🌷 "We're Greek, Percy. We're all born with tragedy in our blood."
The only thing Daphne could ever be sure of was that she was not meant to be alive. Whatever you wanted to call it - a gut feeling or just some serious anxiety, she couldn't shake th...
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chapter XIV
🌷 Daphne had to take a sharp breath when the feeling of what the Golden Fleece had done to the land washed over her. Usually when you think of the phrase "monster island," you think craggy rocks and bones scattered on the beach like the island of the Sirens.
But the Cyclops's island was nothing like that - well, there was a dangerously swaying rope bridge stretching across a dark chasm, which wasn't a good sign, but still.
In the matter of minutes that it had taken for the sirens to break her spirit, the presence of the Fleece was blossoming it. Her hunger felt like no more of an issue, the dirt on her face feeling like it wasn't there anymore. Her parched throat was soothed and still, and the morning sun soaked over her kindly.
With a quick glance at her friends, she noticed that neither of them were quite as affected as she was. Sure, the fleece was breathing life into the area, but not into them fully. Daphne didn't know why her body was responding as though she was a plant herself, blooming underneath the enchant, but she didn't question it. Why would she? This was a gift. And she was busy.
The place looked like a Caribbean postcard, the perfect utopia of nature. It had lush green fields and tropical fruit trees glittering with blooming colours, fresh and delicious, pearly white beaches lining the shores.
As they sailed toward the shore, Annabeth breathed in the sweet air, finally realizing what Daphnes body had detected a while ago. "The Fleece."
Percy nodded. "Hey, but... if we take it away, will the island die?"
Annabeth shook her head. "It'll fade. Go back to what it would be normally, whatever that is."
Daphne released a breath, rejuvenated. "It feels..."
She didn't finish her sentence. Percy glanced warily at her, like he'd been doing since Circe's island. She didn't notice, utterly enamoured with the sweet aura of the place.
In the meadow at the base of the ravine, several dozen sheep were milling around. They looked peaceful enough, but they were huge - from the pictures Daphne had seen, about the size of hippos. Just past them was a path that led up into the hills. At the top of the path, near the edge of the canyon, was the massive oak tree Daphne had been seeing in her dreams since before she could ever count.
