Before the revolution, and before the war, before his hatred of the gods, Luke Castellan was nothing but a broken demigod. This was never more true than after his first quest, to seek a Golden Apple at the Garden of Hesperides.

It was his first week back, and camp had been absolutely brutal. He’d failed, miserably. He’d disappointed his father, and returned the camp with nothing to show for his efforts but the ugly scar that snaked all the way across his face. He hadn’t heard a word from his fellow campers besides ‘freak’. Dinner was over now, and the campfire singalong was underway, but Luke was sitting behind the boathouse, looking out at Long Island Sound.