A/N: So the first arc of this story will be about eight chapters long, because it'll just be an introduction to the story but I know you'll all like it nonetheless. I shall pre-write this arc, and release the chapters in a period of three weeks (because I enjoy letting readers wait and suffer for updates). I hope you all enjoyed what I did with the intro and were intrigued enough to stick around. Leave me a comment, vote, kudos or review to tell me what you think. With the number of books I've been sprouting these days, along with all the ideas, it's getting hard to manage. I hope you enjoy the story! Thanks for reading,
-TripleHomicide.
THE MAN walked silently, lost in his own thoughts. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes with his free hand, readjusting the mask which covered a large portion of his features and face. In his right hand he carried a bag, full of goods necessary for the near future. He walked through the town listlessly and aimlessly, occasionally gazing at the people around him.
The town he had hidden in was a small one. None knew of his identity or his affiliation to the ancient gods, their existence an insignificant story now to most. The people of the world had started seeing the gods and goddesses as just myths; stories the priests had created to ensure the people followed their orders. And he wanted to keep it that way. The man kept his head down, his green eyes glaring at the road as he made his way to the path which went up to the snowy peaks of the mountains where he resided. The place he'd hidden in for three millennia. He had been watching the same town, the same people and their descendants, over and over and over again. Watching the mortals of the real world advance and sometimes reconstruct themselves in ways he thought was impossible.
The man bit his bottom lip as he walked. It had been ages since he had stepped foot into the town and he didn't know why he had decided to do so that day. But with winter coming, he'd needed the goods. Perhaps he was feeling nostalgic? He missed the days when he could roam the forests without a care for the world. He missed the times when he had fought alongside the greatest heroes of Greece. Before he had been forced and tricked into taking a single bite from the golden apple.
Before he had been given the curse of semi-immortality.
"Hey!," A certain stout bloke in a white tunic yelled as he bumped into him. "Watch your step." The man didn't even bother looking up at him. He continued walking along the path. He had gone into hiding after the earth mother had first risen, threatening to destroy the gods and everything as they knew it.
The gods of Olympus. The council of immortal beings who had destroyed his life with an oath he had sworn when he had only seen five summers. An oath he'd been forced to make, swearing loyalty to Olympus alone, promising to help them when they needed him, in exchange for allowing him to live.
The insufferable immortal beings had taken everything away from him. And he had been trying his best to stay under the radar. He'd worked at it for nearly two millennia. And this town—at the edge of the collection of city-states which formed Greece—was his safe place. The Olympians could see all, he knew. But he had cashed in a bargain he'd made with a certain daughter of Hecate called Blackstone two thousand years ago, when she had still been alive. She'd cloaked him, hid his scent and his home at the top of the mountain, from prying eyes.
It was the one thing he would forever be grateful for. The man walked lazily up the winding path, humming a tune to himself, lost in his thoughts once again. He didn't love his new life, per se. It was simple, fulfilling and monotonous. It didn't feel real. But at least it was free from the Olympians. There were no commands from gods who were too lazy to do things on their own. There were no duels with the Olympians who wanted him dead. And there certainly weren't any stupid quests where he could die anytime he turned around.
Sure, he missed the thrill of battle and his friends—The Guardians of Greece, as the world had come to know them—by his side. But although he did not particularly enjoy this simple kind of life, he would prefer it to his life thousands of years before, any day. The man walked on, climbing steadily up the mountain. He lived in solitude, without anyone to share his memories with. That was another downside of the curse of semi-immortality. He had to watch everyone he ever loved die and go to the Underworld. He also had to be at the beck and call of every Olympian for his entire lifetime.
Perhaps that was why he had distanced himself so much from society. He did not want to get close to anyone—not after what had happened the last time. He couldn't bear it if he was forced to leave them behind or if they came to harm because the Olympians couldn't take care of their own problems. He did not want to have to watch someone he loved die. He couldn't stand it if he watched the light fade from someone else's eyes.
The man tilted his head as he finally neared the apex of the mountain. His home was situated on a cliff, overlooking the little village he had come from and hewn into the mountain so well it was unnoticeable from a distance. The mountain top was already full of snow and he finally unmasked himself. He was out of the public eye and so could breathe freely now.
Mist collected in front of him at his sigh. He glanced around him, as he neared the place he had come to call home. As he was walking, he felt something fall from his bag. The man glanced down, then frowned at the apple—it was reddish gold, reminding him so much of the one he'd been tricked into taking. The one which had ruined his life and which wouldn't just let him die and join his loved ones.
As he bent to pick it, his mind drifted to something else. His fingers touched the white snow on the ground and he shuddered involuntarily. Greece was supposed to have only three seasons, controlled by the Horai, sisters of the Three Fates. But ever since the birth of Khione, the new goddess of snow, a millennium ago, the city-states in the North had experienced the child of Boreas's control over ice and snow whenever Persephone returned to her husband and his domain.
The man suddenly tensed and shot up, eyes narrowing. He could feel a presence. Someone had infiltrated his safe haven.
Tip-toeing slowly, not making any noise with his feet, the man with the black hair and green eyes made his way to the cliff his home sat on. His hands moved to the knives he kept concealed but very much near, in his cloak. He was apprehensive. How had someone found his home? Had Lou's magic finally given out? He pursed his lips. Or maybe it was just a random traveller who happened to stumble on the place.
When he finally rounded the corner and spotted the intruder, the man hissed, recoiling back as he gazed into the face of the regal goddess. How had she found him? How had she known where he was?
"Greeting, Son of Poseidon," The Goddess of Wisdom's face was blank. But her eyes held anger and fury and a little bit of triumph at having been the one to find him. He swore silently, cursing Hades and Tartarus and all the immortal beings against him. He hadn't seen Athena in forever—not since what had happened eighteen summers before. She had been the only god he hadn't hated and she had found him in the city of Thebes, far away from his home here. He hadn't told her about this place.
So how had she figured it out?
"Don't look so surprised, Perseus," Athena said, tilting her head to the side, grey eyes flickering. "I am the goddess of wisdom, after all." He bared his teeth, forcing the words to come out, remembering how sour things had been when she had left him eighteen years before.
"How did you find me?" He said through gritted teeth. He couldn't deal with the gods. Not now. Not when he was starting to feel comfortable in his own skin again.
Athena shrugged, her calculating eyes staring at him. "It was quite easy, you know. Magic hid you from our gazes. And all magic has a loophole. It's a good thing that Hecate owed me that favour."
The son of Poseidon, Perseus, didn't let go of his weapons. He slipped into a defensive stance, ready to fight if the need arose. "So what do you want, Athena?" He said her name like it was the worst insult he could imagine. And to him, it was.
"The Olympians require your assistance," She said. As usual, she was blunt and went straight to the point. "Greece is in peril."
"Do I look like I give two schists about Greece and you Olympians?" He snarled. Her eyes flashed. He had become bitter, yes. Because his life had been snatched away from him once before. He wasn't going to let it happen again.
"The gods need the Last Guardian," Athena said, and he could tell she was trying not to blow up on him. "Or else everything…everyone dies."
He snorted. "That'll be good for me, Athena, and you know it. If the world ends I can finally die in peace and rid myself of you and your family." Athena narrowed her eyes, then said, "It is not up for debate, Perseus. Lord Zeus commands it."
'Like I care what Thunder-thighs wants," He sneered angrily. He wanted nothing to do with the Olympians. He wanted death to come for him. If that refused to happen, he was satisfied with living his life in seclusion and hiding. Sure, he hated immortality, but he didn't want to kill himself. He wouldn't stoop so low as to commit suicide. He wouldn't die a coward. Athena ploughed on like she hadn't heard him, "After the giant war, as you are well aware, the gods decided to place their remaining power into the sacred stone of Olympus. And that stone is gone. It was stolen from its place."
She paused for effect. "The world is unravelling, Perseus. And we do not know who is causing it. All over Greece two or more of the royal families are disappearing. Last night, the Queen of Mycenae was taken and the crown of the King with her. People are being killed each night. The gods are worried and Zeus commands that you find out what is happening, retrieve the missing items and take care of the menace before it becomes a threat."
He had listened in silence. All she had said was bad. But it didn't concern him. "And what if I refuse?"
Instantly Athena was before him, disappearing from her place and reappearing in his face, her arm outstretched. She grabbed his own arm, and even though it was obscured by his tunic, he knew that she knew there was a tattoo of a trident and a laurel wreath on his bicep. She knew what it meant; she knew what it signified.
"I am truly sorry I have to do this to you. I hate that you have to go through this again," Athena murmured. "But Olympus requires your aid. Fulfil the oath you made to the gods or Fate shall have her revenge. The Styx shall have your soul. The Sea of Khaos will hold you forever, in eternal torment."
At her words he felt his arm heating up. His tattoo started to burn, sending searing pain throughout his whole being. He dropped his knives in shock, the pain blinding him as he fell to his knees. Athena did not let go. A vague smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils as he felt the pain immobilise him.
"You are required to serve Olympus, Son of Poseidon," Athena said, bending to join him on her knees. Her grey eyes were hard, but he saw flashes of pity—pity and whatever had been there eighteen years ago when they had met in Thebes.
"You are the last of the Guardians of Greece. Your duty is to safeguard its people," She said, voice still soft.
She let go of his arm and he sighed in respite as the pain fled—as the sign of his oath, etched onto his arm, cooled down. Athena passed him another sad look, then spoke, "Do your duty, Perseus. Fulfil your oath." And then she was gone.
PERSEUS glanced around him in distaste, wondering how and why he had ended up here, all the way in Athens. He didn't want to help the gods of Olympus. But his oath demanded it to be so.
And although he wanted to die or remain in hiding if that didn't happen, he never broke an oath. He never forgot a promise. Perhaps during this new journey, he would die a gruesome death worthy of the heroes he had worked with in the past. He would annoy an Olympian so much they would strike him down and end the curse of semi-immortality.
And then he would finally join his friends and family down in Elysium.
Perseus gazed at the city spread before him, from the acropolis. He could see the statues and temples dedicated to the goddess he had had a conversation with a few hours prior. He glared around, silently cursing Hecate for aiding Athena to find him.
The city of Athens had been a refuge to him before. It had been his home. He had been there when his brother Theseus had turned into an arse and then proceeded to get lost in the Underworld. It was Athena who had taken him to Olympus; she had revealed his identity as an illegitimate child of the sea god. And then everything that happened after that was history.
He pursed his lips as he adjusted the mask he used to cover his nose, mouth and chin. He didn't bother shielding his entire face. There was a possibility no one in the city remembered him. But some immortals and monsters were probably still lurking in the polis.
People who wanted revenge for some mistakes he'd made centuries ago.
He sighed. Might as well get it over and done with quickly. His first step would be finding more information on the crown and the stone that had been stolen. If he found out why the crown was gone, he might be able to track down the persons who had been strong enough to break through the Olympian's barriers and steal the object which held their power.
It was a stupid decision on their part, which went to show how unfit they were to rule. Why would you place all your power inside a single artefact and then just hide it away?
If he knew why the crown and stone were taken, he might be able to find out the reason for the kidnapping of the royals. All that he had to do was dig a little deeper.
The son of Poseidon spurred his feet into walking. He knew exactly where to find the place he was looking for. Only the gods and their descendants, along with the ruling family of Athens could find the Libraries of the Gods, constructed by Athena herself. Perseus had been there when it had happened and even years later, he still did not understand the importance of storing baseless and completely useless information in books and scrolls when one had a mind which could remember every single tiny detail in the universe.
He could never understand the gods, no matter how hard he tried. Perseus shook his head as he walked, adjusting the black cloak which covered the armour he was wearing. His fingers rested on the hilt of his sword, a gift from a certain huntress friend, ages ago. Anaklusmos was its name and he was proud that Zoë had deemed him good enough to give him her most prized possession, after what had happened with Heracles.
He remembered all too clearly, the wars he had fought in, in the name of his father and the gods. He had participated in The Trojan War, The Persian War, The Peloponnesian War and several others. He had drawn a line when Mother Earth came knocking. He had left after she and her bloody war had killed all who were dear to him.
After he had had to watch the gods stand by and do nothing.
If he, Dionysus, Heracles and Zoë Nightshade had not resolved their differences in time, Mother Gaea would have destroyed everything. But of course, the gods had tried to make him immortal before the final battle, just to heighten their chance at survival. Zoe was already semi-immortal and Dionysus and Heracles would become gods after the war—Heracles was the strongest man alive and Dionysus…well, he had his own skills. Hera and Apollo had tricked Perseus, with Athena's help and he'd taken a bite of an apple of immortality.
Just one bite.
Not enough to make him fully immortal, but enough to stop him from dying by any means other than being felled by an object of power of an Olympian god or someone higher up, like a titan or primordial. And the gods refused to kill him. They wouldn't let their greatest asset go to waste.
He made his way through the streets, dodging people and animals and guards, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. He couldn't allow anything to delay him. He would find the gods' precious items and then ask one of them who hated him (probably Ares) to kill him and be done with it. Perseus chuckled silently to himself as he crossed a bridge over a small lake. He didn't look at the water. He did not spare it a glance and marched past, making his way to the library at the edge of the city.
He arrived at his destination a few minutes later, slipping into an empty path behind the palace. He glanced around him. The place was empty, free from the mortals or any other beings, for that matter. The road seemingly went on and on for a few cubits.
"Emfanisou," He murmured to himself in Greek. "Show yourself." He felt the shift in the air. He felt the magic humming, reverberating in waves around him. Perseus watched as a giant building shimmered into existence before him.
The Mist worked wonders. It was able to hide such a huge building away from the prying eyes of Prometheus' creations. He was sure knowledge of the library was lacking. Most people did not believe in the gods these days. The temples were just there, attended to by the priests, but not prayed in as frequently as they had been before. He could tell the Age of Greece was ending. Things were changing. There were very few demigods too. Like Athena had said, he was the last of the Guardians of Greece. The remaining survivor from the dawn of heroes. The only one left.
He took a step forward, stretching out his arm. The giant bronze door swung open for him and silently, footsteps still inaudible as always, he marched into the Libraries of The Gods.
PERSEUS frowned as he lazily ambled through the rows upon rows of shelves. The library was empty, deserted. He hadn't even seen the Keeper of the Library since he'd entered a few minutes before. It was silent, like a graveyard and Perseus tilted his head to the side as he walked, trying to detect any sound.
There was nothing.
Shrugging to himself, Perseus walked over to a section of the library he knew would hold the answer to his questions. The Artefacts section was overflowing with scrolls and he sighed silently, brow creasing as he wondered how in his mater's name he was going to find what he was looking for.
The man unmasked himself, inhaling the fresh and pure air of the library. He had to do things quickly, so he could disappear before the gods decided to send him on more harrowing tasks. (Unless they called him to kill him. Then he would gladly accept their offer.)
Biting his inner cheek, he began his search.
-TWO HOURS LATER-
Perseus groaned tiredly. All the scrolls were useless. All the pieces of parchment didn't contain any information on the stone of Olympus. He'd found some information about the crown of Mycenae, though. It was a normal ruddy golden crown with a red diamond in the centre.
He had snorted at that information. Maybe the one attacking the royals was just after gold and jewellery. Maybe they were just a really well-trained thief, who was stealing to provide food for themselves and whatever family they had.
He had pushed the crown away from his head, though. He would have to visit Tiryns, the polis which governed the other city-states that fell under its jurisdiction and formed the Kingdom of Mycenae. He'd have to ask for witness accounts and see the bodies of the dead which Athena had spoken about. Maybe if he did that, he would glean some information on the menace attacking Greece.
But what if the two cases weren't connected? What if the person kidnapping the royals had nothing to do with the Sacred Stone of Olympus? His eyes scanned the scroll in his hand, narrowing as he read the words written in Greek.
The stone of Olympus was created millennia upon millennia ago after the Earth mother and her children had been vanquished by the Heroes of Olympus of Old. The gods decided to place fragments of their power in the stone and sealed it in the Grove of Dodona, where none would find it unless the grove wished them to do so.
He continued reading. The stone would hold power the gods could rely on when the need came. Power they could call upon, even when their thrones on Olympus were destroyed and the palace of Lord Zeus blown to dust. The Sacred Grove of the Great Mother Rhea hides from the view of man or god, but calls upon those who seek it when it is necessary.
After reading a few more lines, he arched an eyebrow. He still thought it was a bad idea to record the information. Anyone with bad intentions could use it for evil. But maybe, just maybe, the Library wasn't so useless. He stood. Perseus knew where to go now. The Grove of Dodona awaited.
One week later…
PERSEUS arched an eyebrow as he stared around him. The scroll from the Library had been strangely accurate and detailed. Like the rolled parchment had stated, he'd started hearing voices since he left the Library. He'd dreamed of the Grove for seven days and the dreams had led him to where he needed to go.
The Grove was calling to him. He knew it probably held spirits and mystical dryads. But he was getting sick of hearing Come To Me at every corner. But, he supposed, the dreams were probably a good thing.
They showed him the path to take, to get to the Grove of Dodona. Maybe Mother Rhea had asked the spirits to send him the dreams, to help her children the gods. In the seven days he had journeyed, he'd passed through several city-states he hadn't been in for hundreds of years.
And like Athena had said, in each and every one of them, a single royal or sometimes two, was missing. Perseus had been getting more and more perplexed as he went on. Being alone with the ruddy stallion who wouldn't stop its running-tap drawl, he had had a lot of time to think, to try to come up with a game plan and curse his existence at the same time.
He'd also cursed the horse, Blackjack to high hell but who cared?
Perseus had finally arrived at his destination, Arcadia, which held the Sacred Grove. He had avoided the city itself, not wanting to be bothered by the nosy Arcadians. A mysterious masked man riding through their city would surely send heads spinning, especially when there weren't many travellers this time of the year. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, the son of Poseidon jumped off his horse. He did not know what he was looking for, but maybe, if he saw where exactly the stone had been hidden he'd be able to find something. Who knew, maybe the spirits of the oak trees would aid him and give him some information. Surely they had seen something or someone.
Perseus turned to his steed, saying, "Stay here. I'll be back in about an hour's time." The horse neighed and thanks to his descent, he could understand it saying, Sure thing.
Snorting again as the horse began to chew on the grass, the green-eyed man looked around him. They'd manoeuvred into the forests of Arcadia, which were very well known for their mystical and mythical beasts and places. Perseus smiled as he remembered the greatest mortal huntress, Atalanta, a girl he'd fancied when they had met after the Calydonian Boar Hunt, while they were both on the Argo. She had been there for the Giant War too and he remembered seeing a rogue goddess turn the huntress and her husband into wild giant lions, who had then slinked away from the battle.
He didn't know if they were still alive but he knew they had spawned a race of lion-human beasts, called the leonte, who weren't too pleasant to be around when they were trying to bite your head off.
The giant oak gates stood tall and proud before him. He had heard the voices again when he had entered the forest and The Great Mother's Grove had led him to it as if it had something extremely important to share with him. Perseus pursed his lips, taking in a deep breath. He'd seen worse than an orchard of trees but he was hesitant. He couldn't understand his unease.
Steeling his nerves, he walked forward as the oak gates swung inwards. Perseus marched into the Grove of Dodona, without so much as a glance behind him.
PERSEUS gritted his teeth as he walked on the path that had shimmered into existence upon his entry into the Grove. He could hear wind chimes and the rustle of leaves. And voices.
The voices were the worst.
And apparently, the tree spirits were feeling really chatty that afternoon. Trying not to shout at the oak trees to shut their mouths, Perseus walked in the straight path. He kept his hand on his sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice. He couldn't help but shiver as he walked. It was like something hanging in the air. Something dark, despite the cheery voices of the trees and their wind-chimes.
"The Grove has been defiled." The voice made him spin, drawing his sword instantly. Perseus narrowed his eyes when he spotted the feeble old man in the priestly attire. The man paid no heed to his weapon and continued. "An old one has sullied these grounds and stolen something meant to be hidden away."
Perseus cocked his head to the side, not lowering his sword. "Who are you?" He asked.
"The Priest of the Voices of Dodona," The feeble old man announced. "I am Andraes, grandson of Phoebe the Titaness and son of Asteria. Lady Rhea said to expect you, son of Poseidon."
Perseus lowered his sword. So The Great Mother had been helping him after all. He stepped closer to the frail old man. "You mentioned an old one? What did you mean?"
"I am not allowed to say, by forces which are far greater than Olympus," The man said, shaking his head. "But He was here. He had a red cloak and blood red eyes and He took away the Stone of Olympus." Perseus was silent, soaking in all the information. "The man stole what has been keeping this place alive for centuries and the Grove is dying." Perseus had read about that too. The Grove's life force was linked to the stone, as a precaution. Eventually, the Grove would die and the stone would shatter, sending back all the power to the Olympian's thrones. It was done to prevent anyone from harnessing the stone's power for evil.
And the life-force of the priest was tied to the Grove too.
Perseus glanced sadly at the man, wondering if he had always been this old. He was a demi-titan, and like the demigods, they were very rare.
"So, why did Lady Rhea and the spirits want me here?" He said, clearing his throat.
The man let out a long sigh. "The Spirits of Dodona have something to tell you, Son of Poseidon."
"Well, what–" The loud shriek-like sound which erupted in his ears caused him to yelp in pain. He clutched his head as voices began bouncing in his head, speaking in high tunes.
Wind chimes were clanging against each other and around him, the wind was whipping. Perseus clenched his jaw, glancing around him at the shaking leaves. The priest stood still, as though he was not hearing the high pitched voices. Perseus gritted his teeth as the first voice hit him.
"The Old Ones Stir Once Again." His eyes widened as he realised what was happening. A prophecy. The Spirits of Dodona were issuing a prophecy. The same words were reverberating around the forest of Oak trees, in different high pitched voices, with shrieks and cackles accompanying them. Perseus' eyes were still wide.
The Grove was going to drive him mad if it kept screaming in his head.
Steeling his nerves, he tried to concentrate as the next words slammed into his skull.
"To destroy Olympus, their possessions to reclaim.
The Protectors of Greece, again shall rise,
And retrieve the stolen, from a web of lies.
To journey far and wide, into the dark,
And diminish the Old flame to a simple spark.
The Immortal Elixir, stolen from its place,
Craved and found only if He stays.
The Keys of Death shall lead the way,
Gates of Old unlock on the Darkest Day.
The Last Half-bloods shall answer the call,
To storm or fire the Destroyer must fall.
An Oath to keep with a final breath,
And foes bear arms at the Gates of Death."
Perseus fell to his knees as the voices retreated from his head. He was trembling, eyes wide, shaking in his cloak. His face and clothes were drenched in sweat. The son of Poseidon looked up fearfully at the priest, realising what had just happened. There had been two prophecies like this—one in the first Titanomachy, delivered by Phoebe herself.
The second had been during the First Giant War, delivered by the priestess of Delphi. Perseus inhaled.
He had just heard the Third Great Prophecy.
A/N: So, how'd you like that? I've been working on this chapter for so long and I'm glad it's finally over. I can't wait to properly start this piece of literature and I hope you shall all go on this journey with me. Tell me your thoughts and leave a vote or kudos if you like it. Thanks for reading!
-TripleHomicide.