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Percy walked over to his wooden workbench, the surface cluttered with tools, half-finished projects, and stray bits of parchment. He picked up a clean, crisp piece of paper.
He held it up in one hand, his bronze-tipped wand steady in the other. 'Okay,' he thought, taking a deep breath to clear his mind. 'Something simple to start with. Origami. Let's try to make this flat piece of paper into... a horse.'
Percy focused hard, really hard. The idea of intent being the key was at the very front of his mind now. He pictured the paper folding itself, creasing and shaping, transforming into a small, standing horse.
He thought the spell, Origami Equus, and waved his wand with a precise flick. And suddenly, the paper flipped up into the air, twisted, and folded itself rapidly.
But when it settled back into his open hand, it wasn't just a horse. It was a perfect little paper pegasus, complete with delicate, folded wings.
Percy held the tiny winged horse in his palm and let out a small sigh. 'Damn it,' he thought, a little frustrated but also a little impressed.
'I was definitely going for a normal horse, no wings.' It was a mistake, technically, but it was a mistake that was welcomed.
It had worked, and it had responded to what was clearly dominating his mind his love for pegasi, for Blackjack.
He tried again, with another piece of paper, this time really focusing on just a horse, four legs, no wings. And this time, it turned into a perfect, wingless paper horse.
A slow smile spread across Percy's face. 'Okay,' he thought, feeling a new surge of excitement. 'Time to see what I can really do with this intent stuff.'
He whispered a simple animation spell, one he'd struggled with before, but this time he poured his intent into it, wanting the paper horse to move, to live.
And suddenly, the tiny paper horse let out a soft, papery neigh! It jumped right out of his hand and started running around on his cluttered workbench, its tiny paper legs moving just like a real horse's would. Percy understood then.
The little neighing sound was produced by the magic he had poured into it, shaped by his expectation of what a horse should do. The legs moved in a way Percy expected them to move because he pictured a real horse running.
'I wonder...' Percy's eyes drifted to the pile of spare parchment littered across his table.
A wide, mischievous grin spread across his face as he grabbed a whole stack of it. He made a little paper human figure first, then animated him to chase down and try to ride the paper horse.
He made a little paper dog, all wagging tail and floppy ears, and animated it to bark and chase them both.
Then he made a paper bird that could actually fly, flapping its paper wings and circling above the tiny scene.
And finally, just for fun, he made a little paper cat to sit curled up in one corner of the table, peacefully asleep… what? It was accurate, wasn't it? Cats mostly slept.
Percy grinned, absolutely delighted, as he watched his little paper creations run and play all around his workbench.
The paper man finally managed to get onto the paper horse and rode it around in circles, while the paper dog chased them both, letting out tiny, enthusiastic paper barks.
The paper bird circled high above them all, chirping away with tiny paper peeps. And the cat… well, you know, it just kept sleeping soundly.
Percy watched the paper bird closely. His magic had responded to his intent he pictured a flying bird, so the spell animated the paper bird to actually fly, not just hop around.
That made Percy wonder, just how far could he push this animation spell? What were its limits now that he understood about intent?
Curious, Percy took another, larger piece of parchment and focused again, his mind sharp. He pictured the miniature dragon that Kelly, the tiny Veela, loved to chase, the one that looked like a Hungarian Horntail.
He transformed the paper into a perfect, scaly paper dragon. It even had tiny paper horns and a spiky tail. This was exactly what Percy intended.
He then carefully animated the paper dragon. As he did, he remembered the terrifying battle he had with the real, full-sized Hungarian Horntail in the first task.
He remembered its ferocity, its fire, its power, trying to fill in the details for this paper version. And suddenly, the little paper dragon let out a small but surprisingly fierce roar! It took off into the air, its paper wings beating powerfully.
Percy watched, fascinated, as it zipped around the secret room, fast and agile, before it turned its attention back to his desk.
It came down in a steep dive, stooping like a hawk, and opened its tiny paper jaws. A stream of real, hot flames shot out, burning the little paper man, the paper horse, and the paper dog instantly, turning them into ash.
The paper bird chirped in terror and tried to fly away, flapping its wings frantically, only for the paper dragon to swoop down onto its back.
The dragon latched its paper jaws onto the bird's neck, tearing it off with a vicious shake, and then swallowed it whole in one gulp.
Only the little paper cat, still sleeping peacefully in the corner, survived the paper dragon's rampage.
Percy just watched, his mouth slightly open, completely stunned. He didn't realize his animation spell was so… so powerful. This didn't make any sense at all.
He knew the supposed limits of that simple spell. He did! It was just supposed to make something move, physically wiggle or walk around. Making it fly was already pushing it.
Making sounds was a curious, unexpected byproduct. But breathing actual fire? Now that was fucking impossible for a simple animation charm. Or it should have been.
Percy quickly un-animated the paper dragon and the cat, causing them to flop back into lifeless, folded paper shapes.
He then quickly doused the small flames still running across his wooden desk with a jet of water from his fingertips.
He sighed, looking at the scorch marks on the wood. He used a quick Reparo spell, and thankfully, the damage reversed itself, the wood becoming smooth and unburnt again. He sat down heavily in his chair, sighing again.
This wasn't normal. Even for him, a demigod, this felt… different. Could it be a result of his unique heritage? Was being a son of Poseidon, with all that raw elemental power, the reason why his magic was acting so… bizarrely strong and unpredictable when he finally used intent properly? What else could he do? What were his limits now?
If he animated a statue of his father, Poseidon, would it actually become a god, even for a moment? No, that was impossible, he told himself.
The animation spell got its power from his magic, from him. Obviously, it couldn't create something stronger than he was.
So, if he made a little paper Percy Jackson figure and animated that, would it be able to turn into a pegasus on its own, just because he could? Or summon water?
There were so many new questions, so many possibilities. It didn't make any logical sense based on what wizards thought magic could do.
Percy looked at the bare stone walls around him in his secret room. There were those beautiful, old, painted glass windows behind him, letting in soft, colored light.
But the wall directly in front of his workbench, the one he stared at most of the time, was just plain, grey stone.
He'd always thought it was such a boring, uninspiring sight to look at while he was trying to work or think… maybe he should do something about that? Make it more… him.
Grinning suddenly, an idea sparking in his mind, Percy took up his wand again and jumped out of his chair. He walked over to the blank stone wall and waved his wand, imagining a grand mural of his father, Poseidon, in all his sea-god glory, etched deeply into the stone.
Slowly, as he focused his intent, the image of his father began to appear on the wall trident held high, beard flowing, eyes full of the power of the ocean.
Percy stepped back and grinned, really pleased. 'Yeah,' he thought. 'This would definitely work. Much better than blank stone.'
He then worked on the wall some more, his creative energy flowing. He etched his mother, Sally Jackson, smiling warmly. He added the Master Bolt from his very first crazy adventure.
Cerberus, the three-headed guard dog of the Underworld, looking fierce but also a little bit goofy. His Cyclops brother, Tyson, with his big, kind eye. His best satyr friend, Grover, playing his reed pipes.
A sweeping landscape view of Camp Half-Blood, with the Big House and the strawberry fields. Thalia Grace, with her punk-rock style and electric spear.
Luke Castellan, looking conflicted, the way Percy remembered him before everything went wrong. And finally… finally, he decided to etch Annabeth Chase.
When it came to picturing Annabeth, Percy's memory was fresh and vivid, almost painfully clear. He remembered her infectious laugh, her brilliant smile when she solved a puzzle, the way she would roll her intelligent grey eyes and call him a "Seaweed Brain" with a mix of exasperation and affection. The way... the way she spoke, so smart and sure of herself.
Percy waved his wand over a new section of the stone, his heart feeling a little tight. Slowly, carefully, he etched Annabeth's form into the unyielding stone wall. He stepped back to admire his work, holding his breath. Her smile was perfect, just as he remembered it.
Her curly blonde hair, captured in mid-bounce, looked so real. Her skin… wait. Was her stone skin… was it turning faintly pink?
Percy gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief and sudden alarm. He watched, frozen, as the stone etching of Annabeth slowly began to change even more.
It wasn't just a flat carving anymore. It was deepening, becoming three-dimensional, like a statue emerging from the wall. The stone wall behind her seemed to cave in slightly, pushing her form further out.
Her paper-grey stone hair started to shift in color, becoming the exact shade of blonde he remembered so well.
Her stone skin softened, taking on the warm, exact shade he knew.
Her carved eyes, which had been blank stone, were now greying, shifting to that unique, stormy shade he knew was hers.
Percy watched, horrified and fascinated, as suddenly, the statue… blinked. He felt a massive, draining pull on his own magic, his own life force, like a vacuum cleaner sucking it right out of him.
He dropped to the ground with a choked gasp, clutching his chest, his heart hammering wildly. His eyes went wide with terror as he panted, struggling for breath.
He heard the sound of stone cracking, shifting, moving. He felt his magic, his very essence, pouring uncontrollably into Annabeth's statue, turning her… making her… real.
"Percy!" A sharp, familiar voice suddenly cried out, echoing in the secret room.
Percy managed to turn his head, his vision blurring. He saw the goddess of magic, Hecate, suddenly appear before him in a shimmer of silver light.
She looked at him, her face pale, then her eyes darted to the now almost fully-formed, life-like statue of Annabeth. Frowning deeply, a look of alarm on her face, Hecate snapped her fingers sharply.
Suddenly, the terrible drain on Percy's magic stopped. Percy gasped for air, a ragged, desperate sound, and fell completely to his side on the cold stone floor, limbs trembling.
"Oh Zeus, Percy! What in Hades did you do?" Hecate asked, her voice full of a strange mix of emotions as she rushed to his side.
He rolled weakly onto his back and looked up at her. She looked guilty, and sad, but mostly… he saw fear in her ancient eyes. Real fear.
"W-what… what happened?" Percy panted out, his voice weak and shaky. His mind was still reeling, not clear at all. His eyesight was covered with dancing black spots. He felt like he'd just run a marathon while wrestling a Minotaur.
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If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters you could take a visit on my patreon Or check it out.
http://patreon.com/SageOf016