𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ᴏɴᴇ

Baiting the Enemy.

🌊

SHE INDEED DID TRY AGAIN DAY AFTER DAY, ripping through the light easier and easier as time went by, needing less and less preparation to do so. At first, each attempt was a monumental effort, requiring deep concentration and often she'd just stand there for hours at a time, squinting and hoping she had somehow moved across the ship. The initial breakthroughs felt like pushing through thick, unyielding fog, each success a hard-won victory that left her breathless and trembling.

But as days turned into weeks, Rory found the process becoming more intuitive. She no longer needed elaborate rituals; a mere thought and a surge of willpower were enough to part the veil. The light that once resisted her now seemed to recognize her touch, parting with a grudging acceptance. The sensation of slicing through it became as natural as breathing, her confidence growing with each successful attempt.

Every time she did so, however, she always ended up utterly drained. The energy required to manipulate the light was immense, leaving her body and mind exhausted. She would collapse onto her bed, her limbs heavy and her thoughts muddled. Sleep would claim her almost instantly, pulling her into a deep, dreamless slumber that often lasted the rest of the day and felt more like a coma than an actual good night's sleep. Her body desperately needed the rest to recover, to replenish the energy she had expended.

In her remaining waking hours, she devoted herself to training with Luke. They would meet in one of the ship's various rooms, away from prying eyes, where they could practice without interruption. Luke was relentless, pushing her to her limits. Their swords clashed in a symphony of metal, each strike and parry honing their skills. Sweat dripped from their brows as they danced around each other, their movements a blur of precision and speed. Rory's muscles ached from the constant exertion, but she welcomed the pain. It was a reminder that she was getting stronger, that she was preparing for the battles that lay ahead.

They also spent hours strategizing their next moves. Maps and charts were spread out before them as they planned their journey, marking potential routes and identifying possible threats. They discussed contingencies and backup plans, ensuring they were prepared for any scenario. Rory's mind buzzed with the details, the endless possibilities and risks. But she knew they couldn't afford to leave anything to chance. The summer was quickly approaching, bringing with it the beginning of their plan.

There was nothing left for them to do but to wait and train, hoping that they would be ready for the impending war.

Weekly, they received messages from one of their spies back at camp, Silena Beauregard, Valentine's Counselor. Silena's reports were increasingly dire, much to their satisfaction. Camp was getting worse and worse without the protection of Thalia's magical barrier, and monsters had been attacking relentlessly, prompting the establishment of guard patrols around its perimeters. The once safe haven had turned into a battlefield, with demigods constantly on edge, weapons always within reach.

Chiron had been fired. His position had been taken over by Tantalus, a figure straight out of the Underworld. The gods, with no one to punish for the poisoning of Thalia's tree, had, as usual, found themselves a scapegoat. For once, that was good for them. Chiron may have been blind to the betrayal happening within his own camp last summer, but at the very least, he seemed to actually care about the campers. His replacement, Tantalus, would show no such empathy. The demigods were little more than pawns to him, and his presence would only serve to drive more discord within the camp itself.

Silena's messages detailed the growing unrest among the campers. Without Chiron's steady hand and the protective aura of Thalia's tree, fear and paranoia had taken root. Arguments broke out frequently, trust was in short supply, and the demigods were divided. Rory read each of Silena's missives with a growing sense of dread, the camp she had once considered a home was crumbling from within because of her and her actions. She had done this. Purposely too.