Heavens fallen to the sea

Chapter Seven: A Test of Will

Brandon stared at Percy, trying to absorb what he'd just said. Percy Jackson, the guy who practically *saved* the world more than once, knew what it was like to feel like an outsider? Brandon wasn't buying it. Everyone *liked* Percy. Everyone looked up to him. There was no way Percy could understand what it was like to be the son of a goddess like Hera—unwanted, expected to fail, and constantly running from the weight of her impossible expectations.

"Yeah, sure," Brandon said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Everyone probably adored you the second you showed up. You're *Poseidon's* son. Big Three and all that. I'm just—" He paused, swallowing hard. "I'm just a disappointment waiting to happen."

Percy leaned back in his chair, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "You know that's not how it went, right? People didn't trust me at first. Some were scared of me. A lot of them thought I'd cause more trouble than I was worth because of who my dad was."

Annabeth nodded, chiming in. "Percy's right. Being a child of one of the Olympians doesn't automatically make things easier. In a lot of ways, it makes it harder. The expectations are... bigger. More dangerous."

Brandon felt a tightness in his chest as he listened to them. Maybe they really did understand, at least a little. Still, there was no comparison between being the son of Poseidon and being the son of Hera. Everyone respected the sea god, despite his faults. Hera, though? She was known for her grudges, her temper, and the way she punished people—demigods especially.

He opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden loud voice interrupted.

"Hey, son of Hera!"

Brandon stiffened, recognizing the voice immediately. It was Connor Stoll, one of the Hermes kids who was notorious for stirring up trouble. The other campers in the pavilion fell silent again, watching the scene unfold with uncomfortable interest.

Brandon didn't turn around. He didn't need to. The mocking tone in Connor's voice was enough to make his stomach churn. He knew where this was going, and it wasn't anywhere good.

Percy, however, spun in his seat to glare at Connor. "Not now, man," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Connor ignored him, sauntering over with a few other Hermes kids trailing behind him, all of them smirking. "Come on, Percy. We're just curious. Never had a kid of *Hera* in camp before. Figured we should get to know him better."

Brandon could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he didn't move. He just stared at his plate, trying to keep his breathing steady.

"Back off, Connor," Annabeth said sharply, her eyes flashing with irritation. "This isn't the time for your games."

But Connor wasn't deterred. He took a step closer to their table, crossing his arms. "Relax, we're not here to start anything. We just want to know what kind of powers Hera's kid has. I mean, we all know she's not exactly the goddess of war or storms or anything cool. What's your deal, huh? You make people really good at marriage or something?"

A few of the campers snickered at Connor's words, and Brandon's face burned with humiliation. His hands clenched into fists under the table as he tried to will himself to stay calm. But it wasn't easy. The shame, the anger, and the fear were all swirling together inside him, threatening to boil over.

Before Brandon could respond, Percy stood up, his face dark with anger. "I said, back off."

Connor raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, easy, Percy. No need to get so worked up. Just asking a question."

Brandon finally stood, his legs shaky but his voice steady enough. "You want to know what powers I have?" he asked, his voice colder than he intended. He didn't look at Percy or Annabeth, didn't let himself think about the consequences of what he was about to do.

Connor's smirk widened. "Yeah, I do. Come on, show us. We're all dying to know."

The thing was, Brandon didn't *want* to show them. He didn't want to reveal the power that lurked deep inside him, the one tied so intimately to Hera's domain. But Connor had pushed too far, and now all Brandon could feel was the burning need to prove himself. To make them understand that he wasn't someone to be messed with.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then he reached down into the power that had been there all along, the part of him that he had tried to ignore since he'd arrived at camp. The power of *Hera*. Of family, yes, but also of control, of dominance. And of vengeance.

The air around him seemed to shift, growing heavier with tension. A strange stillness settled over the pavilion, and when Brandon opened his eyes, he saw the surprised looks on the faces of the campers around him. They could feel it too—the sudden change in the atmosphere, like something ancient and dangerous had just woken up.

"Brandon, don't—" Percy started to say, but it was too late.

The pavilion's torches flickered wildly, and the flames turned a sickly shade of green, casting eerie shadows across the tables. The ground beneath their feet rumbled softly, and a gust of wind swept through the open space, though the sky outside remained calm. It was as if the very air around Brandon was bending to his will, reacting to his emotions.

Connor's smirk faltered, replaced by a look of uncertainty. He took a step back, clearly not expecting this.

"Is that what you wanted to see?" Brandon asked, his voice low and steady, though his heart was racing. He didn't know how long he could keep this up without losing control completely. "You wanted to see what the son of Hera can do?"

The wind picked up again, rattling the plates on the tables, and several of the younger campers gasped, shrinking away from the sudden force. Even Annabeth looked uneasy, her eyes flicking between Brandon and Percy.

"Brandon," Percy said again, his voice firmer now, but still calm. "That's enough. You've made your point."

Brandon blinked, the sound of Percy's voice cutting through the haze of power that was coursing through him. He took a shaky breath, trying to pull back, to rein in the power before it slipped out of his control entirely. Slowly, the wind began to die down, the flames in the torches returning to their normal color.

For a moment, the pavilion was completely silent.

Connor, still looking slightly rattled, gave a nervous laugh. "Okay, okay, point taken. Didn't know you had *that* kind of power. My bad." He shot a quick glance at Percy, then turned to his friends. "Come on, let's go."

As Connor and his group slunk away, the other campers slowly returned to their meals, though the atmosphere was still tense, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air.

Brandon sank back into his seat, his body trembling from the effort of holding back the full force of his abilities. His heart was still racing, and his mind was a mess of emotions—fear, anger, and a strange sense of relief.

Percy sat down next to him, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave Brandon a small, reassuring nod. "You didn't have to do that, but... you handled it."

Annabeth, sitting across from them, looked at Brandon with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "That was more than I expected from a child of Hera," she admitted quietly. "You have more power than you realize, Brandon."

Brandon swallowed hard, his mouth dry. He didn't know what to say. The truth was, the display of power had scared *him*, too. It had felt... overwhelming. Dangerous. But it had also felt *good*—a surge of control in a world where he had always felt powerless.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he said softly, barely loud enough for Percy and Annabeth to hear. "I don't even know what that *was*."

Percy put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Brandon didn't say anything, but for the first time, he felt a tiny flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as alone in this as he thought.