Something snapped inside of him.
From stress.
From agony.
From pain.
From suffering.
From a lost friend.
From a lost partner.
Percy screamed, and he snapped.
His brain burned.
And the memory block was cut wide open.
Percy passed out, and all of his memories rushed back to him.
Memories are fickle things.
'Look. I didn't want to be a half-blood.'
Percy stared down at those words, written in haphazard handwriting in a blue notebook, letters swimming in his head. The phrase stared back at him, almost taunting him, daring him to continue.
He was in the Poseidon cabin, alone. The soft, everpresent sound of the fountain swam in the back of his mind. The walls were painted a light blue, although there was a dark blue accent wall opposite the door, coincidentally also blue. Seashells and coral dotted the walls, the door, even the bedsheets. Only one bed was made, albeit messily - the blue polka dotted bed sheets were strewn about, the pillow sat at a weird diagonal. The bed was just orderly enough for Percy, although far too chaotic for his friends.
Anaklusmos sat atop the notebook in pen form, golden ink shining on the ballpoint. It dared him to write, to pick it up and hold it comfortably as he did normally. To put his story on the page.
Annabeth had told him to try it. With how much Percy had undergone… no one on the planet could keep it bottled up. Therapy hadn't worked, even with Chiron. He needed something, something, to keep him sane.
At least he had Annabeth as a fellow year-round camper. He didn't know what he would do without her.
Percy took a breath, running his hand through his hair. He had dark circles under his eyes, a telling sign of the two hours of sleep he had been afforded the previous night. The sun was yet to come up, in fact - he wrote by lamplight, waiting for the early sun's rays to peek over Half-Blood Hill.
He picked up his pen.
It was… gods.
He couldn't do this.
Percy put down the pen.
He couldn't get the thoughts out of his head, intrusive thoughts worming their way around his mind… the images… the blood, the pain…
He didn't want to picture them, let alone write about them.
Was therapy supposed to be this hard?
Percy stood suddenly, twisting, pacing to the back wall of the cabin. He couldn't do this. Not now. He couldn't sit here, in the dark, alone, just writing about the death he had experienced. Not even close.
It seems the pen had wound up heavier than the sword.
Percy slumped down to the ground, tears falling. The wall was cold against his back. He couldn't just… he couldn't…
He couldn't think.
Not now.
"Percy, hey, wake up."
His eyes flew open, image fuzzy. He blinked a couple times, wincing at the sunlight. His hand flew up, blocking the light from his eyes.
He must have fallen asleep.
Annabeth had crouched next to him, a concerned look on her face. Her blonde hair was still messy, like she had just rolled out of bed. Her gray eyes shone with worry. But she still had a smile, a comforting smile, one that just helped you feel right at home, like you were all that mattered.
Percy groaned. "Annabeth."
"What happened, Seaweed Brain?"
"I…" Percy stuttered. "I couldn't."
He looked at his desk, the lamp still shining onto the notebook. Annabeth followed his vision, catching a glimpse of the pen, sitting innocuously atop the paper. Her smile fell.
She crouched back down, sitting next to Percy, leaning against him so their shoulders touched.
"I know it's hard," she said, speaking slowly, picking her words. "But I'm proud of you for trying, Percy."
He sniffled. "I guess."
Annabeth leaned her head over, resting on his shoulder. Percy responded in kind, his head against hers. The fountain continued to gurgle in the cabin.
"Three years," Percy sighed. "Three years since I found out who I was, and… and so much death. Zoë, Bianca, my… " He choked up, not even finishing his sentence.
"Is this… is this all there is?"
Annabeth grasped his hand in hers. "We'll get through it. Through this whole damn war, I promise. Together."
Percy squeezed her hand, tight. "Hades, I hope so."
They sat there for a few moments, their breathing in sync, hearts aligned. The emotional toll of being a demigod… it wasn't fun.
Thank the gods he had found a friend to help him through it.
His best friend rose up, offering him her hand. "Let's get you something to eat, yeah? And then I could help you out a bit with your writing?"
Percy shot her a shy smile. "Um, yeah, ok. Sure."
He took her hand.
Sometimes, they show us who we used to be.
Percy walked through Olympus in a daze.
For one, he was stunned by Olympus itself. Just hanging above New York was a mountain, a beautiful one, stunningly tall and giving off an aura of power into the atmosphere. Glittering buildings of silver, gold, and marble clung to the side like barnacles on a beachrock. The Olympian Council's throne room loomed over the city like a benevolent being, raining riches down onto its constituents. There were braziers and olive trees, cobbled roads and open-air markets. It was lively. Deities of all varieties frolicked and enjoyed themselves. It was shockingly exuberant.
But more exhausting to Percy than the entire realm sitting atop his city was the revelations he had been forced to confront over the past week. His father being a god, his mom knowing, his friend Grover was a goat. His mom was taken from him. He had sea powers. He had to go on a quest to retrieve the most powerful weapon in existence, in order to stop a divine war from tearing his world apart.
A weapon which he held in his right hand.
He was tired.
He dragged his sluggish feet up the walkway to the Olympian throne room, ready to end his quest. Ready to deliver a lightning bolt to the leader of the Olympian Council, supposedly the most powerful god in existence.
And all he could think about was his mother.
That last image of his mother, that shimmering golden light, being closed into a ball in the minotaur's fist.
Being sent to Hades' realm.
Percy stopped walking, clenching his eyes tight.
He couldn't cry, he couldn't. He wouldn't.
But he just wanted his Mom back.
He shook his head.
Finish the quest.
He moved once again.
The closer he got to the Hall of the Gods, the larger and more regal the buildings became. Markets and shops gave way to temples and shrines. Massive fountains sprung from marble-lined pools. Exotic wildlife roamed freely. Shrines dotted the hillside, from the coral-laden temple dedicated to Poseidon down all the way to a small brazier dedicated to Terpsichore. Percy could almost feel the magic and the power in the air itself; the area was coated so heavily by it.
And finally, after a longer climb than Percy expected, he reached the Hall's doors.
The marble columns were imposing, reaching up into the heavens. Massive slabs of solid white marble were raised, like a deified Parthenon. The arresting white doors were inlaid with thousands of designs of silver and gold, and seemed like it would be more difficult to push them open than push a semi-truck with just your own hands. The scale was both stunning and frightening.
Percy tentatively stepped to the doors, reaching his hand up in a fist, ready to knock.
But he heard voices from within.
Percy wasn't stupid.
He wasn't going to interrupt the Gods.
A second ticked by.
Ok, maybe Percy was a little bit stupid.
He leant close, pressing his ear up against the marble door. And he listened, to the two male voices within.
" – I see no reason to let this slide."
"You let things go so many times…"
"Oh, really now?"
"I seem to remember a daughter, for instance - "
"Oh, please, brother," the word was spat out, like a curse. "Not this again."
"You killed my…"
He was cut off by a crash. It sounded like a buzz, somehow. Percy instinctively jerked his ear away from the door
"You…" the first man sighed, recalculating. "Brother, he got my Helm back. All I wished to do was repay him. One should never forget their debts."
It was Hades. And he and another God were talking about him.
Shit.
"I will not allow this."
"Why, brother?"
"The Ancient Laws forbid it."
"Fuck the Ancient Laws! You don't care about them, Zeus."
"I will not tolerate this disrespect," the newly-identified Zeus thundered in response.
There was silence for a moment. The other voice spoke, anger and distrust evident in his deep voice.
"She is part of my realm. I shall do as I wish."
"She has entered your realm, by your own hand. You do not get to control when she leaves."
"I can."
"And if you do, I will strike her down where she stands."
There was a slight pause, like the other speaker was considering their words with caution.
"Lest you do not fear a war against both of your brothers, I suggest you tread carefully."
There was a noise from within, something that sounded like both the cries of the damned mixed with the silence after a snowstorm, somehow. That was immediately followed by a boom of thunder, albeit a surprisingly quiet one. Percy backed up.
Who were they talking about?
Was it -
No.
Percy took a step back from the doors, realizing what that conversation could have meant.
No.
Not his mom.
No, please.
Whatever hope he had was snuffed out.
He took another step back, glancing down at his backpack straps.
Maybe Zeus didn't deserve his Bolt.
But as soon as that thought intruded his mind, the doors let out an exhausted creak, and slowly began to open. The thousand tons of marble swung inward, a gate so massive Percy could barely see the top.
"Enter, child. Give me my Bolt," Zeus' voice thundered from within, his throne almost cloaked in a shadow at the end of the Hall. He sat in a dark gray pinstripe suit, the gold tie slightly askew, likely a result of the previous encounter. His eyes were dark, like a poisoned blue. Perhaps the greed had caught up to him.
Zeus beckoned him forwards, expectedly, hand outstretched.
Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
And so Percy, reluctantly, took a step forward, toward the man who forbade his mom's return.
Or other times, they show us who we want to be.
Percy took a sip of his Coke, trying to focus on the sugar instead of the pain in his heart.
Mom.
He had given Zeus back his Master Bolt. There wasn't much he could do, to be honest. Percy had entertained the idea of trying to leverage the Bolt for his mom, but he knew he'd wind up electrocuting himself so bad an electric chair would've seemed a more appealing way to go.
And by the time he got back down to ground level and walked over to his apartment, his building had caught fire.
A freak accident, they said.
A lightning strike out of nowhere.
Percy's fist tightened, crunching the soda can, aluminum folding to his pressure. Percy shook himself out of it, taking another lengthy sip.
"You alright, Perce?"
Luke sat on a rock nearby, sipping on his own drink. The two had been sitting by the creek for nearly an hour, watching the sun start to dip down towards the horizon. It was the last day of summer, but Percy couldn't stand being out in the campgrounds.
He'd have to see all his friends leaving for the school year, heading back to their homes, their families, their lives.
And he couldn't follow.
Percy snorted. "Sure. Yeah."
He wasn't looking, but he could feel the pity rolling off of Luke in waves. He didn't need it.
There was another silence. Percy could hear people off in the distance, laughing, talking. It was distant enough that Percy wondered if he was imagining it, like a sailor hearing a woman's voice in the wind.
A duck quacked in the creek, staring at Percy for a moment before continuing on its way. Just enjoying its own life, no worries at all.
A sad smile wound up on Percy's countenance.
Luke sighed, leaning back into the stone he leant against. He took a sip, a long one, before breaking the silence.
"Has Grover told you about Cary Agosti? Or Elijah?"
Percy shook his head in the negative.
Luke took another sip, before continuing. "Cary was… well, Grover had a friend, here. A fellow satyr, Elijah. He was on assignment, like Grover was for you - hoping to bring a demigod back."
"I never knew Grover had a friend."
Luke nodded, staring at the creek.
"You wouldn't have known. It's not a fun story."
"Oh."
"See, Elijah found Cary. Cary was, well, like you. Of the Big Three. Hades' kid, another product of a broken oath. Cary and Elijah, they got to the Hill about a year after I got here."
"The Hill? You mean Camp?"
Luke shook his head. Percy noticed his Coke can had started to crumple as well.
"They never made it inside. See, Zeus took issue with Cary's existence. Didn't think he should be alive. And so… he killed them."
"Right there?"
Another sigh. "Grover and I were right across the border when it happened, waiting for them to cross. And then, boom." He made an exploding motion with his free hand. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a brutal death. Shit, I spent three days getting the goddamn blood out of my clothes."
Percy winced. "Jesus."
"Grover was inconsolable. I was too, honestly. That was one of the worst weeks of my life. Luckily it was only Grover and I on the Hill. I can't imagine what the Camp would have done."
"I'm sorry, Luke."
"No, no, Percy. I feel sorry for you, man. Every day, month, year, we have to deal with both monsters and Olympus breathing down our goddamn necks. Monsters want to kill us, to eat us. But we can fight back at least!"
Luke crumpled his can, throwing it into the creek.
"And the Olympians? Who fucking knows what they want. And our lives are forfeit if the Olympians decide so. What if one day, they just don't need us anymore? What happens to the Camp? Is this just gone?" He spat this with a conviction Percy had rarely seen anyone have.
"Luke…"
"And you know the kicker, Perce? Thalia got turned into a tree. Am I mad, no, not at all! But Zeus chose to save his daughter's life, and kill his nephew's. You see the hypocrisy in that, right? Killing someone because of an oath he took himself?" Luke's voice was raised now, fists clenched.
"What has he done that makes his rule deserving? Thousands of years, and this is where we're at? With petty gods just, killing or fucking whatever they want, not helping us?"
You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.
"Luke… do I want to know where you are going with this?"
Luke turned to him, arm outstretched, holding a bracelet.
A silver bracelet, with a sickle imprinted on it.
"Join me, Percy. Zeus isn't worth your loyalty, now after what he did to you. To Cary. To Elijah."
Percy was dumbfounded. Not like this, he didn't think it would be like this.
"Luke, the Titans… they're dangerous. And not any better."
He shrugged. "How do we know that? For sure? We have no idea what to think. How much of the stories we hear are the truth, and how many of them are simply propaganda? Me, I'm willing to risk it."
Percy was quiet. His hand had found its way into his pocket, ready to fight at a moment's notice. Luke's eyes were drawn towards his pocket as well.
"Percy… I don't want to fight. I like you, you know? Just… think about it, yeah? I know it's a lot -"
"Yeah, you're damn right. I didn't think you were Kronos' type."
"Be careful with names, Percy," Luke hissed. "But I just… seriously, Percy. I want you to think hard about what you want in the future. Take your time - the offer is always on the table."
He backed away, stepping over the creek. He unsheathed Backbiter, holding it aloft while looking back at Percy.
"Don't take too long, though. He's already growing a bit restless."
With that, Luke swiped through the air, disappearing in a ripple of darkness.
Percy leant back into the stone, stunned. He absentmindedly gestured to the creek, Luke's can flying up from the water into his other hand.
He took another sip of his Coke. He had a lot to think about.
But most of all, they show us our truth.
Percy stared at the bowl.
A sad lump of blue cookie dough stared back.
He wanted to cry, and the only thing holding him back were the windows over the Camp kitchen, and the collection of demigods on the other side of it, playing basketball and socializing. He doubted they even knew he was in there, but he wasn't going to show weakness.
Today was his birthday.
It was his second birthday since losing his Mom, the summer they retrieved the Golden Fleece to save Camp. Percy wasn't entirely sure what Luke was thinking, poisoning Thalia's Tree - it seemed like a complete heel turn on everything Luke was fighting for. But they had saved the tree, and Thalia with it.
And all Percy could think about when he saw Thalia were Luke's words, that day at the creek. If she should be alive or not.
He shook his head again, clearing away the noise.
All Percy wanted for his birthday was his mom's cookies. He didn't know how to make cookies, nor did he remember what exactly to put in them. But he knew they were blue, damnit.
He sent another squirt of food coloring into the mixing bowl, turning the machine on a low speed. But still, the color didn't match exactly - his mom had always been able to make a blue reminiscent of the deep ocean. His was still the color of the shallows of Bora Bora.
Ugh.
Squeezing the bottle, a stream of blue coloring squeezed out from the tip. The mixer swirled, blue bleeding into the dough.
But it wasn't right.
Percy pounded the table in frustration. He bent down, hands on the counter, eyes closed.
Breath in.
Breath out.
Breath in.
Breath out.
He could do this.
This felt more difficult than fighting Ares.
The door opened, Annabeth walking in, carrying a pile of plates and napkins. Thalia was with her, spiky black hair and electric blue eyes standing out. They stopped short at the doorstep, seeing Percy's evident frustration.
"Give me a couple minutes, alright?" Annabeth murmured to Thalia.
The girl nodded her assent, closing the door behind her.
"Hey, Seaweed Brain. You okay?"
Percy looked over at her, still bent over. "I can't get it blue enough."
She frowned, looking over into the bowl. She rubbed her hand on his shoulder, comfortingly, sending a soothing feeling over him.
"Well, don't just lean there, yeah? Let's figure this out."
"I don't know where to go from here."
Annabeth smiled. "Have you tasted them, at least?"
Percy paused, before shaking his head.
"Well, let's try that first, right? And then we'll figure out the blue. Here, take this." She handed him a spoon, holding one for herself.
They dug in, taking lumps of the dough onto their spoons. Their spoons hung out of their mouths as they looked at each other. Percy snorted in laughter, seeing Annabeth sticking out her tongue at him.
Annabeth smiled. "Not bad, huh?"
"Not bad."
"Did you put any salt though?"
"Uhhhh…" Percy looked back at the bowl.
Annabeth lightly rapped him on his arm with her spoon, a smile on her face. "Seaweed Brain."
"Oh, shut it, Wise Girl."
She smiled at him, sprinkling a teaspoon of salt into the bowl.
Percy scooped another small ball of dough, testing it. It was already better. He smiled.
"Yeah, that's better."
"Now, how many drops of blue did you use?"
"I, uh, didn't count?"
Annabeth stared at him, before snorting. "Makes sense."
She reached into the box of food colors, bringing out the red and the pink. "I don't exactly remember why, but you need some pink and red to make a darker blue."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Annabeth said. "Sometimes the answer is a bit out of the blue, huh?"
"That was a terrible pun."
"Yes, but you're smiling," Annabeth gestured with a smile. "I win."
Percy rolled his eyes, but she was right about his smile.
Annabeth put in about four drops of red and half that of pink, mixture stirring a bit more. And lo and behold, it transformed into a light navy blue, just the right color.
Percy's smile melted off his face as the shade matched his mom's cookies, nearly exactly. He was swarmed by memories, of past birthdays, of holidays, of returns from boarding academies. Of the blue candies she would bring home from work, or the times they went out to Montauk to reconnect with the ocean.
It was the color of his father.
A tear rolled down his cheek. "It's perfect."
Annabeth slowly wrapped him up in a hug, pulling him close.
Percy sniffled.
"Thanks, Wise Girl."
"Of course, Seaweed Brain."
They show us who we truly are.
Percy knelt next to Zoë. She coughed up blood, her stomach wound gushing red, instigated by her father's spear. Artemis had already lunged for her lieutenant. Annabeth, Thalia, and Grover surrounded them, gulping back sobs and wiping away tears.
Zoë focused on Artemis, her eyes tearing up. "Have I… served thee well?"
"With great honor. The finest of my huntresses." Artemis' voice was calm, but Percy could tell she was on the verge of tears. It wasn't like a deity to show emotion, but he knew Artemis wasn't going to hold back.
She turned to Thalia, grabbing her wrist. "I am sorry we argued. I… should not have pushed thee."
Thalia held her hand tight, eyes misty as she struggled to speak. "No, you were… you were right. About Luke, men, heroes, everyone."
The huntress turned her attention to Percy. "Not all men. Your sword, Percy."
She called him Percy.
He couldn't speak. He uncapped Anaklusmos, putting the hilt in Zoë's hands. She held it, old friends back together one more time.
"This… this sword has found its true owner in thee. I am honored I gave it to you."
Percy blinked away tears in his confusion. "Gave it?"
Zoë began whispering, staring directly at him. He bent down, bringing his ear over her mouth, her barely audible words escaping her lips.
"But, Percy… I look forward to seeing thee again… the sword has a secret. Unlock it."
Percy pulled back, startled. "Zoë - "
She looked at Artemis once more, her breathing growing steadily weaker. A look was shared between the two of them - a look of silent understanding, of trust, of compassion. Of two millennia together.
And then, in a sudden motion, the last vestiges of her strength bleeding into her fingers, Zoë grasped Anaklusmos by the hilt, and swung it around.
"Zoë?" Artemis asked.
With one last, heavy breath, Zoë drove the blade deep into her own stomach, the blade sinking as blood spurted upwards. A shudder ran through her body as she gasped at the pain, while her audience gasped in shock.
"Zoë!"
But as they all looked at Zoë in stunned disbelief, Percy noticed something.
A faint glow, pulsing from Anaklusmos, the celestial bronze glowing brighter and dimmer and brighter once more. Like it was absorbing Zoë's lifeforce.
But the most noticeable aspect was the inscription, the Ancient Greek lettering, just above the handle.
It was glowing blue.
Percy shook his head. He had to have been seeing things.
"Stars," she whispered, choking on her own blood. But still, she had a comforting smile. "I'll see the stars again, my lady."
"They will be waiting for you," Artemis said, eyes brimming with tears. "We all will."
Zoë smiled, and then took her last breath, eyes transfixed to the cosmos.
Percy let the tears flow.
Through his blurry eyes, he saw Artemis cup her hands over Zoë's mouth, whispering something. A small wisp of silver came from Zoë's mouth, collected in Artemis' hands. Zoë's body shimmered and disappeared, Anaklusmos clattering to the rock below with a clang.
Artemis blew on the essence in her hand, casting it skyward. And through the haze of grief and confusion, Percy noticed the stars above, shaped in Zoë's image, a huntress running through the night sky, on an eternal hunt.
"Live forever in the stars, my huntress."
They show us what we have done, what we have said, what we have experienced. And how those experiences have shaped us.
Elysium was creepy.
Sure, it was a heavenly place. Numerous buildings in different styles lined the cobbled road down the center of the valley - Roman villas, Victorian mansions, modern buildings that seemed to play off of Frank Lloyd Wright's style. Flowers of silver and gold dotted the landscapes. Every lawn was trimmed to perfection, every house spotless. Souls roamed about, happy and free. Hell, even the air felt just perfect.
But Percy couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't supposed to be here. Among the dead, and the quiet. It seemed too cold and sterile, too false. Maybe it only seemed that way because he was an outsider.
And frankly, he definitely wasn't supposed to be here. Nico had snuck him into Elysium to find his Mom and get her blessing, supposedly the only way to bathe in the Styx unharmed. He still wasn't entirely sure what that blessing looked like, but if May Castellan had been able to give hers, Percy figured his Mom wouldn't have a hard time.
So here he was, dashing through the closest equivalent to Heaven, searching for his Mom before Hades found him. Nico was attempting to distract him for the time being - Percy hoped he was successful.
Percy dodged a shade, somebody that looked suspiciously like an old composer of some sort, before continuing on his jog.
A golden retriever in the yard ran after a thrown ball. Percy let a smile form on his face, thinking of Mrs. O'Leary, before his mouth reset to the grim line it had been since he had begun his descent in Central Park.
He reached a fork in the road, the cobble stretching out into infinity both ways. Percy blinked, wiping at his eyes, trying to think if Nico had given him a direction to head in.
"Are you lost?"
Percy whirled around at the voice, and that's when it hit him. He hadn't heard a single voice since he entered the realm - he had seen hundreds, maybe thousands of shades, but no voices.
The dead weren't supposed to be heard.
Except this one.
Standing behind him was another shade, albeit slightly more corporeal than the rest. He wasn't very old - maybe thirteen or fourteen at most. He had trimmed black hair, just slightly longer than a buzz cut. He had a stygian iron knife in his hand, held casually. Obsidian eyes stared at Percy with suspicion and curiosity.
"You can see me?"
The boy smiled. "Of course. Comes with the family."
"Family?"
"Ah, right," the boy said, chuckling. "Son of Hades. Who was it that you're searching for?"
"My mom. Sally Jackson."
He smiled. "Oh yeah, Sally! She makes cookies every Sunday for whoever wants them. Here, I'll show you where she lives."
Percy looked down at the cobblestone.
"Damn. I miss those cookies."
The boy quieted, realizing he had struck a nerve.
"To the left, here."
They walked side-by-side, headed down the path. Percy focused on his breathing, doing one of the exercises Annabeth had taught him. Therapeutic writing hadn't worked all that well, after all. But the meditation worked a bit - at least as well as could be expected. Annabeth had joined him often, something he really appreciated.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
Finally, Percy raised his head again, breathing stabilized and intrusive thoughts gone. He exhaled in relief, running his fingers through his hair.
The boy caught his breath, hesitating, before speaking up again.
"It's nice to meet you," the boy offered. "I'm Cary."
"I'm Percy."
Percy did a double take. Son of Hades, a familiar name... "Wait, Cary? Cary Agosti?"
Cary's hand adjusted its grip on his knife. "Um, yeah. How… Do I know you?"
"Luke Castellan told me your story a few years back. He watched it happen."
"Ah. The blonde kid, right? That makes sense," Cary said. "Not a very fun experience for him, I'm sure."
Percy scoffed. "I imagine it was worse for you."
"It hurt," Cary scowled. "I'll give it that. But it was out of my control, wasn't it? No way to avoid it."
Percy let that simmer for a moment, the words rattling around in his brain.
"Aren't you angry about it? About what Zeus did to you?"
Cary shook his head. "I was angry for years, absolutely. But there's no point in holding onto that anger. It's just the way it is, and we have to accept it, you know?"
"No, no we don't! That's a terrible idea."
Cary shrugged. "You have any ideas?
"There has to be some way to change that status quo, right? Some way other than what Luke is doing. There has to be." Percy said, incensed.
"The Titans are worse than the Olympians," Cary spelled out, "So they're a no-go. Luke is absolutely in the wrong there.
"But unless we somehow gain ridiculous amounts of power… how would we demigods stand a chance against Zeus? It's best for you to try and survive the system, while you can. I don't think there's a savior coming."
Percy snorted. "The system put you here! I might be here in a few days, and not for a visit. The system we live in is rigged bullshit."
"Perhaps. Perhaps you're correct."
Cary suddenly stopped his walk. "Here we are. Sally Jackson's house."
They had stopped at a one-to-one replica of the old beach house at Montauk. Smoke rose from the chimney, and candlelight flickered out from the windows. Somehow, the beach was present, sand stretching to the sea, which seemed as big as the real Atlantic. Percy's expression melted into one of familiarity and affection.
Cary smiled softly, grasping Percy's arm. His fingers were cold.
"I wish you luck. Perhaps you'll find a way to beat the odds. But please, whatever you do, kill Kronos first, would you?"
Percy nodded, eyes still stuck on the house. "I'll do my best."
Cary let go, smiling softly, before heading out. "Say hi to your Mom for me, yeah? And maybe I'll talk to you again, in a brighter future."
And then it was just Percy, feet in the sand, staring at his Mom's afterlife abode.
Percy took a step forward.
Memories are the only medium with which we can truly, truly, learn about ourselves.
Percy and Annabeth sat together on the beach.
It was the day before the summer campers returned. But it wouldn't be the joyful affair it had been in the past, though.
Tensions ran high among the demigods. The Battle of the Labyrinth was still prominent in everyone's minds. Friends and siblings had been lost in the opening battle of a war many hadn't really known about. All of a sudden, a fun summer camp with the occasional incident had erupted in full-blown warfare between an army of monsters, Titans, and turned demigods, and a ragtag group of campers who had only practiced weaponry a few months a year.
Percy knew many were dreading to come back to camp. He himself was dreading the summer, and his birthday - he knew time was ticking on both himself and Luke to make the next move. Or, as Percy feared, at this point Kronos was truly calling the shots. Ever since he had realized the two had shared a body, he was worried Kronos would take over completely.
At least Luke might be able to be reasoned with.
But before the storm, there was calm. And Percy intended to savor every last second of the calm that he could.
And so here he was, sitting in the sand, making animals out of water in the Long Island Sound as Annabeth leant against him, reading a book.
The water swirled. Up from the water leapt a hellhound-sized mastiff, jogging along the top of the water chasing a conjured watery tennis ball.
The mastiff morphed into a pegasus, a nigh one-to-one replica of Blackjack. He stood atop the waves, shaking his head as if to dry himself, wings relaxed. Somehow, even in liquid form, he seemed hungry for donuts.
Blackjack melted into an owl, flying over the surface of the sea. Percy smiled to himself, thinking of his girlfriend. At least, that's what he thinks they are. Annabeth had never brought up an official title, and Percy was too scared of her rejecting the label. But they had gone on a few dates, or at least private meals. Percy figured that was a good start.
He cast his eyes over to Annabeth, who was knee-deep in reading the Iliad. She had been ranting an hour ago about the obvious attraction between Patroclus and Achilles. Percy hadn't even known who Patroclus was.
With a smile, his conjured owl flew over towards Annabeth, landing on her leg, stretched out against the sand. Annabeth chuckled, stretching out her hand towards the owl.
"Hey there, what's your name?"
Percy smirked. "Jimmy."
Annabeth swatted his knee in jest. "Surely an owl can have a more dignified name."
"What would you name him?"
"Hmm… how about Ajax?"
"Is that a hero in the Iliad?"
"...maybe."
Percy laughed, loosening his control over the water. Ajax the Owl disintegrated in front of his eyes, water losing shape and splashing down, all over Annabeth's legs. She yelped in surprise.
"Percy!"
He rolled over, laughing at her expression of shock. Annabeth shut her book, setting it aside as she looked at him, a scheming look on her face.
"I'm gonna get you for that!"
Annabeth scrambled towards Percy, tackling him into the sand. They rolled around, sand kicking up and spraying. The two of them were giggling and smiling, happy for now.
They came to a halt, nearly out of breath, Annabeth on top of Percy. Her blonde hair was messy, her gray eyes playful, her smile wide. She was beautiful. They stared at each other for a moment, soaking in the other in their time of happiness.
She was his everything. Right then and there, he decided on it.
And so Percy leant upwards, pursed his lips, closed his eyes, and kissed her.
Annabeth returned the gesture.
And so there they lay, enraptured by the other, holding one another in a tight embrace, seeking not only comfort but love.
Together.
Listen to your memories. If you don't, you won't learn.
"I can't let you do this, Luke."
Percy stood in the center of the Olympian throne room, Anaklusmos held out in front of him, Annabeth besides him. The power of the Styx flowed through him, skin hardened and resolve strengthened. He still had some energy in him, but still, he was cautious.
One did not survive by underestimating a Titan. Kronos stood in front of Zeus' throne, staring up at the seat of power of the dominant pantheon of the West.
"Luke is gone, Perseus," Kronos sneered. "You think he can hear you right now?"
"I'd like to think so."
Kronos snarled, charging him. The scythe slashed through the air, the whipping sound whistling in Percy's ears. He moved to block, but he was extraordinarily sluggish, his movements nearly a third of their normal speed - he was able to block the initial blow, but had no chance against Kronos' second move, a backhanded jab of the hilt. Percy was flung back, bounced through the air with a force like a freight train.
"Luke!" Annabeth pleaded. "Fight him!"
Percy got to his feet, dashing towards Kronos, trying desperately to keep the Titan's attention from turning to Annabeth. He slid, passing Hestia's hearth, lashing Anaklusmos out towards Kronos' ankle.
It bounced off, blade meeting impenetrable skin. Kronos chuckled, kicking at Percy. It felt like a missile - Percy was flung back into Dionysus' throne, skidding across the floor. He hopped right back on his feet, but Kronos had his eyes set on Annabeth again.
"Luke! I know this isn't what you want!"
Kronos snapped his head back towards him, eyes glowing gold. "Idiot boy. Luke is dead, he's gone. There is no one but me."
"Luke wouldn't give himself to you. No way in Hell."
"Try me, then," Kronos snarled. His eyes seemed to glow even brighter, taking slow steps towards Percy, taking his time. All the time in the world.
And Percy felt like he was moving through honey. He slowly got to his feet, Dionysus' vines giving him a handhold to pull himself up with. But by the time he had even got to his feet, Kronos was mere feet from him.
The Titan raised his scythe, ready to slice down. Would it kill him? No. But damn, it wouldn't feel good. Backbiter was a terrifying sword.
Percy had an idea come to him, though, at just the last second.
"What about Cary, Luke?"
Percy dodged to the side, hoping to avoid the scythe's reach. But the swing had come late - he easily avoided the sweeping edge of the blade..
Kronos had hesitated.
The Titan scowled, twisting his head to the side. "Oh, shut up, would you!"
It didn't seem like he was talking to Percy.
"What about everything you told me, that one day by the creek?" Percy continued. "That Cary's death radicalized you? That you believe demigods deserve safety and freedom? Is this the freedom you want for us?"
"SILENCE!"
Kronos flung his scythe at Percy , but it was an avoidable swing, even with Percy's caterpillar pace. Luke was there. He had to be.
Annabeth had the same realization. She lurched forwards towards Kronos, broken arm held tight to her chest, her dagger aloft in her other hand.
"Luke, I understand now," she grunted. "You have to trust me."
"Luke Castellan is dead! His body will burn as I ascend!"
Kronos turned, swinging his scythe down towards Annabeth's shoulder. But before Percy could even express his fear, Annabeth stepped inside his reach, catching the blade on the hilt of her dagger. It was an impossible move, and yet she did it with ease.
"Your mom was right about the prophecy, Luke. It does involve you, because you're the hero in it."
"Lies!"
"I know you're in there, Luke. You're still holding him back!"
But even as she said those words, she lost her balance. The scythe fell to the wayside, but Kronos followed up with a nasty punch, socking her in the face. She flew backwards, sliding to a stop against the hearth.
Percy couldn't move. He was frozen in time, like the weight of the sky was bearing down on him once more.
But as Kronos advanced on Annabeth, she was able to croak out one more thing.
"Family, Luke. You promised."
Kronos stared at the knife in Annabeth's hand, soaking in the image of her broken arm, bloodied body, exhausted stance.
Then he gasped like he couldn't get air. "Annabeth . . ."
But it wasn't Kronos. It was Luke.
Annabeth got to a knee, but couldn't get further than that. "Luke."
Luke staggered forward. "You're bleeding. . . ."
"My knife." Annabeth fumbled her dagger, grip loosened. "Percy, please . . ."
Percy could move again.
He rushed to their side, scooping Annabeth's dagger from the floor. He knocked the scythe out of Luke's weak grasp, tossing it into Hestia's hearth.
"Jackson…" Kronos voice was gravelly, but was once more overtaken by Luke's youthful voice. "He's changing."
Annabeth looked at Percy, eyes wide. "Hero… cursed blade… my knife."
Luke's skin was starting to smoke.
"Please, Percy. I know… I know where to stab," Luke grunted. "I know where to kill him. Give me the blade, before… before he takes control."
"The prophecy," Annabeth got out through gritted teeth. "He's… the hero."
Percy froze, blade in the air prepared to strike. The words registered in his head.
A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap.
Against what might have been his better judgement, he switched the blade in his hand, giving the hilt to Luke.
"Percy!" Grover shouted. "What…?"
Annabeth breathed heavily.
Percy stepped back reflexively.
Luke moved to unclasp his armor, the side straps coming undone, exposing a small bit of skin under his arm. A perfect spot.
He took a breath, holding the dagger, ready to stab himself.
But he paused. His arm was shaking, fighting, battling with itself. Luke looked up at Percy, a terrified look on his eyes.
"Percy… I'm sorry. Go… win. For Cary."
Percy caught Luke's eyes turn gold.
"No!"
Percy had seen a lot of things in his life. The yellow of Zeus' lightning, arcing down towards Manhattan. The blue of Anaklusmos' inscription, absorbing Zoë's lifeforce. The bronze of Talos, stomping on Bianca di Angelo.
And now, he saw red, as Kronos sunk Annabeth's dagger deep into her chest.
A/N: You thought this was mostly canon? Oh, no, no. See you soon ;)