Hermês in a side courtyard of the palace. He was staring at an Îris-message in the mist of a fountain. The goddess of rainbows had them playing over all the screens in Olympos while Hḗphaistos coordinated with Athḗnē to begin laying out their plans to fix the infrastructure of the country. Twas wonderous that Krónos only kept his plans to the western planes instead of the Old World where their power was the strongest.

Still, he kept his attention on it, ignoring Martha's whispers about Perseus' approach. Mortal newscasts from all over the country flashed by: scenes of Typhôeus's destruction, the wreckage our battle had left across Manhattan, the president doing a news conference, the mayor of New York, some army vehicles riding down the Avenue of the Americas.

"Amazing," Hermês murmured. He turned toward the halfblood. "Three thousand years, and I will never get over the power of the Mist . . . and mortal ignorance."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Oh, not you. Although, I suppose I should wonder, turning down immortality."

"It was the right choice."

Hermês looked at him curiously, then returned his attention to the Iris-message. "Look at them. They've already decided Typhôeus was a freak series of storms. Don't I wish. They haven't figured out how all the statues in Lower Manhattan got removed from their pedestals and hacked to pieces. They keep showing a shot of Susan B. Anthony strangling Frederick Douglass. But I imagine they'll even come up with a logical explanation for that."

"How bad is the city?"

Hermês shrugged. "Surprisingly, not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But this is New York. I've never seen such a resilient bunch of humans. I imagine they'll be back to normal in a few weeks; and of course I'll be helping."

"You?"

"I'm the messenger of the gods. It's my job to monitor what the mortals are saying, and if necessary, help them make sense of what's happened. I'll reassure them. Trust me, they'll put this down to a freak earthquake or a solar flare. Anything but the truth." He knew that he sounded bitter. Mártha and Geōrgios curled around his kērū́keion, but they were silent, grieving too for the child that he lost.

Perseus said, "I owe you an apology."

Hermês gave him a cautious look. "And why is that?"

"I thought you were a bad father," Perseus admitted. "I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

"I did know his future," Hermês said miserably.

"But you knew more than just the bad stuff—that he'd turn evil. You understood what he would do in the end. You knew he'd make the right choice. But you couldn't tell him, could you?"

Hermês stared at the fountain. "No one can tamper with fate, Percy, not even a god. If I had warned him what was to come, or tried to influence his choices, I would've made things even worse. Staying silent, staying away from him . . . that was the hardest thing I've ever done." And yet, it still felt like nothing more than an excuse. Thousands of years for this same lesson which children, legacies, and cousins alike and no god still had a reasonable answer. But that was the way of Fate. The Moirai were independent, at the helm of necessity, directed fate, and watched that the fate assigned to every being by eternal laws might take its course without obstruction; and Ζεύς, as well as the other gods and man, had to submit to them.

"You had to let him find his own path," the demigod said, "and play his part in saving Olympos."

Hermês sighed. "I should not have gotten mad at Annabeth. When Luke visited her in San Francisco... well, I knew she would have a part to play in his fate. I foresaw that much. I thought perhaps she could do what I could not and save him. When she refused to go with him, I could barely contain my rage. I should have known better. I was really angry with myself."

"Annabeth did save him," Perseus said. "Luke died a hero. He sacrificed himself to kill Kronos."

Oh, such sentiment but alas, "I appreciate your words, Percy. But Krónos isn't dead. You can't kill a Titan."

"Then—"

"I don't know," Hermês grumbled. His paternal grandfather had better never let Hermês get his hands on him. Father banishing him to Tartara that first time will seem like a deluxe spa when he was done. "None of us do. Blown to dust. Scattered to the wind. With luck, he's spread so thin that he'll never be able to form a consciousness again, much less a body. But don't mistake him for dead, Percy."

"What about the other Titans?"

"In hiding," Hermês said, the lies dripping from his tongue easily. "Promêtheus sent Ζεύς a message with a bunch of excuses for supporting Krónos. 'I was just trying to minimize the damage,' blah, blah. He'll keep his head low for a few centuries if he's smart. Krios has fled, and Mount Othrys has crumbled into ruins. Ōkeanós slipped back into the deep ocean when it was clear Krónos had lost. Meanwhile, my son Luke is dead. He died believing I didn't care about him. I will never forgive myself."

Hermês slashed his kērū́keion through the mist. The Îris-picture disappeared.

"A long time ago," Perseus said, "you told me the hardest thing about being a god was not being able to help your children. You also told me that you couldn't give up on your family, no matter how tempting they made it."

"And now you know I'm a hypocrite?"

"No, you were right, Luke loved you. At the end, he realized his fate. I think he realized why you couldn't help him. He remembered what was important."

"Too late for him and me."

"You have other children. Honor Luke by recognizing them. All the gods can do that."

He sounded like his sister. Hermês's shoulders sagged. "They'll try, Percy. Oh, we'll all try to keep our promise. And maybe for a while things will get better. But we gods have never been good at keeping oaths. You were born because of a broken promise, eh? Eventually we'll become forgetful. We always do."

"You can change."

Hermês laughed. "After three thousand years, you think the gods can change their nature?"

"Yeah," Perseus said. "I do."

"You think . . . Luke actually loved me? After all that happened?"

"I'm sure of it."

Hermês stared at the fountain. "I'll give you a list of my children. There's a boy in Wisconsin. Two girls in Los Angeles. A few others. Will you see that they get to camp?" He had not had the time to ensure it himself though he knew that Leaneíras would not be happy to gain more stepchildren.

"I promise," Perseus said. "And I won't forget."

Mártha and Geōrgios twirled around the caduceus.

"Percy Jackson," Hermês said, "you might just teach us a thing or two."

Drew was waiting for her at the elevator, pretending that she couldn't see Ethan and Alabaster in chains being led away by her half-siblings.

Leaneíras glared at both boys, wrapping an arm around her friend though she too felt the pain of their betrayal like a never healing wound. She pushed Drew into the metal box and kept her eyes—which were finally losing the excess mageia—on the numbers.

"I won't tell you to keep your head because that's not fair," she told her friend. "But while its down keep praying for strength and I'll hold you up until you can stand on your own again."

And she did exactly that the girl ugly sobbed into her arms as that elevator music played. Said music was awful—Neil Diamond or something.

When they got into the lobby, Leaneíras found her parents squeezing the life out of her Brother and his soulmates.

Leaneíras' feet was moving before her thoughts and she soon tackled her stepfather into a hug. Paul spun her around through the air before placing her onw her feet just so her Mother could hug her though admittedly, it felt more like chokehold as she had to fight to get out of it once the woman started to cry and tighten her embrace.

"We saw the building lit up blue," she said. "But then you didn't come down. You went up hours ago!"

"She was getting a bit anxious," Paul said drily.

"I'm all right," Percy promised as their mom hugged Annabeth and then Eliza and then Drew. "Everything's okay now."

"Mr. Blofis," Annabeth said, "that was wicked sword work."

"Sword work," Leaneíras questioned. Drew smiled wryly. "Apparently, our parents have some skill in monster fighting. And your Mom knows how to work a shot gun."

Her Mother flushed while Paul shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do. But Percy, is this really . . . I mean, this story about the six hundredth floor?"

"Olympos," Percy said. "Yeah."

Paul looked at the ceiling with a dreamy expression. "I'd like to see that."

"Paul," their mom chided. "It's not for mortals. Anyway, the important thing is we're safe. All of us."

Leaneíras smiled, turning to look at her brother but then, Nico ran in from the street, and his face told them something was wrong.

"It's Rachel," he said. "I just ran into her down on 32nd Street."

Eliza frowned. "What's she done this time?"

"It's where she's gone," Nico said. "I told her she would die if she tried, but she insisted. She just took Blackjack and—"

"She took my pegasus?" Percy demanded.

Nico nodded. "She's heading to Half-Blood Hill. She said she had to get to camp."

WORD COUNT: 1678

COMMENTS FROM AUTHOR:

1) Lea and Hermes in the next chapters: Talking and communicating and proclamations of love.

2) THE PJO ARC:

2A) Percy: Consistently showing his loyalty

2B) Lea: Consistently dealing with disloyalty

3) I'm lowkey ready for HoO. I've already have the outline ready and the scenes that I want to work in. I think my biggest obstacle will be the SON and HOH arc because I don't like SON and HOO has a lot of fight scenes and yk, Tartara.

3A) It also has to be written so carefully because it's not like the PJO arc. I can do whatever tf I want with HoO and still keep it in canon. I mean look at MLNW. They fit and work a bit more seamlessly than the OG Seven.

3B) Octavian is connected to all kids of the Big Three. His relationship with Jason, he's good friends with Rue, and his adopted sister was the twin sister to Percy. He's then further connected to Leo through his childhood friendship to Lina. Which makes him connected to Drew threw Jason and Leo. And with he's further connected to Frank through Rue who is connected to him through Hazel and her curse. Like it is a dream team.

3C) They fit. They function. And if there are any issues that could have happened, then they have their other crew mates to soothe it. Like I love it so much.