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Chapter Text

Athena brought her hands to her head as another shock zipped down her neck. Wincing, she removed her helmet as she gazed deep into the mirror in her study. The physical markings had long since vanished, Apollo’s brilliant handiwork cleansing her skin of all signs of weakness. Still, every once in a while, her mind would have a fit, like the connections within her godly brain had never quite healed properly. While not nearly as debilitating as it had been in the Roman years, Apollo still had not found a cure, though it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying.

The shocks returned with a vitriol that she had not felt in centuries. It was a danger that she needed to traverse any time she wished to get lost in her library of memories, many contaminated by the eternal lightning stored within Zeus’ Master Bolt. Despite her years of study, she had yet to figure out how she survived. A powerful weapon capable of defeating Typhon should have scattered her essence such that even forming a consciousness would have been impossible, cursing her to meander the closest thing to hell that an immortal could experience. 

Instead, as the overpowering fire of electricity overtook her, Odysseus came to her mind. He alone was the reason she was willing to undergo her father’s foolish games, a last desperate attempt at atonement. Then, as she was shattered into a million pieces, an invisible thread pulled her back together, her first friend acting like a beacon that held her together. In all her millennia of study, reading every book in every divine and mortal language, none of it could explain what happened. Yet, as she crawled on hands and knees to her father to plead her case, it was the only time she had ever seen remorse on his face, a last desperate hope that he wasn’t gone.

In her insatiable search for knowledge, she had even prostrated herself before Aphrodite to see if it was related to some uniquely human element she could never truly understand. The fickle and fleeting nature of mortal emotions would forever remain an enigma, but it was the only possible explanation. All other plausible reasons had become exhausted. 

“Who knows?” Aphrodite had dismissed her without a second glance. “Love is fickle, but even you are not above such intense feelings.”

Athena scoffed at such a ridiculous notion. Yet, in the centuries since their conversation, Athena had gotten no closer to finding answers or a cure. She winced as another shock ran through her. Two in one day was rare, but it was no surprise considering her recollections about Odysseus. A soft pang of…something ran through her as she thought of him. Of all the Warriors of the Mind she had cultivated, he was by far the most special. Yet, at the end of the day, all that became of his story was what the world now called The Odyssey . A tragic figure with a happy ending. She wished she could parse the truth with the precision she possessed before her injury. Now, the further back in time she went, the more her memories became muddled together. 

She didn’t even notice that her breathing had picked up. Memories of that fight with her father began to flood her as the tingling of another shock reared itself. Shakily, she swallowed, her face flushing golden as beads of sweat lined her forehead. These sorts of…attacks were rare, but she’d get lost in thought occasionally, and her body would respond with weakness.  

Athena clenched her jaw as she placed her golden helmet back onto her head. She was a goddess and had responsibilities. Time had changed the world, the Gods being little more than remnants of their former selves in the public mind. They possessed all the same power, but the Gods were no longer respected because of the stricter enforcement of the Ancient Laws. After Odysseus, legendary heroes had become separated from their parentage. Of course, the fact that most world-changers had been her children filled her with pride, sharpening the world through their creativity and intellect. 

“The boy is following again,” Glauca, her owl, flew onto her shoulder to deliver her report. “I cannot be near without him noticing.”

The corners of Athena’s lips turned upward. “Interesting. Does he know?”

The owl shook her head. “I don’t think so, but he seems perceptive and incredibly resourceful. I can assure you he is a demigod.”

Athena pursed her lips, allowing Glauca’s report to percolate. There was something strange about the boy. For one thing, he wasn’t hers, but he was incredibly resourceful, and his instincts were immaculate. He only carried a celestial bronze knife; his backstory was an enigma. Curiously, it was a few weeks prior that he had prayed to her directly. Mysteries were captivating, a way to add to her collection of knowledge. 

“I’ll be going out,” Athena told Glauca. “Make sure none of the other gods mess with my private library.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Glauca hooted happily. “Might I ask where you’re going?”

“Annabeth is turning sixteen. I must bestow her with her gift. Would you go fetch it for me?”

Glauca gave a slight bow before leaving. They both knew that Athena could have just summoned it for herself if she wanted, but the goddess couldn’t shake the enigma of the boy. Demigods shouldn’t have been able to survive on their own for very long. Yet he was thriving and had at least some knowledge of his identity. It wasn’t exactly hidden that she was the patron of heroes, but any demigod who knew that would have found himself in a monster's stomach by the age of ten. 

A shock brought her hands to her head in frustration. Why had she allowed this to happen? It made sense that gods couldn’t interfere directly with their children. The grief tantrums of Poseidon and Zeus over the millennia made that clear, but why were monsters allowed to roam and torment the young demigods? 

Another strong zap made her hands tremble. What had she been thinking about? She shook her head, trying to evaporate the fog that overtook her. Scowling, she cursed. She was as sharp as ever guiding mortals. However, discovering mysteries about herself or the gods always resulted in the same painful reaction.

Glauca, noticing Athena’s wince, returned with a New York Yankees baseball cap, carried in her sharp beak. “What’s wrong?” 

Athena waved her off. “It’s nothing. Just got lost in thought again.” 

She waved her hand over the cap as it began to shimmer. Smiling, she inspected her work. It would be perfect for Annabeth. Of all her children, Annabeth was unrivaled in combat, strategy, and wit. The ability to turn invisible would be ideal for her. Many of her other children, especially in the recent centuries, had been far more apt to other activities such as painting, the arts, and politics. From what she had heard about Camp, her children excelled with nearly all types of weaponry, and their memories were immaculate.

As she prepared for her departure, there was a slight knock on the study door. Sighing, she opened it, hoping whoever it was would leave quickly. 

“The Master Bolt has been stolen.” Hermes was out of breath and flushed. “Zeus is furious. He needs you to go and search for it. Ares, Artemis, Apollo, and others are already out and about.”

Athena pinched the bridge of her nose at the news. Her father had become even more irritable since the mortals rejected paganism. Now, he’d be completely insufferable and ask her for advice. While she was always happy to advise her king, any time he’d summon her specifically, she’d leave with a foggy recollection of how things had gone. 

“I’ll go looking for it. Any idea where the others are?” Athena said. “I’m just going to stop by Camp first. Things have been amiss for a while, and it is my daughter’s birthday today.”

Hermes pulled out his Caduceus, transformed it into a cell phone, and checked his messages. “No idea, but I haven’t heard from them. If you want to avoid Dad, I’d suggest you get going.”

With a nod, Athena put the cap on her desk. Much easier to summon if she knew the location, even if her mind was foggy. “Thank you for the warning, Hermes. Try not to work yourself to death. Apparently, the mortals have discovered something called burnout. I wonder if it afflicts you.”

Hermes just raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about my well-being?”

“Since it looked like you were about to keel over and die. Then no one would be around to deliver messages.” Athena said. 

Hermes grumbled. “The internet was the worst thing I ever invented. Makes my job so much harder.”

“I warned you it would,” Athena chided. 

“Whatever, just go find the bolt so Dad isn’t breathing down our necks.”

As Athena nodded, Hermes flashed away. Great, exactly what she needed. Another crisis, and on a day where her shocks were worse than they had been in centuries. Snacking on some nectar and ambrosia, she disappeared quickly, hoping to avoid Zeus’ unrestrained ire.

____

Everyone in her cabin immediately bowed, but none did so quicker than Annabeth. A small smile flickered across Athena’s face at the cleanliness of her children. They all had talents, but they were all uniquely hers, crafted from her mind exquisitely and immaculately. Their piercing gray eyes all looked at her, awaiting further instructions.

“At ease,” Athena said. “I must speak with Annabeth for a moment, that is all.”

The remainder of her children returned to what they were doing, the bustling of a busy cabin returning. Athena frowned slightly, the raucous noise uncharacteristically bothering her. She sighed, thinking it would be one of those days that sleep might be beneficial. Gods weren’t supposed to need sleep, but it was the only way for her to truly “reset” on shocking days. 

Annabeth remained on one knee, her head bowed, motionless, awaiting further instructions. Athena allowed a small smile to come across her face. Indeed, no child of hers, at least of this generation, would deserve such a worthy gift. 

“Rise, my child,” Athena said. “Happy birthday.” 

Reaching through her domains, she found her desk, right where she left the cap, and pulled it through time and space. Annabeth's jaw dropped as it materialized in her hand, unsure of what to do.

“Thanks, Mother,” Annabeth replied stiffly. “What does it do?”

“Now, now,” Athena chided. “Since when have I explained things up front? Of all my children, you should know this above all.”

“Right,” Annabeth said. “Sorry, mother.” 

The iciness in her daughter’s tone made Athena pause. Should she not be thoroughly thrilled to see her mother for the first time? Especially on such an important day, marking the beginning of her official journey into womanhood. Athena sighed. Godly emotions were complicated enough as they were, but mortal emotions would forever remain an enigma. 

“Have you considered what you would like to do for the remainder of your life?” Athena asked. “How will you make your mark on the world?”

Annabeth’s eyes brightened slightly, though they still held a harsh edge. “Yes, Mother, I want to be an architect. To build a monument to the gods that will last a thousand years.”

“Architecture, then?” 

Annabeth nodded. “Yes, I believe that is my gift. Thank you.”

“Good choice, daughter.” Athena praised. “One must spend their life building and creating to leave something behind that did not exist prior. Many of my fellow Olympians find greater glory in destruction. Be sharper than some of my foolish relatives.”

“You shall find my blessing within your birthday present,” she continued. “It will help you in your endeavors, so long as they remain constructive.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Good, now then. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day. There has been a little mishap on Olympus that I must attend to, but I hope your siblings treat you well.” The eyes of the owl on the cabin door flared, the stone pupils turning a stormy gray like her own. “I shall know if they do not.”

A small smile crept onto Annabeth’s face. ‘I will, mom.” She opened her mouth but closed it almost immediately, unsure what to say. Instead, she opted for another small bow as she turned and returned inside the cabin.

“Oh joy, what are you doing here?” Dionysus’s grating voice rang out. “This is my Camp, you know?”

“I didn’t realize you had become so fond of the children. Perhaps I should invite Zeus to lengthen your sojournment?” Athena retorted. “I merely came to wish my daughter a happy birthday.”

Dionysus scowled. “I’m going to repeat myself. What are you doing here? Our father is furious.”

“Oh, relax,” Athena spat. “I have split myself to assist in the search. I merely needed a fraction to grant my daughter a gift for her sixteenth birthday. I know that you have twins. You would have done the same.”

Smirking, she summoned a small goblet of wine. The horrid taste nearly made her recoil, but the look of indignation on Dionysus’s face made it all worth it. Finishing, she forced a smile as the wine god began to turn the same shade as his grapes. 

“I could report you to Zeus for this!” He yelled. “He’ll want to know why you haven’t been searching!”

“I’m sure he’d take the word of his drunkard son over his most loyal advisor,” Athena said with a smirk. “Especially when he could prove that alcohol has been involved. I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

Dionysus looked ready to explode, but he said nothing. Instead, he stalked off towards the Big House, muttering obscenities about owls that nearly made her want to spear him anyway.

The only thing that stopped her was Chiron standing between them, deep in a bow. 

“Lady Athena,” he said. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“It is Annabeth’s sixteenth birthday, so I decided to deliver her present personally,” she said. “It is custom that I deliver my children a present as they come of age.”

Chiron shifted uncomfortably. “Lady Athena, you know that coming of age is eighteen, right?”

“Of course I know that,” she said. “But sixteen is the beginning of such a process, and especially with the lives of our young heroes being as they are, I think sixteen is more than sufficient in transitioning them to adulthood. Now, do not accuse me of such foolishness again.”

“Yes, Lady Athena,” Chiron said, though his tone was icy. “I have heard rumors from Olympus. Are they true?”

Athena nodded. “Yes, though I ask that you keep it a secret from the campers. I suspect the weather will begin to worsen.” On cue, a thunderclap boomed in the air. Chiron paled as his worst fears were confirmed. “We are currently searching, though if I must be honest, I doubt we shall find it. The Fates themselves must wish it found, and if they do, a quest will be issued.”

“You could do it.” Chiron reasoned. “You and I both know that Fate arrives whether we like it or not, but to live in such a way would be foolish beyond belief.”

“I fear it is not wise to issue the quest immediately,” Athena said. “That may set into motion events that can never be undone.”

A soft breeze drifted through Camp as a smile crept onto Chiron’s face. “Unfortunately, I fear these events will happen whether we like them or not.”

Athena nodded as another sharp shock went through her head. Her eye twitched in response, unwilling to show weakness in front of the trainer of heroes. Once again, the boy Glauca had described came to the forefront of her mind. He was connected to things; she could feel it in her bones, though if he were a foe, she would have no problem ending his life where he stood. 

“But we must do everything we can to prepare our heroes,” Athena said, fighting the fog that accompanied the shocks. “To not prepare is preparing to fail.” As she opened her mouth to voice her concern about the relative lack of godly involvement in the training of heroes, another vicious shock rang through her, forcing her to wince. 

“Lady Athena, are you alright?” Chiron asked, concern in his eyes. “If things are serious, I can go get Lord Apollo or get you some ambrosia.”

Faking a smile, Athena steadied herself, the searing pain dissipating as she allowed the thought to vanish. “It’s quite alright, just a little difficult when I split myself in so many ways.”

Chiron frowned, unconvinced, though he did not press, much to Athena’s gratitude. “I see. Do you have any idea who may be behind the theft? I find it highly unlikely that our young heroes could orchestrate such a heist without godly assistance.”

“I have a few ideas,” Athena reasoned. “None to be confirmed, but it would be wise to begin with examinations of my father’s brothers. Hades has always remained bitter, and Poseidon has attempted to overthrow the throne once before.”

Chiron opened his mouth but quickly shut it. If she had to guess, Athena would bet that he wanted to mention her involvement in the plot. However, her memory of it was incredibly hazy. “That would make sense, although I am unsure when the opportunity would have arisen. Perhaps an immortal not of the godly ilk?”

Athena shook her head. “While possible, I don’t find it likely. The Titans are either imprisoned or too weak to garner any serious support. Additionally, while I do not pretend to understand many of our heroes, I do not believe that they would take guidance from any but the most manipulative. Plus, there is the small matter that there were no unusual visitors to Olympus. At the very least, no one of Titan's blood was there. That also includes known neutrals such as Hecate.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Chiron said. “I simply wish to grant any potential hero with the knowledge necessary to accept the quest.”

Athena sighed. “Perhaps, although I suspect that the order for a quest will come from my father. The quest would be a far safer alternative than whatever would happen to someone who denies him will say.”

Chiron raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience, my lady.” 

“I guess you could say that,” she said. “Though that’s just general knowledge among the Olympians. Saying no to a king is a very unwise thing indeed. We must be as cautious as possible.” 

“As usual, you are right,” Chiron said. “Is there any other wisdom you wish to bestow, or should I get to my Archery class?”

“At ease,” Athena said. “My business is done here. Just teach the children to be cautious. I have faith in your abilities.”

“Then I wish you a blessed day, my lady,” Chiron said. “I do hope that whatever ails you is resolved shortly.”

“I am a goddess; there is nothing wrong with me.” Athena snapped, though Chiron did not flinch. 

“I did not imply any such thing, my lady,” Chiron said, turning towards the Archery range. “Please forgive me.”

With one final bow, he did not wait for a response, instead trotting towards his class. With a small smile, Athena noticed how her children handled the weapons. They did not possess the same natural affinity as many children of Apollo or of herself, but they were serviceable. Excellence was attained through perfect repetition, and nothing less than the best could be accepted. 

Taking one final look around Camp, she couldn’t shake the slight dread that made her nervously bite her lip. Chiron seeing right through her was a problem, though she suspected the trainer of Heroes would have the decency to keep quiet. Instead, every minute that passed without news about the Master Bolt made her anxiety flare. Her usual coldness was slipping, tendrils of panic crawling into her mind. Allowing simple emotions to occupy important mental space in a crisis was unacceptable. 

Closing her eyes, she returned to her study for a brief respite before further investigating the young demigod in the woods. Glauca could tell her where he was, and then her plan could be set in motion to see if his enigmatic qualities were merely a facade. 

____

Donning a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, Athena scowled. As much as she would have preferred to wear what the maidens of Greece wore, she would have stood out too much. If the boy was as brilliant as she suspected, he’d see right through her, rendering her challenge inert. Instead, she was forced to wear the restrictive clothing of the mortal maidens. Combine that with a fake splint for her ankle, and it was no wonder she was already feeling a little antsy.

She sat on a large stump in the middle of a spacious clearing. Glauca was already in pursuit. Now, it was up to him to notice. According to Glauca, the boy had been slaying nearly every monster in his path with nothing other than his knife. Save one. The Minotaur. She was curious whether the boy would find a way to slay the beast or if he would run as she asked for his protection. 

Of course, running would be the wisest course of action, and the boy had been stellar thus far. Now, though, when forced to face the hideous beast, his wit would need to combine with his instincts. He would be at a disadvantage, just like many armies when ambushed. Thinking on his feet would be just as important as planned traps. What would he do when he didn’t have the advantage but escape was impossible?

A faint hoot in the woods told Athena that her time was coming. Acting was always enjoyable, and now she could just pretend and observe her subject, able to vanish should danger get too close. If the boy died in the effort, then he wasn’t a worthy candidate to be a Warrior of the Mind in the first place. Then, his godly parent would be responsible for his blood if it painted the dirt red. 

“What did you want to show me?” The boy’s voice rang out through the woods as Glauca flew through the final layer of trees. “I’ve seen you around everywhere, but you haven’t tried to kill me.”

Athena frowned at the boy’s lack of caution, though she supposed he was right. Her owl had been watching him for weeks, so if Glauca wanted to kill him, she would have already done so. Plus, the boy seemed naturally curious, and his voice oozed confidence. Now, though, it was time to see. The Minotaur was already on its way, something the boy would likely be aware of with his keen perception. 

The boy barreled through the trees, his chest heaving. His face was glistening, though he did not seem exhausted. That was good. Tired but not exhausted was the perfect condition to plan. It was when the body could find its rhythm, allowing the mind to work freely. His inquisitive gaze found Athena, and his eyes filled with concern.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked softly. “It isn’t safe for you out here.”

“I got lost,” Athena said, changing her voice to mimic a typical twelve-year-old girl. “Please, can you help me get home?”

The boy nodded, though his eyes kept glancing at the opening of trees he had just come from. “Yes, I can. What’s your name?”

“Annabeth,” Athena lied, trembling for effect. “What’s yours?”

“Percy,” He said. “Can you move? I think something bad is coming, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Athena pulled up the leg of her jeans, revealing her splint. “Only if you can carry me,” she said. 

Percy sighed as he crouched beside her, examining the injury closely but not touching it. His eyes darted back towards the rustling of the trees, far too close to make a hasty escape. He pulled out one of his knives, made of regular steel rather than celestial bronze.

“I hope you don’t need to use this,” he said as he handed it over. “But things might get messy. We’ve got an awful monster on the way. I’m sorry I accidentally led it to you.”

Athena nodded, watching with anticipation as Percy surveyed his surroundings. He pulled out his celestial bronze knife from a holster on the waistband of his jeans. Adopting a grip like he had trained for years, he immediately created some distance between himself and her. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “But the monster is after me, and if I’m close to you, he might attack you instead. So don’t worry, okay? It’ll all work out.” 

Athena simply watched, nodding in line with her part. That was definitely a check in the right direction. With a creature as powerful as the Minotaur, collateral damage was unavoidable. She smiled to herself as he passed the first test. At the very least, he was willing to look out for others, even at risk to himself. After all, he’d only need to keep running for another hour before the beast would lie down to rest for a couple days. 

The Minotaur barreled through the trees as smoke billowed from his nostrils. His bare muscles rippled with rage as his black pupils found Percy. Narrowing his eyes, the beast lowered his head, eager to find its target. 

Meanwhile, Percy had found some cover by one of the trees. Close enough to distract the monster from noticing her but far enough that the beast would need to work up a full head of steam if it wanted to reach him before he disappeared. Of course, if the animal had any brains, it would scan the surroundings and notice her. Although considering how easily Theseus had tricked it, Athena guessed that the beast had not learned its lesson. 

The Minotaur began to charge as Percy readied himself in a stance. It was unusual, different from any form she had taught her children, but at first glance, it seemed practical. Instead of operating from a position of power, he was light on his feet, ready to dart out of the way at a moment’s notice. His movements were fluid, like the water, as he stood still, waiting for the monster to arrive.

At the last second, Percy dove out of the way. The Minotaur, who had finally hit high gear, could not turn and drove straight into a massive Oak tree. The resounding crash from the impact reverberated throughout the clearing, echoing off the neighboring forest. Percy approached the beast from behind, ready to strike with his knife.

Unfortunately, the Minotaur was more sturdy than he looked. He flailed around, striking Percy in the process. While the demigod held control of the knife, his breathing looked labored. Using her godly hearing, she could hear him gasping for air as he winced, bringing his hand to his ribs. 

The Minotaur huffed in satisfaction as he lowered his head again. Percy gritted his teeth as he adopted the same stance. This time, though, his feet were pointed directly at the creature, preparing an attack from below. Athena smiled slightly at the attempt, curious if the new method would succeed. 

Instead, the Minotaur held his arms out as he charged, just as Percy predicted. Athena placed herself into his mind, allowing her intelligence to read his. His legs tensed as he dropped to a roll, ready to slash the beast’s massive leg. Percy ducked below the grab as time slowed, slashing at the beast’s inner thigh. However, the shortcomings of the plan quickly became apparent.

The ripping of flesh and the pouring of golden blood meant that he found his target, but now he was in danger. Using his massive leg, the Minotaur kneed Percy square in the chest, sending a sickening crunch echoing throughout the clearing. A small grunt of pain escaped as he gritted his teeth. 

The Minotaur stumbled as he placed weight on his damaged leg, his pace slowing with a limp. His gaze turned murderous as the sound of an angry cow escaped from his snout. Percy turned his eyes toward Athena, still unnoticed by the beast, as he prepared another attack. His mind was racing, though Athena was pleased as his next plan came to fruition. Additionally, no thoughts of abandoning her even crossed his mind, another mark in his favor.

Wincing, Percy stared at the beast as he backed up toward the tree. It was a crazy plan, but Athena agreed it was the best option considering the circumstances. He was covered in bruises and cuts and had several broken ribs. Hot shooting pains went through him with every breath, but he had a job to do.  

“Hey, stupid!” Percy yelled, sucking air. “Is that all you got?”

The Minotaur roared in response, falling for the bait. He pawed the ground angrily, preparing another charge. Golden ichor flowed from the wound, leaving a slowly growing pool of gold in the middle of the grassy ravine. At a slower pace, the beast charged again, cautious from the injury. He held out his arms like before, unwilling to fall for the same trick twice. Percy stood, a taunting smile still on his face, goading the bull forward as he maneuvered closer to the tree behind him.

This time, Percy jumped as the beast approached. As it collided with a teeth-shattering impact, the demigod landed on the beast’s back and placed him in an unshakeable headlock. Percy gritted his teeth as the beast roared in indignation. Still, Athena smiled as the boy realized the monster could only go forward. 

The Minotaur began to thrash violently, reaching his arms back in a desperate attempt to throw Percy off, but the demigod held on. Gripping the monster’s neck with one arm, he drew back his knife and plunged it into its eye socket. 

A roar of agony escaped the creature as golden blood began to pour from its eyes. Percy’s eyes glinted as he pulled out his knife, admiring the ichor flowing from it. Not satisfied, he plunged it into the monster’s other eye socket, rendering it blind. Percy wrapped his second arm around the creature as it began to howl. The monster’s large hands began ripping at Percy’s forearms, desperate to throw him off. It began barreling into trees, now blind, running deeper into the forest, the knife now firmly lodged in the beast’s skull. 

Athena watched with interest, curious how Percy would deliver the final blow. After all, if he let go, he’d risk falling off and letting the monster heal. While he had performed admirably thus far, she’d have to fail him if the beast got away. She smiled as Percy’s final crazy plan was revealed to her. 

Instead of letting go, Percy simply drove the knife further into the creature’s eye socket. His arm was soaked in the monster’s blood as he pushed it deeper, agonized howls escaping. Yet Percy did not look phased, instead ignoring the pain in his ribs and shoulders and forcing it into the creature’s brain. Good, Athena thought. Don’t allow the agony of an enemy to distract you. 

With one final roar, the Minotaur vanished in a burst of golden dust. Percy fell to the ground with a grunt, grabbing his ribs in pain. All that remained was a singular horn, the spoil of war. Wincing, Percy stood up, holding his rightful trophy, and Athena could sense him coming back to the clearing to check on her.

“Are you alright?” Percy asked, trying to hide his wince. “The monster is gone now.”

Athena dropped the act, drawing herself up to her full height. Her clothes slowly began to morph into their Greek equivalent, a white chiton draping over her royally. She summoned her spear, holding it before her, the golden point standing just above her eye level. Satisfied, she flicked her hand, allowing her energy to flow into Percy to heal his wounds. It was only fair, after all. 

Percy bowed, though his lips only uttered one question. “My lady, was the owl yours?”

Glauca landed on her shoulder, the owl’s beady eyes looking at the demigod in front of her with approval. “Yes,” Athena answered with a smile. “So I take it I don’t need to introduce myself?”

“Thank you, Lady Athena, for the healing,” Percy said. “Goddess of Wisdom, Patron of heroes and the Arts.”

“I must admit, you are an enigma, and I have several questions for you,” Athena began. “But first,” she held out her hand, inviting Percy to grip. Tentatively, he took the goddess's hand, clearly uncomfortable as he closed his eyes. 

Athena allowed herself to melt through time and space for her personal study. It was tradition for all of her Warriors, and by all accounts, Percy had passed the test. His touch was definitely foreign, usually an unwelcome gesture, but she could not feel any malice from the boy. Plus, considering how awful her shocks had been, she didn’t want to risk anything being slightly off. Not when she’d have so many eyes on her.

In an instant, they had teleported to her study. Percy let go of her hand as his jaw dropped. Athena smirked at the flabbergasted young man next to her. Nevertheless, he was by far the most promising pupil she had ever seen who wasn’t one of her own children, and even among them, he had the potential to be special. 

“Welcome to my study,” Athena announced. “Also known as the training grounds for Warriors of the Mind.”

Chapter Text

Athena smiled at Percy's open mouth. Her study stood before them, expanding near limitlessly in all directions. To the left was a gargantuan library, furnished with hundreds of oak shelves stuffed to the brim with every work of literature ever crafted. The dark wood glimmered against the layers of parchment wedged within the narrow gaps of the books, pages lined with millennia of her own study and observation. They flickered as Athena sifted through her favorites in her mind, highlighting themselves to be summoned at a moment’s notice. 

While his mortal lifespan would limit his capacity for learning, she hoped Percy’s intellect would be sufficient for the mental trials that would soon await him. As his eyes darted to the first volume on the shelf: Sun Tzu’s Art of War, a small smile crawled onto her face. A faint inkling of excitement tickled her brain. It didn’t seem possible, but every quality she demanded of her pupils oozed in abundance from Percy, ready to be crafted in her perfect hands. 

The right section of her study, however, was where they would be spending most of their time. Practice dummies surrounded the arena like terracotta soldiers, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Suits of armor spanning all of history hung from their mannequins as a glorious testament to the evolution of warfare. 

And most importantly, against the wall directly next to them, hung her weapons display.

Percy fidgeted excitedly as his eyes perused the arms. All manner of swords, maces, spears, and daggers were meticulously hung there. Directly below the rack of weapons lay a variety of shields. There were far fewer to choose from, but his eyes did not devour them with the same ferocity as the blades.

“What exactly is a Warrior of the Mind?” Percy asked, transfixed as he took in the space. “I haven’t really heard of them. Is it like a champion?”

“Kind of,” Athena explained patiently. “It’s the process by which I choose my champions.”

“I see,” Percy said after a moment. He continued scanning the massive space. “So basically, you’re going to mentor me and see if I can measure up?”

“Yes,” Athena said with a nod. She studied him, head tilting to the side.

The boy carried himself well; like most other demigods, she could feel the restlessness vibrating within him, yearning for release. His energy had startled her when she had grasped his hand, swimming fiercely through her. Despite herself, the corners of her lips quirked upwards at the thought of his potential. 

She shook her head slightly, snapping out of her reverie. If she were to mentor him properly, she’d need to know everything about him.

“I have a few questions for you as well. I must admit, I find you fascinating. How did you know to pray to me?” He froze.

“My mother,” Percy said stiffly. His eyes darted, avoiding her own as his hands clenched into fists. “She always ensured I learned everything I could about the gods.”

“I take it that something happened to her?” Athena asked, not unkindly. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been in the woods.”

“Yes,” Percy said, the word short and clipped. His jaw rippled as he flexed his fingers from their fist, forcing himself to relax. For a moment the ground shook with the tiniest of tremors, and Athena paused.

For once, she hesitated. The boy’s discomfort was obvious on his face. She pursed her lips as she contemplated how she should approach the situation. He possessed far too much potential to goad him into an outburst on his first day. Yet she needed to learn precisely what Percy had been taught and gather information to help identify his godly parent.  

“Are you aware of how monsters track demigods?” She asked, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Kind of?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s kind of related to scent or whatever.”

“More or less,” Athena said. Her shoulders rolled forward as she relaxed her stiff, regal posture. “You see, Monsters can naturally sense the Mist. Technology, for example, disrupts the Mist. Demigods are natural anomalies, a balance between mortality and divinity. This tension causes disruptions in the Mist, and Monsters interpret these disruptions through scent. As a demigod gets stronger, their disruptions become easier to detect. The hungrier and larger monsters will pursue their prey this way.”

“Makes sense,” Percy shrugged. He studied her. “I take it you’re going to ask how I survived so long on my own?”

“I was,” Athena said with a nod. “And most curiously, your knife. Celestial Bronze must be forged; I find it highly unlikely that you did it yourself. Did a god give it to you?”

Percy shook his head. “No, my lady. My mother…” his voice wavered. A prick of sympathy pierced her heart. “My mother gave it to me, before…before. Apparently, my dad gave it to her.”

Athena sighed at the tightness in Percy’s voice. His eyes were faraway, his body tense. His fists were clenched at his sides again. She shot him with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, though the action felt foreign. Sudden indecision washed over her.

She was disappointed that Percy hadn’t named his father, and yet she got the feeling that he didn’t know. It would not surprise her; few members of her family stuck around long enough to pass their identities along.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Athena said. “When did it happen?”

“About a year ago,” Percy answered with a tense shrug. “I’ve been on the run since.”

Athena frowned. Percy’s mother seemed like a wise enough woman; teaching her son to pray, teaching him about the Greek myths. And yet, she hadn’t sent him to safety. The Ancient Laws dictated that gods inform the mortal parent of Camp upon the child’s birth. Additionally, the parent would be notified of the inherent risk posed to them when the child turned twelve. Yet, despite her clear brilliance, she did not follow the instructions regarding Percy’s well-being. She had not sent this boy to Camp.

Percy gave her a look, like he could see right through her, before saying, “My mother…she could always see things, even when I couldn’t. She was the one who taught me how to use the knife.”

Athena sighed. If she had to guess, Percy’s mother likely struggled with giving him up, even for his own safety. For most parents, the thought of giving up their children was far too painful to bear. Instead, they gripped tighter, afraid that Camp was a permanent goodbye. This was something Athena only had a theoretical knowledge of. Although, real or imagined, she had felt soft pangs with each child she gifted to their mortal father. Her sojournment into motherhood through Erichthonius opened her mind to the intellectual and emotional attachment mortal mothers experienced…even though he had been conceived in a less-than-desirable way.

“For some mortals, the Mist cannot cloud their mind,” Athena explained. “Your mother was clear-sighted. While usually not dangerous for them, to those who are ignorant, they find themselves slowly succumbing to insanity.”

“Thanks for the explanation,” Percy said quickly. “But it wasn’t a mythical monster that killed her.” 

Athena pursed her lips, taken aback by Percy’s quick outburst. His face rippled with emotion. Her mouth moved, ready to press for information. Information was more valuable than ambrosia; it was the only way his training would be perfect. But she hesitated. A memory sprung up, unprompted, at her insensitivity to Odysseus lifetimes ago. That thought held her back.

“A mortal was responsible?” She asked instead. 

Percy nodded curtly, his gaze everywhere but on her, clearly eager to end this conversation. Athena sighed, unsure if she did the right thing. Her eye twitched. Figuring out his parentage would be of the utmost importance. She could see the waves of power emanating from him, this raw specimen that had ever garnered her favor. Yet, the source was obscure. Unique. She’d never seen anything like him before. She took in his appearance, the dark hair and green eyes. She quickly dismissed the possibilities buzzing through her mind at his close familial resemblance. 

“Well then,” Athena repositioned her helmet atop her head, her eyes glowing brilliantly. “I suppose we had better get started. Don’t disappoint me.”

Dismissed, Percy turned towards the weapons once more. He perused the racks of swords and daggers, pointedly ignoring the shields altogether. Athena laughed silently to herself; he'd have to get over his aversion to shields and build proficiency with them if he wanted to master fighting and weaponry, but those skills could be taught. She nodded in approval as he pulled a sword from the rack, a long celestial bronze blade singing with divine energy.

She illuminated the arena in the center of her study, casting a golden glow across the space like a stage light. As soon as he decided he was ready, they would begin.

As he embarked toward the arena, swinging his sword experimentally, a deep sense of calm washed over her. Her lips twitched upwards into a half smile as she thought of her challenge. She’d relish uncovering every mystery Percy hid from her. Maybe this time, she’d found a pupil who could handle perfection.

____

Athena studied Percy as he ripped through her dummies effortlessly. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin as his body dipped and spun. It was like someone had made war into an art.

He only used a training spear, but his combat senses were immaculate, especially for only one month of training. With a great slash, he decimated the final wave of animated bodies. The fake blood within the dummies was splattered all over his clothes and face, causing little rivulets of smoke where the cool spatters touched his burning skin.

He spun to face where she sat just outside the arena, a wide grin in his face. He was reveling in his newfound skills, but something nagged at Athena. 

Frustration, raw and dangerous, welled within her. He was imperfect. It was far from his own fault; they’d gone through nearly every weapon she had in her study, but they were all missing something.

Imperfect. The word sent a pit to her stomach as it crossed her mind again.

Despite his strong physique, every attempt to train left an inexplicable tension, something that slowed his movements and kept him off balance. Even his own dagger brought the same result. His potential was just out of reach. It had changed his mystery from fascinating to infuriating.

“Again,” she called out, waving a hand to summon a dozen suits of bronze armor from her collection and fastening them to the lifelike dummies. Athena desperately scanned his body for deficiencies, for weakness, as he took his stance. It didn’t make sense, but the fluidity with which her children could handle weapons was severely lacking. Her temples ached as her godly mind continued to race. Her eyebrows twitched sharply.

She winced, then scowled as she took in Percy’s once again flawless stance. His movements had the most minor of hitches, imperceptible to the human eye. Although, she thought bitterly, that was likely due to his fatigue, not his technique.

With some difficulty, he parried the strike of the first dummy as he plunged his spear into its soft underarms, coating his face red with the liquid. 

Pressing further, Athena sent another wave, two on each flank. Percy had maneuvered himself to the edge of the arena. He was the exact archetype of a perfect Warrior; possessing the strength necessary to win but the speed and agility to tactically choose engagements on an open battlefield. He was again forced into a disadvantage, his movements now restricted by the arena's boundaries and his body’s own limitations

The buzzing in Athena’s mind shifted, intensifying into a roar that had her rubbing her temples. The arena began to shake violently as she continued to pour energy into her dummies.

Percy needed to be faster, to learn more, grow more. He had to be perfect. 

Her eyes never left his form, now frantically moving against the onslaught of dummies pressing in around him. Her eye twitched again as she studied her obsession, her prodigy. 

She set the dummies to an inhuman pace, resolving to push him past his limits. After all, he would need to kill more than just men to be a perfect Warrior. Any sign of weakness or ineptitude would be his end, especially in the godly world. In her world. 

Sweat was pouring from him in earnest now, his eyes wide as he stumbled. His spear was held in a lock as the dummies started to push their swords on him, forcing him to brace against the arena boundary.

Satisfaction curled within Athena. She could sense his racing heart, his discomfort, the panic pooling in his mind. Now he could break. Now he could grow past whatever was blocking him. 

She bit back a groan at the unrelenting pounding in her head, blurring the edges of her vision with its intensity. Her head fell into her hands as she willed herself to regain her bearings, but she did not relent using the dummies as an extension of herself. She fed them her frustration, her irritation, all of it. 

She lifted her head, catching Percy’s panicked gaze as she did so. His brow furrowed as he took in her current state. In his moment of distraction, a loud snap echoed throughout her study as Percy’s spear broke in two. A violent sound escaped him as the nearest dummy slashed at his ribs, sending a spray of blood over the edge of the arena. 

“At ease,” Athena said harshly. She blinked rapidly, willing her vision to clear as she stood. With a wave of her hand, she quickly cleaned up his injuries. “You still have a lot to learn.”

“Gee, thanks,” Percy said, shooting her a look. “Don’t take out your issues on me, yeah?”

“If you’re going to complain, you’re welcome to leave,” Athena snapped. “Anything less than perfection on the battlefield will end in either your death or the deaths of your comrades.”

Percy inhaled sharply. His voice was level when he spoke, though only just. 

“I don’t know what more you want from me,” he growled. “I’m doing everything perfectly. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. And besides,” he threw the spear on the ground with disdain, ”you know I prefer swords anyway.”

“Well it must be something you’re doing. Or not doing.”

“I’ve told you before. I can’t explain it, but it’s the weapons! They’re off balance, and their energy is weird.”

Athena rose to her full size. She towered over the demigod who stood before her, chin raised defiantly. She opened her mouth, a retort on her tongue, but a sharp, rapt knock on her door cut her off before she could get a word out. Her skin prickled, pulsing with agitation. She sighed, rubbing her temples with the false hope that it could restore her tenuous control.

“Go clean up. You and I will continue this later,” she said stiffly. 

She turned, hiding her face from Percy’s inquisitive gaze until she heard footsteps fade then cease. The fury on his face would be enough to strike fear into any mortal. She sighed again. He was always his most combative on her worst days. She couldn't bring her hands to her temples without a quick glance from him, though he never pressed the issue. In a way, she felt pride for the inquisitive and observant nature of her protegee, but it added another layer of difficulty in maintaining the perfect, stoic demeanor she shrouded herself in.

She crossed her study, throwing the door open with a huff. “What do you want, Hermes? Don’t you have letters to deliver?” Hermes smirked at her.

“Glad to see you as always sis. You’re welcome, for covering you with Dad, by the way. How’s your little champion coming along?” Athena sighed loudly as she stepped back from the doorway. Hermes laughed as he entered her study.

“That bad eh?”

“He’s…serviceable,” Athena relented as they crossed the room to a pair of plush grey armchairs. “I just can’t figure out what’s wrong with him.”

Hermes settled into the chair, shooting her a glare that would’ve made a lesser goddess crumble. “There’s nothing wrong with him, sissy. Just because he isn’t one of yours doesn’t make him any less than.”

“You know what I mean,” Athena waved him off as she turned to retrieve a decanter of ambrosia, but Hermes refused to let her off that easily. “A drink?”

“Actually, I don’t,” he said, ignoring her offer. “Please, enlighten me, oh Wise One.”

“Go sit on your Caduceus,” Athena snarked, sitting in the chair opposite to his. When Hermes just raised an eyebrow, she sighed. They both knew that explaining how something worked was far too tantalizing a prospect for her to pass up on. Her hands fidgeted in her lap as she took a deep breath.

“It’s just…I can’t make him perfect, no matter what I do. His form is immaculate, he can perform every combination, every movement I ask of him…and yet, something is resisting. Something is not right. He claims it is the weapons, that none of them feel right.”

Hermes nodded attentively. “I have a son considered the best swordsman of the era, and even he had trouble finding a blade that suited him. Just because you have never struggled with a weapon does not mean that others have not.” He paused for a moment. “He’s not one of yours, correct?” 

Athena shook her head, jaw clenching. If he was, she might be able to fix him. She pushed past the throbbing in her head to consider Hermes’ point. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said finally, stubbornly setting her brow. “Percy needs to be perfect with all weapons. You never know what situation he might find himself in.”

Hermes sighed, head falling forward as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “The fact you haven’t given up on him yet tells me that you see all his potential. That means he’s at least progressing, even without a weapon made for him.”

Athena narrowed her eyes. “He isn’t one of yours, is he? You do…get around a lot, disgusting as you are.”

“You wound me,” Hermes mimed a knife sticking from his chest. “I can’t say I remember, but I doubt it. What do you know about his mother?”

“Not much,” Athena admitted, shaking her head. “The stubborn boy didn’t want to talk about it. All I know is that she was good with a knife and taught him adequately. At least for the capabilities of a mortal. She also died recently, though Percy was adamant that she died by mortal means, not mythical ones.” 

“A woman who’s good with a knife,” Hermes sighed wistfully. “Shame she died so young. I wonder if I’d ever met her.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Athena snarled. “Percy’s mother was clear-sighted, too.”

Hermes’s expression faltered. “Clear-sighted?” he asked. His blue eyes swirled with emotion as he lowered his voice in a rare show of humility. “Those women are scarce indeed. It is no wonder this boy has caught your eye. Tell me, what does he look like?”

“Why so interested?” Athena raised a brow. “Are you seriously telling me you can’t remember every single one of your children?” She scowled, memories of her perfect offspring coming to her mind. At the very least, they were as perfect as demigods could be. How could they not be? They had come from her.

“Don’t accuse me of such things,” Hermes warned. “You know how dad is. I can’t say it publicly, or he’ll punish me for having ‘too many.’ Not everyone gets to be the favorite.” His jaw clenched, his eyes raging with emotion. “Just…tell me what the boy looks like so I can rule out if he’s one of mine.”

Athena took a deep breath, willing her frustration down till it was barely a simmer. She didn’t need to fight Hermes. She had few allies amongst the gods, and with the impending Council Meeting, she needed all the friends she could get. 

Besides, if Zeus demanded he speak with her in private, and her mind was addled, she knew Hermes would stand up for her. 

“If you must know,” she began slowly. “Perseus is tan skinned, with dark hair, and sea glass eyes. Does that ring a bell to you?” 

Hermes sighed in relief, slumping back in his chair. “He’s not one of mine. I usually allow my mortal partners to choose a name on their own. Perseus didn’t ring a bell, but I wanted to be sure.” A slow, wicked grin crossed his face. “You called him ‘Percy’. That’s the first nickname I’ve heard for one of your little prodigies in a while.”

“It’s how he introduced himself to me. If that is how he wishes to be referred to, it would be rude to do otherwise,” Athena reasoned primly. “Besides, mortals give their children strange names often. How was I to know ‘ Percy’ was not just his legal name?”

“Perhaps ‘Ody’ was just a legal name too,” Hermes deadpanned. 

“Silence.” Athena seethed, bolting from her chair. “We agreed. We do not speak of it.” 

Hermes held his hands up in surrender, standing cautiously. 

“And you said you wouldn’t take another student.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I quite like this soft side of you, ‘Thena. It almost makes you likable.”

Athena flared, glittering, golden flames engulfing her. “If you call me ‘‘Thena’ again, I will personally escort you to Tartarus.”

“Whatever you say, ‘Thena,” Hermes chuckled, ducking to avoid Athena’s spear as he darted towards the door. “I can tell he’s a special one if he’s already won you over. Whenever you’re willing to share your protegee, make sure he gets to Camp safe. I’m sure the other Campers would be excited to meet him. My Luke especially.”

Startling music suddenly rang through the quiet space. Hermes grumbled, pulling his phone from his pocket. Athena didn’t even try to hide her snicker.

“What is that song?” 

He silenced it, shooting her a glare. “ Pink Pony Club is a wonderful song. You’re just jealous you don’t have a phone,” he sniffed, opening his screen. Athena snickered again, though it was cut off by the look on his face.

“What’s-” 

“If you truly care about your prodigy, I suggest you get a weapon for him. A perfect soldier can only do so much with an imperfect weapon.”

“You dare suggest–”

Hermes was in front of her in an instant, laughing in her face. Athena stepped back, startled, but he had moved away before the rage had even begun coursing through her. She clenched her jaw, seething at him once again.

“You’re always so predictable, sis,” he smirked. “Yes, the weapon is only as good as its wielder, blah blah blah. You are proficient in every weapon, yet you prefer your spear. Ares, thick-headed as he is, is a formidable rival with his claymore. It seems to me that Percy is already proficient. Your weapons are godly, but considering he’s not yours or mine, perhaps it would be better to forge his own weapon.”

Athena sighed, considering it.

“Hephaestus is always in town. Doesn’t he still owe you a favor?”

She rubbed her temples. 

“I’ll think about it,” she said after a moment. “He still has a lot of work to do, and I want him to improve on the weapons I do have. He still refuses to use a shield.” A fact that frustrated her to no end. “He cannot be contained no matter what I do. And the problem is, it works.”

“Well, if it works, why change it?” Hermes argued. “I’d think you, of all people, would know that.”

“Go deliver your letters,” Athena said, trying to inject some bite into her voice but mostly just sounding tired. “Lest Dad gets on you for slacking.”

Hermes shrugged, though he looked tense. “Well, I’d make your choice about getting Percy a weapon now . Dad is looking for you. If you're actually doing something important, it’s a good cover for ignoring him.” He shot her a wink before vanishing in a flash of gold.

Thunder rumbled outside, and Athena crossed to her window, watching as dark clouds began to gather overhead. Olympus had no rain, which meant only one thing.

Another twinge in her head quickened her decision-making process. Maybe Hermes was right. At the very least, she could cut her losses and have a lovely new weapon if it failed.

Her mind traveled back to the weapon Percy felt the most comfortable with. Her Xiphos collection was the one that drew the most attention, though he never wished to pair it with a shield. It was clear that he was not a stagnant fighter; fluid and always in motion, he was ready to strike with a wicked slash at any moment. 

Despite herself, a small smile crossed her lips. The boy was, in every sense of the word, Greek. His raw talent made it clear; his father was certainly not a lesser god. She thought through the older gods for a moment, an unwelcome thought interrupting her stream of consciousness. 

Go talk to him. Apologize.

She batted it away. He’d probably be fine. This wasn’t the first time they’d had a heated disagreement, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

She refocused, Percy’s face vivid in her mind, when another thought struck her, so horrid that she staggered back, physically recoiling from it. Percy’s wavy black hair and green eyes were a mirror image of another god, by far the worst of the Olympians. Seated directly beside her father, his arrogant, conceited nature was unmatched. Ruthless and cruel, he was never punished. He could simply retreat to the sea, hiding from every consequence.

The sea.

A pang of longing and guilt shot through her. She could never return to the sea.

Heat pressed against her eyes, unwanted emotion threatening to swallow her.

Stop it, she chided herself. She’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do to bring her back. 

Despite her best efforts, the memories came roaring back with a vengeance, shattering her carefully cultivated mental space. She fell to the floor, hands clamped tightly over her ears as if it could drown out the sound of Pallas’ brilliant laughter. She had not felt the same joy before nor since. Her jaw clenched so tightly she feared her teeth might break. She cursed the Fates; they had declared that Pallas was not to reach maturity. 

If only she could have taken her place.

Triton had never forgiven her for their sparring accident. But Pallas was the only one who could keep up with her in wit and in battle. Their sparring matches would draw the kingdom's royals. Whenever Triton felt public opinion was low, they would be permitted to fight in the Colosseum. He’d watch earnestly as his daughter would match Athena blow-for-blow, and the rush that accompanied their matches still left Athena wanting more. An itch that could never again be scratched. 

Athena winced as she felt herself splitting. The memories demanded acknowledgement. Begrudgingly, she let her control slip, falling back into her past.

____

“Come on,” Athena urged with a smile. “Nothing is going to happen. Besides, we’re almost done anyway.”

Pallas rolled her eyes, flipping her messy black braid over her shoulder. Athena caught a glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she spoke. “You’re so far behind that you could win every fight for the next six months and still not catch up, ‘Thena. But if you’re so eager to lose, I’ll happily oblige.”

“Don’t call me ‘Thena,” as the words passed her lips, she couldn’t help the tendril of warmth that flickered through her. She might have tried to be stern, but they both knew that Athena never minded Pallas’ teasing. And besides, she said the name with such familiarity, such WORD, she knew she’d never truly tell her to stop. 

“Whatever you say, ‘Thena,” Pallas said, sticking her tongue out. She nodded to the rack of weapons on the wall. “You ready to lose?”

A blush rose on Athena’s cheeks, but she composed herself. “You’re on. Same weapons as usual?” 

Pallas grinned as she summoned her trident. It was a glorious weapon, though Athena was warned to never touch it. It contained the essence of the sea, a necessity for any being from the depths. Pallas excelled with any weapon Athena could throw at her, but her movements were never as fluid as when she wielded her trident. It was given to her by her father, Triton, just a few short years ago, when he believed she was ready for it. Since that day, the score in their spars had become incredibly one-sided. 

Athena pulled her favored spear from the rack and turned back to her friend, settling into a stance on the floor of the underwater arena.

The water suddenly swirled around her, pushing her hair into her face. She spluttered for a moment, pushing it back only to find Pallas laughing, her slender hand raised as she directed the current. 

“Not fair,” Athena complained, smoothing her hair back into place. “We’re already underwater. This is a sparring match, not a fight to the death.”

Pallas smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Scared you’ll lose to me again? Don’t be afraid of your powers, ‘Thena.”

Athena gritted her teeth, then exhaled. She focused, willing her own power to the surface. She smiled to herself as the world slowed around her. Her control was not where it should be, and according to Triton and her father, nowhere near her full potential. But she was finally starting to get the hang of it.

Pallas had the power of the sea, but Athena’s mind could move at a breakneck speed, giving her precious extra time to strategize. She hadn’t yet learned how to make her body move at the same pace, but her movements were just precise enough for what she needed. 

Pallas grinned brilliantly as she willed her trident to glow. Its blue-green hue cast shadows in their little arena, glittering with the energy of the ocean. 

She lunged forward, Athena sidestepping just in time. Even with her Quick Thought, it was closer than she would have liked. Still, Pallas narrowed her eyes in surprise.

“You’re getting better,” she said, a slow smile crawling over her face as the two circled one another. 

“Of course I am,” Athena said haughtily. “I’m not some puny goddess. Out of the water, I’d kick your ass.”

Another quick movement had Athena’s spear locked against Pallas’ trident, her friend's face suddenly inches from her own.

Pallas smirked at her. “You wish, ‘Thena. You could never match me.”

Athena told herself that her racing heart was from the unexpected movement, not their proximity, as she pushed back, releasing herself and backing away. Pallas laughed brightly, and frustration swelled within her.

Pallas may have been her best friend, but she was not her equal. Athena willed herself to glow brighter, dragging additional power to the surface. Her golden glow meshed beautifully with the sea colors cast from the trident. It danced through the water together, rippling like the northern lights.

She cast the observation aside as she drew upon her frustration, forcing her body faster, demanding it keep pace with her mind.

Pallas took a step back, surprise washing over her pretty features as she parried Athena’s ever quickening strikes. She nearly looked worried, and Athena couldn’t help the sick sense of pride that welled within. She was proving herself to be a formidable opponent, and in the arena, there were no friends. 

She advanced again, moving so quickly it seemed that Pallas could barely keep up.

It is deserved, she thought as she dealt another blow. A bit of payback for all those…feelings she makes me feel when she’s too close. 

Athena pushed deeper, searching for that well of power she knew lay within her. She should be able to beat Pallas easily. 

In all her searching, she nearly missed it as her mind drifted from her body, dissociative. She frowned at the unfamiliar sensation, then gasped as the soft trickle of power became first a stream, then a tidal wave.

Energy coursed through her veins as her body acted on its own accord. The sensation of her mind splitting was uncomfortable, but didn’t shatter her in the way she had expected it would.

She recalled Triton telling her and Pallas once of the gods’ natures, and was told that she could learn to split her consciousness. Apparently, it was considered the final act of attaining godhood.

Their weapons clashed again, and Pallas smiled at Athena, raw admiration shining on her face. Their pace was brutal, too quick for conversation, but her bright smile told her all she needed to know. Athena gave her a smile of her own, albeit an awkward one, hoping it conveyed all she could not say.

She willed her second mind into existence, allowing multiple streams of consciousness to flow as her physical body continued to spar. She could see the entire battlefield, not an obstruction before her. She continued to will it, letting the roar of power flow. For a moment she thought the roaring might actually be in her head, an ache beginning to bloom, but she pushed it away, instead using it as fuel. This was it. Her ascension. She would do whatever she needed to push past this final barrier. 

A sudden thought broke through her exhilaration, nearly halting her in her tracks. Pallas had yet to emerge as a fully-fledged goddess, and if Athena ascended now, it would be time to leave. Zeus would require her as his chief advisor and heir. Her father and uncle had a strained relationship at the best of times, and she doubted very much that Poseidon would let her come to see Pallas, even just occasionally. 

Pressure built behind her eyes, and she recoiled, willing herself further and further from her physical body. It couldn’t hurt if she wasn’t there to feel it. The goodbye wouldn’t have to be as painful.

She watched from afar as she began to overpower Pallas, the raw power fueling her movements to perfection. She was on the precipice of everything she had ever trained for, but her heart felt heavy no matter how far she tried to withdraw from her body. Was immortality worth this kind of sacrifice?

The logical part of herself took over, derailing that train of thought. Grieving was a future concern. There was a match to win now, and she would not waste a second spent with her closest friend worrying about things she couldn’t change. 

The pounding in her head had worsened. She obliged, allowing her consciousness to merge with her main body once again. Melting back into herself, she flexed her fingers around her spear. Her favorite spear. 

Its energy suddenly shifted, calling her, mirroring her own. It clicked, shifting and moving until the spear head was larger, sharper. 

Her gaze jerked up to Pallas, excited, but her friend wasn’t smiling at her. She was looking over Athena's shoulder, eyes wide in alarm. 

Athena spun to find Triton crossing the entrance to the arena, fury and disapproval on his face. They weren't meant to be sparring, least of all alone, and now they were in for a good lecture. 

A thought came to her. She was a fully ascended goddess now. There was nothing Triton could do to lecture her. She laughed as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She wanted to win this sparring match first; she’d deal with Triton after. 

She spun back to her friend, mind and body out of sync, stumbling along as it learned to adapt to her new found power. She thrust out her spear, fully expecting Pallas to block her with her own weapon.

Time slowed to a crawl. In horror, Athena watched Pallas bow to her father, her face full of shame. The tip of her spear connected with Pallas’ chest, tearing through skin and bone in an instant. The sound of her body tearing apart filled Athena’s ears, and she froze. 

Her spear began to vibrate, and panic welled up in her throat. Triton was beside her in an instant, glaring viciously. Ichor roared in her ears, overwhelming her as divine energy flowed unencumbered through her spear. Triton's hands covered hers, trying to pull her back, to calm the rampant energy, but it was no use. The world was spinning, snarling around her. All she could see was Pallas’ face.

“Athena!” he yelled. “Compose yourself.”

“I’m trying,” Athena cried, closing her eyes as tears blinded her. ‘I-I don’t know what happened! What’s going on?”

“This is why I told you not to spar without me!” Triton growled. “You’re a goddess now, independent from everyone else. The first time…it’s hard to control, but you must. Pallas will die if you don’t!”

Pallas. Athena opened her eyes, tears marring her vision as she found her friend’s face. Her bright blue eyes were wide, with pain or terror, she wasn't sure. Pallas’s mouth was parted, chest heaving like she was struggling for breath. Her hair whipped around her, Athena’s power causing the water to swirl violently around them. 

She closed her eyes again. 

Her head pounded in time with her racing heart, the roaring water drowning her thoughts. She searched for her well of divinity and found it overflowing, rushing from it. She reached out to slow the spigot, but she wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t perfectly in control enough. Her spear was a conduit, energy flowing from her as a testimony to her divine title, and it was her greatest curse.

Someone was screaming. It took her a moment to realize that the violent sound was coming from her body. Triton was yelling something, but the words were lost in her ears as her skin ripped beneath the strain, overflowing with the power of a newly realized goddess. Her mind ripped, indecipherable nothing between the two spaces. 

A charred, burnt smell brushed past on the current, and her stomach churned. She forced her eyes open in time to see a bit of blue light being sucked into her spear.

Pallas.

Rage and frustration ebbed, replaced with empty exhaustion as she slumped to the sea floor. She looked at her trembling hands, slowly healing from the influx of power that had torn through them moments ago, and clutched them to her chest. Her eyes remained glued to the floor as an empty, insatiable ache. Triton’s panicked voice was little more than a muffled cry in the background, little more than an uncomfortable buzz in the tides of grief.

Gone. Her closest friend, her other half, was no longer there.

Suddenly she was drifting, her mind pulling away from her body. The last thing she saw was her spear, now embedded in the sea floor, surrounded by a scorched, golden ring. Her greatest fear gripped her tight; her most beloved friend was gone by her hand. Hot tears fell from her eyes, instantly swallowed by the sea as it pried her grief from her soul. Memories swam in her mind as she closed her eyes. None of it mattered now.

Pallas.