Rewriting to improve writing.
"Gods are born out of the need of humans but they shall die at the hands of the ones they've wronged."
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The world of demigods has never been a safe one, plagued by monsters, the wrath of gods, and the impending d...
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I cried to the gods, the skies were empty. I cried to the mirror, the reflection smiled back.
༺♥༻
Tw: Sexual talk, touching. Lots of touching. Dark!Percy makes an appearance.
*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿
The air inside the ancient temple shifted like a breath held too long—dense, warm, choking. The stone underfoot felt almost alive, humming softly with power, a low throb that pulsed through the soles of their shoes and up into their chests like a warning shot before a war. Dust particles swam through the fractured beams of gold-drenched light slicing in through the high, stained-glass slits, casting fractured symbols across the cracked floor. The group was still—too still—as if even daring to breathe would snap something sacred or ancient in half.
And then came the sound.
Footsteps—slow, deliberate, each one echoing like it was dropped into a well of time. Leather soles? Hooves? Claws? None of them could quite tell. The acoustics in the temple made it feel like the steps came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Y/N stiffened first. Her head jerked slightly, her eyes narrowing in sharp focus, like her body had tuned itself to a radio frequency no one else had quite caught yet. Her fingers twitched, already calculating something, some kind of mental equation between the echo duration and wall angle. She didn’t say anything—not yet. She was still trying to figure out how much of this was ancient magic, how much was real threat, and how much was just theater.
Then it hit.
A voice—low, grinding, the sound of tectonic plates kissing or rusted iron gears being forced into motion after a century of stillness—spoke from the shadows, and every hair on their bodies rose like wheat in the wind.
“Welcome, demigods. We’ve been expecting you.”
It wasn’t just a voice. It was a presence. Like the stone breathed it out, like the whole damn temple had spoken at once. It didn’t just send shivers down their spines—it pushed.
Percy’s head whipped toward the direction it came from, his hand instinctively going for Riptide, only to find—yeah. Nothing. Just skin, the cold of his palm hitting him like betrayal. “Oh, we are so screwed,” he mumbled, jaw slack as something clicked in his brain. Something fundamental had shifted. He blinked. “Like. Fully and completely boned.”
Annabeth didn’t even look at him. She was too busy assessing. Her eyes darted from one column to the next, tracking shadows, corners, inconsistencies. She had her brows furrowed so tightly she looked like she was trying to map a war strategy on her face.
