A web of fates | Percy Jackson and the Olympians

XIV| some more join the party

The metallic tang of exhaustion still coated Theo's tongue, his limbs heavy from what felt like a blink of sleep. Yet, even before the last tendrils of dream had fully dissipated, he was roused by the urgent presence of Percy and Annabeth.

There was no time for a proper wake-up; duty called, cold and sharp. He was pulled, almost literally, from a state of semi-consciousness into the grim reality of impending war, propelled by a silent, shared understanding of the desperate task ahead: rallying what remained of their meager forces.

The air grew heavy with anticipation as they reached the Central Park Reservoir, a vast expanse of dark water mirroring the deepening twilight sky. Thalia, her silver circlet glinting faintly in the fading light, stood with the gathered head counsellors – a mosaic of tense, determined faces, each bearing the weight of their cabin's fate.

Around them, the city began to awaken in a different way; lights blinked on in distant skyscrapers, a thousand tiny stars against the darkening canvas, many surely on automatic timers, oblivious to the battle about to unfold.

Streetlamps, like lonely sentinels, cast an eerie, yellow glow around the water's edge, stretching distorted shadows of leafless trees, making the familiar landscape twist into something ancient and foreboding. The quiet hum of the distant city was a stark, disquieting counterpoint to the hushed, anxious murmurs of the demigods.

"They're coming," Thalia confirmed, her voice a low, taut whisper that carried surprising authority. She pointed north with a silver arrow, its fletching shimmering. "One of my scouts just reported they've crossed the Harlem River. There was no way to hold them back, not without a full army ourselves. The enemy army..." She shrugged, a gesture of stark finality. "It's huge. Uncountable."

A collective shiver ran through the gathered demigods, a ripple of dread. Theo felt his stomach clench, but he forced himself to focus.

"We'll hold them at the park," Percy declared, his voice steady despite the grim news. He turned to a nervous-looking satyr. "Grover, you ready?"

Grover, his hooves shuffling slightly on the pavement, nodded, his brow furrowed with a mix of apprehension and fierce resolve. "As ready as we'll ever be. If my nature spirits can stop them anywhere, this is the place. The trees, the earth... they'll fight with us."

"Yes, we will!" boomed another voice, jarringly loud and self-important. An incredibly old, plump satyr shoved his way through the ranks, stumbling clumsily over his own spear. He was comically clad in pieces of rough wood-bark armour that barely covered his expansive belly, more decorative than protective.

"Leneus?" Percy said, a flicker of surprise, almost amusement, in his eyes.

"Don't act so surprised, young demigod!" Leneus huffed, puffing out his chest. "I am a leader of the Council, and you did tell me to find Grover. Well, I found him, and I'm not going to let a mere outcast lead the satyrs without my superior guidance!"

Behind Leneus's back, Grover made exaggerated gagging motions, his face a silent scream of utter exasperation. But the old satyr, oblivious, grinned broadly, puffing out his chest as if he alone were the savior of the day. "Never fear! We'll show those Titans a thing or two about satyr discipline!"

By some miracle, Percy managed to keep a perfectly straight face, though Theo thought he saw a muscle twitch in the corner of his jaw. "Um... yeah. Well, Grover, you won't be alone. Theo, Annabeth and the Athena cabin will make their stand here, bolstering your nature spirits. And me, and... Thalia?" Percy looked at the daughter of Zeus, a silent question in his eyes.

She patted his shoulder, a rare, gentle gesture. "Say no more, Son of Poseidon. The Hunters are ready. We live for the hunt, and this is the biggest game of all."