[The original five chapters of Deep End  from Sept. 2022] 

[apologies in advance for the Gil slaughter /teasing]

PROLOGUE

ESTELLE JACKSON HAD A HEAD FULL OF FANTASIES, that seemingly never ended. Even as a baby, toddling around in a diaper and drooling, she'd waved a sword around and pretended to be a demigod, chasing Percy the Minotaur around with her foam stick. Then Rachel Dare had stayed for a weekend, and Estelle had wanted to be a priestess, bouncing on Rachel's lap and waving her hands, eyes rolled back in her head and babbling baby rhymes about the fate of her teddy bears. 

Soon enough, a cascade of occupations followed. A historian (she flipped through archives with chubby toddler hands on the lap of Professor Chase), a librarian (Ella was staying for a week), a Roman centurion (she accidentally broke a vase while chasing Frank the leopard), an architect (which only lasted until Annabeth showed her how much math was involved), Queen of the Universe (Reyna and Thalia had turned Estelle into a practical dictator), a lightning-fast horse (until she spent a week mucking out the camp stables), and even a centaur when she first met Chiron. 

What do you want to be when you grow up? It was always a question asked of Estelle, especially when she grew up surrounded by people more than twice her age. Her answer was always changing between phases, shifting like the tide. But there was always one thing Estelle fell back on, one answer she never hesitated to beam: 

"A hero, like Percy!" 

And Sally Jackson was worried. 

"Paul, she's going to realize she's only mortal," she murmured, brow creased, watching her five year old daughter chase senior ambassador Jason Grace around her apartment, pretending to blast him with electric shocks. Jason collapsed on the ground, clutching his chest and convulsing. 

"Only mortal? Sally, our daughter is a miracle!" Paul said, taking her by the elbows gently. "She's like you, for one thing. And she's Clear Sighted. Plus, look at her, she's got twice the spunk I ever did at that age." 

Sally surveyed with mild concern the child beating Jason over the head with a foam pilum. Paul clasped his hands in complete glee. 

"I suppose you're right..." Sally frowned. "I'm just worried her soul will be crushed when she figures it out. You know she hates not getting what she wants." 

"We might have to work on that. Oh, ouch," Paul agreed, wincing as Estelle stabbed Jason in the eye with the butt of her spear.

"Estelle, no stabbing!" Sally called. 

"It's all right Mrs. Jackson," Jason sat up and waved her off good-naturedly, puffy eye swollen shut. "I've survived worse." 

"Die!" Little Estelle roared, tackling him. 

"We definitely have to work on that," Paul murmured. He patted Sally's hand, lightening his tone. "I'm sure she'll be fine, darling." 

"I certainly hope so." 

And for the most part, Estelle was indeed "fine". She grew up healthy and strong, with a good sense of sass and spunk, as Paul put it. She never quite shook her admiration for heroes like her big brother and his friends, but as she went to school, she realized it wasn't mature or cool to work towards monster fighting as a career. It wasn't mature or cool to work for anything, in some backward sense of logic. Instead, she picked the next best thing; being an author. If Estelle couldn't profess her love for fighting monsters in real life, she could at least do it in writing. 

Her teachers complimented her creativity, wondering in amazement at her books filled with Greek myths and children of the gods and massive titans and even an Earth goddess. Little did they know, Estelle was basically plagiarizing history, but she got a good grade so she couldn't care more. 

One day, apartment hot and humid with New York summer air, Estelle limped over to Percy's room. Normally Percy would stay at his apartment a few blocks away with Annabeth and their kids, but Estelle's niece and nephews were on a month-long trip to Costa Rica, and Percy had missed his family. 

Selfishly, Estelle was glad Annabeth and the kids were gone. She loved her sister-in-law and her children more than she loved Sally's blue cookies, but she missed having just her brother around. 

"Perce, can you help me?" she flopped onto his bed, pencil in one hand, notebook in the other. 

He flipped off his headset, turning his chair to face her. "Sure, what's up?" 

"I have to write another book for English class. I forgot the details. What exactly happened at the Gaea battle? Like, do you have more information?" Estelle frowned, flipping through pages of notes. "I've interviewed almost everyone, and they can't seem to agree on how long it was." 

"By interview, do you mean pester?" Percy said dryly, smearing sweat from his forehead. 

Estelle shot him a narrow look, sweat dripping down her temples. Heat made her snippy, and Percy's high-and-mighty attitude was already itching her temper. "By interview I mean interview. Unlike you, people actually like talking to me." 

"All right," he held his hands up in surrender. "Fine. What do you want to know again?" 

"What happened? Who was there? Were there any deaths? Did you feel bad about Octavian? What could have changed? Do you think your powers were most helpful, or were someone else's? What power would you have wanted in that scenario? Who--" 

"Woah, woah, slow down, Blueberry," Percy grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose. A killer headache had been creeping up on him all day, and now it was deciding to make its debut. "One at a time." 

"Do you think I'd be a good fighter?" Estelle asked, swinging an imaginary sword over her head. "I bet I could've beat up at least twenty Romans." 

"We're friends with the Romans now, and don't think about stuff like that," Percy said tautly. "You wouldn't want to be there anyway." 

"Yes I would," Estelle was still lost in her play fighting, jabbing at an invisible adversary. "I'd be the best hero ever. Your quest would've been cut in half if I had been there-- literally! Ha!" 

"No, you wouldn't," Percy's voice was sharp. "So stop thinking about it." 

Estelle drew back. "Jeez, it's not like I could actually go back and change stuff." 

"We've had this conversation a thousand times, Estelle! You know you wouldn't hesitate to get abilities if you could. And I already told you, it's dangerous. You're going to get yourself hurt, or hurt someone else. What if you accidentally lost control and hurt someone, like Mom? There's a reason why mor-- There's a reason why the Mist is in place, that kind of power is dangerous," Percy backtracked quickly, but Estelle was already sliding off the bed, standing. 

"No, say what you were going to say. There's a reason why mortals don't have powers? A reason why we have to be shut out from paradise? What, because you're half god, so that makes you so much better than the rest of us lowly peasants?" she pointed a finger at him accusingly. "I've met some of the gods. They aren't much better than humans. Some are worse." 

"Shut out from paradise? You think it's fun, running around scared for your life all the time? Scared for your family? Jeez, Estelle, you make a game out of everything. You don't want to be a demigod--" 

"That's all I've ever wanted! I want to be like you, I want to be strong--" 

"You can't," Percy cut her off. "You'll just make thing worse." 

She recoiled, heat flashing up her spine. "Right. I'm just a mortal. Nothing special. I'm an inconvenience."  

"I didn't mean it like that, Estelle," Percy said, groaning. "I just meant--"

"No, I know. I'm irresponsible, I'm a teenager, I'm going to murder Mom in her sleep and kill Dad and ruin your life. Again. I get it, you don't want me to help, you don't want me to invade your perfect, shining, Celestial-bronze world that you've got. Don't want mortals tainting it. It's fine," Estelle pushed away from the bed, temper building. "Not like you've even been to camp in the past three years. Or even been in touch with Uncle Jason or Aunt Hazel or Uncle Frank. Whatever. I'll just go." 

She stormed out of his room, slamming the door. 

"Estelle-- wait a second--" she could hear Percy's muffled voice through the walls. Estelle scoffed. 

Wait a second, like she'd forgotten a muffin or something pleasant. Like she was making a silly little mistake. Maybe it was the stifling heat, sucking the pleasantness out of the air, or maybe it was the itchy annoyance of having the same argument over and over, but Estelle couldn't stand this apartment anymore. 

She scribbled a note on the fridge --gone to camp, be back in a couple of days-- and grabbed a backpack. Her parents wouldn't worry, Estelle usually ran off to camp for a weekend or two when she was bored, especially during the summer, but Percy might. Might want her to stay away from camp, to keep from contaminating it. Better leave quick. 

She tossed in a few clothes, a few random things of makeup, the book she was reading, and a small plastic dagger she'd gotten from Annabeth as a keepsake. Just because her brother was being a jerk didn't mean Estelle was mad at his wife. Most of her other stuff was at camp already, stored in the Poseidon cabin, since being the sister of Percy Jackson came with concessions. 

Sliding on sea-green converse and slipping out the door, holding it gently so it didn't slam, Estelle took a deep breath of muggy concrete-fermented air. Then she typed into her phone, buying a bus ticket to Long Island.

Time to get out of here. 

The bus stopped and Estelle threw herself out of it, breathing the crisp air gratefully. The baby she'd been babbling with spit up everywhere, and while ordinarily it wouldn't have grossed baby-crazy Estelle, being stuck on a bus for two hours inhaling partially-digested breast milk was not a fun experience. Plus there was a crazy old lady who kept insisting her daughter was some sort of K-pop celebrity and shoved the phone in Estelle's face, making her car sick. 

She took a moment to get her rolling stomach to ease, trying not to hunch over. Straighten up, don't look at the ground, kiddo. It'll make you want to throw up more if you're bent in half. Breathe, through your nose, and fix your eyes on a horizon point. 

Leo Valdez had told her that once, when he'd taken her on a boating trip, just the two of them. Normally their big family reunions were swamped with toddlers underfoot and not a single moment of peace for Estelle, but Uncle Leo had whisked her away on a tiny motorboat and pulled them out to the ocean, relaxing in the tide. Estelle had never gotten seasick, but the car ride to get to the docks was a different story. She nearly puked on Leo's leather seats. 

Land legs and settled stomach regained, Estelle whipped out her phone and made a call. 

"Estelle?" 

"I'm here! Can you pick me up?" 

"No." 

"Please?" 

"Absolutely not, I'm not your babysitter." 

"Please!" 

"It's a five-minute walk, Estelle!" 

"Pleeeaase? Unless you're busy. It's fine, I can walk alone. By myself. Vulnerable. Abandoned by her protector. Susceptible to monster attacks. Put on my obituary: Estelle Jackson, murdered by her everlasting loneliness and--" 

A bleating huff. "Fine, I'm almost done with everything anyway. Start walking, I'll meet you there." 

"See you soon!" 

Estelle turned off her phone and tucked it into a little locked box by the bus stop. Chiron had quickly realized that banning phones outside of camp was near impossible, and bringing them inside the borders was out of the question, so he made a little safe house for them, disguised from Misted eyes by magic. 

She grinned and began picking her way through the woods, tramping down a nearly invisible hiking trail. The hike to Camp Half-Blood was disgusting, filled with mosquitoes, bogs, hanging clouds of gnats and prickly briars that left deep welts on the shins. But Estelle couldn't help but grow more and more light as she tripped down the trail, swatting at bugs euphorically. The road to Camp Half-Blood was more than worth the trouble. 

A warm, strawberry and sunlight kind of feeling filled her as she pushed through the last few branches, the shimmering sun dancing on the tops of the cabins just ahead in the distance. She stopped at the edge of the woods, taking in the sight of Camp Half-Blood like a person in the desert gulping fresh water. 

"Trying to ingrain the sight into your mind before you get kicked out?" a voice said dryly. 

"Cedar!" Estelle tackled the satyr-nymph with a flying leap, wrapping her arms around her friend. 

"Okay, okay, get off me," they pushed her off, grumbling, but Estelle spotted two minty green spots of blush on their cheeks. "Don't hug me ever again." 

"I make no promises," Estelle grinned, looping her arm through Cedar's. "I've missed you." 

"Yeah," they rolled their eyes, which was as good as a declaration of love from them. "Whatever." 

Cedar Underwood, the child of Juniper and Grover. Estelle's childhood playmate and basically sibling since birth, since both their fathers were determined they get along just as well as they had, if not better. They even had an empathy link going, though Cedar claimed that was the biggest mistake of their life, since Estelle had "too many feelings and not enough common sense". 

"How's camp been since I was here?" Estelle pestered, bouncing on her heels as they walked the clearing to the camp. Already she could see Isabella Ramirez waving from her lookout point, a tiny speck in the distance. 

"The same. Aren't you going to ask after me?" Cedar said, pouting. 

Estelle shoved them. "I thought you hated my guts." 

"Oh, I do, I just like the attention," Cedar tossed their hair, the thick curls bouncy and fresh as ever. 

Estelle had always envied Cedar of their lush, voluminous hair, even more so because Cedar seemed to care next to nothing for their looks. It's a waste! she'd protested. Beautiful hair on such an ugly soul. But Estelle had to admit that Cedar's dark brown mane of corkscrews would not suit her at all. It complimented their pale green skin and deep black eyes, and hid Cedar's little goat horns that popped from their head. 

"Idiot," Estelle shoved them fondly. "Fine. How have you been? How's interning at the Council?" 

"The Council of Cloven Elders," Cedar snorted. "What a joke. Seriously, they don't do anything." 

"They literally preserved about ten new national parks around the country. I think that's something." 

"Yeah, but the boring kind of something," Cedar scowled. "I want to fight some stupid humans. No offense." 

"None taken," Estelle shrugged, tripping over a root. "Humans suck." 

"Agreed." 

"So what, you've been filing bark?" she joked as they trudged through the grass. 

"I've been scribing. I literally just write down everything anyone says at every single meeting. It's exhausting! I want to rip my hair out sometimes." Cedar burst out, aiming a cloven hoof at a dandelion. Estelle gasped in mock-horror. 

"The flowers, Cedar!"

"Shut up, Jackson. I don't know why Dad wants me to just sit and write. It's a waste of time, and of my talents." 

Unlike Grover, Cedar was incredibly good, and most importantly, accurate with their panpipes. Their music made fruits grow on command, vines wreath buildings in a blink, and grass sprout in fresh carpets. Estelle had to admit that sidelining Cedar to writing was a bit of a waste, but at least they had powers. 

"Surely you have spare time," Estelle twirled some black hair around her finger. "Don't you help the Dionysus kids with the strawberries?" 

"And that takes, like, three seconds. I want to make something cool, like a cactus!" 

She snorted. "Gods, Cedar, I think you could make a cactus if you wanted to. Just pot it." 

"Whatever, Blueberry," they teased, nudging her with a shoulder. "It's fine. I talked to Dad about it, and I'm actually getting through. He's sending me on a trip tomorrow." 

"That's great!" Estelle socked Cedar in the arm, grinning. "You'll be a council member yet." 

"If I even want to," Cedar groaned, rolling their deep eyes. "So far it's nothing but semantics and snoring." 

"But you'd be so good at it!" 

"I don't want to be." 

"You could actually make a difference in the world." 

"Let someone else do it." 

"Justice for satyrs and nymphs everywhere!" 

"Yippee." 

"I mean you're giving it a try so that means you want to do something."

"Shut it, Jackson." 

"Oh don't be mean to me, Underwood." 

"We're here, anyway. Stop pestering me."

"But you said to ask about you--" Estelle laughed, cut off by Cedar clapping a hand over her mouth. "Mghghff!"

The satyr-nymph rolled their eyes and shoved Estelle away from them. She tripped, barely catching herself, and socked them in the arm again. Cedar grabbed her ear and pulled, tugging it. 

"Punk!" 

"Ow, let go!" She pushed Cedar off, snickering. 

They were indeed "here", just outside of the magical barrier that kept mortals and monsters from invading. Estelle rested her hands on the invisible bubble, feeling the Mist spark and simmer under her fingers. 

Camp Half-Blood stood before them in all its mishmash glory, each cabin bursting with life and color, like mini sunburst all over the place. Especially the Apollo cabin, since they'd decided to make their house glow like the sun. Drama queens. 

Peleus the dragon lay curled around Thalia's Pine Tree, just at the edge of camp, snoozing happily in a shaft of gold light. Little wisps of smoke rose from his nostrils as he dreamed, and Estelle made a little note to bring him some slices of meat later. Peleus had always been one of her favorite animals at camp. 

Inside the barrier, campers ran about, some carrying weapons, some being chased, some chasing. Estelle swore she saw Mainey Took terrorizing Theseus Xu with a flaming owl statue around the archery field. Someone was screaming about giant spiders, probably an Athena kid, while a Hecate girl giggled manically and manipulated Mist with her hand. 

"Home sweet home," Estelle sighed happily. 

"What are you waiting for, you sentimental nerd?" Cedar demanded, already inside the barrier. "Let's go!" 

"Okay, okay," Estelle surrendered, holding her hands up and stepping through. 

Each time she almost expected something magical to happen, like a claiming symbol would pop up over her head or her body would burst alive with powers. Something epic, a feeling of warm honey or exploding strength, coursing through her veins and lifting her up. 

But nothing ever did happen, except for the fuzz of the Mist passing over her. It felt like when you took a bite of cake, but the piece fell off your fork before it reached your mouth, so your lips closed over nothing and swallowed the taste of cold, bitter metal. Expecting the cake was the worst part. 

She bit back the flat taste of disappointment on her tongue and gave Cedar a bright smile. "Happy?" 

Cedar stared at her with all-too-knowing eyes. "Sure." 

Estelle took them by the arm, dragging them into camp. "Let's get settled. I want to say hello to everyone before the campfire starts, then spend the rest of today with you before you leave." 

But she still couldn't shake that dead feeling inside, the hollow space in her chest where wonder could have been. 

Where it would have been, if only she hadn't been born herself. 

author's note

yay the prologue! because i couldn't wait anymore and i was bored, and just to give you guys Estelle's backstory a little. think of it more as an extended character bio than anything else. 

having Cedar be an Underwood and one of Estelle's friends might be cheesy and cliche but tbh i enjoy their dynamic so much, i don't even care. but don't worry, Cedar is going on a trip, so they won't be around to take the best friend slot :) 

also, typical chapters will be around this long. i know it's really long for wattpad, but i think this is like, eight pages in google docs so it's really not that bad. i can totally cut the chapters short, if you guys want, but they might just end in weird spots :/ lmk what you think!

see you guys around and i can't wait for the actual story to begin!

CHAPTER ONE

ESTELLE PRESSED SOMETHING INTO CEDAR'S HAND, a fake pout on her face in a lame attempt to hold back sniffles. Who was she trying to fool? Only the two of them stood back at the edge of camp, and Cedar literally had an empathy link with her. They knew exactly what she was feeling.

What an idiot. A cute idiot, but an idiot all the same. Cedar rolled their dark eyes, clutching Estelle's gift.

"I'll miss you," they said grudgingly, squeezing Estelle's hand with her empty one. "Stay out of trouble."

"You know me," Estelle's eyes twinkled. "I'm not called Saint Estelle for nothing."

"Literally no one calls you that."

"I do," she snickered, gently pushing them. "Go on, nature awaits. Adventure is out there!"

"We're not doing Up references," Cedar said sternly. "I'm serious, Es, don't get into another mess. I won't be there to help you clean it up."

Estelle raised her hands in surrender, but Cedar felt a sour feeling tingeing their empathy link, and it didn't bode well with them.

"I'll be a good girl."

"Ew," they shoved her face. "Fine. I'm leaving. Bye."

"Bye!" Estelle beamed, waving her hand, the ends of her overlarge sweater flopping like bunny ears. "I'll miss you! Send me lots of dreams!"

Cedar huffed and turned, smiling to themselves. Oh, they'd certainly send plenty of dreams. As horrible and painful as it was to admit, Cedar actually didn't hate Estelle completely. Maybe.

Cedar slowly began walking down the hill, towards the bus stop, away from the only home they'd ever really known. Darkness closed in softly like moths' wings, and the firelight and warm shimmer of lanterns faded in the distance. Would their mission be lonely? Scary? Will they miss the warmth of humans and their meaningless bickering? Heart sinking, stomach bubbling, Cedar turned back for one last look, almost hoping someone would come running and drag them back.

The little silhouette of Estelle Jackson stood, waving cheerily, backlit by the honey glow of camp. She looked so soft and small in her hoodie, waiting for them to leave. Cedar tested their empathy link and found overwhelming pride, made even sweeter with the polarity of loss. She'd miss them, but Cedar knew Estelle wanted everything good for them. And this was good.

Looking down in their still-clenched hand, Cedar opened their fingers to find a little piece of sea glass, the exact color of Estelle's eyes. It winked in the darkness, shimmering off the distant firelight, and Cedar could see she'd engraved Cedar and Estelle into a little heart. They clasped their fingers over it again, a warmth radiating from it.

Smiling, shoulders set, Cedar set off into the darkness. Alone, but not exactly lonely.

ESTELLE TRUDGED BACK TO THE CAMPFIRE, smiling to herself, kicking at clumps of grass as she wandered back to the fire. She'd miss Cedar, of course, but she was glad they were finally getting out of the camp. Cedar was too much of a talented person to be a homebody.

Campers were clustered around the massive bonfire, already swaying and singing along to The Campfire Song Campfire Song Edition 53.6 feat. Apollo and Friends. The fire was a roaring yellow, almost gold, and six feet high. Some of the Terpsichore kids were popping out with dances to punctuate the song, kicking and laughing and nearly tumbling into the fire. The Roman exchange kids were standing at the side, expressions varying from thrilled to horrified.

Standing a little way behind the Romans was a very familiar, sulking face. Estelle sidled up to him, nudging his side with an elbow. "What, the cheeriness and goodwill too happy for you?"

Gil Rosales rolled his eyes, yanking his hair back from his face. "I mean these people fight monsters on the daily and they think it's a good idea to make lots of loud sounds and bright lights in a forest full of bloodsucking creatures? Good idea, guys!"

People turned at his shout, music faltering for a moment, before they kicked it back up again. One of the Romans muttered, "Amen."

Estelle snorted. "It's for morale. If we were mopey and depressing like a certain someone all the time, kids would be running into the woods acting monster bait all the time."

"And that's a bad thing?" Gil said darkly. "Half these idiots I'd personally feed to Peleus myself."

Another "Amen" from the eavesdropping Roman.

Estelle gave the guy a black glare, and dragged Gil by the elbow. "Let's go someplace where we won't be overheard, hey?"

They edged further away, deeper into the shadows of the woods. Estelle caught the eye of Nicodemus Hourani, dressed in vines and a soft silk shirt, and gave him a blistering sneer. Nico had always made Estelle prickle like a porcupine. Something about his smug little face and obnoxiously pretty clothes made her want to strangle him.

He laughed back instead, making an obscene gesture with his tongue. Estelle made a violent gesture with her own tongue, mouthing, I'll kill you, while beaming like a child.

Nico beamed straight back.

"Done flirting?" Gil asked, snide grin on his face.

She punched him in the arm, hard enough to bruise. "You wish. I'd rather French kiss an empousa than flirt with that douche."

"Better find the closest empousa then," he murmured.

"Let's change the subject," Estelle glared pointedly.

"Okay, fine. What are you doing at camp? Not that I'm thrilled to have you here," he gave her a dry face, and she punched him again, "But it's about that time when Paul takes you and Sally on a cruise or something. And I thought Percy was staying with you. What's going on?"

"Of course you would notice that," she raised an eyebrow. "Stalking me, Rosales?"

"You wish, Jackson. You're hardly worth my time."

"Oh because hating on the world takes so much energy."

"Actually, I'm editing my YouTube videos."

"Even worse. You're an A-rated geek."

"And you're avoiding my question," Gil smirked triumphantly. "So answer up."

Estelle groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "Do I have to?" she peeped.

"Yes."

"Damn you," she sighed. "Fine. Perce and I got into another fight. It was more or less of the same. You can't have powers. Why not? Because you're weak. Yeah but so is Octavian and he almost took over the world. Well you're a mortal too. So is Rachel! But you're just an annoying younger sister who's trying to take over my life and my world that I'm gatekeeping like a jealous little internet troll like that one friend of yours, Gil Rosales. Well you're right about Gil but--"

"Okay, okay, Jesus, I got it," Gil flicked a pinecone at her. "Enough."

Estelle cleared her throat, raspy now from mocking Percy's deeper voice. "Same old. So I ran away."

"Again."

"Again," she conceded. "I mean at this point, I should just screw school and live here."

"Or take advantage of the blissfully normal life you live, sans the ADHD and dyslexia, and go to a good college and get a degree and all that other happy stuff people do," Gil suggested.

"Nah, that's lame," Estelle brushed him off. "I want to live a big life, even if it's short. Explosions! Gryffins! Magic! Who wants SAT prep?"

"Me, I do."

"No, you don't, you're just saying that to be contradictory."

"So what if I am? It's better than nearly dying every day and having to play stupid games like Capture the Flag Featuring Death and Spears!" he made a cheesy fake-grin, like a salesperson. "Seriously, you're lucky you get to not die every day."

"Wanna trade?" Estelle beamed.

"Even if that was physically possible, which it's not, I'd rather not. I'm not going back to my mother," Gil said flatly.

Estelle slumped. "You're right. And this is boring. Let's go do something."

"My favorite thing to do."

Estelle cast her gaze around, drowning out the sound of campers singing and Gil grumping about some obscure Internet meme. She needed something to do, to get the itch out of her fingers and the emptiness out of her head. With Cedar gone and Percy's voice constantly whispering about mortals, Estelle's fidgetiness was building up.

Strangely, it was the silence and mystery of the woods that caught her eye. It seemed alluring, calling to her with wispy branches and flickering shadows. Hidden secrets lurked in there. Things to be explored. Estelle grabbed Gil by the wrist and began dragging him.

Then an eye caught hers. Rory Jones, big black wings folded majestically behind him, leaning against a pillar. As Estelle met his gaze, he shook his head slowly, mouthing Don't you dare.

Estelle gave him a rakish grin.

No, Rory shook his head harder. Estelle--

She turned her back. "Let's go into the woods. I'm bored."

"The woods?" Gil looked like she'd suggested to go have a sleepover in a morgue. "You're a real idiot, you know that? Yeah, let's go die, won't that be fun. You know, Estelle, I'm really concerned about you and your perpetual death wish. Why don't we go make a shroud instead so we can use it when you die. What's even in the woods anyway? Why--"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him, sneaking one last glance at Rory. The winged son of Zephyrs was staring at her, flinty eyed, arms crossed. She blew him a kiss, then turned back to Gil. "Maybe we'll find another abandoned bunker for powerless losers. We can call it Mount Olymp-less."

Gil's protests were cut short by the trees closing around them as Estelle pulled them into the woods.

The golden roaring campfire was silenced as they were surrounded by black night, trees closing off the homey light of the camp. Singing faded to silence. Low growls and moans echoed through the woods, and Estelle's every hair stood on edge, skin prickling, senses alert. A rush of adrenaline swept through her, kickstarting her heart beat into a rapid-tempo rhythm. Monsters were in these very woods, and Estelle was going to find one.

Maybe now she'd have a chance to prove herself. 

NICODEMUS HOURANI WATCHED ESTELLE VANISH INTO THE WOODS and silently excused himself from the hoards of people clinging to him. He was itching to do something besides sing, and he wondered what dramatic little Jackson was planning now. As annoying and irresistible to his charms as she might be, she was still a curious little thing.

People whimpered and made little pouty faces as he got up, trying to lure him back. He shrugged them off. He enjoyed his popularity, liked playing the crowd and making people laugh, but it was tiring, and nobody seemed to stay once they saw the Mad-Hatter glint in his eye. Just like fake rings, shallow interest tarnished easily and left a green stain on alabaster skin.

Nico squeezed between rows of campers, edging into the darkness, when a hand caught his arm. He spun.

Archer Umbra gave him a stone-cold glare, red eyes sparking dangerously. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Nico froze, trying to come up with an excuse. What would he say, following a girl into the woods? Camp Half Blood was loose, but not that loose. "Um--"

Archer flashed him a sharp-toothed grin. "Kidding, I don't give a flying shit. Have fun, don't give anyone an STD, be free little twerp."

"Uh, thanks?"

"No problem. Speaking of flying shits, Rory looks like he's 'bout to have an aneurysm. See you around, kid."

Then the son of Thanatos was gone, breaking through the crowd, heading towards a dude with wings leaning against a column. Nico rubbed his arm, where he swore he could feel a handprint still.

"Dude," he whispered to himself, then slipped after Estelle into the woods.

It took him a while to catch up, but it wasn't hard to track them. Estelle and her friend crashed through bracken and bramble like elephants. Actually, Estelle seemed to move gracefully enough. The other kid looked like he was purposefully snapping branches just to be contrary. They were chattering to each other as they walked, somewhat intensely.

He was out of earshot, so Nico crept closer.

"--want to fight anything! It's like you have a death wish or something!" the friend was saying, looking exhausted and exasperated. "Really, Estelle, this is nuts."

"Good thing I'm a squirrel then," Estelle laughed, black hair dancing in the night wind. Nico bit back a grin. "Oh c'mon, Gil. You know you were bored back there. This is so much more interesting."

"Dangerous and energy-expending, more like," Gil rolled his eyes. "I have a cut. I can't do this."

Estelle wasn't even listening, eyes lighting, scurrying over to a set of prints in the dirt that were spotlit by the moon. Nico chuckled to himself as Gil gave in and followed her. The two bent over in the ground, examining the prints. Nico huddled even closer to see, stretching on tip-toes, risking exposure. But since when did he care? Jackson would just have to deal if she caught him.

The prints were about the size of dinner plates, clawed and textured. Probably made from a scaly animal, like a lizard, but relatively small for these woods. Estelle put her hand inside the print, as if measuring.

"I could take it," she announced.

"You don't even know what it is, idiot!"

"It's small!"

Gil made several loud sounds in the back of his throat, then sighed. "As long as I don't have to fight it. Talking to you is like conversating with a brick wall."

"A pretty brick wall," Estelle was already following the tracks deeper into the woods. Gil let out a few swear words then tramped after her.

Nico followed, tailing the pair, unaware he had a tail himself.

Not a literal tail. Just someone following him.

They crept through the woods, Estelle hissing at Gil to be quiet when his protests grew too loud, Nico following from behind and enjoying the back and forth banter they had. It was cute to see the Jackson girl not scowling at someone, since that was all Nico got to experience of her. He didn't know she had another expression besides frowning. She looked pretty when she smiled.

Kinda.

The reptile tracks took them through the darkest parts of the forest, where eerie lighting made everything seem dark and bloody. Bushes rustled of their own accord, and every footstep felt like thunder to Nico. He wasn't a jumpy person, but the woods made his hairs stand on end. It didn't help that the clown show in front of him seemed hellbent on attracting every kind of attention with their loud bickering, but finally they came to a small clearing, unharmed.

Sunlight filtered through the opening in the sky, and a clear pond rippled with lily pads and small frogs. Estelle frowned, kicking her feet at the last print.

"The tracks end here," she announced, brushing her hair out of her face. "Why do they end here? It's not like giant lizards can just up and vanish."

"Maybe it time traveled," Gil suggested unhelpfully. Nico rolled his eyes in sync with Estelle.

"Maybe it took a left." Undeterred, Estelle began poking around to the side, wandering off into the woods, crouched over the ground. She quickly vanished out of Nico's sight, and he shook his head, laughing to himself. What a nut.

Gil was jabbing at a mound of rock with a stick, humming some theme song of some show under his breath, occasionally breaking his singing with mutters about the foolishness of headstrong women. Well, one woman in particular. Nico settled against a rock, making himself comfy. He'd resolved to only jump in if they needed a savior, that way Estelle couldn't be that mad at him for following them. He didn't care for sea slugs in his bedsheets again.

Instead, to pass the time, he began weaving a wreath.

Flower crowns were always associated with prissy little nymphs and shallow Aphrodite kids, but Nico had revolutionized them, if he could say so himself. Now nearly everyone at camp wanted one. To Nico, wreaths were sacred. They represented the true nature of someone, worn proudly for all to see.

For example, his very own wreath. It changed constantly, to match his clothes or reflect his mood, but always clusters of grapes bloomed, homage to his dad, and thorns prickled next to blossoming wine-purple flowers. Madness in a pretty wrapper. Not every person saw the thorns, but if you were to reach up and touch his crown-- blood would spurt and trickle down Nico's temples. It had happened before.

He made wreaths for people who caught his eye. A passing Apollo boy, a dancing satyr, that shy Roman girl who skittered away blushing. Anyone who ended up with Nico's wreaths became coveted and worshipped, until he passed a new one along. All Nico wanted was for people to have a little reminder of themselves.

Trance-like, he began weaving, plucking nearby plants as he saw fit, narrow fingers moving stealthily and growing vines when the ones around weren't suitable. Images danced before his eyes as he wove. Algerian ivy, a flash of dark hair, five-leaf Akebia, sea-green sparkling eyes, English ivy, head thrown back in a laugh, Japanese honeysuckle, sweet lips curved, poison ivy, sea slugs in his sheets--

Plants erupted from the ground around him, twirling and twisting into a crown shape at his mere thoughts. They wove together as one circular diadem, coming to a stop before him, and Nico plucked it off.

A gorgeous crown of white flowers and thick green leaves sat in his hands. Simple, sweet, but dangerous. Nico took care to avoid touching the poison ivy, which sat on the outer crest of the crown. The wearer wouldn't be affected, but anyone who touched her would.

Her... Nico peered closer. He knew who this crown belonged to. He'd hate to bestow one to her. He'd love to give it to her. To see the confusion flash on her face when her nemesis presented a pretty crown, to see her eyes light up, to see her nose wrinkle with disgust, to see her dancing under fairy lights with his vines twined in her hair...

"For me? How sweet," a voice cut through his dizzy fog, two hands plucking the wreath from him and placing it on her head. Estelle Jackson grinned down at him, the white flowers shining in her dark hair.

"What is it with boys stalking me today? I know I'm cute, but this is getting ridiculous," Estelle purred. Nico hated how good she looked in his crown.

"Give back the crown, Jackson," he stood, smiling pleasantly at her. Fire raged in his pupils. "Please."

Estelle danced away, stroking the leaves of her crown. "I think I'll keep it. It suits me. Plus the poison ivy is real cute."

Nico lunged at her, hands grabbing. She twirled just out of his reach. Another lunge, another twirl. In a bizarre dance, Estelle led him across the forest, laughing as his hands just scraped her back or arm. Nico was growing increasingly frustrated, the whirl of green around him spinning into unrecognizable shades. His vision tunneled around Estelle, the only clear spot her laughing face and dancing hair.

He'd been going easy on her, enjoying this dance, but now he wanted that wreath back.

He lunged again, but his feet changed placement, one darting behind her, the other in front. As Estelle leaped back, her leg caught on his, and she tipped. The wreath slipped from her head, both their hands reaching to grab it, Estelle's body on a dangerous trajectory towards a rather pointy rock--

Flowers and vines cracked on stone and fell apart, poison ivy scattering.

Nico stared in disbelief at the girl in his arms, muscles straining to keep Estelle from smashing herself on the rock. He'd picked her over the flowers. Her hands gripped the collar of his shirt, tight and white with fear. His heart was racing, why was it racing?

"I--" Estelle's eyes were on his mouth. Nico felt warm, like he'd drunk a barrel of wine. His head was foggy again, but with a nice kind of feeling. He drew her closer--

And that was when Gil began screaming.

LOLLY BECKETT HAD FOLLOWED THE POMPOUS LEAF BOY INTO THE WOODS. She hadn't bothered to learn his name, but always saw him cavorting around with some new fling. And she hadn't missed that mad glimmer in his eyes, the way he seemed teetering between sanity and hysteria. She didn't like him, not in the slightest. And she trusted him even less than she trusted other human beings. The bar had been on the floor, and the Mad One had managed to sink below it.

It was probably his passion for picking flowers that did it. Oh, yes, other campers did as well. But he did it in such a way that looked as if Gaia herself should be thanking him for ripping up her little creations of beauty. And he did it so often, and with such abandon, Lolly knew he had never stopped to consider the repercussions it would have on the ecosystem. Didn't he know all those wreaths could supply a hive of bees for at least a summer? Where was the consideration for nature's multipliers?

The ridiculous boy had carried on, worshipped by the others, because all humans cared about was themselves and all the Mad One did was elevate others' self-esteem by elevating his own. Any attention he showered on someone else made them feel better and made him feel great.

Lolly shuddered and slipped around a branch, not a single plant rustling. She had long ago perfected the way of walking through the woods without disturbing any animals or plants. After all, she'd hated when her grandmother and father disrupted her room. Why would the bugs feel different?

Already Lolly was despising his little trek into the thickets, but when she saw he was following Estelle Jackson and jerkfaced Gil Rosales, suspicious anger propelled her to stick close.

The Jackson girl had always bothered Lolly. Something about her had felt off from the moment Lolly set foot in camp. She remembered the day well enough...

"This is your cabin, where you'll be staying," Kurt Archer smiled very kindly at her, but Lolly ignored him. Athena kid. Worse than the Minerva kids, because Greeks lacked all types of decorum, and Kurt Archer would no doubt try to squash any poor arachnid that tiptoed near him.

The cabin was nice, though. A small one, that easily fit four people, and Lolly noted it had a connecting mechanism. There had been other similarly made cabins, except quite larger, and Lolly assumed that they could be combined and rearranged. Smart, for a Greek.

"If you need anything, let me know," Kurt Archer tried again, valiantly, but weakly. Lolly eyed him, stepped past him, and shut the door behind her.

She let out a little breath, set her bags down on the floor, and began looking for bugs.

A pretty Asian long-horned beetle crept past her, and Lolly brightened. It's black and white spotted shell flickered prettily in the afternoon sun, and so Lolly followed it, keeping a respectful distance. The beetle crawled out the window, clinging to the little cabin's walls, and Lolly went out around the house, following it.

Their little adventure brought Lolly through an archery field, past horse stables, and to the beach. The beetle gathered, with many other bugs and creatures, to nibble at a half-eaten sandwich on the sand.

Lolly lay down, observing the bugs, so focused on their little world that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching.

And didn't have time to stop a hand from brushing bugs off the sandwich, picking it up, and dumping it into a trash can. With sweet little insects still attached.

"You--!" Lolly leapt to her feet, eyes hard with anger. "How dare you?"

"Um, it was my sandwich," the girl before her gave her a weird look. Her black hair, streaked with a few grey strands, was done up. Sea-green eyes were scrunched in confusion, and she wore a tight black swimsuit. A surfboard stuck up in the sand behind her. "But sorry?"

"You murderer," Lolly hissed, fists clenched.

The girl looked at the trash can. A few grubs crawled around in the can, squirming happily. "You mean the bugs? My bad. Are you a child of an insect god or something?"

Lolly scoffed, turning from the girl, fuming. Humans. So self-absorbed, so thoughtless. Lolly had half a mind to shove this girl right back into the water.

"Look, I really am sorry," the girl followed after Lolly. "My name's Estelle. This is probably a bad first impression."

Lolly brushed her off. "Murderers and selfish jerks."

The Jackson girl stopped following. "If you say so. Gods, I didn't think bugs mattered that much."

Lolly knew to behave. First day at the Greek camp and all, she needed to make a good impression for Camp Jupiter. But, gods, was she tempted to push the Jackson girl into the trash can as well, and see how much bugs mattered when they were eating her flesh out.

Now the three trolls before her were leaving footprints in the grass, flattening entire worlds and thousands of bugs. Lolly scowled as the Mad One began growing plants haphazardly, introducing all kinds of alien species to the woods. The Jackson girl was tramping through plants like they were bubble wrap, crushing and popping every bug in her way. Gil Rosales, the horrible little boy, was perched on the big drakon in the middle of the clearing. Lolly didn't think laying on a sleeping drakon was a wise decision, but she wouldn't be lifting a hand to interfere.

One less human, especially such a despicable one, would be better for the bugs. And Lolly too. She hoped the drakon would eat Jackson and the crazy kid as well.

At a buzzing by her ear, Lolly turned and found, to her everlasting pleasant surprise, a bee. It zipped by her ear, wiggling and dancing, and Lolly nodded delightedly.

"Well that is very good to hear," she smiled. "Thank you, friend."

A waft of friendly pheromones and another little dance, and the bee zipped off. She was one of the many members of Lolly's favorite hive, one she'd taken care of ever since she'd came to Camp Half Blood. The worker drone was simply updating her on everything in the hive, the births of new bees, and the deaths of old ones. Death was a natural part of life, so Lolly wasn't saddened, but very reluctant to see more bees go.

A bone-crunching snap, and Lolly looked up to see the Mad One and the Jackson girl stampeding through the woods, chasing each other and destroying ant's nests and beetle eggs. Lolly twitched angrily, brown creasing in a glare. She had half a mind to ask the bees to sting them, the buffoons.

Then something drew her eye. Perhaps Gil Rosales didn't know he was laying on a drakon, because once the baby began to move, he screamed and scrambled off, eyes wide with terror. The drakon was only a baby one, about a tenth of the size it would become, but Gil Rosales was half the size of the baby, and was probably terrified. Lolly didn't know for sure, but from her observations, screaming and running away from something meant one was scared.

The Mad One and the Jackson girl turned from their strange embrace at the sound of Gil Rosales' scream, and both went running. Crushing more bugs, ending more lives. Lolly shuddered, lips white with anger. They should just die and be done with it, instead of hurting the poor bugs.

The drakon attacked, and Lolly watched with interest. The only real fighter here was the son of Dionysus. Gil Rosales never cared for battle, and the cost was being paid dearly now. She laughed a little to herself, watching the fight unfold. The Jackson girl couldn't save even herself if she tried. But the Mad One had his limits, and vines springing up to contain the drakon were like candy floss in water. Useless and disgusting.

And if Lolly were a betting woman, she'd place money on the drakon.

author's note

a cliffhanger ish? i feel like this was kinda rushed, but i want to get into the meat of the plot, and this is just the bread.

if my metaphor doesn't make sense, as i'm prone to do, this is just the set up for the quest. this is how all our characters meet each other, end up in the same place, and you'll understand more when the next chapter is out. which i've already started to write, so that'll be hopefully soon!

isn't lolly a mood? i love her so much, i hope i'm doing her justice. tbh they're all fun to write, which is why i think i'm speeding along so fast. i literally (re)wrote this all today XD

stay tuned for chapter two! thanks, as always, for reading. ttyl! 

CHAPTER TWO

RORY JONES WAS OFTEN TOLD HE HAD "ONE JOB". And he was often told that because he often failed to complete said "one job".

Which, to be fair, was true. He kinda maybe sorta forgot a lot of things he had to do. It drove Chiron up the wall, especially considering that Rory was one of the senior members of Camp Half-Blood, and a lot of the younger kids looked up to him. He was a bad role model.

Apparently.

But Rory could take things seriously. If life and death hung in the balance, if true morality was at stake, Rory wouldn't hesitate to do the right thing and keep pressing for it until he won.

So when Percy Jackson asked him for a favour, Rory listened right up.

"Hey, man," Rory glanced up to see the head of Percy Jackson poking in his doorframe, the rest of his body outside of the cabin. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah of course! Of course, yeah, man, of course," Rory blurted, scrambling up to-- actually, he had no idea why he was standing. But now his wings were knocking things over and he was bending to pick them up but that knocked more things over and gods above Percy Jackson was in his house asking to talk to him--

"Chill, dude," Percy gave him a kind smile. "I'll only be here for a little."

"Oh, okay, yeah," Rory nodded, then winced. Damnit, take a shot every time he said 'yeah'. "What's up?"

Smooth.

Percy sat down on the edge of Rory's bed, weight heavy. It felt like a lot more weighed him down, making the bed sag even lower.

"My sister, Estelle..."

"The one who likes setting chicken on fire and releasing them in the Dionysus cabin? I've heard of her," Rory grinned. "Kinda genius if you ask me."

Percy grimaced. "I was hoping she'd grow out of fire pranks, but apparently not... Anyway, yeah that one. I hate to bother you, but if you could, will you keep an eye out for her? I'm worried. About her, but also about how everyone else treats her."

"Everyone loves Estelle!" Rory said, then thought about it. "Well, actually-- never mind, you don't need to know. Continue."

"Right... Anyway, just... make sure she stays in line? She's been, well, insecure about being a mortal. And when Estelle gets insecure, she gets reckless. Once she chopped off all her hair and dyed it blond because some kid called her ugly." Percy's brow creased, and Rory could totally picture him towering over some kid punk, about to beat him up with his sword, for bullying his sister. He could also totally picture Estelle gnawing away at her hair with scissors.

"Yeah, but Estelle's a big girl. She can handle herself."

Percy pulled a face. "Estelle talks a big talk. But she's irresponsible, reckless. Flighty, even. If she runs free, she's going to get someone hurt. Or hurt herself. She's obsessed with the idea of being powerful, always has been. You know she got suspended in middle school for running a pyramid scheme and manipulating other kids to pay her money? All for the power of it. I just don't want somebody that... dangerous being let off a leash."

"I got you, dude," Rory assured him, patting his back. "I always liked Estelle, anyway. Probably would've got her back even if you hadn't asked."

Percy looked like he might regret asking Rory, but stood and shook his hand. "Thanks, man. It means a lot. I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to her."

He nodded solemnly, following Percy to the door. "I'll watch her like a hawk."

And he had. The one thing Rory never forgot, never lost to the fancy flighty fantasies in his head, was that he had to protect Estelle Jackson.

For one thing, he owed everything good he had to Percy Jackson. It was Percy who'd found him, shivering, emaciated and dying in his sweltering apartment building, blood seeping down his back as his wings unfurled. Percy who'd brought him to camp, tucked him into a Hermes bed, and stayed with him until he fell asleep.

And because of that, now Rory had friends, family, food. A warm bed and warm smiles. Even if people shook their heads and cursed Rory the gossip, he knew it was from love. They were really all one, big family. Before, when Rory had nothing, now he had everything. All thanks to Percy.

But not just for Percy (even though Rory probably would've done anything for Percy Jackson), but also for himself. Rory needed to prove he could watch over Estelle, because maybe it would mean he could become a better person. No more irresponsible, reckless, flighty Rory. Instead he could be somebody people actually trusted.

Rory had stopped Estelle from trying to canoe all the way to Maine. He'd dragged her back by the collar when she wanted to brew a seduction potion in the Hecate cabin. He suspended her from archery after she tried to shoot vines off Nicodemus Hourani's head. And being a prank connoisseur himself, it pained him to put an end to all these epic adventures, but he owed it to Percy.

Owed it to himself.

And of course Estelle had ventured into the woods multiple times in her history of Treacherous Affairs, but never with the same reckless glint in her eye she had as she vanished from the firelight of the bonfire.

He rose to go after her, spreading his wings, preparing to push off, when a hand looped around his shoulders.

"Rory, sweetheart, what's got your panties in a twist?"

Rory glared at Archer, stiffening his wings to try and push him off. "Archer. Lovely to see you as always, but I'm kind of busy so--"

"Nonsense," Archer winked. "Can't be too busy to catch up with an old friend."

"I saw you literally thirty minutes ago. I actually have--"

"What, work?" he cooed, a Cheshire grin on his lips. "Rory, we both know you don't do any work."

Rory bit down a rising wave of frustration. Every second that past, Estelle was getting further away and deeper into danger. "Archer, look, I'd love to chat but I have to do something. I'll be back."

"Gods, you're being rude," Archer beamed innocently. "I'm just trying to have a chat with my bestie!"

"Archer, let go of my arm so I can go stalk a girl in the woods!" Rory snapped, wrenching away from him. Archer clung stubbornly on, so both of them were dragged away from the bonfire and into a moonlit clearing.

"Have you betrayed us? You've left your birthright and become... a default?" Archer gasped, stumbling backwards, scrambling to get away. "I can't be around you, heterosexuality is contagious!"

"Not like that, perv," Rory stuck out his tongue. "Now I'm going before Estelle gets herself killed."

"Or pregnant," Archer added helpfully as Rory leapt into the sky. "Pretty sure Nicodemus was going after her."

Rory chuckled at that. "Knowing their relationship, I'm pretty sure Nico will die before Estelle gets knocked up with his kid."

Then he flapped his wings, gusting wind over Archer and knocking him back down, as Rory took off into the sky, hoping he wasn't too late.

GIL ROSALES WAS HAVING A HORRIBLE DAY. First, dragged into the woods by his best friend. Then, attacked by a drakon he'd thought was a rock. Two things that were on his list of Thing I Never Want To Do, Especially Not in a Row. Yes, specifically those two things.

Now he was scrambling on the floor in The Most undignified manner possible, trying to get away from the stamping, crushing claws of this beast. If the drakon smashed his leg, he'd actually be relieved (no more capture the flag), but he did hope his spine would be safe. Life as a paralytic would be inconvenient to say the least.

And where the hell had Estelle gone?

The drakon roared again, slamming its scaly grey tail into the ground and narrowly missing Gil's foot. He swore loudly and cursed the gods that gave him naturally pathetic muscles.

Head for the trees, the trees! If there were more obstacles in the way, it would be harder for the drakon to smash him. Gil crawled as fast as he could go, still not trusting the time to took for him to stand versus the time it took for the drakon to bring its tail on his skull.

Gil scrabbled at the dirt, surely ripping off fingernails and scraping deep cuts into his knees, but he didn't really care at this point. Maybe he should try working out, if he got through this. Life was too short to die by being stepped on because you're weak.

A rock bit into Gil's palm, the sudden pain sending waves of shock up his arm, and buckling his elbow. His arm gave out, and Gil collapsed to the floor, smashing his chin on another rock. He tried to push up again, but the raw cut on his hand stung viciously, and the most he could manage was rolling over onto his back.

Just in time to see a thick, tree-trunk sized tail come smashing straight for him.

Gil shut his eyes and swore.

Suddenly vines sprouted from the ground, wrapping around the tail, pulling it back. The drakon roared as more vines began twining around its body in double speed, looking like a bizarre fantasy-stop-motion-indie film. At the edge of the clearing, Gil spotted Nicodemus Hourani gritting his teeth, eyes flashing wildly as he mummified the drakon in green.

Gil exhaled, feeling adrenaline rush through his body.

Then the vines snapped, and the drakon broke free, shiny teeth bared in triumphant howl, tail released like a catapult from its suspended position, flying straight at him.

"Oh fuck," Gil moaned and curled into a ball, trying to make himself less of a target.

It didn't really help. The drakon's tail slammed into Gil, a wreck of scaly hide and thick muscle, and soon pain swarmed his head and he was blacking out.

ESTELLE SCREAMED IN NICODEMUS' EAR, MAKING IT REALLY HARD TO FOCUS. He was trying his best to subdue the drakon, but it was significantly harder with Estelle shrieking in his face.

"Could you shut up for a moment?" he snapped. He couldn't believe he almost kissed this girl two minutes ago.

"Oh, my bad, my best friend just got hit by a drakon and he could be dead and you want me to be a good little girl and shut my mouth and be seen and not heard? Sorry, toots, cuz while I know you like what you see, I'm going to scream all the fuck I want when my best friend is-- mhghgh!" Vines twisted around her mouth, muffling her ranting.

Nico rolled his eyes and turned back to the drakon. It was advancing on Gil, teeth bared in a hungry snarl. He didn't have much time.

"Hey, idiot!"

Not his best insult, but it worked. The drakon swivelled its head to snarl at Nico, still poised over the unconscious Gil on the floor, ready to eat. Nico flexed his fingers. If he could get close enough, he could give the big beast a killer headache and pretty bad nausea, but he had to touch the drakon first. His vines were doing next to nothing. He needed a distraction.

His first thought was Estelle. But in all honesty, she was likely to get herself and Nico killed. Plus she didn't strike him as the type to be content with the role of bait.

But what other choice did he have? The drakon was wary of him, but losing interest, much more focused on getting its meal.

Nico let the vines around Estelle's mouth fall loose. "Distract the drakon, I'll try and weaken it. Lead it away from Gil!"

Estelle shot him a dirty look but ran off anyway, bending down mid-run to scoop up rocks and sticks, lobbing them at the drakon. "Hey, ugly-face!"

Okay, so worst diss of the day award went to Estelle.

The drakon hissed and whipped towards Estelle now, following her with its eyes. Not chasing yet, but Nico would prefer to not chase down a moving target.

Dodging the whipping tail, Nico rolled along the floor, hitting a rock roughly with his shoulder and stopping just below the drakon's feet. He scrambled around to the side, avoiding being stomped, and pressed his hands against the scaly grey skin. Shutting his eyes, Nico pressed his hands to the drakon's leg.

Nothing happened.

Well, nothing happened, and then the drakon ignored Estelle and kicked Nico.

He went flying, cracking into a tree, vision going fuzzy. Something hot, probably blood, trickled from his lips and he groaned, slumping to the ground.

Shit.

ESTELLE WAS ALONE. Alone against a drakon, no less. More reasonable, logical people would probably try to regroup, or call for help.

But no.

Estelle picked up the closest thing to her --which at first was a squirrel, but it ran away, so she had to make do with a flimsy stick-- and pointed it at the drakon. "Let's go, loser! Fight me, c'mon!"

She'd taken sword fighting, she could do this. Just... jab and slice? Or was it slice and jab? Maybe she shouldn't slice. Or should she not jab?

Before she could figure out what the hell she was doing, the drakon roared and charged her. Estelle bolted, turning sharply around a tree. The drakon, much larger and less nimble, went barreling past.

"Ha, dummy!" Estelle crowed, sprinting back towards Gil and Nico. The drakon had regained its footing, hot on her heels.

Estelle scrambled up the pile of rocks the drakon had been hiding in before, brandishing her stick. The drakon roared at her, nostrils flaring, claws scraping at the air. Estelle roared right back, whipping her stick around.

The drakon was entirely unimpressed. It stopped, cocked its head, snorted once, as if to laugh, and stomped away.

Estelle gawked.

Instead the drakon began nosing at the unconscious body of Gil, deciding whether to eat that or Nico. Estelle stood, shaking, not sure if she was furious or terrified.

The drakon lowered its head, teeth level with Gil's head. Estelle couldn't give up, she had to try. Her best friend's life was at stake.

She hoisted her stick and charged, furious, the stick in her hand cracking loudly as she slammed it into the drakon's skin.

Nothing.

She tried again, tears forming, poking it in the soft spot behind its knee. The drakon turned to look at her, snuffled, and kicked her. Gently.

Estelle collapsed in the dirt, more toppled by her own failure than the drakon's blow. No, she couldn't stop, she had to distract it, get it to leave Gil alone--

Trembling, Estelle got up again, slower than before, and tried to put everything she had into her next blow. It glanced off the drakon's hide and twisted Estelle's arm in the rebound, cracking her shoulder painfully.

Estelle screamed, tears burning her eyes. Failure. She hit the drakon again. Her stick splintered in her hands, bloodying them. She pummelled it with her fists, howling and screaming angrily as she smacked at it, driving the wood bits deeper into her skin, brushing her fists and fingers.

Nothing. The drakon felt nothing, just nosed Gil around some more, jaw salivating and dripping with drool.

And Estelle watched as a drakon took a bloody bite out of her her best friend.

PERHAPS LOLLY WAS A BAD PERSON. After all, she was standing here, watching a drakon nibble on a human being, while another one lay half-dead by a tree, and yet another had a mental breakdown next to said drakon and half-eaten human. But why should Lolly get involved? These people were nothing to her, as harsh as it may sound.

And what could she do anyway, ask her bees to fight a drakon? Nonsense. Why not ask an ant to take on an elephant. Or a human to actually do something good for once.

So Lolly watched. She did feel bad, felt pity for the girl who failed to protect her friend, and the boy who couldn't protect the girl, and the friend who was being eaten. She felt bad for them.

But not bad enough.

NICO WOKE TO ESTELLE'S SCREAMING. What was it with that girl and screaming? If she wasn't so pretty, Nico would strangle her--

Wait. Stop. Take that back. Nico shook his head, trying to clear it of ridiculous notions like pretty Estelles or him calling her pretty or him thinking that she really was goddamn pretty--

He groaned as his vision slowly cleared, refocusing to total disaster.

Estelle was crumpled on the ground, weakly beating the drakon's hide with raw fists, crying. The drakon had lay down to take its meal, settling comfortably in the dirt, seemingly ignorant to the weeping girl beside it.

It was gnawing on a piece of flesh, human flesh. Nico felt sick to his stomach. Gil.

He struggled to his feet, using the tree he'd smashed into for support. From a taller vantage point, Nico could see Gil's body. He was still alive, Nico could see his chest rising and falling, but a huge chunk of his arm was missing, and blood was leaking everywhere.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Nico stumbled forward, ignoring the crippling pain in his back. He yanked a few of his discarded vines from before off the ground and bound them across his chest, making a brace. Whatever broken bones and ruptured organs he had would have to make do with that for now.

Staggering forward, Nico laboured heavily, breath coming in painful gasps as he made his way to Estelle. His legs nearly gave out as he reached her, crumpling into her sobbing body. Instinctively she hugged him, gently, clinging to his neck.

"Is he dead? Is he dead, Nico, tell me if he's dead, tell me, please," she gasped, choking on snot and tears. "He's dead isn't he oh gods I killed him Nico I killed him--"

Nico shook his head, grunting off the pain. "No. He's alive, he's hurt, but he's alive. Listen-- listen to me-- it's gonna be okay. Nothing Chiron can't heal, we're gonna be okay. It's gonna be--"

Black spots swam across his sight, vision tunnelling around Estelle, her red-rimmed eyes and runny nose filling his vision. Still pretty.

"Fuck," he gasped, collapsing to the ground. She cradled his head, gently, still sniffing with suppressed sobs.

"We're gonna be okay," she repeated softly. "Everything will be okay."

And then Nico was back under, swallowed by darkness again.

RORY ARRIVED TO A HELLSCAPE. How the hell had things escalated so quickly, so fast? A half-dead kid, another half-dead kid, and Estelle who looked as if her whole family had died three times over. All just laying there next to a drakon, who apparently was done playing with the three campers and was now taking a nap.

Estelle looked up at him as he landed, wind gusting and scattering dead vines across the clearing. Tears streaked through dirt and blood on her face. "Rory."

"Are you bleeding? Did you get hurt?" he demanded, storming over.

"Just my hands," she mumbled. "Nico and G-Gil, they're much worse. Take care of them first, please."

Rory scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec."

He found a decently long vine and, careful not to wake the slumbering drakon, crept over to Gil. He bound his bleeding arm with the plant, making a makeshift tourniquet, hoping that it would stop any more bleeding. Blood pooled under his unconscious body, soaking the dirt thoroughly, but Rory knew it was nothing Chiron couldn't handle. He just had to move quickly so the kid wouldn't bleed out here and now.

"I'll be back," he promised, scooping Gil up into his arms, unfolding his wings with a flap. "Stay tight. Try to wake Nico up, and keep him up. He could have a concussion."

Then he took off, wings pumping as hard as they could go.

He just hoped he could make it in time.

author's note

so... yeah. that happened :)

AND SPEAKING OF I FORGOT TO ASK (kinda too late for Gil and Nico sorry guys) but thoughts on your character being injured/killed? i actually was kinda planning character deaths loosely, and i can't believe i forgot to ask in the forms, so if you could let me know here that would be nice! if you don't answer, i'm just... gonna do what i want.

but yes, things got angsty and violent over nothing real fast, i know. so sue me, im a sucker for the drama.

and damn that drakon was really just playing with them and they all almost died i'm kinda laughing about that.

aaaaanyway ttyl, see ya around! romans will probably be the next chapter, so i can leave you in agony to see if gil survives or not :P 

(this was mean of me i'm sorry -2023 lyd)

CHAPTER THREE

CYRUS HATHAWAY HATED THE ROMAN WAR GAMES WITH A PASSION. Perhaps hate was a strong word, an unfair one, but there was such a strong resistance to any kind of fighting in him that he ended up coming on much stronger than he would.

Maybe what he hated was his own failure. Inexplicable, unexplainable, except that he was just weaker. Could never be a vicious Mehri or a steady Hadyn or a cold Roman.

He was stammering, terrified Cyrus who hated hurting anybody, who could talk strategy but always reiterate that they shouldn't do it, who saw no point in practicing death, and was quickly deemed the weakest link in Cohort One and Five's alliance.

"Why don't you stay behind and protect the flag, Cyrus?" Lesley Hallows smiled, blue eyes crinkling as she squeezed his elbow. "You're our last line of defense."

She thrust the massive, eighty-pound flag into Cyrus' arms. He was thankful his legs didn't give out as he took it from her, hoisting it awkwardly against his shoulder.

Ever since the war with Gaia, Greeks and Romans had been co-existing quite peacefully. The exchange of ideas, methods, tips, and stories strengthened both camps, and now Cyrus could hardly believe they had been sworn enemies at all.

One of those new exchanges were war games. Romans had taught the Greeks about all sorts of complex, detailed games that prepared the campers for battle strategy, but the Greeks had left the standing imprint with three words: Capture the flag.

Naturally, though, the Romans made it harder. Eighty-pound flags that were massive and neon purple, impossible to hide in plain sight. It required lugging it, figuring out ways to hide it despite its massiveness. Then boundaries were drawn over a huge expanse of land, with forts and decoys constructed, and war commenced. Cohorts formed alliances on one side, and with one praetor per flag, and then the horns blasted and the games commenced.

Drawing blood was allowed, under the circumstance that if the injury was not healed within the week, the offender was charged a fine. Another lesson that taught anatomy, and the proper place to strike. Greeks called it maiming, Romans called it a life lesson.

Cyrus hoped nobody would teach him a life lesson today.

"Good idea, Hallows," Lilith Roday winked at Cyrus, brown eyes soft. "Maybe I can stick with Hathaway here. You know, keep the flag safe and all that."

"No, Lilith, you committed to this team," Lydia Choi said in her soft-lullaby-voice. Lilith bit her cheek, bowing her head sheepishly. "You're a centurion. Act like it."

"Yes, praetor."

"May, you're with Cyrus," Lydia touched the Greek's warm brown arm. "Do well."

May Zosima eyed him narrowly, but accepted the task without protest. "Yes, praetor."

Cyrus quietly marvelled at his praetor's quiet power. With six simple words she had tamed the wildest of the New Rome residents, subdued with no fight.

Unlike her counterpart, Mehri was all forceful respect and classically powerful displays of cunning and cutting wit. She believed in upfront power, dangling it like a trophy. She was obeyed without question, people jumping and scurrying to do as she commanded.

Lydia, though, commanded the crowds with another type of power: pure confidence. Praetor Choi had never felt the need to raise her voice, and when she did, even the toughest of Hathaways began to tremble. Everywhere she walked, crowds parted. And unlike with Mehri, while people chafed against her, they muttered no grievances against her.

Plus she knew everyone's name. Cyrus wanted to be like Lydia, with her simmering quiet power and simple ease. She knew who she was meant to be, and fell into that role so easily. Maybe it helped that she was a daughter of Mars, battle-smart and lethal, but Cyrus privately thought that his praetor would find a way to rise to power even if she was a legacy of the weakest Roman god.

Cyrus shifted uneasily as Praetor Choi, Centurion Hollows and Centurion Roday saluted him and May, then marched away from the cave they huddled in.

May turned to him. "For the sake of the game, I hope nobody reaches this cave, because we'll lose. But for the sake of fun, I really hope somebody gets here and kicks your ass."

She smiled, all teeth, and marched to the front of the cave to keep guard.

Cyrus sighed, shoulders folding, and sat down, leaning the flag against the wall. He had a sword, which he did know how to use, and an obscenely large shield that would be of more use as a bathtub or a stretcher than a battle tool. He hoped it was enough, because Cyrus wasn't feeling a war game today.

Maybe if he predicted a death, the games could stop. He knew he wasn't really that desperate, but it was fun to imagine the scene playing out, and his own body safe inside the cool shaded temples of New Rome instead of a damp, dingy cave with rocks poking into his back.

Cyrus resigned himself to a long, quiet game. He trusted Lydia and Lesley's battle prowess, and the impossibility of climbing this mountain to reach their flag, to keep him away from any major battle. In all reality, he knew this role was best suited for him in many ways. He just hated feeling useless, even if it was a task he had no will to complete. A worthless Hathaway. He knew the rumours, saw the looks. The one Hathaway that wasn't a warrior, wasn't some stunning calculating leader that knew how to whip up crowds and take down seven warriors at once.

He knew that everybody wished he was Aiden.

"Psst, Boss, over here!" a whisper jump-started him, kicking his heart into high gear. Cyrus gaped at the air, clutching his chest.

"Gods above, Asuka, please don't scare me like that!" Cyrus whispered, taking a deep breath, heart still racing.

"Sorry Boss," Asuka's eyes gleamed from the darkness, and from what he could make out in the dark, Cyrus saw Asuka crouched into an impossibly small tunnel, her head poking out like some neon-obsessed gopher. From her tone, Cyrus could tell that she was not in fact sorry at all. From her tone, he actually heard that she was smiling.

Gods above, Asuka, indeed. He'd need the patience of Juno to deal with this one.

"What are you doing here?" Cyrus risked leaving the flag by two inches to scoot closer to his protege, so they could talk without having their words bounce around the echoey passage.

"I was bored," she shimmied her shoulders and popped out of the tunnel. Cyrus felt claustrophobic just looking at it. "And Anas and Lilith said I wasn't really needed, so I came looking for you."

"So you climbed up a massive mountain filled with booby traps--"

"Pfft, booby."

"--and death pits, which were designed by Minerva children to be impossible to cross unless you know the exact path which to take, squeezed yourself inside a hole the size of a small lapdog in the hopes that it might take you to a cave inside, let alone take you to me, and all without leading the enemy here?"

"Yes." Asuka said. "Well, actually, not so sure about that last one, but mostly yes."

"Great, when I tell Praetor Choi about why we lost, I'll just tell her my trainee said we could win "mostly"."

Asuka grinned. "I'm pretty damn cool, aren't I?"

Cyrus let out an inaudible sigh. He learned long ago that sighing aloud only encouraged Asuka more, that giving her a reaction she expected would just make it easier for her to act up. Instead he forced a grin and said, "You're brilliant. How did you make it past those traps?"

Asuka tilted her head, questioning his sudden interest, but grinned, pleased with herself. "Well actually, the first few traps I didn't make past. But look, I'll have a wicked scar!"

She held up her arm, which bore a deep cut from her elbow around to the back of her hand. Blood flowed freely, deep into the crevices around her nails. Cyrus blanched.

"Are you okay? Are you in pain?" he said, gingerly examining it in the weak light. "I can't see a thing, let me start a fire first."

He withdrew his little flint and stone, cracking sparks into the bundle of hay and wood Lesley had left for him. The fire crackled quickly to life, burning cheerily with a golden warmth.

Asuka drew the rest of her body all the way in, and curled over the fire. "Ooh, feels nice. Like a warm hug."

"Here, let me look at your arm," Cyrus said gently, taking her hand. The cut wasn't as deep as it had looked in the half-light, but it would definitely need stitches. Cyrus unwrapped his red pontifix scarf from around his neck and wrapped it tight around her arm, swaddling the cut. Then he took his large coat and put it around her shoulders, watching as the jacket swallowed her up again.

Her body relaxed, a little dent between her brows vanishing. Her eyes were fluttering, heavier and heavier. "That feels--" she yawned, "--so much better. Th-thanks, Boss."

"Any time," Cyrus said dryly. "Perhaps next time we don't do such reckless things?"

Asuka gave him a sleepy slow squirrelly little grin. "Perhaps." Her eyes closed in a slow blink, and then didn't open back up again.

Cyrus sighed --aloud this time-- and watched her sleep. He worried about her sometimes: he was fairly sure she had a fatigue disorder of some sort. When she wasn't bubbling with energy, she was passing out hard.

"Perhaps is good enough," he sighed, leaning back, savouring the warmth of the fire and the company of just another body, breathing slowly and steadily.

It wasn't a particularly cold day, even though fall in California could get chilly, but the fire wasn't suffocatingly inappropriate. It felt right, not too hot, not too bright. Perfect, warm, gentle. Healing.

He fancied himself this little fire. Small, maybe, and unassuming. But it was a good fire. It didn't hurt your eyes or singe your hairs if you got too close. It wasn't aggressive and hungry, devouring fields and flesh. It wasn't single-minded, it didn't want anything from you. It burned wood slowly, considerate, like it wished it didn't have to drain the life of something to survive. It had no wish to harm, and Cyrus was certain that if he put his hand into it, it would not bite him.

He liked to think himself the same. Unlike his siblings, he had no wish to harm. Only a wish to protect, to keep the dark at bay, to lead people to a bigger light, out of a cave, through the shadows. To burn wood slowly, to be considerate of the things he took, to always give back without thinking of who gave first. He wished people would trust to put their hands on him, and know that he would not bite.

But he was a Hathaway. He was expected to bite. And when things did not go as people expected, there was resentment. Disappointment. Fear, hatred, disgust. Cyrus knew he could never be like his siblings, as much as he wished he fit in so seamlessly, as much as he wished he were Aiden--

He had to try harder. As great as this little fire was, it wasn't meant for the outside world. It would be invisible in the sun, it would be meaningless next to the blazing torches and pyres of Rome. It was meant for quiet moments, dark moments, lonely moments.

He never wanted anything so bad as to be one of those blazing fires, one of those blazing Hathaways. He wanted to burn up entire cities with one glance, to not care or hear the screams of sizzling agony. He wanted to be just as bright and ruthless as his siblings.

Cyrus gazed into the flickering yellow tongues, sleepily marvelling at the way they were ever-changing, ever moving, but still one thing. It was still a fire, even if it was never the same flame.

Shadows danced along the cave walls, moving slowly and softly, like a sweet moth's wings. Perhaps he didn't need to be a Hathaway, at least not here, by himself, with sleeping Asuka to keep him company. The fire was so warm, so comforting, and it was so easy to stare into its light. No darkness lived in the fire, no bone-cold seeping into his skin. No wars, no duty, no Hathaways. Just peace and something soft, so soft that when it touched his heart, he felt like crying.

Something he imagined felt like love.

And suddenly Cyrus was tumbling into the fire, mouth open in a silent scream.

He was at a gas station. In his hand was a torch, with the same fire from his cave, burning steadily. In his other hand was a cornucopia, filled to the brim with golden liquid, reflecting his own image back at him. Long brown hair, soft brown eyes, smooth brown skin. Cyrus Hathaway.

And more people stood behind him. Brown skinned, brown haired, brown eyed. More Hathaways. His siblings. Roman and Azar and Mehri and Idalia and Hadyn.

They approached him, eyes cold and hard, faces horrible and cruel. Their hands reached out, and Cyrus shut his eyes, wondering what kind of dream this was that he would be strangled by his family at a gas station in San Diego.

But suddenly hands were on him, and they were not around his throat. They clung to him, tight, so sad but so happy.

They were hugging him.

Embracing him.

Tears welled up in Cyrus' eyes as he collapsed to the floor, his family in his arms, clinging to him. His cornucopia fell to the ground, the torch with it, gold spilling around them in a circle. The fire caught the gold and surrounded them in a safe ring, warming the family, chasing the cold away.

"Finally, a Hathaway," Mehri's voice said, so gentle and loving, Cyrus hardly recognised it. "Finally, my brother."

"Find her, brother," Roman said, camaraderie bright as he looked admiringly at Cyrus. "Find the goddess. Bring us together again."

Hadyn tugged at his sleeve, playful and sweet. "You'll be the best Hathaway of us all."

"Find who?" Cyrus asked, dazed, still wondering what cruel dreams now gave him visions of a family this loving. "Who do I look for?"

"For the goddess of this place," Aiden stepped through the flames, tears shining in his eyes, arms open in an embrace. He gestured to the gas station. "Find her here. She will help you home."

Cyrus reached for his brother, tear falling--

It splashed into the fire and everything sizzled out, his family vanishing. Cyrus cried out, lunging for them, but now there was a goddess. She stood in silhouette, framed from behind by roaring orange fire, hands spread in welcome.

"COME, CYRUS HATHAWAY. THE GODS CALL UPON YOU. FORTUNE BE WITH YOU, FIRE BE FOR YOU," she boomed. "FIND ME, AND YOUR WISHES WILL BE TRUE."

And they were all gone, everything was gone, no gas station or goddess and he was waking up, head jolting from the cave wall behind him, and he was left back in the cave with the sound of his sister's harsh bark in his ear.

VERADIS COULD SMELL THE GODS ON HIS SKIN. She sniffed extra hard, just to be sure, then turned to the Mehri. They were in a clean room, all stark white and bright lights, ones that made Veradis want to bite something. It was too exposing, too naked here. But the Mehri demanded her presence, and so Veradis came. Cyrus lay on a paper-covered bed, eyes shut, breathing rapid.

Definitely divine, she said, sneezing a little. The scent of immortals always left her sensitive nose itchy.

The Mehri scowled, and Veradis tucked her ears back, slinking low. The Mehri was one of the pack leaders of Camp Jupiter, and she scared Veradis, but she was powerful. Vera didn't want to threaten or upset her, even by standing too tall.

"Figures, Cyrus gets a divine quest," she muttered, sighing. "So be it. Is he awake yet?"

Santana Puerelle shook their head, the child of Hygieia placing a smooth brown hand on Cyrus' slightly paler forehead. They always smelled weirdly clean, like an absence of smell, and Veradis didn't trust things without smells. But Santana was a good healer, she had to admit. "But I can bring him around if you want."

"Do it."

Santana shut his eyes, focusing, and Cyrus jolted awake with a snap.

"Aiden-- I--" he babbled.

Calm yourself, son of Hakan, Veradis placed her nose on his chest. She breathed right into his face, forcing him to take deep breaths.

He choked. "Meat--"

A real warrior's food, Veradis snuffled his chin. Now tell us what happened.

"You heard the wolf," the Mehri said sharply. "What happened, Cyrus?"

Veradis watched as Cyrus gazed at his big sister, something like regret flickering in his eyes. He was hunched, small and soft, like he wanted to hide. If he were a wolf, his tail would be tucked between his legs like a whelp.

"I-I had a dream. A vision. We-" he hesitated, eyes flicking between Mehri and Santana and Veradis herself, nervous. He didn't want to tell them something, she could see. Whatever he must've seen in that fire spooked him.

"Spit it out," the Mehri commanded. "We don't have time for this."

"It was us. Embracing. And you all told me I would finally be a true Hathaway if I came to that gas station. Then A-Aiden came and there was fire and he told me something about going home and then he was gone again, I lost him again, and a goddess told me to go to her and the gods were calling me or something? And there was something about fire and fortune but I forget and I'm sorry I know I should've remembered better--"

Veradis blew in his face again, and Cyrus stopped, inhaling, startled.

The Mehri's brow was furrowed, powerful jaw working as she thought. "Can you tell me anything else, anything at all?"

"Sh-she said that if I find her, my wishes will come true," Cyrus stammered.

The Mehri's brows set. "That cinches it."

"Cinches what? What do you mean?" Cyrus bolted up. "Mehri, what are you not telling me?"

"Everything will be revealed in time, brother," the Mehri gave him a cold look, pacing towards the infirmary door. One of disappointment. Loss. The look of a wolf who missed the killing bite. Veradis slunk backwards, out of her way. "Follow me."

Cyrus scrambled out of bed, clutching his jacket tight around him, and Veradis stuck close to his heels. She rose to about chest high on him, so when he stumbled, Vera poked her nose under his arm.

On my back, son of Hakan, Veradis wagged her tail. I'll keep you at pace with the Mehri.

Cyrus gave her a thankful look, eyes pained, eyebrows drawn back. He swung a leg up onto her back, settling comfortably in the crook between Veradis' hind legs and her shoulder blades. Veradis leapt forward, loping alongside The Mehri, their paces almost even if Vera went slow. The Mehri was a powerful walker, a powerful person.

"What's happening, Mehri?" Cyrus pressed. "Tell me something, please."

The Mehri blew out in annoyance, her eyes narrowed sharply. "The gods have chosen you for a quest. Figures, picking the weakest one. But so be the will of the gods; who am I to judge?"

Veradis felt Cyrus stiffen on her back, rigid in shock. "They chose me for a what?"

And because Cyrus was perched on Veradis' back, and she could feel every tremor of his body, she knew exactly moments before what was going to happen. So Veradis crouched low and braced her legs to take on the full weight of priest Cyrus Hathaway as he swooned backwards in a faint.

author's note

ROOOMAAAAANNNSSSS

kinda a rush job, and if i ever finish this, i'll def be editing a lot of this stuff, but yeah! romans! we got cyrus and asuka and mehri and veradis and lesley and yes i did turn myself into a praetor but a way cooler version of me because guess what i ran out of names and i enjoyed the irony of a greek name leading a roman camp.

anyway.

plus lilith, who was another extra i had to make, and is (fun fact) an OLD OLD OLD OLD OLD pjo oc i made when i was like, twelve! she's named after james roday, the actor who plays shawn spencer in psych. i was obsessed with that show. original lilith wasn't roman but you know what, i needed the name, so sue me.

mehri and cyrus are definitely challenges to write, because i have to be in a proper mindset to do them, so i hope i did okay! they were certainly fun, even if i did a half-good job.

don't worry, we'll be returning to gil and the others in the next chapter, then back to the romans to clarify the quest on both ends. it's gonna be fun!

see y'all soon <3

CHAPTER FOUR

NICO NURSED HIS ALREADY-HEALING RIBS, already fidgeting in the tight wrap wound around his chest, wanting to get out. He felt like a goddamn caterpillar suffocating in a cocoon, stuck inside this straight jacket-like healing wrap for a whole night. Damn, he hated being stuck like this.

What he hated more, though, was being sidelined. After wrapping him up with medical gauze and stuffing ambrosia down his throat, Chiron had put Nico in a bed behind a curtain and told him to get some rest. Rest he did: Nico passed out like a light the second his head hit the pillow. Gil was next door, in another curtain-room, and Estelle had curled up in a Big House couch to sleep, snoring like a cat.

Then sun beamed through Nico's room, shining a horrid light on his eyes, and he woke to the sound of Chiron's voice again. Estelle and Rory were hovering over Gil's medical bed, both awake and alert, and they proceeded to have one of the most interesting conversations Nico had ever heard.

Well, half-heard, because he couldn't hear most of it. And it was probably only interesting because he couldn't hear most of it, but still. Nico wanted to know what was happening.

"--make it?"

"Possibly but--"

"I should've been there--"

"--my fault--"

"Don't--"

"And that's my problem? I'm--"

"--shhhh, don't wake--"

"Just stop."

Well, he heard that clearly enough.

Estelle stormed into his curtained-off mini-room, fuming. She threw herself in the chair by his bed and glared at him.

"What?" she demanded.

"Why are you talking to me right now?" Nico raised an eyebrow. "You hate me."

"Yeah," she agreed, "But I also hate everyone else in this building as of right now. At least with you, it's normal."

"Gee, thanks, shitface."

"Right back at you, princess."

He grinned at her, and she smirked back. Estelle was right, there was something nice about the normalcy of it all. The regular routine of hating on each other endlessly was soothing, something familiar, after nearly getting his heart punctured by his ribs, dying in the arms of his camp nemesis, and letting another kid get killed on his watch.

Nico gulped. Well, when you put it that way... nope. No. Not going down that path, not right now.

He turned to her, voice soft, eyes melting. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask..."

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He flashed a smile at Estelle, all sharp canines and pretty black eyes. "Did it hurt when they drop-kicked you out of hell?"

Estelle smacked him, right on the ribs. Black spots bloomed in his vision, and Nico groaned.

"Ow, you bitch! That hurt! I got those defending your life, you know."

"That was a mistake you made," Estelle flipped him off. "Don't ever save my life again, bastard."

"Your fight with Grandaddy Chiron was that bad?" Nico pretended to be concerned. "Wow, must be hard, being grumpy with Mister In-Charge Of the Whole Camp So I Get Whatever I Want."

She smacked him again. "You're a real dipshit."

"Ow! What the hell, Estelle?"

"You're a fucking poet, Whore-ani," she rolled her eyes, but grinned anyway. That grin. He liked knowing he could still make people smile. "But yeah. That bad. They just-- they don't let me do anything."

"Mmm, where have I heard that one before? Oh, I know, literally every single trash coming-of-age movie ever! Are you 4'2? Do you hate pink? Are you one of the guys? Ugh, so hard, having a boy best friend."

"I will drop-kick you down to Tartarus and ask Hades to make you a special chocolate swimming pool."

"You wouldn't."

"Watch me. Regardless, that wasn't what I meant," she stared down at her fingernails, and Nico startled to see tears forming at the corners of her eyes, wetting her black lashes.

"They won't give me extra training. Nobody will even let me touch a sword. The most I've done was the shit five year olds do, with wooden daggers. And Gil-- I couldn't save him. Gods, I probably am the reason he got so badly hurt in the first place. I'm useless. You of all people know what that's like," she said slyly, peeking up at him.

Nico hummed. "Who saved your sorry ass? I can't hear you--"

"Do not SpongeBob Square-Pants me right now," she laughed.

"Aw, c'mon, that show was golden."

"Right..." she raised her eyebrow skeptically, picking at blue nail polish. Nico wondered if she forced Percy to paint his nails too. Nico glanced at his own black nails. "Speaking of, actually. Well, not speaking of SpongeBob, but speaking of you... What happened back there?"

The room seemed to drop. Nico wasn't sure if his sudden nausea was from his healing ribs or something else, but he was acutely aware of a bubbling in his stomach.

"I don't know what you mean, Jackson. Get more specific," he said icily.

She didn't back down. Of course she didn't, she was Estelle Fucking Jackson, always poking her nose where she didn't fucking belong. He was beginning to remember why he hated her so much in the first place. And he couldn't believe he almost kis--

"What I mean is, why were you holding back? I've seen your powers. I've seen you turn a whole room full of pegasai mad. Don't think I forgot that prank. And I will get you back for that," she warned.

"I'd like to see you try," he smirked. "That was epic."

"No, and we're off-topic now. My point is, you could've easily taken down that drakon. As much as I hate admitting it, you're powerful. And stupid and ugly. But powerful. So... why didn't you?"

Her eyes were still glued to her chipped nail polish, and Nico could see the dried blood under her nails. She'd refused any painkillers, insisting it all go to Nico and Gil, and her hands still carried a road-rash like speckling of deep cuts. Some of her nails had torn clean off, actually.

"Nico?"

"Gods, let me fucking think for a moment, would you?" he exploded. Some little part of his mind was sitting there, staring at him like he was a psychopath. Maybe he was. Why was he even yelling at her? She was just asking--

Estelle slammed her hands down on the bed. "No. No, you don't get to think. You know why? Because you were feeling what, sad? Or lazy? Or just plain out weak? Whatever your stupid reason is, it's shit, because my best friend is lying in a bed two feet away, dying. So no. Don't think, speak. Don't try to come up with some pretty little silver-tongued monologue to make me think of you as this pitiable little orphan case. No. You tell me the goddamn truth, tell me why you let Gil get hurt."

Nico didn't even have time to stop himself.

"Why don't you tell me why Gil got hurt, huh? Why didn't you do anything?"

"Chiron wouldn't--"

"Oh, yeah, blame Chiron. When has he ever stopped you from doing something you wanted? Maybe 'cause you didn't want to, maybe because you know that you could never keep up with the rest of us real demigods, and you just want to play hero without doing any of the work. News flash, princess, the rest of us can die. We're hunted every minute of our lives, and you can just throw on the title of demigod any time you want because you think it's fun. You can't even lift a sword, or kill a demon, or fight off a cold. You're weak. You're pathetic. You can't even keep a baby drakon away from your friend. You want to know why Gil's dying? Ask yourself."

Nico spat the last words out, eyes flaming. Estelle had stumbled back, flinching at every word that came from his lips.

The look on her face was what shook him back. Pure betrayal. Whatever soft and fragile little thing they'd had, that had hatched in the woods and grown literally seconds before, had shattered. Now its blood seeped all over the floor, all over Nico's hands, all over Estelle's lips.

"I hope this really hurts," Estelle lashed. And Nico blacked out for the third time today as she shoved him off the bed.

ESTELLE WAS NOT PROUD OF THE WAY SHE ACTED. But it also felt really, really good.

She flung Nico's curtains out of the way, wishing they were doors instead so she could slam them, and threw herself in the chair besides Gil's bed. Back and forth, back and forth. Back to Gil's little room. She wondered if she'd be going back to Nico's.

No. Maybe. If there was one thing she appreciated about Nico's little temper tantrum, it was that he was right.

It was her fault. She shouldn't have relied on anyone else to do her job. To save her best friend. That was her responsibility. Blaming Nico was the weak way out. She'd marched in there with every intent to scold him for it, but he'd turned it right on her and he was right.

That smug little Gaia-kisser. Damnit.

She needed to fix this, right now. She couldn't let this happen ever again.

Because look at him. Look at Gil. If they had been alone in the woods, or if Rory hadn't been watching her back, he would've died. He would be dead.

He looked awful. Chiron had cleaned off the dried blood, but Gil still looked sickly and pale, like the life was being drained out of him. Hundreds of needles bristled from his good arm, pumping magic elixirs, sedatives and painkillers into his body.

Broken ribs, three of them. One punctured his lung, though Chiron had healed that quickly enough. Apparently punctured lungs were common back in the day, and an age-old Greek remedy healed the organ quickly enough.

But bruises grew like spots along Gil's body, painfully thin, each rib visible through his brown skin. Ambrosia helped, and the Hecate kids had developed an even better medical version, but it drew on the strength of the body. Gil would be healed fully when he woke, but he'd be weak.

Estelle could see the fractured pieces of his ribs, slowly melding back together, and every centimeter moved, Gil's brow furrowed harder. It must've hurt like hell, the bones moving back through the muscle, digging through his body as they tried to heal.

And his arm. Oh gods, his arm. His entire forearm had been exposed, skin and flesh ripped off, a gaping hole that revealed shiny white bone and snapped tendons of muscle. Estelle had thrown up all over the front lawn, more from the guilt than the gore, but both were pretty bad.

Chiron had said that his arm would be healed fully in time. But it would take weeks for the magic to reform the tendons and nerves, and even then, Gil would probably lose feeling in the last couple of his fingers. He'd have to take ambrosia pills every day.

Estelle's bile rose again, throat constricting. Of course this happened, and to her best friend. Anybody else, literally anyone else. She was the only one in the whole damn camp that could let her friend get so hurt this way. Even five year old Thessaly could scream loud enough to scare away majority of attackers.

What could Estelle do?

Nothing.

For now.

Estelle looked down at her unconscious best friend, watching his chest rise and fall as he slept, smoothing the crease between his brows with a thumb. His long dark hair fell around his shoulders, and Estelle gently brushed them out of his face, braiding a few strands absently.

"I'm going to miss you, Gil Espina Rosales. But trust me, once I get back, everything will be perfect again. And plus, I'll hopefully be able to beat you in something other than an arm wrestle," she smiled sadly, squeezing his shoulder. "Sit tight. I'll be back soon."

Estelle pushed away from Gil's bed, smearing away tears on her sleeve, and walked out the Big House door before she could stop herself.

LOLLY WATCHED ESTELLE WALK PURPOSEFULLY AWAY FROM THE BIG HOUSE. She'd watched everything unfold with a mild interest. It was interesting, but not enough to get directly involved. Not yet, at least.

So Lolly followed Estelle down a dark path behind the cabins, since watching a moving person was a lot more preferable to two unconscious people on their sickbeds.

They wound through back ways and hidden paths, Estelle tripping over brambles and trees and roots. Lolly carefully picked her way around these obstacles, silent as the grave. Or as a praying mantis, since they were generally quite quiet, and Lolly liked the big green insects. They ate the smaller, uglier males, and Lolly could agree with that sentiment.

At first, Lolly was unsure where Estelle might be going. But it was soon clear enough when the dirt began to mesh to sand, and they were on the vert beach where they had first met. A hidden little cranny where Lolly liked to look for sand beetles, and where Estelle liked to surf and relax away from people.

Poseidon had gifted Camp Half-Blood with surf pockets, little sections of water that had perfect surfing conditions, and Estelle had found a secluded one all to herself. It was blocked off by a large cliff, so nobody could see it, and this was where Lolly watched Estelle have a sobbing breakdown in the sand.

She was throwing sand, slamming her hands into the water, kicking the water. Generally being ineffective at accomplishing anything. Lolly hoped she never looked like this when she cried. It was sort of embarrassing.

Finally Estelle tired out, and she plopped onto the ground. Wet, crusted with clumps of sand, Estelle began talking. For a moment, Lolly thought she was talking to her.

"Hi. Hey? Is that too informal? Greetings? No, that's stupid. Gods, this is stupid. Okay, wait. Lord Poseidon, my name is Estelle Jackson. You might know me, I'm your son's sister. Obviously not your kid, though that would be nice, no diss to my dad, but I just-- okay sorry wait. I don't know if you respond to mortals, but you talked to my mom a lot obviously so maybe you do? Either way I'm just-- I really need your help. I didn't know who else to ask. There isn't really a god of pathetic and lame mortals, except I guess Prometheus, but he's a titan and last time I checked was on Kronos' side. Anyway. I thought you might be a little sympathetic cuz we're kinda family, and I feel like you're a nice person. All I want is some power of some sort. I know that's a lot to ask, but really, it's a good thing to give. I need to be able to protect myself and my friends. I'm a danger to literally everyone I hang around, just by nature of being myself. And I can't do it anymore, I can't.

"I've never asked for anything from you, or any other god, before, and this is really important. It's not for me, I don't want to be some super jacked hero saving the world or anything. It's for everyone else's safety. For me, and Percy, and Mom and Dad, and Gil, and Rory, and sometimes Nico though he deserves to get hurt, and for Annabeth and Selena and Teddy and Teo and Bear... And all of their families. Uncle Leo, Uncle Frank, Aunt Hazel, Uncle Jason, Aunt Piper, Aunt Alosa, you get the idea. Everybody. They're all so... vital to the demigod world, and they're important to me. I can't leave demigods or them behind. And I can't keep hurting them. So please, please, give me powers. Just enough to be a good fighter. I can't leave this life behind, I can't, I can't."

Lolly watched Estelle plead, beg, in the sand. It was a private moment, Lolly knew, but it was enchanting to watch. Plus Lolly couldn't help but quietly point out that Estelle's wish for power was, in fact, for herself. After all, she could just leave the demigods alone, since that would be better for all parties involved except Estelle.

But Lolly didn't say anything aloud and that's what counts.

Estelle stopped begging, tears streaming down her face, and waited. Quietly they waited for some sign, Lolly motionless and listening, Estelle mouthing over and over again please.

Minutes ticked by.

Nothing.

Estelle screamed, raging at the ocean, grabbing handfuls of sand and chucking them at the sea. Again, inefficient, but perhaps cathartic. Maybe Lolly should try it one day.

When her tantrum subsided, Lolly cringed as Estelle lay face down in the sand. She'd be picking rock granules out of her lashes and scalp for days.

"I wish I could just be enough," Estelle muttered into the sand.

Silence. Lolly was hungry. Maybe she would eat tomato soup tonight, since it was cold enough for soup now. And she could as the bees for some honey and have honey toast as dessert.

Estelle's head popped up, startling a now-hungry Lolly, and she gasped loudly.

"I wish. That's it! That's fucking it! I can go to Tyche, she can grant my wish! I'm-- wow, I'm a fucking genius. Okay, okay. Um I need... food? And weapons. Yeah. I can do this. I can go, right now, tonight. Maybe a longer trip than I meant, but I'm going. I have to."

Lolly cocked her head as Estelle sprinted off.

I wish... what did Lolly wish for?

A lot of things, but she could think of one in particular.

And Lolly smiled as a bee alighted on her shoulder, wings humming like a lullaby in her ear.

Oh, she could certainly wish for one thing.

Lolly set off after Estelle.

author's note

okay, okay, things are kicking off!

next chapter; romans </3

also don't worry, we'll get lots of gil time in chapter six. he just needs a rest.

bye guys!

DRAFT CHAPTERS
[April 2023]

ANAS, CONTRARY TO POPULAR OPINION, DID NOT LIKE QUESTING. It was a rite of passage, yes. Every camper at Jupiter had to complete a quest to pass a certain unspoken level, and Anas thought quests taught a lot of responsibility and in the field decision making.

But he was already responsible, and he'd already made lots of decisions, so he wasn't entirely sure why he had to go on this quest. And he voiced these thoughts to Mehri, who was entirely unamused.

"You're going because I assigned you," her eyes narrowed, lips curled threateningly. "Because I am praetor. I didn't think I would have to explain such a thing to you, Anas."

"I'm requesting a reassignment," he said. "I don't think I'm suited for this position."

Mehri turned back to her papers. "Request denied. You're going."

"Yes, but why? I have campers to train, the kids need me," he pleaded, coming in front of her desk. "You can pick May. Or even Lydia, if this quest is that important."

Mehri looked up. "Because I respect you, I will give you three answers. Deny my order one more time, and you will lose much more than my respect."

Anas bowed his head. "Yes, praetor."

"One. I need you to protect my brother. Yes, I am sending Veradis, but she is only a pup, and I need someone experienced to guide the both of them. Two, you're getting soft, the last time I saw you playing a war game with as much fervour as you should have was three years ago. Three..."

Mehri looked him in the eye. The darkness of her brown irises startled him, and they almost seemed to be moving, swirling with some powerful energy.

"Three," she repeated, "Is that the questers are going to visit Fortuna, goddess of luck and wishes. And I believe that you, out of all the people in this camp, will have a wish worth questing for."

Anas swallowed the lump in his throat. "And Veradis?"

"She wanted to go," the intensity died, Mehri chuckling lightly, flipping through the sheets of demigod recommendations on her desk. "I couldn't turn her down. And she wants nothing, but a very large chicken when she comes back, so I complied. One less greedy human on a greedy quest, I suppose."

Anas nodded, apprehension roiling in his stomach. "Thank you, praetor."

"Oh, and stop by General Zhang's quarters, will you?" she called as he retreated down the temple steps. "I believe he wants to speak with you."

Anas made his way to Zhang's...

author's note!

since i'm restarting deep end, then i decided i'd just release the drafts that i had! poor anas </3 we never got to his chapter. ALAS, maybe next time! 

ESTELLE THOUGHT SHE COULD GET AWAY WITH EVERYTHING. Lucky for her, Gil Espina Rosales was very good at faking unconsciousness and very bad at sitting tight.

At first he'd just wanted to listen in on Estelle and Nico's conversations, but the thick curtains muffled a lot of the words, and he found himself drifting back to sleep. The sedatives were very strong, but Gil was also very determined to make sure Nico didn't do anything horrible or teenage-boy-ish to Estelle. She was way too easily influenced to be around a manipulator like Nico.

Gil thought their conversation, which was coming to a tense, shrill peak, would mean Estelle storming out of the cabin, and so he nestled into his sheets tighter, rolling his eyes mentally at how stupid both of them were. He really hoped this argument would mean Estelle hated Nico forever and ever, because he couldn't stand being around both of them.

author's note!

i mean, gil is my favourite. sorry, everybody else, especially estelle since she's my child, but man. gil. gil is everything. i'd never kill him off guys how could you think so little of me.

this was the chapter where gil was gonna sneak off after estelle and then nearly get nico killed somewhat accidentally from a giant spider. would've been a fun day!