CHAPTER ONE

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

Was Silviana Duvall embarrassed when her half-sister wrapped vines around her ankles and whipped her to the ground? Fine. Yes, she very much was; but, in her defense, this fight was entirely unfair and utterly pointless because they were getting nowhere.

"Ow."

"You're not even trying," Eurydice accused.

Sylvie glared at Eurydice—which unfortunately wasn't as intimidating as she'd anticipated—as she sputtered the grass out of her mouth and stood back up.

"Or," Sylvie disagreed, "this is me trying, and you should give up helping me 'cause I suck!"

Eurydice Arandel, Sylvie's eldest half-sibling. They were both children of Demeter, just like their other three siblings that resided in Cabin 4. Somehow, despite having four half-siblings, Eurydice was the only one who loved to push Sylvie by doing this. She was pretty sure Katie, Florian, nor Miranda would be dragging Sylvie out to the strawberry fields to practice Sylvie's "superior abilities" that quite frankly (in Sylvie's opinion) didn't exist.

No. That was just Eurydice's neurotic ass.

In all honesty, Sylvie couldn't really blame Eurydice for her suddenly stringent ways. She's had a pretty hard year, all things considered.

Last summer, Eurydice's long-term boyfriend (Sylvie swore to never speak his name again but for the sake of context she'll do it just this once) Luke Castellan sort of went rogue, betrayed everyone, and fled camp in order to completely destroy the gods. Eurydice didn't like talking about it much—meaning, at all—but ever since the end of last summer there had been a profound sadness to Eurydice's every step. She acted different, weird, and her half-siblings had to pretend like they didn't notice. If they asked Eurydice about it, she'd get even weirder and talked a certain way that scared Sylvie.

Because sometimes Eurydice sounded a lot like Luke.

Sylvie tried helping herself understand (she knew a lot more about tragic romances than she'd like to admit, something about sheep and August slipping away and all of that). Eurydice had been dating Luke ever since she was fourteen and he was fifteen. For a long time, they were the camp's beloved relationship that everyone either adored or envied. Suddenly having that ripped from your hands, after four years of thinking you know a person, well—that couldn't be easy. Eurydice couldn't just be fine. She was always the hopeless romantic, the optimist, the one that held belief there was someone for everyone, the one that wanted her happy ending. Eurydice could busy herself in camp activities and meaningless training in the strawberry fields all she wanted, but Sylvie knew. There was an eternal aching in her heart now that Eurydice couldn't shake. Sylvie never told anyone, but sometimes when she woke up early from nightmares, she would catch Eurydice out on the porch of their cabin. Every time, Eurydice would be looking in the same direction, and every time, Sylvie realized it was a window of Cabin 11.

Sylvie felt horrible for Eurydice. It was like the campers were trying to kick Eurydice while she was down, because now they were wary of Eurydice. Ever since the news of Luke, they didn't seem to trust her anymore—reason of suspicion being that Eurydice's relationship with Luke lasted right until the very end. They went from star couple to star-crossed in a matter of moments. One betrayal could change everything. It made Sylvie miserable. Eurydice practically raised Sylvie, along with everyone in their cabin. Katie, Florian, Sylvie, and Miranda all thought the world of her. It was a harrowing thought, for someone not to have full faith in their big sister.

While Cabin 4 dealt with their own internal issues, Camp Half-Blood was in shambles this summer—no offense, camp. And, well, Sylvie supposed she should say no offense Thalia, too.

Every camper knew the story behind the tree that (supposedly) protected Camp Half-Blood. Six years ago, Grover Underwood (satyr protector), Annabeth Chase (child of Athena), He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and Thalia Grace (daughter of Zeus) had come to Camp Half-Blood chased by an army of monsters. When they got cornered on top of Half-Blood Hill, Thalia had made her last stand there to give her friends time to reach safety. As she was dying, her father took pity on her and changed her into a pine tree. Her spirit had reinforced the magic borders of the camp, protecting it from monsters. The pine had been there ever since, strong and healthy.

Well.

It was strong and healthy.

If you looked at it (her?) now, you would be instantly startled by the yellow needles. And the huge pile of dead ones littered at the base of the tree. And the puncture mark the size of a bullet hole in the center of the trunk oozing green sap.

To summarize: Someone had poisoned Thalia's giant pine tree (Sylvie was suspecting that blonde ass traitor, but that was neither here nor there, folks) that resided at the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Now you could probably see why the camp was in shambles. The magical borders were failing, and Camp Half-Blood was lucky to only get one monster attack a day now.

But here Eurydice was. Forcing Sylvie to train.

"I wouldn't know if you suck. You're not even trying for me to see," Eurydice retorted, in that all-too-familiar stick-in-the-ass tone. Sylvie, like the very mature fourteen-year-old she was, whined and threw her head back.

"Ask anyone at camp then," glared Sylvie. "I suck."

Her half-sister was undeterred. "Just shut up and actually try fighting me back. And do it right this time."

"I can't do it right, Eury!" Sylvie snapped, and okay maybe she wasn't that mature. "I can't ever do anything right! I can't even grow strawberries in a strawberry field, when are you going to realize this is a waste of time? I'm a walking disgrace to all demigods alive and deceased."

Something in Eurydice's eyes shifted. That happened a lot when she looked at Sylvie for too long. Sylvie thought she would love to be under the attention of her big sister, but it always made her feel-wrong footed. Seen. Scared. Sylvie always wondered what Eurydice thought when she saw Sylvie—always got worried that she was seeing Sylvie the same way Sylvie saw herself.

Sylvie promised you that if you were her, you'd constantly be thinking the same things. You would be worrying so much that you couldn't sleep at night in shame of yourself. In the mortal world, she was a troubled kid with ADHD and dyslexia that got kicked out of most schools, and when she didn't get kicked out, she couldn't even get along with anyone there. She lived on a farm virtually in the middle of nowhere with her uncle, his wife, his four kids, and... her dad.

She also lived in Buttfuck, Louisiana (or Albany, as others called it), where basically no one existed, and everyone that did reside there were your perfect, prime examples of Cajun rednecks. So that definitely wasn't helping her make friends or fit in.

Then, when Sylvie came to camp and entered the godly world, she was a defective daughter of Demeter. She still struggled socializing with others, and she had a strong penchant for being clumsy to the point of mass accidents. Let's just say no one was really jumping up at the chance to ask Sylvie to run errands for them. Or do chores. Or be on their team for Capture the Flag. Or be their friend. Or... Okay, you get the point, right?

So, yeah. Typical Sylvie Duvall with the typical half-blood story. Trouble in school, ADHD, dyslexia, a father with schizophrenic dementia, a godly parent, monster attacks. Basically all of the normal things you've heard of before. And if one of those things wasn't like the others, Sylvie was choosing to ignore it for as long as humanly possible.

Anyways, back to her borderline temper tantrum in the strawberry fields at broad daylight.

"Sylv," Eurydice started with a sigh. Sylvie could recognize this expression. It was a mixture of sympathy and pity, and Sylvie hated it. "I've seen you do crazy things, things that I haven't seen any other Demeter kid do. As much as you hate to admit it."

Okay Eurydice was right about one thing. She did hate to admit it.

"That... All of that was on accident," Sylvie insisted stubbornly. Her mind betrayed her, conjuring up images of twirling vines and a leafy-green glow. "It's not—me."

Sylvie didn't have to say her true thoughts on the matter, because she had a feeling that Eurydice already knew. It's not me could be directly translated to I'm not a hero. I'm not anything. I'm not worthy of anyone's time. Take your pick, because they were all thoughts running through Sylvie's head.

Her sister's stare lingered. Eurydice had known what she saw, and maybe it was an accident, but it was certainly Sylvie. Strangely enough, Eurydice knew a great deal about how Sylvie worked. Sylvie had always been unfortunately aware of this, but she preferred to consider herself—particularly the more unsightly parts of herself—impenetrable. She acted like she didn't know what Eurydice's gaze meant.

"Do you ever wish..." Eurydice asked suddenly, and even before she finished Sylvie was caught off guard. "Do you ever think about how much greater we can be?"

All the time Sylvie fought not to say, though she didn't quite know what Eurydice was asking. Sylvie just... wanted to be great, she supposed.

"Greater than... the other cabins?" she guessed instead.

"Than the gods."

Sylvie's chest did that thing it always did whenever Eurydice spoke like this. It twisted inside and it pierced Sylvie in a way that didn't feel physical. There was an instinctive part of her that wanted to run towards her sister, hug her and tell her everything would be okay. Eurydice didn't have to be like this. Luke could be forgotten in the dust, and they could be happy.

"Eurydice..." Sylvie frowned, and the use of her full name made Eurydice recoil. "Did you sleep last night? Maybe you should... Maybe we should go back to the cabin. Rest."

But she knew Eurydice didn't sleep last night. She hardly slept any night.

"Shit. Yeah. Sorry, Sylv," Eurydice hissed, crossing her arms as she closed herself off again. "I didn't mean it. I was just... Yeah, I didn't sleep last night. I should rest. Sorry."

Sylvie nodded back at her sister, trying to hold back her expression. She found herself anxiously playing with the mitten on her right hand. It was an olive green, knitted, fingerless glove, and Sylvie only had one of them. There wasn't one on her left hand, because it wasn't really a glove at all. If she were to curl her hand into a fist right now, it would transform into what it really was—a lethal, Celestial bronze weapon.

Sylvie's choice of weapon came in the form of xiphe—two xiphos daggers that were mismatched (which basically described Sylvie's life perfectly). One of them, the one that she wore on her hand, was a gift from Demeter. Sylvie figured it was basically her way of saying Sorry I abandoned you to grow up alone with your insane dad, hope this helps! Sylvie always fidgeted with it when she wanted to feel close to her mother, and it was seen in display right now. The xiphos itself was a double-edged, one-handed dagger with a blade that was leaf-shaped and 11 inches long; the hilt depicting vines and flowers wrapping up the weapon. It harbored the name γαλήνιος (Galínios), which meant Halcyon.

Now, Sylvie's other xiphos held a different story. Spoiler warning: it wasn't as cool as the first weapon.

Sylvie only had one gift from her mother, one tangible piece of evidence that there was someone out there she had a lasting connection to. She didn't originally have a second dagger, and it was... a disaster, in kinder terms.

The campers of Camp Half-Blood tried training Sylvie to use Halcyon, they really did. It was just—Sylvie was awkward as hell and hopeless with the xiphos. She didn't know what to do with her other hand. She felt like a little fencing freak, and it was when she jokingly shouted En garde! that the other kids had enough.

Her half-sister, Katie Gardner (bless her soul), rummaged in the armory and found Sylvie a second xiphos to try and wield. It was still Celestial bronze, but the blade of this one was about 8 inches and didn't have any fancy designs on it. It didn't shift or transform or anything either, so Sylvie kept it on herself wherever it would be most useful. Honestly, taking care of the two weapons was like having two plants; one that died if the pH of the soil was too high, and one that could happily grow in the concrete. First example being: the name of this dagger was σιταρικό (Sitarikó), and that meant Cereal.

Listen, it didn't have a name when Sylvie first became in possession of it. So, yes. She did name a centuries-old dagger Cereal. Sue her, alright? She was eleven. And she really liked cereal.

What she didn't like, however, was how being in this strawberry field with her sister made her feel. Eurydice was thinking about Luke again, Sylvie could tell. She could even spot the way Eurydice's eyes flickered to Cabin 11 for a moment. If you weren't watching her so closely you wouldn't have noticed, but Sylvie was always watching Eurydice. Always looking up to her.

Yeah, Sylvie thought. Maybe we just need some rest.

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Sylvie was grateful for her clumsiness and identity as a failure for one reason, and one reason alone: border patrol.

At each and every time of day, because of Thalia's poisoned pine tree, they were now required to patrol the borders of camp on different shifts. Sylvie, however, was the opposite of required. No one made her, because no one trusted her enough not to fuck things up. She pretended that didn't sting and chose to enjoy the fact no one was putting any pressure on her. If you thought Sylvie by herself was enough of a wreck, watch how she performed under pressure.

"Florian, I will learn how to strangle you with vines, I swear to the gods!"

Okay, maybe she did want to do border patrol. Maybe then, she wouldn't have to be stuck in her cabin with her white ass half-brother trying to show Sylvie and Eurydice his one-man rendition of Hamilton for the twenty-ninth time.

"Seriously?! You cut me off, now I'm gonna have to start all over!" Florian complained. Then, he cleared his throat, and the real nightmare began, "How does a bastard, orphan—?"

"No," Eurydice finally stepped in. She had been trying to follow Sylvie's advice and take a nap, but she should have known better, because there was never a moment of peace in their cabin. "Florian, you're on cabin cleanup duty if you finish that sentence."

Florian grumbled, "You guys just can't recognize real talent."

Florian Whitlock, Sylvie's only (as far as she knew) half-brother. If his godly parent was his dad, you would probably mistake him for an Apollo kid. Or even Dionysus. The only reason Sylvie wasn't surprised he belonged to the Demeter cabin was because of his eccentric ass name. It suited him, because he was an eccentric ass boy.

He also seriously loved music—he even had a guitar a camp that he played constantly, and when he wasn't playing it... well, you just got an example of what Florian did. He was Sylvie's favorite sibling (although she would never admit it, would lie and tell you it's Eurydice), and because of his personality, made the best of friends with Castor and Pollux (Mr. D's twin sons).

In all honesty, Florian meant a lot to her. Since Sylvie lived all the way in Louisiana, she always had to fly to New York in order to get to camp. Ever since her second summer, Florian and his dad decided to pick Sylvie up from the airport after she did so. Florian's dad was sort of the best, and Sylvie loved joking with Florian that he was Sylvie's favorite Whitlock. Sometimes, when she rode in the car with them to and from Camp Half-Blood, Sylvie could pretend. She could believe that she belonged somewhere, that she had a functional home worth staying in. She could close her eyes, and pretend it was her own dad joking around with her.

But it wasn't her dad. He was back on the lone farm in Albany with the sheep.

Sylvie internally reminded herself she needed to stop thinking so much, because her thoughts never ended up anywhere good. She shook her head a little, opting on joining reality again with a roll of her eyes directed at Florian.

"We can, you just don't have it," Sylvie bickered, choosing the annoying little sister role for today.

Then, because Florian knew just exactly how to push Sylvie's buttons, he adopted his strongest mock-southern accent, "Howdy, y'all, I'm Henriette. Pardon me for being so gosh darn rude to my amazing brother. YEEHAW—!"

"KILL YOURSELF!" Sylvie snapped, lurching to suffocate him with her pillow just as Eurydice leaped up to stop her.

Let the records state that Sylvie was not being defensive. Her brother was just being an asshole. Henriette was his nickname for her, because Florian found Sylvie's middle name absolutely hilarious and embarrassing. He talked to her in that accent because apparently, he was mocking Sylvie's own way of speaking. But contrary to popular belief, no Sylvie does not have a southern accent.

(Don't ask anyone else she has ever communicated to about this, because they will tell you otherwise. They will be lying.)

Okay, whatever. Even if Sylvie did have an accent (she didn't), it was slight and mild. At least, "mild" compared to her dad and Uncle Emerson, whose accents were so thick that only southerners could really understand them. And agricultural goddesses, Sylve supposed.

That wasn't the point, though. The point was that Sylvie's siblings hated her (she was being dramatic) and loved making fun of how southern Sylvie truly was (this part was the truth). Sylvie swore to the gods she was just as normal as everyone else, but that would be another poorly built lie she'd be telling herself. Sylvie always stood out in the worst ways possible. She didn't really belong. She was so different from everyone, and it was shown even in the way she spoke.

Sylvie found herself fidgeting with her glove again. So much so that she accidentally shifted the fingerless glove out into Halcyon. Her hand was tightly gripping the hilt of intricately carved vines, and the blade grew out 11 inches towards Florian.

"Woah!" Florian jumped back. "Okay, you didn't need to bring knives into this!"

"Sylvie, put the cereal blade away!" Eurydice groaned, like Sylvie had maliciously intended to do it. But, like most things, Sylvie had accidentally done it because she was a failure to society.

"This isn't Cereal, it's Halcyon!" Sylvie corrected, but her eyes were still wildly trained on the xiphos she accidentally whipped out. "Sh—Uh, sorry, Florian. I-I didn't mean to!"

Sylvie's fist squeezed at the hilt, fingernails digging into Halcyon just so, and it started transforming again. The knitted glove was back on her hand, but it didn't provide her that kind of comforting warmth it usually did right now. Her hand was sweating, and she was sorry—always so, so sorry.

"You're crazy!" Florian told her, disgruntled.

"Florian..."

"She's crazy!" he told Eurydice, who honestly looked one step away from following in her ex-boyfriend's footsteps.

Sylvie grunted. "I told you I didn't mean to," she mumbled, her own form of an apology.

"Yeah, you never mean to," Florian sighed right back in exasperation. If it was anyone else, he would probably think Sylvie was lying. But Sylvie was Sylvie, and she knew what came next.

Just as Sylvie predicted, Eurydice was shaking her head tiredly. "Sylvie, you know what to do."

"But I barely even—!"

"Uh," Florian interjected. "You almost stabbed me with a knife. It counts."

Sylvie grumbled, "A dagger."

"Sylvie," Eurydice narrowed her eyes. Sylvie detected her stick-in-the-ass tone. The girl really did need a nap.

"This is bullying, you know," Sylvie frowned as she pivoted on her heel. Neither of her siblings answered her, but Sylvie wasn't surprised. She begrudgingly walked around the oak tree in the middle of the cabin and over to the other side of the room. There, stuck onto the wall, Sylvie was face-to-face with what Eurydice was making her deal with.

"This is literally that curly fancy writing shit!" Sylvie complained. "And when did you decorate it? Y'all hate me!"

The only thing she heard was murmured teases about her use of y'all. Gods. One day Sylvie was going to snap, and they wouldn't hear from her again.

You see, there was a running bit going on in Cabin 4. In front of Sylvie, was a whiteboard displayed before her—at the top of it, a fancy label done in dry-erase marker labeled DAYS SINCE SYLVIE'S LAST ACCIDENT!!!! Since the last time Sylvie had seen it, her siblings had opted on decorating it. The metal borders were now covered by scrapbooking decorations—symbols like flowers, leaves, plants, etc. The Demeter kids sure were predictable in their aesthetic.

Carping miserably underneath her breath, Sylvie grabbed a hold of the magnetic eraser attached to the board. She let herself soak in the number before her—probably the last time she'd ever see 287 associated with this whiteboard. Then, after a heaving breath, she erased the purple marker that Katie had drawn on. Goodbye 287, Sylvie thought to herself. You were my new record.

Now the number staring back at her was a big, purple 0.

Back to square one.

Camp was going to be great this year...

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BAILEY YAPS...

Um hi. Hello flayedcrank nation. It's been so long. I missed you dearly.

Listen okay i know this chapter sucks and it's short and it's boring I KNOW but i had to do it for introductory purposes... Please just 🐻 with me percy and plot are coming your way soon. Say hi to Sylvie though she's here i guess

Shoutout and dedication to my lovely wives aquamcnti meowvaldez cinemacope laciesrot tvgirlmuse op81lovebot  i love them and they inspire me and i'd die for them YEAH!

Persylv is on the horizon... Their shipname could totally be Seaweed cus sea=percy and weed=sylvie cus she's a demeter kid but hey that's neither here nor there... Are y'all ready  for them prepare yourselves...

Also u guys can pry italics from my cold dead hands IDC!!!

Anyways basically Sylvie's a chaotic mess. Eurydice's a heartbroken mess. Florian's an annoying mess. I'm holding them all in my hands like apples.

Hi Sylvie I'm also from Louisiana and say y'all I think we'd be the best of friends

What'd you think?