Chapter Text
1. THE PARTY FIGHT A HORDE OF HARPIES
The sky burns a bright, clear blue as far as the eye can see. The sun, unhindered by the lack of clouds, stretches its rays all across Long Island Sound. The gentle breeze in the air carries the hint of strawberries, and in the distance, campers cheer and shout as they watch a canoe race unfold out on the lake.
Will, however, doesn’t notice any of it, his focus wholly directed at the boy sitting across from him. A binder stands in front of his face, almost blocking Will’s view of the dark curls that come to rest right above his shoulders. His dark, brown eyes and the lilt of a smile taunt him and their friends from across the picnic table, holding them all in suspense.
“Something’s coming. Something hungry for blood. A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness. It is almost here,” he says. He looks at Will and their friends with wide eyes, as if he’s equally as shocked by this development. As if he’s not the one responsible for whatever terrible monster is about to be thrown their way.
“What is it?” Will asks. He sits up straighter in anticipation, fingernails digging into the rotting grain of the picnic table.
From his left, his friend, Dustin, stops shuffling through the deck of holographic cards in his hand. “What if it’s the Gorgon Sisters?” he groans. “Oh, Jesus, we’re so screwed if it’s the Gorgons.”
Another voice pipes up from Will’s right, pen clinking against the table. “It’s not the Gorgons,” Lucas scoffs.
All three of them turn their direction back to the boy half-hidden behind the binder, waiting with bated breath. The boy watches them all with a smirk, his eyes brighter than the glow of Apollo’s sun looming over them.
Not everyone is lucky enough to see this side of him, Will muses. Most people know him as Nancy’s younger brother, or the guy dating Zeus’s daughter, or even as that bossy junior counselor from the Athena cabin. But no one except the three of them get to see him like this…as Mike. A brave paladin. A clever storyteller. The leader of their Mythomagic campaigns. Of all the versions of him there are, this Mike might just be Will’s favorite.
Suddenly, an arm reaches out from behind the Mythomagic binder, slamming a silver figurine onto the center of the table. The force knocks a few of Will’s trading cards out of formation. “An army of harpies charge into the chamber!” Mike exclaims.
“Harpies?” Dustin laughs, a disbelieving raise of his eyebrows.
Lucas grins. “Told ya.”
But Will doesn’t let his guard down, eyes still pressing in on Mike, his hands fiddling with something behind the binder. If nine years of friendship are anything to go by, he knows Mike definitely has something else up his sleeve.
As if on cue, Mike lets out a quiet gasp. “Wait a minute. Did you hear that?” They all glance around, as if the imaginary noise will materialize in front of them. “That…that sound. Boom…boom…boom!” Will’s heart leaps into his throat, leaning forward as Mike continues. “That didn’t come from the harpies, no, that came from something else.” After a lengthy pause, his hand jumps out from behind the binder, and he slams another metal figure onto the table, a set of three, snake-like monsters glinting back at them. “The Gorgons!”
Dustin leans back and groans, a hand scrubbing across his face that nearly knocks his ever-present baseball cap askew. “We’re in deep shit.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Will sees a flash of red hair, and a moment later, their friend, Max, plops down in the space next to Lucas. “What’s up, losers?”
Mike rolls his eyes. His hands tighten around the Mythomagic binder, as if she’s going to try and peek ahead at whatever secret adventures he has planned for them. “What do you want, Max? We’re right in the middle of our campaign.”
“You guys are still playing this shit?” Max questions. She picks up a card from Lucas’s deck before tossing it back with disinterest. “Why not just, like, go to the woods and fight an actual monster? With the actual demigod training you have?”
“Well, when you put it like that…,” Dustin huffs, crossing his arms.
Lucas frowns. “Come on, Max, you don’t have to make it sound so lame.”
“I’m not. It just is lame,” Max smirks.
Will turns his attention back to Mike. He can see the way his shoulders are slumped over, eyes hardened and mouth twisted into a scowl. “Well, with our normal training, there’s no story behind it. And this makes it feel more like a quest! Right, Mike?” He should know; after all, Mike’s the only one at the table that’s ever been on one.
“Yeah, exactly,” Mike says, sitting up straighter. “I mean, we can train all we want, but this…this is practically the real thing! Instead of physical training, we’re preparing strategies, testing out different attack styles…it’s not just about the fastest way to kill your opponent, zoomer.”
Max rolls her eyes, leaning in closer to Lucas’s side. “Whatever, owl head. El agrees with me, anyway. Right, El?”
Will glances behind him to see El walking toward their group, a small smile gracing her delicate features. Being a daughter of Zeus, most people assume she’d look meaner or more intimidating. There’d been a few times, when she’d first come to camp, that she’d been mistaken as a child of Demeter or Aphrodite. But whenever she has that steely concentration in her eye, hand outstretched to summon a bolt of lightning, Will knows there’s no mistaking who her godly parent is.
El squeezes in between Dustin and Mike, resting her hand on top of the latter’s. Will turns away, pretending to analyze the stats on his Apollo card. Each of them had their own godly parent in their arsenal for Mythomagic games, meant to simulate how their own powers would manifest in a battle, but in Will’s case, it’s just an educated guess.
The thing is, Will hasn’t exactly been claimed by Apollo. Or any god, to be exact. But Apollo is the one that makes the most sense, considering the circumstances. The circumstances being the fact that his older brother, Jonathan, had been claimed by Apollo four years ago.
Looking at Jonathan, he’s the complete opposite of what everyone expects from an Apollo kid. Instead of sun-kissed skin and golden, tousled curls, Jonathan is pale with brooding eyes and a choppy haircut. While he’s not bad with a bow and arrow and he’s an adequate healer, his strengths most definitely lie with music and art. And if Apollo had to choose any of his children to represent his status as a patron of the arts, it’d be Jonathan. Between his exploration of music genres and his love of photography and film, Will has yet to find another child of Apollo as passionate about art as Jonathan. Well, that is, except for maybe Will himself.
He still remembers the moment it happened. He was about twelve at the time; Jonathan had been taking pictures with his old camera he’d brought from home, and Will had been more than happy to tag along with his older brother. Jonathan had shown him the most scenic places at camp, the kind Will hadn’t taken notice of before. It was as Jonathan snapped the perfect angle of the water spirits, wading in the edge of the canoe lake, that a bright burst of light appeared above his head: a shining, golden lyre. As happy as Will had been for him, he hadn’t been able to shake the pit in his stomach that had him wondering why he hadn’t also been claimed. For months, he tore through parchment and canvas, thinking that if he created the perfect drawing or painting that Apollo might finally view him as worthy enough. But for whatever reason the gods may have, Jonathan moved into the Apollo cabin while Will stayed behind, remaining undetermined in the Hermes cabin.
“What is it I am supposed to be agreeing on?” El asks, giving a raise of her eyebrows.
“That Mythomagic is a total waste of time and not at all like real battle training,” Max explains, gesturing to the array of dice and collection of cards splayed out on the table, as if that in itself is supposed to emphasize how ridiculous the whole thing is.
“That’s so not true. You agree with me, right, El?” Mike says, imploring at her with those wide, brown eyes.
If Will were in her shoes, he probably would have said yes, regardless of what Mike had asked, if it meant that he’d keep looking at him like that.
Maybe it’s better for everyone that that is not the case.
“Oh. Uh. I think…,” El pauses, glancing around the table. “Sorry, Mike…I do not see how this is helpful in a real-life battle. Is it not a game for kids?”
Mike’s eyes find Will across the table, hand sliding away from El. “It’s more than that!” he huffs. “It’s—”
“Ugh, whatever, Wheeler,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “I promise I didn’t come over here just to make fun of your nerdy game. It’s almost dinner time, and I want to make sure Will and I get an actual seat this time.”
Will shoots Mike an apologetic look from across the table, and he sighs, giving a resigned nod. “Fine. We’ll finish later. But just so you know, this is totally going to ruin the flow of our campaign.”
“Sorry, can’t hear you! Dinner bell!” Max announces, dragging Lucas out of his seat and towards the dining pavilion.
“Did I just get sudden onset hearing loss? Or was there no dinner bell?” Dustin jokes, collecting his cards off the table. He shuffles them back into his Mythomagic deck, which he hands back to Mike for safe-keeping.
El lets out a giggle. As she and Dustin move to help clean up the rest of their mess, Mike shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it.” He shoos them away with his hand. “You guys go ahead. And El, make sure to give your dad his blessings for me.”
The last part is a joke Mike likes to make; he’s only met Zeus one time many years ago, but the god made it clear that he hates Mike. And despite being the most powerful god in Olympus, Mike seems to have no qualms about invoking his name for the sake of a wisecrack.
“Wow, what does that make Hephaestus, then, chopped liver?” Dustin asks.
Mike scoops the colorful dice and figures off the table before dropping them into a small, drawstring bag. “No, you can send my love to him, too. But ask him if he can help you forge better armor. I can’t believe those sirens almost eliminated all your hit points.”
They give each other a playful shove before Dustin sets off toward the outdoor dining hall. El only makes it a few steps in the grass before she turns around, lingering in her step. “Are you sure you do not want me to wait?”
Mike spares her a quick smile, busying his hands with collecting their pens and character sheets. “Nah, me and Will can take care of it. I’ll see you at campfire, yeah?”
She smiles back, but it doesn’t quite seem to reach her eyes as she faces forward and begins to walk in the direction of their friends.
Will is the first to break the silence as he and Mike shuffle the rest of their belongings into their backpacks. “It was a great campaign, Mike. Seriously. Don’t listen to the others.” He steals a glance at him, his freckles illuminated by the golden light of the fading afternoon.
He shrugs half-heartedly, gaze focused on zipping up his backpack. “I don’t know. With the war and everything that’s going on…maybe it is stupid to keep playing. I mean, Max and El are right. We’re not little kids anymore. That’s going to be us on the front lines, fighting Titans and monsters. Real ones.” He slings his backpack across his shoulders, and Will follows suit as they begin their slow path to the dining pavilion.
“Just because we’re not physically fighting any monsters in our Mythomagic campaigns, it doesn’t mean it’s not preparing us in other ways,” Will says. “I mean, no battles in real-life would work without people strategizing and considering all the potential variables, right?”
Mike gives a reluctant nod, eyes barely catching his as he does, but it’s enough to accidentally make Will sidestep right into Mike, their bodies brushing together. “Yeah, I guess not,” he agrees.
“Plus, you’re an Athena kid, anyway, so you’re practically destined to be a total nerd—”
“Hey!” Mike exclaims, a surprised laugh escaping his lips. Now he’s the one bumping into Will, and he can feel every point where they connect: shoulder, elbow, hip, thigh. “As if you’re not every bit of a nerd as me.”
“Hm…nope, not possible,” Will grins, and Mike does, too, his face just as full of light as it’d been right before their campaign had been interrupted. He hates whenever Mike gets upset or discouraged, but secretly, Will would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a surge of warmth whenever he’s the one that’s able to bring him right back before he teeters off the edge.
They reach the border of the dining pavilion, where campers bustle around to get seated with the rest of their cabin. Some tables are emptier than others—like El’s, for example, considering she’s the only known child of Zeus—but the fullest one is, of course, the Hermes table. Hermes, being the patron god of travellers and hospitality, sponsors any and all demigods that haven’t been claimed by their godly parent. Meaning that a cabin meant for twelve is double the size of most other cabins. Will must have taken too long talking with Mike; all of the spots at the Hermes table are taken, his cabinmates squeezed into every possible crevice, and not for the first time, Will knows he’s going to have to become reacquainted with the floor.
“Ugh, I don’t understand why you don’t just sit with me,” Mike groans. This is also not their first time having this conversation, but every time, Mike seems to forget the logic of it in favor of his own feelings at the moment.
Will bumps into him with his shoulder. “Come on, you know it’s against the rules to sit with a different cabin.”
“So? That doesn’t make it fair,” Mike retorts, his nose wrinkling at the very thought.
He shrugs in response. To be honest, he’s kind of gotten used to it, but he knows if he voiced that aloud, Mike would try to find even more reasons to convince him. “Hey, it’s not that bad. I got half a seat at breakfast!” he jokes.
Mike doesn’t find it funny, though, the crease in his eyebrows deepening. “Will, seriously, no one’s gonna say anything. Just sit with me, okay?”
Will’s not sure why he even bothers when this conversation always ends the same way, but that doesn’t mean he finds it any less endearing. Occasionally, he’ll let his mind fantasize about finally saying yes to sitting with Mike and his many siblings in the Athena cabin. He’ll think about how he’d trade his grapes for Mike’s strawberries because he knows Mike prefers them. How they’d probably be sitting so close that their knees would brush under the table, elbows knocking into each other as they trade stories and jokes.
But then…that surge of guilt sinks into his stomach, widening like a gaping, black hole, as he thinks about El, sitting by herself at cabin one’s table, and any hint of that fantasy burrows itself deep into the recesses of his heart. He knows how lonely she gets sitting by herself, even if she’d never admit it, and he couldn’t do that to her. It would be cruel for him to break the rules only to sit with Mike instead. As if he hasn’t already taken enough from them both.
He shakes his head, determined as he sets his sights on his spot on the cobblestone floor. “You better go find a seat. Before the wood nymphs skip you again.”
“I swear, they have a vendetta against me!” Mike huffs, but he turns, giving him one last glance before he wedges himself into a seat between Nancy and Holly.
Will moves to sit next to the Hermes table, settling in a spot behind where Max is squeezed in next to her siblings. Unlike Will, Max is not undetermined; she’s a Hermes kid through and through, down to that mischievous glint in her eye, her natural gift of perception, and her knack for bending the truth.
As Will settles on the cold, bumpy floor, Max swings a leg out towards Will, nearly kicking him in the face. She passes him a plate of barbecue, bread, cheese, and grapes, along with an empty chalice. Silently, he wishes for it to fill with 7Up, and the clear liquid bubbles up into the goblet. “I stole that from the nymphs when they weren’t looking, so eat up,” she says, giving him a wink. “Oh, and don’t forget to give your offering.”
Will nods appreciatively, his frown digging into his chin as he searches his plate for the best offering. He chooses the ripest clump of grapes on his plate before standing up and walking to the fire in the center of the pavilion. This is always his least favorite part of every meal. While most campers have a godly parent to dedicate their offering to, all Will has is a desperate hope. He tosses the grapes into the fire, the fragrance of maple syrup and wildflowers and, oddly enough, rainbow Skittles blending in with the rise of the smoke. Apollo, he thinks. Then, he adds, Someone. Anyone. Please, just tell me who I am.
As he walks back to his spot on the floor, he catches Jonathan’s eye at the Apollo table. His mouth tilts up into a smile when he sees Will, lifting a hand in greeting, and Will waves back. It’s weird how little he gets to see his brother sometimes despite the fact that they’re both year-rounders at camp. With Jonathan being the oldest of the other Apollo children, he’d stumbled his way into being the head of the Apollo cabin, much to his own dismay. He prefers to stick to the shadows and behind the scenes, but Will knows he needs to give himself more credit. He’s great with the other campers, especially the younger ones, and not for the first time, Will finds himself jealous that he’s not sitting amongst them.
Dinner comes and goes with the usual fanfare, and afterwards, they find themselves in combat training. Of their party, they all have their own strengths. El is a wonder with her lightning-laced spear. Lucas is probably the most skilled marksman of all, particularly with his bow and arrow (and being a son of Nike, goddess of victory, ensures he doesn’t give up without a strong fight). Max is quick on her feet, able to use a knife to close in on any opponent and kill them with a fatal blow. Mike, as gangly and awkward as he looks, isn’t the best at unarmed combat, but he reigns above them all in swordsmanship. Dustin does best with his various gadgets and weapons he builds to distract the enemy, along with the armor he uses for defense.
As for Will? Almost as if he’s a true son of Hermes, it doesn’t feel like he has any particular strength. A jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none. Not for the first time, he feels like a true nobody in comparison to his friends, all of whom seem to be so sure of themselves and their destinies. Even though he knows this isn’t the case. He just wishes he had a godly parent that could at least give him some direction on who he’s supposed to be.
After their training is the nightly campfire, led by the Apollo cabin. Jonathan plays guitar as the other Apollo kids lead them in song and roasting marshmallows for s’mores. He watches with stifled laughs as Max and Dustin get into an argument about what kind of marshmallow is best: golden brown versus charred black, and more than just the warmth of the fire nestles to make a home into his chest. As much as he struggles with being a demigod sometimes, especially the kind of demigod that is considered more different than the others, he really does love this place and all that it holds.
A part of him just wishes that, for once, this world of his would return the favor.