The four reached the cabin shrouded in worried silence. Annabeth wracked her brain for any precedent, story or myth about someone powerful enough to rewrite the Oracle's words. Nothing came to mind, only an unsettling emptiness within her mind. Percy rushed up the stone steps toward the cabin his mother used to take him to. The same multicoloured glass arched the front door.
Percy went for the handle and the door creaked open under his touch. A radio crackled as it played the news: "Planes are cancelled as most of the country's airspace is experiencing violent seismic activity." Percy barely registered the words before the shrill whistle of a kettle sounded. Someone was home.
"Mom?" Percy called out. The cabin was awash with childhood memories. Blankets he had once burrowed into as a child draped the furniture. Pots and pans, seasoned by years of use, hung in their usual spots. The crackling fire at the centre of the room radiated warmth into his dripping clothes.
As he pivoted back toward the doorway, he remembered their reality. Annabeth and Grover were still outside, crouched beside Ciarda whose ankle was bleeding profusely. Annabeth's hands worked deftly as she tried to stop the bleeding with her handkerchief.
Ciarda's face was unnaturally pale, her lips pressed tightly together to suppress any sound of pain, though her trembling made her struggle clear. "We'll be in in a second," Grover called, wincing when Ciarda used his hand to squeeze out her discomfort.
Percy trundled over to the radio and flicked it off. "Quite something isn't it?" A smooth, chilling voice hummed from behind him. "Using earthquakes to clear the skies. Lord Poseidon grows bold in his war against his King," Alecto stood in the doorway with her arms folded. Fresh scars lined her arms, souvenirs from the last time Ciarda attacked her - the day they escaped Medusa's lair.
Then, Annabeth, Grover, and Ciarda limped through the door. Their steps faltered when their eyes locked onto the intruder. Ciarda summoned her sword with a flick of her wrist, the blade appearing in her hand like a whisper of gold. She raised it next to her face. "I have had the shittiest day, Alecto. Go home," She spat.
Alecto raised her hands, her expression unreadable. "Relax. I'm not here to fight you, Missy. I just came for my master's helm."
Percy's gaze darted to Ciarda, then to Annabeth, who held the helm protectively under her arm. "That's been your quest all along," He realised. Percy then walked to Annabeth and took the helm from her hands. He carried it to the table and dropped it with a resounding metallic thud. Alecto hesitated for a moment before slowly walking toward her prize.
"What are you doing?" Ciarda's voice cut through the silence. They could never get his mother back if they didn't have something Hades wanted in trade.
"Living up to my end of the bargain," He replied, his chords firm. He faced Alecto, who now cradled the helm in her hands. "Tell Hades I expect him to do the same." Alecto looked up at him expectantly. Ciarda, leaning on her sword for balance, jabbed Percy lightly in the side. "Manners, Fishsticks," She explained.
Percy exhaled, his jaw tightening. "Please," He added. Alecto inclined her head in a slow, deliberate bow. When she looked up, her lips curved. "Good luck on Olympus."
Ciarda cocked her head, keeping her sneer obvious. Alecto walked past them, to the door, but paused in the frame. Her scaley hand rose to her neck. From around it, she removed a thin chain, a dark vial hanging from the end of it. The liquid inside shimmered with purple hues. "Trust me, or don't," Alecto smiled as she tossed the vial toward Ciarda.
Instinctively, Ciarda caught it, her fingers curling tightly around the glass. "What is it?" She queried, looking down at it as she twisted it beneath her fingers.
"Something to show Hades' gratitude," Alecto replied before turning to Percy. "Perhaps there will still be a world for your mother to return to." Without waiting for a reply, she strode out the door and continued her way back to the Underworld.
"What does that mean? Good luck on Olympus—" Grover's voice trailed off, his wide eyes darting between Percy and Ciarda. Their guilty expressions answered his unfinished question. "Dude," He sighed. "No," Annabeth declared. But Percy and Ciarda spoke at the same time, their voices resolute. "I have to."
"What for? The quest failed. We missed the deadline!" She countered. She was sick of putting her friends in danger.
"This is bigger than the quest," Percy told her adamantly. "Before we set off on our quest, Chiron told me the last war on Olympus started World War Two down here. We have to get Zeus to call it off. The only way I can get his attention is to return the bolt."
Grover paced, needing his dog toy once more. "Percy, you don't want Zeus' attention!"
"We have to warn him about Kronos. Did you see how frightened Hades was at the idea of Kronos coming back? Zeus has to know, and Percy's right - bringing the bolt to him might be enough to get him to listen," Ciarda added to their argument.
"You two have to go to camp. Now that we know who Ares and Clarisse were working for, we need to warn Chiron," Ciarda swallowed down the name of her sister. She knew was the right thing to do, even if it hurt her. Every day for her entire life, Ciarda had always listened to her gut, and it had never failed.
Using that theory, Ciarda lowered her eyes to the vial in her hand and unscrewed the cap. "Wait, what are you doing?" Annabeth lunged forward. But before anyone could stop her, Ciarda tipped the glass to her lips and drank.
The disgustingly sour liquid burned her throat, the taste sharp and unpleasant. Annabeth grabbed the vial, it slipping from her hand and smashing against the floor. The remaining liquid sizzled against the floorboards and evaporated into curling tendrils of steam.
"How are you feeling?" Percy looked for any sign of trouble. "Fine," Ciarda replied, just as an intense sensation spread through her leg. Pins and needles weaved into her muscles violently.
When she looked down, Ciarda's jaw dropped. Her eyes watched the torn muscle in her leg begin to knit itself back together, sinews twisting and reattaching with startling precision. Bones snapped audibly into place, and tendons stretched and reformed with unnatural speed. Blood still coated her skin, but beneath it, her leg was whole again—flawless and unscarred.
"What the actual fuck?" Ciarda breathed, staring in disbelief.
The others watched in stunned silence until Ciarda finally broke it with a wry grin. "I was kind of looking forward to that scar."
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𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 | percy jackson
Adventure"do i look like i give a shit if he's poseidons son?" water from the fountain splashed into her face, dripping from the dark ends of her hair "the fact she's ares daughter means shit all to me" and soon enough percy jackson was scanning the room as...
