Chapter 1: The Letters from Hippocoon

1. The Map, the Shop, and the Shadowed Eyes

Morning light streamed through the cracked window of Alcmene’s stone manor, spilling gold across the kitchen’s rough-hewn walls.

Heracles slouched at the scarred table, thumb worrying at a splinter. A memory pressed at him—shadows slipping into the night, his mother’s trembling hand gripping his shoulder.

Across from him, Amelinda wrestled a blackened loaf. Her knife skidded uselessly against its crust.
“This thing’s tougher than Minotaur hide,” she muttered, curls falling into her face.

Gwen lounged by the wall, an apple spinning through his fingers, grin sharp enough to start trouble. Outside, his family’s polished carriage gleamed in the morning sun, the wiry coachman perched stiff on the bench.
“Give it up, Amelinda,” Gwen called, snatching the apple mid-spin. “Bread’s winning. I came here to be a legend, not a baker.”

Heracles tipped his chair back with a smirk. “Legend? You’re more like a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Disaster?” Gwen’s grin widened, eyes alight. “Please. I’m bigger than Icarus flying too close to the sun.”

Amelinda huffed, shoving her hair aside. “Big words for someone who could burn water. Help me before my mom—July—skins me alive.”

The air quivered. A faint hum stirred, and three doves burst through the window, wings scattering motes of silver light. Their eyes glowed gold, uncanny and unblinking. Each bore a scroll bound to its leg. One landed before Heracles, another before Amelinda. The third clipped Gwen’s apple, knocking it to the floor before settling smugly in his lap.

“By the gods!” Gwen fumbled for the scroll, eyes gleaming. “Magic mail? This is bigger than Prometheus stealing fire.”

Heracles’s chair screeched as he jolted upright. His hand hovered over the scroll. The wax seal— a lion wreathed in flames—flared, then vanished in a hiss of smoke. His pulse hammered as he broke it open.
“Listen…” he breathed.

Heracles, son of Alcmene,
The divine spark in your blood commands your presence at Hippocoon Academy, where heroes are forged, at the rise of the new moon. Refusal risks the gods’ wrath and a life unfulfilled. Visit the All-for-You Shop before dusk tomorrow—its doors open only once this season. A map is enclosed. On departure day, present yourself at the Temple of Athena at dawn. The path will open.
—Professor Finn, Headmaster

Heracles’s thumb lingered on the parchment, his brow knotted. His chest pulled tight.
“Divine spark?” he muttered. “They say Zeus fathered my grandfather… but this feels more like a chain than a gift.”

Across the table, Amelinda wrestled with the silver thread binding her scroll. It snapped loose, and her grin burst wide. “I’m in too! Listen!”

She read aloud, voice tumbling over itself with excitement:

Amelinda, daughter of July,
The gift within you demands awakening at Hippocoon Academy, where heroes are forged, at the rise of the new moon. Refusal risks the gods’ wrath and a life unfulfilled. Visit the All-for-You Shop before dusk tomorrow—its doors open only once this season. A map is enclosed. On departure day, present yourself at the Temple of Athena at dawn. The path will open.
—Professor Finn, Headmaster

She clutched the scroll to her chest, bouncing like lightning lived under her skin. But a flicker of doubt tugged at her eyes—housekeeper’s kid, always scrubbing floors, now called to stand with heroes? She squared her shoulders. “It knows me. I’m going to Hippocoon! What—thought they’d skip me, Gwen?”

Gwen tore his scroll open and whooped, nearly knocking over a chair. “By Olympus! All three of us!” He waved the parchment so the lion seal flashed in the light. “This is straight-up Olympian epic.”

Heracles blinked between them. “All of us? Together?”

“You bet!” Gwen smacked the table, bread leaping from its plate. “And All-for-You shuts at dusk tomorrow. Lucky for you, my coachman’s ready.”

Amelinda arched a brow, though her eyes sparkled. “Your coachman breaks half the wheels he touches. Still… the letter says it’s now or never.”

The kitchen door creaked open. Alcmene stepped in, sunlight at her back, her smile warming the room like a second dawn.
“What’s this noise?” she teased.

Heracles thrust his scroll forward, his pulse racing. “Mom—we’ve been summoned. Hippocoon Academy. All three of us.”

Her gaze skimmed the parchment. A shadow crossed her features, then softened into a smile. She set a hand on his shoulder. “This is your path, my love. Hippocoon will show you who you’re meant to be.” Her eyes swept to Amelinda and Gwen. “Stay together. Promise me.”

“Swear it, Miss Alcmene!” Gwen saluted, grin wide. “My coachman will get us there in style. Might only get us a little lost.”

Amelinda snorted. “A little? We’ll circle till sunrise.”

July appeared in the doorway, apron dusted with flour. Her sharp eyes softened on Amelinda’s scroll, pride flickering before she gave Alcmene a small nod.
“Hippocoon called you, Amelinda. You answer.” She fixed Gwen and Heracles with a look. “And you two—keep her safe.”

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