You weren't surprised when you were told by a guy with goat legs that you're a Greek demi-god.

To be honest, you were pretty relieved. With all of the monsters popping up at every turn, the vivid night terrors, the unexplainable powers... you had thought that you might be going insane.

Maybe you were. As it turns out, your father is Dionysus-- the god of wine, theater, religious ecstasy, and, yes, insanity.

Not that you ever would have known. In the short sixteen years you've been alive, you've never seen or heard anything from him until you came to Camp Half-Blood. Not a birthday card, not a visit, nothing. He's less of a model parent and more of a deadbeat dad.

He also has no apparent qualms about sending you to your near-death.

His quest for you was "simple," to rephrase his own words. He wanted you to go and find a Telkhine and bring it back alive, so that he could keep, like some sort of dog to lay in front of the hearth in the Big House. As if it was as easy as going to the pet store and bagging up a goldfish, or something.

Nevertheless, you set out to find him one. You headed for the ocean, hoping that the semi-aquatic creatures might be found there. Instead, you found yourself facing off with Carcinus, the very same giant crab that bit Heracles on the foot and became the constellation Cancer. How the damn thing is both a physical presence and a star in the sky is beyond your comprehension.

The battle is short. You're armed only with a xiphos-- a shortsword. You call for help from Dionysus, but you are alone in this. The crab drags you into the bay and nearly drowns you, and you would be dead, if Carcinus hadn't become distracted by a few stray seagulls and lost interest in the fight. Not, however, before you had your belly sliced open by its huge, sharp pincers.

Limping and bleeding profusely from the deep wound across your stomach, you manage to stagger back to the magical border surrounding Camp Half-Blood, where you collapse.

When you wake days later, it's in the Apollo Cabin infirmary. There are bandages wrapped around your abdomen, which is sore and tender, and your head feels hot and fuzzy from being given nectar to drink, to speed-heal your injuries.

Dionysus is lounging in a chair at your side, looking scruffy and bored, as always. One of his few children, you, is lying sick and hurt in bed after a near-death experience, and all he can do is stare in disinterest at you. What you don't see, however, is the flicker of worry behind his usual mask of caustic indifference and snark. He knows that he abandoned you, that it was because of him that you nearly bled out alone and scared and in pain. He could have stepped in, guided you to wield your powers the way other gods do for their sons and daughters.

"You're finally awake," he comments, his voice dry. His gaze roams over you in assessment. "Took you long enough. It's mind-numbing, just sitting here watching you sleep. But Chiron insisted I show some empathy, whatever he meant by that."