Walk With the Shadows [ Percy Jackson OC ]

TEN | Alex

NO AMOUNT OF IMMORTAL FEATHER DUSTING could repair Olympus. Kronos had sworn to tear it down brick by brick and as Alex strolled after the procession of the god of the Underworld, his son, and a ways behind, the angry daughter of Ares, he marveled at what Luke—Kronos— had achieved.

Everyone knew Hermes kids could pick pockets and locks. But for Alex, the greatest gift he had inherited from the god of thieves was stealth. To walk unnoticed amidst a crowd had aided him for years, whether sent forward as a scout by Luke in Capture the Flag or in service of Kronos.

When Hades arrived on Olympus with his son Nico at his right hand, Alex had hoped for some news of the battle. But all Ophelia could say was that Chiron had been wounded but was now stable, that Nico and Hades had summoned an army and saved the mortals, and that she needed to get back down there and look for something. She didn't say what it was and as Hades began making his way through the streets, Alex didn't push it.

Clarisse had the same idea. Still shivering from her fight with the Hyperborean, she had sheathed her sword and marched red-faced behind the god and Nico. Never one for subtlety, Alex steered clear of her.

Olympus lay in ruins. Along the main avenue, every statue had been split, often decapitated, by powerful swings of Kronos's terrible scythe. Trees lay uprooted in small courtyards. Torn tapestries tumbled about the streets as wind spirits began to clean up the rubble and ruins.

A beautiful lyre chord cut through the devastation. Settled on a fallen white column sat a young woman with honey brown hair crowned by a dark green laurel wreath. Tears flowed down her porcelain-white cheeks. With every strum of her black lyre, Alex felt pain settle in his chest. So agonizing became each breath that he stopped in his tracks.

Her blue eyes found his. She strummed another chord. Alex wanted to hide from her, but he couldn't. He knew who she was. Melpomene, one of Apollo's nine Muses. The Muse of Tragedy. He'd seen them in concert once.

From the ruins behind Melpomene, another woman stepped forward. Tan-skinned and with hair as black as night, she offered Alex a small smile before she, too, took up the song. Calliope. A rush of adrenaline cascaded through Alex from head to toe. He gripped his sheathed sword. The pain in his chest changed to a great lightness.

Strengthened by Calliope's spell, Alex turned away. Whatever words the Chief of the Muses had serenaded him with faded into his mind and he recalled only emotion as he continued on. But he had a job. He had a purpose.

Alex stopped looking at the carnage. He remembered why he'd left Kitty and Ophelia with the wounded. He had to find him. He had to know that Percy Jackson had fulfilled his prophecy and stopped Kronos.

He had to know Percy had avenged Luke. Alex remembered the last time he'd seen him. After the River Styx, his friend, his brother had never been the same. He'd been frantic, angry. With every demigod that entered that Maze and came out broken, or never returned, he'd begged Luke to stop.