CHAPTER 4: WELCOME TO HIS WORLD

Back again! Here's chapter four, and just let me say thanks the world to AutumnLeaves03. Your review meant a lot to me! Like, a lot. Well, this chapter is going to be different from the others. I'm testing out my powers of description here! So lights...cameras...Action!

I looked over the hill upon a picturesque scene.

Pure blue skies hung over a solitary pine that lay on a verdant carpeting of green. It was almost as if there was some sort of invisible line across which the grass really was greener on the other side. Little wildflowers dotted it here and there—blue flax, daisies, sweet alyssum, cosmos, forget-me-not and countless others. In the distance were woods and a lake, and beyond that fields stretched on into the distance. If I hadn't had more important things to worry about, I would have whipped out a camera and put it on a postcard there and then. But of course, there was the camp.

First and foremost was the dragon. It curled around the pine tree, perfectly content. Above it on a branch lay a shimmering golden thing that seemed to radiate peace and calm. Then there was an open-air eating area with rows of tables and benches neatly arranged on marble. There was also what looked like a campfire pit (just looking at it made my mouth water as I imagined a warm, soft, melty marshmallow fresh off the stick. Paired with chocolate and graham crackers…) with a young girl—about eight—sitting beside it. An arena complete with training dummies and weapons stood next to an archery range where many arrows lay on the ground, but still more on the targets' bull's-eyes. A climbing wall made of rock spewed molten lava every so often (there was no way that was legal). Stables full of winged horses lay off to one side, mirroring an outdoor arts-and-crafts area where what looked like looms were set on tables. There was even a basketball court. All this outdoor activity made me wonder what it was like when it rained. Though to look at it then, it was impossible to imagine even a single drop of water falling from the heavens. In the center of everything was an old farmhouse covered in chipping sky blue paint. It had a bronze eagle weather vane on top. Then there were the cabins…don't get me started on the cabins. There were about twenty. Suffice it to say that one had what appeared to be real green flame and another was covered in more plants than a four-thousand-year-old castle. But somehow everything fit some sort of chaotic harmony.

Through it all were children and teenagers of all ages. Whether canoeing on the lake, climbing the wall, practicing archery, simply chatting or even sword fighting, everyone cheerful and content. There were beautiful, almost ethereal women and men with goat's legs and horns among them. It felt, strange as it was, like the way a summer camp should be—one big family in a place where everyone could have fun. I had to get to the bottom of this mystery.

So there I was, standing on the hill by the sign. Taking a deep breath for some reason, I strode forward as if I was passing into a new chapter of my previously normal life.

And promptly rammed straight into a brick wall.

Ouch.

Let me tell you, the sensation of walking headfirst into an invisible barrier sucks. Have you ever walked into a screen door? It was like that, but with backlash. That made it a million times worse. I could sense a sort of vibration all around as if the very air was warping. Some of the people inside the barrier twitched but did not look up. I was walking around, testing it, and the wall was not letting up anywhere. So much for sneaking in unnoticed. Giving up, I began to knock on the barrier, which quickly turned into pounding and shouts of "Let me in! Hey! Listen! I'm heeereeee! Let me in!" That got the people's attention. A group of them immediately went into the farmhouse while others gathered around to where I was. That quickly led to a surprisingly awkward moment where everybody was looking me and I was looking at them, but each of us was waiting for someone else to speak.

Finally, a Latina girl with dark hair and blue eyes the color of a lake stepped up. She spoke in a quiet but firm voice, saying "Who are you? Why are you here?" I looked at her for a second, then replied cooly. "I'm looking for Hayden. I'm his older sister. I know he's here, isn't he?" Wow. That came out far more confident than I thought it would, especially since some people had started pointing weapons at me. Where do you even get those? Do you walk into a weapons store and say, "Hey, I need a new sword. Give me the sharpest one you got"? No, because come on. This is twenty-first century America, not medieval Europe. But what I had said caused a wave of whispers to roll down the crowd. "Hayden? Who's that?" "Isn't he the new kid?" "If she's his sister, why can't she come in?" and more of the sort. It went on like that for a few minutes, until finally help arrived.

In the form of a man with a horse's body.

Now, I don't know if you've ever met a centaur before, but let me tell you, it's pretty jarring. Yes, even more so then people with goat legs. At least they only have two. But add most of a horse and you find yourself thinking of all the wrong questions, like "can centaurs eat grass? What kind of digestive system do they have, human or equestrian? And how do they sit? Do they even sit? Is it tiring to stand all day…" on and on and on, while trying your hardest not to stare. The centaur in question finally cleared his throat.

"Um." I said eloquently. I have a way with words.


After I watched the orientation video, the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place. I finally understood what was going on.

Sort of.

But let's be optimistic here. Chiron, as the centaur was called, told a little girl, a bit younger than Hayden, to "take her to Cabin 11", where apparently my brother was supposed to be, and by her he meant the queen of England.

No, really.

So when I asked about Cabin 11, the girl said that that's where the children of Hermes stayed. Which led me to assume that Hayden's father was Hermes. After all this time, it was pretty hard to believe that my mother had a child with a god. Heck, I've probably met said god, though I would have been too young to remember. Not only that, but my brother—my baby brother—was not entirely exactly one hundred percent human.

It's a lot to take in, right? And I was only fourteen. Well, I shouldn't have felt bad. I heard that demigods lived pretty awful lives, and I came to learn that firsthand, too—but that's later, so it doesn't matter. I mean, just imagine: you find out that Greek myths are true, and that you are one of them. It was…unsettling, to say the least, to imagine Hayden living such a life. On the streets, no money, no one to rely on…I shuddered and shook my head as if to clear those thoughts away. Then and there, I promised myself that I would never let that happen to my baby brother.

Oh, how far I went for that promise.

I apologize for all my teasers…makes it seem like I caused the end of the world. Whoops, shouldn't have said that to you—just kidding. I'm just messing with you. Or am I? DUN DUN DUN… I'm getting off topic. What I mean to say is that a whirlwind of thoughts swept through my mind as we (don't forget the girl) walked towards the cabins. Finally, we were there.

It was a traditional wood cabin, and it looked almost as old as the farmhouse (or 'Big House'). A worn brass number 11 was next to the wood door, looking like it had weathered centuries of exposure to the elements. Which was impossible, because apparently the strongest weather in this camp was a cool summer breeze. I knocked on the door, suddenly feeling butterflies in my stomach. Was there a god for that? Finally, a bored-sounding voice said "Come in."

I took a deep breath (again, for dramatic effect) and opened the door, not sure what to expect.