6. A mission for Percy.
At the end of the day, as the sun set and a warm golden light spread across the camp, Damian already felt a little better. The dizziness had faded, and the discomfort was now just a vague memory. He wasn't fully healed yet, but he felt ready to move forward. Tomorrow would be another day, and perhaps it would be the one where he found his place—not in a rush to prove anything, but with the awareness that the journey was long and that, eventually, he would find his way.
The time following his physical collapse was different for Damian. Not only did his body need to recover, but his mind, stretched too taut for too long, found solace in the ability to finally slow down. The Hermes cabin took care of him, like a family that never left anyone behind, even when it wasn't asked for. Simon and the other kids, though rowdy and full of energy, had learned to respect his space, letting him rest whenever he needed. It was a kindness Damian hadn't expected but silently appreciated.
Annabeth, who had watched him with concern since his arrival, didn't just stand by. One day, she approached him while he rested in the shade of a tree. "Come on, Damian," she said with a reassuring smile. "I'll teach you how to draw. You know, it has its perks. It helps you focus, and you can express things you can't put into words."
Damian looked up at her, intrigued by the suggestion. "Draw?" he asked, his voice still low but curious.
"Yes, I'll teach you to sketch. It's like a form of meditation. It'll help you relax and focus on what really matters. And besides, every demigod has their way of expressing themselves. This could be yours," Annabeth replied, sitting down next to him with a sketchpad and pencil.
Damian, initially hesitant, agreed. He wasn't sure what he could possibly draw, but the idea of focusing on something other than the chaos of his world was appealing. He took the pencil in hand and began to trace uncertain lines. Annabeth watched carefully, occasionally adjusting his hand position or the shape of the lines, but never forcing him.
"Don't worry," she said gently. "It doesn't have to be perfect. Just let your hands do what they want."
As the days passed, Damian found that this simple, quiet practice genuinely helped him clear his mind. Each line, every small stroke on the paper, seemed to lighten his burden, as if the pencil was a tool to release the dark thoughts and fears that had built up inside him. He didn't do it for others, but for himself.
Even Gray, who had always been by Damian's side, occasionally joined them, bringing a sense of calm. He was less focused on monitoring Damian as before and more on letting him find his rhythm. He often spoke to Damian in a calm tone, as if trying to convey a serenity Damian had never known.
"Take all the time you need," Gray would say, watching him intently as he sketched. "There's no rush. There's no urgency."
Though still as quiet as ever, Damian began to feel more at ease with the routine he was building. Gradually, the training camp, which had once seemed to him like pure chaos, started to feel like a place where he could be himself, even if he didn't always have the words to express it.
His fever had subsided, and his body was recovering, but more importantly, he was beginning to understand that there was nothing wrong with taking his time, with going at his own pace. He didn't have to prove anything to anyone—not even his divine parents, who still felt distant.
One afternoon, while sitting under the tree with Annabeth, sketching, Damian felt a weight lift off his chest. The drawing he was creating wasn't perfect, but it was his. And for the first time since his arrival, he felt, in a way, at peace.
The calm and serenity Damian had started to build around himself were abruptly interrupted by news everyone seemed to dread but that, inevitably, arrived: a prophecy. Everything began with Percy Jackson, who was no longer just a lost boy in the world of demigods. Poor Percy, always at the center of chaos, found himself accused of stealing Zeus's lightning bolt. An accusation that, as incredible as it seemed, was quickly spreading among the camp's ranks.
Damian's heart raced as he listened to the story. How could they blame Percy for something so grave when he'd only just discovered who he really was? His thoughts drifted back to his own arrival at camp, when he, too, knew nothing of this world. But Percy, as innocent as he seemed, was already too involved.
Annabeth, always ready to step up and take responsibility, had already made a decision. "I want to be part of the quest," she declared with determination, without hesitation. She knew this would be her chance to prove what she was capable of. Damian watched her in silence, admiring her unwavering resolve.
Chiron, however, didn't seem as thrilled about the idea. "Percy still needs more training," he said in his calm yet firm tone. "He's not ready to take on a quest of this magnitude."
Percy, for his part, didn't seem at all pleased with the idea of waiting. Though he accepted the compromise, Damian could sense that the boy would act impulsively. The idea of staying at camp and training didn't suit him. And, predictably, that night Percy wouldn't stick to the plan.
Meanwhile, Damian was sleeping soundly. It had been a long day, and his tired body had finally granted him a well-deserved rest, even if it meant stealing Simon's bed, who was sleeping farther away, oblivious to everything. But when the quiet of the Hermes cabin was broken by the creak of the door opening, Damian woke, sensing that something was happening.
It was Percy, Annabeth, and Grover, sneaking into the cabin to talk to Luke. Damian, half-asleep, curled up under the blankets, trying not to be noticed, but his curious eyes couldn't help but watch.
Luke, the only one who had faced a similar situation before, looked at the three with a serious expression that promised nothing good. "Don't wake Damian," he said immediately, noticing his presence. "He needs his rest. And you, if you decide to undertake this quest, remember that what awaits you is no game." His voice was grave, but a shadow of concern crossed his face.
Then, without wasting any time, Luke bent down and began distributing the items needed for the mission. Damian, now more alert, watched closely. A bag for Annabeth with a javelin, Luke's Copper Sword, the winged sandals for Grover, and other mysterious objects that might help them along the way. Damian couldn't help but wonder how they would use all of this, but he realized that even as he stayed on the sidelines, there was a part of him that wanted to be part of the adventure.
"See you soon," Luke said with a forced smile. "Be careful. Things are about to get serious."
Percy and Annabeth exchanged a glance, but neither spoke a word. They had a mission to complete. The cabin door closed behind them, leaving Damian in the silence of the night, reflecting on everything that was happening. The sense of disconnection that had always followed him seemed to intensify. He wanted to be part of something, to make a difference. However, another feeling, less defined, was emerging within him: the awareness that every choice, every step, was taking them further from the safety of camp.
Perhaps, Damian thought, he shouldn't have stayed behind. But now, there was no time to reflect. The mission was underway, and who knew what would happen by the next morning. After giving Percy, Annabeth, and Grover some final advice, Luke headed to the area where Damian was resting. When he entered Hermes' cabin, the silence was almost tangible. Damian, wrapped in the warmth of his blankets, seemed to be in a deep sleep. Luke observed him for a moment, worried about his health and how he was coping with everything happening around him. But before stepping closer, he noticed Damian stirring slightly, as if trying to wake up.
When Damian slowly opened his eyes, his gaze was still a bit dazed, and Luke smiled faintly, attempting to hide any worry. "Damian, are you awake?" he asked calmly, knowing full well the boy was pretending not to have heard anything earlier.
Still groggy, Damian made a small effort to appear awake and chose his words carefully. "Did something happen?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent, though his curious gaze betrayed an uneasiness he couldn't entirely hide.
Luke, who had come to understand how sensitive Damian was and how easily overwhelmed he could get by the events around him, responded with a reassuring smile. "Nothing you need to worry about," he said, sitting down beside the bed. "Everything's fine, don't worry. Get some more rest; tomorrow's going to be a long day."
With a gentle gesture, Luke tucked Damian in, almost like an older brother taking care of a younger sibling. "Sleep is the best thing for you right now. There will be tougher days, but today is not one of them. Rest, Damian."
Damian nodded slowly, though his mind was still troubled by the recent prophecy and the mysterious circumstances surrounding Percy and the imminent mission. He didn't want to appear weak, but at that moment, he didn't have the strength to ask more questions. The sound of Luke's voice and the warmth of the blankets lulled him, and his eyes began to close again.
"Thank you, Luke..." he murmured as sleep enveloped him once more. Luke watched him for a moment, his face softening into an expression of serene calm. Perhaps, he thought, Damian was beginning to find a small refuge amid the chaos surrounding the camp and everything about to unfold.
Luke left the cabin quietly, leaving Damian to rest. The boy needed more than just sleep to overcome the fatigue accumulated over the past few days, but there was something deeper within him that needed healing. Luke wondered how much longer it would take before Damian finally joined them. But for now, the boy needed to stay away from the turmoil.
Without Annabeth at camp, Damian's days grew heavy and monotonous. The routine that once seemed reassuring now felt oppressive. Hours spent under the tree, sketching and trying to keep his mind occupied, felt endless. Annabeth, with her passionate way of explaining everything, had always made those moments special. Whenever she showed him something or spoke about the ancient stories of demigods and gods, Damian felt like he was learning something greater than himself, that his place in the world was slowly taking shape. But without her, his drawings turned into mere scribbles, and his thoughts wandered aimlessly.
Gray, the satyr who had welcomed him to camp, was kind and patient, but he couldn't replace the intensity of Annabeth's discussions. Gray was a good companion but lacked the same enthusiasm for teaching or pushing Damian to reflect on deeper matters. His presence couldn't fill the void Annabeth had left. Not that Damian was annoyed with him, but he simply felt that something was missing. His mind, often drawn to the past and his divine parents, became more distracted and less motivated.
In those days of boredom, Damian's thoughts mixed with worries about Percy, the prophecy, and the mysteries beginning to surround the camp. He often wondered what would happen when it was his turn to face his destiny. A part of him knew that, sooner or later, he too would have to make a choice, like Annabeth and Percy, but that moment seemed distant, unattainable.
When the camp was quieter, Damian would retreat to his favorite tree, watching the others train or chat among themselves. Even in those moments of calm, though, the shadow of the prophecy, the voices of the gods, and the weight of uncertainty about his true identity haunted him. He wondered if his divine parent was watching him from somewhere or if they were too far away, caught up in their duties. Damian searched for answers, but all he found was a growing sense of loneliness.
Thankfully, the moments of monotony didn't last forever. Occasionally, Simon or one of the other kids would seek him out, pulling him away from his darker thoughts. Although Damian accepted their company, he felt deep inside that something—or someone—was still missing.