Al's POV

No one says a thing.

I stared at Percy, his eyes looking any where but mine. Glaring at him, he shifted on his feet where he stood: right behind where my two best friends sat. Everyone continued in our silence.

"How long have you been standing there?" I demanded.

Ed and Winry immediately jump up and turn to where I was looking.

"Um, not that long, actually, I was just-"

"Dude!" Ed interrupted rudely. "What the fuck?"

Percy spread his hands defensively. "What? I just came here to tell you guys about capture the flag tomorrow; I didn't know Alphonse was gonna tell his life story."

"Yeah, well he didn't know that you were gonna be eavesdropping!"

"I wasn't eavesdropping!" He looks at me. "I thought you could see me," he excused, laying a hand out towards me.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe he couldn't?" Winry interjected, a hand on her waist.

Percy threw his hands up. "He was sitting literally right in front of me."

"Well you could've at least've said something."

Ed started to add another word in but I cut him off before he had the chance.

"Guys," I sighed. "It's okay."

"What?" Ed entreated. "No! No, he invaded your privacy unrightfully and heard all your personal secrets without your permission. That's not okay."

"Hey, I didn't hear all of them," Percy corrected.

Ed turned and glared back at Percy.

"Yeah, what did you hear?" I asked, not letting them argue any longer. "How many of my secrets did you find out?"

Percy didn't respond for a second.

"Just the last part," he said simply.

"Be more specific."

"The part about..." He waved his hand in a vague gesture. "The Achilles' Curse. And how it's like," he shrugged, "on steroids or something."

Had I been sitting up straight, I would've slumped back down with a breath.

I thought to myself, Thank the gods. He doesn't know what actually happened.

I chuckled. "I guess that's one way to put it."

Ed's POV

Today, I will finally be able to walk on my own two feet.

The surgery is done, the rehabilitation is over and I don't have to spend any more time on that damned infirmary cot. In only about a third of the time in the past nine months was I ever able to lie down on an actual, comfortable bed. I think I might need to have some work done on my spine, as well.

Anyway, Winry is having me do a bunch of tests to make sure that my automail is working properly and if not what adjustments she has to make. It's only been a day since she officially finished, but she (and I) are still confident that the limbs will work exceptionally. If all the tests go well, I'll be allowed to participate in capture the flag tonight (which I am seriously looking forward to. I can't wait to get my muscles moving again and bash some heads).

"Honestly, Winry, your automail's probably perfect," I told her as we walked to the racing track between the archery grounds and the woods; the one they used last summer for the chariot races. "There's no need to go to all this trouble."

She rolls her eyes. "You say that, yet you're still falling behind me."

I try to think of a comeback, but come up with nothing as I realise that she's right.

We make it to the track, a 400m ring paired with tiered stands for a non-existent audience. The dark green grass shines lightly in the morning sun, covered with small and delicate snowflakes that have seeped through the camp barriers. The frozen grass crunches quietly under our feet as we make our way to the starting point.

"Okay, Ed," Winry starts, putting her toolbox (that she brought for good measure) down on the wet grass and pulling out her clipboard and pen, "if you can jog - or run, if you wanna, I guess - around this track once, and in this weather no less, then your first leg test will be passed."

"Just once?" I ask, getting ready to take off.

"Just once," she confirms. "Ready?"

I nod.

"Go!"

My right foot launches me forward and my metal one follows. Step after step they work in sync, just as they should as they lead me further and further over the track. I try to bounce off the balls of my feet as I jog, to make my toes push my steps further. I don't receive much in response from my left foot save for a metal clank against a hard surface, a stumble and curse. I try again, same result. I shake it off; Just think about moving one foot in front the other. Repeat a few times and there you go, you're running.

The balance is, admittedly, a bit off, but what else could you possibly expect? My arms pump in opposite motion as my legs, blades cutting through the air as if paddles in water. I slowly but surely start to gain confidence in my new leg, transitioning form a slow jog into a light run. I begin to ignore the feeling of no feeling and instead focus on my goal: finish this.

I'm halfway through. I look to Winry who has now sat herself down on the bleachers, pulled her hood up and is jotting something down on her clipboard. Turning back to my path, I prepare myself for a final sprint.

The wind is whipping at my face and tiny droplets of snow are embedding themselves into my skin. I have to squint my eyes in order for them to not get damaged as I start to run faster. The final curve is upon me and I start to feel increasingly more comfortable using my automail leg (and arm, to an extent) and am certain that I'll pass Winry's test with flying colours. Just around the final bend and I'm done with the first one.

I slow down as I cross the finish line, my automail moving naturally and perfectly in sync with my wanted movements.

"Well, done, Ed," Winry congratulated as she walked up to me, holding her clipboard in one hand. "Your run was perfect."

I smile. "I told you your automail was fine. We probably don't even have to do the rest of the tests."

She rolls her eyes and walks back to her her toolbox, picking it up. "Come on... Hm. I really need a name to call you."

We start to walk away from the track and to the next test.

"What's wrong with Ed? Or Edward?"

"Eh..." she shrugged. "They're too, I dunno, plain, I guess...?" She shrugged again.

"Well, they're my name, and you can call me by them. I don't really need another."

She hums in response. "What about 'Ward'?"

I scoff. "No way."

"Uh, 'Goldilocks'?"

"Absolutely not."

"'Shorty'?" She grins.

"I will hurt you."

"Fine, fine. What about 'Wise Guy'...?"

I frown. "Isn't that what Percy Jackson calls his girlfriend?"

"No, he says 'Wise Girl'; that's different. And I don't think Percy and Annabeth are dating."

I stop. "Aren't they?"

Winry stops as well. "Are they?"

We stand thinking for a second before I wave it off and continue to walk.

"Well, okay then," Winry says, starting to fall in step with me again, "what about 'Cullen'?"

"God no."

"'Vampire Boy'?"

"Nope. Shut up."

"'Mr Swan'?"

"I swear to the gods, Winry," I warn.

"Okay, okay. So no Twilight references. Are absolutely sure about 'Goldilocks'? I mean, your hair is pretty long. And basically gold."

"Ugh. If it'll shut you up, how about, I don't know," I roll my wrist, waving my hand, "something about science...?"

"You do like your science. Hm... What about 'Physics Freak'? It has alliteration," she offered. "That's a plus."

I bite back a retort. "Okay. Gear Head."

She smiles lightly, as if content.

We walk several metres in comfortable silence.

"So, what's the next test?" I ask, eager to exercise my new limbs.

Without reading off of her clipboard, Winry automatically responds: "Javelin."

I nod. "Good. I'm ace at that."

We walk up to where they were holding javelin-throwing lessons, where the camper in charge was sending Percy off for some unknown reason. Winry went to ask the Ares kid if we could join while I continued to look after Percy while he walked off.

Winry walked back to where I was standing, a small bounce in her step. "Right. So she says we can do whatever as long as we don't disturb the class."

"Cool. So, how many javelins will I need?"

Winry consulted her clipboard. "Only a few. Could you get them for me?"

"Sure," I said as I went to the crate where they were held, grabbing three.

"Okay, so, if you can properly throw these javelin and not have your arm mess up, your arm will be good. Oh, and if you could take your jacket off so I can actually see your arm, please. Thanks."

I comply, taking my red jacket off and placing it next to me, leaving me with just a navy tank top on.

"Okay, so I just gotta get these javelins onto the target?"

"Yep."

Pretty easy. The target's a large square, about 1 or 2m each side, and we're standing around 15m away from it. I pick up one javelin in my right hand, aim, and launch it into the air. Throughout the whole process, Winry is inspecting my arm from where she stands, looking for kinks and errors. The javelin hits the target strongly; top left corner near the bull's eye.

"Oho, nice throwing arm, Hohenheim!" Winry complimented.

I wince. "Please don't call me by my last name."

She's writing something down. "Why not?"

Not able to think of a good answer, I shrug, "I thought we agreed on Physics Freak." I bend down to pick up another javelin.

"Hey, do you think I should try to hit that javelin," I ask, changing the subject, "or should I just leave it alone?"

Winry sighs. "Just leave it."

"Hm, ok."

Once again, I pull my arm back and thrust it forward, sending the javelin flying though the air, hitting the bull's eye perfectly.

"Haha, yes! Strike!" I exclaim.

Winry jots something down again.

"Hey, how does your arm actually feel? Like does it seem natural or does it lag, or what?" She enquired.

"Oh, the arm feels great. I can move it as freely and smoothly as a regular arm, and it can exert just as much strength, as well. Same with my leg. They're both great."

Winry just nods and scribbles something down.

"Okay, just this last one, then the reading on your arm will be finished."

I nod. Taking the last javelin in my metal hand, I wind my arm back, aim and fire. The javelin flies swiftly through the air, landing on the target with a definitive thunk. It sits to the right of the bull's eye, almost grazing the other javelin.

Winry takes her eyes off my automail to write down a comment.

"Okay," she starts, finished with her report. "Now only two more to go."

I groan. "Come one, Winry."

She looks at me through exasperated eyes. "What?"

I sigh. "You know your automail's gonna be perfect. There's no need to do any more tests or check-ups to see if it's alright. I passed the first two with flying colours, right?" I ask, knowing she'll confirm it.

Reluctantly, she nods a yes.

"See? Your work's fine. We don't need to do anymore tests. I'll be able to play in capture the flag tonight."

She thinks it through for a bit. Finally, she groans, "Fine. We'll stop. But don't expect to be charging into battle like some Roman tonight."

I smirk. "Wouldn't dream of it."

When hauling a sacred mummy up to its home, the last thing you would expect it to do is spit green gas and nonsense at you. Unfortunately for me, that is exactly what it decided to do.

After capture the flag, which frankly wasn't as interesting as I thought it'd be, the Oracle decided to stroll down from the attic and give out a prophecy to Zoë Nightshade, the leader of the Hunters. Apparently that wasn't supposed to happen, nor had it ever had happened or been or heard of or seen before. And for some reason, after the Oracle had placed herself down on a comfy-looking rock, she didn't think it necessary to walk back by herself. So Percy and I had been unfairly elected to drag the Oracle up to its rightful place in the Big House's attic. And damn, was she heavy. I never knew a dead person could weigh so much.

Together, Percy and I eventually made it to the stairs leading to the attic, sweating and huffing all the way.

"No, no, no, no!" I warn quickly, alerting Percy of the trapdoor frame that he was about to ram the Oracle into. "Watch it, Watch it!"

Too late, its head and the frame collide with a bonk, sending musty dust flying through the air. We set the corpse down, checking it for any harm done.

"Ah, man," Percy complains, "did I break anything?"

I inspect as closely as I can without gagging. "I don't...think so. Probably not. Come on."

We haul the Oracle up and into the attic to set her down on her tripod stool. We stand a few seconds, both of us catching our breath. I notice Percy looking at the Oracle kind of - suspiciously? Expectantly? Something like that - before sighing and turning back to the attic door. I follow suit, unable to wait to get away from the mummified corpse.

Once Percy steps through the door, I pause. I pick up a faint susurrus sound behind me before realising green, misty smoke being spewed at my feet. Percy realises this, too, and tries to say something before the trapdoor is slammed shut. The mist is now accompanied but a strange, low hissing sound, as if the thick tendrils of smoke are hundreds of snakes. I pull at the door, but it won't budge.

I whirl around to face the Oracle, green smoke pillowing from her mouth and her right hand outstretched, as if asking for money.

And then, a voice invades my mind, snaking in through my ear and infesting my head: Approach, seeker. And ask.

I stare at her. Her voice was whispering into my mind, hissing its words for my ears only.

"What? What do you mean? What, um, what do you want me to do?" I accidentally think out loud.

The mist started to swirl even thicker, grouping up in between the Oracle and I, forming a picture.

"Wait - no, sorry, that wasn't - I mean, I didn't mean to like, ask you for my destiny, or-"

I'm cut off by a voice in my head.

The sun, the flames, the wise alone

I catch my breath. Immediately, I stare at the formation of gas in front of me; it displays an image of people in a cage. Wait, no, it isn't a cage. They're in a - what is that? A sphere?

"I-"

Shall seek the ones once made of bone

I decide not to talk while she is. It just doesn't feel right.

To give up on what you hold dear

As I pay more attention to the people in the sphere(?) I start to realise more details. They look... dead. Faceless. Yet still alive, somehow. Like they were animated mannequins.

And left with but your deepest fear

They're whispering this riddle into my ear. All at once, they cry the words out; sinister images hissing sinister prophecies.

Though try to get back what was lost

And then, the group starts to go up in green, misty flames. They burn as they writhe and wail in agony, the flames whisking their lives away but not yet turning them to ashes. Then, fingers begin to clasp around their spherical prison, finally sending each and every person to their deaths. In a final whisper, a voice calls the last line of the prophecy:

An equal value is the cost

Just as quickly as I noticed them, the figures begin to dissolve away. I realise that I was holding my breath, and quickly let go as I take in the Oracle's words.

"Wait, what? Deepest fear? An equal value? What? What do you mean? You can't just say something like that and expect someone to understand!"

Seemingly as if to ignore me, the Oracle slumps back into her chair. The smoke is all gone, the silence has returned and the Oracle has finished its audience with me.

"What the hell?" I sigh to myself.

Snapping back into the moment, I turn and yank the attic door open, only to find Percy standing there, staring straight back at me.

In unison, we voice our urgent thoughts of the arising matter:

"We need to get Chiron."

a/n: hey there. sorry for not updating for a bit; i dont really have a schedule, which leads to updates being uneven and sometimes unplanned. the plot is finally moving along, yay! something that i prompised a couple of chapters ago but didnt pull through till now. tbh this seems like its gonna be a really long fic, so i guess im in for a really long ride. also reminding you to please review and f/f, because i really need those to keep me motivated. also, if you could add just a little something about what you liked or some constructive critism would be fantastic. please and thank you :) have a great day~