Lucas lingered at the hearth even after Hecate and the others drifted a few steps ahead. The warmth lapped at him, not the stifling burn of flame, but the calm, steady heat that soaked bone-deep and settled the ache he'd been carrying since the Labyrinth.
A name stirred at the edge of his thoughts, a name that not only echoed how he felt but also a promise, a symbolic name of what the city would represent.
Elysian.
A paradise in a place of darkness, a home all would love to settle in.
What he didn't expect was for his sequence six potion to shift. After so long, and despite many attempts to digest it by exploring his abilities, he finally felt the change. After coming up with the name for the city, it seemed to be the answer; now he confirmed he had digested two-thirds of the potion, leaving a small sliver to digest. While he doesn't know the reason behind the digestion, he has discovered a pattern.
The first digestion occurred after hearing his mother's thoughts and her silent hope for his future, and the second just now happened due to naming the city. While he couldn't confirm his guess, he believed that when the final touches of the city were complete, his potion would be truly fully digested, and he could finally move on to sequence five.
He glanced over everyone, his mother finally taking charge from Annabeth as the tour came to an end. At the same time, Annabeth hung her head low in embarrassment and walked slowly behind, with Thalia wrapping her arm around the girl's shoulder and teasing her for taking over the tour Hecate was taking them on. Luke casually walked behind both girls, smirking at the exchange, while Elizabeth held back, looking over the nearby buildings and making sure Lucas wouldn't stray too far back from the group.
Looking over everyone, a thought flickered in his mind. Where's Harold?
He quickly caught up to Hecate and asked where Harold was.
"Doing a task, since you left, there have been rampant attacks; my wards protect the actual city, so it remains safe; however, the materials that need to be transported in are the targets, so to protect them, Harold volunteered to protect them."
Lucas raised a brow. "Volunteered?"
Her smile sharpened. "He insisted."
...
Flashback
Tekto stood hunched over a map in the half-finished marketplace, his voice raised in irritation, the table trembled and cracked with every slam of his fist.
"We're behind schedule. If nothing is done to stop those beasts, then this city will never be complete." Veins appeared across his flesh as he struggled against his anger. "They target the wagons, destroying the supplies without regard, even with the automatons I sent to protect the supplies, they are getting destroyed, further slowing down the construction. Something needs to be done."
While Tekto was voicing his anger, the three goddesses didn't take offense at the tone, understanding it wasn't directed towards them, though even if it were, Hestia would still carry the warm smile she always had.
Nemesis, at the table's far end, tilted her head. "Let him handle it," she said.
She gestured past the gate, where Harold's massive shadow lay curled half-buried in dry leaves, asleep ever since Lucas brought him here. The only time the beast woke was to eat; afterward, he would return straight to sleep.
Hecate met Nemesis' gaze with a chilling smirk.
...
'He hated it here.
The squeak of the wheels was an incessant annoyance to his ears; the metal things were too slow, causing him to lumber along.
He wanted to sleep.
When the master was here, he took care of him. Food. Sleep. Fun fights.
But that woman was scary. Made him work. Without master to protect him, she was too powerful to ignore.'
While Harold was complaining to himself, he caught a scent of other beasts closing in.
The drakon's tail stopped dragging along the ground, having left a scar in the earth, and instead it started slowly wagging in anticipation. Drool dripped from a grin of fangs; his meal was here.
The Drakon began imagining what beast was approaching. Hoping it was gryphons, for Harold loved them the most: the soft crunch of bones, the sweet burn of ichor on the tongue, and the chicken tasting meat.
Staring at where he discovered the scent to come from, Harold found it wasn't the gryphons he was expecting but some hellhounds instead. His tail stopped wagging, and the grin disappeared. These little things were slippery, making eating them an annoying task, and their taste wasn't nice; it tasted of overly smoked beef and was too chewy, nothing like gryphon.
While he managed to eat the last hellhound finally, it took too long for his preference, causing Harold to return to his lumbering, brooding over his situation.
This soon changed, for his senses caught a large monster tearing through the trees and heading straight for him. This perked up his mood. A large monster meant a big fight and more meat. Such thoughts ran through Harold's mind as he charged towards the monster, ensuring the supplies would be damaged as an aftereffect of the battle.
Harold knew what he would face: a hydra. His second favourite meal. Their meat was perfectly smoked, giving a taste of barbecue, and with no chewiness. He finally spotted the hydra, its serpent-like heads breaking through the trees, swaying in a chaotic dance. Harold didn't slow; instead, he sped up, charging into and ramming the hydra, sending it stumbling backward as the ground shuddered from the force.
Though the body was pushed back, the heads struck, jaws unhinged, and plunged towards the drakon's neck, but all that did was create some sparks, for the scales acted as armor, stopping the teeth from reaching flesh. One head recoiled with a snapped fang as a consequence.
Harold lunged, a mountain of muscle, splintering trees as he clamped his fangs deep into the neck of one of the heads, tugging and shaking his head in hopes of tearing it off.
The hydra shrieked, already, the flesh splitting at the edges, nearly ripping the neck from the body. Figuring the only way to save its head was to have Harold release it, the remaining heads coiled around Harold, constricting him and tightening, hoping the force would be enough to crush the drakon's bones. The ground dipped under their bulk, as a contest of will was enacted.
Harold's eyes rolled bloodshot and wild. His spines flared, scraping the Hydra's scales raw and bloody. He let out a growl as he tore the head off, leaving a bloody stump. The pain caused the Hydra to freeze, loosening the constriction enough for Harold to swat the beast with its tail, sending it crashing into the forest and granting Harold freedom.
While the Hydra staggered onto its feet, the bloody stump started wriggling, but that was put to an end as a blast of concentrated acid sprayed onto the wound, burning it closed, the pain causing the hydra to rear back and hiss from the remaining heads.
With no way to effectively harm the drakon, the hydra was soon killed. Harold tore each head off and sprayed the wound with acid to force it closed, stopping any heads from regrowing. By now, this area of forest had turned into a clearing, with churned mud and shattered trees.
Harold lowered himself, chest heaving. He spat once at the carcass, a drakon's dismissive laugh. He bit into the carcass and dragged it back to the city, the supplies already at the gate where the cyclops and goddesses gathered, watching the drakon prance back with his meal.