Ashes, Lightning, and Shadows
Percy boarded the bus with his companions just before the last passengers got on. They were three nearly identical old women, dressed in the same outdated clothes and wearing hats so bright they were almost grotesque. Each had a different color, but that wasn't the disturbing part.
What truly made Percy freeze was the face of the woman in the middle.
He knew that face. He would never forget it.
"Mrs. Dodds," he muttered, his voice steady but filled with disbelief, shock, and restrained fury, as if ready to lunge at her the moment he saw her.
Grover grabbed his arm nervously to stop him.
Percy shot him an irritated look, though he eventually accepted it. He dropped into his seat, eyes never leaving the three old women, who smiled mockingly at him before sitting just behind the driver.
"I thought you said that when they die, they're expelled for almost a lifetime," said Percy, his gaze fixed on the back of Mrs. Dodds's head.
"I said if you were lucky," Annabeth replied quickly. She was tense too—after all, what stood before them were the Furies of Hades. "And clearly, you're not," she added with a grimace, as if blaming Percy for their bad luck.
Grover swallowed hard. "All three of them are here…" he whispered, on the verge of hyperventilating.
"It's fine," Annabeth said softly, trying to stay calm. "We just need to find an opportunity—maybe jump out the window or through the emergency exit."
"The windows are sealed… and there's no emergency exit," Grover stammered, his face growing paler by the second.
Annabeth tried to think fast, searching for a way out, but time wasn't on their side.
Mrs. Dodds rose from her seat with an almost theatrical air and announced, "I have to go to the restroom."
Her voice sounded perfectly normal to the mortals, who saw nothing more than an ordinary elderly lady.
"Me too," said the second.
"And me," added the third.
The three began walking slowly toward the back of the bus.
Nervousness spread between Annabeth and Grover, while Percy's expression turned cold and determined. His hand slipped inside his bag, revealing the black hilt of a sword barely visible in the shadows.
Tap… tap… tap.
A dull sound caught his attention, like something falling to the floor. Ignoring his companions' panic, he looked down.
At his feet were three dark stones… no, not stones. They were massive gems, each the size of a hand, radiating a sinister glow. Their polygonal, uneven surfaces looked like roughly cut prisms. They were as black as obsidian, but faint purple reflections swirled within, like smoke or living energy trapped inside the crystal.
Percy frowned, confused. He crouched, picked up the gems, and placed them in his bag, deciding to examine them later.
"Here, take this, Percy! You need to hide and get out!" Annabeth said suddenly, shoving her Yankees cap in front of him, her eyes full of determination.
Percy blinked, caught slightly off guard, then glanced down at the cap. "And what about you two?" he asked seriously.
"We'll be fine. They're after you. Maybe they won't even attack us if they can't see you. Now put it on!" Annabeth insisted.
A faint glint passed through Percy's eyes before he nodded. He looked at her once more and then slipped on the cap.
In an instant, his body vanished.
Annabeth and Grover could no longer see him, though their faces showed deep worry and resignation. They both knew Percy was far more important to the quest than either of them.
The three Furies drew closer, only a few meters away now. Their bodies began to twist and change—their skin cracked and darkened, revealing beneath it a texture like burning ash, gray streaked with glowing red veins like living embers. From their backs burst massive, bony bat-like wings. Their eyes turned a feral yellow, and their mouths opened unnaturally wide, revealing curved fangs and a forked tongue.
In their hands appeared whips of fire and shadow, crackling as if forged from pure hatred.
Mrs. Dodds took the lead.
But just then, she heard a sharp hiss beside her, like the sound of air being sliced apart.
She turned—her eyes widening in shock and fear.
A black sword was hurtling toward her neck.
Percy appeared out of nowhere, his cap pushed just enough to reveal his face. His eyes blazed with fury, and the strength behind his strike was meant to decapitate her in a single blow.
For a brief instant, Mrs. Dodds smiled mockingly. The blade didn't look like normal steel; she believed it couldn't harm her.
But her smile vanished immediately.
The sword touched her neck, and a surge of lightning tore through her body. Blue sparks and blazing fire erupted around her, merging with a cold so deep it seemed to freeze her very blood. It was like being burned, electrocuted, and frozen all at once.
For an endless second, everything spun. The last thing she saw was her own body falling headless to the floor—and Percy standing before her, sword still glowing with a dark light.
The metallic sound of something being cut echoed loudly.
The bus shook violently as part of its frame was sliced open like paper under the force of the attack. Passengers screamed while a section of the roof tore apart, smoke and panic filling the air.
Percy remained standing, eyes cold and expression unreadable, watching as the woman's head—the one who had likely taken his mother—fell to the floor before dissolving into dust.
His black sword shone faintly, as if absorbing the remains, before expelling them toward his bag. Percy felt a slight tug on the strap, sensing a strange connection between it and the dark stones he had collected earlier.
The bus erupted into chaos. The driver fought to regain control, passengers screamed and stumbled—but Percy stood still, his calm almost unnerving, his eyes fixed on the spot where Mrs. Dodds had fallen.
Without saying a word, he reached into his bag and pulled out a golden pen. With a swift twist, he uncapped it; a second sword appeared in his hand—identical to the first, yet gleaming like sunlight itself.
Now armed with both, he raised his gaze toward the Furies. There was no fear in his eyes, only determination and a thirst for vengeance.
Yet, despite everything, his expression remained under control.
"P-Percy?" Grover murmured, uneasy at the coldness he had never seen in his friend before.
Percy didn't answer. He didn't even turn around. He simply pushed off the ground and launched himself toward the nearest Fury, aiming Anaklusmos directly at her neck.
The creatures froze for a moment, paralyzed between fear and disbelief. They had just watched their sister's soul get absorbed by the boy's black sword and then expelled into that strange bag at his waist.
But they recovered quickly. Their whips burst into dark flames as they attacked in unison.
Percy swung his black sword, deflecting part of the strike without halting the motion of Anaklusmos. The whips wrapped around the black blade—and instantly began to freeze. One of the Furies leapt back to dodge, barely escaping, feeling the edge graze her neck.
Percy twisted his wrist sharply, shattering the frozen whips into a thousand shards, then brought down a powerful vertical slash.
The Fury who had thought she was safe was cleaved cleanly from head to toe. Her body disintegrated and was absorbed by the black sword, which once again expelled her essence into Percy's bag.
The impact was so fierce that the bus's roof tore open, and a diagonal slash shattered the front windshield. The driver screamed, struggling to regain control as the vehicle shook violently.
The last Fury realized she had no chance. That boy wasn't an ordinary demigod. His weapons were something else—something that shouldn't exist.
In fear and desperation, she turned sharply and leapt through the shattered windshield, beating her wings frantically to flee at high speed.
Percy followed her with his eyes, his breathing steady. Then he raised Anaklusmos as if it were a spear.
"Aaaah!" he shouted, gathering all his strength. His muscles tensed, veins bulging along his arms as he hurled the sword with almost inhuman force.
The weapon flew through the air like lightning, piercing the Fury mid-flight. A flash streaked across the sky before her body dissolved into dust.
Unlike the others, her essence wasn't absorbed—it simply scattered, as if refusing to be taken.
Then the out-of-control bus veered off and slammed into a tree by the roadside. The impact hurled passengers against the seats and shattered several windows.
Percy grabbed one of the side rails to keep himself from being thrown out. He waited a few seconds, took a deep breath, and then picked up the golden pen again, clicking it shut before tucking it into his bag.
He exhaled slowly, as if releasing all the anger and bitterness that had driven him to attack. Then he turned toward his companions, who were staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths.
"Looks like we won't be getting any farther on this bus," he said calmly.
He paused briefly, then added matter-of-factly, "Oh, by the way, you might want to adjust your cap a little—it came off while I was moving."
Annabeth stared at him, torn between laughing and screaming, as Percy handed her back the Yankees cap.
In the distance, dark clouds began to gather, and thunder rumbled across the sky.
The air grew heavy, charged with electricity. It was as if the very heavens were furious.
Percy looked up just as he felt a sharp kick to his back.
"What the—?" he managed to say before his body was sent flying out of the bus, hitting the grass with a hard thud. Grover and Annabeth landed beside him, just as dazed, while people screamed and ran for their lives.
A second later, a lightning bolt fell from the sky, striking the bus dead center.
BOOM.
The explosion was deafening. Flames engulfed the vehicle, turning it into a blazing inferno of smoke and fire.
"Wh-what… what was that?" Grover stammered, still in shock.
"Who pulled us out of the bus?" Annabeth asked, staring at the flames in disbelief.
Percy smirked faintly despite the pain in his backside from the kick. His gaze drifted toward the stormy sky, as though expecting another strike at any moment.
"We'd better get going," he said quickly, urging his companions to move. Both nodded, still sore from their falls, and started running with him toward the nearby forest.
…
As firetruck sirens wailed in the distance and bystanders recorded the flames with their phones, a figure began to emerge from the heart of the blaze.
Gasps and screams erupted among the witnesses—astonishment and fear blending in equal measure.
A man stepped calmly out of the fire, completely unharmed. His expression was serene, almost bored. His eyes swept across the scene until they fixed on the direction where Percy and the others had fled. Then he looked up at the sky, as if challenging whoever had cast the lightning.
Miraak smiled faintly—a calm, mocking smile full of defiance. The sky roared again, though the bolts now seemed restrained, as if something unseen was holding them back.
With unhurried steps, Miraak began walking toward the forest.
For a moment he stopped, glancing down at his hands.
"Mmm… this feeling… perhaps it's from that drink. I feel slightly drunk," he said casually.
He shrugged, unconcerned, and continued walking among the trees, the raging fire behind him illuminating the night.