PLAY GOD ━━ jason grace¹

xxiii. of monsters and men

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy like stone. Annais found herself catching Jason's eye before turning away, gaze landing on Chiron as he lingered by the door nervously. "Who built this place?" she heard Jake question before Chiron tensed. "And why?"

In the end, it wasn't the centaur that answered, but Leo. "It's a wartime command centre," he told them, pointing up to the map that was spread out across the wall with several pins placed in particular spots marked for traps, trenches and ambush sites. It made sense, but left Annais feeling wary. "The camp was attacked once, wasn't it?"

"In the Titan War?"

Nyssa shook her head, hands moving with faint tremors as she slowly closed the book of diagrams. "No. Besides, that map looks really old." She narrowed her eyes, fingers ghosting over the wilted paper. "Look... the date... does that say 1864?"

"What?" Annais frowned, edging forward for a closer look. Much to her surprise, Nyssa was right. "Oh."

Well, that certainly changed things.

Wordlessly, everyone turned to Chiron, demanding answers in their stares. The centaur sighed, breaking the silence, "This camp has been attacked many times. That map is from the last Civil War..."

"I'm sorry, when?" Ezra echoed what everyone was thinking. Chiron seemed to tense just at the sound of her voice, but Ezra pushed forward. "You mean the American Civil War? Are you serious?"

"Yes and no," Chiron hummed, prompting Annais to frown in confusion. "The two conflicts, mortal and demigod, mirrored each other, as they usually do in Western History. Look at any Civil War or revolution from the fall of Rome onward, and it marks a time when demigods also fought one another. But that Civil War was particularly horrible. For American mortals, it is still their bloodiest conflict of all time, worse than their casualties in the two World Wars. For demigods, it was equally devastating. Even back then, this valley was Camp Half-Blood. There was a horrible battle in these woods lasting for days, with terrible losses on both sides."

"Both sides," Leo repeated, sharing a sharp stare with Jason at his side. "You mean the camp split apart?"

"No," Jason shook his head. A sudden brush of warmth on Annais' hand had her looking down. Jason's fingers waited. At first, Annais turned away, but soon reached back when no one was watching to intertwine them together, skin against skin, blood against bone.

"There's two camps. Isn't there?" she said, though her question was more of a statement. "We were on one side..."

"And the other?" Leo trailed off, unsure if he wanted an answer.

Once again, Chiron was forced into the spotlight. "The answer is dangerous," he warned, but they waited anyway. "It is something I swore upon the River Styx never to speak of."

Sometimes, rules were made to be broken. This was one of those times.

"After the American Civil War, the Gods were so horrified by the toll it took on their children, that they swore it would never happen again. The two groups were separated. The Gods bent all their will, wove the Mist as tightly as they could, to make sure the enemies never remembered each other, never met on their quests, so that bloodshed could be avoided. This map is from the final dark days of 1864, the last time the two groups fought. We've had several close calls since then. The 1960s were particularly dicey. But we've managed to avoid another Civil War... at least so far."

Annais found that hard to believe, that the Gods had their best interests at heart for once. The Gods had always looked down on mortals, even the ones they claimed to love then left once siring children with them. No. Annais knew that wasn't why the Greeks and the Romans had been kept apart for so long.