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Chapter Text

PERCY

Percy trudged home from school, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him. It had been one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong: his teachers were unfair, his classmates were obnoxious, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about him, something that made him different in ways he couldn’t fully understand. He just wanted to get home, retreat to his room, and be alone.

When he opened the door to the apartment, the familiar stench of stale beer hit him. Gabe was in his usual spot on the couch, a grimy ashtray overflowing on the coffee table in front of him. He didn’t even look up as Percy walked in.

“Where the hell have you been, runt?” Gabe’s slurred voice cut through the silence.

Percy, exhausted and frustrated, couldn’t help himself. “Oh, you know, just out enjoying my life,” he replied sarcastically, his voice dripping with bitterness. “Thanks for asking.”

Gabe’s bloodshot eyes snapped up to meet Percy’s. In an instant, his face twisted with rage. “You think you’re funny, punk?” he snarled, getting up from the couch with a clumsy but menacing stumble.

Before Percy could react, Gabe was on him, his large, meaty hand wrapping around Percy’s throat with surprising speed. Percy’s breath hitched as Gabe’s grip tightened, cutting off his air. He tried to pry Gabe’s fingers away, but the man was too strong, and Percy’s vision began to blur.

“You little piece of ....” Gabe growled, his voice laced with venom. He pushed Percy against the wall, and with his free hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, dirty knife. Percy’s eyes widened in terror as he saw the blade glint in the dim light of the apartment.

Gabe pressed the cold metal against Percy’s throat, dragging it slowly along his skin. Percy felt a sharp sting as the knife bit into his flesh, drawing a thin line of blood. The warmth of it trickling down his neck made his heart race in panic. He tried to gasp for air, but Gabe’s grip only tightened further.

Just as Percy thought he might black out, the front door burst open, slamming against the wall with a loud crash. Sally stood in the doorway, her face pale with fear and fury.

“Gabe!” she screamed, her voice filled with a mix of desperation and rage.

Gabe barely had time to turn before Sally was on him, her eyes blazing with a fire Percy had never seen before. Years of fear, anger, and love for her son surged through her as she struck Gabe. In one swift motion, she grabbed a heavy lamp from the side table and brought it down on Gabe’s head with a sickening thud. Gabe went crashing to the floor, where he lay still.

Breathing heavily, Sally dropped the lamp, her hands trembling. She turned to Percy, who was slumped against the wall, clutching his throat where Gabe had cut him. Blood still trickled from the shallow wound, but he was alive.

Sally rushed to his side, pulling him into her arms as tears streamed down her face. “Percy, oh my gods, are you okay? I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry.”

Percy could only nod, still too shocked to speak. He clung to his mother, his body shaking as he processed what had just happened.

Percy only knew one thing for certain: Gabe was gone, and his mother had saved him.

Sally knelt beside Percy, her hands still trembling from what she had just done. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a simple-looking pen, pressing it into Percy’s hand. “Take this,” she whispered, her voice filled with urgency. “It will protect you. But only uncap it when you really need to, okay?”

Percy looked down at the pen, confused. It felt ordinary in his hand, but the way his mother spoke made him think there was something more to it.

Percy looked down at the pen, confused. It felt ordinary in his hand, but the way his mother spoke made him think there was something more to it. “What… what is this?” he asked, his voice shaky.

“Just trust me, Percy,” Sally said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s more than it looks. You’ll understand when the time comes.”

He tightened his grip on the pen, nodding slightly, but then his gaze snapped back to his mother. “What about you, Mom? What’s going to happen to you?”

Sally’s expression softened, a sad smile tugging at her lips. She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, her hand lingering on his cheek. “Whatever happens to me, Percy, it’s worth it. You’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.”

“No, Mom—” Percy began, but she cut him off, her tone firm but tender.

“Percy, listen to me. You have to go. You can’t stay here—it’s not safe. There’s a camp, in Long Island. Camp Half-Blood. It’s a place for people like you. You’ll be safe there, and you’ll learn what you need to survive.”

Tears finally spilled over Percy’s cheeks as he realized what she was saying. “But I don’t want to leave you. I can’t just leave you alone…”

Sally’s heart broke at the sight of her son in so much pain, but she knew what she had to do. She pulled him into a fierce hug, holding him tightly as if she could shield him from the world. “I’m so sorry, Percy,” she whispered into his hair. “I’m sorry for leaving you. But you have to run now. Run and don’t look back.”

Percy clung to her, trying to memorize the feel of her embrace, the sound of her voice, but he knew he didn’t have time. He had to go, just like she said. He pulled away reluctantly, his eyes searching hers for some sign that everything would be okay.

Sally looked at him with all the love she had in her heart. “Now go, Percy. Go to Camp Half-Blood. And remember, I love you.”

Percy nodded, swallowing hard as he backed toward the door. He hesitated for just a moment, but then he turned and ran, clutching the pen in his hand like a lifeline.

As soon as he was out the door, Sally’s resolve hardened. She reached for the phone, her fingers trembling only slightly as she dialed the number. She waited, the dial tone echoing in her ear, and then a calm voice answered.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Sally took a deep breath, her voice steady as she spoke. “I need to report a crime… I’ve killed someone.”

Percy ran as fast as his legs would carry him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like fire. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He knew he had to keep moving, but something inside him made him look back, just once.

As he turned his head, he could already hear the distant wail of sirens growing louder, echoing through the streets. The flashing red and blue lights reflected off the windows of nearby buildings, casting a haunting glow on the pavement. His mind raced with fear and confusion. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast?

But there was no time to think—only time to run.

Percy forced himself to look forward again, pushing his legs harder, faster. The pen Mom had given him was still clutched tightly in his hand, the smooth metal warming against his skin. He didn’t know what it could do, but he trusted his mother’s words. She believed it would protect him, and that was enough.

The streets blurred as Percy dodged through alleyways and side streets, his footsteps echoing off the walls as he put as much distance as he could between himself and the apartment. He tried to block out the sound of the sirens, but they seemed to follow him, growing louder, pressing down on him like a weight.

All he could think about was his mom, standing in that apartment, waiting for the police to arrive. The thought of her alone, taking the blame for what had happened, made his chest ache with guilt and sorrow. But he knew she was right—he had to keep going. She had done this to protect him, and he couldn’t let her sacrifice be in vain.

With a final burst of speed, Percy tore through the city streets, heading toward Long Island, toward the mysterious camp his mother had told him about. He didn’t know what awaited him there, but it had to be better than the nightmare he was leaving behind. And so, he ran—faster and faster—until the sirens faded into the distance, leaving only the sound of his pounding heart and the wind rushing past his ears.

As Percy sprinted through the city streets, panic and exhaustion gnawing at him, he rounded a corner too quickly and collided with something—or someone—solid. The impact nearly knocked him off his feet, and he stumbled back, struggling to keep his balance.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Percy found himself staring up at a large, hulking figure, a man who was far too big to be normal. The stranger’s one visible eye—wait, one eye?—glared down at Percy with an unsettling intensity. The man’s features were rough, almost monstrous, and for a split second, Percy could’ve sworn he was looking at a cyclops, like something out of the myths he’d read about in school.

The stranger grunted, a low, rumbling sound that sent a chill down Percy’s spine. 

Fear surged through Percy, but before the man could say or do anything, Percy turned on his heel and bolted, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t look back this time—he couldn’t. All he knew was that he had to get away, as far and as fast as possible.

He ran until the city’s harsh, gray landscape gave way to something greener, wilder. Trees began to rise around him, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms in the twilight. The sounds of the city faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the whisper of the wind. Percy had entered a forest, its shadows deepening as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

His footsteps crunched on the undergrowth, and he pushed through the dense foliage, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The forest seemed to close in around him, the towering trees blocking out what little light remained. But Percy kept running, his instincts screaming at him to keep moving, to find somewhere safe.

Finally, when his legs burned and his lungs felt like they were on fire, Percy slowed to a stop. He leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath, his thoughts racing. He was lost, alone in a strange forest, with no idea where to go or what to do next. The pen his mother had given him was still clutched tightly in his hand, the only connection he had to the world he’d left behind.

As he stood there, trembling and scared, Percy realized that this was just the beginning. The world he thought he knew was gone, and something new—something terrifying—was beginning to take its place. But he couldn’t go back. All he could do was move forward, deeper into the unknown.

As Percy leaned against the tree, trying to catch his breath, a sudden crack of breaking branches echoed through the forest. He tensed, every instinct on high alert. The sound was followed by a deep, rumbling growl, so low it seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath his feet. Slowly, Percy turned his head toward the noise, dread pooling in his stomach.

At first, he thought it might be a bear—or maybe even a moose, judging by the sheer size of the dark shape moving through the trees. But as it stepped into a patch of fading sunlight, Percy’s eyes widened in terror. It wasn’t a bear, or a moose—it was something far worse.

Standing before him, towering over the trees, was a creature straight out of a nightmare. It had the body of a massive, muscular man, but its head was that of a bull, with curved horns that gleamed in the dying light. The creature’s eyes glowed with a malevolent red, and its breath came in harsh, snorting gusts, steam rising from its nostrils.

Percy had heard about creatures like this before, in stories and myths. But he never thought he’d see one in real life, especially not one so terrifyingly real. This was a Minotaur—a beast of legend, now standing only a few yards away from him.

The Minotaur let out a bone-chilling roar, its eyes locking onto Percy with a predatory gleam. The ground seemed to shake as it stomped its hoofed feet, lowering its head as if preparing to charge. Percy’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and the pen in his hand suddenly felt like a laughably inadequate weapon against this monstrous foe.

Percy’s back was pressed hard against the rough bark of the tree, the Minotaur charging at him with terrifying speed. His mind raced, searching desperately for a way out, but there was nowhere to go. The beast’s massive horns were aimed directly at him, and he felt his heart drop. He was trapped.

In that moment of sheer panic, Percy felt something deep within him—a sensation that started in his gut and spread through his entire body. It was a strange, overwhelming energy, something primal and raw. Driven by instinct, he grabbed onto that feeling, pulling at it as if his life depended on it.

Just as the Minotaur was about to reach him, the ground beneath Percy’s feet rumbled. An earthquake, sudden and violent, shook the earth. The Minotaur stumbled, its charge faltering as the tremor threw it off balance. The massive creature veered to the side, missing Percy by inches, and crashed into a nearby tree with a thunderous impact.

Percy gasped, his chest heaving with fear and adrenaline. The earthquake subsided as quickly as it had started, leaving him in stunned silence. The Minotaur shook off the disorientation, its red eyes locking onto Percy once more, filled with fury.

The beast prepared for another charge, and Percy knew he had only seconds to act. He remembered his mother’s urgent words, telling him to trust the pen she had given him. With no other options, Percy made a quick decision.

His hands were shaking as he uncapped the pen, not sure what to expect. But as soon as the cap came off, the pen began to transform, lengthening and widening until it became a full-sized, glowing bronze sword. The weapon felt perfectly balanced in his grip, as if it had been made just for him. The inscription, written in ancient Greek, immediately made sense to him: Riptide.

The Minotaur let out a guttural snarl and charged at Percy again, its massive hooves thundering across the forest floor. Percy tightened his grip on the sword, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over him despite the danger.

The Minotaur collided with him, and Percy was pushed back with incredible force, his feet skidding on the ground. But he held firm, refusing to let go of the sword. As the Minotaur bore down on him, Percy acted on pure instinct. He thrust the sword upward, the blade slicing through the creature’s thick hide.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The Minotaur’s eyes widened in shock, a low growl escaping its throat. Then, with a final shudder, the beast began to disintegrate, its body dissolving into a shower of golden dust that sparkled in the fading light.

Percy staggered back, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his ears. The Minotaur was gone—reduced to nothing but a pile of glittering dust that slowly scattered in the wind. The forest was silent once more, as if the battle had never happened.

He stared at the sword in his hand, still glowing faintly with a warm, bronze light. Percy couldn’t believe what he had just done.

With trembling hands, Percy recapped the pen, watching as it shrank back to its original size. He slipped it into his pocket, his mind racing. Whatever was happening to him, whatever world he had just stepped into, he knew it was only the beginning.

Percy took a shaky step forward, his vision blurring at the edges. The world around him seemed to spin, the trees and shadows blending together into a confusing whirl. His heart was still racing, but now it felt sluggish, each beat echoing in his ears.

The enormity of what he had just faced hit him all at once. He had fought a Minotaur—a creature out of myth, a monster that shouldn’t exist—and somehow survived. But the fear, the exhaustion, and the shock of it all were too much.

His knees buckled, and Percy crumpled to the forest floor. The cool earth pressed against his cheek as he tried to keep his eyes open, but the darkness was already closing in. He could hear his own ragged breathing, feel his heartbeat slowing, but it was all fading, slipping away from him.

The last thing Percy was aware of before everything went black was the faint rustling of leaves above him, and the distant call of some night creature echoing through the woods. Then, the world went completely dark, and Percy fell into unconsciousness, the forest around him quiet and still.

In the depths of unconsciousness, Percy found himself standing on a beach unlike any he had ever seen before. The sky above was a swirling mix of twilight colors, purples and deep blues, with stars flickering faintly in the distance. The ocean stretched out before him, vast and endless, its surface eerily calm. The gentle waves lapped at the shore, their rhythm soothing yet somehow filled with a sense of melancholy.

Percy walked along the shoreline, the sand cool beneath his bare feet. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten there, but it felt strangely peaceful, as if he was meant to be here. The salty breeze tugged at his clothes, carrying with it a familiar scent, one that stirred something deep within him—a feeling of belonging.

As he stared out at the horizon, where the sea met the sky, he heard it: a voice, soft and distant, carried on the wind. It was deep and resonant, like the echo of a powerful wave crashing against rocks, but also tender, filled with a warmth that tugged at Percy’s heart. The voice called to him, a single word that made his breath catch in his throat.

"Son."

Percy froze, his eyes widening as he searched the empty beach for the source of the voice. There was no one there—just the endless expanse of ocean before him. Yet, the voice was unmistakable, and it stirred something deep within him, a longing he couldn’t quite understand.

"Who... who are you?" Percy called out, his own voice sounding small against the vastness of the sea.

The voice responded, seeming to rise from the very depths of the ocean, its tones filled with a strange mixture of pride and sorrow. "I am your father, Percy. But I am weakened, far from you, unable to come to you as I should."

The words sent a shiver down Percy’s spine. His father? He tried to remember, to place the voice, but it remained just out of reach, like a memory from a dream that refused to fully surface. "Why can’t you come to me?" Percy asked, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

"There are dark forces at work in the world, my son," the voice explained, the ocean before him rippling as if in response to the words. "We lost a great war, and now those forces hold sway over much of what was once ours. Monsters roam more freely than ever before, and the balance has been shattered."

Percy felt a cold dread settle over him, the tranquil beach suddenly seeming much more ominous. "What do you mean? What war? Who are these dark forces?"

The voice sighed, the sound carrying the weight of ages. "There is much you do not yet know, Percy. You are only just beginning to understand your place in this world. But there is one thing you must be warned about—a man, though not truly a man. A monster in the guise of one."

Percy’s pulse quickened, his instincts screaming that this was important, that he needed to remember every word. "Who is he? What does he want?"

"He will come to you, my son," the voice continued, the waves crashing harder against the shore as if mirroring the tension in the words. "He is powerful, and he was the one who weakened me, who keeps me from you now. He will offer you help, perhaps even seem like an ally. But you must be wary of him, for his true intentions are hidden."

The voice paused, as if struggling against some unseen force, before continuing, "He has eyes like the sky, and his presence is like a storm—a force of nature, unpredictable and dangerous. You will know him when you see him, but do not trust him lightly."

Percy’s mind raced, trying to grasp the implications of what he was being told. A man—no, a monster—who had the power to weaken his father, who might come to him offering help. The description sent a chill through him, though he couldn’t yet put a face to the warning.

"Remember my words, Percy," the voice urged, the ocean seeming to pulse with urgency. "Be strong, be brave, and trust your instincts. You must survive, my son. The world depends on it."

The voice began to fade, the waves calming once more as the sky above darkened. Percy felt a deep sense of loss, a connection being severed just as he was beginning to grasp it. He wanted to call out, to ask more questions, but his voice failed him, and the beach began to blur, slipping away like sand through his fingers.

As the dream dissolved into darkness, the last thing Percy heard was the voice, now barely more than a whisper, echoing in his mind: "Be wary of him, Percy. The storm is coming."

Chapter Text

JASON

Jason's nightmare began like many of his nights: with the hazy, distorted memories of his earliest childhood. He found himself standing in a shadowy forest, the towering pines looming over him like silent, disapproving giants. The air was thick with fog, and the scent of damp earth clung to his small, trembling frame.

He was just a boy—no more than three years old—but he felt the weight of the world pressing down on his tiny shoulders. His heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled after a woman who moved through the mist like a ghost. She was tall, her hair dark and wild, and her face… her face was blurry, like a half-remembered dream.

“Mommy! Mommy, don’t leave!” Jason’s small voice called out, desperate and fearful. His legs struggled to keep up, each step a battle against the thick, oppressive fog that seemed to clutch at his ankles.

But the woman didn’t stop. She didn’t even turn around. Her pace quickened as if she was running from something—no, as if she was running from him.

“Thalia!” Jason’s voice broke as he screamed his sister’s name. “Thalia, where are you?”

Jason’s small hands reached out, grasping at the empty air. He stumbled, falling to his knees, the cold, damp ground seeping through his clothes. His mother continued to walk away, her figure becoming more and more distant, until she was nothing more than a shadow.

“Mommy, please!” His voice cracked, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

Suddenly, the mist parted, and Jason found himself surrounded by a pack of wolves. Their eyes glowed with a predatory light, their fur bristling as they circled him. He could feel their hot breath on his skin, smell the stench of their hunger.

“Mommy!” he cried again, his voice trembling with terror.

The wolves snarled, baring their teeth, inching closer. Jason scrambled back, his heart hammering in his chest. He was too small, too weak to fight them off. He had never felt so helpless.

“Thalia…” he whimpered one last time, his voice a broken plea.

The wolves sensed weakness. They lunged, their teeth snapping, and Jason closed his eyes, bracing for the pain.

But instead of the bite of fangs, he was suddenly in a different place.

He found himself in the dim, flickering light of a crumbling stone room. The air was thick with the acrid stench of poison and the distant, relentless roar of monsters just beyond the walls. It was a place of despair and death, a place he had tried so hard to forget.

In the center of the room was a little girl no older than seven. Her blonde hair was matted with sweat, her skin pale and clammy, and her breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, were now glazed over with pain and fear.

Jason knelt beside her, his heart pounding with helplessness and sorrow. His hand trembled as he reached out to take hers, the small, fragile fingers barely able to curl around his.

"Jason... it hurts," the girl whimpered, her voice weak and quivering. Tears welled up in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks as she looked up at him, pleading for relief he couldn’t give.

"I know," Jason whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m here. I won’t leave you, I promise."

He tried to keep his voice steady, tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, but the sight of her suffering tore at him. The poison from the monster’s attack was coursing through her veins, burning her from the inside out, and there was nothing—nothing—he could do to stop it.

He could feel her grip loosening, her strength fading away with each passing moment. Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to stay calm, to be there for her, even as every part of him screamed to fight, to do something—anything—to save her.

"I’m scared," the girl whispered, her eyes fluttering as her breaths grew more shallow, more labored.

Jason leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against hers.

"Jason…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "It’s not fair."

Jason’s heart clenched. "I know," he murmured, stroking her hair gently. "It’s not fair at all. But you’re going to be okay. Just hold on a little longer, okay?"

The girl shook her head weakly, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. "You don’t understand," she rasped, her voice barely audible. "My mother… she sent the monster."

Jason froze, his breath catching in his throat. "What… what do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to believe what she was saying.

"Athena," she gasped, her small body wracked with pain. "She’s my mother. She sent the monster to kill me… because I’m too weak. She said I wasn’t… worthy."

The words hit Jason like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling. He stared at the girl, horror and disbelief coursing through him. "No… no, that can’t be true," he insisted, shaking his head as if denying it could make it false. "Athena wouldn’t… she couldn’t…"

But the girl’s eyes were pleading, desperate for him to understand. "She did," she whispered, her voice trembling. "She told me… she said I was a mistake… and that the world is no place for mistakes."

Jason’s mind raced, struggling to comprehend the cruelty of what he was hearing. He had always known the gods could be distant, uncaring, but this… this was monstrous. How could a mother—how could any parent—do something so vile to their own child?

"I’m sorry," the girl continued, her voice barely more than a breath now. "I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough."

Jason’s heart broke anew, the weight of her words crushing him. "No," he whispered fiercely, his voice thick with emotion. "Don’t say that. You’re strong. You’re so strong…"

But it was too late.

Jason’s heart shattered as he watched her slip away, her breaths slowing until, finally, they stopped altogether. Her hand went limp in his, the warmth of life leaving her small body.

Jason sat there, frozen in shock and despair, as the final vestiges of life left her body. The weight of her words bore down on him like a crushing tide, threatening to drown him in sorrow and rage.

He wanted to scream, to lash out at the injustice of it all, but all he could do was sit there, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. The knowledge that a god—her own mother—had condemned this innocent child to die was more than he could bear.

As the nightmare began to dissolve into darkness, Jason felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness and fury. The image of the little girl’s face—her final words—etched themselves into his soul, a burning reminder of the cruelty that even the gods were capable of.

It would fuel his anger, his determination to fight against the injustices of the world—even if it meant standing against the gods themselves.

Jason’s dream shifted, plunging him into another memory—one that had haunted him many times before. He was standing in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with the scent of old wood and something more acrid, like burnt herbs. Luke Castellan stood before him, his expression a twisted mixture of bitterness and resolve. Jason remembered every detail vividly, as if it had happened yesterday.

Luke’s eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were filled with a deep, smoldering anger that made Jason uneasy. It was the kind of anger that had been building for years, festering and poisoning his every thought. Luke leaned in closer, his voice low and venomous as he spoke.

“The gods cursed her, Jason. My mother—she was once brilliant, a powerful seer. But the gods, they twisted her gift, turned it into a curse. Apollo, the very god of prophecy, let her mind unravel. And why? Because she dared to reach too far. They drove her insane, Jason. She was nothing but a pawn in their games.”

Luke’s voice grew more intense, more persuasive. “You think they care about us? We’re just tools to them, weapons they can use and discard when we’re no longer useful. The Titans—they’re offering something different, Jason. A chance to end this cycle of abuse, to break free from the gods’ control. You don’t have to be their puppet. You can choose to fight back.”

Jason looked at Luke, searching his face for any sign of deceit, but all he saw was a man who had been pushed too far, who had lost too much. A man who had once been a hero, now turned into something darker by the very forces he had tried to serve.

“Join us, Jason,” Luke urged, his voice almost pleading now. “Together, we can bring down Olympus. We can make sure that no one else has to suffer like we did. We can build a world where the gods can’t hurt us anymore.”

Jason's nightmare shifted, transporting him to another haunting memory—one that was etched deep into his soul.

Bodies of demigods—children like him—littered the ground, their lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. The scent of blood and smoke filled the air, and in the distance, he saw a massive figure—Kronos, the Titan King—towering over the wreckage, his scythe dripping with the blood of those who had fallen.

Jason looked down at his hands. They were no longer the small hands of a child, but the hands of a young warrior, stained with blood. He felt the weight of his sword in his grip, saw the bodies around him—people he had known, people he had sworn to protect.

“You did this,” a voice hissed in his ear, cold and accusing. Jason turned, but there was no one there. Just the empty battlefield, echoing with the screams of the dying.

He looked up at Kronos, and the Titan’s eyes were on him, full of malice and dark amusement. “You could have saved them, Jason,” Kronos said, his voice booming across the field. “You let them die.”

“No!” Jason shouted, his voice raw with denial. “I didn’t want this! I was trying to save them!”

But the battlefield didn’t care. The bodies remained, the blood continued to pool at his feet.

Jason fell to his knees, clutching his head as the world spun around him, the horrors of his past and the weight of his choices crushing him from all sides.

The earth shook violently, jolting Jason awake. He shot up from his makeshift bed in the cabin, the walls creaking ominously around him. Instinctively, his hand reached for the golden coin he kept close, engraved with the letters IVLIVS. With a practiced flick, he sent the coin spinning through the air. As it landed in his palm, it transformed into a golden gladius, its blade gleaming in the dim light.

Jason emerged from the cabin, the silence of the woods pressing in around him. The forest, usually alive with the sounds of night, was eerily still. The only noise was the soft scrape of his gladius as he dragged it across the ground, ready for whatever might come.

Suddenly, a faint thud reached his ears, the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the forest floor. Jason's heart raced as he ran toward the source, his senses heightened by the stillness. He pushed through the underbrush and froze when he saw the figure on the ground.

A small boy, no older than twelve, lay motionless among the fallen leaves. His jet-black hair contrasted sharply with his tan complexion, and above his head, a faint, glowing trident hovered—a sign unmistakable to those who knew what to look for. Jason's eyes widened as he took in the symbol of Poseidon, realizing the significance of what he was seeing.

His gaze dropped to the boy's neck, where dried blood marked a shallow wound. Panic surged through Jason as he knelt beside the boy, quickly checking for signs of life. He pressed two fingers to the boy’s throat, relieved when he felt a faint pulse. The boy was alive, but just barely.

Golden dust, faint but unmistakable, was settled on his jet-black hair and clothes. The dust glimmered softly in the muted light and Jason’s mind was already racing, trying to figure out which monster it could have been.

As Jason knelt beside the boy, the skies suddenly opened up, releasing a torrential downpour. The rain fell in sheets, drenching them both in seconds. Jason noticed something remarkable—the boy's wounds, once crusted with dried blood, began to heal. The cuts slowly closed, the rain seeming to wash away the damage as if it had never been there.

The boy stirred, his breathing quickening as he came to. Panic flashed in his sea-green eyes as he scrambled away from Jason, his movements frantic and unsteady. In a flash, the boy pulled out a pen, uncapping it with a trembling hand. To Jason's surprise, the pen transformed into a bronze sword, glowing faintly in the stormy light.

Jason held up his hands in a calming gesture, but the boy’s eyes were wide with fear and shock. His gaze locked onto Jason’s, and his voice quivered as he spoke. “You—you have eyes like the sky.”

Jason’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Who told you about me?”

The boy hesitated, then swallowed hard. “My father.”

Jason’s expression darkened. “Poseidon. Listen, kid, the gods are manipulative. They’ll twist the truth and use you for their own purposes. You can’t trust them—not even your father.”

The boy scoffed, tightening his grip on the sword. "And why should I trust you?"

Jason met his gaze steadily. "You shouldn’t. You should only trust yourself."

The boy's expression remained guarded, but the fear in his eyes started to shift to something more controlled. Jason, sensing the boy was calming down, asked, "What monster was it that you fought?"

"The Minotaur," he replied, his voice steadying.

Jason nodded slowly, a grim look crossing his face. "Your father played a role in creating that monster. The gods, they’ve got their hands in everything, twisting things to suit their own plans. You need to be careful, Poseidon has included you in his plans."

The boy hesitated, his sword still held defensively. "Are you a demigod too? Like me?"

Jason gave a small nod. "Yeah, I am. The name’s Jason Grace." He paused, letting the tension in the air settle a bit. "I’m the son of Jupiter."

The boy lowered his sword slightly, his sea-green eyes still wary. "I’m Percy Jackson."

Percy hesitated before continuing, "I’m leaving. I need to get to camp—Camp Half-Blood."

Jason looked at Percy, his expression somber. "Percy, Camp Half-Blood was destroyed."

Percy shook his head, disbelief flashing across his face. "No, that’s not possible. My mom told me that would be my safe space."

Jason’s jaw tightened as he relived the memory. "I was there, Percy. It wasn’t just damaged—it was completely obliterated. Everything was wiped out. There’s nothing left." He paused, carefully hiding the fact that he had played a part in the destruction. "The monsters, the chaos... they left nothing behind."

Percy’s eyes widened, a mix of confusion and anger flashing across his face, but before he could respond, Jason continued, his voice filled with a grim resolve. "There was another camp—Camp Jupiter, where I’m from." Jason rolled up his sleeve, revealing the 15 lines etched into his forearm, each representing a year of service, and a lightning bolt symbol that marked his divine heritage. "It was completely obliterated, too. No survivors."

Percy stared at the marks on Jason's arm, trying to process what he was hearing. "But... my mom said Camp Half-Blood was supposed to be safe."

Jason felt a pang of pity for the boy. He could see the hope slipping away from Percy, and he knew he had to offer him something, some shred of safety. "There’s another place," Jason said gently. "A hidden spot—Bunker 9. A few demigods stay there. It’s not much, but it’s a safe place, and I can take you there."

Percy hesitated, torn between distrust and the need for somewhere secure. But in the end, with nowhere else to turn, he nodded, still clutching his sword as if it were the last piece of solid ground beneath him. Jason gestured for him to follow, leading the way through the darkened woods toward what little refuge they had left.

Jason hesitated before speaking, knowing the trust between them was fragile. "Percy, your mother would be the best person to accompany you. She’d want to keep you safe."

He could see the doubt in Percy’s eyes, the wariness that hadn’t left since they met. Percy narrowed his eyes and replied, "I don’t have much of a choice. My mom’s in prison."

Jason’s expression softened with understanding, realizing just how alone Percy must feel. "I see," he said quietly. "Then I’ll help you get to Bunker 9. You don’t have to trust me, but I’ll make sure you’re safe."

Jason's gaze drifted to the sky, his eyes distant and filled with unspoken thoughts. After a moment of silence, he looked back at Percy, determination hardening his features.

"I swear on the River Styx," Jason said solemnly, his voice steady, "I’ll keep you safe."

The air seemed to crackle with energy as he made the vow, a binding promise that neither could break.

“Hungry?” Jason asked.

Percy nodded.

”I know a place nearby.”

Chapter Text

PERCY

It was not long before they arrived. The front porch was infested with wind chimes. Shiny bits of glass and metal clinked in the breeze.

Jason had barely tapped the door when it swung open. "Luke!" the old lady cried happily.

"Come in!" she insisted. "I have your lunch ready!"

Jason was the first to walk in, and Percy who was confused, hesitantly followed.

Percy raised a questioning eyebrow at Jason. He’d mentioned they could stop somewhere to eat—not that he had an entirely different identity.

"This way, my dear!" Ms. Castellan steered Jason towards the back of the house. "Oh, I told them you would come back. I knew it!"

She sat us down at the kitchen table. Stacked on the counter were hundreds—maybe millions—of Tupperware boxes with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches inside. The ones on the bottom were green and fuzzy, like they'd been there for a long time. Jason picked those ones up and tossed them out in the trash.

Ms. Castellan started humming as she got out peanut butter and jelly and started making a new sandwich.

Percy's heart sank a little. Based on the state of the counter, she seemed more than a little unhinged.

"Have you seen Luke lately?", Jason asked.

"Oh, yes! They told me he would never come back. But I knew better." She patted Jason’s cheek affectionately, giving him peanut butter racing stripes.

"Who is Luke?", Percy asked.

"He's an old friend," Jason said.

Percy squinted, urging Jason to continue. With a sigh, Jason explained, "May Castellan fell in love with Hermes, and they had a son named Luke. But at some point, Ms. Castellan tried to become the Oracle, hoping to replace the old, withered corpse that held the position. The gods cursed her with insanity for it. Now, she’s trapped—unable to handle the prophecies that flood her mind."

“Luke feared the glowing eyes and the prophecies. He left, but his love for his mother was stronger than anything. He would have killed the gods themselves to get her back—he nearly did. The curse still remains… it’s beyond healing.”

Jason’s voice carried a hint of admiration that sent a shiver through Percy.

"Your son, Luke, where is he?", Percy asked worriedly.

Mays eyes lost focus.

"He was so young when he left," she said wistfully. "Third grade. That's too young to run away! He said he'd be back for lunch. And I waited. He likes peanut butter sandwiches and cookies and Kool-Aid. He'll be back for lunch very soon. . . ." Then she looked at Jason and smiled. "Why, Luke, there you are! You look so handsome. You have your father's eyes."

"Luke was so kind," Ms. Castellan murmured. "He left to protect me, you know. He said if he went away, the monsters wouldn't threaten me. But I told him the monsters are no threat! They sit outside on the sidewalk all day, and they never come in." She picked up the little stuffed Medusa from the windowsill. "Do they, Mrs. Medusa? No, no threat at all." She beamed at Percy this time. "I'm so glad you came home. I knew you weren't ashamed of me!"

Percy shifted in his seat. Percy imagined Luke sitting at this table, eight or nine years old, and just beginning to realize that his mother wasn't all there.

Ms. Castellan gasped. She doubled over, and her cookie tray clattered to the floor. Percy and Jason jumped to their feet.

"Ms. Castellan?" Jason said.

"Ahhh," she straightened. "My child," she rasped in a much deeper voice. "Must protect him!"

She grabbed Jason by the shoulders and began to shake him as if to make him understand. "Not his fate!"

Then she stopped. She looked Jason deep in his eyes, which were glowing green and met icy blue, and muttered, "A hero's fate."

Suddenly, Ms. Castellan collapsed. Jason caught her before she could hit the edge of the table. Percy managed to get her into a chair.

"We should leave," Jason said, his tone firm.

Percy’s eyes flashed with determination. "There’s no way we’re leaving her like this."

Jason’s voice turned cold. "There’s nothing you can do, Percy. She’s beyond repair."

Frustration boiled over in Percy. "So you’re just gonna leave her here, making sandwiches until she dies?"

Jason didn’t hesitate. "Yes."

Percy clenched his fists. "That’s not right. I’ll find a way."

Jason's expression softened for a moment, his voice laced with resignation. "Percy, I’ve tried. There is no way."

Percy and Jason left the house, though Percy’s reluctance was clear. He didn’t want to leave her alone.

They made their way back to the forest, the tension lingering between them as they moved toward the bunker. The shadows of the trees stretched long in the fading light, guiding them to their next destination.

Suddenly, the sharp echo of footsteps cut through the forest, slicing through their conversation with a jarring urgency. Jason’s reflexes were immediate; he flipped IVLIVS and snatched the sword that materialized from thin air. At the same moment, Percy uncapped his ballpoint pen, readying himself.

Percy waited for what seemed like centuries until he saw a woman emerge. She possessed chocolate-brown hair, cut choppy and unevenly, with thin strands braided delicately down the sides. Her eyes were a mesmerizing kaleidoscope, seeming to shift in color with every glance, reflecting the depths of the earth and the sky. She locked eyes with Jason, a tempest of anger swirling within her gaze.

Percy also glanced at the dagger she held tightly, hoping it wouldn't be necessary.

Percy decided to say something since Jason and the newcomer were locked in a staring contest. He raised his sword in a friendly gesture.

"Hey, fellow demigod, right? Nice to meet you."

The woman's voice, smooth and commanding, cut through the air with a hypnotic quality. "Drop your weapons," she said, her tone imbued with an undeniable authority. Percy heard Jason's sword clatter down onto the floor. Percy raised his eyebrows towards Jason in confusion.

"Charmspeak. A rare ability from Aphrodite, it makes you do what you most desire."

Percy frowned. He wasn’t sure why Jason had dropped his weapon.

"Listen, Lady, there's no need to use your mind magic. We don't want to fight."

Apparently the Lady wasn’t in the mood for talking as her hand flicked with swift precision, sending the dagger hurtling towards Jason at bullet-like speed. The blade gleamed ominously as it sliced through the air, cutting a deadly path. Jason’s reflexes were sharp, though, and with a swift, practiced motion, he deflected the dagger with his forearm. The blade skidded off his defenses, grazing his shoulder with a sharp sting.

Dark clouds amassed on the horizon. A palpable tension hung in the air, charged with static electricity. The wind, once a gentle breeze, now stirred with increasing urgency, rustling leaves and bending branches in its wake.

Every instinct in Percy’s body screamed danger.

The storm calmed. Percy wasn’t causing the storm. He hesitated, his eyes searching for Jason’s. In that moment, he saw something unsettling deep within Jasons gaze—something dark and powerful, lurking just beneath the surface. It was a flicker of raw intensity, a force that felt both ancient and overwhelming, Percy could feel that Jason was struggling to hold back a storm of immense power. Percy’s breath caught in his throat,

“Jase,” he said, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

Jason ignored him, looking straight ahead.

"I'm taking Percy to Bunker 9," Jason stated, his voice unwavering as he locked eyes with the woman.

Her reaction was immediate—shock, disbelief, and anger flared across her face. "You can’t be serious," she whispered.

Jason didn’t flinch. "It’s the only place he’ll be safe," he replied, his tone brooking no argument. He wasn’t asking for her permission—he was telling her what was going to happen. The irony wasn’t lost on him, taking Percy to a place she had once fiercely defended against forces he had once served.

His gaze bore into hers, searching for any sign of resistance. The memories of battles fought, betrayals endured, and losses suffered hung like a noose in the space between them.

“I’ll look after him,” she said finally, nodding toward Percy. Her gaze briefly shifted to Jason, a clear message of defiance in her eyes, as if to tell him he wasn’t welcome. There was a tremor of fear in her voice, betraying her underlying anxiety about Jason's presence.

"Piper McLean," she introduced herself, her voice steady but guarded.

Before Piper could say more, Jason stepped closer, his voice cutting through the tension with quiet authority. "I swore an oath to get him there," he said, leaving no room for debate. His gaze remained locked on hers, challenging her to oppose him.

"There's no need to shield him," Jason added, his tone firm but calm. "Percy is Poseidon’s son. He can handle himself."

Percy knew he was expected to be strong, but inside, he felt unprepared and inadequate.

“That’s what worries me,” Piper said, her voice laced with concern. "The two of you together..."

Chapter Text

JASON

They were just a few minutes away from the bunker when Jason decided it was time to rest by the creek. Percy was quietly skipping stones across the water.

Jason’s gaze shifted to Percy, his eyes filled with the weight of his decisions. "I thought I could save more people," he admitted. "I didn’t want more kids to die or live the way I did."

"Luke promised a world where we wouldn’t have to live in fear. I believed it was the only way," Jason continued, his voice tinged with regret. "But he lied. The Titans are cruel."

His eyes burned with a fierce determination, a fire stoked by years of regret and the realization of the true cost of his choices. "I will see the Titans destroyed."

"And the gods?" Piper asked quietly.

Jason didn’t respond, his silence speaking volumes.

Percy came rushing back, breathless, his expression a mix of urgency and alarm. "Jason, Piper!" he called out, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. "I just spotted a Hydra near the creek!"

The news shattered any remnants of calm. Jason’s eyes widened, his hand instinctively moving to his weapon. Piper’s face went pale, the weight of the situation sinking in instantly.

"How close?" Jason demanded, already scanning the area, his body tensing as he prepared for what was coming.

"Too close," Percy replied, his voice tight with worry. He had already uncapped riptide.

The Hydra emerged from the water, a monstrous, slithering mass of scaled bodies and writhing heads. Its enormous, serpentine form moved with a terrifying grace, each of its five heads swaying in different directions, searching for prey. The creature's scales were dark green, almost black, glistening with a slick, oily sheen in the dim light of the forest.

Each head bore a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, dripping with venom, while its yellow, reptilian eyes glowed with an unnatural intelligence and malice. The Hydra’s massive body seemed to pulse with a dark energy, and the ground trembled slightly with each of its heavy, clawed steps. As it drew closer, the stench of decay and sulfur filled the air, a sickening reminder of the deadly power this ancient creature wielded.

"How do we fight it?"

Jason’s mind raced as he processed Percy’s question, the urgency of the situation pressing down on him. He tightened his grip on his weapon and met Percy’s gaze. "The Hydra’s heads regenerate if you cut them off," he said, his voice steady but urgent. "The only way to kill it is to burn the stumps before they can grow back."

"We don't have fire", Piper muttered frustrated.

He turned to Percy and Piper, his voice firm and urgent. "I’ll summon lightning to burn the stumps. It’s our best shot at stopping it."

As the Hydra slithered closer, its many heads snapping viciously, Percy stepped forward with a newfound resolve. Jason, tense and ready to summon lightning, suddenly noticed Percy’s eyes narrow in concentration. Without a word, Percy raised his arms, and Jason felt a shift in the air.

To Jason's astonishment, the water in the creek began to churn violently, lifting from its bed obeying Percy’s command. The entire creek seemed to defy gravity, rising up into a swirling mass that hovered above the ground. The Hydra hesitated, its heads turning in confusion as the water formed into thick, twisting tendrils.

With a swift motion, Percy directed the water toward the Hydra, the liquid tendrils wrapping around the beast’s limbs and necks with the strength of iron chains.

The Hydra struggled against the watery restraints, hissing and snapping, but for a moment, it was held fast.

"Now!" Percy shouted, straining to keep control as the water roared around them.

Jason and Piper sprang into action. They moved as one, slashing at two of the Hydra’s heads with deadly precision. The severed heads fell to the ground, writhing as they hit the earth. Jason didn’t hesitate—he called upon the storm, summoning a bolt of lightning that crackled through the air with deafening force. It struck the stumps, searing them shut with a burst of energy. Jason reveled in the raw intensity of the battle, finding a twisted bliss in the chaos.

But just as they started to gain the upper hand, the Hydra let out a roar of fury and broke free of Percy’s watery grip. The creature lunged forward, its remaining three heads snapping at them with renewed vigor.

"Three more!" Piper shouted, dodging one of the Hydra’s strikes.

The Hydra’s remaining heads lashed out furiously, and suddenly, one of them recoiled and spewed a thick stream of poison into the air. Jason’s eyes widened as he shouted, "Be careful! poison!"

Piper deftly dodged a snapping head, but she was caught off guard by the poison. The noxious cloud hung suspended in the air, shimmering ominously, but miraculously, it did not touch her. Piper looked around, bewildered, as the poison seemed to hang in place, its deadly essence held at bay.

Jason’s gaze flickered to Percy, who was visibly drained but still standing. Jason could only guess how the poison had been thwarted, but he suspected Percy’s control over water might have played a role. He didn’t have time to question it further as the Hydra continued its rampage.

They moved quickly, focusing on the remaining heads. With a series of swift, coordinated strikes and bursts of lightning, Jason, Percy and Piper managed to sever the last three heads. Each head fell, writhing, as they summoned another bolt of lightning to sear the stumps, ensuring the Hydra could not regenerate.

As the final head disintegrated, the Hydra's massive form began to break apart, the creature’s body dissolving into a cloud of gold dust. The ground trembled and crackled as the Hydra’s essence was absorbed into the earth.

Exhausted, Jason and Piper turned to find Percy slumped against a tree, his energy spent.

Percy lay unconscious, his face taking on an unsettling greenish hue. Jason, concern etched in his features, turned to Piper urgently. "Do you have any ambrosia?" he asked, desperation in his voice.

Piper nodded and quickly retrieved a small, white square from her bag.

She placed the ambrosia in Percy’s mouth. The white square began to immediately improve Percy’s condition but Percy remained unconscious, his breathing steady but slow.

Jason glanced at Piper, "He’s still out. We need to get him to the bunker. It’s not safe here."

Piper agreed, her face set with determination. Together, they carefully lifted Percy, their movements careful but quick. They started the trek to the bunker, the weight of the recent battle and Percy’s condition hanging heavily over them. As they moved through the forest, Jason kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings, while Piper focused on supporting Percy, hoping the ambrosia would soon bring him back to consciousness.

Piper looked at Jason with a mixture of concern and disbelief. “Percy controlled the poison,” she said. “That kind of power is unnatural.”

Jason’s expression hardened slightly. “Percy saved your life, you should appreciate that,” he replied.

He knew all too well the burden of having extraordinary powers—how they could turn you into a weapon in the eyes of others or make you feel like a monster.

Piper led the way through the forest, guiding Jason and the unconscious Percy toward the bunker. After a tense walk, they finally arrived at Bunker 9. The structure was massive, resembling an aircraft hangar but built from enchanted wood.

As they entered, they were greeted by a depressing scene: all the surviving demigods were gathered inside. Only a handful. Their eyes turned toward Jason with a mixture of suspicion and disdain, the tension palpable. Jason avoided their stares, his head looking forward and his eyes blank.

A large, burly man stepped forward to meet them. He was an imposing figure with a metal arm, a stark reminder of the past. Despite the visible signs of his injury, Beckendorf greeted him with a surprising kindness.

"Jason," Beckendorf said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Let’s get him to the infirmary."

Beckendorf led the way, his metal arm moving with practiced ease despite its heavy appearance.

They reached the infirmary, a well-equipped room with beds and medical supplies. Beckendorf directed them to a bed where Percy could be laid down. Despite the chilly reception from the other demigods, Beckendorf’s demeanor remained calm and supportive as he helped Jason and Piper settle Percy in for treatment.

As they settled Percy into the infirmary bed, Jason took a deep breath, his voice heavy with regret. “Beckendorf,” he began, his eyes finally meeting the other man’s, “I’m sorry about Silena. I know she was—”

Beckendorf’s expression tightened at the mention of his lost partner. Silena, his beloved, had been a beacon of courage and warmth, and her death had left a deep scar on him.

"She died a hero."

Beckendorf's lips curved into a sad smile, a look of profound sadness and acceptance mingling in his eyes. It was clear that while he appreciated the acknowledgment, he had not yet fully come to terms with her loss. His gaze remained distant, as if he were still grappling with the reality of her absence.

Beckendorf's gaze remained steady as he looked at Jason, a mix of resignation and understanding in his eyes. “I never blamed you for what happened,” he said quietly.

He paused, as if weighing his words carefully. “The choices we all make have a cost. Silena’s death was a price too heavy."

Piper looked at Jason, her expression tinged with sadness. "Drew's been waiting for you," she said quietly.

Jason’s face softened at the mention of Drew, who was like a sister to him.

Beckendorf offered a faint, reassuring smile. "Come on," he said, clapping Jason on the shoulder with his good arm. "It’s time to meet some familiar faces."

As Jason followed Beckendorf through the bunker, he suddenly felt a forceful shove against his shoulder. Stumbling, he looked up to see a man with curly hair glaring at him. Jason instantly recognized him—Travis Stoll.

Travis's eyes were wild, filled with a mix of anger and grief, his expression almost delirious. "You," Travis muttered, his voice unsteady. Jason could see the pain etched into every line of his face, a pain that had only deepened since the loss of his brother, Connor.

Jason steadied himself, not retaliating, understanding the depth of Travis's torment. “Travis—” he began, but the words felt hollow, knowing nothing he could say would ease the hurt of losing someone.

Travis launched at him. The blows came fast and hard, each punch fueled by the overwhelming grief and anger Travis had been carrying since Connor’s death. Jason didn’t resist—he stood there, absorbing the hits. He deserved this.

“Enough!” Beckendorf’s voice boomed through the room as he rushed forward, grabbing Travis and pulling him off Jason. "Fighting isn't going to bring him back, Travis"

Jason’s mind was somewhere else.

Piper gently took Jason by the arm, her eyes filled with concern as she led him away from the scene. She didn’t say a word, but her sadness was evident in the way she guided him back to the infirmary, her grip tender.

A few minutes later, Beckendorf re-entered.

"A meeting is taking place. Everyone has to be there."

"There are things we need to discuss", his gaze lingering on Jason.

Before anyone could respond, there was a sudden stir from the bed across the room. Percy groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open.

"I received a prophecy," Percy said anxiously.

Chapter Text

PERCY

Do you seriously believe that runt?” Clarisse, the brown-haired, muscular daughter of Ares, exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table. The surrounding campers shifted uneasily.

“It’s not possible,” she continued. “The gods are hiding, and the oracle hasn’t been seen since the camp was destroyed.”

“Clarisse, remember that Apollo himself appeared in Percy’s dreams,” Katie Gardner interjected. “Apollo controls prophecies; the oracle was merely a mouthpiece for his words.”

“Percy, could you repeat the prophecy for us?” Beckendorf asked.

The room fell into a heavy silence, all eyes on Percy as if he were a zoo exhibit. He took a deep breath, ready to recount the prophecy.

3 shall journey to the titans’ thrones

Bane of olympus, turned ash and bone.

Travel west to seek a seer’s aid

Free a Titan from their curse laid

Betrayed by one with a treacherous lie

Olympus’ fate chosen by sea or sky.

An oath to seal with a final breath

Cruel reign ends in a sea of death.

"Long prophecy, right?" Percy said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Everyone absorbed the weight of the prophecy, the room heavy with the gravity of its implications. Travis spoke, his voice strained, "It seems like there’s a lot of death in this."

Katie, trying to offer some solace, countered, "But it also suggests that there’s hope. The prophecy points to a chance for something better. It says the bane of Olympus will die and that the cruel reign will end. Surely, that’s a positive sign."

Jason, grimly delivering the harsh reality, said, "A reign also ends when all those being reigned over are dead."

A new, aged, and wise voice cut through the tension. "It’s futile to try and interpret it all now," the voice said, calm and authoritative. "What matters is how we face the challenges ahead."

As Percy looked toward the source of the voice, he saw an old centaur. The recognition dawned on him, and he whispered, "Chiron... the teacher of heroes."

His face was etched with lines of enduring pain. Each shift or movement seemed to bring a new wave of discomfort, but his eyes remained sharp and focused.

“Fate can change,” Chiron said, his voice both reassuring and grave. “Nothing is set in stone, young Perseus. The only certainty is that you will lead the quest and have the power to choose who will accompany you.”

Percy knew the prophecy spoke of Jason, whether he trusted him or not. Jason was meant to come. "Jason, you’re coming with me on the quest," Percy declared firmly.

Clarisse cut in sharply, her voice thick with accusation. "The prophecy speaks of betrayal, and you choose Jason? He’s the one it warns you about."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, casting a shadow of doubt over the decision.

"I know what I’m doing," Percy shot back. "And while we're on this topic, does someone want to tell me the full story? Anyone?"

Silence fell over the room. No one met Percy’s gaze, and Jason’s demeanor remained calm, unreadable. The tension thickened as Percy’s anger simmered just below the surface.

"Somebody better explain right now before I..." Percy’s voice tightened with rising fury, his patience unraveling.

Chiron, sensing the volatile atmosphere, stepped in gently. “Perhaps it’s best if you step away from the meeting for now, Percy.”

Percy looked around, realizing he couldn’t trust anyone here. He felt isolated, surrounded by secrets and half-truths.

Fury churned within Percy, making his chest feel tight and heavy. With a stormy expression, he stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing with a relentless rhythm down the cold, empty hallway. The walls seemed to close in on him as he fled the charged atmosphere behind him, desperate to escape the seething tension.

As he ran, the pounding of his feet against the floor was almost drowned out by the cacophony of voices in his head. The whispers of doubt grew louder with each step, their words twisting and amplifying his anger and confusion. The voices clashed in his mind, sowing seeds of uncertainty that echoed off the walls, intensifying his sense of isolation.

Percy’s breaths came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself faster, seeking any release for his mounting rage. The sound of his own heartbeat pounded in his ears, mixing with the relentless, sinister voices that seemed to follow him, feeding his turmoil and making the hallway stretch endlessly before him.

Percy stormed into the training area, his frustration boiling over. He seized a training dummy, its rough surface barely holding up under the onslaught. With each swing of his sword, he struck with increasing ferocity, the clang of metal ringing out as he vented his anger. The dummy, battered and splintered, bore the brunt of his rage, each cut and blow a release for the turmoil churning inside him.

Percy continued his assault on the training dummy, lost in the rhythm of his anger, until his arms felt numb and heavy. Sweat dripped down his face as he panted with exhaustion.

A soft voice broke through the storm of thoughts swirling in Percy’s mind. “It won’t help,” the girl said gently. Percy turned, his eyes meeting those of a pretty Asian girl about his age. She looked like a typical mean girl but her gaze held a warmth and compassion that was different from the wary or judgmental looks he'd received from others. She wasn’t looking at him with fear or disgust, just concern.

“Fighting won’t help you find the truth,” she added, her tone soothing and calm. As she stepped closer, her presence seemed to offer a brief reprieve from the fury still simmering within him. “Talking helps, you can tell me anything,” she offered, her voice sincere. “I’m here to listen.”

Percy sighed, the weight of his frustration heavy in his chest. “Everyone looks at me like I’ve grown a third head,” he muttered, his irritation seeping into his words. “And nobody has explained anything since I got here. I’m just trying to make sense of it all, but it feels like no one is willing to give me a straight answer.”

She nodded, her expression earnest and understanding. “I’ll tell you the truth about anything you ask,” she promised, her intentions seemingly good.

Percy hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Who are you?”

She gave him a warm smile. “My name is Drew Tanaka,” she said. “Daughter of Aphrodite.”

Percy frowned slightly, the thought crossing his mind. “Were you using charmspeak on me?” he asked, wary.

Drew shook her head, her gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t do that,” she replied, her voice firm and a little rough.

Percy could tell she was trying to be nice, and though part of him was still on guard, he found himself wanting to believe her.

Percy’s mind was racing as he tried to make sense of everything. “What did Jason do?” he asked, his voice edged with uncertainty. “And start from the beginning.”

Drew’s expression shifted, her gaze growing distant as she prepared to explain. “Before... Before everything,” she began, her tone softer than before. “There used to be two camps: Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood. Jason was raised in Camp Jupiter. He’s been there since he was three, and he used to travel between the two camps. We lived in harmony back then—visiting each other, sitting around campfires, watching fireworks.”

A sad chuckle escaped her as she reminisced about those times. "It feels like a lifetime ago. Everything was simpler before... everything fell apart."

Percy listened closely, trying to piece together the puzzle.

“But then,” Drew continued, her voice growing heavier, “a war started brewing between the gods and the Titans. Jason was always there to protect us, especially the younger demigods like me. He went on so many quests, so many missions, but each time he came back, he was... different. It’s like a piece of him was missing every time. Still, he did everything he could. He even brought me to camp after my satyr companion died and talked to me every day until I felt at home. But seeing so many kids die, and watching the gods leave us in the middle of their conflict, it broke him.”

Drew’s words hung in the air, and Percy could feel the weight of them. “What happened next?” he asked, needing to know more, trying to understand where Jason being a traitor fit into all this.

Drew’s expression darkened. “His friend Luke, a son of Hermes, convinced him that joining the Titan Kronos was the only way to bring peace to the kids, to protect us from the gods’ mess. Jason believed it—he thought the gods were a disease, and that this was the only way to save us.”

Percy’s heart pounded as he absorbed the story, still trying to figure out if Jason was someone he could trust. Percy could remember the way he spoke about Luke with admiration.

“The Titans won the war,” Drew replied, her voice somber. “Both camps were destroyed, and there was a lot of death. Jason was our only hope. When he left, the balance tipped. Now, Bunker 9 is where we live because the world outside is too dangerous. Kronos' minions hunt us down and the gods won’t protect us .”

Percy hesitated, the question heavy on his mind. "Can I trust him?" he asked, searching Drew’s face for any sign of doubt.

Drew didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she replied firmly, her eyes locking with his. “Jason’s made mistakes, but his heart has always been in the right place. He’s done things he regrets, things that haunt him, but everything he’s done was to protect us. He’s not a traitor, Percy. He’s just... lost.”

Percy nodded slowly, still trying to process it all. Drew’s certainty eased some of his fears, but the nagging doubt remained. He needed to see for himself if Jason was someone he could rely on.

Drew noticed Percy’s conflicted expression and snapped, “Let’s go get something to eat. It’ll help clear your head.” Her tone was more commanding than comforting, the edge in her voice revealing she wasn’t used to offering kindness.

Seeing Percy’s surprise, Drew’s expression softened, and she quickly added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound harsh.” She hesitated, her usual confidence wavering. “I’m just… not great at this.”

Percy offered a small smile, appreciating the effort. “It’s okay. Let’s go eat.”

As Percy entered the dining pavilion, he immediately felt the weight of the room’s atmosphere. Demigods cast him wary glances, their conversations dropping to hushed whispers. He noticed that everyone subtly steered clear of him, creating an uncomfortable bubble of space around him.

Drew and Percy found a quiet corner in the dining pavilion, away from the uneasy stares of the others. Drew made an effort to ease the tension, offering a reassuring smile as she gestured to the food spread out before them.

As Percy began to eat, he glanced at Drew and asked, “Why do the others stay away from me? I get that I’m new here, but it feels like they’re keeping their distance on purpose.”

Drew sighed and looked around before replying, “It’s not just that you’re new. Jason’s past actions have left a lot of scars. And it’s partly because you’re extremely powerful, and that makes people nervous. They don’t know you well yet and are unsure of your intentions."

"But there's another reason," Drew continued, her voice wavering slightly. "I’ve got a reputation for being pretty mean. I’m sorry about that. I know it doesn’t help with how people see you, but I wanted..."

She paused, taking a deep breath before meeting Percy’s gaze. There was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "I just wanted a friend, a new beginning," she confessed quietly.

Percy had already pieced it together in his mind, but hearing Drew’s honesty made him feel a bit lighter. He smiled, genuine and reassuring. "I believe in second chances. If you're trying, that counts for something."

Drew seemed taken aback by his response, but then she returned his smile, a touch of relief in her expression.

"You know," Percy added, "you’re the only one who’s really been honest with me since I got here. I think that makes you my friend."

Drew’s smile widened slightly, the sincerity in Percy’s words breaking through her usual guarded demeanor. For the first time in a while, she felt like she was finally making the fresh start she’d hoped for.

She stood up to move, but was suddenly bumped by someone passing by. Startled, she instinctively curled up into herself, a protective gesture that revealed a hint of her past struggles. Her earlier happiness momentarily flickered away, replaced by a look of raw emotion. Percy could see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she fought to maintain her composure, forcing a smile as she looked up at him.

Percy’s anger surged when he saw the man who had bumped into Drew laughing, his tone mocking and cruel. Percy hated bullies more than anything. Fury gripped him as he moved to confront the man, his voice sharp and filled with an edge of rage. “Hey, apologize!” he demanded.

The disturbance drew the gaze of everyone in the dining pavilion. As the crowd watched, Drew placed a trembling hand on Percy’s arm, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s alright,” she said softly, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’m used to it. You don’t need to make a scene.”

The injustice of the situation, combined with Drew’s attempt to downplay her hurt, made him seethe. He felt like tearing down the place.

Percy’s anger didn’t wane as he turned back to Drew. “It’s not right,” he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. Percy’s eyes began to glow a sickly green, a dangerous light flickering in their depths.

Percy noticed Drew’s face blanch as she stared at his glowing eyes, her fear evident despite her attempt to hide it. The sight cut through his anger like a knife, and a sickening feeling twisted in his gut. Realizing the effect he was having on her, Percy forced himself to stop, his eyes slowly returning to their normal sea-green hue.

A blonde girl with strikingly intense grey eyes and princess curls approached the table where Drew and Percy were sitting. Her gaze, sharp and penetrating, seemed to pierce through the air. Percy, already on edge from the earlier commotion, misinterpreted her stern expression and purposeful stride as confrontational. He braced himself for a confrontation, his body tensing as he prepared for what he feared might be another unpleasant encounter.

The blonde girl, her intense gray eyes fixed on Percy, suddenly splashed a wave of water toward him.

Percy remained dry, effortlessly repelling the water with a mere thought and clearing it from Drew as well.

“Annabeth”, Drew muttered to Percy knowing he was new. Percy could hear the defeat in her voice caused by the previous encounter. He would figure out how to comfort her later.

A look of satisfaction crossed the girl’s face, as if her suspicions about Percy’s abilities had just been confirmed.

She met Percy’s gaze with a newfound understanding, her words carrying an unexpected weight. “Son of Poseidon,” she said quietly, the name heavy with unspoken meaning.

Her look softened, no longer challenging but empathetic, as though she recognized the burden he carried and was silently assuring him that he wasn’t alone.

“I came to offer my help as a daughter of Athena. With one spot still open for the quest, I believe it’s crucial that you choose wisely.”

Annabeth’s expression shifted into a more serious one, her voice now low and urgent. "I also came here to warn you. Percy, you need to be careful about Jason. From experience, I can tell you that he can't be trusted."

Percy met her gaze, and despite her sincerity, he felt a flicker of doubt. Her words carried the weight of truth, but he struggled with the idea as Drew had told him otherwise. "You think you know everything, don’t you?” he snapped, his frustration evident. “I need to make my own decisions. I don’t need your help.”

Annabeth’s eyes softened with concern. "I just want to protect you. I’m not saying this to hurt you."

But Percy shook his head sharply, cutting her off. “I don’t need you to protect me from Jason. I need to figure this out for myself.”

Percy looked around, searching for Jason. “Where is Jason?” he asked, his voice tinged with anger. “I need to talk to him about the quest.”

Annabeth's voice was curt and unyielding as she replied, "Jason is with Chiron." Her tone left little room for warmth or empathy.

“I’ll go see Jason,” he said, looking around at the others. “No need for anyone to come with me.”

Percy found him right outside the infirmary. Jason stood with a tense posture, his face a mask of stoic resolve. Chiron, seated in his wheelchair, looked pained but focused, his eyes serious as he spoke.

Chiron’s voice was firm and unyielding. “It’s you or the boy, Jason."

Jason’s expression hardened, and he nodded resolutely.

Percy stepped forward, interrupting the tense exchange. “What’s going on here?” he demanded, his voice firm.

Chiron glanced at Percy, his expression weary. “It’s a matter of serious concern, but for now, I’ll leave you two", Chiron rolled away on his wheelchair.

Percy’s eyes burned with intensity as he met Jason’s.

"Drew told me everything. The reason they fear you. But she said to trust you. How can I?"

Jason’s expression remained guarded, a shadow of regret crossing his face. “They’re right not to trust me,” he said quietly, the weight of his own words hanging heavily in the air. “But they don’t know the whole story, not even Drew.”

Percy’s frustration flared. “Then tell me."

"I'm not ready to explain," Jason replied, his voice tinged with sorrow. "I wish it were as simple as everyone thinks.”

“I need a straight answer, Jason. Are you evil or not?”

Jason hesitated, his eyes locking onto Percy’s. “I’m not evil, Percy,” he finally said, his voice firm yet laced with something deeper—guilt, perhaps, or pain. “But I’ve made choices... choices I can’t undo. Whether you can trust me... that’s up to you.”

“Is a sword evil?” Jason questioned, staring out at the rain falling steadily beyond them. His voice was distant, almost as if he was talking more to himself than to Percy. “A sword is just a tool. It’s not good or evil—it’s what it’s used for that matters. I was just a weapon in the wrong hands.”

He paused, letting the rain’s rhythmic patter fill the silence. “I didn’t choose to be what I was, Percy. But I’m choosing now to be something different.”

Chapter Text

JASON

Jason and Percy looked around the dimly lit room, the walls lined with strange tools and machinery. The faint hum of power resonated through the air. “What is this place?” Percy asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

“This is where we’ll find—”

Before he could finish, a cold, robotic voice echoed through the room, cutting him off. “Who dares come to the mighty operating room?”

Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the ominous tone. “Well, this should be interesting,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Percy, on the other hand, instinctively reached for his sword. “I don’t like this,” he whispered, eyes narrowing as he scanned the room for the source of the voice.

Suddenly, a small figure burst into the room. A short Latino man with curly brown hair, clad in overalls and a tool belt, made a dramatic entrance, flames dancing in his hands. The fiery display was impressive—until he tripped over his own feet and tumbled to the ground with a loud thud.

The flames flickered out as he sat up, rubbing his head. “I meant to do that,” he quipped with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “No need to get all heated about it.”

Jason chuckled, crossing his arms. “Nice entrance, Leo.”

Leo grinned wider. “Thanks! I’ve been practicing my fire acrobatics. Clearly still working on the landing, though.”

"So what brings you here?"

"Percy needs some advice for his quest."

"Advice?" Leo's robot voice activated with a dramatic tone.

"Indeed. Young man, advice is costly. To be precise, I require the head of Medusa, a drop of drakon's blood, and a pinch of salt."

Percy glanced at Leo with a smirk and replied, "Well, I've got the head of Medusa and the drakon's blood, but I'm afraid I couldn't find any salt."

Jason cracked a small smile.

Leo tilted his head and said, "Alright, enough jokes. Tell me about the quest."

Percy began recounting the prophecy to Leo.

“Oof, that’s not good,” Leo said, his brow furrowing. “So, who’s the third?”

Jason shifted uncomfortably. “That’s why we came to you.”

Leo nodded thoughtfully. Apparently not recognising that Jason wanted Leo to come with them. “Both of you need to trust the third member completely. They should have tactical knowledge and the ability to keep you two in check, especially since you’re both children of the Big Three.”

Percy looked puzzled. “How do you know that?”

Leo flashed a grin. “I have cameras.”

He then grew more serious. “The prophecy mentions three of you heading to the Titans, but it also says you need to go west first to seek a seer’s help. You might end up finding your third questmate on the way.”

He fidgeted with a small mechanical device, creating a series of intricate movements and whirring noises.

Leo took a break and scratched his head, looking a bit puzzled. “I’m a little confused, though. The prophecy doesn’t mention a deadline. That could mean you have some flexibility with when you start your journey or how you find your third member. Timing is always key. That's pretty much all I could figure out."

Percy nodded, “Thanks for the advice, Leo. I appreciate it.”

Leo gave a reassuring smile. “No problem at all. There’s a pool nearby where you can relax for a bit. Do some Poseidon-y things. I’ll hold Jason back for a while to have a talk with him."

As Percy walked away, Leo turned to Jason with a serious expression. “So, where do I even begin?” he asked, his tone laced with concern.

“First off, I just want to say I missed you, man,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of warmth and hurt.

Jason met Leo’s gaze with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry for leaving you in a tough spot, I missed you too.” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

"These circumstances aren't good, Jason", Leo began.

"What if Percy dies on this quest?" he asked quietly.

Jason's eyes hardened with resolve. "I won’t let that happen," he said firmly.

Leo's expression grew serious. "The prophecy mentions a 'sea of death,' and wording like that is crucial," he said.

"Fate be damned, I will protect him" Jason declared with determination.

Leo agreed, accepting Jason's resolve,

"Annabeth and Piper are strong candidates for the quest."

"And you?" Jason asked.

"I’ll think about it," Leo said. "I’m tied up with a large project at the moment."

"Go ask Percy what he thinks," Leo suggested.

As he spoke, Leo pulled up a surveillance camera, revealing Percy, who had been sitting underwater—thanks to his ability to breathe beneath the surface—for a while now.

Jason spotted Percy sitting next to the swimming pool, engaged in conversation with Drew. As he approached, Drew greeted him with a warm, sisterly hug and cheerfully announced that it was Percy’s birthday—August 18th. She playfully teased Percy about officially becoming a man at 13, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Drew handed Percy a gift, which turned out to be a bracelet. "This isn’t just any bracelet," she explained with a grin. "It makes holographic rainbows and, if you throw a drachma into it, you can talk to anyone you want."

Drew then turned to Jason with a mischievous smile. "So, do you have a better present for him?" she challenged.

Jason, caught off guard and surprised by the revelation, realized he had completely forgotten it was Percy’s birthday. Or at least he hadn’t known in the first place.

Percy thanked Drew with a genuine smile, his eyes lighting up as he admired the bracelet.

Turning to Jason, he said, "I’m going to use this to call my mom."

Drew chimed in, her tone supportive, "You can use it to call her while you’re on your quest too."

Percy nodded, his expression determined. "I will," he promised, already imagining the comfort of hearing his mother’s voice.

"I'll call you too," Percy added, addressing Drew. Jason noticed a genuine, if restrained, happiness in Drew's expression, finding her endearing.

Percy stood up by the edge of the pool, his foot idly kicking the water as he pondered their next steps. The ripples danced around his feet, mirroring his thoughts. He turned to Jason, his expression serious. “I’ve got a feeling we should start the quest today. Annabeth will be joining us—she’s smart and trustworthy, which Leo said we need.”

Before Jason could respond, Drew interjected. “Not Annabeth.”

Percy’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

Jason’s eyes were hollow, and he remained silent. Drew continued, her voice softening. “She blames Jason for her sister’s death.” She glanced at Jason with reassurance. “But it wasn’t your fault, Jason. It never was.”

Jason was no longer by the pool; he found himself in a starkly different place, staring blankly at something far in the distance, a thousand yards away. The world around him felt surreal and detached. His hand, now trembling uncontrollably, was weighed down by an incredibly frail, tiny arm. The arm seemed delicate, almost as if it could snap with the slightest pressure.

When he looked over to the source of the arm, he expected to see Drew, but the familiar figure was replaced by someone else entirely. It was Julia. Her once bright blonde hair was now damp and hanging limply around her face. Her eyes, which should have been full of life, were instead etched with a deep, haunting pain. The expression on her face was a haunting mix of fear and sorrow, her features drawn tight as if the very weight of her suffering was too much to bear.

A deafening roar of monsters rumbled from just outside, the sound reverberating through the air like a monstrous growl of anguish. The walls around Jason, made of crumbling stone, seemed to tremble in response to the ferocity of the noise.

Jason's voice cracked with desperation as he called out, "Julia?" His eyes searched for reassurance, but the response he received was filled with dread. "I’m scared, Jason," Julia’s voice trembled, a fragile whisper that seemed to pierce through the chaos around him.

Overwhelmed by a torrent of emotion, Jason's laughter erupted uncontrollably, a maniacal sound that seemed to come from a place deep within him. It was a jarring, dissonant contrast to the tears welling up in his eyes. His mouth twitched erratically, caught between the impulses to laugh and cry, unable to decide which emotion to fully embrace. His chest heaved with the force of his sobs, each convulsion shaking his body as he struggled to contain the tidal wave of grief and madness surging within him. The raw, unrestrained laughter mingled with the tears, creating a haunting cacophony of sorrow and insanity.

“I can save you,” Jason promised, though his words came out strained and ragged. “I won’t fail again.” His resolve was evident, but as he spoke, his throat suddenly tightened painfully, closing up as if constricted by an invisible force. He struggled for air, the simple act of breathing becoming a daunting challenge. His breaths came in shallow, desperate gasps, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

As the panic set in, his entire body began to shiver uncontrollably. The coldness of fear gripped him, causing his limbs to tremble and his teeth to chatter. The noise seemed to close in on him, merging with Julia's fearful voice. The oppressive sound seemed to suffocate him, heightening the sense of terror that was closing in around him.

In the midst of the overwhelming chaos, Jason's senses sharpened unnaturally. Despite the roar of monsters and the oppressive atmosphere, he could hear a distinct, unsettling silence—the exact moment when Julia’s heartbeat ceased.

It was as if the sound of her heartbeat had been a thread tying him to reality, and now, with its abrupt stop, everything seemed to unravel. The silence was deafening, filled with a haunting finality that left Jason gasping, his heart pounding with a sense of profound loss and despair.

Jason found himself back at camp, standing in the midst of a scene that felt all too real. Before him, a young Annabeth stood with eyes blazing, her face twisted in anger and grief. The camp’s familiar surroundings seemed distant and unreal, overshadowed by the raw intensity of her accusation.

Her voice was a sharp, accusatory blade, cutting through the air with each word. “You let my sister die,” she said, her tone heavy with a mix of fury and sorrow. The words struck Jason with the force of physical blows, each accusation a searing pain that pierced his heart.

“And you left her corpse to rot,” Annabeth continued, her voice trembling with emotion. The image of Julia’s lifeless body and the abandonment it implied was like a lead weight pressing down on Jason’s chest.

“We can’t even bury her,” Annabeth’s voice broke as she uttered the final accusation. The profound grief in her eyes was a mirror to his own torment, reflecting the depth of the loss.

Each word was a cruel twist of the knife, magnifying Jason’s sense of failure and helplessness. The accusations echoed in his mind, each one amplifying the suffocating weight of his guilt and sorrow, leaving him paralyzed in a storm of remorse and anguish.

Jason looked down at his arms, the weight of his burden painfully evident. He was carrying Julia’s lifeless body, cradled gently but with a gravity that made every movement a struggle. As he flew through the air, the miles seemed to stretch infinitely.

The scene shifted as he approached Julia’s father’s home. As Jason descended, the father emerged, his eyes widening in horror as he took in the sight of his daughter’s lifeless form. The father’s reaction was instantaneous—a primal, guttural screech that tore through the air. The sound was raw and anguished, a visceral expression of grief that struck Jason.

It was a sound Jason would never forget, a heart-wrenching wail that conveyed the profound agony of losing a child. It resonated deeply within him, reverberating through his mind with relentless intensity. The scream seemed to echo endlessly, a haunting reminder of the father’s unimaginable pain.

Jason stood there, motionless, as the sound replayed in his head like a relentless loop. Each iteration of the scream was a fresh wound, an unending reminder of the heartbreak and failure that marked that tragic moment. The grief of that sound lingered, filling the silence with a sorrow that Jason could not escape.

Jason was jolted back to reality with a sudden, disorienting shift. The vivid, haunting scenes from his memory melted away, and he found himself in the present moment. Drew was nearby, her face streaked with tears, her body shaking with the intensity of her sobs. The raw, guttural sounds of her crying seemed to pierce through the haze of Jason's emotional numbness.

Jason, in stark contrast, stood motionless. His expression was a blank mask of emotional detachment, his eyes devoid of tears. The capacity to cry had been drained from him, leaving him in a state of profound, aching emptiness. His face was impassive, as if he were disconnected from the overwhelming sorrow that surrounded him.

As he stood there, he saw Piper rushing toward him, her movements frantic and urgent. Percy was guiding her, his own face a mixture of concern and determination. Piper's eyes were wide with worry, her steps hurried as she tried to bridge the gap between them. The sight of her, combined with Percy's supportive presence, brought a sliver of focus back to Jason. The stark contrast between Drew's raw grief, Piper's urgent approach, and his own numbed state highlighted the emotional chasm Jason was struggling to bridge.

Piper, her face etched with a mix of concern and urgency, stepped closer to Jason. “Jason, focus on your breathing,” she instructed gently, her voice cutting through the fog of his disorientation. Her words reached him only partially, the rest of her advice lost in the muddle of his emotional numbness.

She placed a tentative hand on his arm, her touch both reassuring and grounding. “Can I touch you?” she asked softly, seeking his consent.

Jason, his mind struggling to reconnect with the present moment, gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. The simple gesture was a signal of his willingness, though his body remained rigid and his gaze unfocused.

Piper, sensing the need for more connection, asked, “What can you see and feel right now?” Her voice was steady, encouraging him to ground himself in his senses.

As Jason began to answer, he described the immediate environment in muted tones, his observations starting to cut through the dense fog in his mind. With each description, his senses gradually sharpened. He noted the cool air against his skin, the muted colors of the surroundings, and the distant sounds of the camp. As he spoke, the clarity of his thoughts began to return, and the overwhelming haze started to lift. His mind, slowly emerging from its state of paralysis, began to piece together the fragments of reality, aided by Piper’s calm, guiding presence.

Suddenly, Jason’s gaze sharpened, and a clear, urgent thought cut through the fog of his disorientation. He turned to Percy with a focused intensity, his voice firm despite his earlier emotional turmoil. “Percy, can we have a training session?”

Percy’s reaction was immediate and instinctive. Without waiting for Piper’s plea or needing any further encouragement, he sprang to his feet. His body moved with practiced efficiency, driven by a deep understanding of what Jason needed in this moment.

Piper watched from the sidelines, her heart sinking. She could see the truth behind Jason’s request: the endless cycle of fighting was all he had ever known.

Chapter Text

PERCY

Percy was exhausted, his muscles aching from the intense training session with Jason. He had learned a lot, pushing himself further than he thought. He decided to give Jason some space, he wandered down to the creek, hoping to find some peace away from the chaos of this new world. The gentle sound of the water and the rustling leaves offered him a brief respite from his thoughts.

As he sat by the edge of the creek, dipping his fingers into the cool water, he felt a strange tug, almost like a whisper in his mind. The fish were calling him, their voices blending together in a chorus of urgency. They needed help. Percy hesitated for a moment, then sighed, knowing he couldn’t ignore them. It felt like a duty, something deep within him that he had to follow.

He got up and followed the pull of the water, letting it guide him further downstream. The fish led him to a quiet spot, away from the usual paths. There, partially submerged and tangled in a fishing net, was a small, strange creature. It looked like a miniature sea cow, with soft, velvety skin and wide, frightened eyes. As Percy approached, the creature let out a plaintive moo, its large, dark eyes pleading for help.

Percy crouched beside it, trying to calm the creature. “It’s okay,” he murmured, reaching out to touch its side. The creature flinched at first, but as Percy gently stroked its back, it began to relax. “I’m going to get you out of here, but I need you to stay still, okay?”

He drew his sword, careful not to startle the creature, and began to cut through the tangled net. The creature remained still, as if sensing that Percy meant no harm. When the last of the net finally fell away, the creature nuzzled against Percy’s side, a grateful gesture that made him smile.

“Bessie,” he said suddenly, the name popping into his mind. “That’s what I’ll call you.” The creature mooed softly in response, almost as if it understood.

As Bessie swam off into the deeper waters, the fish swarmed around Percy, their tiny voices murmuring thanks. He waved them off with a tired smile and stood up, brushing off the dirt from his jeans. As he turned to leave, he felt a strange sense of fulfillment, but the moment passed quickly.

Percy anxiously fiddled with his bracelet for a moment before twisting one of the beads, causing a shimmering arc of light to shoot out, forming a vibrant rainbow in front of him. The colors danced across the water’s surface, reflecting back at him as he reached into his other pocket for a drachma.

Without hesitation, Percy tossed the drachma into the heart of the rainbow. The coin disappeared in a flash of light, swallowed up by the magic. His heart pounded as he whispered the words that held all his hopes, “Show me Sally Jackson.”

The rainbow shimmered, the colors swirling and shifting until an image began to form.

Her face appeared in the shimmering light, framed by the surroundings of what looked like a prison. She looked tired, the kind of weariness that clings to someone who’s been worrying for far too long. But the moment her eyes landed on Percy, a flicker of surprise and relief washed over her features.

"Percy?" she whispered, her voice barely audible through the magical connection. The exhaustion in her eyes was momentarily replaced by a spark of joy. Despite everything, despite the weight she carried, seeing her son brought her a moment of peace.

Percy felt a wave of emotion crash over him. "Mom," he replied softly, his voice thick with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. Just seeing her, even through the fleeting image, was enough to make him forget, if only for a moment, the chaos of the world around him.

Percy silently thanked Drew for this gift.

Sally’s expression shifted, concern etched in every line of her face as she asked, "How are you, Percy?"

Percy hesitated, not wanting to worry her more than she already was. "I’m okay, Mom," he said, though his voice didn’t quite carry the confidence he wanted it to. "But…I’m leaving for a quest today."

The flicker of joy that had lit up her face dimmed slightly, and she took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay composed. "A quest," she repeated, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "I know you’ll do what needs to be done, Percy. You always do."

Percy felt a tight knot in his chest as he prepared to leave again. He hated the idea of leaving her behind, but he couldn't let it show. "They put you in prison. How long?" he asked, trying to focus on something other than the growing ache inside him.

Sally's gaze dropped, her shoulders sagging with the weight of it all. "Years. Manslaughter," she admitted softly, her voice trembling. She quickly tried to regain her composure, forcing a small, brave smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But I keep hoping things will get better, somehow. Hope is all we have, right?"

Percy nodded, though his heart ached for her. "Yeah, Mom. Hope. Once I finish my quest, I'll come back for you. I’ll find a way to get you out." He wished he could do more, but for now, hope was all they had to hold onto.

"How are you finding camp, Percy?" she asked, trying to shift the conversation to something lighter.

"Camp was destroyed, Mom. A demigod - Jason brought me here to this place, Bunker 9. It’s a haven for demigods," Percy explained, but there was a heaviness in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

Sally’s brow furrowed with concern. "Is Jason with you?"

Percy hesitated, a hint of tension creeping into his voice. "Not right now. We just had a training session. But, Mom… there’s something you should know about him." He paused, unsure of how to continue, but the words came tumbling out anyway. "He… he fought on the wrong side of the war. He was a traitor. And the prophecy—it talks about betrayal. He's coming with me and Dad warned me about him." His anxiety was clear in every word.

Sally listened carefully, her expression thoughtful rather than alarmed. When Percy finished, she reached out, her voice firmer than before. "Percy, promise me something."

He blinked, caught off guard. "What is it?"

"Promise me that you’ll trust Jason," she said, her eyes searching his. "I know what you’re saying, but he protected you. He brought you to safety. Remember, not everyone who looks like a hero is truly a hero, and not everyone who looks like a monster is truly a monster."

Percy looked at her, torn between his mother’s wisdom and his own doubts. But he trusted her judgment more than anyone else’s. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "I promise, Mom."

Sally’s face softened, a small, relieved smile appearing, though the worry didn’t completely leave her eyes. "Thank you, Percy. Sometimes, we have to trust in the goodness we see, even when it’s hard."

Percy nodded his head. A moment later, the connection cut off entirely, leaving him staring at the empty space where her image had been.

He stood there for a moment, gripping the now-dim bracelet, wishing he could have just a few more seconds to hear her voice.

Percy walked back into the bunker, the weight of his conversation with his mother still pressing on his mind. As he approached the door, he saw Jason standing there, a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder, ready for the quest. Jason gave Percy a nod, his expression serious but with an underlying resolve.

Before Percy could say anything, Chiron rolled up in his wheelchair, his eyes filled with concern. "What you two are about to undertake is dangerous," he warned, his tone heavy with the gravity of the situation. "The path ahead is fraught with uncertainty and peril. I hope you both understand the risks."

Percy met Chiron's gaze, the old centaur's worry making him hesitate for just a moment. But then he nodded firmly. "It feels right, Chiron. Two quest members... for now, it's what we need."

Chiron sighed, his expression softening. "I trust your instincts, Percy. Just be careful."

As they stepped outside, Beckendorf and Piper were there to see them off. "Good luck out there," Beckendorf said, clapping Jason on the back. Piper offered a small, hopeful smile, though her eyes were tinged with worry.

"Thanks," Percy replied, his voice steady as he exchanged a look with Jason. They both knew what was at stake.

Percy glanced around, spotting Drew standing a little further away. He walked over to her and gave a quick, reassuring goodbye. “We’ll be back,” he said, his tone confident, trying to ease the tension in her eyes.

Finally, he turned and raised his hand to Annabeth, who was standing far off, watching them with a look he couldn’t quite decipher. She didn’t move, but there was a flicker of emotion in her eyes, something between pride and fear.

With one last look at his friends, Percy turned back to Jason, and together, they left the safety of bunker 9 behind. The weight of the quest settled over them like a heavy cloak, but Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, this was exactly where he was meant to be.

“We need to head west," Percy said, breaking the silence. "But where exactly are we going?"

Jason looked ahead, his expression unreadable. "There's a seer who can help us. He’s on a beach not too far from here. He uses the Mist to disguise himself as a homeless man, blending in with the world so that no one notices him."

Percy frowned, trying to piece it together. "Who is he?"

"Nereus," Jason replied, his tone flat. "He's an ancient sea god, sometimes called the Old Man of the Sea. He has the gift of prophecy, but he’s also a master of disguise and trickery."

Percy nodded slowly, sensing there was more to the story. "You’ve dealt with him before?"

Jason sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "Yeah, on a previous quest. He evaded me, slipping through my fingers like water. But this time, with you here, I’m hoping we can catch him."

Percy’s mind raced with questions, but he kept them to himself for now. If this Nereus was as slippery as Jason made him out to be, they were in for a challenge. But Percy also felt a surge of determination.

"Alright," Percy said, his voice steady. "Let’s find this guy and get some answers."

Jason gave a brief nod, and they continued their trek westward, the tension between them a mix of anticipation and the weight of what lay ahead. The quest was only just beginning, but Percy could feel the threads of fate weaving tighter around them with every step.

After what felt like hours, Percy and Jason finally emerged onto a rocky, windswept beach. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep purples and oranges, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air. The beach was desolate, save for the occasional piece of driftwood or tangled seaweed washed up on the sand.

Percy scanned the shoreline, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. There, near a cluster of large rocks, sat a figure huddled in a threadbare blanket. The man looked every bit the part of a vagrant—unkempt hair, a scruffy beard, and clothes that seemed to have seen better days. He was hunched over, poking at a small, pathetic fire with a stick, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

"That’s him," Jason whispered, his voice low but tense.

Percy nodded, feeling a mixture of unease and resolve. He could sense something off about the man, something that spoke of ancient power hidden beneath the facade of a helpless drifter. But Percy knew better than to be fooled by appearances. This was Nereus, the Old Man of the Sea, and there was no telling what tricks he had up his sleeve.

The two demigods approached cautiously, their steps muffled by the soft sand. As they drew nearer, the man looked up, his piercing eyes gleaming with an intelligence that belied his ragged appearance. There was a flash of recognition in his gaze as he noticed Jason, but he said nothing, simply returning to his fire as if their presence was of no concern.

“Nereus?” Percy asked, his voice steady but edged with suspicion.

The man chuckled, a low, raspy sound that seemed to carry on the wind. “Names are just words,” he repeated, a sly grin spreading across his face. “But titles… ah, now those are something more. Titles carry weight, history, power.” His gaze flicked to Jason, and the smirk deepened, taking on a more sinister edge. “Scourge of Rome,” he said, the words dripping with a mix of mockery and gravity. Nereus arched his eyebrows at Percy, a subtle gesture that seemed to say, Watch him closely. His gaze stayed fixed on Percy, "godkiller," Nereus said, letting the title hang in the air like a dark cloud.

Jason stiffened at the title, his fists clenching at his sides. Percy’s eyes darted to Jason, catching the tension in his friend’s stance, but before he could say anything, Nereus continued.

“You’ve left quite the trail of destruction in your wake, son of Jupiter,” Nereus said, his tone almost casual. “Empires crumbled, gods weakened. Titles like yours don’t come without a cost.”

"We’re here for answers,” Percy said, his voice firm. “And we’re not leaving until we get them.”

Nereus chuckled again, this time with a hint of genuine amusement. “Bold, aren’t you?” he remarked, his eyes shifting to Percy. “Very well, let’s see if you’re as determined as you claim to be. But remember, titles come with a price. Are you ready to pay it?”

Percy’s brow furrowed as he asked, “How much?”

Nereus glanced at Jason with a look of mock disbelief, as if saying, Can you believe this kid? He smirked and said, “A million drachmas.”

He then tilted his head slightly, a hint of pity in his eyes. “But out of pity, I’ll tell you it’s not money you need to worry about. All you have to do is catch me.”

Without hesitation, Percy lunged forward, reaching out to grab Nereus, expecting an easy catch. But Nereus leaped into the sea with a swift, fluid motion. Percy propelled himself after him, diving into the water and cutting through it at supersonic speeds. He managed to close the gap and touch Nereus, but the old sea god instantly transformed into a sleek seal, slipping through Percy’s fingers.

Realizing brute strength wouldn’t be enough, Percy quickly devised a new strategy. He summoned his power and shot a powerful jet of water up from the seabed. The blast hit Nereus squarely in the face, disorienting him. As the sea god reverted to his human form, drenched and struggling, Percy, now empowered by the sea, seized the opportunity. With renewed strength, he grasped Nereus firmly, ensuring he couldn’t escape again.

Nereus laughed heartily, a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the beach. "Well done, young demigod," he said, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and grudging respect. "You’ve caught me fair and square."

With that, he and Percy emerged from the water, dripping and tired. Jason was waiting for them on the beach, his expression unreadable but his posture relaxed.

Nereus, now calm and composed, led them toward a quiet spot on the beach where he was prepared to share his insights.

Nereus looked at Percy and Jason with a sly grin. "You may ask me a single question," he said, his tone both mysterious and teasing.

"One question, and one question only. Choose wisely, for it will shape your path."

Percy and Jason exchanged glances, both aware of the gravity of the situation. Percy took a deep breath, his mind racing with possibilities.

Percy and Jason stood on the beach, the weight of their decision heavy in the air. Percy’s mind was set on asking about the potential betrayal that might lie ahead, but before he could voice his question, Jason spoke up.

"Where will we find the Bane of Olympus?" Jason asked, his tone firm and resolute.

Nereus’s grin widened, and he shook his head with a hint of amusement. "Wrong question," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. He then turned his gaze to Percy. "You were thinking of the right one."

The ancient seer’s eyes glinted with a cryptic light as he continued, "The Bane of Olympus has already found you, Perseus. Your path is intertwined with its own."

Nereus pointed a crooked finger towards a dark, imposing mountain in the distance. "You will find him there. That is where your journey will lead you next."

As Nereus dissolved into the sea, Jason’s face went pale, a stark contrast to the seer’s confident demeanor. Percy turned to him, concern etched on his face.

“Why didn’t we discuss what to ask?” Percy demanded, frustration tinged with worry.

Jason shook his head, his eyes filled with unease. “We have bigger problems than missed questions. That mountain—” he pointed towards the looming dark peak “—is where the general, the greatest Titan warrior, resides. It’s where Atlas, the Titan who holds up the sky, is imprisoned.”

Percy frowned, trying to remain hopeful. “But he’s occupied, right? He’s holding up the sky.”

Jason’s expression grew more serious. “The prophecy says we’re meant to free a Titan from their curse. That mountain could be where it happens.”

Percy’s heart sank as the full implications of Jason’s words settled in. They were not only up against an ancient Titan but potentially walking right into the heart of a prophecy that could change everything.

Chapter Text

JASON

Jason glanced at Percy as they walked through the damp streets. "So, why are we heading to the city?" Percy asked, his tone curious.

Jason responded with a hint of sarcasm, "Well, you know, being a mere human and all, I do have this pesky need to eat."

Percy met his comment with a deadpan expression. "You could have just said we were getting food."

The usual hum of the city was muted, replaced by the steady, rhythmic drumming of water against concrete. Shadows stretched long and dark, deepening the sense of isolation that hung in the air. The city seemed to sag under the weight of the storm, its energy drained, leaving only the somber sound of the rain echoing through the empty streets.

As the rain poured down in sheets, Percy walked alongside Jason, completely untouched by the deluge. His clothes remained perfectly dry, the water simply refusing to cling to him, a subtle testament to his powers. Meanwhile, Jason trudged beside him, his hair plastered to his forehead, clothes clinging uncomfortably to his body as the rain soaked him through.

Percy glanced over at him, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, you look like a drowned rat."

Jason shot him a withering look. "Thanks for the observation."

Percy chuckled. "Don’t worry, I'll dry you off when we get inside."

Jason scanned the surroundings as the rain poured down, noticing how the usually bustling streets were now eerily empty. The storm had driven everyone indoors, leaving the city feeling abandoned, almost ghostly. But as he looked closer, he spotted a lone woman and a child huddled next to an ATM, the only sign of life in the desolate scene. The child was crying, tears mingling with the raindrops on their small face. The woman knelt beside the child, her voice soft but tinged with despair as she tried to explain that they had no money. Her words were carried away by the wind, but the defeat in her posture was unmistakable.

Jason tried to ignore the scene, forcing himself to adopt the callous demeanor he had been trained to maintain. He was supposed to be a soldier, hardened against the world’s suffering, indifferent to the struggles of others. But the sight of the woman and her crying child gnawed at the edges of his resolve. He tried to brush it off, focusing on the rhythm of the rain and the mission at hand.

Then, he saw the woman’s grocery bag tear under the relentless downpour, spilling its contents onto the wet pavement. The groceries scattered, some of them rolling away into the gutter. The woman’s shoulders slumped, and the child’s cries grew louder, filled with a helplessness that cut through Jason’s defenses.

That was the final straw.

"Percy," he said, his voice firm but carrying an undercurrent of something softer, "head into that restaurant and order us something."

Percy raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in Jason's tone, but nodded and headed toward the fast-food place. As Percy walked away, Jason turned his attention back to the woman, knowing he couldn’t just walk away from this.

Jason crouched down and began helping the woman gather her scattered groceries. She looked up, startled at first, but then her expression softened into one of deep gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

As Jason handed her the last of the soggy items, his gaze drifted to the ATM screen. It flashed a meager balance of 8 dollars. The sight made his chest tighten. He realized then just how dire her situation was—how hard it must be to scrape by, trying to provide for a child with so little.

Jason decided to act. He focused on the ATM, subtly weaving the Mist to manipulate the numbers on the screen. Slowly, the balance changed, the digits flickering until they settled at 10,000 dollars. He knew he couldn't push the Mist further without risking the illusion shattering, but this was enough. It would make a world of difference to her. A You've won the lottery sign appeared.

The woman’s eyes widened as she noticed the change, her despair turning into unrestrained joy. Tears welled up, and she let out a small, incredulous laugh. The child, catching onto his mother’s happiness, giggled innocently, their earlier tears forgotten.

Jason watched them for a moment, allowing himself a small, rare smile at the sight. But before the woman could turn around to thank him, he slipped away, disappearing into the restaurant where Percy was waiting. He didn’t need recognition or gratitude—just knowing he’d made a difference was enough.

As Jason stepped into the restaurant, shaking off the last drops of rain, he spotted Percy already seated at a table with their food. Percy was smiling, a wide, genuine grin that Jason rarely saw. It caught him off guard.

Jason sat down across from him, brow furrowed in confusion. "What’s with the smile? Did something happen?"

Percy just shook his head, still grinning. "Nothing," he replied, his tone light. "It’s just... my mom was right."

Jason’s confusion deepened. “About what?”

Percy shrugged, his grin widening. “Oh, just that the food here is pretty great.”

Percy was clearly lying but Jason was too hungry to press further. He grabbed his own meal and sat down, letting the matter drop.

As Jason ate, he couldn’t help but notice that Percy’s gaze was fixed intently on something behind him. Jason turned to see a television mounted on the wall, playing an old black-and-white movie. The actress on the screen caught Jason’s attention; there was something eerily familiar about her.

He frowned and turned to an elderly couple seated a few yards away. “Excuse me, do you happen to know who that actress is?” he asked, pointing at the screen.

The couple exchanged a glance before the man answered, “That’s Beryl Grace. She was quite famous back in the day. Unfortunately, she passed away a few years ago in a drunk driving accident.”

Jason’s heart skipped a beat, the revelation leaving him momentarily stunned. He remained silent, trying to process the shock.

Percy, sensing Jason’s distress, thanked the couple on his behalf. “Thanks for the information,” he said, his voice polite but laced with an underlying curiosity.

As the couple nodded and continued with their meal, Jason stared blankly at the screen, unable to fully grasp the weight of the revelation. The woman in the movie was Beryl Grace—his mother, who had abandoned him years ago. The realization settled heavily on him, making the food before him seem distant and unimportant.

Jason looked at Percy, his voice strained. “That actress—Beryl Grace—she’s my mother.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “Your mother was an actress? How did you not recognize her right away?”

Jason’s face hardened as he responded, “She abandoned me when I was three. I haven’t seen her since.”

Percy was momentarily at a loss for words.

Jason continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. “I spoke to my sister, Thalia, a few years ago. When she joined the Hunters, she never mentioned that our mother was still alive.”

Percy’s curiosity was piqued. “You have a sister? And what’s the Hunt?”

Jason glanced at Percy, his expression conflicted. “Thalia’s my sister. She joined the Hunters of Artemis, a group of immortal warriors sworn to protect and fight for the goddess Artemis. She left me behind to live that life, and she never told me much about our mother’s fate.”

"So, where is Thalia now?”

Jason’s expression grew distant as he shook his head. “I haven’t seen her in years. She’s been with the Hunters for as long as I can remember."

The mood between Jason and Percy grew somber, the weight of family revelations hanging heavily between them. The once-animated conversation fell into a heavy silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Outside, the rain began to taper off. The dark clouds slowly parted, allowing weak rays of sunlight to filter through, casting a soft glow over the city. Puddles on the streets started to shimmer with the emerging light, and the air seemed to clear, bringing a fragile sense of calm to the aftermath of the storm.

Jason looked over at Percy with a smirk and asked, "Fancy a boat trip?" Percy raised an eyebrow, curious. Jason continued, "That's how we're getting to Mount Tam."

”How do we get a boat?”

Jason grinned and replied, "Already taken care of. I asked Chiron, and it should be sitting at the dock, ready to go."

Percy blinked in surprise. "But won’t the journey take weeks?"

Jason chuckled. "You’re the son of Poseidon. I trust you can speed things up a bit. Two or three days, tops."

Percy and Jason made their way to the docks, and as they approached, they saw the boat waiting for them. It was in pristine condition, gleaming under the light. Percy stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight. "Woah," he murmured, genuinely impressed.

The boat was a sleek, elegant vessel, its hull a deep navy blue that shimmered in the light. It was a small sized yacht, with polished wooden decks that gleamed, reflecting the care put into its maintenance. The sails were crisp and white, ready to catch the wind, while gold accents along the railings and mast added a touch of luxury. The boat’s design was a perfect blend of classic craftsmanship and modern detail, with a streamlined shape that promised speed. The name "Tempest" was etched in elegant script on the stern, hinting at the power it held beneath its polished exterior.

As Jason busied himself loading the boat with supplies—food, water, maps, and other essentials—he couldn’t help but glance over at Percy, who was eagerly exploring every inch of the vessel. Percy moved from bow to stern, checking out the cabins, testing the ropes, and even peering over the side to admire the reflection of the boat in the water.

Jason chuckled to himself, amused by Percy’s almost childlike excitement. Despite all they had been through, it was moments like these that reminded Jason that Percy, for all his power and heroism, was still a teenager at heart, finding joy in the simple thrill of adventure.

Percy was standing on the deck, idly twisting the braided leather bracelet around his wrist. He turned to Jason with a relaxed smile. "I'm gonna go talk to Drew," he said casually.

Jason glanced at him and smiled back. "Say hi for me," he replied, his tone light.

Percy nodded and headed toward the cabin where he would talk to Drew. Jason could hear Percy’s voice as he talked to Drew about the boat and their plans.

Jason turned his attention to the ship, making sure everything was ready for departure. He gave the signal, and the boat smoothly began to move. As he started steering it in the right direction, he noticed that the conversation inside the cabin had become a bit quieter, the excitement in Percy's voice mellowing out as they continued to chat.

With the ship on course, Jason focused on navigating, feeling content with how things were unfolding.

Jason stood at the helm, admiring the serene beauty of the sea and sky, their colors blending harmoniously in a way that made him think of Percy and himself. The gentle sway of the boat and the endless horizon created a peaceful backdrop that seemed almost perfect.

Lost in the tranquility, Jason didn’t notice Percy approach from behind. Percy quietly slipped up beside him, holding out his bracelet. "Drew wants to talk to you," Percy said, his tone carrying a hint of concern.

Jason took the bracelet, sensing the underlying worry in Percy’s voice. He nodded, a small frown forming as he glanced back at Percy. "Alright," he said, his concern evident. "I’ll go talk to Drew."

Percy gave him a reassuring smile. "I’ll steer the ship and experiment with the speed," he said, stepping forward to take over. Jason watched as Percy moved to the helm, appreciating his friend's eagerness to help.

Jason headed inside the cabin to speak with Drew, leaving Percy to navigate and adjust the boat's speed.

Jason entered the cabin and settled onto the bed, twisting the bracelet in his hand. As he did so, a vibrant holographic image of a rainbow materialized in the air. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a drachma, and tossed it into the swirling colors.

"Show me Drew Tanaka," Jason said.

The rainbow shimmered and shifted, revealing an image of Drew in the infirmary. She looked mostly fine, but the somber expression on her face told Jason that something was wrong. "Drew, are you okay?" Jason asked, leaning forward slightly as he studied her face.

Drew nodded, but her expression remained serious. "I’m fine, Jason," she replied, her tone low and reflective. "But there was an influx of monsters. A hellhound got into the camp... it attacked Annabeth."

Jason's heart skipped a beat. "Annabeth? Is she...?" His voice trailed off, filled with concern.

"She’s better now," Drew assured him quickly, though her tone was still grave. "She was in critical condition, but she’s stabilized. She’s just taking a nap now."

Jason exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, but Drew’s next words made his stomach tighten. "Jason, she was so scared," Drew continued, her voice almost breaking. "She thought she was dying."

Jason swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in.

As the holographic image of Drew lingered in the air, Jason noticed a momentary hesitation in her eyes. She took a deep breath before speaking again, her voice gentle but firm. "Jason, there's something else... something important."

Jason nodded, his brow furrowing with concern. "What is it, Drew?"

Drew sighed softly, her expression turning even more serious. "Annabeth... she deserves to know about Julia." She paused, watching Jason's reaction carefully. "Life is too short, and we face danger every day. We could die at any moment, and I don't think you should carry this guilt anymore. Annabeth shouldn’t be left in the dark."

Jason's heart sank. He had kept the truth about Julia hidden for so long, partly out of fear and partly to protect Annabeth from more pain. But hearing Drew’s words made him realize that maybe it was time—time to be honest, even if it was difficult.

"Drew..." Jason started, but his voice faltered. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but he knew she was right.

Drew gave him a compassionate look. "Jason, I know it's not easy, but Annabeth needs to know the truth. You owe it to her, and to yourself, to be honest. Don’t let this be something you regret later."

Jason nodded slowly, the weight of Drew's words settling over him. He knew he couldn’t keep this secret any longer.

As Jason sat in the cabin, the last traces of Drew’s holographic image fading away, her voice echoed in his mind. "I’ll wake Annabeth," she had said, and Jason felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest.

Moments later, the image reappeared, this time revealing Drew gently shaking Annabeth awake in the infirmary. Annabeth stirred, groggily opening her eyes. Jason’s heart sank when he saw the bandages wrapped around her arms and torso, stark reminders of the recent battle.

Annabeth blinked, her gaze sharpening as she recognized Jason through the rainbow projection. Surprise quickly flashed across her face, but it was soon replaced by anger. "Jason," she said, her voice cold and edged with pain. "What do you want? Here to mock me?"

Jason flinched inwardly at the sharpness of her words, but he understood where they were coming from. He swallowed hard, knowing he couldn’t back out now. "Annabeth," he began, his voice softer than usual. "I’m not here to mock you. I’m here because... because I need to apologize. For being too weak to say this in person, and for not telling you sooner."

Annabeth's expression remained hard, but there was a flicker of confusion in her eyes. She crossed her arms, wincing slightly as she did, but didn’t say anything, waiting for Jason to continue.

Jason took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I need to tell you everything about Julia," he said, his voice tinged with regret. He saw the way Annabeth’s expression darkened, but she didn’t interrupt, though he could tell she was bracing herself for whatever was coming next.

"I know this won’t be easy to hear," Jason continued, his voice heavy with the weight of what he was about to reveal. "But you deserve the truth. I should have told you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t."

Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, her anger barely contained, but she stayed silent, waiting for him to carry on. Jason could see the hurt in her eyes, the wounds that went deeper than just the ones on her body.

Jason took a deep, shaky breath as he began to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. "Julia was so young when I first brought her to camp," he started, his eyes fixed on the floor as memories flooded back. "I was in San Francisco, just minding my business when I saw her—this little girl, no older than seven, getting attacked by gryphons. She had this look of pure admiration in her eyes when she saw me."

He paused, the image of Julia's blonde hair and piercing grey eyes vivid in his mind. "I could tell right away she was a daughter of Athena. She had that same fierce intelligence, even at such a young age. After I helped her fend off the gryphons, I found her father. I asked him if her mother was Athena, and he confirmed it."

Jason swallowed, his voice growing heavier as he continued. "I told him about Camp Half-Blood, explained what it was, and how it could protect her. But he didn’t trust me, so he insisted on coming with us. It was a long journey, but we finally made it to camp. As soon as we crossed the borders, Julia was claimed by Athena."

He hesitated, the memory of that day both painful and bittersweet. "I told her father that she would fit in instantly. Annabeth, you were the one who showed her around camp that day," he added, his voice breaking slightly as he looked up at her.

Annabeth’s expression softened, her anger giving way to a mix of emotions as she recalled the memory. She remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Her dad thanked me for bringing her to camp," Jason continued, his voice growing quieter. "But then... we heard a scream from the attic. Julia had wandered in there and received a prophecy from the Oracle. She was terrified, crying in fear. I remember rushing to Chiron, saying it must be a mistake, that she was too young—only seven—to go on a quest."

Jason’s hands clenched into fists as he relived the moment. "But Chiron just told me that Athena had ordained it. I lost it, Annabeth. I couldn’t believe it. How could anyone send a child on a quest like that? But Chiron dismissed me, and I could hear Julia crying in the corridor, her father trying so hard to be strong for her."

He paused, his voice choked with emotion. "Her father accepted it... he pleaded with me to go with her, to protect her. I promised him that I would keep her safe."

Jason’s voice broke as he reached the most painful part of the story. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Annabeth. "But I failed. Julia... she died in my arms, Annabeth. The poison from the manticore—it was too much. I couldn’t do anything to save her."

A tear slipped down Jason's cheek as he continued, his voice barely audible. "Julia never told me what the prophecy was. But she was smart—she always knew. She knew it was a suicide mission. And in her dying breaths, she told me... she said Athena sent her to die because she was unworthy."

Jason’s shoulders shook with the effort of holding back his emotions. "I carried her body all the way back to San Francisco, flying for two days. I wanted her father to punish me for failing to keep my promise. But all he did was cry and thank me for bringing her back."

He finally looked up at Annabeth, his eyes red and filled with pain. "I didn’t return to camp for a week. I couldn’t look at anyone without seeing Julia’s face. I should’ve told you, Annabeth. I should’ve delivered the message she wanted you to hear. I owed it to her... and to you."

Jason fell silent, the weight of his confession hanging heavily in the air between them. He had finally unburdened himself, but the pain of that memory was something he knew he would carry with him forever.

Annabeth sat there, stunned and silent as Jason finished his story. The anger she had felt earlier melted away, replaced by a deep, aching sorrow. She hadn’t known—how could she have known? Tears welled up in her eyes, and she struggled to find the right words.

"Jason... I’m so sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn’t know... I had no idea."

As the gravity of Jason’s pain and the burden he had been carrying all this time hit her, tears began to spill down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them, and her voice broke as she spoke again. "If something like that... if it ever happened to me... would you... would you carry my body to my father?"

Jason’s heart clenched at the thought, but there was no hesitation in his response. "Of course I would, Annabeth," he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him. "I’d do it without a second thought."

Annabeth let out a sob, and the tears came in earnest. She was full-on crying now, overwhelmed by everything she had just learned and the weight of Jason’s promise. Her body shook with the force of her emotions, and she covered her face with her hands, trying to hold herself together but failing.

Jason watched her, his own heart breaking at the sight of Annabeth in so much pain. He reached out, wanting to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, not saying anything but just being there for her, sharing in the grief that had suddenly washed over them both. 

For a long moment, the only sound Jason could hear was Annabeth’s quiet sobs, mingling with the heavy silence that had settled over them. And in that moment, they both knew that some wounds would never fully heal, but at least they didn’t have to face them alone.

Chapter Text

PERCY

Percy focused intensely, steering the boat with his mind, feeling a strange connection with the water beneath them. As Jason had predicted, they were making incredible time—what should have taken weeks was being reduced to days. Percy could will the boat to move faster, even manipulating the water to propel them forward at astonishing speeds.

Jason joined Percy at the helm, returning his bracelet without a word. There was a noticeable relief in Jason’s expression, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Percy sensed that whatever had been troubling Jason was now somewhat eased.

Jason’s gaze suddenly sharpened as he looked ahead. Another ship was cutting across their path, coming directly toward them. Without hesitation, Jason launched himself into the air, flying ahead to assess the situation. When he returned, his face was grim. "We need to turn back, Percy. This isn't safe."

But it was too late. The other ship seemed to accelerate, almost as if the water itself was pushing it forward. In no time, it was right in front of them. Pirates leaped onto Percy’s boat, brandishing swords with menacing intent. Percy and Jason immediately drew their weapons, ready for a fight.

A figure stepped forward from the enemy ship, clad entirely in golden armor, his face hidden behind a gleaming mask. His eyes, a dirty green, were filled with seething hatred. Percy noticed something strange about the pirates—underneath their armor and ferocity, they were dolphins, cursed into humanoid form.

The golden warrior’s voice was cold and filled with disdain as he spoke. "Cursed by Dionysus," he said, confirming Percy’s suspicion.

Jason was the first to speak, his voice calm but firm. "You need to leave our ship."

The warrior let out an ugly laugh, a sound that grated on Percy’s nerves. "We’ll leave," he said mockingly, "but only after we’ve taken everything of value."

Percy’s eyes narrowed, and he met the warrior’s gaze with defiance. "How much do you value your own ship?" he challenged. "Because if you don’t back off, I’ll drown you and your entire crew."

The warrior’s confidence didn’t waver. In fact, he seemed even more amused, his voice dripping with scorn. "Try it."

Percy gritted his teeth, focusing all his energy on the ocean. He willed the water to rise, to engulf the enemy ship and send it to the depths. But something was wrong—despite his best efforts, the ocean remained still. Percy began to struggle, his breath coming in heavy gasps as the strain took its toll on him. The water refused to obey his command.

The golden warrior watched Percy struggle, a cruel smile forming behind his mask as the ocean stubbornly refused to respond to Percy’s will. "Having trouble?" the warrior taunted, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Percy’s frustration grew as he fought to make sense of what was happening. The ocean had always been his ally—until now.

The warrior took a step forward, his presence commanding and full of menace. "Let me enlighten you, boy," he said, his tone dripping with contempt. "I am Chrysaor."

Seeing no reaction, Chrysaor continued, his voice rising with bitterness. "I should have been the most famous hero of all time! But since the legend-tellers decided to ignore me, I became a villain instead. I resolved to put my heritage to use. As the son of Medusa, I would inspire terror. As the son of Poseidon, I would rule the seas!"

Percy felt a chill run down his spine. This was no ordinary adversary. Chrysaor’s connection to the sea was stronger, older, more deeply rooted than his own. His experience and rage were overwhelming, and Percy could feel the ocean slipping out of his control, bending to the will of the one who stood before him.

Chrysaor’s eyes gleamed with malevolence. "Your experience is nothing compared to mine, brother. You’re playing with forces you don’t understand."

As the tension thickened, Jason's eyes flickered with lightning, a sign of his growing unease and readiness to fight. Chrysaor noticed the shift, his smile widening beneath the mask.

“There’s something aboard my ship that you might find interesting,” Chrysaor said, his tone laced with mockery.

Jason narrowed his eyes, suspicion clouding his features. “You’re lying.”

Chrysaor chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the moment. “Perhaps. But why don’t we settle this in a way that suits us all?” He stepped back, drawing his sword with a flourish. “I challenge you to a duel. You and your friend—two against one, to make it fair.”

He glanced at Percy, his eyes gleaming with malevolence. “The stakes are simple. The winners take the losers’ ship and everything on it. The losers... die.”

Jason and Percy exchanged a tense glance, knowing they had no other option. They were trapped, with no escape in sight. Accepting the challenge was the only way forward.

Jason gripped his gladius tighter, the air crackling with electricity around him. “We accept,” he said, his voice firm.

Percy nodded, determination in his sea-green eyes. Together, they prepared to face Chrysaor, knowing that the outcome of this duel would determine not just their fate, but possibly the fate of everyone they sought to protect.

The battle was brutal from the start. The golden warrior, Chrysaor, moved with blinding speed, his golden sword a blur that Percy could barely track. He felt the sting of the blade before he even realized he’d been struck, pain radiating from a fresh wound on his side.

Jason wasn’t faring much better. Chrysaor toyed with them, his movements effortless as he dodged and parried their attacks. Every swing from Percy’s sword was met with a sharp counter, and every thrust Jason attempted was deflected with ease. Finally, with a swift and powerful strike, Chrysaor sent Jason crashing down onto the deck, the impact reverberating through the ship.

“Pathetic,” Chrysaor spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he stood over them, completely unscathed.

Jason, his body aching, refused to give up. With a roar, he called down a lightning bolt from the stormy skies above, the air sizzling with energy as it streaked toward Chrysaor. But the golden warrior was too fast. He sidestepped the bolt, and it struck a group of dolphin warriors instead, reducing them to ashes.

Chrysaor let out an ugly laugh, the sound grating against their ears. “You can’t win,” he sneered. “No matter what you try, you’re outmatched. Your powers are nothing compared to mine.”

He raised his sword, the blade gleaming with malicious intent, ready to deliver the final blow. Percy and Jason, wounded and exhausted, knew they were running out of options. But despite the overwhelming odds, they refused to back down.

With desperation setting in, Percy and Jason exchanged a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between them. They had to come up with a plan—fast.

“I’ll distract him,” Percy whispered, wincing as he tried to ignore the pain in his side. “You strike with lightning when he’s focused on me.”

Jason frowned, unsure. “How are you going to distract him?”

Percy managed a small, determined smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

With that, Percy turned his focus inward, reaching out to the ocean with every ounce of his will. His gut twisted in pain as he struggled for control, but slowly, he began to form a small wave. It was barely a ripple compared to what he was used to, but it was something.

Chrysaor noticed the attempt and let out a mocking laugh. “All that energy for nothing, boy. You’re wasting your time.”

But Percy didn’t falter. The wind began to pick up around them, growing in intensity as Jason lent his power, boosting Percy’s efforts. Chrysaor’s sneer faltered as he felt the change in the air, but he quickly masked it with more insults.

“You’re weak,” Chrysaor spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “A poor excuse for a son of Poseidon. No wonder he sent me here to kill you off.”

Percy didn’t know if he was being truthful but the taunt struck a chord deep within Percy.   Fueled by anger and determination, he dug deeper, forcing himself to overpower Chrysaor’s control of the ocean. The seas responded to Percy’s call, the small wave growing into a miniature hurricane that swirled around them, violent and unforgiving.

The golden warrior’s confident demeanor cracked as the hurricane raged, the wind howling and the seas churning under Percy’s command. Jason’s eyes flickered with electricity, readying himself for the moment when Chrysaor’s attention would fully be on Percy.

Percy fought like a demon, his every strike aimed at Chrysaor with deadly intent. But despite Percy’s relentless attacks, Chrysaor was still too skilled, parrying each blow with ease. Both combatants found themselves at the eye of the storm, the hurricane Percy had summoned raging around them. The dolphin warriors were helpless, thrown into the sea by the violent winds.

With sweat dripping down his face, Percy locked eyes with Chrysaor. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Chrysaor sneered, unfazed. “This hurricane? It’s under my control now, boy. You’ve only made things worse for yourself.”

The two clashed again, but this time their battle wasn’t just physical. They fought mentally for dominance over the storm, the winds and waves responding to their wills. For a moment, it seemed like Chrysaor was winning, bending the hurricane to his command. But Percy wasn’t done yet.

With a determined glint in his eyes, Percy suddenly relinquished control of the storm, allowing Chrysaor to take full command. “You’re right,” Percy said, as he was pushed back from the wind of the hurricane, a dangerous calm in his voice. “But you’re forgetting one thing—water is a great conductor of electricity.”

Realization dawned on Chrysaor too late. As he grasped control of the hurricane, Jason saw his opportunity. With a roar, he unleashed a barrage of lightning strikes, each bolt surging through the water-laden air of the storm. The lightning arced through the hurricane, straight into Chrysaor, who had unwittingly made himself the perfect target.

Chrysaor screamed in agony as the electricity coursed through his body, the golden armor he wore amplifying the current. His form convulsed violently, his grip on his sword loosening as the life was literally shocked out of him. In moments, the once-mighty warrior collapsed, his body smoking and lifeless.

Jason, his face grim, grabbed the golden warrior’s corpse and unceremoniously tossed it overboard into the churning sea below. The storm began to dissipate, the winds calming as the threat vanished.

Percy, exhausted but relieved, watched as Chrysaor’s body disappeared beneath the waves. “We did it,” he muttered, barely able to believe they had won.

Jason nodded, his eyes still sparking with residual energy. “Yeah. We did.”

Jason glanced over at Percy, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, we've got ourselves another boat now. Let's see what’s on it."

The two made their way across the deck, cautiously exploring the ship. They found supplies—food, water, weapons—all of which they began adding to their own stockpile. The victory had left them weary, but there was a sense of relief in having overcome such a powerful enemy.

As Percy moved to check another section of the boat, he suddenly froze. From beneath the floorboards, he heard a faint, rhythmic sound—kicking. His eyes narrowed as he motioned for Jason to join him.

"Jason," Percy called quietly, his tone serious.

Jason hurried over, and together they pried open the floorboards. What they found beneath was shocking: a man, bound tightly to a chair, his blonde hair disheveled, blue eyes glaring up at them with a mixture of defiance and desperation. A deep scar ran through his right eye and down his cheekbone.

Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the man. “Luke?” he whispered, disbelief etched across his face.

Chapter Text

JASON

Jason paced restlessly on the deck, his gaze flicking to Luke with an intensity that bordered on desperation. “You’re the third,” he said, his voice firm, as if speaking to a leader.

“No, I’m not,” Luke snapped back, his anger palpable. He glared at Jason, his frustration clear.

Percy, caught in the middle, looked between them, confusion etched on his face. “Third of what?” he asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

“The quest,” Jason replied, not taking his eyes off Luke. The tension between them was thick, almost suffocating.

Luke shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want any part of the quest,” he said, his tone resolute. “I escaped, Jason. Kronos didn’t care—I’m nothing to him now. He’s at full power, got everything he wanted. The Titans are in control, and they’re launching their final attack on Olympus and the demigods. There’s nothing we can do.”

Jason’s jaw tightened. “The prophecy doesn’t say that.”

“Prophecies are unreliable,” Luke shot back. “Do you not remember how strong Kronos was before? Imagine him a hundred times more powerful.”

“There’s still a chance,” Percy interjected, his voice steady with conviction. “I can feel it.”

Jason noticed the way Luke looked at Percy with disdain, muttering under his breath, “Poseidon kids.”

Jason ignored the jab and asked, “How did you get captured?”

“The golden warrior challenged me to a duel,” Luke admitted, his pride wounded. “I was overconfident, and he outplayed me. I was captured because I underestimated him. But somehow, you killed him.”

Jason glanced at Percy, who nodded slightly. “It was all Percy’s idea.”

Percy stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Luke’s. “Are you in or not?”

Luke hesitated, the weight of his decision hanging in the air. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“What are we going to do with the boat?” Luke asked, trying to shift the focus.

Percy’s expression hardened. “I’m sacrificing it.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “To who?”

“To my father,” Percy replied, his voice edged with determination.

Luke scoffed. “Poseidon isn’t exactly a great father.”

“I’m not doing it for him,” Percy said sharply. “I’m doing it to show that I’m better than Chrysaor. This isn’t about him—it’s about proving that we can still fight.”

Luke nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. Without another word, Percy turned toward the edge of the boat, his mind set. With a deep breath, he summoned the power within him, and with a flick of his hand, the ship began to sink, disappearing into the depths as a tribute.

They stood in silence, the gravity of the moment settling over them like a heavy fog. The boat was gone, and with it, any remaining doubts. The quest was real, and there was no turning back now.

"We better get moving," Luke said, his voice low with a hint of urgency. "Where are we heading?"

"Mount Tam," Percy replied, already turning his attention to the ship's controls.

Luke stared at him, disbelief etched on his face. "Do you have a suicide wish?"

Jason didn't hesitate. "Yes, we do."

Luke just shook his head, taking in the reckless determination in both their expressions. Without another word, Percy began steering the ship, his focus sharp, leaving Luke and Jason to the uneasy silence between them.

After a moment, Luke broke it. "Have you been getting the dreams? From Kronos?"

Jason shook his head. "They stopped a while ago."

"That's good," Luke muttered, relief flickering briefly in his eyes.

Jason hesitated before speaking again. "We visited your mom."

Luke stiffened, his gaze hardening. "How is she?"

Jason sighed, choosing his words carefully. "It hasn’t gotten any better."

Luke's expression didn’t change—he had already known the answer. His eyes darkened with a mix of sorrow and resignation. "Yeah," he whispered, more to himself than to Jason.

After a pause, Luke asked, "Is there an open cabin?"

Jason nodded, pointing in the direction. "Down the hall, to the right."

Luke gave a curt nod in thanks, his footsteps heavy as he headed towards the cabin. The conversation had drained whatever energy he had left.

Jason watched him go, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between them. He knew Luke was carrying a burden far heavier than any of them could understand. As the cabin door closed behind Luke, Jason turned back to the deck, where Percy was guiding the ship toward their next impossible task.

"How long?" Jason asked, his voice steady despite the underlying tension in the air.

Percy glanced at him, his expression serious. "Around ten hours."

A brief silence followed before Percy spoke again. "Do you trust Luke?"

Without hesitation, Jason replied, "Yes."

Percy raised an eyebrow at how quickly Jason answered. "Really?"

Jason nodded. "He was the one who taught me sword fighting and all the other stuff. He might’ve made some bad choices, but he was a good teacher. I owe him a lot."

Percy studied Jason for a moment, then sighed. "Alright." He knew there was no point in arguing. Jason’s loyalty ran deep, and that was something Percy both respected and worried about.

"I’ll take the first watch," Jason offered.

Percy accepted with a nod, relief evident in his eyes. "Thanks." He handed over the helm and walked off to get some rest, though Jason could tell his mind was still racing.

Jason stood at the helm, eyes scanning the horizon as the minutes ticked by. An hour passed in silence, the only sounds being the soft lapping of the waves against the hull and the occasional creak of the ship.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Jason noticed movement in the sky. A group of gryphons circled above, their sharp eyes locked on the ship. They were scouting, likely waiting for the right moment to strike.

Jason didn’t waste time. He flipped his coin, and in a flash, his gladius appeared in his hand, gleaming in the moonlight. Without hesitation, he leaped into the air, summoning the winds to carry him upward with ease.

The gryphons barely had time to react before Jason was upon them. His speed was blinding, his movements fluid and precise. He darted between the creatures, striking with superhuman agility, each swing of his gladius cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. One by one, the gryphons fell, their cries echoing in the night as they plummeted toward the sea.

In a matter of moments, it was over. Jason hovered in the air for a moment, scanning the skies for any more threats. Seeing none, he descended back to the ship, landing gracefully on the deck.

He glanced at the horizon, the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through his veins. There would be more challenges ahead, but for now, the ship was safe. Jason returned to his post at the helm, his grip on the gladius tightening slightly as he continued his vigil, ever watchful for the next threat.

Jason leaned back against the ship's railing, his eyes drifting upward to the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, painting the darkness with a serene beauty that momentarily eased the weight of the quest from his shoulders. As he traced the constellations with his gaze, his thoughts wandered to his sister, Thalia. He hadn’t seen her in so long. A part of him held onto the hope that their paths would cross again, that they would have a chance to fight side by side once more. The thought brought him a rare sense of peace.

But peace was fleeting. Of course another threat would find them.

A sudden screech shattered the calm, and Jason's eyes snapped to the sky. A group of harpies descended upon the ship, their talons glinting in the moonlight as they swooped down with vicious intent. Jason’s grip on his gladius tightened as he launched himself into action.

The fight was brutal. The harpies were relentless, their attacks swift and coordinated. Jason fought them off with every ounce of strength he had, his movements quick and precise. But despite his skill, the battle took its toll. He was outnumbered, and though he managed to defeat the last of the harpies, he didn’t emerge unscathed.

Breathing heavily, Jason staggered back to the deck, his body aching from the effort. He leaned against the mast, trying to catch his breath, but exhaustion was creeping in fast. The adrenaline that had fueled him through the fight was fading, leaving him drained and weary.

Before he realized it, his eyes were closing, and he slid down to the deck, falling into a deep, unplanned sleep.

When he was woken, it wasn’t by the gentle lull of the ship or the sound of the sea. It was Percy and Luke, their voices pulling him out of his exhaustion-induced slumber.

“Jason, wake up,” Percy said, shaking him gently.

Jason blinked awake, groggy and disoriented. He winced as he pushed himself up, feeling the sting of the wounds he’d sustained during the harpy attack.

“We’re here,” Luke added, his voice tense. Jason looked around, finally noticing the dark silhouette of Mount Tam looming ahead. The mountain’s ominous presence sent a shiver down his spine. The time for rest was over—another challenge awaited them.

Jason nodded, forcing himself to stand despite the soreness in his muscles. “Let’s do this,” he said, his voice steady despite the lingering fatigue. There was no turning back now.

They began trekking up the mountain, the terrain rough and unforgiving beneath their feet. The air grew cooler with every step, and the mist clung to their skin like a cold breath. Luke took the lead, his movements calculated, diverting from the original path with a quiet warning.

"Ladon’s on that side," he said, his voice low. "Best if we avoid him."

Jason nodded, recalling Luke’s infamous quest to this very mountain. He remembered the tale of how Luke had barely escaped with his life, gaining the scar that now cut across his face—a mark of that fateful encounter with the guardian of the golden apples. The thought stirred something in Jason, a mixture of admiration and unease. He had to trust Luke now, even with their uncertain past.

As they climbed higher, the air became thicker, the mist swirling around them, obscuring their view of the peak. Jason could barely make out Percy walking ahead of him, his figure fading in and out like a ghost in the haze. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the occasional crunch of their footsteps on the rocky path.

Jason’s mind drifted between thoughts of the prophecy and the looming threat of Kronos. Every step felt like a march toward an inevitable fate, but he kept his resolve. He had to.

Without warning, Luke stopped abruptly, his hand shooting out in a gesture for them to halt. Jason nearly collided with Percy, who froze just in time. The air felt different now, charged with a tension that made the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck stand on end.

“What is it?” Percy asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Luke didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were fixed ahead, his body rigid with a kind of wary anticipation. Jason glanced past him, but the mist was so thick, it was impossible to see what had caused Luke to stop.

Jason’s hand instinctively reached for his weapon, ready for whatever came next.

A low, menacing growl rumbled through the mist, and Jason’s heart lurched. Emerging from the fog was a creature, its monstrous form becoming clearer with every second—a manticore, its lion-like body towering over them, with a scorpion tail poised high, bristling with venomous spikes.

"I have been tracking you," the manticore's voice hissed in their minds, eerie and disembodied. Its mouth remained still, and Jason quickly realized the creature was speaking telepathically. His eyes darted around, looking for an opening, already knowing they had no time to waste.

The manticore launched into an attack with terrifying speed. Its movements were a blur as it lunged toward them, its claws swiping with brutal force. Jason barely managed to pull his gladius free in time to block the first strike, the impact sending a shockwave up his arm.

Before he could recover, the manticore's tail flicked violently, launching a barrage of deadly spikes toward them. Jason ducked, his reflexes barely keeping him from being skewered. Percy and Luke also dodged, but one of the spikes grazed Percy’s arm, leaving a shallow cut. Percy hissed in pain but kept moving.

"We need to take it down, now!" Percy shouted, gripping Riptide as he charged in. Luke followed suit, his movements quick but unsteady as he struggled to find an opening.

They were both struggling against the manticore’s sheer power. Each swipe from its claws sent shockwaves through the ground, and its tail lashed out with precision, making it nearly impossible to close the distance.

Jason knew they couldn’t win by staying on the defensive. He summoned the lightning from the sky, calling it down with a forceful gesture. A bolt of white-hot energy cracked through the mist and struck the manticore dead-on. But to Jason's horror, the creature barely flinched. The lightning bounced off its thick hide, scattering harmlessly into the surrounding air.

"Damn it," Jason muttered under his breath. The manticore was clearly resistant to his storm powers. There was no time to dwell on it; he had to get close.

Determined, Jason surged forward, closing the distance between him and the manticore in a flash. His gladius gleamed in the faint light as he swung at the beast, aiming for a weak spot under its ribs. The manticore roared in fury, swiping at him with its claws, but Jason was faster. He ducked under the blow and drove his sword forward, the blade striking true.

The manticore howled in pain, staggering back for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to take it down.

"Keep going!" Jason yelled, bracing himself for the next round.

As the manticore lunged back, snarling in agony, its form began to shimmer and distort. Jason blinked, confusion flashing through his mind. The creature’s outline blurred, and in its place stood a massive Nemean Lion, its golden fur gleaming in the mist like impenetrable armor.

“What the—” Percy swung Riptide at the lion, but the blade bounced off the creature’s hide as if it had struck solid stone.

“What is happening right now?” Percy asked, frustration and confusion creeping into his voice.

“I don’t know!” Jason shouted back, his grip tightening on his gladius. He swung with all his strength, but like Percy’s sword, his blade barely made a scratch on the lion’s enchanted fur. The Nemean Lion roared, its deafening cry echoing through the mist as it circled them.

Luke’s voice cut through the chaos. “Get it to open its mouth!” he called out, eyes sharp with determination. “That’s its only weak spot. I’ll throw my sword into it when it does.”

Jason exchanged a quick glance with Percy, both knowing they didn’t have much time. They moved into position, trying to lure the lion into an attack. But as they did, Luke suddenly stumbled, tripping over something invisible on the ground.

“What—?” Luke muttered, looking around, bewildered by the object that wasn’t there a second ago.

Before Jason could process what was happening, the Nemean Lion reared back and opened its massive jaws, preparing to strike. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he and Percy readied themselves for Luke’s throw. But just as Luke raised his sword, a sudden surge of energy crackled through the air, and the world around them shifted violently.

The mist vanished, and everything went dark for a heartbeat.

When Jason’s vision cleared, they were no longer on Mount Tam. They stood in a vast, unfamiliar landscape—a barren field under a stormy sky, lightning flashing ominously in the distance. The air was thick with a strange, oppressive energy.

“What just happened?” Percy asked, looking around in shock.

“I don’t know,” Jason replied, his voice low, eyes scanning the strange horizon. Something felt deeply wrong. The Nemean Lion was gone, but they had no idea where they were now. Luke staggered to his feet, still holding his sword, looking just as disoriented.

“This… this isn’t good,” Luke muttered grimly, staring at the endless expanse before them.

The disorienting landscape shimmered again, and the dark, stormy skies faded. Jason and Luke spoke simultaneously, their voices low with realization: "It’s the Labyrinth."

For a moment, no one dared to move. The vast, confusing maze stretched before them in their minds, even though they were standing still.

“The mist,” Percy said, breaking the tense silence. “It’s why the mountain was covered in it. It’s messing with our heads.”

Jason, still unsettled, caught sight of a large, hulking figure moving behind Percy—an unmistakable silhouette of a cyclops. He opened his mouth to warn Percy, but something about the way Percy closed his eyes and focused stopped him.

Percy’s grip tightened on Riptide, his brow furrowed in concentration. Without a word, he suddenly threw his sword as if it were a dagger, sending it flying thirty feet toward his left. Jason was about to shout that he had thrown it in the wrong direction, but then the sound of the sword hitting something—something solid—rang through the air with a resounding thud.

For a brief second, Jason thought the sword had merely struck the mountain, but as soon as the impact echoed, the illusion shattered. The world around them warped, and the fog lifted like a veil being torn away. The looming maze, the dark skies, and the oppressive energy vanished in an instant, revealing the familiar rugged slopes of Mount Tam once again.

Jason blinked, startled by the sudden shift. They were back on the mountain, the mist gone, and the air felt lighter, clearer.

Percy retrieved his sword, breathing heavily. “It was just another trick,” he said, glancing at Jason and Luke. “But we’re back.”

Jason, still shaken by the moment, glanced around cautiously. “Nice shot,” he muttered, impressed despite the chaos. Percy simply nodded, wiping sweat from his brow as they prepared for whatever lay ahead.

“Impressive,” a voice called out from the mist. Jason, Percy, and Luke turned to see a tall figure stepping into view. He looked around sixteen, with messy brown hair, deep green eyes shadowed by exhaustion, and a freckled face. His clothes were marked with glowing green protective runes, and a bullet-proof vest covered his chest, giving him an air of casual readiness for battle.

“Alabaster,” Luke spat, his voice dripping with disgust. His hand instinctively tightened around his sword, eyes narrowing at the sight of the son of Hecate.

Alabaster smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Luke Castellan. Still as charming as ever.” His tone was mocking as he took a few steps closer, his eyes flicking to Jason and Percy. “How’s the illusion fighting going?”

Jason stepped forward, his hand on his gladius. “Our fight’s not with you, Alabaster. Leave.”

Alabaster raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Or what?”

Percy, his expression darkening, stepped beside Jason. “We’ll kill you,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Alabaster let out a laugh, sharp and mocking, as if Percy’s words were the punchline to a joke only he knew. “Kill me? You couldn’t even handle my illusions.” His smile widened, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “What makes you think you can take me in a real fight?”

He glanced between them, eyes full of challenge. "But go ahead, try if you want. It'll be entertaining."

Alabaster’s smirk deepened as he sized them up. “I like these odds,” he said, his tone dripping with confidence. With a flick of his wrist, an imperial gold sword appeared in one hand and a worn notebook in the other, conjured from thin air. He twirled the sword lazily, as if he had all the time in the world.

“You fight for the selfish Olympians,” he sneered, “the divine mafia.”

Percy’s expression tightened, and he stepped forward. “We don’t fight for the Olympians. We fight for the demigods.”

Alabaster raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Percy’s defiance. “Do you now?” His voice was cold, mocking. “Funny, because according to the memories I’ve gathered, the two standing next to you”—he gestured toward Jason and Luke—“have killed more demigods than I’ve even seen.”

Jason tensed, his knuckles white around his gladius, but remained silent. Luke’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it.

“And yet,” Alabaster continued, “you side with them. The ones who’ve done more harm to your kind than any god or titan ever could.”

Percy glanced at Jason and Luke, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. But then he looked back at Alabaster, his resolve hardening. “Whatever they’ve done, they’re standing with me now. We’re fighting for the same thing. For the future.”

Alabaster chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s rich, Jackson. But it won’t matter. The gods don’t care about your future, and neither do I.”

Percy lunged forward, swinging his sword with precision, but it struck something unseen—a barrier. The impact reverberated through the blade, sending Percy stumbling backward, caught off guard by the invisible shield. A force flung him away as if he had been swatted by an unseen hand.

Jason and Luke wasted no time. They surged forward, weapons raised. Jason’s gladius crackled with electricity as he channeled a jolt of energy into the blade. With a swift strike, Jason’s sword connected with the shield, sending a surge of electricity rippling through it. Alabaster cried out as the shock coursed through him, his grip on his sword faltering. The imperial gold blade clattered to the ground.

Seizing the opportunity, Luke slashed at Alabaster’s knee with swift precision, causing him to buckle under the blow. The dark sorcerer gritted his teeth in pain, collapsing partially.

Percy wasn’t done. With a fierce yell, he called upon the earth beneath them. The ground responded to his command, erupting with raw power, launching Alabaster upward before slamming him onto his knees. Jason was there in an instant, his boot driving into Alabaster’s chest, knocking him onto his back.

Percy raised his sword high, ready to bring it down and finish the fight, but before the blade could strike, Alabaster vanished in a swirl of mist. He reappeared several feet away, shrouded in ethereal fog. His eyes glowed with anger, his body coiled like a snake ready to strike.

"Cheap tricks again," Jason muttered under his breath, frustration mounting.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Percy called out, gripping his sword tighter as he prepared for whatever came next. Alabaster’s laughter echoed in the mist, his figure barely visible as he melded into the shadows.

“Round two, then,” Alabaster said, his voice chilling in the silence.

Alabaster clutched his notebook, chanting in a language that sent a chill through the air. Jason, seeing no other option, rushed forward, hoping to interrupt the spell. But before he could reach him, an invisible sword sliced into his gut, and he collapsed to the rocky ground, blood pouring from the wound. He gasped for breath, the pain overwhelming him as he gripped his stomach.

Luke wasn’t faring much better. He managed to strike at Alabaster, but his blade glanced off some unseen protection. Frustration mounted, but his effort created an opening. Percy darted in, his movements swift and precise just quick enough , plunging his sword straight into Alabaster's heart.

To Percy’s shock, Alabaster didn’t react as expected. He didn’t falter, didn’t bleed—he didn’t even look tired. Instead, a twisted grin spread across his face. “You can’t kill me,” he said, voice steady despite the blade in his chest. “I’ve used a spell to protect myself from death.”

Percy’s eyes narrowed in confusion, his grip tightening on his sword. Meanwhile, Jason lay bleeding on the ground, his vision swimming. He could barely focus as Alabaster’s gaze flicked to him, then to Luke, standing just behind Percy, poised to strike. Luke was aiming for Percy.

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he saw the trap. “No,” he tried to warn, but the words came out in a strained whisper.

Alabaster’s smile grew wider. “Now,” he said, his voice laced with malevolent satisfaction.

Jason’s heart sank as he watched helplessly. In a blur of motion, Luke turned on Alabaster, stabbing him in the back. Alabaster’s eyes widened, but his grin never faded. As if enjoying the chaos he had sewn, he fell backward off the mountain, his body disappearing into the mist below.

He wasn’t dead—Jason knew it. Alabaster's haunting smile said it all.

Luke quickly rushed to Jason’s side, helping him up. Percy, still trying to process what had just happened, turned to them. “Do we have any water?” Percy asked, his voice tight with urgency.

Luke nodded, fumbling for a canteen. Percy took it and used the water to heal Jason’s wound, watching in relief as the bleeding slowed and the torn flesh began to mend. Jason winced, but after a few moments, the pain subsided enough for him to sit up.

“Thanks,” Jason muttered, still dazed from the fight. Percy and Luke exchanged a silent glance, the weight of their victory—and the cost of it—hanging heavily in the air.

“Alabaster’s not gone,” Percy finally said, his voice grim. “We’ll see him again.”

Jason nodded, his face pale but resolute. "Next time, we'll be ready."

Chapter Text

PERCY

At the top of Mount Tam, Percy felt the weight of the air shift—thicker, more oppressive. His eyes locked onto the hulking figure before them, a towering Titan with immense hands straining against an invisible burden. The Titan's grunts of exertion echoed ominously through the mist. The realization hit Percy like a wave—this was Atlas, the Titan forced to bear the weight of the sky on his shoulders.

Fear radiated from Atlas, so palpable that Percy had to fight the urge to step back, his heart racing. It wasn't just fear—it was something primal, a terror that gnawed at his insides, making him want to shrink away, to escape. He forced himself to stand firm, gripping his sword tighter as if that would steady his nerves.

Atlas's gaze remained fixed on the ground, a twisted grin curling on his lips as he chuckled to himself. "Foolish," the Titan rasped, his voice like gravel grinding against stone. "Foolish demigods, coming here to meet the Terror of the Olympians."

His laugh boomed through the mountain range, a sound so dark and malicious that it felt as though the mountain itself trembled in response. Percy exchanged a glance with Jason and Luke, both equally on edge, the weight of Atlas's presence nearly suffocating.

"You dare to approach me?" Atlas's voice dripped with contempt. His head tilted slightly, though he never looked directly at them. "Tell me, are you here to taunt me? To mock my eternal punishment?"

The Titan muttered to himself, the words barely audible but filled with venom. "The Fates are cruel indeed…"

Percy swallowed hard, his throat dry. "We’re not here to taunt you," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "We’re here for something else."

Atlas let out a low, menacing chuckle, finally lifting his gaze, eyes glinting with malevolent amusement. "And what, pray tell, could you possibly want from me? You, who are mere specks compared to the power I once wielded?"

The sheer force of Atlas's presence was overwhelming, but Percy stood his ground. This was Atlas—the Titan who had defied the gods and now bore the punishment of holding up the sky. And here they were, standing in his shadow, on the verge of something far bigger than they could comprehend.

Luke, unable to hold his tongue, stepped forward. His voice was cold, sharp. "Kronos won the war, why didn’t he free you?" he asked, his tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "Why leave you here, still holding up the sky?"

Atlas's laugh was deep and cruel, rumbling through the air like distant thunder. "Kronos? My younger brother is a coward," Atlas spat. "He fears what he cannot control. My strength conquers all, even the Titans know that. I am too dangerous a weapon. And besides, who else could hold the sky for all eternity?" His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he straightened, his massive shoulders still straining beneath the weight of the sky.

His voice grew quieter but more sinister as he continued. "Kronos filled my head with lies during the first war. He told me not to worry about the ants I crushed beneath my feet. 'If you’re concerned with them,' he said, 'you’ll never be able to walk.' And I listened. It made me careless." His eyes narrowed on the group, measuring them.

Jason stepped up now, his jaw set with determination. "We’re on a quest."

Atlas chuckled darkly. "I know. You think you’re searching for something important, something vital, but you’re looking in the wrong place." His voice turned icy, his words a clear warning. "Leave, before you doom yourselves."

Percy spoke up, unwilling to back down. "The prophecy says we release a Titan from their curse."

Atlas paused, a fleeting expression of pity crossing his face. "Your quest is in vain, boy," he said softly, his voice holding a strange sadness. "You seek to release me, perhaps, but you cannot. I am too powerful to be freed. And even if I were, I would not give this burden to a mortal—it would be a death sentence." His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Leave, now. Consider this your warning."

Percy's heart raced as a sudden realization hit him—Atlas was the Bane of Olympus, the Titan the prophecy spoke of. It had to be him. His breath quickened as the truth sank in.

Atlas chuckled again, as if reading Percy’s mind. "Unfortunately, I am not your Bane." His eyes bore into Percy, gleaming with malice.

"There is power in sacrificing innocence, boy. A tale as old as time."

Percy blinked, confused. "What does that mean?"

Atlas merely smiled, a dark, twisted grin. "You’ll find out soon enough." The weight of his words hung in the air, chilling Percy to the bone.

Before Percy could process Atlas's cryptic words, a chilling roar echoed through the mountains. The ground trembled beneath their feet as Kronos’s forces arrived—an army of monsters and enemy demigods spilling over the ridge. The monsters ranged from hulking Cyclopes to slithering dracaenae, each more grotesque than the last. But none dared step too close to Atlas, his power radiating like a deadly aura.

Atlas’s grin widened, his gaze shifting from the incoming forces to Percy. “You should have been more careful with who you trusted, boy,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Kronos always plays the long game.”

Percy’s heart sank as his eyes darted from the approaching army to Luke, then to Jason. Was Atlas right? Could Luke, or someone else, be playing them all along? He didn’t have time to think. The monsters were closing in fast, surrounding them, keeping a deliberate distance from the Titan but eager to crush the demigods.

Jason readied his gladius, sparks of lightning flickering along the blade. Luke stepped forward, but his expression remained unreadable. Percy unsheathed Riptide, his mind racing, trying to figure out a plan.

"Stay close," Percy said under his breath to his friends, gripping his sword tighter.

Atlas watched with amusement, his booming laughter echoing across the mountain. “You think you stand a chance against what’s coming? You’re nothing but pawns in a game far greater than you can imagine.”

The demigods steeled themselves, backs against each other, facing the army closing in on all sides. Percy’s pulse raced—this was it. The battle had begun.

The battle erupted in a frenzy of chaos. Percy moved with the fury of the sea itself, his strikes swift and unrelenting. Monsters fell before him, dissolving into golden dust with every slash of Riptide. His movements were a blur, his instincts honed to perfection. It was as if the sword was an extension of his arm, cutting through foes with the precision of a master warrior. The air around him shimmered with the aftermath of his strikes, dust swirling like a storm of victory as he tore through his enemies.

Jason and Luke were just as lethal, though their fighting styles were worlds apart. Luke fought like a serpent—fast, agile, his sword a flash of silver as he weaved through enemy demigods, leaving behind deep, fatal slashes. His strikes were quick and vicious, his movements fluid as water, but every slash was precise, calculated, meant to disable or kill.

Jason, on the other hand, was a force of nature. His gladius thrust forward with brutal accuracy, his attacks less about finesse and more about overwhelming power. Lightning crackled around him, and with each stab, he sent his foes reeling. He fought like the storm, his blows thunderous, each strike of his sword an explosion of energy. Yet despite his power, there was grace in his movements—a balance of aggression and control that made him a fearsome opponent.

Together, Jason and Luke fought like a deadly dance. Luke’s slashes disoriented their enemies, and Jason’s strikes followed, plunging deep into their defenses. While Luke spun through their ranks like a hurricane, Jason was the lightning bolt that struck when their guard was down.

The enemy demigods fell quickly, clutching at their fatal wounds, and the monsters barely stood a chance. But despite their skill, the numbers kept coming—wave after wave of Kronos’s forces flooding the battlefield.

Percy, his body coated in the golden dust of his defeated enemies, didn’t let up. He felt the weight of the prophecy pressing down on him, pushing him to fight harder, faster. Every time he thought he’d cut down the last foe, another would lunge at him. He couldn’t let them win. Not here. Not now.

“Percy!” Jason shouted, fending off a dracaena with a lightning-charged stab. “There’s too many of them!”

Luke was beside him, gritting his teeth as he disarmed an enemy demigod and swiftly finished him. “We need to find a way out—fast!”

But Percy didn’t answer.

The battlefield roared with chaos as more enemies swarmed them, Kronos’s forces multiplying seemingly out of nowhere. The air crackled with a surge of lightning, and lightning bolts rained down on the demigods. Percy had dodged it and so did Luke. Percy and Luke looked at Jason, who shook his head in disbelief.

Before them, a figure hovered above the fray, her presence commanding. She floated in the air, her choppy black hair dancing in the wind, and power radiated off her like a storm. Jason’s eyes widened, his voice barely a whisper. “Thalia…”

Shock rippled through Jason’s body, freezing him for a moment as he stared at the one person he had longed to see again—his sister. But this wasn’t the Thalia he remembered. Something was off. Her eyes gleamed unnaturally gold, and in her hand, she held Aegis, the fearsome shield of Medusa, a shield that radiated an aura of terror that sent shivers down the spine.

Before Percy could react, Thalia attacked, rushing toward him with Aegis raised. The shield emitted a pulse of fear so intense that Percy felt it clawing at his mind. He gritted his teeth, trying to resist, but then came the crackling bolt of electricity. It struck Percy square in the chest, and the world blurred as he was flung back, skidding across the ground. He landed hard next to Atlas, his body throbbing from the impact.

Atlas, still struggling under his eternal burden, glanced down at Percy, his face twisted with grim amusement. “The girl is under Kronos’s control,” he muttered, his voice thick with disdain. “Manipulated, just like so many others. Foolish to think you could save her.”

Percy’s heart pounded as he struggled to his feet. He saw Luke a short distance away, slicing through the monsters with deadly precision, his movements fluid and merciless. With a roar, Percy slammed his sword into the ground, summoning a violent tremor. The earth quaked beneath the enemy forces, and several monsters stumbled, vanishing into the abyss his earthquake created.

But as Percy took in the battlefield, his focus shifted. Jason was locked in a deadly fight with Thalia. Percy could see it clearly now: Jason wasn’t fighting at full strength. His strikes were hesitant, his movements slower, as if he were holding back, unwilling to hurt her.

Thalia, on the other hand, showed no such hesitation. Her attacks were relentless, lightning sparking from her fingertips as she assaulted Jason with both her shield and her power. Each blow she dealt to him pushed him further back, and Percy could see the strain in Jason’s face, the anguish of fighting his own sister.

Percy’s heart clenched in fear. Jason was going to get himself killed.

“Jason!” Percy yelled, forcing himself to stand, even though his muscles screamed in protest. “What are you doing? You can’t hold back—she’ll kill you!”

Jason didn’t respond, his eyes locked on Thalia with a mixture of desperation and sorrow. Percy could see the inner struggle in Jason’s every move. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt her, not after everything they had been through.

But Thalia, with her golden eyes and the twisted influence of Kronos, showed no mercy.

“She’s not your sister right now, Jason!” Percy shouted, his voice cutting through the battle’s din. “You have to fight her!”

Jason’s resolve wavered, his sword lowering slightly as he faced his corrupted sister. In his eyes, Percy saw the pain of a brother torn between loyalty and survival.

As Percy struggled to his feet, Atlas’s booming voice cut through the chaos of the battlefield. His deep black eyes finally lifted from the invisible burden above him, locking onto Percy with an intensity that made the demigod’s heart race.

“Loyalty,” Atlas rumbled, his voice thick with derision. “That is Jason’s fatal flaw.”

Percy’s gaze darted back to Jason, who was still hesitating in his fight with Thalia, unable to bring himself to land a decisive blow. He was trapped in the bonds of his own devotion, his fierce loyalty to his sister stopping him from doing what needed to be done.

Atlas sneered, his lips curling as he continued, “He will never be strong enough to make the hard choices. His loyalty blinds him, weakens him. But you…” Atlas’s eyes bore into Percy’s, a dark grin spreading across his face. “You are different. Your fatal flaw is far more dangerous.”

Percy clenched his fists, the tension in his body building. He could feel the weight of Atlas’s words sinking into his bones, stirring something deep inside him.

“Wrath,” Atlas whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “You hide it well, boy, but it burns inside you like a storm. I can see it in your eyes—the anger, the fury. You’re just waiting for a reason to unleash it.”

Percy’s breath quickened as he stared back at Atlas, the words digging into his mind like poison. The Titan’s dark gaze held him captive, and Percy could feel the rage bubbling inside him, the anger at everything he had been through, everything that had been taken from him.

Atlas’s laugh echoed through the air, a mocking, terrible sound. “Show it, Percy Jackson. Show your true power. Give in to your wrath, and you might just stand a chance against my brother’s forces. Let it loose, and do what Jason cannot.”

Percy’s hands tightened around his sword, his knuckles turning white. He glanced back at Jason, who was struggling with Thalia, his hesitation costing him with every passing second. Thalia’s corrupted form struck him again and again, and Jason, bound by his love for his sister, couldn’t bring himself to fight back with full force.

“Jason’s loyalty will be his undoing,” Atlas taunted. “But your wrath… your rage… that will be your salvation.”

Percy’s mind raced. He could feel the anger building, the frustration, the desire to protect his friends, to destroy anyone who stood in their way. His fatal flaw was wrath—and right now, every part of him wanted to embrace it.

But at what cost?

Percy’s eyes flicked back to Atlas, who watched him with cruel satisfaction, waiting for him to snap, waiting for him to give in.

The rage Percy had been suppressing finally surged through his body like a wildfire. His every step made the ground tremble beneath him, his eyes blazing with a barely contained fury. He leaped into the fray, cutting through the monsters with brutal efficiency. Golden dust exploded in the air as his sword found the necks of countless enemies, decapitating them in swift succession.

In the chaos, Percy caught sight of Jason, who was clearly struggling. Thalia, his sister, was relentless, her spear flashing like lightning as she overwhelmed him. Jason, desperate, was trying to talk her out of Kronos' manipulation, his words falling on deaf ears. He barely managed to block her strikes, blood seeping from cuts on his arms and face. With a final, powerful strike, Thalia sent him crashing to the ground, winded and vulnerable.

Luke was still engaged in his own fight, surrounded by a small horde of monsters, unable to help. Percy’s blood boiled as he saw Jason struggling, Thalia advancing on him. Without thinking, he pounced on her, throwing himself into the fight for Jason’s sake.

Thalia met him head-on, her golden eyes cold and unyielding. Her spear lashed out, cutting Percy across the arm. He barely felt it, his rage numbing him to the pain. But Thalia was better—faster, more skilled. She spun around, her spear slashing at him again, cutting deep across his shoulder.

Percy gritted his teeth, shrugging off the pain, but he knew he was at a disadvantage. Thalia was relentless, her movements precise, almost mechanical in their efficiency. Every time Percy lunged or swung his sword, she was already two steps ahead, parrying and countering with deadly accuracy.

He could feel the weight of his anger pressing on him, urging him to unleash even more, to tear through everything in his path. But Thalia was different. This wasn’t just another enemy—this was Jason’s sister. Someone who had once fought beside them. She was under Kronos’s control, but she wasn’t lost. Not yet.

Percy dodged another strike, barely avoiding the electrified tip of her spear, and found himself on the defensive, struggling to keep up with her speed and precision. He knew he couldn’t defeat her in a straight fight—she was too good.

But he wasn’t going to give up. Not with Jason lying there, hurt and vulnerable. Not with Luke still fighting for his life. Percy would find a way, no matter what it took.

"Thalia!" he shouted between the clashing of weapons, hoping some part of her could still hear him. "This isn't you! Fight it!"

But Thalia showed no signs of recognition. Her face was a mask of cold determination, and Percy knew this fight was far from over.

As the thunderbolt struck down, Percy was too exhausted to move. He braced himself, feeling the searing energy ripple through his body. Smoke billowed around him, but amid the haze, he felt something different, something foreign inside him. There was a strange tug in his gut, an unnatural sensation, as though something deep within him had broken—a glass ball, shattering inside him. His throat burned, as if he were swallowing shards of glass, and yet, despite the pain, he pulled on whatever invisible force he had grasped.

Suddenly, Thalia was yanked to the side, her movements jerky and unnatural. Her body wasn’t responding as it should, and her face contorted with fear, the expression of someone trapped in their own skin. Her golden eyes, once so fierce, were wide with terror. Percy’s hand lifted involuntarily, and his fingers curled into a choking gesture. Thalia gasped, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe, her eyes pleading for release.

Percy’s anger surged. His fury had taken control, and he realized—he wasn’t just fighting her anymore. He was controlling her. Her blood.

The horrifying realization sent a wave of nausea through him, but his hand remained raised. He could feel it, the pulse of her blood under his control, her life essence responding to his rage. Thalia’s body convulsed as she fought against his power, her breath shallow and ragged, her terror palpable.

"Percy, stop!" Jason’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with desperation. He was on his feet now, his voice laced with disbelief and fear. "You're killing her! Stop!"

Percy’s eyes flickered toward Jason, the plea snapping him out of the violent trance. His hand trembled, still hovering in the air, and he could see the horror in Jason's eyes, the disbelief at what he was witnessing. With a shuddering breath, Percy forced himself to let go, dropping his hand and severing the unnatural connection.

Thalia collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, her body finally her own again. Percy stood there, his heart pounding, the taste of glass still sharp in his throat. The weight of what he’d done, what he almost became, crashed over him like a tidal wave. He’d let his anger take him too far.

“I’m sorry,” Percy whispered, his voice hoarse. He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to—Thalia, Jason, or himself. Maybe all of them.

As Thalia crawled toward the pond, Percy’s heart sank. He recognized the creature emerging from the water—it was Bessie, the gentle sea creature he had once saved. What was she doing here?

"The Opiotaurus," Atlas’s voice whispered, "whoever sacrifices it gains the power to destroy Olympus. The true bane of Olympus."

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Atlas’s voice echoed in his mind, cold and calculating. There is power in sacrificing innocence.

Percy’s eyes widened in horror. Thalia, under Kronos’ manipulation, was about to do the unthinkable. She was going to sacrifice Bessie to gain the power to overthrow the gods. He couldn’t let that happen.

With a surge of adrenaline, Percy lunged toward Thalia, shoving her away from the innocent creature. She stumbled back, her eyes flashing with rage and confusion. Luke, fresh from his victory over the monsters, was quicker. He delivered a swift kick to Thalia, sending her tumbling down the side of the mountain.

Jason coughed, spitting blood onto the rocky ground, barely able to stand. Percy’s gaze flicked between Jason and the fallen Thalia, his mind racing. Thalia was still Jason’s sister. Despite everything, despite her manipulation by Kronos, Percy knew that Jason couldn’t bear another loss. Not now. Not after everything they’d been through.

“Jason…” Percy began, his voice thick with regret.

Jason staggered forward, clutching his side where blood trickled down his armor. He glanced at Percy, his eyes filled with pain, but not anger. "She’s still my sister," Jason muttered, his voice strained. "We can’t… we can’t just let her die."

Percy clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on him. He couldn’t stand the thought of Jason losing Thalia—not like this, not because of Kronos’ twisted manipulation. But at the same time, they were on the brink of something catastrophic. Bessie’s life was at stake, and the fate of Olympus hung in the balance.

Bessie, oblivious to the danger, swam lazily in the pond, its innocence a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding them.

Percy took a deep breath. “We’ll get her back, Jason. We’ll find a way.”

Jason nodded weakly, though his eyes were filled with uncertainty.

"She will survive", Atlas' deep voice announced to the demigods. There was something in Atlas’s words that felt more like a warning than reassurance.

Atlas' deep voice reverberated in Percy’s mind, cold and distant. "But you cannot save everyone, Son of Poseidon."

Percy stopped for a moment, glancing back at Atlas, whose immense figure was still bent beneath the invisible weight of the sky.

Jason and Luke, both battered and bloodied but still standing, joined him as they regrouped, their bodies tense with exhaustion and relief.

They moved cautiously, ready to leave the mountain and the looming threat of Atlas behind them. They turned to leave the mountain - their work here was done. But just as they reached the path down, Percy heard Atlas’s voice again directly in his mind, telepathic and cryptic.

"Do not expect Truth in a world of lies. It will be your downfall."

Percy paused mid-step, his heart racing. He hesitated, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Why are you telling me all of this?" Percy asked in his mind, half-expecting Atlas to ignore him.

But the Titan responded, his voice carrying an unfamiliar weight of regret. "The titan you will free - You will meet her soon. Tell her... I am sorry."

Percy’s stomach twisted at the words.

Jason called out to him, snapping him back to reality. Percy shook his head, the heaviness of Atlas's words settling like a stone in his gut. He didn't understand what it all meant, but he knew one thing for sure—this wasn’t the end. Far from it.

Chapter Text

JASON

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he walked alongside Percy and Luke, his mind racing with the weight of his thoughts. The encounter on Mount Tam still lingered in his mind like a bitter aftertaste. He had never expected his sister Thalia to fall under Kronos’s influence—just like he had once been. The mere idea that he’d let that happen gnawed at him, and for the first time, he wondered if he’d failed as a brother.

Thalia is still alive. Atlas’s words rang in his ears. But where? And how much of herself was left? The uncertainty was suffocating.

Adding to the uncertainty was the quest, they had no direction—nowhere to go, yet everywhere to be. Luke was silent, his face clouded, lost in his own troubles, while Jason kept his gaze trained on the horizon, though his mind was elsewhere.

Percy, walking a step ahead, suddenly stopped. “Do you guys see that?” he asked, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Luke blinked, snapping out of his daze. “See what?”

Jason squinted and, after a moment, saw it too. “Oh no…”

Ahead, a giant figure loomed about a hundred feet away, standing ominously against the dimming sky. It towered over eight feet tall, draped in what looked like a tattered bear skin thrown haphazardly over glinting armor. In one hand, the figure clutched a massive sword—easily six feet long—and dragged it along the ground with a harsh, scraping noise that echoed across the empty landscape.

The figure was closing in, step by slow, deliberate step.

“Run,” Percy muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Run,” Jason repeated, the urgency breaking through his fear.

They didn’t wait for another word.

The three of them ran, their feet pounding against the hard ground as they darted between trees and over uneven terrain. The distant clank of the sword being dragged along the ground echoed behind them, but it was growing fainter as they sped away. Jason’s lungs burned, but adrenaline pushed him forward.

Finally, they stumbled into a clearing—a junkyard, littered with rusted metal scraps, broken down cars, and twisted remains of machinery. In the middle of it all, a stream of water trickled lazily, cutting a clear path through the debris. Jason stopped, breathing heavily as he looked around.

“I think… I think we’re safe,” he said, bending over to catch his breath. Percy and Luke stood beside him, both panting from the sprint.

For a brief moment, there was silence, only the soft gurgle of the stream and the wind whistling through the heaps of junk.

“Don’t say that,” Percy muttered, shaking his head, as if he knew what was coming next.

And he was right. From behind one of the larger wrecks, the giant figure appeared, stepping into view as though he had materialized from the shadows themselves. The ground seemed to tremble with each step he took, and that familiar, grating sound of the sword dragging across the ground filled the air once more.

Jason’s heart dropped. “No…”

The giant stopped a few yards away from them, his cold eyes gleaming under the ragged bear skin. His mouth twisted into a sneer, and Jason could now see the cruel scar that slashed across his face. It stretched from his temple to his chin, giving his sneer a menacing, almost predatory quality. His gaze shifted between Jason, Luke, and Percy, as though he were sizing them up, deciding in what order he’d take them down.

“You can’t run from war,” the figure said, his voice deep and thunderous, carrying the weight of inevitability. “It’s always waiting. I’m always waiting.”

He lifted the sword, resting it across his broad shoulders. “War is inevitable. I am inevitable.”

Jason’s blood ran cold as recognition hit him like a blow to the chest. He had heard of this man, this towering force of destruction with the sneer and the scar. The aura of violence that hung around him like a storm cloud.

“Ares,” Jason whispered.

The god of war grinned. “Took you long enough,”

Ares took a step forward, his grin widening as he looked over the three of them like a predator eyeing its prey. His massive sword gleamed under the pale light of the junkyard, and the sound of it scraping against his armor sent shivers down Jason’s spine. Percy and Luke shifted, ready to move, but it was clear that there was nowhere to run.

“You three,” Ares began, his voice a rumble that seemed to vibrate in the air, “are good warriors. I’ll give you that.” He paced slowly, his gaze sharp, taking his time as if savoring the moment. “You’ve fought hard, bled, and survived when most would’ve fallen.”

Jason, Percy, and Luke remained silent, their bodies tense, poised for whatever came next. But there was no mistaking the weight in Ares’s words. He wasn’t here for a casual conversation.

Ares chuckled darkly. “But you’ve chosen the wrong side. It’s a shame, really. I almost pity you.”

Jason’s pulse quickened. His thoughts scrambled as he tried to figure out what Ares meant. What side? Kronos’s side? Olympus? It didn’t matter now. The god of war wasn’t here to debate.

Ares hefted his sword, holding it out in front of him, the edge glinting in the dim light. “You see, my duty as the sword of Olympus… it’s not just to fight battles. It’s to end them. It’s to protect the balance. And right now, that means killing you.”

Jason’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel the tension from Percy and Luke beside him—Percy’s knuckles were white as he gripped his sword, and Luke’s eyes were darting, searching for a way out. But Ares had made it clear: there was no escaping war.

Jason’s grip on his weapon tightened, his mind racing. There had to be something—some way to turn this around. But Ares was no ordinary enemy. He was a god, the god of war, and Jason knew that they were standing on the edge of a battle none of them were prepared for.

Ares took another step closer, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement. “So, what’s it gonna be, boys? You gonna fight, or die tired?”

Percy stepped forward, his eyes blazing with determination. “We’ll fight,” he said, his voice steady despite the weight of Ares's challenge.

Ares’s sneer deepened. “Tough kid,” he said, shaking his head in mock approval. “Dying with honour, I like that.”

The god of war raised his sword, the blade shimmering with a dangerous red glow as his aura spread across the battlefield. “Three of you against me,” he said, his tone turning deadly serious. “To the death.”

Luke gripped his sword, his face grim. “So this is it,” he muttered under his breath, preparing himself for the inevitable clash.

Ares moved first, faster than they expected for someone his size. His presence seemed to warp the air, a raw, suffocating power that pressed down on them like a tidal wave. Jason could feel it—the god’s aura, radiating terror, making his knees weak and his breath shallow. Ares glowed red, an inferno of rage and bloodlust.

Jason, known for his swordsmanship, launched himself at Ares, but it was like trying to cut through stone. His swings, though skilled, were slow compared to Ares’s brutal strength. Each time Jason struck, Ares deflected it with a mere flick of his wrist, his massive sword moving with ease.

Luke and Percy joined the fray, attacking in tandem, their strikes fast and coordinated. But Ares barely acknowledged them, his red aura flaring as he brushed off their blows like they were nothing more than annoyances.

Jason’s heart sank. He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t strong enough. Luke and Percy, even together, couldn’t keep Ares off-balance. The god was untouchable.

Suddenly, Jason had an idea. He looked around, taking in the rusting cars piled up around the junkyard. In a flash, he lunged toward one, slashing his sword down with all his strength. The car split in half, sending metal cascading down like an avalanche. The wreckage tumbled into other cars, creating a chain reaction. In moments, a mountain of crushed vehicles collapsed onto Ares.

Jason staggered back, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with disbelief. Percy and Luke stood beside him, weapons ready, as they watched the pile of debris. For a brief moment, silence hung in the air.

Then, booming laughter erupted from beneath the rubble.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Ares’s voice rumbled, echoing across the junkyard.

In an explosion of force, the cars were flung high into the air, spinning like toys before crashing down around them. Ares stood, unharmed, his eyes blazing with fury.

Their efforts had only enraged him.

Without warning, Ares charged, moving with terrifying speed. His sword flashed, and Jason barely had time to react. He dodged, but not quickly enough—a brutal nick carved across his shoulder, and he was thrown back by the sheer force of Ares’s blow.

Luke, surprisingly, fared the best. He dodged Ares’s attacks with agile movements, slipping past the god’s swings, but Ares was relentless. In a single swift motion, Ares’s boot connected with Luke’s chest, sending him flying. Luke crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Now it was just Percy.

Jason, gripping the soil beneath him, forced himself to rise. Pain shot through his body, but he couldn’t leave Percy to face Ares alone. He staggered to his feet, raising his hand as the sky above darkened.

With all his remaining strength, Jason summoned lightning.

Bolts of electricity struck down, but Ares barely flinched. He absorbed the energy, the red glow around him intensifying. Jason’s eyes met Percy’s for a brief second, and in that instant, they understood each other.

Percy turned toward the stream.

He raised his hands, commanding the water to surge forward. The stream obeyed, twisting and spiraling through the air before wrapping itself around Ares’s body. For the first time, the god of war looked irritated.

Ares backhanded Percy with a casual swipe, sending him flying across the battlefield. Percy hit the ground hard, groaning in pain.

Jason, his body trembling from exhaustion, called down the lightning again, directing it at Ares who was surrounded by water.

The sky cracked open with light, and a series of powerful strikes rained down on the god of war. Smoke erupted, thick and blinding, filling the air with the smell of ozone.

Jason collapsed to one knee, his vision blurred, barely holding on. Through the haze of smoke, he desperately searched for any sign that they had weakened Ares.

As the smoke began to clear, Jason’s heart sank deeper than ever before. He could see the silhouette emerging—massive, unmoved, and unscathed. Ares stepped forward, brushing off the dust and smoke like it was nothing, his crimson aura burning even brighter than before. His sneer was gone, replaced by a look of grim amusement, as if this whole thing had been a game to him from the start.

Jason’s legs gave out, and he dropped to both knees. His sword hung limp in his hand, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. He felt something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

Hopelessness.

There was no way out of this. He, Percy, and Luke—they were all going to die here. Ares would kill them, and that would be the end of their stories. And for what? For standing in the way of gods who never cared about them in the first place? For being pawns in a war they never asked for?

Jason’s vision blurred as he looked up at the sky. Olympus. It loomed over them, distant, cold, and uncaring, like it always had been. His family had been shattered by these gods. His sister, Thalia, manipulated by Kronos, dragged into the chaos. His father, Zeus—Jupiter—whoever he wanted to be—was never there. Never there when it mattered.

Rage, bitter and raw, surged in Jason’s chest.

“You… you’re the worst,” Jason muttered, his voice shaking with anger. He clenched his fists, feeling the dirt beneath his nails. He glared up at the sky, his eyes stinging with tears of frustration. “Olympus…"

The words poured out of him, venomous and unstoppable. “You ruin everything. You took my family. You took Thalia. You left us to suffer because you were too busy with your stupid pride!”

He felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. The betrayal, the pain, the overwhelming sense of abandonment.

“And you,” Jason spat, his voice rising in a mix of rage and despair. “Jupiter, Zeus, whatever you want to call yourself. You think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you? Watching from your throne while the rest of us bleed for you. I hope you rot in Tartarus.”

His voice cracked, and he could feel the tears threatening to spill. He didn’t care anymore. They were going to die here, at the hands of a god who didn’t care about them, for gods who never cared about them.

Jason’s vision blurred as he kept his eyes on the sky. Maybe this was how it ended. Maybe this was his punishment for failing his sister, for getting caught in this war.

In the blink of an eye, Ares moved—faster than Jason could process. One moment he was standing, staring up at the sky, and the next, Ares’s massive hand was wrapped around his throat, lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing. Jason’s breath hitched as he felt the cold, unyielding pressure around his neck. He struggled, his hands clawing at Ares’s iron grip, but it was no use. The god’s strength was overwhelming.

Jason’s face turned red as he fought to breathe, the edges of his vision growing dark. Ares’s eyes gleamed with something far more dangerous than mere amusement now—there was cruelty, cold and deliberate, in his stare.

“You’re a failure,” Ares growled, his voice like gravel, cutting deep into Jason’s mind.

Jason’s chest tightened, but not just from the lack of air. In the quiet of his own thoughts, he agreed. I failed Thalia. I failed Luke. I failed Percy. His gaze flickered to Luke, still lying unconscious on the ground, defenseless, vulnerable. Then his eyes shifted to Percy—desperation and terror etched on his face as he crawled toward the small stream of water. Percy was terrified. He looked like he was out of options, like the fight had been drained from him.

And then Jason saw it. A shadow in the corner of his vision, near the stream—a black shape. His heart lurched as he recognized it. The Opiotaurus. It was following Percy.

Atlas had spoken of it. The creature whose sacrifice could grant someone the power to overthrow the gods.

Percy, no…

Jason tried to speak, tried to shout, but all that escaped was a strangled gasp. His vision blurred as Ares squeezed tighter, cutting off what little air he had left. Desperation surged through Jason, every fiber of him screaming to stop Percy.

“Percy… no…” Jason choked, the words barely escaping his throat.

Ares, hearing Jason’s hoarse plea, paused. His brow furrowed in confusion. The god’s grip loosened slightly as he turned his attention to Percy, just in time to see him raise his blade.

Percy’s hands were shaking. His face was twisted with regret and grief, as though he were about to kill something far more than a mere creature, a friend. His sword hovered over the Opiotaurus for a moment—just a moment of hesitation—and then, with a sickening stab, he plunged the blade down.

There was a blinding flash of light.

Jason gasped as Ares’s grip slackened completely, and he was thrown back with a violent force, his body crashing into a pile of rusted cars. The metal groaned under the impact, and Jason landed hard, the world spinning around him.

He blinked, his vision blurry, his body aching. Through the haze, he saw Percy standing at the center of it all, glowing with an ethereal light. His entire body was radiating power, something ancient and terrifying. Jason could barely believe what he was seeing.

Ares, too, had been flung back. He groaned, staggering to his feet, but there was something different about him now. His bravado, his arrogance—it was gone. For the first time, Jason saw something in Ares that he never thought possible.

Fear.

The god of war clutched his side, a golden streak of ichor—the blood of the gods—running down his forehead. The mark of divine injury. He stared at Percy, eyes wide with disbelief, and the cold sneer had melted into something more human. More vulnerable.

“You’re crazy,” Ares rasped, his voice raw with panic. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

Jason could see it now. Ares was truly afraid, and not just for himself—but for the balance of everything. Percy had done the impossible. He had wounded a god. He had taken the power to challenge Olympus itself.

And as Percy stood there, glowing with unimaginable power, Jason couldn’t help but feel the weight of what had just happened. They had crossed a line—a line that could never be undone.

Jason’s head throbbed, and every breath he took sent pain shooting through his ribs. He struggled to sit up, his limbs weak and trembling, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Percy. There was something different about him now, something raw and terrifying. His friend was no longer just the son of Poseidon; he was power incarnate, anger and vengeance pouring out of him like a storm.

Percy’s eyes burned with hatred as he glared at Ares. His knuckles were white from how tightly he gripped his sword, and the tension in his voice was palpable. "You did this, Ares," Percy growled. His voice was low, dangerous, and filled with a wrath Jason had never heard from him before. "And now you’ll face the consequences."

Without warning, Percy lunged at Ares, his sword cutting through the air with blinding speed. Ares barely had time to raise his own sword, blocking the strike, but the force of Percy’s attack pushed him back, his feet skidding across the ground. The god of war’s face twisted in surprise and anger.

“I am the god of war!” Ares bellowed, his voice booming across the battlefield. “The sword of Olympus! You are nothing!”

Percy didn’t respond. He wasn’t listening. All he cared about was ending this—ending Ares. With a burst of speed, he dashed into Ares again, their swords clashing with a deafening ring. Sparks flew as they exchanged blows, each strike more furious than the last. To Jason’s shock, Percy was holding his own against the god. But Jason could see the truth—Ares was still stronger, still more experienced. Percy was powerful, but the god of war was relentless.

Jason tried to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. His muscles screamed in protest, and the pain in his side flared with every movement. All he could do was watch as Percy fought with everything he had. He had never seen Percy like this before—this wasn’t just a fight for survival. It was personal.

The earth suddenly trembled, and the ground beneath Ares erupted in a violent explosion, throwing the god to the side. Before Ares could recover, Percy slammed his sword down, knocking Ares’s weapon to the ground. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he saw Percy’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening on his sword.

Percy stabbed Ares, the blade sinking deep into the god’s chest. Ares gasped, his face contorting with pain as Percy leaned in, his voice ice-cold. “Where will you go when you die?” Percy asked, his words laced with venom.

Ares’s eyes flickered with something that might have been fear, but it was quickly replaced by fury. “I’ll have my revenge,” he spat, his voice weak but filled with rage. 

But when Ares tried to move, to teleport away, his body failed him. Panic flashed in his eyes. He looked down, and Jason realized what was happening—Percy had grabbed hold of Ares’s ichor, the golden blood of the gods. Somehow, Percy was controlling it, manipulating the very essence of Ares’s life force.

Ares struggled, his form flickering like a dying flame. His body was fading, growing weaker by the second. Percy’s hand clenched tighter, and Jason could see the strain on his face, the toll this power was taking on him. He looked like he was on the brink of death. But Percy didn’t stop. He held Ares’s ichor with a death grip, refusing to let go until the god of war was nothing more than a fading memory.

With one final, furious roar, Ares vanished, his body dissolving into nothingness.

Percy collapsed to the ground, his body shuddering as the power left him. His face was pale, his breath ragged, but his eyes no longer burned with anger. They were empty, hollow, as if the battle had drained every ounce of life from him.

Jason tried to stand, his body trembling with effort. “Percy…” he rasped, reaching out as his vision swam. His own body was broken, but he couldn’t leave Percy like this. He had to help. He had to—

But his legs gave out, and Jason fell to the ground, clutching his side as darkness crept in around the edges of his vision. He heard Percy’s shallow breaths, saw his friend lying motionless on the ground, and then, everything went black.

The last thing Jason thought before slipping into unconsciousness was that he had failed again. This time, though, it felt final.

Chapter Text

PERCY

Percy’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he felt nothing but numbness. His body was heavy, like he was trapped beneath a weight he couldn’t lift. Panic rose in his chest as he tried to move, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. He felt paralyzed, his muscles refusing to obey him. With great effort, he managed to lift his head just enough to get a glimpse of his surroundings.

His vision was blurry at first, but as it cleared, he saw Jason and Luke a short distance away. They were standing, alive, though they both looked battered and bruised. Relief washed over him for a split second before he noticed something else—a third figure standing between them. A woman, tall and commanding, her posture rigid, as if she were carved from stone.

Her hair was blonde, almost glowing in the dim light, and her eyes were a piercing grey, sharp and calculating. For a moment, Percy’s heart jumped. Annabeth? he thought, hope flickering in his chest. But then he blinked, and the hope vanished. No, this wasn’t Annabeth.

This woman was too tall, and there was something about her that felt wrong—like a cold, stern authority. Where Annabeth’s eyes were full of warmth and determination, this woman’s gaze was sharp and unyielding, like she was sizing up a battlefield, not a group of injured demigods.

Percy’s mind raced as he struggled to remember what had happened before he blacked out. The fight with Ares. Bessie The Opiotaurus... Why did he do that? His fury. And then… nothing. He had no idea how they had survived. His thoughts were interrupted as he focused on the woman again. Jason and Luke were arguing with her, their voices rising in frustration, but Percy couldn’t make out what they were saying.

And then it hit him. He recognized her now.

Athena.

Percy’s breath caught in his throat. The goddess of wisdom and warfare. She stood before them with a presence that radiated power and intellect, her cold, calculating gaze sweeping over Jason and Luke as if they were pawns on a chessboard.

Jason looked angry, his hands clenched into fists, while Luke seemed almost pleading, his expression tight with frustration. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn’t going well.

He tried to move again, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He was still too weak, too drained from the fight. All he could do was watch, listen, and try to piece together what was happening.

Athena's words echoed in the air, cold and final. “Heed my warning,” she said, her voice like a blade. “For now, you are a threat to Olympus.”

Percy could feel the weight of her gaze on him, even as his body remained immobile. His chest tightened. She meant it. There was no ambiguity in her tone—Athena, the goddess of wisdom, had passed judgment. And it wasn’t just him. All three of them—Jason, Luke, and Percy—were in her crosshairs.

“You gods are cowards!” Luke shouted, his voice trembling with rage. “We’re doing your job! Your damn quest for you, and you send down Ares to kill us?”

Athena’s expression remained unmoved, her eyes narrowing only slightly. “Once your task is complete,” she said, her tone laced with indifference, “Olympus will have no further use for you. We cannot interfere with fate, but rest assured, your end is coming. Starting with you.” She pointed a long, sharp finger at Percy, her eyes gleaming with cruel intention.

Just as Percy’s panic began to rise, Jason acted without warning. A surge of energy rippled through the air, and with a sudden burst of fury, Jason threw a punch at Athena. His fist connected with her face, and to everyone’s shock, Athena stumbled back, her eyes widening in surprise.

The air crackled with tension, and time seemed to slow.

Jason’s breathing was heavy, his fists still clenched, his expression a mix of rage and reckless determination. “What now, huh?” Jason mocked, his voice dripping with defiance. “You gonna do something, or are you too scared to interfere with fate?”

Athena straightened, her face a mask of cold fury. Her hand moved instinctively toward her spear, but she stopped, her grey eyes narrowing as she studied Jason. She seemed to be calculating the consequences of her next move.

“You insolent fool,” Athena said, her voice venomous but restrained. “I could crush you where you stand, but you are already condemned. Fate will take its course.”

Jason laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Yeah? Maybe fate’s just another excuse for you gods to sit back and watch us suffer while you pull the strings. You say we’re a threat? Maybe it’s time you started fearing what you’ve created.”

Athena’s eyes flickered with something that might have been doubt, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. 

Percy, still paralyzed, could only watch in awe. Jason had just struck a goddess—Athena, no less—and lived to tell the tale.

Jason’s voice shook with barely contained emotion as he glared at Athena, his chest rising and falling with the force of his rage. “You killed her,” he spat, his voice cracking. “You killed your own daughter. Julia.”

Athena’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark passing over her features. Jason’s breath hitched as his anger boiled over, his grief fueling every word.

“You talk about fate and threats,” Jason continued, his voice rising, “but what about your own blood? You didn’t care about her, did you?” He pulled out his sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light as he pointed it directly at Athena. His hand shook, not from fear, but from the raw emotion coursing through him. “You deserve more than death. You deserve to suffer for what you’ve done.”

Athena’s expression shifted into something unreadable before a cold, humorless laugh escaped her lips. “You speak of suffering as if you know what that is, boy. I am a goddess, the goddess of wisdom and war. Your threats are meaningless. You are not a threat to me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles white. His eyes blazed with fury, and he stepped closer, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “I don’t care if I die. If it takes my last breath to make you pay for what you did to Julia, I’ll do it.”

Percy, still struggling to move, began to crawl up from where he lay, his muscles screaming in protest. His mind was still foggy, but he could sense the tension in the air, the danger. Jason was on the edge of something irreversible, and Athena—there was something wild in her eyes, something dark and primal that made Percy’s heart pound in his chest.

The goddess’s eyes glinted with a savage intensity. “You think you can stop me?” she said, her voice filled with dark amusement. “You think you can defy the gods and survive?” She turned her gaze toward Percy, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Now, let me do what Ares couldn’t. It’s time to rid the world of the real threat.”

Jason’s body tensed, his sword still aimed at Athena. “You won’t touch him,” he snarled.

But Athena’s eyes never left Percy. She raised her hand, her fingers glowing with an eerie light, as if she was preparing to unleash the full wrath of a goddess. The air around them grew thick with tension, and Percy’s breath came in shallow gasps as he struggled to push himself up. He felt the weight of her power pressing down on him, suffocating, as if the very air was charged with the presence of death itself.

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, and without thinking, he lunged at Athena, sword raised high.

In an instant, the world shifted.

Percy barely registered the surge of energy before he was ripped from the ground and hurled into the sky. The force was overwhelming, sending him rocketing upwards, higher and higher, until the earth became nothing more than a blur beneath him. His body tumbled uncontrollably, his limbs flailing as he soared through the clouds, higher than he had ever thought possible.

Through the disorienting spins and flashes of sky, Percy caught a glimpse of Jason below, sword still raised. His friend’s expression was twisted with fury and desperation as he tried to reach Athena. But before Jason could touch her, Athena vanished, dissolving into gold dust. She slipped from Jason’s grasp like a shadow, her cruel laughter echoing faintly in the distance before it disappeared with her.

The wind roared in his ears, and the atmosphere grew colder, thinner. He gasped for breath, but the air was disappearing, growing too thin to sustain him. His chest ached as he struggled to fill his lungs, but the altitude was too much. He was so high, he may as well have been Superman flying through the sky, far beyond where any mortal should go.

His vision blurred, his head growing light as the air thinned to nothing. His lungs screamed for oxygen, and darkness began to creep in at the edges of his vision.

He was too high. He couldn’t breathe.

With one last, desperate gasp, Percy’s body gave out. The world around him faded into a swirl of blue and white as he slipped into unconsciousness, the vast emptiness of the sky swallowing him whole.

Percy awoke, his body aching as if he had been hit by a truck. His mind was groggy, disoriented. He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious, nor how he had ended up here—wherever here was. Some sort of island? He could hear something, though, a sound that was soft and enchanting, like magic woven into melody. It was music, an instrument of some kind, the notes floating on the wind like a lullaby.

Surprisingly, he could move, though his muscles protested with every twitch. Slowly, carefully, he shifted his body and realized he was lying on some kind of soft surface—sand maybe, or grass. He wasn’t dead. That was a start.

Above him, just within his line of sight, sat a girl, around his age. Her beauty was striking—more captivating than anything Percy had ever seen, even more than Aphrodite herself. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves, brushing against her face as she played a golden instrument that Percy couldn’t quite recognize. It shimmered in the sunlight, producing a sound so pure, so serene, that it felt like the very air was singing along with it.

The girl was looking out toward the waves, her gaze distant, as if the sea held secrets only she could understand. There was a solemn smile on her lips, bittersweet, and her fingers moved gracefully across the strings of the instrument, producing melodies that tugged at something deep in Percy’s chest. She hadn’t noticed he was awake yet, and for a moment, Percy decided not to move. He just lay there, listening to the music, letting it wash over him like a gentle tide.

The tranquility was broken when Percy felt something soft brush against his forehead. He recoiled instinctively, his heart racing, and his eyes snapped open fully.

The girl gasped, her brown eyes widening in shock as she pulled her hand back quickly. She made rapid hand gestures, her expression panicked, as if trying to apologize. The gestures were clumsy but earnest, like she was saying something along the lines of I didn’t mean to startle you… or I’m sorry!

Percy blinked, his confusion melting away as he realized what she had been doing. She had just been checking his temperature. His lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice hoarse but reassuring.

The girl’s hands stilled, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she tilted her head, studying him for a moment as if unsure of what to say next. Percy shifted, wincing at the soreness in his limbs, but managed to prop himself up on one elbow. “Where… where am I?” he asked, his voice weak but steady. The girl didn’t answer with words, but her gaze softened, and the wind carried the soft echo of the sea in response, as if the island itself was trying to tell him something.

Percy watched as the girl opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Her lips moved, forming the shape of words, but nothing reached his ears. He frowned, puzzled, and she mirrored his expression, looking just as confused as he was.

She tried again, her mouth moving, but still, there was no sound—just silence.

“Uh… I’m sorry,” Percy said, feeling awkward. “I didn’t know… you were mute.”

The girl shook her head vigorously, her brow furrowing. It was clear she was trying to tell him something, to correct him. She wasn’t mute, or at least, she didn’t think she was. But no matter how hard she tried, no words escaped her lips. The more she tried to speak, the more frustrated she became, and her silence seemed to weigh heavier with each passing second.

Percy’s confusion deepened. If she wasn’t mute, then why couldn’t she speak? He had met plenty of strange beings in his time—gods, demigods, monsters—but this was something entirely new. His mind raced for an explanation, but nothing came.

The girl’s frustration boiled over. She clenched her fists, her face tight with anger—not at Percy, but at herself, as if her inability to communicate was some cruel joke being played on her. Without warning, she stomped away, her footsteps kicking up the sand as she disappeared into the trees at the edge of the island, leaving Percy alone by the shore.

He blinked, stunned by the sudden outburst. For a moment, he thought maybe he had said something wrong, that he had somehow scared her off. “Wait… I didn’t mean to…” he started, but his words trailed off into the empty air. She was already gone.

Percy sighed and fell back onto the soft ground, staring up at the sky. The waves lapped gently against the shore, but the peaceful atmosphere felt heavier now, tinged with confusion and guilt. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but something about their interaction had set her off.

As he lay there, trying to piece together what had just happened, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeper going on with the mysterious girl. Something more than just the inability to speak.

Frustrated and alone, Percy sat up, glancing at the simple rainbow bracelet on his wrist—the one Drew had given him before all of this madness started. It had been a small comfort and now, he hoped it could help him figure out something, anything, about his current situation.

With a sigh, he twisted the bracelet, hoping to summon a rainbow like before. He held his breath, waiting for the familiar arc of colors to appear, to give him some kind of sign, some connection to the outside world.

But nothing happened.

Percy frowned and twisted the bracelet harder, his patience wearing thin. "Come on, work," he muttered under his breath. He twisted it again, but still, no rainbow appeared. No flash of light. No shimmer of color. Just silence, like the world was mocking him. He twisted it once more, harder this time, his frustration bubbling up. "Work!" he growled through clenched teeth.

But the bracelet remained dull, lifeless.

Percy's anger flared, and he threw the bracelet to the ground in a fit of rage. It landed with a soft thud in the sand, its vibrant colors now faded, barely noticeable. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, his heart pounding as he ran a hand through his hair. "Dammit," he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

The bracelet must have been damaged during the fight with Ares. Of course, nothing could stay simple in his life—not even a small piece of magic from a friend. He had relied on it, and now, it was just one more thing that had been taken from him.

Sitting there, hands gripping his head, Percy thought about everything. He was stuck on some strange island with no way of contacting anyone, and the one person who had been there just stormed off, angry and upset. He was alone again, and all the rage and grief from the battle with Ares surged back.

Percy was startled by a soft tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the girl standing behind him, holding a plate of food. She looked calmer now, the earlier frustration replaced by a gentle expression. She extended the plate toward him, her brown eyes soft but still carrying that quiet intensity.

“For me?” Percy asked, pointing at himself to make sure she understood.

The girl nodded, confirming it was for him. But before he could thank her, she pointed to her ear and gave him a thumbs-up, her way of saying, I can hear you. She couldn’t speak, but she could hear him perfectly.

She then sat down beside him on the sand, her white sleeveless dress brushing against the ground. Percy noticed how she didn’t seem to care about getting it dirty, as if the peacefulness of the moment meant more than worrying about her appearance. She placed a glass of water next to him, the sunlight catching the rim and glinting softly.

Percy realized just how thirsty he was. Without thinking, he grabbed the glass and took a sip, the cool water soothing his parched throat. “Thanks,” he said, his voice softer this time, more genuine.

The girl nodded again and gave him a warm smile. It wasn’t a full smile, more like a quiet acknowledgment, but it held a kindness that put Percy at ease. There was still so much he didn’t understand—about her, about the island—but in that moment, it didn’t seem to matter as much.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of the waves gently rolling in as Percy ate. The girl watched the horizon, her hands resting lightly in her lap, her earlier frustration seemingly forgotten. Percy glanced at her, wondering about the mystery surrounding her inability to speak. There was more to this girl than he could yet figure out, but for now, the quiet moment felt like a small refuge in the midst of all the chaos.

As Percy continued eating, he noticed the girl’s gaze shift. Her eyes fell on the broken bracelet lying in the sand a few feet away, the one he had thrown down in frustration. A pang of guilt shot through him—this was her beach, and now he had littered it with his broken, useless bracelet.

"Uh, sorry about that," Percy mumbled, putting down his plate and reaching for the bracelet before she could.

But just as his hand touched the sand, hers brushed against his. He froze for a moment, feeling the warmth of her fingers against his skin. The contact was brief, but enough to make him pull back awkwardly. Before he could apologize again, the girl was already a step ahead of him. She grabbed the bracelet, holding it up between her fingers, examining it with a curious tilt of her head.

Percy opened his mouth to explain, but she raised a single finger, signaling for him to wait. She didn’t seem angry or upset, just focused. Then, without a word, she stood up and, once again, disappeared in the same quiet, graceful way as before.

Percy stared at the spot where she had been, bewildered. “She really does that a lot,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He didn’t know what she planned to do with the broken bracelet, but something told him she wasn’t just going to leave him hanging.

Percy laying on his back, stared up at the dark sky. The stars twinkled brightly above him, scattered across the night in a way he had rarely seen. In New York, the lights of the city always dulled the stars, but here, they were sharp and clear, each one standing out like a small beacon in the endless black canvas.

He didn’t know the names of any constellations, but that didn’t matter. There was a quiet peace in simply watching them, letting his mind drift. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. Maybe this strange island wasn’t so bad after all.

As he started to close his eyes, ready to drift off into sleep, he heard the soft sound of shuffling beside him. Turning his head, he saw the girl had joined him. She lay next to him on the sand, her eyes turned upward, just as captivated by the stars as he was.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Percy said quietly.

She nodded her head, her face soft in the starlight. For a moment, they both lay there in silence, sharing the tranquility of the night sky. Then, Percy felt a gentle tug on his wrist. He looked down to see her holding his hand, carefully sliding his bracelet back onto his wrist. He blinked in surprise. "You fixed it?" he asked, staring at the once-broken bracelet in disbelief.

The girl didn’t respond with words, but she blinked her almond-shaped eyes, her expression calm, as if to say, Of course. She handed him a single drachma, the shiny coin catching the starlight. Percy held it up, his gratitude evident in his voice. "Thanks… again." He couldn’t help but smile. He was probably going to have to get used to thanking her a lot.

His eyes flicked down to the coin in his hand, and an idea popped into his head. “You wouldn’t happen to have more than one drachma, would you?” he asked.

The girl shook her head sadly, as if knowing that Percy would have to make a decision to choose who to call.

He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, who he would call but for now, under the blanket of stars, it was enough just to rest.

Percy woke up to a soft, strange sound, something unfamiliar yet soothing. As he blinked away the grogginess, he realized his head was resting on a pillow—something he hadn’t fallen asleep with. The girl must have placed it under his head while he slept. The thought made him smile. She had been so kind to him, silently helping him in ways he hadn’t asked for but appreciated more than she knew.

Sitting up, Percy stretched, feeling surprisingly well-rested. For the first time in a long while, there had been no dreams, no visions, no nightmarish glimpses of battles or gods. Just quiet, peaceful sleep. He stood, determined to find a way to repay her for all she had done. It wasn’t in his nature to leave a debt unpaid, and this girl, though she couldn’t speak, had given him more comfort and aid than anyone else could have in his current situation.

The sound he had woken up to still lingered in the air, a faint, almost rhythmic noise. Curious, Percy followed the noise into the cave where she had disappeared the night before.

As he stepped inside, he saw her standing in front of a mirror. Her back was to him, and she hadn’t noticed his presence yet. She was facing the mirror, her lips moving as if she were trying to say something. Her mouth and tongue twisted in various ways, shaping words that never made it out of her throat. The effort was clear in her expression—intense concentration, frustration, and determination all mixed together.

Percy’s heart sank a little as he watched. She was trying so hard to speak, to say something—anything—but nothing came. It was like she was locked in a silent struggle with herself, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break free.

He didn’t want to startle her, but the sadness in the scene tugged at him. "Hey," Percy said gently, his voice soft enough to avoid scaring her.

The girl stiffened, surprised by his voice. She quickly turned around, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Percy stepped forward, offering a small smile. "It’s okay," he reassured her. "You don’t need to—"

She shook her head, cutting him off, as if to say no, I want to do this. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of hope and frustration, met his. Percy could see how much this meant to her—this simple act of speaking that so many people took for granted.

He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, giving her space to keep trying, to do what she clearly wanted so badly. Percy could only hope that one day, she would be able to make her voice heard.

As Percy turned to leave, feeling like he had intruded on a private moment, he felt a gentle tug on his arm. He looked back to see the girl holding a small notepad, which she handed to him. On the paper, in neat handwriting, it read, Would you like to eat, Percy?

Percy blinked, caught off guard. “Wait... how do you know my name?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

The girl responded with a playful wink, her brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

Percy raised his eyebrows in confusion, and she quickly flipped to a new page on the notepad. With swift, fluid strokes, she wrote down, You talk a lot when you’re asleep.

Percy’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh no...” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I must’ve been talking in third person or something, huh?”

She nodded with a small grin, clearly finding his reaction amusing. Percy could only groan, imagining himself muttering, Percy’s gonna do this, Percy’s gonna save the day, like a total idiot.

“Well, that’s... embarrassing,” he admitted with a sheepish smile, though her lighthearted expression made it hard for him to feel too bad about it. At least she didn’t seem to mind.

Percy grinned, trying to regain some composure after his embarrassing sleep-talking revelation. "Alright, I am hungry," he admitted, "but this time, I'm cooking for both of us."

The girl raised her hand to her mouth, pretending to sneeze, though Percy could tell she was hiding a grin. He narrowed his eyes playfully. "I’m serious!" he insisted.

She lowered her hand and, with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, pulled out her notepad again. She quickly scribbled something down and handed it to him. I’ll be waiting on the beach, it read.

Percy shook his head, chuckling. “You’re doubting me, huh? Just wait. I’ll surprise you.”

With that, the girl gave him a small wave and headed back toward the beach, leaving Percy to figure out exactly what he was going to cook. He wasn't entirely sure what ingredients he had to work with on this mysterious island, but he was determined to repay her kindness somehow—even if it meant putting his barely-existent cooking skills to the test.

Chapter Text

Jason watched Luke as he paced nervously, limping a little from his recent injuries. There was an anxious energy about him, the way he kept glancing around as if expecting someone—or something—to attack at any moment.

“This isn’t good,” Luke muttered, running a hand through his hair. “The gods are trying to kill us. There’s a bounty on our heads now.”

Jason’s eyes darkened. “That’s not what you should be worried about,” he snapped. “Percy might be dead.”

Luke stopped in his tracks and turned to Jason, his expression firm. “Percy isn’t dead,” he said with unsettling certainty. “Athena wouldn’t interfere with fate. You even—what, stupidly—smacked her in the face.”

Jason clenched his jaw but nodded. “She deserved it.”

“All the gods do,” Luke added bitterly.

“Not Percy,” Jason said, his voice quieter, more pained.

Luke frowned. “What do you mean, ‘not Percy’? He’s not one of them.”

“He’s ascending,” Jason said, eyes narrowing as the weight of his words hit him. “He killed the Opiotaurus. He killed Ares, dammit.”

Luke paused, letting that sink in. His lips twitched into a faint, unsettling smile. “That’s good for us. Makes my mission easier.”

Jason’s suspicion grew at Luke’s tone. “What mission?”

Luke met his gaze, eyes gleaming with conviction. “To kill all the gods, of course. Let the reign end. Life returning to how it used to be—how it should be.”

Jason's blood ran cold. He took a step closer, his eyes sharp and filled with distrust. “What do you mean by that, Luke? We’re here to end the Titans' reign.”

Luke’s smile faltered for a moment before he waved it off dismissively. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice smooth. “We’re on the same side.”

But Jason wasn’t so sure anymore. The unease inside him only grew as he looked into Luke’s eyes and saw something darker, something more dangerous than he’d realised.

“How’s the wound healing?” Luke asked, his voice casual, though his eyes flickered with a hint of concern.

“Pretty good, actually,” Jason replied, stretching his shoulder. “Not sure why, but it’s healing faster than it should.”

Luke extended a hand to help Jason up off the floor. Jason groaned as his muscles protested, but he gripped Luke’s arm and hauled himself to his feet. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been, but the exhaustion still lingered.

“Where are we heading?” Jason asked, trying to shake off the stiffness.

“The prophecy said three head to the Titans’ thrones,” Luke began, “but it’s not on Mount Tam. So where else could it be?”

Jason paused, frowning. “Greece?” he asked.

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “Greece.”

“How on earth are we supposed to get there?” Jason asked, incredulously. “We’re not exactly on friendly terms with the airlines.”

“Plane, duh,” Luke said with a smirk.

Jason felt a chill creep up the back of his neck, like someone—or something—was watching them. He shivered involuntarily and looked over at Luke, who seemed to feel it too. Luke glanced around, rubbing at his wrist where some sort of bracelet or charm was hanging.

“What is that?” Jason asked, his voice low.

“It’s nothing,” Luke said quickly, fidgeting with the bracelet. “Probably just some wind.”

Jason didn’t buy it, but he didn’t press further. “You happen to know where the nearest airport is?”

Luke nodded, pulling a set of car keys from his pocket. “Stole these while you were knocked out,” he said with a mischievous grin.

Jason raised an eyebrow but followed Luke as they made their way toward the car. “You really have a talent for this, don’t you?”

Luke just shrugged, tossing the keys into the air and catching them. “Survival, man. You do what you have to.”

But Jason couldn’t shake the lingering unease. That cold feeling hadn’t left him. Something wasn’t right, and whether Luke noticed it or not, Jason could feel that they were being watched. He just didn’t know by who—or what.

Chapter Text

Percy sat with the girl, both of them enjoying a plate of blue pancakes that he had somehow managed to make edible. She let out a soft, breathy laugh while eating, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to hide her amusement. Percy grinned and watched her for a moment, appreciating the sound of her laughter.

"How is it?" Percy asked, curious about her opinion of his cooking.

She gave him a cheerful thumbs-up and smiled, her expression lighting up with a toothy grin. Percy chuckled, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

As he finished his pancakes, he waited for the girl to finish hers, handing her a glass of water afterward. She took it gratefully, and Percy, feeling curious, asked, “You haven't told me something, your name?”

She paused for a moment before grabbing a small stick. She carefully wrote her name in the sand: CALYPSO.

"Beautiful name," Percy said, admiring the way it looked written in the sand. "I've heard it somewhere before. Kinda like reggae music. " He laughed lightly, but Calypso just looked at him, clearly confused.

“Nevermind,” Percy muttered, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

He was about to ask her another question when a sudden hologram appeared before them, causing Percy to jump. His eyes widened as Drew’s image materialized, her smile bright but tear-streaked. She seemed almost overly cheerful as she greeted him. “Hey, Percy! How are you?”

Percy’s mind raced. Drew’s usual overconfidence was still there, but something was different—something off. He could see the signs of recent tears, which made him uneasy.

Out of the corner of his eye, Percy noticed Calypso’s expression shift. She looked... jealous? No, more than that. There was a mix of jealousy and worry on her face as she glanced at Drew’s hologram, then at Percy.

Percy awkwardly shifted his weight, torn between the concern in Drew’s voice and the tension he could feel from Calypso beside him. He needed to figure out what was going on—and fast.

"I'm good," Percy says quickly, trying to sound normal. "I'm with a friend." Calypso gives a small wave, smiling politely at Drew's hologram. As if sensing that the conversation would get personal, she gently places her hand on Percy's shoulder, a silent message that she was leaving. Percy gives her a nod, appreciating her understanding, and watches as she walks back toward her cave.

Turning his attention back to Drew, he asks, “How are you, Drew? Sorry for not calling earlier—I’ve been busy.”

“It’s okay, Percy,” Drew replies, her voice light and casual, but Percy can see right through it. She’s forcing her cheerfulness. Her usual bravado feels... hollow.

Percy frowns. “Drew, you can tell me everything.”

At that, Drew starts sobbing. The walls of her pretense crumble, and she lets out everything. “I—I tried going home, Percy. To my father.”

Percy’s heart sinks as Drew continues, her voice breaking. “He hates me. He told me I ruined his life. That I was his greatest failure.”

Percy feels a surge of anger on her behalf, but he swallows it down. All he wants to do is reach through the hologram and hug her, to somehow let her know that she’s not alone. Instead, his voice softens. “Drew, you didn’t ruin anything. You’re a wonderful person, and you’re not a failure.”

Drew’s sobbing continues, her voice full of self-loathing. “That’s what you think. But all I am is a mistake—a failure.”

She lifts her arms to wipe her eyes, and that’s when Percy sees them: bandages. Red, raw, and unmistakably recent. His heart clenches in his chest. The bloody bandages are clear signs of self-harm. Percy’s eyes widen in alarm as he processes what he’s seeing.

“Drew...” he starts, his voice thick with concern, but before he can say anything more, the connection suddenly cuts off.

“Drew? Drew!” Percy shouted, his voice rising in panic. The connection was severed, leaving him staring helplessly at empty space.

"No, no, no..." Percy mutters, his frustration boiling over. He tries to twist the bracelet, willing the hologram to come back, but it’s dead—completely severed. His heart races with worry and anger. Why now, when Drew needed him the most?

Feeling utterly helpless, Percy stands up, pacing back and forth on the beach. His mind is spinning with concern for Drew. He had to find a way to help her, but how could he when they were worlds apart?

Just as Percy was about to lose himself in his spiraling thoughts, the hologram flickered back to life. Percy ran towards it but this time, it wasn’t Drew. His breath caught in his throat as he saw Jason and Luke, both wielding swords, bloodied and bruised as if they had fought through an army. They weren’t just fighting side by side—they were fighting each other.

Jason swung his sword, the force behind it clear even through the projection. Luke dodged and retaliated with a slash of his own. Percy’s heart raced as he watched the two of them, friends turned enemies in an instant.

"No!" Percy shouted, stepping closer to the hologram, his voice thick with panic. "Why are you fighting? Stop!"

But they couldn’t hear him. The scene continued to play out before him, brutal and merciless. Blood dripped from both of them, staining the ground beneath their feet. Percy’s mind raced, desperate to understand what could have driven them to this.

"Who is showing me this?" he yelled, his voice rising with each word. "Make them stop! No!"

But no answer came. The hologram flickered, then evaporated into thin air. Percy swung his fist wildly into the empty space where the mist once was, but it was no use. His knuckles brushed through the air, finding nothing to connect with.

Anger and frustration surged within him, a mixture of helplessness and fury. He clenched his fists at his sides, his mind a blur. Jason and Luke were tearing each other apart, and there was nothing he could do to stop it—not from here, not like this. He needed answers, and more than that, he needed to find them before it was too late. Most importantly Drew needed him.

Percy couldn’t wait it out. His heart pounded as he dove into the ocean, his strokes frantic and driven by sheer desperation. The water, usually a comforting presence to him, felt suffocating as he pushed harder and harder, trying to escape. He had to get out. He had to save them. Luke, Jason, Drew—they were all in danger, and he was stuck on this island, helpless.

As he swam deeper, determined to break free, he slammed into something solid. An invisible barrier, cold and immovable, stopped him dead in his tracks. Confused, he floated there for a moment, then reached out, pressing his hands against the barrier. It didn’t give. His heart raced even faster as panic set in. He pushed harder, but it held firm.

“No,” Percy muttered under his breath, before hitting the barrier again, harder this time. “No!”

He swam to the side, hoping to find a way around it, but it stretched out in all directions, sealing him in. His frustration grew, and he struck the barrier with his fists, again and again. Each hit sent a jolt of pain up his arms, but he didn’t care. He needed to get past it. He had to.

With every failed attempt, his breaths grew ragged, his chest tightening as desperation took hold. He dove deeper, thinking maybe he could escape by going under it, but it was everywhere—surrounding him, mocking his efforts.

Percy screamed into the water, his voice swallowed by the waves. He punched the barrier until his knuckles were raw, but it didn’t budge. Exhausted, he floated there for who knows how long, the ocean’s current gently pulling him back toward the shore he couldn’t escape.

Defeated, he finally gave in, letting the waves carry him back to the surface. As he broke through the water and gasped for air, the cool night air stung his skin. He had wasted an entire day. Who knows what could have happened in that time? The stars twinkled above, uncaring of his plight, as if the universe itself was indifferent to his struggle.

He dragged himself onto the beach, collapsing onto the sand. He felt utterly powerless, trapped on an island while his friends were out there, facing gods, monsters, and dangers he could only imagine.

As he lay there, the tears welled up in his eyes again. Percy’s chest heaved as he stood at the edge of the shore, staring out at the vast ocean, now feeling more like a prison than an escape. He had tried everything—every ounce of strength, every bit of will—but the invisible boundary held firm, keeping him trapped on the island. His muscles screamed in protest, his skin burned from the salt, but none of it hurt more than the knowledge that he couldn’t help the people who needed him.

His eyes stung, blurring his vision as tears mixed with the sea spray on his face. He was trapped, utterly powerless, when everything was falling apart. Drew was in danger, Jason and Luke were tearing each other apart, and he was stuck—stuck on this island with no way out.

As Percy dragged himself away from the shore, each step heavy with defeat, he saw her—Calypso. She was waiting for him, standing quietly on the sand. The sadness in her eyes was unmistakable, and it cut through Percy’s heart. She didn’t say a word, but he could see it in her gaze—she thought he was trying to leave her, to escape her.

Percy’s throat tightened, guilt and frustration twisting inside him. His feet stumbled forward, and before he could say anything, Calypso stepped toward him, her arms opening in a gentle embrace. Percy collapsed into her, his exhaustion and sorrow finally breaking through.

“They need me,” Percy choked out, his voice cracking as he buried his face into her shoulder. "I’m not there. They need me, and I’m not there."

Calypso held him tightly, one hand smoothing through his hair as Percy sobbed into her. She didn’t speak—she couldn’t—but she didn’t need to. Her touch, her presence, was enough. She was telling him that she understood, even if she couldn’t fix it. The weight of his emotions poured out of him—frustration, helplessness, fear. Percy clung to her, his sobs shaking his entire body, the full weight of his failure pressing down on him.

For a long moment, they stood there like that, the sound of the waves crashing softly against the shore. Percy’s chest slowly began to ease, the tears subsiding, though the pain remained. He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Calypso’s eyes. Her face was a mixture of empathy and sorrow, as if she understood his pain, his desperation to help like she was feeling the same thing.

“I need to save them,” Percy whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. “I can’t just... stay here.”

Calypso’s arms tightened around him.

Chapter Text

Jason and Luke walked down the deserted road, their footsteps echoing faintly in the silence. Ahead of them stood an abandoned gas station, its worn signs creaking in the faint breeze. Luke slowed down and nudged Jason, subtly pointing toward two bikers loitering by their motorcycles under the station's flickering lights.

Jason took a quick glance and shrugged. “They won’t bother us,” he muttered, trying to sound confident. But no sooner had the words left his mouth than the bikers exchanged glances, standing up and moving toward them.

Luke gave Jason a deadpan look, shaking his head slightly. “Really? You had to say it?” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with dry sarcasm.

Jason ignored the jab and took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the strange chill in the air. But it wasn’t just him feeling it—Luke visibly shivered, rubbing his arms as if trying to ward off a cold that seemed to settle straight into their bones.

“Okay, fine. Something’s off,” Jason admitted, his voice low. Jason raised his eyebrows, hoping his optimism might still hold, but as the bikers drew closer, their intentions became obvious. Their steps were deliberate, their posture tense, and their eyes were devoid of any warmth or friendliness.

Luke tightened his grip on the handle of his weapon, his expression hardening as he exchanged a knowing look with Jason. “Whatever’s going on, it’s not good. You ready?”

Jason nodded, heart pounding.

Jason stepped in front of Luke, his hands raised in a gesture of peace, though tension ran through his every muscle. “Look, we don’t want any trouble,” he said, trying to keep his tone even and unthreatening. But the cold breeze that had haunted him earlier was back, biting through the night air and sending a chill down his spine.

Luke leaned closer and whispered, “They’re mortal. We can’t waste precious time on them.”

Jason took another look at the bikers, hoping to see a spark of humanity or recognition. But their eyes stayed locked on him and Luke, unblinking, glassy… and gold.

“Gold eyes?” Jason murmured, confused.

Luke’s words caught in his throat as the realization dawned on him, but before he could voice it, a heavy fist connected with his chest. Jason felt a force slam into him, sending him flying backward several meters, his back hitting the ground hard.

Dazed, Jason struggled to sit up, and a sharp pain radiated through his shoulder. He glanced over at Luke, who was sprawled out nearby, wincing as he pushed himself upright. The two bikers, no longer even attempting to hide their unnatural presence, strode toward them with eerie precision.

These weren’t ordinary mortals.

Luke and Jason scrambled to their feet, their swords drawn, adrenaline pumping. Jason’s gaze remained locked on the bikers with a mixture of shock and revulsion. “What are they?” he hissed.

Luke shook his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “I don’t know. I thought Kronos might be involved… they’ve got the same golden eyes.”

Suddenly, a deep, mechanical laughter filled the air, though neither biker moved their mouth. The sound was hollow, as if coming from a broken machine.

Luke took a step forward, bracing himself. “What are you?” he demanded.

“We are… Eidolons,” they replied in unison, voices chillingly distorted. There was no further explanation, no taunt or threat, just silence before they rushed forward in a blur.

Jason reacted instinctively, raising his foot and delivering a swift kick to one of them, sending it stumbling back. But the creature’s head snapped forward, and in a flash, it clamped its teeth down onto his arm. Jason shouted in pain, trying to shake it off.

Beside him, Luke drove his sword through the other biker’s chest. It should have been a fatal blow, yet the biker remained standing, blood seeping through his shirt as though it were just another inconvenience. Luke’s face twisted in frustration as he met Jason’s gaze.

“They’re still human bodies!” Jason snapped, pulling free of the biker’s grip, his arm bleeding from the bite.

Luke glared, the tension in his voice unmistakable. “We don’t have a choice, Jason. Either they die, or we do.”

The Eidolons pressed forward again, undeterred by their injuries, their golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.

The Eidolons, even confined to human bodies, were relentless. Their strength defied their mortal forms; every punch landed like a sledgehammer, every movement unnaturally swift. Jason found himself face-to-face with the biker he’d wounded earlier—the one with a gaping hole in his chest that should have stopped any ordinary person. But the Eidolon only grinned, its twisted smile mocking as it lunged again. Jason dodged, landing a punch and then slamming the blunt side of his sword into the biker, sending him crashing back beside his motorcycle.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Luke struggling, fresh cuts on his arms as he fought off the second possessed biker, who somehow wielded a sword of his own. Jason turned to help, momentarily taking his attention off his attacker. He lunged toward Luke’s opponent, kicking his legs out from under him as Luke seized the moment to knee the biker in the face, the sickening crack of bone signaling a broken nose.

Jason turned back to his first attacker, but something was wrong. The figure lying on the ground was no longer snarling, no longer fighting—just a bleeding man, his eyes now a soft, innocent brown, empty and lifeless. Jason’s stomach twisted as he knelt by the man, staring at the human shell left behind, the wrongness of it all gnawing at him. He’d seen death before, but this felt like something else—a desecration. The Eidolons weren’t just controlling people—they were snuffing them out, discarding their lives like broken tools.

"Jason, watch out!" Luke's voice cut through his shock, but it was too late. Jason turned just in time to see the riderless motorcycle hurtling toward him, possessed by the very Eidolon that had left the man’s body lifeless. The bike smashed into Jason, knocking the air out of him as he hit the ground, realizing with a chill that the Eidolon had somehow transferred itself into the machine.

Pain flared up his side, but he grit his teeth, pushing through the agony.

“It’s… possessed the bike?” Jason managed to gasp out, incredulity mixing with anger.

Luke’s face was set, jaw clenched as he assessed the situation. “They’re playing with us. Trying to wear us down.”

Jason dragged himself back to his feet, keeping his eyes locked on the motorcycle as it spun around to make another charge.

“We need to end this,” Jason muttered.

Luke nodded, eyes narrowing with determination. “Together?”

“Together.”

As the bike revved up for another pass, the two demigods charged. Jason sidestepped the bike at the last second, bringing his sword down on its front wheel, causing it to veer wildly off course. Luke seized the moment, leaping onto the bike.

The motorcycle gave a shudder, the headlights flickering as if something within it had lost its grip. It rolled to a stop, the eerie energy dissipating.

Breathing hard, Jason and Luke shared a tense look.

"Wait, wasn't there two.."

Jason’s heart dropped as he caught sight of Luke’s eyes—no longer the usual stormy blue, but glowing gold, cold and unfeeling. It was like staring at a stranger wearing his friend’s face. Luke took a step forward, sword drawn, and his expression twisted into something Jason had never seen before: a predatory, ruthless smirk.

“Luke?” Jason said cautiously, gripping his own sword tighter. “Are you... in there?”

The only response was a mocking chuckle, hollow and robotic. “Oh, he’s in here somewhere,” the Eidolon replied, voice dripping with malice. “But he’s not in control anymore.”

Before Jason could fully brace himself, Luke lunged, swinging his sword with deadly precision. Jason barely blocked in time, the clash of metal echoing through the deserted gas station. Each strike was relentless, more powerful than the last, forcing Jason to give ground.

"Luke, fight it!" Jason shouted, desperation creeping into his voice as he parried another blow. "I know you're still in there!"

The Eidolon laughed through Luke’s mouth, eyes blazing as it twisted Luke’s movements into vicious, brutal attacks. They moved across the concrete in a deadly dance, sparks flying as their swords clashed again and again. Each slash, each parry, each dodge grew fiercer, leaving trails of scuffed asphalt and a haze of dust around them. Cuts and bruises began to mar Jason’s arms and face, but he ignored the pain, focusing all his energy on breaking through to Luke.

Suddenly, the Eidolon made Luke’s face contort in a wicked grin, taunting him. “Why do you care so much about him? He was always planning to betray you.”

Jason gritted his teeth, the words stinging even though he knew they were meant to distract him. With a surge of adrenaline, he swung his sword hard, managing to knock Luke back a few steps. “Nice try,” Jason said, panting. “But I’m not giving up on him.”

The brief hesitation in Luke’s stance gave Jason a sliver of hope. He could see the flicker of doubt in his friend’s movements, as though somewhere beneath the Eidolon’s control, Luke was struggling to break free.

“Luke!” Jason yelled, throwing his sword into another desperate block as the possessed Luke advanced again. “Come on, you’re stronger than this thing! Remember who you are!”

For a moment, Luke’s hand shook, the sword lowering just slightly, and his eyes flashed from gold back to blue. Jason seized the moment, stepping forward, sword pointed but hesitant. “I know you’re still in there. Fight it, Luke. Fight for us.”

Before Jason could react, a voice—cold and mechanical, not his friend’s—spoke through Luke’s lips: "You think you can stop us? There is no ‘us’ anymore. There is only me."

Jason's stomach twisted with regret, but he had no choice. He raised his sword to defend himself as Luke advanced. They were trapped in a battle of wills, not just swords. Jason’s eyes darted to the skies. The storm clouds that had been gathering overhead seemed to pulse with dark energy, and Jason’s fingers tingled as lightning began to build.

With a scream of rage, Jason thrust his hand upward, and the air exploded in a crackling flash of electricity. The lightning arced down, striking Luke directly. Jason could see his friend’s body convulsing with the electricity, but it wasn’t enough. Luke, possessed, grinned as the energy coursed through him.

In an instant, the possessed Luke countered. He feigned a stumble, and Jason’s eyes went wide with realization too late. Luke’s sword was already in motion, a deadly feint followed by a quick, precise strike. The sword sliced through Jason’s side, and pain exploded in his abdomen. He gasped, blood seeping through his clothes, but he didn’t fall.

"Just die already," the Eidolon sneered, Luke’s voice twisted and cruel, as the sword was drawn back for another strike.

Jason’s hand tightened around his own sword, blood dripping from his side. The pain was sharp, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t let Luke—his friend—lose to this thing. Not like this.

The world swirled with the sound of battle—metal clashing, screams of frustration, the buzz of supernatural power. Jason fought with everything he had, swinging his sword at Luke again, but the possessive force inside Luke was more powerful than it had ever been.

The Eidolon inside Luke hissed, a dark laugh escaping its mouth as the sword came back down for another strike. Jason blocked but could feel his strength waning. His vision blurred from the pain in his side, but he kept fighting, determined to keep moving, to keep his friend alive.

Jason gritted his teeth as he swung his sword at Luke, pushing past the pain. He wasn’t going to lose. Not like this. Not when there was still hope. He wouldn’t give up on Luke, no matter how hard the battle was. He refused.

As Luke—no, the Eidolon inside him—advanced again, Jason's mind raced. He couldn’t keep fighting like this. He needed to outsmart the creature that had taken control of his friend.

He saw it: the opening. The Eidolon was playing a dangerous game, but Jason had an idea. His heart beat faster as he spoke through gritted teeth, hoping his plan would work.

“If you want to play with power,” Jason said, his voice dripping with defiance, “then let’s really play.”

The Eidolon paused, cocking its head, a twisted grin forming on Luke’s face. “What are you talking about?” it asked, its voice cold and mechanical.

“Make me your puppet,” Jason growled. “Come into my mind.”

The Eidolon’s eyes narrowed as it studied him, the gold flashing dangerously. Jason held his breath, praying that the creature would fall for his ruse.

“You think you can deceive me, mortal?” the Eidolon scoffed, but the curiosity in its voice was clear. “Very well. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

Jason felt the presence move—felt the Eidolon leave Luke’s body, moving into his mind, eager to control him. As soon as it entered his consciousness, Jason slammed the door behind it, locking the Eidolon into his mental space. His body slumped momentarily in relief, and he could hear Luke’s faint breath in the background, weakened by blood loss. He didn’t have much time.

Jason’s mind shifted. He drew deep into himself, focusing on his deepest, darkest memories. The Eidolon tried to manipulate his thoughts, tried to flood him with its dark powers, but Jason was prepared. He had learned to survive in the chaos of his mind before. This time, he used his experiences—his pain, his fears, his trauma—as weapons.

The mental landscape morphed, shifting into a battle arena. His mind became a place of danger, a chaotic, twisting battleground. Jason could feel the Eidolon’s presence, angry and relentless, trying to overpower him, trying to call down lightning and break his control. But Jason was faster. He threw his memories at it like daggers.

The Eidolon felt the memories, each one a sharp cut into its consciousness—moments of guilt, of loss, of pain. His mother abandoning him. The cold emptiness of betrayal. His failure to protect his friends. He thrust each memory forward, letting them flood the Eidolon’s mind like a tidal wave.

The creature roared inside his mind, struggling, lashing out with power, but Jason's control was stronger. The Eidolon wasn’t prepared for this kind of fight. It was used to controlling minds, bending them to its will, but Jason was not like the mortals it had possessed before.

Jason pushed harder, deeper into the darkness of his memories, forcing the Eidolon to face the very things it sought to exploit. He flooded it with his greatest insecurities, his deepest fears, and the Eidolon began to lose control.

“No!” the Eidolon screamed, its voice cracking under the pressure. “You cannot defeat me! I am—”

But the words trailed off. The Eidolon faltered. The power it tried to wield against Jason was faltering, consumed by the very memories that the Eidolon had sought to use against him.

Jason focused one final push. He dug into the core of his pain—the loss of everything he loved, the mistakes he couldn’t undo. He turned it into a weapon, and with a scream of agony, the Eidolon collapsed, shattering under the weight of Jason's mind.

The power evaporated. The golden eyes dimmed, leaving only a lifeless shell behind. Luke’s body slumped, and Jason’s knees buckled, the mental exhaustion overwhelming him. He collapsed beside Luke, gasping for air.

The battle was over. The Eidolons were gone, and Jason had won—barely. But as he looked at Luke, who had fainted from blood loss, Jason knew the fight wasn’t truly over. There was still so much to fix.

Jason breathed heavily, still reeling from the mental battle he had just fought. He had beaten the Eidolon, but at what cost? He looked down at Luke, his friend’s face pale and bruised, and Jason’s heart twisted in guilt.

But there was no time for regret. Not yet. He had to save Luke first. He had to stop the damage before it was too late.

He grabbed a few square pieces of ambrosia from his pocket and fed it to Luke. Luckily, Luke's face was already returning to a natural colour.