THADDEUS POV
A faint hoot from an owl jerks me awake from my restless sleep. Groaning, I blink up at the wooden ceiling of the cabin where I now stay. "Those stupid dreams again..." I mutter, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The same haunting memories play in my head night after night, their edges sharp and unrelenting.
I push myself up from the bed, the cool night air prickling my skin. The covers still cling lazily to my legs—mostly because I'm too tired, or let's be honest, too lazy, to kick them off completely. My feet find the wooden floor, and I sit on the edge of the bed for a moment, letting the quiet of the camp settle over me.
The fight with the Minotaur replays vividly in my mind. Every roar, every crash, every desperate second feels etched into my memory like a bad tattoo. Darren would've had a fit if he knew about it. Hell, he might've come all the way here just to kill me himself for being reckless.
I glance down at my wrists, lifting them slightly toward the dim moonlight streaming through the window. The faint cracks trailing along my skin catch the light, barely noticeable but enough to remind me of the cost. "Not too bad...ish," I murmur, flexing my fingers experimentally. Definitely a sign of magic overuse. Worth it? Yeah, sure—if staying alive counts.
I sniffle slightly and realize I'm also fighting off a mild cold and a fever. Wonderful. Just the cherry on top of my currently "fantastic" existence. Nothing serious, though. It'll probably burn itself out by morning—unless I do something incredibly stupid to make it worse, which, let's be honest, isn't entirely off the table.
Now, you're probably wondering why I'm in this state. Well, here's the thing: my magic doesn't work like Darren's or anyone else's magic that I've seen. For me, it's less of a tool and more of an instinct—like breathing or blinking. It kicks in based on the situation, on what's needed. That's why, during the Minotaur fight, I defaulted to fire and ice. They're the two elements I know I can count on, and the others? Let's just say I don't mess with what I don't fully understand. I didn't want to make things worse.
Not that it mattered. I still overdid it. And that's the catch with my magic. There's always a cost. Push too far past the limit, and the side effects kick in: cracks in my skin, exhaustion, illness—stuff like that. It's why I made one of my golden rules: never push past the threshold unless it's absolutely necessary.
And yeah, I broke that rule during the Minotaur fight. I had no choice. But now, as I sit here feeling like a hot mess, I can't help but wonder if it's always going to be like this—me playing chicken with the limits of my power, hoping I don't completely burn out before the next crisis comes.
The cabin air was thick with silence, the kind that practically begged for distraction. I stood up, stretching lazily as my joints popped and protested. Sleeping was out of the question—I was wide awake now, and with only a couple of hours until sunrise, what was the point in even trying?
Once I finished my half-hearted stretches, a sound made me freeze. The faint click of the cabin door unlocking. Yeah, they had locked me in. For good reason, too—I understood that. Still, hearing that sound meant someone thought I was worth checking in on. The door swung open to reveal Mr. Brunner, finally back in the picture after we left him behind at school.
He was in his wheelchair as usual, but this time, it was being pushed by a girl I hadn't seen before. She was slim, with striking blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that practically glowed in the dim light. There was something magnetic about her presence like she carried some invisible aura of grace. I snapped myself out of it, though—the last thing I needed was to stare like some idiot.
Mr. Brunner rolled to a stop a few feet in front of me, greeting me with a warm but slightly pointed tone. "Ah, Thaddeus. Good to see you up and about. I trust you're feeling better after recent events?" His words carried just a hint of that teacherly concern, but also the weight of something more serious. "Apologies for your current... arrangement, but it's necessary. At least until we've had a chance to discuss a few things."
"Mr. Brunner?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, trying to piece together why he sounded so formal.
He gestured toward the girl behind him. "Before we get into that, allow me to introduce someone. This is Silena Beauregard. And, Thaddeus, do try not to get too distracted." He smirked faintly, making a poor attempt at a joke.
"Uh, hi," I managed to say, feeling a sudden wave of awkwardness. Yep. Great first impression, Thaddeus. Real smooth.
"Hello," she replied, her voice soft, almost melodic. Something about it was unsettlingly... perfect. Like an angel had just descended and decided to bless this awkward exchange.
"Oh, great," I thought.
As Silena turned to leave, she offered a polite but slightly playful farewell. "Bye. Welcome to the camp, by the way..." She paused at the doorway, glancing at Mr. Brunner with a sly, almost conspiratorial smile. "Good luck." Her tone hinted at trouble—or maybe just the sort of challenge only someone like me could bring. With that, she was gone, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
Mr. Brunner sighed, settling into a more serious demeanor. "Now that we have some privacy," he began, wheeling himself a bit closer, "and since you're arguably the most sensible student I've had the pleasure of teaching—perhaps the only sensible one during our time at Yancy, come to think of it." He chuckled, though the weight of the conversation ahead seemed to dull the humor.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, sir," I replied dryly, leaning back against the bedpost.
He smiled faintly. "What do you know about the gods, Thaddeus?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Hmm... let's see. Do you want the full academic essay, complete with citations, or the simple version? Because, either way, the answer is yes. I reckon they exist. And I'd wager not just the Greek ones either—probably every possible pantheon out there if we're being logical about it. I mean, c'mon now." My tone was casual, but I was clearly intrigued by where this was going.
Mr. Brunner's expression froze for a moment as if trying to gauge whether I was joking or being serious. "You've already figured it out," he said, more a statement than a question.
"Of course I have," I replied, crossing my arms. "You don't see Minotaurs running around or hear ancient Greek being spoken casually in modern New York without connecting a few dots. And between Percy's 'water tricks' and Grover's... goat thing, let's just say the evidence is piling up. So, yeah, Greek gods? Real. And honestly, I'm guessing they're a lot more active than anyone would think. Am I wrong?"
Mr. Brunner gave me a long, thoughtful look before nodding. "No, Thaddeus, you're not wrong. Though I must say, it's rare to see someone take this kind of revelation so... calmly."
I shrugged. "What can I say? I've got a good imagination. Plus, when you've got magic of your own, the world already feels like it's off the rails. This just... broadens the scope."
He allowed himself a small smile. "Fair enough. Still, there are nuances to this world that go far beyond imagination. And there's a reason you're here, Thaddeus. More than just Percy's companion on this journey."
"As you know," Mr. Brunner began, his tone measured and grave, "Percy is being accused of stealing Zeus's lightning bolt."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little. "Yeah, I caught that part. But we both know he didn't, right? I mean, Percy? C'mon. The guy doesn't even have the guts to borrow a pen without asking. You're telling me he'd steal something like that? Please."
Mr. Brunner allowed himself a small smile, though it was tinged with tension. "Indeed, I don't believe Percy is guilty. But the fact remains that Zeus believes he is. And that, Thaddeus, puts all of us in a very precarious position."
I leaned forward now, more interested. "Okay, so let's rewind for a second. Why does Zeus think Percy, of all people, would pull this off? I mean, sure, he's got potential—annoying potential—but nothing about him screams 'master thief.'"
Mr. Brunner folded his hands, his expression tightening. "It's not just about Percy, Thaddeus. It's about who he is. You've likely put together by now that Percy isn't just an ordinary demigod. He's the son of Poseidon."
That clicked into place like the final piece of a puzzle. I snapped my fingers. "Ah, there it is. The old family feud drama. Let me guess—Zeus's paranoia is running wild because his older brother's kid might be 'taking sides,' even though the poor guy barely knows how to hold a sword."
"Precisely," Mr. Brunner confirmed. "The gods have their... history of mistrust. Zeus has accused Poseidon of using Percy to settle old scores, despite there being no evidence to support such claims. The bolt's disappearance only fuels that mistrust."
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "Alright, so Zeus is making this about family politics. What else is new? But why the bolt? Why not, I don't know, his crown or something equally gaudy?"
"The master bolt," Mr. Brunner explained, "isn't just any weapon. It is the symbol of Zeus's power, the most potent artifact of the Olympians. Its theft is not just a personal affront to Zeus; it's a threat to the balance of power among the gods. If it's not returned by the summer solstice, war will break out."
I whistled low, impressed despite myself. "No pressure, huh? So what's the plan here? We just waltz up to Olympus, tell Zeus he's wrong, and hope he doesn't smite us next Tuesday?"
"Not quite," Mr. Brunner said, his voice softening. "The gods have no tolerance for mistakes in matters of trust. Percy must prove his innocence by finding the true thief and retrieving the bolt before the solstice."
I crossed my arms, processing the weight of it all. "Okay, fine. But why am I here? I didn't sign up to be part of all this."
Mr. Brunner leaned forward slightly, "Well, you see, Thaddeus... out of all the demigods we've observed—and there have been many—you, by far, are the strangest. Your abilities, your mannerisms, even your aura. Personally, I speculate that you may hail from an outer pantheon, not ours. But... the evidence is insufficient to confirm such a theory."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my seat and folding my arms. "Outer pantheon? That's quite the reach, even for you, sir. Trust me, if I had a clearer origin story, I'd be the first to share it. The truth is, I don't even know my own past that well. Before the orphanage, it was like I didn't exist. No records, no clues, no trace of parents or relatives. It's like someone hit the reset button on me and dropped me off at someone's doorstep."
Brunner's expression didn't waver, but I could see the gears turning in his mind. He didn't interrupt, so I kept going.
"When Darren adopted me, he gave me stability, sure. Yet even he knew there was something... off about me. Not bad, just... different. My magic, for instance—it doesn't align with anything in your books or legends. It's instinctual, chaotic, and frankly, half the time, it feels like it has a mind of its own. You've seen me use fire and ice, right? Tell me—how many demigods do you know that can pull that off without invoking some god or spell?"
He tilted his head slightly, considering my words. "It is... unique, I'll grant you that. Though magic itself has many forms—"
"Yeah, yeah, magic's weird, I get it," I cut him off, shaking my head. "Yet hear me out. What if... and I'm just throwing this out there—what if I'm not even from this universe? What if I'm something completely different?"
That made him pause. For the first time, Mr. Brunner looked genuinely intrigued, "You're suggesting," he said carefully, "that your origins might lie beyond even the reach of Olympus? Or this world as we know it?"
I shrugged, trying to play it off as casual even though the idea sent a small shiver down my spine. "I don't know, man. It's just a hunch. But it makes as much sense as anything else, right? If the gods can hop from Greece to America, who's to say something—or someone—couldn't fall through the cracks between universes?"
Mr. Brunner tapped a finger against his desk, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing the weight of my words. "That would explain certain anomalies in the past," he admitted, almost to himself. "Your lack of a clear lineage. The unorthodox nature of your magic. Even the peculiar energy you exude."
"See?" I spread my hands. "Weird. Even for you guys. I'm not saying I have all the answers, but... what if the reason we can't figure me out is because we're looking in the wrong place?"
He sat back, his expression a mix of curiosity and cautious concern. "If what you suggest holds even a grain of truth, it would make you... significant in ways I can't fully comprehend. Perhaps even dangerous."
I smirked, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Dangerous? Maybe. Or maybe just a guy trying to figure out why he's here, same as everyone else. Either way, I'm not about to sit around waiting for the universe to send me a postcard with all the answers."
Brunner gave a slight nod, his demeanor softening just a fraction. "Well, Thaddeus, you continue to surprise me. Perhaps your origins will reveal themselves in time. For now, I suggest focusing on the challenges at hand."
Before diving into plans and Percy's situation, my curiosity got the better of me. I leaned back, arms crossed, and fixed Mr. Brunner with a questioning look.
"Alright, before we go any further... How exactly do you know about me? My magic, my... capabilities. Darren's been careful about keeping things under wraps, so... spill it."
Mr. Brunner paused, his expression thoughtful. "Ah, yes. Darren Corbit. A cautious man, though perhaps not cautious enough."
I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the arms of his wheelchair. "Thaddeus, you may not realize it, but individuals like yourself leave... traces. A ripple in the fabric of what is considered normal. Your magic, though raw and untrained, has a presence that is difficult to ignore—at least for those of us attuned to such things."
"Wait, so you're telling me you just... sensed me?" I asked, skepticism laced in my voice.
"Not exactly," he replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I had my suspicions long before we met. Reports of unusual magical phenomena, unexplained incidents in your neighborhood—things that couldn't be attributed to ordinary mortals or even demigods. When Darren enrolled you in Yancy Academy, it was my chance to confirm what I already suspected."
"Great," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "So I've been on your radar this whole time."
"Not just mine," he said gravely. "Others are aware of you as well. Some out of curiosity, others out of... less noble intentions."
I stared at him, processing his words. "And you're sure that what I can do is... magic? Like the same kind Percy's dealing with?"
He shook his head slightly. "Your abilities don't align with those of the Greek pantheon, which is precisely why you are so... unique. Darren's instinct to protect you was wise, at any rate your potential is not something that can remain hidden forever."
I leaned back, sighing. "So, what? You think I'm some kind of bomb waiting to blow up?"
Mr. Brunner's expression softened. "Not necessarily, that said you are a piece of a larger puzzle, Thaddeus. One we don't fully understand yet. And that's why your involvement here is both unexpected and... possibly critical."
I nodded slowly, mulling it over. "Alright. But just so we're clear, whatever ripple I'm causing, I didn't ask for it. I didn't choose this."
"I know," he said gently. "Still, it's those who don't choose the path who make the biggest difference."
I let his words sink in, then leaned forward. "Fine. Let's just figure out how to handle this mess. Percy, the bolt, the whole thing. Though for the record, I'm not exactly thrilled about being anyone's 'critical piece.'"
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the wall as if it held the answers to the million questions swirling in my head. "So how are we supposed to pull this off? I mean, realistically," I asked.
Mr. Brunner sighed, "We'll discuss the specifics once Percy wakes up. For now, we wait. Rushing ahead without him would be unwise."
"How's he doing?" I asked, crossing my arms as I shifted in my seat.
"Stable," Mr. Brunner said with a measured nod. "Apart from that, he'll need a few more days to recover fully."
I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. "A few days? That's cutting it close, isn't it? We don't have the luxury of time. Whatever's happening to Percy—it's happening now. And whether I like it or not, I'm tied to this whole mess." I paused, my voice softening. "I just hope my presence doesn't make things worse. Feels like everything I touch has a fifty-fifty chance of going sideways."
Mr. Brunner's gaze sharpened as he studied me. "That is precisely what concerns me, Thaddeus. Your arrival... let's just say it was not anticipated. You may very well be a variable in this equation—a significant one."
Great, just what I wanted to hear. "Yeah, well, let's hope my variable-ness doesn't blow up in our faces," I said dryly. "Last thing we need is for this to spiral before the main event."
Brunner didn't reply, but the weight of his silence said enough. It wasn't reassuring.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Alright then, how much longer do I have to stay cooped up in here? No offense, but staring at these walls is starting to feel like a punishment."
He chuckled softly, the sound carrying a rare warmth. "You'll be free to leave once the sun rises. Until then, I suggest you get some rest."
With that, the conversation drifted into a stillness that felt heavier than the air around us. The quiet hum of the camp outside seeped through the room, blending with the distant chirp of crickets. I stared out the window, letting my thoughts swirl for a moment before speaking again.
"Can you... keep this between us?" I asked, my voice low but firm.
Mr. Brunner arched a brow, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Keep what, exactly?"
I shifted my gaze back to him, leaning slightly against the window frame. "You know... my claims about my origins. Whatever I might be, wherever I might've come from. I'd rather not make it a campfire story. Let's just keep it under wraps, for now. Like the 'less I know, the better' kind of thing."
He regarded me for a long moment as if weighing the weight of my request. "Ah, yes," he said finally.
"It's not just about safety," I countered, crossing my arms. "It's about simplicity. People don't need another puzzle piece thrown into the mix right now. They've got enough on their plates."
Mr. Brunner nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough. Despite that, let me offer a word of caution, Thaddeus. Secrets like this? They have a way of unraveling when you least expect it. And when they do... the fallout can be significant. Especially for someone like you."
I gave a humorless chuckle, shaking my head. "Yeah, well, that's a bridge I'll cross if I ever get there. Right now, I've got bigger things to worry about."
"Still... let's not advertise it, alright? I don't need every power-hungry force in the universe sniffing around for me." I said with a sigh, glancing back out the window.
He gave a small, approving nod. "As you wish."
As Mr. Brunner wheeled himself toward the door, I noticed Silena stepping in to assist him again. She glanced at me, a soft smile playing on her lips. Instinctively, I returned it, though my thoughts drifted elsewhere. "Yup, definitely a daughter of Aphrodite," I mused internally. "Note to self: figure out if there's some kind of anti-psychological-manipulation spell or... whatever it's called. Gotta have a safeguard against that charm magic or... charm whatever."
Mr. Brunner paused in the doorway, giving me one last look of reassurance. "We'll leave you to rest. If there's anything you need, Thaddeus, don't hesitate to ask," he said, his tone calm yet encouraging.
"See you around camp," Silena added, her voice light, with an undertone of warmth that I couldn't quite place.
I watched them exit, the door swinging slightly as they left it wide open. The sound of their footsteps faded as they disappeared down the path outside. I stood there for a moment, staring at the open doorway. It was... odd. The gesture felt deliberate, like a test—one to see if I'd stay put or bolt the first chance I got.
I leaned against the doorframe, peering into the quiet camp. The air was still, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. A part of me wanted to step out, stretch my legs, and explore beyond this confined cabin. But I knew better. Running wouldn't get me any answers—only more trouble.