Wanna hear a story? It's a story about how one little reader clicked the favorite button and made an author so, so happy!
Chapter Four
The light trickling in through the magnificent cavern is white, but flecked with colors Annabeth does not even harbor names for. It dances over the brown stone, quivering in the air like the northern lights for split seconds at a time.
The room, as far as Annabeth can see, stretches on both up and down for infinity; of course, there is a finite limit, but she cannot see either way. The levels get significantly lighter and busier as they rise, darkening in the deeper pits of the areas below. The room is also larger than Annabeth can comprehend; shaped like an enormous T, stretching further and further in each direction. The main walk, the one leading straight from the grand entrance, is wide and long, coming to a halt at an enormous wall in the distance. It isn't connected to the walls in any way, hanging suspended in the air, like a rock bridge.
On either side of the walk, stories upon stories are piled upon one another. The carving in the rock is beautiful – in between each of the levels are intricate sculptures and jeweled murals. As they continue upwards, far in the sky, the levels look more like apartments, with small patios and wooden doors installed into the rock.
Making up the sides of the gigantic cavern are open rooms, with only boundaries. They're high and far, separated from one another, and Annabeth can barely peer into the rooms. However, she does see that the building on her left is a library, stories upon stories of books with dark wood cases and gilded spiral staircases leading between levels. There's no glass, leaving the many people navigating the bookcases to fall free. On the left, swimming pools and training centers reign, the level even with the walk packed to the brim with sword fighters battling wolves larger than bears.
Crossing between the buildings carved directly from the stone, spanning the gap of nearly fifty feet across, are other catwalks. Most are narrow and slanting in random directions. There is no symmetry in their design and no safeguard to keep anyone from taking a slip off the edge. Arches, too, span the gap, adorned with statuettes and memorials. The random bridges continue up into the sky and Annabeth assumes they continue down lower, as well. People and wolves walk across the bridges side by side, the wolves occasionally hitched to wagons and the humans occasionally carry sacks over their backs.
Despite the signs of work, laughter echoes over the rocks. In the large allot of vacant space between buildings and walks, demititans with the brightly colored wings of parrots dart around, playing games in the air. As Annabeth watches, a person without wings – perhaps a demigod – pitches himself off the edge of a higher catwalk and plummets below. Annabeth gasps as he disappears beneath their level, then reappearing in the arms of one of the angel demititans.
"This," whispers Percy, "is so much more than a thousand."
Cato laughs. "You asked how many demititans there were, and I answered truthfully. It's not counting the demigods and hybrids."
"I thought you meant as a whole," breathes Annabeth, her chest tightening. "As in, all of your numbers. There – there are so many! This place is huge! Di immortals! How is it organized?" Annabeth wheels to Cato. "Who designed this place?"
Cato's grin bares all of his teeth, a secret concealed in those golden eyes. "A very famous Athenian, actually. I guess it's in your blood. See, it's a pretty cool system. Towards the middle here, where we're at, there's community things like libraries and training rooms and schools and all that lovely stuff. Towards the top, there's mini-mansions – giant apartments for each family and-slash-or wards. It's awesome up there, but not as awesome as the bouncy-house level. Towards the bottom, there's more dangerous things – at the very bottom, it's where we keep the beasts. Please don't ask me to elaborate, they scare me. Just self-defense monsters. They're kept in good living conditions and everything, that's just… no thanks. There's flaming armories and all of that dangerous stuff down there. Haha. I don't go down there if I have to, and even when I do –"
"Cato!" squeaks a voice. A boy with white hair feathered with grey dapples drops a mountain of scrolls from his arms, his freckled face panicked. "I didn't think you were – hold on, I'll announce you…"
"No need." Cato waves the boy's intent aside, a grin stretching over his face. Abandoning Annabeth and Percy, he strides up to the boy, placing two hands on either of his fragile shoulders. Before Cato, the giant Titan King, the frail child seems petite. A lion and a lamb.
Warmth fills Cato's expression. "Kiddo, you know these two, right? Annabeth J – uh, Chase, and Percy Jackson. You're a shipper, right?"
The boy's bright blue eyes shine almost silver, widening like coins. He beams over Cato's shoulder, ducking and craning to look around the Titan King. "Am I? There's no way that's really them!"
"That's really them." Cato maneuvers his body around so he's not blocking the boy's view. Dropping to a kneel so he's at the child's eye level, Cato slings an arm over his shoulders. "You know Cora. Gods, you know Cora. Cora, go find Cassi, will you? Thanks."
Annabeth leans against Percy, her eyes still darting over the architecture as Cora flies past, hurtling over the rock and hurling herself off the edge in a blur of crisp white fur. She's lost, without another sound or sight. Some of the winged demititans shout out cheerful hellos, pausing in air to wave down, before spiraling back up again.
"You also know Brendon." Cato frowns. "Hey, bud, how about you go find Sheile to bring her down for official first impressions? Steer her clear of your sister." Brendon, too, pitches himself off the edge, whooping enthusiastically. "I think you know Nico – right?"
The boy nods, eyes twinkling. His teeth shine with a radiant grin. "We met each other in the Labyrinth once. Hello again, my friend. You're getting older. You'll be wrinkly before I know it."
"And you haven't aged a day, tyke," retorts Nico. "How is it in Neverland?"
Cato laughs, the resonating sound rich and hearty. Several wolves perk at the sound, swiveling in Cato's direction with the beginnings of grins. "So, yeah, you know him. Then there's Percy and then there's Annabeth. Annabeth is the girl and Percy is the guy, just in case you're not totally clear on that. At first, I wasn't. Percy, Annabeth, this is Jordan, son of Krios. He's like my little brother, so be nice."
"Krios." Percy frowns. "That dude had ram horns. Nice to meet you, kid."
Jordan looks up at Cato imploringly. Cato smiles and steps back, rising to his feet like a golden pillar. Jordan cautiously lopes forward, his face twisted into a gregarious smile. He pauses at a friendly distance. "Yeah. My dad. Dude of the night stars. Wanna see something cool?"
"Absolutely!" exclaims Percy in excitement so well delivered it is impossible for it to be anything but genuine. Annabeth smiles reassuringly at the child, nodding in encouragement, eager to see what the child is so proud about.
The boy extends a hand, palm-up. His eyes narrow with focus. Erupting from the palm of his hand, a small orb of ethereal light flickers for a few seconds before disappearing into a puff of smoke. Grinning triumphantly, Jordan gazes up at Percy's face in hope of approval. Judging by the brilliant blaze in his eyes, Jordan finds it.
Annabeth smiles at her boyfriend, casting him a warm glance, a glance she knows he cannot see. Perhaps that's why she gifts him with it now.
"That's really awesome, Jordan," Percy cajoles, warmth saturating his tone. "Do you think you could –"
Percy is cut off by a cry, echoing off the stone like a reflection on a mirror. Other voices mimic it, calling it out with joy. People freeze on their busy tracks, wolves pause on their padding jogs, blades and shields are dropped, children are hefted onto their father's backs, books are shoved beneath arms, and bags are slung over shoulders. The entire city rejoices, song breaking out amongst the people. One cry reigns above all others:
"Hail, Cato has returned!"
Smoke had blazed his face an unholy shade of grey, marring his cheeks and blackening his dark hair. The man shakes out his mane, sending a wave of ash into the air. Fire has claimed its victim. The warm glow of the fires burn behind him, highlighting his cheekbones in staccato flashes of orange and red. The son of Hephaestus cracks his calloused knuckles, rubbing his coarse hands together.
A snowy white wolf races past, its feet dancing more than racing over the ground. The wolf's movements are an elegant waltz. Skipping steps, the she wolf hops through the forges, avoiding the sooty bellows of igniting fires like a jackrabbit. Even the embers seem to avoid her, repelled by her cleanliness and alliance with the water.
Oscar watches as the dollop of white fades into the shadows, wringing his hands nervously. Last he'd heard, that wolf was looking for someone. He's heard all the legends about Cora, of course: the White Wolf Red, the first demigod to stand against her allied camp, the first one to strive for peace. But not all of the legends are particularly friendly towards that white wolf. Rumors fly, rumors telling of how her mate clutches her tight every night to chase away her madness. Rumors of days when the Titan King is not around to console his love seem to rage through the forges like a fire through dry grass. No, that white wolf is one he does not trust.
Sheile is also unpredictable. Slamming his hammer down upon the table, disturbing the bowl of cleaning water, Oscar dwells upon the politics of the tense Titan world. Sheile, though a warrior and a strategist, is nearly as unstable as Cora is rumored to be. Though not mad, per se, her tactics are ruthless and bloody. Sheile is not afraid to take lives, no matter the cost from either side. The thought of a general with such cruelty sends Oscar's stomach quavering. No, he's fine with the Titan King.
Cato. What a fine lad, that one! Fair to a fault, never wishing to raise a finger. Cunning, yes, but kind. If only there were more men like him. Oscar's heart glows warm at the thought of the kind man as he dips his hands in the cool dish of water. Cato is the one that remembers him by name, the one who asks how his day was down in the mines. He noticed before Oscar's mother that he had gotten burned badly in the mines, and had swiftly sent Oscar to the Titan King's own healers. Everyone has their own story about the Titan King. Not one has been negative. True, when he's off in berserk mode, the boy can get out of hand, but that's only if someone pushes him there.
As for the last one… Oscar's hand freezes, ice prickling up the back of his neck. That goddamned child of Iapetus, literally. Nervously, Oscar yanks on his jacket, glancing at the shadows. Any negative thoughts of Victor are dangerous to be having, no matter where you may be, how far from his reach you are. No one speaks of Victor. Not here. Not in Silvestris.
The black wolf certainly walks like a king.
After the first cry had wrung out, Annabeth and I had been swamped with carousing wolves. They had been very polite and posh-posh, bowing their heads respectfully if they'd accidentally come to close and retreating. One by one, they'd all transformed into humans, clapping their hands. Children had approached Cato with flower necklaces of hibiscus, daisy, and your classic clover. Soon, the wolf is weighed down with flowers, the necklaces leading from his breast to neck.
At the first sight of the paparazzi, Cato had stepped back, his bearing changing. Bloating and shifting, the Kronos dude had slowly morphed into a wolf, fur piercing through his clothes. Now, he pads forward with poised majesty, pitch black fur dusted in the slightest hint of gold, mane crowning his head.
Awkwardly, Annabeth and I had tailed him, following the example of Nico.
The wolf had navigated the crowd with perked ears, tipping his head respectfully to everyone. There's plenty of room on this main bridge thingy for crowds to gather on either side and for Cato to walk down the middle. His royal demeanor, though majestic, is shattered by the constant stream of words coming from his mouth.
"Jason! Hey, Jason!" greets Cato, sifting through the crowd, grinning like a maniac. "Jason! Did you ask her out yet? Did you? Did you ask Piper out yet?"
A girl to his left goes deathly pale, and the boy Cato had been addressing blushes beet red.
Cato gasps. "No?" He laughs. "Well, Piper, moment of truth!" Cato winks, nudging the boy's muscled arm playfully. "Who's lord of the sky? Who is? Now, go get that girl! I'll give you some privacy."
Continuing down the lane, Cato spots something else of interest. He stops before a little bald girl with a leu of flowers, kneeling before her. I watch, recognizing the victim of cancer. The little girl walks up to the wolf warily, still cautious of the furry beast, like anything would be facing that brute. Cato bows his massive head, flattening his ears against his skull and extending his neck. The crowd stills, eyes widening.
Slowly, the girl reaches out, looping her flower necklace around the neck of the wolf. She pats him thrice on the soft fur of his cheek, before backpedalling and retreating back to the legs of someone who may be her mother.
"Thank you, Grace," whispers Cato. He doesn't say a word more, but rises in silence, and continues down the road.
Slowly, the crowd roars back to life, but not without paying due respect to the girl huddled in her mother's legs. People bustle around Cato, each vying for their King's attention. I glance at Annabeth to find that she's glancing at me.
"A treaty is sounding very good," I whisper, watching as Cato speaks cheerfully to a gay couple, watching the gleeful tears spill from their eyes as he blesses their relationship.
"No kidding." Annabeth gestures towards the architecture that she's been goggling at nonstop. "Look at that! Cato said it was carved by fangs, imagine how many there are to do that!"
"So let's do everything in our power to fortify a treaty." My hand finds hers, fingers lacing together. "I think Cato's pretty damn trustworthy."
Annabeth rolls her eyes. "He's going to end up being a brainwasher."
"Excuse you," calls Cato over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around fully. He glances back at them, lupine eyebrows raised.
"Sorry!" I apologize, shouting over the crowd. "Her, not me!"
Cato laughs with his gravelly wolf voice, shaking his head with a ripple of flowers and turning back to the front, still chuckling. He continues onward, chatting amiably with everyone. I roll my eyes, rubbing a thumb over the back of Annabeth's palm.
"Is… is that the throne?" whispers Annabeth, her grey eyes straining to peer into the distance. "Oh my god, it is. Look at that! Damn!"
On the far side of the bridge, on the tip of the T, is a wall. I suppose it's more of an H – there are two more annexations leading in either direction, but still. The entire wall is bejeweled, set with gems and beautiful stones that sparkle like a million stars. It isn't a story like the other mosaics had been. More like just celestial images of moons and suns and all sorts of beautiful stuff.
Two thrones lie set in the stone, clearly fitted for human bodies, not wolf ones. They're slightly raised on a couple of steps, to create a slight stage. One is furbished from pure gold, the other in gleaming silver. Otherwise identical in design, they seem almost godly.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Cato freezes. "Wait a second." He backpedals sharply, eyes swinging to adoring fans on his left. The wolf's posture really is something grand, just the way he holds himself. "Jessica. Is that a baby bump? Are you just playing with me? Jessica, don't lie to me! I know it when people lie!"
The woman Cato had addressed smiles and claps a hand over her swollen stomach, cheeks rosy. Behind her, a guy in his thirties wraps his arms around her, palms over the bump. How anyone could be that happy over a squealing wet paper towel, I'm not sure.
"Congratulations!" cries Cato, genuine emotions filling his eyes. "Oh gods, I'm going to cry. Hey, listen, if you need any advice on parenting, do not hesitate for a moment: come to me. It's all really, really weird, and honestly, I'm still learning so…"
"What?" whispers Annabeth. My brow scrunches and I shrug, just as baffled. That punny lunatic with a kid? Seems a bit strange, especially considering he looks nineteen or something.
Cato smiles to people and greets them, climbing the stairwell leading to his throne, staying in his wolf form. Snorting under my breath, I can't help but notice there's a seat cushion on the golden throne, the one that's presumably Cato's.
Taking the steps two at a time, Annabeth and I scale the platform without difficulty. Nico practically takes them in one bound. People pool before the start of the first step, as if a powerful taboo wards them back.
With a powerful stride, Cato paces back and forth before the jubilant crowd, his golden gaze calming their frenzied cheers like a balm. Though Cato speaks no words, he successfully quiets the crowd. You could hear a pin drop in that moment.
I take a second to assess my surroundings. The buildings carved from the walls – the giant apartment/library/etc things are instead just sculptures and all that jazz. The bridges are especially broad at this point, probably to make way for the crowds bunching around the edges. Birdmen hover in the air, shedding jewel-colored feathers onto the people below. Nico gestures me over to his side, where he stands by the thrones. Annabeth and I stand there as well, looking confused as ever.
"Now!" Cato's voice rolls naturally over the stone. Booming chords naturally fit the royal dignity he holds himself with. Cato, direct center of the platform, looks over the ground with perked ears and raised head, tail high and eyes steady. The rainbow light spilling from above highlights the gold tinge to the tips of his mane. "As you all know, I'm back! Huzzah for that!" Cato tilts his head forward, smiling expectantly.
"Huzzah for that!" laughs people in the crowd, rolling their eyes and exchanging pleasant smiles. Children giggle.
"Also," continues Cato, turning slightly to face me with his broad wolf face, "we have guests to welcome! Ladies and wolf – uh, wolfer…men? Gentlewolves! That sounds right! Ladies and gentlewolves, please give a warm round of appaws – get it?" Cato chuckles at his own joke, despite the dead expressions in the audience. "Okay, okay, I'm focusing. Give a warm round of applause to Annabeth and Percy! Oh, and Nico! Say hellllooooo, Nico!" The wolf turns and faces them, back to his people.
"Hellllloooooo, Nico!" cries the crowd behind Cato.
Cato blinks, twisting his head around to catch a glimpse of the demititans. "Actually, I was addressing him, but that's okay, because you're awesome, and I like awesome people. Are we going to say helllloooooo, Percabeth then? I expect a Percabeth."
"Hellllllllllooooo, Percabeth!" shouts most of the crowd. But one dude with that special troublemaker cadence cries, "Hello, Percabeth, then! I expect a Percabeth."
Cato sighs, shaking his head and disheveling his ruff. "Honestly, Leo, you deserve that one. But I'm coming for you, mister." Cato turns back to face the crowd once more.
"Now," Cato announces, in a chatty tone of voice, one that still demands attention, "as I was walking through the rabid beasts known as 'a crowd' by most specialists, I saw two things of notice. Both people thought we wouldn't notice, but I did. The first one is mega important. The second is eh. It could be more entertaining."
The crowd hushes. Annabeth and I exchange confused glances. I, personally, am totally lost with this whole ritual thing.
"The first one is a woman." Cato walks forward, slowly stepping down the stairs like a drop of honey gradually sliding down a slight slope. "She thought we wouldn't notice, but we did. She thought she could be clever. But no." Abruptly, Cato swings his head about. People desert before his gaze, allowing him to lock eyes with his target. "Margret, you have a ring impression on your ring finger. Left middle finger. That means you're getting married, and you didn't have the decency to tell me first. I am offended."
The woman steps forward, her blonde hair bound back in a long braid. Her fingers jitter together. "I'm so sorry, Cato," apologizes Margret, eyebrows knit together. "I couldn't help it – it was love. I tried so hard, I did, but when he asked, I just couldn't –"
"Take it back now, y'all." Cato cocks a lupine eyebrow. "What do you mean, you're sorry? Are you getting engaged to a serial killer?"
"No." A quiet male voice steps from the shadows of the crowd, his shoulders squared with regal bearing. His pale skin and dark eyes can only have one origination – another child of Hades. "She's getting married to me. Please, don't take this out on Margret."
Cato sits back on his haunches, looking severely confused. I didn't know before that animals could look that baffled. "What are you talking about?" he wonders in awe. "Do you think that I wouldn't approve this marriage because of that demigod-slash-demititan thing?" Irritation creeps into his voice. "That I would care that a son of Hades is marrying a daughter of Themis?"
Cato stands again, four paws lifting him high above the crowd. His eyes burn. "No. There will be none of that in my city. You love him, that's correct, Margret?"
Margret, blinking tears from her eyes, nods.
"And you love her, don't you, Garret?"
The man – Garret – firmly nods yes.
"Then I do not see what I can dispute with, or why I'd want to. I love that you're finally getting together for eternity. Did you know that you two were adorable as puppies? Fact. Garret, whenever anyone bigger than Margret would pick on her, you'd give him the stinkeye until they backed off? Once, I backed off. You – oh, gods, he's looking at me with it." Cato glances swiftly at the floor. "Wow, that's powerful. Moving on."
Laughter ripples over the crowd. A smile plays with the corners of my lips; I can find myself liking this Cato dude.
"But seriously." Cato huffs out a large breath. "This is me, a demititan that's married to a demigod. It's not that big a deal. I bless your marriage, and wish you the best lives into matrimony. Have fat potato babies. Live long happy lives. Sprinkle one another in watering cans. So forth."
"Thanks…?" Margret sounds bewildered.
Cato grins and winks. "Now, the next thing is a bit harder to recognize." He jumps on the stage in a single leap, paws whispering over the stone. My heart beats a bit faster at the sight of the giant black wolf padding towards me, despite the constant flow of friendly conversation.
"So, this man, he thought we wouldn't notice, either." Cato shakes his head. "But guess what? We did. Now, look here. We've got ourselves a Percy Jackson. Real, by all standards. He can talk. Annabeth, pinch him."
"Ow," I complain as Annabeth socks me in the elbow before I can react to Cato's statement.
"See?" Cato turns to the crowd, ears level. "He's flesh and blood. But, as I was walking down the lane and minding my own business, I noticed something else." Cato looks out over the crowd. "There, next to Christana and Jerome, on the left. See him? I do, too. Would anyone mind explaining to me why there is a second Percy Jackson in the room?"
"Sorry. I had a bit of a mess up with time." My own voice sends my skin crawling. I jump forward, walking briskly to the edge of the stairs to see that there is another me. An older me: longer hair, taller, more muscular, and with the dustings of that black beard I've been trying to grow darkening the lower half of his face.
"Percy," scolds Cato, turning his gaze to me – not that other me. "What will I tell you about travelling in time? It's dangerous!"
"Not our fault." The other me shakes his head. "We got too close to a little Kronos daughter throwing a tantrum. Accidentally sent us back in time."
"Us?" questions Cato dubiously.
"Shouldn't I say us?" the other me wonders. "Because there's two Percys?"
"I guess so." Cato frowns. "Well, welcome Percy-in-three-years, everybody!"
Annabeth is beside me in a second. Her voice is breathless. "Wow, you get hot!" She's too transfixed by the other me's hotness to notice my cross glance at her.
"Right." Golden energy leaks from Cato's eyes, spilling over the ground like a tendril of fog. "Say goodbye to other Percy, everybody!" A bolt of lightning seems to plunge the world into pale yellow for a split second. When I regain my sight, the other me is gone – leaving nothing behind.
"He's back in his own period now," laughs Cato. "So, I suppose we should get down to business… First, I suppose we should call down the Titan Queen."
"She's already here," purrs a female voice from the shadows of the thrones.
Damn, this chapter's long.
How is everybody?
POLL: Do you like the titan city, Silvestris? Any thoughts on the winged titans, or the few demigods we see speckled throughout the crowds? It'll all be explained, I swear.
Ciao,
~wolfluvermh