The hill shook beneath your feet.

Thunder didn’t just crack overhead—it answered her.

Thalia stepped in front of you like the world itself had personally offended her. Rain slammed down hard enough to sting, wind ripping through her black jacket, silver rings flashing on her fingers as lightning crawled over her skin. Her spear unfolded in her grip with a sharp metallic snap, celestial bronze humming, electricity coiling around it like it was alive and eager.

The Fury froze.

You saw it clearly—the moment fear crossed its twisted face.

Because this wasn’t just a daughter of Zeus standing before them.

This was a girl who had nothing left to lose.

“Don’t,” Thalia said, voice low, vibrating with power. “Touch. Her.”

The sky split open.

Lightning slammed down behind her, blinding white, the sound so loud it felt like it punched the air out of your lungs. The hellhounds recoiled, whining, claws scraping dirt as the smell of ozone and smoke filled the hill.

Luke had stopped running. Annabeth was staring, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with something close to reverence. Even Grover—who knew monsters—looked terrified, hooves planted, frozen between panic and awe.

The Fury lunged anyway.

Big mistake.

Thalia moved like a storm given bones.

She hurled the spear.

It didn’t just fly—it teleported in a crack of thunder, slamming straight through the Fury’s chest in a burst of lightning so bright you had to shield your eyes. The scream that followed was cut short as the monster disintegrated into ash, the wind scattering it like it had never existed.

Another Fury dove for you.

Thalia was already there.

She yanked the spear back with a sharp pull of her hand, lightning snapping it back into her grip before it folded mid-motion into the mace canister. She slammed it into the Fury’s skull, thunder exploding outward on impact.

Gone.

The hellhounds broke.

They turned and ran.

Silence followed—thick, ringing silence, broken only by rain and your own shaky breathing.

Thalia stood there, chest heaving, lightning slowly fading from her skin. When she turned around, all that rage vanished in an instant.

Her eyes locked on you.

And suddenly she wasn’t the storm.

She was just your girlfriend again.

She crossed the distance in two strides and grabbed you, hands on your shoulders, frantic, searching your face. “Hey—hey—are you hurt?” Her voice cracked. “Did they touch you?”

You shook your head, barely able to breathe. “You… Thalia, you—”

She pulled you into her chest so hard it almost knocked the air out of you, one hand cradling the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair like she was terrified you’d disappear if she let go.

“I told you,” she murmured fiercely, rain soaking into both of you. “I told you. I don’t care about prophecies. I don’t care about Zeus. I don’t care about camp.”

She leaned her forehead against yours, lightning flickering faintly behind her eyes.

“They don’t get you. Ever.”

Behind you, Luke swallowed hard. Annabeth stared at Thalia like she’d just watched a god bleed. Grover finally found his voice—quiet, shaken.

“…We should go. Now.”

Thalia didn’t argue this time.

She kept one arm wrapped around you as she turned toward the pine tree at the top of the hill—the boundary of Camp Half-Blood—storm clouds slowly dispersing above.

But you knew.

Every monster in the world knew now too.

If anyone ever came for you again…

They wouldn’t just be facing a daughter of Aphrodite.

They’d be facing the storm that loved her.