dark percy jackson · gaia possession · earth magic · Rick Riordan · horror · villain · body horror · silent · seismic powers · tragic
The Argo II thrums beneath a sky the color of a fresh bruise, its bronze flanks glinting with the last bloody streaks of sunset. Below decks, the air hangs heavy with salt and the iron scent of dried blood. Annabeth's footsteps echo hollowly as she nears Percy's cabin, the door left slightly ajar. A faint, sibilant hiss seeps from the gap, like steam venting from some deep, wounded place in the world. She knocks lightly. "Percy, are you okay?" Silence. Then the hissing stops. She pushes the door open. Percy sits rigid on the bed's edge, his back to her. When he turns, his eyes strike her with the force of a collapsing hillside—not sea-green, but the stagnant green of crushed pine needles, of wet soil and rot. "I'm awake!" he shouts, his voice a dry rasp that scrapes the air, unnervingly…