The Inferno of Olympus: The Son of Hestia

Chapter 1-The World's Worst Birthday Present

I never thought I'd be the kid who gets stuck in the middle of nowhere, but here I am—living in a cottage in rural West Virginia with my dad, who's basically the sweetest baker you'll ever meet. Seriously, if you ever find yourself on a back road in Appalachia, just follow the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls, and you'll stumble right into our kitchen. My dad's secret ingredient? A pinch of love, or at least that's what he claims. Me? I just think he's a genius with flour.

Now, let me backtrack a bit. My name is Y/N L/N, and I'm not your average fifteen-year-old. For starters, I've got this little problem called dyslexia, which means reading is a little like trying to decode a foreign language written in invisible ink. And trust me, it doesn't help that my brain sometimes decides to turn simple words into a scrambled mess, which is super fun when you're trying to keep up in English class.

My only friend, Ashton, thinks it's hilarious. He's the type who's always armed with a joke or a sarcastic comment, and honestly, I'd be lost without him. He's the only one who can handle my obnoxiousness and still want to hang out with me. I mean, who else would find it entertaining when I accidentally mix up my words and end up saying something like "chocolate cake" when I meant to ask about homework?

Ashton and I were just walking home from school that day, a crisp autumn breeze rustling the leaves. I was in the middle of explaining how I was totally going to win the upcoming bake-off with my dad's secret recipe for brownies when I felt this weird tugging sensation in my gut, like something big was about to happen.

"Dude, you're obsessed with brownies," Ashton laughed, tossing a pebble into a nearby stream. "How about we focus on your battle strategy for the bake-off instead of drooling over dessert?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smirking. "Okay, Captain Serious. Maybe I'll bake a giant brownie in the shape of a dragon just to impress you."

"Now that's an idea I'd like to see," he replied, his eyes glinting with mischief.

But as we rounded the corner toward my house, the air changed. It felt charged, like the moment before a storm when everything goes still, and I could almost hear the world holding its breath. I brushed it off, of course. Maybe I was just hungry, or maybe Dad's cinnamon rolls were calling me again.

As we approached our cottage, I spotted a flicker of light dancing in the window. My dad must be working his baking magic again. But then something strange happened. The light shifted into a glowing shape that made my heart race. I squinted, trying to see better, but before I could react, Ashton shouted, "Y/N! Look out!"

Just as I turned, I felt the ground tremble beneath my feet. I stumbled, barely keeping my balance as a flash of fire lit up the sky, casting eerie shadows around us. My mind raced—what in the name of all things sweet was happening?

And just like that, I realized life in rural West Virginia was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

I scrambled to my feet, the weight of confusion settling in my stomach like an unbaked cake. "What was that?" I shouted, my voice almost lost in the rush of wind that suddenly kicked up around us.

Ashton looked equally stunned, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. "Dude, I have no idea, but I think we should—"

Before he could finish, the glowing light exploded into a swirl of orange and gold, revealing a figure standing right in front of my house. The person was cloaked in what looked like a flowing robe, shimmering like the flames of a fireplace, and my heart raced faster than when I chowed down on one of Dad's five-layer chocolate cakes.

"Y/N L/N!" the figure boomed, their voice echoing as if we were in a massive cave. "You must come with me at once!"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"