𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛʏ

Maia.

🌎

    HIS MOTHER, BARELY GLANCED AT HIM, HER EXPRESSION UNPERTURBED, AS IF HE HAD MERELY SPELLED A GLASS OF WATER OR MADE AN OFFHAND COMMENT. “Oh, hush now, Arcas,” she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, as though his words were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. It was clear from her tone that this was a routine reprimand, something she had done many times before.

    The centaurs froze mid-step, their ears twitching, nostrils flaring as they caught the scent the boy had so innocently—or perhaps not so innocently—pointed out. Rory's heart plummeted like a stone sinking into a deep, dark lake. She had been so close, so sure that they were in the clear. The centaurs had been about to leave, their suspicions allayed. Rory had just wanted a quiet trip to California before being confronted with Kronos.

    The silence in the cabin shattered as the first centaur lunged at her. His muscles rippled beneath his dark coat, the raw power in his frame evident as he moved with terrifying speed. Rory’s breath caught in her throat. She was out of practice—the last few months had dulled her reflexes. Everything seemed to slow down, the spear in the centaur’s hand slicing through the air towards her like a viper ready to strike. She saw it coming, saw the deadly point aimed directly at her, but her limbs felt heavy, sluggish. Her mind screamed for her to move, to dodge, to summon any of the powers that lay dormant within her.

    But she didn’t have to. At the last possible moment, the centaur’s spear veered off course. It plunged into the seat just inches from her head, the force of the impact sending splinters flying. Rory stared at the spear, her pulse pounding in her ears, as the centaur grunted in frustration, yanking at the weapon that was now firmly lodged in the seat beside her. He had missed. Somehow, despite the clear shot he had, he had missed. Had he tripped? Lost his balance? The thought barely had time to register before Rory’s instincts kicked in.

    The centaur’s efforts to free his spear inadvertently blocked the narrow entrance to the cabin, giving Rory precious seconds to act. She moved on autopilot, muscle memory taking over as she bent down, slipping her knife from its sheath in her boot. The familiar weight of the blade in her hand was comforting. In one swift motion, she slashed at the spear, the blade slicing cleanly through the wood and splintering it in two. The centaur let out a roar of rage, his eyes blazing as he swung the broken haft at her in a desperate attempt to land a blow.

    Rory sidestepped his wild swing, adrenaline surging through her veins. Even out of practice, the years of combat training she had endured at Camp Half-Blood had honed her instincts, making her reactions almost second nature. The centaur’s movements were clumsy, fueled by anger rather than skill. She could see the openings in his defense, the places where he left himself vulnerable. Without hesitation, she lunged forward, her knife slicing through the air with deadly precision. The blade met the centaur’s throat, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still.

    Then, in a flash of golden light, the centaur disintegrated, his form dissolving into a cloud of dust that shimmered in the dim light of the cabin. Rory barely had time to register her victory before the second centaur burst through the swirling remnants of his friend, his sword drawn and ready. He charged at her with a guttural roar, his blade slashing through the air in a series of wild, frenzied swings.

    Rory’s muscles screamed in protest as she dodged the centaur’s relentless attacks, her body twisting and turning in a desperate dance to avoid the deadly arcs of steel. She could feel the heat of the blade as it sliced the air inches from her skin, the whistling sound of each swing making her heart race faster. The second centaur was strong and he fought with the savage, unrefined brutality of a creature born to hunt and kill. Every move he made was calculated to overwhelm, to crush his opponent with sheer force.