061, love you boys 321 see ya
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲。
The bridge to Olympus was dissolving. They stepped out of the elevator onto the white marble walkway, and immediately cracks appeared at their feet.
"Jump!" Grover said, which was easy for him since he was part mountain goat.
He sprang to the next slab of stone while theirs tilted sickeningly.
"Gods, I hate heights!" Thalia yelled as she, Percy, and Annabeth leaped.
But Sylvie was in no shape for jumping. She stumbled and yelled, "Percy!"
Percy caught her hand as the pavement fell, crumbling into dust. For a second Sylvie thought she was going to pull them both over. Her feet dangled in the open air. Her hand started to slip until Percy was holding her only by her fingers. Then Annabeth, Gover, and Thalia grabbed Percy's legs, and Percy found extra strength. He was not going to let Sylvie fall.
Percy pulled her up and they lay together trembling on the pavement. Sylvie was quick to notice that they had their arms around each other, even after Sylvie was up and safe. Even after minutes passed and the quiet honed in on their heavy pants. Percy seemed to latch onto this touch, but Sylvie was hit with the reality of everything going around them. She tensed suddenly.
"Um, thanks," she muttered.
"Any time," he said. "For you."
"Keep moving!" Grover tugged Percy's shoulder. He and Sylvie untangled themselves and sprinted across the sky bridge as more stones disintegrated and fell into oblivion. The five made it to the edge of the mountain just as the final section collapsed.
Annabeth looked back at the elevator, which was now completely out of reach—a polished set of metal doors hanging in space, attached to nothing, six hundred stories above Manhattan.
"We're marooned," she said. "On our own."
"What's new?" Sylvie huffed dryly.
"Blah-ha-ha!" Grover said. "The connection between Olympus and America is dissolving. If it fails—"
"The gods won't move on to another country this time," Thalia said. "This will be the end of Olympus. The final end."
They ran through streets. Mansions were burning. Statues had been hacked down. Trees in the parks were blasted to splinters. It looked like someone had attacked the city with a giant Weedwacker—Hey! That was Thalia's nickname for Sylvie.
"Kronos's scythe," Percy said.
Or that.
They followed the winding path toward the palace of the gods. Sylvie didn't remember the road being so long. Maybe Kronos was making time go slower, or maybe it was just pain and dread slowing her down. The whole mountaintop was in ruins—so many beautiful buildings and gardens gone.
A few minor gods and nature spirits had tried to stop Kronos. What remained of them was strewn about the road: shattered armor, ripped clothing, swords and spears broken in half.
Somewhere ahead of them, Kronos's voice roared: "Brick by brick! That was my promise. Tear it down BRICK BY BRICK!"
A white marble temple with a gold dome suddenly exploded. The dome shot up like the lid of a teapot and shattered into a billion pieces, raining rubble over the city.
"That was a shrine to Artemis," Thalia grumbled. "He'll pay for that."
They were running under the marble archway with the huge statues of Zeus and Hera when the entire mountain groaned, rocking sideways like a boat in a storm.
"Look out!" Grover yelped. The archway crumbled. Sylvie looked up in time to see a twenty-ton scowling Hera topple over on them. Sylvie and Annabeth would've been flattened, but Thalia shoved them from behind and they landed just out of danger.
"Thalia!" Percy cried.
When the dust cleared and the mountain stopped rocking, they found Thalia still alive, but her legs were pinned under the statue.
They tried desperately to move it, but it would've taken several Cyclopes. When they tried to pull Thalia out from under it, she yelled in pain.
"I survive all those battles," she growled, "and I get defeated by a stupid chunk of rock!"
"It's Hera," Sylvie and Annabeth said in outrage. Annabeth continued, "She's had it in for me and Sylvie all year."
"Her statue would've killed us if you hadn't pushed us away," Sylvie said. "Thank you."
Thalia grimaced. "Well, don't just stand there! I'll be fine. Go!"
They didn't want to leave her, but Sylvie could hear Kronos laughing as he approached the hall of the gods. More buildings exploded.
"We'll be back," Percy promised.
"I'm not going anywhere," Thalia groaned.
A fireball erupted on the side of the mountain, right near the gates of the palace.
"We've got to run," Percy said. Sylvie and Grover groaned.
"I don't suppose you mean away," Grover murmured hopefully.
Percy sprinted toward the palace, Annabeth right behind him. Sylvie caught up, but not quickly, because she was so weak and drained it was hard to exert her energy in running.
"I was afraid of that," Grover sighed, and clip-clopped after them.
The doors of the palace were big enough to steer a cruise ship through, but they'd been ripped off their hinges and smashed like they weighed nothing. They had to climb over a huge pile of broken stone and twisted metal to get inside.
Kronos stood in the middle of the throne room, his arms wide, staring at the starry ceiling as if taking it all in. His laughter echoed loud in Sylvie's ears, a noise so terrible she almost wanted to give up completely.
"Finally!" he bellowed. "The Olympian Council—so proud and mighty. Which seat of power shall I destroy first?"
"Maybe my mother's," Eurydice offered. "Or Luke's father."
She stood to one side of Kronos, whilst Ethan Nakamura was on the other. Both of them were trying to stay out of the way of their master's scythe. The hearth was almost dead, just a few coals glowing deep in the ashes. Hestia was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Rachel. Sylvie hoped they were okay, but she'd seen so much destruction she was afraid to think about it. The Ophiotaurus swam in his water sphere in the far corner of the room, wisely not making a sound, but it wouldn't be long before Kronos noticed him.
Sylvie, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover stepped forward into the torchlight. Ethan saw them first.
"My lord," he warned.
Kronos turned and smiled through Luke's face. Except for the golden eyes, he looked just the same as he had six years ago when he'd treated Sylvie like his baby sister-in-law. Now, a little horribly, Sylvie thought about how she looked like him—their identical scars on the right side of their faces running like a straight cut.
Annabeth made a painful sound in the back of her throat, like someone had just sucker punched her.
"Shall I destroy you first, Jackson?" Kronos asked. "Is that the choice you will make—to fight me and die instead of bowing down? Prophecies never end well, you know."
"Luke would fight with a sword," Percy said. "Isn't that right, Eurydice? But I suppose you're too scared to say that. You know he doesn't have Luke's skill."
Kronos sneered and Eurydice stiffened. The eldest daughter of Demeter stepped forward to throttle Percy, but Kronos held out an arm. His scythe began to change, until he held Luke's old weapon, Backbiter, with its half-steel, half-celestial bronze blade.
Next to Sylvie, Annabeth gasped like she'd suddenly had an idea. "Percy, the blade!" She unsheathed her knife. "A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."
Sylvie didn't understand why Annabeth was reminding Percy of that prophecy line right now. It wasn't exactly a morale booster, especially when it just dawned on Sylvie that it was time for Percy's prophesied death. A sudden motivation and determination rushed through her, distracting Sylvie from her drowning feelings of pain. She was not going to let Percy die. She'd just gotten him.
Then Kronos raised his sword.
"Wait!" Sylvie yelled.
Kronos came at Percy like a whirlwind.
Percy dodged and slashed and rolled, but he was already looking exhausted. Ethan ducked to one side, trying to get behind Percy until Annabeth intercepted him. They started to fight, but Sylvie couldn't focus on how she was doing. There was a sword pointed at Sylvie's throat the moment she tried moving to help Percy or Annabeth.
"Eurydice," Sylvie spat, but her voice was feeble.
"I'm not letting you get in the way again," she said. "Not when I'm so close to getting what I want."
Sylvie laughed incredulously. Suddenly she didn't care there was a blade pressed against her throat and digging in. "This is what you want?" Angry tears brewed in her eyes. She got so mad that she threw Eurydice backwards with her two daggers. "The cause you're fighting for got Florian killed!"
Eurydice took another backing step, posture going slack.
"What?"
Now she cares? Now? She could break Sylvie's heart, stab her in the back, and call her hopelessly pathetic, but Eurydice wouldn't show any ounce of care until she heard about their brother?
"No," Eurydice shook her head. Her disdain returned. "You're lying. Florian isn't—"
"Don't you DARE say his name," Sylvie swung at her wildly, feeling so unstable that she couldn't help it. She sliced with her second dagger, "Look at what you've done, Eurydice!"
Sylvie didn't know what to gesture at, because so much had happened, but she figured the throne room as a whole was a good start. Even if what she really wanted to do was grab Eurydice's shoulders and force her to look at what mattered to Sylvie specifically—the scar running through her torso from Eurydice, the poisoning wound on Sylvie's shoulder, the dislocation of her arm, the new scar on Sylvie's face, the death of Florian, Kronos trying to kill the boy Sylvie loved. All of it.
"I didn't do shit!" Eurydice cried. She seemed so choked up over the news of Florian, but Eurydice didn't deserve to mourn. Sylvie wouldn't let her.
"Exactly!" Sylvie ran at her again, but Eurydice side-stepped so they just switched spots. "You just stood at his side and let this all happen!"
"And you're any better?!"
Eurydice swung her sword in an arc, but Sylvie just ducked. When she popped back up, she was even angrier.
"Yes!" she shouted. "It took me a long time to realize it, because you were stuck in my head, but YES! I've been saving everything I can and being the leader, because you abandoned us and forced me to!"
Eurydice's blade clanged against the two of Sylvie's until Sylvie parried the force away.
"You should be thanking me," Eurydice said.
"Thanking you?!"
"I told you that you could be great," Eurydice dodged Halcyon's trike. "You were weak, but I'm the one who showed you how to be better. Now you're great."
Sylvie didn't even want to fight anymore. She wanted to weep. She wanted to sob. She wanted to cry a river of tears and drown herself in it. All that Eurydice had put Sylvie through—this emotional and physical torture—was just a means to an end. Sylvie was nothing but a past mirage to Eurydice. She hated Sylvie because she hated herself. And Sylvie loathed Eurydice because she feared all she could become. They were nothing more than that.
Except—
"I'm your sister, Eurydice! I love you!" Sylvie mourned.
The pavement on Fifth Avenue shook because her emotions ran so rampant. It quaked at such a massive magnitude that everyone could feel it up on Olympus. Sylvie couldn't help it—It was like still, even now, Eurydice kept finding a way to say You're my sister, but you're not my responsibility. Not anymore. Still, even now, the two sentences were a constant ringing in Sylvie's ears. Eurydice haunted Sylvie even when Sylvie was looking her right in the face. Her treacherous, beguiling face.
Eurydice toppled over with the force of Sylvie's emotional earthquake. She was on the floor and Sylvie was standing over her, a mirror of their situation at Mount Tam. But Eurydice didn't have any outs this time. Sylvie wouldn't believe a facade. She wouldn't believe in anything Eurydice had to offer anymore.
Just one strike with one dagger, and Sylvie's torment would be over with.
"Nakamura!" Kronos groaned so fiercely that it took Sylvie's attention away. His hair was smoldered. His face was covered with electrical burns. He reached for his sword, but it was nowhere near. "Time to prove yourself. You know Jackson's secret weakness. Kill him, and you will have rewards beyond measure."
Sylvie's eyes darted around Olympus, desperately trying to piece together what had gone on amidst her distraction. Annabeth was slumped against the throne of her mother, unconscious and bleeding. Grover was trying to play music, and he used his magic to both make tiny roots creep up from the ground, and attempt to heal Annabeth. Percy looked fine, which meant he'd just overpowered Kronos, and now Kronos was desperate to take him out. Even if that meant on someone else's terms.
Then Sylvie was falling to the ground, slamming against the marble, and crying out in agony.
Her momentary change of focus granted Eurydice the oppurtinity to get free. Eurydice kicked out harshly, and Sylvie's feet slipped under the sleek floors. Halcyon accidentally clattered out of her hand. This time, it was Eurydice over Sylvie. This time, it was Eurydice's sword and Sylvie's own dagger pointing threateningly at Sylvie.
There had to be irony somewhere in that, Sylvie thought dazedly, wheezing from the way the breath had been knocked out of her. Eurydice was about to kill Sylvie with her own dagger—Halcyon, to be exact. The xiphos Demeter, their shared mother, gifted Sylvie. The last ever serving proof that they actually were family.
Eurydice tried paying attention to Ethan and Percy, but she wasn't going to make the same mistake as Sylvie. She brought up one foot, adorning a heavy combat boot, and stepped on Sylvie's injured arm. Sylvie wailed out, but there was no one to save her here. Not even Percy—He was about to be slaughtered, too. That mattered much more to Sylvie than the two blades directed at her face. She desperately watched the scene to the side.
Ethan's eyes dropped to Percy's midsection, and Sylvie was sure he knew. Even if he couldn't kill Percy himself, all he had to do was tell Kronos. There was no way Percy could defend himself any longer.
"Look around you, Ethan," Percy pleaded. Once, his eyes flickered to Sylvie's pinned body with worry. "The end of the world. Is this the reward you want? Do you really want everything destroyed—the good with the bad? Everything?"
Grover was almost to Annabeth now. The grass thickened on the floor. The roots were almost a foot long, like a stubble of whiskers. Sylvie knew an idea should be popping into her head at that, but she was about to black out in pain.
Goodbye, Silviana, she heard an unfamiliar voice taunt her mind. She didn't know whose. Go to that field of flowers, where all finished stories go. Yours will be forgotten.
"There is no throne to Nemesis," Ethan muttered. "No throne to my mother."
"That's right!" Eurydice encouraged, getting so excited that her boot crushed down on Sylvie's injured arm harder. Sylvie was so tired that she could only gasp sharply. "Strike them down! They deserve to suffer!"
"You said your mom is the goddess of balance," Percy reminded him. "The minor gods deserve better, Ethan, but total destruction isn't balance. Kronos doesn't build. He only destroys."
Ethan looked at the sizzling throne of Hephaestus. Grover's music kept playing, and Ethan swayed to it, as if the song were filling him with nostalgia—a wish to see a beautiful day, to be anywhere but here. His good eye blinked.
Then he charged... but not at Percy.
While Kronos was still on his knees, Ethan brought down his sword on the Titan lord's neck. It should have killed him instantly, but the blade shattered. Ethan fell back, grasping his stomach. A shard of his own blade had ricocheted and pierced his armor.
Kronos rose unsteadily, towering over his servant. "Treason," he snarled.
Grover's music kept playing, and grass grew around Sylvie and Ethan's laid bodies. Both faces were tight with pain, but for different reasons.
"Deserve better," Ethan gasped. "If they just... had thrones—"
Kronos stomped his foot, and the floor ruptured around Ethan Nakamura. The son of Nemesis fell through a fissure that went straight through the heart of the mountain—straight into open air. It didn't close, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of the throne room.
"So much for him." Kronos picked up his sword. "And now, Eurydice. Help me kill the rest."
Sylvie's only thought was to keep Eurydice away from Percy.
Suddenly, Sylvie's free arm pushed up, as if she was doing a reserve push-up. Eurydice cried out in shock as the grass beneath Sylvie's body shot up from the ground. It grew and turned into thick vines that punched Eurydice in the face. The elder Demeter sister stumbled back. Sylvie mustered all of her strength to stand up, legs wobbly.
She had to keep Eurydice away from Percy. From Luke. If Eurydice were to meddle with Kronos right now, there was no telling what power they would hold against Percy. So Sylvie would keep Eurydice away from Percy, even if that meant killing her.
Sylvie had no idea what she was doing. She felt like she was fourteen years old all over again. But there was no true alternative. So Sylvie met her oldest sister's gaze and said, "This time we fight, there's going to be a winner."
They were on equal ground once more. Sylvie watched as Eurydice twirled two weapons in either hand while she contemplated this, Halcyon and her own sword.
"Alright," Eurydice promised. "You and me, one more time."
And as Sylvie charged, one more time, she realized something about what Athena's message had been to Sylvie. Don't make the same mistake as your mother, Hermes had delivered the wisdom goddess's words, because love can be as much a strength as it is a weakness.
At the time, Sylvie had believed this was about Percy, but it wasn't.
Well, it was. Just not in the way Sylvie believed. It was about her love for Eurydice holding Sylvie back, making it a weakness, but her love for Percy giving her the strength to willingly fight the monster before her. Monster, because this was not Eurydice Arandel—a lost older sister who was simply led astray. This was Eurydice Arandel—a ruthless creature who cared about nothing except for Luke Castellan; not even herself. Sylvie knew that now.
So this time when she fought Eurydice, nothing would hold her back. Her fighting abilities wouldn't be hindered by anything now—not care, not concern, not instability, not anger, not foolishness. This war had curated Sylvie's body to be the perfect warrior. It didn't even matter that her right arm was completely useless—Eurydice was the one in possession of her right dagger anyways.
Nothing mattered except for keeping Percy safe.
The fight was ruthless. This time, Eurydice was giving her full strength as well. Her fighting abilities weren't being hindered either—not by shock, not by sadness, not by instability, not by anger, not by cruelty. Eurydice's body had always been curated to be the perfect warrior. It didn't even matter she was fighting with a dagger, which she usually didn't wield.
Nothing mattered except for keeping Luke safe.
The sisterly foils slashed and dodged and lunged for one another. Somewhere else, Percy and Kronos fought too. Kronos was making Percy's time slow to show him all the reasons this fight was hopeless.
Though it wasn't, really. Because Sylvie was still right there. That was a motivator stronger than anything.
Sylvie found it ironic that, in the end, she was fighting with one weapon. She started Camp Half-Blood with Eurydice trying to show her how to do this very thing, but she was never able to. It made her feel too foolish, too weak, but maybe it was never about the dagger. Maybe it was just Eurydice who'd always had the capability of making her feel this way. That thought fueled her, and she hacked down with Cereal again.
Out of nowhere, vines were conjured from Sylvie's dagger. This time, though, she'd meant to do it. The vines curled around Sylvie's arm like a sleeve. Her eyes glowed a leafy-green. She felt the power surging through her as if roots were being nurtured by a water source nearby.
It was Percy, of course. It would always be Percy.
Eurydice had two weapons, and Sylvie had one. Eurydice had two good arms, and Sylvie had one. One was overpowering the other now, but it wasn't Eurydice. Sylvie swung time and time again, forcing Eurydice to keep backing up.
Her older sister's eyebrows quivered in a way that showed her mask falling, her pure unadulterated fear. But Sylvie was afraid, too. She'd been afraid every day since Eurydice betrayed her. She'd been afraid her entire life. It wasn't fair that Sylvie always stopped everything to cater Eurydice. It wasn't fair that Sylvie had looked up to someone who never deserved it. It wasn't fair that this was the person Sylvie changed who she was for. It wasn't fair Eurydice did all this, let all of this happen, and never got away with it.
"Did you really leave for him?" Sylvie had to ask. "Did you really not care?!"
Eurydice glanced warily behind herself. Sylvie didn't seem to notice it, but Eurydice did. She was being walked back towards the hole of the throne room.
"I left because of you," Eurydice confessed honestly. The weight of it all came crashing down on her, and the sudden desire to tell the truth was overwhelming.
"SCREW you!" Sylvie's dagger managed to nick Eurydice's cheek.
"No, Sylv, please," Eurydice's hands came up, but it wasn't even to attack. "What gave me the strength to leave was the knowledge that you were staying behind. I'd seen what you were becoming, and what you could finally do. I knew I could leave, because they had you."
Florian was in her head again. It's all you now. It's all you now. It's all you now.
"Why'd it have to be me?" Sylvie's voice was growing choppier. "I only ever wanted it to be you."
Eurydice's expression crumbled. "I know. I know. But I had to go."
"You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," she corrected, desperately because Sylvie was still leading Eurydice towards the ledge. Her eyes were still glowing. Her plant powers were still pumping strength into her. "I wanted to be with Luke. I wanted—I wanted someone I could tell my stories to, just because he wanted to hear, and not because he needed comfort from a nightmare. I wanted someone who made me feel great, just by being near him. I wanted someone who loved me just as much as Orpheus loved Eurydice."
It was cruel—the way Sylvie snarled and asked, "How did that work out for you?"
"I haven't lost him yet," Eurydice announced. Her face suddenly morphed from a frown to a determined glare.
In their vulnerability, Eurydice tried one last feral lunge for Sylvie.
But Sylvie had already been fooled twice. This time, she was expecting it.
It all happened much too fast, and looking back, Sylvie wouldn't even be able to explain how the scene transpired. Sylvie knew she stepped away from Eurydice's strike, and she knew she body-slammed Eurydice in her side, but then it all went a little blurry. She was pretty sure it was because the pain was making her head all disoriented.
"No!" Kronos suddenly bellowed. "NO!"
The sound of Kronos's voice had the fight falling out of Eurydice's body at once. Sylvie hadn't been expecting this sudden slack, but she was already moving too fast for her momentum to be stopped in time.
Sylvie accidentally pushed Eurydice right into the hole Ethan had just fallen through.
"EURYDICE!" the voices of Sylvie and Luke cried.
Sylvie didn't stop to wonder why the Titan lord Kronos was wailing over the half-blood Eurydice. She was too busy throwing her body desperately toward the ledge. Just barely in time, Sylvie was able to catch Eurydice's arm with her own.
It didn't matter if they'd just been trying to kill each other, or that Sylvie promised herself she'd finish the job. In the end, Sylvie could only follow one song: the tune of a girl who loved her big sister so much she couldn't truly lay a hand against her. Athena was right. Her love for Eurydice did make her weak.
However, Sylvie's pain made her weaker.
Sylvie's dismembered thoughts weren't able to think her "saving Eurydice" idea through properly. Her body just moved out of instinct. Her left arm was holding Cereal, and therefore, it was the right one that had hysterically gripped Eurydice. Her ruined one.
Sylvie sobbed, for the pain in her arm and the worry towards her sister. It was happening too fast. It was happening too fast. It was happening too fast.
"Sylv, this is it," Eurydice's voice was strained. "You won, fair and square. Let me go."
This time we fight, there's going to be a winner.
Why had she fucking said that?
"N-No," Sylvie's tears fell down onto Eurydice's dangling body. Her demolished arm shattered further. "I can't. I can—ow, fuck!—pull you up!"
"I would just try and kill you again," she admitted.
Sylvie coughed out a choking noise. Her whole body strained. Everything hurt. Nothing was fair.
"Why?"
"You're not Luke," she said. "Even if you've got that... scar now."
Sylvie's head tilted down, weeping into her own chest. She wanted to pull Eurydice up, despite everything the girl was saying. It was mortifyingly embarrassing how much she wanted to—how much misery she felt at the realization that her grip on Eurydice was slipping.
"Can you let me... see it?" Eurydice asked. "The scar. One last time. Before I..."
Before I fall.
To love was to look back. She glanced at Eurydice. Sylvie was brokenhearted and sobbing and dying from the inside out.
"I really did love you, Eury."
"I know," Eurydice grimaced. "You shouldn't have."
Sylvie's right arm gave out, bending in the opposite direction.
"Fuck!" Sylvie screamed. Or maybe whispered. Or wailed. Or thought.
Eurydice Arandel fell far, far below. All the way where she couldn't touch Silviana Duvall anymore.
Sylvie desperately peered as far as she could through the hole—tried to hear Eurydice, or even the thud of her body, but there was nothing. Just a distant humming in Sylvie's ear.
The thing was, Sylvie understood what she heard in her head—An old song. An old tale from way back when. A sad song. A sad tale. It had many names, many descriptions, many reasons for lingering around despite the atrocities of it—We sing it anyway, 'cause here's the thing: to know how it ends, and still begin to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time.
Sylvie had heard the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; every single version, rendition, and interpretation. She was aware that there was only one way their story ever ended. She was aware that there wasn't any other way their ending could go.
This lifetime was no exception.
Eurydice Arandel lived her whole life hoping to find her Orpheus in the form of Luke Castellan. What she didn't know, of course, was that she had found it somewhere else; a different kind of love, taking shape in a daughter of Demeter who still watered plants because she didn't know when to stop giving.
In this rendition, Sylvie Duvall was Orpheus. In the end, Sylvie Duvall was the muse who held genuine love for Eurydice Arandel so grand that it was tragic. It was Sylvie who looked for Eurydice, and it was Eurydice who died a second time over.
Because this kind of love will doom itself every time.
"Sylvie, get away from the ledge!" Percy begged.
Sylvie turned her head to see him so gut-wrenchingly worried that tears streamed down his face, but he couldn't do anything, because he couldn't run from Kronos. Sylvie couldn't do anything either, because she was too weak to even breathe.
Then Sylvie slipped into the hole, too.
Just then, Grover played his pipes desperately. Blades of grass wrapped around Sylvie's ankle. They saved her from a one way trip and a very hard fall. They pulled her back over to where him and Annabeth were—the daughter of Athena was bloodied and in a tragic state, but Sylvie was pretty sure Annabeth would be fine. At least, fine compared to Sylvie's near-death state.
"It's okay," Grover murmured. "It's alright, Sylvie. You're alright."
Sylvie didn't know if he was trying to convince her or himself. Maybe both, because Sylvie honestly didn't believe him, and clearly neither did he. Sylvie was so weak she couldn't even speak.
"Stay alright," Grover whispered, "please."
Sylvie exhaled, lungs rattling.
Straight ahead, things weren't much better. Kronos had just disarmed Percy with an excellent move that had to be one of Luke's. Riptide skittered across the ground and fell straight into the open fissure.
"STOP!" Annabeth's strength came from nowhere.
Kronos whirled to face her and slashed with Backbiter, but somehow Annabeth caught the strike on her knife hilt. It was a move only the quickest and most skilled knife fighter could've managed. Don't ask Sylvie where Annabeth found the power, but she stepped in closer for leverage, their blades crossed, and for a moment she stood face-to-face with the Titan lord, holding him at a standstill.
"Luke," she said, gritting her teeth, "I understand now. You have to trust me."
Kronos roared in outrage. "Luke Castellan is dead! His body will burn away as I assume my true form!"
Sylvie tried to move, but her body was battered and almost dead with exhaustion.
Kronos pushed against Annabeth, trying to dislodge his blade, but she held him in check, her arms trembling as he forced his sword down toward her neck.
"Your mother," Annabeth grunted. "She saw your fate."
"Service to Kronos!" the Titan roared. "This is my fate."
"No!" Annabeth insisted. Her eyes were tearing up, but Sylvie didn't know if it was from sadness or pain. "That's not the end, Luke. The prophecy: she saw what you would do. It applies to you!"
"I will crush you, child!" Kronos bellowed.
"You won't," Annabeth said. "You promised. You're holding Kronos back even now."
"LIES!" Kronos pushed again, and this time Annabeth lost her balance. With his free hand, Kronos struck her face, and she slid backward.
Sylvie tried summoning all her will to rise. She couldn't. She couldn't, and Grover grappled for Sylvie desperately, because he really was sure she was dying now.
Kronos loomed over Annabeth, his sword raised.
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She croaked, "Family, Luke. You promised."
Percy took a pained step forward. Grover had managed to help Sylvie to her feet, over by the throne of Hera, but the two of them struggled to move. Before any of them could get anywhere close to Annabeth, Kronos staggered.
He stared at the knife in Annabeth's hand, the blood on her face. "Promise."
Then he gasped like he couldn't get air.
"Annabeth..." But it wasn't the Titan's voice. It was Luke's. He stumbled forward like he couldn't control his own body. "You're bleeding...."
"My knife." Annabeth tried to raise her knife, but it clattered out of her hand. She looked to her side, imploring, "Percy, please..."
Percy could suddenly move again, surging forward and scooping up Annabeth's knife. He knocked Backbiter out of Luke's hand, and it spun into the hearth. Luke hardly paid Percy any attention. He stepped toward Annabeth, but Percy put himself between Luke and her.
Anger rippled across Luke's face. Kronos's voice growled: "Jackson..."
Was it Sylvie's dying imagination, or was his whole body glowing, turning gold?
He gasped again. Luke's voice: "He's changing. Help. He's... He's almost ready. He won't need my body anymore. Please—"
"NO!" Kronos bellowed. He looked around for his sword, but it was in the hearth, glowing among the coals.
He stumbled toward it. Percy tried to stop him, but he pushed Percy out of the way with such force Percy landed next to Annabeth and cracked his head on the base of Athena's throne.
Black spots of agony overtook Sylvie's vision for a moment. When she focused again, Sylvie saw Kronos grasping his sword. Then he bellowed in pain and dropped it. His hands were smoking and seared. The hearth fire had grown red-hot, like the scythe wasn't compatible with it. Sylvie saw an image of Hestia flickering in the ashes, frowning at Kronos with disapproval.
Luke turned and collapsed, clutching his ruined hands. "Please, Percy..."
Percy struggled to his feet. He moved toward Luke with the knife. He was going to kill Luke, and at that realization, Annabeth stumbled over to Sylvie and Grover for comfort. Sylvie would've protected Annabeth from all this pain if she could, but she didn't stand a chance when her own pain was the only thing coursing through her veins right now.
Luke moistened his lips. "You can't... can't do it yourself. He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can... can keep him controlled."
He was definitely glowing now, his skin starting to smoke.
Percy raised the knife to strike. He looked at Grover, who was trying to cradle both Sylvie and Annabeth in his arms. He was trying to shield Annabeth and protect Sylvie. It wasn't looking good over there, but still, Percy couldn't have gone through all of this just to not make it back to Sylvie. Just for her not to make it back to him. He had to pick the right choice that led him wherever Sylvie Duvall ended up safe.
"Please," Luke groaned. "No time."
Then Percy gave the knife to Luke.
Grover jolted in fear, shaking Sylvie's near-dead figure and causing her to groan. "Percy?" he asked. "Are you... um..."
Crazy, Sylvie wanted to finish. Insane. Off his rocker.
But Percy ignored Grover, and just watched as Luke grasped the hilt. He stood before Luke—defenseless.
Luke unlatched the side straps of his armor, exposing a small bit of his skin just under his left arm, a place that would be very hard to hit. With difficulty, he stabbed himself.
It wasn't a deep cut, but Luke howled. His eyes glowed like lava. The throne room shook, throwing Percy off his feet. An aura of energy surrounded Luke, growing brighter and brighter. Sylvie shut her eyes and felt a force like a nuclear explosion blister her skin and crack her lips.
It was silent for a long time.
When Sylvie's eyes fluttered open, she saw Luke sprawled at the hearth. On the floor around him was a blackened circle of ash. Kronos's scythe had liquefied into molten metal and was trickling into the coals of the hearth, which now glowed like a blacksmith's furnace.
Luke's left side was bloody. His eyes were open—blue eyes, the way they used to be. His breath was a deep rattle.
"Good... blade," he croaked.
Percy kneeled next to him. Sylvie limped over with Annabeth and Grover's support. The three all had tears in their eyes.
Luke gazed at Annabeth. "You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew..."
"Shhh." Her voice trembled. "You were a hero at the end, Luke. You'll go to Elysium."
He shook his head weakly. "Think... rebirth. Try for three times. Isles of the Blest."
Annabeth sniffled. "You always pushed yourself too hard."
He held up his charred hand. Annabeth touched his fingertips.
"Did you..." Luke coughed and his lips glistened red. "Did you love me?"
Annabeth wiped her tears away. "There was a time I thought... well, I thought... You were like a brother to me, Luke," she said softly. "But I didn't love you."
He nodded, as if he'd expected it. He winced in pain.
"We can get ambrosia," Grover said. "We can—"
"Grover," Luke gulped. "You're the bravest satyr I ever knew. But no. There's no healing—"
Another cough.
"Hey, uh, Sylvie," he groaned. "You suit that scar... better than me."
Sylvie wanted to laugh, but she didn't find it very funny, and everything hurt too much. She couldn't have laughed even if she wanted to.
"I'm—I ruined things. With you and Eury," admitted Luke. "I'm sorry. But... at least I can make things right with her again. Be with her."
Sylvie swallowed thickly. She looked at Percy, who seemed to be drinking in the fact that she was still here. And Sylvie realized she was doing the same thing. The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to Sylvie Duvall was that Percy Jackson was alive.
"I..." Sylvie had to force forward all of the strength she didn't have so she could speak. Even then, her voice was rasping and rattling. "I dunno if that can happen, Luke. She wasn't a—very good... person."
"No, maybe she wasn't," he whispered. "But she loved me like she was one. And that—It has to count for something, right?"
Sylvie disagreed. Even if Eurydice hoped for Elysium, unfortunately those dreams would never outweigh the atrocities she'd caused—especially considering she hadn't done anything to counteract or outweigh them. But Luke was dying before Sylvie's eyes, and Sylvie didn't want to anguish the dying man much further.
"Yeah," Sylvie wheezed, lying, "it counts for somethin'."
Then Luke gripped Percy's sleeve. "Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don't let it... Don't let it happen again."
His eyes were angry, but pleading too.
"I won't," Percy said. "I promise."
Luke nodded, and his hand went slack.
The gods arrived a few minutes later in their full war regalia, thundering into the throne room and expecting a battle.
What they found were Sylvie, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover standing over the body of a broken half-blood, in the dim warm light of the hearth.
"Percy," Poseidon called (since when had he joined the fray?), awe in his voice. "What... What is this?"
Percy turned and faced the Olympians.
"We need a shroud," he announced, voice cracking. "A shroud for the son of Hermes."
╰━━━ ◦ ❀ ◦ ❀◦ ━━━╯
BAILEY YAPS...
Chapter title is Eurydice pov lmfao
Too soon?
Sorry. Alternatively titled stream hadestown pt. 2.
I hoped this was eh enjoyable at least
Sylvie certainly didn't enjoy it, she's sort of basically-dead!
My face don't gaf tho she's always basically-dead
Anyways shoutout to the two times Percy was about to be bested/killed, but he looked to see Sylvie, and found a reason to keep fighting again. Because "It wasn't looking good over there, but still, Percy couldn't have gone through all of this just to not make it back to Sylvie. Just for her not to make it back to him. He had to pick the right choice that led him wherever Sylvie Duvall ended up safe." Yeah. Out of all the lines in this chapter that may be the one that got me
Drop the line that got YOU 🫵 in the comments BELOW!😛
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