Henry's dreams were restless that night, haunted by the memories he had tried to bury. The fire's faint glow seemed to pull him deeper into his mind, and soon he was no longer in the safety of their camp.
He was a child again, standing in the doorway of their small apartment. His mother, worn and weary but fiercely loving, stood at the window, her hands clenched into fists. Across from her was Hermes, radiating divine energy, his golden caduceus glowing faintly.
"You can't leave us," his mother pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. "Zeus doesn't need you as much as we do. Your son needs you."
Henry's small voice echoed faintly. "Dad, please stay."
Hermes looked conflicted, his eyes darting between them and the sky above, where a faint crackle of thunder echoed Zeus's impatience. "I don't have a choice," he said finally, his voice tinged with guilt. "This is my duty."
"No," his mother spat, her voice breaking. "Your duty is here, with us. What kind of god abandons his own child?"
Hermes hesitated for a heartbeat too long, and then he vanished in a flash of golden light. Henry reached out, his small fingers grasping at empty air. The memory froze in place, the image of his father's departure burned in his mind like a scar.
Suddenly, the vision warped. The warm apartment faded, replaced by a cold, narrow passageway shrouded in darkness. The air was thick, suffocating, and a voice echoed around him—deep, smooth, and impossibly ancient.
"You see it now, don't you? The gods don't care about you, Henry Beckett. They never did."
Henry turned, his sword materializing in his hand, but there was no source for the voice. It came from everywhere and nowhere.
"They use you, like they've always used demigods. A perfect soldier, disposable the moment you stop being useful."
"Shut up," Henry growled, gripping his sword tightly. "I'm not interested in what you have to say."
The shadows shifted, forming into the towering figure of Kronos. His eyes glowed like molten gold, and his voice dripped with venomous charm.
"Think, Henry. With me, you could be so much more. Not a pawn. A king. Together, we could bring the gods to their knees. Imagine it—no more quests, no more sacrifices. Just freedom."
Henry gritted his teeth, his mind a battleground of conflicting emotions. The temptation was insidious, worming into the cracks of his resentment. But deep inside, he knew the truth.
"I'm not like you," he spat. "I fight for them because I choose to. Not for the gods, but for the people I care about."
With a roar of defiance, Henry summoned every ounce of his willpower and slashed his sword through the darkness. Kronos' form disintegrated with a furious scream, and Henry jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
The morning came too soon, but Henry was already up, his nerves steeled despite the dream. He didn't tell the others, not wanting to burden them with his doubts. They had a mission to complete.
By midday, the Guardians reached the ruins of the temple. Cracked pillars and overgrown vines marked the entrance, and the air was unnervingly still.
"We're not alone," Veronica said, her voice low. Her shadowy tendrils writhed around her feet, sensing the danger.
As if on cue, rogue demigods burst from the foliage, weapons drawn.
"Ambush!" Henry shouted, drawing his bronze sword.
The battle erupted in a flurry of chaos, Henry charged forward, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he met the first wave of rogues. He blocked an incoming spear with his golden shield, absorbing the impact and redirecting it back at the attacker. The rogue demigod flew backward, slamming into a tree with devastating force.
Charlie stayed at the edge of the fray, his bow already drawn. He quickly dipped his arrows into a vial of sleeping agent and fired with precision, each arrow finding its mark in non-lethal areas. One by one, their opponents crumpled to the ground.
Veronica was a force of nature, her shadows twisting and writhing like living entities. She summoned massive tentacles made of darkness that snatched rogue demigods off their feet and hurtled them into one another.
Noami, positioned in higher ground, fired her enchanted bullets with deadly accuracy. Each shot hit its target, the rogue demigods falling one after another. Within minutes, the ambush was quelled. The Guardians, battered but victorious, regrouped and entered the temple.
The interior of the temple was dim and foreboding, the air heavy with an ancient malevolence. At its center, a fragment of Kronos' soul floated within a glowing crystal. Its dark energy pulsed rhythmically, like a heartbeat.
Veronica reached out cautiously, her fingers grazing the crystal. Her eyes flashed back for a moment, and she shuddered before stuffing the fragment into a secure package.
"Let's get this thing out of here," Noami said, her voice tense.
Henry nodded, summoning a golden envelope bearing Hermes' emblem. It was a delivery method for urgent, dangerous artifacts. The package shimmered as it vanished into thin air, bound for Olympus.
"One down," Charlie said with a faint smile. "How many more to go?"
"Too many," Veronica muttered.
As they stepped back into the sunlight, Henry glanced at the sky, his resolve hardening. The gods may have used him, but this fight wasn't for them. It was for his team, the only family he had left. And he wouldn't let Kronos—or his doubts—tear them apart.