Chapter Text
“What should we do?” hissed Miranda Gardner. Her verdant green eyes darted around the Big House warily, as though a monster could ambush her at any moment.
Castor could relate. Ever since the gods had found out about the Other world, things had started getting out of control. It had started… well, not small, but at least survivable. Dad had been too busy smothering him and Pollux to defend Chiron, and so the centaur had been unceremoniously scapegoated for not “protecting” them from the “imposters.”
Was the idea that they could be loving parents so alien to them? Pollux had been taken aback. Their dad had never failed to impress upon them the strength of divine devotion. He'd personally told them tales of how he had personally ascended Ariadne to godhood every night when they were small. Then again, Dionysus had once been human; that wasn’t true of the other gods.
It was undeniable that their father cared for them. But it grated on him, sometimes. How he spared no expense to dote on him and Pollux, but never failed to treat the other campers with disdain. He couldn’t even get Luke’s name right, and he’d been here for over seven years! He always spoke of the other demigods with casual disdain, a sense of arrogance that he tried to encourage within him and his twin. This casual neglect, this easygoing malice… was this what everyone else felt?
If Castor was any other camper… he’d be understandably bitter at the gods. It was a miracle that Luke wasn’t. Gods knew that Hermes was easily the worst of the lot. Castor could say that for a fact, having met the Other Hermes, who was one of the most caring parents he’d ever met. He certainly would never leave half of his kids to rot unclaimed in his own cabin, then demand their affection when he finally deigned to show up.
Speaking of Luke, they were lucky he’d taken watch tonight, or else their little counsellor’s meeting probably would have been busted by an errant Hermes or a busybody Apollo. While the gods had been confined to Olympus for the Winter Solstice, they had been extremely overbearing while Camp had the displeasure of dealing with their presence. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily) Luke was Hermes’s favorite, so all of his attention was focused on him. And while that stung, at least the Hermes campers had another parent who would actually give a damn about their existence.
Travis piped up, determined to break the silence. “I say we should all just stay in the Other Olympus,” he said, carefully gauging everyone’s expressions.
“Yeah,” said Malcom, head counsellor in-name-only of the Athena Cabin, “They’d keep us safe from this whole war mess.” His eyes met Annabeth’s as he spoke, and Castor resisted the urge to wince. She’d been disowned by her birth mother. No matter how much the Other Athena loved her, that had got to sting.
Silena Bureaugard sighed in response. “But what if they just make us choose a side?” she said, a downcast expression on her face. For all that she put on a brave face for the Aphrodite Cabin, she was terrified of the gods. And for good reason, too: if they could cultivate such devotion just for giving a few scraps of affection, what would they use it for? Gods were fundamentally selfish creatures; they were lucky that the Other Olympians were selfish enough to focus their divine might on giving them the best lives possible.
Castor fought not to blush as he remembered how much the Other Dionysus had doted on him and Pollux. The god had given them leopard pelts they could use to change shape, and had boosted their chlorokinesis to extend to all sorts of vegetation, not just strawberries and grapevines. He well and truly loved them, and Castor was sure of this, because he gave them the power necessary for them to walk away if they really wanted to. So despite the doubts swirling in his mind, he really didn't think Silena needed to fear the Other Aphrodite. No matter how much her birth mom scared the life out of him.
“I agree,” said Beckendorf, squeezing Silena’s shoulder. She leaned back into his touch, seeming to gain strength from his presence. And they thought they were subtle!
He spoke with iron determination, “We should focus on keeping everyone here as safe as possible. So that no one else disappears on us.” So that no one feels the need to join Kronos went unsaid, but rang out loud and clear.
“But they can protect us!” insisted Connor, brows furrowed in consternation, “I mean, they literally made Thalia a goddess! And Katie’s over there, and Clarisse, and–”
“And that’s why we’re not joining them yet,” interjected Annabeth. Her eyes glinted with something hard. “Their doors are always open,” she waved a hand at the shimmering white doorway she’d conjured into existence, “But right now, we need to save ourselves. Prove that we don’t need their protection.”
She stabbed her dagger through the table with a loud thwunk. Castor frowned and leaned forward to see where it had hit. The Celestial Bronze blade had gone right through the map of Camp Half-Blood that lay sprawled across it, right where Zeus’s Fist was.
“Renee has found something that could turn the tide of the war. Have you ever heard of the Labrynith?”
Athena’s gaze was stony as Hecate was forcibly removed from Olympus. The goddess had shown up during their Winter Solstice meeting, demanding to know where her son was. Why the child of some minor deity should be the concern of the Olympian Council was not something she could answer, and to further underscore her irrationality, she’d started conjuring Greek fire when Zeus had declared the matter closed. Athena was forced to call upon the wind spirits to escort her out.
The situation grated on her. The gods were greatly weakened by the waning faith of their demigod subjects, a matter that forced all of them to conserve their power, lest they be caught unawares. Her foolish children were at the forefront of such an effort, pledging loyalty to Kronos’s forces. They were clearly made from lesser thoughts if they were swayed so easily by those imposters. She had often disparaged Hermes for choosing lesser stock to copulate with, but clearly she too should have spent more time choosing her partners. The Olympians needed strong, loyal children more than ever. Children who would never betray them.
She frowned as she entered her temple, waving off Apollo's concerns. Wisdom didn't need anyone else's help to succeed, despite what others claimed.
She stopped in her tracks. Something was there, waiting for her. She donned her aegis, determined to meet the intruder in battle. They would know the wrath of an Olympian on this day for daring to violate her sacred grounds.
As she approached, she heard girl-like laughter. Just what had invaded her most sacred place? She would show these upstarts the true wrath of an Olympian god.
She came to a stop before the flung-open doors to her tapestry room. Two shadows extended from the torchlight.
Had she a mortal heart, it would have frozen in an instant. Standing before the tapestry depicting her victory over Poseidon were two goddesses shrouded in shadow. Despite herself, she donned her spear and shield. For Pallas and Athena stared back at her.
“Welcome,” said Pallas, looking just like the day she’d lost her. Athena could feel her physical form shaking even as she levelled her spear at her.
“You’ve been hard at work, haven’t you? Ever the loyal Ergatis,” the sea-eyed goddess murmured, tracing the weave with a pale hand.
“Indeed,” drawled the Imposter, grey eyes focused unflinchingly at her, “She’s been busy playing ever the loyal lapdog to the Tyrant.”
“How dare you,” Athena seethed, willing the air to freeze under the force of her wrath, “I am the King’s Wisdom. I am not some pawn!”
At her words, the Imposter merely cocked her head.
“Are you sure?” she asked, voice dangerously even, “You seem to have forgotten to turn off your heart. You are far too emotional to evaluate the situation clearly.”
“Indeed,” agreed Pallas, fully facing her now. She was wearing the same armor she had been when she’d died.
“I find it difficult to believe you are a warrior of the mind,” she continued, her words echoing in Athena’s ears, “You seem to have forgotten some of the most basic tenets.”
Pallas stepped forward, not minding the spear aimed straight at her heart. She stepped through it as though it were made of water, ichor dripping down its shaft onto Athena’s greaves. Even as gold bled through her chest, Pallas’s eyes were calm, like the sea before a squall.
“Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves. Shouldn’t you know that better than anyone, Pallas Athena?” Pallas refused to let her retreat, gripping the spearhead and pulling her in closer. “You killed Innocence the day you killed me,” she murmured. Athena could feel her grip on her weapon slacken as she desperately tried to pull away. She couldn’t do this. It was like her sister was dying in her arms once more.
“And yet, you refuse to do what is necessary. In the past, you rebelled against the god-king when his reign turned unjust,” Pallas sighed, hand cradling Athena’s jaw. It was cold, like ice, just like that day. “But now, you enable his tyranny even as your kingdom crumbles around you, content in your ignorance.”
The Imposter let out a mocking hoot, making a show of walking to Athena’s side. She nonchalantly knocked the shield out of her grip, enveloping both of them in her great wings.
“Indeed,” echoed the Imposter, “And now, it is too late. Father did always like to say that pride is the undoing of kingdoms.”
“And now, dear sister?” smiled Pallas. Athena felt her very being drown under the weight of her despair. She was well and truly alone, now, with no one coming to her aid any time soon. The shimmering white portal before her confirmed that.
The Imposter smirked, “I’d say that it’s a damsel in distress, waiting for a hero that will never come.”
Chris willed his hands not to shake as he raised them to knock at the door. He was going to be the hero of the prophecy. Kronos had assured him of that. He just needed his mother’s blessing first.
When no one answered, he flung the door open, figuring it was unlocked as usual.
“Mom?” he called out. His eyes watered as the acrid scent of smoke filled his nostrils. Laura Rodriguez did always love her cigars. That’s why she always had him steal them from the drugstore down the street.
A feminine voice stirred from the mass of blankets on the couch.
“Chris…?” Laura slurred out, extricating herself from her slump. Chris felt Kronos’s mocking laughter in the depths of his mind. He knew that he came from nothing. He did. That’s why he was determined to make it right. He wanted to make sure no other demigods had to grow up the way he did.
He inhaled, standing up as straight as he could. “Mom,” he stated firmly, “I need your blessing.”
“Why? What’ve you ever done for me?” Laura sighed, her spine cracking as she raised her arms above her head to stretch.
Chris tried not to grind his teeth. Why wasn’t it enough that he was her son?
“Please? I just need this one thing from you. Then you’ll never have to see me again,” he responded, trying to keep his voice level. He cleared his throat before continuing, “Do it for me. For your only son. Your blessing is the last thing you’ll need to sever all ties from your old life completely.”
Laura hummed as she looked him over, hazel eyes distant with obvious dismissal. She and Hermes were certainly a match made in Tartarus. They only ever seemed to care about their children when they needed something from them.
Kronos seemed to agree, his consciousness brushing against Chris’s mind. Indeed, young Chris. That’s why the gods need to go. And why you need to lead your fellow demigods to a new era.
He felt Kronos’s power surge through him, his eyes glowing gold as the Titan filled his mind with just the right words he needed to win Laura over.
“You’ll be known as the mother of a hero,” he said, his words filled with honeyed promise, “And don’t you deserve that honor? To have a palace filled with riches beyond your wildest dreams? To live above the station decided for you by those stuffy old higher ups?”
That was what had drawn her to Hermes. She’d told Chris the story at least a dozen times: of how she met a handsome stranger while stealing from her boss’s till, and how he promised her the world up until she was pregnant with him. That had to have rankled at her, knowing she was so close to everything she'd ever dreamed of, only to be stopped by an unwanted child. But that was okay. Soon, he’d be out of her hair for good. And by the shifting expression on her face, she knew it.
“Well, if you say so…” she replied, voice full of false confidence. She stepped closer, as though ready to cup a hand over his cheek–
And then everything froze. It was like the world was moving in slow motion, Laura Rodriguez moving at less than a snail’s pace. Something was wrong, that much Chris could tell, drawing Backbiter and preparing to make a quick escape. Kronos snarled from the back of his mind, his only warning as hisses filled the air.
“You don’t need to do this,” said the Other Hermes, caduceus drawn between him and Kronos–
Who was now standing beside him, a Titan in his full glory rather than a disembodied voice. Chris felt his heart threaten to beat out of his chest. He was between a god and a monster, now.
“Oh, but he does,” Kronos purred, eyes blazing gold as he drew Chris closer to him. He could feel the ticking of a clock pulse through his chest. “This one has agreed to become my vessel and bring about the end of the Age of Gods. Isn’t that right, Christopher?”
Chris could only nod as he stared into the eyes of his Other father. With the god looking at him now, he felt something like guilt curdle in his chest.
“Only because you’ve manipulated him,” growled the Other Hermes, before he calmed himself, meeting Chris’s gaze, “It’s okay, Chris. You can still come home. You’ve made a mistake, but it’s not too late to fix it.”
“But it is.” Chris’s answer surprised himself. “I can’t back out now. I have to see this through.”
Boisterous laughter burst forth from Kronos’s chest, the weight of it resounding throughout the frozen space. Chris trembled in the Titan’s grasp while his dad took a step back, expression carefully blank.
“Indeed,” smirked the Titan Lord, his hands a burning presence on Chris’s shoulders, “But it’s amusing how you think you can change his fate. My Other self was clearly a wiser king than I, laying such a curse upon you and your kin.”
At his words, the air appeared to crack, fury twisting the Other Hermes’s face into something incomprehensible. Chris broke out in cold sweat, desperately wishing he was back at Camp, where he could hide beneath Luke’s bunk and pretend everything was alright. But he couldn’t. What he told the Other Hermes was true. He’d chosen this path, and it was too late to change his course. All that awaited him at the end was death.
But if his death would save someone, anyone, wouldn't it be worth it? To be remembered was all he ever asked for.
“Chris,” said the god, brilliant golden wings bursting forth from his back, "Your fate is your own, my son. No matter what anyone else says. Know that no matter what happens, I am always proud to call myself your father.”
With that, the dreamspace shattered, Laura Rodriguez standing where the Other Hermes should be.
“I, Laura Rodriguez, give you my blessing. Give ‘em hell, Chris.”
Her words felt like a noose around his throat.
Ethan sighed as he directed the dracanae to move their weapons shipment to the other side of the Princess Andromeda.
With Chris gone on a special mission from Kronos, it was up to him to lead the Titan Army. While most of their forces were monsters, there were a surprising number of demigods among them. The children of the minor gods, he expected. Like him, they wanted their parents to be acknowledged, and to live without fear of Olympian tyranny. But the number of Olympian demigods was far beyond what he had expected.
Chris. Kayla. Chelsea. The children of Hermes, Apollo, and Athena respectively. Communication, healing, and wisdom had deserted Camp Half-Blood out of fear of their parents, from both worlds.
The gods of this world treated their children like possessions, while the Other gods smothered them with their love. In Ethan's opinion, someone needed to keep them in line. Well, that was what he was here for.
Asteria, the Titaness of Prophetic Dreams, had delivered her vision of the future to the Titan King. A vision of a mortal woman, giving birth to a burning torch that would set Western Civilization ablaze.
Kronos had been delighted by the prophecy of his Persehesperos. His laughter had pressed down upon his assembled army, heavy like the Sword of Damocles despite lacking a physical body at the time.
Part of Ethan was unsettled. It was hard not to be, because what prey took comfort in kneeling before a predator? The other part of him, the part that ached with his missing eye, burned with vicious satisfaction. This was balance. This was retribution.
The Other Hades and the Other Thanatos had assured him of this. No matter what side won the war, the minor gods would not fade. No, they would survive, thrive even, for mortals always believed in little lies like Luck and Retribution, or respected the burbles of a rushing stream or the swaying boughs of trees. Even if mortals doubted the existence of more all-encompassing beings like Zeus or Hera, the non-Olympian members of the pantheon would continue to live on.
He now had the opportunity to bring about a fair, more balanced world. A world unbound by fate, where everyone could be the makers of their own destiny.
The part of him that came from Nemesis couldn't help but crow triumphantly. He used that vicious satisfaction to steel himself as he waved Kayla over.
“What's Sharon's progress on finding a route through the Labyrinth to Camp Half-Blood?”
Kayla didn't want to fight her siblings. Really, she didn't. When she signed up for the Titan Army, she thought she was going to be a part of a glorious revolution, not a slaughterhouse. But it was too late to back out now. She couldn't go back, not to those gods.
She absentmindedly scratched Dora's ears, taking a moment to distract herself from the relentless pounding of her heart. The Other Apollo had given her this wolf-pup in an attempt to apologize, and Kayla didn't have the heart to get rid of her, even as she refused to forgive him.
Lee had told her about the pack when she had first moved into the Apollo Cabin, tracing the symbol of the sun he said shone proudly across each of their foreheads. Dora seemed to be a member, a brilliant golden sun emblazoned on her forehead, visible even through her cream-colored fur.
“Dad will never, ever give up on you,” said her memory of Michael, her eyes blazing gold as she blinked the tears away. The Apollo that had claimed her had long since given up, having not shown up in her dreams for months now. Michael was right about a lot of things, she'd found, wrapping bandages around her bloodied hands just the way he taught her to. But was he right about the Other Apollo?
She was shaken out of her daydreaming by the war horn that resounded across the Labrynith. With a vicious cry, she ran into battle. She couldn't afford to hesitate. Not now.
Her arrows found their mark in the eye of a dryad, the nymph screaming in pain as the arrowhead caught fire. The charred tree she left behind disrupted the enemy's battle formation, roots and branches caging her allies in as easy pickings for Dora. The wolf was no longer a puppy, but a vicious predator, tearing apart her foes limb from limb. Kayla tried not to feel sick.
She rolled to the side as an allied cyclops flew through the air, having been flung by Miranda Gardner. The daughter of Demeter was held up by thick cords of kudzu like some kind of demented spider, tendrils violently thrashing about to displace her foes. The cyclops’ brethren lay gasping for breath beneath her vines before turning to golden dust.
They made eye contact, Miranda's verdant green eyes narrowing as she let out a violent hiss. Well, her squad was down. It was time to make a tactical retreat.
Kayla started heading back, towards the dracanae advancing towards the Athena Cabin's front line. She could use the monsters as a shield while she took shots at the defenders.
Dora snarled out a warning as Miranda's vines clamped down on her ankle, dragging her back towards the rampaging Demeter Cabin. Kayla dropped her bow, reaching for her Celestial Bronze dagger. Willing flames to trace its blade, she severed the vine holding her in place, Miranda shrieking in pain as Dora took a chunk out of her shoulder.
As she rolled to her feet, she let out a bird-like whistle. Chelsea flew out of the trees holding an enchanted thread, making sure it was wound around the nearby dryads before setting it ablaze with Greek fire. The defenders howled in agony as their flesh burned, the scent of charred meat filling her nostrils.
Kayla couldn't hold back this time. She vomited into the grass, chest heaving as tears ran down her cheeks. She didn't want to hurt anyone.
But she had to. That was the rule of war. She reached out blindly into the grass for her bow.
From behind her she heard alarmed shouting. Lee .
Her brother was racing towards the decimated archers, hands extended as though ready to heal them. He didn't see the giant behind him, raising its club to smack him down.
Kayla's hands shook as she fumbled with the bowstring. Just one shot, any shot–
Lee went down, his head caving under the impact. She screamed, the sound ricocheting across the forest. The giant staggered back, covering his ears in vain before exploding into dust. She didn't even notice as she ran to Lee, bow forgotten as she raced towards her brother–
Only to collapse to her knees as her chest exploded in agony. She could feel the sword exit her spinal cord, her body crumpling over Lee's as blood pooled around her torso.
She vaguely registered Chelsea and an unnamed demigod duelling each other as she passed into nothingness. She didn't want to die here, but it was so hard to hold on. Maybe she could rest for a little while…
Then, she felt warm hands cup her face as she took a painful breath in, the motion feeling like knives were being jammed into her lungs. A grasping, wet cough, tore out of her mouth, a mess of blood and phlegm blanketing the ground. She could feel her wound slowly, painfully, knitting back together, her heart thudding slowly in her chest.
I will never let my children die, a gentle voice resounded, a kiss like a sunbeam being pressed gently to her forehead. She braced her arms to the ground, barely managing to raise her face to meet Lee's startled blue eyes.
A shining lyre hung above her head, just like the day she had been claimed.
Silena willed her hands not to shake as she directed her Cabin to join the battle. Why did Lance have to leave for college? He was a much better leader than she could ever be.
When the gods had shown up to Camp Half-Blood after the discovery of the Other Pantheon, she hadn't thought much of it at first. Aphrodite was a flight, absent mother at the best of times. Surely nothing would happen when she came to check up on them, right?
Oh, how wrong she had been. Without any of them noticing, the goddess had entered the cabin and sat down. Then, she'd clapped her hands, leaving them all stunned at her unearthly beauty. Something unfathomably deep swirled in her eyes, like the depths she had been born from.
“My dear children,” she cooed, face artfully arranged into a concerned expression. Silena could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat.
“You would never leave me, right?”
Shimmering threads appeared in her hands as she began playing cat's cradle.
“I mean,” said Aphrodite, “Your families would be so sad to see you go.”
The threads went slack in her hands, before burning to ash.
“You need to stay here, where you'll be safe. Isn't that right, Silena?”
With an almost predatory grin, the goddess disappeared in a shower of rose petals.
Silena barely remembered what happened after that. Consumed by a haze of fear and desperation for her father, she reached out to Ethan and the Titan Army, readily agreeing to be their spy. At the time, she didn’t regret it. She thought the assurance of her family’s safety would be enough. Stupid Silena, always making the wrong choices.
Camp was being overrun, her siblings being torn to shreds by the monsters she had welcomed in. She could see Kampe bearing down on Percy and Annabeth in the distance, the Athena Cabin's line being shaken apart like ragdolls despite the storm Thalia had conjured to blow them away. She'd helped doom them all.
Gods, she was such a coward. Even now, staring in the face of Death, all she could think about was how much she wanted to run. Why couldn’t she be more heroic, more brave, like Luke and Charlie and even little Drew? If she died here and now, would it make up for what she’d done?
Bracing herself for certain doom, she hefted her shield, ready to head to the front lines. Then, a warhorn resounded. Silena could hear distant thunder as suddenly, the phalanx of dracanae she'd been engaging suddenly mowed down like blades of grass.
It was something straight out of legend. A magnificent golden chariot rumbled out of Thalia's doorway, pulled by spectral steeds that seemed to bleed shadow. Bianca di Angelo, helmed in darkness, gave an order that shook the earth.
“Rise.”
Skeletal soldiers from various eras arose from the ground, brandishing weapons against the Titan Army. With a bone-rattling cry, they met the monsters head on, bolstering Camp Half-Blood's forces.
Bianca steered the chariot towards Kampe, the warrior standing behind her screaming out a warcry, verdant green cape billowing behind her.
Katie Gardner (Deione Chrysaor came unbidden in her mind) raised her brilliant golden blade and commanded the earth itself to rise. Sunflowers, poppies, and other plants went wild, winding around Kampe's legs. She leapt from the chariot and swung, the monster rearing back with a wild shriek of pain. Where the blade struck, black blood erupted, before sprouting into jagged thorns and roots. Before long, Percy and Annabeth had rejoined the fray, helping Katie hack the monster apart.
Not to be outdone, Silena turned back to the battle. Where their line was once buckling, now they were pushing back the horde of assembled monsters. With renewed vigor, she raised her voice.
“We can't falter now! Press the advantage!” she bellowed, willing the Mist to thicken. She had almost no talent with it, but she had enough of a grasp to hide her blade. It was a small advantage, but if the enemy couldn't see where she was striking, it could be the difference between life and death.
Their war cry was answered from the west. Warriors in hoplite armor strode forward in a phalanx formation, ablaze with scarlet fire. The Ares Cabin had returned, and they were hungry for blood. Marching steadily forward, together they battered the Titan Army back. Monsters exploded into golden dust left and right as enemy satyrs and dryads fled in terror.
Silena felt her heart lighten. If this kept up, maybe they could trap them in a pincer formation…!
Only for her hopes to suddenly be dashed by the guttural ROAR that pierced her heart with dread .
A colossal boar rampaged onto the field, scattering her campers and the enemy alike. Its eyes were red with bloodlust, saliva frothing from its mouth as it set its sights on the Ares Cabin.
This had to be the wrath of Ares.
Silena swallowed. The boar was getting ready to charge at Clarisse, snarling as it tossed its head back, tusks gleaming wickedly in the dying firelight.
Silena ran with wild abandon. She didn't know what she was trying to accomplish, but she ran anyway. She couldn't let Clarisse die.
She tackled the girl out of the way, watching as she tumbled to the ground in confusion. The boar was upon them, now, ramming forward with all its strength. If this was the end, it was more heroic than she deserved. Any second now–
Only, it wasn't. Silena blinked her eyes open in confusion, taking in the pristine clearing. A dove-like coo brought her back to the present.
“My darling Silena,” sighed the Other Aphrodite, drawing her into her arms, “Don't you ever do that again.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she leaned into her mother's embrace.
“I can't promise you that,” she whispered back. “I'm afraid I'm a very selfish person. If it would keep my loved ones safe, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I know, dear heart,” the Other Aphrodite drew back, rising to her full godly height. “But if you continue on this path, your love will die.”
Her stomach dropped to her knees. Did she know?
The goddess gazed down sadly at her. “You have to make a choice now, αγάπη μου. Your past, or your future?”
Preserve Camp Half-Blood to save your siblings? Or raze Olympus to keep your loved ones safe?
They stood there for what felt like eternity, the burbles of the brook the only sound. Then, Silena raised her head.
“The past, Mother. I choose to preserve the bonds I've forged over the fears that haunt my future. That is my love.”
The Other Aphrodite looked mournful for a brief moment before kissing her brow.
“Then go with my blessing, my dear Aeneas. Though you will face many trials and tribulations, know that what you've nurtured in your heart will live on.”
A brilliant white light flashed, and she was back. The silver bracelet Ethan had given her crumbling to dust. She stood alone among the wreckage of the battlefield for some time, watching the flames smolder and die.
She was Castor's friend. That was the only reason he was doing this, Dionysus muttered to himself.
He drew out the madness like a mist, and let it flow into the dwindling font of power within himself. As he stood there, gasping for breath, he couldn't help but feel frustrated. Such a thing should not have taken such effort.
Still, as that Renee girl sobbed into her sister's chest, Dionysus couldn't help the kernel of warmth that sprouted in his cold, shriveled heart. At least one pair of twins would be reunited today.
Careful not to show any weakness, Dionysus tread to the Big House. Pollux was there, weaving a shroud for a brother that would never come home.
He felt an unfathomable rage well within him, as well as something he hadn't felt since his demigod days: complete and utter terror.
Confined on Olympus as he was, he was helpless to watch the battle unfold. Much to his horror, it seemed that those Other Gods were not on Kronos's side at all. They had bolstered Camp Half-Blood's admittedly meager forces, that False Huntress wielding shafts of silver to shoot down their foes. Even more unsettling were the demigod reinforcements. They could scarcely even be called demigods anymore; Demeter's daughter and Hades's forbidden spawn were scarily close to godhood as it was. But if they weren’t with the Titans then what was their end goal? Apollo and Aphrodite had gotten into a screaming match over it, their children all but forgotten as the gods raged over each other.
And then Ares just had to muddle things further. What was he thinking, sending that boar in while the battle was still raging? So many had died due to his temper tantrum, forcing Grover to tap into Pan's power. Dionysus could only hope that Hera bent him over the knee for that stunt. Chaos knew they could not afford to have anymore problems right now.
The amount of demigods that had perished on both sides was maddening. Such casualties had not been seen since the Civil War, when they clashed with those wretched Romans. Castor was among the dead. His heart clenched.
If only he could be certain that his son was resting in Elysium where he deserved. Chills ran down his spine as he recalled that black-winged Death that had swooped down upon the battlefield, stealing away the deceased demigods’ souls. At first, Olympus had thought Hades just sent his enforcers in early. But as the Underworld refused to answer, dread settled over the Council. The Other Thanatos had taken their children to somewhere they could not follow.
Damn Zeus and his paranoia. After demanding that they all monitor their children 24/7, he decided that they were meddling too much with mortal affairs. Granted, it was more likely he was grouchy about losing some of his mortal influence due to the demigods’ waning faith, but it wasn’t like he could say that to his face and live. So of course, now he and the Other Olympians were restricted to Olympus, where Zeus could micromanage all of them to his heart’s content. That was madness in and of itself, but of course, darling Athena went with whatever father dearest said. And now they were all paying for it! He owed Apollo a favor for taking the heat off him temporarily.
He came to Pollux's room and worked up the courage to knock on the door. When it opened with an unsteady creak, he met the red-rimmed eyes of his only living son.
“Hey,” he said softly. Pollux looked up, violet eyes damp with unshed tears. Dionysus threw his arms around him, and the two of them sunk to the floor in a haze of grief.
“He’s gone.” Pollux’s voice was flat as he spoke. He was too tired for any other emotion.
“He is,” he replied. “But you’re still here.”
He pressed his son in closer, drinking in the sound of his heartbeat.
“Why am I still here?” Pollux cried, burying his face into his shoulder. Dionysus felt his heart break a little more at the sound. Grief never got any easier, no matter how many centuries passed.
“Fate is cruel, my son.”
Didn’t Dionysus know it? The twins’ mother was a gentle woman, one whom Ariadne had demanded he court to give her the children she’d always wanted. It was a match made in heaven. At least, it started that way. The best people had the most rotten luck. A regular from the bar she worked at had murdered her when the twins were only babies.
When he held their sons in his arms for the first time, he knew they were similarly doomed. Castor and Pollux, the doomed Dioscuri, one fated to go where the other could not follow. And in this age of waning faith, there was no way for Dionysus to intervene on his children’s behalf.
“But no matter what, we have to do our best to live.”
Pollux raised his head to meet Dionysus’s eyes. He seemed to be searching for something in his face.
“No matter what, my son, promise me this. Promise me that you’ll live on, no matter what trials Fate may throw at you.”
A languid smile stretched across Zeus’s face as he watched young Castor collapse into Dionysus’s arms. The demigod was finally where he belonged, alongside the other children. Renee and Sharon, Iris’s fleet-footed daughters, were safe in their mother’s embrace. His queen was speaking to them in soft tones about their plans for the future, for the grand journey of deliverance they were weaving for the demigods who had suffered under the reign of their so-called gods.
Demeter came to his side, hissing softly in his ear with a satisfied grin.
“Your plans are coming along beautifully, brother,” she whispered, hungrily watching the various familial scenes play out in the throne room. There was Hermes in the corner, cooing over his brood, assuring them that Death would not touch them. Thanatos gave a light-hearted chuckle at his words, tucking a sleeping Clovis under his wings.
“Indeed,” he chuckled back, “Our lost children are finally coming home. And soon, those false gods will no longer be around to threaten them.”
“How is our Athena doing, brother? I know she has taken the place of her lesser counterpart, but still, I worry for her,” said Demeter.
“Do you still wish to join her, dear sister? I know you were disappointed when that two-faced wretch fled before you could devour her fully,” Zeus said. Demeter had savored the look of agony upon her counterpart’s face when she had been reduced to a mere shade, able to look upon her precious Katie but unable to make her presence known. If not for Deilakrion’s quick-thinking, Demeter would have consumed her essence whole, taking her domains for herself.
At least that thief was useful for something. His presence was all the confirmation they needed that gods could cross over through the doorways as well, a fact his beloved Athena and Hermes exploited beautifully.
Demeter leaned her head against his shoulder. “It would be irresponsible of me to,” she sighed, “It might jeopardize Athena’s position. The Tyrant would not take kindly to finding two imposters in his court.”
Zeus snorted, “There was a profound lack of wisdom in that court even before Ergatis was taken. I find it difficult to believe that he would heed my daughter’s words if she dared to contradict him.”
He took a moment to mourn the alternate version of his daughter. Her death was such a shame. She deserved better than to live and die alone. A family could not thrive without its members standing by each other. Still, her death was necessary.
He toyed with the lightning bolt sparking in his hands. The reign of those false gods could not continue. He would sooner topple his own throne before letting them continue to terrorize the very beings they were sworn to protect.
No, he needed to purge that world of their wicked existence. To wipe the slate anew so that the righteous could walk the earth once more.
So that their children could walk their own paths without being burned to ashes.
Percy tried not to gag as he stepped over something he did not want to take a closer look at. Nico ran ahead, laughing at his disgusted expression. Well, he was glad someone was having fun, because he certainly wasn’t.
“Are you sure it’s safe for me to be here?” he said, wincing at how his voice echoed across the empty cavern. Sons of the sea were not meant to be this far underground.
Bianca smiled gently in response. “Yes, Percy. It’s fine. As long as we’re here, nothing will dare to hurt you.”
Yeah, right. Somewhere out there, the Fates were laughing at him. No matter what, they always relished in making Percy Jackson suffer.
“But won’t your Dad be offended?” he said instead, not wanting to get on Bianca’s bad side.
“Nope!” Nico replied sunnily. “Dad always says to treat guests well.”
“I don’t think he means our dad dad, Nico. I think he’s talking about the Hades of this world,” replied Bianca, shaking her head slowly. She turned to Percy with a predatory grin.
“You don’t have to worry about him either. He’s a bit too busy playing tug-of-war with his domains to bother us now,” she brayed out a vicious laugh, “In fact, I believe his existence will fade soon enough. Dad’s the stronger god by far.”
Her smile was far too wide to be human. Percy decided not to think about it too hard.
“Well, if that’s the case, then how are we here right now? Isn’t this literally the House of Hades? Shouldn’t it be, I dunno, falling to pieces if its ruler is out of commission?” he asked.
“Ordinarily, yes,” hummed Bianca, “But right now, our stepmother is barely managing to hold it together. Persephone’s reign as Queen of the Underworld holds far more weight than Hades’s reign as King.”
She seemed frustrated by this revelation, as though she disliked the outcome despite how much it benefitted her. Nico sensed his sister’s darkening mood and rushed to whisper something in her ears. Despite his best efforts not to eavesdrop, for better or worse, his hearing had gotten a lot better these days.
“It’s okay, sis! She’ll have to accept our reign as the Ghost King and Queen, some day, right?” he murmured, a giddy expression on his face.
Bianca’s brows furrowed in contemplation.
“I suppose,” she answered, pace slowing as they approached the river bank, “But in the end, it all comes down to whose story resonates more.”
The siblings came to a stop before an unending torrent of hatred. Percy could hear voices screaming from the water, specters of broken promises and failed oaths doing their best to claw their way out of the water. He took a step back, noting how both Bianca and Nico had turned to stare at him with unblinking obsidian eyes.
“So now, you must choose, Perseus Jackson. Life or death, legacy or oblivion: which shall emerge victorious from the jaws of a foretold ending?”
Percy swallowed. That was the whole reason he was here, wasn’t it?
His birth father had shown up after the Battle of the Labyrinth, pleading with him to give the gods another chance. He told him of the prophecy, how he was fated to die at sixteen, the choice to save or destroy Olympus in his hands.
He didn’t want to die. He realized that now. He wanted to live, to enjoy the life he’d fought his way out of hell for. He just didn’t want any of his friends to die for it.
He’d gone to his parents, and they told him that they’d support him no matter what he chose. A blessing from Paul and Amphitrite, for the strength to persevere and the will to continue loving others, no matter the cost. And a blessing from Sally and Poseidon, for the righteous fury to strike down his foes and the unrelenting dedication to his goals. They well and truly loved him. How could he turn his back on that? How could he run away and leave them, leave his family, to fight a war they had no chance of winning on their own?
It didn’t matter what the gods thought. He’d rather die a hero than let the people he cared about be taken by Fate. He didn’t care if it’d damn him to Tartarus a thousand times over. His loyalty was his fatal flaw. Who said it couldn’t be a Titan’s as well?
He nodded to Nico and Bianca. The two of them stepped aside, the Masters of the House of Hades bowing in respect as he waded into the Styx.
Sally Jackson. Paul Blofis. Poseidon. Amphitrite. Triton. Pallas. Annabeth Chase. Luke Castellan. Thalia Grace. Tyson. Clarisse La Rue. Travis Stoll. Connor Stoll. All these names and more, he’d carve into his heart.
For them, he would take on the Curse of Achilles.
Luke gazed bitterly at the almost empty moon reflected in the wake. The words of the Great Prophecy rang mockingly in his ears, a reminder of the penultimate battle that awaited him.
A single choice shall end his days / Olympus to preserve or raze.
What choice did he want to make in the end?