Chapter 7: Starry Night
Altair found the door marked with a slightly crooked "3" and fumbled with the key, finally managing to unlock it.
He pushed it open and stepped inside, his eyes widening slightly. It wasn't fancy, but it was…cool. The walls were painted a calming shade of blue, and a single window looked out over the back of the Rest Stop, offering a view of the distant woods. A simple wooden bed, neatly made up, sat against one wall, while a small desk and chair were tucked into the corner. But the best part? A small door in the corner clearly led to a private bathroom. His own shower. His own bed. After the long journey and the whirlwind of the past two days, the idea of having his own space, even a small one, felt incredibly comforting.
So much has happened,he thought, sinking down onto the edge of the people, new places, magic…it's overwhelming. But…this isn't so looked around the room again, a small smile playing on his is actually…pretty cool.
The game had been fun too. More than fun, actually. All these kids of different gods, each with their own distinct vibe. He still couldn't wrap his head around how many there were. The twelve Olympians he sort of knew from school, but there seemed to be so many more. Gods he'd never even heard of. How did anyone keep track?
Not everyone was totally happy that Camp had moved past focusing squarely on the twelve. If Cassius's and Julia's jokes were anything to go by. But it also made the question of belonging a little more… open.
The possibilities were exciting, if also slightly terrifying. There were some family trees he definitely didn't want to climb:Please, don't let me be another son of Apollo,he thought having Cassius as a brother. Ugh, the horror—The image of being related tothatpuffed-up peacock was enough to make him grimace.
Altair shook his head. It didn't matter right now. He was still unclaimed, and he had a long way to go before he could even think about where he fit in. Right now, all he wanted was to sit in his room, lie down, and let his brain catch up with everything that had happened.
Altair's stomach growled, loud enough to make him wince. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. The unclaimed kids told him that the entire camp had dinner together every night. But the idea of going to the pavilion with everyone else made him hesitate. His social battery had died, truthfully, several hours ago. He could barely muster the energy to hold a conversation, much less sit in the middle of a crowd.
But as he made up his mind to stay in bed instead, he heard a knock at his door. Zeke was waiting for him, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face.
"Skipping dinner?" Zeke asked.
"I was just thinking—"
"That you'd stay here and starve? Yeah, no." Zeke interrupted, shaking his head. "First night, you eat with everyone. Camp tradition. Plus, the food's amazing, so you'd just be cheating yourself."
Altair groaned but let Zeke lead him back out. He didn't want to break any traditions, and deep down, he was a little curious.
The pavilion was alive with energy. Long wooden tables were arranged in neat rows, surrounded by clusters of campers who seemed to fit together perfectly. Their chatter and laughter filled the air, mingling with the mouthwatering smell of roasted meat and fresh bread.
Altair lingered at the entrance, scanning the room. Every camper wore a necklace strung with small beads that clinked softly as they moved. Some necklaces were much longer than others. One for each summer? he wondered.
He noticed how different groups seemed to naturally cluster together. At one table, a group of campers spoke in measured tones, their conversations punctuated by quick sketches on napkins and eager debates. Many wore gleaming silver pins that caught the light. At another table, campers dressed in earthy colors traded what looked like packets of seeds, their excited whispers accompanied by small sprouting plants that grew and wilted in their palms.
He spotted Julia and Merrick sitting together at another table, laughing with a group of satyrs. Their table buzzed with energy. A man with dark wild curls lazily grasped a goblet near them, his booming laugh echoing through the space. A camp director? The more Altair looked, the more he noticed the man and Julia had similar features. Was that her dad? And...there was something else. Something about him struck Altair as odd, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
And then there was Cassius. Even among the other kids at his table in their fine clothes, Cassius drew attention. A gold shield pin with a silver lyre gleamed on his chest. Altair didn't have to hear him to know he was bragging about something.
Altair sighed. In his plain gray shirt, he felt out of place. Unclaimed kids could sit anywhere, but where did he belong?
"Lost?" Spoke a familiar voice behind him.
Altair turned to see Thero, the boy he'd sparred with earlier. Thero grinned, his broad shoulders and easy confidence making him seem even taller than he was.
"Come sit with us," Thero said, gesturing to a table where several athletic-looking campers were arm wrestling.
There's was as lively as it looked. Campers introduced themselves with booming voices and wide smiles, and while Altair struggled to remember all their names, their warmth made it easier to relax.
"So, Altair here," Thero boomed, clapping him on the back again, making Altair nearly drop his fork, "this guy's got reflexes like a panther. You should've seen him in the sparring ring this morning! Untrained, mind you, but he practically dodged everything I threw. I swear, he moved like he was reading my mind!"
"Seriously?" one of the campers, a lanky kid with a mop of sandy hair, blinked. "Never even picked up a sword before?"
"Nope," Altair confirmed.
"Never held a proper sword in his life," Thero speared a grape with his fork. "Fresh off the… well, wherever he came from. But he's got the build, right? Look at those shoulders."
Another camper, a stocky kid with a wide grin, nodded. "Definitely! We need someone who can actuallycatchthe dodgeballs during training. You know, instead of just using their face." She glanced pointedly at Thero, who rolled his eyes.
Altair felt his cheeks 're just being nice because I'm new,he don't know I'm not a fighter. I had no idea what I was had never considered himself particularly strong or bold. He remembered the way Cassius had looked at him earlier, that dismissive sneer. And he had to admit, despite himself, it felt a lot better to have people think youcouldbe something, even if you couldn't, than to be written off as worthless from the start.
"It's nothing," he mumbled, fiddling with his napkin. "I just… grew up on a farm. Lots of physical labor. You know, wrestling pigs, hauling hay bales… the glamorous life."
"Farm work, huh?" a third camper, a boisterous kid with a laugh that could rival a foghorn, grinned, nudging Altair with his elbow. "Explains why you're so… grounded." He winked.
As the conversation flowed, Altair subtly observed the other campers. He noticed a few of them wore the same pin—a stylized Greek helmet. Warriors. It had to be the symbol of Ares, the god of , they're all… siblings?he of glanced at Thero's shoulder. Instead of a lapel pin, he wore a patch stitched into his t-shirt—a spear crossed with a torch. The symbol was unfamiliar. It wasn't a lightning bolt, a trident, a lyre, or any of the other symbols he associated with the twelve , not one of the twelve then, he what does it mean? And why a patch, not a pin?
"Hey, speaking of weapons," Thero said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "what's with new kids going straight for the… staffs?" He gestured emphatically with his hands. "I mean, come on. Sticks? When you could have a sword? That's like bringing a spoon to a knife fight."
The stocky girl grinned. "Hey! Staves are strategic! They require finesse, coordination! It's all about leverage! It's like… like using a really long lever!"
"A lever that gets you smacked by a sword," Thero retorted, grabbing a breadstick and using it as a mock sword. He made a dramatic slashing motion. "Give me cold steel any day. Besides, swords are way cooler. Theygleam. Theyslice. They make awesomeshingsounds!"
"Cooler?" the stocky kid scoffed. "Please. Staves are versatile. You can disarm someone, trip them, use them for vaulting—try doingthatwith a sword!" He mimed twirling a staff, narrowly avoiding hitting the boisterous camper in the face with his elbow.
"Oh yeah, because we're all going to be vaulting over things in combat," Thero said, rolling his eyes. "What are you going to do, pole vault your way out of a minotaur charge? 'Excuse me, Mr. Minotaur, just need to get a running start here…'"
"It's called thinking ahead, Thero! Using your head!" the stocky kid retorted, sitting back down heavily and making the table groan. She turned to Altair, "See? This is what I'm talking about. Staves require brainsandbrawn. It's the thinking man's weapon!"
Altair, who had been watching the back and forth with growing amusement, finally burst out laughing. It was a genuine, hearty laugh that shook his shoulders. He couldn't help it; the two of them were so passionate about such a ridiculous argument.
Thero watched him for a moment, then turned to the stocky kid. "Yeah, yeah, staves. Whatever. Though," he added, glancing back at Altair with a small smile, "I gotta admit, he made that staff work for him in the ring today."
The stocky kid nodded in agreement. "True. Didn't see that coming." She paused, then her eyes lit up. "You know whatreallydoesn't get enough credit? The proper way to store your training dummies! I mean, some people just leave them lying around! It's chaos!"
"Chaos?" Thero scoffed, instantly taking the bait. "It's called efficiency! You just leave them where they fall so you can immediately start practicing again! What's the point of putting them away? They're just going to get used again anyway!" And just like that, they were off on another heated debate, this time about the merits of different training dummy storage methods.
Halfway through the meal, the chatter died down as a counselor stood at the front of the pavilion and called for silence. "Offerings to the gods!"
Altair's eyes ?He'd heard about this in history class, the ancient rituals people would do to appease their gods… was this some kind of…human sacrificething? He looked around nervously. The other campers were completely nonchalant, grabbing bits of their barbecue.
Thero noticed his expression. "Relax," he chuckled. "It's not like they're going to ask for your firstborn or anything. Though I wouldn't put it past the gods to ask for a Tesla Roadster."
One by one, campers tossed portions of their food into the bonfire in the center of the room. When it was Altair's turn, he froze. Staring into the flames, half-expecting a skeletal hand to reach out.
"Just chuck it in," Thero whispered, nudging him with his elbow. "It's symbolic. They appreciate the gesture."
With a sigh of relief, Altair tossed his uneaten dinner rolls into the fire. It promptly disintegrated into a puff of smoke.
When the meal ended, Thero clapped him on the back. "Good day today dude! See you around, eh?"
Altair smiled faintly. "Thanks. It was… fun."
The walk back to Hermes' Rest Stop was blessedly quiet. The other unclaimed campers had hurried ahead, eager to get back to their rooms. Zeke gave him a lazy salute as he passed on the way back, and Khin offered him a small smile. Mia and Rory waved, their goodnights soft and genuine. Altair, however, lingered, enjoying the cool night air and the vast expanse of the star-studded sky.
As he walked slowly, a brilliant streak of light tore across the darkening sky. A shooting star blazing like an electric blue arrow. Altair stopped, his breath catching. He'd always loved seeing the stars, and this one was particularly spectacular. He watched, mesmerized, as the brilliant streak faded, a small smile touching his a wish, he thought to himself.
Back in his room, Altair paused just inside the doorway. Moonlight spilled through the window, bathing the room in a soft, ethereal glow. He was tired, his limbs heavy with the day's events, but his mind felt clearer than it had in a long time.
As he straightened up, he felt a strange, momentary sensation, as if the floor beneath him had tilted slightly. He blinked, but everything seemed normal. He shook his head. Must be getting late.
As he climbed into bed, pulling the the covers up, his gaze drifted to the stars through the window.I won't let you down, Pa. I promise.