Percy let out a cool breath of air, looking up at the twinkling stars overhead. The night sky was impossibly clear, each constellation vivid and sharp against the velvet black. A crescent moon hung low on the horizon, casting a soft silver glow over the landscape. Chills went down his spine when a soft gust of wind rippled against his clothes, causing him to slightly grimace in pain as he clutched his wounds. Rolling his neck to relieve his aching muscles, he made sure the familiar weight of Riptide was in his pocket and his bandages in place before walking over to the crowd of demigods who were waiting by the vans.
They had stopped a mile out before reaching camp, hoping that was enough distance where they could sneak inside the borders without being sensed. He figured, however, that it was best to wait until nighttime, letting the cover of darkness aid their infiltration. He hoped that idea hadn't cost Will's, Clarisse's, and the Stoll's lives though. If they were even still alive. Approaching the crowd, he could see their apprehensive faces illuminated by the moonlight, staring at him as they awaited his command.
"We ready?" Piper asked, gripping her sheathed dagger's hilt so tightly her knuckles had turned white. The son of Poseidon nodded, his expression determined but grim.
"Everyone remembers the plan, right?" He asked to which everyone murmured their confirmations. The tension was palpable in the air. They all knew this probably was a trap but they had to do it. It wasn't in any of their blood to leave friends behind.
"Check whatever buildings are left standing for supplies and the missing demigods. Try not to get caught and die." Nico replied, the night's shadows coiling around his body in anticipation. He gave Nico a nod, appreciating the morbid humor, even if it didn't do much to ease the anxiety. He was glad the son of Hades was here. Him and his powers should make everything easier, especially since Percy himself was far too injured to be of any real assistance. Not like that would stop him from helping much to the annoyance of his friends. He'd be damned before he laid back and let others risk their lives without him at least being by their side.
"Right. Stick to your groups. If things start getting rough, run back to the vans. Do not and I mean do not play the hero. I don't want anyone meeting the judges of the Underworld tonight."
"What if we find them?" Mac, the son of Mercury, questioned, referring to his Greek brothers, Clarisse and Will.
Percy exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "If you find them and they can move, get them out fast. If they can't…" He hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. "Signal. Nico will get them out with his shadow travel."
Mac gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
"Alright," He said, gripping Riptide, feeling the reassuring weight of the pen in his hand. "Move out."
The demigods dispersed in groups, slipping through the swaying trees like shadows. The green-eyed demigod clenched his jaw, pushing through the pain as he followed his assigned team which consisted of Piper, Butch Walker–a son of Iris–and two Romans. His chest and arm burned where the last fight had left him bleeding and broken, but he ignored it. Walking for a good mile without any problems, he soon noticed the camp—or what was left of it—loomed ahead, broken and battered.
The group stopped for a moment, unable to fully grasp that this used to be their home. There was barely anything left standing that they recognized. Smoke from the battle still curled in the air, mixing with the scent of damp earth and something acrid, maybe the rotting flesh of the dead that still littered the land. The remnants of cabins stood like skeletons in the dark, their charred frames barely recognizable. Percy pushed the feeling in his stomach down as he forced himself to keep moving, carefully weaving through fallen trees. He exchanged a glance with Piper, who swallowed hard but nodded, tightening her grip on her dagger. Butch muttered a curse under his breath, his demeanor darkened by the sight before them. Even the Romans, hardened as they were, looked uneasy. They too knew what it was like to lose a home.
"Check the cabins first," He whispered to the group. "Check to see if there's anything then move on to the Big House."
The others gave silent nods of agreement as they navigated the wreckage with caution. Each step carried them over jagged splinters of wood and scattered debris, remnants of a battle now eerily still. Percy's sharp eyes caught glimpses of shattered weapons, their broken edges dulled by dust, and abandoned shields that gleamed faintly under the cold, distant starlight. The sky stretched endlessly above them, its brilliant constellations casting a ghostly glow over the ruins. Stumbling on something protruding outward from the ground, the son of Poseidon grunted in pain as his wounds flared once more. Looking down, his breath hitched as he eyed a pale, lifeless hand. The skin was cold and pallid, smeared with streaks of dried blood and grime. Its fingers curled slightly as if they had once clutched at something, perhaps a weapon lost to the rubble.
His throat tightened, and he forced himself to look away, his hands clenching into fists. A part of him wanted to kneel, to uncover the rest of the body, to at least put a face to the fallen. But another part—the one that had learned the hard way how cruel war could be—told him to keep moving. There were too many bodies here beneath his feet to mourn."Keep going," he murmured, barely trusting his voice to hold steady.
The others nodded solemnly, their faces grim as they pressed forward. Piper led the way toward the nearest cabin—or what remained of it. The door hung off its hinges, barely clinging to the charred frame. The walls had caved in, and the roof had been blasted away, leaving behind jagged edges of wood and stone. It was unrecognizable, but Percy knew. This had once been the Aphrodite cabin.
The daughter of Aphrodite hesitated for a second before stepping over the wreckage. He followed, his senses on high alert for any movement, any sign of life. His gut twisted at the sight inside—scorched bunks, melted vanity mirrors, torn silken sheets coated in soot. This place, once filled with warmth, laughter and the scent of perfume, now reeked of death.
Butch stepped in behind them, his rainbow-colored tattoo standing out starkly against his darkened, soot-covered skin. "Nothing," he muttered after a quick sweep of the ruined space. "No supplies. No sign of the missing." His jaw clenched.
Piper knelt beside an overturned chest, her fingers brushing over a half-burned scarf. Her expression darkened, but she said nothing. Her grip tightened on the scarf, knuckles turning pale. She swallowed hard, eyes scanning the wreckage as if searching for something—anything—familiar. But there was nothing. Just ashes and ghosts of what once was.
Percy watched her carefully. He knew what this place meant to her. "Pipes…" he started, voice softer now.
"I'm fine," she cut in quickly, stuffing the scarf into her pocket. But the tension in her jaw told a different story. "We should keep moving."
He let out a slow breath, the night air filling his lungs as he carefully walked out of the cabin to check on the others left standing. One specific one caught his eye, its outer walls of gray stone littered with seashells and coral glittering against the pale moonlight. The sight of it almost made his heart stop, a painful weight pressing down on his chest. It was the only cabin that still held some semblance of its former glory, even though it was battered. The roof had been caved in slightly and the walls looked as if one touch could cause them to crumble. But it was still there, standing proudly.
His legs moved on their own accord, carrying him closer to the place he called home for many years. Stepping up on the broken steps, he carefully pushed on the groaning door that was barely hanging on. Inside, the air was stale, filled with the scent of ash and dampness, no longer holding the smell of the sea. Walking further inside, he noticed it was a disaster, the furniture was overturned, the beds were destroyed and the once-beautiful murals of the bronze hippocampi Tyson had made for him were shattered across the room.
"There's nothing here either," One of the Romans whispered, sighing in defeat. The son of Poseidon however paid no heed to his words. He was in a trance, eyeing every little thing that he once took for granted. He hadn't been in here since the night Hera took his memories away and sent him to the west coast. Memories flashed through his head of his time here throughout the years. Most of them had Annabeth in them. He softly smiled as he softly brushed his fingers against his broken bed, remembering the nights she had snuck in to sleep with him.
It felt like another lifetime ago.
Walking past the bed, his eye caught something hanging on the wall. His throat tightened when he saw it. His heart seemed to skip a beat as he stepped closer, the remnants of the room blurring as he focused on the object hanging there. It was the Minotaur's horn. Softly peeling it off the wall, Percy wiped the ash and dust off it as he remembered that night. The night when everything had changed. It was the first time he had truly felt what it was like to fight for something bigger than himself. The horn was a symbol of that—of the struggle, of the loss, but also of his survival. It had been his first real test, and somehow, he'd passed it. He'd survived the impossible, but now, standing in the broken remains of his cabin, with the world around him in tatters, it felt like none of that mattered now.
His fingers tightened around the horn as the memories came rushing back–the rush, the fear, the bellow of that monster. Despite it being one of the worst nights of his life considering he thought his mom had been killed, he wished he could go back and start over. There were so many things he wished he could change, to relive one more time, to not take for granted.
"Percy," Piper's voice broke through his reverie, bringing him back to the present. "We need to keep moving."
He hesitated, gripping the horn that now felt heavier than when he had first held it all those years ago. Turning back to his friends who were already quietly making their way out of the cabin, he knew that he couldn't stay trapped in the past. He knew that if he lingered too long, he would lose himself completely. The present and his people were relying on him. Slipping the piece of history that started his story back onto the wall, he quickly made his way out of the cabin, taking one final look at the room—the broken bed, the shattered murals, the remnants of a life once lived—he whispered,
"Goodbye."
His voice carried out into the wind, faint and fragile, as if he was leaving behind a piece of himself. The person he had been before, the boy who had fought and stumbled and learned, was gone. But the man he had become, the one standing in the ruins of his home, had to keep moving.
And so he did. With silent footsteps and darting eyes scanning for the slightest hint of movement, they made their way to the Big House. He could see the looming structure's silhouette through the darkness as they approached closer. The roof had been caved in and the windows shattered. Despite that, however, it seemed stable enough. Coming to the stairs, Piper was the first to get to the open doorway, her face suddenly becoming tense. Without a word, Percy and the others sidestepped their way out of sight, sensing that something was off.
The daughter of Aphrodite held a finger to her ear, silently conveying that she heard something inside and that it was coming right at them. The men readied their weapons, their grips tightening as they prepared for whatever—or whoever—was about to emerge from the shadows of the House. Percy's heart pounded in his chest, his injuries momentarily forgotten as adrenaline surged through his veins. He exchanged a quick glance with Butch, his eyes wide but determined, before shifting his focus back to the doorway. The sound of footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the faint clinking of metal.
The son of Poseidon didn't have the luxury to see who emerged from the shadows and decided it was best to act first rather than ask questions. Uncapping Riptide, he slammed the figure who finally emerged from the doorway against the wall, his sword ready to slit their throat in an instant.
The unknown figure, a woman judging by the sharp feminine gasp of shock, grunted in pain as Percy's looming figure shifted all his weight atop. Resting his blade on their throat, his narrowed sea-green eyes suddenly widened as he took in the face of the person he was ready to kill.
"Clarisse?" He breathed, his voice a mix of disbelief and relief.
The daughter of Ares stared at him with frightened eyes, her usual fiery defiance nowhere to be seen because of Percy's frightening stature. Once she realized it was him, however, she roughly shoved him off her.
"Get off me, Jackson," She snapped, rubbing her neck where Riptide had been pressed. "You're lucky I didn't gut you."
The towering demigod stepped back, lowering his sword as a sigh of relief escaped his lips. His attention shifted to the commotion behind her, and a flicker of reassurance washed over him as he spotted Will guiding the Stoll brothers forward. Both looked worse for wear—bruised, bloodied, and caked in dirt—but they were alive.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Clarisse asked, annoyance in her tone. "I told you to wait."
"Couldn't," Percy replied, capping Riptide back into his pocket. "Got ambushed by a pack of Hellhounds that were following Chris."
The brown-haired girl let out an involuntary squeak, so unlike the usual demeanor she was known for.
"Chris?!" Her voice cracked, her hands trembling as she stepped closer to the son of Poseidon. "Where is he?! Is he–?"
"He's alive," He interrupted, seeing the panic in her features. "He's with some of the others back at the vans. He's hurt but he'll make it. He ran all the way back to the rest station and got there as soon as you and Will left. He warned us about some grey-skinned monsters?" He directed the statement to the Stolls.
The brothers involuntary shivered as they remembered the horrid creatures that had held them captive. Rubbing the wounds they had received, they both exchanged uneasy glances.
"Those…things," Travis said, his voice somber. "We've never seen anything like them."
"They were human-like," Connor continued, a strange look in his eyes. "Could even speak our language. But they were much stronger. Strong enough to snap my sword in two with their bare hands."
Percy's brow furrowed as he listened. Grey-skinned, relentless, could speak their language and were strong enough to take down seasoned demigods. No monster like that came to mind.
"Did they say anything to you?" He asked.
The brothers nodded their heads, the usual mischievous in their features replaced by a haunted expression.
"They said stuff about a Father, whatever that means."
Percy's stomach churned at the mention of a "Father." The word carried a weight that sent a cold shiver down his spine. He exchanged a glance with Piper, whose face had gone pale. Even Clarisse, who was usually unshakable, looked uneasy. The air around them seemed to grow heavier, the shadows of the Big House stretching longer as if the night itself was listening.
"Father?" Piper repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "As in… the Father? Kronos? Or… someone else?"
Percy shook his head. It couldn't have been Kronos. He had personally made sure that would never be the case again. Whatever this father was, it was something new. Or perhaps something long forgotten.
"We'll deal with it later. I don't like this—not a single one of those gray bastards in sight. Something's definitely off," Butch said, ending their speculation for the time being. He pulled a water bottle from his belt, gave it a sharp shake, and sent a fine mist arcing into the air. Under his breath, he muttered something indistinct, and the group watched as the mist shimmered, transforming into a vivid rainbow that glowed high against the dark sky like a neon sign. It was their signal, telling everyone to retreat back to the vans.
"You guys go," The son of Poseidon said, holding back as the group began to dash toward the woods. "There's still a place I haven't checked yet."
"What?!" Piper fiery whispered, turning back to face him. "The mission is done, Percy. We got them back."
He shook his head, gesturing to the woods past Zeus's fist. "Still got Bunker nine. We came for supplies too so that's our best bet at finding anything."
Her eyes narrowed, frustration evident even in the dim light. "Percy, you can barely stand and you're leaking blood again. You're not going anywhere alone."
"Then hurry up and follow me," He replied, already making his way to the hidden bunker. "The rest of you head back to the vans. We won't be long."
She opened her mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was no talking him out of this. She sighed, glancing at the others. "Head back to the vans. We'll catch up as soon as possible."
The others hesitated, their faces etched with concern, but they knew better than to argue with Percy when he had that determined glint in his eye. With a final nod, they turned and began their retreat, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Piper jogged to catch up with him, her dagger still in hand, eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of danger. The two of them moved quickly but cautiously, their footsteps barely making a sound on the forest floor. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hoot of an owl. Percy's injuries throbbed with every step, but he pushed the pain aside, focusing on the task at hand. Bunker Nine was their last hope for supplies, and he wasn't about to leave without checking it.
As they approached the hidden entrance to the bunker, Percy was relieved to find that the entrance, a massive boulder protruding from a cliff, had remained closed signaling that it was untouched after the battle.
"How are we supposed to get inside," Piper whispered, remembering the stories that only Hephaestus children were ever able to enter and exit the bunker freely. "Me and you both can't move that massive piece of rock."
"Good thing I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," He replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he approached the boulder. Placing a hand on the cold, rough surface of the rock, he closed his eyes and spoke the words that Leo had taught him in case of emergencies.
"Oh awesome and great Leo Valdez. Let me in."
Piper raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. The look on her face quickly turned to shock however when the boulder began to slowly move, allowing them to enter.
"You gotta be shitting me," She whispered, quickly following close behind as Percy entered the dark hanger. Stepping cautiously inside the darkness, the son of Poseidon uncapped Riptide, the faint glow of the sword casting long shadows across the walls. The air inside was cool and damp, carrying the faint metallic tang of machinery and the lingering scent of oil. Walking deeper inside, they noticed rows of workbenches and half-finished projects. Machines and chains creaked dormantly throughout the air, the silence of the bunker amplifying every sound. It felt like a tomb, a place frozen in time since the camp's destruction had forced its abandonment.
"This place gives me the creeps," Piper muttered, her voice echoing softly in the vast space. She tightened her grip on her dagger, her eyes darting around as if expecting something to leap out of the shadows.
"If Leo were hear right now, he'd cuss you out for that comment," Percy replied, his tone light despite the tension. He moved forward cautiously, looking for anything that could be of use. Weapons, medical supplies, or even food though he had a sneaking suspicion the rats got to that first. Approaching a large workbench, his eyes caught the faint gleam of bronze lying on top of the table. Raising Riptide over it, the glow illuminated what appeared to be a sleek, intricately designed pistol. Picking it up, he noticed its surface was etched with ancient Greek symbols and words inscribed on its handle.
"Theoteta." He muttered the word absentmindedly, brushing his hand over it.
"Divinity," Piper translated, peaking over his shoulder. "Looks like a nice gun. Seems designed after a Glock."
Percy glanced up at her, clearly impressed with her knowledge. "Since when did you know about guns?"
"I was a bad girl before I knew I was a demigod," She replied, a small teasing smirk playing on her lips. His eyes were involuntarily drawn to her full, pink lips but he quickly shook his head, forcing himself to focus back on the gun. It was lighter than he expected and perfectly balanced. Releasing the magazine he was happy to find that it was full, containing both celestial bronze and mortal bullets.
"Nine–"
"Nine millimeter." Percy interrupted Piper before she could finish, smirking as he put the clip back and stashed the weapon in his belt loop. "A kid doesn't just grow up in the streets of New York without learning a thing or two."
"Oh, so you were a bad boy back in the day, huh?" She teased, looking him up and down with a sparkle in her eyes.
"I had my moments," He replied with a chuckle before brushing past her and moving deeper into the bunker. The two of them moved quickly through the rest of the bunker, gathering whatever supplies they could find. He managed to find a small satchel of ambrosia squares and small vials of what seemed to be nectar. Piper on the other hand had managed to find a quiver of arrows and a compact bow, which she slung over her shoulder. They also found a few first-aid kits and some weird grey-looking blocks of material wrapped in tape. They both didn't know what it could be but decided to take it anyway.
"Alright, I think we've cleared everything," Percy sighed, standing up after checking some empty drawers. "Ready to head out?"
"Please, get me out of here." Piper replied, eager to leave the damp, dark confines of the bunker. The eerie silence and the faint creaking of machinery were starting to get to her.
As they approached the massive boulder, he paused, glancing back at the shadowy interior of the bunker one last time. It felt strange, to leave behind a place that had once been a hub of innovation and creativity for the camp. But there was no time to dwell on it.
"Let's move," he said, stepping out into the cool night air. But he, along with Piper, were quickly driven back inside when a spear had embedded itself into the cliffside next to them with a resounding thunk! They both ducked back into the shadows and hid beside the entrance, their hearts pounding at the close call. They drew their weapons once more as they scanned the darkness outside for any sign of movement. That was a bad idea however as an arrow sprang forth from the trees, sailing past and causing Piper to whip her head back behind cover.
"We've got trouble," She whispered, her voice tense.
The son of Poseidon cursed under his breath as his grip tightened on Riptide. Of course something bad had to happen. Things were going way too smoothly for the Fates' liking. He peered cautiously around the edge of the boulder, his sea-green eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of their attackers. The moonlight cast long shadows across the forest, making it difficult to distinguish movement from the natural sway of the trees. But then he saw it—a flicker of movement, a glint of metal reflecting against the faint light. His stomach dropped.
"They're surrounding us," Percy muttered, pulling back behind cover. "We're trapped."
Piper's jaw tightened as she gripped her dagger, her mind racing. "How many?"
"Hard to tell," he replied, his voice low. "But I saw at least five. Could be more."
The daughter of Aphrodite cursed under her breath, her eyes darting around the bunker's entrance for any possible escape route. But the only way out was through the boulder, and that meant stepping right into the line of fire. She glanced at Percy, her expression a mix of rising fear and determination.
"We can't stay here," she said. "They'll just wait us out or flush us out. We have to make a move."
Percy nodded, his mind racing. He knew she was right, but charging out blindly would be suicide. They needed a plan—and fast. His eyes fell on the strange grey blocks they had found earlier, still tucked into the satchel of supplies. An idea began to form, risky but potentially their only shot. "Those grey blocks," he said, pulling one out and examining it. "Think they're explosives?"
Piper's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right? You want to blow our way out?"
"Do you have a better idea?" he shot back, his tone sharper than he intended. "Look, we're outnumbered. If we can create a distraction—maybe even take a few of them out—we might have a chance to make a run for it."
She hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and the block in his hand. Finally, she nodded. "Alright but if this goes wrong, I'm haunting you in the Underworld."
Percy managed a small grin despite the situation. "Deal."
He quickly tossed her one of the grey blocks, keeping another for himself. "We'll need to time this perfectly," he said, his voice low and urgent as he rigged a makeshift fuse with pieces of the bandages he had torn off him. "On my signal, we throw these as far as we can in opposite directions. The explosion should give us enough time to make a break for it back to the vans."
"How are we going to light the fuse?" Piper asked
"It's the Hepestaus bunker. There's always a way to make fire." He replied, showing her a small lighter he had managed to find on a workbench.
Once preparations were finished, the son of Poseidon dared to peek out from behind the boulder again, his eyes scanning the treeline. The figures were closer now, their movements more deliberate. He could make out their silhouettes–tall, broad, and the faintest glimpse of grey skin. He cursed once more as he realized his suspicion was confirmed. These were the same monsters that had captured the Stolls.
He exchanged a quick glance with Piper, who nodded, her grip tightening on the grey block in her hand. "Ready?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze.
Piper nodded, her expression apprehensive but determined. "Ready."
Just as Percy flicked the lighter, the orange flickering flame about to ignite the fuse, a familiar voice echoed through the darkness, cold and commanding.
"Percy…Piper…Come out."
The voice sent a chill down his spine, freezing him in place. He recognized it instantly, though it carried a tone he had never heard before—cold, detached, and laced with an authority that made his stomach twist. The daughter of Aphrodite's eyes widened, her grip on the grey block slackening as she exchanged a panicked glance with Percy.
"No way," she whispered, her voice trembling. "That's not possible."
Percy's mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that voice. He knew it better than almost any other. But it couldn't be. It just couldn't. He had seen the body on that fateful day. "Jason," He murmured, his voice barely audible. He stepped forward out into the open, ignoring Piper's sharp intake of breath as she reached out to stop him. "Jason, is that you?"
The forest held its breath, the silence so heavy it seemed to press against the very air, making it difficult to breathe. For a long, agonizing moment, nothing stirred. Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged. His golden hair, streaked with grime and dried blood, caught the faint glow of the moonlight, giving him an eerie, otherworldly aura. His skin was unnaturally pale, smeared with dirt, blood, and strange, inky tendrils that seemed to writhe faintly as if alive. His face was a mask—unreadable, hollow—and his eyes, once a vibrant blue and full of life, now stared blankly through them, cold and devoid of any spark. He was clad in a tattered Camp Jupiter shirt and jeans, the fabric barely holding together beneath the shattered remnants of imperial golden armor. It was the same outfit he had worn on the day he died.
"J-Jason?" Piper exclaimed, her breath hitching as she got a look at her once-dead lover from behind Percy's shoulders. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a chaotic drumbeat of disbelief, hope, and dread. Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she thought she might collapse under the weight of her emotions. Her mind raced, struggling to reconcile the impossible sight before her. Jason. It was him—his face, his hair, his frame—but it wasn't him. Not the Jason she remembered. Not the boy who had laughed with her, fought beside her, and loved her with a fierceness that had once made her feel invincible. This... this was something else. Something wrong. Her voice trembled as she whispered his name again, softer this time, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile reality she was clinging to. "Jason...?"
But he didn't respond. His hollow, lifeless eyes swept over her, unseeing, unfeeling. The inky tendrils on his skin pulsed faintly, like veins of darkness threading through him, and Piper felt a chill crawl up her spine. This wasn't just Jason. This was something corrupted, something broken. And yet, a part of her—a desperate, foolish part—wanted to run to him, to grab him and shake him until the boy she knew came back. Until his eyes lit up with that familiar warmth, and he smiled at her like she was the only thing that mattered. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. She couldn't afford to break down, not now. Not when Percy was standing protectively in front of her, his hand gripping Riptide so tightly his knuckles were white. Not when the air around them crackled with tension, the forest itself seeming to recoil from the unnatural presence before them.
"Piper," Percy said, his voice low and urgent, "stay back. This isn't him. Not anymore."
She knew he was right. She knew it. But the ache in her chest was unbearable, a raw, gaping wound that refused to heal. Jason had been her anchor, her safe harbor in the storm of their chaotic lives. And now, standing there, so close yet so impossibly far, he felt like a cruel mockery of everything they had shared. The son of Jupiter tilted his head, as if studying them, and Piper's breath caught. For a fleeting second, she thought she saw a flicker of recognition in those cold, empty eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by something darker, something that made her stomach churn.
"Jason, please," She pleaded, her voice breaking. But he didn't move. Didn't speak. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating, until she felt like she might drown in it. And then, with a suddenness that made her flinch, Jason's lips twisted into a smile—a cruel, unnatural smile that sent a jolt of terror through her. "
"Piper," he said, his voice a hollow echo. "You shouldn't have let me die."
That was all it took for the floodgates to open. Those words cut deeper than any blade, slicing through her heart effortlessly. Her knees buckled, and she stumbled back, her dagger slipping from her trembling fingers. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked, as she stared at the hollow shell of the man she had loved.
"Jason," Percy stepped forward, shielding Piper behind him further. His sea-green eyes were hard, his jaw clenched, but beneath the steely exterior, a storm of unfiltered emotions raged. "If it really is you. You should know that Gaea was defeated. You helped save the world, man."
The son of Jupiter's dead eyes flickered toward his cousin, the faintest hint of something–perhaps the memory of the battle against Mother Earth–passing through them before vanishing just as quickly. The inky tendrils on his skin pulsed, and his head tilted unnaturally, like a puppet being pulled by invisible strings.
"Gaea… defeated?" Jason repeated, his tone flat, almost mocking. "She was only the beginning of the end."
"The fuck are you talking about?!" Percy called out, anger flashing through his features. For a moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with an unseen energy. The inky tendrils on his skin writhed more violently, as if salivating at the son of Poseidon's outburst.
"You think you've won," He replied, his lips curling into that same unnerving smile. "But the Father has been waiting…watching…biding his time."
"The Father?" The green-eyed demigod stepped forward, gripping Riptide defensively. "You're under his control now?! Is that it?! Who is he?!"
"He's the one that's been forgotten," Jason said, the words sending a chill through the night air. "But no longer. He has arrived and he brings forth the dying light."
Before the two of them could respond, the son of Jupiter's body jerked suddenly, his head snapping to the side as if listening to a voice only he could hear. The tendrils on his pulsed and his expression slated once more.
"The Father's will be done." He said before ordering the monsters behind him to attack.
Immediately, the grey-skinned monsters came out of the shadows, snarling beastly growls as they charged the pair of demigods.
"Percy!" Piper shouted, her voice in panic as she darted back inside the bunker. Percy didn't hesitate to pull out the pistol from his belt loop, firing off three rounds that managed to kill three of the creatures before heading back inside as well.
"Piper, we gotta hurry," he said, his voice also in panic as he grabbed the explosives and lighter. Those monsters were fast and would be inside the bunker at any given second. With shaky hands, he handed her one of the blocks but she hastily refused.
"We can't!" she cried out. "We'll kill Jason if we throw those!"
"We don't have a choice," He shouted back, his voice strained with urgency. "If we don't do something now, we're dead! Jason's already gone, Piper–whatever that thing is out there, it's not him anymore!"
Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head, her hands trembling as Percy forced a block of explosive into her hand. "No, Percy! I can't. I can't. I can't!"
Her pleas had fallen on deaf ears however as he lit both their fuses, forcing her to throw it away as fast as she could out into the forest. The explosives arced through the air, their fuses sputtering as they flew toward the charging monsters. He grabbed Piper's arm, yanking her deeper into the bunker just as the first explosion rocked the night. The force of the blast sent a shockwave through the ground, the sound deafening as flames and debris erupted outside. The walls of the bunker trembled, dust and small chunks of stone raining down from the ceiling.
Percy shielded Piper with his body, his ears ringing as the second explosion followed, the heat from the blast searing even from a distance. For a moment, everything was chaos—smoke, fire, and the anguished cries of the monsters filled the air. His heart pounded as he waited, his grip on Piper tightening. He could feel her shaking beneath him, her sobs muffled against his chest. The guilt gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside. They had no other choice. They had to survive.
"Run!" He yelled, his own voice muffled in his ringing ears. He pulled the daughter of Aphrodite to her feet, his grip firm and steady as they desperately ran outside through the thick dust. The explosions had carved a jagged scar into the forest, leaving behind a smoldering crater and the twisted, charred remains of the monsters that had been charging them. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning wood and flesh, and the heat from the flames pressed against their skin like a suffocating blanket. Percy's eyes darted around, scanning the wreckage for any sign of movement. His heart was pounding, his mind racing as he continued to run deeper into the forest back toward the vans where the others would hopefully be waiting.
Piper stumbled beside him, her face pale and streaked with tears. She was still clutching the empty space where the explosive had been, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Her eyes were wide, and unfocused, as if she were trapped in a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. He tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her forward. "We have to keep moving," he said, grimacing as his wounds began to bleed profusely due to the excessive movement.
Running through the dark forest with only the moon's light to aid them was no easy feat. The shadows seemed to stretch and twist, playing tricks on their eyes as they sprinted over roots and dodged low-hanging branches. His lungs burned with every breath, but he pushed through the pain, his focus solely on getting Piper to safety. He could hear her ragged breathing beside him, her steps faltering every now and then, but she kept going, driven by willpower.
Eventually, by sheer luck, the pair had managed to find their way back to the road where the vans and their friends came into view, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim moonlight. Percy's heart leapt with relief, but the feeling was short-lived. The sound of heavy footsteps and guttural growls echoed behind them, growing louder with each passing second. The monsters—or whatever was left of them—were still pursuing them.
"Almost there!" He shouted, his voice hoarse from exertion. The others were already there in the vans, their faces pale and anxious as they watched Percy and Piper emerge from the forest.
"What the hell happened?! We heard explosions!" Clarisse barked, her spear at the ready as she stepped forward. Her eyes darted between Percy and Piper, taking in their disheveled appearance and the blood staining his clothes.
"No time!" Percy gasped, shoving her into the nearest van. "We've got company—move!"
But before he could climb in himself, a gnarled grey monster lunged from the shadows, its clawed hand closing around Percy's neck. With a brutal heave, it hurled him aside like a ragdoll. The creature turned its attention to the van, its grotesque form scrambling toward the open door, but the demigod was already back on his feet. With a snarl, he grabbed the monster by its head, twisting it with a sickening crunch that left it lifeless on the ground.
Without missing a beat, Percy drew his gun again, firing three sharp shots into the chaos. The bullets whizzed through the air, forcing the remaining creatures to retreat into the shadowy cover of the woods. Heart pounding, he turned to make his escape, his hand gripping the van's doorframe. But something stopped him cold. There, in the middle of the road, stood Jason. His eyes—once dull and lifeless—now burned a vivid, electric blue, brimming with a vitality that hadn't been there moments before. They locked onto Percy's, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to stand still. Jason was back.
"Help… me…" Jason's voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the rumble of the van's engine like a knife, reaching his ears with chilling clarity.
Percy hesitated, his hand gripping the doorframe of the van. Every instinct screamed at him to get in, to drive away and leave this nightmare behind. But the look in Jason's eyes—pleading, desperate—rooted him to the spot. A surge of guilt and desperation tightened in his chest, clawing at his resolve. Against all logic, against every ounce of self-preservation screaming in his mind, he raised his pistol. The barrel trembled slightly as he aimed it directly at Jason's head.
BANG!
The shot echoed through the cold air, sharp and final. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Smoke curled from the barrel of the gun, and Percy's breath hitched as he watched Jason's head jerk to the side. Thick, black ichor oozed from the wound, dripping down his face in grotesque rivulets. The son of Poseidon's stomach churned, his heart pounding in his ears. But then, slowly, impossibly, his cousin's head turned back. His lifeless eyes locked onto Percy's once more, empty and hollow, while that same twisted smile spread across his face—a smile that didn't belong to Jason, not anymore. His blood ran cold as he realized the horrifying truth: whatever this thing was, it wasn't his friend.
"Percy, get in the van!" Clarisse's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. She was leaning out of the driver's seat, her spear in one hand and the other gripping the steering wheel tightly. The engine roared, ready to tear down the road at a moment's notice. But he couldn't move. His feet felt rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on Jason's hollow gaze.
"Percy!" Piper's voice broke through his trance, desperate and pleading. She was leaning out of the van, her face pale and streaked with tears as she tugged on his arm. "Please, we have to go!"
The sound of her voice snapped him back to reality. He glanced at the van, then back at Jason, who was now taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. The monsters that had been pursuing them were regrouping, their guttural growls growing louder as they closed in. He wanted to stay. He wanted to help his cousin. Help end his suffering. But he was beyond saving, at least for now.
With a grimace, Percy turned toward the van and leapt into the backseat just as Clarisse slammed her foot on the gas. The tires screeched against the asphalt, and the van lurched forward, speeding down the dark, empty road. He slammed the door shut behind him, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The others were silent, their faces a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief.
Piper was curled up in the corner of the van, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared blankly at the floor. Her tears had stopped, but her eyes were red and swollen, her expression haunted. Percy wanted to say something, to comfort her, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say?
Clarisse's knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "What the hell happened back there?" she demanded, her voice tight with anger and fear.
Percy shook his head, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "I'm–I'm at a loss of words right now. Just get us as far away from here as you can."
As the miles stretched on and the adrenaline began to wear off, Piper was finally able to speak, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "He said... he said I shouldn't have let him die."
Percy turned to look at her, his heart aching at the pain in her voice. "Piper, that wasn't him," he said gently. "Whatever that thing is, it's not Jason. It's just trying to mess with your head."
She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes again. "But what if it's true? What if I could have done something? What if I—"
"Stop," he interrupted, his voice firm but caring. "You know that isn't true so don't you dare start thinking that."
Piper didn't respond. Instead, she shifted closer, her movements fragile and hesitant, as if the weight of the world had finally broken her. She crawled into his lap, curling into a tight ball, her head resting against the crook of his neck. Her breath was shallow, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm. Percy didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, his hand resting gently on her back. He could feel the heat of her tears against his skin, the faint shudder of her silent sobs. His own body ached—every cut, every bruise, every wound screamed in protest—but he ignored it. She needed him, and that was enough.
The van rumbled on, the hum of the engine a low, steady backdrop to the chaos in his mind. Outside, the trees blurred into a dark, endless wall, their silhouettes jagged against the faint glow of the stars. Percy stared out the window, his gaze distant, unfocused. His thoughts churned, a storm of guilt, fear, and determination. What were they supposed to do now? Where could they even go? The world they had fought so hard to preserve felt like it was crumbling all over again.
He didn't have the answers. Not yet. But as he felt Piper's soft breath against his skin, steadying with each passing moment, he knew one thing for certain: they couldn't stop. They couldn't give up. Not after everything they'd been through. Not after everything they'd lost.
"One step at a time," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rumble of the van. His eyes stayed fixed on the passing trees, their shadows stretching long and dark across the road.
"One step at a time."