Demigod Journals (Percy Jackson FanFic - Blood Of Olympus)

Saved by The Goddess (Thalia)

POV: Thalia

((Arena of Anteus...))

I woke up with a not-so-mild headache and jelly limbs. And it took me some time, a relatively slow time, before I remembered what happened to me and why I was lying on some dirt field - no, not field, it was an arena.

"Luke!" I yelped and bolted upright, my eyes quickly scanning the place. "Luke!" I called once again, this time with a bit of panic as I saw a familiar body lying prone in the middle of the ground.

I crossed the distance between us in a second and knelt beside him. I wasn't able to stop the gasp of horror as I saw the gaping wounds that ran over his back. Four deep gashes of different lengths now marred his skin with an angry shade of red, green and black. Red for the blood that still continued to pour from the open wound and green and black for the signs of infection as the cuts were covered in dirt and also poison as it's the only thing that could create the little yellowish foam forming around the edges of the wounds.

"Luke!" I tried to wake him as I fervently search for anything that I could use to help him. But I didn't have my medical pack with me, that - which was really stupid of me - was left behind at camp. My eyes dropped to a thing that lay a foot from Luke. It was a head, not of a human but of werewolf. "Lycaon..." I mumbled in horror as the possibility came to mind. "Don't tell me this... This..."

Suddenly, Luke started to convulse wildly and I was helpless to do anything for him. "No! I'm not helpless." I reprimanded myself, refusing to believe that there's nothing I could do for him. I resorted to the last thing that I could do. I called on for the one person that could help me now.

"Please answer. Please." I prayed as I held my silver tiara tightly in my hands.

A second passed, then ten. Twenty. I counted each second as I prayed and prayed. By the mark of thirty seconds, Luke had started to scream in pain. He curled up, he thrashed while I did my best to keep him still, to not let him hurt himself more. That was all I could do, and pray.

"Luke, hang on." I kept on telling him but my voice was nothing compared to his screams. My chest tightened every time he let out that cry of agony. "Luke..."

Then suddenly, he just stopped. Luke stopped screaming, his seizures gone, and he lay motionless once again just like how I found him earlier. I wasn't assured though, instead I could feel a cold panic gripping my guts. I shook his shoulders. "Luke!" I called and there was no response. I remembered what Artemis had once told us about werewolves' poison - either you live with the same cursed life or you die. Immediately, I searched for Luke's pulse.

None. I found none.

"Shit!" I cursed as I angrily took my black shirt off and lay it beside Luke. My next movements seemed to go on my head in a blur, with all the panic that was building inside my chest. I carefully rolled Luke on his back and on my shirt, checked his pulse once more, cursed the kind of rotten luck we always seemed to have and positioned my palms, one on top of the other, over his still heart.

"You are not dying on me, Luke. Not again." I told his expressionless face over and over again as I locked my elbows and began a set of chest compressions. "Come on, Luke!" I urged through gritted teeth. "Return to me, dam it! If you don't come back to me now, I would force your heart to beat again, in whatever means I could think of, even if it's the last thing I'd do."

I felt for his pulse again and I have to restrain myself from crying out. With shaking fingers, I checked his airway, all the while, mentally noting the first-aids taught to me by Chiron at camp. I needed it to distract myself from the fact that Luke still wasn't breathing.