[Third Person POV]
Lucian and the rest of the group soon parked by the docks, the gentle sway of the ship rocking them slightly as they prepared to disembark. The sea breeze carried the faint scent of salt and hibiscus from the distant shore, the soft crash of waves echoing against the wooden posts. Annabeth, standing near the railing, looked at everyone with a questioning expression.
"Is there any reason why we really need to get off? Can't we just keep going?" she asked, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face as her eyes lingered on the coastline.
"Well, for starters," Percy said, already stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders, "it's not exactly healthy staying cooped up in one place for days on end. And secondly—" he paused, glancing toward the others with a half-grin, "—I want a proper bath."
Annabeth turned to him incredulously. "Not exactly healthy? Percy, we're demigods. You're literally the son of the sea god—how could you possibly get sick in your ho turf?"
Percy only rolled his eyes and stepped past her toward the exit ramp. "I wasn't talking about myself, Wise Girl. Not everyone here has the sa immunity I do. Besides," his tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious, "we don't know what kind of ss Grover's gotten himself into. I want everyone in top shape and stocked on whatever supplies we might need."
Thalia crossed her arms, her electric-blue eyes narrowing with amusent. "I honestly expected you to be the one diving headfirst into danger without thinking—especially for Grover."
"Well, surprisingly Grover isn't exactly the one that's in most danger right now," Percy muttered, lowering his voice as his gaze shifted toward the front of the group where Lucian stood silently. "I trust Grover. He's resourceful. He can hold his own until we get there. But Lucian… he's the one I'm not sure about."
Thalia gave him a knowing look but said nothing as they joined the others, walking down the wooden plank toward the dock where a woman stood waiting for them, clipboard in hand.
"Welco!" the woman greeted with a bright, professional smile. She looked like she had just stepped off an airplane rather than waiting by a magical dock—dressed in a crisp blue business suit, flawless makeup, and her hair pulled tightly into a sleek ponytail. One by one, she shook their hands as they stepped onto the dock. "Is this your first ti with us?" she asked in a sweet, rehearsed tone.
Lucian stepped forward, his posture calm and confident. "It is," he replied smoothly, his voice carrying a faint edge of authority. "So, if you would kindly lead us to Lady Circe, I wish to et with her."
The mont his words left his mouth, everyone—including the clipboard woman and even Scylla—froze.
"W-What?" Scylla stamred, her tone a mix of disbelief and panic. "Lucian, did you just say Circe?"
Thalia blinked, her grip tightening on her spear. "Hold up. Circe? As in the Circe? What do you an by that?"
Lucian looked at them as if they had missed sothing painfully obvious. "Aren't you aware of where we even docked?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
Scylla's eyes widened, her face draining of color. "We need to get out of here…" she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling.
Lucian turned toward her, his expression softening slightly. "Don't worry," he said calmly, "I won't let her touch you. You have my word."
Scylla hesitated, visibly torn between fear and reluctant trust, but finally nodded.
Clarisse stepped forward, glaring at Lucian. "Alright, then maybe you can enlighten us. Where exactly are we right now?"
Lucian exhaled a deep sigh, glancing between them and the uneasy clipboard woman. "You're telling ," he said with an incredulous half-smile, "that you all docked here without actually figuring out where 'here' is?"
A few of them exchanged sheepish glances. Annabeth's lips pressed into a thin line as Lucian added with mock disappointnt, "I expected this from the others, but et tu, Annabeth?"
Annabeth scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well, sorry that my mind was a little preoccupied—thanks to a certain soone who enjoys reckless decisions."
Percy raised a brow. "You still haven't said where we are," he reminded, glancing around. The island was stunning—lush palm trees, marble villas gleaming under the sun, and the faint sound of laughter echoing from a nearby resort.
Lucian finally relented with a quiet sigh. "We're on Circe's Island," he said. "The Island of Aeaea."
The attendant's expression shifted instantly, her polite smile vanishing as she studied Lucian more closely. The warmth in her tone vanished, replaced by cold suspicion. "Who are you," she demanded, "and why would you seek out Lady C.C.?"
Lucian smiled faintly, his eyes glimring with faint amusent. "I'm just a fellow witch," he said, raising his hand slightly as a small wisp of green-blue light danced between his fingers. "One who seeks the counsel of the Immortal Sorceress herself."
The attendant studied them in silence for a long mont, her expression unreadable. Her sharp eyes flicked from person to person, lingering on Annabeth just long enough to make her shift uncomfortably before the woman finally turned on her heel.
"Follow ," she said crisply.
The group exchanged uneasy glances, but no one argued. Their footsteps echoed softly against the polished stone as they followed her down the gleaming path that led deeper into the resort.
Everywhere they looked, the place shimred with unnatural beauty. White marble stretched across every terrace, glowing under the sunlight, while brilliant blue water flowed like living glass through pools and fountains. Terraces climbed the sides of the mountain, tier after tier, each one boasting shimring swimming pools connected by waterslides, crystal waterfalls, and glassy underwater tunnels that glowed faintly from within.
Fountains burst to life in impossible shapes — one ford the elegant outline of a soaring eagle, another sculpted a galloping horse in mid-stride. The sight was breathtaking.
"Horsies!!!" Tyson exclaid in pure, childlike wonder. His eyes widened as he pointed at the water-shapes dancing in the air.
Percy couldn't help but smile, though he quickly reached out to grab Tyson's wrist before the Cyclops could wander off. "Easy, big guy," he said, tugging him back toward the group. "Let's stick together, okay? No running off."
Tyson nodded obediently, though his wide grin never faded.
As they continued walking, Percy tried to keep him entertained by pointing out the animals lounging around the resort. A massive sea turtle snoozed peacefully on a pile of neatly folded beach towels. A sleek leopard stretched lazily across a diving board, letting out a quiet yawn before curling back up for another nap. The air was thick with the scent of sea salt and honeyed fruit, warm and almost intoxicating.
Thalia slowed her pace as her eyes swept across the lounging guests. She frowned. Every single one of them was young—and every single one was female. Won of all shapes and backgrounds filled the terraces, sipping colorful smoothies, reading glossy magazines, or chatting casually as manicurists in spotless white uniforms tended to their nails. Herbal masks covered their faces, glowing faintly in the sunlight.
"Uh… is it just ," Thalia muttered, "or are there no guys here?"
Lucian, who had been silent for a while, finally turned his head. His crimson eyes glinted faintly under the sun. "Oh, right," he said, glancing at Percy and Tyson. "You two. Don't drink anything they give you."
Percy blinked, confused. "Wait—what? Why not?"
Lucian's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "If you're that curious, go ahead and drink. You'll find out soon enough."
Percy laughed nervously, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Yeah, no thanks. I'll, uh… take your word for it."
The attendant said nothing, though her gaze lingered briefly on Lucian before she turned and began climbing a grand staircase that wound upward toward the heart of the resort. The group followed, their sandals clinking softly against the marble steps.
As they climbed, the air grew warr, perfud with the scent of jasmine and seawater. Then they heard it—soft at first, like a whisper carried in the wind.
A woman's voice, humming a haunting lody. The tune swelled gradually into song, a lullaby sung in ancient Greek, each note dripping with sweetness.
Percy and the others slowed as if under a spell, their expressions softening. One by one, they began drifting toward the sound, their eyes unfocused, their steps unsteady.
"Hey—hey!" Thalia called, grabbing Percy's shoulder, but even her voice faltered as the lody reached her ears.
Lucian gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay grounded. Even he could feel the pull—the charm woven into every note, wrapping around his mind like velvet chains.
"Just how powerful is her voice…?" Annabeth groaned, clutching her head as she tried to fight it. "It feels like I'm going to lose control."
Lucian's tone was calm, though his eyes glimred with reluctant admiration. "Her singing is infused with charmspeak," he said. "And she's… quite skilled at it, to say the least."
"Give a mont," the attendant said quietly before disappearing through a pair of ornate golden doors. The group waited outside, the last echoes of the song fading into the still air.
When the music finally stopped, the attendant returned, her expression once again perfectly composed. She opened the door with a polite gesture. "You may enter."
The mont they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. A wave of magic rippled through the air, and in an instant, fire erupted from every direction.
Spheres of fla streaked across the room like falling stars, slamming into the ground around them with explosive force. The floor trembled beneath their feet as bursts of heat and smoke filled the chamber.
Percy instinctively drew his trident, his eyes wide. "What the hell was that for?!" he shouted over the crackling fire.
When the smoke cleared, Lucian stood in front of the group, one hand raised. A shimring, dark red forcefield pulsed around them, absorbing the last flickers of fla before fading into the air.
"Stand down, you guys," Lucian said with a sigh, lowering his hand.
At the far end of the chamber stood a woman—tall, elegant, and impossibly beautiful. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves down her back. A faint smirk touched her lips as she regarded them.
"dea's kid?" she asked, her voice smooth as silk.
Lucian froze, montarily taken aback. He hadn't even removed his helt yet. "How did you know?" he asked, amusent creeping into his tone.
Circe's smile widened, her gaze sharp and knowing. "Your magic," she said softly. "It reeks of her influence."
Lucian chuckled, resting a hand over his chest with mock offense. "Reeks is such a harsh word," he said, his grin widening. "But I'll take that as a complint."
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