A/N: I've been kicking around this idea for a Percy Jackson-verse fic for a little while now. While this is mostly OC-centric, main characters do show up, some more frequently than others. This story is a story of redemption, reunification, forgiveness, but also recognizing when someone has failed you one too many times. Set between the Battle of Manhattan and the beginning of The Lost Hero, I hoped to fill in some time gaps. Hope you enjoy!

Again, this story is centered around a group of original characters. Several characters from the series including Percy, Thalia, and many of the gods do feature, but they are not heavily involved. Think of this as a stand-alone book in the Camp Half-Blood chronicles. I hope you enjoy it!

WALK WITH THE SHADOWS

by Silmarilz1701

Update Schedule:

Frequent/Random

Warnings: due to some sections of this fic dealing intimately with the "child soldier" part of the Percy Jackson books, there is non gratuitous descriptions of wounded and dying children. As the OCs this fic focuses on are older (17-19), their perspectives have a deeper understanding of how upsetting seeing your friends dying in battle is than Rick Riordan often gave during the main Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. That being said, 17-19 year olds are still kids. And that definitely will shine in this.

All fics are crossposted under the same username to Archive of Our Own and Wattpad

Reparation (Noun)

the making of amends for a wrong one has done,

by paying money to or otherwise helping

those who have been wronged.

The Oxford Language Dictionary

PART ONE

Chapter One | ALEX GRIFFITH

THE ONLY THING ALEX COULD THINK as the clanging of metal filled his ears was how much he hoped to find Daedalus in the Fields of Punishment. Just so he could punch him in the face.

As he cut down another skeleton, Alex had to dive out of the way of one of Kronos' Colchis Bulls butting heads with Daedalus's bronze Charging Bull automaton from Bowling Green. Fighting the armies of darkness on the Manhattan bridge while having to avoid a bullfight hadn't been how Alex saw this day going, but then again, it was par for the course he supposed.

Rocks and sharp metal debris bit into his palms as he scrambled on hands and knees behind a car. He hissed in pain. His breath came in sharp gasps as he leaned against the sedan's back bumper. The whistle of arrows sounded overhead. Alex let his head rest back and looked at the night sky above.

Never any stars in New York. Today wasn't any different. Alex tried to catch his breath. He tried to concentrate on the voices around him. Connor had organized his half of Cabin 11 near two three-car pile ups. They'd dragged as many sleeping mortals from the cars as possible before defending their barricades. Safer that way. Strength in numbers, that sort of thing.

Alex forced himself to his knees. He ignored the way shards of glass and asphalt and metal ripped into his jeans. He looked at the celestial bronze broadsword by his side. It glowed a faint gold against the road. With a grunt, Alex grabbed the hilt. Using the car as leverage, he hoisted himself up, turned to face the armies of Kronos again, and twisted the sword around.

He could see children beyond the clashing bulls. Demigods, former friends. A knot twisted in the pit of his stomach. Two more celestial bronze tipped arrows whisked past him, finding their mark in one of the younger kids at the front. They crumpled to the ground.

"Duck!"

Alex scrambled back as Daedalus's bull slammed into the sedan. Smoke and oil poured from the gashes caused by the Colchis Bull's horns. Sparks flew from the hooves. If he hadn't been a child of Hermes, Alex would've been engulfed in flames. Even with his speed, Alex felt the fire lick at his heels.

Yeah. Daedalus would have a lot to answer for when he joined him in the Underworld. That was some small comfort of not reaching Elysium. He could pummel Daedalus not just for making crazy bronze automatons all around New York City but also for the Maze, driving his friends insane, and the Battle of the Labyrinth.

Alex vaulted over one of the piled-up cars, sliding across the hood to land square on his feet next to Connor Stoll. He looked at his counselor. Connor's dark hair blended into the caked-up soot and blood that streaked across his pale skin. Standing beside the boy who was several inches shorter, a rush of memories hit him like a punch in the gut.

Connor and his brother Travis had always been the troublemakers of Cabin 11. While Alex could pick a lock and pull a prank with the best of them, he'd gotten more of his father's athleticism and swordsmanship. Being the same age in the same cabin had brought a certain amount of rivalry and teasing. But as Alex looked Connor up and down for injuries, he didn't care about the mocking and pranks between them.

In fact, he almost wished he'd listened to the jokes about being a "Mini Luke" half a decade ago. Maybe he wouldn't now be destined for the Fields of Punishment.

"You good?" Alex said.

Connor nodded, slightly out of breath. He waved off Alex's concern. "Don't worry about me, Blondie."

He didn't look too bad. No obvious injuries, just out of breath. Alex figured he looked about the same. Well, except the gash across his left arm. But that could wait.

"That robot isn't going to last much longer," Connor said. He peered up over the hood of the car. "But—"

Both boys turned as screaming erupted behind them. Three massive hellhounds, black fur emanating darkness and eyes glowing like mini crimson stars, growled at a handful of younger campers.

"You take the left, I go right," Alex said.

Connor stared at him a moment too long. Cursing under his breath, Alex muttered an apology. Connor was the camp counselor for Hermes. Alex had given up any chance at that when he'd betrayed Camp Half-Blood three years ago.

"Sorry."

Connor's eyes hardened but he brushed off Alex's concern. "It's a good plan. Keep them distracted and moving."

In any other scenario, Alex would've found it funny that Connor sucked at stealth. Well, any other scenario except capture the flag. For being the reigning experts at thievery, prank wars, and causing chaos, he and his brother were notoriously bad at the whole concept of being quiet. With their slighter builds, they should've had a distinct advantage over Alex's tall, muscular frame and golden hair.

But a couple years hanging with children of Hecate had taught him a thing or two about stealth and subterfuge.

Alex kept his glowing sword hidden behind his right leg. He blocked out the sounds of scraping metal and mechanical roars behind him. He focused instead on the massive black hound currently scattering their three archers. Staying in the shadows for a few seconds longer, Alex waited for it to turn its back.

With a burst of speed, Alex covered the twenty feet between them. His celestial bronze sword slashed into the pelt of the hellhound. It split the shadowy fur with ease. In an explosion of dust, the hellhound disappeared, leaving the scared expressions of the three youngest members of the Hermes Cabin, Cleo, Damien, and John, staring up at Alex wide eyed from the ground.

He didn't know if they were more scared of the hellhound or of him, based on the way they scrambled back as he offered a hand up. Two of their three bows lay broken on the ground, strings snapped. Alex frowned.

Cleo shrieked. Grasping shadows surrounded Alex. Sulfuric acid filled his nose as his sword clattered to the ground. Hot breath and boiling drops of saliva on his neck made his skin crawl.

As he turned to face the piercing red eyes of the hellhound who had shadow-traveled directly behind him, Alex couldn't help but smile.

Daedalus would never see him coming.

Whatever eternal punishment the gods had cooked up for that fallen child of Athena, would be nothing compared to the momentary punishment via punch in the nose he would receive from this fallen child of Hermes.

A whistling noise cut through the air. Two deep thunks and the hellhound exploded into a shower of grey particles. In the rapidly disintegrating ashes lay two celestial bronze arrows. Alex whipped back around. Connor Stoll, standing atop a crushed car, flashed a quick smirk and a mock salute before tossing the bow on the ground in favor of his short sword.

Alex laughed. An odd sound on the battlefield, the shadows around them seemed to fade just slightly. The children of the god of travelers had sent the hellhounds packing back to Tartarus. No one looked too seriously hurt. They still held the Manhattan Bridge.

"This is going surprisingly well," Connor said.

He slid off the rubble and joined Alex by a lamppost. The ferocity and unpredictability of the bull fight in the middle of the bridge meant that few of Kronos's army had tried to squeeze past. Other than the shadow-traveling hellhounds, the invasion stood at an impasse. At least on this bridge.

"We could've peeked around in that jewelry store back there and been fine," Connor added. "Annabeth wouldn't even know the difference."

Alex snorted. Annabeth. Another slightly self absorbed child of Athena. But they owed a lot to her leadership and brains, so he had no interest in punching her in the nose for this automaton take over. He'd settle for Daedalus.

He felt a small hand on his arm. Alex looked down. Cleo, the little twelve year old. Her singed brown hair framed her even darker face, contorted with fear and, though hopefully not, pain.

"You're bleeding," she said.

As if she spoke it into existence, searing pain radiates up and down Alex's arm from the slash across his upper left arm. An arrow had caught him as he'd dodged out of the way of Daedalus's rampaging bull.

Connor whistled. "You good, man?"

"I'm fine."

He was fine. It was fine. Sure it stung like the gods themselves wanted him to suffer—which, as he thought it, didn't make him feel any better—but he could still swing a sword. Alex turned to look at the battlefield.

"I don't suppose any of you found any water bottles when rummaging through the cars?" Alex asked.

"I found two Five Hour Energy drinks," Damien said. He seemed to have gotten over his fright and instead grinned with all the mischief a fourteen year old son of Hermes could muster. "Along with five wallets and a purse shaped like a leather T-Rex."

Cleo grinned. "Can I have that?"

"I found it!"

"But you don't use purses, Damien!"

Alex cut in, voice a bit harsher than he meant. "Hey, you two can fight over the T-Rex purse after we win this, ok. For now, can I have one of the drinks?"

Both paused their arguing. But instead of passing over the Five Hour Energy, Damien glanced at Connor, frowning. Another wave of sadness and exhaustion hit Alex in the face. Connor glanced across at him. As he opened his mouth, an explosion rocked the bridge.

They forgot all about Five Hour Energy and the awkward politics of repentant traitors. Flames ripped through the shadowy darkness. The children of Cabin 11 shielded their eyes until it faded.

Alex and Connor both raced to their car barricade. The bulls had somehow destroyed the edge of the bridge, whether by blowing up some cars or through sheer strength was anybody's guess. But now the bronze bull of Daedalus stood victorious over the Colchis Bull. Hephaestus's tainted creation desperately whirred and hissed steam as it clung to the edge.

With a roar, Daedalus's Bull moved forward to finish it. In a true Lion King moment, his hooves slammed down on the bridge, sparking together, sending the Colchis Bull tumbling into the East River.

The cabin cheered. Their bull stood victorious. Alex grinned, about ready to take back every nasty thing he'd hissed about Daedalus. But not a moment had passed before flames raced across the bridge, lighting every puddle of oil dropped by bull and car alike. He and Connor barely had time to scream warnings before their barricades were engulfed in flames.

His ears rang as he lay dazed. Celestial sword no longer in his hands, Alex blinked away the stars. This was New York City. There were no stars.

Someone, lots of someones, were shouting around him. Every inch of his body ached. He grasped around himself through the glass shards and broken rocks for his sword even as he tried to sit up. Where was that damn daughter of Tyche when they needed a bit of luck? Not here, apparently. Travis's half of Cabin 11 had gotten Kitty.

His fingers found the hilt of a blade. Shouts, shrieks, moans, and the inhuman guttural clicks of monsters speaking in their own language came more into focus. Alex pushed himself to his feet.

Even in the darkness, he could see the banners of Kronos beyond the flames. He could see the steel and bronze armor of the demigods. Alex grimaced. He didn't want to kill them. He knew them. As the fire splashed light across their faces he even recognized one; Cecilia, an eleven-year-old daughter of Hecate. Sweet kid. A little too obsessed with vampire bats. It was all she talked about.

Shadows grew longer. Alex fell back, standing shoulder to shoulder with Connor Stoll. Neither spoke. This was it. Their bull had cleared the way for their enemies on the Manhattan Bridge.

Right then. Bring on the Fields of Punishment. He had a date with Daedalus.