Percy's dream felt heavier this time. He found himself in an endless void, the air thick with
tension. The chilling voice from before spoke again, its words slow and deliberate.
"The pieces are in place," it said. "The siege will begin soon."
A second voice joined in—this one female, sharp yet eerily calm. "Two places at once. They will
not be able to stop both."
Percy tried to move, but he felt bound, as if the shadows themselves held him in place. The
familiar voice, the one that grated on his nerves, sneered. "I should be leading the charge. Not
her."
"All in due time," the deeper voice assured.
"Let the storm begin."
Percy jolted awake to Frank shaking his shoulder. "Percy, get up! New Rome is under siege!"
Still groggy, Percy scrambled to his feet, throwing on his armor as he followed Frank outside. By
the time they arrived at the border, older senators—including Julian—were already gathered,
murmuring their disapproval at Percy's delayed arrival. But Percy barely paid them any mind.
His attention was on the battlefield ahead.
The invading army was feasible for New Rome to take on, but their presence alone was an
issue. The soldiers were a chaotic mix—monsters, rogue demigods, and even spirits of war.
Before anything could happen, Terminus materialized, his stone face grim.
"A goddess is at the border. She demands to speak with Praetor Jackson."
Reyna stepped up beside Percy. "I should go with you."
Percy smirked. "I think I can handle one goddess."
Reyna crossed her arms. "You handled H
Many, sure. But this is someone different."
Percy grinned. "I mean, I handled Kronos too."
Reyna raised an eyebrow. "You were invincible back then."
Percy chuckled. "I'm basically invincible now—just without the title."
They shared a moment of silent defiance until Terminus huffed, "Enough! There are invaders
crossing the Pomerian Line as we speak!"
Reyna sighed, then barked orders. "Third and Fourth Cohorts, with me! Percy, be careful."
Percy nodded and stepped toward the border. Standing there, waiting with an amused smirk,
was a tall woman with dark hair that seemed to shimmer with colors that didn't belong in reality.
She wore battle armor that shifted and twisted unnaturally, as if even her appearance refused to
stay still.
"Eris," Percy muttered.
The Goddess of Chaos grinned. "Oh, you recognize me? How delightful."
Percy rolled his shoulders. "You planning to surrender, or…?"
Eris laughed. "Oh, my dear Praetor. I was about to ask you the same thing."
Percy gave her a wry smile. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to pass on that." Then he drew his sword
and shouted, "Vae Victis!"
The cry echoed, and New Rome's forces surged forward. The battle erupted instantly, but Eris's
focus remained on Percy.
She lunged, and their one-on-one fight began.
Their clash was evenly matched. Eris fought unpredictably, her strikes wild but impossibly
precise. She wielded a blade that seemed to flicker between different shapes—one moment a
sword, the next a jagged dagger, then a massive axe. Percy barely dodged a downward strike
as the ground beneath him cracked from the force.
He countered with quick, precise slashes, forcing Eris on the defensive. She grinned at him,
amused. "Good, good! You fight with purpose. But let's add a little… chaos."
With a flick of her hand, the battlefield warped. Swords turned into balloons, shields crumbled
into dust, and Roman soldiers were lifted into the air by floating
bubbles—including Percy. He struggled to pop his own before Eris swung at him. He barely
managed to deflect it with Riptide, but the impact sent a sharp crack through his blade.
Then, in horror, he watched as Riptide shattered into four pieces.
Eris laughed gleefully. "Oops! Looks like your trusty blade couldn't handle a little disorder."
Anger surged through him. Drawing on the moisture around them, Percy condensed the dew
into a spiraling column of water. Eris smirked—until she felt herself being lifted into the air. Percy
shaped the water into a sharp spike, aiming it at her.
Her amused expression faltered for a split second, and Percy seized on it. He tightened his grip,
ready to end this—
But before he could strike, she vanished into nothing. The chaos stopped instantly, and without
her influence, the Roman army quickly overwhelmed the remaining invaders.
Percy stood in the silence of the battlefield, breathing heavily. He looked down at what remained
of Riptide—broken, shattered. He picked up the pieces, a strange sadness settling over him.
The battle was won, but at what cost?
Normally, under different circumstances, I would've enjoyed going into battle alongside my
fellow Romans. But I needed this moment—to think about my outburst, about the battle, and
mostly about Percy. I trusted him to lead the First, Second, and Fifth Cohorts into battle; he was
Praetor, after all. He could handle it.
I was so lost in thought that I barely noticed Tony Machs, a son of Honos and the youngest
Centurion in the legion, waving me down like a madman. Cursing myself for the distraction, I
descended from the tower where I had been stationed.
"Yes, Centurion Machs, what is it? I assume this is important and not another request from the
Third Cohort asking if they can go home?" I quipped.
Tony chuckled. Ever since he arrived from Lupa's training, he had been nothing but a joy to
have in New Rome—hardworking, dedicated, and always willing to help. That attitude had
earned him his Centurion position early.
"Praetor, the Fourth has heard screaming and—uh—yelling... and barking? It's coming from
about two blocks away from our position. Your command?"
My stomach dropped. Barking?
It dawned on me that Aurum and Argentum hadn't been by my side all day. And now there was
barking. Distressed barking.
I turned pale. "Centurion, hold your position and keep the Cohorts in formation. Tell the Third to
locate Terminus and reinforce the border—without him, the entire structure could collapse."
Tony nodded and sprinted off to relay the
orders while I ran in the opposite direction toward the noise, praying my wolves were okay.
Minutes later, I reached the location Tony had indicated. To my left, the scene made my blood
boil. Three shadowy figures stood near a large, writhing sack—someone was inside. But what
truly enraged me was what I saw beside it.
Aurum and Argentum were bound, their metallic forms struggling against thick chains. One of
the figures—a man, judging by his build—was lifting them, preparing to shove them into another
sack. At that moment, the kidnappers finally noticed me.
Now, when I say "shadowy figures," I mean two of them were entirely shrouded in darkness, as
if the light around them was being swallowed. The third, however, was only partially covered in
shadows. I could see some of his human features, including a distinct eyepatch. He looked like
a corrupted pirate.
"If I were you, Praetor, I'd turn around and pretend you never saw us," the taller shadowed man
said, his tone casual yet threatening.
I clenched my fists. "And if I were you, I'd suggest dropping my dogs and walking away before I
make you regret staying."
He laughed. The second figure, a woman, let go of Aurum and turned toward me.
"I'd love to fight you, Praetor, any day of the week. But we're on a tight schedule. Eris is keeping
your hero occupied—not that she's the brightest strategist."
The two shadowy figures chuckled as if sharing some inside joke. My mind raced. Was the
entire army just a distraction? Keeping Percy and the Romans busy so they could kidnap my
wolves? That didn't make any sense.
Then the other sack started thrashing violently.
"Praetor Reyna!" a muffled voice shouted from inside. "I suggest you hurry up and get me OUT
OF HERE! This is no way to treat a god who has done nothing wrong!"
My blood ran cold. That was Terminus.
They weren't just after Aurum and Argentum. They were trying to collapse the border.
"There you go," the shadowy man mocked.
"You're so smart."
The female figure chuckled. "We do have time for a little entertainment, don't we? Maybe Ethan
would like to prove himself."
She gestured toward the partially shadowed figure with the eyepatch. He hesitated before
stepping forward with a reluctant sigh. His glassy eyes unsettled me—as if he'd seen horrors
beyond comprehension.
I drew my sword. "You're not taking them."
The shadowy man let out an exaggerated sigh. "We'd love to stay and chat, but Eris is losing to
Jackson and—OH, SHUT UP!" He kicked the sack carrying Terminus as if that would silence
him.
At the mention of Percy, Ethan visibly tensed. I used that moment to strike first.
Ethan was a skilled fighter. As we circled each other, exchanging thrusts and parries, I could tell
he wasn't trained in the Roman style—Greek, maybe? Despite his eyepatch, he guarded his
blind side well. I made the mistake of glancing at Aurum and Argentum, still whimpering in their
restraints, and in that moment of distraction, Ethan landed a solid punch to my cheek.
"You don't want to do this, Praetor," he muttered.
"Trust me, you didn't want to take my dogs."
Fueled by anger, I pressed harder. I was faster; he was stronger. But speed won out. A few
strikes later, I disarmed him.
Before I could finish the fight, the shadowy man growled and vanished—only to reappear behind
me. A solid kick to my back sent me sprawling. Groaning, I looked up just in time to see his
smug grin.
"This was fun, Praetor, I'll give you that. But not even Jackson could take us on. So, if you'll
excuse me—"
A portal of writhing shadows opened beneath them. The shadowy woman grabbed Ethan by the
collar and tossed him inside, then unceremoniously threw in Aurum and Argentum. My wolves
howled. I stifled a sob as Terminus—still shouting indignantly—was hurled in as well.
The shadowy man gave me a mock salute before stepping into the darkness. The portal sealed
itself with a pulse of energy, and in an instant, the colors of the world returned to normal.
Tony and the Fourth Cohort arrived moments
later, lifting me up. I wasn't even angry that they disobeyed my orders—I was just devastated
that I had failed.
"I know you told us to hold the border, but we heard fighting and—" Tony looked genuinely
concerned. "What happened?"
"No time," I muttered. "We need to regroup. We have to check on Percy's team."
We moved quickly, linking up with the Third Cohort before crossing the border. The battle was
over. Percy stood with Riptide—no, the broken remnants of Riptide—in his hand, facing an
enemy at point-blank range.
For a fleeting moment, I felt proud of him. But then, the enemy let out a fit of laughter before
vanishing.
The Romans surged forward, lifting Percy into the air, chanting, "Praetor! Praetor!" Third and
Fourth Cohorts joined in, unaware of what had just transpired.
Percy locked eyes with me. His gaze was filled with something I rarely saw in him—fear.
He ran to my side. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"They took Terminus! And my dogs!"
Before I could explain further, the air around us shifted.
Cracks spread through the protective dome over New Rome. Then, with a groaning, shattering
sound, the barrier collapsed.
"Shields up!" Hazel shouted.
Percy yanked me under his shield as debris rained down. Romans scrambled to protect
themselves, raising their shields in unison.
When the dust settled, silence followed. Around us, fragments of the once-powerful border lay in
ruins.
New Rome was defenseless.