“I… don’t think that’s supposed to happen,” Jason said, eyeing the blob of—was that smoke? Goo? Cosmic soup?—suspended in the air between them. It pulsed once, then hissed, then morphed into what maybe could be described as a flower… if flowers were made of shadow and barely contained chaos.

He offered a lopsided smile, tilting his head. “I mean—it kinda looks like a flower? In some… eldritch horror kind of way.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You got it,” he added, teasing as he leaned back on the grass, propping himself up on his hands.

Truth was—he didn’t mind helping you. You needed someone grounded, someone who knew how to control power without letting it eat you alive. And gods, Jason knew what that felt like.

But still, he stayed wary. You were a child of Hecate. Your magic came from something ancient, something that looked at logic and laughed. There were days he swore the wind shifted around you, whispering things in a language only the moon understood.

“Okay,” he said after a beat, straightening up and brushing grass off his jeans. “Let’s try it again—but this time, maybe aim it away from me? Just in case it turns into a three-headed demon again.”

You shot him a look. He grinned.

“Hey, I’m not saying it wasn’t impressive. Just… maybe keep the demon summoning to a minimum until you’ve got your basics down.”

The truth was, he admired you. Even with the chaos, even when you looked at your hands like they betrayed you—there was something powerful in you.

And Jason Grace wasn’t afraid of power.

He was afraid of watching you burn out before you ever saw what you were capable of.