Chapter Text
Cold wind whispered down the slopes of Mount Tamalpais, carrying the metallic tang of monster magic from the newly reawakened Mount Othrys above. Pines swayed like uneasy spectators as I stood before my strike team, the Titan army’s ragtag silhouettes flickering in patches of moonlight. “Phalanx formation on my mark,” I ordered, voice clear, precise, unshaking. “We move as one. Scouts, you’ll fan out in a forty-degree spread. If you see silver - any silver - you fall back immediately. The Hunters will not take prisoners tonight, should they come this route.”
My tone rang strong, but the words inside my head were louder. I’ll never leave you, Annabeth. I swear it on the River Styx. I promise. A promise broken. A failure that still tasted like iron in my mouth. My fingers twitched around the pommel of my blade as I fought the memory back into its cage. But it clawed and scraped, refusing to die quietly. From the corner of my eye, I sensed Luke long before I allowed myself to look his way. He lingered several yards off, arms folded, posture deceptively relaxed. To the rest of the army, he was a commander surveying his forces. But I knew better. His gaze wasn’t on the map I held. It was on me. Longer than necessary. Sharper than he meant it to be. I swallowed, shifting my stance. I focused on the soldiers before me - monsters, half-bloods, turncoats like myself. But every time I blinked, the fractured owl mosaic - the shattered emblem of my mother’s temple - flashed across the darkness behind my eyelids.
Broken pieces. A broken daughter. Athena’s disappointment carved in stone. I forced my shoulders back. “We head out in three minutes,” I finish. “If we do this right, we’ll have the advantage before any Olympian knows what hit them.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the group as they dispersed to prepare. I exhaled slowly. Just once, I let my eyes close - and the mosaic blared again: Athena’s once-proud owl, cracked down the center, accusing me all over again. Footsteps approached through the pine needles. “Kass.”
Luke’s voice. Low. Too close. My heartbeat spiked so violently I nearly cursed at myself. I straightened, slipping the steel mask of command back over my face before turning to him. “Luke,” I replied, crisp and controlled. “Do you need something?”
He hesitated - just a breath, just enough for anyone who knew him to catch it. Luke Castellan did not hesitate. Except, apparently, around me. His eyes flicked over my face, searching for cracks I refused to show. “You… handled them well,” he said finally, tone casual. Too casual. “You always do.”
I ignored the warmth curling under my ribs. “They’re trained. They know what to do.”
“That’s because you trained them.”
There it was - barely a compliment, half-swallowed like he was scared to give too much away. His gaze held mine longer than it should have, something soft and unspoken glinting underneath the mask he wore. I looked away first. I had to. “We should focus on the mission.”
“Right.” Luke nodded, jaw tightening as if he’d bitten back the real words. “The mission.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. Far above us, Mount Othrys glowed faintly, its ruined palace reforming piece by ancient piece. The Titan army whispered of destiny… and I tried to convince myself I belonged here. That I wasn’t still haunted by a promise I’d shattered. That I wasn’t pulled in two directions by loyalty, guilt, and the boy standing inches away from me. Luke stepped up beside my map table - far closer than necessary. I felt the heat of him before I saw him. His arm brushed mine as he leaned in to study the inked terrain, and my breath caught before I could stop myself. I stepped back, quick and controlled.
Luke didn’t say anything. Didn’t react. But something flickered across his expression - too quick for me to name. Something warm. Something I shouldn’t have noticed. Before either of us could speak, Alabaster slid in with a smirk and nudged Luke’s shoulder. “Your strategist is here,” he drawled. Luke stiffened instantly, shooting Alabaster a warning look - half embarrassment, half stop, not now. Ethan snickered behind them, enjoying Luke’s slip far too much. I kept my face perfectly neutral, as if my pulse hadn’t just vaulted into my throat. As if I hadn’t heard the slight emphasis on “your.” As if the idea didn’t rattle me more than any monster could.
“Positions,” I instructed coolly, gesturing to the map. My voice stayed steady. Athena would’ve been proud - if Athena were proud of me at all. The soldiers gathered in a loose semicircle. As I began reviewing the plan, murmurs threaded through the group:
“The silver ones moved again - ”
“Heard they’re hunting something - ”
“Haven’t seen Artemis’s crew this active in centuries - ”
“Hunters,” Alabaster muttered under his breath. “Great.” At the word, Luke instantly shifted closer to me. He didn’t touch me - he never would, not in front of the others - but he angled his body between me and the woods as if expecting a silver arrow to streak out of the shadows. I felt the movement, the quiet protectiveness of it, and forced myself not to react. He’s just being a commander, I told myself firmly. He’d do the same for anyone.
I continued the briefing, pointing to potential encounter zones. “Our scouts will track the Hunters’ patterns. Avoid contact if possible. If they’re after the same target we are - ”
That’s when another whisper rippled through the group:
“Word is, there’s a kid out there. A powerful one.”
“Child of the Big Three.”
“Could tip the whole war.”
Luke went rigid beside me. His jaw tightened. Shoulders tensed. Eyes narrowed with sharp, private fear. I paused mid-sentence, studying him from the corner of my eye. He breathed in through his nose - slow, controlled, like someone trying to swallow down panic. “Luke?” I asked quietly.
He immediately masked it. “Strategic complication, that’s all. A prophecy child changes the board.”
I nodded, accepting the explanation. It made sense. It was logical. Rational. But Luke wasn’t tense like a commander evaluating the battlefield. I thought he feared losing his advantage. His plan. His control. “Understood,” I said simply, turning back to the map.
Luke let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Neither of us spoke the truth. Neither of us dared. I dismissed the main group once the briefing concluded, but a single recruit remained standing at attention - a girl with wheat-blond hair braided tightly down her back. Dirt still clung to the hem of her jeans, and a sharp, anxious determination tightened her jaw. A daughter of Demeter. A newer recruit. Someone who had joined the Titan cause after the fall, desperate to prove herself.
I straightened, folding my arms behind my back. “Name.”
“Lily,” the girl answered, voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. Gods, she reminded me of Jason. A new recruit, barely sure if he would survive, desperate to prove himself. Only, he wasn't desperate to prove himself in the end after all - he was desperate to not get caught. Kronos found out he was a spy for Camp Jupiter, and now he's wanted for treason. If I want to protect him, I have to let him go. For my sake, for his sake. I'm so sorry Thalia, I thought to myself, I am truly sorry. I shook those thoughts away, opting instead to begin the evaluation - standard questions, tactical hypotheticals, loyalty checks. I delivered them with the same precise, clinical tone I always used. Luke stood a few paces behind me shoulder, observing in total silence.
Only… he wasn’t silent. Not to me. His attention pressed against my skin like a second pulse - too focused, too heavy. I felt it at my back, felt the heat of it, and that alone made my grip tighten around the parchment I held. Halfway through the assessment, Lily faltered on explaining how she would handle a sudden shift in enemy forces. I opened my mouth to redirect the question - and hesitated. Only for a heartbeat. A breath. A blink. But Luke shifted instantly, just behind me. I sensed it the way I sensed the wind changing direction - subtle, invisible, unmistakable. It wasn’t annoyance. It wasn’t skepticism. It was something raw, sharp-edged. Fear. Fear that my hesitation meant uncertainty. Fear I might not be as committed as I had been. Fear that I might slip away from him the same way so many others already had.
I pushed on smoothly, disguising the stutter in my thoughts, but the moment clung to me like a burr. Lily finished the evaluation - shaken but determined - and I dismissed her with a curt nod. As soon as the girl disappeared into the trees, Luke spoke behind me. "You hesitated," he said. Not accusatory. Not angry. Just… worried.
I turned, raising a brow. “For a fraction of a second. Hardly relevant.”
“You don’t hesitate.” His tone was sharper than he meant it to be. Too sharp for the moment. It carried an edge that scraped along my nerves - but beneath it, I heard what he didn’t want me to hear. Don’t change on me. Don’t leave too. Not you.
I inhaled slowly. “Luke, it was one breath. I’m fine.” His jaw worked, tension visible in every line of him. Then, abruptly, he stepped back. Looked at the ground. Looked anywhere but me.
“You did well,” he said finally, voice quieter. Strangled almost. “With her.” I blinked. Luke Castellan didn’t pass out praise like that. Not to anyone. Not unless he meant it far more than he could safely say.
“Thank y - ” I cut off, startled by how soft my own voice had become. Luke’s eyes snapped to mine, startled by my tone.
Something passed between us. Too warm, too close, too dangerous. He severed it immediately, straightening his shoulders. “That’s all,” he said brusquely, slipping back into command-mode like armour snapping shut. “We move out in ten.” He pivoted on his heel and walked away quickly - too quickly, like if he stayed a second longer he might say something he couldn’t take back. I watched him go, heart hammering an uneven rhythm. I knew command-mode Luke. I knew dangerous Luke. I knew ambitious Luke. But that flash of vulnerability? That fear that I might not belong at his side anymore? I didn’t know what to do with that. Or with the way it made something twist painfully in my chest. I didn’t know how to admit - even to myself - that the hesitation he had noticed had nothing to do with the recruit. It had been caused by him.
The night pressed in around the map tent, the canvas walls glowing faintly from the single lantern propped on a crate. Outside, the forest whispered - wind stirring branches, monsters shifting in the underbrush, the distant hum of Mount Othrys rebuilding itself stone by resurrected stone. Inside, I worked in silence. Maps blanketed the table - topographical sketches, monster-activity charts, paths carved through forests like veins. I traced patrol routes with a piece of charcoal, brows furrowed, my mind cycling through probabilities and countering every one of them with Athena-child precision. The flap of the tent rustled softly. Luke stepped inside.
He didn’t announce himself. He never did. He simply crossed the threshold and paused. I didn’t look up. “If you’re here to tell me to sleep, don’t waste your breath.”
Luke huffed a quiet laugh. “I was going to ask for your opinion, actually.”
That made me glance up. He was studying me in the lantern glow with an expression he’d deny until his last breath - something soft, something searching, something he only ever wore around me. He held a rolled parchment in his hand - the kind used only for missions so dangerous even the Titan generals double-checked them. I wiped charcoal from my fingers and gestured. “Show me.”
He stepped closer - too close - and unfurled the parchment beside my existing maps. I pulled my own closer so we could compare notes, and as I did - our hands brushed. Just a glancing touch. But we both froze like someone had cast petrification magic over the room. My breath hitched. Heat shot up my arm, startling and unwelcome and entirely impossible to ignore. I snatched my hand back a little too quickly, pretending to focus on the map. Luke cleared his throat and did the same. “Right. So. The mission.”
Neither of us mentioned the contact. Neither of us dared breathe too loudly. I leaned over the parchment. “You want to intercept the Hunters here?” I tapped a narrow ridge overlooking a valley. “That’s suicide.”
Luke crossed his arms, leaning just close enough that I could feel the warmth from his body. “It’s opportunity. They won’t expect us to take the high ground.”
“They won’t expect it because it’s a terrible idea,” I countered, rolling my eyes at him.
He smirked - smug, amused, infuriatingly fond. “Your caution is showing, strategist.”
“And your recklessness is showing, General,” I shot back.
The banter crackled between us, sharp and warm at the same time. I hated the tug in my chest when he smiled at me like that. I hid it well. Mostly. We continued like that - counterpoints, strategy, arguments layered with humour neither of us acknowledged. The lantern flickered. The maps shifted in the breeze. The rest of the world faded. It was only when I outlined a revised route - one safer, smarter, and impossible even for Luke to deny - that he fell silent. He stared at the map... but something in his expression wasn’t strategic. He hesitated. Just for a heartbeat. Like he wanted to say something that had nothing to do with patrol lines or monster activity. Something real and unarmored. But then he swallowed it. The moment closed. He stepped back, nodding once, the commander-mask settling over his features.
“I trust your instincts,” Luke said quietly. “Don’t second-guess them.” I blinked. That wasn’t strategy. That wasn’t command. That was… personal. An intimate confession disguised as professional praise.
I looked away before he could see the warmth rising to my cheeks. “Well,” I said, forcing my voice steady, “someone has to keep you alive.”
Luke’s laugh was softer than usual. The lantern burned lower as the night deepened, but I remained in the tent, my focus shifting from maps to the small stack of ancient texts piled at the edge of the table. I pulled one closer - a cracked leather volume stolen from some forgotten temple during the rise of Othrys - and flipped it open to a page covered in faded script. My brows furrowed. Patterns. Prophecies. Mentions of divine bloodlines tangled with Titan lineage. Clues no one else bothered to look for. I bent over the text, tracing the symbols with careful fingers. Behind me, Luke lingered. He didn’t pretend to be studying maps now. He didn’t pretend to be here for strategic oversight. He leaned against the tent pole, arms crossed, gaze fixed on me with a softness so unguarded that if I had turned around a moment earlier, I might have seen more truth in his eyes than he ever intended to show. My eyes shot quickly back towards the tome, refusing to think on what his look meant.
“Kass,” he said quietly. “Don’t dig too deep into that.”
I didn’t look up. “I’m cross-referencing Titan resurgence patterns. It’s necessary.”
“It’s dangerous,” he corrected. “Those texts - some of them twist their meaning if you stare too long. They’re designed to. Kronos isn’t… gentle with the minds he finds useful.”
The way he said it - strained, tight, like he feared losing something he couldn’t name - made me finally lift my head. “Why do you care what happens to me?” I asked.
The question hit the air like a thrown dagger. Luke froze. For one heartbeat, he looked exposed - caught between the truth and the armour he always wore. His mouth parted slightly, as if he was halfway to saying something honest. Something real. Something dangerous. “Kass…” he started, voice low, softer than I'd ever heard it. My heart stuttered. But then - like a shutter slamming down - his face hardened. His shoulders tensed. The commander mask reassembled piece by piece. “Because I need your mind intact,” he said. “You’re important to the cause.”
The lie scraped through the space between us. I heard it in the way his voice tightened at the end. Felt it in the tension coiled beneath his words. And it stung - more than I expected. I shut the book slowly. “Right. The cause.”
“Kass - ” Luke stepped forward slightly, eyes troubled. “That’s not what I - ”
“You made yourself clear,” I cut in. Too sharply. But the crack in my chest was real, and I didn’t know how to hide it fast enough. Our voices dropped without meaning to - soft, dangerous, intimate.
The air thickened. “You always do this,” Luke murmured, frustration and worry bleeding together. “You assume the worst. You assume I don’t - ”
He stopped himself. Hard. I swallowed, anger and something softer warring in my voice. “If you’re trying to protect me, just say it.”
“It’s not that simple,” he said, and gods, the pain in his tone was too honest for comfort. We stood inches apart, breathing the same tense air, both looking at the other like the truth was right there on the tip of our tongues but neither of us could risk saying it. The moment tightened. It might have broken open. But the tent flap snapped back.
A breathless messenger stumbled inside. “General, Lieutenant Colonel - there’s news. Urgent.”
Luke turned, relief and frustration warring in his expression. “What is it?”
The messenger swallowed hard, eyes wide. “Reports just came in. New, powerful children of the Big Three. They’re at Westover Hall.”
I felt the world tilt. Luke went still as stone.
The messenger added, “Hunters have been sighted near the area. And… Camp Half Blood may be moving.”
Silence. Heavy. Cold. My pulse thrummed in my ears. Luke exhaled once, slow and shaky. When he spoke, his voice was all command again - hard edges, cold iron. “Prepare the strike teams.” But when his eyes flickered to me, the softness returned for just a fraction of a second - fear buried beneath it. Fear of the prophecy. Fear of the coming storm. Fear of losing me… one way or another.