2,806I glanced between the two sides as the light flickered like an old nightlight, sending beams of light bouncing around the room.
How…interesting.
Interesting.
I felt like laughing, but all I could muster was a tired sigh.
Interesting used to mean something different just a few years ago. A squirrel attacked the insides of a Cheeto's bag in the middle of the street? Interesting. Hobos were doing a gladiator-style battle in the middle of the subway station over someone's lost wallet? Interesting.
The prettiest girl in school broke up with her boyfriend? Well, maybe that wasn't as interesting as it was exciting for my pre-pubescent brain, but I think you get my point.
Now, the entire world, all of reality, really, was frozen in a karmic decision that looked like it was yanked straight out of the original Infamous games, and all I could do was muster up a half-hearted comment.
I shook my head.
This felt like a mini-pivotal decision. As far as I could tell, though, whatever fallout that was going to come out of this decision was going to be limited to me, which was a welcome change from pivotal decisions, where I basically altered the course of the entire world's future based on what was, at best, flimsy information.
I guess that makes me like these a bit more. I also found myself liking the pretty colors, too, but they were a little less pretty when I considered the fact that one of them was likely evil.
Looks like I'll be branding myself as evil if I choose whatever option the Game has designated as such. Just another thing to consider, I guess—more weight on the scales. Even more to balance.
That's not even counting the existential dread that comes with making one of these calls. Well, it's not like I'm actually stressed out because [Gamer's Mind MK2] is still filtering all of my negative emotions out like a bouncer at a nightclub, but I'm still aware of what I'm doing. I'm still aware of the ramifications involved.
The last reality-breaking decision I made got all my friends killed. Well, at least, I think it did, but I'll have no way of knowing until the next one.
It's like betting on sports, but you can't see the players and you can't watch the game. All you can do is pick one, go all in, and hope for the best.
Or is it?
I rubbed my forehead and looked at the choices again. I'd have to weigh my options the way I always did—with a pros and cons list, a soda, and some candy.
My [Inventory] slammed open on the table beside me, a disc of crackling purple energy that whirred around the edges like a saw. I reached in and pulled out the essentials—a chilled can of root beer, some saltwater taffy, and a yellow legal pad and pen. I scribbled a horizontal line across the top and divided it in half.
Okay, let's look at the pros for [Hestia's Blade].
Well, for starters, a flat boost of five times to my HP sounds pretty sweet.
Far and away, it's one of my most neglected stats, right next to [LUK]. I'd just learned its importance from Heket, too, so to have a bonus like that dangling in front of my face now was almost too good to pass up.
Not only was it good by itself and on its own merit, but becoming Hestia's blade basically gift-wrapped it in solid-gold wrapping and topped it off with a bow made of rubies.
Healing for a quarter of all the damage I dealt was insane. This option gave me an incredible boost to my health and gave me the sustainability to keep that pool constantly refilled.
I could forego some focus on that aspect. Honestly, it was like I was becoming incentivized to focus even more on offense now if you think about it. Instead of directly bolstering any of my defensive stats, I can give all my attention to offense, knowing that the more pure damage I can deal, the more I can heal.
And it rhymes! Not that has anything to do with it. Just an observation.
It's not all sunshine and daisies, though. Let's take a peek at the cons.
For starters, leaving camp right after this conversation meant I'd miss out on campfire night—campfire night—the one thing I'd been looking forward to ever since I got back.
I had yet to actually get to sit down at the campfire and just relax with everyone. Ever since I got to camp all those years ago!
I somehow always managed to leave camp before it was time for a big one with everyone there. And everyone actually agreed! The fact that I was going to try to make it to one was a big deal.
I'd promised, like, a trillion different things to everyone. I was basically the guest of honor, no joke.
I mean, I was supposed to tell Malcolm the scariest story I could think of, teach Piper how to make a signature "Jackson s'more" (which, for the record, uses three marshmallows, not one—you let the middle stay gooey), and I'd even planned to share a blanket with Thalia, though she'd probably roll her eyes and punch me halfway through.
Then I'd go, tail between my legs, to the Aphrodite side of the fire, and Drew Tanaka would take one look at my puppy dog eyes and let me share her blanket. Which would only make Thalia madder, but that was half the point.
And that doesn't even cover the barrage of random questions I knew I'd get from the other campers about what I'd been up to the last few months. Like, okay, I get it, guys—I save the world a few times and suddenly I'm the go-to guy for adventure tips.
But yeah. Now I'm basically going to look like a total flake. Again. Nothing new there.
Leaving early would also wreck any hope of preparing. Training for a week? Gone. My plan to be ready for the General? Dead on arrival. And let's be real, if I'm on the road hunting down the Ophiotaurus, I'm not exactly going to have time to chill and figure out how to keep my head from getting lopped off.
Plus, there was the whole mystery surrounding my aunt's weird request. What was her game? Why now? None of it made sense. But, of course, that's my life—full of cryptic, vague instructions that usually involve monsters or gods trying to kill me.
I turned to the other option. I wish there was more of a gray area, but at face value, the karmic decision seemed binding in the sense that going one route would lock out the other.
Otherwise, I'd just take this option and try to convince my aunt to give me all that sweet power later down the line.
Oh well.
I figured since I argued for the first option, I'd create someone else to argue the second one.
"Slow down, Percy. Be smart, train, and grow," It kind of sounded like that Roman Percy I'd met. I could see his swirling red eye in my mind's eye and feel the emanating coldness floating in front of me like I was standing in front of the freezer with the door wide open. His purple cloak twisted around his neck like a scarf, "The Game is broken, man! Just sit with it and you'll be better than okay. That's what I did, and look at me!"
I hear you, other me, I do.
But here's the thing—declining her offer to do this on my own means I'm putting all my chips on a long-game strategy. Like, I'm playing chess while everyone else is sprinting through checkers. Does the right move even matter if you make it too late to help anyone?
[Prestigious Hero] sounds pretty sweet, I won't lie. Five times more [EXP] on any of my perks? For two whole weeks? It's like someone just handed me a fast pass to Hero Disneyland.
Think about all the perks I could prestige and train back to their current states. I could completely reconstruct my fighting style and combination attacks. I'd probably flow better, fight more generally, and even have more tricks up my sleeve. I'd be a brand new hero, a different kind of fighter—it would be the 60 Minute Makeover of Greek demigods.
But only for a little while. Two weeks may sound like a long time, but when you're being hounded by gods, monsters, and questionable relatives altogether? Not as much wiggle room as you'd think. Would those two weeks even matter in the long run? I could stand to lose just as much as I could gain.
Plus, if I'm going to die soon, time is a precious commodity. Can I justify spending it like this, especially knowing that my friends are going to be out on a quest right now anyway?
That's without even considering the [Slow and Steady] perk. A five times speed boost. That's great, right? It certainly sounds great on paper. The only caveat is, well, I don't know if that's just physical speed or like, decision-making speed, reflexes, etc.
I could always stand to get smarter. But in terms of physical speed, I basically had a teleportation ability anyway. Three, technically. And let's be honest, I've never been good at slow or steady. I'm more of a 'plunge headfirst into danger and hope for the best' kind of guy.
I looked at Roman Percy, "I mean, you get that, right? You're me, after all."
Roman Percy vanished with a casual shrug, leaving me staring at my warped reflection in the window. The night outside blanketed everything in darkness, reducing the world to smudges of shadow. Faint light from a campfire flickered off in the distance.
The muted glow from the decision screen in front of me cast an eerie light on my fragmented reflection, raindrops sliding down the glass like silent tears, tracing cold paths into the window.
Then, something shifted. A flicker of light caught my attention—coming from me. My eyes, to be exact. At first, it was just a faint glow, but it quickly grew, like embers catching flame. Twin beacons of light, one a pulsing green fire from Medusa's eye, the other an iridescent red from Horus' Eye, cut through the darkness and strobed the world outside, like spotlights searching for someone on stage.
I couldn't look away. The light reflected in every droplet, turning the rain into rivers of molten light. Then, just as quickly, both beams shifted to an icy pale blue, and the window crackled, frost creeping along the glass in spiderweb cracks, sizzling and hissing like a basket of snakes. It quickly spread and covered the entire window in a thin layer of murky permafrost.
Oceanus whispered in my ear, his voice as soft and persistent as the rain tapping against the windowsill. I could feel his cold fingers on my shoulder. "Don't forget, ancestor, my power is already yours."
An idea sparked.
What if I could do both?
I could take Hestia's offer. Simple. Immediate power—no grind, no hassle. It would be applied before I even stepped out of the Big House, giving me a solid boost right off the bat. Mixed with my False Titan form, I'd have enough firepower to flatten a small army.
I'd almost already done that. Iapetus, Thea, and an immortal Luke—how easy would that fight be now?
But that wasn't just it either...what if I trained too? On the way there?
Sure, it wouldn't be the clean, Yoda-esque training I was planning. It'd be messier. On-the-fly. Cruder. Random.
The path to the Ophiotaurus wasn't exactly going to be a walk in the park. It'd be filled with obstacles—Coven of Shadows, rogue titans, monsters straight out of Greek nightmares—and those were just the ones I knew about already. The General would be throwing everything he had at my feet like legos, just waiting for me to step on them and curse my luck.
I wouldn't be able to sit and weigh my options for too long, either. I'd been on the road long enough to know that I'd always be moving, always searching for the next threat. Barelling toward a goalpost that seemed to get farther away.
That kind of life wasn't compatible with in-depth, scientific analysis. It wouldn't give me the peace I needed to map out a build for myself and grab perks like pieces of candy on Halloween night.
But refining the basics? That was something I could handle. I'd become a kaleidoscope fighter for a reason—the beauty of it was that I could afford to sacrifice one of my mastered sword forms, prestige it, and grind it back up along the way. Or focus on a few key passive skills, like [The Reaper].
The heavy hitters would stay the same. They'd be my fallback, my go-to. No. Wait. They'd get better, with the boosts from Hestia's gift, since now, I could afford to be riskier, knowing that all I had to do was hit the other person hard enough.
It could work. I could do both. I would do both.
Well, that cleared it up.
I clicked [Hestia's Blade] and the blue light slammed the other side away, illuminating the room in a blue glow that forced me to close my eyes.
"I accept, Auntie," I heard my own voice say robotically. "I'll leave tonight."
"Good," I opened my eyes, and Hestia was smiling at me. The light was nowhere to be seen, and she didn't seem to notice everything had been frozen. She held out her hand. "Then take my power, nephew."
I reached forward.
"Brace yourself," Hestia warned.
When Hestia's fingers brushed mine, the warmth she always exuded started to spread—not just in the comforting way you'd expect, but more like a heatwave slowly crawling across my skin. It felt like embers trailing along the length of my arm, glowing and sparking with life.
Thin, fiery lines started weaving up from her hand, tracing over my wrist and forearm. They moved like veins, winding and spreading out, encasing me in a net of burning power. The lines pulsed with a deep, molten glow—soft at first, but growing brighter, more intense with every second, like magma pushing up through cracks in the earth.
I gasped as the heat dug deeper, reaching beneath my skin, into my very bones. I could feel it swirling through my chest, spreading across my shoulders, winding down my legs. The lines continued to trace themselves over my entire body, wrapping me in threads of flame that flickered like a living tattoo. For a second, I thought I might explode—or melt like a gigantic, human-sized candle.
But instead, the fire coiled inward, tightening. The feeling intensified, and it felt like thousands of needles were slamming into every pore of my body, injecting magma into my bloodstream in small spurts.
Everywhere it touched, it left a heat behind, but also a sense of weight—like a promise burned into my soul. Each strand was a bond, a vow sealed with power older than the gods themselves. Hestia's power wasn't just given; it was bound, fused to me, interlaced with my very existence. I could feel it settling in my core, glowing like a furnace inside me, ready to be called upon.
My whole body hummed with heat, and yet, I wasn't scorched. It wasn't a destructive fire; it was life, safety, home. I took a shaky breath, feeling the lines dim back down like the flames receding into embers.
"That was intense," I gasped out as the heat in my chest gave way to an empty chill. My body felt oddly relaxed, like I'd just gotten a full body massage. "How much of your power was that? Like, percentage-wise?"
"Enough," Hestia just smiled. She played with one of her rings. "For now."
"Fair enough. Well, a deal's a deal. I'll leave tonight. I think I should just go through the Underworld. I know where we left off, so I'll just have Uncle poop me out in Los Angeles—" I said after a few moments. The wrinkles on Hestia's face deepened into a frown. A deep, jarring frown, like slices on an apple. "—and you're frowning. Why are you frowning? I thought we just reached an agreement."
"We can't trust anyone," Hestia repeated, her eyes glowing like marbles with flashlights behind them. Their diluted light spilled across the table and over my face. The glow brightened as she said, "That means anyone."
"Not even him?
"No."
"Not even my dad?"
"No."
"Okay," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I leaned back and shrugged, "If we're levying that much suspicion on everyone, why aren't you on the list?"
Hestia gaped. Surprise—or anger, possibly—flitted through her eyes like burning rays of sunlight piercing across a blood orange. The air in the conference room grew heavy. She whispered, "Excuse me?"
I was feeling extra petulant. "You heard me."
The table creaked loudly as Hestia placed her hand on it. "Really, Perseus? This sort of behavior is unbecoming of you."
"You can use my full name if you want, Auntie, but you know how weird this looks. Let's walk through the facts. You just so happen to hear this uber-secret conversation that no one but you can attest to," I reminded her, pointing my index finger in the air. A lick of flame spun around my fingertip like a daisy sprouting out of soil. I raised another fire-coated finger. "Then, you come to camp and use it to try to get me to leave. Immediately. Without telling a soul."
"I hardly think—"
"You don't want the gods to know what I'm up to," A third finger rose, and the fire swathed around my hand like a bandage. When I'd first gotten Hestia's power, it'd just made the fire hurt me a bit less. Now, though, the fire seemed to love me, like water did. It couldn't get enough of me. It danced and swirled around my arm. "Think about it, auntie. You're looking just as suspicious as everyone is to me, if not more. You know something. I know you know something. You need to trust me and tell me what that something is."
"You've grown," Hestia said simply, a curl of brown hair peeking out of her shawl. Her fingers rested on her chin, the fire on my fingers reflecting off her almond-shaped nails. Her lips parted, and she spat, "Distrustful."
"Most tend to," I smiled. I gazed into her eyes, unflinching as a tendril of anger threatened to drive into the middle of my forehead like a chisel carving marble. "I don't run in blind anymore. Forgive me for the pun, but I've been burned a few times too many for that. And what you're asking me to do is exactly that. I'm fine with leaving tonight, Auntie. Really. I am. I just want some information first. Please."
"I need to be careful about what I say," Hestia muttered. Anger bled into her tone, and she sucked in a sharp breath. She slammed her hand on the table and sparks corkscrewed into the air behind us like firecrackers. "Damn it all."
For a moment, I caught a glimpse of what Hestia was like when she wasn't comforting—when the sacrificial flame she represented became anything but.
Now that I had her power thrumming in my veins even more, I truly recognized how powerful and destructive of a force it, and by extension, she was—I'd mistakenly thought she just controlled fire, but now I knew that wasn't true. Not entirely, anyway.
She controlled emotion. Anger. Sadness. She manifested in the form of fiery madness—the putrid green fire I'd come to know and wield. It was richer and more powerful than any normal flame, not because she fueled it, but because the fire itself was born from the deepest emotions of the world. It was the altar flame—ancient and knowing, having witnessed and absorbed nearly every iteration of humankind.
In turn, Hestia wasn't fanning the flame—she was guiding it. Giving it shape. And now, so was I.
"There are forces at play, my dearest," Hestia settled on, sighing and wrapping her shawl around her face even more. She dug her fingernails into the wooden table below us, and lines of light spilled into the weathered cracks. "Forces even more ancient than you could possibly imagine."
"Try me."
"I suppose you've grown enough to hear about these matters," Hestia sighed. Moonlight filtered in from the windows, scattering through the shades like puzzle pieces on the tabletop. "Do you remember when your brother attacked camp a few summers ago?"
"I do," It was hard to forget. It'd been right after Aphrodite and I had decided to make a real go of things, and I'd begun what would eventually become my tradition of dropping back into camp right around Capture the Flag time and leaving right after. He'd steamed a hole right through Thalia's protective barrier and summoned a gigantic sea monster to attack the camp. I mean sure, Triton had apologized after and hosted a seafood boil, but people were still pretty mad, so he'd been periodically apologizing ever since. His latest apology consisted of making a pond in camp where you could walk on the water if you wanted to, with a bunch of water slides and a tiki bar where the drinks were always free and came in those coconut cups. "He poisoned me."
"Do you remember what he poisoned you with?"
"Egyptian poison," I returned, remembering the fleeting feeling of burning venom slogging through my veins. I instinctively raised a hand and placed it on my chest. I stretched three fingers out and pushed upward—it was an ancient technique for dispelling evil. "You were up in arms about it. Aphrodite was too, if I remember correctly."
"It wasn't just the Egyptians," Hestia reminded me. Her calm tone destabilized again as she practically growled, "Your foolish brother had invoked the Romans in his same breath."
"The pantheons don't mix," I parroted, remembering the dangerous meeting on Olympus after Jason's existence had been discovered. Hestia's form flickered for a moment—her brown shawl was replaced with a form-fitting silver cuirass that had the symbol of a cup emblazoned on it. Her hair was braided down her back. "Why? And more importantly, how?"
"Mixing pantheons is dangerous," Hestia—no, Vesta muttered. Her voice was lower and deeper. More cultured and refined. It was like the Hestia I knew went to a fine arts college and came back. "Ancient agreements keep us from crossing into each other's territories. Gods can be quite territorial and possessive of their followers. As you've come to realize, no doubt, some gods can be more prideful than others. More rash."
"No idea what you're talking about," I smiled. "Every god I've ever met has been super kind and understanding. Like, I have this aunt, she's telling me I need to do this super secret thing—"
"Do not interrupt me, boy," Vesta snapped, disappointment wrinkling across her forehead. She continued in a clipped tone, "As for the how, we gods operate on different channels of reality, much like tuning into different radio frequencies. Take the Egyptian gods, for instance—they exist in parallel but separate dimensions. The Duat, I believe. This separation minimizes our interactions, purposefully so. If an Egyptian deity were to try to contact you, they would have to breach that layer of reality. It's incredibly taxing."
That tidbit of information reframed my interactions with the Egyptians so far. Heket was using me as a power source, so that was different, but what about Nephthys? Serqet? The image of Serqet's essence burning through her host's body like clay flashed through my mind. I could still see her crazed smile flashing in between melting skin. "What if they used a human being as a host?"
"A horrible solution. Very few human beings are attuned enough with their spirituality to host a god's essence," Vesta said disapprovingly. "It would likely cause the human host a great deal of pain. Even death, if the exposure continued beyond a reasonable point."
I scratched my forehead. I felt like I was standing in front of the Grand Canyon. Something huge was in front of me, but I couldn't tell what just yet. "So how do you keep track of all this? What if there's an event that needs cross-pantheon attention?"
"The Convergence," Vesta said quietly. The words contained power with a capital P. I felt a ripple, as if the universe itself had taken a deep breath. "It hasn't been used in quite some time—eons, in fact, but that used to be a meeting ground for the pantheons. Every pantheon had its own headquarters—we had Olympus, the Norse had Yggdrasil, and the Hindus had Mount Meru. But, something came up. Something…well, that isn't important in this conversation. So, we created one for everyone—Axis Mundi. The culmination of all the cosmic energy in the universe."
"Whoa," I tried to wrap my head around her words, but the idea of Axis Mundi was a bit frightening if I was being honest. My current worldview was limited to my grandfather and his imminent return. I couldn't even begin to imagine what could come after. I always figured I'd die or spend the rest of my days on a remote island somewhere, drinking coconut milk and watching the waves lap on shore. "You said it hasn't been used in some time?"
"No. Axis Mundi is only accessible during the Demon Days. Very few situations require that sort of broadcasting."
"So how do you interact in the meantime?"
"We don't," Vesta muttered. "It's incredibly frowned upon. This brings me back to my original point, which you've managed to stray me away from. Your brother channeled Egyptian magic to subdue you. An Egyptian technique, fueled by Roman knowledge."
"You think that's happening here," The realization hit me like a bag full of bricks. My chest constricted painfully for a moment. "Someone on Olympus is using magic from another pantheon to carry out whatever it is they're doing."
"Yes," Vesta said, transforming back into Hestia. Her warmth immediately wrapped around me like a hug, and my shoulders sagged. I hadn't felt like I needed a hug this bad in a while. "I don't think it, I know it. My hearth dispels all Greek magic. It's a deadzone for mana. Nothing borne of our magic would be able to survive within its confines."
"And yet, something did. Your magic almost broke through it," I recalled, the static buzz from before tittering in my ears like a swarm of locusts. The puzzle pieces were beginning to come together now. Her paranoia didn't seem so farfetched anymore. "You were close to finding out who it was."
"I very nearly did," Hestia smiled tiredly. Her eyes flashed. "I immediately channeled my essence to Olympus, as well, and locked down my hearth with a protective barrier that could withstand any penetration."
"And yet, whoever was inside got away. How?"
Hestia sighed gently, "Here's where it's guesswork as best. Levying accusations at other pantheons is a heavy burden to bear, so I don't say this lightly, but I would have to assume it was Egyptian magic."
"Why them specifically?" I wondered aloud, Nepthys' face swimming into my mind's eye. Privately, I agreed with Hestia. The Egyptian deities had already been sniffing around us. There was that encounter I had with Julius Kane years ago, and the looming threat of Malcolm's insanity never strayed too far from my mind, either. If I had to put money on it, I'd say it was them. Well, that, and I hadn't met any gods from other pantheons yet. Just knowing they existed was scary enough. "Do they have magic that helps with this kind of stuff?"
"History tells us they do. Unlike us and the deities of other cultures, Egyptian deities did not readily mix with their human subjects. Their interaction was usually found in specific contexts—mostly in the temples and whatnot. They used portals to get in and out."
"They didn't want to be seen with the rabble," I guessed.
"Precisely," Hestia nodded. That was in line with what I'd heard and seen from them so far. They seemed a lot more cunning and shrewd than the Greek deities I'd met. They were more willing to use humans for their own benefit while being less willing to consort with them. "But they didn't give the humans enough credit. They quickly realized what was going on and began swarming around these portals. So the question soon revolved around security: how do you patrol these portals? How do you police who goes in and out? To solve this issue, they created minor gods with the sole purpose of guarding these barriers, and only those who knew their secret names were permitted to pass. Knowing a god's—or anyone's—secret name gave you dominion over them. You could command them to give you passage."
"An Egyptian portal got our spy out of your barrier," I mumbled, squeezing both of my temples with my hand. "Shit."
"Language."
"Sorry," I shook my head, leaning back into my chair. "But I'm just beginning to see how bad this is. Not only do we have a spy in our midst, but the spy is using Egyptian technology, and likely has an Egyptian deity working alongside them."
"At least one," Hestia corrected, "Which is why I'm urging caution until we know more. You are strong, nephew. Perhaps the strongest mortal I've met in some time, maybe ever. But you need to be careful. Causing a cross-pantheon issue is not something you will survive. Especially because we do not know the full breadth of this conflict just yet."
"I understand," I muttered. "I'll keep it to myself for now."
"Good," Hestia said, reaching out and grabbing my face. Her thumb gently slid over my cheekbone, her touch warm as a hearth in winter. "You asked me before, though, how the deities interact without tripping the laws; we use our heroes."
I frowned, trying to piece together what she meant. Her eyes seemed to search mine for understanding.
"Think of it this way," She continued softly, her voice like a flicker of firelight in the dark. "Gods are bound by laws older than time itself. We are like threads in a vast tapestry—each of us woven into our own place, unable to cross without tearing the fabric apart. But you, Percy, and those like you…you are the needles. You slip between the threads, creating connections where none should exist. You carry pieces of us within you, yet you are not fully bound by our limitations. Through you, we can touch the world in ways we otherwise couldn't."
She smiled, and for a moment, the warmth of her presence made me forget the chill of the night air. "You've always been more than just the son of Poseidon," she murmured. She cocked her head to the side and looked at Horus' Eye intently. "You've carried more gods on your shoulders than you know, Percy. Each one has left a mark, a fragment of their essence. That's why you've faced so much—because you're more than just a demigod. You're a bridge, a mix of divine wills, crafted to do what we cannot. Now, I must beseech you again, dearest. Will you raise your sword for Olympus once more?"
I stood at the edge of the camp's wards, underneath Thalia's tree. In the cool air of November, the multicolored pine needles were almost lifelike—they shifted and swayed like coral reefs. Orange and red were nestled amongst various shades of green, like pieces of candy in a Halloween basket.
The base of the tree, right above me, was illuminated by the Golden Fleece, which was wrapped in celestial bronze chains. Camp Half-Blood sprawled before me, a tapestry of rustic cabins and winding trails, all lit with the warm, golden light of Hestia's special lanterns.
Down by the amphitheater, the campfire crackled and popped, its flames leaping toward the star-strewn sky, sending sparks flying like tiny fireflies.
A group of campers was gathered, making smores and telling stories. Normally, I'd just look vaguely in that direction and go, but thanks to my newfound telescopic vision, I could see just what I was missing.
Piper and Thalia were huddled under a fluffy blanket with the New York Knicks logo on it. Steaming cups of cocoa sent trails into the air. Thalia kept looking back toward the Big House, likely searching for my face to appear out of the woodwork like a jack in the box. She was probably getting ready to chew me out.
Malcolm was running around the campfire, playing with Gerald the Hippo. Some of the kids were playing the Percy Jackson game again. I could see them whacking each other with sticks, and covering their eyes with their hands, trying to mimic the one-eye look I'd rocked for a year.
I didn't look that tacky, though. I was cool about it. Smooth with it. Mysterious. The kind of cool where girls would see—yeah, you're not buying this. Just so you remember, though, I pulled Aphrodite while looking like that. Just some food for thought.
Malcolm swung Gerald the Hippo at a younger camper hard enough to knock him to the ground, crashing into the marshmallow supply. A bunch of older campers got up and pulled the two fighting boys away from the goods, and I couldn't help but chuckle.
Elena wouldn't be happy. Well, actually, she was going to be leaving soon for a quest, so maybe she wouldn't get to see the aftermath. Silena, much to the campers' approval, got another bag of marshmallows and began distributing them out. She was barely visible in the gigantic sweatshirt she was drawing in, maroon with Yancy Academy's logo primed at the front like an invitation—hey, wait, that's mine!
Did the girls just raid my closet? Rude! My being here wasn't an excuse to steal all my comfy clothes.
As Malcolm crossed his arms and was forcibly sandwiched between Thalia and Piper by a Hermes kid, I felt a cold fist of ice close around my heart. My ribcage felt brittle and stiff, and I felt like if I took a deep enough breath, I'd shatter into a million pieces.
I wanted to be with them more than anything. All I'd ever wanted, really, was to belong. And I had that. I had so much more than that. I didn't just belong at camp, I was treated like a celebrity there.
And yet, I knew I had to leave. If Artemis was really in trouble, she needed to be helped, and fast. Or not just camp, but the whole world would be in danger. And then, there wouldn't be any more campfires. For anyone.
And what a world that would be.
I took another long look at the campfire, the flames flickering in the distance, sending sparks spiraling upward into the night like lost wishes. It was more than just a campfire—it was a snapshot, a moment frozen in amber. A portrait.
It was like a live version of the framed photo in my cabin, the one of all of us before the Fall Ball, huddled together, laughing, untouched by everything that came after. A memory, suspended in time, as if nothing bad could ever happen after that.
The fire crackled, bright and warm, the laughter of the other campers barely reaching my ears, muffled by the distance. I could make out the shapes around the fire—I could see every last one of their faces glowing in the orange light, blissfully unaware of the weight pressing down on my chest. I'd protect them all.
The sad thing was, though, I knew what it was now. The feeling, I mean. It was the same feeling I felt when I left Yancy for the last time, or even spent time in the Underworld with Sephy, coming to grips with everything that had happened.
It's the kind of feeling that comes when you realize things will never be the same again, like a weight that just sits on your chest forever and doesn't go away. And I felt it again.
It hit me then, harder than I thought it would: I didn't belong in that circle anymore. I was standing on the outside, watching from the shadows, always watching, like I was looking at a postcard from a place I used to know but couldn't return to. Each time I tried to step back into that light, it felt more distant, more unreachable.
I wondered if they felt it too, the slow drift. The gap between us was widening like a crack in the earth, so gradual at first that no one was even noticing it. No one would, either, until it became a chasm we couldn't cross anymore, even if we wanted to.
But maybe they didn't. Maybe it was just me, holding onto a version of camp that no longer existed. Maybe it was the same place, and I was the one who'd changed.
The flames danced, casting long shadows that stretched toward me, flickering over the pine trees, the cabins, the fields. The air smelled like burning wood and marshmallows—something comforting, something that should've made me feel at home.
But it didn't. Not anymore.
A gust of wind passed through the trees, bending the fire ever so slightly, like the gentle stream of a river. How many more nights would there be like this? How many more times would I stand on the outside, wondering if I could ever be a part of it again?
The answer felt like it was already written, somewhere deep inside. I wasn't coming back—not really. Not in the way that mattered. Whatever path lay ahead of me, it wasn't here, in the safety of the campfire's glow. It was out there, somewhere far away, waiting in the dark. I stared at the moon, at Artemis, and shook my head.
Memories. Just memories now. At least that way, no one could take them from me.
I sighed and gently placed my hand on the tree. "Next time. Next time, for sure. I didn't even get to see Jason."
It was a shame my lying skill didn't work on myself.
I turned my back on the fire, walking away from the warmth, into the cold shadows. I fumbled around my pocket. Ilvis and Riptide were nestled in my pocket, around the key to the car Mr. D had given me a few summers ago.
I fished the key out of my pocket, my fingers tracing the familiar smooth edges as I prepared to summon the car. But just as my thumb hovered over the usual button, something strange happened. Another button, faintly glowing with a soft, ethereal light, flickered into existence on the fob. I squinted down at it. The symbol was unmistakable—a sleek, stylized motorcycle.
Curiosity buzzed in my veins, overriding any hesitation. After all, what was the worst that could happen?
I pressed the glowing button.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the ground beneath me rumbled, sending a vibration up through my legs. The earth seemed to part as a dark shape began to rise from the depths, sleek and menacing. A motorbike, forged in a way that no mortal hands could have crafted, emerged with a low, almost predatory purr.
It was all black, except for the chrome gleam of its trim and the faint glow of symbols etched into its frames. I stared at it, my hand still clutching the key fob, now with both buttons glowing. The bike idled there as if waiting for me, its engine purring like a beast ready to be unleashed.
"Well, that's new," I muttered, taking a cautious step forward. My fingers itched to grip the handlebars, to feel the raw energy humming through the machine. I sat and revved the engine, and a roar echoed throughout the forest. It was so loud that the trees shook for a moment. I smiled, "This'll work just fine."
I probably rode for five hours without even thinking about stopping. The motorcycle—like the car before it—was clearly juiced up with some serious magic, and it let me tear through the interstate like a bat out of hell.
But, in truth, it wasn't just the bike's speed that was supernatural. I probably would've had all the skin ripped off my skeleton if that was the case. It was more like the motorcycle warped the world around me, shifting reality itself to keep up with its momentum.
Imagine standing in the middle of a fast-flowing river. The current rushes past you, but you're stationary, just watching the water speed by. That was what riding this bike felt like.
The road wasn't racing beneath my tires; the entire world was. It was as if the bike made time flow differently around me, so even though I felt like I was cruising at a normal pace, I was actually blazing across the highway, covering miles in what should've been an impossible timeframe.
I didn't notice how far I'd gone until the blazing roads and buildings of the city turned to fields of grain and rolling hills. I almost blew through a sign dotted with sunflowers and grass.
WELCOME TO KANSAS!
Kansas. I was already in Kansas, and it didn't even feel like I'd been riding that long. My mind tried to wrap around the absurdity of it, but the bike just purred beneath me, content and powerful, as if it knew the secrets of the world and wasn't in any hurry to share.
The wind began to pick up as the night grew stronger, painting the sky in shades of purple and black.
"Maybe I'll take a quick break," I muttered to myself. I kind of had to pee, anyway. I might be able to fight monsters, command the seas, and pull off feats that would make most superheroes jealous, but when it comes down to it, I'm still human. And if there's one thing that reminds me of that fact every single time, it's the inescapable need to pee.
I spotted a gas station up ahead. It was one of those rundown places that probably hadn't seen a remodel since the last century, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I pulled in, the motorcycle's engine purring to a halt as the wind finally stopped roaring in my ears. Silence. Sweet silence. I'd almost forgotten what that sounded like.
I took another look at the gas station. The place looked like it belonged in a horror movie—it had a peeling sign, flickering fluorescent lights, and a cracked asphalt lot with weeds poking through the gaps. There was a billboard next to it that was so covered with graffiti that I couldn't even tell what could've possibly been underneath.
I didn't really care.
I swung my leg off the bike and approached the gas station. Riptide blazed to life on my shoulder. I figured if anything worth fighting was in there, it would see my sword and know I meant business.
The door creaked on rusty hinges as I pushed it open, and a tiny bell above the frame dinged weakly in response, announcing my arrival. I whistled a jaunty tune and skipped inside.
The inside was just as dingy as the outside, with dusty shelves lined with expired snacks and faded magazines. The flickering overhead lights buzzed like a swarm of angry bees, casting eerie shadows on the grimy floor.
I made a break for the bathroom sign at the back of the store, but as I reached for the handle, something strange happened. The buzzing of the lights seemed to grow louder, more insistent, and the air around me felt thick, almost electric. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob, as a creeping sense of unease settled into my bones.
This wasn't just a pit stop anymore. Something wasn't right, and my instincts—honed by years of dodging deadly traps and battling mythological creatures—were screaming at me to be on guard.
My need to pee, however, was still very real. So, with a deep breath, I gripped the handle and pushed the door open, ready for whatever weirdness was about to come my way.
Thankfully, nothing was there. I did my business, grabbed a pack of mini frosted donuts that I double and triple-checked to make sure weren't expired, a can of iced tea, and went back outside.
Tip jar still rattling from the pennies I'd flung in there and donuts stuffed in my mouth, I kicked the door back open and saw a figure leaning against my bike.
"There you are, princess," I swallowed the food, and gave a smirk to Artemis, who rolled her eyes. I gave her a quick once over. She looked, well, like shit. Her shiny hair had lost all its luster, and that beautiful tan I'd seen on her was a ghostly pallor instead. Her eyes were sunken, and her cheeks were gaunt. The scowl on her face was the same, though. "You've got everyone in quite the frenzy."
"Yeah?" Her voice was scratchy and raw. She was dressed in a puffer vest, a flannel, and a pair of beat-up jeans. Even though she was beautiful, she looked tired and beat down, like she'd pulled a few all-nighters in a row. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, no need to apologize to me, I don't care," I dangled my bag of mini donuts in front of her. She pursed her lips and glared at me, "You want one? You look like you could use some."
She held her hand out expectantly, and I shuffled the bag. A few mini-donuts tumbled out into her waiting palm, and she closed her fingers around them.
"Thanks," Artemis popped one in her mouth as I sat on my bike, cross-legged. Strands of red in her hair turned gray and brittle as she munched on the donut. Eventually, she said, "This is disgusting. You have no taste. It tastes like a block of sugar."
"Powdered donuts are the best. You just have no taste," I inhaled the rest of the bag. I crumpled up the bag and flung it at the nearest trashcan. It dinged the edge and fell in. Still got it, Jackson. Still got it. "So…"
"So…" Artemis said, drumming her fingertips against the seat. They left small indents in the leather. She sniffled, and her nose turned red in real-time, like she was Rudolph, gearing up to take Santa's sleigh for a spin. "You met with Zoe. And heard her out."
"I suppose I did," I retrieved Artemis' dagger out of my [Inventory] and held it out in front of her. I flipped it, my fingers grasping the blade as I extended the handle to her. "You want it back?"
"It's not going to help me much right now anyway," Artemis shook her head. She bit her lip. "I'm bound."
I searched her face. She searched mine. "Where are you?"
"You know where," Artemis raked a hand through her hair. Her lips had a bit of powder on them. "Mt. Tamplais. Where I suspect Zoe is going to be coming."
"You didn't want me to go with them?"
"It's believed that you and I aren't on the best terms right now," Artemis sighed. She shrugged, "True, of course, but that gives us the element of surprise. Once you find the Ophiotaurus, you'll be able to get to me and free me."
"Who kidnapped you?"
"A titan. I didn't see who," A bit of the Artemis I knew returned, as her voice grew stronger and her eyes blazed angrily. She licked her pink lips, but instead of turning wet, they grew drier, "I was blindsided. There was more than one, actually."
"And you think we're going to be able to fight our way out of there?" I scoffed. Anger coiled around my throat. "And you just sent your hunters and my friends there. Fuck, Artemis, what are you thinking?"
"The gods aren't exactly lining up to save me," Artemis spat. A vein popped on her forehead. "One of the many drawbacks to—"
"Being a bitch?"
"—not having friends on Olympus," Artemis finished, glaring at me. There wasn't much heat behind the look. "I see their point, nonetheless. Mobilizing the gods for something like this would be foolhardy. Real war preparation takes time. We don't know what we're up against. We wouldn't even know who to send."
"Sounds like you gods could spend more time researching threats," I added. "You guys have gotten complacent."
"Partly," Artemis admitted, slumping a bit. "The other part of this whole thing is that the world itself has gotten more complicated. It's harder to fight a war now. Harder to unite the Olympians. Think back to the last war."
"It's been a while," I agreed. I hopped off the seat and offered to let her sit. She took a seat. "So, what? You guys aren't ready for war?"
"Physically, we are. Emotionally, well, that's a separate question, isn't it?" Artemis trembled, and for a moment, her visage streaked with transparency. She looked like a hologram blinking in and out of existence. I grabbed her hand, and a surge of mana was yanked out of my body as her form solidified. "There are cliques on Olympus. Bad blood. Egos. Everyone has their own agenda, save for a few. Admittedly, I'm not perfect in this regard, either."
"Right. You like to blast friends out of chariots."
"I already apologized for it once," Artemis turned her nose up at me. She shoved my hand away like it was a gun, cocked and pointing at her face, "I won't be doing it again. You can choose to accept my apology or leave it. I don't particularly care either way, Oreo."
"Sure you don't."
"I don't."
"That's what I said. You don't."
A ghost of a smile danced on Artemis' lips. A trail of blood ran down her nose. "Good. Maybe there's some hope for your pea brain after all."
"You do owe me though," I said, dangling her dagger between my fingertips again. "This wasn't in our original agreement."
"Take it up with my brother. He's the one who hired you."
I laughed, "You're very shrewd. Technically, I was just repaying a favor. Originally, he told me he'd just call it in for a night out, or something. Alas, he used it on you, and now, my contract with him is up. This is all happening on your dime now, Artemis."
"It was surprising to me that he used it on you," Artemis tapped her index finger on her bottom lip. She muttered, "All you did was slow me down anyway."
"You wound me, Arty," I stumbled backward, grabbing my heart and waddling like I'd been shot in the chest. "Oof."
My joke splashed around Artemis like a wave. She was deep in thought as she took a swig out of my Arizona can. "Artemis?"
"Nothing," She lied, glancing back at me. Her eyes were bright with emotion, but I couldn't tell why. I wanted to push it, but she seemed fragile like this. I didn't want to drive her away. "So, what, you need compensation for coming to save me?"
"Ideally, yes."
"What do you want, Oreo?"
"A 15% match in my 401K would be nice."
"What's a 401K?"
"Never mind. How about this," I said, raising my hands and stepping back to her. I placed my hand on the edge of the seat and leaned closer, so we were maybe a foot apart. "Tell me the truth."
"The truth?" Artemis repeated. Her fingers tapped around the edge of my can. The weird blend of sugar and mango danced around my nostrils. "About what?"
"You know what," I said seriously.
Artemis leaned closer to me, as crow's feet appeared around her eyes. We were only a few inches apart, so I felt the rush of air behind every syllable as she spat, "Humor me."
My heart skipped a beat. "Why did you blast me out of that chariot?"
There was a pause, the kind that lingered just long enough to make me second-guess asking. Artemis, her silver eyes glinting like the crescent moon, tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.
For a moment, I thought she wasn't going to answer.
Then, with a sigh, she spoke, her voice quieter than I expected, "You needed to understand something," she finally said, her eyes tracing the horizon behind me. "And you don't learn without a little push. No one does, but especially not you."
I scoffed. "A push? You blasted me out of your mystical chariot because I needed a push? You must think I'm dumber than Jasper if I'm going to sit here and let you lie to my face like that. Wow! I'm kind of offended actually. I thought we were friends."
"It's true!"
I shook my head, "Wow, so I ask for one tiny little thing in return for risking my life to save yours, and you can't even respect that enough to tell me the truth."
Artemis turned her gaze towards the moon, the light reflecting in her eyes like a disco ball. For a long moment, she didn't speak, as though weighing her words carefully. Finally, she sighed, soft but heavy, and I noticed her fingers absently tracing the edge of the can.
"You know, Percy," she began, still not looking at me, "Fine. You want an answer? Here. Working with you...it's like fireworks."
I blinked, taken off guard by the analogy. I'd been described as a lot of things before. Annoying. Funny. Handsome. Weirdly good at the New York Times crossword for someone with dyslexia. But fireworks? That was a new one.
My words dripped with sarcasm, "Fireworks? I didn't know I was that bright."
A soft smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. It reminded me of when it was just the two of us, blasting through the sky on her chariot. "Oh no, don't misunderstand me. You're not bright. You're very dumb."
"Ah, well you're the one describing me as fireworks, of all things. That's such a weird thing to say to someone. I don't think anyone, in history, has ever described someone else like that."
"Percy—" There it was again. My real name. My heart did a little tap dance in my chest, hearing her say it like that.
"Have you ever seen fireworks?"
"Yes!" Artemis said petulantly, crossing her arms.
"No, like, actually, though. Do you even know what they sound like?"
"Yes, I have seen fireworks, and yes, I know what they sound like. I know what they smell like, too, before you incessantly verify if every sense I have has been involved in a fireworks show."
"Alright," I relented. "You're the one describing as all bright and stuff, so…"
"Not like that, Percy," she said, shaking her head gently. "It's...you're…unpredictable. Explosive. Fireworks, at least the way I see them, are over in a blink, but while they're happening, everything else fades away." Her voice softened, as though she was confessing something even she hadn't fully processed. "You're just there. In the moment. Watching. And, that's like what you are. You're focused, like me, but you're...free at the same time."
I didn't know how to respond. My usual quick wit failed me, and I just stood there like a fish out of water. I wanted to ask her if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but something about the way she said it made me think she wasn't entirely sure herself.
Artemis finally turned her gaze toward me, and there was something different in her eyes. Something vulnerable that I wasn't used to seeing in her. She shook her head again, this time as if to clear her thoughts, and the old Artemis returned. The unreadable goddess. The one who didn't need anyone. She stood up straighter, more distant now, her fingers still grazing the can.
"But fireworks always end," She added, a little more firmly, like she was reminding herself as much as me. "And there's always something else that needs doing. You were distracting me from my goal, and I needed to get back on track. I knew you'd be fine."
The air felt heavier. I wanted to say something, anything to keep her here a little longer, to figure out what that strange shift between us meant. But before I could, she gave me one last glance, something softer lingering behind her silver gaze.
"You know, that's the great thing about fireworks," I said, a smile stringing across my face like Christmas lights. "There's usually a second show. When's our second show going to be, Celine?"
Artemis gave me a soft smile. The corners of her mouth curled up tiredly like the edges of an old bear trap being forced to spring into action. "Come find me, Oreo. Why don't we start there?"
Hearing her call me that ridiculous nickname again made something in my chest unclench, just a little.
"Start where, exactly?" I asked, half-joking, half-serious.
Artemis turned to me fully, her silver eyes shimmering, "Wherever the hunt takes you. Wherever you think you can keep up. I've always said to hunt where the moonlight's brightest," She paused, her gaze flicking down briefly to the dagger at my side, then back up with a knowing smile. "Look closely. You might find more than you expect."
And with that, she was gone, a silver shimmer fading into the plains of wheat as if she had never been there in the first place.
I hesitated, glancing down at the dagger, then up at the moon, glowing like a beacon in the night sky. Artemis's words echoed in my mind. Slowly, I lifted the blade toward the light. For a second, nothing happened. But then, as the silver edge aligned with the moon's glow, a shimmer sparked along the blade's surface, like it was drinking in the light.
Suddenly, the moonlight intensified, the dagger vibrating in my hand. The air around me felt charged, humming with energy. The blade pulsed once—twice—before the light shot outward, fanning across the landscape in a thin, radiant beam. Where the light touched, a path began to form, shimmering faintly like a trail of stardust stretching ahead into the woods.
AN: Welcome back everyone! Sorry, this one took a bit longer than I expected. Oops. Well, at least we're getting somewhere now, eh? I was curious to see what everyone was going think of the karmic decision, and now I'll be curious to see what you think of his decision and reasoning.
This is one of those chapters where it's a pretty solid chapter in its own right, and even more so if you're one of those eagle-eyed readers who look "underneath the underneath " so to speak. Hope you enjoy it.
I'm not going to give you a long-winded reason to join the Discord. All I'll say is...please join: Linktr . ee /maroooon
And see you next time! Peace out!
- Maroon