Cyrus quickly learned that Camp Half-Blood had a rhythm of its own—an endless, vibrant loop of training, learning, healing, and battling. It was chaotic in a strangely peaceful way, and over the next week, he fell into the rhythm with surprising ease.
Archery became his morning routine. The Apollo cabin practically lived at the range, and while many of his siblings were good, Cyrus quickly stood out. His arrows didn't just hit the target—they sang. Literally. His arrows would hum a soft melody as they flew, striking with pinpoint precision. He didn't even realize he was enchanting them until Annabeth blinked at him after a session and muttered, "Okay, that's cheating."
"Did you—did you just make the arrows sing?" she asked, incredulous.
Cyrus shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I'm more of a musical archer than I thought."
Annabeth rolled her eyes but smiled. "Well, that's a new one."
Then came the axe.
Most campers trained with swords or spears, but Cyrus's twin-headed celestial bronze axe—which he often materialized instead of a bow from his ring—earned him more than a few curious glances. In the sparring arena, he was a whirlwind. His strength, paired with his speed and grace, turned each duel into something like a brutal dance. Even seasoned campers struggled to keep up.
Thalia was finally released from the infirmary after a thorough check by Chiron to ensure she was fully healed. She wasted no time jumping into activities. Whether it was climbing the lava rock wall, sparring, or just lazing in the sun with a cherry coke, she, Luke, and Cyrus quickly fell back into an easy camaraderie.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Thalia muttered one afternoon, nursing a bruise on her shoulder after a practice match. "You swing that thing like you've been doing it since birth."
"Not quite birth," Cyrus replied with a teasing grin, tossing her a water bottle. "Started practicing while on the run with you guys, remember?"
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Well, it paid off."
But the most surprising thing about camp life wasn't the battles or the training—it was the healing. When Cyrus first placed his hands on a scraped-up camper's leg and whispered a prayer to Apollo, the wound shimmered and vanished within seconds. Word spread quickly. Soon enough, he was being pulled aside after matches to help patch people up. Unlike the other Apollo kids, who had to concentrate or tire themselves out, his healing came easily—too easily.
"Dude," one camper whispered, staring at his mended wrist. "You're like… a walking health potion."
"More like a sunshine band-aid," Cyrus joked.
His easygoing nature helped him blend in effortlessly. He had a habit of chatting with anyone nearby, cracking jokes during training, and helping carry gear without being asked. He even learned a few satyr and nymph's names from the strawberry fields, much to their delight.
By the end of the week, Cyrus had a group of campers he could laugh with at meals, train with in the mornings, and even play the occasional impromptu game of lava-tag. He was no longer just 'the new kid'—he was one of them.
Then came the announcement.
"CapturetheFlag is happening tomorrow night," Chiron said at the evening campfire, his deep voice carrying across the flickering flames. "Zeus, Apollo, Ares, Demeter, and Aphrodite cabins will be defending. The rest of the cabins will form the opposing team."
Thalia, seated beside Cyrus, grinned. "This'll be fun."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "You say that now, but I'm on the opposing team."
Thalia narrowed her eyes, a playful glint in them. "Then I know it'll be fun."
The day of the game, excitement buzzed through the camp. The woods were dark and thick with tension as campers took their positions. The teams had been divided, and a palpable sense of competition filled the air.
Raymond Davis, the counselor of Ares cabin, stood tall before the group of defenders. He was a towering figure, with short-cropped brown hair and a sharp jawline. His muscular build suggested years of battle experience, and his jagged scar across his cheek only added to his intimidating aura. When he spoke, his voice was low and commanding.
"Alright, listen up," Raymond said. He gestured to a hand-drawn map in the dirt. "We hold the line here and here—Demeter cabin, you cover the east trail. Aphrodite, stick close to the flag and charm anyone who gets too close. Apollo, your job is long-range. Cyrus, I want you to sow confusion on the front line."
"You got it," Cyrus nodded, exchanging a fist bump with a tall Demeter girl named Leah Greystone. Leah had long, dark brown hair tied into a braid, with striking green eyes that reminded Cyrus of the forest. She was strong, too, built like a brick wall, and had a habit of cracking jokes in the middle of training.
Leah grinned. "Hope your magic arrows don't turn the whole forest into a musical again."
"Not this time," Cyrus said with a wink, "unless you think the forest could use a little jazz."
Next to Leah was Jules Sinclair, a tall, blonde Aphrodite camper with a mischievous grin. Her blue eyes were framed by perfectly styled curls, and her laugh could charm the birds out of the trees. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and leaned in close to Cyrus.
"I think I'm going to like having you on my team," she said with a sly smile. "You know, if I wasn't already taken, I'd say you'd make a perfect match."
Cyrus laughed, enjoying the playful flirtation. "I'm already spoken for by the axe."
Adam, the Apollo counselor, nudged him. "Try not to break the forest with your music magic this time."
"No promises," Cyrus grinned.
The game began in a flurry of movement, as the defenders dug in and the opposing team advanced. From his spot in the trees, Cyrus began to hum—a slow, haunting melody that echoed through the trunks. It wasn't loud, but it carried just enough for the intruders to hear.
"Is that music?" someone whispered from the enemy side.
"It's creepy…" another replied.
And then the arrows began.
Cyrus's enchanted arrows weren't just accurate—they were unnerving. They zipped past heads, struck shields with loud cracks, and pinned sleeves to trees without harming the campers. Panic set in, and the defenders swooped down, taking advantage of the confusion.
"Go! Now!" Thalia shouted, lightning crackling around her spear.
In the confusion, Cyrus raced ahead with Raymond and a younger Ares camper named Toby Crane. Toby was shorter than most of the Ares kids but wiry and fast. His dark brown hair stuck up at odd angles, and his sharp green eyes flashed with excitement. Toby had the energy of someone who lived for combat, and his enthusiasm was infectious.
The moment Cyrus spotted the flag, he tossed two stun arrows into the guarding campers' feet—bursting with sound and flash—and grabbed the fabric.
Back on their side, campers roared in victory.
"You just single-handedly won us the game," Thalia declared, clapping him on the back.
"Hey, it was teamwork," Cyrus replied, grinning. "I just provided the background music."
Later that night, around the campfire, everyone was talking about the game.
"I heard someone wet themselves in the woods," Leah whispered to Cyrus, her green eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Someone thought the forest was haunted," Jules giggled from the other side of the fire.
Raymond grunted with a rare smile. "Next time, warn us before you turn the forest into a musical horror show."
Chiron smiled from the edge of the fire, and even Mr. D gave an approving grunt.
As Cyrus leaned back beside his friends, his axe beside him and his bow slung over his shoulder, he couldn't help but smile. The stars above twinkled in approval, and for the first time in a long while, he felt exactly where he was meant to be.