𝓓𝓪𝔂𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻 | Percy Jackson and the Olympians

vii - Teenagers, amirite!

Lyanna notched another arrow and let it go, sighing discontentedly as it slammed into the dirt with an echoing thud. She'd returned to the archery range after dinner that night to practice, to try and at least hit the closest target but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to even get close to the rounded slab of wood. She notched an arrow again, holding the flights against her cheek before releasing the string. She almost celebrated this attempt but the arrowhead flew under the target and flipped over as the flights collected the edge of the face.

She sat in the grass indignantly and began plucking at a few of the blades absentmindedly as she raged at herself in her mind. She huffed and lay back, staring at the kaleidoscope of colours caused by the setting sun reflecting off the clouds above her. She placed the back of her hand over her eyes and pondered for a moment. She was awful at archery, couldn't do any of the healing that other Apollo kids could and, thus far, hadn't produced a prophecy leading her to believe she didn't have that ability from her grandpa either. It was really getting to her the fact that she was only good at two things at camp but others were already multiple times better than her at them.

Her mind wandered back to yesterday in the forest. The dark tendrils pulsating with the hum of death. The poppies producing a pollen so powerful it could send you to sleep with a single smell. The searing pain in her shoulder blades as jet-black wings sprung out of them and ripped her clothes to shreds. Darkness and death were synonymous with monsters throughout the myths her mom recounted to her. Did all these things make her a monster too? Would it be better if she just left camp and saved everyone the trouble of endangering them?

She picked up her bow and held it above her face with a sigh. If only she had a single thing to tie her to her mom and grandpa, maybe the other Apollo kids wouldn't treat her so poorly. She sat up, looping her finger over and over again around the knot keeping the drawstring in the wood of the bow. She looked down to her bracelet and pulled it off her wrist, placing it in the palm of her left hand with a sigh. Not only was she letting down her grandpa with her poor archery performance, she was also letting down Artemis who she owed her life to.

She undid the clasp of the bracelet and gasped as it sprung out into an elegant silver bow that reflected the dying sunlight. She stood up hastily and held the bow up in her right hand. Usually, she had to use her left hand for the wooden bows the camp lent out. Although she was ambidextrous, holding the silver bow in her right hand felt so much more natural than holding the wooden bow in her left. She picked up an arrow from the basket and placed it on the string. She pulled back and took a deep breath as the flights brushed past her face. She steeled her resolve and stared down the target in front of her, sending a quick prayer to Apollo and Artemis.

She let go of the string. She didn't move as she watched the arrow sore like a rocket through the sky. Her eyes widened as a thump rang across the archery range. The arrow had ploughed through the target, biting through the gold extremely close to the bullseye. Her eyes lit up and she cheered loudly in celebration to herself, thanking the twin gods of archery for guiding her shot. She skipped over and plucked her arrow from the target, humming excitedly as she placed it back in the basket. She sat down on the floor, staring at her silver bow in pure admiration, running a finger over the intricate designs of deer and spiralling vines ascending the curves.

"Why don't you try it again?" A voice came softly behind her.

She jumped up with a start and knocked an arrow into her bow as she turned to face the source of the voice. She narrowed her eyes at the line of trees where a shadowed figure was stood leaning against a pine. She tensed her wrist, drawing her arrow back even further as the man began to move.

"Honestly, you'd think you didn't want to see your grandfather or something," the man called as he walked into the archery range with his arms raised in surrender.