Where You Go ― Jason Grace

viii. ophelia gets possessed (10/10 would not recommend)

THE WIND RUSTLED noisily through the sunflowers. Tempest and Blackjack paced in agitation. Despite the dry, hot day and the sweat covering her skin, Ophelia shivered.

A cold feeling... Just like Annabeth and Leo had described. Just like Ophelia had felt on the deck.

"Bacchus is right," Piper said, sounding nervous. "We need to leave—"

Too late, came a sleepy voice, humming through the fields all around them and resonating in the ground at their feet.

Percy, Jason, and Ophelia drew their swords. Ophelia dismounted from Tempest, moving to stand near Piper so she wasn't alone on the road. The boys remained on their respective steeds.

Welcome to my party, Gaea murmured. What did Bacchus say? A simple, low-key affair with organic snacks? Yes. For my snacks, I need only two: the blood of a female demigod, and the blood of a male. Piper, my dear, choose which of the boys will die, and then we will see how you fare against Ophelia.

"Gaea!" Jason yelled. "Stop hiding in the wheat. Show yourself!"

Such bravado, Gaea hissed. But the other one, Percy Jackson, also has appeal. Choose, Piper McLean, or I will.

"You're insane!" Piper shouted. "I'm not choosing anything for you!"

Suddenly Jason gasped. He sat straight in his saddle, and Tempest reared back. 

Before Ophelia could ask what was wrong, she felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on her. Her spine straightened, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her blade. 

Without her permission, Ophelia's arm raised, the tip of her blade coming to rest against Piper's back. Ophelia watched helplessly as her best friend stiffened, horrified.

"Choose," Ophelia said, but it wasn't her voice—it was deep and hollow, nothing like her own. It was the same empty tone that Leo had spoken with, as if all signs of personality had been stripped away, leaving just a shell for whatever was possessing her to use as it saw fit.

She tried to bring her sword back down, to let go of the hilt, but her body wasn't hers to control anymore. 

"Percy, help!" Piper yelled, but it was no use.

Percy galloped away from them. He stopped thirty feet down the road and wheeled his pegasus around. He raised his sword and pointed the tip toward Jason.

No! Ophelia tried to scream. She felt as hopeless as she had when Medea had tried to charmspeak Leo and Jason into fighting each other six months ago. Now, it felt like history was repeating itself, and bringing her along with it.

"One will die," Percy said, his voice not his own. It was deep and hollow, just like Ophelia's.

"I will choose," Jason answered, in the same hollow voice.

"No!" Piper yelled.

All around them, the fields crackled and hissed, laughing in Gaea's voice as Percy and Jason charged at each other, their weapons ready.

Get out of me! Ophelia thought, grasping at any shred of control she could find as she tried to break the hold whatever was possessing her had. But despite her efforts, the thing in control of her body grabbed Piper by the shoulder, dragging her backward and placing the edge of her blade against Piper's throat. 

Ophelia could feel the frantic beat of Piper's heart through her back. "Ophelia, please," she whispered, just loud enough for Ophelia to catch.

Jason and Percy charged at each other. They crossed swords, gold against bronze. Sparks flew. Their blades blurred—strike and parry, stab and block—and the pavement trembled. The first exchange took only a second, their sword fighting as fast as light itself. The horses pulled away from each other—Tempest thundering in protest, Blackjack flapping his wings.