Cross-posted on Fanfiction, Spacebattles, AO3

(A/N) Last chapter's prose wasn't up to standards. I'll fix it when I find time, although the priority is to progress the story. Unless I find major issues in previous writings, I will focus on producing future chapters rather than fixing/polishing older texts.

Here's the new chapter.

"Shouldn't we wait for Perce?" Rachel hopped to his left.

"Emmie?" She weaved to his right.

"I think we should wait for Perce. It's his mom." She nudged him with her hips.

His? He side-eyed her. After a moment of consideration, he decided to let the girl discover the truth for herself. Her gawking face would warm his heart. Shrugging at her inquisitive stare, he made his way down the corridor.

"Hey, are you listening?" She prodded the ringing phone held against his ear—her phone.

"Hello~ Emmie? Anyone inside?" Her knuckles rapped against his skull.

"Helllooooo~"

"Hello? Hello, hello? Anyone in there?" She ran circles around him like a giant squirrel.

"Why are we going to the kitchen? Wait, you already cleaned it?"

"Wow! Are those cookies? You made cookies? I didn't know you made cookies!"

"—Oomph…!"

Emiya returned to the phone, leaving a bewildered Rachel with a macaron dangling in her mouth. In her act of protest, the older girl chewed diligently while busying her hands with his cheeks. The device was left dialing away on the countertop as Emiya lined the blue macarons in a clean, cardboard-made, rectangular container. The baking paper crumpled delightfully with each confection laid.

"What's that for?" Rachel asked with her mouth full.

"Your friend." He sealed the box. "And they're called macarons."

"For Perce?" She licked her lips, tailing him as he assembled the remaining rainbow of meringue-based sandwich cookies onto a multilayered platter.

"Of course. It's only proper to make good impression on our guest." He sighed. "Otherwise, you'll just stay a poor child without a friend."

"Emmie!" Rachel pouted as she dived back into kneading his face with reinvigorated passion.

"Itch de trush. You've ne'er brough friensh."

"But I have you!" Rachel declared, her voice bubbling with childish defiance.

He paused for a moment, the words tugged at something from washed-out memories, from faded images of an oriental residence and a western castle. "Rashle, you can' jush…"

"But I can!" She interrupted. "I mean, a friend would be great. Actually, it would be awesome! But I have you. And that's enough!"

Turning around with fingers that refused to release his cheeks, Emiya stared into the girl's large, stupidly stubborn eyes. For a moment they blurred a ruby red. The curly, ginger hair that framed her face straightened into ivory white. On the counter, the screen of the phone darkened, signaling another failed call. He blinked. Then it was back to normal, back to those gems of emerald green. "…Shupid girl…"

The kneading of his face returned with fervorous vigor.

The bathroom at Rachel's penthouse was textured in calloused stone. The coarse surface stroked comfortably with each stride. By the two ends that stretched from the entrance to the back, glass panes that spanned from the ceiling to the floor sectioned off the toilet and the shower. Between them was a massive tub carved into a grainy block of stone. Across the amenities extended a massive mirror that ran across the room atop a long strip of countertop.

All this luxury that she could have never pictured, let alone witnessed, belonged to a mere guestroom of the residence.

Percy smiled while swatting at the streams of water spiraling playfully around her. They broke in formation from her intruding digit. This was the latest function she had uncovered, and most likely just another one of the many more that awaited her discovery. That intuition was confirmed when the rack of hoses on both sides erupted, sandwiching her in pressurized jets.

Percy squealed.

"Mom!" The little girl giggled in her blue dress, tinged purple by the setting sun. She touched her digits together in wonder and pondered the sting of numbness that lingered. The child reached for the geyser of water again.

"Mom!" The child pulled her hand back and grinned in amazement. She swiveled around, gesturing at the fountain excitedly. Words failed to express her bumbling enthusiasm.

"Yes, Percy?" The woman hummed. She sat with a leg crossed over in the child's direction, an elbow rested on her knee, and her chin nestled in her palm as tender, sparkling blue eyes gazed at the girl.

The fountain gushed to life, the dusk bled the sky crimson and violet, and the lamps beneath the jets of water toggled on, transforming the leaping streams into pillars of light. The girl crawled atop the knee-high ring of marble that circled the dancing cascade. Her big green eyes bounced between her fingertips and the gentle smile on her mother's face. Their faces were illuminated in a rippling, achromatic glow.

"Can we come back again?" The child leaned forward expectantly.

The woman pulled the girl in and planted a chaste kiss on her hair. "Of course, Percy."

The child grinned into the soft warmth of her mother's shirt as tiny arms tried their best to reciprocate an enveloping hug. Her mother smelled of chocolate and licorice and the girl loved it.

"We can come back. As many times as you want to."

Drying her hair with a towel, Percy left the bathroom in tiny skips. It's hard to tell how long it's been since she's had so much fun with water. Her mother had a lot less time to spend with her after the remarriage. But Rachel's shower had brought forth that nostalgia and put a smile on her face as she reminisced those precious, colorful memories.

She descended the staircase, running her fingers across the taut metallic wires that threaded through the marble slabs, just as she did when ascending them minutes ago. The thrumming cords had earned her an offhanded glance from Emmie. Upon realizing it was absent of the usual condescension and disapproval, she had promptly and happily resumed her business.

Percy hopped off the final step, her barefoot pattering softly in the vast living room. It echoed lightly, rippling through the ambient music. She looked up to find Emmie sitting on one of the sofas already gazing at her. Behind him stood Rachel, separated by the backrest, with a silly grin plastered on her face and her hands clamped onto both of her brother's cheeks.

"…Pershy." Emmie greeted evenly.

Percy snorted. The boy stared at her with his golden eyes, and she swallowed her laugh in all the haste she could muster.

"Sup, Perce!" Rachel exclaimed, noticing her as well. "How was the shower? Do the clothes fit you? I can get something else if you want. What color do you want? I have a lot of clothes in different colors. You can pick any one you want!"

Percy's lips parted and closed. In her head, she tried to go through the questions one by one, hoping that would help her process them. Unsurprisingly, her mind blanked after the second sentence.

"Rachel," Emmie said without turning around, coming to her rescue, "slow down. Give your friend a moment to respond."

The older redhead pouted and gave the younger redhead a few tugs on the cheeks. It seemed to Percy that Rachel was doing everything in her power to ruin the stoic atmosphere around the boy. They behaved like oil and water, yet their presence completed and balanced each other.

"So?" Rachel pushed down on Emmie's shoulders, leaning over him as she inquired again.

Swallowing her giggles with a deep breath, Percy replied. "Yeah, um, the clothes fit, and the shower was super nice, too…" And that was all she could recall regarding Rachel's concerns. "So uh, what are we doing now?"

"We'll send you home, I guess? You know the address of your house, right?" Rachel flipped over the sofa dangerously, landing beside her brother who bared his arm in front of her, halting the girl from tumbling onto the coffee table. "But before that, we will have some cookies—"

"Macarons."

"—that Emmie made yesterday!" Her friend finished while pointing at what Percy had mistaken as decoration.

Cookies…!

Sitting on the clean-cut hunk of marble that was the coffee table was a three-layered tray. Each of its rust-golden plates cradled plump, colorful confections that were stacked in neat rings along the rim. Among the palate of macarons, Percy's pupils honed in on a few that were dusted in light blue.

She squealed in her mind. Or, perhaps in reality too. Percy wasn't sure. But those details didn't matter in the face of her favorite nourishment: blue food. Yet, upon further fervent inspection, a twinge of disappointment bubbled as she counted the significantly lesser number of blue macarons.

"Wow…" Percy licked her lips before she paused as Rachel's comment registered. "Wait, send me home? I… erm, what about trying to call my mom again?"

"Oh, that!" Rachel turned and pouted at her brother. "Emmie called again while you were showering. But your mom still didn't answer. Anyway, since we can't find her, we'll just have our driver send you home. Is that okay?"

Her mom didn't answer? Percy felt somewhat dejected. Had she memorized the incorrect number, all along? It wasn't like this was the first time she screwed up. She was secretly looking forward to it—talking to her mom on the phone for the first time. But, alas, Percy Jackson would always be the screw-up, in times of importance and moments of ordinary occurrences.

"Oh. Sorry for, um…" Percy scratched her hair awkwardly, not knowing how to process yet another mistake of hers. Eventually, she settled for the only reactions appropriate as a troublesome guest. "Err… thanks."

Rachel giggled. "Don't worry, it's just a ride home! Me and Emmie have our own chauffeurs and we can call them any time we want, so it's all okay!"

"As rare as Rachel is correct," Emmie shrugged off a finger jabbed at his cheek, "it is indeed no trouble for us to give you a lift. Do you know the address of your place?"

"Yep," Percy bobbed her head earnestly, although that quickly slowed as uncertainty set in. "I know…I think?"

The boy arched an eyebrow.

"Erm, yeah…" She twiddled with the towel on her shoulder. Scraping together the little confidence she scavenged within herself, she converted the question into a statement despite her doubt. "I know."

Percy did not know. But she had already dug herself a hole. If her luck holds as usual, at the end of the day she would be jumping into the ditch she had made. Pushing problems until later has become a habit. It's not like she had any choice, given the endless number of mishaps that seemed to come charging at her. Some could be dampened with preparations. Most flew out of nowhere, dropping on her head like a miniature mountain. This time, she had prepared. She had been diligent in memorizing the address, but if she couldn't even recall a phone number, then she had no reason to believe she could remember something longer, not in any proper sense at least. Her only hope was that the address didn't land her somewhere in the wilderness. That was all she prayed for.

"…It's fine." The boy acknowledged even though she wasn't sure if he believed her. "In any case, if we can't send you home, there is always the option for you to stay over. But your mother would probably be quite distressed."

"C'mon," Rachel bounced off the sofa. "It's going to be fine! Time for cookies!"

Somehow, Emmie had volunteered himself to escort her home, much to the disgruntlement of Rachel, and, secretly, Percy's disappointment.

Therefore, it came as a pleasant surprise for the girl when the ride back was sprinkled with snippets of conversations with Emmie. Percy had found herself wanting. There were moments she caught herself engaging the younger boy as she had engaged her teachers, yet there was a distinct lack of disappointment in his golden eyes that the adults inherently held. And for the first time, it was comforting, oddly enough, to talk to someone adult-like without the usual condescension.

But the big words were making her head hurt. She hoped he'd stop that, but then he'd think she was dumb. Therefore, whenever her mind blanked, she would just stare at him, expressionless, pretending nothing was wrong. But the younger boy must've had the ability to read minds because he would always pause, return her stare, and regurgitate his words in a longer yet simpler form. Then she would understand and nod along happily.

Emmie must have realized she was confused. All those instances couldn't have been coincidences. Right? This realization had the girl constantly running laps in her head, doubting her ability to keep up a good mask.

However, Emmie was also infuriating. He liked to tease and sometimes Percy struggled to grasp his aims.

There were moments when his smugness seeped through. A slight crook on his lips. The tiniest crinkle in his eyes. There was indeed no malice behind his words, yet they still stung a bit. It wasn't the kind that made her heart clench after being wronged. More so the type that fueled an itching anger at being provoked.

It was the type that goaded her into flaring her nostrils and pointing her finger.

"I—I'll definitely get smart one day!"

The boy hummed in response.

"You!" Percy pointed harder at him. "W-Why are you like this!"

When all she received was amused silence from the boy, Percy spun around and stared out the window with all her childish might. It wasn't until they were nearing her destination, whom Emmie had been the one to remind her, did the fuming girl grunted in acknowledgment.

"Wha—" Percy felt a box rest against her neck.

"These are some macarons. The blue ones, to be specific." Emmie regarded her with a slight tug on his lips. "You seem to obsess over this color."

Percy stared at the rectangular box with wide eyes.

"Don't worry, it's not poisoned. This is my thanks, and… well, a promise for being Rachel's friend." He placed the treats onto her lap. "As you can tell, Rachel's pretty good at studying. You're welcome to visit and stay at our place whenever you'd like. The two of you could study together, which I'm sure Rachel would love. As a bonus, there will be food and snacks."

The sedan rolled to a stop.

"Thank you for the ride." She grounded out, hunching over the box of confections gifted to her in protectiveness.

"Hm." The boy nodded in nonchalance. "Not bad. Not bad. You've got manners? I'd say you're halfway to greatness already. Keep it up, once you've got your schoolwork covered, you'll be on track for a normal academic life."

Cradling the neatly wrapped package of pastries, Percy hurried out of the car and stuck her tongue out at Emmie. "And thank you for the cookies."

"Macarons. Not cookies." The boy offered a single wave from his seat.

"Bleughhh. Bye-bye meanie."

With a thud, she swung the door shut, making her way up the curbside and onto the stoop of her apartment building. The entrance opened with a creak. Percy offered one final, angry wave and ran up the stairs.

She marveled at the gift in her hands. Her stomach did a little flip as she imagined sharing the macarons with her mom. Stopping before her unit, Percy rummaged through her backpack. She quickly placed the confections at the bottom. Covering the stash with her booklets and pencil case, the girl swiftly zipped her bag and nodded.

Now, there was no way for Smelly Gabe to pillage her goods.

With a deep breath, she grasped the sticky doorknob and twisted.

The flip phone sat on the armrest and behind the gear shift. Its plastic screen glowed dimly, vibrating from the tremors of the vehicle.

…Beep… Beep… Beep… Pa.

Sally grimaced. Robert had lent her the device and the car, having decided to stay with his daughter. The phone was not hers and neither was the sim card. Any calls made from it would be foreign to her regular contacts—and Gabe would never entertain an anonymous dial.

Taking her right hand off the steer, Sally pressed the key again. The screen loaded away, cycling through ellipses that flashed on the window. Gabe would surely take her insistence as impudence. An act due for discipline on the basis of disturbing his poker night.

That was trivial, however. Sally didn't care. Because, for all she knew, this was the quickest way to confirm Percy's whereabouts.

She stepped on the gas. The dial rose steadily behind the dashboard. Beyond the windshield, the headlights flooded the empty road, flaring against the dashed road marks that streaked into rolling lines.

Percy squinted at the tiny screen that went from glowing to dark. It was an unanswered call from a number she did not recognize.

She ignored it and tiptoed away. In the pitch-black of the living room, the steady rumbling of snores reverberated from a walrus-shaped silhouette on the couch. Smelly Gabe had drunk himself asleep. The apartment was heavy with the pungency of alcohol, cigarettes, and the viscid tang of grease—human grease. It was the odor found typically in aged men who had not showered for days, forming an accumulation of bodily secretion.

Slipping into her room silently, she quickly opened the window and flushed out the suffocating air. Then, taking good care to extract the confections from her backpack, the girl laid on her stomach and placed it far underneath her bed, right between the blue tiara she received on her third birthday and the baseball mitts for playing catch with her mom. It was where she hid everything she cherished. She was confident Gabe would fail to find them. She couldn't imagine him reaching anywhere near the ground with that belly of his. Even if he could, it was too much effort to ask of the man.

Feeling a bit thirsty, the girl sneaked back into the hallway, passing by the drunken man, and into the kitchen. She grabbed a glass and slowly inched the faucet open. She cringed as the water dribbled loudly in the absence of the usual racket. Thankfully, Gabe's snoring remained unchanging.

Percy pumped her fist quietly. Today was indeed a good day. She made a friend, went to her friend's house, had some amazing food, had an amazing shower, received more amazing food as a gift, and Smelly Gabe was knocked out in the living room. Now, all she wished for was to share the macarons with her mother. That would make the day perfect. Perhaps the most perfect in many years.

Bzzz…

She snapped the tap shut at the unexpected noise. The phone began to vibrate again. Her eyes flitted between the device and the slumbering form on the couch. Gabe did not rouse. Percy slowly dropped her shoulders, bringing the cup to her lips as she gulped down the water.

"Kah…!" The girl exhaled in satisfaction. She loved drinking water.

The ring came and went as she downed her glass. Realizing that Gabe wouldn't be up, drunk, mad, and throwing a tantrum, she filled another cup and began marching back. She was at her door when the phone buzzed again. Hesitance sparked in her chest. It was swiftly extinguished by the girl. She backtracked into the living room, studying the device that had rung for a third time.

Its glowing, little screen displayed an incoming call, rhythmic and jarring. Its endless drone was an agitating stab at the silence, even more than the snoring man.

Percy reached for the device. Her palm tingled with each vibration and her gaze landed, instinctively, on the heaving form by the couches.

The putrid man stood over the little girl and her mother. His shadows cast over their forms—the mother, with her back exposed, curled protectively over the child, and the child, with her tiny face resting on the woman's shoulders, glowered at the man.

"Shhh," the woman hushed gently, soothing her daughter, the man still behind her. "It's alright. Gabe is just a little upset that dinner is late. I'll be quick to make something wonderful."

The young girl continued to glare at the towering form.

"Ah, I know," Sally uttered softly without turning, her hands rubbing gently on her child's back. "How about broccoli chicken casserole? Extra-large, with a side of creamy celery soup. I'm sure Gabe would love that, right?"

A sneer stretched across the man's face. "Hurry up. I'll forgive you this time. Next time you talk to me like that, brain boy, it will be much worse than this."

Then he trudged past them like nothing had transpired. Percy tried to twist around but failed. Her mother's embrace kept her in place.

"Shhh… It's okay, Percy. It's okay." Sally slowly released the girl, holding her at arm's length. "Why don't you go back to your room, I'll call you when dinner's ready, alright? You'll love the food."

It was red, the corner of her lips. Faint and smeared out—hastily—so that somebody wouldn't notice, somebody that was the girl. But it was there, hanging on the edge of her smile. Another red started to bead. And Percy could not look away.

Her mother must have noticed. Tensing for just an instance, her mother's hand flew up and rubbed at the spot. The droplet was gone, leaving her cheek to take on a rosier tone. It was a noticeable shade darker than her other side. Percy continued to stare. Because it was all she could do.

"…Go on," The woman kept her hand lifted, hiding the corner of her mouth as she smiled at Percy. "I'll call you when dinner is served. Won't forget, I promise. You still have some homework to do, no?"

Percy waddled back to her room. Her mind was a mess that toggled between the fading, soft, warm palm that cupped her face, the encouraging eyes, and the wound hidden behind those hands, marring the once-perfect lips.

The door clicked shut.

She twisted the latch, shut the windows, and pulled the curtains, banishing what little lights remained.

Clutched tightly in her fingers, Gabe's phone continued to ring. The display gleamed. It failed to pierce the blanket of darkness and reach the walls, instead, the light settled for the nearest surface. Percy lowered her head and studied the device. The glowing screen printed a bright pair of rectangles on her irises, unshaken.

Pick up, please.

The mechanical melody of the ringtone was a loud yet distant buzz in her mind as she waited with her eyes fixed on the traffic lights.

…Beep… Beep… Beep… Pa.

Silence.

She pressed the dial button again and waited.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…

Just this once, don't let me down.

The speaker clicked. The muted sound was abrupt and deafening in her ears. He answered.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she opened her mouth.

"Gabe," She breathed.

Thank God.

"Is Percy home—"

"Wow~"

…Huh.

That sweet but distorted voice—how familiar it sounded, always tugging at her heartstrings, putting butterflies in her chest.

Her heart sank.

Sally Jackson had dreamt up moments like these, being on a call with her little girl. Maybe there no longer existed magic that would endanger them. Maybe her child had grown strong enough to ignore any threats. Or maybe it was a world without monsters and gods.

And so there she would be, sitting at a desk at night, typing away on her computer as an aspiring author, gossiping on the phone with her daughter who was studying in college, about some cute boy that had caught her girl's eye.

But that was then, and this is now—not somewhere in a distant future, or a world not their own, and a life they would not lead.

Even then, she could at least hope for a sliver of possibility.

All those late nights spent flipping through borrowed books on mythology, cradling a swollen belly, hoping that her knowledge would protect her baby. Selling the last memento from her deceased parents, the engagement ring inherited from her mother, to barely scrap together enough money for a rifle that would one day find its purpose—a purpose on a day she prayed, knowingly, in naïve optimism would never arrive. And marrying Gabe, sacrificed Percy's chance at living the life she deserved, stripped her of the choice to be the girl that she was, and forced her to live as a boy for the years to come in fear of what her husband might do should he ever discover the truth, yet given no choice to abandon the man.

Sometimes Sally would lay wide awake at night, bruised and aching, as the man beside her snored in contentment. There were no tears, only a practiced routine: get up, wash herself clean, and return to bed, to the man that had put her in this predicament.

In the end, it would all be worth it. It would surely pay off. It was her chance to glimpse into that fantasy of hers—of the beautiful girl that would one day stand in front of her, grown out of the child that once upon a time could only reach her knees, matured, unburdened, and ready to pursue a future of her own. A future of any possibilities.

It was supposed to be a glimpse into that happy ending for Percy.

So… why?

Why did you pick up.

You're not supposed to pick up.

Only you.

"…Mom! Is that you?"

Percy.

"Hello? Mom?"

The lights turned green. It was a messy cloud in her eyes.

Strangely, for the first time in years, she felt her vision blur.

The campfire crackled. A large wooden staff stirred at the pieces of glowing red coal; the heat radiated in waves every time a rock was turned. The rod retreated from the breathing flames. Whispers of smoke wafted from the tip as it was placed on the ground, cushioned above lush grass that sunk at its weight.

"Um. Hi…" The blonde child greeted, fidgeting with the oversized, crimson blanket that wrapped around her figure. "I-I'm Lacy, nice to meet you…"

The older girl, appearing eight or nine years old, turned around. Lacy caught her breath. Eyes as brilliant and red as the fire held her gaze in return. They had a sense of surrealism. It seemed unearthly that such striking beauty could hold such unfathomable gentleness. Lacy was almost sure it was an illusion of the dancing flames, but those fiery orbs had quivered, just so slightly and fleetingly, as they paused on the garment draped all over her. Then it was gone, and those kind eyes were focused on her again.

"Hello, Lacy," She smiled, brushing her mousy brown hair past her ears. It was incredibly warm.

The older girl's voice blanketed Lacy in a snuggly coziness. A sense of fuzziness blossomed within her chest. Warmth filled her limbs, pushing through every inch of her digits until it couldn't fill any more of the lonely gaps in her body. They escaped from the ends of her toes and her fingers, evaporating away until more of the overflowing comfort welled up from her core, washing away at every fiber of her being.

"You can call me Hestia." The older girl said, patting the grass by her side. It was opposite of where the massive, smoke-laden staff laid. "Do you want to have a seat?"

"Yes!" Lacy bobbed her head in a rare moment of boldness. She glanced at the set of tables a distance away. Her father nodded and waved at her. The girl waved back and quickly sat down.

"Oh? A child of Aphrodite, is it?" A cooler voice interrupted.

Lacy looked up and shivered as she caught a pair of piercing, silver orbs. The girl who spoke sat a few spots away from them along the engulfing heat of the campfire. The fire flickered and so did the shadows cast by her auburn hair. Yet, despite the shifting contours across her face, her eyes remained clear and steady. It cut through the night like beams of moonlight, cool and mesmerizing.

"Oh, erm… I'm Lacy." She repeated to the stunning girl. "Nice to meet you."

The silver-eyed girl scowled.

"Artemis, be nice, please." Hestia chided.

"No, it's not that," She gazed into the distance. "There's a disturbance in the forests outside New York City… Monsters… Approaching in a perfect circumference… And very widespread as well…"

"An electronic device, then." Hestia sighed. "Will you bring your hunters?"

"Yes, but they'll move on their own," Artemis pushed herself up, a silver bow in hand as she slung it over her back. "The center is somewhere in Manhattan. East Harlem, it seems. My hunters won't be fast enough."

"I see." Hestia nodded. "Good hunting, Artemis."

Artemis bowed her head so ever slightly before glancing at Lacy. "Look away, child."

Lacy squeezed her eyes shut.

"We will speak when I return." Her voice rang atop the pops of burning wood.

Lacy's eyelids brightened for a second and returned to an orange hue. When she looked again, only silver embers drifted towards the ground from where Artemis had stood.

Well into the night, the streets of midtown Manhattan were still colored by the movements of those traveling home. A woman stood amongst many at an intersection, her black shawl stood along the taller ones within the flock. The walk sign flickered white. The silhouettes of pedestrians flowed by. She remained rooted. Her long, obsidian gown draped from head to ankles, exposing only aged hands. Around her, the people parted without complaint or concern. And she continued to stand there, like a specter amidst the living, gazing at something afar. Something beyond the celestial fortress dressed in steel and glass called to old memories, to scents of the past.

Hissss…!

Tendrils writhed under the veil, straining against the fabric. Her shimmering eyes flinched behind the gauze. For the first time, the woman moved—taking a single, unsteady step back.

The world lost its color. The streets lost their sound. A creeping ring heralded the impending. And then it came. A surge. A singing of cold steel.

It tore into her eardrums, threatening to burst the delicate organ as the sharp tone inched into her head, unrelenting, unforgiving, and undefendable. She saw the flash of white sheathing itself between her eyes, felt the cold of the metal splitting her skin, sinking past her skull, and heard the soft, inexplicable squelch of her tender, fatty brain parting itself for the intruding blade.

The snakes thrashed under her garb. She cut the connection, hunched over and heaving. Colors and sound snapped back into place. Pedestrians ebbed around her, traveling to places unknown. Headlamps shined brightly as engines hummed on standby. The walk sign began to flash. The warm city air blew by, suffused in smoke and unburnt gasoline. She shivered, robes clung to her skin, dampened by her sweat.

It wasn't until the flock of people had trickled away did she regained a semblance of composure. She was certain now, clutching her tremoring limbs—it had been a mistake to visit, even if that self-proclaimed god-emperor had much to offer.

The rumors were true. New York City and its greater area were no longer lands that they could tread carelessly. The landscape was the same. Such were the buildings, the roads, and the humans. Yet it was all so foreign now.

After all, a monster slept within the city that never sleeps.

When the scent of ocean breeze came, they gazed in mesmerization at the golden outline of the jagged, glimmering cityscape carving out its presence from the all-encompassing night.

The fragrance of the sea had never been so delectable. The shine of the city had never been so alluring. They charged from wherever they were, closing in from beyond the human populace and crossing the boundary where nature met civilization. Hooves trampled into the dirt. Wings beat against the wind. It had been too long since their lusts were struck to such heights. Too long that they had forgotten what it felt like to hunt in flocks.

Then their pupils dilated. The pain flashed into their minds without warning—sharp, cold, and penetrating. Limbs tangled together as many cratered into the floor. Wings dragged behind as they plummeted towards the earth. The strings to the puppets were severed.

All they could do was splutter and whimper into the ground, twisting and arching, digging into the dirt, and tearing up the grass. Their visions watered as they peered into the distance.

Two years had passed, and the spiraling pillars of steel and glass remained forever unreachable.

Minutes had passed like days, stretched into an eternity that seemed to grow with every step she put forth. But it had come to an end, marked by that apartment of peeled paint and orange bricks. It was quiet in a way that made her hopeful. Yet, a row of darkened windows extinguished it just as quickly.

A powerful slam busted open the door. The dim flickers of the stairwells flooded in as her slender form stumbled into the residence. Sally Jackson scrambled up from the floor and sprang towards the room at the end of the short hallway. Another door was rammed open.

"Percy!"

In the dark, a dumbfounded girl stared back at her. Sally rushed forward and dropped to her knees. The frightened girl yelped as she was spun left and right.

Her neck was fine. Her chest was intact. Her limbs were present. Her clothes were dry. There were no cuts, dents, holes, or blood. Nothing twisted in an odd angle. Nothing jutted out where it shouldn't. Other than the pink that rimmed the girl's eyes and dusted her nose, and the faint trails of moisture that traced her cheeks, there was nothing of worrying note that marked her. Sally Jackson hugged her daughter into her chest and sagged into the girl's warmth.

"M-Mom?" A frightful voice squeaked.

Sally didn't respond immediately. Instead, she buried her face into Percy's neck and allowed herself to wallow in the scent of her daughter.

"I'm sorry… I-I shouldn't pick up the phone…" Percy must have sensed her distress, because the girl tried her very best to wriggle her arms around Sally's torso, pressing her soft body into the embrace.

With one last whiff of the fresh cleanliness that murmured of tropical fruits, Sally pried herself off her daughter, pulling away from the warm, thick, and soft cushioning of Percy's messy black hair. Big green eyes peered at her. Her small hands fiddled with her shorts, with outfits that did not belong to her. But Sally's tossed that concern into the back of her mind. There were matters more pressing.

In one large stride, she was at the window, peering through the curtain's gaps. Her eyes strained against the vacuums of the sky. Beyond the barricade of complexes poorly sown together, the hushed radiance of the metropolis scattered into the night like backlights to a massive stage. After moments of vigilance, Sally retreated from the windows and cupped the cheeks of an anxious Percy.

"Sweetheart, I need you to keep close to me at all times. Can you do that for me?"

Smaller hands clutched Sally's. Percy had trapped her palm with both of her own, bobbing her head furiously. Sally kissed her daughter on the forehead.

In the backdrop of Gabe's snores, they crept into the hallways and the master bedroom. Percy waited watchfully like a tiny guard as Sally fiddled with a hidden chest. The lock came undone with a click. The lid creaked open. Sally reached inside—the cold touch of a metallic tube welcomed her after years of idle.

The updrafts tousled flocks of his hair.

He opened his eyes to fields of buildings. Conjoined complexes splayed into the distance, block by block, row by row, arriving at the horizon on the foot of the forest of shining spires. From atop the shabby rooftop, the glassy outline of skyscrapers carved a stark contrast between the glistening city and the starless sky. Down the quiet alley, a car would break off from the greater stream on FDR Drive, the six-lane freeway tracing the shores of East River, and veer into the narrow streets that divided aged apartment buildings.

Emiya craned his neck—and there it was in front of him, his arm submerged within currents that flowed towards the sky. Something transparent was in the air. A pillar of invisible flux. A pipeline, beaconing the location of a demigod, funneling their scent to places unknown.

Stretching towards the night sky was a thin beam that dwarfed any glassy spires. It blossomed at the apex, brushing the murky clouds, splitting into bands that arched outwards like the skeleton of an umbrella—an umbrella that engulfed the city in a dome of lines, dividing the sky as they tethered to far-off subjects. Most reached for the outskirts. A few fell within the city.

It was a spell, a magic of this world.

He lowered his gaze. It wasn't hard to imagine. Beneath that dusty roof and behind those bricked walls of peeling paint must be a young girl, curiously glued to a phone.

Minutes passed. The pillar of mana lost its intensity, gradually collapsing on itself. The remaining column shut off like the switch of an electric torch. His fluttering hair settled. Emiya lowered his arms and halted the discharge of his magical energy. The translucent threads had dissipated from the skies of New York City.

He brought his finger under his nose. The acrid smell that could only be described as the decay of flesh and cesspool burned his nostrils. Yet, unrepressed beneath all that pungency was a distinct wisp of fresh, salty breeze. With another pulse of energy, he burned it all away in a flare of sharp, metallic tang.

Sally watched the night remain unchanged. With cautious movements, she closed the distance between her and Percy, drawing the drowsy girl into a protective circle made by her arms.

The apartment settled around them, the distant city sounds a soft hum against the closer cadence of their breathing. Gabe's snores were a rumble from a world away, insignificant and easily forgotten. Sally brushed a loose strand of hair from Percy's forehead, tucking it gently behind her ear. "Let's get some rest," she whispered.

Percy nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and relief. Together, they made a small island on the girl's small bed. Sally's shielded the girl against the shadows that danced at the room's edges. Percy's breaths grew deep and even, her body relaxing fully for the first time in hours.

In the quiet that followed, Sally remained awake, watching over her daughter, tracing the peace etched into her features, yet maintaining her firm clutch against the metal barrels warmed by her hold. It was odd how this moment offered a fragile kind of perfection, one Sally etched into memory. She allowed herself to unwind against Percy's rhythmic breathings as it sang a lullaby that soothed her frayed nerves.

She would keep Percy safe, come what may.

The clock raced into the night. Sally kept her daughter in her embrace with one arm while a loaded shotgun leaned against the crook of her shoulder, waiting for the hours to pass until the lights of dawn would peek through the curtains.

"Are you Lacy, daughter of Aphrodite?" A girl's voice interrupted.

"Y-Yes!"

The blonde child and her father found themselves in the presence of a well-built girl shouldering a silver bow with long ginger hair that was shaved on one side. Her grey camouflage t-shirt, faded black jeans, and utility belt framed her as one who enjoyed camping, hiking ... or hunting.

The older girl studied Lacy for a moment, her gaze flickering up and down, judging. "Lady Artemis wishes to speak with you, child. Follow me." She then turned sharply on her heel, making headway without further elaboration.

"U-Um…" Lacy glanced up at her father, Robert, seeking silent permission. With a gentle nod, he encouraged her, and she hurried after Phoebe, her small feet pattering against the soft, lush grass, her large, red blanket dragging behind her like a peacock's tail. She fell in steps just behind the ginger-haired girl. "What does… um, lady Artemis want with me?"

"Lady Artemis takes interest in all young maidens. Even if it's a child of Aphrodite. As to what else she would discuss with you, I would assume they are matters regarding your encounters with the cyclopes." Phoebe's stride didn't falter, but she cast a glance over her shoulder, her eyes reflecting the glint of torches. She called over her shoulders in annoyance, "You there, the father of Lacy. What are you doing? Follow along, our Lady is gracious and tolerant, and has granted you audience."

"H-Hey! D-Don't talk to daddy like that!" The small child bounced angrily, surprising even herself as she squawked at her outburst. "I-I mean, um, p-please don't talk to daddy like that…"

The older girl clicked her tongue and focused on the path ahead. "At least you've got spunk, kiddo. Let's not waste time. And you, man," she grounded out as she strode onwards, her hair swaying with rhythm, "keep your distance and be respectful. We don't tolerate males who do not behave. Take this advice to heart."

For those of you interested, there were some foreshadowing and hints that set up, potentially, the rest of this arc and one of the main overarching plots for the entirety of the story I have planned (4-5 arcs, abt full novel length each). These clues are not enough for you to come to conclusion on anything, yet, but more of them will be dropped throughout the chapters. Hopefully, this will be fun for those who are interested.

Thanks for reading and have a great day.

Cheers.