Son of Hypnos

by IFan

Clovis, once an ordinary man named David, wakes up in a new reality where he's no longer himself, but Clovis, son of Hypnos. Struggling with confusion over merging memories from his old life and his new one, he finds himself in a cabin filled with demigods at Camp Half-Blood yearning to change his fate. Includes SI(Self Insert), OC, world building, & stronger characters/monsters.

6. Cruel Damnation

Clovis led the group deeper into the woods, his flashlight beam cutting through the thick, oppressive darkness, and casting long shadows over the trees. His boots sank into the soft, muddy earth along the riverbank. Each step was accompanied by the wet squelch of the ground beneath him. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and moss, cool and damp, clinging to their clothes and skin. The muffled sound of the nearby river added an eerie calm to their march, like a quiet hum guiding them through the darkened forest.

Behind them, the glow of New York City painted the distant horizon with a dull, artificial yellow hue. It was the last vestige of civilization, fading with every step. It was a reminder of how far they'd already come, and how much further they had to go. The city, vibrant and alive just hours ago, was now no more than a distant memory, swallowed by the thickening woods. Clovis could feel the weight of the forest around them, growing denser with each step, as though it were alive, closing in.

Grover's breath was steady as he blew a few shaky notes on his reed pipes, though the melody wavered, definitely off-key. He was trying to play the "Find Path" song, a magical tune meant to guide them, but the notes were all wrong, floating unevenly through the trees.

"That's definitely not the 'Find Path' song," Annabeth teased, her voice soft, but brimming with amusement, as she gracefully sidestepped a patch of mud, her movements as fluid as ever.

Grover's ears twitched in embarrassment, and his face flushed. "I'm almost there, I swear! The pipes just need a little tuning!" His frustration was clear, but he pressed on, blowing another hesitant note.

Clovis, suppressing a laugh, glanced at Percy, who was walking a few steps ahead. Despite the flashlight lighting their path, Percy somehow managed to walk straight into a tree head first. He let out a muffled curse as he staggered back, brushing wet moss from his forehead.

The group erupted into laughter, the sound echoing in the forest.

"Really helpful, Grover," Percy grumbled, though a half-smile tugged at his lips. It was hard to stay annoyed when everyone was laughing, even if it was at his expense.

Annabeth chuckled. "Don't blame Grover for your poor navigation, Seaweed Brain."

The laughter faded quickly, leaving behind an uneasy quiet that settled over the group like a heavy fog. The darkness from the trees loomed overhead, their branches intertwining to form a dense canopy that blocked out even the faintest sliver of moonlight.

Clovis felt it first—the familiar weight of something watching them. It pressed down on him, the way a heavy blanket feels in the dead of night, suffocating and unshakable. He tried to chalk it up to lingering memories of their battle with Alecto, the Fury that had nearly overwhelmed them not long ago. The memory of her transformation, the way she had shifted from her lesser form into something far more monstrous, pulsed at the back of his mind.

After a few more paces, Clovis slowed and came to a stop, thinking better safe than sorry. He unhooked his briefcase from his sheath, the group halting behind him, their breaths visible in the cool night air. He rummaged through the enchanted briefcase, and before long Clovis pulled out a small, ornately carved bottle of perfume. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, catching what little light there was. Without a word, he uncorked it, releasing a wave of sweet, sickly fragrance that filled the air.

Annabeth and Grover wrinkled their noses in disgust.

"What is that?" Percy asked, his curiosity cutting through the thick air, seemingly unfazed by the strong scent that made the others wince.

Clovis moved with precision, dabbing the perfume on nearby trees and bushes, spreading it along the trail they had just walked. His movements were quick, practiced. "A little something I bought from the Aphrodite cabin. Daphne—my dryad friend—showed me this trick." he explained casually, as though applying perfume in the middle of a monster-infested forest was the most normal thing in the world. "It's enchanted—blends into the natural environment and masks the demigod scent we're leaving behind, but it won't last long. It'll just be good enough to cover our trail though, and considering we just fought off a Fury..."

"—A fight that probably lit up the monster radar for everything within a hundred miles," Annabeth interrupted, her voice sharp but understanding.

"Exactly," Clovis nodded, securing the bottle back in his pack. "Without this, we might as well be waving a flag that says 'Free Demigod Buffet' to anything with fangs and claws nearby."

Percy raised an eyebrow as he wiped a smear of dirt off his cheek. "Perfume though? You're kidding, right?"

Clovis offered a half-smile, unfazed by Percy's skepticism. "Trust me, you'll be grateful when we don't get ambushed by something with more teeth than brain cells." He glanced at Grover, still fumbling with his pipes and joked. "Though, if Grover's plans to keep leading you into trees and you go feral, we might need something more than perfume to bring you down."

"Hey!" Percy exclaimed, rubbing the spot on his head that he had been continuously hitting on trees.

Grover muttered something under his breath, clearly embarrassed, but he was smiling, too.

As they resumed their trek through the forest, Clovis suddenly paused again, his expression thoughtful as he dug around in his enchanted briefcase. Percy, Annabeth, and Grover exchanged curious glances as he rummaged through the seemingly endless contents.

After a few moments, Clovis pulled out a small vial filled with a vibrant, swirling liquid and handed it to Grover. "Almost forgot," he said, his tone casual. "I know you can't take nectar or ambrosia, so here's a healing potion. It's obviously not as strong, but you've taken a few hits. I want to make sure you're ready for whatever's next."

Grover's eyes widened with gratitude as he accepted the vial, holding it as if it were a rare treasure. "You're a lifesaver, Clovis," he murmured before downing the potion in one swift gulp. Almost instantly, the tension in his face eased, and the relief was clear as his lingering aches and pains began to fade.

Clovis chuckled softly, his hand still hovering over the opening of his briefcase. "I try." He closed it up and clipped it back onto his sheath again, and they continued walking through the woods.

But as they walked, Percy couldn't resist his curiosity. "So... what else have you got stashed in that magic briefcase of yours?" He shot Clovis a grin, clearly expecting something unexpected.

Clovis gave him a sideways glance, his lips twitching with a smirk. "You'd be surprised."

"Try me," Percy shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Clovis stopped mid-step, his eyes glinting mischievously. He reached into the briefcase and, with a theatrical flourish, pulled out what looked like a solid, dark gray ball. It was about the size of a cantaloupe and absurdly heavy-looking for its size.

"What is that?" Annabeth asked, her eyes narrowing as she tilted her head, clearly trying to guess what Clovis had in mind.

Clovis held it up with a knowing grin. "Lead. Just in case we run into a Chimera."

Percy blinked, staring at the dense ball of lead. "A Chimera? You mean the one with the snake for a tail and the lion's head?" He looked at Annabeth for confirmation, and she nodded.

"That's the one," Clovis replied, tossing the ball up lightly before catching it again with a thud. "Lead's toxic to Chimeras. You know, in case we ever run into one and need a quick distraction."

Grover glanced at Clovis, weirdly impressed. "So... you're just carrying around a giant ball of lead... in your briefcase?"

Clovis shrugged, completely nonchalant. "It doesn't weigh me down, if that's what you're worried about, don't know if I mentioned that. I just figured, better safe than sorry."

Percy grinned, his curiosity piqued. "Okay, what else?"

Clovis hesitated for a second before pulling out something even more ridiculous—a massive boombox, almost comically large in comparison to his frame. He set it down with a heavy thunk and gave Percy a pointed look. "This," he said with a straight face, hiding his own amusement, "is for Stymphalian birds. Their weakness is noise, especially loud noise. So... I came prepared."

Annabeth burst out laughing, her usual serious demeanor cracking.

Percy's eyes widened in disbelief "A boombox? You're telling me that thing is going to save us from metal-beaked birds?"

Clovis, wearing a deadpan expression, crossed his arms defensively. "Hey, it's a tactical advantage. Those birds hate loud sounds, and trust me, this thing can blast."

Annabeth was still giggling, her hand covering her mouth. "It's a good idea, but I'm just imagining you standing there in battle, blasting '80s rock at a swarm of deadly birds."

Clovis mock scowled at the teasing, though the glimmer of amusement in his eyes gave him away. "Laugh all you want, but you won't be laughing when those birds scatter at the sound of some well-timed heavy metal."

Percy grinned and nudged Clovis. "I can just see it now—Clovis, DJ Hypno, saving us all with his sick beats."

Clovis finally cracked a smile and shook his head. "You guys can mock it, but when the time comes, you'll be thanking me." He glanced down at the briefcase with a fond look. "I've bought a lot of things for this quest, just in case. Anyway, even if I don't use it now, I'm sure it'll come in handy one day."

Annabeth, still chuckling, walked over and peered into the briefcase. "How much stuff do you even have in there? I know you said it's about the size of half of a shipping container, but this—this is ridiculous."

Clovis grinned and reached inside, pulling out an assortment of random items—everything from a jar of Greek fire to a map of Las Vegas. "What can I say? I like being prepared."

Percy, Annabeth, and Grover all looked at each other before bursting into laughter again.

"Okay, okay," Percy said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "I'll give it to you, Clovis. You're definitely the most prepared demigod I've ever met."

Clovis shrugged with a grin, snapping his briefcase shut. "I aim to please. Now, let's keep moving. Who knows what else we'll run into—and trust me, whatever it is, I've probably got something for it. It's a shame Beckendorf couldn't make me that shotgun though…"

Annabeth's eyes widened, her voice jumping in surprise. "Wait, a shotgun? You asked for a shotgun?"

Percy let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "A shotgun? That would've been awesome."

Grover nodded enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up. "Totally cool. Imagine—just pulling out a shotgun mid-battle!"

Clovis nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but Beckendorf mentioned they're ridiculously expensive because of the celestial bronze bullets. Plus, guns are only effective against weaker monsters—the force of a bullet is fixed compared to say my javelin, after all."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and speaking up. "I mean, he's not wrong. A gun would just be a crutch in the end, don't you think? And celestial bronze bullets? Seriously?"

Percy, however, grinned like a kid in a candy store. "Bah! Come on, Annabeth, that sounds epic. Imagine blasting a monster in the face with celestial bronze shotgun shells!"

Grover, nodding excitedly, chimed in. "Yeah! Boom! No more monsters! It's a shame it's so impractical… I'd still chip in for it though."

Annabeth shook her head in disbelief. "Of course you two think that's a good idea. Do you ever think tactically?"

Percy shot her a cheeky grin. "Tactically? Sure. But sometimes you just need something that goes boom."

Annabeth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as Percy and Grover continued to talk excitedly about the shotgun. "Ugh, boys," she muttered in frustration, shaking her head. "Always thinking about what goes boom instead of the smart way to handle things."

They continued onward, eventually falling into silence, and the tension creeped back into Clovis's mind. His thoughts began to wander, circling back to their recent battle with Alecto. The way she had survived their sneak attack—the way she had transformed into something so much more dangerous. If they hadn't managed to take down two of the Furies beforehand then he dared to say they would have been annihilated in the following fight.

It also brought something to light: those lesser forms of the Furies were weak, only mere shadows of their true selves. The real danger had revealed itself when Alecto had been enraged, and unleashed her full power. That shift from a lesser form to her true monstrous state had been terrifying—a form that made her a hundred times harder to defeat.

He shuddered at the memory. It made him wonder why monsters didn't stay in their stronger forms all the time. It didn't make much sense. Why give them the chance to strike first? But then again, there were rules in this world, rules that Clovis didn't fully understand yet. Maybe it had something to do with the Mist, the Gods, or the way the modern world had forced myths to adapt. Or maybe, the weaker forms were convenient to maintain, less draining.

Whatever the reason, it didn't matter now. What mattered was the next challenge they were about to face.

Medusa.

Clovis's chest tightened at the mere thought of Medusa. She was just like the Furies—but worse in her own way. Ancient, deadly, and brimming power. She fortunately remained in her lesser form, so they might stand a chance at first, but if she transformed into her full Gorgon self, the odds were grim. They had barely scraped by against Alecto, and now, after that brutal fight, they were running on fumes—physically and magically drained.

Their bodies were sore from battle, muscles heavy with fatigue, and their divine energy was slow to recover without true rest, even with the help of ambrosia and nectar. And then there was Percy—without the Hudson River nearby, he couldn't call on his powers the way he had before. There'd be no surge of strength, no last-minute heroics to save the day, no Super Saiyan Mode.

Clovis was certain that a direct confrontation with Medusa was out of the question. Facing a Gorgon while they were this exhausted, this vulnerable, would be a death sentence. Even at their best, taking her on would be near impossible—she was in a fight far beyond Alecto, a completely different scenario.

Clovis sighed, the noise barely more than a breath, lost in the stillness of the forest. His hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his Claymore, but the cool metal offered little comfort. He'd trained hard for this quest, spent a year honing his skills, his strategies. And yet, in the face of a true monster, he felt... small. Insignificant. His strength, his abilities—they weren't enough.

But then, strength wasn't everything. Clovis had always known that. As much as he wished he could confront every challenge head-on, he and his companions weren't there yet. In the meantime though, he had wisdom and cunning on his side. Power wasn't solely about brute force; sometimes, the mind could be a far more formidable weapon than any blade.

Clovis pushed down the growing anxiety, as his mind raced through their options. There was a chance they could bypass Medusa altogether. If luck favored them, they might catch her unaware and slip past without a fight. Alternatively, like with the Furies, a well-timed sneak attack could eliminate her before a full confrontation even began.

But if they weren't lucky?

If Medusa spotted them first, Clovis knew with unsettling confidence that his wit alone wouldn't be enough to outmaneuver her. Deception might work for a short while, but with his strength not at its peak, he couldn't rely on his powers to disorient her—he'd need a sure-fire plan.

Clovis's mind raced, turning over endless possibilities as strategies formed, fell apart, and reshaped themselves with each step. There had to be a way to avoid a full confrontation with the Gorgon.

He glanced back at the others, his eyes lingering on each of them in turn. Part of him wanted to share his thoughts, to open up the discussion and see if they had any ideas. But something stopped him—whether it was the tension that hung heavy in the air or his own doubts, he wasn't sure, but something felt wrong.

Annabeth walked in silence beside him, her steely gray eyes scanning their surroundings with focused intensity. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, the weight of the quest knotting in her chest. Every now and then, her fingers would twitch toward the hilt of her dagger, a reflex born out of countless years of training.

Grover, meanwhile, was visibly nervous, his ears twitching every time a twig snapped or a shadow moved in the trees. He puffed a few more uncertain notes on his reed pipes, but his anxious gaze darted between the undergrowth, searching for any sign of movement. It was clear that walking through a creepy forest was getting to him—ironically enough—and no amount of music was going to settle his nerves.

Then there was Percy. At first glance, he appeared calm—almost too calm—but Clovis saw through the facade. Percy's hand hadn't left the pocket where Riptide was stashed, his fingers no doubt wrapped tightly around the pen. His sword arm was tense, and there was a quiet intensity in his eyes. As relaxed as Percy tried to seem, Clovis could feel the unease radiating from him like a low hum.

They were all wound tight, like a string about to snap, it seemed he wasn't the only one who felt something strange…

Clovis sighed as he adjusted the strap of his sheath, feeling the weight of his sword press against his back. They couldn't charge headfirst into every challenge like reckless heroes from old myths. If they did, they'd never survive this quest. No, they needed to be smarter, more strategic.

Soon, a glimmer of hope flickered in Clovis's mind, like a beacon in the darkness. The gods, it seemed, were smiling upon him as a thought suddenly struck him—a way out that didn't involve fighting Medusa head-on. What if he invoked the Ancient Greek tradition of Xenia, the sacred law of hospitality?

In Ancient Greece, Xenia was a sacred contract, a bond that could not be violated without risk of invoking the wrath of the gods. When a host and guest agreed to this unwritten contract, they were bound by specific duties. The host was obligated to provide food, drink, a place to rest, and safe passage to the guest's next destination. In return, the guest was to behave respectfully, offering no threat to the host, and ideally sharing stories or news from the outside world.

Medusa, despite her malevolent nature, had met many of the conditions for offering hospitality, at least by the ancient standards. The more Clovis thought about it, the more it made sense. In her interactions, Medusa had extended an invitation to her 'guests,' offering food, drink, and shelter—albeit with ill intentions. However, something crucial was missing: In the books Percy had never formally accepted her offer, leaving the bond of Xenia incomplete. The ritual wasn't fully sealed.

He just needed to bait her into formally sealing the bond.

However, even with this bond in place Medusa had shown a willingness to violate this sacred tradition countless times, he recalled that not only from the myths, but also from the books. Many victims had met their end under the guise of hospitality, their lives ended as they became petrified statues.

Naturally, he had no illusions about her willingness to cause them harm, even if they had protections in place. But his only concern was ensuring that whatever scheme she devised wouldn't prove fatal.

Even with the potential for things to go awry, Clovis felt a wave of relief wash over him, his mind filled with renewed confidence. This—this he could accomplish. If he could manipulate Medusa into agreeing to the rules of Xenia, they would be protected, after that they just needed to survive.

It was a big risk, but one rooted in the ancient traditions and laws of the gods themselves. Normally, it might be unlikely for the gods to intervene for a violation of hospitality, especially in the modern world where such customs had faded. But their group was far from ordinary. Clovis was the favored son of Hypnos, and after having met his father, he knew he held a unique place in Hypnos' heart. Annabeth was more than just the daughter of Athena; she was the favorite, the sharpest of her siblings, and her mother's pride. And Percy—well Percy was the only son of Poseidon, a demigod whose very existence carried immense weight in the eyes of Olympus.

If Medusa dared to break Xenia in their presence, it wouldn't be just any violation of hospitality. This wasn't the petty betrayal of an ordinary mortal host and guest. Medusa would be committing an offense against the sons and daughters of gods.

Clovis's thoughts turned to the stories of old, where breaking the bonds of Xenia had led to catastrophic consequences. The most infamous example was the Trojan War, a conflict ignited by a breach of hospitality. Paris, a guest in the house of King Menelaus, violated the sacred bond by abducting Helen, the king's wife, and stealing her away to Troy. In response, the Greeks sought revenge, not merely for the theft of Helen, but for the insult to Xenia. It was a direct offense to Zeus himself.

And that was just the consequence of a mortal breach. What would happen if a creature like Medusa, cursed by Athena and reviled by the gods, broke such a sacred bond?

The more Clovis mulled over the plan, the more his confidence grew. Even if Zeus himself, in his role as Zeus Xenios—the protector of guests and travelers—chose not to intervene, which Clovis was almost certain he wouldn't, purely due to Percy's presence, there was another divinity who could act without restraint...

Who? Simple: She, who holds dominion over Hospitality. Hestia.

He gave the plan serious thought, knowing that the goddess in question would likely respond if called upon, and also could act with impunity.

No one on Olympus would question her actions, even if she invoked something as obscure as Xenia—the ancient custom that had long lost its relevance in the modern world—to intervene.

The reason?

Well, because she was Hestia.

Hestia is, without question, the most beloved of all the gods. Her influence was subtle and all-encompassing, woven into the fabric of daily life of both mortals and deities. The gods revered her quietly, and though they might not boast of her importance openly—lest they seem lesser by comparison—her standing among them was unshakable, and her significance undeniable. She held a power few could challenge, and fewer still would dare.

Her esteemed position was clear in practice:

Entrusted with the sacred flame of Olympus, Hestia was the keeper of the gods' hearth, the one who symbolized the eternal stability of their reign. Without her, there would be no warmth, no light, no sense of home, even for the immortals. She was the steady hand in the ever-shifting chaos of the divine, the silent force that maintained balance among gods and mortals alike.

Wherever food was prepared or offerings were made, Hestia received the first share. Her presence was honored in every flame that flickered, every hearth that blazed in homes across the world. Even in the temples of other gods, her name was whispered before all others, and she was given the first and last sip of every libation offered to Olympus.

Hestia was different from the other gods. She didn't demand grand temples. Her worship took place in the most sacred space of all—the home. Every household fire, every humble meal cooked, was a prayer to her. In this way, Hestia became the most widely revered of the gods, not because of fear or ambition, but because she was essential to the lives of every mortal who lived beneath the stars.

By her own request, Zeus decreed that Hestia remain a virgin forever, untouched by the influence of Aphrodite or the lust of other gods. For any who might attempt to dishonor her, oblivion would be a mercy.

Even Homer, the great poet of ancient times, declared: "Among all mortals, she was chief of the goddesses."

These thoughts flooded Clovis's mind, leaving him with one certainty:

Hestia is the most beloved goddess.

Not even the gods of Olympus would dare blaspheme against her, so how could they expect her to sit idly by while Medusa violated her sacred laws in plain sight?

Hell, they would likely want to smite Medusa in Hestia's place.

So Clovis closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer to Hestia. He didn't ask for much—just her protection, her favor in ensuring that the bond of hospitality be honored. He promised her a grand sacrifice in her name if they made it through this ordeal alive. He didn't know what exactly he'd offer, but the weight of his promise hung in the air.

As soon as the prayer left his mind, he felt it—a gentle warmth, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. It was as though an unseen hearth had been kindled nearby, radiating a soft, comforting glow that momentarily lifted the oppressive chill of the night. The cold air softened for just a moment, and Clovis felt a calm wash over him, a subtle reassurance that his plea had been heard. Though fleeting, the presence of the goddess was undeniable. Hestia had acknowledged him.

He exhaled, his breath visible in the cool night air as his shoulders loosened, the tight coil of anxiety that had gripped him unwinding slightly. Confidence flooded him, a quiet certainty that Hestia's watchful eye might now be upon them.

That was all he needed to solidify his plan. Medusa wouldn't stand a chance against Hestia, but he needed to give her a chance to act without dying in the process...

A small cunning smile slowly crept onto his face.

---

They pressed on for what seemed to be an hour before the dark forest around them began to shift. In the distance, a flicker of light appeared, piercing through the gloom. Vibrant colors shimmered ahead, casting an eerie glow on the path, neon signs cutting through the blackness like beacons. The unnatural brightness stood out in stark contrast to the shadows that clung to the trees. As they approached, Clovis caught the unmistakable scent of food—rich, savory, and mouthwateringly delicious. His stomach growled involuntarily, despite knowing the truth: it was Medusa's trap, his hunger tugged at him, primal and persistent.

He almost couldn't resist, afterall he was a foodie in his old life…

The group emerged from the trees onto a deserted two-lane road, the asphalt cracked and worn, disappearing into the darkness on either side. It was lined with skeletal trees, their twisted branches reaching overhead like silent sentinels. A derelict gas station stood off to the side, its windows dark and boarded up, and a massive, weathered billboard loomed overhead, advertising a long-forgotten 1990s movie. But amid the decay and abandonment, one building remained stubbornly open, bathing the scene in an almost sickly neon glow.

The source of the light—and the tantalizing aroma—was a strange roadside curio shop. Its garish colors and tacky display made it feel out of place, like something pulled from a different time. The main building stretched long and low like a warehouse, its walls adorned with faded signs and mismatched trinkets. Surrounding it were acres of odd statues, each more bizarre than the last—cement grizzly bears, life-sized wooden Indians, lawn flamingos in gaudy pinks and greens. The whole place seemed frozen in time, its odd assortment of knick-knacks untouched by the world outside.

Clovis stared at the sign above the entrance, squinting as the jumble of glowing letters blurred together. His dyslexia twisted the words, turning them into a mess that danced before his eyes.

It looked like a jumble of letters: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM.

"Grover, can you read that?" Clovis asked, he did have to make sure it was the right place.

Grover squinted up at the sign, his sharp satyr eyes and lack of dyslexia making it an easy read. "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium," he said, his voice quiet.

"A fitting name," Clovis muttered, eyeing the entrance warily. His gaze flicked toward the pair of cement garden gnomes flanking the door, their ugly, bearded faces frozen in exaggerated grins. They waved cheerfully, as though welcoming them in for a photograph—innocuous at first glance, but unsettling in the context of their surroundings.

Clovis noticed Percy and Annabeth out of the corner of his eye, both of them staring at the neon glow with glassy, dreamlike expressions. Medusa's magic was creeping in, subtly wrapping itself around their senses. He wondered why he wasn't affected, though he suspected it was because he knew this was all a trap. His awareness acted as a shield against the enchantment.

"The lights are on inside," Annabeth remarked, her tone hopeful. "Maybe it's open."

"Food." Percy added dreamily, as if lost in thought.

"Food." Annabeth echoed in agreement, her eyes sparkling with desire.

"Are you two crazy?" Grover interjected, his voice tinged with concern. "This place is weird!"

Weird was an understatement.

They ignored Grover, caught up in the allure of the neon lights.

Clovis paused just outside the door of the warehouse, torn between waking his companions from their stupor and holding back. He knew now, standing this close, why he had felt that nagging unease in the forest as he contemplated collaborating on creating a plan with his friends. Medusa had been watching them all along. Her gaze, invisible but oppressive, had lingered on them from the moment they set foot near her lair. Every step they had taken, every word exchanged, had been observed by her. Clovis could feel it now—her eyes tracking them, waiting for the right moment to strike.

If he changed his mind, and tried to flee now, if he attempted to lead Percy, Grover and Annabeth away, she would drop the pretense and reveal herself in her full, monstrous Gorgon form. There would be no chance of escape then. Medusa would hunt them down, and they wouldn't stand a chance. Clovis clenched his jaw, realizing that avoiding Medusa, or escaping her was never an option. They would have to face her. He'd have to trust the gods, trust in his plan.

"Don't knock," Grover pleaded, his expression serious. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is just clogged up from that perfume," Annabeth retorted. "All I smell is delicious meat. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" Grover exclaimed in disgust. "I'm a vegetarian!"

"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Those are vegetables! Come on, let's leave. These statues are... looking at me."

Clovis felt an icy chill crawl down his spine as he caught sight of the gnomes' unblinking, stone eyes fixed in their direction. Their lifeless gazes seemed to follow him, unnerving and cold. "It's because they are looking at you," he said, his voice steady but laced with intensity.

His creepy words seemed to snap Percy and Annabeth out of their half-daze, momentarily disrupting the strange, creeping enchantment that had slowly been winding its way around them.

Grover, however, suddenly stood rigid, his usual nervous fidgeting stilled as his eyes grew wide with fear.

It soon became apparent why; as the door in front of us creaked open, revealing Auntie Em—or rather, Medusa herself. The enchantment surged back, intensifying and even ensnaring Grover.

Medusa's voice, soft yet dripping with an undeniable menace, drifted toward them like the faint whisper of a storm on the horizon. Her Middle Eastern accent gave her tone a strangely comforting lilt, but the warmth it projected was as false as the smile she wore. It sounded almost motherly—almost.

"Children," she said, her voice carrying a deadly calm, "it's far too late for you to be out here alone. What are your names, and where are your parents?"

Percy opened his mouth, ready to blurt out that wild, haphazard story—an explanation so unbelievable it would likely only make their situation worse.

But this was a moment that couldn't be left to chance. The wrong words, the wrong move, could mean disaster.

Before Percy could even form a sound, Clovis stepped forward, cutting him off in a swift but fluid motion. His disarming smile flashed briefly in the dim light, his manner calm yet deliberate, like a gambler who already knew the cards in play.

"Hello, Auntie Em, is it?" Clovis said smoothly, his tone casual yet carrying the weight of careful calculation. "Our parents are out of town for a bit. I'm Clovis, and these are Annabeth, Grover, and Percy. We were just having some fun in the woods, but it seems we've wandered a bit too far. It's getting late, and we're cold and hungry. Could you possibly help us?"

His voice was gentle but purposeful, each word chosen with precision. He infused his tone with just the right balance of naivety and respect, knowing full well that Medusa would be watching his every move, searching for any awareness of danger.

Medusa's eyes, though hidden beneath her headdress and veil, seemed to glitter with sinister satisfaction. "Oh, my dears," she cooed, her voice now oozing false sympathy, the malice beneath her words only thinly veiled. "You poor children. Of course, I can help you. Please, come inside. There's food and warmth in the back of the warehouse. Just go through to my living quarters. There's a dining area waiting just for you."

Her invitation hung in the air like the silky strands of a spider's web, each word laced with a subtle, venomous charm. It was an offer that felt both impossible to refuse and deeply right to accept.

"We'll have a lovely meal," she continued, her voice a soothing lull that almost masked the predatory edge beneath. "And after you've eaten, we'll find a nice, quiet place to set you down for the ..night."

Percy's foot shifted, his body instinctively leaning forward as though he were being drawn toward her words. His mind, unable to sense the haze of danger, seemed to latch onto the promise of warmth and food. It was too enticing, too easy, a lure dangling in front of them like bait for the unsuspecting.

But Clovis, ever watchful, moved quickly, extending his arm across Percy's chest and stopping him in his tracks. His touch was firm, steady, and his eyes didn't leave Medusa for a second. Percy blinked, shaken from whatever invisible thread had started to pull him in, and looked at Clovis with confusion.

Clovis turned back to Medusa with a small, knowing smile, though his eyes had sharpened, they now gleamed with a quiet satisfaction. The air around them buzzed with anticipation, ready to break at any second. When he spoke, his words were precise and cutting.

"Thank you, Auntie Em," Clovis said, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of subtle authority. "We truly appreciate your kindness in hosting us. We gratefully accept your hospitality." He paused, his gaze holding hers, which was hidden behind her veil unflinchingly. "May the gods bless you for your generosity."

As if on cue, a low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, its deep reverberation echoing in the distance.

Across from him, Medusa's reaction was subtle, but telling. Even with her headdress and veil hiding much of her face, Clovis could see the slight tightening of her concealed features. For just an instant, the mask of polite civility slipped, and a flicker of surprise—followed by frustration—flashed in her veiled eyes, her plan momentarily disrupted.

But she recovered quickly, her voice regaining its false warmth. "Please, go ahead," she said, gesturing toward the darkened entrance of her lair. But there was a strain in her tone now, an effort to maintain control.

Yet Clovis could feel the venom beneath her words, the anger she kept barely hidden. She was bound by the laws of Xenia, and though her hospitality might now be forced, it had to be present, at least until she schemed something up.

They all stepped inside.

Clovis felt the weight of the situation pressing on him as they stepped inside the warehouse. The air was thick, almost suffocating, and the dim lighting cast long, eerie shadows along the walls. The flickering bulbs buzzed overhead, only heightening the feeling of something unnatural lurking just beneath the surface.

Annabeth's sharp eyes darted around the room, her brow furrowed in concern. "This place feels off," she murmured, her voice low enough for only Clovis to hear. "Are you sure we should be here?"

Percy, rubbing the back of his neck, nodded. "Yeah, it's creepy," he added, glancing warily at the stone figures in the garden outside. "I don't like how everything seems to be watching us."

Clovis turned to face them, feeling a pang of disappointment, but that quickly vanished. Percy and Annabeth, despite all their strengths, were still children, inexperienced and vulnerable to the enchantment Medusa wove so easily around them. He sometimes forgot that, because as demigods they were far more mature. Nevertheless, now that they were inside and the ancient rule of hospitality was in place, there was no more need to keep them in the dark.

"Listen," Clovis began, his voice low and serious. "Auntie Em is undoubtedly a monster, and I'm almost certain she's Medusa. I'm surprised none of you picked up on it—Grover warned us about a monster lurking nearby." He paused, looking each of them in the eye. "But what's important now is that we're under the protection of Xenia. If she dares to violate our agreement, she will suffer dire consequences."

His words seemed to shatter the enchantment that had held them, the spell dispelling once they became aware, as if it had never been.

Annabeth's eyes grew sharp and calculating as she processed this information, before a mix of fear and realization crossed her face. "Do you really think she'll care about that?" she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Clovis met her gaze, his expression confident. "She has to care. Medusa may be ruthless, but she of all people will fear the gods' wrath. She knows the rules and even if she unwittingly agreed to Xenia, she will follow them, for now, until she decides on a course of action."

Percy swallowed hard, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Ah, right, Hospitality. I remember. So what you're saying is, let's hope she's more scared of the gods than she is bloodthirsty for demigods," he said, his voice betraying his anxiety despite his attempt to play it cool.

Clovis nodded, his eyes serious. "Exactly. That's our best shot at getting out of here alive. I don't think we're in any shape to fight Medusa, and if I guess correctly, she has been watching us since we've been in the forest, we didn't even have a chance to flee. I should have noticed, we were all too tense, we knew instinctively that something was off..."

Grover, who had been walking silently and trembling with fear, finally spoke up. "Medusa," he whimpered, his eyes wide and filled with terror. "Oh gods, we shouldn't have come. But... what exactly is Xenia?"

Clovis blinked in surprise, not expecting Grover to be the one lacking in his mythology knowledge. "It's the ancient tradition of hospitality, in Ancient Greece it was very popular. When a host offers shelter and food, it creates a sacred bond. The host is obligated to protect their guests, and the guests must show respect in return. If this bond is broken, it will give the gods a chance to intervene, if they so wish."

Percy glanced around nervously at the statues lining the walls, their frozen expressions of horror and despair sending chills down his spine. "Yeah... I think now might be a good time to start praying, just in case," he muttered.

Clovis shot him a look, half exasperated, half amused. "I've already taken care of that, but I suppose praying to your parents wouldn't be the worst idea, just in case. Let's focus on staying calm and vigilant. Be polite. Don't break our end of the agreement until she does."

Percy blinked, then let out a shaky laugh. "Wait, you prayed to the gods? Are we actually getting divine backup?"

Clovis cleared his throat. "I can't promise anything, but I've prepared for just about all that I can. You never know when the gods might decide to lend a hand."

Annabeth's eyes widened with interest. "Who did you pray to?"

Clovis's expression softened, his voice lowering. "Hestia. I considered Zeus, but we aren't exactly in his good graces. Nevertheless, Hestia reigns over Hospitality. If Medusa tries anything, she will hopefully support us."

As they ventured further into the dim interior of the warehouse, the building seemed to stretch on far longer than its outside appearance suggested. The walls were lined with life-sized statues, each one eerily lifelike, frozen mid-movement. Some wore looks of surprise, others resignation, but all seemed trapped in time, their faces twisted in silent terror.

Clovis couldn't help but feel a sense of dread growing inside him. It was as if the warehouse was expanding with every step, revealing more of Medusa's dark domain. He glanced at the endlessly numerous statues, unable to accept that they had all once been people, now forever prisoners in stone.

There were so many statues that he wondered if this was Medusa's ancient cave, now relocated with the Flame of the West.

"These statues," Clovis whispered to the group, nodding toward them. "They're all victims of Medusa."

Annabeth's gaze was steely. "She is pure evil. Even if she allows us to leave out of fear of our agreement, is it right to let her keep doing this?"

Clovis sighed heavily. "Evil, yes, but we lack the strength to defeat her. The fate she has imposed on these innocent people is beyond my imagination. You're only witnessing the surface; I can see much more clearly, they still live in a way, and it's a horrific existence..."

Grover whimpered again in fear. "I don't want to know."

At last, they reached the back of the warehouse, where a strange dining area awaited. Clovis's stomach twisted at the sight, though it wasn't from hunger this time. A fast-food counter gleamed under the flickering fluorescent lights, complete with a greasy grill, soda fountain, pretzel heater, and nacho cheese dispenser. It was the kind of place you'd expect to find off a lonely highway, not inside a monster's lair. Steel picnic tables were scattered across the floor, their cold surfaces clashing with the eerie atmosphere of the warehouse. The setting was both absurd and unsettling, as if Medusa had tried to recreate normalcy but failed to hide the malice beneath.

"Please, sit down," Medusa, who did not follow them inside, was already standing behind the counter, gestured toward the tables with a thin smile. The air around her hummed with restrained power, and her snakes hissed softly under her headdress and translucent veil, as if they too were waiting for something.

Percy shot a glance at Annabeth, his voice low. "Should we really sit?"

Annabeth hesitated, her instincts now flaring as the enchantment that had clouded their senses earlier no longer affected them. The malice in Medusa's forced smile was unmistakable, a predator waiting for her prey to drop its guard. She kept her voice steady, though her mind was racing. "We'll stand for now, thank you," she said carefully, not wanting to give Medusa any openings. "What's cooking?"

Medusa's smile widened, a brittle, toothy grin that just seemed unnatural. There was something deeply unsettling about her feigned hospitality, as if every word was a test, and she was waiting to catch a mistake. "Oh, just a little something special for my guests," she said, her voice sugary sweet but dripping with menace. "I promise you, it will be unforgettable."

Percy narrowed his eyes, refusing to play along with her dangerous game. "Yeah, right," he muttered under his breath. "What's in it? Stone soup?"

Clovis's thoughts raced as he processed Medusa's words, feeling a flicker of hope that his plan might actually work.

But even so, Clovis groaned softly, giving Percy a tired look. "Really? Stone soup? That's the best you've got?"

Percy shrugged, his expression slightly offended, but edged with tension. His fingers drummed nervously against the table, betraying his attempt to stay cool. "Hey, I'm under a bit of pressure here," he defended himself, though his gaze never left Medusa.

Beneath his usual bravado, Clovis could see Percy's demeanor—the growing unease flickering just beneath the surface. Percy's fingers tightened around the fork in his hand, his knuckles whitening, as though he was half-expecting to defend himself at any moment. It was clear that the tension in the room was starting to get to him, and he tried to mask it with his usual laid-back attitude.

"But I think," Percy added, his voice taking on a bolder, more serious tone that contrasted with the casualness of his words, "we would like to be going soon, if you'd be so kind. You know... places to be, things to do."

For a fleeting moment, Medusa's smile faltered, a brief flicker of irritation crossing her features. The cracks in her mask were starting to show, but she quickly regained control, smoothing her expression into one of cold amusement. She leaned forward, her voice dripping with deceptive calm, though her words carried a sharp, unmistakable edge.

"Oh, don't be in such a rush, my dear," she replied smoothly, though the underlying threat in her tone was impossible to miss. "You are my guests, you must at least eat and rest before you do anything else. You're safe here... for now."

She let the words hang in the air, her gaze sweeping over the group like a hunter sizing up prey. Her eyes lingered on each of them in turn, softening at the sight of Percy, but when they reached Annabeth, they paused a fraction longer, the predatory glint sharpening in her eyes.

"After all," Medusa continued, her voice taking on a more sinister edge, "you've accepted my hospitality. It would be rude not to eat."

A chill crept down Annabeth's spine, the weight of Medusa's words settling uncomfortably in her chest. She shot a glance at Clovis, who met her eyes and gave a subtle nod, his expression tense but composed.

That single phrase—for now—echoed in Annabeth's mind, sending a shiver of dread through her.

Annabeth's voice came out low, barely more than a whisper. "What do you mean by 'for now'?" she asked, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at Medusa.

Medusa's demeanor shifted abruptly, the thin veneer of warmth draining away like a tide receding before a storm. She leaned forward ever so slightly, her movements deliberate and predatory, and it was clear—she did not like Annabeth. Not one bit. The air around her seemed to grow colder, charged with a sinister energy, and her smile twisted into something far more dangerous.

Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur, dripping with malice, as though each word slithered through the air like a serpent poised to strike. "What I mean," she hissed, her eyes narrowing with cold intensity, "is that if you continue to refuse my hospitality, I may have to introduce you to my other guests."

The threat hung heavily between them, the implication clear. The room, once filled with deceptive calm, now bristled with an undercurrent of fear. Medusa's gaze lingered on Annabeth, her lips curling into a wicked grin that sent a chill through the room, as if daring her to push the boundary further.

Annabeth's eyes flickered to the corners of the room, where shadows stretched long and ominous, cloaking the grotesque sight of statues—humans frozen in mid-motion, their faces twisted in eternal expressions of terror and agony. They stood as silent sentinels, forever trapped in the moment of their last breath. The sight sent a chill through her, a grim reminder of what Medusa was capable of.

"What exactly do you do with your guests, Medusa?" Annabeth asked, her voice steady but edged with a blend of fear and sorrow as she gestured toward the petrified figures. She couldn't hold the question back.

Medusa's smile turned icy, her expression twisting with pleasure at the pain her handiwork had caused. Her veiled eyes narrowed to cruel slits, locking onto Annabeth with a gleam of twisted satisfaction. The malice radiating from her was palpable, a dark amusement at the horror she wrought.

"They keep me company," Medusa replied smoothly, her voice laced with wicked delight. "Though, I admit, I occasionally torment them for a bit of fun…" She let the words roll off her tongue, savoring the cruelty in them. Her gaze swept over the room, taking in the statues like one might admire a prized collection. "Still, they amuse me in their own way."

Then her eyes darkened, her tone shifting as she regarded Annabeth with an unrivaled venomous sneer. "And don't look at me with such judgment, girl. You're just like your mother."

Annabeth's breath caught in her throat at the mention of her mother, Athena. Her steely gray eyes remained locked onto Medusa, but a storm of emotions welled within her—primarily fury. She clenched her fists at her sides, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Why petrify them? Why torture them?" Annabeth asked, her voice trembling only slightly, though the rage beneath her words was unmistakable. "They're just mortals."

Medusa's laughter rang out, as if she had been waiting to hear Annabeth's question, but it wasn't the harsh, triumphant laugh one might expect. It was hollow, bitter—a laugh that carried centuries of pain.

"Why?" Medusa began softly, her voice trembling at the edges, as though the weight of the answer was too much for her to bear. "Because your mother... Athena... she cursed me."

She straightened, her posture becoming rigid as the air around her thickened with a profound sorrow that clung to her words. Her voice quivered, not just with rage, but with the ache of an old wound that had never healed. "I wasn't always like this, you know," she continued, her voice softening with a wistful, almost fragile tone. "I was beautiful once—revered, even. I had a life... a future. But your mother..." Her words tightened with bitterness, her eyes narrowing with hate. "She couldn't stand it. She couldn't bear to see the joy I had found, the love I was given."

Medusa's gaze drifted, growing distant, and for a brief moment, her monstrous features softened, as if she was seeing herself in a time long gone—before the curse, before everything was stripped away. "I loved him... Poseidon." A bitter, twisted smile curled her lips, tinged with an ancient love now lost to hate, rage and regret. "Was it a crime, to love a god?" she asked, her voice carrying a strange sadness, as if pleading for understanding. Her serpents hissed in sync, their agitation rising with her emotions, but she barely noticed. "But Athena... she saw it differently. She called it defilement. Treachery. I, her beloved priestess, dared to love within her sacred temple—with a rival no less. Ha, as if she could rival Him.

Her veiled eyes locked onto Annabeth's with an intensity that sent a chill through the room, and the depth of her sorrow, her anger, poured out like a flood of darkness. "Do you understand what it's like? To have everything—your beauty, your love, your future—ripped away in a single moment? She cursed me, not Poseidon. Me. He faced no consequences. It was me, her faithful servant, turned into this... this monster."

Medusa's voice cracked on the final words, heavy with self-loathing and bitterness. She spat them as if they left a vile taste in her mouth. Her shoulders trembled, her posture momentarily crumbling beneath the weight of her fury.

"My sisters tried to stay with me," she murmured, her voice fading to a whisper, the anger slipping into a deep, unshakable weariness. "They shared my curse willingly... for as long as they could. But it was mine to bear, mine alone. One by one, they faded away. I mourned them. And still, I remained. I endured!"

Her eyes roamed the room, settling on the statues of her victims, their frozen expressions of terror and agony reflected in her own twisted smile. The sadness was gone, replaced by a dark, malevolent pleasure that made the air feel colder. "These statues... these souls... they keep me company. They share in my suffering, my isolation. My own little world, where I am feared." Her smile twisted further into something grotesque. "Yet even fear is a poor substitute for the life I once had. The life your mother stole from me."

She turned back to Annabeth, her face hardening, and the brief flicker of vulnerability vanished completely, and only an all-consuming hatred remained. "You ask why I harm them? Why I turn them to stone?" Her voice sharpened, rising with renewed fury. "It's because of Athena! I want them to curse her name as I do. I want her to feel the weight of the torment she inflicted upon me through them. But that's not enough, she cares not. If she doesn't suffer personally she won't understand. So if I cannot have Athena, then her daughter will make a fine substitute."

Medusa's gaze grew even darker, her malice as sharp as a blade on the verge of striking. "You understand why you'll join them, don't you, Annabeth?" she crooned, her voice oozing with malevolent delight. "The sins of the mother are visited upon the daughter. You will take her place in my collection."

Annabeth's breath caught in her throat as Medusa leaned closer, the Gorgon's words like poison in the air. "You carry your mother's pride," Medusa continued, her voice now cold and unyielding. "I see it in your eyes. I will take pleasure in breaking that pride. You will repent for Athena's sins, and in doing so, you will suffer—just as I have. One day you too will curse the name of Athena."

Medusa's gaze locked onto Annabeth's, her expression twisted only with deep-seated hatred and cruelty. "Your torment will be my greatest joy," she whispered with power and conviction, the promise of her words sinking into the silence like a curse.

The tension in the room thickened, like a storm on the verge of breaking. Clovis felt his pulse quicken, Medusa's words hanging in the air like a death sentence. He cursed himself for not stopping Annabeth earlier, for allowing her to provoke Medusa.

The demigods instinctively shifted, their hands inching toward their weapons, though they knew that striking first could spell their doom.

But slowly Medusa's smile returned, her tone syrupy and smooth. "But first," she continued, her voice deceptively sweet again, "you must eat. Refusing my hospitality would be... unwise." Her veiled eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "The sacred law of Xenia binds us, after all. You wouldn't want to insult me, would you?"

Reluctantly, the demigods exchanged uneasy glances. Clovis caught Annabeth's fierce eyes, and he gave the slightest nod. This he could work with, anyway, Medusa's thinly veiled threat was clear—play along, or face something far worse.

Clovis sighed, his stomach growling despite his better judgment. With great reluctance, they settled onto the cold steel picnic tables, the chill of the metal seeping through their clothes. As they did, food appeared before them as if conjured by magic.

Plates piled high with golden fried potatoes, steaming bowls of pasta drizzled with fragrant sauces, and vibrant salads glistening with rich dressings materialized in an instant. There were also succulent roasted vegetables, their edges caramelized to perfection, and baskets overflowing with freshly baked bread, warm and inviting.

Trays of glazed chicken, golden-brown and glistening with a sweet and tangy sauce, alongside tender cuts of beef simmered in a savory herb sauce. Bowls of creamy risotto sat beside fluffy couscous sprinkled with pomegranate seeds, their colors vibrant and enticing. A selection of cheeses, from sharp cheddar to rich brie, accompanied an assortment of crackers and fruit.

Desserts completed the feast—decadent chocolate cakes, delicate pastries filled with custard, and bowls of fresh berries glistening with a drizzle of honey. The aroma was intoxicating, a heady mix of savory spices, herbs, and rich sauces that made Clovis's stomach tighten in hunger, despite the warning bells ringing in his mind about the danger lurking behind Medusa's faux hospitality. Each dish seemed to beckon them closer, a tempting reminder of the warmth and comfort of a meal shared among friends, yet the unsettling atmosphere hinted at the hidden peril beneath this elaborate feast.

"Just one bite," Medusa urged, her voice like silk, sliding into their ears with dangerous persuasion. "You wouldn't want to offend me, now would you? After all, this is the finest feast you'll ever taste."

Grover fidgeted nervously, glancing between the food and Medusa's unsettling smile. "But... what if it's poisoned?" he whispered to his friends, his voice barely audible, but the fear in his tone was unmistakable.

Percy, his gaze darting from the feast to Medusa, shook his head. "We don't really have a choice, do we?" he muttered under his breath.

Annabeth bit her lip, her eyes scanning the room for any possible escape. Her mind raced, calculating options, but none seemed viable. "Maybe we can pretend to eat while we figure something out," she whispered, her voice tight with anxiety.

Clovis hesitated, his gaze fixed on the food before him. It looked flawless—almost unnaturally so. The rich aromas were too enticing, the presentation too pristine. It all but screamed of enchantment, of deception.

His mind raced, recalling what he'd read, this was it, what he had waited for—the food was laced with a sleeping potion or something similar. If that still held true, it would be enough to constitute a breach of the pact, and also not be lethal to them…

"No, we must eat. We don't have many options," Clovis muttered, his head lowered to conceal his emotions, his voice heavy with faux resignation. "We can't break Xenia; doing so would give her all the justification she needs to attack us without fear of repercussions. It's a gamble... but we have to take it."

As they exchanged hesitant glances, the demigods lifted their forks, pausing briefly before finally diving into the feast laid out before them. The moment the food touched their tongues, however, their hesitation transformed into astonished delight. The flavors bursting in their mouths were beyond anything mortal cuisine could provide—rich, exquisite, and almost intoxicating.

Every bite was a revelation. The golden fried potatoes were crisp on the outside and tender on the inside, seasoned to perfection with a blend of herbs that elevated them to a new level of indulgence. The pasta was enveloped in a velvety sauce that clung lovingly to each strand, bursting with the depth of sun-ripened tomatoes and fragrant basil. Even the vibrant salads offered a symphony of textures, with crunchy greens and sweet, juicy tomatoes enhanced by a tangy dressing that made every forkful refreshing.

The roasted vegetables carried a natural sweetness that beautifully balanced the savory spices, while the warm, crusty bread practically melted in their mouths, inviting them to savor its comforting warmth. The glazed chicken was tender and succulent, with a sweet and tangy glaze that left a delightful aftertaste. Rich cheeses rounded out the spread, their creamy textures and complex flavors enhancing the overall experience.

It felt as if each dish had been crafted in the kitchens of Olympus itself, infused with a divine essence that made them unforgettable. The meal was a feast for the senses, awakening their appetites and momentarily pushing aside the foreboding atmosphere. In that instant, they were transported beyond their peril, caught up in a whirlwind of taste and indulgence, their worries momentarily forgotten.

Percy blinked, momentarily distracted by the sheer perfection of the meal. "Wow... this is... incredible," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief as he continued to shovel food into his mouth.

Annabeth's expression remained guarded, even as she followed Percy's lead. Her instincts screamed that something was amiss, but she couldn't stop eating. "It's too good," she murmured, her brow furrowed with concern. "Something's definitely off."

The faster they ate the more they felt a warmth envelope them. At first, it felt gentle and comforting, but then the heat intensified, becoming heavy and oppressive.

Percy's eyelids fluttered as if he were fighting to stay awake, and Grover slumped forward, his fork clattering to the floor.

"I... I can't... stay awake..." Grover mumbled, his head drooping as his eyes slid shut, unable to resist the overwhelming drowsiness.

Clovis felt a flush of triumph as instead of falling under the same spell, a surge of energy coursed through his veins, like he'd taken a swig of nectar. The food had indeed been laced with a sleeping potion, far stronger than she might have originally used, yet still a sleeping potion. That would be her folly.

Medusa, watching from over the counter with a satisfied gleam in her veiled eyes, merely smiled. The glee in her expression was unmistakable. She began to rise from her seat, slowly removing her headdress and veil, revealing the writhing mass of snakes that made up her hair. "You've accepted my hospitality," she crooned, her voice dripping with malevolent glee. "And now... you'll pay the price."

But before she could do anything, under the surprised eyes of Medusa, Clovis acted. He sprang from his place on the bench and tackled Percy, Annabeth, and Grover to the floor in one swift motion.

His body glowed faintly with a soft, ethereal light as he called upon his powers, focusing on dispelling the effects of the sleeping potion. A ripple of energy spread from his hands, washing over his companions in waves, snapping them out of their stupor.

Annabeth gasped as clarity returned, pushing herself up on shaky arms. "What... just happened?" she stammered, blinking rapidly as she scanned the room.

Percy groaned as he woke up, squinting at the ceiling. "That was one hell of a lasagna…" he muttered as he started to sit up, still trying to shake off the fog.

Grover rubbed his eyes, dazed but awake. "Clovis... you saved us!" he whispered thankfully.

Clovis stood, his jaw set as he turned his cold gaze toward Medusa. "You've broken the sacred pact," he said icily, his voice steady despite the insurmountable threat in front of him. "You'll regret that."

Medusa's smile evaporated, her eyes narrowed into slits. "Ah. A son of Hypnos?" she hissed, her voice low and filled with anger. "You think your paltry powers can protect you? I merely wished to give you a peaceful end, for Poseidon's sake, yet if you insist on pain…"

Suddenly, the air in the room grew suffocating and they were frozen in place unable to move, as though reality itself was pressing down on their presence. The oppressive warmth from the enchanted meal vanished, replaced by a bone-deep, freezing cold that wrapped around them like a vice. The walls seemed to close in, tightening, pressing inward. The very atmosphere felt heavy, laden with a dread so thick it made breathing a struggle.

Medusa's once-human form began to shift grotesquely, her transformation more horrifying than any nightmare. Her skin rippled, tearing as something ancient clawed its way free. The sound of bones snapping and reforming echoed in the vast room, each crack like a thunderous curse. Her body elongated and twisted unnaturally, limbs distorting as her frame swelled with terrible, ancient power. The very air vibrated in fear, recoiling from the malevolent energy she radiated.

Her hair, once hidden, erupted into a chaotic mass of serpents—dozens, perhaps hundreds of them, each more menacing than the last. They thrashed violently, their hissing filling the room with a deafening roar. Their slitted eyes glowed a sickly green, brimming with rage and venom, and their forked tongues flickered in the dim light. The serpents moved as if possessed by a hunger for destruction, coiling and striking erratically. Horrific venom dripped from their glistening fangs, sizzling as it hit the stone floor, the acrid stench of it burning their nostrils.

Medusa's face twisted into a monstrous snarl, her mouth stretching unnaturally wide to reveal rows upon rows of jagged, yellowed teeth. Her maw was an abomination, her boar-like tusks gleaming wickedly in the faint light, curving upward in cruel arcs, designed to rip and tear flesh from bone.

Her fingers elongated grotesquely, the skin splitting as razor-sharp brass claws emerged, gleaming like polished death. Each jagged edge was crafted to cut through flesh, bone, and steel. The sound of her claws scraping together resembled the grinding of swords in a furnace, a metallic screech that made the air tremble.

Golden, scaled wings burst from her back, torn and jagged, darkening the remaining light. They unfurled like banners of death, trembling with the same malevolent energy coursing through her.

Her lower body twisted into a massive serpent's tail, impossibly thick and covered in blackened scales as hard as iron. Each scale shimmered with an unnatural sheen, absorbing the flickering light. The tail, easily twenty feet long, flexed with lethal power, coiling and uncoiling with deadly precision. As her full weight settled on the enchanted floor, it cracked beneath her, spiderwebs of fractures snaking out from her massive form.

As she rose to her full height, Medusa loomed before them, an overwhelming figure of ancient malice standing thirty feet tall. The room warped and twisted in size as her transformation completed. The darkness around her thickened like smoke. Her presence was suffocating, an oppressive force that felt as though it was stealing the air from their lungs. Every inch of her radiated danger, her grotesque distortion serving as a chilling testament to her curse—a twisted relic of primal terror.

"What in the name of Olympus was Athena thinking, creating this… thing?" Clovis thought horrified.

Her soft voice, once sly and seductive, had become a guttural snarl, like a serpent's hiss magnified into something truly monstrous. It reverberated through the room, oozing with venomous hatred that made the skin crawl. "Be honored, little godlings," she spat, her words dripping with ancient malice. "For you shall fall before the full might of Medusa."

Medusa's gaze finally settled on them for she deliberately avoided their eyes, so as to indulge in their terror. It was a look that should have turned them to stone in an instant. Yet, something was amiss. Clovis, Annabeth, Percy, and Grover stood rooted in place, still frozen by the sheer weight of her presence—and still, they lived.

They remained upright, staring her down defiantly. Her curse failed, their bodies defying the stone-shaping power of her eyes. The heavy pounding of their hearts filled their ears, adrenaline coursing through their veins, yet none of them succumbed to her gaze.

Medusa's triumph faltered, her expression shifting from predatory confidence to bewildered confusion. "What... what is this?" she growled, her voice cracking with disbelief. Her serpents lashed and hissed, recoiling as if sensing the disruption in her ancient magic. Something beyond her control had shattered the curse, something far more powerful than Medusa's own monstrous will.

Then, from the shadows, a golden light bloomed—not Medusa's unnatural darkness, but a warm, radiant glow that filled every corner of the room. It started as a subtle flicker, like a single flame, but it quickly swelled, growing brighter and brighter until it blazed with the brilliance of a sunlit hearth. The warehouse was bathed in a golden hue, the oppressive shadows vanishing as though they had never been. The air, once thick with dread, grew lighter and warmer, like the gentle embrace of a fire on a cold night.

A voice echoed through the space, warm and calm but immeasurably powerful. It carried the weight of ancient law, the quiet strength of unyielding authority. "I never imagined you would be so bold as to break a pact that I personally upheld; now you will confront the consequences of your actions."

The golden light surged toward Medusa, emanating both judgment and warmth. She staggered back in fear, her monstrous form trembling as her serpents shrieked. This was no ordinary illumination; it was the light of the sacred fire of the goddess Hestia.

Yet for all her fear, she could not escape the weight of Hestia's judgment.

The warmth pressed against Medusa, not burning, but peeling away her monstrous essence like a veil of malevolence being torn off. Her towering form began to falter, her once-mighty body convulsing as a high-pitched shriek of terror escaped her lips. The transformation that had made her an unstoppable force moments before began to unravel. Her massive serpent tail coiled and uncoiled, shrinking with each movement as her scales dulled, losing their otherworldly gleam. The great wings, once vast and imposing, became frail, folding into her back, too weak to carry their weight. Her brass claws, once poised to rend flesh from bone, retracted, the savage strength that had fueled them fading like a dying ember.

Medusa was being reduced—stripped of her power by Hestia's divine intervention. The Gorgon, once the embodiment of terror, was now a hollow shell, trembling before the goddess's light. Her terrifying grandeur dissipated, leaving her a broken version of her former self, far from the force of myth she had been.

"Hestia…" Clovis whispered in awe, his voice barely audible as the light bathed them in its protective warmth. The goddess's presence enveloped them like an unseen shield, guarding them against any potential harm.

Medusa, her voice now reduced to a raspy whisper, looked up in terror and confusion. "What... what have you done?" she croaked, her serpents falling limp, lifeless around her head.

No answer came.

"Strike, now!" Clovis suddenly shouted as he snapped out of his daze, adrenaline surging through his veins like fire. "While she's weak!"

That roused his friends, and the demigods moved as one, their fear evaporating in the face of divine protection. Clovis drew his Claymore, the blade thrumming in his hands with newfound energy. Annabeth and Percy flanked Medusa, their movements precise and swift, while Grover's reed pipes filled the air with a haunting melody, the notes infusing them with strength.

Medusa, still dazed and weakened, lashed out in desperation. Her brass claws swiped wildly, but Clovis was already moving. He sidestepped her sluggish attack, bringing his Claymore down in a wide arc, the blade biting deep into her arm and sending her reeling backward.

Annabeth was next, her dagger flashing as she darted in, slashing at Medusa's side with expert precision. Percy followed in one fluid motion, Riptide glinting as he drove the sword into Medusa's tail, the strike forcing the Gorgon further back, her monstrous form growing more unstable with each blow.

The battle unfolded in a blur of movement, Medusa's once-terrifying form now slow and clumsy, her power broken by Hestia's light. Her attempts to strike back were feeble, her body too weakened to keep up with the relentless onslaught of the demigods. The divine energy radiating from Hestia filled them with an almost sacred strength, fueling their attacks with precision and power.

Grover's music filled the air, propelling them forward and spurring them on. Clovis felt Hestia's warmth flowing through him, guiding each strike of his Claymore as he intensified his assault. He wasn't alone; Annabeth and Percy moved in perfect harmony, their weapons slicing through the air with powerful blows accompanying each strike.

Medusa was driven further back toward the edge of the warehouse, until she hissed and lunged with one final, desperate attempt to end them, her clawed hands swinging wildly—but it was futile.

Together, the demigods overwhelmed her. Annabeth's dagger found its mark, piercing deep into Medusa's side. Percy's sword slashed through her tail with a final, decisive strike. And Clovis, his muscles burning with divine strength, delivered the finishing blow, his Claymore cleaving through the air to decapitate the once-terrifying Gorgon.

With a final, anguished hiss, Medusa's body collapsed, crumbling into golden dust as her monstrous form disintegrated. The power she wielded evaporated as swiftly as it had come, leaving behind only her severed head, with its snakes still writhing weakly, and temporarily stripped of its deadly gaze.

Clovis made a grimace in disgust, wrapping the head hastily in a wool blanket from his briefcase before tossing it aside. The slimy, twitching snakes made his skin crawl.

The warehouse grew quiet, the divine light that had illuminated the space fading to a dim glow. There was only a faint crackling that remained in the air as Hestia's presence gradually withdrew, allowing stillness to envelop them.

In that moment of silence, the only sound they heard was the pounding of their own heartbeats as the true toll of the encounter sank in. It wasn't the battle itself that had drained them; rather, it was the overwhelming weight of fear that had gripped them during those tense moments. Now, standing victorious, they recognized that they had confronted one of the most feared monsters in mythology—and, thanks to Hestia's intervention, they had triumphed with surprising ease.

Clovis exhaled heavily, his chest rising and falling as the adrenaline drained from his body. He blinked, still half in awe of what had just happened. "I'm really glad I prayed to Hestia," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "We should try divine intervention more often."

Annabeth, leaning against a nearby steel bench, let out a breathless laugh. "If only it worked that way," she said, her tone tinged with both relief and exhaustion.

Grover, wiping the sweat from his brow, managed a shaky grin. "Next time, though," he panted, "maybe we skip the cursed feast. I'd rather fight than be knocked out by an enchanted salad."

The group shared a collective chuckle, the tension easing as they sank onto the steel benches to catch their breath.

After a few quiet moments, Percy, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing warily at the golden dust that had once been Medusa, finally broke the silence. "Annabeth, I don't want to be rude," he started cautiously, shooting her a sideways glance, "but maybe next time your mom decides to, uh, create a monster, she could, I don't know, make it a little less..."

Clovis didn't miss a beat, deadpan as ever. "Horrifying?"

Grover, clutching his reed pipes tightly as if he could still hear the distant echoes of Medusa's hissing snakes, nodded fervently. "Nightmare-inducing?"

Percy finished, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Powerful."

Annabeth's expression faltered, her lips pursing in a pout. For a moment, she looked like she was about to leap to Athena's defense, her eyes narrowing with the stubbornness she always showed when anyone dared criticize her mother.

But then, her face softened, and she sighed; it wasn't like they were wrong. She crossed her arms, and cast a defeated glance at her shoes, kicking a piece of rubble halfheartedly.

"I mean," Percy continued, rubbing his temples as if the encounter had left him with a headache, "I've fought a lot of monsters now—hellhounds, Furies, the Minotaur—but Medusa? That was... next level."

Annabeth exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping. "Okay, maybe," she half admitted, sounding uncharacteristically resigned. "Possibly, Athena has a habit of going a little overboard when it comes to curses."

Clovis raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he teased her. "A little? We almost became garden ornaments because of 'a little.' If Hestia hadn't stepped in after my prayer... well, I'd rather not think about it."

"I could feel my insides turning to stone even without her powers," Grover added, visibly shuddering at the memory. "No offense, Annabeth, but I'm really glad your mom's monsters aren't a regular thing."

Annabeth bit her lip, half embarrassed, half conflicted, before she spoke. "It wasn't just her fault, you know," she mumbled, her tone softening. "The Sea God… well, he disrespected her. That's what pushed her to make such a drastic decision."

"Yeah, I won't deny he made a few bad choices," Percy sighed, still trying to shake the lingering unease from the battle. "But turning someone into a massive snake-haired, death-staring monster? Maybe a bit... excessive?"

Annabeth crossed her arms tighter, clearly wanting to push back but finally conceding. "Okay, it was a bit uncalled for."

Clovis, sheathing his Claymore with a soft click, shook his head with mock solemnity. "Remind me to always stay on Athena's good side. I don't think I'd look great as a monster."

Their shared laughter echoed in the now-empty warehouse, a welcome sound after the intensity of the fight. The weight of what they had just accomplished lingered in the air, but the camaraderie between them helped push the fear aside, making it feel more like a distant memory.

Percy, ever practical, finally gestured toward the wool-wrapped bundle on the floor. "So… what are we supposed to do with that?" He pointed at Medusa's severed head, the snakes still twitching faintly beneath the blanket. "I mean, we can't exactly take it back to camp for show-and-tell."

Clovis grimaced, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought. "Yeah, no. It's bad enough I had to wrap it up with a blanket—those are hand knitted by pretty nymphs—but I think I have the beginnings of an idea on how to deal with it."

As he spoke, Clovis instinctively took a deliberate step away from the bundle. Even wrapped in layers of wool, the thought of Medusa's head made his skin crawl. "Seriously," he added, shaking his head, "that thing is gross."

Grover, who had been keeping his distance from Medusa's head since the moment it hit the ground, exhaled in relief. "Good," he muttered. "I've already got enough nightmare fuel without that thing tagging along on the rest of our quest."

Clovis shot Grover a weird look. "You know, if you'd just ask, I could make sure you have nothing but pleasant dreams…"

Grover's cheeks flushed in embarrassment, mumbling something incoherent as he looked away.

Annabeth though didn't waste any time lingering on Grover's embarrassment. Her curiosity was clearly piqued by Clovis's cryptic comment. "Forget about Grover for now," she said, crossing her arms and eyeing him carefully. "What's your plan for the head?"

Clovis gave her a playful wink. "I'll fill you in soon," he replied casually, his voice brimming with confidence. "Still working out the finer details. But in the meantime, we should check this place out. If my hunch is right—and it usually is—this warehouse isn't just a random roadside attraction. I'm betting it's Medusa's ancient lair, relocated with the Flame of the West. There's probably a hidden treasury or something valuable stashed away. I don't imagine many of her visitors ever get the chance to loot this place."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the idea, while Percy leaned back, his arms crossed, already imagining what kind of treasures they might find. "Treasury? You're thinking of gold statues or piles of drachmas?" Percy asked with a big grin, always quick to jump at the idea of money after looking at the expensive things on the Hermes Express.

Clovis shrugged nonchalantly, though a teasing glint shone in his eyes. "Could be riches. Or maybe something even better—magical artifacts." He glanced around the warehouse. "I say we start looking."

Without further prompting, the group stood up, stretching out their limbs after the tense encounter. The warehouse was large and cluttered, chalk full of Medusa's victims.

They split up, each of them combing through the back of the warehouse. Percy wandered toward a stack of old boxes covered in dust, while Annabeth went straight for the shelves, her fingers running over dusty books and ancient trinkets. Grover, still looking a little shaken, kept to the edges, clearly not wanting to get too close to anything that might still carry traces of Medusa's magic.

Percy was the first to find something of interest. He stumbled upon an old wooden door, its hinges rusty and half-hidden behind stacks of crates. "Hey, guys," he called, pushing it open with a grunt. "I think I found something—looks like an office or a storeroom."

The group gathered as Percy led them inside what appeared to be Medusa's private office. The room was surprisingly well-kept, considering the rest of the warehouse. A desk sat in the middle, cluttered with papers, and the walls were lined with cabinets. On the desk lay a thick account book, its pages yellowed with age. Percy picked it up, flipping through the entries.

"Looks like Medusa had been doing business with the Underworld," Percy said, raising an eyebrow. "Her six most recent sales are shipments to Hades and Persephone. Apparently, they like garden statues too—go figure." He snorted, holding up a freight bill. "And here's the kicker: the Underworld's billing address is DOA Recording Studios in West Hollywood, California."

Annabeth's eyes gleamed with interest. "That's where the entrance to the Underworld is," she said. "Makes sense they'd need someone like Medusa to… 'decorate.'"

As Percy rifled through the desk, he pocketed a small stash of twenty dollars, a handful of golden drachmas, and several packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express. "Might come in handy later," he said with a grin.

But it was Clovis who hit the real jackpot. While the others searched the office, he wandered deeper into Medusa's private living quarters. The room was dimly lit, with heavy velvet curtains hanging over the windows, and an ancient, musty smell filled the air. The space was sparsely furnished—almost monastic—but there was a large, ornate chest at the foot of the bed, half-hidden by a blanket.

Clovis knelt beside it, inspecting the intricate carvings that adorned the chest. They depicted scenes of Medusa's life before her curse, when she was still a beautiful priestess of Athena. Clovis ran his fingers over the images, sensing a faint hum of magic beneath them. "Got something," he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

The others quickly joined him, their curiosity piqued. Annabeth's eyes widened as she saw the chest. "That's old. Really old." she murmured, ever the expert on all types of designs and models.

Percy stepped forward, his hand resting on Riptide's pen form. "So, what's in it? How should we, uh, open it?"

Clovis, always one to approach with caution, pulled out his sword and gently tapped the chest's lid, half-expecting some kind of trap to spring. But nothing happened. He raised the latch and slowly lifted the lid, the ancient hinges creaking in protest.

Inside, the chest was filled with treasures. Golden drachmas and sparkling gemstones nearly overflowed from the edges. But it wasn't the riches that caught their attention. Nestled at the bottom of the chest, wrapped in a silk cloth, lay a gleaming celestial bronze dagger. It glowed faintly in the dim light, its hilt adorned with symbols that hinted at powerful magic.

Annabeth knelt beside Clovis, her fingers lightly tracing the dagger's handle. Her breath caught in her throat. "This isn't just any weapon," she whispered, eyes wide with awe. "It's ancient. I can feel the power—my mother's influence. This was from before Medusa's curse, when she was a favored priestess."

Percy grinned, nudging Grover. "Looks like we're walking out of here with more than just nightmares."

Grover, still slightly warily, managed a smile. "As long as none of it's cursed," he muttered, "I'm good with whatever gets us through the next fight."

Clovis glanced at the pile of loot and then back at the group. "Annabeth, you should take the dagger. It'll be a serious upgrade for you, it looks powerful. Keep your old one as a backup." He gave the celestial bronze dagger an appreciative look. "As for the rest of this treasure, I'll stash it in my briefcase. We can split it once the quest is over—along with whatever other spoils we find along the way."

Annabeth nodded with determination, as her fingers curled around the dagger's hilt, she stood saying. "Thanks, Clovis. I'll bring this the honor that Medusa failed too."

Percy gave a satisfied nod as Clovis carefully packed the remaining treasures into his briefcase. "Alright," Percy said, his voice now bright with newfound energy. "There's got to be more hidden around here, right? Let's keep looking."

His excitement was contagious. Even Grover, who had been eyeing the shadows with lingering fear, straightened up and joined in. The group exchanged glances, sharing a sense of renewed purpose, before they split up once more, fanning out to continue their search. Whatever tension had remained was replaced with a hopeful curiosity. Whatever secrets the warehouse still held, they were ready to uncover them…

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Thanks for the follows, favorites and reviews. I appreciate your appreciation. I hope you all enjoyed the next chapter here. Let me know what you think, also if you see any large loopholes I might have missed; don't think too much on it, this is a fanfiction.

I hope you guys liked the scenes with Medusa, it wasn't an epic battle, but more of an epic swift kill which is what I was aiming for. I tried to make Medusa out like a tragic character but also show that she is far beyond redemption, not only because of her deeds, but because of how twisted she has become. Maybe in the future she'll eventually sober up, but not in this century at least. Also, how did you guys like the loot? I found it strange that such an old powerful monster lair only had some chump change in the books.

Coming up is a small overview/preview of the next chapter, just so you know, SPOILER ALERT; So next chapter, we continue looting, finding some novel things, but Clovis doesn't want to procrastinate on repaying Hestia, so they get to it. Afterward the group finally gets to relax and rest, Clovis shows off some more of his advanced planning, and they all bond a bit more before bed. That however brings about an unexpected twist which should be fun to read…