The one who's fallen

Cyclops

Before their mothers sent them away, Anastasia and Azrael made a pact with them: they asked their divine parents not to claim them, fearing not just the monsters but also the gods themselves. Fortunately, their mothers understood their concerns and took no offense. It took some persuasion and coaxing from Anastasia to convince Mother Nyx fully, but she had to make a promise to Nyx's that she'll visit when and as much as she could in the summer but Nyx was still reluctant to let her daughter go. So reluctant she almost squeezed her to death with a hug.

Anastasia stood amidst the towering trees of the forest, her focus honed on the practice dummy before her. Her eyes bounce all over the dummying, taking in its completion. The small tears that let little sand fall from its grasp. With each strike, she felt the weight of her hidden dagger in her belt loop ready to be used, the rhythm of her movements fluid and precise. She was preparing for the upcoming game of 'capture the flag,' determined to participate without relying on her hidden abilities, which could easily tip the scales in her favor. But ‘it wouldn't be fair’ Chiron said, and she understood.

The twins had decided to keep their powers hidden, using them sparingly in practice sessions to avoid drawing unwanted attention. They had made a deal to keep their powers concealed from the prying eyes of their fellow campers, reserving their parents gifts for practice sessions deep within the forest, away from the scrutiny of their peers. Deep in the forest, between two towering trees, they marked their secret training spot where they could sharpen their abilities away from prying eyes.

They had been doing this for the past three weeks since the visit to the Underworld, they had been trying to grasp at their skills in secret away from Chiron and Mr.D, using the cover of the dense foliage and the protection of the ancient trees to refine their abilities. Occasionally, their mothers, Nyx and Hades, would visit to offer guidance, but such encounters were rare, as they were wary of drawing unwanted attention from the other gods, especially one that is so close.

In the quiet of the forest, the only sounds were the soft grunts of exertion and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Anastasia's dagger sliced through the air with precision, and the under belly of the dummy spilled out sand bearing the brunt of her strikes. With a practiced twist of her ring, her hidden sword was unleashed, its weight familiar in her hand as she delivered a final blow to the dummy's skull.

That doesn't denter her movements as she keeps on striking the dummy again and again, watching its decapitated head hold on by a thread echoed through the quiet forest as she slashed at the dummy, her movements fluid and precise. She was a ballerina performing in a theater. With each strike, she felt a connection to the trees standing tall around her, their strength mirroring her own. The storm from the previous night had left the ground muddy, but Anastasia remained focused, her determination unwavering. She plants her feet firmly on the ground, the mud splashing over her converse and jeans.

As she paused to catch her breath, the tranquility of the forest was shattered by the sound of a snapped branch, signaling an intruder in their secluded sanctuary. Anastasia tensed, her senses on high alert as she turned to face the unexpected visitor, her grip tightening on her weapon. She hears another snap grabbing the dagger that laid waste on the ground under the dummy. Anastasia launches the dagger in the direction of the noise.

The snapping of wood bounces off these hollow woods. She sucks in a deep breath, only letting go when she hears a scared gasp, but that doesn't hinder her grip on her sword in hand waiting, listening for anything. “Whoa there, cowgirl! It's just me.” Azrael pokes his head out with a silly grin, hiding behind one of the twin trees. Anxiety laced his eyes as he gave her an anxious smile with his hands up in surrender. Her shoulders fall, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Why are you here?” she jerks the dagger out of the bark, sending a spiller of wood flying, expecting it from any damages. She sighs in relief when she sees no cracks or chips on the dagget edge.