▃▃▃ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴏꜰ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ ꜰᴏᴏʟ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴇ ɪꜱ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀᴅ-ᴊ ɪʀᴏɴ ᴡᴏʀᴅ
▃▃ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 1 ▃▃ In which the only daughter of Persephone sneaks on a quest to see the world for the first time since she's been at camp. The daughter of wisdom...
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𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑ ‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭
Elara wasn't sure what she expected flying to feel like—but it wasn't this. Even hurt, even exhausted, there was something strangely soothing about the air lifting her. A hush surrounded her, softer than she imagined, though not quite the same peace she felt when hidden beneath a canopy of trees. That was home. This was... borrowed freedom.
Beside her, Adrien cut through the sky with far more confidence—actual wings of pale feathers catching the sun, each beat powerful and annoyingly graceful. He twisted in looping arcs, showing off because of course he was, but he never drifted too far from her. Every trick ended with him snapping back to her side, eyes flicking over her like she might fall apart midair.
"Spread your arms! Keep them extended!" Annabeth's voice echoed from somewhere above.
Elara forced her trembling arms outward. The magic strapped to her back steadied, catching the wind. She dipped lower—controlled, Annabeth would say—but her stomach still lurched.
Experimentally, she gave a small flap. A rush of wind met her, and suddenly she wasn't falling—she was rising. Soaring. Her hair whipped behind her, and for a moment the pain dulled beneath the exhilaration.
"Yeah!" Percy called out, circling her with a grin.
It was surreal. The wings felt like extensions of her own body, responding to thought as much as movement. She banked right. Dove left. The world spiraled beneath her—reds and browns of the rock spires, the distant glint of cars, the wide valley stretching forever.
Then Annabeth yelled, "Land! These wings won't last forever!"
"How long?" Rachel asked.
"I don't want to find out!" Annabeth shot back.
They descended toward the Garden of the Gods. Percy looped a full circle around a spire, startling climbers below, and Adrien rolled his eyes.
"Show-off," he muttered. "And somehow I'm the dramatic one." The place was mostly empty—good. The six of them yanked the wings off quickly. Up close, Elara could see why Annabeth insisted: the seals binding them to their backs were dissolving, glue melting, bronze feathers falling like metallic snow.
They tossed them into nearby trash bins, leaving no trace for mortals.
Percy went straight to the binocular camera, searching the distant hill. "The workshop's gone."
"The workshop moved," Annabeth guessed. "There's no telling where."
"So what do we do now?" Percy asked. "How do we get back in the maze?"
