Leave me lying where I fall

by phoenixdellaverita

Summary:

Percy holds on desperately to stone and to Nico's hands, Annabeth safely away from the cliff, and realises theres no way he can climb out.

So he lets go.

Years later, the immortal world is once again threatened by something from beyond the Pit - but this time, it's not an enemy they have ever faced. The Night rises, not satisfied with the gods. And, from the same rift in the earth, Percy Jackson climbs out of Tartarus, warning against an enemy... and a traitor.

Notes:

This work is an AU of an AU, set in the Falling universe. Can be read alone, but for more context and the way the original AU plays out, please read the full series <3 and have fun <3

Chapter 1: 1- Blow all the ashes down

Percy held desperately onto the stone wall, his fingers digging into a crack that cut the palms of his hands, blood making his grip slick and slippery. The red liquid flowed through his extended arm, pooling around his neck before dripping down into the putrid void below. A steadier stream came from his abdomen, as Arachne’s poison burned the puncture she left as a goodbye. 

 

And yet, he did not give up on holding the best he could, as Annabeth climbed up his body, holding onto his legs, then torso, finally being supported by his other arm as he helped her grab Nico’s arms. Her climb was made harder by her broken leg, her avoidance in putting weight against it leading to more than one knee to Percy’s stomach. But eventually, she had safely rolled away from the cliff’s edge, as Percy’s strength faltered and Nico once again tried to hold onto his arm. 

 

But the blood had made his skin too hard to grip, and the son of Hades was not strong enough to haul him up by himself from that angle, Percy’s own strength being sapped away by the pull from the red mist steadily rising beyond his feet, his fingers growing numb and vision swimming from blood loss. 

 

The others would not reach them in time either - too busy securing the statue, too far away to hear when they had fallen, and Nico too focused on keeping them alive to yell out. Their eyes met, a silent agreement passing between them - as well as something else on the underworld child’s. Something akin to pity, but also cold, calculating. 

 

Percy let go at the same moment Nico did. 

 

And so he fell. 

This story may sound familiar to you, my dear Reader - we have fallen this way before, in a reality where Percy falls with a companion, and yet another where he finds that companionship at the bottom of this Pit. 

 

This story has been told before, and it will live on in your memory forever again, be it in its first form, or in its endless retellings. 

 

This story is one more way it could have played out. 

He fell - and we know he fell forever, time stretching the further down he went. For time is different between dimensions, slower the further away one is from the origin of it. And eventually, he hit the bottom. 

 

This time, Perseus Jackson had lost too much blood to be awake, and the fluid Woe replaced the crimson ichor the half god had lost, seeping into the wounds made by ancient brimstone. They greeted the Styx in his veins, old friends meeting again, carrying his flesh towards Fire, which took pity on the child and closed his wounds. 

 

Styx, dark mist she is, floated through the crimson fog to warn her kin of the newcomer, whose body floated alongside the conjoined rivers of the Underworld, Lamentation and Memory, the quintet taking the child as theirs, for the world above had rejected him. The milky white water of the last of the currents touched his skin gently, forbidden by its siblings from taking his life, even as it draped itself over his past. 

 

The boy would remember, as if he had lived a dream. Memory would not abandon him, even if he wished it so. 

 

The water cradled him as it ran through his veins, seeped into his blood through his lungs, and deposited him on a dark shore. 

 

On an obsidian outcrop, a Raven waited, guided by her sister. With a fluttering of wings, the woman knelt by the fallen hero, hands holding his face, talons almost piercing skin. 

 

“How beautiful you are.” She whispered, even if there was no one to hear. “A force of nature, contained by the mortal world. How beautiful is your potential.”  With delicate hands, the Raven wrapped her talons around a sword in disguise, caressing the hero’s dark hair. “Come to my side, Perseus, and know peace in the breast of Night.” 

 

At the last words, shadows enveloped the couple of children of legend, a frigid kiss promising endless possibility. 

Percy woke up in soft sheets and a soft bed, caressing every centimeter of his body like oil, as soft music lulled him into comfort, his eyes opening in a haze of sleep from a long dream. The feeling of strands touching his fingers, the light emanating from somewhere beyond his eyes and the smell of flowers was almost too much to his senses, so real it made him doubt he had ever been awake before in the first place.

 

He sighed, and it felt like breathing freely for the first time, new lungs on an asthmatic or a pressure being lifted from his chest. It was not a loud movement, but it made the music stop abruptly, followed by the too-loud sound of something made of wood being placed on glass. 

 

Then, steps, clicking with metal against stone as his eyes started to finally focus, the last traces of slumber leaving him and being replaced with the sheet unfamiliarity of the place. 

 

Percy did not recognise the arched stone ceiling above him, from which chains held a chandelier in the middle of the room, the candles alight with blue fire. Framing his vision, translucid blue cloth hung from the canopy of a bed, immobile in the fresh but still air. He tried to move, finding his body weak and heavy, but managed to support himself in a half sitting position - enough to see the woman that approached. 

 

She had skin as tanned as his, contrasting the black chiton with the luminous purple eyes and swirling markings over her body, and each of her steps made sharp metallic talons on her heels click louder and louder, stalking forward like a predator. Instinctively, Percy tried to push his legs up and brace himself better against the pillows behind him, making the silk sheets slide down his torso and legs, bunching up on his midriff. And so revealing he was completely nude, making him feel more vulnerable than before. 

 

“Who are you?” He asked, keeping the trembling out of his voice as the woman sat by his side on the bed, fiddling with a violin bow between one hand and leaning the other across his body, effectively caging him. She was beautiful, features sharp and severe in a way that reminded him of Thanatos and Eris. “A goddess?” 

 

“You flatter me, dear.” She replied, voice silky and with a strong, antiquated British accent. “I am Natalie. The one who took your prone body from the margins of my sibling and her equals.” 

 

“What?” He asked. Percy did not remember much before falling from that chasm, and even what he did recall from before seemed distant when compared to this place, an oniric tint to it. “I- I appreciate your rescue, lady. But I gotta get back to- I need to find the Doors of Death. The world-”

 

“Depends on it?” The woman finished. “Hardly. The continued ruling of the Olympians, maybe. Gaea, Kronos, Zeus, they are not so different from one another.” Her violin bow touched his chest, sending a shiver down his spine Percy could not quite describe. “Do not fret, dear. Your Doors have been set free, and your companions sail on as we speak.” 

 

“I suppose you’re the one who did that?” 

 

She smiled in response. “For a price. Are you willing to pay  for it? Or shall I collect the debt owned somewhere… else?”  As she spoke, the violin bow drifted lower, down his arm, stopping at his SPQR tattoo. The threat was clear. 

 

“No. I will pay.” Hadn’t he been willing to die the second he let go of that cliff anyway? He did not know who this woman was - her name did not sound very mythological, and nothing indicated she was or was not a goddess, but it was his best bet. He had no weapons, no clothes, no supplies, and no idea where he was. And above it all, he had no choice. The deal felt more symbolic than anything else, a choice with only one possible answer. 

 

“Good.” The woman replied, the instrument in her hand leaning against his Adam's apple as she leaned forward, strings drifting across his throat, not cutting, but feeling as sharp as a knife. He leaned back, his head hitting the headboard and the pillows as she drifted forward, the hand previously on the sheets now resting on his chest and legs rising to straddle him. 

 

Fear rose in Percy’s chest. He had had his fair share of deities propositioning him, subtly or not, even if it took him a long time after to realise what was happening. This did not feel like that, and yet, it was even more invasive. He gripped her arms, in an attempt to protest, but she didn’t move forward besides effectively pinning him to the surface underneath their bodies. 

 

“Stay here with me, Perseus.” She said. “With the Night. Body and soul, join the House of Nyx.” The name was familiar, but he could not say why, too focused on the pressure against his body, the way her hands were cold and burned all at once, how the cotton of her chiton and the silk of the sheets felt like fire. 

 

There was not much he could reply. “Yes.” 

 

She smiled, revealing sharp fangs on her canines, and slid the violin bow, slicing through flesh and tendon. 

 

It hurt, a pain so real and so sharp when compared to what he recalled he could not even gasp. His blood was warm, covering his mouth in an acrid taste. And then, there was bliss. 

 

Her hands pressed on his wound, as if choking the life out of his body, knitting his flesh back together in pleasure and relief. His eyes drifted closed against his will as the sensation grew and ebbed away. 

 

The pressure left, eventually, a soft kiss being placed on his forehead as his breathing evened out. Her touch moved to his cheeks, and he slowly came back to his own body, fluttering his eyelids open and focusing on her face, those purple eyes looking into his very soul. He felt as if something was tied around his neck. 

 

The woman sat back upright, extending a single finger under his chin, curling it against that weight on his throat, and he felt that thing around it pull his body up, like a chain… or a collar. 

 

She smiled. “Good decision, dear. Welcome to the House.”  Black ink seemed to be splattered across her hands and face, dripping onto the sheets as she released him and got up, picking up a black violin from a table nearby. “You shall find garments, a washroom and whatever you desire in these chambers. Food will be brought later. For now, rest.” 

 

He slumped back against the bloodsoaked bed, the liquid drying into something viscous against his skin and turning flaky on his body. The door clicked shut. 

 

There, Percy stayed until his senses came back to normal, processing what had just happened, taking in the room he was in. The ceiling, which he previously could not see clearly, depicted a woman in a starry cape, riding a chariot through the moon and stars. 

 

Nyx. The Night, the first night, mother of all other primordials. Percy had only heard snippets about her, always having something else to worry about. he always though she had been the first to pilot the chariot of the Moon, that eventually would end up with Artemis, but the painted ceiling seemed to show otherwise, as the metal her ride was made of resembled more stygian steel than star silver, a whip made of stardust and light raised above horses made of shadows as she brough not the moon, but darkness upon the painting. 

 

Following were figures, most unfamiliar, but some he recognised. Eris, Thanatos, Nemesis, and even the Fates. In a corner, a man cowered from a cave. Percy almost froze when he recognised the celestial bronze tool at his feet, lightning spilling from it and casting his face in fear. Zeus. The king of gods, hiding from the eyes of the Night. 

 

He got to his feet, unsteady at first, his feet touching the cold, black stone floor. The weight on his neck had vanished as well, he noted, as he stumbled to a door by a corner he assumed led to the bathroom. The furniture of the room was beautiful - all black wood and dark volcanic glass, decorated in precious metals in opulence. 

 

There were bookshelves and a reading nook by a wall, a pit with blue and green fire near it surrounded by pillows and cushions and low tables. A writing desk sat by another corner, covered in paper and quills, as well as a round table and four cushioned chairs. Carpets and pelts separated the spaces, and the chandelier and other sources of fire made it all seem cozy instead of oppressively dark. 

 

The bathroom itself was also extremely fancy - the ceramic tiles on the floor were heated, steam rising from a big bath in the center, surrounded by soaps and oils and soft looking towels, as well as a modern toilet and shower in a corner. On the other side of the bath, was a miraculously clear mirror framed by blooming poppy flowers and a sink. He walked towards the last two.

 

He expected to see blood covering his body. Instead, it was more of that black ink, focused on the area around his neck. He opened the tap, letting water wash it away… And froze in realisation. 

 

It was not ink. It was blackened blood. He bit the corner of a finger, watching as the dark liquid bloomed up before the wound closed itself as he dipped it on the tap water. Furiously, he grabbed a cloth, dunked it on the same water and swiped it against his neck and chest, a river of black dripping down and pooling at his feet. 

 

And, as he cleaned his skin, Percy realised something else had changed. At first, it was the new mark on his chest, on top of his heart where the woman had leaned her hands - a flying raven inside a crescent moon, a star above its head. It did not take much to guess which group of immortals that referred to. On his forearm, the SPQR symbols had vanished, replaced by a chariot similar to the one in the painting on the ceiling. 

 

But, most worrying of all, was his neck. 

 

He thought it was a scar at first. 

 

But it was the same black as the other markings, a band of black ink etched on his skin, with no different texture as the one around it. Marked on him, was a collar. 

 

“What have I done?” Percy Jackson asked himself. 

Chapter 2: 2 - In love with Judas

He bathed, and scoured the closet for clothes. Thankfully, it wasn’t all chitons, peploi and the like, even if it was all in the shame shade of black but also included some long shirts, belts, pants, and shoes. No jeans or t-shirts, but he could make do, choosing a long sleeved model and layering it with a shorter one, before chinching it with a belt and tucking part of the edge on his pants. If he could make a run for it out of this place, it was good to at least have some layers. It was better than some of the more… revealing options as well. 

 

He tried to guess where he was, or how the climate outside was - but all he could see from the stained glass windows were rolling red clouds, more stone walls, and a cliff falling straight down, with no water on sight. He could climb down, if he had to… but a door would be much easier. 

 

There were no weapons in the room, or anything he could grab as one. Unless, of course, he decided to start hitting people with chairs. But that seemed too loud for an escape, so they were a plan B. 

 

He sat on the bed, noticing the sheets had magically been changed and folded while he had taken a bath and tried to scrub off the marlins from his body, to no avail. Everything was incredibly luxurious, but relatively simple and functional. It was more like it was a room decorated by someone who valued practicality but also art and comfort than someone trying to show off. 

 

Lightning flashed from the clouds - so different from Zeus’, something primal, older, a purple bolt of power. It was beautiful. 

 

He was still trying to understand how much more real all of this felt, when he was sure he was not in the mortal world. Even when he tried to remember his friends, his mom, it all felt a bit hazy. It wasn’t like when Hera messed with his memories - they were still there, but it almost felt like there was a thin layer of milky water over them. Or was it just a weird contrast with this vibrant dark dimension?

 

Either way, he had to get used to it. Running his hand over the dark band on his neck, he wondered if he would even be able to leave - the… promise? Oath? He had sworn was so vague, it could easily be used by either him or the woman. 

 

Natalie. That was her name. It was definitely not Greek, could she be a demigod like him? How was she here then? Something about those eyes made him question if she was human at all. 

 

And there was something about that feeling when she held him down, breathing so close to his, her hands around his neck and her weight on his hips. It was scary at the time, but now, thinking back… it had not been just fear running on his veins, but an excitement, a beat his heart skipped…

 

Well. There was little he could do about it as things were. 

 

The door behind him opened, silent save for the doorknob turning. The same clicking steps announced the object of his musings entering the room. He turned around, guard once again up, as she placed a covered tray on the small table. 

 

“Come eat.” She said, removing the silver lid to reveal a greek-style, orange and black bowl containing something steaming, similar plate-like ceramics, a corked bottle, two kylix, and cutlery. 

 

He wanted to say no, and walk away. Percy had learned his lesson with food from unknown people. But his stomach said otherwise, and the woman swirled her hand around, tugging on an invisible rope. The collar around his neck pulled him forward half a step. 

 

So, he was leashed as well. 

 

Percy sat - there wasn’t much to gain from standing, and as defiant and impertinent he was, he could also choose his battles. And the food did smell really good, even if it looked… questionable. He thought it was the black interior of the bowl at first, but no, it was genuinely a really dark colour, thick with what seemed like pieces of meat floating on it. 

 

Natalie served two plates, gesturing for him to choose one. Probably thinking he would assume one of them were poisoned - but he hadn’t even thought about it. If she wanted him dead… he would be. 

 

So he chose the nearest one and pulled it closer as she filled the kylix near him with wine. “I’m not 21.” He said 

 

“And?” She replied, drinking from her own cup. “It matters very little. But I could fetch water if you’d prefer.” 

 

Percy shook his head. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever tasted wine - the backs of boarding schools and the forest at Camp combined with stressed teenagers who could smuggle things around weren’t exactly sober places. He hated alcohol, and what it did to people. What it did to Gabe. 

 

But he also remembered Chiron saying how it was important in Ancient Greece, and the pottery made it clear these were traditional people. So he could accept a few sips. 

 

“The food…” 

 

“Won’t trap you here, if this is a concern. Nor is it harmful to you, or poisonous. It is merely chosen to replenish the blood you have lost in your fall, and your debt.” She finished his thoughts. “I swear by Styx.” And thunder outside sealed her words. 

 

Percy supposed that was as good as he would get, so he took a spoon and ate some of it. 

 

The taste was unlike anything he ever had - a bit acidic, like vinegar, and the meat resembled a strong, gamey pork. It wasn’t bad, but it was far from what he grew up with. “What is this?” He asked. 

 

“Melas zomos. Black soup.” The woman replied. “It was consumed in Sparta.” 

 

“What is it… made of?” 

 

Natalie sipped some of her wine before speaking, and Percy followed her lips as she licked some wine off them. “Meat - usually pig. Vinegar. The blood of the animal chosen. It shall do you good to recover.” 

 

It did not quite taste like pig. “Where… are there farms in this place?” where was this, he wanted to ask. 

 

“No.” She replied. “But we hunt. There are woods and animals, and Tartarus is not far away for more supplies.” 

 

Tartarus. “So… we are close to it?” 

 

“I expected more direct questions.” She replied instead. “You are in the House of Night, where She dwells, the first divine realm from creation, above Phanes and by the shore of Chaos. If you were to choose the right direction, and fly, by the cliff of Misery you could reach Tartarus.” 

 

This was… far too much information given so freely. And Natalie smiled, as if she knew that. 

 

“Right.” He decided to change the subject. “This doesn’t taste like pig.” 

 

“It’s boar. I took it down myself for tonight’s meal.

 

“In the woods? Are they nearby?” 

 

She smiled again, and Percy felt toyed with. “No. The Erymanthian is a hard catch, but can feed this House for a long time.” 

 

Percy recalled riding that same animal, looking for Annabeth and Artemis. This was a mythological creature, one of the Labours of Hercules. And the woman in front of him had taken it down for dinner. Percy didn't even know it could die. much less not become golden dust. 

 

“I-” 

 

“It shall be born again.” She cut him off. “It’s a creature of legend. We hunt them down, take its leather and tusks for weapons, the bones for fire, and meat and blood for food. Nothing in this place goes to waste. A drakon fallen is a bounty for ages, and makes for good armour. Fangs from hounds become arrows. We keep balance.” 

 

“We?” Percy asked. So far he had only seen that woman, but the painting above their heads depicted more gods. 

 

“The members of this House. Most are my siblings, some were called or seek refuge. A select few were chosen to fight with me, by my own hand, and bear my Raven.” 

 

He thought of the bird on his chest, rubbing it through the cloth. “I’m not fighting for you.” He said 

 

“I did not ask you to. Merely to stay.” 

 

“For how long?” He asked, but he already knew the answer. 

 

“Forever.” 

 

His eternity, for the world. Hera had said he would pick his family over it, but in the end, he hadn't even had a choice . And what about when he died? Would that day even come, would he be a ghost in this house, or be free to the Underworld? 

 

“I suppose I never thanked you.” Natalie said. 

 

“For… what?” The sentence was so out of place coming from her lips it broke him from his spiral. 

 

“Freeing my brother in Alaska.” 

 

He recalled it then - a chained angel, guarded by the undead legion. So, the similarity came from family. 

 

But if he was her brother, and Thanatos was born from the same goddess that owned his place… “Nyx is your mother?” 

 

“Of course. This is her House, and I am the heir.” 

 

Percy looked up, searching for those purple eyes on the painting. 

 

“I am not there.” She said. “Only my godly siblings are, and we are one and the same. Children of gods.” 

 

So she was a demigod. Percy had never heard of something older than an Olympian having half mortal children, and judging by her accent, she was much older than she seemed. 

 

He placed his spoon down on his plate, startled to realise it was almost empty, and he hadn’t even noticed. 

 

“What do you want from me here?” He asked 

 

“You are free to do as you please.” She replied. “I would appreciate your presence by my side as I deal with my duties. I do not wish to force your attendance, as useful as it could be.” 

 

Drag him by the collar like a dog, she meant.

 

“What are those duties?” 

 

“Mundane tasks, quarrels between my siblings, managing this estate. Some hunting. Although those issues are all solved once a week. For the rest of the days, we train, and we plan.” 

 

He twisted his spoon between his fingers. “For what?” 

 

“Why, to take down Olympus, of course.” 

 

Percy stood up, his chair scraping against the floor before toppling over. “What?” 

 

“You should hardly be surprised.” Natalie seemed undisturbed by his reaction. “The Night is displeased by how Zeus conducts his kingdom. Gaea sent her Titans and Giants after them, and yet, he does not learn. The Earth herself shall also fail. And yet, the king does not change. His children, the demigods, Rome, Greece, reduced to a shadow of what they once were as his power wanes and his authority fails. He had his chance, all of them had. It is time the Night rules once more.” 

 

Percy ground his teeth. “You’ll fail.” 

 

She laughed. “I do not fail. Your loyalty is beautiful, dear.” She stepped out of her chair, fluidly cupping his face before he could move - and she was taller than he was, Percy realised. “So beautiful, and precious. A poetic flaw for a hero. They treat you like a hound, when you are a guard dog, keeping the few you love safe. So much faith in them.” 

 

His heart was racing against his chest, the small sips of wine he had taken flushing his cheeks. 

 

“Your loyalty is not repaid, my hero.” She continued. “The gods fail at their oaths, and now my sister Styx demands payment. We shall guide Olympus, for the benefit of those spawned from it. And your friends will either see it, or fault at stopping us. You can barely handle Gaea while she slumbers, and her power is not a fraction of the Night’s. She was the first goddess, my dear. All else came after Her. Her will is the will of Chaos, of Phanes.” 

 

Percy was shaking, knees growing weaker from the realisation of what he had stumbled upon as his weight was supported by her fingers curling on the invisible collar. 

 

“I shall not force you. To break such beautiful eyes, and contain your ocean… no. That would be a crime. Your will is your own. I merely request your presence, but if your hand raises against Olympus, it will be by your own choice, or Styx forfeit my essence.” 

 

The thunder this time beat in sync with his heart as he got his feet under him, dragging her hands away from his face. “I can’t let you hurt my friends or my family.” 

 

“I would expect nothing less.” She replied. “I shall fetch you tomorrow, my Hound.” 

 

And with that, her body dissolved in shadow. 

Percy had to get out of there. 

 

He had to warn his friends. tell them that, no, Gaea wasn’t the worst that could happen. 

 

That was, if they were still alive. He did not know how long it had been since he woke up here, and how much time passed before that. Or how to get out of there for that matter - he had assumed the woman had freed the Doors, but they could still be chained, could be a way out of there. Or he could just hunt them down, he would steal something to cross the fog, and make his way to them. 

 

He packed what he could, which was not much - a towel from the bathroom, filled the wine bottle with water, tied it in the sheets, and that was it. 

 

Now he had to choose - the door, or the window. 

 

If he picked the door, it would be easier to not immediately die. But he was not sure he could get out of there. Meanwhile, the window meant he only had to circle around until he found those woods, or more supplies, an entrance - which meant a way out. 

 

Window it was. 

 

He pushed the glass panes open, thanking whoever was listening that the outside was sculpted and decorated enough to find footholds and places to hold on to. Keeping his body flush to the wall to avoid the wind, he slowly made his way to an arbitrary destination, almost slipping off at times. 

 

He did not want to know what the red fog hid. 

 

Eventually, he spotted a balcony, where he could hopefully rest. Painstakingly, he made his way up, avoiding any windows in case someone was passing by. 

 

The balcony itself was empty, and in any other circumstance, he would enjoy how comfortable it seemed. A small table, and plush chairs surrounded by more pillows and a blanket half draped across them, as if someone had forgotten it there. A nice breeze sped by, making more of those translucent pieces of cloth swing and dance. 

 

But he had no time to dwell. Using the height, he peeked around the structure, looking for some sort of entrance. It was a gigantic palace, built out of black marble and decorated with immense sheets of silver and iron that could probably make enough weapons for the entirety of New Rome twice, elephant included. Even from the balcony, he could see very little of it, but it had an end. 

 

To his right, the stone contrasted with the red light of the fog, showing it had, at least, a corner where he could get down to the ground. It wasn’t even far away, but the walls were too smooth to scale safely. 

 

The room behind him seemed empty - no one had come running for him, at least. So he pushed the colourful glass doors open. It led to another bedroom, not very different from his own, except for the more personal items spread around. A mirror, a table with perfume bottles and small vials near it. A pink ribbon draped over a small box, messy sheets and an empty birdcage, clean, but clearly used by an actual bird. 

 

He didn’t dwell much on it - Natalie had mentioned more inhabitants in this House. And he was not very keen on meeting any of them. So he silently opened the door and crept outside, keeping near the walls and walking as quietly as he could in unfamiliar shoes. 

 

And so he walked. 

 

And walked. 

 

Walked… 

 

He should have reached an exit by now. Or a window showing the ground. 

 

Instead, he only saw more of that red fog, none of the rocky soil he had glimpsed before. It was almost as if the hallways were changing, never leading linearly to the same place. 

 

And now he was well and truly lost. 

 

Should have risked the climb. 

 

Percy backtracked, trying to at least find his way back to that room, maybe try another way. But he didn’t even make two bends around decorated corners when he bumped into someone, causing both to stumble back. 

 

At first, he panicked - He had no idea who else lived here, and he was scared to death from the one inhabitant he had met. But this was a man, shaking long, shaggy black hair out of his face as he bent down to pick up loose pieces of paper fallen to the floor. 

 

He got up before Percy could run away, and sea-green eyes met familiar dark brown ones. And, worst of all? They held no surprise at all. 

 

“Ah. Wandering around?” Nico di Angelo asked. 

 

“I- Nico- Did she get you too? We need to get out of here- wandering? ” 

 

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Ah. So, you’re not working with us yet. It would be too early, anyway.” 

 

Percy felt his heart sunk as confirmation settled in. “You’re working for her.” 

 

The shorter man sighed. “Come with me.” And turned around, walking towards a door in the far end of the corridor. Percy followed, looking at the metal candle supports in the wall and wondering if he could use them as weapons. 

 

Probably not. 

 

Nico opened the door, ushering him in before he closed it behind them. The room was also much like the ones before. The sight of mythomagic cards on the table, almost as if halfway through a game, made him pause. 

 

A prisoner would not have them. And Nico would not bring them if he didn’t feel comfortable here, or planned to leave. 

 

“I hoped you had made up your mind and seen reason already.”

 

The sentence made Percy see red. He twisted around, grabbing the younger man and pushing him against a wall. “What the fuck Nico? You know what she wants to do! That woman wants to kill- Think about Hazel! Frank! All our friends at Camp!” 

 

Nico gripped his forearm with more force Percy thought he was capable, especially after being trapped in a jar for so long recently. If that had even been real. Percy did not trust a word he said by now. 

 

“She has a point. All of them do. Percy, what have the gods done for us? They throw us in quests- Zeus killed my mother and almost killed me and Bianca . Hades had to put us in Lotus Casino just to survive, and did he even apologise? Of course not. Nowhere wanted me before - too scary for the Greeks, too Greek for the Romans. I was ready to end it all when Nat found me.” 

 

His eyes softened, and his hand relaxed as Percy’s strength wavered. “Percy. I know it seems scary. But they are doing a good thing in the end - making sure justice is made. No one would have been hurt if the gods had heard Nyx’s warnings, and now she's making good on a promise. But the heroes are just tools for them, even after all you did.” 

 

Nico had always been good at holding grudges. Maybe too good. 

 

“You sound like Luke.” 

 

“His points are fair. The problem was execution.” 

 

And the worst part of it? Percy could not disagree with that. Hadn’t he almost gone with Luke, if he wasn’t worried for his mom? Even now, Nico’s skin on his, the smell of flowers and metal in the air, it all felt so much more than his past, as if he was finally alive. 

 

But he could not do that. He would not turn his back on his demigod friends, on Annabeth, on his mortal family. “And what about the ones we love, Nico?” 

 

“They don’t have to get hurt.” Nico replied. “Night would protect them, like She will do for everyone who understands the age of the Olympians is over. Work with us Percy, and She will keep Sally safe. Paul. Their kid. Grover, and everyone else who doesn’t fight.” 

 

Percy swallowed the anger in this throat, feeling almost as if it got stuck on the damn collar. “No. I can’t betray my mom, I’m sorry. She wouldn’t want this.” 

 

Nico lowered his head. “No. I’m sorry.” 

 

And then, Percy was shadows and wind, falling down on a soft surface. 

 

He was back in his room, and this time, the door and windows were locked. 

Days passed the same - if there were even days in this place. The light outside didn’t change, a perpetual night lit up by red. Trays of food would show up on the table, always something Greek or Roman, traditional. He didn’t touch the wine, and soon it was replaced by fresh water. 

 

He wondered if it was magic, or if there was a crew of shadowy creatures cooking for the House somewhere. 

 

Percy spent his time trying to escape again - but there was nothing he could use effectively. He doubted a small steak knife would help him at all against whoever stopped him this time. 

 

So he read instead. For once, the words didn’t give him much trouble, the Ancient Greek of the pages reducing his demigod-dyslexia to almost nothing, and there was only so much he could mess around in this room before even his TDAH grew bored. 

 

So he learned. Nyx was scarier than he thought, almost metaphysical, in a sense that she was the Night, and did not just control it. She had been the first owner of the Oracle, the mother of Day and Aether, Destiny, The Fates - and Percy wondered if the old crones were acting on her orders, then, when he saw them cut that thread. When they showed up time and time again in his life. 

 

Pain, distress. Sleep. Death. Strife. Deceit. Blame. Retribution. Love. Those were all her children, and the fact that Philotes could have been born among such a terrible brood made him pause.

 

Aphrodite had once said that love and war walked together for a reason. And that it could also be terrible. Percy could see the hand all of the other children of Night would play in the coming war. But how could Love ever agree with this?

 

“They act out of It.” An old man’s voice, and Percy jumped, brandishing the genealogy book as if it was a sword. He didn’t look like a threat, but Percy was too experienced to fall for appearances. 

 

“Who are you?” He asked. 

 

“Why, Perseus. You have chosen me, when you refused immortality. Shame I shall never come to you, now. My name is Geras, and I am Old Age, the one the gods fear the most.” Said the ancient man. Percy could believe his claim - he looked as if a breeze would make him crumble into dust, but held himself with pride, the chiton around his shoulders framing thin arms that, regardless, moved easily when he spoke. Percy expected him to look frail, like a sickly man, but he was dignified in his age. 

 

“What… come for me?” Did he mean Percy was meant to live to be old? He always thought that a fight would take him much before that. 

 

“Very few choose to be mortal when offered one of the golden apples my sisters guard.” The man replied, sitting by a chair nearby. Percy did not follow the example. “And the gods fear my face, for they know their time runs thin when I come. I am not just numbers in a paper, Percy, but the sign that your time runs thin. I was the one to warn the gods on behalf of my mother, and to see their arrogance and belief they would reign forever. Kronos reacted the same, when I also told him of his end - but myths won’t tell you this.” 

 

“Are you here to take me, then? Since I won’t join you?” 

 

“Old age doesn’t kill, my boy. I am not Thanatos. But I can see a decrepit age, and when it is time for something new to step in.” 

 

He was trying to convince Percy. And it was a compelling argument - but he had something else in mind. “You said they act out of Love?”

 

“There is no pain without it. No blame cast, if one doesn’t love what is taken, no desire for retribution, no need to fight. It is out of Love for this world that my youngest sister obeys her mother, love lost by the gods a long time ago. They only covet what they do not cherish.” 

 

Percy had no witty reply to that. It wasn’t fully wrong. “I still love my family.” 

 

“Your loyalty is admirable. But unwarranted. And will be used against you until there's nothing left to be loyal for . Philotes was one of the first of us to be born, and, together with Eris, drove creation forward. She wishes not for destruction, but for change. None of us need power, Perseus, and her voice is the loudest of us all begging to take action, before it is too late, and demigods only know a life of fear. remember this, and talk to my little sister. She could be your driving force, if you allow her.” 

 

With those words, the man faded into shadows, leaving a mere breeze behind. 

Percy caved in a few hours later. 

 

With his hands on the collar tattoo, he called: “Natalie.” 

 

Almost instantly, two hands materialised on his shoulders, moving his arms down and holding him by the chest. “Have you summoned me?” Her voice whispered in his ear.

 

“What happened to my friends?” 

 

And so she showed him. Through a black mirror pulled from thin air, how she had taken his sword and cut the chains holding the Doors, freeing them and jamming the button with a bloodsoaked Riptide. How Annabeth looked in despair at the empty elevator, and a fight in Athens. Another in Camp Half Blood, Reyna and Jason sitting as Praetors while Annabeth and Chiron stood under Thalia’s tree. 

 

Paul and Sally crying as Annabeth handed them his sword, now clean of blood. 

 

An empty shroud burned by the beach. Poseidon absent from his own son’s funeral. 

 

“This doesn’t convince me.” He said. Maybe the gods were not the best. But there were still people he cared about, even as they moved on without him. 

 

“I know.” She replied. “Come with me.” 

 

Natalie pulled him with her. Not through the collar, but merely by walking away, something magnetic drawing Percy along. He watched her back, the way she wore a wing shaped cape today, feathers with a metallic sheen sliding out from black steel shoulders, shimmering with each step. 

Through corridors decorated by tapestries and fire, they reached a pair of double doors, which opened silently to reveal a meeting room. It was made of the same black stone, but had no windows to speak of, being lit by braziers lining the walls. 

 

The only furniture was the long table made of volcanic glass and eight chairs, disposed asymmetrically with one of them at the head of the table. Shining above the reflective surface was a hologram, like a map of New York and Olympus. 

 

All of this came second to the occupants in the room, however. 

 

The chair at the head of the table and the ones directly by it were empty. The remaining five were not, and on them, sat people Percy thought long dead. 

 

“Heyyyy, Percy!” greeted a cheerful Luke Castellan. “Damn, you grew up.” 

 

Ignoring them, Natalie took her seat at the head of the table, beckoning Percy forward with a hand, gesturing towards the chair on her right. But his feet remained firm on the ground. 

 

“What is this? Are you fucking with my head now?” 

 

“Not at all.” She replied. “Sit.” 

 

“Not until you answer me properly.” 

 

“I was not asking.” Her voice was cold as she once more made that grabbing gesture, and Percy was pulled forward by his neck, stumbling towards her. “Much better. Sit.” 

 

He sat. 

 

“Shit, Nat, you actually put a collar on him?” Luke cursed. “He is stubbornly loyal, that’s fair, but…” 

 

“Hare.” Natalie reprehended. “Enough.” The former Titan host shut up. 

 

Percy took the interaction to observe the group around the table. The chair in front of him was empty, with a snake symbol carved on top of it. Luke’s had a rabbit-like figure, and the man himself looked different - healthier, with one scarred eye glowing gold and the other back to its original colour. By his side was Silena, looking older, hands intertwined with Beckendorf’s. Above them, a bird and a spider almost looked like crowns. 

 

In front of them, were Zoe,  silver eyes watching him closely, deer antlers poking from behind her head from the wood, and Bianca, sitting right by the empty chair, another bird figure perched on top of her seat. This one, Percy recognised - a vulture, with the long neck and collar of feathers, a bird that lived from scraps, scavenging through the reject of other animals. Much like in a junkyard. The irony of it made him shiver. 

 

All of the animal symbols were ironic, or seemed to have some relation to their respective members. Beckendorf, a master of his craft that died in his own trap. Silena, with a dove, an animal of peace and love that died because of it. Zoe, a hunter, depicted as prey. Luke, who always ran from his family, driven by anger, a cowardly but cunning and fast animal known for having a large household. Natalie herself had a raven, a bad omen… and incredibly intelligent.

 

He could guess who the snake chair was for. An animal misunderstood, associated with being two faced, and death… That was Nico. And behind Percy himself was a dog. 

 

Loyal. Strong. Ferocious. Who could make one fear for their life, and hunt down prey to the ends of the Earth. 

 

“You planned this.” Percy said. 

 

“I did.” She replied. “My Hound. Do not concern yourself - your presence is not a betrayal. You had no choice, after all. I dragged you by a leash, out of your control. You are here to observe, that’s all.” 

 

And so observe, he did. He could tell the people from his past wanted to talk to him, but he firmly ignored them, looking at the map as they spoke. 

 

He expected war plans. A clear strategy of how they would take down the gods that he could use to prevent death. But they did not seem very concerned about that, even if Luke looked unbearably smug at Percy’s presence at his side. He would be, Percy concluded. Here was a cosmic confirmation of all he had said in the past. 

 

Instead, they talked about more mundane things. Issues Percy could never see Zeus ever bringing up, too small for the concerns of the gods - How they could help slow down deforestation, and preserve the wild. Keeping an eye on lone demigods, which routes across the country they would clear so they had a higher chance of making it to the camps. 

 

Which monsters were causing trouble to mortals. Which mortals were threatening monsters and demigods alike. Like the children with power the mist had not been able to hide from those with the Sight - a son of Demeter, they had found and released from his own government . Because mortals with the rare gift of Seeing were everywhere. And not all were good. 

 

There was a balance to it - so much different from Olympus’ lack of interference, they acted where was needed and managed resources much more limited, in terms of how many places they could be at once. With a freedom to act Percy never thought the gods would ever allow. 

 

A small doubt formed in his mind - maybe, just maybe, what they wanted was a good thing. But that doubt was soon squashed by the harsh reminder that these people would kill his friends and innocent demigods to get what they wanted. It would be a bloody sacrifice for a new age, one he was not willing to help with. 

 

But it was so tempting to.

He laid awake for hours that night. 

He tried to escape again the following day. This time, he was less subtle, breaking the glass on his window and climbing all the way to the ground instead of entering through the balcony. He had black blood dripping from his hands as a result, but managed to get his feet on dusty ground, and broke into a sprint, as far away from the House as he could. 

 

A few times, he looked back - mostly to see if anyone followed him, but no one did. There were no signs of alarm, the red mist blowing as it had before, no longer burning his lungs like it had before as he fell. 

 

It was a beautiful palace. One would think that there was only so much that could be done with such dark materials, that it would lack depth and be a featureless building, or just look stereotypically evil. He was proven wrong. 

 

In fact, the light cast by the stained glass decorated it like small starbursts in a dark sky, the carved exterior making it ripple in and out of focus as lights flickered. It was beautiful, noble, and ancient. 

 

But he had no time to worry about that, running straight into the woods around the palace. They were composed of white-barked trees, with dark purple and blue leaves like something out of a fantasy. The surface of the trunks was bone dry, almost petrified to the touch, and felt like stone instead of wood. Even then, he broke off a large branch to use as a weapon, walking more carefully now that the leaves provided some cover. 

 

All he had to do was find a way out now. 

 

He stalked forward, trying to leave no traces in the dusty forest floor, stepping over stones when he could. But it was hard - those were few, and the parts not covered by leaves that crunked and broke under his feet was thin dust where it would be impossible to erase his steps. 

 

He did his best. It clearly wasn’t enough. 

 

An arrow knocked the branch off his hands, sending it splintering and falling to the floor. A crossbow belt embedded by his head in a tree nearby almost immediately after. 

 

He tracked where it came from, noting as two shadowy figures dropped from the branches above, stalking towards him with a bow and crossbow drawn. 

 

Percy looked around, looking for something else he could use as a weapon. But there were no rocks he could pick up before being shot, and no branches at all fallen to the forest floor, not even a twig. 

 

“Please-” He begged, not knowing what he was asking for , exactly. 

 

“Well, if you ask so nicely.” A familiar voice replied from under the taller one’s mask and hood - a hood that had silvery deer horns poking out from cuts on it, while the second figure had a collar of black feather around her neck. Both their faces were covered, the features of the stygian iron masks like those of a Greek statue - feminine, but featureless. 

 

They lowered their weapons and pulled out the elements covering their identities, confirming what Percy started to doubt. “Out of a stroll, Percy?” Asked Zoe. 

 

“Zoe. They want to kill Artemis. Bianca, your father…Will the both of you really let that happen?” He tried 

 

“I will shoot her myself.” Replied the former lieutenant. “She barely mourned me, while my sister gave me another chance among my siblings. She took another young girl as lieutenant without even considering- she took Bianca, for Night’s sake!” 

 

Bianca herself nodded. “I know my brother talked to you. I agree with him. I was selfish in abandoning him, and won’t do it again. Not like Hades did. I know you know we make a good argument.” 

 

They did. “Sorry. I can’t. You’re right, the gods are not the best… But there are people I love at stake.” 

 

“The demigods can choose to not fight.” Zoe replied. 

 

“I’m- I know. I killed demigods when Luke and Kronos- it’s not them I’m worried about. My mortal family has nothing to do with this.” 

 

Because… well. Back then, he was ready to fight demigods and monsters alike, wasn’t he? He had killed roman soldiers in Alaska, even if they were dead already. Zoe was not a demigod, but the fourth of the guardians of the golden apples, and her own sisters had forsaken her. 

 

Tyson was a cyclops. And he was his brother. He had consumed the flesh of the Erymanthian Boar, and also ridden it across the country. What was the line between monster and human? He had been asking himself that question long before he fell in Tartarus. 

 

It was no secret people were afraid of him. He saw it in the eyes of the Romans, and even in how a few of his colleagues in Camp Half Blood flinched when training with him. 

 

And now his blood flowed black, not red like a mortal, not gold from an immortal, but something else entirely. 

 

Would they even take him back? Would they believe him at all? 

 

He was afraid to admit he was not sure. 

 

In his silence, the two hunters had vanished back into the shadows, allowing him a choice - stalk forward, or fulfill his promise and pay his debt by renegating his life as a demigod and staying in the Night. 

 

He turned around and retraced his steps, head hung low. What good could he do, coming back and risking being rejected by those he was loyal for, with nothing but a vague warning? Might as well stay and try to reduce damage… save those he could. 

 

A flutter of wind behind him, and the Raven herself had landed in a clearing. Her alias made much more sense now - what he had thought was a cape extended into two shadowy wings, stygian steel absorbing light around. 

 

She opened her arms. 

 

There was no pull around his neck as he stepped forward and accepted her embrace. It had been so long since he had been held like that, with no pressure or judgment. 

 

“I will not ask you to fight.” She whispered. “You deserve to choose your loyalty and your battle. But I cannot have you leaving.” 

 

“I… won’t. I promised.” I chose it.

 

She ran her hand through his hair. Percy realised Zoe and Bianca had probably told her where he was - but if she was here to drag him back, why didn’t they do it themselves? 

 

“You have Fallen already, my hero” She started “The black ichor in all our veins is the gift from the five rivers. A blessing of immortality for as long as you wish it.” 

 

Tears started to run down his face. He had refused it once, so he could grow old with those he loved, not have to see them die. It seemed he would have to, regardless. He found himself less upset about it than he should - So that was what Geras had meant, when he said he would no longer come for him. 

 

“Am I human?” 

 

“Does it matter?” Natalie replied, his face pressed against her shoulder, leaving black leather shiny with tears. “Were you ever?” 

 

He could not reply. It was enough of an answer. There was always a power, a thrill deep down on his soul. He had found it when he first fought Ares, when he took down enemy after enemy. With each victory his remorse had lessened, until it was rare to distinguish between enemy and target on his foggy memories. 

 

“You have fallen long before, Perseus.” She whispered. “The gods were afraid of your power, so they turned you into a tool. Why not embrace darkness? Fight with me or not, you are free to find yourself in this House. We do not abandon those that are ours. I do not.” 

 

He looked into her purple eyes. His family had mourned him. They had not come looking for him. 

 

He moved closer, remembering how her hands had trailed down his body, the adrenaline and excitement from her touch around his neck, cold and hot. His own hands on her shoulders moved to cup the back of her neck before he could even think about what he was doing. 

 

She wanted him to fall? 

 

He would. 

 

Their lips met. A fate sealed, her hand laid atop his heart again, the brand underneath burning like fire. With a wisp of shadow, they were back in his bedroom, falling on his bed as the kiss deepened. 

 

He had kissed Annabeth many times before. But there was always an expectancy from her, that he should take control, that he knew what he was doing. With Natalie, he surrendered all that, once more pliant under her touch. It was freeing, and should feel like a sin, like something dirty, and a betrayal. 

 

It didn’t. 

More days passed. Weeks. 

 

He would sit in on the meetings. Eventually, he started to see issues with their plans - routes to keep demigods safe they didn’t, issues they did not have the experience to resolve. And give his input on those issues. 

 

He expected to be met with demands he helped fight the gods as well - because they started to mention plans, and there were more flaws in Olympus’ defences than he previously thought. Those demands never came. There was a limit to how much harm to his friends Percy was willing to bring, but that limit seemed thinner by the day, a line growing more and more blurry. 

 

After Gaea, he expected things to change. But slowly, his friends settled into their own lives - Jason taking his place in Camp Half Blood, Reyna and Frank as praetors. And not one of them questioned the lack of actual change in the way things were going. Maybe Percy was spending too long with Luke, but he could not help but resent his former companions. All his suffering for nothing, just waiting for one more fight. 

 

Until, one day, a final event came in the form of a private summons by Nat to the throne room. It would not be the first time she did that - usually, she just had him sit or kneel by her side as she dealt with issues from the underworld, running the Night like a queen. Percy had asked why Nyx was not the one to do so, to which she had replied: the Night tries to maintain the magic integrity of the universe. I do not rule because she is too busy for small matters, or because she does not want to do it, but because I wish to help the best I can, and am impartial among my siblings. Otherwise, they would beg for the favour of my mother, and get nothing done.

 

A few of those meetings had ended up with more kisses against the throne of night - a fallen star, dark light like a black flame in the shape of a crystal in a darker hall. Most of them, with lessons on the immortal politics of the world, those beyond the bickering and petty disputes of Olympus. 

 

He expected more of the same when he attended. But the hall was empty, Natalie not sitting regally in her throne, but staring out from a purple stained window. She seemed upset and worried, rubbing her hands against each other. 

 

“Percy…” She started when he approached. “I am afraid that my news are not pleasant. And I am truly sorry for having to tell you this. There was nothing we could do. I would have, you have my word and my honour.” 

 

His heart sank, a cold feeling deep in his stomach. “Who… who died?” 

 

“... Your mother.” She hesitated. “And stepfather. And sister.” 

 

It took a few seconds for the reality of those words to sink in. “What…?”

 

“She had a complication in her pregnancy. Your stepfather rushed to the hospital to meet them, and was victim of an accident.” 

 

Her words felt unreal, like it was a report to someone else, a different Percy. His own body felt numb, and he slid to his knees. “Hera… Artemis, Apollo, they…” 

 

“They did nothing. There was no reason.” 

 

What was a mortal family, among many, when they no longer seemed to motivate a hero’s loyalty? 

 

“They… Oh.” He hiccuped, tears flowing down his face without his notice. Natalie kneeled by his side, cradling him like a wounded bird. He gripped her arms, hard enough to bruise, and yet she did not complain. 

 

There they stayed, until tears stopped flowing, and dried like blood against his face, like that first night in this place. As a last tether to the past snapped, and he was free falling once again. 

 

She pulled him to his feet, allowing to lean between her and a pillar as she whispered again. “hey betrayed you. Loyalty must be earned, and they crossed you every step of the way. They did not fulfil their oaths, and now Styx wants them to pay. How would you like to help us see that it’s done? Do you want justice, and revenge?” 

 

He knew what she was doing. Offering a choice to release his feelings. It was manipulative. It was wrong. 

 

It felt like what he needed. He had long since stopped being the hero of Olympus, although she still called him by that. 

 

There was not much else to lose. 

 

“…. I do.” He replied. 

 

 “And do you give me your loyalty?” She asked for 

 

“ I do.” He said, with no hesitation this time. His heart had left Olympus long ago, and now found a new home. Her support of him wavered, and his legs failed, leaving him kneeling at her feet, gripping the back of her legs. She bent down, brushing his face.

 

She lifted him up once again, supporting his weight to the door. 

 

There, watching and waiting, was Nico, his face a rare but familiar sight among them. He offered an arm, which Percy took, as his friend led him to his room. He helped him lay on his bed, but when the son of Hades turned around to leave, Percy held on to his shirt.

 

“I…” 

 

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Stay? Hold me? He had his purpose, but grief is not solved by revenge. 

 

Nico did not need another word. He slipped under the cover with him, holding Percy much like Nat had. He fell asleep.

 

He was still there when he woke up from a dreamless night, like all others. In this House, for the first time, he could slumber without the fear of seeing things he tried to avoid, the Oneiroi and Hypnos leaving him alone for once. What woke him that day was not cold sweat and fear, but the warmth of another body by his side. 

 

They stayed together for some time. Until Nico broke the silence. 

 

“I should apologise.” 

 

“For what?” Percy asked. Betraying me? He almost added, but Nico had only been acting the way he thought best. 

 

“Their death finally brought you to me. I can’t say I am sorry for that. It’s selfish, that even then, there’s something I’d like to ask of you. It doesn’t have to mean anything… but…” 

 

“What do you want from me, Nico?” Percy asked. 

 

“A kiss. Just one.” The other man replied. 

 

And Percy complied. More than once. He found he had been wishing the same thing for some time now - and it should feel wrong, because he also had feelings for Nat, feelings that grew beyond the physical with each passing day. But it did not, and he would later learn that, in this place, his happiness mattered much more than rules he had taught himself. 

 

Nico’s hands pulled on the band of ink and iron against his neck, and it no longer felt heavy at all. 

 

The gods had made him into an attack dog. Natalie, a guardian at her feet. He found that the second option fit him much better. 

 

So, the next time they sat to discuss their plans, he took the sculpted animal behind his head proudly as an alias. 

 

He was a Hound, and it was time to work. 

Chapter 3: 3 - I've seen Hell rise

It was December in New Rome. It did not snow, unlike what Annabeth was used to in Camp Half Blood, and normally the city and Camp Jupiter did not get any less intense either. In fact, the only real difference was lower temperatures, small weather changes, the Romans blessed with a stability and union the Greeks did not. Much like their historical counterparts, Rome had a single core, while Greece was a syncretism of so many different people that united when needed, bickered and fought when not. 

 

This was not to say the Greeks were less - no, even when torn apart by a war where they were the ones to fight the frontlines, with much less preparation, numbers, weapons and warning, they had held their own against the Romans. But Annabeth would be a liar if she said she didn’t love the grandiose architecture and temples she was allowed to study in college. 

 

The architect of Olympus, that was her official title. And she loved it. Her peers always gawked at her projects, especially when she showed them the ones that actually made it to the house of the gods, and she silently preened in pride from it. 

 

But something hurt, deep in her chest, every time she gathered with her other friends at New Rome through these years - an absence, Seven made Six before the final fight had even begun. She could still remember climbing Percy’s body as he hauled her up, desperately rolling away from the edge of the Pit… only to look back and see as Nico’s arms gave in, and Percy fell down. She didn’t even get to say goodbye. He was there one moment and in the next… gone. 

 

He was the one to give her the idea of New Rome as a future in the first place. And he was not there by her side as she graduated and started to work with the Romans and the Greeks, building the greatest temples they had ever seen since the Middle Ages. 

 

It had been a hard battle, after he was gone. In the practical sense, but also mentally - she could see it in all of the crew of the Argo, how it hit them that even the strongest of them could fall in battle. At first, they weren’t that worried - if anyone could survive in Tartarus, it was Percy. He was going to reach the Doors, and find a way to come back to them in Epirus. 

 

Then… the elevator doors opened. Annabeth was there to see, trembling in expectation, just waiting for that sassy smile, maybe a bit ragged from the days of struggle. The worst case scenario was for him to be injured - but they had nectar and ambrosia. It would be fine. 

 

What she didn’t expect was to see Riptide piercing a button on the inside, blood still dripping from its blade - red, mortal blood - and no one to be seen. 

 

Someone had to hold the doors closed in Tartarus. 

 

Nico had warned them, and all Annabeth could picture was Percy stabbing the elevator, covered in blood, and willingly facing hordes of monsters, weaponless, holding his ground until they were back in the mortal world. She could see it, clear as day, as he succumbed after that, thousands of different ways he could have fallen, and hoped that the ones closer to the truth were those with the least pain. 

 

Percy was loyal and stubborn to a fault. He would never stay there if he could help it, he would always come back, that she was sure of. He would fight to his last breath. And yet it had not been enough to come back home. 

 

She grieved for a long time, and was finally starting to get better. The days were getting easier, and the peace from the past three years had been a blessing. 

 

Then, Camp Half Blood was attacked. 

 

It happened fast - right as campers had left home for winter, only the year-rounders staying behind. A rift had opened inside their borders, monsters pouring out with snarls on their faces and sharp weapons in hands and talons. Each time one fell, more replaced them, in what seemed like an unending wave. 

 

Eventually, however, their numbers trickled down, and the rift closed itself. But damage was done - the magical barrier keeping the worst of the snow and the cold out was taken down, as the demigods and satyrs were overwhelmed and a few snuck past them, beheading Peleus and stealing the Golden Fleece, poison poured in the roots of the tree much like Luke had done so long ago. (And that brought its own kind of pain and memory for the survivors of the Titan War.) 

 

This time, it acted faster. There was no time to find a cure or even to slow it down, the roots growing weaker with the hours, needles falling and whitering before their eyes. 

 

They ran. Piper called Reyna and Jason, who in turn sent their vans as fast as they could, storm spirits and Arion meeting them halfway. At first, they intended to just keep the younger and untrained campers in New Rome for the time being, but with how fast their walls were coming down, and how many monsters were being spotted nearby… it was better to abandon it all. And hope the Gods would keep the place safe, that the buildings at least would be kept intact now that there were no demigods to attract monsters. 

 

Weirdly enough, the journey back to New Rome was peaceful, with little to no attacks to their convoy. Reyna and Jason welcomed them with open arms, the second having restored his position as Praetor when Hazel and Frank gave it up. Octavian’s actions made it clear that the Romans needed someone they knew and trusted to lead them alongside Reyna, someone who would not be questioned in any matter… and Jason fit the position the best. 

 

Now, the Greeks were welcomed to newly built barracks. There was some hostility, mainly coming from the campers who lost someone in that final battle and the older, more traditional soldiers and senators. But it was a time of crisis, and neither side wanted more conflict. The Greeks carried their weight, some joined in on training, and a balance was found. 

 

Through it all, there was no word from Olympus. The gods were distant and unheard of for weeks as they burned offerings and begged for aid, but not even a whisper of a prophecy was sent to their Oracles, Rachel included. They said it was almost as if the power of divination was taken away from them, the smoke and entrails giving them only chaos and random patterns. Demigods were plagued by nightmares, but not those of the future. Instead, the hellish dreams showed the past, other times of need where they hit their most desperate points. 

 

For the crew of the Argo, and the war veterans… that was almost torture. There was no clue if Olympus would open its doors for them on the upcoming Solstice, but they could only hope they would get some answers then. Meanwhile, waiting was a slow death, tension and boredom fighting to see which one would motivate something to change, fights bubbling just under the skin of them all. 

 

So, Annabeth would admit she would take anything to break that impasse.

 

Unfortunately, the something was yet another rift opening in the earth right as the sun set. 

 

It was a normal day, demigods going about their business and preparing the fields for the war games that night, Annabeth watching as they put up walls and dug trenches at an impressive speed, now on the finishing touches. 

 

Then, the ground started shaking. At first, they thought it was just an earthquake, like many that happened in this region. But instead of petering out, it grew more and more pronounced, until people were scrambling out of buildings, the more delicate ones starting to crack and crumble.

 

After that, the field where the training would happen split open, red mist pouring out flying monsters at first, then more and more climbed their way out, in a scale much more massive than the one seen at Camp Half Blood. 

 

The Romans were quick to react, weapons drawn and firing alongside the Greeks as golden dust showered from the clouds and covered the fields. But it seemed that, for each of the dracaenae they took down, two cynocephali took their place, basilisks spitting their venom over them and flames jumping towards the warriors. 

 

A lot of the Greeks were still injured from fighting, and many Romans were busy making sure buildings didn’t fall, dosing fires and helping evacuate those who could not fight. New Rome had been attacked before, but always from the borders, never from the core of the city, and, as earthquake resistant as Roman building methods were, they were not infallible when the hypocenter of it was the city itself.  

 

They held out as best as they could, and slowly, pushed the frontlines towards the rift. It almost seemed like they would win, if things kept as they were. 

 

So of course they didn’t. From the rift, a multilayered hiss echoed, and nine heads rose from the fog. Nine reptilian heads were followed by a lizard’s body, acid pouring from their mouths and turning the battlefield into an acidic swamp. People scrambled to get away from it as Reyna shouted for fire, following the one known method to kill it. 

 

Annabeth’s blood ran cold, her hand tight on her borrowed sword as the red mist crawled forward, the smell of sulphur and rot making her gag. It took Piper grabbing her by the arm and pulling her away to save her from the corroding mud, the two girls running in a panic from the heads and swishing tail. Seemingly uncaring about the other smaller monsters, the Hydra hit the other monsters, peppering the mud with golden dust. Soon, the ones that were left retreated back to the rift in panic. 

 

Chains were shot from both sides, trying to slow down the beast, and Annabeth wished Leo and Festus were there - but the young inventor and his dragon were away, responding to a distress call from a demigod too far away to come back in time. 

 

A second roar sounded from the rift to Tartarus - because there was nowhere else that thing could lead, Annabeth could recognise the smell of it, the hot and acrid air. From the fog, another unbeatable beast leaped, claws digging gouges in the acid, unphased by it. After all… The Nemean Lion was invulnerable. 

 

Through the chaos and smoke of the battle, it took Annabeth a second to spot the figure on the dragon’s back, too focused on running towards the river alongside the rest of the troops as they regrouped. She expected the lion to race towards them, she had seen how fast it was… 

 

But it was too busy shaking itself off, a cloaked person holding tight on a chain wrapped around its neck. It was like watching a cat with something stuck in its fur, only much bigger and ferocious, its tail sending waves of mud in the air. Some of it even landed in the Hydra, making it turn around with a hiss. 

 

The second its eighteen eyes landed on the struggle happening behind it, it was as if it changed its mind, ignoring the waves of demigods and focusing on the single fighter atop the lion, trying to break free from the chains around its paws. The demigods took advantage of that, wrapping even more of those on the beast, Hazel even summoning chunks of precious metals around its paws.  

 

Meanwhile, Annabeth couldn’t take her eyes away from the new fighter. The lion thrashed up, sending them flying as the chain unwrapped from its neck. It roared, opening its maw to try and swallow them whole. 

 

In the last second, however, the caped fighter threw a familiar, glowing green vial directly in the Lion’s mouth, chain moving through the air as if it had a mind of its own and wrapping around its snout. With its mouth shut, the Nemean had no choice but to swallow an entire vial of greek fire. 

 

Externally, there was no change - just smoke pouring from its nostrils as it fell, lifeless. The person was thrown from their landing on its head, sent rolling directly towards the river and the Hydra. 

 

The reptile itself had broken free of the chains, corroding them down with acid as it scampered as fast as it could towards the person in the ground. It was faster than the demigods, and arrows did nothing to its thick scales. Annabeth could only watch as it reared up, forgetting its heads entirely, blinded by hate and bloodlust against this single individual. 

 

It hit the ground with its sharp claws, sending a tremor that resonated in her bones. But it missed by a hair, the person rolling away and dodging its heads. Something about the way they moved was familiar, but at the distance, with the hood and mask on their face, Annabeth could not say who they were. 

 

Recognition would come soo, however. The person ran towards them, the Hydra hot on their tail, every now and then having to throw their body out of the way of the heads that tried to bite them. 

 

Using the distraction, the Romans crossed the Little Tiber, hoping the water could give them protection against the beast. Annabeth knew she was supposed to follow them - they had no Greek fire, and most warriors were either injured or too little to fight the thing off. 

 

But she stayed close enough to see when the person stumbled, the Hydra coming down to bite their head off… And to throw her knife without even thinking, watching as it embedded itself on the monster’s neck, giving the person enough time to dodge once more. 

 

Now close to the river, the Hydra seemed to notice its prey was about to escape. It opened its maw, spitting out acid towards the mysterious individual. They lifted their hands, as if to block the corrosive liquid, as Annabeth tried to scream, tell them to run, that would not work-

 

Except it did. Instead of following gravity, the acid seemed to hit an invisible shield, spraying to the sides and floating up. The person waved their hands towards the Hydra, hitting one of its heads in its eyes, making it shriek and recoil in pain. 

 

“Could it be?”  Annabeth asked herself. She only knew of one person who could control liquids like that. And he was supposed to be dead. 

 

But Percy Jackson was never one to follow what was expected of him. As the Hydra recovered, he raised his arms, the water of the Little Tiber following his gestures. The wave hit the monster like a solid wall of concrete, sending it sprawling back into the mud. Pushed forward by the water, he - and Annabeth wanted to believe it was him - pushed forward, a white sword coming from his back, previously hidden by the cape. 

 

The Hydra tried to get up, but water held it down, pushing its feet from under it, wrapping around its heads and pushing through its nostrils and mouth. It thrashed, trying to get up and break free, agonising as the river entered its lungs. Almost calmly, the man walked over its body, digging the sword where the Hydra’s heart struggled to beat.

 

It stilled, blood and water coming from the deep wound, like a small geyser as the man pulled his white blade free. 

 

Annabeth rushed forward, the mud now safe to the touch as the acid was washed away by the river. She could hear people running across it behind her as it returned to its course and once more laid on its margins. But she had only one thing in her mind. 

 

When she was mere steps away from him, the man collapsed. She managed to catch him before he hit his head, wheezing breaths coming from his lungs under her hands as she checked for wounds. Finding none, she held his head between her hands, noting those green-blue eyes staring back. 

 

“ Percy-” She said, as his consciousness left him. 

 

But they had nectar and ambrosia, and the healers of Apollo were already there. He would be fine. 

 

He was back. That was all that mattered. 

Percy woke up in a soft bed, with sheets covering his body and a sweet scent in the air. He kept his eyes closed for a second more, listening to what was around him, the sounds of construction and people talking. 

 

New Rome. 

 

Satisfied no one seemed to be in the room with him, he opened his eyes. His body was sore, but not as much as it should be, the black blood in his veins doing its job of healing him, a gift from the Phlegedon. 

 

They had taken off his cape and mask, but allowed him to keep the loose shirt underneath and the leather pants. The steel vambraces, his belt and boots were by the bedside table, as well as vials of nectar and a bottle of water. He was sure someone would check on him soon, so it made no sense to get up and explore the room any further. He was supposed to be weakened from years living in Taratus and fighting for his life, after all. 

 

Thankfully, the illusion Nat had placed over him seemed to be in place. The Nox chariot tattoo in his arm had been replaced by a burn scar, with pieces of a copy of the SPQR mark peeking from the twisted corners. As it was a magical marking, they could not copy it without suspicion… But there were so many monsters in the Pit, surely something could justify the burn being covered by a different one. 

 

The black band of his collar was also gone, as was the sigil of the Night Raven, Nat’s personal symbol, over his heart. He pulled a bit of his hair in front of his eyes, even if he knew it wasn’t an illusion, but Silena and Bianca messing around with a few boxes of hair dye. After accepting Nyx’s deal, the lock of grey hair had vanished, and it was simple to just dye it back. He didn’t plan on staying here long enough for it to be noticeable, and the less they changed through magic, the better. 

 

For the same reason, all his multiple new scars had stayed. Through his time with the Night, his frame had changed - he had grown slightly taller, body more toned and lithe, and his skin had taken an ashy tone from lack of natural sunlight. This was also all expected. 

 

No, the main change was the colour of his blood. It was a trickier part of the illusion - and crossing any stronger wards or anyone with the Sight would make it come crashing down. But for anyone who expected it to be red, that’s how it would seem. All he had to do was not get hurt in front of Rachel, at least for now. Which would be easy, with the latest blessing he had been granted. 

 

Before he could dwell more on his plans, the door opened, rushed footsteps coming to his bedside. His sea green eyes met stormy grey ones, framed by blonde curls that were once more familiar. 

 

“Hey, Annabeth.” He smiled, maybe a bit forced, but it grew more genuine as a familiar mop of black hair poked from behind her shoulder. “Nico.” 

 

He pushed himself up, allowing Annabeth to help him. She threw her arms around his neck once he had his back supported by pillows, pressing the camp beads against his throat. 

 

Percy’s eyes met Nico’s, as the rest of the Argo crew trailed in, looks of disbelief in their faces. 

 

With steely resolve, Nico nodded. Everything was as they planned, and now, they could start taking down the Olympians. 

 

From the inside.

 

 

Chapter 4: 4 - There’s a serpent in these still waters, lying deep down

Notes:

I'd like to thank to everyone who commented on this!!! your comments make me so happy and make me want to write more!!!! thank you!!!!

“Percy!” Said Hazel by Leo’s side, jumping up and down in the excitement of seeing her old friend again. Leo could relate, even if he hadn’t met the guy properly before the whole Tartarus… kerfuffle. 

 

“Hazel! Everyone!” Percy cheered from behind Annabeth’s hair. She was still clinging to him, face buried in his neck as he stroked the back of her head with one hand, supporting all their weight with the other. 

 

Leo had to admit, he didn’t look as bad as they all had thought - sure, he looked thinner, and there was a whole new collection of scarring on his arms and neck, even a gash on his cheek, that made it very clear things weren’t exactly easy for the son of Poseidon. His hair was longer, the lock of grey hair much more pronounced, and his cheeks, hollow. Percy clearly hadn't been eating that much, but honestly, when Annabeth told Leo that he had come back, alive, he fully expected a starved, emaciated and sickly man. 

 

But there was something about him - a darkness, a radiating cold. Before, being close to Percy felt like being on a cliff by a raging sea, feeling droplets hit your face and smelling brine and salt, fully aware of the power before you, but safe from it. Now… 

 

The second Leo entered the room he felt it. The pressure, the bone chilling cold of the ocean’s deepest trenches, untouched by sunlight, populated only by deformed creatures, lurking and killing whatever was weaker than them. And this Percy was on top of the food chain. 

 

He could tell Hazel felt it too, feeling her shiver under his hand on her shoulder. His smile when seeing them didn’t quite reach his eyes, dark whirlpools that threatened to sink the entire crew of the Argo like the maw of Charybdis. 

 

For a split second, Leo, child of fire and forges, understood why Poseidon was so feared by even the other gods. And how exponential the difference in power between them and Percy had become. Because while they rested, and healed, he had kept on fighting, and it would only have taken a single defeat, alone, to end his existence. 

 

Percy had done what not even the Olympians had before - survived Tartarus, not just for a fast venture, but for what should amount to a lifetime in battles. It made Leo feel even smaller, more inadequate, when not even the presence of Jason by his side could abate the insignificance of them all when compared to him. 

 

“Nice outfit.” He said instead of running away screaming. 

 

“Huh, thanks? It’s, hm. Drakon leather.” His voice sounded like shit, like he had a cough and decided to treat it by drinking acid. 

 

That made Annabeth pull away from him, and actually look at what he was wearing. She adjusted his collar, pulling out the Camp beads from the inside of the shirt and letting them rest on his chest. “It smells like shit.” She said. 

 

“Not many showers in Hell, my bad.” He replied with a smile. It seemed to break the weird tension in the room. If Percy was joking about it… well, things were going to be fine. So Leo threw himself on the patch of bed that was clear, grabbing at the material. 

 

“Cool as fuck though.” Slowly, the other crew members trailed in, sitting on the floor around the bed or leaning against the walls. 

 

“Are you feeling better, Percy?” Asked Hazel. “You fainted after taking down the Hydra.” 

 

“And the Nemean Lion.” Added Frank. “Why do you have to make an entrance every time you arrive in New Rome?” 

 

Percy chuckled, nudging Annabeth so she sat in only one of his legs and he could see the entire group. “I should be fine. It’s the red mist, that’s how the air is… down there. It’s poison, but I su- guess my body grew used to it.” 

 

“Like a diver depressurising!” Annabeth said. 

 

“I guess? I never had that problem but, sure?” There was a strain to his smile, and the thought of the poisonous air probably brought back bad memories.

 

Frank whistled. “Damn.” Which about summed it all up. 

 

Percy shook his head. “Anyway. I’m so happy to be back, you have no idea. It’s been… two years?” 

 

“Three.” Corrected Jason. 

 

Percy ran a hand through his hair, making flakes of ash, dirt, and something that looked like dried blood fall off, but he acted as if he didn’t even notice. “Oh… Well, you have to update me on the gossip then. What happened? With Gaea? And, oh gods, my mom, Paul, my sister!” Unshed tears glittered in his eyes as he spoke, not noticing how they all avoided his eyes. “What name did Mom pick? No, no, let her tell me- What’s wrong?” 

 

“Percy…” Annabeth started, moving from his leg to kneeling on the floor. “I’m so sorry…” 

 

“No.” He said, standing up abruptly. And Leo noticed he had not grown more frail, but taller. 

 

“It- the doctors tried their best.” Annabeth almost whispered, standing to meet his eyes. But he turned his face away. 

 

His breath came out shaky. 

 

“Percy…” Started Hazel. 

 

“I need a minute.” Percy replied, stalking towards the door. Jason and Frank hustled away from his path, eyes wide as the closing door echoed in the room. 

Percy might not have spent long in Camp Jupiter, but he still remembered the layout very well. And, even if he didn’t, the Team had spent months planning their next steps - and that included memorising the exact position of all buildings in New Rome. 

 

So, it was not hard to find a secluded corner near the infirmary. He saw as the demigods of the Argo walked out, looking for him, but expecting him to go far away from where he really was. Looking for an old Percy that would run to a river, or his father’s temple. 

 

But this shadow between rubble was much more comforting. 

 

“Hey.” Said a raspy voice by his side, materialising from shadows. “They bought it.” 

 

“I wasn’t fully acting.” He replied to Nico. “I- It still hurts.” 

 

“I know, caro mio. ” Nico wrapped his hand across his shoulders, and Percy leaned to rest on his partner. “We have to go see Reyna.” 

 

They were well hidden enough for Percy to press a kiss on Nico’s neck. “Yeah. I missed you.” 

 

Natalie and Silena had decided that, for appearance’s sake, he should look properly roughed up. That consisted of them throwing him into this new outfit, tying a piece of orange cloth that was previously hanging from a hellhou’s collar on his belt, and kicking him to actually spend a month or so in Tartarus with no help. After, of course, going ham with hair dye, a pair of scissors, and magic illusions on him. 

 

He had seen his partners briefly, when she portalled him to the spot where the three of them opened the first and then second rifts. It was easier than it should be, another signal of the growing instability caused by the Olympian’s reign - an earthquake from his part, and New Rome started to shake. 

 

He was aware of which lies he was supposed to tell. All of his friends seemed to think he was an honest and trustworthy person, forgetting how many situations he had bluffed his way out of. But Perseus “rock-paper-scissors-gun” Jackson was much better at deception than any of them could guess. 

 

He lingered in the comfort of Nico’s arms for a few minutes. But they had a job to do, and for it to work, well. They were just friends. 

 

So they pushed themselves up, Nico handing him the boots he had left behind. His storming off was not a part of the plan, but, oh well. It gave his reaction more credibility. The shorter man flagged down one of the Lares, telling the spirit to go fetch the Argo crew. 

 

It was time for the conversation that would make or break this part of their plan - Convincing one Reyna Avila Ramires Arellano. 

She waited by the Senate, warned by the spirits that Percy was awake and on his way, as well as the so-called Seven. Percy supposed they would amount to seven demigods, with him here now. Reyna looked as regal as ever, even if the stress of being Praetor was starting to show on her face. 

 

“Percy. Welcome back.” She greeted, scrutinizing him from head to toe. “We should talk.” 

 

Once more, the praetor guided them to the room where she had first interrogated him. Except this time Jason sat on the other Praetor’s chair, looking uneasy. Percy knew he didn’t want the position - Nat and Nico had told him as much. But after Octavian, there weren’t many good choices left. 

 

Aurum and Argentum barked, coming to heel by the foot of the two chairs. Their unnerving red eyes glimmered straight into Percy’s soul, and they let out a low growl. 

 

Reyna raised an eyebrow.

 

“I just came from Tartarus.” Percy explained. “They probably smell… a whole lot of monsters on me, if I’m being honest.” 

 

“Considering they haven’t killed you yet,” She replied “I’ll assume you are.” 

 

Because that was the most delicate part of this whole thing - the dogs, who would maul him the second he told a single lie. But he couldn't refuse to have them there, or avoid giving his testimony to Reyna. 

 

Gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss the magic dogs it was, then. 

 

“This is stupid!” Exclaimed Annabeth. “It’s Percy, why are you treating this as if it was an interrogation?” 

 

“Annabeth, it’s okay.” Percy replied. “It wouldn't be the first time we have something pretending to be one of us.” The memory of the Argo II raining fire over New Rome was still very, very fresh. “Ask away, Reyna, Jason.” 

 

“You know what we want to know. What happened after you fell, and how did you come back? What is down there, and what is causing these attacks?” 

 

“I can’t answer everything.” Percy replied. Not because he did not know the answers, but because it was against his own interests, but that was not a lie. “But I’ll tell you what I can.” 

 

“Falling took forever. I was not awake for most of it - and I only survived because I landed in one of the Five Rivers. They flow there after passing through the Hades, and are basically the only source of water, but you can really only drink from the fire one. It heals you, and keeps you alive, but it hurts to do it. There isn’t much to eat either, and sometimes, pieces of the mortal world fall down there. The air is poison and acid, the ground is volcanic glass and even the trees are petrified. Monsters don’t become dust there, they just… die, and start to reform somewhere else. Reyna, that place… it’s the antithesis of the surface, and even the underworld. It tries to kill you with every step, makes you weaker with each breath, and there are things living there that you better pray never see the light of day.”

 

The faces of the other demigods were grim, looking down and not meeting his eyes as he stood in the center of a circle. All except for Reyna and Nico. 

 

“To close the Doors… Well. They need to be closed from both sides. So… Riptide to press the button inside, after cutting the chains.” He acted as if remembering the fight was too much to bear, head low and eyes distant, when in fact he was merely recalling what Nat told him she had done to fake his death. “Hold the button from the outside as well. I- I’ll spare you the details. But in the end, the doors were closed and I was breathing, but there wasn’t any way out that I could see. So I just… stayed.”

 

He could hear the demigods behind him breathing deeply, shoes scuffing against the marble floor. Jason and Reyna themselves looked sickened by the implications of his story.

 

Percy could not lie to the dogs. This didn’t mean he had to tell the full truth of what happened either - or they’d have killed him that first meeting, when he had no memories. 

 

“I don’t know everything that’s gonna happen.” because things don’t always go to plan, “But there’s a group of warriors there. They live and fight and train, and hate the gods, and call themselves the House of Night.” 

 

He heard Annabeth take a sharp breath, as Jason and Reyna’s heads shot up. “By night, you mean… The Night?” Asked Annabeth. 

 

“Yeah.” He replied. “There’s eight of them, they go by codenames sometimes, and wear masked helmets. Hare, Dove, Spider, Doe, Vulture, Snake, Hound… and their leader, Raven.” 

 

“Those aren’t godly names.” Said Reyna. Percy took a few steps back, the others moving so they were all in a proper circle and he could see their faces. 

 

“They aren’t gods. They’re not all demigods either, but I think most of them are. They are powerful , Reyna. More than any of you. We’ve fought, and they almost killed me several times.” during training, he didn’t say. “But these clothes, this gear, it came from their armoury. I know what they’re planning, and it’s not looking good for Olympus.” Let them think he stole it, instead of it being tailor made for him. 

 

He took a deep breath, thinking his exact wording for the next part as their faces paled. “They want to kill the Olympians. And honestly? I think this time they might just manage.” 

 

“We beat Gaea, and she was a goddess.” Said Leo. “I know it easn’t easy, fuck, out of everyone here- But she was a primordial , and those are just… some guys.” 

 

“The House of Night is not just some guys.” Said Nico. “I didn’t… Well, I wasn’t in that jar for long. But even the giants are afraid of Her.” 

 

“Who are you talking about?” Asked Frank. 

 

“Nox.” Replied Reyna, before Percy could. “The Night. The Greeks… you call her Nyx. Myths say she’s the first goddess, and Jupiter once cowered from her. She’s the only one he truly fears. Percy… is she the one behind all this?” 

 

“Yeah. She… well, the rumours… She grew tired of the Olympians. She warned them, told them to be better, and they didn’t listen too caught up in hubris. As always. So, She’s taking matters into Her own hands, along with all Her kids. Y'know, Hemera. Eris. The others. And this group of warriors are leading it. Nyx is much more powerful than Gaea, and much, much older.”

 

“So… the chances are very slim.” Reyna’s mouth was a thin line. “What else do you know?” 

 

“I can’t tell you much more, Reyna. Sorry.” 

 

“What…” Jason hesitated. “What should we do?” 

 

“Honestly?” Percy replied, even if the question seemed to be to the room at large. “Don’t fight. You can’t win this time. And, she kind of has a point? The Olympians haven’t been… great.” 

 

Hazel gasped, looking up, waiting for Jupiter to strike him down on the spot. “Percy, what?” 

 

“Hey, hey!” He raised his hands. “It is me, Percy, I’m not possessed or anything. You all know I wouldn't hurt the ones I love and am loyal to either. Just saying, Zeus is kind of a dick.” 

 

“That 's… impertinent.” Said Reyna, hand on her dagger.” 

 

“I’m impertinent.” Percy replied. “I said you shouldn’t fight. But I know you will.” 

 

Frank put an arm across his shoulder. “That 's right. Rome doesn’t fall without a fight!” 

 

“But will you fight?” Reyna said. “I… could understand if you didn’t. It’s been a lot for you.” 

 

Percy’s eyes were steely when he met hers and replied. “I promise you, I will be a part of this battle.” 

 

She nodded, deeming his response acceptable. “Now. What should we do, then?” 

 

“There’s one more thing.” Percy added, the final pieces of the plan slotting into place. “You shouldn't tell anyone what I told you.” 

 

“Why?” Asked Nico, eyes narrowing. 

 

“Because Raven sent spies. And they could be anyone. So…” 

 

“So, not a word of this leaves these walls.” Finished reyna, standing up, followed by her dogs and Jason. “This information needs to go to Olympus, in the winter solstice. Percy, recover, rest, and you all leave as soon as possible. I’ll stay behind and hold things together.”

 

“I’ll help you out.” Said Nico. “The Greeks and the Romans trust me, and I can shadow travel to help if they need it.” 

 

She nodded, deciding their quest. 

 

“Ooooh boy!” Leo cheered. “The Seven are back together! Those people won’t see what hit them!” 

That night, Annabeth stared at the waning moon, growing smaller and smaller by the day, as the nights grew darker and colder. It felt ominous, like a warning from the skies. But without any functioning oracles, there wasn’t much they could do to see if the omen was good or bad. 

 

Footsteps behind her made her startle, a heavy presence approaching like a stalking predator. Her hand went to her dagger, finding an empty sheat - her blade was still being fixed by Leo, after being corroded by the Hydra’s blood. But something was approaching from the slightly unkempt garden of grapevines around the little temple to Bacchus, the very same Reyna had brought her to. 

 

She readied herself to a fight when a silhouette could be seen between the leaves, a hand pushing them away…

 

To reveal Percy walking in, two plastic cups of coffee in a cardboard support in a hand, the other fighting to disentangle a leaf from his unkempt hair. He had taken a long Roman bath, so it sat fluffy and spiky on his head, even more punk and skater style than before. 

 

His clothes were clean now, too. A plain green shirt and jeans, borrowed from Jason, the one closest to his size in their group. They'd go shopping for some clothes for him in New Rome the next day, but honestly the outfit he had shown up wearing deserved to be burned. 

 

“Hey.” He said, handing her a cup like an offering. “Can’t sleep either?” 

 

She shook her head. She had stalked out of the dining room, the noise and confusion too much for her head as things were. From what she could gather, the commotion of Percy’s return had died out, but some people still took the chance to party and feast. They leaned together on the marble balcony, watching the stars. 

 

“Yeah. It’s weird to be back. Guess I got used to, like. The dirt and screeching. That’s so fucked up.” 

 

She snorted. “A little bit.” Their arms were close, but not touching, even if all of her wanted to touch him. To feel his hands on her, and his lips against her skin, all over her body. 

 

Annabeth put down her coffee by her side, running a hand over his forearm, tracing the new scars. 

 

“About this spy situation…” He started. “I don’t think we should trust Nico.” 

 

She tilted her head. Nico had been of such help, after he fell. Helping return the statue, helping them fight. Rebuild. Everyone in New Rome and CHB had grown to, if not like him, at least respect the son of Hades. “Why?” 

 

“He was there too. Trapped. We have no idea what happened between his kidnapping and us rescuing him. And you saw his face today, during the audience with Reyna. He was suspicious.” 

 

The daughter of Athena supposed he was right. He had found Percy surprisingly fast, almost as if he had been keeping an eye on him from the beginning. And it would make sense, wouldn't it? Percy coming back probably threw a wrench in the plan of the House of Night, spilling their secrets and information, like they knew he would. 

 

So him telling Nico he knew of a spy wasn’t a big issue. If anything, it might make him think they trusted him even more. And it wasn’t confirmed, of course, so she wouldn’t accuse him without a plan. But he had access to a lot of very dangerous information. 

 

Like the open space in Camp Jupiter. And which poison had been used in Thalia’s tree, where the Fleece was, and a lot of other weaknesses. 

 

But right now, she had her boyfriend back. The night was cold, but not unbearable, and music drifted from the dining pavilion as fireflies started to fly around them. She laced their fingers together, tracing the back of his hand with her thumb. 

 

“Annabeth-” He started, turning towards her. 

 

She stood on her toes, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Hm?” She said, leaning her face towards his, lips parting slightly… 

 

Only to feel his calloused hand on her cheek, stopping her, pulling her away. It was as if a bucket of cold water was poured on her head, and left her gasping. 

 

“Sorry. I- I can’t do this. Not anymore.” 

 

She had been yearning and missing him all of those years, and now that he was back… he rejected her? 

 

“Why?” 

 

“It’s just… Look. When you fall into that place. It changes you. Only monsters survive in Tartarus. And I had to do some things… I just don’t think we fit, okay? Not anymore.” 

 

“Are you… breaking up with me?”

 

Percy bit his lip. “Annabeth, for all you knew, I was dead. I wouldn’t blame you for moving on.” 

 

“ But I didn’t ” She almost shouted. He… He was hers. Ever since they met, he had been a constant in her life, he belonged to her . They were the power couple of the century, as some people had put it. They had just… fit. It was the perfect future, her as an architect, dating and even marrying Percy, a future she had grieved once and been elated to get back. 

 

“I see it now.” He whispered. “I’m sorry. For what is worth… I hope you find someone. If you survive this. I just can’t do this right now, not with so much growing up. With how I’ve changed.” 

 

Her heart beat faster in her chest, her tongue heavy as lead as she failed to give Percy an answer. But her silence was enough of a reply, was it not? 

 

To him, it seemed to be, as he stalked back into the shadows, the only evidence of his presence, a slowly cooling cup of coffee. 

 

Her anger slowly cooled down with it, turning into bitter jealousy and disappointment. She didn’t even know who she was jealous of. Was it the future she thought she had? that she was entitled for? 

 

She could not be sure. But Percy was right - there was a lot happening right now. This was all because of the stakes at play. Once they had fixed this, she could work on her own relationship. It would all be fine. She just had to survive this. 

Unbeknownst to her, a black raven had no plans to allow her to do so. Disguised by the black velvet night, it took off, a vial in its claws and a goal in its mind. 

 

And so, the last domino was put in place. When dawn broke, the first one would be pushed by sharp talons. But for now, the Night was young, and gentle, and Rome slept as wolves howled, trapped in an eternal hunt of silver arrows. 

Chapter 5: 5 - I know exactly what I need to do

Notes:

Sorry for taking so long to update! I was in an excavation and university is being merciless. So this chapter is shorter than usual, but the plot thickens anyway.

Leo stared at the map of the US extended on top of the large wooden table, thumbtacks on the locations of the Camps and Olympus, as Annabeth and Reyna trailed in, closing the doors behind them. 

 

They were all back in the Praetor’s room in the Senate, having woken up before most of New Rome, so the least people possible would see them all gather there. Because apparently Tartarus had turned Percy into a paranoid maniac. Not that Leo could really blame him for it, as he probably had to live in a state of near constant stress and attention. 

 

Both Reyna and Annabeth looked like a mess, bloodshot eyes and bags under their eyes. The praetor was nursing a cup of coffee and looked paler, while Annabeth seemed to be just pissed off, as if her latte had personally burned down her projects. Clearly, those two had decided to stop by a coffee place on their way, and needed the caffeine. 

 

By his side, Percy was staring intently at the map, while one Hazel Levesque looked at him with almost the same intensity, as if he was a puzzle she could not solve. 

 

“Right.” Said Jason, adjusting the collar of his turtleneck - identical to the one he had leant Percy, which would be hilarious on any different day. “So. We need a plan to get to Olympus. Percy, do you have any idea of details of what they’re planning?” 

 

Percy cleared his throat. His voice still sounded like shit, even though he looked better, fully alert and healthy now that some decent food and rest were actually a thing. (And Leo was very much avoiding thinking about what he had been eating down there, thank you very much. He knew how these stories went.) 

 

“Before that… Reyna. I know you wanted to be here. But I think that only us Seven should be here. Sorry, Nico.” 

 

“What? Why?” The son of Hades asked, looking almost irritated. 

 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. But it would be easy for one of the House to get information… And it might hurt. The less people know where we are, the harder it will be for them to find us as well.” 

 

“We won’t be able to provide support if you do that.” Noted Reyna. “You’ll be on your own.”

 

“As usual.” Replied Percy. “I know you s- know this makes sense.” 

 

It did. From a cold, logical standpoint, it did. Leo’s eyes met Jason’s, who also seemed to be confused by the way Percy was acting. Everyone else seemed to just allow him to be, nodding along, and Leo supposed it sounded like a trauma response, or some result from being stuck in Hell for so long. 

 

So he would cut the guy some slack. 

 

“... Fine.” Said Nico, turning around and marking out of the room, Reyna and her dogs behind him. 

 

Once the doors closed, Percy sighed. “They want to kill the gods. Which is not something easy to do - they can reform from basically anything. I mean, we all saw what happened with Kronos.” Besides Leo, Annabeth shook. He had been too detached from the immortal world to participate in the war, as had been Piper, Hazel and Frank… But they knew the stories. “But there’s a weapon that could do it.” 

 

“Which one?” Asked Annabeth, coldly. 

 

“It’s a blade called the Harpe. I overheard them talking about it one time, when I was stealing supplies. It’s the sword that Zeus used to kill Kronos, and the same one that Kronos used to kill Uranus. And then Athena gave it to the other Perseus to kill Medusa. They know where it is, but the place is protected, so we might be able to get to it first.” 

 

“Why would we want a weapon to kill gods? We’ve been managing fine so far.” Asked Frank. 

 

“It’s more so they don’t get it.” Annabeth was the one to follow Percy’s line of thinking. “So if we can destroy it, or just hide it better.” 

 

Leo nodded. “Right. So where is it?” 

 

All eyes turned to Percy. He shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

 

“The Winter Solstice is a week away. We don’t have the time to go hunting down a magic weapon- ” Said Jason. 

 

“We might not have to.” Interrupted Percy. “I don’t know where it is, but I can find out. We even have the map already.” As he spoke, he reached for one of the vials hanging from his belt, little ceramic tubes topped by leather corks.

 

When he opened one of them, Leo heard both Annabeth and Hazel gasp at the sight of milky-white water swirling inside, emanating a soft glow. 

 

“That’s water from the Lethe.” Said the daughter of Pluto.

 

“Yes. I… I picked up some tricks. The Lethe has the memories of everyone who lived, so it can also show where things are, if the person who hid it or someone who knows where it is has died. It’s a long shot, but it’s the best we got.” 

 

Leo looked at his waist - five vials. Five Rivers. Percy with normal water was terrifying, but this? This was beyond what he could imagine. 

 

With a wave of his hand, the white liquid flowed out of the vial, everyone taking three steps away as fast as they could. It seemed to be more water than it should fit in the container, but Leo was not about to question magic river rules. Percy dropped the empty vial by the table, and closed his eyes, white liquid flowing around his hands like snakes but never touching the skin. 

 

Slowly, tendrils reached for the map, spreading like roots, following the path of rivers and meanders, permeating the soil… And coalescing in a single spot. 

 

“Is that… Salt Lake City? As in, Utah?” Asked Leo, looking at where the white water had become a single gravity defying column. 

 

“Of course! There’s a museum of Hellenic culture there.” 

 

Percy called back the Lethe, allowing it to settle back into the container it was previously in and returning it to his waist. “Guess that’s where we are going then. It's not even that far off the way to Olympus.” 

 

“That’s so cool.” Said Piper, looking at the dry paper, not a single drop of the river of forgetfulness left behind. “So you can just find anything now?” 

 

“Not everything. And I need a map… I only did this a few times before. Don’t… Don’t ask. Please.” 

 

Ah. So bad memories associated. As cool as the trick was, Leo decided that yeah, that was fair. There was a limit to pushing people. He was cool with that. Suspicious, but cool. 

 

“All right. So, we can take Festus, and Arion, and Tempest-” 

 

“No.” Percy cut him off. “I mean. Yes for Arion and Tempest. But let’s not take the giant bronze dragon on a quest where no one should know where we are?” 

 

“We lose a lot of firepower!” Replied Leo. 

 

“Percy has a point.” Said Piper, the utter traitor. “Festus would be better protecting New Rome anyway.” 

 

Leo huffed, but ceded his point. “Fine. So, Arion can take Hazel, Tempest for Jason, and then what?”

 

“Percy can call Blackjack and some Pegasi.” Shrugged Piper. Percy’s face lit up at the mention of his mount. 

 

And so, it was settled. They would take the day to gather their things, and leave that night, when less eyes would be on them. 

 

“What can you tell us about the demigods, then?” Asked Jason. 

 

“They’re strong. Fast. Heal quick. All too much even for a demigod. And they all have different powers, and more training than us all, their blood turned into black ichor. One of them, Doe, is the best archer I’ve ever seen - Sorry Frank, you’re a close second. I don’t know much about Hare and Vulture, but they’re very, very fast. Spider has a lot of traps, and Dove rides a whole fucking drakon into battle.” 

 

“Excuse me?” Yelped Hazel. 

 

“I thought no one could tame a Drakon. You- Percy, we fought one .” 

 

“I know. And that’s not the worst of it.” How could that not be the worst of it? “There’s a triad on top. Hound, who obeys their leader. He’s… a really good fighter. Snake, I don’t know much about that one, they never show up when I’m there to see them. And their leader… the Night Raven.” 

 

Percy’s hand went to his chest, pressing against his heart with a weird expression on his face. Leo bet if he looked, there would be a scar right there - In a very, very dangerous place to get hit in. 

 

“She’s the daughter of Nyx Herself. Don’t fight her alone. Actually, don’t fight any of them alone - I almost died every time I had to go against them. But that one, especially. I… I don’t think all of us together could manage to beat her without help.” 

 

Grim silence fell over the room. Leo had seen Percy fight - it was terrifying, and made them all glad he was on their side. The guy could summon hurricanes, and had fought Kronos by himself, survived Tartarus for years! The mere idea that there were several people on equal level as him somewhere was… beyond comprehension. 

 

“We should try the Oracle again.” Jason broke the silence. “We don’t have an Augur… But maybe Rachel? She’s staying here, isn’t she?” 

 

Annabeth nodded. “I’ll go get her.” She looked uneasy to leave the room, almost sprinting away before they could even nod. 

 

As soon as the doors closed behind her, Piper turned to Percy. 

 

“What happened with you two?” She asked, eyes sharp.

 

“We broke up.” Percy replied, tone flat. 

 

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the silent room, Percy’s head turned to one side, cheek already turning red from where Piper had hit him. The daughter of Aphrodite herself shook her hand, looking mildly surprised at her skin. 

 

“Do you know how devastated she was when we thought you died?” She said, voice short of a yell. “She cried for weeks . And then never moved on. And then you act all happy to see her, and she is finally alive again, just for you to break her heart like that? What the fuck Percy? We get you acting weird and honestly kind of like a dick after all that, but Annabeth deserves better!” 

 

He finally had the decency to look ashamed at her. “I know. Trust me, I’m not what Annabeth needs anymore.” His voice was even raspier than before, sending a shiver down Leo’s spine. “She’s better without me. Just… Yeah.” 

 

Piper’s anger died down with each word he spoke. “You should still apologise.” 

 

“I will. When we’re not trying to save the world.” 

 

The daughter of Aphrodite nodded, watching as Percy rubbed the spot where she had hit him. “I’m not sorry.” 

 

“I had it coming.” And there was a glimpse of the Percy they knew, even if briefly. 

 

Annabeth walked back in a few minutes later, redhead in tow. Rachel all but threw herself at Percy, whacking him over the head. 

 

“Okay, can people stop hitting me?” 

 

“Who else hit you?” 

 

“... Nevermind. Hi Rachel. Been a while.” 

 

The girl nodded. “I heard you need a prophecy?”

 

Leo came behind her with a chair. “That would be useful, yes, so if you could please start glowing and speaking in tongues?” 

 

She sat, rolling her eyes. “Look. It hasn’t been working lately. I’m trying, but it is almost as if something is blocking my connection to the Oracle.” 

 

“That’s okay, we should at least try.” Said Frank. “So, what do you need? Incense? Cards? Entrails?” 

 

Rachel frowned at the last item. “Usually it just comes nat-” 

 

Leo assumed that what she meant to say was “ naturally”. Instead, her eyes became a solid emerald green, smoke pouring from her mouth. 

 

Rachel’s voice became multiplied, whispers coming from beyond their plane, as the already cold room became frigid, their breaths condensing in front of their faces as she recited. 

 

Trickster of the Earth wields the dishonest blade 

The twilight of the gods brings salvation in its wake 

A Raven’s death as the augur of a new age

By the river’s will, fulfilled is fate

 

Rachel’s head fell, Frank and Leo supporting her so she would not collapse to the floor, drained. Slowly, she blinked back into awareness, face pale, skin clammy and cold with shaking hands. 

 

“That… took way too much energy.” 

 

“I don’t like it.” Muttered Annabeth. “Dishonest blade? Trickster? Twilight of the gods? None of that sounds good.” 

 

“But it said a raven will die.” Replied Jason. “Isn’t that the leader of those guys? Maybe after she dies they all give up, and we win.” 

 

“That’s too much talk about new ages and fate.” Argued Percy. “I’ve met the Fates. They’re not exactly nice. But we all know there’s a spy in New Rome. Maybe that’s the trickster?” 

 

Piper stared into her dagger. Leo knew she wasn’t seeing anything on it - the surface had grown foggy, just like any other sources of prophecy. “Dishonest blade. Could that be the Herpe?”

“That would mean the traitor is with us.” Said Hazel, eyes sweeping over them all. 

 

“Or that we will lose the sword. Or it could be a completely different blade.” Retorted Frank. “I don’t think we know enough about the situation to interpret everything. We should tell the gods this. I mean, Apollo should know, as the god of prophecy and all. It’s… ambiguous.”

 

Rachel nodded alongside him. “This was different. I can’t explain it… but it almost feels more powerful than the Great Prophecies. It was almost as if it wasn’t the Phytia talking, it was Delos itself.” 

 

Leo stared at the white ceiling above. Usually, they all felt so hopeful at the new prophecies. They always pointed at some path to take, or some solution to the problem.

 

And yet, this time… This time it just felt like the prophecy was that white marble above him, ready to crush them all.

Notes:

University is killing me. If you liked this chapter, could you please tell me which parts were best? what do we think of the prophecy?

Chapter 6: 6 - Even the stars, they burn

Notes:

This came out faster than i thought! special thanks to my beautiful partner who encouraged me to write, and @ash_writes_stuff, for your lovely comment who made me decide to finish this and get this out today!

Annabeth finished folding the last of her orange shirts, using it to wrap around some vials of Nectar and Ambrosia before putting the bundle in a big ziplock bag. Years of questing had taught her to keep the godly food and at least one change of clothes dry and clean. Plus, those bags really could come in handy when you needed to transport something. 

 

That went roughly on top of her bag - access to the magic healing substances should be easy, after all. Alongside it, a map of the US, a compass, some mortal money, and she was set. 

 

Of course, that was not all she had in her bag - no, she had also packed supplies after lunch, food and water and some normal medicine items. A book on Greco-Roman ancient gods, her knife (strapped to her hip), some more clothes, an extra knife hidden in her boot. A swiss knife set. Her invisibility cap. An emergency flare and fire kit from the camping shop near her dad’s place in San Francisco. Some other random knick knacks that could come in handy, and she was all set. 

 

Not for the first time, she caught herself wishing she still had Daedalus’ laptop, but that had fallen into Tartarus alongside… well. Alongside Percy. 

 

And now, she waited. 

 

This was the worst part of leaving for a quest. The waiting, the anticipation before going on the road. 

 

To distract herself, she pulled out some books on ancient myths, trying to find any and all mentions of Nyx in her personal library. They were little, too little for her comfort. Some mentions of her being the original holder of the Delphi Oracle, and more information that just corroborated what Percy had already told them. 

 

The lack of information spoke more than a full tome on her. Conflicts were rare, but she was powerful. Powerful enough to be left alone. 

 

She sighed and put it down, only to hear a knock at her door. On the other side, stood Nico, unarmed, nervously spinning his skull ring on his finger. 

 

“Hey. Can we talk?” 

 

“... Sure.” She replied, Percy’s words still echoing in her head. ‘ I don’t think we should trust Nico’  

 

But could she trust Percy ?

 

No.That line of thought was insane. It was Percy . He had fallen into Hell for her, and climbed back up. He had almost died for his friends and family so many times. His fatal flaw was literally loyalty! If there was anyone she could trust to not betray them, it was him. 

 

Even if he had broken up with her. But he had been loyal even before they were together, that was not a condition for his loyalty. 

 

“Ready to leave?” Nico asked, eyeing her backpack and trekking shoes by the door, the books open and scattered around. 

 

“You know I can’t tell you details.” She replied. 

 

“Right. Because Percy is paranoid.” He said his name with some bitterness. Annabeth knew they had history - out of everyone else, she sure did. But she expected him to be happier that Percy came back. “You get that we won’t be able to help at all? You’ll go out, knowing anyone could hurt you…” 

 

“What’s this all about, Nico?” She interrupted. 

 

“I just wish you’d tell me what’s happening. Reyna agrees that you’ve been acting weird around us… around me, ever since he… Oh. I see.” 

 

His face contorted into something almost shameful and full of betrayal. “Percy told you to not trust me, didn’t he?” 

 

Annabeth’s lack of an answer was enough to confirm it. But she didn’t expect Nico to see through her like that. 

 

“And you didn’t think that was suspicious at all?” He asked. “He comes back, with all the information we need, after surviving somewhere even the gods avoid, and you all just go along with it? And then he tells you I’m not reliable, when I’ve proved more than once that I only want what’s best for both camps? I’m on your side- Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.” 

 

And that? That ticked Annabeth off. “Really? Because I remember you lying, and vanishing, and keeping the camps a secret, and so many other lies you told us. And, fuck Nico, we all know you had a crush on him. Are you sure you’re not just jealous?” 

 

She immediately regretted saying that, with the way he flinched back. Annabeth knew he sometimes faced issues with his own sexuality, and Percy being back was probably not helping matters. 

 

“Maybe you should look in a mirror before speaking.” He said, darkly, before melting into shadows and vanishing from her room. 

 

She sat on her couch, looking at the spot he was previously in. Was he right? Could this all be a complex manipulation? 

 

No. Percy wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t lie to people, and wasn’t good at tricking them either. Especially not her. She knew him better than anyone. This was most likely Nico growing desperate, if he really was the spy. An attempt to get information on the quest, or to make them not trust each other. 

 

Which only solidified her certainty that Percy was right. She should not trust him. She was tempted to warn Reyna as well, but the Praetor was smart, and cunning. Out of everyone, she would see through him. And, in the chance Annabeth was wrong… it was best to not sew even more doubt. 

 

Which was why she mentioned nothing to her quest companions when they met that night, after dinner, while the entire Camp was busy with the night training. 

 

They all had similar gear - backpacks, good shoes for snow and water, long sleeved shirts and impermeable jackets for the cold, rain and snow of December. Percy’s stuff looked brand new, and Annabeth recalled something about Reyna giving him some money and supplies to gear up in New Rome. 

 

A small, beaten up and tattered orange rag hung from his belt. What was left from his camp shirt, she figured. It made her heart ache, picturing him holding on to that piece of cloth through all these years. 

 

“Okay, we’re all here.” Said Jason when she arrived. “I figured we should walk out of camp and call the horses outside.” 

 

She nodded - it was as good of a plan as anything else. 

 

So, together, they walked out the long maintenance tunnel. As the door swing shut behind them, Annabeth couldn’t help but feel like there was something they were all forgetting. 

---

It felt weird to be in the mortal world after so many years. The noise of cars, the smell of pollution and the feeling of cold wind on his skin… Ever since his fall, it seemed as if those senses had all grown more sensitive, when compared to his past. Percy couldn’t help but flinch at the honk of a large truck passing by, a sound so alien to him when compared to the howls of monsters and the shriek of wind on the delicate marble of the House. 

 

He adjusted the straps of the backpack on his shoulders. The jeans and shirts felt uncomfortable after years wearing soft cotton and silk tunics and trousers. (And the eventual leather, be it in the form of armour or not-so-modest outfits). The softest piece of cloth on him was the random orange rag - he was almost sure it was straight up just a random piece of fabric, and not part of his original clothes when he fell. Nat had tied it to a hellhound and let it run loose, which managed to simulate the wear and tear of years in hell pretty easily in just a week. But it helped sell the character. 

 

After trekking into the woods for a few minutes, the New Rome valley vanished from sight, making it safe to get their rides for the remainder of the quest. 

 

Jason summoned Tempest, and Hazel whistled, Arion materialising by her side, potty mouth and all. (Percy ignored how he cursed at him. It’s not like anyone else could understand it anyway.) He whistled, and soon enough, a black shape landed, followed by three others, two a greyish white and a brown one. 

 

The first one immediately ran up to Percy, hitting him square in the chest in a friendly headbutt. ‘ Boss!! Boss!! I heard you were back!! And then you called for me and I was with friends and they decided to come and do you have donuts, boss? Wait, why do you smell like a dead horse?” 

 

“Blackjack! Buddy!” Percy smiled genuinely at his old friend. “I missed you too. Didn’t bring donuts, sorry. And it’s been a weird few years. I’m not… cheating on you with a different horse.” 

 

Blackjack huffed, a clear look of I know you’re lying but I won’t ask now because I’m cool like that on his face. ‘ What do you need, Boss?” 

 

“We’re on a quest. A secret quest. Would you and your friends mind giving us a ride to Olympus? We need to make a stop on the way, so you can rest. I’ll give you some prime donuts and sugar cubes for it.” 

 

Blackjack pretended to think things over for a second, walking around him and huffing near the other two horses. ‘ Well. We have to show these two who the true stallions are. I’m in. Boys?” 

 

The other three horses agreed, each approaching a lone demigod. 

 

“So, these are Guido and Porkpie and…” The brown pegasus neighed. “Clove. They’re going to help us out.” 

 

Piper giggled, petting Clove’s mane. Annabeth was already familiar with the other two, introducing them to Leo. In no time at all, they were mounted and ready to go, Frank shapeshifted into an eagle to accompany them. Although, if his wings grew tired, the pegasi made sure to tell him they didn’t mind carrying an extra person, or he could become a tiny animal and ride on someone’s pocket. 

 

He didn’t need it, but the thought was sweet anyway. 

 

Percy, on his dark mount, kept relatively close to the ground. The night was full of dark, low clouds that disguised Blackjack well enough, and that way he could keep an eye on Hazel. Everyone else rode above the cloud cover, thankfully dressed for the frigid temperatures and water condensation. 

 

Those didn’t bother Percy much. He could just will himself to be dry, but the blessing of the five rivers kept him pretty comfortable in most situations. 

 

It was a weird magic. Nat had explained it to him, how, when he fell, all five rivers had accepted him as one of their own, as a child of the underworld. He was bound to them even before he accepted her deal. And how each of them had blessed him in their own way, much like they had done for all of the Team. 

 

The Lethe had “kept his memories safe”. He interpreted it as protecting his memory from being meddled with, like a certain goddess had. The Phlegethon had granted him resistance and healing, keeping him safe from poison, while the Cocytus had done a similar thing as the Lethe, but for his mind - keeping it free from magical external influences and illusions, yes, but also honing his will to fight. Alongside it, the Acheron had granted him an extremely high resistance to pain, not to a degree where he would not feel it, but enough he could just… turn it off. 

 

And lastly, Styx. He had met the goddess herself, and the river was an old friend. She had told him he was beyond promises in her name, and blessed him with invulnerability once more. Not in the way she had done to Achilles, or even Percy and Luke themselves in the past. No, this was not a curse, but just another ability of their bodies, tied deeply to their black ichor. He had to wish for it, to desire to not be hurt, but it no longer caused that bone deep exhaustion of the past time. 

 

All of this to say, well. The cold never bothered him anyway. He could feel the air and the clouds flowing around him, but it was muted, and not uncomfortable. 

 

Hours passed, and, as dawn was starting to break in the far off horizon, they landed in Liberty Park, Salt Lake City. Immediately, Tempest dissolved into ozone, but Jason assured them he would be back when they were ready to leave. All of the other magical horses spread out, resting their wings and legs after the long trip. 

 

“All right. So, we are relatively close to the museum. Let’s head there and-” Started Frank, reading from a map. 

 

“I don’t think it should be all of us.” Interrupted Percy. “The more of us go, the higher the chance of something going wrong. Besides… If something does happen, I would feel better if we have people on the outside.”

 

“Who do you suggest then?” Asked Piper, tone pointed. 

 

“Well. I’ll go, I know how the sword should look like. Leo and Annabeth as well. I wouldn’t trust anyone else above them among us all to be able to pull off this little heist.” 

 

Annabeth smiled, prideful. “You know it, Seaweed Brain.” 

 

“Oh hell yeah!” Cheered Leo “I always wanted to do a heist.” 

 

Jason’s brow furrowed, like he wanted to argue. But it was a pretty solid team. And missions were always done in groups of three, anyway. 

 

So, off they went, walking through the streets of Salt Lake City, still quiet in the early hours of the morning. On the way, they stopped for some food, in a barely-open cafe, munching on pastries and coffee until they stopped by a church, with a small, one story building by it. 

 

They were both made of red bricks and decorated in white. A sign said it was the “Hellenic Cultural Museum”, with a smaller one announcing a temporary exhibition of Ancient Artefacts of Greek Culture. Right by it, stood a Greek orthodox church, casting a shadow on the three demigods. 

 

“This place is… smaller than I thought.” Mentioned Leo. 

 

“Easier for us.” Replied Annabeth. 

 

The museum was still closed, a sign announcing it would open at nine. It was currently close to six in the morning, giving them plenty of time to get the sword out. 

 

So, they jumped the small wall near the street, and Leo ran his hands on the main doors. “There’s an alarm. We could try the windows? They’re a bit high but…” 

 

Heading to the nearest one, Percy lifted him on his shoulders. “Yeah, this will do.” In less than a minute, the window was open, and Leo was slipping inside. 

 

He hoisted Annabeth up, trying to not think of the last time they had touched, been so close in a very similar position, hanging from the edge of the rift to Tartarus. By the way she shuddered, he assumed she was thinking the same. 

 

Perched on the window, she turned to him, extending a hand. But Percy was already backing up and running towards the wall, using the impulse to grab onto the ledge and hoist himself up. Annabeth stared at him intensely as he dropped silently on the other side - although not as quietly as he should have. Nat would have his head if she saw him make that much noise. 

 

Annabeth jumped besides him, definitely making more noise than he had. 

 

They crept in, slipping past the entrance, and through collections of things from traditional Greek heritages, but none as old as what they were looking for. Thankfully, the only real security was around the main entrance, and probably the displays. 

 

Percy knew there was a sword here somewhere - one old enough to have the sickle-like shape they needed. Controlling the water of the Lethe so it pointed them to this museum was easy enough, and a genius move on Nico’s part to come up with that supposed magic explanation. 

 

Finally, they spotted a sign pointing to the temporary exhibition of artefacts straight from Athens. It wasn’t much - a few different kinds of pottery, pieces of armour and statues, and finally, the weapons, at the very end. He could feel some magic radiating from it - those were real, and old. Very old. 

 

“The one in the bottom.” He pointed. They were organised from oldest form to newest. 

 

“How do you know?” Asked Annabeth. 

 

“They said it was curved. All others are too straight.” he replied, kneeling by the display. “Leo, can you unlock this?” 

 

Leo hummed. “It may be easier if we turn off the power. This place might have a generator but I doubt it’s hooked to temporary display cases.” 

 

Percy nodded. “Annabeth? Can you find the electric switches and turn them off? I’d go, but…” he trailed off. Best to let her come up with the best explanation. She went away without complaints. 

 

Nico had talked to her earlier, Percy knew. Casting suspicion on him, which actually should make him look more trustworthy. And, if not, then she would still rely on Nico. It was a win-win scenario for all of them… except the Olympians. 

 

Leo was busy fiddling with the display, occasionally looking up at Percy with a weird expression on his face. “You okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” the younger man replied. “I’m just… How can you be so chill, dude? You just came back from superhell.” 

 

“Ah.” Percy started. In truth, he hadn’t spent all that long in Tartarus proper. “I guess it just… hasn’t caught up with me.” It was a weak lie, but Leo seemed to buy it easily enough. Truth be told, the situation was much less stressful when you had it all planned out like this, when you were the one holding all the cards. 

 

He supposed Leo would see him as the villain of this story. But he would be damned if it wasn’t much easier. 

 

There was a loud click coming from the displays, followed by a high beep. Annabeth had probably found the switches. Leo shimmed a piece of metal into the lock and slid it away, as Percy reached in and took the sword out of the hooks holding it up.

 

It was a mix of bronze and flint, the stone embedded in the hilt. And it was also in a really bad shape, with almost no hilt to speak of and a thin, delicate blade from years of corrosion. It didn’t look like it could kill a god, but looks could be deceiving. Percy knew that all too well. 

 

Then, a loud crash came from the front of the museum, like glass shattering and hitting the wall. Annabeth showed up running, panting. 

 

“They found us. He- Fire-” 

 

She didn’t get to finish her sentence, for a wall of fire split them up - the heat causing Leo to grab Percy and pull them back as Annabeth rolled away. Percy didn’t have to think twice - he grabbed Leo’s hands and ran away. 

 

They dodged between displays, hearing as their pursuer came behind them. One of his hands busy with the Harpe, Percy summoned the dark chains he had learned how to use, tipped with a deadly, sharp triangular blade. 

 

Nat had handed them to him after he joined them - from the Doors of Death, she had said, and previously being used to hold Princess Andromeda, cut down and cast to the sea by his own namesake and retrieved by Gaea to chain down the Doors. 

 

As soon as their pursuer turned the corner where they hid, he threw it forward, hooking it around his knee for impulse. It hit the man’s helmet dead center, and they used the distraction to slip past him and run to the church. 

 

‘ Ooops. Sorry, Beckendorf. I have to make this convincing.’ He projected his thoughts as they ran. 

 

‘ Asshole.’ Beckendorf replied, shooting a ball of Greek Fire at them, almost hitting Percy and definitely singeing his hair. ‘ Let me make this convincing then.’

 

They were now in the open field between the museum and the church, Annabeth visible behind Beckendorf. The fire was growing rapidly, and he could hear fire alarms going off. 

 

“RUN!” He yelled at her. “Warn everyone else! It’s Spider!” But she was frozen in place, watching as Beckendorf pulled a large halberd from his back, the tip lighting with Greek Fire. “Get the others!” 

 

Having an order seemed to break her from her shock, as she turned around and ran off, blonde hair covered in soot and ash. 

 

“Dude. Not that saving her is not noble and all…” Started Leo. “But. We’re gonna die.” 

 

Percy handed him the Harpe, drawing his drakon bone sword. “Just don’t let the normal fire spread.” The magic fire his teammate was casting was spreading into news flames, making a plume of smoke rise and cover the sky. 

 

And then, the fight was on. 

Of course, they didn’t really want to kill each other. And both of them were invulnerable anyway. But Percy swung his sword and chain around like a maniac, shooting it to wrap around his halberd while Beckendorf compensated with more and more fire, Leo desperately trying to douse the flames. 

 

He pulled on the chain, driving Beckendorf straight to the hilt of his sword. The Spider replied with a knee to his stomach, making him double over from the impact and lack of air. Percy dropped, swinging his leg out so he would trip and fall. 

 

Beckendorf retreated, but untangled the chain from his polearm. He advanced, and Percy dodged, his drakon sword cutting through the wooden pole of the weapon. 

 

‘ Seriously, dude?’ Beckendorf growled in his mind. ‘ The sword. Nat is waiting’

 

‘ I’ll stab you.’ Percy replied, lunging, only to have Beckendorf catch it with the broken tip of his weapon and send it flying. 

 

“Leo!” Percy screamed, now in the defensive with only his chain versus Beckendorf and an improvised axe. “The Harpe!” 

 

Leo looked at him, and nodded, tossing him the sword. The hilt was frail in his hand, so Percy grabbed it near the blade… 

 

And drove it straight into Beckendorf’s stomach, through a crack in the armour left unprotected. It splintered, leaving Percy with the hilt and about ten centimeters of a broken blade. The man howled in pain, only half genuine, and pointed a finger at Percy.

 

“This is not over, Perseus Jackson!” 

 

With a wave of his hand, a funnel of fire sprung forth, Percy shielding his face from the heat. Once it subsided, only more normal, nonmagic flames marked a circle in the grass. 

 

Leo rushed towards him. “Dude! What the FUCK?!” 

 

Percy got to his feet. “We need to get out of here. Go back to the park.” Then, he noticed the loud ringing, and a fire truck approaching down the street, followed by police cars. “Fuck. Not the cops. Okay, hide!” 

 

He once again forced Leo to follow him, running to the back of the church and getting his sword back on the way. The entire block was full of cops, already blocking the streets and evacuating nearby civilians from the fire. And they would not take kindly to two teenage boys at the scene of the crime at seven in the morning.

 

All right, time to use the ultimate cop-dodging move. 

 

Percy heard as a group approached as they were behind the church. So he pushed Leo against the wall, sheathing his sword and making it vanish on his back. His hands went for Leo’s coat, pushing it halfway off his shoulders as he pressed his lips against his, supporting the smaller man’s weight against the wall. 

 

Leo let out a surprised, muffled “ oophf?” before opening his lips. Percy bit slightly on them, as Leo hooked a leg against his back and arms over his neck, finally getting on with the plan. With his hands free,  he hooked them against Leo’s toolbelt, shoving the Harpe’s hilt on one of the pockets… 

 

And slipping out a smooth, round sphere into his own coat. He ran his hands over Leo’s hair, making them even more dishevelled but also wiping away the ash. Thankfully, their clothes were already dark or brown, hiding the signs of the fight. 

 

“Hey! You kids!” A cop yelled, and Percy pulled away, acting startled. “Didn’t you hear the sirens? This is a church for Christ’s sake! Get the fuck out of here!” 

 

Leo seemed genuinely out of it, face completely flushed and a far-off look in his eyes. So, Percy did the talking, already-rough voice from the air of Tartarus sounding even worse with the ash, the exertion of the fight, and the whole "not breathing while kissing Leo” thing. “Sorry, officer! We didn’t hear it!” 

 

He guided Leo away, circling the church and slipping through the cops. In no time at all, they were back at the park, a worried group of demigods visibly relaxing when they poked out of the bushes.

 

“Percy! Leo! Thank the gods!” Piper threw herself at them. “Annabeth showed up, and we started to go there but then there were cops and fire and-”

 

“Hey. hey. We’re fine.” Replied Percy. 

 

“What happened?” Asked Frank, looking at them both. 

 

“Spider showed up.” Percy started. “He wanted the Harpe, and was tossing fire around. I was going to keep him busy while Annabeth got help, but then I managed to stab him-” 

 

“It was so sick ” Said Leo, for the first time since the church. 

 

“-And he ran away. But then there were cops and we had to get out of there without them asking questions. So, well. We had to do a fake-out make-out behind the church.” 

 

Leo visibly startled. “So that’s what you- Oh man, I can’t believe we got to use the ultimate power move. I did a fake-out make-out. With Percy Jackson. ” 

 

Percy snorted at the mention of his name, ignoring how Annabeth was looking at him. He guessed she was probably jealous, even if they had already broken up, and also it literally didn’t mean anything, desperate times called for desperate measures. 

 

“Where’s the sword, then?” Asked Jason, scrutinizing them. 

 

Leo looked at Percy, eyes wide. “I put it in your belt. Second one on the left on your back.” How had he not noticed that? 

 

Leo dug around, until pulling out the thin hilt and splintered blade. 

 

“It broke when I stabbed Spider.” Percy explained. “At least they don’t have all of it, even if we don’t either.” 

 

‘Well. We do have all of it.’ He thought ‘ They just don’t know that yet.’

 

But Annabeth nodded along, and so did Hazel and Frank, so he assumed enough people were convinced. “Let’s get out of here?” Asked Jason, summoning Tempest once again. 

 

And so, once more, they were up in the air. 

---

They did not go far, landing at Mustang Ridge Campground. It was empty at this time of the year, so they managed to get some tents up without anyone noticing, near the amphitheater and by the water, in a small “peninsula” that granted them a better strategic view.

 

The group had been up for the entire night and a good part of the morning. So it was understandable that they all immediately decided to go to sleep, with Blackjack and Arion guaranteeing them nothing would pass past their horse senses. Or at least that was what Percy translated for them. 

 

Even then, Jason did not get much sleep that day. After his body deemed he had enough sleep, he woke up by Piper’s side, who was snoring softly. Deciding he would not be able to fall back asleep, he arranged the covers around her a little better and creeped out near the river. 

 

Weirdly enough, he was not the only one up. In the water, with water up to his calves, was Percy. He was walking along the water, not aimlessly like someone who couldn’t sleep, but with a goal in mind. Making a split second decision, Jason followed, allowing the wind to lift him up and follow silently from the trees. 

 

The son of Poseidon walked, until their camp was well out of view. There, he veered into the woods again, footsteps quieter than even the best at stealth in Camp Jupiter. 

 

He didn’t go far - the water was still visible from the small clearing, where a man waited. It didn’t take much for Jason to realise this was the so-called Spider. Leo had given them a long, detailed explanation of the gloves with greek fire the man wore, his height, the greek accents on his black armour and how cool it looked, even if he was trying to kill them. 

 

Come to think of it, it was a similar style to the metal vambraces Percy was wearing when he first appeared from Tartarus. And they were not acting like mortal enemies either - Percy walked up to the man, extending an arm, only for Spider to pull him into… a hug? 

 

In his shock, Jason let the winds drop him, causing a soft crunch as his feet hit the dry leaves. He hoped they would not notice, but alas, he could never be this lucky. 

 

Both of them immediately turned towards Jason, and he felt it, the weight of Percy’s eyes on him. Lupa had taught all of them how to look and hunt like a wolf, but this… this was something else. 

 

He felt like prey. Like a gazelle being stared down by a lioness, or a hare, immobile in front of a fox. When he finally tried to move, he found that his body would not obey - as if his own bones had frozen in place.

 

“Ah. There you are. Jason Grace, the so-holy son of Jupiter.” Percy drawled, and gone was the cheerful, sassy, light tones of his voice. No, it was raspy, deep and full of poison. “I hoped we would not have to have this conversation so soon.” 

 

Jason looked over the other demigod. He was wearing only a shirt and trousers, seemingly unbothered by the snow that started to fall around them. And on his arm… 

 

He had only worn long sleeved shirts so far. But now, he could see a burn, where the SPQR tattoo should be. But it was impossible - it was a magical marking. It could not be wiped off like that by a monster or a wound, only a power even… even greater than Jupiter himself. 

 

As he looked, it shimmered away, being replaced by a dark chariot in unmarked skin. Percy’s own eyes grew even deeper, a blue not unlike what he thought the bottom of the ocean would be. Around his neck, a black band of ink appeared, as well as more thin black lines along his skin. 

 

“What… Percy, why?” He asked, looking at the man who had betrayed them in the face. He could speak, but his body still refused to move. 

 

Percy smiled, full of contempt and snark, an expression he didn’t think he would ever see on his face…

 

No. That was not quite right. He had seen him smile like that before, but always at his enemies. 

 

“The gods have long since betrayed us, Jason Grace.” He replied. “They use us and then toss us aside. Or do you think Jupiter really cares about you, Jason, and not the Praetor you pretend to be? Would he still give a fuck about you, if you decided to go against him?” 

 

Jason refused to reply. Of course he would! Even if Jupiter had given him away to the wolves, and separated him from his sister. 

 

“Will you work with us, or do I have to kill you?” He was very blunt. Pider only watched from the sidelines, fiddling with a round, bronze item. 

 

One of Leo’s spheres. That he kept in his back pockets. The same where Percy had hidden the sword. 

 

“I will not betray Rome.” Replied Jason. 

 

“Not even as your very blood betrays you?” Percy asked. With a wave of his hand, Jason fell to his knees, feeling his body move against his own will. “This is for the good of Rome, Jason. You know things can’t keep going as they are.” 

 

“ I will not betray them! ” Jason replied, his breathing growing ragged and head going light as his blood slowed down, stopped circling. 

 

Percy kneeled by him, the hilt of the Harpe on his hands. “I imagined you’d say that. You can’t escape duty and being proper and perfect, no matter how much you try. If it helps, I’m truly sorry to do this.” 

 

And then, the sharp edge of where the sword had broken was dragged across his throat. 

 

Jason didn’t die immediately. His body slumped, falling onto the snow, but he could feel Percy keeping his blood circling, his hands turning him up so he could see the sky, the heavy clouds and snow falling on his eyes… 

 

And dark eyes meeting his electric ones. A vial made of ceramics, with a milky white liquid inside. “I’m sorry, Jason. But you don’t get to try for the Isles of the Blessed. I can’t have you blabbering about us for my dear uncle now.” 

 

The last thing Jason saw was a single drop of liquid pearls falling towards his face, as the blood seeping from his neck finally burst forth, staining the snow around him white. His life, forfeit by the one who managed to trick them all.

 

And then, Jason Grace was no more, washed away by the River of Forgetfulness.

Chapter 7: 7 - And I believed when you told that lie

Notes:

I'm sorry

For a second, Percy remained kneeling there, watching the blood pour from Jason’s neck, spraying him across the face and all over the blue shirt on his torso, soaking through his pants. 

 

The snow was falling heavily now, and a flake fell in Jason’s blue iris, melting in the leftover body heat and dripping down his face like a tear. 

 

He moved. Blood lifted from Jason’s body splashing him across his side as he cut through his shirt with a pocket knife before scrubbing dirt over his jeans and palms. The snow would hide the lack of signs of struggle, but he still took the care to fling more of Jason’s blood around… As well as some of his own black ichor in the middle of the clearing. The wound closed almost immediately, surrounded by the cold snow that liquified against his body. 

 

All through it, Beckendorf watched, an amused expression on his face. 

 

“Won’t you help me?” Percy asked 

 

“Nah.” He replied, leaning against a tree and messing with the sphere in his hands. “I’ll give this back to you soon. After I copy the mechanism and alter it to trap energy. Should be two days or so.” 

 

That was fine - they still had five more days before the Solstice. More than enough for this group of demigods to reach Olympus, but Percy and his allies would make sure they were delayed enough. 

 

As a final detail, he grabbed the orange rag from his pocket. It was not like Jason would have to worry about infections, and honestly it was a good excuse to get rid of it - it stunk of hellhounds and sulphur. So he pressed it against Jason’s neck, willing more blood to soak it, tying it behind his neck so it would act as a “makeshift bandage”. 

 

Rolling Jason into a fireman’s carry onto his back, he raised an eyebrow at Beckendorf. “Don’t you have places to be?” 

 

“You stabbed me. Watching you struggle heals my soul.” 

 

“Asshole. It was just a lung.” 

 

“I preferred you when you were just a cute little kid, actually.” He replied, with no real heat behind his words.  

 

Beckendorf laughed, before walking off into the woods, melting into the shadows. 

 

Percy huffed, and began the trek back to their camp.

---

Piper woke up to cold blankets. That wasn’t weird in itself, Jason often got up in the middle of the night and decided to take a walk. So, she was tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep. 

 

But they were on a mission, so she got up, slipping her dagger back into her belt. She had fallen asleep still in her boots - they probably all did, high strung and tense as they were. Thankfully, their little bedroll was short enough she could sleep with her feet off it. Jason would kill her if she trailed mud on their tent. 

 

The tents themselves were a gift from Artemis after they had helped her in a hunt, about a year ago. Collapsible, and enchanted to be warm, with the bedrolls and blankets they could fold to be about the size of a couple shirts. 

 

They had three of them - One for Jason and Piper, one for Hazel and Frank, and one for Annabeth and Leo. Piper had no idea what Percy had done to sleep - she was too tired to pay attention. But from now on, they probably would have at least one person on guard, so she supposed the rotation was not much of a concern. 

 

She stretched her legs, sitting by the rocks around the campfire Leo had going. He had hung a metal sheet over it, and slabs of tofu were grilling happily alongside some vegetables. 

 

They sat in silence for a moment, until Leo broke it with a snort. 

 

“What?” Piper asked 

 

“I just. Percy is hot.” 

 

Piper raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. That’s a well-established fact.” 

 

“And he kissed me.” Leo continued. “And I liked it. And I guess I’ve always been acting weird around him. Now we know why I guess.” 

 

Piper snickered. “Ah yes. The bisexual awakening. Is that you trying to come out?” 

 

Leo gasped, faking a deep, deep offense. “Pipes! How dare you have ever assumed I’m straight?” 

 

Piper conceded his point with a nod. A crunch of steps behind them indicated someone approaching, and soon Hazel slipped on the log by their side. “Why does Leo look like you insulted his cooking?” 

 

“He realised Percy is hot.” 

 

Hazel nodded. “Ah yes. That’s inevitable, having a crush on him. Did I ever tell you guys I thought he was a god when we first met?” 

 

Piper laughed. She had heard the story of how they met, but never from Hazel’s perspective. “That tracks. I thought he was a myth for the beginning of my time in Camp. I think it only clicked that he wasn’t when we actually met.” 

 

But that line of thinking only made Piper worry for a different friend. “I’m concerned about Annabeth. She’s been weird.” 

 

Hazel nodded. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through. And Percy has been weird too.” 

 

Piper chewed on her lip. She wanted to help them out - those two were the power couple of the century. The entire Aphrodite Cabin fawned over their story, telling it over and over again to newcomers. Almost as much as they talked about Silena Beauregard’s death - noble sacrifices in the name of love. She had even caught a few of them hoping their deaths could be like that, or their partner’s. 

 

It made no sense to Piper - why wouldn’t you wish to grow old with the person you love, like she wanted for her and Jason? She had envisioned it so many times: retiring from being a cabin leader, moving somewhere with waves and a nice college, and in the end, meeting again in Elysium. 

 

But most demigods died young, and cruelly. It could be a way to cope, maybe. All she knew is that it was not a fate she desired for her own relationship. Jason and Piper… they were strong enough to survive. She was sure of it. 

 

The subject dropped as Annabeth’s tent rustled, and soon the blonde crawled out, hair sticking up in weird directions from the fire and running away. They needed to find a shower soon - none of them wanted to try and bathe in the ice cold river. 

 

Leo pulled paper plates from his belt, dragging some slices of tofu and vegetables to each plate with a screwdriver before eating with his fingers. Piper chose to just pull out her folding camping cutlery set, thanks. After a few minutes, Frank joined them, some fishes speared in his arrows, which he also left to grill on the fire. 

 

After they finished, they tossed their paper plates in the fire (except for two covered ones, with portions for Percy and Jason.) Looking at them, she asked what they were all thinking. 

 

“Where are those two?” 

 

“... Well. Percy could be talking to fish? Underwater? Or taking a nap there? He did that a lot in the Argo.” Leo tried. 

 

But their absence was suspicious. Right as Piper was about to suggest they went looking for them, they heard it. 

 

Crunching snow. The rustle of leaves. Almost unanimously, they turned to the patch of the woods where the sound came from. 

 

Piper wished she hadn’t. 

 

She bolted forwards, slipping an arm under Jason’s limp one, noticing how it seemed heavier than it should be. Harder to move. Together, Percy and her dragged him near the fire as Leo extended a blanket by it. 

 

“Jason! JASON!” Piper screamed, looking at the blood… oh gods. It was so much blood. Her hands went for his pulse in the neck- But there was a rag there. An orange rag, completely soaked in blood, half frozen. 

 

His body was too cold. 

 

She pulled the rag off, blood rushing in her ears as someone screamed. But it didn’t matter, she just had to check. Just had to feel his pulse. His chest wasn’t moving. 

 

His chest wasn’t moving. 

 

There was nothing under her fingers. Nothing, save for a deep cut - she could see his hyoid, crooked. Muscle. His trachea. Cartilage. And there was no blood coming out of it. 

 

“No, no- AMBROSIA. NECTAR.” SHe screamed, pleading, looking at the faces of his friends. “Please?” 

 

Her hands flew to his chest, pressuring down, in a rhythm she had learned long ago. Deeper. Stronger. His chest was stiff. 

 

Something cracked. 

 

And then there were hands on her shoulders, pulling her away. “JASON!” 

 

“Piper… It’s no use.” A low, raspy voice spoke behind her as she thrashed and hit whoever was holding her. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

 

The tears flowing down her face mixed with spit and snot. 

 

There was no blood flowing from the cut. 

 

His chest was not moving. 

 

His eyes were still half open, one wider than the other, mouth half slack. His fingers were curled. 

 

His chest was weird. It was also not moving. 

 

He was dead. 

 

Piper stopped fighting. Those arms that were holding her back moved to hold her in, embracing her as she turned and sobbed, noticing how the chest of the person was damp. Sticky. 

 

Percy ran his fingers through her hair as she held his arms, nails digging deep into his skin. and she was afraid she would hurt him. And yet, he didn’t complain. Just let her sob. 

 

And she did. Until she couldn’t do it anymore, every movement of her chest hurting, every breath feeling like drowning. So, she pushed away from him, kneeling by Jason… Jason’s body. 

 

Someone had closed his eyes, and she already missed that electric blue. “I need… a rag. A shirt. Anything.” 

 

Leo silently handed her one from his belt. 

 

“Water. I want… I need to get this blood off.” 

 

Wordlessly, Percy knelt by her side. The snow, which was falling fast now, condensed into a small bubble of water, steadily growing. She could see some steam coming off of it as well. 

 

She dipped the rag on it, before swiping it over Jason’s face, his neck. Small tendrils of water reached for his clothing, passing through and leaving it clean and dry, the liquid coming off red, brown, and pink. Perdy did the same for his hair, and she could not be more grateful. 

 

As awareness returned to her body, she noticed that her face was covered by something dry, which flaked off. Blood, from Percy’s shirt. Her friends had left, leaving the two bloodsoaked demigods to clean it off their dead friend, painting the snow around them the colours of sunset. 

 

Once he was clean, she turned around. Walked into her tent, and came back with the blanket they had shared that very morning, draping it over his body. 

 

A hand rested on her shoulder. Leo, with tear tracks over his face. Behind him, their logs for the campfire had been rearranged in layers, as well as some fresh ones and kindling. Wordlessly, Frank approached, and alongside Percy hauled Jason’s body over the makeshift pyre. 

 

Annabeth had his backpack. The things inside could be useful - clothing. Food. Equipment. And yet, she nodded to Piper as she placed it alongside the shroud. “For the journey through the underworld.” 

 

Hazel summoned a pure gold coin, placing it on his hand. “For the ferry.” 

 

And then, they just stood there. Saying goodbye, each in their own minds. Part of Piper still couldn’t believe it - just this morning, they had been laughing in the park, waiting for their friends to come back. The previous day, they had kissed and danced under the moonlight, enjoying each other’s company before the quest. 

 

Percy handed her his sword. She considered it for a moment - allowing him to go with it. But he was a hero. Where he was going, he would not need it. So she turned it into a coin, slipping it into her pocket instead. 

 

“I love you.” She said, even though she had said it a thousand times before. “Jason. I love you. I loved you ever since you saved me from death in the Grand Canyon, and then a hundred times after that. I love how you smile, and how you’re so perfectionist- But wait for me, okay? Don’t… Don’t try again. Trying three times… Let’s do it together. Wait for me in Elysium. Please. I’m coming for you… You just have to wait.” 

 

Her voice was weak by the end of her speech. And, somehow, it didn’t feel like a farewell, but a goodbye. 

 

Leo lit the fire, and soon, orange flames were jumping between the logs, speeding up as they reached the shroud, a handmade Cherokee weaving given to her by a mortal aunt, full of geometric patterns and flowers. It felt like he was taking something of hers with him. She was glad. 

 

Jason didn’t burn fast. And yet, as they stood under the snow, his pyre kept them warm. The smoke and smell permeated the air, and she would never forget it, forget the sounds as wood cracked and splintered… alongside bone. His flesh turning black, then the blackened bone turning white, contrasting with the black coal and grey ash. 

 

She had always thought a cremation left only ash behind. But there were still pieces of bone, big ones in fact. She could make out his skull, his bigger bones among the white powder. 

 

It was too much to carry. 

 

She kneeled by the ash, swiping some fistfuls of it in a ripped up shirt. Hazel called forth silver from the river, shaping it into a simple box, with no ornaments and a smooth lid. Just like how he would've liked. Piper placed the cloth and ashes inside, closing it with a small clank. 

 

“He would’ve liked to rest here forever.” She said for the first time since the fire had been lit. “It's beautiful.” 

 

Hazel nodded, the ground parting under the remains and the pyre coals, allowing the bone fragments and the ash to sink into the earth. It closed, silently, with a piece of schist marking where his head was. There was no name, no date, just a part of nature, soon covered by snowfall. 

 

She would give him a gravestone in Camp Half Blood. Not New Rome - Jason might have died a praetor, but he had lived a camper, deep in his soul. 

 

“Who did it?” She asked Percy. 

 

“Hound.” He replied. “I- I tried to save him, Piper. I really did.” 

 

She believed him. 

 

“I’ll kill him.” She said, fingers touching the weapon in her pocket. It wasn’t a boiling rage that drove her words, but something cold. The love of Aphrodite, that for centuries had motivated soldiers to keep fighting, to come home… and now fueled a revenge that would last longer than a pyre. 

 

She would kill Hound. Or do her best, and die trying. 

 

Turns out, she was not so different from those naive children in the bunkers of a cabin, dreaming of a tragedy bathed by love. She would fight for it. Because of it. 

 

But for now, she allowed herself to be guided to a tent - not hers. Annabeth 's. And fall asleep holding a pillow, and trying her hardest to pretend it could breathe just like him. 

 

 

Chapter 8: 8 - Two faced, caught in the middle

Notes:

I live!
I've been waiting so long to get to this chapter. Have fun.

They moved on after the funeral, the camp packed quickly and with not many words between them, but didn’t go very far. Even though they only had five more days to warn the Olympians of the upcoming conflict… 

 

It was not easy to move on after a sudden loss.

 

Throughout the flight, Piper stuck close to Percy, the entire group flying high above the clouds in the daylight. Their formation was tight, but the roar of the wind made it hard to hear anyone who wasn’t directly by their side. 

 

“I’m going to kill him. Hound.” Piper said, words being picked up only by Percy’s sensitive hearing. And yet, he could not stop himself from replying. 

 

“I swear, I’ll make sure you get a shot.” He promised. “I swear by the Styx.” 

 

The sudden thunder was not enough to distract Percy from Piper’s grateful expression, backdropped by hate and grief. Percy nodded, and they flew the rest of the way in much more companionable silence, a promise kept between them. 

 

Soon enough, the now-smaller group of demigods landed at the Cherry Creek State Park in Denver. It was not far away by any means, but a big city meant a better chance at losing their pursuers. 

 

“I don’t think we can keep travelling like we are.” Said Percy. They were going too fast, and he had to delay them. “They can clearly track our pegasi- and Arion, yes.” He added at the horse’s indignant neigh. 

 

Annabeth frowned. “It will take too long. We’ve been fighting them off so far.” 

 

‘ We?’ Percy thought. ‘ I have. And it wasn’t even real fights.’

 

“Better slower than not arriving at all. So far, it was only Spider and Hound. Them coming means Raven is threatened by us - She hasn’t sent more at once, but she might. We have no shot against Hare or her. Hound already killed Jason. Do you really want to risk it?” 

 

It was the first time any of them had acknowledged it out loud - that Jason wasn’t with them anymore. He was dead, and that made the threat against their lives more real, heavier on their shoulders. 

 

Annabeth pursed her lips, giving in. Slowly, the others seemed to agree as well. 

 

“We’re tired.” Said Frank. “Let’s camp here, it’s getting dark anyway. We barely got any rest in our other stop. And we leave in the morning.” 

 

Wordlessly, Piper slipped her backpack, starting to set up camp. Hazel’s mist would keep them hidden for the night, as no mortal expected six young adults to be camping in the middle of the park in December. 

 

The daughter of Aphrodite looked at the inside of her tent - empty, missing a blanket. And then at Percy, who had come back from gathering them some firewood. 

 

“Hey. Do you… have a tent or something?” 

 

Percy dropped the kindling and logs. “Not really, but it’s fine. I can manage.” 

 

She raised an eyebrow. “It’s like -10 c outside. I have space.” She didn’t miss how Annabeth stiffened behind Percy. Piper had considered it, asking Leo to share her tent so the couple could talk. But it felt too much, right now, too close of a reminder of the missing piece of their trio. 

 

And besides, Percy… Percy had fought off Hound for Jason. He made her feel safe, drove away the feeling in the back of her neck that the man would come back to take her life away at any moment, as if he was rounding up their group like a sheepdog, driving them into a trap. 

 

“Sure. Thanks, Piper.” He said. 

 

She nodded, and that was that. 

 

Leo’s food tasted like ash on her tongue. And not many of them ate properly that day, a bigger portion of food than usual being cast into the fire. A desperate prayer for help. (And, unknown to them all, Percy’s offering didn’t quite burn like the others, the smoke dissipating normally instead of rising into Olympus. There was no prayer cast with it.) 

 

“I asked some locals.” Said Frank. “There’s a Greyhound bus from here to Pittsburg, then another one to New York. It’s a two day trip, stopping in Saint Louis halfway through should take us three.” 

 

“So, just in time.” Replied Leo. 

 

“Yeah. There’s also a train. It… ah, we avoid Topeka and Kansas. To Indianapolis and then to New York. A bit faster as well.” He finished. “Which one do we prefer?” 

 

“Well, I’d like to avoid Kansas. And Saint Louis. I got enough terrorism charges related to that city, thanks.” Said Percy. “Plus… last time we took a bus, the Kindly Ones exploded it.” 

 

“Train it is.” Said Leo. “And we need all the time we can get.” 

 

With the decision to buy the tickets and leave by morning, and not really wanting any conversation, each of them retired to their tents. 

 

Piper was already under her covers when Percy lifted the flap and entered, leaving his shoes outside. “Hey.” 

 

“Hey, Percy.” She replied, shuffling to the side. He lifted a cover and laid by her side, and for a moment there they stayed, just feeling the heat radiating from each other’s bodies. 

 

Piper was never that close to Percy. So it was weird, for him to be her biggest source of comfort after Jason's death. But everyone else seemed to think she wanted space, or was grieving in their own way, while Percy… Well. She guessed he must be dealing with it in a different way. 

 

“I never expected to see any of you again when I was falling.” Percy broke the silence, staring into the silver ceiling of their tent, but seeing something else. “So, getting to spend a few more days with Jason… It was nice.” 

 

Piper felt a tear escaping her eye. “We didn’t think we would see you again either. I just hope… We meet back in Elysium.”

 

Percy said nothing, just extending a hand for her to take. It was rough, callused, and she could feel a raised scar on his palm. So different from Jason’s, more slender and beaten up. Different enough she could drift into sleep. 

“Hello, vita mia ” A male voice sounded in Percy’s dreams. 

 

He was lounging in his bed - not the one in the tent, but the large, luxurious one he shared with his partners in the House of Night, full of soft pillows and even softer blankets. By his side, with a hand splayed across his chest, was one of said partners. 

 

“Hello, darling.” He replied, leaning in for a kiss. Dream-Percy was half naked, as was dream-Nico, which his partner took advantage of, running his hands on his chest and hair. 

 

“Hm. Oneiromancy is so useful.” The paler man muttered against his lips. 

 

“I’m sharing the tent with Piper. Don’t get any ideas.” Percy warned. 

 

Nico huffed, but relented, choosing to just sit by Percy. “I’m not here just for that. I have news. Beckendorf finished with the Sphere, someone will hand it to you tomorrow. Which path are you taking?” 

 

“Train.” Percy replied, rattling off the line and times. “He was fast.” 

 

“It was simpler than we thought.” 

 

Nico let himself caress Percy’s hair for a while longer. Here, in this dreamscape, it was back to being fully black, the beautiful lines of tattoos shining with a metallic hue on his skin. He was gorgeous, and he had given in to him . 

 

“Is there more?” Percy asked. 

 

“Reyna is responding as we thought she would. The wolf is also taken care of.” 

 

“That’s the last of them then.” Percy smiled. “Get to us by the White River. I’ll draw them in-” 

 

Nico nodded, and didn’t allow Percy to finish his sentence before diving in for a kiss. “I know. I’ll take care of her now.” 

 

And so, Percy’s dream faded in a warm caress. 

Piper dreamed of a maze. Running, turning corners only to end up where she had begun, and yet trekking a single path towards… something. Earth walls closing in and opening around her, ghosts of memories formed by shadows of rocks and ridges. 

 

But she knew there was something ahead - salvation, an answer. So she kept on running. 

And running. 

Something was chasing her now. Heavy paws, the snarl and howl of a bloodhound, telling its master where the target was. She expected sharp teeth closing around her ankle at any moment, could smell the fetid breath of the beast, and feel the heat of its body. 

 

She tripped and fell, the ground opening just like the rifts from whence their enemies came, paralyzed by fear that the beast would reach her - but it had not fallen along. It was only her and the red mist, until even that gave way for darkness. 

 

In the distance, a star shone. She wanted to see it closer, and tried to fall towards it, seeing as it grew bigger and bigger… Until it wasn’t a star, but an immense castle of black marble and rainbow lights, iron spires and silver passageways dotting it like comets.

 

And one of the spires was aimed directly at her. Coming closer and closer, until it almost pierced her stomach- 

 

Only for her dream to change. 

 

She expected pain, but fell delicately in a bank of sand. Around her, more walls started to rise, and Piper ran, trying to escape the maze once again before it enclosed her. However, it was of no use, and she once again found herself in the long, winding tunnels. 

 

But this time, there was a sound. A screech, guiding her steps, to a large, round room. Right in the middle of it, a chained Raven tried to fly up, held back by the iron around its feet. 

 

A growl sounded behind Piper, and she turned to see it - the Hound. Blue eyes and dark fur, its teeth were bared, but it made no move to attack. Merely circling her, before lunging towards the Raven, who could not escape. 

 

Black feathers and blood spraying on her face woke her up. 

---

She shared her dream as they sat by their cabin in the train, looking to all passerbies like one more group of adventurous, outdoorsy teenagers. 

 

“A dog killing a raven…” Muttered Annabeth. “Could it be  a raven’s death as the augur of a new age?” 

 

“What, is there a magic dog we don’t know about? A wolf?” Leo asked. 

 

“Lupa, maybe?” asked Hazel. “But I don’t see how she would help us fight those Nox demigods. She doesn’t fight in the front lines. I’m more intrigued by the location… Do you guys think it could be the Labyrinth?” 

 

Percy frowned. “Didn’t we destroy it?” 

 

Hazel sighed. “No. Well, yes, but it came back. It was after you… fell. I can somewhat control parts of it and see through, but it’s grown wild without a true master to it. Maybe the Raven’s death is related to it - something or someone who can help us defeat them?” 

 

Annabeth clicked her tongue. “Well. We don’t have time for it right now - we need to get to Olympus before the solstice. Then, we see about that dream. Apollo is the god of prophecies, maybe he can help make sense of it all.” 

 

It was as good a plan as any. And yet, Piper had a feeling this would not be the last of the dreams they would have to deal with. 

 

“The castle.” She said. “Maybe it’s someone who can help us.” 

 

Percy barked out a laugh. “No. That 's no castle. What you saw was the House of Night.” 

 

Piper blanched, with the rest of her friends not looking much better. “But… It was huge. Floating on an island in that red mist. How are we supposed to attack that place?” 

 

“It’s almost impenetrable.” Percy agreed. “I first saw it when they… brought me there. I got out, of course, but it wasn’t easy. The mist you saw leads to nothing - you dissolve into dust if you fall on it, and there aren’t any blind spots you could approach from. The only way is sneaking in or out through something they expect to come. The walls are enchanted and almost unbreakable, and that’s if you can make it there - It floats beyond Tartarus, which you would have to cross first.” 

 

He didn’t have to elaborate on how hard that part would be. 

 

“All right. So we don’t fight them there.” Annabeth replied. “We draw Raven out, kill her, and her minions. She’s the one leading this.” 

 

Percy conceded. “Better than attacking the House.” 

 

The train shook on its trails, as if the mere mention of the House and its goddess made the path ahead warp and crumble. 

---

They made it to Indianopollis with no much problem - taking turns to sleep through the twenty one hours of travelling, all of them thought it was too easy, but didn’t dare to say a word. It was as if their enemies were giving them room to breathe before drowning them all over again. 

 

So they rushed to the next train, watching every passenger suspiciously as it started to move, approaching a bridge over a river. 

 

Of course, that was when it all went wrong. 

 

The first carriages passed the bridge normally. Yet, when they were right above it, it crumbled. Green flashes of light, and the foundations of the bridge itself were falling into the cold, half frozen river underneath them. 

 

Piper grabbed onto her knife, lunging for the window as Annabeth and Frank tried to open the doors of the cabin as they started to dip down, closer and closer into a free fall. Hazel helped her, hitting the window with her Spatha until the glass shattered- 

 

And then Piper lost her footing, her body floating up as the car fell down, gravity losing its hold on their bodies only to slam their backs to the roof. Then, they were sinking, and fast, water pouring in through the broken window and carrying pieces of sharp glass with it. 

 

One shard embedded itself on her arm. The water level rose to the roof in a matter of seconds, and she took one last breath before trying to swim out in the darkness-

 

And then, the currents were wrapping around her body, a bubble or air forming around her mouth and nose. And she was out of the carriage. 

 

Piper twisted around, only to be met with Percy’s cocky grin as he lounged in the water column. All around, her friends also had bubbles around their faces, their backpacks kept safe from water as well. 

 

“The other people in the carriage are fine.” Percy said, voice sounding slightly echo-y underwater, still with a rough undertone to it that the river could not mask. “We can stay underwater as long as we want, but I think I see an entrance to some structure about a hundred meters from here. We could hide out.” 

Annabeth nodded along, and Percy beckoned forward, water carrying Piper’s body with such speed and ease she didn’t even have to swim. Was that how Percy felt underwater every time? Like he was flying, but cradled by the air instead of fighting it? 

 

The structure he mentioned seemed like an abandoned sewer, the water around it as clean as a river in a city could be. It was sealed by a grid in a triangular pattern, but Percy just pulled it out, ripping the bolts as if it was nothing. A son of Poseidon in his natural habitat. 

 

And then, they were swimming in. Piper expected total darkness, but Annabeth pulled out a couple of those camping glowsticks, cracking them and passing them along, casting sickly yellow lights on the wall. Piper tried to not think that, if Percy were to lose hold of his powers, or something made him lose focus, they would all drown here. 

 

It was a perfect spot for an ambush. 

 

And yet, nothing came. 

 

After some ten minutes of swimming, their heads broke through the water, not out of air at all, as they did not have to hold it in the first place. The tunnel no longer led to sewers, however, but to a round room made of bricks, covered in limestone and decorated with tiles on the floor. 

 

Percy leaned against the wall, closing his eyes to recover some of his strength, even as water dripped out of Piper’s clothes and left her perfectly dry. 

 

“That was so cool.” Leo said, wide eyed. “So, so cool.” 

 

Percy gave him a thumbs up. 

 

“Hazel.” Frank asked. “Can you feel where we are?” 

 

Hazel frowned. Spun around. Frowned some more. Then, realisation dawned on her face. “The Labyrinth. There was a delta on those metal bars, not a triangle. We’ve been swimming inside of it for ten minutes now.” 

 

“... Fuck.” Said Leo, eloquently. 

 

“No, that 's good.” said Annabeth “Piper dreamed about it. And you can see through the Mist - we can make it out of here and to Olympus even faster now.” 

 

“The time dilation…” Percy muttered. “We don’t know that. Those ten minutes could have been hours already. We should go back.” 

 

“They’re probably watching our exit.” Leo retorted. “Hazel is good. We can at least make it out on a different path.”

 

They all turned to Hazel, waiting for her opinion. 

 

“I can try. We shouldn’t spend too long here - let’s get out and then go back to our original plan.” 

 

Percy and Annabeth nodded in agreement. 

 

And so, with Hazel leading them, they walked in. 

---

Something was wrong with the Labyrinth. 

 

Hazel knew they should be out a long time ago. But every time they turned to an entrance, it just led them to a dead end. They had food and water to last down there, but they lacked the time to be wrong. 

 

After the third wrong turn, she gave up. 

 

“It’s like there’s something working against me!” She said. “Like the Labyrinth doesn’t want us getting out, and it changes the exit as we get close.” 

 

“Or someone.” Piper said, eyes growing wide. “It was the same in my dream - I couldn’t get out. It only ended when I got to the Raven. Maybe we don’t have to get out - maybe the Labyrinth is trying to show us something. Like that time in the temple of Ares.” 

 

Annabeth seemed to consider that for a moment. “It's worth a shot. What do we do then?” 

 

Piper sighed. “We have to get lost. Let it show us the way.” 

 

“Go with the flow, you could say. Swim with the current.” Percy said, grinning.

 

Leo groaned. “Dude. That was terrible.” 

 

Hazel got up from her spot crouching against a wall. “All right. Let 's get lost.” 

 

And so, on and on they group of heroes walked, Piper at their lead. Each step hurt more than the last, their backpacks digging into their shoulders and heads aching from the low light in the tunnels. 

 

When it felt like they could not step forward one more time, though, the hall in front of them opened into a large, round chamber… with sandy floors. 

 

And there, in the middle of what Piper now recognised as an arena, was the Raven. 

 

Walking into the entrance was like hitting a wall face first. The power emanating from the woman was like a bulletproof pane of glass, and she could sense her friends stop as well. It was like an oppressive wall of heat, if it could burn through your skin and hit your bones like radiation, a burst of energy from a quasar. 

 

And yet, at the same time, something deeper pulled at them, almost physically - it was hard to say if the black hole attraction is what made their loose hair flow forward, or a breeze at their back. It was almost as if their sight grew dark around the edges, shadows dancing and twisting just out of sight, contrasting with the purple light emanating from her eyes. 

 

Leo had only felt such a presence once before - Percy. But while Percy had become a dangerous trench, this woman was something wrong in the very fabric of the universe, a child of darkness and something forbidden, warping the fabric of space and time around her. Trapping all who approached in an orbital dance, drawn closer and closer until the inevitable end where all would be consumed. 

 

The five heroes had stared down gods and monsters, and yet, this woman, who should be no different than them, almost made their knees buckle. 

 

It was hard to move past the feeling emanating from her body, and look at what she truly looked like. But they managed, being greeted with tan skin marked by black lines, metallic and iridescent, just like the splendid wings on her back. Stygian steel armour enveloped her body, forming sharp talons which dug into the packed sand of the arena itself, formed claws which curled around twin swords, aglow with purple light reflected in her eyes. 

 

Speaking of her eyes, they bored deep in their soul - seeing beyond what they could, the layers of reality ordered like the pages in a book. Feathers mingled with her hair, giving her an even more inhuman look. 

 

Piper felt cold water trickling down her spine, like a second beast had approached. For it was indeed a beast of myth standing alone in the arena, not a mortal creature. She expected to turn and see Hound, an animal with bared teeth and blood on its breath. 

 

But it was Percy, placing a hand on her shoulder and unsheating his bone sword, a long black chain extending from inside his sleeve. 

 

The Raven smiled, sharp fangs glinting in the artificial light cast by braziers. “Perseus Jackson. The troublemaker.” Her voice was raspy like Percy’s, low, with an old accent. Something not from this century. 

 

“Raven.” Percy replied. “There’s a duel we haven't finished yet.” 

 

Her black-painted lips parted. “Indeed.” 

 

“Percy, no.” Said Annabeth. “She’s toying with you. She doesn’t want to fight all of us.” 

 

The woman laughed, a cacophonous sound that bounced off the walls like a stray bullet. “Annabeth Chase, Wisdom’s Daugther… Oh, darling. I could face all of you five and win, in fact, with my eyes closed from this world. Face me as a group or alone, the outcome shall be the same.”

 

Percy stepped forward, a stilted motion, almost hesitant. “Fight only me then, and let them proceed.” 

 

“If they survive.” She agreed, tilting her head in a bird-like fashion. 

 

And then, she blinked out of existence, appearing in a flash of shadows in front of Percy. 

 

Before Piper could reach out and help, she had him by the neck, and tossed him like a ragdoll across the arena. Percy landed with a spray of sand on the floor, tumbling backwards before regaining his feet. 

 

“She’s the daughter of Nyx herself. Don’t fight her alone.” Those had been Percy's words about the woman. “ I don’t think all of us together could manage to beat her without help.”

 

And yet, there he was, going against his own word. 

 

Annabeth tried to step forward, to help - only to be met with an invisible wall. Like air solidified, she banged her fists against it, but it was no use.

 

Percy had regained his balance, spinning a chain towards the woman, lightning fast - Annabeth could barely keep track of it… 

 

And yet, it missed the Raven by a mile. 

 

“They’re strong. Fast. Heal quick. All too much even for a demigod. And they all have different powers, and more training than us all.” 

 

The woman cast her hand forward, feather-shaped knives flying towards Percy, who just barely dodged. They hit the stone wall, going deeper than any nails. One of them hit a brazier, cutting cleanly through and slipping coals in the sand. 

 

Percy’s chain hit the sand, sending a spray towards the woman. Using the cover, he ran towards her, sword ready for a strike, only to be blocked by her own blades. 

 

The bone sword fell to the floor, blade cut in half, blackened by heat and electricity. 

 

“Oh, come on!” Leo yelled. “Lightsabers?” 

 

The tone of the fight changed after that, Percy dodging as best as he could while she attacked. Percy was the most skilled fighter alive in the demigod world, that was no secret, and yet, he was barely keeping up. 

 

His chains darted like a meteor hammer, looking for a way to hook around one of her limbs, only to be deflected by metal wings. His feet were certain against the uncertain sand, yet not fast enough to gain an edge over the blades facing him. 

 

However, even with all that, there was a rhythm to it. Percy was slyly circling the arena, approaching them - approaching the fallen backpack just inside the confines of the arena. And, when he was close enough, a jet of high pressure water darted from it, breaking free from his bottle. 

 

It caught the Raven by surprise, cutting across her face as she narrowly avoided losing an eye, wings flapping up and sending sand flying. 

 

Black blood dripped across the white floor, and a glowing weapon clattered and dimmed into black metal between them. 

 

The water returned to Percy’s hand, forming an icy sword. He smiled, something almost feral, forged by steel. The expression that had always terrified his enemies and allies alike, a storm barely contained and a tsunami about to hit the coast. 

 

Raven returned the smile, switching her stance to something one-handed, and they were back at it again, ice against scorching energy. Where her sword hit, the blade reformed, switching length and shape. 

 

Percy should be winning. And yet, the woman did not look concerned at all, dancing around him like air, feet light on the sand, saving up her movements. 

 

Annabeth realised what she was doing a few seconds after. 

 

“She’s stalling.” 

 

“What?” Asked Hazel. 

 

“The longer we spend here, the less time we have to go to Olympus. She’s stalling us, making sure we can’t catch her.” 

 

Realisation dawned on her quest mates as she spoke. Percy had to end this fight, and he had to end it fast. Yet, a grin spread across his face, a laugh barely contained, as if this was just a friendly spar and not something that could define the end of the world. 

 

“Percy! We’re out of-” Annabeth could not finish her sentence. 

 

Her words caused him to falter, steps tangling. 

 

And a glowing sword pierced his chest. 

 

“-Time.” Finished the Raven. “Yes, you are.” 

 

She withdrew her sword, the blood on it evaporating and burning. 

 

Percy’s body hit the ground. 

The walls around them came down. Annabeth, whose weight was all supported by them as she tried desperately to pass, stumbled forward. 

 

Uncaring, she ran towards Percy’s body, passing by the Raven’s side unscathed. Half blind by tears, she pressed her hands on his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. But before she could have a good look, someone grabbed her by the back of her shirt - clawed hands, tossing her body aside as if she was a misbehaving kitten. 

 

“No!” She screamed, feeling the blood on her hands, sticky, and cold. She looked down at them, the black liquid covering her palms, pooling around Percy’s body.

 

The… Black liquid. 

 

“Their blood turned into black ichor”  Is what Percy had said. 

 

Her vision shook, and she could feel her friends gather behind her, Leo’s warm hands and Hazel’s cold ones holding her back. 

 

“Yes. You are out of time.” The Raven said. Piper lunged towards her, knife extended - only to be turned around and left flat on her face in a single fluid motion, weapon in the enemy’s hand. She sputtered, spitting out pale grains, holding her wrist against her body. 

 

In a blur of motion, her knife was driven into Frank’s arm by the dark haired woman. With a kick, the spurs on the back of her heel cut cleanly across Hazel’s face and abdomen, leaving her curled up in pain on the floor, and before Leo could do more than light up his hands, he was hit over both his ears, also falling by the daughter of Pluto’s side. 

 

And, all through this… Annabeth connected the dots. 

 

Percy had black ichor on his hands. 

 

He had vanished with Jason that day, and returned with him dead. 

 

He knew far too much about the enemy. 

 

Percy was one of them. 

 

Two boots stopped by her front, and Annabeth looked up at the woman. “You have finally pieced it all into one, have you not?” She asked, smiling. 

 

Behind her, Percy got up, the wound on his chest almost closed. 

 

“Percy… why?” Annabeth asked, feeling her friends try to get up. Frank clutched his arm desperately, and Piper had run to Hazel’s side, using her one good hand to staunch the bleeding on her face. Leo was on his hands and knees, barely moving. 

 

“The gods betrayed me one too many times.” He replied, the previous joyful cadence of his voice gone, leaving only behind the raspy wounds on his vocal chords, a product of breathing in poison for so long. 

 

Annabeth tried to get up, the situation so familiar to one she had been in, less than a decade ago - with someone else she loved above her, gold in his eyes. 

 

Her body would not move. 

 

“What…?” 

 

Percy smiled, a sharp thing, almost sadistic. “There is no water in Tartarus. So I learned how to control other things. How does it feel, Annabeth, to be betrayed by your own blood? To have it turn against you? Over and over again?”

 

The woman placed a hand across his shoulders, something sensual, almost intimate. She was taller than him, her mouth at the right height to pretend to whisper something in his ear. “It 's our time. The gods will pay, today.” With a twist of her wrist, a different sword materialised from thin air. 

 

A very familiar sword, with a curved blade and flint on the hilt, now restored. The Harpe. 

 

And Percy took it. 

 

Trickster of the Earth wields the dishonest blade 

 

The words came to Annabeth’s mind as his fingers closed on the hilt, over the claws of the woman who held him like a lover. Her other hand handed him a familiar sphere, one she had seen Leo explain over and over again. One he kept in his pocket, where Percy once stashed the sword. 

 

He had been a traitor all along. 

 

“It was so easy to have you six waste time.” The Raven said. “Well. Five.”

 

“There’s a magic sword,” Percy said, mockingly. “That will solve all your problems. Conveniently in a poorly guarded museum.” 

 

Annabeth wanted to scream, to say this wasn’t really Percy. She waited to see him turn around and stab the woman, saying it was all a ploy. 

 

He never did. 

 

He had tricked gods and monsters. Gaea herself had fallen for his half-truths and games. It was always something that gave him strength, allowed him to face enemies much stronger. 

 

And now, it would be their downfall. 

 

Nor Annabeth nor any of her companions could move as the duo turned their backs to them, as a glowing purple portal opened itself before their very eyes, and they stepped through. 

 

Only once it closed, she could feel her body again, her blood once more pumping by her heart’s accord, and not someone else’s manipulation. But by then it was too late. 

 

Her hands were stained in black blood, and her last hope had just slipped away. 

Notes:

I apologise for nothing.

Chapter 9: 9 - The war is won before its begun

The portal closed behind Percy’s back with a crackle of energy, dropping him in a snow-covered Bryant Park. In the cold, the black ichor on his chest dripped sluggishly, half frozen before it reached the ground. His wound might be closed, but the substance still soaked his clothes. Or, well, it did, before he pulled it away and froze it in a single ball of dark ice, allowing it to shatter and vanish into the air. 

 

Nat, by his side, pulled him in for a kiss, Percy’s lips meeting hers like a man starved being gifted a feast worthy of Olympus. In his mind, she whispered. ‘Good job, my Hound. We are almost done now.’ 

 

Almost done… and then, peace would be found in a new age. He held onto her like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood, his own thoughts a storm wilder than any hurricane he could summon. Percy could not drown, and had very little need for breath, and yet he gasped for air, not because of the kiss, but in despair at what he was meant to do now. Their entire plan hinged on his success, now more than ever. Not just victory, but safety for demigod children, the possibility of a new future. 

 

“You’ve always managed to overcome all odds. And, this time, the Moirai are on your side, darling.” Nat said aloud, her words and the weight of the Harpe in his hands a comfort much needed. 

 

He took one last steadying breath, and nodded. 

 

With a snap of her fingers, the snow melting on his shoulders vanished, replaced by red, sticky blood splattered all across his chest and face. Not an illusion, but vital liquid obtained from something no longer living. It was too risky to cast yet another illusion upon him - the ones already in place had taken days to stabilize, be opaque enough to last until they were no longer needed, and the defenses around Olympus were strong. 

 

He twisted the Harpe in his hand. Getting that sword was both the easiest and hardest part of this entire plan. He had told Annabeth that there was no magic sword, and that was partially true - the Harpe was no specific weapon. It was a blade used for betrayal, obtained by obscured intentions and surrounded by lies. The consecration of the stolen sword into the blade had begun with stabbing Beckendorf, cemented deeper by murdering Jason in cold blood. It had been broken, and then, reforged with a piece of Backbiter’s steel. 

 

And yet, it was not complete. From her back, Natalie pulled a bronze dagger, so familiar to his eyes. A blade that had saved his life so many times ago, a cursed knife which had reaped a hero’s soul. Annabeth 's dagger. 

 

It floated in the air between them, Percy uncapping the red and white-hot waters of the Phlegedon  and allowing them to melt the metal, slowly dripping over the flat of the Harpe like golden tears, melding in in beautiful streaks. 

 

Now, the forging was complete. The twisted leftovers of the dagger were sheathed behind Natalie’s back, still pointed. Still lethal. 

 

Under his sleeve, Natalie clasped a steel bracelet. With one last look of reassurance, and no words exchanged, she left, wings causing the snow to dance chaotically around him. Nothing had to be said. 

 

And so, Percy walked the remaining blocks towards the Empire State Building. Midnight of the Winter Solstice approached, the moment where the gods would be gathered in Zeus’ throne room. Their time in the Labyrinth had been calculated, weeks of spellcrafting allowing Natalie, Bianca and Zoe to take full control of it, left without a master. It mattered little if Hazel managed to find the nearest exit in Central Park - by the time they recovered and arrived, if they did, Percy would be done. 

 

The guard at the entrance was not mortal. No, in such dangerous times, not even Zeus was foolish enough to leave just anyone to keep the entrance of their seats of power safe. Instead of a man in a uniform, by the elevator doors stood Herakles, lion skin cape fluttering in the cold air Percy let in. 

 

“I’m going to Olympus.” Percy said. 

 

“Sorry, I can’t let you up.” The most famous of Greek warriors replied. 

 

“I wasn’t asking for permission.” He replied. 

 

He didn’t even need the Harpe. 

 

Herakles’ skin might be invulnerable, and he might possess great strength. But in his body, water still flowed. His lungs still needed air. He was immortal, but only a minor god. 

 

It took seconds for his body to fall to the floor, frozen and yet limp, golden ichor pouring from his mouth and onto Percy’s chain. The Romans would call it cowardly - to not give your opponent a fighting chance. Natalie called it smart. 

 

Percy called it efficient. 

He absently cleaned off the ichor that had spilled on his face, a droplet snaking its way on his mouth - it tasted sweet, like sugar syrup. After making sure no gold was visible on his skin and clothes, he pressed the hidden elevator button. 

The doors dinged open, Olympus more deserted than he had ever seen it, save maybe the last fight against Luke’s army. Nothing was broken, but no minor gods were seen, no nature spirits or deities going about their business, preparing for the feats that often followed these meetings. 

 

That was expected. There were not many minor deities left on Olympus. A few had simply vanished. Some had already switched sides. A few were joined by Herakles, their essence returning to the dark mist sea around the House. 

 

He marched on. 

Percy stopped at the doors of the Throne Room, tilting his spine, hand placed over the tear on his chest - best to hide the lack of wound for now - forcing his breathing into something ragged, raspy. 

 

It was not hard. He had breathed enough poison to be able to mimic its symptoms easily.

 

And then, he pushed the doors open, stumbling forward. 

As expected, the gods were already all present, caught up on discussions and arguments, in a semicircle around Olympus’ Heart. Only Hestia noticed his entrance at first, eyes lighting up with confusion, then surprise, and finally, worry. 

 

Percy walked on, extending a bloodied hand towards the altar where the sacred flame laid. One word slipped his lips. 

 

“ Xenia ” 

 

It was like a knife cutting through Zeus’ tirade, something about sending aid to Atlantis. At once, their gaze was cast over him, as Hestia ran forward, the goddess of the home offering hospitality with open arms, on which Percy fell, as if with no strength left. 

 

She guided him, towards the white marble stained in silver soot. His hand that did not hold the Harpe left a crimson stain over it as she supported his weight on her chest, both of them kneeling before the gods. 

 

He could tell, the moment his father’s eyes realised who he was. How they grew wide, and the god motioned almost as if he was about to get up, run towards him. To greet his hero, returned home. 

 

Percy’s bloodied hand cradled the back of Hestia’s head. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, as he adjusted the grip on his sword, trapped between their bodies, angled upwards. 

 

She made no sound as she died, only growing limp. Heavy. Ichor sprayed on his face, and Percy allowed her weight to pull them both down, head held low. A sinner, not penitent over his faults, but regretful even then. 

 

Olympus grew dark, the eternal fire on the Heart sputtering out as the essence of she who tended for it returned to Creation. On the walls, torches still shined bright, casting the murderer in a stage of shadow surrounded by fire. 

 

Zeus motioned, as if to get up. But before the king of the gods could finish moving, the stone brazier once more came to life. Sweet ichor trickled down Percy’s face, into his mouth, down his throat. And, as he consumed the divine essence, he could feel the warmth of Hestia settling deep in his chest. 

 

The flame of Mount Olympus was no longer a warm, soft orange. Now it burned a cold blue, much like the foxfire of the House of Night. It had a new master, a new tether to this plane. And with it, the last line of defense of Olympus. 

 

Electricity and ozone concentrated on Zeus’ hands, a master bolt of lightning flying towards Percy. It might have scared him, was he a mortal still. 

 

Not anymore. 

 

He had held onto it once, felt the energy the bronze cylinder contained. He knew how much power it carried. 

 

And he was stronger. 

 

Lightning met bronze, a small sphere held onto his palm absorbing it all. It exploded, controlled. Precise. Programmed. 

 

The power of Zeus turned back against his subjects, a net designed by Daedalus and Leo, altered by Beckendorf, splitting into twelve pieces, each binding an Olympian to their throne. 

 

It would not hold them forever, powered by Zeus’ strike. But it did not have to. 

 

“Percy… Why?” Asked Poseidon, a broken expression on his face as he watched his son, his hero, turn back on them. 

 

“I once had a choice.” He said. “To preserve or raze Olympus to the ground.” 

 

He stepped forward, feeling the illusion placed on him fade away, no longer needed. Mortal clothing giving way to dark armour, a deep blue half-cape fluttering behind him as the Harpe shined more golden than ever. 

 

“I chose wrong.” 

 

Horror dawned on the face of the Olympians, rendered powerless by the fruit of their own heroes and martyrs and their own actions. Behind him, Percy felt a portal open, metallic steps falling into rhythm with his, spurs grazing the marble like sharp talons. 

 

“I rescind that choice now.” 

 

With those last words, he reached his father. He looked small like this, bound down in a throne, staring up at Percy. 

 

“Percy, please. This isn’t you-” 

 

“Yes. Yes it is. You just turned a blind eye to me, choosing to see the hero you needed. And, when I was no longer worth the trouble, when you did not need me anymore, you, father of monsters, left me alongside them in Tararus. Allowed to suffer, in a place you know very well how bad it is.” 

 

Poseidon’s power strained against the trap. The bronze warped, starting to give away. The sea could never be restrained. 

 

Percy brought the Harpe down. 

 

More ichor spilled, and he could hear someone - some god or goddess - scream. His hands grew warm with the divine blood, and he raised one of them to his mouth, licking a clear strip over it. 

 

Poseidon’s ichor tasted different than Hestia’s. Salted, like brine. Like the sea. For a second, the oceans grew still. 

 

And then, they were flowing through Percy’s veins. Storms raging on his nerves, earthquakes rattling his bones. The power of one of the Big Three Olympians, making him close his eyes. Breathe. Open them again, now marked with flecks of fire and ice. 

 

Apollo looked at him, the god with the smooth speech.  “Percy…” 

 

“Hear me, Phebo Apollo, he who wounds from afar, wielder of Truth, and know what I speak is no falsehood.” Natalie said, voice echoing through the hall. “The Night has watched, and She is displeased. By the waters of Styx you have sworn, and over her waters an oath was broken. Now, the culmination of your actions arrives at your sacred hall.” 

 

With each word, the god’s faces grew paler and paler, and their struggle, more intense. The bronze chains shattered apart. 

 

And yet, the gods found they could not move. The ichor in their veins held frozen by Percy. True horror dawned upon those who before thought themselves all-powerful, untouchable. Betrayed by their blood. 

 

“You broke a vow to Styx.” Percy said. “You swore to watch over your demigod children, and keep them safe. You swore to be better. You failed. This is retribution.” 

 

The whistle of an arrow screeched, coming from the shadows cast by the thrones of the gods. A silver flash flew on, piercing Artemis’ silver eye. At the same time, a dark, silent dart broke through Demeter’s skull, throwing her head back against the throne. 

 

From the shadows emerged Bianca and Zoe, faces bare for the world to see, wielding weapons that had shot projectiles tipped with pieces of the Harpe, now fully consecrated by the breaking of Xenia . And, from the blue fire, more former heroes emerged, rising back from the underworld in a rightful mission. 

 

Hermes could not speak, only looking in horror as his son once more walked the grounds of Olympus, weapon in hand, heading towards his throne. His throat slit by one who was both a villain and a hero to the sacred halls. 

 

Hephaestus’ head was next, falling down from his throne by a halberd wielded by Beckendorf, the lynchpin of the previous war. He whose death signified the beginning of the final conflict. 

 

Aphrodite was the one to speak, to plead before her death, weaving charmspeak on her words. One of the most powerful olympians, yet her pleas fell on deaf ears, unheard by the daughter she could not save, impaled by the same spear Silena had died wielding, now covered in unholy bronze.

It was fast - in seconds, the House of Night accomplished what not even Gaea or her children could. The bodies of seven Olympians littered the ground, their blood running into the cracks of the white marble like rivers, pooling by the Heart. 

 

“Kneel before me, Zeus, King of Gods, son of Rhea.” Natalie said, in something barely above a whisper. The god found himself free to move, Percy’s hold on his blood set free. “Kneel, and I shall show mercy to the rest of your siblings and children.” 

 

Zeus stood, eye to eye with the Night Raven. Electricity gathered in his hands, one bold of lightning flying across them - Only to be held on Natalie’s bare hand. 

 

“I have stolen your power long ago. Through blood and pain, it is mine.” She said, not raising her voice. “Kneel.” 

 

This time, Percy did not give him the option. 

 

From her back, Natalie unsheathed the cursed blade of the Great Prophecy. Handed to her by Percy after the reforging of the Harpe, it ran across Zeus’s neck, her other hand holding his throat bare, pulling his hair much like one would hold a sacrificial lamb in slaughter. His throne was the final altar where his divinity was seen. 

 

Turning towards the gods, the Night Raven licked the molten blade clean, electricity running down her veins, and purple thunder shaking the halls of Olympus. 

 

With a foot, as if he was nothing but a nuisance in her way, the new Queen of the sacred mountain kicked down her predecessor’s corpse. Crowned by shadow and anointed by divine ichor, she sat on the throne. 

 

It changed, black marble turning black and silver stone. Free to move, the gods got up, running from the spreading darkness of the new rulers of their temples. Their thrones, once abandoned, crumbled to dust, with only seven seats remaining. 

 

There, the children of the cold corpses at their feet sat. 

 

A gleaming, purple portal still sizzled, alive, behind the gods. 

 

“Your king has shown you no mercy.” Natalie said. “But our revenge has been enacted, and now only justice remains to be done. As such, I offer you, Olympians, a fighting chance. Leave now, gather the few you have left loyal to you, and fight us in a proper battlefield. Or stay, and be slaughtered in a single night, with no honour to your name.” 

 

Ares looked like he wanted a fight. Apollo’s eyes, shining with divine fire, seemed to agree. But Athena, of bright eyes, and Hera, of niveous arms, held them back. With not a word spoken, the Olympians retreated. 

 

If they could even be still called that. 

 

Olympus had fallen. 

 

And now, only Night remained.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of Falling