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Chapter Text

Ezra was quite used to terrible dreams. She had them often. In fact, she didn’t think there was a single night in her life where she hadn’t had a nightmare. The strange thing was, the nightmare was the same.

Every. Single. Time.

It was always a dark landscape, the ground rocky and pulsing in a strangely alive manner. It was reminiscent of volcanic rock, yet there were thin lines running through it. Was it blood? Was it lava? Whatever it was, it was far from the worst thing there.

The air felt heavy, toxic in a way that grated on Ezra’s nerves, that made her glance around, tense, reluctant. It felt like all the air was being sucked from her lungs, any scrounged up bits of happiness or hope she might have had drifting away.

And the things she’d seen. Oh god. They were horrible, women with long snake-like tails, fangs glinting in eerie light, shadows that moved and reached and pulled in horrifying manners, giants that loomed over her, with hulking hands that made her shiver.

Tonight was no different, Ezra wandered the hellscape, thin pajamas making her feel vulnerable in such a place as this. You would think that after all this time, she would have gotten used to it. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t. Each night a new monster with a different face was revealed.

When Ezra was awake, she thought that maybe this was hell, and she was just afraid of going to it- which is why she dreamed of it. But truly, what would resign her to the pits of hell? She was only thirteen.

She hadn’t done anything wrong, or at least Ezra didn’t think she had.

Well, maybe it was the fact that she was born out of wedlock? Although, wouldn’t that be her parents’ sin- not hers?

Ezra tripped on a rock, righting herself, tensing for a brief moment, looking around, before walking more carefully- and then promptly getting lost in her thoughts once more.

Maybe it was because she hated her father? Daughters weren’t supposed to resent their dads, but she couldn’t help it. Still, that didn’t seem like a sin worth sending her to hell.

Maybe it was because she was a troubled child? She was always seeing things that other kids couldn’t see, men with just one eye, women with claws. Although, those were all her imagination working overtime, or at least that's what her step mother told her. Not to mention, she could hardly ever sit still. But that wasn’t her fault! The doctor said she had ADHD. Besides, her grades were still good, B+ was definitely passing!

Ezra didn’t know why she tried rationalizing the reasoning of her continued dreaming of this hellscape, because it always felt pointless. But, it was better than trying desperately not to think of it, and being disappointed each night as she dreamt of it again.

Her thoughts spiraled endlessly—until the dream itself interrupted her, and Ezra flinched hard at the sound of anguished screams.

Here, there was no time to think, there was only time to take another step forward, rocks digging into her slippers. From the corner of her eye, she noticed something, and she couldn’t help but glance over.

Ezra froze.

Standing there wasn’t a monster or a shadow, but rather a woman. She seemed older, maybe in her mid twenties or early thirties? She had the longest silky black hair, pale skin, and eyes that were so dark they weren’t just dark brown or black- they were the complete absence of light. Ezra stepped back.

She had never seen another person with eyes as dark as her own and even more horrifyingly, in the over seven years, three months and twenty-two days since she started having her nightmares no other person had ever inhabited them. Only monsters.

The woman reached out, her eyes strangely hollow and smile uncannily wide. “Don’t be afraid, little one,” she called out, wanting to ease the young girl's cautiousness. “I am your moth—”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Ezra awoke with a jolt, her hand slamming down against her alarm clock, heart beating in her chest like a drum. For a moment she closed her eyes and she swore that she was back there, in hell. With her mother, of all people.

Ezra knew Sarah wasn’t the best step mother, but why would her subconscious dream of her birth mother? A woman she had never known and, even more damningly, the woman who had left her.

Ezra shook her head slightly, glancing back down at her alarm clock. She had things to do, school to get to. There was no time to think of this new observation in her nightmares.

Although Ezra had never gotten used to the nightmares, she had gotten used to compartmentalizing them. So, she ignored her thoughts, pressed them deep down in her consciousness, and started her day.

She was careful to be quiet, getting dressed, using the restroom, pouring herself and her siblings cereal. Ezra’s father worked the night shift and was probably tired, while her step-mother was getting the twins ready, so most days Ezra made breakfast.

The twins were her annoying yet adorable half siblings. Amira and Ali were eight years old and didn’t quite know the concept of personal space yet, while also looking at their older sister with stars in their eyes. Although they grated on Ezra’s nerves they were also, possibly, the best part of her life.

She liked walking to school with the two of them in hand, and going to the park and playing with them. Even if they poked and pried and asked ‘why’ too many damn times in a row.

Ezra glanced up as Sarah entered the room, twins lagging behind her- both of them still half asleep despite being fully dressed. She ate another spoonful of cereal as she attempted not to laugh, before her eye caught on something.

There were slight bruises across Sarah’s wrist, and Ezra winced, knowing all too well what they felt like. She ducked her head and quickly ate her breakfast, grabbing her bag.

On the way she stopped in the bathroom, grabbing the arnica bruise cream from inside the cabinet, and quietly handing it to Sarah. The older woman sent her a grateful look, fond of the undeniably intelligent young girl.

“What’s that?” Ali asked, his chin propped on his hand, looking between his older sister and his mother with curiosity.

Ezra glanced between the bottle and Ali for a flicker of a moment before lying, “It’s moisturizer, now come on we have school.” The boy turned back to his cereal, wolfing it down, taking Ezra’s lie at face value.

Amira, already done with her breakfast, put her bowl in the sink and dutifully reached out to hold Ezra’s hand. When Ali was done, he did the same thing, and Ezra led both of the children out of their shabby apartment, and down to the streets of New York.

Ezra loved her city. It felt safe, in a way. She knew it was riddled with crime and homeless people on the streets and poverty, but she couldn’t help but feel comforted by the darkness.

It felt like the shadows were following around, wisping around her legs like fog, saying that they would never judge her. Not for her thoughts or feelings and certainly never for her actions.

Sometimes Ezra daydreamed that her father was dead. In a few of them, Ezra was the one killing him. She knew it wasn’t good to think these things, but she couldn’t help it.

The feeling of Ezra’s hand being tugged made her notice how tightly she was squeezing her younger siblings hands, and she apologized, “Sorry, sorry, my bad,” and relaxed her hold.

They were in front of the twins’ school, which, conveniently enough, was only a ten minute walk from their apartment.

“Have a good day at school, Mama will pick you up later, okay?” Ezra murmurs, kissing the top of her siblings heads, ushering them to their classroom. They waved goodbye, and Ezra turned on her heel, heading to her own school.

Being alone, now, made it much easier for Ezra to get lost in her thoughts, but it also made it easy for her to completely dissociate, and let her feet take her to her destination.

In no time at all, she was a block away from school, absently observing her surroundings but not really taking anything in. She could hear the sound of honking cars and people talking, but she wasn’t truly internalizing any of it. Ezra let her feet move on autopilot, and she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice the darkness flickering around her

That was until a rough hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the shadowy alley. Ezra inhaled sharply, wincing at the twinge of pain that lanced through her arm at the rough tug, and glanced at her assailant.

Ezra froze for a mere moment, because the thing in front of her was straight from her nightmares. In fact, it was identical. She had seen this exact same monster so many times that seeing it in the day made her feel like she was going insane.

Certainly it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

Chapter Text

Ezra couldn’t exactly ponder whether she was going mentally insane or had eaten something bad and was now seeing things, because the monster started speaking, its long talons digging into her skin.

“Mmm, how delicious you smell, halfling,” The creature cooed, its bird head tilting ever so slightly, feathers fluffing out. It was horrifying, with its large yellow eyes, pointed beak and yet, besides that, the creature looked like a regular woman.

Ezra instinctively flinched away feeling the hot breath of the half bird-woman against her skin, and how her wrist was beginning to ache.

“Let me go, you freak,” Ezra snapped, eyes narrowed. She’d never gotten mugged before, but maybe the woman was just wearing a bird mask to hide her face? And then Ezra noticed a feather twitch, and she shivered- no mask she’d seen moved like that.

However it wasn’t the strangest thing to happen in New York City; from grown men dressing in Spider-Man costumes and parkouring in the subway, to someone rolling themself up in a carpet and laying in the middle of the street.

The woman hissed, and Ezra shivered as the eyes of the bird mask(?) narrowed. “Foolish thing, I will enjoy eating you,” She growled, her other clawed hand grasping for Ezra's throat. Ezra gasped at the feeling of claws digging into her neck, and her hands scrambled to fight off the woman- but it was fruitless.

The hands tightened, even as Ezra tried pushing them away. She felt dizzy, her breathing uneven, unable to inhale with the pressure around her trachea. Her ears were ringing, her body was going weak.

For a moment, Ezra thought she would die.

Until suddenly, the pressure around her throat lessened, and Ezra’s eyes blinked open, only to see a jagged spike, black as a starless night and seeming to be made of solid shadow, piercing through the woman's chest. It hadn't been thrown, it had sprouted from the empty air right behind the monster.

Ezra glanced around, attempting to find the mysterious person that saved her, only to find herself alone, shivering, in a dark damp alleyway. The woman's body, which should have been bloody and horrifying, was instead a pile of golden ash that drifted away in the wind.

Ezra was also definitely late for school.

Ezra’s hands were shaking, yet her feet guided her to school- as though sitting in algebra class this early in the morning was the most important thing in the world. The words of her teacher chiding her for being late felt like buzzing in her ears, as she sat down and pulled out a notebook.

Ezra's heart was still pounding and her hands were still shaking. Students around her were whispering to each other, her teacher stood at the front of the classroom, but she simply couldn’t focus.

Her hands could hardly write, they were shaking so much, and she felt like she might start crying or screaming at any moment. But she couldn’t do that, she was in public, other people might see.

Instead she let her thoughts drift.

She had always thought she would die young, maybe from a car accident or a health issue. Not from a weird bird woman with a fetish for the flesh of young girls.

Things like that weren’t supposed to be real, they were regulated strictly to movies, TV shows and novels. Or even regulated to Ezra’s nightmares and imagination.

Ezra still wasn’t even sure that the woman was wearing a mask or maybe even a hallucination. Although, normal people didn’t fade into golden dust when they died. Their bodies decomposed, bloody and gross.

She jolted as the alarm bell rang, gathering her things, putting them in her bag, swallowing hard, when she suddenly realized- her throat hurt. It ached, where the bird woman had strangled her.

Ezra knew she had to go look in a mirror. As soon as she could get out of her next class, she did, practically running through the halls as she sped to the bathroom.

When she looked in a mirror, she saw it. The bruises mangling her throat- they weren’t faint, but they were hidden by the collar of her shirt, which she could only be grateful for. She had shown up to school with bruises enough times for her teachers to be suspicious, and she didn’t want this to add to it.

But for once, it hadn’t been her father. Ezra shook her head quietly, and instead let her fingers trace the injury, when she pressed against the bruises, it made her wince. But now, at least, she knew for certain that they were real. That monster was real.

But where could she get answers? The immediate answer was a library, but it would take too long to sift through books, and her school library didn’t have any computers. And it wasn’t like she could go to the library after school- she had to pick up her siblings after school.

Ezra sighed, and let her palms cover her face, giving the blissful illusion of darkness for a few moments. She would just have to go tomorrow, or maybe ask later. There was no way she could drag the twins with her to the library.

Ezra collected herself, slowly opening her eyes to the harsh lighting of the school bathroom, and then straightened. She would just focus on her classes, and then tonight, after dinner, she could think about what happened.

School was more important than her weird mugging. And her siblings were definitely more important. With that resolve set in stone, Ezra headed back to class.

She was usually a star student, although that was typically because she loved participating, and even more than that, her mind made connections so easily. Things came easily to her, and the praise she received from her teachers and even from Sarah only encouraged her.

So, classes sailed by like a breeze, and by the time the afternoon came she could almost forget the horrifying mugging that occurred this morning and instead focus on her homework and classes.

But the bruises on her throat didn’t disappear just because she stopped thinking about them, and she was reminded every time her voice accidentally slipped and became too hoarse, or her throat hurt when she swallowed.

Although, she was glad that when she went to pick up her siblings neither of them noticed. Instead, Ali and Amira rambled about their days, telling Ezra all about their friends and classes.

Ezra listened with a fond smile on her face, letting the two young kids cling onto their hands, and even (reluctantly) bought them a two dollar icee to share from one of the cart vendors.

When they finally got home, Ezra went to her room, and flopped down on the bed. She was glad she had her own room, as small as it was. The twins had to share with their parents; a bunk bed in the corner of the room, while Sarah and her father shared a queen bed. After a few moments of having her face buried in the comforter, slowly breathing, Ezra sat up and went to the kitchen- where Sarah was.

Ezra observed carefully, Sarah had just gotten back from her shift as a nurse. She worked from eight to four and got back home just in time to start cooking dinner. Usually, this meant Sarah was tired and that left Ezra to babysit but Sarah didn’t seem too annoyed.

So, Ezra decided to take a chance. “Can I go to the library?” She asked, looking up at Sarah, widening her eyes purposefully.

“Absolutely not!” Sarah huffed, turning around to face the young girl. “I’m making dinner and you need to be watching the twins!” The older woman's arab accent wasn’t strong, but when she was angry…well, that was a whole other ballpark.

“I can bring them with me, to the library, and we’ll come back home in time for dinner, I promise,” Ezra tried bartering.

Sarah’s glare shut up any of Ezra’s further arguments, and she scowled and turned on her heel, going to the living room. The twins were playing with their toys, and talking to one another, but their high pitched voices only annoyed Ezra further.

“Can you two be quieter?” Ezra asked, grumbling, “I need to do homework.” It took all of her willpower not to yell at them to shut up, but if she did do that she would be just as bad as Sarah- or even worse, her father.

Ali and Amira looked at her, eerily in sync, and both of them said, “Okay!” As though they’d planned it, and when they started giggling together, Ezra knew they had.

She rolled her eyes, and grabbed her backpack, tucking her knees to her chest, starting on her homework. But she couldn’t focus, her pencil was braced against the paper, yet all she could think about was what would have happened if she was dead.

Would Sarah have mourned? Would her father? How would they tell the twins that their older sister was dead? Ezra swallowed, and was suddenly intensely grateful that she had survived, if only so that her younger siblings didn’t learn what grief felt like.

Ezra breathed in deeply, and breathed out, forcing herself to focus on homework. This was due tomorrow, there was no time for her pity party. So, she did her homework, helped set the table, obediently ate dinner, and when her head finally hit the mattress, Ezra found she could not sleep.

No matter how much she twisted or turned, or how many sheep she counted she couldn’t. Ezra sighed deeply, glancing at her alarm clock. It was nearing one am, and all she could do was stare at the ceiling and try not to think.

Eventually, she closed her eyes, and cried, frustrated and helpless and scared all at once. Frustrated that she couldn’t sleep and she hadn’t gotten any answers, helpless because she didn’t know what was going on and scared because- what if it happened again?

What if next time she wasn’t so lucky?

Chapter Text

Ezra quietly cried herself to sleep, and worse of all, she ended back in her nightly dream. She wanted to scream, to tell the monsters to leave her alone, to be mad that the jagged rocks were digging into her slippered feet, to demand explanations from the empty air.

Ezra gritted her teeth, grabbing a sharp rock from the ground, “I hate this!” She huffed with frustration, throwing the rock into the darkness surrounding her.

“Poor darling, you must be so confused,” a smooth, cold voice behind her murmured. And Ezra felt her heart leap to her throat, as she turned around, tripping on her own feet. The woman didn’t do anything, she simply observed Ezra, as though she was a particularly fascinating insect.

“Who are you?” Ezra blurted out, before noticing strange things about the woman. The shadows here, they clung to her, and her smile- it wasn’t quite human. It landed right in that perfect uncanny valley, where Ezra knew something was wrong but she couldn’t point out what it was. “What- what are you?” Ezra continued.

“I am your mother, dear, just like I told you before, don’t you remember?” The woman asked, her voice sounding as old as papyrus or grecian columns. “I am Nyx, goddess of night and shadows, primordial before them all.”

Ezra thought she was going crazy. That must be the only explanation for this dream, right? She was delusionally trying to fill in the gaps a lack of mother figure had left her, and wanted to feel special, so here she was- dreaming of a god being her deadbeat mom.

“You’re not real, leave me alone,” Ezra mumbled, covering her hands with her ears, wanting to do nothing more than cry.

The woman only looked amused, “So naive,” Nyx purred. “I am not fake, I am the darkness that watched you grow up your whole life, little one.” It sounded almost loving, nurturing, but it was also just as equally possessive. As though Ezra was simply an extension of Nyx.

“I can’t hear you! You’re not real!” Ezra insisted, tears rising in her eyes, her jaw quivering ever so slightly. “You’re not real,” Ezra repeated, voice almost a sob, this time to herself.

Nyx sighed, amusement evaporating like mist, growing bored and irritated. Her smooth pale fingers reached out and gripped Ezra’s jaw, forcing the young girl's head up. “I am, and it would do you well not to live in denial,” the woman replied, simple and cold in its truth.

The most devastating thing was that Ezra could feel Nyx’s hand against her jaw, could feel cold fingers digging into skin. Ezra had always imagined her mother would touch her gently, hug her, soothe her, and then chided herself for being dumb and sentimental. It seemed she was right.

Ezra hesitantly unclasped her hands from her ears, and stood there frozen. She couldn’t deny it. Dreams didn’t feel this real, in normal dreams, nobody could feel rocks beneath them or hopelessness in the air and definitely not the touch of another person.

“What- I…If you’re real, then the thing from earlier was too,” Ezra started, cautious, careful, “What was it? Why did it attack me?”

“Such a smart girl, asking the right questions,” Nyx praised, smiling that creepy, inhuman smile. “A Harpy attacked you, it is a common monster, half bird and half woman. It, just as all monsters can, can smell your unique demigod scent- and wanted to eat you whole.”

The woman didn’t say it like it was horrifying, instead as though it was a simple fact, but Ezra felt like throwing up. Something would have eaten her decaying body, earlier today, if that jagged spike hadn’t stopped it.

“That- that shadow thing, from today, I- it was you?” Ezra asked, shivering, not because she was cold, but because fear was permeating her bones and she wanted to run and hide and keep pretending this was all fake.

“No, it was you, my brilliant daughter, inheriting my strengths,” Nyx cooed, almost like she was more proud of herself than she was her child. That Nyx was directly responsible for any good that Ezra did, any power that Ezra had.

“How could I have?” Ezra asked, she hadn’t felt anything except scared and desperate at that moment.

Nyx sighed, as though she was suffering through the questions of an insipid fool- although that might be how she saw Ezra’s questions. “I am your mother, you inherited some of my powers, simple as that,” Nyx explained, matter of factly.

“So I could…I could do that again, if I wanted to?” Ezra asked, imagining it. If her father raised his hand towards her, and instead a spike of pure darkness imbedded itself into his gut. Ezra automatically felt sick for thinking something so disgusting.

“Of course you can, little one, I can even teach you,” Nyx offered, a dark glint in her eyes, as though Ezra was doing and saying exactly what Nyx wanted.

On the one hand, Ezra didn’t trust her mother much, especially since she left Ezra. On the other hand, who else would teach her? What if she accidentally hurt Amira or Ali? Or herself?

Ezra hesitantly nodded, “Okay, you can teach me.”

Nyx smiled, and it was all teeth, sharp and insidious, “Perfect,” she cooed, and that was when Ezra woke up.

Chapter Text

The following morning was spent in a haze. Ezra got dressed and ready for school, but she felt distant, separated from her own body in a strange way.

Even while walking the twins to school, she could barely muster anything in response to their chatter besides small hums of agreement to show that she was listening. Even when she got to class, she hardly even raised her hand to say a thing.

Instead, she sat, staring into the distance, unsure what to think or to do. On the one hand, Nyx could be right, and Ezra was a demigod and she did have cool powers and horrifying monsters hunting her. On the other hand, everything could be explained by dreams and Ezra’s overactive imagination.

She didn’t know what to believe.

Ezra, after much deliberating, decided there was one definitive way to prove that the Greek gods were real, and demigods and monsters were too; testing her powers.

Not with Nyx looming over her shoulder- just by herself, in the regular human world. So, Ezra let school and dinner and life pass by her as she considered how she would get her powers to work.

Before, it was because she was terrified, but it wasn’t like she could replicate that feeling of fear- or well, she could, but she didn’t really feel like inciting her fathers anger.

Maybe there was some sort of other trigger? Ezra tried recalling the moment with the Harpy, repeating it in her head over and over again to try to spot it. Ezra jolted as she realized there had in fact been something. She had felt a tugging at her gut.

The whole day at school, in all of her classes, thoughts of her powers floated in the back of her mind no matter how much she focused.

So, when school was finally over, and Ezra was home, she headed straight to her room, and sat down on her bed.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured it. The shadows beneath her bed twisting upward, merging into a single sharp shape. A spike, like last time, blacker than night itself.

The air in her room thickened. When she opened her eyes, the spike hovered in front of her, dripping shadows like ink in water.

Ezra’s breath caught. Slowly, she reached out. Her fingers brushed the surface, smooth, cold, almost alive. The darkness pulsed once, as if acknowledging her touch, and a shiver ripped down her spine.

This confirmed it. Gods were real. Monsters were real. She was a demigod. Ezra flopped back against her bed, staring at the ceiling for just a few minutes.

“I’m a demigod,” The words left her in a shaky breath, barely audible. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and for a second she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or scream.

Ezra had always dreamed of being special, of having amazing powers, of being better than anyone who had ever tried to hurt her. But, she knew that was an unrealistic thought, and the characters in her favorite books and movies and TV shows lived miserable lives.

Would she, too, suffer that same fate?

Ezra breathed in shakily, blinking once, then twice. She suddenly felt lethargic, in a way. She was so tired. Tired of her stupid nightmares. Tired of her mother. Tired of monsters and gods and all of it. Tired of being scared and hopeless and uninformed.

She just wished someone would tell her everything, someone she could trust. But there wasn’t anyone like that at all.

Sure, Nyx promised to help her but Ezra would never trust the goddess. Nyx had abandoned Ezra once, who’s to say she wouldn’t do it again? And Ezra didn’t even know why Nyx wanted to train her- maybe the goddess’s intentions weren’t pure.

Ezra sighed, turning onto her side, closing her eyes tightly, shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

Her grip on the blanket loosened, breaths slowing until the room faded away, and when she opened her eyes next- it wasn’t to the popcorn ceiling of her small bedroom, but dark jagged stalactites.

Ezra sat up, and tensed. Here she was, back in hell. Or whatever the Greek godly equivalent of it was.

“Nyx?” Ezra called out, and when nothing happened she sighed, and called out, “Mom?” She didn’t consider Nyx a mother, but maybe it was better to be nice to the goddess, just to make sure the woman didn’t hurt her.

“Back again so soon, darling?” Nyx purred, appearing in front of her in a puff of smoke, that uncannily wide smile still on her primordial face.

Ezra nodded, her nails digging into her palm, “I- I wanted to ask some questions, please?” Her throat felt like sandpaper, but she forced the words out anyway. She glanced up at her mother, not hopeful (never hopeful), but determined.

The primordial hummed, amused at her fear. “Go ahead, little one.” Nyx’s wide dark eyes, looking directly down at Ezra.

“Are there other people like me? Demigods, I mean?” Ezra asked, wondering if she could maybe train with them- maybe they would have someone more trustworthy than Nyx to train her?

Nyx’s eyes narrowed, displeased, clearly. “Of course there are, but you won’t go near them- either of them,” Nyx snapped, darkness surrounding her, making her sharp features more pronounced.

Ezra tried her best not to flinch, but it was a losing battle, “Okay- I won’t, I promise I won’t, I was just, curious,” Ezra soothed.

“Hmm,” The primordial hummed, looking at Ezra like she was a pet that had disobeyed her. “There are two camps for demigods, Camp Half Blood for the Greeks in Long Island, and New Rome for the Roman demigods in San Francisco.”

“I thought the Greeks and Romans didn’t like each other?” Ezra asked, recalling a history lesson about ancient civilizations. She absently fidgeted with her sleeve, careful to observe Nyx’s expression for any sign of thinning patience.

“They don’t, the camps barely know each other, and when demigods do meet, they have the most delicious conflicts,” Nyx gleefully replied, and Ezra swore she could see the echoes of bloodshed in her dark eyes.

Ezra nodded, swallowing hard, her feet unconsciously shifting backwards. “Why- why are the camps here, if the gods live in Greece?” Ezra questioned.

Nyx sighed, rolling her eyes, mumbling something that sounded like ‘idiot child’ beneath her breath. “The gods follow wherever there is most power, first in Greece, then in Rome, then in Great Britain and now finally in America,” Nyx explained, like she was already tired of Ezra’s questions.

“Great, cool- uh, one more question, this is the last one, I promise.” Ezra replies, sensing her mothers ire, before asking, “Why doesn’t anyone in the news talk about monsters or demigods? Can’t they see them?”

“No, they can’t. There is a mist in place to ensure mortals cannot see us or our world. Now, are the insipid questions over, or may I begin our training?” Nyx hissed, truly irritated now.

Ezra flinched, her breath hitching as her shadow quivered along the floor like it might crawl away without her. “Yes, we can start,” Ezra replied, automatically, her shoulders so high they touched her ears.

“Wonderful,” Nyx replied, and the shadows around her coiled tighter, like something was about to happen. Ezra’s stomach twisted; she wasn’t sure if the woman was relieved her questions finally stopped—or if this was just the calm before the storm.

The primordial produced a steel sword from the depths of the shadows surrounding her, its metal tinged dark. “We will start with the sword, the most basic of demigod weapons,” Nyx informed her, her dark eyes glittering with malice.

Ezra hoped she survived this.

Chapter Text

Swinging a sword around was not as cool as the movies made it out to be.

First of all, swords were heavy as hell, and Ezra, who was unused to balancing something that weighed like a small anvil, often swung too wildly or even tripped over her own feet.

Secondly, Ezra had to grip it just right- if she gripped it too tight, her hands would ache with callouses (even after she woke up and was no longer in the dream) and if her grip was too slack the sword would fall right out of her hand.

Third, Ezra had to learn not to stand stiffly, like she was walking to her deathbed, and instead with her knees slightly bent and her arms apart.

Worst of all? Nyx. A brilliant duelist, sure, but an absolutely atrocious instructor. Tonight was no exception.

Ezra was standing in the middle of the rocky terrain, Nyx to the side observing her. They were doing what Ezra had quickly deemed her least favorite drill, circle and strike.

Ezra stood on guard, practice sword in her hand, point angled slightly upward. One of Nyx’s shadow puppets was in front of her, acting as a dummy. Ezra was forced to step forward to the left with her right foot, then reset her back foot, then slash horizontally.

And every time she failed, or her foot wasn’t perfectly aligned, or her slash didn’t hit the dummy properly, Nyx’s irritating, grating voice rang in her ear. “Fix that, unless you’d rather be dead,” became a commonly heard phrase.

Ezra knew it was foolish to want any praise, but god dammit six weeks ago she hadn’t even glanced at a real sword in her life. Now, she could do numerous basic moves and her footwork was consistent, and she could do the drills by memory.

She had even taken to practicing with her sword in real life too, typically in her bedroom. It was a ‘gift’ that Nyx had given her, a small bracelet with a sword charm on it.

Sure, maybe she sometimes tripped over her own two feet, or her arms or legs ached with exhaustion and she had to sit down, or she forgot what the different moves were called- but it was still leaps and bounds of progress!

Even Sarah had noticed something was different about her, commenting how she seemed more tired than usual, which was true. When Ezra woke in the mornings after intense training sessions, instead of feeling refreshed from sleep, she felt the ache of stinging limbs.

Yesterday, she had been climbing a flight of stairs, and her legs had started shaking because of how sore they were. And, even worse, the Harpy attack wasn’t a one off. Now, Ezra was constantly seeing monsters, and therefore had to constantly be on guard.

It was fine though, because no matter how many times she had messed up at sword training- the shadows always felt natural, even welcoming.

“Focus,” Nyx’s clear voice rang out, and Ezra flinched, her eyes opening. At least training her powers was going much better than weapons training.

Here, Ezra just had to close her eyes and imagine- and one thing about Ezra was she sure as hell could get creative.

“Sorry, mother,” Ezra apologized, refocusing on her objective. Nyx had told her to imagine her shadows in the shape of a creature, any creature, although Ezra was sure Nyx intended Ezra to create something deadly.

So far, Ezra had replicated creating shadow spikes so many times it was muscle memory, and then shielding herself and hiding herself with shadows came after, and now finally creating things out of shadows.

Ezra thought of tearing and ripping, creatures with sharp teeth stained with blood, something protective and feral and a bit too similar to herself. And, when she opened her eyes, there it was.

A creature of pure darkness, its limbs floating and billowy, melting into the shadows. Ezra didn’t know what compelled her to reach out a hand to it, but she did, and instead of biting and tearing, it obediently nuzzled her palm, the shadows crawling up her fingers as though they ached to be closer to her.

“I asked for a creature, not a pet,” Nyx sneered, her own hand reaching out to the shadow, intent on dissipating it. The creature bared its teeth, and nipped at the goddesses fingers, even as it slowly faded away.

Ezra watched, half horrified, half enraptured, as Nyx’s finger tip shone with golden blood.

Nyx looked down to her index finger and murmured, “Perhaps there is hope for you, yet,” as though violence was something to be approved of.

Ezra let out a soft breath of relief.

Chapter Text

Ezra had never been outside of New York City, but she would happily claim that New York heat was the worst out of the bunch. It was muggy and humid in the worst way, making the fabric of her clothes stick to her skin.

Even worse was the sound of kids screaming and yelling that permeated through the park, and how the metal bench she was sitting on had absorbed so much sunlight that Ezra felt like she was burning alive.

She groaned quietly and sat up, glancing over to make sure Ali and Amira were still safely playing, before deciding to get the three of them ice cream- surely that would cool her down at least a little in the heat.

Ezra winced as she got up, her body aching from Nyx’s brutal training, and last night’s dinner. One word about her posture from her father and she’d been slammed back into her chair hard enough to leave her spine throbbing.

Ezra couldn’t even lay on her back and stare at the ceiling like she always did before going to sleep, every brush against her spine sending twinges of pain all throughout her body.

Now, there were bruises all along Ezra’s back. Add the fact that her ribs were aching from training and her hands had callouses all over them- she knew that today was going to be miserable no matter what she did.

Ezra huffed quietly, and shook her head, attempting to focus on walking when she heard a soft mewl, and automatically turned her head towards the sound.

Sitting on the dirty asphalt was a perfectly black cat, with the prettiest green eyes Ezra had ever seen. Ezra immediately brightened, but was careful not to overreact- not wanting to scare the kitty.

Instead, she kneeled down, hissing a little at the movement, and cooed softly at the cat, making little ‘pspspsps’ sounds, trying to tempt it to come closer, but the cat stayed laying on the hot ground.

Ezra glanced around, there was a convenience store nearby, and although it probably didn’t have the best quality cat food- it was better than nothing, so Ezra got up, wincing when her knees cracked, and walked over.

She quickly grabbed a can of food, and a water bottle, heading quickly back towards the cat. She stayed a cautious few feet away, but still opened the can, gently nudging it closer to the cat, and poured the water into a small plastic bowl.

Strangely enough, the cat only barely moved, weakly licking at the can of food. That was when Ezra noticed how rapid the cat's breathing was and the drool leaking from the side of its mouth.

She hesitantly walked closer, and when the cat didn’t move, she sat down next to it. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” Ezra gently cooed, using her softest voice- mostly reserved for Ali and Amira.

The cat, obviously, didn’t reply, but Ezra gently brought the water and food closer anyway. She smiled when the cat lifted its head, only for the smile to fall away, when it immediately laid back down.

What was wrong with it? Was it sick? Was it overheating? Was it starving? Ezra fretted in her mind, going over dozens of scenarios, before gently reaching out to the fluffy black cat, petting its fur, only to find that it wasn’t moving anymore.

Ezra panicked, picking up the cat’s head, and when it didn’t react, she touched its paw- it couldn’t be sleeping, if it was sleeping it would have reacted by now.

Ezra breathed in sharply, and knew that the cat was dead. She looked at it for a few moments, horrified, frozen, before reaching out her hands.

Nyx hadn’t taught Ezra much about her necromancy skills yet, but Ezra knew she might inherit them from Nyx- so maybe this could be her trial run.

Ezra inhaled deeply, and imagined the cat, alive and whole, its fur still matted, and still skinny- but at least breathing and moving. It would drink from the plastic water bowl, and eat the cat food. Maybe it would scratch Ezra when she got too close, or maybe it would nuzzle at her palm, although it hardly mattered what it did as long as it did something.

As long as it was alive, Ezra could still help it. Maybe over time it would warm to her, after she continued to buy cat food for it from the store.

Ezra felt the tugging at her gut, darkness pooling at her fingers, and she knew that her powers were working. She felt a smug smirk rise to her lips- it had worked.

However, when she opened her eyes she was horrified.

The cat, undead, having no need for water or food, sat obediently near Ezra. The beautiful green eyes she had noticed before had dissipated and what was left in their wake was milky white irises.

Ezra backed away, her fingers unintentionally gripping the sword charm on her bracelet, and began shaking as the cat followed her. It smelled worse than it looked, sweet and sickly all at once- rotten flesh singing her nostrils. And even the sound of it moving was unsettling, wet little pops as bone grinded against one another, forced to move all because Ezra was too naive to let dead things rest.

She closed her eyes tightly and quietly hoped that it would die once more- because anything was better than this; a flesh puppet at Ezra’s beck and call, a loyal pet with vacant eyes.

“Go away- stop,” Ezra shakily murmured into the quiet street, and when she opened her eyes once more, gone was the all too fluid undead cat, and in its place a body.

Ezra turned on her heel, holding in her vomit as she speed walked to the ice cream truck- trying desperately to take her mind off that- thing. Her voice shook when she ordered the sweet treats, and despite the pain her body was experiencing, she practically ran back to the park.

Ezra found the twins, hastily shoving the ice cream into their hands, not even taking a second to smile at the happiness on their faces.

All she could think about, every single time she blinked or even in the corner of her eyes was the undead cat- something she couldn’t save even if she tried.

Ezra's stomach turned. What was the point of having these mythological powers, if it couldn’t help when she needed it? Or more importantly, when other people needed it?

Chapter Text

The rest of the summer passed in a haze, most days Ezra spent at the park or the library, oftentimes with her siblings in tow. At nights she trained with Nyx, and in the days she carefully avoided her fathers ire.

However, Ezra could hardly think about that now- with nerves rising in her stomach, as she stood outside the intimidatingly large building. ‘Brooklyn School Of Humanities’ was a four story building, teeming with teenagers.

And Ezra was about to be one of them. You may argue that after fighting monsters and getting trained by her kind of psychotic mother, high school would be nothing- but that hardly made Ezra’s anxieties go away.

Ezra shifted on her feet and winced as that made her backpack straps dig into her shoulders, which were already sore from training and from a stray Empousa that had cornered her this morning.

She sighed, steeling herself, before forcing her feet to move, following the other freshman, probably just as nervous as her. Ezra grabbed her schedule and metrocard as quickly as she could, before trying to find her first class of the day. She only got lost once before she made it to the classroom, which was a win in her book.

Although, she could hardly be blamed for that. The hallways were so crowded, filled with teachers shouting instructions, and the sound of slamming lockers and people moving about.

When she sat down, she noticed that nearly everyone was already talking to each other, making friends or acquaintances. Ezra grimaced, sure, she could hold a conversation like anybody, even be charming when she tried hard enough- but apprehension made it hard to do much of anything.

She was saved from deliberating much further by the feeling of someone tapping on her shoulder, and so, Ezra turned around, trying to look friendly and polite.

“Hi, I’m Aurora, are you also a freshman?” The girl asked, and Ezra couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was, golden blonde hair running down her back, and hazel eyes that shifted from brown to green.

Ezra quickly averted her eyes, chiding herself for being a creep. “Yeah, I’m Ezra,” She awkwardly replied, trying her best to be casual, but utterly failing. Ezra wanted to slam her head into the desk, what kind of response was that?

“Nice to meet you.” Aurora glanced at her schedule, “Um, what class do you have next?”

“Geometry in uh-” Ezra glanced at her schedule, “Room 2N5”

“Oh! I have the same class,” Aurora chirped, and her enthusiasm was so infectious, Ezra had to fight not to smile back at her.

“Great,” Ezra dryly replied, before internally cursing herself, that was so rude- what if Aurora thought Ezra hated her? Or that Ezra was a bitch? Or-

Her spiraling thoughts were cut off by the sight of Aurora laughing, and she looked at the other girl, eyes wide.

Maybe high school wouldn’t be the worst. Probably.

Weeks slipped by, and slowly she got used to high school, slowly adjusting to her schedule, even tentatively making a few friends.

Ezra was even getting used to her nightmares, nowadays. They were still horrifying and she was still cautious and training still kicked her ass, but she was improving!

Even if Nyx didn’t say a thing about it.

Ezra cursed under her breath. The shadow dummy swung its sword at her, the metal blade piercing through the air, forcing Ezra out of her thoughts and making her go on the defensive.

She pulled into a smooth counter parry, lifting her sword, twisting her wrist. The point of her blade moved in a circular motion, pushing the dummy’s blade to the side, before Ezra thrust out her sword in a riposte.

The stygian iron cut through the shadows like butter, and the shadow dummy, although it couldn’t actually die, kneeled on the floor in defeat.

Ezra was panting as she glanced at Nyx, waiting for the primordial to say something. “Acceptable,” Nyx’s cold voice drawled before adding on. “You hesitated. If you had been just a bit slower, my shadows would have split you clean in half.”

Ezra resisted the urge to scowl, instead replying, “Yes, mother,” and lightly kicking the ground, making tiny pieces of obsidian gravel kick up into the air.

“Again.” Nyx demanded, and another dummy formed. Ezra sighed, but got into position, irritation simmering beneath her skin. She’d show her mother acceptable.

The training continued, just as it did every night, and when Ezra woke up the next morning her body felt like lead, and each attempt to move only made her limbs feel heavier.

But, she had to go to school- today was the club fair, and Ezra had promised Aurora that she would go with her. Although it was a miracle that she had gotten permission from Sarah in the first place.

So, Ezra dragged herself out of bed, got dressed, and made breakfast for herself and her siblings, just like she did everyday. Because even if everything felt different, the world kept spinning and she had to keep moving alongside it.

Ezra dutifully dropped her siblings off at school, went to her classes, participated, did her homework during lunch, and even attended the stupid fair.

Although, it wasn’t terrible, but maybe that was just because Aurora insisted on holding her hand, so they wouldn’t get separated amongst the hoards of students.

Sure, Ezra commonly held hands with her siblings and Ezra had brief memories of holding Sarah’s hand when she was younger, but this was completely different. Aurora’s hand was warm, and soft. It completely contrasted with Ezra’s cold and calloused ones, but she found she liked it.

And maybe, just maybe, Ezra had signed up for debate club just because Aurora signed up first, but she’d deny it if anyone asked.

Chapter Text

Debate club, as it turned out, was extremely boring. Especially since Ezra had been assigned the role of alternate. So, while she practiced after school with everyone, and learned all the arguments- she hardly ever got to do anything.

The only bright part about it, was that it gave Ezra more time with Aurora. They would sit together, sometimes passing notes or whispering amongst each other, sometimes heading out for pizza after clubs.

Most days, after finding out she was a demigod, Ezra had to fight off some sort of monster before heading to school. Fortunately enough, after clubs with Aurora, monsters typically didn’t attack Ezra. Perhaps Aurora was simply too bright and optimistic a person for them to show their faces around. Whatever the reason was, Ezra was simply glad that her demigod life had not been revealed to Aurora.

Today was Wednesday, so Ezra waited for Aurora outside her last class of the day, so they could walk to the debate club room together. As students finally finished pouring out of the classroom, Ezra spotted Aurora, and couldn’t help the slight upturn to her lips.

“Hey, how were classes?” Ezra asked, carefully entwining her hand with Aurora’s, a new thing that had become the norm between the two of them.

“They were good,” Aurora replied, a bit dimmer than usual, and Ezra’s eyes narrowed, observing the other girl.

Ezra asked, “What happened?” Clearly noting that something was off. Aurora huffed, and sent the other girl a small look, which Ezra privately thought was adorable. In comparison to Nyx or even Ezra’s father, Aurora glared like a puppy.

When Ezra didn’t relent, and instead continued to look at Aurora expectantly, the girl sighed and mumbled, “I just, don’t feel like going to debate club right now.”

“Why not?” Ezra raised her brow, looking at her friend. Aurora was the one that insisted on joining debate club in the first place, and had been ecstatic when they began attending it.

Aurora shrugged, shifting on her feet, causing them to squeak against the linoleum. Ezra tugged on Aurora’s hand, gentle but insistent. “C’mon, tell me, aren’t I your best friend?” Ezra murmured.

“I just…the debate coach is kind of creepy, don’t you think?” Aurora hesitantly replied, her shoulders slightly tense.

“Did he do something?” Ezra scowled and, unintentionally, the shadows gathered closer, making Ezra look darker, intimidating.

Aurora swallowed, averting her eyes before admitting. “It- It’s not that bad. He just touches my shoulders sometimes. I’m probably being dramatic, he’s just trying to be friendly-”

“That’s not fucking friendly, he shouldn’t touch you if you’re uncomfortable,” Ezra hissed, her eyes looking exactly like her mothers- dark and cold. Ezra wanted to stab the man with her sword. Instead she simply clenched her fists, her thumb brushing against the sword charm on her bracelet, and forced herself to loosen her shoulders.

Ezra glanced back at Aurora, and noticed that the other girl was shivering, probably because the hallway was definitely getting darker and colder- a result of Ezra’s rage.

Ezra breathed in deeply, trying to calm down, before focusing. She couldn’t let that pervert touch Aurora again, but Ezra didn’t want Aurora to lose something she loved doing just because he was there.

“How about, today, we skip debate and next Wednesday- we’ll talk to him, you can tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable and to stop. And if he doesn’t, well, then we can go to other people about it.” Ezra offered, using her special gentle voice.

“Okay, but only if he escalates a lot. I don’t want to get him in trouble for nothing,” Aurora insisted, squeezing Ezra’s hand, which was still entwined with hers.

“Fine,” Ezra agreed, nodding, her words ringing out like the banging of a gavel. Ezra would ensure that man would get what was coming to him, no matter what.

Next week, they did exactly that. Ezra stood outside the debate coaches door, cautious and guarded as a knight, while Aurora talked to him. She had tried to come inside with Aurora, but the other girl thought that was ‘too confrontational.’

So, here Ezra was, shifting from foot to foot, playing the agonizing waiting game. The hallway was too quiet, fluorescent lighting harsh against linoleum tiles. Ezra had the urge to barge into the room, and drag Aurora out, but she knew that would be rash.

Finally, the door creaked open, and Ezra immediately straightened, glancing at Aurora. The girl seemed….fine? Sure, she looked a little nervous, maybe slightly relieved, but also unsure.

Ezra didn’t know what to make of it, so instead she glanced at the coach, noting that he seemed pleased. “Everything worked out?” Ezra asked, voice flat, cold as ice.

Aurora nodded, fiddling with her sleeve, “Yeah, we talked.” Ezra’s eyes narrowed, as though those few words would give her any more insight.

The coach cleared his throat, glancing at Ezra. “Just a misunderstanding,” he said lightly. “I didn’t realize my behavior was making Ms. Vale uncomfortable, for that, I sincerely apologize.”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed, mistrusting. “And it won’t happen again,” she said- not a question, but a warning disguised as a statement. Her shadows drew closer to her, making her eyes appear sharper. They wrapped around her legs, looking like slithering snakes- ready to attack at a moment's notice.

The man's smile faltered for a mere moment, before he cleared his throat and nodded, “Of course not.” Aurora grabbed Ezra’s hand, pulling at it gently, as though telling her nonverbally to just leave it alone.

Ezra hummed in response, cool and aloof, before turning on her heel, walking away with Aurora in tow.

She didn’t trust that man one bit.

Ezra held Aurora’s hand tightly as they walked in tow to the train station. The air between them was filled with a tension neither of them wanted to pop, but Ezra decided to just get it over with.

“Was he telling the truth?” She asked, and her voice came out harsher than intended.

Aurora hesitated for a moment, and made a so-so gesture with her hand. “I think he meant it, but…he still kind of makes me scared,” Aurora admitted, biting her lip.

Ezra blinked, glancing at the other girl, jaw tightening. “Then I’ll keep an eye on him.” She promised, her voice quiet but lethal. Ezra would make sure Aurora was safe, no matter what.

Aurora smiled, maybe not as bright as her usual ones, but it was better than her previous anxious expression, which made Ezra soften.

“Thanks, Ez,” Aurora whispers, her hand reached out, hesitating for a few moments before she tentatively pulled the other girl into a hug.

Ezra froze for a moment, her heart beating out of her chest. She had only ever hugged her younger siblings before, and even that was rare. Sarah certainly never hugged her, and the idea of her father hugging her was laughable.

She swallowed hard, and hesitantly, carefully, brought up her hands to rest against Aurora’s back, stiff and unsure. Ezra couldn’t help but lean into Aurora’s touch, feeling safe and warm in a way she had never felt before.

Eventually, she grew embarrassed and pulled away.

“We should uh- head down,” Ezra awkwardly mumbled, gesturing to the stairs down into the train station. Ezra’s cheeks felt hot, and her stomach was in knots- what the hell was wrong with her?

Aurora grinned, “Yeah, let's go,” she agreed, squeezing Ezra’s hand.

Throughout the whole way back home, Ezra’s mind lingered on the hug- even when Aurora teased her and joked with her, Ezra could only muster up half-witted replies.

Even when Ezra got home, she could barely focus on her homework, or the twins, or Sarah. Not even her father managed to dim the warm feeling in her chest.

Ezra groaned, flopping down on her bed, burying her face in the pillow, recalling that moment from hours ago. Aurora had smelt sweet and floral, and she had been so warm, and comforting. Ezra found she wanted to hug Aurora again, or possibly stay within the other girl's reach for the rest of her life.

Was this what being loved felt like? Ezra’s father didn’t love her, and Nyx also wasn’t exactly the maternal type. Sarah, maybe, but she was so busy that Ezra hardly ever spoke to her. Ezra loved Ali and Amira, and they loved her, but they couldn’t protect her or care for her like that.

Maybe Ezra loved Aurora like a sister? The saying was ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.’ But that didn’t feel right either. If Ezra loved Aurora like a sister, then why did Aurora make her heart beat so fast, and make her blush?

The only logical conclusion was that Ezra had a crush.

The warmth faded as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold pit in her stomach. What if Aurora didn’t feel the same? What if she found out and hated her for it? Everyone hated people like that—didn’t they?

Ezra knew exactly how her father and Sarah felt about gay people, at the very least. They called them disgusting, or gross, and insisted that it was against God's will.

It wasn’t even legal yet for two girls to get married. Well, technically, it was in New York City, but not everywhere.

Ezra huffed, staring at the ceiling, willing away the stinging in her eyes. Maybe her father was right all along, and justified in her hatred for her.

She was a freak.

Ezra’s ADHD, her strange powers and now her attraction towards other girls just proved it.

Chapter Text

Ezra, eventually, decided to table thoughts of crushes and romance, she was only fourteen after all. Besides, she could hardly spend time thinking of it when her dream training was increasing in difficulty and complexity every day.

Nyx was relentless in her training. Ezra had learned how to make literally anything out of her shadows and then how to summon the dead, whether that be spirits or skeletons, and now, they were moving onto poisons.

Of course, to test poisons you usually needed a test subject- and shadow dummies just weren’t going to cut it.

So, there Ezra stood, face to face with a monster. In fact, it was one she recognized after months of being attacked by monsters. The same dracaenae that had nearly gutted her back in October. Seeing it again sent a cold rush of memory down her spine: the sting of its blade, the taste of blood in her mouth.

“Begin,” Nyx intoned, clearly having gotten impatient with Ezra’s inaction. The dracaenae, having no such inhibitions, struck like lightning, fangs snapping inches from Ezra’s face. She stumbled back, heart hammering in her throat, fumbling for the charm on her bracelet.

The charm, once pulled on, elongated into a stygian iron sword, its dark metal shining in the dim lighting. She was breathing hard, and she had to remind herself to focus.

The dracaenae lunged again, and this time Ezra slashed her sword forward, creating a gash in the monster's stomach, golden ash falling out of it. The air chilled as her panic bled into the darkness at her feet. The shadows stirred, restless, sensing her fear, wrapping around her legs like living things. They slithered up her arms, whispering in her mind: strike, tear, kill.

Ezra imagined the very venom of the dracaenae being turned against her, shadows twisting and writhing as serpents, claws and sharp teeth digging into monster flesh.

And, without any warning, the dracaenae convulsed, a strangled hiss ripping from its throat as smoke poured from its scales. The stench of venom and burning flesh clawed at Ezra’s nose. It writhed on the ground, tail thrashing, golden ichor bubbling between its teeth. Ezra couldn’t look away, even when it shrieked, even when its body collapsed into a heap of golden ash.

Ezra’s hands trembled so badly she almost dropped her sword. Her head throbbed, her pulse a drumbeat in her ears. She couldn’t tell if the pounding came from the monster’s screams, or for the way her body ached with exhaustion.

“Good,” Nyx’s cold imperious voice called, that same uncanny smile on the primordial face. “Ezra barely had time to catch her breath before another snap of Nyx’s fingers made the shadows ripple. A new shape appeared, an empousa, bound and snarling. Ezra’s stomach sank

“To this one, you will make it feel fear,” Nyx commanded, her black eyes watching Ezra.

Ezra turned around, confused, “I thought I was just using my powers today?” She asked, brows furrowing.

Nyx glowered, “I am Mother of The Night, all of the gods of Tartarus are of my brood, there is no frightening thing on this earth that I cannot control.”

Ezra swallowed, turning back to the monster. She imagined its mind, probably dark and bitter, overcome with the sensation of true fear for the first time. To the absolute and unnerving certainty that Ezra would kill it, in a painful and brutal way.

A headache rose in Ezra’s temple, and she winced, but forced herself to continue. She thought of the empousa, imagining how Ezra would kill it, and when she opened her eyes the empousa was wide eyed, fearful, attempting to back up in the ropes it was wrapped up in.

Nyx smiled, all too wide and sharklike. “Don’t you feel it? How easy it is to make something hurt? This is your birthright, little one,” Nyx cooed, her eyes dark and mad.

Ezra just felt sick to her stomach. The worst part about it, besides the headache pounding behind her skull, was the rush of power that buzzed in her veins.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t abnormal to hear the sharp accented sounds of her fathers quick temper, his yells making the apartment feel small because his rage took up so much of it.

It was, however, rare that the twins were victims of it. Maybe it was because they were too young, or they were the product of his actual marriage, but whatever the reasoning was he was softer on them.

Today, however, he was yelling at them, spittle flying out of his mouth, tan skin tinged red, his shoulders drawn up. Ezra could hardly recall what he was snapping at them for, but she knew she had to do something.

Usually, she would speak in defense of her siblings, therefore redirecting his ire towards her. But Ezra’s mind insidiously wandered, going towards her powers. She hadn’t used them on anyone yet besides monsters.

And sure, her father might be human, but he certainly acted like a monster. Besides, speaking never lessened his fury, it only turned his rage onto Ezra. So, Ezra felt justified when she let herself get lost in that sharp rush of power.

Ezra felt his mind, twisted and lost with rage, tired and irrational. She let shadows crawl around in it, feeling his feelings, trying to mitigate them. Her skin prickled with cold, shadows lancing around her ankles, curious. Ezra flinched when the only thing that happened was her fathers voice increasing in volume.

She tried again, thinking of calm things, soothing things. The breeze going through the leaves, steady breathing, kind words. Ezra blinked in surprise when her father stopped for a moment, in fact, she could feel Sarah sharply inhale, and for a moment, they were all hopeful.

And then, he continued shouting.

Ezra clenched her jaw. She knew, logically, that it would be harder to incite someone's rage or their fear, instead of decreasing it- that was just human nature. It was easy to be mad, it was harder to be kind, but she couldn’t help but once again feel frustrated at how useless her powers were.

Her gaze flickered towards Ali, tears running down his cheeks, gripping his fork in his hands, scared out of his mind, and Ezra couldn’t stay quiet.

“Stop yelling at him, can’t you see he’s already learned his lesson?” Ezra hissed at her father, forcing herself to straighten her back and look into his eyes.

Abdul Saad wasn’t the most muscular or tall or intimidating man, but when he turned his rage onto Ezra, she felt all her muscles tense up. “Maybe you need to learn a lesson too, then, if you think you know better than your father,” He spat.

“I kept you even after your mother left you with me, I fed you and clothed you and paid for the roof over our heads and you still treat me this way?” He snarled, stepping towards her, and Ezra tried hard not to flinch.

Ezra bit her tongue, knowing she didn’t have an argument for that. She could say that living on the streets would be better than putting up with him, or claim that his money meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, but he wouldn’t care.

To him, Ezra was a drain on his already limited money and he would be glad to get rid of her if she gave him enough of a reason to.

“What? You have nothing to say now?” Her father yanked her arm, making her hiss with pain, her shoulder making a sharp cracking sound. Ezra knew it wasn’t broken, but pain still burned through her, and her hand automatically went to cradle her arm.

“The only thing I can say is that you’re a shitty father,” Ezra sneered before she could stop herself, and she braced for what she knew was coming.

She heard the sound first before she felt it, the slap of a hand against her cheek. The force of the impact of his hand forced her backwards, and her face ached for a few moments.

Nobody did a thing, because really what could they do? Ali and Amira were only nine years old, and her step mother knew better than to interfere- lest she get hurt too.

Ezra heard her father mutter beneath his breath “Disrespectful wretch,” and saw him turn on his heel, his anger briefly satisfied by her hurt. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry, but the instinct still rose within her chest, so she forced herself to duck her head, hair falling forward to cover her face.

When the door to her father’s bedroom finally slammed shut, Sarah walked towards her. “You know better than that,” the older woman muttered, but it was more melancholy than chiding. Sarah sounded tired, and Ezra knew she was, after a long shift at work, coming home to cook and clean, and then deal with a husband like that- of course she was.

Ezra glanced up as Sarah’s hand gently lifted up her jaw poking gently where he had hit her, before checking her arm, and Ezra was belatedly grateful that Sarah was a nurse. “I’ll get you some ice, and then you can go to your room,” Sarah murmured, shuffling to the kitchen.

The twins were still in their seats, but Ali let go of his fork, and rushed towards her, burying his face in her stomach, and Ezra blinked hard, trying not to cry. “Hey, hey, you’re alright,” She whispered, kneeling down in front of the young boy, hugging him close. “I’ve got you, you know I always do.” And she did, Ezra would always keep her siblings safe, or at least try her hardest to do so, even if she occasionally failed, like today.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t- Ez- I-” The young boy stuttered out between heartbreaking sobs, clearly guilty.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ezra gently rocked him in her arms, while Amira stood by, unsure what to do, except stay close. Ezra’s eyes flicked back up as Sarah came back to the room, handing Ezra the icepack, before carefully taking her son from Ezra’s arms.

Ezra stood and tried to slow her steps, but it still felt like she was fleeing to the relative peace of her room.

Ezra let the ice pack fall onto her sidetable, burying her face in her hands, breathing hard. Her jaw quivered with the effort it took to hold back tears, and she felt the shadows wrapping around her. They were cold, but comforting, safe in a way home never truly was.

She was laying on her side, legs tucked up, comforter wrapped around her body. Sure, Ezra was hurt, and bitter and miserable but she was also so fucking furious it grated on her soul. Ezra wished she could hurt her father back, she wished he would just stop being so horrible for one second, she wished he didn’t exist.

Ezra could do those things now, she could, hypothetically, make him disappear, could get rid of him- but then, wouldn’t that just make every horrible thing that ever happened to her justified?

Of course she dreamt of hell every night, of course her father hit her, of course she struggled because she was a murderer and a terrible person and god knew it and so that was why he wrote this life for her.

Ezra breathed out shakily, forcing herself not to think, because if she kept thinking she knew she would break down.

And that was how she fell asleep that night, hollow and bitter and empty. Except, instead of her regular dreams of Tartarus, the image in her mind flickered.

There was no Nyx, or makeshift training arena or anything else, instead there was a huge grassy hill. She could feel individual blades of it beneath her slippered feet, and the smell of petrichor in the air.

Ezra’s brows furrowed, and she turned around, looking to her left. Her eyes widened with surprise. There, in chipped painted letters, was a wooden sign that read, ‘Camp Half Blood.’

Chapter Text

Ezra’s first thought was that the camp was beautiful. Sprawling strawberry fields were at the front, wooden cabins with intricate details, a gorgeous clear blue lake with rivers going through it and a lush forest.

Ezra could even look up and see the stars in the sky. Unlike in the city, where skyscrapers stood tall, and the sky was always foggy. Helicopters, pollution and lights making it impossible to see the galaxy right above them.

Ezra jolted when she heard a screeching sound, and she immediately turned towards the sound, looking up. There they were, three women, leathery wings stretched out behind them, long talons, sharpened like knives, and whips in their hands. Ezra couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but she could hear how grating and sharp their voices were.

When Ezra looked down, her heart stopped. If the three women weren’t terrifying enough, there were more monsters alongside them. Hellhounds, their dark coats sleek and shadowy, eyes red with malice, not one, not two, not even three, but five of them- a whole pack. And then behind them, the hulking hands and feet of a giant cyclops, it’s one eye beady and focused completely on three figures standing near the hilltop.

Ezra stepped away from her spot at the side of the hill, shivering as she saw raindrops sliding past her, going through her as though she didn’t exist. She had to help them- the three demigods were ruthlessly outnumbered, but Ezra couldn’t do that without at least analyzing the situation first.

There was a boy and a girl that seemed to be the same age as Ezra, the girl with dark hair and a determined stance and the boy with lighter sandy blonde hair. The dark haired girl was holding a shield crackling with electricity, and with a terrifying image etched onto it- although Ezra couldn't quite make it out. The boy was holding a….metal base ball bat? Although, the metal gleaned with power, a sign of a celestial ore.

Finally, and most heartbreakingly, there was a much younger girl. She was almost the same height as Ali, but her limbs were thinner. She was bruised and bloody, holding a dagger that looked big in her small hands- yet she was undeniably skilled with it. Ezra was terrified by the thought of her half siblings, only nine years old, being in the same position.

She directed her gaze back at the monsters, assessing the situation, pulling out her sword, carefully waiting until one of the hellhounds' backs was turned, and slashing forward.

But her sword merely went through it, as though it was an illusion. Ezra froze in confusion, usually when she attacked monsters in her dreams with Nyx, they died. But, usually Ezra could also feel the rest of the dream.

In this one, sure she could see and smell the grass beneath her feet or the rain puttering down on the ground, but she didn’t truly feel it. Ezra had just disillusioned herself into believing she could.

Ezra scowled, frustrated and worried, turning her gaze back onto the group of three demigods. It was nauseating, to sit there and watch, hoping that they would prevail- that someone would come to help, knowing she couldn’t do anything.

She watched as the dark haired girl called out to her companions, “Go! They want me, not you. Get to camp, I’ll- I can handle it.” It was a clear lie, and both of her friends knew it. Ezra knew it, too.

“Thalia, you can’t!” The younger blonde girl called out, terrified, and the older two shared a look of understanding. Ezra stood there, frozen, as the blonde boy grabbed the younger girl, making her sob, and desperately reached for the other girl, presumably Thalia.

The young girl's nails clawed at the boy's arms, “No- no, Luke, let me go, I need- Thalia, please,” she screamed.

It was clear he didn’t want to do it, but there was a kind of silent duty in his eyes, that he knew what he had to do to keep the younger girl safe- a look that Ezra often had.

Thalia turned back to the monsters, all while the younger blonde girl screamed, begging for her to come with them, and the older boy stoically ran down the hills, to the cabins.

The only ones who saw Thalia Grace take her final stand that night were the gods and Ezra Saad.

And when the smell of ozone flickered through the air and a Pinetree spouted from the ground where Thalia’s dead body had been, Ezra felt grief sprout in her chest alongside the towering tree. She could almost see the remnants of the dead girl in the spiny leaves of the pine.

Ezra woke up, shuddering, her eyes crusty, hot tears rolling down her face, silent sob caught in her throat. As much as she would like to, she couldn’t sit here and mope the whole day, so forced herself out of her bed.

Ezra’s cheek still ached and she winced every time she moved her left arm. However, what hurt the most was the terrible inadequacy that rested right below her ribs. She had stood there, yesterday, in front of a dying girl, probably fourteen or fifteen years old, just like Ezra, and hadn’t done a thing.

Her cereal felt like ash in her mouth, putting the spoon in the bowl and then forcing it into her mouth, mechanical and robotic- as though Ezra had briefly forgotten what it felt like to be human.

Ezra didn’t even notice Sarah’s bewildered look as she noticed the faintest redness still on her jaw, or Aurora’s concerned glances, or the twins trying to pester her, hoping for a reaction, or even the smug superiority of her father.

Chapter Text

The dream-nightmare stuck in her mind for the next few days, arguably, the next few weeks, and when Ezra brought it up with Nyx- the primordial had dismissed it. She had claimed, “Demigod dreams would take precedence over training, they’re fate.”

And Nyx’s eyes had sharpened, before dismissing the rest of Ezra’s questions, and insisting they go back to training. The dismissal hit a nerve within Ezra, but it wasn’t like she could say anything, so she had continued training, and then went to school the next morning like her mind wasn’t in turmoil.

If one shitty mother figure wasn’t enough, Sarah was also getting on Ezra’s nerves nowadays.

Sometimes, Ezra disliked Sarah as much as she disliked her father. Ezra knew it wasn’t fair of herself to think like that. Sarah was the kind one, the one who patched her up, the one who gave her praise and reassurance. If Sarah hadn’t been around when Ezra was a kid, Ezra thinks she would have been long dead by now- since it wasn’t like her father or Nyx would take care of a newborn baby.

Safe to say, Sarah was a pretty good step mother on the tier list of step mothers. It was just days like this where she pissed Ezra off.

“What do you think you’re doing wearing that? Are you trying to look like a boy?” Sarah scowled, continuing the rant that had started ten minutes ago when Ezra had come out of her room wearing—gasp—ripped jeans.

Sarah’s rant continues, “People will make assumptions, you’re embarrassing your family! I don’t want you to bear their opinions, they’ll whisper about you behind your back and talk badly about you and-”

“Well fuck their opinions!” Ezra huffs, crossing her arms. She’s (mildly) grateful that the twins have had the decency to snoop from the living room, instead of standing there, so she doesn’t feel too bad cursing.

“You’re becoming so western, growing up here,” Sarah wags her finger disapprovingly, “If your grandmother could see you now, she would be disappointed.”

“Who cares? She’s dead.”

Ezra was so tired, of living by other peoples rules, of doing what other people wanted. Ezra had seen someone, a whole other human being, die for the first time- and sure, Thalia’s death was horrible, but there were two things that stood out about the other girl.

One, and most important, she cared deeply for the people around her; the people she considered family. Even going so far as to sacrifice herself for them, and Ezra was much the same. Ezra would die in a heartbeat if it meant Amira or Ali or even Aurora would be safe.

The second was that Thalia was unabashedly herself, even if Ezra was too busy panicking to notice it at the time.

The ripped jacket, the dark clothes. The messy, jagged hair. The way Thalia’s voice carried, sharp and unapologetic, even when it cracked with fear and rage.

Things Sarah would hate. Things Ezra wanted.

“What man will want to marry you if you look like this?” Sarah’s voice snaps her back to reality, and for a brief moment, the words sting.

Because how can Ezra tell her? How can Ezra say ‘I’m not even sure if I like boys?’ How can Ezra say that sometimes when she wears the delicate pastel dresses that Sarah buys for her it feels wrong?

Ezra wants to wear dark clothes and listen to loud rock music and do stupid teenager things like get drunk or kiss other people but she just can’t. Not with Sarah around. Not with her father around.

Ezra almost stays quiet, almost thinks about going back to her room and changing into normal jeans or even a dress or whatever. But then the thought of an angry girl comes back to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m 14, I don’t need to marry anyone,” Ezra scoffs, playing unaffected.

Sarah puts her hands at her hips and it seems she only gets more frustrated with every snippy remark. “You’ll regret that tone when you’re 23 and want to find a good match.”

“Like you found such a good match?” Ezra scoffs, and before she can stop herself she’s already grabbing her bag and storming out the front door- ignoring Sarah yelling at her to come back.

The door slams harsh around her, and Ezra has already started walking before she can even think of where to go. She doesn’t have a phone, unlike the other kids at her school. She had tried begging for it months ago, before realizing that they didn’t have enough money and it was stupid to get her hopes up.

Nor does Ezra have a plan, or a map, or food or water- all of the most basic things for survival.

She feels a low panic thrum up her spine, and her bag feels heavy on her shoulders. Ezra tried breathing in, and then breathing out, forcing herself to walk.

She couldn’t just stand on the street, Ezra would look like a tourist, easy pickings for anyone who wanted to hurt her.

So, Ezra let her feet guide her to the park- which was always a safe bet. Prospect Park, to be specific, just far enough away where Sarah couldn’t follow her, and just close enough that she could get back home, eventually.

It wasn’t like Ezra could live out here, and Sarah’s frustration wouldn’t last forever.

So, she found a place underneath the trees to sit and decided to wait it out. She had brought her backpack with her, but after digging through it all she could find were her school note books, an empty candy wrapper and pens.

Sure the breeze was nice, and Ezra had always loved the scent of clean grass. But there was nothing for Ezra to do, except stare at the sky and cloud watch. Which was, decidedly, boring.

Within a few minutes Ezra’s fingers were impatiently tapping against her thigh, and she was growing restless.

Although…there was something else she could technically do. Ezra could always experiment with her powers or even practice sword fighting.

So, with boredom fueling her, Ezra got to her feet, and headed deeper into the woods. When she was finally sure no one would be able to see her, Ezra tugged on the sword charm on her bracelet.

Although it had been months since Nyx had given it to her, Ezra would never stop being awed as it lengthened into a full stygian iron sword, shadows clinging to the metal.

She swung it around, relaxed, playing with the sword. Now that Ezra was much more skilled with it, and Nyx wasn’t looming over her shoulder the whole time, she could admit that sword fighting was cool.

Ezra didn’t notice when she started wandering deeper into the woods, but it was fun, like a child playing pretend. She did, however, notice, when the air became staler around her, and when tree trunks became thinner and almost sickly looking.

Her shoulders tensed further, furtively glancing around, Ezra’s grip on her sword changing from playful to deadly within mere moments.

And that was when she saw it.

What once could have been a beautiful grove of trees, their branches swaying in the sunlight, with thick trunks that could have been home to animals of all kinds, was now rotting. The wood was blackened, like ash, and the leaves had long fallen off, leaving spindly branches in its place.

It wasn’t the most horrifying thing Ezra had seen, but something about it set her nerves on edge. Ezra jolted when she heard a rustling sound, instinctively turning towards it.

There was nothing there.

She cautiously moved forward, going through the trees, and that was when she heard a growl so deep it seemed like it came from the earth itself. It reverberated through her spine and Ezra swore she could feel it in her stomach.

Ezra turned on her feet, sword instinctively raised in a parry, fending off an attack that she hadn’t even noticed was coming. The monster in front of her was one of medieval fantasy novels, the drakon’s scales glinted like burnished bronze in the sparse sunlight, muscles rippling under skin-tight plates, claws digging into the soil.

“Shit,” Ezra cursed, immediately turning on her heel and booking it, because fighting a drakon was a bad idea on a good day, let alone at 2:00 PM after an argument with her step mother.

The monster chased after her, letting out more of those earth splitting growls and roars, intent on eating her, probably.

Ezra ducked under a tree branch, and almost tripped on a root, before scrambling up and trying to think. It wasn’t like she could outrun a literal dragon forever. Even now, she could feel its hot breath mere feet away from her back- which was way too close to any monster, let alone a huge ass dragon.

Ezra yelped as a column of fire just barely missed her, ducking behind a tree, which quickly set aflame. She gathered the shadows together, thinking of the very sharp teeth and scales and claws she’d seen mere moments ago.

Because what was better to fight a drakon, then another drakon? Albeit, one made of shadows.

Ezra’s monster roared, redirecting the living drakons' attention.

The living drakon lunged, teeth snapping. Her shadow met it mid-air, claws slashing, scales colliding in a shower of sparks.

The creature recoiled, leaving streaks of golden dust in its wake, but her shadow drakon reformed instantly, darkness gathering around it like storm clouds.

Her shadow drakon lunged at her command, and Ezra shivered when it tore out the living drakons throat.

As soon as she was sure it was dead, Ezra fell to her knees, hands shaking. The shadow drakon disappeared into darkness, fading away. All the while, Ezra dealt with a pounding headache and the feeling of warm, sticky blood trailing down her chin from her nose.

How the hell was she going to explain this to Sarah?

Chapter Text

Ezra was sitting cross legged in front of her mirror, looking at the singed ends of her split hair, the slight fat rolls of her stomach, and the one pimple that was on her chin. They were all making her grimace at her figure.

She didn’t think she was too ugly, but compared to Aurora, or even the other girls at her school, Ezra was lackluster. Aurora looked like she could be in a movie, her blonde hair catching the light with each slight movement, perfectly smooth skin, and lithe limbs.

Ezra was the exact opposite. She had stocky shoulders and sinewy muscled arms, dark hair growing on every inch of her body and even dark eyes to match. She had a few scars on her arms, courtesy of monster attacks, which she didn’t mind the look of- but the raised texture of the skin definitely bothered her. As did the dark marks acne left on her skin.

She let out a frustrated sound, nails digging into her cheeks. She wished, for a moment, it would go away, that she was thinner or had different colored eyes—maybe green or blue. Anything but what they were.

Her breath fogged the mirror as she leaned closer, inspecting every inch and pore of her face, even though she logically knew that nobody would stand close enough to see them.

Ezra expected her features to stay the same, as most anyone would while looking at a mirror.

But before her very eyes, the image of herself in the mirror changed, echoing her thoughts.

Stomach rolls disappearing, skin becoming paper white, and eyes becoming forest green. At first, she thought it was just her imagination working over time, or perhaps a smudge in the mirror, maybe some idealistic thinking—until the pale face in the mirror blinked at the same time she did.

“Hello,” Ezra mouthed, testing the illusion, jolting back when it echoed the words perfectly.

Slowly, curiosity overtook her shock, this surely must be some new power. If Ezra could control the dead and shadows, surely shapeshifting wasn’t too out of bounds, right? She admired the face in the mirror for a few minutes, unable to help herself. It, objectively, looked nice, pretty in a way Ezra hardly counted as.

And then a pit settled in her stomach, because so many of her original features were the same as Amira. The same dark hair, tan skin and even the same face shape. Her younger half sister wasn’t ugly. The younger girl was the most beautiful happy kid Ezra had ever met.

Ezra looked down at her hands, and forced herself to think of the way her skin originally was, light brown, almost caramel in color. Except, when it came back, she wondered if that was how it truly looked, or maybe she had gotten the shade wrong—was it too light? Too dark?

She trembled as she looked in the mirror, forcing her eyes to go back to dark brown, almost black, but were they more honey brown than before? Did they still have flecks of green in them? How did Ezra know if the version of herself now was the same as before?

Ezra scrambled up, looking through her bedroom, rifling through the drawers for a picture. She was sure she had a polaroid somewhere. And when she finally found it, she looked closer, trying to identify if the her in the photo and the her in the mirror looked the same.

Ezra breathed a soft sigh of relief when she figured they were close enough.

And then she bit her lip, considering. If this was some other strange new power, even though Ezra couldn’t quite recall any shapeshifting powers Nyx or her children had, then what else could she do?

Her eyes narrowed, and Ezra carefully imagined blonde hair, instead of her own black locks, and then within seconds, the darkness faded into honey.

Ezra sat there, slack jawed, and forced her hair to go back to black, the blonde didn’t quite suit the dark skin, Ezra chided herself for that thought immediately after. Ezra shook her head and thought for a few moments. If Ezra could change her skin color, eye color, even the shape of her figure, she wondered if she could even go so far as looking like a boy.

Ezra’s hair became short, first, and she- they, carefully swept it to the side. Then they made their chest flatter, smoothing out their hips, before finally adding the last bit of male anatomy.

Ezra looked like a boy, and while their dark stocky features didn’t particularly lend themselves to femininity, they looked strangely nice in a masculine form.

He looked nice, the boy in the mirror.

Ezra jolted as a knock came at his, her, door- and quickly shifted back, getting to her feet. She tried her best not to look so embarrassed but Sarah, who was at the door, could clearly tell something was wrong, with the way her lips were pursed.

Instead of commenting on it, Sarah said, “Come help me prepare dinner, someone needs to chop the vegetables.” And Ezra almost sighed in relief, despite the hated chore, because now she would have time to think while her hands got lost in muscle memory.

As she finely diced onions, Ezra wondered where these powers came from. She could list most, if not all, of Nyx’s children; Aether, Hemera, Moros, Thanatos, Hypnos, Oizys, Momus, Nemesis, Eris, Achlys, Apate and Geras.

There was not a single god on that list that had shapeshifting abilities. Ezra’s only option to figure out why exactly she had this new power was by doing her least favorite thing- asking her mother.

Nyx was cryptic and impatient often, leaving her to be the worst person ever to ask questions and expect answers. But what else could Ezra do? Go to camp? Unless Ezra wanted to be cursed by her mother and then tortured in her dreams, that was definitely not an option.

Even though she already technically knew the address of the camp. Of course, It was easy enough to go to the library and google up camp half blood, it even had a website, where you could buy strawberries and other produce, probably a direct result of the nymphs on the land.

“Ezra, don’t forget to chop the cilantro, too,” Sarah called out, jolting Ezra out of her thoughts. She huffed, and forced herself to finish the task, and then help with setting the table and pouring the water.

Ezra was practically rushing to finish eating dinner and head to bed, even as Sarah sent her strange looks. She wanted to fall asleep and get lost in that horrifying nightmare hellscape, or rather Tartarus, as she had learned it was called, just to get answers to her questions.

When she finally did lose herself to darkness, the soft feeling of the comforter and mattress turning into sharp rocks digging into her slippered feet.

“Mother,” Ezra called out, turning on her heel, hoping the usage of the familial title would earn her some brownie points.

Ezra didn’t jolt, this time, when Nyx’s uncannily smiling face appeared right in front of her like a jump scare, having gotten used to it over time. “Yes, my darling?” The primordial cooed, her voice echoey and hollow, cold hand caressing Ezra’s face like she was a pet.

Ezra wondered how best to put her question, how she could ask it in the politest or most gently probing manner, but her mouth worked before her brain did. “Why can I shapeshift?” Ezra blurted out.

Nyx’s dark obsidian eyes narrowed, the goddess straightening and looking down at Ezra like a scientist observing a lab rat. “Your father,” the primordial simply replied, cryptic as ever.

“My father is a mortal…?” Ezra replied, careful to keep her voice just on the right side of subservient, not wanting her mothers ire directed towards her.

Nyx tilted her head, lips curving in amusement, as though Ezra was just the most naive thing the goddess had ever met. “Your father,” Nyx started. “Mortal and forgettable- not fragile like most, no. His blood is old, your blood is too, it remembers. Gods swarm to it like flies swarm to rot, like vultures to carrion.”

Nyx’s smile turned just a bit darker, teeth baring, “We all just want a bite, and some of us already have,” she purred, obsidian eyes looking even emptier than usual.

Ezra stood there, uncomprehending. Things suddenly made sense, now. Why, when her father shoved her around it ended up in bruises rather than soreness- and in Sarah broken bones. Why he seemed so scary, despite not being particularly intimidating looking. And, even more damning, why Nyx had even had a child with Abdul Saad of all people in the first place.

Ezra felt uneasy, like her blood and bones were somehow reacting to Nyx’s words despite them being just that- words. “So, you didn’t love him?” Ezra hesitantly asked, shifting on her feet.

“Love?” Nyx laughs, mocking and sickly sweet. “Will you sleep better at night if I tell you it was? If I tell you no, will your self hatred rise to new levels? What does it matter, darling? You’re here to serve a purpose.”

“A purpose?” Ezra numbly repeated, body feeling lethargic, too slow to catch up to her mothers cutting words.

“You are mine,” Nyx says, possession in every syllable. “Mine to mold. Mine to shape. My most prized pet. The gods will look at their own children and envy mine, because you are better. Your blood is old, even the three sisters whisper.” Nyx’s eyes go vacant for a moment, as though recalling a memory, flashing silver.

Ezra feels like an idiot. She knew her mother didn’t love her, but why did it hurt to be proven right, when usually it felt so good?

“The three sisters, like- like the fates?” Ezra asks, instead of yelling, or even worse, crying.

“Mmm, Father time…shift the war…fates chains,” Nyx murmurs beneath her breath, looking lost in thoughts of times long before Ezra was born, or even the thought of her was conceived in Nyx’s schemes.

“Tell me!” Ezra insists, trying not to yell, but failing anyway. Nyx’s cold gaze turns back on her, as though the primordial is wondering which would hurt Ezra more- telling her the prophecy, or not saying a thing. Or, even worse, Nyx might be considering which course of action would shape Ezra into the better soldier.

With cold dread seeping into her stomach, Ezra realizes that’s exactly what she is. Ezra is a soldier. Ezra is a fucked up scheme that her mother concocted for power and influence and fate. For an insidious moment, Ezra wishes she was dead, or better yet, she was never even born.

What snaps Ezra out of her thoughts is Nyx’s lilting voice.

“As Father Time breaks free once more,
Shadow's child shall shift the war
Ancient blood runs through their veins
Their will shall sever fates own chains.”

The syllables lingered in the air like smoke, clinging to her skin. Ezra opens her mouth, desperate to ask what it means, but before she can get a word in edge wise, she wakes up.

The light of her bedroom is harsh against her eyes, especially after the darkness of Tartarus and the prophecy scraped at the edges of her mind like nails on a chalk board.

Her heart is pounding, legs tangled in the sheets, and when water drips down her chin Ezra realizes she’s crying.

Chapter Text

Sleep was essential for human life, that was a well known fact. Another well known fact; the longest time a human had ever gone without sleep was eleven days and twenty five minutes. And that was with medical supervision.

Ezra was, however, trying to give Randy Gardner a run for his money. Why? Well, sleep meant seeing her mother. And Ezra had decided to do the very stereotypical thing and give her mother the cold shoulder. It was practically a right of passage into girlhood, to ignore your mother when you were mad.

However, the unintended side effects of this lack of sleep were becoming quite clear. It was day four of zero sleep. So far, Ezra was spending her nights reading books that she borrowed from the library, watching TV in the living room while muted so no one woke up and testing her shapeshifting whenever she could.

In fact, Ezra spent days after school, in her own room, changing her face. Sometimes she even dared to go out, looking completely different. Even her neighbours would not have recognized her had they seen her, and the rush of it was heady.

She could do anything, become anyone.

Ezra tried to be careful with the shapeshifting, not doing it around other people, but it was difficult when staying in her own skin made it feel like ants were crawling all over her.

Even Aurora had noticed something was off, as was clear when she looked at Ezra strangely one day while they were on the train, heading home.

“What is it?” Ezra asked, raising a brow, as though her heart wasn’t pounding in her chest with uncertainty.

Aurora paused, biting her bottom lip, “You look….different. Did you cut your hair, or something?” Aurora replied.

“Yeah, do you like it?” Ezra lied, but unlike all of her other lies that flowed so smoothly from her tongue, this seemed ill fitting at best and downright wrong at worst.

Aurora tilted her head, still worrying her lip, staring at Ezra as though looking for just a few minutes longer would give her the answer. Ezra refused to squirm under the other girl's gaze. If Ezra could face down monsters and her father and her mother- she could face down a fourteen year old girl.

Yet, it was strange to see the normally upbeat positive girl like this. And Ezra couldn’t help but feel like she was disappointing her in some way.

“It’s not just your hair, you’ve seemed off all week,” Aurora starts. “Remember during English class two days ago, I tapped your shoulder and you flinched so hard your notebook fell.”

Had it really been that bad? Ezra thought, but instead of confessing a thing, Ezra shrugged. “I’ve just been busy, you know how much homework I’ve had,” Ezra lies. Or well, half lies, she supposes.

“Ezra-” Aurora huffs, frowning.

“I’m serious, I’ll be fine, no need to worry about me, princess,” Ezra replied, a weak smirk on her face. She hoped the stupid nickname would throw Aurora off, and stop the line of questioning

But instead, if possible, Aurora just looked more concerned. “Don’t push me away, you help me all the time, let me return the favor,” Aurora coaxed, reaching out for Ezra’s wrist.

Ezra jolted away, standing up. “I- my stop is coming soon, I need to leave,” fell out of her mouth, a weak excuse.

Aurora didn’t look like she bought that excuse for a minute, especially since she knew Ezra’s stop was near the end of the train line. “Stop running from me, Ezra!” The blonde girl huffed, but Ezra was already turning on her heel and stepping onto the train platform.

The rush of cold air from the open doors hit her like a slap, and Ezra didn’t look back. She pushed through the crowd, footsteps echoing off tile and glass, desperate to put distance between herself and Aurora’s voice.

Ezra's heart was beating like a drum in her chest, and she walked as fast as she could. She felt dizzy, lightheaded. Ezra’s vision blurred around her, until the people, and train tracks and elevators and stairs all looked like smears of color.

Shadows began to coil around her, as though to comfort her but Ezra’s breathing was already too far gone. The harsh puffs of breath and sharp inhales didn’t even sound like Ezra, normally so composed.

She dug her nails into her palms, trying to regain some of that composure, but completely failing. The last thing she registered was the feeling of darkness around her, and the complete certainty that Ezra had lost her best friend.

The darkness wasn’t just a lack of light, it was the lack of ability to perceive the world around her. It swallowed depth and sound and even time itself. The edges of reality wavered, and Ezra forced her hands to wrap around herself.

The touch was grounding, but everything else was not.

How did she know she was alone? There were only two options when surrounded by darkness. One, nothing was there.

Or, two, something was.

It didn’t help that the shadows were moving, ever shifting, Ezra could’ve sworn there was a man in the corner watching her. Or was it a woman?

For a second it looked like her mother and the shadows whispered, “You dare defy me, godling?” Ezra felt ice settle into her gut. She knew that voice. The ancient voice of her mother. The same one from her nightmares.

“I’m sorry,” Ezra called out into the darkness. Ezra was shaking. When did she start shaking?

“Not sorry enough,” the Night whispered back. And Ezra jolted at the feeling of shadowy hands caressing her shoulder, and then the unsettling feeling of bugs crawling on her skin. Thin skittering creatures crawling around her body, making her squirm.

“Get off,” Ezra cried out, wiping at her legs, and then her arms, but no matter what she did it persisted. Then it shifted, it was snakes instead, but not the snakes that rose in her defense, or coiled to protect her.

Rather it was serpents that were there to bite, and oh how Ezra could feel it. Agonizing excruciating pain lanced through her body, and she could feel it, each bite of the shadow serpents. Their dry scales rubbed against her skin, and each time they coiled tight around it Ezra felt like she couldn't breathe.

It wasn’t real but it was. Because there was always something in the darkness, watching and waiting. There were always things touching her, bugs and snakes and spiders, the monsters she'd learned to fight tearing at her skin. Everything burned. Ezra felt like she was just one open wound, endlessly bleeding, unable to stop.

Ezra didn’t know how long time passed, minutes and seconds and hours all blurred. Coalescing into one unending moment of dread. She didn’t know where she began and the darkness ended. Or what parts of her were bleeding and burning and torn apart- and which were completely unharmed.

Ezra’s fingers felt numb and she was so cold. She was so tired. And everything ached. She could’ve sworn she wasn’t crying before but now tears were running down her eyes and down her chin.

She could taste the salt.

“I’m sorry-” Ezra sobbed, reaching for the darkness, like a child reaching for its mother, desperate for comfort. “I’m sorry, mom, please, let me leave, I’m sorry.”

The darkness didn’t respond, but it rippled, and her mothers face was there again, she was the man standing in the corner, waiting and watching. Nyx was the thing in the dark that children were scared of. Nyx was the man waiting outside the window that you thought was a trick of the light. Nyx was the creepy things you saw in the shadows of alleyways that made you speed up your steps.

The innate fear of night was not immature or foolish. It was survival.

“Did you learn your lesson, sweet thing?” The primordial whispered, cold hands caressing Ezra’s cheek. Ezra could have started crying right then and there because the touch was so very real and unmistakable.

“I did, I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice hollow, throat dry from sobbing.

Nyx smiled, that uncanny haunting smile, and praised, “Good. I will see you tonight.” And the darkness left as quickly as it had crept in. Ezra staggered, leaning towards the palm that was already long gone

Ezra was alone, in a train station far from home, tear tracks running down her cheeks that she couldn’t stop even if she had the will to try. Her whole body was wracked with shivers, and the only two things she could think were;

One, she hated her mother. And second, it would do Ezra good to avoid her wrath.

Chapter Text

Ezra hadn’t gone to debate club for the past two weeks. Firstly, because it was the last month of school, so what even was the point? And secondly, Ezra didn’t think she could stand to see the sad kicked puppy dog look on Aurora’s face after what happened at the train station.

Even more so, Ezra had decided she was a terrible person. The worst sort of person, in fact; a liar.

Ezra lied about everything and to everyone. She lied about where her bruises came from; whether they were from her father or the monsters. She lied about who she was, being a demigod. She lied about small things too, pretending things were better than they were at home, or that she was doing fine when really Ezra was breaking apart at the seams.

So, all in all, Ezra didn’t think Aurora would forgive her for lying straight to the other girl's face, pushing Aurora away, and then running off.

Even worse than trying to avoid her best friend, who she shared three classes with, was Nyx’s new lessons. Before, they could be cruel and harsh but were useful, important things that aided Ezra’s survival.

Now they were just new ways for Nyx to torture her, disguised as training sessions. Ezra couldn’t recall how many times she’d woken up in the past few weeks with a new injury she had to hide.

On the bright side, Ezra had learned how to do stitches with dental floss and needles. She had to look at the silver linings unless Ezra wanted to end up depressed and hopeless all the time.

Which was not easy.

Ezra sighed softly, rolling her shoulders, shaking herself of her thoughts. The hallway smelled faintly of lemon floor cleaner and teenage boys- frankly gross. She didn’t want to be spotted by anyone, which is why the shadows were crawling up her limbs and cloaking her. It had scared her at first, weeks ago, when Ezra controlled the shadows- they reminded her all too much of the hallucinations she had suffered through in the dark.

But they were her powers. She couldn’t avoid them. As much as Ezra loathed to admit it they were her birthright. So, she had forced herself to endure them, even when she flinched or tensed. Even when the thought of being surrounded by darkness made her want to vomit or cry.

Either way, the reason for her sleuthing was because she was being, in Nyx’s words, pathetic.

Ezra missed Aurora. This was a simple fact. It didn’t matter that Ezra left class early just to avoid the other girl, or sat as far away from her as possible now, or whatever else. Aurora had, throughout the year, somehow become important to Ezra.

So, here Ezra was, hiding in the shadows, watching Aurora leave her last class and walk to debate club. Sure, Ezra was being creepy and definitely stalker adjacent, but it wasn’t like Aurora would forgive Ezra so easily for being a piece of shit friend.

Or like Ezra deserved Aurora’s friendship.

So, stalking it was.

Ezra had intended to stay for only a few minutes, just enough to catch the glint of Aurora’s blonde hair against the fluorescent lighting, or to see the other girl smile and get all passionate about the topic they were discussing at debate club.

But then, Ezra’s eyes caught on the man standing at the front of the room. The same man that still made Aurora’s shoulders tense. After that incident all those months ago, Ezra had learned a lot about him from the library computer.

He was thirty-six, unmarried, and lived in a broken-down apartment on the lower east side. He had a LinkedIn and a Facebook account where he only rarely posted. His full government name was Damian Wilson but he just asked the kids to call him Coach W.

Ezra didn’t trust him, even if he hadn’t done anything. Because Aurora was still scared, and that meant Ezra still had to protect her.

Ezra cursed herself in her head, what if something had happened in the weeks she hadn’t been going to debate club? Ezra should have been keeping track of Aurora just to make sure she was safe.

So, that was exactly what she did. Ezra hid herself in the shadows and watched as Aurora bloomed under other people's attention and participated with such fervor and passion. It made envy rise sharply in Ezra’s gut, which she forced down with a vengeance.

It was okay that Aurora was talking to other people. Obviously, that’s what would happen when Ezra refused to show up.

Ezra ignored how her chest tightened when Aurora laughed, or how her gaze lingered on Aurora’s face the whole hour. She practically jolted when Coach announced club time was over.

Ezra watched as everyone packed their stuff, heading out, except Aurora. Although, Aurora’s lips were slightly pursed and her shoulders were raised.

“Ms. Vale,” Coach called out, "Come here.” The older man ushered her over with the wave of his palm, and Ezra felt her whole body tense in expectation

Aurora obediently walked over, like a girl walking to the guillotine, her blonde hair covering some of her face. “You wanted to see me, Coach?” And Ezra could hear the faint tremor underneath her words.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Aurora,” The older man said, voice faintly amused, sitting with his legs splayed in his office chair. Ezra watched, horrified, as Aurora moved around the desk, and stood between his legs.

“Good girl,” he cooed, raising a hand to condescendingly pat the young girl's cheek, making the fists at Aurora’s side clench so hard they turned white.

Ezra didn’t feel a haze of red come over her vision, or feel the immediate instinct to punch the man. Instead, Ezra felt ice wrap itself around her, cold and sharp, tendrils of darkness wrapping around her form.

She knew with exact certainty that this man was going to die today. At Ezra’s hands.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ezra’s voice was soft and deadly, yet it broke through the silence of the room like a knife. Ezra had stepped out of the shadows, even as darkness wrapped around her.

Aurora’s full body flinched, as though ashamed, and immediately attempted to move away from the older man, who gripped her wrist.

“Nothing, just a teacher student conversation,” Coach smoothly interrupted, before shifting the topic. “Where have you been, Ezra, I haven’t seen you at club in weeks.” Yet there was a tremor in his hands that betrayed his innate fear of Ezra. He didn't know why he was scared of a teenage girl, but he was.

Ezra sneered, ignoring the man, and turned to Aurora, “Do you want him to stop?” She asked, almost gently. There was deadly seriousness in Ezra’s eyes, and Aurora knew it.

The other girl hesitated for only a few seconds before she nodded, lower jaw trembling, eyes glassy. Ezra didn’t waste any time, turning back to Coach- no, Damian Wilson.

No mercy was in her eyes when a rope of shadows wrapped around his neck, and Damian Wilson choked once, then twice, scrabbling for his throat, but unable to do anything. Horror was written on every corner of his face, as was fear.

His legs kicked until all the oxygen drained from his body, and he dangled limply from the ceiling. Ezra found she didn’t care if this murder made her a monster, not if it kept Aurora safe.

After, when Ezra knew with a certainty deep in her bones that Damian Wilson was gone, the shadows tore at him, consuming him piece by piece. Like pigs or vultures, they had no mind for the taste of flesh.

Ezra finally turned to Aurora, who was sitting there, scared and relieved and guilty all at once.

“I- thank you,” Aurora croaked, she felt horrible over the older man's death, but there was also this wicked sense of relief. The relief that the person hurting her was gone.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Ezra murmured, standing stock still. Ezra waited for Aurora to see the monster lurking beneath skin and flesh and bones. She waited for Aurora to turn on her heel and run, or scream at Ezra or something, anything.

Instead, Aurora murmured, “But you still came,” and then the other girl was falling into Ezra’s arms. All Ezra did was let out a small ‘oof’ and hold her tightly. Ezra could feel hot tears seeping into her sweater and hear little hitched sobs, but all she did was rub Aurora’s back.

Ezra wasn’t sure what made her chest ache more, the sight of Aurora crying, or the undeserved gratitude Aurora had given her.