They were a small group, a paltry force of perhaps thirty or forty demigods clad in mismatched battle armour, the metal dull and scuffed as if salvaged from ancient battlefields. Each was mounted upon a skeletal horse, its bony frame visible beneath the tattered remnants of ghostly barding.
The horses shifted and whinnied, the sound like dry leaves skittering across cobblestones. At the forefront rode a figure holding aloft a purple banner emblazoned with the stark, black design of a scythe.
Daphne squinted, trying to pierce the haze in her mind. She couldn't place the demigod holding the banner. If she hadn't spent the last several hours emptying flagons of ambrosia-laced wine, maybe she could have. The alcohol still clung to her like a shroud, slowing her thoughts and blurring the edges of reality.
Toni, Ethan, Mason, and Lewis were similarly compromised. They sat on their own spectral steeds, the skeletal horses pawing at the ground, their riders glancing around at the small, unsettling army before them.
Most of the assembled demigods were either still drunk, swaying precariously in their saddles, or visibly recovering from a monumental binge, their faces pale and clammy.
None of them were completely sober – far from it – but they had managed to achieve a level of functioning inebriation, enough to (hopefully) wield a sword and follow basic commands. Daphne wasn't so sure about herself. Perhaps she should have sobered up properly, found the strength to resist the oblivion.
The lead horseman, the one carrying the banner, spurred his skeletal mount forward with a scraping of bone against bone. He halted a few yards away, the silence suddenly thick and heavy. Slowly, with deliberate theatricality, he reached up and unclasped his helm. It clattered to the ground, revealing the face of Kronos. His eyes burned with a cold, incandescent rage, molten gold shimmering within their depths.
Daphne felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Questions flooded her mind, questions she didn't want the answers to. What was she supposed to do now? What were they supposed to do, facing the Titan Lord reborn? She instinctively positioned herself near the back of their little group, close to Toni. Ethan, ever the resourceful one, was conspicuously absent, likely attempting to smuggle them a last-minute resupply of liquid courage.
Toni sat stiffly on her skeletal horse, her gaze unwavering, fixed solely on Kronos as he revealed his true identity. She seemed almost paralyzed, her usual vibrant energy dimmed. Without looking at Daphne, she reached over and grasped her hand, giving it a gentle and reassuring squeeze.
Turning her head, Daphne observed Toni, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Everything okay?" she asked, her voice laced with a concern she couldn't quite hide.
The daughter of Hermes usually projected an air of unshakeable confidence, a carefully constructed facade of breezy nonchalance. But now, the cracks were showing. The bravado was gone, replaced by a haunting vulnerability.
Toni bit the inside of her lip, a nervous habit Daphne knew well. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said quietly, giving a shaky nod. The words were meant to reassure Daphne, but they sounded hollow, a transparent attempt to bolster her own crumbling resolve.
"We'll be fine," Daphne promised, her voice barely a whisper. The statement sounded less like an assurance and more like desperate wishful thinking, a fragile hope cast against the looming darkness.
From the rise opposite them, Annabeth emerged, leading a small group of Apollo campers. Seeing her, seeing them, clearly caught the makeshift army off guard. The Apollo campers faltered, their steps slowing as they were visibly shaken, their young faces etched with disbelief and fear.
The monsters they had been pursuing, a ragged band of stragglers from some forgotten war, limped towards the Titan's line. They reached the skeletal horses and were instantly absorbed into the new force, their brutish forms somehow becoming even more grotesque as they merged with the Titan's power.
YOU ARE READING
A web of fates | Percy Jackson and the Olympians
FanfictionDaphne Evans, a thirteen year old girl. On the outside, she's just an ordinary girl but in reality that's not true. At the age of nine, she watched her mother die and then she was dragged to Camp Halfblood by a satyr. She's a demigod. That's what th...
