Chapter Text
THE LIGHTNING THIEF
CHAPTER ONE - A PLOT OF IMPERTINENCE
Percy Jackson.
An enigma, for lack of a better word. A boy who was stupid, dumb, and much too smart.
He was just twelve, and yet he had an uncanny knack for stumbling into trouble. A sixth sense for danger, some might say.
And now he had been tasked with returning the stolen Master Bolt back to Olympus.
It was a suicide mission, really. Already, they had fought against Medusa, the Chimera, Procrustes (who had some amazing beds on sale, by the way).
Of course, how could he forget? The extremely benevolent and kind immortal beings trying to kill him (read: Hades, Ares, and potentially Zeus). Hades would have turned him into a demigod pancake had it not been for the magical pearls that saved his skin at the last second. Ares, on the other hand, was less subtle about his attempts - showing up on a California beach with a wicked smile and a sword big enough to split a car in half. And let’s not forget Zeus, king of the extremely forgiving gods, who would gladly blast him out of existence if he thought Percy was lying about the stolen bolt.
Percy wasn’t sure who was worse: the monsters who wanted to eat him or the gods who wanted to obliterate him. But he was starting to learn something important about the gods - mercy wasn't exactly their style. They all had grudges, egos, and power to throw around, and Percy was just a mortal kid in their world, caught in the crossfire.
But before his fight with Ares, deep in the Underworld, the questers reached Hades' lair, a cavernous chamber filled with shadows and an ominous silence. The god of the Underworld lounged upon a throne made of bones, a dark crown atop his head. He looked at them with piercing eyes, and a smirk played on his lips.
"Ah, the little hero has finally come," Hades said, his voice dripping with… something. "And you bring friends. How charming.”
Percy swallowed hard, forcing himself to stand tall despite the dread pooling in his stomach. "We’re here for the Master Bolt.”
Hades leaned forward, amused. "And why should I give it to you? If I even have it, that is. You’ve trespassed in my domain, disrupted the balance of the Underworld, and now you want a favor?”
Annabeth stepped forward. "We’re here to prevent a war among the gods. You can’t want that chaos either.”
Hades’ laughter echoed through the chamber, chilling Percy to the bone. "Chaos? Oh, I thrive on chaos, my dear. It’s what makes this world interesting. But you’re right. Sadly, you won’t know how.”
Annabeth frowned. “What?”
Hades waved her hand, and she and Grover disappeared.
“What?” Percy said. “Bring them back!”
“Oh, they’re safe. Safely back in their little camp. But I want to talk with…” the god leaned forward, “you.”
Percy tried to grasp the enormity of the situation. Hades had just whisked away Annabeth and Grover without a second thought, leaving him standing alone in the oppressive darkness of the Underworld.
“What do you want from me?” he managed to stammer, feeling very much like a lost child in a haunted house.
“You, my dear boy, are a pawn in a game much larger than you can comprehend,” Hades replied, his voice smooth like oil. “But you do have something I want.”
Percy’s mind raced. “You want the Master Bolt.”
“No,” Hades said, a wicked smile creeping across his face. “I want… you.”
What?
“Excuse me?” Percy’s heart raced, the gravity of Hades' words sinking in like a lead weight. “You want… me?” His voice was barely a whisper, caught in the chilling air of the cavern.
“Yes,” Hades replied, his smile widening as if savoring the moment. “You’re more than just a demigod, Percy. You’re a connection to the surface world - a world I can’t easily reach. You are a bridge. With you, I can influence events above. A mere child in the realm of gods, yet your destiny is tangled with ours.”
The shadows around them seemed to pulse, drawing closer as if eager to engulf him. Percy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to return what’s stolen.”
Hades leaned back, fingers steepled, a dark silhouette against the dim glow of the chamber. “Ah, but every hero’s journey is steeped in more than just noble intentions. You think the gods care about justice or peace? No, Percy. They care about power, and the balance of that power is shifting. If I cannot claim my throne in Olympus, I’ll settle for a more... personal ally.”
Percy’s stomach churned.. He fought to keep his voice steady. “You think I’d side with you?”
Hades chuckled, a sound that echoed like distant thunder. “And yet, here you stand, unharmed. You’ve navigated through my realm and lived to tell the tale. What do you think it says about your potential? You could be more than just a pawn, Percy. You could be my weapon.”
A shiver ran down his spine. The idea of aligning with Hades felt like stepping into a trap. Percy mustered all the defiance he could. “I’m not interested in your games. I’m here to return the Master Bolt, and that’s it.”
“Ah, the fiery spirit,” Hades remarked, his tone shifting to mockery. “It won’t last. You’ll see, Percy. When the time comes, you’ll have to choose - loyalty to your friends or the power that could grant you dominion over both the living - and the dead.”
Percy was, surprisingly, considering it. He took a deep breath. "If I agree," he said carefully, "if I become your... champion, how does this end?”
Hades’ grin widened, satisfied. “With you wielding power like you’ve never imagined, Percy Jackson. You will become a force to be reckoned with, respected by gods and mortals alike. You’ll stand in my favor and, with time, you could rule the shadows. Together, we could shape Olympus’ fate.”
The shadows pulsed again, the room thrumming with a dark energy that called to Percy, echoing the rage and fear he’d held back for so long. The gods had thrown him into this quest, treated him like a disposable pawn, and for what? This power would mean he wouldn’t have to run, wouldn’t have to rely on luck to scrape by. He could shape his destiny.
He could be, and that was enough.
Swallowing, Percy gave a curt nod. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll become your champion. But I have conditions.”
Hades arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “Speak, demigod.”
Percy clenched his fists. “First, my friends remain safe. You keep Annabeth and Grover out of harm’s way, no matter what.”
The Lord of the Underworld nodded.
“And you can’t try and make me do something I don’t want to do.” Hades raised an eyebrow at this, but didn’t object. “And finally, I want to know-” Percy’s voice cracked. “I want to know if my mom can be brought back.”
“I cannot bring her back from the dead, young one. You know this."
Percy was expecting it, but it still stung. He had hoped, deep down, that there might be a chance, some hidden path to bring his mother back. Hearing Hades confirm what he already knew made it all too real.
He clenched his fists, swallowing back the sting of disappointment. “Fine,” he whispered. “Then I have nothing left to lose.”
Hades observed him with a dark, almost paternal look of satisfaction. “So be it, Percy Jackson. You will become my champion. You’ll have power beyond what any mortal could dream of. And, as promised, your friends will remain untouched by me and my realm.”
“You have to agree to my terms.”
“Agreed, young hero. But be warned - this path will demand sacrifices. Mercy is a weakness you may not be able to afford.”
Percy didn’t look back. He took a step forward, feeling the shadows wrap around him, binding him to a new fate. The road ahead was darker, more treacherous, but he was ready. For better or worse, Percy Jackson was no longer just a pawn.
He was Hades’ champion.
Immediately, Percy was in a room, with one, two, three doors.
Hades stood beside him, no longer giant. “You know, I have always wondered how divine you demigods really are. You claim divinity, half of it, yet you are all pitifully weak. I intend to change that.”
Percy took in the three doors before him. The shadows of the Underworld seemed to cling to him more tightly now, heavier, almost like an armor.
Hades, now beside him in a more human-sized form, gave him a smug, appraising look. “You demigods think yourselves so noble, so valiant. But in the end, when confronted with real power, you’re all too... mortal.”
Percy held his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Maybe we are, but we don’t need to hide behind a thousand rules and threats. We know what’s worth fighting for.”
Hades smirked. “Such bravado. But let’s see if you’re truly ready for the weight of the Underworld.” He gestured to the doors. “Beyond each door is power. One, the dominion over the undead. Another, the riches of the earth. And finally, the power of shadows. Choose wisely, champion, for you must choose one to claim as your own.”
Percy gaped. His mind raced as he looked at the three doors, each one hinting at a different power beyond anything he had ever imagined. Control over the undead, the earth, shadows. Hades watched him, an almost gleeful curiosity in his dark eyes, as if he relished watching Percy struggle with the choice.
“What’s the catch?” Percy asked
Hades chuckled softly. “Sharp, aren’t we? Each power comes with its price. And the catch is the same for each and every one. You must embrace your past lives.”
Caught off guard, Percy blinked. “What?”
“Simply put, dead souls have the ability to be reborn, so to speak, up to three times. If they lead virtuous lives all three times, they may ascend, or rather descend, to the Isles of the Blessed. This is your third life.”
Percy’s brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what Hades was telling him. “So... you’re saying that I’ve lived before? And that to claim any of these powers, I’d have to remember those lives?”
Hades inclined his head, his dark eyes never leaving Percy’s. “Indeed. Each of these powers is tethered to the experiences and skills of your past lives. To wield them fully, you must embrace every part of who you were, as well as who you are. The strength you gain will come with the memories, the knowledge, and, perhaps, the burdens of your former selves.”
Percy’s heart pounded as he looked back at the doors. The idea of past lives was both thrilling and terrifying. What had he done before this life? Who had he been, and what might he be forced to remember?
“Tell me about them,” Percy said, his voice quiet but firm. “Tell me about my past lives.”
Hades smiled, almost gently, as if he’d been waiting for Percy to ask. “In one life, you were a warrior, a fierce defender of your city, commanding soldiers, and the strongest Greek force - the Myrmidons. You were known as Achilles.”“I was Achilles?”
“Yes,” Hades replied, his voice rich. “You carried the mantle of one of the greatest warriors of all time, blessed by the gods and feared by mortals. But with that power came great sorrow - a prophecy of loss that hung over you.”
He felt an odd sense of familiarity, as if the essence of that warrior had always been a part of him, lying dormant, waiting for this moment to awaken.
“What happened to him? To me?” Percy asked, grappling with the sudden surge of emotions and memories that felt both foreign and familiar.
“You were betrayed by fate,” Hades explained, his expression shifting to one of reluctant empathy. “Your rage led you to abandon your comrades, and in your absence, the Trojans advanced. In the end, you chose glory over life, and the price was steep. You died young, your story immortalized yet marked by the grief you left behind.”
Hades didn’t wait for him to process this. “And your second life, you were a poet, a madman. A mere mortal, not a drop of ichor within you, but you were smart. Clever. Much too intelligent for someone so crazy.”
Percy’s head spun at the revelation. “A poet? A madman? You can’t be serious.”
“Completely serious. Now choose. The door of undead, the door of earth, or the door of shadows.”
Percy’s hands clenched. Each option was tempting, yes, but every choice was a trap in its own right. If he was truly Hades’ champion, he would have to be more than powerful - he’d have to be clever.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked finally. “Why give me a choice?”
“Because,” Hades said, his tone suddenly serious, “you’ve agreed to become my champion. And a champion is useless without strength.” He gestured to the doors again. “Choose, Percy Jackson. It’s time you learned what it means to wield true power.”
Percy swallowed, his heart hammering as he faced the doors. Taking a deep breath, Percy reached for the third door, the one that promised the power of shadows. It felt right somehow.
“I choose the shadows,” he said, his voice strong, his gaze meeting Hades’ without fear.
“Considering what you did in your second life, I’m not surprised,” Hades smiled, his approval dark and fierce. “Very well, my champion. Step through and claim your gift.”
With a final breath, Percy pushed open the door.
As Percy stepped through the door, a wave of darkness enveloped him, wrapping around him like a second skin. The shadows seemed alive, coiling and twisting, seeping into his very bones. He felt a cold power spread through him, filling his veins like liquid night, sharpening his senses and heightening his awareness of every shadow, every flicker of darkness in the room.
Then, everything went silent. Percy stood alone in a vast, endless darkness, his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. In front of him, a figure emerged from the shadows, much like himself, cloaked in darkness. His shadow-self spoke, its voice low and menacing, an echo of his own thoughts.
“You’re… me!” It said gleefully. “Oh, what fun! My next life, I suppose. How’ve you been?”
Percy narrowed his eyes at the shadowy figure. “What do you mean, your next life? I’m not here to have a conversation with a shadow.”
The shadow-him… pouted? “Oh, come on! You’re mad enough as it is.”
“I’m not mad, you are!”
“And you’re me. Your point?” Percy had to concede that his former self knew how to turn banter in his favour.
The conversation was confusing. Utterly confusing.
Percy rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of the bizarre exchange. “Look, I didn’t come here to chat. I’m trying to claim this weird power and figure out what it means to be Hades’ champion.”
“Oh, but you must understand,” the shadow grinned, leaning in closer, its features shrouded in darkness. “I’m an essential part of you now. I embody all the doubts, fears, and suppressed parts of your soul. You can’t wield shadows without becoming me. Oh wait, you already are me. Semantics, I suppose.”
Percy crossed his arms. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Is that so?” The shadow raised an eyebrow, its voice dripping with mockery. “Then let’s play a little game. Oh ho, I have always wanted to say that. I will show you the depths of your own darkness, and you’ll have to confront the moments that define you.”
Before Percy could protest, the void around them twisted and morphed, shifting into a scene that felt painfully familiar. He stood on hill, watching a shadowy figure - his mother - reach out to him as the Minotaur squeezed the life from her.
“Percy…” she called, her face distorted and blurry. “Help me!”
“No!” he shouted, feeling panic surge through him. “This isn’t real!”
“Oh, but it is,” Not-Percy replied, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “This is your greatest fear, isn’t it? Losing her, again.”
Percy felt the weight of his memories pressing down on him. He had fought countless monsters, faced gods, but the loss of his mother had always haunted him like a specter. “You don’t get to use my fears against me!”
“Then prove it!” the shadow challenged, eyes glinting with malicious glee. “Face the truth. You feel powerless against this loss. You let it define you!”
“I am stronger than you!” Percy shouted.
“You are me!” The other him shouted back. It extended a hand. “Join me! Embrace the darkness and near-infinite handsomeness of myself!” Not-Percy’s voice echoed.
“I don’t need you,” Percy retorted, gritting his teeth. “I-”
Not-Percy jumped at him, and suddenly Percy felt… powerless.
“What… are you doing?” he forced out.
“Merging our souls, of course,” the absolutely insane version of him said.
Suddenly, Percy blacked out. The last thing he heard was: “Oh, Hades has really done it now. I’m free! HEAR ME FATES, TREMBLE BEFORE ME! PERSEUS JACKSON HAS RISEN ONCE MORE!”
LINE BREAK
Percy awoke in the Throne Room of the Underworld, watching Hades pace.
He felt the need to ask the obvious. “Wh- what happened?”
Hades sighed. “You… became him.”
“Who?”
“You gained the power of the shadows, but at a price. You returned your other self to life.” Hades said, his tone almost sad. “The shadow you confronted. He’s now taken your place.”
Percy blinked, disbelief flooding through him. “Wait, what do you mean he took my place?”
Hades shrugged, a dark smile playing at the corners of his lips. “He has merged with you, but now he has assumed control. You’re no longer in charge of this body.”
“No! I can’t let that happen!” Percy shouted, panic rising. “You can’t-”
“It’s not like you have a choice. If you walk outside the Underworld, Zeus will strike you down. Or Ares. Or perhaps your father, for becoming my champion. You are, for a lack of a better word, forced to stay here. And you are mortal. Eventually, you will succumb to the shadows of the Underworld and… die. Perseus here ensures your survival. Now, for better or worse, Perseus is free to roam the world as you once did.”
“Perseus?”
“Yes, the poetic madman I was talking about earlier. Your namesake.”
“No!” Percy protested, his mind racing. “What does he want?”
“Power, chaos - much like any other shadowy being,” Hades replied with a casual shrug. “But there’s something more personal for him. He wants revenge against the gods.”
Percy struggled against an invisible weight, but it felt as though his body were no longer his own. “I won’t let him! I won’t-”
“You were a good soul,” Hades said mournfully.
Perseus took control. It was much too quick for something of such importance, much too unassuming.
“Oh, how delightful,” he mused. “I have the body of a hero, the power of a champion, and have had an eternity to plan! This is going to be FUN!”
He could sense Percy’s lingering presence, a faint echo in the back of his mind, but it only made him chuckle. “Welcome back to the realm of the living,” Perseus said with a smirk, stretching his limbs as he took full control. “Let the games begin!”
Hades leaned back in his obsidian throne, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he regarded Perseus, who now stood confidently in the center of the chamber, shadows dancing around him like loyal pets. The dark god was clearly amused, his eyes glinting with interest.
“So,” Hades began, breaking the silence, “how does it feel to be free? To wield the power you always craved but never understood?”
Perseus spread his arms, the shadows shifting and swirling in response. “It feels exhilarating. I was a mortal, not an ounce of godly blood. But now… now I am strong.”
Hades chuckled, the sound rich and dark. “Yes, but be wary, Perseus. Power can be intoxicating, but it can also be blinding. You’ve tasted freedom, but freedom comes with consequences.”
“Tasted? I am free.”
The Lord of the Underworld regarded him with a measured gaze. “Ambition is a dangerous flame. It can warm your heart or burn everything you love to ashes. I’ve seen it consume many, even those with the greatest potential. Don’t let it lead you astray.”
“Save your lectures, Hades,” Perseus said. “I’m not interested in your wisdom. I know what I want, and I will achieve it.”
Hades tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. “And what exactly is it that you want, Perseus? Power? Revenge?”
“Madness! Chaos. That is all. That is, simply put, my grand plan. Obviously not all of it, however. In my mortal life, I was not told about this world of magic. I forced my way into it, and now I shall bend it to my will.”
“And what of Percy?” Hades asked, his tone suddenly serious. “He may be a whisper now, but he’s still a part of you. You’ve taken his body, but can you truly erase his essence? He may come back to haunt you.”
Perseus waved a dismissive hand. “He’s weak. I’m not going to let him interfere with my plans. He had his chance, and he failed.”
“Did he?” Hades leaned forward, intrigued. “Or did he simply choose to hold on to his humanity? He fought hard to protect those he cared for. You’re losing that part of yourself. The shadows may offer power, but they can just as easily devour you whole.
“Enough!” Perseus shouted, the shadows around him swirling violently. “I won’t be lectured about humanity by a god of the dead! I have a plan, and I will execute it.”
“Plans are merely wishes without the means to bring them to fruition,” Hades replied calmly. “If you truly wish to topple Olympus, you will need more than just chaos. You will need allies, strategy, and most importantly, control. The shadows can be fickle. They will not serve you if you cannot master them.”
“They will.” And by the gods, this madman seemed so… confident.
Hades leaned back in his throne, a calculating look in his eyes. “Then let us make a deal. You, or rather the other you, became my champion. You have benefited greatly because of it. I will grant you access to the depths of the Underworld, to the spirits that linger and the power they can provide. Use them to strengthen your cause. But remember, Perseus, I expect loyalty in return. If you betray me, I will not hesitate to reclaim your soul.”
“Deal,” Perseus said. “You didn’t think this would happen, did it?”
“Not at all, to be honest. But I respect you for it all the same.”
Perseus turned, a smirk playing at his lips as he prepared to leave the throne room.
Hades watched him go.
As Perseus turned to leave the Throne Room, he couldn’t shake the feeling of exhilaration coursing through him. The shadows whispered sweet promises of chaos and power.
“Before you rush off to your inevitable conquest,” Hades called after him, a hint of amusement in his voice, “don’t forget your manners. This realm is filled with ghosts, and they can be rather… temperamental.”
Perseus halted mid-step, turning back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You mean to tell me that I can have a chat with the dead? How delightful! I can’t wait to hear what they have to say about their lives and deaths. Perhaps I’ll even take some notes.”
Hades raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You might find their tales to be less entertaining than you imagine. Many souls are bound by regrets and sorrows. Not everyone finds the afterlife to be a grand adventure.”
“Regrets? Sorrow?” Perseus chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sounds like a perfect fit for my new game. I’ll just gather their complaints and turn them into a tragicomedy. Perhaps I’ll call it The Wailing of the Wretched.”
Hades shook his head, a small smile breaking through his typically stoic demeanor. “You’re certainly a unique one, Perseus. Just remember, the shadows can be fickle. While it’s amusing to toy with the past, you should be cautious. Each soul you engage with has a story, and not all of them will take kindly to being puppets in your play.”
“Puppets? Oh, I don’t intend to pull strings,” Perseus said, waving his hand dismissively. “I prefer to let them dance of their own accord. I’ll simply provide the spotlight, and they can perform their little tragedies. After all, isn’t that the essence of existence? A never-ending performance?”
Hades chuckled softly, genuinely entertained. “You are quite the character. I can see why you would attract the attention of the Fates. Just be sure that your performance doesn’t draw the ire of the gods. They can be rather touchy about their reputations.”
“Touchy gods? How delightful!” Perseus exclaimed, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “I’ll be sure to give them a show they won’t soon forget! Perhaps I’ll stage an uprising at Olympus while I’m at it. We could call it The Fall of the Gods. It’ll be a smash hit!”
Hades couldn’t help but admire the spirit of the newly freed mortal. “You may yet become a legend in your own right. But remember, even legends fall.”
“Legends rise, then fall, then rise again!” Perseus retorted, his laughter echoing in the stone chamber. “It’s a cycle, Hades! And I plan to ride it all the way to the top!”
“Just keep your wits about you, Perseus,” Hades warned, though his tone remained light. “The dance of power is fraught with danger.”
“Consider me a maestro of mayhem, then,” Perseus said, flashing a confident grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a performance to prepare for.”
With that, he strode out of the throne room, the shadows swirling around him like a cloak of dark, leaving Hades to ponder the chaos that was about to unfold in the world above.
“First stop,” Perseus said, “the river Styx.”
As Perseus made his way through the Underworld, he reveled in the feeling of shadows flowing around him, embracing him like a long-lost friend. His mind buzzed with excitement, each step bringing him closer to unleashing chaos upon the world above.
“The river Styx,” he murmured to himself, a grin spreading across his face. “What a fitting place to begin my grand performance. The gateway to memories, oaths, and a chance to claim even more power.”
As he approached the river, its dark waters glimmered ominously, reflecting the muted light of the Underworld.
He turned his focus back to the swirling waters of the Styx.
“Bring forth the great Achilles!” Perseus commanded, his voice echoing across the water. The currents rippled, and for a moment, the chaos settled. The surface of the Styx began to churn, and a figure emerged from its depths.
Achilles, the legendary hero of myth, stood before him, his ethereal form radiating. “What do you seek, shadow? The tales of my glory have long since faded.”
“I am a shadow no more!” Perseus grinned widely, reveling in the recognition of his former self. “Achilles! What a delight to see you! I’ve come to ask for your wisdom... and perhaps something more.”
Achilles stepped forward, the dark waters parting around him. “My wisdom? You think you can wield the knowledge of a fallen hero? I was destined for greatness and found only sorrow.”
“Yes, but that sorrow is precisely why I need you!” Perseus replied, his enthusiasm undeterred. “You were a champion, a legend. And now, I carry your legacy in this form. I’ve been granted the chance to rewrite our fate, but I need your strength to make it happen.”
Achilles narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “You speak boldly, shadow. What do you intend to do with my legacy?”
“Chaos!” Perseus exclaimed, his voice rising with fervor. “But not the mindless kind, of course. The gods have turned their backs on us. It’s time we take the power back! With your strength and my madness, we can carve a path through the very heavens!”
Achilles studied him for a moment, then nodded, the weight of his own regrets apparent in his gaze. “To be a champion is to understand the burden of one’s power. What will you do to prove you are worthy of my curse?”
Perseus smirked, the shadows flickering around him in response to his excitement. “I am ready to confront the Styx. To swim in its depths is to embrace my past and harness its strength. I’ll gain your invincible blessing and use it to rise above the gods!”
Achilles raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “The Styx is a treacherous place, even for the greatest of heroes. Many have perished in its depths. Do you truly wish to do this?”
“More than anything!” Perseus declared. “I embrace my past, the victories and the losses. I will dive into the Styx and emerge reborn! Just as you did!”
With a nod of agreement, Achilles stepped back, allowing the shadows of the river to swirl around Perseus.
“Very well, then,” Achilles said, his voice steady. “If you succeed, you will carry the invincible blessing. But know this: the price is great.”
“Bring it on!” Perseus grinned. With a deep breath, he stepped toward the water’s edge, feeling the icy tendrils of the Styx lapping at his feet.
As he plunged into the dark depths, the water closed around him like a shroud, dragging him down into the abyss. The shadows wrapped around him, tugging at his very essence as memories of his past life as Achilles flooded his mind.
And the pain. It was definitely scream-worthy, but alas, he wasn’t able to scream.
But Perseus was undeterred. He swam deeper, pushing against the currents, feeling the shadows trying to pull him apart.
The shadows around him twisted and shimmered, and he felt a profound connection to his former self. “I did it!” he shouted. “I am Achilles reborn!”
Suddenly, the waters churned, and from the depths emerged a woman-like figure.
“Hello, Lady Styx,” Perseus said. “How’ve you been?”
The figure before him, Lady Styx, was both beautiful and terrifying. Her hair flowed like black water, her skin pale and glowing faintly against the dark current. Her eyes, dark as the deepest abyss, narrowed with an unreadable expression as she studied Perseus. The river around them stilled, as if waiting for her command.
“Perseus,” she said. “You dare to disturb my waters, to seek what few would dare claim.” Her gaze flicked over him, taking in the defiance in his stance and the determined fire in his eyes. “You are different from others who have come before. I sense something… unusual within you.”
Perseus grinned, the shadows twisting eagerly around him. “Unusual? Why, thank you. I’d hate to be predictable.”
The Lady Styx gave him a faint smile, though it held no warmth. “Power such as mine demands a price, Perseus. The great Achilles paid it, and now you must, too. Are you willing to give up everything, even a part of your very soul, to carry this blessing?”
His smile faltered only slightly. “Whatever it takes. I don’t plan on doing this halfway.”
Lady Styx’s gaze lingered on him for a long, tense moment, then she extended a hand, a single finger touching the center of his chest. Instantly, a searing pain shot through him, and he clenched his fists, gritting his teeth to hold back a scream. He could feel his essence, his very being, melding with the shadows, merging with the river itself.
“From this moment,” she intoned, “you are marked by the Styx. You are bound by its strength and its curse. Betray it, and it will reclaim you. Serve it well, and no god, no mortal, shall stand in your way.”
The pain subsided, leaving him gasping but strangely exhilarated. Perseus straightened, feeling a new surge of power, an invincibility pulsing within him. Lady Styx regarded him one last time, her expression unreadable.
“Go, Perseus, bearer of shadows and river’s might,” she said. “May you prove to be worthy of what you have claimed.”
And then she faded into the darkness. Perseus felt his mortal point - the palm of his right hand.
Perseus stared down at his right palm, the only place on his body where he felt a faint, lingering ache. The skin there appeared normal, but he could sense it was now a point of vulnerability - a tiny chink in the otherwise unbreakable armor of invincibility he had just claimed.
“Perfect,” he muttered. “I am no longer a mere mortal. I am a son of Poseidon, the master of shadows, the champion of Hades! I carry the blessing of the Styx, and I…” Perseus reached into his backpack, bringing out a long, jagged metal cylinder. “I am the Lightning Thief.”
Perseus grinned as he held the Master Bolt aloft, feeling the faint hum of power thrumming through it. The stolen bolt felt alive in his hand, crackling. It was as though he were cradling a storm - a weapon designed for the king of the gods, and now, it was his.
Immediately, a form materialised in front of him. “Hades,” Perseus drawled, “I was under the impression that our little chats were concluded.”
Hades regarded him with a gaze as sharp as the edge of the Master Bolt itself. His expression held a trace of annoyance. “It seems I underestimated the level of… enthusiasm you’d bring to this arrangement,” Hades said, his voice edged with irony. “Stealing from Zeus is a bold move, even for you.”
Perseus’s grin widened, unfazed. “I’d think you’d approve, Lord Hades. You, of all gods, should appreciate the value of a little well-placed rebellion. Isn’t that why you chose me?”
“Rebellion, yes,” Hades replied, crossing his arms, his tone turning cold. “But a fool’s death? Hardly. Zeus will notice that his bolt is missing. He may already be suspecting treachery. And let’s not forget, Perseus, you may be invincible, but you’re not immortal. Invincibility is no shield against the wrath of a god.”
Perseus shrugged, feeling the weight of the bolt in his hand, its energy vibrating through him like a living heartbeat. “Zeus has every kingdom above the Underworld, and yet he insists on hoarding power like a miser. The Master Bolt will do just fine with me.” His eyes gleamed with a fierce determination. “Besides, what’s life without a little risk?”
The God of the Underworld sighed.
Perseus grinned. “I have a… proposition. I want you to swear to not take anything in my possession forcefully.” The god raised an eyebrow. Perseus’s grin grew sly. “Surely, a simple oath wouldn’t be too much to ask from one god to his champion.”
Hades’s expression didn’t waver, but a flicker of intrigue passed through his dark eyes. “And why should I swear such an oath to you, Perseus? I am already bound by our pact. Or have you already lost faith in your so-called ‘invincibility’?”
Perseus chuckled, tapping the Master Bolt against his palm. “This has nothing to do with faith and everything to do with opportunity. After all, what harm would it do? So, swear it to me, Lord Hades. Let our agreement remain… honorable.”
Hades’s gaze darkened. “An honorable thief - how quaint.” He paused, his gaze thoughtful, then nodded. “Very well, Perseus. I swear on the Styx not to take anything from you by force, so long as you uphold your end of our arrangement.”
“Not on the Styx. On the Night.”
For once, Hades looked surprised. “You would have me swear on Nyx?”
The madman - or rather, mad boy - shrugged. “You should always get a solemn oath.”
Hades’s surprise was brief, but unmistakable. “Nyx,” he mused, his voice low and contemplative. “You have an interesting understanding of oaths, Perseus. Swearing on the Night is no trivial matter, even for a god.”
Perseus’s grin didn’t falter. “I’d think a god of the Underworld would have no trouble with that. After all, Night herself is the shadow that embraces all - gods and mortals alike. Surely you wouldn’t fear her?”
Hades regarded him with a newfound curiosity, his lips forming a faint, inscrutable smile. “You’re bolder than most who’ve stood before me.” He raised a hand, his voice deepening with ancient authority. “Very well. I swear on the Night herself that I shall not take what you hold by force, so long as you honor your commitments to me.”
Perseus felt a shift, as though the shadows themselves acknowledged the weight of the oath. His grin widened, victory in his eyes. “That’s more like it,” he replied, voice almost a purr.
And then, out of his backpack, he pulled out the stolen Helm of Darkness.
The moment the Helm of Darkness emerged, Hades’s expression turned to stone. His gaze bored into Perseus, a storm of fury swirling behind his eyes. “You have the audacity to steal my Helm, and ask me to swear on Nyx?”
Perseus held the Helm up, admiring it as though it were a trophy. “It seemed only fair, considering my… predicament.” He paused, letting the weight of the moment linger. “Besides, the helm suits me, don’t you think? Although, most things suit me, given my almost infinite handsomeness.”
Hades’s anger was barely contained, his fists clenched as he stepped forward, his voice dangerously soft. “You know not what power you toy with, Perseus. The Helm is a relic of the Underworld, its shadows bound to me and me alone. Even with your newfound strength, it will not obey you as it does me.”
Perseus tilted his head, his grin unyielding. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for obedience. Just… cooperation.” He tucked the Helm back into his pack, holding Hades’s gaze. “I have no intention of keeping it.”
Hades’s jaw tightened, his anger smoldering into reluctant admiration. “You’re reckless, Perseus. Perhaps even foolish. But cunning.” He took a deep breath, the shadows around him settling. “What did you have in mind?”
“My glorious plan: Project Persephone.”
“What?”
“I intend to… share the Helm, so to speak. You would keep it for some time, and I would keep it for some time, much like how Persephone stays in the Underworld for half the year. And that’s just part one.”
Hades groaned. “Part one?”
Perseus’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, come on, Hades. Project Persephone. Doesn’t the name just sing? It’s brilliant, if I say so myself. What better way to create chaos than to force the very queen of the Underworld back to the mortal realm? The gods won’t know what hit them.”
“Why would you do that?”
Perseus’s grin widened, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Think about it. Persephone is kept here against her will for half the year, forced to live apart from the world above. But imagine if we… loosened things up a bit. Gave her more freedom to travel between realms, blend the borders a bit. Not only would she be happier, but it might just throw Olympus off-balance.”
Hades raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear in his gaze. “You want to involve my wife in your schemes?”
“Not involve. Liberate,” Perseus corrected, his tone dripping with theatrical flair. “Consider it a gift to the lady. She deserves the choice, don’t you think?”
Hades’s gaze turned calculating, the shadows around him flickering with intrigue. “You think she’ll trust you, an audacious, power-hungry mortal who has the gall to hold my Helm hostage?”
“I think she’ll see reason. She’s a goddess of growth and change, after all. And maybe she’d enjoy seeing her dear husband wrestle with the idea of having a partnership with a mortal.” Perseus smirked, crossing his arms confidently.
Hades’s expression was unreadable. “You’re a strange creature, Perseus. And dangerously persuasive.” He shook his head, sighing as though resigning himself to an inevitable chaos. “But if you fail, you’ll suffer consequences far greater than anything you’ve faced before. Why would you want to do this?”
“Two things,” Perseus replied smoothly. “First, the attention of the gods drawn to her reappearance, giving me the space to enact my own plans. And second...” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “A chance to explore the weakness in Olympus's foundation. Who knows what secrets might fall from the heavens with a little push?”
Hades considered him for a long, tense moment. “And how, exactly, do you plan to ‘reappear’ my wife without bringing the wrath of Olympus upon us both?”
“Easy,” Perseus said, tapping his backpack. “I have my ways.”
“Alright,” Hades sighed.
Perseus inclined his head. “That’s the spirit!” He gave an exaggerated bow. “Let’s start Project Persephone.”
“Oh no, I must discuss this with my wife, nephew,” Hades said, reminding the insane demigod that he was just a mortal in a world of gods.
And a god was infinitely superior to a mortal.
“It is acceptable.” And still, the mortal acted as if he held the power in this scenario.
Hades’s mouth twitched as though restraining a smile. “Very well. But heed my words, Perseus. The path you’re on is dangerous, even by the standards of a son of Poseidon and the champion of shadows. Zeus’s patience is notoriously short, and his punishments… well, you’d do well to avoid them.”
Perseus met his gaze, unyielding. “Then let him come. With this power, I intend to make the gods remember the name of Perseus - truly remember it.”
Hades regarded him for a long moment, then gave a slight nod. “So be it,” he said, and with a flick of his hand, he vanished back into the shadows, leaving Perseus alone with the crackling bolt in his grip.
He was alone.
Alone in a new body, with new blessings, wielding new powers, and guess what?
No-one was ready for him.
“Oh, Percy,” Perseus taunted, weaving through the Underworld. “You’re just a memory now. Watch, and learn what it means to be powerful.”
And with that, he set his sights on the surface, ready to unleash his chaos upon the world.
The poor, poor world that had to deal with this absolutely insane demigod.