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It wasn't uncommon for demigods to die.
Most demigods don't even make it to adulthood. The oldest demigod Astoria knew was Luke Castellan, and he was nineteen years old. And she knew it wouldn't be long before he, too, perished like all the other unfortunate demigods who met their inevitable death.
Like Gwen.
Gwen.
The name knocked the air out of her chest, constricting as her lungs begged for air. Not now, she pleaded to anyone who was listening. She doubted anyone was, though. She was always on her own. Her mouth parted, allowing air to flow through as her eyes darted around the quiet Hermes cabin. Lightning struck, lighting the cabin up to where she could briefly see the others' faces. Almost the entire cabin was awake, none of them used to the noisy storm occurring around them.
The urge to slam her fists into something growled and she grimaced, trying to ignore it and the two ghosts that never seemed to leave her alone. When lightning rolled across the sky again, thunder booming, she huffed in frustration and got up from her sleeping bag. She felt eyes immediately turn her, but no one dared to stop her as she put her shoes on and made her way to the cabin's entrance and exit door. A chill ran down her spine as she made accidental eye contact with Ethan Nakamura, who slept right next to her in his own sleeping bag.
"Astoria," a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks, eyes falling closed in defeat and sighed. "Go back to bed."
Astoria turned slightly, eyes focusing in the dark to look at Luke, who was sitting up in his bunk bed, blond hair messy atop his head. Lightning struck, and she could see the pale scar running across his face. She pressed her lips together, "I'm just going to sit on the steps. I'll be OK."
No, she would not be, the both of them knew. But Luke knew her, and if he could help her, he would. This would. "OK. Don't stay out too late." It's dangerous, don't make me come get you myself, his eyes said.
She jerked her head in a nod, closing the door behind her. The smell of rain immediately hit her nose, and she sighed in nostalgia, a memory from what seemed like a lifetime ago flickering in her mind. She sat down on the top stair, hooking her arms around her knees to pull them against her chest and leaning her chin down on them. Drops of rain hit the grass, splashing against her dirty black Converse and soaking her ankles.
The hair on the back of her neck stood, warning her that someone was watching her. She craned her neck to see behind her, only to see that it was the two ghosts who didn't seem to understand privacy. A sigh of frustration left her mouth, "Don't you two have better things to do than stalk a twelve-year-old? You know stalking is a crime, right?"
"File a report," Duke deadpanned, leaning on the railing of the cabin's porch. Soleil sent him a reproachful look and he sighed, rolling his eyes, "You know you're just begging to get in trouble at this point, right?"
