Betrayed But Never Forgotten

He looked almost evil

Annabeth's Pov

When I heard that Percy was back from visiting his father, I was thrilled beyond words. My heart soared with anticipation—until the news crashed down that he'd collapsed the moment he arrived. My stomach twisted into knots of dread as I sprinted across the camp grounds, my feet barely touching the earth.

Charles had managed to catch Percy before he hit the floor—thank the gods for his reflexes—while he and Luke carefully laid him on his bunk. I burst through the cabin door, chest heaving, with Piper right behind me. The rest of our group was scattered throughout camp, oblivious to the crisis unfolding in Cabin Three.

Percy lay motionless on his bed, his skin unnaturally pale against the sea-green sheets. His breathing seemed steady enough, but something was terribly wrong. The air around him vibrated with an energy I'd never felt before—ancient, primordial, overwhelming.

"Do any of you guys feel that?" Piper's voice trembled slightly as she inched closer to Percy's bedside. "He feels... off. The whole vibe around him feels wrong—alien."

Now that she mentioned it, I could sense it too—a crushing pressure emanating from Percy's unconscious form. It felt disturbingly similar to the aura that surrounded Chaos himself—a cosmic weight that made reality bend slightly around him. The hairs on my arms stood on end as power rolled off him in invisible waves.

"You're right," Charles mumbled, his fingers hovering inches above Percy's chest, as if afraid to make contact. "He doesn't seem to be dead or hurt, but we should check—"

"Don't worry, the expert is here!" Luke interrupted with his typical bravado, drawing an irritated scowl from Charles. He reached confidently for Percy's wrist to check his pulse.What happened next occurred faster than thought.

Percy's hand shot up and clamped around Luke's wrist with inhuman strength. In a blur of motion, Luke was hurled across the room like a rag doll, crashing into the far wall with enough force to crack the wood paneling. Before any of us could process what was happening, an invisible force slammed into me—like being hit by a tidal wave—pinning me against the wall alongside Piper and Charles.

The pressure against my chest was excruciating, making it nearly impossible to breathe. My vision began to spot with black dots as my lungs struggled for air. Through watering eyes, I watched Luke groan and attempt to stand, only for a shadow to materialize before him.Percy—but not Percy as we knew him—pressed Luke against the wall, the legendary blade Nightmare pressed against his throat with enough pressure to draw a thin line of golden ichor. 

Percy's eyes were terrifying—clouded over with swirling galaxies and void-like darkness, completely inhuman. His stance was unnaturally perfect, like a predator poised for the kill. Power surged through the room, focused on him like he had become a black hole for divine energy.

For the first time since I'd known him, genuine fear flickered across Luke's face. His immortal blood trickled down his neck as Nightmare's edge bit deeper.

Then, like a switch had been flipped, Percy blinked. The cosmic void receded from his eyes, replaced by familiar sea-green. The crushing pressure lifted instantly, allowing us to collapse to the floor, gasping for breath. Percy backed away from Luke, lowering Nightmare with a trembling hand.

"Sorry about that," Percy rubbed his neck sheepishly, as though he'd merely stepped on someone's foot rather than nearly decapitated an immortal demigod.

"You almost killed me!" Luke exploded, throwing his hands up dramatically, though I noticed he kept his distance. A thin red line across his throat was already healing.

"Don't try touching me while I'm passed out next time," Percy shot back, a dangerous edge still lurking beneath his casual tone. His fingers tightened around Nightmare's hilt.

"Maybe don't—"

"Boys!" Piper shouted, her voice cutting through the tension. Both Percy and Luke turned toward us, seemingly remembering our presence for the first time.

"Percy, drop your sword. Nothing here will hurt you," Piper spoke, her words heavy with charmspeak, layered so thickly that even I felt compelled to nod in agreement. But Percy's grip didn't waver; not even a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.

"Wa—"

"That may work on lukie boy over here," Percy interrupted, pointing Nightmare's gleaming tip at Luke and casually deflecting Piper's charmspeak with a dismissive wave of his hand—like swatting aside an annoying fly. "But that doesn't work on Mr. Primordial over here."

The room went deadly silent as his words sank in.

"WAIT WHAT?" We all shouted in unison, the cabin walls practically vibrating with our collective shock.

In that moment of stunned silence, Luke—ever the impulsive one—unsheathed his celestial bronze dagger and, with immortal speed, sliced a deep gash across Percy's exposed forearm. Percy jerked back with a hiss, Nightmare clattering to the floor.

We all stared in horrified fascination as Percy's blood welled up from the wound—no longer crimson red, but brilliant, shimmering gold. Pure ichor—the blood of the gods—but somehow even more radiant, threaded with tiny motes of light that resembled distant stars.

"You little—!" Percy's furious exclamation was cut short by the sudden clang of swords from somewhere outside the cabin. His eyes narrowed dangerously, the air around him beginning to darken. "What if I was joking and you just killed me?! What would you have done then???"

Luke merely shrugged and flopped down onto his bed, though I noticed how his fingers remained tightly wrapped around his dagger. Percy rolled his eyes with exaggerated annoyance, but the temperature in the room dropped several degrees as he retrieved Nightmare and carefully placed it on his bedside table. The blade seemed to drink in the shadows around it, emitting a faint hum that made my teeth ache.

"Explain. Now." I demanded, summoning every ounce of courage I possessed to grab Percy by the ear—like I'd done a thousand times before—and drag him to the living room couch. He allowed himself to be led, though I felt something vast and ancient watching me through his eyes. The others followed cautiously, keeping a respectful distance.

As we settled into the worn couches of Cabin Three's living area, tension crackled in the air like electricity before a storm. Percy took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as if carrying an invisible burden. The wound on his arm had already closed completely, leaving only a smear of golden ichor that gleamed with cosmic light.

"So," he began, his voice simultaneously both Percy's and somehow older, deeper—as if multiple voices were speaking through him. "Dad's gone missing. The universe started falling apart. 

Someone had to step up, and, well..." He gestured to himself with a half-hearted smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Turns out being the son of Chaos comes with certain... succession protocols."

As Percy's tale unfolded—each word more unbelievable than the last—I felt a complex mixture of emotions wash over me: shock at the transformation of our friend into something beyond comprehension; pride that he'd accepted this burden to save countless lives; but mostly, a gnawing, paralyzing anxiety about what this meant for our future.

Because one thing was abundantly clear as Percy's eyes occasionally flickered with the darkness between stars—our Percy might still be in there, but what had returned to us was something far more ancient and dangerous than any of us were prepared to face.

When he finished speaking, none of us could find words. The Percy Jackson we knew—our friend, our leader, our anchor—had become Emperor of Creation itself. And somewhere out in the cosmos, a force called Order was gathering an army to tear everything apart.

"So," Percy concluded with forced lightness that couldn't mask the weight of destiny now crushing down upon him, "who's up for helping me save the entire universe?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Until, behind us, the cabin door creaked open.