Lumos

43 : Death's Here

Percy was slumped against the rough stones, hiding in an alcove in the western part of the castle. The sun was setting gracefully, a horde of crows followed it to paint a pretty picture.

She wasn't looking at it though. She faced the wall which she had been memorising with the pads of her fingertips for the last couple hours. Still as a statue, she sat in the wicked glint of a knife.

Six months was all it took for her to come back to this blade. As Christmas winter changed to summer, her grief dulled. It never left, only subdued to a heavy presence in the back of her mind.

It had been such wonderful six months, magical six months spent with her boyfriend. It brings a smile to her face to simply think the term and her blade sinks deeper beneath her skin, drawing the thinnest strip of blood.

She had been falling ever since she's had stepped into Hogwarts. Whether into the pit of dispair or love, it didn't matter. All it mattered to her sick mind was that she was falling.

It cares for her, she tells herself, her mind cares for her. That is why it had brought her to this alcove with the blade. It had done everything to protect her and when that failed, heal her by erasing and modifying memories, planting seeds of hope and switching off at times. When that hadn't worked too, it resorted to the last possible solution: a knife.

An end to her short, miserable life was all it would take for her to never wake up screaming again, to never check for daggers on her when she had to step out of her house and to never grieve another lost life. It would be so easy, so quick. If she were lucky, she could even end up in Elysium, reunite with Annabeth and pour every last apology she had chanted in her dreams to her dead friends. It would be peaceful, it would be wonderful and all she to do was to use the blade that she was taught to use to kill something in a hundred different ways.

Her lips twicthes upward as she strokes the blade, every last crack and flaw known to her by heart. It was a special knife, made from celestial bronze and had once been wielded by one of the greatest warriors of all time.

The knife that had belonged to Annabeth Chase.

She wonders what her dead lover would think witnessing this. Perhaps she would be angry to have not returned the knife to her after Bob had sent it to her at the last moment in the elevator or would she be horrified?

Years had been spent on this thought and it's a natural action for her to let the blade glide across the soft skin of her neck. The sigh that escapes her is that of a relief, soft as the flutter of the black butterfly's wings that rest on her hand holding onto the hilt.

"Perseus Jackson," A pleasantly low voice speaks from behind her. "Child of Poseidon."

"Thanatos," she greets back, equally quiet and with a touch of exhaustion. "God of the Dead."

Minutes pass and the scene remains paused. Percy understands the god's unspoken need and turns around to face him, internally grumbling about arrogant gods.

"What is it?" She doesn't bow. She wouldn't bow, the victories and sins she had gathered over the years had surpassed that of a god.

Thanatos appears as she remembers. Painfully breathtaking and temptingly sinful. His smirk shines as if they had the stars itself and the gold chains around his neck twinkle when he moves to sit beside her.

Percy would have rolled her eyes at the flourish of his black cloak if she had had the energy. "I thought Death came in the last moments, after a slideshow of our lives."

He smiles again, lounging on the stone of that of a model. "I do. But you've always been a special little snowflake, haven't you?"

A groan escapes, the earth rumbling the slightest in sync with it. "Let's cut the bullshit—" she turns to him, tapping into her last energy reserve of the month. "We have always known that when I die, it'll be from my own hands, don't we? So, how about we make this as easy as possible?"

"When has anything ever been easy with you, Perseus Jackson?"

She doesn't raise to the bait. The hero to never run from a fight has lost it all and had nothing for herself. Death heaves a heavy sigh, the sorrow of a thousand souls and the traces of tragedy lingers in the air.

"We didn't have much faith in you," The his confesses as a matter of fact. "your life was written to end at a very young age but no," the scrunch of his nose prompts the tiniest of smiles from her. "you defied the fates again, again and again."

"So," she interrupts the prolonged pause. "me finally giving in is the first time I've actually done what was destined of me? Guess I've lost my touch."

Death smiles, a secretive tilt of lips that somehow is arrogant and impressed simultaneously. "Oh no, you have not, Perseus."

Percy turns to face him fully, confused yet curious.

"Remember the tapestry?" She scowls.

"That was your doing?"

"Shh," a crow flies in to rest on his shoulder as he shushes her. "You were supposed to go crazy seeing that. Jump back into hell to fight the battle head on because you wouldn't have wanted to risk your newfound 'friends' but then you didn't."

"I'm not an idiot."

The crow seemed to mimic Death's blank stare.

"Okay, maybe I am an idiot."

"You are."

"And that's how it was supposed to end?" She leans forward.

"No, yes."

"Informative."

"Fate is a fickle friend," Death stares off into the distance, his inhumane eyes glinting in the moonlight. "And in your case, it's much more unpredictable. Who knows if a second trip in hell would have been enough to kill you?"

Percy thinks for the longest moment and raises her head to lock her unblinking gaze with his. "So, all long, it's been me?"

He stares right back, the crow cawing from its place. "I don't know. All I want you to know is that I've been waiting for so long," he leans forward, his teeth bared as that of a predator but she doesn't back down. "to have your soul, but," he leans away abruptly. "now is not the time. Perseus Jackson, you still have ways to go and your legend will not fade because of you."

"Will not or you won't let it?"

He laughs, a surprisingly pleasant sound that is sung right back by the owls. "I'm your friend, Perseus Jackson."

Although she wants to call bullshit at him, she couldn't. She knew it was true and it hurt worse. She deflates with a sigh, leaning back and hugging her knees to her chest. "I kinda started to believe that I would never come back here, you know?"

Death lets silence be his answer, stroking the crow upon his shoulder.

"My family's getting bigger," she continues with a wide smile. "camp has been good and I'm falling in love."

"You are disgusting," he comments at the blush that overtakes her cheeks.

Percy sticks her tongue out in return. The silence that follows stews between them as much as her thoughts.

"So, I gotta keep my streak? Baffle people by keep living?"

"Yes, Perseus."

She nods, her gaze on the blade. She runs her fingers over it once, twice and one last time before holding it out for Death to take. "Can you give this to her?"

"Okay." He pockets the knife, humming. "If it's any consolation, your life will be better."

Percy smiles genuinely for the first time that night. "It gets boring then?"

"Terribly. Nothing but some fire breathing empousai and flying pigs."

"Thanks, Death."

"Your kiss of Death will grace you when the time is right. Until then, try not to be disappointing. There is no bigger honour than reaping a well lived, well fought soul."