I: Oh Shit, I'm Still Alive

I woke up choking on my tears, in a room I didn't know. I was wearing some sports bra that wasn't completely wrecked by the blood and dirt. I reached for my chest, and realized how it didn't hurt. The same applied to my ripped leg muscle, my concussion, the cuts everywhere. They'd simply disappeared. 

"Apollo did that."

I turned around and saw the familiar black haired dimwit sitting on an armchair, looking at me. Percy fucking Jackson.

Oh, well… this isn't a good look, is it? Uhm, lemme explain. I didn't sleep at Percy's house just because, cross my heart. Fuck, then, alright, let's take a look at a couple of days ago, before I went comatose. 

The Battle of Manhattan.

***

The dry sound of my steps stained the stone steps of Mount Olympus. Below me, monsters and children roared in anguish and victory, but I knew the real battle happened above me. 

As I came closer to the throne room, limping, I could hear the people talking. Kronos insistently told my brother to finish off Percy once and for all. For some godforsaken reason, it did not feel right in my conscience to stand by and watch that happen. Although I didn't really like Percy, and often felt nauseated by his hypocritical righteousness and bravery, something in me whispered that this was not justice. 

But what could I do? I had already chosen. I would not betray my family for a kid I didn't know.

Kronos' angered scream interrupted my train of thoughts, and then I saw it. Kronos' scythe dripped with blood; my brother's blood. 

Shards of his own sword, given to him by the goddess Nemesis, pierced his bronze armor, staining it with reddish tint. The silvery metal did not cave when his mouth opened with a gasp. He didn't scream, a determined look in his eyes as he faced the furious Titan. Both knew he had lost. 

With a swing of his scythe, Kronos opened a fissure in the dry weeping stones of the floor, that crackled obediently. My brother was tossed back, and his eyes crossed mine one last time as he fell through the orifice. 

My eyes went wide, and I was shocked enough to not move for seconds. The howl that came from me stretched my jaw, hurting my own ears, more than the Titans' commands ever had. The letters of his name flowed down my mouth like a broken river, such as the tears from my eyes. It shook the room, and they all looked at me, as if they'd forgotten to think of me. .

Perseus' eyes were filled with sorrow; he looked at me with pity and empathy. I did not care how he looked at me.

"Erica." Kronos called out. I glanced at him. His expression was almost mournful, as if he almost resented what he had done, but I knew he didn't. "There was no other way. He was a traitor."

I did not answer. The sound of semi-mortal blood, the same blood that ran through my veins and had run through the veins of my father and Nemesis, dripped to the ground, and was almost louder than the ring in my ears, and its murdered red outshone the aura from all the demigods in the room. 

I was too angry to think, consumed by the burning sensation that his last gaze had ripped from my heart. Ethan was gone. My brother, my best friend, the only person I'd known since my birth… dead. All he'd done. Gone.

"You killed my brother." I growled, and without thinking I ran toward him, sword swinging. The jump was messy, uncalculated. My movements were sloppy with pain and slow with emotion.

I would've anticipated it, I did anticipate it, but if only I cared. I did not care for the torn muscle in my calf that had not healed, I did not care for any of the injuries that impaired my fighting. I would die fighting for my brother. 

In Luke's sharp eyes, Kronos looked at me. Almost sorrowful, almost. With a nudge of his fingers, time slowed around everyone. I was stuck midair, my bronze sword raised inches above his head. He caressed my cheek, wiping my tears, that evaporated under his boiling hot fingers.

"I truly wish it had not come to this, Erica." he mumbled apologetically, as his hand wrapped around my chin. I wished he had broken my neck. Instead, he leaned in, and placed a careful kiss on my lips. I disdained it, but I felt Luke in there. He looked sorry.

The son of Poseidon, surprised, glared at me from behind Kronos, who still kissed me gently. The spell started to lose its strength, and he knew it.

Anaklusmos was swung at Kronos, but the blade bounced off, harmless under the villain. The Titan pushed me effortlessly, and instantly I was thrown as a ragdoll, my body collapsing against a wall. Powerlessness, out of which I had been born from, had come once again to greet me in my death. 

Pain seared its way through my ribcage, ripping out an agonized wail from me.

I tried to get up, but I was perfectly aware that I could not stand. In fact, I could barely stay awake. The corners of my vision darkened like a vignette, and the dizziness started to get to me. My inhales were sharp, and the broken bones scratched my lungs mercilessly. Annabeth was looking Kronos in the eyes, begging Luke to listen. She cried for him. 

Luke grabbed the dagger from her hand and stabbed it on his own Achilles' heel. The empathy link between me and him allowed me to feel a semblance of his pain, and already that was excruciating. He did not make a sound, and he looked at me, painfully.

It felt as though he wanted to say something, but he did not. 

He collapsed on the broken stone tiles of what was once glorious, ichor stained blood flowing from his wrist.

My vision turned black.

***

Hah, so… there I was. My supposed rival staring at me in his room, my brother and friends six feet under, my undead million-year-old boyfriend dead again.

"Hey, Percy." I said, assuming that he'd been the one to drag me here.

"Morning, Erica." he replied, with half a smile.

An awkward silence set itself in the room, since we'd never actually talked without imminent death staring at us in the eye. We simply looked at each other.

"Where am I?" I asked, (finally) breaking the silence

"My mum's place, in New York. You've been out for a couple of days, thank gods you woke up." he said, appearing to be relieved too. "Here." 

He tossed some jeans and a shirt at me, and I caught them midair. They were clean, but I was mildly disgusted by the smell of sea that they brought. His clothes, probably. He turned his back to me, although he'd already seen me as I was, for courtesy, I assumed. I put the clothes on and the salty breeze that wasn't particularly uncomfortable assaulted me. It was a tender taste, but it smelled like him, which was, at its least, strange.

My belongings were set on the bedside table. The sheathed dagger gifted to me by Kronos seemed strangely casual laid next to the lamp, as if it was a normal everyday object. My wallet with some keys, my fake and real ID, and money, sat on my perfectly folded black jacket, which still carried the scent of blood and dust. I felt as if there was something missing, but I concluded that I felt odd without the presence of my Erinyes, the name given to my throwing knives. Their sheathes had been tied to Skotos' rump, and were probably there still.

"Your clothes?" I asked unnecessarily.

He turned around and nodded, as I jumped off the bed and stood up, surprised on how I wasn't physically tired at all. I glanced at him. There were questions that needed answers, from both me and Percy. I started.

"You won, yeah?" I swallowed dryly, seeing the limp body of Luke bleed out before me. 

A smile went over his face, ignorant of my tension. He nodded enthusiastically, almost childishly.

"Yes, we won… Grover and Annabeth are alright, and the Titans won't be returning for quite some time, and-" his smile dissipated, as if he suddenly realized that while his friends strived, mine rotted.

"The rebel demigods… What happened to them?" I asked, slowly, scared of what his answer would bring. 

As expected, he averted my eyes mournfully and spoke as if he pitied me, which kind of made me want to dropkick him. I didn't need his fake ass pity. Even the way he'd tended and cared for me while I was knocked out made me annoyed – why would he? To show how awesome and kind and amazing he was? 

"Most were killed toward the end of the war, some were executed right after our victory by impulsive demigods and centaurs, but most were exiled and a handful were forgiven… Don't worry though, I'm sure they value you and your brother's sacrifice, and… if they don't, I'll personally make sure no harm comes to you."

I nodded, pushing down my resentful thoughts. But still, a voice whispered that we'd lost because of Percy. Had my brother not decided to spare him… All of my friends, Alabaster, Remy, Jenna, Ska… they'd be alive.

"Did you find Ethan's body? Did you bury him?" I inquired in turn. My brother… His honor, his soul.

"We cremated an empty casket, Erica. But we gave him every honor we could. Your mother's emblem shone with his name." he answered, peacefully nodding.

"Thank you." I did not let my tears slip through. I wouldn't stain my own pride by crying in front of him. Still, I did not control my emotions, and my grief threatened to crawl through my throat. I desperately clawed for a change of subject. "Beckendorf is alive."

"What?" 

Beckendorf was a close friend of his, I'd heard. His supposed death had shaken all of their camp, and had been a strike to their morale. Percy had felt specially guilty after it, and now he stared in disbelief. 

"I owed you one, remember? I didn't let the sucker drown. My brother and I had a place in case things went south, and he's there now. I swore to myself that I'd let him out or kill him by the end of this. I'll take you to him, and explain the rest on the way."

"Roof?" he asked, holding open the door for me.

"Yeah." I said, walking past the door with a sneer I didn't let him see.

We climbed the fire escape to the roof where he whistled and called for his pegasus.

"BLACKJACK!" he yelled, as a strangely familiar black pegasus landed on the roof.

When it looked at me, something in it snapped, as if it wanted to be as far away from me as humanly (horsely?) possible. Percy reacted to that, mumbling words of reassurance that only the equine could hear.

I knew that horse from somewhere.

"Is he the pegasus from Princess Andromeda? The one for Luke?" I asked, more thinking out loud than demanding an answer.

"You could tell?" he looked kind of surprised as he turned back his neck to face me.

"I have a good memory." I answered dryly, while he mounted his steed. I looked at his steady swiftness, as if he'd been doing that ever since he was born. A nerve in me twisted in jealousy, envying his almost nonexistent effort. 

He lifted tides and summoned waves with the wave of a finger, a flick of his wrist. The horses bowed at the sight of him, nereids blushed and hid their gazes when they smelled his hair in the water. Years of training were unparalleled to his unrefined divinity. Son of Poseidon indeed.

As soon as he sat down, he looked at me as if he expected me to join him.

I laughed without humor and called my pegasus, Skotos. The pitch-black mare with glowing white spots – stars – across her body, descended.

"Nah, Jackson." I said, as Skotos set her hooves on the cheap cement. "Like I'd ride behind you."

She looked at me, shiny eyed, and nudged her head toward my arm, as if in greeting. She seemed sad, somehow, so I ran my hand through her fur in comfort. She whinied gently, and I jumped onto her back, grabbing her lustrous ivory mane.

So she kicked her way upwards, letting the colder air wash past my face. I'd always liked riding, specifically, flying, and for me it'd always been a sort of escape from, honestly, human interaction. In the air, it was just me and my thoughts. Regularly, even if I rode with company, the wind would be too loud for any conversation to be heard. Not that I didn't like people, I just… didn't really like people. No, it's not cringy introvert shit, but for most of my life I'd simply had better to do that strike up small talk with unimportant people.

But for the first time, riding in silence proved daunting. Before, I'd think of strategy, fighting techniques, a plan B with Ethan, the outcome of the war. But now… it was empty. All of that had lost its meaning without Ethan, and without, well, the war. 

Only the dead tiptoed around my mindspace. 

The past often manifested to me in the form of flashbacks, so lively that almost seem like reality.

***

The door shook crisply, twice. 

I was in that small dark room I was kept in after they'd recruited us. I had not stopped thinking, for a single moment, of how to escape with my brother, but every plan was flawed. Every option was doomed to fail.

I had sat on the floor and cried for hours, consumed by powerlessness and terror. Of all the things we were able to fight through, this army, by its sheer size, would not be one of them. 

Seeing Ethan's face in helpless pain had made such an impact in my composure that for seconds, I had only stared in horror, something that I'd regretted immediately after, realizing I'd prolonged his punishment.

As the unwanted visitor opened the door and walked in without my approval, I quickly jumped up, wiping my eyes and throwing my long hair to my back.

It was Luke, our general, the one who would order us around and lead us to glory and all the preposterous bullshit everyone had been fed. He had dark circles under his eyes, but everyone did. No one felt safe sleeping next room of the monsters that hunted you down as a child, and everyone was nauseated of the sickly presence of something less than alive in that place.

"Erica." he greeted as he invited himself in rather rudely.

"Morning, sir." I answered dryly. The age difference between us was quite palpable, due to the height difference and all. He was eighteen, I was fourteen, and he was a good six inches taller than me.

"Don't call me that," he pleaded. "You know, I'm not all bad and stuff."

I didn't react to his comment. Quite the hypocrite, saying he was great and merciful when he made me watch my brother gurgle down the most painful poison known.

"Kid, I'm sorry about the gorgon blood, but…" he paused, looking into my eyes gently. "I see something great in you two. I will need you and your brother by my side, be my mirror and sword. Terrible things have happened to all of us, Erica, and we need to stick together." 

It almost convinced me, how sweet his voice had sounded, how genuine his eyes had seemed. I gained control of my actions.

"The hell with all that shit!" I'd exclaimed. I've always had quite the vocabulary. "You think I've never read a greek myth? You think I don't know what Kronos did!? Fuck your cause. Let me go."

"Calm down, Erica." he said, raising his hands. "Listen to me, we won't hurt you."

"If my brother wasn't in your hand, sick and dying, I would kill every last one of you." I threatened, in between my teeth but still loudly.

He waited patiently for me to calm down, then started talking again.

"There's a reason behind it all, you know." he said, sitting down besides me. "For why we're here. For why you're here."

I said nothing, I didn't face him.

"You're an orphan. You two have had no one but each other; everytime a monster strikes, only you can fend for yourselves." he said, his words slow and understanding.

"Yeah." I answered, and turned my head to look at him. His eyes were strangely gentle.

"And every year, you pray that it gets better, but every year–"

"It gets worse. You learn to fight, even to hide, but it doesn't last." I interrupted, sealing my jaw. "So what's your point, Castellan?"

"Yes." he answered, and a smile formed slightly. "You know you're a demigod. You wondered, there's more of you, how do they survive? Why are they surviving, why are we not?"

I had thought about it that way before. Nemesis had never helped us, or taken us to Camp Half-Blood, she only took away from us. I nodded, and Luke continued speaking in the same tone.

"You weren't sent to camp, because no one there cares that much about another bastard of a minor god. If you'd even bothered to go there, you'd just be stuffed into the Hermes cabin, unclaimed. Me, however… My father, he's an Olympian."

"Hermes, right?" I asked, looking back at him. "God of trickery and liars."

He laughed at my sharp sarcasm, but made no comment.

"Yes. And my mother is insane. When I was younger, she'd chase me around the house, screaming and cursing at me. Which was a bit… traumatizing, to be honest. So I ran away when I was twelve."

Still older than me when I was left with no relatives.

"Ran for two years, into another shithole. Our beloved camp half-blood. Hermes sent me on a quest." he chuckled toward the end, but his body language showed how unfunnily he thought of the situation. "Made me angry. Recycled tropes, you know? Getting apples some other guy already got."

At that time, I'd cruelly pointed to the scar that slashed his eye, with a viciousness that had spawned in my guile.

"And still, you weren't good enough, were you?" 

***

Percy's Blackjack nudged against Skotos intentionally, causing her to bare her fangs at it, scowling. That brought me back to the present. I looked to him, who flew way too close to me, and lifted my chin toward him.

"Nah, man. You're not gonna explain… anything?" he asked, glancing at Skotos. "She doesn't speak much, and when Blackjack touched her, she threatened to… rip him apart and eat his liver."

"Skotos is not the average pegasus. She showed up one day on deck of Andromeda, with a note around her neck." I explained. "She belongs to some other god or person who wanted to aid our petty war, but we don't know who it is, and she doesn't seem too keen to tell, so… yeah."

"Oh, that's cool, very cool. Did you tame her or something?"

"She chose me. She ripped this other guy's arm off when he tried to handle her, but she didn't try to eat me or anything, so we've just been like this since."

He nodded, seeming interested, maybe too much. 

"Beckendorf?" he pleaded.

"Long story." I sighed, and scooted an unwilling Skoto closer to the demigod "My uncle has been dead for eight years, but not legally. We have access to the savings my father transferred him, to what he accumulated for us in those nine years. Dad had this property in Vermont, the place we'd go to if things went wrong. We had a friend who was good with spells, so he helped us modify it. He had enough supplies for fifteen years, and Medusa wouldn't have let anyone near."

Almost cowardly, he shivered when I mentioned the mortal gorgon's name. I'd heard from more than one source that Medusa had been the first monster he'd fought, back when he was an inexperienced kid. Twelve, they'd said. Ethan and I made our first kill when we were ten. How unfair, for Percy to be twice as strong as me or him, when we'd trained so much more than him. 

"Medusa?" 

"Oh yeah." I said "She's changed since her last reincarnation. Pretty nice lady now, and guards the place. Really likes me." 

With those words, the winds turned mad. It blew violently, shaking and slashing through the wings of the equines. Skotos whinied in pain, as blood started to drip from her feathers. Was the wind literally cutting her skin? She jumped to her rear, kicking and shaking as if she was having some kind of stroke. Blackjack mimicked her behavior, while Percy shouted at it.

"They're not listening to me!" he yelled, as he tried to stay on.

"No shit." I muttered to myself. 

I held on for dear life, clutching her belly with my legs, but it wasn't enough. I knew we'd plummet to our deaths if we fell from this height. But I'd had this sort of training. I could hold on until these winds passed.

Until Skotos did a barrel roll.