We hit the shore, drenched, bruised, exhausted. But I barely felt it.

  Because before me stood something impossible.

  I had expected a battlefield. A ruined stronghold. A handful of desperate survivors.

  Instead—Camp Aegis stretched farther than I could see.

  Cabins dotted the land like stars in the night sky, scattered yet organized, an entire city of demigods hidden from the world. But even among them, twelve stood out.

  Larger. Older. Timeless. Their architecture didn’t just belong to history—it was history. Their placement wasn’t random either. An incomplete ‘H.’ Or maybe an ‘O.’ A silent reminder of a pantheon fractured yet still standing.

  I didn’t need to ask whose they were.

  Zeus. Poseidon. Hades. Dionysus. Hermes. Hephaestus. Apollo. Aphrodite. Demeter. Athena. Artemis. Hera.

  Only twelve.

  Because Hestia had stepped down.

  And Dionysus had taken her place.

  My mind barely had time to register the weight of it all before Finn grabbed my arm. “No time to gawk, Athenian. You’ve got an audience.”

  I barely had time to ask what he meant.

  Then I saw it.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The main building.

  It towered over the camp, a structure of stone and wood and something older, something woven into its very foundation. Five stories tall. Older than any empire, yet unshaken.

  And in an instant, I felt it.

  This wasn’t just a headquarters.

  It was the heart of Camp Aegis.

  Finn caught my stunned expression and smirked. "Big, huh?"

  “That’s an understatement,” I muttered.

  “Come on.” He nodded toward the entrance. “Chiron’s waiting.”

  I froze. “Chiron?”

  “As in the Chiron? The centaur?”

  "You’ll see," Finn said, voice unreadable.

  I followed him inside, and immediately, the air changed.

  The ceilings weren’t just high—they were impossibly vast. Not to impress, not for luxury.

  For something massive.

  Something equine.

  Which was impossible.

  Because Chiron was dead.

  Then a figure stepped into view—

  And my world shattered.

  A centaur.

  Not just any centaur.

  The mentor of heroes. The healer. The legend.

  Chiron.

  I took a sharp step back. "Chiron?!"

  The name ripped out of me like I’d been holding it back for centuries.

  Because this wasn’t right.

  He should have been withered. Old. A ghost of himself, barely clinging to existence after giving up his immortality all those years ago.

  But he wasn’t.

  He stood before me, whole. Alive. Unchanged.

  As if he had never left.

  "I thought—" My words tripped over themselves. "I thought Heracles killed you! That’s what the myths say!"

  Chiron flinched. Not from anger, but from something deeper. Something wounded.

  "That, my dear boy," he said, voice carrying the weight of a thousand lifetimes, "was a myth."

  He studied me for a moment, unreadable. Then, finally—

  "And I believe we have more pressing matters to discuss, don’t we, Marcus?"

  Finn and Reed exchanged a glance before slipping away, leaving me alone with the dead immortal.

  Chiron’s gaze bore into me. “Tell me everything, Marcus. From the beginning.”

  So I did.

  Every detail. Every moment.

  I stitched the story together, painting the picture as best as I could.

  But as I spoke, a cold feeling crept over me.

  Something was missing.

  Just a small piece. Barely noticeable. But crucial.

  And somehow…

  I knew.

  That missing piece could change every

  thing.

  But no matter how hard I tried—

  I couldn’t remember.