By Inferno's Light [ Percy Jackson OC ]

ONE | Alex

ALEX KNEW OF ONE SURE FIRE WAY not to have nightmares, and that was to not sleep.

The gnarled bark of Thalia's Tree dug into his back as he stared out over Long Island, as far away from Camp Half-Blood as he could see. That wasn't far. The sun had only just begun to rise, spilling pale gold over the darkness. His body ached from disuse. Despite taking over guard duty that night from Peleus, he hadn't worn any armor. The tree bark and frost all but ignored his orange camp shirt and brown jacket.

Kitty called him crazy. Connor and Travis agreed with her. But Alex didn't care about that. As often as he could, he gave Peleus the Dragon the night off so he could keep a silent vigil. He hadn't seen Ophelia in months. But she'd be back someday, and Alex hoped to greet her here, in the same place she had first shadow-traveled away seven months ago.

A burning pain spread out from his right abdomen at the memory. Alex placed a hand over the part of his shirt that hid black, web-like tendrils of necromantic healing. He felt nothing. Alex took a shaky breath. Ophelia had saved his life. But it had cost them both dearly.

It had cost them each other.

Despite the anxiety that often plagued him when he thought about Eris, his losing duel with the goddess of discord didn't keep him up at night. He didn't see her serial-killer smile when he closed his eyes.

No. Alex saw something else that reeked of the Underworld. He'd tried to dismiss it as stress at first. But the fear and blackness that haunted his recurring nightmares reminded him far too much of what he'd experienced on his quest for the Lyre of Orpheus.

It always started with ravens. They circled far above him in a grayscale sky, croaking our calls that sounded almost like deranged human laughter. Then a deep cold would set in. It penetrated his skin, freezing his bones until all warmth left him. All the leafless trees would sway and groan, their branches black against the sky.

In the nightmare, Alex would wander for hours. He saw no one else but the black birds which would swoop down to follow each step he took as if waiting for him to falter. Then, at last, he would come to the bank of a dark blue lake. Shallow waves lapped at his feet. And there, in the edges of the water, he always found it: a grand bow of celestial bronze and platinum and a quiver of arrows, each with arrowheads seeping a dark red poison like blood from a wound that never healed.

Every nightmare ended as it began: with ravens. Whenever he reached down to examine the waterlogged bow, one would break off from the group circling in the sky. Alex would race to nock an arrow before the bird reached him. He always failed. Alex woke drenched in sweat as the raven clawed his face, grasping for Vindication around his wrist for some small comfort.

He never had the caduceus in his nightmare. As Alex watched the sun climb higher in the sky from his uncomfortable post atop Half-Blood Hill, he ran his finger over the celestial bronze bracelet. He never took it off. Ever since the gods had sealed off Olympus, apparently for good, he'd clung to it.