We trudged along the mangled earth as quietly as we could, careful to avoid the probing eyes of Gaea's army and the perished corpse of our own. A few monsters spotted us, to which we gladly sent them on their way to Tartarus. No one had the energy to start up a conversation, which I guess is good anyway, since we are on a stealth mission after all. But the silence around me is deafening and I almost wish someone would say something, anything really to ease the thick tension of fear.
My mind drifted off, tangled with thoughts of the Seven. What are they doing at the moment? Have they been judged yet? Are they enjoying Elysium? Have they even gone to Elysium? Are they happy? I sure hope so, especially after experiencing death as gruesome as they have. The least the Fates could do is give them a little peace in the Underworld.
Oh Gods! The Underworld! Dad…
He must be swamped at the Judgement Room, if the thousands of corpses half-buried in the loose soil are anything to go by. Yep, I can imagine he must be in a really bad mood.
Then there's the question of why the Gods have been silent, distant, and quiet, which just doesn't happen. Has Zeus shut down Olympus again? And one would think that the gods learned there lesson the first time. Honestly, the number of times I want to slap Zeus has skyrocketed! Forget slapping, if I ever get out of this alive I'm going to gut that guy with my sword and light his corpse on fire! With Greek fire! Maybe then I can get through to the dense skulls of the Olympians.
We can only hope that at least one of the Olympians is trying to talk Zeus out of the lockdown, but the odds aren't on our side when the king of the Gods is denser than a freaking rock.
It's the Gods' faults that everything is so screwed up right now. It's their fault that Thanatos is working overtime, it's Gaea's fault that so much blood has spilled on the earth, and it's my fault that I wasn't there for my little sister, my friends, when they needed me most.
It's my fault, it's all my fault.
If I transported the Athena Parthenos to camp faster, a good portion of Camp Half Blood and Camp Jupiter wouldn't have killed each other. If I just pushed myself harder in Tartarus, the Seven wouldn't have had to risk their lives to save me. If I stayed with my sister in the midst of battle, I could've protected her. I could've prevented a war if I had just been honest. I could've prevented a lot of messed up crap if I just. tried. harder.
Bianca would've done better, my father's callous voice reverberated in my ears. Even after I made amends with dad at the church with the decor of monks' skulls, even after he said he's proud of me, I still can't help but wonder if Bianca would've done better.
If it should've been me instead of her.
Sometimes I wonder how things would've turned out differently if she lived. Would she have asked Percy to dip in the River Styx? Would she have convinced Dad to fight in the Second Titan War? Would she have brought Hazel back to life too? How would she have dealt with the Roman Camp? Would she have lied to Annabeth about where Percy went? What about with Reyna and Jason? Would she have let Tartarus pull her in to locate and close the Doors of Death? Would she have been the Ambassador of Pluto? The Angel of the Prophecy of the Seven? Would she agree to shadow travel the Athena Parthenos across the world, or would her brilliant mind brainstorm a better solution? Would she have become the Ghost Queen and banish Minos to the depths of the Underworld? Would Camp Half Blood have liked her better? Would she have been asked to become Praetor?
I could go on and on about each and every scenario, and I would never find out. Unless I time travelled. But everyone knows that isn't possible.
So I continue to run the questions through my mind every time I mess up, every time I make a mistake, in hopes of discovering the answers that I know will never come.
I was so lost in my thoughts I barely registered we arrived. The enemy side of the battlefield looked so much worse than I could have ever imagined. The sky was a deeper shade of blood red, the earth was scorched and jagged, monsters and bodies littered it like wildflowers in a field. Mother Earth's armies chanted, a song of their soon-to-be victory and the anarchy that will ensue. In the center of all of the madness, Gaea and her children perched on the upheaval turf comfortably. The Kings, Queens, and squires of discord. We all paled considerably. We anticipated a Herculean fight, not the end of the world.
I clutched my sword with ferocity. End of the world or not, I won't let Gaea win, not after everything she's taken from me. I won't let her get away with what she's done. She'll pay someway, somehow—I'll make sure of it.
We circled around the army cautiously, darting from hill to hill, desperate for cover. We brandished our swords and spears in expectancy, creeping from behind the largest throne of dirt, bone, and blood.
Reyna turned to me and whispered, "I need you to create an earthquake."
I blinked. Um, what? With how casually she just said that, you could've imagined her saying I need you to clean your room, or I need you eat your vegetables. I gave her a Are you insane? look.
"Reyna, I raise and command armies of zombies, ghosts, and skeletons. I don't do earthquakes. Last time I checked, my dad isn't the god of earthquakes." I whispered very slowly, in case she had trouble understanding.
She gave me an Are you stupid? look. "Yes Nico, I know your dad isn't the god of earthquakes. However—correct me if I'm wrong—your dad is the god of everything below the surface, which includes the earth. Thus, by my understanding of your powers, you should be very capable, if not more than a child of Neptune, in the art of shaking the earth," she explained in tortoiseshell-speed, talking to me as if I were a clueless five year old. Now that is just insulting. Anyone else who would've dared talk to me like that would've earned a slap in the face and a complementary zombie dance party in their cabin. But since this is Reyna, who I have come to think of as an older sister, I will let it slide.
I threw my hands up in defeat. "Fine!" I whisper-yelled. "I'll go 'create an earthquake'."
I laid my palm down on the blood-soaked soil, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Whenever I have trouble controlling my powers, it helps to tap into the elements around me. I could feel the earth pulsing under my finger tips, like a heartbeat. I could feel the roots shifting and tugging, feeding off of the groundwater in the small pocket of earth exactly 14.6 ft below me. I could feel bones and treasure buried 15 ft below and 70 yards left of me. 18 ft ahead of me and 2 ft below, a small colony of ants bustled in their complex tunnel system; right, left, left, and right again to navigate to the exit.
This isn't what I need. Deeper, I willed. I need to go deeper. I could feel the different layers of the earth, each more complex and unstable than the last. I shifted through the thin crust, past the bulky mantle, a layer filled with potassium, magnesium, sodium, calcium, and aluminum. I sifted through the outer core, a hot, fiery, liquidated layer, and reached the inner core, an incredibly dense sphere in the center of the earth made out every element peaking to iron. Earthquake, I thought. I need an earthquake. Then I felt it. The plates almost directly underneath me. I could feel the rigid chips and cracks from colliding, shifting and sinking in the dense soil.
I thought of the Mt. Olympus and Mt. Othrys, how they stand high and mighty in the sky, the symbols of power and despair. I need more than an earthquake if I'm going to topple Gaea off her dirt throne, I need a mountain. I raised my hand to the air, sensing the tectonic plates beneath me. Collide, I commanded. I squeezed my hand into a fist, feeling the familiar tug of my gut, and all hell broke loose.
I opened my eyes as I felt the plates colliding. The earth trembled in fear. Huh, so this is what it feels like to create earthquakes. I lifted my head, feeling a little more than light-headed, only to find everyone on their knees, staring at me in shock and disbelief. Why is everyone on their knees? Why are they staring at me like I just ate my own pants? I turned around and I immediately understood why.
Right smack in the center of Gaea's army, a newly formed mountain towered the battlefield, pulverizing every shrieking monster in its way. This mountain isn't just a symbol, I realized. It's a reminder of all of the lost souls of demigods who fought for the greater good.
What will I name it?
Mt. Half Blood. In honor of all of the demigods who sacrificed their lives in this war. I almost smiled in approval.
Maybe there is hope for us after all.
