Hippocoon land

The pace slowed, the great body easing to rest. Darkness swallowed the light outside. Columns rose from the black earth, oil lamps burning atop them, their glow faint against the vast night. “Disembark,” Grogon rumbled. “Your journey with me ends here.” The doors slid open. One by one, children filed out, gathering beneath the lamps, dwarfed by the dragon’s colossal bulk. Aiden’s husky voice cut through the murmurs. “Stay close! The dark here is not kind.” He raised his flickering oil lamp, its glow carving a narrow path forward. Heracles, Gwen, and Amelinda fell in line, walking with the others along the dim trail. Whispers flickered and died quickly as nerves tightened. Eyes darted to every shifting shadow, but no one dared fall behind. At last, the path opened to a wide river. Dark water stretched silently into the gloom, boats waiting along the bank. Hooded boatmen stood motionless by their vessels, faces hidden, lamps glinting faintly off the curve of their oars. Aiden stepped int...

The compartment was warmer than Heracles expected—soft benches lined either side, a narrow aisle running between. Amelinda and Gwen slipped in behind him, taking the seats nearest the door. “So this is real,” Heracles murmured, still uneasy. “Feels real enough,” Gwen replied, smirking. “First time?” Heracles nodded. “Yeah. First anything like this.” “There’s plenty they never let us see unless we’re chosen,” Gwen said quietly. Amelinda leaned forward, her braid slipping over her shoulder. “They’re incredible. When I first read about ground dragons in the Histories of the Gods , I thought it was just a legend. Grogon’s terrifying—fastest and longest creature alive. Its scales can’t be pierced, and its venom is said to kill even half-bloods.” Gwen whistled. “Comforting. And here we are, riding inside it.” “What about that shadow thing?” Heracles asked. “The Shadow-shifter?” Amelinda’s brow furrowed in thought. “Only a few lines. A shadow born from nothing, able to move th...

They stood beneath a marble colonnade, the air unnaturally still. Other children clustered nearby, whispering in nervous tones. “So… what now?” Amelinda asked. “We wait,” Gwen said confidently. “The carrier comes to take us.” “The carrier?” Heracles frowned. “Who—what is that?” “Beats me.” Gwen shrugged. “Everyone talks about it, but no one ever says what it is.” Before Heracles could press, a round blot of blackness slid across the floor—flat and liquid, moving like spilled ink. “There!” Amelinda pointed, her voice sharp. “Are those… eyes?” Two narrow white slits gleamed within the shadow. “And a mouth,” Gwen muttered. The shape glided forward, silent but deliberate. Suddenly, the floor beneath several children dropped away, as if the marble itself had melted. They vanished with startled cries, their shouts cut off by heavy thuds. “Watch out!” someone screamed. Panic exploded. The crowd scattered, sandals slapping the stone, bags clattering to the floor. The black mass stretched and s...

“Heracles, wake up! We’re late.” Amelinda’s voice yanked him from uneasy sleep. He blinked, yawning, and pushed upright against the wall. “I was just… trying something,” he mumbled. “Hurry! We’re already at the gate,” Amelinda called, striding off. Groggy, Heracles tugged on a suit, slung his bag over his shoulder, and bolted. He barreled down the stairs, across the hall, through the garden, and into the waiting carriage. The Old Gardener sat at the reins. Heracles greeted him quickly before climbing inside. His mother, July, and Amelinda were already seated. Alcmene, draped in a white chiton that lent her an almost divine glow, gestured to the seat opposite her. “Here, Heracles,” she said gently. “Go on, Old Gardener,” July said, and the carriage lurched forward. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be at Hippocoon,” Alcmene said softly. Her gaze lingered on her son. “Take care of yourself. And Amelinda. Don’t be stubborn, don’t do anything foolish. Follow the rules—they’ll keep you safe.” ...