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The edge of Chaos.
Apollo could feel where he was in his very bones...mostly because it was the reason his bones were dissolving underneath his skin. He was dissolving. Being this close to the primordial soup of everything and nothing is not recommended for the mortal body. Do not try this at home, kids. Your parents will have at least ten different heart-attacks.
Okay, time to be serious again.
Styx's words still rung in the god's head, her laugh splintering through what was left of his cracking mind. I suppose you'll have to decide. Then she'd dissolved into smoke, which drifted upward toward the airy climes of Erebos.
He wished he could fly like that. But, alas, even here, at the precipice of nonexistence, he was subjected to gravity.
At least he had vanquished Python.
He would never rise again. Apollo could die knowing that his friends were safe. The Oracles were restored. The future was still open for business.
So what if Apollo was erased form existence? Maybe Aphrodite was right. Eleven Olympians was plenty. Hephaestus could pitch this as a reality TV show: Eleven is Enough. His streaming-service subscriptions would go through the roof.
For a moment, he couldn't make himself let go. He'd told Styx he'd learned his lesson, and he meant it. Apollo had promised Meg he would return to her. He hadn't sworn it as an oath, but that didn't matter. He said he would do it, so he should follow through. Plus, he wanted to see his sister. He wanted to hug her and sob into her arms and tell her over and over again how much he loved her and missed her. Most of all, he wanted to remember what she looked like, finally be able to put a face to the smell of honeysuckles and pine.
Another finger slipped. He only had three holding him up now.
How could he die, not remembering the faces of his loved ones? How could he die after Jason and everyone else had sacrificed their lives to get Apollo to this point. How could he ever be so selfish as to choose nonexistence?
And yet.
And yet, he couldn't pull himself up. He tried, he swore he did, but it wasn't enough. Another finger slipped. His breath hitched in panic.
He had so many people he wanted to see—he couldn't die now. Meg would be sorely disappointed in him.
So what was holding him back? What weighed on him so heavily that he...
Oh.
Oh.
It was exhaustion. He was tired. That was literally it.
Not physically, there wasn't really any physical anything left of him to be tired in that aspect—his essence was literally just floating in a slightly humanoid form. But mentally. Emotionally.
Apollo wanted to think Zeus would be disappointed in him if he let go of the rock. He desperately wanted to believe that at the very least, even if the king clearly didn't care if he came back or not, he would still feel something from a son of his dying. But that wasn't true, because Zeus did care. Just not in the way Apollo wanted him to. Apollo wanted worry, some deep-down realization that if he didn't come back, Zeus would genuinely lose a child he'd loved for millennia. But Zeus would only care out of relief that a threat Apollo had been eradicated died.
And that made Apollo sick to his stomach.
He shouldn't be letting his father be the deciding factor in any of this, because what had Zeus even done for him these days besides make him feel miserable? He shouldn't even be thinking of Zeus, because he had so many other people that actually did love him unconditionally and cherished him.
Another slip. Only one finger holding him up now.
But...Apollo couldn't go back to Olympus. He couldn't stand to drag himself out of this hellhole only to look into his own father's eyes and see nothing but the carelessness that had been in his eyes when Hera had screamed about Jason's death. He wouldn't be able to take it. Despite everything, despite all he'd convinced himself he did not care for his father any longer, despite his realization that he had his own Beast, that would be the one thing that would finally break him.
He thinks tears formed in his eyes because the world suddenly became blurry.
"I'm sorry," he croaked, closing his eyes.
Four thousand years of existence passed through his mind, happy and sad moments alike. He'd miss them.
His finger gave out.
The prophecy came true.
Apollo fell.
"I'm so sorry."
Meg stared at the floor of the Big House, Peaches curled up at her feet. Percy Jackson sat on her left, Will Solace pacing back and forth on her right.
Percy had come back to Camp Half-Blood to check up on them, see if they still needed any help from back when that giant statue of Nero had rained its wrath upon the entire camp. Now, however, he was waiting with Meg and Will. You might ask, for what?
Apollo.
It had been over a week since he'd gone off to fight Python alone.
And Meg hadn't seen her stupid Lester since. She worried, really worried that something might've happened to him. She knew the odds were not on her side. But she hoped, for once, that she wouldn't have to lose another person she cared about. Another person she loved.
Nico was there, too, and was desperately trying to calm down his boyfriend, who's agitation only grew by every minute that passed.
"He'll be fine," Will muttered for the seventh time that half-hour. "Nico, you can't sense his death? You're sure?"
"Uhm..." Nico frowned, hesitating, but he shook his head. "No. I mean, there's still a chance I can't feel his death because he's a god—"
"Then he'll be fine!" Will said, a little too loudly, clearly choosing to ignore anything Nico told him beyond the No.
Meg couldn't blame him. She wondered half-heartedly how it must've felt, not knowing where your own father was or if he was even okay. At least Meg had the immediate confirmation that her dad had died. Not knowing must've been even worse.
Percy's leg bounced vigorously. "I'm sure he's okay. Probably on Olympus resting or whatever. Last time I'd blown up a mountain and ended up on Ogygia, it took like, four days to fully wake up. Same thing's most likely happened with him."
Nico's gaze turned sad. Apparently, somewhere through the trials, the sun god had grown on him as well. "I hope you're right, Percy."
Meg did too. She'd never had much faith in the gods, but she prayed her dummy would be alive. That's all she needed from him. He didn't have to be okay, she just needed him to be.
Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour. The sky had begun to change from its navy blue to a plethora of light purples and oranges.
And all of a sudden, there was a different source of purple lighting coming from inside the Big House.
All four of their heads snapped up, even Peaches blinking awake as the brightness grew. With a loud POP, Dionysus appeared out of thin air, his expression...less than pleasant. There was nobody else with him. Meg felt her stomach sink.
"Where's Apollo?" she asked, her heart thundering in her chest. Her question seemed to electrify the air, weaving into it the same tension and grief that Leo's had. The parallels sickened her to the point where she had to resist the urge to throw up.
Where's Jason?
Where's Apollo?
The same question, and gods forbid they had the same answer.
Mr. D stared at her with empty eyes. The violet in them—once vibrant and loud—was now a dull eggplant. "I spoke to the Fates."
"What does that mean?" Percy scoffed, leaning back in his seat. "Don't play around with your words like you did to me. Give her a straight answer. She deserves that much."
"I was getting to that, Jackson," the camp director grit out, jaw clenched like it physically pained him to speak.
"Mr. D," Will said breathlessly, making it sound more like a plead than anything else. "Where is my dad."
"The Moirai told me that Apollo's string had been snapped." Dionysus' shoulders drooped, as if saying it aloud made it too real. "Apollo is gone. I'm sorry."
Meg felt her heart wither and die like the rose her father had given her before he'd met his end. "Gone?" she repeated, her voice uncharacteristically tiny.
"Faded," the wine god clarified. "He fell into..."
"Chaos," Percy breathed, the realization seeming to hit him like a truck. "He fell into Chaos."
"That's—that's not possible." Will stumbled over his words, tears welling in his eyes as his gaze darted wildly between Mr. D and Percy. "He can't possibly have fallen that far. That's not possible. That's not—" his breath hitched as he slapped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. Nico pulled the son of Apollo into a tight hug as he sobbed into his boyfriend's chest.
Meg thought she might die. Thorned vines were circling around her throat, getting tighter and tighter and crushing her windpipe. It hurt.
It hurt.
"Holy shit," Percy breathed, slumping down with wide eyes, like a part of his world had just been shattered.
Meg's world certainly had. She might've said it was burning, but there was no warmth. How could there be, when the sun—her sun, her dummy with his dumb poetry and even dumber songs was gone? She stared at Dionysus as if he had some sort of explanation for her. He looked like his soul had just been crushed. And it made Meg furious.
"He was supposed to come back," she grit out, tears burning her eyes as she clenched her hands so hard her nails pierced the skin of her palm. "You were supposed to be his family. You were supposed to make sure he came back!"
Mr. D genuinely flinched. "We can't control what our father decides. Artemis tried, but..."
"What your father decides?" Even Percy sounded outraged. "You're saying Zeus just let Apollo die? What kind of king—what kind of father does that?"
"I'm sorry, Percy," he snapped, tears welling in his dull violet eyes. "He was my brother, alright? It's my brother that's dead. If you think for a second that I am not just as upset as you, then you have a lot more to learn in that aspect."
Meg knew he was telling the truth. After all, he'd even called Percy by his actual name, not something annoying like "Peter". He cared. But it was too little, and way too late to show it. She thought she might cry, but the tears stayed stubbornly put. All she felt was this overwhelming guilt for letting Lester go down there alone and the excruciating pain from the gaping hole forming in her heart.
Peaches seemed to sense her distress because he nestled against her leg affectionately, clueless as to what had just happened.
Apollo wasn't coming back. It was an impossible concept. And yet, it had happened anyway.
"He promised," she whispered, not caring about the way her voice cracked, still staring at Dionysus. Meg imagined her face looked hollow. Lifeless. After all, how was a flower supposed to flourish without the sun? She wanted to be angry at him for not following through. She wanted to hate Apollo for just leaving her. But she couldn't live like that. The idiot would probably cry if Meg was ever actually mad at him, and despite how much she played most things off, she couldn't stand the thought of seeing him genuinely sad. All she could imagine was Apollo hanging on by a thread, trying to fulfill his promise and get back to her, but finally never being able to in the end.
It was as gut-wrenching as it was devastating.
Some part of her wondered if it would have been different if she'd gone with him. If he hadn't been so stubborn about going alone, if she could've just been there to help—
Lights turned on outside.
From the prior quiet, the camp seemed to come to life. Through her bleary eyes, she could make out warm lighting came from the inside of each cabin, some doors already open with tired-looking campers walking out to start their day. The inhabitants of Cabin Seven were the first ones out and the only campers that didn't still look sleepy.
Meg felt whatever was left of her heart be ripped to shreds.
Dawn had arrived, the sun returning and lighting up the sky in an array of golds and oranges.
But her sun hadn't returned.
And he never would.