it isn't until
someone dies
that people begin
to care.

•❅───✧❅ FIVE ❅✧───❅•

ANASTASIA TWIRLED THE black Stygian Iron arrow between her fingers. Her bow was already in her left hand, ready to be used if this parley went to shit. She walked leisurely beside the Titan Prometheus, who was adjusting the cuffs on his tuxedo, with an empousa demon with a black dress and flaming hair. She was latched onto the Titan's arm, so they looked more like a couple on the way to a fancy gala. Ethan was on her other side, a perpetual scowl present on his face. Behind them was a thirty-foot-tall giant with bright blue skin and icy gray hair — a Hyperborean, the giants of the north. (Usually, they were pretty peaceful, but it was good that they sided with Luke. The more help they got, the better they would be.) The giant held a huge white flag.

As they neared Heckscher Playground, Anastasia noticed Percy standing in the middle with his group. Anastasia glossed over a trembling Grover, her eyes narrowing on the huntress with her arms crossed. She had spiky black hair and a black leather jacket; Thalia wore a silver circlet on her head, which contrasted her skull earrings or her Death to Barbie T-shirt showing a little Barbie doll with an arrow through its head. The only part of her that felt familiar was her electric blue eyes. (Anastasia swore she had seen those eyes somewhere recently.)

Anastasia's eyes strayed from Thalia's to the gray eyes beside her. Anastasia's fingers nearly dropped the arrow at the sight of her. Annabeth Chase stood, a hand on her sheathed knife strapped to her side, glowering at their envoy. She was still as beautiful as last year, perhaps even more so now that Anastasia was seeing her up close. The streak of gray in her hair from holding the sky two years ago seemed much more prominent, connecting her to the boy with the sea in his veins. Her gray eyes still swirled with the world's burden and untold wisdom; Anastasia could spend forever staring into those eyes and uncovering its dark mysteries, like peeling the petals back to reveal the inside of the delicate flower. Her pink lips, soft and plump as Anastasia remembered it, were downturned into a frown. The sight of it made Anastasia frown.

"Percy Jackson," Prometheus started, stepping forward once they'd stopped in front of the group. "It's a great honor."

Anastasia tore her eyes away from Annabeth, who barely acknowledged her presence, and glanced at Percy. He was already staring at her with his green eyes, a question twinkling in his eyes. He looked better rested; whatever he saw from the dream of Rachel, he looked...optimistic almost.

The empousa hissed at him, baring her yellow-red stained fangs. Prometheus turned to her. "My dear, why don't you make yourself comfortable over there, eh?" He pointed to the park bench. She released his arm, still glaring at Percy, before drifting over to the bench.

Percy looked at Ethan next to him, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Hey, Ethan. You're looking good."

Anastasia snorted while Ethan glared at him.

"To business." Prometheus extended his hand. "I am Prometheus."

Percy's brows raised. "The fire-stealer guy? The chained-to-the-rock-with-the-vultures guy?"

Prometheus winced. He touched the scratches on his face. "Please, don't mention the vultures. But yes, I stole fire from the gods and gave it to your ancestors. In return, the ever merciful Zeus had me chained to a rock and tortured for all eternity."

"But —"

"How did I get free? Heracles did that, eons ago. So you see, I have a soft spot for heroes. Some of you can be quite civilized."

"Unlike the company you keep," Percy pointed out, side-eyeing Ethan. (Anastasia didn't know if she was included in this, but the thought still stung.)

"Oh, demons aren't so bad," Prometheus waved it away. "You just have to keep them well fed. Now, Percy Jackson, let us parley."

Prometheus gestured toward a picnic table, and they sat down in front of each other. Annabeth slid into the bench beside Percy while Thalia and Grove stood behind them. Anastasia gripped her bow tightly as she stood behind Prometheus next to Ethan.

The Hyperborean propped his white flag against a tree and began absently playing on the playground. He stepped on the monkey bars and crushed them, but he didn't seem angry. He just frowned and said, "Uh-oh." Then he stepped in the fountain and broke the concrete bowl in half: "Uh-oh." The water froze where his foot touched it. A bunch of stuffed animals hung from his belt.

Prometheus sat forward and laced his fingers. His face was the picture perfect of kind and wise, like he didn't want to fight in this war but he had to. "Percy, your position is weak. You know you can't stop another assault."

"We'll see."

"Percy," Prometheus sighed, "I'm the Titan of forethought. I know what's going to happen."

"Also the Titan of crafty counsel," Grover put in. "Emphasis on crafty."

Prometheus shrugged. "True enough, satyr. But I supported the gods in the last war. I told Kronos: 'You don't have the strength. You'll lose.' And I was right. So you see, I know how to pick the winning side. This time. I'm backing Kronos."

"Because Zeus chained you to a rock," Percy guessed.

"Partly, yes. I won't deny I want revenge. But that's not the only reason I'm supporting Kronos. It's the wisest choice. I'm here because I thought you might listen to reason." He drew a map on the table with his finger. Wherever he touched, golden lines appeared, glowing on the concrete. "This is Manhattan. We have armies here, here, here, and here. We know your numbers. We outnumber you twenty to one."

"Your spy has been keeping you posted," Percy guessed, his green eyes looking up from the map to Anastasia.

Prometheus smiled apologetically. "At any rate, our forces are growing daily. Tonight, Kronos will attack. You will be overwhelmed. You've fought bravely, but there's just no way you can hold all of Manhattan. You'll be forced to retreat to the Empire State Building. There you'll be destroyed. It will happen. I have seen this and so has Anastasia."

Anastasia furrowed her brows. She hadn't seen this. Why was Prometheus lying?

"Like you can believe the traitor," came Annabeth's bitter response. Anastasia couldn't help but wince. Her words, albeit true, were still sharp and serrated as it pierced Anastasia's heart.

"I won't let it happen," Percy interjected before Prometheus could open his mouth. He redirected the conversation back to its original track.

The Titan brushed a speck off his tux lapel. "Understand, Percy. You are refighting the Trojan War here. Patterns repeat themselves in history. They reappear just as monsters do. A great siege. Two armies. The only difference is, this time you are defending. You are Troy. And you know what happened to the Trojans, don't you?"

"So you're going to cram a wooden horse into the elevator at the Empire State Building?" Percy asked. "Good luck."

Prometheus smiled, and it was only now that Anastasia realized the Titan looked more like a monster than a civilized Titan when he smiled. "Troy was completely destroyed, Percy. You don't want that to happen here. Stand down, and New York will be spared. Your forces will be granted amnesty. I will personally assure your safety." He gestured to Anastasia. "The daughter of dreams will vouch for you. Let Kronos take Olympus. Who cares? Typhon will destroy the gods my way."

"Right," Percy said. "And I'm supposed to believe Kronos would spare the city."

"All he wants is Olympus," Prometheus promised. "The might of the gods is tied to their seats of power. You saw what happened to Poseidon once his undersea palace was attacked."

Percy winced.

"Yes," Prometheus said sadly. "I know that was hard for you. When Kronos destroys Olympus, the gods will fade. They will become so weak they will be easily defeated. Kronos would rather do this while Typhon has the Olympians distracted in the west. Much easier. Fewer lives lost. But make no mistake, the best you can do is slow us down. The day after tomorrow, Typhon arrives in New York, and you will have no chance at all. The gods and Mount Olympus will still be destroyed, but it will be much messier. Much, much worse for you and your city. Either way, the Titans will rule."

Anastasia's frown deepened. The way Prometheus was describing how they would win twisted something in her. Feelings she couldn't discern were stirring in her gut. It made her wonder what the world would look like after they had won. Would they even heal the world? They had to be saving it, right?

Thalia pounded her fist on the table. "I serve Artemis. The Hunters will fight to our last breath. Percy, Annabeth, you're not seriously going to listen to this slimeball, are you?"

Prometheus smiled his oily smile. "Your courage does you credit, Thalia Grace."

Thalia stiffened. "That's my mother's surname. I don't use it."

"As you wish," Prometheus said casually, but he had gotten under her skin. Continuing, the Titan said, "At any rate, you need not be my enemy. I have always been a helper of mankind."

"That's a load of Minotaur shit," Thalia sneered. "When mankind first sacrificed to the gods, you tricked them into giving you the best portion. You gave us fire to annoy the gods, not because you cared about us."

Anastasia raised her brows.

Prometheus shook his head. "You don't understand. I helped shape your nature."

A wiggling lump of clay appeared in his hands. He fashioned it into a little doll with legs and arms. The lump didn't have any eyes, but it groped around the table, stumbling over Prometheus's fingers.

"I have been whispering in man's ear since the beginning of your existence. I represent your curiosity, your sense of exploration, your inventiveness. Help me save you, Percy. Do this, and I will give mankind a new gift — a new revelation that will move you as far forward as fire did. You can't make that kind of advance under the gods. They would never allow it. But this could be a new golden age for you. Or..." He made a fist and smashed the clay man into a pancake. Annabeth winced.

The blue giant rumbled, "Uh-oh." Over at the park bench, the empousa bared her fangs in a smile.

"Percy, you know the Titans and their offspring are not all bad," Prometheus said. "You've met Calypso."

Annabeth glanced at Percy, furrowing her brows. His face burned red. "That's different."

"How? Much like me, she did nothing wrong, and yet she was exiled simply because she was Atlas's daughter."

Anastasia cleared her throat, shooting the Titan a sharp look. "We're not here to talk about your struggles. That is ancient history." She glanced at Percy and Annabeth, lingering on the latter for a few seconds longer. "We're here to come to a compromise between the two armies."

"She is right." Prometheus nodded. " We are not your enemies. Don't let the worst happen. We offer you peace."

Percy looked up at Ethan. "You must hate this."

"I don't know what you mean."

"If we took this deal, you wouldn't get revenge. You wouldn't get to kill us all. Isn't that what you want?"

His good eye flared. "All I want is respect, Jackson. The gods never gave me that. You wanted me to go to your stupid camp, spend my time crammed into the Hermes cabin because I'm not important? Not even recognized?"

"Your mom's the goddess of revenge," Percy tol Ethan. "We should respect that?"

"Nemesis stands for balance! When people have too much good luck, she tears them down."

"Which is why she took your eye?" Annabeth asked coldly.

"It was payment," he growled. Anastasia shot him a glare at his tone. "In exchange, she swore to me that one day I would tip the balance of power. I would bring the minor gods respect. An eye was a small price to pay."

     "Great mom." Percy snarked.

     "At least she keeps her word, unlike the Olympians." Ethan scowled at them. "She always pays her debts — good or evil."

     "Yeah," Percy nodded. "So I saved your life, and you repaid me by raising Kronos. That's fair."

     Ethan grabbed the hilt of his sword, and Anastasia gripped her bow. Unfortunately (but really fortunately), Prometheus stopped them.

     "Now, now," the Titan said. "We're on a diplomatic mission."

     Percy glanced at Anastasia. "I can't even talk to you. You're brainwashed."

     Anastasia took a step forward, her brows knitting together. "I'm not brainwashed. I've been shown a new perspective of life."

     "You're nothing but a traitor," Annabeth hissed, her eyes lined with silver tears. Anastasia stopped moving. It felt like every particle in her damned body had paused their motion; her breath was stolen by the passing wind. "I-We trusted you. You were our friend. But that meant nothing to you."

     "You're wrong," Anastasia shook her head. "I'm saving you. I —"

     "If you're saving us," Annabeth started, glaring at her, "then what happens if you win the war? Hmm? What happens to me?"

     "You'll be safe." Anastasia didn't understand why Annabeth was so adamant to prove her wrong. She was helping Annabeth. Why can't she see that? "Once we win, the world will be healed."

     "Healed from what?"

     "The gods!" Anastasia spat. The tips of her ears burned. "This cruelty that plagues the world. If the foolish gods didn't exist, then we would be at peace. Luke is going to save us. You have to trust him."

     Annabeth sniffed. "Trust him? Like when he told you about Beckenforf's demise?"

     Anastasia felt her heart plummet to the Underworld. She couldn't feel the cold air entering her lungs. All at once, she felt everything and nothing: her hands grew cold yet clammy; the blood drained from her face but it filled her ears; drowning on land, and yet she craved for liquid to fill her lungs — anything to feel alive.

     Then, all at once, it was quiet.

     "Wh-what?" Anastasia croaked. "Beckendorf's dead?"

     "A week ago," Annabeth brushed away the tear that spilled onto her cheek. "And a year ago, there was an attack on Camp. Lee Fletcher, Pollux, and so many more died. Did Luke tell you that too?"

     No! She was supposed to know about this! Why was Luke lying to her?

     Anastasia opened her mouth, but no noise came out. At her hesitance, Prometheus interrupted. "Enough." He glanced at Percy, studying him, before nodding. "It bothers you, Jackson, of what happened to Luke. Hestia didn't show you the full story. Perhaps if you understood."

     The Titan reached out.

     And some part of Anastasia wanted to grab Prometheus's arm and pull it away from Percy and Annabeth.

     Thalia cried a warning, but before Percy could react, Prometheus's index finger touched his forehead.

     After a few devastating seconds, the Titan pulled his hand away.

     "Percy?" Annabeth rested a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Are you...alright?"

     Prometheus nodded sympathetically. "Appalling, isn't it? The gods know what is to come, and yet they do nothing, even for their children. How long did it take for them to tell you your prophecy, Percy Jackson? Don't you think your father knows what will happen to you?"

     "Percy," Grover warned, "he's playing with your mind. Trying to make you angry."

     "Do you really blame your friend Luke?" the Titan persisted. "And what about you, Percy? Will you be controlled by your fate? Kronos offers you a much better deal."

     Percy clenched his fists on the table. "I'll give you a deal." He leaned forward. "Tell Kronos to call off his attack, leave Luke Castellan's body, and return to the pits of Tartarus. Then maybe I won't have to fucking destroy him."

     The empousa snarled. Her hair erupted in fresh flames, but Prometheus just sighed. "If you change your mind, I have a gift for you."

     A Greek vase appeared on the table. It was about three-feet-high and foot wide, glazed with black-and-white geometric designs. The ceramic lid was fastened with a leather harness.

     Pandora's Box.

    Grover whimpered when he saw it.

     Thalia gasped. "That's not —"

     "Yes," Prometheus said. "You recognize it."

     "That's Pandora's box," Annabeth whispered, her eyes fixed on the vase. "After Prometheus had stolen fire to the gods and was punished, Zeus wanted him to feel more pain for disobeying his orders. He and the other gods crafted a beautiful and curious woman, Pandora, and sent her to Epimetheus, Prometheus's younger brother. Epimetheus and Pandora wed, and as a wedding present, the gods sent the box filled with treacherous demons to Pandora and told her to never open. It was Pandora's unbridled curiosity that led her to open the box."

     "Excellent job, Miss Annabeth Chase," Prometheus said. Then he shook his head. "I don't know how this box business got started. It was never a box. It was a Pitos, a storage jar. I suppose Pandora's pithos doesn't have the same ring to it, but never mind that. Yes, she did open this jar, which contained most of the demons that now haunt mankind: fear, death, hunger, sickness."

     "Don't forget me," the empousa purred.

     "Indeed," Prometheus conceded. "The first empousa was also trapped in this jar, released by Pandora. But what I find curious about the story — Pandora always gets the blame. She is punished for being curious. The gods would have you believe that this is the lesson: mankind should not explore. They should not ask questions. They should do what they are told. Annabeth is correct: this jar was a trap designed by Zeus and the other gods. It was revenge on me and my entire family — my poor simple brother, Epimetheus, and his wife, Pandora. The gods had created her to open the jar. They were willing to punish the entire race of humanity along with us."

     Anastasia remembered the dream she watched along with Percy. Zeus had destroyed an entire hotel to eliminate two demigods — just because he was scared of the prophecy. He'd killed an innocent woman; did that not affect him? Was Hades any better? He had cursed the Oracle, dooming a young girl to a horrible fate. A fate that left her trapped in the attic of the Big House.

     The gods were powerful, but what good is it if they don't use it to heal the world? That's why the Titans are going to save the world from the gods' clutches.

     Why doesn't Annabeth understand that?

     Prometheus tapped the lid of Pandora's jar. "Only one spirit remained inside when Pandora opened it."

     "Hope." Percy breathed out.

     Prometheus looked pleased. "Very good, Percy. Elpus, 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." He slid the jar across the table. "I give you this as a reminder of what the gods are like. Keep Elpis, if you wish. But if you decide that you have seen enough destruction, enough futile suffering, then open the jar."

     Anastasia widened her eyes, turning her head to look at Prometheus.

     "Let Elpis go." Prometheus continued. "Give up Hope, and I will know that you are surrendering. I promise Kronos will be lenient. He will spare the survivors."

     Percy stared at the jar before growling, "I don't want the fucking thing."

     "Too late," Prometheus shrugged. "The gift is given. It cannot be taken back." He stood. The empousa came forward and slipped her arm through his.

     "Morrain!" Prometheus called to the blue giant. "We are leaving. Get your flag."

     "Uh-oh," the giant said.

     "We will see you soon, Percy Jackson," Prometheus promised. "One way or another." He looked down at Anastasia, who was doing her best to avoid his eyes. "Anastasia, I would advise speaking to the group now before the battle tonight. Do your best to get through to the son of Poseidon."

     Anastasia said nothing. Prometheus turned his back on her. Ethan gave them one last hateful look before he turned and began walking to catch up with Prometheus.

     "Did you find out who the spy is?" Percy asked after a moment of awkward silence.

     Anastasia sighed. "No. But I do know that Ethan and Alabaster know who the spy is."

     "Wait wait," Annabeth shook her head, drawing Anastasia's attention back to her. "What is going on?" She glared at Anastasia, who did her best to not flinch, and Percy. "Why is she helping us?"

"Because she helped me," Percy nodded at Anastasia. (She ignored the way her heart clenched at his small smile.) "She risked her life to give me the blood to survive the Styx and the antidote for Andy."

"So you just trust her?" Thalia scoffed, glaring at Anastasia. "After she betrayed everyone?"

Percy didn't answer her. Instead, he looked at Anastasia, his ocean eyes hardened. "What do you think about Pandora's box?"

Anastasia narrowed her eyes at him. "Whatever you do, do not open the jar." Her eyes slid to Annabeth. "Resist the temptation."

"I thought you wanted me to open it."

"Hope is important," Anastasia said, staring into Annabeth's swirling gray eyes, "It keeps us alive."

     DREAMS WERE CONFUSING to navigate. Imagine them as threads of life, death, and everything in between. Similar to the red thread in the Japanese legends, these dream threads each connect with a person in the living world. Power thrummed in the threads, cooing their gentle song of the ancient world and the prophetic future. They tell stories between the rough twine and the soft yarn, often conjoining the two in matrimony. Entangled with one another — creating knots not known to mortals and gods — in a way that is akin to the way lovers are intertwined. It was difficult to search amongst the strands to find one that speaks to the supposed hero in the stories; it was like searching for a strand of hay in a pile of needles.

     Fortunately, Anastasia had already come in contact with the thread she was looking for. She had entered the dream world for him, and once she had opened the blue door, the thread would always come to her if she called.

     The thread of Percy Jackson.

     His dream thread shined blue in the dark warehouse where Anastasia stood silently beside the golden throne of Luke. She tugged it gently, her face void of emotions. When she spotted the dream version of Percy standing in the corner, her lips twitched as she dropped the thread.

     He opened his mouth, but after Anastasia shook her head, he closed it. Percy, instead, looked around the warehouse, recognition flashing across his young features.

     There was a hole in the roof of the warehouse. Statues of terrified people stood frozen in midscream. In the snack bar area, the picnic tables have been moved aside.Where they were was where Medusa used to live; a pang of pity struck Anastasia's heart. Another soul condemned to a damned life because of the gods.

     Right between the soda dispenser and pretzel warmer stood a golden throne. Luke lounged on it, his scythe across his lap. He wore a faded pair of jeans and an old T-shirt, and with his brooding expression, Anastasia thought it made him look almost like himself — back when their only worries were climbing the lava walls and the war games.

     Ethan Nakamura opened the doors of the worn-down warehouse. Anastasia immediately noticed Luke's face contorting into a very inhuman smile, his silver scar stretching across his face. His golden eyes glowed.

     "Well, Nakamura," Luke tilted his head, still smiling. "What did you think of the diplomatic mission?"

     Ethan hesitated. "I'm sure Lord Prometheus is better suited to speak —"

     "But I asked you." Luke narrowed his golden eyes at Ethan, who shrank back.

     Ethan's good eye darted back and forth, noting the extra guards that stood around Luke. "I...I don't think Jackson will surrender. Ever."

     Kronos nodded. "Anything else you wanted to tell me?"

     "N-no, sir."

     "You look nervous, Ethan."

     "No, sir. It's just...I heard this was the lair of —"

     "Medusa?" Luke raised his brow. "Yes, quite true. Lovely place, eh? Unfortunately, Medusa hadn't re-formed since Jackson killed her, so you needn't worry about joining her collection. Besides, there are much more dangerous forces in this room."

     Luke looked over at a Laistrygonian giant who was munching noisily on some french fries. Luke waved his hand and the giant froze. A french fry hung suspended in midair halfway between his hand and his mouth.

     "Why turn them to stone," Luke asked, "when you can freeze time itself?"

     His golden eyes bored into Ethan's face. "Now, tell me one more thing. What happened last night on the Williamsburg Bridge?"

     Anastasia inhaled sharply. If Luke heard her, he didn't point it out. Instead, both of them (plus Percy) watched Ethan tremble. Beads of perspiration were popping up his forehead. "I...I don't know, sir."

     "Yes, you do." Luke rose from his seat. "When you attacked Jackson, something happened. Even if Anastasia yelled —" He shot her a look, and it took everything inside of her to not shudder at his gaze and pretend to be indifferent. "— something was not  quite right. The girl, Andromeda, jumped in your way."

     "She wanted to save him."

     "But he is invulnerable," Luke said quietly. "You saw that yourself."

     "I can't explain it. Maybe she forgot."

     "She forgot," Luke repeated. "Yes, that must've been it. 'Oh dear, I forgot my friend is invulnerable and took a knife for him. Oops!'" Luke scoffed. "Tell me, Ethan, where were you aiming when you stabbed at Jackson?"

     Ethan frowned. He clasped his hand as if he were holding a blade and mimed a thrust. "I'm not sure, sir. It all happened so fast. I wasn't aiming for any spot in particular."

    Luke's fingers tapped the blade of his scythe. "I see," he said in a chilly tone. "If your memory improves, I will expect —"

     Suddenly he winced. The giant in the corner unfroze and the french fry fell into his mouth. Luke stumbled backward and sank into his throne. Anastasia furrowed her brows, taking a step forward, but Luke held up his hand, making her stop in her tracks.

     "My lord?" Ethan started forward.

     "Shall we call Alabaster?" Anastasia proposed, still looking at Luke in wariness.

     "I —" Anastasia gasped, taking a step back, at the weak voice. For a moment, just a single moment, it sounded like Luke. Then his expression hardened. He raised his hand and flexed his fingers slowly as if forcing them to obey.

     "It is nothing," he said, his voice steely and cold again. "A minor discomfort."

     Ethan moistened his lips. "He's still fighting you, isn't he? Luke —"

     Anastasia's brows raised, her mouth ajar. She foolishly believed that Luke still retained his sanity when hosting the soul of Kronos. She believed that Luke was blessed by the Titan of Time. But now, her perception of this war was altered. This...this wasn't something she imagined happening. The feelings of guilt, shame, and anger she'd been feeling came rushing back to her, a fire raging inside of her, igniting every particle in her body.

     "Not in front of her!" Luke — no, Kronos — spat, a growl rumbling deep inside his throat. As if realizing his mistake, Kronos straightened. "Besides, it is nonsense. Repeat that lie, Nakamura, and I will cut out your tongue. The boy's soul has been crushed. I am simply adjusting to the limits of this form. It requires rest. It is annoying, but no more than a temporary inconvenience."

     "As...as you say, my lord."

     "You!" Kronos pointed his scythe at a dracaenae with green armor and a green crown. "Queen Sess, is it?"

     "Yesssss, my lord."

     "Is our little surprise ready to be unleashed?"

     The dracaenae queen bared her fangs. "Oh, yessss, my lord. Quite a lovely sssssurprissse."

     "Excellent," Kronos smiled his eerie smile. For the first time, Anastasia felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of his inhuman grin. "Tell my brother Hyperion to move our main force south into Central Park. The half-bloods will be in such disarray they will not be able to defend themselves. Go now, Ethan. Work on improving your memory. We will talk again when we have taken Manhattan."

     Ethan bowed and walked out of the warehouse.

     Anastasia waited for a few seconds before she spoke. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was cold, bar of any warmth she used to hold for him.

     "Tell you what?" Kronos turned his head to look at Anastasia. She refused to cower.

     "Why didn't you tell me about Beckendorf's death?" she snarled. Her fingers tingled with dangerous power that rose with every inhale and died with every exhale. "Or better yet, why didn't you tell me that we had a spy? I am your right hand! —"

     "Do not speak to me in that tone," Kronos rumbled, rising from his golden throne. He towered over her in Luke's body, and still, Anastasia refused to cower. "I did not tell you, little one, because there was no right time."

     Anastasia scoffed. "You're the Titan of Time."

     "Do not speak of things you do not understand." Kronos raised his hand, and Anastasia flinched.

     "Yes, my lord," she whispered quietly, clenching her fist to stop herself from trembling.

     Kronos did not seem to care. "If you wish to know, even after this, then I shall tell you. A couple days after you brought back the blood of the sea monster, Jackson and his friend, Beckendorf, blew up my ship — Princess Andromeda. I let it happen, of course, to distract them from Typhon and the gods. My spy had told me about it, preparing me for the wreckage."

     "Then who's the spy?"

     Kronos's raised hand stroked Anastasia's cheek, and she shivered. It felt like cold talons were raking up her spine. He grinned. "You know the spy. It's your friend." He leaned down to whisper the damned name in her ears.

     "Silena Beauregard."

     ANASTASIA'S HEART STOPPED. The explosions and the sound of war became a constant ringing noise in her ears. Her breath hitched. She surveyed the scene in front of her with widened eyes lined with silver tears.

     In the middle of Bryant Park, illuminated by the lights of the city blinking on at twilight, were her students from last year. They were grown now, looking more like traumatized teenagers rather than the innocent children she had the pleasure of teaching. There was little Ronan in the center, aiming perfectly at the empousa's open mouth. He did not cheer when the monster turned to dust. There was little Nate, though he was not little anymore, holding his bow with his back positioned perfectly straight. He did not cheer when the arrow found its mark. There was little Samantha, her gaze hardened, pulling the string of the bow so hard, Anastasia still heard the twang amid the war noises. She did not cheer when the monster cried its final cry. There were all of her students, with their perfect postures and stern gazes, fighting in a war that shouldn't even involve them in the first place.

     Anastasia stood there as more empousas scrambled over their dead sisters to reach her students. But they never faltered against the horde of monsters.

     She didn't know how long she stood there, watching them with her own bow dropped to her side. She knew that she had to make a move, but Anastasia couldn't raise her own bow against her former students.

     Anastasia watched until the empousas turned and fled. She watched them relax slightly, chests puffing out slightly with their breaths of relief. She watched them check each other for any wounds, and when they found none, they grinned. They were the perfect mix of archers, and if Anastasia and them were granted more time, she could've made her students the best archers.

     Their night, however, didn't end with the empousas. The howls of hellhounds pierced through their relief, and the child soldiers were back. Their glowing red eyes locked onto the small group and made their way to them. Her students raised their bows, but what good was Celestial Bronze arrows against a pack of hellhounds? They knew the answer and so did the hellhounds.

     Anastasia scowled. No. These hellhounds were not going to harm her students. She sprinted toward the group, unphased at the flying arrows. She gripped her bow tightly into her hand.

     A hellhound was nearing Samantha, baring its sharp canines. No matter how much she shot arrow after arrow at the beast, the hellhound was still advancing. Fortunately, Anastasia slid directly in front of Samantha, an arrow nocked into her bow and aimed at the beast's eyes.

     With a sharp inhale, she let go of the string.

     The arrow flew into the air, buzzing slightly. It pierced the hellhound's eyes, and it let out a pained whine, stumbling backwards until it disintegrated completely.

     "What?" Samantha breathed. "Why did...where did...huh?"

     Anastasia shook her head, smiling sadly at the young girl. "No time to talk now." She shot another Stygian arrow at the other hellhound sneaking its way to the group.

     When the others noticed her, there were glances of confusion, anger, and happiness aimed at her. She didn't mind them; Anastasia knew what it was like to be betrayed by a mentor and a close friend. She stood in the middle of the small circle, aiming above their heads and through the small spaces between the children.

     She kept spouting advice. "Nate, keep your chin up," or "Ronan, pull back your shoulder a bit," or even "Pull harder, Samantha." The kids listened to her, but even with her help, the hellhounds still managed to land some fatal bites.

     First was Aster, the youngest of the group.

     Next was Lee and Lo, the twins from the Apollo cabin.

     Third fell Karan, the boy with burn marks on his hands and a heart of gold.

     Then died Lucas, the boy who saw the moon and craved the sun.

     Fifth was Layla, the girl who wanted to find her father. Anastasia wondered if the little girl ever found him. Maybe it was a blessing if she never found him; that way, young Layla's father wouldn't lose his daughter for the second time.

     Then Samantha fell, and Anastasia felt her heart stutter. She was still young. She still had the world to see. The closest she got — Anastasia choked out a sob — was seeing the stars, inhaling the last moments of life.

     Nate and Ronan followed. They fell together. As they laid on the damp green grass, Anastasia felt the world still. The two boys looked at each other with a fondness she had the pleasure of knowing. Their fingers grazed each other.

     Anastasia fell to her knees. Loud sobs racked her frame. Surrounding the group was the pack of hellhounds turned into ash. The group made of children? They laid there, motionless, crimson decorating the grass.

     "We are...the ar-rows that annihilate the mon-sters." Samantha coughed before stilling. Anastasia recognized those words. She had told them the exact same thing when she was teaching them.

     "We are the arrows guiding our forces to the monsters tormenting innocents." Nate continued, his starry eyes locked onto Ronan's.

      His breathing stuttered just as Ronan finished with a small smile. "We aren't mourned; we're honored."

     Then it was quiet.

     It was then that Anastasia Nishant knew she made a mistake in choosing to side with Kronos.

"it's just a girl harmonizing with a fan."
ooh, so close. it's actually anastasia nishant standing in the middle of Bryant Park, surrounded by the dead bodies of the kids she taught when she was still at camp, and she finally understands that she's not saving the world. she's destroying it.
🫠🫠