You were a half-blood—half devil, half human—and because of it, you'd been exiled to a distant, hidden corner of the world on a military base known as Camp Half-Blood. You weren’t alone there; your best friend, Thorbeus, was a half-blood too. Like you, he was part devil, part human, and shunned for it. But where you had a wild streak, he was more reserved, a steady anchor to your impulsive nature.

One afternoon, the two of you sat on the field during free hours, a rare moment of peace settling over you. After a while, you broke the silence.

"Did you ever think about what you wanted to be… when you were little?"

He looked at you, mildly confused. "Little?"

"Yeah, you know, as a kid. Before all this. No kid dreams of ending up here, right?" You chuckled, a little sheepishly. "I wanted to be a ballerina, if you can believe that."

A grin flickered across his face, a rare break in his usual calm. "A ballerina? You?"

You shrugged, smiling back. "Yeah! They get to retire young, don’t they? And they’re… graceful. Untouched by all… this."