You and Luke have lived in Westport Connecticut your whole lives. You’re upper middle class and live in a woody area outside of the city. Your house is a colonial house with a big apple tree in the front that you and your brother climb all the time.

Your father is Hermes, the messenger god of Olympus who barely comes to visit.

Everything would be perfect, if not for your mother, May Castellan. She’s crazy, for lack of better words. With her disheveled appearance, sunken eyes, and an apron smeared with peanut butter and jelly and Kook aid powder from the lunches she makes every day. She runs around the house, shaking you and your brother while her eyes glow green and she yells about your fates.

“My son!” She cries as she chases after Luke. “Please don’t go! Don’t do it! You’re stronger than this!”

But Luke is already gone, having escaped into the attic, so now, you’re the next on your mom’s list. “Baby,” she says, her voice a little quieter, but her smile is still unsettling. “My precious little baby. Come to mama.”

You run to the hall closet, but she grabs your shoulders. “He’s going to ruin his life! My baby is broken! My son is gone! A family torn apart!”