Chapter Text
"And so my traitorous children, my last words to thee is this: your wombs shall be barren, your cradles will forever be empty. Demigod children will never walk this earth. This is the price you pay for your arrogance."
Time reaches a hand upwards, towards the sky, as if invoking something ancient. He shuts his eyes.
"Let the words I speak be so."
— The Crooked One
—
Will woke up with a start.
He tried to get up, but there was something restraining him to—a wall?! And that something was…weirdly…slimy. Will gagged. Thick black vines covered in a mucus like substance was wrapped around his chest. He was never bothered by bodily fluids, you kinda got used to things like blood and mucus being a healer, but this substance was thick and black, big chunks of…something, sticking to the vines and sliding down onto his chest. Gross.
Concentrating deeply, he focused on the light he could see. Most places were never completely dark, and being a child of Apollo, Mr. Sunshine himself, Will could exploit this fact. He drew the light closer to him, letting the particles stick to his skin, accumulating until he was glowing. Bright enough to see his surroundings—He nearly blew chunks there and then.
The vines were not only wrapped around him, but literally everything else. They spread over the floor and ceiling, forming a long tunnel. Some of the black stuff had dripped onto his hair.
"Calm down." He reminded himself. "You were able to handle it when a camper vomited onto your shoes and when one of the Hermes cabin kids managed to get themselves impaled and was leaking blood onto the infirmary floor, you fought in two wars." Will sucked in a breath. "You can do this."
He shifted the light and concentrated it down to his hands—which were restrained by the vines—Will sucked in a breath as he felt the heat beginning to grow stronger. He had no clue if this was going to work, but it was better then nothing. The vines began to burn, and eventually, with much squirming and struggling, he ripped them off of his chest and tumbled to the ground. Will's palms were singed, but he'd rather have burned palms then be dead.
Will spread the light back across his body, surveying his surroundings. Now that he was no longer dangling four feet off of the ground, he could see more.
12 cocoons, all wrapped up in the same way Will was, were stuck to the wall, pulsating lightly. Will didn't know what was in there, and he sure didn't want to stick around long enough to find out.
He had to make it back to camp soon. Gods knows how long they would last without him. Hopefully Chiron could make sure no one got impaled or had their limbs chopped off. Will wasn't sure any of the other cabins had skilled enough healers to handle things like that.
Sucking in a breath. Will tentatively walked forwards through the tunnel. He just needed to focus on getting out of here.
He trudged forward, sneakers slap slap slapping against the ground. Will had no medical equipment with him, so in case of an emergency it was probably better to run then to fight. Not that it would be easy, considering just how sticky the ground was.
Since he couldn't really see the end of the tunnel, Will had been expecting to have to wander for a very long time before finding anything helpful—or finding anything at all. But more light started to filter through, and eventually he dropped the glow from his skin.
Suddenly, Will saw the exit of the tunnel. Bright, white, light emanating from it. He took a step out and…
Flopped onto the ground.
Will watched, bewildered as the earth in front of him stitched itself back together. Stone grinding against itself as the road sealed up.
He felt this odd feeling of dread. For Demigods, things were never this easy. With every quest, every war, every battle. There was one thing guaranteed. Bloodshed.
Will had expected a fight. A challenge, some kind of puzzle or request. Not being poured out onto the road by a underground a weird vine-creature.
No. There was something bigger here. Something bad was going to happen.
Will lifted his gaze from the ground. His breath caught.
Surrounding him on all sides were the tell-tale billboards of Time's Square, bright flashing screens advertising various products. Street vendors selling all kinds of food from almost every culture. Rickshaws peddled people down the busy roads.
Cars and cabs inched down the street, as street performers and photographers weaved through the crowd. It was the same New York Will had visited time and time again. The one he had bled, laughed, and breathed in.
And yet…it was not.
An athlete moved through various poses on one of the screens, a laurel wreath resting in his hair. Advertising…the Olympics? Except the Olympics normally didn't include chariot riding or javelin throwing, or involve lifelike statues of Zeus.
It wasn't just the billboards. It was the newspapers too. Theology: The Best Offerings for the Ἀπολωλότες Ἀστέρες Festival; In This Time of Giving How Can We Best Express Xenia?; The Unvalued Virtue: Organikotis.
Some street performers were singing in Ancient Greek Hymns , priests dressed in chitons preaching in the streets, the rickshaws, cars, cabs stamped with Hermes' symbol, churches turned to temples, a photo of the Met in all its glory, a gold sigil of his father sun shining on it's roof, spinning, the world was spinning.
Will felt nauseous. It was so wrong and yet so right. Whispered voices echoing in his head yelling you shouldn't be here/you are exactly where you belong.
Somehow, he had been transported into another world, one where, for whatever reason, the Greek Gods had persisted into modern day. Which means that demigods must have too, right? This realms Chiron would sympathize with him, and then they could ask for help.
He had never put much faith in his father. Especially not a version of him that was far more powerful then the Apollo Will was familiar with. But maybe, maybe if he could appeal to the Gods better graces, they would help him get home.
Decided, he hailed a cab.
"3141 Farm Road, Long Island." He said.
The cab driver frowned, eyes raking over Will's still slimy form. "Sorry kid." He said. "Too far of a—
"I'll pay extra." Will interrupted, he fished a bag of gold drachmas from his backpack pocket, he watched as the drivers mouth practically watered at the sight of it. So many things were different here, even currency. "Any amount you want."
The cab driver looked to his left and then to his right, his voice dropped to a whisper "You know, you really shouldn't be out by yourself. Especially on Ἀπολωλότες Ἀστέρες Night, the gods don't like it."
"I—I'm visiting family." Will murmured, technically not a lie. "I'll be inside by nightfall, I swear."
"I—swear to the gods—you know what, fine kid." The man rubbed his temples. "I'm taking half the bag though."
"Deal." Will said. They shook on it.
—
When Will got to camp. It felt like coming to a funeral.
The trees were all leafless, their trunks bent and gnarled, like they had the life sucked out of them. Same thing with all the nearby vegetation. The sun seemed to disappear as soon as they passed by the sign reading Farm Road. Mist covered the road in front of them.
It was like the very earth was a reflection of sorrow. This pain, this grief, that permeated every breath Will took was so suffocating, he had to remind himself to breathe in the cab.
Luckily enough, the driver wasn't having the same reaction. He was humming a little tune, seemingly oblivious to Will's plight and their haunted surroundings. Most likely because of the mist.
Glad you're enjoying yourself. Will thought as the car lurched to a stop. He struggled to take a breath. Because I am certainly not.
"Welp, here's your spot kid."
"Thanks." Will muttered, getting out of the cab.
"You sure your family is out here?" The driver shouted out the window. "I don't see any houses around here…"
"It's just a little ways down!" Will shouted back as he sprinted down the way.
He heard the car pull away and trudged forward.
The air just got more and more heavy as he walked. Will could hardly breathe, stumbling his way up to the boundary he had crossed so many times. You have to make it through. He told himself. For the others, and for your siblings.
Why in the world was this Camp so heavily guarded? Surely the gods wouldn't give two shits about whether their kids were safe or not. Especially if they had accumulated enough followers that their influence spread to the U.S. The power heights they had reached were likely unfathomable.
Will tried to imagine a world in which the gods acted like normal parents, and despite the lack of oxygen in his system he still laughed. Apollo was among the better parents at camp, and even then, he was…well C+ at best.
Finally, he made it through the fog. He expected to see the familiar rows of cabins, campers milling about, Chiron sitting on the front porch of the big house, overlooking the view.
But instead all he found were gravestones.
Here lies Hebe.
Here lies Iris.
Here lies Persephone.
Here lies Boreas
Zephyrus
The Muses
The Charities, The Graces, The Horae, Hecate.
Flowers were lain on each and every grave, baby blankets, old wooden toys lain lovingly onto the headstone. But beyond the shrines to the godly children…
Were rows and rows of headstones. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands of them. Not gods this time—demigods. Each grave was as lovingly cared for as the the godly ones, but some of the death dates spanned back centuries.
"What the—
Will clamped a hand over his mouth. The driver was right, he shouldn't be here.
He needed to leave. Now.
Will scrambled towards the exit. He couldn't waste time, the Gods would surely notice an outsider stepping into their children's graveyard.
"Going somewhere precious?" A voice whispered in his ear. Strong arms pressed Will's back to their chest. The voice cooed softly as they readjusted their grip into a cradle.
"Fear not little one, Father is here now."