Chapter 1 – The Day I Learned I Was Warborn
The night air felt heavy.
Ethan Wareham sat on the cracked wooden steps of his mother's porch, staring at the empty street. The neighborhood lights flickered weakly, and the wind carried the smell of rain and dust.
Something was wrong.
His mother had called him inside earlier, her voice quieter than usual.
"Ethan," she said carefully, studying his face as if measuring how much truth he could handle. "You're old enough now to know what you are."
He leaned against the doorway. "That doesn't sound good."
"There's a place," she continued. "A sanctuary for people like you. Demigods. A camp where you'll finally belong."
Belong.
Ethan almost laughed.
Being the strongest kid in every room never made people welcome you. It made them nervous. Fights happened. Teachers whispered. Friends slowly disappeared.
Before he could answer, the screen door slammed open.
"Wareham!"
Eden Lance strolled in like he owned the world.
Eden had the kind of confidence Ethan never understood—calm eyes, relaxed shoulders, a smile that made strangers trust him instantly.
Son of Poseidon.
Even the air around him felt steady.
"We're heading there," Eden said, throwing an arm over Ethan's shoulder. "Come on. I'll handle the talking."
---
They walked through the city streets together.
Eden chatted with strangers easily, asking directions with a casual smile. People answered without hesitation.
Ethan stayed quiet beside him, scanning the sidewalks.
Something felt off.
His muscles were tense. His instincts screamed.
Then the shadows moved.
Figures slipped between the streetlights—fast, silent.
Hunters.
One lunged.
Ethan reacted without thinking.
His fist slammed into the pavement.
CRACK.
The concrete buckled beneath them as the ground warped under the force of the blow.
But the hunter was faster than expected.
He stepped precisely where the pavement hadn't collapsed.
A trap.
Rough hands grabbed Ethan from behind.
Eden struggled, but more hunters appeared from the darkness.
There were too many.
One hunter chuckled as they restrained Ethan.
"I bet Maron will be proud."
The others nodded.
Darkness swallowed the street.
---
Ethan woke inside a metal cage.
The air smelled like rust and damp stone.
Across the cell sat two other prisoners.
A girl with sharp eyes and short dark hair studied him carefully.
"Name?" she asked.
"Ethan."
"Clarita Milan," she replied. "Daughter of Athena."
She pointed to the boy beside her.
"Enlight Kailey. Son of Apollo."
Enlight gave a tired wave.
"Nice to meet you… under terrible circumstances."
Eden leaned against the bars nearby.
"Still alive," he said casually. "That's a good sign."
Clarita crouched close to the ground, analyzing the camp outside the cage.
"Listen carefully," she whispered.
"We split up. Cause confusion. Regroup near the river."
Ethan cracked his knuckles.
Patience was not his strength.
---
They moved when the guards changed.
Clarita was the first to act.
She darted forward like lightning, leaping onto a hunter's shoulders and slashing his neck—not deep enough to kill, but enough to drop him instantly.
Another hunter stumbled.
Another fell.
Her movements were precise.
Controlled.
Athena's strategy in motion.
Nearby, Eden dropped to one knee beside a puddle.
He pressed his palm against the water.
"Father," he murmured urgently. "I need your help."
The puddle trembled.
Water rose slowly into the air, forming a thin, shimmering blade.
A sword of liquid.
"It won't last long," Eden warned. "So move!"
The hunters hesitated when they saw the glowing weapon.
That moment was enough.
Clarita guided them through the chaos like a battlefield commander.
Then someone shouted.
"Losing control already, Wareham?"
Ethan froze.
The voice came from behind them.
"You just gave us your location."
His blood exploded with anger.
He charged.
Punches flew wildly.
Too reckless.
Too loud.
Clarita reacted instantly.
She jumped onto Ethan's back, launching herself toward a hunter. Her blade flashed across his throat—again, perfectly measured.
Another hunter collapsed.
Another staggered.
She never killed.
Only disabled.
Only enough to escape.
Finally, they broke through the forest line and collapsed into the tall grass near the riverbank.
Everyone breathed hard.
Ethan stared at the sunrise creeping over the horizon.
"So…" he said between breaths.
"What's this school like?"
Clarita smirked.
"Not a school."
"More like a shelter. Some call it Half-Born Camp."
She stood, brushing dirt from her hands.
"No teachers. Only instructors."
Eden shrugged beside Ethan.
"And we've still got a long way before we get there."
"Oh," Ethan said.
"Cool."
But his attention had already drifted to a deer quietly drinking from the river.
Clarita frowned.
Eden sighed.
"Sorry," he said.
"He's got ADHD."
The sun rose slowly across the horizon.
For the first time in his life—
Ethan Wareham wasn't just the strongest kid in the neighborhood.
He was something else.
Something ancient.
Something dangerous.
He just didn't know it yet.
He was Warborn.