The Third Life: End of the Odyssey

Yes, you read that title correctly. I'm sorry to say I'm not feeling up to the challenge of fleshing out the entirety of this little hole of a side story I dug myself into, however, Old Man Jake in AC:III will have lots of stories to tell Connor.

And plenty to rip the Founding Fathers with when the time comes, which is the main point of AC:III. It will serve as development for Percy.

Arguably, the next arc will be far more important than this one, because Shay.

Now then, 9 Reviews is not at all what I was hoping for after seven months, especially considering the fanfare Sea Devil got, with its 30 Reviews, but I'll take what I can get.

On to the chapter and its tragic ending.

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or AC

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Jake went back to the port in which he arrived in, the eerie fog around the Petrified Temple having cleared out after Medusa's—or whatever the hell that thing was—death at his hands. He kept the sword it wielded, being disappointed but not surprised that the First Civ power behind it vanished, and he most certainly kept the Apple that he got from the fight.

The people pointed and whispered as he went for the docks, no doubt having been informed of his "mission" from the gods, and the sword at his belt along with the fact that he was alive being proof of his claims, and now they were awed.

Which made Jake feel really self-conscious, and he was kicking himself in the ass.

In his time, the Greek myths were little more than bedtime stories for kids, or they were used as parables or life lessons by scholars, or by random people to sound educated and smart by their ability to regale you with the fantastic tales of the gods.

But this wasn't Jake's time: this was the time.

This was when the Greek gods had fully furnished and functioning temples. This was when they had hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions—Jake didn't know the exact population of 430 BC Greece and how many people around the area worshipped Zeus, Poseidon, etc.—of followers and devotees making offerings and praying, worshipping and revering, ass-kissing and cock-sucking. This was the time in which the Greek pantheon was at the top of the mythological food chain, aware and active.

And Jake had just claimed to be in their service, which no doubt would get the people praying and burning things in thanks, and if the gods hadn't been paying attention to things down here—like an 18th century galleon sailing around their waters and a fifteen-year-old pirate with advanced weaponry—they would probably start looking into things now.

However, on the other hand, the Greek gods, according to Mr. Biggs, were proud and arrogant beings, indifferent to most mortal affairs, and more content to pursue their own interests than perform their duties with strict diligence, and so there was the possibility that the gods were too busy with whatever to give any kind of care to Jake and his accompaniments.

But on the other other hand, given what he had just seen and fought, were the Greeks gods even real, or just First Civ people with their highly advanced technology being revered as gods by the simple-minded ancient peoples of Greece?

Whatever the case, Jake commandeered one of the random feluccas that was mored at the dock, and sailed out to deeper waters so he didn't have to spend so much time swimming for his ship, which was already sailing for him.

Jake boarded to the cheers and claps of his diverse crew, and their questioning and hopeful faces.

"I must confer with Mr. Biggs first, and privately, but I did get this thing."

Jake showed them the Apple, noted the excitement, and put it away before anyone got stupid.

Wasn't likely, but was a possibility.

The captain and his first mate disappeared into the former's personal quarters, and the rest of the crew sorted themselves out accordingly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What happened?" Mr. Biggs asked.

"Read my mind. It'll be simpler," Jake said.

"I hate reading minds, and you know that."

"I'll focus on the important stuff, like we've practiced."

The magician sighed. "If you send me down another rabbit hole, boy…"

Jake waved his hand, dismissing the threat. "Just do it. I don't feel like explaining things with words. There's too much."

Mr. Biggs summoned his staff and wand, and thrust them at Jake. The pirate seized as he felt the push against his mind, and he allowed entrance into his memories.

As promised, he focused on recalling his journey, starting with going up the hill to save Bryce, following her to her and Ligeia's broken shamble of a house, then to the Temple, and everything that happened inside.

This kind of magic was a dangerous kind. Diving into a person's mind to relive their memories and experiences was an effective way to glean information, but the risk it presented was tremendous. Even for skilled practitioners of mind magic were at risk of getting forever lost, and that was because the human mind was a fickle thing, easily distracted, not easily controlled.

In a consensual meld like what Jake and Mr. Biggs were doing, the danger was that Jake could start recalling random memories on accident, and Mr. Biggs could end up stuck on those memories, and get thrown around Jake's head, going from memory to memory, until he ran out of things to see after so many years, and then his own mind broke from having to basically relive Jake's whole life.

Nonconsensual melds were even more dangerous, because you had to force your way inside and start digging around, looking for your desired memories, all the while the subject kept trying to force you out, their mind going haywire with random bits of everything.

However, none of that is going to be relevant for a while.

Mr. Biggs yanked himself out of Jake's mind, both of them sweating and breathing heavily.

"So…," Jake grunted, "what do you think?"

"I think…we need…rum…"

"Agreed."

Mr. Biggs went right for Jake's private store, prompting the pirate into action.

"Hey! We've got rum elsewhere, no need to touch the good stuff just yet."

"Well, captain, about that…" Mr. Biggs' face was carefully worked into an expression of guarded neutrality. "While you and Kassandra were out, the crew and I got to know the crew of her ship, the Adrestia, and we made rather merry that night ourselves, and…" the magician swallowed. "The rum is gone, sir."

Jake stared at his first mate. He stared for a long time, completely still and silent. Then his eye twitched, and he exploded.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE RUM IS GONE!?"

"How many possible meanings could there be behind that phrase!?"

"We're talking about the English language! There can be as many meanings behind a phrase as we put behind them!"

"Well, I'm talking about the basic meaning behind the phrase, in that the rum is gone!"

"But why is the rum gone!?"

"We were having a party and were drinking with new friends!"

"And you drank all the rum!?"

"They're sailors from two thousand years in the past! Rum doesn't exist yet, and they liked it!"

Jake's fingers splayed and made grabbing motions. "You're telling me that rum doesn't exist yet and you let all of it go bye-bye?" he said in a growling, strangled voice.

"Well, not all of it," Mr. Biggs coughed, pointing to Jake's private store.

There was a pause. Then…

"Dishonor!" Jake cried. "Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your family! And dishonor on your cow!"

"I don't have a cow."

"Whatever. What were we talking about?"

"The conundrum between the Greek myths and the Medusa you fought."

"Right. What do you think?"

Mr. Biggs sat down in a chair. "The gods of Greece are very real. Right now, we're very lucky we haven't had any contact with them yet. I don't know how the First Civilization fits into everything—Ra, Zeus, the Titans, etc.—but I know that the gods are only so old, and that the Precursors are also only so old. Quite possibly, Jake, the Precursors come from a time before even the deities, and what you fought was one of their creations, a creation that would be discovered by the young Olympians, and then adapted into one of their stories."

Jake had uncorked a bottle of his private rum, and drank nearly half the bottle by the time Mr. Biggs finished. The captain sat in silence, contemplating.

"…what a possibility," Jake finally said.

"Aye."

"Rum?"

"Yes, please."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And this is where the sad part starts.

The Running Frenchman sailed South for Messara, sinking a few ships from each of the three factions due to them getting too close and nosey, something Jake didn't like as it was a waste of precious ammo. He also killed two more Cultists, both from the Gods of the Aegean Sea branch, and made a note to collect the Artifact Pieces they carried.

Other than that, the trip was uneventful.

The arrival at Messara was lackluster, and Jake eventually found the place in which the Minotaur was supposedly holed up: the ruins of Knossos Palace. There, Jake met an annoying boy whose name he can't remember, and he got sent on a bunch of annoying little side quests before acquiring the necessary disc-like key needed to open the Labyrinth.

Down there, Jake doubted this was the Labyrinth of myth, and he found himself face to face with the Minotaur, a big, smelly beast with subpar intelligence. Its eyes glowed gold like Medusa's, only these eyes didn't turn you into rock.

The battle was short, since the Minotaur's idea of a good attack was to lower its horns and charge. Jake waited and sidestepped, swinging his swords low and severing the monster's legs. Dispatching it was easy after that point, and the beast ended up turning into another Apple.

When Jake got topside, he found a man his age, though it was hard to tell with all the facial hair, wearing golden armor, a sword at his side with the same glow that Medusa's sword had on Lesbos. Jake deduced that this was Deimos, aka Alexios, Kassandra's little brother, something the man confirmed himself with his introduction.

"I am Deimos! A demigod! I'm here to kill you, Jake the Sparrow-Bearer!"

The captain looked up and saw Larry the Sparrow fluttering about, and he glowered at his bird. "This is your fault."

Larry chirped indignantly.

Deimos attacked, but it wasn't much of a fight. He was only a year older than Jake, and through Kosmos, he had been given the best training, the best food, the best teachers, the best armor, and the best weapons. He was in peak physical condition for his age, and was actually beyond, due to the Precursor genes in him making him stronger and increasing his stamina.

But Jake also had a tremendous body, growing up a slave and performing manual labor for the first seven years of his life, then going to sailing life, climbing rigging and the like, eventually getting on with the Assassins in a way, where he got instruction in combat and climbing, which further served to build muscle. He also had the Precursor genes in him, making him even stronger than the average man, but the most glaring difference between Jake and Deimos:

Deimos was a brute that used his Sword of Eden and overwhelming force.

Jake was a pirate.

Deimos lost the fight, and Jake let him live, giving him the Cultist pieces and telling him to give them to his big sister that loved him. Whether Deimos actually did that as opposed to throwing them into the dirt out of rage and humiliation, Jake would never know.

After Messara, the Running Frenchman sailed West, and they docked at Kythera Island, where Jake was wrapped up in a Cultist scheme to take over the island, more specifically, the Aphrodite temple there. After going places and killing people, Jake was soon faced with the decision of whether or not to sleep with this woman, Diona, but with it not being even 24 hours since his night with Kassandra, the chance of sex with another woman made his skin scrawl, and he declined.

Just as well, because he killed her just a few hours later. She tried to create some confusion with her identical twin sister, Eritha, but you couldn't fool Eagle Vision.

Diona was glowing bright gold.

During that journey, Jake came across the idiot of a man that believed himself a god, but he spoke of having family on the Isle of Thisvi, off the coast of Boeotia, which was exactly where Jake wanted to go, and so he helped the man, Empedokles, all the way up until they entered the vault on the Isle, where Jake rolled his eyes with a short exhale when the man was crushed flat by the humongous hand of a cyclopes, one that shouted its name.

"BRON-TES~!"

Jake worked out how to kill it before it finished wiping the blood off its hand.

He ran right between its legs, ignoring the rank smell, spun around and swung. The thin, sharp blades of his cutlasses bit right through the cyclops's Achilles tendons, making it howl and fall to its face when it tried to step. Jake wasted not time in hopping on top of the beast and slashing across the back of its neck, cutting the spine.

Brontes died rather quickly after that, and Jake couldn't help but feel that fighting monsters was a lot easier when they were flesh and bone instead of ones and zeroes.

Though he had now idea what ones and zeroes had to do with anything.

Anyway, the cyclops's eye, just like the Minotaur's horn and Medusa's snake, turned into an Apple of Eden, leaving Jake with three in his pocket, and then suddenly a new thing dawned in his mind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Three Apples," Jake said to Mr. Biggs in his private quarters. "The Assassins and Templars slaughter each other in droves just to get a clue to another clue. This is the thing Al Mualim used to enslave Masyaf, and pit Faris and Altaїr against one another. Ezio carved up half of Italy to finally get to the Vatican and fight Rodrigo over the Staff, taking the Apple back to Monteriggioni, which prompted Cesare's attack, and the subsequent rebirth of the Brotherhood thanks to Ezio and Virgil, with this in the middle of it all."

"Yes, I know the history," Mr. Biggs nodded. "What are you getting at?"

Jake had a far away look in his eye. "All of that was just over one Apple. We have three. And we're in a time centuries before the Assassins and Templars begin their war. Do you think that maybe—just maybe—we can stop it? Three Apples, and we know how much power one has…"

Mr. Biggs realized how much responsibility was just placed on his shoulders by the universe. Before him was a young man that was wise and capable beyond his years. A young man that viewed the conflict between the ancient powers as asinine and pointless, doing more harm in their quests than good, while also recognizing his hypocrisy in that he freely plundered whatever ship he wanted just because he wanted to do it.

However, he also had a sense of duty about him, one instilled in his early years by his master, and right now, he was feeling that sense of duty, that call to do something bigger and greater for the world, and he had three superweapons not two feet from him to accomplish that. Or at least go to strides to accomplish that.

However, however, Mr. Biggs realized that this was the future of the planet at stake.

In his studies at the House of Life, there were classes that dealt with theory of time magic, such as going back in time and altering history, or going into the future and brining back its knowledge and treasures, and all lessons therein had one singular message:

ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT

Time was meant to be a singular thing that only moved forward. Mr. Biggs didn't raise too much hell or questions about this brief little trip because it wasn't a magically based thing, but based in technology that he had no understanding of.

So, what Jake was talking about, preventing the forming of the Assassins and Templars, two global organizations of immense power, ability, influence, wealth, and knowledge, could have massive ramifications for the future of the world.

Death and destruction though they may wring, it was arguably necessary death and destruction.

"The Pieces of Eden are dangerous and borderline uncontrollable," Mr. Biggs said. "I know spells and incantations that can destroy cities, but even I have no wish to dabble with the Precursor relics. You yourself discovered the location and entrance to the Observatory, going inside and figuring out how it works, and it was by your own volition that you withheld knowledge of it from Edward and Mary.

"The only thing we will be doing with the Apples before us is the same thing we did with the Apple we found on Chrysaor's ship, and that it throwing them into the sea in the hope that it unleashes another burst of energy, this one taking us back to when we need to be. Do you understand me, Captain Jake Swallow?"

The young man stared at the magician with an unreadable expression.

"Crystal clear, First Mate Mr. Biggs."

Mr. Biggs nodded. "Time is not something to be impeded upon. There are things that are meant to happen, things that no matter what we do, we cannot stop. Now let's go throw some ancient superweapons overboard and hope we don't explode."

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The crew was gathered on deck for the proceedings, and my gathered that meant they were all clinging to the masts and rigging at various heights in case something exploded. Jake made sure that they all knew he was touched by their show of bravery.

Before he could chunk one of the Apples overboard, a female voice resonated through them.

Jake Swallow. Come to Thera, the Westernmost island of the Volcanic Islands. I can help you there.

Not one to question disembodied voices coming from Precursor artifacts, Jake turned his boat around and went sailing for the island in question, and when he got there, he had to figure out this puzzle thingy with mirrors and light, which wasn't hard so much as annoying, having to push and pull these random shelves and kill some snakes.

Anyway, the big door opened and down Jake went, following the conveniently straight path through some water and an active volcano, down a steep slide and eventually in a subterranean chamber bigger than any church in Europe, with the architecture being obviously of the First Civilization.

Also. There in the distance was this big gateway-looking thing.

Jake leapt and swan-dived several stories into a pool of water, climbed out, and made his way over the broken platforms to the central area, where there was a floating pyramid, seemingly suspended by beams of light, and an impossibly high ceiling made of trigonal segments.

Never mind the big portal that was keeping the ocean from flooding the chamber, the silhouette of a city lying beyond with a trio of manta rays hypnotically swimming about.

Jake also noted the four pillars rising from the ground, each one with an image carved into them: one pillar bore a mark similar to that of the Minotaur's head, one with a design like snakes making a crown, another with a single eye, and the fourth was a creature sitting on its legs.

"Captain Swallow."

Jake whipped around with swords drawn, and the old man with the fancy, glowing staff just stared at him neutrally, like being threatened with modern weaponry wasn't new to him.

"I am Pythagoras, Kassandra's father."

Jake blinked. "PEE-thah-gor-ahs? You mean…Py-THAG-or-us? As in, Pythagorean Theorem? A-squared plus B-squared equals C-squared? Sin, cosine, tangent?"

"Well, yes, but that's not how you pronounce my name."

Jake inhaled very slowly, and then exhaled as equally slow. "What I do now, I do for the good of kids and teenagers everywhere for generations to come…"

"What are you-"

"ON GUARD, BITCH!"

Pythagoras yelped when Jake attacked, barely raising his staff in time to block the double overhead swings of the pirate's cutlasses.

"This is for all the tears and stress you've caused students for centuries with your stupid, fucking triangles! They're just triangles!" Jake cried as he swung, slashed, and jabbed at every square inch of the ancient mathematician. "Who cares what the sides and hypotenuse are, or the angles!? Are we ever going to use that in real life!? Is there a Pythagorean Season we need to be on the lookout for!?"

Pythagoras was sweating bullets as he spun and twirled the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus, blocking Jake's attacks as the boy ranted for all of our sakes.

"NO! There is no Pythagorean Season! There's Tax Season! Do you have any idea just how useless your math bullshit really is!?"

"Architecture!" Pythagoras cried in his defense. "Engineering!"

"Fuck both of 'em! If you want to be an architect or an engineer, then that is the only time that your stupid theorem needs to be learned, not during standardized education, when your head needs to be filled with useful and conventional things, like how to change a wagon wheel, and how to navigate a sailing ship, and how to navigate period!"

Jake pulled a fast one on Pythagoras and disarmed him, then leveled his swords in an X at the mathematician's throat.

"You have a promising career down in Hell, being employed as a torturer whose job it is to teach your fucking theorem to nonbelievers."

Pythagoras would've swallowed, but that act would've got his throat cut open due to how close Jake's swords were.

"Captain!" the female voice from hours previous suddenly toned.

Jake turned and saw what was a hologram, though such a word wasn't in his vocabulary, of a woman that clearly of the Precursors, given her white dress with the metal adornments, and the fact that she was ten feet tall and covered in glowing markings.

"Perfect. You confusing people." Jake holstered his swords, and Pythagoras retrieved his staff. "While we're on the subject, you mind explaining how you and the rest of your kind tie in with the existence of gods like Zeus and Ra?"

"Humans have always mistaken my kind as deities. However, we were the ones to create you thousands of years ago to serve us, so many of my kind enjoyed being revered and worshipped, and so let the lie pervade. For example, I am Aletheia, considered the goddess of truth in this time, despite my efforts to not be."

Jake stared at her. What she had said: mistaken my kind as deities, let the lie pervade, considered the goddess….To Jake, it was sounding like the Precursors had no idea about the existence of actual gods, and the humans in question had made honest mistakes regarding their gods and the Precursors.

If that was the case, then what was up with the gods in allowing the mistaking of their identities?

Or, an even better question: since it seemed like the Precursors didn't know about the gods, did the gods have knowledge about the Precursors?

"I can see that you have many questions and many doubts, Captain," Aletheia said. "I suspect that you will not find the answers, but he will."

"He who? Don't play the pronoun game with me."

"The Keeper: Percy Jackson."

Jake stared at the First Civilization hologram. "Who?"

"Not important for you, Captain. What is important is that your part has been played. The message has been received, and it is time for you to go home, Jake Swallow. You have my condolences."

"Your condolences—what are you talking about!?"

The Isu AI gave Jake a sad look.

A laser shot from the suspended pyramid, striking Jake, and the next thing he knew he was back on the Running Frenchman, the Apples on the deck before him, the crew staring in surprise.

The Apples glowed, getting brighter and brighter by the second, humming louder and louder, reaching a deafening, blinding level before releasing a shockwave that seemingly rocked the world.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When the pirates came to, they knew they were back home. They could tell by the smell of the sea, the temperature, the salty air, and a bunch of other keys and clues that only pirates of the West Indies could identify.

Another big clue was the fact that they were right in front of Great Inagua, the home of Edward Kenway.

With the trepidation and hesitance, as if walking to the gallows, the Running Frenchman came in to dock, already drawing a crowd. Once secured, Jake was the first to exit, and he recognized some faces there, members of Edward's crew. By the way they were looking at him, back in his 18th century redingote outfit, all slack-jawed and fearful, as if seeing a ghost, all but confirmed Jake's fears.

Out of the crowd came Kenway himself, older, bigger, his eyes wiser, yet just as awed as everyone else's. Next to him came the barmaid from the Old Avery tavern is Nassau, though clearly, she was much more than a server of drinks now.

The reincarnation of Faris and Virgil did not see Mary.

There was complete silence on the docks, not even the birds squawking or the waves washing.

"J-Jake…?" Edward breathed.

Steeling himself for what he knew was about to be the hardest conversation of his life, Jake tried for a smile.

"Hey, Kenway! How many years has it been?"

"You're alive…we—we thought…we…a grave…funeral…"

Jake's false smile didn't waver because it was just that. "A funeral? Ah, so you did love me after all. How many years, Kenway?"

Edward's feet were starting to come back under him now, though. "Jake…we'd better…we'd better do this inside…somewhere private."

"No, no. Here's good. Best to get this over with so my crew isn't in suspense."

Edward swallowed, and steeled himself for the hardest conversation of his life. "It's been six years, mate. It's 1722, now."

"Oh? Six years? That's not too bad then."

"Where have you been, Jake?" Edward demanded.

"Greece. Long story, I'll tell you later. Now, how's Nassau?"

"It was…the British took it back over, mate. Back in 1718, Nassau was struck with sickness, and Blackbeard and I went to go look for medicine, an endeavor that failed, and the British set up a blockade. We barely escaped with our lives, and our Confederacy crumbled."

"Bummer," Jake said nonchalantly, but he was starting to crumble on the inside. "How is Blackbeard, then? Thatch took a good name."

"He's dead," Edward admitted softly. He knew that what he had to say was going to break Jake's heart, and was therefore trying to be as light as he could. "He got too infamous and old to be pirating, and so he tried to retire off the coast of North Carolina. We were ambushed and fought as best we could, but I was thrown overboard, and Thatch was cut down from behind."

"Oh…" even that false smile wavered. Jake had a love-hate relationship with the older pirate. He was someone to tease and mess with, but also a mentor and a friend. "At least he's at peace, then, right?"

Edward managed a smile. "R-Right."

"I take it Vane and Rackham are dead too?"

"Yes."

"Well," Jake chirped, "certainly won't miss those two. Are the Templars still around?"

"No." Here, Edward's heart swelled just a bit. "I listened to what you had to tell me Jake, and I threw my lot in with the Assassins. We took down the Templars and secured the Observatory. We're actually conducting an operation right now to seal the entrance forever, so no one can use it."

"Wonderful news! How's…how's Hornigold?"

Edward's smile melted, his eyes beginning to water over. Jake was stalling and they both knew it. He was going down a list of questions, staving off the big one for as long as he could.

"When Nassau fell through, Governor Rogers, a Templar, came in and offered a pardon. Hornigold, Cockram, and Burgess joined the Order, and I eventually killed them all."

"That sucks," Jake said uncaringly, but he was but a few pieces left. He spread his arms for a hug. "Enough of all this talking. Gimme a big welcome-back hug!"

Edward swallowed, a lone tear trailing down his face, but he managed a smile. He walked forward and met Jake in a bone-crushing embrace, and he whispered confirmation of Jake's worst fear.

"She's at peace, mate. And she loved you all the way up to her end. Her final words were that the next time I see you, to tell you how proud she was of you, and that she'd be looking out for you."

Edward felt Jake's shuddering breath, and even with him right next to his ear, he still barely heard the pirate's one-word question.

"…where…"

"…Kingston, mate. She was trying to score enough gold for herself and Anne over there to quietly retire from pirating and the Assassins. She got caught, and was saved from the gallows due to her child. After giving birth though, in that prison…it was too much."

After another few seconds, Jake pulled away, and Edward nearly ran away at the look on the sixteen-year-old's face.

"Thank you, Kenway," Captain Swallow said evenly.

He disengaged and walked back to his ship.

"Jake! Jake, what are you about to do?" Edward called, panic lacing his voice.

"Nothing sensible."

The crew could feel their captain's emotions, and they were experiencing them as well. It was why they didn't ask questions, just went about to unmooring the ship and casting her off back into the sea. Jake took the helm and gave no heed to Edward's cries and pleas.

The dark green sails of the Running Frenchman caught the wind. Her black flag, the design of a shark's open jaws upon its middle, fluttered high and proud.

Her destination: Kingston.

Her mission: evil.

Her crew: dedicated.

Her captain: vengeful.

Under his breath, Mr. Biggs pleaded:

"God, have mercy on us all…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So much in this chapter. Sorry for glossing over the rest of the Odyssey, but I think we have more important things to go over.

The possibility that the Isu and the gods—all the pagan gods—have no knowledge of each other. How could this be?

Aletheia referring to Percy as the Keeper, instead of discount Desmond, Layla, which means reunification with Kassandra and the potential to undergo the Fate of Atlantis. How does this fit with PJO canon?

The scene with the rum and the "fight" with Pythagoras were meant as humorous foils to how heavy I got with this chapter, that ending in particular. Mr. Biggs foreshadowed this during his conversation with Jake about the potential of the three Apples.

Speaking of the young captain:

He now sails for Kingston, burdened with feelings of self-hate, guilt, loathing, and hatred, and sorrow, despair, and sadness. At the end of this life, all of these things will go crashing into Percy's head like a freight train from orbit, and it won't be pretty, especially not with Circe right there, providing the perfect outlet for all the ensuing trauma.

Next chapter will be the bridge between IV and III, and will officially mark the beginning of the end for this arc.

Fav, Follow, and Review please!