THADDEUS POV
"The pearls," Percy blurted out.
That's when, for the first time in a while, a flicker of hope actually sparked in me.
Annabeth's brows knitted. "What?"
"The pearls—Persephone's pearls!" Percy dug into his pocket and pulled them out. They gleamed faintly even under the eerie, dim glow of the Underworld. "They'll take us back to the surface!"
I groaned, slapping a hand over my face. "You're telling me… we had those this whole time? Like, the whole time? First thing we got before we even came down here, and we just forgot? Unbelievable. Absolutely phenomenal. I'm genuinely restraining myself from swearing in every single language I possibly know—and a few I don't."
Hades tilted his head. "There are five of you," he pointed out, steepling his fingers. "And three pearls. Last I checked, my dear nephew, five is not three."
Percy stiffened, grip tightening around the pearls. "Then we just—" He hesitated. "We just have to figure something out."
Hades smirked. "Oh, by all means. I enjoy watching mortals struggle with impossible dilemmas."
Three pearls. Five people. Percy. Annabeth. Grover. Sally. And me.
Someone wasn't going back.
The room grew quiet, tension thick enough to choke on. The math wasn't hard, but the cost? That was the problem.
"As I've said before, I can still grant you all a way out," Hades said after a pause, reclining again. "Not where you want to go. Not the safest route. Although there are… options."
No one liked the sound of that.
Before we could spiral further into this moral crisis, Persephone returned, balancing a tray of drinks like she hadn't just watched her husband nearly get his skull caved in.
She stopped short when she saw the pearls. "Well, well," she mused. "Isn't this a surprise? I haven't seen these in a while."
Percy turned to her, eyes hopeful. "You can help us, right?"
She hummed thoughtfully as she set the tray down. "I could... though it's far more entertaining watching you all squirm."
Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose like she was seconds from snapping. Grover looked one deep breath away from fainting.
And me?
I was in my own little world, casually leaning back and chugging what was supposed to be plain ambrosia. Except, of course, Persephone—being Persephone—had decided to spice it up into some kind of ambrosia cocktail. Probably with a dash of "chaos" and "mild emotional trauma."
"This is… weirdly smooth," I muttered, taking another sip. "You guys stress way too much."
Percy glared at me. "Thad, focus."
I held up a finger, still sipping. "Oh, I'm focusing. And I think I just got an idea."
I exhaled slowly, feeling the burn of exhaustion crawl up my legs again as Grover helped me up. I was still aching all over—less blender, more badly folded laundry—but I could work with that.
"I'm good, I'm good," I muttered, waving him off. "Just… gimme some space, yeah? Need a little room for this one."
Grover hesitated, glancing between me, the pearls, and the mildly offended King of the Underworld whose floor I was about to graffiti. In his hooves, that was probably a reasonable checklist of concerns. Still, to his credit, he stepped back, no questions asked.
I knelt and pressed the tip of my staff to the floor.
Lines. Circles. Arcs. Symbols that didn't follow any logic I consciously knew and yet they slid into place with eerie familiarity. It wasn't language—at least, not one I could name. It was instinct. Motion. Rhythm.
"This is… weird," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. "It's like déjà vu, except it's screaming instead of whispering. Like I've done this before."
I paused mid-stroke, eyes narrowing. "I don't even know what this is. But my hands won't stop moving. Like muscle memory for something I never learned."
There was no voice in my head. No glowing-eyed prophecy. Just… a pull. A magnetic weight dragging my thoughts forward. Something familiar, and I couldn't tell if that made it comforting or horrifying.
I kept going.
Hades, still draped dramatically across his throne. "You know, if you're going to vandalize my floors, the least you could do is ask."
I didn't even glance up. "My bad, Your Highness," I said, finishing a sweeping arc. "Should I file a formal complaint? Submit a floor-scratch request in triplicate?"
He sighed heavily. "You are insufferable."
"Yeah, heard that before."
And then—click.
The final rune slotted into place with a soft, audible pulse. I stepped into the center, breath catching.
The second my foot touched the middle, the entire circle lit up, blue light weaving through the etchings like water finding cracks. A low hum rippled through the air, deep and resonant, vibrating through my chest like a heartbeat that wasn't mine.
I flinched, but didn't move. Instead, I closed my eyes.
"To light a way home…" I whispered, almost unconsciously. "That's... That's what voice said…"
A flicker.
Memory? No—impression. A woman's voice, distant, not heard but felt. Her hand on my shoulder. The scent of rain. The sound of bells.
And something else.
The circle responded. The glow sharpened. The lines expanded outward in perfect symmetry. I could feel the magic recognizing us—me—not as a caster, instead as a key.
Whatever I had just activated… it was older than gods.
And it was listening.
And just like that—the runes answered.
I let out a slow breath, watching the runes pulse and flicker beneath me, their glow like embers sparking in the dark. Everyone was staring—Annabeth, Percy, Grover… even Hades and Persephone.
"Okay, so… what exactly did you just do?" Percy asked, shifting uneasily.
I tightened my grip on the staff, fingers brushing over the carved runes that felt both familiar and utterly foreign. "Now that's a solid question," I said, shrugging. "Wish I had a solid answer."
Annabeth folded her arms. "You don't even know?"
"Not in the way you're hoping for," I replied, casually. "It's not about knowing—it's about feeling." I nudged one of the glowing sigils with the toe of my boot, watching the ripple of light dance outward. "This isn't from a textbook. I didn't learn this from a scroll or a fancy old mentor. This… remembers me."
Grover tilted his head. "That made zero sense."
"Yeah, welcome to my daily life," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "Okay, maybe if I put it like this: ever have a word stuck on the tip of your tongue? You know it, it's there, yet you just can't say it? Or those dreams that feel way too real, but the moment you wake up, they slip out of reach?"
Still blank stares. A sprinkle of concern.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Now, imagine a knowing that's not spoken. No instructions. Just… gut-level awareness. Like your instincts suddenly got smarter and started speaking a different language."
Hades raised a brow, swirling the last bit of wine in his glass. "A silent voice? How philosophical."
"Exactly," I said, brushing off his snark. "And it's not just that. It's a memory that doesn't belong to me. A touch I never felt. A feeling older than my bones. Like—I don't know—breathing. Nobody teaches you that. You just do it. And this? This feels the same. Like something deep in me knew exactly what to do… before I did."
Annabeth frowned, kneeling to inspect the glowing runes. "So this is instinct?"
"Old-school instinct," I nodded, snapping a finger. "Like something ancient in me finally decided to stop napping. Muscle memory, instead for magic."
Persephone let out a low hum, leaning against the nearest chair as she sipped from her wine glass. "Sounds like someone's had an Awakening."
Hades' demeanor shifted. The smirk slipped slightly. His gaze turned sharp. "And do you even know what you've awakened?"
I blinked, uneasy now. "…What the hell is that?"
Persephone set her glass down, a soft clink against the stone table. "Awakenings aren't new. Mortals, demigods, even monsters… they sometimes break through the veil between what they are and what they're meant to become. A kind of spiritual puberty."
"Some Awaken with clarity," Hades continued, eyes not leaving mine. "Others with madness. Though most? Power. Potential. They tap into parts of themselves long buried, whether by design or fate. Some are called Chosen. Others, Cursed."
"But none of them," Persephone added slowly, "none of them feel like you."
I swallowed hard. "That supposed to be comforting?"
"Not especially," she said, almost amused.
Hades stood now, slowly, folding his hands behind his back. "We've seen Awakened. Children of Nyx who could see through shadows. Heirs of Hecate whose words bent reality. Some were blessed by elder forces—gods so old, even the Olympians whisper their names in caution."
"Some belonged to pantheons that faded," Persephone added. "Forgotten, devoured by time. Yet fragments remain. Echoes. Relics. Occasionally… a spark survives."
I looked between them. "So you think that's what I am? Some forgotten legacy?"
Hades shook his head. "No. That would be too easy."
"You're not like them," Persephone said, stepping closer. "There's… something in you. Sleeping. Watching. Even now. The magic around you doesn't bend—it listens. And that's not typical."
"Which raises a very old, very dangerous question," Hades said quietly. "If you are Awakened… then who is it that remembers you?"
That silence returned, thick and heavy.
"Sadly, we won't get our answer here," Persephone added with a shrug. "Maybe not for a while. Not until it wants to be known."
"Which is both very mysterious and wildly unhelpful," I muttered.
I looked down at the runes again. Still glowing. Still waiting. Maybe, in some far-off way, it was waiting too.
Whoever—or whatever—I was becoming… it wasn't done yet.
The hum of the runes beneath my boots softened, fading into a quiet thrum, like a heartbeat under the floor. The glow hadn't gone out—it was just waiting now. Like everything else.
I stood there for a moment, letting the silence linger. Everyone was still watching me. Waiting. Judging, maybe. Or just trying to understand what box to put me in.
I ran my thumb along the staff, feeling the grooves like muscle memory. Then I inhaled deeply, my voice low, steady.
"…I'm not from here," I said, leaning slightly on the staff, not for the drama—okay, maybe a little—but because the truth had weight, and I was finally ready to carry it. "And I don't mean 'not from New York' or 'not from this century.' I mean literally not from this world. Different universe. Different rules."
I saw Annabeth's eyes narrow, her brain already doing ten equations at once. Percy blinked like I'd smacked him in the face with a fish.
"And before you ask," I added, tone dry, "no, I don't have a clear idea how or why. Been sittin' on this for a really long time. Figured if I told you, you'd either think I was crazy or toss me into some psychiatric ward."
I paused. "So. There it is."
The silence this time was heavier. Less awkward, more… stunned.
Percy finally broke it. "Wait. Like, different dimension?" His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
"Pretty much," I admitted, giving a half-shrug. "I know how that sounds. Believe me. But it's been a thing for a while. I get these… dreams. Or visions, maybe. And they're not like the usual demigod kind. They're real. They feel real. Like actual moments I've lived—except not here. Not in this world. Everything's off. Colors. People. Even gravity sometimes."
Annabeth stepped forward, brows drawn together. "Fractured memories?"
"Yeah," I said, nodding slowly. "Like glimpses through a shattered mirror. Never whole. They always cut off before I get answers. And it's not just memories—it's this sense. Like the way my magic works? It doesn't follow the rules of this universe. It shouldn't be possible here. But it is. Like it's rewriting the code just by existing."
Persephone studied me now—not with curiosity, but something gentler. "That's why it feels ancient, yet unfamiliar. Not of this world."
Hades looked like he was trying very hard not to scowl. "And yet it listens to you. That… is concerning."
I smiled faintly. "Trust me, I'm just as confused as you are. It's like… like I'm crashing on someone else's couch. This place? This world? It's not mine. I don't belong to it. But somehow, I'm here anyway."
Grover's voice was soft. "Do you know how you got here?"
I hesitated. "No. Not yet. It's like waking up mid-book, someone ripped out the first few chapters, and the rest keeps glitching."
Annabeth glanced down again at the glowing runes. "Then this circle… wasn't just instinct. It is memory."
"Something like that," I said. "Or maybe something remembered through me. I don't know. All I know is that the more I use it—the more I let myself be whatever this is—the more things start to make sense. Not in a logical way. In a… right way."
Persephone and Hades exchanged a long, quiet glance.
Then she spoke, slowly, with something close to reverence. "There have been others. Travelers. Lost fragments. People from broken realms, collapsed timelines, half-born mythologies. But you… you're different."
"You're not a traveler," Hades said grimly. "You're not some cosmic accident. You're an anomaly. Something that wasn't meant to be here—but had to be."
"And that," Persephone added softly, "means something is either very wrong… or very necessary."
I didn't have anything clever to say to that. For once, the sarcasm fell away.
"…Guess we'll find out."
Another pause. No one filled it this time. We all just let it hang there, raw and strange.
Whatever this thing inside me was—this memory that wasn't mine, this power that shouldn't exist—I wasn't alone in noticing it anymore.
I blinked. "Uh—"
I swallowed hard. The words hovered, hesitant at the edge of my throat. Then, finally, I let them out.
"Okay, look... I should've said something earlier. A lot earlier. I've been sitting on this for so long, it just got easier not to talk about it." I tapped my staff lightly against the floor, grounding myself. "I kept secrets. I know that. And I hate that I did. I hate that I didn't trust you all with this sooner."
My voice dropped lower, more serious. "Back at camp—when you and I handled the Minotaur, Percy? That wasn't the first time. Not really. Remember that night at the library? Before any of this started? The night the Minotaur showed up out of nowhere?"
Percy's eyes narrowed in thought, then widened slightly. "Wait… you're saying—?"
"Yeah," I said quietly. "It came for you. Because of the lightning bolt. And I was there. Got caught in the middle. That was the first time you saw something was... off about me. You didn't say it out loud, but I saw it in your face."
I looked around at all of them, pulse kicking up in my ears. "I didn't plan to get involved. I wasn't even supposed to be here. Things just kinda spiraled. Fast. And once I realized how deep I was in... I just kept going."
I gave a bitter laugh. "So yeah. I should've said something. Maybe any of the hundred other chances. But I didn't. Because I was scared you'd look at me differently. Or worse—like a threat."
I let that hang there. "I get it if you're mad. I really do. And you don't have to believe me. I'm not asking for that."
Then Percy, without a second's hesitation, walked forward and wrapped me in a hug.
"I believe you," he said simply, solid and unshakable.
I froze, arms half-raised like I didn't know what to do with them. "...Seriously?"
Percy pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. "Dude, I've fought monsters, met gods, and watched you throw hands with the literal Lord of the Dead. If you say you're from another world, who am I to doubt you?"
Before I could even process that, Grover bounded in next. His arms went around me in a lopsided, goat-legged squeeze.
"Yeah, man. I trust you. Always have." He pulled back, grinning. "Besides, something about you has always been kinda... off."
"Gee, thanks," I muttered, but I couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped. It felt like air after drowning.
Then my gaze shifted to Annabeth.
She was still standing there, arms crossed tight. Eyes sharp and unreadable.
"You're serious about this?" she asked, voice low.
I nodded. "As a heart attack."
She stared for a second longer. Then let out a long breath through her nose and stepped forward.
"I don't know if I believe it yet..." she said, tone careful, "...but I'll help you figure it out."
Relief hit me harder than I expected. I gave her a small nod. "That's more than enough."
She hesitated—then pulled me into the briefest, most tactical hug ever. "Though if you start unraveling time and space? I'm putting you in a box."
"Noted," I said, smirking.
For now, though, we had bigger problems.
"Alright," I said, shaking off the moment and rolling my shoulders. "Focus up. We've got two ways out—my way and Lady Persephone's pearls. Thing is, we've only got three, but five people."
That got their attention. All eyes shifted, the weight of the numbers sinking in fast.
I didn't wait for the panic to settle. "Here comes another Thaddeus Idea!" I announced with a theatrical grin.
Predictably, Percy groaned. "Not again."
"Please no," Annabeth muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Grover just sighed like a man already bracing for impact. "Every time you say that, something explodes."
I held up a hand, smirking. "Relax. Nothing's blowing up this time... probably."
I turned serious again. "Grover, you and Mrs. Jackson—take my exit. Percy, Annabeth, and I are going with the pearls straight to Olympus."
Grover blinked. "Wait, what?"
But before he could argue, Sally gently placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. She met my gaze, her expression calm, composed—grateful. I gave her a faint nod in return.
Hades, who'd been content to just observe from his throne until now, finally spoke, "I feel it. Zeus' patience wears thinner by the second," he warned. "Do not expect a warm welcome."
I let out a breath, steadying myself. "Yeah, well... we're kinda used to that by now. Let's just hope we get there in one piece."
Grover and Mrs. Jackson stepped into the circle, uncertainty written all over their faces. Not that I could blame them. This wasn't some well-practiced spell I learned from a dusty tome. This was pure instinct, a hunch held together by hope, willpower, and whatever ancient memory kept tugging at the back of my mind.
"Where exactly is this thing gonna take us?" Grover asked, glancing down at the glowing runes with narrowed eyes.
"Somewhere in the ballpark of where I'm aiming," I said, twirling my fingers like I was sketching a spiral in the air. "I mean, I can try to send you accurately... still let's not pretend this is NASA-level precision. We're working with interdimensional duct tape here."
Grover's ears drooped. "Not exactly reassuring, dude."
Sally, though, just smiled gently. "I trust you, Thaddeus."
I blinked, caught off guard by the calm in her voice. Then I nodded. "I'll get you where you need to be."
Steeling myself, I raised the staff.
I didn't think. I let my body take over, like some long-lost choreography had been buried in my bones. My hand moved fast and clean, sketching one final rune in the air—sharp, fluid, intentional.
A beacon.
The circle flared to life.
Runes lit in even brighter swirls of blue, white, and silver, threads of light spiraling across the floor like a living thing. The air warped, a deep hum vibrating through the room.
Wind tore around us, harsh and cold, yanking at my jacket. But I didn't flinch.
The magic wasn't just in the staff anymore.
It was in me—threaded into every nerve, every heartbeat, like it belonged there. The runes sparked, fizzled, surged—
And then everything paused.
A moment of silence, so sharp it felt sacred.
I slammed the staff down with a shout: "Go!"
Grover barely had time to let out a high-pitched "meep" before the spell roared to life.
A blinding flash swallowed them, white and brilliant, erasing them in a heartbeat. When the light faded, the circle was empty. No Grover. No Sally. Just a fading heat in the air and a few stubborn sparks flickering in the rune lines before they, too, vanished.
I stood there for a second longer, gripping my staff like an anchor.
Then I exhaled. One step done. Time for the hard part.
"So... you think they made it?" Percy asked.
"Well, they're gone," I said. "Either they landed exactly where I needed them to be... or I might've zapped them to the moon. Either way, not my problem anymore."
Annabeth groaned, arms crossed.
"You are not funny."
I grinned. "I'm hilarious, actually."
Hades, who'd been watching with that unreadable, judgmental-god expression, gave a low hum.
"Impressive work," he said, arms folding. "Rough around the edges, yet effective."
"Eh, you know how it is," I replied, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "A lot of guesswork. Some chaos. Bit of improvising. But it gets the job done."
I spun my staff in my fingers, turning back to the two with a smirk.
"Now let's move—unless you're eager to stick around and find out whether Zeus's lightning bolts come with a 'no take-backsies' policy."
Persephone stepped forward, she held up one of the pearls, and letting it catch the dim firelight like a tiny, glowing moon.
"Listen carefully," she said in a smooth voice. "These pearls will get you out of the Underworld. But they only work on intent. You must focus—think of where you need to be. Picture it clearly. Then crush the pearl beneath your foot. The magic will take care of the rest."
Seemed simple enough.
Annabeth was already halfway through her mental diagnostics. "So it's a localized transportation spell. One-time use. Likely limited by distance, but tethered to a divine anchor point. Olympus is probably the target lock—"
"Yes, yes, precisely," Persephone cut in with a dismissive wave. "If you're her, you understand. If not, just break the thing and think really hard about Olympus."
I gave Percy a look.
"Well. Good luck with that, buddy."
He didn't even dignify it with a response. Fair.
"Alright," Annabeth said, stepping into position. Percy followed suit, gripping his pearl tight in his fist.
I pulled mine out of my pocket, the surface cool and impossibly smooth against my fingers. It hummed faintly.
"Everyone ready?" Percy asked.
"Ready as we'll ever be," I muttered.
In unison, we crushed the pearls beneath our feet.
The effect was instant.
The floor beneath us lit up with sudden intensity—a flash not searing but sharp, like a celestial snap of focus. Energy surged from the soles of our shoes to the tips of our spines, yanking us upward. Not physically, not quite. More like being threaded through the eye of a cosmic needle.
The Underworld didn't so much vanish as unravel—melting into colorless streaks and ghostly echoes. Walls distorted, shadows elongated into tendrils of neon static. It was like being flushed through a storm drain made of raw space and memory.
Time lost meaning. Thought blurred.
Then—
Snap.
Breath rushed into my lungs.
Light hit my eyes.
No more sulfur or soul-choked air. No more dead things. Just wind, city noise, and the steady pulse of life.
I blinked, squinting against the brightness. The Manhattan skyline sprawled in front of us—jagged, beautiful, alive.
"Huh," I said, straightening up and brushing dust off my jacket. "Worked better than I thought."
"This isn't Olympus?" Percy muttered, squinting at the skyline like he expected to see marble columns and floating islands hanging above Manhattan.
I gave him a flat look. "We're back in New York, dumbass. Heart of the West—ring any bells?"
Realization dawned, followed by a sheepish rub at the back of his neck. "Right… yeah. Got caught up in the whole dramatic exit."
Annabeth was already moving, "C'mon. Olympus isn't going to wait around for us. We gotta go up."
I scanned the area and recognized the layout instantly—the Empire State Building, all glass and steel, looming overhead. Looked like we'd landed a few floors below the observation deck. Not bad. Would've been awkward if we'd materialized midair or inside a janitor's closet.
Nope. Not thinking about that.
We bolted toward the nearest elevator. Though before we could even press the call button, the doors slid open on their own.
Grover and Sally Jackson were standing inside, looking a little winded but otherwise intact.
I exhaled. Relief hit me like a sucker punch. Huh. The spell actually worked. So I didn't toss them into the ocean or some cursed cornfield in Kansas. Good to know.
"That was the worst," Grover groaned, stepping out. He looked like he'd just done three rounds in a wind tunnel. But his face lit up the second he saw us. "Hey—we made it."
Sally beamed, brushing some hair out of Percy's face in that soft, mom way like she still couldn't believe he was standing there. He didn't say anything—just hugged her tight. For once, he didn't try to hide the way his shoulders trembled a little.
I gave them the moment. They'd earned it.
Then Grover clapped his hands, snapping the energy back into focus.
"Okay. Touching family reunion aside—elevator. Olympus. Let's move before Zeus turns someone into a lightning rod."
No arguments. We all piled in, and with a low hum, the elevator began to rise.
I expected silence, but Sally turned to me like she knew exactly what I was about to ask.
"You're probably wondering how I knew where to go," she said, a soft glint in her eyes.
"Yeah, actually," I admitted. "Most mortals don't exactly have a map of the Empire State Building's divine-access-only routes memorized."
She chuckled. "Poseidon used to sneak me up here sometimes. Late nights, starlight, talking about the sea... the city. The gods. We'd watch from the clouds."
I blinked.
"Wait—your dad used to take your mom on Olympus dates?" I turned to Percy, incredulous. "That's... that's a top-tier flex."
Grover gave a low whistle. "Man, forget candlelit dinners. He took her to Mount Olympus."
Percy groaned like he was in pain. "Can we not talk about my parents' love life while we're literally on our way to meet the Olympians?"
Before anyone could reply—
BOOM.
The elevator jolted as the building shuddered with a thunderous impact. Lights flickered. The air pressure changed.
Annabeth grabbed the railing. "What the—?"
Another explosion, this time outside. A gust of wind and debris blasted past the windows.
Then a figure crashed into view—moving fast, too fast, trailing golden smoke and winged sandals that flared with celestial energy.
Luke Castellan.
Hovering midair just outside the building, a twisted smile on his face and a celestial bronze blade in hand, his presence reeked of betrayal and bitter fire. The wind around him swirled like the sky itself was holding its breath.
"Well, well," he called out through the cracked glass, voice clear and cruel. "Just in time for the grand finale."
Percy's jaw clenched. "Luke."
I tightened my grip on my staff.
Here we go.
The air practically rattled from the shock of Luke's entrance, glass cracking in a spiderweb pattern from the pressure of his hover just outside the building.
Annabeth stumbled back, frozen, "Luke?" Her voice was barely a whisper. Like she'd just seen a ghost.
Luke gave her a smirk—too sharp, too cold to be anything but wrong. "Hey, Wise Girl." Then his eyes slid over to me and Percy. "We need to talk."
I stepped out without missing a beat. "Yeah? Seems like you already made your grand entrance. Or were you waiting to monologue first?"
He laughed, the sound low and bitter. "Still got jokes. Cute." His gaze sharpened. "I'm disappointed, though."
Annabeth flinched. "You... you've been lying this whole time?"
Luke ignored her. "I gave you what you needed, didn't I? Just enough to get close. The bolt, Jackson. Hand it over."
Percy stepped forward, fists clenched. "You're insane."
Luke scoffed. "Insane? Or the only one finally thinking clearly?" His eyes locked on me now. "And you. I trusted you'd figure it out. That's why I gave you that staff."
I gave a sharp breath through my nose, turning the broken pieces of what he'd said over in my mind.
"The shield. My staff. The map to Persephone's pearls," I murmured. "Of course. You weren't helping—you were guiding us like chess pieces. Getting us to do the dirty work." I tilted my head. "You really had this all planned out, huh?"
Luke's grin grew cruel. "Not well enough, clearly. I didn't account for Hades being ahead of me."
I leveled the staff between us. "Then here's your last mistake—thinking I'd still hesitate to put you down."
"Try me."
A pulse of heat crackled as my runes flared to life, the arcane sigils crawling up the shaft of the staff, glowing an electric blue.
Luke drew his celestial bronze blade with a hiss of metal against leather, fire licking up the edge.
Then chaos.
He swung. I countered. Sparks flew as fire and runelight clashed midair, shockwaves rattling the elevator cables. Luke was fast—faster than I expected. His strikes were pure aggression, but controlled, like a hurricane inside a glass box.
"Percy!" I heard Grover shout behind me. "The panel's not opening!"
"I'm working on it!" Percy turned to his mom, "Mom, try the lower corner! Annabeth—help her!"
Annabeth shook herself back to the present and ran to Sally's side. "Here—push and twist. There's a latch inside!"
Grover scrambled, looking around for anything usable. "Where's a freaking crowbar when you need one?!"
Luke lunged again, our weapons clashing in a bright arc of light and flame. But this time, I wasn't fast enough.
CRACK.
His blade slammed down, slicing clean through the haft of my staff. It snapped in two, the top half flying across the elevator and slamming into the wall. Worse—my orb shattered, shards of glowing crystal scattering across the floor like dying embers.
Time slowed.
I staggered back, breath caught in my throat. The connection to the runes—gone. Just like that. I could feel it—like a limb torn from my soul.
Luke stood over me, breathing hard, blade still flaming in his hand.
"Nice trick. Shame it broke so easily."
My knuckles tightened around what was left of the staff. The magic inside me was still there, but raw now. Unfocused. I grit my teeth and met his eyes.
"Your mistake," I growled, "was thinking I needed the staff to beat you."
And then I threw what was left of it—runes still glowing faintly—right at his face.
Luke fought both of us at once—fluid, relentless, like a storm in motion.
His sword cut arcs through the air, forcing Percy to block with Riptide while I danced around the edges, firing quick bursts of frost and kinetic blasts whenever I found an opening. Percy ducked under a slash, twisted, and countered with a wide sweep that Luke barely avoided. Fire and steel clashed with the shriek of metal, a clash of heat and pressure that vibrated in the bones.
Slashes. Punches. Ice blasts. And smoke. The entire floor felt too small to contain us.
And through all of it, I was watching.
Not Luke—Percy.
He was… holding his own. Not flawless, not perfect, but better. Sharper. The way he moved now, the way he trusted his instincts instead of second-guessing—he'd grown. The kid who once stumbled through the Minotaur fight back at camp was now trading blows with a traitor wielding a god-tier blade. Sure, Luke was still faster, and definitely meaner, though Percy wasn't backing down.
He was standing his ground.
That said, I wasn't exactly at full power either. The fight with Hades had left me scorched inside. Every blast I cast now came with a price. My breath caught just a little quicker. My vision blurred at the edges.
Still—just because I was a mage didn't mean I'd be sitting in the back throwing sparkles.
I dropped a rune-trap beneath Luke's feet, more reflex than thought. When he sidestepped, I redirected the blast up into his torso. It staggered him long enough for Percy to go for a shoulder cut, but Luke twisted, catching Percy's wrist mid-strike and shoving him hard into the wall.
"C'mon," Luke sneered, eyes wild, sweat running down his temple. "This is the best you've got? After all that talk—this is what I'm up against?"
I stood straighter, exhaling slowly. "You're unhinged, man."
He turned to me, blade low. "No," he said, "I'm awake."
And then—he snapped.
His aura flared like a sun going nova. Wind exploded out in all directions, knocking Percy off his feet. I slid back a few paces, shielding my face as sparks tore up the floor tiles.
Luke moved faster than I could see, almost teleporting—first in front of Percy, then behind me, then above us. His blade carved fire through the air, and every time it landed, the force shook the floor.
"You think you're heroes?" he roared. "You're just pawns. You're still playing their game! The gods don't care about mortals—never have, never will! You think Olympus deserves to be saved? You're no better than the titans who came before!"
"Then why are you trying to become them?" I shouted back, deflecting a slash beside me.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he roared and launched himself at me again. Percy lunged to intercept, and for a second it was three bodies in constant motion—two trying to hold ground, one trying to shatter it.
The fight took us all the way up.
Steel and magic clashed under a night sky scattered with stars, the Manhattan skyline stretching out below. Luke was relentless now—faster, sharper, more aggressive. It was like he'd flipped a switch and left the hesitation behind.
He wasn't just trying to win anymore.
He was trying to end it.
"Give me the bolt!" he roared, driving Percy back with a flurry of strikes. "This doesn't have to be harder than it needs to be!"
"Then stop swinging that thing like you're trying to kill us!" Percy snapped, blocking another blow with his shield—barely.
Luke shoved him back. "Why did you even steal it, huh?" Percy shouted over the wind, panting. "What's the real reason? 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't just to make a statement."
Luke's eyes burned with something dark. He stopped moving for just a breath. "To start a war," he said, low and furious. "A three-way war—Zeus, Poseidon, Hades. That was the plan. Until Hades decided to play his cards early. The bastard was twelve steps ahead."
I spat blood onto the roof tiles, dragging myself upright. "Only fools want war, Luke."
His gaze flicked to me. "No. Only fools think peace under tyrants is worth keeping."
He lunged again.
I parried with what was left of my shattered staff, barely redirecting the edge of his sword. Percy came in from the side, but Luke moved too quick, spun low, and crack—Percy's shield shattered like glass. Something flew out from the wreckage and clattered across the rooftop.
The bolt.
Zeus's lightning bolt.
It skidded once, twice—then hovered in the air, pulsing, as if unsure who to obey.
I raised a shaky hand, summoning what little magic I had left. "Accerso fulmen!"
The bolt trembled—buzzed—and inched toward me. Luke gritted his teeth and extended his own hand, resisting the pull. The weapon crackled in mid-air between us, caught in a battle of sheer will.
And I was losing.
Mana drained from my veins like sand through a sieve. My fingers sparked, then fizzled out entirely. Luke seized the moment. He grabbed hold—and with a shout, redirected the bolt.
Straight at me.
There was a flash. A sound like the sky splitting open.
The blast threw me across the rooftop. I slammed into a concrete vent with a sickening crunch and didn't get back up. Everything went numb.
"Thad!" Percy called, starting toward me.
Luke moved faster.
A brutal kick caught Percy in the ribs, knocking him back down. Groaning, he pushed up on one arm.
"Why?" Percy coughed. "Why go this far? Why start a war at all?"
Luke towered over him, hair wild, lightning reflecting in his eyes.
"Control," he said coldly. "Because the gods have ruled for too long. They lie, they cheat, they punish mortals for fun—and we're supposed to worship that? They took Olympus from the Titans. Why shouldn't we take it from them?"
"Because you'll tear it all down," I rasped, trying to sit up. "There won't be a pantheon left when you're done. You'll destroy everything—leave nothing but ash for the next generation."
Luke didn't even glance my way.
"Exactly," he muttered.
"You're not a hero," Percy said quietly.
Luke's eyes narrowed. "And neither are you."
Percy glanced at me, still slumped, unmoving.
Luke raised the bolt, now glowing with a furious, divine blue, and leveled it straight at Percy's face.
"You would've liked meeting him, you know," Luke said, his voice suddenly calm. "Your grandfather."
Percy froze.
Luke's smirk curled like smoke.
Then the sky split again—only this time, it wasn't from the bolt.
I reappeared behind Luke.
I didn't know how—it was just like when I fought Hades. That same instinct. That same tug through space. Only this time, it felt lighter. Like adrenaline had taken the wheel instead of sheer will. My boot connected square with Luke's back, sending him stumbling forward. He lost grip of his sword, metal scraping across the rooftop, but still clutched the bolt in his hand.
He snarled, turned, and launched a few bolts of energy in my direction. I deflected them with carefully woven runes, my magic sparking in controlled bursts. I didn't have enough left in the tank, so I had to be smart—precise.
Luke's lip curled. "You're a persistent bastard."
I grinned, blood staining my teeth. "And you're just mad your little coup got outplayed, you prissy mythological knockoff."
He lunged again, but I didn't meet him head-on.
Instead—I blinked.
In a flicker, I was behind him again. Milliseconds. No time to think. Just movement.
I spun a sphere of energy in my palm—white-hot, humming so fast it almost didn't make sound. I didn't even know what I was doing, just pouring everything into it. Mana, will, frustration, all of it. The orb pulsed, growing unstable.
Then I shoved it into his back.
There was a blast of light and force—boom—and Luke went flying off the rooftop, crashing into the darkness beyond with the bolt slipping from his hand.
I caught it mid-air.
Percy rushed to me as I collapsed to one knee, panting hard. "You good?"
"Define good," I wheezed. He wrapped one arm around me, hoisting me up as we limped back toward the others.
"Still," he said, wide-eyed. "That was a dirty move. Real sneaky."
"Please," I muttered. "You've gotten a lot better since we arrived at camp a few weeks back. Felt like I could actually rely on you in a fight this time."
He blinked at me, caught off guard by the compliment. Then grinned.
We made it down just as the others managed to open a panel—no, not a panel. A door. Hidden in the back wall of the elevator, golden edges glowing faintly now that it had been activated.
Only it didn't go down.
It went up.
Way, way up.
Sally rushed forward the moment she saw Percy, cupping his face and checking him over like she expected him to be missing limbs. Annabeth looked torn between hugging him and scolding him. She settled for grabbing his arm and squeezing it—hard.
Grover came up beside me, offering a shoulder.
"Been carrying you a lot lately," he muttered with a tired smile.
"Yeah," I said quietly, leaning into him. "Sorry about that."
"Nah. Kinda used to it by now."
The golden elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding.
Olympus waited.
As soon as we got inside, Mrs. Jackson beelined for the control panel—an absurdly shiny array of gold buttons, polished to a divine gleam. Real subtle, guys. Definitely not up to code, but who needs OSHA when you've got celestial aesthetics?
Annabeth was already in motion. Her eyes swept across the panel like she was decoding, fingers hovering just above the surface. "It's alphabetized in Ancient Greek," she muttered, scanning. Then she spotted it—an unusually shaped symbol near the top. Without missing a beat, she pressed it.
A soft pulse of light rippled through the walls, like the elevator had just taken a deep breath. The interior shimmered—suddenly way bigger than it looked from the outside.
The elevator launched.
It was more like the universe itself pressed fast-forward on us. The walls blurred into streaks of gold and deep blue, energy coiling and whipping around like we'd stepped into a cosmic storm.
"Okay, nope," I muttered, gripping the nearest railing. "This isn't an elevator. This is Zeus after a double espresso and a grudge."
Percy laughed nervously. "Yeah, no way this thing passed any safety inspection."
The world outside the glass twisted and melted into endless skies, bleeding into constellations that danced and rearranged themselves like a living myth. It was beautiful. Terrifying. Beautifully terrifying.
Annabeth's hands gripped the edge of the panel. "This is incredible," she said under her breath. "They didn't just build Olympus—they merged it. Folded it right into the Heart of the West."
Percy blinked at her. "You're not even a little freaked out?"
She gave him the kind of look that suggested he'd just asked if books were real. "I've studied this since I was seven. Experiencing it? It's history come alive."
Grover, meanwhile, had gone pale—greener than usual. "History is overrated," he croaked. "And spinning."
The speed kept building. Everything shimmered, vibrated, warped—
Then ding.
Stillness.
For a second, no one breathed.
The doors slid open, golden light pouring in like the sun itself had been waiting behind them.
We'd arrived.
We booked it.
No time to admire the gilded gates or the marble streets polished to a blinding sheen. The only thing hotter on our heels than our own panic? The sky—boiling with thunder, each crack sharper and closer, like Zeus was tapping his foot, annoyed, ready to turn someone into a cautionary tale just for existing. Chill? Not even close.
And then we saw it.
The real Olympus.
Look, I've seen postcards of the Parthenon. Those tourist trap ruins people get all misty-eyed over? Cute. Adorable. Like baby's first LEGO set next to this place.
This wasn't a temple. It was a declaration. A divine power move.
Marble towers jutted into the sky like Olympus was trying to uppercut the moon. Gold veins pulsed through the stone like the whole mountain had a heartbeat, and it was angry. Colossal columns loomed—each one carved with mythological battles so detailed, they looked ready to break loose and finish the fight. Even the stairs had attitude, floating and shifting beneath us like they were rating our worthiness with every step.
Overkill? Definitely. Impressive? Yeah, okay, also yes.
"Leg it, people!" I yelled, half-running, half-limping, my legs screaming with every stride. I didn't have time to feel pain. We had to move.
Up ahead, doors rose into the clouds—ridiculously massive, like they expected to host kaiju guests or something. I had questions. Later.
Then, before we could reach them—someone cut us off.
Chiron.
Full centaur mode, standing tall like a walking legend—hooves firm, hair windswept, eyes blazing with the kind of urgency that said we'd just pulled a level of chaos no training could've prepped him for.
"You're all alive!" he called out, galloping toward us, scanning us from head to toe.
"Barely," I muttered, flexing my fingers to make sure they still worked.
Chiron didn't miss a beat. "Come! Zeus has just lost his patience!"
That was enough. We bolted up the staircase—torchlight casting shadows that danced like specters around us, the air humming with raw, god-grade power. With every step, Olympus grew louder. Heavier. The kind of pressure that makes your soul feel like it's standing trial.
And then we were inside.
Chaos.
Not the poetic kind. The literal, war-on-the-horizon kind.
The gods weren't arguing—they were at war with words. Zeus and Poseidon were dead center, yelling over each other like two storms about to collide. Lightning flickered in Zeus' wake, crackling and restless. Waves sloshed at Poseidon's feet, the ground barely holding his anger.
Athena stood between them, trying her best to channel logic into a room that wanted none of it. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were sharp—dangerous. Like if reason failed, she'd pick up a spear and settle it herself.
The rest of the gods? Reactions varied.
Ares leaned forward, practically drooling at the tension, hands twitching for a weapon. Apollo looked amused. Hermes was checking his nails. Dionysus? Probably drunk. Aphrodite didn't seem bothered—just annoyed her divine manicure was being wasted on a thunder-fueled screaming match.
And us? We just walked into the middle of Olympus' worst family reunion.
"Let the war begi—" Zeus boomed, his voice cracking the very air like the heavens had just shattered.
But before he could finish?
I did the dumbest thing possible.
I screamed.
"Yo! Eyes down here!" I shouted, throwing up a lazy wave like this was just another Tuesday. My knees? About to fold. My voice? Cooler than Hades' front porch. "Got a little delivery for you, Sparkles."
Every god in the room turned.
Quick tip? One god staring at you? Awkward. Twelve? Imagine being an ant realizing the sunbeam is actually a magnifying glass, and someone's aiming.
Without missing a beat, Percy reached into his jacket and pulled out the lightning bolt.
The room shifted.
The second it left his hand, the air buzzed like the atmosphere had been holding its breath and finally remembered how to exhale.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the air.
Time slowed.
The bolt spun as it rose, stretching, crackling—transforming from a god-killer-sized problem into a living weapon, forged from pure storm and divine fury.
Zeus lifted his hand.
The moment his fingers closed around the shaft of the bolt, it responded—resized to fit his grip, glowing hotter than the sun, like it belonged there.
Thick, weighted, holy silence.
And then?
Pandemonium.
A thunderclap boomed so loud the ground quaked. Bolts of lightning streaked across the ceiling in wild, furious arcs. For a terrifying second, it felt like Olympus itself might break apart from the surge.
Then—poof.
It stopped.
The skies outside calmed. The air went from knife-on-skin to a soft, summer breeze. Peace returned like someone had flipped the god-switch from "War" to "Cool It."
Across the room, the gods slowly relaxed—shoulders unclenching, weapons vanishing, divine auras dimming away.
Somewhere, probably, a silent godly high-five happened.
And then Athena spoke.
"Annabeth?"
Her voice was uncertain. Like she wasn't sure she was allowed to say her name.
Annabeth blinked. Stiffened like a kid caught sneaking in after curfew.
"Hey… Mom."
Not exactly a Hallmark reunion, but it worked.
Percy took a step forward, "Hi. I'm Percy Jackson. And, uh… I think you guys were looking for this."
He nodded at Zeus, who still held the bolt like it had never left.
The King of the Gods didn't respond right away. Instead, he locked eyes with Poseidon.
Something ancient passed between them—silent, weighty. A conversation older than mortals, too deep for words.
Poseidon's smirk? Subtle. Almost proud.
Like he'd always known the bolt would come back… but also knew his kid would be the one to do it.
My cue.
I stepped forward, every divine eye tracking me like I'd just stepped onto a minefield with jazz hands.
"Name's Thaddeus Bartholomew," I said, hands in my pockets but spine straightening just a bit. "I understand I'm the, uh... unfamiliar face in the room. Thank you for not smiting me immediately. The pleasure's mine."
Respectful enough. Still me.
The response? Mixed bag. Some gods raised brows. Others just stared, blank as marble. Athena's gaze cut through me like she was trying to solve my entire existence in five seconds or less. Apollo looked mildly amused. Dionysus yawned.
I was absolutely not their favorite guest.
Then Zeus turned his glare back on Percy,
"The Lightning Thief," he announced, voice echoing across the hall like a hammer hitting stone. "I knew it."
A ripple of murmurs sparked among the gods.
"He brought an outsider here?" Hera asked sharply, voice lined with disbelief. "Olympus is not open for mortal tourism."
"Nor mortal interference," Athena added, eyes still on me. "Who trained him?"
"More importantly," Artemis said, arms crossed, "what is he?"
The question hung in the air, loud and pointed.
Apollo tilted his head at me like I was a new riddle. "He's not mortal," he said, eyes narrowing slightly. "At least… not entirely."
Before it could spiral further, Zeus raised his hand—lightning crackling at his fingertips, hot and wild like a temper barely held back.
I braced. Just a little.
But then he exhaled through his nose.
"Congratulations," Zeus muttered, the word sounding more like a sentence. "You've managed to salvage what's left of your father's reputation."
"I didn't steal the lightning bolt," Percy said, voice flat. "And if my father had asked me to do it for him?"
A pause.
"I would've said no."
He didn't shout. Didn't flinch. He just... turned his back to Zeus. Fully. Deliberately.
"I have no loyalty to him," Percy continued, eyes forward. "I owe him nothing."
Silence. Heavy. Dense. Like the oxygen itself didn't want to breathe wrong.
Poseidon didn't speak. Didn't rage. Just lowered his head a little, watching Percy with a kind of quiet that didn't feel like shame—or pride.
Just… distance.
I studied him more closely now.
Not what I expected at all. No royal parade. No thunderous entrance. No shining sea-crown or glowing conch horn.
Poseidon looked like he came straight off a boat with blood under his nails and salt still drying in his hair. His tunic clung like it had seen one too many storms. His forearm was wrapped in muscle and time, a faded trident tattoo inked deep into his skin, edges blurred by age and battles. His eyes—Percy's eyes—burned ocean-deep, but his face was carved in weariness.
Not a god. A survivor.
And honestly? That kind of power? Way more intimidating than Zeus' pressed suit and thunder god cosplay.
Zeus looked like he ran a hedge fund.
Tailored black suit. Storm-cloud hair that screamed ego. Golden cufflinks shaped like lightning bolts. Probably filed a divine trademark for them, too.
He smirked—slow, smug, the kind of smirk that makes you want to punch your own reflection just for sharing a species.
"Seems you've inherited his charm," Zeus said, not even hiding the venom as he glanced between Percy and Poseidon.
Percy didn't answer. He didn't need to.
He'd already said everything that mattered.
And the gods?
They were finally listening.
Zeus then asked, "Though, if what you say about the bolt is true… why did you have it?"
I sighed, dragging a hand over the back of my neck. "Luke took it. Son of… uh, Hermes."
The room froze.
Every divine head turned in eerie unison toward one throne.
Hermes.
Right now? He looked hollow. Like someone had hit mute on his soul. Just… still.
Zeus' gaze slid back to me, sharp and cold, and for a second, I swore the floor dropped a few degrees.
"And why," he asked, voice like a storm tightening its grip, "should I believe you? An outsider. A stranger to our realm. You walk into Olympus uninvited, toss accusations, and expect trust?"
I didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
"Conviction or doubt—neither alters reality," I said, steady. "The truth doesn't bend to opinion. But what does matter—" I nodded toward the bolt in his hand, still sizzling with faint sparks, "—is your word. We brought it back. Before the solstice. Just like you wanted. So now... hold up your end of the deal."
A beat. Zeus didn't move. Then his gaze flicked to Poseidon, shifting to Percy, and finally to the rest of the room.
And that's when I stepped forward.
"I didn't come here to challenge your order or spark chaos in your domain," I said, voice clear and unapologetic. "I didn't even want to be part of this. I got pulled in because someone close to me got dragged into your games. Percy's my friend. That's the only reason I got involved. And now… I'm in deep. Too deep to walk away like it never happened."
The gods watched, silent.
I shrugged. "So go ahead. Be suspicious. Threaten me if it makes you feel safer. But I didn't lie. I didn't steal. I didn't stab any of you in the back. And whatever I am, I stood up when it counted. That should say something."
Athena's eyes narrowed, studying me like I was a chessboard with too many missing pieces.
Artemis spoke next. Her voice was cool, calm, but firm. "You risked yourself for the sake of someone else's quest. That is rare—even among our own."
"And dangerous," Ares grunted. "He's unpredictable."
"Yet honest," Hestia added gently, the only one whose warmth didn't feel like it came with barbs.
Hermes hadn't spoken. Still hadn't. He looked like someone had lit a fire under his skin and he was trying to stay still long enough not to combust.
Then, finally, Zeus stood tall, the bolt crackling in his grip like it knew it was home again.
"For the sake of peace within our family," he declared, voice echoing through the marble like divine judgment, "there will be no war."
And just like that, the air shifted. The weight on our shoulders lifted like a storm drifting beyond the horizon.
For the first time in a long time, Olympus exhaled.
Zeus then turned his full attention to our group, regarding us with something that almost resembled approval.
"You have done me a great service," he said, voice resonant. "If there is anything you wish to ask of me—anything within my power to grant—speak it now."
Percy didn't hesitate. His voice came out steady, sure.
"I want a promise," he said. "No harm will come to my best friend, Thad. No punishment. No ill intent. No schemes."
He paused, then added with a lopsided shrug, "Also, could you, like, clear up the whole 'wanted criminal' situation we currently have? I don't think Thad's too keen on having a kidnapping record stuck to his name."
Zeus' expression shifted—barely, though enough. Like Percy had just asked him to rewrite the laws of gravity. He didn't seem to strike me as the type to like demands. Especially not from a kid.
Me? I stood there, a little stunned.
Did he really just—?
Damn. Percy went all-in for me. Risked talking back to Zeus just to clear my name. This was loyalty on a mythic scale.
Before Zeus could open his mouth, Poseidon stepped forward, "That is a fair request, brother," he said. "And besides, now that we're aware of Young Thaddeus… we can watch him properly."
Then he looked at me directly—ocean-blue gaze equal parts casual and calculating. "No funny business. Understood?"
I gave him the flattest nod I could muster. "Sure. Whatever you say."
Zeus exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed with the whole interaction.
"Fine," he said, clipped and reluctant. Still a win.
"However," he continued, straightening with the weight of divine authority, "I will assign a god to monitor him. Who that will be shall be decided in due time. We shall deliberate on the outsider's place within Olympus—and he will be present when we do."
Then his eyes locked on mine, sharp as lightning about to strike.
"If you are called to Olympus," he said slowly, "you are to come. Immediately. No excuses."
Great. Divine babysitter. Mandatory roll call. Love that for me.
"Understood, Lord Zeus." I nodded.
He gave a slight tilt of his head, unimpressed but acknowledging.
"At the very least, you have some form of manners—despite that attitude," he said dryly. "I'll pretend I didn't hear you call me Sparkles earlier."
I bit back a grin. Fair enough.
That was when Annabeth suddenly stepped forward, her usual confidence faltering just a touch. "I have an announcement—"
I cut in without thinking. "If this is about you and Percy finally making it official, wow. Took your sweet time. You two are the most textbook enemies-to-lovers arc I've ever seen, just the most predictable quick-burn I've witnessed since watching a rom-coms."
Silence.
Every god in the room turned to her. Like, full head swivel. Even Apollo stopped mid-lute-pluck.
Annabeth, still holding Percy's hand like it was a battle standard, lifted her chin. With the same strategic conviction she'd use to lead troops into war, she said:
"The son of Poseidon and the daughter of Athena are officially… in love."
And then—because I'm me—I added, "Also, they totally slept together."
The air left the room.
Percy made a sound somewhere between a cough and a dying seagull. Annabeth's face went redder than a tomato in a sauna. Poseidon blinked, slow, like his divine processor needed a reboot. Athena? She didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe. She went full marble—expression unreadable, body motionless, like the world had gone into buffering mode.
I glanced around, finger wagging slowly between Percy and Annabeth like I was delivering a lecture. "Swear on whatever divine nonsense happens next—y'all pulled something shady back at that casino. Don't even try to lie. I've seen less obvious poker faces on toddlers."
Percy looked like he wanted to be swallowed whole by the nearest ornamental column.
Annabeth's grip on his hand tightened, jaw clenched like she was debating whether to defend herself or throttle me.
Then, in the middle of it all—just to confirm everything and send Olympus into a deeper existential crisis—they kissed.
No sweeping romantic music. No slow-mo or glitter explosions. Just a short, firm 'we're a thing' kind of kiss. Unapologetic. Final.
Poseidon and Athena looked like someone had just unplugged the laws of reality.
Annabeth turned to them, "I think it's about time you two stopped hating each other."
I let out a breath, glancing over at Grover. "Man, that's gonna take some getting used to… right, G?"
Grover—bless him—looked just as shell-shocked as I felt. "Dude, you have no idea," he said, then cracked a grin. "Still… kinda proud this hot mess of a squad actually pulled it off."
Across the hall, Poseidon and Athena let out a synchronized sigh—reluctant, tight-lipped, and clearly hating every second of what had just unfolded. Although they didn't argue.
They hated it. Absolutely.
And Zeus?
Zeus was thriving.
His laughter exploded across the throne room like thunder crashing against marble. Loud. Obnoxious.
"Ah, young love!" he declared, shaking his head with mock fondness. "So fragile. So fleeting. So terribly, terribly foolish." A sharp smirk curled at his mouth. "But entertaining, nonetheless."
The amusement, however, didn't last. His gaze cut sharply to Poseidon. His storm-gray eyes narrowed.
"Our meeting is adjourned," Zeus said. He quickly gazed back to Poseidon, "But know this, brother… I still don't trust you."
Zeus disappeared in a violent flash of lightning, leaving behind only scorched air and the sharp sting of ozone.
Athena turned to Annabeth. Her expression didn't shift, yet something about the way her eyes narrowed made it feel like the temperature dropped ten degrees.
"We will discuss this later, young lady." Then, without another word, she vanished in a burst of gold.
One by one, the gods dipped out.
Hera floated out first, Demeter followed, muttering something about planting seasons and headaches. Hermes lingered longer than the rest, his face contorted with tension over the Luke's actions, he was gone seconds later.
Apollo and Artemis hung back a second.
As Artemis passed me, she paused. Just for a moment. Her silver eyes studied me—intensely. She didn't smile, but her words were quiet, pointed:
"You're not as reckless as you pretend to be."
Then she blinked out of existence like moonlight slipping behind a cloud.
Dionysus grumbled under his breath the whole time—something about "delinquents,"—before vanishing with a snap of his fingers and a loud pop.
And just like that…
Almost everyone was gone.
Ares stayed rooted where he was, arms crossed, that trademark smirk sharp enough to slice concrete.
"Not bad, runt," he said, voice dripping with smug sarcasm. "Didn't think you had the stones to square up with the King of the Underworld. Let's dance for real next time, yeah?"
Then—boom—he vanished in a flash of crimson flame, leaving behind a faint scorched mark on the marble.
The throne room felt… quieter now. Lighter. Like the divine pressure had finally lifted, and we could all breathe without our ribs creaking.
Poseidon was the last one standing.
He rose slowly from his throne. With each step down, his divine aura dimmed—like he was peeling it off layer by layer. The god shrank to mortal height, the radiance dimming until he looked almost human.
He walked over to Sally first.
And the way he looked at her—it wasn't how a god looks at a mortal. No condescension. No distance. It was something smaller. Something real.
"Good to see you, Sally," he said, voice that's just warm. "You look beautiful."
Sally gave him a small, knowing smile. "You too. Though I imagine that whole eternal youth thing helps."
They shared a quiet moment. Just two people with history standing still in it for a second.
Then finally—finally—Poseidon turned to Percy.
Father and son.
Face to face.
And for a moment, I didn't know if either of them would speak. Maybe they didn't know how. Maybe silence was safer.
Poseidon drew a breath, steady and deliberate.
"I can't thank you enough, Percy. Few heroes in our history could have accomplished what you did. I'm proud of you, son—"
But Percy cut in, voice low but unflinching.
He didn't yell. Didn't snap.
And then it all spilled out of him.
He told Poseidon everything. Every birthday missed. Every moment he watched his mom struggle while wondering if the ocean ever cared. The years of wondering why he wasn't worth a second thought. The hollowness of growing up without a father who was technically immortal, and still somehow absent.
And he didn't say it to get an apology.
He just needed it said.
Poseidon didn't interrupt. Didn't try to spin it. Didn't hide behind divine excuses.
He just stood there. And listened.
I exhaled, nudging Annabeth and Grover. "Come on," I murmured. "Let's give them a minute."
Chiron picked up on it without a word. The three of us followed him toward the grand exit, boots echoing faintly on marble.
Once outside, Chiron let out a sigh, his expression drawn. "You did well, Thaddeus. Better than most would have, in your position. Although…" He paused, gaze shifting somewhere distant. "The truth about Luke… it weighs on me. It's difficult to accept."
I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Good seeing you too, Chiron. Though, honestly? Starting to prefer the horse half. Wheelchair's kind of overrated."
He let out a soft chuckle, but the look in his eyes definitely said something else.
"Luke was…" Annabeth's voice faltered, layered with memories and conflict. "He wasn't always like this. He wanted to be a hero. He was a hero. Once."
Grover kicked at a loose pebble, ears drooping low. "I should've seen it coming. I felt something was off… but I didn't want to believe it."
Chiron gave a solemn nod. "Sometimes, the ones we trust the most… fall the farthest."
I crossed my arms, my tone flat. "Doubt that's the last we'll hear of him."
No one argued.
Then—like he was trying to flick the switch back on—Grover grinned. "Well… at least we survived."
"Barely," Annabeth muttered, arms still crossed tight across her chest.
"Still counts!" Grover shot back with a shrug.
Chiron actually smiled, the first real one since we stepped out. "You've all done remarkably well. You should be proud. Few demigods face the weight of Olympus and walk away." Then he turned to me, a curious glint in his eyes. "And Thaddeus… I must admit, I didn't expect you to leave such an impression. Your abilities, your resilience—it's almost as if you were meant for this world."
I let out a dry laugh, raking a hand through my hair. "Yeah, well—tell that to my legs, 'cause they're done."
And then it hit.
My knees folded like bad origami, strings cut mid-step. One moment I was upright—the next, the world spun sideways, edges blurring like a bad TV signal losing reception.
"Thad—?!" Grover's voice cracked, distant and panicked.
"M'just… gonna nap here…" I mumbled. Words felt thick. Heavy. Slurring like my brain was buffering. "See you… at camp…"
Then—nothing.