"The forbidden one. . ."
Victor lay on the small wooden bed in his cabin, eyes locked on the cracked ceiling above him. The words of the oracle echoed in his mind like a curse he couldn't shake off.
Her visits were rare, and whenever she did show up, she spoke in riddles—cryptic phrases that were as vague as they were terrifying.
He'd waited for this moment for years—to finally get a prophecy. But this? He never imagined himself being the one who'd bring ruin to the world.
Was she talking about the invasion? Apollo's negligence? Victor had done his part, hadn't he? He'd run straight to the principal the moment he sensed the threat. But Apollo? That smug god had dismissed him like a madman.
Victor sighed, a bitter one. Trusting Apollo had been his first mistake. Every so-called "quest" the sun god sent him on felt more like a setup than a mission. He'd fought monsters alone, almost died more times than he could count, all because Apollo claimed solitude would awaken his bloodline.
Yeah, right.
None of it worked. His powers were still dormant, useless. Even during his last quest—when he tried convincing Pan for days in the heart of that eerie forest—nothing happened.
But Pan… Pan had said something.
"Why doesn't anyone listen to me?" the wild god had muttered, twitchy and clearly panicked, his fingers gnawed to the bone. "You see what you've done? You've awakened an unstoppable curse. The gods' time is near. We shall all perish now!"
Victor remembered the look on Pan's face—haunted, as if he'd seen the end. When Victor asked him to explain, Pan just turned and walked away, shoulders trembling like he was crying.
Now, it all started to click—or at least, it felt like it did.
The gods didn't want him to awaken.
Victor remembered the way Apollo looked that day in the power chamber—when his bloodline scan read zero. The sun god had actually sighed in relief. It was subtle, but Victor saw it. That breath. That quiet exhale. He was glad Victor was still powerless.
And the oracle's words? "The forbidden one."
Pan's panic. Apollo's fear. It all painted a picture.
Victor lifted his arm and let it drift lazily through the air. Could the gods actually be afraid of him? He scoffed. The gods? Afraid? That was laughable.
Well… except maybe Zeus. Even he was said to fear Nyx, the goddess of night. But Victor? A powerless, unwanted demigod?
Still, why would Hades—his father—go as far as sealing his bloodline?
Victor swung his legs off the bed and stood up, eyes hardening. He needed answers. And he wasn't going to wait for the gods to hand them to him.
He would confront Hades. No matter what it took.
But first, he had to save his friends.
He reached over to the rickety table by the wall and picked up the small knife he kept there. The only weapon he'd ever been allowed to own. He slipped it into his belt, tightened his boots, and walked to the cabin door.
When he peeked outside, he spotted three dryads chatting under the moonlight. They saw him almost instantly—and in a flash, they melded into the trees around them, vanishing like ghosts.
Dryads—forest nymphs—only came out at night. Shy around humans, they'd rather phase out than interact. Victor moved silently past the trees, heading toward the academy's assembly arc.
The arc was made up of cabins—each dedicated to an Olympian god—arranged in a semi-circle. At the far end stood the stables, where the pegasi were kept. That was his target.
He crouched behind a bush and observed. Five demigods patrolled the area in full Greek armor. No chance of blending in.
He had no armor. Just plain clothes.
He considered waiting them out, but with five of them taking shifts, someone would always be on duty.
"Who's there?" a voice barked.
Victor's stomach dropped.
He knew that voice—Heres, son of Hephaestus. Crap.
Victor panicked, but when Heres stepped close enough, he acted.
He lunged, grabbing Heres's arm and yanking him into the bush. Before the guy could scream, Victor spun him around and clamped a hand over his mouth. Heres was bulky, but not a fighter.
Victor whispered an apology and knocked him out cold with a punch.
"Sorry, man," he muttered, already pulling off the armor.
Under the moonlight, the celestial bronze gleamed faintly. Victor caught a glimpse of his own face in its reflection. Tired. Miserable. Determined.
He strapped the armor on—it was too big, heavy as hell, but he managed. Then he dragged Heres's unconscious body further into the bushes, out of sight.
One burden down. Now for the hard part.
He walked out with slow, steady steps, matching the pace of the other patrols.
A couple of them glanced at him curiously.
"Beautiful night, innit?" he rasped in a poor attempt to imitate Heres's deep voice, letting out an awkward laugh.
No one replied. Good.
As soon as their attention waned, he picked up the pace and slipped toward the stables.
He ducked inside, heart pounding. The scent of hay and pegasus fur filled his nose. Winged horses whinnied at his entrance.
He approached a white one. She backed away nervously.
"There, there girl," he said softly, extending a hand. "Shh…"
She calmed, letting him stroke her snout.
Victor opened the cage and climbed onto her back. Her wings were huge—at least five feet across. Pure white. Beautiful.
Perfect.
But there was one problem.
He had no idea how to ride a pegasus.
Apollo had always said only awakened demigods could ride them. Which meant Victor? Grounded. Always sent on normal horses like a freaking delivery boy.
"What are you doing?"
Victor turned sharply.
Rhoecus—the assistant principal. A centaur. Bucket of apples in one hand. A pegasus reaching for it with greedy eyes.
Crap.
Victor didn't think. He just acted.
"Forgive me!" he yelled, then kicked the pegasus's side.
The creature neighed loudly, charged forward—and smashed through the stable wall like a living missile.
Victor held on for dear life, arms wrapped around her neck.
"Come back here, Victor!" Rhoecus roared behind him.
"Thief!" yelled one of the patrols. "Stop him!"
Victor didn't look back. He couldn't.
Ahead was a tall brick wall separating the academy from the outside world.
If the pegasus didn't fly—
"Fly, fool, fly!!" he screamed, yanking on the mane.
The pegasus whinnied furiously—and then, she jumped.
Wings spread wide. Wind howled.
Victor's stomach flipped as they lifted into the air, soaring past the mist barrier that cloaked the academy.
He dared a glance down. The patrols were shouting and flailing, but they looked like tiny dolls now.
Above it all, the world was quiet. Still. Peaceful.
He could see the woods, the sea, the sky—
And then, a red light zipped toward him.
"What the—?"
A fire arrow.
It spun violently, crashing into him with a burst of flame.
BOOM!
Pain.
Victor was thrown off the pegasus, tumbling through the sky. Everything blurred. Wind. Fire. Stars.
As he spiraled down, one star in particular twinkled oddly at him, like it was watching.
Then darkness took over.