The tension in the air that day was different. Campers gathered in curious clusters around the Big House steps, all chattering and speculating. Word had gotten out — Hermes had given Luke a quest. A real one. For the first time in what felt like ages, something exciting was happening, and all eyes were on the tall son of Hermes as he stood in front of Chiron, holding a slip of parchment that shook slightly in his hand.
Cyrus stood in the crowd, his arms crossed, eyes narrowing at Luke's clenched jaw. The moment he had prayed for — had begged for — was now real. And instead of relief, all Cyrus felt was a sickening knot in his stomach.
Luke raised his voice above the murmurs. "I've been granted a quest. I'm to retrieve a Golden Apple from the Garden of the Hesperides."
Gasps rippled through the camp. Even Chiron looked taken aback, hooves shifting. "That's not a light task, Luke," he said gravely. "You'll need to consult the Oracle first."
Luke only nodded, but his face had gone pale.
Cyrus found himself moving before he thought, following Luke into the Big House. He stood outside the attic stairs, pacing as Luke ascended alone into the musty air where the Oracle of Delphi waited.
Minutes passed like hours. Then the door creaked open, and Luke came down, looking like he had seen a ghost.
His face was pale, sweat shining on his forehead. His hand trembled as he leaned against the wall. Cyrus stepped forward. "Luke… What did she say?"
Luke hesitated. "She said... I wouldn't be returning the same. And that I'll stand at a forked road — one path leading to glory, the other to betrayal." He gave a dry, humorless laugh. "As if that clears anything up."
"Who are you taking with you?" Cyrus asked, even though the answer hit him before Luke spoke.
"I want you and Thalia. The three of us — we've always had each other's backs. I trust you more than anyone."
Cyrus' heart twisted. He looked toward the cabins in the distance — toward the faint sound of Thalia's laugh echoing from the volleyball court and thought of the blush she had whenever Luke spoke with her and the twinkle in her eyes.
"I can't," he said suddenly, his voice cracking a little and felt as if he is making a huge mistake.
Luke blinked. "What? Why not?"
"I have to stay back. I promised Annabeth I'd train with her. And... she still needs watching out for. You know how she gets into trouble and if all of us goes...then she might feel left out..." He forced a smile that felt too tight on his face.
There was a pause.
Luke looked disappointed — no, hurt — but he nodded slowly. "Okay… If that's what you need to do."
"I'll pack supplies," Cyrus offered quickly. "Medicine. Nectar. Ambrosia. And some drachma in case you need Iris messages."
Later that day, Cyrus watched from the steps of the Apollo cabin as Luke, Thalia, and Luke's older half-brother Bruce Wolise — a lanky, serious-looking boy with short blond curls and a curved dagger strapped to his belt — prepared to leave.
Thalia adjusted her silver spear, and her backpack, eyes scanning the camp as if to memorize it before the journey.
When she locked eyes with Cyrus, her expression softened.
"You sure you're not coming, Torchlight?" she teased, but her voice lacked its usual bite.
Cyrus handed her a small pouch of wrapped bandages and vials. "You'll be fine without me. Besides, you've got Luke."
She frowned slightly, like she heard something in his voice she didn't like, but she didn't press.
Luke stepped forward. "Thank you. For everything." He gripped Cyrus's shoulder tightly. "We'll be back soon."
"I'll be waiting," Cyrus said.
They walked off toward the woods, Chiron watching solemnly as they disappeared from view. The moment they were gone, Cyrus turned on his heel and strode into the forest near the edge of camp. He dropped to his knees and slammed his fist into the earth.
He had asked for this. Prayed for this.
But it still felt like losing something.
The sky above Camp Half-Blood was cloudless. Sun was glaring at him as if it could understand what Cyrus is feeling now.
He sat alone on the edge of the Zeus's fist when a familiar warmth crept up behind him.
"What's on you mind, sunshine?" Apollo's voice was gentle as he sat beside him, arms crossed behind his golden head.
Cyrus didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the sea.
Apollo smiled, sad and proud all at once. He leaned over, ruffling Cyrus's red hair. "You carry a heavy heart, my boy. But know this — you did it because you love them. And love is rarely simple."
He stood, golden light beginning to peel him back into the divine.
"Prepare yourself," Apollo said, one last time. "And remember... I will always love you."
As the god vanished into the stars, Cyrus curled his fingers into the rooftop shingles.
He had chosen to stay behind as coward to prevent from pain. But the ache in his chest told him that he had made things much worse than what it was meant to be.
That evening, as the sun dipped low and the golden hues bathed the camp in soft light, Cyrus sat by the fire pit near the Apollo cabin, staring at the flickering flames. He wasn't alone for long.
Annabeth plopped down beside him with a quiet huff, her knees pulled to her chest. She didn't say anything for a moment — just stared into the fire with a thoughtful, slightly hurt look on her face.
"He didn't pick me," she muttered.
Cyrus blinked, then turned toward her. "What?"
"Luke," she said, hugging her knees tighter. "He's going on a quest. And he didn't pick me."
There was a long silence between them. Cyrus didn't know what stung more — the quiet disappointment in her voice, or the fact that he understood exactly how she felt.
"You really wanted to go with him?" he asked gently.
"I've trained so hard," Annabeth whispered, barely audible. "Ever since I came to camp. I read every book Chiron let me touch. I know how to navigate, how to fight. I thought… maybe he'd think I was ready." She rubbed at her eyes fiercely. "I just wanted to prove I could do it."
Cyrus gave a small, wry smile. "You are ready. But maybe he thought of you like I do."
Annabeth looked up at him, puzzled.
"I asked Luke not to pick you," he said, giving her a little nudge with his shoulder.
Her brows furrowed. "Why?"
"Because I need someone who can help me with the really dangerous stuff," he said with mock seriousness. "You know — , shopping for ambrosia rations, and medicine kits, new clothes and other miscellaneous things for the store, inventorying nectar bottles…"
Annabeth blinked. Then her mouth twitched.
"You asked him not to take me because you want me to go… shopping with you?"
Cyrus grinned. "Someone's gotta make sure we don't run out of sunblock, shampoo and toothpaste while half the camp forgets hygiene exists."
Annabeth tried to keep a straight face, but her cheeks puffed as she fought back a laugh. "So that's what my talents are reduced to. Shopping buddy."
"Not just a shopping buddy," Cyrus said, standing and offering a dramatic bow. "The best shopping buddy in all of Camp Half-Blood. Oracle certified."
Annabeth finally broke into a wide, gleaming smile — the kind that melted even the tightest knots of insecurity. "Well then," she said brightly, standing up and dusting off her knees, "I should go get ready. Do we leave at dawn, or post-breakfast?"
Cyrus chuckled. "I was thinking we take the afternoon shift. No need to rush greatness."
As Annabeth skipped off toward her cabin with a bounce in her step, Cyrus watched her go and smiled softly to himself. She didn't need to prove anything to Luke. She was already great — and now she looked genuinely happy again.
And that, at least, felt like something good in all this mess.