INT. COMMONS
Clang! The harsh cry of metal against metal echoed throughout the room, but its inhabitants barely blinked in shock, blasé at the sight, for they had long been accustomed to it.
Sea green eyes flashed a sudden deep velvet purple and the room began to tremble. Furniture rattled in alarm and all eyes snapped to its source, yet not budging and inch with fear or even surprise.
A bronze sword was thrust with deadly precision, so quick it left an afterimage upon the watching eyes. Just as quickly, an arc of gold intercepted it, the swinging of an Imperial Gold sword, catching the Celestial Bronze one on its blade before it could do any harm.
Blue eyes narrowed in concentration, and for a split second, likewise, transitioned into a dark shade of purple. This time, a loud crackle was heard, and eyes turned to the gold sword— Ivlivs, it was called— which sparked with electricity, prickling hair on skin.
Simultaneously both tapped their wrist watch and glowed with an ethereal silver. Guard on. The monotonous voice wasn't heard beyond the minds of the users, but watchers understood nonetheless. The sight was greeted by several eye rolls, while some others continued watching, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation.
A jab to the side, a feint, was immediately followed by dodges, lunges and spins too brisk for a mortal eye to comprehend. Immortal eyes blessed with Patron's enhanced eye sights tracked the movements, unmoving and shrewd. A roll, a leap, a thrust and a twist of luck. Just as suddenly as it began, it was ended.
The swords were converted to their non-lethal forms, a capped pen and a gold coin respectively, and slipped into pockets before the two warriors turned to each other and bowed, decorum for fighting with allies.
Appreciative whistles met the end of the match and genuine pleasantries were made. The two warriors companionably shook hands and exchanged congratulations with much uninhibited ebullience. Hands shot up and offers to spar each other were roused, and an amiable chatter rose comfortably, suffusing the atmosphere with a gentle friendliness and comfort.
To a corner, mist gathered silently, pooling together and forming a humanoid shape in the blink of an eye. The warriors turned, bowing respectfully as the mist solidified, revealing a lady.
Her hair was as black as night, woven out of pure emptiness. Her skin was milky and flawless, and she glowed with a powerful radiance. If the on looking warriors had not been immortal, they'd have been incinerated where they stood. Her eye shone steadily with a dark velvet purple as she surveyed the warriors.
"Lady Chaos," the warriors greeted together, a harmony of respectful voices. Their eyes glinted purple, unconsciously reflecting the deity.
The beautiful deity nodded, her rosy lips upturned into a smile that disappeared after a brief moment. "Warriors, I trust that you know why I am here. It's time."
Each and every individual gasped internally, but masked their shock with a reticent front and nodded unanimously. They hadn't expected the attack to happen this soon. Nevertheless, they were prepared. After all, they were the Protogenoi Warriors.
INT. OLYMPUS
"The Protogenoi are waking. They want to avenge their sister Gaea." Hermes reported to the gathered gods and demigods. "The Fates have decreed that we will fail without the help of… several heroes."
Collective whispers disseminated throughout the throne room, all reflecting grimness void of surprise. They had known that eventually, the Primordials would follow their sister and wake, and that more heroes would be sacrificed for "greater good". And right after they succeed in defeating the Primordials for Olympus, down to Tartarus they go.
Annabeth glared at her mother with an intensity that only immortals could manage. Athena had been the one who had first insinuated that many heroes such as Percy, Thalia and Nico were too powerful and too much of a "loose cannon" who could turn against Olympus any minute. Nevermind that they saved Olympus twice.
As a result, the Council had come to a vote, and out of the fourteen major deities, eight had voted for the heroes to be sent to Tartarus. The Olympians were sure a grateful lot.
"And not just any hero," Hermes continued after the chatter had subsided. His tone was dark, melancholic. "We need the fallen heroes. That includes Percy Jackson, Thalia Grace, Nico di Angelo… and Luke Castellan, among others." His voice broke, and anguish splayed across his features.
Annabeth heart sank. It was a fallacy that time was able to heal all wounds. It had been over two hundred years since they had been… gone, and Annabeth's heart still broke a little every time. But this time, it didn't matter, because they were utterly doomed.
This time, the voices of the gathered crowd burgeoned and could not been subdued. Above, lightning streaked across a cloudless sky, a testimony of Zeus' purgatory. Miles away, waves angrily pummeled pristine white beaches and the earth rumbled with unmasked displeasure.
A flash of brilliance interrupted the commotion, stunning the crowd into silence. As the remnants of the blinding glow ebbed away, seventeen figures were revealed. Six figures stood tall, radiating pure power and importance. It hurt to look at them even in their human-sized forms, and Annabeth was an immortal. They looked as if they had been knitted out of the fabric of the universe itself, which in a way was actually true. Annabeth knew at once that they were the Primordials, the First-Borns, children of Chaos.
Behind each Primordial stood at most two masked figures, their faces hidden by celestial silver masks that glowed with power that seemed almost insipid next to the Protogenoi. Yet it was irrefutable that the wearers were powerful, perhaps even more so than the gods and right up there with the Titans.
Each wore a dark purple cloak embroidered with a gold crest, symbol of something called "Protogenoi Warriors".
Zeus rose from his seat, bowing in grudging respect. The other deities and demigods followed suit, though many were greatly flummoxed. Some, like Annabeth, recognized the Primordials, but thought that they were enemies. Weren't they supposed to be fighting against Olympus?
'Lord Erebus, lord Aether, lady Thalassa, lady Nyx, lord Chronos and lady Hemera," Zeus greeted, spieling the names in recognition. Then again, they were family. An eternally messy, angry, bitter family.
The Primordials nodded in acknowledgement, gesturing for everyone to return to their seats. The leading one — Erebus was it?— spoke up once the quiet rustling had subsided as the crowd reclaimed their seats and eyes zeroed in on the visiting deities.
"In this war my brothers and sisters wage against you, you will undoubtedly fail without our help." He began, surveying the faces of Olympus, his voice leaden with authority.
"Hey, are you implying that we are incompetent?" Ares demanded like a petulant child, glaring at the Primordial of darkness.
"Silence!" Zeus thundered, much to Ares' chagrin.
But Erebus looked straight into Ares' eyes, powerful purple orbs meeting swirling crimson ones. Ares gulped, and looked away, uncharacteristically showing fear. "Yes."
Erebus turned back to everyone, dismissing Ares with a wave of his hand. "You need our help. Each of us have at least a captain with an impeccably trained army serving under us. Many of whom you'll recognize as fallen heroes or ones you've casted off the surface of Gaea in your fear." His voice was distasteful, as if he was beyond disgusted with the Olympians' behavior.
Annabeth's heart lurched. Percy, Nico and Thalia! They were in the armies, they must be. Her pulse quickened, and she watched the Primordial with bated breath, but he said nothing more, engendering her sigh of disappointment.
Instead, a different Primordial stepped forward, Aether, Protogenos of Light. "These are my captains. Andromeda, and Javier [Jason]." The two captains bowed, and for a moment, their eyes glowed purple as they turned to face the crowd. Annabeth couldn't help but think she should recognize them, the name Andromeda ringing a dim bell. A fallen hero from camp, perhaps?
Bit by bit, each Primordial introduced his or her captains:
Thalassa, Primordial of the Seas had Franklin [Frank] and Peter [Percy].
Nyx, Primordial of the Night had Tara [Thalia] and Brianna [Bianca].
Hemera, Primordial of the Day had Renee [Reyna] and Zia [Zoe].
Chronos, Primordial of Time had Lance [Luke].
Finally, Erebus moved forward, his captains flanking him. "These are Nikolai [Nico] and Haley [Hazel]. And they are the Protogenoi Warriors."
INT. COMMONS
"Did you see their faces?" cackled a dark hair Italian boy as he relived the experience of finally re-entering the throne room of Olympus.
It had been over two hundred years since he'd last visited, at least according to time on earth. Back home, it had been barely a decade. Still, he didn't look a day over fifteen. He hadn't quite forgiven Olympus, who had deemed in necessary to send him to Tartarus, but their expressions had been priceless.
Thalia rolled her eyes at the younger boy's zeal, though she, like him, didn't look much older than fifteen either. Her own demeanor, on the other hand, displayed displeasure.
Being sent to Tartarus wasn't something that could be overlooked so easily, and Thalia wasn't too keen to overlook it, even if two hundred years have passed since then for them.
Percy high-fived Nico, whooping in delight. "Yeah they were so awestruck when they saw us. It was hilarious."
He, like his cousins, had yet to forgive the gods for what they'd done. He still had nightmares imbued by his time in Tartarus, though his Patron, Thalassa, Protogenos of Seas had done much to subdue it as much as she could.
Hazel and Frank were enjoying a private moment in the midst of all the rambunctious chatter that filled the room. Jason and Reyna laughingly reminisced about their past for they had recognized several of their old friends. Zoe and Bianca were challenged each other to archery contests, fairly overwhelmed with enthusiasm after seeing Artemis.
Silently, Luke sat in one corner, absorbed in the recent events. A plethora of ambivalent emotions bombarded him, and he couldn't really decide what to feel. The last time he had been on Olympus, he had died, sacrificing himself to save the world from Kronos' wrath.
An Asian teenage girl who looked about fifteen sat down next to Luke, her beautiful inherited gold eyes twinkling with unspoken empathy. She too, had died that day fighting for the gods. But unlike Luke, she was never recognized for what she had done.
Luke felt like a jerk next to her. He had repudiated his family, but when he made his final right decision, he got hailed as a hero, forever etched in the memories of all existing demigods and all demigods to come. On the other hand, she never made a bad choice like he had, and had chosen to fight for Olympus till the end, yet everyone had let her fade into the forgotten.
"Hey," she— Anna— said. "It's odd isn't it?" She met his gaze, her gold eyes shining with sadness.
Luke's heart clenched. Here he was, being maudlin about his situation when someone else had it so much worst. Anna blinked, her gold eyes flickering. Belatedly, Luke wondered if she had been crying.
Anna was Apollo's daughter. Growing up, she had been bullied by kids at her school for her race and her unmatching eye color. She'd lost her mother when she was barely seven, and was bludgeoned into joining an orphanage where the bullying intensified.
She never stayed at one place for more than four months, unwanted and alone. Anna wasn't too enthusiastic to share what she had been through, but from what Luke could gather, most of her foster parents had been abusive.
And Apollo never cared. He had never indirectly provided assistance to her, never helped her when she was broken and bleeding
Sure, the gods weren't exactly the caring and loving type, but Apollo took the cake for the 'Worst Parent of the Century'. At least Hermes had cared. He'd loved Luke, even if he wasn't allowed to show it. Percy had described to Luke how Hermes had reacted to Luke's death, and for once, Luke had felt… loved.
As for Apollo? Other than claiming Anna, he'd made zero contact with his progeny. There was no acknowledgement of her existence at all. Yet she never turned against the Olympians. The thought probably never even crossed her mind.
Across the room, Percy had picked up Riptide and was swinging it around experimentally before attacking a practice dummy. The happy moment hadn't lasted, as reality finally sunk into the minds of the three cousins. They were going to fight for the people of deemed it right to send them to Tartarus for something they didn't even do.
In fact, no one seemed pleased about that. Many were angry on the trio's behalf, but each harbored their own individual resentment against their parents for being generally lousy parents.
These next few years weren't going to be pleasant.