[Third Person Pov]
"Bon appétit," Lucian announced with a teasing smirk as he was already seated at a grand, banquet-like table. The spread before him looked like something out of a royal feast — a dazzling assortment of dishes from countless cuisines, though the majority had a distinctly Greek touch. Platters of roasted lamb glistened with golden glaze, steaming bowls of lemon-scented soup lined the center, while olives, cheeses, and honey-drizzled pastries decorated every spare inch of the polished table.
The scent alone was enough to bewitch the senses. It drifted through the halls of the ship like an invisible siren, coaxing everyone toward the dining area. The smell of warm bread, herbs, and rich spices mixed with the faint salt of the sea air.
Naturally, the first one to claim a seat across from Lucian was Percy, Lucian's number one fan when it came to his cooking. He was grinning ear to ear, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Tyson followed close behind, plopping down beside his brother, already drooling as the savory aroma washed over him.
"Why does it actually smell good?" Hylla asked suspiciously, her brow furrowing as if she were trying to solve some ancient mystery. "How are you a boy and able to cook? That should be impossible."
Lucian sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes as he speared a piece of meat with his fork. "Unlike what Aunt Circe has been drilling into your head for years, not every male is as incompetent as you were made to believe."
After paying their tributes to the gods the group finally began to eat. Percy, unsurprisingly, was the first to dig in. "Mmmh," he hummed loudly, chewing with blissful exaggeration. "Lucian, you'll make a great wife someday."
Lucian didn't even look up as he raised his middle finger, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.
Meanwhile, Scylla sat quietly between Lucian and Thalia. The former monster looked down at the plate in front of her with a strange, almost reverent expression. The vibrant colors of the food reflected in her wide eyes — golden bread, emerald herbs, ruby-red sauce — yet she hesitated, hands hovering uncertainly above her utensils.
"Well? Are you going to eat?" Thalia asked, nudging her gently.
"Right… sorry," Scylla murmured. She picked up the fork and knife clumsily, as though she were handling weapons she had never trained with. Her grip was awkward, unsure — the movements of someone who hadn't eaten like this in a very, very long time.
Lucian noticed her struggle and exchanged a glance with Thalia before they quietly helped guide her. Once she understood how to use them, Scylla cut a small piece, brought it to her lips, and took her first bite.
The reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened slightly, and then, without warning, tears began to slip down her cheeks. She took another bite, then another, her lips trembling as she chewed, trying to contain the emotion welling up inside her.
The laughter around the table faded as everyone slowly turned toward her. The only sound was the soft clinking of cutlery and the faint sniffling from Scylla as droplets of tears fell onto the wooden table.
"Are you okay?" Tyson asked gently, his large eye full of worry.
Scylla swallowed, nodding quickly and wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I'm fine. I'm sorry… I just—" her voice cracked slightly. "I can't remember the last time I had something that tasted this good."
The words hit harder than she probably intended. For a moment, the entire table fell into a respectful silence, the only thing filling the space being the soft roll of the ocean waves outside.
Lucian smiled faintly, his tone softening. "Then eat as much as you like," he said warmly. "I made enough for seconds… maybe even thirds."
Scylla managed a small, teary grin before diving back into her food, her cheeks puffed full as everyone resumed their meal — lighter this time.
…
Days passed, the ship gliding smoothly across the endless blue expanse. During that time, Lucian and the others established a rhythm. The sisters — Hylla and Reyna — were thrown into a grueling training regimen under Clarisse and Thalia's supervision. And as daughters of a war goddess, their potential was unmistakable.
Despite having little experience, their instincts were sharp and their movements disciplined. They absorbed every lesson like sponges, learning the way of the blade, the balance of footwork, and the rhythm of combat. Each day, their sparring sessions grew fiercer, the clang of steel echoing across the deck like thunder. They didn't just fight against Lucian's summoned shadow soldiers but against nearly everyone on board — Annabeth, Thalia, Clarisse, even Percy.
Meanwhile, Scylla remained Lucian's shadow — following him everywhere he went, always a few steps behind, quiet but ever-present. She sat nearby when he meditated, lingered when he cooked.
Lucian, for his part, tolerated it — or perhaps secretly didn't mind as much as he pretended to. Still, her constant presence often left him sighing or rolling his eyes.
Now, in the calm glow of late afternoon, Lucian hovered in the air near the upper deck that overlooked the sea. His legs were crossed as the ship sailed smoothly beneath him. Before him floated a crystal sphere, spinning slowly in midair, filled with swirling light and mist.
"What exactly have you been doing?" Scylla asked softly, settling herself beside Lucian on the wooden deck. The sea breeze tousled her hair as she crossed her legs to mirror his posture, trying to imitate the way he sat floating just above the planks. Her eyes wandered to the crystal sphere hovering before him.
"I've been training," Lucian said quietly, his tone steady and calm, eyes still closed. His voice carried a hint of fatigue, but also focus, "Training to create spells."
"Spells?" Scylla echoed, tilting her head slightly. Her curiosity was genuine; she leaned forward a little, trying to peek into the orb as if it might reveal some secret. "What do you mean by that?"
"They're like... special commands," Lucian explained, finally opening one eye and giving her a faint smile before looking back to the sphere. "Commands that guide magic into obeying a very specific structure or effect. I noticed something during my fight with Aunt Circe, I'm still lacking in a lot more ways than I'd like to admit."
Scylla blinked, taken aback. "What? But you were incredible back there!" she insisted, genuine admiration in her tone. "You were so strong — you even forced her to use her Divine Form! How can you say you're lacking?"
Lucian let out a faint chuckle, but there was no pride in it — only reflection. "In terms of raw power, yeah," he admitted, "I can't complain. I've got enough magical energy to go toe-to-toe with gods if I push myself hard enough. But that's all it is — raw energy. I've been getting by on brute strength and instinct. During that battle, all I really did was hurl energy blasts and barriers until something worked. It was more chaos than control. I'm clearly lacking in technique when it comes to magic"
He exhaled slowly, the air shimmering faintly around his hands. "That kind of power might be enough for now, but it won't last forever."
Scylla listened intently, her expression thoughtful. "So… when you say 'techniques,' are you saying spells and techniques are basically the same thing?"
"In a way, yes," Lucian replied, his tone shifting into something more instructive — patient, almost teacher-like. "Think of it like this: in martial arts, people learn specific forms and movements to maximize their strength and timing. A master doesn't just punch harder — they punch smarter. Every movement has meaning and purpose. Magic is no different. Spells are the techniques of sorcery — structured movements, words, and symbols that allow you to draw the most out of what you already have."
He gestured faintly with his hand, and the orb rippled as if responding to his thoughts. "Before, I was obsessed with learning as many forms of magic as possible — elemental manipulation, enchantments, shadow control, trap magic, you name it. I thought the more abilities I collected, the stronger I'd be. But that mindset was flawed. I spread myself too thin, trying to master everything and perfecting nothing. I already have many ideas but I don't really have enough time to create them."
He looked down at his hands resting on his knees. His fingers trembled faintly, almost imperceptibly, but enough that Scylla noticed. The faint shimmer of magic that surrounded him flickered, unstable for just a moment.
Inside, Lucian grimaced, the calm mask barely holding. 'I can already feel it… the numbness spreading. My fingers are starting to lose their response. A few more hours, and I won't be able to move them at all.'
He flexed his hands slightly, though the motion felt sluggish. 'Once my hands go, it'll be my arms… then my organs, my lungs, my heart… everything.'
A flicker of unease crossed his expression, quickly hidden behind another steady breath.
Scylla tilted her head, noticing the distant look in his eyes. "Lucian? Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
He forced a small smile, turning back toward the horizon. "Yeah," he said softly. "Just… thinking."
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