Percy Jackson: New Age

"When the Greek gods descended onto the battlefield, they did not seek order or peace, but the roar of chaos. Every spear thrown and every death cry was a tribute to their own immortality, for in war, they made themselves eternal."

— Edith Hamilton —

Percy Jackson ducked, his nose just inches away from Clarisse La Rue's spear. The daughter of Ares towered at over six feet tall. His knees ached, despite the water he had poured over them before the fight. His lungs burned from four grueling hours of combat. Sweat dripped from his forehead, falling in beads onto the ground. But Percy didn't care about discomfort; all his focus was on defeating his opponent.

Having been a commander in five divine wars and triumphant in all of them, he had lost battles but won the wars, ensuring his lineage grew more prominent. The bloodlust of ancient Sparta was alive in him, just as it was in many other demigods. He swung his xiphos, its three-foot-long blade gleaming like a leaf, seeking the blood of Ares's progeny. Clarisse's teeth glinted savagely, stained red from the blows Percy had landed throughout their relentless duel. Fine threads of blood dripped as she dodged, pausing momentarily to reposition her body before launching into another ruthless assault. There was no doubt that both of them were giving their all in this brutal clash.

Sýgkrousis crackled furiously in her hands, while Anaklusmos flowed fluidly in Percy's, countering every strike from the daughter of Ares. It was a profound dialogue, one that only true Hellenes could truly appreciate. This deadly, elegant dance would also end the ignorant who dared to dismiss it. For anyone foolish enough to challenge a Hellene, their demise was their own doing…

— Hey, Percy!

Percy Jackson and Clarisse La Rue turned their heads abruptly, blinking rapidly to shake off the trance of battle. Slowly, they lowered their weapons, emitting growls of frustration at the interruption.

They stood in the sparring arena of Camp Half-Blood, nestled on the outskirts of Long Island, New York. Beneath the stormy opacity of the sky, rolling green hills and forest outcroppings stretched for miles in every direction. This divine sanctuary had no boundaries—none except the imagination of its guardians, Chiron and Lady Hestia.

The younger demigods saw this small paradise as a bastion of hope, but when Percy gazed upon the landscape, he saw something entirely different. This land, gifted by the gods to their children, was far removed from the one that had faded along his path from boyhood to manhood. In his mind's eye, Percy envisioned a rising Polis, ready to bring back the greatness of the past—a power that once brought the Persian Empire to its knees, dominated the Mediterranean for centuries, and etched itself into the minds of sages and satraps of the Western world. All the West had learned from their ancestors.

Back then, great demigods ruled the known world, promoting a different kind of Hellenic governance. Roman democracy, forgotten in darker years. Quarrels flared quickly across the ancient lands. There were no moral limits, only the survival of the fittest—but even so, there was a twisted form of compassion. The Taygetus Mountains loomed near the cities, serving as a refuge for the weak-minded and the deformed. A select few were trained to become the military, political, and social elite, rising above the remains of those deemed unworthy of life. Politics were absolute, in the hands of the strongest. Surrounded by their peers, such leaders guided their brothers and sisters to the eternal glory of serving Olympus, their weapons raised high, ready to end the lives of their enemies with greetings from Tartarus itself, while training new generations of bloodthirsty demigods.

In recent years, Percy Jackson had assumed the role of such a leader. He defended Olympus in the Battle of Manhattan, reclaimed the eagle of the Roman Legion from Alcyoneus, defeated Poseidon's Bane, the sons of Gaea, led Greek factions against Typhon's hordes, stood against the primordial army, and, finally, engaged in single combat with Tartarus himself for an entire week. The war was a brutal awakening for all demigods, revealing how complacent they had become over the years. It showed them the pain and suffering of war. And that pain, along with the survivors of the disaster, became the newly founded Hellenic League, where Percy Jackson served as its Archon Primigenius.

—Hey, Percy!

He snapped out of his reverie. He was a lean, twenty-two-year-old man with sea-green eyes. He heard the labored, uneven breaths of his sparring partner and noticed how wounded she had become during this morning's training session—deep cuts on her arms and heavy bruises on her exposed skin. He saw other campers training around them, blocking strikes from their partners and returning blows with precision. At the edge of the arena, he spotted the camp's hundred Greek-style tribute cabins, the open-air dining pavilion where they ate every day, and the Big House, home to Chiron and Lady Hestia. And then he saw Ellen Lou Blackwood waving her arms from the edge of the training grounds.

—The council! —she called, pointing toward the Big House.

Percy turned to the marble structure, its "golden" blue roof gleaming obnoxiously above the house's attic, hurting his eyes. He glanced at his wristwatch. Just in time. Around him, the campers looked on, intrigued. They didn't know the reason for the war council, though rumors had spread about why the Decatlion was meeting with the section leaders.

But Percy knew that calling it a war council was inappropriate and in poor taste. The meeting had been called out of a pressing need to find a solution to the mortal crisis emerging—a compulsive obsession with abducting defenseless demigods. The modern world was changing rapidly, and it often seemed like mortals believed in their ability to control forces they neither understood nor sought to understand—partly due to an education system riddled with destructive egocentric tendencies. It was an issue that needed discussion. This challenge Percy would face head-on, as Archon Primigenius of the new Hellenic League.

Percy began to leave the arena to meet his companion.

As he moved through the sparring pairs, Clarisse coughed beside him, spitting out the blood that had pooled in her mouth.

—Not bad, Prissy, not bad —she said, wiping her lips with her arm—. I'll be at the meeting in a few minutes.

Percy gave her a nod and replied:

—I'll see you later, Ram. —He turned to Lou—. Is everyone already gathered?

—Yes! —Lou replied. She was nearing twenty years old, wearing an orange camp shirt and blue denim shorts. She carried a dagger in her hand. Her flat, Greek-style sandals crunched the rocks beneath them as they walked toward the Big House.

—When I passed by the cabins earlier, I thought I saw Sonia talking to Malcolm, —Lou remarked, pointing at the cabins they left behind.

—She has —Percy said—. Sonia's taken quite a liking to him. Better that than her jumping at every shadow.

He explained that, over the last few days, the new camper from Athena's cabin had developed a keen interest in strategy, just like any other child of the goddess. She had passionately argued for the importance of "contingencies," coming up with the most creative and unique ones she could imagine. It was her way of feeling safer. After her experience in Starling, Percy couldn't blame her. She would always live with the shadow of her abduction. In the end, it was decided that Malcolm would take her under his wing, partly to keep her out of danger and partly to stop her from starting to build Greek Fire explosives.

—When Kayla brought her in, she was so nervous she even tried to attack some of Apollo's campers. The Hunters tried to take her to their camp to see if she'd adapt, but they sent her back when it became clear she didn't trust any of them. So Malcolm…

—Uh-huh —Lou nodded—. He's a bit of a bleeding heart. —She squinted at the offensive roof of the Big House and shook her head—. How long did it take him to earn her trust?

—Around sixty games, —Percy answered. When Lou looked surprised, he elaborated—: We measured time by how many chess games they played before she started to relax. We started three days ago, averaging ten games a day. By the time she finally talked to him, it was about sixty.

—Sixty-three, to be exact —Lacy interjected as she opened the door to the Big House. Percy couldn't help but smirk as Lou gawked at Lacy, who wore a traditional white chiton and Roman-style sandals laced up to her calves. She was eighteen and unnaturally beautiful, with chestnut hair cascading down in waves, adorned with small golden doves.

—Lacy keeps them grounded, —Percy said, ignoring Lou's blush at the daughter of Aphrodite—. She's good at looking after Athena's kids.

—How do you do it?

—Rewards, —Ellie replied—. And a little enchanted talk. —She stepped aside from the door, letting them in.

The air conditioning in the Big House was unnecessary, given that the temperature in Long Island in the fall was 7°C (45°F), but it felt refreshing after the morning workout. The house had several spacious rooms where Chiron and Lady Hestia resided, along with an attic that had once housed the Oracle's mummy before Rachel's arrival. There was also a trophy room and the war council chamber. The latter held a pocket dimension with a hundred seats for the representatives of all the cabins, as well as rainbow screens for communication with the other Hellenic League factions. The room smelled strongly of styrax.

Lou glanced nervously at the seats.

—I don't think I'm ready for this, —she admitted.

—You will be, —Lacy assured her—. You've already led an Enómotia during the Primordial Wars.

Lou Ellen Blackwood was a significant figure, primarily for her role in the defeat of the primordial god Erebus. Before that moment at Camp Half-Blood, barely anyone knew the name of Hecate's daughter. She was only mentioned in passing in the stories of the Athena Parthenos' arrival at the camp's borders. But now, she was considered one of the most prominent strategoi of the Hellenic Mora, a skilled sorceress and manipulator of the Mist.

As Percy headed to the front of the war room, Lacy guided Lou to her seat and left the room, giving space to the camp's leaders, who gathered to deliberate with the Roman leaders, the Deep Ones, the Hunters, and the Amazons of the West.

—Oh Iris, goddess of the rainbow, show me the Senate in New Rome! —Percy declared, glancing around as other leaders did the same with the Hunters, Amazons, and Deep Ones.

—This session is presided over by the first Archon Primigenius of the Hellenic League, —announced Colvis, the designated herald—. If you want our weapons, come and claim them; we wield them with the strength of Olympus and the glory of Elysium.

Everyone echoed the final phrase after the herald.

—And what threat demands the Hellenic League to convene once more? —asked Robert, gesturing through the rainbow screen of the Roman Senate toward Percy, who sat before the Greek leaders, all of them stiff as boards, awaiting his words.

—Mortal interference and the abduction of demigods and legacies worldwide, —Katie Gardner explained from Percy's right. —Satyrs have reported the disappearance of five demigods due to mortal interference. This led us to organize a raid to determine whether it was the work of better-organized monsters or meddlesome mortals. Now we know: mortals are abducting our children for their biological experiments.

—Biological experiments? —Robert repeated, his expression darkening.

—Specifically, experiments involving the exploration of the metagenic savage power, —Annabeth replied, projecting a hologram of data onto Robert's screen. She distributed similar data to the Hunters, Amazons, and Deep Ones, who reviewed its contents with furrowed brows. They made no comments but collectively growled their disapproval. Robert and the Senate stared at their screen in silence.

—Our preliminary research shows they are targeting young specimens with… potential, —Percy added. —Does the Senate agree that this issue warrants attention?

—Absolutely, —Robert answered after exchanging glances with his fellow senators. Percy gave him a nod, signaling the continuation of the discussion.

The first step was to summon the representative of Cabin Seven. Kayla stepped forward and recounted her solo mission in Starling City, detailing her findings and her clash with one of the mortal heroes. The camp's head healer fell silent, awaiting judgment from the Dome of Power.

Breaking the tense quiet, the High Pontiff, Jason, took the invitation to speak.

—Mortal beings are taking too many liberties, —Jason stated, his voice firm, cutting through the tension in the room.

Jason was a professor of Latin and Hellenic Culture at the University of New Rome and one of the primary military and religious leaders of the Hellenic League. Yet, he had never felt entirely comfortable with the political intrigue of the Dome of Power. He saw himself as a man destined to nurture the minds of demigods and legacies, knowing his crusade was just—to prevent the lesser gods from being forgotten and their power from disappearing. Jason had little patience for the senators, the political leaders, the cultural conservatives, or what he referred to as Strategos during Tea Time. He even took care to distance himself, both in attire and behavior, from the Strategos during Tea Time, even going so far as to hold his classes without the traditional toga.

Jason watched as Percy retrieved some papers from his lieutenant, Katie Gardiner. The daughter of Demeter shuffled through the documents before handing them to Percy, who read the contents carefully and then prepared to announce them to the chamber.

—You're probably wondering why this is important, —Percy began, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

The Amazon queen nodded in acknowledgment.

—There seems to be an information gap that only you, Grand Archon, appear to know, —she said, her tone respectful but curious.

—Well, —Percy began, —to get straight to the point, after consulting with Olympus and some of the most trusted gods, we've come to the conclusion that the ancient times are returning.

—The ancient times? —the Amazon queen echoed, frowning slightly.

—What do you know of the Savage Times? —Percy asked, his gaze piercing as he addressed the room.

Jason shrugged in response, his expression tinged with a hint of disdain.

—The Savage Times were years of constant massacre between demigods and the children of the first metahuman, Bandalo Savage. It was one of the bloodiest periods in our history, where demigods led the nascent metahuman race to near extinction. I know that our ancestors didn't end Savage's life; several of his children escaped, and his firstborn was taken as a war trophy by the first Hellenic leader. It's likely that we receive the name "Hellenic Cultures" from her.

—Do you know why the Hellenic coalition didn't end Savage's life?

—Of course, because the first metahuman developed advanced cellular regeneration that prevented his death.

—Have you ever wondered how good his regeneration is?

Jason shrugged:

—A time or two. It's a recurring topic in my classes. It's quite ambiguous, you know. And although the Roman records are very biased, they make you discern what is true and what is exaggeration. Why?

—Well, because Savage's regeneration is better than recorded; in fact, he's still alive this year. —The daughter handed it to Annabeth, and she projected it for everyone present, showing a comparative photo of a modern image with the drawings from the chronicles—. These are images rescued from a security camera inside Starling City during the week of the rescue. Notice anything strange in them? The image from the chronicles and the image… both are of the same person. There's no difference in their faces. —Percy pulled out more images—. It's the same, year after year. The search projects deployed recently place him as far back as the Industrial Revolution in London, in Berlin, Mongolia, or Italy. Each of his appearances is followed by a disaster. The presence of Savage is synonymous with great disasters, and unfortunately, each of them traces back to our constant inaction. We'd like to deal with this enemy made by demigods millennia ago.

Everyone skimmed through the information quickly. It made sense. And if it was true that an enemy of the demigods from the mortal spectrum of the world was loose, then it was a good time to strike, because all the Greek factions were once again unified under a single banner, and...

—And there are other problems —added Percy—. For example, why are demigods being kidnapped by mortal companies?

—The experiments?

—Yes. But how strange that these experiments are about the Savage genome of all things...

—We can make an educated guess —interrupted Cassie, lieutenant of Queen Hylla of the Amazons—. But what does that have to do with this?

—Because —Percy said—, over the past ten centuries, demigods have disappeared for this reason, Salem and the Inquisition, including many sudden attempts at genocide. Each of these cases traces back to Savage. Now he has the influence and power capable of breaking the balance forged by each of our generations.

—I understand —said Talia, lieutenant of Artemis.

—We all understand. Apparently, the first Hellenic League made a deal with Savage. The reward was obviously short-term; they didn't care about leaving future demigods to carry the weight of their decisions. There was no reason to believe that a particularly different mortal would be a problem millennia later. But back then, they were blinded by mortal idolatry, and their egos were as big as Olympus.

—Idiots —said the Roman pretor Frank Zhang, shaking his head in disbelief.

—What about the Justice League? —Leo Valdez asked—. I suppose Kayla's intervention caught their attention if Savage is loose and causing trouble for the demigods. It doesn't make sense to ally with their mortal enemies to limit their efforts.

—Not that simple —said Percy, frowning.

—We can't ally with mortals so freely because of their idealistic morals —added Piper McLean—. The League stands by its belief in rehabilitation, they don't kill their enemies, they just imprison them. We've already seen how effective that method is in their world, allying with them would be the equivalent of declaring our intention not to kill our enemies, plus handing over our military freedom to a giant bat with a god complex. The very idea of surrendering the greatest mythological army in the universe to a mortal honestly makes me sick.

There were murmurs of approval from all the screens, except for Percy, who only nodded:

—The reason I bring this up is —the Archon continued—, because according to the records, he's already killed more than a hundred thousand demigods.

—A hundred thousand?! —Jason asked, incredulously.

Annabeth handed him a new screen. It was a photocopy of the demigod records from the eleventh century, from the nascent Mongol Empire in Asia. It was written in order of birth, alongside the age at which they disappeared. In the bottom corner of the document, it read an average: AN ESTIMATED FIVE THOUSAND DEMIGODS PER CENTURY.

—As you can see —Percy nodded—, that explains a lot. The great scarcity of demigods, the instability between factions. And let's not forget the sudden fever for deforestation.

Percy Jackson observed the reactions of his peers in this meeting, and many of them were very angry. Their rage bubbled thick in their veins, and it was evident that the powers of several were getting out of control. His work, in the grand scheme of things, was done. Now it was up to his comrades to choose whether to face these shameless enemies. Now they had demigods eager for blood, exactly what they were looking for, and now they had it. The notion of war was so fascinating and addictive that Percy couldn't help but shiver —and the bodies he would inevitably create with his own hands— it felt strangely alluring in his mind. And Percy could see that many of his peers were just as thirsty, filled with rage, eager for death. As was characteristic of demigods, their battle instincts were strong.

—Is there any doubt? —Percy asked the entire audience.

—No.

—How do you propose to address this issue?

—Approach the Justice League, it would be better to contact the mortals through them.

Kayla nodded her head and added:

—We'll use the veterans —she said—. They have contacts and influence in the mortal world that can help us.

—And I don't think any of us wants to deal with another Reagan speech. —Percy's words sent shivers through the room—. It would be best to listen to their opinions and act based on their recommendations. And I dare say that right now, they have more experience with mortals than we do.

—When will we proceed with the strategy?

Percy pondered for a second on King Atlas of the Depths' question, his hands in front of his mouth.

—We can contact demigods and legacies living in the mortal world. After being in the dark during these five wars, they'll be more than willing to gut us if we don't ask for their help. We'll use less important demigods and legacies in the mortal world to keep the real heavyweights for the end. I suppose it would be best to start with Hodgins.

—Jack, Jack Hodgins? —the senators asked in unison.

—Yes, actually, he'd be a good start. He's an FBI consultant and a great entomologist and inventor. As the son of Mercury, he could escape easily. We don't want to reveal ourselves immediately, and the utmost prudence would be highly recommended.

Piper pulled out a sheet and placed it in Percy's hand:

—Do you mind?

—No, go ahead.

—Here's a list of recommended demigods and legacies for the first wave of negotiations. It will be sent in the next hour so you can choose the best lineup. It's recommended to have only three to prevent the League from feeling threatened.

—They were chosen based on their positions in the mortal world. Nothing too influential, but enough to send the right message.

—So, it's agreed we'll wait two days until the list is reviewed, and an internal decision is made.

—Yes —they all agreed.

—What about the missing demigods?

—We're considering the option of keeping an independent group to handle them.

—A hilota?

—No. I was thinking of proposing a Cryptia.

—Is the Hellenic League in favor?

—Yes —they answered in unison.

Percy nodded, making mental notes:

—That's all from my side. Does anyone have an additional point?

—Yes. —answered Thalia—, our Lady summons the Primordial Archon to the camp headquarters.

—Any reason? —Percy asked.

—Chloe; the young one doesn't want to lose contact with her savior and has asked our Lady for your entry without threat.

—Anything else related to the Hellenic League? —Percy asked, eyes rolling.

—Nothing at all —Katie replied.

—I understand —said Percy—. This session is in recess for twenty-four hours until the information is studied by all involved.

When everyone disconnected and the camp leaders left the room, only Percy and his trusted group remained. Katie Gardiner spoke up:

—I'll make sure to investigate our options.

Percy gave a nod of agreement:

—You should propose Dr. Brennan.

—The daughter of Athena? —Piper asked, leaning back in her seat.

She was idly swinging a leg in her Greek sandals. Disheveled, as always, but her otherworldly beauty still remained.

Percy nodded:

—Everyone has bad blood with the children of Athena, that'll make them dismiss her to gain support for Taylor.

—I'll have to look into it. But I think it could work. They know Katie was the most vocal against the children of Athena. I think they'll get the hint.

—And inform Amanda about this, she should be aware.

—Yes.

Percy gestured to Travis.

—I'll tell the witch —said the son of Hermes, visibly uncomfortable—. If necessary, I'll go personally to Bellred.

—For now, that's enough.

—Can we leave?

—Of course.

Percy nodded his head, quietly retreating to his cabin. To take a shower and relax from this important experience, and to mentally prepare himself for the visit to the Hunter's base camp. Even if his relationship with the goddess Artemis was one of the best, considering her tendency to castrate men for sport, he still had to watch his words in the presence of the goddess, lest she turn him into a guinea pig again.

—What a nuisance —Percy sighed.

No one knew what it was like to interact with the goddess. And they didn't understand what his "lucky" relationship with her —Percy snorted at the thought— really was. The "relationship" in question was one of the most complicated in the Greek world, especially when you thought the Hunters weren't actually trying to kill him on sight. That behavior was abnormally mild for Artemis' Hunters.

Everyone knew why they bought into it that way. But no one really knew what had happened to result in that outcome. If he compared them with the Hunters from the Tamalpais mission or the Battle of Manhattan, the differences were vast. And it all started with the Primordial Wars. The Hunters had defeated Ananke alone. The primordial goddess of the inevitable, if you were to believe the rumors, was a headache that left the military elite of the Hellenic League as a group of mentally disturbed girls. Once Percy was able to take time off the frontlines, and retreat to the infirmary —Ponto and Hemera were his personal headaches— he was able to talk with the Hunters. There wasn't much to share; each side was affected by their recent battles.

But Percy didn't have it so hard; for them, it seemed as if a shredder had passed through their brains. In the end, they opened up, spoke about their lives and dreams before the Hunt. They talked about the events that had put them under Artemis' care. The war was never mentioned; it wasn't necessary, and both he and the girls were grateful for that.

By the end of the war, there was a massive desertion among the Hunters. From the thirty they had, only six remained, who decided to break their oath in exchange for a mortal, ordinary life. The most brazen case, as Percy remembered, was that of the tracker Phoebe. She was a daughter of Ares from the 2nd century BC, raped by her stepfather, the king of Ithaca at the time, and fled when her own mother dismissed her feelings. The girl found refuge with the Hunt, where she served for years as an eternal maiden and became one of the most loyal of all the Hunters.

That was until after the Primordial Wars awards ceremony, where she asked as a reward to be exempted from her oath. Such an action would have been a severe humiliation for the virgin goddess... if Artemis herself hadn't cried and allowed her Huntress to leave. "Find your destiny, dear," the goddess had whispered, embracing Phoebe to the death. Worse still, when another twenty-three girls followed her example, the goddess' heart only broke more as she freed them from their vows.

Thankfully, by that point, Zeus had already been overthrown and Poseidon was the acting king. Otherwise, Percy doubted they would have been allowed to leave the Hunt with such martial experience under their belts: killing a primordial is no small feat. That same day, Artemis declared him welcomed into the Hunt, and no one seemed to oppose such a declaration. Percy often wondered if they had delegated him as a sacrifice to placate the virgin goddess; all those who knew about his situation looked at him with pity before thanking him for his services.

It was atrocious. Even cruel. It was negligence against his mental stability… But no action was taken to prevent the goddess from dragging him into long training sessions. The new recruits, who had unexpectedly joined the Hunt, were little demons, lively and animated in ways their predecessors had never been; and the girls who hadn't left were more permissive with men. So Percy was considered the sacrifice to appease the goddess who "hated men."

Artemis herself remained as strict as ever. But there were moments when the virgin goddess simply took on a melancholic tone when she saw a couple fooling around near her while visiting the camp; or, occasionally, she would go from being calm to extremely melancholic, and for that reason, she would request training with him to vent her unstable mood, without realizing the sharp edges of her Athenian silver daggers.

—Everything is so problematic —Percy said, entering cabin three. For a few seconds, he enjoyed the smell of the sea inside.

—What is so problematic for our six-time savior of Olympus? —a feminine voice asked from within.

—Not much —Percy admitted, recognizing the goddess Eris. Even if she was disguised as a particularly attractive Latina girl—. When you have to deal with the council in full, it doesn't take much to create a big problem. And I think you actually enjoy my misery, My Lady. —He began to undress to take a shower—. By the way, how true are the Savage Chronicles?

—It's nothing more than a beautiful representation of that war; Zeus wasn't really thrilled that a mortal surpassed the demigods, so he changed the chronicles as soon as that generation ended in the Underworld and prevented their souls from being summoned. If he had really paid attention, he would have known that Hades personally had many records of that event, very well preserved and very truthful, but his paranoia and tyranny blinded him. One could say that instead of addressing the problem, he just looked the other way until it disappeared. Some gods tried to make him hunt down the remnants of the Savage army to erase them from history. "They're just mortals" was his rehearsed response; he simply didn't care about those matters… if one wanted to be completely honest.

At the far end of the cabin, where Percy was preparing to take a shower, the son of Poseidon cursed in Ancient Greek; Eris gave him a toothy smile and continued:

—That was when each god began to play their part. Did you know that it was during those years that Pallas died?

With a dry sound, Percy cursed again.

—Of course, that's when Poseidon and Athena started preparing for the rebellion... and their romance —he said.

—Yes... It's also when Rhodes was born —Eris replied.

Percy walked across the cabin to the door at the opposite end. Eris said:

—Have you ever considered my proposal, dear Perseus? My champion, or Stygia's, or even Thanatos and Nemesis'?

—Not really. Why?

—I would consider that proposal, dear —Eris smiled more broadly.

—What do you mean? —Percy said, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

—I think you'll understand soon —Eris said, smiling—. The truth of the Primordial Wars will soon be revealed, and by that time, the dark gods want our most beloved demigod...

—Well, I know who I'd choose, and frankly, I'm not excited to be tied to any more gods than I already am.

—But that's the most exciting part of all... you already promote our domains with such intensity that it's insulting we didn't approach you sooner.

—That's not terrifying... at all.

—How dare you question our humble preferences? —despite her words, the goddess smiled with the satisfaction of a cat that just ate a canary.

—On principle.

—Doesn't it have to do with your beloved virgin goddess? —Eris asked.

—Don't bring her into this —Percy growled.

The son of Poseidon entered the bathroom without saying goodbye. Eris only watched him leave with a smile and felt the pleasant shiver of playing with her favorite demigod's mind. Eris stood up with the grace of a warrior and said goodbye to Perseus.

—One last thing —she said—. Artemis is in an internal crisis right now. You know, the consequences of Zeus' control over her.

Percy laughed darkly:

—Of course. No one came out unscathed from that can of worms.

Eris laughed melodically:

—I don't think you really understand. This will be interesting for you to answer: What happens to a goddess when she's forced into a domain that doesn't belong to her?

—Shit —Percy said, coming out of the bathroom with a loud crash, but the goddess was already gone.