Chapter Text
1. Percy
Most people get presents for their sixteenth birthday, like a brand new car or tickets to your favorite artists concert. But not Percy Jackson. He got a prophecy which ended up destroying the world, dethroning the gods and will probably end with his and everyone he loves’ heads on a scythe. Yay! Exciting! Not your average sweet sixteen.
*A FEW HOURS AGO*
Blood trickled from the corner of Annabeth’s mouth. “Family, Luke. You promised.”
Percy staggered forward. Across the throne room, Grover had managed to get back on his feet beside Hera’s throne, though he appeared to be struggling to move. Before either of them could get anywhere near Annabeth, Luke moved.
He stared at the knife in Annabeth’s hand, the blood on her face. “Promise,” he gasped. “Annabeth…” He stumbled forward awkwardly as if he wasn’t in control of his own body. “You’re bleeding…”
“M- my knife.” Annabeth breathed, trying to raise her dagger, to no avail. The weapon clattered to the ground, her arm bent at an unnatural angle. She looked at Percy, whimpering.
“Percy, please…”
Percy could move again. He surged forward and scooped up her knife. He knocked Backbiter out of Luke’s hand, the sword spinning into the hearth. Luke hardly paid him any attention. He was about to step toward Annabeth, but Percy inserted himself between them.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” he snarled.
Anger rippled across Luke’s face. “Jackson…” Kronos’s voice growled the name. Percy wondered if it was his imagination, but Luke’s entire body seemed to be glowing, turning gold.
He gasped again. Luke’s voice returned. “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 Kronos shoved him aside with such force that Percy landed next to Annabeth and cracked his head against the base of Athena’s throne.
“The knife, Percy,” Annabeth muttered. Her breath was shallow. “Hero… cursed blade…”
When Percy’s vision cleared, he saw Kronos grasp his sword. A moment later, Kronos cried out in pain and dropped it. His hands smoked, seared by the heat. The hearth fire had become red-hot, as though the scythe was incompatible with it. Percy caught a glimpse of Hestia’s image flickering in the ashes, frowning at Kronos in disapproval.
Luke turned and collapsed, clutching his ruined hands. “Please, Percy…”
Percy struggled to his feet and moved toward him with the knife. He should kill Luke. That had been the plan. Luke seemed to know what he was thinking. He 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.”
Luke had to die, right, then why was he hesitant on handing the celestial bronze dagger to him. Luke had to die to save Olympus. Another voice spoke in his head.
‘he doesn’t deserve to die a glorious or painless death after all the harm he caused everyone, after he made him and annabeth hold up the sky, not after half of camp is dead because of him.’
He immediately felt ashamed of himself for thinking like that. Luke was his friend first before all of it, and he was being manipulated by Kronos. All he’d ever wanted was the gods paying more attention to their kids.
Percy tightened his grip on Annabeth’s knife.
He swore that he only hesitated for merely a second
But it was enough.
Luke suddenly convulsed. His body arched backward, a scream tearing from his throat. Golden light erupted from every crack in his skin. The floor beneath him shattered. The air trembled.
“NO!” Annabeth cried.
A shockwave exploded through the throne room.
Percy was hurled across the chamber. Statues toppled. Columns cracked. The hearth fire guttered and died.
And something shattered like glass… The mist. The supernatural veil that distorts mortal perception, tricking humans into seeing ordinary things instead of mythological creatures. It was gone now.
People were screaming from below. Of course now they could see what demigods saw everyday, but the mist was there for a reason. Human minds just can simply comprehend the mythological world.
Percy glanced at annabeth who was looking down on the chaos waging over New York City. She pointed downwards “The last time the mist shattered was in 1986, and it caused Chernobyl… and that time it’d only happened in one singular place. But now…”
Then came the cold.
Not ordinary cold.
The kind that seemed to seep into the bones of the world itself. Every torch extinguished. Every breath became mist.
Outside, the sky darkened.
Luke rose slowly from the ground. No. It was Kronos.
He levitated higher and higher, suspended above the ruined floor. Golden fire poured from his eyes. The remnants of Luke Castellan were disappearing beneath something ancient and terrible.
The Titan Lord spread his arms.
The throne room groaned as if the mountain itself feared him.
Far beyond Olympus, clouds gathered over the world. Storms twisted across continents. Oceans churned. The stars vanished behind curtains of black.
Percy felt it instantly.
The ancient barriers that had protected Olympus were collapsing.
One by one.
Every god, every demigod, every monster on Earth must have felt it.
The war was over. And they had lost.
Kronos laughed.
The sound rolled across the heavens like thunder.
“At last.”
His voice echoed from every wall, every stone, every gust of wind.
“The age of the gods has ended, my dear demigod welcome to the new golden era”
The golden aura surrounding him expanded, swallowing the throne room in blinding light.
Annabeth stared at Luke’s, no , Kronos floating body
“Luke!” she shouted. “Fight him!”
For a moment, Kronos froze.
Just a moment.
Deep within the golden inferno, Luke’s face flickered to the surface. His expression was filled with pain.
“Run,” he whispered.
Then Kronos crushed the resistance. Luke’s features vanished. The Titan’s eyes blazed brighter than the sun. With a single gesture, the ceiling of the throne room split apart.
The sky itself seemed to tear open.
Kronos ascended through the shattered mountain, rising above Olympus, above the clouds, visible to the entire world. The twelve Olympian’s were nowhere to be seen. Minor gods and goddesses in chains. He built himself a large singular throne for him in the old and broken Olympian throne room.
Kronos snapped his fingers and shackles appeared on every demigods neck, and they were forced to kneel to the lord of titans.
The era of the titans began
They’d lost, and it was all his fault.