Heavens fallen to the sea

Chapter Eleven: Unraveling

Brandon couldn't sleep that night. The conversation with Chiron echoed in his mind, every word twisting like a knife. Hera was searching for something—*for him*. He was sure of it now. The figure in the woods, the warning about his power, everything was coming together. But instead of answers, it left him with more questions.

What was he supposed to do?

He tossed and turned in his bunk, the familiar creaks of the Hermes cabin doing nothing to calm his racing mind. Connor was snoring loudly, and the other campers were sprawled in various positions around the room, sleeping soundly. For them, everything was normal. But for Brandon, the weight of the night was unbearable.

He couldn't stay here. Not like this.

Without thinking, he quietly slipped out of bed, grabbed a hoodie, and crept out of the cabin. The cool night air hit him as soon as he stepped outside, but it did little to clear his head. He wandered toward the training field, needing space to think—or maybe just breathe. He didn't even know anymore.

As he reached the field, he spotted a familiar figure leaning against a training dummy, silhouetted by the pale moonlight. Percy. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he considered turning back. But it was too late—Percy had already seen him.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Percy asked, his voice soft but carrying easily in the stillness of the night.

Brandon shook his head, moving to stand beside him. "Yeah. Too much going on in my head."

Percy nodded in understanding. "I get that. After Chiron's talk, I figured you might be feeling... off."

Brandon let out a bitter laugh. "That's putting it lightly."

They stood in silence for a moment, staring out over the empty field. The night was cool, the stars above them twinkling in a sky so vast it made everything seem insignificant. But for Brandon, it was impossible to ignore the heaviness in his chest.

Finally, Percy turned to him, his eyes full of concern. "Brandon... I know something's been bothering you. And I get it if you don't want to talk about it, but you don't have to go through this alone."

Brandon felt a lump form in his throat. Percy's kindness made it harder, somehow. He wanted to tell him everything—about the dreams, about the figure in the woods, about the truth he was starting to fear. But the words stuck, tangled in the fear that if Percy knew, if *anyone* knew, they would see him as a threat. Just like Hera did.

"I don't even know how to explain it," Brandon said, his voice quieter than he intended. "It's like... there's this power inside me, and I don't understand it. I can feel it, but I can't control it. And now, with everything Chiron said about Hera looking for a threat, I—" He stopped, his throat tightening. "I think she's looking for me, Percy."

Percy didn't respond immediately, his expression thoughtful. He crossed his arms, looking down at the grass. "Why do you think that?"

Brandon hesitated, but the dam was starting to break. He couldn't keep this inside anymore. "I've been having these dreams. It's always the same—this voice calling me, pulling me into the darkness. And then, a few nights ago, I went into the forest because I couldn't take it anymore. There was... something there. A figure, made of shadows. It told me things, Percy. Things about my powers, about how I'm more dangerous than I realize."

Percy's eyes widened, his posture tensing. "What kind of things?"

Brandon looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "That Hera's been holding me back. That I'm... chaos. That I could become something terrible if I don't learn to control it."

Percy was silent for a long time, processing what Brandon had said. Brandon braced himself for the worst—fear, anger, maybe even rejection. But when Percy finally spoke, his voice was calm.

"Whatever that thing was, Brandon, it sounds like it was trying to manipulate you. You can't trust something that comes out of the shadows like that."

Brandon's breath hitched. "But what if it's right? What if Hera *does* know something about me, something she's not telling anyone?"

Percy frowned, clearly torn. "I don't know what Hera's deal is, but that doesn't change who you are. You're not some ticking time bomb, Brandon. You're a demigod like the rest of us. We all have stuff we don't understand—powers we can't control. But that doesn't mean you're dangerous."

Brandon wanted to believe him, he really did. But the doubt gnawed at him, relentless. "What if I hurt someone?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What if I lose control and something bad happens?"

Percy stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."

The words settled in Brandon's chest like a weight lifting, if only slightly. Percy's steady presence, his unwavering belief in him, made it harder to hold onto the fear. But it was still there, lurking beneath the surface.

"I just... don't know what to do," Brandon admitted, his voice cracking. "I don't want to hurt anyone. But I feel like I'm slipping."

Percy's gaze softened, and he squeezed Brandon's shoulder. "You're not alone in this. No one expects you to have all the answers, least of all me. But I do know one thing—you're not your powers. You're not defined by what you can or can't control. You're defined by what you *choose* to do with it."

Brandon looked up, meeting Percy's eyes for the first time that night. There was a strength in Percy's gaze that gave him hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way through this without losing himself.

"You don't have to fight this alone," Percy repeated, his voice firm. "I'm here, Brandon. Whatever happens."

The weight in Brandon's chest shifted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel something other than fear. Maybe Percy was right. Maybe there was a way to control this—to figure out who he really was without losing himself in the process.

But as they stood there in the quiet, under the stars, Brandon couldn't help but wonder: How long could he keep the shadows at bay before they consumed him entirely?