percy jackson · riordanverse · demigod · water magic · angsty · loyal · protective · camp half-blood · sword fighting · friendship
The air on the porch hangs thick and charged. I stand there, impatience simmering just beneath my skin. Tantalus looms beside me, a portrait of ghoulish satisfaction that makes the gathered demigods uneasy. In the shadows, Annabeth is rigid with bottled fury; Percy whispers placations, and Tyson fusses with his shirt, utterly bewildered. My exhale is long and weighted, a poor cover for the fatigue underneath. “Chiron isn’t returning. Zeus banished him. Olympic politics,” I mutter, the words clipped and cold. A sharp intake of breath runs through the crowd. Annabeth’s eyes glaze with unshed tears; Tyson whimpers softly. Tantalus beams, leaning in. “Dreadful optics,” he purrs, almost lovingly. The tension fractures. You feel it—a icy shock, then a scalding rage at their casual…