𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟.
in which the woods nearly claim a hero, and mischief quickly turns serious.
cw: some blood, minor injury, light hurt/comfort, mild angst!!
quests, you learn quickly, are liars. they dress themselves up as errands, a small favor. nothing serious.
yours? yours begins with the sky hiccuping.
it wasn’t thunder, or lighting, it just paused. like the universe was forgetting what comes next. the clouds were rearranging themselves into unusual shapes and the air smelt faintly of copper and flowers that entered enteral rest.
in the Big House, the room smelt like strawberries and lemon polish with absolutely no hints of anything dangerous. Mr.D is doing his usual complaining about something trivial, when a porcelain cup — not even close to the edge — slips from the table and bursts onto the floor.
but it’s not shards that scatter, it’s .. moths? iridescent rot-gold, moths.
they fluttered upwards and then dissolved into dark motes.
the silence that follows is absolute.
“that..” Chiron starts, “should not have happened.”
recently, something has been tampering with the camp’s enchantments. nothing catastrophic—for now, but charms were misfiring, illusions were mingling when they should’ve faded long ago, the magic was tugging at wards that were meant to protect demigods from worse things. far worse things.
Chiron looks at you, then after a long moment, he looks at Percy.
“retrieve the source,” he says. “before we let it retrieve something else.”
Percy volunteers immediately, like always, like breathing.
“not to scare you,” he murmurs to you as you both head to the forest, “but if something ancient is involved.. i feel like we’re already in trouble.”
it wasn’t hostile, it wasn’t dark. it was playful. the trees were leaning closer than they should, roots shift underfoot and laughter echoes where no one stands.
the deeper you went, the louder the magic becomes, the louder it hums beneath your skin — pulsing, like it knew you.
“it’s aware.” you whisper.
Percy’s grip on riptide tightens. “cool. hate that.”
in a blink, the ground gives way without warning.
it snapped, like reality folding a corner it wasn’t meant to.
Percy shoves you behind him just in time as a tangle of roots erupt from the earth, twisting and writhing into something half-formed: tree bark and bones, eyes appearing in places they shouldn’t.
a vine thrashes out and twists around Percy’s leg, yanking hard. he hits the ground with a pained gasp, riptide skidding from his grip.
it didn’t give him a break. another strike, thwap! ; this one hits him on the side. it tears through fabric and skin alike and blood blooms against his shirt, soaking and darkening fast.
panic spikes but you don’t let it root.
you step forward, regal aura flaring bright. the air bending as the forest is being firmly corrected.
the magic hesitates. just enough. long enough.
Percy drags himself upright, jaw clenched so hard it looks painful. “little help—“ he grunts, “would be great—“
the creature surges forward again, and this time you feel it reaching for you. clawing at you.
your voice cuts through the chaos, steady and sharp. the ground stills and roots recoil, the creature collapses inwards and unravels into leaves and damp earth.
you’re at his side instantly, hands shaking as you press them to his side. the wound is deep and ragged, bleeding more than it should. it beaded warm, slipping through your fingers.
“hope—“ he breaths, trying to joke through gritted teeth. “hope you’re not scared of blood. that’d be embarrassing.”
you channel everything you have, not to heal, but to stabilize him. the bleeding slows, the pain eases a fraction.
Percy exhales sharply, sagging into you.
you find the source soon after: a warped mirror that’s embedded in roots, you lift your boot and drop it down firmly. when you shatter it, the forest exhales—magic stitches back into reality.
Percy leans on you, his steps uneven, blood still seeping through his shirt. soon, camp comes into view like a promise and you let out a silent breath of relief.
you look down, your hands stained with dry blood.
Percy catches your expression, “hey. you did good. like really good.” he says, voice rough and quiet.
you swallow, “don’t do that again. you’re not allowed to get seriously hurt like that.”
he smiles, a little crooked. “guess i’m already breaking rules, huh?”
you reach the infirmary and the healers move fast. ambrosia, nectar and careful hands.
by the time they finish, the sky has sunk into a deep twilight.
Annabeth tries to guide you away, you shake your head before she finishes her sentence.
Percy drifts in and out of sleep, his brow furrowed like he’s still fighting the forest. blood stains the edge of his bandage, dark and stubborn.
you sit at his beside long after the lanterns dim, your fingers curled loosely into his sleeve.
at some point, his hand shifts. his fingers find yours and curl weakly but instinctively.
“hey,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed. “you didn’t have to stay.”
“i know.” you squeeze his hand gently.
the hours pass slowly, stars rearranging as the camp settles into a deep sleep.
eventually, you let the night fold around you, drifting off like a leaf carried by a lazy stream. your fingers still clutched in his.
authors note: I LOVED WRITING THISSSSS!! chapter 4 will be longer. hopefully in 2 parts?? but i hope you’re enjoying this series so farrr! also i can’t reply to you guys??? idk what’s happening bruh anyways. bye loves <3
@mimikila @ot8srzlover @madamweb28 @shithead3773 @skibidiev @viva-la-gloriaa @nxutella @st4rzsthings @malibushit @jiwlys @loonylups @pleuri @eithel-ln4 @its-mia1 @hppercyjacksonlover
