Chapter 1, Life 1:

"She's dying. What are we going to do without her?"

"Let her die. The gods and the Fated foretold this. And we won't be without her."

The two, one human and one wolf watched the girl wreathe with pain, her eyes dark and filled with worry and deep agony. She pleaded constantly for help with those terrorized eyes but none was given. Blood was pooling slowly around her neck and thigh. Gashes spread across her body, her raked skin tearing more and festering as she thrashed. Her sea-green eyes and beautiful, lush yet soft jet black hair was spread around her; occasionally shifting back and forth from gray, intimidating dyes and honey blonde hair. The glowing SPQR tattoo with three bar lines underneath and an owl carrying a trident above, gave the only evidence that she was dying a heroic death.

She stared back, her body convulsing and bloody bubbling to the surface of her wounds before cascading over onto her skin and down to the ground. Blood stained her teeth from internal bleeding when she spat or bared her teeth in a snarl at the enemy. But now, she laid, mauled and torn as blood dribbled from the corner of those perfect lips; now bloody red.

As people gathered around the rubble and destruction, they knew that she wasn't going to be the only death. The explosion probably had killed others and buried several more under the stone. She would be only one of many deaths. Yet her death would be a critical one and impact the camp greatly. Without her, the camp would be unsafe. It would fall into chaos and be destroyed once and for all. And her best friends, the one she traveled with from the Wolf House all the way to the camp and wasn't caught without that friend laughing, would be severely hurt and depressed. And here the friend was, watching her die without a single tear on his seven year old face.

"Please...help...me," she gurgled.

Her best friend knelt, holding her bloody hand which had given up on preventing the flow of blood.

"Please...," she said once more, her voice full of agony.

Her best friends stared at her, a tear finally leaking from the corner of his electric blue eyes. She managed to lift her hand and wipe the tear away.

"Be...strong...for...me," she gasped.

"I'll try. But I can't be without you. You're my best friend," the boy said. Yes, her best friend was a boy. And a strong friendship between the opposite gender was always the strongest, even if it didn't seem like it and even if it were mortals instead of what they were.

The girl ran her fingers through his short cropped, whitish-blonde hair that was cut military style almost. He may be trained hard like any other camper but his expression was different. He was nice, but fierce, strong and brave when needed and how should she put it? Cool, chilled or relaxed the rest of the time.

But now, she knew that this wouldn't be him anymore. Once she was gone, he would always be sad. He wouldn't be able to stand hearing her name or stand it walking past her cabins or parent's temples. He wouldn't even be able to stand it going anywhere near her favorite places, including the beach and The Lake. And then one day, another girl would come along that reminded him of her and would hurt him twice as much. Then his emotions would finally break. He would become unstable. Disastrous. Reckless. Take dangerous risks because he had lost it.

This all flashed before her eyes as she ran her fingers down his cheek. She knew him too well and knew this would happen. When she went missing unexpectantly due to the gods, when she got back to the camp, everyone told her that her best friend had been in distress and had changed significantly until she returned.

"Jason...Cots. You can...do...it. You're...strong...brave...fierce and...loyal. You can...make...it...without...me. But...all...I ask...is...for you...to be strong...for me. Please...," she whispered.

He grasped her hand.

"I'll do what I can. But life and camp won't be the same," he replied.

She smiled weakly, managing to not wince.

"I know. But...I'll...always...be...here...with you. After...all...you are...my...best friend. My brother," she said. "But...promise...me though. Promise...me you...will."

His eyes were burning with fresh hot tears now. He didn't want to loose her but no amount of ambrosia or nectar could heal her without her bursting into flames from consuming too much. And there was no water nearby to heal her wounds. She was too weak to call to the ocean for help. If she did, she'd die anyways from using her energy to channel enough power into her. He didn't want her to go yet also.

Her eyes pleaded for him to say those two words. He knew she'd only rest if he did.

"I promise."

She nodded and managed to hug him weakly.

"Thank...you...my...brother," she whispered with her final breath. Her eyes grew distant and her heart slowed. In her vision, things blurred in and out of her vision, leisurely becoming a white light. Finally, with her eyes still open, her hand in her best friend's slacked slowly and fell to the ground by her side. Her friend held his breath, trying to keep from crying. He closed her eyes and stood, facing the campers. The world spun beneath him.

"Christina Blake is dead," he managed to announce, choking up.

But the wolf nearby growled, sniffing at the girl's body cautiously and suspiciously.

"No. Impossible."

The boy turned, his eyes widening. Campers watched, amazed.

The girl's wounds were healing; the blood around her seeping back into her body as if in reverse mode. She was outlined in a golden light. The more blood that returned to her body, the more she glowed with the light. The last wound on her neck closed up and the light glowed brighter around her body. Then the light began to die but still outlining her body. But when they could see again, she looked different.

She was wearing a Roman chiton with golden armbands that delicately encircled her biceps. Gold earrings and necklaces shaped her face, making her twice as pretty. Her skin was flawless, free of cuts and scars and it looked soft. At least six golden bracelets in different designs and patterns that seemed to go together, sat on her wrist. Her jet black hair was newly washed and combed. It was loosely braided with gold wrapping around his. And she was in Roman sandals, laced with more gold.

"No. This can't be happening. This is impossible!" the wolf growled, stepping away from the body.

Then without a warning, a miracle happened right before everyone's eyes.

Her eyes flew open, the irises unnaturally glowing bright sea-green and full of power and deep, promising revenge.