𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚; percy jackson

𝟎𝟐 | new unknown boy

The soft hues of twilight blanketed Camp Half-Blood, but Meara barely noticed the colors deepening over the horizon.

Seated on the weathered porch of the Hermes cabin, she absently twisted her fingers together, her mind distant and restless.

She hadn't seen any of the Ares kids since returning from the forest earlier that day, and while she outwardly dismissed the thought, it gnawed at her.

She wasn't the kind to avoid confrontation, but even she knew that crossing Clarisse and her siblings—again—would only fuel the fire.

She was pulled out of her reverie by a familiar voice. "Meara!" Isla Curran's airy tone broke the quiet, but something in it was off—something weighted.

Meara looked up sharply to see her friend approaching, her golden hair glowing faintly in the last rays of sunlight.

Though Isla's face, usually adorned with a cheerful, effortless smile, was unusually serious.

"What's wrong?" Meara asked, her brow furrowing.

Isla sank onto the step beside her, tucking her legs neatly to one side. She hesitated before speaking, her tone careful but edged with unease. "I've been hearing some rumors," she said. "Apparently, some campers are saying you beat up the Ares kids."

Meara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Beat them up? Please. I was defending myself, and I held back—if anything, I went easy on them. It was all self-defense."

Isla gave her a look, her lips pressed together in something between sympathy and mild exasperation. "Well, rumor or not, Chiron wants to see you in the infirmary," she informed.

Meara shot to her feet, the tension in her body immediately rising. "Are the Ares kids whining to him now?"

"I don't know," Isla said with a shrug, brushing an invisible speck of dust off her knee. "I was just asked to pass the message. Good luck, troublemaker." She reached up and wrapped her arms around Meara in a sudden, warm hug.

Meara softened slightly, chuckling under her breath as she returned the embrace. "Thanks. I'll let you know what happens," she said, stepping away. With a deep breath, she turned and made her way toward the infirmary, her boots crunching lightly on the gravel.

The closer Meara drew to the infirmary, the sharp edges of her irritation began to dull, overtaken by a gnawing curiosity.

As she approached the doorway, low voices reached her ears. She hesitated, her instincts tugging at her to stay in the shadows, to listen before stepping into the light.

Inside, Chiron's voice was firm but edged with frustration. "...we need to find a way to bring them together," he said, his tone hushed. "But if we handle this poorly, it could make things worse."

Another voice spoke up, quieter but familiar. Grover. "They're my friends," he said, and there was a hint of discomfort in his words. "I'm really not sure about this."

Chiron's response came quickly. "Satyr, you don't understand the gravity of this situation. We have to think about the bigger picture—" He stopped abruptly.

Meara's heart sank as she realized her mistake.

She had been caught.

Instinctively, she shifted back a step, but the wood beneath her foot creaked. Too late.

"Miss Adair," Chiron called, his voice carrying with that perfect balance of authority and calm. "It's rather impolite to eavesdrop."

Straightening her spine, Meara stepped into the doorway.