Title: [ Prime Genesis ]-Ω-[ Fallen Soldier ]
Fanfiction Type: My own twist on a sort of Chaos/Order Percy Jackson Fanfiction.
Beta: None
Expected Update Rate: Once a month on average. There will be times in which I update faster or slower, so average varies.
Words per Chapter Goal: 1,500-4000, maybe more.
Pairings: No Percabeth, Thalico, or things of the sort. Don't like it, don't read it. I'll most likely add a slight pairing later on.
Plot Plans: It's a surprise. All I will say is that it may be a bit surprising, and that there will likely be one or more stories that continue from where this will stop. I'll probably add a companion story or two containing my version of the universe's history. There will definitely be a companion story about the Four; some of my OCs. It will contain various short stories and legends, and also include their history.
Chapter Notes:
Some of you may be confused as to what the difference is between this note section and the one below; this is for the current chapter, the other one is for the entire story, so if I were to refer to scenes from this chapter, I would do so here, and for the previous or future chapters I would write my thoughts below.
Quick thing to note: a soul barrier is something that keeps the dead out of a specific area; the effects can be anything from simply stopping them from getting closer to causing immense pain. If made correctly they may even make a soul ignore a certain area.
A soul may only enter without harm if given permission. In this case, only the Judges, Hades, Thanatos, and any of their demigod children would be able to give permission.
This chapter is shorter than the others. Sorry to disappoint, but I lost inspiration for the Underworld scene. Hopefully the next will be easier to write.
Book Status (Total)
Story Favorites: 10
Story Followers: 19
Chapter Status
Word Count: 2889
-=-Ω-=-
Yeah, random creature of darkness in the last chapter. No worries.
Poor Percy, that seemed like an actual horrible way to die and now I feel bad. :P
Dang these characters.
So, here's what has happened as a refresher:
After being forced to travel through Tartarus with his friend, Annabeth, Percy is falling apart. It just gets worse when he's sent on a quest and finds Seekers temple. It is a given fact that he would die in three or so weeks. Time skip ahead; Percy's hallucinating, getting visions about the destruction of the Camp. An unknown monster arrives, tries to possess Percy, fails, and instead kills him while he's in the infirmary hours after said failed possession.
Oh, and the Fates kill him off a minute before the next day; would he have survived for a minute more, he would've broken his prophecy. Gotta love them.
Everyone good? Great.
Shall we continue with the story then?
-=-Ω-=-
Questions/Comments:
[AgitatedDog9288]~Glad you like it! You'll have to be patient with my chapters, this is a thing I do in my free time, so I randomly update whenever I feel like it.
[Chapter 2]
"We are strong. Until Hope herself is released, we will keep fighting, for we are demigods, and if we go down, everything falls with us."
I Do not own anything from the PJO books, nor the books themselves Those rights go to Rick Riordan, the genius himself.
When light appeared once again, Percy was rather shocked. He had been floating in his own personal black abyss for what had felt like eternity. The brightness was almost enough to blind him. As it was, he had to squint and wait for his eyes to adjust.
The first thing that hit him was that he was at Camp, though how it was possible was unknown to him. The next was that the air stung his throat. Then he remembered that he didn't need to breath, and the pain was gone. It was most likely torn from his screams before his death.
Then he saw what was in front of him. Actually saw it, and not just the background. A shroud was being burned, as per the Greek tradition to burn a fallen ones body and reunite them with the gods and their ancestors. The bodies, however, were now buried, as modern era families now prefer.
The fabric was a rich blue color, a sea green trident decorating the middle. There was a black and gold outline around it, and it had almost seemed to shimmer with power. Underneath the trident was a sewn picture of his sword, Riptide, spanning the horizontal length of the shroud.
It was simple, and he loved it, for it was undoubtedly made for him. He was never the type to show off or let his pride overrule logic, and in death he would never have wanted a showy shroud. But he regretted that they'd had to make it, and that it was burning in the fire, the flames turning a bright silvery-blue as they ate away at it.
The last of the shroud was burned, and the fire flashed a bright white before returning to its original red and orange color.
His vision flickered again, turning black, then recovering as the scene changed. He was with his father and Tyson in the underwater palace, also known as the mythic city of Atlantis that had long ago sunk into the ocean.
They seemed to be calm at first, then Poseidon froze. He had turned pale, his hand white as it clenched against his trident. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears. They'd seemed to be talking, but Percy couldn't make out their voices. Everything was muted.
Tears appeared in Tyson's eye, several emotions flickered over his face; denial, anger, sadness. The dam broke, and he burst out in tears, because it was impossible that his brother could have died, he was too strong for that, it couldn't have happened, not to his big brother…
The trident shone with power, and even in death he could feel the release, the hurricanes, typhoons, tidal waves, earthquakes. There was a murderous intent in Poseidon's eyes, and again Percy's vision vanished as a golden light had filled the room.
Then his spirit finds Sally Jackson, his mother. Thalia, most likely on leave from the Hunters given the circumstances, was knocking on the door.
No, he hadn't wanted to watch this. He understood what was happening now, and this wasn't needed. But it was. In his heart, he'd needed to know that everyone was told of his demise.
His mother had answered, like she always did. He could see Paul in the background on the couch, looking at the door in curiosity. Sally must've understood that there was bad news, be it from the shine of Thalia's eyes, or the sad and solemn air around her that even his spirit had noticed, because her expression was suddenly worried.
They were talking- it was again muted. He knew that the news had been shared, though, since his mother had burst into tears, and Paul, the ever caring husband, came to investigate, only to end up the same way.
He was suddenly glad for the silence. He didn't want to hear his mother cry, to listen to her heart break, shattering his own in a chain reaction.
The darkness grabbed him away again, that time being the last. He faded in again, finally in the DOA recording studio; the entrance to the Underworld. He could feel a few coins in his pocket, and mentally thanked Annabeth for her quick thinking. It was well known that Charon wouldn't let any souls pass on to the other side without payment, and the drachmas that he had been supplied with should've been enough to get by.
He could now feel what the other ghosts had the first time that he'd come to this place. It was peaceful, of course, but there was an underlying flare of agitation at being this close to the final resting point, and a sense of annoyance and boredom that had seemed to radiate from the being before him.
Before this could cause him to make any rash decisions, he stepped forward, into the small, empty area in front of the desk. Charon gave a glance, which had turned into a stare, for he was definitely a ghost, and it wasn't everyday that he was able to escort a known 'hero' across the Styx, and into the afterlife.
Percy placed the drachmas onto the counter, and Charon took them quietly. He gestured for him to follow as he led the way to the underworld. He walked through a door and was immediately assaulted with the feeling of being sucked down a tube before they appeared on Charon's boat. It started moving, and the guide of the dead finally spoke.
"So they finally got to you too, eh? Not that surprising, honestly, but I had hoped for your sake that you could be ignored, as your namesake was." At Percy's confused look, he rolled his eyes, which was slightly unnerving in the ghost-skeleton hybrid form that he always took inside of the underworld.
"It's like a curse. The hero's fate, as some say. As you've no doubt noticed, almost all heroes have a bad life, a gruesome ending. Nemesis goes a bit overboard with her scale when she tries to balance the praise that you wonders of demigods get with the punishments, all of the monsters and wounds. It's partially her fault, but there's not much you can do; no one can influence another god's domain."
He gave a slight pause to allow Percy to absorb this information, and when he'd deemed it long enough, he continued.
"Of course, some demigod heroes are able to bypass her punishment, be it by luck or just by her ignorance. Perseus, son of Zeus, for example was able to live a somewhat happy life after slaying Medusa and scraping together everything that he'd had left. Ah, here we are. Good luck."
He pulled up to the bank and allowed his passenger, swiftly pushing back off and into the river. Not, however, before he heard the simple thank you that the young man had given him. He went back to his vigil over the newly dead with a slight smile on his ghostly face.
Percy stood at the beach of the Styx, simply looking down into it's depths. He wasn't quite ready to leave yet, though he could already feel the pull of the judges, the need to be sorted into the afterlife. He watched as random pieces of fallen dreams floated by. A small doll, a book, the ever present watch or fragment of jewelry.
He wondered what he himself had now added, if perhaps that silver wrist watch wasn't his wish for just a bit more time…
He eventually left, the call of the dead too strong to ignore. He followed a well worn path through the blackened grass and dead trees of the Underworld. Every now and then there would be a bit of color. A purple flower here, a green bush there, a patch of clover by that tree.
Persephone's influence, no doubt. whether she knew it or not though, the color was a relief. The monotone landscape seemed to draw him in, tantalize him, beg him to just give himself to the landscape and become just another unidentifiable cloud of mist.
It helped ground him, and definitely helped him keep what was left of his sanity. eventually he'd traveled to a large wall with multiple lines spanning a large number of spirits each, and ghosts seemed to randomly appear and be guided to a line by one of Hades's helpers. A skeletal guard quickly shepherded him into the fastest line. He didn't have time to argue as he was shoved forward by a ghost that had appeared behind him. A glare had said ghost shrinking back before he returned his gaze to his destination.
The Judging Hall.
Minos had long since been replaced, having insulted a child of Hades or the Lord of the Dead himself one too many times. He'd never learned who the replacement was, but as long as he'd get an unprejudiced trial then Percy didn't really care.
Quicker than he'd thought possible he was pushed into the building. The three judges stood tall on a raised podium. A golden mist shone behind them, the mist arranged in such a way as to remind him of a flat screen TV. Hesitantly Percy walked forward, stopping only when he'd reached the middle of the room.
The middle judge had then stepped forward, and the other two followed in suit.
They spoke as one, lending the words an eerie quality as they echoed around the room.
"Perseus Jackson, son of Sally Jackson and Poseidon. You shall be Judged."
The mist pulsed brightly, then settled. It solidified, and images appeared. He was forced to watch; he couldn't tear his eyes away as his entire life sped by.
His mother holding him in a hospital after he was born, his father, smiling down at him in his crib, strangling a snake as a child, being watched by the cyclops, pulling that bully into the fountain using the water, killing the fury, Minotaur, his first view of camp. Then his quests, the moments flashing by, Tartarus, the images refreshing his memory, causing him to feel each phantom pain as the memory of getting the wound went by.
Then camp again, the memory slowing slightly. His quest, and Seeker's temple.
The memory chain paused there, reacting to the surprise of the Judges. He could feel their eyes on him, looking him over far more seriously than before. Soon enough, they continued, and the memories finally stopped, the mist dispersing.
"Brave, loyal, but foolish," mused the first Judge.
"And powerful," the middle one added. "Though somewhat ruthless. A killer of his stepfather, though his death justly deserved."
"A tragic life, but with the possibility to be much more…" The last Judge trailed off.
"He'd forgotten," The middle Judge cut in, suddenly filling the silence. "Calypso, his promise. The titan, his so called friend. The deaths, Charles Beckendorf of Hephaestus, the son of Apollo. The destruction of a monument, the Arch."
"But the betrayals," argued the first. "The child of Hermes, Ethan Nakamura, the descendant of Nemesis, That daughter of Aphrodite, the spy of Kronos, the son of Hades who had sent him down to the deadliest part of the Underworld. The monsters had forced destruction, and the trust in the oath given from the gods had been disregarded."
"Glory," Spoke the last Judge. "The son of Poseidon, though through a broken vow. He was given his titles for a reason. The killer of Kronos, vanquisher of Hyperion, defeater of Ares, credited to the change of Iapetus, recoverer of two of the three most powerful weapons of the gods. Should I go on?"
The others were silent, and Percy took advantage of that.
"I am still here, thank you very much. I didn't as for this, any of this.I hadn't wanted to kill anyone, to fight these wars, to be a demigod. But I did what I had to do, and thought that the gods would keep their promises. Maybe I thought wrong, maybe I was too trusting.I will accept what I am given, with compensation if need be. Just judge me not on my naivety, but my thoughts and my actions instead."
They silently regarded him, their thoughts and expressions neatly hidden behind their golden masks. Eventually, the first spoke again.
"Fate can be unkind, but only thrusts greatness upon those who can handle it. Others who cannot will have chosen their path, and fallen because of it. But you do have a point. Shall we vote?"
The others nodded, and, starting with the first judge, cast their votes.
"Elysium, my vote is given."
"Asphodel, may my vote be received."
"Elysium," the last said. "May he be accepted freely."
With a blast of light, Percy's fate was sealed, and with a rush of wind, his soul was forced to the land of Eternal Happiness.
A flash of warmth throughout his body signaled that he passed through the soul barrier around Elysium with ease; now that he was judged, his soul was able to enter without harm, unlike it would've been otherwise.
He was almost within the gates when he felt it. Slowly, he started to be pulled away, as if he were a piece of lint being dragged into a vacuum. He was forced to a stop, and no matter how hard he'd tried to advance, he couldn't.
Then he began to slide backwards. He let out a shout and redoubled his effort, to no avail. Soon he heard the quiet muttering of the Fields of Asphodel. Then, the screams of the punished.
He tensed, his own shouts mixing into those of the tortured. He would not, could not, go back. Not to Tartarus…
He could feel the frozen air behind him, see the darkness start to engulf him. Too late, someone noticed.
He fell into the pit just as Nico appeared, his surprised expression turned to panic. He heard Nico yell "Percy!" before everything turned black.