Darkness | Male oc X PJO

And the Curtain...Rises

January 26

Life. The Great Game, they called it. The game that we all inevitably fail. A paradise that is ripped away from us before we even appreciate it. Before it appreciates us. For if it never had a player, the game wouldn't win.

At least, that's what was taught.

There is a way to win. You just have to find it. My mother always said that the answer would be found in dreams. She said that all your problems vanished as soon as you closed your eyes. But what dreams? You may ask me.

Nightmares. I would reply. Pure miseries. Refined sufferings. That is where every key to every lock hides.

Don't believe me? Perhaps...my legend will convince you.

***

The forges had always felt like home. Not because I belonged in them—I wasn't a child of Hephaestus, after all—but because they were loud, messy, and full of people who didn't ask too many questions. I came to camp about three years ago, found my way into the forge on my first day, and never really left. I wasn't exceptional at forging weapons or crafting armor, but I was decent enough to stick around without drawing attention.

Attention was the last thing I needed.

I'd been recruited by Luke during my second summer here. Not officially, of course. You don't exactly sign a contract when you're agreeing to spy on your fellow campers. At first, it was small things: memorizing the schedules for Cabin 4 (Demeter) or Cabin 8 (Artemis). Who trained when, who was leading, what weapons they were practicing with. It didn't seem like a big deal at the time. Just gathering intel, like a game.

Then it wasn't a game anymore.

By the time Luke added Cabin 9—Hephaestus—to my list, I'd started to realize I wasn't just another kid at camp. I was a tool, a pair of eyes for someone who saw every camper here as either an obstacle or an asset. I didn't mind at first. Luke had a way of making you believe he was right. That he was doing this for all of us, for the right reasons.

But now...now I wasn't so sure.

And then there was Silena.

I wasn't stupid. I knew the risks of working with her—she was one of Luke's most trusted people. Where I covered the practical details, Silena worked the social angles, her charm and beauty disarming people in ways I never could. She was dangerous, clever, and absolutely not someone I should have let myself care about.

But I did anyway.

We'd been circling each other for months now. Shared missions. Stolen conversations. Moments where the air felt heavy with words we couldn't say. I could feel the pull, even when I tried to fight it. But we both knew better. Luke's plans didn't leave room for distractions, and even if they did, a relationship built on lies and secrets would crumble before it ever had a chance to stand.

And yet, when Silena walked into the forge, I couldn't help but notice the way the firelight caught in her hair, or the way her voice wavered just slightly when she said my name.

Silena cleared her throat. "I need to speak with one of your students," she said, trying—and failing—to sound nonchalant. "Uh... Declan Hayes."

Beckendorf laughed, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. "Yeah, you can take him. Hayes, just put your metal on the anvil. I'll fix it for you when you get back."

The hunk of steel clattered loudly as I set it down, but the sound didn't cover the hushed whispers that followed me as I stalked past the other students. Eyes bored into my back, but I kept my focus on Silena and the exit.