Disclaimer: All characters, settings, or other story components taken from the Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or Trials of Apollo series belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, respectively. I do not own any of the aforementioned. I do not intend to use this story commercially.
A/N: Hello! It's been far, far too long since I last uploaded. I'm so sorry. I plan to get the end of the story published (actually, this time) by next weekend. My writing style may have changed slightly in the past year; sorry about that, too. Please read and review!
A piercing howl shatters my twilight of memories.
My eyes fly open.
The forest is suddenly alive again, the air crackling with energy as the Mist hiding the golden net burns away. Campers are flooding into the clearing. Thalia and Jason appear, too, ducking under the net as if ducking out of thin air. I hear another howl, and Liliya bursts into the clearing. My friends follow a split second later.
"Liliya! Lils, you're back," I laugh.
"Sophy!" Esfir pats my shoulder.
"They're here," Neville says. "Your net worked. Everything's going according to … to …"
I follow his gaze, turning on my heel.
The pillar of shadows is almost as tall as the treetops. As we watch, it shudders, ripples, and begins to fade away. I see glimpses of an arm, the hilt of a sword, a Greek chiton. The Watchman.
Murmurs are spreading through the crowd, quick as lightning. A Hecate camper buries her face in her girlfriend's shoulder. Feliks blinks.
The Watchman straightens. He's enormous, easily taller than Hagrid or Grawp. I squint, but his face remains shadowed and blurred, like smeared ink.
Next to me, Inna shudders.
The Watchman turns, surveying the teens before him. The last shadows pool around his ankles.
"Exciting," someone says dryly.
The Watchman turns toward the noise. His lips curling in a snarl, he thrusts out a hand. A ripple slices the air. I blink.
"He's trying to transport us," Hermione murmurs. "Can he?"
Another ripple. This time, the air flickers.
"I'm not waiting to find out." I take a deep breath. "Hey. Hey!"
The Watchman stops. His hand is outstretched, but a third ripple doesn't come.
"Ah. Little Sophya." His voice is deep, reverberating around the net. "I-"
"Don't Little Sophya me." I cross my arms. "You don't get to talk now. It's my turn. You've caused enough trouble for us, our friends-"
"Our family!" a camper calls.
"Our family, and our lives. Revenge we can understand, maybe. Trying to end the world? Trying to bring chaos? That's too far. You made yourself into our enemy. This has gone for far too long. That's-"
"That's enough," the Watchman snarls.
"Exactly." I straighten. "Now!"
Across the clearing, a Hypnos camper raises a hand. Her cabinmates follow. The air grows murky, imperceptibly warped. Milky-white droplets form in the air, suspended from nothing. I stifle a yawn.
"Wha-?" Esfir blinks, then rubs her eyes. "I'm tired."
"Why is it affecting us, too?" Hermione looks at me, mildly panicked.
"I don't know." I rub my forehead. "At least we know it's working."
"Well, it isn't working fast enough."
The Watchman raises his hand again. His motions are slower, sluggish, but another ripple spreads through the air.
"Should we help with magic?" Neville asks. He pokes a white droplet, and it disappears, soaked into his finger. He yawns.
"Stop that!" I pull his wrist back down - and freeze, alert. "Wait." I drop his arm. A yawn builds up. I grab his hand. "Do you feel that?"
"What, awake?" We blink at each other for a moment. He spins, taking Hermione's arm.
"Hey! What - oh."
"Grab Luna's hand," I call. "Contact keeps us awake. Pass it on." I turn to Inna and Esfir, telling them the same.
Around the clearing, campers are joining hands with few complaints. A couple people trade places. People straighten, exhaustion receding. The Hypnos campers link elbows with their neighbors, hands still raised. I nudge Liliya with my foot, brushing my bare ankle against her side.
The Watchman's eyes narrow. He stifles a yawn. As he begins to fade, Nico's hand shoots out; the pooling shadows stiffen, keeping the Watchman here.
"I can't hold him for long," Nico hisses from across the clearing. "Do something."
I clench my jaw. What can I do? All the Hypnos campers are trying their hardest. We've made it this far. What else, what else …
My gaze drops as a blade of grass absorbs a white tendril of sleep.
That's it.
I link my elbow with Neville's, freeing one hand. My fingers pause at my pistol, then my wand. I grab a knife instead.
"What are you doing?" Neville demands. I ignore him, holding up the knife. It's small, but it's enough. I poke the tip at a floating droplet. The knife absorbs it like a sponge.
"Grab my wrist," I say, unlinking our arms. I stretch up, reaching a few tendrils. The bronze of the knife is getting a strange, almost pale, sheen.
A sharp laugh cuts through the clearing, making me jump. The Watchman is reaching for his sword.
"Silly girl. What makes you think you can stop me? I am ancient, a master of time itself, I am-"
I wind my arm back and take aim.
I'm not ancient. I'm not a master of much. Maybe my plans aren't perfect. Maybe I can't even shoot a gun.
But I can certainly throw a knife.
My knife hits the Watchman in the forehead. For one brief moment, his face comes into focus: sharp features, a thin mouth, glittering black eyes.
Then, cracks spread across his face, his arms. His eyes roll back. Campers shriek and scramble away as the Watchman begins to tilt. He falls, slowly, as if fainting, crumbling and melting into milky-white sleep. The last drops of the Watchman splatter as they hit the ground, already soaking away with a faint sigh.
Annabeth lowers her arm. Someone sits down. I let out my breath.
Liliya gives her happy bark.
"We did it," Luna says serenely.
"We did it!" someone else calls.
I laugh, and suddenly, the silence is broken. People are moving, starting to talk. Someone cheers. I kneel to hug Liliya.
"Your plan worked!" Vikenti kneels beside me. "We won!"
"We did," I say, laughing. "We did, we did!"