The apprentice of Circe smirked mockingly at him from behind the window. She bent her finger inwards, gesturing in the universal sign of "come and get me".
He saw red.
Percy snarled like a rabid dog, rage threatening to burn a hole in his throat, and leapt at her. He crashed through the glass, uncaring of the sharp fragments biting into his skin or how he looked to the growing number of spectators. Right now, he just wanted this bitch dead.
It only took him half a second to unsheathe Riptide, and another to take a wild swipe at the spot where he last saw Amethis. The recipient of his attack, to his disappointment, wasn't the soft flesh of his opponent, but air. Percy growled and looked around, head darting from one end of the street to the other, but to no avail. She was gone.
He sighed, rage simmering beneath his skin, and held his head. So now he was imagining things? She had been right there, he swore it. The monster he'd killed a minute ago was all dust now. There was no way he was going crazy.
The sound of hurried footsteps behind him made his back straighten in alarm. Percy turned and narrowly leaned out of the range of a fist aimed to punch his teeth in. He lept back and balled his fists, hungry, and eager for a fight only to be met with...not Amethis.
He blinked. The person in front of him wasn't a little girl, but a man—one he'd never met or seen in his life.
"What—"
Clink.
The stranger dove at him, arm raised high and clutching something gleaming and sharp in his hand. Upon further inspection, Percy saw that it was, of all things, a knife. Strange as it might've been though, his assailant's sinister intentions were clear. Percy sidestepped the slow, far too slow, attack and stuck his leg out, tripping the man and sending him tumbling face-first into the pavement.
He turned as hushed whispers drew his attention. A crowd had gathered around him. Men, women, the elderly. They were all looking at him with the same unblinking, judging eyes that knew nothing of the situation. Percy swore he could also see a policeman or two rushing to the scene.
Not good.
Rather than try to talk his way out, or do something that would make things worse, Percy ran. He bolted as fast he could back to the ship. He didn't want to find out what the police thought of assault in broad daylight. Or murder, for that matter, if they found the store. He was in enough trouble back home already.
Percy rounded a corner only to jerk to a stop as something blocked his path. A figure stood at the end of the street. Close enough for him to recognize her, but too far away for him to do anything about it. The fact made his blood boil.
"Hello, dear friend," the annoyingly smug voice of Amethis called out. "I hope I wasn't missed too dearly?"
It took all Percy had to stop himself from charging in blindly. Rushing an enemy—a prepared one, no doubt—would be a quick trip to the underworld.
So instead, he waited.
"What are you doing here?" Percy asked, straight to the point. "I'd thought our business was finished in Tartarus."
Amethis barked a laugh. "Of course not," she giggled. "I did tell you that I would have vengeance. Vengeance that unfortunately requires your death. I like to keep my promises."
"And I told you to never let me see your face again," Percy retorted sharply. "Seems you didn't get the message."
Amethis frowned. "I understood well enough the first time," she said tersely.
"Then why—"
"—Because I have no place to return to," Amethis explained. "I have no purpose. I do not belong anywhere. After suffering a humiliating defeat by your hands, I sought to return to the place I once called home. That place you destroyed. But there was nothing left. Just the corpses of pirates and the victims they defiled."
Percy narrowed his eyes. Cry him a river, wouldn't she? "None of that was my fault and killing me won't bring them back," he said. "Leave, and do something with your life instead of clinging to the past."
"—And then I find out Circe has moved on to another island of magic," Amethis continued, ignoring him. "As if we didn't matter in the slightest. Like we were expendable and lived only to be replaced by the next wide-eyed fool eager to learn." She laughed bitterly. "Me, a descendant of the goddess herself, expendable. It's unthinkable that my servitude would be repaid with a slap to the face."
Percy chuckled. "That's how it works with them," he taunted. "I bet you weren't anything more than a toy for her amusement. If Circe really cared, she would've come back for you. Instead, she left you with the pirates."
Amethis clenched her jaw, lips curled to reveal teeth as she fell victim to his goading. Circe's student was powerful, there wasn't any doubt about that. Nothing he couldn't handle, of course, but still. She was also arrogant—too believing in her own superiority and blind to those she thought beneath her, like all immortals were. That made her predictable and a little easier to deal with, but there was one thing she had that they didn't. One thing that could make even the most straightforward of opponents seem unpredictable.
Amethis had nothing to lose. She was desperate and would go to any lengths to win, even if it cost her her own life. It was often said that animals were at their most dangerous when backed into a corner.
His eyes caught a figure emerging from behind Amethis—it was the guy who had attacked in the street before. Percy stared in confusion as more figures stepped out from the shadows. Five, ten, twenty. A veritable crowd loomed over Amethis and bored into him with the same, glazed-over, crazed look in their eyes.
Percy swallowed audibly.
To his relief, Cinder appeared beside him. "Oh, a friend?" Amethis hummed curiously, angling herself to face both of them. "Who might you be?"
Cinder's only response was to withdraw her daggers. Amethis pouted, looking like a disappointed child. "Well," she shrugged. "The more the merrier, I suppose. Any ally of Perseus Jackson is certainly no friend of mine."
"Who are they?" Percy asked, gesturing to their onlookers as he tried to stall for time and think of a way out of this mess. The desire to fight had all but left him and now, he just wanted to get far away from here.
Amethis smiled. "Oh them? No one, in particular," she answered lightly. "Just a few humans empathetic to the cause. Harmless, really."
They didn't look harmless. Each one of them held a weapon of some kind in their hands, varying from a tiny pair of scissors to full-on baseball bats, knives, and metal pipes. One even wielded a rusted Greek cavalry sword that looked like it was stolen right from a museum. Percy didn't want to find out whether it was real or not.
Not to mention they were giving him the evilest eye he had ever received.
"Might I say that they are humans?" Amethis chanted from across the way. "Completely mortal, mind you, and blissfully unaware of their actions. If I'm not mistaken, you don't kill humans, do you? Not when they've done nothing wrong. No, you save that punishment for the worst of the worst: monsters and any else who threaten your precious friends." Her eyes narrowed. "Or those unfortunate enough to be caught in your wars. You and your ilk are all the same."
Percy began to back away slowly, careful not to draw Amethis from her monologue. Even against a bunch of untrained humans, he didn't like what would happen if they were forced to fight. Cinder would have no qualms about killing them, mind-controlled or not, and Percy held no delusions about his ability to put them down without injuring a few. If they fought here and now, someone would get hurt, and it sure enough wasn't going to be him.
"—Now I have nothing...no one," Amethis babbled, heartfelt. Gods, she was still going? "And it is all because of you."
"Uh, that's great," Percy said, mentally cursing as it dawned on him that he had no weapon to defend himself if things did go south. Riptide was Celestial Bronze—useless against humans. He was utterly defenseless against a mob of mindless people and the crazy bitch who controlled them.
His eyes fell back onto Amethis. Her arm was pointed skyward, a harsh, red light emanating from her palm. Said light shot into the sky faster than a bullet, dispersing itself, amongst the heavens. Seconds later, it formed a dome that fell back to Earth and encircled the—strangely—empty city, trapping him before he could so much as blink. Now, it seemed they had no other choice but to fight.
"And now," Amethis said, voice carrying farther than it should've. The aura around his enemy intensified, until he had to almost close his eyes completely in order to see her.
"This is where you end."
The glow vanished in an instant.
Her arm fell, taking with it the leash that held the dogs at bay.
Jason stared at the television screen with dead eyes. On it, some reality show starring people he couldn't care less about droned on. He would've changed it to something else, of course, if he had the remote. No, that privilege belonged solely to Hazel, who sat curled up in Frank's lap and had been completely unwilling to part with it. They had only reserved two rooms that night, and since Jason didn't want to be alone with Piper for fear of the awkwardness, that meant he was stuck playing third-wheel to both his friends.
He sighed. Why couldn't they have just asked for their own room instead of acting shy and embarrassed when he'd brought it up? It wasn't like they were hurting for money—his father had been more than generous in that regard. Gods, this whole trip was making him angry and the day hadn't even finished yet.
Jason heard a sharp intake of breath somewhere next to him, followed by a shuffle of movement.
No way.
Where they...doing what he thought they were?
Despite the urge to find out, he didn't dare turn his head. That's it, Jason thought, rising to his feet. Time to get another room—
A grunt of pain made him—involuntarily—turn his head. Frank sat hunched over on the bed, clutching his stomach. Jason's confused eyes met Hazel's and in an instant, he understood.
Something was wrong.
"Percy is fighting something!" Hazel hissed urgently. She stood bolt upright, gaze torn between worry and relief.
"Now?" Jason asked, still coming to terms with the fact that all had been peaceful just seconds before.
Hazel's eyes met the ceiling, rolling them impatiently. "Yes, now," she said annoyedly. "I can get us to where he is before sunset if I push it but we need to leave right now."
"Alright, alright," Jason said, hastening to obey as he hurriedly put on a pair of shoes and a jacket. Hazel blurred past him, out the door and into the room next to theirs. Ten or twenty seconds later, she returned with Piper in tow.
They gathered around in a circle, hands connected. "Everyone ready?" the daughter of Pluto asked.
"Finally," was Jason's last thought before everything faded to black.
Percy swallowed the lump that had built in his throat and regarded his surroundings warily.
Things were so fucked.
He was surrounded on all sides by people being mind-controlled by Amethis. Innocent people who didn't know who he was, where they were, and what they were doing. Percy could never bring himself to do any serious harm. He fought monsters, not humans. And demigods, too, occasionally. He was wholly unprepared for what Amethis had brought to against him and the depths she would sink to.
But the clock was ticking, and if he didn't think of something soon, they would be the ones hurting him.
Easier said than done.
The first man to reach him was old and feeble, appearing far and away from his years of youth. He looked more like he belonged in a nursing home instead of the outside world, yet he dove at Percy with agility unbefitting of his age, madness gleaming in his bloodshot-red eyes. Percy sidestepped the lunge and pushed the man far away from him. He breathed in and then out, sinking deeply into the trance of his instincts in preparation for what was to come.
The others swarmed him, guttural cries spilling from their lips. Percy took a few steps backward, angling his flank away from them and ensuring he wouldn't be surrounded. His arm lashed out on instinct with a palm that struck a woman who had gotten too close in the face. She staggered back briefly, blood dripped from her nose and down her chin, before merely shaking her head and continuing forward.
They just kept coming. Percy kept them at bay with wide, sweeping kicks and punches that were as light as he could make them. To his dismay, they barely had any effect. Blows that probably should've broken something, broken them, were shrugged off without a care in the world. Percy had been pulling his punches, sure, but the force of them would've left even a demigod dazed on the pavement. Were these people even human?
Someone's hot breath on the back of his neck made him straighten in alarm. Percy threw his head back, hearing the sick crunch of something being broken, and then darted away from the buildings towards more open ground. Got to keep moving. Couldn't get surrounded. If he was, then he was a dead man.
Percy felt, more than saw, something flicker in the edges of his vision. Tilting his head slightly, it revealed a rock the size of his fist, barreling through the air towards the back of his skull. Percy swallowed and allowed the rock to sail by him before increasing the pace of his mad dash. His breath began to grow ragged, adrenaline and the unusual amount of effort he had to put into staying alive taking their toll. The people following his trail looked normal enough, but acted like the undead more than anything alive. They shook off everything he threw at them and just wouldn't stop chasing him. Whatever Amethis had done had broken their normal limits, making them stronger, faster, and more resilient to pain. That had to be it. Otherwise, he wouldn't be struggling against, for all intents and purposes, normal humans.
Of course, he could've always—always—kept running. These people wouldn't catch him if he had one leg missing. Or none at all. Demigods had far and away better physical ability than even the most talented of athletes. Hell, some athelets were demigods. He would have no trouble outrunning them, of that Percy was sure.
But the barrier Amethis had put up was another problem. Whatever it was, it was indestructible, from what he tried. Slashing it with Riptide, punching it—nothing worked. And with a horde of zombies who seemed to never tire or feel pain hot on his tale, he hadn't exactly had time to explore all of his options. There had been nothing left to do but run in circles and pray for a miracle.
He paused, head on a swivel in search of Cinder. They had to find a way out of here. Before—
Arms with biceps bigger than his head filled his vision. Their owner, who he was pretty sure he'd left in the dust twenty steps behind, was a large, brawny man who looked an ogre in human skin. The brute growled and grabbed at him, spit flying from his lips. Percy held the offending arms at bay and grunted at the surprising amount of force behind them. Doubt crept into his mind as he began to question whether Amethis had really taken control of people, or had just summoned monsters.
Whatever it was, he didn't get any more time to think about it. Percy turned his head and saw that he hadn't lost his pursuers. They charged at him like a crowd of angry drug addicts looking for a fix and he was helpless to stop one of them from tackling him while he was preoccupied. They collapsed on top of him, creating a veritable dogpile, and Percy could feel the air leaving his lungs as they struggled against the weight on top of them. He felt more pile on, every pound of added weight being more excruciating than the last. Still, more came. Until he wasn't sure which way was up or down. Until he felt like was going to die.
A cold fear settled in his stomach. Was he going to die?
His heart hammered in his veins. Yes, he thought. He would die if he didn't do something. And quick. With a roar, Percy found his feet under him and pushed upwards. Somehow, he rose, bringing the heap of bodies with him and leaving the rest clutching at his legs in a vain effort to try and drag him down to hell with them. His arms did an awkward combination of kicks and punches, anything that would get him loose.
His actions worked, and Percy managed to shrug the last of his attackers off before running again to gain some distance. Acting on a split-second idea, Percy slapped his palms against the concrete, searching for the groundwater he knew most cities were built upon. It was a last-ditch effort to salvage the situation before he had to resort to...something unpleasant.
Percy shook his head. He hoped with everything he held dead that it wouldn't come to that.
He found what he was looking for a few moments later, and pulled with all his might. The street they were on rippled violently. Like a boulder being tossed into an otherwise calm lake. Concrete turned to dust as entire sections of the road were uprooted and torn asunder by tens, then hundreds of spider-web cracks. And from those cracks water rose, pooling together until it formed a tidal wave that was at least thrice his height and more than that in width.
With a simple command, Percy directed it forward. There were cries of alarm and of pain in equal measure as the wall of water went on a tear, cutting through large swaths of the mob like nothing. It carried men and women backwards, slamming them in the pavement and hopefully, breaking a few bones in the process. Hopefully enough to put them out of commission while he dealt with the real threat.
The tidal wave passed into the distance, its momentum slowing and dying until all that was left was a pond a mile long and a set of ruined buildings on each side of the street. A moment of silence overtook the battlefield. Percy used it to catch his breath. The water he'd pulled to the surface hadn't been shallow, far from it, and combined with the exhausting amount of running from earlier, had left him spent.
More silence. No one had leapt out of the shadows to attack him. Seconds became a minute, then two. On the third, Percy felt the tension gradually leave his body and thoughts of victory began to fill his head.
His joy turned to ash however, as he saw broken bodies rise out of the water like the undead. They stood on legs that were bent sideways, necks that looked broken, and flailed their limp, boneless arms as the sound of wailing filled the air once more.
Percy collapsed to his knees. A feeling of hopelessness building in his chest as he looked on.
He genuinely didn't know what to do next.
Cinder was having, in her opinion, a more than adequate day. Perseus had liberated her from the painfully dull and tortuous lifestyle of the average mortal—a life which she was glad to leave behind—and now they were well on their way to reclaim her former self in all its glory. A fine day indeed.
Until this had happened.
Never before had such a wrench been thrown into one of her plans. She was used to success, not failure. The satisfaction of years, centuries of careful plotting bearing results fitting for such an effort. Instead, she was forced to watch those plans slowly crumble to dust before her very eyes, each facet becoming more undone by the second. All because of some petulant insect holding a grudge. And with the ever-looming axe in the form of the Olympians hanging over their heads, Cinder was worried.
But more than that, she was angry.
Her opponent was more feeble than anything noteworthy. A cockroach with an annoying penchant for survival. She danced around Cinder's strikes, ducking and weaving, and contorting her body in ways that defied human physiology. And when she couldn't, her magic was more than enough to pick up the slack.
There was also the subtle—but noticeable to her—assimilation field that surrounded the city for miles around. It would do its work at gradually draining the occupants' stamina, causing them to tire quicker and move sluggishly. Cinder could already feel its effects being compounded by the second. The fact that Perseus didn't seem to notice told well of his inexperience. Or just plain ignorance.
Cinder growled as another one of her tendrils of midnight flew painfully off the mark. Of course, if she could just touch the girl, the battle would've been over in a second. Cinder would take everything in an instant, not even leaving the brat's soul to be reborn as someone else. She would reside forever in the land of eternal darkness, blissfully unaware of her fate. All with a single touch.
Her gaze found Perseus amidst a heap of bodies floating in the water, some motionless and limp, but most still moving, and more importantly, still breathing. Of all things, the boy was fleeing from them instead of fighting. She sighed. Of all the times to keep a conscience. Where was the ferocity and bloodlust she had witnessed from him in Tartarus? Was he not fit for the task, after all?
Cinder spun on her heel and made a beeline towards Perseus. A glance backward revealed that her adversary didn't even give chase, content to lie back and cower behind the prolific number of marionettes seemingly spawned from thin air.
When she reached him, Perseus lay on the ground, sputtering and panting in the aftermath of his flood. Cinder grabbed his arm harshly and pulled him upwards, shoving one of her daggers into his hand. "What are you doing?" she hissed as they ran. "Why have you not killed these people and joined me yet?"
Perseus looked torn and indecisive. "They're innocent," he muttered quietly, words almost stolen by the passing wind. "These people are being controlled. I doubt they even know where they are."
Cinder rolled her eyes. "And how has taking a nonlethal approach worked for you?" she demanded, pointing behind them. "You have clearly deduced that their bodies have been enhanced past their normal limits, no? Incapacitation is not an option at this point."
Honestly, she didn't see the issue. Killing was not murder if it was in self-defense. Hardly a cause for guilt.
Perseus grit his teeth. "Even if that's true," he said angrily. "I'd rather die before murdering innocent people. That'd make me no better than Zeus."
Cinder resisted the urge to throttle him right then and there. Instead, she sighed and calmed her temper before speaking."If you insist on clinging to these naive morals of yours, you will perish," she warned gravely. "And you are of no use to me or your friends dead."
With that, she turned and left him, rushing back to confront a group of mindless humans and their benefactor. She wouldn't inform him of the fact that the humans were already deceased. Or, would be once the magic faded from their bodies. Someone who couldn't even kill one of his own in self-defense didn't deserve to be set free.
Hopefully, the boy would see reason soon enough and save himself before it was too late.
Percy bit his lip as he peered at the oncoming mob. If he was going to make it out of this alive, if he was going to get to Amethis, he would need to fight seriously. There were too many of them to continue being gentle. Ants could kill a dinosaur if their numbers were great enough, or if the dinosaur didn't fight back. Maybe if it were one-on-one he could disarm them, knock a few unconscious, and escape before things went south. But it wasn't. He was up against a crazy lady with nothing to lose and a group of twenty-odd men and women who had every intention of killing him. And Percy didn't think he had another tidal wave in him.
His pocket felt all the heavier for the dagger Cinder had given him. A familiar sense of dread washed over him. He was out of options, out of ideas, and with his strength slipping away from him by the second, it wouldn't be long until Cinder's warning came to pass.
And he was out of time, too. Perhaps it was his exhausted state, or his unwillingness to kill innocents that led him to be unaware of the man running at him from the side. By the time he reacted, it was already too late.
Percy staggered backwards as he felt something jagged and sharp cut into his shoulder. Heat and blood pooled down his arm, staining the water below crimson. The pain snapped him out of his stupor and spurred him into action. With a gasp, Percy threw his good arm forward and crushed the man's nose with his fist.
The others were upon him now. Percy shambled away as fast as he could, clutching his injured shoulder. The wound didn't look too deep or fatal, perhaps a sign of luck more than anything else, but the fact he'd gotten hit in the first place worried him beyond belief.
It also made him come to a chilling realization.
For him to live, these people would have to die.
It was simple, so simple, yet the truth made him want to hurl. Killing monsters who would be reborn anyways was one thing. It was easy to not feel a shred of remorse when they looked so inhuman and ate demigods for breakfast. Killing people, even in self-defense, and robbing them of an afterlife was another matter entirely. What would his mom think? Annabeth, Grover, all the others. Would they call him a monster for defending himself? For protecting them?
So be it, he thought.
Steeling his emotions and solidifying his resolve, Percy reached out to take control of the water inside their bodies. To his disappointment, he could only take hold of a few and prevent the others from moving, not simply kill them outright. He'd hoped to get it over with as quickly as possible, but it seemed that wouldn't be happening. The dagger would have to do the rest.
Percy lined them up in nice, neat rows, manipulating their actions through the water in their bodies—a neat trick he'd tried on a few frogs once. He walked forward until he was only an arm's length from a woman with brown hair and pale skin. This close, he could see the madness radiating in their eyes, the animal bloodlust brought on by Amethis. But if he looked closer, Percy swore he could see an undertone of fear trapped behind the insanity. It was nigh tangible, like the people inside weren't truly gone and had become prisoners inside their own bodies. And that terrified him.
Percy averted his eyes and swallowed. With one, swift motion, he pushed the dagger into the woman's neck, wincing as a watery death rattle tore itself from her lips. In and out. Something warm splashed onto his cheek and the woman collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Percy kept his eyes on the ground and moved onto the next.
Human flesh was softer than a monster's. The dagger sunk in easily and without resistance, almost like he was slicing butter. The longer he killed, the more knowledge Percy could feel enter his mind. Knowledge of the human body, which spots were the weakest, and which were the strongest. Ones that caused the most and least amount of pain. The information was dark, grisly and foreign, unlike anything he knew before. Finding new ways to kill—trying to ease his victms' suffering—seemed to only grant him more of the sick knowledge.
His senses were filled with a twisted rhythm. Smooth flesh parting before a blade, a pained, watery gurgle as his victims choked on their own blood. Then, the shudder of their bodies as they tried and failed to resist their deaths—like an animal being put down at the vet. Finally, was the thud of their bodies as the hold on them was relinquished. A few, he noticed, hit the pavement with a sickening crack that left their skulls split open, blood gushing and staining the water red.
All of it was then concluded by an eerie silence.
After some time, Percy felt a bit of his strength return, and was all the more grateful for it. He rushed to end everyone that remained, ripping the moisture from their organs, blood, and skin. It was quick, and no doubt very painful for the few seconds the process took, but at least he wouldn't have to listen to the sounds anymore.
Percy looked up, finally gaining the courage to survey his handiwork, and wished he hadn't. The sight was...he didn't even know.
Sounds of fighting caught his ears and Percy followed them, trudging through the muck which had become more blood than water. His legs felt heavy, and his brain muddled—like his head was underwater and he couldn't breathe. The journey was long, and he nearly fell down a few times, but eventually he was able to reach Cinder and the real target: Amethis.
Percy stepped out from behind a building and into the street that was thankfully devoid of any blood water or corpses. The two combatants, locked in an eternal struggle, paused and stared at him. Cinder was expressionless, like usual, but there was a hint of relief in her eyes when she saw him. Whether it was because he was alive or that they could continue their journey to free her, he didn't know.
But Amethis...she was different. She looked at him with horror in her eyes. Like he was a monster in human skin pretending to be something else. Percy supposed she wasn't far off the mark.
"Ah, Perseus," the monotone voice of Cinder rang out. "So good of you to join us. Judging from your appearance, I take it you've dealt with the nuisances?"
Percy looked down at himself. His brown jacket, a gift from Annabeth, was stained red. So were his jeans, shoes, and skin. He bet he looked like the devil. All that was missing was the horns.
Cinder nodded at his silence. "Excellent," she smiled. "Now, would you mind dealing with this one here?" she gestured to Amethis. "Our journey has been delayed long enough as it is."
Percy peered at Amethis in a daze. He couldn't even remember why he hated her, or what he was doing. All that remained was an overwhelming sense of fatigue that made him want to drop down and sleep for eternity.
Percy shambled forward. When he reached Amethis, the little girl was paralyzed with fear. She sobbed and muttered things in quick succession. Her words, strangely, seemed far away and quiet, like he'd gone deaf. Percy extended his hand, ready to end it, but one word, quieter than all the others, managed to reach him through the haze.
"Murderer", he read her lips. Percy's hand stilled, the accusation bringing it all back.
He supposed he was a murderer, after all.
Without thought, Percy pressed his fingers to Amethis' forehead, her terrified expression being preserved for all of time.
The little girl that had been the focus of his rage and pain fell limp to the ground.
Percy collapsed with her.
"What...what the hell happened here?" Jason muttered in awe as they gazed upon the nightmarish landscape. The scene was one straight out of a horror movie or the depths of hell itself. No, Piper thought. It was even worse.
As she stepped closer, the first thing Piper noticed was the smell. It smelled like death or dying. Rotting, coppery meat left to prune out in the evening sun. Being a demigod, she was no stranger to violence and brutality, having seen friends die in a variety of horrible ways. A girl having her throat bitten out by an Empousai. Another, dying a slow, painful death after all of her limbs were removed by a sadistic, torture-loving Telekhine. One time, there was even a boy who'd had his entire midsection—ribs, organs, and all—pushed out of his back by an ogre's mace. Everything had been red, then. So much red. The sight and smell of it had plagued her nightmares for months on end.
This was far worse than any of them.
"Who could've done this?" Jason whispered, looking green—literally green in the face.
Piper didn't know the answer. All she could do was kneel down and begin emptying her lunch out onto the pavement.
Cinder eyed the slumbering demigod before her. The normally witty and vexing child had been reduced to a jaded shell of his former self after handling those insects. He looked pitiful now, writhing in his sleep and features twisted as if in pain. Hm, Cinder noted as she studied the expression further. The killing of the nuisances had taken more of a toll than expected. It was easy to forget that under the surface, Perseus was just a boy. A powerful one who had seen more than his fair share of bloodshed and hardship, but still a child. He was not steel that could be sharpened solid if one's will was strong enough. It had been foolish to think he would remain unbending in the face of such adversity.
A pained groan and more tossing made her think twice about leaving Perseus to overcome the weight of his actions on his own. Cinder's hand inched forward, poised to wake him, only to still at the last moment. She narrowed her eyes and, after some thought, decided against the action.
Fortunately, he at least had the decency to keep the ship moving, if nothing else.
From months of careful observation, she could see that Perseus still held reservations and naive hopes about the plan. Or was it delusions? Cinder didn't doubt that he foolishly believed they could liberate her with no mishaps or resistance from his former comrades. That life would return to what it once was with the removal of Zeus and his regime. Dare she say, the fool even believed that a dreadful tale such as this one could ever hope to have a joyful ending. No, Perseus' fate had been irrevocably changed the moment he'd wandered into the pit. From now on, he would be fighting his friends, his family, and was expected to do what was necessary if said constituents opposed them. The sooner he discarded his childish delusions and faced the cold, harsh reality of the world, the better.
So considering that, Cinder found that she held no sympathy for him. Nyx had warned him, after all. It had been of his own volition to accept.
Cinder turned her eyes back on Perseus, content to watch over him in tandem with cataloging her thoughts. Despite herself, she caught her eyes lingering a bit longer than they should have. His visage at rest, she had found, was a most interesting medium for her study of the mortal existence. How had Gaea, of all beings, succeeded where she had failed? How had she managed to create such fascinating creatures who had the privilege of both choice and a limited lifespan? Every individual human held the capacity to be both God and The Devil. Both good and evil or a mix of both, instead of simply adhering to the nature they were born with. They possessed the ability of change, and wasn't that interesting? Cinder wasn't envious, she wasn't, but one couldn't help but wonder why the void had given such capabilities to one who lacked the necessary intellect and capacity to use them properly.
Perseus writhed and whimpered once more in front of her, still suffering the consequences of having the safety and comfort of his naivety ripped away. It made Cinder ponder if he would remain strong enough to continue the journey and uphold his oath. Or, if he would break and revert to the fragile interior she knew he was hiding.
A most interesting query.
November 10th, 2021
"Get up."
Percy groaned. "Five more minutes, mom," he whined, burrowing deeper under the sheets.
A boot connected sharply with his spine. "Up, now!" Cinder hissed venomously from above him. He didn't stir. The boot connected again, harder this time. "We have company."
At those words, Percy's eyes snapped open. He rose to his feet immediately, the fog of his nightmares clearing, and peered around. His sights zeroed on a blond man standing tens of feet from them, hovering just above the surface of the water. His heart sank to his boots. It didn't take much imagination to figure out that their mysterious guest was a god, or someone sent by them.
"Greetings," the man called across the waves. "I am known to many as Hercules, slayer of the Nemean Lion and completer of the twelve labors. I was tasked by Lord Zeus to either confirm or deny certain suspicions. Suspicions that, frighteningly enough, could herald the end of the world." He turned and locked eyes with Percy. "It seems that my father was right to send me, after all."
Percy's heart hammered in his chest. Shit. Shit. Hercules? Why was he here? Had Zeus found them out already? "How?" he croaked.
Hercules quirked his head, as if not hearing him over the waves. "How did your lord come into possession of such information?" Cinder questioned thunderously. "This place and our actions here are not common knowledge. The Night would never reveal such information so freely."
Their guest of honor shrugged. "The devil if I know," he said. "I obey orders, not question them."
The god's hand dropped down, reaching for something behind his back. Cinder growled. "Your presence bears no weight here," she declared boldly, bravely. "We are far from Olympus, too far for you to be anything more than fodder. I suggest you choose your next actions carefully."
Hercules barked a hearty laugh. "Is that so, girl?" he replied indulgently. "I was mortal, once. Weakened as I may be here, that does not mean I am helpless. Certainly not when dealing with one woman and Poseidon's brat."
Out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw Cinder swallow nervously as her intimidation tactic failed, which only made him worry more. Yea, not good. Definitely not good.
Percy gripped Riptide, full-on ready to throw himself forward and hope he survived. Thinking about it now, he had lived a good life. He had been alive longer than most demigods—most children of Poseidon—and had done things that none before him could even dream of. And although he hadn't woken up with any plans of dying that day, giving his life so that the people he cared about wouldn't be killed for nothing didn't sound too bad either.
Cinder's voice stopped him before he could get himself killed. "Perhaps we can settle this dispute with words, not might," she said, making Hercules raise an eyebrow. Cinder paused a moment before speaking again. "After all, you and I are alike in more ways than you can imagine. Your beloved Andrastia would no doubt agree with me."
Hercules froze. "Who are you?" he demanded, suddenly furious. The wind picked up, beginning to howl violently around them. "How do you know that name? And what is your relationship with the boy?"
"I am nothing more than a proxy to one who shall not be named," Cinder replied smoothly. "One, who despises the gods and what they stand for—your father included. Our benefactor has seen the lies, the manipulation, and the abuse of power under the guise of benevolence. More importantly, they have seen you, standing tried and true to your principles, only to abandon them when it matters the most. They have seen it all and have decided it is time for a change. I stand before you with an offer to be a part of that change."
She was a good speaker, Percy decided. Not like those slimy politicians on television, or persistent salesmen who never knew how to take no for an answer. You could hear the dishonesty in their tones, like they only cared about winning you over, no matter what kinds of bullshit they had to spout. No, Cinder believed in her words. But more than that, she made Percy believe them—even more than he already had. If he hadn't already been a victim of Zeus', he would've probably still gone with her for that alone.
Hercules scoffed. "Haven't I heard that before, girl," he waved dismissively. "It's going to take more than false promises and empty conviction to gain my fealty. I'm not some two-drachma whore whose devotion can be easily won with a few honeyed words, like that boy you've got wrapped around your finger."
Percy's blood rose in his veins, the desire to fight igniting once more. He took a menacing step forward, making Hercules tense, and was about to escalate the situation further until Cinder's hand grabbed his shoulder in a crushing grip and pulled him aside.
"Stop, you fool!" she whispered harshly in his ear. "This is a chance to gain an ally, one amongst the gods! Do not squander it or else I will kill you myself, consequences be damned. Just stay there and remain silent until I finish speaking."
Percy grit his teeth and nodded, backing down. Cinder looked at him with gratitude in her eyes before walking forward. Forget what he'd said about her not inheriting Nyx's temper. She could be scary when she wanted to be.
"Now, if we are done acting foolishly in the name of pride, I have a proposition to offer," Cinder announced.
Hercules raised an eyebrow curiously and silenced the wind, content to wait just a few minutes more before killing them.
Cinder paused before speaking." Are you satisfied with your current lot in life?" she asked genuinely, making the god frown. "Once a great and renowned hero being reduced to a mere errand boy, of all things. Have you no shame?"
Percy's head snapped to her. They were trying to recruit him, not insult him, right? "What are you—"
"—And wife, not even of a year, taken as a mistress of Zeus because the dog couldn't resist the beauty of his son's beloved." Cinder continued sharply. "Is that how you wish to be remembered? A lapdog for the Olympians? A doorman for those born more fortunate than you? If not, then I ask you this: Who are you?"
Hercules looked bewildered. The question, what? went unsaid.
Cinder answered. "You are a lost soul adrift among a sea of evil," she stated matter-of-factly. "Originally filled with pure intentions, you have grown jaded under the onslaught of bureaucracy and greed, determination sapped away until all that remains is a void of apathy and disinterest. Change, you have found, does not come so easily when you are a part of the problem. Gaze into the abyss long enough and the abyss shall gaze back at you, or so the saying goes." She smiled benevolently. "Am I wrong?"
Hercules looked floored, at a loss for words. Or, it seemed, he only had one. "How?" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.
Cinder tilted her upwards, satisfaction gleaming. "It is as I explained earlier," she said lightly. "Our benefactor knows all, sees all, fathoms all. And, if for some reason they do not, that is my purpose as an instrument of their will."
Hercules stood there, eyes wide, as the tension began to fade completely from his body. It seemed words did cut sharper than any knife after all. Now Percy almost felt bad for trying to fight the guy.
The son of Zeus sighed heavily, deeply, and brought himself into a sitting position, hovering just above the water's surface. He suddenly looked older than The Fates themselves, gazing into them with wizened eyes that betrayed all that Percy had heard about him in the legends.
"Everything you have said is...precisely right," Hercules admitted with a sigh. Percy's brow wrinkled with curiosity. "All my life I have thought myself strong. I strove to be powerful, have reveled in the fact that I was, and used that strength for my own benefit. Imagine my surprise, that upon achieving godhood, I found that it was nothing more than a heat haze. A meaningless goal that fades when one reaches it."
Percy frowned. He found that he could relate to the old god in more ways than one. Chasing strength and power when one had no enemies was the mark of a fool, as Chiron had always lectured. It was the reason why he'd never trained seriously whenever the fighting ended. There just wasn't a point to it.
The lesson, thinking back on it, might've also just been his old teacher's way of distracting them from the fact that they were soldiers and always would be. Born for the sole purpose of protecting Olympus and the gods. The fond memory of a simpler time long gone was enough to bring a smile to his lips.
Percy relaxed his body and returned Riptide to its place in his pocket, confident now that he wouldn't have to fight for his life any time soon. Then, he paid close attention to the god's next words.
"—I set my sights elsewhere, towards a more virtuous purpose," Hercules narrated sagely, eyes looking up in remembrance. "I battled monsters, aided villages in their time of need. And, as they requested, supported the Olympians in their war against the Gigantes. For my service, I was offered the greatest reward a mortal could ever receive. Godhood, and eternal life. It was only then, when I no longer gazed from without, but from within, did I begin to see the rot that had taken hold of Olympus."
Hercules looked up at them, blinking away the haze of his tale. "The gods are sick, boy," he said bitterly. Percy hung on his every word. "Either sick, or they themselves are the disease, I do not know. Bearing children simply to use them as tools of war or playthings in their twisted games. Men I knew personally, brothers by all accounts, were slain by my father because they had grown too powerful. Or learned something they should not have. Once I became one of them, I endeavored to change things from the inside." He laughed harshly, devoid of all warmth. "I believed I could, given that I was the son of the almighty Zeus. Unfortunately, as your friend so eloquently put it, life does not work that way. I was cast aside and given the 'honorable' position of a gatekeeper. A guardian of places that none in a million centuries would ever venture. The Great Hercules, a doorman. What a joke."
Percy nodded slowly and shivered at the tale. It resonated with him on a deep, personal level. Hercules could've been him, had he chosen immortality that night after the war. Or when he'd defeated Kronos. He would've become jaded and hateful, stuck guarding doors and forever despising his life. He would've had to watch his family and friends grow old and die, slowly slipping into obscurity as their children and grandchildren forgot about him. No worse hell existed.
"So what will you do?" Cinder spoke, taking a step forward. "Will you continue living in disgrace for all eternity, watching your father grow more monstrous by the century? Or will you help me—help us—put an end to the madness?"
Hercules sighed and rose to a standing position. "It isn't that simple," he admitted glumly. "I am powerless. Figuratively, not literally. I possess no influence within the government itself—Olympus. As I stated before, my duties begin and end at being a gatekeeper to sacred places. Nothing more, nothing less."
Cinder chuckled. "Oh, it is that simple, Hercules. You won't need to possess any influence whatsoever. Simply allow us passage and when the time comes, aid our benefactor in their hour of need."
Hercules looked down at that, deep in thought. He seemed to consider something for a moment, but then shook it away. The seconds passed on slowly, and when the god eventually looked up, there was a fire in his eyes that reminded Percy of someone discovering his passion again. He knew right then and there that they had him.
"I will join you," Hercules began. "On the condition that my voice will have a place in the new government. "And I will need your word that the one taking my father's place won't be an imposter only seeking to gain power. Kronos, Gaea—I won't trade one tyrant for another."
Cinder dipped her head. "Of course," she agreed. I find these terms to be...acceptable. "We—"a hand roughly pushed his head downwards in the form of a humble bow—"welcome you to the cause."
The son of Zeus nodded, inclining his own head. And just like that, Hercules, the strongest demigod in history and an opponent Percy wasn't confident he could beat even in his weakened state, was helping them overthrow Olympus. It sounded too good to be true.
A period of silence followed after their agreement. Percy had no clue what to say at a time like this, and Cinder was apparently content to bask in the afterglow of victory.
Finally, though, it seemed she'd had enough. "As much as I enjoyed speaking with you, we must be on our way?" she said in askance.
Hercules held up his hand. "Wait," he stopped them. Curiosity and an unasked question showed clear on his face. "Who exactly is the benefactor you speak of? There are few left with the strength to challenge Olympus, and even fewer with the desire to do so."
Cinder shook her head. "I cannot tell, I'm afraid," she said. "You will know soon enough, but not before. For now, bide your time and remain as you are. Fortune will smile upon you in the very near future."
Hercules frowned. "Not even a name?" he pressed. "I do not exactly feel confident in following someone I haven't seen or heard before."
"In time, my friend," Cinder chided. "All in due time. Now, if you will excuse us?"
Hercules sighed defeatedly and nodded before disappearing in a rush of wind. Percy blinked, dazed, and then made his way below deck, determined to get some more shut-eye before they arrived.
It had been a hell of a day already, and it wasn't even noon.
A/N:
Long time, no update, eh? Apologies for the wait, but I had an unusual amount of difficulty writing this chapter. Writer's block and a lack of inspiration can be an absolute pain when they decide to spontaneously arrive. Not to mention the constant second-guessing whenever I write anything and that editing chapters longer than 7k words are a slog. But now it's here, and I hope you all enjoyed the longest chapter to date.
Not exactly a conflict in the conventional sense this time around. I wanted to touch a bit more on Percy's moral values and experiment a bit. Things are going to heat up in the future—both action-wise and plot-wise—so stay tuned.
As always, I try to make things seem realistic and true to the characters. The narrative would not be interesting to write or read in the slightest if everyone s chose the optimal and least harmful path every time. Sometimes the best path is the least obvious and that can be difficult to consider in the heat of the moment. I hope I've done a decent job at painting the plot as flawed and real to the reader.