Guess who made that picture. I did! I'm so proud of myself. Anyways, to the story!

The time wasn't right for another two years. And his mother never got the chance to tell him anything.

Allison, or Ally as she was called by the island residents, had grown into a healthy six year old. She had become the younger sister neither of the now ten year old children had ever had.

Her dog was named Styx, after the River in the Underworld, though Ryker was completely certain that it was spelled 'Sticks' since that seemed to be the only thing the dog ever ate. It was harder than Ryker had thought to raise the puppy.

Sometimes he had accidents in the living room or chewed up the couch cushions when they were eating dinner. And no matter how much they tried, since it couldn't at all be healthy for the him, they couldn't get the dog to stop eating every branch that lay on the ground.

"Will you stop that?" Milli demanded as she was splashed by her best friend yet again. "I'm trying to read over here!"

Ryker climbed to his feet and raced up the sandy beach, shaking his hair out all over the girl. "Ryker!" Milli cried out indignantly as water spots appeared over her book, "When I'm done with you, being Shark Bait isn't the only thing you'll have to worry about!"

She grabbed her wooden sword from beneath her chair and swung out, placing the book on her chair. "Styx!" Ryker called, "Fetch my sword!"

The dog came hurtling out of the woods, the blade in his mouth, and Ally hot on his trail, her own weapon in hand. "Thanks, buddy," he said as he parried one of Milli's thrusts. "You gotta do better than that, Smarty Pants."

It had taken him all of twenty months to come up with that one. No matter how much Milli tried to convince him that it wasn't an insult, he wouldn't have it. 'Shark Bait isn't an insult either,' he reasoned, 'It just means I'm probably gonna get eaten by a shark.'

Within thirty minutes the trio was lying exhausted on the ground, Styx still dancing in happy circles around them. Ryker peered at his younger sister through his peripheral vision. She was happy, he thought, She doesn't need to know.

No one had the heart to tell the little girl that she hadn't always been a part of the small island family. At her age, she should be able to remember her life, even before appearing, bruised and batter, in her basket. Yet, aside from the occasional nightmare, she didn't show any signs of stress or trauma.

Finally, he stood up, grinning. "C'mon, Ally," he said, slinging the girl onto his back in a piggyback position, "Mom's baking brownies back at the house." Milli stood up as well, brushing the sand from her clothes and grabbing her belongings.

"I can only assume that I'm invited, too," Milli commented drily, "Otherwise you might have an unhappy civilian barging through your house tonight." Ryker looked at her for a split second, blinking, before he took off, Ally clinging for dear life on his back.

Milli was way faster than him, since she was nimbler, taller, and didn't have the luggage of an extra person. She leaned down a little to talk into Ally's ear as she dropped from Ryker's back. "Let's go, Koala. We've got some parents to spy on."

They crept into the living room, paying no mind to the still open door. "What do you think they're up to?" Ryker asked quietly.

The adults were huddled over the coffee table, the only sound reaching the children's ears mutterings and the occasional clatter. Ryker's eyes widened. He stepped into the open and crossed his arms.

"What do you think you're doing?" He demanded, watching a terrified look spread over their faces, "Are you playing Monopoly without me?"

He leaped onto the couch cushions and nestled himself into his mother's side. He didn't like to admit it, because most of the kids his age call people who like their parents babies, but he was a total momma's boy. He helped her bake in the kitchen and with the laundry. He told her all about his days and complained about the other children. And if he was being totally honest with himself, he liked his mom better than his dad. But don't tell him that.

"I saved the boat for you," she said, handing him the token, "Roll the dice."

Ryker grinned, reaching out, before pausing as an angry roar ripped through the air. "Whose turn is it?" His mother asked tiredly.

His dad only shrugged, so he held out his hand in a fist. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine."

Milli's father leaned over to the boy. "Your mom wins at everything. But your dad is as lucky as four leaf clover covered horseshoe. So if they tie they count it as a win for him."

They ended up tying with scissors. "Alright," she groaned, tapping a finger on her charm bracelet, "You can take my turn for me, Ally." She left without another word.

The girl cocked her head. "Where's Mommy going?" She asked, "And why does she keep hitting that poor elephant on the head?"

"She uses it to win," her father told her, "That elephant is a powerful weapon."

The game went on in silence, only interrupted by a loud scream. "That sounded like mom!" Ryker yelled, turning to look out the window. Before anyone could stop him, he went dashing out the still open door.

"Ryker, wait!" His dad shouted after him. He turned to Milli's father, saying, "Whatever you do, don't let them out of the house."

Milli stared after them worriedly. "What's happening, Dad?" Her father put an arm around both of them.

"Nothing important, kiddo," he muttered, knowing his daughter saw right through his lies, "Why don't we finish our game?"

Her gray eyes shone with concern. "What about Ryker? Why can't we leave the house? I need to find him."
.
"No, you need to take your turn," he said, pushing the dice into her hands, "You can even take his turn for him."

She paused for a second, as if considering his offer, before running out of the house. Ally leaped up to join her. "Me too!"

"Oh, no, you don't," Milli's father grunted, catching her and pulling the girl into his lap, "You're the only one in this house I can still control. And you are going to play Monopoly with me so I don't look like a friendless loser."

________________

Ryker pushed through the undergrowth, foregoing the path for the quickest route possible. He heard the voice come again, this time an angered yell. "Come and get it, Knucklehead!"

He peeked through a bush, watching his mother fight a multi-headed monster. A blast of fire was deflected by one of her two blades, turning the metal white hot before it faded. It was a leaf shaped bronze sword that didn't look any more special than the other one, but when acid splashed on her bronze two-foot blade, it was melted into a puddle, half of an elephant engraving still peeking out from the hilt.

"Kaitlyn!" Ryker's father yelled, joining her with a staff topped with a sharp wreath shaped set of blades. Ryker watched in fascination as the Hydra whipped around from side to side, spraying acid and fire but never touching either one of his parents. "Did Ryker come out here?" He heard his father ask.

"No," his mother replied, grunting as she blocked one of the hydra's heads with her sword, "Didn't I tell the both of you to let me handle this?"

"He heard you scream," his dad retorted indignantly, "The boy's so fast he could be the son of Hermes."

Son of Hermes, Ryker mused, Hermes was a god. But no. They are my parents. My parents who are... fighting one of the most deadly creatures of Greek Mythology.

The boy was confused now. Those stories weren't true. They couldn't be true. Myths were myths for a reason. Made up stories to explain the occurrences of life.

Except it was the only thing that could explain this occurrence, and it wasn't made up.

He rubbed his eyes. It would go away, he thought, It's just a dream.

When he opened his eyes, his parents were in a much more perilous situation. His mother had her back to a tree, desperately dodging acid attacks and parrying razor sharp teeth. His father was no better off. Five of the heads were on him from every direction, tearing gouges in his skin that would haunt the boy forever.

There was a crack as one head slammed into a tree with so much force it came crashing down. His mother hadn't heard. If he called out now, it would distract her. If he didn't, she was dead anyway.

"Mom! Roll!"

Her reflexes were sharp enough that she saved her own life before staring at her son in shock. "Ryker!" She yelled, stabbing one of the Hydra heads in the eye, "What are you doing here?"

"I had to make sure you were okay!"

"Go back to the villa," his mother demanded, "We'll be fine."

Ryker knew they wouldn't be. They kept on slicing and stabbing at the hydra's body, at anywhere but the necks, but it wasn't doing much damage to it at all. He had heard this story over and over again. Fire. That was the only way they could even the playing field. And they had none of it.

There was a disgusting shlop sound as one head fell, spasming, to the ground. "No!" He managed to say, just as his mother shot fire from her blade.

"No way," he breathed, suddenly excited, "That's so cool!"

It was a bad move on his part. The Hydra might not have such great eyesight, but it definitely heard the yell of a child, and it could definitely smell the power of the demigod.

All of its seven heads turned to face him. In his awe, he didn't notice it until it was much too late to do anything about the fangs and acid headed his way. His mother was much faster.

He was shoved to the side, his mother covering him like a shield as they bounced across the grass. "Next time," she scolded, "Stay out of it. Run. Play Monopoly with Mr. Evanston and Ally and Milli. Just go."

Ryker's father swung his sword at the beast, taking out head after head and leaving the stumps to be burned by his wife until there was only one left. It roared, whipping through the air faster than anyone could have seen coming. Without the added weight of its other heads, it was much more agile.

It slammed him into the treehouse, cracking one of the walls, before he fell seven feet on his back. "Kyle!" Came his mother's pained yell. She ran to him, leaving Ryker undefended yet again.

"Styx," Ryker managed to call weakly, "Fetch my sword." The dog came bursting out of the trees, wagging his tail happily. As his eyes fell upon the monster, they glowed red. It dropped the blade to the ground, leaping towards the monster.

Styx was still young. A full adult, by dog standards, but inexperienced when it came to fighting. Yet, he was able to avoid the acid the splashed against the once vibrant green grass and get a couple of scratches and bites at the Hydra's flank.

Ryker gripped his sword in his hand and took a swing at the Hydra. "Ryker!" His mother yelled out at him, "I told you to go. Your father and I will handle this!"

His father was having trouble standing. No visible injuries, but at least a couple of broken ribs and a concussion. Ryker spun, taking his focus off of the monster. "No! You need my help!"

His mother was already running toward him. The boy had no idea why, but as he turned, watching the beast's huge jaws open toward him, he was frozen in fear.

He was shoved again, but this time, there was no protective warmth curling around him. There were no arms stopping the pebbles from tearing into his skin. Only two harsh palms shoving him out of the way, and the yell of a woman in pain.

The Hydra had sunk its teeth into her left arm, and with one last move, she plunged her sword into its heart. It collapsed, slowly fading away to a fine golden dust. His mother fell to her knees, and his father crawled his way over to her.

"Kaitlyn," he muttered fearfully, "Please. Ambrosia and nectar at the house. You've been through worse. Get up." He tried to prop her up, but he was still weak.

"Poison," his mother groaned, the flesh of her arm turning black and already spreading, "Take care of Ryker. You know it wasn't his fault. I'm the child of Nike. I always win."

She stumbled as she attempted to stand. "Even at the cost of my own life."

"N-No," his father stuttered, on the verge of tears, "I was just lucky. It thought I was dead. I hit the plush curtains. Please. It was supposed to be me first. That was what the Fates told us when we accepted him."

"The Fates are women. They change their minds," Kaitlyn murmured, taking another staggered step toward the house, "You know that better than anyone."

Ryker was frozen. His mother was about to die.

And if she did, it would be all his fault.

The darkness had spread even farther, corrupting most of her torso. He had to get help. What was his father saying about ambrosia and nectar? Mr. Evanston would know.

So he ran. He ran as fast as he could toward the house. On the way, he crashed into another body. "Milli?" He asked incredulously. He could see the questions forming in her mouth, but he stopped her before she could say anything. "Never mind. Come on, we need to get your dad."

"Wha-?" She was cut off by her best friend dragging her back the way she came. As she ran, she forced out, "Ryker, what are you doing? Where are your parents?"

"My mom's going to die if we don't get her help," he shouted back as he burst through the door, "Mr. Evanston? Where are you? Ambrosia, nectar! We need to go!"

Milli's father didn't even hesitate. He was at the door in the blink of an eye with a thermos and a plastic bag of cake in his hands. "Where? When? How bad is it?"

"Under the treehouse," Ryker panted, tired from running, "It was ridiculous. Fire from a sword and splosh! and No, Kyle! and Ow! Poisonous bite."

He saw his parents huddled together in the dirt. His father was crying, holding her head with both of his hands and pressing their foreheads together. He had never seen his father cry before. His father was very possibly the strongest person he knew.

"Please, Kaitlyn," he sobbed into her still darkening form, "I saw Ryker run off. He's probably got Johnny over here with a bag of ambrosia by now. Hang on. Hang on."

"Kyle!" Mr. Evanston yelled out, throwing the bag of ambrosia and running with the thermos. His dad was so depressed he let the baggie smack right into the side of his head before picking it up off of the ground and placing some in Kaitlyn's mouth.

The darkness slowed, but didn't stop. "Kyle, stop," his mother groaned, "I'm going to burn up if you keep feeding me anyway. It is as the Fates have decided. The Fates have also decided our son is to be a hero. Do not let your anger stop that."

"But it's his fault."

His mother shook her head. "No. He gave me a purpose. He gave me a family. In doing so he might have doomed me, but he also saved me. My father's favorite quote was pain is the price we pay for love. Soon, you will understand that."

"No, I don't want to understand. I just want you to live."

His mother closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Kyle. And I love you."

Ryker was watching only from a distance, and nothing in her position had changed, but Ryker knew she was dead. He knew it in the pain and guilt that stabbed into his heart. He knew it in the ever darkening sky. It was going to rain. How fitting.

By the time the first drop hit his face he felt Mr. Evanston tugging at his arm. "Come on, Ryker. We should get out of the rain."

In his dull mind the boy wondered if his mother's face was wet because of the rain, or because of his father's tears. He wasn't moving, and it was apparent that he wasn't going to, so Milli clung to his arm instead and motioned for her father to tend to the broken couple.

Another drop hit his face. This startled him. Something inside of him snapped. His mother was gone.

His mother, who taught him how to surf.

His mother, who always took time out of her day for him.

His mother, who made his father whole.

His mother, who loved him unconditionally.

She was dead. And along with her, a little part of his heart.

Ryker ripped his arm out of Milli's grip, blinking away tears before anyone else could see them. He knew this forest like the back of his hand. He darted around trees and through the undergrowth as the rain began to pound down harder.

He paid no mind to the branches that sliced through his skin and sent his own blood splattering to the ground. He couldn't see anything but a dull gray. He couldn't feel anything but a buzzing in his fingertips and unquenchable aches in his heart. The world was screaming but still, nothing.

Even when he reached his destination, an alcove in the side of a rock face, he couldn't quell his emotions. The storm reflected that. And it was directly mirrored in his eyes.

First, it was a drizzle, that bit of rain that put a shadow over your entire day.

Then, it was pouring, grief and pain crashing against the windows, blinding you.

Next came the torrents of water that ripped away at anything weaker than stone. The one that flooded streets and moved cars.

What followed was truly trauma inspiring.

Ryker's sea green eyes, usually the calm of the sea on a bright sunny day had morphed into a hurricane more devastating than anything the world had ever seen.

Green tinged with red and encased in anger, sorrow, and such a brokenness you would have thought that his eyes had been shattered into thousands of pieces. The sea that destroyed homes, that killed people, that smashed vessels against the rocks.

The enraged ocean that could wipe out millions.

When the small hand reached out and touched his cheek, nothing could have restrained his roaring anger. His eyes were open, but blind, and he swung with every ounce of pain he was feeling. There had to be a way to be rid of it. There had to pass it to something else.

His fist connected with a soft surface. A face. Milli.

No.

Color returned. He could feel guilt flood through him. Not just for Milli, but also for his mother, who died for him, because of him. For Johnny Evanston, who had lost his best friend. For his father, whose one true love had been ripped away from him.

He deserved to feel this pain. He knew it. And even if he didn't, Milli was the last person alive who did. He saw the purpling form of a bruise on her face. He saw the shock in his metallic gray eyes. He saw the tears glistening at the corners.

Then the floodgates opened. He collapsed against his best friend, soaking her already drenched shirt with even more tears and burying his face into her shoulder. Even in the shelter of the cave, there was no escape from the ever-persistent storm.

Ryker didn't mind. He loved the feeling of the raindrops drumming into his skin. He took one last shuddering breath, and sighed. His tears stopped. The storm slowed to a gentle rain. He felt Milli's fingers threaded in his hair. Her cheek was pressed against his and her arms were wrapped around him in a comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry," he muttered into her shoulder, "I'm sorry for everything."

She pulled away from him a little, not enough to stop touching, but enough to make him miss the warmth of her company. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

In the hour that had probably passed between the punch and just then, her eye had swollen and blackened.

So much like his mother had.

The thought sent shudders through his spine. He brushed his thumb lightly against the bruise. "I'm sorry for this. I'm sorry for what I did to my mother. I'm sorry for how it hurt everyone on our island. And little Ally doesn't even know yet."

He leaned his head against Milli's shoulder. "I should never have gone out. If I hadn't, she might have been severely injured by that tree, but still alive."

Milli said nothing, so Ryker continued. "And then I went up against that monster with only a wooden sword and a two-year old dog at my side. What an idiot." He chuckled bitterly, "And then if that all wasn't enough, I had to go and punch you in the face."

She put her hand over his, where it was pressed against the stone floor in a fist. "Hey. Nothing that happened today was your fault. And you know it."

His fist clenched a little bit tighter. "Except you know it totally was. And even if I was only indirectly responsible for my mother's death, what about you? That's gotta hurt, and it was me that did it. Your best friend. But I guess, former best friend, now."

Milli shook the boy. "Yo, Shark Bait! Has the salt water sloshing around between your ears finally eroded your brain away? You will always be my best friend. So what if you punched me in the face? We all need a knock up there once in awhile."

Ryker bit his lip, turning away from her. She gently wormed out of his grip.

"Dad's probably wondering where I am," she whispered, "When you feel like you could use some company, you know where to find me."

In that moment, Ryker felt a rush of gratitude for his friend. She knew what he was feeling, and she responded accordingly.

He loved how she didn't say Come home when you're ready or When you start to feel better, let me know. She didn't need him to heal just yet. She didn't expect him to heal just yet. And for that, he was eternally grateful.

She stood, taking a single step before turning and looking at him. "I know it's hard right now. And it might never get better."

"I know that it feels like the whole world is against you," Milli leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, "I just need you to know that the whole world never is."

"Because I will always be right by your side."