(A/N) IMPORTANT. Chapter revised on Jan 9, 2024. Added another "section" at the end of the chapter.
Sally Jackson couldn't stop herself from jumping in to help. It was only natural, as she was the mother of a demigod herself. The woman could sympathize all too much. Were the same to occur to her and her child, she would hope that someone would step in, just like she was doing right now.
"Hey!" The brunette shouted.
The towering figure turned towards the direction of her voice. On the other side of the hall, the hobbling father turned around in surprise before returning with more haste with his task, unclasping the red, metal canister from the foot of the wall.
The cyclops' growl thrummed throughout the chamber.
Even from a distance, Sally wanted to gag at the stinking breath from its mouth. Her eyes flitted towards the man approaching the monster from behind. She took one last glance at the pouch in her hands and flung it at the monster's head.
The bag of treats bounced off harmlessly as blue, translucent hard candies spilled out from within. They scattered and bounced all over the marble floor.
Sally felt the cool air caress her skin as the Cyclops drew in a breath. Her muscles stiffened.
The wind stilled. And then it roared.
A wall of sound slammed against her delicate frame, thundering against her innards. Her entire body went numb. And then it hit. Hot stench ripped across her form, licking her skin and burning her eyes. Her legs moved without thought, carrying her back in a stumbling mess.
The creature took a step forward and the ground shook. But the short distraction had been enough. Before it could wound up a charge, another shout echoed from behind the monster. "Over here, you—"
It turned around. The father hefted the fire extinguisher.
"—piece of shit!" With a powerful rupture, a concentrated stream of white gaseous foam was ejected into its face. The creature's bellow tore through the hall, the silhouette of its enormous figure staggered within a thick, growing cloud of smoke.
A loud metallic clang echoed through the hall.
The brunette was jolted out of her daze, her muscles still tender and her bones still shaking. With light steps, she quickly made her way around the smoke, the shadow swayed and shifted from within, each time accompanied by the struggling rumbles of the cyclops. Sally arrived on the other side and spotted the man breathing heavily as he continued to stare at the cloud of white mist, the fire extinguisher lying by his feet.
"We need to go," the woman said urgently, catching the man's attention. "Now."
The man swallowed and nodded quickly. "Right."
Sally threw one of his arms over her shoulders. "Can you hop?"
The man looked at her before smirking. "Yeah. Yeah, I can. Thanks. Let's go." He paused before pointing with his free arm at the arch the girl had entered. "This way, I have to find Lacy… if she hasn't already left."
Emiya stood on the empty platform—where the scent of the girl led him—watching the last lights of the metro dwindle into the depth of the tunnel in a silent roar of escaping air.
Even long since Lacy had boarded the train, the fragrances of roses and chocolate were still tangible in the air. Emiya stared down the void of the tunnel. The muted howl of winds echoed from the pitch-black hole.
He flipped out his phone and punched in a quick message—Dinner and dessert are in the fridge. I'll be back late, make sure to eat on time.
In the eerie silence that followed their escape from the cyclops, Sally and the man found themselves aboard a mostly vacant subway car, the rhythm of the tracks below a stark contrast to the chaos left behind.
The brunette was unsure how they had managed to lose their pursuer. She was skeptical that their little stunt with the fire extinguisher was able to halt the advances of a cyclops. But in the end, they had made it, hobbling onto the platform and into a departing carriage. It was absurd that given the ample time they took retreating, there was not a hint of the Cyclops giving chase. It was a miracle.
The dim overhead lights flickered sporadically, casting a soft glow on their weary faces. Sally took a seat beside the man, their breaths gradually steadying in the quietude of the moment.
With a tired huff the man the man pocketed his broken phone and turned towards her. He extended his hand, "I'm Robert, by the way. Robert Aurelia. I can't thank you enough for what you did back there."
She took his hand, "I'm Sally. Sally Jackson." There was a brief pause before Sally added, "So what's the plan, now?"
"I need to find my daughter as soon as possible," he frowned. "I only sent her away because I believed that… man would have caught up to us. But now we've lost him. And Lacy is still out there… on her own."
"…Let me help."
Robert turned to her in surprise.
"Your ankle will slow you down. The sooner we find your daughter, the better."
Robert opened his mouth—and Sally could almost feel the words of refusal about to roll off his tongue—before the man stopped himself abruptly. There was a moment of pause before the man let out a long breath.
"I… yeah. Yeah, I'll need all the help I can get." His brows unfurled and he looked at her with a serious yet sincere expression. "Thank you."
Sally smiled. "No problem."
The duo fell into silence as they stared at the darkness of the window. With every lull of the carriage, their tired reflections tilted up and down in the glass frame.
"Hey, Sally?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't think I've ever seen a man that huge before."
"…Me neither."
Robert clicked his tongue. "Or someone that strong. Hah. It's ridiculous. He could probably bench a car."
"…I can't argue with that."
"That was definitely the scariest thing I've experienced. Man, my limbs are still shaking." He gripped his knees. "…Weren't you… afraid, at all?"
Sally looked down at her trembling legs. "Oh, I was terrified. In fact," she paused, feeling the thrumming in her ears. "I can still hear my heartbeat. I don't think I've ever been this reckless in my life."
"…Then why?" Robert glanced up from his lap. "Why do all of this."
"…I guess, it's because you and your daughter needed help."
The man widened his eyes. "That's it?" He gestured with his hand, incredulous. "What about compensation? You just risked your life, for a stranger no less. You could at least ask for… something."
Sally offered a wry smile. "Compensation? For doing what is right?
Robert stared at her. "So, that's it?" He snorted, looking away, staring at the reflection of their exhausted forms. A chuckle escaped him. And then it bubbled into laughter, echoing through the empty carriage.
Sally shrugged.
Eventually, he calmed down, his amusement fading into the rhythmic lull of the subway. "…If you say so." Robert felt for his pocket. "…Do you have your phone? I think mine broke when I fell."
Sally shook her head. "Nope. I kept it in my handbag. Dropped it at Grand Central."
"Then we get off at the next stop, get a new phone, and I'll make some calls to those who could help with the search." The man paused in contemplation. "From there on, we get a car and cover as many of the possible routes that lead to Long Island. You can drive, right?"
"Yeah, I can take the wheel."
As the metro began to slow and the pale lights of the station flickered through the glass, the duo finally sagged against their seats.
"…Well then," the brunette breathed out. "Let's hope for the best."
Lacy stepped timidly from the subway at the Port Jefferson station, her small, fragile form dwarfed by the emptiness of the open platform. The end of the line, yet the start of an arduous journey for the four-year-old. On her arm, in faded ink, was the address written by her father in his desperate act to guide her.
The girl found herself momentarily lost in the suburban landscape, her wide blue eyes taking in the sparsely placed houses in a mix of awe and fear, the lack of metropolitan industriousness an unfamiliar blow to her confidence. She approached a large map of the subway, straining her neck as she tried to decipher the maze of colored lines hanging high above her head. Her lips moved silently, tasting words foreign to her young mind.
"Need help, sweetie?" A woman's voice gently broke her concentration, her eyes warm and inviting. Lacy jumped, heart racing; she remembered her father's warnings. With a small shake of her head, she stepped back, retreating under the worried gaze of the stranger.
Venturing out into the streets, the girl shivered. There was no incessant honking of cars nor the backdrop of murmuring conversations. Instead, there was an overwhelming hollowness that gnawed at her senses. She moved with hesitant steps, her heart pounding in her chest.
The journey took her through quiet avenues, vacant parks, and low-built houses that gave way to the dipping sun. Yet, the myriad of scenes only blurred into a canvas of melting colors. With tears that threatened to spill, she wandered almost aimlessly with only a vague but familiar tug on her heart. It was a warmth that reminded her of roses and daffodils, reminiscent of a memory long forgotten, leading the girl despite her helpless meandering.
At one point, a tall man in a business suit nearly collided with her. He halted just in time, his briefcase swinging dangerously close.
Lacy froze in fear, the encounter chipping away at her dwindling courage.
"Wow, watch out there, kiddo."
"S-sorry…"
The man disappeared into the crowd.
Lacy stared at the empty space where he had stood.
As the girl lifted her head, she caught a glimpse of her foggy reflection in a storefront window—a small, vulnerable figure in a vast, intimidating world stared back. The tranquility left her ears tender and exposed, every chirp of a bird, rustle of leaves, and the occasional distant bark of a dog was like a stab at her mind.
A car sped by, making her jump, and the girl was on her way again, following the nostalgic scent of roses and daffodils.
"Yeah, she's just a kid, about four years old. Blonde hair, blue eyes, wearing a white dress and black leather shoes," The man spoke into his new phone for the dozenth time.
Sally navigated the sleek SUV through the city's bustling avenues as her eyes panned around, scanning the pedestrians and peering into alleyways. Beside her, Robert was deep in conversation, enlisting acquaintances in the search for his daughter.
Her mind drifted back to the events of the past hour. They had aimed for the nearest phone dealership the moment they were off the subway. Robert, with an air of accustomed ease, had purchased a top-of-the-line phone at the bustling store. The ease of the transaction underscores the difference in their lifestyles.
Immediately, they were off, a beeline towards the closest car rental, Sally resumed her role as Robert's crutch, while the man started making a flurry of calls to anyone he trusted enough to help.
The car paused before a red light. A mother led her daughter across the street, their hands clasped firmly together as the child skipped from one strip of the crossing to the next.
Sally watched them from behind the wheel, her search for Lacy interrupted as she was reminded of her own child, waiting for a mother who wouldn't show up. Her daughter dreaded school—especially with how most teachers labeled the girl as a troublemaking rascal. Would the girl be alright, waiting in place that she refused to spend a second longer?
Robert's voice pulled the woman back from her thoughts. He had ended another call, his expression one of frustration mingled with concern. "No news yet," he said, his gaze meeting Sally's. "But we've got more people looking out for her now."
"…So, to Brooklyn then?" Sally glanced at the setting sun. "And from there, Long Island?"
"Yeah, the others are covering the rest." He then handed her the spare phone. "Here. To contact your family. This might go well into the night."
Sally accepted the device with a quiet thank you and dialed the number for Percy's school. Her voice was a mix of apology and concern as she spoke to the administrator. "Hello? This is Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson's mother… Yes, would you—"
She pursed her lips. Sad, beautiful, green eyes gazed up at her.
"…Would you please tell Percy I'll be late…"
The other end of the line sounded confused.
"…No… I won't have to speak to him, it's fine if you just passed the message along… thank you…"
"Percy Jackson?"
"Y-yeah, th-that's me."
Rachel tilted her head as the boy seemed to shrink into himself, sneaking a glance at her before quickly cutting his gaze back towards the newly arrived teacher.
"I need to have a word with you," declared the stern-looking woman while holding the door.
"O-oh, okay…" Her new friend seemed oddly fixated on the floor as he dragged himself past the rows of desks.
"Let's speak outside." The teacher turned around.
"B-but… um, I don't remember doing anything this time…"
"You're fine, Percy," said the woman, before nodding at Rachel, and returning to the boy with a gentle smile. "…Nothing of those sorts. Just a message."
"…O-Oh!" The boy beamed, suddenly rejuvenated. Glowing like a tiny lamp and bouncing in confident steps, he marched out the door closing door. "Aha! I knew it, I'm not in trouble again!"
"No, not this time."
"Okay!"
Rachel couldn't contain herself, her voice rang like tiny bells, carrying through the warm shafts of afternoon light.
"Ah." Percy snapped his head around—a deer caught in the headlights. "…A-Aha! I, u-uh, I mean, what?! Of course i-it was just a normal talk! I, u-um, yeah, I n-never get in trouble! Ha, haha—"
"Quickly, Percy." The teacher urged from the hallways.
"—Haha, ha… yeah, um, I-I'm coming!"
The door clicked shut behind Percy, leaving Rachel to her thoughts as she tried to stifle a giggle at his antics. She picked up her colored pencils and started doodling on the corner of her homework, her mind wandering to what the message could be about.
It wasn't long before the door swung open again, and Percy shuffled back into the classroom, his head hung a little lower than before.
"What's up, Percy? Did the teacher say something?"
He scuffed a shoe against the floor. "Uh, it's just... my mom's going to be late picking me up."
Rachel's eyes widened with concern. "Oh no, are you okay with that?"
Percy shrugged. "I guess. It's just kinda weird, not knowing when she'll be here."
Her heart brimming with empathy, Rachel blurted out, "You can hang out with me until she comes! We can read or draw or something!"
A fleeting smile crossed Percy's face. "Thanks, that'd be... that'd be good."
As he sat down, Rachel's mind raced with a more exciting plan. "Wait! You should totally come over to my house! We have the best food, and we have loads of games. It'll be so much fun!"
Percy's eyes darted up, a flicker of anxiety in them. "I dunno, Rachel. I should probably just wait here for my mom."
But Rachel was already on a roll, her excitement bubbling over. "Oh, come on, Percy! It'll be like a mini-adventure. We can pretend we're on a quest, and my house is the grand palace at the end! Plus, my driver can take us! It's super easy!"
"But, Rachel, I... I should call my mom first, and... and I don't have any of my stuff with me..."
Rachel waved off his concerns with a flourish of her hand. "You can call her from my place! And you don't need stuff for a playdate. It'll be awesome, I promise!" Before Percy could muster another excuse, Rachel grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door. "It's settled then—you're coming over!"
In the dimming light, Lacy's tiny silhouette pressed on through the thickening woods, her only guide the fading scent of roses and daffodils that danced just out of reach. The shadows grew long and menacing, turning friendly saplings into gnarled specters reaching out with crooked fingers. Every rustling leaf and snapping twig was a monster lurking, waiting, watching.
Her breath came in short gasps, misting in the cool air as the darkness wrapped around her like a blanket. Lacy tried to be brave, tried to remember her father's words, his stories of heroes and adventures, but they seemed distant, like echoes in a dream.
A rabbit burst from a bush, its sudden movement sending Lacy tumbling backward with a startled cry. She landed hard, her hands sinking into the soft earth, the cold soil clinging to her fingers. Tears pricked her eyes, not just from the fear, but from the overwhelming sense of vastness of the world.
She sat there for a moment, her heart pounding a wild rhythm against her ribs, as if it too sought escape from this place.
A sudden, sharp crack in the darkness startled her. Her heart skipped a beat as her imagination conjured images of something lurking just beyond sight. Panic surged through her small body, and without a thought, she scrambled up, making a blind dash away from the sound, plunging deeper into the unfamiliar woods.
Branches snagged at her clothes as she ran, thorns scraping her skin. Lacy's breath came in ragged pants as she stumbled over roots that seemed to twist and rise against her. The forest had come alive, and it was not kind. She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes, but she dared not stop, dared not let whatever was behind her catch up.
The terrain grew wilder, the forest denser. Lacy's feet could barely keep up with her need to flee, and the ground beneath her seemed to shift and betray her with every step. Her mind screamed for her to keep going, to find light, to find safety, but her body was reaching its limit.
Suddenly, the ground disappeared beneath her feet. She tumbled down a small embankment, rolling helplessly before coming to an abrupt stop at the base of a large tree. Pain radiated through her body, sharp and insistent.
The girl lay there, desperate and erratic gasps the only sound in the darkness, as she tried to catch her breath, tried to convince herself she was still alive.
The forest was eerily silent now, the only sound her own heavy breathing and the distant, gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. With effort, Lacy crawled towards the tree, her small form shaking uncontrollably. She wedged herself into the space where the roots formed a natural hollow, her tiny body curled into a ball.
Slowly, the night was filled with her unbridled string of choking.
The tears came, hot and uncontrollable. She sobbed erratically into the darkness, each cry a mix of fear, pain, and utter exhaustion. The rose-scented beacon was fainter now, and finally, she felt completely alone, as even the companionship of nostalgia abandoned her.
Lacy's cries eventually subsided to whimpers as exhaustion took over. She clenched her eyes shut and let her thoughts drift towards something distant. Her mind sought a sanctuary away from the helpless reality that suffocated her. As she painfully tucked her legs against her chest and hugged her exhausted and aching body, an echo whispered in the back of her head—one that promised hope.
Her mind, seeking respite, began to weave a sanctuary from threads of distant memories.
And the young girl reached for it.
In the cozy classroom, where the hum of the day's lessons still lingered in the air, the red-haired boy opened a large, illustrated book. The cover sparkled with the image of a brave hero, and Lacy, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, looked on with wide-eyed anticipation.
She allowed herself to sink further into the warm embrace of the memory.
"…Wow, the hero is so cool!" Lacy bounced on her cushion at the conclusion of the story. "Being the hero sounds so fun! I also want to be a hero!"
Amber eyes turned to study her with a careful intensity.
"E-Emiya?" Lacy couldn't help but blush under his gaze. "H-hey…"
"…You know, being a hero isn't always as fun as it seems in the stories. It's a lot of hard work and... well, it can get pretty dirty."
She reminisced on the sense of safety and comfort by his side.
"—Ew, greasy walls?" Lacy's face twisted in distaste.
"Of course, and don't forget, they have to eat whatever they find on the road. Sometimes that means cold soup or even..." The girl spied the corner of his mouth almost twitching upwards. "Slimy frog legs."
"…I don't think I'd like eating frog legs," she mumbled, her face showing her dismay.
"On the other hand," Emiya offered with a ghost of a smile, "the princess lives a comfortable life in a clean castle. She has beautiful gowns, attends grand balls, and yes, she finds her own love. The hero may save her, but, one day, she will find a charming prince—the kind that's in all the best stories."
Lacy perked up a bit at this. "…Wow… that is nice!" she said, a dreamy note in her voice as she considered being saved by the hero and marrying a prince and living happily ever after. She let herself go within these fantasies.
That was why, when the soil crunched faintly behind her, it failed to rouse the young girl from her trembling form.
Emiya stood up from his cushion, the book tucked to his side. "Both the hero and the princess have important roles. It's just that their adventures are... different."
Lacy nodded slowly; her eyes shined as she pictured the allure of a princess's life. "I think I'd like to be the princess then... and let the hero do the messy stuff!"
Emiya chuckled. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea."
Lacy's eyes grew wide at his response—a gentle and subdued smile. It felt like the blossoming of sunshine in her chest, yet, for reasons she couldn't comprehend, she clutched at the aching tugged on her heart. In that instant, it occurred to the girl that this was the first time, and perhaps the only time, that she would ever see a real smile from the boy, unaltered by a hollow shell that even he did not realize.
But she carefully set aside the swirling mess of thoughts and emotions, stowing them away, waiting for the day when she will finally be able to understand them. For now, she would enjoy this moment.
So, when he reached down to tap her head gently…
…Lacy couldn't hide the grin that stretched across her dirt-smeared cheeks.
The gentle breeze that licked her face stopped—shielded by a familiar warmth. The little girl let herself drift closer to the realm of sleep. In that hazy threshold of consciousness, she felt the fleeting touch of a warm hand rest upon her nape, as if reaching out from a dream. Lacy mumbled as she tried to grasp it, but a pulse ran through her body from that hand, easing her shivering form.
As she felt the softness of blankets wrap around her, her world fizzled into a blissful quietness.
"Whatcha reading, Lacy?" one boy asked, his tone teasing as he poked at the book.
"Can I see?" another chimed in, reaching out to grab at the pages.
Around her, the buzz of her classmates swirled, a tornado of youthful energy that seemed galaxies away from the stillness of her struggle. Lacy's brow furrowed as she tried again to anchor the letters, to find the story hidden in the scramble. But her concentration broke like a fragile shell as a group of boys, drawn like moths to her, descended upon her retreat.
Lacy's cheeks flushed with frustration, the beginnings of tears threatening to breach her defenses. She wanted to shout, to flee, but the words and the path were blocked by a wall of innocent yet suffocating admiration.
Just as the pressure built toward its breaking point, a shadow fell over her, and the boys' chatter ceased. Lacy looked up, her vision blurred by unshed tears, to see auburn hair and amber eyes. She had seen him before, Emiya, a solitary figure often lost in his own world of books and thoughts, never quite mingling with the rest of the class.
With a calm that seemed almost otherworldly in the preschool tumult, Emiya addressed the boys with a gentle authority that belied his four years. "She's reading. Let's play over there and give her some space, okay?"
The boys drifted away, leaving Lacy in a sudden and unexpected peace. She sniffled, wiping away a tear that had dared to escape, and watched as Emiya sat down beside her, his presence a quiet balm to her frazzled nerves.
Without a word, he picked up the discarded picture book and opened it. "Do you want me to read it to you?" he asked, his amber eyes meeting hers and it felt like the first warm day after a long winter.
Lacy nodded, mute with gratitude, as Emiya began to read. His words were clear and steady, weaving the pictures into a tale that she could finally understand. The story came alive in his voice, the heroics and adventures leaping from the page and dancing around them in the golden light of the afternoon.
For Lacy, the world righted itself in that moment and all those that will come after it. The letters that once taunted her now formed into the most wonderful story, all because he had taken the time to translate them into speech. It was a gesture of the purest of goodwill, a moment of connection that etched itself into the fabric of her young memory.
As he read, the classroom around them faded, the jeers and the chaos melting into a backdrop for the narrative Emiya spun—becoming something far away.
The turn of pages merged into the reality of swaying leaves. The golden light of the afternoon seemed to dim into a flickering glow on the horizon of the blackened night, and the voice of Emiya, rich with the cadence of the tale, faded into the whisper of wind.
Lacy's eyes fluttered open, and she found herself under the vast canopy of a starry sky. Her body was nestled at the base of a tree that opened to a field of grass. As she stirred, stumbling absentmindedly towards the orange glow over the lush hill, a large blanket slipped from her shoulders and pooled around her legs.
The girl stared at the item in bewilderment, her foggy mind trying to make sense of how she had acquired it. Lacy shivered as the wind broke her out of her musings. Instinctively, she snatched the oversized blanket from the ground and wrapped it around her entire small frame.
"Ah." Lacy marveled at how her fingers sunk into the texture.
She hurriedly gathered more of it into her hands before burying her head into the pile, nuzzling her face into the dwindling heat of the fabric that seeped into her bones, wallowing in the sense of safety it provided, like a lingering embrace. For a moment, the little girl stood still as she clung to the bundling cloth that spilled around her, savoring the fading tendrils of her dream.
Then, with a deep breath, she began to shuffle toward the crest of the hill. The orange glow beckoned her, a beacon in the night promising warmth and safety. Her small hands gripped the blanket tightly as she followed the ever-building scent of roses and daffodils towards the nearing light, each step tentative in the dark.
Lacy sucked in a breath, her pupils dilating.
The horizon was alive with moving shapes—pairs of teenagers clad in glinting armor, their figures anointed by the warm, dancing light of torches that cut through the darkness like beacons, casting elongated shadows that twisted alongside their bearers. The torches' firelight reflected off polished breastplates and helmets, turning them into molten gold in the gloom. Lacy could see the weapons in their hands—a sword here, a spear there—each one catching the light and gleaming with an otherworldly glow.
The rhythmic clinking of armor grew louder as two of the patrols noticed her dazed figure and began their descent down the hill. The sound was a symphony of metal and purpose, the straining and bending of leather armor accompanying every measured step they took. Lacy could hear the soft rustle of their tunics, the murmur of their voices exchanging words shrouded in the reverence of the night.
Her heart raced, each beat echoing the pounding in her ears as the pair drew near. The nearer they came, the more intense the heat from their torches became, washing over her in waves that made the cool night air retreat.
The torches' flames caught in the pair's eyes, igniting them with a fierce amber spark that seemed to peer right through Lacy's very soul. The sound of their approach was a measured cadence—a drumbeat that heralded her arrival to this place out of time, this threshold between worlds.
As they reached her, the world seemed to hold its breath—the only sounds were the crackling of the torches and the soft exhale of the night breeze. The reflections of the flames danced across Lacy's face, casting her features into stark relief, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe.
"Who goes there?" called out one of the figures, a girl with a voice that carried both authority and concern.
Lacy stopped, her grip on the blanket tightening. She could only stare as they approached, her mouth dry, words failing her. The weapons they held—a gleaming dagger and a polished sword—were unlike anything she'd seen outside of storybooks.
"I... I'm Lacy," she managed to whisper in a tremoring voice.
The two demigods exchanged a glance before the older girl spoke up. "What are you doing out here all by yourself? Are you a demigod?"
"D-Demi?"
The girl patrol lowered her weapon slightly, her expression softening. "It means you might be one of us. Someone with a godly parent," she explained, her gaze kind but assessing.
Lacy's mind spun, the term 'demigod' bouncing around her head like a puzzle piece that she couldn't place. Overwhelmed by the situation, she felt her legs wobble, the edges of her vision blurring with the weight of exhaustion and fear.
The shorter patrol stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. You're safe with us. Let's get you up the hill and sort this out."
As they guided her, Lacy's knees almost gave out, but she found strength she didn't know she had. And then, as they reached the crest of the hill, a warm, radiant light enveloped her. Lacy squeaked, staring down at her small frame that was swathed in a pink hue.
Gasps and murmurs broke out among the figures now gathering around her. "She's been claimed," someone said in awe.
Lacy, hands fumbling over her body that was still wrapped in her blanket, came to a halt as a sense of belonging washed over her in the wave of gentle light. The confusion remained, but it was now tempered by a budding realization of reassurance and a strange sense of coming home.
The taller girl, the first of the patrol to greet her, leaned down towards Lacy. As she moved forward, away from the glaring glow of the torch behind her, her beautiful features—glistening blue eyes and lush flowing black hair—unaltered by the dancing contrasts of light and shadows, were unveiled under the starry night.
Lacy almost hummed at the loving caress stroking her head. With a kind smile, the older girl's melodious voice sang with a soft charm that eclipsed the drone of the gathering crowd. "My name is Silena, Silena Beauregard. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, sister."
The moonlight sifted through the leaves, coloring Emiya's face in spots of pale light and overlapping shadows.
He clicked shut his phone and frowned.
Rachel still hasn't replied.
Emiya looked back up to see the pink glow around Lacy fade as the two demigods who first found the small girl escorted her away from the growing onlookers.
He tucked away his phone and leaned back against the trunk, his eyes wandered absentmindedly over the marble structures scattered further down the valley, illuminated in a pallet of pulsing gold and coppery orange by torches and campfires.
Before long, the thudding of hurried steps reached his ears, and through the foliage, he saw the figures of a man and a woman emerge into the clearing. They were breathless, their eyes darting around the campers stationed on the hill, searching desperately for a familiar face as they approached the armed teens.
Their voices carried the unmistakable tone of urgent parents—a mixture of fear, relief, and demanding authority. The campers, clad in armor and bearing the glow of torchlight, met them with a guarded posture, but as words were exchanged, their stances softened, understanding blooming in the midst of confusion.
There was a pause in the dialogue, a tension that stretched out like the final moment before dawn broke. Then, with a respectful nod, one of the campers turned and disappeared back into the throng of bodies.
Moments later, Lacy reemerged, her small hand held by the camper who had retrieved her. The large blanket still draped around her, trailing on the ground like the train of a queen in a child's fairytale.
When the little girl's eyes found her father, she broke into a run, and the blanket fell away, forgotten. Her tiny legs carried her as fast as they could until she crashed into his open arms.
In the wooded threshold skirting the expanse of Half-Blood Hill, the air shimmered like the surface of a still lake disturbed by a gentle breeze. A vortex of petals spun around in a pastel maelstrom. From the heart of this subtle disturbance emerged a woman of unearthly beauty, grace, and elegance. She stepped forward, the ground barely daring to mar her divine heels, her sundress swaying gracefully as it settled in the backdrop of drifting flowers.
Aphrodite's thoughts were a tapestry woven from concern and intrigue, pondering the mysterious leap her daughter had taken, bridging vast distances with an ease that would have taken the girl until morning to cross. With each delicate step, she ensured that not a speck of the forest floor's imperfection touched her, her attention focused on the enigma that had spirited Lacy away to the sanctuary of the camp.
Her eyes darted between the trees and underbrush, seeking the thread of fate that had guided Lacy so swiftly. It couldn't have been more than a dozen steps before she found what she had come for.
The goddess paused where she was.
Staring back at her, hundreds of steps away—past the crisscross of trees, branches, and foliage—was the tranquil gaze of golden orbs illuminated under the dancing moonbeam. Her eyes sparkled in wonder at the exquisite features she had stumbled across.
A boy, one unlike any she had observed, that much she could deduce.
It was only during times like these that Aphrodite, from the bottom of her heart, appreciated the moon's magnificent ability to cast such wonderous highlights on those amber eyes—truly, the only value found in the existence of that good-for-nothing virgin goddess. Without those shafts of light, she would have overlooked his presence.
In that fleeting instant, she studied the calmness in those amber pools, marred only by a slight twinge of annoyance, as if he found her presence an unwelcome distraction.
Nuh-uh~ She would have none of that attitude.
"Ah, hello there," smiled the goddess. No one could resist her brilliance; let alone the magnificent allure of the smile she threw into her introduction.
Oh~ The efforts she was making, they moved even herself. Her toes curled in giddiness. She had him now.
"I'm Aphrodite—"
Then, without a word, the boy turned away.
"Ah."
The tree under his foot, from the leaves down to the trunk, trembled as he hurtled into the darkness.
"…Hold on—Stop! Stand where you are, boy!"
Btw, saw this come up a lot, even after the explanation I posted in the comments section, but even 3rd POV can have perspectives, that's why Percy is referred to as a "he" by those who don't know that she is a girl. If the 3rd POV was in Percy's perspective, then it would be "she".
Anyway, thanks for reading.
Cheers.