Chapter 17

Tulpa. Egregore. Thoughtform. It all points to the FINAL SOLUTION! Why? I'm not sure. My blood curdles. I shiver. I don't take my medicine anymore. Never have. The G.G. says I should, but I'd rather eat my own brain. Actually, that's what I'm doing right now. Tastes good! Head Cheese! Just don't talk about the egregore. There's a Bad Moon Rising. Remeber what HAppened to my brother? The best of us!? Rebember

SAMAEL SAMAEL SAMAEL SAMAEL SAMAEL SAMAEL SAMAEL

-Quote attributed to...

She did not dream of crumbling cities or terrifying adversaries. Instead, her mind's eye conjured an image of something simpler. The sun warmed her, a ghostly kiss upon her skin, while the occasional salty breeze rolled in from the sea. Her feet were buried deep in the sand, as if to root her, though she had no fear of being thrashed by the waves or the winds. To any other, the sea would have seemed to stretch infinitely, but to Tiamat, who had soared over every land this world could feasibly offer, who held with her the Tablet of Destinies, who was wisened by an immeasurably long life to date, the sea was no greater or lesser than the sky above or the earth below. She looked out and saw nothing extraordinary from the place she called home, and suddenly she was gripped by melancholy.

Home called to her. She heard the salt sea asking her to rejoin it. The sun was setting already, and so she had to go home. It was time to rest. She began the walk. What should have taken her thirty seconds took her tens of thousands of years. Eventually, though, she felt the waves wash over her feet.

Tiamat stopped. Turning, she took one last look at the land. A thousand formless faces stared back at her. She raised her hand and received a thousand farewells in return, then turned away and continued walking into the depths.

However, rather than the sea, she slowly broke the surface of sleep, awakening on an unpleasantly rigid bed. Tiamat allowed the fog to fade from the forefront of her mind. Memories, dreams, and reality, once all mixed in a stew of emotion and reason within her, were soon separated. Her body felt heavy. She was sure her joints had rusted over.

Alive. She was alive. No, that couldn't be right, could it? Tiamat recalled her last waking thoughts. Most of them were still mired by thick mists, but she remembered Samael, New York, Percy and Ingvild, and she remembered dying. Her existence was forfeit in the face of the Dragon-Eater, not unlike the rest of her kin. Why, then, did she still draw breath? What twist of fate had seen her spared against her ultimate enemy?

Tiamat looked around. Even the slightest move brought pain lancing through her skull, but she could not be idle. It didn't take long for her to decide she must have been in one of Ajuka's facilities. While the bland furnishings were one piece of the puzzle, she felt greatly diminished, both magically and physically, which meant she must have been within one of his dampening fields.

Though it took great effort, she disentangled herself from the sheets and rose from her position. She was wearing a gown not her own. How long had she been here, she wondered? It couldn't have been any short period. Definitely not a few hours. Days, she decided, swinging her legs over one side of the bed.

The door slid open before she could make any attempt to stand. She didn't recognize the devil who walked in. He sighed upon seeing her. "Please don't exert yourself too much, King Tiamat. I came as soon as we detected movement in the room, so I know you can't have been awake for all that long." When she narrowed her eyes at him, the devil raised his hands placatingly. "I'm sure you have many questions."

"If you can talk, then I'm sure you can answer," Tiamat said, her voice cracked and scratchy. Pain, memorable pain, reared itself deep in her breast, burning with incredible intensity and giving her sudden pause. She gripped at the gown, taking deep, searing breaths to ward off whatever ailed her. "What… What happened? Where are the other two? Who are you?"

The devil dropped his arms and gave her a short bow. "My name is Arno. Lord Beelzebub assigned me to be your physician while you were staying here. You came in with a rather nasty wound, but my team and I have dealt with worse, and your own incredible healing factor certainly played a role. As for the other two, if you mean Percy Jackson and—er, that is, Jackson and Claudia, then you'll be pleased to learn that Lord Beelzebub has granted them room in his own estate for the time being."

Claudia. That was one of the false names they had decided to give Ingvild to keep her safe in the Underworld. So Percy and Ingvild were alive too. Good. She needed to see them and ask them questions.

"Take me to them," Tiamat said. "Then… No, on second thought, tell Ajuka I wish to speak to him. I'm sure he'll bring them along of his own accord."

"As you wish. Just know that it may take some time before Lord Beelzebub becomes available. Tragedy befell the Underworld like it did Earth."

Tiamat briefly considered demanding that he elaborate but thought better of it. She would be able to ask Ajuka later. Before he left, the physician ran her through a quick examination, once again complimenting her tenacity and recovery, to which Tiamat only grunted. He must not have been familiar with dragons if he was acting so surprised. Or maybe he was just trying to make her feel better.

Either way, the examination ended with little more than him recommending that she avoid straining herself too much for the foreseeable future. Tiamat felt he was wasting his breath but nodded to hurry him along. Whether she could or would take his advice depended on things outside her control.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Tiamat drifted between the waking world and her dreams for hours. Perhaps she could have found a better way to occupy her time, but with the weakness still lingering in her body, she chose to conserve as much energy as possible. Her eyes were just about to flutter shut again when the door to her room opened.

Ajuka walked in, with Ingvild as his shadow. Relief flashed across the girl's face when she saw Tiamat. Ajuka also allowed himself a small smile as he took a chair and settled down bedside.

"Apologies for the delay," Ajuka said. "How are you feeling?"

Tiamat answered honestly, "Weak, tired." She looked over his shoulder and frowned. Nobody else followed them in, and they had closed the door behind them. "Where's Percy?"

Ingvild wrung her hands. "Earth."

Tiamat turned back to Ajuka. "Why? I thought you allowed him to remain on your property?"

"Percy went back to New York. He wanted to do what he could to help the rescue and recovery operations," Ingvild explained.

"He was… quite insistent," Ajuka said, "that he be sent back to New York. I tried contacting him earlier, but he never responded. Though as you know, communication between the Underworld and Earth is hit-or-miss."

"He asked me to stay here," Ingvild said. "I'm sure he's worried about you."

Ajuka cleared his throat. "Regardless, Percy seems like he would be able to take care of himself. For now, tell me, what happened?" Tiamat told him about Samael and New York, then waited expectantly. Ajuka nodded as if he wasn't surprised. "You survived eradication—congratulations, by the way—but there was no chance for you to escape completely whole."

"How did I survive? What happened, Ajuka?"

"Percy saved you," Ingvild answered. She must have seen the incredulity on Tiamat's face because she pressed on with, "He stopped Samael's blood from diffusing in your body and pulled it out as best he could. But he couldn't fix everything. He did his best, though. He really did. I... He did save you."

"What the toxin touched was destroyed," Ajuka said. "Your body healed itself well enough, but it took considerable effort to coax it into a state of self-repair. Without outside intervention, you would still have a hole in your chest. Unfortunately, that means…"

"My power has been greatly diminished," Tiamat finished his thought, her mouth souring as the words spilled over. "The damage has been done. A part of me was erased."

She closed her eyes and once more turned inward to examine herself. She tensed. Her hands clawed at the sheets, and only the barest thread of restraint stayed them from tearing the fabric to pieces. There was no mistaking it; her body was running optimally for its condition. Ajuka's dampening field had no part to play in how she was feeling.

Simply put, her strength was now more comparable to that of Vritra—a sizeable degradation from what it had once been. What set her apart from the other Dragon Kings and other dragons, in general, was her ability to draw power from the infinite, mysterious cosmic well that fringed reality. Now, her tie to that cosmic well was frayed. It could not bear the same amount of strain it once had.

Unbidden, a chuckle escaped her.

Tiamat thought about all she'd been through, the pain she had wrought and endured, those she had saved and ruined, and wondered if they would be laughing as well. Madness bubbled deep within her, building until she could no longer contain it. Her chuckles grew into furious, heaving, gut-wrenching laughter. She doubled over in bed, fighting for air. Her sides ached, her ribs ached, and she laughed until her jaw ached, tears slowly coming to her eyes from the overwhelming sense of something that had clouded her mind. Every now and then, she would catch sight of Ajuka and Ingvild, their faces filled with worry, which only made her laugh even harder.

The first of her tears slipped free amidst the climax of her laughter, barely darkening the white bedsheets that she clenched.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"You look awful," Tiamat said.

Percy stopped halfway through his motion, apparently caught off-guard by her comment, then went ahead and closed the door behind him as he entered the room. His expression barely changed as he swept his gaze over her and their surroundings. Unkempt stubble shadowed his face, and exhaustion left his eyes squinted and red.

"I've been busy." His voice sounded small. "Sorry I couldn't be here sooner. It's a mess out there."

"So I've heard."

"Ajuka told you?"

"Everything he could."

New York had not been Samael's only victim. Several other cities worldwide had been caught in his path of destruction. The Underworld was also targeted, though casualties were limited to Dragon Mountain and a territory held by the fallen angels.

As it stood, Ajuka's theory was that Samael had attacked places that had been hosting powerful dragons. Given what information they had—the deaths of Yu-Long, the Yellow Dragon, Ryūjin, Caicai Vilu, many Nāgarāja, and nearly all the dragons living on Dragon Mountain, Tannin included—Tiamat thought the hypothesis made sense.

What didn't make sense was how Samael had escaped from Cocytus. Given the seals Yahweh placed on him, he should not have been able even to twitch, let alone flatten cities. Samael could not have gotten free of his own accord.

Of course, her first suspect was Hades. But that just didn't make sense. Hades had nothing to gain from this; Samael's destructive actions would bring him more trouble than they were worth.

In fact, from what Ajuka had told her, it seemed as though that was already the case. Communication between all sorts of factions had picked up in the wake of this catastrophe. Some hadn't even known the perpetrator until Heaven came forward to verify that Samael had been removed from Cocytus and that he'd been the one to attack Earth. Now Samael was missing, his specter still looming over the world.

"You saved my life," Tiamat said.

Percy gave her a strange look. For some reason, he chose to lean against the door and cross his arms rather than move to her side. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I didn't think you could," she corrected. That may have sounded condescending in hindsight, so she hurried to explain. "There was nothing that led me to believe you had the ability to help. I'm not even sure how you did it to begin."

His eyes did not leave hers for a long while. Again, she felt he was searching for something with the intensity behind his stare.

"I can control water," he finally said. "Blood is fifty-five percent water, and Samael's blood is pretty close to a human's, weirdly enough. Dangerous stuff though… I couldn't get it all out in one go. My insides would have melted if I had tried to control it for too long. Still feel pretty awful, actually."

Tiamat nodded along. She understood why Percy would want to avoid talking about it. Few people would look upon that revelation favorably. Tiamat had only heard stories of such a cruel and unusual ability.

She was sure using it came with a toll.

"I keep thinking I'll wake up from this nightmare," he said, looking away. "But I'm not, am I?"

Unfortunately, they both knew the answer to that question. Tiamat herself had been hoping to awaken to a world that made sense again. She had no such luck, and neither would Percy. What Samael had done couldn't be undone, certainly not by them.

In another universe, Tiamat was sure they had all died in New York. In another, she was sure she had never met Percy. In yet another, she had certainly died at Marduk's hand. None of those mattered to her because they were not her reality. Even if there were other Tiamats across countless realities, none of them were her. She wouldn't drag down her thoughts with pointless "what-ifs."

Instead of humoring Percy, she asked, "When was the last time you slept?"

He shrugged, and Tiamat scoffed. He was horribly predictable at times.

"Then you need to rest."

"Can't. I have to get back. There's a lot—"

"I thought," Tiamat said, clamping down on some growing frustration so that it did not leak into her voice, "that Sun Wukong's teachings had gotten through to you. Percy, if you refuse to bend, you will break. In the same way this rule applies to physical objects, so does it apply to your mind. None of us are immutable. We aren't meant to be."

"Good to know you have enough energy to lecture me."

"Yes, I appreciate that you saved my life. That's why I'm lecturing you. This is the best way I can repay your kindness."

"Friends get saved free of charge," he said dismissively.

"We're both the type to settle our debts."

Percy shifted on his feet awkwardly, wincing as if he was in pain. "I wish that were true. Anyway…"

Tiamat wondered if he'd been under the impression that she would change her tone in light of his most dangerous abilities. Too bad for him; she didn't have the patience to treat him differently. Their relationship was charming as it was. Why would she rock the proverbial boat? "I'll remain here for a few days more. I've recovered well enough but considering what happened to me, Ajuka and I both think it wise that I stay under observation a while longer."

"Right. Makes sense. How've you been?"

"Alive, apparently," she muttered. "And yourself?"

He grimaced. "Alive, apparently. I've, uh, spoken to Ajuka. And Wukong. And Michael. Well, Michael's projected image—he's too busy to come down in person. Everyone's looking for Samael. Heaven, the Underworld, a bunch of factions around the world. Even the ones who weren't directly affected."

Tiamat didn't think that was such a big surprise. "I think you'll find the number of people who want to destroy the world quite low."

"I guess… Well, I've asked them to let me know if they find him; I want to be there."

"Why didn't you try to fight him in New York? Granted, I'm in no position to criticize you, given how easily he dispatched me but that—"

"What are you talking about?" Percy asked sharply. "I never saw Samael."

Tiamat's eyes narrowed. "He was there, Percy. Right over the reservoir. We were both facing him."

"I didn't see anything. If I had maybe this wouldn't have happened," he said, gesturing in her direction with a limp wave. "But, well, one second you're standing there, and the next you're falling over with a hole in your chest. Ingvild and I… we didn't know what happened."

"Oh." Tiamat frowned at the door behind him. "I apologize, then, for getting short with you. I know what I saw, though. Samael was there."

How could that have been possible? A psychic projection? But the spear through her chest had been real enough. Maybe some kind of… space-time distortion? No, surely Samael did not possess that kind of power. If he did, then Yahweh would not have been able to lock him in Cocytus.

Then what? Tiamat couldn't even fathom.

"Like I said, I didn't see him. Why didn't you teleport us away again if he was right there?"

"Do you think I wasn't trying? It takes foresight to teleport. Without a prescribed circle, one must choose their destination and build the spell in their mind. The further the destination, the more difficult it is to travel. I wanted to retreat to the Underworld… crossing dimensions with no preparation is impossible. Then there was you and Ingvild to consider."

He dropped his gaze. "Sorry. That was a dumb question."

"You didn't know. Besides, Samael's treasonous existence in this plane made me tremble. Part of me wonders if I made poor choices at that moment."

"All the more reason I should take him out."

"You won't. You can't. Not alone."

Percy nodded knowingly. He opened the door and, prior to leaving, glanced over his shoulder and said, "I'm glad you're all right."

"Wait!" Tiamat barely managed to call out before he stepped through the door. "You should stay for a while longer. I'll contact Ingvild and—"

"Sorry, but no. I really should be heading back. There's a lot going on."

"Rescue and recovery?"

"At first, that's all it was. Pulling people from the rubble and all that." Percy looked stony and severe. "But it's something else entirely now. Manhattan is a graveyard. Undead everywhere. I've met some exorcist cells from Long Island. Seems like we're the only ones doing anything right now. The army can't effectively deal with the undead, so I can't stay away for long. Too many close calls already."

Tiamat allowed herself a pitying nod. She had forgotten that something unpleasant had been brewing in New York prior to Samael's attack—maybe because it hadn't escalated beyond a minor inconvenience for the months that it had been ongoing, though more likely because her mind had been too preoccupied to recall. Either way, the rot had apparently been brought to the surface thanks to Samael's thorough purging.

A thought occurred to her. "And what about Ingvild?"

Percy raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"She said you asked her to remain here."

"To be close to you."

"To keep her out of harm's way, more like," Tiamat accused. "You ought to have her with you out there. She can handle the undead. I haven't been honing her abilities for her to gather dust. We both know she isn't meant to be ornamental."

"Some of them have been tough," Percy said defensively.

"Which is why she'll still be with you," Tiamat said. "Besides, if these are cursed undead, she can be helpful. I've taught her how to deal with the more common curses."

"Michael gave me a way to consecrate my sword for that exact reason."

Tiamat sighed explosively. "Honestly, why bother building up her confidence if you plan on keeping her away from trouble? I thought you wanted her to be self-sufficient? I doubt you'd appreciate being left behind in this situation."

"I… I just…" She watched as Percy struggled to find words.

"I'm sure she's already asked to help. But you refused her, didn't you?"

"Look—"

"You need to give her enough space to grow. She's not your pet. A child, yes, but not a pet. There's no need to keep her on a leash. Or in a cage."

His face twisted bitterly, and he let go of a sharp huff of air through his nose. "Fine. All right, fine. I'll bring her along. Happy?"

"Do I look happy?"

"You never look happy."

"I must be a mirror then."

Percy rolled his eyes.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The first couple of days were the hardest. That was before the National Guard came in. People weren't sure what to do—those that had survived, at least. Samael's attack had scythed through Manhattan, starting from Harlem and stretching down to the Lower East Side. The light spears blew through concrete and wood and rent steel. Most buildings could not withstand the sudden storm. The roads were full of holes or debris, making them unusable, and power was down in most places hit by the barrage.

Almost everybody Percy had spoken to had lost somebody. Blood stained the streets, and fires were left uncontained. He tried to help where he could, but he was just one person. He was glad when he met a few others who told him they were setting up an independent rescue group until the government showed up. Survivors made their way to the Bronx and Long Island in droves.

Only a day later, Percy started to notice the undead. A couple here, a handful there, they were mostly weak and shambling, real zombie types. Percy could handle those easily enough. They mainly relied on sight and touch and were limited to an average human's physical capabilities.

A few, though, were made of tougher stuff. They were smarter, faster, stronger, and just plain relentless. These, Percy had to worry about. Not really for himself, but for other people. The army had eventually come and set up a perimeter around Manhattan, securing the bridges and tunnels that hadn't collapsed to make sure the wandering undead didn't get off the island. Apart from that, they hadn't done much else. Percy figured they were drawing up plans to deal with something they'd never seen before.

For a while, Percy had thought he was the only one in Manhattan doing something about the undead. It wasn't easy, either, since his chest felt a little tighter after pulling Samael's blood out of Tiamat.

Thankfully, he'd been proven wrong when he ran into a three-person exorcist squad around the Upper East Side, struggling to kill one of the greater undead. After lending them a hand, he'd learned that the Church was in contact with the government and that they were trying to work together. They couldn't tell him much more due to protocol, but they implied that the remaining exorcist squads from Long Island would become more active soon.

From what he could tell, most of the squads based in Manhattan had been destroyed in the attack.

Percy's eyes closed at the thought. He felt the familiar hand of anger dig its fingers into his gut. It wasn't his fault, he told himself. There was nothing he could have done. He knew that. He knew that.

But when Percy opened his eyes and saw his city like this… he felt his heart begin to break.

It was so hard to breathe. He wanted to scream, but it felt like he couldn't get enough air, like he was drowning, like he was back with Luke and the pit scorpion, like he had Backbiter pressed to his throat.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. They didn't deserve this.

Nobody did.

Percy was suffocating. He'd promised himself that nothing would ever happen to his city again. Realistically speaking, he should have known better. So long as some people wielded abnormal amounts of power, atrocities like this were bound to happen.

Nobody else cared about justice. But he did.

Samael.

Samael.

Percy burned the name into his mind. Until Samael died, there could be no peace in the world.

Meeting Michael (via magic projection) and Sun Wukong hadn't put him in a better mood. Sure, they'd come to help him, and they had in some ways, but he wasn't the one who needed help. Many people were suffering in New York, let alone the world. What were they doing for those people?

"Whatever we can, without violating humanity's sovereignty" had been their answer, and Percy had been furious.

Now, though, he was just resigned. Non-humans would cause humanity all sorts of problems, and humanity would be expected to deal with them on their own. That much hadn't changed, nor would it ever change. Percy was just a janitor volunteering for overtime. Getting mad at Michael and Wukong wouldn't do him any good now.

Distantly, he noticed Ingvild becoming antsy. The ghoulish undead had spotted them. So far, it was only a group of five, but if more caught sight of them, it could become a small swarm. There were no greater undead in their numbers, which meant Ingvild should have no trouble.

"All right," he said, giving Ingvild a slight nudge toward the rooftop's edge. They were in Hell's Kitchen, standing on top of a half-collapsed building that looked down 10th Ave. This part of the street was mostly free of rubble. Many buildings around were squat, a couple of stories at most, so they didn't make as big a mess when they fell. "Go get 'em. Remember what Tiamat taught you. And don't overthink things, okay?"

Ingvild took a deep breath. She stepped forward and looked down at the shambling ghouls. Glancing once more at him, she readied herself, then jumped off the roof. Percy watched as she landed right in front of the group of undead.

The undead leading the pack tried to grab onto her, but Ingvild raised her hand and blew off the top half of its body with a whorled blast of silver energy. Bits and chunks splattered the pavement. She stepped back, half in shock, and looked at her hand. The undead fell over, down for the moment, but Ingvild didn't move to finish the rest.

Percy understood her hesitation. Many of the undead he'd run into still looked like people—the magic that animated them also apparently preserved them. Some showed signs of decomposition, but most of the undead around Manhattan had died about a week ago, and they had only appeared en masse five days ago, meaning they'd been dead for about two or three days.

Killing them was… tough. He tried not to think about it.

There was no way he could afford to lose his nerve.

"They're already dead," he called down to Ingvild. "They can't think or feel. What's happened to them is twisted; what we're doing is mercy. Don't overthink. They deserve to rest in peace."

Ingvild skirted around the other advancing undead, shaking her head. Her eyes darted between him and the undead she'd taken down. "I-I can't!"

"You can!" Percy insisted. He felt sick for encouraging her. "It's for their own good and for the good of everyone else. They'll kill and kill because that's all they're good for now. It has to be this way."

He watched as Ingvild pulled away from the undead again, her face a warping array of horror and sorrow.

It was too early for her, he realized. Maybe if they were killing monsters that looked less human… but, no, if they fought something intelligent, he was sure Ingvild would hesitate as well. At least these undead couldn't think, talk, or feel. Honestly, they were a good starting point; if only she could overcome the sight of them.

If only it were so easy.

Ingvild's wings popped out of her back. She leaped up and floated above the restless undead as they gathered below her. Percy had been ready to jump down a few times already, but the fact that Ingvild hadn't just flown back to him was telling. She remained directly above them.

Eventually, his patience paid off. Ingvild gathered her nerve and opened her hand once more. The undead stood no chance. Four ephemeral crescents of energy cut vertically through each of them, splitting them right down the middle.

They fell in a heap of halves.

Ingvild floated over to him. As soon as she landed on the rooftop, she sank to her knees, bent over, dry heaved twice, then threw up. Percy pulled off his sweatshirt as she retched some more. Once it seemed that she'd finished, he walked over and offered her the hoodie. She took it.

It has to be this way, Percy repeated to himself. Though even if that was true, it didn't stop him from feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. Honestly, he should have known better. Tiamat made the wrong call here, and he'd been suckered into thinking she was right.

Ingvild managed to stand on her own, though she looked pale and sickly. She had tears in her eyes. "I… I shouldn't have done that," she mumbled, absentmindedly cleaning her face with his sweatshirt. "I shouldn't have done that. Why did I do that?"

Percy kept his mouth shut. He couldn't think of anything to say that would make her feel better.

Unfortunately, their work wasn't quite done. He only spoke up once Ingvild had seemingly composed herself. "If we leave them like that, they'll come back in a couple of hours," he said quietly, repeating what the Church's exorcists had told him. "These aren't vampiric undead; they're cursed undead. We either have to completely destroy their bodies or dispel the curse."

Ingvild stared at him. Her breathing had started to grow uneven again, but she reined in her growing panic and forced a determined nod. She was tense, though. He noticed how her hands clenched and relaxed several times, along with her jaw tightening.

"Tiamat said you could handle the curse," he continued. "Can you?"

If she couldn't, that was fine. He would be able to consecrate Riptide and deal with them himself, thanks to Michael. In fact, part of him wanted her to say no so he could spare her a bit more anguish.

But she nodded and, with a sniffle, said, "Yes, I can."

Percy put Riptide back into his pocket and gritted his teeth.

It has to be this way.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Percy and Ingvild split the work from then on. They made their way through Hell's Kitchen, down every street and alley, along the waterfront, looking for survivors and hunting the undead.

They didn't manage to save anybody. By now, those who survived the initial attack had either been evacuated or killed by the undead. People were hard-pressed to stay without power, food, or clean water. Ferries came at regular intervals to take people to the mainland or Long Island.

That left the undead as their only company. Percy couldn't stand the sight of them. With each swing he made, Riptide seemed to grow heavier in his hand. He hated having to do this. But he'd chosen to do it. New York was his city, which meant he had a responsibility to keep it safe. Some—most—things were out of his control, and because of that, he had to work extra hard at the things he could control.

Ingvild hadn't protested when Percy told her he would take over fighting the undead, and when he asked her to handle the curse, she gave a grudging 'okay' that led him to believe it was anything but. She probably didn't want to be around him anymore. Fair enough. But it was good practice, and she did her job well.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long until Percy felt himself grow tired. The curse of Achilles was an amazing tool for fighting short battles, but it made him expend energy like nobody's business. He was mentally exhausted and hadn't eaten in almost eight hours. He'd been running on fumes for days now. Idly, he wondered if turning a sanctified Riptide on himself would get rid of the curse of Achilles. Or if somebody else could do it with magic.

Good thing nobody knew about it. For now, he still needed the curse. One day, maybe he wouldn't, but that day was still a long way off.

Percy looked at Ingvild. She seemed about fed up with their macabre task, which made his decision to wrap things up easier.

Something caught his eye before he could suggest leaving. Percy frowned as he watched an owl lazily glide toward them. In the week following Samael's attack, he hadn't seen any animals moving through the city, not even insects.

The owl landed atop the burnt-out husk of an SUV. Ingvild and Percy glanced at each other before staring at the owl. The bird regarded them with its wide eyes, blinked only once, then shuddered. It took off again without a sound, slowly gaining altitude as it flew down the street until it was just a speck in the cloud-ridden sky.

"Percy Jackson," a voice called out.

Riptide was at the ready before the person had finished uttering his name.

A woman sat cross-legged in the middle of the rubble-strewn road. Percy wasn't sure if she was good at hiding her discomfort or if she just felt none considering her position, but either answer was scary to think about.

The woman had a black patch over her left eye and dark hair that reached just past her shoulders. She was wearing a grungy but fashionable military-style jacket. Her face was stoic, the very picture of unaffected detachment, though she exuded danger—as if her guard were as impenetrable as his skin. She reminded him of Tiamat in many ways.

Percy's stomach flipped when he saw her working eye was the color of stormy clouds. Looking closer, he noticed the similarities to the goddess from his timeline. There was no mistaking it.

It took all of his willpower to keep from walking away. He did not have the patience for this, but he also knew better.

"Athena."

"You know me." She didn't sound surprised.

"What do you want?" Percy tried to think of a reason for her sudden appearance. The only connection he had to the Greeks in this timeline was through the Netherworld.

The goddess leaned forward, hands on her knees, her face betraying nothing. "Percy Jackson, I have good news. The charges against you have been withdrawn. Congratulations."

"Really? Wow, thanks so much. I'm not sure what I would've done without you! Quick question, though, what the hell are you talking about? What charges?" Yup, this was definitely tied to what happened in the Netherworld. Still, just because he knew that, didn't mean he had to admit it right off the bat.

"The murder of Thanatos, of course," Athena said, ignoring his scathing sarcasm. Her tone was flat and level, as if she were reading from a script that belonged in the trash rather than in her hands. "If not for me, you would have been on trial months ago. My impetuous father and tactless uncle wanted to bring you before the Olympians. I managed to forestall the worst of their impulsive tendencies. Once they were of a more agreeable temperament, I convinced them that your part in all of this was that of a victim."

"I… What?" Percy struggled to keep up. He'd been accused of murdering Thanatos (which technically was true), and Athena had defended him? Something about that felt off. He put the thought of potentially meeting this timeline's Poseidon out of his mind. It wouldn't be his father anyway. And Zeus had never liked him, so no surprise there. "Hold up, you came all this way just to tell me about that? No offense, I'm not buying it."

Ingvild shifted uncomfortably and lowered her arm, the magic circle on her fingertips fading away. Percy was sure she didn't understand what was happening any more than he did, but she kept quiet, which was probably wise.

Athena shook her head. "No, of course not. I came to appeal to your sensibilities and ask for your help." She gestured around. They were on 10th Ave again, though in an area more devastated than where Percy and Ingvild had started the day. "This catastrophe is like none other that I can remember. Millions dead in mere minutes, millions more wounded, and billions left scarred. The situation continues to evolve as we speak."

"Would you mind getting to the point? I've got things to do."

"Fine," Athena said. "Hades is to be put on trial, but he has closed the Netherworld and refuses the summons. I want you to help me bring him in."

"Count me out. The Olympians should learn how to deal with their own mess for once."

"None of this would have happened if Thanatos was still alive, you know."

Percy had been just about ready to walk away from the conversation, but that stopped him cold.

"Hades' deep-seated insecurity led him to make bad decisions. We are now seeing the results." Athena stood up and wiped away the dust that clung to her pants. "Whether you help me or not is your choice; I won't force you to do something that most people would consider borderline suicidal."

"You're not really selling me on the idea," Percy said. Though, he wondered if she already knew that.

Maybe she knew that he was already sold, that she'd already hooked him. In fact, at this point, she would be hard-pressed to convince him that this wasn't his problem anymore. Maybe he was too easy to read. Or maybe she was just that intuitive.

Athena gave him a distant, humorless smile. "You've met Hades. I'm sure you've heard about him, too. He is immensely powerful. I can't reach his energy output, nor can you, nor can Sun Wukong, nor can Tiamat—though she may come close. He will likely resist our attempts to restrain him, and we would lose in a fair, straightforward battle. But it's rarely wise to choose fair battles. We certainly won't."

"What's with all this 'we' business?" Percy asked.

"I'll be joining you, of course," she said, still wearing her false smile. "Add in a recently returned stray, and we have an underwhelmingly competent team. The three of us will enter the Netherworld and detain Hades. I would suggest we bring your friend along with us, but Hades won't allow a devil into his territory. Regardless, our odds of success are... favorable."

"That's really reassuring."

"With some luck, we may be able to rein in this soul-spread while we're at it. Who knows? The undead are so unsightly." Athena shrugged and began walking away. She called out behind her, "Two days, Percy. Let's meet here again forty-eight hours from now. If you agree to help, that is."

Now he was sure she knew, but Percy didn't see any point in beating around the bush. He would help. Obviously, he would.

It occurred to him that she could be lying. Something told him that if Athena wanted to lie, nobody would be able to see through it. She could be baiting him. Why would she, though? Percy was sure he would already be dead if she wanted him dead. Athena was careful and patient. Was this part of the long con? Was she just another Enron? He didn't know. What he did know was that she'd already gotten him invested.

"Percy… what just happened?" Ingvild asked once Athena was out of sight.

He shook his head. "Deja vu, that's what. Let's get out of here. Tiamat's gonna have an aneurysm when she hears this."

If his fight with Thanatos had started this whole thing, maybe this fight with Hades would end it.

What was the worst that could happen?

Author Note: Thanks for reading.

It probably doesn't come as a surprise that Tiamat isn't dead, since I teased the extent of Percy's water powers several chapters ago. There are stipulations to it, of course, and drawbacks as Tiamat deduced. No such thing as a free lunch, after all.

Anyway, Samael did not attack Kuoh to kill Saji or Issei because, by this point in canon, neither of them are particularly powerful, so they weren't pumping out enough dragon-y vibes to interest him. Issei's dragon arm was given the succ by Akeno, so no issue there, and he can't really use his Balance Breaker yet. Saji still only has one of Vritra's Sacred Gears, so there's even less dragon in him than Issei.