CHAPTER 002 ✷ Are The Kids Alright?
― Act One: Ship of Theseus

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Here's a thing about grief no one tells you about: you abandon the people you swear you would lose your mind over if you ever lost them. At least that's what Robin knew. It's a never-ending cycle of taking three steps back every time the person on the other side took one forward—wanting to show her how no man is an island and everyone needs someone.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It was something Robin had preached for years despite being closed off to the people she loved. It was doors shutting and rejection glaring every time someone told her to do something she didn't want to do, all in the name of companionship.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin grew up with friends. She spent all her years surrounded by company she knew would never sacrifice themselves for her and vice versa. They'd sacrifice their time to listen to her talk for hours on end but never fully absorb the information spewing out of her mouth because she was always too much in that aspect. It's the company that matters. It would always be the company that mattered when you're bleeding and your hands are too shaky to disinfect the burning wound.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Now that the harshness in her had doubled, she wanted nothing more than to shut the door in Will Solace's face because company didn't matter to her anymore. It just increases the anger she feels clawing inside her ribs.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Can I help you?" Robin's hand gripped the doorknob, knuckles turning white at the sight of blue eyes timidly staring at her with such a somber look in him. It's like he's grieving her in his head even when she was right there in front of him with a soul that was gone. "It's the middle of the night."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ There's hatred for her gods and there is still softness for their children. Robin can't bring herself to turn away from every demigod seeking her company to make themselves feel better for giving into the hunger they had. Standing beside her made them relinquish and bathe in the holiness of their own body they knew she didn't possess.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I heard what happened," his voice was gentle and it reminded her of every platonic lover who spoke to her in hushed tones and fondness. Those lovers are mostly gone now.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Come to reprimand me?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Will wants to be anything but reprimanding to her. He wants to hold her close and tell her he's sorry over and over again even if it was never his fault for all the bad things that happened in her life. I'm sorry. The apology wasn't perfect. Repeat. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Repeat. I'm sorry. Just know I love you. The communication goes silent on her end. The line goes dead.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Just know he loves her. Let her know there is another side. "What were you thinking?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin scrunched her eyebrows together, seemingly having no idea and being aware of what he was talking about at the same time. There is cluelessness and awareness of everything she pretends not to know. "What?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Not agreeing to go on the quest is stupid—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I've made myself clear, okay?" this is the part where she almost tells him to go away again. To leave her alone and worry about his own losses because she could hold up her own (he didn't come here to talk about that. Why was she so attached to the topic?).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No—" Will inhales sharply, eyes boring into hers, "You've made yourself clear but I didn't. You're going on that quest."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He decides for her, his voice so youthful but the tone was so hard against her ears that she cocked her head to the side, almost in amusement at what she was hearing coming from the fifteen-year-old.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Did you march all the way here just to say that?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He pursed his lips, taking in the sight of her standing before him with somber eyes and a frown to match the fury of her edges. Robin's face morphs into one of a shadow and a dream. She is a great void of nightmares and something in Will began to hurt. He believes there are ghosts haunting everybody but Will thinks the Holloway girl and him share the same wraith (she sees it in the mirror and he sees it in her).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Will felt his skin burning despite the cold. It's like he was closer to the shrouds of his friends even when the flames died months ago.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm not joking with you," he says. "You're going on that quest whether you like it or not."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin scoffed obnoxiously, hair blowing against the wind. "Okay, my mother reincarnated. I think you breathed in too many drugs and chemicals at the infirmary so I suggest you go back to Sunshine Cove and sleep it off."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He puts a palm on the door, stopping the harsh blow of the slamming door from hitting him. "You're not funny." he tells her again. "I'm not trying to joke around, Robin. I just want you to see reason."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "And what's the reason, sunny?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She doesn't really bother to wait for a response, already knowing she wouldn't listen anyway. Everything had always entered one ear and exited the other.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Have you not been listening to the prophecy? I thought the word 'Giants' would be enough for you to go scream your head off for a meeting."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Well, if you can tell—you probably couldn't with all the chemicals being snorted up your nose—but I had decided that that's not my problem anymore." she shrugged, hand now at the side of the door instead of the knob. There's sincerity in her eyes. "Call it a mid-year resolution if you will."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Mid-year resolution?" he repeated, exasperation written all over his sunkissed face even in this light. "I genuinely don't think 'giants' and 'not my problem' should ever be associated together. That's just insanity."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She cracked a small smile, her eyes squinting. "It's perfectly reasonable for me."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Will sighed, his frustration building up. "You can't just shut yourself off from the world."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Spare me the speech," something familiar crawls inside her. "I already said no. That's final."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Why?" Robin had lived for the thrill of it all until she didn't anymore. Just know I love you. There's something on the other side for you. "Why don't you want to go?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Because," she tries to slam the door again (Will expects it). "Gods, can't you just take a hint?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm not taking no for an answer."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Well, unlucky for you, I'm as stubborn as they come."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Familiar patterns resurface after breaking. Half a decade had passed but Luke's voice tells her to lend her heart for a voice of reason. She almost did until she remembered him in his ugliest form.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Please?" he pleaded.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You're like a dog with a bone, Will. Can't you understand? I. Don't. Want. To. Go." she grits her teeth, annoyance starting to build up from him nagging.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Well, maybe you need to start wanting to go!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Wow, Will! You just convinced me to go."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "That was sarcasm, wasn't it?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No shit. Get off my porch."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You wasted your whole life then," he tells her, a frown on his face as his voice threatens to crack at the unfamiliarity of his own words and the way he spoke to her. Will had been nothing but gentle and kind to Robin through the few years he was here.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ They stare at each other for a while, amber meeting blue and there is something unspoken in the air. It's suffocating, to say the least, barely giving room to breathe at the fact that grief is making a home inside the both of them. Will Solace had lost more than she ever did in the span of such a short time but that doesn't mean she didn't feel the same amount of grief inside of her for so long. She swears she's destined for the mourners and the funerals.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin's hand dropped from the edges of the door, shifting her weight from one foot to another. "I've seen enough of you come and go," she's referring to the people who had dedicated their lives to this world too. "Don't you think you've wasted your life too?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He inhaled, posture stiff with his head down. "I had a childhood. I haven't wasted my whole life yet."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He reminds her of how she grew up too fast. Will makes her remember how her childhood was nothing but a short blur until it started to focus on the gods and monsters.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "We all had terrible lives." Robin is sixteen and she can't recall the good parts of her life anymore. "We have terrible lives."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What choice is there but to keep going?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ There is no other version of her destiny. She is fated for the mourners and the funerals and everything in between. There is no other side for her. "Goodnight, Will."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It's the middle of the night and Will Solace stood in front of her, taller than she was now and all Robin could think about was how time had passed so fast. Will was so little when she met him. She was patient with him when it came to the questions and the curiosity he would throw her way, so eager to learn more about the ichor running through his veins but she never had the heart to answer him. Now, at fifteen, Will wants to unlearn everything that came with the blood he had and the people he knew along the way. Maybe he'd be less vulnerable in the face of his friend—he wants to treat her with the same patience she had with him but Will had wasted lifetimes throwing away chances he didn't take just because he was young and he thought he and the people around him had all the time in the world to catch up.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You know I'm right," he spoke up when Robin made the move to close the door. He caught glimpses of dark corners and beds made, mirrors covered to keep the ghost of her reflection away. She can't escape her brother. They shared the same features. "Think about it, please."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Don't be like me. Will almost tells her but it gets caught in his throat. He had forgotten Robin spent her solitude scrutinising every conversation she had and regretting the choices she made (she took all her chances, unlike him).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Go home," Robin softly says, watching the boy's confidence crumble and his vulnerability rise. "It's late. Kayla would be looking for you."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He thinks about his sister, waking up to another empty bed and not knowing where he is. She'd look for him just like how she woke up in the infirmary the day after the battle of Manhattan, wondering where each of her siblings was. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Think about it," he repeats, not letting the subject go. He remembers how she was brave and how she had cried. She dedicated her life to a cause. "This is a world you fought so hard to save last summer. Don't let the years you spent go to waste."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She shuts the door and turns the porch light on, still having the heart to not leave the son of Apollo in complete darkness. Robin was still his friend and it's the little things that matter anyway.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The Holloway girl peeked through the curtains of her window, watching his figure make his way back to a cabin that's almost empty before sitting down on her bed, eyes in and out of focus as she tried not to zone out too much in the moment of high contemplations. She curses Will in her head over and over again for making her second-guess her decision.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The room is agony incarnate. Robin tried to focus her consciousness on the faint ticking of the clock but it brought no sense of tranquility into her heart, just a deep fall of it when in an instant she slowly recalled how time had passed and it would keep passing with or without her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Robin Holloway. Robin, My Dear Child, why do you resist?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She pauses in her actions, looking up to look for the source yet already giving up at the first second.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Leave me alone." She doesn't wonder which god comes knocking anymore.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You've suffered so much, Robin Holloway. All that pain, all that loss. And for what?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Robin's love knows no bounds. Her father is buried in this world and it also harboured her brother.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Who are you?" she began to look around, head snapping in every direction to find the source of the voice until she felt a cold prickle down her back as the winter wind came rushing through the open window.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You could have peace, Robin. No more battles, no more pain. Just let go, and join me.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What are you?" there's a tremor in her tone, body rigid now that history is making a full circle.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎We could create a new world, a better world.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What's wrong with this one?" she knows the world is a terrible place filled with awful people but there are things in this life that make up for the mistreatment.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It laughed. The air was colder, frostbite already attempting to reach for her fingers even after she shut the window close.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎What isn't wrong? The voice asks her, pausing to wait for an answer. However, Robin knew when to keep her mouth shut.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She doesn't tell the voice how everything is wrong down to what she is feeling inside. Robin refuses to acknowledge the lump in her throat and the words that threaten to slip from her tongue, just wanting to discard the nostalgia that comes in the form of Luke (if she were to admit the flaws of what the world had, wouldn't it mean she was no better than the boy who rebelled?).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Time flies but everything always seemed to lead back to him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Each version of Luke Castellan dies over and over again through the years that pass until she reaches his final memory. This was how she remembered him. Robin can still feel the ghost of his past self reaching out to her for some sense of forgiveness but she was completely devoid of any human sympathy from where she stood with the gods with nothing but loyalty to something that is greater than what Luke chose to offer to her and to the friends that blindly followed him into the heart of the fire. Luke had fallen from his grace continuously through the years he was gone and multiple half-bloods joined him in the great fall, turning their backs to the only place that doesn't welcome blasphemy. Robin had never been one to worship divinity but she would never look past the sacrilege (she had people she loved on the other side of the war but the dagger would slice through their skin every time for betraying the one thing they knew).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She stays by the gods that know nothing but the pleasure of mortal company and the kids they left to die. To be human is to acknowledge all the abandoned highways while the divine hums the chaos of cars and crashes just to feel the vibration of what mortality gives. "Get out of my head."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Its laughter was more sinister than what Luke had sounded like. It reverberated in her mind a low, menacing sound that felt like it could split her skull.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You will come to me, willingly or not.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The gods leave her every time but Robin will fight their battles with scraped knees because she was raised right. It is loyalty she is congenital with and the malfunctioned wires in her head would never damage the devotion of the heart.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(Luke Castellan was nineteen when he asked the twelve-year-old to join him in the worshipping but she had taken a step back in fear of what he had become).

✹

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The McLean girl's insides are burning with solemnity. There is a kind of sickness that comes with forcefully swallowing a burden she doesn't want to give. Piper didn't know what to do but storm out of her cabin after Drew had put her on the pedestal. There is no Silena to make her feel better about being a spy for another enemy.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Silena had a choice to betray the people she had. Piper knows she will never get to that point. At least she thinks she doesn't. She tried not to think about it too much along her walk around camp, no destination in mind, just the desire to want to escape herself and those around her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She watches Camp Half-Blood slowly come alive, the pulse of morning thrumming through the air as she lingers outside a little longer. Piper saw campers already awake, groggily sitting on their porches while some were already swept up in the rhythm of their daily rituals—games of volleyball, shouts echoing in directions she couldn't pinpoint. Others are content to stretch out, faces turned upward to greet the gentle sun that casts a silver glow on the cold December mornings. She had noticed it camp wasn't as cold as it was in the outside world with the way her fingers didn't lose their mobility and her breath didn't form a mist every time she exhaled the heavy weight somewhere in her chest.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Still, her hands were in the pocket of her jacket, finding comfort in the warmth. It would've been a few minutes before Piper noticed the figure sat on the bench, overlooking the lake. The girl is being bathed by the morning sun. Her eyes were closed as if in silent communion with the burning light of Apollo's rays. She'd almost looked saintly if it wasn't for the way her lips curled into a frown, betraying the sense of contempt for the world around her. There was a hardness in her expression that made Piper hesitant to approach: something about her was cold and cynical, reminding her of the bad times when bullies would be all that she would endure just because they were happy to see someone fall at the effect of their doing.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Hi," Piper approached timidly. "I don't know if you know me yet but we're going on the same quest and my name's Piper."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The girl's eyes were the kind of gold only found in the deepest parts of the earth. Piper tried not to think about her and Jason's interaction last night except she couldn't get rid of the image of him cutting the jewel of nature delicately for her when her eyes alone were the incarnation of the celestial cradle of life. It would be sick to think of Jason, whose life had been stolen from him, trying to rediscover himself in her version of the molten core.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Robin." her voice is a lucid dream. It doesn't match the rigour of her visage nor does it harmonise the way she held herself.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Like the bird?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ There goes the lament that vibrates in her. Piper's memories bring her back to canopy beds and comic books held in her father's hands late at night and even through his exhaustion, he would sit with her until she fell asleep at the sound of his voice. She recalls that memory of being one of the last times he truly gave her his undivided attention.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What else is there to be named after?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Well, there's Robin Hood. . ." Piper trailed off, receiving a blank gaze. "The hero?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin's jaw was slightly clenched, and she had a vivid idea of what she was talking about. Her insides were bitter with knowing the outside world had changed through the years (there is a moment where she tries to remember her father's voice in the next room over, sharing his passion for comics with Theo until the reminder that his voice no longer had a place in her memory because they are years away from each other and she was too old to really recall what he sounded like).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm named after the bird."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ To be a hero is to know you were to die at the hands of someone else and not yourself. Her father is chained to the necrosis of his body but he wanted to give her the flight and never the cage. She was named for the purpose of freedom and never after the mortality of what Death could touch.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You decided to come after all?" Piper asks, easing into the conversation that began to sprout the roots of tension.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin shrugged, "I had nothing better to do,"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Weren't you so adamant last night?" Clashing of swords echoes from a distance, half-bloods already in the process of indoctrination. "You had a holy awakening?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I don't believe in that kind of stuff," she tells her, fallen strands of her braid dancing with the chilly air of Long Island Sound's December. "But if you call it that, then yeah, holy awakening it is."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I don't," Piper strays further away from the hands of humanity's loneliest creation. "It's not something I look for." Religion had never been what the girl was searching for but if there was a god and he was listening, she'd kneel at the altar of every saint to pray for her father.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Why look for it when you are part of one?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ There is a certain religion in every Greek myth. It starts with having faith for everything that comes knocking until you become the additional piece of sacrifice for a ritual that barged in to offer you to a religion they say you'd save.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She pauses, biting the inside of her cheek, not knowing if the pain she felt should bring relief or distress. "I don't think it has sunk into me yet."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It never really does," Storm of abstracts meets the gilded light.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She shuffled on her feet, dagger glistening by her waist. "How long have you been here?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Long enough to know you'd go crazy just to justify everything." She doesn't tell her it's been a decade of chasing the changed perspective of the sun. "Don't bother praying if that's what you're thinking to do."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I don't pray." Tristan McLean slips through her fingers like coins. Maybe this is divine punishment for whatever god Piper never prayed to.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Don't start now. They don't listen anyway."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Theo Holloway's ribcage is torn open and his insides are marked for sorrow. He was a mess of scattered prayers. Each syllable always dedicated to the mother he looked for but never got. Pray, pray, prey. Resentment carves its way to his already corroded bones when every prayer is left unanswered in his makeshift altar until he eventually stops devoting himself to a mother who only needed him when New York was no longer a metropolis but an orphan city that is barely able to love and hold its ego.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Did praying not work for you?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What's that supposed to mean?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It's. . ." she swallowed the lump in her throat, pulse amplifying with each second that passed. "It's just you seem like the type of person to pray."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin spent the first few years of her life in privilege. She didn't know anything about the suffering and the starvation that happens in the world outside of her bubble and she never really cared to pray for them because she never had anything to lose when she didn't. She was six when she learned of religions and her world shattered at the knowledge that there was something bigger than her father's love out there and it wasn't kindness; it was just endless faith and loyalty to something that doesn't reciprocate. She was six when she learned some things weren't bound to impermanence like everyone was.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Even through the years of losing that sheltered privilege and outlook on existence, she still didn't pray.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I never prayed." She could barely feel the ghost of his fingertips. "I don't believe in devoting yourself to something that isn't human."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "But if you were in a bad situation, would you pray to something out there just to say you tried to save this person?" The girl is wounded and young. She wants an excuse to genuflect herself to a sacrificial stone. Her father is still loved by her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "No." She had never prayed and Robin would never break the radio silence just because she was too desperate for the salvation of another. She knows her gods. "Anything that happens to a person is their fate and their fate alone. You can't change what's been written down."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Her little brother is made of corroded bones and his yarn no longer spins. The years of his praying did not save him in the end.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "So you'd just let them suffer?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin would talk them through the dying. She would not waste her breath to pray while the other was trying to catch theirs. The girl would ease the fear and tell them there is something for them on the other side. "Yes. That's mercy."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The Aphrodite girl inhales a sharp breath, crimsoned heart no longer in her hand but somewhere in her stomach, being burnt with the acidic components of the bile that threatens to spill. "How is that mercy?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "How do you define mercy?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Mercy is the knife descending and the love that transcends into the next. Everything that had suffered will meet the clemency in their moment of damnation. Life doesn't promise anything but the theory that when mercy prevails, kindness after your end is what it would offer to you.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ There is something for you after the bleeding. There would always be something mellow on the other side.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "The opposite of giving up on someone,"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She doesn't understand that dying is the cruelest and the most humane kind of mercy there is for people like them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Compassion won't save you here, Piper."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Neither will that perspective."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She has had enough time to witness her own transformation. On her trajectory to reach the greatest of what her mother expected from her, Robin needed to adapt.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm still here, aren't I?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It wasn't about the colour of the rosary or how big the cross was. It wasn't even about how big of a portion of food you burn to be desperately heard. The fates will cut your string and the number of times you prayed will not be counted when you cross the river Styx and into the court of your judgment that determines what kind of hero you had been.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The life you live will not matter whether you pray or not. Underworld or hell, whatever you had believed in, will not care whether you worshipped enough. It'll always be about what you have done with your life. The prayers will rot in the end.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Piper believed in something even when she denied her faith. She had dug up the harsh reality of what the world was and she didn't like what she found.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Forget it," she buries the discovery of what Robin believes in and tries to walk away from the doe eyes that believed in herself entirely.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It wasn't the answer you were hoping for, was it?" Robin asks, adjusting herself in her seat. "Is that secret you hold really worth a prayer?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A shiver runs down her spine, heart beating loudly against her ears and Piper wonders how she knows just by barely being in her company.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What are you talking about?" she spat, uncomfortable with the corner of Robin's lips ghostly tugged to fit a smile that stirred something inside the McLean girl's burning residual anger for the Tanaka girl and transferred it over to the brunette girl.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Your heartbeat is abnormal," Robin cocked her head like she was listening to an out-of-beat rhythm. "What are you hiding, Katoptris?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Piper's hand instinctively went for the hilt of the dagger just at the mention of it. Her heart drops at the situation that escalates quickly. She had ignored the whispers of her half-siblings last night, each of them swearing there was something about the Holloway girl that was tainted with the augment of her heritage. The girl was a living razor edge. Piper couldn't see it before but the glint in Robin's eyes tells her she exposed herself to her the moment she approached.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Hands clammy at the realisation of being seen and scrutinised under another person's perspective maddens Piper. Robin's senses were heightened to feel her vulnerability and to see through the superficiality of what she was made of. It was borderline invasive.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm not hiding anything." Piper's right hand found the strap of her bag, knuckles white at the grip. "Stay out of it."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Robin watched the girl walk away, her anger lingering in the spot where she stood. The annoyance in the Holloway girl is displayed on her face for everyone to see yet campers no longer bother to say anything just because it is just another day for them (she wishes for the passing days to be just another day but the grief seems to catch up anytime she slows down). In spite of the avoidance of the people walking past her, the son of Athena approaches, bringing the warmth of his company with him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her anger fades and the expression cracks, calm jubilation settling in at the sight of him blissfully young and alive.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ There is hatred for her gods and there is still softness for their children.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What was that about?" Malcolm sat, an arm lazily resting behind her, soaking up the sun as he leaned back with contentment. "It's like you stepped on her teddy bear and called it ugly just by the look on her face."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin's eyes still lingered on Piper's figure walking to the fields.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It's nothing." She glanced at him, shrugging carelessly, already forgetting how she upset the girl. "She just wanted to introduce herself."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "So you scared her off?" Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you just charming?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "They say it's my best quality."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "It's a decent quality. You're too generous to yourself."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He lets out a small chuckle at his own words, palms covering his eyes. Robin sneered, recoiling from the boy (why was he so lame?).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Gods, you're disgusting," She tells him, nose crinkling. "All those books and you have yet to form good jokes."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He giggles. "I'm dyste. . .dylesci—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Dyslexic!" Robin hissed, hitting him in the back of the head. "You're honestly so dumb."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He huffed, sitting straight. "If you're so smart then spell it out!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Di. . .Dislek—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"See, you can't even spell it!" Malcolm cuts her off. "All that talk and you're still illiterate."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm dyslexic!" She retorted, crossing her arms.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎His company mattered even when they sat in silence, staring off into the water. Robin can feel the cycle of her sadness returning to her, frowning at the people moving along with the axis of the earth and knowing Malcolm was one of them. He was already clean from the tainting of chapped lips and blue eyes that came in the form of her best friend. He is sober and off his knees while she breathes in the smoke of her own burning (inhale, exhale, repeat until lungs are black and you are dying of another disease because grief won't kill you).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Do you ever hear voices?" She doesn't elaborate, avoiding the stare he sends her way.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Like your inner voice or. . ." he trails off, confused at the question. He eyes the way she cracks her knuckles at each passing second while waiting for an answer.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Something else, I guess."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Well, no." Malcolm turns his head to look at her, fingers playing with the ends of her hair while dread creeps up behind him. "What does it say to you?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She shook her head. Robin tells him it's nothing to worry about but he argues for once in his life.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You talked to Chiron?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I don't want him to worry." the girl shifts. "It's what he's been doing these past few months with me."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He lets go of her hair. "He'll always worry."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She was six when she arrived at camp with a brother whose anger turns everything to ash through the years that go by. There is loneliness in her that had looked for a father's love in every corner of a place that is tainted with abandonment. Robin Holloway knew abandonment through loss, and who to seek solace to if not with the trainer of dead heroes?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I'm older now. I can handle myself."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Robin slips through Chiron's fingers like all the demigods long before her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"It doesn't work like that."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He doesn't understand how parental love works anymore but he can still remember his father's soft hands caressing his cheek while he was sick of the flu at nine. Malcolm acknowledges that fevers and ages are two different things with the same effect: worry.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎He lets his eyes linger to her, taking in the sight of her grieving the void. They stayed like that for a few minutes, just breathing in the same loneliness that both of them handled differently.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Where are you off to anyway, Rob?" The lake glistens in front of them and the shadows dance in his ever-changing hues of a stormy sky for eyes."I don't think Maine is good this time of the year."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Don't call me Rob," She snapped, heartstrings tugging at the mention of her hometown. There's sadness and wonder in her when she thinks of what Maine would look like now. "I'm going on that stupid quest."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He grinned, flashing her a perfect smile. It's like he lost nothing at all. Robin's face almost fell at how he acted. She felt crazy for feeling the way she felt but she'd never admit that.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "What changed your mind?" he asked, a small reminiscent twinkle in his eyes when he spotted the raindrop keychain on her backpack.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Cabin Seven knocked and gave me a promo for their tanning bed." Robin avoided the root of her changed decision. "Says they'll let me use it if I come back in one piece. What a deal, huh?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Malcolm entertained her mechanism, already knowing Will had talked to her. "That's so unfair," he huffed. "Pretty sure they overcharged me when I used it."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The Apollo cabin did not have a tanning bed.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I just don't think they like ass-kissers,"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He laughed. "I told you to leave the attitude behind—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The conch horn blew from a distance, both demigods' hearts racing at the sound. It took the blond a moment before running in the direction of where Piper went, his friend already a hundred yards away. Robin's natural instinct triggered her legs to move before her mind could process what was going on. She was hardwired for war. There is no letting go of the soldier in her.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She'd like to think she had escaped the shackles of anything that had to do with war but Robin sometimes forgets she was made for the glory, the blood, and everything in between. She had to stop herself from being sent back to the battle of Manhattan in her mind when the camp alarm kept blaring, each sound leaving her flinching when it kept getting louder in her head. Her hearing was all over the place—she could hear yelling, hearts racing, and every footstep slamming onto the ground.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She was regretting leaving the haunting solitude of her cabin.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The girl heard Malcolm call her name from behind, instructing her to slow down but she didn't until she reached the crowd of archers and soldiers hesitantly stepping back from a machine in the middle of the field. Robin paused just a few feet away from the blockage with Malcolm running into her, his mouth agape at the sight.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin pushed through the crowd harshly, hearing Malcolm whisper small apologies to the ones she pushed. She almost rolled her eyes.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ In the centre of the commotion stood Leo with a crazed glint in his brown eyes, smiling wide and proud with a machine, which had been wandering the woods, behind him, tamed.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The machine—dragon—twitched. Its head tilted to one side to pour out a stream of black liquid all over the elfish boy. Her nose twitched, catching a scent of Tabasco sauce coming from Leo.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Just a few kinks to work out," Leo shrugged, hands waving off the concern and wander in Nyssa. "No big deal."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "But how did you survive?" Nyssa was still staring at the creature in awe. She has the passion Robin had before. "I mean, the fire breath. . ."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I'm quick," Leo said. "And lucky. Now, am I on this quest, or what?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin heard his heart skip a beat, burying his secrets in each valve of his heart.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Jason scratched his head, content filling the gaps in his mind. "You named him Festus? You know that in Latin, 'festus' means 'happy'? You want us to ride off to save the world on Happy the Dragon?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She watches the dragon shudder and flap his wings. The sound of it echoes in her ears, bringing the sense of flinching to the surface of her body. Jason cast her a small glance when he noticed finally noticed her amongst the crowd. Annabeth's brother wraps a hand around her arm, turning her body to take a look at her with concern flooding in his face.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ There is a certain familiarity everyone had with each other everywhere and his insides ache at the thought of a home he can't recall. There is warm familiarity in every corner he turns but none of it was for Jason.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "That's a yes, bro!" Leo translates for Festus. "Now, um, I'd really suggest we get going, guys. I already picked up some supplies in the—um, in the woods. And all these people with weapons are making Festus nervous."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Jason's unsure,  hesitating to agree. "But we haven't planned anything yet. We can't just—"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "Go," There had been better times for Annabeth. It's hundreds of days away but there is still nostalgia for a time she can still remember all too well. The blonde reminds them of the winter solstice. It's a good omen, she says. Annabeth was someone made of sunkissed afternoons where hope dangles on the horizon of the setting sun.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She turns to her, wistful in all her glory. "Be a little softer to them, yeah?" Annabeth holds her childhood in her arms delicately. She reminisces about the fallen teeth of their nonages and the shared scraped knees of practices they lived through together. The blonde wraps her arm around Robin a little bit tighter to hold her closer to the fondness of her heart when the brunette fails to reciprocate. "Don't terrorise them, Robin."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's the little things that matter and that is where Robin draws the line between affection and clarity. This was how she loved. Just three steps away from the people that matters most to her—not to push them away but to have them at arm's length.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Would it be too late to say no again?" She whispers to her. "I refuse to get on that thing."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Annabeth flicked her forehead. "You've got a goddess to save, Holloway. Not to mention the kids you probably need to babysit."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Who willingly wants to save Hera?" Annabeth's head gestured to the son of Zeus. "Ah yes, desperate times call for desperate measures."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"You're not going to fall off. I promise." The blonde pushed her gently toward the direction of the dragon. "Now go!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Before she leaves, she is stopped again and held by the blond brother of the girl. He holds her close to him, endlessly giving her the chaste of the love he dedicates to her. He tells her to not get herself killed and not to get angry when something doesn't go her way. Malcolm says there were always better things to talk about other than the anger. He kisses the crown of her head and watches her go.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She looks back her shoulders, mouthing the words 'find Will' to the boy and Malcolm nods, understanding what she wants him to say to the son of Apollo.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Robin Holloway can still feel the fire and the aching bones when Jason offers his hand to take, her almost recoiling at the reaching of his palm made of good intentions. She is shaking fists when his hand wraps around hers, pulling her up from the ground. He feigns ignorance to the shaking. She positions herself in front of Piper and Jason, them having no choice but to make space for the adamant girl who withers at the proximity of their bodies but it doesn't amount to the fear she has of open skies and being closer to the fall if she were to sit behind the amnesiac (he goes first if they ever fall).

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She chased it all, just not the sky Atlas held.