[Third Person POV]
Lucian stood drenched in bile, the viscous muck slid sluggishly down from his chestplate, dripping onto the stone floor with wet splats. Each breath he took came out as a low growl, heavy with disgust and restrained fury. His brows, hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet, twitched in irritation as the sound of Thalia's and Annabeth's laughter filled the cavern.
A low hum resonated from Lucian's body before black flames erupted along his shoulders, swirling violently as they spread across his form. The hellfire licked at every inch of his armor, consuming the bile with a hiss that filled the air with the stench of burning rot. The fire crawled downward in a spiraling motion, reaching his boots before surging outward across the floor, searing away every last trace of the vomit. In moments, only scorched stone remained beneath him.
Scylla gulped audibly, her throat tightening as she instinctively took a step back. The figure before her no longer looked human—Lucian stood wreathed in darkness and flame, the flickering black fire outlining his silhouette like the shadow of an executioner. The only features that could be seen through the inferno were his eyes: two crimson slits glowing with cold, predatory rage that made her knees weaken.
"That's the thanks I get," Lucian rasped, his voice hoarse and deep, layered with the faint distortion of his magic. "Out of the goodness of my heart, I help you… and you repay me by puking on me? Truly, virtue is never rewarded with virtue."
"W–Wait just a second—!" Scylla stammered, panic rising in her voice as she threw her hands forward defensively. Her skin prickled with fear when she saw black energy condense in Lucian's palm, forming the long, curved shape of a red-and-black scythe.
Lucian twirled the weapon once around his wrist, the motion fluid and terrifyingly precise, before taking a single, heavy step forward. "One," he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of judgment. A burst of fire exploded beneath his feet as he lunged forward, scythe raised high, the air itself trembling from the heat of his power.
The cave shook with the deafening sound of thunder as Scylla screamed and shut her eyes, bracing for death. But before the scythe could reach her, a sharp crack of lightning split the air. Sparks danced as Thalia appeared in front of Scylla, her lightning-forged gauntlet raised, catching the full force of Lucian's swing.
"Lucian—pfft—look, I get that you're mad," Thalia said, barely holding back her laughter even as the weapon pressed against her palm. Her lips quivered in amusement. "But you can't kill her!"
Lucian's flames flared brighter, his glare piercing through the haze of smoke. The scythe trembled between them, his grip tightening as his patience waned. "Oh yeah?" he growled through clenched teeth. "And why exactly can't I?"
"Because," Thalia snorted, unable to stop giggling, "then you would've gone through all that trouble healing her for nothing. Plus, didn't you say she was Medusa's sister?"
Lucian paused for a heartbeat, the fire dimming slightly as his expression turned colder. "She won't mourn a sister she never met," he replied flatly, his crimson gaze narrowing with detached indifference.
Scylla, trembling behind Thalia, hesitated before reaching out and clutching the girl's shoulder. Peeking from behind her protector, she offered Lucian a small, trembling smile full of shame and remorse. "I… I'm really sorry for my inappropriate behavior," she said, her voice shaky but sincere. "I didn't mean to! You helped me more than anyone ever has, and I just— I couldn't control it. It was involuntary, I swear. Please don't take it the wrong way…"
Lucian only responded with a deep, guttural growl, his eyes narrowing even further as Scylla recoiled back behind Thalia like a frightened child.
"Come on, Lucian," Annabeth chimed in, still giggling as she held up her phone. Her grin widened as she scrolled through the photos she'd taken. "Lay off her, will you? It's not like she meant to throw up on you. Besides," she added with a smirk, "you were the one who fed her the antidote in the first place."
Lucian's jaw tightened, and his flames flickered erratically. He wanted to argue, but he couldn't find the words. The scythe in his hands trembled as he forced himself to exhale slowly. Annabeth, as usual, had a point—and he hated that she did.
For a long moment, he stared at Scylla. She stood there, trembling, her wide eyes glistening with guilt. After a tense silence, Lucian finally huffed, his flames dying down.
"Consider yourself fortunate," he muttered, sliding his hand down as the weapon reformed into the ring around his finger. "If it weren't for them, your punishment would've been eternal servitude—as a shadow in my army."
Scylla's eyes widened in relief. "Y-Yes! Thank you! Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, bowing her head in gratitude.
Lucian crossed his arms, his tone dripping with disinterest. "Whatever," he muttered.
"Now we have to figure out what to do with her," Thalia said at last, folding her arms and glancing over her shoulder toward Scylla.
Annabeth tilted her head, thoughtful. "Maybe we can take her with us? She is kind of our responsibility now, after all. I mean, Lucian did help her."
Thalia snorted, giving Annabeth a sidelong glance. "What is she, a stray dog? She's both an adult and a Nymph. I don't think we need to take responsibility for her. She can take care of herself."
Lucian exhaled sharply, the sound halfway between annoyance and exhaustion. With a brief flick of his hand, his helmet dissolved into mist. His damp, raven-black hair clung stubbornly to his forehead, strands plastered against his pale skin. He ran a gloved hand through it, brushing it back in frustration as a low sigh escaped him.
"How annoying," he muttered, voice heavy with fatigue.
The moment he did, both Thalia and Annabeth heard a sudden, sharp intake of breath behind them. They turned simultaneously, confused by the sound.
Scylla stood frozen, her fingers digging tightly into Thalia's shoulder. Her wide sea-green eyes glimmered with awe and disbelief. Her lips parted as if she'd forgotten how to breathe. The world around her seemed to fall away—the sound of dripping water, the scent of burnt bile, even the faint crackle of Lucian's lingering flames—all of it faded into nothing. There was only him.
For the first time, she saw Lucian's face unobscured.
And to her, he was the most beautiful boy she had ever laid eyes on.
His skin was pale, almost ghostly, but it carried an ethereal softness that made it seem sculpted from moonlight. His black hair, wild and unkempt, pointed in every direction, making him look effortlessly rugged. When he ruffled it in irritation, it somehow only made him appear more handsome. The faint glint of his snaggletooth caught her attention—pointing down like a sharp fang due to his irritated snarl.
But what truly captivated her were his eyes. Crimson, vivid, and deep as burning rubies, they seemed to shimmer with a light that could pierce through shadows. And the dark armor he wore, still faintly glowing with the remnants of black fire, made him look like something caught between myth and nightmare—part knight in shining armor, part dark, fallen prince.
Scylla's heart fluttered violently in her chest. Her voice came out as a trembling whisper, barely audible even to herself. "How… how beautiful…"
Lucian turned his head slightly, catching a fragment of her murmur. His brows furrowed. "What?" he asked flatly, clearly not catching the words but sensing her tone.
"N-Nothing!" Scylla stammered, quickly looking down, her cheeks burning pink as she clutched the hem of her sleeve. Her heart raced, her pulse drumming in her ears.
Thalia blinked once. Then twice. Her eyes darted between Scylla—whose expression looked like that of a love-struck schoolgirl—and Lucian, who was entirely oblivious, busy shoving various alchemical instruments back into his shadow mimic's gaping maw.
"No," Thalia muttered, her face scrunching. "No. No fucking way." Her brows twitched, disbelief mixing with mild disgust. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me…"
Annabeth, however, went completely still. Her pupils shrank, her posture stiffened, and when she spoke, her tone carried an icy venom. "Thalia," she said coldly, her voice lowering several degrees, "you should've let Lucian plunge his scythe into her."
Thalia glanced back at her, taken aback by the sudden frost in her tone. "What?"
But Annabeth wasn't joking. Her jaw tightened as she glared at Scylla, who was still half-hiding behind Thalia, staring dreamily at Lucian like a lovestruck maiden out of some cheesy romance novel.
Scylla, for her part, didn't even register the tension. Her gaze remained fixed on Lucian as he worked, the way his hands moved with deliberate, confident precision. She could practically see feathers—dark, beautiful raven feathers—falling around him in her mind's eye.
"Hey," Thalia snapped, "you were the one that convinced Lucian not to kill her! Don't start blaming me now!"
Annabeth exhaled through her nose, clearly struggling to keep her composure. "Yeah, and that," she hissed, "is a decision I'm already seriously starting to regret."
She reached into her pouch and pulled out her dagger,
"Annabeth!" Thalia groaned, grabbing her friend's wrist before she could do anything stupid. "Relax! You can't just stab every girl that looks at him."
Annabeth's glare didn't soften, but she reluctantly lowered the blade as Thalia guided her hand down.
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