Chapter Text
Chapter 1: I Get a Makeover I Never Asked For
The floor of the Olympian Throne Room was really white. Like, blindingly white. Or maybe that was just the blood loss talking.
I leaned into Annabeth, my shoulder pressing against hers. She was the only thing keeping me from becoming a permanent part of the masonry. My lungs felt like I’d swallowed a bag of dry concrete, and every time I breathed, I could smell the ozone of Zeus’s lightning and the metallic tang of Gaea’s dirt.
I just wanted to go home. I wanted a blue cookie, a long nap, and maybe a week where nobody tried to impale me with a spear.
"Perseus Jackson," a voice intoned.
It didn't come from the gods. It came from the floor, the walls, and the inside of my own ribcage. The three Fates appeared in a swirl of shimmering mist. They didn't look like the old ladies at the fruit stand anymore. They looked like cosmic weavers, and I was the loose thread they were about to snip.
"You have carried the world," Clotho whispered. She looked at me with something that was way too close to pity. "And the world is too heavy for a heart that beats only eighty years."
"I’m fine," I rasped. My voice sounded like a garbage disposal full of gravel. "Really. Just… give me a five minute nap. I’ll be good."
"You are a bone deep kind of tired, little hero," Lachesis said. She stepped closer, and I smelled something like ancient cedar and salt. "The kind that sleep cannot fix. The kind that turns into a bitterness that births monsters."
I tried to pull back, but my legs wouldn't work. Behind me, I heard Jason let out a shaky breath. Leo, who was usually cracking a joke about how hot he looked in battle grime, was deathly silent.
Then the Fates reached out.
Usually, when a god touches you, it feels like an electric shock. This felt like it was unraveled.
I tried to scream, but the sound didn't come out as a noise. It came out as light. Pure, sea glass blue light.
I looked down at my hands. The tan I’d worked so hard for was fading, replaced by a soft, moonlit glow. The scars, the one from the Styx, the jagged marks from the Labyrinth, even the little nick on my finger from a sword sharpening accident were just… disappearing. It was like someone was using a giant Eraser of Destiny on my skin.
"Percy!" Annabeth’s voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.
She reached for me, but as soon as her fingers brushed my arm, she yelped and pulled back. To her, I probably felt like a block of dry ice. To me, it felt like the ocean was rushing into my veins, replacing my blood with something cold, golden, and terrifyingly powerful.
My vision shifted. The throne room didn't look like a room anymore; it looked like a collection of souls.
I saw Piper drop to her knees. She was trying to say something. I could see her lips moving, trying to use that charmspeak to stop the Fates but the air around me was so still, so silent, that her words just fell flat on the floor like dead birds.
Leo was staring at me like I was a piece of machinery that had just been over clocked until it broke. His hands were shaking. For once, he didn't have a tool or a joke to fix the situation. He looked like he wanted to cry, but he was too busy being terrified of the thing I was becoming.
In the shadows, Thalia and the Hunters were frozen. Thalia’s knuckles were white as she gripped her bow. She’d always been my "big sister" in the way that involved a lot of electricity and arguing, but now, she looked at me with a weird kind of reverence that made my stomach churn. She saw the "purity" hitting me the same "don't touch me" aura the Hunters have, but dialed up to eleven.
Then I looked at the gods. And that was the weirdest part.
Athena wasn't looking at me like I was a "sea spawn" nuisance. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. Her eyes were watery, and she was clutching the arms of her throne so hard the marble was cracking. She looked at me and whispered the name Pallas and I realized she wasn't seeing me at all. She was seeing her own regrets.
Apollo was even worse. He looked like he wanted to jump off his throne and wrap me in a bubble wrap suit. He saw me as something fragile, something beautiful that he’d already lost once before.
"The prophecy is sealed," the Fates announced, their voices merging into one terrifying chord. "Perseus is the God of the Fallen. The Mercy of the Sea. The Hope of the Stars."
Atropos stepped forward, her shears gleaming. "But a Sanctuary must remain open to all. Like Hestia, he shall remain pure. No touch of romance shall stir his heart. He belongs to the world now, not to a girl."
"No!" Annabeth screamed. She tried to plunge through the blue light surrounding me. "You can't have him! Percy, tell them!"
I tried to move toward her. I really did. But my body felt vast. I felt like I was the tide, and the tide doesn't have arms to hug people. I looked at my hands again and they were perfect. Smooth. No callouses. No history.
"Annabeth?" I whispered. My voice didn't sound like me. It sounded like a thousand waves hitting a beach at the same time. It was a musical. It was haunting. It was... pretty. And I hated it.
I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. I wiped it away, but it wasn't salty water. It was glowing, golden ichor.
The weight of the stars started pressing down on my brain. The prayers I could hear. Thousands of them. Please save me. Please remember me. Please don't let me be forgotten. It was too much.
My knees buckled. I didn't hit the floor, though.
A pair of massive, warm arms caught me. I smelled salt, storm winds, and a father’s desperation.
"I've got you," Poseidon rumbled. He didn't sound like a king. He sounded like a dad whose kid had just been hit by a car. He pulled me against his chest, shielding me from the staring eyes of the other gods.
"The ceremony is over," my dad said, his voice shaking the entire mountain of Olympus. "He is new. He is hurt. He's coming with me."
"Don't let me go," I whimpered, clutching his divine Hawaiian shirt like a lifeline.
"Never," he promised.
The last thing I saw before the sea mist swallowed us was Annabeth, standing all alone in the middle of that big, white room, looking at the empty space where her best friend used to be.