Prologue: Fading Flames

Prytaneum

Fading Flames

​A battle the likes of which I'd never seen was being fought—and I literally couldn't see it.

Or, well, I didn't dare look. I'd managed to survive only by flinching away at the right time when the Gods showed their true forms and I wasn't quite ready to test my luck any further by trying to sneak peaks at a fight that could literally kill me with a glance. Even with the Curse of Achilles to protect me, I felt like I was burning just by being this close to so much power.

I didn't dare open my eyes.

But…I didn't leave, either. I was huddled close to Hestia's fire, as if seeking warmth and not shelter from the magical oven this room had turned into, helpless to do anything, and yet I didn't run.

Even I wasn't sure why. I suppose part of it was because…well, run where? We were fighting for the sake of the world here.

And we were losing.

One by one, I heard the gods falling. Without being able to see, it was hard to know what was happening—it turns out that when a bunch of gods fight against a titan, they do it to a soundtrack full of explosions—but from the amount of people screaming in pain, I assumed the answer was 'not well.'

I guess that wasn't surprising; this wasn't really a place that favored us. I didn't know how it worked, but if a god's throne was damaged or destroyed, it did something to them that Kronos seemed really interested in causing, so it had to be bad—and he had plenty of targets. Luke had pushed us all the way back to the throne room.

Thinking of Luke brought another surge of anger—but he was already long gone now. He'd died when Kronos rose and hopefully was burning in some terrible corner of the Fields of Punishment. I had no idea what Kronos would do to the Underworld if he won here, but I was doubtful he cared about Luke or any of the other demigods who served him now that he'd gotten what he wanted. I wondered if any of them had realized that in the end.

I hadn't really asked—and I'd been the end of most of them. I still wasn't sure how I felt about that, but…

Without needing to look, my hand went to the dagger at my side.

Annabeth's dagger.

After everything I'd done, all the times I'd spared and saved Ethan, he'd still fought for Kronos. He'd still tried to kill me—might have even succeed. I don't know how he'd known where my weak point was or how Annabeth could have known I was in danger, but they had.

And Annabeth had died in my arms for saving me.

Ethan had followed her to the grave. So had a lot of other people. I'd always tried to avoid killing enemy demigods, but it obviously didn't stop them from trying to kill me and my friends. So I'd…

No. That might have been part of it, but the truth was that I was just angry. Angry and terrified, for the friends I'd lost and kept losing. I didn't want to lose any more, so I'd tried to kill anything that tried to take them away.

It hadn't helped much. I didn't know if it had helped at all. One way or the other, we were here and Kronos had risen to power.

Where was the Prophecy now? Where was my choice? Had I already made it? Had I chosen wrong?

…For all I knew, I'd forgotten to have all the parts of a well-balanced breakfast and it had doomed us all. That was just the kind of day I was having.

But prophecy or no prophecy, I was here now and I had to do something.

If only I had any idea what.

He wasn't invulnerable anymore, I reminded myself. Sure, he'd traded that in for enough Phenomenal Cosmic Power that I'd have vanished in a sudden puff of Demigod if not for Hestia's protection—but he wasn't invulnerable now, so there was a tiny, insignificant chance that I'd be able to do something besides flail ineffectually at him. There was still hope.

Wasn't there?

I thought of everything that had been lost. Beckendorf, Michael, Lee, Silena.

Annabeth.

And gods only know how many more had died while we'd fought up here. For all I knew, my father was one of them. Were any of those death groans his? Was he looking at me as he died or trying to protect me as he fought? I couldn't even open my eyes to confirm.

But even if he was alive now, he probably wouldn't be for much longer.

Hope, I thought again, feeling wetness on my face. I honestly wasn't sure I had that any more. Even if I succeed somehow and killed Kronos, after everything that had been lost, after everyone that had been killed…what would I even do? Go back to the Camp? Would there even be enough people left for a Camp anymore? There probably wouldn't be any new demigods any time soon, either. And with everyone that had died today…

Camp Half-Blood was gone in every way that mattered. And for all I knew, my entire family with it.

A part of me wondered where I would go and what I would do if I did manage to survive. Thinking about it, I wasn't sure what else I had if all of this was taken away. And I guess that with a record of all the schools I'd been kicked out of, I'd have a hard time doing well, not that I'd ever given much thought to college or anything. If anyone had asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, the only answer I would have had was 'Alive.' And that was looking less likely by the second.

But I wasn't really worried about it. Honestly, I was still a bit surprised I'd lived to turn sixteen—and for all that the evidence that I wouldn't survive long beyond it was piling up, it didn't bother me as much as it could of before I'd seen everyone else die and it had started to seem inevitable.

Yeah…I wasn't sure if I had hope anymore.

But I still knew I had to fight. They'd all died for this—what right did I have to give up after that?

But how could I do anything if I couldn't even approach Kronos? If I couldn't even look at him?

"Lady Hestia," I said, wondering if she could even hear me over this racket. I could barely hear myself. "Do you know what I did wrong?"

She was silent long enough that I was about to speak again, but—

"You didn't do anything wrong," She replied, sounding concerned. Whether about me or the situation, I had no idea.

"The Prophecy," I answered regardless. "'A single choice shall end his days. Olympus to preserve or raze.' I'm guessing I chose wrongly? You told that when it came time, I'd have to know how to yield, but I…"

This time she didn't answer, making me exhale.

"I have to go," I said, standing. My body was wary from the fight and rising, drawing even just an inch close to the battle, made me feel like I'd spontaneously combust.

"Go?" Hestia asked calmly. "And accomplish what?"

I shrugged without opening my eyes.

"Anything I can," I said. "Even if it's just dying to try and get in his way. Lying around to die isn't my style."

"No," She said. "I suppose it isn't."

I shrugged again, this time more awkwardly.

"Thanks for, you know, keeping me from evaporating," I said. "I appreciate it. I don't suppose you can…?"

Even I wasn't sure what I was asking her to do. Help me? Fight with me? Protect me from someone who was taking the rest of her pantheon to school?

As I fell silent, I heard Hestia whisper something.

"What?" I asked, failing to hear it. When I felt her touch my hand, I nearly opened my eyes, which probably would have been a horrifically bad decision.

"I will do what I can," Hestia said, though I'm pretty sure that wasn't the answer to my question. "Do you remember what I told you, Percy Jackson?"

"To remember you when I face my final decision?" I tried.

She chuckled quietly.

"I suppose that will do as well," She said, voice sad even as it began to fade. "Open your eyes, Percy Jackson."

I hesitated for a moment before trusting her. What I saw was blinding light and flashing color, with forms moving within them like fish beneath the water's surface. I nearly flinched, but fortunately didn't die instantly, so instead I turned my head to look at Hestia—

But she wasn't there. At some point, the hand on mine had faded. The hearth she'd guarded all this time had flickered and died down to ashes. And in the center…was Pandora's Box. Jar. Whatever.

I swallowed and nearly shied away from it, turning back towards the battle—but something made me pause and wonder. It was the nature of the jar, I think, to make people wonder what was inside—or maybe Pandora had had ADHD, too. Was she a demigod? I couldn't remember. But…

"Sometimes the hardest power to master is the power of yielding…was it?" I murmured before shaking my head. But I couldn't give up, couldn't yield.

But hadn't I just thought that I didn't have any hope anyway? It wasn't hope that was driving me now. Yet…

'Elpis, the Spirit of Hope, would not abandon humanity. Hope does not leave without being given permission. She can only be released by a child of man.'

I licked my lips and did as promised, thinking of Hestia.

And then I knelt in the ashes and reached out to touch the jar.

"I don't give you up," I whispered, feeling silly. I had no idea if anyone could hear me, much less Elpis. "I just…set you free. Maybe I need some hope right now. If Hestia can't keep you at the Hearth, then stay with me."

Having murmured the words, I opened the jar and found nothing inside.

"What?" I asked, stunned. Had it been empty to begin with? Had someone else gotten to it first? Or had Elpis slipped out without me noticing? Then…was she here still?

…Did it matter if she wasn't?

I took another deep breath and let the jar fall from my hands to clatter on the floor. Then I drew my hands to my sides, drawing my sword and dagger as I turned back towards the fight. Now that I could see, however vaguely, my heart plummeted. There were scattered corpses and broken thrones all throughout the hall, with only a few figures remaining—and they seemed to be faltering against the scorching figure I assumed was Kronos. Looking at what he'd done to a bunch of gods reminded me that this was really hopeless, but that didn't matter either.

Looking from my blades to his, I felt my heartbeat steady.

'The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap.'

Backbiter wove in an out of divine flesh amidst cries of pain and I knew what I was about to do meant my death. The choice I was about to make would end my days or whatever fate had decided. And that didn't matter either.

I crouched low, moving as a quietly as I could behind the thrones as I kept an eye on the fight. I ignored the burn of my eyes, of my flesh, and steadily approached, waiting for my opening with all the patience I could. I remembered what had been sacrificed to give me this shot and knew I had to make it count. I didn't move even when one of the figures fell, knowing full well that it could have been my own father, because I'd only get one shot at this. I instead stopped behind a chair, my father's chair, and pressed in close to wait.

When ichor sprayed, I did nothing.

When stone shattered, I stayed still.

But when Kronos kicked the luminous figure in front of him away and laughed, I stepped forward and drove my blade towards his back. He whirled around with a sudden snarl and I felt time slow, the air seeming to turn to syrup around me—but it wasn't enough to stop me. Maybe I was faster than either of expected or he had been weakened by the fighting; I didn't know or care.

What mattered was that Riptide slipped right into his chest and I bowled him over. He snarled a word at me, but my blood was up now and the remaining gods must have seen their chance. I heard a shout, a crackle of lightning and the rush of a torrent. Kronos glowed even more brightly, holding it back somehow, but I didn't stop. Leaving him pined to the floor with Riptide, I gripped Annabeth's dagger even harder, raising it high and then bringing it down on his widened eye.

It wasn't enough to kill him, I knew as I watched him scream. But it seemed to distract him.

His remaining eye, glowing bright gold even as his mouth frothed, glared at me and I felt something seize me and throw me back. I hit the ceiling hard enough to fly through it into the sky above and it took a couple seconds to come back down. I crashed through the roof again—of course, right?—and ended up bouncing off a broken throne and sliding across the ground.

Kronos was there when I came to a halt, effortlessly gripping me by the throat even as he plucked the dagger from his eye with his other hand. He stabbed it at me, sending sparks crying up from my skin, before pausing to look at me carefully, as if he were peering through me at everything I was.

With a derisive snort and a wicked smile, he kicked my knees out from under me and drove the blade at my back.

"The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap," He said, laughing as the blade slipped through my skin.

I let loose a stunned breath and tried to scream but I didn't have the breath. It hurt and from that fact alone, I knew he'd killed me.

But because I'd expected that, I kept my eyes opened and smiled, drawing in everything I had left and letting it flood out. Water flooded the throne room and whether it was that or the sudden shaking that tripped Kronos up, I wasn't sure. I heard buildings falling and I fell with them as I was thrown aside. I couldn't get up.

I didn't have to. While I lay bleeding, I saw the remaining gods fight. They were shouting, but I couldn't hear.

But…this much was fine, right?

I saw lightning strike. I saw Olympus shake and collapse. I saw Kronos struggle and roar and rage—and then start to glow, spite bright in his one remaining eye.

Then, there was a rush of light and I saw nothing at all.