𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐄𝐋. pj & ac

I.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋

PHOENIX DID NOT LIKE TO SLEEP. Or a better word for it was hate... maybe even despise. It's something she always had a problem with, ever since she became conscious in this world. It's not that it didn't come or that she was a complete insomniac.

Sleep came to Phoenix; she just hated welcoming it. The nightmares—they were too terrifying. And I know what you're thinking. Phoenix being terrified? Impossible. Phoenix terrified, not the other way around. At least that's what the campers would say.

But Phoenix wasn't nearly as indestructible as they believed her to be. She had a lot of dark nights but there was one recurring dream that tormented her. One where her skin felt like it was burning off the bone, and a deafening voice called her name. That is until it was replaced with the sound of crackling thunder.

on those nights she would bring her sleeping bag closer to the window and look out at the constellations in the sky. She'd memorize each name, studying them all until Apollo rose in the east.

She had little interest in camp activities. Only ever attending because she was forced to, on off days she usually spent her days doing nothing and talking to no one. No one dared to argue with that. Not even Chiron, who basically raised her, truly wanted anything to do with her. Sometimes on the rare times she left the cabin, she'd expect him to call her over. But he would only give her a look that she couldn't quite decipher.

Phoenix understood that she was born alone, and she didn't mind continuing to live like that until Clothos cut the fateful thread.

Everyone seemed to happily adhere to her ongoing method except two people: Isabella Kim and Luke Castellan.

The first was more of a puppy dog than anything else, she liked everyone. The daughter of Eros was simply too loving for her own good. Bella would offer to braid her hair, often compliment her, and at times even offer to do something outside of the cabin. Phoenix always refused.

She would especially bake sugar cookies in the shape of hearts for Phoenix. In case of sticky fingers from the Hermes kids, she would leave them in a baggie under her pillow. She was sweet and caring. Everything Phoenix wasn't, or at least never got the chance to be.

Now Luke Castellan...He was, He was a strange one. Not in appearance—like at all. And Phoenix guessed he was pretty normal personality-wise. It was the fact he was the only one that seemed to truly believe in her. He would encourage her to train, and make connections with the campers. Which she thought was strange. Because Phoenix was an abomination. She wasn't meant to be cared for or make connections . She was meant to be abandoned, shunned, and hated. That's what always seemed to happen anyway.

But for some reason, Luke seemed to care enough about her. Which felt nice at times. Just at times...

"Phee?" Luke called her, "Do you want to—"

"No." She bit back, she stayed in her usual spot by the window. Phoenix kept rubbing the charcoal onto the sketch pad. Making shadows on her minotaur drawing, for some reason, it seemed to only have one horn.

"You didn't even let me finish."

Phoenix didn't bother to look up. That was until she heard another voice.

"Isn't that the monster I fought?" It seethed in irritation." the one that took my mom."

Her gaze flew up. A lanky boy stood before her that seemed to be around her age. He was tall, with olive skin and seafoam eyes. His dark hair curled around his ears. If Phoenix cared enough she'd probably find him somewhat attractive. But she never did.