"However, I would advise you to get back on track. It's going to be brutal from here on."

???

I DON'T KNOW HOW, BUT I did.

The castle was built over a large hill where a long, grinding, gravelly road led the people directly to it. The further one ventures in, the farther they'll stray from the tantalizing smell wafting from the marketplace. However, the air isn't at all fresh around the palace either. It's somewhat musty and damp, with a combination of sweat and heat.

Halfway up the path, I take in the magnificent sight of the castle before me, growing larger with every step. The gray walls have aged throughout the years. It gave a sense of medieval times, where four towers stand stark beneath the sky, representing power and control.

If only I had my phone, I'd capture the moment and reminisce about it someday.

As I pass through the heavy oak doors, I'm drawn to the row of guards with their amour and colors so extravagant that I overlook the crowd in the courtyard. However, my attention now stops on the students around, specifically those completely naked. Not only am I distracted, but my jaw hangs open now. It feels like I've entered a place I shouldn't have. Unfortunately, it is the right place. Thankfully, the majority had at least a loincloth covering them. Only a loincloth.

Nevertheless, for the first time in my life—or the life of my new identity—I will maintain eye contact at all costs.

The place is swarmed with students divided into groups, each containing lessons such as archery, sword practice, and wrestling. Instructors are present in each group. Some are guiding their students, while some are simply observing them. I wrapped my head around the reality that this was my school while figuring out which group I belonged to. I soon realized there weren't any female students in the field, which meant this was an all-boy institution.

Well, this is a first.

I continue in, puzzled about which group I belong to as I know nothing of my new identity. Many eyes linger my way, confused than surprised. My legs brought me to the archery group, attentive at every step, not wanting an arrow through my body. I approach the instructor. A short scruffy man with a beard that was nearly entirely white.

"Excuse me," I barely raise my hand to get his attention.

"What?" He barks like an annoyed troll. Maybe he is one.

"Can you tell me which class I belong to?"

"You're in Class G, which means you're supposed to be in Weaponry class," his chubby index finger point towards the group where a group of boys is huddled in a circle, cheering those in combat. "Those are your classmates, are they not?"

"Yes," I snap before his suspicions can grow further. "I just had a rough night yesterday, and I'm a little foggy today. Thank you."

I turned on my heel and sped walk before he could respond. I slow down when I believe my distance from him is less threatening and arrive at the group I belong to. At least, that's what the troll claims.

"Zelus!" It turns out, I didn't have to make my appearance known as the coach had already yelled my name. I believe he can be a walking speaker.

"Yes!" I return the same energy, only for the others to guffaw. Then I notice that they are laughing at me, not with me. "I mean, yes."

Heck, I don't even know how to address these people. Do we call them by their names or coach or instructor?

"You're late," he approaches me. He's dressed in a longer chiton, brown and faded yellow. He seems like a middle-aged man with a round face, short dark hair, and eyes to match.

"I'm sorry, I woke up late," I respond without thinking twice. It's the typical excuse I could think of. Back in high school, I often arrive late to class. It's when the teacher would stop everything the moment I walked through the door. While some didn't care, some would still ask the reason, only for them to mock the same response I'd give.

"See to it that this doesn't happen again," he turns around and joins the group. Everyone's eyes are on me, but mine are locked on the instructor's back. "Just because you're the only daimon here doesn't mean you'll get any special treatment. And I don't care what your family has to say, you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," I respond, and his thin-lined eyebrows relax.

He pauses in front of the two boys practicing before I intervene. One of them holds a sword while the other a shield. They are learning the ways of attacking and defending. And judging by the cuts and bruises they've obtained, they could use more practice.

They return their weapons and join the others, and that's when the instructor picks up a spear and tosses it into the air, failing to realize he's aiming it at me. I pick it up, feeling the rough wood against my skin, intrigued by its staggering weight.

"Fortunately for you," he then takes another spear, but he holds on to it this time. "You've arrived just in time for one last match. You're up."

Suddenly the air grows thick that I had to follow the lump blocking my throat.

"I don't know how to fight with this," I said.

"And that's why you're here to learn," he strikes the end of his spear multiple times, signaling me to join him.

I would further prolong my stand, but I can't seem to find the words for it, and therefore, I carry the spear with me and walk towards him, knowing damn well I'm going to regret doing this.

"You," he points the spear in the crowd. "You're up."

Though many are here, a particular boy stands out, and I do not know why. It's like the heavens are shining down upon him. He had chestnut-brown curls. His bristly crescent-of-moon eyebrows emphasize his jaded eyes, orb round that shines brightly like two rubies placed under the sun. Broad shoulders with an athletic physique, he's wearing a ruffled chiton similar to mine. My cheeks burn from staring anywhere but his eyes.

The coach tosses the spear in his direction, and he catches it, making his way toward us. I met his eyes, deep but empty.

"It's always a treat to watch Perseus matched up against Zelus," the instructor folds his hand at his back and stands between us, facing the others. "The strongest among us against the daimon with powers, who will win?"

The boys cheer as if we're on the battlefield.

The coach confirmed that Sulod had sent me back to ancient Greek. A period where chitons were styled, deaths were common, and powerful beings walked among the mortals. And that's me, as he and Bethany call me, a daimon. And now, standing before me is Perseus.

I recall reading about him in the school library. And yet, I couldn't remember any of it. All I know is that he's an important figure in Greek Mythology.

Perseus steps back a few feet and instantly charges his spear in my direction. I dodge it and watch it land further from us. Before I could face him, he slid his foot against my ankles, where I lost balance and had my face crash on his knee. My eyes were open, but the world flashed with colors like fireworks decorating the sky. My nose throbbed as I tasted blood in my mouth.

He yanks my hair and forces me onto my feet when I fail to get back up. He then thrust the spear into my wings, causing many feathers to fall. The pain was no different than a blade slicing your flesh.

"Enough," the instructor got in between us where Perseus surrendered. "Obviously, he's not himself today, so that's it for today. Leave us; I'll join in a minute."

My ears ring, and everything muffles in my ears. I stayed on the ground, watching the boys stray further and further and soon out of my sight, and the only ones left behind were the instructor and Perseus.

"Help him up," the coach commands.

Perseus's hands slip under my arm before lifting me to my feet, slowly circling my arm over the coach's shoulder. He then leaves to join the rest.

"What's going with you, Zelus?" It was difficult to crane my neck; therefore, I imagine the expression of disappointment on his face. "Usually, you'll use your powers to defend yourself, especially when matched against Perseus. But today, you did nothing. It's like you wanted him to kill you."

"Trust me, maybe I wanted that," I speak through my bleeding mouth.

We're in a hallway away from the sound of boys cheering, equipment crashing, and instructors yelling. He places me down, carefully positioning my wings aside before leaning my back against the wall. The chilly stone stings my exposed skin.

"I assumed you're still able to heal yourself?" He crouches in front of me.

"No," I held my forehead that wouldn't stop spinning.

...

He left and returned with some supplies to help with my injuries. It wasn't much as he only brought some fabrics used as bandages and a bowl of water to wash the dried blood staining my face.

"This is the first time I've seen you so fragile," he moves the fabric in a circular motion over my forehead. "Since the day we crossed paths, my eyes had always perceived you as a tough, ill-tempered, violent kid. Today, it's like you're a whole different person."

If only he knew.

"However, I would advise you to get back on track. It's going to be brutal from here on."

...

School injuries are common. Regardless if it's fatal or a mild headache, it'll pass as an excuse to go home early. When I first joined the dodgeball club in high school, I was unfortunate enough to match against Tyler and his cackle of hyenas. He's the school's most adored individual. He was crowned homecoming king three years in a row, won first place in many school events, and has excellent academic scores. The teachers respected him, the girls loved him, and the guys wanted to be him. But even with all that perfection, his personality makes him the ugliest person among us.

I had failed to dodge every ball thrown against me. On the bright side, the coach permitted me to go home early. Rather than spending the rest of the day studying and being productive, I stayed in my room with the door locked, curtains shut, and covers over my head, slowly drifting to sleep and hoping when I woke up, a new day had come. Or even better, not wake up at all.

The school here isn't like that.

I bled, and certain parts of my body throbbed to the extent that I couldn't move without feeling like a knife was constantly jabbing my chest. After the instructor helped with my injuries, I asked if I could go home. He refused, claiming my injuries were minor and that I could carry on as the remaining classes were held indoors.

The people around me claimed that I was different from them, but it didn't feel like that. No powers are flowing through my veins; my wings are attached to me, but they don't carry me away, and I bleed and feel pain just like everybody else. I'm nothing special.

I suffered throughout Science and Maths period. Mostly Maths which was the only thing that didn't change between myself and my new identity. Though I was impressed that the Pythagorean Theorem already existed in this time zone. I thought advanced Maths—at least they're advance to me—began during the nineteen hundred and not this era. Whatever era I'm in right now. As for Science, we've covered the common plants and herbs that could be used as medicine to heal certain wounds or simply fumigate them.

My feet bring me to an open hall by the castle's west wing, also known as the cafeteria. A place of relaxation before and after a long day of grinding the mind and body. The scent of fresh bread and sweaty boys invade my nostrils as I walk towards an empty table by the corner. The seat is warm, which means someone was here not too long ago. I hold my chin up to see the natural behaviors of the boys around me. The atmosphere was foreign, but at the same time, it was no different than a high school cafeteria. Loud students eat like animals while having an eating contest; the quiet ones have their noses stuck in a book, and the workers go out of their way to ensure every student is served well.

And then there's Perseus. He's sitting further from my table together with some other boys. They're sitting next to a window where the sun radiates upon his golden-brown skin, blemish free and gleams as if he's rubbed oil on himself. His dark hair glistened, and the jade in his eyes beamed with life. He's eating one of the best selections on today's menu, bread with cheese and grilled fish with lemon.

Our eyes connect for a moment, and I flinch as if I was struck by lightning. I look away because my cheeks are burning red. After assuming he's looked away, I stopped staring. Still, sometimes I'd steal a glance or two from the corner of my eye, observing his natural behavior when there's no weapon or a book in front of him. He can be serene at times, and often, he's the class clown who everyone admires.

I tried focusing on myself more from then on, trying to decide if I should go home—or at least the home of my new identity—or stay and explore the castle. That is, if we're allowed to.

...

After minutes of contemplating, I lost track of time as I couldn't tell what time it was. All I knew was that it was past noon as the sun wasn't at its highest.

I got myself a piece of bread with melted cheese spread over them. Though, with my lack of appetite, the food tastes like paste in my mouth and sand in my stomach. I toss the balance into the trash, pick myself up, leave the cafeteria, and head back home. My wings are heavy, and I crave nothing but some sleep now.

As I pass Perseus's table, I feel his eyes on my back, but I pay no mind to it and leave the hall, eventually feeling at ease knowing I'm further away from these people. I walk through the halls, down the stairs, and into the Great Hall, passing the Chambers and courtyard before exiting through the tall, massive oak doors where guards stand by with a spear.

My feet struck the blistering path as I dragged myself home, wishing I knew how to work these wings.

"It's going to be a long journey back."