half blood hills ▷ teen wolf a.u

Obligatory Battle.

Ducking under the rapid flash of his sword, Lydia grunted as she spun around before parrying Aiden's strike as she advanced, pushing him towards the edge of the arena. Her skill was equally matched by his brute force though, as he resisted and her muscles screamed for mercy. Smirking slightly, he pushed back- before running his blade along the length of hers causing the sound of a piercing metallic wave to wash over her.

She was about to retaliate just as Malcolm, a son of Athena, emerged from the behind treeline- a frenzied mess as his hands seemed to be torn between keeping his glasses in place and pulling apart his already mussed hair. "They're here. The Telkhines," he panted before turning back and racing off, presumably to spread the word.

Dropping her sword as she tightened the shoulder straps of her armour, she began to sprint, attempting to keep up with Aiden's long strides while unsheathing her dagger.

As they got closer to the camp boundary the skies seemed to get darker, culminating in a perfect storm above the pine tree that stood protecter to camp as wreaths of wind wrapped around each branch.

Isaac stood an inch away from the protection line, flanked by Allison and Brett on either side who led the Hunters and the Apollo cabin respectively. The two groups were exactly in sync, not missing a beat as they seemed to produce arrows from thin air, nocking them and letting them fly with such swiftness that Lydia wasn't even sure when they had time to aim. Nevertheless each arrow met its mark as the combination of the Apollo's sonic arrows and the Hunters' silver and Celestial Bronze ones drove the hounds to retreat. Isaac seemed to glow with a power that juxtaposed his general air of shadowy passiveness as jagged cracks snaked forward from where his feet met the earth, growing wider until they reached the hounds, at which point, bony hands followed by skeletal warriors emerged, grasping at the enemy.

Scott stood, a lone figure radiating power as circlets of lightning swathed him, bathing his olive skin in a light so harsh it was almost beautiful as he blasted bolts of glass-like lightning at the enemy.

The Athena and Ares cabins had merged to form an unstoppable wave of brute force that swept beyond the camp boundary- daring to engage in hand to hand combat, although, while the Ares demigods did most of the fighting, the Athenians screamed ready formations at them- strategically plotting out the entire thing in their heads. As Lydia joined her siblings, her eyes washed over the scenario, realising that it wasn't just the two cabins- the braver lot from Hephasteus and most of the Nike cabin along with a smattering of other demigods had chosen to take on the Telkhines in a battle that was reaching its apotheosis.

The Hermes and Hecate cabins worked together, their general flair for trickery helping them as well-aimed jars of Greek fire reached the enemy, vaporising each Telkhine that was being replaced by another one so quickly one barely had time to rejoice the death of the first. Lydia glimpsed Stiles, hurling jars far beyond his siblings, the wind seeming to embrace him as it propelled whatever flew out of his nimble hands as its power sunk in through every pore in his skin. But the frown that rested on her face was only momentary as the questions that raced through her mind regarding his scenario were replaced by the sensate urgency of the situation.

Rotating her already strained wrist slightly, her jaw tightened infinitesimally- a movement Malcolm luckily caught as he nodded back in agreement to her unsaid statement. "FIGHT," Lydia glared at the rest of her siblings before submerging herself in the crowd, not bothering to look behind, knowing that they would follow their Head Counsellor.

She was a hurricane. The same whirlwind of energy that blew through the strawberry fields now whipped through the enemy- a force of something vaguely beautiful in the haughtiness it held. And with the wave of incoming demigods that Lydia had heralded, no one realised how far behind they'd pushed the enemy until there were just two of the original Telkhines left. Lydia turned to see one go down as she made eye contact with the second.

It's jowls seemed to curl back in mockery, obsidian black eyes meeting her own royal green ones, as she involuntarily went still- paralysis a dreaded foe. And then she heard it speak. Though she knew the voice was only in her head, it echoed and resounded through every crevice; through every small trail that led into the woods. "I Thálassa. The Sea. I Thálassa."

And then, as the silver arrow flew from Allison's bow and Lydia opened her mouth to scream for her to stop, the hound whispered one more thing. "O Ploíarchos tis Thálassas. The Master of the Sea."

And then, the flash of silver took its arc across the plain, hitting the beast between its eyes as it crumpled, only to dissipate before it reached the ground.

And yet all Lydia could think about was that this was somehow connected to Stiles.

The Master of the Sea.

Who was Stiles really? 

The son of Poseidon? 

Or someone that was caught up in a mess that wasn't theirs?