Thunderstorm ➪ʜᴀᴢᴇʟ Lᴇᴠᴇsǫᴜᴇ [𝟷]

𝗜 𝗜

𝘽𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙜𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 Hermes cabin could survive one sword lesson without her. Instead, she went to the forges, wanting to talk to Leo, the new son of Hephaestus.

It was a little suspicious that Annabeth, leaving to find her missing boyfriend, had returned with three new demigods. Especially since Percy had disappeared out of nowhere, from what should have been a safe place.

She just wanted to have a quick conversation with Leo about what had happened at the Grand Canyon.

The entire Hephaestus cabin—minus Jake, of course—was emptying out of the forges, heading to the pavilion for dinner. Bronte must've missed the conch horn.

Nyssa shot her a look as she passed, the classic maybe you shouldn't that Bronte seemed to get from everybody.

Bronte ignored it.

She didn't spend a lot of time in the forges, it it seemed like a place Hephaestus kids would like. The building looked like a Greek Parthenon mixed with a steam-powers train from, like, before computers. At least three chimneys limped smoke, and the white walls were covered with soot. There was always machinery grinding inside, fires roaring, even when it was empty.

Bronte slipped inside, knowing enough to not touch anything. She'd taken a sword-smithing class once and it hadn't exactly ended well. She didn't have a talent for forging, that's for sure.

Leo was in the back, hunched over, staring at his palms. He was taking deep shuddering breaths like he'd forgotten how to take in oxygen.

She walked up beside him, all the years of her combat training coming back to her, making her steps soft and quiet. It was instinct, she guessed.

She peered over Leo's shoulder, gasping when she saw the apple sized ball of fire in his palms.

He lurched to the side, extinguishing it immediately. His eyes were wild and frightened. "It's not what it looks like!"

"You're a fire-user!" Bronte cried, smile wide. "That's so cool!"

Leo faltered, bringing his intertwined hands up to his chest like he was afraid Bronte would attack him. "What? Nyssa told me—"

"Oh, screw Nyssa!" Leo's eyes widened, and Bronte winced. "Sorry, she's your sister, isn't she?"

"Fire-users are dangerous." Leo insisted. "Bronte, you can't tell anyone."

Bronte's face softened. "Seriously, Leo, they won't be afraid of you. You've already gotten more control than me!"

She stuck out her hands like Leo did, a bright flame appearing over her palms. It wasn't like Leo's, exactly, more flickering and out of control, like it wanted nothing more than to hop out of her hands and start a fire. She let it flicker for a moment, staring at it with the tip of her tongue stick out in concentration. Then she stepped to the side and plunged her hand in a nearby bucket of water, extinguishing the flame. She held up her palms for Leo to see, pointing out the reddened and burnt parts the flames had touched.

"I'm not fireproof, though."

Leo gaped at her. "You're a fire-user, too?"

Bronte shrugged. "Not exactly. I've got almost no control over it. Everybody knows, too."

Leo hesitated, and Bronte's eyes softened. "Don't worry, I can keep a secret."

Leo looked up at her with gratitude, and Bronte looped her arm through his, starting to drag him out of the forges. "We'll be the Fire-buddies! One closeted, one out!"