Part 2 of the god killer series.
From a quest to save themselves, to a quest to save one of their own from destruction- A story of anger, treachery and sacrifice from the eyes of the children of gods.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓🏹༓･*˚⁺‧͙
The threat of the God killer...
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The thing about Greeks, the thing nobody ever seems to get, is that the lives of their heroes never end in happiness.
Did Luke consider himself a hero? Absolutely not. If he had to label himself, he'd say he was on the fast track to becoming a tyrant's sidekick—if Annabeth hadn't smacked some sense into him. Quite literally. He still nursed a concussion from when she grabbed his hair and shook him like a human maraca, all to drive out an evil titan king from his brain.
"Wow, Luke, you're sour," he muttered to himself.
But who could blame him? He'd been manipulated and lied to his entire life.
Everyone in the Hermes cabin knew better than to bother him while he packed. His well-worn Converse were tucked into his bag, a just-in-case measure. With a wardrobe overwhelmingly devoid of things other than orange camp shirts, the boys from the Aphrodite cabin had deigned to lend him some button-ups and t-shirts. Perhaps they wanted his remains, should he meet an untimely end, to be found in something more presentable.
He set his bag on the bed, running his fingers through his hair. Combing it was futile; it would just revert to a bigger mess. The mirror reflected a young adult bearing the weight of a year's worth of stress. He looked like someone who'd been through the wringer because everyone around him was a dumbass.
"Why wasn't I the one who got to be a tree again?" he sighed, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket. The dark crimson cloth, dotted with white stars, was one of the few things he had from his mother before he left home at nine years old.
Slowly, he opened the handkerchief, revealing a small mound of brown dust. It was all that remained after y/n, or rather, Thea, had snapped themselves away. It wasn't exactly calming or hygienic to carry dust from a person who disintegrated, but it was all he had. As his finger brushed the dirt, questions swirled in his mind. Was y/n in control of her own body? Had Thea locked her away forever?
"If anyone kills you, it'll be me," he whispered, feeling a lump of emotion settle in his chest. "Hang in there. Please."
Silly Luke. She couldn't hear him. Satyrs might form emotional links and communicate through dreams, but he wasn't a satyr. He was just a guy talking to an empty cabin, grateful for Connor and Travis's warning that stink bombs would be deployed if anyone disturbed him.
With the dirt mound tucked away, he stood up and stretched. His body ached, a reminder that he needed rest—something his demigod luck rarely allowed.
"LUKE!"
BANGBANGBANGBANG.
So much for a peaceful moment. He hoisted his bag over his shoulder and slid open the cabin door to find Maliah and Annabeth.
Maliah looked better, having recovered from her near breakdown. Though not quite the same since y/n left, she had regained some energy and sported a ponytail and freshly cut bangs, thanks to Silena. Annabeth, on the other hand, looked furious, her dark blue shirt with a toast doodle barely containing her anger.
