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

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AMONG ALL THE MINDLESS DEMIGODS HE HAD ENCOUNTERED, MICAH CONSIDERED JASON TO BE THE MOST PATHETIC. This feeling wasn't a critique of his demeanor, even though he was admittedly a bit bland to be around; it was merely a realization that had lingered in Micah's mind since Poseidon uttered the name of his son all those years ago—of how awful it must be to be Jason Grace.

Truly, what Micah felt for him was pity.
fter all, what made the son of Jupiter truly pathetic was his own greatness.

How awful must it be, being separated from his family to be raised by wolves, driven to surpass the unattainable standards set by the gods. To have every trait needed to be the perfect soldier bitten into his skin—to sacrifice everything for others—for leadership—yet still fall short to a kid with no formal training or experience who appeared out of nowhere. Just to be eclipsed by a child born to a loving mother on the opposite side of the country, destined to forever linger in his shadow without even realizing it.

It was such a cruel twist of fate that Micah couldn't help but feel sorry. Percy had achieved what Jason had dedicated his entire life to pursuing without even wanting it. What defined Jason as good to the gods elevated Percy to greatness; where Jason failed, Percy succeeded beyond anyone's expectations.

Not that it mattered in the end, he supposes.

They were both taken without notice, two pieces on a chessboard moved without a word.

Micah doesn't have the patience to play anymore.

Resting against one of his Hellhounds, he watched Annabeth's efforts to communicate with the three strays he had brought to camp. He crossed his arms, studying them intently. Having spent enough time with Aphrodite, he could recognize her semblance in all of her children, but he still couldn't determine who would be claiming the smallest of the three. He didn't have the mind to dwell on it too long; no matter where his gaze shifted, it would return to Jason.

The son of Jupiter seemed—small. Unsure of himself, faltering in his decisions, glancing at his companions for reassurance. His questions were too many, his doubts too loud. He bore no resemblance to the hero of Rome he was raised to be, as if he had forgotten everything that Lupa had taught him. As if—

"You lost your memories," Micah realized with a growing smile.

The son of Jupiter stopped speaking mid-sentence, turning to him with a desperation in his blue eyes that Micah had never seen before. "I did," Jason confirmed. "I don't remember anything before waking up in that bus with Piper and Leo. But you know me. You mentioned a name, Reyna—"

Unable to contain himself, Micah laughed, steadying himself against his hellhound as he contemplated Hera's actions. "I have to applaud your mistress." He told Jason. "It's like she can't resist the urge make your life utterly miserable when given the chance."

The blonde-haired demigod's face darkened. "I'm guessing we're not friends?" He asked rigidly.

The son of Hypnos shook his head with a smile on his face. "I like you just fine, Jason. You've always hated me, though." He answered. "But I do supposeI all those fights certainly had a negative impact on any potential friendship we might have had.."

Jason's eyes narrowed as he took a step back, clearly on edge. "What are you talking about?"

Micah kept his tone light. "Calm down; I'm not your enemy. I barely even grazed you that day, so let's just say that our paths have crossed before, and we've reached a truce of sorts. We should keep it that way."

Jason's expression remained guarded as he studied him, clearly not convinced by his nonchalant response, but a crowd of campers arrived, disrupting any potential response he might have made. Upon seeing the son of Hypnos accompanied by a hellhound, several exchanged wary glances. "Didn't he burn down Hera's temple?" One whispered to another, igniting a ripple of unease through the group. Micah arched an eyebrow at the accusation, disliking the doubt; obviously, he was the one responsible.

Nonetheless, he remained silent until a familiar squeal of delight caught his attention.

Her long black hair, tied up in a high ponytail, swayed behind her as Silena Beauregard hurried toward him. A wide grin extended from ear to ear as she wrapped him in a warm embrace. "You're here! I missed you so much!" she exclaimed, her words filled with genuine happiness. She seemed better than the last time he saw her, less mournful and more alive.

Micah brushed aside the stray strands that had fallen out of her ponytail, returning her smile. "I missed you too," he replied. "But I can't stay long."

The morning light illuminated her features, casting a soft glow around her; she looked beautiful. "You'll get him back," Silena reassured him, her conviction cutting through any doubt that could ever cloud his mind. "Don't worry about Nico while you're gone. I'll make sure he's taken care of."

Before he could reply, a collection of gasps interrupted their conversation as they turned to see a group of campers staring in shock at the smallest of the trio. A holographic image of a hammer covered in flame materialized above his head, prompting the campers to instinctively back away in fear. As the son of Hephaestus yelped, Micah narrowed his eyes, hearing the whispers of a curse being muttered under the breath of one of the campers. "What are they talking about?" he asked Silena quietly.

She grew crestfallen, clutching Micah's hand tightly for comfort. Her attention did not leave Leo as he attempted to dodge the claiming symbol looming above him. "After Charlie passed away, Cabin Nine started believing that Hephaestus cursed them to never complete another invention successfully," Silena explained, her voice filled with sorrow. "I think... They're just grieving, trying to make sense of their loss by blaming it on something supernatural, but you never know with demigods."

Micah tightened his grip on her hand briefly, opting for silence. His mind worked to establish connections between everything—Roman and Greek, Jason and Percy, a son of Hephaestus and a daughter of Aphrodite. Something was missing; he did not like the feeling of uncertainty.

Pressing a hurried kiss to Silena's forehead, he said goodbye to her and approached the son of Jupiter. Noticing Annabeth's fixated gaze on Jason's tattoo, Micah instinctively covered it with his hand, tightly gripping Jason's forearm. He spoke undeviatingly, "We need to talk to Chiron. Jason, come with me."

Annabeth scowled. "You're not the only one looking for him, Micah—"

"I don't give a fuck about anything you have to say right now," the son of Hypnos interrupted her. "Take the other on a tour, go read a book or whatever you like doing when you aren't annoying me. I'm taking Jason," And the daughter of Athena kept calling after him, demanding explanations and other useless details, but Micah was already striding away, hauling Jason along to find Chiron.

"Hold up!" The Roman complained, standing stiffly, as if every muscle in his body was protesting being in Camp Half-blood. "I have questions I need you to answer; you can't just leave me in the dark like this." Micah cast a glance back at Jason, raising an eyebrow. "Three—Pythagoras' number," he responded, coming to a halt. "I'll answer three questions,"

"How do you know me?" Jason demanded immediately, his electric blue eyes locking onto vivid gold.

The son of Hypnos sighed impatiently. "I already told you."

"No, I want a proper answer," Jason insisted, crossing his arms. Micah felt the urge to rip his tongue right out of his skull. Despite matching his height and possessing more muscle, the son of Jupiter could never defeat him in a fight if Micah played dirty enough—but Hera chose them both. He had to stay calm. "Fine," Micah relented, twisting his mouth into a smile. "I serve a lot of gods, including your patron. Sometimes their tasks lead me to places I'd rather not be. Because of your position, we had to interact. If you can't remember her name or where you come from, then that is her wish; I cannot reveal it to you."

Jason narrowed his eyes, suspicion evident in his gaze. "Who's Reyna?" He asked, then.

Micah couldn't conceal his disbelief, shaking his head helplessly. "You're in an unfamiliar place, with no information and no way of finding out who you are, and you're concerned about a name?" Micah replied, his tone incredulous. "Reyna is not someone you should be concerning yourself with right now."

"Who is she?" He repeated: Micah covered his face with a hand. Veins glowed brightly beneath his skin as he struggled to keep his temper in check. "You are fucking pathetic." He told the son of Jupiter before responding, "Reyna is your partner. I don't know if she is your friend or a girlfriend. I never cared enough to find out, so don't waste my time asking."

Jason nodded, his eyes lowering to the ground. He sounded emotional, like he had just been reminded of something important. "I have someone waiting for me," he said in a low tone.

Micah scoffed, nodding. "Congratulations, you do. I'm not trying to antagonize you, Jason, but we have similar priorities now, don't we? So, we need to move forward quickly. I don't want to waste any more time, and I'm sure you don't either."

"That's two," Jason responded, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency. "I have one more question left."

"I'm glad the amnesia has not affected your ability to count," Micah retorted. His skin burned, a warning sign that made him dig his nails into his flesh, as if to quell the impatience seeping through his words. "Well, go on. Ask your final question quickly."

Jason gauged his reaction before asking, "Who's Percy?"

Micah hadn't trimmed his nails for quite some time, not since his boyfriend reminded him to do so after he scratched a bit too roughly. With barely any pressure, small droplets of blood began to trickle down his arm; golden in color, resembling honey under the sunlight.

His laughter rang out with such a harsh edge that Jason instinctively took a step back, startled.

"The person waiting for me," the son of Hypnos informed him sharply. "That's three. Let's go."

The Roman tried to speak, but Micah ignored him, heading towards the Big House, leaving him with no choice but to follow.

Chiron awaited them on the porch, a pleasant smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Always in a hurry, my boy," he said to the son of Hypnos. Micah ignored him entirely, passing the threshold without a word. He turned to Jason with a powerless expression, as if to convey, Isn't he always like this? However, his smile disappeared as he took in the demigod, the color draining from his face. "You..." The centaur's eyes flared like a cornered animal's. "You should be dead."

The son of Jupiter was starting to agree.

He nodded, and followed them to the mansion.

Inside, he sat on the leather couch positioned before a stone fireplace, the crackling fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. As Chiron took the time to disguise his lower half into an enchanted wheelchair, Jason glanced around the room. Winding grapevines crawled on the walls and draped over the ceiling, snarling around the collection of masks and tapestries hanging in the room. Greek comedy and tragedy masks grinned and grimaced in the firelight, their expressions seemingly changing with each flicker of the flames. Wooden masks from Africa exuded an otherworldly energy, Venetian Carnevale masks, with their beaklike noses, gave the illusion of subtle breath, and the feathered Mardi Gras masks seemed to have eyes as red grapes oozed through their eyeholes.

Across the hall, Micah walked out of an office with a first aid-kit, leaving the door wide open as he made his way towards the center of the room. Chiron went to close it with a resigned sigh; Jason wondered how many times he had to remind him to close doors behind him before he gave up. The centaur took a hold of Micah's arm—the scratches on his arms had multiplied, running down the length of his forearm, blistering around the edges in a way that made Jason a bit lightheaded.

"Say hello to Seymour," Micah said, gesturing to the stuffed leopard's head above the fireplace as Chiron examined his wound.

Jason frowned. He was quickly gathering that Micah wasn't the sanest person he had ever met, with or without memories, but he couldn't deny the feeling of unease creeping up his spine when he stared at the leopard. It looked so real, its eyes seemed to follow him.

Then it snarled, and Jason nearly leaped out of his skin.

The son of Hypnos cackled as Jason stumbled backward, his heart racing with fear. "That thing is alive!"

"Now, Seymour," Chiron chided absently, focused on applying the ointment to Micah's arm. "Jason is a friend. Behave yourself. Apologies, they've been partners in crime since they were children. They tend to get carried away sometimes." After finishing and Micah lounged back on the couch like a tended king, Chiron turned to Jason with a considerate smile. "So, Jason," he said, "would you mind telling me—ah—where you're from?"

"He doesn't have any memories," Micah told the centaur before an answer could be given. They exchanged secretive looks, and Jason shifted uncomfortably as the two spoke in a language he couldn't understand. When they were done, Chiron studied him with concern, as if he expected Jason to burst into flames.

"I swore on the River Styx and on all things sacred that I would never..." Chiron frowned. "But you're here, in violation of the same oath. That too should not be possible. I don't understand."

"The Great Stirring," Micah listed. "The rise of the Titans, the fall of Nyx, the collapse of Olympus. Gods are missing; Hera was kidnapped. Now Jason is here, and Percy is over there. Ancient oaths no longer hold the same power they did before."

Chiron nodded slowly, his expression grave. Micah shifted his golden eyes to Jason—they gave him goosebumps, as if he was staring into the gaze of a god. "You've been dreaming," he observed, his voice thoughtful. "Juno has been calling you for months now, preparing you for this moment. She took your memories and placed you in the same path as the other two demigods for a reason."

Chiron sighed heavily, casting a meaningful glance towards Micah as he expressed, "It's a great shame that Apollo has lost his powers alongside his throne. Perhaps a prophecy could have forewarned us of the perils ahead."

Wearing a smirk, the offspring of Hypnos refrained from feigning innocence. "A great shame," Micah agreed. Rising to his feet, he let out a yawn while stretching his arms above his head. As his shirt lifted momentarily, Jason caught a glimpse of glowing webbing burning beneath Micah's skin before the fabric settled back into place. "But if it is a prophecy you want, then I will have to take a nap first. Don't wake me up."

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

Sorry it took so long, I just cannot get into the mindset of writing HoO. So warning now, I will be BLOWING through the Lost Hero. I apologize for the smaller chapters, I am beyond caring about pacing </3 We'll be starting to see the changes of Micah literally destroying Olympus through little details though!

Alright, until then, bye-bye!