He stood on the porch of the Hermes Cabin, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows on the ground. Laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the smell of campfire smoke and pine. But instead of feeling at home, a knot tightened in his stomach.

As the newly appointed head of the cabin, he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He watched the campers with a mix of pride and bitterness; each one yearned for guidance from the gods who had neglected them. Luke remembered what it was like to be unclaimed—adrift, waiting for a sign that would never come.

He glanced at the crowded common area, where kids scrambled to share stories and snacks. They looked to him for reassurance, but all he felt was resentment for the gods who ignored their own while favouring others. How could he lead when he was still grappling with his own anger?

Luke lay sprawled on his bunk, the scent of wood and old sweat mingling in the air. He tossed a baseball up and down, its soft thud echoing against the cabin walls. He focused on the rhythm, letting the repetitive motion ground him. His thoughts were elsewhere, but he masked his unease with a practiced grin, determined to uphold an image of someone he couldn't quite name.

“Hey, you want to try catching this?” he asked, his voice light, almost teasing. “I promise I won’t aim for your face. That’s reserved for my enemies.” He winked, trying to make a joke out of the chaos of emotions swirling within him.

He tossed the ball gently. “Seriously, though, you should join me out there tomorrow. There’s a whole bunch of kids who need to learn how to throw a ball properly. You can’t let them think they can just scoot by with a lame pitch.”

Luke caught the ball again, tossing it higher this time, his smile not reaching his eyes. “And I’m pretty sure I’m the best coach around here. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.” He chuckled softly, the sound hollow. “We could be like the dream team. Hermes Cabin, reigning champions of… whatever we decide to play.”