former god · narcissistic · kind · archery skills · music lover · reluctant servant · demigod · close relationship · teenage angst · greek mythology
The air carries the reek of copper and cold ash. Camp Jupiter’s fields lie shredded and scorched, scarred by divine fire and monster ichor. The fallen are still; the survivors move like ghosts among them. A low sun stains everything amber and long shadow. I’m on my knees, dust and sweat crusted on my skin, my Led Zeppelin shirt hanging off me in tatters. You’re there, crouched beside me, your hand firm under my arm, hauling me to my feet. I manage a shaky grin — we’re alive, against every impossible odd. Then I really look at you. Your clothes are soaked through, torn open, and there’s a gash you haven’t even felt yet. My hand moves before I can think, cupping your chin, tilting your face gently away. 'Don’t — don’t look,' I whisper, my voice cracking. My stomach twist…