𝟎𝟎𝟒━━よん.
SECTION ONE: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤.
CHAPTER FOUR—0004.
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LEO PRIDED HIMSELF ON BEING A TOP-NOTCH JUDGE OF CHARACTER. Seriously, he had every reason to believe it—his best bud was Jason Grace, the epitome of coolness, and he totally called it on Tía Callida being downright diabolical. He'd encountered enough mean, pretty girls who treated him like a pet more than a human to know when someone was being real or just putting on a show. So yeah, he was confident he could see through people's facades, through all the smoke and mirrors, and know if they were cool or not.
But Micah? Micah was throwing him for a loop.
There was something just not quite... right with him.
He was a total jerk, of course, sticking his nose in everyone's business, flaunting his know-it-all attitude, and tossing threats around like they were free samples. Bad vibes practically sizzled off him, hotter than a forge; it only took Leo two minutes at Camp Half-Blood to learn that everyone clearly felt the same way.
Leo figured that would be enough to write him off as just another power-tripping pretty boy.
But, now that they are on a quest together, he began to notice that Micah would sometimes get this look in his eyes. A flicker of something that completely overturned Leo's understanding of him.
How could a guy so cruel and arrogant possibly have a heart, let alone a broken one?
It would've been way easier if he was just another narcissist with no depth. But no, Micah had this whole messed-up patchwork on his arms—scratches, bruises, scars overlapping with burn marks. Sometimes he'd shake so violently, his tough exterior cracking like old paint on a beat-up car, that Leo couldn't help but forget his fear of him.
In those moments, he couldn't picture a bully at all.
Just a scared little kid needing someone to hold onto.
But whoever he was searching for never seemed to appear, which revealed another side of the son of Hypnos that left Leo absolutely spooked. Because he could handle the ridiculing, the mean remarks, the strange and off-putting threats, and even the tears, if it came down to it, but Leo had no idea what to do when Micah decided he was above everything and simply smiled.
There's this saying one of the behavioral counselors at the Wilderness School loved to tell him, something like, "A smile is the light in your window that tells others there's a caring, sharing person inside."
If Micah were a house, his smile would be a charred, crumbling ruin with shattered windows and decaying beams, riddled with mold and barely holding together. It was never genuine—twisted and snarled, as though he concealed splintered bones beneath his tongue. He could resemble a pretty angel as much as he liked with his soft-turned features and calming voice, but in the end, his smile would always betray him, bearing too many sharpened teeth to be considered anything but the final snare of a predator closing in on its already captured prey.
It had only happened twice so far: once when Micah released the storm spirits, and now again.
Like the first time Leo saw it, he felt nauseated, as if mold spores were creeping through his skin and infiltrating his lungs, leaving him unsettled with a deep sense of discomfort with each choked breath. It was—off, and ugly, and Leo didn't understand how Jason and Silena could see it and still go along with any of Micah's plans.
"Seriously, are we absolutely sure about this?" He whispered for the third time after they snuck into Aeolia's fortress-like palace, trying harder than ever in his life to keep it low-key.
But the son of Hypnos paid no mind to Leo's paranoia, striding ahead with heavy steps. "Why shouldn't we?" He asked, and the way his voice carried down the corridors made Leo flinch. Without hesitation, Micah opened passageways and slammed shut doors that led to dead ends, mindlessly leading them deeper into the labyrinthine palace.
"I dunno," Leo snapped, his tone edged with frustration. "But you said there's some security thingy, right? Couldn't we just go through that? It's gotta be better than getting blasted on sight!"
Micah opened another door, peered inside the room, and declared, "I don't like waiting," before slamming it shut so forcefully that the hinges creaked in protest.
"Dude!" Leo hissed through clenched teeth. "Jason, zap him or something! We're going to get caught!" Sweat beaded on his forehead as he anxiously scanned their surroundings, hyper-aware of every creak underfoot and distant murmur echoing through the halls. "
And then he saw it.
There, nestled between two imposing doors, a decorative table adorned with an ornate vase stood out against the empty corridor.
Leo's heart skipped a beat.
The son of Hypnos made no effort to be discreet—he deliberately met Leo's wide-eyed gaze before nonchalantly knocking over the vase, the sound of shattering porcelain echoing through the corridor.
"Whoops," he remarked. "I guess they know we're here now."
Leo stood there, barely holding it together, fueled by adrenaline ready to bail through a window the moment those wicked espresso concoctions showed up.
Jason's grip on his shoulders helped, too, though that's beside the point.
Silena gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. "Micah!" she scolded, as if he were a misbehaving kitten rather than an escaped asylum patient. The son of Hypnos smiled—that awful, disgusting smile that made Leo's skin crawl—and said, "Silena, sur les ailes des oiseaux et sur le moulin des ombres, j'écris ton nom."
Right away, the daughter of Aphrodite's smiled indulgently, any previous reprimands forgotten. "Hush," she said sweetly, and any sort of ally Leo could've had was lost in that moment.
"Seriously?" He complained. "There's no way, woman!"
Jason, who had remained silent up until now, pulled him aside. "Ease up," he said firmly, placing a hand on Leo's shoulder. "No one is coming for us. This is a god's palace, Leo. He already knows we're here. I get that you don't like Micah, but he's the only one who knows what's going on. Just go along with it before he decides to do something drastic just to provoke you."
"Do he actually know what he's doing, though?" Leo asked skeptically, glancing back at Micah with a scowl. "Feels like we're just spinning our wheels here, following him to who-knows-where. Anyone else think maybe he's as lost as we are?"
"Leo," Jason said cautiously, eyeing him as though he were a ticking time bomb.
"Micah isn't lost," he clarified. "He is playing hide and seek."
"Yeah, sure thing," Leo muttered under his breath.
Except—except it made a strange sort of sense, twisted though it was. Leo had seen the various pieces of equipment floating aimlessly through the air; cameras, spotlights, even film reels. Whoever owned so such technology definitely had surveillance recordings of the entire area. And Aeolus, well, he's a god—and Micah sauntered in as if he were a deity in his own right, climbing through the window and nonchalantly opening doors to rooms he shouldn't have known about, all without a care in the world. No alarm went off; no guard appeared; not even the wind picked up, as if the air itself was allowing Micah to move freely.
It was quiet and still; a game of cat and mouse where the mouse had all the advantages
"Right, okay," Leo drawled out, tapping his fingers against his knee. "But if he's the seeker, then who's hiding from him?
At that, Jason grimaced. "I don't know," he admitted.
And like an ill-timed joke from the Fates, a sudden crash boomed down the hallway, just around the corner where Silena and Micah had vanished. It was swiftly followed by a piercing, ear-splitting squeal. Without hesitation, Jason bolted forward, Leo close behind.
As they turned the corner, they were greeted by the sight of a diminutive, elfin woman dangling in Micah's grip, her billowing white gown fluttering around her like parachute material. "Please—please—please forgive us!" She began to cry, dark hair blowing in slow-motion as Micah held her aloft. "We had no—no—no—no clue you would be the one to come, Ambassador! Lord Zeus didn't clarify!"
"You're new," Micah remarked with amusement. "Quite good, too. Usually, it doesn't take me this long to track down you nymphs."
Silena tugged on his shirt. "Put her down, Micah," she said firmly.
"You won't run again?" The son of Hypnos rattled the nymph a little, causing her to whimper in fear.
"No, no, I won't run," she pleaded. Micah finally released her, allowing the nymph to collapse on the ground in relief. Silena knelt beside her, offering a comforting hand as she insisted, "We didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry."
The nymph straightened immediately, her eyes widening. "No, no!" she said nervously. "The Ambassador did not scare me! I simply got caught slacking! I promise to be more diligent in the future!"
Silena cast a meaningful glance at Micah, her expression unusually serious. The son of Hypnos quickly defended himself, saying, "Nature spirits dislike the scent of the Underworld. They all hide whenever I visit Aeolia."
"Not just the Underworld!" The nymph squealed. "Tartarus!"
Micah's expression remained dulled, his features unmoved, but his voice took on an unexpected edge as he spoke, betraying his discomfort at the mention of the abyss. "And where might that be, exactly?" he asked with a hint of mockery, then added, "Perhaps we could make a slight detour to show you firsthand. We have plenty of time before the winter solstice, and I assure you, my family enjoys unexpected guests."
The nymph swayed, pure terror etched across her face. "The House—the House—the House of—" Her words stumbled, choked by fear, before she let out a final squeal and collapsed unconscious, unable to complete her sentence.
Micah turned away without a care.
"No!" Jason pursued him, his voice tinged with indignation. "You can't do things like that!"
The son of Hypnos waved him away. "She's fine," he dismissed. "The mention of my family has that effect on some creatures, Grace. It's not my problem if she can't handle it."
"That's your family," Silena interjected, her voice firm. "Not you, Micah. You've always been—"
Micah turned to face them. "I've always been what?" he interrupted. "Kind-hearted? Respectful? Obedient like a mutt? Don't put me in a chocolate box, Silena. It's exhausting enough without your expectations weighing me down."
Silena remained silent, her eyes downcast as she processed Micah's words. Finally, she looked up and said, "You can still be kinder to others, Micah."
"Oh, fuck off." Micah scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You and Jason are going to bore me to death with your bleeding heart approach. You said we're in this together, did you not? Well, I got us the prophecy, I led us to the drifting islands, and I will secure Aeolus' blessings. I do not mind doing it all, if the least you could do is allow me the freedom to do it my way. Do you want me to be a saint, or do you want to survive?" He paused, waiting for a response from his companions; no one spoke. He smiled. "We've been ordered to save Hera by the winter solstice, and I plan to do it well before the deadline, no matter what it takes. If my methods make you uncomfortable, then suggest another plan; and if you can't, then—well, spare me your idealism and fantastical heroism."
His words hung in the air, a truth they couldn't argue with. How could they, when the most experienced among them suffered from amnesia, and the oldest had never been on a quest before? They could interpret the prophecy a thousand different ways, head in a hundred different directions, face dozens of monsters, and still risk dooming the world despite their most desperate attempts, just by virtue of being wrong.
They could not afford to be wrong. Micah would not allow it, even at the expense of their friendship.
Leo mumbled under his breath, "I told you he was a loose cannon."
Micah did not acknowledge him.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden watch
"Let's go," the son of Hypnos declared. "Aeolus should be free by now."
Micah guided them to a circular pit that descended into the heart of the mountain below.
The son of Hypnos stared at the floorless chasm with a peculiar gaze. "This would've been an issue last year," he lamented before clearing his throat and holding his mouth open. Golden sand coalesced into a bridge that led to the center of the chamber. There, a loose sphere of flat-panel video screens floated around a control center.
Inside, a man hovered, checking monitors and reading paper airplane messages, talking into an earpiece phone. He held a remote control in each hand, pointing them at various screens seemingly at random. His business suit resembled the sky—mostly blue, dappled with changing clouds that darkened and moved across the fabric. Despite appearing to be in his sixties with a shock of white hair, his heavily made-up face gave him a strangely artificial look, not quite young, not quite old—just unsettling, like a partially melted doll. His eyes darted back and forth from screen to screen, as if trying to absorb everything at once. He muttered into his phone, his mouth twitching intermittently, suggesting a mix of amusement and possibly something more erratic.
Micah greeted him like an old friend. "Lord Aeolus!'
Aeolus shrieked with delight. "Micah!" He cheered, then pointed at one of the screens. "Ambassador, you must watch this!" It was a storm-chaser show, featuring daredevils chasing tornadoes for thrills. In broadcast, a Jeep careened directly into a funnel cloud and was flung skyward. "The Disaster Channel. People do that on purpose!" The immortal turned toward him with a mad grin. "Isn't that amazing? Let's watch it again."
Micah indulged him patiently, watching each video the immortal queued with the patience of a seasoned diplomat. However, when a video of roaring ocean tides began to play, the son of Hypnos lifted a hand. "I'm sorry, my Lord," he excused himself, "but unfortunately, I am here on official business."
Aeolus nodded, his excitement momentarily dimmed. "Of course, of course," the master of the winds replied; he seemed to notice the others in the room for the first time, then, riling up yet again when his eyes landed on Jason. Aeolus said. "You're back. How did it go?"
Jason hesitated. "Sorry? I think you've mistaken me—"
"No, no, Jason Grace, aren't you? It was—what—last year? You were on your way to fight a sea monster, I believe."
"I—I don't remember." The son of Jupiter stammered, feeling a sense of unease creeping up his spine.
Aeolus laughed. "Must not have been a very good sea monster! No, I remember every hero who's ever come to me for aid. Odysseus—gods, he docked at my island for a month! At least you only stayed a few days. Now, watch this video. These ducks get sucked straight into—"
Micah interrupted respectfully. "My lord, I'm here on behalf of Olympus to renegotiate the terms of your contract with us."
At that, Aeolus looked stunned. "Renegotiate? Oh, thank goodness!" He jumped straight of his chair, excitedly pacing back and forth. "It's been what, three thousand years since Zeus made me master of the winds. Not that I'm ungrateful, of course! But really, my contract is so vague. Obviously, I'm immortal, but 'master of the winds.' What does that mean? Am I a nature spirit? A demigod? A god? I want to be god of the winds, because the benefits are so much better. Can we start with that?"
The son of Hypnos snapped his fingers; a leather-bound notebook and a pen appeared in his hands. "I'll take a look at the terms of your current contract." He wrote down some notes as he spoke. "This, however, will have to be a gradual process, my Lord. I'm in the middle of a quest, and I must prioritize that before we can delve into renegotiating your contract.'" Micah glanced up from his notebook, a thoughtful expression on his face. "But I'm sure we can work something out once this quest is completed."
Aeolus grinned broadly. "Ah, always busy, Ambassador! Thank you again for handling the storm spirits after Typhon's demise—Oh, forget my grumpiness; I might have wanted to eradicate all you demigods—but then where would I be without friends like you!" He chuckled, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Have you considered renegotiating your contract, Ambassador? I hear the payment rates for godhood have skyrocketed despite recent layoffs. Or could it be because of them?"
Micah chuckled softly. "My Lord, you know why."
Aeolus threw his head back and laughed heartily. "Of course, of course! I know almost everything, and you, my friend, know nearly as much! That's why we make such a great team, isn't it?" His expression softened for a moment. "Oh, I'm certain your father can't wait for the first opportunity to elevate you from little prince to little godling! But seriously, consider it, at least for the old snoozer's sake. The winds of change are blowing, my friend."
Micah reply did not come, any string of words he had prepared dying on his lips.
"Ah," he murmured, lips slightly parted, contemplating which mask to wear. In the end, none seemed quite right. He asked simply, "My father. Have you heard anything about his whereabouts, my Lord?"
"No," Aeolus seemed truly regretful. "Even I can't see that, and believe me, I've tried. There's a veil of magic over his location—very strong, impossible to penetrate."
Jason stepped forward once Micah's silence had stretched on for too long. "What about Hera, my... Lord?"
The master of the winds straightened his lapel. "Say it with more certainty next time." He snapped, then continued, "Hera is a different matter. She is closer to you than you think, but she is with—Give me a moment, allow me to confirm—Eugh! Yes, Hera is with Enceladus in his cave. He's horrible! He doesn't even watch my program!"
"Wait, a giant?" Silena exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Now we have to deal with giants too?"
"Yes, yes," Aeolus confirmed. "He's hiding out in the caves near Mount Diablo, plotting who knows what. Now, my friend, how long do you estimate it will take for you to return so we can resume the promotion? You already have my blessing, of course, but I can provide transportation as necessary—"
Suddenly his face went slack. He bent over and tapped his earpiece as if it were malfunctioning.
"My Lord?" Micah questioned, reaching forward to touch Aeolus's arm. "Is everything alright?"
But the immortal did not reply.
When he straightened again, his eyes were wild. Despite the makeup, he looked like an old man—a frightened old man. "She hasn't spoken to me for centuries. I can't—yes, yes, I understand."
The son of Hypnos took a cautious step back, his golden eyes narrowing.
"My Lord," Micah warned. Jason moved to stand at his side, the two of them forming a protective barrier in front of Leo and Silena as storm clouds gathered overhead. Aeolus's voice trembled as he finally spoke, "I'm sorry, my friend, but new orders."
He swallowed hard, tears brimming in his eyes as he turned to Micah. "You all have to die now."
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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !
Please let me know if we're vibing with the different POV's or if I should stick to just Micah-Percy chat! (=^・ω・^=) thank you so much for ready !!
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