Crumple Up the Moon
It was as if they'd dangled the moon in front of him-
and then blown it up in his face.
Disclaimers
PJO belongs to Rick Riordan, the creator of this wonderful world. (This wonderful world being the PJO books.) Mallory, Warren, and most of the other Norse demigods belong to me. Gamle-Sti belongs to me as well. Satsuki Kusakabe belongs to a friend of mine, used with her permission. Percy and all other canon characters belong to, again, Rick Riordan.
The flames belong to whoever sets the fires.
A Pre-Thing
For those of you who are put off by OC stories, this is the time to leave. Most characters in this story are from my own head, although that makes me feel strangely like Zeus. For those of you who are put off by stories of demigods from other pantheons, this is the time to leave. While Percy and other canons will be in this fic, the Greek demigods are not the focus, and the author may write biased against them.
This fanfiction is the sequel to another one, Come Hel or High Water. If you haven't read it, it is strongly advised that you do so; otherwise you may not know what's going on.
For those of you who are here to enjoy my writing, go on. And please leave a review with some constructive criticism.
-The Author
--
Before
Gamle-Sti was peaceful that morning.
It was warm; July tended to have that effect on weather. If you weren't in Brazil, I mean. The beach was covered with the plastic flotsam of young demigods, who were currently trooping back to their settlements with towels slung about their necks, ignoring the utter dampness of their bathing suits. Lizards sat sunning themselves outside the office window, and somewhere a bird chirruped serenely. The flowers Corinne had decided to plant back in March were scattered throughout the entire grounds. I didn't know what they were called - why would I? - but even I had to admit they were beautiful.
Hel, even Sierra said they were pretty.
"Damn, these flowers are pretty," Sierra said resignedly, as she pushed open the office door. In her arms she cradled two long flowerpots, both filled with white narcissus.
From my seat in the swivel chair besides the window I turned, a little surprised. "Oh, hey, Sie-"
She pushed past me without so much as an "excuse me" to place them carefully on the windowsill. The tiny green geckoes on the outside sill scattered.
"Cory's coming in later," she said shortly, not looking at me. "She says she's experimenting with the white flower things-"
"-they're called narcissus, Sierra, even I know that-"
"-whatever the Hel they're called. I would personally rather burn them to a crisp than put them on windowsills, but the hippy children like them and I would wake up with poison ivy in my bed if I tried." She gave me a look as if to say it was all my fault that the children of Idun were so obsessed with foliage. Totally ignoring, of course, the fact that I could no more help what the gods were the gods of than I could have helped-
"Anyway, the Hippy Queen herself is heading over here soon. She has to ferry the small things into their places and then she'll be in." Sierra gave me another fierce, burning green-eyed look and stalked back towards the door. "Is there anything else I can be getting your highness?"
I paused. Then, tentatively, "... can I have a Monster?"
The look she gave me this time was more amused and exasperated than really angry. "Tyrsson, the day I bring you a Monster is the day that Svafnir comes back from the otherworldly province of Wherever the Hel Dead Monsters Go Before Respawn," she replied, and the door slammed shut.
I groaned. Sierra in a bad mood was the last thing I needed right now.
Using my feet, I dragged the swivel chair back to its proper place by the window and glanced out. Over the gaudy narcissus the lizards were slowly beginning to return; the distant beach was swarming with older demigods picking up after the little kids. But something was missing - something that had been there before Sierra's untimely storm.
Whatever it was, it wasn't coming back.
I sighed - bye, moment, catch you later - and shoved myself out of the swivel chair with probably a bit more force than necessary. It shot backwards, slamming into the wall behind me and almost knocking off a framed painting. I made a few cautious steps towards it, assuring myself that no, it would not actually fall - one of the Frey boys would be pissed if it ripped, and I'd probably spend the next couple of weeks trying not to get killed by corn – and it really didn't fall.
Which was good.
I ran a hand through my hair, making it look more like a brown owl on defensive instead of real hair, and exhaled loudly.
It was July, and I was still alive.
But Mallory Moore wasn't.
It was six months after I'd first left Gamle-Sti to travel to Washington, expecting a Norse demigod or demigoddess. We'd noticed the Brood—that is, the horde of Norse monsters that seemed to have a taste for Norse demigods—moving in that direction, collecting especially around Seattle.
I'd been sent, by popular vote of the council, to Seattle to track down this demigod and get them back to camp. I expected just another demigod to snag and take home, but I was not so lucky.
Instead, I got Mallory.
She was amusing, witty, sarcastic, and when you thought about how she joked in those last few minutes when she was dying, you could term her an optimist. Like most Norse demigods she was pretty, if you thought about it much, but I'd been surrounded by half-immortal girls for long enough that it didn't quite register anymore.
And now she was dead.
I heaved another sigh, blowing a strand of auburn hair out of my face, and stared out of the window again. She might not have liked it here. It was too bright for her tastes, I'd bet—she being the daughter of Hel.
I wondered if she was okay.
I wondered if she remembered me.
And, as I'd done hundreds of times over the past months, I wondered what Hel's words had meant, when she visited me that last time—remember the lightest.
The lightest what? The lightest of what? What was I supposed to remember?
I felt a sudden vibration in my back pocket and fished out a black cell phone. I slid it open.
"Hello?"
"WARREN TYRSSON YOUR ASS IS GRASS."
I almost dropped the phone. Well, actually, I did drop the phone. And this time I was more careful in picking it up, by checking the caller ID.
It was Satsuki Kusakabe, female Heimdall representative on the Gamle-Sti council.
Oh shi—
"I know, I know, I know," I tried to reassure her, but the beast would not be consoled. As I hurried out of the office and down the hall, she continued to shriek at me about morals and obligations and how she was going to kill me with fortune cookies.
"SHARP-EDGED FORTUNE COOKIES, TYRSSON!" she shrilled, as I stumbled out of the house we'd had built that March. "I WILL BUILD A TRANSFORMER OUT OF THEM AND KILL YOU. GET YOUR GRASSY ASS OVER HERE BEFORE I SET OPTIMUS ON YOU."
"Who the Hel is Optimus?"
"Jack."
"… who's Jack?"
"… dead men tell no tales, Tyrsson."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"YOUR FACE DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!"
And she hung up.
I stared at the phone in disbelief for a moment and shook my head, then put it back into my pocket.
I went around in a circle to the back of the house, where there was a pair of double-doors set into the ground. The guy we'd had build the house had looked at us funny when we asked for a storm cellar, but then Satsuki had looked at him funny and he'd shut up.
Satsuki was a scary person.
I slid the bolt from the storm doors and pulled them open, not without some effort. Those things were heavy. I could see the light on below and a circular table, around which were seated fifteen or so people.
I was late.
I stepped down through the doors, closing them behind me and almost hitting my head. A few people at the table turned to stare at me as I arrived.
And a particular girl—with short black hair covering one powder-blue eye—was glowering at me.
"Optimusss," she hissed threateningly, and the boy beside her (almost identical except for the fact that his eyes were purple and both visible) rolled his eyes.
"I think we all know she's crazy," Odd Hale said lazily, leaning back in the swivel chair and propping his boots up on the table. "Ignore her, Tyrsson."
I saluted mockingly and took my seat next to Peaseblossom, my sister. "Where're Hope and Jax?"
"The bubblies? Probably having a hippie festival on the shore," Sierra said disinterestedly. "They didn't feel like coming to our council."
"Is anyone else not here?"
"Anthony from Thor's not here, and Scorpius isn't either," Sierra went on. "He said something about watching the radar. Monica's with him."
Reese Dane held up his hands in an "I surrender" motion when I looked at him. "Hey, I'm not responsible for what she does," he said, blinking his eyes in a perfect Frey look. I rubbed my temples.
"Anyway. What are we discussing this time?"
Pease stood up, motioned to Reese. He reached for the projector in the middle of the table and flipped it on. At the same time, Sierra reached for the lightswitch and turned it off.
An image of the Wisconsin coastline was projected onto the wall, with a number of pale blue-white dots covering the coastline near our camp—at the junction between Michigan and Wisconsin. I frowned.
"Giants," Pease said solemnly, and placed her hands on the table. "These dots are all giants. There are sixteen of them. I counted, with help from Reese and Anthony. That's what Scorpius and Monica are observing right now. The Brood isn't all we have to worry about anymore."
"Ragnarok is coming," Odd said seriously, and half of those seated at the table turned to look at him. "The gods have reawakened. The Brood is returning. And now… the giants. Who knows how long it'll be until Fenrir breaks free? Until Skoll and Mati return? Until the skies go dark and everything is… gone…"
There was a pause, and then I said firmly, "We'll do everything in our power to never let that happen."
"By fighting giants and monsters that just come back later anyway?" Odd sighed. "We can't stop Ragnarok. It will happen. We can't stop it."
"But we can try."
We were quiet for a moment more, and then the silence was broken by a scream.
I—and most of the others—leapt to my feet, staring at the storm cellar doors. There was a scrabbling noise on the other side as someone pulled the bolt back, and then Corinne Holt, daughter of Idun, threw the doors open and stared inside. Her green eyes were wide and panicked.
"Giants on the coastline!"
