The Sun's Eclipse

Chapter Two: The Unlikely Son

After talking to Solon for a bit I thought nothing can surprise me anymore. Turns out this place camp half blood (at least that's how Solon called it) is a place for demigods, kids like me. Kids with half-mortal, half-god blood running through their veins. It sounded insane, but after the night I'd just had, I was willing to give "insane" a shot.

The next few hours were a blur of introductions and explanations I wasn't entirely ready for. Solon brought me to the Big House, where I met two more figures who'd supposedly help me make sense of all this. First up was a guy who looked like a college professor, complete with a tweed jacket and a weirdly warm smile. But when he moved, there was something... different about him. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, but there it was—hooves instead of feet. He was half horse. A centaur. Just standing there like it was the most normal thing in the world. This was Chiron, the camp's activities director and, apparently, someone who had taught heroes for centuries.

Then, there was Mr. D, the camp director—a guy who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. He sat behind a table, popping grapes in his mouth, looking more like a grumpy uncle than anything godlike. "New kid, huh? Alfred or something.. I don't know" he said, barely looking at me. That was it. No grand speech, no handshake. Just a disinterested huff and a grape tossed in my direction.

Chiron, thankfully, was a bit more welcoming. He walked me through the basics—Camp Half-Blood's purpose, the cabins for each godly parent, the boundaries we couldn't cross if we wanted to stay safe. He gave me a crash course on monsters, demigod powers, and everything. And yet, with every word, I felt farther away from understanding who I was and why I was here. No one mentioned who my godly parent might be. They couldn't know for sure, they said, until I was "claimed." I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't like the others here—that I'd slipped into a world that wasn't meant for me.

After the tour, Chiron sent me to the Hermes cabin, which, apparently, housed all the unclaimed demigods. "You'll stay here for now," he said, offering a gentle smile. "Until we know more about where you belong."

The cabin was packed, noisy, and chaotic. Kids sat on bunks, talking loudly. A few nodded at me, but nobody came up to talk. I found an empty spot on the ground, put down the blankets they gave me, layed down, and closed my eyes. A few hours later, a shimmering light enveloped me, brighter than any I'd ever seen, wrapping me in warmth like sunlight breaking through clouds. My whole body felt lighter, the pain and weight of the last day lifting. When I opened my eyes, every head in the Hermes cabin was turned my way, jaws dropped.

A sun symbol blazed over my head. Someone whispered, "He's... he's Apollo's kid?"

The looks of disbelief hit me like a punch to the gut. I didn't fit the Apollo stereotype. No flashy smile, no natural charisma. But that didn't seem to matter—the light faded, and suddenly I wasn't just some stranger; I was Apollo's son.

I was guided over to Cabin Seven, the one for Apollo's kids. Inside, everything glowed with a warmth I didn't feel, instruments hung neatly on walls, bows and arrows stacked beside the beds. My new siblings gathered around, some with bright smiles, others studying me with that same skepticism I'd seen everywhere else.

"Hey," one of them said, "what's your deal? Apollo kids are supposed to be, you know... friendly. Like, happy. But you look..." he didn't finish, and I didnt care.

An awkward silence settled over us. None of them argued. They drifted back to their own groups, leaving me standing alone. I couldn't blame them. I couldn't stop thinking about Sebastian—my only friend who had seen me for me, who had sat with me when no one else did. He was dead, and here I was, surrounded by strangers who couldn't even see past my blank expression.

Days passed, and the other Apollo kids slowly drifted away. They'd say hi in passing, but no one tried to push past the wall I'd built. I was grateful, honestly. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sebastian's face, the way he'd been torn down for my sake, and it felt like I was carrying this huge weight, one I didn't want to share.

But there was one kid who didn't give up. Eliot—an Apollo kid who looked a bit younger than me, messy hair and... he was different. He didn't come up to me with big questions or try to "help" me open up. He just sat nearby, doing his own thing, whittling small figurines from wood, humming softly under his breath. The kind of kid who could just be there without trying too hard.

One afternoon, when the others were off practicing archery, he sat beside me on the steps of the cabin, carving something out of a chunk of wood.

"Want to see?" he asked quietly, holding up a small owl he'd whittled. Its wings were spread, every feather carved with careful detail. I nodded, surprised that he'd come over to talk at all.

"This one's a gift for my sister," he said, smiling down at it. "At home. I used to make her these... as a sort of good luck thing."

"You mean, before you came to camp?"

He nodded. "Yeah, before I knew any of this was real." He glanced at me. "Did you ever feel anything weird before you got here?"

I thought back, and mostly been normal—at least until the nightmares started. Sebastian, I thought, but didn't say aloud. "Not really. I mean, I had some strange dreams, but that's all"

Eliot gave me a long, thoughtful look. "You know, sometimes being different means we're meant for something we don't know yet. But it doesn't mean we have to do it alone. I mean, you don't seem like the others, but that doesn't mean you're not supposed to be here." He offered me a small, crooked smile. "You're just your own kind of... hero, maybe."

We sat quietly for a while, the late afternoon sun casting warm golden shadows over the steps. I felt something like relief, maybe a connection, forming between us. It wasn't much, but it was more than I'd felt since I'd gotten here.

"Thanks," I said, after a long silence.

"For what?"

"For... not trying to fix me. For just being." I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a strange pang of guilt for not opening up more. But then I surprised myself. "I lost someone, you know... my best friend. He was the only one who ever understood me."

Eliot didn't press for details. He just nodded, like he understood. "I don't have all the answers either, but maybe you'll find some here. Sometimes, we end up in places that make us uncomfortable so we can grow into the people we're supposed to be."

For the first time in days, I allowed myself to imagine that he might be right, that maybe being here was something I could make sense of... eventually.