𝙰𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚜 (𝙹.𝙶.) [𝟷]

1.3

WELCOME TO CAMP HALF BLOOD

"Alright! Welcome to Camp Half-Blood," Mae declared with a mischievous grin, tugging Jason along beside her like a lost puppy. "Now, we're on our way to the Big House. Over there are the cabins—where all the demigod drama and heroics go down. Think of it as a very exclusive summer camp with more monsters and less s'mores."

Jason, still trying to make sense of everything, glanced around the camp with wide eyes. "So, this is where all the... demigods hang out?"

Mae nodded, her grin widening. "Yep, this is our humble abode. The place where children of gods try not to kill each other—or get killed by monsters, for that matter."

Jason chuckled nervously. "Right... And you've been here since you were a kid?"

"Since forever," Mae replied casually, leading him past a group of campers who eyed Jason curiously. "Started out as a scared kid who didn't know the difference between a satyr and a siren. Now I'm practically the unofficial tour guide."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Unofficial?"

Mae shrugged. "Well, the official tour guide has a thing against monsters and tends to get distracted by shiny objects. So, I stepped up."

As she led him up the hill towards the big blue house that she was intimately familiar with, memories flooded Mae's mind. She recalled the first few weeks of her life at Camp Half-Blood, spent mostly in the infirmary trying to recover from years of neglect. At the tender age of five, Mae had been severely malnourished. Her mortal mother had been chronically ill, leaving little food and no income for Mae and herself. They eked out a meager existence near an abandoned house, scraping by in the shadows of normalcy.

Mae's childhood was a mosaic of fleeting moments—hunger gnawing at her belly, loneliness settling like a constant companion, and an unwavering yearning for something more. She often sought solace in the flickering flames of makeshift hearths she'd craft, a skill born out of necessity and a natural affinity for fire, a trait that would later define her as a daughter of Hestia.

Despite the hardships, Mae's spirit remained resilient and mischievous. She would sneak into nearby orchards to steal fruit for herself and her mother, her small frame darting between trees like a phantom. The local farmers dubbed her "the ghost of the orchard," unaware of her real purpose—a desperate attempt to survive in a world that seemed intent on testing her at every turn.

Even at a young age, Mae sensed she was different. Whispers in the wind and shadows that moved of their own accord hinted at her unique nature. It wasn't until Gleeson Hedge, with his goat legs and gruff demeanor, appeared like a mythical savior amidst Mae's struggles, that her world began to change. Taking her hand, he offered safety and a place where she could finally embrace her true self.

Hedge introduced her to a world where myths were reality, where gods and monsters walked among mortals in disguise. Mae learned quickly, her natural affinity for fire and her resilient spirit marking her as someone special even among demigods. She trained hard, honing her skills not just out of duty, but also as a way to protect those she cared about and to carve out her place in a world that had once seemed so cruel.