Fair warning, this chapter gets pretty dark.

Percy woke with a ragged gasp, Riptide already in hand to slay the creature haunting him. It took a few moments to realize he was alone rather than being chased through dark trees whose roots wished to sip his blood like rain. Always with the dreams, he thought tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his left hand. He wasn't sure what he'd done in a previous life to piss off Morpheus, but he hoped he'd at least enjoyed it.

He opened his pod and slid out, closing it behind him. When he'd first seen it, he'd been struck by how out of place it looked. The thin, curved pane of sea glass was stronger than it looked, but the steel edges would have seemed futuristic had it not been for the delicate engravings of silver waves that gave it a timeless appearance.

It wasn't until he was halfway through his ablutions that he remembered what today was; the meeting with Hecate would likely set a tone for the petitions to the remaining minor gods, not to mention how she stood head and shoulders above most of the others. Don't mess this up, he sternly told his reflection as he finished dressing.

He'd donned his crown, which bore alternating blue and black running spirals, jeans, and a plain white shirt. The lack of orange made his chest ache with a feeling of wrongness, reminding him that he no longer fought on Camp Half-Blood's behalf. The brand on his arm, spelling SPQR in blocky letters, was paltry comfort. Still, he preferred it to his fellow demigods fighting yet another war. Neither his dad nor Zeus had made any movement to enlist the half-bloods, and Percy was thankful for it, even if loneliness accompanied his gratitude.

The feeling only increased when he left his cabin and was met with the sight of merpeople clad in breastplates or bare-chested or wearing shortened tunics. What the difference was between a shortened tunic and a tee was a mystery to Percy, but it hadn't seemed important enough at the time to ask. He was glad he hadn't; the musing kept his mind off the weight resting on his shoulders, seeking to drag him down to the lakebed as he made his way to high command.

The two half-globes resting on the ornate seastone table greeted him as he passed the guards- Xanthus and Alexander- floating outside. Poseidon and Triton were engaged in deep discussion already. The messenger god of the seas, clad in his pearl-studded breastplate, looked displeased but thoughtful. Poseidon's salmon-colored and speckled shirt rippled as the god gestured at various points in the recreation of North America.

"-too close to the coast," his dad said. Triton nodded and opened his mouth to respond when he caught sight of Percy and sneered instead. Poseidon followed his son's gaze and smiled faintly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his tan cargo shorts. "Good morning, Percy."

"Morning," he replied, trying not to grimace.

His half-brother nodded sharply, but before last night the god would have bit out an insult, only barely restrained due to their dad's presence, so the demigod would happily take the silent acknowledgement.

Percy swam closer to peer at the detailed representation of the Northern Hemisphere. Five points were illuminated in glowing blue, pulsing softly like a heartbeat; one in Africa, just below the Aegean Sea; another in California, near the Pacific but not at the shoreline; a third bordered the Atlantic, south of New York; another was centered near perfectly in the center of the U.S., though a tad further west; the last was to the north-east, in Canada. The sight of the last one tickled the back of Percy's brain, like a memory just out of reach.

"What's up?" he asked, nodding at the halved sphere.

"Planning our next steps. Divine warfare bears many similarities to its mortal counterpart, save that our strongholds, and soldiers, hold much greater import. These," the god continued with wave of his hand, "are my brother's."

Percy took a closer look at lights, winking at him secretively, and a voice that sounded like Jason's whispered in his head. "The Winds, and their Master."

"Indeed," assented Poseidon. "Olympus is, at present, too well-defended to assault. We've taken a foothold on land, and now we need to reach for the sky."

"We don't need to take them, just destroy them," interjected Triton.

"If we lay waste to them, they'll be of no use to. Better to take them and keep them then ruin them," replied the sea god confidently.

"They seem pretty vulnerable, considering they're in Ol' Thunder Thigh's domain."

Nodding, though he appeared grieved to be in agreement with Percy even as his lips twitched at the corners, Triton continued, "Even should the Winds fall, if their seats of power remain, replacements may be appointed in their stead."

"First, my brother must take them back from us, and he will pay most dearly for every step," Poseidon answered, looking unconcerned.

Percy tilted his thoughtfully. His dad wasn't careless; unrestrained, certainly, but not thoughtless. "What are you planning on using them for?"

Smiling the shark's grin that set Percy's teeth on edge, Poseidon answered, "Vantage points, and then, when my brother and his children come, as traps."

"I see," murmured Triton. "A risky gambit. We can ill-afford significant loss, which will be difficult, if not impossible to avoid when fighting in the sky. Perhaps we ought to consolidate the remaining leylines before we turn our gaze upwards."

"That depends on the means with which we ambush them," Poseidon said, tapping his fingers against the marble table like war drums. "I believe, with Hecate's assistance, that we will face little peril."

"Right," replied Percy with nod, though his fist clenched and unclenched, aching for the comforting weight of Riptide. "Of course. Any last-minute advice?"

Triton opened his mouth to respond, but Poseidon spoke first. "Brace yourself."

I bet you think you're real funny. "Gee, thanks."

"You're most welcome."

"Perhaps," interrupted the messenger god of the seas, "we should begin with the North Wind? The West is in thrall to love's child, so attacking him might end her neutrality, while the East and South are softer targets. To start with Aeolia would be… ambitious."

Poseidon stroked his crined chin thoughtfully. It had been growing recently, Percy noticed, and at a far faster rate than beards normally did, stretching past the god's chest to his collarbones. He wasn't sure why, or what meaning it held, but he was certain it meant something. "I believe that we ought to make overtures to the winged archer before we come to a decision; if he is agreeable, we may be able to deal with the other Winds in one blow by striking at their Master."

"The West's aid would be a boon; do you believe the Breeze can be turned in our favor?" asked Triton.

The god of the sea shook his head. "Doubtful. She is not like to raise up arms, not matter how fond she is of beaches."

"What about the North Wind's daughter?" suggested Percy, pushing down the bitter rage that surged at the thought of her. If it hadn't been for her, how more time would we have had before Gaea awoke? Would Zeus still have closed Olympus? Still, enemy of my enemy and all that.

"She of snow and ice might be amenable to negotiations," Triton answered, glaring coldly at Poseidon, who frowned, "but her father imprisoned her for her actions in the Second Gigantomachy."

"Sounds like she'd be pretty motivated to get revenge, then. She doesn't have a grudge against any of the sea gods, does she?"

"No," Poseidon snapped before the messenger god of the sea could spit venom from his sneering lips. "She may owe her divinity in part to the sun god as well as me, but it was his silver sister's arrow that forced our hands to save her from the consequences of hubris." Hang on, what?

Percy looked between the two, his half-brother unrepentant in the face of Poseidon's stony displeasure. Realization struck, then. "Really, dad? Wait, never mind," I really don't need the details, "unless she's liable to stab an icicle in our backs, I'd rather not know. Seems like another point in favor heading North first."

"Assaulting one of the Winds will alert their Master to the threat, and surprise will be key. I strongly counsel against doing so- she is not nearly powerful enough to be worth warning Olympus of our plans, and she can be bargained with after Aeolia has fallen. Our leverage will be that much greater with her father already disposed of," Poseidon argued.

After a considering moment, Percy agreed, "Right, okay, makes sense." He'd had much practice recognizing a wiser strategy when he heard one, though the thought of it sent a harsh pang rippling out from his chest like a stone thrown in a peaceful lake. Forcing his mind back to the present, he realized what he'd missed. "Wait, where's Kym?"

Poseidon and Triton shared a look, causing the retracting tendrils of pain in his heart to reach out once more, rotting into fingers of dread. Conspiracies amongst gods boded ill.

"She's otherwise occupied, at present," answered Poseidon cryptically in a dismissive way clearly meant to be reassuring.

Percy wasn't comforted, and made to press for answers when Triton spoke. "Perhaps you should pay more focus to your own task than others', Perseus."

"Speaking of," he said, as though the two gods weren't obviously keeping a secret, "can I hitch a ride? Unless there's a cornerstone I don't know about, an old-fashioned road trip will take a while."

Poseidon hummed and nodded. "Of course. In any case, the remaining leylines should be avoided until they can be properly scouted. My brother," he continued with a cruel-humored grin, "does not take failure well, and will no doubt go to unnecessary lengths in his futile pursuit to avoid another defeat."

"All aboard the Poseidon Express," muttered Percy as he turned back to the globe, eyes narrowing on the tiny section of the storm-ridden half-globe where New Orleans laid in wait. Where he thought New Orleans was, at least; geography had never been his best subject, not unless he was at sea.

Raising a dark eyebrow beneath the lures dangling from his hat, Poseidon replied, "Do you have your ticket?"

"What?" After a moment, Percy remembered the laurel leaf and almost pulled it out before his dad's warning to keep it hidden echoed in his mind. "Yeah, I've got it."

"Good. Triton, you're dismissed."

The god dipped his head. "Father." Then he turned and swam away, tails undulating like twin serpents, shimmering green like kelp-ridden shallows.

"You will not disappoint me," Poseidon told Percy warmly, though he couldn't decide whether it was a testament of his dad's faith or a command.

Probably both, he thought grimly. "So, when are we doing this?"

"I'll call for you after your meditations."

"Alright," Percy assented with a grimace, and took that as his cue to get going. "Dad," he said in closing, inclining his head and taking his leave.

He swam out past the throngs of merpeople, paying little mind to the green and blue and silver and gold glints of their fishtails, past the pearl-studded, lattice dome that shown with the cornerstone's power, and through the outer gates into the open depths of the lake. Around him, the fish darted away to watch him in wary fascination at a safe distance. He missed when marine life sought him out to free their friends from nets or simply to chat. It had been occasionally irritating, but better than cowering.

It was in a dark corner of the lake where the brilliant lights of the cornerstone's power barely reached that he let himself to sink to the silty ground, his arms leaning on crossed legs. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the urge to move, the urge to get up and do something, anything.

Misery, he chided himself. Poison. Just saying their names was enough to evoke them; a wave of hopelessness built in his chest, while nightshade sprouted in front of him, purple blossoms swaying in the soft currents. This wasn't about wielding them, though- that's what training was for. He meditated to know them, to feel their sharp edges and stinging barbs.

Ducking a beer can that exploded against the wall, dripping onto the floor like blood; air that withered his skin and flayed his lungs, soothed only by liquid fire; rows of shrouds set ablaze over friends and brothers in arms; helplessness, hopelessness, unsated hunger, and loss.

He forced himself to not cringe away from the memories and feelings. 'Embrace it as you embrace the sea,' his father had said. Sure, let me just give Misery a nice, warm hug, he thought bitterly, and pushed deeper into his domains.

Every mote of his being was choking, crying out for air or water or any kind of relief as cyanide tainted apple seeds spewed from his mouth and fell from his eyes like tears; obsidian veins, withering and burning from his palm to his arm and through the rest of him; a glowing, verdant stream curling around his ankles as he fell to his knees, gasping for air; slow and quick and painful and peaceful.

The visions started to blur together, until he couldn't tell where misery ended and poison began. All his recollections were his own: 'Master your domains, or they will master you,' Poseidon had warned, so Percy grit his teeth and clenched his fists and greeted suffering like an old friend. Eventually, he even started to enjoy it as much as he hated it.

After both too long and too short a time, his father's voice whispered in his head, dimmed by horror and revel. 'Come, Percy. Let us depart.'

He sagged, allowing himself to float upwards. There weren't any fish around, but there were a dozen plants surrounding him like worshippers before an altar. He waved his hand and they vanished, as if in fear of angering their god with their presence. Something like loss echoed through Percy at their absence, and he felt the absurd urge to apologize. The journey was short, though the water brushing against his skin felt less soothing than it once was.

Through the domes and their gates he swam, passing merpeople who seemed to unconsciously give him distance. He couldn't blame them. It was a relief when he left the crowds behind to meet his dad at high command, mercifully alone; if Percy had to deal with more snark from Triton, he'd shove his half-brother's trident somewhere unpleasant.

"Percy," greeted Poseidon. "You look well."

He felt well. And awful. "Hey," he said wanly.

"We'll be arriving in the Mississippi River. Hecate's mansion is only a couple blocks away."

Percy breathed in, out, and steeled himself. "Let's go get ourselves a witch. Yeah, yeah," he continued at his dad's sharp gaze, "don't call her that. I did, in fact, pay attention to Aberkios, even if he made it difficult."

"Good."

Then Poseidon gripped his shoulder in a semblance of fatherly affection, glowing brighter and brighter. Percy closed his eyes before he could see his dad's true form, and when he opened them, they were still underwater, though in significantly murkier waters. He followed his dad upwards, wading out of the shallows and walking up a small dock. In front of them, he could see a park past the train tracks and street, behind which stood a pale gothic building that resembled a castle.

The pair walked through crowds of tourists unobstructed, each mortal stepping out of the way without making eye contact or appearing to notice them as they chatted and took pictures and strolled through Jackson Square. Poseidon led Percy to the circular center of the park, where four stone paths centered around a statue of a man on the horse. There was a small garden around the statue, with bushes and posies and little white perennials standing in rings around it.

"Hecate likes to keep her secrets hidden and visitors waiting. Give it some time and a crossroads will appear. Be patient, as it may take some time for her to permit you to-"

"Like that?" Percy asked, gesturing at one of the walkways, which didn't reach the outer circle of the park, instead splitting at the end in two. It was incongruous with the others, which quartered the circuit, and rather than dirtied gray, the bricks were a deep purple, with a pulsing inner light. Not exactly subtle. Definitely godly.

Brow furrowed, Poseidon's gaze searched the grass, green speckled with dying yellow. "I see nothing."

"Well, there's definitely a crossroads there."

"I see," the god said thoughtfully, rubbing his beard, "or I don't, but I believe I understand. We'll discuss it later," he said in answer to Percy's unasked question. "Very well. This is where I leave you. I'll await you in the river, as it would be best to avoid undue attention. Good luck."

With that final bit of encouragement, Poseidon strode back the way they'd came, out of the park and out of sight.

"Here goes nothing." He stepped onto the brick path and made his way to the end, where it diverged. "Left or right, left or right, left or right."

"Percy?" someone called.

He jumped a little in surprise and followed the voice to a familiar face. "Superman? What are you doing here?"

The son of Jupiter approached, clad in a regal toga, ironed perfectly and trimmed with gold, accompanied by a gilded sash and belt. "Same as you, I suppose."

"Ah. Awkward."

"Just a tad," Jason said coolly, the wind fluttering his blonde hair.

"I thought demigods were staying out of this."

The other half-blood shrugged. "Lord Jupiter decided to send the Pontifex Maximus to speak with the Lady of the Mist. Make sure she remains loyal to Olympus."

Percy winced as thunder rumbled in the darkening sky. "Right." There was a beat of silence. Man, this is worse than after Kansas. "Good talk. Well, I'm actually just checking in with Hecate for my monthly reading. Make sure my horoscope isn't, uh, in retrograde."

Jason sighed heavily. "That's not how astrology works."

"See? This is why I don't read my own fortune."

"Unbelievable," the Pontifex Maximus spat, stalking forward until he stood right in front of Percy, a foot away from the purple bricks. "Do you have any idea how many have died because you didn't turn yourself in?"

The son of Poseidon bristled. "Yeah? And who sent them to the Underworld? Not me, that's for damn sure." But they might still be alive if I wasn't.

"Were two wars not enough? You just had to go for a third?"

"Two wars that I fought for Olympus. If Ze- if your dad wants my head, then he can go fuck himself with his precious bolt. Which, you know, he wouldn't have without me."

Jason shook his head, pity in his eyes. "Stand down, Percy. Convince your father to kneel, give yourself up, and let the world enjoy some peace for once."

"How about you talk your dad into leaving me alone so we don't have to kick his ass?" My dad can totally beat up your dad, he thought with only the barest trace of irony.

"Is any single life really worth this? I'm not talking hundreds or thousands, Percy. Millions are dead. Entire cities are just gone. I don't like this, I hate it, actually, but the law is the law for a reason. You could end all of this. Please," he asked, sounding tired, "just stop this."

Percy looked at him coldly. "I didn't start this. Your dad is welcome to call it quits anytime." He turned left and walked off the path, but instead of stepping onto the grass, his foot landed on lush, deep violet carpet.

Torches flickered in pairs down the hallway, casting long, dancing shadows. The sound of crackling flames was ominous, but Percy had faced quite a bit worse than a haunted house. Chittering echoed down the hall, and after a moment some kind of ferret- no, polecat, he knew from listening to Hazel- rounded the corner to stare at Percy.

He stared back at it. "Hello?" It chirruped at him, then turned round and ran off. "Or not. Hey, Hecate, please don't try to smite me just because you forgot to lock your front door," said Percy to the ceiling.

As he stepped and looked forward, he thought, Speak of the witch. He paused. Very glad I didn't say that out loud. Before him stood a beautiful woman with skin pale as alabaster wearing a long, crimson chiton that seemed to melt into the darkness around her, wrapped with a serpent that stretched to coil around her shoulders. Atop her ebony locks rested a bronze crown, with crescent moon turned up at the peak. To her left, a black labrador snarled at him silently.

"Hi, there."

"Perseus Jackson."

He found himself forgetting every bit of etiquette Aberkios had tried to pound into his skull with each monotonous lecture. "What's up?"

"My front door is never unlocked, because no door can grant entry to this place. I built it with my own magic, wove into existence with my will, and no one crosses the threshold except with my permission. Until now."

"My apologies. Lady Hecate," he added. Titles are respectful. As he was still scrambling to remember what else was considered respectful, he figured he should hedge his bets. A memory came back, then. "Oh, and sorry about Circe. In my defense, though, she turned me into a guinea pig. Unprovoked." You idiot, his voice of reason told him sternly, sounding rusty from disuse. You could have phrased that so much better.

She smiled. It was not a nice smile. It was dark and cruel and far too similar to Kym's to be comforting. "I believe we need one more before we can begin." With a wave of her hand, Jason stumbled out of the wall behind Percy, and would have smacked into him had he not jumped to the side. "There. Follow me."

Jason and Percy glared at each other, then followed the retreating form of the goddess.

"It's a nice house. Very nice," Percy tried when they'd caught up. It took a bit of effort to ignore the bust of a screaming man, flesh dripping off his face like wax, but he managed.

"Very dignified. And intimidating," said Jason, who was eyeing the portrait of an exhumed grave between two torches.

"If I wanted flattery, I would go to someone with cleverer tongues than either of you." Her voice was velvet soft but deep, and seemed to fill the room they'd entered without effort.

There was a patch of stone amidst the royal purple carpet, bordered by a Victorian writing table laden with books and a few scrolls. In lieu of a fireplace, an ash tree rested against the wall, with fire for leaves. In front of it was a highbacked chair of amethyst leather, with ivory snakes carved into circular armrests that coiled around the back, which sat opposite a plain, wooden bench. She lowered herself into the chair, fingers stroking the carved serpent while the one around her shoulders hissed and shifted.

Percy and Jason sat on the bench. It was uncomfortable in way that suggested it had been intentionally designed so; the two slats of the bench were ever so slightly tilted and concave, while the back of it was angled to dig into the occupants' spine.

"For thousands of years after I turned against my own family," she began, "I was forgotten, disdained. The honor due to me for my service, both in the war and for veiling our world from the mortals, remained unpaid. Now, two of Kronos' sons have sent their own scions to compete for my favor. Forgive me if I savor the moment," she said, looking entirely unrepentant.

Jason replied first, smooth as a politician. "Lady Hecate, my father recognized the gravity of his mistakes, and has made every effort to correct them. No more gods will be more forgotten. Certainly not one such as you. I will ensure such myself. In fact, I do have some matters to discuss regarding the temple to Trivia, when you have a moment to spare."

You sneaky bag of hot air. Straight to bribery- don't have much faith she's loyal to Olympus, do you? "Did he?"

"What?" asked Jason.

"Did your dad actually realize that he'd messed up? I seem to recall an oath on the Styx that says otherwise."

The son of Jupiter inclined his head to Percy before turning back to the goddess. "Percy may have inspired the change, but it was at my father's command that it was carried out, beyond merely the building of a cabin."

"A wrangled promise is a tad more than just 'inspiration'."

"Enough," interrupted Hecate. "I did not grant you an audience to listen to your bickering. The past is the past. My interest strays towards the future."

Jason bowed while sitting. "Of course. My father means for both camps to participate in deipnon, the offering of the evening meal on the new moon, as well as instate a new festival on July 18th, to celebrate your defeat of Clytius and honor your aid in closing the Doors of Death.

"We've already begun renovations to your temple to Trivia. Also, after some discussion with a few of your children, I believe that building an academy devoted to the study of the Mist would be most beneficial. If you have other requests, though, I'd be happy to hear them." That… that sounds like a lot. And I've got a leaf. A fucking leaf. Dad, I'm not getting you a card for Father's Day next year.

Humming consideringly, she turned her attention to Percy.

"I'm not here to beg. Or bribe you, or whatever. I'm here to give you this," he said, pausing to reach into his back pocket and pull out the flattened laurel leaf, fingers curled around it to hide it from Jason, before holding it out to her. Eyes narrowing, she took it when he dropped it in her hand and examined it against her palm as though it held some great secret. If it did, I certainly haven't found it. "As well as promise that with our victory, Olympus will be better." This is the worst sales pitch ever. I should have gotten some tips from Crusty before killing him. A few years too late for that, now.

"How bold," she said, tone unreadable.

"Is it?" Thank Dad that means something.

Tilting her head, she studied Percy with narrowed eyes the color of emeralds. "You don't understand?"

"Not a bit."

"I see," she said, a lizard's smile on her obsidian-colored lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jason tilt his head in confusion as once-green ash fell from her hand. Oh shit. Then she laughed, high and cold, like an enemy had just fallen to their knees and begged for unattainable mercy. Percy didn't like to think about how he recognized it and focused on sliding his hand into his pocket to grip Riptide. The weight of his crown on his brow felt abnormally heavy as her gaze slid to it.

"Oh, I see indeed," she repeated once she'd calmed.

"Care to shed any light on the matter?"

"I do so enjoy lighting the way."

That clarifies nothing. If Percy had somehow forgotten he was talking to goddess, he would surely have remembered then. "Sounds great. We'd greatly appreciate your help." That was her agreeing, right?

Next to him, Jason stiffened. "Lady Hecate-"

"I've heard all I need to hear," she cut him off. "Send my regards to your father." Definitely her agreeing, thank Dad.

When the son of Jupiter stood, it was unsteady, as though he wasn't quite sure how things had gone so wrong. "You're more than welcome to speak with him yourself if there is anything else we may do to honor you as deserve."

"Yet he sent his son," she replied bitterly. "Leave, or you'll shortly find it an impossible task."

Jason bobbed his head jerkily, hands clenching at his side. "Thank you for your time, Lady Hecate." Then he strode from the room, the polecat following silently at his heel.

It wasn't until the other demigod had vanished out of sight that Percy faced Hecate again. He wasn't sure what to say. That was way too easy. "Did my dad talk to you before this?"

"No," she answered, rising from her chair. "Though, I believe I have much to discuss with him. Come, before it is too late."

"Too late for what?" Percy asked even as he followed her out of the room and into the long hallways.

"How do you imagine the god of the sky will respond when his son carries news of our meeting?"

"Probably a temper tantrum," he answered distastefully. A strand of dread spun into existence around his throat, tightening ever so slowly.

The goddess didn't laugh. "Indeed." She walked into dead end, straight through the wall, leading Percy out of the mansion and into the park once more. "Let us take our leave."

"My dad's waiting in the river."

"Good," she said, and stalked towards it, fast enough that Percy had to jog to keep up with her long strides.

It's not my fault she's a head taller than me, he groused. Six foot is pretty good for non-god. At the docks, Poseidon was waiting for them, shin-deep in the lake. He smiled when he saw them approach, looking entirely unsurprised.

"I wasn't sure I'd be seeing you," the god greeted Hecate.

"When you give such lovely gifts, how could I refuse?"

"Is this about the leaf?" Percy asked.

"No," they replied together. Great. Now there are two of them.

Above them, the sky had darkened further, filled with ominous grey clouds the color of ash, and the invisible noose around Percy's neck tightened. Hecate held out her hand palm down to him, like an old-fashioned lady waiting for a gentleman to kiss it. Hesitantly, he took it, raising an eyebrow at her. Poseidon led the two of them beneath the surface, and just as they submerged fully, both gods began to glow bright as the sun, and Percy closed his eyes.

An enormous BOOM rang out just as they vanished, sending Percy stumbling away from the two gods after they reappeared at the edge of his lake. Not mine, he thought reflexively, dimly, for his mind was on other matters.

"What was that?" he asked frantically, spinning around to face Poseidon and Hecate.

"A temper tantrum, as you called it," answered Hecate, frowning mildly. "A pity- I did rather enjoy New Orleans."

No. "We have to do something."

Poseidon stepped forward to rest his hand on his scion's shoulder in comfort. "Strongholds and soldiers, Percy. Soldiers, for without them there is no war, and strongholds, for there are few places that can be properly defended. We are far better at destroying than protecting."

"No!" Percy twisted out of the god's grip. "We don't get to condemn a whole fucking city of mortals to death. Take me back."

"Not yet," denied Poseidon. "Not yet."

"Dad, we can't just let them die."

The god of the sea sighed, and looked at him with eyes of flowing green, glowing with sympathy but absent of empathy. "Remember that their fate comes not at your hands. My brother's sins are his own."

"I'll take you, Perseus" Hecate said, plucking her torch out of thin air as she curled her fingers around his arm.

"You will not-" began Poseidon.

The goddess and demigod vanished into shadow.

They stepped out into darkness, broken only by bolts of lightning descending upon the city that split into dozens of different paths like the arms of a kraken, as well as the fires of burning buildings and Hecate's torch, which illuminated the bridge they stood on. The cracks of thunder drowned out the screaming, and Percy fell to his knees, landing on the wooded boards heavily.

The wind whipped at his air as he stared at the massacre. Will more blood fall than rain? Lightning continued to strike the city and thunder continued to rumble, an arrhythmic dance and drumbeat of divine wrath. In the distance, the mortals looked like the toy figures Percy had played with as a child, but instead of going on adventures, they were running and driving in droves away from the city as their houses and business and refuges exploded into dust and flame.

'Millions,' he recalled Jason saying. When his dad had told him of the destruction of coastal cities, he hadn't truly comprehended the vast scale of Zeus' actions. How many people live- lived- in New Orleans?

He only realized he'd asked aloud when Hecate replied, "A little over three hundred and fifty thousand."

So many. Forcing himself to his feet, Percy pulled out Riptide and began to stalk forward. A featherlight hand on his shoulder stopped him. "We- I need to do something."

"You cannot," Hecate informed him. "Already, it is too late."

She was right. It wasn't the wind causing this, and he couldn't stop the lightning. He could try to put out the fires, but water was a conductor, and the puddles from the rain were bad enough. The city looked less and less like a city, more and more like a ruin. The throngs of mortals had thinned, bodies crushed by masonry or hearts stopped by electricity or skin charred from the flames. It took him a moment to understand that the pair of them were too far away for his half-blood eyes to truly see the carnage, that his sight was the result of his domain embracing him, holding him tight and overwhelming him.

A little girl looked for her mom, panicked and so, so afraid, and she tripped on broken concrete before uncaring feet trampled over her, thrashing as the weight of the horde broke bones and mashed organs, finally stilling. A young man cradled his wife's bloodied corpse in the shell of a home, weeping until a falling wall put him out of his misery.

"Perseus."

An old woman, watching in horror from inside a car, bore witness to the place she'd been born and lived her whole life falling to pieces, sweating as the heat grew and grew around her, boiling her alive. A younger woman crawled over shards of glass which scraped and dug into legs twisted beyond recognition. A father ran back into a blazing coffee shop, which tumbled down around him, sending up clouds of ash.

"Perseus!"

He was going to die trapped beneath this statue amongst crushed flowers. He wished he was dead like his sister and mom and dad. He was all alone, he needed to find his parents, his other half, his children, his friends-

"Percy!"

Riptide was shaking. So was he, trembling like a leaf in the storm. To his horror, he realized he felt strong, better than he ever had even though his heart was breaking.

"I'm going to kill him," he declared softly, rage intertwined with each syllable.

Hecate smiled. Her dark green eyes were alight with interest, not grief or regret or righteous rage. It disgusted him.

"I don't fucking care if Zeus gets on his knees and begs for mercy. He's going to feel every ounce of Misery he's brought into this world until he'd rather jump into Chaos than live a moment longer, and then I'm going to skin him like the animal he is and force his worthless hide down his throat."

"Good," the goddess said.

She didn't spirit them back to the lake right away. Percy hated that even as shock and hate and revulsion roiled in his gut, each mote of suffering tasted sweet on his tongue and thrummed through his veins. He couldn't turn his gaze from destruction- his domain wouldn't let him. When the lightning and rain slowed to a crawl, finally relenting, only then did she pull him, almost gently, through the shadows.

As they stepped into the light of the sunset in front of peaceful water, Percy felt like a god.

He hated it as much as he hated himself.

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