In the deepest chamber of Alcatraz, footsteps echoed down the corridor. Heavy. Uneven. Like something limping.
The sound of weight that didn't quite... settle right.
Aethon thrashed against his chains, eyes wide. Not at pain—he'd endured pain for weeks now.
At what was COMING.
The chamber door groaned open.
The figure that entered was tall—eight, maybe nine feet—but something was WRONG about him.
He flickered.
Not like a ghost. Like bad reception on a TV. Like reality couldn't quite decide if he was fully THERE.
His form solidified as he stepped into the torchlight.
Tall, yes. Muscular, yes. But FADED. Like a painting left in the sun too long. His skin was grey-silver, but not the solid grey of storm clouds—more like smoke trying to be flesh. Translucent at the edges.
His armor was ancient Titan-bronze, but shattered. Literally shattered. A breastplate with a massive crack down the center, held together by leather straps. Greaves that had been broken and crudely reforged. Pauldrons dented and bent.
Everything about him screamed: I was once MAGNIFICENT. Now look at me.
And his eyes—
Fractured glass. Silver shards barely held together. But not glowing with cosmic power. Just... broken. Dull. Like mirrors that had shattered and been glued back together wrong.
Eyes that HATED what they'd become.
In his right hand, he carried a halberd—eight feet of dark metal, the blade chipped and pitted. Not the pristine weapon of a Titan at full power. A SURVIVOR'S weapon. Functional. Deadly. But worn.
He looked at the dragon.
And his semi-solid form flickered again. Just for a second.
Like he wasn't quite real yet.
"Good morning, beast," he said. His voice was deep, yes. Powerful, yes. But it CRACKED at the edges. Like it was struggling to maintain its resonance. "Did you sleep well?"
Aethon's chains rattled.
"Please—" the dragon started.
The Titan—because that's what he was, even diminished—raised one hand.
Grabbed a stalactite hanging from the ceiling.
His fingers closed.
CRACK.
The stone shattered. Powder and fragments raining down.
But the Titan's hand flickered when he did it. Like the effort COST him.
He opened his palm. Let the dust fall.
"That could be your skull," he said, voice bitter. "If I were at FULL strength, I could shatter mountains. Now?"
He looked at his translucent hand with disgust.
"Now I can barely hold FORM. Three thousand years in Tartarus. Three thousand years REFORMING. And THIS—" he gestured at his flickering body, "—is what crawls back."
He stepped closer. Each footstep cracking stone—but barely.
"I am PERSES." The name came out like ashes. "Once called the Destroyer. The Shattering Lord. Titan of Destruction."
He leaned down, bringing his fractured eyes level with the dragon's.
"Now reduced to... THIS. A shadow. A FRAGMENT. Not even fully REAL yet."
His form flickered violently. Rage making it unstable.
"So yes, dragon. You're my masterpiece. Because you're the ONLY thing strong enough to break right now. And I will SAVOR every moment of it."
Perses held up a massive scale—still warm with ichor—that he'd torn off earlier.
Aethon hung suspended in the center of the chamber, chains burning into flesh at neck, wings, legs, and tail. The dragon had once been magnificent—thirty feet of crimson scales, fire-breathing terror, Ares' personal mount in battle.
Now he was a canvas of suffering.
Patches of scales stripped away, revealing raw flesh beneath. Wings torn and useless. One horn broken off. Eyes—once proud and fierce—now glazed red with pain and exhausted rage.
"Please," Aethon gasped. "Please—no more—"
"'Please?'" Perses's voice dripped venom. "'No more?' I spent THREE THOUSAND YEARS begging for 'no more.' Screaming into darkness. REFORMING atom by atom. Crawling back from NOTHING."
He tossed the scale to a waiting dracaena.
"You think YOUR pain matters compared to MINE?"
The Titan's form solidified. Rage giving him temporary strength.
"Do you know what I love about dragons?" Perses asked, voice bitter. "You're like us -IMMORTAL. Can't die. Can't escape into oblivion's sweet mercy."
He circled the chained beast.
"Which means I can take my TIME."
"Monster," Aethon spat weakly, fire flickering in his throat. "Coward. You chain me and torture me but you won't face me in TRUE combat—"
"Combat?" Perses's form flickered with dark amusement. "You think this is COMBAT? Oh, beast. This is ART."
He gripped another scale, fingers finding the weak point.
"This is SCIENCE."
He PULLED.
CRACK.
Aethon's roar shook the chamber. His body convulsed, chains rattling, fire exploding from his jaws.
Perses didn't even flinch. The flames washed over him—Titan flesh, even diminished, laughed at dragon-fire.
"This is ENTERTAINMENT."
He held up the scale, examining it.
"You know, when Lord Kronos first gave me this assignment, I was INSULTED." His voice turned bitter. "Three thousand years reforming. Three thousand years crawling back from oblivion. And then I'm finally FREED, finally given some semblance of FORM, and what does the Titan Lord assign me?"
He gestured at Aethon with disgust.
"Babysitting duty. 'Guard the dragon, Perses. Strip its scales, Perses. Break its spirit, Perses.' Like I'm some common JAILER."
The dragon's remaining eye focused on him, hatred burning through the pain.
"But then I realized," Perses continued, his tone shifting, "this isn't just torture. This is PURPOSE."
He moved closer, halberd tapping rhythmically.
"Every scale I take weakens you. Every drop of ichor I drain diminishes you. Every moment of suffering I inflict BREAKS you."
He grabbed Aethon's jaw, forcing the dragon to meet his fractured-glass eyes.
"And when you're finally broken—when your spirit is SHATTERED beyond repair—I will sacrifice what's left of you. Your immortal essence. Your divine power. Your very SOUL."
Perses's smile widened, showing too many teeth. His form flickered again.
"Straight to Lord Kronos. To QUICKEN his revival. To bring the Titan King back to full power MONTHS ahead of his schedule."
Aethon's eye widened in horror.
"Yes," Perses purred. "You understand now. Your suffering has MEANING. Your death will MATTER. You should be HONORED—"
"I would rather DIE than serve Kronos—"
"But you CAN'T die." Perses released him, stepping back. His form solidified again. "That's the beautiful part. Dragons are immortal. You'll suffer. You'll break. And then you'll fuel the very being you despise."
He turned away, gesturing to the monsters in the shadows.
"Take this scale to the forges. Armor for the traitors." He paused, then added with casual cruelty: "And bring me the iron hooks. I think it's time to work on his OTHER wing."
Aethon thrashed weakly, chains burning bright as the dragon tried desperately to break free.
"Struggle all you want," Perses called over his shoulder, his form flickering with satisfaction. "It only makes this more satisfying."
The dragon's roar devolved into something that sounded almost like sobbing.
Perses smiled.
Three thousand years reforming. Three thousand years of humiliation.
And now? Now he had something WEAKER than him. Something he could HURT.
It felt good.
It felt like POWER.
Even if it was just the power to torture a chained beast.
Even if he was too weak to do much else.
Better than nothing, he told himself, watching his translucent hand flicker in and out of solidity.
Better than being nothing.
The Summons
Perses was halfway through examining which section of wing to strip next when light flared behind him.
Not torch-light. Not dragon-fire.
IRIS-MESSAGE light.
He turned, annoyance flashing across his features.
The shimmering rainbow image showed Luke Castellan""young, scar-faced, trying to look authoritative and failing.
"Lord Perses," Luke said, his tone careful. "Lord Kronos requires your presence in the command center. Immediately."
Perses stared at him.
Silence stretched.
Then: "No."
Luke blinked. "I... what?"
"I said NO, whelp." Perses' voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. "I am in the middle of IMPORTANT work. Tell your Titan Lord that I will come when I am FINISHED"""
"He said immediately, Lord Perses. It's urgent."
The rainbow image flickered, and for just a moment, a deeper darkness moved behind Luke.
Something vast.
Something watching.
Perses' jaw tightened.
"Of course," he said, voice dripping with barely controlled fury. "IMMEDIATELY. As the Lord commands."
The message winked out.
Perses stood there, halberd gripped so tight his knuckles cracked.
"Urgent," he muttered. "URGENT. As if I don't have my own priorities. As if I'm some errand boy to be summoned and dismissed"""
He kicked a loose stone. It shattered against the far wall with the force of a cannonball.
"THREE THOUSAND YEARS I rotted in Tartarus! THREE THOUSAND YEARS of LOYALTY! And this is how I'm treated? Like some... some LIEUTENANT? Some disposable tool?"
He whirled on the dragon.
"Do you SEE this? Do you see how even among the Titans I am DIMINISHED? Even among my own KIND I am treated like""like"""
He couldn't even finish the sentence. The rage choked him.
Aethon watched through pain-glazed eyes but said nothing.
"The only reason""the ONLY reason""I haven't ground Castellan into paste is because of LORD KRONOS' orders," Perses snarled. "That CHILD. That arrogant little DEMIGOD, giving me commands. 'Lord Perses, come here. Lord Perses, do this.' If it were up to me, he'd be MUD under my feet!"
He grabbed his halberd, hefting it with visible effort to calm himself.
"But no. No, I must be PATIENT. Must be OBEDIENT. Must play my role in the grand plan." His fractured-glass eyes glinted with malice. "Break the dragon's spirit. Sacrifice it to Kronos. Quicken the revival. Prove my worth."
He started toward the door, then paused.
Looked back at Aethon.
"When I return, beast, we continue. And I will take my frustrations out on your OTHER wing. Slowly. Very, VERY slowly."
The dragon managed a weak growl of defiance.
Perses laughed""hollow, bitter.
"Keep that fire, dragon. It's all you have left. And soon, I'll strip that away too."
He ducked through the doorway, his massive frame barely fitting, leaving Aethon alone in the darkness.
Alone with his pain.
Alone with his chains.
Alone with the knowledge that his death would serve the very evil he'd fought against.
In the shadows, the dragon whispered to himself:
"Come, warrior. Come quickly. Before there's nothing left to save."
The Council
The command center occupied Alcatraz's main cell block - a grim choice that wasn't lost on anyone. Where prisoners had once rotted, traitors now plotted.
Perses had to duck through THREE doorways to enter, each one making him angrier. Doorways built for humans. Hallways built for MORTALS.
Everything about this prison was a reminder that he was operating in a world not made for Titans.
The room opened up into what had once been a communal area. Now it was filled with maps, weapon racks, and his " council."
Luke stood at the center table, maps spread before him. Around him:
The Seven Demigod Traitors:
Ethan Nakamura - Son of Nemesis, missing his left eye (traded to his mother for power), bitter and angry. Deadly with his twin blades.
James Wright - Son of Ares, brutal and loving it. Strong, aggressive, loved a good fight. His spear gleamed with careful maintenance.
Melody Chase and Andrea Thorne - Daughters of Aphrodite, charm-speakers both. They used their powers to manipulate and seduce information from their victims. Dangerous voices that could bend wills.
Marcus Greenwood - Son of Demeter, resentful about being overlooked. His plant manipulation was formidable—vines strong as cables, thorns sharp as knives.
The Twins, Leo and Lucia Shadows - Unclaimed, angry at the gods for abandoning them entirely. Fast, aggressive, unpredictable. They were wild cards, loyal only to each other and to the idea of burning down Olympus.
All seven wore armor plated with dragon scales. Draconic gear scavenged from Aethon's torn scales—chest plates, greaves, bracers. All seven had weapons coated in dragon ichor for extra bite. All seven looked at Perses with a mixture of awe and fear.
Good.
The Monster Commanders stood behind them:
A scarred dracaena sergeant, snake-tail coiled, spear ready. Her eyes were bloodshot—too much dragon ichor in her system. She twitched occasionally, like an addict craving another hit.
An empousa lieutenant with red eyes and bronze leg, vampiric and hungry. She kept licking her lips, tasting phantom blood. The dragon ichor had made her RAVENOUS.
A massive hellhound pack-leader, car-sized and deadly. Its muscles bulged unnaturally, veins glowing faint gold beneath its fur. Dragon blood pumped through its system, making it half-crazy with power and aggression.
Behind them—in the shadows of Alcatraz—TWO HUNDRED monsters waited. And half of them had been fed dragon blood. Enhanced. Stronger. Faster.
More violent.
More unstable.
Like drug addicts given supernatural steroids, they were barely controllable. Foaming at the mouth. Eyes wild. Ready to RIP and TEAR and KILL.
"Lord Perses." Luke nodded respectfully. "Thank you for coming."
"I was SUMMONED," Perses corrected coldly. "By Lord Kronos. There is a difference."
Luke's jaw tightened but he didn't rise to the bait.
Smart boy. Barely.
"We have a situation," Luke continued, gesturing to the map. "The Hunters of Artemis have been spotted in the area. Oakland hills, approximately twenty miles from here."
"Hunters." Perses snorted. "Irrelevant. They cannot fight so many monsters and a Titan in a fortified position. Even the Moon Goddess knows better."
"They're not entering," Luke said. "They let someone else go. Someone headed this direction."
"One demigod?" James Wright laughed, sharp and cruel. "You called a full war council for ONE"""
"The golden one," Luke interrupted.
Silence.
Then James laughed again, louder. "Oh, THIS should be fun."
"The new kid?" Ethan leaned forward, his single eye gleaming. "The one from camp? The one who can't even READ Greek?"
"The same," Luke confirmed.
"And you're WORRIED about him?" Ethan's voice dripped with disbelief. "Luke. LUKE. Look around you."
He gestured at the assembled force.
"Seven demigods wearing dragon-scale armor. Two HUNDRED monsters—half of them enhanced with dragon blood. Fortified position."
He pointed at Perses.
"And a TITAN. An actual, honest-to-gods TITAN. The Shattering Lord himself."
The others were nodding, smirks spreading.
"One demigod walks into THIS?" Ethan continued. "That's not a battle. That's a MASSACRE. And I, for one, am going to ENJOY it."
"Agreed," James said, hefting his spear. "Kid's walking to his death. At least he'll give us some entertainment before he dies."
The twins laughed together""a creepy synchronized sound.
Andrea spoke up, her charm-speaker voice making even her bloodthirsty words sound seductive: "I almost feel bad for him. ALMOST. But after what the gods have done to us? After being abandoned, overlooked, USED? He chose the wrong side."
"He's fighting for the gods," Marcus added, his voice cold. "That makes him the enemy. And enemies DIE."
Melody nodded, playing with a dragon-scale knife. "We've been preparing for weeks. The amount of power we have here? Camp Half-Blood itself couldn't stand against us."
"Exactly," Ethan said. "So why are we even WORRIED? It's one demigod against all THIS. What's he going to do? Ask nicely?"
Luke looked at them all. Young. Confident. Enhanced with stolen power. Drunk on the idea of being STRONG for once.
They had no idea.
"I've trained with him," Luke said quietly. "He's skilled. VERY skilled."
"So am I," James shot back. "And I have the best gear we've got. Dragon-scale armor. Weapons coated in ichor."
"He fought off twenty monsters alone."
"And we have TWO HUNDRED," Ethan repeated. "Two. Hundred. PLUS""" he gestured at Perses, """an ACTUAL Titan. What part of this aren't you getting?"
Perses had been silent through all this, watching. Listening. Growing more and more intrigued.
Finally, he spoke, his voice cutting through the chatter like his halberd through flesh:
"This golden warrior. Tell me about him."
The room quieted. When a Titan spoke, you listened.
Luke chose his words carefully. "He arrived at camp a month ago. Unknown origins. Can't read Ancient Greek. Manifests golden armor that no one's seen before. His divine signature is... wrong. Foreign. Not Greek."
"Not Greek?" Perses' eyes narrowed. "Then what?"
"Unknown. Chiron has theories but won't share them."
"And his combat ability?"
"High. Very high. He beat Clarisse La Rue on his first day. Manifested the armor when provoked. Nearly killed her and three others with a thermal shockwave."
"Thermal?" Perses' interest sharpened. "Fire?"
"Not exactly. More like.... Divine fire. Golden-red, like sunlight made solid."
"Sun-fire," Perses murmured. His hand tightened on his halberd. "Interesting."
"There's more," Luke continued. "Last week, he encountered Sybaris. The forty-foot dragon that was hunting him across Nevada and Utah. It had already killed six mortals."
"And?" Perses prompted.
"He stabbed it through the eye. Blinded it. While poisoned. Then ran away."
The room was silent now. Even the cocky traitors were paying attention.
"Last we know his SWORD is still stuck in that dragon's face," Luke finished. "And the dragon is HUNTING him. Has a personal vendetta. But he's still coming HERE."
"Without his primary weapon," Perses observed.
"Without his primary weapon," Luke confirmed. "He knows we're here. Knows this is a trap. And he's coming anyway."
"GOOD!" James broke the silence with a whoop. "GOOD! Let him come! Let him try! I WANT to fight this guy now! Show him what REAL power looks like!"
The others cheered, bloodlust rising.
Only Luke remained silent. Worried.
Perses studied the son of Hermes with those fractured-glass eyes.
"You fear him."
It wasn't a question.
Luke met his gaze. "I respect the threat he represents. There's a difference."
"Is there?" Perses smiled slowly. "Tell me, Castellan. If you're so concerned, why not request MORE forces from Lord Kronos? More monsters? More demigods?"
"Because""" Luke started.
"Because you were ordered NOT to," Perses finished. "Because this is a TEST. For ME."
His smile widened, showing teeth.
"Lord Kronos wants to see if I'm still WORTHY. If this weakened shell can still break enemies. If the Shattering Lord can still SHATTER."
He lifted his halberd, the massive weapon catching torchlight.
"One demigod. One CHILD. Against my army. Against my power. Against ME."
He looked at each of the traitors in turn.
"If he reaches this chamber, if he somehow survives the gauntlet of monsters and demigods and traps, if he stands before me with his little sword and his golden fire..."
Perses' voice dropped to something hungry and cruel.
"I will break him so completely that the Fates themselves won't recognize what's left. I will SHATTER his bones, his spirit, his very HOPE. And then I will sacrifice him ALONGSIDE the dragon to Lord Kronos."
The traitors cheered. The monsters howled.
Luke said nothing, still staring at the maps.
Perses noticed.
"You doubt me, Castellan?"
Luke looked up, meeting those terrible eyes.
"No, Lord Perses. I doubt HIM. I doubt that anyone""even a skilled demigod""can overcome these odds."
A pause.
"But I've learned never to underestimate opponents who seem insignificant."
Perses laughed. "Then it's fortunate I have EVERYTHING to prove."
He turned to address the entire room, and his expression had shifted from anticipation to something colder.
Contempt.
"Here is how this will unfold," Perses commanded, his voice flat and dismissive. "Full alert. Maximum force. No mercy. No games. No testing."
The traitors looked at each other, confused.
"Lord Perses?" James spoke up. "I thought you wanted to personnaly crush him-"
"I want him DEAD," Perses interrupted coldly. "Quickly. Efficiently. Without wasting any more of my TIME on this insignificant insect."
He slammed his halberd into the floor. The stone cracked.
"Do you understand what you're asking me? To personally FIGHT a demigod child? To lower myself to combat with a HALF-BLOOD?"
His fractured-glass eyes swept the room with disdain.
"I am PERSES. The Shattering Lord. I broke the walls of OLYMPUS. I fought GODS in the First War. I am a TITAN."
He pointed at the map with disgust.
"And you want me to waste my time, my DIGNITY, fighting some fourteen-year-old spawn? You want me to give him the HONOR of facing me in single combat?"
Perses leaned forward, and when he spoke, his voice was venomous:
"That would be like asking Zeus himself to personally swat a mosquito. BENEATH me. Completely and utterly BENEATH me."
Luke started to speak but Perses cut him off with a gesture.
"No. Here is what WILL happen. Ferry landing "FULL force. Forty monsters. Kill him there if possible."
He traced positions on the map with one massive finger.
"Main prison"another sixty. Cell blocks B and C"eighty more. D-Block""my personal guard of forty elites. Every position, MAXIMUM lethality. Every trap, ARMED. Every ambush point, MANNED."
"That's overkill" Ethan started.
"That's EFFICIENT," Perses snarled. "I want this pest CRUSHED. Overwhelmed. Destroyed. And I want it done WITHOUT wasting my time."
He turned to Luke and Ethan specifically.
"Castellan. Nakamura. You two will coordinate the killing blow."
"Sir?" Luke's eyes narrowed.
"You know him," Perses said. "You trained with him. You understand how he moves, how he thinks." His smile turned cruel. "Which means you're perfectly positioned to BETRAY that knowledge."
He pointed at them both.
"I want you "who he will RECOGNIZE" hidden. In reserve. Not on the front lines where he'll see you and be on guard."
"You want us to ambush him," Ethan said slowly, understanding dawning.
"I want you to wait until he's engaged with my forces," Perses corrected. "Wait until he's FIGHTING for his life. Wait until he's focused on the monsters in front of him."
The Titan's smile widened.
"And THEN"when his back is turned, when he's distracted, when he thinks he knows what he's facing"THEN you strike. From behind. From the shadows. With everything you have."
Luke's jaw tightened but he nodded. "Understood."
"The others," Perses continued, gesturing at the non-camp traitors, "will fight openly. They're unknown to him. But you from Camp that he knows of"YOU hide. YOU wait. YOU deliver the killing blow when he least expects it."
He leaned back, satisfied.
"I don't want a fair fight. I don't want a duel. I want a MASSACRE. I want this golden warrior broken, bleeding, and DEAD before he ever gets close enough to waste my time."
"And if he somehow survives all that?" James asked, almost amused by the impossibility.
Perses' voice dropped to absolute zero.
"Then""and ONLY then""will I deign to dirty my hands with his corpse. But I want him already broken. Already dying. So I can finish him with a single strike and return to my REAL work."
He looked at Luke and Ethan specifically.
"Bring me his body. Broken and DEAD. Do this, and you prove your worth to Lord Kronos. Fail"""
He let the threat hang.
"""and I will be very disappointed. And you do NOT want to disappoint a Titan."
Silence filled the room.
Then Ethan grinned, vicious and eager. "Gladly, Lord Perses. It'll be a pleasure to gut him from behind."
"Luke?" Perses pressed.
The son of Hermes met those terrible eyes. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it off his face.
"As you command, Lord Perses. We'll bring you his corpse."
"Good." Perses straightened, dismissing them all with a gesture. "Now get to your positions. All of you. And remember""FULL ALERT. NO MERCY. This ends quickly."
The traitors filed out, already discussing ambush points and timing.
Only Luke lingered for a moment at the door.
"Lord Perses," he said quietly. "For what it's worth... he's better than you think."
"He's a DEMIGOD," Perses shot back. "And I have two hundred monsters, seven enhanced traitors, and the element of surprise. His skill is IRRELEVANT."
Luke said nothing more. Just nodded and left.
Alone in the command center, Perses returned to his maps.
Beneath me, he thought again. Fighting children is beneath me.
But killing this one quickly? That serves the mission. Gets him out of the way. Lets me return to breaking the dragon.
Efficient.
Professional.
Dignified.
He told himself that.
Almost believed it.
But deep down""in the part of him that had fought gods, that had stood against Olympus itself""there was a small voice whispering.
A voice that said: If he's truly insignificant, why are you mobilizing EVERYTHING?
Why are you stacking the deck so heavily?
Perses crushed that voice.
He was a TITAN.
He feared nothing.
Especially not some half-blood child with delusions of heroism.
This will be over in minutes, he told himself.
Minutes.
The Waiting Game
(One Hour Later - Hidden Command Post)
Luke and Ethan sat in a converted cell in B-Block, away from the main forces. Their "ambush staging area," Perses had called it.
Really, it was just a waiting room for betrayal.
The cell had been cleared of bunks and filled with weapons instead. Dragon-scale armor hung on racks. Enhanced blades gleamed in weapon stands. A bronze mirror on the wall showed multiple Iris-message views of the fortress""security cameras, demigod style.
Ethan was sharpening his twin blades, the sound rhythmic and somehow calming.
Luke stared at one of the mirror views showing the bay. Watching for a golden light that hadn't appeared yet.
"You're thinking too much," Ethan said without looking up.
"I'm thinking the right amount."
"You always do this. Overthink. Overcomplicate." Ethan tested his blade's edge against his thumb""it drew blood immediately. He smiled. "Sometimes the answer is simple: we have overwhelming force, he has nothing We win. End of story."
Luke didn't respond.
"Still worried about Percy?" Ethan asked, changing topics.
That got Luke's attention. "Why would I be worried about Percy?"
"Because you've been checking that Iris-message connection to the quest route every hour." Ethan pointed at another mirror showing a faint magical trace""the tracking spell Luke had embedded in the winged shoes. "Because you keep muttering about timing. Because you GAVE him those shoes."
Luke's jaw tightened.
"The shoes are fine," he said.
"The shoes are CURSED," Ethan corrected with a grin. "Dragging him straight to Tartarus on Lord Kronos's command. It's brilliant, honestly. Give the hero a gift. Let him trust you. Let him FLY toward his own doom."
He laughed""sharp and bitter.
"The look on his face when he realizes his 'friend' killed him? That's going to be BEAUTIFUL."
Luke said nothing, staring at the magical trace. Percy and his team were somewhere in the midwest by now. Moving west.
Walking right into the trap.
I'm sorry, Percy, Luke thought but didn't say. But this is bigger than you. Bigger than all of us.
"You're having doubts," Ethan observed.
"I'm not"
"You ARE." Ethan set down his blades, his single eye fixing on Luke with uncomfortable intensity. "And that's going to get you killed. Or worse""get US killed when you hesitate at the wrong moment."
"I won't hesitate."
"You'd better not."
"I know the plan."
"Knowing and DOING are different things." Ethan's voice hardened. "The gods abandoned us, Luke. ALL of us. Your dad? Ignored you. Let your mom go insane. Left you with NOTHING."
He gestured around them.
"This? This is our chance to MATTER. To have POWER. To make them PAY for what they did. So when that golden warrior shows up, when you see his face, when he maybe even asks for help"""
Ethan picked up his blades again.
"""you'd better remember who your REAL friends are. And it's not him."
Silence fell between them.
Luke wanted to argue. Wanted to say something about honor, about right and wrong, about""
But what was the point?
He'd made his choice months ago. When Kronos first whispered to him. When the Titan Lord promised a new world, a BETTER world, where heroes weren't disposable tools.
Too late to turn back now.
"I'll do what needs to be done," Luke said quietly.
"Good." Ethan returned to sharpening. "Because Lord Perses made it very clear""we bring him the body, or WE become bodies. And I don't know about you, but I'm rather attached to being alive."
Luke almost laughed at that. Almost.
Instead, he checked the mirror views again. Ferry landing""forty monsters in position, trying to look casual and failing. Main prison""monsters hiding in cells, in shadows, in corners. Every ambush point manned.
Cell Blocks B and C""
His eyes stopped.
Marcus Greenwood was using his plant powers to create living tripwires of vines across a corridor. Andrea and Melody were coordinating charm-speak attack patterns. James was testing his strength by casually doing single handed pushups
The twins, Leo and Lucia, were arguing about who got to land the first hit.
Everyone was ready.
Everyone was confident.
And Luke couldn't shake the feeling that they were all making a terrible mistake.
"You feel it too," Ethan said suddenly.
"Feel what?"
"That something's WRONG." Ethan's voice was quiet now. Serious. "Like we're missing something. Like there's a variable we haven't accounted for."
Luke looked at him. "Hah now you're worried?"
"I'm CAUTIOUS. There's a difference." Ethan sheathed his blades. "Two hundred monsters. Seven enhanced demigods. One Titan. The odds are so stacked in our favor it's STUPID. Which means"""
"""either he's walking to his death, or we are," Luke finished.
They looked at each other.
Then Ethan shook his head, forcing a laugh. "Nah. We're paranoid. Too much stress, makes you jittery. He's one demigod. ONE. What's he going to do, kill two hundred monsters single-handedly?"
"Yeah," Luke agreed, trying to convince himself. "That would be impossible."
"Totally impossible."
They sat in silence, watching the mirrors.
Waiting.
The fortress was quiet. Almost peaceful. Monsters in position. Traitors ready. Titan prepared.
Everything was perfect.
Too perfect.
Luke's hand drifted to Backbiter's hilt.
Come on, he thought. Get here. Let's get this over with. Let's""
KABOOM.
The entire fortress SHOOK.
Not a little tremor. A full-on EARTHQUAKE-level shake that sent weapons clattering off racks and nearly knocked both of them off their feet.
"WHAT THE—" Ethan grabbed the wall for balance.
Luke scrambled to the mirror views.
The ferry landing camera was just... GONE. The entire magical connection severed. Where forty monsters had been positioned, there was now just static.
"Report!" Luke shouted into his communication mirror. "Ferry landing, REPORT!"
Static.
More static.
Then a dracaena's panicked voice: "—FIRE! SO MUCH—THE ENTIRE—AAAHHH—"
The connection cut off.
Complete silence.
Ethan and Luke stared at the dead mirror.
"What..." Ethan's voice was shaky. "What just HAPPENED?"
"I don't know." Luke's hand was white-knuckled on Backbiter's hilt.
They looked at the remaining mirror views. Main prison level. Cell blocks. D-Block where Perses waited.
All the cameras were still active.
All the positions still manned.
Two hundred monsters minus forty at the ferry landing.
One hundred sixty remaining.
"Could be Hunters," Ethan said, trying to convince himself. "Maybe they attacked after all—"
"With WHAT?" Luke gestured at the static. "That sounded like—" He stopped. Couldn't finish.
Because he didn't know what it sounded like.
He'd never heard anything like that before.
"Positions," Luke said finally, his voice tight. "Get the others. Full alert. Something's coming."
"What's coming?"
"I DON'T KNOW." Luke's voice cracked. "Just—positions. NOW."
Ethan ran.
Luke stood alone, staring at the static where the ferry landing used to be.
Forty monsters. Gone. In seconds.
He didn't know how. But something was coming.
And for the first time since joining Kronos, Luke wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake.
END CHAPTER 18