Henry Beckett stood at the edge of the cliff, his bronze sword glinting in the waning sunlight. Below, waves crashed against jagged rocks, their endless rhythm a haunting melody of his life. Ten years, 500 quests, countless scars—both on his body and his soul. He was the gods' perfect soldier, and yet, as he gazed on the horizon, the familiar bitterness welled up inside him.

"Another day, another Olympus errand," Henry muttered under his breath, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. The resentment in his chest burned hotter than ever. His father, Hermes, could orchestrate missions, bestow weapons, and send cryptic messages, but he couldn't be there when it mattered most—when Henry needed him.

Behind him, the rest of the Guardians made camp. Veronica Lopez, as usual, was sprawled against a tree trunk, her hood low over her face as she dozed. The daughter of Hades had an uncanny ability to look completely unbothered, even in the midst of chaos. Shadows danced around her, responding to her subconscious emotions.

"She's sleeping again," Charlie Jackson whispered as he approached Henry, his bow slung over his back. The son of Ares had an easy smile and a calm demeanor that always seemed to diffuse tension. He handed Henry a flask of water. "You should rest too, you know. Pacing cliffs doesn't solve anything."

Henry shot him a wry smile but said nothing. Rest wasn't an option for him—not with the burden they carried. Their mission, handed down directly from Zeus, was to recover scattered pieces of Kronos' soul before his followers could. It was a race against time, and failure wasn't an option. The fate of Olympus—and the mortal world—depended on them. 

"Naomi's on watch?" Henry asked, nodding towards the camp.

"Yeah," Charlie replied. "She insisted. Said she needed to prove her worth or something."

"She doesn't need to prove anything," Henry muttered. "She's here for a reason." 

Charlie chuckled. "Try telling her that. Noami's the most stubborn mortal I've ever met. Makes you look like a pushover." 

As if on cue, Noami Anderson's voice rang out from the campsite. "Are you two going to brood over there all night, or are we making a plan?" 

Henry and Charlie exchanged a glance before heading back to the campfire. Noami stood, her gun holstered by her side, her fiery eyes locking onto Henry. "What's the next move, boss?"

"We move at dawn," Henry said, settling down beside the fire. "We're close to one of the soul fragments. It's in the ruins of an old temple about fifty miles from here. Expect heavy resistance." 

Veronica stirred, her voice groggy but sharp. "You mean more rogue demigods brainwashed by Kronos' promises of glory? Fantastic. Just what I wanted to wake up to." 

"That's the job," Henry replied, his tone curt. "And we're the only ones who can do it." 

"Correction," Noami interjected. "We're the only ones Zeus wants to do it. Convenient, isn't it? Sending a group of misfits to clean up their mess." 

Henry's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Noami had a point, one he was all too familiar with. The gods rarely dealt with their problems directly, preferring to leave their dirty work to others. 

Charlie, sensing the tension, stepped in. "Look, we're all tired, but we're in this together. Let's focus on the mission and get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be rough." 

The group fell silent, the crackling fire the only sound. Shadows flickered across Veronica's face, her dark eyes thoughtful. "Kronos doesn't need all the pieces to start causing problems," she said finally. "Even a fragment of his soul is dangerous. We can't let him get ahead of us."

"We won't," Henry said firmly. His voice carried the weight of command, but also something deeper—his unyielding determination to protect his team. They were more than comrades; they were his family. And he would do whatever it took to keep them safe.

As the fire died down, Henry took the first watch, his mind racing. This mission wasn't just about stopping Kronos. It was proving something—to the gods, his father, and himself. But as the night deepened, he couldn't shake the feeling that the price of their success would be higher than any of them anticipated. 

Tomorrow, the battle would begin. But tonight, Henry allowed himself one rare moment of vulnerability, staring up at the stars and whispering a silent plea: Don't let me fail them.