It's been about two weeks since I met up with Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth. I'm not really sure what to say other than that this place is awesome.
I mean— yeah we're constantly running from place to place, hiding from monsters, police, and a very small dog.
But other than that; this place is a paradise. There's no constantly screaming death portals, twenty foot tall daemons that screech otherworldly curses, I haven't even seen a necron!
The only actual downside is... I am the main cook.
You see, even though Luke and Thalia are the oldest, they can't cook actual food. Luke was surviving off of this stuff called peanut butter and jelly sandwiches till he left his original housing; and Thalia had been living off ramen, stolen food, snacks for way too long to know how to actually "cook".
Annabeth is banned.
The reason I'm the cook —even though I'm the youngest— is because I have made food that tastes good from things that shouldn't be edible. Growing up in the warp the only things there to eat are corpse starch, dead Daemons, your comrades, and sometimes survivors who get too snappy.
That being said, I would absolutely rather cook for these guys instead of fist fighting giants and hiding from those weird grey guys like that one time —I think they were knights?
The monsters are slightly annoying though.
It isn't that they are terrifying — not after everything I'd seen in the Warp — but they are persistent. Like fleas you couldn't shake off, no matter how many times you crushed them.
We'd barely gone a day without some creature crawling out of the shadows to take a shot at us. Some were mindless beasts, all claws and fangs; others seemed smarter, like they were hunting. And after two weeks, I couldn't shake the feeling that Alecto was still out there, watching, waiting.
Right now, though, my biggest problem wasn't a Fury or a monster — it was dinner.
I sat cross-legged by the fire, stirring a dented pot that used to the helmet of a thing Luke called a Laestrygonian giant, Thalia called it a Canadian. Whatever it was, its helmet was being filled with something that vaguely resembled stew. Luke leaned over my shoulder, eyeing the bubbling mess.
"...Is that edible?" he asked.
"Do you want to eat?" I shot back.
Luke backed off, raising his hands. "Just asking."
"Yeah, well," I muttered, giving the stew one last stir, "it's better than whatever you've been trying to call 'dinner.'"
"Hey!" Luke protested. "PB&J is a classic."
"It's barely food," I shot back.
Luke scoffed, but there was no heat to it. Thalia, sitting a little ways off with her boots propped on a log, smirked. "For once, I'm with Khaine. Your sandwiches taste like cardboard."
Luke gave an exaggerated gasp of betrayal. "Et tu, Thalia?"
"Please," she shot back. "If Khaine can make that weird sludge taste halfway decent, I'm not complaining."
"Sludge?" I flicked a bit of stew in her direction. She ducked, laughing.
Annabeth returned from her self-imposed banishment a few feet away, dragging her sleeping bag back toward the fire. She'd been sulking since I banned her from the cooking area after her disastrous attempt to "improve" breakfast with what she called strategic spice ratios. Somehow, she'd turned oatmeal into something that tasted like hot gravel.
"I still say I could've helped," she grumbled, plopping down beside Thalia.
"No," Luke, Thalia, and I said in unison.
Annabeth huffed and crossed her arms.
Satisfied the stew wouldn't kill anyone — or at least that it wouldn't kill us — I ladled out portions. The group dug in with surprising enthusiasm, and I felt an odd warmth in my chest. Back in the Warp, a meal you didn't have to fight for — or fear eating — was rare. Sharing food now felt... good. Like I was doing something useful.
Luke, mid-bite, jabbed his spoon at me. "So, cat-boy, when are you gonna tell us what's up with that?"
I froze. "With what?"
Luke grinned. "The whole... feline thing." He wiggled his fingers. "You always know when someone's sneaking up on us, you land on your feet every time, and I'm pretty sure you purred in your sleep last night."
"I do not purr," I snapped.
"You totally do," Thalia chimed in, a wicked smile curling on her face.
Annabeth, who'd been quietly eating, nodded. "I distracted you with a light made from a mirror when that Lycanthrope attacked us two days ago."
I felt my ears flatten — which, of course, only made them laugh harder.
"It's not funny," I muttered, stabbing at my stew.
"Actually," Luke smirked, "it's hilarious."
I shot him a look that promised violence. He grinned wider, clearly unfazed.
"Hey, if it helps," Thalia added between bites, "it's probably the reason you keep hearing things before the rest of us. You've got some kind of sixth sense or something. It's... freaky. But useful."
I wasn't sure how to take that. Compliment? Insult? Both?
"Well... whatever," I muttered, deciding my stew deserved more attention than the conversation. At least stew didn't make fun of me.
For a few minutes, we ate in peace — or as peaceful as things got when Luke and Thalia were around. Luke kept trying to sneak an extra portion when he thought I wasn't looking, and Thalia "accidentally" knocked over a bottle of water every time he got close.
"Seriously?" Luke muttered as Thalia gave her most innocent smile, nudging his elbow just enough to spill another splash of water across his sleeve.
"Must be the wind," Thalia said, not bothering to hide her grin.
Luke scowled, muttering something about "chaotic little goblins" under his breath, before leaning back against the wall of the abandoned building we'd hunkered down in. It wasn't much — cracked windows, vines creeping through the gaps in the stone, and half a roof — but it was dry, and that was good enough.
"Don't even think about it," I warned as I caught Luke's hand creeping toward the pot again. He froze, like a kid caught sneaking cookies. His guilty grin didn't fool me.
"Fine," he huffed, flopping back down.
The fire crackled, filling the silence. For once, things felt... calm. No monsters, no frantic running, no panicked whispers about where we'd sleep or if we'd have to fight something off tonight. Just warmth, food, and quiet.
"You really don't talk much about where you're from," Thalia said suddenly. Her voice was casual, but I could tell she'd been waiting to ask.
I kept my eyes on my stew. "Not much to talk about."
"C'mon," Luke chimed in, his voice lighter. "You've gotta have some stories. Even Annabeth tells us about her weird architecture obsession."
"It's not an obsession," Annabeth muttered around a mouthful of food.
Thalia ignored her. "Yeah, but seriously, Khaine — Cadia, right? What was it like?"
I shifted uncomfortably. Memories tried to bubble up — the cold gray walls, the endless drills, the constant roar of artillery. The faces — grim, hollow-eyed soldiers who barely looked human anymore. And then... the fire. The screams. The Warp.
"It's... not like this," I said carefully. "Cadia was... harsh. You either learned to fight or you died."
I could feel their eyes on me, but I kept my gaze locked on the fire.
"Well, you're good at fighting," Luke said. "So... I guess you learned."
I snorted. "Yeah. Something like that."
Another pause. Luke glanced at Thalia, then back at me. "So... what's with all the cat stuff?"
I groaned. "Not this again."
"Hey, I'm serious!" Luke laughed, grabbing his golf club from where it rested against the wall. "I've seen you do things that shouldn't be possible. That jump you pulled when that empousa jumped us last week? No way a normal person pulls that off."
"It's... instinct," I muttered. "I don't know. It's just normal for me."
"It's still weird," Thalia said, but she didn't sound unkind.
"It's probably like those weird blessings the gods give sometimes," Luke said, resting his golf club across his knees. "Could be you're touched by one of them."
"Blessing?" I repeated. "I'm pretty sure growing up in the Warp doesn't count as being blessed."
Luke's face scrunched up. "Yeah... you keep mentioning that. The Warp. What is that?"
I hesitated, feeling my chest tighten. How was I supposed to explain something like that?
"It's... complicated," I said, my voice quieter. "It's not like your monsters or your gods. It's... bigger. Worse."
That earned me a frown from Thalia. "Worse than a Hydra trying to eat you?"
I gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah. Worse."
Luke seemed to sense I didn't want to talk about it, so he shifted the conversation. "Well, since you don't know much about our weird stuff, maybe it's time you learned."
I blinked. "Learned what?"
"The Greek stuff," Thalia said. "You know — Zeus, Hera, Hades, the Gods."
"Zeus?" I repeated, rolling the word on my tongue like it might bite me. "That sounds... a lot like 'heresy.'"
Luke snorted, nearly choking on his stew. "Well, you're not wrong," he muttered under his breath. Thalia shot him a sharp look, but he just grinned and shrugged.
"He's our... king of the gods," Annabeth explained, choosing her words carefully. "Lord of the sky, ruler of Mount Olympus. Pretty much the most powerful god there is on Olympus."
"Most powerful," Thalia scoffed. "Yeah, right."
I glanced between them, sensing something deeper than just casual frustration. Thalia's face had that tight, bitter look she'd get whenever she was brooding — which was often.
"You don't like him?" I asked.
"Let's just say Zeus isn't exactly 'Father of the Year,'" Thalia muttered, her voice low.
Luke jumped in, probably to steer the conversation away from whatever was brewing in Thalia's head. "The Greek gods are basically this big dysfunctional family — power-hungry, paranoid, and way too dramatic for their own good. Zeus is the one in charge... supposedly."
"Supposedly?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Well..." Luke jabbed his golf club toward Thalia. "Technically, she's his daughter."
I blinked. "You're Zeus' kid?" I asked Thalia.
"Don't get excited," she said flatly. "It's not exactly something I brag about."
I frowned, confused. "Isn't that... a good thing? If he's powerful and all?"
"You'd think," Thalia muttered darkly.
"Zeus broke an oath," Annabeth cut in, her voice softer. "He swore — along with Poseidon and Hades — that they wouldn't have any more demigod kids. Their children were... too powerful. Too dangerous."
I stared at Thalia, trying to imagine her being considered too dangerous. Sure, she was sharp-tongued and fearless, but dangerous? That didn't sit right.
"So... what happened?" I asked.
"My mom," Thalia said, her tone cold and clipped. "Zeus couldn't keep his promises — big surprise — and I ended up being hunted for most of my life because of it." Her hand drifted to her spear resting against the wall. "I got good at running."
I didn't know what to say to that. I knew what it was like to run — but not from gods. Not because of who you were.
"You're lucky," Luke said suddenly, shifting the focus. "If you haven't run into any of the gods yet, you're doing something right."
"Yeah, well..." I muttered, stirring the empty pot. "I wouldn't even know what to look for."
"Trust me, you'd know," Thalia said. "They like to make a scene."
"Like that Fury," Annabeth added. "Alecto? She's one of Hades' servants. There's worse out there — way worse."
I shifted uncomfortably at that. "Worse?" I echoed, flicking my tail — well, not literally, but it sure felt like it sometimes — in annoyance. "What's worse than a shrieking bat-woman with a sword?"
"You'd be surprised," Thalia muttered. She leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. "The Minotaur, hydras, drakons... And the gods? They're not exactly known for their kindness."
"Some are better than others," Annabeth said quickly, shooting Thalia a look.
"Yeah," Luke added with a dry chuckle, "but 'better' doesn't mean nice. They're powerful, dangerous, and usually way too busy being petty to care about anyone but themselves."
I frowned, ears twitching slightly. "Sounds like... daemons," I said, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
Luke tilted his head. "Daemons?"
I paused, choosing my words carefully. "In the Warp... they're... beings of power. All they want is destruction, madness — they'll twist you apart just for fun. But they'll smile while they do it." I shivered, memories threatening to resurface. The whispers... the faces...
"That's... not far off," Luke said grimly. "The gods aren't as bad as that, but some of their followers... yeah, they can be just as bad."
"So... this Hades guy?" I asked. "The one that bat-lady works for — is he one of the bad ones?"
"Not... exactly," Annabeth said carefully. "He's the god of the Underworld. King of the dead."
I stared at her. "You mean, like... Nurgle?"
"The what now?" Luke asked.
"Big... bloated... rot-god. Kinda fond of plagues." I grimaced. "His followers try to hug you to death. It's... unpleasant."
Annabeth's face twisted in disgust. "No," she said firmly. "Hades isn't like that. He's just... cold. Quiet. He's not evil, but... he's not exactly friendly either."
"Just don't mess with him," Thalia muttered. "Or his stuff."
"Yeah," Luke added with a grin. "Especially his Helm of Darkness. Guy's real touchy about that."
I blinked. "He's got a magic helmet?"
"Oh yeah," Luke said, sounding almost impressed. "It makes him invisible. Sneakiest guy on Olympus."
I perked up slightly at that. "Invisible, huh?" I tapped my fingers against the side of the pot. "Might come in handy."
"Don't get any ideas," Thalia warned.
"No promises," I muttered, smirking to myself.
We settled into a comfortable silence after that, the fire crackling as the last embers of our meal faded. Luke leaned back against the wall, his golf club propped across his lap. Thalia closed her eyes, pretending to sleep — though I knew better. She was too tense for that. Annabeth had her nose buried in one of her worn-out books, her fingers tracing the words as her lips moved silently.
I let my gaze drift upward. The stars peeked through the broken ceiling, faint and distant. They weren't like the cold, flickering lights I remembered from Cadia's sky — these were softer, calmer. For a moment, I let myself breathe. No daemons. No screaming storms. No endless war.
"...You okay?" Thalia's voice broke the quiet.
I flicked my eyes toward her. She wasn't looking at me, but her posture had shifted — her arms still crossed, but her fingers tapped a restless rhythm against her elbow.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I'm just... not used to this."
"This?" Thalia asked.
I hesitated, struggling to find the words. "Quiet. Calm. No... screaming or... things trying to crawl inside your skull." I swallowed hard. "It's weird."
"That's not weird," Luke muttered from his spot. "That's called peace."
"Doesn't feel like peace," I said. "Feels like... waiting."
Luke's grin faded slightly. "Yeah," he said. "I know what you mean."
For a while, none of us spoke. The fire popped, and a cool breeze stirred through the cracks in the wall. I shifted, curling my knees to my chest. Instinct, I supposed — make yourself small, stay warm, keep your eyes open.
"You don't have to talk about it," Thalia said suddenly. "But... if you ever want to..." She trailed off, voice softer than usual. "We're here."
I glanced at her, surprised. Thalia wasn't exactly the comforting type — more like 'stab first, comfort later.' But there was no teasing in her voice now, no sharp edge to her words. Just... understanding.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
She gave a short nod, then leaned back again, closing her eyes once more.
I sat there, watching the fire flicker and fade, feeling the warmth of my friends nearby. For once, I didn't feel like I was just waiting for the next fight — or the next nightmare.
For once, I felt... safe.
That didn't last long.
The next morning we realized we forgot to take the stew off the fire.
"No... this can't be..." Luke dramatically wept, grieving for his lost meal. "I could have eaten it still..."
I snorted, watching Luke mourn the charred remains of what used to be our dinner. The pot — or rather, the dented Laestrygonian helmet — was now coated in a black, crusty layer that smelled vaguely like smoke and despair.
"You wouldn't have eaten that," I said flatly, standing up and brushing the dirt off my pants.
"I would have tried," Luke shot back, clutching his chest like I'd just insulted his honor. "I've survived on worse."
"No, you've refused to survive on worse," Thalia muttered, kicking a stray pebble toward him. "Pretty sure you once starved yourself for two days because a gas station hot dog 'looked suspicious.'"
"That hot dog had eyes," Luke argued.
I blinked. "...What?"
"He's not exaggerating," Annabeth chimed in from her corner, rolling up her sleeping bag. "It was just one of those gross mystery meat things, but Luke kept muttering about how it was 'watching him.'"
"It was," Luke insisted. "I know what I saw."
"You know what I see?" Thalia cut in. "Empty packs, no food, and a moron crying over burnt sludge."
"Hey!" Luke barked.
"She's got a point," I said, grabbing my pack and slinging it over my shoulder. "We need supplies."
Annabeth sighed, tucking her book under her arm. "There's a town about five miles south. I saw a sign on my map."
"Think we can get there without something trying to kill us?" Thalia asked.
"No," Luke and I answered at the same time.
"Well, at least we're realistic," Thalia muttered, adjusting the strap of her spear.
We packed up what little we had left — mostly some stale granola bars and half a bottle of water — and started walking. The road was cracked and uneven, overgrown with weeds and littered with rusted street signs. Buildings slumped on either side like forgotten skeletons, windows shattered, walls streaked with grime.
I kept my senses sharp, ears twitching at every creak of wood or scuff of gravel. Luke whistled tunelessly as he walked, golf club resting on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Thalia kept her spear out, eyes scanning the rooftops. Annabeth trailed behind, nose buried in a battered map.
"You know," Luke started, glancing at me, "I still have a question, yesterday you said something about a guy called Nurgle. We have a guy here with a similar name. Though he isn't real. Are there any other "Gods" from where you're from.
Luke's question caught me off guard, and I didn't answer right away.
"Yeah," I said slowly. "A lot of them."
Luke waited, but when I didn't elaborate, he gestured with his golf club like that would somehow drag more words out of me. "And?"
I sighed. "The gods back home aren't like yours. They're... not people. Not really. More like... ideas. Hunger, rage, despair — stuff like that. And they don't just mess with you from a distance." I shivered involuntarily. "If they get inside your head, you're done."
"Sounds like my stepmom," Annabeth muttered.
I gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, except your stepmom doesn't make your blood boil until you claw your own face off."
Annabeth grimaced. "...I'll take my stepmom."
"So... Nurgle," Thalia said. "What's his deal?"
I glanced at Thalia, unsure how much I should say. Memories of bloated corpses and the stench of decay clawed at the edges of my mind. Nurgle's grin — wide and rotting — flashed before my eyes.
"He's... the god of plague," I said finally. "Sickness, rot, all that lovely stuff." I tried to keep my voice light, but the weight of the memories clung to me. "His followers are... devoted. They think his 'gifts' are blessings — boils, fevers, disease that never stops spreading. And if you're unlucky enough to catch his attention... well, he'll keep you alive through it all, just to watch you suffer."
Luke wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting."
"Yeah," I muttered. "He'd probably love your hot dog story."
Luke shot me a glare, but Thalia snorted, breaking the tension.
"So, what? You've got plague gods— what else?" Thalia asked.
I shifted uncomfortably. "There's also Khorne — god of rage and war. He doesn't care who you are, as long as you're killing something."
"Sounds like Ares," Thalia muttered.
I shook my head. "Ares sounds like a schoolyard bully compared to Khorne. His followers... they lose themselves. They fight until there's nothing left — not even themselves."
Luke whistled low. "Remind me not to visit wherever you're from."
"Trust me," I said darkly, "you're better off."
Annabeth cleared her throat, tapping her map. "We can talk about murder gods later. We need food first."
"Agreed," Thalia said. "I'm not surviving on burnt sludge."
We set off down the cracked road, boots crunching on loose gravel. The air was stale, and the buildings sagged like they'd been forgotten for years. Windows were either smashed or coated in grime. A rusted shopping cart lay abandoned in the middle of the street, its wheels twisted.
Luke walked ahead, twirling his golf club lazily, but I knew better — his eyes kept flicking to shadows and broken doorways. Thalia stayed closer to Annabeth, her spear out and ready. The silence wasn't comforting — it felt like something was watching us, waiting for the right moment to strike.
I kept my senses sharp. My ears twitched at faint noises — scuttling rats, a gust of wind shifting debris — but nothing seemed immediate. Still, my skin prickled like I'd been doused in static.
"We're not gonna find much here," Thalia muttered. "If anything lived in this place, it's long gone."
Annabeth squinted at her map. "There's a gas station about a block down. Might still have some snacks — if Luke doesn't burn them this time."
"Ha ha," Luke shot back dryly.
We pressed on, boots crunching on broken glass. A twisted street sign groaned in the wind, hanging by a single bolt. The skeletal remains of a car rusted in the gutter, its tires long deflated. I couldn't help but feel like this place had been... forgotten. The air was stale, like the world itself had moved on without it.
Luke paused ahead of us, raising a hand. "Wait."
I froze instantly, instinct taking over. My fingers twitched toward my knife, and I felt my muscles coil — ready to bolt, strike, or both.
"You hear that?" Luke murmured.
We all strained to listen. A faint, wet wheezing sound echoed from an alleyway up ahead — like something breathing through a clogged pipe.
"Monster?" Annabeth asked quietly.
"Could be a stray," Thalia said, though she didn't sound convinced.
"Let me check it out," I said.
"Khaine—" Thalia started, but I was already moving.
I slipped forward, muscles loose, steps silent. The shadows swallowed me up as I crept toward the noise. I wasn't sure when I'd started moving like this — too smooth, too quiet — but it felt right. Natural. Like I belonged in the dark.
I edged closer to the alleyway, crouching low. The sound came again — that wet, gurgling wheeze. I eased my head around the corner... and froze.
Curled up beside a toppled dumpster was a creature I barely recognized.
It was no bigger than a small dog — its scaly body dull and cracked, like old leather left out too long in the sun. Its red underbelly was blotchy and discolored, and a faint, sulfurous stench hung around it. The creature's nine heads lay limp, barely twitching. Each one wheezed shallowly, and thin trails of smoke curled from its slack jaws.
I blinked. A Hydra?
But this wasn't like the monster Thalia had described — no towering snake-beast, no swarming heads spewing acid. This thing was... dying.
"What is it?" Luke whispered behind me, making me flinch.
I didn't answer right away. My eyes locked on the Hydra's trembling frame.
"It's... small," I muttered. "And... sick?"
Thalia and Annabeth crept up beside us, Annabeth's eyes widening as she saw the creature.
"That's a red-bellied Hydra," she said in disbelief. "They're... supposed to be endangered."
"Well, it's about to be extinct," Luke muttered grimly.
The Hydra let out a weak hiss, barely lifting one of its heads before it flopped back down. Its sides heaved with every breath.
"Should we... kill it?" Thalia asked, gripping her spear tightly.
I didn't answer right away. Something about the thing made my stomach twist. It wasn't just the smell or the cracked scales — it was the way it felt. Like the air around it was off, warped somehow.
"I don't think we need to," I said quietly. "It's not gonna last much longer."
Annabeth crouched closer, her face tense. "I think it's been... poisoned," she said. "Or maybe burned?"
"Burned?" Thalia asked.
Annabeth nodded. "Look at its scales — the black marks. Something scorched it, but not enough to kill it outright."
The Hydra let out another weak, rattling hiss, its heads twitching as if they barely had the strength to move. Then, to my surprise, one of the heads lifted — just slightly — and turned toward me.
I froze, muscles tensing. The air seemed to thicken, heavy and sharp like ozone before a storm. The Hydra's dull eyes fixed on mine, clouded and faint, yet strangely focused. One of its heads — the smallest one, with a ragged tear along its jaw — let out a soft, pathetic whine.
Then it started slithering toward me.
"Uh..." Luke shifted his grip on his golf club. "Should we... stop that?"
"It's barely moving," Thalia muttered. "Doesn't seem like much of a threat."
"Yeah, well, I've seen enough dying things suddenly not die to know better," Luke shot back.
The Hydra dragged itself closer, its nine heads barely lifting as its limp body scraped against the pavement. I should've backed away — instinct screamed at me to move — but something kept me rooted.
The Hydra paused right in front of me, its heads drooping as it slumped to the ground. One head — the one with the torn jaw — nosed weakly at my boot. Its scales were dry and brittle, flaking off like dead skin. It let out another faint whimper, curling closer against my leg like... like a stray cat begging for warmth.
I didn't know what to do.
"I think it's... bonding with him?" Thalia said, sounding about as uncertain as I felt.
"Great," Luke muttered. "Now you've got a diseased murder noodle as a pet."
"It's not a pet," I said quickly — though I wasn't sure what it was.
"It's a Hydra," Annabeth snapped, voice tight. "Khaine, you can't seriously—"
"I didn't do anything!" I shot back. "It just... came to me."
"Yeah, because monsters like you," Annabeth muttered under her breath.
I bristled, biting back a sharp reply. I knew she didn't mean it — not really — but that didn't make it sting any less.
The Hydra let out a faint, rasping breath, its cracked scales rising and falling in shallow waves. Its torn jaw nudged my ankle again, like it was trying to get comfortable.
"...We can't just leave it," I said quietly.
"You want to carry that thing?" Thalia asked, incredulous.
"It's dying," I said. "If we leave it here, something worse is gonna find it."
"I hate to break it to you," Luke said, "but if you drag that thing along with us, we're gonna be the worse thing that finds it."
I knew he wasn't wrong. We barely had enough supplies for ourselves — no food, barely any water — and hauling a sick, smoke-leaking Hydra through the wilderness wasn't exactly low profile.
But still...
I knelt down beside the creature. Its scales radiated heat — not the healthy kind, but the feverish warmth of something burning itself out. My hand hovered over its side before I let my fingers brush its battered scales. The Hydra let out a soft, contented rumble — almost like a purr — and curled closer to me.
"Oh, come on," Annabeth groaned. "Now it's cuddling?"
"I'm starting to think Khaine's secretly a Disney princess," Luke muttered.
"I heard that," I said dryly, not sure what Disney is.
The Hydra twitched again, one of its heads shifting just enough to bump its snout against my arm. Its breath stank of sulfur and ash, but the movement wasn't aggressive — it felt... trusting.
"...We can't just leave it," I said again, softer this time.
Annabeth groaned like she was being personally cursed by the Gods herself. "Fine. But if it mutates or spits acid or — I don't know — grows extra heads overnight, you're dealing with it."
"I'll keep it away from you," I promised.
"You better," she muttered, turning away to consult her map again.
Luke shook his head, grinning like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "I give it two days before it eats your boots."
I didn't answer. My hand lingered on the Hydra's side, feeling its shallow, strained breaths slow just a little. Its broken scales seemed to lose some of their tension, and the faint heat radiating off it dulled slightly.
"You're gonna make this difficult, aren't you?" I muttered.
The Hydra gave a faint, breathy croak — something between a hiss and a sigh — and nuzzled closer.
I had my answer.
"Wait..." Thalia interrupted. "If this thing's been fighting something, that something's still out there."
I froze, my hand still resting on the Hydra's feverish scales. The air seemed colder now, and my ears twitched at every distant creak or groan in the building.
"You think whatever did this is still nearby?" Luke asked, tightening his grip on his golf club.
"Yeah," Thalia said grimly. "And if this thing's still breathing, then whatever attacked it didn't finish the job."
Annabeth let out a shaky breath, her knuckles white around her map. "We should go. Now."
The Hydra gave a weak, rattling sigh and burrowed closer to my side. Its cracked scales pressed against my arm, and one of its heads curled under my elbow like it thought I could protect it.
"I can't just leave it," I said quietly.
"You have to," Annabeth snapped. Her voice was sharper than usual, her nerves frayed. "If that thing's still out there—"
CRUNCH.
The sound of something heavy — big — stepping on glass echoed down the street.
We all went still.
"Time to move," Luke muttered.
I grabbed the Hydra carefully, trying not to jostle it too much. It was lighter than I expected — all bones and dry scales — and didn't protest when I lifted it. The Hydra let out a faint, wheezing croak, barely able to keep one of its heads aloft.
"You're really bringing that thing?" Thalia whispered harshly.
I shot her a look. "Later."
We slipped out of the alleyway, sticking to the shadows as we made our way deeper into the ruined streets. The air smelled of mildew and rot, and every gust of wind seemed to carry a faint, sulfurous stench.
Another crunch. Closer this time.
I dared a glance back — and my stomach twisted.
Emerging from the ruins was something out of a nightmare.
It moved like a snake, slithering forward in slow, powerful waves. Its scales were dark green, mottled with patches of black and oily red. Its head was massive — a wedge-shaped skull with gleaming yellow eyes that swept the street like searchlights. Its jaws parted slightly, revealing jagged, uneven fangs that glistened with slime. The air around it shimmered with heat, and smoke curled from the cracks in its scales.
"A drakon," Annabeth whispered in horror.
"That's a baby?" Luke hissed.
"It's the size of a car!" Thalia added.
"Big babies grow up to be bigger adults," I muttered grimly.
The Hydra in my arms shivered, its heads curling tight against its body. I could feel its shallow, rapid breathing against my chest. The drakon's eyes swept past us — then stopped.
"Go," I muttered. "Now."
"But—" Thalia started.
"Just go!"
Luke grabbed Annabeth's arm and bolted down the street. Thalia followed, but she kept glancing back like she wanted to punch me for staying behind.
The drakon's gaze locked onto me, its pupils narrowing to thin slits.
It lunged.
I barely twisted away in time, slamming my shoulder into a crumbling wall as the drakon's jaws snapped where I'd been standing. The Hydra gave a weak, pitiful hiss in my arms.
The drakon reared back, its thick coils slithering forward with bone-cracking force. I backed away slowly, my legs tense. I knew better than to run outright — predators liked that.
"Easy," I muttered. My voice came out low and instinctive — more growl than words. The drakon's head swayed, watching me carefully.
Then its gaze flicked down to the Hydra in my arms — and its lips curled back in something that almost looked like a grin.
It lunged again.
This time, I sprang sideways, twisting in midair to keep the Hydra out of the drakon's reach. I hit the ground hard, rolled, and scrambled back to my feet. The drakon's jaws slammed into the pavement where I'd been, crushing asphalt like paper.
I bolted.
"Get clear!" I barked as I sprinted after the others.
Ahead, Luke skidded to a stop at the corner of a ruined gas station. "Khaine!"
"Working on it!" I yelled.
The drakon surged after me, scales grinding against the pavement like stone dragging over metal. I swore and ducked behind an overturned truck, breathing hard.
"You've got a plan, right?" Luke called from the gas station doorway.
"Not yet!" I shouted back.
The drakon rounded the corner, eyes blazing. Its jaws snapped at me again — I barely ducked away in time. My back hit the truck's rusted side, and I had nowhere left to go.
The drakon hissed, smoke curling from its mouth. I could feel the heat on my face — like a furnace about to blow.
Then, weakly, the Hydra in my arms stirred. One of its heads lifted, its dull eyes narrowing as it stared at the drakon. Its jaw opened just slightly... and a thin wisp of toxic green mist trickled out.
The drakon's eyes widened — just for a second.
"Now!" Luke shouted.
I bolted sideways as Luke swung his golf club with everything he had. The club's metal head smashed into the drakon's snout with a loud crack.
The drakon reared back with a furious roar.
"Not bad," I panted, stumbling to Luke's side.
"Yeah, yeah," Luke muttered. "Don't let it kill me."
The drakon shook its head, then lunged again — but this time, Annabeth was ready. She darted in from the side, slashing her dagger across the drakon's eye. The blade barely scratched it, but the drakon hissed and recoiled, swiping blindly.
"Go!" Thalia barked, covering us with her spear. Lightning crackled down its length as she stabbed forward, forcing the drakon to retreat.
We ran.
The drakon's furious roar followed us down the street, but it didn't give chase. Either the injury was enough to slow it down... or it knew we weren't worth the effort.
We didn't stop running until we were halfway back to the abandoned building.
"Everyone okay?" Thalia asked, breathless.
"Yeah," Luke panted. "Still in one piece."
Annabeth was clutching her side but nodded.
I exhaled slowly and glanced down at the Hydra in my arms. Its eyes were half-closed now, but one of its heads nudged weakly at my hand.
"You're really keeping that thing, huh?" Luke muttered.
"Looks like it," I said quietly.
Thalia shook her head. "You're lucky Annabeth didn't stab you."
Annabeth shot me a glare, but I caught the hint of relief in her eyes.
"Next time," I muttered, shifting the Hydra closer against my chest, "we turn off the fire."
We started our pace down the path, the gas station behind us having been destroyed.
"Oh crap- wait that was the wrong Gas station," Annabeth said as she pointed to a second Gas Station, food visible in the windows.
We stared at the second gas station — a blocky, faded building with boarded-up windows and a crooked sign barely hanging above the door. Despite the grime and neglect, I could still make out snack wrappers, bottled drinks, and other supplies inside.
"You're kidding me," Luke groaned. "All that running, and that's the place with the food?"
"Could've mentioned that sooner," Thalia grumbled.
Annabeth shot her a glare. "I was a little busy not getting eaten."
"Less arguing, more eating," Luke said, already heading for the door.
The Hydra shifted in my arms, letting out a weak, breathy sigh. It was barely conscious now, its scales dull and dry. I bit my lip. I wasn't sure how much longer it had.
"You guys go ahead," I said quietly. "I'll stay with this one."
Thalia frowned. "You're seriously still—"
"I know," I said, cutting her off. "But I'm not just leaving it."
Annabeth sighed heavily but didn't argue. "Fine. Just... don't die."
Luke kicked in what remained of the door with his boot, sending splinters flying. "If they have beef jerky," he called over his shoulder, "I'm claiming it."
"Yeah, yeah," Thalia muttered, following him inside.
I knelt by the wall, setting the Hydra down carefully. It barely twitched, one of its heads resting against my knee. Up close, I could see more of its injuries — the deep burns across its scales, the twisted, broken spines down its back. I didn't know what that Drakon did to it... but whatever it was, it had fought hard to survive.
"Hang in there," I muttered.
The Hydra let out a faint croak, curling tighter against me like I was something safe — which felt ridiculous, considering I'd barely managed to keep myself alive.
Moments later, Luke stumbled back outside with his arms full of bags — chips, granola bars, even a couple of dented soda cans. Annabeth followed, stuffing bottled water into her pack, and Thalia brought up the rear, clutching a large plastic jug.
"Found this in the back," Thalia said, shaking the jug. "It's not cold, but it's water."
"Thank you," I said. "Here—" I reached for it, but Annabeth surprised me by stepping closer.
"Let me," she muttered. Without meeting my eyes, she knelt beside the Hydra and carefully unscrewed the cap. "I'm not saying this is a good idea," she warned, "but if you're gonna insist on keeping it... at least let me help."
I blinked in surprise but didn't argue. Annabeth poured a small trickle of water along the Hydra's cracked scales. The creature shifted, one of its heads stretching toward the bottle like it recognized the scent. Annabeth tilted the bottle closer, letting the Hydra lap weakly at the water.
"There," she murmured, quieter now. "That's better, isn't it?"
I felt a lump rise in my throat. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," she muttered, tightening the cap. "Seriously. Don't."
Luke plopped down beside me, tearing open a bag of chips. "So," he said between bites, "what are we calling this thing?"
"We're not naming it," Annabeth snapped.
"Too late," Luke shot back, grinning. "I saw the look on Khaine's face. He's already picked one."
I glanced down at the Hydra, its torn jaw resting against my knee. "Ananke," I said quietly.
Thalia, who'd been mid-sip from a can of soda, choked. "What did you just say?"
I blinked. "Ananke. It's... my grandmother's name. At least, that's what my mom told me."
Thalia stared at me like I'd just announced I was planning to marry the Hydra. "You do know that's—" She stopped, her gaze flicking down to the Hydra, then back to me. Her expression softened just a little. "Never mind. It fits."
"Wait, wait, wait." Luke sat up straighter, still chewing on a mouthful of chips. "Are you telling me you named your weird fever lizard after some lady from your family tree?"
"It's better than 'diseased murder noodle,'" I muttered.
Luke laughed. "I dunno, that one had character."
"I don't know," Annabeth said, surprising me. "It fits."
The Hydra — Ananke — shifted again, curling a little tighter against my leg like it had claimed that spot as its own.
"Great," Thalia said, sighing dramatically. "We've got a pet murder noodle named after destiny."
"I'm not calling it a murder noodle," I said plainly, though Luke snickered behind his bag of chips.
We sat there quietly for a while, the tension starting to ease. Thalia took a swig from her soda, and Annabeth meticulously organized the food they'd scavenged — rationing it out with the precision of someone who'd done this way too often.
"Alright," Luke said, tossing a crumpled chip bag aside. "Who's eating what?"
We divvied up what we could — granola bars, stale crackers, a few crushed cans of soda. It wasn't much, but after the fight with the drakon, it felt like a feast. Even Ananke perked up when I carefully dribbled a few more drops of water along its snout. One of its smaller heads flicked out its tongue, licking the moisture like it was the best thing in the world.
"You're really keeping this thing," Thalia muttered.
"I guess," I said. "It's... I don't know. It's not like it's got anyone else."
That shut her up.
The sky was starting to darken by the time we finished eating. The air still smelled faintly of sulfur and smoke, but the Drakon that wasn't following us anymore. We'd have to move again in the morning, but for now... things felt calm. Safe, even.
Luke flopped down with a satisfied sigh, resting his head on his pack. "Y'know," he mumbled sleepily, "if you told me this morning we'd survive a drakon attack and adopt a Hydra... I'd probably have hit you in the head with my golf club."
"You still might," Annabeth muttered, though her voice was softer now.
"Don't tempt me," Luke shot back.
"Go to sleep," Thalia ordered, flopping her jacket over her shoulders like a blanket.
I shifted Ananke closer, letting it rest just beside me. It let out a faint, breathy sigh — like it had finally relaxed.
"You're safe now," I muttered, more to myself than to the Hydra.
Its dull, clouded eyes blinked once, slowly — like it believed me.
For the first time in what felt like days, I let my head rest against the wall and closed my eyes.
"Goodnight, Ananke," I whispered.
I swore I heard it purr.
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DGW: Hello everyone, thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you have any suspicions on who the god the MC's descended from is, feel free to guess. There are hints throughout the story. If you have complaints feel free to tell me I will listen. With that said, I'm Signing off.
Tools used: FANDOMS app, Google Docs, Spotify,
Suggest Love Interest Here: anyone is allowed, except anyone two or more years younger than the MC
Word Count: 7176