"It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul."
He heard the shouting before anything else, a desperate screech that was pleading for help. Luke quickly unsheathed his sword, the gleaming bronze providing a comforting weight in his hands as he rushed out the borders of camp towards where the sound was. A demigod in need, probably rushing to camp for the first time, one he could save. One he would save. Luke wouldn't stand for another dead demigod on the borders of camp. Never again. He was surefooted as he neared closer to the pleas, the overgrown grass surrounding camp doing little to hamper his progress. The closer he got, the more the voice sounded familiar though, and a sinking feeling arose in his gut.
Bursting into a clearing, the sight before his eyes filled him with horror. Bile rising to his mouth at a scene from his nightmares. His little brother, Connor Stoll, was stumbling forward with blood leaking from multiple wounds. A hand tightly clutching a short sword, and his other arm dragging Luke's other brother, Travis Stoll. Travis was covered in blood, with more steadily dripping from a gaping hole in his side. Luke sheathed his sword, and tried to pinpoint every injury as he rushed over onto Travis' other side. One arm lifting the unconscious (Please don't be dead.) boy's weight onto himself, and the other hand trying to apply some sort of pressure to the abdominal wound.
"Luke." Connor cried out, "Thank Gods your here. He won't wake up, and there's so much blood. I couldn't do anything. Please save him. Please." The words came out in a tumble and were thick with emotions.
"It's okay, Connor." Luke tried to speak calmly, his internal panicking getting pushed to the rear as he moved onwards steadily, knowing every moment was vital as they headed to camp. He had to be calm for them. "Tell me what happened."
Connor gasped out a few quick breaths but seemed to get himself under control. "Hellhounds, a whole pack of them."
Luke stumbled slightly, before quickly righting himself. That shouldn't be possible, couldn't be possible. He was promised they were under his control. That they wouldn't act without his direction. Disgust and horror arose in him once more, but he pushed it down, he could think of that later, he had a brother to save.
"There were so many, but we fought them. I swear we did, and we nearly won. Then I don't know what happened but one of them got him..."
He attempted to quash all his conflicting emotions as they finally started to cross the camp borders. "You done good, Connor." He tried to comfort, "Now run ahead, and get Chiron to prepare."
Without a word, his younger brother raced down the hill with the speed of a child of Hermes, his gait slightly uneven from his wounds. Luke followed steadily with the uncomfortable weight of his dying brother; his hands sticky with the still warm blood flowing over them. It seemed like it took forever for him to finally stumble through the doors of the Big House, the unofficial main building of the camp that housed the Oracle, Chiron, Mr.D - The Camp Director, and the infirmary. A child of Apollo, obvious by his sparkling blue eyes and blonde hair, meet him at the doors, and helped to carry Travis the rest of the way. The infirmary was abuzz with activity, with children of Apollo rushing everywhere for supplies. In one bed he could vaguely make out Connor being held down forcibly as he was treated for his injuries. In the centre of the room was Chiron, the immortal centaur trainer of Demigods. He was standing resolutely in the chaos, and his warm brown eyes immediately tracked their progress.
"Over here, Luke, set him down gently." Chiron commanded, gesturing towards an empty bed.
After laying Travis on the bed, Luke was pushed away. Apollo's children crowding around with Nectar, and Ambrosia, the food and drink of the Gods. Luke used the opportunity to slip away, taking one last look at the scene, he had answers to gather. With rushed movements, he hurried to the Hermes Cabin. A few people cried out to him in concern, questioning his blood-soaked form, but he ignored them all.
Thankfully, the Hermes Cabin was empty. Subconsciously he traversed the messy floor, the area looking like a rescue centre for disaster victims rather than a camp cabin and reached his bed which was sectioned away from the rest. A perk of being the cabin counsellor. With disregard for his own belongings, he ripped the bed to the side, causing his collection of mint condition Spider-Man figurines to crash to the ground. Luke placed his palm on one floorboard, identical to the rest. With a soft golden glow, it popped open, revealing a cavity within. Shoving aside a bottle holding an ominous purple liquid, he gripped a shiny golden necklace with a small scythe charm attached.
He almost forgot to close the cavity, before hastily shoving the bed back in place on top of it. Luke went to activate the charm, before realising the lack of privacy his current location gave him. Utilising all the skills he had, he snuck back through camp, this time avoiding anyone that might wish to gain his attention and headed into the woods that surrounded camp. It was within these woods that he had a private location, a little cave that was hard to reach, and even more difficult to notice in the first place as it was hidden within the brambles of large bushes.
Luke's cave was set up for his comfort, though he couldn't really appreciate it right now. A couple bean bags, a desk, a stash of illegally smuggled snacks and drinks, as well as a sleeping bag for when he wanted to camp out.
Finally, he could activate the charm, nervous energy abound as he considered how the conversation would go. It would be his first-time demanding answers, but he had to know. Was this his fault? Or was he lied to?
Minutes passed before the other person answered. A cold chill took over Luke's cave, and he felt like an immense being was looking down upon him. The presence was crushing, and the weight of the gaze was enough for him to reconsider what he was doing. For a moment the feeling lingered, the world at a standstill as all he could do was wait in the power that enveloped him.
A voice broke the silence. Ancient, and wise, but resounding with the force of a million suns. A sibilant quality to it. "I hope you are contacting me with positive news."
Luke quaked for a moment, but then hardened himself with resolve. "Two demigods were attacked outside camp. My brothers. By a pack of hellhounds."
"I fail to see how this involves me." The voice hissed, a hint of warning in the tone.
"Y..you..." Luke stumbled for a moment. "You promised me they wouldn't attack anyone without direct orders. That I was in control."
A slow mocking laugh filled the cave, each second it lasted grew the frustration and rage that was building in Luke's gut.
"You are in control." The voice was amused.
"Then why did they attack?" Luke snapped, finally allowing his anger to show. The presence all around him bared down even harder, almost sending him stumbling to the floor.
"Perhaps..." The voice pondered, the tone no longer amused, "your control is lacking. Perhaps your own lack of competence is to blame. Unable to keep even a single pack of hellhounds in line. Pathetic."
Luke's anger drained out of him instantly. "No! No. It can't be my fault." He denied, unable to accept the possibility.
"I might need to consider a new leader if this is proof of your capabilities." The voice continued as if uninterrupted.
Panic now welled in Luke, and he shook his head repeatedly. With how far he had come, the things he had done. It couldn't be for nothing, not now. "Please." He begged, "Please give me another chance."
The following silence stretched on, Luke feeling nothing but panic and regret.
"We will discuss your insolence later." The voice finally responded, before disappearing entirely.
Luke collapsed to the floor, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. Unbidden, he vomited on the dusty ground in front of him. His rollercoaster of emotions overwhelming him.
"I'm sorry." He whispered with a hoarse voice, not quite sure who he was apologising to. The person he just talked to, the Stoll brothers, the numerous demigods he was failing to protect, or even to himself. "I'm sorry."
Percy followed Chrysaor carefully through the camp, trying not to gawk too obviously at the dolphin men that were going about their business.
"They're my crew." His brother grunted to him as they strode towards a tent that was larger than the rest, and in a gleaming gold colour that matched Chrysaor's own armour.
"Theodulos." Chrysaor barked out as they neared the tent, startling Percy with the sudden loud noise. One of the dolphin people quickly made his way over to them. He was larger than the rest, with a majority black colour though with a few white spots, and a fearsome scar that shot down across one flank. His dorsal fin was slightly curved.
Without a word, they entered the tent, and Percy was amazed at the contrasting amounts of splendour and simplicity. A hammock hung on one side, and a plain scratched up wooden desk sat in the middle filled with paperwork that had been scattered messily. Golden and silver coins as big as Percy's palm had spilled across the dirty floor originating from a wooden chest that was overfilled with treasure. Various other items of jewellery, precious gems, and even intricate pottery also laid haphazardly around. What caught Percy's attention the most was a mannequin that had another set of golden Greek armour upon it, far more intricate than the plain one Chrysaor was currently wearing. The bulk of the armour had a wave type pattern that rippled across the gold making it almost seem in motion, and the helmet was terrifying with a monster visage, and serpents cascading down the back of it.
"Watch your step." Chrysaor warned just as Percy stumbled over a fist-sized emerald. "Plunder from our latest venture."
Eventually they all managed to settle around the desk in what Percy recognised as old, repurposed fishing chairs.
"Updates?" His brother questioned after a moment, and Theodulos answered with a series of whistles that Percy found he could understand somehow.
"A few Dracaenas that were easily dealt with, but we also found some Hellhound tracks that led towards the Demigod Camp, Captain."
Chrysaor's fingers tapped against the desk steadily, but Percy couldn't help but interject. "Dracaena?"
"Snake women essentially." Chrysaor answered absentmindedly. "Not a big threat, though unusual for these parts."
Percy supposed he would just have to get used to the idea of snake women being a thing, though he struggled to picture what they looked like. He supposed they must have a forked tongue at the very least.
"Travel time?" Chrysaor finally spoke once more.
"Four hours to camp, three to Sag Harbour."
"Damn!" The golden-armoured man swore loudly.
"What's wrong?" Percy asked alarmed at the sudden frustration. "That's not that far."
"The problem, Bucko, is sunset is around three hours away."
Percy was still confused at why that was such a bad thing. So, they might have to walk a little bit in the dark, that couldn't be so bad? Judging by Theodulos' grim demeanour, it was a lot worse than he thought.
Chrysaor snorted, shaking his head with little amusement. "Remember who I said was hunting you, Lad. Someone that would get a lot more powerful with the rise of the moon.
"Oh." Was all Percy could say dumbly as he came to the full realisation of why they were so concerned.
"Yes. Oh." Chrysaor muttered. "We might possibly make it to my ship in Sag Harbour, but to meet the Hunt on the chase..."
Silence permeated the air for a moment. Percy didn't know what the others were thinking, but he was definitely imagining all the various scenarios of himself being killed by some gigantic powerful woman that glowed silver like the moon.
"We could bring a spring upon her cable." Theodolus spoke up. "The crew travel to the ship drawing their attention, whilst you take the boy back to Hampton Bays, commandeer a vessel and travel from there."
"I won't sacrifice you." Chrysaor snapped quickly. "Prepare fortifications. We'll meet them here, and fight them off, before continuing in the morning. Better to fight in a defensible position than be caught unaware on the move."
Theodulos clearly wanted to argue but departed hurriedly at a stern glance from his captain.
"Can we really fight them?" Percy asked.
Chrysaor didn't answer for a moment, before standing abruptly. "Let's teach you how to swing a blade, you're going to need it."
Percy eagerly followed his brother. He was a little upset at not being answered, but the excitement of getting to swing a sword more than overcame that feeling. Already the crew were starting to chop down trees to use for their walls under the gruff commands of Theodulos, his whistles piercing loudly through the clearing. Chrysaor led them to a blank space nearby one of the campfires, before staring at Percy with expecting eyes. Nervously, he shifted under the gaze of his older brother.
Chrysaor sighed once more, "Well. Get out your blade."
Percy unconsciously patted down upon his hips, almost wondering if he had forgotten that he owned a sword or something, but that would be ridiculous.
"I don't have one?" He questioned uncertainly.
"What's in your pocket then lad?"
With careful hands, Percy reached into his pocket and with a gleaming gold pen with the word Anaklusmos printed on the side. He had forgotten that Mr. Brunner had gifted him it.
Turning it softly in his hand, he answered "A pen?"
He wondered briefly if this was going to be one of those really cliche moments where someone claimed that the pen was mightier than the sword or some such nonsense. Percy could see Chrysaor roll his eyes, before reaching over to flick the cap off Percy's pen. Immediately the pen transformed, elongating into a three-foot bronze sword.
"Woah..." He muttered. Strangely, it didn't feel heavy. The leather grip seemed to fit perfectly within his hand, and he couldn't help but give it a few test swings. The blade slicing easily through the air with a slight whooshing sound. Chrysaor allowed him a moment to get used to the sword within his hands, before clearing his throat, and gesturing to Percy's sword.
"Now, what is the first rule of sword-fighting?"
"Don't stab yourself?" Percy asked.
"Ha. No, that's common sense." Chrysaor laughed cheerfully, "Try again."
Percy swung the sword a couple more times pretending he was fighting some imaginary monster. "Stab them with the pointy end?"
"Definitely not. There are many situations where hitting them with the pommel is more useful." His brother advised. "Third times the charm."
He tried to think really hard about what the first rule would be, but he couldn't come up with anything. Perhaps this was going to be a philosophical lesson about knowing when to pull out a sword, but that didn't really seem like his brothers type of thing.
"Don't talk about sword-fighting." Percy finally answered sarcastically, giving up on the question.
Chrysaor shook his head in disappointment, before quick as a flash he had his own sword unsheathed. Within another moment it had slapped, flat-sided, onto Percy's calf bringing him crashing to the ground, and the blade was millimetres away from Percy's throat. Percy let out a gasp of pain, and forced himself to remain stock-still as he held in the urge to clutch his throbbing leg. The golden blade pointed at him dominated his eyesight, but he could see the eyes identical to his own glaring down at him with deadly seriousness.
"There are no rules in sword-fighting. You fight to survive; you fight to win. Use every single trick at your disposal, and cheat at all costs. In this world you either survive or you die. Do not allow honour to kill you."
The atmosphere at the Hunter's Camp was tense, and Artemis absolutely hated it. Their camp shouldn't be like this. It should be fun, light-hearted. A sisterhood that was filled with joy and contentedness. Instead, her hunters were eyeing their surroundings with wariness, with a few even scowling at each other. Her announcement of their dispute against the Kingdom of Atlantis hadn't gone down well.
A few of her hunters, led by Phoebe, Daughter of Ares, were of the opinion it didn't much matter. That it was just another whiney God throwing his weight around, and that they had a job to do. Some others were of the opinion that this was a disaster, and that they had now become the hunted. They had pleaded for her to return the mortal, and to try and distance themselves from the war. Most painfully was Maya, the daughter of a Naiad, who feared that she would never be able to visit her family again. Though Naiad's didn't directly serve Poseidon as they were freshwater beings, their worship was almost as great as his subjects, and none would wish to break his rulings. Maya had broken down in tears, and had eventually fallen asleep in her tent, although her sobs still seemed to echo in their ears.
Lastly were the ones that concerned Artemis the most, led by her loyal lieutenant, Zoe. They were ashamed of abducting the woman, Sally Jackson, and felt it went against their core believes. They also felt betrayed, wondering if Artemis had lost faith in their capabilities. Overall, they were committed to their task of capturing the demigod, but were vocal in the disappointment of her methods.
Artemis understood their feelings, she truly did. Even she, herself, felt a deep sense of disgust at using such underhanded tactics in a hunt, but she had to remain strong. They didn't understand the situation they were in. The punishment for failure by Zeus would be great, perhaps more than her hunters could handle, at least in success they would be protect by the might of the Olympian. Unfortunately, to be successful they had to capture the boy, and none of her hunters had seen what she had. The rage in his piercing green eyes, the miasma of power that no demigod should have, and force of the earthquake he had generated. Artemis had full faith in the abilities of each and every one of her hunters, but there were some beings they couldn't handle. So few of them had powers outside of her blessing, and most of them were more subtle in their application. None of which would help much if the very ground they stood on shook with the power she felt. Not to mention any other abilities a Son of Poseidon might have. Hydrokinesis would be a given, but how strong would be debatable. Had the boy mastered using the moisture in the air yet? Or healing of wounds with naught but a bottle of water? Did he have power over storms as well? Artemis shuddered as she remembered the last Son of Poseidon that had summoned a hurricane condensed around himself in an area of twenty feet. The squad of enemy demigods had stood no chance. Poseidon's powers were vast, and fearsome, in equal measures. Thankfully, so few of his children inherited many of his powers beyond minor hydrokinesis. This one was different; she had already seen that.
After tracking the boy down, and observing him through the city, she had been no closer to working out a way to capture the boy. As a trained demigod there would be no way he would be foolish enough to challenge her, which meant the fight would be all on her hunters. A fight they would not win, she was sure. The suddenly appearing Chrysaor only confirmed that. She had allowed herself to curse softly in a moment of rare profanity when he had arrived. He was not a particularly powerful Son of Poseidon, but his swordmanship was almost unmatched, and he was as wily as any foe. Through trickery and deception, he had won many fights throughout history, and he wasn't short on cruelty towards his enemies either. His crew were also well drilled and were sure to not be far away.
With that her eyes had been drawn to the boy's mother, one that he clearly had a close relationship with. Loathe as she was to resort to such a dirty tactic, and to potentially harm an innocent woman, it had become clear to her that through the mortal she might find the salvation of the hunters. Artemis would do nearly anything to protect them from harm, even if it went against some of her core believes. Even if it meant having Zoe staring at her with those judgemental black eyes with disappoint gleaming in their depths. Even if it meant hearing Maya cry as if part of her own soul had been torn from her. This was the difficulties of being a leader.
"Zoe." She called out softly, and even though it was quiet the whole camp stilled to look at her. "Prepare the Hunt, we leave upon my return."
Her lieutenant gave and stiff nod, and Artemis flashed away. She reappeared at the base of Bearfence Mountain in the Shenandoah National Park. Gratefully she took in a deep breath of the fresh natural air away from the stiffness of her campsite. Artemis took a moment to appreciate the view, before turning and making her way to a cave that was hidden within the foliage. It was a personal space for her, a way for her to get away from the troubles of the world, and was only known by herself, and Apollo. It was difficult to hide things from her brother after all with his domains of prophecy, truth, and the sun. Not much could hide from his gaze, but she trusted that he would never invade her area, for as annoying as he could be, he did respect her privacy.
Within the cave were simple amenities. A bed made of soft animal furs, a desk with some writing utensils, a couple bookshelves filled with books, and a small area that had some cooking supplies and a magical campfire for cooking even within a cave.
"Lady Artemis." A voice yelped, and Artemis watched as Sally Jackson jumped from the furs to a standing position upon her arrival. It pained Artemis to see the wariness in the woman's blue eyes, and the stress lining her face.
"I have come to see if you are settling in well." Artemis declared, briefly glancing around to see if everything was as she remembered it to be.
"I have." Sally answered shortly. "Thank you."
Artemis could see how much effort it was taking for the mortal to remain polite, and straight-faced. Usually, she would be offended, but under the circumstances she could understand the difficulties.
"The cave should provide you with everything you need to keep comfortable. If, however, you have any need, simply pray to me and I shall answer. Hopefully your stay here will be short."
"Hopefully." Sally muttered, but Artemis graciously pretended not to hear it.
"If that is all." Artemis turned to walk away, but halfway out Sally's voice stopped her.
"Lady Artemis." She turned to face the woman, seeing the desperation clear in her eyes. "My son, he's innocent. I swear, he's just a boy. He didn't even know about any of this. Please don't hurt him."
Artemis scowled. That boy was definitely not innocent, and his actions had already proven he knew of this world. Her countenance softened however looking at the woman. She was just a mother pleading for her child's safety, and Artemis could not be angry at that.
"I'm sorry, The Hunt has begun." Without another word she left, hardening her heart to the woman's pleas for her to stop. She just had to capture the boy before the Summer Solstice, then her hunters would be safe, and they could all move on from this regrettable situation.
Apollo slumped over in despair; his head drooped into the palms of his hands. Even in this place where some of his happiness moments in life had occurred, he couldn't find himself able of thinking positively. He was hurt, he was afraid, and he was confused. He had wanted to try so hard to protect his little sister, but she just wouldn't allow him to. Usually, he secretly admired her for her independence and bravery, but not this time. Apollo didn't know what he could have done, but at least he would have been there, taken some of the wrath she faced and directed it his way or something. For months now he had had such a foreboding feeling that had sunk deep into him, and he knew it would involve her. Carefully, he had watched over her and her hunters every day, monitoring for anything to go wrong. The day his father gave the order to hunt children of the Big Three, he knew it was the moment he had been dreading. Yet he still couldn't protect her. He was useless. A failure of a brother.
Now she had gone and done something as ridiculous as kidnapping a mortal lover of Poseidon. He couldn't believe it. Why would she do such a thing? It went against what she fundamentally stood for. Apollo shuddered as he remembered Poseidon's rage. The maelstrom of power as his fury shook the Earth. All directed at his little sister.
"Are you going to keep moping or tell me what's wrong?" A soft musical voice questioned, and Apollo glanced up to see a woman had joined him upon the sandy beach. Her golden hair shining brightly in the sunlight, and light blue eyes glimmering with worry.
"Artemis." He muttered. "She's in trouble, and I don't know how to help."
The woman took in a sharp breath of air. "Tell me everything."
Apollo explained his sister's original orders, her refusal of his help, her actions, and the rage of the Sea God. "I fear for her. She could lose everything. Or worse, she could lose herself. The Artemis I know wouldn't kidnap a woman to force her target to surrender. She has to know something I don't, but she's shutting me out. I just..." He trailed off for a moment. "Poseidon is too strong, and his rage too great. He has to be placated. If only the mortal was returned. Or his son proven innocent. I don't know. Something needs to be done."
Carefully, the woman brought Apollo into a hug, stroking his hair softly and humming a melody. Gradually he felt his despair lessen, but his conflicted feelings remained.
"Do you believe Poseidon and his son to be innocent?" She finally asked.
Apollo answered immediately, having already thought about it extensively. "Yes. This would not be his style, and he would have tested the waters with alliances first before making such a big move anyway."
"Do you also believe that proving his innocence, and returning the woman, would save Artemis?" She followed up.
"Yes." Apollo nodded firmly.
"Then I believe you know what needs to be done, my son." Leto whispered, tightening the hug around him.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone, hopefully I can start to update again regularly. I have gone back and edited the last 5 chapters. I haven't edited this one yet, so sorry for any mistakes. I wasn't completely happy with parts of this chapter, but it's how it turned out. We get Luke and an update on the Stolls conditions. I have big plans for them. We have more Percy/Chrysaor, and a brief sword lesson, very different from his first in the books. Then an update on the situation with the Hunters of Artemis and Sally Jackson. Lastly, a surprise Apollo pov.
I haven't conclusively decided yet, but next chapter I'm thinking we should get a Percy Pov, an Artemis Pov, an Annabeth pov, and maybe an update on Bianca and Nico.
Remember to read, review, and subscribe.