Indomitable

Chapter One

Torrence begins to feel around the arena, taking a moment to adjust to what is around him. There's six dummies, enhanced by the Hephaestus cabin to move and shift during practice sessions. His scarred, pale hands press against their hollow chests as he locates each one.

He can't see for shit, but he's acutely aware that there are several pairs of eyes on him as he begins to train. Everyone wants to see the blind kid train. He's quite conflicted when trying to decide how he feels about this. He was torn about whether or not he liked and wanted the attention he was receiving.

His nostrils flare briefly as his calloused left hand goes to his side. He unclips the coiled whip from his waist and lets it unfurl, the end of the leather rope hitting the dirt ground with a quiet thud. He snaps his arm out and it's in the flick of his wrist that makes the weapon crack in the air.

He picks up on the whirring mechanics of the training dummies as they come to life, mobile on installed tracks that allow them to advance, retreat, and dodge in accordance to his recorded movements. He has to be unpredictable.

Torrence moves toward the dummy directly across from him, with slow and measured steps. His movements were a bit mesmerizing, if only for how calculated they were. He readjusts his grip on the hilt of his whip and lets it drag in the dirt behind him. He's got ten paces left until he'd be face to face with the dummy.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven, now six, now five —

Crack.

His serpentine weapon strikes through the air, but it is not angled to hit the dummy he'd been advancing toward. He maneuvers quickly on his heels and strikes for the dummy to his right. His left arm crosses his body as he attacks and he can feel the movement of the whip travel up his arm like a dull electric current. The end of the leather finds purchase and quickly wraps itself around the neck of the dummy with the momentum Torrence had provided. He swiftly tugs and chokes the target, pulling so hard and having such a tight noose around its neck that he pulls the dummy off of its track and makes it fall to the ground.

The next dummy to his right moves backward, shifting into a defensive mode. Torrence stalks toward it and his walk is narrated by confidence. His steps are light and predatory as he senses a lack of movement in front of him, signaling that the dummy has come to the end of its track and is unable to back up any farther. Torrence quickly draws the hilt of his whip through a belt loop on the waist of his jeans and pulls a dagger from the strap on his thigh. He places a hand on the side of the dummy's neck to keep it from dodging to the right and then his fingers wrap around its throat, holding it in place.

He plunges the dagger hilt deep into the chest of the dummy, pauses to take a long and deep breath, and then removes his hand from its theist and yanks out the blade.

With a similar and devastating efficiency, he takes down the four remaining dummies. By the time he's finished, there's a thin layer of sweat over his body that makes his shirt cling to his torso, and plasters his silver hair to his neck and forehead.

He knows the path back to his cabin and effortlessly makes his way there. He's memorized every bump and dip in the path, easily stepping over exposed roots and sidestepping sizable rocks and puddles.

Puddles. Strange to have puddles in Camp, considering it shouldn't ever have rained there. But things at Camp Half Blood were strange, ever since Peleus had been killed and the Golden Fleece taken.

Thalia's tree was where Peleus had been killed, and where his body remained. No one had seen who killed the dragon or taken the Golden Fleece. Torrence couldn't make sense of how it had happened. No enemy of Camp could have gotten inside and slain Peleus. And that left Torrence to wonder, who was the traitor inside of camp? Who was it? And how was it possible, if no one was missing?