Chapter Text
Sally Jackson heard it from the kitchen; it was a very distinctive knock. Four quick strikes, followed immediately by two that lingered—unhurried and deliberate. That exact rhythm had not wavered since the day she brought her son home from the hospital. These days, Percy still perked up at its summons like a child hearing the secret code to a clubhouse. One moment her son was enjoying blue cake for breakfast alongside her, Paul, and Estelle; the next, he was up and pulling a charcoal-gray motorcycle jacket over his camp clothes.
Today was his twenty-first birthday. He had changed considerably since deciding not to follow Annabeth Chase to New Rome three years ago, opting instead to dedicate himself fully to Camp Half-Blood. Broadening out into the exact build and stature of his father's human form, no one could deny that he had grown into the battle-hardened, fierce leader Greek demigods desperately needed, forging alliances across every known pantheon. Far more half-bloods were surviving into adulthood now, and having him as a field leader was the primary reason why.
He didn't even reside in Cabin 3 anymore, having moved into the Big House with Chiron after Mr. D was officially released from his punishment. With several wars under his belt, very little managed to surprise Percy these days. He visited home often to see his little sister, though Sally had long since stopped expecting him to settle down or seek out romance again.
In spite of everything, Sally remained cautious whenever he left with the man on the other side of that door. He had made her nervous ever since he showed up a couple of hours after she brought baby Percy home, claiming to be her biological father from an affair over two decades prior.
His devotion to Percy hadn't wavered since the moment she first placed the baby in his arms.
He was certainly helpful—paying rent, covering bills, and funding every entry fee or piece of equipment for any competition Percy ever expressed interest in. But ever since his true line of work was revealed to involve arms dealing, Sally worried endlessly about her son—especially given Poseidon's equal, overwhelming possessiveness over him.
"That's Ace! I've got to split."
"Are you two going racing tonight?"
“Don't we always?" Percy teased. "Ace always picks a winner!”
Paul snickered from the table. "Because he always bets on you.”
"Be careful,” Sally urged, picking up her daughter to follow him toward the entryway, even though Estelle was getting a bit too big to carry around easily. Sally still regretted telling her father he couldn't buy Percy a dog—because five years ago, he bought him a motorcycle instead.
The front door swung open to reveal a tall man, easily six-and-a-half feet tall, with a broad, square jaw and the build of an armored tank. His predominantly silver undercut was streaked with midnight black, matching a neatly trimmed goatee. Three thin scars cut across his face: one beneath his left eye, one above his eyebrow, and a third near his hairline. Today he wore a dark gray suit jacket with matching trousers, a blood-red vest, and a crisp white dress shirt with the top button left undone.
He wore the exact same jewelry Sally had seen on him for years: a heavy gold chain around his neck descending into a sizable scorpion pendant, thick gold cuff bracelets carved like crocodiles around each wrist, and circular gold earrings stamped with the image of a hippo. A large golden eagle brooch was pinned directly over his breast pocket. Looking at him, Sally could understand why her mother had been tempted all those years ago.
"Ace!" Percy grinned.
"There's my boy!”
They collided in a bone-crushing hug like two battering rams meeting head-on. Her father took a brief moment to greet Sally and Estelle, but his glowing amber eyes inevitably tracked straight back to his grandson. Those eyes, like liquid fire, rarely left Percy whenever they were together.
They headed out to celebrate his birthday, and Sally watched from the doorway until both vanished down the hall.
Paul couldn't help but comment as the door clicked shut, "I still don't understand why you won't just ask your father for his real name.”
"Names have power," Sally replied softly. “And there are some things we're better off not knowing."
“Doesn't that seem a bit extreme for Grandpa?" Paul asked. "I get that he's a scary arms dealer, but he never brings the business around Percy.”
“There has always been far more to it beneath the surface, Paul. Trust me.”
“Alright, babe.”
They had barely reached the street below when Ace spoke the magic words: "Do you want to go spar before the races tonight?"
"Of course!" Percy agreed without a second thought. Sparring against Ace was the only real challenge he'd had in the past year.
As they walked, they chatted about Percy's recent races and Ace's work travel over the past few months. Since Percy had grown older, his grandfather only came through New York a few times a year. Back when he was training Percy for statewide combat tournaments before Camp Half-Blood, he had practically lived in the city. When Percy eventually transitioned into camp life full-time, there had been no dramatic argument; Ace had simply accepted that phase of his grandson's life was over.
Walking back into the private gym where all his hand-to-hand combat training had begun felt like a true homecoming. Percy had his own key, but it never felt the same without Ace there. Changing into lightweight training gear, they continued catching up easily.
The moment their spar began, Percy realized just how much built-up tension he had been carrying. Ace was the only person alive—outside of actual life-or-death battles—with whom Percy didn't have to hold back his physical strength. Naturally, Poseidon's son wasn't naive. Ace's absurd strength, inhuman reflexes, and overall aura meant he was tied to ancient mythology somehow. But like his mother, Percy saw no reason to go knocking on mysterious doors when he liked the way things were.
Ace kicked off the match with his usual roar: "Step into The Warlord's Tent and show me what you're fighting for!”
When the front chime rang as an associate dropped by to pay respects upon hearing Ace was in town, neither fighter broke eye contact. Ace simply barked over his shoulder, "Get the fuck out!”
Their spars were brutal, which was the main reason Percy let his mother believe this tradition had died out years ago along with the official tournaments. Ace never went easy on him, and Percy needed that level of intensity.
When Percy made his first misstep, his grandfather barked, “Keep fighting!"
Catching his second wind, Percy drove forward. It felt incredible to burn off his excess power in a controlled, constructive space.
"Keep your chin up! Look me in the eye!" Ace commanded as their fists collided.
Percy corrected his stance mid-pivot.
“You are a brutal hurricane, a suffocating gale—so act like it! Don't hold back!”
Percy went full throttle.
"Fight me until your muscles fail! Fight me until you hit the ground!"
And that was precisely how it ended. They traded blows until Percy had nothing left in the tank, and Ace finally swept his legs to put him on his back.
Laughing heartily, Ace extended a hand to pull Percy up. They headed to the showers, his grandfather praising Percy's form and speed the entire way. Once dressed, they walked out to the street-side parking, Ace remarking, "You are the only mortal creature who can watch the eagle fly…”
It was a phrase Ace used often—one Percy never fully understood, but accepted anyway.
"You have the patience to watch any enemy fall," Ace continued passionately. "Any mortal would fall to their knees to stand beside you as a warlord. Let me give you half the world."
"No thanks, Ace," Percy chuckled, shaking his head. "I know the kind of idiots this world is full of.”
Ace laughed loudly. "Fair enough."
They reached Ace's pristine red 1975 Maserati Khamsin, and the keys were immediately tossed across its roof. "Just got her back from Peter's shop with the new performance upgrades. You drive."
"I love you so much!" Percy grinned, catching the keys.
The engine’s growl rattled through the narrow alley, but the hum in Percy’s chest wasn’t just from the Maserati. His forearms stung where Ace had caught him with a heavy low block—a dull ache that usually took hours to fade. Ace leaned back against the leather seat, adjusting his gold scorpion pendant with a flick of his wrist. For a second, the quiet between them felt heavier than the fight itself—the unspoken understanding of two warriors who only felt entirely themselves with their gloves on. Percy let out a long breath, letting the adrenaline ease into the cool New York air as he pulled into traffic.
Neither noticed the black Harley tailing them from a distance, its frame adorned with painted flames and its exhaust rumbling like hellfire.
Percy drove them to his nearby storage locker, where he handed back the Maserati keys. Ace had originally planned to buy Percy a dog for his sixteenth birthday, but when Sally vetoed the idea, he bought him a black MTT Y2K Turbine superbike with custom red accents instead. Though street-legal at purchase, Ace's mechanic, Peter, had modified it until it could outrun track-only superbikes with ease.
With hours to go before the night races, they took turns tearing through the streets of Manhattan, outrunning a pair of confused traffic cops before stopping for a late lunch. Over food, Ace brought up Percy's love life, but Percy admitted he didn't even know where to start these days. Ace listened attentively as Percy talked about spending more time with his best friend recently.
When night fell, they headed to the underground racing docks. Percy changed into an all-black suit and full-face helmet to protect his identity, signing up under his usual handle: Sandstorm. Ace didn't enter his Maserati, but the bookie tent cheered when they saw their favorite high-roller stroll into the pit area.
As Percy lined up his bike for the first heat, Ace stepped over to the betting counter—only to be rudely interrupted.
"Set.”
Set looked up, coolly appraising the Greek God of War standing before him. "Ares." He turned back to the tally sheet. "I'm still not happy with you."
"And I suppose now we finally know why," Ares grunted sarcastically.
Set ignored him, placing a stack of bills on the counter.
"I came by your gym earlier," Ares pressed, "But you didn't seem to be in an entertaining mood."
"I was right where I wanted to be."
"I didn't know the punk raced."
"Given your track record, there's a lot you don't know about Percy," Set replied, shutting down the conversation. "Now, it's my boy's birthday, and I would very much like to enjoy it. Scram."
Ares stared after him, scowling. He could only think of one reason the Egyptian God of Violence would spend a whole day trailing a demigod, but surely Aphrodite would have mentioned a relationship of that scale, wouldn't she? Slipping into the shadows, Ares watched them for the rest of the night.
After six dominant heats and thousands of dollars changing hands, Percy and Set prepared to part ways for the night—Percy back to camp, and Set to his duties.
Set pulled Percy into a firm, affectionate side-hug. "You are the absolute only thing worth fighting for. Happy birthday, precious prince.”
"Thanks, Ace,” Percy accepted the endearment and an affectionate pat on his shoulder without hesitation.
To Ares, watching from the shadows, that was all the confirmation he needed. Stunned, he mounted his motorcycle and rocketed straight back to Mount Olympus.
High above the Manhattan skyline, the air grew crisp and thin. Below, the city grid flickered like embers, but on the marble steps of Mount Olympus, the silence was absolute. Ares marched through the grand colonnade, the image of Set and the sea demigod—relaxed, familiar, and comfortable—refusing to leave his mind. By the time the massive gold doors of the council chamber swung open, his suspicion had burned into full-blown certainty.
The throne room was mostly quiet in the early morning hours. Ares took his seat, skimming through scattered prayers from demigods. As dawn broke, the remaining thrones began to fill for the morning council.
Artemis arrived alongside Apollo; Hephaestus and Hermes grumbled about being pulled from their work. Aphrodite appeared with Eros hovering under her throne, while Dionysus and Athena arrived arguing over a party that may or may not have spiraled out of control. Demeter and Poseidon were the last to sit before Zeus and Hera took their central thrones.
"Reports?" Zeus demanded.
“Smooth sailing," Artemis said crisply.
"Ahead of schedule on delivery routes," Hermes admitted.
"No major crises on the horizon," Apollo agreed.
"The forges are operating at peak capacity," Hephaestus grunted.
“Harvests are bountiful," Demeter noted, Dionysus nodding lazily beside her.
“Percy Jackson is dating again!" Ares blurted out, breaking the mundane routine and drawing every eye in the room.
Several faces turned toward him in surprise, but one un-noted expression flared with sudden, offended jealousy.
Ares turned an accusatory glare on his girlfriend. "And I can't believe you didn't tell me!”
"I didn't know!" Aphrodite snapped.
"You outsourced to another pantheon!"
"Like Hades I did!"
The room erupted into shouting until Zeus let out a crack of thunder. "Quiet!"
The gods silenced themselves, though several were glaring.
Zeus turned to Ares. "What are you talking about? Explain yourself."
"Yeah!" Poseidon cut in, visibly offended. "I think I would know if my own son was seeing someone!"
"I saw him hooking up with Set on his birthday yesterday!" Ares declared loudly.
Across the hearth, a pair of sharp blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What do you mean 'hooking up'?!" Aphrodite gasped. "Why wasn't I informed? Eros!"
"Whoa, hold on—I don't think that's what was happening," Eros said skeptically, being the only one noticing the subtle shift across the room. "Dad—”
"I know what I saw! They sparred at Set's gym like it was foreplay the second he got into town," Ares insisted. "He let Jackson drive his chariot, bought him a custom superbike straight from Ptah, and Set had his arms all over him!"
Zeus turned to Poseidon. "Do you know anything about this?"
"Fuck no!"
Zeus looked toward Hephaestus. "The rules of non-interference are different for the Egyptians, but can you confirm that vehicle?"
Hephaestus paused, accessing his divine forge network. "Ptah did forge a custom turbine bike for Set five years ago.”
"Five years ago? Percy was still with Annabeth then!" Poseidon argued. "There is no way."
"Forging a gift and delivering it are two different things," Athena noted, unexpectedly agreeing with Poseidon's logic.
"I know what I saw!" Ares barked.
"Ares,” Zeus commanded, “Show us.”
Ares conjured his memory into the center of the hall. The illusion displayed Set's gym, showing the two of them sparring furiously. Looking closer now that he wasn't distracted by the fight, Ares finally noticed the wall behind them—plastered with photos of Percy growing up alongside Set at various tournaments. A flicker of doubt crossed Ares' mind—Set wasn't a groomer by any means—but he kept his mouth shut as Poseidon's jaw clenched at the sight of Set throwing his son across the ring.
"Why in the name of the Fates can Jackson look upon Ra?" Zeus demanded.
"And why is he letting my son drive his chariot?!" Poseidon growled, the floor of Olympus trembling beneath his throne. “Not to mention giving him that deathtrap!”
Zeus pinched the bridge of his nose. "We cannot summon a foreign deity if no law has been broken. But we can summon Jackson.”
"Allow me," Poseidon hissed, rising and slamming his trident down.
"It must be recent," Aphrodite tried to soothe.
"No way, babe," Ares snorted.
Aphrodite glared at him before turning back to Poseidon. "He was bound to start dating again eventually."
"Not with the enforcer of another pantheon!" Poseidon snapped. "Especially not from the oldest, most volatile court in existence!”
Hera observed the scene calmly. "Perhaps this dramatic reaction is fueled more by fatherly concern than anger?"
Poseidon huffed, sinking back into his throne. Outside, the distinct whine of a turbine motorcycle echoed up through the clouds.
Percy had barely fallen asleep in his room at the Big House when his father's voice boomed in his mind, commanding him to report to Mount Olympus immediately. He grabbed his jacket, didn’t remember rushing to his storage locker for his bike, but that’s where he was after tuning in and rode straight to the Empire State Building under the cover of the Mist.
Stepping off the elevator into the throne room, Percy immediately felt the tension. Recognizing the full council was present, he addressed the head of the table first. "Uncle."
"Nephew," Zeus replied without preamble. "It has been brought to our attention that you have entered a relationship that should have been disclosed to this council as a matter of diplomatic protocol.”
Percy blinked. "With who?!"
"A major deity of the Egyptian pantheon."
"That's a ridiculous rumor.”
"You went on a date with him!" Ares shouted from his throne.
Percy glanced over at Aphrodite and Eros. "You two could have at least told me."
"We all saw the date, son," Poseidon said tightly.
"Again—with who?"
Hera leaned forward, studying Percy carefully. "Do you deny spending your birthday with Lord Set?”
The mention of his birthday made everything click into place. "Are you talking about my ace?!"
Hera raised an eyebrow. "I believe you called him that, yes.”
Percy threw his hands up in sheer disbelief. "He's my maternal grandfather, not my boyfriend!"
A stunned, absolute silence fell over Mount Olympus.
"Perseus..."
Every head turned toward the entrance. The heavy golden doors swung open to reveal three figures. In the center stood an ancient, imposing god in white robes, wearing a radiant sun crown topped with an eagle. To his right stood a lion-headed goddess holding a curved blade, her maw stained crimson. To his left stood Ace, looking identical to how he had the night before.
Glowing with divine radiance, Lord Ra gestured toward the exit. "Give us the floor, kiddo."
Percy looked back at the Greek gods, giving them a sympathetic cringe. "Best of luck to you.”
As Percy passed his grandfather, Set caught him in a brief hug. "Wait for me downstairs."
Percy looked at him guardedly, then nodded. "Okay.”
The moment the throne room doors slammed shut behind Percy, Set turned toward Ares, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched. "Boy... I am about to beat your ass!”
Ares raised his hands defensively. “I am so sorry! I had no idea—”
"If you knew how to keep your damn mouth shut, you—"
"Enough!" Ra's voice boomed, his presence expanding until the hall flared with blinding light. "I was asked for centuries to introduce my bloodline to Olympus, and I finally consented. Be grateful!”
"Though in an unexpected fashion," Zeus noted coldly. "Set was never known to sire male heirs.”
"After millennia of service and redemption, an exception was granted in the form of a grandson," Ra stated clearly.
"If he is three-fourths divine, then—" Poseidon started, but Set cut him off.
"I was given one boy, and I had no intention of losing him to something as fragile as mortality.”
Poseidon's eyes flashed dangerously. "He is my son!"
Set met his gaze evenly. “Do you think my only daughter, who grew up unaware of her heritage, just happened to cross paths with you by accident?”
Poseidon went quiet, his sea-green eyes widening.
"You were hand-picked because of your reputation as a protective father," Set revealed. "Be grateful for your claim on him, and keep your lid on.”
"Furthermore... " Ra added, giving Set a pointed look.
Zeus muttered under his breath, "An argument could be made that he should have looked higher up the hierarchy.”
Hera instantly glared at her husband.
Set smirked, his amber eyes flashing with vicious satisfaction. "Not if you were the last god in the cosmos would I let you near one of my girls." He turned his gaze back to Poseidon, even while still addressing Zeus. "I do owe you thanks for your laws of non-interference, though. Without them, I might have had an actual rival for his affection while raising that one."
That broke Poseidon's restraint. As the Sea God lunged forward, Zeus surged up from his throne, grabbing his brother to hold him back.
"An unnecessary provocation," Ra scolded Set lightly. His masculine enforcer merely shrugged.
Zeus dragged a furious Poseidon back toward the palaces to cool off, leaving Hera to manage these divine visitors.
"When will Perseus ascend to full immortality?" Hera asked, composure restored. "We must make arrangements."
“He already did. Yesterday," Ra revealed smoothly. "I sent Set to mind him during the transition."
Hera blinked, caught off guard.
Ra let out a deep, rumble of a chuckle. "Dear Queen, I have been managing pantheons for a very long time. Competence is my bare minimum.”
Hera inclined her head respectfully. “Your efficiency is appreciated.”
"Now, we must take our leave," Ra said, turning toward the exit.
The three Egyptian deities shifted back into passable human disguises before stepping into the elevator.
Down on the marble plaza below, Percy stood near the edge of the overlook, his boots planted on the glistening stone. The city stretched out fifty stories below—bustling and normal—yet everything looked subtly altered to his senses. Sharper, louder, hyper-present. His hands felt strangely warm.
It struck like he was suffocating. He’d teleported to storage earlier without realizing it. Percy wanted to gasp, but no longer felt the need.
No thunder had crashed; no divine light had signaled a change. The quiet realization settled over him like a heavy weight: the boundary between mortality and forever had vanished during his birthday spar with Ace, and he hadn't even felt it happen.
The elevator doors opened, and Set stepped out onto the plaza. He spotted Percy standing near the edge, staring intently at the ground.
"Set," Sekhmet murmured softly.
"Yeah, Sek?"
"You have always been his anchor," The lion goddess reminded him. "Be that for him now.”
Ra looked at both of them warmly.
"What?" Set asked, catching his grandfather's look.
"It is always a pleasure to see a tender moment from you two," Ra murmured of his enforcers.
Set rolled his eyes with a short laugh. Sekhmet and Ra boarded the camouflage Sun Ship to return to their duties, while Set walked over to his grandson.
Reaching out, Set tapped Percy under the chin, forcing him to look up. “Keep your chin up. Look me in the eye.”
Percy obeyed out of sheer muscle memory. He searched those familiar amber eyes. "You have Anubis. Why do you care so much about a random grandson?"
"I claim those who claim me," Set said firmly. "When Nephthys desired a son, Isis loaned her Osiris—hence their shared domains over the afterlife. But you are unique. You are of my direct bloodline, something Ra restricted for a very long time."
"So I'm completely immortal now?"
"Yes.”
Percy looked down at his hands, silent.
“Can I change it back?”
“No," Set said quietly. "But if you could... Would you really want to? You were never built for a normal life, Percy."
Percy didn't answer.
"Do you want to go back to the gym and spar it out?" Set offered.
Percy was tempted, but he shook his head. "I need to put in hours at camp before Chiron thinks I quit on him."
“I'll be at the gym all day if you change your mind. If you need anything, just say a prayer," Set promised. "You really are the only thing worth fighting for, precious prince.”
Percy let himself be pulled into a tight hug, leaning into his grandfather's shoulder. "I love you, Ace.”
"I love you too, kid."
Percy rode his superbike back to the storage facility far faster than usual, needing the adrenaline to clear his head. Keying open the unit, he didn't even freeze when he saw Hermes sitting casually on a workbench inside. "Well, that was a bizarre morning.”
Kicking his legs against the bench, the messenger god snorted. "Ares almost had me convinced. I was actually offended."
"What gave it away?" Percy asked, walking in to stow his gear.
"You mentioned your grandfather was visiting," Hermes said, hopping down to follow him. "Plus, I spotted the wall of framed photos General Grandpa keeps at his NYC headquarters.”
Percy smirked over his shoulder. "You should try calling him 'General Grandpa' to his face."
Hermes laughed. "Tricksters don't survive thousands of years by picking fights with the biggest muscle in the room."
Percy sighed, leaning against his bike. “This whole thing is a mess.”
“It could be much worse,” Hermes offered softly, stepping closer and pulling Percy into a brief, comforting hug. “Honestly? I’m thrilled you’ll be around forever. And your dad will be thrilled.”
The metal shutter of the storage unit rattled as a breeze blew down the corridor. Percy leaned back against the frame, the weight of the morning settling onto his shoulders. Hermes didn't step away after releasing him. Instead, the usual lighthearted grin faded from the messenger god's face, replaced by a focused intensity.
“He and Ace seem like a powder keg waiting to blow,” Percy noted.
“They're big boys,” Hermes insisted, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder. “They'll sort it out. You're worth the trouble.”
“I'd like to think if I ever start dating again," Percy teased, trying to lighten the mood, "You're all but top contender for first to know."
Percy turned around to lock up, but Hermes stepped into his space, pressing him back against the metal door. Hermes looked striking in his suit, his sharp blue eyes locking onto Percy's.
"What if I don't want to contend with anyone, Perseus?" Hermes whispered.
"Hermes..." Percy started, but the rest of his sentence was cut off as the messenger kissed him.
The kiss lingered for a long moment before Hermes finally pulled back just an inch, his thumb brushing Percy's cheek.
"I'll see you at the races tonight?" Hermes asked softly.
"Yeah," Percy agreed quietly.
"Good." Hermes' phone chimed in his pocket. "Duty calls."
With a flash of light, Hermes vanished. Percy stood alone in the quiet locker unit for a moment before testing his new divinity—focusing his mind and instantly teleporting himself straight into his room at the Big House.
Relief washed over him when Chiron walked by a minute later, mentioning that Hermes had already stopped by to explain the situation. Everything at camp was running smoothly. Percy let out a long breath—at least one part of his life was staying consistent.
Back on Mount Olympus, Zeus dragged Poseidon into the private courtyard of his palace before letting go. The storm brewing around Poseidon was terrifying, even by sea-god standards. Before Zeus could say another word, Poseidon turned and threw a heavy right hook, knocking the King of the Sky flat onto his back.
Zeus groaned, rubbing his jaw, but stayed seated on the marble floor. "You get one freebie," His brother said calmly, resting his arms over his knees. Understanding Poseidon's intense pride as a father, Zeus couldn't entirely blame him for being furious that an Egyptian god had spent years secretly training his favorite son.
"He is an arrogant bastard!" Poseidon fumed, pacing the courtyard.
"No argument there,” Zeus agreed.
"He took credit for raising him right out from under me!”
"You know our laws prohibit us from raising our demigod children directly," Zeus reminded him gently. "At least the boy is immortal now. You won't have to watch him age and pass away."
Poseidon stopped pacing, the reality of that truth settling over him. He took a deep, steadying breath, his stormy aura slowly receding.
"Where are you going now?" Zeus asked as Poseidon prepared to step through the Mist.
"To The Warlord's Tent."
Zeus shook his head with a faint sigh. "Good luck."
Poseidon materialized on the quiet street directly outside Set's high-end Manhattan gym. The heavy glass entrance was cool against the humid afternoon air. Inside, the rhythmic thud of punching bags echoed off concrete walls, surrounded by decades of fight memorabilia and framed photos tracking Percy's growth from a young boy into a young man.
The God of the Seas crossed the threshold, his ocean-green eyes fixing on every photo with quiet, mounting intensity. The smell of sea salt and ozone began to overwhelm the gym's scents of leather and floor wax.
When Set turned around from the back ring, the air between the two storm gods turned as taut as a bowstring. Neither moved an inch.
Set took in his visitor, his expression dropping slightly as he realized it wasn't Percy returning. He looked at Poseidon, then glanced around at the photos of Percy lining the walls.
“Fine, let’s get this over with,” Set snapped, stepping down from the ring. “Now that your baby brother isn’t here to protect you.”