I paused for a second, unsure if I should stay and help Alyx, or follow her advice and get the heck outta there. She was locked in a furious hand-to-hand battle with Raymond, giving as good as she got, parrying and thrusting with wild abandon. Her face was set in a huge grin as she fought, which was clearly freaking Raymond out a little bit as he tried to gain the upper hand.

But I had my own problems. The guy coming at me was a head taller than me, and about twice as big, reaching the point where his muscles were starting to build muscle of their own. He grinned at me, revealing a set of crooked teeth, stained yellow, probably because his favourite meal was raw meat on a stick. He held a long sword loosely in his right hand, but it was clear that he knew how to use it.

I glanced down at my own sword, which in comparison looked like an oversized tooth-pick. I had about as much chance of beating this guy in a sword fight as I did of winning an Olympic gold medal in cross-country skiing.

Live to fight another day, I guess. Peace out.

I turned and ran headlong into the forest, branches whipping past my face as I scrambled to find some safety in the darkness. Heroic? No. But I've never claimed to be one. In my book, anyone who willingly goes into a fight that they know they're going to lose is a moron.

I had absolutely no idea where I was going, but I could hear my pursuer cursing and cutting at the undergrowth with his sword as he came after me, and that was scary enough to force me to keep running. If he ever caught me, he'd demolish me as fast as a chocolate protein shake.

One thing I will say for being scrawny: you can wriggle through tough terrain much more easily. I hopped over fallen logs, and scrambled through dense patches of trees and bush pretty quickly, while my pursuer had all of the grace of a rampaging elephant, attempting to simply force his way through anything standing in his way. Surprisingly, trying to cut through an entire forest was slow going. Before long, the sounds of his blade hitting wood, frustrated grunts and calls of, 'Come back here so I can kill you!' faded into the night air, leaving nothing but crickets and the flap of wings overhead as the nocturnal wild-life decided to get out of bed.

All of a sudden, I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I was being watched.

I turned around quickly, afraid that the blue team camper who'd been chasing me had somehow managed to double back and sneak up on me. I took in my surroundings, trying to find the source of my unease. Then I saw him.

In a small grove, clear of trees, a guy I'd never seen before sat on a boulder, as if he'd been there for ages, waiting for me. Which was clearly impossible, because no-one could have predicted I'd end up here, in the middle of nowhere, far away from the action.

He was young, maybe early twenties, and aggressively good-looking. He wore the same style of Greek armour that everyone had donned for tonight's game, so I assumed he was a camper who I just hadn't met yet. He didn't have a helmet though, so I couldn't tell if he was my enemy, or if we allies.

The weirdest thing about him was his hairstyle. At the front, his blond hair flowed in long, almost girlish locks that draped over his face. But at the back, his head was completely bald. Still, I'd seen guys at my school sport even crazier haircuts, so I gave him a pass.

He was watching me, and there was something about his gaze that unnerved me.

I'd ditched my shield somewhere in the woods, but I still had my sword, and I drew it out of its sheath, the metal sliding out with a faint hisss.

The guy laughed.

'Now, now. There's no need for that, Castor. I mean you no harm.'

I made no move to put my sword away. It made me feel a bit better to be holding a weapon, even though I knew that if it came to a fight, the sword would be about as much use to me as a chopstick.

'Who are you?' I asked, surprising myself at how steady my voice was. 'What team are you on?'

The guy seemed to find that last question very amusing, laughing quietly to himself.

'What team am I on?' he repeated, pondering the question. 'Well, I guess I'm on my own team, when it comes down to it. But I'm also on yours, Castor. So put the sword down, and we can talk.'

There was a pause, as we both looked at each other, and then I reluctantly put the sword back in its sheath. The guy smiled.

'Good' he said, happily. 'Trust is the foundation of any relationship, don't you think?'

'You didn't answer my first question' I replied, not moving any closer. 'Who are you? You don't seem like a camper.'

He regarded me for a second, his blue eyes dancing with amusement.

'Names are powerful things, Castor' he said after a moment, as if that answered my question. It didn't.

'I'm not a big fan of talking in riddles' I told him. 'And I'm sick of people choosing to keep me in the dark. Why can't anyone round here answer a simple question, without trying to depart some Yoda-like wisdom?'

The guy frowned, his perfect features crinkling up for a second.

'I don't know who this 'Yoda' is' he said. Clearly not a big Star Wars fan then. 'But I hear you, Castor. I know you want answers. You've been left with only questions for too long. It won't do. So I'm here, despite being told to stay away.'

'Who told you to stay away?' I asked. 'And how do you know my name?'

'Oh, I know everything about you, Castor. I know that in third-grade you punctured Danny Letterman's basketball, but then let Liam O'Neil take the blame.'

Woah. How does he know that?

'I know that before your victory over the Mormolyceia a few days ago, you'd only ever been in one fight, and that was with a girl a year younger than you, and you lost.'

'OK, yeah, but she was big for her age.'

The guy ignored me, talking over me.

'And I know that your mother, Kate Orr, is one of the most beautiful, intelligent, quick-witted, and caring mortals I have ever known.'

My breath caught in my throat.

'You say mortal like you're not one' I said slowly, something finally dawning on me.

He smiled at me, his face kind.

'Castor, I am Caerus, youngest divine son of Zeus, god of opportunity and luck. And I am your father.'

My breath came back to me in a rush, and I gasped loudly, almost losing my balance and toppling over.

Caerus hopped off his rock and came over, placing his hand on my shoulder.

'I know it is a lot to take in all at once. Give yourself some time to adjust.'

I knocked his hand off my shoulder. Now that the shock had worn off, I remembered all of the pent-up feelings I had towards this father who I'd never met.

'Where were you?' I asked, my voice rising, anger beginning to seep in. 'You left Mom. You left me. Fifteen years, and not a single word. And now you just show up out of thin air? What's wrong with you?'

Caerus' voice was pained.

'There are rules, Castor. Rules that not even I could break. It wasn't my decision to leave you. I had no choice.'

'Sounds exactly like the kind of excuse every dead-beat dad comes up with' I sneered. 'Nice try. But I'm not buying it.'

'Castor-' Caerus began, but I cut him off.

'Well, it was so nice of you to pop in and see how I'm doing' I said, my voice hard-edged with sarcasm. 'I've nearly been killed multiple times in the last few days, I just found out that the Greek gods and exist and that one of them is my dad, and now I'm just off to probably get stabbed in the neck with a javelin. But apart from that, I'm doing great, thanks for asking.'

Caerus was giving me a look. To my annoyance, he seemed to still be finding the whole situation pretty funny.

'You are just like your mother' he told me. 'And like me too, come to that. Feisty, cutting, a free spirit, unwilling to be told what to do, preferring instead to go it alone. These are powerful traits, Castor. Don't underestimate them.'

I was so confused, that for once in my life I didn't know what to say. I looked at Caerus, taking in his blonde hair and blue eyes that were so similar to mine.

My dad is a Greek god. That would have made for an interesting career's day.

Caerus rummaged in his robes, and pulled something out.

It was a long razor, made from the same bronze as my sword. I gave Caerus a questioning look.

'I want you to have this' he said, closing the razor so it fitted neatly into my hand. 'It is one of my symbols. Like the razor, Castor, life is often balanced on a sharp edge. There is a fleeting instant in which opportunities appear, and disappear. I may not be as powerful as my father, Zeus, but I know, and as you do too Castor, that there come moments when, if the opportunity is seized, your life can change forever. You took such a moment when you decided to go with Percy. Another, when you fought the Mormolyceia. You can see the crossroads of opportunity better than anyone else. And that is no small gift.'

The sky above rumbled ominously, loud peals of thunder reverberating through the valley.

Caerus looked up sharply.

'I must leave you, Castor' he said, his tone regretful. 'I wish we had more time. But remember, you and I, we are the great opportunists. Seize the opportunities that are coming to you, Castor, because a second-chance is seldom granted. Camp Half-Blood is going to need your foresight in the days to come.'

'What are you talking about?' I asked, frantically. 'Don't go. I have so many questions.'

'I'm afraid I can't stay' Caerus said. 'But I will tell you that there are a group of campers coming this way, and they're looking for you. They are led by the blonde haired daughter of Athena.'

I groaned.

'What is her problem?' I said, exasperated. 'Why does she want to kill me?'

Caerus shrugged.

'You remind her of someone in her past. Earn her respect tonight, Castor, and you will have an ally for life.'

Great, now I'm getting girl advice from a classical era deity.

Before me, Caerus was fading. He was becoming translucent, like a ghost, and I could see right through him.

'Good bye' he said, his voice faint, like the wind gently rustling through leaves. 'Choose wisely.'

'Wait!' I yelled at him. But it was too late. He was gone. I looked at the razor in my hand. It felt perfect, balancing there in my palm.

From the trees, I could hear muffled voices berating each other.

'I can't believe you lost him.'

'It wasn't my fault, that guy could run like Usain Bolt, I swear.'

'Shut up, both of you. This is supposed to be a stealth mission.'

I flicked the razor open and grinned. Time for the hunted to become the hunter. Consider the opportunity seized.