Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This was an old dream. He’d had it many times before. 

Jerry, standing before the Roman Senate. 

Mars, waving his hand. A lyre, appearing on Jerry’s arm. 

Jerry’s prophecy: “Crowns will fall to ash.” 

Jupiter, standing between the new augur and a towering statue of himself. 

Apollo, standing between his father and his son. 

Olympus, Apollo on his knees, trembling, electricity jumping over his arms.

A stranger’s face, dark and stony. He says something, but the words are quiet. 

The doors of the Palace of the Sun. Chained shut. 

Years of silence from his father. Nothing but this dream. Over and over again. 

Will’s eyes opened to the darkness of Cabin 7. The first streams of daylight were peeking through the curtains, illuminating the sleeping bodies of his siblings: Kayla, Austin, Gracie, Yan. Only five, not counting Jerry at New Rome. There used to be so many of us , he thought miserably as he flipped to his other side and closed his eyes again. Sleep didn’t come. 

Will heard Gracie shuffling in her bed as Will did his best to dress in silence. He looked up from tying his shoes to see his sister gazing at him through the darkness from under a blonde bedhead. “You too?” he whispered. 

Gracie nodded. Will waited by the door as she climbed from her bunk and got dressed in equal silence. They stepped outside, the winter sun rising to reflect over the frozen lake. I wonder if this is the best we’ll get from now on , Will thought as the sunlight momentarily blinded him, but immediately felt guilty. He knew, really knew, that if his dad had any choice, Apollo wouldn’t have gone radio silent after only a year of his return to godhood. Two and a half years ago. 

Gracie’s breath fogged the air in front of them as they trudged to the Big House. “I saw my mom’s headstone, this time. Right in between the stranger and the doors.” 

Will didn’t say anything until they climbed up the stairs to the porch of the house. “I’m sorry I couldn't come to the funeral,” was all he said as he followed Gracie inside. 

She shrugged. “Don’t be. You had finals.” Silence fell for a moment as they made their way to the infirmary. “How were they?”

Will snorted. “Missed my history final. Because my physiology exam was interrupted by a hellhound. Can’t wait to get those grades back… You know,” he shrugged as he plucked a stray gauze bandage off the floor from a particularly hectic game of Capture the Flag last night. “Just demigod stuff.” 

Gracie’s smile seemed too forced. “Tell me about it. I had to leave my grandpa’s place earlier than I thought after a very strange conversation with a wind spirit.” 

She wouldn’t meet Will’s gaze as he looked over. “How are you?” he asked, as gently as he could. 

She sat on the nearest cot with a soft fwoomp, fiddling with a spare stethoscope. “It’s just…” Her shoulders rose so high they almost touched her ears. “Hard.” A sound escaped her, a mix of a sob and a laugh, like it had been punched out. She raised her eyes to the ceiling of the infirmary and Will saw tears brimming there. “And it’s so stupid, because now all I can think about is that I won’t have either of my parents a-at… anything. Because just for a second,” she said, bowing her head again as bitterness flooded her voice, “I thought both of them could be there. Like everybody else.” 

Will crossed over to sit next to Gracie and placed a hand on his sister’s back. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. “Occupational hazard,” she mumbled into her hands before sniffing again and peeking at Will from over her fingers. “But I bet we’re the only half-bloods who miss our godly parent.” 

Will offered her a small smile. “Probably.” He stood up again and tossed the bandage into the trash. For a while, Gracie helped him clean the infirmary, mopping the floors and changing sheets. He caught hints of one of the new songs she was writing, carried around the room in her alto voice. He idly thought of their father, who Will could easily remember humming random tunes in the year he had been close, just a prayer away. 

When the bell rang for breakfast, they went over and saw the pavilion was unusually crowded for this time of year, so much so that Will had to skirt around it to reach the Apollo table, instead of cutting through like he normally would in the middle of December. Chiron must have been having the same thoughts, and Will saw his face twisting with something deeper than concern as he surveyed the amassed campers. Sure, mostly everybody was out of school at the moment for the holidays, but past years had never seen this big of an influx of campers. 

Will wondered, and it was only a matter of time before someone else said it out loud, if this had something to do with the increase of monster attacks in the past few months. The demigods had enjoyed relative quiet in the past three years (which had, if anything, made his dad’s absence more prominent), but it felt like the world around them seemed to have a problem with the silence. Will suspected that many campers had fled to the safety of the camp enchantments as their last ditch efforts to stay alive.

The same went for Will - he had already been planning to be at camp over the break to be with Nico, who had stayed at camp while Will went off to college (long-distance was working fine for them, thankyouverymuch Kayla), but he had to admit that not being attacked by a monster every other day was making him reconsider going back to school. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about making this move permanent, and dropping out to stay at camp full-time again, but he knew Nico would fight him on that, tooth and nail. 

Speak of the devil…

“Hey,” Nico mumbled through a yawn as he sat down next to him and accepted Will’s daily good morning cheek kiss. “You weren’t in your cabin?”

“Infirmary,” Will said as shook his head and he rose again to scrape part of his breakfast off his plate into the fire. Come back soon, Dad , was all he sent up with his offering, the same prayer as every other day for the last couple of years. 

Nico eyed him as they sat down again, clearly taking note of the silence at the table. Austin, Yan, and Kayla picked at their food as well, still half-asleep. “The dream, again?” 

“As always,” Yan muttered. 

After breakfast, Will fell into his usual routine: Inspection, restocking the infirmary and trying not to get his head caved in by low-flying pegasi. After lunch: watch Nico train the younger campers in sword skills, and pull an unfortunate amount of splinters out of Rosamie’s foot while Malcom Pace watched, wincing. Yan backed out and let Will take medic duty, saying “I deal with this all year, it’s your turn.” 

“Why were you barefoot? It’s the middle of winter,” he asked as he lowered his sharpest tweezers to the skin. 

“Technically, winter doesn’t start for two more days,” Rosamie grumbled. 

Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course an Athena kid would walk barefoot on the docks and then nitpick his word choice regarding the specific time of year. “Doesn’t explain why you weren’t wearing shoes.” 

A satyr stumbled into the infirmary just as Will sent Rosamie and Malcom off, accompanied by none other than Chiron and Grover Underwood. The satyr had a bloody gash over his eyebrow, and was leaning heavily on Grover. 

“This is Mike,” Grover said in a way of greeting him as he guided the satyr over to the nearest cot. 

“What happened?” Will said as he hurried over and leaned over the satyr, who’s eyes had slipped closed as soon as he had laid down. “Hey, it’s not sleepy time.” 

Grover stepped in to explain. “He and the demigod he was with have been being attacked since they left Maine. I don’t think either of them have slept.”

“This isn’t too deep, you should be okay,” Will said as he examined the cut, making sure Mike’s eyes stayed open. “Where’s the demigod?”

“Here,” Chiron said, guiding forward a little girl. She was pretty small, no more than five years old, with short brown hair poking out in pigtails from underneath a green bucket hat, buried in a pink sherpa coat, with her arms wrapped around an orange backpack.

Will handed Mike a cup of water before he knelt down in front of the girl. “Hi, I’m Will. What’s your name?” 

She whispered something, but Will didn’t hear. 

“Margo Hernandez,” Mike said from behind him, sitting up. “Maggie.” 

“Are you hurt, Maggie?” Will asked, as gently as he could. She shook her head, the hat threatening to fall off. Will could only watch as Maggie silently walked over to the nearest empty cot, laid down, and promptly fell asleep. 

Chiron sighed. “I will have Paolo assist when she wakes.” He and Grover simultaneously turned to Mike. “Tell us everything.”

“Well, I was tipped off that there was a demigod in the area, in northern Maine,” Mike started.

“By whom?” Chiron asked sharply.

Mike shrugged, then winced. Will stepped closer to examine the bruises along his shoulders. “It was anonymous,” Mike continued as Will worked. “I heard from a dryad, and she didn’t know either. But I could smell monsters everywhere, so that’s how I found her.” Mike shook his head, and glanced over at Maggie. “When I got to the apartment, the monsters had found her and her family already. Her parents were both dead, and she was hiding in the closet.” 

“Parents?” Will asked before he could stop himself. “Like, plural?”

“One was probably a stepparent, but not knowing which one makes it difficult to determine who her godly parent could be,” Chiron offered. “Hopefully, whoever it is will claim her soon, rather than wait for her thirteenth birthday. She’ll have to be a full-time camper, and I would rather she be with her siblings.” 

Will nodded slowly as Chiron continued. “What concerns me most is her age. She is much too young to be noticeable to monsters, so how did they find her?”

Grover’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think she was being targeted? Who would target a five-year-old?”

Chiron’s hoof clopped loudly on the floor. “I believe the identity of her godly parent will illuminate the situation. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go fetch Paolo.” 

Grover tottered for a moment as well, before he spoke loud enough that the retreating Chiron would still hear him. “Well, what if she was born after the Oath of the Big Three was rescinded? That would explain a lot, and she’s in the right age group.” 

Chiron turned around again, and gazed at Maggie for a moment. “I’m not sure. And there is also the question of who tipped Mike off.” He eyed Will. “Still no news of Apollo?”

Will shook his head, trying to tamp down his rising feelings of bitterness. “Nothing but the dream.” Chiron’s look pierced him, so much so that Will felt like Chiron was reading his mind. The look didn’t stop, so Will stumbled through his next words. “It’s nothing, but I just… I mean, it’s been two a half years. If he could get a message to a dryad, you’d think we would have heard more from him than just one repeating dream.” 

Chiron hummed as he turned to leave again. “I think you’re right.” 

Grover placed a hand on Will’s shoulder before he followed. “Hang in there.” 

“Thanks,” Will mumbled. 

As promised, Paolo showed up a little while later and guided a yawning Maggie out onto the grounds for a tour. Will couldn’t help but laugh as she waved at him over her shoulder. “Bye, Willy!” 

People huddled for warmth in the pavilion during and after dinner, and Nico needed no excuse to pull a spare blanket over Will and himself as the campfire was lit. Gracie pulled out a guitar and started singing ‘Ouranous the hellhound’, in which the hellhound went to the vet to be neutered. Nico snickered from beside him as they watched the other younger campers’ faces frozen in varying looks of confusion and disgust. 

He watched Maggie from across the fire, sitting with Connor Stoll and Paolo, giggling like there was no tomorrow. Will was glad to see it, although he also hoped she didn’t understand the joke of the song. 

The sun had set hours ago at this point, and it was nearing ten o’clock by the time the songs ended and the remaining s’mores ingredients had been squirreled away by the Hermes cabin. The younger campers were yawning, wide-mouthed as their counselors started to whisk everybody off to bed. 

But before anyone could truly make their way back to their cabins, a terrible, monstrous shriek rent the air, echoing across the lake and making everybody jump. Peleus, up on the hill, lifted his head and lowed in return. The demigods all rose to their feet, some picking up weapons that had been carelessly thrown to the ground. Beside Will, Nico placed his hand on his sword, clearly not wanting to draw it and risk hurting anyone in the crowd. Dionysus, lounging on the deck of the Big House, stood and, staring into the sky, slowly walked towards the campfire, while Chiron’s hand drifted to his quiver. 

“Die immortales!” someone said from behind Will, but he couldn’t figure out why everyone was gasping - he couldn't see anything. 

“Will!” Austin roughly pushed his shoulder. “Look!”

Will turned around and saw. Illuminating the crowd with a golden light was a symbol, floating in the air above Maggie’s head. She stared up at it, the glow illuminated in her eyes, the shape instantly recognizable: a lyre. 

“No way,” Will muttered, but he couldn’t find anything else to say before the shriek sounded again, this time followed by a louder, more terrible screech. It was definitely coming closer, and campers started spreading out from around the fire, giving themselves space to draw weapons. Will threw off the blanket from around his shoulders to run around the fire, grabbing Maggie and pulling her onto his hip while Connor pulled out his knife. 

Maggie began to protest, but Will quickly hushed her as Nico appeared on his other side, his sword drawn. “Let’s get her up to the Big House,” was all he said. 

All the campers were silent, waiting for the next sound, trying to gauge where it was coming from, and the shriek sounded yet again: “FREAAAAAAAAAAAK!”

Chapter Text

Will didn’t dare look up to see the source of the screeching as he reached the relative safety of the Big House. He was out of breath and his lungs were burning from the cold night air as he ran up the hill with Maggie clinging to him. He set her down once they reached the porch, Nico wrenched open the door and ushered them inside. 

Maggie, to her credit, was silent, although quizzically made her way next to Nico at the window to observe while Will caught his breath. Once Will joined them, he saw the monster had seemingly been blocked by the enchantments of the camp boundaries, and was circling hundreds of feet above the camp, flapping and screeching, illuminated by the light of the moon. Even despite the distance from them, it still looked huge. The darkness of night made it hard for Will to see anything else, but he could distinctly see another shape that almost looked like a boat, rocketing through the air beneath the monster, pulled by a creature with wings like a hummingbird. Neither the boat nor the monster had made it past the enchantments yet.

Will grabbed Nico’s wrist before Nico could make to go back outside. “Wait,” he said, watching the ensuing fight above them. “It hasn’t made it past the enchantments.”

Nico’s brow furrowed, like this wasn’t a good excuse, but as they watched, a giant glowing fist appeared and hit the body of the snake, where it twisted violently and made a valiant snap towards the boat. Just as the head of the snake approached it, one of the smaller figures that Will could only assume was a person, reached up and the snake dissolved into ash at the touch. Nico gasped as it happened, but from his perspective, Will couldn’t see why.

In the resulting explosion of dust, the flying creature that was pulling the boat lost control and hurtled down towards the canoe lake. It landed with a fwoomp they could hear from the Big House, along with the rising chatter from the campers that had remained at the campfire. 

“Where did the big snake go?” Maggie blurted out, looking up into the sky where it had disappeared. 

“The people on the boat killed it,” Will said, his own eyes trained on the figures that were climbing, sopping and shivering, from the canoe lake. 

“With death magic,” Nico said, his voice so quiet it wasn’t much more than a whisper. 

“What?”

“The way that snake just… dissolved.” Nico’s brow was furrowed as Will looked over at him. “Only someone like my father could do that.” 

Will slowly took Nico’s hand as they watched the newcomers through the window. In the light of the campfire, they could see four figures, all dripping wet and holding up their hands in placation. They could only hear vague murmurs through the glass of the window before Chiron’s booming voice carried over to them. 

“Off to bed! All of you!” Chiron waved off any questions, but hadn’t yet let go of his bow. “Tomorrow, Connor.” They watched as Chiron approached the newcomers, and gestured towards himself, Mr. D, then to the Big House. Will pulled Maggie away from the window to avoid being seen from the window.

“I’m staying to hear this,” Nico said as he looked around the living room for an appropriate hiding place. “I need to know who cast that magic.” He eyed Will. 

“I’ll stay,” Will nodded, and looked down at Maggie. “Can you keep a secret? We’re going to hide, but you can’t tell anyone, or say anything, ok?” Maggie’s eyes lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically. 

Nico let Will and Maggie over to the next room, and they all crowded together in a nook behind a bookshelf. Will crouched next to Maggie and Nico positioned himself closest to the door.

“You know, Dionysus will know we’re here,” Will pointed out as Nico made sure they were all properly obscured. 

“Who says he’ll do anything about it?” Nico replied, eyebrows raised in a challenge me type of way. 

That shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, Will thought as he shook his head in fond exasperation. He looked down as Maggie tugged on his sleeve. “What’s up?”

“What was that glowing thing?” she asked, waving a hand above her head, where the lyre had glowed less than five minutes ago. 

Will grinned. “Did Paolo and Connor tell you that you might get claimed tonight? By your godly parent?” Maggie nodded. “Well, that was it. That was a lyre, which means your godly parent is Apollo.” 

“Apollo,” she repeated slowly. 

“Uh-huh. You know, Apollo is my godly parent, too.” Will fixed her hat where it had slipped backwards. “That means I’m your brother.” 

Maggie gasped in a way perfectly befitting the excitement of a five-year-old, squealing so delightedly that Will had to cover her mouth with his hand, shushing her with barely contained laughter. “Cool!” she whisper-shouted once he had removed his hand. 

Nico smirked down at them, mouthing ‘cute’ as Will grinned up at him. 

“Gotta be quiet,” he whispered as he heard approaching footsteps and voices coming from outside. “Ok?” She nodded, eyes gleaming. Will idly wondered how Apollo had managed to claim her, if he was still who-knows-where (the Sun Palace, if he had to guess), until he remembered how Yan, Gracie, and Jerry had all been claimed while Apollo had been mortal. Once again, it had him wondering if Apollo just had an automatic claiming enchantment on the camp, or whatever, but his thoughts were interrupted as the door opened, and the conversation floated over to them. 

“That’s the Athena Parthenos over there. She strengthens the camp boundaries and repels enemies,” Chiron said. 

A girl’s voice replied in what Will thought might be a slight British accent. “No, Carter, don’t say it, I know this one. Athena is the goddess of knowledge and battle strategy, and her Roman form is Minerva. Like McGonagall.” 

“Wisdom, not knowledge,” said a new male voice, American this time. Will assumed this was the aforementioned Carter. “I don’t remember who the god of knowledge is, though,” 

He heard Mr. D. speak next. “That would be Apollo, but he has so many domains I can’t blame you for forgetting that one. He seems to forget it, too.” 

Will felt a flicker of pride at the mention of his father, and he nodded at Maggie as she tugged at his sleeve again, eyes wide as she heard it, too. 

The same girl from before started listing said domains, but trailed off after about three, and Carter had to finish the list for her. “Oh, that is a lot.” 

“So, children,” Chiron said, and Will heard the sounds of people sitting on couches. “Tell me, why have you come?”

The same guy, Carter, started talking, and Will could tell he was upset: his voice was shaking slightly, and there was the sound of shivering cloth, like a leg jumping up and down. “Nomes are being attacked daily, Brooklyn House fell just today. We relocated our initiates, but the House of Life is barely hanging on, as it is. Our own gods are absent, and the Chief Lector agrees. We need help.” 

A deep male voice spoke this time. “That monster chased us here all the way from Brooklyn. It wasn’t any that either I or Anubis recognized.” 

Will exchanged a glance with Nico, who just shrugged, the name meaning nothing to either of them. 

“I can’t say the Olympian council will be very happy if you start collecting demigods for your cause, Pharaoh, or not” Chiron said haltingly, and Will could tell he was saying it mostly for Dionysus’ benefit, who hummed noncommittally. 

‘Pharaoh?’ Will mouthed up at Nico who shook his head in equal confusion. 

A new voice spoke up; another girl, from what Will could hear. “What if we were to gain approval from the council itself? Seek an audience?”

Chiron and Dionysus were silent, and Will could tell they were both trying to figure out a kinder way to say the same thing: good luck with that. Will knew it was a high hope to get the council to agree on anything, much less help a group of strangers in… whatever it was they were trying to do. 

Dionysus clicked his tongue, and Will heard leather squeaking as the body in the chair shifted. “You can try, but you would be unsuccessful. Probably.” 

“But,” the British girl started, but was cut off, probably by some silent cue from Dionysus. 

“Try, by all means,” he said, in a voice that clearly suggested they do the opposite. 

Will heard Chiron sigh heavily after a beat. “The winter solstice is in two days. That would be your best bet.” 

The newcomers were quiet, and Will caught nothing more than murmurs as they discussed. Will was waiting to hear their decision until he jumped at Dionysus’ raised voice: “Heard enough yet, boys?”

Nico cursed. Grudgingly, Will stood up with Maggie, who giggled a bit at the prospect of being caught, apparently still under the impression that this was all a game. He followed Nico into the living room and saw the newcomers' faces in the light: as he had heard, it was two girls and two boys, all in their late teens, like him, all wearing what looked like linen pajamas. 

The shorter of the boys, who Will thought might be the one named Carter, stammered as they appeared. He was relatively attractive, with dark skin, hair, and eyes, and held himself well, like someone who was used to being underestimated. The other boy, standing behind him, was tall with an athletic build, also with dark skin, and wearing a leather jacket and a golden amulet that curiously matched one worn on the girl sitting on Carter’s right. 

As Will looked at her, he saw the immediate similarities in the shapes of their faces, even if their features were vastly different, what with her dirty blonde hair streaked with faded red dye. Vaguely wondering if they were siblings, he looked at the last girl, sitting on Carter’s other side, with dark features and shoulder-length brown hair. Her eyes were lined with a heavy pigment, smudged out in a way that made her gaze more piercing. 

Slowly and hesitantly, Will met Chiron’s gaze. The centaur’s eyebrows were high, in a way that Will had been reading for the last ten years: ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’. 

“Bed.” 

“Okay.” Will grabbed Nico’s wrist and Maggie’s hand and pulled them both towards the door. 

“Wait!” Nico said, and tried to pull his wrist out of Will’s grasp. He was unsuccessful. “Who cast the death magic?”

“In the morning, Nico,” Chiron called back at them as Will pulled Nico and Maggie out the front door and into the cold night. 

Chapter Text

“They’re not Greek, or Roman,” was the first thing out of Nico’s mouth as soon as they were out earshot from the Big House. Maggie trudged along beside them, yawning now that the exciting part of the night was over. 

“But Chiron and Mr. D already know them, or who they are. It’s probably a different pantheon,” Will said. “I mean… Pharaoh. That makes me think of Egypt.” 

“Yeah, but,” he snorted. “ Gnomes ? Chief Lector, Brooklyn House, initiates, so on and so forth,” Nico grumbled, taking out his stubby ponytail and raking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like this. And their ‘gods are absent’? What does that even mean? How can gods be absent?”

Will’s stomach twisted. It must have shown on his face, because Nico took his hand. “Sorry.”

Will shook his head. “‘S okay. It’s probably different, anyways. My dad is one god. They made it sound like it was their entire pantheon.” 

Nico shrugged and watched as Will heaved Maggie up into his arms, her mouth stretched wide in yet another yawn. “Honestly, that didn’t sound like their biggest concern.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know. But it’s serious enough for Chiron to send them to Olympus.” Will sighed. “If only we were still allowed to go up on the winter solstice.” 

Nico eyed him. “What do you mean? We could just… go up?”

Will winced. “Yeah, it used to be an annual field trip, but it’s been so long. The last time was almost nine years ago, I think. That was my first time, but it was the same day Luke stole the Master Bolt, so I don’t think they wanted us back. Haven’t since.” He trailed off, remembering being a wide-eyed kid led through the glittering streets by Michael and Lee. With another pang, he realized that that had been the first time he had seen his dad in the flesh, outside of a dream. Rather than linger on thoughts of dead siblings and missing fathers, he pointed out constellations to Maggie, perpetually aware of Nico’s eyes still remaining on his face. 

Their conversation lulled as they reached Cabin 7, and Maggie had started drooping onto Will’s shoulder. Her eyes blinked open blearily to the sound and light of the cabin as Will opened the door for her. “This is our cabin,” he explained. “Where we sleep with all our other siblings.” 

He stepped through the door to see… not a sibling.

“Shane, what are you doing?”

Shane must have jumped five feet in the air. Gracie laughed loudly from beside him at her desk, and Austin, on her other side, grinned back at Will. 

“Uh, I was just… um…”

“Come look, Will!” Gracie beckoned him over. “Oh, hello!” she said to Maggie, who blinked around, surveying the cabin. Maggie waved. 

“Guys, this is Maggie,” Will said. “Here, do you want top bunk or bottom bunk?” There were so many extra beds these days that Maggie had her pick of the bunch. 

“You just missed Connor and Paolo,” Kayla said from her own bed, where she was fletching some new arrows. “They dropped her stuff off.” 

Maggie picked a bottom bunk right next to Will’s (at her insistence), and Will helped her find a pair of pajamas while introducing her to everyone. “So, that’s Austin and Gracie over there, ignore Shane, he’s one of Hephaestus’ kids. Over there is Kayla, and that’s Yan. And there’s another camp, all the way across the country. We’ve got a brother named Jerry who lives there.”

“Don’t forget Victoria!” Yan called over the quickly muffled music from the desk where Austin, Gracie, and Shane all sat. 

“Oh, yeah. Victoria is all grown up, she lives in Washington with her husband. She just had another baby, so that makes you an aunt already!” Will saw Maggie counting on her fingers. “That makes seven siblings,” he supplied. 

“Like Cabin 7!” she said, clearly delighted. The other members in the cabin chuckled at her enthusiasm. Even Nico smirked from where he lingered by the door.

“Yep,” Will smiled. He leaned over to the windowsill and grabbed a framed photo. “Wanna see a picture of Dad?”

He pulled the back of the frame out and presented Maggie with the photo. It had been taken at the beading ceremony at the end of the summer after Apollo had regained his place on Olympus. In it, six of them were grinning at the camera, holding up their newest beads: the same vivid green as Rachel’s Oracle smoke, all with an intricate golden lyre painted on it. He pointed at the oldest person in the picture, with waves of blond and his face frozen in a laugh full of mirth. “That’s Dad, right there.” 

He left her with the picture and stood beside Austin at Gracie’s desk. Shane was showing her a couple buttons on what almost looked like a regular mortal computer connected to a set of headphones that Gracie had haphazardly perched on her head. “What’s this?” he asked. 

Austin grinned over at him. “Audio mixing,” he said, like it was the eighth wonder of the world.

“Doesn’t it attract monsters?”

“Well, it would,” Gracie said, removing the headphones, and shooting Shane a glowing look. “But Shane’s really good at network and software engineering.” 

Shane’s face was beet red at the compliment. His hands fiddled with his shirt, and Will was instantly reminded of Leo. “It’s nothing,” he muttered and smiled humbly. 

“It’s awesome , dude,” Austin laughed. “Wait ‘till we tell Chiron. We could have phones!” He snorted over at Will. “And he used it to get Gracie music streaming .” 

“Ooooh,” Kayla cooed over at them from her bed. “ Music streaming . How romantic.” 

“Stop it,” Gracie swatted at Austin’s leg, but she was smiling, blushing, and pointedly not meeting Shane’s eye. 

Gracie took out the headphones and played the song on speaker, filling the cabin with soft music (Hip-hop? Lo-fi? Will wouldn’t pretend to know the genre). The sound instantly mellowed everyone: Kayla’s fingers relaxed around an arrow, Yan’s shoulders lowered, and Maggie yawned and laid down on her bed. Nico was still hovering by the door, but he winked at Will when their eyes met.

Gracie and Shane grinned at each other. “And you made that in ten minutes,” he said, his voice full of obvious awe. 

Will gave them a few more minutes in the music. For a moment, it felt like Apollo was watching them from the corner, gently carrying Maggie off to bed or helping Kayla put away her arrows. It almost felt like a hug, warm and full of light, never mind that it was almost midnight in the cold of December. Straight from Dad , Will thought. 

“Bedtime,” he announced, and the air in the cabin seemed to drop back down a couple degrees as the music ended. 

“You better have a good excuse for Jake,” Gracie said as Shane peeked through the window towards the Hephaestus cabin to see if the lights were still on. 

Shane was still gathering his stuff as Will gently pulled the picture from Maggie’s sleep-weak hands. Her bleary eyes opened again as he pulled her sheets up and draped another blanket on top. 

“Can I have a necklace, too?” she mumbled as she eyed Will's, dangling above her as he leaned over. 

“You’ll get your first bead in the summer,” he said, but seeing her little face turn in sadness, he poked her nose. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

He turned to see Gracie watching them. She wiggled her eyebrows and gave him a mischievous look as she followed Shane out the door. They passed Nico, who bade Shane goodnight. 

“You stuck around?” Will asked as he approached. 

Nico took one of Will’s hands in his own. “Waiting for my goodnight kiss.” Yan made a retching sound as Will obliged. 

Nico flicked the finger behind him as he opened the door and strode out into the night. Will didn’t close the door just yet as he waited for Gracie. 

He watched her as she hailed Shane down and said something through chattering teeth. Her words were unintelligible, but she shot Will a grin as she seemed to be miming something in the air. Shane nodded, also smiling. He said something back, checked his watch, and turned to hurry back to his cabin before the harpies caught him. Gracie caught his wrist, though, and gave him a swift kiss before she, giggling, hurried back towards Will. Shane grinned like an idiot behind her.

“What was that about?” he asked as they barricaded themselves against the cold, safe inside the warmth of the cabin. “The miming, not the kissing.”

“You’ll see.” She did a little excited jig. He laughed and shook his head, but despite the good mood, she sagged a little.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

She glanced around at their siblings and saw that nobody was listening. She shrugged and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I mean, these are things you tell your parents, right? Your first kiss? But my mom’s not here, is she? And neither is Dad, so I just…” Her sigh was heavy. “I don’t know yet.” 

He nodded, and when she didn’t continue, said, “that’s okay.” She offered a small smile and leaned in for a hug. 

Will made sure everyone was all tucked in (force of habit) and the doors were before he finally did so himself. Eying Gracie’s sleeping form before he turned off the lights, he sent up a prayer: Dad, I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you could just not show Gracie her dead mom again? That would be great.

Karma’s a bitch, by the way. Do the laws of conservation of mass also apply to dreams? For instance, if you pray for your siblings to have good dreams, do all the bad vibes immediately infest your own dreams? 

Will, if he were awake, would argue that, yes, this is the case. The new dream was interspersed with the old one, flashing between one or the other, so it felt like whiplash on a rollercoaster. 

Jerry, standing before the Roman Senate. 

He was looking through the eyes of a bird, perched on a porch railing, looking through a window. A little girl wearing a green hat and a pink jacket was playing with her toys while her mother cooked dinner in the kitchen. The father walked in through the front door, laden with shopping bags and a present wrapped in shiny gold.

Mars, waving his hand. A lyre, appearing on Jerry’s arm. 

The little girl greeted her father with a squeal of delight. He said something to her, but the bird couldn’t hear it through the glass of the window. The man approached the window, and his words became clearer: “Your birthday was in August, squirt. These are for Christmas.” 

Jerry’s prophecy: “Crowns will fall to ash.” 

“August?” The girl’s high voice was easier to hear. 

“Yep, August 19. You remember?” 

“Oh,” she giggled, and surveyed the new present under the glittering tree. “Yeah.”

Jupiter, standing between the new augur and a towering statue of himself. 

The bird surveyed the street around the yard. One figure watched the house from another angle - the satyr. The bird’s wings flapped in annoyance. If he ever found out who told the satyr about the girl, he would turn them to dust.

The bird watched as the satyr turned and walked away from the house. 

Apollo, standing between his father and his son. 

Just as planned, the monster approached the house peering through the window with the bird. A loping thing, a lion with the feet of a bird, wings of smoke crackling with electricity. 

Inside, the mother set out plates on the table and beckoned her husband and daughter. 

The lion snarled at the smell of the half-blood, a mix of a roar and a clap of thunder. 

Olympus, Apollo on his knees, trembling, electricity jumping over his arms.

The lion attacked, breaking through the glass of the window and landing heavily on the carpet of the living room. The child screamed, high-pitched and terrified. The adults laughed. “Maggie, it’s just a kitty, look!”

A stranger’s face, dark and stony. He says something, but the words are quiet. 

The bird caught its own reflection in the glass before soaring away into the fading sunlight, not wanting to be seen when the satyr returned to three dead bodies. 

The doors of the Palace of the Sun. Chained shut. 

Will smacked his head on the bed frame as he woke. 

“Ouch,” said a sympathetic voice from beside him. Austin was already dressed and tying his shoes. They were the last two in the cabin. “Everyone went to breakfast already. Thought we’d let you sleep in.” 

Will’s heart was beating too fast to give a response without sounding as nervous as he was. A heavy weight had settled in his stomach. 

“You okay?”

Will could only shake his head as he climbed out of bed and got dressed with fumbling fingers. He told Austin all the details of his dream, seeing Maggie’s parents, the monster, everything. 

“That bird,” he was saying as they left the cabin. “It wasn’t any bird. It was an eagle .” 

Austin blinked, and Will could see the moment realization dawned. “You mean, you think… You-Know-Who sent the monster to kill Maggie?” The unspoken name lingered between them, the phantom scent of ozone burning at Will’s nose. Austin rubbed his face. “Okay, assume you’re right. But why ?”

Will sighed. “I don’t know,” he grumbled as they trudged through camp to the pavilion. “It doesn’t make any sense. And we still don’t know who tipped the satyrs off.” 

“Are you going to tell Chiron?” Austin said, lowering his voice as they sat down at the table Yan and Kayla, already eating, eyed them, but didn’t say anything. Maggie, sitting between them across the table, blabbered on about her friends. Will tried not to wonder if she would ever see them again.

“It’s not like he can do anything.” He looked up at the table where Mr. D and Chiron sat, heads together. There was no sign of the newcomers from the night before. 

Gracie joined them before too long, face flushed with excitement. “Guess what?” she grinned over at Maggie. 

“What?”

“I got you something,” Gracie said, and pulled something from her pocket. “I asked Shane to make it for you.” She presented Maggie with a cord, made of the same material as the camp necklaces. On it dangled a charm: a tiny sun, with Apollo etched in Ancient Greek around the center. 

“Whoa!” Maggie seized the necklace and stared at it. “I love it!”

Gracie smiled even brighter. “He made them for all of us.” She pulled out a pouch and pulled out more charms, handing one to each of them. “I already sent two to Jerry and Victoria,” she said, pulling another charm from the pouch and sliding in between her three beads. “And I have one more.” 

“For Dad,” Yan said, as if this was the obvious answer, and Gracie nodded. 

Will felt like a cold metal ball had shoved itself down his throat. He grabbed Gracie’s hand from across the table. “Thanks,” he managed. “These are great.” 

Chapter Text

The stink of the city slammed into Percy’s nostrils as he emerged from the subway. Then a person slammed into his shoulder. As one does in good old New York City. 

He grabbed Annabeth’s hand before she could be whisked away by the crowd headed towards Time Square, and they hurried off in the other direction, heads down against the cold wind. The grates beneath his feet billowed smoke as he wove between construction, people, more construction, the odd bicycle carriage, and yet more people. 

He and Annabeth didn’t bother speaking, knowing they wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the incessant horns of the ever-present traffic, sirens, and blasting pop music ( Wrecking Ball , which was what Percy felt like doing to the thrones of his ‘favorite’ aunts/uncles/cousins for dragging him up to Olympus on his winter break), but he grudgingly let go of her hand to skirt around a group of clueless slow-moving tourists. Tourists, because although they looked like very cold Mormons, they were loudly arguing over the best way to get to a theater. 

The winter sun had already set, and the Empire State Building was lit with red and green in anticipation of Christmas, but Percy wasn’t feeling very festive. For one, he didn’t have much interest in being on Olympus for the winter solstice but surprise, that’s where you get to be on the coldest day of the month! Merry Christmas, Percy, we really appreciate everything you’ve done for us, and risking your life to do our jobs is not something we take lightly. As a reward, we will heed any request you make of us for the rest of your life! 

On the other hand, that heavy weight of anxiety hadn’t abated from his stomach after a super-fun-and-not-at-all-concerning Iris Message from Chiron and his special guests . 

Carter and Sadie waited for them at the entrance of the building: Chiron had said that they, as Egyptians and pointedly not Greek, would need chaperones, and Percy and Annabeth were, unfortunately, the best for the job. 

However, despite the entire situation surrounding the entire encounter, Percy couldn’t help but grin as Carter raised a hand in greeting. Annabeth and Sadie rushed towards each other, giggling and squealing. 

“Oh, my gods,” Annabeth sighed as she held Sadie at an arm’s length. “It’s been way too long.” 

“You’re telling me,” Carter smiled as he clapped Percy on the shoulder. Still no hugs, then. Percy’s eyes landed on the two people lurking behind them: a girl with dark features and tan skin and a tall Black boy in a leather jacket. “Oh,” Carter said, and beckoned them forward. “Guys, this is Percy and Annabeth.”

He gestured to the girl. “This is Zia. She’s a fire magician. Oh, and my girlfriend.” Percy snorted at Carter’s growing blush, and the girl, Zia, shook her head fondly and took Percy’s hand. 

The boy stepped forward and shook Percy’s hand as well. “I am Walt Stone, Eye of Anubis.”

Percy paused. “Sorry, explain the eye thing again?”

Walt laughed. “I am Anubis’ permanent host. We are bound in perfect union.” 

Percy thought that sounded terrible: hosting Nekhbet that one time had been deeply unpleasant. “So… this Anubis guy is just in your head all the time?” 

“I am Anubis, in some senses. God of death and funerals.” 

Percy nodded and tried to arrange his face in a way that showed his understanding. Annabeth, when he looked over at her, either seemed to be doing the same or actually understood how the whole ‘hosting’ and ‘eyes’ thing worked. 

“You’d get along with Nico.” 

“The pale one with the dark hair? Wears all black?” Zia said, and Percy was a little surprised to see her smiling. He nodded. “He was eavesdropping for part of our conversation with Chiron with a couple others. Asked about Walt’s death magic.” 

Annabeth smirked. “He would. His father is Hades, god of the Underworld. He’s our death expert.”

“Who else was with him?” Percy asked as they opened the door to the Empire State Building. “I bet it was Will. Blond hair, blue eyes, tan?”

Sadie nodded as they entered the building. “And a little girl. About the same age as our ankle-biters.” 

“Ankle-biters?”

“Kindergarten age,” Carter offered. “About five.” 

Annabeth frowned. “Is that a common age to start training? Monsters don’t usually notice demigods until puberty.” 

Sadie shrugged. “It varies.” 

Percy approached the front desk with Carter as the others remained behind. The security guard eyed them, and Percy recognized him from his first visit to Olympus, over eight years ago. 

“Ah,” the security guard fumbled. “You-”

“We have an invitation from Dionysus,” Percy said. “This is Carter Kane, Pharaoh of the House of Life. We need an audience with the council.”

“I… ah. Ahem , yes I was made aware.” The security guy mumbled and blinked furiously. “But, ah , he can’t come up.” He pointed at Walt. “No Egyptian gods are allowed on Olympus. Zeus’ orders.” 

Sadie snarled and stormed up towards the desk, drawing her wand from her bag, but Walt grabbed her wrist. “It’s alright, Sadie,” he said, and nodded to the security guy. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll wait here with him,” Zia stepped back towards Walt. “We’ll be alright together.” 

Carter looked like he was about to protest. Percy could understand his reluctance to separate, especially considering the whole reason they had for being there in the first place, but Carter relented at Zia’s pleading look and nodded. 

“Here,” Percy said as he grabbed a sticky note from the security guy’s desk and scribbled down a phone number. “It’s my mom’s number. Call her, she’ll come over and bring you back to my place. She’s already out shopping.” 

The security guard slid over the keycard for the 600th floor and Percy took it. He, Annabeth, Sadie, and Carter left for the elevator, leaving Walt and Zia at the desk. 

Carter and Sadie both gasped as they saw the sprawling city. Even to Percy, the sight of Olympus sparkling in the winter night took his breath away. The streets were just as crowded as the last time he had been there for a winter solstice, when he was fourteen. Annabeth led them through, every so often pointing out a building of her own creation. 

The atmosphere was weird, to say the least. Before, when he walked through Olympus, he had been something of a celebrity - people would point, wave, and call his name. Now, it was all stares and, if Percy was reading their faces right, fear . 

“What’s going on?” he muttered to Annabeth. She just shrugged. It had been so long since he’d been there, for all he knew, there was some huge rumor going around about who knows what. Carter and Sadie remained oblivious, but Percy wondered if their presence had anything to do with it. Or another Great Prophecy. That would be great (note the sarcasm). 

The palace glittered at the peak of the mountain, glowing white against the night sky. The silver gates looked like woven nets from a distance, but closer up, Percy realized the doors behind them were open and waiting. The Olympian Council was waiting for them. 

“Ready?” Percy asked Carter and Sadie. 

“No, but let’s go.” 

The Hall of the Gods was just as big as he remembered: the size of a football stadium, with twelve thrones made for beings three times his height circled around the central hearth. Hades occupied his guest throne on the end of the circle where the gods sat, opposite the goddesses (and Dionysus). 

Percy’s eyes landed on his father, who winked as a sort of greeting, wearing his usual surfer’s getup. At first glance, it looked like all the gods were present, watching and waiting, ready and silent. All except one; Apollo’s seat of power, halfway along the semicircle of the thrones of his brothers and uncle, was empty. 

Percy wasn’t particularly surprised. Apollo’s return and swift disappearance wasn't exactly a secret - he had made enough friends in his time as a mortal for his presence to be missed, but if he wasn’t even showing up to council meetings, something else was going on. He saw Annabeth eyeing the empty throne as well, but neither said anything as Zeus rose from his seat, dressed in a three-piece pinstripe suit. 

Dutifully, but grudging all the same, Percy and Annabeth bowed at the foot of the king of the gods, then knelt in front of their respective parents. Carter and Sadie, behind them, bowed deeply as well, following their lead. 

“Speak your business, so we may move on from this disturbance,” Zeus snapped, breaking the silence like rainless thunder. From his peripheral vision, Percy saw Dionysus shrink back in his seat. Most likely, he had already been chewed out for allowing two Egyptian godlings onto Olympus. 

Percy and Annabeth stepped to the side, lingering beside Poseidon and Athena, respectively. Carter stepped forward, and gestured to Sadie.

“My name is Carter Kane,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. His words were flat, like he’d been rehearsing this speech for days. Knowing Carter, he had. “This is my sister, Sadie. We come from the Twenty-First Nome, in Brooklyn. And we’ve come to seek assistance from you, Lord Zeus. Our numbers dwindle, our Nomes are attacked daily, and our gods are absent and cannot help us.” He inhaled deeply, and in the echo of the room, it sounded shaky. “My people are dying. I speak for myself as Pharaoh, and on behalf of my uncle, the Chief Lector, and for all the other magicians: initiates, scribes, and sem priests alike. We-”

“ No .” 

Carter faltered. Zeus’ voice boomed like thunder again, and Percy saw Sadie jump a little. Zeus continued: “It is not our responsibility to solve your problems for you, little Pharaoh. The Council will not interfere in the world of mortals.” He waved his hand around the host of silent gods as he said this last part. “It is not the will of the Fates, and it violates our most ancient laws.” 

Athena cleared her throat. “Father, it may be wise to at least investigate.” 

Zeus waved her off. “Investigate all you want. This council, or the Greek or Roman gods as a whole, will take no action.” 

It sounded like a declaration. In reality, it might have been more of a threat: interfere and feel my wrath . Most eyes in the room were subconsciously drawn to Apollo’s empty throne, and the threat took a voice of its own. See what will become of you if you defy me.

Percy saw Carter’s hands ball into fists, and he almost considered calling him off. 

He didn’t. Carter’s voice rose to match Zeus’ in volume, and Percy, after a fleeting moment, realized that this was why Carter had won the favor of his gods and magicians alike. “I am Carter Kane, Pharaoh of the House of Life, Restorer of the Throne of Fire. I am the blood of the pharaohs before me, and the favored one of Horus!” His voice echoed. “The Olympian Council will heed my warning - inaction will lead to your downfall, as much as it will lead to mine. Believe me, what plagues us will come for you next .”

Tension electrocuted the room. For whatever reason, the entire council gasped at Carter’s words. Behind him, Percy felt his father’s aura tighten like the strength of the currents. Zeus’ eyes glowed with power, and every other god in the room stopped slouching, stopped picking at their nails, and sat straight up. 

“ Silence !” Zeus roared as chatter broke out. It did not die, and Zeus rose to his feet, his Master Bolt appearing in his hand. 

“Carter,” Annabeth called over, her voice full of that same oh no oh no feeling that was churning in Percy’s stomach. His hand drifted to his pocket, knowing that not doing something would result in Carter being nothing more than ash on the floor. He couldn’t say what it was about Carter that had caused a tidal wave of reactions from Olympian gods, of all people, but it couldn’t be good. 

A hand with an iron grip closed around his wrist before Riptide even brushed his fingers. Poseidon was watching Zeus stalk towards Carter with the oceans churning in his eyes, but he spoke to Percy. “ Do not .” 

Thankfully, Carter’s spine wasn’t made of clay. As Percy watched, he waved Sadie away and summoned a shell around himself: the body of a man with a hawk’s head, twenty feet tall and glowing, Carter encased in the middle. The combat avatar held a curved sword made of energy loosely at its side. It was taller than Zeus. 

Apparently, this was a non-issue. Zeus rose five more feet to match their heights as he approached, lightning curling up his arm like several hyperactive snakes. 

Carter and his avatar didn’t raise the khopesh, but his voice sounded like two put together. “ Kill me, Zeus, and you will face the wrath of my magicians and my pantheon ,” he boomed. “ I am just as much a king as you are .”

Zeus stopped, nearly nose-to-beak. Everyone was silent. Poseidon’s hand hadn’t left Percy’s wrist. 

Zeus’ voice was quiet. “Leave now, and my anger will be forgotten. Do not return.” 

Chapter Text

Carter’s combat avatar shrank as soon as Zeus stepped away. Sadie hurried forward and pulled Carter’s arm over her shoulder as his stance wavered. Percy and Annabeth rushed forward likewise and helped Sadie guide her brother out of the throne room. 

“Demarus!” Zeus called as they crossed the threshold the way they had come. “Escort them back to Manhattan.” 

It was a second before Percy realized that Demarus was a person. A figure that he hadn’t noticed when they walked in emerged from the shadows. It was a man, with a bearded face like it had been etched from stone. A few inches taller than Percy, with dark skin and eyes, he looked like he might be about thirty years old, and he was dressed simply, with a pale green cardigan tucked into dark pants. His hair hung loose past his well-muscled chest and shoulders to his stomach in thin locs. Golden charms woven into the hair swung with his gait, the glimmer reflecting the torchlight and catching Percy’s eye.  

He waved them forward with a large but unthreatening hand. “Come.” His voice was deep, but in a way that was softer than Percy had expected. 

The doors to the hall closed with a thud behind them, and only then did Percy let himself relax. Annabeth’s hand was shaking as she placed it on Carter’s shoulder, hunched over from the exhaustion of summoning his avatar. “That was so stupid.”

“I said what needed to be said.” 

“Indeed,” Demarus murmured appreciatively from behind them. They paused just before passing through the gates that surrounded the palace. “Rest a moment,” he told Carter, who gladly sank onto a bench. They could hear the sounds of partying around the other side of the palace, where the festivities of Saturnalia were already beginning. The gardens inside the gate were quiet.

“Who are you?” Percy blurted out. It was probably rude, but he honestly couldn’t tell if this guy was a god or not. 

“I am Demarus,” he said, inclining his head. “God of historians, scriveners, and the written word.” 

Percy couldn’t imagine why this guy, probably ranking towards the bottom of the totem pole of the minor gods, had been in the room for the Olympian Council. His confusion must have shown on his face when he looked over at Annabeth, and she shrugged. Clearly, she had never heard of him either. 

Demarus’ mouth lifted softly. “History does not remember her authors very well, I’m afraid.” 

“How were you there? I mean, the Olympian Council is exclusive,” Annabeth asked. “And we don’t need an escort, we can handle ourselves.” 

Demarus gave them what Percy could only describe as a pitying look, like he understood something they didn’t, yet. “I am an observer, by nature. Everything I witness is written. Zeus wants nothing forgotten.” 

Sadie snorted derisively. “Nothing but his anger, apparently.” 

Demarus’ face shifted to something strange. “Everything I witness is written,” he repeated, his voice laced with warning.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged another glance, then Annabeth looked down at Carter. “You mean,” she said, “that everything we say or do in your presence is transcribed in the history books of Olympus.” 

Demarus nodded, that strange look melting off his face. He looked pleased, like a teacher who had successfully coached a student through a tough problem. “Precisely.” 

That conclusion hung in the air, unspoken and unwritten: Demarus was to escort them down to Manhattan and report back to Zeus anything they said or did that was suspicious. He was a spy, and had openly admitted to it. So, not a spy by choice , Percy thought. 

Annabeth was still thinking - Percy could hear the cogs turning. “Okay,” she said, nodding, like she had just found a loophole. “So, you also know everything that goes on on the Olympian Council?” 

He nodded, maintaining eye contact with her. “I am privy to many things, Annabeth Chase.” 

“So you can tell us why everyone was scared of Carter?”

Carter’s head snapped up. “They were scared of me? Come on, I was one guy against twelve of your most powerful gods. I didn’t stand a chance.” 

Demarus shook his head. “They did not fear you. They feared your words . Powerful things.” He nodded down at Carter in subtle approval.

Carter’s brow furrowed as he stood up from the bench, the strength of his legs regained. “What did I say?” he asked carefully. “What were the words that scared them?”

“ The Olympian Council will heed my warning ,” Demarus quoted. He shared a smile with the floor, like he was thinking about a dear friend with whom this was an inside joke. 

Sadie clicked her tongue impatiently. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” 

“How do you know?” Percy asked. 

Demarus eyed him, and his voice was sad. “There are many things that have been scratched from the history books.” 

That made no sense to Percy. He felt his temper rising, about to demand Demarus stop speaking in riddles, but Annabeth’s hand clasped over his own. “He means he’s forbidden to tell us,” she said. 

“Can you give us a hint?” Sadie demanded more than requested.

Demarus paused, clearly searching for the right words. “Someone more acquainted with the future would know better than I.” He eyed Percy and Annabeth as he said this, clearly wondering if they understood. 

Percy’s first thoughts were of Rachel as they descended via the elevator with Demarus. Then, to Camp Jupiter with Ella and Tyson and the Sibylline Books. Of course, he’d ask Apollo if he thought he would get a response, but that hadn’t been an option for over two years. Fleetingly, he thought about Apollo’s children, and wished Will had some sort of prophecy knowledge… Ah . 

He eyed the back of Demarus’ head, who was patiently watching the numbers on the elevator tick down from 600. If Percy spoke his suspicions out loud, Zeus could find out and it would get ugly for all parties involved. So Percy turned to Annabeth and mouthed the name he was thinking of: ‘ Jerry Kumar .’

Her mouth opened in a little ‘oh’ (super cute, by the way), and her eyes lit up. She gave him a thumbs up and her mouth crinkled in a way that plainly said ‘good job’. 

I’m smart sometimes, too , he thought proudly as they finally exited the elevator. Walt and Zia weren’t in the lobby, and Demarus walked them all the way to the door and joined them on the street. 

“Let’s find a phone and call my mom,” Percy started. “If she already picked up Walt and Zia…” But she hadn’t. The other two were waiting off to their right, and called their names as they emerged into the cold night.

“That didn’t take long,” Zia said, approaching them and frowning at the paleness of Carter’s face. “How did it go?”

“Bad,” they all said in unison. Annabeth recounted the whole tale, excluding Demarus’ plight from the story. 

“We’re good, now,” Sadie snapped at him. 

“Very well,” he said. “I will-”

“Hey, you guys!” Sally Jackson in all her glory strode towards them, pushing forward a stroller where Estelle was wrapped up like a burrito in three blankets. She squealed at the sight of Percy and wiggled her arms valiantly from where she was straightjacketed in. Her thick, wooly hat tumbled off her head as she freed her arms and tripped towards Percy’s legs. 

“Hey, you!” He pulled Estelle up and tossed her into the air as she giggled and screamed. Estelle reached for Annabeth next, clearly determined to get her fair share of hugs. 

“Hey,” he said, hugging his mom and introducing her to everyone. But her eyes lingered on Demarus…

As Percy looked over, Demarus was wearing the most emotion Percy had yet seen from him, watching Estelle with nothing short of horror in his eyes. His eyebrows pinched together, and his lips were in a tight line. 

“What is it?” 

Demarus kept staring at the oblivious Estelle, who was practically vibrating in Annabeth’s arms. At Percy’s voice, he tore his eyes away and glanced back up towards the top of the tower, towards Olympus. His gaze jumped between them: Percy, Estelle, Carter, the tower, like he was slowly finishing a thousand-piece puzzle and the picture had only just become clear. And it wasn’t a pleasant picture, apparently. 

“Ah.” His voice was breathy and shaky. “I should go.” Without a backwards glance, he turned on his heel and dissolved into the falling snow. 

Sadie broke the tense silence. “That was weird.” 

Percy nodded in solidarity, wondering when, if at all, this entire situation would make any sense: the incessant monster attacks, a secret among the Olympian Council, and now a literal god acting like Estelle was the omen for the end of the world. “You can say that again.”

Sadie, Carter, Zia, and Walt stayed at Sally and Paul’s apartment for dinner. Paul offered to set up all their spare blankets and pillows in the living room for them to stay the night, but Carter waved him off. “We shouldn’t,” he said. “Our initiates have been relocated to Chicago, they’ll want news.” 

Sadie and Annabeth hugged again as they left. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more,” Annabeth said. “But, who knows, maybe a couple gods will decide to have a little compassion.” 

Percy wanted to snort and say ‘good luck with that’, but he held back. The only god Percy was sure would have helped had been missing for too long to give him the same sort of hope. “Call if you need anything,” was all he said. “We’ll keep our ears open.” 

Too open, maybe. As per usual, his dreams never really caught the memo that he’d like one good night’s sleep for once in his life. Of course, the end of the world hadn’t been particularly imminent for a while now, so the dreams had abated, somewhat. But, of course, just when everything seems fine, it really isn’t. 

Percy’s dream yanked him back to the golden days of Ancient Greece. In front of him in a brightly-lit room with many windows was a man, hunched over a papyrus, more scattered around him. His reed pen scribbled hastily over the paper, the bottom of his thin beard dangerously close to messing up the wet ink. A woman sat in the corner. She was beautiful, and Percy was almost certain he had seen her before. Her dress, a peplos , was dyed with a soft pink, and she watched as the man continued to write, not bored, but paying close attention. Her fingers brushed idly along a loose piece of dirty blonde hair that had fallen from her elaborate-looking hairstyle. 

The room was silent aside from the scratch of the pen - the man was silent as he wrote, and the woman, a goddess if Percy had to guess, did not interrupt. It was mesmerizing, the way the words continued to spill over the page, in one singular flow of inspired consciousness. Percy idly wondered if the man could see the goddess - he seemed like the type to be distracted by her presence. 

It had only been a few minutes before the man stopped writing, but to Percy, it felt like hours. The man sat back and read through what he had written, and the woman craned her neck to see. 

“Complain much?” a new voice said. The man and the woman both looked up as a new person appeared in the blink of an eye, standing in front of the desk and peering down at the words written there. There was no question who he was, although Percy had never seen this particular form.

Apollo in the days of Ancient Greece practically hummed with power. His aura was like smooth honey, and his eyes glowed softly with molten gold. His hair, loose and blond, hung past his shoulders, over which his gold bow and quiver were slung. 

The man scowled. “Call me a pessimist all you like, my Lord. If I am offered rebirth by the Judges of Death, I only ask to be born a century ago.”

The woman laughed loudly at that. She stood and strode over to the table where the ink of the paper was still wet. Waving her hand, the ink dried. “The Ages of Man,” she read out loud, then chuckled again. 

“Come now, Calliope,” the man said. “I’ll be famous for that, one day.” One of the Muses, Percy realized. Calliope was the goddess of epic poetry, if he remembered right. 

“That’s true. Hesiod, mentioned in the same breath as the likes of Homer.” Apollo grinned as he took the papyrus from Calliope. “Among scholars, at least, if your predictions are true.” He scanned the writing. “The Iron Age, huh?” He laughed like it was a joke, but his eyes creased with concern, and his fingers worried at the hem of his chiton. “Are you sure you aren’t a prophet as well?”

“Only you would know, my Lord,” Calliope snickered. 

The man, Hesiod, snorted. “It is poetry. Literature and myth. I am not an Oracle.” 

“I still think you’re pretty enough for it,” Apollo teased, carefully hiding away whatever had concerned him before. He placed the papyrus back in front of Hesiod, winking at the old man. “A bit too grumpy, though,” he continued as Hesiod grunted in amusement. 

Hesiod shuffled his papers together at the sound of another voice calling his name. “My students,” he offered, then bowed deeply and left. 

Calliope drifted around the room, picking up a couple stray papyrus sheets. Apollo’s fingers played restlessly with the hem of his chiton again, and Calliope shot him a confused look. “What is it? His predictions are not true prophecies, you know.” 

“That doesn’t mean they won’t be perceived as such,” Apollo murmured. Calliope only shrugged, and the dream faded as Apollo dissolved into glittering light. 

Chapter Text

Percy kept the dream to himself until he and Annabeth were driving cross-country again after spending Christmas with his family. The drive back to New Rome was long, thankfully, so he had plenty of time to give her the smallest details of the dream. 

“And that’s where it ended,” he finished as the highway stretched out in front of them. 

“How have you never heard of Hesiod?” she muttered from the passenger’s seat. “He was one of the most famous poets in Ancient Greece.” 

“I gathered that much, yeah. But have you ever heard of that poem, specifically?” 

“The Ages of Man? Of course! It’s a section of Works and Days with a comprehensive crash course on Ancient Greek history.” Her brow furrowed. “I can’t remember what it says specifically, though. Apollo was interested in the Iron Age?” 

Percy nodded. “There was a prediction that Hesiod made in there, and he was worried it would be perceived as a prophecy. That someone would take it literally.” 

Annabeth paused, and shook her head. “No, I don’t know it.” 

“Adding another thing we don’t know to the quickly growing list.” 

The drive was long and tedious. Thankfully, they only saw a couple monsters (one was driving a pickup truck, which made him nervous at first, but it hadn’t tried to drive him off the road, for which he was grateful), and made it back to New Rome within four days, the day before New Years. 

True to the plan, the first thing they did at their arrival was seek out the praetors. Frank and Hazel looked as busy as ever planning an extravagant New Years party (hey, these are the luxuries you get when you’re not at war with Titans, giants, or evil Roman emperors). 

The four of them sat down at a private dinner that night and Percy and Annabeth proceeded to explain everything they had seen in the past week. Frank and Hazel, as praetors, had guessed the presence of other pantheons already, but were still surprised to hear that Percy and Annabeth were buddy-buddy with two of the most powerful Egyptian magicians since the days of King Tut (or someone, Percy wasn’t really paying attention the first time Carter said it). But when he told them about his dream with Hesiod and Apollo, they both perked up in immediate interest. 

“We were the last ones who saw Apollo in-person,” Hazel said, wobbling her fork in her hand. “Us and Jerry, of course.” 

“What happened?” Annabeth asked. 

“Well,” Frank glanced over at her. “It was the beginning of the summer. It’ll be, what, three years ago this upcoming May?” Hazel nodded, and he continued. “This was when Jerry showed up, one of Apollo’s kids, and said that he’d inherited Apollo’s gifts of prophecy, and that he wanted to be the new augur. So, the Senate received him, and Mars swore him in at the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.”

“And, right after,” Hazel continued, “He gave a prophecy.” She eyed Frank. “It was… confusing to say the least. We were there, and Mars said something about it being the new Great Prophecy, but before we could do anything else, Jupiter himself showed up.” 

“It was terrifying ,” Frank groaned. “He was angry at Mars for swearing in a new augur without telling him first, said it was irresponsible, and that he’d endangered Olympus. I thought he was going to kill Jerry.”

“He probably would have if Apollo hadn’t shown up and deescalated the whole thing,” Hazel nodded. “Jupiter said something about Octavian, and repeated mistakes. You know,” she gestured with her fork, and her piece of tofu plopped back on her plate. “Everything he said back in Athens: problems with prophecies and the Fates limiting the choices the gods could make. And the prophecy itself was, uh , not good.”

“I think he was a little paranoid,” Frank said quietly, glancing up at the ceiling, waiting for thunder.  “It kind of sounded like the end of the world.” 

“Most Great Prophecies do,” Percy grumbled. “What did it say?”

Hazel frowned. “Same as the Council: we’re forbidden from repeating it,” she muttered. She looked up at them with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Key word: repeating .” 

Percy grinned. “I love loopholes.” 

Apollo had made a joke in passing about how the smell of a Cyclops’ tattoo parlor made that dumpster he landed in smell like a field of lavender. After his first time visiting the same bookstore, Percy decided he hadn’t been joking, because gross . The front room of the bookstore would have been normal if not for the absolute stench of burning leather. He was somewhat used to it, by now, having visited a couple times in the past, but it was a hard smell to forget. 

A kid sat at the desk, about fifteen years old, his nose stuck deep in a large tome written in Ancient Greek. His orange beanie had the Camp Half-Blood pegasus embroidered on the front, and he was wearing a cord necklace with a single green bead and a sun charm, so Percy might have thought he was Greek. But Percy knew better. That, and the kid was wearing a typical Roman toga over a sky blue sweater. Looking up, Percy saw a freckled face with tan skin and brown eyes, tufts of brown hair poking out from underneath the hat. Percy had never met him before, having had no reason to associate with the new augur besides from a distance, but he was about as far from Octavian in looks as you could get. 

“Hey, Jerry,” Hazel said. 

Jerry Kumar marked his page and stood up to greet them with a toothy grin. “‘Sup, guys.” Percy added British to the list of Jerry vs. Octavian. 

There was a resoundant crash from upstairs, then a heavy thumping and the sound of a harpy shrieking indignantly. Tyson, shirtless and in all his one-eyed glory, appeared in the doorway and promptly smothered Percy in a bone-cracking hug. “Brother!” he yelled as he swung Percy around the shop. “You are back!”

“I was only gone for ten days,” Percy wheezed, clutching his ribs, but smiling all the same. 

“But I missed you!” Tyson pouted. 

“I missed you, too, big guy,” Percy said, laughing and reaching up to clap Tyson on the shoulder. 

“Listen,” Frank said to Jerry, drawing everyone’s attention back. He turned to Percy. “You tell him.”

So Percy repeated everything all over again. At the dream about Hesiod, Jerry’s mouth fell open. “Ah. That makes sense.” 

“Well, I’m glad it does for you, ‘cause I’m still lost.” 

Jerry gestured Tyson over, and searched along the heavily tattooed skin of his torso. “Here,” he said, pointing to a few lines of words, larger than all the rest. “One of my first prophecies. Normally, my prophecies are just vague predictions, but this one was much more like Rachel’s. Like… like the Fates are speaking through me.” His eyes drifted off in a way that was slightly unnerving. It also reminded Percy of Apollo, whenever he was remembering something from a couple millenia ago. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree . At this point, any doubts Percy had had of Jerry’s legitimacy as augur had evaporated - Octavian’s prophetic powers, if they had ever existed, paled in comparison to whatever was going on in Jerry’s head. 

Annabeth leaned over and read the inscription tattooed onto Tyson’s skin. “I see why you said it was confusing,” she said after a minute. “It’s just a bunch of phrases all mashed together. There’s no rhyme or reason to it at all.” She read on for a moment, and leaned back, eyebrows creased. 

Percy leaned over and read: 

Crowns fall to ash as the staggering one comes near with the poet’s words.

Behold the kingdoms - if those warnings are heeded, new kings build anew.

With destiny in hand, at the break of the dawn, death will meet the stars. 

“The poet’s words… that could mean Hesiod. And ‘warnings are heeded’ is probably why the Council reacted weirdly to Carter. You’re right,” he said, stepping back again. “It makes no sense.” 

But he couldn’t help but feel a little vindicated. The phrases crowns will fall to ash and new kings build anew had him feeling… What, excited? No, more apprehensive, like this prophecy was a guarantee that things would be changing. But, if he knew Zeus and his tendencies at all, this was probably why his reaction to Jerry and the prophecy had been so violent, and had made the Council swear to never repeat it. Jerry’s prophecy loudly proclaimed to anybody that read it that Zeus would be facing a war in the future, whether or not he liked it. And, by the looks of it, he would lose. 

“It still raises more questions, though,” Annabeth murmured. “The ‘staggering one’? Plus,” she turned back to Jerry. “Just because the Council heard Carter say to ‘heed his warning’ doesn’t mean this prophecy is coming true any time soon.” 

Or Zeus just wants us to think that , Percy thought to himself and watched as Tyson got distracted and wandered back upstairs. “What about the first bit? The poet’s words?”

Jerry grinned and pulled up his big book again. The front cover read The Complete Works of Hesiod . 

“Hah,” Percy said. “You’re cool, you know that?” 

Jerry shrugged and grinned, and Percy caught a flash of Apollo in the mannerisms. He pulled the book open to a marked page, spun it around towards them, and started to explain:

“The Ages of Man are what Hesiod thought of the history of Ancient Greece. There’s been five ages, in total: gold, silver, bronze, heroic, and iron. Hesiod thought he, and by extension, us, are all in the Iron Age. The last one he wrote about.”

Annabeth nodded thoughtfully, fingers playing with the sleeve of her jacket. “Zeus destroyed every other age that came before it, because they didn’t fit his vision.” 

Jerry nodded. “But the Iron Age isn’t perfect either. And Hesiod complains about it a lot .” 

Frank shuffled uncomfortably. “And I’m assuming it would be too much to ask for Jupiter to just… be nice? And not kill us all?”

Probably. 

Jerry nodded sympathetically, then pointed at a specific line of text halfway down the page. “Hesiod made a series of predictions about what the end of the Iron Age would look like. I’m assuming this is what my dad was worried about in your dream, Percy. They’re very specific predictions, almost like prophecies.” 

Annabeth bent over the page, and started to read. She gasped after a moment, and her hand flew up to her mouth. Jerry was the only one who didn’t look confused. Her eyes flicked over the page and then shot up to meet Percy’s face. “ Look ,” she said. “ Right there .”

Percy leaned over and followed down the page to where Annabeth’s finger was hovering. His blood ran cold. He cursed as all the realizations came crashing down, and pieces started sliding into place.

“What is it?” Hazel asked, tugging the book towards her and skimming over the passage. “I don’t understand.” 

Jerry cleared his throat and quoted the exact passage that had made Percy’s stomach feel ten times heavier. “ And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have gray hair on the temples at their birth .” 

Frank shook his head. “I don’t get it.” 

Fingers fumbling, Percy pulled out his wallet and shuffled through the pictures there until he found a picture of Estelle, several months old, with her big blue eyes and slobbering over a blanket. 

Hazel blinked rapidly like she was trying to reset her brain. “ Her hair ,” she murmured. 

Percy told the story as best as he could remember: Estelle’s hair, when she was born, had been a cause of great concern for Percy’s parents. At the hospital, the doctors were already hovering almost excessively over Sally, because it was considered a “geriatric” pregnancy (Percy had decided pretty early on that this was just a stupid way to say she was in her late 30’s). When Estelle’s hair grew in and she visited for a checkup, the doctor had said she might have a genetic disease, but the tests all came back negative, and the doctors had no idea what had caused it, because Estelle’s hair was… well, gray . 

Percy sighed and sat down on the edge of the stairs. Frank looked like he was going to be sick, and Jerry just looked sad. 

“Well,” Hazel said, her voice muffled because her chin was propped on her knees from where she was sitting on the floor. “There’s no guarantee that it actually refers to Estelle.” 

“But that’s what my dad was worried about,” Jerry said. “Was that, regardless of whether or not it’s a true prophecy, or whether or not it is about Estelle specifically, it would be taken as true.” 

“And not just by anyone.” Annabeth rubbed her forehead. “Zeus specifically could use this as an excuse to… to destroy us all.” 

“Well,” Frank blustered, “he’s one god. There are other gods, other pantheons , that wouldn’t let Jupiter just commit genocide out of the blue, right? A-and the fact that one baby is born with gray hair feels like a bad excuse.” 

“But you’re forgetting that the prophecy exists.” Hazel raised a finger. “If he can justify it by saying it’s for the greater good of Olympus, who knows how many other gods he’d get on his side?”

“Crap. Yeah, that’s a good point.” 

“But he wouldn’t be unopposed,” Annabeth muttered, mostly to herself. “He’d risk going to war, if he thought it was worth it. Which,” she shrugged. “Based on the contents of the prophecy, he might.” 

“I feel like we’re spiraling,” Percy interjected. “He doesn’t even know about Estelle.”

Annabeth’s gaze was painfully sympathetic. “Oh, Percy…” 

Yet another crushing realization made his throat feel too tight. He couldn’t force the words out, because saying it out loud would make everything so much worse. Annabeth took pity on him and explained to Hazel and Frank.

“Demarus reported back everything he saw to Zeus, and he saw her hair.” She grabbed Percy’s hand. “So… So Zeus knows.” 

“So we’re all dead meat?” Frank’s voice was strained, and his lips were twitching like he was trying to pretend that their imminent demise was nothing more than a laughing matter. Coping mechanisms at their finest. 

Hazel’s fingers jumped over her knees. “What do we even do?” She looked over at Jerry, who gave a weak smile and a shrug. “Do you know anything that could help us?”

Jerry bowed his head. “I couldn’t say. My foresight only stretches so far.” 

Percy felt something else brewing in his chest - a deep rumbling that threatened to overtake him. Frustration built in his limbs, and he felt the overwhelming urge to punch something. His hands fidgeted, seemingly of their own accord, and he wanted to yell, to scream, to drive all the way back across the country, climb 600 flights of stairs, and skewer Zeus with Riptide. “We could always just kill him,” he snapped, only half joking. 

“ Percy ,” Annabeth said, quietly, but still with that touch of warning that was constantly in her voice whenever he said stuff like that.

“It’s not like it’ll change anything,” he muttered, his anger rising. “He’s apparently planning on killing us either way. What’s the use of delaying it?” He wrenched his hand from Annabeth’s, turned on his heel and wrenched open the door of the bookstore. Annabeth followed, calling his name.

“No, because you know why this sucks ?” Percy snarled up into the sky. It was slightly cloudy, and the street around them was devoid of people. They were all at dinner, painfully but blissfully unaware that their world could end at any moment. “This sucks because everything I’ve ever done for the gods is apparently useless now. Zeus is just going to kill us anyways! Well, you know what?” He raised his arms, practically challenging a lightning bolt to come and strike him down. “ I’m not gonna take it sitting down! ” 

He fumed for a moment longer, but no lightning came. There was no thunder, either. Whatever , the skies seemed to say. Take it running, for all I care, little boy. You’ll be dead soon enough, and your legs will not be able to tell the difference. 

After a moment, Annabeth took his hand again. By the sound of it, Frank had given into the same urge Percy had to punch a bookshelf. Annabeth’s eyes were brimming with tears when Percy looked over, and behind him, Hazel’s were already freely falling on the threshold of the bookstore. 

But Percy’s eyes were dry.

Chapter Text

So much for her New Year's plans. Piper watched as Shel slammed the car door shut and hurried away, her shawl fluttering in the Boston wind, towards the random hotel halfway down the block. 

“Drop me off here,” she had said, fiddling restlessly with one of the several bracelets on her wrist. “And, sorry about missing the ball drop tomorrow. I’ll get my boss to fly me back to Oklahoma when I’m done.”

Piper had waved it off, biting back a sad bitterness as Shel hailed down the girl waiting outside the hotel. Bitterness turned to grudging jealousy - the girl was very pretty, with her green hijab and brown peacoat. Shel and the girl disappeared inside the hotel, and Piper turned the car away.
“What to do now?” Piper muttered to herself. Going to the Times Square Ball Drop had been Shel’s idea in the first place, because Piper’s dad had managed to get them a few spots at a VIP room through an actor friend of his. But Piper didn’t feel like going anymore. Sure, she could call Leo and drag him along, but, well, the Waystation was a far ways off.

She tried not to feel angry as she started driving aimlessly. Shel hadn’t even offered a good explanation as to why she left - “ Don’t worry about it, babe, it’s a work thing. I’m on call, and my boss knows I’m in Boston and needs some stuff .” 

Piper vaguely considered asking Shel to put in a good word with her boss. Travel? Pretty girls? Plus, it looked like a nice hotel. Why not? 

The car rumbled beneath her as she drove and drove and drove. Her mind wandered past Shel and back to Leo. Maybe she would go to the Waystation… She hadn’t seen Leo since the fall.

That, and she didn’t really have any desire to go to Camp Half-Blood. The only people there she really knew or cared about were Nico (and Will, by proxy), and wasn’t much bolstered by the fact that she knew that Drew would be there. Percy, Annabeth, Frank, and Hazel were all at Camp Jupiter, the last she had heard, and she had left Gleeson and his family in Oklahoma (upon her insistence that he needed to be there for her dad and Chuck, plus Mellie, who was anxiously awaiting the arrival of baby number two). 

She fiddled with the radio of the car for a moment before landing on a country song that she’d heard before. Singing along idly, she decided upon a destination and continued her way south and headed for Indianapolis. 

She was, to put it plainly, wildly unsuccessful. 

She had been passing south through Connecticut, just upon (or maybe past, she couldn’t tell yet) the border to go through New York, when she spied something loping along behind her in the forested median through the rearview mirror. She couldn’t see it very well through the darkness strewn across the ground from where the clouds had blanketed over the sky, but she would be willing to bet it was some sort of monster. Yet again . 

Warily, she increased her speed and switched to the rightmost lane, intending to get off on the exit and shake the monster off, and hoping that some kind soul driving an 18-wheeler might pulverize the thing before it became a bigger problem for Piper. 

Unfortunately, the monster was a bit too fast for that. So fast, in fact, that when it burst from the trees of the median onto the four-lane highway, it easily outpaced the few cars in between itself and Piper’s car. Cursing, she pressed the gas pedal further down and rocketed towards the closest exit two miles away. 

She finally got a good glimpse of the thing as it overtook the last car behind hers. She vaguely thought it looked like a version of a werewolf she had seen in a movie once: a dog with long front legs, and powerful, bounding back ones. Its face made her stomach roil uncomfortably, because she swore that, while it had a snout, there was something simply too human about it. The monster didn’t seem to tire as she pushed the car even faster, wondering if slowing down as she reached the exit was even a good idea. Or even, if that would work. 

Her heart hammered in her throat as the monster galloped closer. Its face was visible, now, and it made goosebumps crawl up her legs: slavering, teeth-filled jaws, open as it snapped closer and closer and closer . 

The car simply wouldn’t go any faster, but she wasn’t entirely convinced that the steel would protect her. The monster’s front claws were half a foot each, glinting in her rearview lights and making slashing movements toward the back tires of the car. 

In a moment of pure desperation, she slammed on the brakes as hard as she could with both feet. Her head snapped forward with the force of it, and she heard a snarling cry and a thud from the monster pass over her head as it bounded ahead. 

Infinitely grateful that it hadn’t punctured through her back window, she spied the monster skidding to a halt some twenty meters in front of her, stumbling and falling as it tried to turn back around to face her. Hands slipping on the wheel, Piper’s foot hammered back down on the gas and the car barreled back around towards the same exit she had nearly missed. 

The car rounded the exit slower than she would have liked, but the monster didn’t reappear in the mirror. Just to be safe, though, she fumbled around in the gap behind her seat and drew up her backpack. Shuffling blindly for a moment, she pulled Katroptis from the depths of it and slid off the sheath by sticking it in between her knees. Holding the knife and the wheel in one hand, she tossed the sheath back in the bag.

Looking up towards the signs on the new parkway she found herself on, she saw the exit she had taken was leading her further south, towards NYC. She glared at Katroptis for a moment before changing her destination. If the Fates wanted her at Camp Half-Blood, well. To camp she would go. 

This new road was busier, but there was still no sign of the monster. The goosebumps and the adrenaline didn’t fade, though. Keeping Katroptis drawn, all she could do was drive and wait. 

Night was falling fast. The clock on the dashboard of the car said it wasn’t even five o’clock yet, and a visible sunset was absent through the thick cover of clouds. Still, Piper waited and drove. 

She was just coming up towards Manhattan when the monster caught up, as she knew it would. At first, it looked strange. Then, she realized that it had brought friends, all loping behind the first one, making it look like a many-legged behemoth of a thing. She counted at least six from her view of them in the mirror, and wondered if charmspeak would work on them, although she didn’t have much desire to get close enough to find out. 

Stupidly, she hadn’t brought her blowgun with her, the only long-distance weapon she was moderately good at. All she had was a pretty knife. And exclusive control over two tons of steel with the capability of hitting one hundred miles per hour. She decided the latter might be more useful if it were made of Celestial Bronze. She idly thought of suggesting this to Leo if she made it out of this alive, but judging on the decreasing distance between her and a pack of humanoid wolves, that was seeming more and more unlikely. 

Her mind jumped around from option to option: roll down the window and test her charmspeak? Try to run them over with the car? Throw Katroptis? 

Maybe not that last one, but she was quickly running out of good ideas as the monsters approached and formed a ring around the car - she wouldn’t be able to pull off the same maneuver as before. 

She wondered what the mortals saw as she tried to trample the monster in front of her. It darted ahead and snapped to its companions, who bared their teeth at her through the windows, jaws dripping spit and a yellowish something that might have been poison. At this point, rolling down the window and charmspeaking them might get her head bitten off, so she resisted the urge. 

Strangely enough, they did not attack as she jerked and swerved the car around, trying to shake them off and being rather unsuccessful in everything besides pissing them off even more. They simply galloped along around the car, howling and snarling, but not striking at the car to get at her. 

She was losing hope as they approached Manhattan. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if these monsters got loose on humans, but they only seemed focused on her. 

She was hyperventilating as she started wondering how smart the monsters were - were they taking her somewhere? Was there a god behind all this, angry with her for some imagined slight? Desperately, she tried to think of what god she might have pissed off before she realized something was off.

The road had suddenly emptied. She could see the city in the distance, lit as always, but the road in front of her was completely devoid of mortal presence. There were no cars as far as her eye could see in both directions. 

The only thing she could see in front of her made her blood run cold. Before she could process it, the monster behind her reached out and slashed through her back tires in one swipe. The car shuddered under her and slid to a rattling halt. The monsters trotted around, snapping and growling as she tried to not burst into frantic tears. 

The thing in the center of the road in front of her stepped forward. It was another monster, of the same template as the others. But this one was three times bigger, fur matted with dried blood, and on its head was a crown of two terrible horns that ripped through the air like lightning bolts of bone, each the size of her body. 

In her crazed mind, the only thing Piper could think about were the pictures she had seen of old trees that had grown around bicycles and stop signs over time to swell around the foreign objects, encasing them in bark. The crown had similarly been overtaken by the bone and flesh of the monster’s head, which bulged and warped in a way that sent chills down her spine. 

The new monster stepped closer, the smaller ones backing up in its wake. It bowed its head, more humanoid than the others, and peered down at Piper through the front window. Its lips curled back in a driveling smile that would have scared her even if it wasn’t gracing the face of one of the most horrible monsters she had ever seen. A little sound of terror escaped her. 

“ Come out, godborn .” 

She felt tears on her cheeks as the command washed over her. It rattled around in her head, banging off the sides of her skull, deep and gonging. Getting out seemed the obvious choice. Unbuckling with fingers shaking like Poseidon-sent earthquakes, she stumbled out of the car. 

One monster snapped forward at her, and she lashed out with Katroptis out of habit and terror. Her hit landed, if only in the form of a scratch, and the monster yelped and backed up. Her blade came away dripping in thick, black blood. No dust. That piece of information floated to the forefront of her haze of fear and terror. 

The head honcho stood on its back legs, and Piper resisted the urge to cower and burst into tears. While the first monsters had been about the size of her car, this one had to stand with the height of a house, its crown reaching up and forming cracks in the cloud cover. It waved a paw-like hand, and the slash she had created on the smaller monster healed instantly. 

Piper’s knees felt weak as the nightmare-fuel stepped closer, dropping back onto its front paws. Its eyes were pupilless, a mottled color of sickly yellow and light-eating black. 

It raised its paw-hand again, sitting on its haunches, and Katroptis crumbled into ash in Piper’s hand. 

She was going to die. She was sure of it. This monster was going to watch as its lieutenants tore her to pieces, merciless and terrible and crazed. 

The silence pounded in on her ears and even her heart seemed quiet, giving up on its valiant attempt to keep beating.  

She thought about Shel, wishing she had given a better goodbye. She thought about her dad, and Gleeson, and how long they would wait for her to return until they realized what had happened. She even thought about Aphrodite, and for how long, if at all, she would remain a part of her mother’s expansive memory. 

She thought about Jason, wondering how their reunion would go. Would he be happy to see her, or sad she was dead in the first place? 

She squeezed her eyes shut. The monsters were all silent around them, waiting for their master to deliver the blow. 

“ Behold your kingdoms. Ash before, ash after.” 

“ Begone, unsteady one. ”

The new voice spoke in Greek, and Piper’s eyes flew open to see the monster baring its teeth in a demented slash at a figure behind Piper. 

“ Not I, dust-fated. He draws close. ”

Piper didn’t dare face away from the monsters as they all turned and departed, bloodless. 

A hand landed on her shoulder, but she jumped away, a cry of fear falling from her mouth. The person, a young girl a little younger than her, with silver eyes and a matching circlet, raised her hands in peace as Piper hugged her arms close to her chest and started crying. 

“My apologies,” the girl said over the sound of Piper’s sobs. 

“W-who-” she stuttered and sniffled, before the sound of someone calling her name made her turn and cry even harder. 

Thalia Grace sprinted over towards her from the wilderness to her left, hefting her bow with a hunting dog hot on her heels. Thalia drew her into a crushing hug, and all Piper could do was sob uncontrollably. 

“You’re okay,” Thalia muttered close to her ear. “It’s gone.” 

Chapter Text

Piper pulled the blanket tighter around her as the door to the Big House opened and closed again. Thalia rubbed at Piper’s shoulders and kept watch as counselors filed in, and Artemis and Dionysus exchanged quiet words in the corner. Chiron watched the scene in front of him with a furrowed brow. 

“Reyna is leading the rest of the Hunters on their way here,” Thalia told him. Piper and her had taken two pegasi to camp, and Artemis had followed on her own. When they had arrived in the Big House, they had been met with Chiron and Dionysus on an Iris call with Percy, who looked downright outraged, and Dionysus had looked abashed under Chiron’s critical gaze. 

Will and Nico were the next to hurry in, and Will made a beeline for Piper. “Are you alright? I only heard you were attacked on the way over, what happened?”

Thalia waved him off, for which Piper was grateful. She just felt numb, and heavily disliked the amount of attention she was getting at the moment. “She’s fine, just give her some space.” Thalia shot a look back over to Artemis, who nodded grudgingly. “Come,” she said, and beckoned them over to the rec room. Inside were amassed all the counselors around the ping-pong table, one for each cabin - Piper hadn’t realized how many were in the same boat as her and ended up retreating back to the shelter of camp. And, despite the fact that it must be dinner time by now, every single one of them were quiet and waiting. All of them could tell that something was wrong, and the presence of two very somber Olympians at a counselor meeting was never good tidings. Artemis waved her hand and food appeared on the table, but nobody ate. 

Percy’s face hovered in an Iris Message in the corner. Behind him were Annabeth, Frank, and Hazel, who all gave Piper encouraging waves. Another kid sat silently behind them. 

Rachel Elizabeth Dare was the last to enter, giving a short little bow to Artemis as she did so. 

Chiron cleared his throat. All attention shifted to him, and he nodded towards Artemis. She stepped forward. 

“Two and a half years ago,” she started, nodding towards the Iris Message. Piper couldn’t tell who she was referring to, but the kid in the back nodded knowingly. “We received a new Great Prophecy.” 

Everyone simultaneously looked at Rachel, who looked as equally confused as the rest of them. “But… I didn’t? Was it the Grove?”

The mystery kid in the Iris Message raised his hand. “It was me,” he said, and Rachel’s mouth made a little ‘o’ of comprehension. He gave a little wave and pointed to himself. “Jerry,” he said by way of introduction. “Augur at Camp Jupiter.” 

“Jerry was a camper here for a summer,” Will offered. For a moment, Piper wondered how they knew each other, then realized they must be brothers. After all, what god could produce prophecy-speaking and healing children if not Apollo?

Artemis continued. “The Olympian Council was informed of the contents of this prophecy, then sworn to silence on the Styx. But it has come to our attention that there is… a larger force at work here. We must act quickly if we are to stand a fighting chance.” 

Larger force . The phrase lingered in the air above the table for a moment before Nico asked the buzzer question. “What’s the prophecy?” 

Annabeth recited it from where she had it written on a piece of paper. 

“Crowns fall to ash as the staggering one comes near with the poet’s words.

Behold the kingdoms - if those warnings are heeded, new kings build anew.

With destiny in hand, at the break of the dawn, death will meet the stars.”

There was silence as everyone processed. “That sounds fun,” Connor Stoll muttered from beside Sherman Yang. 

“What do we know already?” Rachel said, who had pulled a legal pad towards her and copied the whole thing in messy handwriting. Down to business, as always. 

“Poet’s words,” Percy said immediately, and Piper could see his face darken. “Is in reference to Hesiod and his predictions for the end of the Iron Age.” 

Chiron’s hoof clopped uncomfortably. From where his head was turned awkwardly to fit in the low ceiling of the rec room, he looked both worried and curious. “A set of criteria for Zeus to destroy humankind. I assume some have been met, yes?”

Percy nodded. “My mortal sister. She was born with gray hair.” 

Piper was absolutely lost, as was everyone else at the table. But Chiron turned to Artemis, who nodded solemnly. “Demarus is obligated by oath to report to Zeus. He knows.” 

“Wait,” Sherman Yang said, holding his hands up for a time out. “Zeus is going to destroy the world? As in, genocide?” His gaze sought out Artemis and Dionysus, who exchanged a wary look. They were a strange pair, Piper decided. But, then again, they were half-siblings. Everyone else at the table seemed to read the look as a resounding ‘yes’. 

“Are you serious?” Thalia leaned forward. Her face was twisted in horror. “This is… He’s going to kill us all? Why?” 

The news that the world could end any day now hadn’t really sunk in yet. Piper supposed it had to do with the fact that she had faced her own demise not two hours ago, and the feeling hadn’t really worn off yet. Piper supposed it was different for Thalia. Zeus was her father, after all, same as Artemis and Dionysus. If Artemis was right, and there was a limited timeline set aside for the end of the world, and your own father was the perpetrator… Piper didn’t like to think. 

Artemis bowed her head in a little concession. “The prophecy speaks of a staggering one that approaches, and with it, brings destruction of kings and kingdoms. Zeus would like to avoid that possibility at all cost.” 

“He’d be defying the Fates,” Malcolm Pace frowned. “How is he planning on doing that?” Artemis’ eyes lingered on Will for a moment, but she could only shake her head and shrug. 

“That monster that chased me,” Piper remembered all of a sudden. “You called it unsteady .” 

“It was an incorrect guess,” Artemis admitted. 

Lou Ellen from the Hecate cabin beckoned Rachel’s copy of the prophecy over. “Do we know what the rest of this means?” she asked. 

Dionysus snorted, drawing attention to himself for the first time that evening. “Look at that prophecy and tell me it makes any sense.” 

Piper couldn’t help but think about what Apollo would say if he were here. From beside Lou Ellen, Will Solace looked like he was wondering the same thing. 

“So what’s the plan?” Jake Mason from the Hephaestus cabin leaned forward and glared over at Artemis and Dionysus. “I assume that’s why you’re here. What are we supposed to do? Kill Zeus ?” He said it mockingly, but Dionysus looked like he’d been considering it. 

“Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait,” Percy said from the Iris Message, a manic glint in his eyes and a crazed grin on his face that would have scared Piper if she didn’t know him. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want us to help you kill Zeus?”

Artemis and Dionysus exchanged one more glance, then nodded in unison. 

Uproar around the table. People were laughing, others gasping, and some looking like dead fish, with their faces slack in shock. Frank and Hazel had matching expressions of dumbfounded amazement and disbelief through the Iris Message. 

“That’s insane,” Miranda Gardiner muttered. “It’ll get us all killed.” 

“We’ll all be dead anyways if we don’t do something ,” Lou Ellen snapped back. “There’s no possible way to be passive about this.” 

Personally, Piper was all for the idea. “Kill or be killed,” she said, and Lou Ellen nodded towards her in a show of solidarity. Damien White, son of Nemesis, pounded his fist on the table in agreement.

Sherman slapped a hand on the table. “I say we go for it.” More arguing broke out. Clovis, son of Hypnos, was under the impression that if they played nice with Zeus, everything would be fine. Pollux laughed derisively in his face, earning a proud look from Dionysus. 

Malcolm Pace called for another time out. Leaning towards the center of the table and raising his voice to be heard above the chatter, he addressed Artemis again. “How many gods would be in agreement? How much help could we expect?”

Artemis snorted. “Athena’s spawn, yes?” She sighed. “It is difficult to know at the moment. Some gods could be persuaded, if not for the lives of their mortal children and lovers, then for displeasure with Zeus’ rule. Or out of loyalty to whichever god is chosen to lead this endeavor. There are obvious choices already.” 

Looks flitted about the room. Obvious choices? To Piper, and seemingly everyone else, whichever god was most opposed to Zeus’ rule was only really apparent to the gods, and not their demigod children.

Will Solace spoke up for the first time. “It was my dad’s idea, wasn’t it?” 

Artemis nodded, but Piper couldn’t help but be a little surprised. Had Apollo really been planning to overthrow Zeus behind their backs? There had only been a year where he had been a god again and actively involved in the lives of his mortal friends, but she had never really been under the impression that he had any drastic revolution-style plans up his sleeve. The cocked heads and confused looks around the table reflected her sentiments, but the only people who didn’t look shocked to hear this news were Will, and when Piper looked towards the Iris Message, Jerry. Apollo’s own children. 

Dionysus scoffed. “Got him grounded , didn’t it?” 

Will nodded and addressed the table. “I thought so. We,” he gestured towards himself and Jerry, so Piper assumed he was speaking about his siblings in general, “have all been having this recurring dream about what happened when Jerry became the augur. We don’t know the conversation he had with Zeus, but he’s been locked in the Sun Palace ever since, so I guessed…” 

He trailed off and Piper felt a pang of sympathy. Having been living in Oklahoma for the past few years, relatively excluded from the demigod world unless she made the long trek to either camp, she hadn’t really gotten to see Apollo interact with his children to fully understand how Will felt. She couldn’t really imagine what it was like - she knew Apollo had been involved in the lives of his children even before he had fallen as a mortal, and his time as Lester had brought them closer, especially after his return. She imagined this recurring dream Will was talking about made dealing with his absence harder, especially now, knowing that Apollo was gone for trying to save their lives from Zeus and his genocidal tendencies. 

Artemis’ eyes were sad as her gaze shifted between her nephews, but her voice was flat and emotionless. “He is under heavy surveillance on the order of our father. He is allowed contact with nobody.” Will sagged a little, clearly hoping for another answer.

Artemis met the gaze of everyone in the room. “What do you say?” she asked. “Your lives are on the line, I suggest you put thought into this.” 

Frank piped up from the Iris Message. “We’ll have to speak to the Senate,” he said, exchanging a glance with Hazel. He smiled. “But I think you can count us in.” 

“Us, too.” Percy and Annabeth nodded. 

Slowly, assent filled the room. Of the seventeen cabins represented by counselors, there were no outright ‘nays’, but three initially abstained: Malcolm Pace took some convincing from Annabeth to change his vote to ‘aye’, and Clovis and Miranda Gardiner still wanted to find a peaceful solution. 

Only Thalia was left, idly picking her nails as she listened to the conversations around her. Piper elbowed her, and she looked up to see everyone around the table anticipating her response. 

“Oh, it’s my turn?” She snorted. “Like I was going to say ‘no’?” She grabbed Piper’s hand and met her gaze full on. “For Jason.” 

“Just out of curiosity,” Nico sat forward and addressed Artemis. “How are we even having this conversation right now? Either you’re hiding us, or Zeus just isn’t paying attention. Why haven’t we been blasted to smithereens by now?”

“Because nobody has seen Zeus for three days,” she replied matter-of-factly. 

There was silence as people processed this and Nico grimaced. “Ah.” 

“Yes,” Artemis continued. “Which means whatever he has planned will go into action sooner rather than later. For now, we wait until that plan becomes clear.” She and Chiron exchanged another wary look. “My Hunters should be here soon.”

Chiron nodded, and people started standing up, sensing an end to the meeting. “I will alert former campers. I do not like to think how Zeus will twist them against us if we are not bound together.” 

People started listing names: Clarisse La Rue and Chris Rodriguez were fresh college graduates, living together in Arizona. Travis Stoll and Butch Walker were among the number of demigods currently at other schools strewn across the country. Meg McCaffrey and a half dozen other demigods lived in Palm Springs. Leo Valdez, Calypso, and a couple other names of note lived at the Waystation. Will and Jerry had a sister in Washington. 

Piper watched, suspicious, as Percy and Annabeth stuck their heads together and exchanged hushed words. Nico leaned behind Will and muttered something to Chiron, who waved him off with a whispered ‘later’. 

“Do not tell the others just yet,” he said to the group at large as they made their way back out, to where dinner was occurring without them. “Until we know more.”

Rebellion mingled with a renewed energy in the dining pavilion. As promised, the Hunters arrived a little while later, and Reyna greeted Piper first. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, drawing Piper’s blanket around her even tighter after squeezing her tight.

“Ugh. I’m fine,” Piper muttered, smiling all the same. 

“Okay.” Reyna gave her an encouraging smile and joined Thalia and the others at Artemis’ table. Artemis herself sat at the high table, conversing with Dionysus, who was gesturing wildly. Piper couldn’t catch what was being said as she passed towards the Aphrodite table, but it didn’t look like anything revolution-related as Artemis’ eyebrows crept towards her hairline and Chiron smothered a laugh. 

Despite the fact that nearly two dozen of the people in the vicinity knew there was a high chance they were all going to either die at Zeus’ hand or fight tooth and nail to live, Piper saw nothing but smiles. Piper felt, if anything, glad to know that they had a fighting chance, and even more appreciative of the fact that they had at least two gods on their side. She bet the others felt the same. 

Drew shot her a glare as she sat down and pulled the remnants of a platter towards her, but didn’t say anything. Lacy, though, gave her a side hug from her spot next to her on the bench. 

All was well, for now. No lightning bolts threatened to spill death and destruction from the skies, and Piper was very much not dead. Sure, she might have nightmares of trees turning into terrifying wolf-men that spoke in prophecy, but for now, she ate and listened to Lacy talk about her classmates. 

All was well.

Until the Big House exploded. 

Chapter Text

The force of the blast threw Piper straight out of her chair and onto her back. Her lungs spasmed, devoid of air from the fall. She was only vaguely aware of the uncomfortable heat licking at her face as she valiantly tried to breathe, the cold grass tickling at the back of her exposed neck. There was an incessant ringing in her ears. 

Dazed, she sat up, chest still heaving. What she saw was chaos. She had been pretty sure it was just the Big House that had exploded, but everything else was on fire now, too. Smoke burned at her eyes as she looked around, going dizzy from the circling pounding of running feet.

She turned to face the cabins, but she saw nothing but a burning ring of fire. The tinny sound faded, and was replaced by the roaring of the flames, screams of pain, and yells for friends and siblings. That, and a terrible growling and screeching from above her. 

Piper’s thoughts immediately flew back to the wolfish monsters that had chased her earlier, but she looked up and saw something else that pulled a muted yell of horror from her. A giant, undulating mass of scales, muscles, and two massive, leathery wings towered over the camp. Two clawed feet the size of  pickup trucks slammed down on the grass  on either side of the pavilion as the monster landed, its long, snake-like body hanging twenty feet above her head. Against the moonlight, she could see its head: a serpentine thing, with two spiraling horns hanging low and curling to the ground. 

She felt two strong hands yanking her to her feet, and she could do nothing but run, hand-in-hand with Reyna, Thalia tight behind them, shooting useless arrows one after the other. 

“Wha-”

“I don’t know,” Reyna hushed her, as they paused for a moment, safely out of trampling distance. Piper turned and saw Camp Half-Blood, every single building up in flames. Campers were either running, grabbing weapons, or cowering behind each other, not knowing what to do. Several body-sized lumps littered the grass, and Piper quickly excused them from her mind. 

The body of the snake monster was long and hideously brown, its scaly length stretching all the way through camp to the waves of the Long Island Sound. It seemed to go on for miles. 

Reyna and Thalia desperately searched through the chaos for Artemis and their sisters, waving at two silver-clad girls running along a path to their right. “Hunter! Parthenos!” 

Briefly confused before Piper realized that Hunter and Parthenos were people, she saw other Hunters (the group, not the light-haired girl who was now sprinting towards them) pulling out weapons and yelling orders to each other and campers. 

There was a resounding gong-like sound and a flash of silver light as Artemis fought the monster with her arrows. The ground swelled and broke around dark, grasping vines that wrapped around the body of the creature; Dionysus fighting alongside his half-sister. The monster bellowed and stomped, and more monsters, smaller miniature versions of this one, started slithering up from the banks of the Sound. There must have been at least three dozen. 

From Piper’s position, she could see that not every building was on fire - just the cabins, which twisted her stomach uncomfortably. She saw one building, the armory, tucked behind the Athena cabin, untouched by the fire coming from the cabin, but threatened all the same. 

She took off at a run, Reyna calling her back, which she ignored. Her muscles protested, and the smoke stung at her eyes and made her cough, but she reached the armory before the flames reached it. 

“What are you doing?” Reyna hissed as Piper rummaged through the shelves. Thalia wasn’t behind her.

“That monster from before destroyed Katroptis,” she muttered before fishing out what she had been looking for. Pulling a pump-action shotgun from a pile of other firearms, she grabbed several boxes of Celestial Bronze shells and shoved them into her pockets and the waistband of her pants. 

“Ah,” Reyna muttered, then followed her lead and started scooping up whatever weapons she could find. With fumbling fingers, Piper emptied out a quiver (before shoving the extra arrows in other half-full quivers, she wasn’t a barbarian) and stuck whatever smaller weapons she could inside and slung it over her shoulder. 

Reyna called out a warning as smoke started filling the back corner, the side closest to the Athena cabin. The fire had reached them. “Are there explosives in here?” Reyna squeaked as they turned tail and hustled out, arms full of swords, spears, bows, quivers, and the like. 

“I’d love to not find out,” Piper grunted as she tried to run somewhat gracefully with her arm full of sharp objects.

She found out. Not three seconds later, the force of yet another explosion threw her flat on her face. 

“Ow,” she muttered as she tried to stand up. Weapons were scattered around her from where they had tumbled from her arms. Thankfully, nothing had impaled her. Double checking the same had been true of Reyna, she gathered what she could from on her knees. 

A new set of hands grabbed a sword and swept it up towards Piper’s head. She yelped, ducking, and was showered by a rain of blood. “What the-”

A guy stood in front of her, the dripping sword still in his hands, the head of a monster at his feet. Behind her was the shriveling body of one of the miniature snake-things, slowly dying like a trail of falling dominoes. “Sorry,” he muttered shyly, then reached down and started picking up the weapons that had been strewn around her. “Sorry, I-”

“Save it,” Reyna snapped, head bowed as she painstakingly replaced the arrows from a spilled quiver. “Piper says thanks.”

“Thanks,” Piper muttered at the kid, who she had only just recognized as Shane, one of Leo’s siblings.

He beckoned over a pretty girl with a freckled face and a long sheet of blonde hair to come over and help: Gracie, one of Apollo’s kids. She grabbed one of the extra bows and a quiver from the pile, and covered them as Piper loaded up the shotgun. She readied it and ran back up the hill, with the forest to their right, the burning cabins and the rest of camp to their left, the ruins of the Big House dead ahead. 

Piper couldn’t see the battle through the smoke and fire, but she could hear it: screeching, screaming, the sound of scraping metal on metal, and the occasional sound of arrows made of moonlight scorching through the air. Artemis was still fighting, but Piper couldn’t figure out where Dionysus would be. 

It was chaos. Feet ran in every direction, nobody knowing where to go, what to do. Monsters lunged out at them from the darkness, teeth or claws or fangs all bared and dripping with saliva, blood, poison, or some concoction of all three. As they reached the top of the hill, Piper could only see glimpses of the beach of the Long Island Sound, where more and more monsters were crawling from the depths: dog-sized hybrids with scaly bodies and front legs of felines, bird-footed lions with wings made of lightning, and several creatures that looked like grotesque combinations of bulls and humans. 

Piper’s stomach roiled as she watched swarms of monsters claw their way through the sand and trampled each other to be the first to hurl a camper to the ground, or snap a bronze sword clean in half. The mile-long snake stomped through camp, bellowing in pain and fury as Dionysus lunged up out of the darkness, vines curling up from the ground beneath him. The thick, green ropes spread and multiplied, grabbing the snake’s head from its ringleted horns and forcing it to bow where it strained to no avail. Piper felt a swell of hope as she watched Dionysus struggling to hold on to the creature, before a wayward leg whipped out of nowhere and sent him flying dozens of meters away towards the forest.
“Oh, my gods,” Reyna muttered as the vines snapped and the creature’s head flung back up into the sky. The ground beneath them shook as it loosed a guttural, thundering roar, and the swarm of hundreds of monsters beneath its feet howled and cried out in reply. 

The sky above them shattered into near-blinding light as a thousand lightning bolts tore across the night sky. The sound that followed was deafening, and Piper’s hands over her ears did nothing to stop the ringing that followed. Dazed and eyes spotting from the sudden light, Piper stumbled sideways into Gracie, who braced her with an equally blind hand.

“What in Asphodel-” 

They were interrupted as Chiron came galloping down the valley before them, his bow raised in the air and his voice trembling, but loud and strong all the same. “To the Labyrinth! Rendezvous at Camp Jupiter!” 

“Good plan,” Reyna breathed and readied her bow again, looking down at the camp below them through the fire, smoke, and flashing lightning. The monsters hadn’t noticed them standing on the top of the hill, just yet, but it was only a matter of time. 

“It feels like the end of the world,” Gracie muttered from beside Shane, who gently grabbed her hand. 

Piper realized she was the only one who knew that Gracie was probably right. She’d had her reservations about blaming this on Zeus when Big House first exploded, but with the renewed lightning flashing through the air every few seconds, followed almost immediately every time by an earth-shattering round of thunder, she had no more doubts. This was Zeus, trying to kill them. 

Shane twisted around for a moment. “We should grab the Fleece,” he said suddenly. “While we still have time.”
“Good thinking,” Reyna said, and they took off at a run. Piper’s lungs, full of smoke, were protesting by the time they reached what used to be Thalia’s tree, but what they found made her gasp and cough at the effort. 

Peleus the dragon was supposed to be guarding the Golden Fleece - he had done so for years now, even before Piper had arrived at camp. 

Clearly, he had failed. The ground around the tree was smoking, flames ebbing away as the grass burned itself out. The smell of burning flesh stung at Piper’s nose, and tears stung her eyes, not just from the smoke anymore.

Peleus’ head sat three meters away from his body, and the Golden Fleece had been ripped to shreds, fluttering in the slight wind and torn beyond recognition. Piper didn’t need to get closer to know that it wouldn’t work anymore. It had lost its golden aura and the energy and sense of power that she used to feel from it was gone. 

The world, while still up in flames around them, seemed to go quiet as Gracie seemed to float over, and rested a hand on Peleus’ great snout. 

“We gotta go,” Reyna called her back, readying her bow again. Gracie reluctantly joined them, and did the same with her own bow. 

They turned back the way they had come, empty-handed, heavy-hearted, and fear-addled. The forest wasn’t far from the tree, but they would still have to traverse through the now monster-infested camp to get to it. 

Piper jogged behind Reyna, and in front of Gracie and Shane. Her shotgun was at the ready, but she was careful not to give away their position by shooting it. As they passed through the camp, it looked like they were some of the last people left - everyone else must have beat them to the forest. 

Gracie lingered back for a moment, gazing behind her at the flames. Shane hissed for her to follow. They were almost upon the treeline, and Piper knew the entrance to the Labyrinth at Zeus’ fist was only a short walk inside. She also tried not to think of the irony in that - seeking refuge from Zeus at a place named after Zeus. 

Every snarl made her jump, every rustling sound shooting adrenaline straight into her veins. Her heart was beating too fast, she was sure the monsters would be able to hear it. Happy thoughts . 

Shel. Baby Chuck. Dad, their movie nights. Safe with Gleeson.

She took deep, steadying breaths. 

She checked behind her. 

Gracie and Shane were gone. The ground behind her, where they had been following by five feet, glittered with fresh blood. 

It was only thanks to Reyna’s hand over her mouth that she didn’t scream. Their eyes met. The Labyrinth. Cry later. 

Piper’s world was nothing but panic. The trees seemed to close in over her. Her breaths were coming too fast, and those familiar goosebumps crawled up her legs. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her hands were white-knuckled on the shotgun. Zeus’ fist loomed above them as they reached the clearing, and Piper nearly sobbed with relief. 

Footsteps behind her pulled a real cry from her this time, and she turned, raising the shotgun, finger on the trigger, ready to shoot. Reyna raised her bow and poised, also prepared to strike.

Dionysus stumbled through a thicket of trees out of the darkness. His face was battered and dirty, and his nose was bleeding. 

The look on his face worried Piper, because she didn’t think a god should ever have that kind of fear on his face. Sure, he was staring down the barrel of a shotgun, but there was only so much damage a Celestial Bronze bullet could do to an Olympian.

That was when she realized that his blood was red. 

Chapter Text

Sometimes, when Thalia would look at Artemis, all she would see was a dusty safe. There was some part of her mistress that had been carefully tucked away for thousands of years. And more than Thalia wondered what was inside, she wondered when, or if ever, it had been opened. 

Even now, as they huddled in the dark tunnels of the Labyrinth, mere hours after evacuating camp, with Artemis’ blood leaking through the hasty bandage and staining the cloth a deep red, the goddess still did not break. Not a crack showed through her cold and stony demeanor. 

Thalia felt like the world had turned on its head - Artemis was more mortal than she was now. And Thalia had some feeling, a vague twisting of her stomach that lifted its head and, tasting the air, declared firmly that this was not a fluke. 

Artemis was not open to conversation; she had blown off Thalia and Parthenos both when they asked if she was alright, suspecting together that her mind must be reeling with shock, fear, or whatever else goddesses feel when their immortality is stripped away. The only person she had allowed to touch her had been Will Solace, who, with fumbling fingers, had treated the injury on her arm. Thalia had thought of his father, reminded by Will’s actions and looks, and wondered if that was the reason Artemis had let him come close. 

Will lit the path ahead of them, hands glowing softly and lighting their way. Nico di Angelo lingered behind him, his own sword illuminating the tunnel walls with rippling purple. Parthenos walked side-by-side with Artemis, but they exchanged no words. Thalia was at the rear. She had put away her Aegis replica, but still carried her spear, where the Celestial Bronze tip glowed a dim lightning-white. 

She vaguely considered snapping it in two for the crime of being associated with her father. But she had run out of arrows, lost one hunting knife, and damaged the other. She would snap it later. She also decided she would deal with Zeus’ betrayal later. No need to linger over that now, when surviving and likewise keeping Artemis alive should be at the top of her priority list. 

Will was doing his best to keep the mood light by striking up a conversation with Parthenos - they had lost any sign of friendly souls an hour ago, and the weight of solitude threatened to crush them as they kept the goal of Camp Jupiter and safety in mind. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said to her. 

Unlike some other Hunters, Parthenos was friendly enough to deign him a reply. Shrugging, she twitched her arrow in its nocked position on her bowstring. “The Hunters are rarely all gathered in one place.” There was something lingering there, probably to do with the fact that, in any normal circumstances, Artemis would be able to split her essence to be with all groups at once. That particular comment remained unspoken. 

But Artemis spoke up for the first time in a while. “Parthenos is one of my oldest companions. While Thalia remains by my side as lieutenant, Parthenos is my first captain, and leads where I do not.”  

Thalia supposed Artemis was just grateful for the change in conversation. If their positions were exchanged, she, too, would want nothing more than to take her mind off what was at hand. She wondered if Parthenos would understand better, though, based on her age, which Will had just asked. 

Parthenos blew a strand of hair away from her face where it had come loose from the confines of her hat. “Old,” she snorted. “Younger than Artemis, of course, but that’s a low bar.” 

“How did you become a Hunter?”

Parthenos huffed. “Your father, actually.” She eyed Will and vaguely waved a hand over his person. “That is, I’m assuming your father is Apollo… based on the glowy, healing, sunny-boy thing you’ve got going on.” 

Nico snorted, and Thalia couldn’t help but snicker as well. Even Artemis cracked the tiniest of smiles. 

Parthenos shrugged, smiling softly, and continued. “Not much to it. My father was a raging drunk and tried to have me and my sister executed for breaking his best amphorae . Apollo was the one to hear our prayers, turned us immortal, and then we joined the Hunt.” 

Nico’s face morphed into realization. “You’re Emmie’s sister, aren’t you?”

“M’hm,” Parthenos nodded. “Haven’t seen her in a while, though. I hear she’s been collecting more inhabitants than usual.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Thalia said, remembering the Waystation and the home of Emmie, Jo, their daughter Georgina, Leo Valdez, Calypso (though, last she had heard, Calypso and Leo had called off their relationship), and a myriad of other souls. “I wonder if that Yoruba demigod still lives there.” 

“Yoruba?” Parthenos asked, twisting around in sudden interest. “Can’t say I’ve met a demigod from another pantheon before. Besides Roman, obviously.” 

“We’ve seen a couple,” Nico gestured between himself and Will. “We think they were Egyptian demigods.” 

“That does not exist,” Artemis corrected him quietly. “Egyptian gods do not walk among mortals the same as other gods. They reside in a dimension called the Duat, and take mortal hosts, occasionally.” 

“I never even considered the possibility that there could be other pantheons,” Will muttered. “Much less interdimensional gods.” 

Other pantheons. Thalia couldn’t help but remember the conversation she had had with Apollo about Olujime, the aforementioned Yoruba demigod. “The longer you live, the weirder the world gets,” she said, quoting him from all those years ago. 

“But we never hear about them,” Nico wondered aloud. “Is there a reason?” he turned to ask Artemis. 

She seemed to be weighing her words, then gave up as she realized she didn’t have much to lose. “Zeus always feared what would happen if a war occurred between pantheons.” She paused, mouth pursed. “It is my understanding that the demigods remain separated to decrease the chances of conflict.” 

Like the Greeks and Romans, Thalia thought. Although, it was probably harder to keep them separate if the gods were technically in both pantheons. 

Nico was eying Artemis from over his shoulder. She sighed. “Yes?”

“Did those Egyptian magicians ever make it to the Council?” 

Thalia’s noise of confusion slipped from her throat without a second thought. She tried to stifle it with a cough. 

Artemis shot her a quizzical look, but answered both Nico and Thalia at the same time. “Several magicians, of which one was the Pharaoh, stood before the Council and asked for an alliance of sorts.”

“Why?” Parthenos asked.

“War,” Artemis said shortly. “My father refused them.”

“Unsurprisingly,” Thalia muttered. 

The conversation dimmed, the light of distraction fleeting. They continued on down the tunnels and caves in relative silence afterwards. Every shuffle or rock falling sent a shock of anxiety shooting up Thalia’s spine. In the dark of the Labyrinth, every shadow looked like a terrible winged snake, or a crowned wolf-dog. 

Their chosen tunnel began to slowly slope upwards. Thalia felt the ache in her legs, despite her Hunter’s blessing that normally provided her with increased strength. She could only imagine how Will and Nico were feeling, but her gaze was immediately drawn to a sight she had never seen before, and would do anything to never see again: Artemis’ brow was beading with sweat. Her gut roiled as she tore her eyes away, noting the uncomfortable look on Artemis’ face as her weaknesses were put on such plain display. 

As the tunnel lightened above them, sunlight threatened to blind her. “I hate jet lag,” she muttered, knowing that her sleep schedule would be thrown off yet again by the time-warping of the Labyrinth. Her mind drifted off to bitter thoughts of how lucky mortals must be to be able to avoid jet lag unless they flew in airplanes, which Thalia would gladly take over a nerve-wracking trip through the Labyrinth. And considering her fear of heights, that was saying something. 

Artemis, though her face was carefully wiped clean of all reaction and emotion, looked immediately more relaxed in the midday sunlight. She gazed up into the sky, searching for some indication of how long they had been in the Labyrinth. 

Thalia surveyed her surroundings. “This is… the middle of nowhere.” Turning around, she couldn’t even find the entrance to the Labyrinth - it had been obscured by tan, waist-high grasses that stretched as far as the eye could see. The sky above was covered by a thick sheet of clouds. There was absolutely nothing around. No buildings, no trees. Just grass , broken only by the line of gray that was the sky. “Well, this sucks.” 

They paused to rest for a while. Artemis and Parthenos wandered away and came back an hour later with a couple fat rodents, and Thalia set up a fire. The temperature was warmer than it had been in New York, so she wondered if they might be somewhere in the American midwest. 

She watched Nico as he stepped away for a few minutes. Will watched along with her, eying Nico as he crouched and pressed a flat hand to the dry earth. When he stood up again, his eyes were sad. 

Thalia, Parthenos, and Artemis all watched as Nico beckoned Will away from the fire and guided him about a hundred feet away, muttering and consoling all the while. Will started to cry, and Thalia looked away, not wanting to intrude, while panic flared up in her stomach. 

Someone was dead, she was sure of it. Someone Will was close to. A friend? A sibling? Apollo himself? Someone she knew, or a stranger?

Will was sniffling and wiping his eyes as they returned about fifteen minutes later. The women all looked to Nico for some sort of explanation. 

“His sister is dead,” he muttered softly, gently cradling Will’s hands in his. “Gracie.”

Thalia felt a little guilty for not knowing the name. Artemis, however, surprised her. “The blonde one?” she asked, and when Nico nodded, she leaned forward to Will. “Your father told me about her. He said she had a beautiful voice.” 

Artemis didn’t touch Will as he tried to stifle fresh tears, but he gave her a watery smile in thanks nonetheless. 

A small mercy was that the sun set not soon after, and they decided to camp out in the field for the night. Despite the exhaustion she knew Artemis must be feeling, if the jelly-like feeling of her own legs was any indication, Artemis staunchly refused to even sit down. 

Artemis pulled Nico aside not long after Will had fallen asleep. “The other gods,” she demanded. “Are they mortal as well? Can you tell?”

Nico paused, and pressed a bare hand down to the cold-hardened soil. “I can sense… Yes . Dionysus is mortal. Same with… Ares and Hermes. More, but I can’t tell who.” 

“Are they alive?” she hissed. Nico nodded, not dead . 

“Poseidon.” Not dead. 

“Athena.” Not dead.

“Apollo?” Nico didn’t know. 

Satisfied for the time being, she freed him to sleep, then turned her gaze to the star-littered sky. “We were in the Labyrinth for four days,” she muttered within a few seconds of staring. 

Thalia scoffed - that would have taken her several minutes to figure out. “What’s the plan?”

“Continue on to Camp Jupiter,” Artemis replied. She pointed in the direction that the sun had set. “I suspect we are not far.” 

Thalia wondered what awaited them at New Rome when they arrived, questions swirling through her mind and barring her from sleep. Would her father be there? How many Hunters had survived the disasters of the events at Camp Half-Blood? Was the entire pantheon mortal now, too? Had Zeus figured out Artemis and Dionysus’ plan to overthrow him, and turned them mortal just to kill them? Or… was something else moving in the shadows, unseen?

Despite her agitated mind, Thalia’s sleep was dreamless that night. No visions awaited her in the darkness of her mind. Whatever power had given them to her and every other demigod she knew was gone now, and somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if they would ever visit her again. 

Chapter Text

Pain flashed through her broken arm with every thudding footstep. Hugging it close to her body, she hurried, quietly as possible, through the tree-ridden grounds towards the tunnel. Artemis and Parthenos, thankful uninjured, provided cover for her, Will, and Nico as the entrance to Camp Jupiter came into sight. 

The human-scorpion hybrids had been chasing them for the better part of an hour, now. They were the size of children, but had terrible arachnoid legs and massive stingers that reached up into the air another full body length. Their faces were covered in a fleshy armor and beady eyes blinked out from behind spiked red faceplates. 

One had missed Thalia by a few inches with a well-aimed strike from its stinger, but she had stumbled and fallen down a ravine with an unfortunate collection of large stones at the bottom. 

Now, she held her bruised and bloody arm with her good arm that was also clutching her only remaining weapon. Running with knives probably wasn’t a great idea, but it was either that or let go of her arm, which felt like it might fall off if it moved unnecessarily. 

The three of them burst out of the trees. The service entrance of Caldecott Tunnel was only a hundred feet away, and Thalia thought it might be too good to be true that they all survived relatively unscathed as Artemis and Parthenos followed close behind. 

The guards at the entrance of the tunnel perked up instantly as they saw them coming. Dressed in traditional Roman armor, they raised their arms in greeting, then raised their weapons as they saw the monsters approaching. 

Thalia had just reached the safety of the tunnel, opened to allow them in by the legionnaire on the right, but a rustle from the trees made her turn around. 

“Ah,” the other legionnaire muttered, and hefted up an enormous crossbow and aimed at the approaching monster. 

This new monster was a giant version of the others, and its main body would tower over Thalia if she were standing closer. Its stinger looked like a shadow in the sky above as it emerged from the treeline, where the stinger brushed at the topmost branches. Its miniatures scurried around its feet. 

The legionnaire hefted up the loaded crossbow as Artemis and Parthenos made it to the tunnel. Artemis eyed the young woman and the crossbow. “You’re going to miss.” 

“How would you know?” the legionnaire snapped, squinting one eye closed, not even bothering to look at Artemis. 

“Do not argue, child. Give me the manubalista.” 

“Wha-” the legionnaire started, then eyed Artemis. Some of her previous divinity must have shown, because the legionnaire blinked rapidly for a moment, then obediently handed it over. 

The manubalista looked like it should have dwarfed Artemis, but she was clearly stronger than she looked, even with her drastic decrease in physical strength. 

Thalia eyed the biggest monster. It hadn’t moved, and watched Artemis curiously as she aimed. Her aim was true, and the bolt landed heavily in its chest. 

“That’s unfortunate,” Parthenos muttered, because the monster didn’t even react, just kept staring curiously at the party crowded in the mouth of the tunnel. Slowly, it turned around and retreated back into the shadows of the forest, its miniatures doing the same. 

“You don’t say,” Nico said. He grabbed Will’s wrist and guided him further into the tunnel. 

Artemis wordlessly gave the legionnaire back the weapon, and followed them. The legionnaires both watched her go, and the one carrying the crossbow set it down on the ground and removed her helmet, revealing a strangely recognizable shock of bubble-gum pink hair framing wide-eyes and a thin face.

She pointed at Thalia, then Artemis, and her mouth formed a little ‘o’ as she did the math. Clearly, she recognized her, but hadn’t necessarily been expecting an ex-goddess to commandeer her weapon after being chased from a forest by mutant scorpions. “That’s Diana.” she muttered, mostly to herself.  

“Yep,” Parthenos said, then shouldered her bow and followed. 

The girl instructed the other legionnaire to continue guarding the tunnel, saying she would send someone else out. 

“Yes, centurion.” 

The girl who was somehow a centurion followed them, her long jacket flowing behind her. Her SPQR tattoos were covered by the sleeves, so Thalia couldn’t tell who her godly parent might be. 

“Um, you’re Thalia Grace,” she said, holding out a hand to shake after cumbersomely slinging the huge crossbow over her shoulder and stumbling a bit with the weight. “I don’t know if you remember me, it’s been a while. The Battle of San Francisco Bay a couple years ago? Tarquin’s Tomb?”

“Right,” Thalia said, remembering where she had seen the girl before. “La… Lavender?”

“Lavinia,” the girl corrected, then retreated her hand once she realized Thalia’s arm was broken. 

The end of the tunnel came into sight, but Artemis paused at the mouth and did not approach further. 

“Centurion Asimov,” she called, beckoning Lavinia up to stand at her side. “Tell me everything that has happened, quickly.” 

Lavinia started talking so fast Thalia had some trouble keeping up. 

“Same as you guys, we were attacked about a week ago, but we were able to fight off most of them. Then gods started showing up, all turned mortal like you. We’ve been getting Greek refugees the whole time, and Hazel and Frank are doing their best to keep track of the numbers: almost two dozen demigods from both camps are dead, another twenty are still missing, not counting you. Seven gods are dead, four injured, and thirteen unaccounted for. Reyna’s here, she’s done her best to account for all the Hunters. We’ve found three dead so far.” 

Artemis paused, allowing herself only a few seconds to grieve. “Which gods are here?”

“Most of the Council has arrived now. Mercury and Mars were some of the first, Bacchus arrived three days ago. The only one still missing is Apollo.”

“What about Jupiter?” Nico asked, subtly taking Will’s hand as the latter’s shoulders dropped infinitesimally at that last piece of news. 

“He’s here, too.”

“Mortal?” Thalia asked. 

Lavinia looked confused by the question. “Yes,” she nodded. 

Will and Nico exchanged a glance, and Thalia would bet her bow they were thinking the same thing as her. Artemis hummed. “Strange,” was all she said. 

“Sorry, why is that strange?” Lavinia asked as she hurried down the slope after them. 

“Why would Zeus turn himself mortal?” Will wondered aloud, somewhat ignoring her. 

“What are you talking ab-”

“Unless he didn’t. Unless there’s something else going on.” Thalia groaned and rubbed her face with the hand of her good arm, valiantly ignoring the twinge of the bad one.

Artemis held up a hand as the camp came into view, halting the entire party. She eyed Lavinia suspiciously. “We were under the impression that Jupiter was the one who prompted the attacks and turned all the gods mortal.”

Lavinia’s already large eyes widened. “Really?” She shook her head. “No, he showed up after the attack, but he seemed just as shocked as everyone else.”

“Who else did he arrive with?”

“Juno and Minerva, and some minor gods.” 

Artemis’ eyes narrowed, clearly trying to piece everything together. Apparently, she was unsuccessful, because she sighed heavily and glanced over at the camp beneath them. Turning back to the party, she shared eye contact with each of them in turn. “You say nothing of our suspicions. If Bacchus and Chiron are smart, they will have instructed the other councilors to do the same. Nothing to anyone until we know more. Understood?”

They all nodded and followed her down to the camp. 

New Rome, while it had survived the initial attack, had taken devastating blows. Quite a few of the buildings on Temple Hill had been turned to rubble, and Thalia could only wonder what had occurred to one large corner of red roofs below that still smoked. 

Will guided her through the camp towards the boundary that led to New Rome, Nico following at a distance and quietly taking in the damage. “We should get your arm checked out,” he said softly. Artemis waved them off, and she and Parthenos departed to where she saw several other big-name gods convened in the distance. 

The Camp Jupiter infirmary must have been destroyed in the battle, because Lavinia waved them over to a different area of the city. Passing the city line around New Rome, Thalia noticed a pile of rubble that used to stand where the boundary god Terminus used to sit on his plinth. A little girl of about ten stood beside the pile of crumbled white rock with tear-red eyes and her arms crossed firmly across her chest. Seeing them approach, she kicked forward a large plastic tub. “Weapons in here.”

Thalia begrudged her, awkwardly dropping her hunting knife inside the tub as she clutched her broken arm close to her body. Will apparently didn’t have any weapons on him, and Nico handed over his sword, eyes lingering on the girl with pity in his eyes. 

The city around them, as they passed over the remnants of the boundary, was clearly struggling. Thalia’s heart sank as she saw people of all ages trudging through the streets, carrying what little supplies they had to share. Thalia had been here before, and at this time of day there would be people bustling through the streets, buying lunch or greeting friends, and she wouldn’t have been able to hear someone standing three feet away from her.

Now, it was deadly quiet, despite the number of people around. Nobody spoke, nobody called for friends, everyone kept their heads down and their mouths shut. 

“This is awful,” Will muttered. 

“It’s been like this all week,” Lavinia nodded along. “We thought the gods arriving would help, but the Council has been shut away by Jupiter and most of the other gods won’t really interact with us.” 

Nico sighed. “Is my father here?”

“Um, yes, I think so. I heard he arrived with Proserpina three days ago.” 

Nico nodded, but didn’t leave just yet. “And Hazel?” 

“Has been stuck with damage control with Frank.” 

Thalia let her bitterness creep in for just a moment - there were gods present. Gods who should be using their knowledge and talent to be doing something. “Well, they're not powerless,” she said aloud, letting her temper get the best of her. “Shouldn’t the gods be helping the praetors instead of sitting around and being awkward?”

Lavinia’s big eyes blinked several times before she trained her eyes back on the ground, looking around awkwardly as if hoping nobody would hear her. “My mother didn’t even look at me when she arrived.”

Nico shook his head angrily, and Thalia wanted to do the same. “My dad wouldn’t allow this,” Will muttered, drawing Thalia’s attention. 

He looked angrily around, as if challenging anyone who would dare disagree. Rather, Thalia found herself doing the opposite. While she’d never really seen Apollo interacting with gods other than Artemis after he had regained his seat on Olympus, she couldn’t imagine him letting gods sit around and letting demigods do all the work. No, he’d be leading by example to get something done, whether it was rebuilding the city or finding out who had blindsided the gods and gotten dozens of people killed. Then probably gravely injure himself in the process, she thought. 

Her angry thoughts strayed to her own father, and to Jason. Jason would be leading the charge right beside Apollo, and their father… Well, if Jupiter’s previous habits had been any indication, he would be hard pressed to allow them to ‘interfere with the workings of the Fates’. Her musings trailed off as they reached the infirmary, and it was only then she let herself appreciate the consistent throbbing in her arm. 

The makeshift infirmary had been cobbled together in one of the last standing buildings on the street. Sheets had been drawn up between what looked like dorm beds from the university, and people were buzzing around. Medics, patients, and their friends hurried around carrying supplies, food, and the like. Thalia recognized the Camp Jupiter Head Healer, Pranjal, speaking to a tall man with curly salt-and-pepper hair in the corner, hovering over a prone patient. 

One young woman hurried towards them, a red piece of cloth tied around her right bicep to indicate her status as a healer. “Hello. It’s Thalia, isn’t it?”

Thalia nodded and let herself be guided over to an empty chair. 

“I’ll, uh, leave,” Lavinia mumbled. “Too clumsy for this.” Indeed, she had barely managed to avoid knocking over a tray of sterile tools. 

Nico gave Will a squeeze on the arm. “See you later, okay? I’m going to find Hazel. I’ll send any of your siblings over if I find them. Get some rest.” He leaned up, kissed him on the cheek, and fled. The room seemed a little lighter after he left, but Will dimmed noticeably. 

Will grabbed a spare red strip from the floor and started to tie it around his arm, but the girl held up a hand.

“You should rest first,” she said, eyeing him. “Healers are no use to others if they do not heal themselves first.”

Will’s brow furrowed, but Thalia grabbed his arm with her free one and gently tugged the cloth from his hands. “Okay,” he nodded. “But I’m staying with you.”

“Good,” she said, grateful for the excuse to not be alone. 

The girl hummed in assent, then examined Thalia’s arm, gently probing it every so often. “It’s broken,” she shrugged after a moment of pondering. 

Thalia scoffed against her better judgment at the obviousness of the statement. The girl glared at her before waving another girl over, also with a red cloth on her arm. 

“It’s broken,” the first girl grudgingly said to the other. 

The newcomer eyed Thalia’s arm. “No, duh. Anybody could have told you that.” 

The first girl bristled with anger, Thalia and her arm completely forgotten in the midst of the argument. “ Thank you for that,” she snarled. “Now do something about it.” 

“You do it, you admitted her. Your patient, your diagnosis, your treatment.” Will blinked in surprise, trying to intervene, but the girls ignored him. 

“You know the actual treatment isn’t my thing, Aceso,” the first girl snapped. “She’s not-”

“Girls, enough!” An older woman spoke over them from the corner. “Dear, please,” she said to the older man Thalia had noted earlier speaking to Pranjal. He walked over, waving the girls off. “Aceso, Aegle, please go somewhere that is not near each other,” he muttered, then sighed to Thalia as the girls backed off, sticking their tongues out at each other. “Terribly sorry about that. Aegle’s domain is over healthy people, so she’s really only good at telling you when you’re, well… not healthy.” 

Thalia blinked for a moment. The girls… were goddesses? And the man… 

“Oh,” Will muttered. “You’re Asclepius.” 

Asclepius nodded and extended a hand to Will. “That makes us brothers, I suppose. You’re Will Solace, yes?”

“I- yeah.” 

“Dad visited before all this began, he said a few things about you.” 

Will blinked in pleased surprise as Asclepius leaned down to examine Thalia’s arm, then did some complicated medical stuff that Thalia didn’t understand, but seemed to interest Will enough. He asked questions every so often, and Asclepius happily answered all of them with equal enthusiasm. Thalia didn’t comprehend a word of it. 

“It was a nasty break, but you have an advanced healing factor, so you should be fully recovered in ten days,” Asclepius was saying when Thalia zoned back in and looked down at her lightly bandaged arm. “Come back then, alright?” 

She nodded, and Asclepius hurried away to another after bidding Will goodbye. Aceso and Aegle were arguing again over another patient and the older woman who Thalia could only assume was their mother and Asclepius’ wife was doing her best to resolve the argument. 

Will looked happier than he had been in days, what with the destruction of Camp Half-Blood and Gracie dying. 

“You’ve never met him before?” she asked, wanting to let him linger in his good mood before the world came crashing back down on his shoulders again. 

“No,” he shook his head. “Zeus has had him imprisoned in Greece for a really long time. You know, the Physician’s Cure, and all that. I only wonder how he got out…”

“Maybe the enchantments Zeus was using to imprison him there died when he became mortal,” Thalia offered. 

Will digested that for a moment, then something akin to hope flashed in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.” 

As they wandered back through New Rome, Thalia wondered what he was thinking about that kept the light from fading in his eyes just yet. She bumped his shoulder with his as she realized what it was: Will was hoping that the same was true for Apollo, and that if Zeus’ imprisonment enchantments were dead, Apollo was on his way. 

“We should hang out more, after all this,” she said. Assuming there’s a world to hang out in . 

Chapter Text

A week had passed - the world hadn’t turned to dust yet, and Apollo was still missing. It became increasingly apparent as the days passed that Asclepius and his family were not among the vast majority of gods that holed themselves up what quarters they had managed to acquire. Asclepius and his wife Epione, along with their four daughters and one son were the only gods who had been remotely helpful throughout this entire mess, caring for the sick and wounded all day, every day. 

Artemis had been withdrawn for some time now, just as Lavinia had said was true of the rest of the Council. Thalia barely saw her at mealtimes, and even then, it was only a short few minutes before the goddess was pulled away again. 

“What could they possibly be talking about that they can’t share with the rest of us?” Piper grumbled one day, close to the end of the week. They sat in the subdued mess hall in the midst of family and friends - what was present of the Seven (minus Leo, who had reported that he was going to remain in the relative safety of the Waystation until a firm plan was constructed), as well as Nico and Reyna, and Will, who Thalia had found herself surprised at her own enjoyment of his company. 

Nico leaned forward conspiratorially and shared a glance with Hazel. “We were speaking with our father about it yesterday.” 

That certainly got everyone's attention. All of them, even Reyna, the only one of them who didn’t have a parent on the Council, hadn’t had much to say to their godly parents. 

Hazel raised her eyebrows, as if seeking permission to share the details. “Supposedly, Jupiter is keeping the Council locked away because he thinks there’s a spy. Someone in the Council who’s responsible for turning everyone mortal.” 

“Who would have the power to do that, though?” Annabeth interjected. “Zeus is the only god who should be able to do that, but turning himself mortal with the prophecy being a thing puts him in a very weak position, so it can’t be him.”

“That’s the other thing,” Nico said, waving her down. “Pluto thinks it’s got something to do with the prophecy, and the one who did this is the ‘staggering one’ it’s talking about.”
Annabeth snorted in response. “That’s obvious, isn’t it? Someone wants to overthrow him because the prophecy said it was coming anyways, so they turn him mortal to make their job easier. But the only people who knew about the prophecy who might also have enough power to turn an entire pantheon mortal is someone on the Council. ” 

“Well, yeah,” Reyna leaned back in her chair. “That fits, but why turn the entire pantheon mortal? What is there to gain?” 

“It could have been an accident,” Frank offered with a shrug. “Whoever it was might have ended up revoking their own godhood when they were only targeting Zeus. So we don’t know who it is because they’re blending in.” 

Percy nodded in understanding. “So Zeus is trying to flush out the rat by keeping the Council locked away and hoping it comes out on its own.” 

“Well, it’s clearly not working,” Nico sighed. “We’re sitting ducks. I don’t like it. The Council should be focusing on finding this ‘staggering one’ and beating the crap out of them.”

“You don’t think the ‘staggering one’ is someone on the Council, then?” Piper asked, cocking her head ever so slightly.

Nico shook his head. “You go through all the gods, and it doesn’t make sense for any of them to do this.” He readjusted in his chair and started counting off on his fingers. “It wasn’t Diana or Bacchus, I’m pretty sure. If they knew what was coming, then they’re very good actors.”

Thalia was fiercely glad that Artemis was officially off the suspects list, and could tell by Reyna’s nod that she shared those sentiments. 

“Athena is too smart to do something like this,” Annabeth said, raising her chin. Nico ticked off another finger. “Turning the entire pantheon mortal by accident, I mean.” 

Nico nodded in agreement. “On the other side of the spectrum, I don’t think this is something Mars would have even considered as a possibility. No offense,” he said to Frank, who smiled weakly. Nico ticked off one more finger, then another four: “Ceres, Mercury, Venus, and Vulcan don’t seem like the type.

“So that leaves Juno and Neptune.” He shrugged. “They might, I mean, they’ve tried to overthrow him before.” He checked his fingers. Not counting Zeus for obvious reasons, he had counted ten and was still one short, and everyone’s gaze slowly turned to Will.

He shook his head valiantly as he realized what they were all insinuating. “Dad wouldn’t.”

“It makes a little bit of sense, though,” Percy started, but Will glared at him from across the table. Percy raised his hands in his defense. “I’m just saying, nobody’s seen him in two and a half years, he could be up to anything right about now.” 

“He doesn’t want to overthrow Zeus,” Will snapped. “The only reason Zeus locked him up was for defending Jerry.” 

“But,” Reyna said, like she might be considering Percy’s point. “It’s just…” She trailed, off clearly trying to make a cohesive point. “Yes, Will, he probably doesn’t want to. But Percy’s right, if he had enough reason to, he might.” 

“What reason-”

“Hesiod!” Annabeth said, probably too loudly. “Will, your dad knew that Zeus has a perfectly reasonable excuse to commit genocide because of what Hesiod said in his poems. And if I know Apollo at all, he would never allow that. That’s your reason.” 

Will shook his head, his eyes clouding over with frustration and confusion. “It still doesn’t make sense, though,” he said weakly. “He’s been who-knows-where for almost three years. How could he possibly know that Zeus found out about Estelle and also come up with a way to turn an entire pantheon mortal, accident or not?”

“Wait, sorry,” Piper rubbed her eyebrow half-mindedly. “How did Zeus find out about Estelle in the first place?”

Annabeth sighed. “There’s this god named Demarus who saw her. God of scribes, or something, and Zeus has been using him to spy on people.” 

“Ah,” Piper nodded into her plate, then raised her head to look around the room packed with people all there for lunch. “Which one is he?”

Percy and Annabeth looked for a moment and shrugged. “I don’t think he’s here. And he’s not on the list of the dead.” 

They were all quiet for a minute. “This sucks,” Thalia muttered. “Not knowing anything. The sooner we figure out who did this, the better.” 

“Hear hear,” Frank said. 

Thalia wandered off on her own that afternoon, needing some quiet. With demigods, nature spirits, and the like flooding into the Roman city as refugees, things were getting rather packed. She found a spot on an empty sidewalk and found it had a rather good view of Temple Hill. There at the top stood the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, one of the only buildings left standing on the hill. Almost half were rubble from the initial attack at this point, including the smaller ones that had been recently constructed. 

Thalia let herself get lost in thoughts of Jason for just a moment. What a shame it was that his dying wish was destroyed because of the messed-up, convoluted mess that the Fates had handed the entire world. 

“Ironic, isn’t it? That Father’s is still standing after all this time?”

Thalia didn’t need to turn around. She would know the voice of her mistress anywhere, now. 

“I guess,” she shrugged half heartedly as Artemis paused beside her. They stood in silence for another moment, and Thalia wondered if she was the only one thinking about brothers. Wordlessly, they kept walking towards the hill. 

“I gotta ask, though,” Thalia said as a sudden thought occurred, one she should have thought to ask sooner. “How does the whole Greek-Roman split work now? Are you Diana right now because we’re at a Roman camp, even though you look like Artemis?”

Artemis-Diana shrugged. “I am not so different between aspects that my appearance matters. I am Diana in places of Roman influence, yes, but Artemis’ chosen form will suit me just fine for the time being.” Thalia made a note of that. “It is different for every god, though. Mars is having a difficult time; he rather dislikes Ares’ chosen form. As well as Minerva.” 

Thalia scoffed internally at the thought of Mars in Ares’ body. She hadn’t seen any of the other Olympians aside from Diana at this point, so her mind ran away with it. As for Minerva, well… Thalia rather liked the prospect of having a goddess of battle tactics on their side in Athena, and Minerva wasn’t necessarily up to the task. 

“Where has the Council been meeting?” For some reason, Thalia couldn’t bring herself to ask what they had been discussing in their meetings. Trivial questions gave both of them a bit of escape from the chaotic world they had found themselves in, and Diana looked tired enough with dark shadows under her eyes and nails bitten down to their last legs. 

Diana gestured vaguely up to Temple Hill. “Father’s temple. A power play, in my opinion.” 

Thalia scoffed out loud this time. “No kidding.” 

They heard the sounds of crowds moving ahead and lingered back in their solitude by some silent agreement. 

“It’s the statue, I think. It sets the tone very nicely-” They heard a psst from a nearby alley that made them both stop in their tracks. Having no weapons available to them inside the limits of the city, they got ready to run or punch. 

Diana gestured for Thalia to remain back, then hesitantly stepped towards the alley. Two figures moved inside, obscured by night and shadows. “Who’s there?” 

Thalia creeped closer, ignoring Diana’s instructions. The one closer to them stepped slightly closer, face obscured by the pulled-up hood of a sweatshirt under a black jacket. The figure in the back, taller and clearly a man, judging by body type, made valiant attempts to pull the first figure back. Hissed conversations ensued. 

Diana stepped closer, eyes narrowed, then waved Thalia back again. “Stay there, keep watch.” Thalia was about to protest before Diana entered the alley… and embraced the first man. 

“Wha-” Partially ignoring Diana again, Thalia huddled close to the outer wall of a building, keeping watch but also eavesdropping. 

“What are you doing here?” Diana hissed, whatever warmth from the hug evaporating instantly.

“Sightseeing, obviously.” The voice was that of a man, and vaguely recognizable in the biting sarcasm.

“Stop making jokes!” Diana harshly whispered back. “Jupiter has been preaching to the Council that this is all your fault for a week now. You know how that ends, don’t you?”

“Yeah, the hiding in an alley wasn’t a coincidence, you know.”
“Public execution!” Diana said, ignoring the man’s retort. “He’s going to destroy you the second you show your face.” 

“Well, I’m not leaving . It took me two weeks to get here. On horseback! My ass is killing me.” 

“Mine as well,” said a new voice, deep but gentle, presumably from the other man. “And, my Lady, I’ve been saying the same thing the whole time, but there’s just no convincing him.” 

“Who even are you-” Diana started before the first voice interrupted. 

“Introductions later. Where is he, and all the rest of them?”

“His temple.” 

“What a jerk,” he muttered, loud enough that Thalia could still hear. Her heart pounded as she realized who this must be. 

“What are you going to do?” Diana sounded uncharacteristically worried. 

“Tell them the truth.”

“About what? Do you know something?”

The man made a sound that meant ‘yes’. Diana’s tongue clicked. The two were silent for a moment, having a conversation without words. 

“Please don’t do anything foolish. Please. Father is angry enough as it is, you can’t just throw accusations in his face.”
For some reason, a flash of anger flared in Thalia’s stomach. If anything needed to happen right now, it was someone putting Jupiter in his place. The man clearly agreed with her: “I will not sit silent. People are dead because of him. People will keep dying if we don’t do something.” 

Diana huffed in frustration, but her voice softened. “That doesn’t mean you can just waltz into the Council. You need a plan-”

“My plan is to tell them all the truth.”
“And after that? What then?”

“That depends on the Council.”

Diana scoffed again, but didn’t continue. “Alright,” she said after a moment. “You’d better make a good case.” 

“It is. Trust me?”

Diana was quiet again, holding back her trust with a well-trained hand. “Please be careful. He needs no excuse to kill you.”

“I’m aware.” 

Thalia snapped back to attention as Diana emerged with the two men. The face of the shorter of the two was obscured by his hood, still, but the taller one reminded her of statues she had seen in museums - beautiful, but stony, with dark skin, a well-trimmed beard, and thin locs that fell to the bottom of his ribcage.

Diana eyed her (she had clearly moved from the position her mistress had left her in), but didn’t seem to care that Thalia had clearly been eavesdropping.

In the time it had taken for Thalia to examine both the taller, unrecognizable man and Diana, the shorter man with the hood had turned to her and beamed at the sight of her. 

Apollo was wearing a new face. But as Thalia drank in the sight of him, almost three years away, she realized she was mistaken. This face was one... or two that she had seen before. Because while the skin was sun-darkened and the hair was a gleaming golden blond as they had been the first time Thalia had met the twins, the eyes and nose were a familiar shape, and the smile was very much Lester . 

The Apollo before his time as a mortal had been like blinding sunbeams, with a heat that cooked the skin and made her sneeze one too many times as she stepped outside. This new form was more like a soft glittering of a setting sun over calm, shadowy water, or the dappling of light through the glowing green leaves of a tree, painting soft grass below with everflowing new shapes. 

“Hi,” she said with a bit too much quaver in her voice as he gently enveloped her in a hug that was several years too late. Gone were the pains of Jason’s death, and now she was just glad one of her brothers was still alive. 

“I’d stay to catch up,” he said, a gleam of a smile left in his eyes as he drew his shoulders up and his face steadied in purposeful confidence. “But-”

“Later,” she waved him off. She eyed Diana meaningfully. “If you’re careful.”

A faint smile quirked his lip. “Always am.”

“Oh, sure.”

She watched as the twins marched up to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, where the rest of the Council apparently waited, accompanied by the other man who’s name she hadn’t caught. 

In hindsight, she realized the feelings she waited with for twenty minutes on that silent street had been nerves. She felt frozen in place, her mind streaking towards all types of outcomes: What if something happened to Diana? What if, in his anger, Jupiter did something disastrous? Would Jupiter really kill Apollo for simply showing his face? 

Beneath the anxiety, real questions floated in her mind: What did Apollo know? Where had he been? Who was the man he had arrived with, and what was going to happen now? 

Late afternoon painted the sky orange. Later, she would realize that this was the first time she had seen a sunset in weeks - a constant cover of clouds had dampened all their spirits. But the sun lowered in the sky, as it always did, warping shadows across buildings and streets. 

Apollo’s presence must have been noticed in the cobblestone roads below. The gentle rumbling of the city quieted as she watched Apollo, Diana, and their unnamed companion cross through. She watched as the crowds parted around them, struck both by awe and a little bit of hope for the first time in a while. 

The three figures climbed Temple Hill and disappeared into the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. 

Rooted to the spot, she watched and waited. The people below amassed into one large crowd as rumors spread like wildfire: Apollo has returned. Apollo knows something. Hope is not yet lost. We are not yet dead.

Five minutes passed. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning glinted on the horizon. But both disappeared after a few moments. 

Ten minutes. 

Fifteen, and Diana stuck her head out of the temple and signaled something to Reyna. Thalia saw Hunter and Reyna enter the temple.

Twenty minutes. 

Jupiter was led out of his own temple in chains. Quiet. The calm before the storm. 

Chapter Text

Let’s rewind. 

2.5 years ago. Camp Jupiter. 

It was a quiet call for help that pulled Apollo’s attention away from whatever menial task he had been doing at the time. Quiet, and scared.

I knew this might happen , he silently reprimanded himself as he turned his divine gaze to his son, Jerry. When he had discovered Jerry had been gifted with prophetic powers. Apollo had done his best to advise his son to take up the vacant post of augur at Camp Jupiter. He didn’t intend to make the same mistake as he had with Halcyon. Prophecy is a wonderful gift, yes, but a dangerous one, especially without the proper (and approved) outlet. 

That approval proved harder to be gained than anticipated. 

Through his divine gaze, Apollo watched as Jerry was pinned between Jupiter and a hulking statue of the same person. Inside the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, where Mars lingered off to the side, clearly annoyed at the sudden interruption of his duty of Jerry’s appointment. The praetors watched helplessly from a corner. 

“This is a foolish endeavor. Your gift ,” Jupiter spat with a particular malice that immediately sent off alarm bells in Apollo’s head, “will end up plunging us headfirst into destruction. Again. Or the gods will have to act to prevent such… damage .” 

Oh no, you don’t.

It took less than a second before Apollo instantly materialized in the temple, placing himself directly between Jerry and Jupiter. A pang of sympathy rattled through his chest like a gong as Jerry sank back in fear. That was a feeling Apollo knew all too well, especially considering that it was the very same feeling that threatened to take all autonomy from his knees and send them crashing to the floor. Grounding himself and ignoring the fear he felt building at the sight of lightning residing in Jupiter’s eyes, he squared his shoulders and raised his chin. Jerry made a sound of relief, but Apollo didn’t turn around out of a desire to keep his father’s attention away from his son.

“Apollo.”

“Father.”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“If I may,” he started, ignoring the fear again and silently resenting the fact that this was all he could do. This was as far as he could push Jupiter without endangering Jerry’s life. Minerva and Diana are so much better at this , he thought to himself. If only I had been born a daughter .

“Speak plainly,” Jupiter snapped. “Do not waste my time with pitiful whining.”

The fear morphed into anger. Still, Apollo kept a blank face. Neutral. “I only mean to say that Jerry is now officially appointed augur.” 

“ And ?”

Mars cleared his throat from the corner and glared at Apollo, at least a little angry that this was the specific card he chose to play, but responding accordingly. “That means he is protected by my oath against all who wish to harm him. Along with all of the legionnaires.”  

Jupiter was silent for a moment at this, but the fear did not abate, and the tingling of the back of Apollo’s neck that usually indicated imminent storms remained. He was vaguely aware of Jerry behind him, smartly staying quiet. Whatever it was that had set off Jupiter’s fight-or-flight response (not that Jupiter ever chose flight as an option) had rattled him as well. 

The distant sound of thunder quieted. Jupiter’s face changed. The anger was replaced by a neutrality that was obviously fake. “We will discuss this in private.” 

With that, he dissolved into a blindingly white light. Everyone sighed in relief. All except Apollo. 

“What happened?” he asked, quickly turning to Jerry, trying not to let his panic lace into his voice; he only had so long before he was forcibly called up to Olympus for this ‘word’ that Jupiter wanted so badly.

Jerry blinked in surprise at the tone, regardless of whatever Apollo had tried to suppress. “I gave a prophecy,” he said, seemingly understanding the weight of the moment. “Like Rachel does. Like it was from the Fates themselves.” He recited it slowly, word for word. Every one stuck deep into Apollo’s brain like an arrow: crowns will fall, staggering one, poet, new kings, destiny, death. 

Apollo tried to steady his breaths. No wonder Jupiter’s reaction had been so severe. But Jerry was still alive, and he didn’t say this out loud - the thunder from outside had returned. 

He turned his head to see Frank and Hazel gazing at him. “What’s going on?” Frank asked quietly. 

Mars kept his eyes trained on the ground, guarding his opinions close to his chest and carefully removing himself from any place he could be blamed. So he would remain neutral, it seems.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen now,” he admitted. “At least, not the whole picture.” He eyed Jerry, who shook his head as well - their foresight had failed them. 

He turned back to Jerry and gently took his son’s face in his hands. “Be careful, yes?”

Jerry nodded. A silent understanding passed between them. Whatever the Fates had decided to hide up their sleeves, they only knew that they wouldn’t see each other for some time. 

“I have to go, now,” he said by way of an apology, and dropped a kiss on Jerry’s forehead. 

“Okay.” They shared one last hug before Apollo disappeared into soft sunrays. 

He wondered why Lester’s blood still thundered in his ears as his feet touched down on solid marble in the Palace of the Sun. Godly ichor does not pound . It isn’t appropriate for a god. 

Apparently not, because that was all Apollo could focus on as he leveled his eyes with the white marble floor, nowhere near the sandaled feet of his father. Waiting for him. In his own house. 

Zeus’s voice (not Jupiter - the switch was odd, but Apollo excused it for the time being) was two hundred decibels too loud. 

“I gave you many chances.” 

Whatever hesitant goodwill Zeus had afforded Apollo had evaporated the second Apollo defied his father his favorite pastime of killing demigods. All that remained of a frayed relationship was the heavy weight of animosity. 

Apollo firmly kept his mouth shut. If not for fear, then for some frail hope that it might blow over if he refused to speak. But they both knew that couldn’t work for very long. 

“Speak, son.” 

The use of the word ‘son’ grated against Apollo’s ears. Still, he did not open his mouth, but the act of defiance spoke for itself. 

“I suggest you not force my hand.” 

Unless you have lost control of your hands, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one forcing them to do anything. Eyes to the floor. Say nothing. Be the better human. 

Each step Zeus made forwards was like echoing thunder. It all clanged together and shook Apollo deep in his sternum. 

His stomach twisted as Zeus grabbed his chin and forced his face up. Two pairs of identical blue eyes met, one burning with anger, the other wrapped carefully in a shield of apathy. That shield was hiding fear and anger, and both of them knew it. 

“You have disappointed me.” Zeus’ voice was quiet, measured. “Perhaps I loosened your leash too much.” 

The strong fingertips against Apollo’s jaw dug into his flesh, tiny lightning leaping across his skin. He could smell his own burning flesh as the sting brought tears to his eyes and a familiar queasiness to his stomach. 

Zeus’ eyes crackled with electricity as they pierced Apollo’s in more ways than one. His voice was still quiet, but Apollo felt the weight like a thousand g’s of force. “I have been lenient with you. I have conceded… many times. Perhaps too many.” 

Zeus’ fingers released Apollo’s jaw and he turned away, broad shoulders taking up more space than necessary in the already large entrance hall. Even through the relief of the absence of the painful touch, Apollo’s peripheral vision was forgotten in the moment of fear and the overwhelming feeling that he was going to do a decidedly ungodly thing and puke on the floor. 

It couldn’t have been over, though. Apollo’s hands shook despite his best efforts to calm them. What would Zeus do? He could have killed Jerry not five minutes ago, but didn’t. 

The sudden sound of Zeus snapping his fingers made Apollo flinch, but no pain immediately came. But, looking down at his wrists, he saw two gold cuffs on each wrist, decorated with a strip of glowing white through the middle of each. “What is this?” he muttered, mostly to himself. “What are you going to do?” he said, louder this time. The fear was slowly giving itself away to the anger. 

Zeus turned. Gone was the disciplinary father, in his place stood the king of storms. “Your insubordination has gone too far. You will remember your place.” 

“Which is where?” Apollo snapped, letting the anger leak through the cracks. 

Zeus' face twisted as both tempers increased, and Apollo’s vision turned to fire. The cuffs Zeus had placed on his wrists turned bright white and millions of volts of Zeus’ electricity caged him in, and he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath as the sudden shock abated. 

“Which is here ,” Zeus replied, completely ignoring the pain he had just inflicted. “You will remain in the Palace of the Sun until you understand that.” 

Still recovering from the pain, Apollo didn’t say anything and chose to press his forehead to the cool marble floor, hating how much it looked like he was bowing. 

“The ancient laws bind us all, my son, including you. Your connections to the mortals have brought us to destruction once before. It will not be by my inaction that it happens again. This is for the best.”

Another set of footsteps made him raise his head, ignoring the dizziness as he pushed himself up to his knees to gaze upon the newcomer. 

A dark-skinned man stood behind him, head bowed. He was tall, as far as Apollo could tell from the floor, and his hair hung in thin locs to the bottom of his ribcage, decorated with bits of gold. He raised his head, revealing a bearded face, as he and Apollo gazed at each other for a moment, both trying to gauge the other with a critical eye. 

Zeus ignored the man for a moment, and walked forwards towards Apollo again. He did not kneel, instead choosing to tower and block out the room. “You give me no other options. You clearly did not learn from your last punishment. But the length of this one rests entirely in your hands.” He turned to leave and eyed the newcomer. “I expect daily reports.”

The man nodded, and Zeus evaporated into rippling electricity. 

The next few days passed in a haze. There were several things he realized somewhat quickly: one was that Iris messages were only one-way, now. He could only watch, unable to help or reach out as the world continued on without him. No communication out, nor in besides the usual prayers and the IMs. Second was that he was, without a doubt, locked into his own house. Any attempt he made to split his essence and travel outside the Palace was unsuccessful, and the giant gold doors did not budge, even when he threw all of his godly power at them. Reinforced by Zeus’ enchantments no doubt. He couldn’t even drive the sun chariot, but hopefully his slack was being picked up by other sun gods. Shamash and Ra would, probably, and even then there was still the reliability of that pesky thing called astrophysics. Third was that the newcomer wasn’t going anywhere. Apollo never saw the ‘reports’ he was supposed to be giving to Zeus, but he was exceedingly careful to make sure the IMs he called up to look after the wellbeing of his children and friends were hidden from sight. No need to let Zeus know who he cared about, especially that he was unable to help them, being on what was basically house arrest for the foreseeable future (literally - Apollo’s foresight couldn’t stretch without seeing anything but the interior of the Sun Palace). 

The man kept mostly in the background. It was awkward for a time, especially since Apollo cried himself to sleep in a pillow pile on the floor in front of the solidly closed doors more than one night in a row. 

By the end of the first week of near-solitary confinement, Apollo finally took initiative. Bundled in a thick blanket on a couch and watching summer camp beginning on Half-Blood Hill from an IM in a darkened room, he finally decided to talk to this stranger who moved like a shadow around what remained of his life. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” he said to the room at large, not bothering to turn around where the man perpetually lingered. 

The man adjusted himself at the surprise of being addressed for the first time all week. Only then did Apollo turn, and vaguely gesture to a part of the couch that was an acceptable distance away with a blanket-covered hand. 

The man took the seat gingerly, his gaze lingering on the IM, where Will, Kayla, and Austin all had their heads together. “They don’t know what’s going on,” Apollo grumbled, but was still careful to sound somewhat neutral. 

“I suppose not,” the man said, possibly in reply to either one of those statements. He turned to Apollo, who was vaguely reminded of the dark, innocent eyes of a bull calf. “I am Demarus. God of historians, scriveners, and the written word.” 

It sounded rehearsed, like he was used to people not knowing him.

“Do you really report everything?”

Demarus nodded, and waved a hand. A journal appeared out of thin air, floating in the air beside him, a pen scribbling on top. Apollo guessed it was always there, just invisible. “I record everything I see. Habit.”

The perfect spy. A historian who must give the facts as he sees them rather than risk it being subjective or biased. Apollo could only wonder how long Demarus had been Zeus’ personal lapdog, or if Demarus had been brought into his employ specifically for this reason. 

Demarus’ gaze flicked back to the Iris Message, still showing the five children at Camp Half-Blood. The pen scribbled faster. 

Unease filled Apollo’s thoughts as he tried to catch a glimpse of the contents of the journal, to no avail. What could possibly be so interesting to him about Apollo’s children?

He hastily switched the channel to something less invasive, going instead to a livestream of some no-name musician on what the mortals called YouTube. If he could control anything in this tiny corner of what had become his life, it would be that Zeus didn’t know how much he watched out for his children. Demarus could not be allowed to see such things. 

The man in question glanced over at him as the vision of Apollo’s children disappeared. His face was blank and emotionless and unresponsive as stone, but the pen continued to scribble. 

All day, every day, this continued. The scribbling of the mostly-invisible pen followed Apollo into his dreams as well as in waking, a phantom sound that wormed itself into his brain. 

Apollo was holding out on judging Demarus just yet, but he had no other company. Besides of course, the sun horses. Now that he was not allowed to leave and do his duty as sun god, the horses were as grounded as he was. They all had one thing in common: they all missed the freedom of flying through the skies, with nothing to dodge but clouds. 

As the days turned into weeks and months, Apollo found himself either watching Iris Messages with a near-obsessive frequency (although remaining careful to not let Demarus see overwhelmingly sensitive information), or “relaxing” in an isolated paddock for the horses. 

Aethops, Bronte, Euos, and Sterope were all giant white horses with manes so red they looked like flickering fire, over two times the size of a regular horse. And despite their nature as horses that embodied the literal sun, they were actually very friendly if given the proper amount of gilded hay and pats. 

It all turned into some kind of cursed comfort. Like he was supposed to find living in a luxurious palace a reward for abandoning his children. But as much as he wished to rejoin them, this felt like a battle of wills. Zeus got what he wanted either way, which was that Apollo was forbidden all contact with his children. But if Apollo had any kind of power left in this situation, it would be that his father would continue on with his life knowing that there was some insurmountable rage growing behind those chained doors. And it was coming for him. 

Chapter Text

Apollo had thought that he was already hitting bedrock as the long months turned into two and a half years. Apparently, the universe was in possession of a high-quality drill, and seemed determined to get him even deeper. 

Very little had changed. The Iris Messages were still on near constant play, but Iris herself was apparently taking orders from Zeus and only rarely showed him his children and friends. Huge chunks were missing from what Apollo knew of their lives, but as far as he could tell, all seven of his claimed demigod children were alive and well, and offering him little prayers of come back soon, Dad and hope you’re okay . Neither of which he felt that he could answer honestly, but he still tried to keep tabs on his unclaimed children, whom Iris seemed more agreeable to show him. 

Demarus’ presence continued. Strangely, though, his gaze had started averting from the Iris Messages if one was playing when he entered a room. Apollo wasn’t quite sure why this was happening now, but he was grateful all the same for the extra time he received to carefully switch to a harmless vision instead. Grateful, because one time, Demarus had caught a glimpse of one of Apollo’s unclaimed children a few months into his semi-solitary confinement - a little boy living in Colorado. The boy died not three days after Demarus had seen and noted his presence, and Apollo had valiantly tried not to think of it as a coincidence. 

That happened three more times. Three more children dead the moment Demarus unwittingly reported their existence to Zeus. 

Zeus himself had not returned. Apollo had received no news of anyone or anything happening in or out of Olympus aside from the now very limited IMs. And although Demarus was supposed to be good at the whole ‘keeping track of events’ thing, he was apparently sworn to silence. The only inkling of Zeus’ presence were the cuffs imbued with his enchantments that remained on his wrists, abruptly shocking him whenever said enchantments decided he was being particularly rebellious.
Once again, Apollo found himself watching one of the few people Iris was allowed to show him: his five-year-old daughter, Margo Hernandez. Apparently, Christmas was approaching for her and her family, and she happily watched her mortal father placing a gold-wrapped present under the glittering tree. 

It was peaceful. How he wished that he were the one laughing with his little daughter as the holiday approached, and that her other siblings were there, and they were all happy and safe and loved and together. That he was the one beckoning her over to eat dinner, that he would carry her off to tuck her into bed and read her bedtime stories and sing lullabies. 

He hastily wiped away the tears and wondered how long she had to live. Even if Zeus didn’t know about her just yet, demigods never did live long. 

He studied his daughter’s face through the rainbow-tinted vision, praying to whatever god that still had pity for him would one day let him see her in the flesh, with her liveliness shining in front of him rather than through to the dead silence and stifling air of the Sun Palace. 

He must have jumped five feet in the air, having been zoned out when the monster broke through the window of the living room, landing with a thunderous snarl inside the house. 

“ No! ” But he was too late, too far, and much too powerless to do anything. “No, stop! Please !” He could only watch and cover his mouth to stifle his useless protests as the monster ravaged through the house. The parents were dead within a minute. “ Don’t !” 

Do something! But there was nothing to do. Maggie was screaming and crying as her parent’s blood spread and inched across the porcelain floor towards her. He was probably doing the same thing, reaching out to a daughter who didn’t even know he existed. 

His legs gave out, the weakness of it sickening. He was a god, for Fates’ sake. What was the use of it if he had to watch yet another child die? Halcyon, Michael, Lee, Nathan, so many others, and now Maggie. Resigned to it. Destined for it. 

“Please, no, please .” Through sobs, there was nothing he could do but reach out with powerless fingers. 

Someone must have heard him. Some soul that was too kind for this hardened world. One that didn’t deserve the hatred of gods or mortals, a good person who had nothing to gain and everything to lose by helping a little girl in her moment of terror, because that person had sent a satyr. 

Apollo had quite literally never been happier to hear cloven hooves and reed pipes than he was in that moment. The monster turned, not three seconds from ending Maggie’s life, and ripped through the air to face the trembling satyr who bravely played an upbeat version of It Ain’t Me, Babe , by Bob Dylan (and no, not the Johnny Cash cover, because Apollo at any other moment, namely not having a mental breakdown, would say that particular version is the worst one, because Joan Baez is right there ). 

Grasses and roots broke through concrete and polished porcelain to snake around the monster’s feet, which, from its mouth, shot a stream crackling lightning at the satyr, who dodged and continued to play with truly stunning breath control. 

The roots snapped tight around the monsters neck and squeezed. It continued to struggle, but the lightning blasts became less frequent, less aggressive. Slowly, it died, twitching on the floor. 

The satyr’s playing ebbed away, and he gently approached Maggie. Before Apollo could hear the name of the truly wonderful, brave, kind satyr that had just saved his daughter’s life, the Iris Message flickered out. 

Apollo cursed and tried to bring it back, if anything just to make sure that Maggie was okay. All he could see was a recording of the thing. Pausing it, he buried his head in his hands as he was overwhelmed by emotions like a horde of Tauri Sylvestres. 

“Is she alive?” 

Apollo turned to see Demarus in the doorway, face drawn and eyes worried, wearing the most emotion Apollo had ever seen on his face. 

While not understanding the reason for it, he nodded all the same. “You knew about her?”

“I have for a while.” 

The indication flashed like a waving flag in between them. Zeus knew about her as well, then. 

Apollo fully expected the conversation to end there. Things normally did, with Demarus. A few awkward words, lingering, watching, with Demarus’ invisible diary taking notes the whole time. But this time, Demarus leaned over and waved a hand, the Iris recording rewinding to just before the attack, showing Maggie and her mortal father, placing the present under the tree. Another wave, and the vision zoomed in on the background: there was the monster, getting ready to attack. And on the balcony railing outside, an eagle, poised for flight and watching the whole thing with a strict eye. 

Apollo cursed so loudly that a glass something shattered in the other room and Demarus, caught unawares, jumped. The cuffs lit up with electricity, making him double over with the pain of it as Zeus’ enchantments activated again. Frustrated and out of breath, he calmed himself. 

“What does he think is going to happen?” Apollo started pacing, feeling his rage inside him like sun flares, despite Zeus’ punishment. “How does he gain anything from this?”

It was a rhetorical question. But Demarus surprised him again. “He expects you to give in. As all the others do.” 

“How could I? He keeps killing my children .” Which, of course, according to Zeus, he should have no connection to. No love for his own flesh and blood. He sighed and continued pacing, winding his way back through the Palace to the front doors. His own reflection stared back at him through the polished gold, despite all his best attempts to melt the damned things. 

The view of his own form had started rubbing him the wrong way. The blonde, perfect, muscled surfer was a farce, and Lester felt much too weak. Apollo needed to be strong for his children, not to be the sniveling teenager body Zeus had crammed him into. 

He watched his own reflection change, warping and evolving to shape into something new, something his own. The face that looked back at him was one that he barely recognized at first as himself, but nothing else had ever felt so real and unadulterated. The face of Lester and the aura of the old form had grown and morphed into one. But his eyes were new - the old lightning blue was being shunted to the sides, overtaken by a bright gold expanding from the center. His eyes looked like suns set against a blue sky. 

Demarus looked more worried than ever, especially at the change of appearance. “What are you going to do?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Apollo scoffed, mostly to himself. 

The answer came a few days later. Demarus had said that a group of demigods had arrived at Olympus with a couple of Egyptian magicians who had been petitioning for an alliance with the Greco-Romans; apparently the monster attacks were not one pantheon. 

“Which demigods?”

“Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.” 

Apollo hadn’t turned to look at Demarus yet, but he did so then and was surprised again by how nervous Demarus looked. “What is it?”

Demarus’ lip was quivering, hands restlessly playing with a spare pen, his note-taking one flying across the page on the paper that had momentarily become visible. 

“Percy’s sister,” he said shortly, hesitating to elaborate.

“Estelle?”

“Oh. Yes, the toddler. With…” Using a shaking hand, he gestured to his head. 

“The odd hair, yeah, I noticed that when she was a baby.” Apollo was having a hard time understanding why Demarus looked like he was about to have a mental breakdown. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

Demarus genuinely snorted in agreement; a rare moment in the scope of their very strange relationship. He waved away the pen and paper, and they disappeared into thin air. “No use hiding anymore, Zeus is already aware. I was too late.” 

“Too late? I don’t understand…”

Demarus raised his eyebrows, again breaking the carefully neutral character he had been wearing for the last several years. “You were there! How do you not remember?” He rubbed a hand over his face, digging his fingers through the coarse beard hair there. “Of course not, you gods are so forgetful, aren’t you?”

You gods? Apollo was desperate to ask, aren’t you a god, too? But he refrained. “Give me the crash course. Because I’m still lost.” 

Demarus glared at him. “Hesiod.”

“Wha- oh… oh no. ” Realization crashed over him like one big tidal wave. “Oh, I get it now. The whole thing, it all makes sense.” He briefly told Demarus the story of how he had first met Estelle, almost four years ago when she was still a baby. And he had seen her hair, having not realized how disastrous it was - her hair marking her as an omen of death and apocalypse and so many other terrible things… And if Demarus had seen Estelle, then Zeus knew about her hair, and knew that Hesiod’s predictions had finally come to pass. Zeus was probably drawing up his grand plans as they sat there, powerless and speechless. Genocide, and all they would be able to do was watch. “What are we going to do?” he asked weakly.

That, for some reason, made Demarus’ eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “What do you mean?”

“I-,” Apollo gestured around him. “What do you mean, ‘ what do you mean’ ? I’m not a huge fan of genocide, in case you hadn’t noticed. My children will die, my friends, all of them .” 

Demarus paused, taking a moment to examine Apollo closer. “It seems I underestimated you.”

Apollo peered over at him. “Okay…?”

Demarus paused, returning the critical gaze. Nodding in a decided manner, he turned on his heel and left. 

He didn’t return for three days, but when he did, he looked haggard and worn. “The Iris Message. Turn it on.”

“To who?” 

“Zeus. Nobody’s seen him for three days. I think I know where he’s going.”

While Apollo called for Iris’ services, Demarus took his journal in hand and scribbled something down. Tearing the sheet away, he handed it to Apollo. It was a copy of the prophecy Jerry had given when he had been appointed augur. “I’ve seen this before. It’s the next Great Prophecy.” 

“Do you understand it?” Apollo tried not to scoff at the idea of understanding a prophecy. Demarus wrinkled his nose at that. “What is the point of using words if you do not understand them?”

Apollo opened his mouth to answer, but Demarus interrupted him (which, if this had happened several years ago, would have landed him with third-degree sunburns, but those days had passed). “Regardless. What would Zeus do now, with the prophecy in mind?”

Apollo studied the prophecy once more. “This staggering one sounds like a threat to his throne, so he’d like to destroy them as soon as possible.”

“And who could the staggering one be?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knows.” 

“Exactly. So Zeus needs to find out who, but with the Jackson girl in mind-”

“Blofis. Her last name is Blofis.”

“Whatever.” 

Apollo laughed at that, much preferring this animated and vibrant Demarus to the one that had been haunting his halls for the last few years. “Yes, I understand, now. If the staggering one is a god, he needs more, I don’t know, power , maybe. He can’t kill a god, but he might have to. But if he can do a thorough purge of the gods in order to prepare for the Sixth Age, he needs something more.” 

Demarus nodded. “My thoughts exactly. But he’s been missing for three days.”

“... ah. ”

“Yep.” 

Apollo turned to the Iris Message, slowly putting all the pieces together as Zeus came into view. Iris was evidently on their side, because Apollo had a hard time imagining Zeus would ever let her show them what she was. 

Zeus was in a dark room, with no sight of the walls or ceiling, the only light coming from the crackling white glow of the Master Bolt in his hand. A figure, made of what could only be described as shadow and thought only, was crouched in the middle of the room, head down and vaguely transparent in appearance. 

“ Where is the tablet, Hanpa ?” Zeus asked, loud and demanding as ever. 

The figure didn’t look up, didn’t move at all, but its voice filled the cavern with a sound like nails on a chalkboard. Even through the IM, goosebumps crawled up Apollo’s legs, and Demarus shifted uneasily next to him. “ Let me make you a deal .” 

The IM cut out. 

“ Oh no ,” they said in unison. 

Apollo barely had time to consolidate his questions: who and where was the figure? What was the tablet? Would Zeus take the deal? More kept cropping up, but he was rudely interrupted by the loudest sound he had ever heard, like a jet had broken the sound barrier next to his head. Thunder shook the marble under his feet, and more electricity shunted through the cuffs straight into Apollo’s spine. 

Demarus caught his balance as the sky outside, which was supposed to be permanently sunny, was dark and cloudy and cracked with lightning. “Uh oh.” 

“You think?” Apollo snapped as the cuffs burned into his skin again. Weakly, he stumbled through the halls. 

“Where-” As Apollo didn’t answer, Demarus shut his mouth and followed Apollo out to the paddocks where the sun horses trotted nervously. Aethops was the first to trot over, followed by his sisters, carefully nuzzling into Apollo’s shaking hand. It took an unfortunate amount of effort to wave a hand and conjure two saddles, one on Sterope and one on Aethops. “Get on,” he muttered to Demarus with what little strength he had left. 

But Demarus lingered to help Apollo up onto Sterope’s back, making sure he was stable before mounting Aethops. Apollo grunted in pain again as the sky continued to thunder and the cuffs turned him rigid once more. 

“What are you planning?”

“ Don’t know ,” Apollo panted into Sterope’s fiery mane, summoning his golden bow and a quiver of arrows. “Get ready.” 

“For what?” But the world went black before Apollo could answer. 

His entire body ached as he came to and something wet traveled across his face. Sterope’s nose, he realized as he opened his eyes. “Ow.”

Ow? Gods don’t say ‘ow’. He sat up gingerly, taking in his surroundings.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” The fact that the voice didn’t belong to Demarus was the first thing that clued him in to the fact that something was up. He looked up, and scoffed a bit as he saw the drawn face of Sally Jackson next to that of a sleeping toddler on her hip, her husband beside her, both blinking down at him. 

“Wha…” Slowly remembering where he had been and what had happened, he finally recognized where he was now. But as he stood up with the help of Paul Blofis, he hardly recognized Camp Half-Blood. It took a moment for words to return: the camp was nothing short of decimated, having been trampled by an attack several hours ago, the gruesomeness illuminated by the evening sun. 

Sally saved him from asking. “Your friend, Demarus, said it looks like this all happened last night. We came here because… well, Estelle wanted to visit Rachel. We didn’t know what we were walking into.” 

“It’s not safe for you to be here,” Apollo mumbled tiredly as he surveyed the blackened remnants of the camp, rubbing half mindedly at the still-painful skin around his wrists where the magic cuffs remained. 

“We haven’t been here long,” Paul defended her, but his eyes looked like he agreed. Apollo supposed that the Mist had been worn thin here, and he could see at least in part the horror that was coursing through Apollo now. “You and Demarus have been here for a few hours, but you were unconscious the whole time.” 

“Where is he?” 

Sally pointed down towards the edge of the strawberry fields, and Apollo vaguely drifted down the hill. 

Demarus had been busy. He had built several pyres already, all but one bearing bodies covered in what looked like plain white bedsheets - the lack of traditional shrouds over too-small bodies was the thing that broke Apollo’s heart the most. 

“Apollo.” Demarus stood behind him, carrying the last body. Jerking his chin for Apollo to follow, he set the dead child on the last empty pyre. 

“Are there any survivors?” Apollo asked weakly, hoping against hope that there were, that none of his children or friends lay upon those pyres, covered by those plain sheets. Death itself was bad enough, but he didn’t know if he could take the death of another child. His hands were shaking again.

Demarus gave a little nod. “A child of Hephaestus; he said his name was Shane. He’s resting by the beach.” He trailed off, and there was something in his eyes that clued Apollo in. 

Demarus held Apollo’s shaking hands in his own calm, calloused ones, dropping something into them, then led him gently over to one pyre. “I didn’t know her name. But I- Apollo .”

Apollo hadn’t even let him finish before seizing the sheet that covered either one of his daughters’ bodies, a horrified sound escaping him as he glimpsed Gracie, her flesh burnt and bloody, beautiful gold hair charred and discolored. 

“No, no no no no,” Apollo mumbled into the back of his hand as Demarus carefully covered her body again, then reached down and squeezed Apollo to him in a rare act of empathy. 

He cried. He raged. He may have thrown something, cried some more, and watched numbly as Demarus lit the pyres and stepped back to hold his hand. 

Then Demarus left him alone with his grief. But Apollo already had too much grief. It was an old wound now, festering and open to the elements. Gracie among the others. 

He sniffed, wondering if it would be excused for something other than honest tears in the biting mix of cold wind and smoke. The funeral pyres crackled lowly, and he vaguely wondered how long he'd been standing there, alone, watching the bodies of children crumble to ash.

The unforgiving shape of the charms on the necklace Demarus had given him felt dull against his numb fingers. Beads, one for each of her summers. And another charm, one his fingers didn't recognize. Looking down, he saw a glimmer of metal underneath the black coat of soot. Wiping the grime and clinging ash away with his thumb, he saw it for what it was: a tiny sun, intricately crafted from gold, strung along in between her beads, his own name swirling around the center in Greek.

He looked back up, to where he knew her body burned again. He wished it didn't have to be fire.

His eyes burned with smoke, then with fatigue as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, and the only light came from a sliver of the moon and the glowing coals.

He heard someone approach, and it was only in the light of the moon he could see who it was: Sally, with that precious mortal child clinging to her hip. Her free hand clasped his, the one that wasn't holding the necklace.

"I pray you never feel this," he said, his voice croaky after hours of disuse.

She didn't say anything; probably, she was praying the same. He wondered who she prayed to.

He tore his eyes away from the embers, and, clearing his throat, turned around and followed her up the hill.

"It's sad," he said, "but I think us gods have much more practice burying our children than raising them."

Chapter Text

Shane was apparently the sole survivor of those who had not made it to the Labyrinth in time. Demarus had found him hiding underneath the docks, relatively unharmed. 

His eyes were as red as Apollo knew his own were as Shane joined them at the top of the hill, where they all gazed at the remnants of the Fleece and Peleus’ head that lay several feet away from his body. 

Well, everyone else was. Apollo was looking down at his hands, where he had cut himself on a stray piece of wood from the pyres, watching the red blood leak out. His grief was briefly overwhelmed by pure shock and a touch of anger “Are you kidding? Again ?”

“Same here,” Demarus raised a hand, showing, similarly, how his own cut was leaking red. 

Apollo took a moment to process that. He’d only just had a mental breakdown - it seemed far too soon to have another. Sally and Shane, having enough knowledge of him as a person, watched for the other shoe to drop. 

“Okay,” he said, slowly and measuredly. “Okay. This is fine.” It wasn’t actually fine, but that was besides the point. Honestly, if Zeus hadn’t known that turning him mortal the most recent time had had the opposite effect that he intended, he might have been expecting this. But the shock came from the fact that Zeus did know that turning him mortal was pointless. So what was the king of the gods playing at? “Plan. We need a plan.” 

Shane’s voice was croaky and nasally - he had definitely been crying, but his voice was strong and purposeful. “Chiron was telling everyone to rendezvous at Camp Jupiter.”

“Percy called about twenty minutes ago,” Paul said. “He said that Camp Jupiter was attacked as well, and that all the other gods are mortal now, too.”

“Hm.” The noise Demarus made was similar to that of someone who was having a very hard time compartmentalizing and keeping their cool. So, the entire Greco-Roman pantheon was mortal now. Fantastic. 

“Maybe that was the deal Zeus made,” Apollo muttered to Demarus. “Turning the entire pantheon mortal in exchange for this… tablet thing he wants.” 

“What does he have to gain from that?” Demarus frowned. “I understand making a deal to weaken the mortals he already wants to kill, but if he wants to maintain his position as king of the gods, then he needs gods .” 

“So you don’t think Zeus was the one who turned everyone mortal? But who else has the power to do that?” Apollo mused out loud. “Ugh. I don’t know. This doesn’t make any sense.” 

Paul cleared his throat to interrupt. “I don’t know if this is relevant… but Percy said that Zeus-slash-Jupiter was mortal, too.” 

“ What .” 

Demarus buried his head in his hands. “So it was an accident? Or maybe he gave the power to someone else… That could have been the deal. Give the person in the vision power to do anything in exchange for the tablet, and the person uses it to turn the pantheon mortal.” 

Apollo took a moment to ponder that. It did make sense… “Alright… but then this tablet thing must be super valuable for Zeus to willingly give up power, especially enough to revoke the divinity from hundreds of gods.” 

Demarus shrugged weakly. “I don’t know about any tablets, at least not any that are worth the trade.” 

“I don’t know if this helps,” Shane said from the ground, where he pulled out a normal-looking mortal laptop. “I developed a software for demigods to use the Internet without attracting monsters, if you wanted to try Wikipedia or something.” 

Demarus scoffed. “ Wikipedia .”

Apollo reached out. Shane clicked around for a minute and handed it to Apollo, open to the Wikipedia search page. “Where to start, is the question.” Demarus grit his teeth and grudgingly allowed the affront to his domain. 

Paul, ever the teacher, leaned forward. “ Tablet is too broad. You’ll need to narrow it down.” 

Apollo wracked his brains for any term that was specific enough to lead them down the right track. “Okay….” He wrinkled his nose at the keys and handed it up to Paul. Normally, he would just use his powers to look something up, but alas, mortal fingers mixed with keyboards are tricky things. “I can’t type.” 

Paul, hiding his amusement well, sat beside him and clicked on the search bar, where the little blinking cursor appeared. 

“Try ‘staggering one’, from the prophecy,” Demarus suggested. Paul did so with what Apollo thought was truly astonishing speed. 

A list of entries popped up and Apollo leaned in. “No… no…” The third entry was the one that caught his eye, and he pointed to it, eyeing Demarus. 

“Pa…zuzu?” Sally said out loud. 

Paul clicked the link and read out loud: “‘In ancient Mesopotamian religion, Pazuzu was a personification of the southwestern wind, and held kingship over the lilu wind demons’.”

“So… the staggering one is a Mesopotamian wind demon?” Demarus frowned. 

“No,” Paul said, clicking around for another moment. “The staggering one is Pazuzu’s father, Hanpu.” 

Demarus face-palmed. “Seriously? This whole time.” He eyed Apollo with a frustration that they both shared. “We’ve been bested by Wikipedia.” 

Paul cleared his throat again, having found the proper article. “Oh it’s very short. Okay. Blah blah blah… ‘Hanbi or Hanpa was the god of evil, god of all evil forces, and the father of Pazuzu.’” Grimacing, he continued. “‘Aside from his relationship with Pazuzu, very little is known of this figure’.” He looked up at them. “So Hanbi, Hanpa, and Hanpu are all the same person.” 

“ Hanpa… That was what Zeus called the person in the vision.” Demarus’ eyes were widening as he started to understand the implications of that. “Zeus made a deal with the staggering one… to protect his throne from the staggering one.” 

“And to commit genocide. Don’t forget that part.” Apollo sighed. “But the prophecy doesn’t necessarily mean that this Hanpu guy will be the one to destroy Olympus.” Demarus opened his mouth, clearly about to say something about the ‘god of evil’ part, but Apollo he flicked a hand back over to the laptop. “Try looking up ‘tablet’ again. Put ‘Mesopotamian mythology’ after.”

Paul typed around for a moment. “Ah. The Tablet of Destinies, maybe? ‘Permanent legal document, conferred upon the god Enlil his supreme authority of ruler of the universe’.”  

Apollo was mostly too numb with grief to offer a genuine emotional reaction, but he could sure try. “This has to be a joke.” 

Demarus scoffed. “You think? We should have been using Wikipedia this whole time.” 

Sally, having been watching the whole exchange in relative silence, interjected. “Hang on. Walk me through the whole thing one more time, with the extra stuff.”

Apollo handed it over to Demarus: “So, two and a half years ago, Apollo’s son Jerry arrived at Camp Jupiter and was appointed as augur. He gives prophecies and interprets omens,” he explained to a very confused looking Paul. “So Jerry spoke the next Great Prophecy, which includes the fall of Zeus’ throne on Olympus when ‘the staggering one comes near with the poet’s words’. And nobody knew what that meant, until recently.”

“The poet,” Apollo explained, “was Hesiod, an old friend of mine who predicted that Zeus would commit a human genocide when infants are born with gray hair.” 

Sally and Paul both gazed down at the sleeping form of Estelle, who’s trademark hair was covered by a wooly hat. “Is that why you reacted strangely when you saw her?” Sally asked Demarus.

Demarus nodded. “Yes. I was under oath to report everything I recorded to Zeus. And, well, I knew Zeus was aware of Hesiod’s predictions. He’s been waiting for this.”
“Which meant that Zeus started looking for ways to destroy the world? Why would he need this Tablet of Destinies to do it?”

Apollo shrugged. “He’s always been paranoid. He wants to protect his throne against the prophecy. Which is why he went searching for the Tablet, I guess, and figured that this Hanpu guy would know where it is. Whether or not he knew who he was talking to is another question.” 

Shane frowned and gestured to Apollo. “But isn’t trying to avoid prophecies never a good idea?” 

Demarus snorted. “Not if you have a tablet that makes you ruler of the universe.” 

“It’s also not the first time he’s tried,” Apollo said. “He received a prophecy that his first wife, Metis, would give birth to a son who would overthrow him. And when he found out she was pregnant, he turned her into a fly and swallowed her.” 

Paul gaped. “What happened?” 

“Athena,” everyone else said in unison. Paul frowned in confusion, but nodded all the same. 

“But then why did he only just start searching for the tablet?” Shane asked. “He’s known about the prophecy for a couple years, why now?”

“Estelle, probably,” Apollo suggested. “If he tries to commit genocide, he expects he’s going to end up with quite a few unhappy gods. And unhappy gods rebel. The tablet will keep them in line.” 

“ You , you mean,” Demarus said. 

“I- what do you mean?” Apollo turned to him.

Demarus returned the look like the answer was obvious. He scoffed after a minute. “You really don’t know how much you scare him, do you?” He sighed. “The entire pantheon being turned mortal probably wasn’t in the cards, but if he got the tablet, the first thing he was planning on doing was killing you so he could carry out the rest of his plan.” 

“Then why not turn me mortal again?” Apollo cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “There are much easier ways to get rid of me than making a deal with the literal devil to find some stupid tablet. Why put me on freaking house arrest?!” 

Demarus shook his head in bewilderment. “Well, that wasn’t an issue for you last time.” 

“What are you talking about?” Apollo demanded.

Demarus leaned forward and raised a finger. “You turned yourself back into a god the last time. Zeus had nothing to do with it.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “He worried that it wouldn’t work if he tried again, or might make things worse.” He saw Apollo’s disbelieving look. “You didn’t realize that, did you? He lost sight of you when you fell into Tartarus. There’s no way he could have restored your divinity after that. So the only explanation for why you didn’t die is that you did it yourself.” 

Everyone in their little circle gazed at Apollo, as if waiting for his blood to turn spontaneously gold again and save them from imminent destruction. But he sat there, tired, sad, and scared, sagging with the weight of five of his own children dead in the remains of a camp that he had loved and lost, like so many of the other things in his life. 

He ran a hand through his hair and watched the sun horses grazing on the hill below. “Okay… well,” he held up his hands. “Don’t wait up. It wasn’t intentional. Regardless of… that , there needs to be a plan. The Council should know about this whole thing, and I don’t want to keep the demigods in the dark anymore.” 

Demarus raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t seriously planning on going to Camp Jupiter, are you? Did you not hear me? He’ll kill you the second you step foot-”

“I don’t care,” Apollo snapped as he stood up and grabbed his golden bow, glad to have it in hand this time. “I’m not going to wait around for him to kill everyone I love.” 

He turned, ready to walk down the hill, mount Sterope again, and make the two week journey by himself when Demarus caught his wrist and lowered his head at Apollo’s questioning gaze. “I have a family that could die as well. If you can stop it, then I’m coming.” 

Shane tried to stand up. “I’m coming-”

“No!” everyone said, including Sally and Paul.

Sally laid a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “No, you should stay with us, and we can get you somewhere safe when you’re ready.” 

Apollo nodded at Shane. “You can get a train to the Waystation. It’s safe there.” He paused for a second, and after a moment of thought, strode up to Shane and handed him Gracie’s camp necklace. He might not have been there for the beginnings of their relationship, but if Gracie’s final prayers for Shane’s safety and happiness had ever existed, they were ones he intended to honor. 

“Are you sure?” Shane asked, eyes widening as he took the necklace. 

Apollo nodded. “Be safe,” he said to the three of them, then followed Demarus down the hill. 

“So,” Demarus said after they had started off: Apollo on Sterope and Demarus on Aethops again, with Bronte and Euos left riderless, but lingering behind at a safe pace. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Again, not really fine. But what else was there to say? Here was this man he had known for two and a half years and had never had a true, meaningful conversation with. How could he even begin to unload all his grief and fear and guilt when he hadn’t even begun to decompartmentalize it all himself? He just felt so numb, as if the next blow would just be absorbed into his person without a backwards glance. The grief of Gracie’s death twisted inside him like Python in his massive coils in the depths of Delphi, but the snake had yet to rear its ugly head to strike. Frankly, Apollo didn’t even know if he could trust Demarus, who was now scribbling in his journal for dear life. What would stop him from continuing on with whatever oath he had sworn to Zeus and report back what Apollo had figured out?

For a while, they continued on in the same silence. The journey would take them about two weeks, and Apollo wasn’t certainly keen on the idea of traipsing down into the Labyrinth. 

“I’ll go first,” Demarus said abruptly on the third day. 

“Go first?”

“We know nothing about each other. I want to fix that.”

Apollo looked over at him. Something had changed, he could tell. The Demarus he had first met was reserved, unemotional, and rather like talking to a brick wall. It seemed like being turned mortal was… freeing for him. Curious.

“Alright then.” 

Demarus readjusted in Aethop’s saddle. “I was born a half-blood.”

“Huh.” 

“You’re surprised?”

“No. It makes sense, actually.”

Demarus smirked. “My mother is Mnemosyne.”

Apollo nodded. “That also makes sense. So you have a perfect memory, then?”

“I do. Never forgot what it was like, being mortal. Being given divinity was… a culture shock.” 

“I bet,” Apollo smiled to himself. He supposed that sentiment wasn’t necessarily dissimilar to his own unease at being turned mortal in most of his previous experiences. But it also explained something he had been realizing about Demarus - because although he was a god, Demarus exuded something no other god did: humanity. And he didn’t even have to promise a dying Jason Grace . 

“What’s the story, then?” Apollo prompted.

Demarus sighed. “Well, my father was a high-ranking official in modern-day Libya, and his estate had this massive library. Caught my mother’s attention. That, and the fact that he was quite famous for having a perfect memory. Anyways, when I was born, he was worried for my safety, because half-blood children tend to get noticed easily, don’t they? Especially demiTitans like me. So he took careful care in raising me to be calm, wise, and unassuming. It’s why he gave me the name ‘Demarus’. It means gentle .” 

And gentle he was. Apollo had a hard time believing that Demarus had a malicious bone in his body. Smart, witty and a little snarky, yes, but not violent or ill-meaning. 

“A well-chosen name.” 

Demarus appraised him for a moment, then bowed his head modestly. “Thank you.” Turning forward again, he gripped the reigns tighter. “Anyways, I started working in my father’s court when I grew up, and I was known for being ever the bookworm. I loved learning and reading and whatnot. So one day, the king of a neighboring country visited my father, and he brought his wife. An assassin had poisoned the king’s wine, but the queen drank it instead. I was the only one who knew the antidote because I had read it in a book, and I saved her life. Little did I know that the queen was one of Zeus’ paramours, and as a reward for saving her, he turned me into a god.” He looked down at his hands. “I was honored at the time, of course. Anybody would be. I didn’t realize it yet, but he had done it to use me, because he saw my potential as his ‘information man’.” He shrugged helplessly, and looked up at Apollo. 

“Do you regret accepting?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” Demarus admitted, looking a little guilty. “Being immortal opens doors, yes, but other times…” He trailed off, clearly searching for the right term.

“Sometimes life feels too endless for anything you do to be meaningful,” Apollo suggested. They looked at each other, as if seeing each other in a new light for the first time. With a new understanding, and a new lens through which to look. 

Demarus smiled, nodding. “Exactly.”

Chapter Text

Jupiter’s cuffs had been buzzing with latent electricity for days, now, as Apollo looked behind him from the steps of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus at the vastness of New Rome in the light of the setting sun hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. The pain wasn’t unmanageable, per se, but it did get particularly annoying when he was trying to get some shut-eye and his father’s annoyance with him interrupted what little sleep he could get on the long two-week journey to camp. 

 But now, as he turned to face the golden doors of the temple of his father, where he knew the man himself waited inside with a lightning-laced hand and anger in his heart, the pain of the cuffs was dulled by his own hand, and his own fury. 

Diana had placed her hand on the door, waiting for him to give the go-ahead. Demarus shifted anxiously beside him, but Apollo was not worried. Which was probably stupid, all things considered, but oh well. He nodded to her, and the heavy doors opened with a push. 

Twelve chairs were seated in a circle around the central hearth, ten of which were occupied, all in the same order in which they normally sat in the hall on Olympus. Jupiter sat in the furthest seat, the towering statue of himself right behind him in a rather ominous display of his power. 

There weren’t really words to describe what Apollo felt in that moment, after almost three years of torment and not a singular sighting of his tormentor. If he didn’t know any better, it was some morbid combination of fear, anger and disgust. Upon closer examination, there was sadness there too, for the person his father used to be, and had chosen to toss aside in favor of the one who was now standing from his seat, the Master Bolt crackling in his hand. Terminus’ absence had been utilized, then. 

Well, two could play that game. Apollo brought around his golden bow to hold it inconspicuously, but still in an obvious position that screamed ‘ hey, I’m angry and dangerous, too’ . The cuffs burned into his flesh. He ignored them and strode forward, Diana to his right, Demarus shuffling off to the side to linger by the wall. 

“Apollo.”

“Father,” he said, carefully playing the insolent child card and making a smug little face. Bacchus snorted into his fist and winked as Apollo passed to take his seat. It had collected dust (is two weeks long enough to collect dust? Or was it symbolic? Did Jupiter have someone make his seat dusty to give the illusion that he wasn’t returning?). Making a show of wiping the dust off, he sat, crossed his legs, and grinned out at his family, who all watched him with a morbid curiosity, eyes darting between him and Jupiter like some tennis match to the death. 

Neptune looked like he was waiting for a good meal, Juno looked expectant, and Mars leaned in from Apollo’s left to whisper. “Where have you been?”

“House arrest.”

Mars snickered. “Good to see you.”

Weird. Okay, then. “So,” he leaned back, having serious deja vu to the moment a few years ago when he had rejoined the Council after his last stint as a mortal. “Made any progress?”

Everyone looked to Jupiter, who was glaring at Apollo, clearly trying to make out what information he had gathered. 

“Any at all?” he prompted the room at large, but maintained eye contact with his father. “Or have you just been sitting up here this whole time?”

Grudgingly breaking eye contact, he turned to the rest of his family to see Ceres made a face that basically said ‘pretty much’, Venus at least having the awareness to look apologetic. 

“Did you perhaps know of our king’s intention to commit genocide?” he asked, keeping his tone light if not for diplomacy, then just for fun. “Just collecting a general opinion survey, how do we feel about that?”

That got the reaction he was hoping for. Ten out of ten raised fingers or made faces that indicated that they were, in fact, aware of this particular scheme. Jupiter’s face grew dark: a secret poorly kept, then. 

“I’m not a fan,” Neptune raised a hand, pointedly ignoring his brother’s face. Juno, Diana, Venus, Bacchus, and Mercury all nodded in agreement. 

Ceres shrugged. “I don’t care.” 

Mercury made a funny sound. “Uh, you should .” 

Hephaestus was silent, and Minerva looked like she was at war with herself (who knew, maybe she was - Athena couldn’t be a fun brain-mate, pun intended). 

Jupiter rose to his feet, raising the Master Bolt. " This is not up for discussion ,” he thundered, and the room fell silent. 

“Mm, I feel like it should be,” Apollo kept his tone playful still, but stood up as well. “Considering that quite a few of our children will die because of you. And for what? Because of a prophecy?”

Jupiter stalked forward, the Master Bolt crackling dangerously. The hairs on Apollo’s arms stood on end, but he gripped his bow tighter, and it glowed with fierce light. “I do this to protect Olympus-” he started, but Apollo didn’t let him finish, the light airiness dropping instantly, replaced by a better representation of Apollo's feelings on the matter: anger and disgust again.

“You’ve endangered Olympus. And the demigods, and the mortals. But that was always your plan, wasn’t it? A bad plan, by the way.”

Juno cleared her throat. “We do have larger issues, step-son.” She spread her hands, ignoring Apollo’s wrinkled nose at the familial term. “We are mortal, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I was getting to that,” he pointed out, waving a hand in front of his father’s indignant face, and choosing to likewise ignore the urge he felt to argue that being mortal was the lesser of the two problems at hand. 

Jupiter truly looked like he was about to explode into a ball of lightning, and Apollo had no doubt he would have if his mortal body wouldn’t have likewise exploded in the process. But Jupiter himself was just a man, now, having no trace of the godly power that Apollo felt simmering under the surface. That was the thing about turning your children mortal one too many times - they become rather practiced at the loopholes of using godly power in times of selfless need, which Jupiter had yet to learn (if he ever did). The only particularly dangerous thing was the presence of the Master Bolt, but Apollo felt safe knowing he had his own divine item in hand as well. The lingering thought of whether or not he would have been able to confront his father like this without these safety nets in his own favor was pushed away for the sake of the conversation at hand. 

Mars’ eyebrows were low. “When you say he has endangered Olympus … ” He sat back, regarding his father with a critical eye. “Are you saying Jupiter is responsible for our current plight?”

“Being mortal?” Apollo made sure to look at Jupiter as he confirmed. “Yes.”

Jupiter snarled. “I have done no such thing-”

“That’s a lie,” Apollo snapped, and he knew everyone in the room believed him (god of truth, and all that). “I know what you did. It might not be your direct responsibility, but don’t pretend you’re completely innocent. Don’t pretend like you have no ill-intent for at least some of us here.” 

At that moment, it was easy to see when Jupiter realized that he had been cornered by his own mistakes, with no way out. Everyone in the room knew Apollo spoke the truth, as was his domain, so the validity of Apollo’s words was uncontested. He couldn’t fight his way out with a certainty that he would live to tell the tale because of the golden bow in Apollo’s one hand, the other carefully lingering by his quiver, ready to be drawn by one of the two best archers in the world. He couldn’t give himself up, either to imprisonment or to the hands of Thanatos - his pride and the scope of his unfinished plans would never allow him to. And he had already lost the favor or support of most of the Council who did not wish to see more of their children burned and were also about to learn who was responsible for their notable lack of ichor. So he remained silent as Apollo explained everything. 

He started with Estelle Blofis. It seemed most of the Council were already aware of this particular detail relating her to the prophecy: ‘the poet’s words’. 

So he then told them about Iris’ betrayal against Jupiter, and how she showed him and Demarus where Jupiter had been when the proverbial lights had gone out on Olympus. He told them about the dark room, the shadow of a person named Hanpa, and the deal that had been proposed. Jupiter’s face was impassable all through this. He did not move to sit again, but stayed facing Apollo, listening as his plans and actions were revealed.  

Apollo moved on - how he had woken to the ruins of Camp Half-Blood, skipping over the details of Gracie’s death and burial. Those, he would keep to himself for now. But he told them about Shane and his invention of monster-free access to the internet. Vulcan shifted in his seat at the mention of the son he must have thought dead. 

“With Shane’s help, we found out who the staggering one is,” Apollo said, watching as the room came alive with curiosity. “Turns out,” he made sure he was looking at Jupiter for the reveal to catch his fullest reaction, “the staggering one is Hanpa, the same person our dear king made a deal with.” 

They were all shocked, of course, and all slowly turned to Jupiter, who was taming his reactions as best he could. But Apollo had seen. And he started laughing. It was quiet, but a laugh all the same. 

“He didn’t know,” he announced, calming himself. He nodded to Demarus. “Tell them.”

Demarus stepped forward and recited almost word-for-word: “Hanpa is the god of evil, and the god of all evil forces.” 

“So you’re saying…” Minerva looked horrified at Jupiter's stupidity, her Athena instincts winning out just a bit. “That Jupiter made a deal with a god of evil, and didn’t know it. And all it would have taken was a simple internet search.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Apollo nodded. 

Venus looked like she might have permanent forehead creases with how wrinkled her forehead was. “Why?” she asked incredulously. 

“I know that as well,” Apollo said. Jupiter’s face twitched just enough to indicate his extreme displeasure at the situation he found himself in, and had clearly not expected Apollo to have done such thorough research. Well, what was a god to do when he had been on house arrest for two and a half years?

“He was looking for a tablet,” Apollo continued. “In reference to the Tablet of Destinies. It is a Mesopotamian artifact that grants the bearer the power to be ruler of the universe. That was how he was planning on overpowering anybody opposed to his destruction of mankind of the Fifth Age. And that was what he wanted from Hanpa. He probably didn’t even mean to turn everyone mortal, but he’s too proud to admit it.” 

Apollo knew he wasn’t giving the rest of the Council much of a choice in the situation - if Jupiter got his hands on the Tablet, even after the whole ‘being turned mortal’ kerfuffle, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill every one of them for simply knowing his crimes. It would be difficult to replace them in any other circumstances, but with the power of being ruler of the universe, it would be easy. 

Jupiter needed to be dealt with right away then, if they had any hope of living to stop Hanpa from obtaining the Tablet either. Because a primordial god of evil hailing from one of the oldest pantheons known to man with the power of the Tablet also sounded like a recipe for disaster. 

Everyone else seemed to have come to the same conclusion, and were now watching Jupiter and Apollo examine each other closely, waiting for him to deliver the sentence they all expected: death. 

The cuffs on his wrists surged with fresh electricity as Jupiter realized what the most sensible action would be. It was what Jupiter himself would do. 

I should kill him , Apollo found himself thinking through the haze of fresh pain that he carefully wiped from his mind. It is the best way . His bow and quiver were right there. Patricide was their most heinous crime, yes, but nobody would question it at this point. The Council might even help him get away with it. If he did not do it now, he might forever lose the chance to do it without consequence. 

But his hands felt too heavy. He couldn’t bring them up to fire the killing shot, and it wasn’t even for the pain that Jupiter’s power was now channeling into the cuffs. His own anger nearly dissipated as he looked upon his father, the man he should kill. 

He knew Jupiter wouldn’t say anything, now. He wouldn’t defend himself, because it would necessitate admitting he was wrong, which was something Jupiter had never been able to do. But foolishly, he wanted to give him the chance. 

“Jupiter will face trial, like anybody else,” he finally said, vaguely observing the confused and surprised reactions from his family at his lack of typical god-like behavior. Any one of them would have (or liked to think they could have) killed Jupiter on the spot. Now, they would think Apollo a coward for not delivering the death blow there, not knowing it was cowardice of a different kind. 

As Diana turned to summon a few of her Hunters to lead Jupiter away to await his aforementioned trial, Vulcan stood, to Apollo’s surprise. His quietest brother rarely drew attention to himself, but limped over to Apollo and held out a hand. “Your wrists,” he mumbled. 

It was only then that Apollo realized that the cuffs must have been Vulcan’s creation. “You made them?” he asked, lacking in any possible accusatory tone as Vulcan moved the sleeve of Apollo’s jacket up a bit to access a clasp that appeared only at the touch of a ring that he wore. 

Vulcan nodded as the first cuff came undone, then the second. The skin underneath was burned, raw, and throbbing, but Apollo simply pulled his sleeves back down. 

“I didn’t know he would use them on you,” Vulcan mumbled as he tucked the cuffs into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants. When Apollo didn’t say anything in response, he shuffled awkwardly, glancing up at their father, who was silently stewing, awaiting the arrival of his escorts to New Rome’s prison cells. “Thank you… for helping Shane,” he muttered, then stepped back towards his seat. 

Reyna and Hunter Kowalski followed Diana into the temple shortly after, eying the gathered Council in confusion. Reyna, carrying a heavy pair of manacles that Diana must have told her to find, elbowed Hunter as she saw Apollo, and the girls both beamed at him. He winked back. 

“Jupiter is under arrest,” Diana explained to the girls. “Please escort him to the prison cells. Mars will accompany you.”

Mars raised an eyebrow at her, but obliged, hefting his spear, grabbing the manacles and chaining his father without much ceremony. “C’mon.” 

Jupiter had seemingly given up on hiding all traces of emotion. His face was full of unbridled hatred as he passed Apollo on his way out. “You will pay for this,” he said, voice low and measured and dangerous.  He eyed the rest of them slowly, finally landing on his wife, who cradled the Master Bolt in her hands and did not meet his gaze. 

“Expect me.” Then he turned and let himself be led out.

Chapter Text

Will had never been very good at running. Not really his choice of cardio. But, you know, if someone was chasing him with a knife, sure, he’d sprint his heart out. 

He wasn’t being chased by a knife-wielding madman at the moment, but he sure as hell was sprinting. 

He’s back. I saw him. Went into Jupiter’s temple with Diana and Jupiter left in chains fifteen minutes later, Thalia had said breathlessly as she hailed him down where he had been walking alone through New Rome. 

The crowd was thick and loud as he glimpsed it from a few streets away. Demigods, nature spirits, and gods alike were cheering, yelling, or crying (hopefully with joy) as the Council walked among them, proclaiming their freedom from the hands of the murderous king (not that anyone really knew what that meant, just yet). 

He searched fruitlessly for a head of golden-blond hair the same shade as his own. He didn’t dare enter the crowd for fear of being trampled, but the throng surged with newcomers, threatening to overtake him. 

Bodies pushed him back up the hill he had shuffled down, and he used the higher vantage point, looking and searching. 

Mercury had stood up on something and was addressing the crown, according to his domain as messenger of the gods. Will couldn’t hear because the crowd was still so loud. 

A gentle hand closed around his wrist, and he would have jerked back if he hadn’t instinctively known who it was. He flung himself around and gazed into the eyes of his father for the first time in too long. 

The new yet oh-so-familiar face attached to the hand was beaming, and looked more like Apollo than ever before, with tan skin, a kindly face, and eyes like the sun itself. Gone was the shining mask of the old Apollo, gone was the mortal form of Lester that had made every cell in Will’s body scream on red alert for fear for his father’s safety. Gone even was the tumultuous character that had taken his place for that one good year, the nervous one that still tried with all his might. The man that stood before him looked like he had been pulled straight from Will’s wild imaginings of what the mythic god Phoebus Apollo had looked like. 

“ Dad .” 

The hug he was pulled into felt like being covered in a pile of clothes fresh from the dryer, or like the overwhelming pull of a harmony when it hits just the right crescendo. His father’s hands cupped his cheeks, where he felt the perpetual calluses of a long-time musician against the skin there. 

He was probably crying - an inherited family trait at this point, but without shame. He gripped Apollo’s jacket-clad forearms like he was afraid he would leave. But he wouldn’t, Will was sure of it this time. 

Apollo’s eyes were glassy, and Will could see upon closer inspection that they weren’t only gold like he had thought, but with a ring of blue around the outside, like a sun on a cloudless day. 

“Cool eyes. Central heterochromia on purpose?” he sniffled, grinning. 

Apollo laughed and laid a kiss on his forehead, then turned and pulled him close by the shoulders, leading him away from the crowd. “Accident, actually.”

Will craned his neck to where he could see Mercury still making his announcement. “What’s he saying?”

Apollo waved his free hand. “Same thing I told him, just with a bit more flourish. Ever the public speaker.” 

Will slung his own arm around Apollo’s shoulders, bumping his bow, and smirked. Apollo wrinkled his nose playfully as he got the joke. Will hadn’t been tall enough to do that last time - they had walked like this together in the streets of Houston with their fingers sticky with the remnants of Will’s favorite ice cream and pretending to be brothers if anyone asked just because Will had thought it was funny. But even though they could still pass as brothers (Apollo could only look about six or seven years older), they were almost the same height now. Wait until he sees Austin , Will thought to himself, still grinning. 

He was begging to ask the million questions that had been flooding through his brain for the last two and a half years: Where have you been? Is it Zeus’ fault? Why was he trying to kill Maggie? What’s going on between you and him? But he refrained, because he knew he’d get the answers eventually. Leave it to everyone else to keep secrets and hide information. Apollo never had. 

Will chattered up and down the streets of New Rome about anything and everything. About college, Nico, and everything else he knew Apollo would have asked about anyways. Apollo watched him the entire way, and they spent the next half-hour just enjoying each other’s company. Apollo asked about Naomi, when Will was about to talk about her anyways, asked about how Bob was doing, even when he probably didn’t care either way but asked because he knew it was important to Will. 

Will told him how the last two weeks had been, and they walked in silence for a moment with the heavy grief of Gracie’s death still weighing down their shoulders. 

“I gave her beads to Shane,” Apollo said as an afterthought as they neared their destination. 

“He’s alive?” Will asked, relief flooding through him - Nico’s powers had been giving him an inconclusive answer as to Shane’s status since Gracie died. 

Apollo nodded, smiling ever so slightly despite the topic at hand. “Sally is going to help him get to the Waystation, when he’s ready.” Will nodded, glad that there was at least some good news in all this death and despair. 

Maybe the tides would turn, though. With his father returned, Will felt a surge of security that he’d never really felt before, until he realized that this was how regular mortals must feel when their own fathers come to save the day. He suddenly felt like a little kid on the playground, hands on his hips and saying ‘ my dad is cooler than your dad, loser! ’, and knowing with his whole tiny little being that it was true. 

The dorm buildings of New Rome University towered above them. Will gestured and Apollo followed him all the way to the end of the row of dorms and into the last one. They took the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked onto a hall meant for twenty-four, that forty-five demigod refugees had crowded into. 

“If only this place stretched like the Waystation does,” he heard Apollo sympathize as Will explained this to him. 

Will peered through the window to see all his siblings in the common room to their right: Austin, Kayla, Jerry, Yan, and Maggie. He opened the door and Apollo followed. 

Kayla promptly burst into tears the second Apollo walked through the door. Yan dropped a soda with a loud thunk, gaping with wide eyes. Austin burst into maniacal laughter, Jerry looked smug with that permanent I told you so look in his eyes, and Maggie looked a little confused. 

It was a mad stampede: four demigods hurling themselves from the couch and all simultaneously tackled their father to the floor. 

“Mind the bones, they’re breakable,” Apollo wheezed from the floor, but beaming all the same as he kissed each one of them on the head. 

Will beckoned Maggie, who wandered over with a blanket tucked around her, eyes wide and a little scared. He pointed to Apollo, who had stood up and was berating a grinning Austin for growing taller than him with a still-sobbing Kayla bowed into his shoulder. 

“That’s Dad,” he said close to her ear. “He’s come home.”

In five-year-old fashion, she gasped loudly and, squealing, rushed at Apollo’s legs. Apollo, not missing a beat as she started to trip over her blanket, caught her and pulled her up, kissing her all over the face. “Hello!” he said, delighted with the overwhelmingly enthusiastic greeting by his youngest child. 

“My name is Maggie,” she said, suddenly gaining some uncharacteristic shyness. 

“I know,” he smiled, and guided her hands away from her face, with the other well-practiced hand carefully holding her up. “I picked it out.”

Maggie giggled like someone possessed, then threw her arms around her father’s neck. Everyone else followed her lead, and soon the hug turned into a throng of forehead kisses, laughter, and the occasional sniffle. 

Teary-eyed and smiling, they sat back on the couches, with the coffee table as their home hearth, and talked. Twenty minutes in, the door opened again, and a crowd of seven entered. 

Will might have thought it was a mistake, if he hadn’t recognized Asclepius as the one leading them. “Ah,” he said, smiling genially. “Thalia said you were here.” The six others behind him peered at them all. All adults, and if Will wasn’t mistaken, all gods. 

“Oh, there you are,” Apollo grinned over his shoulder at them. “I was beginning to wonder why my shadows had gotten to.” 

Another man towards the front, clearly the class clown among them, grinned at them with a very Hermes-like glint in his eyes. “Itty bitty mortal siblings!” he snarked, then approached, leaning down to wrap his arms around Apollo’s shoulders from behind. “‘Sup, pops.” Asclepius likewise crouched beside his father for a hug. 

“Oh, we’re being so rude,” the man waved a bandage-heavy hand, then winced as he remembered that he was injured. Occupational hazard, Will guessed. He beckoned the others forward, all greeting Apollo with hugs and cheek kisses: two more men, and three women, who looked like they might be triplets. Will gaped as he realized what this was: their godly siblings come to visit. 

“That’s Asclepius,” the guy gestured. “But you probably knew that. Doctor vibes, right?” Everyone laughed, Asclepius shrugging in half-hearted agreement. 

“Only slightly less famous is me, Aristaeus,” he continued, gesturing dramatically at himself. 

The next man snorted. He was beautiful in a slightly haughty way, but his eyes glimmered with perpetual joy. “I’m Hymenaios,” he said in a melodic voice, interrupting Aristaeus, who frowned and crossed his arms in a playful manner. 

The last man was one Will had seen before in New Rome, and would never have guessed he was his own brother. If anything, he might have thought he was Nico’s sibling, for all the emo vibes he was giving. He looked like he had come straight from the crowd of a My Chemical Romance concert in the early days of the band, with dark hair streaked with bright red and brushed in front of his face, dark eyeliner, and nails painted black. “Ialemus,” he said, nodding by way of greeting, and held out a fist for Apollo. Apollo bumped it with his own, hardly daring to look over at his mortal children, who were all having a very hard time not bursting into laughter. 

The three women greeted them all at once, solidifying Will’s triplet theory. Nete, Mete, and Hypate reminded him vaguely of the Muses, with the way they all shifted in and out of each other’s sentences. 

The demigods introduced themselves as well. Hymenaios raised an eyebrow at his father. “Only five?”

“Six,” Apollo swatted him away. “Victoria lives in Washington with her husband and babies.” Hymenaios nodded in approval. 

“So, you’re all gods?” Kayla asked as their seven newcomers found seats. 

Apollo nodded. “Aristaeus is the god of rustic arts-”

“Consider me the god of being a jack of all trades,” Aristaeus interrupted.

“And bees,” sniggered one of the triplets. Nete, if Will remembered right - she was the one with cowrie shells braided into her hair. “Don’t forget the bees.”

“Bee keeping , among other things,” Aristaeus corrected his sister, frowning. 

“Nete, Mete, and Hypate are goddesses of harmony,” Apollo explained. “Ialemus is the god of funeral songs, and Hymenaios is the god of marriage ceremonies.”

“That’s ironic,” Yan smirked. 

Will agreed. Hymenaios, of them all, was most like Apollo in terms of his looks, but his domain was laughably outside of Apollo’s domain-zone. Ialemus, on the other hand, was quite the opposite on the outside, but funeral songs, even if they were on the darker side of the larger music spectrum, were definitely more similar to his siblings than marriage ceremonies. 

Aristaeus flapped a hand. “Well, god of funeral songs if you’re the Ancient Greeks. As society progressed, he kind of became the god of sad songs in general.” The mortal kids all looked at him, surprised. So, the class clown was smarter than he appeared. “What? Jack of all trades, remember? That includes history!”

“Gotta love a sad song,” Mete simpered sarcastically as she pulled her flute up to her mouth and blew a G that would have made Gerard Way proud (another thing Will always grumbled about - even though he hadn’t inherited an ounce of musical skills from either of his parents, he still had perfect pitch).

Ialemus’ face twisted in a mixture of horror, exasperation, and tears. “You mother-”

Asclepius smacked him on the leg and jerked a thumb toward the demigods. “Child ears, brother.” 

“Oh.” Ialemus nodded his head to each of them in turn. “Apologies.”

“I meant the five-year-old, but oh well.” 

They all laughed. Will watched Apollo survey his progeny with a thoughtful eye and a tremulous smile. He caught his eye and winked. 

The room got louder as more people entered. Rachel and Nico were among the first, and Rachel nearly bowled Apollo over with the force of her hug. Nico didn’t touch Apollo, but gave him one of his rarer genuine smiles. 

Diana and some of her Hunters joined them, bearing pizza. More and more people, mortals and gods alike visited, some coming in all the way to share a meal by their coffee-table hearth, others peeking in just to say hello. 

Mars entered after a few hours, leaning close to Apollo and saying something in a low voice, shaking his head. 

Apollo’s face, which before had been shining brightly with a smile and reflecting on all the other people in the room, dimmed as his eyebrows twisted in frustration. After a moment's thought, he nodded to Mars and said something that Will only caught one word of: tomorrow . Tonight was for family around a hearth. 

Apollo gestured to the pizza, and Mars took a slice after a pause. He raised it in thanks and departed. 

The party dimmed after not long, and people started leaving and going to bed. The crowd thinned and the pizza had gone stale, and Apollo had tucked Maggie into bed. Will thought he might just take a leaf from Luke’s book and try for three rebirths to achieve the Isles of the Blest, because if those barbeque parties were anything like this one, he wanted them all. 

Chapter Text

He had been trying to sleep. Honestly. But the room was stuffy, with him and Austin of them crammed together on the floor and Yan snoozing on the only real bed in the room. Quietly, he snuck out of the room and closed the door as quietly as possible. 

The light of the common room was still on despite the hour: nearly five o’clock in the morning. Apollo had chosen to camp out on the couch in there, but clearly sleep had evaded him as well. 

He crossed down the hall, intending to have a late night/early morning sleepover when the figure in the room came into view from the glass panes on the door. 

Apollo was wrestling with a set of bandages around his wrist with his face twisted in pain and frustration. Will’s stomach curled uncomfortably at the sight of what Apollo was trying to bandage: thick burns on both wrists, maybe third degree if Will’s judgment from a distance was reliable. 

He was talking, too, having a hushed conversation with another person in the room. Will could only see the back of the man: snow-dusted, sweater-clad shoulders and a head of long, thin locs decorated with golden charms. 

Apollo was having trouble with the bandages - clearly the pain of the burns themselves limited his range of motion. Will battled the urge to go in and help but also to give his father the privacy of the conversation. 

He chose to linger in the shadows of the hall, but close enough to hear the conversation. 

The voice of the unknown man was deep and soothing. “Let me help. Please?”

Apollo grudgingly handed the bandages to the man, who rifled through a container of other medical supplies to select new disinfectants and ointments, the remnants of Apollo’s first attempt still littering the floor. 

“On the upside,” the man said as he knelt in front of Apollo and his side profile came into view: a rather handsome, bearded face with dark skin and large eyes. Even though Will could only see half his face, he was sure he had seen him before… “I have heard that ambrosia and nectar won’t kill us in our mortal forms.”

“That’s a relief,” Apollo mumbled with a touch of sarcasm and a wince as Demarus did his best to wipe off the sloppily-coated ointments. “You didn’t have to come, I could have waited until morning.”

“It is morning. And I am an early riser.” 

“Five-thirty is obscene, Demarus. Maybe in the summer, but not in the winter.” Apollo grumbled with good humor. The man, Demarus (who’s name Will now realized he had heard before - the same man who, by Percy’s account, had reported Estelle to Zeus and started this whole mess) was carefully reapplying the bandages with middling skill, but better than Apollo had been faring. 

“I simply saw your light was on and realized that you probably hadn’t treated these. Because you have no self-preservation even when you are a god.” Demarus looked up at Apollo as he finished one wrist, who made a bashful face at the accuracy of the accusation. 

Most of the treatment of the second wrist was done in silence, but before Demarus secured the bandage in place, he paused and looked up again. “After all this is over, they will expect you to take the throne.” 

Apollo sighed and slouched back a bit, accidentally pulling his wrist from Demarus’ grasp and the bandage becoming loose. “Yeah. I know.” Demarus eyed him, waiting for elaboration as he fixed the bandage again. Apollo frowned. “The problems of the throne will not be solved by filling it again. I can’t take the throne, it’ll just restart the cycle. Son overthrows the father and then makes the exact same mistakes. I can’t do it. It has to end.” 

Demarus didn’t say anything for a moment. “I know cycles, Apollo. This one… you ended this cycle a long time ago. I don’t think you have the same things to fear.” 

Apollo’s eyes narrowed as he took in Demarus’ words. “You think I should take the throne because, what, I’m a better person than my father? That’s a low bar.” He sighed and tried to pull his hands away as Demarus finished. 

Demarus held his hands fast. “It is a low bar, yes. You have already surpassed it. Apollo-”

Apollo shook his head and yanked his hands away. “Power does things to people. We both know it. Jupiter wasn’t always the tyrant he is now, you know. He might have been just like me. But by not taking the throne, I’m not giving myself the chance to become like that - committing genocide on my own people because I’m too afraid to lose my crown. You should know that!” He gestured wildly then winced at the excessive movement of his wounded wrists. “We’ve seen civilizations fall because kings are afraid to lose their power, and the one that follows it falls victim to the exact same thing. If we want to fix Olympus, then we have to start fresh. If I have to take a throne, it won’t be my father’s. It will be a throne my people and I have designed, together .” 

“You’re right.” Demarus took Apollo’s hands again, which had fallen to rest in his lap. Smiling, he pressed a gentle kiss to each one and looked back up, nodding. “You’re right again.”

Apollo didn’t smile, but gazed down at Demarus with something in his eyes that Will couldn’t quite read. 

“But,” Demarus said, standing up and stepping back, placing the medical supplies back into the container and tucking it under his arm. “Your people can’t design a throne with you if they’re fighting for their lives. They need a leader, and they’ll call you king whether or not you like it. I know you don’t want it, but they need it.”

Apollo was silent for a long moment, then sighed again, nodded. “If I don’t do it, someone else will. Someone else who wouldn’t hesitate to take the throne when Hanpa is dealt with and Olympus is safe. So… for now ,” he said, raising a finger for that specific condition, “tell Mars and Minerva my answer is yes.” 

Demarus tilted his chin down and raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything about Mars and Minerva.” 

“They were asking, though, weren’t they?”

Demarus sighed, then laughed to himself. “This is what I get for lying to the god of truth.”

Apollo’s lips twitched. “Lies of omission are still lies.” 

Demarus bowed his head and moved to take his leave. “My king.”

“ Ugh . Don’t start.”

Demarus chuckled. “My lord, then.”

“ No. Goodnight, Demarus.”

“It’s already morning, my liege.” 

“Fates, please stop.” Apollo was laughing as Demarus turned to the door and pulled it open.

Will was rooted to the spot he stood in. “It’s you,” he muttered as Demarus’ eyes found his. Because he’d finally realized where he’d seen Demarus’ face. In the manic events of the past few weeks, he had forgotten all about the dreams that had plagued him and his siblings for over two years - Apollo being locked in the Sun Palace for defending Jerry from Jupiter, shown in fragmented visions. And every time, just before the vision of the doors of the Palace of the Sun being changed shut, was the stranger’s face, saying silent words. The stranger who was no longer a stranger, but was staring him in the face right now, the silent words no longer silent as the face finally came into the third dimension. 

“Ah. Hello, child.”

“Will?” Apollo stood up from his seat and strode up behind Demarus. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s him! From the dream,” Will gestured up at Demarus’ face, who cringed a little.

“Oops. Sorry about that.” 

Apollo’s brow furrowed. “What dream?” Then he wheeled on Demarus. “You sent my child dreams? That’s my thing.”

“Child ren , plural,” Will corrected. “We all had the same dream for the entire time you were gone, about what happened with you and Jerry and Jupiter. And he’s in it!”

Apollo raised an eyebrow at Demarus, waiting for an explanation. 

Demarus seemed to shrink under the spotlight. “I just… I wanted them to know what had happened. If Jupiter decided to kill your son, nobody would know the whole truth of the matter, and I wanted your children to rest easy knowing that you hadn’t abandoned them by choice.” His shoulders were close to his ears, the easiness of the conversation Will had been eavesdropping on before forgotten. Apollo gaped at him. 

Will snorted. “We would have known that either way.” Through his peripheral vision, he caught Apollo shooting him a sad but tremulous smile. 

Demarus bowed his head in apology. “Yes, I realize that now. My deepest apologies for the incessant nature. Sending dreams isn’t really my forte.” 

“No kidding,” Will said, but grinned because at least one of his life’s great mysteries had been solved. “Who are you, really?”

“Demarus. I am the god of historians and the written word.” 

Apollo smiled for some reason. “Demarus was with me, the whole time.” Will raised an eyebrow, connecting Demarus’ placement with Apollo and his placement with Percy: as a spy. Apollo, seeing his dubious look, clarified: “Not by choice, of course.” 

Realization dawned again. “Then do you know who tipped off the satyr? The one who picked up Maggie?”

Demarus looked embarrassed. “That was me.”

Will gaped again, but realized with a shock that so was Apollo. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Apollo smacked Demarus across the arm. “You saved my daughter’s life and didn’t tell me?!”

Demarus shrugged. “I would have had to report that I told you.”

“Not in the last two weeks! You had plenty of time to say-”

“You were… you were grieving! It seemed so callous!” He splayed his hands as if to say ‘sorry not, sorry’, and Will burst out laughing at the incredulous look that had graced his father’s face. 

Apollo snorted and shook his head. “You would have been kind with it.” 

“I can only hope,” Demarus conceded. Something unspoken passed between the two of them, and for a moment, Will felt like he wasn’t even in the room with them. 

But then the moment ended, and Demarus made to leave again. “Well… I must give your answer to Mars and Minerva. I will see you later.” Apollo nodded and offered a little tight-lipped smile, then watched as Demarus turned and left again. 

“He’s a little weird,” Will wondered aloud as the door to the stairs shut behind him.

Apollo laughed. “Yeah, a bit. He’s an outcast. Comes with the job description, I guess.”

“Why is he an outcast?”

Apollo gazed at him for a moment. “He used to be mortal. But he never forgot it. He’s not really like the other gods in that way.” 

Will nodded, slowly comprehending it. “But he gets along with you. Because you’re both… humany gods, I guess.” 

Apollo chuckled. “Sure.” He gazed out the window beside him to the dark city below them. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

Apollo jerked his head towards the stairs. “C’mon.”

They descended in a steady silence. Will’s thoughts were racing, as they had been since the night before when Apollo had sat them all down and explained what had happened: Jupiter had made the deal with the staggering one that had turned all the gods mortal in exchange for a device that would allow him to bring about the Sixth Age and conquer anyone else who tried to stop him. And now, with the apparently very fresh decision on Apollo’s part: to arrest his father and take the throne of Olympus. Even if it was temporary, Will wasn’t quite sure how to feel. Proud, yes, that his father had defeated his own Nero, as Meg had said he would, but also worried, because that couldn’t be a light decision, and left so much room for error. 

“You heard that whole thing?” Apollo asked, as if reading Will’s mind. 

He shifted, then nodded. “Yeah. King of the gods.” Apollo’s face was drawn in conflicted and apprehensive shades when he looked over. “I’m glad it’s you, though,” Will said.

Apollo only smiled as they reached the bottom of the stairwell and stepped out into the snowy night. Will was only wearing a light jacket, but his powers kept him from being cold. Apollo didn’t look cold either, although his black jacket worn over a white henley was considerably thicker. He was also carrying his golden bow, which Will thought was a bit odd, but one couldn’t be too safe, all things considered. 

“What will you do now?” Will asked as they set off, destination unknown.

“Well, that was what kept me up,” Apollo snorted. “Mars says Jupiter is refusing to answer any questions, and we still don’t know nearly enough.”

“Like what?”

Apollo counted on his fingers: “What the deal actually was, who and where Hanpa really is, where the Tablet of Destinies is, what do we have to do to kill a god of evil , so on.” He sighed, dropping his hands. 

“So you don’t know where to start?” Will asked, his heart sinking a bit. He’d hoped for a bit more of a plan, even if Jupiter had only been arrested yesterday. 

Apollo flashed him a mischievous grin. “Oh, no. I know exactly where to start.” 

He didn’t elaborate further as they neared the outer edge of the city, where they were met by the sound of soft lapping of water over sand. The lake that was fed by the Little Tiber stretched out beyond them. Apollo stripped off his socks and shoes and, rolling up his pants, waded into the water. Will didn’t follow, equal parts confused out of it and also not really desiring to step into the freezing water. 

Apollo was soon far enough into the river for his liking, and then put his fingers in his mouth, whistling a perfect, quavering C note. 

A naiad popped out of the water, raising an eyebrow. Apollo said something to her that Will couldn’t quite hear, the naiad nodded, and disappeared beneath the waves again. 

Apollo waded back out of the river, then sat down on a rock to gracefully fix his pants, socks, and shoes, then picked up his bow again and grinned down at Will as they walked back into the city. “Tah-dah.”

“I have no idea what you just did.”

“Asked for a favor from… an old friend.” 

Will was about to ask for clarification before he saw that Apollo’s eyes had been drawn away to a looming shape on the horizon, out beyond the lake towards the Field of Mars, then past to the rolling hills of Oakland. Will thought it was just another hill at first, peeking out of the horizon with the height of a skyscraper, before the thing moved. 

“Go. The alarms,” Apollo said, far quieter than the situation called for. “Wake everyone up.”

Will watched, rooted to the spot, as the gigantic monster reared back its head and the ground shook below his feet with the volume. He clapped his hands over his ears and saw the glass of the buildings around him shatter. 

“Just kidding. No need for the alarms.” Apollo drew his bow and nocked it, running off down a street towards the stables. “Protect the others!” Then he was gone, and Will was alone with the mountainous monster stepping closer with feet like earthquakes. 

Chapter Text

“So much for sleep,” Percy muttered to Annabeth, helping her strap into her armor. The floor beneath them shook with the force of another massive rumbling roar from a growing army of monsters outside. 

“How did they even get here? How didn’t we see them?” Annabeth wondered out loud as she strapped her vambraces on, clearly expecting no response from Percy. “It’s like they came out of nowhere.”

Percy just nodded along like he was following her steady stream of consciousness. Sometimes that was easier than trying to contribute, especially when his nerves were on end and he was itching to stab some evil monsters. 

“Stick to me,” he told her as they stepped outside and were promptly assaulted by the pungent smell of smoke. Percy allowed himself a moment to gape at the sight: half of New Rome was on fire, monsters streaking through the half-dark like shadows against a wall, and screams filled the cold night air. A hulking tower of a beast stepped closer in the distance. 

Percy and Annabeth raised their swords in unison as they prepared to start hacking. 

Annabeth chopped the head off of a scorpion monster that Percy didn’t get a good glimpse at before it died. They paused for a moment, waiting for the headless body to disintegrate into dust. That moment didn’t come. The body slowly twitched and died, turning into a lifeless lump that Percy carefully stepped over. 

Annabeth turned back to gaze at the monster’s body. “It’s like the ones that attacked Camp Half-Blood. They take damage, but don’t immediately die.” She turned her head again just in time to see Percy skewer another monster through the chest. It snarled at him, snapping at his face, but slumped a moment later. “They don’t go to Tartarus,” she seemed to realize on the spot. “They’re not Greek or Roman.” 

“Mesopotamian,” Percy supplied as he pulled his sword out of the monster carcass. “Apollo said all this is happening because Jupiter made a deal with a Mesopotamian god of evil, right? So maybe this is payback from said god of evil.” 

“Probably,” Annabeth tilted her head and shrugged as they jogged down a couple empty streets, having no real destination in mind. “We need a plan.” 

“Got one in mind?”

“Always, Seaweed Brain.” 

Running and explaining a plan at the same time wasn’t easy work, but Annabeth had always proven herself capable of impossible feats. While huffing, she pieced her plan together:
“We don’t know how big this army is, so we should get to higher ground to get a better scope. Also, we need to figure out why they’re attacking, if there’s a target. Someone they want to kill, or something they want to get. Or if they’re here just to burn us down, which seems likely at this point.”

“And we need to figure out who’s leading this army and where they are,” Percy panted. “So we can kick their butt.” 

They ran into Frank on their way up to Temple Hill. “Have you seen Hazel?” he gasped breathlessly, fingers fumbling with his arrow where it was nocked into his bowstring. 

“No.” Annabeth peered around in the darkness, as if waiting for her to appear, but the darkness swallowed up their surroundings as they retreated away from the orange flames that were slowly eating their way through the city, illuminating the largest one creeping closer from the Oakland hills. “We’ll keep an eye out.”

Percy narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the forested boundary of the camp to determine the size of the monster army, but the dark was too thick. He only barely caught the dog-like monster lunging up from the grass in front of him, before he sliced it up the middle and it fell back to the ground in two even pieces. 

“This won’t be over any time soon,” Frank muttered as he stared down at the monster half at his feet. “There’s too many, and we don’t have the room to retreat. We either fight our way out, find a way to get rid of the whole army, or die.” 

“Thanks for that,” Percy said as he peered behind him. The temples seemed to glow eerily white in the light from the moon, now clearly visible for the first time in weeks because of the cloud cover. The cloud cover … “ Annabeth .” 

She’d seen where he was looking, and was probably coming to the same conclusion herself. Her eyes were wide, which was probably the more appropriate response to the insanely stupid thing they’d have to do with this information. “This could get us killed faster than the monsters.” 

“What are you talking about? What are you going to do?” Frank practically whimpered as he watched them. 

Percy gave him a half-hearted, completely mirthless smile. “We’re gonna hold Jupiter ransom.” 

Frank chuckled weakly and looked like he wanted to say ‘good luck with that’, but held his tongue. He nodded. “How can I help?”

“Tell us where he’s being held.” 

Frank directed them with a wavering finger. “The Council decided to keep him in a private cell underneath the Coliseum.” 

Percy and Annabeth left him on the hill at a run, dodging and killing monsters all the way. “What are we gonna do when we find him?” Percy whispered to her as they snuck around a particularly monster-infested alley. 

Annabeth considered. “We could beat him unconscious.” 

Percy laughed under his breath. “Sounds fun.”

She glared at him. “We don’t know how powerful he could be. When Apollo was mortal, he had moments where he regained some of his divinity. We don’t want that to happen with Jupiter, so we’ll need to be careful.”

“We’re going to surprise the king of the gods by knocking him out. In the overarching realm of ‘ careful’ , I don’t think this really falls under that definition.” 

She shook her head, fond despite the nerves Percy knew she must be feeling. “Are you mocking me? You’re mocking me. Don’t be smart, that’s my thing.”

There was a large stretch of open cobblestone between them and the entrance to the Coliseum. Monsters prowled the edges, mouths, claws, pincers, beaks, etc. all bloody. 

“We’re going to have to run for it,” Percy concluded. Annabeth frowned for a second, but she didn’t say anything, clearly coming to the same answer. 

“I don’t like it,” she whispered. “Maybe we should go around to- get down! ”

The thunderous sound of hooves on cobblestone was their only warning before some humongous shape came charging out of the darkness to their right. Percy barely dared peeking past his safe spot to watch what had happened. 

A massive horse, white with a golden, fiery mane had charged into the open square, then stumbled into the mass of monsters, throwing off its rider. The monsters all reared back, collecting at the far corner of the square to watch as the rider rolled to his feet and raised a nocked arrow in a gleaming golden bow. The arrow released, and the square lit up with a blinding light that made Percy’s vision go spotty and his ears ring. 

By the time his vision cleared, the rider was disappearing into the doors to the Coliseum, the horse was trotting off, and the monsters had been reduced to a particularly ashy gust of wind. “Apollo,” Percy and Annabeth said at the same time before taking the opportunity to follow. 

Percy had never been to the private cell below, but he took the stairs downwards, raising Riptide to cast a bronze-tinted light around him. He didn’t dare call Apollo’s name just yet. If Apollo had the same idea as Percy and Annabeth, then they really didn’t want Jupiter to know. 

“ Psst ,” someone called up at them from the bottom of the stairs. A lone figure, not clad in armor and bearing no weapon but a short knife, looked up at them. Jerry looked eerie, dressed in his white toga and orange beanie. His eyes were wide with fear, but he beckoned them down. 

“We followed your dad down,” Percy muttered to him as he followed Jerry down a corridor. 

“I know.”

“Jerry, you shouldn’t be here,” Annabeth tried to warn him. “You should get to safety.”

“No point,” Jerry said in short response. 

“What do you mean?” Percy frowned. “Your dad wouldn’t want you down here, did he see you when he came in?”

“He didn’t.” 

“Jerry,” Percy grabbed his arm. “This could get ugly.”

“It will,” Jerry said. 

Percy felt his frustration rising. These two word answers were reminding him why he didn’t like prophecies. “Jerry! Go back up!”

Jerry just smiled, without a trace of humor in his eyes. “I can’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” 

“Ugh.” Percy threw up his hands. “ Ugh . Fine. Whatever. Where are they keeping Jupiter?”

Jerry pointed ahead of them. “That way.”

Percy shoved Jerry behind him and marched down the dark hallway. At the end of the tunnel, he could see a light on, and the sounds of scuffling. 

Percy shushed Annabeth and Jerry, and pushed them both against the wall as the sounds continued. He heard a yelp and the sound of blood spattering the floor, and he almost charged straight into the fray before the light flickered out and everything went silent. 

“ What have you done? ” a pained voice hissed from the cell. “Why did you do it?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” another voice hissed, low and threatening. “It is all necessary.” 

The light flickered on and the voices stopped, and Percy reeled backwards. Where before the end of the hallway had been empty and void of people, a person was standing, oddly translucent against the harsh light through the doorway to the cell. Percy was hysterically reminded of some creepy thing that only moved when you weren’t looking at it, pulled straight from a demented nightmare. 

The shadow of a person didn’t move, but peered down the hall at them, cocking its head ever so slightly. Curious, not threatened. Childlike and playful in a sort of deranged way that foretold nothing but malice and death and pain. 

The shadow turned into the room and disappeared out of sight. Percy rushed forward, not thinking straight, but he needed to see what or who this thing was. 

The first thing he saw on the floor was half of a severed finger. Percy’s eyes followed the trail of blood to see Apollo flat on his back, blood-soaked arms trembling with the strength of keeping the knife out of his face. The knife Jupiter was holding. 

Percy raised Riptide, but it flew out of his hands as the shadow-thing came surging up out of his peripheral vision. 

“No-” Apollo shoved the knife aside and pushed fruitlessly against his father’s shoulder, smearing his own blood on the cloth. “ Out -” 

It took a second before Percy realized Apollo was talking to him . Ignoring the command, he knelt and, touching the ground below him, felt around for any water. The tug in his navel was strong here, and he pulled it up towards him with a grunt of effort. Water burst through the cracks in the stone of the cell around them, but neither Apollo nor Jupiter seemed to care. 

Apollo staggered to his feet, but Jupiter was faster, and backhanded Apollo across the face with so much force, Apollo crumbled to the floor again. Percy willed the water up towards him, faster and stronger, eyeing Apollo’s bow that had been flung to the side and now rested three feet from Percy’s right foot. He was a lousy shot, but Apollo had arrows and if he could just get the bow and shoot Jupiter and the creepy shadow-person that was watching from the corner and… just watching in a way that made goosebumps crawl up Percy’s arms and legs. 

Annabeth’s hand on the back of his shirt yanked him out of the way just in time before Jupiter’s fist nearly made contact with his face. He gaped for a second, allowing himself just a moment of clarity to realize that, if that punch had hit him, he would have died on the spot. Mortal or not, Jupiter was not to be messed with. 

Percy snatched Riptide up from the floor, holding it in front of him and effectively keeping Jupiter away. Apollo had stumbled to his feet again, his lip bleeding and his cheek already bright red with a forming bruise. Percy saw his eyes flick to his bow, now only a step away from Percy’s right foot. If he could just kick it…

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Jupiter huffed at them both. Percy widened his stance, peeking behind him to make sure Annabeth was still there. She was, but Jerry had gone. Good , Percy thought. Maybe he finally went back upstairs. The water was slowly pooling at the edges of the room. Percy could feel the pressure building. If they didn’t get a move on, the entire Coliseum would collapse under a mountain of water, and everyone inside would die. 

“I understand just fine,” Apollo said, pulling Jupiter’s gaze away from Percy, who stepped an inch to his right and readied his foot on the shaft of the bow. Is it rude to kick a god’s symbol of power? Oh, well. “It’s genocide. What’s so difficult to understand?” 

Jupiter opened his mouth to retort before Percy beat him to it. “You’re just a power-hungry idiot,” Percy yelled. Probably not the smartest thing to yell at a disgraced god, but what can you do? Using the volume of his voice, timed with Jupiter’s turn to Percy, the sound the bow made sliding across the ground behind Jupiter went virtually unnoticed. 

Behind Jupiter, Apollo had caught the bow, picked it up, and readied an arrow. But before he could shoot Jupiter through the neck, the monster-shadow-thing glitched , and then Jupiter was gone. 

Percy only just managed to swing his sword up in time to cut Apollo’s arrow out of the air before Apollo nocked another arrow and shot it at the shadow creature standing in the corner, but it disappeared and the arrow broke upon impact with the stone wall. Apollo huffed, and turned back to Percy, wincing. “Sorry about that.”

Percy meant to reply, but the sound of cracking stone and rushing water interrupted him. With the force of, well, a lot of force, the stone around them trembled and water gushed in from the walls. Annabeth and Apollo’s shoes were soaked through with freezing water in the matter of moments. 

Percy laughed weakly. “Sorry about that ,” but he froze before he could move towards the door. With rushing water filling his senses, he barely noticed the sound of a thick splash as the shadow creature reappeared. 

They all froze, gazing at the corner where it stood, faceless and transparent, with a freshly dropped body at its feet, clearly dead and wearing a bloodied white toga, a bright orange beanie sinking beneath the slowly collecting water. 

Percy was glad he couldn’t hear the sound that came out of Apollo’s mouth. The stone around them cracked again. None of them moved. 

“Who are you?” Annabeth yelled at it, her voice shaking as she carefully didn’t look at the body.

“ I am the chill on your flesh. The wound that never heals. The depth of your fear .” The creature only had eyes for Apollo. “ I have arrived .” Then it blinked away again. 

Apollo tried to stumble towards the body, but a fresh wave of water slammed into his front and he nearly fell. Percy grabbed his arm. “C’mon!” He attempted to push the water out of their way, trying to get them all out of the way of collapsing stone.

He pointedly didn’t look at Apollo’s face as they splashed through the water towards the exit, Percy trying to push the water out of their way. Being able to breathe underwater was all well and fine, but if he ended up stuck inside a collapsing building, being a son of Poseidon probably wouldn’t do him too much good. 

They tumbled out of the Coliseum just in time to hear the groaning, trembling, scraping sound of rock against rock, and then it all collapsed. Percy and Annabeth were thrown off balance as the cobblestone beneath them trembled, and they all felt a shower of pebbles and water fall over their heads. 

Percy took a moment and let himself just lay there for a second, his face pressed against the ground, Annabeth’s hand in his. Everything was quiet, he realized. The snarls and screeches of the monsters were gone, replaced only by the sound of crackling fires and the shifting of rocks as Apollo dug through the ruins, trying to find Jerry’s body. 

Chapter Text

Every single body they passed sent a jolt of ice through Percy’s veins. Every face they saw was a fresh thrill of please no . Annabeth’s hand shook in his as they walked on broken and scorched cobblestones through the beaten city. The tall, majestic buildings that used to frame the sky were all either burnt, crumbling, or splattered with blood from either people or monsters. 

The sound of hooves made them tense, and they both drew their weapons and spun around, Annabeth’s drakon-bone sword and Riptide pointing towards Hazel atop Arion, drenched in blood, dust, and sweat, her praetor’s cloak intact and rippling behind her. 

“Oh, thank the gods,” Hazel sighed as she drew close enough to see their faces through the firelight. 

“Hazel,” Annabeth mumbled, probably to herself, but it shook so much that Percy squeezed her hand a little tighter, for both of them. “Is everyone else-”

“Frank and Piper and Nico are okay,” Hazel nodded, dismounting Arion and hurrying up to them. She didn’t sheathe her spatha, but held it carefully behind her as she embraced them both. “I haven’t seen Reyna, or Thalia.” 

“I bet they were with Artemis,” Percy said.

Annabeth just nodded, still silent and gazing around the city, still flickering in flames. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “The monsters… they just left?”

Hazel peered around, too. Besides the scattered bodies of the assorted scorpion-hybrids, demon dogs, and bull-humans, there were none left. Even the towering, monstrous creatures had vanished. “It was around the same time the Colosseum fell. They all just dissolved back into the shadows.”

“They got what they came for,” Annabeth hummed. “Jupiter.”

“And to scare us. There was no need for a full frontal attack, but whoever’s leading this army did it anyway.” Hazel sighed and flicked a stray piece of hair away from her face. “I don’t think we lost too many in numbers, but I don’t think we can rebuild any of this fast enough to prepare for a second attack, if it comes. Maybe we should ask Jerry-”

“Jerry’s dead,” Percy blurted out, then winced at his own lack of tact. He hadn’t known Jerry well, but Hazel had worked with him for the last two years. 

Hazel’s face fell further, if that was at all possible. “H-how?” 

“Hanpa,” Annabeth said. “Mesopotamian god of evil, I’d bet anything.” 

“W- how do you know?” Percy blinked down at her. 

“The prophecy, remember? The staggering one draws near . That’s Hanpa, and that apparition or whatever it was said ‘I have arrived’, right?” 

“Oh.” Percy’s stomach had sunk to somewhere near his toes. If that was who was leading this army, if that was who they were up against, they had a lot of work to do. 

He peered behind him towards the hills, illuminated by the light of the moon. They probably had a couple more hours until sunrise. “We should burn the bodies,” he said. 

“I’ll get some pyres built on the Field of Mars,” Hazel agreed. “And let my father know.”

Morale was terrible, as everyone began digging through the city, looking for the bodies of their friends and family in the cold chill of the winter morning. News trickled in from opposite sides of the city: one of the Muses was dead, several minor gods, and quite a few nature spirits and satyrs. About two dozen demigods as well, but none of them bearing names that Percy knew besides one of his classmates from NRU. 

He huffed in annoyance as the scorched wooden beam he was trying to lift disintegrated in his hands. “Hang on,” he called down to the demigod trapped underneath it. 

“Uh, huh,” they called weakly, face tilted against the soot-streaked ground. “Take your time.”

“I won’t, but thanks anyways,” Percy replied, and the demigod huffed a laugh, then winced. 

Another set of hands gripped the beam to Percy’s right, and he peered over and tried not to scowl. Mars was observing the beam, clearly trying to figure out where best to lift it from without it breaking again. 

“What are you doing?” Percy muttered, loud enough that Mars could hear but quiet enough that the demigod wouldn’t. 

“Helping. Shut up and lift.” 

So, yeah, maybe Percy had needed help. Mars’ strength made the job ten times easier. The demigod crawled out from underneath the beam and collapsed on the ground, wincing in pain. “You alright?” Percy asked. 

“Yeah.”

“C’mon, kiddo,” Mars gestured and the demigod accepted his hand to stand up. “Healers’ tent.” Percy caught a glimpse of the SPQR tattoo - crossed spears. Same as Frank’s, so… Percy shrugged to himself as Mars led the demigod away. 

Percy, having nowhere else to go, followed Mars through the broken streets at a safe distance. Most of the bodies had been taken away and the fires put out, but it didn’t feel cheery by any means. Percy was reminded of the streets of Manhattan during the second Titans’ war - quiet, asleep, dead, or some combination of the three. 

The healers’ tent was the busiest place Percy had come across. Healers, mostly Apollo’s children and legacies, including Asclepius and his wife and children, were bustling around and tending to the campers. Even others, who Percy knew were lacking in medical training, were offering hands wherever available. He caught Nico’s eye, who as per usual, was standing off to the side, never one to impose his presence in a place of healing. Nico simply nodded his head by way of a greeting, and made no attempt to cross the courtyard to Percy’s side, which he understood. He wasn’t really sure if he wanted to talk to anyone right now, either. 

He could see the Field of Mars off to his right, already littered with pyres ready for bodies. There were no shrouds to be found, so the bodies had simply been covered in plain white sheets that fluttered eerily in the cold breeze, bright against the backdrop of the darkness. Sunrise would come soon. 

Percy just watched as Will Solace applied a healing salve to some minor goddess’ forehead. Tears were streaming down her face, and Percy assumed she was probably whining about how she’d scar, or something. But he watched as Will just nodded every so often, allowing her to continue crying, and Percy felt a pang of both sympathy and gratitude that it was Will patching her up, and not him. Percy wasn’t sure he’d have the patience. 

Hazel appeared at his side after a little while. Tear tracks had appeared on her cheeks, streaking through the thin layer of dust and grime that covered her face. “That’s all the bodies, I think.” Her voice was surprisingly steady, ever the picture of leadership. 

Sure enough, as Percy looked over towards the Field of Mars, about three dozen pyres were all topped with sheet-covered bodies. People had already started to form a ring around the site, some crying, some holding their friends and family, others just sitting on the ground, staring ahead with blank faces. The healers’ tent was clearing out, too, people slowly making their ways over to the pyres. Percy jerked his head to Hazel, and they walked over together. 

He found Annabeth’s side, who was watching her mother stand a ways away with Mars and some of the other members of the Olympic Council, facing the pyres and the crowd slowly swelling around them. Frank stood tall and silent beside her, Piper on his other side, as well as Thalia and Reyna. 

Apollo stood alone a ways off to their left, his face dry but blank and emotionless. Percy followed his gaze and observed the pyre directly in front of him. He couldn’t see the body underneath, but a waterlogged orange Camp Half-Blood beanie rested on top of the sheet. Jerry. 

Percy wondered if he should go over there and say something, but nothing came to mind. What could he even say? I’m sorry ? Or- he died a hero ? He wasn’t even sure if that second one was even true, he didn’t even know how Jerry had died. He’d just been… dead. Just a body on the floor, face down and inhumane. 

Percy believed he was experienced enough with deaths to know that there are good ones and bad ones. The good ones were surrounded by friends and family and no regrets, with a fulfilled life and dreams made happen. If they were on the battlefield, then they were painless, heroic, and done doing or protecting something you loved. 

Jerry’s death? Percy couldn’t even tell if part of it had been good. He thought Jerry might have known it was coming, with the way he refused to leave and his gift of prophecy and whatnot. He’d been brave, at least. 

But how to tell that to a grieving parent, was the other question. Not really something Percy had a whole lot of experience with, telling a god that their child was brave. Brave, but dead. 

Percy looked back to Apollo. His gaze hadn’t moved, but Maggie, his little five-year-old daughter, had taken his hand and was leaning on her father’s leg. Apollo’s other children had finally found release from the healers’ tent, and huddled together next to him. Yan was sniffling, Will was casting worried glances around his family, and Kayla’s face was as hard as stone as her father’s. 

Percy’s gaze darted to Apollo once more, his eyes finding a necklace that hadn’t been there before hanging from Apollo’s neck. A single bead and a sun charm. Jerry’s necklace. 

He turned away and took Annabeth’s hand in his as Pluto started giving the funeral rites. Definitely a strange experience, seeing as most of the time, it would be the augur or Pontifex Maximus, considering Roman tradition. But, Percy supposed, if any god would give the funeral rites, it made sense that it would be Pluto. 

Everyone was quiet, observing the traditions with respect. Nico and Hazel could be seen standing right behind their father. Chiron and the Council of Cloven Elders, led by Grover (who Percy breathed a sigh of relief to see was alright) stood in their own cohort. The legions, all having at least one member dead, stood mingled and united, and gods and goddesses lingered among the crowd, some standing awkwardly, others hand in hand with each other. Few, Percy could see, were standing with their demigod children besides Apollo. 

Even Neptune didn’t spare Percy a single glance. Sure, they had spoken briefly in the short time between Jupiter’s arrest and the attack, but it was strange to see someone wearing Poseidon’s face who at the same time wasn’t really his father. He wondered if Annabeth felt the same way, watching Minerva stand between Mars and Mercury in the clump of major gods. 

As Pluto finished the funeral rites, someone produced a flaming torch and handed it to him. Percy half expected him to light the first pyre, but he stood and faced the Olympians, holding it out. 

He heard Annabeth hum softly from beside him. “What?”

Reyna huffed as well. “The person to light the first pyre is usually the highest ranking person. It's usually a praetor, but with the gods present… Well, it would normally be Jupiter, but it’s not like the Council has named a new leader.”

“What, are they going to fight for it?” Thalia raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t put it against them. In terms of social awareness-”

“No, they’re not fighting. They’re not even saying anything,” Frank murmured, peering over at the Olympians. They’re waiting .” 

“Is it Juno?” Annabeth grumbled. “If she’s technically still queen.”

Everyone else seemed to have reached the same conclusion, murmurs floating through the air and all eyes on the gods, all asking the same question: Who’s in charge of the Council now?

“No, it’s not Juno,” Percy said. “She’s just waiting like the rest of them. It’s almost like…”

“Like what?” Frank asked.

“Like they’ve already decided,” Annabeth finished. 

Percy blinked in the sudden light that momentarily blinded him. Sunrise had come, and he was facing eastward. He raised a hand to shield his face, catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Apollo stepped forward, out from his children and grasped the flaming torch Pluto held aloft. Carefully and silently, he lit two other torches that were passed around the crowded circle, then stepped forward and lit Jerry’s pyre. The flames caught quickly, and the orange beanie disappeared from view. 

Chapter Text

Percy swung what little of his belongings he could find into a random backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Dust coated the floor of what used to be his NRU dorm room, and half of the building was gone by now. All things considered, he probably shouldn’t even be there. But as he stuffed an old hoodie he’d had since high school into his bag, he was glad he’d come back one more time. He might never be back. It was all terrible, yes, but also pretty unfortunate that the entirety of the NRU campus had been destroyed and he only had one semester left. Oh well. Time to save the world again. 

He nearly fell flat on his face as his foot landed on an awkwardly placed piece of rubble. The concrete clattered across the dusty floor and rolled to a stop from a burnt and splintered door. 

He peered out the grimy window to his right, catching the movement outside. Barely any of the buildings that had survived the attack were big enough to house anybody under one roof anymore, so people were making do until there was a firm plan in mind. That being said… 

He made his way back down the stairs again, careful to not step on anymore stray concrete, and emerged into the early afternoon sunlight. Cold wind struck at his face like needles, so he turned his head down and hurried along down the streets towards the Senate House. 

It was quiet inside as he entered, blowing into his hands to warm them. He looked up. While one wall had been blown clean away, it had been hastily covered with a blue tarp shivering in the wind and making flapping noises he knew would get annoying after a while. 

Huddled in the tiered seats were all of the Olympians plus Pluto, all the senior counselors from Camp Half-Blood, Chiron, Grover, Rachel, and the Senators, including Hazel and Frank. Percy winced as he realized he was the last one there.

“Sorry,” he muttered to Apollo, who stood next to a pile of dust that used to be the podium. 

Apollo waved a hand absentmindedly and gestured to Hazel, who must have been talking when Percy entered. “As I was saying, we definitely don’t have the shelter we need, and we don’t have the resources to repair anything. We need to move.”

 “Somewhere secure, ideally,” Minerva spoke up. “Somewhere easily defensible.”

“The Waystation,” Piper suggested. “It could expand to fit all of us.” 

“But it’s not close,” Mercury interjected. “How would we get there?”

“The same way we get anywhere,” Diana snapped. 

“We could also use the Labyrinth,” Rachel said. “I know we don’t have Ariadne’s string as an option, but-”

“It doesn’t matter which way we get there,” Juno interrupted, and Percy saw Rachel’s cheeks flush with annoyance. He opened his mouth to snap the first thing that came to mind, but his voice was quickly drowned out by the god’s voices all raising and turning against each other. Percy was pretty sure Venus had just called Minerva something very offensive in Latin, and Mars and Mercury had turned in their seats and their noses were three inches apart, scowling and threatening all the while. Diana had leveled a dagger at Juno’s face and seemed to be accusing her of some act of cowardice or treason and Juno kept responding by making the Master Bolt (which, somehow, she still had curled in her hands) flicker with lightning, and Vulcan kept making snide comments about everyone in the room because he felt left out, or something. 

“Oh, great,” Percy muttered to Annabeth, who was shaking her head in exasperation. “Just when you think there’s an upside to not being a god, you get dragged into their arguments.” The room was a cacophony of noise and chaos among the gods, and Percy could feel a headache coming on. For as much as the gods had provided a united front in public, for the sake of the minor gods and demigods, they were just as fragmented as ever, it seemed. 

Apollo seemed to be the only god who wasn’t either threatening or yelling, but it was probably because he was too busy rolling his eyes and looking absolutely bewildered at how he had lost the room so quickly. Percy shot him a questioning glance, but Apollo just shook his head and shrugged apologetically. He then made a gesture for Percy to cover his ears, which he and most of the other demigods took him up on. 

Even with his ears covered, Apollo’s best taxi whistle disoriented him more than he’d have liked to admit. A persistent ringing pinged around in his brain for a few moments, as he watched the gods all groan and curse in pain. 

“Are you done yet?” Apollo asked loudly, completely unfazed. Nobody answered, besides the odd mumbled ‘I always hate that’. “That wasn’t rhetorical,” Apollo’s eyes narrowed and Percy was honestly surprised at how most of the gods all sat up and mumbled their half-hearted affirmatives. Even Apollo looked surprised. 

“Okay,” he nodded once, clearly trying to reign the conversation in while not appearing too controlling or demanding, clearly unused to being in a position of power over his godly family. The other gods eyed him skeptically, and Percy had a feeling that this decision had been made without most of their knowledge. He looked over at Neptune, who was watching Apollo and exchanging glances with Pluto every so often, clearly wondering if their nephew was a suitable replacement for their brother. Apollo swallowed visibly, and he crossed his hands in front of his stomach in a nervous tick Percy had never really noticed before. 

“I think the Waystation is our best option,” Apollo nodded to Piper. “But there might be too many of us to go through the Labyrinth all at once, we'll get noticed. That, and moving supplies through is probably not the best idea.”

“I agree,” Minerva said. “We should gather what we can and find a way to take it to the Waystation in a way that doesn’t attract too much attention.”

Vulcan grunted. “18-wheeler.”

There was a pause. Apollo and Minerva shared a glance, and he shrugged. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

Past that point, the conversation was actually pretty productive. Yeah, can you believe it? It’s almost like, if you get rid of a main source of the problem, things become easier to fix. Magic.  The demigods started joining in the conversation not long after, and although the gods had to be reminded by a sharp glare from Apollo that it’s rude to interrupt or insult people, the tragedies of the last couple of weeks felt just a little easier to carry. Things were going okay. They were making a plan, and there’s at least a glimmer of hope that they would get out of this mess alive. 

They had to be reminded of their priorities - find Jupiter, find out whatever they could about Hanpa, figure out what's up with the Tablet of Destinies and how the gods’ divinity can be restored - and the air in the room soured when the list just kept getting bigger. There were too many questions left unasked, too many tasks to complete, too many people to find. Eventually, they all split off, frustrated but rearing to go. The Senators went to share the plan to the Legions, and a handful of the senior counselors left as well.

“I’ve never been to Indianapolis,” Percy mused to Annabeth as they watched the gods file out to corral their respective posses (on Apollo’s orders, and done begrudgingly). 

“I went with Piper, once,” Annabeth replied absentmindedly as she watched Minerva leave. Apparently, they’d barely spoken a word, but Annabeth for some reason was chalking it up to the fact that Athena was her mother, not this person who was sharing her face. A strange experience, Percy could agree, because he definitely found it weird every time Neptune spoke and somehow, it never sounded like Poseidon. All of the Olympians were wearing their Greek faces, the reason for which Percy had no idea. Maybe they had all been in their Greek forms when they’d been turned mortal? But how would that work if, like he had heard once, that gods could split their essences to be Greek and Roman at the same time? It was enough to make his brain hurt, so he gave up on it. 

All the gods besides Apollo had left by then, for which Percy was immensely glad that he didn’t have to keep his mouth shut lest he say something offensive that would get him cursed to have a herd of hogs following him around for the rest of his life, or whatever. 

Chiron had risen and walked over to Apollo, who was watching the door with a pensive look on his face. “You did well,” Chiron said. 

“It was a nightmare,” Apollo snorted. “The moment this is over and I’m not king anymore, I’ll be happy.”

Percy’s stomach sank for reasons he wasn’t quite ready to parse out yet. “What do you mean? You’re stepping down?”

The others in the room likewise peered over at Apollo, hoping for some explanation that didn’t leave them back where they started, fending for themselves and waiting for their inevitable deaths. “You only just became king, and you’re already leaving?” Annabeth’s eyes were narrowed, and if Percy knew her, she was feeling the same kind of helplessness in her stomach, if Percy was reading his own emotions right (which wasn’t always true, but oh well). If they didn’t have Apollo, who did they have? Who would replace him? Because if Percy had his say, Apollo could stay as king of the gods and all parties involved would be better off for it. Yeah, that was definitely a weird feeling to be having. Percy hadn’t always liked Apollo, per say, but in recent years Percy had realized that if any one of the Olympians could both lead the gods through a war and also not get the demigods killed in the process (aka not treat them like expendable soldiers), it would be Apollo. 

“Hang on, hang on,” Apollo raised his hands to fend off the chattering questions. “I’m sorry, I should have explained.”

Again, what other gods would have apologized for not explaining? Percy’s mind supplied in an entirely unhelpful manner. 

Apollo sighed and his hands dropped to his sides. “This is a temporary solution, me taking the throne. Fighting a war and restructuring a government system at the same time is not my idea of an easy process. We have to pick our battles. Literally. A majority of the Council agreed on this as the best course of action - fight now, politics later. Because as much as we’ve been pretending otherwise for the last, oh, several millennia, Jupiter and his reign was just not good for the gods, and not good for you.”

Apollo made eye contact with each and every one of them, and Percy tried to not shy away from those piercing sun-like eyes. 

“Assuming we make it out of this, we’ve got some serious work to do back on Olympus. I’m just a placeholder.” 

“Placeholder for what?” Percy snapped at him. “For another system that leaves us high and dry? Where you sneak back into the shadows and pretend like you were never like us, like you don’t understand?” Oops . Percy wasn’t sure where that came from. 

“That’s not fair,” Will stood up, but closed his mouth as Apollo shook his head in Will’s direction. 

Apollo watched Percy for a moment, clearly trying to find the right words. “I get it,” he said slowly. “I understand. You’re all just scared. I get that.” 

Percy kind of resented the implication, but he crossed his arms and didn’t interrupt. He was just tired of it all, fighting in wars he didn’t start, being asked to do tasks just because the gods felt like it was okay to push him and his friends around. None of it was okay, and Apollo felt like one of the only gods who had been able to sympathize with that. But now, if Apollo was immediately stepping down just moments after gaining the power to do something that could change Percy’s life for the better… It felt a bit like a sting of betrayal. 

“I’d be happy to lead them,” Apollo said, still observing Percy with those freaky eyes. “But I will not be king.” 

Chiron cleared his throat. “The plan for all this, according to what I’ve heard, is that you all will have your chances for input.”

Apollo nodded. “You are all a part of us. The gods do not exist without you. It’s not fair that you’ve been left out thus far.” 

Percy nodded slowly after a moment, feeling a bit like a child that had just been scolded. He avoided Chiron’s gaze as he started directing them to round people up and collect supplies. Percy lingered for just a moment, nodding Annabeth ahead as they left. 

“I’m sorry,” Percy muttered to Apollo when they were alone. 

Apollo shook his head. “Don’t be. You have every right to speak your mind, that’s kind of the whole point of this.”

Percy smiled half-heartedly. “Well. I’ll have quite a few things to say, if we make it out alive.” He cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms. “Anyways. Um, unrelated, but did you hear about a couple of Egyptian magicians coming to Olympus a few weeks ago, asking for help?”

Apollo nodded. “Yes, the Kanes. I heard Zeus turned them away.”

Percy furrowed his brow. “How do you know about the Kanes?”

“I don’t live under a rock, Percy,” Apollo smiled. “They were experiencing similar monster attacks, yes?”

“Yeah,” Percy nodded. “It’s just… if they’re not dead already, then they still need help. And we need help now, too. I’m just saying, I know how to find them, if you’re not opposed to adding a couple of kick-ass godlings and a ton of magicians to the ranks, ya’know?”

Apollo was silent for a moment, considering Percy with something close to suspicion and concern on his face. 

“And,” Percy held up his hands. “I’m volunteering for this, so you don’t have to feel bad for sending me out for a task.”

Apollo smiled and shook his head. “Alright. Don’t go alone, though.”

“Of course not,” Percy grinned. “Quests need three.”

Chapter Text

Piper watched as Percy grinned once more at Apollo, then jogged to follow them out of the Senate House. 

“What was that about?” Annabeth muttered to him as he approached them. Most of the group had stopped to hear as well: Frank, Hazel, Thalia, and Reyna. Will had muttered something about needing to head back to the medical tent, and Nico had followed his father outside. 

Percy surveyed them for a second, like he was weighing his options, but then he shrugged. “I just said we need to go find the Kanes. The Egyptian magicians might be the leg-up we need here.” 

“Magicians?” Piper frowned. She was the only one confused, she realized. “I missed something, didn’t I?”

“Uh, yeah,” Annabeth nodded. “Percy and I know these siblings, Carter and Sadie Kane. They’re, well, they’re Egyptian magicians.”

“You mean, like demigods?” Piper asked. 

Annabeth shook her head. “No, but kind of. They’re called godlings . Egyptian gods don’t have physical manifestations like the Greco-Roman gods do, they have to take hosts in humans, and they do that by choosing mortals that are descendants of the ancient pharaohs. But there are also magicians, people trained in the magic of the Egyptian gods. Carter and Sadie are both. And they’re very powerful.”

“And Carter is their pharaoh right now,” Percy explained. “He came to Zeus for help just a couple weeks ago, but Zeus refused.”

“Why did they need help?” Piper asked. 

“They were experiencing a lot more monster attacks than usual. Not unlike us, but their gods are in self-exile and can’t help them.”

Piper raised an eyebrow. “Self-exile?”

Percy shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know. Carter can explain it better, probably.” He turned to Annabeth. “What do you say? Fancy a trip to Chicago? I think that's where Carter said they're hiding out.”

“Chicago?” Frank snorted as Annabeth pondered. 

“You don’t think…” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know. If Carter and Sadie have been getting attacks from Mesopotamian monsters, and we are, too…”

“You’re worried about Magnus,” Percy said, nodding.

“Who’s Magnus?” Piper blurted out, pleased that she wasn’t the only one confused this time around. 

“My cousin,” Annabeth said, nodding to Percy. “Yeah. I haven’t heard from him recently, but all this just makes me wonder, you know? If there’s any time to check in on him, it would be now.”

“Why is your cousin so special?” Frank frowned. 

“He’s a demigod, too,” Annabeth said. “But he’s Norse .” 

“Norse?” Hazel gaped. “Jeez. How many pantheons are there?”

“We’ve met a Yoruba demigod,” Thalia shrugged, getting seriously off track. “Olujime. He lives at the Waystation. Apollo and I met him a while ago.” 

“Regardless,” Annabeth said. “He lives in Boston, with a bunch of other einherjar.” 

“In-hair-what?” 

“Heroes who have died in battle and are hand-chosen by Odin’s valkyries to join his eternal army,” Annabeth explained quickly. 

“And they live in Boston?” Reyna smirked. 

“Well, technically they live in Valhalla, but there’s an entrance in Boston, because that’s the center of the World Tree, Yggdrasil.” 

“I was in Boston, recently,” Piper muttered, mostly to herself, because she has nothing else to say of any relevance. “Wait - your cousin’s dead?”

“Yep. Long story. Anyways,” Annabeth continued, turning back to Percy and ignoring the perplexed looks shot her way, “I think you should go to Chicago, and I’ll go to Boston.”

Percy was clearly hesitant to separate from Annabeth, but he slowly nodded. “Okay.” He turned back to Apollo, who was quietly conversing with Chiron. “Did you hear any of that?”

Apollo’s eyes shot towards them. “Something about Boston.”

“Annabeth’s cousin.”

“Magnus Chase, right?” Apollo said, approaching slowly and caught Annabeth nodding. Piper decided not to ask how he knew that. “You think they’re in trouble, too?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Annabeth said. “Percy goes to Chicago, and I go to Boston, and we report back to the Waystation within two weeks, with or without a couple fresh magicians and einherjar. What do you say?”

Apollo’s nose wrinkled, clearly hesitant to split them up. “Two weeks,” he said, finally nodding. “Any later and I send someone out to find you.”

“Done.” 

Chiron’s hooves clopped nervously on the marble floor. “If I may,” he said, “if you run into any gods from other pantheons, be careful. They may not appreciate your attempts to help.” 

“They might be territorial,” Apollo nodded. “But if they try anything, tell them you have my permission. That might help.”

“Okay,” Percy nodded along. “Cool. Volunteers?”

“I’ll come with you,” Hazel said. 

“Same,” Reyna nodded. 

“I can go with Annabeth,” Piper raised her hand, and Frank did as well.

“Aw,” Thalia groaned. “C’mon, you guys, you’re gonna leave me all alone?”

Reyna grinned and slapped Thalia on the shoulder. “You have our sisters.”

“Yeah, but Boston or Chicago sound much more fun,” Thalia pouted. She eyed Apollo. “And where are you going?”

Apollo shot her a look. “How do you know I’m not going to the Waystation?”

“Because I know you ,” Thalia shrugged. “You’re planning on going somewhere else, aren’t you?”

Apollo gave her a belabored sigh. “Yes. There are too many questions left unanswered. We don’t know anything about Hanpa, for one.”

“You must have a starting point,” Thalia prodded. 

“Well, yes,” Apollo nodded sourly. “Demarus and I found out that he has a son, Pazuzu. That’s where we’ll start. I have a friend who’s trying to track him down, she’ll meet us at the Sacramento River by sunset tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” Thalia grinned brightly. 

“Uh, no,” Apollo raised a finger. “Not doing that.”

“We’ll see what Diana has to say about that,” Thalia grinned, and Apollo shot her another look that clearly read ‘please don’t do that I’m begging you’. Piper grinned despite herself. 

“Well, let’s get a move on,” Annabeth said, then nudged Piper and Frank along by their elbows. “Faster we get to Boston, the better.” 

“Are we taking the Labyrinth again?” Frank said after he slung his bag over his shoulder and kissed Hazel goodbye. “And if you’re undecided, I vote no .” 

Annabeth gave him an apologetic smile and a shrug. “We’re on the wrong side of the country, we’ll have to. But Magnus and his friends have some pretty clever ways of traveling, so getting to the Waystation shouldn’t be too hard.” 

Frank shot Piper a look that plainly said ‘this is what you get for volunteering for an Annabeth quest’, but didn’t object further. “The closest entrance is at Alcatraz,” he offered. “But if you want something more low-key, we can always go to Mount Tamalpais.” 

“I’ve been to the one at Alcatraz,” Annabeth nodded. “We’ll go there.”

They catch a ride, then a ferry to get onto the island within thirty minutes. Thankfully, it’s early enough in the morning that tourists haven’t made their way out yet, but that doesn’t stop Annabeth from checking over her shoulder as they take a hidden door down to the actual cells. “It’s weird,” she says as they walk along empty and long-deserted cells, where Piper can imagine criminals slowly wasting away with only the blank walls and barred doors for company. “I came here with Percy, Tyson, and Grover a while ago, before I even knew the Romans existed…”

“You were so close to us,” Frank nodded along. 

The only sound filling the silence as they descended deeper and deeper into the halls of cells was the sounds of their feet and their paced breathing. But Piper’s fingers itched to grab the shotgun from where it was slung across her body. She’d taken to carrying it with her ever since that terrible dog-monster had turned Katroptis to ash, and in the most recent battle on Camp Jupiter, it had come in handy. 

“Stop,” Annabeth suddenly whispered harshly. “Did you hear that?” 

“No,” Piper muttered back, giving in to her instincts and pulling the shotgun off her shoulder. “What was it?”

“It sounded like… talking,” Annabeth muttered back as she looked around them. To their right was a hallway leading to another block of cells, to the left was a door that led to what might have been an office, but it was locked. Straight ahead was pitch black darkness. 

“We should be almost in the Labyrinth,” Frank suggested, squinting his eyes into the darkness ahead. “But you’d think we’d have seen Daedalus’ sign by now…”

Annabeth shook her head ever so slightly, then focused on the door to their left, reaching out slowly for the handle. Goosebumps crawled along Piper’s arms as she started hearing the faintest whisper, the mutter of a forgotten thought. “ Ready ?” Annabeth whispered.

Piper nodded despite herself and raised the gun, poised to shoot if anything decided to jump out at them. “Three… two… one!” 

Annabeth yanked the door open and raised her sword at the same time Piper cocked the shotgun and Frank pulled back an arrow. 

“Augh! Shit!”

There was a crash and a slew of curses as a body behind the door started flailing wildly and yelling. The light flicked on and Piper was momentarily blinded as the figure in the room disappeared from view as they stepped behind the door frame. “Mother above,” said a voice. “You scared me!” 

“Come out with your hands up!” Annabeth called to the person. A man, if Piper was judging correctly. 

“Okay, okay,” the guy said, coming into view. The guy was bearded, and his hair was long and curly. He was wearing a bright red tunic-looking shirt and simple black pants, and his fingers were adorned with glittering jewels, bearing no visible weapons. “Hello. Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten anyone.” 

“Who are you?” Annabeth prodded. 

The guy observed her curiously, but didn’t look all that threatened. “Okay. I’ll ignore the sword and… gun for now. My name is Mu. Nice to meet you.”

“Moo?” Frank raised an eyebrow, but lowered his bow. “Like a cow?”

“It’s a nickname,” Mu shrugged. “But, you know what? I like cows. I’ll let it slide.” He paused, slowly lowering his hands with raised eyebrows until Annabeth and Piper lowered their weapons as well. “Um… your turn. Introductions work both ways. You’re all demigods, right? Must be Greeco-Roman, to be in this neck of the woods.” 

Piper frowned to herself, knowing how suspicious it was that this guy clearly knew they were looking for the Labyrinth, but felt the urge to be honest regardless. “Piper,” she pointed to herself. “Annabeth, and Frank. Why are you here?”

“Well, I was trying to get to Cairo,” Mu explained, waving his hands wildly. “A friend of mine told me to try this little maze thing of yours out, but I seem to have gotten a bit lost. Say, where am I?”

“Alcatraz. San Francisco, California.”

Mu’s nose wrinkled. “California? Bleugh.” 

Piper and Annabeth exchanged a glance. She could tell Annabeth was still on edge, but Frank looked relaxed and was grinning to himself at the dig on California. 

“How about this?” Piper said, interrupting Mu in the middle of his tirade about LA traffic. “We help you get back into the Labyrinth, and then we go our separate merry ways.” 

Mu’s eyes widened. “That would be great! You guys clearly know your way around here better than I do.”
Frank started leading the way down through the darkest tunnel, Mu following right behind him. Annabeth, walking with Piper as they both walked behind Mu, shot Piper a look that plainly read ‘this is a bad idea’. She leaned in close as Mu and Frank struck up a conversation. “I say we split from him at the first fork in the Labyrinth. I’d rather get as far away from him as possible, I don’t think he’s entirely benevolent.” 

Piper nodded. “Sure thing, boss.” 

If Mu noticed that Piper still had her shotgun armed, or that Annabeth’s sword wasn’t sheathed, he didn’t say anything as they approached a blue delta symbol etched into a wall towards the back of a cell. Annabeth pressed her hand to it, and the door to the Labyrinth appeared.

Walking through the doorway, Piper was suddenly struck in the face by a gust of warm air she hadn’t been expecting. 

The room was large and circular, with only one door other than the one they’d come through, all the way across the cavernous space. A dim red glow was the only source of light, coming through a tinted opening in the ceiling. Most of the room was in shadow, the edges and walls obscured from view. 

Piper narrowed her eyes as Mu made to cross the room without much apparent thought. Even Frank hung back, watching Mu gallivant across the room, only for him to pause as he reached the center, right beneath the skylight. 

“What’s wrong, my friends?” Mu asked, voice bright and smiling through his beard. 

Piper saw Annabeth look for the door behind her, as if double checking that it was still there. “Who are you?” Piper asked, channeling her charmspeak. 

To her dismay, it didn’t seem to work. Mu only smiled wider and cocked his head to the side. “I already told you that, didn’t I?”

“You said Mu was a nickname. What’s your real name?” Piper tried again. 

“Oh, fine,” Mu said, shrugging. Before anyone could stop him, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers. The door behind them disappeared. 

Piper was mentally kicking herself for not seeing this coming as Mu smiled wider, still standing between them and the only other door out. “Oh, come on,” he spread his hands. “It’s a great story. I just want you to hear the whole thing before you go running off on me.”

“Who are you?” Frank asked once more, raising his voice and nocking an arrow, but before he could point it at Mu, footsteps started all the way behind Mu, heavy thumps reverberating around the room. 

Piper’s fingers clutched the shotgun tighter in her hands as goosebumps crawled up her arms despite the warm room. She could practically feel her heartbeat in her throat as a new shadow appeared behind Mu, with a terrible tall crown of bloody bone. The monster that had chased her all the way from Boston to Long Island looked at her with dark eyes, towering over them all. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Mu’s smile had stretched across his face, unnaturally long and toothy, sharp and cold. “My name is Lahmu. And this,” he gestured to the dog-monster next to him, “is my brother Uridimmu.”

“What do you want from us?” Annabeth snarled, raising her sword. If Lahmu felt threatened at all, it didn’t show. 

“I already told you, young owl,” Lahmu said softly. Uridimmu didn’t move, silent and tall. “I want to tell you a story.” 

Chapter Text

There’s a cliche that happens all the time in movies and TV shows. It even happened to Piper herself a couple times: when it’s time for the villain to give their backstory or some kind of monologue, they always tie the heroes up and threaten to kill them. It’s all very melodramatic. 

But it’s partially why she was surprised when Lahmu didn’t immediately tie them all up with a snap of his fingers. She knew he had magic, and wondered if he was some kind of minor god to have the power to make a door in the Labyrinth disappear like that. But he simply stood in the room and waited for them to listen. Even the dog-monster Uridimmu didn’t budge. 

Frank, however, didn’t let Lahmu’s lapse in judgment stop him. Raising his bow with its nocked arrows, he took quick aim and let the arrow fly in Lahmu’s direction. But, as Piper could have predicted, it dissolved into ash five feet away from Lahmu’s face. 

“It’s cute that you try,” Lahmu pouted. “I just want to tell you a story, is that so much to ask?”

“If you tell your story, can we go?” Piper asked, half-sarcastically. Fat chance that happens , she thought to herself. 

Lahmu brightened. “Sure!” He blinked at them, waiting patiently. 

Frank leaned in towards Annabeth and Piper. “It’s a trap.”

Annabeth slowly turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “No kidding,” she said dryly. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just, you know, offering my input.”

“I’ll bet there’s the ‘who said anything about leaving in one piece’ loophole,” Piper says. 

“Oh, definitely,” Annabeth agreed. “But what other choice do we have? I say we listen to him and get some information. Then Piper, try your charmspeak again if he doesn’t let us out.” 

“And if this is more of a ‘capture us and make us regret all our life choices’ kind of scenario?” Frank asked quietly.

“Well, time moves weird in the Labyrinth,” Annabeth said. “If two weeks passes on the upstairs side of things, Apollo said he’d send a rescue mission. Maybe they’ll have more luck than us.” She looked up towards Lahmu and Uridimmu. “Okay. Tell us your story.”

Lahmu beckoned with a thick-fingered hand. “Come closer.” 

Piper raised her eyebrows at him. Lahmu looked around to see Uridimmu still standing right by his shoulder. “Oh, back up, you idiot. You’re scaring my audience.” 

Uridimmu, even though his face was mostly in the shape of a snout and wasn’t very capable of expressing human-like emotions, pouted, but backed up several feet until he was at the edge of the ring of red light coming from the ceiling. Piper, Annabeth, and Frank all inched forward slowly, and none put away their weapons. 

Lahmu waved his hands, and shapes illuminated themselves from the red haze. “In the beginning, there was the void, and there was the water.”

Piper and Annabeth exchanged a glance as nonsensical shapes started to form and Lahmu continued. “One day- oh I suppose it wasn’t a day, was it? Days weren’t really a thing. Hm…” Lahmu paused and rubbed his bearded chin. “I’ll have to revise that. This is much more Nabu’s thing. Too bad he’s not up for the job .” Lahmu wiggled his eyebrows at them like they were sharing an inside joke, and Piper’s stomach did a weird backflip. She had no idea who Nabu was, but she wondered where he was that he wasn’t able to do his job. 

Uridummu made a noise that sounded like clearing his throat. “Right!” Lahmu snapped back to attention. “Okay. One day - or otherwise unspecified period of time - the water separated into fresh water, and salt water, and from them came the first of the gods: the fresh water, Abzu, and the salt water, Tiamat.” The red haze shifted into two monstrous figures: a giant snake and some humanoid with feathered wings. 

Annabeth made a sound of recognition. “Enuma Elish.”

“Bless you,” Frank muttered.

“ No . It’s the Mesopotamian creation myth,” Annabeth murmured quietly.

“Well, if you know it, why are we still listening to him?” Piper grumbled back.

“He might know something I don’t,” Annabeth whispered. 

Lahmu pouted in their direction, and the shapes evolved again as he continued with the story. “Abzu and Tiamat had many children together, and populated the earth with godlings, and the days became long, and time started to flow.” More shapes started to appear, smaller ones that skittered around the feet of the two largest figures of Abzu and Tiamat.

“All was well, until Tiamat and Abzu’s progeny became too loud.” Lahmu waved his hands, and the small figures started to grow rowdy. “They became so loud that Abzu was unable to sleep, and proposed killing them to Tiamat so that he could finally rest.” 

Piper snorted derisively. “That sounds like a couple gods I know.”

Lahmu glared at her for interrupting. “Tiamat refused, as she didn’t want to harm their children. But one of Abzu’s advisors approached him with a secret plan to kill the godlings, and Abzu agreed, without telling his wife.” The figures of red haze shifted and morphed, an adequate storytelling aid, and the tall figure of Abzu turned away from Tiamat, secretive. 

“But before Abzu and his advisor could carry out the plan, they were discovered by Enki, the god of wisdom and mischief, who cast a sleeping spell on Abzu.” The shapes in the haze shifted again, and the Abzu figure sank to the floor, asleep, the mischievous Enki lurking close by. 

“As Abzu slept, Enki killed him and imprisoned Abzu’s advisor,” Lahmu said, his voice suddenly hard, as if Abzu’s death was a personal offense. The Enki figure leapt out, and just as Lahmu said, drove a spear right through the sleeping Abzu’s neck. 

Piper raised an eyebrow. To her, this was pretty standard god-stuff, but Lahmu was seething, his hands trembling with anger as he slashed through the haze and Abzu’s shadowy body faded.

“When Tiamat found her husband slain, she was enraged, and decided that the only way to avenge Abzu was to kill all of the godlings as punishment.” The shape of Tiamat stalked around them, roaring in silent anger and gnashing her teeth. “She created eleven more children, myself and Uridimmu included-” Lahmu broke off to grin wildly at them as more and more monstrous shapes emerged from the haze, before continuing- “and to her oldest child, Kingu, she bestowed upon the Tablet of Destinies that she had created herself, which gave him power unimaginable, and control of fate itself.” 

Piper felt her jaw drop a little. Whatever she had been expecting from this story, it was not to hear about the Tablet of Destinies, the same one Zeus wanted so badly. 

“The war waged on,” Lahmu described, and the figures in the red haze battled each other, the figures of Tiamat and her son, Kingu bearing the Tablet, killing the godlings left and right. “I remember it well. But just as Tiamat was gaining the upper hand, Enki’s son emerged, born in the temple created from Abzu’s remains. Marduk, the god of the sun, carried a club in his right hand, and his bow in his left, filled with the fire of the heavens, and created a net out of the winds, trapping Tiamat. He challenged Kingu, won, and claimed the Tablet of Destinies for himself, using it to kill Tiamat and create the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers from her tears.” Lahmu’s hands told the story in the red haze, and the figure of Marduk (who Piper thought looked like Apollo, glowing with sunlight and carrying a bow) stood victorious, carrying the Tablet. 

“The victorious Marduk claimed kingship over the other gods, and killed Kingu for his treason, creating the first humans from his blood.” The figures in the red haze disappeared, and left Lahmu standing alone, looking dejected. “At least, that’s what Nabu wants you to think.” 

“Who’s Nabu?” Piper asked. 

“The god of scribes,” Lahmu said, his eyes darting to somewhere on the walls hidden in shadows. “He was the one who recorded the Enuma Elish. But what’s the saying you humans are so fond of?”

“ History is written by the victors ,” Annabeth said quietly. 

“Yes,” Lahmu nodded absentmindedly, his eyes traveling across the walls. He looked back at them, and something in his eyes seemed dead to Piper. Dead… and evil. “Well, high time that changed, isn’t it?”

“What did Nabu keep out of the story?” Annabeth prodded carefully. “What didn’t Marduk want the humans to know?”

Lahmu sighed. “If you knew the depths of your own species, the atrocities you could commit, would you want your servants to know? The ones you rely on to keep you alive ? Gods are powered by belief . If humans knew all the things that the gods had done to each other, and believed that the gods were monsters in their own rights, they would have turned their backs a long time ago. We wouldn’t be here.” 

“I don’t understand,” Frank shook his head.

Lahmu groaned loudly and rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you paying attention? In the beginning, there was the void, and there was the water. But even the void was something , godborn. It was never just Tiamat and Abzu. There was a third primordial.”

“Hanpa,” Piper muttered.

“ Yes ,” Lahmu nodded, splaying his hands. “The story Nabu crafted from the truth had its own holes, didn’t it? Abzu’s advisor wasn’t any old godling, it was Abzu’s own brother, the progenitor of evil itself. Where else would Abzu have gotten the idea? The god that whispered in Tiamat’s ear that she could create more children, that she should take her revenge? The god that gave her the idea to craft the Tablet of Destinies? It was all Hanpa. He was there the whole time.” 

“And Nabu kept him out of the story so humanity would forget him. So he would be powerless,” Annabeth nodded, piecing the story together herself. 

“Yes,” Lahmu said, clearly pleased she was catching on. “When Marduk had to deal with the gods that had betrayed him and sided with Tiamat, he had to decide what to do with Hanpa, too. He ordered Nabu that Hanpa be stripped from any existing records, and imprisoned in the temple created from Abzu’s body, using the Tablet to tie him there, powerless, hoping that, by removing Hanpa from human memory, he would grow powerless and fade away.” 

“But it didn’t work,” Piper realized. “Hanpa’s escaped. He’s sided with Zeus, he’s powerful again. Why didn’t he fade, if Nabu really did remove him from memory?”

“Ah,” Lahmu winced without much remorse, looking rather gleeful instead. “Well, Nabu slipped up. One mention of Hanpa remained, in the smallest passage about his son, Pazuzu, recorded by one of Nabu’s mortal offspring.” 

“One mention shouldn’t be enough to sustain a god from fading for this long, though,” Annabeth frowned. “There have been Greek gods with lots of knowledge and existing records about them, and they’ve faded, even though they’re much younger than Hanpa would be. So, how’s he stuck around for so long?”

Lahmu’s smirk was thick and victorious. “Well memory is a powerful thing, yes, and there are no memories of Hanpa. But belief? Belief that there are evil things in this world, and have been long before you were even conceptualized?" He looked around the obscured walls with a satisfied smirk on his face as Piper felt her stomach drop even further.

Lahmu's eyes bore into hers. "Have you heard the saying that humans are born with an innate fear of the dark? Knowledge of evil is similar. Even children know that something is evil. That’s how Hanpa’s stuck around for so long.” 

Piper felt sick to her stomach. So, they were not only up against the Greek king of the gods, with the skies themselves on his side, but the primordial god of evil of the most ancient pantheon on the face of the earth. She felt so much better for having listened to Lahmu’s story, really. 

“One more question,” Annabeth said, and Piper felt validated in her fear when hearing the slightest tremble in Ananbeth’s voice. “Before, you said Nabu wasn't up to the job, that he couldn’t tell us the story, instead. What happened to him?”

Lahmu’s smile was wide and frightening. “Well, you didn’t seriously think Hanpa was going to let Abzu and Tiamat’s work go unfinished once he was released? No, of course not.” With a snap of his fingers, the red haze from the skylight expanded across the entire circular room, finally illuminating the walls. 

Piper gasped and felt her stomach drop to somewhere close to her ankles. The walls, much further away than she’d thought, were lined with bodies hanging by their wrists. “Oh, my gods,” she muttered, seeing one goddess with her hand tied above her head, like all the rest, covered in blood, clearly dead. 

“Yes,” Lahmu mused. “Well, not your gods. But I imagine they’re next.” He pointed to another body to Frank’s right, a thin man with a long nose and legs twisted under him, also clearly dead. Horrified, Piper couldn’t look away. “That one is Nabu.” 

Piper felt like she was going to throw up. Frank’s eyes were wide, and Annabeth’s knuckles were white, clenched around the hilt of her sword. They all watched Lahmu stride along the walls, pointing out gods and goddesses to them. “This here is Enlil, he put up quite the fight. You know, he held the Tablet of Destinies for a while after Marduk retired, but, you know, he kept losing it, so he gave it to Enki - remember, from the story?. He’s all the way over there, look-” 

Piper crept over to one of the gods closest to her, but it wasn’t really a conscious choice. The god was stirring slightly, his long dark hair falling over his face. Piper got close enough that she could step close enough to look the god in the eyes, and saw that they were a shimmering gold. 

“Godborn,” the god croaked. 

“Yes,” Piper nodded. “Greek.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the god said quietly, and coughed. “Hanpa’s going to kill them all. But he needs the Tablet. Find it. Start in the Garden.” 

“I- the Garden?” Piper muttered. “I don’t understand.”

“You’ll have to,” the god coughed again. “It’s the only way.” 

“Ah!” Lahmu called from across the room, his voice echoing loudly. “You’ve found Marduk.” 

Piper backed up quickly as Lahmu strode across the room. “You’re going to kill all the gods? Even the Greeks and Romans?” Piper asked, knowing how badly her voice was shaking. 

“Why not?” Lahmu said, shrugging. “If my siblings have done their jobs right, they’ll all be dead before too long. Did you like that little trick we pulled? Turning all of them mortal? I thought it would be fun, you know, giving them all identity crises, but Hanpa said I made it too easy. Ah, well.” 

“Them all ?” Annabeth muttered. “You don’t mean… you turned all the gods of all pantheons mortal, too?”

Lahmu blew a raspberry. “You didn’t think we’d stop at the Mesopotamians, did you? We’ve got a bone to pick with the Egyptians, mind you, and the Duat’s a tricky little thing, but your silly little Greco-Romans don’t stand a chance. You might as well stop trying.” He leaned in close to Piper, who felt like she might be on the verge of tears. “He just wants to start over. If Marduk could make the world in his own image, why can’t Hanpa?”

Chapter Text

Piper glanced towards the only door out, blocked by Uridimmu, who hadn’t moved an inch. They had to get out of there, to warn the others. If Lahmu was telling the truth, and why wouldn’t he be, it wasn’t just their gods in trouble, it could be all the immortals . Clearly, Hanpa didn’t care about the difference between pantheons, or between gods and Titans, or even between gods and half-bloods. Everyone was going to die. She thought about her dad, Gleeson, and Millie. And, gods - Shel. Piper didn’t even know where she was.

Annabeth’s eyes flashed in Piper’s direction. The message was clear - Lahmu and Uridimmu didn’t plan on letting them leave in one piece. Uridummu had moved to completely block the door, and Lahmu’s voice was growing louder and sharper and colder as he showed them the gods lining the walls, laughing sadistically as he remembered how easy it had been to kill them all. 

Frank raised his bow again and pointed it at Uridimmu, who snarled in his direction. 

“Oh, you want to leave now?” Lahmu stopped walking and strode back into the center of the room. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” 

“Called it,” Frank muttered, his voice an octave higher than normal. 

“Now, Piper,” Annabeth hissed and Piper pulled the struggling fragments of her mind together to channel her charmspeak. 

“ Let. Us. Go. ” 

Lahmu faltered, and Piper felt a surge of satisfaction as he seemed to consider it. “I suppose…”

If by some surge of telepathy, Annabeth and Piper surged forward just as Frank loosed his arrow and caught the unsuspecting Uridimmu in the shoulder. All three of them raced towards the door, and Piper was sure she’d never run faster in her life. 

The wounded Uridimmu stumbled towards them, and Piper raised her shotgun and pulled the trigger as soon as Uridimmu’s face was within her line of fire, and Annabeth swung her sword in Lahmu’s direction. Thick black blood spattered the floor as Piper reached the door first, throwing her whole weight against it, and spilling out with her eyes closed tightly shut. 

She felt, more than heard, Frank and Annabeth spilling through the door after her and closing it tight, hearing Uridimmu’s snarl though it and Lahmu’s wail of “that’s not fair!”. 

Piper scrambled back from the door as something banged against the other side, squinting in the sudden sunlight. Annabeth was facing the door, her sword raised high and ready to slice down the next thing that came through, but the door disappeared in the blink of an eye, the Labyrinth swallowing it whole. 

Frank groaned, tipping his head back and sinking to the ground. “Thank the gods.”

“Uh-huh,” Piper agreed with a trembling nod as she dropped the shotgun and ran a shaking hand through her hair. She found a wall to lean against- they looked like they might be in an alley, the sounds of a busy city filling her ears. 

“Well,” Annabeth muttered, her arms sagging and the tip of her sword brushing the ground. “At least now we know who we’re really up against.” 

But before any of them could catch their breath, Piper’s heart surged up to lodge itself in her throat as she heard running footsteps, and with fingers faster than she thought she possessed, reloaded the shotgun and pointed to the end of the alley, Annabeth and Frank immediately at attention as well. 

A silhouette appeared, with a heavy ax raised. “Identify yourself!” It was a girl’s voice. 

“Wait!” Annabeth called, and to Piper’s horror, Annabeth lowered her sword. “Wait! Not monsters!” 

“Identify yourself!” the girl said again, and the shape of another person appeared behind her, another girl, her face also hidden by shadows. 

Annabeth released one of her hands from the hilt of her sword and raised it towards the girls. “I am Annabeth Chase, daughter of Frederick Chase and Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. Cousin of Magnus.” The first girl shuffled forward, the ax wavering slightly. “It’s just me,” Annabeth called again. “It’s okay, Sam. Promise.” 

The first girl sighed loudly and lowered her ax, approaching. “Don’t scare me like that.” She came into view, and Piper saw a girl in a green hijab, with piercing eyes and dressed in strange armor. “Who are your friends?”

“This is Piper, daughter of Aphrodite,” Annabeth said. “And Frank, son of Mars. Also demigods.” She turned to Frank and Piper, who hadn’t lowered their weapons. “It’s okay, guys. This is Sam. She’s a friend of Magnus’. We’ve reached Boston.”

Piper glanced back towards the other girl still hanging in the shadows at the edge of the alley. “She’s okay,” Sam said, looking back to the stranger. “Hey, come on.” 

Piper couldn’t imagine why she felt some weird surge in her stomach as the second girl approached, also bearing an ax. Maybe it was the way she walked that was so familiar, or the cut of her hair, or the rhinestone nose stud that winked against the darkness. But it was definitely the shock in the other girl’s eyes as Piper finally saw them in clear light that made Piper’s jaw drop. 

“Piper? You’re a demigod, too?”

“ Shel?! ”

“This is nuts,” Piper muttered into the tea Sam had set in front of her. Shel blinked nervously at her from across the table. “You’re a demigod? Norse?” 

Shel nodded. “My father is Modi, the god of valor. But I’m also a Valkyrie, chosen by Odin to bring the souls of dead heroes to the halls of Valhalla. Sam, here,” she gestured to Sam, who was deep in conversation with Annabeth and Frank at another table across the dining room of the restaurant. “is also a Valkyrie, my commander. She’s a demigod, too. Her father is Loki.” 

“Oh, I know that one,” Piper said, and found it in herself to grin. 

Shel snorted. “Loki is nothing like Tom Hiddleston.” There was an awkward pause. “I didn’t even know other pantheons existed,” Shel blurted out, shaking her head. “Sorry, I just- I never even suspected that other gods besides the Norse ones existed. I’m having a bit of an existential crisis right now.” 

Piper grinned. “Been there, done that. I mean, my mom claimed me right about the same time we started realizing that the Romans existed. You remember what I told you about my ex, Jason? He was a Roman demigod, a son of Jupiter. So’s Frank, over there. His dad is Mars, the Roman god of war. Most of our gods have two aspects, one Roman, one Greek.” 

Shel shook her head. “Wow. Greek and Roman gods. That’s wack.”

“Actually,” Piper couldn’t help but laugh, “you’ve already met one of them. Do you remember that one night when we first started dating, and we were hanging out on the roof at my dad’s place, and that guy randomly showed up?”

“Yeah,” Shel nodded. “You said he was a family friend.”

“Um, well, that’s not very far off. That was Apollo.”

Shel scoffed, bewildered. “You mean, like, the moon landing Apollo? Sun god with about five million other domains?”

“Yeah,” Piper grinned. 

“Well,” Shel starts smiling, too. “Do you remember those goats that were following us around that one day we went to the beach? Those were Tangrinnsir and Tanngnjostr. They pull my grandfather’s chariot.”

“And your grandfather is…” Piper prodded, grinning at how easily Shel said the Norse words.

“Thor.” 

“ Oh .” Piper’s eyebrows were raised, and she bit back a grin as Shel nodded, laughing to herself, but soon, she found herself grasping for straws. It was so awkward, she realized, knowing that your girlfriend has been keeping the same secret as you for three years. There was so much to talk about, to know and understand about Shel now, but Piper kept thinking back to Lahmu, and what he’d said about the destruction of all of the gods. She could only assume that meant Shel’s world, too. 

She watched as Sam stepped around the tables of the little restaurant they were in and spoke something in the ear of the man behind the counter. “What is this place?”

“Oh, this?” Shel looked around them at the restaurant. “Sam’s in-laws run this place. That’s Amir, her husband.”

“He knows about all of this?” Piper asked. “The gods, everything?”

“Yeah,” Shel nodded. “He’s chill.” 

“Huh.” Piper sipped her tea. “My dad doesn’t know. I mean, he knew a little bit, because he got kidnapped by giants, but then we wiped his memory, because he couldn’t handle it.” 

Shel’s eyebrows jumped up. “Oh.” 

There was another spell of awkward silence as Piper sipped her tea and Shel desperately looked for interesting things to stare at. Thankfully, Annabeth approached the table after another moment. “Sorry, girls,” she said, sliding onto the bench beside Piper. “You’re going to have to do a raincheck on The Big Talk. We need to find Odin.”

Shel snorted. “That won’t be hard. He’s in Valhalla. Most of the gods are, they’re too afraid to leave.” She must have seen the confused look on Piper’s face, because she added: “All the gods are mortal now.”

Piper shot a look up at Annabeth, who nodded in confirmation. “Our gods, too,” she said weakly. “So, that confirms it, right? Hanpa’s going after all the pantheons.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Annabeth held up her hand. “Two pantheons isn’t confirmation of anything.” 

“Well, it can’t be a coincidence,” Shel insisted. “We’ve been getting all these attacks lately from monsters we don’t recognize, and we don’t know why-”

“We do,” Piper said. “Scorpion mutants and bull men and giant snakes, right?” Shel nodded. “Mesopotamian, all of them.” She told Shel the story that Lahmu had told them, including the bits that the scribe god, Nabu, had left out except for the one bit included by one of his mortal offspring. She also told Shel about how Zeus had betrayed them, in order to find the Tablet of Destinies. 

“It makes sense, if you think about it,” Annabeth mused as Sam and Frank hovered by the table. “Zeus and Hanpa want the same thing, to remake the world. Hanpa needed Zeus to free him, and Zeus needed Hanpa to give him the Tablet to destroy everything and start over. That must have been the deal they made.” 

“But then why would Hanpa turn Zeus mortal, too, if they were on the same side?” Piper asked. 

“Maybe it was to cover up his own tracks until Hanpa could be sure he could find the Tablet,” Frank wondered aloud. “And once Apollo told everyone that Zeus had betrayed us, Hanpa realized there was no point in allowing us to keep him prisoner.” 

Annabeth shrugged. “I have no idea.” She stood up. “But we need to talk to Odin and tell him everything we know. Hanpa’s going to be a much bigger problem than we thought. If we can get ahead of him, amass an army of all the pantheons we can find, we might have a chance.”

“There was something else,” Piper said as they left the restaurant and started power-walking through the frost-bitten streets of Boston, looking like a very strange ragtag team. “I saw Marduk, and he told me that to find the Tablet, we should start in the Garden.”

“The Garden?” Annabeth frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Piper said, jogging slightly to catch up as they approached an 8-story mansion with a high fence. “He didn’t say.” 

Annabeth just nodded, and allowed Sam to lead them up to the mansion and push open the gate. But when Piper stepped through the gate, expecting to see the mansion straight ahead, she instead gasped and had to crane her head back. Instead of the mansion was instead a building that had to be several hundred floors, with massive windows and beautifully intricate art. “Welcome to Hotel Valhalla,” Shel smirked at her. 

Piper spun around. Where the gate had been was now a fifteen foot wall with no doors, and the courtyard was filled with trees with white bark and gold leaves. “This is nuts,” she said as Sam approached the front doors, giant double oak ones with a life-sized wolf’s head mounted as a knocker. 

“No kidding,” Frank agreed, gaping as Sam opened the doors. They all stepped into the lobby, and Piper vaguely wondered how any room this size was able to fit into any building. More statues and furs adorned the walls, a massive hearth was off to the side, with what looked like real trees acting as columns. “I wish Camp Jupiter or Camp Half-Blood were this nice.”

“Well, it’s all ashes now, so if you want to rebuild, I’m sure we can take some inspiration,” Piper smiled and elbowed Annabeth. “You in, Miss Architect?”

Annabeth grinned despite herself as she observed the lobby. “This is really cool…” 

Sam approached what looked like part of an overturned boat tapped on it to catch the attention of the guy with the massive beard sitting behind it. “Helgi, we need to talk to Odin.”

The guy raised an eyebrow at them. “And why should I do that?”

Annabeth stepped forward. “I am Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena and cousin of Magnus Chase. I speak on behalf of the Greco-Roman pantheon on the authority of the sun god Apollo. We have information that is useful to Odin, and a way we can make it out of this alive.” She touched the hilt of her sword, and Helgi shrank back ever so slightly. “We know the Norse gods are mortal now. So are the Greco-Romans. We can help each other here.”

Helgi seemed to consider for a moment, and, clearly deciding that Annabeth was good on her word (and talented enough with her sword to chop his head off, if she wanted), nodded shortly. He leaned down into his desk and pulled out three ID badges hanging from lanyards. Piper peered at hers as it was handed to her to read what it said: Visitor - Mortal! Do not kill!

Piper raised a perplexed eyebrow in Shel’s direction as Helgi pointed them down a hall and Sam led the way. “All the residents at Hotel Valhalla are dead,” Shel explained. “Odin collects fallen warriors to build his eternal army of einharjar, and they spend most of their time here training for Ragnarok. But they can’t really be harmed inside the bounds of the hotel, so they tend to… well, kill each other instead of settling arguments with words.” 

Piper slipped the badge on without further question. 

“Come on,” Sam beckoned them down a hall to the right, and Piper followed, her eyes the size of dinner plates as she took in the hotel. The ceiling rafts were made of spears, she realized, until they entered a cavernous room where the ceiling was literally a living tree. 

Suddenly, someone dropped from out of nowhere and Piper shrieked as a teenaged boy clambered to his feet in front of her. Another person fell, but landed on their feet and straightened up much faster than the boy. 

“Magnus!” Annabeth called, and tackled the boy into a hug. He had chin-length dirty blond hair and gray eyes, with a crooked grin and a thin stance, wearing a heavy-looking pendant on a cord around his neck. He almost looked like a less tan Will Solace, Piper mused as the boy greeted Sam with a weird air-hug gesture. Or, maybe like Kurt Cobain. 

Piper looked towards the other person. They had bright green hair and two-toned eyes, one brown and one amber, with sharp features and wearing a mishmash of pink and green clothes. 

“Guys,” Annabeth said to Piper and Frank, “this is my cousin Magnus, and this is Alex, Sam’s sibling and Magnus’ partner.” Alex gave them a nod by way of a greeting as Annabeth finished the introductions and hugged Sam tightly, whispering something in her ear that made Sam chuckle. 

“So,” Magnus grinned at them. “Greeks, huh?”

“I’m Roman, actually,” Frank raised his hand.

“Oh, sorry, man,” Magnus quickly apologized. “You’re going to have to update me on everything,” he said to Annabeth and Sam continued leading them down the hall. Annabeth gave him the fastest rundown Piper had ever heard, and before long, they stopped in front of another giant set of oak doors with another golden life-sized knocker, this one in the shape of a raven. 

“Okay,” Magnus nodded. “I got like, maybe half of that.”

“I can explain more later,” Annabeth said, then turned to Sam. “Odin’s waiting for us in there?”

“Yep,” Sam said. 

Annabeth turned back to Piper and Frank. “Ready?”

Piper nodded, even though she didn’t feel very ready. She felt Shel squeeze her hand, and felt a tiny surge of confidence as Annabeth pushed open the door. 

This room wasn’t as huge, but it was definitely beautiful. Statues and furs and a giant mantle adorned the edges, and another tree took up the center of the room, with white bark and gold leaves like the ones from the courtyard outside. On the other side of the tree was a desk, at which sat a huge man with a wide chest, short gray hair, and a black patch over one eye. He wore a green polo with the logo of the hotel emblazoned across the pocket, and a massive sword hung at his side. There was an unhealed cut under his eye, and Piper could see it was an angry red. Mortal. 

“Lord Odin,” Sam stepped forward and bowed slightly. Magnus, Alex, and Shel lingered behind them. “I bring Annabeth, daughter of Athena, Piper, daughter of Aphrodite, and Frank, son of Mars, to seek audience and assistance.”

Odin raised an eyebrow in their direction, and Piper felt like she was being x-rayed. “Explain yourself. You are here on Zeus’ behalf?”

“No, Lord Odin,” Annabeth shuffled forward to stand at Sam’s side. “I come from Apollo. Zeus is a traitor.” 

Odin’s brow furrowed and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his thick, hairy forearms over his chest. “What is this?”

Annabeth inhaled deeply. “It’s a long story.”

“I have the time,” Odin said, beckoning her closer. “Go on.”

Chapter Text

“How much further?” Apollo muttered, mostly to himself. Thalia thought that was a stupid question, considering he was the one driving. 

“I saw a sign for Sacramento about six miles back. Give it another ten minutes,” Demarus said patiently from the passenger seat. 

“You’re too nice to him, Demarus,” Thalia sighed. 

“Maybe so,” Demarus shrugged, turning in his seat to look at her sitting in the back row of the tiny car. “But let it be known-”

“Aaugh!” Thalia yelped and the car swerved. Well, Apollo swerved, because his vision through the front windshield was suddenly blocked by a holographic image of a small crowd of people. “Pull over!” Thalia yelled at Apollo, who only waved her off with a free hand, and with a series of bumps and jerks, rolled to a stop in the grass on the side of the highway. 

“ Sorry !” said one of the people in the hologram, and it was only after Thalia had the time to gather her frazzled thoughts that she realized it was Annabeth. “ I didn’t know you were driving. ”

“What is this?” Demarus muttered, leaning in towards the hologram and poking through it with a finger. It was a strange, shifting, slightly glittery kind of image that Thalia didn’t recognize either. She looked into the hologram again, and saw Piper and Frank, thankfully unharmed, along with a group of other people she didn’t recognize, with two guys standing at the front: one very short with dark skin and very well dressed, and other, very tall and pale with spiky white hair. 

The tall thin guy with spiky hair signed something and the shorter guy next to him translated for them. “It’s rune magic. Ansuz. ”

“I don’t know what that even means,” Thalia muttered. 

“Norse magic,” Apollo said, squinting around the hologram to see the road ahead of them. He sighed, then looked up towards Annabeth. “What’s up? Who…?”

“ Oh, right. Sorry. ” Annabeth pointed to each of the newcomers in turn. “Magnus” was a guy with chin-length dirty blonde hair, “Alex” was the person standing beside him with a shock of bright green hair, “Shel,” was a girl in a green shawl standing suspiciously close to Piper, “Sam” was the girl in a hijab, and the two guys in front were “Hearth” and “Blitz”. 

“And you’re all… Norse demigods?” Thalia raised an eyebrow.

“ Kind of ,” Blitz raised his hand, and gestured to himself and Hearth. “ I’m also a dwarf, and Hearth here is an elf. ” 

“Moving on,” Apollo said pointedly. “What’s going on?”

“We’re in Valhalla right now,” Annabeth explained. “And we just spoke with Odin. He’s prepared to send these guys,” she gestured to the group behind her, “to the Waystation with us, and says he can join us with an army of einherjar when you know what it is we’re up against. And,” she tensed, as if nervous to share, “all the Norse gods are mortal now, too. And so were the Mesopotamians, we saw some of them.”

Demarus facepalmed with a loud groan. “You’re kidding,” Thalia pleaded. There goes one of their last real chances to get out of this alive. Stupidly, she’d thought that if any other pantheon could find it in themselves to be kind, they might have helped. But not now, when all the gods are mortal, sniveling and whining all the way. 

Apollo sighed heavily, as if he’d been expecting this. Thalia saw Demarus side-eye him. “What else?”

“Well, we found out why Hanpa’s doing all this. He wants revenge on all the gods, every pantheon, for killing Tiamut and Abzu, the primordial Mesopotamian gods.” 

Demarus nodded. “The Enuma Elish. I know it. But Hanpa’s not in it, is he?”

“ No ,” Annabeth shook her head. “ We found one of Tiamut’s sons, and he said it was because the scribe god, Nabu, removed him from the records to make humanity forget him. One of the only reasons he’s managed to avoid fading for so long is because one of Nabu’s mortal offspring recorded it in a passage about Hanpa’s son, Pazuzu. ” 

“That’s who we’re trying to find right now,” Thalia realized. “Pazuzu.” She caught Demarus looking down at his hands, with his brow furrowed, and added another thing to the list of questions she needed to ask. 

Apollo seemed to notice Demarus, too, but he just looked up towards Annabeth again. “Anything else?” 

“ Yeah ,” she said. “ Piper says that one of the Mesopotamian gods told her we could find the Tablet in the Garden. But none of us know what that means. ” 

“Just… just ‘the Garden’?” Apollo asked, his eyebrow raised. Piper nodded. “Well, okay. Hopefully finding Pazuzu will answer the several million things we need to figure out.”

Thalia waved goodbye as the hologram fizzled out and an awkward silence filled the car. “You know Nabu?” Apollo asked Demarus, who was still looking down at his hands like they were the most interesting things he’d seen. 

Demarus looked up, as if only just remembering that he wasn’t alone in the car. “Well, yes,” he said after a moment. He spared a glance for Thalia, who bowed her head to the side, knowing when she wasn’t the intended audience of a conversation. “I’m afraid I haven’t been telling the… full truth,” Demarus said, his voice lower, clearly speaking only to Apollo. “You know my mother is Mnemosyne, and my father was a mortal… but he was actually a demigod, too. And, well… his father was Nabu. The Mesopotamian god of scribes. I am of both pantheons.”

Apollo was quiet for a second. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Zeus preferred it that way. I suppose he had his reasons.”

Apollo snorted. “Don’t know how valid those reasons could have been,” he muttered as he shifted gears, and the car started moving forward again.

“I’m sorry,” Demarus said softly.

Thalia saw Apollo shake his head out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t. Your story is your own.” There was silence for another couple minutes, slightly tense. “So, was it you?”

“What do you mean?” Demarus asked.

“The descendant of Nabu who recorded the only passage about Hanpa. Was it you?”

“No,” Demarus said, shaking his head. “No, I would remember.” 

Thalia, finally feeling safe enough to join the conversation again, looked up just to see them passing an exit sign for Sacramento. “So… the Norse gods are mortal now, huh?”

Apollo shrugged. “I thought something like that might happen.”

“Huh?” Thalia shot him a look, but he looked unfrazzled as he gently steered the car towards the towering city. “What- How?”

“The prophecy,” Apollo said shortly. “Crowns, kingdoms… Plural. I wondered if there was more than one at stake, but leave it to Zeus, you know?”

Thalia heard Demarus mutter the prophecy under his breath again: 

“Crowns fall to ash as the staggering one comes near with the poet’s words.

Behold the kingdoms - if those warnings are heeded, new kings build anew.

With destiny in hand, at the break of the dawn, death will meet the stars.”

“The entire first line makes more sense now,” Apollo said, mostly to himself. “Hesiod’s prediction, and Estelle, was Zeus’ motivation… the staggering one coming near, that’s Hanpa. Crowns fall to ash, that must mean all the pantheons becoming mortal. But,” he blew a raspberry, “that’s the only part that makes sense.”

“I mean,” Thalia said slowly, “the second line makes some sense, too.”

“Warnings are heeded?” Demarus frowned. “When the Kanes arrived on Olympus, they said to ‘heed their warnings’, but we didn’t.”

“We are now, though,” Thalia pointed out. “ New kings build anew could mean anything, though. It could mean Zeus, if he succeeds, or… it could mean you ,” she said, and met Apollo’s eye in the rearview mirror. He quickly looked away. 

“And then the third line,” Demarus continued awkwardly. “ Break of dawn, death will meet the stars ? In prophecy-speak, that could mean anything.”

“But,” Thalia tilted her head to the side, “‘ With destiny in hand ’... that could mean the Tablet of Destinies. And ‘ death will meet the stars ’ sounds pretty foreboding… what if that’s when either Zeus or Hanpa get their hands on it?”

Apollo winced as he steered the car off onto a back road. “Let’s just find Pazuzu first, yeah?” 

Thalia furrowed her brow after a moment when she realized Apollo was no longer steering them towards the city. “Where are we going?”

“The Sacramento river,” Apollo said shortly, driving along the gravel roads faster than Thalia was comfortable with, bumping and rocking all the way. After another ten minutes, the car rumbles to a stop in the parking lot of what might be a park, with walking paths and abandoned playgrounds. Thalia could hear the sound of the river rustling against her ears. 

She watched as Apollo exited the car, opening the trunk, and grabbing his bow and quiver. Thalia, exchanging an equally confused glance with Demarus, clambered out of the car as well and grabbed her weapons as well. By the time she strapped everything to herself, sliding her hunter’s knife into the sheathe strapped to her thigh, Apollo had already set off, trudging through the tall grass towards the sound of the river. 

“Has he said who it is we’re supposed to be meeting here?” Thalia asked Demarus as they followed at a distance. 

Demarus shook his head, not taking his eyes off the back of Apollo’s head. “No. He keeps avoiding it. I think… he might be embarrassed.” 

Thalia frowned. What could he possibly have to be embarrassed about? But, as she really thought about it, that wasn’t really a short list. 

They finally caught up to Apollo, where he had stopped right at the bank of the river. The whole thing must have been about 25 meters across, the bank of the other side hidden in the treeline, obscured in shadow from the low-hanging sun. Thalia raised a hand to cover the glare as she peered in the same direction as Apollo, who was looking intently down the bank. 

She nearly missed it - the flash of a shadow on the other bank, moving faster than anything she’s ever seen, darker than shadows, and most certainly not shaped like a human. She seized her bow immediately and, nocking an arrow, raised it and pointed it where the shadow had disappeared. 

“What?” Apollo asked quickly, doing the same and peering across the river. 

“I saw something. A monster, definitely.” 

Demarus eyed across the river as well. Thalia eyed him as he pulled one of those yellow pencils she used to use in elementary school, complete with the vibrant pink cap eraser. It looked so small and breakable in his hand, but with surprising deftness, he spun it between his fingers and, in a flash, it transformed into a gleaming bronze spear. 

“It’s too deep to cross here,” he said, ignoring the fact that Thalia and Apollo were both openly gaping at him. “We’d have to hike for a couple miles - I saw a bridge a little while back.” 

“Or,” Apollo pointed to a sign not too far away, and in the distance she could see another bridge upstream. 

“Ah,” Demarus nodded. “Yes, we can do that, too.”

“We’ll lose it by then, though,” Thalia frowned. “It’s not like - augh !” For the second time that day, she yelped as the monster emerged from the shadows and flew across the river several hundred meters upstream, heading towards the bridge. She was already breaking into a run. 

The asphalt path leading towards the bridge was, thankfully, solid under her feet as she sprinted towards the bridge, spying the flash of the shadowy monster ahead as she pumped her legs faster. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Apollo break away towards the bank, but she kept ahead until the path curved onto the bridge, where she finally got a glimpse of the monster running away and-

It fell to the ground at the sound of the twang of a bow. Gasping for breath, Thalia stumbled to a stop right beside the felled monster. 

It almost looked human, like a man, but his ears were pointed, he was bald, and his skin had a strange grayish color. Well, human enough as he could look with the giant leathery wings that were folded against his back as he struggled on the ground, cursing and groaning. His fingers and bare toes were strangely pointy, and he wore a bedraggled black tunic as his only clothes. 

Thalia whistled out loud as she spied Apollo’s shot that had tripped the monster - a clean arrow through both of his sinewy calves, pierced right at the moment his legs were on the same plane. Apollo must have meticulously timed the rhythm of the monster’s footsteps within five seconds to get that shot. 

“Nice,” she nodded towards him as he jogged up to survey the monster. 

“Speak,” Apollo said sharply, nudging the monster with his foot, who looked more perturbed at having been caught than he looked in pain. “What is your name?”

The monster grumbled, wriggling so he was sitting up, his wings flapping angrily, but Thalia couldn’t see any weapons on him so she didn’t protest. “I am Pazuzu.”

Thalia felt a surge of something deep in her stomach. Maybe victory, maybe fear. But they were one step closer to their answers, she thought as she looked down at Pazuzu and wondered what he was about to tell them. 

“Okay,” Apollo muttered, mostly to himself as he surveyed the rest of the bridge, then walked over to its edge to peer at the water below. “Okay…”

“Hey,” Pazuzu said loudly as Demarus stepped onto the bridge, having been following at a slower pace. “Hey, I know you.”

Demarus frowned, clearly confused. “No, you don’t.” 

“Yeah,” Pazuzu flicked a wrist. “We’ve met. A long time ago, I don’t expect you to remember-”

“No,” Demarus looked more shocked than confused as he stepped closer, hesitant. “I would remember. I remember everything. We’ve never met before.” 

Pazuzu snorted. “Okay, sure.” 

Apollo spared only one confused glance between them as he stepped back towards Pazuzu and crouched down. “There was a woman, wasn’t there? Where is she?”

“What are you talking about?” Thalia muttered, but Apollo ignored her. 

Pazuzu bared his teeth, but not menacingly. Thalia noticed that they were sharp, too. “She was a pain, she was.”

Was? Clearly, Apollo had caught onto the past tense, too, as his fingers ghosted towards the knife strapped to his leg. “What did you do to her?”

The sound of splashing water alerted Thalia to the other end of the bridge, where a woman had suddenly appeared out of seemingly thin air. She was, frankly, absolutely gorgeous, with olive skin and dark hair that cascaded down her back, dripping but already curling at the ends, wearing armor made of coral that looked like it had flecks of gold in it, and a chiton that was sticking to her wet legs. She carried a spear that had two sharp points on either end and she was very, very muscled. 

“Aw, were you worried about me?” she grinned, walking towards them. Thalia didn’t raise her bow, guessing by Apollo’s visible sigh of relief that this woman was the friend he had been planning on meeting. “You didn’t have to do that, baby.” 

Thalia sputtered. “ Baby? ”

“Ugh,” Pazuzu made a sound of disgust. “Don’t tell me she’s your wife, or something.”

“Closest he’ll ever get,” the woman flaunted as she approached and leaned her spear against the railing of the bridge so she could use both hands to wring out her hair. 

Apollo sighed, but Thalia didn’t miss the little quirk of his lips as he stood up. “Uh, this is Thalia and Demarus,” he introduced them to the woman, then turned back towards the both of them, who were trying and failing to mask their confusion. “Guys, this is Cyrene.” 

Chapter Text

Thalia was pretty sure that Cyrene was the coolest person she’d ever met. She’d heard Cyrene’s story, it was difficult not to, being surrounded by Hunters who had met her before. But this? This was something else.

It was probably one of the only times in all her years as a demigod and with the Hunters that Thalia had ever been well and truly starstruck. 

“You stopped visiting me again,” Cyrene said, raising an eyebrow in Apollo’s direction.

He held up a finger. “I was on house arrest. I had a very good excuse this time around.” 

Cyrene’s green eyes bore into Thalia’s as she scoffed away from Apollo. “You’re a Hunter,” Cyrene clocked her immediately. “I can spot them from a mile away.” 

Thalia nodded. 

“She’s Artemis’ lieutenant, actually,” Apollo added. 

Thalia waved a hand as Cyrene’s eyebrows raised in interest, but snapped her mouth shut as Demarus cleared his throat from off to the side. 

Apollo clicked his tongue, looking down at Pazuzu, who was avoiding their eyes like he could disappear if he focused hard enough. “I’ll let you go if you give us some answers,” Apollo said firmly.

Pazuzu’s leathery wings twitched and his eyes narrowed, clawed fingers scratching against the pavement of the bridge beneath them. “Who said I wanted to be free?”

Cyrene snorted. “I’ve been tracking you for a full day now. If you didn’t want to be free, why did you run?”

Pazuzu stared at her and shrugged like the question she was asking was absurd. “You were chasing me! I thought you were going to kill me! I don’t care about being free, but I don’t want to be dead!”

Thalia frowned. “Why do you not care about being free, though?”

Pazuzu shrugged again. “Because it doesn’t matter, I suppose. What you have planned for me can’t be any worse than-”

“Than what?” Apollo pressed as Pazuzu snapped his mouth shut. “Than your father?”

Pazuzu stared at him for another moment, then deflated. “Fine. Yes.” He splayed his hands, as if asking ‘are you happy now?’. Thalia was decidedly not happy. 

Pazuzu pointed at Demarus. “Which you would know if you remembered me-”

“I don’t!” Demarus snapped. 

Thalia blinked. She’d never heard Demarus so much as raise his voice, much less stalk towards somebody and raise a threatening finger in their face. Pazuzu raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Okay,” Apollo stepped forward swiftly, placing a hand on Demarus’ shoulder, who deflated nearly instantly. “Okay. That’s- we’ll figure that out, okay? But we have to get a move on.” He kneeled down in front of Pazuzu again. “If you don’t want to be free, fine. We’ll take you with us to Indianapolis if you give us some answers.”

“And if I don’t?” Pazuzu asked, sounding nervous. 

“Then we’ll leave you here. I’m sure your father’s lackeys have been following us since we left Camp Jupiter. It won’t take long for them to find you here,” Apollo said, waving a hand at the arrow through Pazuzu’s calves. 

Pazuzu paled, his skin turning nearly transparent with how pale he already was. “Okay. Okay, fine. Deal. What do you want to know?”

“Tell us about your father. Hanpa.”

Pazuzu’s eyes darted around, as if searching for an adequate answer. “It’s been so long. He’s been locked up in E-abzu for millenia-”

“What’s E-abzu?” Cyrene interrupted.

“Enki’s temple, created from the remains of the freshwater god Abzu when he was slain,” Pazuzu answered quickly. “Hanpa had been locked up there, since he couldn’t be destroyed, forgotten from human memory,” he said, shooting a meaningful look at Demarus, who scoffed and started walking away. 

Thalia saw Apollo’s gaze follow him, but didn’t say anything. 

“Until…” Thalia prodded and Pazuzu nodded.

“Yes. Until Zeus found him a few weeks ago.” 

“And how did that happen?” Cyrene pushed. 

Pazuzu shrugged. “I don’t know. I hang around E-abzu sometimes, you know? I mean, I never go inside, I don’t have a death wish. But there’s only so many places in Ancient Mesopotamia that have survived up ‘till now, and E-abzu is so well hidden that it’s preserved really well-”

“You hang around your father’s eternal prison because you’re homesick,” Thalia deadpanned.

Pazuzu frowned. “Not homesick, I-”

“Get to the point,” Cyrene interrupted. 

“Okay, well, Zeus showed up one day and went inside, I followed because I apparently do have a death wish, and Zeus started asking about the Tablet of Destinies, and stuff, and then they made some kind of deal, Zeus released Hanpa, and then they kind of just disappeared.” 

“We knew all this already,” Apollo nodded, frowning. “How did they turn all the pantheons mortal?”

“Well, they used the Tablet, obviously,” Pazuzu said. "Except for the Egyptians... the Duat protects them too well. But I don't think my father expects them to be a problem, since they've been in exile for a while-"

Thalia stared at him, quickly waving her hand to interrupt his rambling about... duets or whatever. “You mean… Zeus and Hanpa already have the Tablet?”

“Well, no,” Pazuzu shrugged. “They found it, used it to turn the gods mortal… and then I stole it.”

They all just stared. “You… you stole the Tablet of Destinies?” Thalia asked weakly.

“Well, yeah.” 

“Do you still have it?” Apollo asked calmly, but he looked more stressed out than Thalia had ever seen in her life. 

Pazuzu scoffed. “No. I don’t have a death wish, remember? I put it back.” 

Thalia felt Apollo’s long-suffering sigh somewhere deep in her soul. “Okay…” he muttered, clearly trying not to do something drastic, like yell or have a mental breakdown. “Where is it? How do we get it?”

Pazuzu frowned, his leathery bat-like wings rustling against the concrete. “Why?”

Apollo’s eye twitched. Thalia decided to step in. “Listen. Zeus wants to basically wipe out all of civilization, and Hanpa is, well, crazy. We’re trying to save lives, and as long as either of them have a shot at getting the Tablet, we’re in danger of being wiped out.”

“Hanpa has already killed your entire pantheon,” Demarus said, walking back over, having apparently cooled off enough to rejoin the conversation. “The Mesopotamian gods are all dead.”  Pazuzu paused, staring up at Demarus, his mouth slightly agape.  “Do you get it now?” Demarus asked coldly. “You are the last of the Mesopotamian gods. That is the degree of this. So either you help us find the Tablet, or you die.” 

“We all do,” Apollo added. “There’s nothing left if you don’t help us.” He leaned forward, and Pazuzu flushed. “Tell us how to get to the Tablet.” 

Pazuzu nodded, swallowing heavily. “There’s several ways. Multiple gateways across the world, changing all the time. Found in places where the aura of the gods is the strongest. They all lead to the Garden, the home of the gods.”

“The Garden,” Thalia repeated. “That’s where Marduk told Piper to start looking for it.”

Pazuzu nodded. “It’s more commonly known as the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Enki keeps the Tablet there. But getting into the Garden isn’t the hard part - accessing the Tablet is. Enki kept it behind powerful magical wards.” 

“The Hanging Gardens of Babylon?” Thalia asked, brow furrowed. “I’ve seen the remains, it’s nothing but ruins now.”

“The mortals see the ruins,” Pazuzu corrected her. “But the real Garden is hidden.”

“Oh, by the Mist,” Thalia realized. 

Pazuzu clearly didn’t recognize the term, but continued. “To access the Tablet and get through Enki’s wards, it requires the ritualistic sacrifice of three souls of those who have known your enemy.” 

Apollo frowned. Thalia could tell he didn't like the idea of ritualistic sacrifices in order to get the Tablet for themselves. But they had to, it may be their only hope, both to prevent Hanpa and Zeus from getting it, and to give the gods their immortality back and defeat Hanpa once and for all. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she said quietly. He nodded silently. 

Cyrene stepped forward. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said to Apollo. “We can’t go barging into the Garden without a plan. If Hanpa really has killed all the Mesopotamian gods, then it’s probably swarming. We should head to Indianapolis, and make a plan from there.” 

Apollo nodded, but narrowed his eyes in Pazuzu’s direction. “At least show me one of the gateways to the Garden.”

“There’s one in the E-abzu,” Pazuzu said, nodding his head. “I can show you that one.”  Apollo nodded in agreement, then leaned down towards Pazuzu to take out the arrow in his legs. 

“Hang on,” Cyrene started, and Apollo looked up at her with a ‘what is it this time’ look on his face. “I just said we need to be careful. You’re mortal now, if you don’t remember.” 

Apollo shrugged. “I’ve done worse while mortal” 

“It’s true,” Thalia nodded along.

“Yeah, like I don’t know that,” Cyrene snorted. She raised an eyebrow in Demarus’ direction. “Are you going to stop him?”

“I’ve learned better than to try,” Demarus said simply. 

Cyrene observed him with narrowed eyes for a moment longer before she gave up and picked up her spear again.  Apollo finished bandaging Pazuzu’s legs, who hopped to his feet like his legs hadn’t had an arrow through them for the last ten minutes. “Okay, I just need you to…” he gestured with clawed hands for them to bunch together, and they did with narrowed eyes.  Then, in a loud whooshing sound, he raised his leathery wings and spread them, covering them all with a massive shadow, and the middle of the day turned to pitch-black night. 

Thalia stumbled, Apollo’s hand on her wrist the only thing that kept her upright. She shuffled her feet, trying to regain her balance, which was shockingly difficult because she really couldn’t tell if her eyes were even open. Wherever they had ended up was completely dark. 

“Fates, I hate shadow-traveling,” Apollo grumbled next to her. At least, Thalia thought he was next to her. She couldn’t see anything. 

“We’re underground,” Cyrene murmured somewhere in the darkness, and Thalia heard the sound of shuffling feet. The ground beneath her own was rocky and uneven, sloping down one way and up the other. Like she was standing at the edge of a pit. Even the echo of Cyrene’s voice unsettled her. 

“Which way?” Apollo murmured. 

There was the sound of someone scoffing, probably Pazuzu. “Um, I don’t know? I’ve never been in here before. I literally said that like, five times.” 

Thalia tipped her head back. “I’m going to strangle him,” she muttered, and she heard Cyrene snicker beside her. “Whatever,” she said, then slung her bag off her shoulder and fished out a couple flashlights and passed them around. “Better start looking, then.” 

She flicked the flashlight on, and passing it along the walls, realized that her first impression was correct. They stood at the edge of a deep pit in a humongous cavern. The light didn’t reach the opposite wall, like the pit was sucking all the light away. Thalia spared a glance at Apollo, who was looking around like he would rather be literally anywhere else. She could sympathize - underground wasn’t her favorite place, either. 

She watched some more as Apollo looked at all the walls of the cavern, with carved depictions of gods and monsters she didn't recognize, but saw no other tunnels or exits, nothing in the ceiling. The only way to go was down. He pointed his flashlight into the pit and made a face. “You don’t think…?”

“I do think,” Demarus grumbled along, then started forward as Apollo took a shuffling step forward. “What are you doing?”

Apollo shuffled forward again, his feet slipping on the loose rocks as the floor sloped further into the pit. “Stay there.” 

“Um, no?” Cyrene reached out, but at that moment, there was a terrible wheezing groaning sound, loud enough that it grated against Thalia’s very brain, coming from deep within the pit. 

“Uh, oh,” Apollo got out before the ground beneath his feet started to shake, and his feet started to slip even more. 

“No!” Cyrene dashed forward, but she was too late, swiping out into thin air as Apollo’s feet slid on the rocks and the earth shook even more. Demarus grabbed her wrist so she wouldn’t fall, too, but looked like he wanted nothing more than to jump in right after Apollo. 

Thalia watched, helpless, creeping forward as far as she dared, as Apollo scrabbled at the rocks, then with a nearly-silent gasp, disappeared into the darkness and the wheezing noise stopped. She gasped. It happened so fast-

“Get me down there!” Cyrene spun around to Pazuzu, who shrunk back. “Now!”

“Wait!” Thalia waved a hand as she thought she heard something, shushing Cyrene as she stalked towards Pazuzu, ready to rip his wings off with her bare hands. “Wait, I hear something!” 

Sure enough, she could hear unintelligible echoes of voices, from deep within the pit. She strained her ears to hear something, anything . 

“What did I ever do to you?” That was Apollo, it had to be, sounding tired and angry. He didn’t sound like he was in pain at all. So he was alright. But… who was he talking to? 

Thalia had a hunch. 

“Do you take me for a fool? Or an idiot?” 

Yep. 

Cyrene and Demarus immediately spun on Pazuzu. “Get us down there,” he snapped. “Now.” 

“Why?” Pazuzu blinked at them. “Who-?”

“Zeus,” Thalia, Cyrene, and Demarus said in unison.

Pazuzu winced and nodded. “Ah.” He stepped forward, but just as Thalia felt his cold, clawed fingers on her arm, she heard Apollo speak again. He didn’t sound fine this time.

“I’m going to kill you myself , ” Apollo vowed, angry and stubborn, and definitely sounding winded.

“Will you, now?” Zeus replied, sounding cold. 

She clapped a hand to her mouth as a crackling, fizzing noise came out of the pit, then even more horrifying, a white, crackling light. Then the scream. A terrible, sobbing-

“Now!” Cyrene was begging Pazuzu at this point, and it took very little convincing for Pazuzu to spread his wings again and hoist them up into the air, then down into the cavernous pit. 

Thalia was doing her best to ignore the screams of pain as air wooshed by her ears. Better that than dwell on it, or the sound of crackling lightning. 

The floor came up below her feet faster than she was expecting it, and she tumbled to the ground. Cyrene, on the other hand, leapt forward as soon as she could, raising her spear and chucking it as hard as she could where the shadow of Zeus was leaning over a now-silent Apollo.

“Get off him!” Demarus roared, louder than Thalia had ever heard him before, and raised his own weapon. 

Thalia gasped again, feeling Pazuzu’s fingers leave her arm, and scrambled to her feet. She raised her flashlight as the sound and light of the fizzing lightning died out. So had Apollo. His body was still, not even twitching. Her heart sank. 

Zeus glared at his attackers, stepping away from Apollo but standing in the way so none of them could approach. Cyrene, now weaponless, stood her ground, and Demarus’ face was screwed up in anger. Then his gaze swept over to Thalia.

He held out a hand. “Come, daughter.” 

She resisted the urge to shrink back. Of all the times she’d met her father, all the times she’d assumed he’d never hurt her… but her own brother lay motionless on the ground. Dead, maybe. She couldn’t tell. 

“I will not harm you,” Zeus promised. Cyrene and Demarus stood, glaring, but silent. Waiting for her. “Apollo deserved it.” 

“You-” Demarus started, but Zeus ignored him, shooting off errant lightning and Demarus, for all his bravery, closed his mouth with a snap and seemed to shrink back in on himself. 

An idea flashed through Thalia’s head. She stepped forward, her shuffling footsteps the only sound now. Stepping between Cyrene and Demarus, she could feel their eyes on her. She didn’t meet them, even as her hand landed on her father’s outstretched one. She’d never even touched him before, she realized now as Zeus led her towards a fissure in the wall of the pit. 

Her heartbeat quickened as she saw a solid-looking shadow moving slightly in the darkness. Zeus nodded to it, and it nodded back, and the last thing Thalia saw as the darkness took her away was Demarus hoisting Apollo’s lifeless body into his arms.

Chapter Text

Thalia tried to blink the image of a limp Apollo out of her mind as she was led towards what she assumed was the enemy camp, right on Zeus’ heels. He didn’t seem all that concerned about whether or not she could stab him in the back right now. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a lack of concern, but a trust he’d placed in the wrong person…

There was no way in hell she would be joining his side. Never, not in a million years. But she had so many questions, and talking to Pazuzu had only raised more.  She intended to find out. And if Zeus was ready to welcome her into his fold, then that was his own damn fault. 

“You killed him,” she said, ignoring her surroundings for the time being. Not that there was much to see - they were walking along old, craggy stone, rocky hills, and sparse leafy green plants as far as the eye could see in the looming darkness of nightfall. 

“A necessary price to pay for our future,” Zeus said gruffly, not turning to look at her as he strode quickly up, down, and around hills, making his way to a particularly stony mound off in the distance. 

“What- what do you mean?” Thalia pressed, thankful that Artemis’ blessing gave her increased stamina - Zeus was walking very fast. 

“Apollo had the chance to build a better future. He could have cooperated, and he did not. He became an obstacle, nothing more.”

“A better future… meaning what?”

Zeus finally spared her a glance, his piercing blue eyes flashing in her direction, but not menacingly enough to make her shrink back. “This world is dying. Civilization, nature, all of it. There is nothing left of the ages that celebrated us.”  Us. Thalia definitely noticed that she was included. So, what? Zeus wanted to return to the days in which he was the revered, venerated king of the gods? Yes, that sounded right.  “It is for the greater good,” Zeus continued. “Apollo would have me preserve this world, broken as it is. He should have known better. But now I have the Fates on my side.” 

“You do?” It slipped out before Thalia could realize that she had slipped up. “Um, I mean, of course you do.” 

Zeus didn’t smile, his stoney face barely twitching. “The prophecy made by the poet Hesiod, the gray-haired child. Yes, the Fates agree. It is high time the Iron Age ended.”

Thalia bit her tongue rather than voice her own opinion, and Apollo’s as well: Hesiod was no prophet. Just a man. 

“It is good I prepared when I did,” Zeus continued, and Thalia kept her mouth shut. Better to let him keep rambling than clue him in that she’s only following him to get information. “Before I knew of the child, I had to work in secrecy. But now they all see it for what it is.” 

“The prophecy,” Thalia prodded him along. “You’d seen this coming, hadn’t you?”

Zeus stepped up onto a particularly high rock and Thalia scrambled up after him. He didn’t slow down for her.  “I’d never forgotten Hesiod’s prophecy. I knew this would come eventually. When the next Great Prophecy came three years ago, I was reminded of it and began my preparations. When Demarus reported that he’d seen the child that fit Hesiod’s descriptions, I knew I must be correct.” 

“But you had missed something,” Thalia guessed. 

Zeus slowed slightly, sparing a slight glance over his shoulder with something less hardened than before. It couldn’t be pride in his eyes, could it? Something cold shivered down Thalia’s spine at the thought of that. 

“I didn’t miss anything,” he grumbled. “I knew the Tablet of Destinies existed, of course. It has always been the key to my plans. No other object can rival the power it bestows upon it's holder, and it's exactly what I need if I am to rebuild this world completely. The only problem was locating it. Hanpa has proven most useful.”

Thalia balked. “Father, Hanpa is a primordial god of evil. You can’t tell me you trust him, do you?”

Zeus snorted angrily. “Of course I don’t trust him. I’m not an idiot, child.” He sniffed and continued walking, speeding up again. “He has something I need, and I had something he needed.” 

Thalia paused. “Which was?” She knew he and Hanpa had set a deal with regards to the Tablet. Was she about to find out?

“We both need the Tablet of Destinies. I, to renew this world and make it better than the last. He, to do the same. We have the same goal, albeit his motivation is more out of a place of revenge. He has already succeeded in his task of disposing of the Mesopotamian gods; the rest are next. But I needed information, and he needed someone to free him from E-Abzu. As it stands, we are equals who have no desire to be enemies.” 

Thalia resisted the urge to laugh. Never before had she been so fully convinced that her father must be an idiot. Like a god of evil isn’t going to make enemies regardless of who is and isn’t his equal.  “And the other gods? Greco-Roman, Egyptian, Norse… what? You’re going to kill them too?” For crimes they didn’t commit, she didn’t add. While she might have a bone to pick with some of them, did that really mean that they deserved to die just because Zeus wanted to remake the world, and Hanpa wanted revenge? 

“They have turned against me. No matter. Once I have the Tablet, they are all replaceable.” 

Replaceable. That’s a word for it. Although, depending on what the Tablet of Destinies could do, it might be true.  “When will you get it, then? The Tablet?” she asked, trying to sound somewhat innocent while still trying to glean information. Information she’d never get back to anybody that matters if she didn’t keep up the act that she really was there to be Zeus’ right-hand woman. “Didn’t you… already have it?”

Zeus soured, and she feared she’d lost her chance. But he continued walking, his face darkening like his iconic thunderclouds. 

“Hanpa has a son. Pazuzu.” 

“Yes,” Thalia said, figuring she needed to contribute a little bit of information herself if she wanted to stay undercover. “Apollo found him.” 

“He was there,” a quiet, rasping voice sounded right next to her ear, and she jumped so violently she nearly ended up falling on her backside into the dirt.  Gasping her fear away, she looked around for the voice. Zeus looked unfazed, looking straight into thin air.  Well, almost thin air. If Thalia focused hard enough, she could see the faintest outline of a person, shimmering like the palest of shadows. 

“Hanpa,” Zeus said, confirming Thalia’s suspicions. He didn’t sound worried that Hanpa had overheard any of their conversation, and continued walking, Thalia nervously following. She kept her eyes focused on Hanpa’s outline, trying to keep in her line of sight. 

“This is the daughter you spoke of?” Hanpa rasped, his voice more like a quiet whisper carried in the wind than an actual tone. 

Zeus nodded shortly. “Yes.” 

“And the son?”

“Dead.” 

Thalia swallowed. 

“Good. He would have become more trouble than he was worth,” Hanpa rasped, and Thalia heard a strange brightness to his tone, and although she couldn’t see his face, she would bet all her money that he was smiling as he said it. 

The shadowy figure of Hanpa turned to Thalia then, cocking his head and approaching. Deep in her gut, Thalia couldn’t help but feel the cold ice of fear plunging its way into her stomach. She wanted to do nothing more than to cringe back or drive her knife into the heart of this… thing. Even if she hadn’t known by now that Hanpa was the god of evil, she definitely would have been able to guess by now. 

“Yes,” Hanpa rasped. “Pazuzu was with you tonight, was he not? ” He turned to Zeus. “Another thing we have in common - insolent sons.” 

Zeus continued walking, Hanpa matching his long stride with his strange, ghost-like movements. Thalia scrambled to keep up as they approached a rising hill with a broken ruin at its peak. She recognized it. “The Hanging Gardens of Babylon,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

“Yes,” Zeus said, his voice dulled by how far ahead of her he was. “At least, that’s the name the mortals gave it.”

Thalia kept her eyes on the ruin as her feet stumbled over rocks and plants, breathing in and out as evenly as she could. Hanpa’s shape flickered in and out of her vision, periodically moving ahead or slowing down. Zeus’ pace, on the other hand, was steady. "Why does he look like that?" she asked quietly. "Like he's not even here?"

Hanpa's figure turned towards her, even though she'd asked the question quietly that he shouldn't have heard, at least not with human ears. "My brethren were tricky, child," he rasped, approaching her even as she felt her muscles tense in nervousness. "My name was stricken from all records, except one. For so long, my name, my history has been forgotten by humanity, no belief in my existence." He gestured to himself in disdain. "Belief is power, child. No belief, no power. I am merely a spirit until the belief -the fear of my name returns." 

"But..." Thalia swallowed around her tongue, trying not to let her voice shake. "If you had the Tablet, why didn't you give yourself a corporeal body? And..." she looked over at Zeus, daring to ask the question that had plagued them since this all started, "why are you also mortal? Couldn't the Tablet have kept your divinity while taking that of all the gods?"

Hanpa's laugh raised goose bumps on her arms. "A clever one, to ask the right questions." 

"The Tablet has but one limitation," Zeus said, his eyes still fixed ahead of them. "And that is it's beauty. Long ago, when there was only one pantheon, belief was so concentrated in all the gods that each contained power unlike you've ever seen, could do feats beyond imagination. But as time went on, and belief dwindled and that power of the gods grew diluted, the gods have grown weaker and weaker. The power of the Tablet is the source of belief itself, it is the force of Destiny, connected to the livelihoods of the pantheons. So as the gods grew weaker, the Tablet became so as well." 

Thalia's head spun as they approached the base of the stony hill they'd been heading to. 

"When we used the Tablet the first time, it wasn't just to turn the gods mortal," Zeus explained. "The Tablet can rewrite Destiny, can change how gods are gods." 

"Gods are powered by belief," Thalia tried to piece it together. "So by using the Tablet to turn them mortal, you... you released the belief that was powering them and sent it back to the Tablet." 

"In a sense, yes," Zeus nodded. "I couldn't exclude myself, else that much concentrated power might have ripped me apart, even in my divine form. The Tablet is now concentrated with the power of every single god of all the pantheons." 

"And," Thalia panted, climbing the hill as her head spun with all the new information. "And the Egyptians?"

"Powerless as well," he nodded. "They have been stripped as well, but their exile has them bound beneath the Mist, in the Duat. They will not trouble us, and their magicians are scattered. We will deal with them when we retake the Tablet." 

She didn't say anything else, her other questions evaporating from her mind as she climbed the hill and tried not to fall behind, the emotions and events of the day finally catching up to her as Zeus climbed further and further away from her up the hill. 

She almost missed the first monster as it approached her. She almost thought it was a centaur, at first, but this thing was nothing like Chiron. Instead of a horse’s lower body, this creature had the rear of what might have been a bull, slick black hair covering mountains of muscles.  The torso that sprouted out of where the bull’s head would be wasn’t completely human, either. It was too hairy, too muscular and broad to be natural. Her eyes traveled up to the thing’s face, that of a man, that wasn’t nearly human enough, with a jaw that was too wide and eyes that were too small and a nose that looked more like a snout. And on either side of his head were two large, curved horns. 

She resisted the urge to draw an arrow, knowing she’d blow her cover if she tried to kill the thing. But the thing’s beady eyes followed her as she walked past, a companion with the same structure but different features trotting up to do the same - stare. 

Every single other monster she passed - and there were many - did the same as she trailed behind her father. Some, at least those with faces, even smiled cruelly at her. Bull-human hybrids, as well as the dog mutants and storm lions and scorpion monsters that had attacked her at both Camp Half-Blood and in New Rome. 

She felt her heartbeat hasten, as if it wasn’t jackrabbiting before. 

Tearing her eyes away from the monsters surrounding her, she hurried ahead and pulled her eyes up towards the ruins… that weren’t ruins anymore. Her mouth fell open as she looked up at the temple that topped the hill. Even in the dark, it was a gleaming white. 

But it wasn’t as beautiful as she hoped. What must have been once fresh green trees and plants were now cracked and leafless, and the fountains that must have held water were dry. The white marble was dirty and did not gleam, and the doors at the front were gold, but dark and dirty too. 

She followed Zeus up a large set of white marble stairs, cracked and dirty beneath her feet. This must be the base camp of Zeus and Hanpa’s army. Well, Hanpa’s army. Zeus doesn’t have an army, technically speaking. As far as Thalia knew, none of the Greco-Roman forces had abandoned Apollo to fight for Zeus instead.

The thought of Apollo, the vivid image of his limp body struck her mind like lightning. She raised her eyes again and saw Zeus waiting for her in the open doors, giant and tarnished. She’d never wanted somebody dead more. Hurrying up the stairs and c rossing through the doors into the open-air courtyard, she looked around her for any other signs of the monsters that had ringed the hill below. There were none. She and Zeus were alone, even Hanpa’s shadow was gone.  Zeus didn’t stop as the tarnished gold doors thunk closed behind them, crossing over to the other side of the courtyard to another set of doors, these ones just as dirty, and, pushing them open, revealing the real Garden of the gods. 

It was a beautiful, sprawling thing. Not unlike Mount Olympus in most regards, but with different architecture and statues. And completely abandoned. She passed towering buildings with dark windows and empty squares, looking into quiet buildings with dust gathering on their surfaces. She walked behind Zeus up to the main temple and followed him into the throne room. 

The Mesopotamian gods were gone. And this was what they left behind - emptiness. And the man responsible had heading into the room and was now watching her, sitting on a dusty throne that was not his. 

She could see the big picture now. Walking through the enemy camp should have been her first clue. Zeus had no allies here, not really. Hanpa was the closest he had, and, as he’d said before, Zeus didn’t trust him. Zeus needed allies he could trust. Therefore, Thalia. His mission into E-abzu was as much one to kill Apollo as it was to recruit her. 

“You understand what it is that I want you here for?” Zeus asked, low and rumbling. 

“Yes,” she nodded. He wanted her to be his lieutenant, the same as she was for his other daughter. 

“And what do you have to say?”

She approached, and knelt. “I swear my life to your service, Father,” she vowed. “To do whatever you ask of me and serve your purpose as if it were my own.” It was all a lie. But Zeus was none the wiser. 

Zeus nodded. “Good. Go rest.” He waved a hand, and she stood, turned, and left.  The empty city was too eerie to be in, so Thalia headed back to the courtyard she’d entered from. A happy medium between the abandoned Garden and the monster-packed hill below.  She wandered around the courtyard house aimlessly, the gateway to the Garden still open, a quiet and dark hill of buildings.  She wasn’t going to be able to rest, she knew it. But there were indeed several bedrolls and provisions available for her. Who knows where they came from, but she wasn’t complaining. 

The courtyard had several hallways branching off from it, those she slowly explored as the darkness of night deepened further.  She’d thought she’d be alone. But that didn’t explain why she started hearing voices. Thinking she might have been going insane, she followed them. 

Peeking into a room not far off the main hallway, she felt her stomach plummet to her knees. There were indeed more people here. People in cages. The voices stopped as the people in the cages saw her. Timidly, Thalia approached. 

There were three of them. Curiously, they were all adults. She was normally so used to being surrounded by people who looked her age or younger. But no, these three all looked middle-aged: a blonde woman with round curls that hadn’t been cared for in a while, a man with dark red hair and very muscular arms, and another woman in the far cage, Black, with her hair tumbling down her shoulders in braids. 

“Who are you?” the blonde woman asked sharply, looking up immediately. The cage wasn’t large enough for her to stand. 

“Oh, my gods. Why are you in cages?” Thalia blurted out.

“Zeus put us here, why do you think?” the other woman asked. 

Letting them out would blow her cover, but Thalia searched for a way to let them out regardless. Each of the cages had a celestial bronze padlock on them with no keyhole. 

So many questions were running through Thalia’s mind. Turning the strange padlocks over in her hands, she grabbed her dagger and tried to pry them off, but to no avail. 

“It’s alright, child,” the blonde woman said, reaching out to put her hands on the bars of the cage. 

“No, it’s not. This isn’t right,” Thalia muttered, tossing the lock back into place with a frustrated sigh. “Doesn’t make sense.” She sighed, frustrated, feeling the eyes of the caged adults on her, all quiet. “Who are you?”

“He says he’s going to sacrifice us,” the man said quietly. There was something strange about his accent. Northern, maybe. Canadian?

Thalia started piecing things together. “Ritualistic sacrifice of three people who have known your enemy. That’s how to access the Tablet.”

The other woman in the far cage raised a confused eyebrow. “Yep. Makes total sense.” 

Thalia sat back on her haunches. The blonde woman shuffled closer inside her cage. “What’s your name, darling?” Southern accent, definitely. 

“Thalia,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to get you out.”

“That’s okay. Why are you here, Thalia?”

“I’m a spy,” Thalia admitted. “He’s my father, but… I’m not loyal to him. Not anymore. Not after what he’s done.” 

“And,” the man leaned forward. “What did he do? Sorry, that bit isn’t very clear.” 

“He wants to commit genocide, kill everyone on this earth to start a new age of mankind. He turned all the gods mortal, and… and he just murdered his own son.” It shook her more than she wanted to admit to say that last part out loud. But it was true, probably. Zeus wouldn’t have let that particular job be left only halfway done. 

The adults all turned sharply to look at her. “Which son?” the man asked. 

“Apollo.” 

The woman in the far cage sagged, tipping her head back against the wall. The man dropped his head down to his chest, and the blonde woman squeezed her eyes shut. Upset as she was, Thalia was growing more confused by the second. 

“Did you know him?” Of course they did, they wouldn’t be in these cages if they didn’t. 

“Biblically,” the blonde woman said, her voice strained. The man let out a pained sound, kind of like a laugh but not nearly happy enough. 

Thalia looked at them more thoroughly, one at a time. She hadn’t realized it before, but there was something familiar about them. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on. And the blonde woman… Well, Thalia was growing increasingly more convinced that she’d seen her face somewhere . 

She was about to open her mouth to ask for their names when she heard movement coming from outside. She stood quickly, her hands reaching for her bow and quiver, but before she could leave the little room to go search it out, the sound of the front door banging open reached her ears. 

The sound of screaming monsters was cut off as the doors were slammed shut again. 

“Guess we were right. There’s wards up here. Monsters can’t get in.” Thalia knew that voice. 

“Will?” she yelled down the hallway. 

“Will’s here? What’s Will doing here?” the blonde woman asked sharply. 

“Mom?” Will called from up the hallway. “Mom, are you here?”

“Dad!” another voice chimed in. Kayla. 

“Oh, my gods,” Thalia smacked herself on the forehead, everything suddenly clicking into place, her frazzled brain finally kicking into gear. “Oh, shit. Shit! You’re their parents. With Apollo!” She stuck her head down the hallway. “Down here!” 

“Thalia?” someone called. She stepped into the hallway as Will, Kayla, Austin, and Nico all came jogging around the corner. “Thalia, what are you doing here?”

“Long story. They’re in here,” she beckoned them. “What are you doing here?”

“Long story,” Austin squeezed her shoulder as they all filed into the room. “Mom!” The family resemblances were obvious, once Thalia thought about it. 

Nico approached the cages once Will had observed the padlock on his mother’s cage and tugged at it uselessly. He raised his Stygian iron sword and broke the padlock cleanly off Will’s mom’s cage, then did the same for Kayla’s dad and Austin’s mom. 

Naomi (that was her name, wasn’t it? Thalia couldn’t remember now) hugged Will as soon as she could stand, looking a little shaky but squeezing her son tightly. “Your father,” she said quietly. “Apollo. Is it true? He’s dead?”

Will’s eyes bugged out of his head. “What?”

Naomi glanced at Thalia. “That’s what-”

“Nope!” Nico said loudly as Kayla and Austin both yelped as well. “Nope! Not dead!”

“Are you sure?” Thalia eyed him. “Because I saw it, I’m pretty sure-”

“You’re going to question me on whether or not somebody’s dead?” Nico snarked towards her. “No. Apollo is not dead. I would know. He might have gotten close, but Zeus didn’t finish the job.” 

Thalia breathed a sigh of relief for the first time all night. “Okay. That’s good.” 

“Come on,” Nico beckoned them all closer. “We have to go.” 

But Thalia hovered back. Will’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not coming?”

“He doesn't suspect me at all,” Thalia shook her head. “I’m in a good position to get more information. I’ll find a way to contact you. Go!” 

“Be careful!” Nico called out, hearing the monsters outside and Thalia nodded him along. 

“Go!” And with a pulse of darkness, they were gone, and Thalia was alone. Panting, she headed back down the hallway and barged back through the doors to the Garden. Thinking quickly as she ran, she pulled out a knife and gave herself a quick cut on her cheek to make the story of an attack more viable. There, she thought. That should fool him.  

“Father!” she called as she reached the throne room again, Zeus looking up as she crossed the threshold and knelt. “Your prisoners are gone.” 

“Who took them?” Zeus growled, standing up. 

“I could not tell,” she shook her head. “They were hooded. I tried to fight them off, but I was outnumbered. I’m sorry, father. They disappeared with three adult prisoners.” 

Zeus scowled. “Apollo had been recruiting magicians,” he grunted as he stood. “The Egyptians.”

“Yes,” Thalia seized the opportunity, but cringed to herself, hoping the Egyptians had the firepower to hold back against the army outside the Garden. “It’s possible. They had magic I did not recognize,” she lied. 

“You have done well to tell me this, daughter,” Zeus said proudly, and Thalia’s stomach filled with a sick rage. “We will have our victory. I swear to you.” 

And I swear to you, Thalia vowed to herself, over my dead body. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Apollo was aware of as he regained consciousness was the pain. Everything hurt, deep in his muscles, and tingling on the upper layer of his skin, like bolts of electricity. 

“Ow.” 

“Nice. God of poetry, you are.” 

Apollo cracked open an eye. He knew that voice. Who else could it be? Despite the pain and a strange stinging in his cheek, he smiled. “Meg.” 

She was still dressed like a traffic light, he noticed as he turned his head to the side to see her sitting in a plush chair next to his bedside. Her chunky sweater was chock-full of neon colors, her light-washed jeans embroidered with multicolored flowers that should have clashed, but didn’t. 

The cat-eye glasses with rhinestones she’d worn before were gone, replaced by big round wire ones. Harry Potter, but chic. Her hair was still short and choppy with blunt bangs, but nicely tousled. 17 years old now, she’d lost some of the baby fat in her cheeks, but there was something so pure and unadulterated about her that Apollo knew he would recognize her even if she’d been an old woman. 

He sat up slowly, wincing as every part of his body screamed in protest, like every single muscle in his body had been pushed to its limit and was now sore beyond words. Meg reached out a hand but paused, like she wasn’t sure if she should push him back down or help him sit up. “What are you doing?”

He sat up all the way, panting at the surprising amount of effort it took, then extended an open arm towards her. “C’mere. You look like a highlighter, by the way.” 

She snorted and moved like she was about to shove him, but clearly thought twice about it. She moved off her chair, onto the side of the bed, and instead of hugging him back, kind of just leaned into his chest and pressed her head onto his shoulder. 

“How have you been?” he asked earnestly, squeezing her as tightly as his exhausted muscles could bear. “Have you been here… the whole time?” Assuming he was in Aeithales, what with the way the room looked like it was carved out of a living tree - the walls looked like one big trunk all around them, vines crawling the walls and sunlight streaming in through a veil of willow leaves. 

Meg’s expression was twisted into one of convoluted emotion as she pulled back and tucked her knees up close to her, her bright green high-top shoes almost blinding him. “I’ve been here, mostly,” she murmured quietly. “Waiting,” she said, even quieter. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. 

“It’s okay,” she shook her head. “I get it. But… what happened? Where were you ?”

“House arrest,” he huffed, halfway to a laugh but wincing as it hurt more than he had expected. “I’ve been on Olympus.” 

“Alone?”

Apollo didn’t answer immediately, but the look on his face must have given him away. “No,” he admitted. “Demarus was with me… have- where is he?”

“He’s here, he’s fine,” Meg nodded quickly. “He brought you here with that woman and… that other guy.” 

“Cyrene,” Apollo supplied. “She’s an ex. And a friend. We had a couple kids together. And that other guy is Pazuzu.” He explained the whole business to her, but paused for just a moment. “Where’s Thalia?”

Meg’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly avoiding the question. “I didn’t see her.” 

“How long have I been here?” Apollo frowned, feeling the panic rising as his situation fully took hold. 

“A couple days, you’ve been- hey, don’t do that you’ll hurt yourself!” Meg started, then hurried around the bed as he threw the covers back, tried to stand up, and immediately sat back down again, his head spinning and spots filling his vision. “You’ve been out of it,” she huffed angrily. “I made Demarus tell me what happened.”

“What did happen?” Apollo pressed, trying to make his vision stop spotting. “I don’t remember anything except…” He remembered going into the E-Abzu in search of the entrance to the Garden of the gods, being sucked into that cavernous pit… and then Zeus. He remembered pain, that lightning filling his veins like fire, and making that vow: ‘I’ll kill you myself’.  

And he’d meant it. Just as much as he did now, that sick anger filling his stomach and souring his heart. 

“Demarus said Zeus disappeared with Thalia,” Meg admitted, her voice hard and unforgiving. “He said she went with him. Willingly. And that shadow-thing-”

“Hanpa, probably,” Apollo supplied, remembering vaguely the feeling of another presence in the room, a cold, rotting presence made of shadow. 

“Took them. Demarus said the, uh, wing guy shadow-traveled them out after Zeus left and then they brought you here since it was close and you were, well… hurt,” Meg finished, her eyes dropping to her knees with the embroidered flowers and picking at them. “Apollo-”

“Thalia wouldn’t betray us,” Apollo said firmly, not even allowing that idea to be spoken into existence. “She probably just saw an opportunity to get more information and took it. She’ll find her way back to us, or we’ll find Zeus first.” He leaned back against the pillows and tried to breathe through the growing cramp in his stomach. “And he won’t hurt her- if he wants to rebuild the Olympus of old, he needs a lieutenant. He’ll start with her. And,” he scoffed, "he doesn't know any better. He doesn't know her well, not like we do. She'd rather die than betray my sister and the Hunters."

Meg didn’t answer, just continued staring at the denim of her pants. 

“Tell me how you’ve been,” Apollo pleaded, reaching his hand out and taking hers gently in his. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here.” He smiled weakly. “Have you kept up with your piano?”

That, finally, cracked a smile out of her. “No,” she admitted, but with a rueful smile. “It wasn’t as much fun…”

“Without me?” Apollo grinned widely at her. “C’mon, you can admit it.” 

She looked like she wanted to punch him in the shoulder, but refrained, taking his injured state into consideration. She opened her mouth to come up with some other (probably lame) excuse as to why she hadn’t kept up practicing the piano after Apollo had begun their lessons before he was subject to house arrest, but she’s interrupted as the door swings open.

“You’re awake!” 

Apollo sat up, grinning as Luguselwa elbowed her way into the room. “Hi, Lu!” 

She’s careful with him as she leans down and hugs him tightly. “We missed you.” He could only smile up at her as she stepped back and observed him, her face quickly morphing into a frown. “You had us worried.”  

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. 

“Don’t apologize,” she waved a hand as if brushing off an irksome fly. “We knew you would be in touch if you could. I’m talking about Demarus showing up on our doorstep with you half-dead.” 

“Your heart stopped,” Meg whispered. “At least, that’s what the... the guy with the wings said.” She scoffed. "All that trouble we went to and you're mortal again. What do I bother for?"

“Pazuzu,” Apollo corrected her gently, then winced. “Yeah, uh… that- Sorry, I guess.” 

“We’re just glad you’re okay.” Lu nodded down at him. “Do you want something to eat? I’m sure I can find something. The others are all downstairs, they’ll be glad to know you’re awake.”

“We’ll come down in a minute, Lu,” Meg nodded. “Thanks.” 

Lu closed the door behind her with a soft snap and Apollo turned back to Meg. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I will be,” Meg said firmly. “Come on.” 

She helped him change clothes into a pair of jeans and a soft crew-neck sweatshirt with a picture of a band on the front. “You know U2?”

“Who?” Meg frowned. 

Apollo snickered. “Never mind.”

Getting down the stairs is the hardest part, and Apollo had to carefully place each foot for fear of falling, keeping his balance with one hand on the railing and the other around Meg’s shoulders. 

“You look different,” she said instead of poking fun at how difficult this was, for which he was grateful. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said through gritted teeth as his legs threatened to give out from under him. “Kind of unintentional. I wasn’t paying too much attention to my physical appearance when I was on Olympus, and so this is how I got stuck when Hanpa turned all the gods mortal.” 

Meg observed him for a little longer, her grip around his waist tightening as his knees nearly buckled as they reached the first landing of the long staircase. “I like it.” 

He smiled down at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It… feels very you . Kind of like Lester, but not. All the good parts.” 

“Well,” he huffed a laugh. “Lester kind of grew on me.” 

She just smiled as they heard the first sounds of voices from the dining room. “Same.” 

They reached the dining room at a shuffle, and the sounds of greeting rose immediately as they entered the room. “There he is!” 

Demarus and Cyrene both instantly rose and pulled out a chair (glaring at each other as they trampled over each other in their haste). “You should have told us you were coming down, we could have helped you,” Cyrene huffed as she helped Apollo sit. 

“I did just fine,” Meg huffed, plopping herself into the seat next to Apollo. Cassius, Meg’s adoptive brother, frowned at her as his seat was taken, but didn’t protest as he moved down a spot. 

“My knights in shining armor,” Apollo grinned, tapping Demarus on the cheek lightly in thanks (and ignoring the abashed expression that took over Demarus’ face as he turned to go back to his own seat). 

He looked around the large table, one that looked like it was grown rather than carved. The wood was rough, but left no splinters as he ran his hand along the top. It looked like it might even be able to grow to accommodate more people, considering how many sat around it now: Apollo’s party of Cyrene, Demarus, and Pazuzu (who looked very out of place but was attacking his plate of tacos with gusto), as well as Aeithales’ residents: Meg’s siblings, Herophile, who gave Apollo a friendly wave from a few seats down, and some of the nymphs. 

Aloe Vera immediately started fussing over him. “How are you feeling?” she simpered. “You just let me know if you need any aloe goo. I put some on while you were sleeping, but I don’t know if…” her gaze was sympathetic as she clasped his hand in hers and her voice wavered, “if this is the kind of pain I can help with.” 

He wasn’t sure if she meant the double meaning there, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.” 

Lu observed him fondly from the head of the table, quietly instructing one of Meg’s younger siblings to fill his cup, and the conversation rose again. Meg was quiet next to him, picking at the food on her plate, but at seeing his concerned gaze flick to her every so often, picked up her fork and shot him a ‘what are you looking at’ kind of glare. 

Demarus, seated next to him, shuffled in his chair. “How are you feeling?” Cyrene immediately leaned forward to listen, too. 

“Fine,” Apollo shrugged, selecting some of the lighter food off the assortments of platters on the table - the thought of eating a full meal made him feel quite nauseous, which was not a feeling he enjoyed at all. “Sore.” He huffed in annoyance. “My legs don’t work.” That, and he’s sporting a pretty deep gash on his cheek from where Zeus had nicked him with a knife during their altercation, but it had been patched up well enough.

That seemed to abate some of Demarus’ concerns, and Cyrene went back to her food, satisfied at the very least that his heart wasn't going to stop again. “Your heart is weak,” Demarus explained, then caught Apollo’s raised eyebrow. “That’s not what I meant- I mean… what Zeus did to you, it disrupted your normal heart rhythms, and your body is still feeling some of the after-effects.” 

Apollo just smiled. “Yes, I know. God of healing, remember?”

“God of remembrance. Yes, I remember.” 

“Ha-ha.” Apollo turned his direction back to the table, where it sounded like Cyrene was regaling everyone at the table with one of the stories about Aristaeus, their son, having lost his bees. 

“He loses them all the time,” she rolled her eyes. “Right?” she asked, leaning down the table to catch Apollo’s eye. 

“All the time,” he repeated with a smile. “Couldn’t possibly be an inherited trait.”

Cyrene’s mouth twisted slightly. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” 

“Funny,” he rolled his eyes. 

After the meal finished, Lu having explicitly forbidden Apollo, Cyrene, and Demarus from helping clean up, they went to sit on the porch outside. Despite it being winter, the fluffy blanket Meg had laid over him did wonders against the cold, the steaming cup of tea in his hands doing more to warm him. 

“So,” he said quietly, sipping his tea. “Time to talk about the elephant in the room.” Cyrene and Demarus stiffened next to each other, looking between themselves and Pazuzu, then guiltily looking up at Apollo and Meg. “Thalia.” 

“Yeah,” Demarus nodded. “Um-”

“She wouldn’t betray us,” Apollo said firmly, repeating what he’d told Meg earlier. “For all we know, she shot an arrow through Zeus’ head the second she got the chance.” 

Cyrene looked like she wanted to argue, but smartly held her tongue. She looked over at Meg. “What do you think? I can’t say I know her very well, I don’t know-”

“She wouldn’t,” Meg shook her head. 

Cyrene held her gaze for a little longer, then nodded. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t torture information out of her. What if she tells him where everyone is headed? As far as I know, the Waystation’s defenses are strong, but not strong enough to hold against a whole invasion of Hanpa’s forces.” 

Apollo frowned. He hadn’t thought about that. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said. “For now, we need to come up with a plan.” He sagged back in the seat. “I only wish there was a way to contact the others. I don’t know how Piper and Annabeth did it, but with Iris mortal, we can’t IM anybody. If only we could get to the Waystation, I-”

“You shouldn’t travel yet,” Demarus interjected. 

“I’m not sure we have much of a choice,” Apollo frowned. “Not with how long it’s going to take to get from here to the Waystation.” He looked at Demarus sympathetically. “I’ll be fine. Worse comes to worst, you can drive.” 

“I can drive, too,” Meg raised her hand. 

“No!” 

Chapter Text

“Is this our thing now?” Apollo asked into the darkness, the car rumbling beneath him as the other occupants of the van slumbered in the backseats. “Cross-country road trips?”

Demarus scoffed softly, his hands resting low on the wheel (he had absolutely refused to let Apollo drive in his ‘fragile’ state). “I guess so. Second one in less than a week.” 

“At least it’s not on horseback,” Apollo grinned. The sun horses had been packed up with the unicorns at Camp Jupiter and had been sent ahead to the Waystation after Zeus and Hanpa’s forces had attacked. He’d be worried, but those horses were older than him. They’d be fine, and they deserved some rest after taking him and Demarus all the way across the country. 

“I don’t think my hips have recovered yet,” Demarus smiled, his voice soft as he checked the rearview mirror. Meg, Cyrene, Pazuzu, Lu, and Meg’s siblings were all cramped into the large passenger van, heads on each other’s shoulders and snoring softly. 

It was the middle of the night - after giving Apollo a few more days of bedrest and making sure he could walk on his own, they had left Aeithales the morning before and hoped to reach the Waystation within the hour. 

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Apollo said quietly. “Pazuzu said that Zeus and Hanpa already had access to the Tablet, that was how they turned us all mortal.” Demarus nodded along. “So that means that they must have gone through the sacrifices to get past Enki’s wards. The only thing is…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, roughly combing it down with his fingers. “Who were the sacrifices?”

Demarus was silent, lips pursed as he gently steered the car in the direction of the rising sun. “It’s difficult to know,” he said at last, but Apollo could tell he was holding something back. “Whoever they were, Zeus must have taken and killed them before you were turned mortal, so that rules out everyone who died during and after the attack on Camp Half-Blood.” 

Gracie, or Jerry, or any of the others they built pyres for together. Apollo didn’t know what to say to that, his stomach sinking then lightening at least at the knowledge that Gracie and Jerry’s souls weren’t being desecrated for Zeus’ abominable plans. 

“Still,” Demarus continued, “it raises the question of who’s next.” 

“What do you mean?”

Demarus shrugged. “Well, if Zeus wants to access the Tablet again, probably to turn himself back into a god and to stab Hanpa in the back-”

“Or vice versa,” Apollo added. 

“Yes,” Demarus acquiesced. “Or that. But Zeus will continue looking for it. I wonder if you’d be able to use the three sacrifices a second time, or if you’d need to sacrifice three new souls. If it’s the former,” he scoffed, “we’ve already lost. But if it’s the latter, we have the chance to find who Zeus is looking for, and protect them.” 

“And also find three souls for us to sacrifice to get past Enki’s wards,” Apollo added sourly. He didn’t particularly like the idea, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice 

Demarus was quiet for a bit longer. “What are you not saying?” Apollo pressed, knowing Demarus was still holding something back from him. 

Demarus swallowed, his eyebrows knitting together. “Zeus… Zeus hates you.” 

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Yes… But what does that have to do with-”

“He wouldn’t pick just anyone to sacrifice to Enki’s wards,” Demarus clarified. “He would pick people he knew would hurt you the most. Three souls of people who have known your enemy… he would pick souls you would miss dearly.” 

Apollo’s world came crashing down with such a subtle gust of air. It was like someone had driven a stake through his heart as he realized what Demarus was implying. “You think…” He could hear his own voice trembling. 

“It’s possible,” Demarus said quietly, his hands tightening on the wheel, no longer relaxed. Apollo realized then, that Demarus must have suspected this since Pazuzu had explained the wards to them the first time and had chosen to spare him from the pain of the same realization until now. 

And pain it was, choking him, cutting off his air and clawing at the inside of his ribs like iron swords. “My unclaimed children… you think those were his sacrifices?”

Apollo had grieved them all, the unclaimed children that never made it to camp. The ones that had died before they could even be found by satyr protectors. The ones… the existence of whom Demarus himself had reported to Zeus.

“I’m so sorry-” Demarus started, knowing that was where Apollo’s mind must have gone. 

“Pull over,” Apollo said, forgetting about the slumber of the others in the car. 

“What?” 

“Pull over!” 

With a rumbling jerk, Demarus pulled the wheel and the car skidded off to the side of the road. Apollo had jumped out before it even came to a complete stop, ignoring Meg’s bleary questioning sound. 

“Apollo-” Demarus said, having gotten out of the car and ran around the front to chase after Apollo, who had trudged into the grass at the side of the road and sunk to his knees. “I’m sorry-”

“Dont!” Apollo moaned, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, feeling an icy ball pressing behind his sternum. “Don’t- I don’t want to hear it, not from you.” 

He knew it wasn’t fair to blame Demarus, but the angry side of him, the side that made him a father , was filled with the rage of a thousand suns. Truly, it wasn’t Demarus’ fault. But all the years of grieving his children, the ones who hadn’t gotten a chance at life, now knowing that they died at Zeus’ hand to advance his heinous plans – it was too much. 

Demarus kept his distance, for which Apollo was glad as he dug his fingers into the tall grass and tried to breathe around the stone in his throat. 

“Apollo?” Meg said quietly, her feet crunching in the dried leaves at the side of the road, Cyrene by her side. Apollo looked up, past her and saw that Demarus had retreated back to the van, his head bowed through the window. “What is it?”

He didn't answer for a moment, hurriedly wiping his cheeks as he turned to sit in the grass and felt the cold night air rush against his face as the two of them sat next to him on either side, felt their warmth even if it was just a phantom. “When I was in captivity… Demarus was there. He’s a god of scribing and history, so his thing is, like, to keep record of everything he sees. He can’t help it, but Zeus used him to spy on me. When I was in the Sun Palace… I would watch my children, make sure they were safe.” 

His fingers dug into the grass by his sides, closing his eyes and trying to swallow down the ball in his throat even as tears threatened to spill over his cheeks again. Meg’s hand found his, and squeezed tightly. Neither she nor Cyrene interrupted.

“I had five unclaimed children, at the time. I would watch them, from time to time, but… sometimes I slipped up. Demarus saw me watching them, so Zeus found out they existed. And… all but one of them died.” 

Meg’s face was twisted, even as her mouth stayed tightly shut. Cyrene took his other hand in hers, and her thumb rubbed against the skin on the back of his hand, a small comfort and all she could do. 

“But,” he said, hearing his own voice grow harder, “what I realized was that Zeus had used them, at least three of them to get past Enki’s wards that protect the Tablet of Destinies.” The anger and sadness inside him congealed and formed a sick, sliding thing that filled his stomach and made him tremble in his rage. “They were his sacrifices. My children.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Cyrene murmured, gently tucking a stray strand of his hair away from his face and cupping his cheek. “They deserved better.” She looped her arms around him and pulled him close, and Meg leaned against his back so he was pressed between the two, enclosed and safe to let his protective barriers fall in the weight of grief. He felt himself collapse into their embrace, letting the tears spill over. 

“I’m going to kill him,” he vowed. “I’ve given him so many chances to fix himself, but… I can’t do it anymore. And if I’m just perpetrating the same cycle…” he swallowed. “Then fine. I’ll do it to protect the people I love.”

“You’re different,” Meg protested, shuffling around so she could look him in the eye. “Kill him, you do that. But it’s not the same cycle, not really. You’re not going to kill him for his throne, right?”

Apollo shook his head. “No. Definitely not. As soon as this is over, I’m not going to be king anymore. I won’t do it. But patricide… that’s unforgivable. To take the same actions my father did, and his father before him…” 

Cyrene pulled back to look him in the eye. Apollo took the moment to examine her face closely, the exact same face he’d known for millennia. Her gaze was hard as she balled her hand into a fist and pressed it over his heart. “You are different,” she said firmly, but kindly. “Zeus and Kronos each killed their fathers out of selfish ambition. But you… it’s out of love. Your love saves you. It saves us all.” 

It was hard to believe her. But Apollo nodded and smiled to let her know she’d been heard. “Come on,” she said, standing and helping him to his feet, weak as he still felt at times. “We’re almost to the Waystation.” 

Back in the passenger seat with a slight grunt of pain, Apollo looked up at Demarus guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Demarus looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded his head. He was silent for a moment, shifting the car back into drive as the other occupants in the car all rise to wakefulness. “I wish… I wish it had never happened. I wish I could forget it all.”

“We can. Tabula rasa,” Apollo said softly. “Blank slate.” 

“There is no such thing, not for me,” Demarus said. “History is history, it does not forget.” 

Apollo wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, but Demarus’ face had cleared of it’s shadowy cover, so it was maybe the best he could hope for. “How much further?”

“Not long. Half an hour, probably.” 

They descended into awkward silence, as Apollo carefully resumed fletching more arrows and steadily refilling his quiver. The mindless work took his thoughts away from the shock of realizing Zeus’ plans. With each arrow, he felt himself grow calmer, more balanced. By the time they entered the city in the early morning when the sun was just rising, he felt much more steady than he had even before they’d left Aeithales. 

Even in the early of the morning, Demarus slowed the van to match the steady trudge of the city’s traffic, Apollo quietly directing him towards one of the emptier lanes. Soon enough, they could see the Waystation at the south end of a large plaza from their vantage point up on an exit ramp, and Apollo felt a surge of relief in knowing that the journey was almost over. 

“Looks like they’ve already set up defenses,” Cyrene commented as it disappeared for a brief moment. Sure enough, as it reappeared in Apollo’s vision dead ahead, he could see a high fence surrounding the whole building, shimmering in the light - Celestial bronze, meant to keep out monsters, on top of which several enclosed towers sat, archers stationed on each. 

“Britomartis must have set that up,” Meg said, and Apollo nodded. Fences, nets, what was the difference? He would know her handiwork anywhere. Nothing would be able to get in. 

But even as he prepared for Demarus to take the large, empty road that led straight towards it, he knew something was wrong. Demarus’ eyes were fixed in the rearview mirror, and it barely took Apollo a glance to know what was wrong. 

A massive 18-wheeler truck was barreling towards them down the empty stretch of road, and Apollo felt his stomach drop. At the front of the truck was a fortified front bumper that gleamed bronze, set with heavy spikes. And dead, about a mile down the abandoned road ahead was the Waystation. The truck was a battering ram, and it was going to plow straight through the defenses. 

“Speed up!” he ordered quickly, thinking fast. They wouldn’t be able to knock the truck off course, not with the size difference between them and their dinky van. The only option was to stop the truck before it could hit the Waystation, or worse. 

With fumbling fingers, he unbuckled himself and opened the sunroof. “What in the Fates’ names do you think you’re doing?” Cyrene snapped, leaning forward from her seat behind him and making a grasp for his ankle as he crouched on top of his seat and readied his bow and quiver. 

“Taking the truck,” he said quickly, and stuck his head up through the sunroof, hiking his legs up so he was sitting on the roof of the van and bracing his feet against the seat back as he surveyed the truck through its front window. 

Driving the truck was, surprisingly enough, a human. But Apollo knew, deep in his gut, that this was no human. Whoever it was, it looked like a man sporting a long curly beard, his face breaking out into a smile as he surveyed Apollo nock an arrow. 

“You can’t shoot him, you’ll knock the truck into a building. You could kill mortals!” Demarus yelled up through the sunroof. "The front might be Celestial Bronze, but the truck isn't!"

“I know,” Apollo said over the rushing of the wind, his hair escaping from the low tail he’d tied it into and fluttering in his face. He looked back at the Waystation. It was approaching much too quickly. “Get closer!”

If Demarus was planning on arguing, he quickly tamped it down and steered the van so it was almost side-by-side with the truck. Apollo tucked his feet under him, and with as much strength as he could gather in his weakened state, leapt on top of the truck. 

Of course, the monster driving the damn thing swerved it out of the way so his landing wasn’t nearly as solid as it could have been. He slipped and stumbled, one foot dropping off the side of the truck and nearly losing his bow in the process. But with a grunt, he pulled himself on top and panted in place for a moment. 

The Waystation was still approaching much too fast, the bronze fence suddenly looking much too delicate to hold this thing back. As quickly as he could, he regained his balance and hurried up towards the cabin, leaping down with as much caution as possible without falling off, and, with a short kick, broke through the glass of the cabin’s sunroof.

But, upon crouching down and sticking his head through, the humanoid monster was nowhere to be seen. Cursing, he jumped down and found the brakes, pressing down hard. 

But nothing happened. He tried a few more times, putting all his weight on the brake, but the monster must have cut the lines before abandoning the truck. “Well-” he scoffed, then waved a hand out the window to signal to Demarus to move out of the way. Thankfully, Demarus caught the hint, and the van disappeared from the view in the side mirrors. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, bracing himself as he took the steering wheel in hand, watching as the fence around the Waystation grew closer by the second. And, with a twist of the wheel, it tilted out of view. 

He lost all sense of direction as the truck jerked to the right, and the cabin shuddered as it tilted, and with the screech of burning rubber and the heavy weight of the trailer scraping on the pavement, the window to Apollo’s left shattered as the truck fell on its side.

Apollo felt himself thrown in every direction, and with a particularly nasty thump, finally felt the truck slide to a stop. 

Groaning, he tried to untangle his limbs, his head throbbing. Everything was spinning, and his limbs still felt so weak… He tried to pull his bow free, but his fingers couldn’t seem to grasp it tight enough. 

He tried to fight off the darkness at the edge of his vision, he really did. But, slumping back into the crushed interior of the cabin and feeling the light breeze of the winter air on his face as the darkness clouded into his vision, he gave into the heavy weight of his eyelids.

Chapter Text

“Hey. You. Wake up.” 

Apollo blinked away the darkness of his vision as his body jerked back to awareness. “Wha-” He looked up to see someone directly to his side, poking a head through the shattered sunroof of the truck’s cabin. “Guh.” 

He ran a hand over his face, hoping there wasn’t any permanent damage. Besides the cut on his cheek he still sported from his altercation with Zeus, nothing else caused him pain. Every muscle in his body protested movement, but he didn’t think anything was broken. He shook his head as if clearing away flies, finally finding awareness to focus on the face near his own. “Oh. Clarisse la Rue.” 

Clarisse’s eyebrows furrowed. “You know me?”

Apollo snorted, trying to sit up and finally pulling his bow free from where it was wedged in the crumbled interior of the cabin. “I don’t live under a rock. Favorite daughter of Ares, drakon-slayer – good job with that one, by the way. Never did end up saying thanks.” 

“Uh,” Clarisse didn’t seem to know what to say to that. “You’re welcome, I guess. Who-”

Apollo wiggled his golden bow in her direction, and, for all her hereditary predispositions against intelligence as a child of Ares, she caught on fairly quickly. “Oh. Um, sorry, Lord Apollo-”

“Ugh,” he waved her down. “Don’t do that. Just- help me out, yeah?”

She nodded, and, grasping her thick hand around his forearm, helped him tumble out of the cabin of the truck. He swayed, one hand on the roof of the truck’s cabin as the world spun around him for a moment, but he found his footing well enough to look around him and gain a good assessment of his surroundings. 

The felled truck had landed maybe ten feet from the Celestial bronze fence. He had tipped it not a moment too soon. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Clarisse said gruffly as she watched him survey his surroundings. “Not sure how we would have stopped that from up there,” she said, gesturing to the archer’s posts on top of the fence. Apollo could feel them watching him, from the half-dozen stations he could see stationed along the southside of the fence. 

“Hey, Apollo!” one of the archers called down with a wave. 

He squinted up, unable to see through the dark of pre-dawn to the station about twenty feet above him. “Who’s that?”

“It’s Hunter Kowalski up there,” Clarisse said shortly. 

“Oh,” Apollo perked up. “Hi, Hunter!” He grinned in Clarisse’s direction. “A Hunter named Hunter. Funny, right?”

Clarisse looked like she didn’t want to find the joke funny, but her carefully constructed facial expression of apathy cracked just a little. “Yeah. Sure.” 

Footsteps behind them and the sound of slamming car doors alert them to the arrival of the others. “Are you alright?” Meg asked quickly, the first to reach them. 

“Yeah, fine,” Apollo waved her off, watching as Lu, Demarus, Cyrene, Pazuzu, and Meg’s siblings all exited the car as well, all thankfully unharmed. 

“Come on,” Clarisse said, moving to take them towards a door in the fence, but Apollo hung back. “What is it?”

“I just-” he muttered, looking back at the truck. “I think this was one of our supply trucks from Camp Jupiter. Which raises the question – where is the original driver?” He paced around the end of the truck, all the way to the back door of the trailer. With a grunt, he freed the latch and swung the giant door open with a clang. 

Sure enough, inside the trailer were hundreds of boxes of supplies, all with the purple seal of Camp Jupiter and, looking very dazed and confused, tied and gagged, were the crew of two Roman legionnaires. “Lavinia!” he gaped, pulling at her bindings and loosening them as quickly as he could. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were back here.” 

“Hey,” she said weakly, clamoring to her feet with all the grace of a baby deer. “Good-” she tripped, then straightened again. “Good to see you.” 

Meg made quick work of Lavinia’s comrade’s bindings, some tan boy Apollo didn’t know or recognize. His eyes widened, and then he dashed off. “He’s just a nervous kid,” Lavinia excused him as they watched him hurry through the open door in the Celestial bronze fence. 

Clarisse yelled a couple orders to some amassed legionnaires inside the fence to come clean out the truck of supplies. “Maybe the Hephaestus guys could use some of this,” she said with a frown at the wrecked engine of the truck once they reached her, Lavinia leaning on Meg, as her ankle looked a little messed up. 

“I bet they could,” Apollo nodded, remembering that Leo had been a resident of the Waystation for a while, and could put anything to good use, especially a broken engine. 

“Come on,” Clarisse beckoned them inside the fence. “Most everyone made it here before you.” 

The Waystation didn’t look any different on the outside, but the inside was vastly changed to account for the steady increase of occupants. Instead of the homey resting point for demigods he’d seen it as before, it had turned into a war compound, large enough to house the hundreds, if not thousands of people who had to take refuge here after the destruction of both Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. 

He pressed Clarisse for details as they entered, and got short but succinct answers: Annabeth, Piper, and Frank had arrived a couple days ago with the delegation from the Norse gods and the promise to send more einherjar, but Percy, Hazel, and Reyna hadn’t returned from Chicago with the Egyptian magicians yet. It was only a week into Apollo’s allowed two for the quests, however, so he didn’t have reason for worry yet. 

Those pressing questions answered, he turned his attention to the Waystation and couldn’t help but gape a little. They reached the main level, walked a short way down a hall, and stopped in between two sets of massive sliding oak doors on opposite sides of the hall. To his right was the Great Hall, and to the left was a new room he hadn’t seen before. 

While the Great Hall had indeed been great, it looked like it had doubled in size. The workshops around the edge of the hall stayed the same, but the table to seat 20 had been replaced by rows of large bench-seating tables that looked like they could fit hundreds at a time. At these tables people already sat, eating food that was being prepared in the absolutely massive kitchen that had likewise grown in size to accommodate hundreds more stomachs. 

On the opposite side, through the door to Apollo’s left, there was a room of maybe equal size with rows upon rows of bunks where some people lay slumbering still. 

“You like it?” 

Apollo grinned and turned around, knowing who it was without even looking. “Emmie,” he said, smiling widely as he spied her gazing at him with her hands on her hips. Embracing her tightly, he looked closely at her face - her wrinkles were deeper, but her strong build and silvery hair were just the same as they last time he’d seen her. 

“Thanks, Clarisse,” Emmie said, nodding over his shoulder. “I’ll take them from here. Go ahead and relieve the night watch.” Clarisse nodded, and headed back down the hallway they’d come. “Come on,” she said, holding Apollo’s arm and guiding him upstairs. “We’ve got a lot to catch you up on.” 

“This is incredible,” he gushed as they wandered through the Waystation’s new halls. Off to his right were the original apartments, and he swore he could hear the giggle of a young girl and wondered if it was Georgina. But where Emmie led him next was possibly a war room with the door closed, then a training arena, then an armory. 

“The Waystation prepared itself for you all,” Emmie said, smiling. “I’m just glad we could be useful.” 

“Thank you so much,” he said sincerely, watching as Demarus took much interest in a library, Cyrene in the armory, Meg in a greenhouse. Lavinia had disappeared, but he assumed she must have spied some of her comrades. “I can’t even begin to tell you what a relief it is, to have somewhere safe.” 

Her gaze is piercing as she reads him, and grasps his hands tightly, her thumb brushing over the lightning-shaped scars Zeus’ cuffs had left on him. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said quietly. “I can’t even imagine.” 

He resisted the urge to pull his hands away, so he just bowed his head and didn’t meet her eyes. “Have you seen my sister?”

Emmie nodded, and didn’t press further. “Everyone is meeting in the war room.” Apollo nodded and turned the way they’d come, stopping in front of the closed door to the war room and pushing it open, beckoning the others to follow.

Ah. So this was where his family was. Around the large round table sat most of the Council, along with some faces he didn’t know off to one side - the Norse delegation. Silence fell as he entered. Suddenly feeling awkward as everyone in the room stared at him, he shrugged. “What’s up?” 

“Heard you ran into pops,” Ares said as Apollo found one of the empty seats and propped his chin up in his hand as Meg (shooting furtive glances in Demeter’s direction), Cyrene (who was flat-out ignoring Ares despite his attempts to catch her eye), Demarus, and Pazuzu (both looking very awkward and out of place) took seats as well. 

“Sure did,” he said, fiddling with the edge of the table. “Sorry to say he’s not dead yet.” 

That earned a dry chuckle from the rest of those around the table. Besides the Council, Hades had also found a seat, but Nico was nowhere to be seen. Also at the table were Annabeth, Piper, and Frank, seated beside a motley crew Apollo could only guess was the Norse delegation. 

“What did I miss?” 

Not much at all, it seemed. Most of their supplies were quickly and safely moved from Camp Jupiter to the Waystation, but it was difficult to start planning a move, whether it be defensive or offensive, without knowing how the Egyptian magicians would fall into the whole equation. 

Apollo couldn’t help but notice that some of his family were giving him strange looks. He frowned, but thought nothing of it, wondering if maybe it was the gash on his cheek that still marred a thin red line across his face. He’d almost forgotten about it. But he gave them all the information he could, and with some prodding, got Pazuzu to recount everything he had told them already. He didn’t tell them that his own children were the sacrifices Zeus made to get past Enki’s wards to get to the Tablet the first time, but he did tell them that Zeus had possessed it before, and was bound to make another attempt. 

“Ah,” Athena nodded in understanding, and Annabeth, too, looked like something had just clicked into place for her. 

“What?” Apollo pressed, knowing immediately by the look on her face (despite how her face changed throughout the millennia, he always knew her face of realization) that he was missing something.

She leaned back in her chair and knocked on the wall behind her. After a second, a door on the same wall creaked open and Will, of all people, poked his head in. Spying Apollo immediately, he marched through the door, followed by Nico, Austin, and Kayla. 

“Told you,” Nico muttered in Will’s ear. “He’s fine.” 

“Hey,” Apollo said, standing up and giving Will a once-over and, deciding he wasn’t injured, hugged him. “Yeah… I’m fine. What are you–?”

“Thalia said she’d thought you’d died ,” Will said angrily, hugging Apollo around the middle tightly. “She said she saw Zeus kill you.” 

Nobody around the table of his family looked surprised at that comment, so Apollo just assumed they’d heard this before. “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit beat up, but-”

“Just a bit,” Meg added sarcastically. 

Apollo glared her into silence, before frowning. “Wait- when did you see Thalia?” Will suddenly looked very awkward, and looked back at where Austin and Kayla were sitting in the corner of the room and looking very guilty. “What did you do?” he said sternly. 

Nico sighed as Will, Austin, and Kayla all looked at their shoes, and took one for the team. “As we were leaving Camp Jupiter, they all had the same dream that Zeus had taken their mortal parents to the Garden, so they went and got them. Say ‘hi’.” 

Apollo barely had time to process what Nico had just said as he spun around to the open door, saw the three newcomers, and felt his jaw drop open. There was an awkward chuckle from the room and Apollo wanted to die . 

Dionysus had the nerve to laugh. “This is like, my worst nightmare.” 

“Thanks,” Apollo muttered weakly as Noami Solace, Latricia Lake, and Darren Knowles all stood in the doorway. “That’s really helpful.” 

“You’re just collecting exes at this point, aren’t you?” Aphrodite leaned forward on the table with a wide, eager smile as her gaze flipped between Naomi, Darren, Latricia, and Cyrene, who all looked very awkward all of a sudden. “Four in one room.” Her expression was much too excited for Apollo’s comfort. Piper gagged quietly off to the side. 

“That’s-” he raised a hand in a silent plea for her to shut up, “also not helpful. Wait-” he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Start over. I can… I can only process so many things at once.” 

“You said Zeus needs to sacrifice three souls of people who have known his enemy – you – to break past Enki’s wards and get the Tablet of Destinies,” Athena said, and Apollo nodded, suddenly understanding. “Zeus chose these three mortals as his next targets to do that. Your children, thankfully, concocted a plan to go into the Garden and rescue them before Zeus could do that.” She sat back in her chair.

Artemis nodded, shooting Will, Kayla, and Austin nods of approval. “My nephews and niece are very brave, walking into the enemy camp like that. Who knows what could have happened had Zeus succeeded in his plan.” 

“Brave?” Apollo squeaked out, then calmed himself, but only just. “Yes, very brave.” Wordlessly, he pointed his kids towards the door, and they took the message and all filed back through, heads down. Following them, and trying not to show how awkward he felt as Naomi, Darren, and Latricia followed him through, closed the door behind them. The seven of them were alone.

“What in Tartarus were you thinking?” He spun on his children, who all looked very guilty. “You could have at least told me-” 

“You would have tried to stop us,” Kayla protested. 

“And for good reason!” Apollo hissed, then rubbed his face again. “You should be glad I don’t have a precedent for grounding. You’d all be in for it.” 

“Oh, I do,” Naomi said, her voice skating up Apollo’s skin with a shiver and pinging around his brain, raising her hand and giving Will a very mothering glare, but it was soft, considering the circumstances. 

“Same,” Latricia said, raising a single eyebrow in Austin’s direction. 

“Um,” Darren stepped forward, and Apollo turned to look at him and was suddenly struck by just how well he’d aged. Pushing down the thought, he held his tongue. “I don’t, but-” he shook his head. “We all just want to keep you safe, Apollo most of all.” 

“It isn’t safe,” Will frowned. “It never has been, and it never will be. Isn’t it pointless to pretend like we can always pick the option that’s the safest for us?” He turned to his mother. “Mom, if we hadn’t come to get you, Zeus could have wiped out all of humanity . I’m not sorry I did it, not one bit.” He turned to face Apollo. “I’m sorry if we scared you, especially with – with Gracie and Jerry. But I’d do it again.” Kayla and Austin nodded in agreement. 

Apollo swallowed, even as he felt his anger dissipate at the invocation of Gracie and Jerry. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Just… just promise me if you ever have to do something like that again, you’ll do it with the proper backup and planning, and you tell me.” 

“Promise,” Kayla and Austin both said, approaching and hugging him tightly, Will making the same vow with a fire in his eyes. As the three of the kids left to go get breakfast, Apollo sombered at just how quickly his kids had grown up without him. He’d missed so much. 

“So…” Naomi started, a smile in her voice as Apollo turned to face them with a grimace. “Apollo, parenting . That’s a new one.” 

He shot them a cringing smile. “Yeah, uh… there’s a lot you don’t know.” 

Chapter Text

He took Naomi, Latricia, and Darren up to the roof, the most quiet place he could think of in the sudden bustling of the Waystation. With the sudden increase in occupants from both the Greek and Roman camps as well as all the gods-turned-mortal who had taken refuge there, and the preparation for the Egyptian magicians… there was a lot going on, to say the least. 

Despite that, the roof was quiet, if a bit windy and frigid in the winter weather. But the Waystation had prepared for even that, several magical patio heaters making the air around them ripple with heat. Abelard the gryphon clicked his beak at Apollo as he approached, but didn’t move from his cozy nest. Nestled beside the gryphon’s powerful lion’s body was what looked like a lump of fur with straggly wings and a tiny beak – a baby gryphon. 

Apollo just smiled and kept a respectful distance. So Heloise’s egg had finally hatched. 

“What… is that?” Naomi asked hesitantly, inching around Apollo to get a better look. “Is it a hyena?”

“It’s a gryphon,” he explained quickly, leading them away towards a patio table with cushy chairs. “The Mist is obscuring your view.” 

“Right,” she nodded, as did Latricia and Darren. None of them could see through the Mist, but he had explained the concept to them before, so they knew what it was.

“So,” he said awkwardly as he sat at the table, drumming his fingers along across the top. Latricia’s fingers kept a rhythmic beat in time with his, probably completely unconsciously. Naomi noticed, though, and smiled to herself. Darren was completely oblivious, bless him. “I guess- sorry about this. Getting caught up in my family drama.” 

“Sounds like it’s a bit more than just family drama,” Darren interjected, but with a playful look on his face. 

“Well,” Apollo grinned sheepishly, “yeah, a little bit.” 

“Tell us everything,” Latricia leaned forward in her chair. “From the beginning.”

Apollo snorted. “The beginning of all this was a long time ago.” Should he start three years ago, when he’d been subjected to solitary confinement on Olympus? Or Jerry’s prophecy? Or his return to Olympus? Or, if he were to really zoom out, it would have been the very first time his father had turned him mortal, when the relationship between them had started to fray before it had completely snapped. Or with Hesiod’s prophecy, several thousand years ago. 

He gave them the broadest version he could, preferring not to get into specifics. But it became difficult when he got to Jason’s death and Darren’s hand landed on his arm when his voice caught on his words. 

But he finished the story, and even though it was difficult, it was easier knowing he was with people he loved, people he didn’t have to be in charge of. The weight of being king of the gods, however temporary he wanted it, was heavy on his shoulders, it was nice to let it go for just a little and be vulnerable. 

“And that was why Zeus was targeting you,” he summed up, avoiding their eyes. “In order to reach the Tablet, he needs to sacrifice the souls of three people I know. The kids are all here, protected, so I suppose he just…” He trailed off, swallowing around the ball in his throat. 

They don’t ask too many questions, for which he’s grateful. The events of the past few weeks have been painful enough that recounting them once was bad enough. “You should stay here, at the Waystation,” he said, standing up. “We can protect you better.” 

“Thank you,” Naomi said softly, and all Apollo could do was nod shortly and flee the rooftop patio. 

He could see it in their eyes, as he left, how much they could tell that everything over the past few years had completely remade him. He wasn’t the person they used to know, at all. It made him wonder if they even really recognized him. He felt so stripped back to his base layers, eons of protective barriers and thick platitudes taken away so his very soul was bare to everyone he saw. He shivered. 

But as he descended back down the stairs to the main body of the Waystation, he did his best to pull his proverbial cloak over his shoulders. Everyone here was scared for their lives, chased from camp to camp. It would be the least he could do to be the comforting face in the room. 

The first people he looked for were his children. Spotting them all, plus Meg and Nico, sitting at one of the large dining tables with dinner plates scattered around them, he made a beeline towards them. 

Maggie was the first to notice him. “Daddy!” she squealed, scrambling out of her seat and racing towards him as fast as her little legs could carry her. 

“Hey, pipsqueak!” he grinned, crouching down and wincing as his still-weakened muscles protested as he lifted her and settled her on his hip. “How are you doing?” He hadn’t seen her since the mass funeral they’d had before leaving Camp Jupiter. He was just glad she had made the journey alright. 

“Good,” she nodded happily, probably the only person in the room who felt as happy as they looked. All the other smiles were fake or forced. “I had carrots.”

“You have x-ray vision yet?” he said, fixing her hair and approaching the table where his other children sat, watching them both with pained smiles. He felt yet another pang of guilt as he realized that they’d never had moments like him with this, young and happy and unbothered yet by the world. How jealous they must be feeling. That realization would have crushed him if he had the emotional bandwidth to let it. 

“My mommy said that’s not a real thing,” Maggie said sternly. 

Apollo just laughed, pained as it was. Maggie’s mother had been a brilliant physician before Zeus and Hanpa had killed her. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to eat more carrots and maybe we’ll find out, huh?”

He put her down and slid onto the bench in between Will and Meg, and Maggie promptly climbed into his lap. He let her, holding her close and sliding her plate of carrots in front of her, and she continued to much happily. 

The atmosphere in the hall was subdued, mostly everybody eating morosely. Even his own children, safe and together (for once) were quiet. His godly children – Aristaeus, Asclepius, Hymenaios had sequestered themselves to one end of the table, too. His daughters and Ialemus were off in a corner with the Muses, all looking tired and worn-down. But upon seeing him, Ialemus shot him a thumbs-up and the girls all waved. 

Meg tried to slide a plate in front of him, but he didn’t touch it, not particularly hungry. 

“Any update on Percy?” Nico asked. 

Apollo shook his head. “You’d probably know more than me. Haven’t heard from him since we left Camp Jupiter.” 

Nico hummed, disappointed. 

“They’ll be surrounded by thousands of Egyptian wizards, though,” Will said placatingly. 

“Magicians,” Apollo corrected him, laughing. 

“Same thing.” 

He sat with his children for a little while longer, the lunch rush ebbing and flowing, watching and waving as old and new friends entered. Demarus distractedly waved towards him some time later, his eyes seeking someone out. Clearly not finding who he was looking for, he approached Apollo and bent close. “Have you seen my mother?”

Apollo looked around, frowning. “No.” He hadn’t seen Mnemosyne in some time, actually. Some of the more gentle Titans had joined them, like Nike and the wind gods that were technically Titans. He’d heard that Leto would be travelling up to join them as well, but no sign of Mnemosyne. “You could ask the Muses.” 

Demarus looked hesitant to approach their shared half-sisters (by Zeus to Apollo, by Mnemosyne to Demarus), and Apollo honestly didn’t blame him. They’d lost two of their number, and were so tight-knit on the other side of the hall it would be difficult to get through. 

“Is everything alright?” Apollo asked, leaning away from the table so their conversation was a little more private. 

Demarus warily looked around to make sure nobody was listening in. “I am… concerned. The demon-” Apollo raised an eyebrow. Demarus sighed, his frustration oozing through his normally calm demeanor. “I’m not wrong. But he keeps trying to tell me he’s seen me before, and I’m worried-”

“You think you’re the scribe he was talking about,” Apollo realized. “Nabu’s offspring who recorded the only remaining mention of Hanpa.” 

Demarus looked the most uneasy Apollo had ever seen him. “It fits,” he admitted, tucking a few of his locs decorated with gold charms behind his shoulder. Apollo felt his face flush at realizing how close their faces were, leaning back and trying to focus on the conversation. “The only thing that doesn’t fit is that I don’t remember it. Which-” 

“You think your mother erased your memory of it?” Apollo frowned. 

“To protect me, maybe. I kept meticulous historical records of my fathers’ ancestry when I was young, it’s possible I came across some information that would have drawn… undue attention. And I am a descendant of Nabu. It’s-”

“Hey,” Apollo murmured, shifting in his seat so he was turned around and laid a hand on Demarus’ arm. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.” Demarus didn’t look particularly at ease, though. “Come sit,” Apollo said, making space on the bench. They hadn’t moved in a little while, with no reason to move just yet and with Apollo’s body still recovering from his altercation with Zeus, he felt much weaker than usual and was quite content to just sit for a little while. 

Demarus remained quiet, but took the seat. Apollo laid a hand on his shoulder, but didn’t have the courage to let the touch linger. 

He continued to people-watch as his children slowly left the table – Emmie appeared with a smile to whisk Maggie off for her nap, and the others got back to their chores, leaving Apollo and Demarus alone. 

The meeting in the war room must have concluded at some point, and the Council and some of the more senior demigods entered the hall. Artemis and Cyrene made their way over to Apollo and Demarus, heads leaned in close, giggling like schoolgirls but in a way only two of the most lethal women Apollo knew could. 

“We need to set up better defenses around the place,” Artemis summed up the meeting for him as she sat down and pulled a platter of sandwiches over towards her. “We don’t know when Zeus and Hanpa will attack, but we don’t have a plan on moving any time soon. We need a defensive plan before we can begin an offensive one.” 

Apollo nodded along, knowing full well Athena had probably been word-vomiting for the last two hours and Artemis was just doing him a favor in summing it up so succinctly. 

Sure enough, Athena approached with a sense of purpose about her, and it was all Apollo could do to fend her off. “Later,” he said as she drew up to their table. “I think I got the gist.”

Athena, being Athena, looked like she wanted to protest and give him in-depth minutes on the meeting, but thank the Fates she trusted him enough to simply nod and move to sit on Artemis’ other side. 

He awkwardly cleared his throat as she started to step over the bench to sit down, and she paused, brow furrowing. “What?” she asked, flat-toned. 

He jerked his head towards the occupants of the table to his left, where Annabeth and Malcolm Pace and some of her other children, Greek and Roman alike, all sat together.  

Her normally stoic exterior broke, and her eyes widened in something close to panic. “No.” 

“Yes.” 

“I shouldn’t-”

“They’re your children. Have a meal with them.” 

Athena hesitated, snapped her mouth shut and slowly and rigidly turned towards the table of her children. Apollo honestly thought it was the most nervous he’d ever seen her. Trying not to laugh as she jerkily approached the table, he watched as the kids all gaped as she motioned wordlessly to the empty seat next to Annabeth and, looking like she was actively hating her life, sat down. 

Artemis was having a very hard time smothering her trembling laugh with both hands covering her mouth. Cyrene wasn’t even hiding it, just widely grinning as Athena glared back at them. 

He did the same exact thing as Ares tried to approach them as well (mostly just trying to talk to Cyrene, bless him), wordlessly pointing to the table where his own children sat. Clarisse and Frank seemed to be getting along very well, surprisingly, but stopped to stare as their father awkwardly approached their table. 

He gave some grace to Hera, Poseidon, and Demeter, with no children to sit with (Meg had already left to check out the greenhouses with her siblings), but Hermes and Aphrodite got the same treatment as Ares and Athena, both panickily shaking their heads at him until they gave in and sat with their children like it was a death sentence. 

It made him silently laugh until stitches formed in his side to watch his siblings so deeply uncomfortable, reminding him of those first few weeks as a mortal at Camp Half-Blood, suddenly feeling a pang of some complex feeling that was almost nostalgia for a simpler time. Simpler, even if it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. 

It was good, though, to watch Athena’s shoulders loosen, to watch Hermes’ smile grow, Ares throw his head back in a laugh, Aphrodite smile as she showed her children how to do an intricate braid. 

For the first time since all this started, Apollo felt a little flare of hope. Getting out of this alive was maybe a big ask, but if he could teach his family how to be human… Well, it was a step in the right direction. 

Chapter Text

Chicago was not pleasant. At all. Percy huddled in his jacket as Reyna jogged back to them from down the street. “Nothing. I don’t see anything.”

“It’s probably just obscured by the Mist,” Hazel said for the tenth time as she shivered. 

“It should not be this hard,” Percy groaned as another gust of wind shoved cold air up his nostrils. “We’re not looking for a garden gnome, right? It’s like, an actual building?”

“You tell me,” Hazel muttered. “I didn’t know there were Egyptian demigods until a few weeks ago.” 

Percy shuddered in the cold, wondering at what point they’d have to call their quest quits. They were almost at their 2-week deadline Apollo had given them to find and recruit the Egyptians. But even if he didn’t want to return empty-handed, it was proving way harder than he’d originally thought to find what Carter had said were several thousand magicians. Which, at least according to Percy, should not be this hard to find. 

“Monster,” Reyna hissed suddenly, and they all ducked into an alley. Percy drew Riptide and hoped they hadn’t been noticed as he poked half his head out of the alley. 

The mortals probably just saw a stray cat. Percy saw what looked like a lion with the feet of an eagle and wings of pure lightning, prowling along the crowded sidewalk on the other side of the street. Percy watched with bated breath as it crossed their line of sight and disappeared from view. 

But still, they stayed. 

“Is it gone?” Hazel hissed, hefting her spatha. 

“I think so-” Percy muttered, poking his head out of the alley again only to find himself standing face to face with the lion. Cursing, he jumped back and, raising Riptide, made a valiant swipe in the monster’s direction. The monster snarled back at him, backing up and hissing, wings shooting off tiny bolts of electricity. 

“Hey!” one of the mortals passing by frowned in his direction. “It’s just a stray, man. Be nice.” 

“Sure,” Percy leveled Riptide as the mortal walked away, muttering something about delinquents. “Just a nice kitty, aren’t you?” 

The monster bared its teeth in response to that, as if smiling and saying ‘why yes, I am’ before charging once more. But a cleverly timed arrow from Reyna as the monster crossed the opening of the alley landed deep in its chest, and it toppled to the ground with a grunt. 

Percy watched as the monster twitched once, and was still. 

“I don’t like them,” Reyna shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “The Mesopotamian ones. They don’t dissolve like ours.” Sure enough, the monster’s body did not dissolve into dust, but lay still on the sidewalk, leaking blood. 

“Kinda makes you feel bad,” Percy shrugged, without actually feeling bad. “But I don’t know what to do with it.” 

The three of them stared at the monster, not knowing whether to clean it up or leave it. Together, they all looked between the monster and each other. And with a nod, they decided and walked away. “It just looks like a cat, right?” 

Deep along the wooded paths in a park close to the bank of Lake Michigan, they huddled together and made their plan. “We have three more days to find them,” Hazel says, shaking her head. “I say we keep looking. We’re only a couple hours from Indianapolis.” 

“We need a better plan than ‘keep looking’,” Reyna frowned. “It’s been ten days with no luck. We need another strategy than ‘follow the monsters’, too, because that hasn’t proven very helpful.”

Percy thought hard. Carter had said the monsters were plaguing them, but so far Chicago didn’t seem to have an unusual amount of monsters. They must have tried everything at this rate. Hazel, with her abilities to manipulate the Mist, had tried her best to see if she could locate the nome through its enchantments, but it had proven fruitless. And she was definitely sure that it wasn't underground, either. They had even followed people through the streets who looked like they might be magicians, but all had either disappeared halfway through the chase or had just been completely innocent mortals. 

And with three days left to complete the mission, Percy was losing hope. 

“Well,” Reyna said, staring at the ground and deep in thought. “Maybe we’ve been approaching this all wrong. We’ve been quiet, right? We haven’t drawn attention to ourselves at all because we didn’t want to attract monsters. But maybe that’s exactly what we need to do. Because if the monsters aren’t noticing us, then the magicians aren’t either. We need to make a scene.” 

Percy nodded, following along. Something terrible popped into his head as he looked out at Lake Michigan. 

“You’re going to hate this,” he said, “but I have an idea.”

“Ready?” he called over to Hazel a few hours later. Lake Michigan glimmered in the setting sun. Night would be approaching soon, and with it, monsters. Monsters and hopefully some magicians. 

She nodded determinedly, bracing herself for her own bit of magic. 

Percy stepped out onto the bank of the lake, feeling the pull of his power in his stomach. The water began to twist and turn in front of him, small at first but growing in size and speed. Percy extended his hands, breathing deeply and concentrating hard. Behind him, Hazel raised her own hands and the air began to take form. 

Within seconds, they had created their own monster, a giant lizard-looking thing that churned up the water around its long, twisting body. Percy felt himself starting to sweat as their Mist-made monster churned and roared. 

At first, nothing happened. Hazel’s monster simply roared towards the setting sun, causing quite a ruckus that the mortals would probably just think was an ambulance siren or something. 

But then, everything happened. 

Percy sensed it before he saw it, another large body moving through the water in the lake, cutting through the surface towards them with the speed of Poseidon’s own chariot. Hazel’s monster turned its attention to the thing moving towards them, roaring ferociously and raising its claws to attack-

The thing that breached the surface of the lake was unlike anything Percy had ever seen before with thick, scaly skin that was both black and translucent at the same time. Its jaw was unhinged wide as it cut through the water towards Hazel’s Mist monster, showing needle-like teeth. It almost looked like a deep-sea fish, just… a lot bigger. 

“Yikes,” Percy muttered. “Okay.” 

The monster lunged towards Hazel’s, jaw gaping and snapped down hard. But its teeth cut right through thin air, Hazel’s monster shimmering and disappearing. It hovered there, confused and churning up water before Percy dug deep and tugged with all his might. 

The waves rose up around the monster, cocooning it in a tight ball of swirling water. Just before the waves closed over its head, it thrashed and roared into the approaching night. 

And the night roared back. 

“I think that did it,” Reyna said from behind him over the rush of the water. 

“You think?!” Hazel yelled. 

Percy turned, breaking his concentration from restraining the monster for one moment to look behind him and see the wall of approaching monsters. “Ah. So that’s where they all were.” 

“Gonna need some help here!” Reyna called to him as she and Hazel readied their swords. The wall of monsters was approaching, and there were a lot of them. 

Percy glanced back at the monster in his water bubble. While it was tumbling through the current he was creating and unable to move, it glared at him with beady eyes. He was going to have to deal with this thing at some point. “This was a terrible plan,” he muttered, and with a crash of water, he released the monster. 

Using his momentum, he planted his feet and pulled once more - a wave of water thirty feet high rose high above him. “Watch out!” he yelled, and the wave crashed down just as he managed to cover Reyna and Hazel. 

The tidal wave collapsed down on the beach and washed over the army of approaching monsters, sweeping them away and drawing some of them back out into the lake. 

Reyna and Hazel, completely dry, waded in the water as it rose up to their knees. Percy looked out beyond them. The army of monsters was scattered, spluttering and wet, but rising. There was a rumbling roar, and he turned to see the monster he had released staring at him with milky eyes and needle-like teeth bared. 

The three of them were stuck between big ugly and an army of small uglies. “This was an awful plan,” Reyna said, looking around. They had hoped all this action would attract at least one magician, but they had also attracted maybe a bit too much action for them to handle. 

Escape plans ricocheted around Percy’s brain. “Plan. Now. Plan, please,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He turned to watch the sea monster release yet another earth-shattering roar and, much to Percy’s displeasure, surged forward to cut towards them through the water once more. 

He readied Riptide, hoping he could come up with a good plan on the fly. 

But that was when a shadow appeared out of the corner of his eye, rocketing to intercept the monster, footfalls crashing through the water. Just as the monster was about to reach them, and Percy had raised Riptide, the newcomer had stretched out a hand, yelled something unintelligible, and poof! The monster dissolved into ashy dust. 

“Walt!” 

Walt turned to face them, looking sweaty and winded. “Sorry-” he huffed. “I’m late.” 

“No, man,” Percy clapped him on the back. “Just in time.” 

Hazel cleared her throat and eyed where the monster had been not a moment before. “Hey- Walt, right? Can we, uh, get a move on please? Great to meet you.”

“Yes,” Walt straightened up. “The nome.” He eyed the army of monsters again, all hanging back and eyeing the wet pile of ash that was slowly being pulled out into the lake. “Time to go.” With that, they sprinted off down the beach. The army of monsters watched them go, not chasing, which freaked Percy out more than anything else. 

Walt led them at a jog through the streets, which were less crowded now but not empty by any means. He led them down several blocks, checking behind him every so often for a tail. Finding none, he ducked into a seemingly random doorway and, laying a hand on the door, muttered a spell under his breath. A symbol appeared in the wood, and it swung open to greet them. 

“We’re glad we finally found you,” Walt said quietly as they hurried down a dark hallway, through a courtyard, and into another building. “We’ve had many magicians come seeking refuge here. But we’ve been under siege for the last week. Barely anybody has been able to come or go.”

“Except you,” Hazel said suspiciously.

“All the Egyptian gods are in exile, and have been for several years,” Walt explained. “Except for me.” 

“You-” Hazel frowned. “But-”

“Egyptian gods are different from Roman gods,” Walt said. “We do not have physical forms, but take human hosts. I am Anubis, god of death. And I am Walt Stone of Seattle. When the gods went into exile, I was allowed to stay.”

“Walt,” Percy hurried forward as they found themselves in a wide lobby and cut through to a door with an ‘employees only’ sign on it. “Our gods were all turned mortal a few weeks ago-”

“We know,” Walt said, leading them down another hallway, dashing through an alley, and up a flight of stairs. Percy took a closer look at him, and saw the sweat on his brow. When Carter and Sadie had been hosting Horus and Isis, respectively, human stamina hadn’t been a problem for them. Clearly the same was no longer true for Walt. “The rest of the gods are trapped in the Duat, and I am… weak.”

Walt slowed to a steady walking pace once they reached a large courtyard, surrounded by buildings on either side. And in the center of the large courtyard was a giant silver sculpture shaped like a bean, surrounded by smiling tourists. 

“Is that-” Percy started. 

“The Bean,” Walt nodded, taking them up to one side of it, swerving around tourists taking selfies. With one outstretched hand, he pressed down on the metal of the sculpture and a hidden door swung open. Furtively glancing around, Walt ushered them in ahead of him. 

“I didn’t know you could go inside this thing,” Reyna murmured. 

“They can, but not in the same way we can,” Walt said as Percy drew Riptide and the glow of the Celestial Bronze lit up the interior of the sculpture to reveal a set of stairs leading upwards. 

“Don’t tell me-”

“The Bean is the entrance to the nome,”  Walt finished with a nod, leading them up the stairs. 

Percy can practically hear Annabeth in his head: “It’s actually called the Cloud Gate,” he imagined her saying. Because she had actually said that when they’d visited Chicago a couple years ago and he’d made the mistake of calling it The Bean. 

The stairs led to a trap door in the ceiling, which Walt pushed open and cold air rushed over them once more. Clamoring out, Percy found himself standing on top of the sculpture- 

His jaw dropped. He hadn’t seen the nome from the ground because it had been obscured in the Mist. But now he could see it. 

The Seventy-First Nome basically stood on stilts, support beams placed strategically all over the large courtyard to hold up a massive building that covered all the tourists below in a thick shroud of shadow. As Percy looked up, all he could see was the bottom, a churning mass of architecture that would have made Annabeth jump for joy. 

A ladder dropped in front of them. Walt took it and climbed up first. Hazel followed, then Reyna, and Percy took the end. The ladder started to lift as soon as he was on it, all possible access to the nome cut off. 

Percy looked up as the building swallowed them, lifting them upwards and into the nome. He had no idea how tall the thing was, but judging by the shadows the building cast on the skyline of Chicago, he had no doubt it was very very big. He stood, looking down at the ladder and spied the Bean below and was suddenly very glad he was up here. He figured this would be the safest place from the monsters. 

Well, he was wrong. As he looked up and saw that he now stood in a large hall with tall golden statues lining the walls, the signs of invasion were obvious. Windows were broken, floor tiles were shattered, and statues were missing limbs. Several haggard magicians stood at the center of the room, and every so often a monster would crawl through a window, cut itself on the glass, try to enter the nome, and be blasted back by a well-aimed spell. 

“We’ve been fighting them off for weeks,” Walt explained, hurrying them through the main hall. “But they just keep trying to get through. We’ve boarded up all the windows upstairs, but we can’t close these ones tight enough, it seems.” 

Hazel looked around and nervously gripped her spatha as they looked outside one of the windows that had been broken into. Planks hung broken and useless around it, exposing the blue sky outside. “So besides the windows, that ladder is the only way in or out?”

“Yes,” Walt said. “But that also means it is hard to mount an attack because it would take hours to get our army out of the building. We won’t last another week of this siege.” 

“You’re stuck on the defensive,” Percy mused, turning to watch the magicians do their best to cast protective spells which will only last for minutes. 

“Exactly where I predicted we’d end up,” said a new voice. 

Percy turned to see a newcomer stepping down onto the last flight of stairs. Dressed in pajama-like linens but with the aura of a battle-worn general, Carter Kane looked more like a pharaoh than ever. 

“Carter,” Percy stepped up and clapped him on the back. Carter gave him a wry smile. “Not dead yet.” 

“Getting there,” Carter said quietly, looking out the window and seeing a flying mass of monsters ready to attack. “I hope you have good news.” 

Chapter Text

Percy had to admit, sitting in the presence of some of the most powerful magicians in the world was a little nerve-wracking. He sat at a large table with Carter and Sadie, Walt and Zia, and a barrel-like man Carter had introduced as his uncle Amos. 

Amos, apparently, was the most powerful magician, and ran the House of Life as the Chief Lector and Percy didn’t really understand what it meant but Amos was definitely intimidating enough to look like it. 

“So,” Amos said, leaning forward, “you’re Percy Jackson.” 

“Yep. That’s me.” Percy shuffled in his seat. “This is Hazel, daughter of Pluto and praetor of Camp Jupiter, and this is Reyna, daughter of Bellona and hunter of Artemis.” 

“Diana.”

“Diana, sorry.” 

Amos regarded them with suspicion. “Carter says he went to your gods for help, and he was denied. What are you doing here now? Has your Council,” he said the word with a certain level of disdain that Percy could certainly empathize with, “changed its mind?”

“The Olympian Council is under new leadership,” Hazel said firmly. “Apollo is king of the gods now. He’s the one who sent us. Jupiter-”

“Zeus,” Percy muttered.

“-is a traitor,” Hazel finished, shooting him a look. “It’s his fault we’re even here.” 

Sadie’s eyes widened. Walt’s narrowed. “What do you mean?” he asked dangerously. 

“Well, actually,” Percy looked at Carter, “it started with you.” 

Carter’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You came to Olympus and you warned the Council,” Percy explained, “and when you did that, you specifically said ‘heed my warning’- Annabeth and I figured out that that’s the line from our Great Prophecy, one that was given years ago and basically predicts the possibility of the end of the pantheons.”

He recited the prophecy from memory, and Carter’s eyes widened to hear his own words there. “Zeus thought that it meant that the prophecy was coming true, and he made a deal with the Mesopotamian god of evil to make sure it never happens,” Percy continued. “He wants to find what’s called the Tablet of Destinies-”

Amos and Walt both made sounds of recognition. “He has it?”

“I don’t think so,” Percy shook his head. “Otherwise we’d all be dead, right?”

“He’s already used it, then,” Amos said, and he sounded confident enough that Percy wasn’t going to question it. 

Hazel was, though. “How do you know?”

“The only way he could have turned the gods of every single pantheon mortal is if he’d already had it,” Amos said. “It’s the only object powerful enough.” 

“But he probably doesn’t have it currently,” Walt mused. “You’re right, we’d all be dead if that were true. But then how did he lose it…?”

“Never mind how he lost it,” Sadie waved a hand in his direction. “I’d like to keep it that way. The further away, the better.” 

Walt shook his head. “No, we need it, too. There’s no way we can end this unless we find a way to restore every god’s divinity. Otherwise…” he stared off into the distance and shrugged, at a loss, “who knows what will happen?”

“Oh,” Sadie frowned. “I hadn’t thought about that.” She gave Walt a long, hard look, and it looked like they were having a silent conversation. Percy didn’t follow, but the nod she gave him was firm. “We’re going to fix this,” she said, her eyes not leaving Walt’s. “I promise.” She looked back at Percy. “Where is this… tablet thing?”

“I don’t know,” Percy shrugged. “I’m hoping someone else on our end has managed to figure that out, but we haven’t had the chance to check in with anyone.” 

“We need your help,” Hazel said, addressing Carter directly. “We can’t hope to overpower Jupiter, Hanpa, and their army alone. They’ve destroyed both our camps, our numbers are dwindling, and our gods are mortal and basically helpless without us. There isn’t an end to this for either of us, Greco-Roman or Egyptian unless we find the Tablet and use it to destroy Hanpa for good.”

“And it’s not just us two,” Percy said, looking at Amos. “We have connections to the Norse pantheon, too. If…” he falters, not wanting to make promises he couldn’t keep, but deciding there couldn’t be much harm, “If we can recruit as many pantheons as possible, if we fight together, we might have a chance.” 

“We already tried that,” Carter shook his head. “Chinese, Mayan, Yoruba, Aztec-” He sighed. “Any pantheon you can list, we’ve tried to recruit. Ask for help or offer it, they all refused. Best we have is a handful of their demigods, but it won’t be enough to turn the tide.” He looked over at a boarded-up window as if imagining the army outside. “Besides Anubis, all our gods are in exile, trapped in the Duat. The other pantheons won’t take a chance on us.” 

“Never mind the fact that we have thousands of perfectly capable magicians,” Sadie scoffed. “They won’t even listen to Walt. They’re all being attacked, same as us and same as you guys, but they’d rather let their armies die than listen to us mortals.” 

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Amos interrupted and shook his head at Percy. “We can’t help you, because we can’t help ourselves. We’re under siege with no hope of escaping. So unless you have a brilliant plan to flank all those monsters outside with an army you didn’t seem to bring, you came here for nothing.” 

“We can get an army,” Reyna finally said. “We can recruit the other pantheons and get you out at the same time.” 

Percy stared at her. “We can?”

“They’ll listen to a god, right?” Reyna looked over at Sadie. “If you can find a way for us to contact one of our own in Indianapolis, we can have one come here. Recruit an army, end this siege, and join forces at the Waystation.” 

She made it sound so easy. But it was a sound plan. Percy looked over at Amos, whose brow was furrowed and was lost in thought. Carter, looking hopeful, turned to his uncle with a pleading stare. 

“Which god would you bring?” Walt asked hesitantly. 

Percy, Hazel, and Reyna exchanged a look and nodded in agreement. “Poseidon,” Percy said. “My father.”

A day later, Percy waited on the bank of Lake Michigan once more, holding Riptide aloft so the glow acted as a beacon. The sounds of the city were loud, but he focused on the sound of the water, how it lapped against the sand. And how that sound changed as he heard someone wading through towards him. 

Percy turned Riptide back into pen form as Poseidon splashed up towards him, wrinkling his nose at his wet clothes, a thick jacket worn over his typical Hawaiian print shirt. “I haven’t figured that one out yet,” he muttered ruefully as Percy commanded the water to evaporate, leaving Poseidon’s clothes dry once more. “Apollo seems to be able to, just, turn on his powers sometimes, it’s very annoying.” 

“It’s all the practice he’s had being mortal,” Percy joked, turning to go back up the beach. Carter had warned him that, although small groups might not get noticed by the monsters, they should still be careful. 

“I’ve had practice, too, but I don’t know how he does it,” Poseidon shook his head, but there was some deeper concern Percy could sense. “Whatever.” He clapped Percy on the back. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“I saw you two weeks ago,” Percy reminds him as they cross over through a park. 

“Ah. You saw Neptune. I haven’t seen you.” He sighed, and an awkward silence descended over them. “So… have the others arrived yet?”

Percy nodded. Carter and Sadie had spent the last day summoning as many gods from as many pantheons as they could. Clearly, the Egyptians had better connections than he did. Slowly, they had been trickling into the nome, packing it to burst, and Percy could only hope that their armies would be ready before it did. “They wouldn’t listen to Walt. We’d hoped that they might hear us out if it was coming from a god.” 

Poseidon shrugged. “Not a terrible idea.” 

They walked in silence through the park back to the entrance to the nome and took the ladder up with no issues. But Percy had the nagging feeling that they were being followed. 

“Interesting,” Poseidon mused as he looked up into the hall once they had entered the nome. “You know, the ancient Egyptians had a lot of overlap with the Greeks. All the water deities-”

“Yep,” Percy interrupted him before he could get too far. Unlike the last time they had come through, the hall was quiet. The windows were still open, a magician stationed at each one with their weapons ready and spells primed, but no monsters clawing through. Percy shuddered, unsettled. 

“What’s going on?” he asked one. She was blonde, like a cheerleader, and carried a brown staff with little ornaments on it. 

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “A couple hours ago, they were trying to break in like ever. But now…” She looked out the window. “They’re all gone.” 

“They’re preparing for an attack,” Carter said, walking down the hall towards them with Amos. “They know we have called a summit.” He extended his hand to Poseidon. “We haven’t properly met. I’m-”

“Carter Kane,” Poseidon grinned. “I’d remember the name of anyone who threatened my brother like you did.” 

“Oh,” Carter blushed. “Yeah, well- He just made me mad, you know?”

“Yes,” Poseidon slapped him on the back. “I certainly do.” 

Carter looked embarrassed, but pleased as he turned back to the girl. “Hold down the fort, yeah Jaz? Let me know if there’s any movement.”

The girl, Jaz, nodded grimly. “All over it.” 

Carter and Amos led them through the nome, past magicians who were all getting ready for battle. Finally, they arrived at a large set of double doors. “I don’t know-” Carter started, laying his hand on the door.

“You do the talking,” Poseidon said kindly. “I’ll just be backup.” 

Carter nodded and pushed open the door. Striding straight through, he led them into a massive throne room, a long hall with pillars and statues on either side. Amassed in it were several dozen people. Most of them were gods, based on the way they were dressed. Very few were dressed like mortals, despite the fact that a good number of them bore physical wounds. It seemed they were trying to hold on to some form of their divinity, wearing elaborate headdresses and robes and holding weapons that Percy couldn’t even begin to describe. 

Carter inhaled deeply as he approached the front of the room, standing on a slightly raised dais between Sadie and Amos. Poseidon took a position beside the dais, and Percy beside him. 

Percy watched the amassed gods as Carter began to speak. He had high hopes for this, actually, considering the fact they were even present. They wouldn’t have come if they’d thought there was no reason to listen. Maybe they’d change their minds. 

“I’ve asked you here because there is no other option,” Carter said. “You can fight this war alone or we can all come together. The Greco-Roman pantheon-”

“But you just said it’s their fault we’re even in this mess!” one god spoke up angrily, waving some curved staff in the air. “Why should we trust them!”

Chatter broke out, with others agreeing and bickering and Percy rolled his eyes. But Poseidon cut through it. “We’re under new management,” he said loudly, his voice carrying throughout the hall. “You’re right, it’s Zeus’ fault we’re here. Thankfully,” he gestured widely, “we are now committed to undoing it.” 

“Who’s in charge now?” 

“Apollo,” Poseidon said shortly. 

One god with a large feathered headdress and a large gold sun hanging around his neck laughed loudly in disbelief. “He’s an idiot!”

“Need I remind you that the Greco-Roman pantheon is the only one that seems to have any semblance of cohesiveness,” Carter muttered. “I’ve never met him, but he must be doing something right. But it doesn't matter. We offer protection in exchange for assistance,” he continued. “We have been under siege for weeks, we need help breaking our magicians out of this nome. In exchange, the Greco-Roman gods have offered sanctuary in Indianapolis, where we can plan our assault on Zeus and Hanpa’s army together.” 

“It’s either that or die alone,” Poseidon shrugged. “Your choice.” 

“That’s great,” Percy muttered. “Really encouraging.” 

The amassed gods all muttered angrily, but Percy knew that they wouldn’t be here listening if there was another option. But before they could come to that realization, the door banged open and the girl from earlier came jogging in. “Carter!” she hissed as she pushed through the crowd. “Carter, it’s-”

“Jaz, what’s wrong?” Carter stepped off the dais and held out a hand as if to steady her. 

“He’s here!” she huffed. “It’s-”

“Who’s here?” Carter asked. 

That was when Percy heard a rumble that sounded a lot like thunder. “Oh,” he realized. 

Poseidon darkened. He turned to one of the boarded up windows and marched over, his aura momentarily shimmering as he raised a hand and the planks covering the window shattered away like thin glass. Percy watched as Poseidon leaned out the window and looked down, scowling. 

Percy joined him, looking down through the night and seeing an army amassing below them, ranks upon ranks of them. And at the head of it all was Zeus, looking up at them and looking dangerous. 

Chapter Text

“I hope you have all made your minds up, because you have twenty minutes before that army comes busting up through the basement,” Poseidon said, drawing his trident and looking more like a god than any of the others. “Now, I’m going to go beat up my little brother, and by the time I’ve finished you all had better be mobilized and ready to book it to Indianapolis.” 

The other gods were quiet, knowing they didn’t have much of a choice if they wanted to make it out alive. The look on Carter’s face finalized it for most of them. “Our magicians will help you get back to your armies. Tell them to flank the army from behind and create an escape route for everyone in the Nome. When we have done that, we make for Indianapolis,” he said, and he got some gruntled nods of approval. 

“We’ll make the journey with that army on our tail,” Percy warned him. 

“It’s only an hour if we fly,” Carter said, hurrying through the hall. “We’ll just have to be faster than them.” 

Percy found himself standing in the midst of the room, bustling with gods and following magicians up to the roofs to get back to their armies. He turned to find Hazel and Reyna looking at him. “Help Carter. Everyone needs to be ready to go by the time the flank clears, or they’re going to get trampled on the way to the Waystation.” 

“Where will you go?” Reyna asked, all business as she hefted her spear. 

“Gotta make sure my dad doesn’t get his ass beat, you know?” he shrugged, following Poseidon back downstairs. 

“Be careful!” Hazel called after him. 

“I’m always careful!” 

“No, you’re not,” he thought he heard her mutter before he jogged to follow Poseidon. 

“What are you doing?” Poseidon said warningly as he approached the ladder. 

“Following you,” Percy said with an innocent smile on his face. 

“It could be dangerous.” 

Percy shot him a withering look, and Poseidon just nodded guiltily. He’d been in much more dangerous situations before, and there was no chance that Poseidon, mortal, had less of a chance of getting hurt than Percy did. 

“Stay close,” Poseidon warned him, stepping onto the ladder as it slowly shuttled them down. His feet landed on top of the Bean, and nearly slipped - it was covered in frost. Poseidon steadied him with a hand on his elbow, but his eyes were fixed on the courtyard beneath them. 

Even without the Master Bolt, Zeus was no less menacing as he watched them descend from the Nome and stand before him in the courtyard underneath the shroud of night. 

“Surrender now and they will live,” he said, low and dark. 

“You and I both know that’s a lie, brother,” Poseidon said, and although his tone was light, Percy knew better than to think that his father wasn’t taking this seriously as he twirled his trident. “I can’t excuse this any longer.” 

“Then you are blind,” Zeus growled. “The gods must survive.” 

“And we will. Just not with you,” Poseidon said calmly. He shook his head sadly. “In your haste to avoid the worst, you end up putting us here. The Fates-”

“The Fates are irrelevant now,” Zeus said, and Percy was horrified to see the smiling slash of his mouth under his beard. “With the Tablet of Destinies, Fate will be whatever I chose.” 

Poseidon was silent for a moment, watching his brother with something close to sadness in his eyes. “Do you hear yourself?” he asked finally. “This has gone too far. Hanpa-” And then he was silent again, his expression of sadness morphing into one of realization. 

Percy’s eyes slid into the darkness of night, searching out the shadow he had seen under the Coliseum in New Rome. He knew what his father must be thinking, and there was a part of him that wanted to believe it: that Hanpa has been controlling Zeus from the beginning, guiding him from the shadows, encroaching on his mind. It was a plausible theory. 

But then a chilling voice spoke what Percy already suspected. “It is too late,” the voice said, like a whisper in his ear, like nails on a chalkboard. He jerked away from the voice, wondering if Hanpa was just on his shoulder. Poseidon shot him a worried glance, and Percy wondered if he’d just imagined it. 

“Too far?” Zeus growled, hefting an electrified spear in one hand. “Or are you just blind to what lies ahead? The way of the gods has been dying for too long. I will not take blame for putting things right again.” 

“By destroying this world?” Poseidon asked, and Percy watched as his eyes flickered around to Zeus’ entourage, a series of hideous monsters of all shapes and sizes. “And remaking it into, what? A world with you as the one and only king?”

“I am the one and only king,” Zeus spat, and Percy sensed that Poseidon had hit a nerve. “I killed Apollo days ago, he cannot challenge me-”

Poseidon let out a bark of laughter. “Apollo is alive, brother. I saw him yesterday. You did nothing but piss him off more, if that was possible. He knows what you’ve done, to his children, to all of them. Three sacrifices, was it? I daresay you’ve only signed your own death warrant.”

Percy had no idea what Poseidon was talking about as Zeus’ expression shifted between disbelief, rage, and something not unlike fear. But Percy steadied Riptide in his hands anyways, knowing that it was only a matter of time before things came to a head. But the point of the sword dipped as there was motion in the ranks behind Zeus… and Thalia stepped out. 

“Ah, there you are,” Poseidon said lazily. “Artemis has been asking after you. What a shame. If only she could see you now.” 

Percy only stared. “Thalia… what are you doing?” 

Thalia took her position off to Zeus’ side and met Percy’s stare with ice-blue eyes. “I’ve seen the future my father will build,” she said firmly, but it sounded jarring to Percy’s ears. Flat. “I have seen it, and I will be in it. You can join us, if you want, Percy. My father will need new gods in his new future. You could take his offer this time. Immortal life. I’m sure he would give it to Annabeth, too, if she sees reason.” 

Percy gaped at her. “What– what are you talking about?” 

“This world is on its way out,” she said. Her voice still sounded flat and unlike her, but her eyes kept boring into Percy’s. Then, she winked. 

Oh. 

That made way more sense. 

He had to carefully school his features so Zeus would not see his expression of relief. Not that it mattered, though, because at that moment, Zeus charged at Poseidon with a guttural roar of fury, and Thalia leapt toward Percy with her own spear raised high. 

Riptide clattered against the wood and Percy took a step back, but Thalia was clearly going easy on him. “Figured we’d need a guy on the inside,” she muttered as she got close to his ear. “You should have seen your face.”

“I was really offended for a second there,” Percy grunted, parrying her jab which might have actually impaled him if he were anyone else. But this was Thalia – she knew him. “What’d you find?”

“Not enough time,” she panted, faking a stumble back as Percy laid a light blow on her shoulder, one that she leaned into enough that the blade cut through her clothes, but not her skin. Leaping close again, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her jacket and slipped it into Percy’s hoodie. “You better hurry up, your ride is leaving.” 

Sure enough, the combined forces of the other pantheons were breaking through the flank far off to Percy’s left with a clattering chaos, and it was like the Nome itself was bulging and spewing out magicians from every window. With that, Percy hit Thalia’s temple with Riptide’s hilt, and she toppled to the ground, convincingly knocked out. 

“FREEAAAAAAK!” 

Freak the griffin and his boat was swinging through the air above their heads. Carter’s head poked over the side, and Percy could see Sadie, Walt, Zia, Amos, as well as Hazel and Reyna behind him. The boat circled lower and lower, skidding the courtyard around him, and Carter waved his hand to beckon him. 

But a sound of pain to his left snapped his attention back. Poseidon’s trident was five feet away from its owner, and Zeus’ spear was embedded in Poseidon’s shoulder. “No!” Percy yelled and, raising Riptide, made a deep slash in Zeus’ arm. 

He didn’t stop to see how much damage he had caused, but kicked Zeus off Poseidon, tugged the spear away, and wrenched Poseidon to his feet. “Come on!” 

Poseidon stumbled, but found his feet. Picking up his trident, he followed Percy up to the boat and, with only what felt like a moment to spare, lifted off into the air. 

“That was close,” Percy muttered as the boat jerked into the air, surrounded by a number of other flying crafts and magicians.

“What part of ‘be careful’ is so confusing to you?” Hazel scowled at him. 

Reyna was still peeking over the side of the boat. “Was that Thalia?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Percy said. “She’s faking it. Double agent.” Remembering the note she had given him, he pulled it out of his hoodie and held on tight so it wouldn’t fly away in the wind. 

“Read it out loud,” Poseidon grunted as Hazel tried to staunch the flow of blood on his shoulder. 

Percy held the piece of paper up and read its contents aloud over the howling of the wind and the shouts of nearby flying chariots bearing magicians and gods and half-bloods alike, different pantheons uniting under the same goal of running for their lives.

“Ruins of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon equals entrance to the garden of the gods plus Tablet,” he read. Poseidon made a sound of understanding. “Zeus used the Tablet to remove ‘belief’ from the gods and return it to the Tablet.” Percy finished, and raised his head. “I don’t really know what that means.” 

“It means the Tablet is the single most powerful object in the universe right now,” Amos said from the helm of the ship, having to shout over the howl of the wind (or maybe a monster that fell from the sky after getting too close to a nearby flying craft bearing a magician). “It means that, in turning every god mortal, Zeus removed the avenue by which belief makes gods gods and stored it in the Tablet.”

“And if Thalia knows where the Garden is, it means Zeus does too. It means the only thing protecting the Tablet are Enki’s wards, which he’s already gotten past once already,” Poseidon explained. 

Percy braced himself on the side of the boat as it dipped in the air against a strong gust of wind. “That means we’re really out of time.” 

“Zeus could use anybody to break past Enki’s wards though, right?” Carter asked, stead on his feet even as the boat shivered through the air. “Why hasn’t he already?”

“He’s targeting Apollo specifically,” Poseidon said, and Percy must have missed some important part of the conversation, but he was more focusing on the fact that every rag Hazel pulled away from Poseidon’s shoulder was bloodier than the last. “He wants the Tablet, but he also wants to cause Apollo pain in the process. The first time, he used some of Apollo’s kids, and killed them.” 

“What?” Percy asked sharply. 

“Then he tried using some of his kids’ mortal parents.”

“What?!”

“They’re fine, they’re at the Waystation. But sooner or later Zeus is going to see it’s easier to take three random souls on our side and that’s that.”

“And there’s still Hanpa to deal with,” Reyna added. “We can let Apollo deal with Zeus, but how are we going to beat an intangible god of evil?”

Silence fell over the boat, accompanied by the roaring of the wind and the sound of the other flying crafts around them, and the pursuing army at their tails. 

It was another hour before Indianapolis came into sight. “They know we’re coming,” Poseidon said, his shoulder appropriately bandaged but still seeping blood. “I told them. But we can’t loosen defenses to let your lot in until we clear the front flank of the nasties out,” he said to Carter. “Direct the others to go around the Waystation and hold the exterior defenses, and we’ll make a stand from the front.” 

The Waystation came into view, tall and imposing as most of the flying crafts split off from Freak's boat. The building was surrounded by what looked like Celestial Bronze chicken wire with watch stations posed every few meters along the top. The watch station right in front of them, the most fortified and at the best strategic point, was full of people, but at his distance Percy couldn’t make out any faces as Carter steered Freak to land at the front entrance, and Percy made the mistake of looking behind them. 

It was like a black cloud of monsters were chasing them, a flying chariot pulled by a team of lightning-winged lions bearing Zeus and Thalia at the front. “That’s a lot of monsters.” 

Freak’s boat touched down and the whole lot of them came tumbling out and, not daring to stop for long, and raced towards the fence. “Come on, come on!” It was Piper, standing on the other side, beckoning them in, Clarisse at her side. Percy huffed and panted, and finally slipped inside the wired barrier and Piper slammed it shut behind them. 

Not two seconds after the gate shut with a clang, Zeus and his chariot touched down about thirty meters from the fence and stared coldly, Thalia at his side. And for a long while, nobody moved. Then there was the clatter of armor, and Percy turned to see Athena and Ares walking towards them from the Waystation in full battle gear. 

Ares hefted his spear and gave Poseidon a once-over, who was panting slightly and holding a steadying hand over his still-bloody shoulder. “Shut up,” Poseidon groused as Ares raised an amused eyebrow and laughed snidely as they slipped back outside the wired barrier. 

Zeus spat on the ground as they approached and stood ten feet from him. Percy edged towards the fence, but needn’t have, for Zeus spoke loudly enough for all the onlookers to hear. “Traitors!” Zeus called out, and his voice reverberated as if the city was covered in a thick shroud of silence. “All of you!”

He was speaking to the people standing on the tall watch station above Percy, who looked up and saw Apollo standing right at the front, bow in hand and watching on in stony silence. 

“Father,” Athena started. “This can end, here and now. We can undo this damage, just tell us where the Tablet is, and all would be forgiven.” 

Percy scowled. In his opinion, that deal was far too good for what Zeus had done thus far. “All would be forgiven?” he repeated quietly.

“He won’t take it,” Poseidon shook his head sadly. “It’s far too late for that. He’s in too deep.” 

Percy looked up at Apollo again, and though he still stonily looked on, Percy thought there might have been something sad in his expression. 

“Empty promises,” Zeus scowled. He looked up at Apollo too. “You would see the gods sputter out like a candle before you did what was necessary. You are weak.” And he spat on the ground. 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Ares said darkly, spinning his spear so the point hit the ground and spun it around him so metal sparks spun around him in a perfect circle. Clearly, negotiations were over. “Leave this place. You have one hour, or we advance and we will tear your army to pieces.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” Zeus said with just as much venom in his voice. He raised his spear and pointed it up at the watchtower where Apollo continued to stand silently. “You are a fool if you think you can stop me now! I am closer to the Tablet now than you can ever hope to be. There is nothing left for you! King of an empty throne, an empty kingdom-”

As Zeus continued to rage, Percy watched, heart in his throat, as Apollo drew an arrow from his quiver and, slowly notching it without taking his eyes off his father, sent a single arrow to land, quivering in the ground at his father’s feet. 

There was something deeply unnerving in the sound that escaped Zeus’ mouth as he watched the arrow shiver three inches from his feet, something between a laugh and a scream of derisive amusement. “You stupid boy. You’ll have to try harder than that-”

The next arrow landed in his shoulder. 

Gasping in pain and staggering back, Zeus let out a guttural roar of fury, all amusement forgotten as he raised his electrified spear to the sky and it sparked wildly. “You think you can kill me, with your sticks and strings? I am the lord of the heavens, the bringer of lightning, the Thunderer! All will kneel before me in the end, Fate is what I choose! You have nothing but luck and the blood of better gods-”

Then he roared in pain again as another arrow sunk into his thigh. 

“The next one is going in your eye!” Apollo yelled from the top of the watchtower, drawing another arrow and taking aim. Something cold shivered down Percy’s spine at the strength of it: though he was not close to Apollo in proximity, he could feel his godly aura from where he stood fifteen feet below. The sun seemed to shine brighter, and though the warmth on his skin seemed to protect him like a shield, the army of monsters behind Zeus shied away, bowing their heads to hide their eyes and wincing at the sudden increase in heat, even in the thick cover of winter. 

Zeus was silent, watching Apollo with fury and hate evident on his expression. Apollo relaxed his bow and removed the arrow, and the two stared at each other in silence. The onlooking crowd of monsters and survivors was as quiet as death. The only sound that reached Percy’s ears was the distant rumble of mortal traffic, oblivious and unbothered. 

“You have one hour,” Ares repeated, and he and Athena turned away, back through the wired barrier. “Leave, or die.” 

Zeus watched them go and hefted his spear, jerking the arrows out of his body with scowls of pain. He turned and walked away, cutting a column through his army. 

Percy watched him disappear, his eyes lingering on the dark road where Zeus’ blood had been spilt, red and glinting in the sun. He had a feeling that, by the end of the day, there would be plenty more to join it.