Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I remember my childhood. Vividly, for how short it was.

I was born on a harsh planet, especially for my universe. Cadia, it was called. It was a planet similar to Terra, originally classified as the Imperrium's most important Fortress World.

It was the fourth world of the Cadian System, and its surface contained a wide variety of terrain types and ecosystems, including frozen tundras, temperate plains, wind-swept moors and the great native axel-tree forests

At least that's what my mom told me. I was born years after it looked like that.

You see, Cadia guarded the only known navigable route to and from this thing called the Eye of Terror. Making Cadia the first target of the Black Crusade's. 

Luckily, or unluckily, I wasn't alive for most of that. I was born a few years into the 13th Black Crusade, meaning that at 3 years old I was witness to the "Will of Eternity", crashing into the surface of Cadia like an artificial meteor. This monstrous kinetic strike wiped out most of Cadia's defenders, destroyed the network of Cadian Pylons and tectonically destabilised the world.

Of those defenders, was my dad. An imperial guardsman. He was okay from what I remember, kinda insane, had a weird obsession with a shovel.

I never really got to know him, since after the kinetic strike wiped out most of Cadia; the Warp and its denizens claimed the remains of the Fortress World.

Lord Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed helped somewhat, arranging an evacuation of the planet that saved 3 million of its citizens —though not before Creed himself mysteriously disappeared.

Most of my family members got away. My step-grandparents, my step-brother, and my step-sisters. The only ones who didn't make it, were my mother and I.

Mother, chose to stay behind with me. Perhaps it was a sense of duty to the broken remains of Cadia or perhaps she simply didn't want to leave my father's memory behind. Either way, it was a decision that would lead us into the depths of madness.

My earliest memories are filled with fire and whispers. The sky above Cadia was a roiling storm of Warp energy, unnatural hues shifting and twisting like a malevolent living thing. The once-proud axel-trees had been reduced to skeletal remnants, their barkless limbs clawing at the heavens. Chaos reigned everywhere.

I remember my mother clutching me tightly to her chest as we ran through the ruins of our home. The world was collapsing around us—both in the physical sense and in the metaphysical. The Warp was seeping through the cracks in reality, and with it came its horrors: daemons, madness, and whispers that gnawed at the edges of sanity.

I didn't understand any of it at the time. To me, it was just... home. A broken, blood-soaked home filled with shadows that moved on their own and voices that spoke my name in languages I couldn't understand.

We survived by sheer luck, or perhaps by the twisted design of the Warp itself. My mother was resourceful and fierce, a survivor who refused to let go of me no matter the cost. She scavenged supplies from the ruins, fought off raiders and daemons with a laspistol she'd taken from a fallen soldier, and whispered prayers to the Emperor every night. I don't know if he heard her, but she kept praying regardless.

Eventually, staying on Cadia became impossible. The Warp storms intensified, and the whispers grew louder. My mother made the desperate decision to try to escape, even though it meant entering the Immaterium itself.

We found an abandoned cargo freighter, rusted and barely operational. The ship's Warp-Drive still hummed with life, though it was temperamental and damaged. It wasn't ideal, but it was our only chance. My mother sealed us inside the vessel, whispering reassurances to me as the ancient engines roared to life.

The jump into the Warp was horrifying. The transition from realspace to the Immaterium was like falling through an endless abyss, and even as a child, I could feel the sheer wrongness of it. The walls of the freighter seemed to ripple and pulse, and the whispers that had plagued us on Cadia became screams.

For a year, we drifted. A year.

The Warp is not kind to travelers, especially not those without a Navigator or a beacon like the Astronomican to guide them. The ship's systems were erratic at best, and the Warp storms constantly buffeted us, threatening to tear the freighter apart.

I don't know how we survived. My mother's determination was the only constant in that year of chaos. She scavenged food and water from the freighter's dwindling supplies, and when they ran out, she turned to desperate measures—rationing what little we had and forcing herself to go without so I could eat.

The Warp didn't leave us unscathed. It seeped into the ship, into our minds. I saw things no child should ever see—things no one should see. Shadows that moved and whispered, shapes that weren't there when you looked directly at them. My mother's prayers became frantic, her voice hoarse from pleading with the Emperor to protect us.

I should have died. A child has no place in the Immaterium, where even the strongest of warriors can lose their minds. But somehow, I endured. My body grew weaker with each passing day, but my will—or perhaps the Warp's twisted sense of humor—kept me alive.

I turned four years old in that hellscape. My mother marked the occasion by scratching a small tally into the wall of our cabin, her hands trembling.

It was then, on the verge of despair, that we found him.

The ship had been adrift for what felt like an eternity when the freighter's sensors picked up a massive vessel approaching. The Nicor.

At first, my mother thought it was another illusion—a cruel trick of the Warp. But the Nicor was real, its colossal silhouette looming in the void like a predator stalking its prey.

The Carcharodons boarded us with ruthless efficiency, their grey-and-black armor gleaming in the flickering lights of our failing ship. My mother tried to shield me as they stormed aboard, her laspistol shaking in her hands. She must have looked pathetic to them— malnourished and half dead holding a near child.

And then he arrived.

Tyberos.

He was a giant, even among the Space Marines. His modified Terminator armor made him an even more imposing figure, the brass studs and ancient ceramite of his battleplate etched with sigils I didn't recognize. Hunger and Slake, his infamous Lightning Claws, hung at his sides, their adamantium teeth stained with the blood of countless enemies.

He stepped forward, his presence overwhelming. My mother froze, her breath hitching as his soulless black lenses locked onto us.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Tyberos spoke.

"What manner of madness is this?"

His voice was a soft, menacing growl, carrying the weight of countless battles. He crouched down, his massive frame dwarfing us both. I remember his head tilting slightly as he studied me, his black eyes seeming to peer into my very soul.

"This... child survived the Warp?"

He sounded almost incredulous, his tone laced with something I couldn't quite identify. Pity? Horror? Curiosity?

Tyberos reached out with one massive gauntlet, the servos of his armor whining as he gently touched my shoulder. I flinched, expecting pain, but his touch was surprisingly gentle for one so monstrous.

"You are either blessed by the Emperor or cursed by the Warp," he murmured. "Perhaps both."

My mother fell to her knees, sobbing. "Please," she begged. "Save him. Take him away from this place. He doesn't deserve this."

Tyberos straightened, his gaze shifting to the other Carcharodons. "Prepare them for transport," he ordered.

That moment marked the end of my life as I knew it. Tyberos and his warriors took us aboard the Nicor, away from the hellish freighter that had been our prison.

But the Warp leaves its mark. I wasn't the same after that year adrift. Neither was my mother.

Tyberos kept a close eye on me, though he never explained why. Perhaps he saw something in me that reminded him of himself, or perhaps he simply couldn't fathom how a child had survived such horrors.

The Nicor became my new home, and Tyberos... Tyberos became something akin to a father figure. A monstrous, blood-soaked father figure, but a father figure nonetheless

He was a good man... I think. Taught me to read, educated me in ways I'd never understood —like math, or how to kill a Tyranid.

I almost became complacent ... till I died.

I'm not sure how, I died. My memories get all fuzzy when I try to remember.

All I know is that there was screaming, a lot of red, and the head of a Primarch laid in my six year hands.

Honestly, I thought that was the end for me. 

Dying young, left to forever float in a void of darkness.

Then I heard a voice.

"Thalia, look, I found a kid."

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DGW: Hello everyone, I'm sorry for the rewrite but I believed that the old story wasn't going that well and wanted to give it another go. If you have any complaints or suggestions, feel free to tell me. With that said, I'm signing off.

Tools used: FANDOMS app, Google Docs, Spotify 

Suggest Love Interest Here: anyone is allowed, except those younger two or more years younger than the MC

Word Count: 1597

Chapter Text

DGW: so turns out that I have to clarify that this isn't an isekai— I got the idea for this story from the fact that the Emperor of Mankind is Alexander the Great... a guy thought to be the son of Zeus... carry on

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I woke up to a cold breeze brushing against my face. My body ached—not the sharp pain of fresh wounds, but the deep, lingering exhaustion that came from something else. Something worse. The kind of pain that settled in the bones, in the soul. My breath misted in the cool air as I pushed myself up, blinking against the brightness of the sun filtering through the canopy above. The ground was soft beneath my hands. Too soft. Too alive.

This wasn't Cadia. This wasn't the warp.

Where was I?

The sound of running water reached my ears. Birds chirped, leaves rustled, the air smelled of damp soil and greenery. Life. A stark contrast to the shattered rock and smoke-choked skies I knew. It was... wrong. Not in the way of the Warp, not twisted or maddening. Just unfamiliar. Too quiet. Too peaceful.

The last thing I remembered was—

I stopped.

Dying.

I was certain of it. The details were hazy, like trying to grasp mist, but the sensation was unmistakable. Pain, then darkness, then... nothing. An absence of everything. No sensation of time, no memory of how I got here. Just an empty space where something should have been.

Then came the voices.

Three of them. Two female, one male. Young, but with an edge of authority—like warriors who had seen too much too soon. Close, but still hidden beyond the thick underbrush.

"Thalia, look, I found a kid," the boy said. His tone held curiosity, maybe concern.

A cold knot formed in my stomach. My instincts screamed at me to move, to disappear into the trees. But my body was sluggish, my thoughts disoriented. The dissonance between what I remembered and where I was sent a sharp pulse of pain through my skull.

Footsteps approached. I forced myself to stay still, my heartbeat loud in my ears. Running was pointless. If they had already seen me, fleeing would only make things worse.

The brush parted, and I felt their eyes on me before I even turned my head.

"Who—who are you?" a girl demanded. Her voice was sharp, commanding. A leader.

I turned my head slowly and met her gaze. She was tall, with piercing blue eyes and a stance that spoke of confidence earned through experience. She wasn't unkind, but she was assessing me, like a soldier sizing up an unknown factor.

"I..." My voice cracked, hoarse from disuse. I swallowed, trying again. "I don't know."

Two more figures stepped into view behind her. One was a younger girl, maybe seven, with dark skin and intelligent brown eyes that held far more weight than they should have. The last was a boy, older than her but softer than the blue-eyed girl—thoughtful, but wary.

The leader's frown deepened. "You don't know?"

I shook my head. I looked down at my hands. Scarred, calloused, a testament to a life spent surviving. A life I couldn't remember in detail, but one I felt in my bones. "I don't remember anything," I admitted. "I woke up here. I don't know where. I don't know how. And... I don't know why."

Silence. The three exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Do you remember anything before waking up?" the younger girl asked, her voice unnervingly steady.

I hesitated. The words stuck in my throat. I didn't want to say it. But I couldn't lie either.

"I think I died."

Their reactions were immediate. The leader—Thalia, if I'd heard right—stiffened, her authoritative air faltering for a fraction of a second. The younger girl tilted her head, watching me with an unsettling level of scrutiny. The boy's expression flickered between startled and calculating, like he was deciding whether to believe me.

"Died?" Thalia echoed, cautious.

I nodded. "I don't remember how. Just... everything went dark. And then I woke up here."

Another pause. Another silent exchange. Then the boy muttered, "We already took in one. An undead one might be less trouble."

Thalia exhaled through her nose before turning back to me. "We don't know who you are either," she said, her voice steady but softer now. "But you're here. And we'll help you figure this out."

Help?

The word caught me off guard.

I had been raised by my mother, yes, and Tyberos had taught me many things. But help? Help was given with purpose, with expectation. My mother had helped me because it kept her sane. Tyberos had helped me because he saw potential—a tool to sharpen for the Imperium. But these strangers?

And yet... there was something in her tone. Something firm, unyielding.

I had no idea where I was. And if the Warp had taught me anything, it was this—you don't stay in one place if you want to live.

"You're not alone anymore," Thalia said.

I nodded, though the weight in my chest didn't ease. I didn't know who I was, where I was, or how I had gotten here. But for now, I wasn't entirely on my own. And that would have to be enough.

Two of them helped me up. My limbs ached, like I hadn't moved in days. Maybe longer. My balance wavered for a second before I steadied myself. The boy studied me carefully, eyes sharp with scrutiny.

Then I noticed how they were looking at me. Not just wary. Not just curious.

Something else.

Thalia was the first to speak.

"...What's up with your ears?"

I blinked. My ears?

Right.

Reaching up, I brushed my fingers against them. The familiar sensation of fur, the slight twitch at my own touch—it was normal to me. But to them?

The youngest girl was staring, gaze locked onto them like she was solving a puzzle. The boy, though calmer, was definitely paying attention now. And Thalia? She was the least subtle, her confusion evident.

"...What?" I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

The boy was the first to recover. "You're not, uh, human, are you?"

Human.

The word settled heavy in my chest.

"I am," I said automatically. It wasn't entirely a lie.

Thalia narrowed her eyes. "You sure about that?"

I exhaled, ears flicking. Their reactions weren't surprising. I'd been through this before—humans who weren't used to seeing someone like me. But these three weren't just surprised. They were analyzing me.

The younger girl tilted her head. "They move," she said simply.

I frowned. "Yeah. They do that."

"...Huh."

The boy ran a hand through his hair, muttering, "Okay. Okay. We've seen a lot of weird things, but this is new."

I crossed my arms. "You've seen a lot of weird things?"

Thalia scoffed. "You have no idea."

For some reason, the younger one smiled. Just a little.

The boy let out a breath. "Alright. None of us know what's going on with you, and you don't either. But we don't leave kids behind." His gaze was steady. "If you don't have anywhere to go, you can come with us."

Thalia gave him a sharp look but didn't argue. She just crossed her arms, watching me closely.

I hesitated.

Strangers. Three of them. I didn't know their names, didn't know where they were going. I didn't even know what world I was on.

But I knew one thing.

I was alone. And I didn't want to be.

"...Okay," I said finally. "But I wanna know your names first."

Thalia regarded me, then nodded. "Fair. I'm Thalia."

The boy hesitated before offering a lopsided smile. "Luke."

The youngest girl, still studying me with quiet intensity, finally spoke. "Annabeth."

I nodded, repeating their names in my head. They were wary, but not cruel.

"Your turn," Thalia said.

I hesitated. My name felt foreign. But it was all I had.

"...Khaine," I said.

Luke nodded, seeming satisfied. Annabeth tilted her head slightly, like she was tucking the name away for later. Thalia just studied me, her electric blue eyes unreadable.

"Alright, Khaine," she said finally. "We're heading out soon. You good to walk?"

I rolled my shoulders, testing the stiffness in my limbs. "I'll manage."

"Good." She glanced at Luke. "We should keep moving."

Luke nodded in agreement, shifting his backpack. "Yeah. We don't want to be out here when it gets dark."

Annabeth didn't say anything, but she kept staring at me with those sharp, intelligent eyes. I met her gaze, my ears twitching slightly in response.

"They really move," she murmured.

I sighed. "Yeah. They do."

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "C'mon. Let's go."

Thalia took the lead, moving through the trees with practiced ease. Luke walked beside her, occasionally glancing back to check on me. Annabeth, surprisingly, stayed close to my side, still watching me with a calculating expression.

I followed, my steps light, my ears flicking as I took in the sounds around me. The forest was alive in a way I wasn't used to—so much life, so little death. It felt unnatural.

But for the first time in a long time, I wasn't walking alone.

We moved through the woods in relative silence, the only sounds being the crunch of leaves beneath our feet and the distant calls of birds in the canopy above. I kept my senses open, listening for anything unusual, but all I heard was nature—pure, untouched, unlike the battlefields and war zones I had once known.

Luke and Thalia led the way, their movements quick but controlled, like they were used to navigating terrain like this. Annabeth stayed close to my side, her sharp eyes constantly flicking to me as if she was still trying to figure something out.

I didn't blame her. I was trying to figure myself out, too.

"So," Luke said after a while, glancing over his shoulder. "You got any idea where you're from? Any landmarks or places that sound familiar?"

I hesitated, my mind reaching for something—anything—that might help. But the memories were a haze, distant and out of reach, like trying to grasp water in my hands.

"...Cadia," I said finally. The word left my mouth before I even thought about it.

Thalia and Luke slowed slightly, exchanging glances. Annabeth frowned.

"Never heard of it," she said.

"Yeah, same," Luke added. "What's it near?"

I frowned, my tail twitching. "It... was a fortress world. The last line of defense against the Eye of Terror."

That made them all stop.

"Fortress world?" Thalia repeated, turning fully to face me. "Like... a military base?"

I nodded. "More than that. It was a planet built for war." I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, but they didn't feel real, like I was reciting someone else's story. "Everyone fought. Every man, woman, and child trained to defend it. Because if we fell... everything else would, too."

Thalia's expression turned serious, her brows furrowing. "You're telling me you grew up on a literal battlefield?"

"...Yeah."

Luke let out a slow breath. "That's... intense."

I just shrugged. "It was all I knew."

Annabeth was still staring at me. "And you said you died."

"...Yeah."

She tilted her head. "How?"

That... was harder to answer. I could still feel it, the phantom pain of something ripping through me, the blinding light, the overwhelming sense of failure. But the details were scattered, broken pieces of a puzzle I couldn't put together.

"I don't remember," I admitted. "Just... there was fire. Screaming. I was holding something—someone—and then... nothing."

Silence fell over the group. Luke ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. Thalia crossed her arms, studying me. Annabeth, as usual, was unreadable.

"Well," Thalia said eventually. "You're here now. And we've got bigger things to worry about."

Luke nodded in agreement. "Yeah. First priority is finding food, then a place to crash for the night. Khaine, you up for that?"

I rolled my shoulders, stretching out the stiffness in my limbs. "I'll be fine."

"Good." Thalia turned, picking up the pace again. "Let's move."

As we walked, I couldn't help but watch them, studying the way they moved and interacted. They were a unit, a well-oiled machine despite their differences. Thalia was the leader, decisive and commanding, with an edge of protectiveness she didn't try to hide. Luke was the strategist, the one who kept morale up, always thinking a few steps ahead. And Annabeth... she was the observer, the one who saw things others didn't.

I had a feeling she was still trying to figure out whether I was a threat or not.

Eventually, we came across an old gas station, long abandoned, with vines creeping up the cracked walls. The sign was barely legible, the windows shattered, but the structure itself still stood.

Thalia nodded toward it. "We check inside, grab what we can, then move."

Luke tested the door. It was locked, but that didn't stop him—he pulled a pin from his pocket and worked the lock with practiced ease. Within seconds, it clicked open.

I raised a brow. "You do that a lot?"

Luke grinned. "Let's just say it's a useful skill."

We slipped inside, moving cautiously. The air was stale, filled with dust and the faint scent of rust. The shelves were mostly empty, looted long ago, but there were a few forgotten items—cans of food, old energy bars, a couple of water bottles.

Annabeth went straight for the shelves, scanning labels with sharp efficiency. "Some of this is still good."

Thalia tested a flashlight, frowning when it flickered weakly. "Better than nothing."

Luke rifled through a drawer, pulling out a half-empty first aid kit. "Jackpot."

I lingered near the entrance, keeping watch. My ears twitched at every creak of the building, every shift of the wind outside. This was too easy. No one left supplies untouched unless something had scared them away.

Something was wrong.

"Hey," I said, my voice low. "We should hurry."

Thalia glanced at me. "Why?"

"Because," I muttered, ears flicking toward the darkened back of the store. "We're not alone."

Annabeth, crouched by a bottom shelf, glanced up at me. "What do you hear?"

I hesitated, sorting through the layers of sound around us. The faint hum of wind seeping through cracks in the building, the distant chirp of insects outside, the slow, rhythmic drip... drip... drip of water somewhere deeper in the store. But beneath it all, something else—something breathing. Low, steady, just barely audible.

"Breathing," I murmured. "Something strange."

Annabeth's fingers tightened around the can she was holding. "Where?"

I turned my head slightly, my ears swiveling toward the sound. It was coming from the back of the store, where the shadows were thickest.

"There," I whispered, pointing toward the storage room door that hung slightly ajar. The air around it felt wrong—not quite like the Warp, but there was an unnatural weight to it. Something was watching us.

Thalia immediately reached for her spear, her grip tightening. Luke exchanged a glance with her before inching toward the storage room, grabbing a pipe from the floor and held it at the ready. Annabeth stayed close to me, her eyes darting between the others as she slowly pulled a dagger from her pocket.

Then, before any of us could make a move, the door creaked open further.

And a woman stepped out.

She was tall and elegant, with sharp features and dark hair pulled into a neat bun. Her clothes were simple—too simple, considering the state of the world around us. A long, gray coat draped over her shoulders, and her piercing black eyes swept over us with an unsettling familiarity.

Thalia stiffened. Luke took half a step back.

I didn't move.

The woman smiled. It was a little too wide, a little too forced.

"Oh, dear," she said smoothly. "You children look exhausted. Are you lost?"

Her voice dripped with false concern, and I felt my stomach twist. There was something about her—something that set my nerves on edge. She felt wrong. Not quite like a daemon, but close.

Thalia didn't lower her spear. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The woman blinked, feigning innocence. "Oh, my apologies. My name is Mrs. August. I was just passing through when I saw this old store and thought I might find something useful. I never expected to run into anyone else out here."

She clasped her hands together, tilting her head slightly as her gaze settled on Thalia.

Too focused on her, I thought.

She hadn't given me more than a passing glance, nor had she really acknowledged Luke or Annabeth. But Thalia? Her attention lingered, like a predator sizing up prey.

I inhaled deeply, trying to catch something—anything—off about her scent. It was subtle, but there was a faint trace of sulfur beneath the more mundane smells of dust and decay.

Warp-tainted, my mind supplied. No—not the Warp. Something else, something older, but just as unnatural.

Thalia didn't budge. "You're alone?"

Mrs. August smiled again. "Yes, dear. All alone. The world isn't safe for a woman by herself, but I manage."

Lie.

I didn't know how I knew, but I did. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was something left over from my time surviving with the Carcharodons, but I could feel the deception woven into her words.

Thalia must have felt it too, because she didn't lower her weapon. Luke, however, shifted uncomfortably. "If you're alone," he said cautiously, "you shouldn't stay here. It's not safe."

Mrs. August's eyes flicked to him for a moment before returning to Thalia. "Oh, I appreciate your concern, young man, but I know how to take care of myself."

Thalia's grip on her spear tightened.

Annabeth nudged me slightly. "You're tense," she whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

I didn't look at her. "Something's wrong with her."

Annabeth frowned. "You sure?"

"Yes."

Mrs. August took a step closer.

Thalia didn't back down.

Luke cleared his throat. "Uh, we were just about to leave, actually. We won't bother you if—"

"Oh, but you must be starving," Mrs. August interrupted. "Children like you, all alone out here? It's dangerous. I have food. Water. Perhaps you should rest, just for a little while?"

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

I took a half-step forward, my instincts screaming. As I stepped back, I accidentally knocked something off a shelf.

Mrs. August's gaze snapped to me for the first time, truly looking at me now. She blinked, as if just realizing I was there.

And for the first time, something flickered in her expression.

Confusion.

She didn't recognize me.

Good.

I met her eyes, my stance shifting. 

Luke stepped forward, "I'm sorry but; we should be leaving."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Her smile faltered. Just for a second.

"You're a strange one," she murmured, her voice lower now as she stared at me. "Not like the others."

Luke tensed. Annabeth's grip on her dagger tightened.

Thalia didn't move her spear, but I could see the tension in her stance. She was ready for a fight. Luke was on edge too, shifting slightly in a way that told me he was calculating distances, escape routes. Annabeth pressed a little closer to me, though whether it was for her protection or mine, I couldn't tell.

Mrs. August studied me with a curiosity that made my skin crawl. That wrongness I felt from her, the scent of sulfur just beneath the surface, it wasn't going away.

And I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You don't belong here," she said, her voice soft but weighted. Her gaze flickered—just for an instant—to my ears, then back to my eyes.

I bared my teeth slightly, a half-growl in the back of my throat. "Neither do you."

Luke let out a slow breath. "Okay," he said carefully, stepping between us. "I think this conversation is over. Thanks for the offer, Mrs. August, but we're leaving."

Alecto's expression barely shifted, but something about her presence changed. There was a weight to the air, a pressure that I didn't like.

"Leaving?" she repeated, as if tasting the word. Then she smiled—too wide, too smooth. "Oh, but where will you go? The world isn't kind to lost little children."

Thalia's knuckles whitened around her spear. "We're not lost."

Mrs. August tsked softly. "Aren't you?" Her gaze returned to Thalia, something almost... hungry in her eyes. "You've been running for so long, haven't you? Always looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next betrayal, the next failure. It's exhausting, isn't it?"

Thalia went rigid.

Annabeth let out a sharp breath. "We should go. Now."

I didn't wait. My instincts screamed at me, every hair on my body standing on end. I grabbed Thalia's arm and pulled. Move, my mind urged. Now.

Thalia snapped out of whatever had frozen her and yanked her arm back, but she didn't fight me. She moved.

Luke was already backing toward the door, Annabeth right behind him. I kept myself between them and Mrs. August, who watched us with amusement, her dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"You won't get far," she called after us, her voice still honey-sweet. "Not from me."

I didn't answer.

We were out the door in seconds, moving fast. Luke was breathing hard, his grip on the bat tight. Annabeth kept glancing back, her jaw clenched.

Thalia was the first to speak. "She's a Fury."

I blinked. "A what?"

"Alecto, Megara, Tisiphone," she spat, looking back over her shoulder. "All of them are Hades' hound dogs. She's one of them and she's after me."

I turned the name over in my head. It meant nothing to me. But Fury—that was something I recognized. A term from my time in the Carcharodons, from whispered stories of the Imperium's darkest monsters. And yet, I had the sense this was something different.

"She wanted you," I said. It wasn't a question.

Thalia nodded. "Yeah."

Annabeth shot me a look. "How did you know something was off? Before we did?"

I exhaled sharply, ears flicking. "She smelled wrong."

Luke stared. "She what?"

I didn't bother explaining. "Where are we going?"

Thalia set her jaw. "Anywhere but here."

We ran.

And behind us, from the direction of the gas station, I could've sworn I heard laughter.

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DGW: Hello everyone, I'm sorry for the delay, I was trying to figure out how the story should go since I haven't played 40k and only read three of the books. If you have any complaints or suggestions, feel free to tell me. With that said, I'm signing off.

Tools used: FANDOMS app, Google Docs, Spotify, 

Suggest Love Interest Here: anyone is allowed, except those two or more years younger than the MC

Word Count: 3843

Chapter Text

It's been about two weeks since I met up with Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth. I'm not really sure what to say other than that this place is awesome.

I mean— yeah we're constantly running from place to place, hiding from monsters, police, and a very small dog.

But other than that; this place is a paradise. There's no constantly screaming death portals, twenty foot tall daemons that screech otherworldly curses, I haven't even seen a necron!

The only actual downside is... I am the main cook.

You see, even though Luke and Thalia are the oldest, they can't cook actual food. Luke was surviving off of this stuff called peanut butter and jelly sandwiches till he left his original housing; and Thalia had been living off ramen, stolen food, snacks for way too long to know how to actually "cook".

Annabeth is banned.

The reason I'm the cook —even though I'm the youngest— is because I have made food that tastes good from things that shouldn't be edible. Growing up in the warp the only things there to eat are corpse starch, dead Daemons, your comrades, and sometimes survivors who get too snappy.

That being said, I would absolutely rather cook for these guys instead of fist fighting giants and hiding from those weird grey guys like that one time —I think they were knights?

The monsters are slightly annoying though.

It isn't that they are terrifying — not after everything I'd seen in the Warp — but they are persistent. Like fleas you couldn't shake off, no matter how many times you crushed them.

We'd barely gone a day without some creature crawling out of the shadows to take a shot at us. Some were mindless beasts, all claws and fangs; others seemed smarter, like they were hunting. And after two weeks, I couldn't shake the feeling that Alecto was still out there, watching, waiting.

Right now, though, my biggest problem wasn't a Fury or a monster — it was dinner.

I sat cross-legged by the fire, stirring a dented pot  that used to the helmet of a thing Luke called a Laestrygonian giant, Thalia called it a Canadian.  Whatever it was, its helmet was being filled with something that vaguely resembled stew. Luke leaned over my shoulder, eyeing the bubbling mess.

"...Is that edible?" he asked.

"Do you want to eat?" I shot back.

Luke backed off, raising his hands. "Just asking."

"Yeah, well," I muttered, giving the stew one last stir, "it's better than whatever you've been trying to call 'dinner.'"

"Hey!" Luke protested. "PB&J is a classic."

"It's barely food," I shot back.

Luke scoffed, but there was no heat to it. Thalia, sitting a little ways off with her boots propped on a log, smirked. "For once, I'm with Khaine. Your sandwiches taste like cardboard."

Luke gave an exaggerated gasp of betrayal. "Et tu, Thalia?"

"Please," she shot back. "If Khaine can make that weird sludge taste halfway decent, I'm not complaining."

"Sludge?" I flicked a bit of stew in her direction. She ducked, laughing.

Annabeth returned from her self-imposed banishment a few feet away, dragging her sleeping bag back toward the fire. She'd been sulking since I banned her from the cooking area after her disastrous attempt to "improve" breakfast with what she called strategic spice ratios. Somehow, she'd turned oatmeal into something that tasted like hot gravel.

"I still say I could've helped," she grumbled, plopping down beside Thalia.

"No," Luke, Thalia, and I said in unison.

Annabeth huffed and crossed her arms.

Satisfied the stew wouldn't kill anyone — or at least that it wouldn't kill us — I ladled out portions. The group dug in with surprising enthusiasm, and I felt an odd warmth in my chest. Back in the Warp, a meal you didn't have to fight for — or fear eating — was rare. Sharing food now felt... good. Like I was doing something useful.

Luke, mid-bite, jabbed his spoon at me. "So, cat-boy, when are you gonna tell us what's up with that?"

I froze. "With what?"

Luke grinned. "The whole... feline thing." He wiggled his fingers. "You always know when someone's sneaking up on us, you land on your feet every time, and I'm pretty sure you purred in your sleep last night."

"I do not purr," I snapped.

"You totally do," Thalia chimed in, a wicked smile curling on her face.

Annabeth, who'd been quietly eating, nodded. "I distracted you with a light made from a mirror when that Lycanthrope attacked us two days ago."

I felt my ears flatten — which, of course, only made them laugh harder.

"It's not funny," I muttered, stabbing at my stew.

"Actually," Luke smirked, "it's hilarious."

I shot him a look that promised violence. He grinned wider, clearly unfazed.

"Hey, if it helps," Thalia added between bites, "it's probably the reason you keep hearing things before the rest of us. You've got some kind of sixth sense or something. It's... freaky. But useful."

I wasn't sure how to take that. Compliment? Insult? Both?

"Well... whatever," I muttered, deciding my stew deserved more attention than the conversation. At least stew didn't make fun of me.

For a few minutes, we ate in peace — or as peaceful as things got when Luke and Thalia were around. Luke kept trying to sneak an extra portion when he thought I wasn't looking, and Thalia "accidentally" knocked over a bottle of water every time he got close.

"Seriously?" Luke muttered as Thalia gave her most innocent smile, nudging his elbow just enough to spill another splash of water across his sleeve.

"Must be the wind," Thalia said, not bothering to hide her grin.

Luke scowled, muttering something about "chaotic little goblins" under his breath, before leaning back against the wall of the abandoned building we'd hunkered down in. It wasn't much — cracked windows, vines creeping through the gaps in the stone, and half a roof — but it was dry, and that was good enough.

"Don't even think about it," I warned as I caught Luke's hand creeping toward the pot again. He froze, like a kid caught sneaking cookies. His guilty grin didn't fool me.

"Fine," he huffed, flopping back down.

The fire crackled, filling the silence. For once, things felt... calm. No monsters, no frantic running, no panicked whispers about where we'd sleep or if we'd have to fight something off tonight. Just warmth, food, and quiet.

"You really don't talk much about where you're from," Thalia said suddenly. Her voice was casual, but I could tell she'd been waiting to ask.

I kept my eyes on my stew. "Not much to talk about."

"C'mon," Luke chimed in, his voice lighter. "You've gotta have some stories. Even Annabeth tells us about her weird architecture obsession."

"It's not an obsession," Annabeth muttered around a mouthful of food.

Thalia ignored her. "Yeah, but seriously, Khaine — Cadia, right? What was it like?"

I shifted uncomfortably. Memories tried to bubble up — the cold gray walls, the endless drills, the constant roar of artillery. The faces — grim, hollow-eyed soldiers who barely looked human anymore. And then... the fire. The screams. The Warp.

"It's... not like this," I said carefully. "Cadia was... harsh. You either learned to fight or you died."

I could feel their eyes on me, but I kept my gaze locked on the fire.

"Well, you're good at fighting," Luke said. "So... I guess you learned."

I snorted. "Yeah. Something like that."

Another pause. Luke glanced at Thalia, then back at me. "So... what's with all the cat stuff?"

I groaned. "Not this again."

"Hey, I'm serious!" Luke laughed, grabbing his golf club from where it rested against the wall. "I've seen you do things that shouldn't be possible. That jump you pulled when that empousa jumped us last week? No way a normal person pulls that off."

"It's... instinct," I muttered. "I don't know. It's just normal for me."

"It's still weird," Thalia said, but she didn't sound unkind.

"It's probably like those weird blessings the gods give sometimes," Luke said, resting his golf club across his knees. "Could be you're touched by one of them."

"Blessing?" I repeated. "I'm pretty sure growing up in the Warp doesn't count as being blessed."

Luke's face scrunched up. "Yeah... you keep mentioning that. The Warp. What is that?"

I hesitated, feeling my chest tighten. How was I supposed to explain something like that?

"It's... complicated," I said, my voice quieter. "It's not like your monsters or your gods. It's... bigger. Worse."

That earned me a frown from Thalia. "Worse than a Hydra trying to eat you?"

I gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah. Worse."

Luke seemed to sense I didn't want to talk about it, so he shifted the conversation. "Well, since you don't know much about our weird stuff, maybe it's time you learned."

I blinked. "Learned what?"

"The Greek stuff," Thalia said. "You know — Zeus, Hera, Hades, the Gods."

"Zeus?" I repeated, rolling the word on my tongue like it might bite me. "That sounds... a lot like 'heresy.'"

Luke snorted, nearly choking on his stew. "Well, you're not wrong," he muttered under his breath. Thalia shot him a sharp look, but he just grinned and shrugged.

"He's our... king of the gods," Annabeth explained, choosing her words carefully. "Lord of the sky, ruler of Mount Olympus. Pretty much the most powerful god there is on Olympus."

"Most powerful," Thalia scoffed. "Yeah, right."

I glanced between them, sensing something deeper than just casual frustration. Thalia's face had that tight, bitter look she'd get whenever she was brooding — which was often.

"You don't like him?" I asked.

"Let's just say Zeus isn't exactly 'Father of the Year,'" Thalia muttered, her voice low.

Luke jumped in, probably to steer the conversation away from whatever was brewing in Thalia's head. "The Greek gods are basically this big dysfunctional family — power-hungry, paranoid, and way too dramatic for their own good. Zeus is the one in charge... supposedly."

"Supposedly?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Well..." Luke jabbed his golf club toward Thalia. "Technically, she's his daughter."

I blinked. "You're Zeus' kid?" I asked Thalia.

"Don't get excited," she said flatly. "It's not exactly something I brag about."

I frowned, confused. "Isn't that... a good thing? If he's powerful and all?"

"You'd think," Thalia muttered darkly.

"Zeus broke an oath," Annabeth cut in, her voice softer. "He swore — along with Poseidon and Hades — that they wouldn't have any more demigod kids. Their children were... too powerful. Too dangerous."

I stared at Thalia, trying to imagine her being considered too dangerous. Sure, she was sharp-tongued and fearless, but dangerous? That didn't sit right.

"So... what happened?" I asked.

"My mom," Thalia said, her tone cold and clipped. "Zeus couldn't keep his promises — big surprise — and I ended up being hunted for most of my life because of it." Her hand drifted to her spear resting against the wall. "I got good at running."

I didn't know what to say to that. I knew what it was like to run — but not from gods. Not because of who you were.

"You're lucky," Luke said suddenly, shifting the focus. "If you haven't run into any of the gods yet, you're doing something right."

"Yeah, well..." I muttered, stirring the empty pot. "I wouldn't even know what to look for."

"Trust me, you'd know," Thalia said. "They like to make a scene."

"Like that Fury," Annabeth added. "Alecto? She's one of Hades' servants. There's worse out there — way worse."

I shifted uncomfortably at that. "Worse?" I echoed, flicking my tail — well, not literally, but it sure felt like it sometimes — in annoyance. "What's worse than a shrieking bat-woman with a sword?"

"You'd be surprised," Thalia muttered. She leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. "The Minotaur, hydras, drakons... And the gods? They're not exactly known for their kindness."

"Some are better than others," Annabeth said quickly, shooting Thalia a look.

"Yeah," Luke added with a dry chuckle, "but 'better' doesn't mean nice. They're powerful, dangerous, and usually way too busy being petty to care about anyone but themselves."

I frowned, ears twitching slightly. "Sounds like... daemons," I said, the word leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

Luke tilted his head. "Daemons?"

I paused, choosing my words carefully. "In the Warp... they're... beings of power. All they want is destruction, madness — they'll twist you apart just for fun. But they'll smile while they do it." I shivered, memories threatening to resurface. The whispers... the faces...

"That's... not far off," Luke said grimly. "The gods aren't as bad as that, but some of their followers... yeah, they can be just as bad."

"So... this Hades guy?" I asked. "The one that bat-lady works for — is he one of the bad ones?"

"Not... exactly," Annabeth said carefully. "He's the god of the Underworld. King of the dead."

I stared at her. "You mean, like... Nurgle?"

"The what now?" Luke asked.

"Big... bloated... rot-god. Kinda fond of plagues." I grimaced. "His followers try to hug you to death. It's... unpleasant."

Annabeth's face twisted in disgust. "No," she said firmly. "Hades isn't like that. He's just... cold. Quiet. He's not evil, but... he's not exactly friendly either."

"Just don't mess with him," Thalia muttered. "Or his stuff."

"Yeah," Luke added with a grin. "Especially his Helm of Darkness. Guy's real touchy about that."

I blinked. "He's got a magic helmet?"

"Oh yeah," Luke said, sounding almost impressed. "It makes him invisible. Sneakiest guy on Olympus."

I perked up slightly at that. "Invisible, huh?" I tapped my fingers against the side of the pot. "Might come in handy."

"Don't get any ideas," Thalia warned.

"No promises," I muttered, smirking to myself.

We settled into a comfortable silence after that, the fire crackling as the last embers of our meal faded. Luke leaned back against the wall, his golf club propped across his lap. Thalia closed her eyes, pretending to sleep — though I knew better. She was too tense for that. Annabeth had her nose buried in one of her worn-out books, her fingers tracing the words as her lips moved silently.

I let my gaze drift upward. The stars peeked through the broken ceiling, faint and distant. They weren't like the cold, flickering lights I remembered from Cadia's sky — these were softer, calmer. For a moment, I let myself breathe. No daemons. No screaming storms. No endless war.

"...You okay?" Thalia's voice broke the quiet.

I flicked my eyes toward her. She wasn't looking at me, but her posture had shifted — her arms still crossed, but her fingers tapped a restless rhythm against her elbow.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I'm just... not used to this."

"This?" Thalia asked.

I hesitated, struggling to find the words. "Quiet. Calm. No... screaming or... things trying to crawl inside your skull." I swallowed hard. "It's weird."

"That's not weird," Luke muttered from his spot. "That's called peace."

"Doesn't feel like peace," I said. "Feels like... waiting."

Luke's grin faded slightly. "Yeah," he said. "I know what you mean."

For a while, none of us spoke. The fire popped, and a cool breeze stirred through the cracks in the wall. I shifted, curling my knees to my chest. Instinct, I supposed — make yourself small, stay warm, keep your eyes open.

"You don't have to talk about it," Thalia said suddenly. "But... if you ever want to..." She trailed off, voice softer than usual. "We're here."

I glanced at her, surprised. Thalia wasn't exactly the comforting type — more like 'stab first, comfort later.' But there was no teasing in her voice now, no sharp edge to her words. Just... understanding.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

She gave a short nod, then leaned back again, closing her eyes once more.

I sat there, watching the fire flicker and fade, feeling the warmth of my friends nearby. For once, I didn't feel like I was just waiting for the next fight — or the next nightmare.

For once, I felt... safe.

That didn't last long.

The next morning we realized we forgot to take the stew off the fire.

"No... this can't be..." Luke dramatically wept, grieving for his lost meal. "I could have eaten it still..."

I snorted, watching Luke mourn the charred remains of what used to be our dinner. The pot — or rather, the dented Laestrygonian helmet — was now coated in a black, crusty layer that smelled vaguely like smoke and despair.

"You wouldn't have eaten that," I said flatly, standing up and brushing the dirt off my pants.

"I would have tried," Luke shot back, clutching his chest like I'd just insulted his honor. "I've survived on worse."

"No, you've refused to survive on worse," Thalia muttered, kicking a stray pebble toward him. "Pretty sure you once starved yourself for two days because a gas station hot dog 'looked suspicious.'"

"That hot dog had eyes," Luke argued.

I blinked. "...What?"

"He's not exaggerating," Annabeth chimed in from her corner, rolling up her sleeping bag. "It was just one of those gross mystery meat things, but Luke kept muttering about how it was 'watching him.'"

"It was," Luke insisted. "I know what I saw."

"You know what I see?" Thalia cut in. "Empty packs, no food, and a moron crying over burnt sludge."

"Hey!" Luke barked.

"She's got a point," I said, grabbing my pack and slinging it over my shoulder. "We need supplies."

Annabeth sighed, tucking her book under her arm. "There's a town about five miles south. I saw a sign on my map."

"Think we can get there without something trying to kill us?" Thalia asked.

"No," Luke and I answered at the same time.

"Well, at least we're realistic," Thalia muttered, adjusting the strap of her spear.

We packed up what little we had left — mostly some stale granola bars and half a bottle of water — and started walking. The road was cracked and uneven, overgrown with weeds and littered with rusted street signs. Buildings slumped on either side like forgotten skeletons, windows shattered, walls streaked with grime.

I kept my senses sharp, ears twitching at every creak of wood or scuff of gravel. Luke whistled tunelessly as he walked, golf club resting on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Thalia kept her spear out, eyes scanning the rooftops. Annabeth trailed behind, nose buried in a battered map.

"You know," Luke started, glancing at me, "I still have a question, yesterday you said something about a guy called Nurgle. We have a guy here with a similar name. Though he isn't real. Are there any other "Gods" from where you're from.

Luke's question caught me off guard, and I didn't answer right away.

"Yeah," I said slowly. "A lot of them."

Luke waited, but when I didn't elaborate, he gestured with his golf club like that would somehow drag more words out of me. "And?"

I sighed. "The gods back home aren't like yours. They're... not people. Not really. More like... ideas. Hunger, rage, despair — stuff like that. And they don't just mess with you from a distance." I shivered involuntarily. "If they get inside your head, you're done."

"Sounds like my stepmom," Annabeth muttered.

I gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, except your stepmom doesn't make your blood boil until you claw your own face off."

Annabeth grimaced. "...I'll take my stepmom."

"So... Nurgle," Thalia said. "What's his deal?"

I glanced at Thalia, unsure how much I should say. Memories of bloated corpses and the stench of decay clawed at the edges of my mind. Nurgle's grin — wide and rotting — flashed before my eyes.

"He's... the god of plague," I said finally. "Sickness, rot, all that lovely stuff." I tried to keep my voice light, but the weight of the memories clung to me. "His followers are... devoted. They think his 'gifts' are blessings — boils, fevers, disease that never stops spreading. And if you're unlucky enough to catch his attention... well, he'll keep you alive through it all, just to watch you suffer."

Luke wrinkled his nose. "That's disgusting."

"Yeah," I muttered. "He'd probably love your hot dog story."

Luke shot me a glare, but Thalia snorted, breaking the tension.

"So, what? You've got plague gods— what else?" Thalia asked.

I shifted uncomfortably. "There's also Khorne — god of rage and war. He doesn't care who you are, as long as you're killing something."

"Sounds like Ares," Thalia muttered.

I shook my head. "Ares sounds like a schoolyard bully compared to Khorne. His followers... they lose themselves. They fight until there's nothing left — not even themselves."

Luke whistled low. "Remind me not to visit wherever you're from."

"Trust me," I said darkly, "you're better off."

Annabeth cleared her throat, tapping her map. "We can talk about murder gods later. We need food first."

"Agreed," Thalia said. "I'm not surviving on burnt sludge."

We set off down the cracked road, boots crunching on loose gravel. The air was stale, and the buildings sagged like they'd been forgotten for years. Windows were either smashed or coated in grime. A rusted shopping cart lay abandoned in the middle of the street, its wheels twisted.

Luke walked ahead, twirling his golf club lazily, but I knew better — his eyes kept flicking to shadows and broken doorways. Thalia stayed closer to Annabeth, her spear out and ready. The silence wasn't comforting — it felt like something was watching us, waiting for the right moment to strike.

I kept my senses sharp. My ears twitched at faint noises — scuttling rats, a gust of wind shifting debris — but nothing seemed immediate. Still, my skin prickled like I'd been doused in static.

"We're not gonna find much here," Thalia muttered. "If anything lived in this place, it's long gone."

Annabeth squinted at her map. "There's a gas station about a block down. Might still have some snacks — if Luke doesn't burn them this time."

"Ha ha," Luke shot back dryly.

We pressed on, boots crunching on broken glass. A twisted street sign groaned in the wind, hanging by a single bolt. The skeletal remains of a car rusted in the gutter, its tires long deflated. I couldn't help but feel like this place had been... forgotten. The air was stale, like the world itself had moved on without it.

Luke paused ahead of us, raising a hand. "Wait."

I froze instantly, instinct taking over. My fingers twitched toward my knife, and I felt my muscles coil — ready to bolt, strike, or both.

"You hear that?" Luke murmured.

We all strained to listen. A faint, wet wheezing sound echoed from an alleyway up ahead — like something breathing through a clogged pipe.

"Monster?" Annabeth asked quietly.

"Could be a stray," Thalia said, though she didn't sound convinced.

"Let me check it out," I said.

"Khaine—" Thalia started, but I was already moving.

I slipped forward, muscles loose, steps silent. The shadows swallowed me up as I crept toward the noise. I wasn't sure when I'd started moving like this — too smooth, too quiet — but it felt right. Natural. Like I belonged in the dark.

I edged closer to the alleyway, crouching low. The sound came again — that wet, gurgling wheeze. I eased my head around the corner... and froze.

Curled up beside a toppled dumpster was a creature I barely recognized.

It was no bigger than a small dog — its scaly body dull and cracked, like old leather left out too long in the sun. Its red underbelly was blotchy and discolored, and a faint, sulfurous stench hung around it. The creature's nine heads lay limp, barely twitching. Each one wheezed shallowly, and thin trails of smoke curled from its slack jaws.

I blinked. A Hydra?

But this wasn't like the monster Thalia had described — no towering snake-beast, no swarming heads spewing acid. This thing was... dying.

"What is it?" Luke whispered behind me, making me flinch.

I didn't answer right away. My eyes locked on the Hydra's trembling frame.

"It's... small," I muttered. "And... sick?"

Thalia and Annabeth crept up beside us, Annabeth's eyes widening as she saw the creature.

"That's a red-bellied Hydra," she said in disbelief. "They're... supposed to be endangered."

"Well, it's about to be extinct," Luke muttered grimly.

The Hydra let out a weak hiss, barely lifting one of its heads before it flopped back down. Its sides heaved with every breath.

"Should we... kill it?" Thalia asked, gripping her spear tightly.

I didn't answer right away. Something about the thing made my stomach twist. It wasn't just the smell or the cracked scales — it was the way it felt. Like the air around it was off, warped somehow.

"I don't think we need to," I said quietly. "It's not gonna last much longer."

Annabeth crouched closer, her face tense. "I think it's been... poisoned," she said. "Or maybe burned?"

"Burned?" Thalia asked.

Annabeth nodded. "Look at its scales — the black marks. Something scorched it, but not enough to kill it outright."

The Hydra let out another weak, rattling hiss, its heads twitching as if they barely had the strength to move. Then, to my surprise, one of the heads lifted — just slightly — and turned toward me.

I froze, muscles tensing. The air seemed to thicken, heavy and sharp like ozone before a storm. The Hydra's dull eyes fixed on mine, clouded and faint, yet strangely focused. One of its heads — the smallest one, with a ragged tear along its jaw — let out a soft, pathetic whine.

Then it started slithering toward me.

"Uh..." Luke shifted his grip on his golf club. "Should we... stop that?"

"It's barely moving," Thalia muttered. "Doesn't seem like much of a threat."

"Yeah, well, I've seen enough dying things suddenly not die to know better," Luke shot back.

The Hydra dragged itself closer, its nine heads barely lifting as its limp body scraped against the pavement. I should've backed away — instinct screamed at me to move — but something kept me rooted.

The Hydra paused right in front of me, its heads drooping as it slumped to the ground. One head — the one with the torn jaw — nosed weakly at my boot. Its scales were dry and brittle, flaking off like dead skin. It let out another faint whimper, curling closer against my leg like... like a stray cat begging for warmth.

I didn't know what to do.

"I think it's... bonding with him?" Thalia said, sounding about as uncertain as I felt.

"Great," Luke muttered. "Now you've got a diseased murder noodle as a pet."

"It's not a pet," I said quickly — though I wasn't sure what it was.

"It's a Hydra," Annabeth snapped, voice tight. "Khaine, you can't seriously—"

"I didn't do anything!" I shot back. "It just... came to me."

"Yeah, because monsters like you," Annabeth muttered under her breath.

I bristled, biting back a sharp reply. I knew she didn't mean it — not really — but that didn't make it sting any less.

The Hydra let out a faint, rasping breath, its cracked scales rising and falling in shallow waves. Its torn jaw nudged my ankle again, like it was trying to get comfortable.

"...We can't just leave it," I said quietly.

"You want to carry that thing?" Thalia asked, incredulous.

"It's dying," I said. "If we leave it here, something worse is gonna find it."

"I hate to break it to you," Luke said, "but if you drag that thing along with us, we're gonna be the worse thing that finds it."

I knew he wasn't wrong. We barely had enough supplies for ourselves — no food, barely any water — and hauling a sick, smoke-leaking Hydra through the wilderness wasn't exactly low profile.

But still...

I knelt down beside the creature. Its scales radiated heat — not the healthy kind, but the feverish warmth of something burning itself out. My hand hovered over its side before I let my fingers brush its battered scales. The Hydra let out a soft, contented rumble — almost like a purr — and curled closer to me.

"Oh, come on," Annabeth groaned. "Now it's cuddling?"

"I'm starting to think Khaine's secretly a Disney princess," Luke muttered.

"I heard that," I said dryly, not sure what Disney is.

The Hydra twitched again, one of its heads shifting just enough to bump its snout against my arm. Its breath stank of sulfur and ash, but the movement wasn't aggressive — it felt... trusting.

"...We can't just leave it," I said again, softer this time.

Annabeth groaned like she was being personally cursed by the Gods herself. "Fine. But if it mutates or spits acid or — I don't know — grows extra heads overnight, you're dealing with it."

"I'll keep it away from you," I promised.

"You better," she muttered, turning away to consult her map again.

Luke shook his head, grinning like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "I give it two days before it eats your boots."

I didn't answer. My hand lingered on the Hydra's side, feeling its shallow, strained breaths slow just a little. Its broken scales seemed to lose some of their tension, and the faint heat radiating off it dulled slightly.

"You're gonna make this difficult, aren't you?" I muttered.

The Hydra gave a faint, breathy croak — something between a hiss and a sigh — and nuzzled closer.

I had my answer.

"Wait..." Thalia interrupted. "If this thing's been fighting something, that something's still out there."

I froze, my hand still resting on the Hydra's feverish scales. The air seemed colder now, and my ears twitched at every distant creak or groan in the building.

"You think whatever did this is still nearby?" Luke asked, tightening his grip on his golf club.

"Yeah," Thalia said grimly. "And if this thing's still breathing, then whatever attacked it didn't finish the job."

Annabeth let out a shaky breath, her knuckles white around her map. "We should go. Now."

The Hydra gave a weak, rattling sigh and burrowed closer to my side. Its cracked scales pressed against my arm, and one of its heads curled under my elbow like it thought I could protect it.

"I can't just leave it," I said quietly.

"You have to," Annabeth snapped. Her voice was sharper than usual, her nerves frayed. "If that thing's still out there—"

CRUNCH.

The sound of something heavy — big — stepping on glass echoed down the street.

We all went still.

"Time to move," Luke muttered.

I grabbed the Hydra carefully, trying not to jostle it too much. It was lighter than I expected — all bones and dry scales — and didn't protest when I lifted it. The Hydra let out a faint, wheezing croak, barely able to keep one of its heads aloft.

"You're really bringing that thing?" Thalia whispered harshly.

I shot her a look. "Later."

We slipped out of the alleyway, sticking to the shadows as we made our way deeper into the ruined streets. The air smelled of mildew and rot, and every gust of wind seemed to carry a faint, sulfurous stench.

Another crunch. Closer this time.

I dared a glance back — and my stomach twisted.

Emerging from the ruins was something out of a nightmare.

It moved like a snake, slithering forward in slow, powerful waves. Its scales were dark green, mottled with patches of black and oily red. Its head was massive — a wedge-shaped skull with gleaming yellow eyes that swept the street like searchlights. Its jaws parted slightly, revealing jagged, uneven fangs that glistened with slime. The air around it shimmered with heat, and smoke curled from the cracks in its scales.

"A drakon," Annabeth whispered in horror.

"That's a baby?" Luke hissed.

"It's the size of a car!" Thalia added.

"Big babies grow up to be bigger adults," I muttered grimly.

The Hydra in my arms shivered, its heads curling tight against its body. I could feel its shallow, rapid breathing against my chest. The drakon's eyes swept past us — then stopped.

"Go," I muttered. "Now."

"But—" Thalia started.

"Just go!"

Luke grabbed Annabeth's arm and bolted down the street. Thalia followed, but she kept glancing back like she wanted to punch me for staying behind.

The drakon's gaze locked onto me, its pupils narrowing to thin slits.

It lunged.

I barely twisted away in time, slamming my shoulder into a crumbling wall as the drakon's jaws snapped where I'd been standing. The Hydra gave a weak, pitiful hiss in my arms.

The drakon reared back, its thick coils slithering forward with bone-cracking force. I backed away slowly, my legs tense. I knew better than to run outright — predators liked that.

"Easy," I muttered. My voice came out low and instinctive — more growl than words. The drakon's head swayed, watching me carefully.

Then its gaze flicked down to the Hydra in my arms — and its lips curled back in something that almost looked like a grin.

It lunged again.

This time, I sprang sideways, twisting in midair to keep the Hydra out of the drakon's reach. I hit the ground hard, rolled, and scrambled back to my feet. The drakon's jaws slammed into the pavement where I'd been, crushing asphalt like paper.

I bolted.

"Get clear!" I barked as I sprinted after the others.

Ahead, Luke skidded to a stop at the corner of a ruined gas station. "Khaine!"

"Working on it!" I yelled.

The drakon surged after me, scales grinding against the pavement like stone dragging over metal. I swore and ducked behind an overturned truck, breathing hard.

"You've got a plan, right?" Luke called from the gas station doorway.

"Not yet!" I shouted back.

The drakon rounded the corner, eyes blazing. Its jaws snapped at me again — I barely ducked away in time. My back hit the truck's rusted side, and I had nowhere left to go.

The drakon hissed, smoke curling from its mouth. I could feel the heat on my face — like a furnace about to blow.

Then, weakly, the Hydra in my arms stirred. One of its heads lifted, its dull eyes narrowing as it stared at the drakon. Its jaw opened just slightly... and a thin wisp of toxic green mist trickled out.

The drakon's eyes widened — just for a second.

"Now!" Luke shouted.

I bolted sideways as Luke swung his golf club with everything he had. The club's metal head smashed into the drakon's snout with a loud crack.

The drakon reared back with a furious roar.

"Not bad," I panted, stumbling to Luke's side.

"Yeah, yeah," Luke muttered. "Don't let it kill me."

The drakon shook its head, then lunged again — but this time, Annabeth was ready. She darted in from the side, slashing her dagger across the drakon's eye. The blade barely scratched it, but the drakon hissed and recoiled, swiping blindly.

"Go!" Thalia barked, covering us with her spear. Lightning crackled down its length as she stabbed forward, forcing the drakon to retreat.

We ran.

The drakon's furious roar followed us down the street, but it didn't give chase. Either the injury was enough to slow it down... or it knew we weren't worth the effort.

We didn't stop running until we were halfway back to the abandoned building.

"Everyone okay?" Thalia asked, breathless.

"Yeah," Luke panted. "Still in one piece."

Annabeth was clutching her side but nodded.

I exhaled slowly and glanced down at the Hydra in my arms. Its eyes were half-closed now, but one of its heads nudged weakly at my hand.

"You're really keeping that thing, huh?" Luke muttered.

"Looks like it," I said quietly.

Thalia shook her head. "You're lucky Annabeth didn't stab you."

Annabeth shot me a glare, but I caught the hint of relief in her eyes.

"Next time," I muttered, shifting the Hydra closer against my chest, "we turn off the fire."

We started our pace down the path, the gas station behind us having been destroyed. 

"Oh crap- wait that was the wrong Gas station," Annabeth said as she pointed to a second Gas Station, food visible in the windows.

We stared at the second gas station — a blocky, faded building with boarded-up windows and a crooked sign barely hanging above the door. Despite the grime and neglect, I could still make out snack wrappers, bottled drinks, and other supplies inside.

"You're kidding me," Luke groaned. "All that running, and that's the place with the food?"

"Could've mentioned that sooner," Thalia grumbled.

Annabeth shot her a glare. "I was a little busy not getting eaten."

"Less arguing, more eating," Luke said, already heading for the door.

The Hydra shifted in my arms, letting out a weak, breathy sigh. It was barely conscious now, its scales dull and dry. I bit my lip. I wasn't sure how much longer it had.

"You guys go ahead," I said quietly. "I'll stay with this one."

Thalia frowned. "You're seriously still—"

"I know," I said, cutting her off. "But I'm not just leaving it."

Annabeth sighed heavily but didn't argue. "Fine. Just... don't die."

Luke kicked in what remained of the door with his boot, sending splinters flying. "If they have beef jerky," he called over his shoulder, "I'm claiming it."

"Yeah, yeah," Thalia muttered, following him inside.

I knelt by the wall, setting the Hydra down carefully. It barely twitched, one of its heads resting against my knee. Up close, I could see more of its injuries — the deep burns across its scales, the twisted, broken spines down its back. I didn't know what that Drakon did to it... but whatever it was, it had fought hard to survive.

"Hang in there," I muttered.

The Hydra let out a faint croak, curling tighter against me like I was something safe — which felt ridiculous, considering I'd barely managed to keep myself alive.

Moments later, Luke stumbled back outside with his arms full of bags — chips, granola bars, even a couple of dented soda cans. Annabeth followed, stuffing bottled water into her pack, and Thalia brought up the rear, clutching a large plastic jug.

"Found this in the back," Thalia said, shaking the jug. "It's not cold, but it's water."

"Thank you," I said. "Here—" I reached for it, but Annabeth surprised me by stepping closer.

"Let me," she muttered. Without meeting my eyes, she knelt beside the Hydra and carefully unscrewed the cap. "I'm not saying this is a good idea," she warned, "but if you're gonna insist on keeping it... at least let me help."

I blinked in surprise but didn't argue. Annabeth poured a small trickle of water along the Hydra's cracked scales. The creature shifted, one of its heads stretching toward the bottle like it recognized the scent. Annabeth tilted the bottle closer, letting the Hydra lap weakly at the water.

"There," she murmured, quieter now. "That's better, isn't it?"

I felt a lump rise in my throat. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she muttered, tightening the cap. "Seriously. Don't."

Luke plopped down beside me, tearing open a bag of chips. "So," he said between bites, "what are we calling this thing?"

"We're not naming it," Annabeth snapped.

"Too late," Luke shot back, grinning. "I saw the look on Khaine's face. He's already picked one."

I glanced down at the Hydra, its torn jaw resting against my knee. "Ananke," I said quietly.

Thalia, who'd been mid-sip from a can of soda, choked. "What did you just say?"

I blinked. "Ananke. It's... my grandmother's name. At least, that's what my mom told me."

Thalia stared at me like I'd just announced I was planning to marry the Hydra. "You do know that's—" She stopped, her gaze flicking down to the Hydra, then back to me. Her expression softened just a little. "Never mind. It fits."

"Wait, wait, wait." Luke sat up straighter, still chewing on a mouthful of chips. "Are you telling me you named your weird fever lizard after some lady from your family tree?"

"It's better than 'diseased murder noodle,'" I muttered.

Luke laughed. "I dunno, that one had character."

"I don't know," Annabeth said, surprising me. "It fits."

The Hydra — Ananke — shifted again, curling a little tighter against my leg like it had claimed that spot as its own.

"Great," Thalia said, sighing dramatically. "We've got a pet murder noodle named after destiny."

"I'm not calling it a murder noodle," I said plainly, though Luke snickered behind his bag of chips.

We sat there quietly for a while, the tension starting to ease. Thalia took a swig from her soda, and Annabeth meticulously organized the food they'd scavenged — rationing it out with the precision of someone who'd done this way too often.

"Alright," Luke said, tossing a crumpled chip bag aside. "Who's eating what?"

We divvied up what we could — granola bars, stale crackers, a few crushed cans of soda. It wasn't much, but after the fight with the drakon, it felt like a feast. Even Ananke perked up when I carefully dribbled a few more drops of water along its snout. One of its smaller heads flicked out its tongue, licking the moisture like it was the best thing in the world.

"You're really keeping this thing," Thalia muttered.

"I guess," I said. "It's... I don't know. It's not like it's got anyone else."

That shut her up.

The sky was starting to darken by the time we finished eating. The air still smelled faintly of sulfur and smoke, but the Drakon that wasn't following us anymore. We'd have to move again in the morning, but for now... things felt calm. Safe, even.

Luke flopped down with a satisfied sigh, resting his head on his pack. "Y'know," he mumbled sleepily, "if you told me this morning we'd survive a drakon attack and adopt a Hydra... I'd probably have hit you in the head with my golf club."

"You still might," Annabeth muttered, though her voice was softer now.

"Don't tempt me," Luke shot back.

"Go to sleep," Thalia ordered, flopping her jacket over her shoulders like a blanket.

I shifted Ananke closer, letting it rest just beside me. It let out a faint, breathy sigh — like it had finally relaxed.

"You're safe now," I muttered, more to myself than to the Hydra.

Its dull, clouded eyes blinked once, slowly — like it believed me.

For the first time in what felt like days, I let my head rest against the wall and closed my eyes.

"Goodnight, Ananke," I whispered.

I swore I heard it purr.

*

*

*

*

*

DGW: Hello everyone, thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you have any suspicions on who the god the MC's descended from is, feel free to guess. There are hints throughout the story. If you have complaints feel free to tell me I will listen. With that said, I'm Signing off.

Tools used: FANDOMS app, Google Docs, Spotify, 

Suggest Love Interest Here: anyone is allowed, except anyone two or more years younger than the MC

Suggested Love Interest: Percy Jackson (he's 1 year older than the MC)

Word Count: 7176

Chapter Text

I awoke in an unknown place.

Mountains of bright red sand surrounded me, stretching endlessly in every direction.

"Where am I?" I muttered aloud, only to instantly regret it as I spat out a mouthful of grit.

The air was thin, dry—lifeless. A dull wind howled across the dunes, whispering in a language I couldn't understand. Above me, the sky was an endless expanse of burnt orange, choked with swirling dust. No stars. No sun. Just the void, stretching forever.

Brushing the coarse grains from my clothes, I stood. My boots sank slightly into the sand as I turned in place, scanning the horizon. Nothing. No ruins, no structures, no signs of life. Just an endless desert of rust-colored dunes.

Yet, something about this place felt... wrong.

The air thrummed—not with life, but with something deeper, something vast and unknowable. It wasn't the Warp, not entirely, but it wasn't realspace either. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into an abyss without a bottom.

I moved forward, my steps slow and deliberate. The sand shifted beneath me, whispering as it slipped away. The further I walked, the heavier the air became, thick with a pressure I couldn't explain. My ears rang. My chest tightened. But I pushed on.

Then, the dunes ended.

The sand fell away into jagged cliffs, revealing a canyon stretching beyond my sight. And at the bottom, half-buried in the earth, lay something impossible.

A monolith of black metal. Fractured. Broken. Yet still pulsing with an eerie, inner glow. Its surface rippled, shifting like liquid mercury, as if reality itself struggled to define what it was.

And then, I heard it.

A deep, resonant hum—more felt than heard. It vibrated through my bones, through the ground, through the very air.

The monolith was not dead. It was sleeping.

No. Not sleeping.

Waiting.

I took a step closer—

And the world shattered.

The sand erupted, torn asunder by a force beyond reckoning. A roar split the air, vast and consuming, not just a sound but an event—something that reshaped existence itself.

I was thrown back, rolling across the dunes like a ragdoll. I gasped, lungs burning, and forced my eyes open.

I saw it.

Rising from the canyon, wreathed in shadow and fire, was a dragon.

Not a beast of flesh and blood, but something far older, far greater. Its form was both solid and shifting, made of liquid metal and crackling energy. As if the concept of a dragon had been forged into something real. Something absolute.

Twin suns of electric fury burned in its eyes as they locked onto me.

I couldn't move.

It reared back, jagged wings unfurling in arcs of black lightning. Reality trembled around it, bending, warping, rewriting itself.

It opened its maw—an abyss of pure annihilation.

I knew, in that moment, that I was going to die.

A flash of white-hot energy surged toward me—

And I woke up.

Gasping.

Heart pounding.

Something wet and rough dragged across my face.

I blinked, disoriented, and found myself staring into the dark, gleaming eyes of Ananke. The hydra's heads tilted, tongues flicking out as she licked my cheek again. Her breath was warm, oddly reassuring.

"Rise and shine, Cat Boy," Thalia muttered, her voice dry with pain. She was leaning against the alley wall, holding a hand against her fractured leg. "Have a nice nap?"

I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep—or whatever was left of that dream—out of my eyes. Ananke let out a huff, curling protectively around me, her tongues flicking in the air. The alley smelled of damp concrete, garbage, and faint car exhaust.

"I didn't sleep in," I mumbled, still shaking off the lingering weight of the dream. "I just... didn't want to get up."

Thalia snorted before wincing as she shifted. "That's the same thing." She grimaced, rubbing her swollen leg. "What's got you looking like death warmed over?"

I hesitated.

Telling her about the dream was pointless. They already thought I was weird, and explaining that I'd come face-to-face with a dragon made of liquid metal and annihilation wasn't exactly normal breakfast conversation.

Instead, I stretched and looked around.

Luke was sitting against the wall, tossing a golden drachma in the air, catching it with practiced ease. His expression was distant, thoughtful. Annabeth sat cross-legged beside him, her nose buried in a crumpled tourist map of Wisconsin. She glanced up as I moved, sharp brown eyes scanning me like she was piecing together a puzzle.

"You're twitchy," she noted. "Something happen?"

I shook my head. "Bad dream."

Annabeth didn't look convinced, but she didn't push.

Luke flipped the coin one last time before catching it, eyes narrowing. "Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty. While you were off having nightmares, Annabeth and I were figuring out our next move."

I glanced at the map. "And?"

"We need to find a safer place to sleep," Annabeth said, tapping a spot on the paper. "This alley is fine for now, but it's only a matter of time before someone calls the cops. Or worse—monsters."

As if on cue, Ananke let out a low rumble, her tails flicking. To mortals, thanks to the Mist, she was just a mangy pit bull. To us, she was a hydra.

Thalia winced as she adjusted her injured leg, shooting Luke an annoyed look. "And where exactly are we supposed to go? Doubt a five-star hotel is in our budget."

Luke caught the drachma, slipping it into his pocket. "We need somewhere quiet, off the radar, and preferably not crawling with monsters." He hesitated. "I know a place."

Annabeth frowned. "Where?"

Luke rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "My mom's house."

Silence.

Thalia blinked. "Wait. You mean the house? The one with the creepy visions and—"

"Yes," Luke cut in, jaw tightening. "That house."

Annabeth frowned. "I thought you swore never to go back."

Luke let out a slow breath, fingers drumming against his knee. "I did. But Thalia's leg is getting worse, we're low on supplies, and I don't see any better options." He looked at her. "You need rest. Real rest. Or you'll be limping into the next fight."

Thalia scowled but didn't argue. "Fine. But if your mom starts spouting prophecy nonsense at me, I'm leaving."

Luke smirked, though there wasn't much humor in it. "Noted."

Annabeth looked between them, then at me. "You okay with this, Khaine?"

I shrugged. "I go where you guys go."

Luke nodded, standing. "Alright. Westport's a ways from here. Let's move."

We gathered our things—what little we had—and slipped out of the alley. The early morning streets were crisp, quiet. No monsters. Yet.

As we walked, I found myself glancing at Luke. He wasn't talking much. His grip on his golf club was tight, his posture tense.

Going back home wasn't something he wanted to do.

And that made me wonder—if even he was wary of that place, just how bad was it?

The walk to Westport felt longer than it actually was. Maybe it was the weight of Thalia leaning on my shoulder, her injury slowing us down. Maybe it was the tension rolling off Luke in waves as we got closer to his old home. Annabeth kept glancing at him, brows furrowed, but she didn't say anything. Even Ananke, usually content to slink beside me like a living shadow, was restless, her heads constantly turning to sniff the air.

Westport was different from the other towns we'd passed through. It was cleaner, quieter—too quiet. The kind of quiet that felt unnatural, like the world was holding its breath. The houses were big, the streets lined with trees, and everything looked perfect in that way only rich mortal neighborhoods did. But I knew better than to trust appearances.

Luke led the way, his steps more hesitant the closer we got. When we finally stopped, I knew we'd arrived.

The house might've been beautiful once, but time had worn it down. The shutters peeled in strips, the porch sagged, and the yard was a mess of weeds. But that wasn't what made my skin crawl.

It was the house itself.

It watched.

Not literally—there were no eyes, no shifting shadows—but I felt it. The walls remembered things they shouldn't. The air inside had been stretched too thin, as if something unseen had pressed against it for too long. The house wasn't just abandoned.

It was waiting.

Luke swallowed hard and started to move forward—only to be stopped by a booming voice from above.

"You shouldn't have returned."

We all looked up.

A man sat perched in a tree, his form shifting like a glitch in reality. One second he was a police officer, the next a track star. Then, for some reason, he looked like that Hamilton guy Annabeth once told me about. For a brief moment, he was back to being the cop—only with a ridiculous bowl cut.

Then he landed lightly on the ground, his form stabilizing into a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, an athletic build, and a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. He wore a bomber jacket over a casual button-up and jeans, but there was something wrong about him. Not in a monstrous way, not like the things that hunted us, but like he didn't belong here. Like he was just visiting.

Luke's grip on his golf club tightened. "Who are you?"

The man tilted his head. "You don't recognize me?" He sighed dramatically. "Kids these days. No respect for their elders."

Thalia tensed beside me, despite her injured leg, her eyes flickering with electricity. "You're not mortal."

"Obviously," the man said, almost amused. "But you? You're a little spark of fun. Zeus' kid, huh? Can't say I'm surprised."

Thalia scowled. "You know my dad?"

The man snorted. "Know him? We work together." He grinned like he'd just told a great joke. "Well, in a manner of speaking."

Annabeth stepped forward, studying him. I could see her mind racing, putting the pieces together.

"You're a god," she said slowly.

"Sharp one, aren't you?" He grinned. "Athena's kid, I take it. Always thinking, always analyzing. Good, good."

Annabeth's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

The smirk didn't waver, but something in his gaze shifted—sharp, knowing. Like he was weighing whether or not to tell us.

Then he looked at Luke.

"Well now," he said, too casually. "Look at you. Been a while, hasn't it?"

Luke stiffened. His expression darkened in a way I'd never seen before. He stepped forward, jaw clenched, knuckles white around his golf club.

"You have no right to be here," Luke said coldly. "Leave."

The man raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Luke didn't answer.

I glanced between them. Whatever was happening, it wasn't just a random encounter. There was history here—bad history.

The man exhaled, shaking his head. "Still holding onto all that anger, huh?" His voice softened just a little. "Kid, I know I—"

"Shut up."

The words cracked through the air like a whip.

Luke's face was unreadable, but his hands were shaking. His whole body was tense, like he was barely holding something back.

Thalia frowned. "Luke?"

He didn't look at her. His eyes were locked on the man in front of us.

Annabeth swallowed. "Luke... do you know him?"

Silence.

Then, in a voice lower, rougher, Luke answered.

"It's Hermes."

I blinked. The name meant nothing to me at first—just another Greek god. Another name from the stories they'd been telling me.

But Annabeth froze. Thalia sucked in a sharp breath.

And Luke...

Luke looked like he wanted to tear something apart.

Hermes—if that was really him—watched Luke carefully, his expression unreadable. "So you do recognize me."

Luke's grip on his golf club tightened. "Yeah," he said, voice like stone. "I do."

"What do you want?"

Hermes sighed, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Straight to the point. Just like your mother." His expression softened for a second—then disappeared. "I came to see you, Luke."

Luke laughed bitterly. "Oh, now you care?" His knuckles turned white. "Where were you when she lost her mind? When I had to run? When I had to take care of everything on my own?"

A shadow crossed Hermes' face—guilt, regret. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by an easy, unreadable expression.

"I've always cared, Luke," Hermes said, quieter now. "But gods don't get to do what we want. We have rules."

Luke shook his head, trembling with anger. "Must be nice. Having an excuse for abandoning your own kid."

I stayed quiet. Thalia looked ready to punch something. Annabeth was analyzing everything. Ananke, for once, was silent, all her heads focused on Hermes.

Hermes exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, I didn't come here to fight. I came to warn you."

"Warn me about what?" Luke spat.

Hermes' gaze flickered toward the house. "Your mother. And what's inside."

A cold weight settled in my stomach.

"You shouldn't be here," Hermes continued. "That house—it's not safe. Not for you. Not for any of you."

Luke's jaw clenched. "I don't care."

Hermes studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Yeah. I figured you'd say that."

Then, in a blur, he reached into his jacket and tossed something at Luke. Instinctively, Luke caught it—an ornate bronze sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light.

Luke stared at it, confused. "What—?"

"Consider it a late gift," Hermes said. "From a father who wishes things were different."

For a moment, something flickered across Luke's face—something raw and vulnerable. But then it was gone, buried under years of resentment.

Luke tucked the sword into his belt. "We don't need your help."

Hermes nodded, unsurprised. He turned to me.

"And you..." His eyes narrowed. "You don't belong here, do you?"

I frowned. "You already said that."

Hermes tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle missing its final piece. "No, I said you all shouldn't be at this house. You—you shouldn't exist." His expression darkened, the ever-present smirk slipping for the first time. "There's something about you... something I can't quite place. And it's not just the cat ears."

His eyes narrowed. "You radiate something akin to Hera."

I blinked. Hera? That was the queen of the gods, right? The one Thalia warned me never to make eye contact with if we ever ran into her. But that didn't make any sense. What did I have to do with her?

Thalia's grip tightened on my shoulder. "That's impossible," she said, but there was hesitation in her voice. She looked at Hermes like she wanted him to take it back.

Annabeth, always the strategist, was watching me now, her storm-gray eyes sharp with calculation. "Hera's not exactly known for taking an interest in... kids."

I shifted under their scrutiny, my ears flicking involuntarily. Beside me, Ananke rumbled low in her throat, her tails curling protectively around my legs.

Hermes was still watching, unreadable. "No, she isn't. But there's something there. Something familiar." He clicked his tongue. "And I don't like not knowing things."

Luke scoffed. "That makes two of us." He crossed his arms. "You done being cryptic, or are you actually going to tell us something useful?"

Hermes sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You kids. So much hostility." He glanced at Luke again, something unspoken flickering in his gaze before he turned back to me. "Whatever it is, it's subtle. Faint. Maybe even incomplete."

Then his attention shifted to Ananke. His smirk returned—not amused, but intrigued. "And that's not a normal Hydra."

Ananke bared her fangs, all her heads locking onto him.

I folded my arms. "She's mine."

Hermes raised his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, I can tell. She's bound to you, isn't she?"

I hesitated, then nodded. I didn't fully understand it myself, but I knew Ananke had chosen to stay with me. She was more than just a pet.

"Interesting," Hermes murmured, almost to himself. Then, as if shaking off a thought, he refocused. "Regardless, my warning stands. You shouldn't be here."

Luke let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? Well, we don't have a choice."

For the first time, frustration flickered in Hermes' expression. "You always have a choice, Luke."

Luke's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer.

Hermes exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Fine. If you're going to ignore my warning, at least be careful." He glanced at me one last time before turning away. "And Khaine? If Hera does take an interest in you... be careful."

Then, in a blink, he was gone.

Silence settled over us, heavy and lingering.

Thalia was the first to break it. "That was—"

"Annoying," Luke muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Annabeth, still watching me, was quieter. "Hera, huh?"

I frowned. "I don't even know who she is."

Thalia snorted. "Consider yourself lucky."

Annabeth, though, looked thoughtful. "Hera doesn't have demigod children. She's too proud for that."

Luke scoffed. "Yeah, well, Khaine's not exactly normal."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."

Annabeth ignored me, her focus unwavering. "But Hermes said it was incomplete. Like a trace of something."

Thalia sighed. "We can figure it out later. Right now, we've got more important things to worry about."

She looked at Luke.

Luke nodded, turning to the house, his expression hard. "Let's get this over with."

I followed his gaze, feeling the weight of the house pressing against me, its presence heavy in the air.

Hermes' warning wasn't just words.

Something was waiting for us inside.

*

*

*

*

*

DGW: Hello everyone, thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you have any suspicions on who the god the MC's descended from is, feel free to guess. There are hints throughout the story. If you have complaints feel free to tell me I will listen. With that said, I'm Signing off.

Tools used: FANDOMS app, Google Docs, Spotify, 

Suggest Love Interest Here: anyone is allowed, except anyone two or more years younger than the MC

Love Interest's that have been suggested :

• Percy Jackson (he's 1 year older than the MC)

• Katie Gardiner (1 year older than the MC)

• Clarisse La Rue (2 years older than the MC) 

• Drew Tanaka (1 year old than the MC) 

Love Interest's I won't do:

• Artemis (physically a child)

• Luke Castellan (he's gonna be 19 when the MC's 11)

• Thalia Grace (Too many stories with her as the love interest)

• Zeus (Hate him)

• Poseidon (I have plans for him)

• Hades

Word Count: 3151