eclipse [j.grace 1]

iii. just two kids

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across Camp Jupiter as the camp settled into the familiar rhythm of evening. Eira walked beside Jason, the tour of the camp still fresh in her mind, though her thoughts were clouded with uncertainty. 

The once-vibrant surroundings now seemed to close in around her, the camp's energy tinged with the whispers and furtive glances of its inhabitants. Their curiosity mixed with wariness was palpable, and Eira could almost feel the weight of their scrutiny.

The small cabin that would be her home for the foreseeable future stood before her, modest and unassuming. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the sun chariot or the celestial halls of Olympus she had known. 

Instead, it was plain, with a simple wooden door and a small window that looked out onto the camp. Jason paused at the entrance, giving her a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"This is it," he said, his voice carrying a mix of formality and genuine warmth. "It's not much, but it's yours. Lyra and Marcus wanted you to have a place of your own for now."

Eira nodded, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her jacket, a gesture meant to calm her but only serving to remind her of how out of place she felt. "Thank you, Jason. For the tour and... everything."

Jason's grin was laced with a hint of melancholy, his blue eyes reflecting the dim light. "No problem. It's going to be different, but you'll get used to it. And if you need anything, just find me. Or Lyra or Marcus—they're good people."

She hesitated, then nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jason gave her a casual salute before turning to leave, but paused after a few steps. "And, Eira," he added, turning back to her, "you're not alone here. It might feel that way at first, but it'll get better."

With that, he walked off, leaving Eira standing alone in front of the cabin. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping inside. 

The interior was simple—a bed, a small table, and a chair. A lantern hung on the wall, casting a warm, flickering light across the room. It was quiet, almost eerily so, compared to the bustling energy of the camp outside. The silence seemed to press in on her, amplifying her loneliness.

Eira set her small bag on the bed and sat down beside it. She could still feel the lingering warmth of the sun chariot on her skin, the memory of her father's presence a bittersweet comfort. 

Apollo had been so certain that sending her to Camp Jupiter was the right choice, but now that she was here, Eira wasn't so sure. The idea of belonging among these demigods seemed increasingly remote. She felt like an outsider, a stranger in a world she was supposed to fit into.

As she lay back on the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, her mind wandered to the faces she'd seen that day—curious, cautious, even suspicious. They didn't know her, and she didn't know them. All she had were the stories her father had told her, tales of heroes and battles, honor and sacrifice. But stories were just that—stories. The reality was far more complex and unforgiving.

Eira's thoughts drifted to the training session that awaited her the next day. The pressure to perform, to live up to the expectations that accompanied her divine heritage, weighed heavily on her. 

She knew that Lyra and Marcus would be watching, their assessments likely influenced by their own experiences and the camp's recent tensions. She wondered if they would see her as an asset or a liability.

As she drifted off to sleep, her mind remained occupied with Lyra and Marcus, the Praetors who had greeted her with measured kindness. Their stoic demeanor suggested they were grappling with their own concerns about her arrival.