Lucas watched as Polyphemus closed the entrance to his cave, closing off any hope of sneaking in silently.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn, golden drachma.He flipped the coin, eyes narrowed, questioning the chance of the satyr dying if he decided to wait till Polyphemus opens the boulder the next day.
The coin landed in the groove of his palm.
Not heads. Not tails. Dead center. A perfect balance.
Fifty-fifty.
Lucas exhaled, teeth gritting.
He couldn't rely on chance. Not here. Not now.
He placed the box on the ship, not risking bringing it back to the cave. Cloaking himself once more, Lucas made his way back through the flesh-eating sleep, and across the bridge. He stopped before the entrance.
The boulder loomed before him, sealed tight. Too late to slip in. Too late for finesse. That left him one option: force.
He weaved the mist into pure force, an unfamiliar magic he learnt but never suited his fighting style. The magic was growing stronger. Worse, it felt volatile in his hands. The longer he held it, the more it bucked against his control, so before he lost control of the magic he threw it towards the boulder.
The magic slammed into the boulder, stone groaned under pressure, then shattered, fragments of the boulder scattering in all directions, dust obscuring the entrance. But what it didn't obscure was the loud roar of confusion from Polyphemus, not expecting to be interrupted.
Lucas didn't wait. He dashed into the darkness, the familiar scent of wool and blood thickening with each stride. He moved through the darkness as if swimming, leaping from stone shelf to shelf, navigating with his sense of space, refined through training and instinct, that told him where weight shifted and where it could land.
A massive hand suddenly swiped through the air where he had been.
Lucas vaulted sideways, rolled into a low crouch, and kicked off a wall. His boots landed with soft taps, just behind the Cyclops.
"You not goat. Smell like demigod." Polyphemus muttered, turning.
Lucas had muffled his movement with magic, but Polyphemus still detected him. It seems he could smell Lucas due to his demigod nature, something Lucas couldn't do much about.
Lucas moved before the crook could come down, diving past the swing and launching himself up the inner wall.
He sensed the satyr curled beside the altar, half-conscious, limbs twitching. A large rib-bone lay across his torso, pinning him down.
Lucas dropped beside him, checked for breath. Faint, but there.
He wedged his shoulder beneath the bone, grunting softly as he pushed. The bone tipped. He rolled the satyr free, dragged him across the floor just as Polyphemus bellowed and stomped forward.
Lucas grabbed a shard of old stone from the ground nearby and flung it at the far wall. It struck and shattered. The noise echoed sharply in the cave.
Polyphemus turned toward the sound, grunting; raising his crook and attacking the emptiness where the sound came from.
Lucas took the moment, slinging the satyr's arm over his shoulder and moving for the exit.
It seems Polyphemus learnt to avoid relying on sound for he turned, sniffing.
"My sheep! My cave! Mine!"
He locked onto the satyr through smell and chased after Lucas and the satyr.
Lucas used every ridge, every overhang, ducking behind a large stone, slipping past in the shadows.
Although it wasn't enough to lose Polyphemus, it was enough to gain some distance.
Almost there.
Then a footstep shook the cave. Polyphemus roared, charging towards the exit of the cave; giving up on following Lucas' path and instead aiming to cut him off.
Lucas spun, dropped the satyr behind a slab of stone, and launched himself at the Cyclops.
He couldn't allow Polyphemus to leave the cave for the open space will give him the advantage, at least inside the cave, it limited Polyphemus' swings allowing Lucas to predict some of his attacks.
He slammed into the Cyclops' side, redirecting his momentum into the wall. Stone cracked under the weight. Polyphemus stumbled, growled, and swung blindly. Lucas ducked under the crook, pivoted, and struck the back of the Cyclops' knee with his heel.
Polyphemus snarled. "No more hiding! I crush you!"
Lucas slipped away again, using the natural ledges to rise above him, landing on a rock overhang as Polyphemus charged forward. He timed his next drop perfectly, slamming both feet into the Cyclops' upper back.
Polyphemus fell forward with a thunderous crash.
Lucas landed beside him, twirling the daggers in his hands. It seemed Polyphemus realized Lucas intended to kill him, for he started cursing.
Stupid demigod. I am Poseidon's favourite! You can't beat me."
Lucas didn't reply. His stance shifted, weight forward, ready.
"I eat you! Like I eat satyrs, heroes, all of them! They scream, you scream too!"
Lucas' eyes narrowed. He lunged forward, a blur of motion. He leaped over Polyphemus' attempt at swatting him and plunged his daggers deep into the Cyclops' eye, followed by channeling a burst of fire. The Cyclops screamed, reaching for Lucas, but he had already leaped back out of range. The outburst was short-lived, for Polyphemus gradually turned to golden dust, returning to Tartarus.
Lucas ran to the satyr, lifted him again, and made for the exit. He leaned the satyr against a tree and tried rousing him. Seeing no reaction, he resorted to using some of Asclepius' cream and healing magic. Both healed the satyr's wounds and managed to restore his breathing to an even rhythm. A second later, the satyr was blinking, looking around groggily.
Before Lucas could speak, the satyr started screaming, panicking, looking around in terror.
"Don't eat me, don't eat me! I have no meat on my bones! Please, don't eat me!"
Lucas grabbed the screaming satyr and gave him a firm shake, muttering low and steady for him to calm down. Surprisingly, the crude method worked. The satyr's panic softened into confusion, his gaze finally locking with Lucas' for a heartbeat. Recognition sparked.
"You... you're the one from the cliff," he whispered, blinking rapidly. He looked around and realized they were outside the cave, sunlight filtering through the trees, the scent of blood and wool left behind. "You saved me... Thank you."
The satyr burst into tears and threw himself at Lucas, burying his face against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. His tears soaked into Lucas' jacket in seconds.
Lucas stood still, unsure what to do with his arms. After a moment, he awkwardly patted the satyr's back, grateful only that Luke wasn't around to witness it.
When the satyr showed no signs of letting go, Lucas gently pried him off.
"Come on," he said. "We need to leave. I have a boat moored on the far side of the island. I'll take you to the coast. From there, you can make your way back to camp. Sound good?"
The satyr nodded, wiping his face with a crumpled handkerchief that Lucas had no memory of him pulling out. He was dressed in worn cargo shorts and a faded Camp Half-Blood shirt, hooves caked with ash and dust.
Lucas cloaked them both in magic and guided the satyr across the bridge. The sheep on the other side had gathered near the ravine, drawn by the noise of battle. Their red eyes blinking in quiet hunger; expecting another meal to soon be delivered.
They reached the boat without incident. Lucas helped the satyr aboard, untied the line from the dock, and stepped in after him. As they drifted away from the island, the sea welcomed them with soft waves and open sky.
The island of Polyphemus faded behind them, lush, radiant, and quiet once more. As if nothing had happened.
Lucas did not look back.
He only tightened his grip on the tiller, steering east.
Ahead, the ocean stretched wide and waiting.