"Maverick, are you still with us?"

Right. He was in for evaluation. Better get back to paying attention.

Maverick tuned back in to the woman assessing him. He could hear her thoughts whispering away inside her head. She was a very loud thinker.

"Sorry. Thoughts." Maverick apologised. "Could you repeat the question?"

The woman smiled graciously. "Certainly. I asked why you request restraints for one to one meetings. Your good behaviour has earned you the freedom of your hands but you still ask for them. Why?"

Maverick paused to collect his thoughts. He had to answer this right. Softly, he counted his way through the links between his wrists.

"They make me feel secure. When I'm dealing with someone I don't know I feel anxious. The restraints are an anchor. Even if I don't know anything else going on, I can feel them and it calms me down. I don't need them for people I'm familiar with, but with new people I prefer them."

"That's understandable. Being in here is hardly the best thing for your mental health." The woman said sympathetically.

She noted something on her clipboard. Maverick knew what she'd written without having to look. He'd heard her thoughts as loud as the intercom. She had written that he was good at adjusting and finding anchors in stressing circumstances. He'd said the right thing but made it seem like it was natural. The actual reason he wanted to be restrained was in case his buried emotions got out of his control. His rage and wrath were terrible when unleashed. Thankfully no one had linked the earthquake, darkness, and mist that afflicted the detention center to him. That had nearly been a costly mistake.

~You could escape at any time. Why confine yourself?~

Maverick forcibly resisted the shudder that yearned to rip through him as that dark angelic void resounded in his head. A voice so black and full of malice that even Maverick could begin to quake. He couldn't show that he heard the fallen Archangel in his mind, or he'd never be released.

Don't listen, Maverick reminded himself. Don't answer him.

Ignoring someone was one of the most underused and damaging tools of psychological warfare, even if that someone was a fallen Archangel. Maverick knew his father wouldn't be broken or deterred, but it still hurt the wicked bastard to be ignored by his only surviving mortal child. The primordial angelic being tried less and less to breach Maverick's mind as he was continually ignored.

Still, his father was far from wrong. Maverick could escape at any time but he wanted his freedom to be legal, then he wouldn't be hounded and hunted down. He had waited 4 years to breathe the free air again. He could wait a little longer.

"What do you see yourself doing when you leave here?"

"I'd go to school like any other kid, make friends, and join the army when I turn 17." Maverick replied.

"You didn't mention anything about family there. And why the army?"

"In the army, everyone has a place. No one gets left behind; there's always something for you." Maverick explained, letting the chain of his cuffs slid through his fingers. "As for family… I don't think I'm welcome anymore."

Subject has moderately healthy schooling, social and career aspirations but feels that he is unwelcome at home despite completing his rehabilitation 15 months ago. Maverick could practically recite the notes being written down even though he wasn't looking at them. Gosh, did this woman's mind ever quieten? She was making this too easy. The professional checked her prior notes and spoke again.

"I have it here that you've been receiving weekly calls from a 'Miss Sally Jackson'. Could…"

"There's no place for me there." Maverick asserted, lacing his words with as much persuasion as he could.

It worked.

"Very well. We'll have to look into alternative housing arrangements if your family doesn't take you when you're released."

When. Maverick forced down the smile that wanted to creep onto his face. He would be free soon. This interview was just speeding up the process - if they had no concerns about his mental state then he'd be let go sooner and with less oversight. Not that he would have trouble slipping that collar.

"Final questions…"

Maverick locked all his attention on the woman's words now.

"... how do you feel about the charges you were convicted of when you were sentenced to juvenile detention? And what are your thoughts on your sentence and rehabilitation?"

Maverick took a moment to collect his thoughts. He couldn't screw these two questions up. What did she need to hear? Maverick listened to her thoughts. She expected a typical teenager response, but what she needed to hear to check all the boxes she had influence on in his release was a lot more serious.

"I'm glad I pleaded guilty; I never would have got the help I needed if I hadn't been immediately sent here. I was completely off the reservation. Being here helped me work through everything without endangering anyone else. My sentence was more merciful than I deserved, but I'm grateful that I was shown that much mercy. As for my rehab, well that's the staff's place to say isn't it? I don't decide when I'm mentally healthy and I've learned my lesson, only the system has that say."

That response was crafted carefully, tailored to strike enough of the right chords with the woman who'd come to interview him that she gave the green light but not so many of them that she would think he was telling her what she wanted to hear. He was. Maverick's truthful responses to those questions were far different to the ones he'd given.

The woman packed up and left pretty soon after that. Maverick was released from his restraints and escorted back to the communal space. He hated it here.

If Maverick had to say what was his least favourite thing about juvenile detention, he'd say it was socialising. As a general rule, Maverick didn't interact with anyone if he could avoid it. A Nephilim's presence gave off a certain 'vibe'; it was the angelic nature of their parent in them. Maverick had long since figured out that he gave off a bad vibe. His presence pulled dark emotions to the surface - sadness, depression, anger, hate, and worst of all, fear. And since Maverick drew out those emotions just by being around, he didn't get on with emotional people. Which most of the kids here were.

"Oi, albino!"

Albino? The names got worse and worse. Sure, Maverick's once tanned skin was pale from residing in solitary but he was far from albino. Still, he turned his head to see the biggest idiot in this place. Jayden Sloper.

Sloper was shorter than Maverick - Maverick was tall for his age - but Sloper made up the height difference by being jacked. Sloper intimidated most of the kids since he'd arrived in Febuary; there were a few he didn't dare pick on but he was stupid enough to go for Maverick. Maverick could overpower him with one arm tied behind his back and his eyes closed, but he hadn't gotten into a fight in juvie in years and he wanted to keep it that way.

Like the woman who'd interviewed him, Sloper was a loud thinker. Maverick could hear his thoughts from across the room without trying. And right now Sloper wanted to do what no one else had done - lay Maverick out. Good luck with that.

"They just tell you you're here for life?" Sloper sneered.

"No, I'll be released quite soon, unlike you." Maverick replied with confidence. "Looks like you'll be here until your sentence is out, then you'll end up in jail just like your dad."

Yep. Maverick went there. He'd picked that tidbit up from Sloper's thoughts months ago. But it was certainly effective.

"What did you just say to me?" Sloper demanded, stepping into Maverick's personal space. Another mistake.

"You can hear, Sloper. You know what I said." Maverick bit back. "Seriously though? Petty shoplifting? That's what you're in for?"

All the kids in the room laughed. Most were in for violent offences. But Maverick didn't stop there.

"At least I'm in for something serious."

Sloper was losing his composure now. Maverick could feel the anger and fear radiating out of Sloper's soul as he stuttered, "W-What's t-that?"

Maverick went in for the kill.

"Double manslaughter, Sloper." Maverick said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I killed two kids to end up here."

Fear swallowed Sloper. Maverick could practically taste it. Funny, the terror a tiny revelation could inspire. Most other kids knew what he was in for by now. Maverick got along with the kids that Sloper didn't have the stones to pick on - kids in for violence, assault and one or two accidental killings among them. As the years passed, they had told one or two others that Maverick was in for killing, and so it was a cautionary tale told to new kids. Sloper had clearly either not heard or not believed the story. Well now he did.

"Careful, Sloper, Maverick's still got the killer in him."

Sloper bolted.

Maverick turned around to see his only friend in this miserable place. Tyrone Campbell, a tall, dark-skinned boy who was just a year older than him. Maverick nodded, and followed Tyrone to the corner.

"So, you're gonna be out of here soon?" Tyrone murmured, as to not draw attention.

"My hearing is in a week, the interview was to assess my mental state." Maverick nodded. "How's your hunger?"

Tyrone bared his teeth in a dark grin that only got more savage as his canines lengthened into fangs. "Manageable. You know I'm always going to owe you, right?"

"I'd hardly call making you into the first real vampire doing you a favor." Maverick whispered back.

"You saved me from dying a slow and painful death from a stupid blood disorder." Tyrone countered, turning his teeth back to normal. "I'll take vampirism over that. At least I don't sparkle or burn in the daylight."

"I will get you out of here." Maverick promised.

"I've already got a plan for that." Tyrone smirked. "I'll keep my hunger in check and volunteer for community service. That'll get me out faster."

"You only have a year left anyways." Maverick concluded. "It'll work."

Tyrone looked around. The kids were being rounded up for afternoon class. "As long as your Archangel can get you out, we're golden. I'll see you on the other side."

What had Percy learned in the past two days? Well, for starters being a Nephilim amongst demigods really bites! If it wasn't people being intimidated or freaked out by his hybrid form it was the distrust most so easily slipped into. Something's wrong? Must be those darn Nephilim!

He'd also learned that babysitting a young Cyclops was difficult work. Tyson was fascinated by everything and had little self-preservation instincts apparently. Much to Percy's relief Beckendorf, the built African-American counselor for the Hephaestus cabin, was more than happy to spend hours on end with Tyson in the camp forge. Apparently Hephaestus employed the Cyclopes in his forges so Beckendorf had no problem with teaching metalcraft to Tyson. It was a lifesaver, and apparently Tyson would be "forging magic weapons in no time."

There was a lot more he learned, but what surprised Percy the most was when he came out of the Heaven cabin with Parisa one morning to find Poseidon on the doorstep. The God of the Sea was dressed in his comfy beach attire, and was carrying a fishing pole that Percy suspected was his Trident by the familiar energy radiating from it.

"Got time for a chat?" Poseidon asked.

"Sure, now's good." Percy said with a nod.

Both Nephilim fell into step beside Poseidon as they walked in the direction of the beach. Poseidon's stride was quite comfortable to match - clearly he wasn't in a hurry.

"So what's up?" Percy inquired.

Poseidon thumbed the grip of his fishing rod as he spoke. "Well first of all, thank you for taking care of Tyson this year. I knew sending him your way was a good idea."

"You sent him our way?"

"Yes. Tyson has been praying to me since he knew how, though he didn't know my name or nature." Poseidon explained. A jovial smile took over his face. "I guided him to you, and you've taken better care of him than I had dared to hope. I'm sorry for hiding his true nature with the Mist - I needed him safe and proximity to the combined power of you two shielded him from all harm once he befriended you."

Percy swallowed. "Uhh, no problem."

For a moment, there was a companionable silence. Silence Parisa broke.

"Do you know what's going on with camp? Why was Chiron fired? Who poisoned the tree?"

Poseidon's smile fell.

"Ah yes. I won't get into the politics too much but the short of it is that Thalia's tree was poisoned beyond anyone's ability to undo - not even Apollo or Asclepius could cure the venom. My little brother has been deeply upset by this crime, and - with lack of an actual culprit obvious to him - Zeus has laid the blame upon Chiron and did away with him. Who actually poisoned the tree… that is a difficult matter indeed."

"It is?" Percy needled, raising an eyebrow.

"Unfortunately, there are too many suspects, and to make matters worse most of them are in the wind." Poseidon remarked. "You may have noticed that camp is missing many campers this year."

Percy had noticed. Cabin 11 was shockingly empty - mostly just the unclaimed had left but a couple children of Hermes himself were absent. Luke was still in New York, but he was due back any day now. Other than those, most others were here.

"Zeus, in his constant paranoia, would love to pin the poisoning of his daughter's tree on you, Percy. You offended him by wielding the Master Bolt. However, he knows it was not you or your sisters - he has had a close watch kept on all of you. Thus, Zeus was infuriated and fired your activities director, Chiron. Unless the camp comes up with a miracle, Thalia's tree will die, and its death will bring down the camp's border protections for good. Camp Half-Blood will cease to be a sanctuary and will instead become a monster feeding ground."

"That would suck." Parisa summed it up.

"That is one way to say it." Poseidon agreed. "Before I depart, I have a favor to repay the one you did me in retrieving my Trident, Percy, and a warning for you both."

Percy stopped and faced the Olympian. The sand of the beach was very cold beneath his feet. He should've worn at least trainers.

"Can we start with the good news?"

Poseidon nodded with a smile. "You have some power over the sea - I will teach you to use it if you so desire."

"That sounds great." Percy said, a smile creeping onto his face. "And the warning?"

Poseidon's sea green eyes grew stormy and stern. Percy would have called the expression on Poseidon's face fatherly concern if he knew what that was like.

"In the wake of Artemisia's appearance on Olympus, his humiliation at her hands, and her subsequent disappearance, Zeus' ire against the Nephilim as a race has come to bear on you two, and, by extension, your sister Cailee. If you give him the slightest reason, he will eagerly banish the three of you from the camp and unleash the worst monsters from Tartarus to hunt and kill you. You cannot give him the excuse he desires. Stay here, train, and master your powers before Zeus sends a hundred demigods to destroy you like he did with Artemisia. She is banished from death and cannot be defeated permanently - you, however, are a far easier opponent right now. Zeus has not yet discovered a loophole in Gabriel's threat, but he has tasked Athena with investigating the tomb that held Artemisia's daughters for almost two and half millenia."

A burning sensation twisted Percy's chest, making his breathing rough. Where did Zeus get off hating on the Nephilim? White stars burned through sea green in Percy's irises. His wings lashed out of his back, and the ground began to tremble. Poseidon found his head pierced by the holy ringing that sounded.

"If Zeus touches Cailee or Parisa, he will have the fight of his life!" Percy growled.

Parisa was similarly infuriated. Her wings had snapped out, and Percy could swear he heard her growling. But surprise was also on her face. Surprise at the depth of Percy's reaction over her being threatened. Percy wished she wasn't surprised, but he couldn't blame her given the less than stellar middle of their childhood.

"I have no doubt of that, but even you cannot take Zeus, Percy." Poseidon cautioned, wincing from the ear-splitting ringing. "Not alone, not as you are now."

Wrath burned through Percy's eyes as he coldly stated, "There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep my sisters safe."

Even if I have to release him, Percy finished his statement silently.

Percy could still feel him. The presence of Maverick lingered just beyond Percy's senses and haunted his dreams from time to time. Percy trembled at the thought of releasing the dark Nephilim, but he would do it if it was his only way to beat Zeus.

"Train, learn your powers, and don't offend my brother any more than you already have." Poseidon's tone was sterner. However, it grew softer as the rays of the sun reached them. "Now then, I believe your angel comes. I shall be off."

Poseidon blew away in the wind in a cloud of water vapour that drifted down the beach and into the sea. The sun flared for a moment, forcing Percy to close his eyes, and when he opened them Daylight was stumbling into him. She was uncharacteristically clumsy with her landing today. Sure, Daylight's touchdowns weren't as flawless as Artemisia's silent, graceful landings, but she certainly wasn't sloppy. Normally.

"You're a bit clumsy today." Percy remarked, his temper diffusing pretty quickly.

Daylight dusted herself off and flashed him a beaming smile. "I managed to stay on Earth for over 24 hours by moving around the world - I'm a bit tired."

Percy grinned as he gave Daylight a look. "You never managed it before? And you've been alive how long?"

"Don't you know it's rude to talk about a lady's age?" Daylight bit back, still smiling.

"I'll let you know when I see one." Percy said. His grin was turning into a broad smirk now.

Percy was expecting the slap on his arm. He'd just expected it to hurt more. Maybe he was too used to Parisa's sledgehammer hits but Daylight's little revenge shot hardly stung. Now Parisa's punch to his back… that had been killer.

"Well if you're going to be rude, I guess I won't share what I learned about Nephilim tonight."

Percy immediately swivelled his head to face Daylight, still wincing.

"Aw come on! That's not fair!" Percy whined.

Percy did his best Parisa impression - wide-eyes and pouting right in someone's face. It was what his little sister did when she wanted something, and it usually got Parisa her way with everyone but Mom. It should work for him too, right?

Unfortunately, it didn't work as well as Percy had hoped.

Daylight pushed Percy back into Parisa with a giggle and sternly said, "Apologise, and maybe I will tell you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Good enough." Daylight smiled softly. "And don't make me act grown up again."

Percy realised he was smiling too. How did that happen?

"So are you going to tell me what you found out?" Parisa cut in.

"Well I ran into Artemisia in Nagasaki…" Seeing Percy's raised eyebrows, Daylight added, "Don't ask me why she was there - my sister does what she wants."

"I figured." Percy deadpanned.

"... Anyways, she had Apollonia, Melissa, and Paris with her, and she was working on her connection with Melissa to make it more direct. Actually, that's not relevant - ignore that part. Basically, it turns out all angelic beings created with parthenogenesis have their 'blueprints' etched into their bones in the language of the angels. That includes the Nephilim."

"What's parsnip genesis?" Percy and Parisa questioned simultaneously.

Daylight went into a giggling fit.

Both Jacksons had to stand and wait for a minute while the angelic being got the mirth out of her system. When she had recovered enough to talk, Daylight chortled,

"If it wasn't for the obvious I'd swear you two are twins."

"Ew!" Parisa protested, shoving Percy away.

"To you too!" Percy shot back.

Daylight composed herself then explained. "Par-thene-o-genesis. Reproducing without a physical union. Divine parthenogenesis is usually done in pairs - only Archangels can do it solo. All Nephilim since the Flood have also been made this way - the union of a human mind and an angelic one. Ask Annabeth if you want a more detailed explanation."

"Yeah, no thanks." Parisa rolled her eyes. "I'd rather not kill my brain cells."

"Blondes have more fun." Percy reminded Parisa. "Your words not mine."

Parisa gave Percy a deadpan in a glare. "Annabeth's idea of fun is my idea of death by hearing stuff about crap I don't care about."

"Language!" Percy rebuked his little sister.

"Yes, Cailee."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, Mom."

"And that's enough of that." Daylight sighed, pushing the siblings apart gently.

"Back to my point - basically what I meant was every detail your fathers had in mind while creating you is etched into your bones in angelic handwriting."

That caught Percy's attention.

"Details like?" He ventured.

"Your appearance, your true name, how much you inherit angelic traits, the requirements for you to first unfurl your wings, your vulnerabilities, which of their powers you get, and so on." Daylight summarised.

Percy felt his skin crawl. To think all that information was just written into his bones for anyone to read… it was more than creepy, it was downright disturbing. What had his father been thinking, writing everything in his body in that way?

"So, if someone cut us open they could find our weaknesses written in our bones?" Parisa wondered with a wavering tone.

Daylight was ever the comfort. She shook her head, and gently reassured Parisa. "It's not so easy to read your blueprints, Parisa. The language has never been recorded outside of Heaven, and there are four different dialects. Someone would have to discover the writing, work out it was angelic script, identify the right dialect, and then translate it to read even your father's signature. Plus, there are 220 or so bones in your hybrid body. And if it's any reassurance, I can barely read the cliff notes of what's engraved in my own skeleton."

Silence reigned for a bit.

"How about we fly until breakfast, and Day can give us tips from the ground." Percy suggested to his little sister.

Parisa was very happy to agree. The two Jacksons flew around in the dawnlit sky until breakfast. After breakfast was Sword & Shield. The Ares cabin were running border patrol so they didn't join the Nephilim, but Daylight was more than happy to instruct.

"So who trained you?" Parisa asked.

"Archangel Michael." Daylight replied as she shimmered from her dress into her armor. "I think it's only fair you get his teaching too, even if it is indirect."

Michael. The biggest Archangel on the heavenly block.

"Fighting is dancing. There's a rhythm, a music, and a pattern. Fighting comes naturally to some, but to dance requires practise and instruction. Now, draw your weapons." Dawn instructed them.

Percy pulled the ballpoint pen out of his pocket and flicked the cap off as Parisa drew her dagger. Riptide sprang into full form. Daylight's silvery katana appeared in her hands. Percy zoned in on the sword. One edged blade, aerodynamic shape, curved design. The blade was about the same length as Riptide's, it just had a two handed hilt instead. Percy had a nagging feeling that it would have less air resistance than his own sword.

"Well, come on." Daylight prompted cheekily.

Percy moved first. He would always go before Parisa. Daylight shifted his thrust aside with a flick of her blade and brought it round to his neck. Percy pulled Riptide upward by the hilt, bracing the flat of the blade against his left forearm - causing Daylight's cut to grate upwards and stop at Riptide's hilt. Parisa was beside them both in the time it took Percy to hear the snarl ripping from her throat. Since when did she move that fast in hybrid form? Viper form, Percy could understand, but that was too fast for Parisa otherwise.

Daylight pulled a Matrix-esque flip to avoid Parisa's slash, throwing Percy to the ground in the process. That was embarrassing. But it wasn't as painful as the kick to his face that kept him down.

Well screw me sideways, Percy groaned internally.

Parisa felt her senses light up in wildfire as her sea green eyes burned brown with her angelic vision. What she saw was a bit odd. Daylight's entire right sight had sunlight under her flesh, but the left side… it was different. On the surface it looked the same colour but the moment she looked deeper, Parisa could see a wraithlike grey underneath that formed all of Daylight's left side. What the…

A punch to the nose snapped Parisa out of her musing.

"Ouch!" Parisa complained, snapping her head back to Daylight. "That hurt."

"Focus!" Daylight commanded. Parisa obliged her.

The sunny phantom Parisa saw preceding Daylight was a definite help. Oh sure it was still almost too blindingly fast to dodge, but Parisa could see what was coming and her viper reflexes compensated. She just couldn't see an opening yet.

Duck. Twist. Block that slash! Parisa hissed at the jarring impact on her dagger. It had not been nice for her wrist. Better use two hands next time. But she saw the opening.

Parisa knocked away another slice and by the time Daylight had got her katana back in line, Parisa was no longer Parisa. A venomous green and bourbon brown viper surged past the angel's sword and for her throat.

Unfortunately, the viper lunged for the left side of Daylight's neck.

In an instant, the left side Daylight's body turned translucent pale grey, split down the centerline of her body. The viper slipped right through her and tumbled back into Parisa in the dirt on the other side. Parisa shook her head to clear it, only to find herself daggerless and with a katana blade to the throat.

"Done, and done." Daylight rasped, gasping for breath.

Parisa looked back at the angel, only to find her looking normal again. There was not a sign of that translucent grey she could swear she'd gone right through.

Must be some angel trick, Parisa decided.

"Fine, you win." Parisa pouted, crossing her arms.

Daylight banished her katana and crossed to Percy, breathlessly replying, "Bleeding viper reflexes into your hybrid form - smart."

"Thanks."

Daylight helped Percy up and looked at where she'd booted him in the face while he was down. She'd split his cheek open - nastily at that. Still healable though.

"Sorry for the kick." Daylight apologised.

Percy waved her off.

"It's fine. I'll just keep in mind that people kick you when you're down in a fight." He joked with a wink.

Percy felt his face twisting into another smile as his guardian angel giggled. Ouch! Smiling really hurt right now. Daylight noticed.

"Hold still."

Daylight's hand hovered over his cheek. Percy could almost feel her touch, but not quite. Sunlight poured out of the angel's hand and into the wound in his face. Feeling his blood going back into the injury as his flesh slowly knitted back together was really odd. But odder still was the expression of pure concentration that Daylight had. Her face was scrunching up, as if it was taking every iota of focus and energy just to supernaturally stitch Percy's cheek back together. She was sweating, something Percy had never seen before. He'd never seen that much concentration when she'd healed him in the past.

Percy almost jumped when Daylight actually took hold of his cheek over the wound. The pressure coming from her hand was really intense. A minute later, Daylight pulled her hand back, and the wound was gone. Percy couldn't feel any pain there anymore. But Daylight looked like she'd run a marathon. She pitched forward.

Percy caught Daylight and held her up. She looked pale and felt a bit cold.

"Are you okay?" Percy asked softly, steadying the teen angel.

Daylight shakily stood again and nodded hesitantly. "I didn't want to leave a scar so it took more from me."

"Plus, you've been on Earth over 24 hours." Percy added. "That can't be easy."

"When you kids are done…"

Percy, Parisa, and Daylight all jumped when they heard Cailee's voice. The eldest of the Jackson children was at the entrance to the combat arena - dressed in an orange camp t-shirt and jeans like she'd been there all day - and beside her was Luke.

"What took you so long?" Percy replied hastily, straightening up.

"This and that." Cailee deflected, tucking part of her fringe behind her ear.

"If you two made out, I will vomit on your bed, Cailee." Parisa announced.

Neither Luke nor Cailee said anything.

"You look knackered." Luke commented awkwardly, directing his words at Daylight.

"Try pulling an all-nighter while having to move around the globe to stay in sunlight." Day offered.

Luke looked away, cringing. "I'll pass."

"Thought so."

Sunset came far too fast for Daylight's liking. But unlike last night, she didn't have the energy to move to the next continent westward. Daylight said goodnight to all the Jacksons and flew away, but only as far as Missouri. Sunset came again within half an hour. The colour faded from her wings as the sun vanished and the left side of her body became a translucent grey, emancipated, and ragged. The left side of Daylight's hair floated with every movement. Her true appearance was exposed. And Daylight felt so very cold.

Daylight could feel her separation from the daylight like icy poison spreading from where her heart would be if she was human. The deathly chill crept through her arteries, freezing her solid. But she was in the middle of nowhere and didn't have the strength to move. She couldn't hurt anyone.

The flapping of wings a few hours later barely disturbed Daylight from her freezing state.

"Little dove, what are you doing?!" Artemisia demanded frantically. "You know you linger a single breath from death without the sunlight!"

"... I can't… I don't have the energy…" Daylight stammered as Artemisia gathered her up.

"How long have you been on Earth?" Artemisia questioned, her burning pale grey eyes scanning her little sister.

"... twelve… twelve days…"

Daylight winced. Her sister's skin was burning to the touch. Wait, that was because Daylight herself was freezing.

"You've barely managed 16 hours a day for the past century, twelve days is far too long." Artemisia fussed, unzipping her jacket and pulling Daylight to her chest. "Why haven't you returned to Heaven, little sister?"

"... I can't… get back…" Daylight admitted. "... I don't have… the strength…"

Daylight could barely see Artemisia's face, but she knew the concern that would be there just from her sister's voice. It always had been. Artemisia had carried her for centuries.

From Greece to Rome, to Israel, and on and on the list went. The Peloponnesian War. Christ's life. The Roman Empire. The Fall of the Mayans. The Crusades. The Magna Carta. The Hundred Years War. The Italian Renaissance. Shakespeare. The Treaty of Paris. The French Revolution. The making of America. The Great Famine. Gabriel sinking the Titanic. The World Wars. The Cuba Missile Crisis. The space race. Nelson Mandela. They had seen the last two thousand and five hundred years together, and Artemisia had never left Daylight behind.

"I cannot take you to Heaven and you are separated from your domain - your wraith half is all that is keeping you from fading." Artemisia enlightened Daylight. "You need to feed it."

"... I won't… devour… human life… never again..." Daylight protested feebly.

"You will devour mine." Artemisia asserted.

Artemisia shifted Daylight until they were face to face. Daylight tried to push away - fighting both her sister and the hunger that blazed into life at the mere mention of human lifeforce.

"... no…"

"I can die and die again, but the grave cannot take me." Artemisia booked no argument. "Do it, little sister. Now."

Daylight had no strength left to resist her sister's demand. Both her hands clamped in a vice grip on Artemisia's head and Daylight let the wraith - no - let herself rip into Artemisia's lifeforce. Unlike Keto's sea serpent, Artemisia's life was not fast to devour. She was a Neo-Nephilim - the first of her kind - and the daughter of an Archangel at that. She had ten times the lifeforce of a healthy human. And Daylight stole all of it. She felt her sister's face grow cold in her hands. Artemisia was dead. And Daylight didn't feel as cold anymore.

A minute passed. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Sometime after fifteen minutes, Artemisia jolted back to life in full force. Heart pounding, blood pumping, lifeforce as if it had never been devoured.

"Never make me do that again." Daylight pleaded, cuddling into her sister's chest.

"I cannot make any promises, little dove." Artemisia murmured into her hair. "You are my responsibility, and my lifeforce is infinite until my curse is ended."

"You made yourself responsible for me."

"And I have never regretted that decision."

Percy had goat dreams again. And by that, he meant he saw Grover in his sleep.

This time it was weirder. Grover was wearing a wedding dress now. It was a poor fit, and it was quite messy too. Grover was in a dark, dank cave that was lit only by torches. A loom and a cot were the only things in sight. And strangely Grover was waving at him

"Percy, can you hear me?"

"Uhhhh, yeah I guess?" Percy tried speaking. He sounded distant and echoing. And apparently his voice was a little painful for Grover.

"Thank the gods!" Grover exclaimed. "Listen close, I haven't got long! I couldn't get an empathy link to bond to you - must be you being half Archangel instead of god - so I'm having to project into your dreaming mind and to say the connection is fragile is putting it lightly."

"Right, I'm following so far." Percy said with a nod.

"I'm gonna keep it short. I was looking for Pan, and I thought I'd found him. Turns out it's the Golden Fleece satyrs have been tracking. I've been trapped by Polyphemus the Cyclops, from Odysseus' stories - he thinks I'm a lady cyclops and wants to marry me! I've only got 11 days to finish this bridal train! We're in the Sea of Monsters. You get all that?"

"Polywhatsit lured you with some gold sheepskin, you're stuck in the Sea of Monsters in a wedding dress, and you've got 11 days till you're married?" Percy recited with a questioning tone.

"Till he finds out what I am and eats me, but basically." Grover confirmed. "Annabeth can explain what the Sea of Monsters, the Fleece, and Polyphemus are…"

Everything started getting blurry. Percy could barely hear Grover as he drifted away."

"You have to tell Annabeth all this, got it?! Percy?!"

Percy jolted awake with a start. It wasn't even dawn yet. But that didn't matter. He had some questions for Annabeth, and a best friend to rescue.