Betrayed But Never Forgotten

Well hello Nyx

Piper's POV

A hush fell over the battlefield as Nyx and Percy materialized between the armies, their appearance sending ripples of power across the blood-soaked ground. My breath caught in my throat, not at their sudden arrival—though that was shocking enough—but at the creature perched on Percy's shoulder.

A black and white dragon, no larger than a house cat, regarded the scene with eyes that swirled with galaxies. Its scales shimmered with an otherworldly iridescence, shifting between deepest black and blinding white with each breath it took. Thin wisps of smoke curled from its nostrils, and when it opened its mouth in a silent hiss, I glimpsed teeth like shards of obsidian.

Nyx drew her sword—a blade that seemed carved from the very fabric of night itself—while Percy unsheathed his weapon, the metal gleaming with an inner light that defied the growing darkness. The primordial goddess threw back her head and let loose a battle cry that shook the heavens, the sound reverberating through my bones like the toll of an ancient bell.

She surged forward, her form becoming a blur of shadow and starlight as she tore through the monster ranks. Where her blade fell, creatures disintegrated into golden dust, their screams cut short by the goddess's merciless efficiency. Percy followed in her wake, his body beginning to emit a soft glow that intensified with each step.

Then, in a transformation that stole the breath from my lungs, the tiny dragon launched from his shoulder and expanded—growing, stretching, its body elongating until it towered twelve feet above the ground, wingspan blocking out what remained of the twilight sky. Its scales now pulsed with power, and when it roared, the sound split the air like thunder.

Percy leapt onto its back with practiced ease, and together they took to the skies. The dragon climbed higher and higher, until they were no more than a dark silhouette against the churning clouds. Then, without warning, it opened its maw and unleashed hell.

Flames cascaded down in brilliant streams of blue-white fire, so hot that the air itself seemed to ignite. Where the inferno touched, monsters were instantly reduced to ash, their dying screams lost in the roar of the conflagration. The battlefield transformed into a patchwork of destruction—charred earth and golden dust swirling together in a macabre dance.

Through the chaos, I watched, transfixed, as Percy stood atop the dragon's back, hundreds of feet in the air, directing the assault with subtle gestures. His cloak whipped around him like living shadow, and even from this distance, I could see his eyes burning with a fierce light.

Then, in a move that defied all logic, Percy stepped off the dragon's back and plummeted toward the earth. My heart seized in my chest as he fell, a dark streak against the flame-lit sky. Yet he landed with impossible grace, his impact creating a crater in the soft earth. He rose to his feet without so much as a stumble, drawing his sword in one fluid motion and carving a path of destruction through any monster foolish enough to stand in his way.

His movements were a blur of lethal precision—each strike finding a vital point, each dodge flowing seamlessly into the next attack. The air around him seemed to warp and bend, as if reality itself couldn't quite contain the power he wielded.

In mere minutes, what had been an overwhelming army was reduced to nothing but scattered piles of golden dust, carried away by the wind. The dragon, its work complete, descended from the heights, shrinking as it glided down until it was once again the size of a kitten when it alighted on Percy's outstretched arm.

Silence fell over the battlefield as Nyx and Percy approached where we stood, shell-shocked and awestruck. Behind us, Silena and Charles were helping the Apollo campers tend to the wounded, their hands moving with practiced efficiency despite the exhaustion evident in their slumped shoulders.