Chapter Text
Chapter 1: “So Apparently the Fates Moonlight as Interdimensional Uber Drivers”
♡︎ Percy Jackson ♡︎
The day started with me face-planting into a floor so cold and shiny, I saw my nose get smushed in high-definition reflection. Not my best moment.
You ever wake up in a place that smells like lightning, regret, and sandalwood-scented doom? No? Just me?
Great.
It was supposed to be a normal day at Camp Half-Blood. Morning training, lunch with Grover, maybe some light monster maiming. Instead, I got yoinked out of my nap by a sparkly spaghetti tornado and dumped in the middle of what looked like a divine courtroom designed by someone who hates joy.
The walls were made of white marble so polished it probably had a better skincare routine than me. Pillars rose into nothingness. Giant statues of gods loomed over everything like judgmental gym bros. And there was this buzzing in the air—magic, power, and the kind of anxiety you only feel when you realize your sword is missing and you’re wearing pajama pants with cartoon sharks on them.
“Percy?” came a voice behind me. Annabeth. Sharp. Calm. Already annoyed. Thank the gods.
I twisted around just in time to catch her landing in a crouch, her celestial bronze dagger already drawn. She looked around and scowled. “Where are we?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I said, groaning as I stood. “One second I was napping, next second—boom. Swirly vortex, glitter storm, and now this.”
“I told you not to nap near the strawberry fields. The Fates have a thing for dramatic entrances.”
I was about to respond when a thud echoed nearby, followed by a very confused “Ow, my face! Did we get kidnapped by gods again? Because I’m not emotionally ready for that.”
Leo Valdez. Naturally.
Then came Jason, Frank, Hazel, Piper, Nico, Clarisse, and Will, all popping in one by one like demigod confetti. The last to arrive was Clarisse, who immediately tried to punch the nearest wall.
The wall didn’t flinch.
Clarisse did.
And then, the booming voice came.
“You are not supposed to be here.”
We all turned. And yeah, that’s when the tall, thunderous, lightning-wrapped figure of Thor himself entered the scene like a rockstar having a bad day. Dude looked like he bench-pressed planets for breakfast. His hammer sparked with enough energy to fry all of New Jersey.
He glared at us like we were a group of annoying squirrels in his godly garden.
“State your names and purpose,” Thor growled.
“Hi, Leo Valdez,” Leo said, smiling way too wide. “Builder. Pyromancer. Single. I love your hammer. Can I touch it?”
Thor’s expression didn’t change. If anything, it got more judgmental.
“Leo,” Annabeth hissed under her breath. “Now is not the time to flirt with thunder gods.”
“But he’s hot!”
“Focus!”
“Fine.”
Thor raised his hammer. “You are not of this realm. You do not belong. Explain yourselves before I smite you.”
I stepped forward, holding up my hands. “Okay, first of all, cool it with the smiting. We just got here, and honestly, I think the real blame falls on the Fates. You know them, right? Weird trio, lots of yarn, big fans of messing up lives?”
At the mention of the Fates, Thor paused.
Then, as if on cue, a swirl of gold light appeared behind us and out walked three familiar figures—cloaked, hooded, and dripping with chaos energy: the Moirai themselves.
Clotho smiled at us like a kindergarten teacher introducing her students to a volcano. “We brought them here.”
Thor frowned. “Why?”
“Because they are the last hope of humanity.”
Will raised a hand. “Wait, what?”
Clotho continued, “These demigods will speak with the gods of this realm. Persuade them. Charm them. Convince them that humanity deserves to live.”
There was a silence so thick even Leo didn’t crack a joke.
“Okay,” I finally said. “That’s a lot. Like, whole new level of destiny nonsense. Just so we’re clear—you brought us here to stop Ragnarok?”
“Yes,” Lachesis said calmly.
“By talking?”
“Yes.”
“To the gods.”
“Yes.”
“Who hate humans.”
“Yes.”
“And we’re the best option?”
Atropos tilted her head. “You were available.”
I turned to the others. Jason was frozen like a broken statue. Nico looked like he was planning seven different escape routes. Annabeth was pale, which was very concerning. And Leo had just found a golden apple on the floor and was juggling it.
“Cool,” I said finally. “Just one question.”
Everyone turned to me.
“What’s Plan B?”