Helen

Never in my almost thirteen years of living did I think I'd be part of a bunch of half-gods. And the thought of having to work with them? That never even crossed my mind. Just imagine being stuck in a room with one big, sweaty kid... yeah. Now multiply that by 60. Maybe. Wait… how many people are here again? Is it necessary for me to keep track of these things? 

 I kept going back and forth, counting the number of people over and over again while that one guy from the Athena cabin continued to shout orders at us. When I glanced to my right, I saw the Hypnos cabin snoring soundly in the corner, sprawled out in every position imaginable. I mean, I don't blame them. That was 2 hours of our lives we will never get back, 15 minutes of which was spent on the dude having to explain to the Hypnos kid about the "oblique order" and "phalanx" and some other concepts I couldn't remember. 

 I know that ADHD and dyslexia wasn't to blame for whatever's happening here, but I can be very biased , so the answer is no, it wasn't my fault that I couldn't focus on the entirety of the thing even though I'm the child of the all-mighty goddess of wisdom.

 What should I do...? I asked myself, knowing full well my brain wasn't going to come up with anything useful. Maybe I can... uh... play pretend? Not fall asleep? Yes, not falling asleep seems useful.

 I rubbed my eyes hard, trying to stay awake, and tightened my ponytail, gearing up to maybe be even slightly helpful. I was going to try and be part of the conversation, but my first-class seat ticket was taken by the girl from Demeter's cabin. Lauren, right? I couldn't really remember.

 She squeezed her hands together, took a deep breath, and then yelled over the noise. "Can you PLEASE just shut up? And by the gods, you're hopeless."

 "Okay," Nebby said, disappointingly. I was hoping for something more like, "Hey, don't fight and let's get it over with." It was still really refreshing having all this tension killed off in time. And now I can say for sure: she's in the "looks like they could kill you, is a cinnamon roll" category. Like, although there was almost absolutely no proof, I still felt like my hypothesis was correct. But it still didn't explain why she uses this really odd language in almost every sentence she says to me, though.

 That single "Okay" pretty much did the trick. As soon as she said it, everyone just shut up. Honestly, it was a relief—it was getting kind of heated in here, and the chattering made it even hotter.

 Unfortunately, the peace and quiet didn't last long. There's always someone who has to mess up a perfectly good moment. Socially inept people just can't help themselves, can they?

 "See? Even the wheat-head over there agrees." The Athena boy from before—my own brother—just had to stir things up even more.

 "Excuse me? Wheat-head?" Lauren snapped back, glaring with narrowed eyes. "Y-You son of a bi-" 

 "Ay, ay, ay!" Emelie quickly shoved herself between the two, cutting off their argument before it could turn into a full-blown fight. She stood there with her arms out, ready to keep them apart if she had to.

 Then, BAM. A barrage of complaints erupted from the triggered Demeter kids. I take it back: I do feel bad for my counselor. Clearly, not having a social life is taking a toll on his SQ. And then, after a while, the other cabins got super annoyed with my side of the family-tree too and decided to fan the flames. 

 To be completely honest, I wasn't paying attention when it all went down (the Tyche kid, who was ridiculously named Kai, next to me offered me some gum, and I couldn't say no due to my sugar addiction). But from what I gathered, the counselor must have said something offensive again. This was convincing me that children of Athena are social wrecks—either too irritating or too awkward—that just happened to be smart.

 "How are you even here in the first place? You idiots ruined the finale last year with your 'marvelous' plan!"

 "It wasn't our fault that you were all too incompetent! If I remember correctly, you tried talking to an apple while we were having the meeting!" 

 "Can we please just try to get along? We have a game this afternoon!" Emelie groaned. "And again, just shut up, Michael. Your cabin is not helping at all." 

 "Well, you try pulling an all-nighter planning this whole thi-!"

 "CUT IT OUT, OWL-FACE! You don't know half of what we go through."

 You know it's bad when she starts picking sides, and I barely even know her. I thought we at least respected each other's cabins since she practically rescued us from the manticore. 

 "Do you really think we'll trust you people?" She spat, clearly fed up. "Do you even know how hard it is to walk around in broad daylight and have everyone staring a hole in the back of your head? Yeah. You try."

 Everything that followed was a blur, but it didn't take too long for me to get back to focus and find myself in the middle of two furious sides.

 Why are my teammates standing in combat mode? 

 Before you say anything, I need to remind you, I'm new here. And I mean new new. The I-never-even-knew-about-this-place new.

 "C'mon, owl-face. If you're as smart and strong as you say, then fight me." Emelie's eyes narrowed as she unsheathed her sword. "Bark all you want, but let's see if you can actually bite, Michael."

 My dear child, there is no need for bloodshed. Your counselor is the one at fault… The voice in my head murmured. Look, I know that I shouldn't blame anyone right now, but… wait a minute, let me reply to this person real quick before they get all upset.

 Who are you? Spoiler alert, I didn't get an answer. Well, talk about being ghosted.

 Maybe I should… nevermind. But first, let me clean up the mess our dumb counselor spilled. Time to switch into assertive mode. I know, I know, it wasn't entirely his fault, but I was too peeved not to blame someone, so I just stuck with the most obvious person.

 "I am sorry on behalf of my roommates." My face must've been really funny back then. "Very sorry. Ahem, can we just… um… make a truce? I do know how hard it is to take the blame and I know that just a 'sorry' won't do so I'll try to make up to you and your cabin, okay?" 

 "And what would you do? The chores? Well, sorry to burst your bubble but I don't think so," the Hephaestus guy grunted. Bold of him to underestimate my ability to wash dishes. 

 Anyway, back to the point: Oh no. Double oh no. I didn't mean it that way. Uh… did I just make things worse? Oh no.

 Another girl stepped towards me and clicked her tongue. "How 'bout you do us a favor, [censored]? Stop pretendin' like you're a saint. You don't even have a real reason for us to trust you, except for that one line, 'my mom's Athena, so I must be smart,' that you always use."

 "Melissa," a stern voice interrupted. It was Emelie, of course, here to save the day again with her hands on her hips. She would've been a stereotypical mom friend, if she wasn't so short. "She knows nothing about this."

 "Well, she sure acts like she does."

 "I… can give you my plate of dessert tonight if you hear us out?" My very last safe option. Hope I didn't mess this up again cause I do not wanna be blackmailing people on my second day.

 "Who cares about dessert?"

 "It has peanut butter in it." 

 "I'm allergic to peanuts."

 "Ah, yes. Uh…"

 This was not going the way I intended it to be. I couldn't give them a solid argument with any reasoning and explanations (and people know that those are mandatory in arguments) because anything I said would sound like a cliché or just an excuse. I didn't want to resort to blackmail (not that I had any dirt on them) or dark psychology tricks either. 

 I dug into my pockets, hoping to find something worth bargaining with. It took a while since my pockets were filled with dirt from those days of training (props to poor Kai next to me who ended up with my random pocket junk in his lap). 

 Dirt. Sand. Candy wrapper. Grass? Why would there be grass in my pocket? Forget it. Something that felt like melted chocolate. And there it was! My fingers found a cold piece of metal with sharp edges. I quickly took it out, but my heart sank when I saw the red splattered across its surface, covering its glossy, smooth finish.

 Frick. I totally forgot. I dug back into my bag and fished out a broken phone. The screen was cracked and shattered, probably from one of those times I tripped with my shoelaces untied. Dang it.

 Oh no. I can't fix it like this…

 I pried the screen off the phone—it was pretty easy since it was already peeling away. Inside, the chip looked brand new and the little metal thingies (I didn't know what to call them, okay?) were ready to go. I waved it around in front of the Hephaestus kids, who immediately stopped when they saw the shiny metal.

 "Hephaestus, god of… forging, yes, and fire ," I stuttered. "If you're into, um, this sort of thing—phones, I mean—would you and your crew be interested in trading your skills and, uh, cooperation for this iPhone? It's one of those models that hasn't been released to the public yet. The screen's cracked, but the back's only got a few scratches, and it's this really cool ultramarine blue from grinding lapis lazuli. I promise I'm not trying to scam you or anything. So um… okay? Yeah? Okay."

 The next hour was super quiet. It was kind of weird, like time had slowed down and everyone was just waiting for someone to say something. It felt like they didn't believe me, so I hastily added, "Well, I'm rich." 

 It took a bit longer than I expected for everyone to wrap their heads around what I said. You could see they really wanted to check out that piece of metal. 

 "Why do you even have a pho—?"

 "Just zip it, Mel. And you, hand it over." The Hephaestus counselor snatched the iPhone out of my hand and shuffled away gleefully.

 Got them. That's what they're into, huh? At least I finally got something about them right.

 "So, there's that," I muttered as I politely asked for the papers from my cabin's counselor. "Cabin 19, stand back and, you know, gamble or something. Cabin 14 … uh… maybe just run around a bit, and… Dio- Cabin 12, uh, phay-la-"

 "Phalanx."

 "Yeah, that. Next…"

 Huh. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Now, all we have to do is wait. And practice, of course. And force the others to spy for us too, of course. Note to my future-self: Practice a lot. If you lose, both you AND I will not be happy.

***

 The conch horn sounded in the distance, which means I have only 5 more minutes to get my act together. Once you get used to it, the deep, harmonious tone blends in with the lively chatter of the spectators. The whole camp was buzzing with competition. Even though most campers were playing, the 5 Nike kids weren't, but for a good reason too—I'd be pretty annoyed by their constant need to win. I felt kind of bad for them missing out, but it was probably for the best. They did add the atmosphere nicely, along with the others lining up by the sidelines. I could actually write an entire essay on how beautiful this whole thing is but because I am dyslexic and because she (yes, you, dear editor) just won't let me. 

 I strapped on the cool combat boots I saw everyone else wearing. I fumbled a bit with my armor—struggled, then finally got it on—before putting on my helmet and attaching the communication gear. Annabeth had given me a whole lecture on how to get this all right, but honestly, I couldn't remember any of it. I forget things way too often. Maybe it's not just ADHD messing with my memory; maybe it's early-onset dementia. Seriously, I'm too old for the battlefield or school. But when I think about it, I'd probably never be able to sleep at night if I didn't graduate with honors from a gifted program, get a medical degree from Harvard, find an actual cure for cancer, and teach gorillas how to build their own civilization. And yes, this was planned out from the age of 5.

 I polished my dagger with some random fabric I found lying around. It wasn't a fancy knife or anything, but after giving it a little bit of attention like the good person I am, the bronze blade gleamed like something straight out of a horror movie. Since I was the one using it, I guess that made me the "murderer"—not that I was planning to hurt anyone or anything. 

 I glanced around, taking in my surroundings before sneaking a look at my teammates. Emelie seemed okay, hopefully not still upset about the little fight our cabins had this morning. I felt bad about it, but it'd be kinda weird to give her a random heartfelt apology now. Nebby stood next to me, already done with the warmups. Her face was paler than ever, but at least she wasn't giving me the cold shoulder anymore. It didn't scare me as much now since I was pretty sure she's actually a softie. But I'm keeping that theory to myself—no need to risk being stabbed in my sleep. Nebby may be a softie, but she's a dangerously sharp one.

 The conch horn blared again, snapping me out of my thoughts. 5 minutes left to get into position. We scrambled to get into place. If our spies were right and Blue Team is sticking to their usual roles, this match would be a piece of cake. The Ares Cabin might be a bit hotheaded, though—I've heard they can be pretty unpredictable. But with Cassandra likely in charge, I doubted she'd let them go off-script nor will she go easy on them. She would make a great dictator, to be honest. Hopefully, she doesn't get rejected from art school, because we all know how that ended up last time with that one dude with the funny mustache. 

 As for leadership on the Red Team, we don't have anyone in charge, really. I had thought I'd settle with the fact that the Athena counselor was going to be the leader, but seeing how clueless he was today made me rethink my life choices. We're pretty much going with a meritocracy political system, and wow, why am I bringing politics into a game? Anyway, the more people you take down, the more praise you get, and the flag-capturer gets the most recognition – but no monarchs here. Everyone starts on equal footing and works their way up, because there's no way I'm dealing with communism. 

 And there's one thing that's been bugging me ever since my chat with Rachel some time ago. If you really listen, you can hear the faint ticking of a clock somewhere. I can't see it, and maybe I'm just imagining it, but it's there. 

 Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock… 

 Suddenly, the ticking just... stopped. I fidgeted with my earlobes, trying to catch that nagging sound again, but before I could, the conch horn gave one final, low sound. The game had begun. My adrenaline kicked in as we got ready to set our plan in motion.

 It felt like time had frozen for a moment, but when we snapped back to reality and remembered our plan, we quickly sprang into action. While some of the team scattered, climbing trees or hiding in various nooks, most of us remained behind, divided into 4 groups. Nebby and I ended up in the same one—the attackers. The others were up front, taking a few steps every few minutes, their rows packed tight and spears raised high. 

 The Phalanx tactic wasn't too hard to grasp, and it wasn't hard to figure out too. It was a defense strategy mastered by the Spartans we'd learned in History class that I failed to remember until now. Cabin 6's main strategy was to follow the Phalanx method, but with a twist—combining it with the "oblique order." Real fancy, I know, but I assure you, it's rather simple once you get the hang of it. 

 Basically, we would split our defense into thirds: the first two lines would advance slightly, creating a gap between them and the third line. This would make it seem like they were gaining more ground and technically 'winning', but the game would be in our favor instead. The idea was for the inner team, closest to my flag, to flank one of Ares' group through that opening. According to Nebby, their cabin was the only one attacking, so their defense was going to be more intense than I expected. After telling me all that, however, she vanished from sight, leaving me alone. I have to admit, I was pretty surprised—and impressed—by how easily she melted into the shadows. That skill might come in handy someday, if I can remember it, of course.

 I whirled around, already sweating like crazy from the heat. I've never been a fan of P.E. and I probably never will be. It's just one of those things that you have to deal with, even though you'd rather be anywhere else. Now, I just have to tough it out and get out there, right? Just grit my teeth and push through. My grip on the dagger started to slip, and for a moment, I panicked. Then I remembered I could just wipe my sweaty hands on my shirt. I quickly dried my palms, adjusted my grip, and took a deep breath.

 You can do this. 

 I puffed up my chest, trying to settle my busy mind so I could focus better. I needed to focus, but my brain had other ideas, throwing everything at me all at once. 

 Breathe in… Breathe out… Bre– Oh shoot, I'm late. 

 My whole body tensed up. My team was nowhere to be found, and my cabin was already marching ahead without me. I hurried to catch up with them, even though I'm almost 100% sure that my running was wrong. Okay, I am now second guessing myself for something so minor that no one would even notice.

 And now, the other team was racing towards us, moving so fast it seemed like they weren't even breaking a sweat. Their bulky armor didn't slow them down at all. Great, just great. That must be Cabin 5.

 Honestly, I couldn't help but picture them as giant bulldogs that thrive on chaos and battle for some twisted reason. I'm sure there's more to them than just being relentless warriors in human form, but right now, that's the image that makes the most sense.

 I couldn't feel my heartbeat, so that means my stress hormones haven't maxed out yet. Adrenaline and cortisol are key players in the fight-or-flight response. Cortisol dumps glucose into our bloodstream, giving us an immediate energy boost, while adrenaline speeds up our pulse and helps oxygen reach our muscles faster, so we can either fight or run away from danger. It also sends extra oxygen to the brain, improving decision-making and sharpness.

 I'd love to say that those amazing qualities stress offers above applies to me, but unfortunately, it really doesn't. My brain turns to mush when I'm stressed — I wouldn't be able to improvise in the slightest bit or remember any survival skills — and I'd probably dip the very second I see someone brandish a weapon.

 This time was different. This was what I'd be doing for the rest of my life, so I might as well roll with it. Today, I'd be putting my skills to the test. I fixed my gaze on the blurry figures in the distance, letting out some awkward battle cries as I charged into the fray. They were lunatics, sure, but they were skilled lunatics. Let's see if the plan actually works out, shall we?

 Also, one more thing, Nebby—didn't you say their defense would be good? Because I'm not seeing any of them right now. I squinted, trying to spot any of their defense team, but all I could see was the empty field. It was like they'd just disappeared. And to make things worse, their number of attackers seems to have doubled—way too many to be just one cabin.

 "Well, this is... unexpected," Michael said from behind me. I nodded, knowing that anything I might say right now would just turn into an awkward stutter. 

 I decided to break away from the main group along with some other people, moving off in a different direction - west - to try and get a better view of the situation and eliminate possible distractions and enemies. Hiding behind a crowd wasn't the smartest move on a battlefield. Hiding in the trees wasn't much better so it was best to avoid them. Who knows what might reach out and grab you in the darkness? 

 I really wanted to be stealthy, but there were a couple of things that made it almost impossible. For one, I didn't want to risk getting ambushed in some out-of-the-way spot where nobody could find me - for example, trees. Plus, the grass beneath my feet was so brittle that each step made a loud snap. I couldn't just leave the others on their own. I knew they'd find a way to mess things up if I did—especially Michael.

 Most of my fighting instincts came from Esmé, who used to play Roblox Bedwars with me. We'd split up, with her taking the rooftops and me hiding in the trees. I remember one time when we tried to ambush Red team at their own base—she'd shoot people off the bridges while I'd jump down to join the fight. We'd always win and it was fun, but now's not the time to be thinking about that. 

 But with her on the other side, I'm pretty sure she won't be cutting me any slack. I could already imagine her bringing in her A-game, just like she always does. I'd better be ready for an arrow aimed straight at my head. 

 Now that I had a clear view of the situation, I saw a head bobbing in the water, and off to the side, someone was crouched behind a tree trunk, their eyes darting around cautiously as they scanned the surroundings. 

 So, there's the defense team Nebby was talking about. I'd been getting a bit freaked out, imagining that someone might suddenly jump out from the shadows and bite my head off. It was a relief to see them in such a bad spot instead of some creepy surprise attack.

 I reached for the knife from the sheath strapped to my belt. The leather was a bit worn from all the use, and the belt felt snug around my waist. My breaths were shallow, but I tightened my grasp on my weapon and readied myself to move forward. 

 "Psst." 

 I whipped around, my eyes narrowing. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed by, missing me by less than an inch. The rush of air from its speed brushed my cheek, and I instinctively ducked, searching for the source.

 Then I saw it—a pine tree. And a suspiciously tall one too. Someone was probably hiding up there. Not the wisest idea, but plausible.

 I backed away cautiously, my eyes still on the tree, before turning and sprinting off. My heart pounded in my chest as I dashed through the underbrush, my mind racing to formulate a plan. Branches and leaves slapped against my face, but I barely noticed. The only thing that mattered was putting distance between myself and that archer. 

 You can't get caught, you can't get caught, you can't get caught…

 And then… oomph. I ran straight into something as hard as a brick and stumbled back, trying to catch my breath.

 Before I knew it, my blade was pressed against his throat and my hand was squeezing his right wrist to prevent any stabs coming my way. Look, I was genuinely freaked out—I had no clue it was him or that he was actually on my side, okay? But when you think about it, holding a knife to someone else's windpipe is just horrible etiquette. 

 "Kai?" I glanced back at him, and it was him alright. I couldn't see his expression properly under that humongous helmet that was just too big for his head, but I was pretty sure that he was downright confused. "Oh, I'm sorry about that." 

 I loosened my grip on his wrist, which was turning a purplish blue, and quickly apologized once again. Cyanosis—a classic sign of hypoxia. Hypoxia is when tissues don't get enough oxygen because something or someone blocks the bloodstream to that area or the blood simply doesn't have enough oxygen. I swear, if I ever make an amateur mistake like squeezing someone too hard and end up killing them, I'll never eat ice cream ever again, which is a death sentence by itself. My sugar addiction has gotten way too out of control. (When will the government make a rehabilitation center for sugar addicts?) 

 "Ow. Okay, okay, don't do that." If you're wondering how we met, you're in for a surprise. So basically, he took one look at me and decided he was going to adopt me. I was pretty okay with being collected like a Pokemon, so friendship was established. Simple as that. Still, it's not like I don't trust him, but I don't trust him enough to let him get away with sneaking up on me like that, even though we were both on the same team. 

 Right after, he grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me aside for a 'talk,' but I shoved him away. Just because we had a lengthy discussion about North Korea's potential to wreck the world during lunch doesn't mean you get to keep the conversation going. 

 Instead, I blurted out the most random nonsense I could think of to distract him as I made my escape.

 "Oh, look! A birdie!" Not that it mattered—there was clearly no bird in sight. 

 As he fell for my obvious bluff (I figured he did since he didn't chase after me or anything), searching for a nonexistent bird, I took the chance to slip away. With that distraction out of the way, it was time to figure out how to snag the flag. I quickly scanned the area, looking for where it might be hidden and if anyone was keeping watch. The plan? Simple. Grab the flag while everyone's distracted and make a clean getaway before anyone notices. And if I encounter Kai again, and he tries to have another chat with me in the middle of the battlefield, just throw my boot in his face. There. Good job, Helen!

 I saw the archer over there, so their base had to be in that direction. The pieces clicked into place. I sneaked over to a tall pine, and there it was—a royal blue flag, fluttering in the middle of a pine clearing. Five soldiers guarded it, each with a gigantic wooden shield. I was pretty sure there were more archers around, so just rushing in wasn't an option.

 I pressed a few buttons on my communication device, hoping for a response. After a moment of static, a voice came through.

 "Phase 1 complete. Blue Team is closing in on the left flank. We need reinforcements ASAP. The main attack team is progressing towards Point B. Over."

 "H-hey—" I started to say, but was cut off by a burst of static. I tried to clear the signal, adjusting the dial and pressing the buttons, but the crackling persisted. It was clear that the connection was unstable, and I struggled to get my message through. "Frick." 

 I shook my head, biting my lip. Our defense was falling apart. We can't let the Ares Cabin pull off any more Blitzkrieg attacks. 

 Out of nowhere, the forest erupted into chaos. Yells and battle cries echoed as enemies charged from behind the trees, tossing knives and firing arrows at our swordsmen. The sound of arrows clattering off bronze armor mixed with the screams of teammates hit by the projectiles. It was a full-on scramble; some arrows found their targets, piercing skin and causing mayhem all over. I had to act fast.

 Kai sprang out from his hiding spot, launching bronze marbles from his slingshot with pinpoint accuracy. With a fierce shout, he charged into the fray, dagger flashing in his hand. I had always thought slingshots were one of the dumbest weapons, but it was working out for him, at least. 

 I thought our plan was working when a few demigods—hopefully archers—jumped down from the trees. But then everything started to crumble. Arrows kept flying, and more enemies emerged from behind the trees, their shields blocking our every move. I had to get that flag, no matter what.

 It's not that hard. Just stand up and get the flag.

 Amidst the chaos, I sprinted toward their flag. As soon as my fingers wrapped around it, a searing pain erupted in my forearm. I glanced down to see an arrow embedded in my arm, the shaft jutting out. The shock nearly made me stumble, but I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay upright. Dark crimson trickled steadily from the wound's edge, meaning no major arteries were hit. With a grimace, I held back from pulling the arrow out; that would just cause more pain and unnecessary bleeding. Instead, I slashed off half of the arrow shaft, leaving the rest intact.

 I looked up at the small tree just behind the flag. Through the leaves, I glimpsed a pair of pale blue eyes, but they disappeared as the branches rustled. In that moment, a fresh wave of pain surged through my calf, adding to the throbbing in my heel. A dagger sliced through my skin and I let out an agonized shriek. This was bad. I dropped the flag, realizing my mistake—this was a serious miscalculation.

 "STOP, DAR! SOMEONE STOP DAR BEFORE HE—CHIRON!" A familiar voice cut through the chaos just before a heavy thud echoed. I squinted through my tear-blurred vision, cursing my timing. Blood pulsed from the wound in my thigh, each heartbeat sending a fresh spurt. That slice had definitely hit a peripheral artery. I gave my attacker a dramatically hurt frown. Firstly, rude. Secondly, I could die, which is not cool.

 Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Esmé with her hands around the guy's throat, hurling insults and death threats. Yes, threats, not bluffs. His weapon was aimed directly back at his neck, its deadly tip a hair's breadth from piercing his skin. He looked… genuinely scared now, and he had looked so menacing just a second ago. He didn't seem like the type to try to kill someone yesterday at the campfire, but I guess judging from impressions wasn't accurate enough from the start. 

 I felt myself being lifted, wincing as the sharp pain from the huge gash in my thigh. Esmé stayed close, supporting my left side as she guided me back to the bench. I really appreciate that she cares so much for my well-being, but it also just makes me feel even more incompetent when I mess up.

 "I swear, the next time I see him, I'm going to rip his head off," she murmured, her frustration barely contained. As she spoke, she uncorked a vial and carefully tipped it toward my lips. I might have criticized her for the choking hazard—giving fluids to someone half-awake—if I wasn't on the verge of passing out from blood loss. The golden liquid flowed into my mouth, carrying the sweet, familiar taste of... Mom's pomegranate juice.

 I felt a ripping sensation from my arm, which, to my surprise, didn't hurt at all. Maybe the adrenaline was working overtime. 

 The wound on my calf was starting to heal, though my leg still felt like jelly. The skin began stitching itself back together, covering up the exposed flesh. The raw edges closed up, leaving behind only a faint reddish scar. It was almost magical, and the pain faded, replaced by a tingling sensation. Even with the healing, my leg still felt weak, like it couldn't fully support my weight. I flexed my foot gingerly, expecting another wave of pain, but nothing happened. Nothing made sense anymore, but I had given up on normality a while ago. 

 I glanced at Esmé, expecting to see her strained expression, but something strange caught my eye. Was she glowing pink? I blinked and looked again; the pinkish hue was still there, like an aura. Was it a trick of the light or some kind of magic? I had no idea, but it was definitely weird. I kept watching, mesmerized and a bit freaked out, as the soft pink glow pulsed gently around her.

 "Helen, what's with the stare?" Esmé asked, still busy wrapping the bandage around my scar, even though it had long stopped bleeding. "Is something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

 "You're all pink. And your hair is straightening up somehow," I pointed out, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. "I… think you're getting claimed."

 "Aphrodite…?" Another guy suddenly appeared out of nowhere, staring in shock. Then, he started kneeled down to the ground with a fist crossed on his chest.

 "Yeah, ri—" She glanced down at her arms, her eyes going wide as she saw the pinkish glow. "GAH! WHY AM I PINK?!"