Chapter Text
Percy
Olympus was burning.
That was the first thing I noticed when the last of Kronos’s storm clouds above the throne room bled gold light onto the marble floors. The war had fought its way up to the six-hundredth floor of the Empire State Building. The air tasted like ozone, smoke, and something older, like time itself had cracked open.
I crouched next to Luke, and Annabeth cradled him in her arms as his life slowly dwindled. I couldn’t help but think about all the lives we had lost to this prophecy. Charles Beckendorf, Selina Beauregard, Michael Yew, Ethan Nakamura, and so many more. All names of children of the gods who were used as playthings, warriors to do the god’s bidding.
“Percy,” Luke spoke, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Percy, you listen to me carefully. If any of my lessons or speeches ever meant anything to you in any way, this is the most important. We both know the god’s mentality of eat or be eaten all too well. Power and glory are the only things that matter to them. Ares is that way. Zeus is that way. My father is that way.” He paused. “I was that way. You’re not Percy. You’re better than that, than me, than the gods. Promise me that whatever happens, you will never allow anything like this to happen again, whether it's someone else or even yourself. Don’t be like me, or the gods. Percy, you are going to be the one who changes this world. Do what I couldn’t.”
I could practically see how hard he was holding on. To spend the last few moments of his life doing something good, passing on information to make sure something like that would never happen again. Annabeth was in tears, mourning the soon-to-be loss of her childhood friend, her brother.
“Hey,” Luke spoke again after a long moment. “You think I could be granted rebirth?”
“I’d hope you are at least able to go to Elysium,” Annabeth replied. I could tell she wanted to be optimistic and hope for the best. Nobody spoke about the other option he had. Who knows, maybe Hades will show him mercy from his possible fate in Asphodel.
That thought of death, that sudden fear, made a cold shiver run up my spine, making me sit straighter. I’ve only felt that way a handful of times, in most cases when Death Breath uses his shadow travel and randomly spawns behind us. I turn around to be met with Nico right behind me and the Olympians somewhere in the distance.
“Hey Percy,” Luke drew my attention again. “Take care of the campers—especially this one right here,” he said, pointing a finger at Annabeth. “Annie, it’s gonna be okay. You and Thalia will always be my family. Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don’t let it… Don’t let it happen again.”
We sat there in silence as Luke went limp in Annabeth’s arms, finally letting himself pass on to whatever afterlife awaited him. Hermes was the first to move. I never understood the gods or why they did things, now more than ever. I mean, Hermes was here all this time, but waited until his son had already passed before doing anything.
Nico rested his hand on my shoulder as a gesture of comfort.
“Is everyone okay?” I ask.
“Everyone remaining is fine. Clarrise is taking charge of the cleanup and getting everyone we put in shelters out.” He paused for a second too long. “Percy, there’s something you should know. Kronos, he-he sent hounds.”
“Okay? To where? Did you guys get people down there? Is anyone hurt?” That last question actually made him wince. “Nico. Where was it and who was hurt?”
“The library down in Harlem. Percy-”
“Mom.”
Sally
I never believed that safety was guaranteed. Even before I knew of the gods and monsters. I understood danger in the way some people understood weather. Inevitable, unpredictable, and survivable if you prepared and prayed.
As the war was fought, we found some mortals who didn’t fall victim to Morpheus’s spell, confused and scared. The Athena cabin decided that it was getting too rough for the younger demigods and the mortals who were stuck witnessing children fighting for their lives. They evacuated people and split them up wherever they could find.
Paul and I were sent to a library down in Harlem. It was quieter than I thought. Too quiet. Being quiet was never a good thing, especially in the godly world. Before I could let my thoughts wander, I felt Paul squeeze my hand.
The library basement was simple, old, and had that thick scent of paper. Concrete walls. Emergency lights. A handful of mortals huddled together, listening to the muffled sounds of battle.
“Percy’s going to be okay,” Paul said, over and over again. He was pale, and I could see him trying to be brave in an almost endearing way.
I smiled because that’s what mothers do when they’re terrified. We smile and try to pretend that everything is fine. That at any second, my son is going to be right in front of me, telling us how the war has been won.
“I know,” I responded. And I meant it. My son was a survivor. He’s always found a way to get back home to me before. Why would that change now?
The lights started to flicker. Then slowly, the shadows started to move. I noticed it before anyone else. Maybe it was because I spent years pretending not to see the things that lurked just beyond the edge of normal. Maybe it was because being the mother of a demigod trained your instincts, whether you wanted them to sharpen or not.
The darkness that painted the walls thickened. A low growl echoed through the room. Someone screamed. Paul was on his feet in an instant, shoving himself in front of me without hesitation. “Stay behind me,” he whispered, voice shaky, but determined. The lights flickered once more, then the emergency lights went out completely.
The monsters didn’t roar. They didn’t charge in a frenzy. They slipped into the room like oil in water. Hellhounds. Two of them at first, then more, red eyes glowing like dying embers. Scavengers, I thought. The kind that waited until heroes were busy saving the world.
I didn't think about how unfair it was. I thought about Percy. I thought about how my sweet little boy was trying so hard to get back to me. I thought about how I needed to do the same.
“Everyone, stay calm!” I shouted, even as panic surged through the crowd. “Get back, stay together!” Paul grabbed a metal chair and held it up as a weapon. “You want to run? Try and get the weapons on the other side of the room?” he muttered to me. “On my mark-”
The monsters lunged.
Paul swung the chair hard enough that when it made contact with one of the hounds, it was sent sprawling. “Hell yeah!” he celebrates. I watch as he makes eye contact with another hound getting ready to swing again. The monster charges as Paul attempts to hit it. The hound simply bites the chair. “Uh oh… Good doggy?” The predator flings Paul across the room.
“Paul!” I scream, rushing to his side without thinking.
The shelter erupted into chaos. People scrambling, monsters snapping, the sounds of concrete cracking. I knelt beside Paul, hauling him upright as he coughed and groaned.
“I’m okay, I think. Sally, you need to-” Another shadow rose behind him. I didn’t scream. I simply pushed him out of the way.
The hellhound’s claw tore across my front as I fell, pain erupting through my body. I hit the floor hard, the breath knocked out of my lungs. I couldn’t move, even as Paul shouted my name. My body wouldn’t cooperate.
The world narrowed to pain, dust, and the sounds of my own heart pounding like war drums in my ears.
Not like this, I thought. I reached inward, to the place I hadn’t prayed from in years. To the gods I had learned to live beside, even when I hated them for what they were doing to my precious son.
Please, I begged silently. Any of you.
The monsters circled. Paul stood again, bleeding, defiant. “Get away from her!” I hear him shout.
I saw how this would end. And somehow, miraculously, I felt calm.
Protect my son, I prayed. Let him live. Let him be happy. Even if he never knows why.
I pictured Percy as a child, holding my hand at the beach. Him laughing. I pictured him now. Older, stronger, loved.
The monsters struck again. Pain becomes distant, like something happening from another room. I lay on the cold, concrete floor, vision blurred, and the world reduced to muffled sounds and shadows. The hellhounds' growl echoed as if through water. I could feel the vibrations of footsteps, the scrape of claws, and the sharp cracks. Paul swung another chair that he found discarded on the floor.
He’s still fighting. Of course he was.
Paul Blofis had never been a hero in any story. No prophecy had named him. No god had claimed him. He was a schoolteacher who loved bad coffee and correcting papers late into the night. He was a man who had chosen, every single day, to love the woman whose life was complicated and dangerous. And to love her son as if he were his own.
That was enough.
“Sally! Stay with me, please!”
I tried to answer him. My mouth moved, but only a whisper came out. “I’m here.”
A hellhound lunged again. Paul shielded me. Its teeth sank into his shoulder. He cried out in pain, raw and human, and brought the chair down hard. The metal bent, and the monster recoiled in a burst of dark smoke.
There were too many.
I could feel warmth spreading beneath me, seeping into the cracks in the floor. Each breath shallower than the last.
This is how it ends. Not with thunder or divine judgment, but in a dark basement, monsters feeding on the scraps of a war already decided. And yet, I still wasn’t afraid. I reached inward once more, further this time.
Poseidon, I thought at first. No, not him. Not tonight.
All of you. I don’t care which of you listens. I don’t care who claims credit. Let my son live.
A hellhound slammed Paul into the wall. He slid down, gasping as blood streaked the concrete. No. I forced myself to roll onto my side, ignoring the agonizing pain that shot through my body as I slowly dragged myself towards him.
Paul looked at me, eyes glassy but clear enough to see my face. “Hey,” he croaked out, trying to smile. “Guess we were wrong about safe shelters, huh?”
“You were brave. You were always brave.”
He shook his head weakly. “Percy. He’s a good kid. You did well, Sal.” I reached for his face. Cupping it with my hands. “I love you,” I muttered to him. “Thank you for loving us.”
The monsters closed in. Paul squeezed my hand once, hard. And then the shadows fell over us. I closed my eyes and reached out one last time.
Let him have happiness. Let him love and be loved. Let him come home, even if there’s no home left. My thoughts paused for a moment. Let him know that I love him.
Something heavy struck us. Then the world went quiet.
Percy
I don’t remember dropping Riptide. I don’t remember moving. One second, I was standing there, and then the next thing, I was screaming.
The sound tore out of me, raw and broken, and completely out of control. The room shook, air responding to something deep inside me.
“No! No, that’s not-no!”
It didn’t make sense. She couldn’t be gone. Not my mom. Anyone but her.
Water pooled at my feet as the sea responded to my grief. My rage, my disbelief.
Olympus trembled.
“Percy-” Annabeth reached for me. I pulled away.
Across the room, the gods watched. Some looked uncomfortable. Some looked guilty. Some looked like they were seeing something they’d forgotten how to understand.
Loss.
My father stepped forward, his expression dark and stormy. “My son-”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t call me that right now.”
Even he flinched. Good. Because I was done being the obedient hero.
“She prayed. She prayed even with her last dying breath.”
“For what? Revenge? Justice?”
“For you.” He didn’t elaborate on what he said. Just walked away, leaving me with my thoughts.
Time blurred after that. At some point, the gods conversed. Thrones reformened, the room repairing itself as if nothing had happened. As if everything hadn’t changed.
Zeus spoke about victory. About honor. About rewards.
I didn’t care. Then came the offer.
“Perseus Jackson,” Zeus said, his voice echoing with power. “You have performed a great service for Olympus. We have agreed to offer you immortality. A place among the gods.”
A place among them. A life without pain. Without loss. Without my mom. I couldn’t help but laugh. I wasn’t a happy sound.
“You let this happen. All of you. You let your kids fight in your wars. You let people die for you.” I looked at Poseidon. At Hermes. At all of them.
“You’ve lived so long that you don’t even know the feeling of loss. Of grief.” I scanned the room again. “I don’t want to be immortal. I want you to be better. To make sure that nothing like this can ever happen again. That your children won’t lose their lives because you couldn’t even bother to care about them.”
Silence. Then Zeus spoke.
“You insolent, ungrateful, little piece of-”
“Brother,” my father interrupted him. “He has every right to say that. And I will not let you smite the person who saved our asses.”
“If he does not want to accept immortality, as ridiculous as it might be, we should still give the boy something,” Athena spoke. “I suggest we each offer him a blessing or gift.”
All the Olympians seemed to be rather pleased with this compromise.
“I, Zeus, king of Olympus, grant you safe passage through my domain.”
“I, Possideon, grant you the power to control ice and vapor travel.”
“I Hades, bless you with the ability to hide in the shadows.”
“I, Ares, grant you exceptional battle knowledge.”
“I, Athena, bless you with knowledge greater than your age, although I think you have enough of that already.”
“I, Apollo, grant you advanced medical knowledge and musical talent.”
“I, Artemis, grant you the ability to navigate the wilderness more easily.”
“I, Aphrodite, bless you with the ability to make anything look extremely fashionable.”
“I, Hephaestus, allow you the ability to control water-based machinery.”
“I, Hermes, grant you the ability to move around much quieter and sneakier. I also wish to gift you this bag with an unlimited storage capacity.”
“I, Demeter, bless you with the protection of nature.”
“I, Hestia, bless you with emotional resiliency when things get tense or stressful.
“I, Dionysus, grant you immunity to intoxication.”
“And I, Hera, grant you one favor. You may use it now or at a later time, young demigod.”
As the other gods faded into pillars of light, leaving the throne room in a heavy, echoing silence, Poseidon and Hermes stepped toward me. We stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity, until Hermes finally spoke.
“Percy. Thank you. Not for saving Olympus, but making me realize how much of a horrible father I’ve been. Luke wasn’t my first mistake, and he sure as hell won’t be my last.” He paused. “But I’ll try harder. I’ll make sure that none of my children or any demigod feels like this again.”
“That’s all I ask of you all.” I solemnly replied.
“Luke, he- he had so much potential. So much more ahead of him.” The god looked me in the eyes, with a look I’d never seen on any of their faces before. “Percy, I see the same potential in you as I did in him. Do what he didn’t get the chance to do.” He rested his hand on my shoulder as he walked away toward the elevator.
As I watched Hermes disappear down the elevator, my father stepped closer. He didn’t look like a king in that moment. He looked like a man who had seen too many sunsets and lost too many friends.
“The sea does not like to be restrained, Percy. And right now, your heart is a storm that Camp Half-Blood cannot weather. If you stay there, every training dummy will be a monster, every face will be a reminder of the mother you couldn’t reach.”
I looked at my hand. They still buzzed with a power I didn’t want. “I can’t go back to that cabin, Dad. It’s empty. It’s just… empty.”
He nodded, his expression unreadable. “I know. Which is why you will not be a camper this year. Nor will you be a soldier for my brother.” He placed a firm hand on my shoulder, and for a second, the overwhelming scent of salt and ozone acted like a sedative, calming the frantic beat of my heart.
“While I cannot grant you sanctuary with me in my kingdom, I will handle that for you. All you need to do is go home. Take some time to pack your things and spend time helping the camp settle. I will let you know once everything is ready.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I can’t tell you that yet, my son. But be ready to have cops knocking on your door once it’s done.”
“That’s not vague at all.”
I could see the god’s faint twitch of the mouth. I guess he liked sarcasm in sad times. Then his face fell once more.
“The fates are cruel beings. I’m sorry for your losses. I cannot bring them back, Percy. Not even I can break the laws of Hades without starting a war that would truly end the world. But I can give you some peace with the sound of her laughter instead of her screams.”
I could see the longing in his features. I always knew he loved Mom. Even if the law of the divine opposed it. He truly did. We stood in silence one more. Time stretched on for longer than my ADHD would allow me to focus.
“She was… a goddess among mortals.”
“No matter how difficult I was, she was always so patient and kind.”
“She loved you. Even in her final moments, she prayed for you. For you to be happy and loved, even if it wasn’t because of her. Her final thoughts were to make sure one of us told you how much she loved you.”
That broke me. Even as she and Paul were dying, she thought about me. Her troubled, mischievous son. She prayed for me while she was dying. I could feel tears rolling down my face as my knees went weak and I collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
My father crouched down to my level, engulfing me in a warm embrace. The last things I could remember were his whispers about how proud she was of me. How much she loved me. And how proud he was of me. Then the world went black.