The entrance to the camp is on a hill within a wood. Visible from the top of the hill are buildings in an eclectic mix of architectural styles—a single large Tudor-style house, adjacent to a few smaller buildings in classical Greek style. It's hard to see far from here, but the trees obscure a larger cluster of buildings deeper inside.

A directional signpost near the entrance has arrows including "STRAWBERRY FIELDS", "ADMINISTRATION", "CABINS", and "STABLES".

"So I guess we want Administration to check me in or whatever?"

"Yeah-huh," says Cate. She grabs Bella's shoulder when she attempts to fall down the hill. Administration here they come.

The Administration building is the Tudor house. By the time they reach it, many more Greek buildings are visible—an arena, a pair of pavilions, an amphitheater—looking as though they were carved yesterday, in brilliant white marble.

A round, scruffy man in a Hawaiian shirt is sitting in a chair on the porch holding a handheld game console. He looks up at them. "Oh, hello—" The console beeps. "Damnit!" He puts it down on the table.

"Hiya," says Cate. "Kiddo, this is our cousin, Dionysus. I'm a Greek god and you're a demigod! Have fun with that!" And she waves and heads out, a little too briskly for Bella to have much hope of catching her.

"Mom??" calls Bella.

"Be nice to this one, I like her!" Cate calls over her shoulder at Dionysus.

He sighs. "You may call me 'Mr. D'. I'm the camp director. Welcome to Camp-Half Blood!" he says with faux enthusiasm. "Well, that's my part done... CHIRON!" he turns toward the house and shouts.

After a moment, someone emerges from the house. At first he appears to be a man, except he is much too tall. His body from the waist down is that of a white horse. "Ah, hello! I see you've already met Mr. D."

"You're a centaur," she accuses.

He smiles. "You are very astute."

"What is going on???"

"Well. The old gods and myths of Greece are real. I am a centaur, and you are a demigod of some unknown parentage—"

Mr. D looks up from his game. "She's one of Hecate's."

"—of some known parentage. That's helpful." He pauses for a moment. "We normally show an orientation film but it assumes some prior knowledge of the supernatural."

"It might at least make it clear what things I should've known?"

"Follow me." He trots into the house. "Thankfully the media room is on the first floor..."

The orientation film is... something. It's around 10 minutes long and it contains some useful information about camp: who Chiron is (a very old Centaur and the activities director), who the camp director is (the god Dionysus, but that's 'Mr. D' to you), warnings not to say the full names of the gods unless you want their attention (you don't), the policy for checking out equipment from the armory, an overview of various activities (gardening, archery, horseback riding, winged horseback riding, canoeing, 'combat encounter simulations', a rock climbing wall partially made of lava), and an overview of the camp rules (no letting people in from outside, no leaving without permission during the summer, no sleeping in other cabins, and some more specific rules).

This would perhaps be communicated better if it wasn't in the format of a musical, sung by a muscled shirtless man with golden hair who introduces himself as 🎸⚡ Apollo ⚡🎸. Every other minute he pauses the music and interjects with a haiku about how awesome he is—they're all terrible. The production itself is of very high quality, utterly wasted on the content.

"So, um, I have a balance disorder."

"Hmm... you will need some way to defend yourself, I'm afraid monsters and daimons will not care much about your lack of balance."

"I've never been attacked by monsters before! So, uh, don't put me in the lava thing, I would fall into lava and die."

"They will come for you, now that you know the truth. The Mist veils demigods only in ignorance." He hesitates. "You might have an aptitude for magic, given your mother; it doesn't usually work well for combat but it won't hurt to try."

"—and the climbing wall is optional. You wouldn't die but it's not exactly pleasant."

"Are demigods invulnerable to lava?"

"...learning magic does sound very awesome though, why isn't it good for combat?"

"Demigods, with some children of Hephaestus excepted, are not invulnerable to lava. You do have supernatural durability, and we have stocks of Ambrosia and Nectar, which can heal any mundane wounds in sufficient quantity."

"It's... complicated. To use magic effectively in combat you need to be either skilled or powerful, ideally both. Many demigods are neither outside skills inherited from their divine parent, which do not usually include magic as a discipline. It's also common for demigods to pick up skill in physical combat much easier than a mundane human would, so trying to use magic would comparatively set them back in life-or-death encounters."

"Is there... magic that would solve my balance disorder."

"There are a number of ways you could attempt that. Magical footwear is classic for movement but other methods could work. It won't be easy but I expect you could have something practical within a year, if you commit to it."

"Am I liable to live that long?"

"I'm not sure. Surviving your first real encounter is the strongest indicator that you'll survive your tenth. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you need, we operate year-round."

"I would probably have spent longer saying goodbye to my dad if I'd known I might have to do that to avoid getting eaten by monsters. Does he know all this?"

"He let us know you were coming, and knew enough to not break your ignorance before you arrived."

"Is there like a phone here?"

"There's a phone in my office you can use."

"Okay. It doesn't have to be right now, just, I should call him, I guess, if I'm going to be at summer camp longer than the summer. Unless I can just ride a horse into battle? I can't ride a bicycle but horses don't fall over as much."

"It's a good skill to have, but unless you want to bring a horse with you everywhere I wouldn't rely on it."

"I guess it would be pretty weird at the grocery store. Are monsters going to attack me in the grocery store? Why don't I hear about people getting attacked in grocery stores?"

"They can attack almost anywhere. You don't hear about it because the Mist obscures knowledge of the supernatural from mortals. A monster attack at a grocery store might become a robbery by a particularly violent gang."

"Why does it work like that? Are the monsters just - checking everybody's brains to see who's worried about them -"

"No. Secrecy is maintained by the Mist, a supernatural force and aspect of magic that hides the mythical from the mortal world. For all practical purposes it works automatically—although your mother maintains it. Monsters typically don't care about mortals and wouldn't bother to hide themselves."

"Why does Mom want all this to be secret?"

"It began millennia ago, and it was not her decision alone. I don't know all of the details. But it has been so long, and the world has moved far like this. I doubt the gods will change their minds anytime soon."

"She sends me postcards. Can I send her postcards back?"

"...she sent them to you by mail?"

"They showed up in the mailbox!"

"Did she include a return address?"

"No, she's always all over the world."

"We have a sacrificial campfire at the dining pavilion. If you burn a postcard and pray she might receive it. Hermes also runs a mail service but it's relatively expensive, they only take pure golden drachmas."

"Where do people get those?"

"Olympus mints them. We receive a supply as part of our budget and issue them as rewards for some camp activities. The gods, daimons, and even some monsters will exchange them for goods and services."

"What do the gods....... do. Like, Mom apparently travels the world, but maybe that is not her day job, and there are other ones -?"

"The gods maintain the world. It was once the case that no rain would fall without the Thunderer's personal seal of approval, no crops would grow the Giver of Grain's smile. While it is not quite like this anymore, there are some domains—Olympus, Atlantis, the Underworld, various daimon enclaves, magic itself—where they still do much of the work. Your mother's domains are of the Mist and magic and crossroads and a number of lesser things, and maintaining these could be described as her 'day job'."

"The Greek gods specifically are doing all this? - are we still in America or did she teleport me to Greece."

"The gods move with the heart of the West, which began in Greece. The world changed, and so did they—from Greece to Rome, with some name reshuffling—then through Europe over the centuries and to Britain during the heyday of the Empire. Now, they are here, in the greatest and richest land in the history of the world."

"Just the West? What's going on in China?"

He hesitates. "The domains of the Olympians do not reach there. I would not concern yourself with it."

"We should get going, I need to give you a proper tour. While this might officially be the Administration building, most everyone just calls it the Big House." He begins to trot away.

"I can't keep up with you at a trot!"

"Right, sorry!" He slows down and leads her out of the Big House. "We'll go to the cabins first. Hecate doesn't have her own cabin, so you'll be staying in cabin eleven."

"Okay." She trudges along with her backpack.

After walking along a path leading deeper into the woods, they enter a circular clearing containing twelve large buildings of very diverse styles. One of them is painted blood red and topped with barbed wire, another belches fire from a metal chimney. Cabin eleven is ordinary, compared to the others, the only decoration a metal caduceus mounted above the front door.

A young man is leading against the wall next to the door. He looks up and waves. "Hey! A new arrival?"

"That's me. I'm Bella."

"I'm Luke, counselor of cabin eleven. Good to meet you." He looks at Chiron. "Regular or undetermined?"

"Her mother is Hecate... regular."

"Undetermined?"

"When someone arrives at camp we often don't know who their divine parent is—they're undetermined. Cabin eleven is for the children of Hermes, and befitting our father we take in all travelers."

"That's - rude - their human parents don't know either? I could have brothers and sisters and she wouldn't necessarily even tell me?"

He laughs. "The gods do not interact much with their children."

"I'm not sure if you have any living mortal siblings, but if you did they would be much older than you. Hecate has few mortal children, at minimum eighteen years apart."

"Is that why her kids don't get a cabin to ourselves?"

"No, only the twelve Olympians have cabins."

"Aren't some of those going to be empty?"

"Yes. Currently cabins one, two, three, and eight are empty. I'm aware the situation is inelegant—"

"Inelegant." He snorts and mutters under his breath.

"—but it's out of my hands."

"My mom is mythologically confused with Artemis some of the time, can I have a single."

He looks thoughtful. "Artemis might allow that... you could sacrifice to her at dinner and see if she responds positively."

"What are we sacrificing these days, is it still snow white calves and stuff?"

"Nothing like that, just part of your meal. I would recommend the part you would otherwise find most delicious, to make a good impression."

"...if you say so."

Chiron checks his watch. "Ah... I'm running late to prepare for my throwing class. Luke, if you could finish off a tour for me—"

"Of course."

"Thank you." He gallops away, toward the arena.

He turns to her. "Do you want to wait until after dinner to unpack, in case your cabin situation changes?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Luke shows her around the rest of camp. There's quite a lot—in addition to all the varied structures there are beings—naiads in the lake, satyrs and dryads in the wood, pegasi in the stables.

After a while, they hear a distant horn.

He looks up and turns around. "—the dinner call. We should head to the pavilion."

When they arrive at the pavilion there are already a great many people there: Chiron and Mr. D and dozens of assorted satyrs and nymphs and perhaps a hundred campers. Like everything else here, the tables are sorted by Olympian parent. Eleven is almost overfull.

By the time she's been through the whole camp she's tripped and fallen four times. She's not great even on level floors and the great outdoors is not equipped with many of those.

She goes through the buffet, takes extra ribs, and watches the sacrifice process so she can do it correctly.

There's a line of campers leading to a large fire in the center of the pavilion. They drop a piece of their food into the fire. Some call out the names of gods or mutter things, others say nothing. Sometimes the fire abruptly changes color or shoots sparks, but it always settles down quickly.

"How do you tell if it's a yes or a no, is there a color code?" she asks Luke.

"It varies a lot, but with Artemis you'll really feel it if she disapproves."

Well, that means if it's a nothingburger she gets a single. Extra ribs go in the fire. "Excuse me, Artemis, may I sleep in your cabin?"

For a moment the fire turns a blue-silver color, like moonlight, and then it's back to normal. Her fingers tingle for a little while after.

"That seemed... good?" she says, looking at Luke for confirmation.

"Oh yeah, that's good. If she was upset you'd feel like a rabbit about to be skinned or something. Feel free to eat at table eight."

"Can I sleep in her cabin and still not eat dinner by myself?"

"You can eat with us at table eleven, but it's crowded. I would not try the others."

She will maybe eat alone if the crowding is too dreadful, but they were all set to oblige her into it fifteen minutes ago. She plops down at eleven.

She's shoulder to shoulder at table eleven but there's room.

"Hi everybody, I'm Bella."