"Our tale begins with two mortals, Themedis and Ophronys," Poseidon began. "Sons of Zeus and Poseidon respectively, though both born from the same womb."

At his son's astonishment, Poseidon chuckled. "Yes," he said in-between laughs. "I was quite as surprised as you were when I found out, though my reaction was much more volatile. In our combined anger, Zeus and I took retribution for the insult by flooding the village with a storm so powerful that it could be felt all throughout Greece. We were young then, reckless, and just barely growing into our newfound powers and territory. In hindsight, when reflecting on the matter now, I can now see that I may have overreacted a tad."

Poseidon continued. "Curiously enough, after taming our anger and surveying the damage we had done, your uncle and I took note of something odd. Both children, Themedis and Oprhonys, had survived the attack. Where every single man, woman, and child had been washed away by the storm, these two, mere babes, had survived. Unscathed, to boot. After that, we knew they were destined for greatness" he explained.

Perseus was listening with rapt attention as he told his tale. His eyes were curious and unjudging, simply content to hear an old man tell his life experiences. For that reason and that reason alone, he continued on.

"In the coming years, Zeus and I raised them as brothers," Poseidon recalled fondly. "We provided shelter and food. Clothing and instruction on how to master their powers. The bond between parent and child then was more powerful than we had ever experienced before. They were our sons. Successors whom we could hand our territories to when the time was right. The passage of power would be different from our father, and his father before him. It was also the first time I'd experienced the joys of having a son—a mortal son."

"Themedis and Ophronys, though they loved each other greatly as siblings, grew to form an intense rivalry. Both were near equal in strength and whenever one managed to pull ahead, the other was always close behind. As their fathers and brothers ourselves, your uncle and I encouraged this rivalry and even aided them by way of enchantments and weaponry. Atlas, It was the start of something great, and something terrible. In our ever-increasing zeal to outperform the other, we stumbled upon a practice that had no name. A ritual in which the powers of mere mortals could be increased beyond their normal constraints—even rising to that of minor divinities. As with other consequences of being young, Zeus and I dove head-first into the task, headless of the dangers of such an act." Poseidon said with a frown marring his face.

Storm clouds began to gather overhead as thunder boomed in warning. Poseidon looked up, regarding the sky wearily where he knew for certain that Zeus was listening in. He narrowed his eyes. "To erase the sins of our past is a mistake too great to be ignored, brother," he thought. "The children shall know of the bloodstained history carved by their foolish parents."

"Is everything alright, dad?" his son's voice, riddled with concern, asked softly. "We can stop if you want. I'm grateful that you decided to drop by."

Poseidon shook his head. "No. No, I'm alright," he said in a daze before gathering his thoughts. "Let us continue."

Poseidon's eyes went blank as he struggled to recall the rest of the memory. It seemed that the years were finally catching up to him, even with an immortal body. Or it could've been that he'd spent so much time repressing the painful experience that recollecting it was akin to mining an entire field of Stygian iron.

"And so it began," Poseidon continued, finally remembering his terrible, terrible deeds. "The golden age of the kingdom of Greece, heralded by the efforts of our sons. We rose to prominence in large part thanks to them. In war, they were unstoppable killing machines, each capable of besting tens or hundreds of mortal men with ease. In times of peace, they were loving husbands and fathers, paragons of their community. They could do no wrong in the eyes of the common people and the king. But as we pushed them further and further along, we could see a sickness building within them. Madness like no other overtook their minds and enslaved their beings. Despite the best efforts of Apollo using every arcane healing magic we could scour, nothing could cure it."

He was careful to avoid mentioning the specifics of the practice for fear that Zeus would cut their conversation short. His brother had been merciful towards Perseus for so long only out of consideration for his deeds and that he was ignorant of the intricacies of what he had unknowingly partaken in. If these facts changed, his son's life would be forfeited.

Poseidon looked up and saw his son pondering his words extensively, though he noted with some relief, that Perseus had not yet pieced together the information. Good, he thought.

Very good.

"Perhaps it was this madness that led them to slaughter innocent villages by the tens across the nation," Poseidon said. "They might have also grown sick and tired of being molded against one another by their excessively ambitious parents. Whatever it was, I do not know. All that was clear however, was that the pair of them needed to be stopped. But at that thought, Zeus and I hesitated. To conspire to kill one's own father is a sin so taboo that it sends shivers down the spines of all who ponder it. But greater, it was, the sin to murder one's child. The life that they had brought into the world."

Poseidon paused before continuing. "For this very reason, I devised an alternative method to solve the conflict. I would send an assassin to both of their families and pin the murder on the opposing brother. The plan worked marvelously, even beyond Zeus' and I's expectations. Themedis and Ophronys confronted each other and subsequently engaged in a duel that resulted in the death of the former," he said.

Poseidon kept his gaze to the ground to avoid his son's eyes. He simply didn't have the will to admit he'd done such a thing while looking Perseus in the face. Call him weak, cowardly, or soft, but none could ever claim the god of the sea didn't have a heart.

"I convinced Zeus to spare my son under the guise that he was no longer a threat, hoping that time would heal the grievous wounds I'd dealt him," Poseidon said bitterly, letting out a hollow chuckle. "After that, Ophornys grew resentful. At me, Zeus, and the world. I am certain that a large part of him regretted murdering his only brother and friend and the loss of his family. Years passed and my son only seemed to grow stronger and more mad under the torture his conscience had received. It was proving exceedingly difficult to both contain his rampages across Greece and restrain the enormous shame that I'd felt welling up inside of me because of my actions. That shame only grew larger until finally, I could endure no more and revealed everything to Ophronys in secret. The truth of his origins, and the reasoning behind his family's death, everything. I pleaded for forgiveness even though I knew in my heart that I deserved nothing."

Poseidon sighed heavily, wearily. Removing the enormous weight of his sins felt akin to dropping boulders from his back. It was...freeing, in a way. Idly, he wondered why he had never tried it before.

"In his great arrogance and blinded by vengeance after discovering the truth, Oprhonys stormed Olympus challenged Zeus directly for the throne," Poseidon explained. "Now, my brother, believing a mortal was beneath his time, sent Ares to deal with him, despite my vehement protests. The resounding clash was cataclysmic. In all my years, I have never seen a spectacle as grand as the one my son showed. I and the others who had come to watch what we assumed would be a one-sided brawl could only stare in amazement as it proved to be the opposite."

Poseidon turned to Perseus, finally mustering up the courage to look his son in the eye as he continued. "Ophronys was, against all odds, prevailing over Ares, even being able to withstand his true form for a time. The god of war, Perseus. Do understand what this means?"

His son shook his head.

"It means that there is a definitive, irrefutable way for mortals—lower beings— to challenge their place in the world," Poseidon said gravely. "We are gods, boy. Thought of by many as untouchable, infallible, and invincible. More forces of nature than anything else. The possibility that one of us could be defeated by a mortal, an Olympian no less, was an alarming one. By overcoming Ares, and taking his arm in the process, Ophronys had set a precedent. He had brought upon the change of an era."

Perseus nodded silently in agreement.

Poseidon continued. "Every being in existence, from the void in which all matter spawned from to the smallest of unicellular organisms, has its place in the world," he said sagely. "To challenge that is akin to challenging the very nature of the universe itself. And if there is one fact that I have discovered in my lifetime, it is that the universe does not tolerate such arrogance."

Poseidon breathed a shaky exhale. Yes. The era of dominance by the gods had almost come to end because of him. His son was the one that challenged his place in the pecking order. He had felt no greater shame than he did then.

Across from him, Perseus swallowed. "And what happened after that?" he asked.

Poseidon frowned. "Zeus does not like to be challenged either," he said. "Especially by lower beings. "As such, after witnessing the defeat of his godly son by the hands of Ophronys, my brother endeavored to end things once and for all. But at my incessant pleading for mercy, he began to suspect that I was a turncoat. In order to prove my loyalty to Olympus and to him, I had to—" his voice hitched before cutting off. It seemed that even after revealing so much, there still remained a boulder on his back.

Perseus was looking at him with wide eyes. "Did you...?" he trailed off.

Poseidon took a deep breath and steeled himself before responding. "Yes," he answered wincing as his son gasped. "I killed Ophronys, my own son. The creation that I brought into this world died by my hands."

Thunder roared its defiance in the clouds overhead as raindrops began to fall. They were sparse at first, before growing into a furious downpour. Poseidon paid no attention to his brother's tantrum, knowing full well that neither he nor Perseus could be affected by the weather.

Poseidon smiled uneasily. If Zeus was keen on soiling his last moments with his only son, then surely he wouldn't mind experiencing a bit of revenge?

Poseidon reached over to put a hand on his son's shoulder, noticing how Perseus flinched under his touch. He frowned. How had it come to this?

"Perseus," he addressed his son. "There is something else you need to know. Throughout the years, We've prevented the spread of this information by killing or persuading those who knew into silence. Furthermore, If a mortal proves to be a large enough threat, tragedy will befall them, one way or another. This serves as both precaution and insurance, keeping the rest of my brethren under control and ensuring that demigods do not grow to ponder things outside the scope of their concern."

All was silent for a time after that.

In the years following the incident with his son, Zeus had grown paranoid at the thought of being overthrown. To prevent this, he decreed that if any mortal were to show the signs of doing so again, they would be struck down, regardless of who they were. Demigods grew stronger as they aged and as such, seldom lived past their 20s. Many a time Poseidon had been forced to send monsters after his own children because they had grown too powerful.

"Dad?" his son spoke up eventually over the rain. Why are you telling me this?"

Poseidon cursed inwardly. He'd already said too much. It would make what he was about to do all the more painful.

"Perseus," he ordered, feeling his heart wrenching itself from his chest as he did so. "Turn around. Don't look."

His son obliged hesitantly.

Poseidon held out a hand and summoned his trident. The immaculate material, usually so sturdy and perfect, felt slippery in his hand as he slowly brought it towards his son's exposed back.

Perseus must have sensed that something was amiss because his next words he spoke made him falter. "Dad?" He whispered silently, heartbroken almost. Poseidon hesitated.

It was for the good of Olympus, Poseidon thought as he tightened his grip on his trident and willed himself to continue. He repeated the mantra over in his mind, trying to convince himself that what he was doing was right. That it was just. But when Perseus turned his shoulder to look him in the eyes, he saw something gleaming there that he never wanted to see in one of his son's again.

Betrayal. The last emotion present in Ophronys' eyes before the light had faded from them.

He couldn't do it.

His trident dropped to the ground with an audible clang, the sound drowning out the rain and encompassing all else. He couldn't do it.

Poseidon collapsed to his knees, weeping brokenly at his son's feet. He couldn't do it.

Perseus knelt in front of him, wrapping his arms around his frame as father and son wept together in the rain.

He couldn't do it.

When he returned to Olympus in shame, Zeus was waiting for him. Poseidon held his head high, if not proud, as he met his brother's gaze. There was a look of anger and hurt in his eyes at being defied, but more than that, was a thinly-veiled fear. Fear of that he would have to battle one of his brothers, and the fear for the future. Poseidon wished dearly that the circumstances were different. He wished that Perseus hadn't fallen into Tartarus in the first place, or at least he hadn't done so alone. That way, his son would've never discovered what had almost been the end of his life. But despite all of this, Poseidon held no regrets.

Never would he kill another one of his sons again.

Zeus held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity more as brother stared down brother. Poseidon felt like he had a million words to say but for the life of him, couldn't figure out how to say them. It was then that he realized there was nothing to be said. The time for words had come and gone.

Zeus stalked forward, passing him by the shoulder, and was out the door with nay a word. The chamber was basked in blissful silence.

Poseidon sighed, forlorn, and stood there as he contemplated his choice. Did he make the right one? he wondered. Choosing his son over the thousands, perhaps millions of innocent lives that would be lost should war erupt between the gods. He held no regrets, yes, but perhaps there was another way. One without bloodshed and senseless violence.

Poseidon shook his head, clearing away the fog. If such an option existed, it was gone now. The die had been cast and his fate had been sealed. There was little time to waste now.

Poseidon pressed a hand to his temple. "Goran, are you there?" He called, establishing the necessary mental link. "I require your assistance."

There were a few moments of static before and a gruff, wheezing voice called back. "What is it, Lord Poseidon?" the voice of his longtime friend echoed in his mind.

Poseidon smiled. "How have you progressed on the order I requested?" he asked. "The one harvested from the flesh and bones of the great monstrosity that plagued the land thousands of years ago?"

"Yes—" Goran grunted before he was cut off by a series of coughs, something wet and viscous, that reverberated through their shared bond. "I'm working on her. So far she's been collecting dust in the storage unit ever since you refused to wear her so as to not offend Lord Zeus."

"The circumstances have changed, Goran," Poseidon said grimly. "I require the armor as soon as it is ready to be worn."

Another cough. "Very well, Lord Poseidon," Goran responded. "I'll make the necessary repairs and contact you when she's finished."

Poseidon smiled, pleased, and terminated the connection. Goran was an old, old soul hailing from mysterious, unknown origins. Poseidon had found him on the verge of death just outside the gates of Tartarus while he was visiting Hades on business some time ago. He had no clue exactly who his friend was or where he came from, but his only concern was with the man's prowess as a blacksmith. Anyone who could manufacture armaments of a quality on par with Elder Cyclopes earned their right to privacy.

The armor of Tou Pantodýnamos would serve well as his symbol of power, or his second one, at least. Like Hades with his sword and Zeus with whatever he had devised in secret, Poseidon would need to have insurance in case they or anyone else gained ideas. Like now, for instance.

War was coming, and he needed to prepare.

July 18th, 2011

As Percy stalked the streets of Mount Olympus, angry and confused, he felt lost at how to respond to the emotions that were plaguing his mind. Shock, hurt, betrayal—all of them converged in a melting pot threatening to boil over at the slightest provocation.

He still couldn't believe it.

Zeus—his uncle—had ordered Poseidon—his own father—to kill him. Him. The one who saved Olympus, twice. The one who traveled to Tartarus and back just so that they could keep sitting on their fucking thrones and ignoring their children and being useless. In the moments after it had happened, Percy thought he was going insane. Genuinely insane, like he had snapped suddenly under the stress of being a demigod, or was still suffering some lingering effect of Amethis' illusion.

Because it just couldn't have happened. It was crazy. Absurd, as Annabeth would say. Percy refused to believe Zeus had tried to kill him. His one saving grace was that his father had a heart and morality and truly felt sorry for his actions in the past. If Poseidon had been just like the rest, then he would've ended dead in the river, with his mother and friends being told some bullshit story on how he "lived with honor".

What did he do? Percy began to wonder. What the hell did he do to piss off Zeus so much that he'd order his brother to kill his own son? He racked his brain, desperately searching for the answer.

Nothing.

He couldn't think of a single reason why Zeus wanted him gone. The lie? Maybe. But was the king of gods really so petty as to hold one lie against him? It couldn't be that. No way.

Maybe it was like his dad had said. Maybe he had grown too powerful. Enough to give the paranoid old man a scare and start doubting his intentions. It was the most likely conclusion, although one Percy was hesitant to believe since he hadn't trained seriously in almost a year.

After all that he'd done for them—for Zeus— he thought they'd finally reached an understanding. Percy knew that Zeus didn't like him, far from it, but was it wishful thinking to want to be considered more than just some unfortunate annoyance that came along because his parents decided they didn't want to use protection? Demigods were more than tools in the shed that had grown rusty or pawns on the Olypmians' chessboard. They were family, or so he thought.

It was a fact he had come here to either confirm or deny.

He almost ran into someone amidst his dark thoughts. It was Apollo.

"Kid?" the god of the sun balked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Percy raised his head to look at the disheveled—for that could be the only word—god of the sun. Dark, vein-riddled bags sat under Apollo's eyes and his skin was deathly pale. The signature blazer he always wore, which was normally impeccable, was dirty and supported numerous wrinkles. A far, far cry from the arrogant playboy who always had the nicest things. Something big must have happened.

Now that he wasn't so engrossed in his thoughts, Percy could detect the sour undertone of fear and uncertainty ruining the normally carefree mood in the city. The market was empty, an enormous oddity on its own and out of the corner of his eye, he could spy people hurriedly fleeing into their homes, as if running from some monster. Even the blind, deaf, and dumb could sense that something was wrong.

"You shouldn't be here!" Apollo hissed suddenly, grabbing his shoulders and ushering him back the way he came, toward the elevator entrance. "If the old man sees you, you're dead. No, scratch that. Beyond dead. I don't know what you did to piss him off so much, but you need to leave. Now."

"What—"

"Just go already!" Apollo ushered, shoving him through the elevator doors. The god frantically mashed the button that led down to the lobby of the Empire State Building as they closed.

Percy stood in bewilderment as Apollo favored him with a small, apologetic smile that did nothing to ease his confusion. The doors slid shut and he was whisked away without even getting the chance to say another word.

July 20th, 2011

They hadn't done this in a while, Jason thought as he took slow, half-sips of his soda. Everyone was always busy these days with school, work, or building a city in Annabeth's case. After numerous months of spamming calls and leaving countless messages, Jason had finally managed to get through to them and set up a meeting. He was thankful for that much, at least.

"—and Reyna socked him so hard that he flew into the barracks," Hazel told the rest of them with a wide smile and gleaming eyes. She was only this bold and outspoken, Jason had found, around them. Whenever there were strangers or less familiar people present, you would never even know she was in the room.

'"And after that, Omar had to have his jaw wired shut for weeks!" Hazel said, barking in laughter. "Can you believe that the Apollo kids refused to heal him? Or that Reyna had barred him from receiving extra treatment? Ha! Serves that jackass right for thinking he can act that way towards women and get away with it. Camp Jupiter isn't like the mortal world."

His friends all laughed at the story, like Jason knew they would. He'd been there after all. Seeing Reyna blush in embarrassment and then indignation shortly after had been something he didn't know he needed in his life and he would pay good money to see it again.

Nico, Hazel, Frank, even Reyna herself had come to their little get-together, though after the story, the latter had suddenly found the wall more interesting than them. Jason smiled fondly as he took another sip. This was what they had been fighting for, what Gaea and her cronies had tried to take away. There was no greater feeling in the world than knowing that she could never try it again.

He looked around. All of his friends looked happy, content, and carefree with one another's presence.

All except Percy.

Jason frowned, pleasant mood dampened as he turned to look at his friend. Percy looked troubled, to say the least. Like somethingwas eating away at his conscience. Jason wondered what could be bothering him at a time like this. Troubles with Annabeth perhaps? Nah, he thought. The two of them had been inseparable when they'd first met up, which Jason knew must have been a consequence of their separation.

He took another sip, this time downing the rest of his soda in one, large gulp. Could Percy still be remembering Tartarus? Perhaps. Even after almost a year, his friend still didn't talk about it. He knew better than to ask about it here though. That, among others, was part of the unspoken rule during these gatherings: keep the conversations light and innocent. No negativity.

The door opened and in came Annabeth and Piper carrying bagfuls of Vodka and cheap microwave pizza. Jason grinned and stood up, eagerly rubbing his hands as he rushed to dig in. Now the real party had begun.

August 1st, 2011

"A gift?" Percy echoed incredulously, unsure if he'd heard right.

His father smiled warmly. "Yes, son. A gift," he responded. "I think you've earned it"

"But why?" Percy asked. Poseidon had rarely given him anything of the sort in the entire eighteen years that he'd been alive. Why start now?

At the question, his father sighed. "Think of it as a late birthday present," he explained. "And with more to come every year until you graduate. I know mortal studies can be a challenge to endure for people with our, ah, circumstances, so I wanted to reward your hard work."

It sounded suspicious. And so soon after "the incident"? It was like Poseidon was trying to make up for a lifetime of absence, and thought that a measly few hundred dollars would do the trick.

His father held out the bloated envelope invitingly, beckoning it towards him. Percy waited, expecting something trick, and eyed the money warily

Poseidon exhaled forcefully. "Take it. Please?" he added.

Percy reluctantly took the envelope.

"So," Percy started awkwardly. "What—how...are things going on Olympus?" he said, struggling to make any kind of small talk while he figured out a way to bring up the real questions. After all, it wasn't like he could just say "hey dad, I'm glad you didn't kill me, and I forgive you for trying" straight to his father's face.

Poseidon's eyes darkened in response to the question. "Complicated," he muttered tersely. "You needn't worry about that right now."

Percy winced. A touchy subject then. He should have known. Perhaps something more neutral?

But as father and son stood in silence, neither of them seemed to find the words to speak.

The awkward silence continued until Poseidon coughed lamely in his hand. "Son," he said. "About the money...If you ever need more, just ask. I own some of the foremost marine travel and fishing businesses throughout the world. No amount is too much."

Percy nodded mutely. "I will," he said quietly.

His father smiled. "Good," he said. "Now don't spend it all at once—"

A knock at his door. "Percy, it's me!" Grover yelled from outside, his tone strangely warped and jumbled. "Open up."

"Coming," Percy grunted and turned to his father. "Sorry, can you—".

Poseidon was gone.

Percy blinked for a few moments before sighing in exasperation and moving to open the door for Grover. Damn gods and their flashy exits. Why couldn't they exit the normal way?

When he opened the door, Grover was stuffing his face full of jerky. It wasn't beef, he noted, but some strange plant substitute instead. "Hey Persh," his friend greeted in-between mouthfuls. "Ann-beth wansh choo see you." He swallowed audibly. "Outside of camp. Says it's important."

Percy understood every word. "Outside of camp?" He asked for clarification.

Grover nodded and inhaled another mouthful of jerky.

What a strange place for talk, Percy thought after waving his friend off and making his way to the barrier. If Annabeth wanted to talk in private, she could've come over. It wasn't like he had roommates. Though after the last time, he supposed they would have to be careful. He didn't want to be the subject of the Aphrodite cabin's gossip again. The rumors had been bad enough when he'd shown Jason around the place a couple of months back. Percy was content to keep all aspects of his private life, well, private.

He spotted Annabeth near a tree just outside the barrier. She paced ceaselessly, eyes vacant as she stared at the ground. Her lips fluttered about in a flurry of silent whispers, indicating that she was talking to herself, or thinking out loud depending on if you asked her. Percy smiled fondly and approached his girlfriend.

Annabeth's head snapped up when she heard him, so quickly that he could hear her neck pop from the motion. The restless energy that had fueled her a second ago seemed to intensify at his arrival. His girlfriend grabbed his hand in a vice grip and tugged him forward, away from camp and towards the hills that surrounded it. Percy shot Argus, who had been watching the spectacle from the side, a sheepish wave as he was led forward away from camp.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Percy inquired after they had reached a far enough distance away from any eavesdroppers.

Annabeth turned to him, shaking in barely-concealed excitement. She looked like she was about to burst. "I've figured it out," she stated simply. "The secret behind your 'interesting' powers."

Percy paused and went wide-eyed. "Really?" he asked, surprised. "How? Last time we tried, you got frustrated and quit because there wasn't any mention of them in the tens of books we skimmed through."

Annabeth smiled at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. It was the same smile she wore whenever she knew something he didn't which, needless to say, was most of the time.

"Come on, what is it?" Percy begged.

Annabeth laughed lightly. "It wasn't that hard," she said breathily. "The information wasn't difficult to find, I was just looking in the wrong place."

Percy held in a breath and waited for the answer. Annabeth smirked at him.

"Olympus, Percy," she drawled. "More specifically, Athena's library. I told you that I've been staying with her while the new city is being constructed right? Well, I found the notebook containing some of the research she had done on the topic over the years."

"It was just sitting there? Out in the open?" Percy balked.

Annabeth snorted. "Of course not," she said. "Mother keeps secrets like that either on her person or in secure areas at all times. Even with my invisibility cap, If it still worked, I wouldn't be able to get past her so easily."

"Then how…?"

Annabeth sighed. "I...took it while Athena was bathing," she admitted reluctantly. "Or to be precise, while we were bathing. I said I wanted to bond with her as mother and daughter and then left early after claiming I didn't feel well. The bath is connected to her room and study, which I took advantage of to sneak in."

Percy looked at her gravely. "Were you caught?" he asked, deadly serious. Even though Annabeth was her daughter, he knew that Athena wouldn't let her off lightly. He had experienced firsthand that gods didn't like mortals sticking their noses where they didn't belong.

Annabeth shuddered. "No, I didn't," she said. He breathed a sigh of relief. "But if she finds out, I'll be in serious trouble." She turned to him, clear worry in her eyes. "Percy," she said shakily. "I...your powers, they—"

Storm clouds gathered overhead in the sky. Percy stared up at them in confusion—he'd been pretty sure it had just been sunny—before his eyes widened, threatening to pop out of his skull. Percy turned, senses screaming at him, but was too late to warn Annabeth of the coming danger.

A blinding flash of white seared his vision, followed by a thunderous crack and unimaginable heat. Then, darkness.

When his eyes opened, Percy thought he was dead. He couldn't see, hear, or feel anything. Percy reached out blindly, grabbing air, trying to feel his surroundings. As the seconds began to pass, and clarity returned, what greeted him was not the rolling hills that lied outside of Camp Half-Blood. It was a wasteland.

The ground on which he sat was scorched and blackened beyond belief. Fires ravaged the grass, painting an almost nightmarish landscape as smoke rose and consumed everything in its wake. Percy flinched as a tree was toppled just a short few feet from where he was. There wasn't anything left recognizable of the place he had seen so many times coming in and out of camp.

Percy's eyes darted left, then right, then left again as his heartbeat rose, matching the pace of his frenzied breath. He couldn't see her. He couldn't see Annabeth. His eyes wrapped around the area, desperately looking for the girl who he'd give everything for. His search continued fruitlessly, that is until he turned around.

Annabeth lay, amidst smoke and ruin, still and unmoving. The entirety of her body, from her legs to her face, was horribly burned. Her blonde hair, which had been the subject of many of his fantasies a long, long time ago was charred black, and her skin, always without a blemish, was marred by cracks that leaked pus and blood. Percy's breath died in his throat. He'd never seen something more horrifying in his life.

Percy found the strength, from somewhere, to ignore his injuries and shamble over to her. He knelt above Annabeth, holding her in his arms as he pressed an ear to her chest and waited for signs of life.

He heard nothing.

His breath quickened as he sat there looking for a pulse. He tried her neck, wrists, and then her chest again. Nothing.

"Annabeth!" Percy shouted holding her close in his arms. "Hang in there! Please!" his voice cracked, unable to keep the pain at bay any longer. "Please," he whispered.

Heavy footfalls striking the dirt behind him grabbed his attention. Chiron and a crowd of campers were rushing towards him. His teacher took one look at him and then down at Annabeth, where he gasped. "Healers!" Chiron barked. "I need a healer this instant!"

A child of Apollo—Beth, he recognized—rushed forward. Her hands were alight with the healing magic he knew they used as a somber green glow enveloped Annabeth. Percy and the surrounding crowd waited on bated breath as the doctor performed her diagnosis. After a few moments, Beth looked up in worry.

"She isn't breathing," the girl said tensely.

The world went quiet and dark at those words.

Percy saw red.

The crowd around him erupted in a flurry of motion as Chiron furiously barked orders. Percy paid them no mind. He couldn't. Not when one of the people closest to his heart was taken from him.

Percy rose, ignoring the pain and didn't even realize his legs were moving until he stood knee-deep in the lake that lied in the forest of Camp-Half Blood. His head snapped up to the sky, where he knew that Zeus must've been watching the scene unfold. Something within him, something so very vital, snapped again. Like a bone that had been broken. Only this time, he wasn't sure if it would ever repair itself again.

And in that moment, torn between rage and despair, Percy realized something.

Nyx was right.

"It is in their blood to betray one another, destined to do so until the end of time."

Percy grabbed his head and screamed. She was gone. Water rose around him, responding to the pain he felt in his heart as it lashed outward, violent, and beyond his control. She was gone. One of the first and only people to understand him was gone. And it was all his fault.

He threw his head back and howled to the heavens.

Chiron had seen a lot in his long, immortal life. Grown numb and cold to many of the horrors that came with training heroes. But there were some things that made even his heartstrings feel a tug. Seeing the boy he had watched mature into a fine young man over the years in such pain was one of those times. No one should've had to experience what these children went through. The suffering they had endured was enough to make even the most indomitable of men waver and break. The fact they hadn't was a phenomenon in of itself.

The one saving grace was that they had managed to, miraculously, restart Annabeth's heart and stabilize her condition before brain decay could settle in. Not many could say they survived a strike from own lightning bolt, though "survived" might have been a bit too liberal in wording. The state of his student's mind was in shambles, to say the least. In order to protect and heal itself, the girl's brain had slipped into a comatose state. There was no telling when—or if—she would recover. All they could do was wait.

His sight shifted slightly to his right, where Perseus stood frozen, staring directly ahead with an unmoving, unblinking gaze. Dried tears hung below his eyes, which were hollow and empty, though thankfully not completely devoid of light. His student had almost flooded the camp in his emotional state. Chiron shuddered at what would've happened had they not brought the news of Annabeth's survival.

It was his fault that this had happened. He knew of the grim fate that awaited those who chose to consume the flesh of monsters and yet he did nothing. Simply content to wait and watch like a spineless coward. Chiron had trusted the gods then—trusted Zeus—to have matured over the years. To have learned from their past mistakes and not be deceived by fear. He should have known that they, like all others in existence, were no exception to such weakness.

A sudden, almost imperceptible shift at his side made him pause. "Chiron?" His student whispered, hoarse with grief.

"Yes, my boy?" he answered with concern.

"I need to leave camp," Perseus said quietly. He could hear the pain in his voice. "Just for a little bit… to clear my head. I'll be back in a few days."

Chiron immediately considered rejecting the request. Right now, solitude was the last thing one needed. Especially in a time like this and for a child so powerful. Logic, reasoning, and what he knew of the boy's personality told him that he would leave regardless, with or without his approval. It was best to indulge his wishes for now, even if he disagreed with them.

"Very well," Chiron agreed.

Perseus turned away from him and resumed his staring.

To see one of his students in such pain was...difficult. It always was. There were no words that could ease the suffering that life brought and all Chiron had to offer were empty promises and cold comforts. Such was the fate of a man cursed with immortality.

Chiron looked out of the adjacent window, where It had begun to grow dark out. Now he had to run damage control. Few knew of the real reason for Annabeth's injuries, a fact that would change soon if he couldn't come up with some excuse. He lamented that he couldn't tell the truth and reveal Zeus for the tyrant he was. Chiron would've liked nothing more than to do so, but he had learned a grim truth over the years. There would always be another wizened, immortal soul who could act as camp director. One, that didn't care for the children as much as he did. Right now, all he could do was sit and stare at the bars that caged him, no matter how much he wanted to tear them down.

Chiron made a move to leave only to pause at the door and turn around. "Perseus" he called out to his student, looking to offer words of comfort. However, when their gazes met, Chiron felt his blood freeze in his veins. A new, yet familiar look was reflected within his student's eyes.

He had seen that same look many times from countless pupils over the centuries. It was a look of fury so cold that it burned yet so hot that it chilled. More than that though, there was a righteous undertone of vengeance. A dark promise to strike back at those who had wronged him, no matter the cost. He resolved to nip the bud here and now before it could grow any further.

"My boy," Chiron spoke wearily, feeling his age for the first time in years. "Take caution in your next actions. Do not let emotion trick you into committing an act you cannot correct. You are still young and have a long journey ahead of you. I do not wish to see such potential squandered needlessly."

The child scoffed, brushing off his words. "Do not mistake my words for weakness," Chiron warned sagely. "I am not saying you should let this go, far from it. All I ask is that you give it time. Think before you act. Many have tried to do what you desire and none have succeeded thus far."

Some of his advice seemed to get through to the boy. Slowly, Perseus nodded his head in acceptance as he took in his words, though after some observation, it was all for naught. Chiron frowned. While his student may have accepted what he had said, his body language told a different story. The eyes especially, told Chiron that Perseus would not be swayed.

Chiron sighed heavily and turned to leave. Perhaps the bud had grown too much after all. He cursed himself for his ignorance. Maybe if he'd paid more attention to the signs, trusted his instincts, he could've stopped another one of his students from throwing away his life so foolishly. He had known that the sentiment against the gods had been growing ever since the war had ended. It was common amongst half-bloods to feel resentment towards their parents for throwing them into the fire, especially during and after times of conflict. They were an easy target for such hatred. And like a fool, he had ignored it. Betraying centuries of wisdom because he believed that this particular demigod was different and incapable of such real, human weaknesses.

What a fool he had been, Chiron thought solemnly.

Percy sat unmoving, still as stone, as he watched Annabeth with unblinking eyes. The room was dark silent, save the monotone beep of the heart monitor and the hum of machinery.

He should've seen this coming.

Zeus couldn't get to him, so he went after the people he cared about instead.

He sniffled, feeling tears pool in his eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to leave for New Rome in a few days. He, Annabeth, and Grover would head to California to start a new chapter in their lives. His first, and closest friends would be there with him every step of the way. The original three, them against the world.

Instead, this had happened.

Percy felt disgusted with himself that he'd even entertained the thought of wanting another war. Just so he could feel like himself again. There was nothing in the world that was worth seeing the people you loved lying broken and still on a bed, not knowing if they would live or die, only knowing that they'd been hurt and there was nothing you could do about it.

In a perfect world, things wouldn't have turned out like this. Gaea would've decided to leave them alone and remain asleep forever. He wouldn't have fallen into Tartarus on his own and been forced to eat monsters. With Annabeth's wisdom and guidance, he knew for certain that they would've figured something out.

But he didn't live in a perfect world. He lived in reality. One where people lived chained and unfree, forever controlled with unseen strings by those born luckier than them. And if you tried to cut those strings, to oppose the status quo and sever the ties that bound, you were put down ruthlessly and without remorse.

He should've seen this coming.

More than ever, he shouldn't have been so sickeningly naive. He knew that family meant next to nothing to the gods—to Zeus. Especially after he'd tried to kill him. Hell, it was one of the staples of Greek mythology. That asshole up top was clearly willing to betray anyone and anything he saw as a threat, regardless of who they were or what they had done for him. Once again, Nyx had been right.

Percy frowned. That name again. It had almost been a year since he had spoken of or even considered the promise he'd made out of desperation. But now, after seeing Annabeth lying broken on what might be her death bed, it hadn't left his mind.

Percy hadn't believed her then when she talked about the gods and their true nature. He had simply chalked it up to the insane ramblings of an old woman stuck in hell for too long. Of course, things didn't work that way.

He hated it.

He hated that he couldn't trust his "family" and he hated that Nyx was right. But most of all, Percy realized that he hated the gods—Zeus most of all—for their treatment of their children. Only a few, like his father, seemed to have a heart and genuinely cared for their safety and well-being. The others seemed like they would do anything—even kill their own children— to please their dear-old brother or father.

Because he was a threat or he was too strong—Percy didn't know—Zeus had begun targeting everyone he cared about. By being here, he was putting everyone at camp in danger. People who had nothing to do with whatever crime he had committed were in danger. For that reason, he needed to leave.

Percy leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Annabeth's covered lips. He couldn't even see her face behind the mountain of bandages she wore. Another sin in the world that shouldn't have existed.

"This will never happen again," he whispered, words full of sadness and promise of equal measure. "I swear it. Never again."

Then, he left the infirmary and headed towards his—Poseidon's— cabin where he began to plan his next move.

Percy stood before the barrier that obscured Camp Half-Blood from the outside world, feeling no small amount of conflict. Thankfully, Argus was nowhere in sight. Most likely off helping Chiron get things under control. That meant there was no one who could stop him.

Ahead, lie two choices. He could continue as he was; a lost and directionless teenager about to enter his first year of college. He could graduate, get a job, and live a normal life. All the while hoping and praying that his friends wouldn't be killed off in the process. Given recent events, that possibility was becoming increasingly unlikely.

Or, he could take the path of selflessness, of peace. He could fight, and possibly die, for something he truly believed in. He could give his friends, and future family a life without conflict and bloodshed. A life where fathers didn't have to kill their sons and vice-versa. He bit his lip until it bled. There would be no going back from this.

Percy turned and looked back at Camp Half-Blood, a sense of longing overcoming him. If he failed or refused to act, all of that would disappear.

The choice was clear.

Percy stepped forward and crossed the threshold of the barrier into the night.

What he did was to save Annabeth.

To save everyone.

A/N:

Here we go, ladies and gentlemen. Please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times. Things are about to get bumpy from here.

Apologies if you've noticed the widening gaps between chapters. Now that I've been writing this story for a few months, inspiration has become frustratingly fleeting. This does not mean I'm losing interest in the story, far from it, but sometimes it feels like I'm forcing myself to sit down and write when I could do it for hours without issue before. You could say the story has become more complex than it was three, four, or even five chapters ago. I've also begun a new editing process which should hopefully increase the quality of the chapters. It takes longer, but I think I'll have fewer doubts and second-guesses before and after publishing chapters.

The concept of fatal flaws has always fascinated me and it's one of the many things I give praise to the books for. Given the choice between saving the world or his friends, Percy would almost undoubtedly choose the latter if left with no other options. Throughout the entire series, he has always fought to protect something. Whether that be his home, the people he loves, or something else. But that threat has always been external. In this story, I wanted to make it internal. There is no great looming threat that is easy to identify and fight against. Only real, complex human emotions and the problems that follow with them.

It should be noted that The Trials of Apollo and the Kane Chronicles series do not exist in this universe. Zeus would not weaken Olympus in the face of a potential threat and as such, Apollo was never "punished" accordingly. I also don't want the headache of trying to incorporate those cannons into this one.

The armor of Tou Pantodýnamos roughly translates to "The armor of The Almighty'' in greek. I used an online translator to aid in the naming process so I hope it doesn't upset any genuine speakers of the language. Feel free to correct me of any mistakes.

Lastly, I want to once again thank everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed—especially those who do the latter every chapter(you know who you are). A large part of the enjoyment that comes with writing is seeing that your ideas sound good outside of your head.