He was falling.

Dimly aware of the searing pain of his abdomen, the cold wind all blowing around him, roaring in his ears, the splattering blood blown away in a rippling streak of red, he knew that he was heading for the end.

If this was the sacrifice he had to make in order to maintain the balance of this world, it was worth it. He would endure this fate thousands of times for the justice of the unclaimed, the recognition of the abandoned, and the establishment of thrones of the disrespected.

Thrones.

A throne for his mother, in the golden and silver, marble-paved hall of the gods.

Finally recognised.

He vaguely remembered what caused him plunging to his death. The anguished cry of the Titan Lord of Time, Kronos over his betrayal. The flash of bronze as he attempted to vanquish the harbinger of imbalance by striking Kronos' neck. How the sword shattered. How the largest piece of Celestial bronze, sharp and deadly, ricocheted off against the impregnable Curse of Achilles towards him back. How it was embedded to his vulnerable abdomen.

His attempt was futile.

It was painful. A very unpleasant and tragic end for his… rather a heroic attempt to bring balance. One could have asked, what caused him to betray Kronos and his quest to destroy the Olympians and Mount Olympus?

Oh.

He remembered the pleading sea-green eyes, large and begging for him to reconsider his path. Saying that the scales will never be balanced if Kronos rise to rule the world. There will never be balance if the world was destroyed.

And he reconsidered, realising his mistake as the obvious truth almost knocked him over. Thus, he created his own path, treading along the way on his own. Alone. Without thinking, he had struck Luke Castellan, the host of the Titan lord, who bore the Curse of Achilles.

He will never forget the sea-green eyes, wide with horror, watching as he crumpled to the ground. The piece of his sword was jutted out of the middle of his abdomen.

The boy hastened to his side. He knew he had to make the boy promise. His mother must be honoured. The scale must be balanced at all cost. True success had always required sacrifice.

With what he believed with his dying breath, ragged and forced, he spoke. 'Deserve better… if only they just… had thrones –'

A chasm formed beneath him, a sign of Kronos' fury. He fell into oblivion.

The eyes were burnt into his memory. The eyes that he had unknowingly came to love so much. The eyes that he had wondered at the beauty of them, the prominent iridescent shades of sea-green. Smiling, he knew that the boy will fulfil his last wish.

For the sake of balance. He was a child of balance. His good eye brimmed with tears of joy and contentment as darkness crept from all corners.

Meanwhile,

Their battle was lost. Nemesis knew that the moment she saw the demigod Luke Castellan who hosted Kronos striking his vulnerable spot of the Achilles curse to destroy Kronos. And sacrificed himself in the process.

As she watched the Titan lord reduced to dust, she knew that any resistance was futile. The battle was at its end. The victorious Olympians burst through the gilded door of their Hall to find broken thrones and a few demigods who were now weeping for those who have fallen.

Too much grief. Too much sorrow. The air was heavy with despair. The scale was severely imbalanced.

And then she saw her son. Falling to his demise. She frowned.

His duty is not over yet, she decided, as she spread her wings and soared towards the falling unconscious boy.

Moments after,

Three old women, robed in white, were huddled together fulfilling their everyday task. Clotho straightened the particular thread of life with Lachesis determining its length with a rod. Above them was an image of boy wearing an eye patch, his good eye closed, his smile a display of contentment. Atropos was holding a rusty pair of scissors with her calloused yet wrinkled hands. As they prepare to cut the thread, they watched the scene changed in the image.

A blur of black and they saw Nemesis, the goddess of balance and revenge, carrying the boy away. Somehow, in the flickering image, Nemesis glanced at them. Beneath her war helmet, the goddess' face was a mixture of desperation and determination. The look on her face was as if she was about to say, don't you dare and adding a please at the end of her sentence.

Atropos glanced towards the other two. They had a silent argument for a moment, before she sighed and set her scissors down. 'Oh well,' she said. Her voice sounded raspy. Lachesis kept the thread of life away, a smile gracing her ancient face. 'He was such a sweet dear little baby when I first spun his thread of life, you know,' Clotho was saying as the other two looked on.

'Let's just give Nemesis a chance, shall we, sisters? A little more time,' Lachesis voiced out. The other two nodded, and they resumed their tasks.

No one tamper with the Fates, but of course, even the Fates themselves knew that there were souls that deserved to have their rightful ending on this world, written in their fates as well.

Fold a thousand orizuru and the crane will grant you every wish.

Seven year-old Ethan Nakamura was sitting on the carpeted floor, a stack of coloured papers arranged neatly near his feet. Several crumpled pieces were strewn on the floor but he was too busy concentrating on folding one between his spread-out legs. Pressing with his little palms, flatting out the creases, folding it back in; his hands and fingers were diligently finishing up the final touch to the origami.

'That makes nine hundred and ninety seven. And the paper cranes' left for me to make are…" his voice trailed off as he tried to silently count the remaining amount of paper cranes to make with his stubby fingers. 'Three more! I'm almost done, yeah!' he punched the air in delight. His cousin was still struggling to finish up another one. She grumbled, 'How did you even make it so quick, Ethan-kun?'

'Less talking, more folding,' he grinned widely. A silent thump, thump, thump of a set of footsteps was heard at the staircase, making its way towards them. 'Kids, what's up?' a deep voice said. Ethan's father chuckled as he caught sight of the horrible mess in the study room. He let his gaze swept around the room, his eyes settling on the ten boxes neatly arranged on one side of the wall, just under the window sill, shadowed by a pot of water with freshly-trimmed lilies.

'You're making a progress on the senbazuru, I can see that,' said Mr Nakamura, referring to the thousand folded cranes that grant wishes. Without being asked, Ethan walked up to his father, tugged at the hem of his shirt, and explained, 'One box has one hundred cranes.' His father nodded, noting how the cranes were arranged accordingly to their shades of colours in every box, held together by strands of threads. The last box; which Ethan was working on, was filled almost to the brim, displaying paper cranes with shades of green.

'Why do you take the trouble to arrange them like this?' Mr Nakamura chuckled, kneeling down and facing his only son. 'I liked them balanced,' he said, still smiling, perhaps giddy with excitement at the fact that he was close to finally have his wish realised. His soft hazel-coloured eyes were bright, and his father thought that the smile was a little something that was worth protecting.

'Balance.' Mr Nakamura froze on the spot. His gaze appeared distant, as if he was reminiscing something. His cousin, finally finishing her share of paper cranes, muttered, 'Nerdy loser.' Ethan stuck out his tongue at her.

Ethan was trembling. Noticing the sudden motion, his father looked at him. 'What's wrong, boy?' He fidgeted under his father's stern gaze. 'I can finally have my wishes granted, right?' he said, remembering the Japanese folklore about origami cranes or orizuru that his father had always told him as bedtime stories. His father nodded. 'What will you wish for, when the crane comes?'

Ethan looked at his feet. He wriggled his stubby toes. 'I want to meet Mother.'

His father's gaze darkened, and his eyes flashed menacingly. 'What did I told you about that rubbish again–'

His cousin suddenly piped up, 'You must never forget to wish for true love, too, Ethan-kun!' Giggling, Ethan shook his head at his cousin and trotted towards the middle of the room to resume his self-given task, leaving his father still kneeling on the floor. 'You have to!' his cousin was still saying. 'Shut it, silly!' Ethan laughed. Sighing at his son's utter denial, Mr Nakamura got up, propped one hand on the window sill and settled to look outside the window.

The dark sky was adorned by heavenly celestial bodies of mighty constellations and glittering stars. The moon was hidden in the midst of the grey clouds littering in the high heavens. A perfect night for such a wish. He wondered if the mystical crane will ever come tonight.

Ethan finished his last three paper cranes, occasionally stealing glances at his unmoving father, towering near him. He wondered what his father was thinking. 'Father?' he called for his father's attention. Mr Nakamura's gaze was still transfixed outside the window. He grunted, 'What?'

'What colour is this?' he asked, his hand fiddling with the last paper crane. His father turned around. 'It's the green shade of the sea.' With that, his father came towards him, patted his head, and made his way to the door.

'Oh,' Ethan nodded. 'I liked this colour.' He looked up, only to see his father was already gone. Standing up, he made his way to the boxes and went onto tie the strings of cranes to the window. His attempts proved worthless; he was not tall enough to reach the upper part of the window. Sighing, Ethan settled to just set the senbazuru on the lower sill. His cousin had accidentally fallen asleep on the floor, the weight of her head crumpling the paper crane that she had made just five minutes ago. He left her be and went to his bedroom. His father will surely be mad if he had known that Ethan was still wide awake by half past ten. So he thought he better go to sleep now, lest his father return.

As the clock struck midnight, after making sure that everyone had fallen asleep, Ethan (who actually have not even slept) sneaked outside his bedroom and made his way to the study room. Smiling in regard to the hard work he had spent many months tending to; making a thousand paper cranes, he knelt before the window, and let his gaze settled upon the stars. He clutched to the last paper crane he had made, for he was afraid of losing his wish.

He could not afford for that to happen.

He closed his eyes, and silently made a wish.

He had never met his mother. He had never catch a glimpse of her smiling down at him as he wake up in the morning, or comfort him during his sadness and grief, to tell him bedtime stories as he fall asleep.

But somehow, when the time deemed to be the most perfect one to make a wish, he felt reluctant to wish for his mother. His father had spent countless times told him about how his mother had never loved him, how she would never give even a second thought about him even if she was still alive. She had left him and his father for good. If he even has the chance to meet her, can he guarantee that she will even love him?

And so, taking a deep breath, he obliged to his silly cousin's remarks earlier that night.

He wished for true love. For an opportunity to love and be loved. For a love that can move mountains. For a love he has yet to experience. For someone he can share the love with.

And the stars obliged.

He opened his eyes and raised them to the sky, and almost caught sight of a dark silhouette of a winged creature, gracefully soaring through the high heavens.

He smiled.

Moments after,

Ethan smelt something burnt. He groggily opened his eyes and yawned widely. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw smoke outside the window of his bedroom. Pushing the covers away, he stretched his back. He realised that he had slept with something in his hands. The sea-green crane origami was still in his clutches; the wings were now slightly creased, perhaps due to the pressure of his hands when he had promptly fallen asleep the moment he reached his bed.

The sound of crackling fire caught his attention. He pushed the windows open and gaze outside. The sun has yet to rise. The dark sky was tinged with a hue of orange and pink at the far horizon. He looked down and a gasp escaped his throat. His eyes went wide with horror as he saw his father, of all people, stood aside the burning mound of boxes in the lawn.

His thousand folded cranes.

Stifling a cry down his throat, he stomped down the flight of stairs, burst through the door and rushed to the scene. 'No!' he screamed, even though if it was already too late. He pushed past his father who was standing before the fire wearing an unreadable expression upon his face, and tried to put out the fire with futile attempts of blowing out with his mouth and fanning the fire away with his little hands. So far, he had only managed to blow away the smoke and ignite the fire even more. The product of his hard work was reduced to ashes in a matter of minutes. He managed to save only one, a forest green-coloured paper crane. The threads were in tatters. Most were already charred and singed. Some were torn and blackened with soot.

Mr Nakamura shook his head at his son's unbelievable behaviour. He yanked Ethan's left arm away from the sizzling mound of ashes and crumpled papers, and dragged his son back inside the house. Ethan was still crying and screaming, all the while attempting to kick and thrash at his father while clutching the only orizuru survived. Two if the boy counted the sea-green one on his bed.

'You're evil! I hate you! I really hate you!' he practically screamed until his voice broke, and only stifled sobs were heard then, and the occasional sniffling and weeping.

Mr Nakamura just frowned.

He believed that his son's petty delusions might come to an end if he burned the so-called wish-granting senbazuru. He might even believe that the boy's foolish dreams were now too broken to be mended. He might even be afraid for the boy's mother to return had he not taken the precautious steps to destroy the symbolic wish-granting. To put it in words, the boy's mother was dangerous. He had to prevent the crane from coming. For all he knew, he had to protect his son.

Unbeknownst to both the father and the son, it was just a little too late. Ethan's wish has already been heard up the heavens.

Sitting on top of the fence surrounding the perimeter of the small two-storey house, she was unseen by any living soul. Dangling her boot-clad feet in the cold morning air, Nemesis watched as the scene unfolded, a smug smile decorating the revenge goddess' lips.

Ethan woke up with a start. His dream of the paper cranes was already dissipating, replaced with a burning feeling on his lower torso. His mouth tasted ashes. Groggily rubbing his good eye, he sat up on the comfortable bed, and took in the surrounding.

'Oh, you're awake.' A familiar voice said, penetrating through his thoughts as he stared blankly at the cosy bedroom that he just had no idea how he had gotten there. There was a fireplace at one corner, paintings of beautiful sceneries and a gilded window, adorned with a vase of chervil. Outside, the sun has risen. Someone sat by the side of the bed, creaking as it took on the extra weight, and handed him a flask of a concoction that he figured out as nectar, heavenly delicacy of the gods with healing properties. He took it appreciatively and took a swig. His head cleared a little. His limbs loosened and relaxed.

He looked to his right side and came eye to eyes with his mother. She was the same as she appeared in his dreams before. Beneath her steely demeanour (technically her war helmet), her wavy hair tousled past her shoulders, her scowl as if permanently carved upon her somewhat beautiful ageless face. Normally she would assume a form as someone you would want to wreck vengeance upon. But for Ethan, she had always appeared as his mother. Perks of being the revenge's child, he guessed. 'Oh gods, so I landed myself in Elysium,' he made a mental note of not to sound too happy at his newly-profound achievement.

'Oh, don't you have a high opinion of yourself,' Nemesis sneered and forcefully shoved the rim of the flask back inside Ethan's mouth. He yelped in surprise. 'What you did was heroic though, the gods had now decided to grant all the fallen heroic demigods from both side of the war a place in Elysium in accordance to the Jackson boy's wishes.' Ethan's eye widened at his mother's remark, a smile gracing his features. 'Really? But you said I'm not there yet. I feel like I am.'

'You're not dead, boy,' his mother sounded particularly bored, now handing him a piece of ambrosia, another godly food. He took a bite. It tasted mildly of apple pastry with green tea. 'I caught you mid-air, still falling, a thousand feet above the ground.'

Ethan's eye widened once more. 'You saved me?' The stern look that his mother had always worn softened, if only a bit. 'I believed you are not worthy enough to die just yet.'

'I'm dreaming,' he muttered, and received a well-given smack at the side of his head. 'Ouch, what was that for?' Nemesis sighed heavily, her eyebrows frowning. 'At least show some gratitude, boy.' He chuckled nervously, his right hand rubbing the sore pain at the side of his head. 'The war. Is it over yet?' he asked, noting that his mother was still clad in full battle regalia, her dark wings glittered menacingly at the side of his bed.

'Zeus offered amnesty to all of the gods who sided with Kronos,' she began, and noticed that her son was about to speak out. She cleared away his doubt, 'And yes, Kronos has been destroyed. That Castellan boy finally had some sense knocked to him, I supposed, striking out his Achilles' heel at the last second,' she continued, 'at his freaking left armpit, of all places he could have chosen.'

'Anyways, with his final wish and your supposedly final wish,' Nemesis watched Ethan's gaze dropped towards the window, 'the Jackson boy, finally favoured by the gods as the hero of the war, requested them to heed to the wishes of the fallen ones.' A smile tugged at the side of her face, and Ethan grinned widely as realisation hit him. 'You will have a throne at the Hall of the Gods?' There were eagerness and glee in his voice.

Nemesis nodded slightly. 'And a cabin in Camp Half-Blood,' she smiled, serenely so. That was strange of her. When she smiles, it usually came up as a sneer. 'I have made peace once again with the Olympians.' Ethan punched the air in delight. 'Yeah! Percy did it!' he squealed like an overgrown child, and in his fits of joy, he embraced his mother. Nemesis looked intrigued and, somehow touched, by her son's sudden gesture. Normally the goddess of revenge and balance would blast anyone who tried to hug her into smithereens.

She wondered whether she was worthy enough of this act of affection. She was never a great mother. She had made Ethan suffer so much. But still, she hugged back anyway. He needed his mother in this time of dire and need. Her battle armour clinked and clanked softly, almost inaudible in the embrace.

Ethan flinched, taking a sharp gasp. Nemesis broke the embrace. 'The wound will take time to heal. Celestial bronze are quite deadly, mind you,' she said. While Ethan laid his head on the fluffy pillow, Nemesis rolled the hem of his shirt up to reveal his bandaged lower torso, patches of blood staining it in spots. 'Ouch,' was all he muttered.

'So, Mother, why did you save me, really? I mean, apart from me being unworthy enough to die.' Ethan rolled his eye. Nemesis eyed his son, slightly annoyed at his constant bombardments of questions.

'Well, for your information, I have just returned from the council of the gods. I knew that the battle was lost, so turning in and surrender was perhaps the sensible thing to do, thinking that perhaps I will have my revenge afterwards. And then of course, I saw Kronos final rage unleashed shortly before his destruction and he formed a fissure underneath your fatally wounded body, causing your fall. I saved you right away.' She cupped his son's chin, and affectionately stroked the edge of his eye-patch with her thumb. Ethan wore a surprised look on his face. Being affectionate never seemed to fit in with his mother. 'I made you suffer so much. I took your left eye, because I knew you would bring honour to us 'minor' gods. The term minor does not even apply now due to you.'

'An eye was only a small price to pay, and I was willing and more than ready,' said Ethan, shrugging. 'It was rather a large price to pay, my son, considering that I am your mother, after what you've gone through in this war. I wouldn't even think twice when it comes to other people, but you are my son,' she averted her gaze to the window. The sun was rising, bursting with splashes of pink, orange and red. 'Curse that Aphrodite for intensifying the love in my dark and shrivelled heart,' she spat as Ethan chuckled.

'Anyways, shortly after leaving you all bandaged and rested here, still unconscious, I returned to Olympus. What I did not expect however, that the once arrogant and egoistic Olympians welcomed me in their arms. There were Morpheus, Hypnos and many other gods who had turned away from Mount Olympus to Kronos' side and the Titans before. Even Hades was there. I presumed he had always liked to hide inside his hole in the Underworld, sulking,' she sneered at the last word. Ethan smirked at his mother's sense of humour. 'In the hall, they offered us amnesty for our so-called treachery and invited us to join their council. Perhaps as a gesture of peace, for we were always disregarded before the war. Perhaps Zeus was afraid that we'll turn our backs against them again.

'Most of us obliged. I forgot my intention for revenge. It was all that I could wish for; being honoured. Hecate was the only one still fighting, unleashing her empousai and her army of monsters, manipulating the Mist in resistance, spurred by her foolish son who was urging her on,' she said, shaking her head. 'Alabaster,' Ethan muttered, his right eye wide with disbelief. 'Yes, that Torrington boy, her strongest child, the one with the most prominent abilities in magic.'

He remembered Alabaster, the child of the goddess of magic, Hecate, who was very close to Ethan during their struggle in the Titan's army. He remembered Alabaster's forest green eyes, how the sides of his captivating eyes crinkle when he smiles. Alabaster's handsome face, dotted with scattered freckles on his cheeks, his short-cropped brown hair, and how brazen his steely gaze was as he fight alongside Ethan, defying the Olympian gods.

'The Olympians threatened to destroy him. Hecate, well, the poor lass, many of her children had died during the war. In fact, amongst us the gods who have turned, her children were the ones who were killed the most. Not wanting more of her children to die, she gave up. The Olympians spared her child, of course, but they banished him from the lands of the gods. Into the ancient lands, so I've heard. A fitting punishment, I supposed.' Nemesis wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Ethan's gaze darkened. He wanted to criticize the Olympians' justice, but with all the good things happening, he kept his mouth shut, lest his mother would be disposed from the godly council as well if he does something foolish.

'All thanks to that boy Perseus Jackson, being all noble, turning down immortality, all the while requesting almost the impossible; honouring us, demanding thrones and cabins for us, demanding the release of the Titan Atlas' daughter, Calypso, from her banishment in Ogygia.' Ethan decided not to ask much about that. The information was still too much to process. 'What caught my interest was how he asked for all the gods to claim their demigod children the moment they turned thirteen. That was good, I supposed.' The goddess' gaze bore into the warmth of her son's hazel-tinted eye.

'That was beyond great, Mother!' Ethan squealed gleefully, and Nemesis almost thought; adorably. He was practically jumping up and down on his bed while laying down (took a lot of effort for him to do that), finally wincing as the pain of his wound took hold. His grinning face warms the coldness of her heart. Ethan, on the other hand, was so excited, he wanted to meet Percy as soon as he could and express his heartfelt gratitude.

'There was another thing. Your dream. Just before you woke up,' Nemesis looked at her son expectantly. 'H – How did you know?' Ethan stuttered. Nemesis rolled her eyes. 'I'm a goddess, in case you haven't noticed, and your own mother at that. What's more, you were unconscious for a day and a half.' Ethan was silent, his gaze averted to the cream-coloured ceiling above him. 'I saw it happen, sweetheart,' she said before smacking his head once again as he stared at her incredulously at the affectionate words. She did not think there was anything wrong with the word 'sweetheart'. She is a mother after all, even if she is the goddess of revenge.

'Humph. How's Father by the way, if you knew anything about him?' asked Ethan sarcastically, rubbing the side of his head. His mother quietly said, 'You may never know nor realise this, but I never stop watching you since I gave you away to your father.' Ethan brought himself to look at his mother. Without warning, a single tear glistened on his eyelids. He blinked, and the tear rolled down, forming a glistening streak across his red flushed cheek. Frustrated, he wiped the stupid the tear away. The nightmare was traumatic enough. He pouted. 'It's a stupid dream, nothing more.'

His mother took his right hand. Two orizurus appeared on his palm. The sea-green one that he had clutched when he was little, making a wish by the window, and the forest green one that had survived the fire.

'I am the goddess of balance, vengeance and retribution. I ensure the scales to be balanced. You,' she jabbed her index finger at his chest, 'are a child of balance. And yet you are severely imbalanced. It will be a shame to you and an embarrassment to me.' She shook her head mockingly.

'Your wish was heard long before your father set the senbazuru to fire. So, find balance for your own soul, carry out your duty to provide balance to all,' she paused as she smiled, before continuing, 'and search for true love along the way. It is your wish after all,' she stooped low, and her lips met Ethan's forehead. He shivered at the touch. 'You have my blessings, my son.'

She stood up and spread her great dark wings. Her sneer of a smile graced her face once more as she whirled out of sight into gods-know-where, disappearing in a gust of wind and twirling feathers. Ethan's head felt dizzy. His eyelids were now heavy, demanding to be closed. He obliged, and drifted to sleep.

The last things he heard before losing consciousness were the billowing of the cold winter wind and the rustling of leaves.

Author's Note: Greetings and welcome to anyone who is lucky enough to stumble upon this first attempted spin-off tale of mine. Note that I had always adore Ethan, so you really don't have to mind a bit if he was given another fair chance to live and have true love. It's a fanfic, after all. And the characters' points of views varies, shifts and changes throughout this story without any significant sign or warning, just a note to you, that's all. *says to self, 'here goes nothing!'

For those who didn't have this story in their favour, well, who asked you to read it in the first place?

For those who's interested in 'do-you-know's:

Orizuru is a folded origami crane, while senbazuru refers to a thousand folded ones. The Japanese folklore has it that anyone who folded senbazuru will be granted a wish by a crane.

One might wonder if Nemesis is ever winged, but according to several depictions of her in the artefacts of Ancient Greece, she did have wings. To spread vengeance perhaps?

Reviews are more than welcomed. Hope you enjoyed reading!

Sincerely, Hecate.

Disclaimer: All rights reserved of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians and the Heroes of Olympus series belongs rightfully to Rick Riordan. The rest of the plot and any significant else are all specifically mine.