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“-and he always knows what to say at the right times.” Every few minutes during our pursuit of the rest of the crew, I would tell myself that I’m talking way too much about Joel. Calypso’s ears are probably bleeding. But I couldn’t help myself. Some of me thought that, even though I hadn’t been showing signs of forgetting anything about Joel, talking about him would keep him in my brain.

I adjusted my bow and quiver on my shoulder, wishing I could shut my mouth and that my chest would stop aching. Calypso sighed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I wish I had a younger brother like yours sometimes,” she said, stretching her arms high. “He is a little cutie though. It’s no wonder the nymphs can’t keep their hands off him.” I felt really bad for Calypso. She’s such an amazing person to have to get stuck on an island for hundreds of years. On our journey down the beach of this super long island, she told me about her father- gone all the time, anger issues, like many other heroes’ stories- and her siblings. None of them sounded very great to be around. She stared at the sand with a sad smile, the disappearing sun causing her skin to shine like gold. “Sometimes I wish-“

When she didn’t finish her sentence, I turned to look at her. But she was gone. I was alone on the shore. Her tracks were visible next to mine up until about 5 feet ago, like someone plucked her off the beach. “Calypso?” No answer. I didn’t see anything move in the forested center. What the-

“Son of Apollo.”

I whipped back around towards the beach and the voice- and then had to keep myself from gagging. A terribly angry looking satyr stood in the sand with large, pointy, cream-white horns sticking about a foot from his head. His dark eyes glared at me through knitted eyebrows, and a large golden nosering hung just over his lips. He held an insanely large mace in his right hand and a dagger in his left. Everything waist-up was fine. It was when I looked further down that I felt the blood draining from my face. Where his furry coat should be was raw, bleeding muscle contorted and twisted with his movements. His goat-half didn’t have any skin.

“Do you know who I am, boy?” he asked menacingly. His voice was low and subdued, but I could feel the power and hate behind it. I just shook my head, unable to speak. My eyes tracked a gentle stream of blood trickling down his hoof. “I am the satyr Marsyas. Your father skinned me after ‘winning’ a biased challenge of music.” To be honest, it didn’t surprise me. My father, like most gods and goddesses thousands of years ago, was quite the jerk. “He stole my hide and killed me in the process. In return, I will kill you, his prized hero, in the slowest way possible.”

I had no clue what part of mythology he was from. Marsyas sounded Greek though. And what’s that about being his prized hero? Was I told that at some point? “I’m not really his-“

He interrupted me, almost like he was talking to himself and forgot I was there. “I will cut off your appendages one by one, followed by removing your eyes and tongue and carving off your skin. You will feel my centuries of pain tenfold.”

I gulped. That didn’t seem too pleasant. “I don’t think it would be too much of a loss to my father,” I said, knocking an arrow quickly as he began to approach me. “At least not as much as you’d like. He’s never shown a special interest.” My thoughts raced. The others were probably going through similar situations based on their parentage. Somehow we’re each in separate… separate realities or something, which is why we can’t see each other. Some sort of magic. “What did my father do with your hide once he killed you?”

My retelling of his horrible fate seemed not to be the right thing to say. He growled in frustration and raced towards me at full goat-speed. Without thought and him now about ten feet from me, I aimed at his shoulder and shot. It hit the mark, as always, but my eyes widened as I watched it bounce off harmlessly. Panic set in. My shots always went through. I gripped my bow in its fighting position and just had the time to brace before Marsyas jump-kicked his hooves into my chest.

For two or three numbing seconds, I was flying through the air. Then I felt my newly-healed ribs crack as I crashed into the trunk of a tree yards away. Pain shot through my body. He swung his mace forebodingly as he approached. Get up. You have to get up. Joel needs you with your appendages attached and your skin intact.

Black spots swarmed my vision as I braced against the tree. “The River Styx has some amazing magic,” he gloated, meandering my way. He’s just toying with me now. Styx. So… he’s invincible, right? That’s what the Styx does? Or does it put you to sleep? No, that’s the Lethe… Invincibility… There’s a weak spot somewhere… Form a plan. You can only try to outwit him now. “You can run if you'd like. However, I do not prefer to play with my food before eating it.”

I quickly stepped away from him in the direction of the beach. Keep your eyes open. Pass out later. Defeat goat now. I put on my best despair face. “So there’s no hope for me?” I muttered, walking backwards to the water. I was distracted enough to hate the feeling of sand in my shoes. Focus!

Marsyas smirked with satisfaction as he followed me, leaving a trail of blood drops in the sand behind him. “You may as well give up now. I will not make it any less painful.” With this he struck out with the dagger. I jumped left, but not before he sliced deep in the side of my knee. I grimaced at the feeling of blood gushing down into my shoes, mixing with the gritty sand. Ugh, how disgusting. That feeling alone was enough to make me want to vomit.

I supported my weight with my remaining leg. At least that little lunge had put him where I needed him for my plan to work. I exaggerated my pain- which, believe me, wasn’t difficult- and hobbled slowly back, bow gripped tightly in hand. He continued forward, now off-guard and believing he was in complete control. When he reached about four feet from me, I took my chance. I lunged at him with the end of my bow. Upon seeing the Imperial gold, he staggered backwards out of habit.

Once his calves reached the ocean water, my suspicion was confirmed: he roared and crumpled into the sea, screaming in pain caused by the salty water touching his bare muscle. I winced at the sound and at having to touch the waves, but pushed onward and shoved him further down with my bowstring. His head was almost fully submerged. He screamed and gasped for air and writhed in the tide all at the same time. I pushed my good knee down on his neck and knocked an arrow to my bow, gritting my teeth at the stinging from my own wound. I racked my brain for ideas, blocking out his yells and struggling to keep him under me. Where would he place his weak spot? Think about his story… Probably not on the muscle, not on the head… Definitely not the left side of his body, considering most opponents are right-handed and could intentionally or accidentally scratch it. It has to be the right side. The part of the right side of the body that’s closest to his core.

I just guessed. I aimed the arrow to the right of his navel, where his arm would normally protect it. His eyes widened and he slowed his fight, and I knew I’d aimed right. “What did my father do with your hide?” I asked, this time with more force.

For a moment we just winced and panted together in that position, staring each other down. I started to get a little paranoid: he’s thinking up an escape plan. He’s called someone to come help him. I should just kill him now and save me a lot of trouble. As if that wasn’t bad enough, my body started to shake from kneeling in the freezing water, and from the blood I was losing. But finally he was able to groan an answer to me. “He hung it by the Aulocrene Lake. However it has been moved to Lake Erie, since the change of Westernization.”

That’s on the way back to camp. Perfect. I felt pretty terrible for Marsyas, especially since my dad had done the damage- a little less so after he attacked me, but still. I loosened my arrow and pulled it back slowly, staring directly into his pain-filled eyes that stared right back. “I swear on the River Styx that I will return it to you,” I whispered, meaning every word.

The hurt in his eyes disappeared and was replaced with a mixture of hope, excitement, awe, and disbelief. “I will hold you to your oath.” I warily stood and pulled him up with me. Good thing he had some strength left, because he was a lot heavier than he looked and I almost dropped him, which would’ve ruined the moment. This close, inches apart, he stood maybe a whole foot above my height. “Your friends are fighting their own separate battles,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine. It’s almost like if we stop looking at each other, my promise was never made and we’d go back to fighting. “They must be done in their own time. I can delay Nyx for a little while, but you and your company should hurry.”

Just like Calypso, Marsyas disappeared into thin air. I staggered back from the cold, stinging ocean and fell into the sand. Dang, my leg hurts like Hell. My chest throbbed as well. As I took out some first aid supplies from my small pack, I glanced around, hoping to find one of the others who had already finished their “sessions”. I couldn’t see anyone. The black spots clouded my sight again, now accompanied by extreme lightheadedness. I had no idea what I was using to bandage the wound, and I thought that was ambrosia I ate. It tasted just as bad.

I lay my head back on the beach, panting. I didn’t know I was this tired. Just need to sleep. Just a nap. Just for a little while…