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“Father, what are you doing there?” echoed a voice through the room.
Percy turned around, looking incredulously at the person who dared to interrupt their duel.
There, in the middle of the destroyed and dusty Olympian throne room, stood a young teen. He wore clean clothes; no sweat or blood dirtied his skin. His black hair moved in a breeze—a breeze coming from a hole. A hole in the floor directly beside him. On three sides.
The teen didn’t seem bothered by the howling winds trying to push him into a deadly fall.
But the most concerning detail was the crown. A crown made of an aurora with little stars floating around it. Even from a distance, the crown emitted raw power. That was a godly weapon if he ever saw one.
Beside him, Annabeth threw the newcomer a frown too, probably racking her brain over which god was brave enough to invade the seat of power of Olympus and also talk rudely to the King of Titans. But the most confusing part was Luke—the possessed boy looked sheepish, rubbing his arm in an embarrassed gesture.
Wait. What had that god called Kronos?
“Father… are you overshadowing that mortal?” The teen’s furrowed eyebrows seemed to judge more than words ever could. Luke seemed to feel that too, if the many drops of sweat were any indication.
“Who? Me? No, that’s my immortal body! How could you think that? Haha.”
Percy threw him a bewildered look. Was that really the King of Titans, threat to Olympus? Luke looked right now like a child who had been caught with his hand in a honey pot.
“My lord, Kronos is at the moment inhabiting the body of our friend Luke,” Annabeth said, having composed herself and taken the chance to take advantage of the situation.
“Ah, I see.” The teen narrowed his eyes. “You’re not only overshadowing despite knowing how much I hate that, but also lying to my face.”
“But I don’t have enough energy at the moment; I can’t hold my form on my own!” Kronos whined—and that was something Percy never thought he’d ever see.
The other god groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “You know, you could’ve just asked me? I would have stabilized your form.”
Percy’s stomach churned. That was going in a direction he didn’t like.
“Oh well, past is the past. What do you need to get yourself together?”
Kronos seemed visibly relieved. “If you help me to devour the thrones right there, I should be able to leave this mortal body behind.”
“Right, right, then hurry up and—”
“Wait!” Percy intercepted. He couldn’t allow Kronos to do that. “Those are the thrones of our parents! We can’t let him through!”
The god now seemed very annoyed. Kronos, still in Luke’s body, threw a venomous glare at Percy’s head. Percy threw one right back.
“Again, Father? Can’t you think of another plan? That’s so boring. Leave your children in peace.”
Kronos—honest to the gods—stomped his foot on the ground. “That’s not fair! They took my power away first!”
“Argh, I hope you’re happy. I had plans this weekend.” The god summoned a simple wooden chair and slumped into it. “Call your children, and we’ll talk this out.”
“My Lord,” Annabeth interrupted, seemingly getting her thoughts in order again, “our parents are currently blocked by other threats. They can’t leave.”
“Of course they are.” He facepalmed before waving his hand. “The monster should be banished back to Tartarus now—they’ll be here any minute.”
On one of the screens Kronos had previously summoned, they saw Typhon suddenly surrounded by green glowing chains, which towed him into a similarly green crack in the ground. The gods seemed puzzled before moving out of vision at high speed.
“While we wait, exit the boy. I will sustain you,” the god said, leaving no room for argument.
Luke’s golden eyes bled tears of ichor before turning blue once again. The demigod fell, panting, to his knees. The ichor gathered itself into one ball before expanding into a semi-transparent figure.
A man in his mid-forties, wearing a black tunic and holding Kronos’s scythe in his hand. His form had a golden shimmer and green glowing cracks that opened randomly on his body before closing again. The strangest part was his movement—sometimes he seemed to move in slow motion, and sometimes it accelerated until he looked like a blur.
While Annabeth and Grover rushed to an unconscious Luke, Percy moved between them and the Titan and god, his sword still ready to strike.
The god glared burning holes into Kronos, who seemed quite interested in looking at the architecture of the throne room.
A tense minute later, the gods arrived. Before anyone could speak, Zeus threw his bolt at Kronos’s figure, the rest of the Olympians following. All attacks were absorbed by a green barrier of light.
“ENOUGH!”
A shockwave rolled over them, and Percy felt his godly side start to drain out of him. Connections he hadn’t known existed ruptured—his link to his father, to the sea… he couldn’t even feel the North Star anymore, not that he’d been aware of it before.
Around him, the Olympians fell to the ground. Helpless cries echoed through the air.
Suddenly, Percy felt his powers return. He almost sobbed when he felt whole again—it felt better than the first time he went underwater.
“Now, is everybody calm enough to negotiate, or do I need to discipline you some more?” the unknown god declared from his chair, looking utterly bored. Kronos floated beside him.
The Olympians picked themselves up, forming a semicircle around Kronos and the god. Weapons ready—but too afraid to attack.
“Who are you to stand beside Kronos?” Zeus broke the tense silence.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here to ensure that the negotiations between gods and Titans don’t escalate.” He folded his hands and looked at the ceiling.
“And you think you can stop us from taking revenge on Kronos?” Percy cursed Zeus’s narrow-mindedness. Had he already forgotten the shockwave?
Luckily, Hades interrupted before the situation escalated. “You’re a death god, aren’t you? But I can’t find your domain in my realm.”
That seemed to interest the strange god, who for the first time paid full attention. “You are strong in contact with your domain if you can assess me—but not strong enough to… Ah, to answer your question, I hold domain over dead immortals. Nothing one of you should show interest in—at least for now. I was very surprised when I felt a sudden influx of faded ones.” He turned his head to Kronos, who looked away. “And I was more surprised when I found Father reformed again.” He sighed. “You could’ve at least told me; I would have helped you.” He stroked Kronos’s shoulder with one hand.
“Father?” Athena almost choked on the word—and she wasn’t the only one. Percy almost sniggered, having had the same terror minutes ago.
“Oh, a new brother?” Hestia seemed almost delighted, not caring for the atmosphere.
The unknown god smiled sadly before shaking his head. “Unfortunately, only in this form am I his son. My Greek form has another family tie toward you all.”
Percy looked in confusion as the Olympians nodded knowingly. What did he mean by that? Thankfully, Annabeth seemed to have the same question.
“Excuse me, but what do you mean, ‘Greek form’? How can you be his son and not his son at the same time?”
The gods around them stiffened, glancing at each other. Nobody seemed eager to speak first.
Demeter showed mercy by answering. “As we wander the world, our tales change. If they change strongly enough, we build new forms. In some of them, we have different relationships to each other. In one of my oldest forms, I’m married to Poseidon and rule over the gods, for example.”
The answer brought Percy some satisfaction. Annabeth, on the other hand, sank into deep thought.
Percy perked up as she came to a conclusion. “Wait—you said you have a Greek form. Then why aren’t you in it?”
He flinched when Kronos twisted on his spot, looking at him with manic eyes. “Perseus Jackson, are you suicidal or just plain dumb, you imbecile?”
Thump. The god hit Kronos over the back of the head. Percy’s jaw dropped, and from the look of it, everyone else’s did too.
“Don’t talk to your grandchild like that. Do I have to set Aunt P on you?” he chided Kronos.
Percy still felt like he was in a parallel dimension. One second he’d been battling Kronos in Luke’s body, feeling the weight of prophecy on his shoulders—and now he saw Kronos, King of Titans, Devourer of Gods, getting scolded like a child by an unknown god who was somehow his son—and wasn’t. The worst part was that everyone else was just as confused as he was.
Finally finished, the god directed his attention back to the Olympians, who were all still brandishing their weapons. Kronos had his arms crossed and looked down at his feet, pouting.
“Anyway. Negotiations. I’ll make it quick. The Titans will be freed from their prison—no retaliation for the war—and you guys will hear the minor gods and demigods out on why they decided to act against you.” Percy only noticed in passing Kronos’s smug expression. These conditions didn’t sound that bad. Depending on what they offered, he could imagine supporting that.
The Olympians didn’t seem to agree.
“That is unacceptable. Kronos and his brothers will go back where they fled from! You may hold us at bay now, but how long can you stand alone against the full council?” Zeus thundered loudly. His eyes blazed.
Why is he so stubborn? Percy wanted to scream. And from his periphery, he could see that Luke, Grover, and Annabeth all seemed to think the same thing—if their eyerolls (and Grover’s habit of chewing his dagger) were any indication.
“Big words, oh King of Gods—especially from you. You should fear me, you know.” The god strolled toward Zeus until they stood toe-to-toe. Despite being human-sized compared to the five-meter-tall Zeus, the god oozed power and confidence.
“All your main domains can be taken away. Sky, storm, and lightning are bound to me and only borrowed by you. King of the Pantheon, on the other hand—it can be taken by Father as well as by me. So don’t challenge me.”
Percy saw Artemis flinch at those words. The proud goddess blanched, stepping away from the unknown god.
He looked more closely at her. Her hands were shaking, her fingers curled around her bow, knuckles white—holding it alternately protectively before her or hiding it behind her back.
Apollo, noticing his sister’s distress, flashed beside her. He went pale when Artemis whispered something in his ear.
What was that? Did they find out who that god was?
Zeus and the god were still locked in a staring contest. Zeus was sweating, his entire form flickering like a lamp in the wind.
Finally, Hera stepped forward. “Enough! Zeus, this fight is not in your favor.” She turned her calculating gaze to the god. “But you must also understand that we can’t accept such a one-sided capitulation.”
The god slapped his forehead, every trace of tension gone.
“My bad, my bad,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. Kronos and his side will, of course, agree to cease their aggression. They won’t try to take control of the pantheon.”
Percy couldn’t believe it. That was such a good deal! If they could have that without further fighting—
“No! You can’t do that! That’s my throne! I deserve to be king!” Kronos’s figure grew threateningly, his golden spirit body almost solidifying, the green cracks splitting painfully open. “I sacrificed so much for it—you can’t take my rightful place from me!”
“Your rightful place? Do you want to go that route with me?” The god’s voice was quiet, but his aura stormed through the room. Its pressure pushed down on Percy—he choked. It was the same feeling he’d had when he carried the sky.
Kronos shrank, moving backward, his face twisting in fear.
“I haven’t stayed away from this pantheon and denied myself a part of me just for you to brawl in and destroy everything. If you really insist on repeating history, then we could do it—starting from the beginning.”
“I’ve taken you down before. She will help me again! You can’t go against us both!”
“You really think you’re in Gaia’s good books? She’s one of the few I’m still in contact with, and trust me—she’s not happy.”
Something clicked inside Percy. The constant references, the enormous power, the crown, the mention of Gaia, his connection to Kronos…
“You’re Ouranus.”
The world halted.
The god—no, the primordial—shuddered, and his entire form flickered between his previous look and a stranger one.
A black void instead of skin, freckles like stars racing over his face. His eyes were two galaxies. Instead of clothes, he wore flowing nebulae.
“Careful,” the dying sound of stars rumbled. “Names have power.”
The primordial reverted to his human form. Percy looked around the throne room—the gods were scattered. Some were even cowering. The only ones still standing firm were Hades and, surprisingly, Aphrodite.
Kronos was kneeling on the floor, his hands gripping his scythe so tightly his knuckles were white.
“So,” the primordial chirped, “is anybody against my demands?”
Percy wasn’t surprised when everyone jumped to agree.
He watched as the primordial ripped a rift into the fabric of space, throwing Kronos through with the promise of a new body.
As the primordial moved to leave, he paused, then walked toward Percy. Percy stumbled back until his shoulders hit a piece of debris. Poseidon cried out and tried to run to him.
The primordial just picked a strand of wool from behind Percy’s ear, untangled a knot in it, winked, and stepped through the rift.
Percy was swept up into Poseidon’s arms, the god sobbing into his hair.
Sometimes, Percy really wished he’d been born into a normal family.