The Underworld Trials (⚢)

Caged Dove

I thrust my sword into a training dummy, trying to force every ounce of my anger and frustration into the foam form. The blank face does nothing to sooth the flames inside me. The gritty sand beneath my feet becomes a hurricane as I whirl faster and faster.

The war meeting from this morning is still racing through my mind. Four months ago my fellow demigods elected me as their strategos, officially making me the general of an army of several hundred demigods. The election had been necessary because the gods were fighting again, but not much more had been offered as explanation.

I only knew slightly more than my peers, that Hades had angered Zeus with his sense of entitlement, and the brothers were at war. Most of the other Olympian gods had sided with Zeus, but with Hades' army of dead warriors and monsters, Zeus's numbers were decreasing at an alarming rate. The king of gods had called upon the children of his kin to fight for him. His request had led to the demigods of Half Blood Academy being forced to learn the art of warfare in a pitifully short time.

Their most recent attempt to defeat a group of  Hydras had been sabotaged when someone snuck into their camp and disarmed their Greek fire arrows.

Hydras were fairly easy to kill if you knew what you were doing. Cut off the head. Burn the neck. If you didn't, two heads would grow in place of the first.

My squadron had found out the hard way when the arrows hadn't detonated. It was supposed to be an easy task with two groups. The ground demigods would take out the hydras while the archers stationed in the trees shot flaming arrows into the severed necks.

Having over a dozen hydras reform, with twice as many angry heads, had taken them by surprise.

I wince at the memory of how many demigods suffered severe burns as a result.

When the group had returned, defeated and injured, many soldiers been more than willing to blame the defeat on me. I would have been able to accept that, if they hadn't blamed me solely for being a female born of Aphrodite. I had worked far too long and hard to squash those kinds of accusations. The thought of my fellow demigods looking down on me for my lineage sends white-hot rage through my veins.

Perhaps that's why I'm shredding the dummy before me into ribbons.

"You're still using that metal toothpick?"

Sweat drips down my neck as I turn, dropping the point of my sword so that it digs into the sandy ground of the training pit. I balance my crossed arms on the hilt, "Calvin. How nice to hear your opinions once again." I run a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face. "Tell me how the javelins you use are less like a toothpick?"

Calvin opens his mouth to respond, and his smirk dissolves into a confused frown. "Whatever, it's still a stupid weapon choice, nobody else uses them."

I straighten, "That's precisely why it gives me an advantage. No one is expecting a Greek demigod to charge into battle with a sword. Everybody's sword skills are so poor because it's a backup plan for most. Why do you think I can so easily disarm my opponents?"

Calvin shrugs, grinning at me. "I never really pay attention to you on the battlefield, unless it's from behind."

My calm exterior doesn't crack as I strike with the speed of a Black Mamba, smacking the flat of my blade against Calvin's heels. As he falls to the dirt, I edge the sharp point towards his throat.

"Have anything else to say, Calvin?"

Even pinned to the dirt, he laughs. "No ma'am, Strategos Haliae, just that I'm loving your hair today."

He winks as he finishes his statement, and I pull my sword away like he might contaminate it. "Get out of my sight, soldier."

Calvin rises and runs a hand through his curly hair to loosen the dirt, still grinning broadly at me. I roll my eyes, sheathing my sword as I exit the training ring.

I stroll through the camp's tents as the setting sun bathes them red, nodding to several of the soldiers as I pass, letting my hard features relax into something softer.

"Haliae! General, wait up!"

I wince at the title, and turn. My best friend, Lilliana, is running through the compound with her hair flying about her wildly. The sight amuses me, and I feel the tension ease out of my shoulders slightly.

Lilliana embraces me when she catches up, crushing my ribs and leaving me with a mouthful of blonde hair.

"Nice to see you too, Lilliana." I laugh as she falls into step beside me.

Lilliana's mouth quirks upwards, brown eyes sparkling. "Well I'm sorry, I thought you had died. You do know it's rude to just go off and stab fake people when you're angry?"

Lilliana is joking, but I can hear the worry curled beneath her words. "Sorry, Lilli. I just... I had to get some frustration out. It feels like I'm seven years old again, with beauty as my only talent."

Lilliana nods in understanding, "You knew this wouldn't be easy, Haliae, everyone has warned you." The blonde rarely looks so serious, so her words wrap themselves around my brain. "You aren't the average daughter of Aphrodite, you're not the average fighter, and you're not the average demigod."

I flush, embarrassment and anger tinting my cheeks. "You think I don't know that, Lilliana?" I look away, eyes flitting over the campground. "I think I'm going to go to my tent. We have an early morning tomorrow."

Lilliana's brows furrow, "Haliae-"

"Goodnight, Lieutenant, don't be late for the meeting."

She straightens her shoulders as I dismisses her, eyes still swimming with worry. "Yes, General."

Lilliana watches her best friend walk away and duck into her tent with red cheeks, and shakes her head. "Find yourself, Haliae."
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