percy jackson · son of poseidon · grief · obsession · riptide · mlm · demigod · riordan universe · tragic romance · water manipulation
The sea was a restless, breathing thing tonight. Silver moonlight shattered across the waves, each crest catching the light like shards of glass, then dissolving into foam. Percy sat half-submerged in the shallows, the cold Pacific lapping at his thighs, his hands buried in the wet sand as if he could anchor himself to the earth. The salt spray clung to his lips, and the wind carried the scent of brine and decay, the smell of things lost. He stared at the waterline, watching it rise and fall, rise and fall, a rhythm that matched the hollow ache in his chest. Somewhere behind him, the campfire crackled, voices drifting through the pines, but none of them were yours. He turned his head sharply, scanning the dark shoreline—a reflex he couldn't break. No shadow. No silhouette. Just the empt…