17. Visions.
Damian woke up late in the afternoon, still groggy and haunted by the memory of his nightmare. The usually noisy and chaotic Hermes cabin was unusually quiet, as his companions tried not to disturb him. When he opened his eyes, Simon was seated next to his bed, carving a small piece of wood but glancing at Damian occasionally.
"Finally awake, huh?" Simon said warmly, setting the carving aside. "Annabeth and Chiron came by to check on you, but we told them you needed rest."
Damian stretched slightly, feeling the lingering fatigue in his body. "I'm sorry... I caused trouble for everyone."
Simon shook his head firmly. "Don't say that. Bad dreams are normal, especially for us demigods. And don't worry about the cabin—we've got everything under control. While some are training, others are here keeping an eye on you."
Damian looked down, touched by their care. "You didn't have to do all this for me..."
Simon gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "We're family, Damian. Even if we're messy and chaotic, we look out for each other."
Shortly after, Annabeth entered the cabin with a small bag of chocolate chip cookies. "Chiron told me what happened," she said reassuringly, sitting next to Damian and offering him the cookies. "Don't feel guilty about scaring anyone. We're here for you."
Damian took a cookie, nibbling on it slowly, comforted by Annabeth and Simon's presence. Gray joined them shortly after, carrying an ocarina to lighten the mood. The Hermes cabin rotated shifts, ensuring Damian was never left alone—a gesture that reminded him how lucky he was to have found a home amidst the chaos of Camp Half-Blood.
The visions began appearing suddenly, often while Damian was drawing. As he worked on his sketches, his hand seemed to move on its own, frantic yet precise. The drawings that emerged were detailed and unsettling: scenes of ancient battles, mythical monsters that seemed alive, and fragments of places Damian had never seen before.
The first time it happened, Damian froze, staring at the drawing with his heart pounding. It depicted a battle between a dragon and a group of armed heroes, the details so vivid it felt more like a memory than imagination.
Simon noticed his unease. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, moving closer to look at the sketch. When he saw it, Simon's eyes widened. "Damian... this is incredible but also... terrifying. How did you draw this so quickly?"
Damian shook his head, his hands trembling. "I don't know. It's like it wasn't me... my hands just moved on their own."
When Annabeth was informed, she examined one of the drawings closely. "These aren't just random sketches. They're historical representations," she said seriously. "Some of these events match ancient tales. But how do you know about them?"
Damian couldn't explain. He had never heard of those battles, yet he portrayed them with remarkable accuracy. Every stroke seemed to hold a piece of a forgotten story.
Chiron, alerted to the phenomenon, studied the drawings thoughtfully. "This could be prophetic visions or a connection to memories of a past life," he explained. "Many demigods develop unique abilities, and this might be a manifestation of yours, Damian. Pay attention to everything you draw; there may be valuable clues."
Despite Chiron's reassurances, the visions left Damian exhausted and uneasy. Each time it happened, he felt like he was seeing the world through someone else's eyes. Annabeth helped him catalog the drawings, searching for hidden meanings, while Gray used music to ease the tension those visions brought.
Damian began carrying a small journal, noting every vision and detail he could recall. Though frightened, he knew there was something significant about these drawings—something that might prove crucial in the future.
Thalia had truly committed herself to training Damian with the spear. Despite her impatient and straightforward nature, she seemed intent on teaching him not only the techniques but also how to face a fight. Damian, initially enthusiastic, quickly realized that his teacher was anything but lenient. Every time he tried to dodge Thalia's sharp blade, he ended up closer to the floor than to victory.
When the lesson ended, with Damian sprawled on the ground and his hoodie torn in several places, he quickly sought refuge next to Annabeth, trying to hide behind her. Annabeth looked at him, chuckling, and said, "Don't worry, you just need a bit more practice."
Thalia, with a triumphant smile, said, "You did well, but remember, Damian, fighting isn't just about strength. It's also about cunning." Damian nodded but couldn't help squinting at what seemed to be a rather dangerous spear. "I hope cunning is enough to survive you," he muttered under his breath, trying not to be heard.
Annabeth gave him an understanding smile. "It's not the spear, Damian; it's Thalia's determination. But you'll see—you'll improve quickly."
Damian looked at himself in the mirror, observing his arms marked with bruises and cuts from Thalia's tough lessons. Each day seemed worse, but no one had ever really worried about how hard it was. Annabeth, as always, encouraged him with her usual smile, but there were moments when Damian felt utterly exhausted.
"You know, Annabeth," he said, trying not to let his irritation show, "sometimes it'd be nice if you just kept quiet." Annabeth looked at him, surprised, before bursting into laughter. She knew Damian was trying to act tough, even though his skin told a completely different story.
"I really can't," Annabeth replied with a mischievous grin. "The truth is, you're making incredible progress, but I can see Thalia's spear is driving you crazy."
Damian sighed, glaring at the spear propped up next to the bed—his ever-present training companion that never seemed to leave him alone. "Yeah, because every time I see it, I'm reminded I don't want to die this young," he said sarcastically, though with a forced smile.
"Don't worry, it'll get easier," Annabeth reassured him, still laughing. "And besides, the important thing is you've learned one fundamental lesson: never challenge Thalia when she's holding a spear."
"But don't worry," Damian added, trying to sound more relaxed. "I made Thalia promise she'd buy me a new hoodie—the one she practically shredded."
Damian had begun to notice something strange during his training sessions with Thalia. Every time the spear brushed against his body or she executed a particularly sharp move, he felt a small burst of electricity, as if an invisible energy coursed through the air. Each time she touched him, it felt like his muscles were hit by a slight but irritating jolt.
Once, during a break between training sessions, Damian looked around to make sure no one was watching, then furtively approached Thalia's spear to examine it closely. There, between the gleaming metal and the air that seemed to grow heavier, he began to understand. Thalia was using her thunder power—but she hadn't told him.
"That's not fair!" Damian thought to himself. "Bad Thalia, using your powers against me… It's not right to exploit your godly powers on a kid who's barely six years old."
The next day, during another training session, Damian decided it was time to confront Thalia. He wasn't the type to stay silent, especially when something didn't sit right with him. He stopped during a break and looked Thalia straight in the eye.
"Thalia," he began with a determined voice, "you know that's not fair. You're using your power. The electricity, the jolts—I can't fight against something I can't control."
Thalia stared at him for a moment before smiling, almost amused. "Oh, you noticed, huh? I had no idea you'd pick up on that. But don't worry—it's just a little trick. It helps you focus."
Damian crossed his arms. "I don't need tricks! I want to learn to fight on my own, not with your powers."
Thalia regarded him for a moment and, instead of getting angry, leaned down with a more serious expression. "You're right. Maybe I overdid it a bit. I promise, from now on, no more tricks."
Damian nodded but couldn't help thinking that, even though he had managed to stand up for himself, he would need to keep a close eye on her in the future.
With Percy, Thalia, and Annabeth away on a mission, Damian found himself facing unusually lonely days. Although he was relieved not to endure Thalia's grueling training sessions, he couldn't ignore the emptiness his friends left behind. The days felt longer, and without Annabeth to keep him company or Thalia to tease him, the camp seemed strangely quiet.
Damian threw himself into his routine, trying to fill the sense of solitude. He spent more time drawing, letting the pencil glide across the paper as he tried not to dwell on how much he missed his friends. Still, he couldn't shake the hollow feeling when he saw the other demigods training or having fun together.
Gray and Simon tried to keep him busy, suggesting games or challenges involving the ocarina or archery. But even those activities quickly lost their charm without the familiar presence of Annabeth and Percy. Damian often found himself wandering around the camp, searching for a sense of belonging.
One evening, as he sat alone by the brazier fire, offering something to the gods, he heard Chiron's voice behind him.
"You'll see them again soon, Damian," said the centaur with a gentle smile. "But in the meantime, remember that you're never truly alone. The camp is full of people who care about you."
Damian nodded, trying to find comfort in those words. Despite everything, though, he continued counting the days until Percy, Annabeth, and Thalia returned. He hoped they would bring good news—and maybe a bit of chaos to break the monotony.
Damian stood still, as if the world around him had plunged into a deafening silence. Thalia and Percy's words echoed in his mind: Annabeth… taken… Manticore. He couldn't process them. His eyes, already glistening with restrained tears, betrayed the storm of emotions he was feeling. Fear, anger, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness consumed him.
"What… what do you mean she's been taken?" Damian whispered, his voice breaking.
Percy stepped toward him, trying to offer reassurance, but Damian pulled away, shaking his head. "Why didn't you save her? Why couldn't you protect her?"
Thalia knelt beside him, trying to steady the trembling in his shoulders. "Damian, we did everything we could. It's not your fault, or ours. Annabeth is strong, and we'll do everything we can to bring her back."
Damian wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept falling. "What if it's too late? What if we can't find her? She's… she's the only one who really understands me."
Thalia and Damian were deeply affected by Percy's words. They all knew how much Annabeth meant to him—like an older sister and a patient guide. Percy placed a hand on Damian's shoulder.
"I won't let anything happen to her, Damian. I promise you, we'll bring her back. But we need to stay united and strong for her."
Damian nodded slowly, though his gaze remained fixed on the ground. He knew Percy was sincere, but the pain of Annabeth's absence was almost unbearable. He turned to Thalia.
"Is there anything I can do? I don't want to just sit here while she's in danger."
Thalia studied him for a moment, then sighed, shaking her head. "Damian, it's better for you to stay at camp. It's not safe for you to come with us. But I promise we'll keep you informed, and as soon as we hear anything, we'll let Chiron know."
Damian didn't look entirely convinced but eventually agreed. He felt powerless, but he didn't want to be a burden. Percy and Thalia left him on the porch of the Big House, where he sat for a long time, hugging his knees to his chest and staring into the distance. That night, Damian made another offering to the fire, silently praying to his unknown father to protect Annabeth and bring her back to camp safely.
Damian watched the Hunters of Artemis with a mix of curiosity and unease. Their elegant bows and proud demeanor made him feel slightly intimidated, but he couldn't help admiring them. They weren't just formidable; they radiated an aura of mystery and strength that fascinated him. He often tried to approach them, but the moment one of the Hunters fixed him with an impenetrable gaze, he quickly retreated, returning to observing them from afar.
During meals, he noticed how the Hunters sat at the table dedicated to Artemis, separate from the other demigods. They seemed to exist in a world of their own—untouchable and focused, as if the rest of the camp didn't matter. Damian wondered if it was their bond with Artemis that made them this way or simply their individual personalities. He was tempted to ask questions but didn't dare disrupt their austere atmosphere.