𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚; percy jackson

𝟎𝟏 | powered by wind

Meara Adair crouched behind the massive trunk of a tree in the Camp Half-Blood forest, her heart racing as she strained to listen to the voices of those pursuing her.

"Where is she?" Clarisse's voice sliced through the air, dripping with fury. It was clear she hadn't taken Meara's act of revenge lightly. "Search for her! We can't lose her now!" she barked, directing her comrades with the authority she wielded so effortlessly.

You might be wondering what led to this moment; When Meara discovered that the children of Ares had stolen her necklace—her only magical item, a treasured gift from her godly parent—just for the fun of it, rage consumed her. Luke, her friend, had urged her to let it go, but anger clouded her judgment, compelling her to seek revenge.

Yes, revenge against the offspring of the literal god of war.

Yet, she was not foolish. During dinner, she had snuck into their cabin and hidden some of their belongings throughout the space. It had taken them three long days to realize something was amiss.

Now, they had decided to track her into the woods.

Suddenly, a stick snapped under her foot. Meara steadied herself against the rough bark of the tree, peeking around cautiously while trying to control her breathing. To her dismay, one of the Ares campers stood directly in front of her. Panic surged as she retreated, her mind racing for a plan.

Meara took a deep breath and stepped out from her hiding place. Almost immediately, one of the boys spotted her. "Clarisse! We've got her!" he shouted, sprinting toward her, eager for recognition.

Meara locked eyes with him, but as he closed in, she shifted her gaze to a nearby bush. In an unexpected burst of movement, it rustled violently, and a rock tumbled out, tripping the boy as he stumbled forward. A soft chuckle escaped Meara's lips, a sound that only served to heighten Clarisse's fury.

With a flick of her wrist, Clarisse tossed her long curls over her shoulder and muttered under her breath while walking towards the girl.

"Think about the consequences. Do you think Chiron will be pleased to learn that the Ares kids beat up a poor twelve-year-old in the middle of the forest?" Meara's voice remained calm, even as she assessed their numbers. She counted five, with two more hidden behind a tall tree.

"A pretty annoying twelve-year-old, and also, one of the best sword fighters at camp," one of Clarisse's lackeys chimed in, drawing Meara's glare. Clarisse silenced him with a swift hand gesture.

"You're not so tough now, are you?" Clarisse taunted, closing the distance between them. Meara returned her gaze defiantly. "You're just a little child—Chiron's favorite one, no doubt. But I wonder, has anyone ever seen you fight outside the training arena?" Clarisse's laughter echoed in the clearing.

"Come on, you'd never take me on one-on-one. You need a whole gang standing behind you to gain the courage to threaten me," Meara retorted, tilting her head in challenge.

"What did you just say?" Clarisse demanded, narrowing her eyes. "Do you have a hearing problem?" Meara shot back.

"It's no wonder you're still unclaimed. I wouldn't claim a child like you either." Clarisse sneered, a cruel smile creeping across her face.

Meara struggled to maintain her composure, her blood boiling beneath the surface. "Better than being claimed by a father who hates me," she shot back, her gaze unwavering.

In an instant, Clarisse hurled her spear, advancing with deadly determination. Meara quickly snatched a thick stick from the ground, prepared for the confrontation. She knew she couldn't seriously hurt them—without protective gear, things could escalate quickly.

Clarisse's spear flew through the air, aimed directly at Meara's stomach. She had lost her rationality, and Meara saw an opportunity to turn the tide.

With deft reflexes, she caught the spear mid-flight thanks to the force of wind abnormally slowing just when she reached out her hand, but before she could regain her balance, another Ares kid lunged at her back, tugging at her hair. What a professional move.

Meara elbowed him hard in the hip, forcing him to release his grip, then swiftly turned and kicked him in the stomach.

"Stop!" a muscular boy yelled as he lunged at her in a desperate attempt to subdue her.

As the wind whipped through her hair, Meara stumbled backward, feeling a surge of energy coursing through her veins. She had to let go of the stick; she couldn't manage both that and the spear.

As she regained her footing, Meara barely dodged a kick aimed at her head. "What the hell, man?" she muttered in frustration. She ducked just in time, and the girl's foot connected with the boy instead, sending him tumbling off her.

What a bizarre scene; she thought to herself. Out of the corner of her eye, Meara noticed two other campers rushing toward her, Clarisse leading the charge.

A girl who ran by Clarisse's side, infuriated, charged at Meara, but she had no time to stand back up. Meara struck the girl's right leg, and to her shock, she saw her opponent suddenly convulsing.

What kind of power did Clarisse wield in that spear? As Meara glanced to inspect the weapon, she realized it wasn't Clarisse's spear that had caused the girl's shock; it was her simple wooden stick that she picked up earlier.

"Get back, everyone! She has something loaded with electricity!" someone yelled. Meara turned to see the rest of the Ares campers scrambling to aid their fallen comrades.

Clarisse glared at her, a mixture of rage and disbelief etched on her face. Two of the Ares campers who had been lurking behind the tree rushed to her side, whispering hurriedly, their eyes darting toward Meara.

They had been watching, observing her every move. In just seconds the group gathered around, lifting their injured friends to carry them back to their cabin.