Chapter 7: Die

Part I: Abberation

Death is peaceful.

I know, I've been there. Several times, actually. But each time something always happens, ambrosia saves me — just when I'm about to receive the end that all want to receive.

The eversleep. The final avenge. The peace.

Dying hurts.

I know, I've died. Several times to be exact. But each time, something saves me. A spell, cast by Apollo... I can never truly die because of all the half times I've already died. All the half lives lost add up. All the souls captured and vanquished stack together.

That probably doesn't make sense.

But that's okay, death doesn't make sense.

But a death is still a death.

And a kill is still a kill.
_

"Last words?" The thunder god asked, he was not happy, or sad. He was usurped by the fact that the greatest hero of the age could have possibly decided to betray the entire Olympian Council. In fact, something seemed quite off about the whole situation — if only he had peeled and prodded at it, perhaps destruction would not have stood to obliterate them all.

"Yes," the prisoner said, dignity shining in his bright green eyes. "I hope you all die knowing that this is how you treat your heroes that served you willingly! I hope that she," he nodded towards a masked female, "Gets sentenced to the Fields of Punishment like she deserves!" He spat on the ground.

"And most of all, Jason, I hope you enjoy your drink." He slipped in with a crooked gleam of ecstasy in his eyes as the son of Jupiter picked up his crystal wine glass.

"Jason, NO!" Screamed the masked figure as she ran towards him and knocked the invaluable glass to the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces and red liquid spilled upon the floor.

Apollo was the first to speak, he flashed to the spilled liquid and lifted a sample of it to his nose, clear distress is written into the lines of his face, "Poison, father."

"You dare strike at my son?" The thunder god said in a deadly quite voice.

"You will kill me. I will kill him," he said with a dry laugh, "Even in death I shall haunt him, forever! For the betrayal of me I will bring down your golden boy, the crown of her eye. An eye of an eye, as they say."

Then he looked at Zeus in the eyes, "And that, that little poison, that was just a warning."

Jason looked shocked, "W-what? What happened to you? Why would you kill me?"

"What happened? — You ask me! What happened to me... I changed! I saw all of you for the cowards you really are. I was stabbed in the back and now vengeance is the only terminal. Life is terminal," he cried, "Everything is worthless!"

Then a small voice spoke up, one that both pacified an angered him, "Why did you betray us?"

"I did not betray you," he said with a dry laugh, "I did not betray any of you. The traitor is in your midst, though, just like the prophecy said."

The masked woman spoke up, "All father, he is lying, who else would be able to hold a grudge such as this? Only one as rebellious and callous as he could secretly be helping our enemies without getting caught for this long."

"You are quite right." Zeus said, "Perseus Jackson, for treason against the Monarchy, you have been sentenced to death."

The soother began crying; sobbing.

The masked lady grinned triumphantly.

Jason Grace looked down at his feet, Roman training hadn't prepared him for this — this murder of his friend.

"I am not an idiot," he hissed, "I know the evidence is against me, but I thought someone — my father — would take my side! Anyone! After all I've done, all I've sacrificed..." A tear slipped from his eyes, before he hardened his heart.

"This is barbaric," Athena whispered to Artemis, "Olympians do not stoop to such level."

Poseidon... couldn't... look... at his... son...

"Take everyone out, Apollo, Ares, only gods of Olympus may witness this." Zeus decreed, thoughtful.

The masked lady's grin fell a she and all the others were ushered out.

Then it was just the gods, and Percy.

"I will never do anything for the gods of Olympus again." He vowed under his breath, a solemn oath that only Hestia heard with a frown — her hearth being torn apart. But Zeus would not listen to his elder sibling, she could not tell him the truth, bound in chains of indivisible words like the rest of the knowledgable.

He opened his mouth one last time, one last warning of the harbinger prophecy. His voice was like honey, layered with poison and venom that could strike a thousand warriors, "Pray Olympus," he intoned solemnly, "cry out your pleas, for next time there will not be a Percy Jackson to save your lives."

Zeus stood up and raised his master lightning bolt, the same one he had found and returned to the very same god.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, determined to face his last moments awake and alive, fearing not and with cold calculation. He stared his death down.

And the bolt... was... lifted...

Pain! A thousand kilowatts were streaming through his body, boiling his blood and burning his inside flesh with twist and turns of jagged, cold laced pain that brought only death... or life.

And then nothing.

No pain at all.

Death is peaceful...

He woke up a new person. He stood up, lightning flickering sporadically from his charred body. Where was he?

Was this death? Hades? Sodom and Gomorra? ...Hell?

He raised his arm and suddenly new light of crackling green energy streamed from his arm in frothing turrets of waves. And it burned, how it burned, even more so that the initial severing of his soul into the resting catacomb.

Dying hurts...

He looked at his arms in astonishment, wondering. He no longer felt it, the sea seemed to no longer pull at his soul, the water didn't give him the energy of a thousand suns.

He looked around, his surroundings were barren. He stared at doors, elaborately carved that reminded him of a long forgotten dream...

The Doors of Death?

Perhaps.

He took a step forward, and out of nothing a fiery river materialized, current pulling in the opposite direction of the doors. He pondered it, the Phlegathon mocked him, showed him the direction of death — of giving up.

He took a step towards life, away from an eternal damnation by Hades. The step hurt to make, almost as if otherworldly forces pulled him to the death side. What was left for him in the mortal world?

Revenge. Vengeance. Satisfaction?

He took another step, another jolt of pain that brought him to his knees.

He looked around, there were charred, blackened bodies that lay next to the path...

People who had failed. Been consumed by the pain.

People that had turned around when forward commitment was the only possible choice.

He turned to look at the direction of the fire, and in that split second knew if he took a step towards it he could never step forward again.

Another broken step forward. He had chosen his path. He threw up, but with nothing in his stomach all he could do was dry heave... Still the pain coursed.

Was this his challenge?

Orpheus couldn't look back upon the site that chained his wife, and Heracles had to escape an impossible bench.

And each of Percy Jackson's steps turned him into a new person, each step shed an emotion, a unique characteristic that defined him. Each step was a new creation. Each step hurt his damaged heart, but each step healed him as well.

It was liberation.

Pain? Yes.

But freedom.

So yeah...

He reached towards the doors, only inches away.

So close.

But so far.

One last step... Please? Mommy? Help?

Each step receded, each step built upon layers and layers of tension. Each step new pain that twisted like a jagged knife.

His foot landed solidly, and the Percy Jackson who took the step had changed the second his sole collided with the dirt akin the River of Fire.

So who was he?

He emerged a new creation. With a completely new mindset. The boy that cared way to much of what others thought,
no
longer
cared
at
all.