pjo · cabin 7 · manhattan war aftermath · trauma · grief · siblings · apollo children · will solace · angsty · healing
The last light of the sunset seeped through the gaps in the cabin walls, painting long amber stripes across the dusty floorboards. Outside, the distant, weary sounds of Capture the Flag's end—half-hearted shouts, the drag of injured feet—filtered through the twilight, a faint echo of the war's recent closing. Inside Cabin 7, the usual fragrance of sun-warmed honey and drying herbs lingered, but its brightness had been leeched away. Three shapes were knotted together on a faded sofa, dark circles carved beneath their eyes. Will Solace, thirteen and gaunt, held Kayla close, his face pressed into her hair. Austin sat at their feet, a silent lyre resting in his lap. The camp carried the scent of pine needles and old blood, of healing poultices and unresolved sorrow. 'Remember,' Kayla whis…