half blood hills ▷ teen wolf a.u

Imminent Arrival.

moodboard by @winchester-soldier x

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It'd been a week since the Chariot Race and camp had fallen back into its routine. Pranks were pulled, dagger strikes were parried, bulls-eyes were hit and sleep was compensated for during Ancient Greek language lessons. All in all, normalcy had taken over. At least that's what it seemed to Lydia.

As she thumped a bowl of cereal down onto the picnic-style bench that was occupied by a large group of demigods she was struck by a sudden realisation. That it was a large group. Barely anyone at camp ate breakfast indoors and something this unusual was more than a little unnerving. And to top it all off, no one seemed to be talking save for a few unnatural murmurs.

As her brow clouded- frown lines etching the pallor of her skin- she sat down, staring at the nearly silent table expectantly. "Must've missed the memo. What's wrong with you guys?"

"Lydia, what did you dream about last night?" Malia started in a low, strained voice.

Frowning slightly, the strawberry blonde struggled to dredge up a memory that should've been tucked away in a small alcove of her brain. "I don't...," she began, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to remember. "I can't..," she started again. Gripping the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb she became aware that the more she tried to remember, the louder the rhythmic thumping of drum beats got in her head. Fluttering her eyes open, she tried to steady her breathing and erase the command that was sending her mind into overdrive but nothing could calm her down as the taste of bitter bile nauseated her. Something seemed to be blocking her throat and unable to swallow, her breathing came as ragged gasps from the small gap between her lips.

"Lydia?"

Her eyes were watery now and as she clamped her eyes shut in pain, her eyeballs throbbing as the liquid that leaked from them seemed to sap away her energy, drawing her back into a state of almost primordial helplessness as she felt herself collapse only to be caught by a pair of helpful hands.

She couldn't see but she could feel the concerned faces hovering above her as rasping breaths wracked her body.

And then the screams came and she remembered. The screams were what she dreamed of last night- each haunting wail piercing her mind once more. They seemed to overlap- all in the same pitch; all in the same tone. But what made it brutal was the fact that she couldn't see anything. The darkness seemed to be created by Nyx herself. It was thick, suffocating blackness impenetrable by anything but the screaming. She could feel the all consuming numbness; the toxicity of her thoughts as she was a voodoo doll to the tricks her mind was playing on her.

But it was over in a flash as her eyes shot open- a bullet from the gun that was her mind.

"Lydia?" Malia stood above her- the picture of a stoic warrior- brave and admirable with an undeniable intention for victory. "What did you see?"

"Nothing," she gasped, breath escaping her swollen lungs. "I saw nothing." As an absentminded frown began to work its way onto Malia's face, Lydia paused before continuing. "But I heard screams."

Frowning properly now, Malia stared down at her combat boots, deep in thought. "That...," she started, trailing off as she squinted slightly. "That's...not...". Taking a deep breath to stimulate cohesiveness, she said, "Last night we all dreamt the same thing. But there was no noise. What if..."

"What did you dream about?"

"The hounds," a low voice said from behind the demigods as Derek Hale cantered up the ramp adjacent to the stairs leading to the mess, Deaton the satyr in tow. "Telkhines."

"The craftsmen of the sea," Lydia mumbled under her breath, blinking slightly.

"That's right Lydia," Deaton said, catching her eye. "Powerful magicians of the sea. They have the power to externally control the bodily functions of others. There haven't been any known instances of them controlling dreams though."

"You dreamt about them too?"

"Everyone seems to have. Save for Lydia."

"They were..."

"They were here. At camp. They're coming and we need to be prepared."

"How many?" Lydia asked weakly, eyes blazing with the confidence her body'd been drained of.

"Enough to be considered a threat."

"But why didn't I dream of them?"

"Lydia the screams. What did they sound like?

"Like...," she frowned lost in thought before her brow cleared. "Like dying screams."

Chills frought the thick, humid air as her matter-of-factly macabre statement elicited involuntary shudders.

"Then maybe they were a puzzle piece-"

"-completing the dream."

"Somebody's going to die."

Grimacing- his sharp canines coming together in almost a growl- Derek's eyes shone with an almost primal instinct for protection. "Cabin Counsellors, get your demigods ready. No mercy."

The mess roared in assent, almost as a summoning call to those that roamed the camp fields as they began to gravitate to the central beacon that promised action while the drowned sun ascended it's throne in the sky.

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A/N

short one but what did you guys think?

banshee demigod? or?