Update:
This chapter marks the final one for a while. For those of you familiar with my other works, they are currently on hiatus. I plan to revisit and rewrite them eventually, but for now, my focus will be on this story and one other. The second story, currently untitled, will be a reimagining of Rick Riordan's main series (from The Lightning Thief to The Last Olympian), incorporating Heroes of Olympus characters from the start and adding new themes and elements.
As we move to this conclusion, I wanted to outline my goals. This chapter will primarily set the stage for Book Two. I've included more scenes from Zeus's point of view, as I believe his character needed significant rehabilitation. From the beginning, I aimed to reshape him into a figure that, if not entirely good, is at least no longer fully malevolent. Hestia's ascension to the council has helped steer him toward a more balanced path.
In Book Two, the focus will be on the distribution of domains and spoils, the rise of new gods, and the rewriting of divine laws. This transformative process will be central to the story. My inspiration comes from the Congress of Vienna—a pivotal historical event that determined Europe's fate and created an order lasting nearly a century, led by the skilled diplomat Klemens von Metternich. This event was both a significant political gathering and a grand celebration where power was consolidated by oligarchs, monarchs, and aristocrats. It was a mix of strategic discussion and indulgent revelry—a fascinating look at power when it's centralized in the hands of a few. This dynamic fits the Olympian gods perfectly.
Book Two will explore the forging of kingdoms and alliances—Where empires are forged, and alliances made—whether on the dance floor, between the sheets, or over drinks.
Since this is the last chapter for a while (a few weeks at most), it will be an extended one, and I hope it leaves you excited for more.
As I plan to reorganize my story, (Done) I'm considering adding new scenes from Percy's perspective during the main series to deepen his character arc. I'm debating whether these scenes should be included as flashbacks in future chapters or woven retroactively into earlier parts of the story. My initial thought is to use flashbacks so readers won't need to go back and re-read previous chapters. However, I'd love to hear your input—what do you think would work best?
Chapter 9: A God Is born
The gods watch:
Percy's defiance blazed like a dying star, fierce and unyielding. But in the end, Thoon's hands closed around him, and with a final, crushing squeeze, that light was extinguished. Percy's body lay broken, twisted, the life that had once filled him drained away, leaving only the cold, brutal silence of an ending. All he had been, all he had fought for, lay as fragments, scattered and unreachable.
His friends and family stood in shock, horror carved into their faces. They seemed frozen, caught in a breath that would never finish, a moment stretched unbearably thin, unable to turn away from the sight of him. Grief settled over them like a suffocating fog, clinging to every trembling leaf, every shivering blade of grass. Around them, the world felt different, as if the earth itself was holding its breath, too stunned to resume the rhythm of life.
Somewhere nearby, a breeze picked up, whistling a low, haunted note through the trees—a sound that sank into their bones, cold and sharp, drawing out the depth of their loss. It was a soundless scream, a cry that rippled through the ground beneath them, through the sky above, reaching out as if to grasp something that had already slipped away.
Overhead, thick clouds began to gather, dark and swollen with unspent wrath. Lightning flickered and curled within, but never struck, trapped in an agonizing suspension, The heavens themselves seemed bruised, battered by grief, every layer of the sky bearing the mark of a wound it could not heal. The ocean rose, its waves surging forward, as if straining toward the shore, as if clawing at the boundary between life and death, its waters churning in a relentless desperation that could only lead to more ruin. Farther above, the moon dimmed, its light veiled, casting a sallow glow as if hiding its face from the world, as if it was in mourning.
Their sorrow was primal, too deep to grasp, too vast to contain. It seeped into the earth, into the wind, filling every hollow space until it weighed down their hearts with a crushing finality. Breath turned into a struggle, chests heaving as if each gasp of air might somehow break the silence, might somehow deny what had been taken from them. They stood hollowed out, every heartbeat pulsing with the hollow ache of the space Percy had left behind. And yet, somewhere beneath the sorrow, something harder began to stir, sharper, like the edge of a broken blade that could never again be mended.
The ground quaked beneath their feet, a tremor that pulsed with the heartbeat of something ancient and broken, each rumble resonating like the death throes of the earth itself. Thunder rolled across the heavens, not with its usual ferocity but with a raw, guttural sound—deep, almost primal—crawling through the sky like the voice of something wounded, uncontainable, and very, very angry.
The ocean mirrored this rage, churning and thrashing with a savage, untamed energy, waves slamming into the shores with a vengeance that defied reason. The water foamed, whitecaps frothing like the mouths of rabid beasts, each surge smashing against the rocks as if trying to claw its way inland, desperate to fill the empty space that Percy's spirit had left behind. Above, the sun, once a source of warmth and light, now bore down like an accusing eye, its heat growing sharper, harsher, no longer gentle but a searing, relentless force that burned rather than comforted.
The gods stood arrayed in silence, their faces hardened, their eyes reflecting a sorrow that was raw, filled with a frigid rage, that seeped from the heart to infect the whole self. It was something colder, sharper, something that felt a lot like spite. It was a look that spoke of scorched earth, of poisoned wells and razed fields, of a people who would sooner burn their own world to ashes than see it fall to lesser hands.
Nyx:
So it begins, she actually did it, her last chance at survival. I'm happy, and so is Ananke, poor Tartarus is about to be a widower. So very sad. I hold his body, the battle paused, for just a moment. Ananke and Astraeus pool their skill together. All to give me this moment. He is beautiful even now, broken, defeated... dead.
It's finally time my sweet little destroyer. Soon you shall swim, and rise once more, to finish this stupid battle, this stupid war. And then my dear? Then the fun begins...
A New God is Born:
At the edge of the Abyss, they gathered—ancient beings, children of an eldritch mother whose touch predated all creation. Primordials beyond gods and demigods, assembled in uneasy silence, as if awaiting the birth of something terrible.
Nyx stepped forward, cradling a broken body—the demigod who had defied Thoon and Gaia, who had fallen beneath the weight of their power. A mortal boy's courage, futile against the vastness of such ancient might, lay in her arms. She held him with an unnatural tenderness, reverent as she placed him at the precipice, her face softened in a look of pained devotion.
Ananke's voice cut through the stillness, satisfaction lacing her words. "Even now, she rages against us." Her gaze shifted toward the Abyss. "She claws at Astraeus's and my hold on time—she can feel what we're doing. And she is afraid."
Tartarus stepped forward, his colossal form casting a shadow over the body at the edge of the chasm, where existence bled into nonexistence. Leaning down, his voice softened into something raw, stripped of his usual pride. "I didn't know," he murmured, fear and regret bleeding through. "I would never have struck at you, not had I known. Please… give me this chance. Give us both a chance."
He stepped back, and Nyx moved closer, her face veiled with shadows, unreadable. She murmured, almost a lullaby, "I once told you that you weren't ready to enter the Sea of Chaos, that you had to wait." She placed her hand over his still chest, her voice a whisper that brushed against the silence. "The time is now." With that, she released him, her hand lingering a moment before pushing his body into the dark waters, letting it drift toward the unknown.
Ananke came forward, producing a card woven from the strands of fate itself. She placed it on his chest. It bore a single word, blazing with an eerie glow: Perseus. Beneath it, an image: a roiling sea, black and emerald, a man at its heart, sword raised, eyes blazing with a fierce, uncontained wrath. The card pulsed, as though rebelling against its own permanence, shimmering as if alive.
Her voice held a chill that cut through the depths. "This is your kingdom now, Perseus. Purge it of the blight that dares defile it. Close your heart to her lies, harden yourself, and avenge both of us."
His body drifted out, crossing the threshold where being meets unbeing. As it began to sink, Nyx lifted her voice in a song—a haunting, ethereal hymn that wove through the emptiness. Ananke joined her, her voice threading into the air like silver filaments woven through shadow, delicate yet unbreakable. Each note rippled outward, not merely sound but pulses of raw, ancient power, binding the very fabric of existence, tightening it, pulling it into alignment with her will. Her words were more than a song; they were woven promises, indestructible oaths, a lament that spoke of inevitability, binding every fragment of reality to an unbreakable path, tethering all that is and all that could be to a relentless march forward. Their voices resonated in a language not heard by the gods of Olympus or the world above, a language forged in the cradle of the cosmos, born in a time before strife. It was the language of creation, welcoming something new, something never seen before.
Their voices rose, joined by the other Primordials, a chorus of birth and transformation. And as the final note faded into the silence, something surged from the Abyss—a raw, uncontainable force rippling outward. Power rushed from the Sea of Chaos into Nyx's realm, cascading through the depths of Tartarus, roaring up the rivers into Erebus, spilling out to the world above, shaking the seas of Pontus and Thalassa, crashing through Gaia herself, before finally reaching the highest realms of Aether, Hemera, Ouranos, and Astraeus.
The waters of Chaos churned, black tendrils intertwined with a venomous green, like coiling serpents in an endless, violent dance. And from that roiling sea, he rose.
His eyes blazed with a venomous green fire, tearing through the fabric of reality with a fierce, unrelenting gaze that seemed to strip the world bare, laying every hidden truth open before him. The light in those eyes was more than rage; it was hatred refined to something elemental, deeper than mortal grief, ancient and boundless. His hair, wild and untamed, cascaded past his shoulders in intricate braids woven with threads of gold, each braid flickering with faint embers, magma falling off him like raindrops, as if he rose from some mighty volcano.
Draped over his shoulders was a cloak of white wolfskin, its surface marked with runes of a forgotten tongue, each symbol carved with a purpose long lost to time, yet alive with a latent, unreadable power that pulsed faintly, as though waking to the presence of its lost master. He was a force reborn, clad in primordial rage.
Carved deep into his chest was a sigil, a mark etched into his flesh: a half-moon silhouetted behind a golden sword, shrouded in flames of obsidian and emerald, raven-like wings unfurling from its edges, dark and ominous, hungry shadows ready to take flight. In his grip, Riptide blazed, its blade coiling with dark fire, a molten obsidian that oozed and twisted as though it had a life of its own. The flames bent the very air, twisting reality itself in restless anticipation.
The void around him pulsed, bending, shifting, reshaping itself to his will. Shadows twisted into forms both beautiful and monstrous—a massive wolf with hollow, hungry eyes; a gleaming golden Pegasus, its mane aflame with silver; a storm of ravens, their feathers a blur of midnight that burst apart into wisps of shadow. Each shape seemed to obey him, manifestations of something primal, tethered to his very essense.
As he looked down upon the Primordials, a raw and ancient wrath blazed within him, pulsing like a furnace at the core of his being. That fury—a force beyond anything mortal or godlike—radiated from him, sending a tremor through even the oldest among them. Here, at the precipice of the Sea of Chaos—no, his sea—the very essence of destruction rippled through him, absolute and unchecked. In this place, under the watchful silence of his realm, he held the power to unmake them all.
For the first time, the ancient beings felt the touch of true fear, their hearts gripped by a terror they had only known at the hands of their creator. They, who had existed unchallenged, now saw in this resurrected figure a force capable of annihilating them.
His voice, low and resonant, cut through the silence like thunder over a battlefield. "Where are they?" Each word carried the weight of a command, a darkness that pricked the air with dread. Trembling, Nyx raised a hand and pointed toward a twisted, nascent realm—a place newly forged, yet tainted by corruption: the Realm of Change, Thoon's sanctuary. Her finger shifted, pointing back to Gaia, the Earth he had left behind, tethered still to his mortal ties.
He nodded, his eyes hardening with a fire that ignited his purpose, and without another word, he turned from them, stepping away from the precipice of Chaos and toward his final reckoning. The Primordials scattered, vanishing from the shadows, the once-neutral ground now a place of vulnerability. They retreated to their own realms, fortresses where their power ran deepest, each preparing for the battle they knew was coming, each shaken to the core by the birth of something they had never imagined—a monster forged from beauty and vengeance, the boy who had returned, now a force unbound.
Thoon:
I was crafting the world, each sweep of my hand cementing my utter dominion over reality itself. My fingertips shaped the very threads of existence, bending them to my will. Porphyrion as king? The thought was laughable! That thick-headed oaf couldn't even manage a half-blood son of Zeus. No, the crown, the throne, the future—everything would be mine. Why should I settle for anything less?
And why should I share the finest beauties of Olympus with anyone else? I shall have them all, the regal pride of Hera broken, Athena's mind enslaved, Artemis, the joy and fun of her will and defiance being broken beneath me to delicious to pass on, Hestia her warmth for me alone, Demeter, Amphitrite, Hecate—their power, their beauty—all of them would kneel. And why stop there? Helen, Cleopatra, every mortal queen and goddess of legend would be at my feet. A true king deserves the best of all realms, and I would take it.
In my vision a fortress rose, one that defied reason itself—a stronghold gleaming like a blazing sun, towering above Olympus, a palace carved from the purest gold. The walls shimmered with a light stolen from conquered stars, and I, at its center, seated on a throne that pulsed with the world's heartbeat. Below me, an army of enslaved heroes, bound to obey, each one a name that echoes through history—Alexander, Achilles, Hercules—all under my command, their legendary power twisted to serve my will. Even Zeus would grovel at my feet, his once mighty form reduced to nothing more than a footstool.
I could see it all, breathe it in. A perfect world, forged in my image, radiating with the weight of my control. Every last piece was just as I desired—beautiful, flawless, eternal.
But then I felt it—a shiver, cutting to the marrow, slicing through my visions of grandeur like a scythe of of frozen dread. Something was here, something vast and consuming, pressing into my perfect realm with a presence that made my skin crawl. This place, my new realm, my new sanctuary, where I ruled with absolute authority, had become foreign, twisted. My eyes darted across the golden landscape, but instead of glory, I found emptiness creeping in, a creeping nothingness. This wasn't darkness, which still has weight, substance. This was a void, a hollow absence that swallowed everything, erasing it as though it had never been.
It moved, twisting in on itself, spiraling inward, and each turn brought it closer to me, with a purpose I could feel. I rose, feeling my mother's power writhe within me, still hot and churning from when she'd last touched me, granting that surge that had let me snuff the life from that miserable boy. Since then, I had felt unstoppable, untouchable. But now, as I reached out for her, seeking even the faintest thread of her presence, I found…nothing. No whisper, no warmth. Only silence. She was gone, absent from this place. I was alone.
The void snaked closer, not darkness but something deeper, more ancient—an erasure so complete it silenced even the fate I now controlled. It twisted around me, a fog of nothingness, smoke that didn't drift but moved with intent, coiling, reaching, sinking its invisible teeth into the edges of my realm as though it had come to claim it, to consume it whole. And I felt its hollow eyes on me, felt the hunger within it.
A surge of rage flooded through me. How dare it intrude, here of all places, in my dominion! I raised my hand, summoning the searing power mother had gifted me, releasing it in a furious, explosive burst meant to obliterate anything in its path. The energy roared forth, lancing into the void, a force that could level armies, and sunder mountains. The flames hit the creeping smoke, erupting outward, ravenous and fierce—only to vanish, swallowed without resistance, disappearing into that silent emptiness as though it had never existed at all.
Panic stirred in my chest. This wasn't just an absence. It was something that consumed the very notion of existence, erasing my power with a single, insatiable hunger.
The void coiled closer, silent, indifferent, ravenous…..
And then, from the silence, a voice echoed, low and endless, the sound reverberating through every corner of my realm. "I see you."
Cold, venomous green eyes flickered to life in the shadows, glowing like shards of malignant emerald. They locked onto me with an unblinking, ravenous hunger, sizing me up as though I were prey. And as I watched, they multiplied—hundreds, thousands—each pair slicing through the darkness, stripping away my confidence piece by agonizing piece, until all that remained was a raw, gnawing dread.
The silence fractured, a deep, feral growl reverberating through the void, a howl that vibrated through me like a physical force. The caws of ravens echoed in harsh, piercing cries, their voices layering into a discordant, twisted symphony that clawed its way into my mind. Hooves thundered rhythmically, relentless and deafening, as if some unseen beasts were closing in, pounding against a ground that wasn't there, defying all reason and sense.
The air turned frigid, each breath hanging thick and frozen, dissipating into the void as it closed in, filling every corner of my awareness. A chill settled over me, colder than any winter, a chill that seeped into my bones, crushing with a weight—a desolation—that pressed deeper into my chest with every second. I felt it closing around me, a devouring emptiness, as though every last light had abandoned me to some eternal night, a place where even shadows could offer no sanctuary. Shapes began to form within the dark, monstrous and incomplete, gleaming teeth and blazing eyes filled with a ravenous, unending hunger.
The eyes, relentless and merciless, drew nearer, and I felt myself sinking, a prisoner in a cage without walls, ensnared by a void that seemed to swallow everything. They stared into me, through me, as if they already knew how best to take me apart.
Every instinct within me screamed to flee, but I was paralyzed, rooted to the spot by that cold, calculating gaze. I was caught, chained by a darkness that seemed alive, a monstrous hunger encircling me, promising to strip my bones clean, to feast on my soul, to consume everything I am.
The voice wrapped tighter, a suffocating shroud of malice that seemed to seep into the marrow of my bones. "You are in my realm, forsaken child," it purred, a whisper layered with venom. "Do you know what I see?"
The question loomed, thickening the air, pressing down until it felt as if it might crush me into the earth itself. I swallowed, forcing out the words that felt like gravel in my throat. "What… what do you see?"
It answered, chilling and slow, each word a shard of ice pressed against my skin. "I see you swallowed whole," it murmured, the words sinking deep, settling like lead in my chest. "I see you unmade, piece by piece, until nothing remains. I see your soul slipping away, scattering like ash, leaving not even a trace for memory to hold."
The darkness pressed in, a living force that constricted with each breath, filling my lungs with an emptiness that ate away, and it felt as if I was breathing in acid.
"Your brothers, your sisters—drawn into my abyss." Its voice crackled with dark delight. "Frozen in horror, their final moments etched in terror, that single moment of agony stretched into eternity."
The air around me turned to ice, the shadows tightening, clawing deeper with every syllable, every drop of venom in its tone.
"Nothing of you will remain," it intoned, cold and final. "The abomination of Gaia, erased as though it never was."
The words lingered like an executioner's verdict, ringing in my ears as if chiseled into the darkness itself. And as they echoed, I felt it—an emptiness pulling at me, a hollowness deeper than fear, deeper than pain. It was the sensation of falling without ground to catch me, of being devoured piece by piece.
I forced myself to fight, to lift my sword, though it felt too light, too small, a useless scrap of metal against the darkness closing in. My hands trembled, fingers slick with sweat, gripping the hilt with every last shred of strength I had left. "Who…who are you?" I screamed, my voice bouncing back, swallowed up in the endless void, as if my own realm had turned against me.
A whisper slithered through the darkness, wrapping around me like a suffocating mist. It drifted on the air, a voice that was everywhere at once, filling every shadow, every crack in my mind, layering despair upon despair, until it felt like I was breathing in the ruin itself. The sound was not a single voice but a thousand, each one twisted with sorrow, with cruelty—a symphony of ruin that swelled louder, overtaking everything.
"You know me." It whispered
The air around me pulsed, throbbing with an unnatural rhythm, as if the world itself had become a vessel for this monstrous presence, each beat of its heart resonating in my chest.
Then he appeared—the boy I had slain, standing before me, but not as I remembered. Taller, stronger, with a symbol carved deep into his flesh, he radiated a beauty that was blinding, a terror that was paralyzing. Every inch of him spoke of something ancient, something vast and terrible.
Desperately, I tried to raise my sword, but his hand shot out, gripping me with a terrifying force. I tried to pull away, to reclaim any control, but he lifted my face with ease, tilting it up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes were a venomous green, like the distilled poison of some monstrous snake, an abyss that seemed to go on forever, endless and empty.
And that's when I felt it: the Chaos—the dark, primordial ocean that birthed us all. It seeped from him, a living force, coiling outward and winding up my limbs, slick and cold, like fingers of ice trailing across bare flesh. It slithered over my skin, pressing inward, deeper and deeper, sinking into the very marrow of my bones. Its tendrils writhed through me, a relentless surge that moved with an eerie intelligence, twisting its way into my thoughts, peeling back each layer with a brutal intimacy.
It slid into the hidden crevices of my mind, filling every corner, smothering the edges of my memories, pressing into the core of my essence until I felt myself beginning to dissolve. I was stripped raw, flayed open, every secret, every ambition laid bare before this ancient, endless hunger. I couldn't escape it, couldn't fight it. My body, my mind, my very soul—all were exposed, vulnerable. I felt myself unraveling, each thread of who I was pulled loose, devoured by this primal force.
And as it consumed me, I felt the horrible, inescapable truth: I was being unmade, erased from the inside out, leaving nothing behind.
And as I fought, struggling to hold onto anything, it continued, a relentless devouring hunger, stripping me down, tearing me apart piece by piece. My form began to dissolve, wisps of smoke trailing away, dissipating into nothingness. My memories faded, each one vanishing as if it had never been, my ambitions withering to ash. Who I had been—the power, the pride, the pieces that made me whole—slipped through my grasp, each fragment dissolving like sand lost to the ocean's tide.
And then, as I drifted, helpless and barely there, I felt his breath, cold as death, drawing me in. With a horrified jerk I realized what was happening, he was consuming me, swallowing what little remained, pulling me back to that primordial void from which all things rise and eventual destined to fall. I was being taken, returned to her, to him, to Chaos itself, the very force from which I was born and now to which I was condemned. In that final, fading heartbeat of awareness, I felt the vastness enclose around me, a darkness so complete that it swallowed even the memory of what I had once been. Was this what it was like to fade? To….cease?
And then… I was nothing.
Percy's POV:
I feel the pulse of this realm as I reclaim it, my new dominion of change entwined with the endless threads of fate, stretching in all directions, each one a whisper of possibility. I can sense Ananke, her presence tugging at me, a push and pull as our desires clash and twist, striving for alignment. But that is secondary now—Gaia is all that matters. I feel her fury lashing out, her attack on my family and friends erupting the moment she felt my rebirth, a surge of power crashing out like a wave. She's desperate, but I know what must be done.
I can feel him—my grandfather, a faint presence scattered like dust across the vastness of the universe, hiding in the forgotten shadows of time. His spirit lies shattered, broken into countless fragments, each one slipping between the folds of existence, evading my gaze. Yet there, amidst the emptiness, I catch the glint of something—a pulse, a faint, desperate grip on time itself. Gaia's final betrayal, her twisted gift, has left him exposed, a beacon flaring helplessly under my gaze. She cursed him with this hold on time, and now, he cannot hide from me.
I reach into that void, my hand like an iron chain, and I feel his spirit thrash as I pull him, every fragment yanked back from hiding, drawn inexorably into my grip. He whimpers, a faint, fractured sound, a ghost of the being he once was. Somewhere deep inside, I feel a flicker of pity rise, the faintest instinct to let him go. I push it down, leaning close, my voice soft, almost gentle. "It ends soon," I whisper, a promise edged with inevitability.
He thrashes, his spirit writhing in my grip, desperate, defiant, clawing to break free. But it's pointless—my hold is iron-clad. With each spasm, each futile attempt, his strength drains. I step from the Realm of Change, crossing back into the blood-soaked Earth. The ground, scorched and scarred, seems to breathe beneath me, pulsing like a beating heart, each throb vibrating with rage, and grief.
I see her then….
She stood there, rooted and serene, Her skin was the color of warm caramel, glowing as if it had soaked in the sunlight for centuries. Thick chestnut hair fell down her shoulders, loose waves framing a face so soft, so striking, that I felt myself getting pulled in, like she could hold me forever in her gaze. Her eyes—a deep, earthy green—met mine with a warmth that felt like it was wrapping around me, drawing me close, promising rest, peace, safety.
My gaze dropped, helplessly, drawn to the gentle curve of her form. Her hips were wide and inviting, her body soft and welcoming, each line and angle crafted to perfection, as if made to be worshipped. Her rounded belly held a richness, a sense of life and abundance that felt almost overwhelming, as though she herself was the very heart of the earth. Her breasts—full, heavy, rising and falling with each slow, measured breath—were nurturing yet impossibly perky, defying gravity with a grace that seemed to reflect her divine nature.
She was grounded, connected, her bare feet sinking just slightly into the soil, merging with the earth beneath her. The ground responded to her, cradling her, recognizing her as its source. Her toes pressed into the dirt, and even in that small gesture, there was power, a completeness that made it impossible to look away.
A warmth washed over me, lulling me forward, pulling me toward her. I felt my body ease, a whispering urge to let go, to step closer, to let her draw me into that embrace. For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to sink into her, to let her take everything from me—my exhaustion, my worry, all of it. I shook my head, catching myself, fighting to resist the pull that threatened to overpower me. And as I did, the vision faded, slipping away like mist under sunlight, revealing the truth. She bore now a terrible monstrous form, this vision I was shown as I arrived was what she could be, who she once was, and now I see what she has become, a monster.
Ahead of me, Hestia, Hades, Zeus, and my father stood as an unbreakable shield before the other Olympians, their forms flickering as they faced Gaia's relentless assault. Her wrath tore through the air, a hurricane of madness that seemed almost tangible. The battlefield around them writhed under her influence, the ground twisting, and shifting, as if it had come alive, and maybe it has. Where there had once been solid ground, there were now gaping chasms that oozed red-hot magma, and the sky above was roiling in dark, angry coils, split open with sudden cracks of lightning. The earth trembled violently, in tandem with Gaia, who was convulsing with rage, tearing at her own flesh in a fury that only a mother who's lost a child could understand.
This was a being of unstoppable fury, her once-protective essence corrupted, saturating everything around her in a maddening, otherworldly rage. The landscape lay fractured and bleeding beneath her, each crack in the earth a wound she had inflicted, each river of molten rock a testament to her wrath. She had transformed the battlefield into a nightmarish hellscape, a living testament to her hatred, and I stood there, caught between the memory of the mother she had been and the monster she had become.
My voice slices through the chaos, sharp and steady. Heads snap in my direction, eyes wide and unblinking as they fall on me—and then on the trembling spirit I drag forward, a frail shadow of something once terrible. My father's face flickers with shock, Zeus's eyes narrow, and a murmur sweeps through the gods, rippling with disbelief and horror.
They can see him—the true source of their scars. The monster who once consumed his own children, now reduced to fragments, shattered and pitiful. An ancient wound exposed to the light.
"Gaia," I call out, my voice the cold encroachment of a glacier. She turns, wild-eyed, her face twisted with fury and something close to fear. "It all began with him," I continue, my words sinking into the silence, cutting through the tension like a blade through linen. "Your favorite. The monster who devoured his own children, the traitorous son who slaughtered his own father, a beast leashed to you. His fate cursed by your greed, his life never his own."
A flicker of shock ripples through the crowd as I lift the spirit higher, letting them all see it. Letting Gaia see him, stripped of terror and reduced to this trembling remnant.
"Listen well," I say, my tone darkening, power thrumming beneath each word, "this is your choice. Kneel before my uncle. Bow to Olympus once more, and I will grant your precious monster mercy—a quick end. And your children, those whose spirits are uncorrupted, and hold some remnant of worth, will be spared. But defy me…" My voice drops lower, cold and final, "and I will burn everything you've ever loved to ash. You will be replaced by something better," I say, my voice low and razor-sharp, each word pressing down like a hammer. "Something more fitting to bear the name Mother Earth."
Gaia's eyes flare with a sudden, desperate madness, her form trembling as the weight of my threat settles over her. The earth beneath us groans, as if even it, her domain, feels the truth in my words. This is no empty warning—this is a future I am perfectly capable of creating..
Gaia's snarl echoes through the battlefield, thick with wrath, tearing through the air like a seismic wave. Her form flickers, shifting from solid to spectral, her edges fraying like a creature barely contained. Dark veins pulse beneath her skin, shadows and smoke leaking from her, thickening the air with a sense of foreboding. Her voice grinds through the silence, an ancient, jagged thing born of stone and fury, each word weighted with ages of scorn. "I am a primordial, among the ranks of the firstborn, mistress of the earth, wife to the Pit, consort of the heavens, mother to Titans and Giants. I am the Earth itself. And you," her gaze bores into me, fathomless and pitiless, "are nothing but a child, a mortal pretending at godhood."
I don't flinch, staring back, steady, the full weight of my power humming in my veins. "We are equals now, Gaia. Even as a demigod, I ripped Zeus free from your grasp. And now, with all you've lost, you're barely hanging on. Do you really think you can win?" My words are cold, honed, slicing through her rage. "It's over. One misstep, and you're done, and you know it."
Her face twists, lips curling back into a vicious snarl, her form writhing as if struggling to contain the sheer force building within her. Darkness veins her skin, her eyes ablaze with something wild and cruel. In a surge of raw fury, she lunges, her essence spilling into the ground, blackening it with her rage, her steps leaving nothing but scorched earth in her wake. Her form blurs, a tempest of muscle and rock, her power rippling in waves, every step a crack in the world itself.
I grip Riptide, feeling it thrum, its edge sharpening with a bloodlust I can feel in my bones. The air around the blade vibrates, curling in anticipation, seething with an intensity that matches Gaia's rage. The ground beneath me shudders, hot and alive, as I plant my feet, my every sense attuned to her advance.
One last fight….. I think to myself, excitement thrumming through my entire being.
Percy's POV: Apocalypse ~
As Gaia's fist connected with my chest, the impact was like a mountain crashing down, hurling me backward with relentless force. In an instant, I opened a portal beneath us, dragging us far from civilization. The next moment, we were in the heart of the Sahara, the world around us an endless expanse of scorched sand and blistering heat.
I pushed her off, her laughter sharp and grating. "I am the Earth, child," she sneered. "How do you think you can win against me?"
A dark smile crept across my face as I raised my hand, letting rage surge through every fiber of my being. The twisted futures Thoon had taunted me with still lingered in my mind, raw and festering, feeding a fury that seemed boundless. My focus narrowed, sharpened into a singular purpose: Gaia. I wanted her to feel the terror of helplessness, to watch, paralyzed, as everything she cherished, was ripped away from her, leaving nothing but emptiness and regret. I wanted her to taste the bitterness of despair, to know in the deepest marrow of her bones that she had lost. And more than anything, I wanted her to know, without question, that it was me who brought her to ruin.
Gaia will understand what it felt like to be powerless, I will make sure of it. So I raised my hand, yanking that chain, pulling him to me, to his final demise. I felt him in my grip as he began to materialize I looked at Gaia and told her, slowly, coldly, and cruelly. "Bear witness to the consequences of you choices Earth Mother."
And as Kronos's form twisted in my grip, dark flames began consuming him atom by atom, the agony painted across his face seared into the very fabric of the world around us. The flames coiled and tightened, each tendril like the strike of a vengeful serpent, unraveling his essence with a terrible, meticulous precision. His torment stretched into eons for him, every moment a century of dissolution, each instant an eternity of obliteration.
Gaia's scream ripped through the air, raw and keening, her rage and horror spilling into the sand and sky, the earth trembling beneath her anguish. She clawed at the ground, her voice breaking in a primal wail that echoed across the Sahara, powerless to halt the dissolution of her favored son. Kronos's end was painted in her eyes, every fragment of his torment reflected back in her gaze as I watched her unravel.
"That one was for you, Luke." I whispered to myself.
Her howl tore through the air, raw and primal, each step she took slamming into the earth, sending tremors that rippled across the landscape like aftershocks from an earthquake. Her face was a mask of fury, twisted beyond recognition, her eyes wild with madness as she hurled herself toward me, fists crashing down with the force of mountains splitting open. The ground responded instantly, wrapping around me, pulling me under in an unyielding grip of rock and soil. Layers upon layers compressed around me, burying me beneath miles of earth, the weight pressing in from all sides, relentless, crushing. I could feel the earth settle, dense, suffocating, with her hate seething in every grain.
But I wouldn't stay buried.
I forced my power outward in a shockwave, my energy cracking through the layers of rock and soil as I surged back towards the surface. The earth fractured, and chunks of stone flew in every direction, splintering and crumbling as I blasted my way free. I erupted from the ground, breathing in the open air, defying her attempts to bury me.
Her eyes narrowed with a vicious glint, and she raised her arms, pulling magma from deep within the earth. The searing flood cascaded over me in waves, a lasso that pulled me back down, it was an unrelenting torrent of molten rock. It was an inferno, boiling hot, it burned through skin and sinew, scorching everything it touched. My flesh seared under the relentless heat, each drop of magma sinking into my bones, the air around me shimmering with the unbearable intensity.
But I called to the ocean, feeling a surge in the distance as the sea answered my command. In a colossal rush, freezing water poured down, colliding with the magma in a deafening explosion of steam, the hiss drowning out all sound. The air filled with blinding white mist, a seething clash of fire and ice. The magma solidified in jagged layers, a thick, suffocating crust that held me trapped, but I shattered it with a single blow, the hardened shell bursting into fragments as I tore free, breathing hard, facing her again.
The desert itself buckled beneath us, reshaped by the brutal clash of forces. Billions of tons of water continued to surge inward, flooding the vast stretch of sand until an inland sea sprawled where the Sahara had once been, a body of water stretching farther than the eye could see, three times the size of the Great Lakes combined. The newborn sea churned violently, still reeling from the fury that had summoned it, its waves pounding onto a shore newly born from destruction.
Standing on the jagged, wet edge of this massive inland sea, I met Gaia's gaze across the shattered battlefield, a wasteland of charred earth and steaming water between us. Her face was a twisted mask of rage, her eyes blazing with an unholy fire as the earth trembled beneath her, the air heavy with the raw, uncontained energy. I re-engaged her, Riptide a blur of bronze.
Our blades met, each clash detonating with a shockwave that rippled through the desert sands, as though the heavens themselves had erupted. Each strike was the birth of a thousand storms, each impact a torrent of fury unleashed. But, at last, we began to pull back, both of us panting, bodies wearied, and in that suspended moment—the dust settling, the fury fading—a quiet clarity took hold. My anger ebbed, leaving in its place the weight of something heavier, something that felt like… shame.
Fragments of memory flickered through my mind: Tartarus, his voice trembling, stripped of pride, begging. The sadness I'd felt upon taking up the mantle of the god of time—a sorrow that hadn't been mine, but hers. Gaia's sadness, etched into her very soul, a grief so old and so deep it seemed carved into the fabric of our universe, a scar that would not heal. I recalled the vision I'd seen upon my arrival, that fleeting glimpse of what she once was, what she could have been—a figure of nurturing, of life. And now, I saw her not as the monstrous force that she had become, but as she once was: a child, young and innocent, untouched by the choices that would eventually bury her under an avalanche of pain and disappointment.
She had known only suffering, her heart turned to stone under the weight of countless betrayals and losses. And for the first time, I felt the full, suffocating gravity of it.
A plan formed, tentative yet persistent. There was one who had embodied everything Gaia could have been—a daughter she had cherished above all else, one she had betrayed everything to protect. I had lied when I called Kronos her favorite; it had been a cheap attempt to wound her, to dredge up painful memories and force her to confront the ruin of her choices. But in truth, that title belonged to another.
My silent plea slipped into the air, a whisper riding the currents of power around us. A call cast into the ether, trembling with the desperation of one clinging to a final hope, wishing to avoid a duty that had already twisted their heart. It was a cry flung up to the heavens—a god's prayer, raw and unguarded, unshielded by pride or power. Grandmother, please, I prayed. Only you can end this without further heartbreak. Only you can withstand her rage, her bitterness, and bring her back from this path of ruin. Convince her to seek forgiveness, to atone for all she's wrought. Save us from this endless cycle of loss.
Then, a warmth blossomed around us—a presence both familiar and profound, wrapping itself around us like the gentle embrace of a sanctuary long-forgotten. It was a warmth that felt like Hestia's fire, like the soft touch of my mother's hand, like home itself. Gaia felt it too; I could see the flicker of recognition in her eyes. Her rage faltered, her face torn between fury and something softer, something rooted deep within her being. She was caught in a silent struggle, her hatred for me clashing with a love that had survived eons of bitterness.
And then, slowly, I saw her rage begin to unravel, the weight of Rhea's presence washing over her. Love battled against her anger, winding its way through the cracks in her armor, and as the fury dimmed in her eyes, I saw something raw and vulnerable—a yearning that even her darkest rage couldn't fully extinguish.
In the end, love won out, as it often did.
I lowered Riptide, letting its form revert to a simple pen as I stepped back, watching the shift in her eyes—the fury flickering, confusion and sorrow twisting across her face. Her mind was primed for trickery, suspicion written into every line of her expression, yet her heart seemed to recognize the truth, an undeniable pulse echoing through her.
Slowly, Gaia turned, the storm in her expression breaking open, raw and vulnerable. Her eyes widened, seeing the familiar figure before her, the daughter she had lost to betrayal and time. The memories between them loomed, unspoken but alive: the first fall of the Titans, the chains of Tartarus, her continued loyalty to Zeus, despite his brutal punishments to her kin. It all hung between them, a wound carved into the fabric of their family. And yet, beneath it all, the embers of a bond too deep to sever.
Mother and daughter stood across from each other, two timeless forces bound by love and betrayal, each carrying wounds that stretched back through countless ages. And there, at that moment, hope stirred, fragile but growing, as I realized that the cycle of vengeance might finally have a chance to end.
Artemis PoV:
He was gone.
The realization struck me like an arrow, it was a twisting, brutal, unforgiving wound. My body jerked forward before I even knew I was moving, breaking free of Apollo's grip. Ares's hold loosened, his face contorting, eyes narrowed with disgust, his voice scraping out, "He cheated." The words were bitter, dripping with loathing. "The bastard needed his mother to finish the punk."
But his words barely registered. My world had shrunk to that one image—Percy's lifeless form, his strength and fire drained, reduced to a silent, broken shell. The battlefield or what's left of it after our hollow victory was silent. He was gone. My resolve wavered, cracking under the weight, the enormity of it pulling me down like a stone dragging me into the deep.
Then Annabeth's scream tore through the air, raw and unfiltered, a sound that ripped at the heart. She thrashed against her mother, cursing, railing against everything and everyone, her voice hoarse with a grief so profound it felt like the last desperate throes of a dying animal. Athena's grip held tight, absorbing every ounce of her daughter's pain, taking it into herself even as her own face twisted in sorrow.
I struggled forward, needing to be near him, to do something—anything—but a gentle hand caught my arm. I whipped around, fury blazing in my eyes, but it was Hestia. Her face was a study in quiet devastation, her lips pressed tight, her gaze hollow. She didn't say a word. She only pulled me close, her grip like iron, her sorrow absolute. Rage simmered in her gaze, that endless hope I'd always seen in her eyes now dimmed, replaced with something darker. She stared at Ares, her silent fury passing to him, and he moved with swift obedience, taking my arm and leading me back toward my siblings, his own face shadowed with a rare concern.
Around us, the other gods stood rooted, each absorbing the loss rolling through and over them, a heavy, suffocating wave. Each of them confused at the deep and all consuming sorrow and rage filling them, only to then realize it's source, Poseidon. Poseidon was wild, barely restrained by Zeus and Hades, his grief spilling out like a breaking dam. The ocean he commanded raged across the world, waves crashing with the strength of a father's shattered heart. Tidal waves tore through islands, coastlines crumbled, the sky itself darkened, as though the very elements mourned.
Ares's grip tightened, pulling me toward Aphrodite, who reached for me, her gaze soft, filled with understanding. Her voice was low, soothing, like a balm I wanted to reject but couldn't resist. She whispered, and her words slipped over me, dulling the sharp edges of my pain, slowing my heartbeat until it felt like I was drifting in a haze. I felt drowsy, a sick, empty weight pressing down on me, but even through it, I felt Poseidon's fury carving through the battlefield, a force that could split the world in two.
Across the field, Thoon lingered, distracted, scribbling as if we were nothing more than characters in his twisted play. Hestia had moved to Poseidon's side. Zeus and Hades still had him in their hold, but she closed the distance, and with a strength I'd never known from her. She grasped their arms, her grip vice-like, and with a strength that defied her small form, she tore their hands away, setting Poseidon free.
He charged forward, a hurricane incarnate, his pain and fury a ruthless tide. Hades quickly fell in behind him, his face shadowed with a silent understanding rage. Zeus hesitated but joined when Hestia did, her face alight with a wrath that echoed Poseidon's own. Together, they moved with a force that bent the earth beneath them, their footsteps heavy with the kind of power that had once felled Titans.
I tried to follow, to break free, but Ares's grip was a vise, his fingers digging into my arm as Aphrodite's whispers grew quicker and louder, her power coiling around me like chains.
"Listen, sis…" Ares's voice, rough but soft, cut through the chaos. "I know you cared about the pu—" His voice wavered before he corrected himself, swallowing back something bitter. "About the boy. But we can't go in there. That fight… let Father, let our uncles… let Auntie handle it, alright? It's… beyond us."
His words seeped into the fog that Aphrodite had wrapped around me, settling like stones in my stomach. I felt my breath hitch, the truth pressing down like the weight of a mountain. We were close to the edge—far too close. For the first time, I could see it clearly, the narrow line between survival and annihilation. The giants had been shattered, but Gaia remained, the ultimate force that loomed over us. And now that beast, something we didn't and couldn't have predicted, something beyond our understanding.
Artemis PoV:
His body was returned, my uncles, Aunts, and Father, crashed into that horrid realm, what they saw I do not know, but their haunted faces told me all I needed to know. Poseidon carried him, with Hestia hovering close by.
"His soul, is it in your realm yet brother? I…. I want him to be granted entrance to the Isle of the Blessed, if an exception can be made for your daughter Helen and her husband Menelaus, Zeus, then my son who gave you and this family everything he had…. He… he should be allowed entry." Poseidon said.
"Of course…" Zeus began but was interrupted.
"No," Hades said with a finality that shocked the gods and demigods present. My rage boiling to a maximum, I'd fight Hades if I had to, if it meant Percy got what he deserved.
"Father!" Hazel yelled, but the sound was consumed by Poseidons roar.
"What!?" He boomed, "How Dare…" but before he could finish he was interrupted by Hades.
"I can't find his soul brother…." Hades said, and his voice sounded scared, more scared than I'd ever heard it.
"How…" Zeus and Poseidon said at once, and only then did we realize something, Gaia's power was gone, it had not been apart of the battle since her attempt on Zeus. She had focused all her strength in that new realm where Percy and Thoon fought, but now? Her path is open, the fates champion defeated, fate quite literally favored her, and yet she had not made her move, almost as if….
Then we felt it—a surge so powerful, so all-encompassing, that it shattered any illusion of our own might. It wasn't just powerful; it was a force that dwarfed even the combined strength of the Big Three. Six, maybe seven times their power, each wave distinctly unique, a symphony of energies with different textures and temperaments. It vibrated through the air, pressing down on us, filling every space until it felt like breathing through water.
Realization clawed its way through the haze. The Primogenai, the ancient ones, the first beings to ever exist, had stepped into this war. Their presence was suffocating, and they were holding Gaia, restraining her with their boundless might. But why? The question burned in my mind, searing through the shock. What could be so dire that even they, those primordial forces who seldom involved themselves, had intervened now?
Despite the searing pain in my head from the crush of divine power, a single, overwhelming urge consumed me: I needed to be near Percy. I needed to see him, to confirm what my heart refused to accept. The doubt, the gnawing denial, clawed at my sanity, driving me deeper into grief with every heartbeat. But I couldn't move. I couldn't let Poseidon see the depth of my infatuation, not now, not when he teetered so close to the edge himself. His rage and despair were a storm, and if I pushed him further, I feared the consequences.
So I stood, rooted to the spot, my eyes locked on Percy's broken form. The longing twisted inside me, mingling with a grief so profound it felt like it would consume me whole. The space between us felt vast, an unbridgeable chasm filled with raw, unrelenting sorrow.
The shadows coiled inward, collapsing in a cascade of darkness until they began to take form, refining into the figure of a woman. She stood before us, perfection made flesh, with a beauty so profound that it made my chest tighten with an unfamiliar self-consciousness. It was a feeling I hadn't known before Percy, but one that had haunted me since he entered my life, worming its way into my thoughts like a thorn.
Since he had come into my world, I couldn't help but compare myself—first with other goddesses, then with every woman who had touched his heart. Calypso, with her nurturing grace and the effortless way she could captivate without trying, a legend in both beauty and gentleness, her presence radiating warmth and comfort. She was soft, tender, and inviting, exuding a quiet strength that made her irresistible in a way that was subtle, sensual without ever needing to be overt. Every gesture whispered of a deep, nurturing love, a kind of care that spoke to the soul and invited it to rest.
Then there was Aphrodite, desire personified, the ultimate contradiction made harmonious. She embodied every longing, every dream, every flicker of lust and romance that ever existed. She was the shy, blushing maiden one moment, delicate and demure, and the minx of temptation the next—overtly sensual, aware of exactly what she wanted and precisely how to get it. Her body was sculpted to command worship, hips that moved with the rhythm of a lover's whispered promise, a voice like honeyed wine that dripped with allure. Aphrodite's enchantment was woven not just in her flawless curves but in the subtle art of her movements, the way a glance could ensnare, a smile could ignite. Her beauty was a masterpiece, a siren song that called irresistibly, merging the innocent with the forbidden, the tender with the bold.
And now, this woman, the woman who emerged from the shadows, was something altogether different. She was darkness made sensual, an enigma that walked the line between fear and desire. Her beauty was severe, almost gothic in its allure, with skin as pale as moonlight and eyes that glittered like shards of onyx. Her presence was both regal and deadly, a danger wrapped in temptation, as if surrendering to her would be both rapture and ruin. Her lips, dark as blood, curved into a knowing smile that promised secrets whispered in the night. Every detail of her exuded a vampiric seduction—an intoxicating pull that made you want to step closer, despite the sharp edge of foreboding that pressed against your senses.
Standing before them, I felt my own inadequacies laid bare—my body lean and honed from centuries of relentless pursuit, every muscle and sinew a testament to the sharpness of the hunt. Where their bodies were soft, full, and inviting, mine was all angles and tension—my chest flat, my legs too long and muscled. I was Artemis, the eternal maiden, forged by the wild, bound by the call of the moon and the whisper of the trees. Courtship and seduction had never drawn me in; I had traded their gentleness and surrender for the fierce, unyielding embrace of freedom.
Yet now, confronted by these embodiments of divine femininity and haunted by the memory of another, questions surged within me, ones I had no answers for. I remembered Calypso's tender, nurturing charm that promised warmth and safety. I turned my gaze to Aphrodite's raw, smoldering allure, the way she captured every wandering glance. And then, I looked at this woman before me, with her dark, predatory grace that lured with both desire and dread. I felt a tremor of something I dared not name—a flicker of yearning, perhaps; the longing to surrender, to give myself completely to him, even now, as he lay there lifeless, my chance lost forever.
It was a feeling deeper than jealousy, sharper than envy. It was a disquieting ache, a realization of what it meant to truly want, to look at everything these other women could give him and question, for the first time, if I could have given him the same, if I could ever be enough. If I could have given him what they could. If I was enough for him.
Being in the presence of this goddess of shadows brought perfect clarity, an echo of fear and desire entwined. It was the dawning awareness that freedom was no longer enough; that I was willing to surrender everything I had ever been, everything I held dear, just to have been his.
But now, with Percy gone, that ache twisted into something sharper. Was it loss? Regret? Rage? Perhaps it was all of those things. If he was truly gone, I prayed this torment would fade, lost to time. Yet, deep down, I knew it was a lie. He's not gone, Diana's voice echoed fiercely within my mind, her conviction a perfect mirror of my own. He can't be gone—we both know that!
You're right, I thought back. He can't be gone forever. Uncle Hades said he couldn't find his soul. If we could heal his body, raise him to godhood, maybe… maybe there's still hope.
My scattered thoughts splintered as the woman stepped closer, her presence slicing through the chaos in my mind like a blade. I wasn't used to feeling so unmoored, and it was because of that disarray that she had managed to approach unnoticed, gliding past the tense ranks of Olympians with an unsettling ease. They stood at the ready, weapons drawn, bodies coiled with the anticipation of battle. My father shifted forward instinctively, his protective stance a barrier between us and the intruder. But as I met her gaze, an icy realization snaked down my spine: this woman was perhaps more dangerous than even my great-grandmother. There was something familiar about her, something ancient that made my blood run cold.
The glow of her skin, the cascade of hair dark as midnight, the way the very shadows seemed to ripple and bow in deference around her—it clicked, sudden and undeniable.
"Nyx," my father said curtly, the tension in his voice thinly veiled. "We've appreciated your aid so far. Is this reprieve your doing?"
"And my kin's," she replied, a subtle smile playing at her lips, her obsidian eyes sparkling with dark amusement. Her long black hair fell in thick locks over her chest, and her low-cut dress concealed just enough to hold an air of mystery.
"Can you help him?" I asked, pushing aside the burning jealousy in my chest as memories of Percy's encounters with her flooded my mind. He had told me of their meetings, the way her presence had left its mark on him. But that fire paled next to the inferno of hope. He's not gone! Diana's voice echoed in my psyche, fierce and certain. We shared the same conviction.
Nyx turned her gaze to me, eyes alight with a look of triumph. "Only I can save him now. Give him to me, and I will help him become what he was always meant to be." She shivered with something between pleasure and anticipation, and the jealousy flared, sharp and hot. But it didn't matter. Nothing did, except that he could be saved.
"Then do it. Save him!" I said, my voice cold with the weight of desperation. I caught Poseidon's eyes on me, something conflicted flashing in their depths—surprise, maybe even unwilling recognition. He stepped forward, placing Percy's body into Nyx's arms, his hand lingering on Percy's shoulder for a moment before retreating. Before vanishing with Percy, Nyx's gaze met mine, and Poseidon's large hand settled on my shoulder, squeezing with a reassurance I hadn't known I needed.
"Be prepared," she said, her voice a low purr. "Gaia will know what we are doing. She will know she has lost, and while our eyes are turned, she'll come for you. She will seek to strip away all joy from this victory. Hold out until he returns."
My father nodded, accepting the rise of a rival with a solemn understanding that war changes everything. In the chaos of battle, choices are made for survival, alliances forged out of necessity, and pride set aside for the sake of victory. Expediency and pragmatism become the guiding principles, even for gods. But none of that mattered now. All I knew was that he was coming back. And when he did, I swore, nothing—no demigod, goddess, Titaness, or primordial—would stand in my way. He would be mine, and I his. For him, I would abandon the maiden's oath that had defined me for so long. I would surrender everything—my freedom, my hunt, the very essence of who I had been. Because with him, I had found a longing deeper than the call of the wild, a desire stronger than the moon's pull on the sea. And when he returned, I would make sure he knew it.
Artemis:
Gaia's attack was sudden, brutal, a storm that erupted from the earth itself, tearing through the battlefield with a vengeance that made even the gods falter. One heartbeat, Nyx had taken Percy, cradling him in shadows, and in the next, they were both gone—swallowed by a yawning darkness as the ground itself heaved and cracked open. The air was ripped from my lungs as the world seemed to tilt, throwing me into a frenzy of chaos and noise.
My uncles and aunts were a living shield, pushing us younger gods behind them as they surged forward, facing the wrath of an enraged primordial. Demeter stood tall and unyielding, her face a mask of fierce determination as she clashed with Gaia, their powers colliding in a war of wills that made the earth beneath us groan as if it might split apart. Father's roar echoed above the din, and the sky obeyed, unleashing the full wrath of Ouranos. Bolts of lightning, blinding and jagged, tore through the pitch-black sky, each strike shaking the very heavens and casting the battlefield in stark, flickering light.
But it was Poseidon who drew the eye, a tempest of rage given form. His grief over Percy's death was raw, a palpable force that lashed out in waves that mimicked the realm it's master ruled. The seas across the world responded, their connection with the moon deep and profound, They were surging and crashing in a symphony of rage and mourning, the echoes of a father's despair swallowing coastlines and shattering islands. The earth shuddered beneath the weight of his anguish, as if it, too, felt the breaking of his heart. But also I felt the beginning of something forming between my realm of ther moon, and my uncles realm of the seas. As if forming a new domain from our shared grief and love. The aspect which had been governed loosely by both of us, now solidifying into something… independent. The tides, I felt the tides, and they were connected to me, as they are connected to Poseidon, as if solidifying a connection between us, a link, a…. Union. Could it be him?
Hope and desperation clawed at me, a silent plea twisting through my mind like a prayer—begging the Fates, Ananke, Chaos itself—any power that could hear me, to bring him back. But as Gaia's assault continued. We noticed the problem, we should be winning, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon are more than a match for Gaia, and that isnt including Hestia and the other Elder Gods, nor us younger gods either. Yet every inch gained was met with two inches lost. It was as if fate itself had turned on us, pulling us toward defeat, making every movement feel like wading through quick sand that slowed and weakened us.
And then, it happened—a power so overwhelming it tore through reality, raw and wild, like the birth of a monstrous star. It rippled through existence, with a predator's presence, ferocious and consuming. It radiated defiance and a chaos so primal it was uncertain of it's identity and role, teetering between savior and destroyer. This force erupted from the underworld, and surged through the seas, before it struck Gaia with a violence that made her stumble. Her eyes, wide with shock, they cycled through disbelief, fury, and then something that gripped my heart—terror. But it didn't end there. It settled into a look of calm, twisted acceptance, the kind found only in the eyes of the damned who know they have lost but crave to drag their foes into hell with them.
The power surged toward the place where Gaia's essence met the dark realm Percy had been taken to, and from that collision, a figure emerged. Vast and commanding, it was forged from shadows so deep they seemed to devour every flicker of light on the battlefield before casting it back out in emerald, venomous green—a light so intense and piercing it left an imprint behind closed eyes. The figure was an eldritch force, more akin to Nyx than any Olympian, radiating an aura of ancient, otherworldly power. And yet, it was unmistakably him—Percy.
I felt it deep in my marrow, an electric pulse that resonated through every part of me, drawing me toward him with an undeniable, almost painful force. A wave of yearning surged through my chest, fierce and all-consuming, stealing my breath. My fingers twitched, an instinctive desire to reach out, to touch him, to become part of this overwhelming presence. I longed to weave myself into his essence, to join him in an intimate dance of creation.
The figure shattered the wall between our world and that alien realm, and then, with a deafening silence, it and the realm vanished, as if swallowed by a void that erased everything it touched.
Gaia's scream was feral, cutting through the silence. "Fine!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with madness. "I'll leave him nothing. His victory will be hollow. I will tear from him all he holds dear, root and stem!" Her rage turned back to us, a storm barely contained, and she threw herself at the elder gods with renewed ferocity.
The younger gods and I moved as one, desperation and fury driving us into the fray like insects fighting giants, knowing full well that it might be the last stand we ever took. But we would not falter. We would not break. For him, we would face oblivion itself.
Hazel's PoV
The battlefield had become a living nightmare where survival was the only goal. The enemy army had long since been annihilated by the might of Olympus. Now, the only foe left was Gaia herself, and fighting Gaia meant fighting the earth—the very ground beneath us, alive with her fury. The world quaked and fractured, each step a gamble. It wasn't just a battle; it was a cataclysm, the fabric of reality tearing under the wrath of a primordial force.
I caught a glimpse of Jason, arcs of electricity crackling across his armor, his expression grim but resolute. Our eyes met for a moment, a silent command passing between us: Stay alive. It was all we could do now. This battle was beyond us—maybe even beyond our divine parents.
Before I could move, the earth beneath us split open, a jagged chasm surging between me and Jason. The ground lurched, and I fell hard, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. I scrambled upright, my vision spinning as chaos erupted around me. Gaia's presence suffused the battlefield; she was in every tremor, every groan of the land, every whisper of wind.
I watched, horror tightening my chest as the ground heaved and swallowed a hundred Cyclopes at once, their roars silenced as the earth consumed them. Around me, nature spirits shrieked, their forms unraveling as their essences were torn apart, their betrayal punished by the Mother they had once served. I clenched my fists, vowing silently that if we survived, their sacrifice would not be forgotten.
A deep, resonant rumble shook the air, making my heart stutter. Alone, surrounded by a sea of shifting, angry earth, I looked up and met Gaia's gaze. She was everywhere at once, her divine form fractured across the battlefield to keep the gods separated. This piece of her, towering over me, locked eyes with a recognition that turned into a sneer.
"So, my sister chooses you to inherit godly domains?" Her voice was rich, ancient, vibrating through my bones. "A mortal child? A cursed betrayer… fitting." Her laugh was a jagged, terrible thing, and the ground beneath me quaked in answer. "But you won't live to claim them."
Her hand rose, power crackling around it, and the air grew dense, pressing on me until I could barely breathe. My limbs felt weighted, fear locking me in place as the inevitability of death loomed.
But then a sudden explosion of light shattered the suffocating darkness. A bolt of lightning, fierce and blinding, struck Gaia's form, tearing through her with the force of an ancient god's wrath. Smoke curled into the air, mingled with scorched earth. Gaia reeled, momentarily staggered. Out of the fading brilliance, Zeus emerged, each step radiating power that made the ground beneath him crack, as if the weight of his power was to much for the ground to bear. With him came the focused, controlled destruction of an ancient, battle-hardened god, wielding the only weapon capable of matching the full power of a God on its own.
"Our. Fight. Wasn't. Finished," he thundered, his voice shaking the battlefield. "Face someone your own size, hag."
Gaia's eyes narrowed, and with a roar that seemed to splinter the sky, she turned on him. The clash of their powers sent a shockwave surging outward, flattening everything in its path. The sound roared in my ears, making my vision blur as the force rippled through me, leaving me stunned but alive.
And as I lay gasping for breath, surrounded by the echoes of their battle, the truth settled in my chest like a stone: we were small, helpless in the face of such overwhelming power. When gods went to war, reality itself shuddered, and all creation quaked.
Artemis PoV:
We clung to survival, each breath a fragile defiance against the chaos threatening to swallow us whole. The battlefield was a storm, a cacophony of crumbling plans and shrieking earth. And then, when hope had faded to a mere whisper—he emerged.
He strode into the chaos, hair cascading to his shoulders, each braid woven with golden threads that glimmered like embers caught in the wind. He towered over us now, an intimidating seven feet, yet still lean and lithe, his boyish features replaced by something raw, fierce. The sight seized my breath, divine ichor heating my skin as my gaze caught a detail that both startled and enthralled me. Bare-chested, his muscles carved and taut, he wore an intricate tattoo over his heart: Riptide's blade, flanked by raven-like wings and engulfed in swirling green and black flames, crowned by a crescent moon—my moon. A silvery-white wolfskin cloak draped his shoulders, shifting with an almost sentient grace, regal yet feral. Riptide hummed in his grasp, the sound cutting through the chaos like a heartbeat, syncing with the tremors of the battlefield.
His eyes—still the striking sea green I knew—now shimmered brighter, liquid emeralds alive with movement. Dark flecks glinted in their depths, miniature black holes that seemed to devour and guard secrets untold. His skin, no longer marked by Tartarus's pallor, glowed with a sun-warmed copper hue. He was both wild and commanding, He looked like a blend of a pro surfer and a formidable Greek general, sculpted by the essence of nature and conflict itself. His divine aura was palpable, already shaping him into what he was meant to be—a force of nature, fierce and unstoppable. But before awe could settle, Gaia's fury lashed out—a force that shook the very Earth to it's core. In an instant, it struck him, sending him hurtling into a portal that snapped shut behind him like a trap.
Damn that reckless man! Me and Diana internally screamed in unison.
Percy's PoV:
I returned alone, stepping into the heavy silence. The gods stood gathered, their gazes fixed on me, laden with anticipation. My father surged forward, embracing me with a grip that spoke of both relief and pride. But before he could say a word, Zeus stormed forward, thunder rumbling overhead, his fury palpable.
"Where is he? How dare you bring that filth here!" Zeus's voice lashed out, sharp as a blade. My father's expression darkened, anger sparking in his eyes, but I placed a hand on his shoulder, meeting Zeus's glare with what I hoped was a disarming smile.
"He... shared a domain with me, one we were both bound to," I said, my tone steady, deliberate. "To take full control, he had to be... removed. So yes, I killed him. It was necessary to ensure he couldn't resist as I mastered my powers." It was only part of the truth, but it would suffice. Kronos had long been past resistance—a shadow of himself. As the true heir to the Primordial of Time, claiming his essence had been almost effortless. But revealing that my motivation was also to wound Gaia would have complicated things. The Olympians might have understood, even approved, but Gaia? She barely tolerated me as it was. I wouldn't risk jeopardizing the fragile peace Rhea had fought to secure. I'd seen the way my grandmother's quiet disappointment could break even the mightiest of beings. Rhea's power, rooted in an ancient and profound motherhood, was unparalleled—matched only by Hestia's dominion over hearth, family, and hope.
In my immersion within the Sea of Chaos and the currents of Time—my newly claimed realms—I had glimpsed echoes of Gaia's past, when she too embodied nurturing love, an inheritance passed down through generations. From Gaia to Rhea, and finally to Hestia, it was a legacy of warmth, family, and devotion. Whatever had veered Gaia from that path was shrouded in mystery, a secret buried deep, gnawing at my curiosity with relentless need.
Zeus's eyes narrowed, suspicion sparking in their stormy depths. "What... you killed him? But how? Wait—time! It's time, isn't it? That unsettling presence I felt clinging to you earlier." Realization crossed his features, and a storm gathered in his expression. "How did you kill him?"
The gods exchanged wary glances, recognition dawning as they registered the echo of their father's power—changed but unmistakably present—now within me.
"First, let me be clear—he's gone," I said firmly. "What you felt is simply the nature of the time domain manifesting. And as for how... I cast him into the Primordial Sea."
A murmur swept through the gathered gods, tension crackling in the air. Hades's voice rose above it, deep and certain. "So, it's true."
"My son..." Poseidon's whisper carried a mixture of pride and unease.
Zeus's rigid stance eased just slightly, though the weight in his gaze remained. "It could be worse, I suppose. You are... fitting. But not that we have any choice in the matter. And what of her? Did the Earth Mother share his fate?" His voice held a faint note of sorrow, almost imperceptible.
Before I could respond, a voice, ancient and sharp, cut through the tension. "Is that regret I hear, grandson? Sorrow? Do you love me, after all?"
Weapons flashed in an instant, the gods turning to face the source. But one by one, their blades lowered as recognition dawned. Standing beside Gaia was a figure of timeless beauty and power, drawn from the deepest recesses of myth and memory.
"Mother?" Zeus's voice wavered, just barely.
Zeus Pov:
The weight of unease settled heavily in my chest, a sensation that had haunted me ever since I first felt the resurgence of the time domain—a presence I hadn't sensed in countless ages. I hadn't been the one to face Kronos in the last war; it was Perseus, and now that boy has shattered the Tyrant's grip on this family once and for all.
That boy...
He stormed into our world and shifted the ground beneath us. Everything about him incensed me at first—his audacity, the defiance burning in his eyes, his sharp wit, and by the Fates, always with the sarcasm. But time, relentless and unforgiving, teaches its lessons even to the sons of Kronos, and time after time, his judgment proved true.
When Percy stood before us and demanded that Hades be given a seat at our table, my outrage was boundless. I had spent centuries keeping my eldest brother at arm's length, ever wary of the shrewdness in his words and the gleam of intellect in his eyes that rivaled even Athena's. The thought of welcoming him back felt like inviting betrayal, a silent coup lurking behind every shadowed smile. But now? The distance between us felt smaller, less a gaping chasm and more an old wound beginning to mend—and that was all due to the second part of Percy's wish.
Hestia's return to the Council.
My sister, who had once quietly stepped aside when Dionysus claimed a place among us, had faded into the background and, over time, slipped from our thoughts. Her voice, once a gentle beacon of wisdom, became a mere echo, a memory we had allowed ourselves to forget. But now, her presence was a flame rekindled, casting its light across every shadowed corner of our council. Hestia watched us with clear, knowing eyes, her gentle admonishments slicing through our bickering, urging us to set aside pride and look forward—to look to our future.
Our children, more than mere cousins, stood as true siblings, bound by a loyalty so fierce it eclipsed anything we had known for eachother in centuries. That truth seared into me when I saw my son, Jason, and Hades' daughter, Hazel, poised to throw themselves into that abyssal realm of chaos—an infernal void so merciless that even my siblings and I had barely clawed our way through to retrieve Perseus's body. Yet they were prepared to brave that hell, driven by the mere chance of saving that Sea-spawn.
That boy, that Perseus, had used his wish—his chance at immortality, power, anything in existence—to strengthen Olympus in ways even Athena had not anticipated. A simple act: adding thrones. Yet to us, it was inconceivable. Twelve Titans, twelve Olympians—unchangeable tradition. Until him.
Change...
Hestia's presence had become a steady force, softening the sharp edges of our pride, guiding us to see beyond our own ambition. Watching Jason and Hazel act without hesitation for someone they loved revealed a truth in her quiet insistence. Perhaps there was something to learn from this new generation—their bond, their fierce loyalty. Not that I would ever let those words pass my lips.
And now, Mother was here. The memory of our last conversation surged through me, vivid and raw. It was the only time we had truly argued, the first time I had utterly failed her. My mother, Rhea, had been on the verge of joining our newly formed council, ready to guide the empire we had forged from the ruins of our father's kingdom. I had tried for centuries to bring her onboard, to convince her of her rightful place, but she remained uninterested. How could I have known she was finally ready to step forward?
It had all started with a disagreement. Hades and I were at odds over the fates of the Titans who had remained neutral—the ones who had shown no appetite for their kin's cruelty. He argued for their pardon, to bind them to our new reign and secure their loyalty. But I was blinded by my rage, the memories of war and betrayal fresh and vivid. The echoes of Ouranos's murder, passed down through my inheritance of the sky, seared into my mind. The blood-soaked memories of battle, the threats hurled at my sisters—those wounds refused to heal. Trusting any Titan seemed unthinkable then, something I couldn't imagine until Leto came into my life, a soul as kind as Hestia and Rhea. She softened that hardened edge, and the birth of Apollo and Artemis cemented a new understanding in me. But by then, it was too late. Hades had been right, though I'd sooner strip naked and swim the Styx than admit it to him.
With his sharp mind and silver tongue, Hades persuaded many of our kin to his side. He was a master of politics, as shrewd as Athena and twice as relentless. For the first time, I felt something insidious gnawing at me—paranoia. It was my father's curse, the same venom that had driven him to madness. I had spent my immortal life battling it, but in that moment, it took hold. Consumed by pride and fear, I cast my own brother out, severing his place in the council.
Rhea's face haunted me, etched with sorrow as she turned her back and walked away, unable to bear the fracture in our family. In that moment, I had not just lost my brother—I had lost my mother and shattered the family that had once toppled an empire with nothing but each other.
But now, she was here. Returned to the family she should never have left. Hades, too, had returned. And with them, maybe—just maybe—there was still time to mend what had been broken.
The word "Mother" left my lips, tentative and heavy. The years of silence, of wounds left unspoken, hung between us. But then she smiled, and that small gesture shattered the weight pressing on my chest. Poseidon was the first to move, that old soft-hearted fool, striding forward to embrace her. Hestia followed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. My other sisters joined them one by one, their reverence and relief palpable. Only my children and the demigods hesitated, watching from the sidelines, unsure.
Hades and I stood back, a shared silence between us, centuries of bitterness unspoken. I glanced at him, catching a flicker of something—an almost-smile ghosting his lips.
"Brother," I said, the words tight in my throat, "I can't undo what I did. But I regret it. And I'm... sorry."
The almost-smile faded from his face, replaced by the hardened lines of old grief. His voice was cool and sharp, echoing with all the shadows of the Underworld. "Little brother, what you did to Maria, what you tried to do to Bianca and Nico... forgiveness won't come easily, and forgetting? Never."
The weight of his words settled over me like a shroud, the years of guilt pressing harder than ever. But then he spoke again, and there was something gentler, a reminder of what we once were.
"But we have an eternity to try. That's the strange, infuriating thing about us gods. Everything else changes, everything else fades. But we remain."
"We remain," I echoed, the words a quiet vow.
We moved forward together, joining the others. My children watched, their eyes uncertain, the distance between us marked by the fractures of the past. But when I stepped toward Rhea, and with her, Gaia, they hesitated only a moment before following. Their loyalty, though cautious, followed my lead.
I caught Artemis's gaze shift to Perseus, the longing etched in her eyes before she looked to Poseidon, seeking silent approval, reassurance. I felt an old, familiar ache in my head and sighed.
Hades's rare laugh broke through the moment, unexpected and warm. "A problem for another time," he said, eyes glinting with something almost playful. "And maybe a solution for you as well."
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, real and unburdened. "I've missed this, Hades."
His grin widened, true and full, a memory of who we once were. "Me too, little brother. Me too."
For a heartbeat, we were more than kings and gods. We were brothers again.
Percy's PoV:
I watched as Rhea's children surged forward to embrace her, even Gaia. The second-generation gods hesitated only a moment before joining, their apprehension melting into something softer. Across the clearing, Zeus and Hades moved to reunite with their mother, while Artemis lingered, torn between the reunion and where I stood. Her eyes flickered with an emotion I couldn't quite read, sparking a pang of concern deep within me. But I stayed where I was, apart, casting wary glances at the demigods. Fear was plain on their faces—anyone could see that—but my greatest worry was what they now thought of me. Annabeth's withdrawal, her distance—unfair to call it rejection, but it still felt like one—was an open wound.
Taking a deep breath, I started toward them, anxiety knotting tighter with each step. They didn't move to meet me, but they didn't retreat either. It was something.
The tension shattered when Jason smacked the back of my head, playful but firm. "Next. Time. Don't. Run. Off. Where. We. Can't. Follow!" His voice shook with frustration. "Do you have any idea how worried we were? How devastated? We thought you died!"
"I did…" The words slipped out, and I immediately regretted them. Not my finest moment.
Hazel and Frank exchanged exasperated glances, Frank muttering something under his breath while Hazel facepalmed.
"Dude… are you, like, special or something?" Leo chimed in, incredulity lacing his voice. "Because that's really not helping your case." Hazel, emphasizing his point, snapped, "Idiot!"
"We were devastated, Percy," Piper said, her eyes meeting mine before shifting to Annabeth with an unreadable look—a mixture of sorrow and something else, almost longing. "Annabeth was inconsolable."
"I'm sorry," I said, the weight of it pressing against my chest. "It felt like I was pulled by something I couldn't fight, like I was meant to be there. But you're right. If it had been any of you, I don't know what I would have done."
"It's fine," Hazel said, though her voice trembled, her pain palpable. "But this isn't over. We need to talk. What happened with Thoon—I can't feel that helpless again. I won't. Watching you die… it's something I can't go through again."
"Same," Jason said, his tone resolute. "But first, we need to do something about camp. Nico, Reyna, everyone we care about—they're in danger. We can't leave them. Is Gaia… is she peaceful now? Can she stop the armies? Or can the gods intervene? I know they're busy with their reunion, but lives are at stake." Trust Jason to get right to the point.
"I'll take us there now," I said, noticing their wide-eyed, stunned expressions. "I can flash us there. I've spoken with Gaia—she's not fighting us anymore, but negotiations still need to happen. The gods can't intervene; ancient laws bind them. But those same laws don't apply to me as they do to the Olympians. I may be a god, but oaths taken on the sea that I now rule, well it doesn't hold the same weight for me as others. The Olympians don't know that mind you, which means... things might get chaotic."
They stared at me, unsure whether to bow or keep treating me like the Percy they knew.
"Please, I'm still Percy. Don't treat me any differently. You're my friends, my family."
Leo burst out laughing. "My friend's a god! Oh, this is going to be fun."
A smile tugged at my lips as I considered telling them everything—my plans, my hopes, how I wanted them with me for whatever came next. But that could wait. For now, there was only one thing left to do.
"Let's go kill some monsters."
Preview Book Two: (First)
The party was… intoxicating. I stood at the heart of Olympus's grand park, where Olympians, minor gods, and nature spirits danced in the heat of celebration. Music thrummed through the air, weaving with laughter and the clinking of goblets. Nature spirits moved like wind, wild and free. Many adorned in tight dresses that clung to their forms, others shedding even that, their bodies bare under the soft torchlight that flickered across marble pathways. Roses, lilacs, marigolds, and flowers of every hue bordered the trails, releasing a heady perfume that mingled with the sweet scent of ripened fruit dangling from trees overhead.
I drifted through the crowd, feeling the weight of countless eyes on me. Wood nymphs with eyes full of desire brushed against me, goddesses in silks whispered playful invitations, and even a few gods cast their glances my way, bold with desire. Zeus's deep, rolling laughter echoed somewhere in the distance,clearly he was enjoying my discomfort.
The night seemed to pause as if holding its breath, and then, as if conjured from shadow and starlight, the most beautiful wood nymph I'd ever seen appeared before me. Her skin, a radiant green that glistened under the flicker of torchlight, was smooth and inviting. Her eyes, a deep, muddy brown, glimmered with a playful mischief that dared me to step closer. Raven-black hair cascaded down to her waist, catching the light as it swayed with her movements. Her toned stomach drew my eye, and though her breasts were small, they were perfectly formed, lifting with each subtle breath. Pointed ears peeked out from beneath her dark locks, giving her an almost ethereal allure.
With effortless grace, she let the woven dress fall to her feet, the fabric whispering against the marble path as it slid away. She stood before me, unashamed and hungry, a smile curving her lips—a look that spoke of confidence, of knowing the effect she had. It was magnetic. My pulse quickened, every nerve in my body thrumming as if tuned to the same silent song.
For a heartbeat, I faltered, caught in the warmth radiating between us, the heady pull of temptation whispering at the edges of reason.
But something deeper stirred within me, a tether that pulled me back from the edge of that moment. My gaze shifted upward, instinctively drawn to the silver glow of the moon, steady and eternal above us. Its light bathed the garden, soft and serene, a contrast to the heat simmering between us. In that glow, I felt the unmistakable presence of the Huntress, an echo of something more profound—a whispered vow, a connection that went beyond the shallow lure of desire. It was a reminder of a true yearning, one that spoke to the soul, pure and unwavering, unlike the fleeting pull of flesh and lust.
The spell of the moment loosened its grip, and I took a steadying breath, the warmth in my chest steadying me, guiding me back to who I was.
I smiled at her, warm but apologetic. "You're beautiful, but I really have to go," I said, leaving a very bewildered nymph in my wake as I made my way toward my father's palace. The halls of Poseidon's realm had become my refuge during these long, exhausting negotiations. Fortunately, I wasn't alone in this divine playground. The Seven and a few of my other demigod friends were on Olympus too. They didn't yet know the reason for their extended stay, but I could barely contain my excitement. Tonight, they were all off watching a movie down the mountain, giving me a rare moment of solitude beneath the stars.
I made a mental note to send them an Iris message, inviting them back to my father's palace. He never minded, and the place was big enough for all of us. But before I could lose myself in the soft, celestial glow overhead, a voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Might have to promise you to someone, boy." Hades's voice, deep and dry, carried a faint hint of amusement. He stood a few paces away, a thin but genuine smile playing on his lips. "The male Aphrodite, that's what they'll call you now. It'll be entertaining to watch the goddesses who once mocked us scramble and fawn." His eyes gleamed with dark humor. "But I'm not joking. If they aren't careful, Zeus might just pick a bride for you himself. He's married to Hera, after all, and her ways have rubbed off on him. He won't let conflict threaten our newfound peace." Hades leaned in, his smile growing. "A word of advice, nephew: tread carefully. Tartarus hath no fury like a spurned goddess."
I couldn't help but chuckle, despite the uncomfortable truth in his words. "Thanks for the warning, Uncle,"
Preview (Two)
Percy's PoV:
I sat on the temporary throne beside my father's, the fourteenth now becoming the fifteenth, if only for the moment. The seat was simple, unadorned—a stark contrast to the intricate thrones of the Olympians surrounding me. Eyes settled on me—some filled with fear, others with envy, and a few with quiet joy. My father's face glowed with pride, Uncle Hades offered a rare, approving smile, and even Zeus inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"We have much to discuss," Zeus began, his voice rumbling with a thunderous power that made the palace tremble. Ever the dramatic, I thought with a smirk. "Six and a half millennia ago, when we overthrew my father, we divided this universe, carving up the spoils of his kingdom amongst ourselves. But when we defeated the Titans this time, there was no such luxury. War fell once more upon us, far too swiftly, leaving no room for celebration, no time to distribute spoils or establish new boundaries. Now, with the defeat of the Giants, we must finally address those matters. The lines of the universe must be redrawn, our kingdoms and domains redefined, rewards allotted, punishments decreed. Servants, wealth, power, artifacts—each must be deliberated and distributed. And beyond that, a new political structure must be forged now that this war has ended.
This will be long and arduous, nephew. Prepare yourself—this will make the Congress of Vienna look like a mere playground squabble, and the celebrations to come will make their grandest balls seem like the drunken antics of a frat boy. Are you ready to play this godly game of power?"
I met my uncle's gaze and smiled, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "You have no idea, dear uncle."
The End ~