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“Call off the bug,” Percy said. “If you’re so strong, fight me yourself.”
Luke had to smile. He knew there’d been a reason he’d liked Percy when he arrived, Kronos’s plans notwithstanding. He was young, but he wasn’t stupid.
Unfortunately for him, neither was Luke. “Nice try, Percy. But I’m not Ares. You can’t bait me. My lord is waiting, and he’s got plenty of quests for me to undertake.”
“Luke—”
“Goodbye, Percy. There is a new Golden Age coming. You won’t be part of it.”
He slashed Backbiter in the air. The portal formed around him in a ripple of darkness. He focused on his destination, stepping forward…
When he opened his eyes, he was back in the training arena. His camp t-shirt clung to his skin with sweat that he’d thought had dried while they walked to the woods. In front of him stood the straw-filled training dummies he’d been disembowelling, looking up at him sadly and pathetically. Backbiter felt heavy in his hand.
What?
Luke blinked. Why had the portal brought him back here? He’d meant to head toward the port where some of their allies had purchased and docked the Princess Andromeda. Maybe he needed to practise the portal magic more. Backbiter was still new—a representation of his devotion to Kronos, but new. He raised it to try again, pointing it at the defenceless dummy in lieu of anywhere else to point it—
And mid-swing, he noticed Percy watching him.
He spun around, defensive. “Percy.” What? What the heck?
Percy was standing at the other side of the arena, looking just as he’d seen him before. Unharmed. Alive. Looking relaxed and even cheered at the sight of Luke, even as his brows still seemed a little furrowed. He looked just as he had before, when he’d stumbled upon him…
“Um, sorry,” Percy said. His face flushed with embarrassment. “I just—”
“It’s okay,” Luke hastened to cut him off. Gods. If Percy didn’t need to die for his plans to succeed, he’d have tried to work with him on not apologising for stupid stuff. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Percy’s self-esteem was in the gutter. “Just doing some last-minute practice.”
It was the excuse that filed onto his tongue on instinct, because it was something he did and said so often anyway, but it made him jolt slightly. That was exactly what he’d said before, wasn’t it?
And Percy confirmed it by repeating exactly what he’d said before, too: “Those dummies won’t be bothering anybody anymore.”
Luke breathed a sigh of relief as realisation came to him.
A vision. In the middle of fighting the training dummies, he’d had a vision of how his confrontation with Percy would go. The kid would guess he was the traitor from the prophecy, that Kronos was to blame, etcetera… And then Luke would set the scorpion on him and escape unscathed. Good. That was all useful, welcome information.
And now here Percy was. Ready to fulfil the vision.
He shrugged, playing his part. “We build new ones every summer.” Just to see if Percy noticed as quickly this time, he twirled Backbiter in his hand, enjoying the boy’s momentary surprise. “Oh, this? New toy. Backbiter.”
“Backbiter?”
Just hearing the name filled Luke with a swell of pride. This was his sword. Granted to him by his lord. Might as well enjoy showing it off. With his imminent death confirmed, it wasn’t like Percy could snitch to Chiron before it was too late.
He turned the sword so Percy could see each side. “One side is celestial bronze. The other is tempered steel. Works on mortals and immortals both.”
“I didn’t know they could make weapons like that.”
“They probably can’t. It’s one of a kind.” He sheathed it and smiled at Percy. He knew he was good enough at sweettalking and manipulating people anyway, thanks to his dad, but the fact that he knew he would succeed only helped his con when he said: “Listen, I was going to come looking for you. What do you say we go down to the woods one last time, look for something to fight?”
Percy put up a preliminary fight. “You think it’s a good idea? I mean—”
Whatever he’d been about to say, Luke didn’t let him. He pulled out the six-pack of Cokes he’d bought from Connor and Travis specifically for this. Percy had mentioned weeks ago that the stuff they provided at camp just didn’t taste the same. “Drinks are on me.”
It worked, of course. Everything went as his vision had promised. He remembered what to say when Percy made his comments, kept his cool and smiled at the right times, and set Percy at ease enough that when the pit scorpion appeared, he took too long to process it. Until he had no chance of escaping.
Again, he tried to bait Luke. Again, Luke just smiled pityingly at him. “Goodbye, Percy.”
He slashed Backbiter through the air, stepped into the ripple of darkness—
And then he was staring at the training dummy again.
What? No!
Luke glared at the dummy and took its head off in one swipe. It rolled along the floor of the arena—and stopped at Percy’s feet.
Percy startled, but when he looked at the defeated dummy, he whistled a little. “I’m gonna guess you won’t be needing that after the end of the summer.”
“We’ll make new ones,” Luke said automatically. He turned his glare on Percy, who took a step back.
“Sorry,” he said—again. He’d said that before. He’d made the comment about the dummies before, hadn’t he? But not in that order. “Um, I was just thinking—”
“It’s fine.” Luke needed him to shut up. His mind was whirling.
What was this? He needed to kill Percy Jackson. All he’d been trying to do was kill Percy Jackson. And it had worked. Twice!
Once? It had happened the same way both times, after all…
Whatever that had been, it couldn’t have been a vision. Percy was already breaking the mould. And Luke knew that the future wasn’t as set as that, but visions tended to be accurate, even if they were misleading. His mom used to ramble a lot about how his destiny was to be the hero that betrayed the gods, right? Vague but true.
And this wasn’t accurate.
What was happening?
Percy was still staring at him. “You good?”
“Fine,” Luke bit out again. “Fine. Want to come to the woods with me? Fight some monsters? I have Coke.”
Not quite the silver-tongued trickery his dad was famous for. Percy shifted. “I’m not sure…”
“Please,” Luke said. “I need to fight something. I don’t wanna do it alone.”
There it was. Percy was a bleeding heart. He was a good kid. It really was a shame that he had to die.
He nodded. “Then yeah. Uh. Sure.” He still sounded nervous, though. Good instincts, too.
Luke took him to the woods. They spoke about… nothing important. He didn’t want to go through his whole spiel again. Maybe this was smarter, anyway. If Percy got to the Underworld again and got judged, Hades would have nothing to explain why Luke had killed him, or what sort of threat was coming. Nothing beyond what the gods already knew from Percy’s quest. Luke set the pit scorpion on Percy and vanished before Percy could even realise what was happening to him. He just wanted to get out of here.
When the training dummy appeared in front of him again, he screamed loudly enough to fill the arena.
Have you not yet deduced what is happening, little servant?
The sound of Kronos’s rasping voice in his head did to Luke what cold water seemed to do to Percy. He stood straighter, strength and awareness sharpening, all his attention turned toward his master. “My lord?”
No wonder you failed me so deeply.
He swallowed. “I am sorry, my lord. I did not expect him to give the shoes to Grover—”
Not during this fiasco. This was only a taste of the disappointment you will prove to be, if I allow this to continue.
Luke glanced around to make sure the arena was still empty. Percy hadn’t approached him yet. Good. “Have you… had a vision, my lord?”
Of a sort. Kronos gave a derisive chuckle. Do you remember what my domain was? I was the king, but my primary responsibility and power was over…
“Time,” Luke breathed, then cringed. Kronos had punished him for interrupting before. “Is this… a time loop? Like Groundhog Day?”
I do not know what a groundhog is.
“It doesn’t matter.” He cursed himself for even mentioning it. “Is there something wrong with this encounter that you wish me to fix? I did as you asked. I killed Percy Jackson.”
I never asked you to kill Percy Jackson. I asked you to take care of him as you saw fit. That was a mistake. You are too weak even to successfully kill a boy.
Luke’s heart hammered. “He didn’t die?”
He survived the pit scorpion. And on his sixteenth birthday, with your help, he will save Olympus.
“That’s impossible. Thalia should be the prophecy child. You promised—” He cut himself off before he could say more. Kronos had suggested that he knew how to bring Thalia back. He hadn’t shared any detailed plans yet, but they both knew that a prophecy child would help them destroy Olympus, and she was the only candidate.
Had been the only candidate.
But she was still a better candidate than Percy.
She was a disappointment, Kronos growled. This spell uses the last of my power, before I am cast back into Tartarus. You will not escape until you have found a way to avert catastrophe. If he lives, the boy will be the child of prophecy. His tone turned amused. There he is now.
Luke looked up. He’d been staring into space so intensely he hadn’t noticed Percy sidle into the arena again.
“Luke?” Percy asked. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He studied him for a moment. Percy was small for his age—suspiciously small for his age, Lee had muttered—and twelve-year-olds were already pretty small. He was a skilled fighter for the amount of training he’d had, but Luke could overwhelm him easily.
Should he even take him to the woods? He’d need to if he were to kill him with the pit scorpion. If he was stung by it here, in the arena, healers would probably come quickly enough to save him. Not that he hadn’t apparently survived before, anyway.
But if Luke didn’t give him a chance to scream…
“Want to spar?” Luke asked with an easy smile. He’d take care of Percy Jackson, alright. Just looking at the boy—so small, so shy, yet apparently fated to undo everything Luke had worked for—made him fume with rage. “That’s why you came, right?”
Percy pulled Riptide out of his pocket. “Yeah. Just wanted to let off some steam. Not sure whether I should go home at the end of the summer or not.”
Luke hummed like he was listening. Like he cared. He adopted a ready stance, and Percy stood opposite him, both hands on his sword’s hilt.
To his surprise, Percy struck first. He had got a lot better with his sword over the months he’d been at camp. Luke had been avoiding him and Annabeth since they got back from the quest, so the guilt didn’t fester and cloud his judgement, but he’d noticed how much Percy had been sparring. And he’d already been a natural. Having a balanced sword—and a fancy gift from a god, at that—could only have helped.
But Luke was the best demigod swordsman of the last three hundred years.
He struck like a snake. Percy blocked the first two times, but then Luke disarmed him with the same move he’d taught him all those weeks ago. If he’d had time, Percy probably would have huffed and said something self-deprecating, but Luke didn’t give him the breath. He swung Backbiter at his head.
The side of his blade cut deep into Percy’s skull. Percy dropped like a stone, his strangled cry of pain echoing through the arena. Blood splattered the sand. He lay there, still twitching, not yet dead, even as Luke could see where his sword had cut through bone and brain.
Luke fixed that. Backbiter scythed Percy’s head from his body in one clean swipe.
He stepped back. The sweat that pasted his t-shirt to his skin was cold and clammy. Percy lay at his feet, his dark curls thick and mattered, the stump of his neck pumping his lifeblood into the sand. Riptide still lay a few feet out of his reach. Maybe with the owner dead, the magic wouldn’t return it to his pocket.
Under other circumstances, Luke wouldn’t have done it. But knowing that Percy had—in another timeline—ruined everything, he felt justified. He kicked his head, his nose crunching under the force of it, and sent it flying toward the edge of the arena.
Toward Silena.
She was staring at him. Then down at Percy’s body. “Luke?” she asked. “What— what the…” She sounded like she was going to throw up.
Luke’s heart pounded, the relief in his veins curdling into dread. Silena was one of the campers he’d been planning to recruit. She was so disillusioned with the gods, despite her affection for her mother’s domains. He’d been buttering her up for months. Now he’d let her see him brutally murder a young camper.
“Silena,” he tried.
She just stared between him and Percy’s corpse.
Luke sighed. He slashed Backbiter and portalled out of there—
—only to appear right back in the arena.
“What?” he demanded. “My lord, I did what you asked! I killed Percy Jackson!”
No answer. There was a faint gasp in the back of his head, like Kronos was catching his breath. That was ridiculous. Titans didn’t need to breathe.
“My lord,” he tried again. “Please. Tell me—”
“Who’s my lord?”
Luke whirled around. Percy was at the entrance to the arena again, looking curious and a little concerned.
Not enough to walk away, though. No. This brat was brave and clever but not clever enough to turn and run when it would save his life, no matter what lessons he’d learnt on his little quest. He walked up to Luke.
“Are you alright?” he asked, stopping just in front of him. Luke breathed heavily. He gripped Backbiter’s hilt like it was Percy Jackson’s throat.
Actually, that was a good idea.
Before Percy could flinch back, Luke punched him.
Percy let out a strangled cry. He staggered back but managed to stay upright. His hand went to his pocket.
“No, you don’t,” Luke hissed. He knocked his arm aside and punched him again, and again, too fast for Percy to react. Percy still scrambled for his sword, so Luke seized him by the arm and twisted it back until his wrist cracked.
Percy screamed.
There were answering shouts. They were still in the middle of the arena, without earshot of other campers. He heard running feet. He had to end this quickly.
Percy tried to get his fists up to block, like they’d practised in hand-to-hand combat, but Luke punched him hard enough to rearrange his face. He collapsed to the ground, and then Luke was on top of him, and he was so much larger than Percy, and his knuckles weren’t bleeding, but they were covered in blood, and Percy’s cheekbones crunched, and at some point Percy stopped screaming.
“Castellan?” Clarisse demanded. She always sounded angry, but right now she sounded more shocked. Maybe a little disgusted.
Luke looked down at Percy’s beaten and broken body. He’d stopped moving. His face was unrecognisable.
Distantly, he registered that storm clouds were gathering overhead. It began to rain. It never rained in camp, and now it was lashing down so hard it stung his cheeks. The winds blew fiercely.
Huh. Was the Stormbringer watching? Were any other gods watching? Did they actually care what happened to their shiny new hero?
He rolled off Percy’s body so they could have a better view. When he glanced up, it wasn’t just Clarisse in the arena. Silena was there too. Chris, Travis, and Connor. Grover. Annabeth.
Annabeth had her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. She was staring at Percy. “Luke…”
Luke reached behind him for Backbiter. When he made his cut and darkness engulfed him again, he didn’t know why he was surprised to find himself still in the arena.
He fell to his knees, still panting from the exertion of beating a child to death with his bare hands. Time might have rewound, but his body hadn’t. His knuckles were still crusted with Percy’s blood.
“I killed him,” he said under his breath, as if to confirm it to himself. He’d done it already, but it felt worse with his fists. It felt worse to have seen Annabeth’s reaction. “I killed him, my lord. What more do you want from me?”
Kronos’s voice came slow and halting. You fool, he said at last. Do you know the power of a martyr? His death is not what I seek in this.
“But if he’s the child of the prophecy,” Luke protested. “If he will destroy us, then he must die.”
He must live. He must join us, Kronos corrected. I want him as my host.
Luke swallowed. Fury erupted in him. He’d suspected that Kronos might want either Percy or Thalia—any more powerful demigod—over him, a thief, but to have it stated so baldly offended him. He was the one who’d set all this in motion. Who’d sacrificed everything.
Maybe that was why he’d been so okay with killing Percy in cold blood to begin with. He wasn’t just a threat to the new Golden Age he wanted to build. He was a threat to Luke’s place in it.
“My lord, I thought I was to—”
You will fail me, Kronos said. I have seen it. You are not strong enough to do what I require, in loyalty or spirit. Percy Jackson is.
“He’s already loyal to the Olympians,” Luke protested. Was he? He wasn’t sure. Percy hung out with Annabeth a lot, and Annabeth thought Athena had built everything good in the world. But he’d heard that Poseidon had called Percy an unforgivable mistake, and it wasn’t like Percy was a big fan of Mr D or Zeus, for that matter.
Then change that. You are the son of the trickster god. Show me you can be useful for once. Or you will never escape this day.
Luke gritted his teeth. There were so many things he could say in response to that, but he didn’t get the chance, because that was when Percy strolled into the arena.
He turned, lifting his sword, and beheaded him in one swift motion. Percy didn’t have the chance to scream this time. His body hit the ground.
“I know, my lord,” Luke grumbled. “I’ll do it again.”
He’d just needed to get his frustration out first. Once Percy had defected and became Kronos’s new darling, he’d never be able to touch him.
One slash of his sword later, and Percy was looking uncertain again. “You think it’s a good idea? I mean—”
“C’mon, Percy, it’s just the woods. I have sugar and caffeine.” He pulled out the Coke. “And I wanna chat to you about something. In private.”
Percy’s eyebrows raised slightly, which Luke counted as a win. He nodded, and he walked with him toward the woods.
“Are you leaving camp?” Luke asked, faking nonchalance.
Percy winced. “Dunno,” he admitted. “I wanna go back to my mom. Especially after what she did to— especially now my stepdad’s gone. But I’m worried about monsters. And”—he pointed at the sky—“him.”
Keeping his gaze on the path ahead of them, Luke tried not to show his sudden interest. “He scare you that badly?”
“I’m not afraid of Zeus,” Percy said immediately, as if that wasn’t basically what he’d just admitted to.
“I wasn’t talking about our great tyrant king,” Luke said, drawling the words with enough disrespect to make Percy smile. “I was talking about your stepdad.”
Percy’s smile vanished. “Oh.”
“He seemed pretty horrible,” Luke admitted, glancing down so he could study Percy’s reaction. “From everything he said on the news during your quest… Well. I figured a stepdad who helps the police hunt down his stepson can’t be sunshine and rainbows to live with. Did your mom finally kick him out?”
He’d messed up. Somehow. Percy had tensed. “You knew about all the stuff Gabe was saying to the news reporters?” he asked. “Were you the one to stick that newspaper under my door?”
Luke froze. He had been, obviously, trying to throw Percy off. But he hadn’t thought the kid would put that together when there’d been so many others who might have known. Maybe Luke was just the first one to have admitted to it.
Percy was smart. Luke had known that. He needed to stop forgetting it.
“What newspaper?” he lied smoothly. “I didn’t check the newspapers; I just watch the news in the Big House with the other senior counsellors sometimes. He was on all those talk shows, right?”
“Oh.” Percy worried his bottom lip. “Yeah. He was.”
“I saw your little speech on the beach as well,” Luke prompted. Gods, he hoped he did successfully get Percy away. As soon as he spoke to any other senior counsellor, he’d learn that they didn’t actually have weekly hangouts in the Big House, and it had just been Luke hogging camp’s only TV to watch the nationwide manhunt for Percy as much as he could. “Talking about how relieved your stepdad would be, and that he’d love to give out free appliances from his store.”
It worked: Percy snorted. “Yeah. He hated that.” His face fell. “I think he took it out on Mom. I didn’t even know—” He paused. “I didn’t even know he was hitting her too.”
Wow. Okay. Luke had done way better on this kid than he’d thought he had. Not that that wasn’t gratifying—the kid was sweet, but he wouldn’t usually spend so much time babysitting one new camper—but it did surprise him. Percy was more trusting than Luke had realised.
Or he just trusted Luke more than Luke had realised.
Good.
“But hey, she finally broke up with him, right?” Luke fished for information. “Is it safe to go home now? Your mom’s alive, he’s gone…”
Percy smiled, a little viciously. “She turned him into a statue.”
That made Luke stop walking altogether. “What?”
“You know what happened to us on the quest? We ran into Medusa, then I sent her head to the gods?”
Luke had known that. He’d forgotten about that. It was more impertinent than rebellious, but now that he was trying to work on it, baby steps… “I remember that from the quest report, yeah.”
“Poseidon sent it back to me. He told me I’d have a choice to make. I chose to give her head to Mom. And she chose to use it on Gabe.”
The silence in the woods blanketed them for a moment. Luke broke it with an appreciative whistle. “That’s awesome. She sounds great.” He knew how much Percy loved his mom, so some flattery wouldn’t go amiss.
“Yeah. She is.”
“I think you should go home, then,” Luke said, surprising even himself. Maybe all the years he’d been a camp counsellor just overtook his months in Kronos’s service for a second. “You have a living mortal mom who loves you. Who can probably protect you, at least for a little bit.” He tried not to sound too bitter. “And you’re not too far from camp, right? If anything goes wrong, I bet you could come straight back.”
He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t have started this conversation. Percy’s eyes lit up. “You think? I don’t wanna put Mom in danger.”
Then come with me, Luke should’ve said. Instead, he said, “Monsters won’t go after her. They’ll go after you.” He shrugged, hoping the gesture seemed as casual and languid as usual. “You’re the only one who can live your life.”
Stock phrases and platitudes, pulled out of the chest labelled “camp counsellor” in his mind that he’d thought he’d slammed shut for the last time. But they did the trick. Percy nodded, looking resolute.
“Thanks, Luke,” he said genuinely. The kid always was genuine. It was a shame he’d had to kill him. It was a shame that he represented all of Luke’s worst nightmares.
Now he wasn’t allowed to kill him.
Now, Luke could mould him into what he needed him to be.
Kronos had called Percy loyal, right? If Luke could make him loyal to Luke over Kronos, maybe he wouldn’t step up as Kronos’s host. And Kronos wouldn’t know that Luke was plotting this sort of thing. He’d noticed that: Kronos could invade his mind, invade his dreams, but he couldn’t read his mind. Just… interpret his behaviour. If Luke was very careful, and very sneaky…
Besides. This wouldn’t be a terrible crime against his lord—not one worthy of significant punishment. Not when Luke was so useful. He’d still get Percy on their side. He’d just manipulate the situation so Percy wouldn’t be willing to go through with everything Kronos wanted from him. And if Kronos only cottoned onto that by the time Luke had Percy’s loyalty, there wasn’t much he could do to him anyway without alienating Percy.
Most importantly: if Luke got Percy to join them, that just made it more likely that Annabeth would see the light as well. The more people she respected who joined the Titans, the better. And when the gods realised that bullying random twelve-year-olds did not foster the sort of loyalty they needed to win this war? That would be sweet.
“I’m leaving too,” he admitted. “I’ve spent what, five years at this camp now? It’s time to move on.”
Percy looked surprised, and disappointed, which Luke noted for later. This was just a trial run, but if his plan was going to work, he needed to know how this would go down.
“Where will you go?”
Luke sighed. “It’s a long story,” he admitted. “And it’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Clear the air before we both left camp.” They were deep in the woods by now. Nobody would overhear them. Except maybe the dryads, but Luke wasn’t worried about trees.
He passed him one of the Cokes to break the tension. Percy smiled a little and started drinking it immediately. “Clear the air about what?”
“Your quest. All the trouble it brought you. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I’m the one who stole the lightning bolt.”
Percy nearly dropped his can. Instead, he squeezed it, until a little of the Coke bubbled over and soaked his shoes. “What?”
Not an awful response. Luke knew he needed to come clean about that now if they were going to move past it, so he said quickly: “I didn’t know Poseidon had a son who would be blamed. I figured they’d never figure out which demigods did it. Believe me, Percy, I didn’t mean to make your introduction to all of this mess so”—he waved a hand around—“messy.”
Percy was still staring at him. “You’ve been avoiding me since I got back,” he realised.
“Guilt,” Luke confessed. “Everything that happened… It’s my fault.”
“Why?”
Okay. Now was his chance to explain. “Did you like your dad, when you met him? Heck, did you like any of the gods you met?”
“What? Not really. That’s not what I’m talking about!” Percy’s eyes were bright with tears. He’d balled his hands into fists. “Why’d you give us those shoes? You were… you’re working with Kronos,” he answered his own question. “The shoes were supposed to drag me and the bolt into Tartarus.”
Hm. He caught onto that faster than Luke had expected. Time for some damage control.
“Not you,” he assured him. “Percy, I know about your dad and Zeus’s rivalry. I knew you wouldn’t be able to use a pair of flying shoes. I was hoping you’d give them to Grover. Satyrs live longer and they’re tougher than demigods”—that last part was a lie—“so I figured he’d survive Tartarus long enough for Kronos to save him.”
“Or did you hope Grover would die because he failed to save Thalia?”
Luke nearly hissed. “He messes up everything he touches,” he snapped. Why was it always Grover that ruined Luke’s life? First he got Thalia killed. Now this was the point that Percy got mad about?
“You’re working with Kronos, trying to overthrow the gods,” Percy said. “You tried to kill me, Grover, and Annabeth already!”
He sighed and snapped his fingers. A pit scorpion appeared.
“I’ll try again,” he decided.
“What?” Percy yelped when the scorpion lunged at him. “Try again what—”
Luke waved his sword. The arena reappeared.
Next time, he said. I’ll figure out how to break it to him.
Ha. That was optimistic. It took twenty-three rounds.
Some of them were just fact-finding missions. Percy really did like and trust Luke, he was starting to realise. And hey, maybe Luke liked Percy back. The prophecy had said he would be betrayed by one who called him a friend, and Luke was starting to realise he would call Percy that. He was a good kid. Impertinent. Sassy. Kind. Smart. The sort of little brother anyone would be lucky to have.
Other rounds ended in screaming matches. If a conversation went south, Luke made sure to kill Percy, just to make sure the loop was declared null and void. The last thing he needed was Kronos deciding that Percy just hated Luke, not the Titans in general, and accepting Luke’s machinations so he could continue to manipulate Percy in his dreams.
But Kronos had been right about Percy being loyal. In the span of those loops, Luke was starting to wonder if Percy just decided to attach himself to literally anyone who had ever been nice to him. He was worried about what his mom would think. Chiron had told him that the Golden Age was a misnomer, and Kronos’s reign had been one of terror. Grover had nearly died because of Luke. Annabeth was horrified at the idea of the Titans.
And how could he overthrow the gods? His dad was a god. Sure, Poseidon had never once supported his mom, had in fact left her to rot in an abusive relationship for years, and had called Percy his wrongdoing, but that didn’t mean Percy was justified in betraying him! The guy had convinced Zeus not to smite him on the spot for existing! He’d given Percy just enough pearls that he could look his mom in the eye and abandon her in the Underworld! Wasn’t that Father of the Year behaviour?
Percy seemed jaded, sure. Hesitant. But Luke realised with a sinking feeling that Percy was fond of Poseidon. Luke remembered being young and feeling like he had to have some measure of loyalty to his dad, sure, but fondness had never come into it. Then again, Percy had only met Poseidon once. He hadn’t yet realised just how deeply the gods could disappoint you.
It was in the middle of one of those pointless debates that Luke finally made some progress.
He was exhausted. How many times could he listen to Percy talk about a deadbeat dad like he owed him something? How many times could he hear Percy praise Chiron like he was the font of all knowledge? It was testing his silver tongue to its limits. At least in this round, Percy wasn’t yelling at him or freaking out. He still trusted Luke, for some reason—maybe he’d sensed Luke’s exhaustion and decided he wasn’t a physical threat—and was instead having a serious heart-to-heart about why he thought his life choices were bad ones.
“—do you know the Titans will be any better?” Percy asked. “The gods aren’t great, yeah. No arguments there. But they’re not hunting mortals for sport, right? Well,” he amended, clearly thinking of something. Ares? Zeus? Any of the gods not used to being told no? “They mostly don’t hunt mortals for sport.”
“I don’t have a choice!” Luke snapped.
It was the first sign of violence he’d given in this loop. That was deliberate. He’d observed that Percy responded better to calm, mentor-like advice, rather than aggressive authority figures. No points for guessing why. And no points for guessing why he didn’t get along with Mr D, either.
Percy inched away from him. The gesture broke Luke’s heart, honestly.
“What am I supposed to do?” Luke asked him. “Let the gods continue ruling the world with their arrogance and carelessness? Look at how miserable our campers are. How many demigods do you think die before they even make it to camp? Look at you,” he insisted. “Are you happy, Percy?”
That put him on the back foot. “Uh… what?”
“Your dad is one of the most powerful gods in existence. But what good has that ever done you? Are you happy with how things are?”
“Well,” Percy tried, “no—”
“I don’t have a choice,” Luke repeated. “I can’t let the gods continue to get away with it. Besides, Kronos won’t let me.” The last part came out too bitter. Too swift. Percy’s eyes widened. “I mean…”
“I heard the way he talked to you,” Percy admitted. “In my dreams.”
Luke swallowed. Right. He remembered that dream where Kronos had stopped halfway through to complain about the demigod trespasser.
“Why would I come with you?” Percy asked. “He talks to you the way Gabe used to talk to me. What did he call you—a servant? A weakling?”
Luke did not like that comparison. “It’s for the best,” he insisted.
But was it?
He was getting tired, sure. His will was draining. But could he really drag this child to Kronos—to the voice in his head? Percy would be his darling. He’d want to keep him on his side at all costs. And Luke knew how smothering Kronos’s presence could be. It wasn’t a bad thing, except—
Except it had reminded Percy of his stepdad.
Why did the words strike such a chord? Luke was so tired now. He’d killed Percy and he’d bargained with him and argued and pleaded and how much longer would it last? When would his life stop revolving around Percy Jackson?
No. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t Percy who had trapped him in this time loop, as much as he’d blamed him at the start.
When would his life stop revolving around Kronos’s whim?
He was tired. Wasn’t Kronos?
Probably, he realised.
Kronos had said that he’d used the last of his power to cast this spell. Once it disappeared, it was gone. Hopefully. Luke was starting to suspect that his master wasn’t powerful enough to do anything like this as it stood right now, so these orders—this magic—came from the future. From that mysterious time of Percy’s sixteenth birthday and the ruin it brought to the Titan forces. When Kronos was stronger, but apparently, even then, not strong enough.
Once this future spell was broken, current-Kronos wouldn’t be able to recast it. Right?
It was a risk he would have to take. At this rate, Percy wouldn’t break before Luke did. Not when he was refreshed every cycle, and Luke was not. Not when he was so damn stubborn.
“I promise you, Percy, it’s for the best,” Luke reiterated. He’d made his decision. “Just… think about it, alright? You don’t have to choose right now.”
Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought there might be a twinge in the back of his mind. Kronos was listening.
“Go home. Be with your mom. Enjoy yourself.” Luke smiled. “You deserve it, Percy. And you deserve a better world. Just promise me you’ll think about it? I’ll drop by your apartment in, shall we say, a month’s time? You can give me your answer then. What’s your new address?”
“I’m not giving you that,” Percy said, eyeing him. “I don’t trust you.”
Smart kid to the end.
“I swear on the Styx that I won’t hurt you or your mom,” Luke said. “And that if you tell me no in a month’s time, I’ll let you stay with her.”
Thunder rumbled. Percy glanced up, then back at Luke, his mouth falling open. There was a shooting pain in Luke’s spine. Kronos was definitely listening.
“Alright,” Percy said. “I’ll… I’ll think about it. Thanks, Luke.”
He didn’t seem to know what he was thanking him for. Neither did Luke. That was fine. They just stared at each other, seated on the forest floor.
Percy jumped to his feet. “I should get back,” he said. “Pack my stuff. Go home. I’ll… uh… I’ll see you in a month?”
“For better or for worse,” Luke agreed. He kept his smile on his face until Percy’s retreating back disappeared into the trees.
Then he bent over double with the pain that shot through his head. It was like white noise. Nails on a chalkboard. The screeching of harpies who’d found a camper out after curfew. His brain pounded.
What are you doing? Kronos demanded. His voice was dimmer now, fainter, right? Please? Luke was risking everything. You betray me now, three years early?
Huh, Luke registered faintly. So he had betrayed Kronos in whatever future Kronos was trying to prevent. Interesting.
“I swore that I’d let him stay with his mother,” he got out through the pain. “Not that either of them would be staying in New York.”
The pain vanished.
Luke licked his dry lips. “This gives him time to reflect. He’s too young and brash to make a decision in our favour on the spot. This way, it’ll eat away at him until he joins us. And if he says no next month, we just kidnap both him and his mom. It’s obvious she can be used to manipulate him. I said I wouldn’t hurt them. We have allies, my lord, that can.”
The silence stretched between them, like the whole woods were holding their breath.
“Is this an acceptable ending, my lord?” he dared to ask.
Use your sword and see, little servant.
Little servant. Maybe Percy was right about the way Kronos spoke to him. It was no better than the gods, but…
Luke lifted Backbiter. He slashed through the air. Darkness rippled out, engulfing him. When it cleared, he was standing on the Princess Andromeda.
He fell to his knees in relief. The time loop was over.
Luke took a deep breath. The salty air stuffed his nostrils.
He didn’t know what to do now. Clearly, Kronos didn’t appreciate him the way he’d thought. He wanted Percy, but Luke couldn’t in could faith hand Percy over to him. Which meant… what?
The gods still needed to be overthrown. Even if Kronos was more like them than Luke had appreciated, he couldn’t let that stand. The future loomed before him, and for the first time in years, Luke had no idea what shape it would take.
But he did know one thing: Kronos had been right. He’d found a way to change to outcome of the war.
In this timeline, Luke would betray Kronos much earlier.