ογκούμαι

surge

• • •

The air was heavy with the scent of blood. The Sun was blotted out of the sky, the form of giants casting long shadows over the world. Percy Jackson used Riptide to slash his way through the horde of monsters separating him from his friends, ignoring the heaviness of his arm. He had been fighting for what felt like an eternity, but no matter what he did, it was never enough to win.

Percy glanced around anxiously, all too aware of the danger surrounding him. An ugly part of him hoped that the storm or fire part of the prophecy would come into play in the next few minutes; he was just so tired. He had been fighting since he was twelve, and had known little peace since. Percy just needed all the fighting to stop.

But the gods had forsaken them, and would provide no assistance in this final battle. Percy hated them, and was no longer afraid to admit so. They were immortal cowards, content to sit back as their children fought and died to protect their luxurious life. Percy had held up the damn sky and fallen into Tartarus, and never received so much as a proper thank you.

The memory of Tartarus crept up on him, sending a shiver down his spine as he dug his sword into a hellhound, ignoring the pained whimper it released. Tartarus had destroyed Percy Jackson, he knew that much; the only thing that held him together was Annabeth. If she hadn't been there...Percy would have ripped the hellscape to shreds and felt no remorse. But Annabeth balanced him, reminded him of the good that he fought for.

But there was no good on the battlefield. Only bodies and blood, screams and suffering. And Annabeth was no where to be seen.

A tremor of fear ran through his blood. They had never fought in a battle without each other. It was always the two of them, back-to-back, against the world. Where was she?

Jason was there, slowly lowering himself back down to Earth. Percy was there once he landed, and he didn't hesitate to ask "where's Annabeth?"

(The words came out as a growl, but even Percy didn't know if that was intentional or not.)

Jason only looked confused, blood running down his face from a scrape on his forehead. "I haven't seen her. I'm sure she's fine, Percy."

But a deep pull in his gut told Percy differently. He stumbled away from the son of Jupiter, throwing himself back into the thick of the battle. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Once, Percy had witnessed the blessing of Ares surround Clarisse; a red cloud that enveloped her figure. And that was the only way he could describe this new emotion as he ravaged the battlefield: a red cloud that clouded everything from him. There were monsters and giants and demigods in his path, but once he had crossed the battlefield, there was nothing in his way. But there was no Annabeth. Riptide was covered in blood, and a deep anger had filled the demigod's bones, but there was no Annabeth.

"Percy," a strong, clear voice said, piercing through the hazy cloud Percy's mind had escaped to. "Put down your sword."

The voice was familiar and so compelling. But there were so many monsters and screams. But Percy's arm grew heavier, the tip of Riptide dipping below the height of his waist. More than anything, he wanted to drop his sword, and possibly take a long nap.

But Annabeth was gone. And there was nothing anyone could do to separate him from her again.

With a sound that wasn't quite human, Percy Jackson swung his sword. The spell he seemingly cast on himself disappeared with the motion, and he watched as Piper McLean fell to the ground, her hand clutching her throat, which was dripping with blood.

Startled, Percy took a step back. Hazel stared at him, golden eyes wide in horror, and Frank took a small step forward, as if to separate Hazel from Percy. But that didn't make sense. They were his friends. They trusted him.

Jason was there again, kneeling beside Piper.

"No, no, no," the son of Jupiter cried in panic while pressing his own hand to his girlfriend's throat, as if that would keep the blood in. Gods, there was so much of it.

Percy had done this. Piper had attempted to charmspeak him, and he almost killed her because of it. She charmspoke him to stop Percy from killing demigods, and he might have killed her.

There was nothing he could do but watch as her kaleidoscope eyes gaped at the sunny sky, her breathing a bloody gargle. Percy took a step back. Then another. He ignored Nico, who sprinted toward the fallen girl, and Percy Jackson walked away.

• • •

At first, Percy felt no difference. The raft, surprisingly big enough for both Percy and Calypso to sit comfortably, bounced over the waves, but Percy felt no semblance of his lost powers. The small island that he had called home for over two years was beginning to fade behind them, and still he felt empty.

A surge of anger swept through his bloodstream, anger at the gods, at the giants, at every person he had encountered in the past decade. Percy's life had been crafted from monsters and blood, and his survival could only be credited to dumb and blind luck. That, and his powers.

If Poseidon had taken them from him permanently. . .

"I never thought I'd leave that place," Calypso said, barely loud enough to be heard over the rush of the ocean, "I thought I'd fade away there, someday, alone, once everyone had forgotten about me."

The familiar determination of loyalty took ahold of Percy's body, and he fixed his gaze on the horizon. "No one will forget you, Calypso. You won't fade."

Out of the corner of his eye, Percy could see that Calypso's answering smile was one of sadness. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Jackson."

"Those are the only kind of promises I seem to make," Percy muttered in response.

The ocean spray felt so nice, so refreshing that something inside Percy wanted to smile. But he didn't allow himself to, not when Annabeth could be hurt or dead or missing. She was alive, last he knew, but nothing was ever certain. For all Percy knew, this could be another cruel trick the gods were playing to manipulate Percy into fighting their battles for them. But damn, this was the way to do it.

His heart felt so empty, so hollow without Annabeth that it was almost laughable.

"Do you think--" Percy began to say, but the rest of his sentence disappeared as something strong and achingly familiar flooded through his body.

He gasped, the sudden resurgence too powerful, before everything felt right again. The pull deep in his gut tightened and released, as if Percy were flexing an unused muscle. Because this was right, this was who Percy was meant to be. His powers were back, and he had never felt more right, more complete than he did in this very moment.

"What is it?" Calypso asked anxiously, eying Percy with suspicion and something akin to fear. "What's wrong?"

Percy grinned, the smile not feeling as fake as it had in the past. "I can feel the ocean," he said, almost breathlessly. And he could; every atom in his body felt energized, as if he had been asleep for the past two years and he was finally awake.

But somewhere, miles away from the smiling demigod and worried titan, a dark pit in the ground rumbled, stirring awake. Its moans echoed through the depths of the Earth, sending the Earth Mother the only signal that she needed; Tartarus was awake, meaning that the final piece had been set in motion. The gods had unleashed Percy Jackson back on the world, which meant that her own monster had been discovered.

Gaea smiled to herself; Willow Livingston had been created to destroy the gods at all cost. She was a monster that not even Percy Jackson could kill. And soon, all trace of the obnoxious demigods, the self-proclaimed "heroes of Olympus", would be burned from the world.

• • •

Nico di Angelo had long forgotten how it felt to fear the dark, to fear death. Why be scared of something so inevitable? It was pointless, and so, Nico never feared it.

But now, Nico feared death more than anything. Not for himself; for every person around him. So he focused on learning how to heal, how to use his control over death to save people, rather than kill them. And now, his role as healer was one of the most important on Olympus; he was the reason that many of the demigods were still alive. Without him, the small population would be further gone.

Nico stared at his see-through hand, squinted at it as though that would suddenly make it stable. Things had gotten worse, he knew that. Ever since Will disappeared, there were no limits. The intervals between sleep grew longer, as did the ones where he forgot to eat (there was a limited supply of food on the floating island; the younger demigods had learned to eat a single meal a day. Why should it matter that Nico saved most of his rations for those that stumbled into the healing tent? They needed the food more, to heal, to fight).

Things had gotten worse, but nothing felt more terrible than Reyna's disappointed and worried glare. Because Rachel Dare was a terrible human being who tattled and sent Reyna to deliver Nico's food. 

"What the hell, Nico?" Reyna finally said. Nico winced as her glare went right through him. "Did you forget that you're a human being that needs food and shit?"

"Go easy on him," a voice from outside Nico's tent called, causing Nico to jump in surprise. 

"What the hell, Reyna!" Nico mocked, "why would you bring Thalia?"

The youthful huntress popped her head through the tent flap. "To be fair, she didn't bring me anywhere. She went somewhere, I followed. Simple as that, Neeks."

"Don't call me that," Nico muttered, glad to find that his hand reverted to being solid. 

"I'm not going to go easy on someone who is letting himself waste away!" Reyna shouted. "I thought we talked about this, Nico!"

"It's honestly nothing--" Nico began to say before realizing what a horrible idea it was to attempt to argue with a pissed off Reyna.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at her closest friend. "It's nothing? I've seen ghosts more solid than you were when I walked in here! You survived two of the biggest wars in history, and you're going to die by chosen starvation?"

Nico was more than surprised to find that Reyna's eyes were shining with tears. Something deep in his chest contracted painfully, and he wanted more than anything to go back to a few minutes ago and avoid this whole mess. Thalia must have noticed Reyna's misty eyes because the girl's sharp expression melted.

"Reyna," Thalia said softly, but any further words of reassurance would have to wait as Piper strode into the tent as if she lived in it.

"Why the hell does everyone think my tent is their own living room?" Nico demanded.

Piper flashed him a half-apologetic smile. "Sorry. But we have a crisis."

"What else is new," Reyna muttered, her dark eyes no longer flush with tears.

"Two naiads swam ashore this morning," said Piper, choosing to ignore Reyna's sarcastic demeanor. "They were shaking and terrified. I spoke to them, since I would most likely be able to convince them to share any news. But they didn't need convincing."

"Just spit it out, McLean," Thalia sighed while running a hand through her short hair.

Piper rolled her kaleidoscopic eyes. "Fine. The naiads said that they felt a powerful tremor in the waves early in the morning. Like something powerful had woken up. They only other time that they had ever felt it was in Poseidon's presence."

"So the gods are back?" asked Nico with a frown.

"I thought the same thing," continued Piper, "but the naiads told me no, it wasn't Poseidon. It was the only person who could ever be more powerful."

"Percy," Thalia exhaled. 

With a grim nod, Piper sealed Nico's fate. He was glad that he hadn't stood up because he knew that he would have to sit down right about now.

"I don't know where he was, but according to the naiads, Percy is back. And he's headed here, for Olympus."

• • •