SECTION ONE: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤.
CHAPTER TWO—0002.

█║▌║█║▌║▌║█║▌║█║▌║▌║ █║▌║█║▌║▌█║▌║█║▌║▌

IN HIS DREAM, HERA APPEARED TO AGE DESPITE HER IMMORTALITY. Wrinkles marred her once flawless face, the lustrous hue of her locks faded into an ashen gray that whispered of how fragile the goddess had become since the last time he had laid eyes on her. Displeasure emanated from her ox-like eyes as they fixed upon Micah.

Leaning against the bars of her prison, Hera spoke, her words carrying a weight of consequence. "An eye," she declared, her tone warning. "For each act of disobedience, child, I will remove another piece of him."

The son of Hypnos let the last traces of his amusement fade, settling on the tiled floor beside his patron's cell. "I do not regret it," he assured her, thinking of the charred remnants of her temple at Camp Half-Blood. "You think I am the same boy who used to beg for your favor—"

Hera sighed heavily, her palm raised to her forehead in exasperation. "You are blinded by your own delusions," she replied, her voice darkened with contempt. "You speak and speak, but never listen to the wisdom of those who came before you. You will learn, one way or another, the consequences of your misdeeds. Throw all the tantrums you want. I will not give up on you, my boy."

"I have nothing to learn from you, my lady," Micah told her. They stared at each other through the earthen cage. In the hardened distress encased in her brown eyes, he recalled being twelve years old, aching for a parent to lift him from the ground when his legs grew too tired to carry him any longer. He had only ever receive Hera's cold directive, commanding him to rise once more and prove himself worthy to stand in the palace of the gods.

He isn't a child anymore.
He sees Hera for the failure she truly is.

Ares taught him how to fight and conquer; Aphrodite, how to seduce and manipulate. Through Athena, he learned strategy and the discipline of warfare. Hermes showed him how to be cunning and quick-witted. But it was Hera who opened his eyes to the futility of  the gods. Nothing she could teach him held value. His patron is incompetent—the goddess of family with a broken one, the goddess of marriage ensnared in a loveless union. The virgin goddess of childbirth, unable to cradle her children and love them as she longed.

Micah is older; he is above keeping worthless company.

Still, Hera smiled through the pain that furrowed her brow, as if she saw something within him that he had yet to realize himself. Once they rebuilt her temple, Micah swore to himself, he will raze it to the ground again.

"Share your thoughts with me," Hera said, her voice pleasant but imposing. The son of Hypnos allowed himself the fantasy of saying no—of spitting in the goddess's face and awakening to a world ablaze, condemned to annihilation as the prophet Jeremiah had predicted—but Sally Jackson is pregnant, and Percy has always wanted to be a brother. Nico just started 8th grade. The world could not end as long as those he loved continued to dream.

He held his tongue and began to speak carefully, slipping back into the role of a diligent lapdog to his queen like a dust-heavy coat settling over his shoulders. "Of course, my lady," he replied.

His voice betrayed none of the discontent within him.

"The son of Jupiter, the leader of Rome, for the son of Poseidon, the hero of Olympus," Micah replied. "You are attempting to connect Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter through their leaders. Your family, as well: offering the honor of saving you to a daughter of Aphrodite and a son of Hephaestus, children of the two halves of the broken union, you, the goddess of marriage, failed to mend. More than that, a son of Hephaestus arrives at camp at a time when they mourn the loss of his brother."

Reluctant to acknowledge it, he struggled to make out Piper's place within his patron's plan. To his eyes, she lacked significance, merely another occupant of Cabin Ten. Her lineage as a child of Aphrodite with Charmspeak failed to impress him, especially with two other daughters possessing the same abilities. Her claiming held little weight compared to that of a son of Hephaestus—she seemed wary of Jason, disproving any potential bond between them. Any potential contributions she could make seemed eclipsed by the presence of older campers.

Still, Hera appeared pleased.

"The enemy counts on our divisions, and if we are divided, we will be destroyed. But you changed fate," she disclosed, her voice carrying a touch of approval. "That girl you hold dear. The daughter of Aphrodite, Silena Beauregard. She was meant to die and leave a fracture within Camp Half-Blood, a tear that would haunt the camp for years to come. But you intervened, and now she lives, all because you cared for her."

Micah smiled; his voice was poised and sharp as he told the goddess, "Keep Silena's name out of your mouth, my lady. Whatever lesson you're trying to impart through her—I will not allow it."

"It isn't for you, child. It is a warning for her. She must justify her continued existence to the Fates." Hera said it bemusedly, her eyes glinting. "Ignore me if you dare. Salvation comes through caring for others. Perhaps you will learn that in time, Micah."

The son of Hypnos rolled his eyes, standing up from the ground and brushing off his pants. "It sounds like I don't have a choice," he muttered under his breath before addressing her. "The earth is waking up. I would rather not be here when it does. I need a prophecy now, my lady."

In her cage, Hera looked pitiful again, her regal demeanor slipping with each second as her powers waned. "Very well," she relented. "Pay heed, my boy. The Fates have favored you before, but success does not come without sacrifice. Out of the dule, you know the choice. Do not allow your fear to cloud your judgment and undermine her potential. In this war, only the strong will emerge unscathed."

With hissing in his ears, Micah woke up in his childhood bedroom at Camp Half-Blood.

For a moment, it felt as if he had never left at all.
The window curtains were still taped shut from the last time he was there, all those years ago. Child-sized coats hung on the back of the door, and tiny shoes were neatly lined up on the floor. The first drawer remained crammed with the marked books gifted to him by Chiron; on the bottom, all the letters from Hiroki's parents. He didn't get up to check, but he knew the shrine he had made in honor of Nyx remained in the closet, a silent ode to the darkness that had always trailed him. His camp necklace would still be there, unmoved since the day he left.

He lay in bed for a moment, listening to the gentle whir of the fan above him. Chiron must have turned it on while he slept.

When he got up, he pretended he was fine—that the weight of the world was not pressing down on his shoulders—and that he did not feel like he was rotting from the inside, slowly decaying with each passing day without his grandmother to orient him or Percy to love him through his lack of purpose.

In the living room, he found Chiron idling, his gaze fixed on the photos that filled the walls. His  expression carried a somber weight as he observed the array of images, spanning from old sepia-toned photographs of the early days of Camp Half-Blood to vibrant snapshots capturing recent victories and celebrations. In his hand, the centaur clutched a weathered picture of a white-haired god and his winged child in the snow-covered strawberry fields.

He hadn't realized how small he—
How small Hiroki had been, all those years ago.

He ached; Micah refused to acknowledge any of it.

Crossing his arms, he recited.

"Child of Lightning, beware the earth,
The giants' revenge, the seven shall birth,
The forge and dove shall break the cage,
And death unleashed through Hera's rage."

Chiron nodded wearily. "Jason, Leo, and Piper," he murmured, his gaze distant as he thought.

"No," Micah corrected bitterly, sensing the weight of betrayal toward his friend. He clenched his jaw, endeavoring to push away the guilt that threatened to overtake him. "Not Piper. Silena is the one—Hera chose her."

The centaur stilled, his expression turning tragic, as if she had already met her end in battle. "She isn't ready. She is still mourning Charles Beckendorf," he spoke with a heavy tone. Micah grasped the underlying meaning: the quest would provide Silena with an excuse to throw away her life in the name of heroism, even if it amounted to nothing short of suicide. It wouldn't be the first time they've lose half-bloods like that. Micah spent such a long time in camp to know the truth. He had seen it so often, until quests were rarely ever assigned.

He pressed the back of his palm against his eye, applying pressure until the colors behind his eyelids exploded into a kaleidoscope of pain. "She'll be fine," he swore, another vow to swallow. Restlessness gnawed at him, an insistent feeling that refused to dissipate.

Regardless of the hour, he didn't care; they had to leave immediately.

Chiron followed his hastened pace with a concerned look. By the door, a backpack lay waiting, packed with supplies for their journey. "I prepared enough for a month—eat two a day. It should be enough to dull any aches," the centaur informed him. As an offer of peace, he offered him a caramel-colored lollipop.

Micah hesitated for a moment before accepting it. "Thank you," he said quietly. Words tangled in his throat as he unwrapped the sweet treat, the taste of ambrosia providing more comfort than any home-cooked meal or soothing melody ever could.

Not wanting another regret weighing on him, he mustered the courage to confess. "Ethan Nakamura drafted a proposal," he revealed to Chiron. "It's for Camp Half-Blood. It is full of suggestions—cost estimates for more land, new training regimens, a blueprint for a year-round educational program. It's not flawless; he was just twelve when he began it, but I think it's worth considering. If I return..."

Chiron smiled warmly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Upon your return," he corrected, "we will review Ethan's proposal, together, and discuss how we can integrate his ideas. We'll make sure his hard work and dedication are recognized and appreciated."

Micah nodded mutely. He did not say goodbye to Chiron; instead, he picked up the backpack and walked out of the Big House. Above him, the stars shone brightly in the clear night sky, guiding his steps as he made his way to Cabin Ten.

He didn't wait for long before Silena appeared at the door, a concerned look on her sleep-ridden face. "Micah?" she asked softly, her voice groggy. The nighttime mask underneath her eyes smelled of lavender and chamomile, and the son of Hypnos managed to smile through the guilt of condemning her as one of her hair rollers fell out, revealing her tousled hair. She reached out to touch his arm. "I had a dream," she explained. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"I'm sorry,"  he apologized. "Hera chose you for the quest."

Silena's eyes widened in surprise. "Me?" she questioned, shock evident in her voice. She seemed horrified, expression tight, her mouth slightly agape.

Micah gripped her hand, trying to reassure her. "You don't have to agree," he said, squeezing her fingers gently.

Her gaze dropped to the ground, remaining silent.

Micah crunched the lollipop between his molars, swallowing the ambrosia. "It could be Piper," he insisted. "It doesn't have to be you if you don't want it to be."

But Silena shook her head, determination in her eyes. "No, I'll do it," she finally said, a sense of resolve in her voice. "I can do this. Charlie believed in me—so I won't let him down."

She hurried back inside her cabin, needing to prepare. Micah watched her go, any sense of pride drowned out by concern.

When has his concern ever resulted in anything positive?

Growing irritated by the thought, he headed to Cabin One. Jason Grace was already standing outside, goosebumps crawling up his arms as he breathed in the cold night air. Cold sweat gathered on his forehead, and when he spotted Micah, he quickly straightened up, a terrified expression on his face. "I had a nightmare." He said it with a tremble in his voice.  "It felt so real, like a warning—"

Micah shrugged, flicking the stick of the lollipop somewhere inside the cabin. "Dreams are just dreams, Jason. Don't let them get to you." With a friendly pat on the back, he passed over the backpack Chiron had prepared. "Get the son of Hephaestus. We're leaving."

Jason nodded, straightening his posture and taking a deep breath to shake off the lingering fear. As he slung the backpack over his shoulder, doubt slowed his movement. "What about Piper?"

"Her dreams are too loud," Micah complained, waving around his ear like he could still hear them. "Our patron did not ask for her to come. She'll be fine on her own." Jason hesitated for a moment before relenting, heading to find the son of Hephaestus as instructed—but he didn't make it far before a giant bronze creature descended from the sky, blocking his path as the serpent-like Automaton landed with such force that the earth beneath them trembled.

Steel talons gripped the ground as the Automaton's luminous ruby eyes fixed on Jason. A mechanical hiss erupted as its bat-shaped wings, double the length of its body, unfurled like metallic sails, produced a symphony of sounds akin to a thousand gears grinding in unison. The dragon lifted its head high and unleashed a towering column of fire into the sky, turning the  world around them into a blazing inferno of heat and light. Atop it, the son of Hephaestus grinned with maniacal glee, shouting, "People of Earth, I come in peace!"

Micah cursed under his breath.

Beside him, Jason gazed up at the dragon and shook his head in amazement.

"Leo," he called. "What have you done?"

"Found a ride!" Leo beamed. "You said I could go on the quest if I got you a ride. Well, I got you a rank-A metallic flying bad boy! Festus can take us anywhere!"

"No," Micah denied immediately, gritting his teeth in frustration, despising every moment of the mechanical cacophony emitted from the Automaton. "We are not riding that thing. My hellhounds will—"

The son of Hephaestus placed a hand on his hip. He looked like he rolled in soot in his free time. His hands were grease-stained, and his eyes were bloodshot. His curly hair was so oily it stuck up in porcupine quills, and he smelled strangely of Tabasco sauce. Micah hated everything about him as he said, "Nu-uh! Festus is a part of the squad; the old lady told me so! Giddy up, Pretty Boy! We are saving the world on Happy the Dragon, wherever you like it or not!"

Silena appeared with three bags worth of supplies, her lashes curled to perfection, and a matching scarf tied around her neck, coordinated with her two-piece Lululemon Athletica outfit. She held back the son of Hypnos from attacking Leo with a nervous laugh.

"But a dragon is pretty cool, don't you think, Micah?" She inquired, and he paused as if she had cast a spell on him. He began rambling about automatons and physiology—entirely distinct forms of life, he corrected her, inorganic and altogether incomparable to a real dragon. Silena hummed thoughtfully, a smile playing on her lips as she guided him forward. Unconsciously, he followed her as they mounted Festus, not pausing his lecture

With a look back, the daughter of Aphrodite winked at Leo.

A strangled shriek escaped his throat, but he quickly composed himself, smiling dopily like a love-struck fool. The son of Jupiter laughed, picking up Silena's luxury handbag. "You ready, partner?" Jason asked, throwing it over his shoulder and gesturing towards the waiting dragon.

"Oh," Leo said excitedly.  "You bet!"

█║▌║█║▌║▌║█║▌║█║▌║▌║ █║▌║█║▌║▌█║▌║█║▌║▌

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

Oh Leo, the way I love you. Guys we are actually going to see Micah as a normal teenager?! I feel like a mother ON GOD I'm so excited! I'll keep the short but often updates coming, so I'll probably upload the next chapter by Sunday! We are FLYIN'

Please feel comfortable sharing any scene suggestions or interaction! Thank you for all the comments and support I've cried with some of the DMs I've gotten recently

Alright, until then, bye-bye!