The Blood of Olympus

Chapter Seventy-Four: Reyna

Well hi there. 

Thank you for all the feedback and the awesome deaththreats! Really creative :) I'm proud of you, my little muffins. 

This chapter is dedicated to....*the drum is rollllinnnggg* @grey_eyed_goddess for the most creative death threat!! Congratulations!!! (though please don't put that threat into practice because i never want to hear Apollo's haikus, like, ever)

Enjoy the chapter, though it's unedited and crappy. 

Reyna

Reyna spent exactly three hours in the infirmary.

The Apollo campers-both Greek and Roman- had urged her to stay, but being ex-Praetor and the daughter of Bellona had its benefits. To the medics’ great reluctance, she had limped out the place as soon as they had finished patching her up.

Besides, the goddess Nike had done her job well.  The only indication that she had even been wounded was the thin, reddened scar that rested in the small place just above her belly button.

Reyna absentmindedly scratched at it, her eyes feasting on the sight of the setting sun that was slowly dipping below the ocean. The water rippled with waves of gold, orange and red.

Despite it being late, demigods of both camps rushed around with the faintest urgency, though there was a tinge of relief to the air; the monsters were gone. And for now, the half-bloods were at peace.

The daughter of Bellona spotted a familiar-looking faun standing by the big house, fiddling with the hem of his shirt nervously. Reyna approached him and stared at her hands, for once unsure of what to say.

“Any of those deaths weren’t your fault.” Grover said after a minute, his big brown eyes meeting Reyna’s. “I can’t read your thoughts, but I can sense your emotions. You shouldn’t feel guilty. You saved everyone.”

Reyna shook her head and watched some other fauns-satyrs-repairing damaged grass with melodies from their reed pipes. “Not everyone.”

Grover was silent for a moment. Then he smiled timidly. “You remind me of Percy. In the same situation, he would be blaming himself even if it wasn’t his fault.”

Reyna’s thoughts wandered over to the son of Poseidon, and then to the rest of the Seven and the quest. Were they battling Gaia right now? Were they even still alive?

Her eyes lifted to see several nymphs carry a make-shift stretcher from the forest, a bloody body of a demigod lying on top.

“How many?” She asked.

Grover frowned with confusion until he saw where her gaze was heading. He lowered his eyes. “Seventeen demigods dead, thirty-nine seriously injured and forty-three with minor wounds.”

Reyna nodded silently and felt tears sting her eyes. “That’s a lot of them seriously injured. How many do you think will pull through?”

“The majority are looking good. But around five or six of them…” Grover trailed off, his eyes moist.

“What about the nymphs?”

“Seven killed, three of them satyrs.” Grover said mournfully, chewing on his shirt. “But Juniper is okay, but a bit worried about her friend...” The satyr began describing how a hellhound had clawed a nymph.