The Spirits of the Universe (PJO)

Chapter 88--More Lies

I guess Eternity had never experienced the absolute joy of a flashbang directly to the retinas. Her massive, gaudy throne wobbled mid-air, screeching to a halt before it could flatten Aridne into a primordial pancake.

Then, it pivoted, pointing straight at me.

Bring it on. I wasn't about to be squashed like a bug on a windshield.

I held my ground. The giant death-chair hurtled toward me. Half a second before impact, I lunged at Thanakrys and struck the blade five times in rapid succession, triggering its frostbite defense mechanism.

Now, you're probably thinking: Percy, buddy, are you okay? What is turning down the thermostat going to do against a supersonic recliner made of indestructible godly metal?

And honestly? Fair question. It was a massive gamble. But ever since I'd first been hit by that specific debuff from the sword, this tiny, nagging shadow of a doubt had taken root in the back of my brain. It just hadn't felt like regular cold.

I knew cold. I'd almost gotten actual frostbite before. I knew the harsh, biting sting of ice, the way your fingers would turn into useless wooden blocks, the agonizing pins and needles when the warmth finally starts bleeding back into your skin. Real cold attacked your nerves—it fought you.

But the sensation Thanakrys gave off? It just had . . . erased me.

It had been a hollow, empty void seeping into my bones. My speech had turned thick and heavy, like my tongue had been made of lead. My heartbeat hadn't just slowed; it had felt like the space between each thump had been stretching out into infinity. My lungs had forgotten how to pull in air.

It hadn't been the temperature dropping, but the universe hitting the pause button on my existence.

Eternity hadn't been just throwing ice at me. She had literally tried to freeze me in time, slowing my atoms until everything ground to a terrifying, permanent halt.

The memory of that helplessness still made my chest tight and my hands shake. But right now, in this impossible fight where I was completely outmatched?

That terrifying, reality-bending cold was the only weapon I had left.

As I delivered that final strike and threw my body sideways, I couldn't resist a glance back.

The throne shrieked past my heel, the sheer wind of it nearly ripping my shoes off. Then, it hit the blast radius of Thanakrys's time-freeze. It stopped instantly. It didn't brake; it just ceased all forward momentum, freezing faster than Eternity could have ever commanded.

I was still sprawled on the floor. I braced for the end as the massive chair rotated to face me. Across the room, Eternity squeezed her fist, her face twisted in a vicious sneer.

The throne lunged.

And by lunged, I mean it crept forward with the top speed of a sedated tortoise.

Eternity's jaw actually dropped. She threw her arms up, dropping her glowing defensive forcefield to pour every ounce of her concentration into the throne. It stubbornly refused to break the speed limit of a crawling baby, trapped in the time-dilation field. But the magic wouldn't hold forever.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. A weird bubble of pride swelled in my chest. Look at me, doing physics and deductive reasoning in the middle of a death match. Take that, Athena cabin.

I scrambled to my feet. Keeping a very wide, very respectful distance from the slow-motion death chair, I sprinted straight for Eternity. Her shield was down—she was wide open.