I've always hated the quiet.
When you're stuck in a house full of kids who don't get you, the silence isn't peaceful—it's suffocating. The kind of silence that makes your thoughts loud and everything else feel a little too close to breaking. So, I stayed loud.
The air around the old foster house smelled like bleach and too many kids shoved into too small a space. I was one of those kids, the one who'd gotten lost in the shuffle. No mom. No dad. Just me, a kid who never really fit in. I wasn't one of those kids who'd been abandoned. Not technically, anyway. I was just... a mistake.
My mom, Layla, didn't get a choice. I never got to ask her about it. She died giving birth to me. The one thing she'd never wanted, and it killed her. That's all I ever knew about her. The rest of my story? It's just a blur of crammed rooms, shuffling through beds and clothes too big, living with strangers who were supposed to be "family."
But not really. None of them cared that I had these weird sparks flying around when I got too angry. Or that I could knock over a solid wood chair with just my bare hands. I was dangerous to them, and dangerous is a problem nobody wants to deal with.
I didn't care either. Not really. Because my big thing was proving I could make it through the world on my own. If that meant getting into random fights, being a smart mouth, and sticking it to the people who didn't get me, so be it.
The usual afternoon in the foster home was dragging. My hands were stuffed in my hoodie pockets, and I was leaning against the railing, looking out at the dull city street. Kids ran past, laughing, acting like they had everything figured out, but I wasn't interested in them. I was focused on something bigger.
The power inside me.
Lightning ran through my veins, and every time I felt that little jolt, I wondered what I could do with it. Every time I got too mad, sparks shot out, and the weird thing was... nobody saw it. I didn't understand why.
It was like there was something about me that didn't quite belong. Not in a sad, pitiful way. Just… different.
One afternoon, after I broke up a fight between some of the other kids, I found myself standing by the door to the back yard, looking up at the cloudy sky, wondering if my mom had ever felt the power I was starting to get a taste of.
I could feel it buzzing in the air around me. The energy. My blood. I didn't know where it came from, but I knew it was mine, and it felt like it could either destroy or save something.
I got lost in the thought when I heard a voice behind me.
"You should keep your hands to yourself, Ikenna."
I didn't flinch, but my heart skipped a beat when I turned around to see my foster mom standing in the doorway. She was watching me with a frown, arms crossed.
"Do you really want to cause another problem here?" she added, her voice sharp and tired.
I didn't answer. I didn't care enough to explain how I wasn't causing problems—I was just getting things done. But no one cared. No one ever cared. It didn't make a difference how much I tried to fight my way out of their expectations.
"You should be careful," she added quietly. "You don't know what kind of trouble you're getting into."
I stared at her for a long second. Was it just me, or did she know something? It felt like she was saying more than the words she was speaking. Like there was a truth buried in there.
But that was the thing about me—I wasn't big on following rules or listening to people who didn't get me. So, I nodded, shrugged, and walked out the door.
The first time I really realized I was different wasn't when I was seven, or even eight. It was when I was nine. That's when everything came crashing down on me.
I'd been messing around at the park again, testing my strength on the swings—just trying to see how high I could get before my feet left the ground completely. I had that same feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something was about to snap. That's when it happened.
The metal pole on the swing set... buzzed. It wasn't anything huge at first. Just a little shock, something that made my skin prickle. But then it was like a bolt of lightning hit it. A full-on surge of energy shot through my hand, and for a split second, the swing set hummed with static. The air crackled. Then, there was a loud crack.
I jumped back, almost falling as I watched the swing break off its hinges.
The whole thing collapsed like it was made of paper. I stared at the ruins, blinking, my heart pounding. The energy was still buzzing in my palms.
But nobody saw it.
No one else felt what I did.
Just me.
That was when I realized this wasn't normal. This wasn't some dumb kid throwing a tantrum.
I had something in me that didn't belong.
By the time I was twelve, I didn't have time to worry about what I didn't know. There were bigger things—things that were coming for me.
It started when a hellhound showed up at my foster home. One minute, I was standing in front of the door, my hands on my hips, daring anyone to mess with me. The next minute, I heard it—footsteps. Big, heavy, thumping footsteps.
I turned to face it and saw its eyes first—glowing red. Then the rest of it stepped into view. Its body was huge, bigger than anything I'd ever seen in real life.
It was coming straight for me.
And all I could think was: What the hell is this?
Before I could even think of a plan, it lunged. But I wasn't a kid anymore.
I was ready.
I barely had time to react before the hellhound was on me, its massive jaws snapping through the air like they were made to tear through bone and flesh. I didn't hesitate.
The moment the beast lunged, I raised my hands instinctively, and the power surged through me like it had been waiting all this time to break free. I didn't think about it. I just did what felt natural.
Lightning shot out from my hands, crackling through the air with the kind of force I hadn't even known I was capable of. The hellhound yelped as the bolt struck it, the energy so intense it knocked the beast back a few steps.
It wasn't enough.
The hellhound roared, its fur sizzling and smoking where the lightning had hit, but it wasn't finished. It recovered quicker than I expected, growling low in its throat, its claws scraping against the pavement as it charged again.
My heart was pounding in my chest, but a strange calm washed over me. I could feel the lightning in my blood, feeding off my emotions. The more scared I got, the more powerful it felt. And that was something I'd learned over the years: fear wasn't going to get me anywhere.
I was getting tired of running from things.
The beast lunged again, and I didn't wait. This time, I stepped forward, catching it off guard. My hands shot out, palms first, and another crackling bolt of lightning erupted from them, striking the hellhound square in the chest.
This time, it didn't recover.
The creature yelped, falling back onto its haunches before collapsing to the ground with a loud thud, its body sizzling where the lightning had fried it.
I stood there for a moment, my chest heaving, staring down at the beast I'd just taken out with my bare hands.
I was breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through my veins. But the second I realized the fight was over, the weight of what had just happened hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd killed a hellhound. And the thing that had made me do it? The raw power, the crackling energy that had surged through my veins?
It was mine.
The realization struck me deep.
I wasn't just some random kid. There was something bigger inside me. Something I couldn't explain, but that was more real than anything I'd ever felt before.
But that didn't make it any less terrifying.
I took a step back, eyes still on the hellhound's lifeless body. My hands were still trembling, but it wasn't fear anymore. It was something else—something I didn't know how to name.
A voice broke the silence.
"Well, that's one way to deal with it."
I spun around, my muscles coiled and ready for anything. But the voice wasn't from a monster. It was from a guy—someone I'd never seen before.
He stepped out from behind the corner of the house, grinning like he had just seen the most entertaining thing in the world.
"Pretty impressive, kid. I don't think I've seen anyone take out a hellhound like that before. Not with just their hands."
I blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. My eyes narrowed on him, trying to figure out who the hell this guy was.
He didn't look like someone from around here.
"You're... not from here," I muttered, taking a cautious step back.
He raised his hands in mock surrender, still smiling. "Nope. Name's Pan. I'm a satyr, and I'm here to help."
I didn't know what to say. The guy looked harmless enough, with his untidy brown hair and half-finished sandals, but there was something about him that set off my instinct. I hadn't trusted anyone in years. Not after the way things always turned out.
But there was no time to dwell on that. The hellhound was still dead on the ground, and this guy wasn't acting like he had just seen a monster drop out of nowhere. Like he expected it.
"You're a satyr?" I asked, still eyeing him suspiciously.
"Yep. Half-goat, half-man. Don't let the hooves throw you off," Pan said with another grin. "Anyway, kid, looks like you're more than just a regular troublemaker, huh?"
"I'm not a troublemaker," I snapped, but the words fell flat. I wasn't about to explain myself to him, especially since I had no idea who this person was, or how he knew what I had just done.
But he wasn't listening. Pan bent down to inspect the hellhound's body, casually poking at it with a stick. "So, you're the son of Zeus, huh?"
That hit me harder than the lightning I'd just thrown around.
The son of Zeus? What the hell was he talking about?
I stared at him in disbelief. "What did you just say?"
Pan didn't look up from the hellhound. "Son of Zeus. You've got the lightning. I've got a good eye for these things."
My breath caught in my throat. Zeus? King of the gods?
The man who was supposed to be my father, but who had never once acknowledged me?
A wave of anger and confusion surged through me, and I stepped toward him. "How the hell do you know that?"
Pan finally looked up, his expression softening. "Relax, kid. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you belong."
I took another step back, my body tense. "I belong here. I don't know who you think you are, but I don't need anyone—especially not someone claiming to know who my father is."
Pan chuckled. "You might not need anyone, but you've got someone watching over you, whether you like it or not. There's a camp. Camp Half-Blood. And you're gonna need to come with me."
Pan didn't wait for me to answer. Without a word, he dropped his stick, whistling sharply. The sound echoed down the empty street, and for a second, nothing happened.
Then, like something straight out of a dream, a figure appeared in the shadows—a large, winged creature, emerging from the trees.
It was a pegasus.
I froze, my eyes widening. I'd heard of creatures like this before, but to see one in person? The thing was huge, its white wings stretched wide like the spread of a storm cloud. It landed smoothly on the street, its hooves kicking up the dirt as it neighed, its bright blue eyes locked on me with an odd intensity.
Pan grinned at my reaction. "Thought that might get your attention."
I wasn't sure how to process the fact that a horse with wings had just appeared out of nowhere. But my head was still spinning from everything else that had been thrown at me.
The hellhound. Zeus. Pan.
"Wait," I said, shaking my head. "What do you mean 'Camp Half-Blood'? You're telling me there's a place for... people like me?"
Pan raised an eyebrow. "People like you? Kid, you're a demigod. Son of the king of the gods, no less. Yeah, there's a place for you, alright. A safe place. We don't want any more hellhounds showing up on your doorstep, do we?"
I opened my mouth to protest, to ask more questions, but nothing came out.
My entire life had been about hiding, about keeping my head down. I'd never asked for this power, this life. But now, suddenly, there were monsters in my backyard, and some stranger—no, some satyr—was telling me there was a whole camp full of people like me.
I felt lost.
And that was the last thing I wanted to feel.
"I don't need anyone," I said, more to myself than to him.
Pan didn't seem bothered by my resistance. He just nodded, his eyes understanding. "I get it. But you're gonna need to figure out how to control that lightning first, kid. Trust me, it's better to learn in a place where the monsters aren't trying to eat you for dinner."
I hesitated. I'd never been good at trusting strangers, let alone some half-goat guy who was talking like he knew everything about me. But there was something about the way he carried himself—calm, unshaken—that made me think he wasn't lying.
Still, part of me wanted to run. To stay hidden. To ignore it all.
But deep down, I knew that wouldn't work anymore.
The hellhound wasn't going to be the last monster to show up.
I took a deep breath and glanced at the pegasus again, its steady gaze meeting mine.
Fine.
I could at least hear him out.
"If I go with you," I said slowly, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me, "what happens then?"
Pan's grin widened, his eyes twinkling like he was about to share some great secret. "Then you'll learn how to fight. And maybe, just maybe, you'll figure out why all of this is happening to you. And if you're lucky, you won't have to deal with monsters every other day. But hey, no promises."
My mind was already reeling. I wasn't sure if I was ready for any of this, but in a way, I knew I didn't have much of a choice.
"Alright," I said, sighing. "Lead the way."
Pan gave a satisfied nod and, without another word, gestured for me to follow him. I hesitated for just a second, before taking a deep breath and stepping forward.
As I walked toward the pegasus, my heart was racing. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. But part of me—deep down—was eager to find out.