Pretty Boys - PJO/HoO One Shots

Connor Stoll 7.0 // The Beginning of The End

Fires.

You felt them before you saw them.

"(Y/n)! Up! Now!" Will Solace, head of the cabin, grabbed your arm, yanking you out of bed. Bleary-eyed, you stumbled after your half-brother, weaving around the fires creeping up the wooden posts. Bursting out of the cabin doors, the wave of fresh oxygen was accompanied by wails of agony and screaming. You soaked in the scene, practically feeling the agony of campers radiating around you. Unlike most children of Apollo, you were not sensitive to healing yet, but rather to pain. And this? Oh, this was something entirely new.

The camp was shockingly alive with all kinds of pain. Not just physical agony, but emotional loss. As you paused to look around in the camp, the orange hues of the fire drawing monsters of shadows, you couldn't help but focus on a shadowy figure gracefully hopping from cabin to cabin. You grabbed Will by his shirt and urgently pointed up. The both of you stood, trying to focus on the figure, as the crowd of escaping campers parted around you.

It seemed to float in the air, springing up into the red night sky and as it came back to the ground, it stretched out its arms and black tendrils struck the ground. The ground exploded into violet flames which melted structures in a pile of black goo. Will nocked an arrow when monsters rose from the puddles, reaching out in a ghastly howl. Suddenly, you saw him.

Connor.

He slashed the monster mercilessly, face stained with dried blood. Dodging its attacks, he moved with the agility only a child of Hermes could possess. But no demigod could ever imagine such a monster. If you imagined a werewolf reduced to its skeleton and an armour of thick impenetrable skin, its head resembling the bud of a flower which opened to reveal rows of fangs and a long slimy tongue, that's what they looked like. No matter how many he cut down, more kept appearing. You tried to move to help him, but it was like your feet had become sacks of lead. You snapped your fingers, trying to conjure some light to help. You turned to Will, who was two steps ahead, already running towards Connor. Together, back to back, they fought like true seasoned warriors. Blades connecting with flesh, arrows piercing hide, it was true that Camp Half Blood bred the real children of Gods.

The fires quietened around them as the last monster crumpled to the floor. Connor and Will sighed, loosening their grip on their weapon. But you felt... something strange. It was as if you had watched this many times. The same feeling of loss, fear, helplessness, a false sense of security. And that strange sense of knowing something was wrong.

You waved your hands wildly, trying to get their attention. They smiled tiredly and waved back.

"It's okay, (y/n). We killed them all!"

You shook your head, trying to warn them, but your voice felt glued to your throat. Where did the shadow figure go?

"(Y/n), we-"

Will gasped as a tendril of shadow passed through his chest. You caught your breath.

No.

Connor tried to stab the shadow figure who appeared behind them, its sickening grin appearing in the light of the purple flames. It stepped aside almost lazily, catching the blade and snapping it in half. Will fell to his knees, blood pouring out the side of his mouth. You tried to run, you tried to reach him, you tried to do anything, you even tried to scream for God's sake, but it was as if you were frozen, a spectator forced to watch. The shadow figure kicked him aside and closed his fist around Connor's neck, raising him off the ground. Connor has always been tall and strong for a child of Hermes but at this moment, as he kicked uselessly in its grip, he reminded you of a mortal child.