Hello, quick little note. To my friend who is trying to help me, I appreciate the feedback. I really do. I would like to tell you that I've already wrote the entire story already, which is why I'm already updating again just to talk to you. I did notice what you were saying and I think it gets better as the chapters go on. I'm sorry and I don't believe as time goes on I'll get better as a writer, so that the interactions are more meaningful. Again thank you for the feedback.

Also sorry for the obsidian eyes descriptors. Haha

Chapter 9

I May Be Hungry, But I Didn't Mean to Eat That

When she awoke later, she found herself in a new arrangement – Percy's arms enveloped her from behind, her head resting on a pillow. Smiling at the closeness, she shifted to face him, earning a groan of protest as her movement disrupted his slumber.

Without a word, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly.

As they parted, their breaths slightly labored, Reyna's gaze remained locked on Percy's. An electric tension hung in the air, a palpable charge that seemed to envelop them. In her chest, Reyna felt something between them, although she was unsure exactly what.

"Percy..." Her whisper was soft, carrying a weight of emotion that words could scarcely convey. His response was a warm smile, and he leaned in to press a gentle kiss against her hair. No further words were needed as they basked in the silent understanding that enveloped them.

In a matter of minutes, the camp was dismantled, their preparations for the day complete. When Percy inquired about the night watch rotation, Thalia and Phoebe indicated their plans. The two of them would take turns – one night for Thalia and Phoebe, followed by Percy and Reyna the next, getting a full night of sleep would help Percy and Reyna immensely.

As they resumed their journey through Canada, Percy's attention was drawn to an unexpected shift in Thalia's demeanor. Her interactions with him deviated from her usual abrasive and light-hearted approach, her demeanor now rigid and chilly. An unspoken tension seemed to shroud her, leaving Percy baffled as to what might have caused this.

Moving away from Reyna's side, Percy hastened his pace to catch up with Thalia. Phoebe, who had been surprisingly warmer in her interactions with him compared to other males, offered a nod before falling back to join Reyna. The conversations between the two women held a certain mystery, leaving Percy intrigued by what the two of them could talk about.

"Thalia," he called out, trying to get her attention. However, her reaction was far from welcoming. She turned to face him, her expression a scowl that caused him to shift in surprise. A sudden surge of electricity crackled around her hands, a clear manifestation of her annoyance. "What's your problem?" His words held a genuine curiosity, his confusion mounting as he tried to understand her attitude.

"How could you?" Thalia's words cut through the air, her tone charged with a mixture of anger and betrayal. Percy's brows furrowed, his mind racing to comprehend her accusation, he honestly had no idea what she was talking about. "Annabeth," she hissed, her gaze locking onto him with a searing intensity.

The mention of Annabeth's name sent a wave of emotion crashing over Percy. His sea-green eyes glistened with sorrow. The void left by Annabeth's absence was something he carried with him always, a deep wound that time had yet to heal. He reminisced about her, her blonde hair, her gray eyes, and the countless moments together, and that he would never see her again.

"Percy." Thalia's voice broke through his reverie, her touch on his arm grounding him in the present. Concern etched her features as she noticed his distant demeanor. "You started breathing heavily. Are you okay?" she inquired, her worry genuine.

His response was a wordless nod, his mind awash with thoughts of both Annabeth and Reyna. He felt torn between the love he held for Annabeth and the burgeoning feelings he harbored for Reyna. They were distinct, each a unique connection that carried its own significance. He had no idea how to reconcile the two with one another.

"I'm fine," he murmured, his voice catching as he shared a glimpse of his emotions with Thalia. "I loved Annabeth with everything I have. She was my everything." His words were laden with a heavy melancholy as he paused. His thoughts were punctuated by the sight of an elk bursting through the woods ahead of them, a fleeting reminder of the world's natural beauty.

"She's gone, and I never got a chance to say goodbye," he confessed, the pain evident in his voice. He grappled with the uncertainties of the afterlife, a hope that Annabeth had found peace in death, hopefully Elysium, but still, an ache that he hadn't been able to bid her farewell properly. Did Elysium still even exist? As he pondered his own emotions, he found himself comparing Annabeth to Reyna, each woman representing something unique and irreplaceable in his life, but they weren't comparable and doing so would be an insult to them both.

"Percy," Thalia's voice brought him back from his thoughts, her concern still etched on her face. "You should talk to Reyna about everything. Explain, and go from there. From my perspective, it seems like you haven't even had a chance to fully get over Annabeth..."

His retort was cold and direct, a reflection of his inner turmoil. "I'll never get over her, Thalia," he admitted, the rawness of his emotions laid bare. "I'll always love her." A melancholic sadness lingered in his tone, as he grappled with the complexity of his feelings. "But this world is even more dangerous than the one we grew up in, we could die at any moment." He paused for a brief moment. "Reyna makes me happy." His words carried a vulnerability that surprised even him, a testament to what he felt for Reyna.

"Maybe that's enough," Thalia acknowledged, her voice gentle in its understanding. "But you should still tell her."

"You're right," Percy conceded, his resolve firming. With an affectionate gesture, he slung his arm around Thalia, Percy felt comfortable with the daughter of Zeus, he had missed her a lot. They continued their walk, enveloped in a comfortable silence, while Reyna and Phoebe conversed behind them.

As the sun sank below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, the group settled down to set up camp once again. The routines of survival kicked in – the unpacking of equipment, the arrangement of sleeping spaces, and the unspoken understanding of roles. This time, Reyna took charge of the first watch, which slightly relieved Percy, he needed to think about the conversation between the two of them. Percy, however, found himself unable to shake off the turmoil that had been gnawing at him. While he lay on his bed, his gaze was fixed on the tent's ceiling, his mind churning with how he could possibly approach the daughter of Bellona, and what exactly he needed to tell her.

Contemplation gave way to determination as Percy swung his legs over the side of his bed, a resolute look in his sea-green eyes. He needed to tell Reyna everything, and hopefully, together they could work out whatever was happening between the two of them. To keep going the way they were, without telling her, would merely be insulting. Pushing himself up, he exited the tent, the cool night air embracing him as his thoughts swirled.

However, his intention to confront the situation head-on was swiftly interrupted by an unexpected cry that pierced the night air – a cry that sent his heart racing. The voice belonged to Reyna, and it carried a note of urgency, of danger. Before Percy could process the meaning behind the cry, an intense tingling sensation pricked at his senses, a warning that he was in imminent danger.

In the span of a heartbeat, Percy found himself face-to-face with an assailant, a fist slamming into his cheek with shocking force. The impact robbed him of breath, his legs buckling beneath him as his vision blurred with dark spots. Struggling to regain his balance, he felt another blow, this time a foot connecting with his side, sending him crashing to the ground. His grunts of pain mingled with the sensation of repeated kicks, a brutal onslaught that he fought to withstand.

Summoning all his strength, Percy pushed through the pain, his determination fierce as he forced himself to stay conscious. As hands gripped him, dragging him across the ground, the world a hazy swirl around him, he felt the bite of rough rope winding around his wrists, binding them together with an unforgiving tightness.

Growling low in his throat, he fought to focus his gaze, to pierce through the haze that clouded his vision. And what he saw ignited a blazing inferno of anger within him. Phoebe, defiant and fierce even in the face of danger, was pinned down, a golden sword at her throat. Her bruised face and bloodied side were a testament to how serious their attackers were. Thalia lay motionless nearby, a deep cut marring her forehead, hopefully she was just unconscious. An ominous figure stood menacingly beside her, triggering an almost primal urge within Percy to lash out. Arion, their loyal companion, was absent, presumably off in search of food.

But the sight that churned Percy's fury into an all-consuming rage was Reyna – pinned down by a pair of men with a third, lecherous figure leering over her. The protective instincts within Percy surged, his chest burning with an overpowering need to defend his friends.

Amid the chaos, he felt a sharp sting, a lesser blow than the others, and his eyes met those of a scrawny man with short blonde hair and a sickly complexion. Blue eyes that sparkled with amusement met Percy's defiant glare. His arms were held fast by an iron grip, his every movement restricted as he was forced to lock eyes with the man before him.

"Octavian," Reyna's voice, dripping with scorn, pierced the tumultuous scene. "You wretched bastard, let us go," she commanded, her unwavering gaze fixed on the figure before her.

In a chilling voice laced with malice, Octavian's words dripped with sadistic pleasure. "Oh, how many times I have dreamed of shutting you up, Reyna," he hissed, the curve of his lips twisted into a cruel smile. Reyna's fierce glare bore into him from her restrained position, her defiance refusing to waver even in the face of danger. Octavian, unperturbed by her anger, turned his attention away from her, his sinister focus shifting once again to Percy. Percy, in that moment, found himself perplexed between Octavian's frail appearance and the authority he commanded over the brutish demigods that encircled them.

The words that tumbled from Percy's lips were steeped in both indignation and urgency. "Let us go," he snapped, his impatience mirroring the anger that simmered beneath the surface. Octavian met his demand with an arched eyebrow, a cynical expression playing on his features.

"Oh, but that's not in the cards, son of Neptune," Octavian responded, his tone dripping with smug self-assuredness. Percy's heart dropped at Octavian somehow knowing his birth parent, it was weird. "We're here to take everything you have. And as for the delightful young ladies accompanying you," he leered, casting a pointed look toward Phoebe, Thalia and Reyna, "well, we've got special plans for them. Especially our former Praetor Reyna. I'm well aware of the... affection many at New Rome held for her." His unsettling grin only deepened, and Percy's blood boiled at the casual and degrading way in which Octavian spoke of their intentions.

With a sudden and shocking movement, Octavian reached out, his cold fingers closing around Percy's cheeks with a grip that sent a jolt of pain through him. Percy's teeth clenched, his frustration mounting as he stared defiantly into Octavian's unsettlingly calm gaze. The implication of Octavian's intentions gnawed at Percy's consciousness, the violation, the violence that was being plotted against those he cared for.

Percy's voice, though tinged with anger, carried a note of disbelief. "Why?" he demanded, his words a growl of frustration and confusion. "Demigods should be working together, not killing each other." The plea in Percy's words mingled with the echoes of Reyna's attempts to reason with their captors, he was barely aware of Reyna saying their names. She was clearly familiar with them all, it made it all the more sickening for Percy.

Octavian's chuckle rippled through the charged atmosphere, his amusement unsettlingly detached from the gravity of the situation. "It's the will of the gods," he proclaimed with unwavering conviction, a self-assured belief in his own distorted vision of fate. Percy's gaze flickered with incredulity, a stark realization taking hold – the depths of Octavian's madness ran far deeper than he had initially thought. How could someone genuinely believe that orchestrating such heinous acts was the divine will, especially in the midst of a world teetering on the brink of collapse?

In the background, amidst the tumultuous exchange, Percy caught fleeting snippets of his friends' voices, Reyna's defiant shouts, Phoebe's fearless threats against them.

"Let's have some fun shall we." Octavian growled. The tension escalated as Octavian's cohorts grew more restless, their violent intentions hanging palpably in the air. In an unsettling turn of events, Percy found himself being roughly shoved towards Octavian, his form held in a vice-like grip.

Amidst the chaotic turmoil, Phoebe's piercing scream reverberated through the air, a sound that acted as a catalyst for Percy's fury to erupt into a blazing inferno. His eyes snapped towards the scene unfolding, his vision marred by the repugnant sight of one of their attackers brazenly seizing hold of Reyna's waist, his intentions unmistakably vile. Percy knew what he was about to do. A surge of unbridled rage coursed through Percy's veins, turning his vision red.

Without a second thought, driven by a primal instinct to protect and fueled by an anger that knew no bounds, Percy's focus shifted like a lightning strike to Octavian. In that chilling moment, Octavian's mocking laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the horrors that were unfolding under his command. As Octavian shoved him away with an unsettling chuckle, Percy's jaw clenched, his determination hardening into a steely resolve.

"What are you going to do?" Octavian taunted, his derisive words a cruel echo that pierced the cacophony around them. Percy's response was swift and brutal, a visceral manifestation of his fury. With a primal snarl, he surged forward, bridging the gap between them with a single-minded determination. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of Octavian's throat, the sickening sensation of flesh giving way beneath his bite igniting a tumult of emotions within him.

Octavian's gurgled cries echoed in Percy's ears, mingling with the coppery scent of blood that filled the air. A spray of crimson splattered across Percy's features, a macabre testament to the gruesome act he had just committed. The cold reality of his actions seemed to settle around him, but amidst the rush of adrenaline and fury, there was little room for introspection, he hardly cared either way.

As Octavian's life force waned, his wide eyes locked onto Percy's with a desperate plea that was drowned out by the gurgling of blood. The fading light in Octavian's gaze bore witness to the life slipping away, his body collapsing to the ground in a sickening thud. Percy's breath was ragged as he spat out the repulsive remnant of Octavian's flesh, the taste of iron and gore lingering in his mouth like an unsettling reminder of the savagery he had just unleashed.

With the immediacy of the situation, Percy's mind surged forward, his actions propelled by an urgency that brooked no delay. His attention snapped to the very bindings that had restrained him, ropes that seemed as insubstantial as mere threads in the face of his newfound determination. As if guided by an otherworldly force, the ropes crumbled to dust beneath Percy's touch, their feeble hold vanquished as if by magic.

Turning towards the scene of horror that had played out before him, Percy's gaze swept over the frozen tableau of his companions and their tormentors. The tension in the air was palpable, a silence that spoke volumes of the shock that had gripped every onlooker. Even Phoebe and Reyna, who had been subjected to the horror of this nightmarish ordeal, stared at Percy with eyes wide and uncomprehending.

Percy's sea-green eyes blazed with a mixture of rage, determination, and a latent power that surged within him. With a motion that was both fluid and commanding, he raised his hands, the very earth beneath him responding to his call. The ground trembled beneath his feet as tendrils of water materialized, their liquid form transforming into shards of ice that gleamed like daggers in the dim light.

The tendrils of ice danced in the air before Percy, like extensions of his will given form. A torrent of power surged through him, a force that defied comprehension, and his grip on the elements around him was undeniable. With a flick of his wrist, the ice projectiles were unleashed, hurtling through the air like a hailstorm of death.

The impact was swift and brutal, the shards of ice finding their mark with chilling accuracy, embedding deeply into the chests of the demigods. The very atmosphere seemed to shatter with each deadly collision, the pained gasps of those affected mingling with the chorus of death that punctuated the night. All the attackers except those surrounding Reyna were cut down, their bodies falling lifeless to the ground in gruesome testimony to Percy's mastery over his abilities.

As the night air bore witness to the gruesome tableau that unfolded, the remaining three demigods sank to their knees in a pitiful display of supplication. Their fervent pleas for mercy reverberated in the tense silence that surrounded them, an agonized chorus that merely annoyed Percy greatly. Yet, Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon, stood unwavering amidst the eerie tapestry of fear and desperation, his mind blank as he continued to unleash death.

The realization of the horrors they had orchestrated and the malevolence they could have inflicted upon countless others had etched a resolve of iron into Percy's gaze. He could not, would not, forgive those that could have caused so much pain and suffering. Vengeance and justice screamed inside of him, and he felt like his mind was snapping, but he knew what he had to do. His fingers closed around the hilt of Riptide, a conduit for his wrath and the embodiment of the rage coursing through his veins.

With a guttural snarl that seemed to emanate from the depths of his very being, Percy unleashed a strike that defied comprehension. The razor-sharp edge of Riptide cut through the night like a streak of divine judgment, cleaving through the air with an almost ethereal grace. In a symphony of violence, the throats of the two demigods who had once pinned Reyna to the ground were brutally slashed open. The gurgled sounds of their last breaths were eerily ephemeral, mere echoes in the void that had swallowed them.

As their lifeless forms crumpled to the ground, the last surviving figure remained, a trembling embodiment of his own impending doom. His whimpering and frantic pleas for mercy clashed against the backdrop of a merciless reality that Percy had come to accept. The demigod's tear-streaked face was a canvas of abject terror, a testament to the very fear he had sought to instill in others.

Yet, in Percy's eyes, there was only the relentless surge of anger and the insatiable desire for retribution. The maelstrom of emotions that had engulfed him gave rise to a fierce craving to inflict pain, to make the demigod suffer as they had intended to make others suffer. With a snarl that bore the weight of countless grievances, Percy's grip on Riptide tightened, his fingers quivering in anticipation.

In a swift and savage movement, Percy snarled with rage as his blade descended with a visceral fury, slicing through the hand the demigod had raised in surrender. The man's agonized scream filled the night, his cries a mournful melody that made Percy want to smile. Blood spurted in a gruesome cadence, staining the earth.

The demigod's body crumpled to the ground, wracked with pain and drowning in his own suffering. Percy's anger-fueled momentum surged as he closed the distance between them, his hand gripping the man's throat with an unrelenting grip.

The demigod's breaths came in desperate gasps, his voice raspy as he begged for his life. But Percy's resolve was unyielding, he would not allow any of them to live, not after what they were about to do. With a surge of primal instinct, he kicked the man to the ground, releasing his grip on the man's throat. Percy thought of what they were about to do to Reyna, and a sickly thought ran through his mind, he deserves to be treated the same.

Percy's left hand reached for the demigod's waist, Riptide resting just above the man's private parts. "This is what you were planning on doing to them?" He snarled with rage. He would make this man suffer in a way he deserved. Percy's entire body trembled with energy and rage. The white hot anger that coursed through him threatened to swallow him whole. A weak voice in his mind said this wasn't justice, just plain cruelty. But his rage fought back, arguing an eye for an eye.

"ANSWER ME." He roared. The demigod trembled, torrents of blood still pouring from his stump, tears poured down his eyes in waves.

"Pl… puh, please…" He begged for mercy.

Percy scowled. He wanted the demigod to say it, to admit to what he was about to do. Percy could feel a darkness enveloping him. But then, as if a lifeline had been thrown into the darkness in his heart, a gentle touch found its way to his wrist and he froze.