Ares landed beside me with a solid thud, boots cracking against the path and kicking up a puff of dust. A nearby camper yelped. Someone dropped their goblet. Another muttered something that definitely included the word "Lucas."
I shifted my stance, getting used to the new weight in my limbs. Taller. Sharper. My body moved like it had finally decided to be mine—like the engine under the hood finally matched the driver.
"Alright, kid," Ares said, cracking his neck with a satisfying pop. "You're back."
He gave me a quick once-over and grinned.
"Lookin' jacked, by the way. Olympus light treating you good?"
I smirked. "You could say that."
"Hell yeah," he said, then clapped me on the back hard enough to realign my skeleton. "Now go strut that golden-ass up to the Big House before Chiron starts sending out search parties."
He turned with a whistle, already summoning his warbike from the wind like it owed him backpay. "I'm off to see if Persephone's garden nymphs still hate me."
And just like that, he vanished, but the smell of gunpowder, leather and sweat stayed in the air.
I stood there for a moment longer, letting it sink in.
Campers were watching. Not all of them recognized me right away.
"He's back," someone whispered.
I adjusted my shirt. Rolled my shoulders.
Then I walked toward the Big House.
Chiron looked up from a stack of paperwork as I stepped into the Big House. His eyes scanned me like he was taking inventory—broader shoulders, deeper shadows under the eyes.
"You've changed," he said, setting his pen down.
"Caught a bit of sun," I replied, sliding into the chair across from him.
Chiron tilted his head. "Olympus sun?"
I shrugged. "Hits different."
He nodded slowly. "So. What did they give you?"
I exhaled and leaned forward, elbows on the desk.
"Two quests," I said. "First one's from Hades. He wants two demigods extracted from the Vegas area. His kids."
That earned his full attention.
"Two children of Hades?" he repeated.
"Hades wants them out of dodge. Brought to Camp. Alive. Preferably untraumatized."
Chiron's face pinched slightly. "Which, in our experience, means they're already traumatized."
I didn't argue. "Yeah."
"And the second quest?"
I hesitated—on purpose.
Then, carefully: "That one came from the Olympian Council."
Chiron sat up straighter, frowning. "The full council?"
"Zeus signed off on it."
"What's it involve?"
I met his gaze. "Let's just say… I've been told not to explain unless absolutely necessary."
He went still.
"And the rescue mission? It's connected?"
"Deeply," I said. "Which means I can't say what they need rescuing from. Only that we need to get everyone remotely useful or sympathetic out of Vegas now."
Chiron leaned back, hands steepled. His eyes narrowed.
After a long pause, Chiron asked, "You planning to go alone?"
"Probably not," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Rhea's top of my list."
That raised a brow. "Rhea?"
"She's smart. Calm under pressure. Already suspects something's coming. Better to point her at it than leave her guessing."
He nodded. "And Sif?"
"Of course," I said. "Not leaving her behind. But I might bring a third—someone to help anchor her if things get… weird."
Chiron gave me a look. "Weird."
"You know the kind."
He didn't argue.
"Any candidates?"
"Not yet," I admitted. "Maybe someone from the cabins. Maybe a satyr. Just someone who knows their mythology to be our guide."
I turned toward the door.
"Oh—and if anyone asks?"
Chiron raised an eyebrow.
"I'm going on a rescue mission. Just a quick trip west. Nice and simple."
"And the second quest?"
I smiled, just a little.
"What second quest?"
CP Bank:0cp
Perks earned this chapter: 100cp Puissance (Marvel Primal) [Benevolence] You once consumed a mysterious heart-shaped herb and ever since have been stronger and swifter than other men.
Milestones: None.411Magus exploratorMay 13, 2025View discussionThreadmarks Chapter 32- Let's go Gambling! WooooW.View contentMagus exploratorMay 16, 2025#2,233Night fell soft over Camp Half-Blood. The stars were out, and the central firepit burned low and steady, its orange glow dancing across the faces of gathered campers. The amphitheater was packed. Cabins clustered together on their benches, talking in low voices—some already half-asleep, others wide-eyed, sensing something was coming. Even the Huntresses of Artemis, usually gone before nightfall, lingered at the edge of the gathering. They stood apart, silver hoods up, arms crossed.
Chiron stood at the front, scroll in hand. He waited until the murmurs settled, then cleared his throat.
"Campers," he began, voice carrying easily across the flickering silence. "Before we close the day, I have a few announcements."
There was the usual rustle—backs straightening, a few muttered jokes dying mid-breath.
"The kitchen is requesting that all Apollo cabin members stop experimenting with divine herbs in the tea urn. It is not a cauldron. And it is not a safe method for medicine making."
A few scattered laughs. One guilty cough.
Chiron didn't smile.
"The eastern boundary stones have been shifted slightly to account for dryad migration. If you feel vines trying to untie your sandals in the woods, walk away and don't flirt back."
That earned more laughter. Someone elbowed a satyr.
But then Chiron lowered the scroll, and the air shifted.
"I also have something more serious to discuss."
That silenced what was left of the whispers. Even the fire quieted, its crackle suddenly. Chiron looked over the crowd. His voice remained even, but the warmth had thinned.
"A quest has been issued," Chiron continued. "In fact—two."
He turned, slow and deliberate. "Lucas."
I heard my name like a thread pulled taut.
"Would you step forward?"
I stepped into the firelight, hands in my pockets, and took a deep breath. Then I flashed a grin.
"Hey there, people! Who's ready for adventure?" I said, pitching my voice as corny as I could manage—full Saturday morning cartoon energy.
There was a beat of confused silence. Then laughter. A few groans.
Good. Got their attention.
"I got called to Olympus last night," I continued, more grounded now. "Things... devolved a bit."
That earned a few chuckles.
"And I've been issued two quests. From the gods."
That stopped the laughter cold. A few oohs and ahhs rippled through the amphitheater, followed by murmurs of surprise. Even the Huntresses straightened.
I nodded.
"I won't lie to you—this one's probably going to be rough. Like, really rough. Maybe worse than anything we've faced so far."
The fire cracked behind me.
"But someone's gotta do it. And that someone's us. Demigods."
A few heads nodded in the front row. Some kids looked nervous. Others… interested.
I paused, let the noise build for a moment, let it crest. Then held up a hand.
"This quest also probably requires more brainpower than I've got in my noggin," I said, knocking lightly on my temple. "So I'm assembling a team. Two others. And my dog."
I glanced across the crowd, letting my voice drop just slightly.
"Any takers?"
The fire popped once, and I could feel the eyes on me—campers thinking, calculating, waiting to see who'd flinch first.
Then Rhea stood, arms folded over her chest, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear:
"You probably need someone to keep an eye on you."
I raised an eyebrow.
She met my look evenly. "Especially with Jasper gone."
I didn't say anything. Just nodded.
Rhea stepped forward and took her place beside me, calm and steady as always. I felt the ground firm up a little under my feet.
Then another figure moved—soft, sure-footed. One of the Huntresses stepped out from the shadows. She lowered her hood as she entered the firelight, black hair catching the flame, face young but eyes far older.
"I'll join him," she said simply.
Even the Huntresses turned to look at her in surprise. She ignored them.
Chiron tilted his head slightly but didn't interrupt.
I looked at her. "Name?"
"Elia."
I nodded. "Welcome to the Suicide squad."
I turned back to the crowd.
"This is the team. Rhea. Elia. Me. Sif."
Right on cue, Sif let out a low, proud howl from the shadows. A few campers flinched. One kid from the Hermes cabin nearly fell off the bench.
I let a small grin tug at the corner of my mouth.
"We leave at dawn," I said.
Three Hephaestus kids were poking around the hull—two with notebooks, one with a wrench half the size of his torso. One of them was actively trying to unscrew the landing struts.
"No, no, nope," I said as I jogged up, slapping a hand down over the nearest hatch control. "Off," I repeated, pointing. "Now."
The kid grumbled, but the wrench went down. The other two gave the ship a few more longing glances and finally backed off.
"Can we at least scan it?"
"No."
"Photograph it?"
"No."
"Sketch—?"
"No."
I turned and gave the Sparrow a quick once-over. No damage, no stolen copper wiring.
Elia arrived next, silent as a breeze, her silver cloak tucked back, twin knives strapped tight across her back. Sif padded in last, tail high, eyes already scanning the woods like she expected trouble to burst out of the pines any minute.
I looked at my team. The three of them. My bike behind me. The cold air biting my lungs.
"All aboard," I said, slapping the hull twice.
I swung one leg over the saddle and dropped my backpack next to the front stabilizer strut. Sif lumbered in behind me.
And I do mean lumbered.
She'd grown again. Not by much, but enough. Her paws left impressions in the earth, her shoulders nearly at my ribcage now. Her fur probably large enough to count as heavy armor.
She padded up to the pack and, without a sound, shoved her snout into the opening.
The bag stretched.
The opening expanded to match her size, just wide enough to take in her massive frame as she stepped forward—one paw, then another, then her chest, her tail swishing once before disappearing like smoke. The bag snapped closed behind her with a soft fwump.
I clipped it back to the side of the saddle like this was normal.
Behind me, Elia blinked. "What—did she just—?"
"She does that," I said.
Elia didn't move. "You just put a giant wolf in a sack."
"Magic sack," Rhea added, striding up with a roll of her shoulders. "It's fine."
"'Fine' is not the word I'd use," Elia muttered, but she didn't argue as she climbed into the sidecar. Rhea followed, adjusting the straps across her chest as she got comfortable. Both of them fit—just barely—knees not touching, elbows braced.
I pulled down my goggles and flicked the ignition button.
The Sparrow gave a low, hungry whirrrr, engine plates glowing faintly under my legs.
"We should be there by eleven," I said, glancing back at them. "Two pm at the latest. We'll talk details once we've cleared the wards and we're out of earshot."
"Clear," Rhea said.
Elia just nodded.
I leaned forward, one hand on the throttle.
"Hold on," I said, grinning. "She kicks harder than she looks."
And we shot into the sky like a god had just slapped us on the back.
The Sparrow tore across the sky just above the treetops, the forest rushing past in a blur of deep green and gold. The engine purred beneath us—smooth and powerful, with that faint hum of machinery barely restrained. Enchantments flickered along the chassis, adjusting course with each shift of air current, reacting faster than even me.
Rhea had her hair tied back, the wind tugging at her jacket as she leaned into the sidecar, grinning like a kid at the candy store. Elia sat beside her, spine straight, cloak pressed flat by the wind, utterly unfazed. She looked like she was in her element—cool, focused, tracking the horizon with sharp eyes while the air itself seemed to make way for her.
"Where we going?" Rhea called over the wind.
I grinned without turning. "Vegas, baby."
That got a short snort out of her. A dry, almost resigned sound.
"The fun part," I added, "is that we're heading to the Lotus Hotel."
Silence.
Then Elia's voice, calm and precise, cut through the rushing air. "That place distorts time. You step inside for a drink, and a decade passes. The air slows you down, softens the urgency in your head. They'll offer you those little lotus sweets—don't eat them. Don't even smell them too long."
Rhea blinked. "You've been?"
"Yes," Elia said. "Once."
"We're pulling out two demigods," I said. "Hades' kids. Supposedly, they've only been inside for a little while."
"And we're bringing them back to camp?" Rhea asked.
"Yep. Bag's enchanted. Sif's already curled up in it. There's room for two more."
Rhea glanced down at the pack clipped to my belt. "It's starting to feel less like a bag and more like a portable dungeon."
"Eh," I shrugged. "Call it a man cave."
Elia shook her head quietly, but didn't argue.
"And phase two?" Rhea asked, resting a hand on the edge of the sidecar.
"After we drop the kids off, we head north," I said. "British Museum. Harvard. Miskatonic University."
"Field trip?" she asked.
"Book-burning," I replied.
Rhea blinked. "...What?"
"There's a book," I said. "Bad one. People have made copies. We're getting rid of those."
Elia's eyes narrowed. "What does it summon?"
I didn't answer right away. Just let the silence stretch out for a beat.
"We're not letting them find out," I said finally. "We get there before it's read. We burn the copies and salt the ruins."
Rhea let out a long breath. "So. Casual arson is a thing for us now. Great."
"You signed up."
"I was worried you'd get lonely."
Elia didn't speak, but her fingers hovered near her knives.
The forest thinned below, giving way to rolling scrubland and dusty canyons. Ahead, the desert was creeping into view—flat, golden, and buzzing with the shimmer of dry heat. The Vegas skyline rose on the horizon, flickering like a mirage.
I slowed the Sparrow just a bit, letting us coast over a ridge of red-rock desert. The engine's whir dropped to a quiet growl. The engine dimmed as we entered the city.
I reached down to my pack, rummaging blindly for the compass I knew I'd stashed somewhere near the top. Before I could find it, something cold and wet bumped my wrist.
I glanced down.
Sif's snout had emerged from the bag—just her nose and one paw, like she was half-awake in whatever pocket dimension she'd folded herself into. She held something gently in her mouth.
I took it. "Thanks, Sif."
She gave a quiet huff and slipped back into the bag.
The compass was full of dog saliva and some bits of fur, I'll probably need to give her a doggy haircut soon.
Dangerous little gadget.
I held it flat in my palm.
The needle spun once. Then slowed. Then locked—dead ahead, right through the blur of neon rising in the distance.
"Welp," I said, tilting the compass to show the others. "Girls, I guess we found our target."
Elia turned toward me slowly. "Did you just call us 'girls'?"
I shrugged. "Well… you're a girl, Rhea's a girl, and Sif's a girl. I'm the only guy here."
Rhea was already smirking. I could feel it even without looking.
"And let's be honest," I added, "Sif's the only one actually older than me, but she cheats because she counts in wolf years."
The sidecar was silent for a beat.
Then Elia said flatly, "You're lucky I don't carry a bow."
"Please," I said. "You'd miss on purpose."
"I wouldn't."
Rhea laughed. "Not like that ever stopped you before."
The compass needle didn't budge. The Lotus Hotel waited.
The Sparrow touched down in the hotel's bike lot with a soft hiss , lights dimming along the chassis as the engine cooled. The Lotus Hotel loomed ahead, its neon signs flickered in smooth patterns.
I dismounted first, stretching the stiffness out of my back, then unclipped my pack and knelt beside it.
"Alright," I muttered, tugging the zipper open. "Let's get this over with."
I sifted through the mess—charms, a folded map of Nevada, half a protein bar, spare ambrosia—until I found a small, worn leather pouch. Inside, a stack of gold drachmas jingled softly against a separate wad of mortal cash that looked like it had been fished out of laundry.
"This," I said, holding up the cash, "is our mortal currency."
I handed Rhea a couple of crumpled hundreds, then passed another set to Elia, tucking the drachma pouch securely under my arm.
"Chiron gave me this for expenses," I said. "Which was... probably a mistake. I'm not the responsible one."
Rhea gave me a skeptical look as she folded her bills.
Pulling two more bills from the wad and tucking them into the bag's outer flap. "And this is for Sif. Gods know she is starting to eat like a cow now."
The bag gave a little twitch, like it knew we were talking about her.
I stood, brushed dust off my shirt, and pulled out the compass again. The needle pointed straight at the front doors.
I took a breath.
"Alright," I said. "Let's find the kids."
We stepped forward in sync, the hotel doors sliding open with a sigh. Like they were pleased to let us in.
Inside, everything softened. The air was thick with pleasant inertia. The scent was subtle—vanilla, linen, something floral. Music played, catchy blues tunes that gave way to jazz.
The chandeliers glittered in gold, dangling from a ceiling. People danced at the edge of vision—laughing, twirling, my eyes caught them glowing faintly with the glamour that meant they'd been here too long.
I glanced at the compass. Still steady. Still pointing forward—past the dancers, past the fountains, through the heart of the lobby.
To the blackjack table.
It sat empty. Lit from beneath like a stage waiting for its star.
I couldn't help it. I gave the compass a little kiss. "You really do follow my heart, huh?"
Rhea arched a brow. "Let me guess—your heart wants to gamble."
Elia crossed her arms. "Your heart is a liability."
They both gave me matching expressions of resigned irritation.
"We'll look for the kids," Rhea said. "Ten minutes."
"Fifteen," I offered, already drifting toward the table.
"Ten," Elia repeated, deadpan.
They melted into the crowd—into the surreal flow of a dream that didn't care if you ever woke up. Dancers spun. Gamblers smiled. Waitresses moved like ghosts made of perfume and good intentions.
I strolled up to the cashier's window. The woman behind the glass had skin like polished obsidian and soft green eyes, half open as she slowly as they studied me. She smiled—already knowing.
"Buying in?" she asked, voice smooth as velvet.
"Yeah," I said. "Little mix of mortal and divine."
I dropped the mortal cash first—crumpled, damp bills that didn't even get a blink. Then I dropped the leather pouch of drachmas.
It hit the glass with a thump.
The woman's smile shifted—subtle, but sharp.
"We don't usually accept this currency," she said.
"But...?" I prompted.
She ran a fingertip along the pouch, then lifted it like she was handling someone's life savings. "But for you? We'll make an exception."
She vanished into the back for all of ten seconds and returned with a tray full of chips—black and gold, heavy and sharp-edged, with an soft tune of magic that made my palm itch.
I let out a low whistle. "Didn't realize I was buying a seat at Olympus."
She winked. "Win big, hero."
I took the tray and made my way to the table. Sat in the middle seat.
I placed my hand flat on the felt. Let magic trickle down through my fingers. Enhance Ability.
The lights overhead flickered slightly.
"Let's see how far a little cheating gets me," I murmured.
And the game began.
The chips started to stack. Not in wild bursts or dramatic streaks, but steadily—hand after hand, like the cards wanted me to win. Blackjack. Twenty. Nineteen with the dealer busting. Nothing outrageous. Just a run of improbable, almost polite success.
A few hands in, the first player arrived.
He was massive—a Cyclops in a burgundy suit so tight it looked custom-molded. His one eye peered through a thick, brass-rimmed monocle as he grunted a greeting and eased into the chair to my right. He didn't speak. Just nodded at the dealer and slid a stack of chips forward with thick sausage fingers.
He was methodical. Slow. Hit when it made sense. Stayed quiet.
Then the third player arrived.
Late teens. Early twenties, maybe. Tan skin, cropped ginger hair. His clothes were too neat for a drifter, too plain for a local. His walk was tight. Like his body had been trained to move through hostile ground.
But it was the tattoo that caught me.
SPQR, just barely visible under a rolled-up sleeve. An eagle clutching a standard. Roman.
My fingers stilled on the felt. I didn't recognize him—but every instinct I had went on quiet alert.
He sat without a word. Nodded once to the dealer. Bought in with mortal cash and played his first hand, It was textbook, but not in a good sense, I could tell how he would act.
He didn't look at me.
But he knew I was watching him.
We kept playing. The Cyclops grunted occasionally. The Roman didn't say a thing. The chips shifted back and forth like tides, and the cards came smooth and sharp.
The Roman eyes kept drifting to the exits. The ceiling. The dealer's hands. Me.
He caught me glancing once, and for a moment, our eyes locked.
He knew.
Not everything. Maybe not anything specific. But he knew what I was. Or at least that I wasn't normal.
Eventually, he pushed back from the table. Scooped his modest pile of chips with grace and walked to the cashier without a backward glance. I followed him with my eyes—just subtly.
He leaned in, said something I couldn't hear.
And the cashier handed him coins.
Not drachmas. Not mortal bucks either.
He palmed them, glanced once toward the blackjack table—toward me—then turned and vanished into the Lotus Hotel like he'd never existed.
My chips were ridiculous now. A miniature skyline of black-gold towers stacked in front of me. The dealer dealt again without flinching. Blackjack. Twenty-one. Another win.
I tapped the table once. Then again. Just enough to keep rhythm.
Until she appeared.
Tall. Graceful. Skin like dusk, eyes molten and slow-moving like honey in a glass. She wore a cocktail waitress outfit, but it clung to her like silk. Her tray was empty. Her footsteps made no sound.
She approached from behind, one hand trailing lightly along my shoulder before she leaned in close—voice velvet.
"You're winning big," she whispered, almost like it was a compliment. "Too big for this table."
I didn't look up from the cards.
"Is that so?" I said, voice mild.
"Mhm." Her fingers brushed the top of my shoulder again. "You've drawn some attention. The House doesn't usually mind a winning streak, but…"
"But?" I asked, flipping a chip lazily through my fingers.
She smiled. "They'd prefer you move up. VIP room. Better odds. Higher stakes. Private tables, with your own kind."
I turned to look at her.
"Or," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, "you could cash out. Take your winnings and go. No hard feelings."
I looked at the chips. The cards. The compass still burning a line in my pocket.
Still no sign of Rhea. Or Elia. Or the Hades kids.
But the needle hadn't moved.
I looked up at her. Smiled slow.
"Tempting," I said.
And meant it.
CP Bank:500cp
Perks earned this chapter: None.
Milestones: Quest start: High roller- 500cp
Ares landed beside me with a solid thud, boots cracking against the path and kicking up a puff of dust. A nearby camper yelped. Someone dropped their goblet. Another muttered something that definitely included the word "Lucas."
I shifted my stance, getting used to the new weight in my limbs. Taller. Sharper. My body moved like it had finally decided to be mine—like the engine under the hood finally matched the driver.
"Alright, kid," Ares said, cracking his neck with a satisfying pop. "You're back."
He gave me a quick once-over and grinned.
"Lookin' jacked, by the way. Olympus light treating you good?"
I smirked. "You could say that."
"Hell yeah," he said, then clapped me on the back hard enough to realign my skeleton. "Now go strut that golden-ass up to the Big House before Chiron starts sending out search parties."
He turned with a whistle, already summoning his warbike from the wind like it owed him backpay. "I'm off to see if Persephone's garden nymphs still hate me."
And just like that, he vanished, but the smell of gunpowder, leather and sweat stayed in the air.
I stood there for a moment longer, letting it sink in.
Campers were watching. Not all of them recognized me right away.
"He's back," someone whispered.
I adjusted my shirt. Rolled my shoulders.
Then I walked toward the Big House.
Chiron looked up from a stack of paperwork as I stepped into the Big House. His eyes scanned me like he was taking inventory—broader shoulders, deeper shadows under the eyes.
"You've changed," he said, setting his pen down.
"Caught a bit of sun," I replied, sliding into the chair across from him.
Chiron tilted his head. "Olympus sun?"
I shrugged. "Hits different."
He nodded slowly. "So. What did they give you?"
I exhaled and leaned forward, elbows on the desk.
"Two quests," I said. "First one's from Hades. He wants two demigods extracted from the Vegas area. His kids."
That earned his full attention.
"Two children of Hades?" he repeated.
"Hades wants them out of dodge. Brought to Camp. Alive. Preferably untraumatized."
Chiron's face pinched slightly. "Which, in our experience, means they're already traumatized."
I didn't argue. "Yeah."
"And the second quest?"
I hesitated—on purpose.
Then, carefully: "That one came from the Olympian Council."
Chiron sat up straighter, frowning. "The full council?"
"Zeus signed off on it."
"What's it involve?"
I met his gaze. "Let's just say… I've been told not to explain unless absolutely necessary."
He went still.
"And the rescue mission? It's connected?"
"Deeply," I said. "Which means I can't say what they need rescuing from. Only that we need to get everyone remotely useful or sympathetic out of Vegas now."
Chiron leaned back, hands steepled. His eyes narrowed.
After a long pause, Chiron asked, "You planning to go alone?"
"Probably not," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Rhea's top of my list."
That raised a brow. "Rhea?"
"She's smart. Calm under pressure. Already suspects something's coming. Better to point her at it than leave her guessing."
He nodded. "And Sif?"
"Of course," I said. "Not leaving her behind. But I might bring a third—someone to help anchor her if things get… weird."
Chiron gave me a look. "Weird."
"You know the kind."
He didn't argue.
"Any candidates?"
"Not yet," I admitted. "Maybe someone from the cabins. Maybe a satyr. Just someone who knows their mythology to be our guide."
I turned toward the door.
"Oh—and if anyone asks?"
Chiron raised an eyebrow.
"I'm going on a rescue mission. Just a quick trip west. Nice and simple."
"And the second quest?"
I smiled, just a little.
"What second quest?"
CP Bank:0cp
Perks earned this chapter: 100cp Puissance (Marvel Primal) [Benevolence] You once consumed a mysterious heart-shaped herb and ever since have been stronger and swifter than other men.
Milestones: None.411Magus exploratorMay 13, 2025View discussionThreadmarks Chapter 32- Let's go Gambling! WooooW.View contentMagus exploratorMay 16, 2025#2,233Night fell soft over Camp Half-Blood. The stars were out, and the central firepit burned low and steady, its orange glow dancing across the faces of gathered campers. The amphitheater was packed. Cabins clustered together on their benches, talking in low voices—some already half-asleep, others wide-eyed, sensing something was coming. Even the Huntresses of Artemis, usually gone before nightfall, lingered at the edge of the gathering. They stood apart, silver hoods up, arms crossed.
Chiron stood at the front, scroll in hand. He waited until the murmurs settled, then cleared his throat.
"Campers," he began, voice carrying easily across the flickering silence. "Before we close the day, I have a few announcements."
There was the usual rustle—backs straightening, a few muttered jokes dying mid-breath.
"The kitchen is requesting that all Apollo cabin members stop experimenting with divine herbs in the tea urn. It is not a cauldron. And it is not a safe method for medicine making."
A few scattered laughs. One guilty cough.
Chiron didn't smile.
"The eastern boundary stones have been shifted slightly to account for dryad migration. If you feel vines trying to untie your sandals in the woods, walk away and don't flirt back."
That earned more laughter. Someone elbowed a satyr.
But then Chiron lowered the scroll, and the air shifted.
"I also have something more serious to discuss."
That silenced what was left of the whispers. Even the fire quieted, its crackle suddenly. Chiron looked over the crowd. His voice remained even, but the warmth had thinned.
"A quest has been issued," Chiron continued. "In fact—two."
He turned, slow and deliberate. "Lucas."
I heard my name like a thread pulled taut.
"Would you step forward?"
I stepped into the firelight, hands in my pockets, and took a deep breath. Then I flashed a grin.
"Hey there, people! Who's ready for adventure?" I said, pitching my voice as corny as I could manage—full Saturday morning cartoon energy.
There was a beat of confused silence. Then laughter. A few groans.
Good. Got their attention.
"I got called to Olympus last night," I continued, more grounded now. "Things... devolved a bit."
That earned a few chuckles.
"And I've been issued two quests. From the gods."
That stopped the laughter cold. A few oohs and ahhs rippled through the amphitheater, followed by murmurs of surprise. Even the Huntresses straightened.
I nodded.
"I won't lie to you—this one's probably going to be rough. Like, really rough. Maybe worse than anything we've faced so far."
The fire cracked behind me.
"But someone's gotta do it. And that someone's us. Demigods."
A few heads nodded in the front row. Some kids looked nervous. Others… interested.
I paused, let the noise build for a moment, let it crest. Then held up a hand.
"This quest also probably requires more brainpower than I've got in my noggin," I said, knocking lightly on my temple. "So I'm assembling a team. Two others. And my dog."
I glanced across the crowd, letting my voice drop just slightly.
"Any takers?"
The fire popped once, and I could feel the eyes on me—campers thinking, calculating, waiting to see who'd flinch first.
Then Rhea stood, arms folded over her chest, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear:
"You probably need someone to keep an eye on you."
I raised an eyebrow.
She met my look evenly. "Especially with Jasper gone."
I didn't say anything. Just nodded.
Rhea stepped forward and took her place beside me, calm and steady as always. I felt the ground firm up a little under my feet.
Then another figure moved—soft, sure-footed. One of the Huntresses stepped out from the shadows. She lowered her hood as she entered the firelight, black hair catching the flame, face young but eyes far older.
"I'll join him," she said simply.
Even the Huntresses turned to look at her in surprise. She ignored them.
Chiron tilted his head slightly but didn't interrupt.
I looked at her. "Name?"
"Elia."
I nodded. "Welcome to the Suicide squad."
I turned back to the crowd.
"This is the team. Rhea. Elia. Me. Sif."
Right on cue, Sif let out a low, proud howl from the shadows. A few campers flinched. One kid from the Hermes cabin nearly fell off the bench.
I let a small grin tug at the corner of my mouth.
"We leave at dawn," I said.
Three Hephaestus kids were poking around the hull—two with notebooks, one with a wrench half the size of his torso. One of them was actively trying to unscrew the landing struts.
"No, no, nope," I said as I jogged up, slapping a hand down over the nearest hatch control. "Off," I repeated, pointing. "Now."
The kid grumbled, but the wrench went down. The other two gave the ship a few more longing glances and finally backed off.
"Can we at least scan it?"
"No."
"Photograph it?"
"No."
"Sketch—?"
"No."
I turned and gave the Sparrow a quick once-over. No damage, no stolen copper wiring.
Elia arrived next, silent as a breeze, her silver cloak tucked back, twin knives strapped tight across her back. Sif padded in last, tail high, eyes already scanning the woods like she expected trouble to burst out of the pines any minute.
I looked at my team. The three of them. My bike behind me. The cold air biting my lungs.
"All aboard," I said, slapping the hull twice.
I swung one leg over the saddle and dropped my backpack next to the front stabilizer strut. Sif lumbered in behind me.
And I do mean lumbered.
She'd grown again. Not by much, but enough. Her paws left impressions in the earth, her shoulders nearly at my ribcage now. Her fur probably large enough to count as heavy armor.
She padded up to the pack and, without a sound, shoved her snout into the opening.
The bag stretched.
The opening expanded to match her size, just wide enough to take in her massive frame as she stepped forward—one paw, then another, then her chest, her tail swishing once before disappearing like smoke. The bag snapped closed behind her with a soft fwump.
I clipped it back to the side of the saddle like this was normal.
Behind me, Elia blinked. "What—did she just—?"
"She does that," I said.
Elia didn't move. "You just put a giant wolf in a sack."
"Magic sack," Rhea added, striding up with a roll of her shoulders. "It's fine."
"'Fine' is not the word I'd use," Elia muttered, but she didn't argue as she climbed into the sidecar. Rhea followed, adjusting the straps across her chest as she got comfortable. Both of them fit—just barely—knees not touching, elbows braced.
I pulled down my goggles and flicked the ignition button.
The Sparrow gave a low, hungry whirrrr, engine plates glowing faintly under my legs.
"We should be there by eleven," I said, glancing back at them. "Two pm at the latest. We'll talk details once we've cleared the wards and we're out of earshot."
"Clear," Rhea said.
Elia just nodded.
I leaned forward, one hand on the throttle.
"Hold on," I said, grinning. "She kicks harder than she looks."
And we shot into the sky like a god had just slapped us on the back.
The Sparrow tore across the sky just above the treetops, the forest rushing past in a blur of deep green and gold. The engine purred beneath us—smooth and powerful, with that faint hum of machinery barely restrained. Enchantments flickered along the chassis, adjusting course with each shift of air current, reacting faster than even me.
Rhea had her hair tied back, the wind tugging at her jacket as she leaned into the sidecar, grinning like a kid at the candy store. Elia sat beside her, spine straight, cloak pressed flat by the wind, utterly unfazed. She looked like she was in her element—cool, focused, tracking the horizon with sharp eyes while the air itself seemed to make way for her.
"Where we going?" Rhea called over the wind.
I grinned without turning. "Vegas, baby."
That got a short snort out of her. A dry, almost resigned sound.
"The fun part," I added, "is that we're heading to the Lotus Hotel."
Silence.
Then Elia's voice, calm and precise, cut through the rushing air. "That place distorts time. You step inside for a drink, and a decade passes. The air slows you down, softens the urgency in your head. They'll offer you those little lotus sweets—don't eat them. Don't even smell them too long."
Rhea blinked. "You've been?"
"Yes," Elia said. "Once."
"We're pulling out two demigods," I said. "Hades' kids. Supposedly, they've only been inside for a little while."
"And we're bringing them back to camp?" Rhea asked.
"Yep. Bag's enchanted. Sif's already curled up in it. There's room for two more."
Rhea glanced down at the pack clipped to my belt. "It's starting to feel less like a bag and more like a portable dungeon."
"Eh," I shrugged. "Call it a man cave."
Elia shook her head quietly, but didn't argue.
"And phase two?" Rhea asked, resting a hand on the edge of the sidecar.
"After we drop the kids off, we head north," I said. "British Museum. Harvard. Miskatonic University."
"Field trip?" she asked.
"Book-burning," I replied.
Rhea blinked. "...What?"
"There's a book," I said. "Bad one. People have made copies. We're getting rid of those."
Elia's eyes narrowed. "What does it summon?"
I didn't answer right away. Just let the silence stretch out for a beat.
"We're not letting them find out," I said finally. "We get there before it's read. We burn the copies and salt the ruins."
Rhea let out a long breath. "So. Casual arson is a thing for us now. Great."
"You signed up."
"I was worried you'd get lonely."
Elia didn't speak, but her fingers hovered near her knives.
The forest thinned below, giving way to rolling scrubland and dusty canyons. Ahead, the desert was creeping into view—flat, golden, and buzzing with the shimmer of dry heat. The Vegas skyline rose on the horizon, flickering like a mirage.
I slowed the Sparrow just a bit, letting us coast over a ridge of red-rock desert. The engine's whir dropped to a quiet growl. The engine dimmed as we entered the city.
I reached down to my pack, rummaging blindly for the compass I knew I'd stashed somewhere near the top. Before I could find it, something cold and wet bumped my wrist.
I glanced down.
Sif's snout had emerged from the bag—just her nose and one paw, like she was half-awake in whatever pocket dimension she'd folded herself into. She held something gently in her mouth.
I took it. "Thanks, Sif."
She gave a quiet huff and slipped back into the bag.
The compass was full of dog saliva and some bits of fur, I'll probably need to give her a doggy haircut soon.
Dangerous little gadget.
I held it flat in my palm.
The needle spun once. Then slowed. Then locked—dead ahead, right through the blur of neon rising in the distance.
"Welp," I said, tilting the compass to show the others. "Girls, I guess we found our target."
Elia turned toward me slowly. "Did you just call us 'girls'?"
I shrugged. "Well… you're a girl, Rhea's a girl, and Sif's a girl. I'm the only guy here."
Rhea was already smirking. I could feel it even without looking.
"And let's be honest," I added, "Sif's the only one actually older than me, but she cheats because she counts in wolf years."
The sidecar was silent for a beat.
Then Elia said flatly, "You're lucky I don't carry a bow."
"Please," I said. "You'd miss on purpose."
"I wouldn't."
Rhea laughed. "Not like that ever stopped you before."
The compass needle didn't budge. The Lotus Hotel waited.
The Sparrow touched down in the hotel's bike lot with a soft hiss , lights dimming along the chassis as the engine cooled. The Lotus Hotel loomed ahead, its neon signs flickered in smooth patterns.
I dismounted first, stretching the stiffness out of my back, then unclipped my pack and knelt beside it.
"Alright," I muttered, tugging the zipper open. "Let's get this over with."
I sifted through the mess—charms, a folded map of Nevada, half a protein bar, spare ambrosia—until I found a small, worn leather pouch. Inside, a stack of gold drachmas jingled softly against a separate wad of mortal cash that looked like it had been fished out of laundry.
"This," I said, holding up the cash, "is our mortal currency."
I handed Rhea a couple of crumpled hundreds, then passed another set to Elia, tucking the drachma pouch securely under my arm.
"Chiron gave me this for expenses," I said. "Which was... probably a mistake. I'm not the responsible one."
Rhea gave me a skeptical look as she folded her bills.
Pulling two more bills from the wad and tucking them into the bag's outer flap. "And this is for Sif. Gods know she is starting to eat like a cow now."
The bag gave a little twitch, like it knew we were talking about her.
I stood, brushed dust off my shirt, and pulled out the compass again. The needle pointed straight at the front doors.
I took a breath.
"Alright," I said. "Let's find the kids."
We stepped forward in sync, the hotel doors sliding open with a sigh. Like they were pleased to let us in.
Inside, everything softened. The air was thick with pleasant inertia. The scent was subtle—vanilla, linen, something floral. Music played, catchy blues tunes that gave way to jazz.
The chandeliers glittered in gold, dangling from a ceiling. People danced at the edge of vision—laughing, twirling, my eyes caught them glowing faintly with the glamour that meant they'd been here too long.
I glanced at the compass. Still steady. Still pointing forward—past the dancers, past the fountains, through the heart of the lobby.
To the blackjack table.
It sat empty. Lit from beneath like a stage waiting for its star.
I couldn't help it. I gave the compass a little kiss. "You really do follow my heart, huh?"
Rhea arched a brow. "Let me guess—your heart wants to gamble."
Elia crossed her arms. "Your heart is a liability."
They both gave me matching expressions of resigned irritation.
"We'll look for the kids," Rhea said. "Ten minutes."
"Fifteen," I offered, already drifting toward the table.
"Ten," Elia repeated, deadpan.
They melted into the crowd—into the surreal flow of a dream that didn't care if you ever woke up. Dancers spun. Gamblers smiled. Waitresses moved like ghosts made of perfume and good intentions.
I strolled up to the cashier's window. The woman behind the glass had skin like polished obsidian and soft green eyes, half open as she slowly as they studied me. She smiled—already knowing.
"Buying in?" she asked, voice smooth as velvet.
"Yeah," I said. "Little mix of mortal and divine."
I dropped the mortal cash first—crumpled, damp bills that didn't even get a blink. Then I dropped the leather pouch of drachmas.
It hit the glass with a thump.
The woman's smile shifted—subtle, but sharp.
"We don't usually accept this currency," she said.
"But...?" I prompted.
She ran a fingertip along the pouch, then lifted it like she was handling someone's life savings. "But for you? We'll make an exception."
She vanished into the back for all of ten seconds and returned with a tray full of chips—black and gold, heavy and sharp-edged, with an soft tune of magic that made my palm itch.
I let out a low whistle. "Didn't realize I was buying a seat at Olympus."
She winked. "Win big, hero."
I took the tray and made my way to the table. Sat in the middle seat.
I placed my hand flat on the felt. Let magic trickle down through my fingers. Enhance Ability.
The lights overhead flickered slightly.
"Let's see how far a little cheating gets me," I murmured.
And the game began.
The chips started to stack. Not in wild bursts or dramatic streaks, but steadily—hand after hand, like the cards wanted me to win. Blackjack. Twenty. Nineteen with the dealer busting. Nothing outrageous. Just a run of improbable, almost polite success.
A few hands in, the first player arrived.
He was massive—a Cyclops in a burgundy suit so tight it looked custom-molded. His one eye peered through a thick, brass-rimmed monocle as he grunted a greeting and eased into the chair to my right. He didn't speak. Just nodded at the dealer and slid a stack of chips forward with thick sausage fingers.
He was methodical. Slow. Hit when it made sense. Stayed quiet.
Then the third player arrived.
Late teens. Early twenties, maybe. Tan skin, cropped ginger hair. His clothes were too neat for a drifter, too plain for a local. His walk was tight. Like his body had been trained to move through hostile ground.
But it was the tattoo that caught me.
SPQR, just barely visible under a rolled-up sleeve. An eagle clutching a standard. Roman.
My fingers stilled on the felt. I didn't recognize him—but every instinct I had went on quiet alert.
He sat without a word. Nodded once to the dealer. Bought in with mortal cash and played his first hand, It was textbook, but not in a good sense, I could tell how he would act.
He didn't look at me.
But he knew I was watching him.
We kept playing. The Cyclops grunted occasionally. The Roman didn't say a thing. The chips shifted back and forth like tides, and the cards came smooth and sharp.
The Roman eyes kept drifting to the exits. The ceiling. The dealer's hands. Me.
He caught me glancing once, and for a moment, our eyes locked.
He knew.
Not everything. Maybe not anything specific. But he knew what I was. Or at least that I wasn't normal.
Eventually, he pushed back from the table. Scooped his modest pile of chips with grace and walked to the cashier without a backward glance. I followed him with my eyes—just subtly.
He leaned in, said something I couldn't hear.
And the cashier handed him coins.
Not drachmas. Not mortal bucks either.
He palmed them, glanced once toward the blackjack table—toward me—then turned and vanished into the Lotus Hotel like he'd never existed.
My chips were ridiculous now. A miniature skyline of black-gold towers stacked in front of me. The dealer dealt again without flinching. Blackjack. Twenty-one. Another win.
I tapped the table once. Then again. Just enough to keep rhythm.
Until she appeared.
Tall. Graceful. Skin like dusk, eyes molten and slow-moving like honey in a glass. She wore a cocktail waitress outfit, but it clung to her like silk. Her tray was empty. Her footsteps made no sound.
She approached from behind, one hand trailing lightly along my shoulder before she leaned in close—voice velvet.
"You're winning big," she whispered, almost like it was a compliment. "Too big for this table."
I didn't look up from the cards.
"Is that so?" I said, voice mild.
"Mhm." Her fingers brushed the top of my shoulder again. "You've drawn some attention. The House doesn't usually mind a winning streak, but…"
"But?" I asked, flipping a chip lazily through my fingers.
She smiled. "They'd prefer you move up. VIP room. Better odds. Higher stakes. Private tables, with your own kind."
I turned to look at her.
"Or," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, "you could cash out. Take your winnings and go. No hard feelings."
I looked at the chips. The cards. The compass still burning a line in my pocket.
Still no sign of Rhea. Or Elia. Or the Hades kids.
But the needle hadn't moved.
I looked up at her. Smiled slow.
"Tempting," I said.
And meant it.
CP Bank:500cp
Perks earned this chapter: None.
Milestones: Quest start: High roller- 500cp