πτώση

falling

• • •

The world was falling apart.

In every way that had been imagined by mankind, the world was crumbling to pieces. A thick cloud had engulfed the air, full of dirt and sorrow. The world was ending.

One.

A satyr, standing tall on the edge of the beach, fighting with a pipe held to his lips. Hellhounds fell before him, but more replaced their fallen brethren.

Two.

Two girls, both wounded horribly, were helping each other stand. Back to back they stood, swords held in front of their shaking figures. An army of monsters advanced on them, and through blood spilling out of their bodies, the girls fought. A boy stood in front of them, launching arrow after arrow into the throng of monsters.

Three.

A man, riding atop a hellhound, was fighting like Thanatos himself was about to claim him. His path left a bloody trail as monsters fell before him.

Four.

A girl riding a horse raced between the battle, her sword bringing as much devastation as the illusions she casted with secrecy. Monsters trembled before her, realizing too late that they were staring at an illusion and her true form was behind them, sword raised high. She was an avenging angel wreaking havoc.

Five.

A forgotten demigod stood tall on her own two feet. A monster disguised as a girl surveyed her from across a small span of five feet. Though a battle raged on, the two girls stared at each other as though they were the only two things in the world. A glint in the demigod's grey eyes, a battle cry on her lips. The world held its breath as she swung her sword at the beautiful monster.

And Rachel Dare woke up with a name on her lips.

"Annabeth," she gasped, her lungs constricting as a panic attack took ahold of her. "Alive. Annabeth."

The oracle was screaming in her mind, snatches of the prophecies she had recited earlier were yelled. Because this was the mark of Athena, the lost demigod. The devastation of monsters. Annabeth Chase was alive, undeniably so.

Rachel stumbled to her feet, not caring that it was the middle of the night, not caring that she was barefoot as she ran out of her tent. Not caring at the strange looks that the demigods on patrol gave her. But no one dared approach her; they learned long ago that the Oracle was not someone to mess with. She had saved too many lives to have gained any enemies.

The night was silent, juxtaposing the violence she had just witnessed in her dream. Rachel had no reason to believe that it wasn't happening right now; the Oracle was very timely with her visions. It was either occurring now or in the future, and Rachel needed to someone to know.

Rachel didn't bother announcing her presence as she barged into the healer's tent. Unsurprisingly, Nico di Angelo was asleep, slumped in a chair by an empty cot. The boy worked harder than was healthy, and every insignificant failure seemed to leach a little life out of him. But Rachel couldn't judge; she was the one who uttered the last Great Prophecy, foreseeing the doom of the world.

Rachel shook her head, red curls flying violently. There was no use focusing on the past, there was only the future. She reached out to shake Nico awake, but her hand passed through his body. Like he was nothing but a mirage, a ghost.

She gasped loudly, taking half a step backwards in shock. But Nico didn't stir, if he was still alive.

"Nico," Rachel said loudly, wincing with relief as the boy jerked himself awake. He blinked his eyes blearily, the dark circles more prominent than ever. She lowered her voice and said, "you're fading."

He frowned, confused, and Rachel pointed at his arm. Nico stared and his eyes widened in shock as he noticed the transparency of his own body. But the shock disappeared too quickly for the revelation to be considered new.

"How long has this been going on?" Rachel demanded, her anger devouring the fear.

Nico only sighed, defeat heavy in his tone. "Since Will left."

Of course. Will had always acted as Nico's carer, making sure that he slept and ate and never overexerted himself. But Will had been gone...gods, how long had it been? Far longer than his panic date. That day had passed long ago, and Nico had been falling apart since.

"You look like a ghost," Rachel said softly. And he did. Rachel couldn't see through him, exactly, but his form was shaky, like he was a bad cell signal. Nico was fuzzy, like Rachel needed glasses.

He shook his head, almost violently. "Don't worry about me. I'm helping people. This isn't anything bad."

"You can't save people while you let yourself waste away."

"I have to. Because if not me, then who? I'm the only one with this ability, the only one cursed with it. And I need to use that on as many people as I can because only I can save them. Just because I couldn't save—" Nico broke off suddenly, his eyes shut too tightly as his form vibrated. "I have to save everyone."

Rachel reached a tentative hand out, not daring to release a breath as her skin connected with Nico's shoulder. He was solid enough for touch, for now, at least.

"Listen to me, Nico. You can't save everyone. At least, not like this. It's not worth it to kill yourself like this, just to save a few people."

An argument ignited in Nico's dark eyes, but Rachel lifted a single finger in form of stopping him. And it worked (thank whatever gods were left).

"I just had a vision, which is why I'm here in the first place. And I saw Annabeth definitely alive and fighting, alongside Hazel and Clarisse and a few others. It can't be a coincidence that the prophecies and Annabeth's reappearance occurred within days of each other. This is the start of something bigger than what any of us predicted. This can be the turning tide of the war."

"The war ended two years ago," said Nico warily, sounding far too tired. "We've just been hiding since then."

But Rachel was determined, more than she had ever been. "So what? Going out there with the shitty army we have left? We lost so many demigods and mortals alike in the first war. It would have been suicide to even entertain the idea of fighting the big green bitch herself before right now. But it's not suicide right now. Because Annabeth is alive, and if she's alive, then so is Percy. He had a prophecy, and he's alive to fulfill it."

Nico's pale skin seemed to shine in the dim light. He raised his head, slowly, the moonlight passing through his skin. He stared at his translucent arms, and slowly smiled. "One last fight, yeah?"

And Rachel grinned despite herself. "That's what it's shaping up to be."

One last fight.

• • •

"How's our patient doing?"

The girl who had thrived off running, escaping, and killing sat beside an occupied bed, her hands occupied with twisting a dagger. She was able to make shapes with its motioned, her practiced hands not allowing the weapon to fall as she created a six-pointed star.

"I've seen worse," the girl smirked, allowing the tip of her dagger to rest in her palm where a white scar seemed to tear her hand in half. "He'll wake up soon, or at least that's what Sam promised."

For all her smirks and bravado, there was a tremor of fear in her voice. This was a girl that monsters and gods alike feared, a girl who had myths crafted after her name. She was young, but she had already risen to the ranks of Percy Jackson, at least in name recognition. There was hardly a demigod or monster alive who didn't know the name Esmerelda Eduardo, and those who didn't were often slayed by her. Because Esmerelda was a girl crafted from something between the shadows and light, something new and dangerous. A new age of demigods, of heroes.

"Do you know his name yet?" asked Esmerelda, staring at the unconscious man's bright sun-kissed hair.

Daphne Fitzgerald took a step into the room. "Not yet. No one recognizes him, but that's not unusual. He looks like he's from Olympus."

Esmerelda snorted. "Not like we would know."

Daphne smiled tiredly at her closest friend. "We do fine for ourselves here. Besides, the gods have abandoned all of us, regardless of where we live."

"All I'm saying is their superiority complex is insufferable. Naming their island after the home of the gods? Do they expect me to believe that they'll be the next gods?"

Daphne's eyes flashed, and the room began to smell strongly of smoke. But Esmerelda did not look afraid; her bright green eyes rippled with defiance.

"He could be a spy, if he's from Olympus," Daphne warned, jerking her chin at the unconscious man, "and listening to everything you're saying."

"I'm not scared of him or any other so-called Olympians. Hestia said that you and I together are more powerful than any demigod has ever been before," argued the green-eyed warrior. "He's lucky I found him before some monster ate his entitled ass."

Without any warning, the man jerked awake. Esmerelda was on her feet in a flash, snarling like a wolf. Daphne took a similar position by the door. But the man made no threatening moves; he merely looked confused.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Esmerelda, not at all shy about shoving her dagger in his face.

The man didn't appear to be afraid (which Esmerelda had to grudgingly admire). "My name's Will Solace," he said, his voice hoarse and dry. "Who the hell are you?"

Will Solace smirked at repeating her phrase back, but a commotion outside the cluttered infirmary had stolen Esmerelda's attention. She stepped away from the bed, frowning over at Daphne.

A head popped through the door, and Esmerelda released a breath of relief. But Sam did not seem thrilled. "Shit's going down. Rowan is having an episode. She says she can feel her father's powers again."

Esmerelda released a particularly clever curse she had been saving for months. She ignored the low whistle that Will Solace emitted, and stalked out of the infirmary, Daphne right behind her.

"When did this start?" Daphne asked, already fixing her hair back into a ponytail.

"About three minutes ago. I found you two as quickly as I could," replied Sam.

"Where?" was all Esmerelda had to ask for Sam to point her to the room on the right.

And there was Rowan, a petite sixteen-year-old girl who was known for her sharp wit and even sharper dagger. But she was laying on a cracked floor, the stone beneath her fallen figure shaking with vigor.

"Rowan," said Esmerelda loudly, "what's happening?"

Rowan's blue eyes were alight with joy. "I can feel him again," she whispered, oblivious to the earthquake occurring right beneath her, "I can feel Poseidon again."

Esmerelda and Daphne shared a heavy look across Rowan's smiling body. But neither girl was aware that not so far away, a man and an immortal woman had just stepped foot onto a raft, and sailed away into the ocean.

This was the beginning of the end, the ruination of immortals. For it was not Poseidon's power that Rowan could sense, but that of Percy Jackson, a god among demigods.

• • •

author's note:

the first part of this chapter has been sitting in my drafts for FOREVER. anyways, my school year is almost over (thank god) so that should mean more frequent updates! hopefully this chapter wasn't too confusing, and these new characters will be further explained in chapters to come. please tell me what you think, and i'll see you next time!