𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𓍼p.jackson

001 The Center of it All

A scream woke Camp-Halfblood.

Startled campers stirred uneasily in their beds, their slumber disturbed by the unsettling sound. Clutching an assortment of weapons, hastily thrown on shirts, and sporting grass-stained socks, a collection of demigods rushed to the source of the disturbance. The disquieting echo of the scream lingered in the air as campers entered the amphitheater. Their movements, that were once a blend of tired urgency and confusion, turned into a shocking stiffness.

She was at the center of it all, her disheveled appearance and trembling demeanor portrayed the remnants of what proved itself not just a nightmare. A crescent of bodies formed around her. And at the front, a boy who looked at her with more meaning than anyone else in her life would ever.

Percy Jackson would swear his heart skipped a beat from a surge of conflicting emotions that hit him the moment his bloodshot eyes locked onto the girl's form. Relief washed over him at the sight of her alive before him, but a haunting sense of unease quickly replaced it. He could read Moria like a book, and vice versa, it came naturally due to them being romantically involved, but before a word was spoken, he knew something was wrong.

Gazing into her eyes, a chill swept through him, replacing the warmth he had hoped to find. Instead of the familiar spark of recognition, her eyes held a cold gaze, reminding him of their very first encounter. It was as if the bond they had forged had been erased, leaving behind a stranger whose gaze pierced into him.

The campers split, allowing room for an incoming camper to make their way to the front. Percy heard everything, the footsteps, the murmurs, the questions, but he kept his eyes locked on her.

Before he knew it, he took a step forward.

Her gaze wasn't fixated on his face, but on the weapon he clutched tightly. Each sword and spear around her seemed to be met with a wary suspicion, as if she viewed them all as potential threats. Her demeanor remained guarded, hiding her once-familiar features behind a mask of distrust and uncertainty.

She took two steps back.

With an air of composure tinged with urgency, Moria retrieved a dagger from the holster secured to her faded jeans. The sudden action silenced the chatter of the campers, their expressions morphing into a mix of surprise and apprehension as her gaze fixed upon them, the blade pointed in their direction. A few instinctively took a step back, aware what Moria was capable of.

"Mor?" Percy's voice cut through the tense atmosphere as the campers exchanged whispered rumors that grew louder with each passing moment, their eyes darting between the unfolding scene and the girl at its center.

Annabeth Chase, ever perceptive, noted the reaction shortly after making her way to the front and swiftly intervened.

"Percy, everyone, give her space," Annabeth urged, her tone firm as she motioned for the campers to step back. Despite her calm exterior, Annabeth was no better than Percy. Her eyes were glued to Moria, debating if this was a dream or reality. Moria should be dead, she was gone, her shroud was nothing but ashes.

Sensing the urgency in her voice, they reluctantly complied, but soon after, complete silence fell over them that even Annabeth wouldn't be able to cause.

"What is the matter here?" Chiron questioned, his voice carrying a soothing authority even in the middle of the night. His gaze then fell upon the very girl he had mourned, and a mixture of emotions flickered across his features. The camp director was unsure if seeing Moria Fane alive made him relieved, as he now knew her fate, but one thing was for certain: they needed to talk in private, "return to your cabins immediately."