The Curia was in chaos.Voices clashed like swords, senators rising from their seats, all talking—no, shouting—at once. Anger, fear, confusion. It thickened the air like smoke from a battlefield. Even the marble columns of the Senate house seemed to groan under the weight of their panic."We should call back all patrols!""No, evacuate! Before they strike again!""This wasn't just an attack—this was war!""The gods have abandoned us!"I didn't flinch. I refused to. I sat still, gripping the carved armrests of my chair as if the wood could anchor me. I waited until I couldn't take it anymore.Then I stood."Enough!" My voice cracked like lightning through a storm. The room froze. Every senator turned to look at me. The silence that followed wasn't peaceful—it was tight, coiled, on the verge of snapping."We are the Senate of New Rome," I said, voice low but firm. "Not panicked legionnaires on their first guard duty. So unless someone actually has a plan, stop yelling."Silence.No one stepped forward.No brilliant solutions. No emergency proposals. Just wide eyes and shifting gazes.Then Percy stood.His usual spark was dulled. Shoulders slumped slightly, eyes dark with exhaustion—but his voice was steady."I think we need to take this to Olympus," he said. "This wasn't random. A goddess was kidnapped. This kind of power—it screams god-level. If we don't talk to them, we'll be left behind."A few younger senators murmured agreement. But the older ones were already shaking their heads."So now we run to Olympus for help?" Senator Albinus sneered."New Rome didn't survive the fall of the Republic by crying to Jupiter every time someone rattled a sword.""The gods aren't our parents," another snapped. "We're not helpless children."Percy didn't rise to the bait. "This isn't about being helpless. It's about answers. Something's going on, and the gods need to be part of the solution—or at least give us a clue."A pause.Then Senator Narda leaned forward. "What about the weapon?"Murmurs followed instantly."Yes—how did they cut through celestial bronze like it was nothing?""That goddess was attacked with something… unnatural.""I saw a blade—it didn't glow. But it carved through shields like paper.""We need to find out what that weapon was," someone added, "before it ends up pointed at the Capitol."I tensed. That weapon had done more than damage shields.My eyes found Percy again. His hand was resting on a familiar item—but it was wrong. Riptide. Usually gleaming, always clipped confidently to his side. But now? It was in pen form, bent almost in half, the casing twisted like a crushed soda can.A centurion had brought it to me earlier that morning. Found in the rubble near the border. Percy hadn't mentioned it.But I could see the way he stared at it now. Like it was a wound."That sword," I said aloud, "was celestial bronze. It was also enchanted to return to Percy. It's not supposed to break."Several senators turned to look at him now, some whispering."So if it did break—""Then whatever did it is a threat to all of us," I said. "Which means this isn't just a border incident. This is bigger. We need to treat it that way."That's when Julian rose. The Centurion of the Third Cohort looked as crisp and sharp as ever, but his brow was furrowed."This would be a quest," he said. "And we have no augur. No visions. No prophecy to guide us. Sending our Praetors blind into danger is reckless."More murmurs. A few heads nodding."And what would you have us do, Julian?" I asked. "Sit and wait for a prophecy that might never come?""We've survived without omens before," someone muttered."Barely," someone else added under their breath."We'll need to protect the city," said one of the first cohort senators. "If our borders are vulnerable, we must seal them."I nodded. "Agreed. The Legion will set up layered defenses. No one gets in or out without clearance. In the meantime, Percy and I will travel to New York. This will be a diplomatic mission, not a quest. We won't go looking for war—we'll go seeking answers."Percy spoke again, his voice calm. "If it does turn into something bigger, at least Reyna and I can handle it. Better us than a group of untested campers."For a moment, the room hung in stillness. Then the votes were cast.Younger senators—eager for change, forward-thinking—voted in favor.The older senators, rooted in tradition, frowned but couldn't stop the count.The motion passed.Percy and I would leave for Olympus.As the chamber emptied, senators still whispering, I stepped down and made my way to Percy. He didn't speak. Just turned the bent pen over in his hand.He hadn't said a word about it breaking. Typical. Always carrying the weight alone.I stood beside him, close enough for him to feel the unspoken support.New Rome had been shaken._We lingered outside the Curia.Before we could speak, Frank and Hazel approached, still in their Legion armor, still carrying that unshakable steadiness."We're coming with you," Frank said immediately.Hazel nodded. "You'll need backup."Percy managed a tired smile. "Thanks. But… we need you here. The city's rattled. They trust you. Set the defenses, steady the Legion. And… reach out to Jason and Nico at Camp Half-Blood. We'll need them soon."Hazel touched his arm. "Of course."Frank clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll hold the line.""So," I said gently, "what happened out there? With the sword?"Percy exhaled slowly. "Her sword—Eris's—it hit Riptide. I don't know how, but it shattered. Split it into four. That sword… it felt old. Tragic. Like it had a history soaked in pain.""What about your fight?" I asked.He looked at me for a moment. "Your turn first."I recounted what I could. The ambush. The force of chaos in the battlefield. And Ethan—the way he commanded the shadows. When I mentioned him, Percy stiffened. But he said nothing. That silence bothered me more than a thousand words would have."I'll prep rations and supplies tonight," I told him. "We leave first thing."Percy nodded, then hesitated. His hand went to his pocket. Slowly, like it hurt to move, he pulled out Riptide.Or what was left of it.The pen looked like it had been through a war on its own. Crushed. Bent. The cap hung on by a thread. The celestial bronze core inside it was exposed, cracked, and lifeless."Can you… hold onto it?" he asked. His voice barely carried. "I can't keep looking at it like this."He held it out to me, but didn't let go right away."It's not just a weapon. It's—it's been with me through everything. All the monsters. All the quests. The friends. The losses. And now…"He finally let go, fingers trailing as I took it."I haven't done right by its last owner," he muttered. "Not lately."I didn't ask who he meant. Not yet. I had a few guesses—but guessing wasn't the same as understanding. And he wasn't ready. I saw it in the way his shoulders curled in, like if I asked the wrong question he might collapse in on himself.Instead, I stepped closer."I'll keep it safe," I promised.He nodded. "Thanks."There was a pause. The night air between us felt heavier than usual."I know I should be focused," he said quietly. "But everything feels… off. Like I'm holding a sword made of glass and I don't know when it'll shatter.""You're not made of glass, Percy.""Feels like it," he said, laughing without humor. "And if I am, Riptide was the one part holding it all together. Now that it's broken…"He didn't finish."You're more than your sword," I said. "And definitely more than your past."He looked at me then, like he wanted to believe it."I don't know who I am right now," he admitted. "I'm not the kid from Camp Half-Blood anymore. I'm not really Roman either. Just… stuck."I reached out, briefly touched his wrist."You're you," I said. "That's more than enough."We stood in silence for a moment, the city quiet around us, save for the faint marching of legionnaires preparing the walls.He sighed and looked at my villa. "You should rest. I didn't mean to unload all that.""I'll stay up a little longer," I said. "Think through logistics."Percy turned to go, but paused. "Reyna?""Yeah?""Thanks. For listening. And for not… asking too much.""Not yet," I said. "But I will."He gave a tired smile. "Figured.""Sleep well," I said gently. "We've got a long road ahead."
And this time, he didn't argue.