Author's Note: Hello again.

EXTRA NOTE: This is turning up several days after the deadline as I had technical issues with uploading it.

As is seemingly now tradition, here is the first chapter of the latest instalment of Piece of Darkness being published on the first Friday of September! I hope y'all like it. And I hope the review count for this story is better than the last one.

As I am in university now, updates may be less frequent, not that any of you are baying for updates anyway.

The usual rules apply. Try to read previous books including Rise of the Forgotten if you want to understand everything. And review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson. All my fanfic writings are non-profit. 'Tis all for fun.


Piece of Darkness IV - Initiative


Chapter One


This thought led to a sudden, irrational fear. For a moment he felt the way you did when you suddenly realized you had swum out too far and the water was over your head. There was an intuitive flash. We're being drawn into something. Being picked and chosen. None of this is accidental. Are we all here yet?

Stephen King, 'It'


Never lose the initiative.

In any conflict situation, initiative is vital to victory. Perhaps the clearest example is chess. Here, initiative is the question of which player is responding, and which player is acting.

In conflict, you don't want to be responding. You need to be acting.

Initiative means the difference between success and failure - hell, between life and death. If you gain the initiative, hang onto it with everything you have. If you lose it, drag it back as fast and as hard as you can.

That's not all, though.

Being trapped in a position of defensive response is bad. Fatal. But not even realising it? Being totally unaware that your every move is being dictated by your opponent?

That's even worse.


The end of the world began on a cold, dark day in the middle of June.

The sky outside my bedroom window was an iron grey, like a sword dulled by too much blood. Dark clouds had reached the city a few days before, and since then the light of the sun had been kept from us, as though withheld by some celestial director.

And there was something else. The weather had an oppressive edge to it that was nothing to do with rain or sunshine. The clouds had brought with them an ominous atmosphere, as though they were the harbinger, or perhaps just the forewarning, of wicked things yet to come.

But that had to be my morbidly overactive imagination playing tricks on me.

I sat in my room, reading a book, now and then glancing out at the strange weather. I'd just returned from a visit to a friend: I'd gotten a lot better at dealing with normal human beings in the last few months. My time at a camp full of crazy demigods had done wonders for my people skills.

Now, as I looked up at the sky on this odd June day, I was thinking about Camp Half-Blood for the first time in weeks. I hadn't been back since December, nor had I felt any need to return. At first, when I'd stormed out of camp after a terminal argument with Zack Walker, I'd assumed I'd hear from Chiron again. I thought he'd send an emissary, just as he had the first time I'd left the demigod sanctuary, when Nico di Angelo had come to my home to guilt-trip me into coming back.

No-one had come. The months went by, and I was relieved as the span of days separated me from Camp Half-Blood. It was as though the whole melodramatic world of living Greek mythology had never even existed. By May, I was convinced that I would never hear anything from that world again. It was just a bad dream, painful for a moment but soon forgotten.

But today, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd been hasty in that judgement. I didn't know why, but I was filled with an instinct which had never been wrong before, an inner surety which told me that something was coming.

(It was only much later that I realised it was two years to the day since Nico had come on that guilt-tripping mission.

Talk about history repeating itself.)

And there was another thing. I had the odd feeling that I'd forgotten something, mislaid some crucial information amidst the madness. But I had no idea what, it was just a question without words at the edge of my mind.

So these were my thoughts, as I sat at the window. The apartment was quiet, with my dad working in the shop downstairs and my mom shut up in her study. I could hear only the formless rumbles of traffic in the street below, and the faint noises of people in the shop.

That calm made it easy to sense the approach of the Olympian.

I turned over a page, and felt a familiar tension form in my gut. It was abrupt and intense, the kind of feeling experienced when you find that a heavy object is, without warning, hurtling towards your head. It was also the pressure I felt when I was in the presence of a god.

I glanced around the room, shutting my book. There was a pressure at the back of my head, too, but not a headache. It was more like the uneasy sensation of running out of oxygen. I suddenly felt afraid. The terror of the unknown filled me as the tension in my gut worsened. I didn't know what was going on, and only the thought of the protective wards, installed on the apartment nearly two years before, kept me still.

And then, with a cold sharpness, I was certain that there was someone standing outside my bedroom. This wasn't even instinct. I knew something was about to step into the room. I stared at the door, trying to remember where I'd left my dagger. If a monster had come for me, my only choice would be to fight, but I didn't know where the damn weapon was—

I started to stand up, when the door swung open and Lady Hestia, goddess of the hearth, stepped into my bedroom.

I fell back in my chair, unease giving way to pure astonishment.

She strolled in, her appearance the same as when I'd first met her on Olympus. The ancient goddess looked no older than eleven or twelve, and her only remarkable features were her flame-eyes and powerful aura. Her arms swung at her sides, and her face was set in a calm expression.

Without her even touching it, the door swung shut. Hestia stopped, and stood very still, a few feet away from me.

"I apologise for the psychic intrusion," she said, in a contrite tone. "I realised that my unannounced arrival would greatly alarm you, and I sent a premonition of my coming into your mind."

I just stared at her. What the hell was she doing here? Had she come to make me work with the gods again? Was she going to threaten me? Or talk to me in that demure voice until I gave in out of pure embarrassment?

I'd heard of divine intervention, but this was ridiculous.

A dim sense of the need to be polite was the only coherent thought I could manage, and I muttered, "Uh. Hi. D'you want to sit down?"

Hestia inclined her head, and turned to reach under my bed. I would've been astonished that she knew the fold-up stool was under there, but I'd already passed the event horizon of disbelief. I just watched in confusion as she pulled the stool out, opened it, and sat down in front of me.

"What— why— what are you doing here?" I stammered.

Hestia's flame-eyes made it hard to read her expression, but she looked amused. She didn't say anything, just sat there, watching me. For some reason this confirmed my first thought - she was intervening on the gods' behalf, drawing me back into their world. Anger boiled up in me, and my unresolved rage with the Olympians reemerged before I could stop it.

"You're here to make me come back, aren't you? You and the rest of the gods have run into trouble, or something's gone wrong, and now you've come back to me because I'm the guy with the pure sight. You're here because of the goddamn prontos profiteia."

Hestia just eyed me.

"Hell, it doesn't matter who I am, does it? The only important thing is that I'm the guy standing in this spot at this moment. I'm the Lightbringer, the guy who got landed with the job. Well, I gave up the job. I don't want it. You hear me? I don't want it."

I came to an abrupt stop as I ran out of words, feeling unnerved. Hestia's expression hadn't changed throughout my tirade. She sat, completely still, watching me without a flicker of emotion. I shifted in my seat, and wondered if I'd just signed my own death warrant.

Then, to my surprise, the goddess bowed her head in a deferential nod.

"You are correct in what you say about my fellow Olympians," she murmured, without any hesitation in her tone. "It is true that they have no interest in you as Cyrus Wright, but are merely desirous of securing your help as the Lightbringer. It is for that reason, and no other, that they requested my help in convincing you to rejoin the fight against the son of Chaos."

I nodded angrily, but the fight was already fading out of me. It's tough to stay mad at someone who's agreeing with you.

"However, my interest in you is more complex that that," the goddess continued, meeting my gaze.

For the first time since she'd entered the room, I remembered the curious way Hestia had treated me when we'd met on Olympus. She'd spoken to me with familiarity, almost friendliness, which had made no sense at the time. So much had happened afterwards that I'd completely forgotten about it, until now.

"What are you talking about?"

Hestia began to speak, then stopped herself and looked away, searching for the words. I sat there, wondering, sensing the approaching revelation like an animal anticipating an earthquake.

"Have you ever seen your aura?"

The question surprised me, and though I knew the answer, I was slow in answering, "Uh. Yes. Nico showed me when we first met, about two years ago."

"Good," Hestia nodded. "There was something remarkable about it, was there not?"

I frowned as I thought back. I remembered my aura had been a shocking bright red, almost like an ethereal fire had wrapped itself around me. Nico had showed me the auras of other mortals, in comparison, and they were nothing like mine.

"Yeah," I said, unsure where this was headed. "Yeah, there was."

Hestia folded her arms. There was silence between us for a long moment before she spoke again.

"As you have seen, the children of the gods always have auras that are similar to those borne by their godly parents," she said, looking out the window. "Conventionally, blood relation is the only way a human can take on a godlike aura.

"There are, however, exceptions to that rule. Sometimes a god may wish, or have the need, to bestow a powerful aura upon a mortal. The most well-known instance is Artemis's Hunters. When they pledge allegiance to the goddess and join the Hunt, they gain her blessing and take on an aura far more powerful than their original one.

"Auras are far more important than most people realise. They are a reflection and an expression of a soul's power. As one's power grows, so one's aura develops, and if the aura gains new strength, one takes on new powers or abilities."

Hestia paused, tapping her chin with one small finger. The beginnings of understanding were stirring in the depths of my mind, but I waited, not wanting to make a false connection in my haste to learn the truth.

"Your distinctive aura is not merely a consequence of your pure sight," she said, looking at me directly. "It is, in fact, the result of your having received the blessing of an Olympian."

I blinked. This was something that had never even occurred to me, but it explained a lot. Perhaps it accounted for more than I could even imagine.

"And," I said, "which Olympian gave me their blessing?"

There was a tiny pause, and I could see Hestia considering how to answer my question. Then, without another word, she snapped her fingers, and both her aura and mine flared into life around us.

I'd already been able to see the goddess's aura, of course, but now it blazed with an almost blinding intensity. At the same time, I became aware of a flickering red light surrounding me from head to toe, and I looked down at myself in astonishment.

My aura was exactly the same colour as Hestia's. We looked like we'd been wrapped in flames from the same hearth. Even the movement was similar: both our auras swayed and flickered, reassuringly calm, even soothing, like a fire on a winter's night.

I looked up at Hestia, as my aura faded away. Disbelief filled me, even as understanding echoed through my mind.

"You," I breathed.

It was ridiculous, yet it explained all of it. My aura. The odd sense of connection I'd felt with Hestia. My curious, improbable survival when I'd fallen into the Sea of Chaos.

My mind raced as I linked everything together. I had no memory of Hestia placing this blessing on me, and I bet godly auras couldn't be handed out from a distance. This either meant that she'd done it when I was asleep at some point, or else when I was very, very young.

The world stopped, almost casually, as though it had just noticed something.

A conversation I'd had with my father two years ago, fell back into my mind.

I can tell you that, before you were born, your mother and I were visited by someone who told us how you had a fate that would be rather more colourful than most.

So this visitor was some magical female being. Was she a goddess? A spirit? A ghost?

I'd wondered about that question for so long, but I'd never expected the answer to just drop into my lap. I'd never expected the person who knew the full truth about me to just stroll into my room.

This was the secret that had been with me since I was born, and this was the goddess who'd been shaping my path since before I was born.

My gaze met Hestia's.

"You," I said again. "You were the Visitor. You're the one who told my parents what was going to happen to me."

Maybe I was imagining it, but I thought a look of relief passed over Hestia's face. She seemed happy that the moment of revelation had finally been reached.

"That's right," she nodded, smiling. "I learned of your fate, and of your close connection with the fortunes of us gods. I saw that it was essential to take some small but direct actions, in order to ensure your progress."

"My progress…" I echoed, feeling dazed. I'd known for a long time about this mysterious figure who was so closely acquainted with my future and my pure sight, but it was a whole different matter to be actually face-to-face with such a being. I felt as though a curtain had been pulled back, revealing complex workings which I'd never even imagined, but which were determining the course of my existence.

"But how?" I demanded. I needed some kind of context, a clarification of how this bizarre situation had come to pass. "How do you know all this about me? And how much do you know?"

"The first thing you must understand," Hestia replied, shifting in her seat, "is that I can't tell you what your future is. I have seen a great deal, more than I have told anyone, even your parents, but I cannot reveal all."

"Why?"

"I fear the consequences of a full disclosure. Great events hang in the balance. If I were to bring the future into the present by excessively acting upon or communicating what I know, I could cause things to take a drastic, unforeseen turn. I believe you mortals refer to this as the butterfly effect. I can, however, tell you about those things that have already transpired."

She paused, and reached into her jeans pocket. After a moment of rummaging, she withdrew a small black stone.

"This is a memory—" she began, but I cut her off.

"I know what it is." I stared at the piece of obsidian, irrationally fearful. Only one year ago, Jake Wilson had sat in this room with a similar piece of rock, and he'd shown me the terrible truth of his past. While Hestia's memory stone could not have anything so grim contained within it, I still felt unsettled by the prospect of delving into more stored recollections.

Hestia looked surprised by my reaction, but said nothing as she placed the obsidian on the table between us.

"How much do you know about the Second Titan War?" she asked, after a moment.

"Uh," I said, confused by the abrupt shift in topic. "Not a lot. Just some stories. The general outline, not many details."

The goddess nodded, and took a deep breath, as though bracing herself. She was silent for a long moment.

"Most say that Percy Jackson vanquished the Titan Lord Kronos," she said. "The reality was more complex. While Percy played a central role in the victory, Luke Castellan was the most important hero in the final conflict. He was serving as Kronos's host, but at the last moment before the Titan reclaimed his full powers, Luke regained control of his body and killed himself. He effectively destroyed the Lord of Time.

"The resulting explosion was massive, though not in a physical way. It shattered Kronos's consciousness into millions of tiny fragments, and for one brief moment, the force of the detonation tore a hole in the fabric of time itself."

"How do you know all this?"

"There were five people in the throne room of the gods at the final moment," Hestia said, with a wry smile. "Luke, Percy, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood, and the last Olympian. Me."

She placed one hand on the obsidian, and nodded at me to do the same. With a significant amount of trepidation, but a proportionate level of curiosity, I put my hand on the rock, and let myself fall into the past.


When my surroundings faded back into focus, I was even more startled than that time I'd found myself floating in mid-air next to Jake Wilson.

I'd never been in the throne room of the gods, but I still understood where I was. The place was in bad shape. A massive pile of rock and metal lay near the empty doorframe, and big chunks had been hacked off a number of the thrones. A fissure gaped in the marble floor, and patches of the tiles were improbably covered by fresh grass.

I looked around. I was standing with my back to a hearth, in which a few dull coals glowed, almost extinguished. A long, curved sword lay on them. Hestia stood a few feet away, watching me. The air around us was crackling with tension, as though an electrical storm was raging invisibly.

"Look," she murmured, pointing.

Annabeth Chase was sprawled on the ground near Athena's throne, with Grover Underwood, the satyr, by her side. Just in front of me, Percy Jackson and a tall, handsome but glowing man stood facing each other.

"Please," croaked the man - Luke - bent over in terrible pain. "No time." His hands were red-raw.

Percy stared at the son of Hermes, his expression unreadable. He held a dagger in his hands, Annabeth's dagger, ready to strike, but he wasn't moving. His gaze flickered back and forth between Luke and Annabeth, as his blue-green aura churned around him.

Then he moved, and offered the blade to the son of Hermes.

Grover yelped in alarm. Percy just stood there, scared but determined. He and I watched as Luke grasped the hilt and unlatched the side straps of his armour. As Luke exposed his single weak spot, just under his left arm, I remembered the story about how he'd bathed in the River Styx to gain invulnerability, before he'd become the Titan's host.

Breathing heavily, he stabbed himself - not deeply, but still he roared in awful agony. His eyes glowed, and the throne room began to shake. Percy was thrown to the floor, as Luke glowed brighter and brighter, the sheer power gaining intensity until it felt like the very air was about to go on fire—

The energy around the demigod exploded outwards in a terrible release of force, an earthquake of arcane force compressed into a few feet. The power of the Titan scattered out in the seismic blast, expelling from Luke's body in rippling golden rings as he crumpled onto the ground.

Hestia raised a hand as he hit the floor, and everything shifted into slow-motion.

"To everyone else, this moment was almost instantaneous," she told me. "We gods, however, are able to experience time more slowly when necessary. I did so here."

I heard movement behind us, and glanced around to see another Hestia emerge from the hearth. She ignored us, and stepped forward to watch the rings of power flying from Luke grow thicker and thicker. The explosion moved faster and faster, until finally a wall of power that reached right up to the cathedral-like ceiling burst from the demigod. He was raised a few feet into the air, then settled on the ground, as we were surrounded by golden light. Impenetrable, bright golden power, all around the two Hestia and me, blinding me. It exerted a physical, burning pressure, and my vision blurred as dizziness started to overwhelm me.

And then, in an instant, the light was replaced by hundreds, thousands of flickering images. All around us and above us, like a 360-degree cinema screen, countless pictures flashed before us in a storm of colour and movement. I stared around, unable to absorb the onslaught of visual information, caught in a sphere of unending data.

"These were all images of the future," Hestia said quietly, as her past self stared at everything, somehow taking it all in at once. "They cascaded through the hole in time, pouring into my mind in an instant. Many of them have already come to pass."

I didn't recognise any of it at first, but judging from how many of them showed battles with terrible, huge beings, I guessed they were of the Giant War. Then the flickering windows into the future started to show me, as detailed images of every significant mythological event I'd been involved in flashed before us. The whole story played out, showing my whole story, all the way up to my last argument at camp—

Right then, Hestia made an grasping gesture with her right hand, and the entire vision was snuffed out like a candle disappearing in a flurry of snow.


I blinked.

We were back in my room.

"I'm sorry to cut things off like that," Hestia told me, picking up the obsidian stone, "but I can show you no more. As I said, I can't reveal anything about your future."

I restrained myself from saying something sarcastic. Of course, it would be just too easy to find out the end of the story. Then I wouldn't get to enjoy the fun of suffering, worrying and trying not to die.

"So you saw all that?" I said instead.

"In a sense," Hestia replied. "In fact, I had a vision of the wars with the giants and with Tartarus that was even more complex and compressed than what I just showed you. What you saw there is a close approximation. Your mortal mind would be incapable of comprehending the true nature of what I experienced."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered.

I sat in silence, staring at the floor. I wasn't feeling any particular emotion, just the empty tiredness that accompanies an excessive amount of new information. It was all too much to take in. The idea that Hestia had seen across time itself and learned of the future was pretty staggering on its own. That she'd seen so much of my fate, and subsequently visited my parents because of that vision, was even more—

Wait a minute.

"Hold on," I said, looking up at her. "You saw all that when Kronos was destroyed. But that was, what? Four years ago? My parents said that they were visited before I was born." I leaned towards her, frowning. "How is that possible?"

Hestia looked unsurprised by my question. "I conferred with my fellow senior gods as soon as I had the opportunity. The walls of time were very fragile for some time after Kronos's defeat, and a great deal of residual Titanic power remained in the throne room of the gods even after he was gone. Zeus and I agreed that it was necessary to take advantage of those circumstances to influence the course of future events. Once the demigods had left Olympus, I was dispatched across the time stream to place my blessing on you."

She paused, looking away from me guiltily. "However, I had to do more. I went beyond my remit, and sent myself further back, to communicate some of what I knew to your parents. Perhaps it was a mistake, but I knew it was the right thing."

I thought I'd used up my disbelief quota for the day, but it turned out I was just getting started. "You travelled through time?"

"You mortals have such a fixed understanding of the fourth dimension," she shrugged. "Time is not so different from the other three. One can move up or down in time, just as one can move up or down in space. The problem is actually overcoming the way all beings are intrinsically bound to forward progression through time. That requires the correct circumstances and a significant amount of power, which were freely available in the aftermath of Kronos's defeat."

I shook my head. It was no wonder I'd never managed to work out this stuff by myself. Magic visions? Almost omniscient comprehension of the future? Time-travel? Who would have ever seen this coming?

"Well," I muttered. "Things can't get much crazier than this."