A Forgotten Maiden

Chapter 22

The apartment was bathed in silence, save for the occasional hum of the refrigerator and the faint sound of rain tapping against the windows. Percy had just drifted off into a light sleep when a frantic knock at his door jolted him awake. Before he could even fully process the sound, the door creaked open, and Eve stepped in, clutching her sketchpad to her chest.

"Percy," she whispered, her voice trembling. "There's... there's something in my room."

Percy was out of bed in an instant, his instincts kicking in. His hand automatically reached for the pen on his bedside table—Riptide, his trusted sword disguised in its harmless form.

"Stay here," he said, already moving toward the hallway.

Eve grabbed his arm. "No! You don't understand—it's not human. It... it's something else."

Her words sent a chill down Percy's spine. He nodded once and motioned for her to follow him. They moved quietly down the hall, the faint glow of the streetlights outside casting eerie shadows along the walls.

When they reached Eve's room, Percy stopped short. The air was heavy, the kind of weight that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. Standing by the window was a figure cloaked in darkness. She was tall, her form barely distinguishable from the shadows around her, but her eyes—cold, unyielding, and impossibly dark—cut through the dim light like obsidian shards.

Percy stepped in front of Eve, uncapping Riptide with a sharp click. The celestial bronze blade shimmered faintly in the gloom.

"Who are you?" Percy demanded, his voice steady. "What do you want with her?"

The figure tilted her head, her voice smooth and calm, yet laced with a power that sent shivers down Percy's spine. "Relax, child of Poseidon. I mean her no harm."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," Percy shot back, tightening his grip on Riptide. "Start talking."

The figure stepped forward, the shadows around her seeming to move with her. When she was fully in the light, Percy's breath caught. He recognized her. The dark eyes, the aura of ancient power—it could only be one person.

"Nyx," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Primordial of the Night."

Nyx smiled faintly, a glimmer of amusement in her otherwise expressionless face. "I see my reputation precedes me."

Percy didn't lower his sword. "What are you doing here? Why are you in Eve's room?"

Nyx's gaze flicked to Eve, who was peeking out from behind Percy. "She is my daughter," she said, her voice carrying an undeniable weight. "I've come to take her away from that... woman she lives with. Her father abandoned her there, and I've stood idly by for long enough. It's time she came to my realm, where she will no longer know fear or pain."

Eve gasped softly, her grip on Percy's arm tightening.

Percy's heart raced as he processed Nyx's words. His first instinct was to defend Eve, to fight if necessary, but he knew better than to pick a fight with a primordial being without reason.

"Your daughter?" he said, skeptical. "You expect me to just take your word for it? And even if you are her mother, you can't just take her without her consent."

Nyx's eyes narrowed. "You dare question me, demigod?"

Percy raised his chin, his voice firm. "I've faced gods and titans. You don't scare me." He paused, then added, "Much."

Nyx's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "Bold. Foolish, but bold."

Percy capped Riptide, the blade retracting back into its pen form. He turned to Eve, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's your choice," he said gently. "If you want to go with her, I won't stop you. But if you don't, she can't take you. Nyx has to swear on the Styx."