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CHAPTER 3: NO REST FOR THE WICKED
The shadows clung to Percy as Mrs. O'Leary guided them through the dark, shifting world of shadow travel.
Imagine freezing, being heated in an oven, flying at a zillion miles per hour while not being able to feel or see anything.
Times that by ten, and you get shadow travelling.
His heart was still racing, the adrenaline from the encounter with Artemis pumping through his veins. As they emerged from the shadows and into the relative safety of a deserted warehouse, Percy stumbled, his legs giving way beneath him.
"Easy, girl," he murmured, patting Mrs. O'Leary's side as she nuzzled him with concern. "I'm okay. Just need a minute." The hellhound let out a low whine, her massive head resting on Percy's shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. His shoulder throbbed where the arrow had grazed him, but he forced the pain to the back of his mind. There were bigger problems to deal with.
Artemis had almost caught him this time. She was relentless, faster and deadlier than he remembered. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the cold determination in her eyes. It was a look he'd seen on countless enemies before, but it felt different coming from her.
"I thought we were on the same side," he muttered to himself, leaning against the cool, crumbling wall. "Guess that's history now."
He needed to think, to figure out his next move. Percy's eyes scanned the dimly lit warehouse, taking in the broken windows, rusted machinery, and scattered debris. It wasn't much, but it would do for now. He needed a plan, and fast.
With a groan, Percy pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the movement aggravated his injury. He couldn't afford to rest long. Artemis was still out there, and he had no doubt she'd be on his trail soon enough. The thought of her relentless pursuit sent a fresh wave of exhaustion crashing over him, but he shook it off. There was no time for self-pity.
"I've faced worse," he reminded himself, trying to summon the confidence that had seen him through so many battles before. "I've beaten gods, monsters… Titans. I can handle this."
But even as he said the words, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was different. This wasn't just another quest or another enemy to defeat. Artemis wasn't someone he could outfight. Outthinking her, though… That was another matter.
Food. He needed food, and water, and fast.
Percy began pacing the length of the warehouse, his mind racing through the possibilities. He needed to regroup.
And what about his friends, if he could call them that? Jason, Piper, and Leo - they were still out there, trying to fix the car. He hoped they'd managed to stay out of Artemis's path, but he couldn't be sure. The thought of them in danger because of him made his stomach churn.
"I can't keep running forever," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Eventually, she's going to catch up."
He needed to get ahead of her, to find a way to turn the tables. But how? Percy's mind wandered back to the moment Artemis had hesitated, the brief flicker of something in her eyes that wasn't cold determination. Regret, maybe? Or doubt?
It's a long shot, he thought, but maybe, just maybe, I can use that.
The idea started to take shape in his mind, a risky plan that might just give him the edge he needed. If he could figure out what was driving Artemis, what was holding her back, he might be able to exploit it. But to do that, he needed information - and there was only one place he could think of to get it.
A prophecy. He needed the one thing he hated more than anything.
He grimaced, the thought of what he had to do next making his stomach churn. A prophecy. He'd dealt with enough of them to last several lifetimes, and they never brought anything but trouble. But if he was going to survive this hunt, he needed answers - answers that only a prophecy might provide.
The idea of seeking out a prophecy felt like walking into a trap. They were never straightforward, always wrapped in riddles and half-truths. But Percy knew he was out of options. He couldn't keep running forever, and if there was even a chance that a prophecy could give him the edge he needed, he had to take it.
Percy had a plan, but it was going to take every bit of cunning he had left. He needed to learn more about the changes in the world, the new dynamics of power since Kronos had taken over. If Styx was somehow tied to all of this, it meant the rules had changed - and not in his favor.
He knew where he had to go: but he wasn't sure he wanted to go.
I have to, he reminded himself.
A place where he could get a prophecy - the Big House. It was a gamble, to be sure. The Oracle might not even be there still - but he had to try.
And if he could get there before Artemis caught up to him, maybe - just maybe - he could find a way to break the cycle. To stop the hunt, not just for himself, but for everyone.
Percy took one last look around the warehouse, making sure he hadn't left any clues behind.
"No rest for the wicked," Percy muttered to the shadows, before jumping onto Mrs. O'Leary's back and disappearing into the night.
THE IRON HUNT
Percy and Mrs. O'Leary appeared somewhere they probably shouldn't have been - an old two-story white house, with a rusty swing set under an apple tree in the front yard. It was decorated with stuffed beanbag animals such as miniature lions, pigs, dragons, hydras, and even a teeny Minotaur.
Of course. They were at the Castellan house.
Percy's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the Castellan house. It was an unexpected detour, but as he glanced at the familiar, though ruined, surroundings, he couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with frustration. The home was a ghost of its former self, much like everything else.
He slid off Mrs. O'Leary's back and patted her reassuringly. "Hold tight, girl. We might need to move quickly."
He turned to Mrs. O'Leary, who was still watching him with those big, soulful eyes. "I need you to do something for me, girl," he said, crouching down to her level. "I need you to stay put, okay?"
The hellhound let out a soft bark, her tail wagging slightly as if to reassure him. Percy smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good girl. Keep out of trouble until I figure this out."
Mrs. O'Leary gave him a nudge with her nose, and Percy couldn't help but chuckle. "I'll be fine. I always am."
He watched as the hellhound disappeared into the shadows once more, the world suddenly feeling much emptier without her. Alone, Percy allowed himself a moment to breathe, to let the weight of everything settle on his shoulders. He was tired - bone tired - but he couldn't stop now.
"Time to get to work," he muttered to himself.
The house looked like a relic of better times, but it was hardly the safe haven he was looking for. He needed to get to the Big House, not relive memories of old enemies and past battles. But if the Castellan house was where he'd ended up, he might as well make use of it.
Percy approached the front door cautiously. The place looked deserted, but that didn't mean there weren't surprises waiting for him inside. He knocked lightly, but there was no response. Hesitating for a moment, he pushed open the door.
The inside of the house was as he remembered - warm and cluttered. Photographs and trophies lined the walls, and the scent of old wood and dust filled the air. It was eerily quiet, and the absence of any sound made the place feel even more forlorn.
As he moved through the rooms, he found himself drawn to the study, a room filled with books and old maps. He rifled through the papers and maps scattered on the desk, hoping to find something useful.
He found a collection of old scrolls and notes, remnants of what looked kind of like past prophecies and research. As he examined them, he came across a note.
"The truth lies beneath the shadows of time," it read. "Seek the light where the old stories end."
Percy frowned at the note. It seemed like another piece of the puzzle, but what did it mean?
Before he could ponder it further, he heard a noise from the hallway. Percy tensed, his senses on high alert. He moved quietly, peeking around the corner, and saw a figure approaching - a figure he hadn't expected to see.
"Hello?" he called out, hoping it wasn't Artemis.
"My son!" A voice cried out. Percy's hand instinctively moved to his sword, but he froze when he heard the familiar voice.
"Hello?" Percy called out, his voice steady despite his growing unease.
The figure that appeared in the doorway was not Artemis but a woman who looked vaguely familiar, her hair wild and unkempt. She had a look of recognition in her eyes, though it seemed misplaced.
"My son!" she cried out, her voice high-pitched and tinged with a sort of manic delight. "Is that you, Luke?"
Percy's heart sank as he realized who it was. May Castellan.
How in all that was holy had May Castellan survived?
He saw her and realised that survive was an overestimate - she was a shadow of her former self, looking bony and fragile.
"Uh, no," Percy said carefully, taking a cautious step back. "I'm not Luke. I'm Percy. I'm here for something else."
May's eyes narrowed, though there was still a glimmer of confused hope in them. "Oh, but you must be him," she insisted. "I've been waiting for you, Luke. I knew you'd come back to me."
Percy glanced around, assessing the situation. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said gently, trying to steer the conversation. "I need to find something here. A prophecy, maybe? Can you help me?"
May tilted her head, her expression a mix of confusion and sadness. "A prophecy?" she echoed, as if the concept were foreign to her. "I don't know about that. But you're my son, and you're here. That's what matters."
Percy sighed, realizing he might need to be more direct. "Listen, I really need to find something specific. Anything that might be useful. Maybe old papers or something?"
May's eyes brightened at the mention of papers. "Oh, the papers!" she said, clapping her hands together. "I have so many of them. They're all over the house. Let me show you, but first, food!"
He went to the kitchen with her, where a pile of sandwiches were waiting. He had never been so grateful for a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in his life. Percy took a second, then a third, and before he knew it he was stuffed.
"Thanks for the food…" he paused. "Mom. But can you show me the papers?"
She seemed very happy that he had enjoyed the sandwiches. "Oh, of course my dear! Follow me!"
Percy followed her through the cluttered rooms, each one filled with a bizarre assortment of knick-knacks and relics. May chattered incessantly about PB sandwiches, and various memories that seemed more fantastical than factual.
Finally, they arrived at a room that seemed to be a makeshift archive. Papers were strewn everywhere, some neatly stacked and others haphazardly piled. Percy spotted what looked like old scrolls and documents among the mess.
"There! That's what you're looking for," May said, pointing to a particularly disorganized stack of papers. "You always had a way with finding things."
Percy nodded, trying to maintain a semblance of patience. "Thank you. I'll look through these."
May looked at him with a wistful smile. "I'm glad you're here, Luke. Don't go away again, okay?"
Percy gave her a reassuring smile, though it felt hollow. "I won't be long."
As May left the room, Percy began to sift through the papers, hoping to find something useful amidst the chaos. The scattered documents seemed like a jumbled mess, but there was a chance something significant might be buried within them.
He picked up a few scrolls and began to read, his mind racing as he tried to decipher the information. His dyslexia was not helping.
His focus was interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Percy tensed, knowing he had little time before he might have to confront May.
He quickly skimmed through the documents, looking for any hint of a prophecy or anything that could point him in the right direction. Percy's frustration mounted as he struggled to make sense of it all.
Finally, he found a note that seemed to stand out. Percy's heart raced as he read through it, realizing it might be connected to what he was searching for.
Just as he was about to delve deeper, he heard May's voice calling out again, her tone insistent. "Luke! It's time to go! You don't want to be late!"
She came in, then saw the note. "Oh, not that one! Silly boy-" her voice cut off.
Percy frowned. "Are you alright?"
May laughed. It started off as a small giggle, then it grew louder, until she was cackling. "Seven demigods shall answer the call," May chanted through her laughter, her eyes twinkling with a manic light. "To storm or fire…"
"Seven demigods shall answer the call,
to storm or fire the earth must fall,
an oath to keep with a final breath,
foes bear arms to the Doors of Death,
a halfblood of the eldest gods,
shall bear the burden, fell yet awed."
Percy's heart pounded as the words sank in. A prophecy - exactly what he'd been looking for, yet nothing like what he wanted to hear. Each line felt heavy, filled with dark implications that made his stomach twist.
A halfblood of the eldest gods… was that him? Jason was a son of Jupiter, so maybe him, or Nico- Percy almost choked up. Nico might not even be alive.
May's laughter continued, a haunting echo in the small room. She rocked back and forth, seemingly lost in the rhythm of her own words. Percy had seen this side of her before - when she wasn't all there, when she was trapped in some kind of loop.
A prophecy. Was this what Luke had heard? Had this been the weight that broke him? The lines played over in his mind, pulling at threads of old memories and fears.
May suddenly stopped laughing, her gaze snapping back to him. "Luke," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You have to be careful. The Titans… the shadows… they're always watching."
Percy swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay calm. "What does it mean?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. "What shadows?"
But May just shook her head, her eyes clouding over again. "Shadows and death," she murmured, almost to herself. "You'll see… you'll see."
Percy bit back his frustration. Whatever insight she might have had, it was slipping away, drowned in the depths of her fractured mind.
He needed to get out of here. He needed to think, to piece together what little he had and figure out his next move.
"Thanks for your help," Percy said softly, though he wasn't sure if May was even listening anymore. She had wandered off, her muttering fading as she disappeared down the hallway.
Percy stuffed the note into his pocket, then quickly exited the room. The prophecy was ringing in his ears, a dark melody that wouldn't let him rest. He had to get to the Big House, to find the Oracle, or whatever remained of it. If there were answers to be found, they'd be there.
As he made his way back outside, Percy felt the weight of the prophecy bearing down on him. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning, that whatever was coming for him - and for the world - was far worse than anything he'd faced before.
Mounting Mrs. O'Leary once more, he gave the Castellan house one last look. "Let's get out of here, girl," he muttered. "We've got work to do."
The hellhound whined. "I know you're tired, but we have to go. Just one more trip."
Mrs. O'Leary barked softly, and with a final glance at the house, they disappeared into the night, the prophecy still echoing in Percy's mind like a bad omen.
THE IRON HUNT
Percy and Mrs. O'Leary emerged on an abandoned road, the asphalt cracked and overgrown with weeds. The air was thick with the smell of saltwater and pine, a scent that immediately brought back memories. Percy recognized the place almost instantly - Long Island.
Mrs. O'Leary whined, and Percy smiled tiredly. "I've been working you a bit too hard, haven't I? Go, I'll whistle if I need you."
Percy's gaze shifted to the horizon. In the distance, he could just make out the familiar shape of Half-Blood Hill, the lone pine tree still standing tall, even after all these years. But something was off - there was no sign of the dragon that once guarded the Golden Fleece, no movement, no sound. Just a suffocating silence that made Percy's skin crawl.
He knew he had to be careful. The place looked almost peaceful, but Percy knew better. The camp was no longer the sanctuary it once was. Not since Kronos took over. But he needed answers, and the Big House was his best shot at finding them.
As he made his way toward the camp, Percy couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap. The road was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of nature conspicuously absent. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
At the top of the hill, Percy paused, his heart pounding as he looked out over the camp. What he saw made his blood run cold.
The camp was in ruins.
Cabins lay in shambles, their roofs caved in, and the once vibrant fields were now barren, scorched by some unknown force. The Big House stood at the center of it all, its once cheery blue paint now peeling and faded. It looked like a ghost of its former self, much like the rest of the camp.
"Gods," Percy whispered, his voice barely audible. It never got easier, seeing places in ruin.
Percy's heart ached at the sight. Camp Half-Blood had been his home, a place where he had found friends, family, and a sense of belonging. Seeing it like this felt like a punch to the gut.
He'd been to the camp post-war, yet somehow it seemed worse now. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had a mission, and he couldn't afford to get caught up in his emotions. Steeling himself, Percy headed toward the Big House, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He had no idea what awaited him inside, but he knew he had to be ready for anything.
As he approached the front porch, Percy's eyes caught sight of something that made him stop in his tracks. There, sitting on the steps, was an old, battered wheelchair. It was unmistakable.
"Chiron…" Percy breathed, a lump forming in his throat. The centaur's wheelchair was empty, but its presence was enough to send a wave of grief crashing over Percy. He pushed the feeling down, forcing himself to focus.
With a deep breath, Percy climbed the steps and pushed open the front door. The Big House creaked in protest, the sound echoing through the empty halls. Dust hung in the air, and the faint scent of ambrosia lingered in the corners.
"Hello?" Percy called out, his voice echoing through the silence. There was no answer, only the faint rustle of wind through the broken windows.
Percy stepped inside. The interior of the house was just as rundown as the outside, with furniture overturned and papers scattered across the floor. It looked like the place had been ransacked, but there was no sign of a struggle. Just… abandonment.
He made his way to the attic, where the Oracle had once resided. The room was empty now, the old sofa where the Oracle's spirit had once sat gathering dust. Percy felt a pang of loss as he realized that the Oracle was probably gone, too.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling up inside him. He had hoped to find something - anything - that could help him make sense of the prophecy, but it seemed like he was out of luck.
Mrs. O'Leary let out a low growl, her eyes fixed on something in the corner of the room. Percy followed her gaze and saw a faint glow emanating from a pile of papers. He approached cautiously, bending down to sift through the mess.
There, buried beneath the debris, was a single piece of parchment, glowing faintly with a golden light. Percy's heart skipped a beat as he picked it up, his fingers trembling.
The writing on the parchment was ancient, the ink faded but still legible. As Percy read the words, a chill ran down his spine.
"Seven demigods shall answer the call,
to storm or fire the earth must fall,
an oath to keep with a final breath,
foes bear arms to the Doors of Death,
a halfblood of the eldest gods,
shall bear the burden, fell yet awed."
Percy stared at the prophecy, his mind racing. The exact same prophecy May Castellan had given him.
"What does it mean?" he whispered to himself, the words sending a shiver down his spine. The earth must fall… final breath… doors of death…
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him. Percy spun around, his hand on his sword, ready to defend himself.
But when he saw who was standing in the doorway, his blood ran cold.
"Hello, Perseus," the figure said, their voice smooth and cold as ice. "I see you've found what you were looking for."
Percy's grip on his sword tightened as he faced the last person he wanted to see.
Artemis.
Percy's heart pounded as he faced her, her silver eyes gleaming with an intensity that made his skin crawl. She looked as composed as ever, but there was something in her gaze - something dangerous.
He tightened his grip on Riptide, though he knew it wouldn't be enough to save him if things went south. The prophecy he'd just read was still echoing in his mind.
"Artemis," Percy said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides. "Fancy seeing you here."
Artemis took a step closer, her movements graceful and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. "You have a habit of being where you shouldn't be, Perseus," she said, her voice cold and measured. "And now, you've stumbled upon something that was not meant for your eyes."
Percy's mind raced as he tried to figure out what she meant. The prophecy? The ruins of Camp Half-Blood? Was she here to stop him from uncovering the truth? He couldn't let her get in his way - not when he was so close to finding the answers he needed.
"I don't know what you're alking about" Percy said, though he doubted she'd believe him. "I just… I need to understand what's going on."
Artemis's expression remained unreadable as she studied him. "You know more than you let on, Perseus. You've seen the world unravel, and yet you continue to chase after shadows, hoping to find some semblance of the past you lost."
Percy's jaw clenched. "I don't have a choice. This prophecy - whatever it means - it's the only lead I have. If I'm going to stop Kronos, I need to know what's coming."
"Stop Kronos? Are you a fool?"
"Are you a coward?" Percy shot back.
Artemis's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Percy thought he saw a flicker of something - regret, maybe? Doubt? But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold, calculating gaze of a goddess, looking at a mortal who had seen too much.
"This prophecy," Artemis said, her voice low and dangerous, "is not for you to decipher. You are meddling in matters far beyond your understanding, Perseus. If you continue down this path, you will find nothing but ruin."
Percy's grip on Riptide tightened. "I've faced ruin before. There's nothing else, now."
Artemis took another step forward, and Percy could feel the temperature in the room drop, as if the very air around them was freezing. "This is different," she said, her tone almost… pleading? "You don't know what you're dealing with."
Percy's heart skipped a beat at the shift in her voice. "Then tell me," he said, desperate for answers. "Help me understand. You don't have to do this alone, Artemis. We can-"
"No!" Artemis's voice rang out, sharp and final, cutting him off. "This is not your fight, Perseus. This hunt was never meant for you."
Percy recoiled slightly at her words, the rejection stinging more than he'd expected. He had thought, for just a moment, that they might be able to find common ground, that maybe - just maybe - he could convince her to join him, to help him.
But it was clear now that she was beyond reaching, locked into a path that had been laid out for her by forces he couldn't comprehend.
"Fine," Percy said, his voice hardening. "If you won't help me, then stay out of my way. I don't need your permission to do what's right."
Artemis's eyes flashed with anger, but she didn't respond immediately. Instead, she seemed to be weighing something in her mind, her gaze flickering between Percy and the parchment in his hand.
"You're a fool, Perseus," she finally said, her voice heavy with a mix of frustration and sorrow. "But you've always been one."
Before Percy could respond, she moved with lightning speed, her hand reaching out to snatch the parchment from his grasp. Percy barely had time to react, but instinctively, he raised Riptide to block her.
Weapons clashed, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the room. Percy gritted his teeth, struggling to hold his ground as Artemis pressed forward.
"Give it to me, Perseus," Artemis demanded. "You don't know what you're doing!"
Percy glared at her. "Maybe not," he said through gritted teeth, "but I'm not giving up. Not now."
With a burst of strength, Percy shoved Artemis back, the force of the blow surprising even him. She stumbled slightly, caught off guard by his resistance.
For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and Percy saw something in her gaze that he hadn't expected - an emotion so raw and conflicted that it took his breath away.
But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unyielding determination of a goddess on a mission.
"I warned you, Perseus," Artemis said, her voice now devoid of any trace of warmth. "You've made your choice."
"I never had one! You - all of you, the gods, the Olympians. You did this. You raised us to be weapons, and that's what I am now. A weapon."
Artemis's eyes flickered with something akin to regret, but it hardened quickly. "And what will you do with that weapon, Perseus? Will you strike down the gods who shaped you, or will you find a new path amidst the ruins?"
Percy's grip on Riptide tightened as he faced her. "The gods that shaped me are dead, gone, or hiding in cowardice like you. I don't know what path I'm supposed to follow anymore. All I know is that I can't just roll over and let the world fall apart. I owe everyone."
"Do you?" She seemed curious.
"I failed!" Percy shouted. "I was meant to protect them, do what you couldn't - and I failed!"
Artemis's expression remained stoic, but there was a faint tremor in her hand as she nocked another arrow. "You speak of choices, but you fail to see the weight of your decisions. You may think you're fighting for a cause, but you're merely a pawn in a game far greater than you realize."
Percy's anger flared, his voice rising. "Maybe I'm just tired of being a pawn. Tired of being told what I can and can't do. I want to make my own choices."
Artemis's gaze softened slightly, and she lowered her bow, the tension in her shoulders easing. "I once thought like you, Perseus. That fighting against fate would grant me freedom. But freedom comes with its own chains, and defiance often leads to destruction. Look where I am now - a slave, almost."
Percy stared at her, struggling to reconcile her words with the anger and pain that had driven him this far. "If defiance means standing up for what's right, then I'll face whatever chains come with it. I can't just sit back and let everything crumble."
Artemis's eyes met his with acceptance. "Then we are bound by the same chains, in a way. But remember, Perseus, that defiance without purpose can lead to ruin. Be mindful of the path you choose, for it may lead you to darkness."
Percy's breathing was ragged as he stood there, Riptide still drawn.
Artemis observed him with an inscrutable expression, her silver eyes reflecting… something. For a fleeting moment, Percy thought he saw a crack in her cold demeanor, a glimpse of something almost… human. Regret? Understanding? He couldn't be sure.
"I don't want to fight you," Percy said, his voice low but firm. "But I can't just walk away from this."
Artemis's gaze softened, and she took a step back, lowering her bow but not putting it away. "I know you don't, Perseus. And I don't want to fight you, either." Her voice was still cold, but there was a note of something else there - an emotion that Percy wasn't sure how to place. "But this world we live in now… it doesn't leave much room for anything else, does it?" The bitterness in her tone was unmistakable, and it caught Percy off guard.
He had always seen Artemis as unyielding, as someone who was above the pain and struggles that mortals faced. But now, he wondered if that was just a facade, something she put up to protect herself from the horrors of the world around them.
"You've seen more than most," Artemis continued, her voice softer now. "You've survived when others have fallen. But survival comes with its own price."
Percy's grip on Riptide loosened slightly. He could feel the weight of her words settling on him, a reminder of the countless battles he had fought, the friends he had lost, and the burden he carried. "I didn't ask for any of this," he murmured, almost to himself. "I never wanted to be a hero, to be part of some prophecy. But I have, I am, and now… it's like there's no way out."
Artemis nodded slowly. "I understand. We are all bound by forces beyond our control. But you, Perseus, you have a fire in you - a defiance that even the gods did not anticipate." There was a hint of admiration in her tone, but it was tinged with sorrow. She looked at him as if he were both a marvel and a tragedy, someone who had been forged in the crucible of war and loss, and who now stood on the edge of something even darker.
"You think I'm going to destroy myself," Percy said. "That I'm going to make the same mistakes that you gods did."
"I think," Artemis replied, "that you are walking a dangerous path. One that could lead you to ruin, or to greatness. The line between the two is often thin, and once crossed, it's hard to turn back."
Percy looked at her, searching her face for answers, for something that would make sense of the chaos in his mind. But all he saw was the same conflict, the same uncertainty that he felt within himself.
"What are you so afraid of, Artemis?" he asked quietly. "Is it me? Or is it something else?"
Artemis's eyes flickered with an emotion Percy couldn't quite name. "I am afraid," she admitted, surprising him with her honesty. "But not of you, Perseus. I'm afraid of what you represent. You are a symbol of change, of defiance against the old ways. And change, even when necessary, is always dangerous."
Percy considered her words, feeling a strange sense of connection with the goddess. Despite their differences, despite the power she wielded and the burdens he carried, they were both caught in the same storm, struggling to find a way through it.
"What if I don't want to be a symbol?" Percy asked, his voice laced with frustration. "What if I just want to be… me?"
"You don't have a choice, Perseus. You survived, when civilisation crumbled, when the gods fell and the world burned, you walked through it all."
"What I decide to keep walking? What if I ignore all of this, and just live the way I want to?"
Artemis sighed, a sound so human it almost startled him. "Then you are more like the rest of us than you realize."
There was a long pause, a silence that felt heavy with unspoken truths. Percy finally sheathed Riptide, the gesture of shaky trust. Artemis didn't move, but he could see the tension in her stance ease slightly.
"I can't turn back now. Not when so much is at stake."
Artemis nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible motion. "Then we both have our roles to play. But be careful, Perseus. The road you walk is perilous, and there are forces at work that neither of us fully understand."
Percy nodded in return, acknowledging her words without fully accepting them. "I'll find my way," he said, more to himself than to her. "I have to."
Artemis's expression softened, just for a moment, as if she could see the weight of the world on his shoulders and wished she could lift it for him. But the moment passed, and the steely resolve returned to her eyes.
"Then may the Fates be kind," she said, her voice tinged with a sadness that Percy couldn't quite place. "For both our sakes."
She raised her bow, and Percy's heart skipped a beat - because that was where she was aiming. An arrow was mere centimetres from his heart.
Artemis let the arrow fly.
MWAHAHAHA, you shall all be blue-balled by my amazing cliffhangers! Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, criticism, thoughts, and suggestions are all appreciated.
Review responses:
PhantomFuryJP: Thank you so much!
ImHellaUgly: Thanks for the awesome feedback! You're spot on about Percy's reputation - he's basically a legend in this world after defying fate and two Titans. The seven will have a role to play, and Gaia is probably just never gonna rise. As for Artemis, I love your take on her - her obsession with Percy is driving her, and she's definitely not going to let anyone else take him down. The idea of her turning yandere fits perfectly with the vibe I'm going for. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and I can't wait to hear your feedback!
thrasherop: And your review was just as amazing. Thank you!
PenandPaperless: Thank you, can't wait to write more!
som1gun: Really appreciate it!
Guest: Think of it like this: When Percy first saw Artemis during the Titan's Curse, she looked much younger, like a child. When they were fighting Atlas, she appeared older, which is why he sort-of recognised her elder form in chap 1.
NobodyHimOrMe: Thank you for the kind words, hope you enjoy this chapter!
DARK WRAITH 2001: I'm really grateful for the critique, keep it coming! Any ideas on how to improve my foght scenes? Also, Percy's Curse of Achilles problem is explained by Artemis in chapter 2, so you might have to reread that. Thanks again!
Don't be shy to review, I'll respond to everything!
Over and out!