Previously..

I woke up with a gasp, my chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath. I was in my bed again, the moonlight filtering through the window. The familiar surroundings of my palace greeted me—but that oppressive feeling, the weight of the dream, lingered.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

What the hell had that been?

The giants, Gaia, Tartarus… It all pointed to something much bigger than what we'd already dealt with.

And for the first time in centuries, I felt a flicker of doubt deep inside me. I wasn't afraid of these giants, or of what lay ahead. I knew my power better than anyone. But this was different. Something ancient and dangerous was waking up.

Chapter 4: The Depths of Legacy

The sunlight spilling through my window feels almost offensive after the dream I had. A dream. More like a vision, honestly. The kind that roots itself in your skull and refuses to let go, no matter how much you wish it would. Gaia and Tartarus, together, shaping monstrosities from raw hatred. Giants, massive, each crafted to counter one of the Olympians. The memory of their forms is burned into my mind, every detail a warning.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the marble floor cold beneath my feet. The air in my room feels heavier than usual, like it knows what's coming. Storm Rider rests against the wall, humming faintly with power, as if eager to be used. Not yet. Hopefully, not today.

I take a moment to compose myself before stepping out. As General of Olympus, appearances matter—even if I'd rather just stay in my room and brood. I walk through the halls, the golden light of Olympus gleaming off the polished surfaces. Gods and nymphs nod respectfully as I pass, and I nod back, though my mind is already at the council chamber.

When I reach the doors, they're already open. Inside, the Olympian council is gathered, their thrones arranged in a semicircle. Zeus sits in the center, radiating authority, his lightning bolt resting against his throne. Poseidon gives me a brief nod, his trident leaning casually at his side. Hera's expression is sharp, as always, though her gaze softens slightly when she sees me.

Artemis is there too, perched on her silver throne. The young goddess looks more composed than she did yesterday, but there's a tension in her posture. She knows something's wrong.

"Perseus," Zeus says, his voice booming through the chamber. "You called this meeting. What is it that demands the attention of the council?"

I step forward, standing in the center of the room. All eyes are on me now, and I take a deep breath, steadying myself.

"Last night, I had a vision," I begin. "A vision of Gaia and Tartarus. They're creating something—no, someone. Giants. Each one designed to counter the Olympians."

The room falls silent. The weight of my words settles over the council like a storm cloud. For a moment, no one speaks. Then, as expected, Zeus breaks the silence.

"Giants?" he repeats, his tone a mix of skepticism and anger. "The Titans have been defeated. Kronos is gone. Gaia and Tartarus should be weakened. How could they have the strength to create such beings?"

"Balance," I say simply. "The destruction of the Titans left a void. Gaia and Tartarus are filling it. The giants… they're their answer to us. If we don't act now, they'll grow stronger, and by the time they emerge, it might be too late."

Poseidon leans forward, his expression grave. "Do you know where they are being created?"

I shake my head. "Not yet. The vision didn't show me that. But I felt their power. It's… raw. Unchecked. It's only a matter of time before they're ready to rise."

Hera's lips press into a thin line. "If what you say is true, then we must prepare. But how can we act against an enemy we cannot yet locate?"

Artemis speaks up, her voice calm but edged with determination. "My hunters can scout the lands. If the giants are being created, there will be signs. Disturbances in nature, whispers among the monsters."

"And I'll search the oceans," Poseidon adds. "If Tartarus has any hand in this, it's possible they're hiding in the depths."

Zeus's eyes narrow, his grip tightening on his bolt. "We cannot act recklessly. If we divide our forces too thinly, we risk exposing ourselves. Percy, do you believe these giants are an immediate threat?"

"No," I reply. "But I know this: they were made to destroy us. If we wait too long, they'll have the advantage. We need to be ready. Together."

The word hangs in the air, heavy with meaning. The gods exchange glances, their expressions ranging from worry to determination. For once, there's no bickering, no petty arguments. Just a shared understanding of the danger we're facing.

Finally, Zeus nods. "Very well. We will prepare. Artemis, your hunters will scout the forests. Poseidon, search the seas. Hephaestus, begin crafting weapons that can withstand the power of these giants. And Percy…"

He looks at me, his gaze piercing. "You will oversee everything. As General of Olympus, this task falls to you."

I incline my head. "Understood."

The council begins to discuss logistics, their voices overlapping as plans are made. But I stay silent, my mind racing. The vision still lingers, a constant reminder of what's coming. Gaia and Tartarus are playing a long game, and we're just starting to realize we're the pieces on their board.

Athena clears her throat, drawing everyone's attention. "We must also consider alliances," she says. "If the giants are to counter us, they may seek allies among the monsters or even mortals. We cannot dismiss the possibility of betrayal."

"Who would dare betray Olympus?" Ares scoffs, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "Let them try. I'll crush them before they can lift a finger."

"Arrogance will not win this war," Athena snaps. "We need strategy, not brute force."

Hephaestus speaks up, his voice a low rumble. "I can reinforce the gates of Olympus, strengthen our defenses. But if these giants are as powerful as Percy says, we'll need more than walls to stop them."

Aphrodite, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, finally chimes in. "What about the mortals? They've fought alongside us before. Perhaps it's time to remind them of their place in this world."

"They are not pawns to be used at our convenience," I interject, my voice firm. "If we involve mortals, it's because they choose to fight, not because we demand it."

There's a murmur of agreement, though Aphrodite merely shrugs, clearly uninterested in the finer points of morality.

Hestia, seated quietly at the edge of the chamber, finally speaks. Her voice is soft, but it carries an undeniable weight. "Unity will be our greatest weapon. If we falter, even for a moment, the giants will exploit it. We must stand together, as we did against the Titans."

Her words resonate, a reminder of what's truly at stake. The council falls silent, each god lost in their own thoughts. For a moment, there's no arguing, no posturing. Just a shared resolve to face the coming storm.

As the meeting adjourns, I catch Artemis's eye. She gives me a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of what's at stake.

I take a deep breath and turn to leave. There's so much to do, and the clock is ticking. Balance must be maintained, no matter the cost.

The council chamber was full to bursting. For the first time in centuries—maybe millennia—every minor god and goddess had been summoned to Olympus. The shimmering thrones of the Olympians lined the walls as usual, but today, the space between was filled with dozens of gods, each radiating their own unique aura.

It wasn't chaos, not quite, but the atmosphere was thick with tension. Whispers and muted conversations filled the air as the minor gods took their places, glancing up at the Olympians and then at me. I stood at the center of the room, flanked by my father, Poseidon, and Zeus, but all eyes seemed to find me anyway.

I raised my hand, calling for silence. The murmurs died almost immediately, and the attention of the room settled fully on me.

"Thank you all for coming," I began, my voice steady but loud enough to carry across the chamber. "I know it's not often you're all called to council, but the situation we face is unlike anything Olympus has seen before."

There was a ripple of unease among the minor gods. I could see it in their faces—the uncertainty, the worry. These weren't warriors, not like Ares or Athena. Many of them held domains that were distant from conflict, things like dreams, seasons, and youth. But they were still gods, and they needed to know what was coming.

I took a breath and continued, my voice firm. "Last night, I had a vision—a vision of Gaia and Tartarus. They're creating something new, something designed specifically to destroy us: giants."

A wave of murmurs broke out. Some of the gods exchanged nervous glances, while others stared at me with wide eyes. I raised my hand again, and the chamber fell quiet.

"These giants aren't like the Titans," I said. "They're stronger, smarter, and each one is crafted to counter an Olympian. They're not just enemies—they're weapons. Gaia and Tartarus want to overthrow Olympus, and they've been preparing for a very long time."

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. I let it linger for a moment, letting the weight of my words settle over the room. Then I continued.

"This isn't just a threat to the Olympians. If Gaia and Tartarus succeed, the balance of the world will collapse. Mortals, immortals, and the very fabric of reality will suffer. That's why we've called you here. We need your help."

There was a pause before Hecate, goddess of magic, stepped forward. Her dark hair framed her sharp features as she inclined her head slightly toward me. "You have my magic, Percy," she said, her voice calm but resolute. "If these giants are being created with primordial power, I'll do everything in my power to counter them."

"Thank you," I said, meeting her gaze. "We'll need your expertise."

Next was Hypnos, the god of sleep, who nodded slowly. "The dreams of the mortals have grown restless," he said, his voice soft and melodic. "If war is on the horizon, I will ensure the dreams of your warriors are peaceful and uninterrupted."

Thanatos, standing like a shadow in the corner, spoke next. "If these giants are destined to die," he said, his voice like the final toll of a bell, "then I will be there to claim their souls."

Nike, the goddess of victory, stepped forward, her golden wings shimmering as she held her chin high. "Victory is never guaranteed," she said, her voice like a battle cry, "but if Olympus stands together, we will not lose. I'll lend my strength to see it through."

One by one, the gods began to voice their support. Nemesis, goddess of retribution, promised to ensure that justice would be served. Hebe, goddess of youth, pledged to restore the strength of any who fell in battle. Iris, the rainbow goddess, offered her services as a messenger, promising to carry news and orders swiftly between Olympus and the mortal world.

As the pledges of support rolled in, I felt a strange warmth in my chest. It wasn't often that Olympus came together like this, but it was happening now. And, for some reason, they were looking to me—not Zeus, not Poseidon, not Athena—to lead them.

"I appreciate your support," I said, letting my gaze sweep over the room. "We'll need all of it—and more. The giants won't wait for us to prepare. They'll strike when they're ready, and when they do, we need to be ready, too."

Zeus stood then, his thunderous presence drawing the attention of the room. "You've all heard what's at stake," he said. "This is not a time for hesitation or doubt. Olympus stands as one, or it falls. Those are the only options."

The minor gods nodded, their expressions solemn. Even the gods who didn't usually involve themselves in battles—Eos, goddess of the dawn, and Clio, the Muse of history—looked resolute.

As the meeting continued, I noticed something that surprised me: the minor gods kept looking to me for guidance. When questions arose—about logistics, about scouting missions, about how to protect mortals—it wasn't Zeus or Poseidon they turned to. It was me.

"How will we find the giants?" asked Triton, who had arrived alongside Poseidon.

"We'll search everywhere," I replied. "Artemis and her hunters will scout the forests. Poseidon will patrol the seas. Hermes and Iris will ensure communication is constant. And Hecate…" I glanced at her. "If you can sense any shifts in magical energy, let us know immediately."

She nodded. "I'll begin the search tonight."

"And what about weapons?" asked Hephaestus, his fiery eyes alight with curiosity.

"I'll need your forge working overtime," I said. "Craft weapons capable of withstanding primordial power. If these giants are as strong as I think they are, we can't afford to hold back."

Hephaestus grinned. "Consider it done."

By the time the meeting ended, every god in the room had pledged their support. The tension was still there—this was Olympus, after all—but for the first time in a long time, it felt like we were all on the same page.

As the minor gods began to disperse, I caught sight of Artemis standing near her throne, Zoë at her side. She gave me a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of the role I'd taken on.

"Good work," she said quietly as I passed.

I nodded. "This is just the beginning."

Her silver eyes gleamed. "Then let's make sure we're ready for what's coming."

Artemis's POV

The council meeting had drained me, more than I wanted to admit. It wasn't the weight of the task ahead that wore on me—no, that was something I'd lived with for my whole life. It was the pressure of being in the room, knowing that Percy had taken the lead. It wasn't that I doubted him—far from it—but there was a part of me that longed for something simpler, something that didn't involve strategizing or worrying about what would happen next.

I found myself in the gardens of Olympus, the cool evening breeze rustling through the trees, the scent of wildflowers in the air. The place always calmed me, even when the world felt like it was crumbling around us. I needed this. We all did.

I heard the soft footfalls behind me before I even turned around. I didn't need to look to know it was Percy. His presence, strong and unwavering, had a way of drawing my attention, even when he wasn't speaking. He was a force of nature, but tonight, it was almost like I could feel the tension easing out of him as well.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice quiet but steady.

I looked over at him, trying to read his expression. His usual intensity was there, but there was a hint of something else, something that felt almost… light? It was strange to see him like this, so far removed from the storm of battle that usually surrounded him.

"Not at all," I replied with a small smile. "I could use the company."

We stood there in silence for a moment, just taking in the peace. It was rare for me to have moments like this, where time seemed to slow and the weight of the world didn't press down on my shoulders. I could feel the forest stretching out behind me, the hum of life pulsing in the air, and I closed my eyes, just breathing it all in.

Percy, as usual, wasn't one for silence for too long.

"You're thinking too hard," he said, his voice still casual, but with that knowing edge that only someone who really understood me could have.

I raised an eyebrow and glanced over at him. "I'm not thinking about anything," I said, though I knew he could see right through the lie.

He didn't call me out on it, though. Instead, he gave a small grin, the kind of grin that was familiar—like he was about to suggest something ridiculous but fun.

"You know, it's been a while since we've had a proper hunt," he said, looking out toward the woods as if he was already mentally preparing for it. "What do you say? You, me—go catch dinner. Just like old times."

The idea caught me off guard. A part of me wanted to decline, to keep the focus on the war, on the preparations. But then again, maybe that was exactly why I needed this. We all needed this—a reminder of who we were before all the chaos. A break from the looming storm.

I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. "You never let me have a peaceful moment, do you?"

Percy's grin only widened. "Never."

I shook my head, but the tension that had settled in my chest since the meeting seemed to loosen just a bit. There was something about the idea of hunting, of being out in the wild, that always felt right. It cleared my mind, grounded me, and made everything else fade into the background.

"Alright," I said finally. "Let's go. But no monsters this time. I'm not in the mood for a fight."

Percy raised a hand in mock surrender. "Promise. Just a nice, peaceful hunt."

I gave him a nod, feeling a sense of calm settle over me. "Let's go. No more talking about war for the next few hours. Just the hunt."

And so we left the palace, heading into the woods that bordered Olympus. The trees were dense here, thick with ancient growth, and the moonlight filtered through the leaves like a soft, silver blanket. It was quiet. Peaceful.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the crunch of the forest floor beneath our boots and the occasional rustle of leaves. The air was cool and fresh, and I could feel the tension of the day slowly melting away with every step.

I didn't speak, just keeping pace with Percy as we ventured deeper into the woods. After a while, the quiet of the night was broken by the soft rustling of something moving ahead of us. I motioned for him to stop, my senses sharpening, the thrill of the hunt kicking in.

Percy looked at me, a silent question in his eyes. I nodded, and we slowly began to move forward, the three of us falling into the rhythm of the hunt. It was like slipping into something familiar, something comforting. We were all hunters, after all.

Soon, we spotted our prey—a stag, tall and graceful, its antlers glinting in the moonlight.

"Let's make it interesting," I said with a smirk. "Whoever gets the shot first, gets bragging rights for the next month."

Percy rolled his eyes but grinned. "You're on."

For a moment, we stood there, poised and ready. The stag, unaware of the gods in its midst, grazed peacefully in the clearing. Time seemed to stretch out, the quiet of the night almost unbearable.

And then, without a sound, we moved.

The hunt was swift and silent, like a dance we had all perfected over the centuries. Percy's skill with a sword was legendary, but he had a hunter's instincts too.

In the end, it was Percy who got the shot, his sword striking the stag with perfect precision. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, I guess that's one month of bragging rights for you," I said, a warmth blooming in my chest despite everything else.

"Better start practicing, Artemis," Percy teased, a glint of triumph in her eyes.

Percy clapped his hands together. "Alright, dinner's on the table. Let's cook this thing before it gets any colder."

As we made our way back to camp, the weight of the world felt a little lighter. We weren't thinking about giants or war or anything else. Just the hunt. Just the simple, quiet joy of being alive, surrounded by those who understood.

For tonight, that was enough.

I stand in the cool, moonlit chambers of my palace, the stone walls etched with intricate carvings that tell the stories of the stars and the hunt. My sanctuary, tucked away in the mountains of Greece, is a place of solitude—silent and timeless. It's a sanctuary built from the quiet moments I treasure, away from the bustling noise of Olympus. Here, I have all the time I need to contemplate, to sharpen my mind, to stay connected to the wilderness that I adore.

The faintest whisper of wind drifts through the open window, brushing against the back of my neck. I inhale the crisp air, the scent of pine and earth mingling with the faintest trace of the sea. I know that the ocean is not far off—always there, always just beyond the horizon, like a force I cannot control but can never escape.

As I turn to move toward my desk, the small golden box that rests atop the surface catches my eye. It's not unusual for things to appear here unannounced, especially from the gods. The air shimmers with magic, and I can feel the power of Olympus reaching through the ether. But this—this feels different. As I step closer, my curiosity piqued.

I open the box carefully. Inside is an invitation, the parchment inside gleaming with a soft, almost ethereal light. It's sealed with the unmistakable insignia of Poseidon: a trident carved into the wax. The letter is for all the Olympians, but I can't help but feel a small pang of surprise.

The invitation reads:

To the Olympians,

You are cordially invited to dine at the heart of Atlantis. The gathering will be held at my palace, where I shall host a feast in honor of our shared victories and the strength of our unity. We shall discuss matters of great importance, but above all, take a moment to relax, enjoy the peace of Atlantis, and break bread as gods and allies.

The dinner will commence at sunset.

Yours in unity,
Poseidon, God of the Seas

The words are simple enough, yet the gravity of them weighs heavy on me. I've heard rumors of Atlantis—the city that lies hidden beneath the waves, its beauty spoken of only in hushed tones. And yet, the idea of stepping foot within its bounds stirs something inside me. There's something alluring about it, a mystery I can't quite place.

I set the invitation aside for a moment, my thoughts turning inward. I've never actually enjoyed my time with my godly family. The weight of the war, the unrelenting struggle, has kept us all so far apart. Even now, with the looming threat of the giants and Gaia, a small part of me longs for the chance to enjoy some time with them.

I glance at the window, my eyes tracing the path of the moon as it rises higher in the sky. Perhaps this is exactly what I need—a brief respite from the looming tension.

With a sigh, I stand, my mind made up. I will go. But not alone.

I reach for my quiver and bow, the familiar weight of the weapon reassuring in my hands. I'll need to prepare for whatever may come. A god does not simply walk into a place as powerful as Atlantis unprepared.

As I finish dressing, the moonlight catches the gleam of my silver armor, accenting the curves and sharp edges of its design. I fasten my belt, securing my hunting knives and a sheath for my bow, and step toward the entrance of my palace. The halls echo with the silent footsteps of my approach.

Just as I step outside, the chill of the night air hits me, and I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the world settle around me. I breathe in deeply, letting the peace of the forest sink into my bones. But as I open my eyes, I catch sight of someone walking through the streets below, their silhouette sharp against the darkened landscape.

It's Percy.

He's walking casually, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he strolls along the stone path. His presence stands out even in the quiet of the night, an unassuming power in every step. He doesn't seem to notice me at first, his gaze cast ahead, the lines of his face soft yet focused.

I smile to myself before stepping off the balcony and landing lightly on the stone streets below. My feet make no sound as they meet the ground, and I approach him quietly, calling out his name.

"Percy."

He stops, his head turning toward me. Recognition flickers across his face, followed by a warm smile.

"Artemis," he greets me with a casual nod. "Didn't expect to see you out here tonight."

I can't help but feel a sense of relief, as if his mere presence can ease the restlessness that stirs inside me. "I'm heading to Atlantis," I say, my tone light but with a hint of something unspoken. "I received an invitation from Poseidon. I thought I might find you wandering the streets."

"Percy," I call, my voice breaking the stillness of the night.

He stops and looks up, his expression shifting from neutral to pleasant as soon as he recognizes me. "Artemis," he says, his voice warm. "I didn't expect to see you out here tonight."

I nod in acknowledgment, a small grin tugging at my lips. "I received an invitation from Poseidon. He's hosting a gathering in Atlantis, and I thought I might stop by."

Percy raises an eyebrow, a playful look crossing his features. "Atlantis? That's a first. I didn't think I'd ever see the day when you'd be interested in attending one of Poseidon's parties."

I laugh softly, the sound echoing lightly around us. "I'm not exactly thrilled about the idea of a grand feast, but… it's Atlantis. I think I'd regret it if I didn't see it for myself."

Percy gives a small nod, his expression thoughtful. "Fair enough. I got the invite too. I was actually planning to head there myself. Why not go together?"

The offer feels easy, and I feel a warmth spread through me at the thought of traveling there with Percy. A small, unspoken camaraderie between us makes the idea even more appealing. I nod.

"Let's go, then."

We begin walking through the streets, and I can't help but feel a sense of ease that only Percy's presence seems to provide. We walk side by side, the path ahead of us lit by the soft glow of lanterns and the pale silver light of the moon. There's a quiet comfort in the simple act of walking together, as if nothing else in the world matters for this fleeting moment.

Soon, we reach the gates of the city, and I can feel the first stirrings of anticipation. The vast ocean beyond the gates is silent, as if waiting for us to enter. The massive doors, made of intricately carved coral and gleaming stone, loom before us.

The merman guards stand at attention, their expressions unreadable as they glance toward us. They do not recognize me immediately, but they see Percy and their eyes narrow. The guard stationed closest to us takes a step forward, his voice low and formal.

"Who approaches?" he calls out, his tone respectful but firm.

Percy steps forward, his usual confidence radiating from him. "It's me. Percy. General of Olympus."

The guard blinks, processing the information, and then the recognition strikes. His expression shifts to one of surprise and respect, and he bows slightly, his voice softening. "Apologies, General. I didn't realize it was you. Welcome to Atlantis."

I watch the exchange with quiet amusement, a small smile tugging at my lips. Even here, even in this ancient city, Percy is still able to make an impression.

The second guard, a bit more collected than the first, steps aside, and with a nod to both of us, gestures for us to enter.

"Welcome to Atlantis, General," he says, his voice tinged with awe. "The palace awaits."

Percy nods in acknowledgment, and I follow him through the gates, my thoughts buzzing with the wonder of what's to come. This will be an experience unlike any other.

The gates of Atlantis close behind us with a soft, melodic thrum, and the cool sea breeze brushes against my face. The air here is different—charged with ancient power, like the city itself is alive, breathing in time with the waves crashing against the far reaches of its underwater walls. The sound of the ocean is omnipresent, a constant hum beneath everything. I look out at the vast, glittering expanse that stretches out before us, my eyes wide with awe.

"Welcome to Atlantis," Percy says, his voice laced with an emotion I can't quite place. He seems as taken in by the beauty of the place as I am, and for a brief moment, I wonder if he feels it—this city is more than just a place, it's something greater, something almost... alive.

We walk forward, side by side, into the heart of the city, our footsteps soft on the stone streets, which shimmer with an almost otherworldly glow. Massive statues of sea creatures and ancient gods line the path, their forms crafted from marble and coral, their eyes carved with great care and reverence. The architecture here is unlike anything I've seen on Olympus—elegant and imposing, yet steeped in a kind of quiet grace that speaks of the sea's timeless nature.

As we approach the palace, I catch sight of familiar faces already gathered near the entrance. Zeus, Hera, Athena, Apollo, and the others—all standing together, chatting softly amongst themselves. They turn toward us as we approach, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and mild surprise at our arrival.

Poseidon stands at the center, his regal posture commanding attention even from a distance. The sea god's presence is as grand as the ocean itself, his hair flowing like the tides, his trident gleaming with an iridescent sheen. He smiles as he spots us, his eyes crinkling with warmth.

"Ah, Artemis, Percy!" Poseidon greets us, his deep voice resonating in the cool air. "I see you've made it. I trust the journey was pleasant?"

I nod, glancing at Percy. "Pleasant enough. But I must admit, I'm eager to see what Atlantis has to offer."

Poseidon chuckles softly, the sound like the deep rumble of distant thunder. "You will not be disappointed, I promise. Come, let me show you."

He gestures for us to follow him, leading the way toward the palace. As we move, the rest of the Olympians fall in line, their conversations fading into quiet murmurs as we head deeper into the heart of the city. The path to the palace is lined with pillars made of gleaming stone and adorned with intricate carvings of sea creatures and gods. The light from the lanterns hanging on either side of the path reflects off the surfaces, casting a soft, golden glow over everything.

The palace looms ahead of us, an imposing structure that seems to rise out of the very ocean itself. Its towers are tall and angular, made from materials that shimmer in the dim light—shells, coral, and glass. It's a stark contrast to the marble and stone of Olympus, yet it possesses an elegant beauty all its own.

As we enter the throne room, the atmosphere shifts. The air is warmer here, filled with a sense of ancient power that hums beneath the surface. The walls are adorned with murals depicting the history of Atlantis—its rise and fall, the stories of its kings and queens, the battles fought beneath the waves. The throne itself sits at the far end of the room, a massive seat carved from a single block of coral, its surface smooth and iridescent, glowing softly in the dim light.

Poseidon moves to his throne, gesturing for us to take a seat. The rest of the gods follow suit, settling into the other seats that have been arranged around the room. Percy and I linger at the back for a moment, watching as everyone takes their place. There's a sense of unspoken understanding in the room, a quiet anticipation. I can feel the weight of it, the knowledge that we are all here not just as gods, but as warriors, allies, and family.

As the last of the gods settle, Poseidon raises his hand, signaling for silence. The room quiets almost immediately, and he turns his attention to us, his gaze warm but authoritative.

"I'm glad to see you all gathered here," he begins, his voice filling the space. "We have much to discuss, but before we dive into the matters of the giants and the threats looming on the horizon, I think it's important we take a moment to enjoy the peace of this city. To remember what we fight for."

His words hang in the air for a moment, and I can feel the tension that had settled over me earlier beginning to ease. For a brief moment, the weight of war, the looming battle with Gaia and the giants, feels a little lighter. This, perhaps, is the respite we all need.

Poseidon gestures to the doors, and they open with a soft, melodic sound, revealing the rest of the palace—glimmering halls, vast rooms filled with treasures, and open spaces that seem to stretch on forever, all bathed in the soft light of the bioluminescent coral.

"Come, let me show you the city," Poseidon says, rising from his throne. "We'll begin with the gardens."

We follow Poseidon through the halls, the walls of the palace giving way to open spaces. As we step into the gardens, I'm immediately struck by the beauty of the place. The air is thick with the scent of saltwater and exotic flowers, their petals shimmering like pearls. Massive trees with silver leaves stretch toward the sky, their trunks twisted and gnarled, their roots burrowing deep into the ocean floor. The flowers here glow softly in the moonlight, casting an ethereal glow over the entire garden.

"These gardens have been cultivated for centuries," Poseidon explains as we walk through the winding paths, "They were created to honor the balance between the sea and the land, the life that flourishes in the depths of the ocean and the life that thrives above it."

I run my fingers along the edge of a flowering vine, marveling at the cool, smooth texture of the petals. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before. The flowers here seem to pulse with life, their colors shifting subtly as if they're responding to the rhythm of the ocean itself.

"The gardens are beautiful," I say, my voice soft with awe.

Poseidon smiles, his gaze fond as he watches us take in the beauty around us. "I'm glad you appreciate them. But this is only the beginning. Come, I'll show you the baths."

We follow him to another part of the palace, where a large, open space awaits. The air is warm and humid, and the sound of water cascading fills the room. The baths are enormous, their pools carved from stone and lined with shimmering mosaics. The walls are adorned with images of ancient sea creatures, their forms brought to life with vibrant color.

"The baths are a place of healing," Poseidon explains as we move toward the edge of the pools. "For both body and soul. The water here has been blessed by the ocean itself, its healing properties unmatched anywhere else in the world."

I step closer to one of the pools, dipping my fingers into the water. It's warm, soothing, and carries with it a sense of power I can feel in the pit of my stomach. There's something about it—something almost primal—that resonates with me on a deep, instinctual level.

"This is incredible," I murmur, my fingers tracing the surface of the water. "It feels like the ocean is in every drop."

Poseidon nods, his expression unreadable for a moment. "The ocean is in all things. In the waves, in the sand, in the wind, and in the water that flows through these baths. It's a part of me, and a part of you, too."

As we continue the tour, I find myself lost in the wonder of it all—the majestic palace, the lush gardens, the shimmering baths. Atlantis is more than just a city; it's a living, breathing testament to Poseidon's power and the beauty of the ocean itself. It's a place that's as much a part of the sea as it is a part of the gods.

Finally, we arrive at the edge of the city, where the ocean stretches out endlessly before us. The horizon is a deep shade of blue, the water calm and serene, a perfect mirror for the star-filled sky above. The waves gently lap at the shore, their rhythm steady and eternal.

"Here," Poseidon says, stopping at the edge of the city and gesturing toward the horizon. "This is where I feel most at home. The ocean is vast, but it is also a part of me. It always has been."

I stand beside him, gazing out at the endless expanse of water. The city, the palace, the gardens—everything fades into the background as I take in the majesty of the ocean. It's a reminder of everything we protect, everything we fight for. And in this moment, the looming threat of the giants, of Gaia, feels distant—almost insignificant.

I glance at Percy, standing beside me. His eyes are locked on the ocean, his expression contemplative. I wonder what he's thinking, what this place means to him.

I don't ask. For now, we both stand in silence, feeling the pull of the sea, of Atlantis, and of the bond we share as gods and allies.

The silence between Percy and I remains comfortable as we gaze out at the horizon. For a brief moment, it feels as though time itself has slowed, the only sounds are the gentle waves lapping at the shore and the distant call of seabirds. I can't help but think that, in all my years of wandering the world, I've never felt as serene as I do now. Here, in Atlantis, the weight of everything else—the giants, Gaia's dark threat—feels miles away, almost forgotten.

Poseidon, sensing our reverence for the scene before us, breaks the silence, his voice soft but powerful. "Come, there's more I wish to show you."

We turn as a group, the other Olympians following us, and head toward the heart of the city. I feel a stirring of excitement again, wondering what more this ancient city holds. Atlantis, with all its mystery, feels like it could keep revealing its secrets for centuries to come. And now, I am privileged to explore it in its entirety.

Poseidon leads us to another section of the city, where the structures become even grander—sprawling palaces built into cliffs that overlook the ocean, their surfaces glinting with coral and shell. The architecture here is a blend of grandeur and functionality, each building designed not only for beauty but also to endure the unpredictable forces of the sea. I notice that many of the structures are adorned with murals, painted with the same iridescent hues as the flowers in the gardens, each depicting stories of Atlantis's founding, its rise, and its connection to the ocean. It's as though the city itself has a heartbeat, pulsing with the legacy of its creators.

Poseidon gestures to a large, grandiose archway that leads into a massive hall. "This is the Hall of the Tides," he explains. "It is where the most important matters of Atlantis are decided—its rulers, its future, and its place in the world."

I step inside with the rest of the group, my eyes immediately drawn to the vast expanse of the hall. The ceiling above us is a dome, a translucent, glass-like material that allows us to look up and see the stars, the water above us shimmering and moving in a slow, undulating dance. The hall itself is circular, with a great round table at its center, surrounded by statues of past kings and queens, each one carved with striking detail. The walls are lined with deep blue tiles that seem to pulse with light, as if they contain the very essence of the ocean's tides.

"This is where the most powerful of our decisions are made," Poseidon continues, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "Where we deliberate on the course of action for our people, and for the entire world of the seas."

I walk further into the hall, running my fingers lightly over one of the statues. It's of a woman, her eyes carved in such a way that they seem to follow me as I move around the room. She is draped in flowing robes, her hands raised as if calling to the sea. There's something about her—a sense of power and grace—that I can't quite place.

Apollo, always one to appreciate art, steps beside me. "Incredible," he murmurs, gazing up at the statue. "There's a certain… elegance in the way they've captured her. It feels timeless."

I nod, still lost in the sight of the statue. "It's as though they're not just commemorating her reign, but the very spirit of Atlantis itself."

Poseidon looks pleased with our reaction. "Yes, that's the goal. These statues are not merely for remembrance; they're designed to remind us of the ideals that Atlantis was built upon—respect for the ocean, unity, and balance."

The rest of the group walks toward the far side of the hall, where Poseidon motions toward another large set of doors. These doors are made of glistening blue stone, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and the very sight of them makes my curiosity surge. Poseidon pushes them open effortlessly, revealing yet another astonishing part of Atlantis.

Beyond the doors lies a long, dimly lit corridor that leads to a cavern. The air here is cooler, and the sound of water dripping echoes faintly in the distance. As we walk down the corridor, I notice the walls are lined with iridescent stones, their glow providing just enough light to guide our way. There's a subtle hum in the air—a strange vibration that resonates through my chest, like the pulse of the ocean itself.

"These are the Sea Caves," Poseidon says, his voice taking on a more reverent tone. "This is where the heart of Atlantis lies, the source of all our magic, all our strength. Here, the ocean's power is concentrated, its energy contained within the very stones beneath our feet."

We step into the cavern, and my breath catches in my throat. The sight before me is almost indescribable. The walls of the cave are lined with gemstones that glow in a mesmerizing array of colors—deep blues, vibrant purples, fiery reds. The light from these stones reflects off the water, creating an almost hypnotic pattern on the cave walls. In the center of the cavern, a pool of water is illuminated by the light, its surface perfectly still, like a mirror.

"This is where I draw my strength," Poseidon says quietly. "The magic of the ocean flows through these waters, and it is here that I am most connected to the sea."

I step closer to the pool, my fingers brushing the surface. The water is cool, like the deepest depths of the ocean, and I can feel its energy swirling beneath the surface, as if it is waiting to be tapped into. It's an exhilarating sensation—an almost primal connection to something so vast and powerful, something that has existed long before the gods themselves.

Apollo, ever curious, steps forward, dipping his hand into the pool. "Incredible," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "It's like the ocean itself is alive in here."

Poseidon nods, his expression contemplative. "It is. And through this pool, we are reminded of the balance between all things. The tides, the waves, the storms—they are all part of us, part of the world we protect."

We all stand in silence for a moment, lost in the weight of Poseidon's words, feeling the power of the ocean coursing through the very stones beneath our feet.

As we move from the Sea Caves, Poseidon leads us through yet another series of winding corridors. The temperature drops as we enter the next area, and I can immediately tell that this part of Atlantis is different. The air smells faintly of saltwater and incense, and there's an aura of serenity in the atmosphere.

"This," Poseidon says, "is the Temple of the Ocean's Heart."

The temple is a massive structure, its walls covered in intricate carvings that tell stories of the ocean's creation and its dominion over the earth. The pillars are tall and made from the same iridescent stone that I've seen throughout the city, and the floor is smooth, made of polished sea glass that reflects the dim light in shimmering patterns.

At the center of the temple is a large, glowing crystal—its surface smooth and transparent, and within it, swirling patterns of light move as though alive. The crystal pulses with a rhythmic glow, each beat of its light resonating through the room like the beating of a heart.

"This crystal," Poseidon explains, his voice reverberating with a deep respect, "contains the essence of the ocean itself. It is the very core of Atlantis, the source of our power, and the reason the city remains hidden beneath the waves."

I step forward, unable to look away from the crystal. There's something deeply hypnotic about it, as though it draws me in, pulls me toward it. I feel a sudden urge to reach out, but I hesitate. There's something sacred about it, something I don't fully understand yet.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, my voice barely audible in the quiet temple.

"It is," Poseidon agrees, his gaze softening as he watches me. "It's what keeps Atlantis safe. What keeps it hidden from the world above."

The tour of Atlantis continues, each new discovery more breathtaking than the last. The city is a place of wonder and mystery, a testament to Poseidon's power, his connection to the ocean, and his desire to protect this sacred place. With each step, I can feel myself growing more captivated by the beauty and the magic of it all.

And yet, even in this tranquil moment, I know that the peace here is fragile, that the looming threat of the giants still hangs over us. But for now, I can't help but lose myself in the splendor of this ancient city, and in the company of those who stand beside me.

Atlantis is a marvel. And I am here, standing at its heart, surrounded by gods who, despite all their power, are still learning what it means to be a family.

After our visit to the Temple of the Ocean's Heart, we continue our tour through Atlantis. Each new corner of the city feels like it's been built from the sea itself—woven with its secrets, its power, and its history. The sheer majesty of it all is overwhelming, and yet, there's a sense of familiarity too.

Finally, Poseidon gestures toward a grand set of doors, their surface carved with scenes of crashing waves and fierce storms, their edges lined with intricate designs. "Now," he says, a gleam of pride in his eyes, "it's time for you to see the heart of Atlantis' Palace—the Throne Room."

The doors open with a reverberating groan, revealing the vast expanse of the room beyond. I stop in my tracks, taking in the sheer scale of the space before me. The Throne Room is even more magnificent than I could have imagined, a perfect balance between grandeur and serenity. The floor is polished marble, veined with silver that seems to shimmer beneath the soft light that flows from the translucent dome above, where the waves of the ocean can be seen gently lapping at the surface. The ceiling arches high above us, and the walls are lined with towering columns, each carved to resemble the ocean's many creatures—dolphins, whales, sea serpents—each one immortalized in intricate detail.

The thrones are arranged in a half-circle, with Poseidon's throne placed at the center, commanding the room. His seat is made of gleaming coral and ocean stone, with delicate veins of pearl that shimmer in the light. It's a throne that is as much a part of the sea as Poseidon himself. I can feel the power of it even from a distance, a palpable force that hums through the air, like the call of the tide.

To Poseidon's left, there is another throne, equally grand but slightly smaller. It is made of a darker stone, engraved with patterns of waves and sea creatures, and in the seat sits a woman—her hair long and flowing, the color of deep seaweed, her eyes a piercing shade of green that remind me of the ocean depths. She rises as we enter, her presence calm yet regal, her smile warm.

"Welcome to Atlantis," she says, her voice like the soft roll of a gentle wave. "It's good to have you here."

Poseidon gestures toward her, a proud smile on his face. "This is Amphitrite, my wife, Queen of the Seas."

Amphitrite steps forward, her demeanor graceful and serene, a presence as calming as the sea itself. She offers each of us a soft smile and a respectful bow. I can see the deep bond between her and Poseidon, the unspoken understanding that passes between them. It's a reminder that even gods, powerful and immortal as we are, still form connections that transcend time and titles.

"It's an honor to finally meet you all," Amphitrite says warmly, her gaze lingering on each of us. "I hope you'll find Atlantis to be as welcoming as it is beautiful."

Apollo, always the charmer, steps forward with a grin. "The honor is ours, Your Majesty. This city is unlike anything I've ever seen. You've truly outdone yourself."

Amphitrite chuckles softly. "It's Poseidon's doing more than mine. But I will take the compliment."

Poseidon's eyes soften as he looks at her, his pride in her evident. "Atlantis would not be what it is without Amphitrite. She's kept the city thriving while I've been... preoccupied."

I can't help but smile, appreciating the tenderness in Poseidon's words. It's rare to see the gods—especially someone as formidable as Poseidon—show such vulnerability. It reminds me that, for all our power, we are still beings bound by relationships, by love and duty.

Poseidon motions to the empty thrones around the room. "These," he says, "are the thrones of the other Sea Deities. Each one is a representation of their power, their domain over the world and the sea. "Each one represents a deity with dominion over various aspects of the ocean—winds, currents, deep-sea creatures, storms… they are all integral to the balance of the seas."

The first throne on the left catches my attention—a dark, brooding seat made of jagged obsidian, etched with symbols of the deep abyss and stormy seas. "This is the throne of Triton," Poseidon continues, gesturing toward it. "God of the deep and protector of the oceans' darkest corners."

I can sense the fierce power that emanates from the throne, a reminder that not all sea deities are as gentle as the calm waters of the shore. The seat is powerful, fierce, as if demanding respect.

Next, Poseidon points to the throne beside it, crafted from a delicate but striking pale blue stone. "This is Nereus," he explains. "The Old Man of the Sea. He governs the peaceful, nurturing aspects of the ocean and is known for his wisdom and guidance."

Unlike Triton's, Nereus's throne exudes a tranquility that contrasts sharply with the first. The stone seems almost alive, the patterns resembling seafoam crashing against the shore, a harmonious energy radiating from it.

We move on to the next throne, which is built from coral that almost appears to glow with a faint golden hue. The seat is intricately designed with tendrils of seaweed-like patterns, a reflection of the flora that fills the ocean's depths. "This," Poseidon says, "belongs to Amphitrite's younger sister, Panopea, the goddess of underwater plant life and the protector of coral reefs."

Her throne is serene, peaceful, but there's an undeniable sense of guardianship in the air, as though the very ocean life teems with her influence. I can almost imagine the reefs of Atlantis flourishing with the life that Panopea protects.

The next throne is carved from what seems to be black, glossy stone that gleams under the light. It is adorned with twisting patterns of whirlpools and deep-sea creatures, a beautiful, eerie seat. "That is Ceto's throne," Poseidon says. "Goddess of sea monsters and all the dark forces that dwell in the depths. Her role in maintaining the ocean's balance is not one to be underestimated."

There's a chilling undertone to Poseidon's words, a gravity that makes me step back a little. I don't particularly want to meet Ceto. I'm not fond of the monstrous side of the seas—there's something too wild and untamed for me there.

And then, my eyes fall on a throne that is different from the others. The first throne on the right of Poseidon's. At first, I think it's just another seat—large, well-crafted—but as I step closer, the recognition hits me with a shock. The throne is set apart from the others, it is made of coral, but the patterns are different—sleeker, more intricate. It's a fusion of blue and silver hues, designed to look like the waves of the ocean crashing against a cliff. And on the front, the most unexpected sight: an engraving of a trident, crossed with a sword. The words Perseus, Champion of Atlantis are carved with reverence beneath it.

I freeze for a moment, staring at the throne, my thoughts suddenly a whirlpool of confusion and realization. This throne... this is Percy's.

I glance at him, and he's standing still, looking at it too. There's a slight hesitation in his posture, something I've rarely seen in him—uncertainty, almost. But when I meet his eyes, he's quick to shake his head, as though to dismiss whatever emotions might be stirring.

"I didn't expect to see it here," he says quietly. "I haven't sat in that seat in... well, forever."

I blink, taken aback. "I had forgotten," I admit, my voice soft. "That you're the Champion of Atlantis."

Percy nods slowly, his gaze fixed on the throne. "It's not something I really talk about," he says, his voice almost a murmur. "Not unless it's necessary. I don't invoke the title often."

I raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "Why?"

Percy shrugs, and despite the seriousness of the moment, there's a hint of a wry smile on his lips. "It's not really my style. I don't need a throne to know my place in the world."

He pauses, glancing at me, and there's an unspoken understanding between us—this isn't just about the title, but about the burden of it. Being Champion—of Atlantis, of Olympus, of anything—isn't as simple as it seems. And for Percy, it's more than just a title; it's a responsibility, a weight he doesn't always carry easily.

Poseidon, noticing the shift in the room, steps forward with a smile that's both knowing and gentle. "The title of Champion is not one easily worn, but Percy has earned it," he says, a note of pride in his voice. "When Atlantis was in its darkest hour, Percy fought for its survival. That seat is a reminder of his bond with this city and the strength he brought to it."

I glance back at the throne, my thoughts swirling. I can't quite grasp the depth of what it must mean to Percy. To be the Champion of Atlantis, but to never fully claim the title. It makes sense, in a way. Percy's power is never about titles—it's about what he does, what he stands for.

For a moment, the room falls silent, as if the weight of the throne itself is enough to hold us in place.

Then, Poseidon's voice breaks the quiet. "But for now, we enjoy the peace, my friends. We have much to celebrate."

Amphitrite nods, her eyes softening with a smile. "Indeed, we do."

I glance at Percy once more, silently wondering about the man standing beside me, the Champion of Atlantis, the son of Poseidon, and yet, so much more than just those titles.

And in that moment, as I settle into my own throne and the other gods take their places, I know that this—this unity, this shared understanding—is what makes us strong. Not the thrones we sit on, but the bonds we've forged through time and battle.

I made a discord server! So if you want to directly interact with me, you can do so by joining the discord server. Link here: . g g / (Remove Spaces).

As always, thanks for the support on the story. As always constructive criticism is always appreciated, if you have any questions/suggestions, leave a review down below!