam I didn't know I was taking. Gods. Spirits. Creatures. None of it felt real, and yet every breath in this forested bus ride felt more real than anything from my life before.

"What about my mom?" I whispered. "Will she be okay?"

Rosea turned to me fully now. "She'll be okay. Monsters usually don't go after mortals unless the barrier between you and them breaks. You were protected... until recently."

My stomach twisted. "Because I'm getting older."

"Because your scent is stronger now," she said, tapping the air in front of me. "To them, you smell like divine blood. Like a walking power source."

I leaned back into the seat, overwhelmed, "Is that why we're always sitting by the bathroom?"

She nodded and we were quiet for a few minutes.

Then, suddenly, Rosea's head snapped to the window.

Her breathing changed—sharper, shorter.

"What?" I asked, sitting up straighter.

"I know who it is now," she whispered.

My mouth went dry. "Who?"

"Miss Maggie."

My blood ran cold.

"No," I said. "That's not possible. She's—she's flown away. She's just—"

"She's not a teacher," Rosea snapped. "She's a Fury. A monster in disguise. She's been tracking you. Probably since your powers started stirring. And she's close. Really close. I can feel her."

We both looked toward the emergency exit at the back of the bus.

I felt like she might burst through it at any second.

"How close?" I whispered.

"Close enough to smell you. Maybe even see you. But she won't attack on the bus. Too many mortals. She'll wait until we're alone. That's when monsters prefer to strike."

I shivered and grabbed my bag. "So what do we do?"

"We get off at the next stop. That's our last stop. Then we run."

The bus pulled off the road into a little gravel clearing that barely counted as a stop. There was no bench, no sign. Just a dirt path and an old wooden post with faded graffiti.

Rosea was up first. She reached out, yanked me to my feet.

"Ready?"

"No," I said, honest. "But go."

We stepped off, and the moment my foot hit the gravel, the temperature felt different.

Cooler. Wetter. Like magic hung in the air.

"This way," Rosea said, pointing toward the forest trail.

There was a gate—a barely visible shimmer in the air like heat off pavement—and when we passed through it, the world changed.

Suddenly, the sounds of the road disappeared. The birds sounded... off. More musical. More alert. Even the wind through the leaves had a rhythm to it.

This path was thin and winding, barely wide enough for us to walk shoulder to shoulder. Roots jutted out in all directions. We didn't talk. We didn't stop.

We jogged down the slightly worn path.

My breath came quicker, and I wiped sweat from my neck. "You okay?" I asked, noticing Rosea was limping slightly.

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Half-truth. I these fake legs hurt to run in. But I'm not dying."

"That's not comforting," I muttered.

We turned a bend, and the path opened up slightly into a view of a long stretch of dirt road. Far ahead—barely visible through the trees—I saw it.

A lone pine tree on a hill.

The sky behind it glowed golden with afternoon light. The air shimmered. It was beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.

"Thalia's Tree," Rosea said. "We're almost there."

"Almost," I echoed.

But then her eyes widened.

She froze.

"What now?" I hissed.

"She's here," Rosea whispered. "Miss Maggie's on the path. She's coming now."

We bolted.

We didn't speak. We ran.

The second Rosea said she's here, something in the air cracked. Like the forest itself had stopped breathing. Like everything inside me knew we were being hunted.

My feet hit the path hard—dirt, roots, stones—and I didn't care that my backpack was slamming against my spine or that I could barely breathe. Rosea ran ahead of me, fast for someone with hooves, her satyr instincts kicking in. But I was no slouch either. I'd spent most of my life running—from teachers, fights, the truth about my dad—and now it was all catching up with me at once.

The path blurred. Trees rushed by in streaks of green and shadow. All I could hear was the thud-thud-thud of our feet and the sharp crack of branches breaking behind us.

"She's gaining!" Rosea shouted, glancing back.

I didn't look. I couldn't. If I looked, I'd fall. If I fell, I'd die.

"Oh my god—"

"Don't turn around!"

We tore through a narrow passage where the trees bent low, the sun blinking in and out between branches. Ahead, the dirt trail began to slant upward—steep, uneven, rocky.

I recognized the angle. The pine tree. The slope.

We were so close. 

Thalia's tree shined at the tope of the hill. Golden light streamed between the trees above the hill, and the shimmering boundary of Camp Half-Blood pulsed like a forcefield waiting to open. I could feel its pull—warm, welcoming, like a heartbeat I hadn't heard since birth.

Safety. Sanctuary.

We just had to get there.

And then—behind me—I heard her.

A low hiss. A voice that wasn't quite human anymore.

"Ronnnnnnnieeeeee..."

My blood froze.

"Don't stop!" Rosea yelled.

But the hiss was closer now. Louder. Wet.

"You got lucky at the zoo, child" Miss Maggie called out. "You reek of your father's scent. Of power. But you are mine now."

"Keep going!" Rosea shrieked.

We hit the base of the hill. My legs burned like they were being eaten from the inside. My throat was raw from breathing so hard, and I could feel hot tears streaking down my face.

Just a little further. Just a little—

Then it happened.

I heard a thud and Rosea fell to the ground.

Her fake foot got caught on an exposed root—one stupid gnarled twist of wood—and she went flying. She hit the ground hard, her hands scraping dirt, her shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.

"ROSEA!" I screamed, sliding to a stop beside her.

She rolled over, throwing off her fake leg. 

She clutched her real leg. Blood soaked through her pants and onto the dirt. She winced, trying to get up on her feet, her face twisted in pain.

"Don't stop," she said, voice sharp and breathless. "Keep going."

"I'm not leaving you!"

I tried helped her up but she just screamed, "You have to! She right behind us!"

I looked over my shoulder and she was.

It wasn't the ELA teacher with crooked glasses and pink fleece cardigan anymore. What stood before us was a half-human, half-bird: two long bat wings covered in leaves, each ending in razor claws. Her eyes glowed.

She walked forward slowly, smiling like this was all a game.

"No," I whispered, heart hammering. "No no no—"

"There's no more jaguars around to protect you now, Veronica."

Miss Maggie Lunged.

Everything happened too fast for me to process.

Her claws outstretched. Fangs bared. She was coming straight for me, and I couldn't move.

But Rosea did.

"RONNIE!"

She grabbed my arm and shoved me hard, just as Miss Maggie reached us. I stumbled backwards and hit the dirt, my heart in my throat.

Rosea stood between us, arms out, injured leg trembling beneath her body, "You want her?" she snarled. "You go through me."

Miss Maggie growled and lunged at her again, striking out like a cobra.

Rosea barely dodged it and threw her full weight into Miss Maggie's side.

The monster screamed, losing balance. She crashed sideways into a tree with a sickening CRACK, her massive body tangled in a low-hanging branches. Bark splintered. A branch snapped and wrapped around her waist like a trap.

"NOW!" Rosea, shouted, collapsing to one knee, "GO!"

"But you---"

"I'm not going to make it, "she said, her voice breaking up now, "That's okay. But you can. You have to."

"I can't-"

Tears blurred my vision and I couldn't see my best friend anymore.

"Ronnie," she said gently, even with blood in her teeth," Please. Make it mean something." 

I looked at her, shaking. Her face. Her Curls. Her Hoodie. My best friend. My protector. The person who'd always known who I was even before I did.

Then Miss Maggie screamed, tearing herself free.

Her claws ripped through the branches. Her body surged toward Rosea. Fangs inches from her throat.

Rosea turned to me, one last time.

"Run."

And then she tackled Miss Maggie head-on, both of them crashing down the slope together, locked in a violent bur of limbs

I didn't wait to see what happened next.

I turned.

And I ran. 

Up the hill.

Faster than I'd ever run in my life.

I crossed the boundary, it felt like pushing through warm glass, The air shimmered. The world changed.

But then I stopped.

My chest heaving and limbs shaking.

I turned around.

And saw her.

Rosea was still on the other side.

She was collapsed on the grass, her hoodie torn, curls matted with blood. Her leg twisted wrong. Her eyes locked with mine—wide, wet, and terrified.

There was a hole in her chest.

Not a scratch. Not a cut.

A hole.

Like Miss Maggie had stabbed straight through her with something. Her hands pressed to the wound like she could hold herself together, but it wasn't working. Her fingers were drenched in red.

I opened my mouth but no words came out.

Rosea's lips trembled.

She gave me this weak, broken smile like she was proud of me and devastated all at once.

Tears streamed down her face.

And mine.

She mouthed something.

I couldn't hear it.

I couldn't breathe.

The golden light of the barrier shimmered between us. I was inside.

She wasn't.

Then everything tilted.

My knees buckled. My vision blurred.

The last thing I saw was Rosea, still looking at me, still bleeding, still crying.

And then—

Darkness.

Sagemeadowsxoxo

© All Rights Reserved

Chapter Text

I must’ve woken up multiple times, but when I looked around I felt confused. So, I’d pass out again. I remember laying on a soft white bed in a room with a couple others. There was a girl with blonde curly hair on the side of my bed spoon feeding me pudding. I blushed out of embarrassment and she just smiled as she wiped pudding off my cheeks.

I opened my eyes and she asked, “Are you the one?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, “I don’t…”

Someone knocked on the door and she shoved more pudding in my mouth.

The next time I woke up she was gone and there was an older looking boy. Maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. He had dirty blonde hair and he kind of looked like a surfer. He was leaning in the doorway, looking at me with his blue eyes. He had a scar on his face that lead from the bottom of his eye to his chin.

When I finally woke up for good, the sun was shinning through the window, landing straight in my face and I felt a pit in my stomach.

It must’ve been later in the morning since the sun was almost at it’s peak height in the sky.

The ceiling above me was wooden, like a log cabin. The sheets smelled like lemon soap and pine trees. Outside the window, I could hear birds and kids shouting. Not school kids. Not city noise.

Camp.

None of this was a dream.

Rosea… Rosea was really gone.

I’m such a horrible person. The last moments I spent with her I was being so rude and snobby towards her.

I turned my head toward the window and blinked hard, but the tears still came out. Quiet, slow. The kind that crawl down your cheeks before you even realize you’re crying.

I curled into myself, trying not to sob out loud. My chest ached like I’d been punched. I remembered the way Rosea had looked at me—smiling even while she bled out. The way she’d mouthed something I never got to hear. The way she said please.

My best friend. My protector.

Gone.

A gentle knock on the door broke the silence.

I wiped my face quickly, turning away from the door. “Come in,” I said, but it barely came out louder than a whisper.

The door creaked open and a girl stepped inside. She was wearing an orange camp half-blood t-shirt tucked into her jean shorts. Her blonde curly hair was tied back into a low ponytail and she had sharp grey eyes. She looked well put together, as if she put extra effort into looking nice today.

I recognized her somehow, but I couldn’t remember why.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You’re awake.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She walked over and sat beside the bed, offering me a paper cup of water. I took it with a trembling hand.

“You were out for a while. Three days.”

Three days. My stomach twisted.

I looked away again. “Rosea’s dead.”

“I know.” She paused, then added gently, “I’m sorry.”

We sat in silence. The sounds of camp life floated in through the open window like they didn’t belong to me. Like I’d washed up on some bright, golden shore and left all my broken pieces back in the real world.

The girl didn’t push. She just sat there with me, and that meant more than I could say.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said eventually.

“Well,” she said, standing, “you could start by getting dressed. I can show you around camp. And then we’ll go talk to Chiron and Mr. D. They’ll help figure out where you belong.”

I blinked at her. “Mr. D?”

“He’s the camp director,” she said, already moving to the small dresser beside my bed. She pulled out a fresh Camp Half-Blood shirt and handed it to me. “He’s… fun to talk to.”

“And Chiron?”

“He’s the activity director,” she paused for a second, “You’ll see.”

Beside my bed was my bag and my converse, covered in dirt and blood. I slipped them on and the camp t-shirt she gave me followed the blonde-hair girl to the hallway.

I stared at the floor and remembered why I knew her. She was the one who took care of me while I was out.

I walked outside on to the deck of the building. The sunlight made my eyes hurt when we stepped outside. It was too cheerful. Too… wrong. But the air smelled like strawberries and earth, and a group of boys were playing together while a group of girls where giggling at them. This place wasn’t fake. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.

And I was stuck in it.

The girl explained to me that we were in the infirmary inside of the big house. The big house is this large building that serves as the main administrative building at camp.

She led me across the deck of the big house, straight to a worn wooden table where were two men sitting at a table playing with a deck of cards—well, one man and one… horse guy.

Was that what she was talking about?

He looked exactly like a centaur from a myth book—long brown horse legs, human torso, kind eyes. He looked like the centaur I saw on the bus ride here. The other man had curly dark hair, so dark it looked purple. He wore a tiger-patterned Hawaiian shirt, and looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

They were playing what looked like the weirdest card game I’d ever seen. Two Diet Cokes sweated on the table beside them, and a bowl of purple grapes sat untouched between the cards.

“That’s Mr. D,” Annabeth muttered under her breath. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“Noted.”

As we approached, the centaur looked up and smiled warmly. “Ah. Our newest camper is awake.”

Mr. D barely looked up. “Hooray.”

“Hi, I’m Veronica,” I said.

“Welcome, Veronica. You’ve been through a great deal. " Chiron said, gesturing to an empty chair, “Come sit.”

I hesitated, then sat down between them. The chair creaked under me, like it was warning me not to get too comfortable.

“Annabeth?” Chiron called to the blonde girl.

She came forward and Chiron introduced us. “This young lady nursed you back to health. Annabeth, my dear, why don’t you go check on Veronica’s bunk? We’ll be putting her in cabin eleven for now.”

Annabeth said, “Sure, Chiron.” She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical west coast girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

She sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her and they returned to their game for a moment—-Chiron laying down a series of cards and Mr. D muttering something under his breath as he squinted at his hand.

“What game is that?” I asked, watching the way they moved like it was muscle memory.

“Pinochle,” Chiron said. “Mr. D’s favorite.”

Mr. D scoffed. “It is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans.”

Chiron chuckled. “We’ve played for decades.”

I blinked. “Wait… decades?”

“Centuries,” Mr. D corrected without looking up. “Though I was much better at it before I was cursed to run this… delightful camp.”

“Cursed?” I asked.

Mr. D finally met my eyes. He looked me over like he was trying to decide whether I was worth the energy. “You’re nosy.”

“I almost died three days ago. Humor me.”

He sighed dramatically, tossing a card onto the table with a snap. “Zeus got annoyed with me. Something about… chasing a nymph that was off-limits.”

“Zeus assigned him here to supervise demigods,” Chiron added smoothly, either used to this or just really good at ignoring it. “It was meant as punishment, but I think he’s secretly grown fond of us.”

“I have not,” Mr. D said immediately. “Children are sticky, loud, and emotionally unstable. This place smells like body spray and fear.”

Chiron placed a card with the precision of someone who knew he was winning. “You always say that, and yet here you are. Every year.”

Mr. D scowled. “I like the pinochle.”

“You like the strawberry fields,” Chiron said with a knowing smile.

“False,” Mr. D muttered. “They’re adequate. The nymphs are judgmental.”

I tried to hide my smirk. “So, you’re a god. And you live here. With kids.”

“I do not live here,” he said, as though I’d accused him of sleeping in a bunk bed. “I am assigned. There is a very important difference.”

“Right.”

Chiron laid another set of cards. “Your father will claim you, Veronica. When the time is right.”

I hesitated. “And until then?”

“You’ll stay in Cabin Eleven. Learn what you can. Discover who you are,” Chiron said, watching me closely. “Your powers may begin to surface. Keep track of anything unusual.”

Unusual? Like falling asleep and dreaming in full color? Or hearing voices in trees? Or feeling like I wanted to scream and laugh at the same time whenever someone handed me grape juice?

I sat there silently for a couple minutes trying to process all the information they told me. I looked over and Annabeth was back and standing there silently watching all of us.

Mr. D dropped a card dramatically. “Ha! Meld. I win.”

Chiron raised an eyebrow. “You always claim to win.”

“Because I do.”

“You bend the rules.”

“I am a god,” Mr. D said, spreading his arms. “Rules are more like guidelines.”

I leaned forward. “So what exactly is this place? Why is it hidden?”

“The gods move with the heart of Western civilization,” Chiron explained, reshuffling the cards while Mr. D refilled his drink. “Centuries ago, that meant Greece. Then Rome. Then London. Now, it’s America. As long as Western ideals thrive, Olympus adapts.”

“The gods follow the humans?” I asked.

“In a sense,” he said. “Their power is tied to the cultural heartbeat of the world.”

“Which means I had to move to Long Island,” Mr. D added flatly. “A far cry from Mount Olympus.”

“Would you have preferred Jersey?” Chiron asked mildly.

Mr. D actually shuddered. “Don’t joke about that.”

I looked between them, unsure if I was supposed to laugh or be scared. “So, if gods still exist, and monsters are real… what happens if I die here?”

“You won’t,” Chiron said gently.

“You might,” Mr. D corrected. “But not in the boring, mortal way.”

“Very encouraging,” I muttered.

Chiron leaned in again. “This camp exists to help you survive, Veronica. To train you. To protect you.”

Mr. D sighed, like he was already bored. “And if you don’t annoy me too much, maybe one day you’ll get a quest.”

“Not from you, though,” I said, catching the edge in his voice.

He grinned. “Correct. I don’t give quests. I just give headaches.”

Chiron clapped his hands once. “Well. Shall we finish our game later? I believe Annabeth is ready to take you to Cabin Eleven.”

“Finally,” Mr. D muttered. “Off you go, little grape. Try not to start a war.”

I stood slowly. “Thanks… I guess.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “I don’t even like you.”

“But you might later?” I asked, half-teasing.

He snorted. “Not likely.”

Annabeth was already waiting at the bottom of the Big House steps when I came down, sunlight haloing her blonde hair and her Camp Half-Blood shirt somehow looking crisp, even in the humidity. Her face softened when she saw me.

“You okay?” she asked.

I didn’t answer right away. The image of Rosea—bleeding, crying, looking back at me with those terrified eyes—still hung in my mind like fog. I could barely hold it together inside the Big House. Now that we were outside, with the wind brushing against my skin and the smell of pine and warm earth, it all hit again. Not like a punch this time—more like a silent weight pressing down on my chest.

“No,” I whispered.

Annabeth nodded, like she understood. “You don’t have to talk about it yet. Just walk with me?”

I nodded. My feet were heavy, like they knew every step meant I was further from everything that used to make sense. But I followed her anyway.

We walked in silence for a bit. The sounds of camp filtered in—kids laughing in the distance, arrows being fired, the metallic ring of swords meeting in sparring. I could smell something smoky, maybe from the forge or a campfire.

“Chiron said you’d want to know more about camp,” Annabeth said eventually. “There’s a lot to take in, but we’ll start simple.”

“Simple would be nice,” I mumbled.

She smiled. “Come on.”

The Dining Pavilion was the first stop. It sat on a hill with stone columns holding up a roof, but no walls. It was open-air, the breeze carrying the scent of roasted meat and baked bread. Long tables were arranged by cabin, their numbers carved into the wood. At the end sat a big bronze brazier, flames dancing like they were eager to be fed.

“That’s the dining pavilion,” Annabeth said, gesturing to it with a small flourish. “Each cabin has its own table, and you sit with your siblings. The food’s good, but before you eat, you offer the best part to the gods.”

I stared at the brazier. “Offer it how?”

She led me to the front, where someone had just placed a juicy-looking steak into the flames. The smoke rose in a curl, vanishing into the sky like it had somewhere important to be.

“You just scrape a bit in,” Annabeth said. “Say who you’re offering it to. The gods like the smell. Apparently.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah,” she said. “But it’s tradition. And it matters.”

She didn’t have to say more.. Zeus regularly cheats on his wife but I knew I couldn’t say that out loud so I kept my mouth shut and followed Annabeth.

We kept walking. She pointed out the Strawberry Fields, gleaming in rows behind the cabins.

The next stop was more peaceful—the amphitheater, tucked between trees like a secret. Wooden benches curved around a stage, and an old harp rested off to one side.

“This is where we do campfires and singalongs. Sometimes plays,” she said. “You’d think it’s cheesy, but it’s actually kind of nice. Everyone comes together here. It’s where quests get announced, too.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be ready for a quest,” I said quietly.

“None of us are,” Annabeth said. “Not really.”

I swallowed. “You’ve been on one?”

She didn’t answer right away. “No but they’re dangerous, but… you find out who you are. Even if it hurts.”

Her voice dipped on that last part, like she knew exactly what I meant by hurt. I didn’t push it.

As we left the amphitheater and the breeze picked up through the trees, Annabeth tilted her head toward a winding path that cut through a small thicket.

“There’s a lot more to see. Camp’s bigger than it looks at first.”

“Of course it is,” I mumbled. “Just when I think I might understand half of it, I find out there’s a lava wall and kids throwing steaks into fire.”

She actually laughed at that. “C’mon.”

We followed the trail, and it opened into a clearing with a volleyball court. A few campers were mid-game, their bare feet digging into the sand as they leapt and dove for the ball. Across the court, perched on benches with fruity drinks in their hands and perfect hair even in the humidity, were a group of gorgeous girls watching the game like it was some high-stakes Olympic final.

“The volleyball court,” Annabeth said, nodding toward it. “Popular spot for downtime. The Aphrodite cabin usually just watches and critiques outfits.”

I looked over. One girl rolled her eyes when someone missed the ball. Another snapped her gum and adjusted her sunglasses. “They’re demigods?”

Annabeth nodded. “Children of the goddess of love and beauty. Don’t let the lip gloss fool you—they can be vicious.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

We passed a shady grove with a red and white wooden sign: Camp Store.

It looked like a gift shop and a general store smashed together. Wind chimes jingled on the porch, and through the screen door, I could see racks of shirts, bronze keychains, and a bulletin board listing supplies for different quests—backpacks, nectar packets, even enchanted water bottles. A sleepy nymph sat behind the counter, filing her nails.

“If you need gear, you can come here. Toothpaste, new shirts, armor polish. Snacks too. Just don’t forget your drachma pouch.”

I blinked. “What now?”

“Greek coins,” she said casually. “You’ll earn some during chores or capture the flag. Don’t worry—we’ll get you a pouch.”

I added that to my mental list of “wild stuff I need to not forget or else die.”

We came up on the training grounds next. It was huge, like its own section of camp, full of chaotic noise and energy. Kids sparred with swords under a pavilion. Arrows whistled through the air toward painted targets. A tall kid of Hephaestus barked orders at campers testing different armor sets. There were paths leading to everything—sword-fighting rings, the climbing wall, even an armory with racks of weapons gleaming in the sun.

“Training happens every day,” Annabeth said. “We rotate. Swordplay, archery, climbing, wrestling, survival tactics. If you’re going to be a demigod, you have to be ready to defend yourself.”

I paused at the base of the climbing wall. It stretched into the sky and spat real lava from cracks between the handholds.

“That looks like a lawsuit waiting to happen,” I muttered.

“Eh,” Annabeth shrugged. “No one’s permanently lost a limb.”

I stared at her. She smiled, all innocent. I was starting to realize she had a dry sense of humor you could easily miss if you weren’t paying attention.

From there, we followed the scent of metal and smoke to the forge. A low building hummed with heat and noise, sparks flying from inside. Hephaestus kids moved with rhythm, hammering glowing swords, fixing chariots, and adjusting mechanical bird wings. A tall girl with a smudge of oil across her nose was cursing at a malfunctioning automaton.

“They build everything here,” Annabeth said, her voice tinged with respect. “Weapons, armor, traps, gadgets. Some of the best demigods in history were Hephaestus kids.”

I watched a boy hammer a blade until it glowed white-hot, then dunk it into water with a hiss of steam.

“I don’t even know how to sharpen a pencil,” I said.

She smirked. “Good thing you’ll learn.”

Just behind the forge was a surprisingly cheerful looking arts and crafts center. It was built like a summer camp cabin—paint peeling in just the right nostalgic way—with wide windows and a grassy yard. Tables were scattered around, covered in macaroni sculptures, leather bracelet kits, clay projects, and beads strung onto wire.

“Believe it or not, this place is important,” Annabeth said. “We use crafts to make armor straps, charms, and spell markers. Plus, it helps you calm your mind. You’ll need that, trust me.”

There was a kid inside painting a battle scene on a shield with perfect strokes. Another braided a crown of flowers with vines that seemed to grow as she worked. It felt… peaceful. Safe. My eyes lingered there longer than anywhere else so far.

Finally, we curved back toward the U-shaped row of cabins.

“This is the center of camp,” Annabeth said, sweeping a hand across the courtyard. “The cabins. One for each of the twelve Olympians.”

She pointed out each one again, a little more in-depth now. “Cabin One, Zeus. Two, Hera, but no one stays there—it’s honorary. Three is Poseidon. Four, Demeter. Five, Ares. Six, Athena—that’s mine.”

I eyed her cabin, sleek and stone-colored with owl carvings. It looked… smart. I didn’t know buildings could look smart, but that one did.

She continued, pointing to the rest. “Seven is Apollo—archery, healing, music. Eight, Artemis—she doesn’t have kids, so it’s used for her Hunters when they visit. Nine is Hephaestus. Ten, Aphrodite. Eleven, Hermes.”

She finally turned to the most average-looking cabin of all. Peeling paint, a mailbox that had clearly been smashed at least once, and a doormat that read WELCOME (if you steal my socks I will stab you).

It was loud inside. Laughter, footsteps, the occasional thump of someone falling off a bunk. Someone shouted, “Heads up!” and a flying flip-flop barely missed a kid’s face.

“Why do so many kids live in that one?”

“That’s the ‘unclaimed’ cabin,” she said. “Hermes takes in everyone until their parent claims them. Sometimes gods don’t claim their kids right away.”

My stomach twisted. “Why not?”

Annabeth’s jaw clenched a little. “You’ll have to ask them.”

“So… I’ll be in Cabin Eleven?”

She nodded. “Until your parent claims you. Sometimes it happens right away. Sometimes it takes a while. Depends on the god.”

“Do you think mine will?”

Annabeth glanced at me, like she wanted to say yes, but didn’t want to lie. “I think they should.”

Before I could ask what she meant, a camper yelled, “Regular or undetermined?”

I looked around confused, not knowing what to say but Annabeth did, “Undetermined.”

Everybody groaned.

The older boy that I recognized as the one that stood in the doorframe, emerged, stepping down the cabin steps with a smile. “You made it through the grand tour?”

“Barely,” I muttered.

He grinned. “Don’t worry. Cabin Eleven’s used to new arrivals.”

Luke,” Annabeth said, waving him over. “This is Ronnie. She’s new.”

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood,” he said, extending a hand. “Hope you’re not too weirded out yet.”

“Too late,” I said, but I shook his hand anyway. It was warm and steady. Something about him felt grounded.

“I’ll show you where your bunk is,” Luke offered. “It’s nothing fancy, but we’ve got space.”

As he led me inside, I looked back over the training grounds, the forge, the arts cabin, the whole camp. This place was chaos and peace all mixed together. It smelled like sweat, flowers, smoke, and something… old. Ancient.

I looked at the tiny section of floor they’d given me. There wasn’t anything I could put on it, no blankets. All I had to mark it as my own was just my bag. I thought about setting that down, but then I remembered that Hermes was also the god of thieves.

I felt my knees go soft. If I sat down, I wouldn’t get back up again. My head felt like it was filled with glue and buzzing thoughts. I didn’t want to be around more people. I didn’t want to be anywhere except maybe… home.

But that wasn’t home anymore, was it?

“Found you a sleeping bag,” he said. “And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store.” I couldn’t tell if he was kidding about the stealing part.

I said, “Thanks.”

“No prob.” Luke sat next to me, pushed his back against the wall.

“Tough first day?”

“I don’t belong here,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s how we all felt when we first got here.”

The bitterness in his voice surprised me, because Luke seemed like a pretty easygoing guy. He looked like he could handle just about anything.

“So your dad is Hermes?” I asked, trying to break any awkward feeling in the air.

He pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, and for a second I thought he was going to stab me, but he just scraped the mud off the sole of his sandal. “Yeah. Hermes.”

“The wing-footed messenger guy.”

“That’s him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That’s why you’re here, enjoying cabin eleven’s hospitality. Hermes isn’t picky about who he sponsors.”

I figured Luke didn’t mean to call me a nobody. He just had a lot on his mind.

“You ever meet your dad?” I asked.

“Once.” I waited, thinking that if he wanted to tell me, he’d tell me. Apparently, he didn’t. I wondered if the story had anything to do with how he got his scar.

Luke looked up and managed a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Ronnie. The campers here, they’re mostly good people. After all, we’re extended family, right? We take care of each other.”

He seemed to understand how lost I felt, and I was grateful for that, because an older guy like him-even if he was a counselor-should’ve steered clear of a middle schooler like me. But Luke had welcomed me into the cabin. He’d even stolen me some toiletries, which was the nicest thing anybody had done for me all day.

I decided to ask him my last big question, the one that had been bothering me all afternoon. “Annabeth … she said I might be ‘the one.’ What was that all about?”

Luke folded his knife. “I hate prophecies.”

“What do you mean?”

His face twitched around the scar. “Let’s just say I fucked things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went bad, Chiron hasn’t allowed any more quests. Annabeth’s been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He’d had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn’t tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn’t destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until… somebody special came to the camp.”

“Somebody special?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Luke said. “Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she’s been waiting for. Now, come on, it’s dinnertime.”

The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance. Somehow, I knew it was a conch shell, even though I’d never heard one before.

“Eleven, Fall in!” Luke yelled to the cabin.

The whole cabin, about twenty of us filed into the commons yard. We lined up in order of seniority so I was in the back.

Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down.

We crossed through the strawberry fields and came up to the dining pavilion, an open-air marble structure perched on a hill with long stone tables in two rows. Each one had a different colored banner or emblem. The view from here was insane—forest all around, a glimpse of the beach and lake in the distance. The air smelled like smoke, grilled food, and magic.

Campers were already gathering by cabin groups, chattering, laughing, some wrestling over seats like siblings. I had no idea where to go, but Luke gestured for me to stick with him near the end of the Hermes table.

Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent.

He raised a glass. “To the gods!”

Everybody else raised their glasses. “To the gods!”

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue!

My glass was empty, but Luke said, “Speak to it. Whatever you want-nonalcoholic, of course.

I said, “Root beer.”

The glass filled up with the sparking brown liquid.

“Okay, that’s terrifying,” I said.

Luke grinned. “Terrifyingly awesome, yeah.”

I picked up a fork, suddenly realizing how hungry I was.

I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite when I noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion.

“Come on,” Luke told me. As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.

Luke murmured in my ear, “Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell.”

I forgot about that part and blushed, but I couldn’t help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food.

Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. “Hermes.” I was next.

I wished I knew what god’s name to say. I really liked learning about them and I could tell you a lot about them but I didn’t know who to go to help for. Finally, I made a silent plea. Whoever my dad is, tell me. Please.

I scraped a big slice of barbecue into the flames. When I caught a whiff of the smoke, I didn’t gag. It smelled nothing like burnt food. It smelled of fresh-baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good things that shouldn’t have gone well together, but did.

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention. Chiron stood at the front, a wheelchair parked beside the campfire, where flames licked bright orange and purple.

Mr. D was there too, lounging in his tiger-print shirt, holding a glass of purple soda like it was wine.

“Alright, campers,” he said without standing up. “Before we get on with the groaning, stabbing, and general teenage idiocy of the week, we have a few announcements.”

“Capture the Flag,” Mr. D continued in a bored voice, “is Friday night. Cabin Five currently holds the laurels.”

Some of the Ares kids whooped. One tried to throw a roll of bread at them and missed.

A few kids cheered. Others groaned.

“Personally I couldn’t care less but, congratulations” he said, pausing to sip his drink, “Also, I should tell you we have a new camper today. Verruca Newton.”

Luke leaned over. “That’s you.”

“Seriously?” I whispered. “He butchered my name.”

Chiron leaned toward him and murmured something.

“Ah, yes,” Mr. D said with an eye-roll. “Veronica Nelson. That’s right. Hurrah…”

Everyone clapped and cheered. Someone from Apollo’s table gave a dramatic wolf whistle. My face flushed hot, and I barely nodded before sitting back down.

Luke patted my shoulder. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

I managed a small smile. I didn’t feel welcome. Not really. But I appreciated that he tried.

After dinner, Chiron rose again. “And now, as is tradition—Apollo cabin, take it away.”

The amphitheater was already filling up by the time we got there. Stone benches curved around a stage carved into the hillside. Torches flickered. Stars were just beginning to show through the darkening sky.

Apollo’s kids brought out guitars, lyres, drums. We roasted smores and they led us through a few silly songs and then a more serious, sweeping ballad about the gods and the ancient heroes.

People laughed, clapped, even sang along. Campers leaned against each other, half-dozing, full and warm. For the first time since I got here, I didn’t feel like an alien dropped into the middle of someone else’s story. I felt… okay.

Then the lyre shifted into a slower tune. The fire crackled. The air got quiet.

And I remembered.

Rosea, that night we camped out in my backyard, roasting marshmallows, telling jokes that made no sense, laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. She’d made up a stupid song about how Miss Maggie’s class was so boring and we just had to skip it.

I remembered her snort-laugh. Her curls bouncing as she talked with her hands. Her eyes—wild, full of life, full of plans.

Now she was gone.

And I hadn’t even said goodbye.

I felt it hit me all at once, like a punch straight to the chest. The tears came quick, silently, as I tucked my head down and pretended I was just sleepy. The song ended. Campers slowly filtered out, some still humming. Luke gave me a nod and walked ahead.

I followed, steps slow.

Back in Cabin Eleven, the lights were low. Most kids were snoring already.

I got into my sleeping bag, curled under the blanket, and faced the wall.

Rosea’s face was still in my head—bleeding, crying, gone.

I buried my face in the pillow and let myself cry. Quiet. Slow. Until it became the kind of tired that shut off the world.

And I finally, finally, fell asleep.

Sagemeadowsxoxo

© All Rights Reserved

Chapter Text

 I sat up in my bunk, rubbing my eyes. The air was already thick with heat, and the smell of strawberries drifted in through the window. I blinked into the light, but something felt... off.

It wasn't just that everyone else in the cabin was already gone. Or that no one had shaken me awake for training.

It was that Annabeth hadn't checked in.

She'd made a habit of it—showing up with her chin high and a schedule in her hand like she was prepping me for the SATs instead of sword fights. But today? Nothing. No knock on the bunk frame. No sarcastic "Sleep much?"

For a second I thought maybe she was just running late. I waited. Tied my shoes. Waited some more.

She never came.

That's weird since, the last few days at camp I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird.

By the time I got to the field, Chiron had already dismissed the early drills, and a few campers were talking about some "huge scene" at the Big House. No one gave me details. No one even looked at me twice. It was like I'd gone invisible overnight.

I sat through half my training session trying to act normal—sparring, dodging, pretending I didn't notice how everyone kept looking toward the woods. Then, during our break, I wandered off, sweaty and tired, toward the volleyball court.

It was hot out. Kids were yelling. A ball spiked hard enough to rattle the net.

The volleyball court had the usual suspects: a mix of campers trying too hard, others too glamorous to break a sweat, and—of course—the children of Aphrodite lounging at the edge, watching the game like it was reality TV.

I hovered near the sidelines, arms crossed, pretending to watch the game.

"Did you hear?" one of the Aphrodite girls was whispering, eyes wide. "He like, straight-up fought the Minotaur."

"No way," another said, adjusting her sunglasses. "You mean he actually killed it? I thought heroes weren't supposed to survive that."

"They're not," a guy said, twisting a purple friendship bracelet around his wrist. "That's the thing. Chiron's freaking out. And Annabeth? She hasn't left his side."

The first girl asked, "What was his name again?"

"I head it was Percy." The girl said, adjusting her sunglasses again.

I froze.

They were talking about a new camper. A boy. Someone who apparently defeated the Minotaur. And Annabeth—Annabeth, the same girl who sat with me when I cried about Rosea, who said she was hoping for a quest—was now glued to his side.

Just like that.

I guess I'm old news now. I mean what's so interesting about Veronica Nelson? Oh, yeah. Her Satyr died protecting her. But Percy is so cool and strong, he killed a monster!

I stared out at the court as a ball went flying over the net. No one called it. No one noticed me.

Part of me wanted to march right up and ask what was going on. But I didn't. I just stood there in the heat, watching the game I wasn't playing, listening to gossip I wasn't supposed to hear, pretending none of it bothered me.

But it did.

Because for the first time since I got here, I felt something I hadn't yet felt fully at Camp.

Replaceable.

I just wish Rosea was here, helping me adjust to my new life. 

I returned back to my afternoon training and had to sit there in silence while people talked about the new kid killing the minotaur outside of the camp border.

I just needed a break. Training had me sore in places I didn't know existed, and the afternoon sun was starting to give me a headache. So I slipped away during a water break, muttering something about the bathroom.

The girls bathroom wasn't far, just tucked behind the strawberry fields and shaded by a couple of tall, crooked trees. I pushed open the wooden door, ready to splash cold water on my face, maybe scream silently into a towel if no one was around. But before I could step inside, I heard a voice echo through the tile—loud, angry, and soaked with tension.

"Like he's 'Big Three' material," A girl said as she pushed a black haired boy toward one of the toilets. "Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking." 

 Her friends snickered.

I froze, halfway inside. These girls were laughing. Mean laughs. Sharp ones. I recognized the tone before I saw their faces.

Annabeth was just standing in the corner watching this happen.

The big girl with the camouflage jacket on bent the boy on his knees and started pushing his head toward the toilet bowl.

As I was about to try to stop them I heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. 

Then it happened.

The toilets exploded.

Not like a pipe broke. Like—deliberately. With purpose. Water blasted out of the toilet again, hitting the girl with the camouflage jacker straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall. 

She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away. 

Me and Annabeth didn't get spared by the bathroom and we were drenched in toilet water.

As soon as the bullies ran out the door, I immediately knew who the boy was.

The new camper. Percy.

He didn't look like he knew what he'd done, but he looked like he'd definitely done it. The water, the way it moved—it had responded to him. I stared, completely dumbfounded. He was completely dry. I barely noticed Annabeth stepping out from the shadows of the doorway, face glowing like she'd just won the lottery.

Percy blinked at us. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

But Annabeth wasn't looking at him like she was mad. She was looking at him like he'd just solved the biggest riddle of her life. She turned to leave, and that's when she saw me, still standing frozen in the doorway.

Her smile faded a little. "Oh."

Oh. That was it?

I crossed my arms. "So... that's the new guy?"

Percy mumbled another apology and walked past me, dripping water onto the dirt path. Annabeth followed.

She paused beside me for just a second. "He's important," she said simply, like that explained everything.

I stared at her, waiting for more. Some kind of I've been busy or I didn't forget about you. Nothing came.

"Right," I said. Cool, casual. Like it didn't sting. Like I hadn't spent the last few days thinking maybe Annabeth was my friend.

She turned and jogged to catch up to Percy, already pointing out buildings and talking fast like she always did when she was excited.

I stood there alone as the puddles slowly soaked into the grass around my shoes.

The smell of bathroom cleaner and wet socks clung to the air, but the water didn't bother me. It shimmered like it had a will of its own. Like maybe it was alive.

He's important.

What was I, then?
A placeholder?

A wave of something curled tight in my chest—not anger, not exactly. It was colder than that. Sharper.

Jealousy.

But I wasn't going to cry. Not for Annabeth. Not for Percy. Not even for Rosea.

I just stood there and watched the bathroom water snake its way across the dirt, wondering if I'd ever matter that much to anyone.

By the time dinner rolled around, I'd changed into clean camp clothes and was sitting stiffly on my bunk, scrunching my damp hair. The sunlight pouring through the cabin windows was orange now, warm and low, and outside I could hear the other campers heading toward the pavilion.

I wasn't in a rush to join them.

Across the room, Percy sat on the floor. Not even on a bed—on the floor, legs crossed, back leaning against one of the wooden posts like he didn't know if he was allowed to sit anywhere else. The shadows around him were long, but he looked smaller than he had earlier, when water exploded out of porcelain like it knew his name.

He looked... lonely.

I knew the feeling.

I got up slowly and crossed the cabin until I was standing a few feet in front of him. He looked up like I was a monster in disguise, which, at this camp, wasn't an unreasonable fear.

"I'm new too," I said quietly.

He blinked at me.

"I got here a couple days ago," I added. "Unclaimed."

His shoulders relaxed just a little.

"I just wanted you to know..." I shifted my weight, chewing on the inside of my cheek before finishing, "you're going to like it here. Eventually."

I meant it. Mostly. But underneath the words, something else twisted.

I wanted to like him. I did. But he'd barely been conscious for a day, and already he had Annabeth trailing after him like she'd discovered some missing piece of herself. Meanwhile, I'd nearly been killed on my way here, watched Rosea die, and had to figure out everything alone.

He didn't respond, just gave a small nod.

I nodded back and turned around before the silence could feel too heavy. He hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't his fault that Annabeth saw something in him that she didn't in me. I wasn't going to be the kind of girl who fought people over attention. I didn't even want attention.

...Right?

By the time I found a seat at dinner, Percy was already sitting with Luke near the end of Cabin 11's table. A few campers were joking and passing food down, but most of them were watching Percy like he had a spotlight glued to his head. I slid onto the bench beside them, pretending I didn't notice the glances.

Luke was leaning back on his hands, relaxed in that effortless way that made you want to trust him even if you didn't know why.

His glass was empty and I figured he didn't know about the saying whatever you want.

Luke said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want-nonalcoholic, of course."

 Percy said, "Cherry Coke." 

 The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid. 

 Then I saw his face light up, "Blue Cherry Coke."

 The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt and he let out a soft smile.

I was getting up and Percy was about eat his food when Luke reminded him about the offerings. Percy looked so annoyed but Luke must've given him a look, urging him to get up.

I walked behind the two of them to the fire.

 This time I knew what to do. I offered my grapes to the fire and prayed that my dad would notice that I'm his child.

Then I sat back down and listened to Percy and Luke them talk. I didn't say much. But I stayed.

Because I wanted to see what it was like, sitting next to someone the world had already started choosing. And because part of me—the part I tried really hard to ignore—wanted to know what made him so special.

I finished my food, Chiron pounded his hoof for our attention. 

 Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels." 

There was a pause. Then cheers. Cabin 5 started pounding on the table. Apollo's kids clapped in rhythm. 

 "Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson." 

I looked at Percy who was confused and I gave him a smile. 

A few confused glances swept across the tables. I saw Percy's shoulders rise stiffly, and he opened his mouth like he was about to correct him, but Mr. D raised his goblet again and plowed on.

Across the table, Percy leaned toward Luke, whispering, "It's Jackson. Percy Jackson."

Mr. D gave no indication that he cared.

I glanced at Percy and shrugged, trying for a smile. "Don't take it personally. He still doesn't remember my name either."

It was true. He called me Verruca Newton. 

Percy smiled a little, and I felt good for half a second—like maybe I was doing the right thing. Being kind. Being supportive.

But on the walk to the amphitheater, that feeling faded fast.

Annabeth was already next to Percy again, pointing out constellations as we followed the path lined with glowing torches. Her voice sounded brighter when she talked to him, full of that quest energy I used to think she might share with me.

Behind them, someone from Apollo's cabin strummed a warm-up chord on a lyre. Their laughter carried ahead of us like golden thread, light and untouchable.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and tried to keep up.

The amphitheater was already filling up when we got there. Apollo's kids practically glowed as they tuned instruments, their voices harmonizing before the rest of us even sat down. Chiron stood at the front, gesturing for us to take our places.

Percy sat in the row ahead of me. Annabeth slid in beside him.

I stared at their backs.

The music started—some upbeat campfire tune I didn't know. The campers around me clapped along. Someone passed a marshmallow stick. People were smiling, laughing.

But all I could think was how far away camp felt tonight.

I wanted to like it here. I really did.

But watching Percy—watching how easily people were drawn to him, how the energy of the camp tilted slightly in his direction—I felt something twist again in my ribs.

I didn't want to cry. Not in front of Apollo's kids. Not in front of Annabeth. Not in front of anyone.

I just wanted to go back to my cabin. Maybe sleep. Maybe forget for one night that I was still unclaimed. Still invisible. Still alone.

I slipped away from the amphitheater after the third song. No one noticed.

 Annabeth was still next to Percy, and everyone else was too busy clapping, singing, or roasting something to care where I went. I moved fast, keeping close to the shadows, my footsteps soft on the pine-needle paths that crisscrossed camp.

I didn't know where I was going exactly. I just... needed out. Just for a minute. Just to breathe.

My feet carried me through the lantern-lit paths until the pine trees opened into the strawberry fields. Moonlight washed over the rows of sleeping vines, and the breeze smelled sweet and earthy.

The silence here wasn't heavy—it was gentle. Like the ground was holding its breath with me.

I found a spot between two rows of strawberries and sank into the dirt like I belonged there. The moonlight was soft against my skin, and the vines moved slowly in the wind. I don't plan to stay here long, but the silence out here, away from all the songs and laughter, made me feel like I could breathe again.

I sat there with my knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped around them, and drew a line in the dirt with my finger. Then another. Just small squares, waves, and those things I've seen on Greek vases.

"I'm tired," I whispered, not sure if I was talking to the dirt, the stars, or my dad who still hasn't claimed me, "I'm tired of trying so hard to hold everything together."

My hand brushed a leaf near my knee, and I flinched. It curled upward slightly, as if reaching for me. I blinked, pulled my hand back, and laughed softly to myself. "Great. Now I'm hallucinating."

But something pulsed in my chest. A low warmth, like sunlight filtered through wine. It spread through my arms and fingers. My breath caught.

My eyes widened.

The strawberries around me began to grow—not slowly, not gently, but like they were responding to a command I hadn't spoken. They ripened in seconds. Their skins turned deep crimson. The leaves shimmered with dew that hadn't been there a moment ago.

I pressed my palm to the soil.

And suddenly, I felt it all: roots stretching like veins, leaves breathing in the night air, fruit heavy with life. The field was alive—and it knew me. Knew I belonged.

I wasn't summoning anything. I wasn't casting a spell. I was just... finally syncing with something that had always been mine.

My eyes stung, but I didn't cry. I closed my eyes and just sat there, with my hand in the dirt and a feeling like being hugged from the inside out.

When I opened them, something was...different.

The strawberries. The ones right in front of me—they'd grown even more.

Bright red and plump, as big as watermelons. Their vines looked healthier, stronger. They shimmered faintly in the moonlight like someone had kissed them with magic.

I blinked.

"Veronica?"

I spun around. Chiron stood a few feet away, hooves silent on the dirt, arms folded loosely across his chest. The amphitheater was emptying in the distance, campers heading back toward the cabins with lingering laughter and leftover marshmallows.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I just needed a break. I didn't want to be around everyone."

His eyes softened, the way they always did when he wasn't trying to be the wise, intimidating teacher. "You're allowed to want that. But... the strawberries?"

I looked back. The entire row was transformed—lush, overgrown, glowing slightly in the moonlight. Some of the vines were still coiling, still pulsing with slow-growing life.

"I—I didn't mean to," I said, breath catching in my throat. "I didn't even feel it."

A few campers had wandered over, probably shortcutting back from the amphitheater. They froze at the edge of the field, staring at me—and the strawberries that had clearly been supernaturally enhanced.

"What's going on?" A voice asked. Then more footsteps. More whispering.

A few more campers had wandered over, likely trying to shortcut through the fields. And when they saw me, standing in the middle of a glowing row of supernaturally ripe strawberries, they stopped.

Even more followed and almost the whole camp was behind Chiron

And then... it happened.

Then the vines rose—not wildly, but clearly. They shimmered as they wrapped gently around my ankles, like a hug from the earth itself.

The glow above me deepened-purple and wild and strange. The crown of ivy and grapes shimmered brighter, casting faint shadows across the strawberry field. The scent of wine, wildflowers, and storm-soaked earth filled the air.

And then, just like that everyone went quiet.

One by one, the campers around me began to kneel.

Chiron stepped forward, bowing his head slightly. Then he raised his voice in an old, formal way, "Dionysus. Twice-born, god of wine and madness, patron of theater, Bringer of Ecstasy and Terror, Liberator if the soul...Hail, Veronica Nelson---Daughter of Dionysus, god of the vine."

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't move. I could only stand there, bathed in violet light, as the other campers knelt around me.

All of them.

The ones who hadn't remembered my name. The ones who didn't know I existed. Even Annabeth, in the distance, had stopped walking and turned to watch.

Sagemeadowsxoxo

© All Rights Reserved

Chapter Text

Cabin eleven was so happy for me that I got claimed, Luke even gave me a hug. But the next morning I moved into cabin twelve.

It wasn't much to look at on the outside—wooden walls and tangled vines creeping up the white pillars—but there was something about it that made it feel... quiet. Calm. Like it had been waiting for me.

Inside, it smelled like grape juice and wildflowers, and the air was always a little cooler than the rest of camp, even in the heat. There were dried garlands pinned above the purple bunks, old festival masks hanging from the rafters, and bottles of vintage wine stacked against the back wall. Surrounding the back wall was what looked like a common area of two dark purple couches with leopard pillows. Some of the windows where open and I could see flowerbeds 

When I walked in with my things there where two boys inside, my half brothers. They looked about fourteen or fifteen years old and they dressed like they'd just come from a toga party or a gardening club, they were lounging on their bunks playing cards with vines wrapped around their ankles like lazy pets.

"Hey," one of them said with a grin. "You're our sister, right?"

"Uh... yeah. I guess I am."

"I'm Castor," the one with the darker blonde hair said, standing up to help me with my bag. "That's Pollux. We're twins, but I got here first, so I get to boss him around."

Pollux rolled his eyes. "Barely got here first. He's older by like five minutes."

They were goofy and easy to talk to, the kind of guys who didn't make you feel like a burden when you didn't know the right sword stance or what to do when a grapevine suddenly strangled your fork.

They showed me how to calm the plants when I was nervous. How to will the strawberries to ripen just by sitting with them and breathing slowly.

"Sometimes," Castor said one afternoon, "the vines react to how you're feeling. So don't freak out if a flower blooms when you're sad. That's normal."

"And don't go near the tomato plants when you're angry," Pollux added. "Trust me."

When I wasn't training with them, I had lessons—camp survival, ancient Greek, swordplay— with Annabeth and Percy. Which was... weird.

She was laser-focused whenever we trained. Always giving Percy pointers. Always pushing him. Sometime she'd help me but it wasn't like the attention she gave to Percy. I kept telling myself I didn't care.

Most days, I believed it.

One evening, while I was cooling down with Pollux near the strawberry fields, I asked him straight-up.

"Is it stupid that I'm still a little mad at her?"

He didn't pretend not to know who I meant.

"No," he said gently. "But... Annabeth's been here a long time. She wants to go out into the world. You'd be surprised how many of us do."

Castor chimed in from behind us, where he was weaving a vine into a loop. "She's not trying to hurt you, Ronnie. She's just chasing something. We all are, a little."

I thought about that for a long time.

About how maybe everyone here had lost something, and they were just trying to grow past it—even if that meant leaving people behind sometimes.

Even if it meant accidentally hurting someone like me.

Dinner at the pavilion smelled like smoke and roasted garlic and something vaguely lemony. It should've been comforting, but I couldn't get my shoulders to relax.

I tried not to look for Annabeth.

I made my way to the Dionysus table, where the purple and ivy-themed dishes shimmered in their usual messy elegance. Grover the satyr was already sitting there—curled horns, nervous chewing, tail twitching against the bench.

Of course.

He hadn't said a word to me since I arrived. I hadn't said anything either. Rosea's death was like a bad dream I wasn't ready to wake up from, and seeing another satyr so soon... it felt like trying to sew up a wound that hadn't stopped bleeding.

I sat across from Castor and Pollux without looking at him.

But I noticed Percy glancing back and forth between Grover and me like he was trying to solve a riddle. Then our eyes met.

Only for a second.

But it was enough.

He blinked, startled—then turned away, flushing. I looked down at my plate. I didn't know if I wanted him to say something or leave me alone forever.

I just started eating my dinner quietly as an attempt to block out the urges to show how uncomfortable I feel.

Then, as if summoned by awkward energy, Dad appeared.

Wearing his usual leopard-print shirt and grimace, he flopped into his chair at the head table and reached lazily for a Diet Coke. He didn't even bother opening it with his hands. The can cracked open midair and floated to his mouth like it was tired too.

Then he looked right at Grover.

"Goatie," he said with a sigh, "be a dear and check on my canisters of sparkling nectar in the back pantry, would you? The ones not cursed to explode."

Grover blinked. "But, sir—"

"Oh, do I look like I'm in the mood for arguments?" Dad said sweetly. "I'm giving you a chance to earn back my ever-dwindling patience. Run along."

Grover stood, muttering something about bubbles and doom, and scurried off.

Mr. D didn't look at me, but he gave the faintest sideways glance. Just for a breath. A barely-there smirk.

I didn't smile back, but... something in my chest unclenched. Just a little.

He'd noticed.
He cared—in that weird, impossible, totally him way.

After dinner, Castor nudged me as we walked toward the edge of the forest.

"You ready for your first Capture the Flag?"

"Uh," I said. "Define ready."

Pollux laughed. "You'll be fine. We're on the red team this round—Annabeth's on blue, obviously. Hermes and Apollos cabins too."

"Great," I muttered. "Just the smartest and biggest cabins."

"Exactly," Castor said with a grin. "We'll be in the woods. You, me, and Pollux—boarder patrol."

He nudged my shoulder. "Don't be nervous. We're supposed to be unpredictable. That's our whole vibe."

"And a little chaotic," Pollux added, "but in a poetic way."

The stars were just starting to come out.

The forest would be dark, full of glowing torches and yelling demigods and swords clashing through the trees.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my heartbeat.

Because whether I liked it or not... I had to play capture the flag against my friends.

The torches were already lit when we got to the edge of the forest. Shadows danced across the clearing like they were excited for blood.

Chiron stood near a large flat rock, adjusting a bronze chest plate over his horse half. He looked exactly how you'd want a mythological war instructor to look—wise, calm, a little tired of teenagers.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the rock.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!

A few kids chuckled. 

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide shields coated in metal.

I picked a long bronze sword and a sturdy circular shield that was slightly chipped along the edge. It felt like it had stories. I put on donning red armor that smelled faintly of old wine barrels and garden soil. I tightened the straps on my chest plate while Pollux twisted a crown of ivy into his hair like a fashion statement.

The red team gathered near one side of the woods: me, Castor, Pollux, a few Ares kids, and the other cabins I hadn't talked to yet. Clarisse, the angry-looking Ares girl I'd seen dunk Percy's head in a toilet, stepped forward like she owned the world.

"Alright," she snapped, holding her helmet under one arm. "Dionysus cabin—vine patrol. You three go deep into the trees and set up traps. Tangles, roots, anything that slows them down."

Castor gave a mock salute. "Got it."

Clarisse narrowed her eyes. "Try not to screw it up, wine babies."

We didn't wait for her to say more. The three of us ducked into the trees.

The deeper we went, the thicker the forest got. Moonlight barely touched the floor. Castor and Pollux moved quickly, their fingers brushing ferns and vines as they passed. I followed close behind, copying what they did—guiding the plants, not forcing them. It felt like breathing. Like the woods were listening.

At one point, I stopped and pressed my hand to the earth. A thicket of wild grapevines slithered forward, curling over a low path.

Pollux whistled. "That's a good one. They'll never see it coming."

The conch horn sounded.

A moment later, the forest exploded into shouting, steel, and footsteps.

The game had begun.

I stayed hidden in the shadows of a thick tree trunk, heart pounding in rhythm with distant clashing.

Someone crashed through the bushes—a Hermes kid, blonde and wiry. He spotted me too late. I sidestepped, swung my shield up, and deflected his first hit.

He grinned. "New girl's got reflexes."

I didn't answer. Just parried again, pushed him back with the flat of my blade. He twisted away and ran.

"Coward," I muttered—until I heard the sharp snap of vines pulling tight.

He yelped and flipped face-first into my trap.

"Nice," Castor called from somewhere behind me.

But I barely had time to laugh before another camper—a tall girl from the Apollo cabin—came at me swinging.

We exchanged blows, her strikes fast and wild. I blocked most of them, staggered once, caught my footing, and raised my shield again.

"Not bad," she said, breathing hard.

Then the second conch horn echoed through the trees.

Game over.

Shouts turned into groans. I could already hear someone yelling, "Who got the flag?!"

Pollux grabbed my hand, and the three of us rushed toward the red team's side, where a small crowd had started to gather. Someone held the flag.

Blue team.

 I heard Clarisse scream from far away, "You idiot! You corpse-breathing worm!"

"Where's Percy?" someone else yelled.

There was so much screaming, Clarisse upset over losing and the blue team celebrating their victory over us.

That's when we I heard it.

A canine bone-shaking growl, shaking the forest.

Everybody turned toward the sound.

 Through the trees you could see a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

Me and my brothers bolted towards it.

By the time we reached the creek, chaos had already erupted.

The hellhound lay on the ground, unmoving, covered in glowing green wounds.

Annabeth was screaming, "Quick, Percy, get in the water!"

We stopped at the edge of the trees just in time to see wounded Percy stepping back into the stream. The water surged around him, lifting his hair, mending cuts that had been bleeding a second ago.

Then the light came.

A soft glow above his head—a trident, shining brighter than anything else in the forest.

Everyone froze.

Even Chiron.

Annabeth pointed to the top of Percy's head and he looked bewildered and asked who his father was.

Then Chiron bowed his head slightly like he did when I got claimed, "Poseidon," he said, "Earthshaker, Storm bringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."

One by one, the others knelt too.

Except me.

I stood there with Castor and Pollux, still catching my breath.

And for a second, I wasn't sure what I was feeling.

Relief. Awe. Resentment. Wonder.

It swirled in my chest like wine in a goblet. Sweet and sour at the same time.

Because I'd seen Percy bleed, and I'd seen him glow, and I didn't know which version of him scared me more.

Pollux grabbed me by my arm and made kneel on the soil, "Did you know he was a kid of the big three?" He whispered.

I silently shook my head no. 

The girls bathroom should've convinced me that he was, but my anger towards Annabeth made me forget about the exploding toilets.

But after staring at Percy, who was in shock just like everybody else, I finally understand why Annabeth acted how she did.

Sagemeadowsxoxo

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Chapter Text

 Annabeth still taught me  and Percy Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Every time Percy said something, she scowled at him, as if he'd just poked her between the eyes.

He'd look at me like I had any idea what that was about and I just shrugged 'I don't know'

Deep down, I'm kind of glad Percy gets to see how I feel when he gets special treatment over me and I'm also glad me and him got closer. But it still felt...weird.

We were bonding over Annabeth going crazy and I'm glad me and him are friends but it felt wrong.

That night after dinner, I fell asleep early.

I just... crashed. Hard. After the Annabeth drama and training, my bones felt like jelly and my brain was a flickering candle on its last inch of wax. I curled up in my bunk, pulled the purple blanket over my head, and let the hum of the grapevines outside the window lull me under.

That's when the dream started.

It didn't feel like any normal dream.

The air was thick and cold. The kind that wraps around your lungs and makes it hard to breathe. I was barefoot in a field full of tall, brittle grass, under a sky that crackled and blinked with lightning that never made a sound. Purple lightning—flickering like a strobe light behind black storm clouds.

I wasn't scared, exactly. More like... watched.

There was a temple up ahead. Crumbling, ancient, swallowed by roots and time. I don't know how I knew it was meant for me, but I did. Dreams don't follow logic. You just know things.

So I walked inside.

And she was waiting for me.

A girl. A little older than me, maybe. Pale as moonlight, wearing a dress that shimmered like spilled ink. One of her eyes was calm, dark, ancient. The other was cracked like shattered glass and stormy like a whirlpool. She smiled at me in that way older girls sometimes do—like she knew something I didn't, and she was waiting for me to catch up.

"Who are you?" I asked.

But my voice didn't come out. It got swallowed by the wind, blowing through the temple.

"You're not ready to understand yet," she said. Her voice sounded like it was echoing through a cave and inside my skull at the same time. "But you will."

She lifted a hand, and shadows formed behind her—four shapes.

One holding a torch that flickered like the lightning above us.

One with a backpack slung around their shoulder.

One whose legs were unmistakably goat-like.

One with a celestial bronze dagger in their hand.

Four.

They didn't speak. Just stood there, blurred around the edges like they didn't belong entirely in the world.

"The thief has stolen more than lightning," the girl said. "To prevent war, he must not walk alone."

I blinked, trying to take a step forward, trying to say what thief? and what war?, but the wind howled like a scream and knocked me back.

The sky cracked open, and burning letters made of stars began to fall—SUMMER SOLSTICE—so bright I had to cover my eyes.

And then I was falling—

I woke up gasping.

Sweat clung to my hairline. My heart was hammering. I sat up in my bunk, pressed my hand to my chest like I could calm my pulse that way.

The Dionysus cabin was quiet. Morning light poured through the vines on the windows. My brothers were already moving around.

Castor was lacing up his combat boots at the edge of his bed. Pollux was eating a handful of trail mix like it was cereal.

"You okay?" Castor asked.

I rubbed my face. "Yeah. I mean—I don't know. I had a dream. It felt... different."

Pollux glanced over. "Monster different or prophecy different?"

"Creepy goddess different," I muttered. "She looked young but she wasn't. She had weird eyes—one was shattered-looking. And there were four people standing behind her. One had a torch. One had goat legs. And she said something about a thief. And a war. And the summer solstice."

They both froze and looked at each other.

"That was Melinoë," Castor said.

I blinked. "Who?"

"Our aunt," Pollux said casually, like this wasn't the most bizarre thing to learn before breakfast. "Goddess of ghosts, nightmares, madness... the works."

"She watches over us," Castor added. "The kids of Dionysus. Sends dreams, visions, things like that."

I stared at them. "So I'm not losing my mind?"

Pollux smirked. "Well. We're children of Dionysus. Bit late for that."

"But seriously," Castor said, more gently, "if she sent you something, it's probably important. You won't get it now. That's how she works. She likes being cryptic."

"She's like that older sibling who says 'you'll understand when you're older' and then disappears in a puff of spooky smoke," Pollux said, tossing a raisin in his mouth.

I leaned back against the wall of the cabin, heart still thumping.

He won't walk alone.

The thief has stolen more than lightning.

Summer solstice.

I didn't know what any of it meant. But it stuck in my mind like thorns in fabric.

It was still early in the morning, before breakfast and I was pretending everything was fine.

I didn't tell Percy about the dream. I didn't tell Annabeth either. I barely said two words to either of them, actually. Not that they noticed — they were busy talking in low voices between archery and climbing wall, like they already knew something important was about to happen.

Annabeth kept snapping at Percy during their early morning training.

"No, Seaweed Brain, that's not how you hold a sword," she said, yanking his arm into position.

He made a face but didn't argue. Honestly, I couldn't tell if she was mad at him or if that was just how she treated peopled. Either way, it made me grit my teeth.

I tried not to care.

But I did.

I was still thinking about the dream — the goddess, the torch, the thunder, and the confusing warning — when I spotted them slipping away from the armory

I stopped in my tracks.

Grover walked up to the two of them, "Mr. D wants to see you, Percy." 

They were quiet, walking shoulder to shoulder. Percy looked confused, like he didn't understand what was happening. Annabeth stayed back while Grover and Percy counited walking to the big house.

The summer solstice. 

I didn't need anyone to tell me. I just knew.

Grover was taking him to talk to my dad about the summer solstice.

And I wasn't invited.

I could've followed them. I could've asked what was going on. But I didn't. Instead, I turned and headed back toward Cabin 12, my stomach tight with something that felt like anger but settled more like disappointment.

The cabin was quiet when I stepped inside. Just me and the smell of sun-warmed grape vines curling around the windows. I sat on my bed and stared at the floor, trying not to feel like a background character in someone else's story.

I didn't mean to sulk. But I did.

I was lying down and hiding under my pillow when I heard the sound of hooves outside. Measured, heavy, familiar.

A soft knock.

"Come in," I said, straightening up.

Chiron stepped inside, ducking slightly under the doorway. His eyes were kind, like he already knew exactly what I was feeling.

"Ronnie," he said. "I imagine you saw Percy and Grover not too long ago."

I nodded.

"And you weren't sure whether you should've gone with them."

"...No."

"Understandable," he said gently. "It's difficult, being kept in the dark. Especially when you know you're meant for more."

I blinked. "Did my brothers say something?"

"They mentioned your dream. And Melinoë."

My heart twisted.

"She told me... well, showed me things. About the lightning being stolen. About someone going on a quest. Three of us. But I don't understand it."

"You're not meant to understand all of it yet," Chiron said. "Prophecies have layers. Clarity comes with time. But Melinoë doesn't waste her warnings. And she doesn't choose just anyone to show them to."

"Why me?" I asked quietly. "I'm not important."

Chiron smiled — not a cheerful one, but like he'd heard that a thousand times before. "The children of Dionysus often think that. But your father may have more influence in this world than you realize."

I looked down, unsure what to say.

"Percy is in the attic now, receiving the Oracle's prophecy," Chiron said. "When he returns... everything will begin to change"

He turned to go but paused at the door. "And Ronnie?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not being left behind. Come with me to wait for Percy."

Then he walked away, hooves echoing gently down the path and I followed him.

He lead me near the table I saw him and dad playing pinochle on when I first got here. He told me to wait here with Annabeth and I looked around and she wasn't there.

 I looked again and she was standing there telling me to be quiet and that it was just her cap of invisibility. Chiron walked back to the table and I heard another set of footsteps, Percy's footsteps. Annabeth put a finger to her mouth, signaling me to be quiet as she put her cap on and watched Percy and Chiron talk.

I peaked my head around the corner just enough to see them and I noticed Grover was also there.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop.

Okay, that's a lie. I totally did. But its not like I was spying--- I was just following a feeling.

Something deep in my chest said don't go back yet. So instead of staying in my spot I found myself near the back veranda, behind a tall hedge of hydrangeas.

That's when I heard Percy's voice.

 "She ... she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned." 

I knew it," Grover said. 

 Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

 Percy hesitated, "No," he said. "That's about it." 

 He studied Percy's face. "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

There was more talking but a part of my ADHD that I hated was sometimes when it gets noisy I can't hear conversations.  

 "But a quest to ..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year." 

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

I froze. 

Percy Jackson, the kid who made bathrooms explode, has to go on a quest.

They counited talking back in fourth about how Percy's quest. He has to travel to the underworld entrance in LA and get Zeus' master bolt from Hades and return it to Mt. Olympus before the summer solstice so a war between the gods doesn't break out.

There was a pause, and then Grover asked, "Is Percy going alone?"

"No," Chiron said firmly. "He may bring three companions. That is tradition."

"Then I'm going," Grover said immediately. "Percy saved my life and—"

"You are going," Chiron reassured him. "That is not up for debate."

Another pause.

"And I've already spoken to Annabeth," Chiron added. "She's volunteered."

 The air shimmered behind Chiron. Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.

My heart sank. Of course she did.

She was about to open her mouth to say something but then he said—

"There is one more I believe should go."

He paused. My chest tightened.

"Veronica Nelson."

I blinked.

"She's had a dream," Chiron said, quieter now, like it was something sacred. "A vision from Melinoë. That alone would be enough to involve her. But beyond that, I believe the gods are aligning her path with yours."

I stepped out from behind the hedge before I could stop myself.

Four heads turned.

I looked at Percy first. He seemed surprised, like he hadn't even realized anyone else might be involved. Grover gave me an awkward little wave, and Chiron's expression was calm, like he'd known I was there the whole time.

"I heard... some of it," I said quietly. "Not on purpose."

"Well," Chiron said gently, "you're here now."

Percy looked between the three of us. "So... we're really going? The Underworld? Like, actual monsters and death and stuff?"

"Yes," Chiron said. "And if Percy accepts the three of you... your quest will begin this afternoon."

My heart thudded once, loud and sharp in my chest.

Percy looked over at Annabeth and felt unsure.

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain," Annabeth said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

Percy replied "That'll work."

 "Excellent," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own." 

 Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather. 

 "No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing.

06/14/25

Word Count: 2164

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