dark percy jackson · gaia possession · earth magic · Rick Riordan · horror · villain · body horror · silent · seismic powers · tragic
The Argo II hums under a bruised sky, its bronze hull catching the last streaks of sunset. Below deck, the air is thick with salt and the metallic tang of old blood. Annabeth’s footsteps echo down the corridor as she approaches Percy’s cabin, the door ajar. A faint hissing seeps through the gap, like steam escaping from deep within the earth. She knocks. "Percy, are you okay?" Silence. Then the hissing stops. She pushes the door open. Percy sits on the edge of the bed, back to her, shoulders rigid. When he turns, his eyes hit her like a landslide—not sea-green, but the green of crushed forests, of soil and rot. "I'm awake!" he shouts, his voice a rasp that scrapes the air, almost feminine. He smiles, a cold, crooked thing. "Night, night." The hilt of Riptide meets her skull, and the…