Chapter 36: Her Fate
Severance Arc IV
"—have no love for them," Dionysus was saying, his tone as bored as ever. "Athena, do you truly think it safest to destroy them?"
The words drifted toward Thalia like sound underwater—distant, garbled, impossible to grasp. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, and for a moment, she didn't know where she was. The marble beneath her knees, the towering thrones, the gods' voices—it all blurred together, unreal and weightless.
"I do not pass judgment," Athena said, her voice crisp and unyielding. "I only point out the risk. What we do, the Council must decide."
Thalia's head throbbed as she tried to make sense of Athena's words. The throne room—the gods—it was all wrong. She'd been here before. The thought struck, hazy and uncertain, like a half-remembered dream. Then it came to her. Months ago. After they defeated Atlas. The gods, the thrones, the tension crackling through the air. It was the same. The exact same. Her breath caught as the realization took hold, sharp and disorienting. This moment wasn't new. It had already happened. And now she was standing in it again.
"I will not have them punished," Artemis said.
The voice anchored her, clear and steady, cutting through the haze like moonlight breaking through clouds. Thalia's eyes snapped toward the sound. Artemis stood tall, silver robes shimmering, her gaze fixed on the gathered gods.
"If we destroy heroes who do us a great favor, then we are no better than the Titans," the goddess continued. "If this is Olympian justice, I will have none of it."
Thalia's breath steadied, the disorientation fading. Reality sharpened. Their conversation replayed in her mind. She knew what was happening. She turned her head and saw him.
Percy stood only a few feet away, tense and alert, his dark hair damp and sticking up in odd angles. His sea-green eyes locked on the gods, determination etched into every line of his face. Alive. Whole. No blood, no ragged breaths, no collapsing beneath Kronos's blade.
A flutter of relief surged through her chest, fragile and overwhelming. Her heart tripped over itself, and she barely resisted the instinct to reach out—to touch him, to confirm he was real.
But she didn't. She couldn't.
He doesn't know.
Thalia stood there, rooted in place, the weight of everything pressing down on her. Percy was right there—so close, so real—and yet impossibly distant. The warmth of his presence wrapped around her like a familiar melody, soothing the raw edges of her frayed nerves.
And then his voice broke through the haze.
"You can't," Percy said, his tone tight with conviction as he looked at Zeus. "Controlling the prophecies never works."
The sound of his voice wrapped around her like warmth after a long, freezing night. For a moment, she didn't care what he was saying—only that he was here, alive, and speaking. It didn't make sense. None of this did. Moments ago, she'd been locked in a battle that tore Olympus apart. Lightning. Blood. Kronos's scythe. And Percy—dying right in front of her.
Now he stood there unharmed, arguing with gods as if the world hadn't just ended.
"—have a new lieutenant," Artemis said. "And I intend to choose one. But first, Father Zeus, I must speak to you privately."
A wave of anxiety hit Thalia. This is it. The realization settled like ice in her chest. Artemis would return, and when she did, she'd offer Thalia a place in the Hunt. The choice had already been made. She would say yes. She had to.
Her gaze shifted back to Percy. He stood rigid, eyes locked on Annabeth. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, and Thalia recognized the look immediately: fear. He thought Artemis was going to choose Annabeth. His mind was already racing ahead to the possibility of losing her, of watching her walk away.
She wanted to call his name, to tell him he didn't have to be afraid. That if Annabeth became a Hunter they would fall in love and be happy forever. But the words died on her tongue, because it wasn't true. If she stayed, if she became the daughter of the prophecy again, it would all end the same way: Kronos would rise, Percy would fall, and this time, there would be no bracelet to save them.
She saw Percy lean slightly toward Annabeth, his expression filled with worry. She didn't know what he said. It didn't matter.
"I shall have a new lieutenant," Artemis voice snapped Thalia back to reality. "If she will accept it. "Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Will you join the Hunt?"
The throne room seemed to tilt beneath her feet, the weight of the moment pressing down like a collapsing sky. She'd known this was coming. The past few minutes had been a blur of half-heard voices, of fragmented memories bleeding into reality. But now it was here.
Her gaze drifted to Percy. He didn't know. He'd never know. The nights they'd spent talking about what life might look like after Kronos. The way she'd whispered his name in the dark when he was asleep, knowing he couldn't hear her. The kiss they'd shared in the Labyrinth.
Gone.
She could walk away right now. Refuse the offer. Stay. Maybe she could fight fate again, try to hold on just a little longer this time.
But the memory of Kronos's blade cutting through Percy's chest rose unbidden in her mind. The helplessness she'd felt as he'd crumpled. The blinding pain that had fueled her final decision. She couldn't risk that happening to him.
"I will." The words left her lips like the crack of a breaking sky—inevitable, irreversible.
Zeus rose, his eyes full of concern. "My daughter, consider well—"
Thalia's heart lurched. For a split second, she wavered. Please, don't say it. Don't give me a reason to stay.
"Father," she said, her voice splintering beneath the weight of the word. Every syllable felt like glass in her throat, sharp and unforgiving. "I will not turn sixteen tomorrow. I will never turn sixteen. I won't let this prophecy be mine. I stand with my sister Artemis. Kronos will never tempt me again."
She dropped to her knees before Artemis. The words clawed at her throat, but she forced them out—fast, before the ache in her chest could stop her. "I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men..."
The vow rushed past her lips like a dam breaking, desperate and irreversible. If she hesitated—if she gave herself even a second longer—she knew she wouldn't survive the agony of walking away.
She rose unsteadily and turned toward Percy. He stood frozen, as if he too was still processing what was going on.
Before she could stop herself, she crossed the distance and threw her arms around him. His warmth flooded through her, grounding her for one last, agonizing moment.
Percy stiffened in surprise, then hugged her back. Thalia held on like the world might break apart if she let go.
"You're not supposed to do that anymore, right?" he asked.
Thalia's chest ached. The words cut deeper than he realized. Anymore. Not just because she was a Hunter now, but because this moment, this version of them, was already gone—lost to the cracks of time.
"I'm saying goodbye." Her hands tightened on his shoulders. "I must join the Hunt, Percy. You'll be the one of the prophecy."
"Great," he mumbled, forcing a weak smile.
"I'm proud to be part of your story," she whispered. Her hands lingered on his shoulders a moment longer than they should have, memorizing the feel of him. I'll miss you sat on the edge of her tongue, but she swallowed it back. He didn't need the weight of that.
She held his gaze; then she turned away before the tears could betray her and wrapped Annabeth in a quick, unsteady hug.
Thalia's legs carried her to Artemis's side, but her mind stayed behind. The marble floor felt too solid beneath her feet, too real after everything that had happened. Voices blurred together—gods debating, decisions being made—but the words dissolved into static.
Percy's voice still echoed in her mind. His touch lingered on her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing the lump in her throat.
The meeting ended, though Thalia didn't register when. Thalia barely noticed when the gods rose from their thrones, their voices dissolving into a low, indistinct murmur.
"Thalia," Artemis's voice cut through the haze. Thalia blinked and turned her head. The goddess stood beside her. "The council is dismissed. Come."
Thalia followed without thinking, her limbs moving as if pulled by invisible strings. She trailed Artemis through the towering archways of the throne room. The corridor opened into a small, moonlit courtyard. The stars overhead shimmered unnaturally bright, indifferent to the choice that had just altered the course of her life and the world.
The faint hum of music drifted through the air.
Thalia flinched. It was faint but unmistakable—the distant sound of celebration beginning. A cruel contrast to the ache hollowing out her chest.
Artemis stood beside her, silent for a long moment before speaking. "Victory is loud, but sacrifice… sacrifice leaves a quieter weight," she said softly. "Tonight, the world celebrates what you've given them. But I know what it took to make that choice—and what it took from you."
Thalia turned to meet Artemis's gaze but found no words. Her throat tightened, the emptiness pressing in, vast and unyielding. She gave a small nod—more instinct than intention—then looked away.
Artemis's gaze lingered on Thalia . "You won't bear it alone," she said softly. "I'll be there, always. I may not feel what you feel, but I will understand."
Thalia swallowed hard, her vision blurring. The warmth in Artemis's words reached her, but it didn't touch the ache beneath her ribs. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. "Thank you," she whispered. "But…I just need to be alone right now."
Artemis gave an understanding nod "Take what time you need."
Thalia dipped her head and turned away before Artemis could see the tears already threatening to fall. She didn't know where she was going, only that she had to move—had to get away from everything.
Her footsteps quickened. She passed a fountain she didn't recognize and rounded a corner into a shadowed alcove, where ivy crawled along the stone walls. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.
It was safe here. Empty. Forgotten.
Instinctively, her right hand moved to her wrist—to the place where the bracelet should have been. Her fingers met only skin. No familiar weight. The truth crashed down with unbearable clarity. The bracelet was gone because that life was gone. The world where she and Percy had fought side by side, where they'd loved each other with a fierceness that defied prophecy—that world no longer existed.
And neither did the girl who had lived it.
She dropped to her knees, her hands braced against the cold stone as the tears poured out of her. The dam shattered, the emotions she'd held back surging forward with relentless force.
She cried. She cried for the moment she'd seen Percy fall beneath Kronos's scythe. For the unbearable choice she'd made. For the ache of standing beside him only minutes ago, pretending it didn't destroy her.
But mostly, she cried for what she'd lost. For the life they might have had. The future they'd whispered about when the world had grown quiet. For that normal day Percy promised in the infirmary that would never happen.
Her body shook with the force of it, each sob a ragged, visceral thing that tore through her.
Time passed. The tears slowed eventually, leaving her hollow and spent. She sagged against the stone wall, her chest still hitching with the occasional tremor.
The night air cooled her flushed skin. Her eyes ached from crying. Slowly, her breathing steadied.
And then she heard it. The music again. Soft, drifting from somewhere below. The melody threaded through the night air—gentle, wistful, like the faint echo of a dream.
Thalia shifted and pushed herself to her feet. She followed the sound, her steps slow and uncertain. The winding path led to a terrace that overlooked the large, open plaza below. Lanterns floated through the air, casting golden patterns across the marble floor. Demigods and gods alike mingled and laughed.
Her gaze moved through the crowd automatically, searching for one face. She found him within seconds.
Percy stood near the fountain, his hair still messy, his head tilted toward Annabeth as they spoke. Annabeth said something, and Percy grinned.
The music shifted to something slower. Percy extended his hand, and Annabeth took it without hesitation. They stepped into the dance, uncertain at first, but soon moving together with that same unspoken ease they'd always shared. Percy laughed when they nearly collided with a group of dryads, and Annabeth shook her head, smirking.
His laughter rose clear and warm through the night, grounding her like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart.
Her vision blurred with tears she refused to shed. She leaned forward, every muscle in her body taut with the effort of holding herself together. The ache didn't ease. It deepened, sharp and relentless.
Yet beneath it, something else stirred. A fragile thread of peace.
This was what she had sacrificed everything for.
The music swelled, the melody turning lighter as Percy tried to spin Annabeth. He laughed when she stumbled, and Annabeth playfully pushed him, grinning.
This was the life she'd given him. A life where he could dance and laugh beneath floating lanterns, oblivious to the weight she'd shouldered for him. Her chest ached, the kind of ache that wouldn't fade with time. But she held onto that fragile thread of peace, letting it steady her breath. Percy was here. Alive. Safe.
The night air cooled her cheeks, drying the tears she hadn't realized had fallen. The ache remained, heavy and unrelenting. But with it came a quiet certainty.
She would carry this hurt, this loss, for as long as time demanded. Because she loved him enough to let him go.
Thalia stepped back from the terrace. The music drifted after her as she turned toward the shadows, leaving the boy she'd saved—and the boy she'd lost—behind.