A/N: Hello! Welcome to the second fic in my Reparation Trilogy. If you found this before reading Walk With the Shadows, I encourage you to read that first! These fics are primarily OC focused. Rick Riordan's characters do feature, but as supporting cast. These include: Jason Grace, Thalia Grace, Clarisse La Rue, Will Solace, and Connor and Travis Stoll. I hope you enjoy this new adventure spanning the time between the end of The Lost Hero and The Son of Neptune!
BY INFERNO'S LIGHT
sequel to Walk With the Shadows
by Silmarilz1701
Warnings: due to some sections of this fic dealing with the "child soldier" part of the Percy Jackson books, there is copious non gratuitous descriptions of wounded children. More than anything, this fic takes great care in accurately and tastefully portraying PTSD. The author takes this very seriously. In addition, there are some mild psychological horror elements including night terrors and occasional hallucinations. None of these warnings are severe enough to require an M rating.
All fics are crossposted under the same username to Archive of Our Own and Wattpad. For fan art/commissions, see juliannetoinette on tumblr.
Debt (Noun)
a state of being under obligation
to pay or repay someone or something
in return for something received
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary
Chapter One | Alex Griffith
ALEX KNEW OF ONE SURE FIRE WAY not to have nightmares, and that was to not sleep.
The gnarled bark of Thalia's Tree dug into his back as he stared out over Long Island, as far away from Camp Half-Blood as he could see. That wasn't far. The sun had only just begun to rise, spilling pale gold over the darkness. His body ached from disuse. Despite taking over guard duty that night from Peleus, he hadn't worn any armor. The tree bark and frost all but ignored his orange camp shirt and brown jacket.
Kitty called him crazy. Connor and Travis agreed with her. But Alex didn't care about that. As often as he could, he gave Peleus the Dragon the night off so he could keep a silent vigil. He hadn't seen Ophelia in months. But she'd be back someday, and Alex hoped to greet her here, in the same place she had first shadow-traveled away seven months ago.
A burning pain spread out from his right abdomen at the memory. Alex placed a hand over the part of his shirt that hid black, web-like tendrils of necromantic healing. He felt nothing. Alex took a shaky breath. Ophelia had saved his life. But it had cost them both dearly.
It had cost them each other.
Despite the anxiety that often plagued him when he thought about Eris, his losing duel with the goddess of discord didn't keep him up at night. He didn't see her serial-killer smile when he closed his eyes.
No. Alex saw something else that reeked of the Underworld. He'd tried to dismiss it as stress at first. But the fear and blackness that haunted his recurring nightmares reminded him far too much of what he'd experienced on his quest for the Lyre of Orpheus.
It always started with ravens. They circled far above him in a grayscale sky, croaking our calls that sounded almost like deranged human laughter. Then a deep cold would set in. It penetrated his skin, freezing his bones until all warmth left him. All the leafless trees would sway and groan, their branches black against the sky.
In the nightmare, Alex would wander for hours. He saw no one else but the black birds which would swoop down to follow each step he took as if waiting for him to falter. Then, at last, he would come to the bank of a dark blue lake. Shallow waves lapped at his feet. And there, in the edges of the water, he always found it: a grand bow of celestial bronze and platinum and a quiver of arrows, each with arrowheads seeping a dark red poison like blood from a wound that never healed.
Every nightmare ended as it began: with ravens. Whenever he reached down to examine the waterlogged bow, one would break off from the group circling in the sky. Alex would race to nock an arrow before the bird reached him. He always failed. Alex woke drenched in sweat as the raven clawed his face, grasping for Vindication around his wrist for some small comfort.
He never had the caduceus in his nightmare. As Alex watched the sun climb higher in the sky from his uncomfortable post atop Half-Blood Hill, he ran his finger over the celestial bronze bracelet. He never took it off. Ever since the gods had sealed off Olympus, apparently for good, he'd clung to it.
For several months, he'd tried to hold camp together while Percy Jackson had been missing in action. Then the arrival of Jason Grace, apparently a son of Zeus—of Jupiter—because apparently one set of the Greco-Roman gods wasn't enough, had at least offered an explanation for Percy's disappearance. Jason and Chiron had told the camp counselors about Camp Jupiter: the Roman equivalent of CHB. Everyone's best guess was that Percy had been sent there by Hera just as Jason had been sent to Camp Half-Blood.
With that, Annabeth and the others had calmed a bit. At least they had a plan: rebuild Festus the dragon so that she could lead Jason, Leo, and Piper to find Camp Jupiter. But with Percy's disappearance out of his hands, Alex had to turn his mind to other, even more pressing matters: monsters multiplied, and the very Earth herself wanted them dead. Gaea thirsted for demigod blood.
Alex stood off the ground, groaning at the way the early morning April chill tensed his muscles. But his anxiety had skyrocketed thinking about everything: Ophelia's disappearance, his recurring nightmare, Gaea's return.
Some days, when he felt really anxious, he found himself wondering if Ophelia had something to do with Gaea opening the doors of death. After all, she'd been the one so hell bent on controlling the destinies of the living and the dead. But he dismissed those fears as irrational.
They had to be irrational.
Alex looked up at the sound of beating wings. He grabbed for Vindication, panic tearing through his body like an electric shock. But he saw only a single pair of golden wings. Dragon wings, not raven wings. Alex tried to laugh as he settled his breath.
When Peleus resumed his post around Thalia's Tree and the Golden Fleece, Alex started down the hill back into camp. He had a training session with Clarisse to get to. If he'd been told a year ago that he'd be spending three days a week sparring with Clarisse before breakfast, he'd have laughed. And yet, here they were.
Alex saw very few people as he wandered across camp to the arena. A couple of Apollo's children were doing sunrise yoga. Miranda Gardener looked to be doing a bit of gardening. But other than that, camp stayed quiet.
Clarisse already had on some old leather armor when he walked into the arena. She assaulted a training dummy with her electric spear, barely breaking a sweat. Some campers called it Lamer Jr. behind her back. But Alex had the utmost respect for the fighting prowess of Clarisse and her newest version of Maimer. He'd felt the bite of that weapon numerous times.
Chiron and Will Solace chided them for training with their actual weapons. But neither Vindication nor Maimer, as magical weapons, dulled with use and Alex agreed with Clarisse's outspoken opinion that the threat of injury kept them on their toes. War always loomed on the horizon these days. They couldn't afford complacency.
Vindication morphed into a bow. Celestial bronze feathers sparkled into golden, early morning sunlight. With a quick whistle, he took aim at Clarisse. She spun with ample time to swat the arrow to the side.
"You're late, golden boy," Clarisse said. She adjusted her grip on her electric spear. "Getting tired?"
Alex scoffed. He just shook his head, though a yawn threatened to betray him. "If you want an excuse to relax Clarisse, just say so."
She didn't dignify the taunt with a response. Some days, Alex felt like she was one of the only people to take the threat of Camp Jupiter seriously. If Annabeth didn't have her mind occupied by Percy's disappearance, perhaps she would've joined them. Not that Alex blamed her; some days he wanted nothing more than to run off in search of his girlfriend. But where Annabeth turned her attention to hyperfocusing on what ifs and library books, Clarisse shared his outlet for stress: hitting things.
Alex dodged her first few attacks. Training with Clarisse helped him with more than just maintaining his form. It had helped him recover mentally from his quest. He no longer saw flashes of Nike's son Cole when he fled from a spear point.
He parried twice. But before he could close the distance, Clarisse used a quick slash to regain her position, spearhead perfectly placed to defend her face and neck. Alex barely dodged a long thrust to the face.
Dirt and gravel sprayed up as he scrambled away. If he wasn't so partial to Vindication, some days he was tempted to take up the spear. He backed away to catch his breath
"Had enough?"
"What, getting tired Clarisse?"
She snarled. Cheeks red and sweat across her brow, Clarisse closed the distance again. Alex dodged as much as he could. Still, he didn't come out of the fight unscathed. She'd sliced through a good portion of his upper arm when he hadn't completely dodged one the spear thrusts. Then again, he'd managed a slice on her thigh with his sword.
They broke for water a little while before the camp would meet for breakfast. Alex held a bandage against his arm as he walked over to his water bottle on the side.
"You're getting better," Clarisse said, "for a Hermes boy."
Alex let out a short laugh. "You're dating a Hermes boy."
Clarisse just rolled her eyes and downed a huge gulp of her water. But though he'd never admit it, praise from Clarisse meant a lot. She didn't praise many people. It meant he must be doing something right, and after barely surviving his encounter with Cole, he couldn't afford to not get better against spears.
"We better go see Will before breakfast," Alex said. The blood seeping from his arm had only just begun to slow.
They walked next to each other, both equally drenched in sweat, across camp to the mess hall. Very few people looked at them in surprise. Alex almost laughed. Guess they'd made this walk of shame to Will a few too many times for it to surprise anyone.
"Morning, Will," Alex said, catching sight of the younger blond boy as he left his cabin.
But he just crossed his arms over his chest, looking far older than he was in his disappointment. Will sighed. "How many times do I have to say that you shouldn't train with sharp weapons."
Alex let out a sheepish laugh. "Sorry."
"No you're not," Will said.
Nevertheless, he healed them both. Alex had to hand it to him, the boy never shirked his responsibilities as the best healer in camp even when faced with irresponsible wounded like himself and Clarisse. They'd all been through too much. That thought almost made him feel guilty.
Almost. The guilt went away as soon as he laid eyes on Jason Grace. He trusted Jason as much as he trusted anyone he didn't consider a close friend, but he sure as hell didn't trust where the kid came from. The pit in his stomach deepened at the thought of another camp of demigods with a long history of hating the Greeks. The last thing Camp Half-Blood needed was another bloody war.