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The world had ended. Not almost ended. Not saved in the nick of time. Ended. Armageddon, or Ragnarök, or whatever you wanted to call it, had come and taken not only planet Earth but the universe as a whole. They'd tried to stop it, really they had, but once the ball had gotten rolling it had been impossible to stop as it spilled from the Greco-Roman Pantheon into the Norse, then the Egyptian, and then into all the rest.
Their pantheon had been in the heart of it from near the start, trying desperately to quell the fighting and, when that failed, assist the various heroes across all of the pantheons and mortal realm in trying to mitigate the harm. It hadn't been enough. They'd had to watch as the mythical world tore part the mortal world, bleeding over until the mist was burned away completely and the mortals were left scrambling and afraid, dying.
The mortals died in mass at first, taken out in massive disasters caused by the mythical fighting, though it slowed as their numbers dwindled. Demigods and other part-mythical mortals lasted longer if they abandoned the fight of their immortal kin, but even they didn't survive as the world drowned and shook and burned. Then, without the faith the mortals provided, the immortals began to fade. The weaker ones went first, but even the upsurge in religion caused by the loss of the mist saved any of them. Even the major gods began to fail, first individually, then entire pantheons, taking their mythical world with them.
Somehow, someway, they remained. The youngest pantheon—the one most tied into not only the mortal world but also into the rest of the mythical world—lingered even after both of the other two failed.
They retreated to their Camp at the end, falling back into the pocket realm that had been their home and sanctuary as the first thousand stars disappeared from the sky. The constellations were long gone, but seeing the stars themselves start to vanish was too much so they left. Their little side dimension wouldn't last much longer, they knew that. Heck, the outer city of Argo had already faded, alongside the last of it's residents. Only the inner camp remained alongside the deities who's power had created it. They had wanted that last place of comfort and the ability to be fully there with each other at the end. They all hoped that they would fade together, as a group, instead of one by one as some of the other pantheons had. None of them wanted to be the last one left, or to watch their remaining family vanish before their eyes.
That was how The Fates found them; gathered together on the ground near the fire pit that had hosted more grills and hangouts than they had bother to count over the hundred years since it's creation, awaiting the end.
Lester felt them first, attention snapping away from where he and Artemis had been wrapping their essence through and around the essence of their younger pantheon-members to zero in on the three beings that appeared in their home. Though it only took a nanosecond for the rest to notice as well, reacting to the feeling of new beings entering their home as well as to Lester's reaction. For a moment they were frozen, weakened domains stilling and energy fixing on observing the intruders. Then The Fates spoke.
"Greetings deities—"
"—of the mortal—"
"—pantheon."
"Children of—"
"—the modern—"
"—and global world."
"We have come—"
"—to offer you—"
"—a choice."
The Fates were, if anything fare creepier without the mist or self-imposed mortal forms. Chance, Past, Future, Inevitability, and Free Will danced in tangled, yarn-like threads of energy and essence in a way that was much like a god of many domains but also something much much more. Their were still three of them, and three voices, but they blended together and overlapped more than it seemed to mortal ears and eyes. It was disconcerting, but compared to the end of reality, none of them could find themselves to be entirely phased.
"A choice," Leo repeated, speaking first as he was oft to do. As he did so, he began to shift, essence compressing inward toward a more mortal-shaped form instead of pure essence and domains like before. "What kind of choice?" The rest followed his lead, falling inward to the mortal-like shapes they typically preferred now that it seemed that their end of existence had been delayed for the time being.
"A chance to—"
"—go back. Fix—"
"—what went—"
"—went wrong—"
"—now and—"
"—before."
"Prevent the—"
"—end from coming—"
"—before it's time."
"The world was not supposed to end yet, then?" Grover asked, Hope blossoming in his voice.
"It was not," The Fates agreed as one, sending a shiver of power through the space they were in.
"What do you mean by sent back?" Annabeth asked, quickly followed by Artemis' "And what would it entail?"
"You would be—"
"—sent back—"
"—to merge with your—"
"—younger bodies from—"
"—before the forming—"
"—of your pantheon."
"Before the—"
"—true start of—"
"—the end."
"Before Greek—"
"—and Rome sank—"
"—fully in denial."
"Wait." Hazel straightened, Risk and Chance stirring in her veins. "Are you saying you'll be sending us back before the second war against Gaia?"
"No," Artemis disagreed, shaking his head. "To prevent them from getting as fixed as they did it would have to be before that. Before the end of the war against Kronos, at the absolute latest."
"Correct," The Fates confirmed.
"If you—"
"—choose to return—"
"—then you will all—"
"— be sent back to—"
"— before the second—"
"—Titanomachy truly began."
"However—"
"—you would not—"
"—all wake—"
"—at the same—"
"—time as—"
"—each other."
"Each of you must—"
"— encounter and accept your—"
"—primary domains—"
"—after meeting—"
"—another that is—"
"—already awake."
"How would that work?" Frank asked, tilting his head with a confused frown. "If each of us needs to meet with someone already awake then the first person would never wake."
"There will—"
"—be one that—"
"—goes first."
The Fates didn't currently hold an appearance that had eyes, but Percy felt their gaze on him all the same. He let out a sigh.
"Me, right?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Loyalty will—"
"—lead the—"
"—charge and—"
"—light the way—"
"—for the rest—"
"—to follow."
Well that was more of a straightforward answer than Percy had been expecting. Actually, all of this had been weirdly straightforward.
"You said this was a choice," Nico's voice was suspicious. "What happens if we refuse."
"You will—"
"—join the rest—"
"—of existence as—"
"—this reality—"
"—comes to—"
"—it's end."
"And if we do accept?" Will asked. "What happens to this reality? And what happens to us if we change things? Won't that create a paradox?"
"This reality is—"
"—at it's—"
"—final end."
"Intended—"
"—or not—"
"—there is—"
"—no stopping—"
"—it's end—"
"—now."
"If you agree—"
"—then your threads—"
"—will be plucked—"
"—from this unraveling—"
"—weave and—"
"—rewoven into—"
"—what remains after—"
"—it is unwoven enough—"
"—to regain stability."
"Your strands will not—"
"—unravel as—"
"—you make changes—"
"—between the new—"
"—weave and—"
"—the old."
"If we're being sent back to before our pantheon formed, then what happens to our divinity?" Lester asked, eyes flickering over the mortal-born majority of his family. "To theirs? If they go back as gods it will alter things entirely."
"Your threads are—"
"—divine threads. That—"
"—cannot—"
"—and will not—"
"—be changed. However—"
"—the divinity will—"
"—be bound and tucked—"
"—within the mortality —"
"—of the past."
"All who were—"
"—mortal then—"
"—shall be mortal—"
"—again, but divinity—"
"—shall burn through—"
"—with time."
"So they'll be mortal—truly mortal—for who knows how long," Lester clarified unhappily. "Possibly years?"
"That's not an easy transition," Calypso noted, scanning around their group. "You were all mortal before, but it has been over a century. It will be a loss, and not a simple one."
"It's painful." Lester frowned, turning away from The Fates entirely to put his whole focus on the ones who would be effected by this. "Maybe not in the way your thinking, and not entirely right away, but it's painful all the same."
"But it would give us a chance to fix this," Grover pointed out, shifting on his hooves. "Save all the people and the mythos that were destroyed because Zeus and the other Olympians couldn't get their act together."
"Others too," Will put in, meeting Percy's gaze. "From the wars back then. We could save lives."
"And lose others," Jason pointed out. "War still includes death. And I doubt we're going to get through this without both wars, even as we work on the Olympians."
"So, to get this straight—" Piper began "—our options are to accept this, deal with whatever pain and discomfort that comes with being mortal again and possibly cause different people to die this time while trying to convince the Greek and Roman Pantheons to be less problematic. Or we refuse and fade into nothingness as this reality completely unravels, correct?"
"That is correct." The three overlapping and intertwining voices never got less weird. Especially since they almost seemed less like voices and more like meaning sinking into their cores when they spoke as one.
The group exchanged looks, essences intermingling as they considered the offer being put in front of them. In the end it wasn't even a discussion. They all took a moment to take each other in, trying to memorize the parts of each other—and themselves—that they were about to lose, even if just for a couple of years.
Thirteen pairs of wings, each drastically different from the next, spread out to overlap and intermingle with the ones beside them as their essences danced with each other's once more. Fingers traced scars and tattoos that would no longer exist on younger bodies. Some would be gone for good, erased or replaced by changes to the new history they would be building. Even their tattoos might shift if their ascensions went too differently this time.
"I will remember," Lester's voice was a balm as his essence—still somehow fuller than the rest of them despite the loss of so much of the world thanks to how many things he was made of— spread out to encompass them all. "If any detail is lost in your mortal minds or left behind when you re-ascend I will still remember and I will remind you. Nothing we have built will be forgotten, nor will any of those we have known. Not as long as my essence exists."
It was a comfort, and a welcome one. Mortal minds could only hold so much, they knew that. And that was what most of them were going back to. Even Artemis couldn't be sure that all of her memories would stay sharp, considering she was returning to a version of herself who had never held this aspect. Very few gods remembered things clearly across pantheon-aspects, but Apollo had always been one of them. They trusted him to guard what they would lose, remember what they could not.
Nico moved first, essence reaching out to merge more fully with that of his father-in-law and share some of his Memories with the god of them. Moments he didn't want to risk losing. Treasures too precious to be forgotten. The others followed moments later, filling the god of Memories with countless moments—both big and small—that were carefully tucked away in his being. He would gift them back with them once they would be able to bear and keep them fully.
They lingered there for a time before pulling back to more physical forms once more, though they stood close enough together that their edges burred and merged into one another in a way no mortals could. Then—and only then—did they turn their attention back toward The Fates once more.
"We're ready."
Percy's words—spoken for all of them—caused a ripple of power to ripple through the realm before everything went perfectly still. A quick inspection of the world around him told Lester that he hadn't moved, his family was still there around him, but their even their essences had gone utterly still. Mortal-born habit had him drawing in a long, shaky breath and letting it out before turning his attention forward once more. As he expected, The Fates were still there, unaffected by the sudden freeze of the rest of the remaining existence. Not that he had expected otherwise. He'd dealt with something like this a couple of times in his existence, almost always when they wanted something from him.
"What is it you need from me?" he asked, hoping that he wasn't going to be asked to hide anything from the others. He would do it if he must, but he had worked hard to move away from hiding and lying over the last century and had no desire to return to it.
"You are—"
"—too much."
"Too large."
"We cannot—"
"—send all of you—"
"—back to the past—"
"—god of—"
"—multitudes. Your essence would—"
"—create unbalance."
Lester blinked once, taking that in, before dipping his head in acceptance. He didn't think about it often, but he knew he was…larger than even most major deities. He held too many Domains not too be, large domains at that. Pairing that with perfect memory that held not only the past, but also altered and redone parts of their histories and futures. Plus there was the fact that he never truly changed who he was between pantheons, or lost memories across then. Which meant that, despite the loss of the Greek and Roman pantheons, he still held his Domains from his other aspects.
Well. Let's just say that he was never confused as to why his father had always deemed him a threat needing to be cowed.
Even now—diminished as he and his family were from the loss of the mortals—several of his Domains held strong enough that his essence was far larger than any of the others in their pantheon. If everything he was now merged with everything that he was back then….he could see how it could be a problem.
"Will all of my memories and emotions go back with what is sent?" That was what mattered after all, no matter how much of his essence had to remain here and unravel with the reality they currently stood in.
"All of you—"
"—will keep—"
"—the memories—"
"—and emotions—"
"—you hold. None—"
"—shall be lost."
"Good." Lester allowed himself a small sigh of relief before he peered back at them in confusion. "Then why pull be aside? Why not just leave the part of me here that needs to be left to fade into oblivion?"
"We have—"
"—another offer—"
"—for you,—"
"—god of—"
"—Stories and Protector—"
"—of Youth."
"Another offer?" Lester repeated, frowning slightly as he did so. What more could they offer him?
"Yes."
"If you agree—"
"—then we shall—"
"—use you and—"
"—the fading remains—"
"—of this reality—"
"—to attempt—"
"—to weave a second—"
"—tapestry alongside—"
"—the one your—"
"—other part—"
"—and family—"
"—will be shaping."
A second tapestry? That sounded…complicated was the best word he had for it. But these were The Fates after all, and the idea of multiple realities was far from a foreign one.
"This would give a different version of our past selves and the other people involved a chance at a better life?" He clarified.
"It would."
Lester didn't bother to fight the smile that started to break across his face. He was being given not one, but two chances to save not only the world but the people he cared about most. Sure, neither part of him would know if the other part succeeded, and part of him would probably still fade into nonexistence at the end, but that was a small price to pay.
"I'm in," he told them, as if there was ever any doubt. "What exactly is this going to entail?"