I hear the quiet breathing coming from the bed next to mine. Or perhaps the correct way to put it would be the bed next to the one I shared with Luke Castellan. Despite my protests, I know that he is still struggling. I know that Ethan has guessed, as well.
I know also that we will win, when the sun comes up tomorrow, shining on the city that has been a battlefield. My forces are strong and large, trained and powerful, monstrous in their appearance as well as their prowess.
Meanwhile, Jackson's forces consist of only a handful of children. They are tired and dirty. Never before have they seen war. They have never fought with the blood thirst, the desire for vengeance, the very evilness that my forces will fight with. In black and white, I will win. In theory, I will win. On paper, I will win. In all reality, I will win.
In this small berth, I ponder over why I want this victory. The answer eludes me. What is it that causes humans—those ineffectual, insufficient creatures—to hand glory over to others? It certainly does not exist in me. I will never feel the need to give up what is mine.
Do I feel that I can do a better job with running the world than the gods? Yes, my automatic response is. But tonight, I allow myself to really think of the answer. Can I run the world better than my children and grandchildren?
"No," I whisper, so quietly that I doubt the guard in the next bed even heard me. I cannot do it. I cannot honestly say that I can do better that which the gods have not yet managed to accomplish. Certainly, I can turn the world back to darkness, the darkness that will shroud life for all other than me. But is that what I really want?
No, I think again. I want to turn this time back to some other…I think. But before I can explore any farther the deepest corners of my mind, the sun comes up and the hardness returns.
I will win today. I know that this will happen. My army will fight—much better than that of Perseus Jackson's. His army has something that my army lacks. I do not understand what it is, except that it is a weakness. I will win this battle, this fight, this war. I will win back what was taken from me millennia ago. I shall defeat the meager forces that oppose me, and tomorrow as Apollo lowers his chariot, the sun shall set on the age of the gods. The reign of Kronos shall begin again, and the world will be thrown in the darkness that I know is right.
The fight is over. Luke…I can feel him taking over. He knows how to lose. My forces have been defeated, I can foresee.
But why? My mind screams. My forces were so much more powerful. I should have won. I should have won. I should have won.
But why didn't I? What is it that caused these half-breeds to win? Why did I lose? Why did Luke win? Why did Jackson?
My mind is plagued with questions, now, in the final moments. I cannot fight against three—Jackson, Luke, and my own self, and my swordwork declines. Jackson cannot beat me; I know too much. But now that my skill is a little closer to his, he finds it easier to battle me.
I gasp sharply. Luke's mind is struggling against my own. Like a match, struggling to light a candle, he wins, flicker by flicker. These are truly my last moments. I cannot win against him, and now I see that I can't win against Percy Jackson.
Once again, my mind screams. WHY? Why did I not win this battle? What did my army lack? What did I lack?
The satyr tries to block Perseus. I push him out of the way, and he lands against brick. Jackson's face is filled with concern, and I wonder why. This is war. He throws a desperate glance at the girl, but the desperation is not for himself. It is for her.
The girl says something, but I can't understand what. I can feel myself answer—no, it is Luke who answers.
Something in him is powerful enough to overtake me. But what?
There is darkness, a startling sign that fate had finally found me. There is blackness surrounding my vision, and I can't see anything now, save a blinding light. Luke is still there. I am not. But desperately, I want the answer to my question.
And then I get it. It is simple. It is in the way humans could pass on glory to the new generations. It is in the words Jackson spoke to his army. It is in the way the gods united to fight me. It is in the way that daughter of Aphrodite sacrificed her life. It is in the way Ethan tried to fight me. It is in the concern for the satyr and the girl in Jackson. It is why he didn't fall to me.
It was in the way Luke won over me.
It is what I foolishly considered weakness.
It is simple, and it is the only thing I lack.
It is humanity.
I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
Kudos to anyone who finds the Linkin Park lyric.