SECTION ONE: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤.
CHAPTER FIVE—0001.

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AS MICAH PLUMMETED FROM THE SKY, THE ONLY THOUGHT HE COULD GRASP WAS OF HIS FATHER. A past memory sliced through his blurred vision with the sharpness of a razor blade against a veil, slicing through the curtain separating Micah from Hiroki and the life that now kept them apart. It was a memory of laughter and warmth—his father's hands lifting him up, the strength of his fingers brushing his ribs as the god urged him to spread his wings and fly for the very first time.

His forearms had been scraped raw that day; he hadn't remembered that.

Clouds whipped past him as they shot downward, the wind roaring in his ears like a violent gale. He could only think of how odd it felt to recall Hiroki's life at all. He could only feel the weight of his father's absence in the emptiness of the sky around him.

Micah allowed himself to fall.

Perhaps as he neared the earth, he'd feel Hypnos' embrace drawing him in. Maybe his father would appear for the first time since his disappearance, reaching out to save him one last time, as he had once done for Hiroki all those years ago.

But it was Jason's arm that attempted to wrap itself around Micah's abdomen, seeking to bring him close to Silena and Leo, wanting to gather all of them close in an attempt to slow their descent with his powers.

"Festus!" The son of Jupiter screamed out into the open sky. "Help us!"

They crashed like blazing comets, colliding with the dragon's back.

The force of the impact surged through Micah, snatching his breath away.

Bile rose in his throat as he struggled to maintain consciousness, the pain searing through his body like claws raking across his skin. No matter how much he tried to swallow it, a sharp cry tore through his lips.

"Micah? Micah?" Silena called desperately, dazed. She fought to sit up, her hair a wild tangle across her face, her eyes wide with fear and concern as Festus carried them away from Aeolia's fortress. Jason steadied her while Leo's heavy breaths filled her ears.

The son of Hypnos did not reply.

Jason had managed to soften their landing, but—Micah had slipped, hadn't he? He hadn't held on to them.

When her legs remained too weak to support her, Silena crawled her way to Micah frantically; he was upright, with shallow breaths and trembling shoulders. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached out to touch Micah's arm, grasping his chin to try and make eye contact with him.

His eyes remained tightly shut; golden tears leaked from the corners, carving glistening trails down his pallid cheeks. Silena's fear intensified as her gaze followed his trembling hands down, down—until it fell upon his ankle.

It was grotesquely twisted, bent at an inhuman angle; the skin, inflammed and stretched to its limit, tore around the bone that pierced through with a sickening protrusion. Blood oozed relentlessly through the fabric of his pants, thick and viscous, soaking through his pants and cascading onto Festus' mechanical scales.

Silena's breath caught in her throat. "Okay," she said shakily. "Okay, okay."

Jason and Leo had rushed over, the son of Hephaestus nearly retching at the sight of the mangled limb. The son of Jupiter, remaining calm as he assessed the situation, tried to soothe Silena's rising panic. "We need ambrosia," he said, his voice steady. "You will be okay, Micah."

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head in terror. "No, no ambrosia! He can't! It'll hurt him even more. We need to—to—" Her mind raced, desperate for an alternative, struggling to find a solution. She couldn't think of anything, the panic threatening to overwhelm her, a hand rising to her mouth as tears threatened to spill over.

What could they do to save him without ambrosia? Silena's heart pounded in her chest as she looked to Jason for guidance, but he was just as lost as she was. The seconds ticked by, the scent of blood following them no matter how fast Festus flew. "We need to stabilize it," Jason said finally, his voice tight. "Bandages, something to stop the bleeding until we can get help."

Leo snapped into action, rummaging through his toolbelt. "I'll scrounge up some metal bits. We can rig them into a splint, easy peasy!" Silena nodded, relieved to have a plan in motion. "We can wrap it with anything we have—clothes, rags—just until we reach camp."

But Micah snapped open his eyes through the strain, tear-soaked lashes fluttering as he tried to focus on Silena's face. "Chicago," he croaked. "Crown Fountain."

Silena stared back at him, her heart sinking as she tried to discern the severity of Micah's condition. Was he worried that he would not make it back to Camp Half-blood in time? Did any of the old wounds on his back reopen and pose a threat to his health now? How could she help him—how could she ever help him? "What's in Chicago?" She sought like a prayer. "Is there someone we can contact for help? Micah?"

He gave a faint nod, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Crown Fountain," he repeated, his voice barely audible. When Silena took hold of his hand, it was cold—not even the ambrosia burning within him seemed to warm him up.

Silena swallowed hard and turned to Leo, heart pounding with worry.

"You heard him," she said urgently. "We need to get to Chicago."

Festus descended into an open expanse between a lake and the city skyline, landing on a field of ice and salted pathways. The dragon's scorching metal feet hissed and sizzled as they made contact with the snow, sending up tendrils of steam. Micah's skin resembled marble in the moonlight; his breath hung in the frigid air, lips drained of color, yet the heaviness of his brow persisted. His golden eyes, unwavering, were fixed on the faraway city lights.

Jason carried most of Micah's weight, his shoulder bearing the strain as they trudged forward. Silena kept a steady hand on his waist, helping him approach the Crown Fountain, which had mostly emptied, with only a few spots of water beginning to freeze. The drain hole in the middle of it remained clear, a dark void amidst the icy surface. It was big enough for a person, and Jason seemed to understand the significance of it as he glanced back at Micah.

"I'll go first," he said. "I'll help you through."

Uselessly, Micah wondered if his response would differ if he still remembered everything that had happened between them; he knew it wouldn't. The son of Rome was kind. No deity could take that goodness from Jason, not even one who could alter Aeolus' allegiance with a mere whisper.

Micah nodded silently, feeling a sickness deep within—broken by guilt, battered by that stubborn, lingering hope, beyond repair and consumed by a longing to be someone else entirely. Despite it all, he followed Jason into the dark void.

Still, he did not warn him of Medea.

They walked through the brickwork tunnel, and Micah remained silent; they entered the polished elevators, and still, Micah did not tell Jason. When the doors slid open on the fourth floor and Silena at the sight of the department store, nails gripping his forearm, the son of Hypnos just observed as Jason stepped out first, sword in hand.

Be careful, he wished he could say; if you die, it will be to her.

But the words caught in his throat as Jason turned to him with a dependable smile, his arm holding him upright without trepidation. It could be delirium, a lapse of his sanity from the pain of his mangled ankle, but Micah stared at Jason through blurred eyes, at his close-shaven hair, and the invincible shoulders set straight regardless of having forgotten that he had once toppled the iron throne of Kronos, and he thought desperately, You can't die here—because even with their past antipathy, Jason and Micah had always shared an unspoken pact to stand as the champions of their generation, the first to fight and the last to fall.

It had been their unspoken pact since the beginning.

They could not let each other down now, not when their mistress had just aligned their fates.

The thought of it alone left him grasping for every breath, his chest rising and falling with increasing urgency. Jason might fall to Medea, and all Micah could do was hope he wouldn't be reduced to writhing in his own vomit over an injury that seemed so insignificant compared to the countless others he had endured over the years.

Though the balconies overlooking the grand atrium of the supernatural mall were distracting, Silena stayed focused on Micah; his struggle to maintain composure didn't escape her. She laid a firm, comforting hand on his lower back. "What are we looking for?" she asked, her voice calm despite the dazzling kaleidoscope ceiling above feeling like it was closing in on them.

Swallowing the dryness in his throat, Micah inhaled deeply, searching for clarity. "I need..." He trailed off, lightheaded from the pain. He had been here before, so many times that he could navigate Medea's Department Store with his eyes closed, knowing every potion on the fourth level and each type of weapon for sale on the third—yet, he could not think of anything at all, except that the constellation for Eridanus on the mosaic wall was missing a star.

Micah's heart raced, pounding louder than his own breath.

The air laden with the fragrance of dark roses, black currant, and myrrh.

"I believe he is looking for ambrosia," a voice mused from behind them.

Jason, Leo, and Silena jolted, startled by the woman's sudden, unnoticed presence.

Medea smiled amicably at them, her long, black hair elegantly swept over one shoulder. The elegant black dress and sparkling diamond earrings enhanced her timeless elegance; the fine lines and faint creases around her eyes lent her a fleeting hint of humanity, even. But her hands, adorned with intricate jewelry, were clasped together with a grace that Micah did no longer trust, and beneath the poised and immaculate exterior, her eyes held a glint of something unsettling—an intense, almost predatory gleam that pierced through the veneer of her beauty. It was a cold, sharp gaze that sent a shiver racing down the spine of the son of Hypnos, exposing everything he needed to know.

"Or is it nectar this time?" Medea asked with a hint of mockery, her eyes glinting as she studied Micah with feigned pity. "Though I doubt it will do much for your injury." She sighed dramatically. "I was starting to worry, you know. It's been so long since your last visit. I even stocked up on ambrosia for you, but you never came. When I heard the rumor that you've been mingling with mortals more frequently, I dismissed it with a laugh. But now, seeing you like this, it seems it was true after all. With the company you've chosen, I'm hardly surprised you ended up in this state. Mortals are so fragile, aren't they? And now you've caught it."

Jason adjusted his grip, lifting Micah higher as he began to slip forward; his breathing became labored.

It was difficult to inhale when Medea was right. Nyx would never have permitted this. His grandmother would not have allowed him to become injured in the first place. She would've caught him even if he had wanted to fall. His grandmother would have protected him. She would've done what Hypnos had failed to do time and time again.

"What else here could help him?" Silena interjected, her eyes fixed on the Priestess with apprehension. Her voice had taken on a sweetened edge, a faint attempt at charmspeaking, a mist of perfume lost in the musk of lit incense.

The Priestess simply smiled. "You're sweet," she said, her gaze lingering on Silena's face. "Of course, we offer several items that could help, but they come at a price. But well, given the Ambassador's reappointment, I imagine Olympus will have no qualms about the cost."

The disgust in her voice was unmistakable; If Aelous had shifted allegiances, then Medea must have too. He had anticipated that the Priestess of Hecate would do so eventually; he had simply hoped, naively and stupidly, that it wouldn't happen so soon. He should've known. Micah should have known.

How had he grown so incompetent?

Micah choked down the acrid taste of regret that clung to his throat, his eyes squeezing shut as drips of sweat traced paths down his forehead.

When he finally opened them again, he found a man standing beside Medea.

"Olympus? Don't make me laugh! Charge it to the House of Midnight's exchequer." He instructed the Princess of Colchis, his puckish grin widening as he carefully smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit. Micah's heart sank; the god's interest then shifted to him, and he said with a flourish, "We always take care of our own! The kid knows his family's got his back. Don't you, Micah?"

Void eyes bore into him.

Micah shivered under the weight of that gaze.

"Uncle Momus," he greeted, his voice wavering slightly.

"Oh," drawled the god of satire, raising an eyebrow, "seems like someone could use a new lesson in confidence. Feeling a bit sheepish, are we? Am I becoming your 'cringe-worthy uncle' today? Oh, I do apologize, little prince, but you know how it is—there's always something to discuss with you, but never enough time to get it all out." Momus grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. "It must be destiny that we meet here, don't you think? A splendid coincidence? Either way, let's seize the moment! Why not have a heart-to-heart with me while your friends shop around with Medea? It's been a while since you visited, my nephew! We have so much to catch up on."

"What are you doing?" Jason hissed as Micah attempted to step forward, holding him back with a firm grip on his arm. The son of Hypnos brushed off Jason's hand, balancing all of his weight on his other foot as he stared intently at Momus. "Uncle is right," Micah replied, his eyes never leaving Momus. "All of you go with Medea. Find Gorgon blood—I'll be fine with that."

The Priestess of Hecate raised an eyebrow at Micah's response, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "What an excellent choice," she said, her voice low and smooth. "Come on, children, let us find the right vial in the potion section."

Jason opened his mouth to protest, until Momus stepped forward with a grin, taking a hold of Micah's shoulder. "Don't worry, young one," the god reassured him. "It might not be the same up there, but in the Underworld, family is sacred. He will be alright with me."

The son of Jupiter's eyes flickered down to Micah's ankle, his jaw tightening as he took in the sight, his gaze shifting from Micah's injured foot to his face. Micah's slight nod was the only assurance he needed. With a careful, deliberate motion, Jason began to ease his grip on Micah, his muscles tensed with reluctance. He only fully released Micah when Momus stepped forward, his strong arms enveloping Micah's back with a steady hold. The reassurance of Momus's firm grip allowed Jason to finally let go, though his eyes lingered with lingering concern.

"If you need anything, just call. I'll be able to hear you," Jason told him before backing away; the three demigods then moved together, following Medea as she led the way.

Once they disappeared, his uncle's arm fell.

Micah exhaled, struggling to maintain his balance on a single foot.

"Alright, alright," Momus chuckled, stepping back a few paces. "Give your uncle a proper greeting."

The son of Hypnos glanced at his uncle wearily, a tremor of uncertainty passing through him. Momus gave him a reassuring smile; it was compassionate, sickening, patient and vile and mocking all at once. "Come on, Micah, don't be shy," Momus urged, gesturing for him to approach.

Micah took a deep breath.

Afraid, he lowered his injured foot to the ground, wincing prematurely as pain shot through his leg before he pressed firmer, settling his weight on it.

The pain was excruciating, twisting his insides with a nauseating force. He forced himself to stand despite the grotesque crunch of bone grinding against bone, his body trembling violently as blood gushed from the wound in a hot, pulsing torrent that overwhelmed the ragged cloth meant to stem it. A cry erupted from his lips—sharp, high-pitched, and so out of character for someone who had long accepted beatings and taunts with stoic silence.

Still—still, with agonizing slowness, he limped towards his uncle, strangled sobs clawing at his throat. "Uncle," he gasped, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his face. He raised a trembling hand to his chest, his head hanging low in a desperate, pained bow.

The god clapped, each lazy applause echoing through the silent mall.

"That's my boy!" Momus said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Standing tall no matter what!"

Micah collapsed abruptly, crashing to the ground at his uncle's feet.

His body trembled uncontrollably, breaths coming in ragged gasps as he fought to stay conscious.

Momus chuckled, his voice cold and detached. "You were doing so well," he said absently, running a hand through Micah's sweat-soaked hair. "So well, Micah. Truly, you should be killed for what you did to Mother. But first, there are messes that need cleaning up—yours and your father's."

Micah's eyes grew unfocused as he stared blankly at the ground, the weight of his uncle's words and his own pain rendering him numb.

"I don't know what game you are playing with Hera," the god of satire continued, his grip tightening on Micah's hair, lifting it like a ragdoll. "But don't you dare forget the debt you owe to your family. We need Nyx to keep the balance in our favor, and you will do whatever it takes to ensure that happens. Your loyalty to your bloodline is non-negotiable, no matter what distractions may come your way."

He didn't wait for a response, yanking down on Micah's head until he was forced to nod in agreement. Momus's hand then trailed down to Micah's chin, fingers pressing harshly into his cheeks until Micah's mouth fell open. "'I will save my dad, Uncle!'" Momus mocked, his voice a cruel imitation in a high-pitched whine.

With a look of repulsion, the god released him with enough force to leave deep red marks on Micah's skin before turning away.

"Words are cheap, Micah. Actions speak louder than promises," Momus sneered, looming over him. "Remember that as you carry out your duties. Save your father and wake up Mother before it's too late. Your family's fate rests in your hands, little prince. Don't let us down again."

With a final glare, Momus disappeared into the shadows.

Micah did not move.

If tears leaked from his eyes, they went unnoticed.

He thought of his family. Of his grandmother trapped in eternal slumber and his father imprisoned by an unknown enemy. Hera in a cage; Jason without memories. Percy in Rome.

He tried to clench his fist, but his fingers stayed limp, defying his will.

He couldn't afford that; failure wasn't an option.

Micah shifted his weight to his elbow, Hera's words echoing in his mind: save her, and Ethan would return. He inhaled deeply—so I will save her, Micah decided, biting down his tongue when his ankle protested the movement. He forced himself to sit up still; I will save Hypnos, he decided, ignoring the pain shooting up his leg as he pushed himself to his feet. Themis will rebuild Olympus, he decided, and the House of Midnight will be fine.

Micah swayed for a moment.

He breathed in; he thought of Percy.

Greed steadied him.

He will have it all.

In the distance, the screeching of sun dragons pierced the air.

By the time the noxious fumes reached him, Micah had already gone through the weaponry, crammed his pockets with amulets, and packed whatever he could into bags he'd scavenged from a café he had broken into.

He could hear running footsteps approaching him.

The faint screaming of Medea echoed in the background, too.

When a resounding crash shook the ground and Festus broke in through the stained glass ceiling, multi-colored shards raining down around him, Micah knew his time was up. He allowed Jason to drag him onto the back of the mechanical dragon without any resistance. And as they flew away, and the son of Jupiter handed him a vial of Gorgon's blood, he drank without hesitation, not even considering that it could be poison.

When he didn't die, he bent down to adjust his ankle, setting it in place with a grimace. "Does it hurt?" Silena asked warily from her seat, watching him closely. Micah shook his head.

"Medea is dead?" He asked, looking down at the vial in his hand.

The son of Jupiter shook his head. "She said, 'Death no longer holds her' thanks to her patron. Any idea what that means?"

"With Thanatos missing, the Doors of Death are left unguarded." Micah told them, a heaviness settling in his chest. "If those doors are opened, anyone who dies could come back to life."

"Her patron kidnapped Thanatos?" Jason asked, his voice filled with disbelief. At the same moment, Leo shouted, "She works for the Dirt Woman!"

Micah clenched his jaw, urgency tightening his features.

He had never fully grasped Gaea as a real threat before, viewing the primordial goddess as an abstract, distant concept—more a void than a tangible danger. But she had taken his father and uncle somehow, even if she remained asleep; she had taken Hera, and now she was trying to manipulate the very fabric of life and death. He could no longer dismiss her, even though the fear was paralyzing.

"We need to get Hera out of that cage by tonight," he said, struggling to silence his uncle's echoing voice in his mind. He would remain loyal—save Hera and stay true to his family. He'll give everyone everything, from his skin to his last bone; he just needed time to figure out how.

"So we're just—doing it?" Leo exclaimed with disbelief. "Just heading straight into a giant's lair without a plan?"

"We have a plan," Micah answered. "We're going in to save Hera, no matter what. That's the only option."

Festus eased them onto the crest of the mountain.

There, where clouds and mist swirled around them, a past memory sliced through his blurred vision with the sharpness of a razor blade against a veil, slicing through the curtain separating Micah from Hiroki and the life that now kept them apart.

The first time Hiroki flew without his father's guidance, he had been terrified.

He had refused to do it, distraught by the fear of crashing to the ground and hurting himself. Micah could not afford to have Hiroki's fragility now, so as they caught sight of a fire in the center of a forest clearing, the son of Hypnos did not stop, except to grab something from his pocket.

The ambrosia melted in his tongue like sweet honey.

Readjusting his grip on the dull sword he had taken from a mannequin, Micah walked toward Enceladus with the fearlessness of a titan ready to face a giant head-on. The sky itself seemed to darken by the looming presence of the monster, and Micah has had enough of being looked down upon.

Jason followed him to the frontline, raising his golden lance and hissing, "Are you insane?"

Micah responded with a nod. "It's possible," he admitted.

At the sound of their voices, Enceladus stopped chanting at the flames.

He turned toward them and grinned, revealing fangs like a saber-toothed tiger's.

He towered over them like a terrifying colossus, enormous at thirty feet with bronze skin smeared with layers of ash like a corpse that had been dragged from a pyre. His face was a nightmarish, crudely shaped like an unfinished clay sculpture and eyes that blazed with an unnatural white light. His matted dreadlocks, covered with bone, hung heavily to his shoulders. His chest was shielded by heavy bronze armor, and his monstrous arms, streaked with erupting veins, bulged with strength. From the waist down, Enceladus was covered in repulsive green scales, with dragon-like claws instead of feet. He held a spear with a molten red tip, the heat radiating off of it like a suspended asteroid ready to strike at any moment.

"Well," the giant rumbled. "What a nice surprise."

The fire cracked and roared,

Micah raised his sword; "Shut the fuck up," he spat.

Enceladus roared with laughter. "I've forgotten how funny godlings are. When we rule the world, I think I'll keep some of your kind around. You can entertain me while I eat all the other mortals."

Enceladus opened his mouth wide, and his teeth began to glow.

"Scatter!" Leo yelled, taking cover with Silena.

Jason and Micah dove to the left as the giant blew fire. 

Before they could reorient themselves, Enceladus drove his spear into the ground, sending a shudder through the entire mountain. "I didn't expect you all to stay alive this long, but it doesn't matter!" The giant laughed, and from the edge of the woods, half a dozen ogre-like creatures emerged, emerging straight from the earth. While smaller than Enceladus, at about seven feet tall, they were no less menacing. Each ogre had six arms: two in the usual places, an additional pair sprouting from the tops of their shoulders, and another set emerging from the sides of their ribcages.

Leo clawed at Micah's pants. "What—what are those?"

The son of Hypnos slapped him off. "Gegenees."

"In English?" Leo asked.

"The Earthborn," Silena replied. "Six-armed giants who fought the first Jason."

"Very good, my dear!" Enceladus sounded delighted. "They used to live on a miserable place in Greece called Bear Mountain. Mount Diablo is much nicer! They are lesser children of Mother Earth, but they serve their purpose. They're good with construction equipment—"

"Vroom, vroom!" One of the Earthborn bellowed, and the others took up the chant, each moving his six hands as though driving a car, as if it were some kind of weird religious ritual. "Vroom, vroom!"

"Yes, thank you, boys," Enceladus said. "They also have a score to settle with heroes. Especially anyone named Jason."

"Yay-son!" the Earthborn screamed. They all picked up clumps of earth, which solidified in their hands, turning into nasty pointed stones. "Where Yay-son? Kill Yay-son!"

"Oh, Lord, they're stupid," Micah lamented; if Percy had been here, he would've rolled his eyes and smiled at the ridiculousness of it all. But it was Jason standing by his side, his expression steely and resolute as he confronted the Earthborn.

"Ready?" The son of Jupiter asked him.

Micah grinned. "You were twelve, by the way."

Jason swung his lance at a monster, piercing it straight through the head before turning to Micah. "What?" He asked, confused by the sudden mention of his age.

The son of Hypnos stared at him, each Earthborn that attempted to approach him falling to the ground with a yawn-induced thud. "The first time you landed a hit on me," Micah clarified, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. "You were twelve years old. You were asked to join the First Cohort, but you turned it down. I wanted to break your arm so bad for that."

Jason looked at him, bewildered. "Why would you want to break my arm over something like that?"

Micah's smile; it was twisted and awkward. It was the most genuine expression of emotion Jason had ever seen on his face. "I've always hated good people," he confessed. "And you were the best of them all."

Micah lunged directly at Enceladus.

Jason shook his head in disbelief; he still followed.

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !
percy at 12: i want to marry micah forever n ever pls
jason at 12: I Need To Kill Him Now

LOLOOL i love them also thank god next chapter is the last lost hero chap also here is how i picture baby hiroki and hypnos (let him have massive wings idc):

okay bye!!1