I really hate nightmares. And I've had quite a few of them. They're basically the only things I see when I'm asleep. But usually, they're pretty manageable. You know the normal ones like being naked in school, falling off a building, being chased in the dark by something you can't quite see. I can handle those. But it's the ones that aren't fictional that are the hardest for me. When your mind dredges up an unwelcome memory and plays it back to you in excruciating detail. Forcing you to replay every horrible second every terrifying moment just to make sure it's as excruciating as when it actually happened to you. But that's not even the worst part. Because unlike a normal nightmare when you wake up it forces you to remember it. Sticks and clings to you like a parasite. A constant reminder of what you did. So yeah, I really hate nightmares.
Slowly I felt my eyes open as feeling returned to my body. Beginning to look around as I arose from my sleep. I was lying down on a wooden bench with a pillow placed under my head and a blanket gently placed over me. I glanced around and saw that I was on some sort of porch overlooking a green meadow with grassy hills in the distance. The area looked so peaceful so calm. Like you could spend hours lying on the grass without a care in the world. I sighed as I tried to push myself up a bit. Moving the blanket off of me as I got into a sitting position on the bench. Glancing up as I heard someone speak.
"It wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."
I looked over to the other side of the porch. Where I saw one of the kids from the bull fight standing in front of a table. He was averagely tall and a bit on the scrawny side. As well he was wearing a bright orange t-shirt with the words CAMP HALF-BLOOD written on the front. So, I had made it after all.
"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least . . . I was."
I looked past him as he finished speaking. And I quickly saw the bull rider from earlier sitting in a deck chair. I hadn't gotten a good look at him before, but I could clearly see him now. From where he sat it was hard to tell but he seemed to be slightly taller than the other kid. With messy jet-black hair and an almost Mediterranean complexion. But out of everything what struck me the most was his stark green sea foam eyes. Like the tidal waves of an ocean. He was about to reply to the other kid, when he noticed me. Our eyes locking for a moment before I turned my head down. I always hated eye contact it always made me feel weird and uncomfortable. But still I tried to form a response. Holding up my hand timidly waving as the two of them looked at me.
"Uh hi. I'm Y/n."
Percy POV
As I was about to respond to Grover when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Turning my gaze as I saw the boy from earlier sitting on a bench on the other side of the porch. Somehow, I had failed to see him lying there on the bench. He had a blanket pushed to the side as he sat on the edge of the seat. And he looked considerably better than when I saw him last. The wounds from earlier completely gone though his clothes still looked pretty banged up. He quickly saw me looking at him and we locked eyes for a moment. Before he quickly turned away awkwardly. Looking a bit uncomfortable as he spoke.
"Uh hi. I'm Y/n."
Hearing his slight discomfort, I responded quickly to reassure him.
"Percy" I said in reply.
Grover turned to him as well speaking up as I finished.
"Oh, good you're awake. Mr. D and Chiron wanted to speak with you to. Speaking of which we probably shouldn't keep them waiting."
I looked back up at Grover as he took a step off the porch.
"Come on."
Me and Y/n both looked at each other before getting up out of our seat. The both of us wobbling a bit as we tried to stand. But we managed and followed Grover around the side of the barn. Me and Y/n walking side by side as we moved along. Myself gripping the bull horn tightly in my hand as Y/n stared off absent mindedly at the rolling hills and strawberry fields. He still looked a bit uncomfortable, so I tried to engage him. My mother's death was still fresh in my mind, so I tried to distract myself with some conversation. Nudging him on the shoulder lightly as I spoke.
"By the way. Thanks for the assist. Would've been turned into a Jackson pancake without the help."
He seemed a bit taken aback by the compliment. But it still got him to reply.
"Oh really? Um your welcome. That was some good bull riding. At least from what I saw before you know getting thrown across the pavement."
I smiled back.
"Yeah, bet I looked like a true cowboy up there. Now all I need is a lasso and a hat."
He seemed to laugh a bit at that, and I smiled at my success as he eased up a bit. He looked like he was about to speak again when we turned the corner of the house. And my breath caught in my throat.
We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with building that looked like ancient Greek architecture an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena except that they all looked new, their marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooden trail, and unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.
Down at the porches the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl from earlier who'd spoon-fed me popcorn-flavored pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them.
The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big water eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those painting of a baby angels what do call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties except I got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even my stepfather.
"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, That's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron. . . ."
He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.
First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.
"Mr. Brunner!" I cried.
The Latin teacher turning towards us as I spoke. Y/n speedily zipping up his gray hoodie as he realized that there was quite a bit of skin showing through the rips in his shirt. I quickly turned back towards Mr. Brunner. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple-choice answers B.
"Ah, good Percy. Oh, and you've brought the other splendid young man. That makes five for pinochle" He offered me and Y/n a seat on either side of Mr. D. He glanced towards me and Y/n with blood-shot eyes. Heaving a sigh as he began to speak. Though I did notice his eyes linger curiously on Y/n for a little longer than needed.
"Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."
"Uh thanks." I scooted a little farther away from him because, if there was one thing, I had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr.
"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.
She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us.
"This young lady nursed you two back to health, Annabeth this is Percy. And uh. . ."
He trailed off a bit as he turned towards Y/n. Him looking a bit nervous as he responded quickly.
"Oh um. Y/n L/n sir."
"A fine name indeed. Annabeth Y/n. Now my dear why don't you go check on Percy and Y/n's bunk? We'll be putting them 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 California 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 glanced at the minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, "You killed a minotaur!" or "Wow you're so awesome" or something like that.
Instead, she said, "You drool when you sleep. And he snores."
Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her. "So" I said, anxious to change the subject. And I could tell Y/n was just as ready to. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"
"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex-Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."
"Okay."
I was about to speak when surprisingly Y/n spoke before I could.
"Wait your Chiron? Like the Chiron?"
My teacher looked back at him smiling warmly.
"The one and only."
Mr. D seemed to roll his eyes as Y/n spoke.
"Wow my dad made me read so many stories about the heroes you trained. Wait. What was it like? I'm sure it was pretty cool. And where are your legs? Um no offense Mr. Chiron. Just a little curious."
"All in due time young Y/n. And no offense taken. But there are a few matters I would like to attend to first."
Chiron-Brunner turned back towards me as he spoke. Myself deciding to ignore whatever Y/n just said or else my brain would overload with weirdness.
"I must say Percy. I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."
"House call?"
"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to . . . .ah, take a leave of absence."
I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It had seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared, and Mr. Brunner had taken the class.
"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" I asked.
Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."
Chiron then turned toward Y/n as he continued.
"And it seems Y/n passed as well."
He looked up from the jacket zipper he was absent mindedly fiddling with. Speaking quickly as his leg bounced up in down nervously.
"Oh, um yes sir. I got here from California."
"Across the whole country. Quite impressive. Were you by yourself?
Y/n seemed to trip over his words as he tried to respond.
"Um yes. I was. I mean I did it on my own."
Chiron merely nodded though he didn't seem convinced. I myself wanted to ask him a few questions but Mr. D spoke up suddenly.
"Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"
"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.
"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.
"I'm afraid not," I said.
"I'm afraid not, sir," he said.
"Sir," I repeated I was liking the camp director less and less.
He looked over at Y/n raising an eyebrow as he spoke.
"How about you?"
"Uh no sir. I don't know how to play."
He seemed to sigh before continuing.
"Well," he told us, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules."
Y/n seemed to squirm in embarrassment as I glared at him. My opinion of him quickly tanking.
"I'm sure the boys can learn," Chiron said.
"Please," I said. "what is this place? What am I doing here? What are we doing here? Mr. Brun-Chiron-why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"
Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question."
The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile. While Y/n's leg still bouncing up and down nervously beneath the table. Chiron smiled at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.
"Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?"
"She said . . ." I remembered her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told me that she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."
Y/n seemed to look at me sympathetically from across the table. A look of understanding passed over him. It was comforting in a way unsurprisingly Mr. D did not share such feelings.
"Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"
"What?" I asked.
He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.
"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said, "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."
"Orientation film?" I asked.
"No," Chiron decided.
Suddenly Y/n spoke up after Chiron.
"Um I could go watch the film. I'm sure it would be easier with just Percy. I already know the basics anyways."
"No, I think not young Y/n. As I said before I still have a few things question I would like you to answer."
Y/n seemed to squirm a bit more in his seat but didn't push it any farther as he turned back towards me.
"Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"-he pointed to the horn in the shoe box-"that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods-the forces you call the Greek gods-are very much alive."
I stared at the others around the table.
I waited for you somebody to yell. "No!" But all I got was Mr. D going, "Oh a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points.
"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"
"Eh? Oh, all right."
Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully. Seeing that I wasn't going to get anything out of those two I looked back at Y/n trying to see if he was having a similiar reaction to me. But despite his general nervousness he seemed hardly fazed. Merely looking at Grover oddly as he chowed down on the soda can.
"Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."
"Well, now," Chiron said. "God capital G, God. That's a diffirent matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."
"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about-"
"Ah, gods, plural, as in great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."
"Smaller?"
"Yes quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class."
"Zeus," I said. "Hera. Apollo You mean them."
And there it was again-distant thunder on a cloudless day.
"Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around. if I were you."
"But they're stories," I said. "They're-myths, to explain lightning and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."
"Science!" Mr. D scoffed "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"-I flinched when he said my real name, which I never told anybody-"what will peopl think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's perspective. They think they've come soo far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."
I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if . . . he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifuly minding his cards and Y/n sank farther into his chair like he wanted to dissapear.
"Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means imomortal. Can you imagine for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing just as you are, for all time?"
I was about to answer, off the top of my head, that it sounded like a pretty good deal, but the tone of Chiron's voice made me hesitate.
"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," I said.
"Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson. that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"
My heart pounded. He was trying to make me angry. I looked back at Y/n who was giving me an encouraging look despite his nervousness. And I decided I wouldn't let him do that to me. I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."
"Oh you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you."
Grover said. "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."
"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card.
"Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!"
He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.
My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.
"Mr. D," He warned, "your restrictions."
Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.
"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"
More thunder.
Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He signed unhappyily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.
Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."
"A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.
"Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time-well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away-the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down' Ha! Absolutely unfair.
Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.
"And . . ." I stammered. "your father is . . ."
"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."
Suddenly Y/n spoke up quite a bit louder than I had heard him previously.
"I knew it! You're Dionysus!"
He looked around in embarrassment as he finished.
"Uh sorry." He murmured.
Settling back into his chair as he suddenly became very interested in the wood surface of the table. And I slowly drew my eyes away from him as I focused back on Mr. D seeing him n a whole new light.
"You're the god of wine."
Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say. these days, Grover? What do the children say, 'Well-duh?"
"Y-yes, Mr. D."
"Then well duh! Percy jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhapts?"
"You're a god."
"Yes child."
"A god. You"
He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking ubelievers to death, drunked warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straight jacket in a padded-room for the rest of my life.
"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.
"No. No, sir."
The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. And slowly Chiron cleared his throat to change the subject.
"Yes, well anyways. To those questions I wanted to ask you Y/n."
I saw Y/n look back at him a bit nervously. Nodding for him to continue as his leg kept on bouncing up and down nervously.
"I'm sure I'll have time to ask all of them properly in the days to come. But right now, I would like to address the most pressing one."
Grover and I looked between Chiron and Y/n curiously. All the while Mr. D yawned absent mindedly as he flipped through his hand. I turned back towards Chiron as I saw him reach down to something beside his wheelchair. Pulling up a small knapsack that he lied on the table. Reaching into it carefully as he gripped something inside. Slowly pulling out the handle of a dirk the blade covered in a sheath. I glanced back up at Y/n who's eyes darted from the covered blade to his waist in confusion. Chiron was about to speak as he cut him off.
"Hey! That's mine! I need that back right now!"
I felt surprised to hear him speak in such a demanding tone though he did seem to reel back a bit after his sentence. Realizing that he had spoken out of place.
"I'd be careful boy. You're in no place to make demands." Mr. D replied threateningly.
"Yes Y/n. Unfortunately, I had to confiscate this from you. It's too dangerous for someone as young as you to be carrying around at camp."
Chiron's voice became deathly serious as he looked up at Y/n.
"I need to know where you got it."
Y/n was quick to respond a hint of anger edging into his voice as he spoke. But he remained polite and calm.
"I got it from a friend. I needed protection, and she gave it to me. Alright happy? Now give it back."
Chiron merely nodded as he began to reply. Ignoring Y/n's request at the end of his sentence.
"Did this friend tell you how dangerous. How harmful this really is?" He said motioning to the weapon on the table.
Y/n seemed to tense in his chair. Anger rising up a bit more as he spoke.
"I know full well what harm it can do! Without it I would have never made it here! Now give it back please."
I looked back down at the weapon lying on the table. From what I could see it looked pretty normal. A deep black handle covered by a leather sheath. I couldn't see why it would be so dangerous. I mean my mom had always told me never to play with swords, but this was obviously something more serious than that. I watched closely as Chiron slipped his hand over the sheath. Holding it a safe distance away from him as he responded.
"Unfortunately, I cannot allow that Y/n. It will remain in the big house for the time being. Until I can find a safe way to dispose of it. You'll have to make do without it."
Y/n seemed to stew in his chair. Beginning to open his mouth in retaliation. But I quickly spoke up before he could reply. Saving him from getting himself into deeper trouble.
"Alright I am completely confused. And I don't think any of you are about to explain this to me. So, I'll just ask."
I gestured to the sheathed dirk in Chiron's hands.
"What is that. And what's the big deal?"
Chiron seemed to sigh slowly as he flipped the knife around in his hands.
"A blade made of one of the most dangerous materials found in the mortal world."
I watched cautiously and curiously as Chiron gripped the leather sheath. Sliding it off to reveal the blade beneath. And it took me a moment for my eyes to fully register what I was seeing. The blade was black. Like completely black. Darker than the handle it extended from. Darker than any midnight sky. Any deep cavern or deep ocean trench. As black as nightmares.
"A blade of stygian iron. Mined and forged in the depths of the underworld. Cooled in the waters of the Styx. Wielded by beings of darkness like the god of the death himself."
I felt a shiver run up my spine as I looked at the blade in Chiron's hands.
"It destroyes anything it comes in contact with. And unlike celestial bronze or imperial gold it can harm monsters, mortals, demi-gods, and even immortals."
Mr. D seemed to scoff at that last comment. Chiron ignoring him as he continued his explanation.
"It drains the life of its opponents. Allowing its wielder to draw from their strength. Sapping their life force until they are no more. And as stated before can only be wielded by the most powerful of immortal beings and their offspring."
Grover continued to munch on his can nervously. While my eyes darted between Y/n and the demon blade in front of me.
"You had that thing in your back pocket?!"
I spoke out as Y/n turned towards me almost timidly.
"Yeah, I guess I did."
I was about to speak again to ask more questions, but Chiron cut me off quickly. Speaking firmly as he slid the sheath back over the blade.
"And it will be staying far away from any prying campers. And I will make sure of it."
He put the weapon back into the knapsack. Gripping the bag tightly as he secured it over his shoulder. I looked back at Y/n watching as he began to open his mouth but not before Mr. D yawned in boredom. Looking up as he spoke in a mellowed out tone.
"I believe I win."
I watched as Chiron finished securing the bag. Turning back towards Mr. D as he gripped the cards in his hands.
"Now hold on a moment Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said "The game goes to me."
I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher, He got up and Grover rose, too.
"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than perfect performance on this assignment."
Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."
Mr. D glanced between me and Y/n. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. The same for you Y/n L/n. And mind your manners."
He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.
"Will Grover be, okay?" I asked Chiron.
Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. I mean more than troubled then from just having held a death knife in his hands.
"Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been . . . ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."
"Mount Olympus? Like the real Mount Olympus?" Y/n asked quickly. Mine and his interests clearly rising as Chiron turned towards him to reply.
"Weill now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods. The convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Y/n, just as the gods do."
"So, the Greek gods are here? Like . . . . in America? I asked.
"Well certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West."
"The what?" Me and Y/n both said simultaneously.
"Come now both of you. What you call 'Western civilization'. Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civiilzation were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know-or as I hope you know, since you passed my course-the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh diffirent names perhaps same forces, the same gods."
"And then they died."
"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while, Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centureies in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to try and find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not-and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either-America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so, Olympus is here. And we are here."
It was all too much. especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we as if I were a part of some club. I looked over at Y/n for some sort of response. But he seemed to be taking this a lot better than me. Handheld to his chin as he nodded along.
"Who are you Chiron? Who . . . am I? Who are we?" I said the last part gesturing to myself and then Y/n across from me.
Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his chair but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down. Y/n looked over at him excitedly.
"Who are you? he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you two to your bunks. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."
He looked back at me and then back to Y/n.
"You wanted to know where my legs were right?"
And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs. but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneeled, with a huge, polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and there the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.
"So cool." I heard Y/n say as I stared.
Gazing intently at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.
"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now come on you two. Let's meet the other campers."