𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 - jason grace ¹

iv. in a daydream

IV. JASON !
⋆ ★
in a daydream

Jason watched the grass freeze with every step Violet took. He kept thinking back to them floating in the middle of the Grand Canyon with her ice cold skin in contact with him. The fear in her eyes from nearly falling to her death was still there, like it hadn't left her memory. But the more Jason watched her, he noticed walk weakened, even her sighs getting heavier, and when the frost on the grass stopped. When she kept fanning herself to give her the slightest bit of cool air he started getting more worried. It wasn't too hot at camp but still hot enough to make it resemble summer, completely different than the Grand Canyon's weather.

"Violet?" He went to place a hand on her shoulder but hesitated. He had felt her skin and it was so cold he felt like he would get frostbite. Luckily, she didn't seem to notice him placing his hand down. "Violet, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," She brushed off. Violet would've been convincing to Jason if her face wasn't sweating a concerning amount. But compared to how she looked minutes ago he was worried she would pass out. But he barely knew Violet and he knew pressuring her was the last thing she wanted or needed.  "Here we are. The Big House, camp headquarters."

It didn't look threatening, just a four-story manor painted baby blue with white trim. The wraparound porch had lounge chairs, a card table, and an empty wheelchair. Wind chimes shaped like nymphs turned into trees as they spun. Jason could imagine old people coming here for summer vacation, sitting on the porch and sipping prune juice while they watched the sunset. Still, the windows seemed to glare down at him like angry eyes. The wide-open doorway looked ready to swallow him. On the highest gable, a bronze eagle weathervane spun in the wind and pointed straight in his direction, as if telling him to turn around. Every molecule in Jason's body told him he was on enemy ground.

"I am not supposed to be here," he said.

"You belong here," Violet tried to assure him. But it was hard to be convinced by her when she looked close to passing out. A drop of sweat fell from her forehead.

"Violet, I really think you should—"

"I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me."

"You look sick! This doesn't seem normal for—" Jason stopped talking when Violet started wobbling around and lost her balance. She began to fall before Jason caught her in his arms, Violet sinking into them. Her skin wasn't cold, in fact it was just like anyone else's. Violet's skin was always cold, Jason had noticed that. He noticed she ran on being cold which was why she thrived in the world outside of the camp. But now she was in the heat, which meant her body temperature was not normal.

Jason heard footsteps on the front porch. No— not footsteps— hooves.

"Help! I don't know what is wrong with her but—"

Jason would've backed up if he didn't have a frail body in his arms. Rounding the corner of the porch was a man on horseback. Except he wasn't on horseback-he was part of the horse. From the waist up he was human, with curly brown hair and a well-trimmed beard.

He wore a T-shirt that said World's Best Centaur, and had a quiver and bow strapped to his back. His head was so high up he had to duck to avoid the porch lights, because from the waist down, he was a white stallion.

Chiron started to take his eyes off Violet than to Jason. Then the color drained from his face.

"You . . ." The centaur's eves flared like a cornered
animal's. "You should be dead."