Chapter Text
Argus drove him back to camp that day before Paul could get home—apparently he and Percy’s mom had a date planned out and Percy and she both agreed that it wouldn’t be the best idea to let Paul see an older Percy in the apartment, so they contacted Chiron and Argus came back with his truck, smiling pleasantly at Percy as he climbed into the car to drive away.
Back at camp, Percy stuck by Chiron’s side the next day, trying desperately to remember what would happen to try and somehow make a difference. He saw campers here and there—faces of people that seemed to trigger something inside him. Something sad and guilty and shameful that Percy wasn’t sure how to interpret. Or maybe he didn’t want to interpret it.
They were getting ready for battle, he knew. The Hephaestus cabin worked hard on making last minute traps and shields and weapons. The Ares kids constantly trained in the arena while the Apollo kids worked hard on honing their archery skills. Some of the campers patrolled around the entrance to the Labyrinth in the woods, switching shifts every few hours and giving reports about any unusual activity in the area.
It felt like the calm before the storm and Percy hated it. He was a kid—definitely no older than sixteen—yet he could feel it in his bone, how he was already familiar with the concept of war. He delivered orders to some of the campers that came to Chiron with questions with such ease that it made him shudder. And the thing was—they listened to him, like he was someone they should obey.
“You’re a natural,” Chiron told him when they were in the Big House, taking a break from walking around camp between all the distressed and tense campers.
The tone of voice Chiron used as he said these words made Percy feel like he was saddened by the observation more than anything. Probably because he came to the same conclusion as him—that this whole situation wasn’t unfamiliar to Percy. That preparing for an invasion, for battle, was something he’s experienced and knew how to deal with.
This wasn’t exactly a good sign for the future, was it?
Percy’s hand came up to mess around with the beads of his leather necklace and he frowned at the floor. “I wish I knew what was coming—we could have prepared better.”
“Or we would have prepared too little, going according to the knowledge you have from an alternate timeline in which things, I’m sure, were a little different,” Chiron said patiently. “No, we must be prepared for everything we can imagine instead of just one outcome. And we will do our best. None of them will go down without a fight.”
Percy rubbed his eyes as a headache assaulted him again, memories coming to the front of his mind, blurry and unidentifiable. “Neither will the enemy,” he said solemnly.
“Chiron!” a voice called.
They both turned to look in the direction it came from. Percy’s eyes widened a little at the sight of Annabeth floating in the air, her image flickering a little. She was standing next to a younger kid with black hair and dark eyes that looked almost haunted. He wore all dark, too, and had an aviator jacket. He reminded Percy of a ghost or a shadow.
Chiron blinked at the image and then smiled in relief. “Oh, my dear, it is good to see you’re okay,” he said. “You, too, Nico.”
Percy moved to stand next to Chiron, studying the little kid a little better. “Oh, so you’re Nico,” he said. The kid’s eyes focused on him immediately and then widened in surprise, like he wasn’t expecting to see Percy there. Considering he was with Annabeth right now, he was probably also close to young Percy, so his bafflement made sense. “Hey, Annabeth.”
“Percy?” Nico spluttered.
“He’s from the future,” Annabeth said shortly. “I’ll explain later. It’s not important right now.” Nico didn’t look like he agreed with her on that, but Annabeth just kept on talking, her voice grave. “We reached Daedalus’s workshop.”
“That’s good,” Chiron said.
Percy frowned as his headache intensified. “It’s not,” he blurted out. He pressed his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes tightly. A pair of eyes—ones that have seen too much, have lived for too long—sprang into his mind. “Quintus—he’s Daedalus. He was using an Automaton to stay alive, living inside it. Quintus was the fifth one. He was there… he was…” Percy whimpered as the feeling of disappointment and horror filled him. “He already gave the thread to Luke.”
“Percy…” Chiron said, sounding a little stunned.
Annabeth spoke up before he could continue, though. “Exactly. And then we got ambushed and… it was a whole thing. We managed to escape with his wings. Now Rachel and Percy are trying to get us a ride. We’re going to look for an entrance back to the Labyrinth to get to camp as soon as possible. But you should be prepared—Kronos’s army couldn’t move through the Labyrinth because Antaeus wouldn’t let them pass, but—”
“I killed him,” Percy completed the sentence. The pain seemed to split his head and blind him. He was pretty sure he was on his knees now, gasping for air. “I didn’t know he was in their way. I… I didn’t have a choice. I killed him and now Luke and the monsters are free to get to camp. He’s getting ready to attack right now—they just need… they need…”
His memories came to a stop, the headache receding as his mind cleared. His moment of clarity was gone, apparently. No more memories for poor Percy. He cursed in Ancient Greek and slammed his fist against the floor, tears filling his eyes from the pain or frustration—he couldn’t be bothered to determine which one. It didn’t matter, anyway.
For a moment it was silent. Then Annabeth said gently, “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” She sounded worried. “Percy, are you okay?”
He grunted but still forced himself to look up and at the images of Nico and Annabeth. “I’ll be fine.”
“Everyone here is already getting ready for an attack,” Chiron said, his eyes lingering on Percy as he made sure he really was all right before he focused back on Annabeth. “We’re going to be as ready as can be, but you should get back here as soon as possible. The more help we can get, the better.”
“We’re on it,” Annabeth promised. “You’ll, uh, let us know if they arrive, yeah?”
Percy managed a pained smile as he kept on rubbing the side of his head, the aftermath of the headache still lingering behind. “Sure.”
“Cool. Come on, Nico.”
Nico stared at Percy for a moment longer, his dark eyes shining like a little kid who just got an early Christmas present. Then he nodded at him once before following after Annabeth, his hand cutting through the image and making it flicker one last time and vanish.
A few minutes of silence filled the Big House. Percy remained on the floor, sitting on his knees, his eyes trained on the wall opposite him as he wondered why his memories were so unhelpful, to the point where they seemed to only bring him little pieces of knowledge about things that have already happened, instead of things that will happen and might actually help.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Chiron asked.
Percy set his jaw and stood up shakily. “I had better be. I have a really bad feeling about what’s about to happen.”
He couldn’t sleep that night. He kept on expecting to hear screaming campers running around in a panic, frantically escaping giant monsters and the Titan lord himself, with golden eyes and blond hair and a scar under his eye… Percy had no idea why this was the way he imagined Kronos would look like, but it felt important, for some reason.
The thing was, his gut feeling told him that the attack wouldn’t start yet. Not tonight. Still, it was hard to sleep when everyone was so tense, ready to fight off a hoard of blood-thirsty monsters. How could Percy close his eyes when he felt like he might wake up next time and find camp filled with bodies rather than living, breathing children of the gods?
Eventually, feeling too restless to stay in bed and not caring about the stupid curfew or the cleaning harpies, Percy slipped out of his bed and snuck outside. He made sure there was nobody around as he tiptoed toward Long Island Sound. He wanted to be near water. Water would soothe him. His father’s domain would surely make him feel better.
Luckily, nobody caught him on his way there. Percy slipped through the sand and listened to the sound of the waves hitting the shore as he watched the darkness spreading before him—gallons of water, all of them covering the mysterious, humongous kingdom that flourished under the surface. The oceans were such a large part of the planet… it was difficult for him to understand how he could be the son of someone with so much power.
Then the feeling that it wasn’t his first time pondering that question hit him and he bitterly sat down in the water, not caring that the waves licked around his body. He couldn’t get wet, anyway. He could feel the coolness of the water, their push and pull, but his clothes and skin and shoes remained perfectly dry.
“Wouldn’t a sleep be more useful right now?” someone said next to him.
Percy’s hand automatically went toward his sword before the voice registered. It was familiar. And not familiar in the I-should-know-this-voice-but-I-don’t way, but rather in the I-actually-have-met-this-person way.
Turning his head, Percy blinked at his father, Poseidon, just sitting next to him, looking exactly the same way he did in Percy’s dream. Maybe a little less tired. “Dad,” Percy muttered. Then his words registered in his brain. “I couldn’t sleep. Something bad’s going to happen. I just… know it.”
Poseidon nodded grimly. “Knowing the future is a heavy burden to carry. I must admit I was never envious of Apollo—I’d rather not know what kind of horrors await us all.” He looked at Percy with those sea-green eyes that somehow looked even wilder than Percy’s. “You have been brought here by me, right?”
Percy stared at him in confusion. “That’s what you told me, at least.”
“You must have talked with the god from your time. Me—I belong in this time period. My present son is currently underground, watching the fading of a god.”
Oh. This Poseidon wasn’t the same Poseidon from his dream, then. Why was he speaking to him instead of young Percy, then?
“Fading of a god?” Percy asked instead.
His dad didn’t answer, instead staring out at the dark water spread before them, pulling up higher toward the moon shining in the sky, glinting beautifully. Percy found himself staring upward, tracing the shapes of the stars. Some of the constellations he managed to recognize, his brain coming up with the names even though he didn’t remember learning them. Others he didn’t know the names of.
For a long moment he found himself staring at a particular constellation. One that made his eyes sting and his heart squeeze painfully, like it was mourning the death of someone Percy didn’t even remember. Normally, he wouldn’t have been able to recognize the shape of the constellation, but as he watched it, the knowledge that he was staring at the image of a girl running across the sky popped in his head.
He wondered what the name of the constellation was. Or why it felt so important, why it made him emotional.
“I’m glad to see you’re alive, Percy. It’s a great relief,” his dad said eventually, and he sounded sincere.
It kind of caught Percy unprepared, because he didn’t expect a god to care about him or his wellbeing all that much, no matter whether or not said god was his father. He was still a god, right? And even without his memories Percy had the feeling that, well, he and the gods weren’t getting along all that great. Hera, Ares… the list probably went on, beyond the single names he’s been told about.
“Oh, uh, thanks. I think,” Percy said awkwardly. He shifted a little, the water unsettling as he moved before they calmed back down. “Antaeus is your son, too, right?” Percy asked.
His dad nodded. “He is.” His voice was hard to decipher so Percy wasn’t sure what was going through his head.
“You’re probably not too thrilled about me killing him then, huh?” Percy chuckled uncomfortably. He half expected his dad to incinerate me on the spot, but the god just sighed, like he was more sad than upset. “I remember some of it. It was… I mean, I didn’t really have a choice. They held Annabeth and Rachel captive. It seemed like the only way to get out of it alive with the both of them.”
“I know,” his dad said.
“His arena—everything there… it was dedicated for you, right? He killed all those innocent creatures as a sacrifice for you. How could he—” Percy cut himself off. He didn’t know the god sitting next to him all that well—or maybe he did and just didn’t remember—but telling a god that his son was a monster because he killed so many others in his name… well, it felt like the wrong thing to say if you wanted to live to see the next day.
Poseidon bowed his head a little. Luckily, he didn’t look angry—just extremely depressed. The Sea God, Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses—depressed. It was so ridiculous that Percy nearly snorted.
“The children of the gods—or any other believers we may have—do a lot of things in our name that we don’t necessarily approve of. What goes on in that arena is not exactly my idea of a pleasant gift.”
“I can always buy you a colorful tie, if you want,” Percy said, mostly joking.
His dad smiled. “Try and make it match this,” he said, tugging at his shirt. Percy got the feeling he basically just promised to buy his father a tie. He hoped he would remember to do that at some point, too. “My children tend to get a lot of my traits, unfortunately,” the god said, his tone once again solemn.
Percy blinked at him. “And that’s a… bad thing?”
“The sea is unforgiving and cruel. It will take down the people in it if it so much as wishes to,” his dad said. “If you’ll bother reading the stories of the past, you’ll find that I was usually one of the more… temperamental gods. They say I cooled down with the eons, but this is still a part of my nature. As it is in you and in every single one of my children.”
A chill ran down Percy’s spine. “Gee, thanks.”
Poseidon still kept his gaze on the sea. “I always keep an eye on you, Percy. I don’t know what is to come in the future, but I’ve seen your past. I’ve seen my nature in you. You are hotheaded and impulsive. You’re just as hard to control as I am. But I believe your mother’s own nature made it so that these parts of you often show when you are offended for a friend, or feeling protective over someone that is important to you.” He finally looked at Percy, his eyes shining in an unnatural way that revealed his true nature. “And that, my son, makes all the difference in the world.”
“What?”
His dad smiled. He looked… proud. “Your datal flaw. Do you remember what it is?”
Percy furrowed his brows in concentration. Fatal flaw? He was pretty sure Annabeth had once told him what it was, but… probably not what his was. But someone else did tell him. He didn’t remember the scene. He didn’t remember her face. But her voice rang in his ears, as clear as day, like she was whispering the answer to him right now, as well.
“To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world,” Percy quoted. “Athena told me that, I think. She said my fatal flaw was personal loyalty.”
The proud expression on Poseidon’s face brightened. “Exactly.”
“I still don’t get it,” Percy said.
His dad put a hand on his shoulder and it sent a warm, fuzzy feeling through Percy’s body. He could almost see a blurry smile and feel the touch of a warm, callused, familiar hand on his forehead. Like an early memory—something so old, Percy probably shouldn’t have even remembered it. But he did.
“Think about it, Percy,” the god said and then, offering Percy one last smile, he turned into salt water and melted into the waves of Long Island Sound, leaving Percy alone, sitting in the water with the breeze caressing his cheeks and blowing his hair under the moonlight.
“Great,” he grumbled to himself. “I love it when people are being cryptic.”
“Percy?”
He turned around at the sound of the voice. They were all in the middle of preparing for battle next to the entrance of the Labyrinth and Percy was moving from one spot to the next, helping with everything he could as the feeling of anticipation and dread filled him. Chiron wasn’t there because he went out of the woods with a few of the Apollo kids to get young Percy, Annabeth and the others with them if they showed up in time for the fight.
Percy had the distinct feeling that they would, but things didn’t look too good, anyway.
Still, he was caught by surprise as he turned around and found a girl—from the Aphrodite cabin, he thought, and older than him—standing in front of him, fidgeting nervously with her hands like she wanted to say something that was eating her alive from the inside out, but she wasn’t sure whether it would be such a good idea.
He hasn’t talked to her even once since he returned to the past, but her name still popped into his head as he stared into her blue eyes. “Silena,” he said, the name coming out breathy and almost disbelieving. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like it. “What’s up?”
“I just… I wanted to—I mean, I figured I should—I wanted to ask you about—” She groaned and bit her bottom lip as she messed around with the straps of her armor. Like a lot of the Aphrodite kids, Silena looked absolutely beautiful, and it had nothing to do with the makeup she wore and more to do with just… natural beauty. But her eyes soon began to water and she whimpered, looking absolutely miserable. “I’m so, so sorry!”
Percy blinked at her. “Oh, um… for what?” he asked.
The uneasiness inside him stirred a little more. Silena. Silena was important. Something about her… something about her was important but Percy wasn’t sure what. All he knew was that he didn’t like it. But he also didn’t feel any sort of resentment toward the girl, so she couldn’t be a bad person, could she?
Silena covered her mouth with her hand and squeezed her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have believed him. I shouldn’t have agreed to it. I wish I could stop, but… but he said it’s helping!” She looked into his eyes again, looking miserable and broken. “Please, tell me I’m not the reason we lose. Tell me I didn’t condemn all of us.”
“I…” He stared at her, very confused, before he felt the need to reassure her rising in him. It was like his memories sent a messenger to let him know that even though he didn’t know the full story, he should behave a certain way. “It’s okay,” he said as gently as he could, feeling very awkward as Silena wrapped her arms around herself, drawing a few looks from nearby campers. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
It was such a vague thing to say and Percy wasn’t even sure if it was true, but he could tell it made Silena calm down a little. She sniffed a tiny bit and hiccupped once before offering him a tentative smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“It’s okay,” he repeated lamely. And then, just because it felt like the right thing to do, he added, “I forgive you.”
Silena smiled—wobbly and tearful—and then nodded, hugged him quickly (a move that seemed to embarrass both of them greatly) and walked away and back toward the other Aphrodite kids as her hand came up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Percy kept his eyes on her retreating back for a few moments and then turned around and went back to trying to help wherever he could.
He only stopped moving from place to place when he noticed Chiron. The centaur was walking ahead with a grim expression and his bow at the ready, young Percy following in his steps, looking around with wide eyes that took everything in as his shoulders hunched. It was almost sad to see the difference between him and the amnesiac who felt so used to getting ready for battle.
“It isn’t enough,” Chiron muttered as they both reached Percy and stopped walking, instead watching everyone else.
Young Percy looked like he wanted to protest but couldn’t as he looked around at everyone, taking in all that was going on in the clearing. He met the eyes of Percy in the end. He looked absolutely terrified of the implications of what was going to happen. To be fair, Percy himself was afraid, too. He was just doing a much better job at hiding it.
“You two will stay with me,” Chiron said. “When the fighting begins, I want you to wait until we know what we’re dealing with. You must go where we need most reinforcements.”
Percy frowned but didn’t say anything. He hated this plan. He wanted to be up front and help as much as possible—not wait to see who was lagging behind before jumping in to offer his assistance. He wasn’t a secret weapon—he was just like the rest of them. Better yet—he couldn’t get hurt, apparently. The mark of Achilles or something, right? Though… he hasn’t actually brought it up, yet, has he?
“I saw Kronos,” young Percy said, his voice a little shaky. “I looked straight into his eyes. It was Luke… but it wasn’t.”
Percy blinked furiously as that image of the blond guy with the scar across his face, his eyes glowing gold popped into his mind again. Kronos… in Luke’s body. Luke was a demigod, the son of Hermes, that was leading the enemy. And now… now he was leading it by giving his body to Kronos.
Gods, he felt a little sick, and for once he was glad his memories weren’t coming back to provide him with any more information about this situation.
“He had golden eyes, I would guess,” Chiron said. “And in his presence, time seemed to turn liquid.”
Nodding, young Percy looked at Chiron. “How could he take over a mortal body?”
“I do not know, Percy. Gods have assumed the shapes of mortals for ages, but to actually become one… to merge the divine form with the mortal. I don’t know how this could be done without Luke’s form turning to ashes.”
“Kronos said his body had been prepared.”
“I shudder to think what that means—”
“It means Luke dipped in the Styx,” Percy cut in.
The centaur turned to stare at him, his face stricken with horror as he gaped, clearly trying to come with a way to claim this couldn’t be the truth, but he couldn’t find anything that could counter this claim… since it was true. Percy knew that was it.
Luke had gone to the Underworld and bathed in the Styx… and then Percy must have followed his footsteps since, well, he needed a chance to fight someone whose skin was impenetrable. What better chances could he possibly get than to have his own iron skin?
And then suddenly Chiron’s gaze turned sharper and his eyes roamed up and down Percy’s body as if trying to spot something he hasn’t noticed so far. His piercing, old eyes suddenly reminded Percy that Chiron was the Chiron, the one who used to train heroes when the world was young. He’s seen it all before—he could probably understand the kid before him had the mark of Achilles, too.
“Oh, Percy… what did you do…” he said tiredly and ran a hand down his face.
“What’s going on?” young Percy asked, his eyes flitting from Chiron to Percy and back. “What does it mean, that Luke dipped in the Styx? And what did I do?”
Instead of giving a verbal reply, Percy drew Riptide out, uncapped the pen and then brought it down toward his midsection. Young Percy yelped and jumped back in alarm but Riptide just bounced off Percy’s skin harmlessly, leaving nothing more than a slash in his orange T-shirt.
Young Percy’s jaw dropped. “What the heck?”
Chiron didn’t reply. He just set his jaw and straightened up as the ground began to shake beneath their feet. Percy and young Percy met each other’s gazes for a moment before they both turned to stare at the entrance of the Labyrinth. Young Percy’s hand itched toward his pocket but he still didn’t draw out his pen. Percy himself held Anaklusmos up and narrowed his eyes.
And then the Titan lord’s army exploded from the Labyrinth.
Yeah, no, Percy didn’t wait for Chiron to tell him when to join the fight. He joined it the moment he saw the army pouring out. His body just sort of went into battle mode—something a teenager shouldn’t have engrained into his bones, yet Percy still did—and he threw himself into the fight, slashing and stabbing and slicing with Riptide until his movements looked like blurs even to his own eyes.
He slashed through the monsters relentlessly, killing every single one that was in his path, but there were so many of them and they attacked all of the campers around him. He saw some of the struggling campers—ones that he remembered being associated in his brain with the feeling of grief—and he tried to reach them, help them, but it was all too much. He couldn’t be everywhere at once. He could only do his best.
At some point Annabeth joined the fight as well. Fighting off along with other campers was young Percy. He wasn’t moving as quickly as Percy did, but he was still doing well. Probably his natural skill, without the mark of Achilles helping him. So Percy was cheating—so what? So was Kronos, apparently.
For a strange moment, both Percy’s called out to Nico so he would block the dracaenae from reaching camp like they were clearly trying to do. It was weird to scream out the same thing someone with the same exact voice was screaming, but Percy got over it quickly and went right back to fighting, leaving the snake women to Nico.
He stabbed a telekhine between the eyes, beheaded a Laistrygonian (that was something he wasn’t sure how he even managed to do considering the height of that thing,) sliced through a hellhound and killed another one before he could get too close to the body of a camper on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood.
Percy tried not to look at it for too long.
“Percy!” someone cried out.
He turned toward the voice and saw fire burning through the forest, clinging to bushes and trees and flowers as it began to spread. Closer to the fire, young Percy stared at the scene, his eyes lingering on a satyr playing his reed pipes—Grover, if Percy wasn’t mistaken—next to a frantic nymph that tried to take the fire out. It wasn’t enough to stop the fire.
Young Percy started sprinting in the direction of the fire, weaving his way between everything in his path. “Help me!” he called over his shoulder and Percy got the distinct feeling that he was talking to him. “Water in the creek half a mile away!”
Percy ducked underneath the spear of a dracaena and rushed her with his sword before he concentrated hard on trying to spot the source of water far away from them. It wasn’t hard—it kind of felt like he was activating a muscle that hasn’t been used in a while but was still in fairly good condition. There was a tug in his gut and a wave roaring in his ears as he willed the water to spring out of the creek and toward the fire.
Maybe it was easier because young Percy was concentrating on the same thing.
Soon enough, a wall of water crossed the forest and took out the fire before it could spread too much. Also, Percy noticed, everything in the path of the water, including Grover and the nymph, got soaked to the bone. He heard Grover thanking young Percy behind him, but he was already turning away to get back to the fight.
And then a shriek echoed around them all and Percy’s blood ran cold as a chilling memory tried to come to the front of his mind, stopped by a blinding headache. He knew this voice. An ancient voice that belonged to a monster his mind just flat-out refused to remember. A monster so strong that Percy’s sword hand fell nimbly by his side, already giving up.
“Di immortales!” Chiron yelled as Percy numbly stared up at the monster, campers running all around him to try and get the heck away from her.
Kampê, the name sprang to his mind. It didn’t help with the alarms blaring off in his brain, warning him that this was way too much. She looked hideous, but somehow it didn’t really surprise Percy. Maybe because he remembered her. Maybe because he just expected something as horrific as her to show up after such a raw, bone-rattling shriek.
An arrow whizzed past the monster’s head as she moved quickly—faster than Percy would have assumed was possible for something like her. Someone was calling out for everyone to stay and fight and not run away, but it didn’t really seem to help too much as the terrified campers—most of them, at least—backed away from Kampê.
The monster leaped on top of the tent the Athena cabin had set up, smashing it to bits. Percy sincerely hoped there was nobody inside because he couldn’t see how they would ever survive anything like this. Well, if he wasn’t going to move any time soon, nobody will survive either way.
With great reluctance, Percy forced his body to run forward—toward the monster instead of away from her. His eyes briefly spotted young Percy and Annabeth running toward Kampê as well, their lips moving as they seemed to talk to each other, though he had no idea what they were saying. It didn’t matter, anyway. What mattered was Kampê and how they were probably all going to die fighting that thing.
All three of them attacked her at once, dancing around her to try and avoid her attacks while also trying unsuccessfully to land their own hits. Percy moved faster than the other two, caring less about his own safety and more about the fact that Kampê had to be taken care of. She was too powerful, too scary, too much of a menace. And if he couldn’t get hurt, then he could fight with less worries than anyone else.
Young Percy called out for help, but nobody came. They were all busy either fighting for their lives or being too terrified to move toward this certain battle. There were also a lot of injured campers all around, unable to fight even if they wanted to help in some way. Percy couldn’t blame them—he simply fought harder to try and actually hurt Kampê, but she managed to block every hit, or drive him away with her poison.
“Oof!”
A sword slammed harmlessly against Percy’s chest again and he looked around to try and see what had happened. His heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of young Percy and Annabeth on the ground, Kampê’s forelegs on their chests, the snakes there hissing down at them. Kampê raised her swords to strike them down.
He was going to die.
Annabeth was going to die—he couldn’t reach her in time.
A jolt went through Percy’s body, starting from a spot on his lower back and spreading over to the rest of his body. His limbs froze for just a split moment as he felt like his mind got assaulted by images and scenes from his past. Things he’s been trying to remember for days now, unsuccessfully.
Fighting the Minotaur in the rain, sorrow and anger filling him; jumping off the Gateway Arch toward the Mississippi river; fighting the god of war at the beach; playing dodgeball with Laistrygonian giants and a bunch of frantic, screaming and terrified kids running around; creating a bubble of air around Annabeth and him as she sobbed after hearing the Sirens’ song; welcoming Thalia back to the world after her time as a tree.
Almost fighting Artemis to try and jump off a cliff after Annabeth; asking the stupid god of wine for help against Dr. Thorn the Manticore and a bunch of his people; holding up the sky; watching with exasperation as Annabeth couldn’t just accept the fact that the Sphinx had simple questions to her instead of riddles; promising to plant a garden in Manhattan; arguing with Annabeth for the fiftieth time; burning shrouds with actual dead campers inside and mourning their loss.
Jumping off a burning ship as shame and guilt followed him into the water at the knowledge that Beckendorf was being left behind; being pulled out of the River Styx by a grinning, not real, Annabeth; going batsh*t crazy at the sight of Paul’s blue Prius so close to the battle, his parents asleep inside; giving Pandora’s box to Hestia and promising not to give up hope; trusting Annabeth’s judgement and giving Luke the knife; Declining immortality to get the gods to take an oath for their children (and definitely also because of Annabeth).
Kissing underwater; more kissing underwater; more kissing in general, really; spending their one month anniversary in France after, you know, nearly dying during a quest for a god; adding more cabins to Camp Half-Blood and going out on missions to find more demigods and bring them safely to camp; finally being able to spend time with his family and friends without the weight of the world on his shoulders…
And then waking up without his memories.
He blinked, slightly dazed, and then lowered his sword and instead of jumping in to fight, he whistled as loudly as he could.
A few monsters and campers turned to stare at him in mild surprise. One of them, Percy noted, was Kampê. He ignored them all and focused on the figure that sprang out of the Labyrinth at his call, instead.
Moving so fast she looked like nothing more than a blur, Percy watched as Mrs. O’Leary raced toward Kampê. The hellhound pounded into Kampê, knocking her aside and away from young Percy and Annabeth. From somewhere behind her, Daedalus’s voice praised the dog, the sound of clanging swords accompanying the words.
Then, just as Percy remembered, Briares joined the fight as well, attacking Kampê. Percy watched, slightly awed, as the fight around him played out. It felt surreal to relive it all again. It felt wrong to also see all of the bodies of demigods around him. A brief look around confirmed that he hasn’t saved the ones that had died in his time.
It made him stumble a little—all of this… and he felt like he just failed a second time.
No, his mind insisted. He could still change things.
“Ssssslay them!” a dracaena yelled at the army of the enemy. “Kill them all or Kronossss will flay you alive!”
“How about no?” Percy countered and immediately slashed through the dracaena. “Chiron, watch out!” he called out before even turning around. His eyes found his mentor moving out of the way of a giant at the head’s up, looking mildly surprised but also very relieved as he notched an arrow in his bow and aimed it at the monster.
Percy prepared himself to attack the closest giant that decided to try and attack again—because apparently Kronos was scarier than a bunch of livid, murderous campers—but before he could take another step, the familiar, wild call of Panic spread through the clearing.
Just like he remembered, Kronos’s remaining forces dropped their weapons and escaped, running for their lives in a mad rush.
Suddenly, everything was quiet except for the wounded campers that howled or cried out in pain as others moved between them, trying to offer help. Apollo kids moved all around, looking pale and exhausted, yet still willing to try and help. One of them approached Percy—Will Solace, he recalled—and asked him if he was okay.
“Yeah. Thanks, Will. I’m all right,” he said.
For a moment Will looked surprised, like he didn’t expect Percy to know his name. Then he nodded once and quickly moved on to a Demeter kid that was lying on the ground, moaning in agony.
Eyes roaming around, Percy cringed at the sight of the aftermath of the battle—he never wanted to relive this nightmare, yet here he was. And now he remembered the first time, too. He spotted young Percy and Annabeth getting up shakily, both of them looking worse for wear. They were holding hands and clinging to each other like this was the only thing holding them together right now.
This managed to bring a small smile to his face despite it all.
Then he crossed the way to the place he knew Nico was, borrowing some nectar from a passing camper. He found the kid on the ground, smoke curling off his clothes and his fingers clenched. The ground around him was filled with dead grass and plants.
“You’ll be okay,” Percy muttered to himself as he poured some nectar into the kid’s mouth. Nico’s eyes opened slowly as he coughed on the drink of the gods, its taste bringing him back to the land of the living. Or maybe it nearly choked him. Then he blinked at Percy with a put-out look. “Hey, Ghost King. You okay?”
His cheeks dusted pink from embarrassment but he managed to nod. “Never tried to summon so many before. I—I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will,” Percy said. He smiled at the kid and handed him the nectar so he could consume a little more. “I’ve seen it—you’re pretty amazing once you get some practice.”
Nico gaped at him. “Holy Hades, you really are from the future, aren’t you?”
Percy grinned and then noticed young Percy and Annabeth approaching as well, looking at Nico with worry. He almost pitied the younger version of himself who was still innocently trying to cling to the idea that Nico would maybe stay at camp. Plus, he had no resentment toward the son of Hades at this point in time since, you know, Nico hasn’t lured him to the Underworld and got him locked up there by his dad, yet.
“Hey, you okay?” young Percy asked.
Swallowing the nectar in his mouth, Nico nodded, looking down at his hands. “I’ll be fine.”
Percy nodded. “He’ll be fine,” he confirmed. Then he noticed Daedalus stepping closer to all of them and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll go look around, see if I can help anyone else,” he said and walked away before they could tell him otherwise.
They burned the shrouds of the ones that died that night and Percy felt restless as he watched it all from afar, unable to be present for all of this again. His insides twisted and squirmed as the names rolled around his head. Lee Fletcher, Castor, kids Percy never thought he’d get to see alive again, yet he did… and he couldn’t even appreciate that until they were already gone once more.
It felt like such a cruel thing to do to him—bring him back to regain his memories and then let him live through something as horrible as this battle only to remember all the important things a moment too late, when he could no longer change anything to make the future a little brighter.
His eyes scanned the crowd of mourning demigods that watched the burning shrouds, grief rolling off the group in massive waves. He spotted Clarisse standing amongst her brothers and sisters, head held high and eyes blazing. Michael Yue was there, too—still alive and kicking. He looked like he wanted to fight everyone who’d dare say the wrong thing around him.
Beckendorf was easy to spot—tall and bulky and looking a lot like a rock or an anchor you might cling to in the middle of a storm. Percy wanted to go over there and shake the guy, tell him he was going to die on an exploding ship, sacrificing himself to try and win a war before it could reach its peak only to slightly hold back the enemy in the end. He wanted to tell him not to go on that cruise ship with Percy.
His eyes glided over to the Aphrodite kids that stood together, tears running down their faces as a shroud of one of their siblings was being burnt. He spotted Silena between the rest of them immediately and she seemed to feel his eyes on her because she turned her head and looked around before their eyes met. She froze for a moment, eyes blowing wide with alarm.
Tell them, Percy mouthed at her.
She bit her bottom lip, swaying a little like she was going to faint at any moment. But then she hunched her shoulder and drew her eyebrows together as her eyes seemed to drift over the crowd of demigods around her, stopping only once she spotted Beckendorf amongst his own brothers and sisters.
When she turned back to look at Percy, she mouthed: Does he survive?
He just looked at her sadly until she broke the eye contact, her face seemingly paler than it was a moment later. For a few moments Percy watched her as she just stared down at her feet, her body completely still. Then she searched the faces of the campers again until she noticed young Percy standing next to Tyson, patting the Cyclops’ back as the big guy wept.
Silena pointed at young Percy and looked back at Percy, a question in her eyes. She didn’t move her lips, but Percy didn’t need her to, either. She was asking whether or not she should tell him about it—her being the spy—or someone else. Frankly, he wasn’t sure how he was going to react to it outside of the Battle of Manhattan, with Silena dying while trying to help them after all the information she’d given away.
For a moment he tried to imagine himself standing before the spy before things went catastrophically bad (and wasn’t it extremely depressing to think that this battle wasn’t the most catastrophic one they would have?) He would probably be a little caught off guard and defensive. Maybe upset that someone from camp was actually willing to help Luke and Kronos when they were threatening their home. During the Battle of Manhattan, Percy was so sure he was going to hate the spy from camp, after all.
But Silena’s explanation on top of her sacrifice made it clear she never meant to hurt anyone at camp. Her hands were tied from the moment she wanted to quit giving any more information to Luke only for the guy to threaten Beckendorf and tell her she was saving lives in some… very roundabout way.
Tell me everything, Percy replied eventually.
She paled a little more. You’ll kill me.
Percy shook his head at her and offered her a small smile. He might be upset with her, but he wasn’t going to kill her. Especially because he was certain Beckendorf would never let him touch her, even they weren’t even dating, yet.
I won’t, Percy mouthed and then let himself look back at the younger him who was now accompanied by Annabeth and Grover, as well. Grover kept on glancing nervously in Tyson’s direction and the Cyclops stilled a little at the satyr’s presence close by. Annabeth stopped next to young Percy, taking the hand that wasn’t resting comfortingly on Tyson’s back.
Okay, some things have changed. He wondered how it would affect the rest of the war—if it even will. He hoped he didn’t just bring on an alternate timeline in which the Titans won. That would be… embarrassing. But maybe he just managed to save a few of the campers that were supposed to die in the battle.
He was going to hope for the latter to be correct.
Percy spent the night lying in his bed, rubbing the third bead on his necklace—the one of the Labyrinth—and listening to the hushed conversation of Tyson, Annabeth and young Percy who all stayed at the Poseidon cabin, awake for most of the night as they talked about anything that had nothing to do with the Battle of the Labyrinth. They tried to get Percy to join them, but he said he wanted to sleep and they left him alone even though he was certain they knew he stayed awake right along with them.
He did entertain Tyson a little before that, enjoying the company of his brother, even if he wasn’t the one who’s been through all of the things Percy has. He was still Tyson, albeit a little younger. And the Cyclops was absolutely ecstatic to find out that he now had not one but two brothers at camp, even if they were technically the same person.
He had a dream that night—or a nightmare, more like it—of Annabeth lying in his bed in the Poseidon cabin, curled in on herself the same way she was the day he first came back in time, only this time he could tell she was older and she had a red coral strung on her leather necklace—the one he’d given her from his dad’s palace under the sea after they started dating.
It didn’t take him long to realize that she was sobbing like that because, once again, he was gone. Not dead—just gone.
The door of the cabin opened, revealing three teens Percy didn’t recognize at all—even with all of his memories restored. There was a guy with short, blond hair and a pale scar on his lip. He looked a little like a military man or something. Maybe it was his expression or his haircut or maybe his stance. He looked like someone was examining and judging his every step, for some reason.
Next to him stood a girl with an uneven haircut and a few braids here and there. She looked like she was going for a casual look, but something about her just stood out. She reminded Percy of Silena—beautiful without even trying. She looked a lot less stiff and stern than the guy next to her. Instead, she spotted Annabeth on the bed immediately and her lips tugged down, sympathy flashing in her eyes.
The third guy kind of looked like an elf, honestly. He was short, had pointy ears and Percy could imagine a pointy, jiggly hat resting on those wild, dark curls of his as he gave presents to kids while singing cheerful Christmas songs. Presents with bombs, though—the mad glint in his eyes made Percy want to make sure there was nothing explosive around him. Ever. His hands were fidgeting with a couple of bolts and other random items as he looked around uncomfortably, like he didn’t want to be there but had no other choice.
“Annabeth?” the girl said, walking toward the bed cautiously. “Annabeth, are you okay?”
Annabeth whimpered and sniffed.
“I think that was a negative,” said the elf. “Come on, Beauty Queen—why are we here? She obviously doesn’t want company.”
“Yes, she does. And if she doesn’t, I’m going to be here for her, anyway.”
“But did you have to drag us along?” the elf moaned.
The girl sent him a glare over her shoulder. “You’re her friend. Help her!” she hissed at him.
“I am helping. Did you miss the way I bust my—”
“Leo!” the girl tried to say.
“—trying to build a flying ship so we can pick her boyfriend up?” he continued. “Tell me, do you know how to build an awesome, comfortable, spacious, larger than life and peace-inducing warship?”
The blond guy dragged a hand down his face. “Guys, come on. This isn’t helping.”
“She just found out her boyfriend probably has no idea who she is,” the elf—Leo—said dryly. “If I were her, I think I wouldn’t have been too thrilled with the world, either.”
The girl sent him a death glare again and then bent down next to Percy’s bunk, putting a comforting hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “We’ll find him, Annabeth, I promise you. And if he doesn’t remember you, we’ll make him remember. Right, boys?”
Leo scrunched up his nose. “I don’t know… have you heard the stories about the guy? I don’t think we can make him do anything.”
The blond guy elbowed him and then smiled at the girl. “If he doesn’t remember, we’ll help him until he does.”
Annabeth sniffed again. Then she spoke up, her voice weak and shaky and utterly broken and terrified. It broke Percy’s heart to hear it, but he couldn’t do anything to help. “What if he likes it there?” she asked quietly, her voice barely carrying around the cabin. “What if he doesn’t want to leave with us? To come back? What if… what if we get there and he’s with someone else, like Jason and you?”
The three looked at each other uneasily. The blond and the girl looked especially awkward now.
“Then we knock out the Roman girlfriend and flee the country,” Leo said eventually.
Annabeth sat up instantly and glared at him, her eyes red. “I’m serious, Leo!”
“So am I,” he said, though he fidgeted even more now, under the intense glare of Annabeth’s gray eyes. “We’ll get there, to New Rome, and if we see the guy’s mind is still scrambled, we take him with us by force. We’ll make him remember his old, awesome life. I can be pretty convincing,” he added and flames started dancing above his fingers.
Percy stared at the fire for a moment, caught by surprise. And then he looked back at Annabeth. She stared at the fire, too, but her expression relaxed a little now, like she realized that even if this plan was crazy, at least there were people that were willing to help her.
I’m coming back, Percy promised wordlessly, staring intently at Annabeth as the girl next to her crushed her in a hug. The moment I can.
He blinked his eyes open and found himself standing on top of a familiar hill, staring at Stheno and Euryale the gorgons from Bargain Mart.
“—gorgon’s blood to these, so your death will be quick and painless,” Stheno said, continuing a sentence that Percy didn’t even remember the beginning of.
His eyes moved frantically from her, to her sister, and then to the tray Stheno was holding. Right, he was going to slide downhill on the tray. If only he could get it… and then escape these two and figure out what the heck to do next. His inner campus told him to go someplace that was literally beneath his feet. His heart and head told him to get a flight to New York—screw Zeus—and find Annabeth again.
He recalled his dad’s words. The god in his dream was very annoyed with Hera and he didn’t seem too supportive of her plan—whatever it was she had in mind as she pulled Percy away from his life and stole his memories from him—but he did also tell Percy that he was going to still have to try and make it work, didn’t he?
So… could Percy even leave California? He wanted to, for sure, but by the looks of it, at least the unnatural regenerating ability of monsters was messed up. Was he supposed to somehow fix that or something else before getting back to his life in New York?
He thought about the dream he just had of Annabeth crying in his cabin with three strangers there to comfort her. He had no idea who they were, but they all seemed to care about Annabeth—even that Leo guy that kind of unnerved Percy with that crazy grin of his and the fact that he was willing to kidnap Percy if that was ever required of him.
Leo had mentioned some kind of ship that they were going to use to get Percy back. So should Percy just stay where he was—go with Hera’s plan? Were these other three kids related to it? Probably, since there were no coincidences for demigods. If three new half-bloods arrived at camp when Percy was gone, it probably meant something. So moving out of California to try and get back might not be the best thing he could do… maybe…
Ugh, he needed more time to figure this out.
First escaping, though.
Then the words of the gorgon registered in his brain and he blinked at her. “You added your blood to the Cheese ‘n’ Wieners?” he asked in disbelief, bile rising in his throat.
“Just a little,” Stheno answered with a smile. “A tiny nick on my arm, but you’re sweet to be concerned.” He wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to be the idiot who would correct her on that, either. “Blood from our right side can cure anything, you know, but blood from our left side is deadly—”
“You dimwit!” Euryale snapped. “You’re not supposed to tell him that! He won’t eat the wieners if you tell him they’re poisoned!”
“He won’t?” Stheno asked innocently. “But I said it would be quick and painless.”
Gods, he almost missed dealing with the amnesia alone. At least then he wouldn’t have more dumb conversations from the past playing in his head along with this one, letting him know he somehow always stumbles upon the stupidest, weirdest monsters.
Oh, well. He needed to jump off a hill.
