Praetor's legacy

Chapter 24

Percy always knew Octavian was insane.

He just didn't know how insane until it was too late.

The augur held his sacrificial knife in his left hand since his favored hand was covered in blood and oozing. Octavian was a descendent of Apollo, which meant that he had seen this coming.

And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.

The Roman augur and the Greek demigod were finally getting along. All it took was being backed into a corner together by a horde of bloodthirsty monsters to call a truce. The foes-turned-allies were hacking and slicing at all monsters within arms-length. More just kept coming. They were endless. Like the ocean they pushed and pulled and seemed to never stop flowing.

Octavian wondered if the Greek son of Poseidon sensed the irony.

Riptide had seen better days. Anaklusmos was covered in monster dust and had lost it's polished-looking gleam.

Perhaps it was a metaphor for Percy's body and spirit right now.

No matter how many monsters Percy and Octavian killed and sliced and chopped, they returned moments later. They spilled out of the Doors of Death like blood from an open wound.

This was one moment in Percy's life that he couldn't find a bright side to the situation.

The ever-optimistic son of Poseidon was losing hope.

He squared his sore shoulders and eyed the horde of monsters coming his way.

It was time.

The teddy-bear-sacrificing augur was ready to perform an actual sacrifice.

This time, actual blood was going to be spilled. No fake stuffing was in sight.

He dragged his sacrificial knife across his already-oozing palm. He hissed at the burning going through his injured hand.

Drops of blood fell to the earth like red tears.

Octavian raised his eyes to the Heavens and dropped the imperial gold knife that was passed through the many generations that came before him in his never-ending family line. It seemed that he was the end to the never-ending. Hopefully he was the end to the never-ending amount of monsters.

The bloodied palm was pressed flush against the ground. The blood moved as though it were running water. It moved straight towards the Doors of Death, parting the monsters like Moses parted the Red Sea.

Octavian shut his bright eyes. He was prepared. The augur was ready to die.

When the blood finally reached the ancient doors, Octavian dropped to the ground in a dead heap. The doors creaked and moaned and snapped shut. If Percy had blinked, he would have missed it. Octavian's head hit ground and his hand landed right on top of the sacrificial knife. All of the escaped monsters turned to dust before a shocked son of Poseidon's eyes.

The dust slowly falling to the ground could have been considered beautiful and snow-like to anyone besides the war veterans who's eyes had known and seen way too much for their young ages.

Rome and Greece let go of their held breaths.

It was finished.