With the adrenaline burned off and no one actively trying to murder anyone, the forest felt... almost calm. For once.
The Huntresses took a few steps back from "on-edge murder squad" and started to look more like what they probably were: a tight-knit, elite unit trying to complete a divine assignment, and now stuck dealing with a chaotic demigod road trip.
We sat in a loose, lopsided circle by the fire — the coals still warm from breakfast. Rhea sat on a log sharpening her knife again, not because she needed to, but because it gave her something to do while being watched.
Which, to be fair, she was.
The four Huntresses kept sneaking glances at her.
Not the angry kind.
The evaluating kind.
I noticed it, Jasper noticed it — he kept shooting me little "is this happening?" side-eyes — but Rhea didn't seem to clock it at first. Or she was just ignoring it.
Finally, the one with braids — her name was Lyla, I think — broke the quiet.
"You fight well," she said, addressing Rhea directly.
Rhea blinked. "I sharpen things well."
"That too," Vala added. "But you didn't flinch when we woke up. Most people would've run."
"I'm not most people."
"No," said the scarred one. "You're not."
Rhea narrowed her eyes. "Are you guys... hitting on me, or recruiting me?"
"Depends," another hunter said with a smirk. "Would it work?"
Rhea snorted. "Not unless your forest girl club hands out big checks."
That got a few low chuckles, even from Vala.
Then another leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. "We serve the Lady Artemis. We don't age. We hunt monsters. We live free."
Rhea blinked. "...Okay. You're going to need to back up and start with what the hell Artemis deal is."
"She's a goddess."
"No kidding."
"And she offers a place. For girls like you."
Rhea tilted her head. "What, sharp girls with mommy issues and a love of knives?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
The hunter with the earrings smiled. "You'd fit."
Rhea leaned back a little, eyes wary but curious now. "Thanks, but... I made a promise. To my mom. I said I'd make it to Camp Half-Blood. Said I'd try. So I'm doing that."
Vala nodded slowly. "Honorable."
"Also," Rhea added, "I'm not a joiner. Not without knowing the fine print."
I cleared my throat. "Yeah, careful. They don't let you date or anything. You basically get moon-powered celibacy and a lifetime subscription to monster hunting."
Jasper winced. "Lucas."
"What? I'm helping."
The one with the earrings rolled her eyes, but the tension was gone now. They weren't angry. Just... intrigued.
"Offer stands," she said to Rhea. "You ever change your mind."
Rhea gave a small nod, then went back to sharpening her knife like nothing had happened.
I leaned over to Jasper and whispered, "They totally want her."
He nodded. "And she has no idea what kind of resume she's sitting on."
"Sharp things, stubborn streak, deadpan comebacks…"
"...Yeah, she'd be terrifying."
Then one of them — the youngest-looking, with a short silver cape and sharp, watchful eyes — stood up.
"Need a bottle of water," she said, almost offhand, not looking at anyone in particular.
I pick it from a bag before she finished her sentence and underhand tossed it toward her.
"Still sealed," I said. "We only drink the good stuff out here."
She gave a tiny nod and stepped off into the trees, not far, just out of direct sight. But not sneaky enough to make me think she was going for a walk. She was still close. Just... not near us.
Rhea raised an eyebrow. "She's not coming back with a bow, right?"
Jasper leaned back on his hands. "Nah. That's an Iris-call setup."
Rhea blinked. "A what?"
"Iris. Goddess of the rainbow, messenger of the gods. If you know the spell, and you've got water and a coin, you can make a kind of divine message."
I scratched my chin. "So, what, like a magic payphone?"
"More or less," Jasper said. "But a lot less reliable if the gods are in a bad mood. Or if you don't have good reception. Which, in this case, means weather."
I glanced up. The clouds were low, but a beam of sunlight filtered through the trees near where the Huntress had gone.
"Looks like she's got a signal."
"Yup," Jasper said, then leaned forward, elbows on knees. "She's calling Artemis. Gotta check in. Or report."
"On what?" Rhea asked.
Jasper glanced at me. "Either the drakon being dead... or the dude in crocs who tied up her squad."
"Hey," I said, holding up a finger. "I didn't kill any of them. That's personal growth."
Rhea gave me a flat look. "The arrow wound in your neck says otherwise."
"I survived. Not the same thing."
The Huntresses didn't say much. Just listened from their side of the fire, letting the conversation roll around them. Eyes on the trees. On me. Still watching, still evaluating.
A bird chirped somewhere overhead. The air felt… still. Like something was holding its breath.
Rhea leaned toward me. "What happens if Artemis gets mad?"
Jasper gave a quiet, honest answer.
"Hope you're fast."
The younger Huntress returned to the clearing, bottle half-empty, gaze sharp.
Vala turned toward her as she gave a single, silent nod.
Something unspoken passed between them — quick, practiced. Then Vala turned back to me.
"You're clear to go."
I raised an eyebrow. "That easy?"
She didn't smile. "Don't mistake silence for forgiveness."
Rhea shifted beside me. "So... what's the word? Do we get cursed? Followed? Hunted?"
Vala's eyes flicked to her, and for a second — just a second — her expression softened.
"No. Not hunted."
Then her eyes settled back on me. Cool. Measured.
"But you've drawn attention."
I sighed. "Yeah, that tends to happen."
"My Lady," Vala continued, "is in Arizona. Tracking something bigger."
"Bigger than a drakon?"
"She believes so."
Rhea gave a low whistle. "Awesome."
Vala ignored that. "She'll be returning east soon. And when she does... she's expressed interest in stopping by Camp Half-Blood."
That made me pause. "…Why?"
Vala tilted her head slightly. "To see the new demigods."
I didn't say anything.
But I felt Rhea shift next to me, suddenly a little less relaxed.
Jasper whispered under his breath, "Oh, gods…"
"She wants to see who made such a mess," Vala added. "And who managed to survive it."
There was no threat in her voice.
But there didn't need to be.
I gave her a dry smile. "Well. We'll make sure to tidy up before she drops in."
Rhea muttered, "I am not cleaning the cabin for moon royalty."
Vala stepped back toward her squad. "Travel safe. Try not to die."
"No promises," I said, slinging my pack over my shoulder.
As we started packing up camp, I glanced over one last time.
The Huntresses were already fading into the trees like silver shadows.
Gone before the breeze even shifted, they really needed to change their body wash, could smell them from miles.
The Harley howled under me like it was born angry.
The road stretched ahead, long and sun-bleached, with heat shimmering off the pavement and not a single cop in sight. Rhea was behind me, calm as always, and Jasper was still latched onto the back seat like a sweaty backpack with anxiety issues.
We were somewhere between Boise and Fort Collins, and the highway was ours.
Then Rhea leaned in and yelled through the wind.
"WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH MOON-LADY?!"
I opened my mouth to say something like 'Goddess of having commitment issues and cool arrows,' but Jasper beat me to it, screaming into the chaos:
"ARTEMIS! ONE OF THE BIG TWELVE! MOON, HUNTING, WILDLIFE — NO PATIENCE FOR MEN!"
"Oh!" I shouted back. "So she'd LOVE me, huh?"
"ONLY IF SHE WANTED TO THROW YOU OFF A CLIFF!" he yelled.
I nodded. Fair.
Rhea shouted again, "AND THE WEIRD GIRLS IN SILVER WHO TRIED TO RECRUIT ME?!"
"THOSE ARE THE HUNTRESSES!" Jasper yelled. "HER SWORN FOLLOWERS! IMMORTAL, MONSTER-KILLING, NO-DATING RULES! KIND OF A VIBE!"
I laughed. "THEY DON'T EVEN LIKE ME!"
"NO, BUT THEY REALLY LIKE RHEA!"
Rhea barked a laugh, raising a middle finger toward no one in particular.
"THEY SAID I'D FIT IN! I TOLD THEM I HAD PLANS!"
"YEAH!" I added. "LIKE RIDING ACROSS AMERICA WITH THE WORLD'S MOST STRESSED SATYR AND ME!"
"I'M NOT STRESSED!" Jasper shouted.
"You're vibrating like a stressed-out squirrel!"
He didn't answer that.
A few miles passed before Rhea leaned in again, hair whipping across my shoulder.
"CAN'T BELIVE WE ALREADY SCREWED UP WITH ONE OF THE OLYMPIANS!"
I groaned loud enough to hear even with the wind. "GREAT! LOVE BEING EVALUATED BY AN IMMORTAL STRANGER!"
"JUST DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT! STRANGER DANGER." Jasper called.
"I'M NOT GONNA STARE AT HER LIKE SHE'S A LUNAR TAX AUDITOR!"
"JUST SAYIN'!"
I adjusted my grip on the handlebars and leaned into a curve, the wind slicing past like it was trying to push me back.
The roads were wide open — no traffic, no cops, no reason not to open it up.
So I did.
I twisted the throttle, and the Harley roared like it had a vendetta. The wind slammed into us like a wall, and the engine responded with a deep, almost gleeful growl. The cyclops tune-up back in Seattle? Yeah. He really hadn't been kidding when he said he "tweaked the limiters."
We were going way too fast.
Jasper was screaming something behind me. Could've been "slow down," or "I hate you," or maybe just pure mortal terror. Rhea? She was laughing. Of course she was.
Trees blurred by. Road signs became suggestions. My hair was being torn in every direction and I was pretty sure one of my earpods flew off somewhere near Nebraska.
I didn't care.
The bike felt like it was made for this — like it wanted to run. So I let it.
By the time we slowed down, the sun was dipping low, and the Des Moines city sign came into view like a divine checkpoint.
I coasted into the first gas station that didn't look haunted.
Brakes squealed, the bike groaned like it was mad about stopping, and we finally came to a shaky, screeching halt near a pump. I cut the engine, and suddenly everything went quiet — or maybe that was just my ears ringing.
"I think I saw God," Jasper added, wobbling toward the convenience store.
Rhea hopped off, stretching her arms and cracking her back. "That was awesome. We should do that more often."
"Absolutely not," Jasper coughed.
I popped the gas cap and started filling the tank. "Told you the upgrades paid off. Feels like flying, right?"
"It felt like death," Jasper groaned from inside the store.
"Same thing."
With the tank full and snacks secured — Rhea grabbed a jumbo bag of spicy chips and a bottle of something neon blue that was probably illegal in some countries — we rolled into the city proper, cruising slow now, letting the buildings guide us.
Des Moines wasn't huge, but it had that middle-of-the-country calm — like it wanted to pretend nothing weird ever happened here.
Too bad we'd ruin that by sunrise.
Eventually, we found a decent-looking motel with glowing red letters, a flickering "VACANCY" sign, and no visible blood stains. Close enough.
I parked the Harley, pulled off my helmet, and exhaled.
"Alright," I said, turning to the crew. "We've got gas, shelter, snacks, and none of us exploded at 120 mph."
Rhea tossed her chips over her shoulder and gave me a grin. "You're growing up."
"Thanks," I said. "Let's go make some motel clerk's night weird."
The motel looked normal from the outside.
Flickering red neon, two stories, the kind of place you'd expect to find roaches doing backflips in the ice machine.
But the second we stepped into the lobby?
Too Greek.
Like… aggressively Greek.
Columns. Murals. Gold trim on everything. A carved statue of Hermes holding up a bowl of breath mints. A full-on fountain burbling in the corner — with actual wine flowing out of it.
I blinked.
Rhea stopped walking.
Jasper took one look around and muttered, "Oh no. No, no, no. This is god-owned. Definitely god-owned."
The front desk was made of marble. A guy in a spotless white tunic and a name tag that said "Phil—Night Manager" gave us a very cheerful wave, like this was all perfectly normal.
"Welcome to The Golden Stag Inn! You're just in time for complimentary olives and poetry hour!"
I squinted. "Do… normal motels do that?"
"Nope," Jasper said, grabbing my arm. "And neither do safe ones."
Phil smiled wider. "Don't worry! No monsters. Divine-neutral ground. You'll be perfectly safe under our patron's protection."
Rhea leaned in. "Which patron?"
Phil's grin widened just a little too much. "Oh, you'll feel it."
The air smelled faintly of olive oil and ambrosia. There were soft panpipes playing in the background from no visible source. A nymph — I'm pretty sure that was a nymph — floated past in a hotel maid outfit, humming to herself while carrying an armful of fresh towels that steamed like they'd been blessed.
Jasper was pale. "I think this is one of Apollo's projects."
Rhea looked around. "Either that or Dionysus got really into hospitality."
Me?
I dropped my bag on the floor and grinned.
"I don't care whose place this is," I said. "If the bed is soft and the wine is free, this might be the best thing that's happened all week."
Jasper whispered, "It's a trap."
"Cool," I said, spinning the keycard Phil handed me. "Let's go check it out anyway."
The elevator ride up had harp music. Not even a recording — we passed an actual harpist in the lounge on the way, strumming lazily while wearing a toga and sunglasses.
"Yeah," Jasper muttered, "this is definitely Apollo's place."
"Could be Demeter's," Rhea said. "Smells like bread and incense had a baby."
The elevator dinged.
We stepped out into a hallway lined with glowing sconces shaped like sunbursts, and mosaic tiles on the floor forming constellations. Our room? 315 — The Mykonos Suite.
I swiped the keycard.
The door opened.
And I nearly dropped dead from how nice it was.
"No way we paid for this."
It had marble floors. A bed big enough for six people. Satin sheets. A minibar glowing faintly gold. A balcony with a view of… was that a labyrinth-shaped pool in the courtyard?
There was a lyre mounted on the wall like a guitar from a rock star's retirement tour. The lights were soft and golden. The pillows were embroidered with constellations.
"Oh no," Jasper said again, staying in the doorway like a raccoon deciding whether to enter a trap.
Rhea didn't even hesitate — she walked straight in and went for the minibar, popping the little fridge open with a grin. "There are grape leaves. Actual roasted olives. Is that… ambrosia in jars?!"
"Mine," I called, diving backward onto the bed like a Roman emperor.
It was absurdly soft. Like laying on a cloud made of smug. I sank in like the mattress wanted to cradle my soul.
Jasper still hadn't moved.
"This is bait. This is classic divine bait. Too comfortable. Too clean. Too catered to our exact tastes."
Rhea popped the lid on a tiny pot labeled "Nectar – Lemon & Pomegranate," tasted it, and actually made a happy little hum. "Okay but it tastes like comfort and victory."
I spread my arms across the giant bed, one leg dangling off the side like I owned the place. "You're all so paranoid."
"You tied up Artemis's Huntresses like luggage," Jasper said. "And now we're in what might be a five-star god-trap."
"Worth it," I said, grabbing a pillow shaped like a laurel wreath and tucking it behind my head. "I'm sleeping like a cursed prince tonight."
Jasper finally stepped inside, shut the door, and sighed. "Just… don't eat any glowing fruit."
Rhea tossed him a jar of olives. "Too late."
The night passed in a haze of comfort.
Soft sheets. Warm lighting. The faint scent of olive trees and clean linen. Rhea took the couch, sprawled like a starfish with a half-eaten jar of olives on her chest. Jasper curled up in a nest of pillows like a particularly tired woodland creature. And me? I was fully horizontal, halfway convinced this bed had healing properties.
Then, sometime around 3 a.m., something woke me.
Music.
Just a few soft notes, played by invisible fingers.
I sat up slowly, blinking sleep from my eyes. The lyre mounted on the wall — the decorative one — was playing itself.
A simple tune.
Light. Familiar.
Then silence.
I rubbed my face. "Okay... spooky magical hotel thing. Great."
I was about to lay back down when I froze.
Because a few hours later, it happened again.
This time quieter. Almost like it wasn't for the room. Almost like it was just for me.
The same melody. But incomplete. Cut short, like a whisper before the end of a sentence.
And something inside me stirred.
I sat up again, slower now. Eyes adjusting to the moonlight spilling through the balcony.
I got up without waking the others, crossed the room, and knelt next to my backpack.
Reached in.
My fingers found the golden lyre I'd been hauling ever since that party with Despoina — Apollo's lyre, apparently. Not that I had a manual or anything.
I pulled it out.
It shimmered faintly in the dark — not glowing, just... reacting. Breathing with the air. Warm.
I looked at it.
Then I looked at the wall-mounted lyre across the room.
Then, almost without thinking, I ran my fingers lightly across the strings.
Pling. Plong. Trrrm.
The notes flowed out of me like instinct.
And the rest of the melody just... completed itself.
The wall beside the bed gave a quiet click.
Then part of it slid open, revealing a narrow stone corridor lit by golden sconces, vanishing into shadows.
I stared.
Then looked down at the lyre in my hands.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
I looked at the wall.
Then at the lyre.
Then at the glowing hallway full of golden sconces and ancient secrets I probably wasn't supposed to know existed.
Naturally, I did the only responsible thing.
I stepped inside.
"Totally not a trap," I muttered under my breath, lyre slung over my shoulder like an expensive ukulele. "Secret passages always mean friendship and treasure. Never curses. Never wrath."
It was dark — dim, golden, but not enough for me to see clearly.
So I leaned into one of my newer, flashier talents.
I exhaled and let the venom swell behind my teeth.
Not enough to spit, just a warm pressure — and then, with a soft burp, a flicker of flame danced from my mouth and hovered in the air like a tiny, angry lantern.
I did it again. Another soft jet of fire.
By the third time, I had enough light to see where I was going — a low, winding corridor carved out of polished marble and veined gold, with symbols glowing faintly along the walls. Greek, mostly. Some Egyptian. And something else I didn't recognize at all.
It wasn't just a passageway.
It was a vault.
No… not even that.
This place had the feel of something old and sacred. Not forgotten — just private.
As I stepped further in, the air shifted.
It got warmer.
Not hot like a furnace. Just… sun-warmed stone, the kind of heat you only felt in places made to honor the sky.
The hallway opened into a chamber, round and domed, with a ceiling painted like the sky at dawn — purples and pinks and oranges bleeding together in impossible, glowing pigments.
And at the center?
A sunburst carved into the floor.
Benches circled the room in tiers, like a miniature amphitheater. Cushions were scattered on the seats. A golden chalice sat alone at the center, catching the firelight and throwing it back like a sparkler.
It hit me all at once — not just the heat, not just the smell of saffron and citrus in the air.
But the vibe.
This was personal.
This was a god's private lounge.
"A… what do you call it," I whispered to myself, stepping onto the sunburst. "Man cave."
It was for the Sun God.
Apollo's andron.
And I had just walked into it with a lyre and fire breath like I owned the place.
"Yep," I muttered, slowly spinning in place. "Definitely trespassing on divine property now."
The music faded.
The golden chamber settled back into silence, but I didn't move. I was still standing dead-center on the sunburst pattern, lyre slung across my back like I had a right to be there. Which I didn't.
Then I heard a door open — not the secret stone one I came through, but an actual door, tucked off to the side, hidden behind golden paneling.
And in walked a man.
Tall. Relaxed posture. Robe half-wrapped around a wrinkled band tee that said:
"Live Fast, Worship Loud."
He looked like a surfer got lost on his way to Olympus. Blond curls tousled from sleep or some godly party, sunglasses still on even though the only light came from the sconces.
He froze when he saw me.
"Oh," he said. "You're… not a nymph."
I blinked. "You're… not housekeeping."
He winced as he stepped in, like the air was just slightly too loud. "Gods, who designed this lighting? It's like being kicked in the face by a sunbeam."
He pulled the sunglasses down just enough to peer at me. His eyes were bright — like sunrise and warmth and firelight all mashed together.
Then he smiled.
"Hey. Don't freak out."
I just stared.
"You're Apollo."
"Bingo," he said with a small bow. "God of music, sun, archery, healing, prophecy, poetry, the occasional plague, and bad decisions made with good intentions. Speaking of which—" He rubbed his temple, groaning slightly. "Olympus throws awful afterparties. Too much nectar. Not enough water."
He looked me up and down, tilting his head. "And you're... Lucas."
My heart hiccuped. "How do you know my name?"
He smiled, friendly but unreadable. "Let's just say I keep tabs on interesting people. You're definitely interesting."
I narrowed my eyes. "Should I be worried?"
"Nah. If I wanted you zapped, you wouldn't have made it past the wine fountain."
"That's… comforting."
He walked past me and flopped onto a cushion with a dramatic sigh. "Man, I forgot how nice I made this place. You like it?"
I glanced around. "Honestly? It's weirdly cozy for a god's goon cave."
"Thank you." He grabbed a grape from a dish and popped it into his mouth. "Used to host poetry slams here back in the day. The Muses hated it. Said my metaphors were 'obnoxiously radiant.'"
I let that sit for a second. Then: "Why did it open for me?"
He looked at me over his shades, suddenly a bit more focused. "Because you played the song."
"I didn't know the song."
"No," he said, smiling gently. "But you still played it."
I swallowed. There was something too familiar about him — the way he sat, talked, grinned like he knew the punchline before I even told the joke.
"You've got good instincts," he said, standing again. "Bit rough around the edges... Very rough, but... it suits you."
I didn't respond. I was too busy trying to figure out if I'd seen him before. In a dream. In a memory that wasn't quite mine.
Apollo gave me a light clap on the shoulder. Warm. Comforting. Like the sun through a car window in the morning.
"Alright, I've gotta bounce. Still got a hangover and a prophecy backlog to sort through. Maybe a bath. Or a nap in the sun."
He turned, headed for the same door he came in from, then paused, glancing back with a lazy grin.
"Oh—and Lucas?"
I blinked. "Yeah?"
He gave me a wink. "Keep playing. You're better than you think."
Then he walked through the door and vanished into golden light.
I walked back through the hidden passage in a daze, the lyre still strapped across my back like it had always been there. The stone wall slid closed behind me with a soft click, as if nothing had happened.
The hotel room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Rhea was awake, sitting up on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders, eyes sharp and locked on the wall I'd just stepped out of.
Jasper was perched by the balcony, peeking through the curtains like someone expecting a SWAT team to drop from the clouds.
They both turned to me at once.
Rhea raised an eyebrow. "So… what did you do?"
I stepped forward, blinking as I adjusted to the light.
"You know how hotels have weird plumbing? Or like, creepy vents?"
"Uh-huh…" Jasper said slowly.
"Well," I said, yawning and stretching like I hadn't just walked out of a divine fever dream, "Apollo lives in the walls."
They stared.
I flopped back on the massive bed like I was dropping into a beanbag chair of secrets.
"Swear to the gods. Like, actual Apollo. Sun guy. Lyre guy. 'Oops I made a plague' guy. He's here. Or was. I think he was sleeping off a divine hangover in his private sun bunker."
Rhea blinked. "...Come again?"
I pointed lazily toward the wall. "There's a hidden room. Opened up when I played that lyre. Big gold chamber. Cushions. Ceiling looks like a sunrise had a baby with a mosaic. He just walked in like it was his place, because, I mean—"
"—It is?" Jasper finished, pale. "You met Apollo? Like face-to-face?"
"Yup." I stretched again. "Super chill. Bit fried. Had party hair. Wore sunglasses inside. Said I had 'good instincts.' Then left through a glowing door after calling me interesting."
Rhea sat up straighter. "He didn't try to kill you?"
"Not even a little! Gave me a shoulder pat. Very cool."
That made them both pause.
Jasper's eyes narrowed. "Wait. He knew your name?"
"Yeah."
"He said you had good instincts?"
"Yeah."
"And he patted your shoulder?"
"Uh-huh."
They exchanged a long, slow look.
I raised an eyebrow. "Okay. What now?"
Rhea said it first.
"Lucas… are you his kid?"
I sat up, suddenly a lot less chill. "What? No. I mean… I dunno. He didn't say that."
Jasper was already pacing. "But he let you into his private sanctum. His lyre that you somehow got opened a wall. He called you by name. And you've got fire breath, a divine instrument, self-healing, and the emotional stability of a daytime soap opera."
I frowned. "Wow. That's… rude. But also not a no."
Rhea grinned. "I dunno. 'Sun Dad' kinda suits you."
"I don't have a sun dad."
"Sure, Lucas," Jasper muttered. "And I'm not allergic to goat milk."
I squinted at him. "Wait—you're actually allergic to goat milk?"
He gave me a deadpan look. "I'm a satyr, Lucas. You think that's funny?"
"I think that's poetic," I said, grinning. "Like, what, are you cursed to sneeze at your own kin?"
"It's a digestive allergy," he said with way too much dignity for a guy who once got headbutted by a hellhound and cried about his lute.
Rhea raised an eyebrow. "So wait... what do you even eat?"
Jasper slumped into the armchair like all of this had personally offended his ancestry. "Oats. Fruits. Non-goat cheese. Basically, I survive on trail mix and depression."
"Explains the mood swings," I muttered.
"You just found out who your dad might be," he shot back. "Don't throw stones from your shiny sun-glass house."
Rhea pointed a chip at me. "To be fair, this does explain a lot."
"What, like the fire breath? Or the fact that I'm covered in tattoos that glow when I stab things?"
"All of it," she said, popping the chip in her mouth. "The musical instincts, the showboating, the dramatic entries, the hair."
"Hey," I said, offended. "My hair is a gift."
"From your probable dad," Jasper muttered.
I sighed and slumped back into the ridiculously soft bed, staring up at the ceiling, where tiny stars flickered like they were winking at me.
"Okay," I said finally. "Let's say I am Apollo's kid. Hypothetically."
"Right," Jasper said. "Hypothetically."
"What does that mean?"
They were both quiet for a moment.
Then Rhea said, "Well, for starters... you're probably gonna get claimed. Like, officially. Soon... at least that's what my satyr said."
"Cool," I said. "Do I get a badge or something?"
Jasper nodded solemnly. "You get a shiny symbol above your head in front of your peers. Hope you're not shy."
"Sounds horrifying," I muttered. "Can I opt out?"
"Nope," they said in unison.
We didn't do much the rest of the day.
After several weeks of fighting monsters, sleeping on dirt, and nearly being set on fire by various gods and cryptids, a Greek-themed divine hotel suite with magically warmed floors and room service was the closest thing to a vacation we were going to get.
We ordered food. Real food.
Jasper found some enchanted order-scroll thing in the room's nightstand, and thirty minutes later a dryad in a fetish maid outfit knocked on our door with a tray of ambrosia-glazed lamb skewers, lemon potatoes, honey-drizzled feta, and pita so soft it practically wept when you tore it.
We ate like royalty.
I sprawled across the couch, completely horizontal, gnawing on a skewer like a dog with a bone. Rhea sat cross-legged on the floor, picking at her plate but mostly watching the golden light fade through the window. Jasper was halfway into a food coma, slouched in the chair with his feet up.
For a while, nobody said anything.
And then, Rhea broke the silence.
"Y'know," she said quietly, "I had a satyr too. cool guy. Like Jasper."
I blinked. That caught my attention.
She wasn't looking at us, just staring at her plate.
"His name was Theo," she said, voice soft. "He found me back in Spokane. Middle school. I didn't even know I was a demigod. Just thought I was angry and weird and liked punching things."
"You do like punching things," I said, gently.
She gave a tiny smile. "Yeah. Well, back then, I was worse. Got kicked out of two schools for fighting. Theo was the only person who didn't treat me like a freak."
"What happened to him?" Jasper asked, already knowing, from the way she said his name.
Rhea's shoulders tensed. She took a breath, like dragging the words out hurt.
"We were just outside of Coeur d'Alene. Got jumped by a chimera on the trail. I tried to fight it, but I wasn't strong enough yet. He held it off so I could run."
She looked down at her hands.
"He didn't make it."
The room was quiet again. A different kind of quiet.
Not awkward — just heavy.
"I told him I didn't need help," she added. "That I was fine on my own. I was pissed that he kept trying to protect me, like I was breakable."
"You weren't," I said.
She shook her head. "No. But I was wrong, too."
I sat up a little, chewing on my last bit of lamb, unsure what to say.
But she kept going, and I didn't stop her.
"We'd been on the road for weeks. Sleeping in shelters. Hitching rides. I thought it was annoying, all the rules he gave me, the rituals, the offerings, the safety lectures. But... he wasn't just some goatman with a flute. He cared. And I never really said thank you."
Jasper gave a small, respectful nod. "He'd be proud you made it this far."
Rhea didn't cry. She didn't even flinch.
But there was a tightness in her jaw. That look people get when they're holding everything in with duct tape and spite.
"Anyway," she said after a moment, "that's why I'm going to Camp. For him. I told my mom I'd get there, no matter what."
Then, like she hadn't just cracked herself open in the middle of a hotel room, she reached forward, stole one of my lemon potatoes, and popped it in her mouth like nothing happened.
"Also," she added, "I hate school. If I have to go back, I might actually snap and throw someone out a window."
"Remind me never to mess with your locker," I said.
"Good plan."
The room was warm, quiet, and full of leftovers. The kind of stillness that made you realize how tired you actually were — not just in the body, but in the bones.
Rhea had just cracked herself open a bit. The room was heavy from it.
Then Jasper shifted in his chair and let out a sigh that sounded like it had been sitting in his lungs since Alaska.
"…I wasn't supposed to make it either."
I looked over. He wasn't looking at either of us, just sort of watching the empty plate on his lap like it might grow a map out of guilt.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I wasn't chosen for this gig because I was good. They sent me north because I messed up. I missed a call last year — didn't pick up on a pattern. A demigod got jumped. Didn't make it. She should've."
His voice was flat, but his hands were clenched around his knees.
"After that, nobody said it to my face, but I could see it. Around camp. The way the other satyrs looked at me. Like I wasn't trustworthy anymore."
He finally glanced up.
"So when the lead came in about a possible demigod in Alaska, they gave it to me. One name. No escort. No plan. No support. Not even a drachma to make a call."
Rhea frowned. "They just shipped you off?"
"They didn't expect me to find anything," Jasper muttered. "Probably figured I'd get eaten by a yeti or turn into a popsicle. And I was kind of… okay with that."
There was a beat of silence.
Jasper was quiet.
Then Rhea, who apparently didn't believe in letting awkward silence breathe, looked over and asked, "So how'd you two actually meet, like officially?"
Jasper groaned immediately.
I grinned.
"Oh," I said, "that's a great story."
"I hate this story," Jasper muttered, covering his face.
"No no no, you owe her now," I said. "We've all trauma-bonded. You're part of the overshare club. Tell her how I made my grand entrance into the world of monster hunting."
Rhea leaned forward, very interested.
Jasper sighed. "Fine. But I'm telling it my way."
He pointed at me. "It was after hours. At the school gym. There were rumors going around — some teachers were reporting weird behavior, janitors quitting, that kind of thing. Magical signature pinged high enough that I was sent to check it out."
He glanced at Rhea. "What I found... was Lucas."
"Naked," I added helpfully.
Rhea blinked. "Naked?"
"Naked," Jasper confirmed, with a pained look. "Well. Naked eventually."
I threw my arms out dramatically. "It was supposed to be a normal night!"
Jasper continued, voice flat. "He'd been lured in by three Empousai pretending to be cheerleaders. They'd turned on the charm. You know — the usual glamor, sultry eyes, slow talking, touching his arm, the classic we're-not-here-to-devour-you-just-kiss-you routine."
"I'm only human," I said.
"They'd already gotten his shirt off. Then his shoes. Pants went next. He was standing there like the day he was born, swaying like he was in a trance, clearly seconds away from becoming monster chow."
"I thought it was about to score big," I said defensively.
Rhea was barely holding in her laughter. "Oh my gods."
"Then," Jasper said, leaning forward, "one of them went for the throat."
"And that's when bam!" I slammed my hand on the arm of the couch. "Claws. Popped out of my knuckles like—snikt! Instant buzzkill."
Rhea's jaw dropped. "Wait—your first transformation happened during a seduction?!"
"Yup."
"They triggered it by trying to eat me!" I said. "Not kiss. That's important."
Jasper shook his head. "He blacked out for most of it. Just claws and instinct. He tore through them like a blender on legs. Blood, ash, screaming—turned the gym depot into a monster smoothie bar."
"When I stop my relflexes I was covered in glittery monster dust," I added. "Still naked. With him bashing on a locked door like I was his last lifeline."
"You were," Jasper said.
"And you stuck around?" Rhea asked.
He shrugged. "I figured if he was still alive after that, maybe the Fates were trying to tell me something."
"Like what?"
"That I was doomed to survive this quest whether I liked it or not."
Rhea laughed so hard she had to steal one of my water bottles.
"Best origin story ever," she said between gasps. "You're like... a budget Wolverine who got tricked by sexy vampires."
I smirked. "Budget? Rude. I'm at least mid-tier Marvel."
Rhea was still chuckling, the kind of low, teasing laugh that made me regret ever telling that story. She leaned back, shaking her head.
"So," she said, eyes glittering, "be real with me — have you ever actually said no to a flirty monster?"
I frowned. "Okay, first off — rude. Second — that was one time. And they were Empousai. Literally designed to seduce people and eat them. That's their whole deal!"
"Just making sure," Rhea said, holding back another grin. "Because if you start falling for monsters every couple of towns, we're gonna need a leash."
Jasper snorted from his corner. "One time, huh?"
I shot him a look. "What now?"
"I'm just saying," he said, with a smug little smirk, "you got real cozy with Despoina at that roadside party. Sat next to her all night, shared her bong, gave her a solo on your lyre—"
"That was different," I said quickly. "She wasn't trying to kill me."
Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Wait. Who's Despoina?"
Jasper looked over at her, expression suddenly more serious. "Minor goddess. Daughter of Demeter. Goddess of winter and autumn. Sister to Persephone."
Rhea blinked. "Winter and autumn?"
"Yup. The parts of the year that don't come with flowers and pastel dresses," Jasper said. "She's... less known. People forget about her. But she's powerful. Old. And not someone most demigods just hang out with casually."
They both looked at me.
I raised my hands. "She was chill! Literally! There was music! She called me 'Demi' in a weirdly nice way. I think we had a moment?"
Rhea shook her head. "You've got this thing with goddesses, don't you?"
"I don't mean to," I muttered.
Jasper muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Son of Apollo," and suddenly I wanted to throw a pillow at him.
"Okay, okay," I said, trying to steer the conversation back to not-me. "So I have weird luck with divine women. At least I didn't get eaten."
"Yet," Rhea said, grinning again.
The teasing finally simmered down, the room falling into that soft kind of quiet where no one really wants to say the next serious thing out loud.
Outside the window, the sky had shifted to a deep, velvety blue. The enchanted lights in the room had dimmed a little, casting long shadows on the walls. The city beyond the balcony twinkled peacefully — blissfully unaware that three half-mythical weirdos were holed up in a divine hotel suite talking about seduction-by-goddess.
I leaned back in my seat, the warmth from earlier still lingering in my chest.
Then, from the table where the lyre rested, a note hummed.
Soft. Gentle. Familiar.
It wasn't loud — not even enough to make Jasper flinch or Rhea jump — just one quiet string, strummed like a memory you didn't know you had.
We all turned toward it at the same time.
Rhea tilted her head. "That's not creepy at all."
"It does that sometimes," I said quietly. "Like it's got a mind of its own."
"Does it always hum when you're thinking about a certain goddess?" Jasper asked with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes. "No, it's not a divine dating alert."
He looked unconvinced.
I stood and walked over to the lyre, fingers hovering just above the strings.
It pulsed once — faint golden light blooming between the threads of divine metal. The same warmth from before, the same feeling I'd had that night when Despoina called me Demi and smiled like she could see all the forgotten corners of me.
For a second, I remembered her voice.
"Remember the little ones."
I didn't know if she meant the lesser gods, or people like us. Or maybe both.
Behind me, Rhea said, quieter now, "You think she'll come looking for you?"
I didn't answer right away.
I ran one finger across the string.
A second note joined the first — deeper, steadier.
"I think," I said slowly, "if she wanted to find me… she already could."
That made both of them quiet.
Then Jasper shifted again, clearing his throat. "So, uh. We going to bed? Or is the lyre gonna keep serenading us?"
"I'll talk to it," I said, patting the wood like it was a sleeping dog.
Rhea watched me for another moment, eyes searching, before finally pushing off the couch and stretching. "Alright. Wake me if it starts glowing and summoning woodland nymphs again."
"No promises," I said.
We each drifted toward our respective sleeping spots. The bed. The couch. A huge nest of pillows Jasper had claimed like a nesting bird.
But the lyre?
It stayed quiet now.
Just two faint notes hanging in the air like something waiting to finish its song.
CP Bank: 400cp
Perks earned this chapter: none
Milestones reached this chapter: Meet your dad: you're a special little demi aren't you? 400cp