Hopeless. That's all it was, and Percy Jackson had been a fool to believe otherwise.
At the top of mount Othrys the very fabric of space and time seemed to bend. Far above the shores of San Francisco, even the sun was afraid to shine. The towering black structures of the ancient Titan stronghold blocked out the light brick by reappearing brick. It was cold, the kind of cold that sapped at your bones and grew icicles in your lungs.
The view over the sheer cliffs on all sides would have been idyllic in any other circumstance. Percy had never been in an airplane before, but he imagined this was probably close to what it might have felt like. It seemed nice, to be able to look out the window and see the whole bay area as just tiny strings of light far below. To Percy, the glowing tops of the clouds instead only emphasized how the pale blue horizon quickly faded to pitch dark above the horizon. A great canvas of stars burned hot just above his head as he literally stood at the edge of space itself. It was no wonder the teenaged son of Poseidon was struggling to breathe.
Five shall go west
For even a half-mortal, the sheer presence of the partially constructed throne room was oppressive. The overpowering energy was a twenty pound dumbbell constantly pressed into his chest. Even in a space thirty or so yards across, everything seemed claustrophobic. From Percy's spot half-curled on the floor and clutching at his ribs, the demigod heard more than saw his friends and allies fight for their lives.
His vision spun, blinding explosions of lightning from his right evidence of Thalia's struggle with Luke. On the other side, Zoë and Atlas were blurs of deadly action. The unaging huntress was all grace and silver flash, body whirling with each strike of her curved knives. The imposing Titan general, however, was power incarnate. Despite the daughter's skill, no wound could stall the father. Each blow cleaved stone, each planted step cracked the floor.
Atlas fought the huntress without a weapon, his confidence only outpaced by his durability. The Titan's uniform, a snappy black three-piece suit, barely even stirred with each perfect movement. His grayish skin showed no evidence of sweat. An almost lazy backhand found the daughter's shoulder and something cracked, spinning the girl end over end like a twisted marionette.
Percy grimaced. That's what happened to him too. He had never missed the pelt of the Nemean Lion so much. The thing had been ugly, especially when transformed, but it was warm and sturdy. Much better than a pair of ratty jeans and the blue hoodie he had borrowed from Annabeth's dad.
Atlas laughed in his deep, booming voice. A twisted sneer adorned his face - clearly, the Titan was enjoying this. He yelled something to his daughter, taunting her, but Percy's hearing was ringing too much to make it out.
As she flew across the space, Zoë somehow had the presence of mind to land on her feet. One of her knives was gone, lost somewhere in the battleground. The girl shouted something in return, clutching her remaining blade close to the chest. The former Hesperid's grimacing face was horribly distorted by the impossible bend in reality at the center of the room.
To the goddess in chains
The view defied mortal logic. Even looking at the bottom edge of the sky gave Percy a pounding headache. It was as if light itself bowed to the weight of the Atlas' burden, skewing his vision like looking through a funhouse mirror. The thing was a swirl of colors and light, psychedelic enough to induce a trip all on its own. It was something that shouldn't be and yet undeniably was.
And underneath it? The small form of Artemis, crouched on one knee.
The same fiery-haired, ethereal beauty that once terrified Percy seemed so tiny under the sky. It was a cruel sight, to see a girl that appeared so young holding up the thing. One slim arm held more strength than Percy's entire body, yet she shuddered as hands smaller than his own fought to gain purchase on the very air itself. The silver glow that always seemed to follow the fair-skinned goddess was almost completely diminished. Her thin eyebrows were scrunched so hard together they could crack a pencil. Perspiration dripped down Artemis' face. Seeing the maiden goddess in such a vulnerable state would normally be a death sentence. Well, for a male like him anyway.
One shall be lost in the land with out rain
Lost. Percy knew the feeling. Hadn't he felt the same when Bianca had been killed in Hephaestus' junkyard? The slip of a girl had barely been a huntress for a week, and several years his junior. For Olympus' sake she was still learning to shoot a bow! Her hapless younger brother was basically still a toddler by demigod terms. Percy could still feel that crippling helplessness as he watched the Talus' massive bronze foot come down to flatten the girl. She had been so petrified that she hadn't even dodged, and the image had haunted his dreams ever since. Percy had traveled through the underworld, faced down Ares in single combat, crossed the Sea of Monsters, and yet he had never felt so guilty as he did driving out of the desert that day. Just another promise broken.
A thunderclap preceded a feminine cry of pain, jarring Percy out of his memories. A glance over towards Thalia showed the daughter of Zeus sporting a new bruise on one cheek, yet her electric blue eyes were full of nothing but anger. Standing across from her, panting and equally as worse for wear, was Luke. The traitorous son of Hermes seemed gaunt, but his grip on his sword was deceptively strong. When he had first appeared at Kronos' side, the tall blond had given the impression of a soul stretched too thin to fill his body completely. Still, he seemed to be holding his own against Percy's cousin. A dirtier patch of straw-colored hair in the background stirred, evidence that Annabeth was still working up the strength to stand.
Now was no time to wallow. Get your head in the game!
The son of Poseidon struggled to one knee, searching from his sword. Riptide was nowhere to be found, not close enough to matter anyway. Not enough time had passed yet for it to have returned to his pocket, either. The weapon had spun out of his grip when Atlas had hit his chest with a forearm, flying away as if struck by a truck. Percy's ribs certainly felt that way.
There was an explosion of dust from across the room, just a gray haze through the bend of the sky. Percy spun around, twisting helplessly without a weapon. The floor shuddered, and Atlas laughed again. This time Percy could almost make out his egotistical jeering.
"Zoë!" Artemis cried out, her voice hoarse. The goddess could see something the son of Poseidon could not. Her face was desperate, body leaning towards the action as if trying to intervene through sheer will.
The band of Olympus shows the trail, campers and hunters combined prevail
Was the prophecy mocking them? There seemed to be no path to victory here. Percy was on his feet now, unsteady and unsure what to do. Were the fates so cruel? No sword, no water to heal his injuries, and no allies coming. Instead it was the exact opposite. The son of Poseidon had seen the cruise ship housing Kronos' army docking in San Francisco just before entering the throne room. Surely they would arrive any minute, though Percy wasn't sure the fight would last that long.
Around them, the stronghold walls only grew higher and higher. The heart of the Titan's power, from an objective standpoint, was slowly returning to something of grand visual opulence. Percy would have had a hard time comprehending if he had never seen Olympus. It was simply too rich, too detailed, too large for mortal eyes. The rebuilding throne room seemed to be the natural antithesis of the Olympians' own seat of power. Still just as Greek, with the columns and decorative carvings, but all black instead of white and silver instead of gold. A domed ceiling was stitching itself back together overhead, the dark stone somehow just transparent enough to still see the stars that felt just out of reach.
The rest of Mount Othrys had to have been almost fully constructed at this point - the perfect place for the Titans to bring death to Olympus. To rain destruction on the Gods and those loyal to them. On his friends. His mother. Against the army Percy had seen earlier, with Atlas at their head, would they stand a real chance? Far past the edges of the cliffs, the hopeful twinkling lights of San Fancisco were a literal world away. Percy, for not the first time, envied the innocence of mortals.
One shall parish by a parent's hand
It was that last line of the prophecy that had garnered so much attention at camp, so much so the line before it was almost overlooked. Chiron had seemed especially grim that day, weighted down by the cruel fate of his past charges. Someone was going to die on the quest. It was unavoidable. Still, Percy had always been an optimistic person. Not stupid, but the young man had found ways to twist prophecy before.
As Percy watched a bleeding Zoë backpedal from another earth-crushing blow, it was clear that the Oracle would receive her due this time around. The girl was panting, unsteady on her feet. Percy's companion was simply too outmatched. One arm hung limply in the girl's leather huntress uniform, and her chin was dripping blood the same color as her goddess' hair. No matter how well-trained, the blessing of Artemis didn't make her a match for her father. Still, she let out a savage cry and went on the offensive once again. Atlas met her eagerly.
The Titans curse must one withstand
It was that second to last line that was rotating over and over in Percy's head. The voice of the Oracle seemed to get louder with each revolution. What was the point? Prophecies were supposed to guide quests. How then did it seem already fulfilled?
Percy couldn't figure it out. It had to be Annabeth, right? The boy couldn't locate her now, lost somewhere on the other side of Thalia's lightning, but they had all seen the new gray streak in her hair. Percy would have to be blind to not notice the way his best friend's shoulders drooped and her knees buckled, as if aged a dozen years in the span of a couple of weeks. Luke had at least seemed apologetic when he appeared with her in chains, but everything coming from the disloyal son of Hermes' was a lie at this point.
The Titans curse must one withstand
Percy turned back to Artemis, the world moving in slow motion. The sky had fallen an inch lower since he had last looked. The thing was solid like earth and yet fluid like sand, warping and twisting in its desperation to touch the floor. That would spell death for them and probably all of the mortal world, but Artemis seemed almost willing to drop it to save her lieutenant.
Must ONE withstand
Annabeth had 'withstood' it already, but Percy didn't know if that counted. Was this the right answer, or was he completely off-base? Percy had but one last desperate card to play. Would it doom them all? He wished he knew.
Through the impossible bend of the sky, over the view of mountains small as toothpicks and seas stretched out like quilting squares, Percy watched Atlas catch his daughter with another barehanded strike. Zoë tumbled once more, this time towards the edge of the room. The walls still weren't fully rebuilt, and the girl skipped across stone to the sheer edge of the cliff outside.
Artemis cried out. Percy didn't have a choice.
With a snap, the world rushed back into real time. Percy's hearing returned fully, his vision and mind clear in a way only a demigod would understand. The son of Poseidon took in the battle situation in an instant. Thalia was almost frothing at the mouth, grunting with exertion as her spear clashed loudly with Luke's sword. Annabeth's voice was present as well, somewhere. It seems she had joined the fight in some capacity. Good. The lowering sky had begun to stir the air in the room into a wild frenzy, the gale growing in strength each centimeter it dipped closer to the Earth. Percy's black hair whipped him in the face repeatedly as he stumbled into a run towards the center of the room. Dust raised from the fight stung his sea-green eyes.
The teen may have said something smooth as he slid on his knees next to the panting maiden goddess. Percy didn't remember, but he did recall the absolutely shocked face of Artemis turning to deny his request. Never had the glare of a twelve year old been so cowing, but Percy was deaf to the goddess' words. The only thing he cared about was the view of Atlas stalking over to the defeated body of Zoë at the cliff's edge behind Artemis' bowed shoulders.
"Give it to me! Please!" His voice was hoarse from yelling. "Save her! Save us!" The demigod held out his hands, pleading.
Artemis seemed to deliberate for a short eternity, long enough for Atlas to reach his daughter. The ancient general planted a massive shoe on the girl's chest. With barely any effort, he had her screaming out in pain.
Artemis' being hardened, her face shining the endless fury only the immortal were capable of displaying. "I will return." Her silver eyes bored into Percy's sea-green orbs.
"You better," he smirked back.
Then, with a mighty heave, Artemis was streaking across the space and all Percy knew was pain.
Percy understood that bearing the weight of the heavens was an almost impossible task. Even Atlas, the Titan he was, struggled with the burden every moment for millennia. It was the entire sky, for Hades' sake. It wasn't as he was placed there for a vacation after leading the rebellion against Olympus in the first Titanomachy. It was the cruelest punishment Zeus could come up with for one of the strongest descendants of the Primordials themselves. It was never meant for mortal hands. So, Percy knew it would be heavy.
He was wrong.
The burden wasn't just 'heavy'. Describing it as weighty would be like calling an atom small. The word was so wholly inadequate to describe the sheer scale of shouldering the very firmament described by humans since the invention of language. It was sheer pressure, a hundred billion pounds concentrated into a single point, all waiting only for you to slip up once. Space and time and energy bent between his shoulder blades, the universe condensed down to a needle driving into his back. Dropping it would be akin to summoning a second meteor like the one that killed the dinosaurs.
The Burden became everything to Percy when he took it from Artemis. Every thought, every moment, every muscle fiber in his body was devoted to simply holding it in place. Each second was a battle of finger placement, arm strength, and sheer will. The thing was alive, and it wanted him to fail. The sky thrashed in his hands like a caged animal. Percy felt like an ant trying to hold back an elephant. A single mistake would mean certain doom.
Percy's vision grayed out, his hearing reduced to a shrill keening. Every fiber of his being screamed out in protest. The demigod's veins filled with fire. It dripped down his face, stained his skin, invaded his mind. He probably screamed, if he made any sound at all.
One blink, and Atlas had been forced back from the edge of the cliff. Zoë's still form didn't move. Percy felt his shoulders melting.
Another blink, and Thalia was mid-air, spear and shield crashing down against Atlas' exposed back. Artemis was wielding a bow of pure moonlight, one that left an afterimage against the back of Percy's eyelids. Luke was nowhere to be found, and Percy finally spotted Annabeth in the background, looking stronger than before and gripping Zoë's lost knife. The son of Poseidon allowed himself to feel some hope even as his skin vibrated from his bones.
A third blink, and the hope was gone again. Thalia was slumped against the far wall, celestial armament scattered to either side. Her striking blond hair was matted with red, her features hazy with an obvious concussion. Annabeth knelt over the older girl, face panicked in a way Percy had never seen. Atlas had pulled a giant weapon from somewhere, a shining javelin longer than Percy was tall. Artemis, now alone, was on the back foot. Percy's knee was driving so hard into the ground that everything below his waist was numb and everything above was pain.
A fourth blink, and it was over. Percy watched, unable to move or breathe as Artemis stood, slumped in defeat. Her fingers were held up in a snapping motion, even as an enraged Atlas had drawn back his weapon to strike. There was an endless regret on the goddess' face, eyes staring directly at him.
Blink.
They were gone.
Artemis, Annabeth, and Thalia. The room was silent for a long moment, broken only by Percy's pained exhalations. Atlas stood alone, his face triumphant. Thalia's spear and shield remained, discarded in one corner as the fortress walls built ever higher. The goddess' retreat had even left the corpse of her lieutenant behind. Percy couldn't bear the sight of her unmoving slump just outside. The weight of that betrayal was almost as crushing as the sky itself.
As if offended by his mental comparison, the thing decided to redouble his pain. Percy definitely screamed this time, and the world blackened. Those first few minutes alone under The Burden seemed to last an eternity. Righting the weight demanded everything he had to give and more.
When his vision eventually returned, Percy watched Luke stumble into view. The older boy was bruised, but certainly not dead. He and Atlas exchanged a few words before the son of Hermes limped over to Thalia's abandoned weapon. He gingerly picked them up and carted them out of the room.
Atlas left next, meandering through a newly-formed archway and out towards the body of his daughter. As Percy watched the ancient general nonchalantly shove Zoë's form off the edge of the cliff, the two-time hero of Olympus almost gave in to despair. His other jean-clad knee hit the floor, the weight of the sky forcing Percy into the ultimate position of kneeling supplication. The boy's head bent low towards his chest, a couple of bitter tears slipping from his eyes for the fate of his friend. For that moment, Percy's soul balanced on a knife's edge.
It was only when he pictured his mother - dear, sweet Sally Jackson - that Percy found the strength to continue. He held the image in his mind, her kind eyes and round face the only enduring thought not wiped away by grief and pain. It was her love, and his love for his mother, that saved everything that day.
Percy didn't know it, but his outpouring of emotion stirred something. His was a love pure enough to let a mortal bear the impossible, and that was a powerful thing indeed. Something monumental shifted, out there in the universe where he couldn't see it. Things that never should change did, though all of the ramifications wouldn't be felt for years to come. Still, through the image of his mother, the son of Poseidon found the strength to endure.
The sky raised but a hair's breadth.
The fifteen year old was forced to pull himself from his emotions when The Burden, displeased with his newfound willpower, shifted towards his left side. It took every iota of strength Percy possessed, and some he didn't know he had, to right its position once again. Sweat dripped down his face, staining his collar and armpits. With the bend in reality this close to his face, it was like Percy could see the surface of the Earth refracted over itself so that no matter where he looked he was forced to see everything all at once. It was too much information for any mortal mind to process, so Percy simply ignored it as best he could until the weight on his back stabilized again.
Each blink, when Percy realized he could again, lasted an age and almost no time at all. How long had passed since the fight had ended? Percy didn't know. It felt like he had only blinked one more time and suddenly the massive throne room was fully rebuilt.
The bottom of the sky sat at the center of a great sunken area just in front of the yet unused throne of Kronos, ringed with steps on all sides. Great columns branched out past the steps in every direction, holding up that domed roof that would have made the goddess of architecture herself envious. Light seemed to imbue the space, but it wasn't bright enough to chase away the long shadows that hid behind the columns and clung to the corners. At the head of the room sat the great throne, dark as night and ringed with human skulls.
Percy recognized the room for what it was. It was a classic Greek theater, and Percy was the only actor on the stage. Somehow, when he wasn't looking, the seats surrounding his position had filled end to end with monsters and demigods all glaring right at him. Snarling snake-like empusas and misshapen hellhounds were the most familiar of the bunch to Percy, but there were far more creatures than he could even name. Interspersed among them were armored human forms, all geared up for war and bearing the sigil of Kronos.
Atlas, the undying Titan general, was crouched on the balls of his feet just a foot away. This close, the unearthly nature of his features was more evident than ever before. Jaw too square, eyes too far apart, teeth too white to be human. Even squatted down to the demigod's level, he was almost twice as tall as Percy. Each bicep was thicker around than a tree trunk.
"Hello, Perseus Jackson." Percy thought he heard Atlas say, pulling out his name like tearing off a strip of meat. It was hard to make anything out through the wailing in his head, and the demigod had never been good at reading lips.
"See this?" The Titan continued, reaching out and yanking harshly on Percy's scalp. The demigod grunted but didn't dare move, even as a hand larger than his head craned his neck around so far his neck popped. Still, the demigod caught sight of what Altas was moving his head to see. Caught between the Titan's thick finger and thumb was a curled streak of ashen gray. Percy's hair.
"Your whole head looks like this, now. Older than your old man. Oh, how precious." Atlas cooed with fake sincerity. "You'll be dead within the day, I fear. And your weakness will doom all those pitiful mortals down below." The general's dark eyes dripped with sadistic satisfaction. "Enjoy it. I know I will." Percy could only wince, head snapping back into place as Atlas became bored with his taunting and retracted his hand.
"Bite me." Percy's first words since taking the Burden were barely a strained whisper.
Atlas sneered, the façade of humor gone. "I will cherish your demise greatly, demigod." He spat the last word like a slur. Like a snake, one of the Titan's massive hands snapped out to backhand Percy's cheek. Stars exploded across his vision and reignited the keening in his ears. The bottom of the sky tiled dangerously to one side, and Percy groaned with the excruciating effort of righting it again. It took him several moments to remember to breathe through the pain.
The crowd tittered. Atlas wiped his hand on his suit jacket with the same motions one would after touching something dirty.
Naively, Percy wondered why Atlas hadn't just offed him yet. Thalia was still the eldest child of The Big Three - what was he even worth anymore? With the demigod in this position even a child could have done it. A single shove, one moment without concentration and the sky would surely fall and crush him. Did Atlas not understand how Percy's arms screamed out, how a thousand knives stabbed every inch of his skin? Did the Titan not see how the impossible thing bucked in his palms, slipped through the gaps in his fingers, bored through his spine?
But then, Atlas gave that same twisted smile and it clicked in Percy's head. The Titan did understand. Now it made sense why the army of monsters hadn't simply impaled him and been done with it. That would have been a mercy, and Atlas was not known for being kind.
The general stood and turned around, speaking grandly to the gathered spectators. Percy tuned him out as best he could. As much as he hated it, Atlas was right. His weakness would spell doom for all that he cared for. All the people he loved.
Atlas would soon learn that Perseus Jackson was anything but weak.
As the son of Poseidon struggled with The Burden that should have been his, Atlas gleefully spread his arms wide and shouted to the mass of creatures. Swords were banged against shields, fangs and claws bared for action. The unholy army started cheering, laughing at Percy as Atlas led them triumphantly from the room. Many got close enough to the demigod, but none dared touch him as their leader had. The risk of causing Percy to drop the sky and flatten them was too great for the weaker willed soldiers of the Titan general. Instead, some decided to spit on his face, enough for the stuff to run down his cheeks and drip from his chin in slimy trails. The sunken dais beneath Percy's feet was dark with his sweat and their vitriol.
As the last of the monsters left the room, there was only one who stayed behind. The blond-haired son of Hermes that Percy had fought several times before lurked in the shadows behind the throne. He had changed into a new set of armor, this one grander and sturdier than the last. His dark sword was strapped to his side, but it was the sight of Thalia's Aegis shield on the boy's arm that boiled Percy's blood. Luke's eyes were dark, face shrouded in what might have been regret.
For a moment, Percy hoped he would have a change of heart. Instead, the older demigod turned and walked out, leaving Percy alone.
Alone with The Burden.