12. Scars.

Damian slept deeply, his face relaxed despite the cold that troubled him. He was unaware of the concerns around him, nor of Chiron's worried gaze from the doorway of the infirmary. The children of Apollo had gathered around the centaur, their head medic speaking softly, but with an intensity that revealed his anger at what they had discovered.

"The scars on his back aren't recent," explained one of the boys, looking at Chiron with eyes full of repressed rage. "But with the cold, they're getting inflamed. And they're deep... they can't just be the result of accidents."

Chiron nodded, his gaze serious as his tail twitched nervously. It was hard for him to imagine such a dark past for a boy so young. Damian, with his reserved and kind nature, had never openly talked about what had happened to him before arriving at Camp Half-Blood. And now, the marks on his body told a story the boy had never had the courage to share.

"He'll never go back to them," Chiron declared firmly. "I won't allow those... mortals to ever have access to him again. We'll find a solution."

One of the children of Apollo lowered his gaze, still shaken by the thought that anyone could inflict such suffering on a child. "We'll do everything we can to help him heal, Chiron. But... it will take time. Not just for the body, but for the mind."

Chiron looked at Damian, who had wrapped himself more tightly in the blankets, his peaceful expression unaware of the conversation taking place. "He's come a long way since he arrived here," he said, more to himself than to the others. "But we need to do more. This place must be his home, his protection. And we must never allow him to feel threatened again."

The children of Apollo nodded, determined to care for Damian and do everything possible to help him heal, not only from the cold but also from the invisible wounds in his heart. Chiron had spoken with Annabeth with the gravity of someone sharing a heavy secret. He had told her about Damian's scars and the past behind them. Annabeth listened in silence, her fists clenched at her sides. It was hard to imagine that anyone could hurt Damian, that shy and kind boy who rarely raised his voice.

"Don't tell him," Chiron said finally. "He's not ready. But I think you can help him, Annabeth. You're one of the few people he truly trusts."

Annabeth nodded. She was used to carrying responsibility, and this wouldn't be any different. She decided not to force Damian to speak, but to make sure he knew he wasn't alone.

Her strategy was simple: spend more time together, without ever directly addressing the subject. So, in addition to Greek and drawing lessons, Annabeth introduced dagger training. "It's always useful to know how to defend yourself," she said one day, handing him a wooden dagger. "And we don't want Clarisse to have too much of an advantage over us."

Damian gave a weak smile at the joke and let himself be involved. He wasn't a natural fighter, but Annabeth was patient and encouraging. She showed him how to move, how to defend himself, and most importantly, how to find confidence in himself.

Each lesson was a small step. They never spoke of what he had gone through, but Annabeth noticed in his eyes that the gesture didn't go unnoticed. In his own way, Damian was accepting that silent support, and slowly, it seemed he was gaining strength.

For Annabeth, this was enough. She would never let Damian face his past alone, and even though he didn't know it, she was ready to fight by his side, dagger in hand. With the arrival of spring, the camp seemed to awaken slowly, just like nature. Damian, still wrapped in his beloved hoodie, was finally seeing the fruits of his efforts. The Ancient Greek lessons with Annabeth had become less intimidating, and now he could hold simple conversations. Although he still stumbled over some words, Annabeth encouraged him with a smile: "Every mistake is a step forward."

Gray, always patient and passionate, was teaching him more complex songs for the ocarina. Damian was finally becoming comfortable with the instrument, and there were moments when he played alone, letting the notes carry him away. Several times, the other demigods stopped to listen, leaving him with a sense of satisfaction he couldn't explain.

With the dagger, Damian had gained more confidence. Annabeth, though a demanding teacher, also knew how to encourage him, and every time he managed to complete a sequence without mistakes, she rewarded him with a nod. "See? I told you, you have talent," she'd say.

Damian wasn't an expert yet, but his determination during training was truly admirable. Even Simon watched him with pride, joking that soon he would be asking Damian for advice on how to fight.

Winter was giving way to spring, and with it, it seemed Damian was blossoming as well. He was no longer the lost and silent boy who had arrived at the camp long ago. Now he was part of something bigger, a family, and every progress he made was a step forward toward self-confidence.