The smart thing would've been to wait until morning.
Say proper goodbyes. Accept whatever help the Hunters offered. Leave like a civilized person.
But I'd never been accused of being smart.
So instead, I was creeping through camp at 2 AM like the world's worst burglar.
The problem?
I was NOT good at being stealthy.
Not metaphorically. LITERALLY. My skin probably had a faint golden shimmer even when I wasn't using my powers. Like a built-in nightlight feature.
Great for reading in the dark. Terrible for sneaking.
Every step crunched. Every breath seemed too loud. And I was pretty sure the ambient heat radiating off me was making the nearby grass wilt.
But I kept going anyway.
The camp was quiet. Just three tents now—mine, Zoe's, and Naomi's. Artemis had taken most of the Hunt with Phoebe and Atalanta off to some secret Hunter healing sanctuary.
I tried not to think about Phoebe's legs. The way the bones had been... wrong. Twisted at angles that made me sick to remember.
Or Atalanta, unconscious and pale when they carried her away.
Focus. Quest. Alcatraz. Dragon.
Don't think about—
Nope. Not thinking about it.
I made it past the fire pit. Past the supply area. Almost to the tree line.
Victory was in sight.
Then—
"Thou art terrible at stealth, fool."
I stopped mid-step.
Damn it.
I turned slowly.
Zoe stood twenty feet behind me, arms crossed, my greatsword strapped across her back. The moonlight made her look even MORE unfairly beautiful than usual.
Which was NOT helping my current situation.
"I was just—"
"Sneaking away like a thief in the night?" She raised an eyebrow. "Without thy weapon? Without supplies? Without even the courtesy of a farewell?"
"I—"
"You were planning on completing quest ALONE." Not a question. An accusation.
"The quest is mine," I said. "I can't—"
"Cannot WHAT?" Naomi appeared from the shadows on my left. "Can't accept help? Can't trust us? Can't admit you're scared?"
How are they EVERYWHERE?
"I'm not scared—"
"Thou art terrified," Zoe interrupted. "And fleeing. Like a—what is the modern term, Naomi?"
"Chicken?" Naomi offered.
"I prefer 'coward,'" Zoe said flatly.
"Hey—"
"A noble coward," she amended. "But still a coward."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Had no defense for that.
"Look," I said finally. "I just don't want anyone else getting hurt because of me. Phoebe's legs are destroyed. Atalanta might have permanent brain damage. And before that, six people died on that bus. So yeah, maybe I AM a coward. But at least I'm a coward who's trying not to get anyone ELSE killed."
Silence.
Then Naomi sighed.
"Zoe? Should we tell him he's being stupid?"
"Aye."
"Cool." Naomi looked at me. "You're being stupid."
"Thanks. Very helpful."
"ARTEMIS!" Zoe called out, not taking her eyes off me.
Oh no.
The Intervention
Silver light flared.
Artemis appeared, looking deeply annoyed at being woken up.
"This had BETTER be—" She saw me. Saw my expression. Saw the bag. "Oh. The midnight escape. Right on schedule."
She didn't sound surprised. Just resigned.
"He was trying to leave," Zoe reported.
"I can see that."
"Without his weapon."
"I noticed."
"In the middle of the night."
"Zoe, I have eyes." Artemis looked at me. "So. Running away?"
"It's not running away, it's—"
"Strategic withdrawal? Solo quest completion? Heroic self-sacrifice?" She waved a hand. "I've heard them all. They're all just fancy words for running away."
I bristled. "I'm trying to protect—"
"Us?" Artemis laughed. Not kindly. "Boy, we're HUNTERS. We've been fighting monsters since before your great-great-grandparents were BORN. We don't need protection."
"But Phoebe and Atalanta—"
"Made their own choices," she interrupted. "They're warriors. They knew the risks. Treating their injuries like YOUR fault is insulting to THEM."
I blinked. "What?"
"You think they fought Sybaris because of YOU? They fought because there was a dragon. In THEIR territory. Threatening THEIR camp." Artemis's voice was firm. "You were there, yes. But they would have fought regardless."
"I..."
I hadn't thought of it that way.
"And those six mortals on the bus?" Naomi added quietly. "The dragon was hunting YOU specifically, right?"
"Yeah."
"So if you HADN'T been there, the dragon might have killed EVERYONE. Whole bus. Thirty, forty people." She met my eyes. "You saved most of them. Lost six. That's... that's not nothing."
"But—"
"But you wanted to save EVERYONE," Zoe finished. "And thou cannot. No one can. Not even the gods themselves."
Silence.
Artemis studied me. "You're not cursed, Aditya. You're not some walking disaster. You're just a demigod on a quest. People get hurt on quests. It's tragic. It's terrible. But it's not YOUR FAULT."
"Then whose fault is it?"
"The Fates',us gods," she said simply. "Prophecy. Destiny. The cosmic machinery that puts fourteen-year-olds in impossible situations and calls it 'heroism.'"
Her voice was bitter.
"But you know what ISN'T helpful? Running away to die alone because you think you deserve it."
"I don't—"
"You DO." Naomi stepped forward. "You absolutely do. You've got that whole 'tragic hero marching to his doom' vibe going on. It's very dramatic. Also very STUPID."
Despite everything, I almost smiled. "Stupid?"
"SO stupid," she confirmed cheerfully. "Like, monumentally stupid. Epically stupid. The kind of stupid that gets people killed."
"She's not wrong," Zoe added.
I looked at the three of them. At Artemis's stern expression. At Naomi's concern hiding behind humor. At Zoe's—
Don't get distracted by how gorgeous she is. Focus.
"So what do you want me to do?" I asked. "Just... accept help? Let you come with me?"
"We're NOT coming with you," Artemis said. "I have Olympus business. The Hunt has duties. And your quest is YOURS."
"Then—"
"But you don't have to go WEAPONLESS like an idiot," Zoe interrupted.
She unstrapped my greatsword from her back.
The Greatsword
Zoe unstrapped my greatsword from her back with practiced ease.
"This is thy weapon," she said, formal as always. "I have maintained it. Cared for it. Honored it as befits a warrior's blade."
She held it out horizontally across both palms.
I took it carefully.
And stopped.
The blade was PERFECT.
Not just clean. PERFECT.
Every trace of dragon blood—gone. The edge sharpened to a razor finish that caught the moonlight like a mirror. The fuller—that groove running down the center—had been meticulously cleaned, not a speck of grime left.
The leather grip had been completely rewrapped. Tighter. More secure. Better than it had been even when NEW.
Even the crossguard gleamed. Polished. Oiled. The celestial bronze practically glowing.
"You..." I looked up at her. "You completely refurbished it."
"A warrior's weapon is sacred," Zoe said simply. "To neglect it would be dishonorable. To leave it less than perfect would be insulting to the blade's spirit."
"The blade's... spirit?"
"All weapons carry the spirit of those who wield them. Thy greatsword has tasted dragon blood. Saved thy life. Protected thee." She met my eyes. "It deserved respect."
I stared at the sword. At the hours of work this must have taken. The care. The attention to detail.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "Really. This is... this is amazing."
"'Twas my duty."
"It was MORE than duty." I looked up at her again.
And made a terrible mistake.
I got distracted.
Really distracted.
The moonlight was hitting her at EXACTLY the wrong angle. Or the right angle. Depending on perspective.
Her face—gods, her FACE. High cheekbones that could cut glass. Dark eyes that were somehow both fierce and soft at the same time. Lips that were pressed into a serious line but still looked...
Stop. Staring.
But I couldn't.
Her hair fell in dark waves past her shoulders, moving slightly in the night breeze. A few strands had come loose from behind her ear, framing her face perfectly.
And her figure—
The Hunter uniform should NOT be that flattering. It was ARMOR. Practical. Functional.
But somehow on Zoe it looked...
Stop it. Stop staring. She's an immortal huntress with fucking ARTEMIS.
She was tall. Graceful. Every movement flowing like water. And the way the armor fit her—
"Aditya?"
I blinked. "What?"
"I asked if the grip felt comfortable."
"Oh. Yeah. Yes. Very comfortable. Good grip. Excellent... gripping."
Smooth. Real smooth.
Naomi was trying SO HARD not to laugh.
I forced myself to look down at the sword. Not at Zoe. Definitely not at Zoe.
"The balance is perfect too," I said, giving it a test swing. "You adjusted the weight distribution?"
"Aye. The pommel was slightly too heavy. I filed it down. Added lead weights to the crossguard to compensate. The blade should feel lighter now. More responsive."
She'd REBALANCED it.
From scratch.
"How long did this take you?"
"Most of yesterday evening. And this morning." She shrugged like it was nothing. "I had time while thou were recovering."
"That's... that's at least eight hours of work."
"Seven hours and forty-three minutes," she corrected. "But who counts?"
She counted.
She spent almost eight hours restoring my sword.
I looked at her again. Tried to say something. Anything.
Got distracted AGAIN.
Because seriously. How was ANYONE this beautiful?
It wasn't fair. It was cosmically unfair. The universe had created this person and made her completely, impossibly, unfairly GORGEOUS.
And I was standing here like an idiot, staring at her, probably with my mouth hanging open like—
"AHEM."
The sound cut through my thoughts like a knife.
I looked over.
Artemis was giving me a LOOK.
Not just any look.
The LOOK.
The kind of look that said: I see exactly what you're doing and I am NOT amused.
Her twelve-year-old face was somehow more intimidating than any monster I'd ever faced.
Her eyes—silver, cold, ANCIENT—were narrowed to slits.
One eyebrow was raised.
Her expression screamed: YOU. BOY. STARING. AT MY LIEUTENANT. EXPLAIN.
Oh gods oh gods oh gods—
I straightened so fast my spine made a sound like a xylophone.
"MY LADY," I said, way too loud. "The sword is EXCELLENT. Thank you for—Zoe did an amazing job—I mean with the sword—the MAINTENANCE—not with—I wasn't—"
Artemis's eyebrow climbed higher.
"—looking at anything inappropriate I was just admiring the CRAFTSMANSHIP and the—the blade is very sharp—excellent sharpness—top-tier sharpening—"
Naomi was dying. Actually dying. She'd turned away and was making sounds like a choking hyena.
Zoe looked confused. "What is wrong with him?"
"Nothing!" I said. "Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. I'm fine. The sword is fine. We're all fine."
Artemis continued STARING.
I strapped the greatsword across my back with shaking hands, very carefully not looking at anyone.
Smooth. Real smooth. Way to not be suspicious.
The Gifts
Finally, FINALLY, Artemis stopped giving me the death stare.
She pulled out a silver coin from her jacket—which somehow had pockets despite being a silver parka that shouldn't physically be able to HAVE pockets.
Goddess magic. Probably.
"This is my favor," she said, pressing it into my hand. "One call. When you need help most—when death seems certain—flip this coin and speak my name. I will come."
I looked at the coin. It was small. Ancient. Worn smooth from age. Artemis's profile was stamped on one side, a full moon on the other.
"I can't—"
"You CAN and you WILL." Her voice was absolute. "Because I refuse to watch another hero die because they were too PROUD to ask for help."
"But—"
"NO." The word hit like a hammer. "Take the favor. Use it if you need it. Or don't. But you WILL have the option. Clear?"
I pocketed the coin.
"Good." She turned to Naomi. "The spare bow."
"Oh! Right!" Naomi jogged over to the supply tent.
I watched her go. "Spare bow?"
"You can't very well fight whatever awaits you with just a sword," Artemis said. "You were competent with a bow against my hunters right. 'Unnaturally good' was the exact description."
"I trained for a few weeks—"
"Divine blood." She said it like that explained everything.
Naomi came back carrying a bow and a quiver.
The bow was... not special.
It wasn't silver like Artemis's legendary weapon. Wasn't ornate or decorated or glowing with divine power.
It was just a bow.
A Hunter training bow. Standard recurve design. Good wood. Well-made. Practical.
The kind of bow that got used by a dozen different Hunters over the years until it was beaten up and reliable.
"It's a loaner," Naomi said, handing it over. "From our training stock. We've got extras and you need one, so... yeah."
I took it carefully.
It felt GOOD in my hands. Not magical-good. Just... right. The right weight. The right draw. The right balance.
"It feels..." I pulled back the string experimentally. Perfect tension. "Familiar.Nice."
"Because it is. Divine blood carries knowledge. Skill. INSTINCT." She gestured at the bow. "That's standard issue. Nothing special. But in YOUR hands..."
She didn't finish the sentence.
Didn't need to.
Naomi held out the quiver. "Twenty arrows! Celestial bronze. I counted them myself."
"You already said that," Zoe pointed out.
"I know! But I counted them THREE times because I kept thinking I miscounted. But I didn't! It's definitely twenty!"
She was way too excited about arrow inventory.
I took the quiver, strapped it across my back alongside the greatsword.
Bow in hand. Blade on back. Arrows ready.
For the first time since losing my sword to Sybaris, I felt... prepared.
"The bow comes BACK," Artemis said firmly. "It's a loaner. Not a gift. If you die—"
"—Naomi gets to loot my corpse?" I offered.
"I was going to say we'd hunt down your ghost and demand it back, but that works too."
Naomi raised her hand. "Can I have the armor though? It's REALLY shiny and I want to study how the divine manifestation—"
"NAOMI," Zoe and Artemis said in unison.
"What?! I'm being PRACTICAL!"
Despite everything—the quest, the danger, the Quest waiting for me—I laughed.
Actually laughed.
"I'll try to return it intact," I said. "The bow, I mean. Not the armor. That's... technically part of me."
"Just don't DIE," Naomi said seriously. "Because then I'll be sad. And THEN I'll loot your corpse. In that order."
"Thanks. Very comforting."
"You're welcome!"
Zoe stepped forward. Her expression was serious. Worried.
"Don't die, fool," she said quietly.
Coming from Zoe—three thousand years old, immortal, had probably seen a thousand heroes march off to their deaths—that meant something.
"I'll try," I said. "I promise. I'll do my absolute best not to die."
She nodded once. Sharp. Final.
But her hand brushed my arm as I turned to go.
Just for a second.
A touch that said: Come back alive, you idiot.
The Departure
I walked to the edge of camp.
Turned back one last time.
Three figures silhouetted in moonlight. A goddess. A lieutenant. A cheerful Hunter who asked terrible questions.
They'd helped me. Healed me. Armed me. Believed in me when I didn't believe in myself.
"Hey Aditya?" Naomi called out.
"Yeah?"
"If you DO die—can I pleeaase have your armor? It's really shiny and I want to study the—"
"NAOMI," Zoe and Artemis said in unison.
"What?! I'm just being practical!"
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then I turned and walked into the darkness.
Toward the shore.
Toward Alcatraz.
Toward a fortress full of monsters and a quest that would probably kill me.
But this time, I had weapons. I had gear. I had Artemis's favor burning in my pocket.
And I had a promise to keep.
Don't die.
Come back alive.
Simple. Clear.
I could do that.
Probably.
Maybe.
The water was dark ahead. Alcatraz loomed in the distance.
I found a rowboat. Dragged it to the water's edge.
And started rowing towards it.
END CHAPTER 17