American Royalty III

Part 17: The Forest of Dean

When Percy, Jason, Valerie, and Connor arrived in the forest, they were greeted by an eerie stillness. The towering trees loomed overhead, their shadows stretching across the forest floor. Not even the usual sounds of rustling leaves or chirping birds broke the silence.

"You sure this is the right place, Percy?" Connor asked, his tone skeptical as he glanced at his future brother-in-law with a raised eyebrow.

"Not entirely," Percy admitted, running a hand through his messy black hair. He turned in a slow circle, his sea-green eyes scanning the dense woods. "This looks like the spot, but—"

"Hey!" A familiar voice called out from somewhere ahead, cutting him off. It was unmistakably Annabeth's.

They all froze, their heads snapping in the direction of the sound. The problem was...there was nothing there.

"Annabeth?" Percy called, his grip tightening on Riptide. He instinctively stepped forward, but Jason raised a hand, signaling caution.

Then, as if materializing out of thin air, Annabeth appeared. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she wore her usual determined expression, though Percy instantly noticed the faint tremor in her hands.

"Where did you come from?" Percy asked, confused but relieved to see her safe.

"Come," Annabeth said simply, giving him a small, almost forced smile. She turned and began walking back into the woods. Percy didn't miss the way her gaze darted nervously over her shoulder, and he quickened his pace to walk beside her.

The others followed closely, and after several minutes, they found themselves standing in a clearing. It looked similar to the one they had just been in, but now there was a small tent pitched in the center.

"Defensive enchantments," Annabeth explained, gesturing at the area around them. "Hermione and I set them up to keep the tent hidden. It's been...chaotic."

She pushed aside the flap of the tent and stepped inside. Percy, Jason, Connor, and Valerie exchanged a quick glance before following her.

The inside of the tent was much larger than it appeared on the outside, with several cots lining the walls and a central table covered in maps and scattered notes. A magical fire crackled in the corner, casting a faint warmth.

The scene that met them, however, was far from comforting. Hermione and Piper were crouched next to one of the cots where Ron lay unconscious. The tension in the room was palpable. At the sound of footsteps, both girls turned and immediately stood up, their expressions shifting from focused to relieved.

But Valerie wasn't looking at Ron or Hermione or even Piper. Her sharp eyes locked onto one detail, and it rooted her to the spot—the blood. It was everywhere. Piper's hands were stained crimson, streaks of dried blood marking her arms. Hermione's sleeves were rolled up, her fingers smeared with the same dark red.

Valerie's heart began to race, her breathing shallow. The sight of blood—so much blood—hit her like a tidal wave, dragging her under. Images flashed in her mind, unbidden and vivid. A battlefield. Shouts. Pain. Blood. So much blood.

She stumbled back, bumping into Connor. "Val?" he asked, concern etching his features as he steadied her. "Hey, you okay?"

But Valerie didn't respond. She was slipping deeper into the flashback, her surroundings dissolving into chaos.

The med bay of the Argo II was a cacophony of shouts and chaos, but Valerie couldn't hear any of it clearly. Her world had narrowed to the single sight in front of her: Piper's shaking hands, slick with blood, pressing desperately against Kit's side.