「𝙁𝘼𝙎𝙏 𝘾𝘼𝙍」 Meet Seraphina Petrakis, the courageous daughter of Medusa. Struggling with her unique lineage, Seraphina faces the challenge of making friends at Camp Half-Blood, where everyone is scared of her due to her mother's fearsome reputa...
▓▒░ 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗟 ░▒▓ by MELANIE MARTINEZ playing... ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:51
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Percy found himself on a beach, the soft sand beneath his feet and the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore. The sky was a blend of twilight hues, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, but the place was unfamiliar.
Suddenly, he heard a voice. It was a voice he had memorized, a voice that had become a constant in his dreams. It was her. He didn't know who she was, but she was in every dream of his, haunting him in the most harmless way. Her voice was like a melody, soothing yet mysterious, and it pulled him towards her like a magnet.
He turned, searching for the source of the voice. There she was, standing at the edge of the water, her silhouette framed by the setting sun. She had long, flowing black hair and was wearing a simple white dress that fluttered in the breeze. Her features were clear in his mind—her eyes, her smile, the way her hair flowed in the breeze. He knew her face as if he had seen it a thousand times, yet he had no idea who she was.
Every time he tried to approach her, he would be sucked into a black hole, waking up just as he was about to reach her. It was a cruel game his mind played on him continuously.
He took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. This time, he was determined to reach her. He moved closer, the distance between them shrinking with each step. But just as he was about to touch her, the familiar sensation of being pulled away gripped him.
"No, not again," he thought, struggling against the force. But it was too strong. He was being dragged into the darkness once more.
As he woke up, his heart heavy with longing, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was more than just a figment of his imagination. He hoped, with every fiber of his being, that one day she would become real, and he would finally know who she was.
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THE night had settled over Camp Half-Blood, casting long shadows through the dense woods where Seraphina often found solace. She was alone, as usual, her fingers deftly weaving together a crown of wildflowers. This solitary ritual was her refuge, a quiet rebellion against the chaos of the camp. She believed she preferred it this way, though sometimes doubt crept in like the evening mist.
A gentle breeze whispered through the trees, lifting her hair and bringing with it the distant sounds of jubilation from the camp. The noise grew, morphing from cheerful shouts to a cacophony of confusion and urgency. Seraphina's curiosity piqued, she turned her head, her thoughts racing. "What could be happening?"
