✩ ━━━ chapter sixteen, made of stone. ❝See, I left my mothers arms, see, I left my fathers home, and I fell into a well of harm❞

THE FAINT SCENT OF BURNING TOBACCO FILLED THE AIR. Ethan's blood ran cold, immediately recognizing the voice that cut through the air like a well-aimed dagger. He turned sharply, his eye snapping onto the lone figure seated on the vacant bus stop. Nemesis sat on a bench nonchalantly with a cigarette dangling from her fingers, tendrils of smoke swirling around her as if it hesitated to invade her space. Her feet, clad in beaten black boots, were casually crossed in front of her, a devious smirk on her lips as her piercing gaze fixed on the sky above them, waiting for another sign of Hyperion.

"Why are you here?" Ethan demanded. The resemblance between Nemesis and Micah's golden eyes, complemented by their tall and elegant frames, struck him like a harsh blow to the heart. It felt as though the universe was mocking him, playing a cruel joke on his emotions. In contrast, Ethan lacked any semblance of these features. His body was thin and short, giving the impression that he was frail, and his eyes were dull and pitch-dark. There was an emptiness in his gaze, devoid of the captivating divinity that Nemesis and Micah possessed. His hair was sleek and straight, unlike his mother's short curls.

He had nothing in common with the woman in front of him except for the shared blood that flowed through their veins and the promise that bound them together.

She exhaled a cloud of smoke. A wry smile played upon her lips, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. "I am your mother," she said. "Shouldn't you be more polite?"

"Fuck you!" Ethan cursed vehemently; He turned away from the goddess, eyes downcast as he walked, fists clenched. He had no idea where he was going, but he had to get away from the goddess. It was just Micah and him. He had no father, no mother, no one but his cousin—He had his cousin, but now he was gone too, unless Ethan figured out a way to—

"You're taller," Nemesis observed, her voice cool and detached as she sat up to follow. She tossed the cigarette bud to the ground, stomping out the flame. "How old are you now? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

"What does it matter how old I am?" Ethan spat out. "Fuck you!"

Nemesis's expression remained unchanged as she replied, "You may be growing taller, but you still have much to learn about respect."

"I have no reason to respect you!" Ethan yelled back, his face turning red with frustration. "What have you done for me? What has any god ever done for me?" He nearly tripped on debris from a car wreck triggered by the sleeping spell cast upon the mortals, but Ethan steadied his footing and carried on, his emotions fueling his steps. He just needed to find a secluded spot away from all the godly conflict and the risks of war. Figuring out how to save Micah was his top priority. "You don't deserve respect; you are just a dead-beat loser!"

Ethan's words echoed through the empty streets. Nemesis chuckled, her gaze wandering aimlessly as if captivated by the surroundings. Fixating on a random rusted light pole, she did not bother to look at him as she spoke, her tone laced with amusement. "You think insulting me will make you feel better? You are only proving your own weakness."

"Can you go away?" Halting to a stop, Ethan pleaded with her, "Please, just leave me alone."

Nemesis arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as her amusement transformed into a cunning expression. "Let me ask you once more, Ethan Nakamura: Would you be willing to sacrifice everything in your pursuit to restore balance among the gods? To instill a sense of pride in your mother?"

As the familiar words hung in the air, a surge of sudden emotions threatened to unleash a torrent of tears, evoking awful memories—replaying the agonizing pain Ethan had endured the first time his mother had uttered that very same question. An unbearable ache throbbed in his empty eye socket, just like the first time. In that moment, it felt as if time had meant nothing, transporting Ethan back to the weak twelve-year-old version of himself, robbed of his sight and scarred by his own mother's hand, left to fend for himself in a world devoid of trust.

Ethan's breath grew shallow, his heart racing, pounding against his chest as if desperate to break free from its confines. He knew it wasn't real—it's been years. His eye healed; it did not hurt anymore beyond random hauntings of ghost pain. Ethan is no longer twelve years old. Yet the world around him seemed to close in, the air thickening with an overwhelming sense of suffocation. A rising sense of dread consumed him, as if invisible hands were tightening their grip around his throat.

It got worse with each passing moment, and Micah wasn't there to help him.

Ethan is fifteen now; he is still weak, but he persists. He isn't like the son of Poisodon or Hades; he is just as insignificant compared to the daughter of Zeus. He isn't the son of any important god, but he didn't need to be. Micah taught that to him. He proved to him that even minor gods' children can be strong.

His voice trembled as he mustered the strength to address the goddess. "It's not—It was never my problem. My cousin—He needs me."

Ethan stared at the ground, his heart hammering within his chest. He had to protect his family, no matter what. Micah has always been strong for him, and now he must be the same for his cousin.

"Oh, your cousin? " Nemesis laughed, surprised by the reply. She callously tore a sheet of paper off the light pole, paying little mind to the fallen motorcycles as she stepped over them, using the piece of paper to wave away smoke from crashed cars as if the smell insulted her. "Kid, don't go wastin' your time trying to help Micah. He is too far gone. I warned him, but he is arrogant. He might as well be halfway to the Underworld."

Ethan's heart sank. "What?" He whispered helplessly, feeling a lump form in his throat.

"Don't worry too much about him," Nemesis said humorlessly, folding the sheet of paper into an airplane. "The second he dies, he'll be as safe as can be, nestled in the caring arms of his doting uncle, Thanatos." She paused, a dark smirk forming on her black-tinted lips. "Until dear mother has her way, snatching him up and keeping him snug in the darkest depths of Tartarus, as is bound to happen."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away into an unknown street, leaving Ethan to chase her.

"What does that mean?" Ethan yelled as he attempted to catch up to her. "What is Nyx planning to do?" He could feel his heart racing with fear. Was Micah's death predetermined regardless of what Ethan did?

The goddess didn't respond immediately, effortlessly navigating the bustling streets of New York with her long strides, but eventually she stopped and turned to face him. "I am aware that I am not a good mother, Ethan. I'm not interested in you; there's no point in denying it. Half-bloods come and go like short-lived mayflies, vanishing before I can even wrap my head 'round their names. That's the way of immortality; it twists you into something vicious, and when it comes to cruelty, I'm a chip off the old block, my mother's daughter through and through."

"Okay," Ethan said drily. "I wasn't exactly expecting a warm hug from the goddess of revenge. But if you're not interested in me, then why are you here?"

"My dear brother Hypnos," she said with a tinge of exasperation, as if the weight of being the god of sleep rested heavily on her shoulders. "That sleepy old bastard is too darn soft-hearted. He loves like no other, with a depth that can't be matched—and that kid means the universe to him. Moreover, what justification is there to let him die? He isn't to blame... He was filled with resentment and bitterness when Nyx took him. The boy needed help. Mother is incapable of it—she is inhumane, abusive with her love. The depths of Tartarus are no playground for children; there's no love there, no inkling of kindness. Just an eternal abyss of darkness and despair."

Ethan didn't understand what was going on. "Am I the one who's braindead?" He wondered, "Can't you just be direct?"

The goddess sighed. "I'm barely a mother, but I am a sister, Ethan," she responded. "I'm here because my brother needs me, the same way Micah needs you. You will not be my son, and I will not be your mother. Here, we're just two souls bound by the common goal of safeguarding those we hold dear."

Ethan nodded cautiously. "I'll do whatever it takes to help Micah," he said firmly. "I don't care about you or Hypnos or Nyx or Zeus or whoever! Just Micah."

Nemesis refrained from smiling, yet a peculiar softness enveloped her eyes, catching Ethan completely off guard. "I know you will, Ethan." She said it kindly, devoid of any trace of doubt. "That's why I'm counting on you."

Though aware that he shouldn't seek solace in Nemesis' reassurance—to not feel pride over the words of an absentee parent, understanding that her support held no real significance—Ethan couldn't stop a warm feeling from developing in his stomach. Feeling unworthy, he tentatively admitted, "I don't know what to do."

Nemesis's reply was slow; the goddess idly fiddled with the paper plane in her grasp. She glanced around, confirming her surroundings, before nonchalantly launching the paper airplane into the air.

Together, they observed as it soared away, effortlessly disappearing into the distance.

Finally, Nemesis broke her silence and spoke up, her voice cutting through the stillness: "Not knowing what to do can be the best starting point. It opens the door to unexpected solutions. New possibilities." With a sly smirk, carrying a hint of mischief as she shared a knowing look with Ethan, she then added. "Other times, people know for you. Follow the plane, Ethan."

Without giving Ethan the opportunity to ponder the words of the goddess, Nemesis winked at him playfully, a fresh cigarette dangling from her hand. In an instant, she disappeared into thin air, as if she were never there at all. Ethan was left standing alone. He took a moment to collect himself, inhaling deeply to steady his racing heart. His gaze shifted from the empty streets to the vast expanse of the sky above; he set off to follow the course of the plane, where it had vanished into the distance.

Fifth Avenue felt like something out of a dystopian film: the city was frozen in time, cut off from the energy that normally filled it. Cars were scattered along the roads, their misplaced presence evident; several had collided with poles or other obstacles when the spell descended on the drivers, resulting in shattered glass and billowing smoke. The chaos on the ground was in stark contrast to the calmness of the sky. Amidst the eerie stillness, the only thing that broke the silence was the sound of his footsteps. He caught sight of a paper plane floating gently through the air.

It glided effortlessly, following an invisible path, as if guided by some unseen force.

And when it finally stopped, it happened so suddenly that Ethan couldn't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation, yet nothing happened. The paper airplane touched down on the windshield wiper of a blue Prius abandoned on the roadside with its windshield cracked, and a front tire deflated. Ethan approached the vehicle with caution, scanning the surroundings for any noteworthy details, but there was nothing significant. Inside the vehicle, Ethan's gaze fell upon two unfamiliar figures—a man and a woman—both unconscious, but he left them undisturbed; their safety would be better within the car. Unable to figure out what was so special, Ethan returned his attention to the paper plane itself.

Carefully extracting the paper airplane, he unfolded it, his thumb running over the intricate folds and precise creases. When he unfolded it, his eye was immediately drawn to the blunt words marked on the page, imploring, "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY?"

The photo underneath the text was slightly blurred, but Ethan recognized who the boy was from his expression alone—the golden, unsettling eyes pierced through the camera lens, filled with an unsatisfied intensity. The poutiness of his lips and the slight furrow of his brow made him look like a spoiled prince. Even at such a young age, the way he held his arms crossed against his chest exuded such an unmistakable air of childish arrogance, so distinct and commanding, that there was no doubt in Ethan's mind—this could only be Micah.

HIROKI MATSUOKA, EIGHT-YEARS-OLD; Missing since 1999. If seen, please contact us.

Overwhelmed by the unexpectedness of it all, Ethan couldn't help but burst into laughter.

But just as swiftly as it began, the laughter ended. Helplessly, the paper crumbled in Ethan's grip. He stood there, utterly clueless about what he was supposed to do next.

Missing posters were an all-too-familiar sight among the demigods. He had personally torn apart several of his own, viewing them as hollow gestures intended to comply with the human world's desperation for order. Their realm existed on a completely different plane. Did Nemesis think this missing poster would be enough to help him form a solution? What name his cousin was given at birth or where he came from didn't really matter. For half-bloods, survival was the only constant; names and identities were meaningless, tossed away as easily as a discarded piece of blood-stained clothing.

Ethan's attention pivoted towards the car, recognizing that he had no alternative but to rely on Nemesis and her direction; he could only hope that the goddess hadn't misguided him along the way. After all, she did mention that it was now up to others to provide the answers he was looking for.

In an effort to avoid causing any additional harm to the unconscious passengers, Ethan cautiously moved towards the backseat. Using his elbow, he shattered a window, carefully unlocking the doors to gain access. Once inside, his eye fell upon a purse tucked snugly within the compartment between the front seats, instantly capturing his attention. Ethan searched for the woman's wallet; he carefully opened it once he found it, only to be momentarily captivated by a cascade of polaroid's that slipped from within. For a brief moment, his focus wavered as he glimpsed the images, but he swiftly regained his composure. He brushed them aside, focused on retrieving the crucial piece: her identification.

As he held the ID in his hand, he felt a sense of dread creeping up on him.

Ethan's gaze turned to the motionless woman, her body slumped in the driver's seat, head resting heavily upon the steering wheel. The familiar surname on the identification card rang in Ethan's mind.

Hastily, he shoved the ID back into the wallet, barely managing to slide in the Polaroid pictures before zipping it shut. Just barely reacting to a photograph capturing two teenagers within an aquarium—the final piece of evidence he needed to determine who the woman was; he did not need to read the handwritten note at the bottom to recognize Micah and Percy.

The woman in front of him was Percy's mortal mother, Sally Jackson.

With a surge of realization, Ethan hastily exited the car, scrambling to his feet.

The sight before him confirmed his location: the distant yet unmistakable grand façade of the Empire State Building loomed several blocks away, its imposing silhouette piercing through buildings and the cloud-laden sky. Worse, Ethan could now hear the echoes of war cries and the thunderous galloping of centaurs charging into battle. The proximity of Central Park became apparent, and Ethan realized that he was dangerously close to the ongoing conflict.

With a newfound understanding of Nemesis's guidance, Ethan made his way to the front door of the vehicle. His eye fell upon the thin cuts scattered across Sally's arm, accompanied by a few visible bruises on her face. Despite the disheveled state of her hair, he couldn't help but notice a peculiar serenity in her expression. He knew it would be pointless to try to wake someone under a sleeping spell. With careful consideration, he supported Sally Jackson's body and lifted her gently out of the car.

The man could wait. Ethan hoisted the woman onto his back, grimacing.

He simply hopes Camp Half-Blood won't kill him on sight.

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

hoihoihoi hi! hope everyone is doing well and still enjoying the story! its all conflict now, its so sad i miss micah and percy so so much but plot. thank you for all the comments, i really love the ones theorizing plot points LOL

i've written a lot of scenes that i don't think will make it to the actual story so i was wondering if i should post them separately at the end? i think i might do that. speaking of other content, i have a playlist for micah if anyone is interested on more insight of his character

i also have a pinterest board for micah, hiroki, percy and their relationship, as well as hypnos! might make one for ethan. i'll link it somewhere.

anyways yeah!

Please comment and vote!
Until next time!