the ocean can wash me away

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The full moon had always called to Percy.

Sally thought so, at least. It had unraveled before her in a flash, leaving her dazed on her feet. But she had a feeling that the connection had always been there, waiting, biding its time.

Ever since he'd been a bundle in her arms, light touching his newborn eyes and lungs screaming, she'd known that her son would be something special. She knew what his father had meant in regards to that. But still, she'd never believed that Percy would end up like this.

The moon. It was the moon, she knew.

It happened every time he ventured outside with that round, silver-like being gracing the sky. It was as if he'd been hypnotized. Spellbound. Turned into a completely different person. But only if he dared give it a glance.

The phenomenon was...strange, and even worrying. At least at first; many years passed without the two of them—mother and son—realizing just how powerful the moon could be.

Percy's first "Moon Spell", as she liked to call it, began on a trip to Montauk.

When money wasn't tight and her boss had offered her a vacation, she packed her bags, grabbed her five-year-old, and left New York's imposing atmosphere.

The beach, as always, felt like home. Felt like the warmth of a smile. Of sailing ships and dusty cabins and fairy lights. Of salty kisses and sea spray and comfort. Of laughter and sleep-in's and a god with eyes like the sea.

"The moon," Percy babbled as he watched her clean the cabin. She turned to him. His wide eyes stared up at her with innocent curiosity, so precious and beautiful. Just like the sea. Just like his father's.

"The moon," he repeated. "We'll see a full moon, Mamma."

Sally gave him an inquisitive smile and kneeled in front of him. She ruffled his hair. "How do you know that, sweetheart?"

He shrugged. "Just know." He ran to the window and gazed outside, stepping on some of the dusty furniture. She didn't mind, though. "The ocean is excited. Don't you feel it?"

Sally's lips parted, but no words came. Percy shoved his little hand into his mouth and hopped off the table, going back to being a five-year-old, skipping around the cabin without a care in the world.

She realized that her mouth was still open. She clamped it shut, shaking her head.

If you could only see. What a son you've left me.



"Don't you feel it, Sal?" he said, pulling her closer.

She looked up at him and met his eyes.

"What?"

"The sea," Poseidon explained. "It rises with the moon. Over and over. One of the only sureties in this world. Over and over, the tide will rise."

Sally gave him a funny look. "Well, of course I know about the tides and that it's a full moon—"

"Yes, but do you feel it?"

Her eyes swept across the rolling waves. They pounded against each other, a relentless dance. Dusk fell over the horizon like a comforting shawl, painting the sky in deep purples and pinks and making the water darken to a gray hue. It swirled around, reaching her legs and leaving white foam that slowly disappeared once it lingered there. Her toes curled into the sand, dress soaked from the water. She leaned into the warmth of the man embracing her.

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