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ANNABETH
“Get down!”
Annabeth follows without question, throwing herself arms first into a bush as something heavy heaves into a nearby truck and turns it into metallic splinters. There’s screams, but they recede momentarily as her battle group rises again. She grimaces, watches in awe as another flaming rock is hurled over their heads, landing a hundred feet away into the side of a bakery. Mentally she scrambles for something, all her head comes up with is they have catapults, but it sounds more akin to oh, gods.
“Archers, target those crews!” She finds herself shouting, pointing down the narrow strip of street in front of her.
Several children of Apollo advance, notching arrows behind broken cars and letting them fly intermittently. They rain downwards, some impacting but others falling flat. She curses. At this rate, they won’t be able to hold the bridge for much longer. So much of this fight so far has been tactical retreats, wearing down an unbreakable army as fast as possible before the teenagers are broken themselves.
Metal crunches like glass around her. Catapult volleys crash around them as though they’re creating a furious storm of death on all sides. There’s a high scream that’s almost ghastly, and then a groan, and the top of a tenement building to her right disappears, bricks falling all around her as the base of the building shakes from the impact.
Where are you, you idiot?
They’ll never win at this rate. As much as she hates to admit it, as much as she wishes that swirling pride deep in her stomach and her heart would tell her that they can do it- the Greeks always do it. She can’t. That heaviness is outweighed by the weight of dread and contempt and an ugly black mass of nausea that she feels in her toes, in the way that her legs slightly buckle, behind her eye.
Miracles have happened, but as the Lord of Time marches towards his inevitable victory, it’s become even harder to plainly see something, anything, coming along to help their plight.
The street shudders, and just down the bridge she sees a flash of gold.
And her stomach sinks beyond her toes.
“He’s here!” She shouts, if anything just to confirm herself.
The other demigods with her freeze suddenly.
Eyes running around, bodies slightly shaking. She tries to think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. Grips her dagger harder in her hand, tries to think of anything.
“Michael!” She shouts, eyes roving the skyline.
The child of Apollo is beside her in an instant, eyes still slightly fearful and a little out of breath. His hands go to his quiver, pull out another arrow. He’s still in the fight.
“Take your archers and get into the tops of these buildings. We’ll create a funnel as they approach” She nods to the buildings around her, and Michael nods, turns to the archers, his orders coming out as only slightly shaken shouts.
“If they want a mile, we’ll feed it to them inch by inch!” She shouts to the group at large. “Archers, wait until you see the whites of their eyes. Everyone else, with me.” Turning around, she sees the black mass of bodies approaching them from across the bridge. “The Lord of Time is mine.”
The catapults cease. The wind whips around her. Destiny marches towards her.
You are Anna Elizabeth Chase. She reminds herself, a daughter of Athena. Favored daughter of Athena, actually. You are not a coward. You stand impossibly still against the raging darkness.
And you will meet your fate with a lion’s heart.
And so she does.
She stands in the middle of the street, just before the entrance to the bridge. New York sleeps around her, unaware of the quake of her boots or the anxiety in her stomach or the nausea behind her eyes or the courage that covers her to her toes.
The writhing mass stops halfway across the bridge, and he trots forwards on horseback.
Her heart lurches because her first thought is Luke! But she steels herself. It’s not Luke anymore. It’s a being that wants her, wants all of them dead. She simply cannot allow that.
“Daughter of wisdom.” The being inhabiting Luke states as he trots within shouting distance. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Her eyebrows furrow. Heart shudders. It’s not Luke. It’s not Luke. He left you. He betrayed you. And then, for a brief moment, Percy, please. Where are you?
“I would say pleasure to meet you, Kronos, but it’s really not.”
“How pitiful.” He sighs. “You’ll be bowing to me soon enough. He begged for your life, mortal. Wanted so badly for me to spare you.”
Her grip on the dagger is only reinforced. “I-” Her words shake. “I don’t care.”
“Oh, but you do, don’t you? You’re angry that the most powerful being in existence, has turned this boy into a monster.”
“I don’t care.” She repeats, gaining some sort of brimstone in her belly. “Luke chose his fate. It’s time for me to choose mine.”
“Too bad your fate will be cut so short. Your kind are being hunted and cut down as we speak. Your Gods will serve me on their knees. You will fall.”
Her mind races because no, no, no, this can’t be happening. It’s not happening. This is all a dream, you’re in the strawberry fields and Percy is laughing and his hand grazes yours and it’s so warm and-
She opens her eyes, and her shoulders groan. It’s not a dream.
“So, tell me, mortal,” He sneers, “Who now will stand against me?”
And to the West the storm rages towards them.
And dark clouds swirl against the otherwise clear sky, and she hears distant thunder crack against the whipping of the wind. The ground shudders under her, tremors making her lose her footing. The waves recede and crash, beating harder than before against the beach below. And she feels it. She feels light, feels a warmth filling the air so thickly that she knows only one person can provide it.
And her heart leaps.
Within the swirling mass, a shape is barely visible. She can make out wings flapping.
“It’s Percy!” She yells, and even saying it out loud lifts a weight off her back and her chest, and she can suddenly breathe so much easier.
Out of the corner of her eye, the Lord of Time doesn’t move.
Soon enough the storm overtakes them, the air becomes thicker and lighting cracks like a whip above them and the waves engulf the beach, battering the bridge supports.
His sea green eyes are the brightest she’s ever seen them. Celestial bronze glints against the darkness, an omen of what’s to come.
And he leaps.
Percy has always been beautiful to her, but even now he looks as though he’s a falling angel, descending from the heavens into this hell to help them in their plight.
Her boy has come.
And there’s no one else in the universe she wants more right now.
PERSEUS
He lands, sword first, feet thumping against the stone. The bridge shakes, teeters slightly. He feels good. Better than good, better than he ever has before. Some part of him thought he would shake right now, believing that he couldn’t do this.
Once again he holds the weight of the world upon himself, but his shoulders do not shudder. His knees do not buckle. He doesn’t feel anxiety roving within his depths. He carries it just as he carries the prophecy, just as he now carries the curse of the greatest heroes before him. Just as he was meant to.
Destiny stands tall, but he stands taller.
Silence save for the thunder and wind.
If he is to meet the fate of heroes, then let him meet it on his own terms.
“Hello, grandpa.”
The ugly bastard sneers. “Do not liken me to your ilk, boy.”
“Well, it is the truth, no matter how upset you get.”
Anger burns within him, rage red-hot and ready to be thrown. That tiny spot on his back approves, burns slightly as he grips his sword tighter. Yes, yes, yessss, it whispers alluringly, let your anger out, hero.
He turns, and his breath catches.
She looks truly divine. Her hair is a mess and her eyes have bags and she’s limping slightly but this is the most beautiful he’s ever seen her. Throat catches. This may be the last time he sees her. For a second, he drinks in her features, heart sinking with the realization that this may be it. “Get everyone back, including yourself. I’ll handle this.”
She laughs. “Bullshit, Jackson.”
“Annabeth, I’m serious.” He grits his teeth.
“And I’m not?” She rolls her eyes. “There’s no way I’m leaving you this time.”
This time.
Fire and ash, the smell of smoke and lava. The feeling of her lips against his for that brief moment. He thought he would die then, and surely he will now.
Watching as demigods move back down the street towards their rendezvous points. Turning again, Kronos points his golden scythe towards him. “Do you have my back, Annabeth?”
“Always.”
And he smiles against the coming darkness.
For his bronze armor bears the mark of the trident, his plume sea green. He knows that the wind does not howl with defeat today. Even with the odds against them, he will find a way. He always does, always has. If today is to be his last, let it be a shout into the ages.
Let it be so that no future demigod has to deal with what he has, never has to understand the confusion and fear and exhaustion and death that he has. Let it be that they have a guaranteed future, that they will live to adulthood and love and laugh and know happiness.
Kronos shouts, and the monsters charge.
Percy smiles.
The dread monster rises in the belly of him, in that little spot on his back too. Laughter spews from between his teeth. In this kingdom of carnage, amidst cracked streets of bodies and wind all of screams, there is a king, and his name is Perseus.
He hunches his shoulders, flicks his left wrist and his watch spins out into the circular shape of a shield. Up until now, his life has been a collection of little crystalline moments shattered by the destruction of an unending war, one hope after another dashed until he’s bled dry of any hope or faith or trust. Standing here now, with Annabeth at his back, he feels stronger than ever. For a minute, he closes his eyes and imagines what comes after this, other than his death.
Annabeth will get to live on. She’ll go to college and get her degree and become a famous architect. She’ll design that building that will stand against the ages. His mom will write her book and become a best selling author and never, never have to deal with a man like Gabe Ugliano again. He’s doing this for them, and for everyone else that will never know what he’s about to do.
Metal crunches and the bridge shudders and Percy opens his eyes, feeling the power in him. He feels the storm and the water and the tremor deep in his bones, like a little vibration, a constant ache, a little thrum that’s becoming a cacophony of nothing more than power. He reaches deeper into himself, into his chest, and brings the storm. Always more, needs to be stronger.
The clouds begin to batter. The earth begins to shake. The water rages up into the streets.
Let Achilles guide his wrath, let this curse give him the strength to save everyone.
The first hellhound nears, and his eyes flash and the storm pulses and the bridge shakes and he begins his dance.
His sword flashes, and the hellhound bursts into ash. Then another. Three more. It feels good. So, so good. Like a little scratch that he can’t get to but doesn’t want to stop. The first demigod reaches him, and he wishes that he didn’t have to fight them. The guilt in his heart almost overtakes him, because he knows this isn’t their fault, this isn’t what they wanted. But it isn’t what he wanted either. And they would kill him and his friends without thinking.
Another sin to add to his already heavy shoulders.
He slashes around them, flowing like a violent, turbulent river of swords and wrath as he strings the individuals together, ties them up into his little web of havoc. Slashes downwards, opens cuts and stabs and watches as blood flows like liquid gold. That hunger awakens in him, and he lets it free. The dread monster rears its ugly head. Let it, for now is not the time of mercy.
Annabeth shouts. A crowd surrounds her. Percy’s eyes flash and burn. Not today. Water rushes to meet him, strong currents pulled from the river below as it blows directly into his enemies, pushing and shoving them around. Three fall off the bridge. Two others charge him. What a mistake. They do well to last six seconds each against him, but not well enough.
Annabeth stares at him in awe. She knows. She has to know what he’s done to himself. Let her be angry later, he can sort that out then. Right now he has to focus on his job. His little acid bath wasn’t for nothing.
The Lord of Time scowls at him, and Percy welcomes his fate.
Destruction.