CHAPTER SEVEN / VOL. I, THE MONSTER BEFORE YOU
IT'S HARD TO BE GOOD. Maybe not for the average person, but for Will it always has been. It's not like she wants to be a bad person; it just comes naturally. And as much as she might try, being good does not come naturally. What Will Solace always tells her is that being good is allowed to be hard. He understands that she doesn't always make the right choice and that even when she does it's never easy. He says that the important thing is that she makes the right choice anyways, no matter how difficult it might seem or how much she wants to choose the painless option.
Her father doesn't believe in right or wrong, good or bad. People just are. He, like Will, is calloused and cruel with no moral compass and no concern for the concept of morality. Most people are born with a moral backbone or at least find it along the way, but Ares has a spine like a whip, still dripping with sweat and blood from the battlefield. He is self-serving and antagonistic—born from ire and warfare, finding a home in the chaos that comes from his own wrath. He thinks that the easy choice is the best choice because it's always easy to choose his own gain. He's selfish and in some ways a coward, and as much as Will wants to say she's not like him, the sad truth of it is that she is.
Luke's trust in her was misplaced, just as hers was in him. Despite what he had told her, Will was the spitting image of her father—eyes like torches and a niche where her heart should be, an empty cavern full of dark things that scramble to find safety in the shadows.
Outside of the building, the cold air nips at her cheeks and her whole body is threatened by the stagnancy of the cold, and she thinks that maybe she deserves this kind of pain because there is nothing remotely redeemable about her. Standing by one of the falling fences, Will looks back at the warehouse that holds the good in her, the parts of her that say to be selfless. She'd left it long behind and now she feels her gut wrench. Finally, she understands—it's guilt. It festers until it becomes uncontrollable and Will has to stop herself from attempting to carve out this unfamiliar feeling with her bare hands. She hates feeling this way, thinking that she'd rather take a sword to the stomach than feel this guilty ever again. Because she's left Piper to die and it already haunts her.
Then again, it wouldn't be the first time she'd killed someone.
Even the stars are glaring down at Will as if she's wronged them, making her think that maybe it's a sign, or maybe the stars are just stars and self-preservation should prevail. Every inch of her says to run. Leave these strangers behind and wipe your hands of them, but then she thinks that she'd only be wiping her hands of their blood that would stain her skin and bleed beneath her fingernails. That's when she decides. She can't be weighed down by any more burdens or haunted by any more ghosts.
Even now, Will is acting selfishly. She doesn't return the building, slipping through the door with her sword at the ready, because she wants to save Piper. It's because she wants to save herself from the guilt weighing down on her conscience like an anchor slipping beneath the waves. She makes the right choice for the wrong reasons, but is put at ease because Will Solace always tells her that it's okay as long as she makes the right choice in the end. That's all that matters. So Will believes him because she wants to, and because he doesn't expect her to change. But maybe she needs to. She should be making the right choices for the right reasons, instead of thinking of her own interest, but no one has ever asked her to change. So for now she will remain stagnant until it kills her.
As she walks through the shadows, pressing herself against the wall with her sword held low as to not catch any light, everything around her is the same, only this time a faint trickle of gray morning light bleeds through open crevices. It's unlike her to run from a fight, but every part of her itches to vanish into the unknown, crying out that this could be the end. She's had this feeling ever since they left Camp Half-Blood, that all of this was the beginning of the end. Call it instinct, but Will could feel the dread building in her stomach. A war was on the horizon and it all starts here with these moments and the choices she makes. So Will is not as bellicose as she used to be, because killing monsters was one thing, but real war wasn't as easy—real war involved loss and sacrifice, and the eldritch horror of bloody hands and corpses with all too familiar faces. If this was war then Will didn't want it.
What she wants is to run, even if it means living in misery with the knowledge that she is a murderer and a coward and nothing can ever make her whole. Will wasn't afraid of death or storms or any number of bad omens, but when it really comes down to it, the ugly truth is that we are all animals. Self-preservation is all we know and Will is no exception. Maybe she is afraid, even if she knows she deserves a fate far worse than death. The most human part of everyone begs to survive no matter the cost.
Maybe I'm human after all, she muses.
Just as soon as the thought crosses her mind, the flicker of fire catches her eye in the distance, glowing violently against the severe factory walls. The weakest parts of her remember that night—the sound of screams bleeding into thunder and the smell of burning flesh seared in her mind. Ares would scorn her, thinking her pathetic for her pain and asinine for her longing, and she would always resent him because of this. The fire comes into focus like a burning star in the sky, and Will realizes as she approaches that it's not the most concerning thing about the image. Above the fire are two bodies strung up in chains, hanging menacingly close to the feral flames that threaten to crawl over their bodies and consume them.
Will wants to run more than ever. She's not afraid—warriors fear nothing—but fire is unpredictable and has a bad habit of ruining everything she's ever held dear. It takes and takes and takes, giving nothing in return but heartache and ash, remnants of what was lost to the fire. Looking down at her hands, they are red and sweltering, shadows of flames flickering against her palms. She hears her mother scream.
Her skin crawls.
WHEN LEO STUMBLES TOWARDS THE ABANDONED BUILDING, still haunted by the woman whose flesh is made from the earth and whose words plague him, the first thing he notices is the stillness. The silence is daunting and too reminiscent of Will whose austerity is more macabre than anything. Peering inside, Leo sees nothing concerning between the shadows that swallow most of the building. The factory looks dead, not a trace of Piper or Jason or even Will to be found. He wants to call out for them, to seek comfort in their company because this world is so unfamiliar that even Will's menacing presence could make him feel safe. But he doesn't call for them; something stops him—a visceral feeling that sends his brian into a frenzy.
Then he understands. It smells like sulfur and motor oil, and Leo feels his gut fill with dread because something less than human lurks inside the building, a looming threat that weighs heavy on him.
Somewhere from the shadows, Piper's voice breaks through the silence, calling out: "Leo, help!"
He stills, biting his tongue so hard that it bleeds. Instinct tells him not to answer, but it doesn't tell him to run. This is where their dichotomy begins. Every inch of Leo demands to save his friends, overcoming any mind-numbing fear and letting his love for them overpower any weakness. But every inch of Will says to run, leaving them for dead and giving into the most monstrous parts of her. They are not the same.
Leo swallows down any hesitation, thinking that Piper and Jason would do the same for him, and slips inside the building, gripping his hammer like it's fused to him and creeping behind boxes and cargo containers until he's at the assembly line. He crouches behind a large piece of machinery that looks threatening in the shadows like a hand reaching out to grab at him, but he shakes the thought from his head, not giving much thought to the crane and instead listening to the deceivingly authentic voice that calls out: "Leo?"
That's when he finds the courage to glance around the machinery, focusing in on the immense engine being suspended by a crane, the truck chassis on the conveyer belt, and the three menacing shapes like giants lingering in his line of sight. He desperately wants for it to be more machinery, but one of the looming shapes rises up and Leo knows that his hope is misplaced.
"Told you it was nothing," it grumbles, sounding far too feral to be human.
The other creature shifts, calling out once again in Piper's voice: "Leo, help me! Help—" Then the voice warps, twisting into a vexed snarl, too vicious for even a wolf. "Bah, there's nobody out there. No demigod could be that quiet, eh?"
The first monster laughs. "Probably ran away like the other one, if he knows what's good for him. Or the girl was lying about a fourth demigod. Let's get cooking."
Suddenly there is a spark—vibrant and violent—that leaves Leo temporarily blinded as he ducks behind the crane, still seeing specks of white dancing across his vision even when he clenches his eyes shut. When he looks back to the sight before him, terror floods his body as the picture comes into focus. Above the fire is Jason and Piper, tied by their ankles and wrapped with chains that cling to them like a noose. But almost worse than the sight of his friends strung up like meat and the all too clear image of the gruesome monsters before him, is the absence of Will.
The worst part is that some fragment of him still hoped there was more to her than acrimony and violence. He wanted to feel like he wasn't alone so he clung to the hope that she was just standoffish and stoic, but the ugly truth is that Will is a bad person, monstrous in every way that matters. She is a coward and a monster, and Leo is blinded by the rage that he feels towards her. He doesn't think that he's ever felt so angry, but Will has left his friends to die and the worst parts of him wish that she had stayed—that she was weighed down by the guilt of her cruelty or that it was her strung up there instead.
No, he thinks. I don't wish she was there instead of them. He feels disgusted by the thought, wanting nothing more than to be out of this moment, somewhere safe with his friends, even Will, so long as the dark thoughts stays at bay and the evil that haunts him is buried deep beneath the surface.
He understands what Will must have felt. He wants to tremble at the sight of the brutish creatures before him, but he thinks back to earthen woman before who told him to walk away, and suddenly he is filled with pulsating power. He won't leave them even if the fear begs him to. He couldn't imagine leaving them behind as Will has done.
This is where their dichotomy begins.
WILL ISN'T SURE WHAT TO DO WITH THIS GUILT. Watching Piper struggle against her binds and glare at the Cyclopses like she might burn a hole through their skull, Will thinks that maybe they didn't need her after all. Piper is clever and brave in ways that Will won't ever be. Really she's just trying to justify her leaving, listing all the ways that they would be fine without her, but she doesn't deserve this kind of comfort. The simple fact is that she left them for dead, and soon enough if she does nothing their demise will be seen through.
But something is wrong.
She's not sure how it happened, but there's something wrong in the most visceral parts of her. Will is not herself, and the things she feels are not her own. She's never been able to name these feelings—guilt, fear—and it's not that they've never appeared before. But the problem is that they only appear when she has something to lose. And how much more can she loose before there is nothing left?
One of the Cyclopses walks towards Piper in daunting strides as she makes a futile attempt to head butt him in the eye. "Can I take her gag off now? I like it when they scream."
The other one grunts in what Will assumes is permission and Piper's gag is ripped from her mouth, though the monster seems disappointed by the lack of shouting filling the warehouse. Piper doesn't scream or cry or make any kind of noise at all. It only adds to the eerie silence. She only takes a shaky breath like trying to calm her racing mind, and Will finds a new admiration for the girl whose brave face is better than her own.
The Cyclops in the toga stokes the fire, causing a colossal plume of black smoke to spread through the air. The other one glares at Piper's unmoving body. He wants her to cry out, beg them for mercy—but Piper will do nothing of the sort. "Scream, girl," he commands. "I like funny screaming!"
"Oh, no," Piper finally coos in response, voice as sweet as honey and showing no signs of wavering. "You don't want to kill us. It would be much better if you let us go."
The first Cyclops pauses, scratching his head and looking to his companion. "It makes sense, Torque. Maybe I should let them go."
Torque growls in response. "No, I'll let them go!"
They start to argue, shoving each other roughly though it doesn't seem to make a dent, before the third Cyclops stands up, bellowing: "Fools!" She pushes Sump aside and Torque steps back nervously, fear lacing his expression. "The girl is Venus spawn," she snarls. "She's using charmspeak on you."
Piper, now showing more signs of worry, starts to say, "Please, ma'am—"
The female Cyclops roars, spitting as she grabs Piper around the waist. "Don't try your pretty talk on me, girl! I'm Ma Gasket! I've eaten heroes tougher than you for lunch!"
Will almost feels her heart sink as Ma Gasket's hand closes around Piper's body that looks frail in comparison to her hand. She can't help but feel utterly useless. Her normal approach would be to run in head first, but fear grips her and hasn't let go since it drove her to first run away, consequently leaving Piper behind. Leo is nowhere to be found and Will has lost her touched, plagued by unknown feelings and thinking that maybe she's not what she used to be—or maybe she never was. A penchant for violence does nothing in this moment because Will doesn't even feel like herself. And how can she when the truth has come to light that Will Capote is a coward—not a warrior, just a monster.
"Eat her last, Ma?" Sump asks.
"Idiot!" Ma Gasket yells. "I should've thrown you out on the streets when you were babies, like proper Cyclops children. You might have learned some useful skills. Curse my soft heart that I kept you!"
"Soft heart?" Torque mutters under his breath.
"What was that, you ingrate?"
"Nothing, Ma," he says quickly. "I said you got a soft heart. We get to work for you, feed you, file your toenails—"
"And you should be grateful!" Ma Gasket bellows. "Now, stoke the fire, Torque! And Sump, you idiot, my case of salsa is in the other warehouse. Don't tell me you expect me to eat these demigods without salsa!"
"Yes, Ma," Sump says. "I mean no, Ma. I mean—"
"Go get it!" Ma Gasket shouts, grabbing a nearby truck chassis and slamming it over Sump's head. He crumples to his knees but still pushes himself to his feet and hurries out the door.
Now's the time, Will thinks, rising slightly from her crouched position. They've split up and Sump is vulnerable, alone and exposed—nothing like their last match which left Piper and Sump at the top of the catwalk and Will already out of the building, contemplating never coming back. But Will couldn't leave now with Piper and Jason still in danger. As she's trying to figure out the best move, movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention. On the other side of the building a small figure darts between robotic arms—Leo. Piper sees him too, letting out a choked gasp.
Will comes to a decision, crouching slowly and sticking to the shadows as she travels silently to the door. She holds her breath, each step placed carefully and calculated. For now, she'll have to trust that Leo is enough to keep them safe—something that doesn't go both ways. She thinks she's made it out unnoticed, but unbeknownst to her Leo sees her dart out of the warehouse. Part of him is glad to see her but the other part of him is still unsettled by her betrayal. He should've seen it coming though. Girls like Will Capote are too cruel and callous to ever be anything good. How could she ever be anything else but the monster before him?
THE MORNING AIR IS STILL, so stagnant that it's suffocating and Will can hardly focus on the lumbering creature a yard ahead of her because of it. She's crouching behind old machinery that has been left to rust outside and broken down vehicles that fall apart at the seams. Sump meanders on, taking loud, sizable steps and mumbling under his breath about his mother and puny demigods. Will doesn't think she'll feel guilty about sending him to Tartarus. She's never felt guilty about it before, but recently she's been feeling a lot of things that hadn't surfaced for a while.
Will follows him all the way to the other warehouse, biding her time just as Sherman would have done, and allowing him to isolate himself from his family even more, just as Annabeth would have done. War was more than violence and bloodshed, it was strategy and stamina. This is why Will felt incomplete without Annabeth here, like she was someone else without her. It hadn't always been like this. Will was bitter and full of acrimony when she first found Camp Half-Blood—the scar on her face at the end of its healing and the disgust she had for her bloody hands never left. She didn't want friends that would only disappoint her. She could hardly even stand to look in the mirror at the monster that she'd become, but Annabeth didn't give up because she knew that Will had no one, and in some ways she felt the same.
Catching her reflection in a dusty car window, Will sees a weathered face looking back at her. A long scar like a crescent moon is carved from her flesh and the eyes that stare back at her are stones, dark and unforgiving. But this is the face of a deserter, someone unworthy of the title warrior. The girl in the reflection is not the person she wants to be, and in a momentary fit of disgust, Will can't help but slam her bony fist through the window, shattering the glass and leaving a trail of blood dribbling from her knuckles.
Will curses her rashness, not bothering with her bleeding knuckles and instead rushing into the warehouse where Sump stands in the middle of the room, having heard the sharp sound that reached his ears just as he'd grabbed the salsa for his mother. With a dangerous amount of precision, Will spins the sword in front of her in a way that suggests boredom, watching Sump's reaction. He watches her display before he does something that Will would call foolish; he starts to laugh, a glaring, gnarled smile stretching across his face.
"You again?" he asks and the amusement is clear in his booming voice. He underestimates her and this will be his undoing. "You ran like a coward—scared little half-god girl," Sump jeers, watching Will's face turn dark.
She knows that she left. She knows that she is a coward and no one could ever convince her otherwise. So she says, "I came back."
It's not everything but it's something.
"Yes," the cyclops agrees. "Came back to die. I think," he muses, taking another lumbering step towards her, "that I will eat you now. Won't tell Ma that you came back."
"Good," Will asserts. "Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
The cyclops doesn't dwell much on the meaning of her statement. Instead he smiles widely. "You can't defeat me. You are afraid of me," he insists. "Afraid of dying. Don't worry, I will kill you quickly."
Will is afraid of dying. She doesn't want to see where a monster like her goes after death. She's been the kind of person who kills too easily, not thinking that there might be another way, a way that doesn't begin and end with death and destruction. She's prone to violence and cowardice, and just like her father, she's killed with no remorse and no sense of retribution. She's been that person—still is that person, but she's not sure what to make of this monster. Bravely, she says, "You're the one that should be afraid. I ran last time because I knew I was outnumbered. But now," Will sneers, a cruel smirk falling into place. "Now you have no one. Your mother and brother won't be here to save you. You are alone."
Her words anger Sump, his single eye looking more livid than before, a lurid ball of flames doused in kerosene. "You die now," he decides.
Yes, it would be what she deserved, but Will has other plans. Eventually she would die, probably at the hands of someone who was righting a wrong, punishing her for her wickedness, and she would spend her afterlife in the Fields of Punishment. But for now, Will would fight tooth and nail—vicious like the wolf that rips through flesh or the dragon that burns entire cities to the ground.
"No," Will says. "You die now. After all, you're the monster."
As soon as she says this, something in the air turns dark—stifling and suffocating as a hollow, raspy voice fills the air.
"And you aren't?"
Will doesn't have time to question anything before Sump is charging at her. She dodges out of the way swiftly, watching him move with the prowess of a wolf—calculating and cold. Just as she noticed earlier, he is strong but slow, never stopping to think and instead only wanting feel the destruction at the tips of his fingers. Easy, she thinks. Too easy.
Just like with Cal, Will lands a blow to the Cyclops' back, sending him sprawled on his knees a few feet away from her—but he is much larger and stronger than the boread she'd fought previously. He gets back to his feet and charges her once more. She'd fought worse monsters than him before, so why was it suddenly so unfamiliar?
Then the voice comes again: "Because you are not yourself, Will Capote. You feel guilt... you feel fear. You are becoming weak. They are not like you. Turn against them," it demands. "You did it once before."
"Who are you?" Will shouts, face twisted in fury.
"I am Sump," the Cyclops answers in confusion, but Will ignores him.
"A friend," the voice assures, though the sunken, gravelly tone brings Will no solace.
By now Will can feel the wrath spreading through her bones, reaching into every cavity and filling her with unbridled rage. She bristles at the claim. There's no other feelings that linger anymore. Just as she's done before, Will gives herself to the chaos that inhabits her. Turning to a confused Sump, the daughter of Ares lets out a war cry that is filled with violence and the promise of a cruel death. It travels all the way to the other warehouse where everyone's blood runs cold. It's the kind of sound that haunts you. And then she leaps forward, plunging her sword through the glowing red eye, ripping it out of his skull just before his body turns to dust.
Will turns back to the open warehouse. "Who are you? Answer me!"
"I am the mother of all," comes the voice, echoing throughout the building as though it is everywhere at once.
"And what do you want?" Will spits.
"To help you. Let my son, Porphyrion, rise and you will never have to be a pawn to the gods again."
"I'll just be a pawn to you."
"I know you, Will Capote," the voice hums. "You turned on your friends once before..."
"I didn't," Will denies through gritted teeth.
"But you wanted to," the voice states. "My son almost convinced you to join him. Or rather that son of Hermes did. You might not have sided with him, but you wanted to and that was a betrayal all the same."
Will understands now. "I know you."
"And I know you," Gaea echoes. "You may feel different now, but you are still the same. You will betray them once again. You cannot change who you are... a monster through and through."
And with that Will flees, not looking back to see the dust starting to take form once more. She stumbles out of the warehouse, hands grappling at the abandoned car whose window is shattered and cuts through her flesh once more. Will runs a shaky hand down her face, stilling as warm liquid smears across her skin. Looking in the reflection of Éleos, she sees a monster—hollow, beady eyes and half of her face coated in dripping blood. She can't breathe. Her hands shake so much that her dagger slips from her grasp, landing in the mud. It goes forgotten as Will empties her stomach onto the earth below her, hand clutching the car door so tightly that her knuckles turn white.
It's all too familiar—the blood on her hands and the images that come to life of war and strife and chaos. All things that Will once derived a sickening pleasure from. But now her bloody hands make her skin crawl and heart lurch, because all she sees are phantoms. It shouldn't have been so easy, but they were dead, and Will was here still haunted by them. Her father told her just before the battle of Manhattan: there's always casualties in war, just make sure that you're not one of them. They'd won the war, but it hadn't felt like a victory when so much had been lost.
But Will doesn't have time to reflect on all that she had lost. Grabbing Èleos from the mud, she runs towards the other warehouse, hearing her heart pounding in her ears and thinking she can't lose anything else. Her lungs burn and every part of her still aches but Gaea's words haunt her enough to drive her forward. She doesn't want to be that person anymore. She can't.
Just as Will runs into the warehouse, she sees dust drifting to the ground and Ma Gasket still watching in horror as her son disappears before her very eyes. They turn to Will and are met with something haunting. Still dripping with her own blood, hands covered in mud, looking more like a ghost than anything else—Will stands in the doorway, eyes like torches and lip pulled into a snarl. Leo watches with a horrified expression. He would liken her to a feral wolf in that moment but the truth is she looked much more monstrous than even that.
"Sump won't be joining us."
At Will's words, Ma Gasket's face twists into something brutal. She grabs the nearest crane arm, ripping it off its pedestal with a roar. "You busted my boys! Only I get to bust my boys!"
Leo hits a button and the two remaining arms swing into action, heading straight towards Ma Gasket who catches the first one and tears it in half like it's nothing. The second arm hits her in the head, only seeming to stoke her fury. She grabs it by the clamps, ripping it free, and swinging it like a baseball bat, barely missing Piper and Jason. Then she lets it go—spinning it toward Leo who yelps and rolls to the side as it destroys the machine next to him. Ma Gasket stands with her fists clenched and teeth bared, seething in every way.
"Any more tricks, demigod?"
Leo glances up—an action that the Cyclops misses but Will sees. There's an engine block suspended on a chain. Leo sees something she doesn't, but Will doesn't have time to question him.
"Yeah, I got tricks!" Leo lifts his remote control. "Take one more step, and I'll destroy you with fire!"
Ma Gasket laughs. "Would you? Cyclopes are immune to fire, you fool. But if you wish to play with flames, let me help!" She scoops red-hot coals into her bare hands and flings them at Leo. They scatter all around his feet.
"You missed," he says incredulously.
Then Ma Gasket grins wickedly, picking up a barrel of kerosene and spilling onto the floor in front of him. Leo clenches his eyes shut and Piper screams. But Will only watches, dread filling her body for reasons unknown to her. Against her better judgement, Will rushes towards him but just as soon as she does flames erupt around his body, burning anything around him. He lights up like a Christmas tree.
Will reels back, grasping at her arm that swelters from the heat. She doesn't look but she can feel the blistering already starting. Her mind goes numb with white hot pain, but all she can see is Leo standing in the weakening flames, untouched by the fire that consumed him.
Piper gasps. "Leo?"
Ma Gasket looks just as stunned. "You live?" Then she takes that extra step forward, standing beneath the awaiting engine as a smirk crosses Leo's face. "What are you?"
"The son of Hephaestus. And I warned you I'd destroy you with fire." He points one finger in the air and stream of flames erupts at the chain hovering above Ma Gasket. The flames die out and nothing has happened.
The Cyclops laughs. "An impressive try, son of Hephaestus. It's been many centuries since I saw a fire user. You'll make a spicy appetizer! "
And just like that the chain snaps and the engine block falls, leaving a pile of yellow dust in its wake. "I don't think so," Leo says. "Not immune to engines, huh? Hell yeah!" All of a sudden he falls to his knees, his head buzzing. It takes him a moment to register Piper's voice calling out Will's name.
"Will!" Piper calls. There's no response. "Leo! Are you all right? Can you move?"
He stumbles to his feet sluggishly. He feels drained but as he looks to Will, he thinks she must have it much worse. Her body is strewn on the ground, a violent swarm of red spreading across her entire arm. The whole side of her shirt is singed and Leo can only wonder how bad the burn really is. He doesn't have time to question when she'd passed out, instead opting to get Piper down from her chains so the two of them could lower Jason who was also unconscious. As soon as Jason is on the ground Piper rushes towards Will, trickling some nectar in her mouth and resting her head gently on her lap as though she might break at any moment. She hands the vile to Leo, gesturing for him to do the same for Jason. The welt on the boy's head starts to shrink and the color returns to his face. Will's wound, however, looks just as violent as before.
"Yeah, he's got a nice thick skull," Leo says after hearing his friend let out a groan. "I think he's gonna be fine."
"Thank God," Piper says, but she looks to Will with a worried expression, only hoping that she too will be alright. The girl in question takes in a shallow breathe but her eyes remain closed. Still, Piper feels her heart lurch in her chest. Suddenly a thought occurs to her and she looks at Leo with something akin to fear. "How did you—the fire—have you always...?"
Leo looks down in shame. He imagines that he must look like Will did when she talked about her mother's death—disgusted with herself and repentant. "Always," he says. "I-I should've told you guys sooner. I'm sorry, but—"
"Sorry?" Piper punches his arm with a wide smile. "That was amazing, Leo! You saved our lives. What are you sorry about?"
Leo blinks. He starts to smile, but his sense of relief is ruined when he notices something move next to Piper's foot. The dust shifts across the floor like an invisible wind is pushing it back together, molding it into the very monsters that had been destroyed moments before.
"They're forming again." He points out. "Look."
"That's not possible. Annabeth told me monsters dissipate when they're killed. They go back to Tartarus and can't return for a long time."
"Well, nobody told the dust that," Leo stresses as it collects into a pile, then very slowly spreads out, forming a shape with arms and legs.
"Oh, god." Piper pales. "Boreas said something about this—the earth yielding up horrors. When monsters no longer stay in Tartarus, and souls are no longer confined to Hades. How long do you think we have?"
"I don't know," he says. "But we need to get out of here."
"I'll get Will. You get Jason," Piper orders, lifting Will onto her back with some difficulty given the significant height difference and heavy muscle mass, before she finds her balance.
Leo opts for clasping his arms around Jason's chest, letting the lower half of his body drag against the ground in an unpleasant way. He doesn't even stop to think whether or not he wants to bring Will or leave her to the monsters that she ran from. He couldn't imagine doing what she did—leaving behind her companions, no matter the reason. The reason is because Will is a monster through and through, and Leo is not. He can't feel livid though, not in this moment at least, while the Cyclops is forming into a whole and Piper is glancing back at Will's slumbering face like someone who has lost everything. He hadn't realized how close they were before—or maybe just the fondness that Piper held for Will, but then he starts to think:
How long will it be until she betrays us again?
note: if y'all haven't picked up on it, will has trauma and ptsd from the titan war (because let's be honest, every demigod who fought is fucked up from that. they're literally children fighting wars.) i also really want to portray her trauma in an accurate way and show her guilt without making it seem insincere and offensive to anyone who actually has ptsd so hopefully i'm doing okay with that