When I was eight, one of the Guardians decided I needed to learn how to fight with a weapon. A real one—not just dodging practice or basic drills. They handed me a staff.

  It was taller than me. I dropped it twice in the first ten minutes.

  The next day, they tried twin daggers. I liked them better—until I cut myself.

  Then came a sword. Too heavy. A bow. Too slow. A spear. I tripped over it.

  I was frustrated. Embarrassed. Everyone else seemed to just… know. But none of it felt right.

  That’s when Hector found me sitting behind the supply shed, arms crossed, weaponless.

  He didn’t say anything at first. Just set down his forge bag and started sorting pieces of scrap. After a while, he held something up—a pair of small, balanced blades shaped more like feathers than steel.

  “Try these,” he said. “Made them special. Not because they’re fancy. Because they’re light. Sharp. Fast. Just like you.”

  I held them, and for the first time, they felt like part of me.

  He didn’t smile, but he gave me a nod. “Sometimes the right weapon doesn’t shout. It just fits.”

  The flight from Oregon to Texas was uneventful. Just long enough for nerves to settle and adrenaline to fade. But I hated it. Something about flying in a metal box thousands of feet above the ground felt unnatural—restrictive. I’d rather have been in the air under my own power, wings stretched wide, the wind carrying me like it used to in my dreams. Flying should feel free. This just felt… caged.

  We sat near the back of the plane, tucked into two rows. It wasn’t like before—when we used to cram onto benches at the compound or lie in the grass under open sky. But it was a start.

  Nix had the window seat, of course. She sat quietly, gazing outside like the clouds held secrets only she could read.

  “Think Texas will be hotter than this plane?” Bay muttered from across the aisle, pulling one earbud free.

  Helena sat between us, braiding and unbraiding a single strand of her hair like she was tying her thoughts together. “Probably. At least we’ll be closer.”

  Closer to the boys. Closer to the twins. Closer to whatever was coming next.

  Bay sat across the aisle, headphones in, pretending to ignore us, but I could feel the edge of her thoughts pressing against mine—restless, excited. Nervous.

  “It’s weird,” I said. “Seeing you all again. It’s like we never left, but also… like everything’s different.”

  Nix didn’t look away from the window. “We were just kids. Now we’re not.”

  “We were more than kids,” Bay said without looking at us. “We were a team.”

  Silence followed. Not uncomfortable—just full.

  Helena smiled softly. “We still are.”

  I felt it then. The weight of it. What we’d lost. What we were trying to get back.

  “We’ll be okay,” I said, more to myself than them. “We’ve always been okay together.”

  Nix grinned, just barely, and held out her fist between us.

  “Demigods?”

  “Demigods,” we echoed, bumping fists, even Bay reaching across the aisle with a grin she tried to hide.

  And just like that, it felt like we’d never been apart.

  The flight touched down in northern Texas under a heavy sky. The sun was beginning to lower, but there was no wind, no warning—just heat and tension, waiting to break.

  We gathered our bags and headed toward the rental lot. Helena handled the paperwork while Bay circled the car twice like she didn’t trust it, and Nix quietly loaded our bags in the trunk. I slid into the passenger seat and took a deep breath.

  I could feel my mind stretching—not just from the travel, but from everything pressing inward. The goddess’s voice still echoed in my thoughts sometimes. The woman on Olympus. Her warnings. Her truths. I still didn’t know who they were.

  And Cole—he was out there. Always one step ahead. Always pulling strings we couldn’t see.

  Where were the guys now? Were they okay?

  I closed my eyes and focused.

  No projection. No body. Just thought.

  Can you hear me? I sent the words outward—not just to one mind, but to three. Bay. Nix. Helena.

  A light brush of surprise. A flicker of warmth. Recognition.

  Bay smiled faintly in the rearview mirror. “Show off.”

  I grinned. “Just testing this new ability—and making sure we’re still connected. You know, in case things get bad fast.”

  We’d been driving for hours, the road unrolling beneath our tires like a frayed ribbon of heat. The landscape had shifted slowly from the greener edges of the city into the dry, cracked stretch of nowhere. It was the kind of place where time felt stalled, where silence settled thick and the wind didn’t bother to blow.

  We were only thirty miles out when it hit.

  The road had curved into a stretch of flat, open land—sun-baked fields, desert brush, brittle grass that crunched underfoot. That’s when they came.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Monsters. Dozens. Maybe more. Crawling out from behind the rocks, bursting from behind dried-out tree husks, teeth gleaming, eyes glowing with hunger.

  We scattered and fell into formation without thinking.

  Bay cursed under her breath, short sword drawn, jaw clenched in frustration. “There’s no sea. No river. Not even a damn puddle.”

  She moved like she was dancing through molasses—still powerful, still trained, but fighting without the ocean was like cutting off a piece of her soul.

  Helena was no better. The land was all thorns and dust—no vines to summon, no flowers to command. She gripped her daggers tighter and kept close to Nix, her movements tight and defensive.

  “I can’t do much with desert shrubs,” she muttered, slashing one monster across the chest.

  Phoenix let out a sharp breath and raised her hands, summoning an army of skeletons from the dust and cracked earth around us. They burst from the ground like ancient soldiers, moving in sync with her will.

  Beside her, I shrugged off my jacket and launched into the sky, wings snapping wide as the air rushed past me. Up here, I could see everything—the scale of the fight, the shape of the enemy formations, the exhaustion already settling in across our lines.

  We were holding, but only just. Bay’s swings had slowed, her short sword dragging more with each motion. Helena was falling behind the skeletal line, her daggers a blur, but her expression strained. They were running out of steam—crippled by the lack of water, the lack of plants, the lack of anything familiar to pull from.

  Phoenix held the front, her skeleton army keeping the worst of the monsters at bay, but even she couldn’t stop the tide from circling. I did what I could from above, diving in and out, wings slicing through the air as I struck from height. It wasn’t enough. There were so many.

  Too many.

  We couldn’t last much longer.

  I soared higher and reached out with my mind, pushing past the noise of battle, the fear, the heat. Searching.

  There.

  A familiar presence.

  Xandor.

  So close I could almost see him.

  They’re near, I thought, sending my voice directly to the girls. The boys are just ahead—keep moving south. We meet them soon.

  Bay nodded without looking up. Helena adjusted course. Phoenix sent a fresh wave of skeletons to guard our flank.

  We pushed forward.

  Toward the reunion.

  Toward the fight that really mattered.

  The sun had begun to set, washing the sky in pink and orange as we fought our way forward. I banked hard above the battlefield, scanning the horizon—and there they were.

  The boys.

  They were already in the thick of it, fighting their own swarm of monsters in the distance. Peter’s blade was a blur, Damian’s laughter echoed through the chaos, Hector’s hammer swung like thunder, and at the center of it all—Xandor.

  My chest tightened.

  A flicker of movement caught my eye—something creeping behind him. Silent. Fast. One of the monsters, angling for his blind spot.

  Without thinking, I tucked my wings and dove.

  Wind howled past me. I hit the monster full-force, blades sinking deep. It dropped with a shriek and vanished into smoke just as Xandor spun around, weapon raised.

  His eyes met mine.

  “Hey,” I said, breathless and grinning. “Miss me?”

  A smile broke across Xandor’s face, the kind that reached his eyes, and it lit something inside me. But the moment passed quickly.

  “They’re right behind me,” I said. “The girls—chased by another wave. Bay and Helena are struggling. There’s no water, no plants. They’re getting overwhelmed.”

  Xandor’s expression shifted in an instant. He turned, yelling over the chaos, “Peter! I’m going to cover them—hold this line!”

  Peter gave a short nod without looking back.

  I grabbed Xandor’s arm and launched upward, letting the wind catch beneath my wings. He leaned into it, manipulating the air around us with practiced ease, and together we surged above the battlefield.

  The sun was gone now. The stars blinked through the darkening sky.

  This was his time.

  As we soared over the fray, I felt him tense beside me.

  “Drop me,” he said.

  I hesitated. “You sure?”

  He gave me a look.

  I let go.

  He dropped like a stone for half a heartbeat, then slowed, riding the wind with precision. He twisted in the air, lashing out with bursts of controlled gusts and slicing wind currents that tore through the monsters below.

  I turned and shot back toward the girls, finding them locked in combat just past a ridge. Nix fought near them, holding the rear with skeletal reinforcements, but they were being pushed back.

  “This way!” I shouted, slicing down another monster as I cleared a path. “The boys are just ahead!”

  They didn’t ask questions.

  We fell into formation—me, Xandor, and Nix leading the front, blades flashing and wind roaring, as Helena and Bay struggled through the chaos behind us. Bay’s blade was slick with dust and sweat, her arms trembling from the strain. Helena moved with fierce precision, her daggers finding gaps between bones and shadows, but even she looked worn, breathing hard.

  Nix conjured more skeletons to plug the gaps in our line as we slowly pushed through the encroaching horde. My wings beat furiously above the fight, driving me forward, while Xandor moved like a force of nature—slicing through the monsters with crescents of air and sweeping gusts that cleared the path ahead. Starlight shimmered along his shoulders, drawn down from the sky above. He wielded it like a blade, precise and radiant, using the stars’ focus to strike harder, move faster, and burn through the dark like a falling comet.

  Together, blow by blow, step by bloody step, we fought our way back to the others.

  The two groups of demigods collided like tides converging—eight of us now, back to back, shoulder to shoulder. The moment we came together, everything shifted. We weren’t struggling anymore. We were fighting.

  From the sky, I saw them all clearly.

  Peter fought with cold precision, his chainblade flashing like lightning. He moved with deliberate intent, eyes constantly scanning, reading the battlefield like it was a puzzle only he could solve—and he was solving it. Even while striking down monsters, he called out directions to the rest of us—shouting for Nix to cover the right flank, warning Hector of a gap near his side, guiding Bay and Helena back into formation. No monster made it through the middle of our line—not on Peter’s watch.

  Damian danced through the fight, twin swords slicing in graceful arcs. He laughed even as he moved, a blur of silver and confidence, his energy rippling through us like a heartbeat. He didn’t just fight—he elevated us.

  Hector stood like a wall, his hammer smashing down in thunderous blows. He didn’t move much—but when he did, it was devastating. He was the anchor. Our foundation.

  Xandor flowed between gusts of wind and streaks of starlight, his spear catching the air like it was alive. Every motion had purpose. The wind obeyed him. The stars guided him. He fought like dusk incarnate—swift, powerful, and unrelenting.

  Nix conjured death like it was poetry—skeletons swirling around her, responding to the tilt of her hand, the focus in her eyes. Her calm was unnerving, her precision terrifying. She moved with the silence of the grave and struck with its finality.

  Helena stayed close to Bay, her daggers weaving defensive patterns between the two of them. She was steady, her breathing measured, cutting only when it counted. Every motion held intent. Every slash meant something.

  Bay fought like the tide, even without her ocean. She pushed through the exhaustion with grit alone, her sword carving open a path she had no business holding. And still—she did.

  And me? I was the sky.

  Above them all, guiding, watching, cutting from the air. We were a storm now. Unified. Unstoppable.

  The monsters didn’t stand a chance.

  The battle ended with a final cry from the last monster, its body dissolving into ash beneath Damian’s final swing. A heavy silence settled over the field—punctuated only by the sound of labored breathing and the soft thud of weapons hitting the ground.

  We were exhausted. Bloody. Bruised. But we were alive.

  And we were together.

  The weight of that hit me as I touched down beside the others. Hugs passed between us like lifelines—tight, trembling, full of laughter that bubbled out in relief. Bay leaned into Helena, both of them shaking their heads and smiling like they couldn’t believe we’d actually made it. Nix’s expression didn’t change much, but her eyes softened as Damian threw an arm around her shoulder.

  I landed beside Xandor, dust settling around my boots.

  He turned to me, something quiet and warm in his eyes. “Nice to finally see you in the flesh,” he said.

  Then he pulled me into a hug.

  Not a quick one. Not rushed. It was grounding, steady, solid—the kind of hug that said: We made it. We’re not alone.

  And for the first time in years, I believed it.