As we stumbled off the bus-train, disoriented from the witches' chaotic driving, dawn's thin fingers of light stretched through the dense, brooding forest.
Ancient trees surrounded us, their twisted limbs forming a canopy that whispered secrets in the wind. Jace, my only real friend in this strange world of gods and monsters, turned to the group. "Stick close," he muttered. "And keep your guard up."
The other kids huddled together, a mix of toddlers and teenagers, eyes darting warily through the gloom. The satyrs, their supposed guardians, scanned the trees like they expected something to lunge at us any second.
Jace leaned toward me. "That feeling in your gut? The cold sweat? It's an enchantment—designed to ward off intruders. But don't let it shake you. We're almost there."
His words should have reassured me. Instead, my pulse hammered harder.
Minutes passed in uneasy silence. The crunch of leaves beneath our feet and the occasional nervous breath were the only sounds. Then, through a break in the trees, I saw it.
A towering wooden gate, taller than the pines themselves. Carved into the arch overhead, glowing golden in the dim light, were the words:
CAMP EMPYREAN.
The entrance shimmered, its surface wrapped in living vines that pulsed with an eerie energy, as if the forest itself guarded the threshold. It was beautiful—but something about it felt more like a barrier than a welcome.
Then—a laugh.
A girl's giggle cut through the uneasy quiet.
I turned, unease twisting in my gut. The girl in question—someone I hadn't noticed before—stood in the middle of our group, grinning.
Then she laughed again, but this time it was different.
Wrong.
The sound cracked, raw and guttural, twisting from amusement into something hungry. Her spine arched unnaturally, her arms lengthening, fingers clawing at the air as her skin rippled like water.
The illusion shattered.
Where a girl had stood, a monster now crouched.
A Sphinx.
Her head was still that of a woman—but twisted, bestial, her golden eyes filled with cruel amusement. Tawny fur covered her massive body, sleek and powerful like a lioness. Enormous black wings unfurled from her back, their razor-edged feathers gleaming in the dim light.
The air turned electric with fear.
Chaos erupted.
Screams tore through the group as kids scattered, some tripping over their own feet, others frozen in sheer terror. The satyrs sprang into action, herding the youngest toward the gates, but the Sphinx was already moving.
She prowled forward, deadly and deliberate.
One of the satyrs flung up his hands, summoning thick vines from the earth. They shot toward the Sphinx's legs, coiling around her like snakes—
She shredded them with a single swipe.
I spun, heart hammering. Where were they? The gods. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades—those arrogant deities who had practically begged me to choose them after Mat's death. They'd dragged me into this mess. Where were they now?
A scream.
I turned just in time to see the oldest satyr fall. He had been carrying a little girl—maybe five years old—and now he lay bleeding on the forest floor.
The girl scrambled away, sobbing.
The Sphinx's golden gaze locked onto her.
My stomach dropped.
"NO!" I yelled, the sound strangling in my throat as the Sphinx lunged forward, her jaws opening wide. I bolted after her, adrenaline surging, but I was too slow. In a sickening moment, I saw the creature's jaws clamp down, severing the girl's head with a horrifying crunch that echoed in my ears. The monster's mouth was stained with blood as she swallowed, her eyes flashing with renewed vigor as her body seemed to grow, expanding with each horrible bite.
Her limbs stretched, her wings widened. The power of the kill fed her.
Nausea twisted my insides. I wanted to move, to scream, to do something—but I was frozen.
The scene around me was chaos, pure and unrestrained. Some of the satyrs were still trying to usher the remaining children through the gate, while others fought to hold off the Sphinx.
The warriors from inside the camp finally arrived, charging toward the Sphinx, their silver blades gleaming. They moved with precision, trained fighters armed with maces, crossbows, and weapons I didn't even recognize.
But the Sphinx was stronger now.
Her wings unfurled violently, sending out a shockwave of wind. The nearest warrior flew backward, slamming into a tree with a sickening crack.
Another fighter lunged, a curved dagger flashing. The Sphinx sidestepped, her claws raking across his chest, ripping through armor like paper.
Blood hit the dirt.
Panic swallowed me whole. I was useless here. I had no weapons, no training—
And still, no gods.
They had claimed me. Chosen me. Made me their pawn.
But when I needed them most?
They didn't come.
The Sphinx roared, the sound vibrating through the air like a thunderclap. A wave of paralyzing fear gripped me, rooting my feet to the earth. But there was no time to freeze.
She lunged—claws extended—toward a group of younger kids still too far from the gate.
I ran.
Shoving them forward, I felt the shadow of her massive form closing in, the air rippling with the force of her approach. Just as her claws swiped toward us—
Vines erupted.
They shot from the ground, thicker and stronger than before, twisting around her legs and wings. The Sphinx screeched, thrashing wildly, but this time, the vines held. They dragged her back, roots wrapping tighter with every struggle.
"Inside! Now!"
Jace's voice—hoarse, desperate—cut through the chaos. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, a deep gash running down his arm, but his eyes blazed with determination.
I shoved the last of the kids through the shimmering barrier of the gate and turned. The warriors were still locked in battle, their faces grim as they hacked, slashed, fought with everything they had. The Sphinx was relentless.
Then, I stepped through.
The moment I crossed the threshold, a strange sensation washed over me—like stepping into warm water. The sounds of battle dulled, as if muffled by thick glass. A false sense of calm settled over the camp.
But inside me?
There was no calm.
Only fury.
My hands curled into fists as I turned back toward the gate, rage coiling in my chest.
"Where are you?"
The words left me in a whisper, but my voice shook with anger.
"Where were you when I needed you?"
I didn't care if no one was listening.
I hoped they were listening.
Zeus. Poseidon. Hades.
They had claimed me. Promised I was important. That I had a choice.
But what kind of choice was this?
They had left me helpless. Left her helpless.
A little girl was dead because of it.
Behind the gate, the warriors fought on. The Sphinx thrashed, snarling, her eyes burning with a terrifying hunger. The vines dragged her down, but she was still fighting. Still hungry.
A satyr pulled me away, guiding me toward the others who had gathered in a clearing.
The survivors.
Some sobbing. Some silent. All of them shaken.
I barely saw the camp—the cabins, the symbols I couldn't yet decipher, the air that felt oddly still compared to the chaos outside. None of it mattered.
Because I wasn't calm.
The image of the Sphinx's jaws snapping shut—the lifeless body of that little girl—was burned into my mind.
I clenched my fists harder.
Next time the gods appeared?
I wouldn't bow.
I wouldn't ask.
I would demand answers.
And if this was the world they had dragged me into—
Then they owed me more than answers.
They owed me their loyalty.