I'm going to start out by saying that this is EXTREMELY confidential. If you don't have the authorization to read this, STOP READING IMMEDIATELY!!! Okay, I'm assuming you have authorization at this point. Chiron asked me to record my research as a guide for other people like me. If there ever is another, though I doubt the gods would do it again after what happened the first time. My name is Elizzabeth Bane, but I go by Lizz. I'd prefer that nobody call me Elizzabeth. Ever. All my life I thought I was a demigod daughter of Apollo. Then, I turned fourteen and found out my entire life has been a lie. I suppose I should start at the beginning. The trainwreck that is my life all started when I was twelve, during an innocent sixth-grade field trip.

I sat on the school bus, alone in the last row. My violin was on the floor by my feet. I was the only Freshman in the school orchestra. I had also skipped several grades, so I was only twelve. There had been news articles about me, the "child prodigy". Because of that, everybody hated me. Despite me being younger than everybody else, I was the first chair. If you don't know what that means, it essentially means I lead the violin section. I have several solos, and my teacher thinks I'm the greatest thing since Hercules. The bus screeched to a stop, and everyone was thrown forward. I slammed into the seat in front of me. The town I lived in, North Adams Massachusets, was extremely small, so they couldn't be picky about bus drivers. The woman driving our bus looked about ninety, and her glasses were on the ground, smashed into a million pieces. It was unsettling to think we still had four hours left to drive before we got to the music festival in Boston we were playing at. My teacher stood up. She was a small woman in her late twenties. She loved the color pink way too much. I've never once seen her not wearing all pink. She smiled one of her try-too-hard smiles, and announced, "The choir from the other high school will be taking the same bus as us, so everyone make room!" she said too cheerily. Everyone looked at each other. We didn't necessarily have to make room. It was a full-sized bus, and there were only fifteen kids in our orchestra. The choir from the other school boarded the bus. One boy immediately caught my eye. He had tousled black hair and dark eyes. He was the best looking boy I'd ever seen, but that's not why I noticed him. Okay, that might be part of it, but the thing that really caught my eye was his age. He looked about as old as I was. A few people elbowed him on his way to the back. His eyes locked with mine, and he smiled. He made his way to the back and plopped down beside me.

"Hey, I'm Mark," he said with a lopsided smile.

" Er, I'm Lizz," I answered. He raised an eyebrow.

"Whoah, you from England?" He asked, obviously noticing my accent. I forced a smile, trying my best to ignore the painful memories that came flooding back.

"Yeah, I lived in Whitby until I was six. I honestly don't know how I still have the accent." We both laughed a little.

"That's awesome. So, you're what, eleven, twelve?" He asked.

"Twelve."

"Me too! When's your birthday?"

"August twenty-eighth. You?"

"April sixth. And you play the viola?"

"It's a violin!"

"I knew that." We both laughed. I was really starting to like this boy. We talked for a while. I soon discovered that he was pretty much a boy version of me. We both prefer cats to dogs, we both skipped middle school, we even liked all the same musicians. It was so hard to find people who like Lindsay Stirling. Once the conversation turned to music, I took out my iPod and we listened to all of the songs I had on it, sharing my earbuds. After the last song ended, his phone buzzed. He looked at it and shrugged.

"Just my mom. Hey, our town is pretty small. Maybe I know your parents. What's your last name?" I bit my lip. I always hated this conversation, no matter who it was with.

"Bane," I said at last.

"Whoa, like Chase Bane? He's the richest person in North Adams! He's your dad? He has kids? He was born and raised here. How do you have a British accent?" I sighed.

"He's my adopted dad. I was born in Whitby, but I never knew my mum and dad. Mr. Bane lived in Whitby for five years. He adopted me when I was one. When I was six, we moved here. I don't really remember much before Mr. Bane adopted me." I hated how people looked at me when they found out Chase Bane was my dad. Like I'd have them executed if they made a wrong move. That's why all of my teachers were so nice to me. They just wanted an in with my dad. But Mark didn't look at me like that. When I finally met his eyes, they were full of sympathy.

"You miss Whitby, don't you?" He asked when I'd finished. I just nodded. I was afraid that if I tried to speak, I'd start crying. I did miss Whitby. More than anything. I just missed Britain altogether. What I wouldn't give to go back...

"Hey, what's your phone number?" he asked, snapping me back to reality. I was relieved that he'd changed the subject.

"Oh, er, Mr. Bane won't buy me a phone for reasons unknown to me. He bought me my iPod with a great amount of reluctance, and he doesn't like me using the home phone often. He only has a flip phone, even though he could afford pretty much any phone he wanted. He rarely uses it. I can give you my home phone if you'd like though." I've never understood what Mr. Bane has against technology. There are only two phones in our entire house, and he uses them as little as possible. Mr. Bane is extremely mysterious altogether. There are all sorts of rooms in the mansion that I've never been in. Once when I was about ten, I accidentally opened a door I wasn't supposed to open. Inside was all sorts of weapons and armor, but nothing modern. Everything looked like it was from Ancient Greece. I had left the room quickly, trying my best to relock the door. I don't even know how I unlocked it in the first place. I just grabbed the handle and it popped open. I also don't know why I still call him Mr. Bane. I did when he was my foster dad, and when he adopted me, I didn't stop.

"Yeah, what's your home phone number?" Mark asked. I told him and he put it on his phone. He held up his phone as if he was taking a picture.

"Smile," he said. I just had time to twist my face into an awkward smile before the flash blinded me.

"I needed a picture of you for your contact," he explained, showing me the picture. I groaned.

"Ugh, I look awful." My long brown hair was in a messy braid. The gold streaks in my hair glinted due to the flash. The gold flecks in my grey eyes seemed to sparkle. I was extremely gorgeous. Everyone is always taken back at first when they meet me for the first time. I'm aware that most girls would kill to have my small pointed nose and delicate features, but it doesn't really match me. I was an extremely nerdy fangirl who was rarely around boys my age. It just seemed like a shame that such unearthly beauty would be wasted like that. On someone like me. I looked at Mark, expecting a smile, but his face was dead serious.

"I don't think that's possible." I gave a small smile and opened my mouth to respond, but the bus squealed to a stop, throwing us both forward. I groaned, massaging my sore head.

"Were here everyone!" My teacher announced, her unnaturally high voice made me cringe. I stuck my iPod in my pocket and grabbed my violin and sheet music. Mark and I stood up and walked to the exit. On our way, a large mean looking boy stuck his foot out, tripping me. He roared with laughter. I stumbled into Mark who caught me. I quickly scrambled to my feet. I looked up at the jerk who tripped me. I didn't recognize him, but he had on a shirt from my school. I raised an eyebrow.

"What, might I ask, was that for?" Mark asked, scowling at the boy. The large, mean looking boy who tripped me seemed to growl. I looked around and realized that we were alone on the bus. I didn't even see the bus driver. I grabbed Mark's arm.

"Come on, let's just go..." I began to pull him towards the door, but the boy stepped in front of us. I got a good look at him then. He had choppy blonde hair and a face that appeared to be permanently twisted into a sneer. I noticed his eyes and stumbled back. They were glowing red. I watched in horror as his face grew fur, and soon morphed into a lion head. His neck elongated and grew scales. After a matter of seconds, Mark and I stood staring into the red eyes of a beast that resembled a lion but had the long, green, scaly neck of a serpent.

"Serpopard," I mumbled under my breath.

"WHAT?!" Mark yelled.

"Serpopard!" I repeated, "It's a monster from Egyptian Mythology, but they're not real!" I yelled. It hissed and snapped at my arm. I screamed as its razor sharp teeth dug into my skin. Mark hit it in the face with his backpack and it pulled away. Dizzy with pain, I stumbled back into Mark. My arm hurt too bad to care. He examined my wound and nearly gagged. He tried not to show how uneasy he was, but I could tell. I refused to look at my arm. It would just make it worse.

"Seems pretty real to me!" Mark said. He tried to carry me to the emergency exit but the monster leaped in front of us.

"Hey, Lizz?" Mark asked, quietly.

"Yeah?" I managed through the sharp pain in my arm.

"I - I don't think we're going to make it through this." His voice quavered slightly. The monster opened its mouth, and we braced ourselves.