Chapter Text
I named the Thestral ‘Shadowmere’, because – Prince of the Underworld or not – I guess I never really stopped being a nerd. I’d never heard of their species before, and the name didn’t really sound Greek, so I was left to wonder where Zeus had pulled the strange creature from. Certainly, there were many spheres of magic outside of the purview of the Olympians, but the gods tended to be...territorial, to say the least.
In any case, my steed was clearly intelligent – Percy had taught me some, but I wasn’t exactly an expert rider, and yet Shadowmere seemed to know exactly where I wanted to go. My quest hadn’t come with a convenient prophecy, but I figured Will’s dream was close enough – a metal platform from which the Long Island Sound could be spotted.
Not exactly a small area, but something to start with, at least.
I thought about what little I knew of the Olympians’ plans to go public; that, of late, the Mist had failed to fool mortals a concerning amount of times, leading to several reports of mythical monsters and teenagers wielding bronze weapons. Hecate, ever the elusive one, had failed to heed Zeus’ summons, so the gods could only guess at the causes for the Mist’s thinning. Some believed that some hidden, leftover factions of Gaea’s forces were plotting some kind of revenge, waging war by pitting the mortals against us. Others thought that, perhaps, this was but the prelude to another war on the scale of the previous two.
The more sensible ones figured that the mortals were simply growing aware of our world because theirs was quickly becoming a lot crazier; with all the larger than life superheroes running around, creatures of myth simply didn’t seem as farfetched as they had before – and so, the Mist couldn’t exploit their disbelief as it used to.
Athena’s plan – surprise, surprise – wasn’t a bad one; stay one step ahead of the mortals, capitalize on the fact that they wouldn’t know what to make of ancient gods and monsters existing, and establish a presence on their own terms. Perhaps they would pose as benevolent patrons, or even demand to be worshipped as they had been back in the day. More than likely, given my own quest, they would have us demigods be the ones getting our hands dirty.
That’s where my mind was at when Shadowmere hissed and grabbed my attention; with good reason, too, as the cryptic message Will had given me became clear. Ahead of us, nestled between the clouds, was a boat – not just any boat either, but an honest-to-goodness aircraft carrier, easily over a thousand feet from stem to stern. I shook my head in disbelief – the gods could ridicule and belittle humanity all they wanted, but proof of their cunning and true capabilities floated right in the midst of Zeus’ domain. The boat seemed to have been recently damaged, but repaired enough to remain aloft.
Almost immediately, a pair of strangely shaped airplanes flanked us, switching their thrusters off and activating each a pair of rotors cleverly hidden on their wings. “YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF S.H.I.E.L.D. CONTROLLED AIRSPACE.” –one of them blared over loudspeakers. “PROCEED TO THE HELICARRIER AND PREPARE TO BE DETAINED.”
I pursed my lips, my hand resting on the pommel of my sword, and nodded at the pilot. Shadowmere hissed at the aircraft, but headed straight towards the Helicarrier’s flight deck, where there was already a sizeable contingent of soldiers decked in black and gray combat gear waiting for us. I sighed, wondering what in Hades I’d gotten into now.
Shadowmere touched down gently, red eyes glaring at the uneasy soldiers standing before us. I dismounted, trying not to make any sudden moves.
“That’s a real freaky horse you’ve got there, son.” –said a man’s voice, behind the double line of soldiers. They parted at once, letting two men through, both likely around their fifties. Their age – and facial hair styles, actually – were the only similarities between them, though; the first man wore a black trench coat over navy blue combat fatigues, and had an eyepatch over his left eye, gnarly scarring apparent around it. The second man was familiar, if only from Will’s description – he wore comfy-looking blue robes, held in place by an ornate leather belt, a lush red cloak around his shoulders and a beautiful – and potently magical – eye-shaped pendant hanging by his chest.
“He’s a gift from Zeus.” –I said, flippantly. “Or she? I’m not much of a horse person.”
“The Thestral is female.” –the robed man said. “Males can only have white eyes.”
I raised an eyebrow, and patted Shadowmere’s bony flank. “Huh. Learn something new every day.”
“That you do.” –the man with the eyepatch said. “Like the fact that flying zombie horses exist, for one.” –he said, resigned. “I’m Director Fury, and this is Doctor Stephen Strange.”
I crossed my arms. “Nico di Angelo.”
Doctor Strange narrowed his eyes, examining me. “...demigod?” -he said, less a question than an identification.
I sighed. “That’s me.”
“And a powerful one, at that.” –Strange noted. “It seems we have much to discuss.”
Doctor Strange was something of an enigma. He wasn’t a demigod, Greek or otherwise – not even a far flung legacy, like the wizards and witches descended from ancient children of Hecate – and he wasn’t blessed or sponsored by any divine being that I could tell. Really, he felt no different than any other mortal on the street, except for the fact that he could clearly perform magic, and that my senses were on high alert around him.
After being led by Fury to a meeting room in the bowels of the Helicarrier, Strange introduced himself as Sorcerer Supreme, a title I’d never heard of, but could tell was legit by the slight, otherworldly that ran down my back. He described his ‘job’ as that of a guardian, protecting Earth from magical threats both internal and external.
He also invited me, in no uncertain terms, to form and lead a team of supernaturally inclined heroes.
“Huh.” –I said, sarcastic, ignoring his proposition. “Didn’t see you at the Titanomachy, Doctor. Or the subsequent Giant War, for that matter.”
“I’m rather new to the position.” –he said, apologetic. “And my predecessor was often...uninclined to lend her aid, unless the situation was truly dire. Sometimes, not even then. I’m trying to be a little more...proactive, as Sorcerer Supreme.”
I scoffed. “By recruiting a teenager into the war effort?”
“By reaching out, building bridges. Gathering allies with the kind of expertise I lack.” –he corrected. “I’ll admit, I’m not very comfortable working with others – least of all those on the younger side – but the situation has evolved in such a way that we in the magical community cannot afford to work apart anymore.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The alien invasion, you mean.”
He sighed. “That, yes. But it’s not the only threat on the horizon.” –he said, dour. “I’m sure you’re aware of the situation with the mystical barrier your pantheon calls the Mist?”
“If I’m honest, I thought that’s what this whole thing would be about.” –I admitted. “The Olympians plan to reveal themselves to the mortal world on their own terms – I just figured I’d be running PR, be some kind of figurehead.”
“We’re aware of this plan, but we’re not sure we’re on board, yet.” –Director Fury said. “The Norse god of thunder fighting as one of the Avengers is one thing; asking the public to accept that the entire ancient Greek pantheon exists is a bigger ask – our analysts predict massive consequences and changes to the way people view everything from politics to religion.”
“Make no mistake, disclosure is happening.” –Strange affirmed. “But we must find a way to mitigate the impact it’ll have on people’s daily lives.”
I pursed my lips. “And this...team of yours, that’s your answer?”
Strange nodded. “The Avengers have already proven that the concept has merit.” –he said. “Think about it; it’s barely been a couple of months since absolute confirmation of the existence of extraterrestrial life made every headline in the world. Every projected scenario included at least some measure of hysteria from the populace, but the people saw heroes rise to the occasion and successfully thwart the invasion. However lucky they were, the Avengers proved to people that, worst case scenario, they will always have champions giving their all to defend them.”
“There would be other measures taken, of course.” –Fury added. “Outreach and education programs, training the various militaries and law enforcement agencies in recognizing and facing threats of magical nature, developing tech that can deal with them...”
I imagined an assault rifle equipped with celestial bronze bullets, like the ones Annabeth’s father fashioned for his biplane. I then imagined a whole army of people equipped with these weapons, and shuddered at the implications.
Strange clearly noticed my growing doubts. “Of course, your team would first on the scene, akin to first responders; as I said earlier, we know that you’re the experts on dealing with these kinds of threats. Our role would be to support your team’s endeavors, supplying you with whatever resources you need to ensure there’s no need for...” –he trailed off, glancing at Fury. “...further intervention.”
If Fury noticed the barb, he didn’t comment on it.
I sat back on my chair; this wasn’t what I’d expected out of this quest at all. I thought about what I could’ve possibly done to make the Olympians think I could be any kind of decent leader – to be responsible for anyone’s safety but my own. If the Quest of the Seven had proven anything, it’s that I didn’t play well with others, even when I really, really liked them. I’d made peace with the idea that, aside from a handful of friends and my boyfriend, my circle of trust would always be tiny – that even though I’d become accepted and even trusted by my demigod peers, I wouldn’t ever be like Percy, Jason, or even Thalia.
“I understand that this is a lot to consider.” –Strange said, apologetic. “It’s a significant commitment, especially for someone so young. But we’ve closely studied your profile and accomplishments, along with those of several other candidates, and we believe you’re the best choice to lead this team.”
“Because I’m a son of Hades?” –I asked, well aware of the power I could wield.
“No.” –Strange said, though he was obviously appraised on that front, too. “Because even after all you’ve experienced – after all the loss, the distrust, the suffering – you remain a good person. And that’s the mark of a hero.”
I looked into the older man’s silver eyes, expecting to find the glint of deceit, but what I found instead was honesty – and, oddly enough, something akin to solidarity, as if this mortal could relate to my struggles.
If nothing else, I wanted to know what might make him think so.
But there was something else; for all that this accursed world had taken from me – my mother, sister, and the innocence of my youth, to name a few – it had also given me much. For once, I didn’t know any specifics about the threats ahead, but I did know that I wanted to face them – and that, apparently, I wouldn’t be facing them alone.
I sighed, because I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Still, I made my choice. “Yeah, alright. When do we start?”