In the pine woods outside Charleston, Luke was snoozing under a tree, catching a nap after the excitement of last night. A book lay open on his chest, its cover displaying a cherubic Cupid and a gorgeous nymph locked in an intimate embrace. The title, Cupid's Deepest Secrets, gleamed in gaudy gold lettering against the lurid pink background.An impatient "Baaaa!" jolted him from sleep.
"What the hell?" Luke rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was still dreaming. Before him stood the fluffiest, whitest goat he had ever seen, regarding him with an almost human-like severity. "What in the Sage am I looking at?"
The goat bleated again, more insistently this time, stamping a hoof against the pine needle-covered ground.
Luke sat up straighter as he became aware of a rumbling beneath him, vibrating through the earth. His senses, honed by years of combat, immediately went on alert. The rumbling wasn't natural, it had the distinctive rhythm of combat. Faint roars echoed through the trees, carried on a wind that suddenly smelled of ozone and smoke.
In the distance, storm clouds were gathering with unnatural speed, dark and heavy with the promise of lightning.
"You're not a normal goat, are you?" Luke asked, already knowing the answer as he quickly gathered his belongings and shoved the romance novel deep into his pack. "I'm guessing this isn't a social call."
The goat, bleated again and trotted a few paces away before looking back expectantly.
"Lead the way," Luke sighed, securing his pack and drawing his sword. The celestial bronze gleamed dully in the filtered sunlight. "I was due for some excitement anyway."
Amaltheia set off at a brisk trot, weaving through the pines with purpose. Luke followed, keeping pace easily. The rumbling grew stronger with each step, and the smell of smoke more pronounced. Whatever was happening, it was big, monster big.
A brilliant flash of lightning split the sky ahead, followed almost immediately by a thunderclap that shook leaves from the trees. Luke quickened his pace, a suspicion forming in his mind.
"The child of Zeus," he muttered, pieces falling into place. "That's who you're leading me to, isn't it?"
Amaltheia didn't answer, of course, but her determined pace told Luke everything he needed to know.
They crested a small rise, and Luke dropped into a crouch at the edge of the treeline, assessing the scene before him. In a clearing about fifty yards ahead stood a girl, young, maybe eleven or twelve, with spiky black hair. She was facing off against what Luke immediately recognized as an Ismenian Drakon, its copper scales gleaming in the morning light.It’s her. It was the daughter of Zeus from his dreams
The girl was holding her own, somehow, electricity crackling around her spear and along her arms. But even from this distance, Luke could see she was flagging, her movements slowing as exhaustion took its toll.
"Well, this complicates things," Luke murmured, suppressing the relief at having finally found her. He watched as the dragon circled its prey. The beast was enormous, easily twenty feet from snout to tail-tip, with wings that could blot out the sun.Luke watched nostalgically as the girl called down lightning, and used it in her attacks.
Man, Luke thought, a smirk tugging at his lips. It’s like watching a gender-bent chibi Sasuke. All that edge, half the coordination, and way more shouting.
She was sloppy though. Every swing of her spear was wide, telegraphing her moves like a neon sign in Times Square. Clearly she hadn’t been trained formally, and her manipulation of lightning was wasteful.But gods, she was tough. Most demigods would have been a stain on the grass five minutes ago, but she just kept fightning, her natural raw power seeing her through the fight.
He stayed put though. Battle was where demigods grew the most. Demigods were not humans; where some mortals excelled when put between a rock and a hard place, the spawn of the gods were born for it. The harder they were pushed, the harder they could learn to push back.
And anyways, with Luke here now, the girl was safe, though she didn't know that.
"Come on, Sparky," Luke whispered, his voice light and airy. "Show me that God-tier muscle. Give 'em the Kirin special."
Thalia roared, one last jagged bolt of white light erupting from her palm, but the drakon just shook its obsidian scales and lunged. She stumbled, her knees hitting the dirt with a sickening thud. Her reserves were dry.
The beast reared back, its throat glowing a deep, catastrophic orange. It was about to unleash enough fire to melt the hillside.
"Alright, playtime's over," Luke muttered, rolling his shoulders.
And he shot forward grabbing her in his arms, just as the mouth of the dragon was to burn her to a crisp.
The heat singed the back of Luke's jacket as he twisted away from the inferno, cradling the exhausted girl against his chest. The dragon's flames scorched the ground where she'd been lying seconds before, grass instantly withering to ash.
He landed in a crouch twenty feet away, the girl clutched against his chest. He could feel her heart hammering wildly against his arms, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"Now that was a close call, Sparky," Luke said, setting her down gently behind a large boulder.
The girl stared up at him, her electric blue eyes wide with shock and suspicion. Her spiky black hair was singed at the edges, and dirt smudged one cheek. Despite her obvious exhaustion, her hands clenched into fists, ready to fight if needed.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, voice raspy from smoke inhalation.
"We'll talk later, kid," Luke replied, turning away from her. "I've got to take care of this overgrown fire lizard first."
The dragon, recovering from its surprise, roared in fury at the newcomer who had stolen its prey. Luke felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as he reached over his shoulder, drawing his celestial bronze sword with practiced ease.
The dragon, recovering from its surprise, roared in fury at the newcomer who had stolen its prey. Luke felt a familiar rush of adrenaline as he reached over his shoulder, drawing his celestial bronze sword with practiced ease.
"You know," he called conversationally to the dragon as he strolled toward it, "I was going to sleep in today.”
The dragon responded by lunging forward, jaws snapping at where Luke had been standing. But he wasn't there anymore. With a burst of speed that would have made Minato-Sensei proud, Luke had sidestepped the attack, leaving nothing but afterimages.
"Too slow," he taunted, appearing suddenly on the beast's flank. His sword flashed, opening a shallow cut along the dragon's side. Black ichor spilled onto the grass, sizzling where it landed.
The monster whirled, tail lashing out like a whip. Luke jumped, the appendage whistling harmlessly beneath his feet. In mid-air, he twisted his body, bringing his sword down in an overhead strike that sliced through one of the dragon's leathery wings.
"Rule number one of dragon fighting," Luke called out, loud enough for the girl to hear, "go for the wings first. A grounded dragon is a manageable dragon."
The beast shrieked in pain and rage, its damaged wing drooping uselessly at its side. It spun toward Luke, nostrils flaring as it inhaled deeply, chest expanding.
"And rule number two," Luke continued, diving behind a boulder as a torrent of flame washed over his position, "is don't get cooked."
The heat was intense enough to make the air shimmer. Luke pressed his back against the stone, feeling it warm rapidly through his jacket. He glanced over to where he'd left the girl and was relieved to see she remained safely hidden.
"Rule number three," Luke muttered to himself, gripping his sword tighter, "always keep extra tools as backup."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bronze sphere, a gift from one of the Hephaestus kids back at camp. With practiced precision, he flicked a tiny switch on its surface, waited for the soft beep, then rolled it toward the dragon's feet.
Three seconds later, the sphere erupted in a blinding flash of light and a thunderous boom. The dragon reared back, disoriented by the celestial bronze flashbang. Luke didn't waste the opportunity. He sprinted forward, his sword humming with energy as he channeled the Mist through the blade.
"Chidori Flow," he whispered, feeling the familiar tingle of electricity gathering along the edge of his weapon.
The dragon was still shaking its massive head, trying to clear its vision, when Luke struck. His electrified blade sliced cleanly through scales that had resisted the girl's attacks, penetrating deep into the monster's shoulder joint. The beast howled, a sound so piercing it seemed to shake the very air.
The dragon's tail whipped around, faster than its size suggested possible. Luke barely managed to leap over it, the scales brushing against the soles of his boots.
"Too slow," Luke taunted, dancing away from the dragon's retaliatory tail swipe.
He darted forward, ducking under a swipe of massive claws. The dragon snapped at him, jaws closing on empty air as Luke rolled between its front legs. He slashed upward as he passed, his blade finding the softer scales of the beast's belly.
The dragon shrieked, a sound that set Luke's teeth on edge. It reared back, exposing more of its vulnerable underside.
"Rookie mistake," Luke muttered, driving his sword upward with all his strength.
The celestial bronze sank deep, black ichor cascading over Luke's arms in a hot, sticky wave. The dragon thrashed, wrenching the sword from his grip.
Its tail slammed into his side, sending him flying across the clearing.
Luke hit the ground hard, tumbling several yards before regaining his footing. Pain bloomed along his ribs, probably cracked, maybe broken. He spat blood onto the grass, his mask now soaked with it.
"Okay," he wheezed, straightening up. "That was a good hit. I'll give you that one."
The dragon was wounded but far from defeated. It stalked toward him, fury burning in its golden eyes. Luke's sword remained embedded in its underbelly, black ichor dripping from the wound with each step.
"Well, this is awkward," Luke said, patting his pockets as if looking for car keys. "I seem to have misplaced my primary stabbing implement."
The girl had managed to retrieve her spear. She staggered to his side, face pale with exhaustion but determination burning in her electric blue eyes.
"I'll distract it," she panted. "You get your sword back."
Luke glanced at her, impressed despite himself. Most demigods her age would be catatonic with fear and exhaustion by now.
"Bold strategy, Sparky, but you look like you're about to pass out." He pulled out the gold sword he had taken from the dead demigod. "How about you take five, and I'll handle this."
Before she could protest, Luke sprinted toward the dragon. The beast opened its maw, revealing rows of teeth like serrated knives.
"Hey, ugly!" Luke shouted, waving his arms. "Over here!"
The dragon's massive head swung toward him, nostrils flaring. Luke feinted left, then rolled right as it lunged. Coming up beneath its chin, he drove the sword deep into the soft spot where the neck met the jaw.
The dragon reared back, a strangled roar bubbling from its throat. Luke used the momentum to swing himself onto its neck, grabbing one of the bony ridges along its spine.
"Yippee ki-yay," he muttered, climbing higher as the beast thrashed beneath him. The borrowed golden sword still jutted from beneath the creature's jaw, vibrating with each roar.
With a violent twist, the dragon flung its head backward. Luke lost his grip and went airborne, tumbling through the air. He tucked into a roll as he hit the ground,
"Gods damn it," he muttered, scrambling to his feet.
The dragon dropped low, its massive forelegs slashing toward him with claws like curved daggers. Luke threw himself flat against the ground, feeling the rush of air as the claws passed inches above his back. The beast's underbelly passed over him, and he caught a glimpse of his sword, still embedded in the scaly flesh, dripping black ichor.
In a desperate move, Luke reached up and grabbed the hilt, using all his strength to wrench it sideways. The blade cut a jagged new path through the dragon's flesh. The monster let out a shriek that made his ears ring and collapsed to one side, nearly crushing him.
Luke rolled away just in time, his sword finally free, covered in steaming black ichor.
He scanned the writhing beast for vulnerabilities. The golden sword still protruded from under its jaw, and black ichor poured from the wound in its belly. But dragons were notoriously difficult to kill, they had multiple hearts, and their brains were protected by plates of bone thicker than Celestial bronze.
The dragon got up shakily, and faced him, blood and ichor streaming from its wounds. It was weakening, but still deadly. Its good eye fixed on Luke with murderous intent.
The eye.
Luke flexed his hands, feeling the Mist gathering around his fingertips. Electricity began to dance between them, small arcs of blue-white energy that crackled in the morning air. He’d had a brief read through Hecate’s magic book gift, and it had helped make a bit of a breakthrough.
"You're not the only one with lightning tricks," he told the girl without looking at her. "Though mine are a bit more refined."
The electricity intensified, condensing into a chirping ball of plasma that illuminated his face with an eerie blue glow. The sound it made was like a thousand birds taking flight at once.
"Raikiri," he whispered, the name a memory from another life.
Luke launched forward, moving faster than any normal demigod could track. The lightning in his hand left a trail of blue light as he closed the distance to the dragon in the blink of an eye.
The beast had no time to react. Using the still impaled sword in its neck as a springboard, Luke drove his lightning-wrapped hand directly into the beast’s remaining good eye.
The massive beast didn't even have the chance to scream. A final surge of lightning liquefied the creature’s brain in a blinding flash of violet light.
Fwoosh!
The dragon disintegrated, its physical form collapsing into a shimmering mountain of monster dust that swirled in the wind before settling into the scorched grass. Luke dropped from the air, landing in a perfect three-point crouch that kicked up a cloud of gold.
All that remained of the fearsome creature was a single fang, curved and wickedly sharp, about the length of Luke's forearm.
Luke bent down to retrieve the tooth, turning it over in his hands. A nice trophy, and potentially useful for crafting. He pocketed it, then wiped the monster dust from his clothes before turning to face the girl.
She stood there, spear clutched in white-knuckled fingers, staring at him with a mixture of shock, awe, and suspicion that Luke found both familiar and amusing. Her electric blue eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open as if words had failed her completely.
Luke couldn't help the smile that curved beneath his mask. He'd seen that look countless times before, that particular expression of disbelief that followed a particularly impressive display of combat skills.
Everyone's a sucker for a bit of cool monster slaying.
The girl seemed to recover some of her composure, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin defiantly. Still, Luke could see how she swayed slightly on her feet, exhaustion evident in every line of her body.
"What's your name, Sparky?"
"Thalia," she said, her voice hoarse from smoke and exertion. She hesitated for a moment before adding, "Thalia Grace."
Luke studied her for a moment. She couldn't be older than twelve, but there was something in her eyes that spoke of years spent running, fighting, surviving.
"Hmm, I think I'll stick with Sparky for now," he decided, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small vial filled with golden liquid. He tossed it to her casually.
Thalia caught it reflexively, then stared at the glowing contents with suspicion.
"Drink that," Luke instructed. "It'll help."
She turned the vial in her fingers, studying the shimmering liquid inside. "What is it? And who are you anyway?
"The name's Luke Castellan, and I've come to bring you to camp."