RETROGRADE - luke castellan.

two.

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CHAPTER TWO
INTERROGATIONS

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THERE WASN'T A SINGLE person truly on my side. Everyone that supported me simply wanted me to go on the quest to represent them — the minorities all cramped up in Cabin Eleven. My friends would never wish a quest upon any of us — we were never in search of glory. Which was why it seemed uncharacteristic of Chiron to agree to let me go, albeit reluctantly.

Chiron would never let more demigods on a quest than necessary. And Luke was more than capable enough to go on his own if he wanted it. He was well known at camp as the most skilled of us. There wasn't a single person here capable enough not to be a burden to him. Maybe he'd have a sense of security, at least, with some of the older campers. But me? The young me? Out of the question. So why wasn't Chiron protesting? Maybe I've become paranoid after all the betrayals we'd faced at war.

It's not that I don't trust Chiron... But he has a complex against destiny. He's similar to the Gods that way. He never interfered with the Fates, he wouldn't even try. He's been cowardly for millennia. He protects everyone by keeping them within Camp's borders, but he treats every demigod as a lost cause, someone not to get attached to.

Something must be wrong with Luke's prophecy. That has to be it.

"Are you insane?!" Jaxon's hands dug into my shoulders, and I flinched. "What are you thinking? You've barely trained long enough to—"

"I know," I tried to face him as sincerely as possible. "But I have to do this. One of the Olympians themselves asked me to."

My eyes searched for Luke, so we could discuss how to go about the quest. He was surrounded. He was always surrounded.

"What...?" Jaxon mumbled, and I could see he was about to blow up on me. I kept my gaze fixed on Luke as I tried to think of ways to persuade my brother.

It was so strange to see him again, looking so animated. The last I saw of him was his pale, ashen face as he took his last breath. But he was here now, smiling brightly as the younger kids stared up at him with glittering eyes. There were people patting his shoulders in congratulations or singing him praises, putting their utmost faith in him. He looked so happy. His emotionless mask was nowhere to be seen. Gods, what I'd have done back then to be the one to make him smile.

"Priyal, don't zone out on me like that," Jaxon hissed. "What are you talking about? One of the gods personally asked you to go on this quest?"

"Something like that..." It was hard to focus on Jaxon now. It suddenly hit me that I had actually travelled back in time, that things had been restored, that peace had been restored. Friends that had stabbed one another in the back were joint at the hip again. Even the dryads, some of whom had retreated into their homes, scarred and never to return again, were there, chasing one another and playing games. I turned to the campfire, which slowly began to die out. Weapon. I don't have my sword. My heart sank — the very sword I'd poured my blood, sweat, and tears into no longer existed.

"No, don't give me that," Jaxon snapped. "Is that a yes or a no, Priyal? What is 'something like that' supposed to mean?"

Shifting my attention back to him, I wracked my brain for excuses. Deep breath. "Jax," I locked eyes with him, "I can't talk about it okay? I'm really tired, and I still need to prepare a lot of things for tomorrow..."