CHAPTER TWO / VOL. I, LET THE WORLD BURN

THE SILENCE IS HARROWING. It's never been something that Will has taken comfort in or felt at home in—rather silence was yet another augury of disaster. It was unnatural. In Ares' cabin there was always some kind of commotion to kill the silence, always somewhere between explosive war cries and the sound of ear-splitting music. Will finds a home in the chaos, seeking comfort in the predictability of disarray, but silence is foreign and unwelcome. Still, as much as the silence unsettles her, Will can't find it in herself to fill the void. The only sound comes from her sharpening her dagger, sliding Éleos fluidly across the whetstone, the sharp trill of celestial bronze ringing in the still air.

Jason seems to be at a loss as well. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his windbreaker, stormy eyes watching the various buildings they pass by and the many curious eyes that look back at him. He spares a glance at the girl beside him, seeing the dagger gleam in the light. Will catches his eye, a glower permanently etched on her face as she slides her knife across the whetstone in a violent swipe. He looks away.

Suddenly, with Will's probing gaze on him, he's all the more aware of his own person. He has to make sure his feet are moving properly; left, right, left, right. He feels like a newborn deer—every movement hesitant and shaky, like his body wasn't his own until this moment. It was strange how easily Will got into his head, making him uncertain of the most basic things. He feels like a specimen under a microscope, or worse, an ant under a magnifying glass, and Will is the kid holding it under the sun, playing god with a life deemed less crucial than her own. It's the same way that Will views the gods—kids with an ant farm, shaking the box just to see them scramble and watching the world they've created fall to pieces.

We live to suffer. The gods won't accept any less.

          At long last, Jason's voice decimates the silence, replacing it with the sound of his muted voice, not quite as confident as he'd been before. "So, Will..." The name sounds foreign and bashful as it rolls off of his tongue. "Can I ask who your godly parent is?"

Will merely rolls her eyes at him, biting back a cruel remark. She remembers arriving at Camp Half-Blood at the age of seven, having spent six months wandering alone with nothing but festering fear and self-loathing to keep her company. Most of that time was spent slaying monsters with whatever object was on hand. She found a natural penchant for combat and she wielded whatever weapon she had better than a master swordsman. It was a terrifying predisposition to bloodshed that kept her alive, but it didn't save her from the abhorrence she felt from her bloody hands.

When she arrived at Camp Half-Blood it took her months to talk to anyone, and even longer until she could look at her own reflection once more. The scar across her face had healed as much as it could, but even the ambrosia wasn't enough to mend the wound, leaving a dark line of scar tissue on the right side of her face. So she understands that Jason is afraid and answers him, albeit her response is still laced with venom. "Isn't it obvious?" Will laughs bitterly, though the word laugh feels unsuitable. The sound she makes is hollow and haunting, something dark living in her very words. "My father is the god of war."

The pieces come together instantly, and somewhere in the back of Jason's mind he knows he should have seen it sooner. The assortment of daggers and the threatening sword—the scattering of cuts and bruises, ugly hues of yellow and purple, and the last remnants of battle being covered with scar tissue. And then he looks into her eyes and he didn't see it before, but he swears that there's a light—a fire burning dimly beneath the surface. A spark that could burn entire cities. Will Capote is the spitting image of her father and as much as she tries to deny it, it scares her because she knows she's violent and ill-disposed, but she never wants to be like him. Men like Ares didn't build the world, they destroyed it.

          "Mars," Jason says after a moment of contemplation.

          Will's hands still, the whetstone pressed tightly in her palm and the heaviness of her dagger in the other. "No," she corrects. "Ares. Greek god of war." She studies him unabashedly, distrust and odium swirling in her eyes, like smoke and flames twisting into the dark night. "Strange," she muses. "Demigods are hardwired for Greek. But you," Will points Éleos right between his brows, not touching the delicate skin but holding it close enough that Jason's heart drops. "Your brain's mother tongue is Latin."

          "Yeah," Jason mutters, watching the knife drop to her side. "Strange." He feels suddenly uneasy. Will seems to gather more understanding from his words than even he does. But he doesn't bother trying to piece things together like she does. At this point he accepts that he is not himself and the brian in his cranium that lacks fond memories or any at all cannot be remedied by his own hand.

"Let me ask a question now. That coin in your pocket," Will begins. Jason's hand instinctively reaches to feel the cool metal, running his fingers over the ridges as if it brings him comfort. She continues, "Where'd you get it?"

"I really don't know," he admits though she doesn't seem convinced. "I woke up with it. It's the only thing I had on me."

"Can I see it?"

Jason stills, changing the subject. "How'd you know about it?"

"Call it instinct," Will says cryptically. She knows that she's not getting her hands on that coin. Jason is wary and she doesn't trust him in any capacity, but his protectiveness over the gold piece doesn't go unnoticed. If anything it only fortifies Will's mistrust and makes her wonder what other secrets he's keeping locked away. She chuckles to herself, although she finds little humor in the situation. "You expect me to believe that you're carrying a weapon that powerful with no clue of its origin or how to wield it?"

"Well, I used it at the Grand Canyon," he shrugs but then furrows his brow in confusion. "Is it? Powerful, I mean?"

She doesn't say what she's thinking, which is that it's wasted on him, and instead just shakes her head, deciding that the aberrant boy and his ignorance is not worthy of her interest. Another lapse of silence envelopes them.

"So," he tries again. "This is a summer camp?"

Will doesn't look at him, only continues walking towards the blue house on the top of the hill with a look of indifference. Jason thinks that she's going to ignore him but she surprises him. "For some. Others are here year-round."

"How long have you been here?"

She shows him her necklace, stacked with vibrant, miscellaneous beads, each branded with a symbolic representation of the most important event of the year. He pieces it together quickly and counts the beads as best as he can while Will continues to walk forward, not concerned with his struggles.

"Ten summers?" he asks in surprise.

"Ten years."

Jason's brow furrows. "So you came here when you were..."

"Seven."

"I thought that you were supposed to come here when you're thirteen. Isn't that what they said?"

"Percy—"

"The guy that's missing? Annabeth's boyfriend?"

"Yes," Will says through gritted teething, throwing Jason a scathing look that silenced him. "Percy made a deal with the gods last summer. They have to claim their children by the age of thirteen. As you can imagine, being neglected by your parents seeds resentment and in some occasions incites you to turn against them. The gods made that deal in an attempt to avoid another war..." Her mind goes to dark places, thinking that it shouldn't have been so easy to move on from that. "Anyways, some kids still haven't been claimed. That deal didn't encompass the ones that are older, so some people are still waiting." She doesn't add, waiting for something that won't happen.

"Like me," he concludes.

"Like you," Will agrees.

Jason tries to soak in this information, already forming another question. "How old were you when you were claimed."

"Seven."

"As soon as you arrived here?"

"Before."

Jason knows it's a mistake, but he asks anyways. "Why?"

She stops in her tracks and he worries that she'll lash out, leaving his corpse something violent and obscene, but she doesn't. Instead she frowns, only a sliver of annoyance crossing her face. "I don't know. Took pity on me, maybe..." Will mutters, acrimony coating each word. "I was traveling alone for a while when he came to me in a dream, told me where to find Camp Half-Blood and left." She doesn't mention the part where he permanently scars her, branding her like cattle, a mark of predisposed ruthlessness. This version is simpler, giving more humanity to a god than he deserves.

"How long were you traveling for?"

Will doesn't answer him and Jason thinks it's best to end the conversation there. He doesn't say what he's thinking, but it fills the silence anyways.

That must have been lonely.

WILL DOESN'T FIND SOLITUDE TO BE LONESOME—not anymore at least. It's comforting to not have any independent variables in play, more unpredictable people to meddle and disturb things that are better left untouched. She was glad to be rid of Jason, having abandoned him at the steps of the Big House without looking back once. He asked too many questions and provoked Will's hunger to carve into flesh, pulling teeth from gums and letting them bleed. She was alone again, as it was meant to be. But that didn't last long as she spots Annabeth and Piper hovering just outside of Hera's cabin. The building itself had classical Greek columns and marble covering every surface, but the air was austere and dark, a bad omen if Will ever saw one.

"Goddess of marriage." Annabeth speaks carefully, half expecting Hera to emerge from the cabin and smite her. "She doesn't have kids with anyone but Zeus. So, yeah, no demigods. The cabin's just honorary."

"You don't like her," Piper says. It's a statement not a question, and Will thinks Piper might be more observant than she lets on.

She decides to make herself known then, eyeing the building with a look that her mother might have worn during a storm or when encountering the number four, something comparable to torment or foreboding. "No one likes Hera. I think she makes it a point to be unlikable."

Piper looks up in alarm, surprised to see the morose but unconventionally captivating girl from earlier whose eyes still flicker with life. She isn't certain how to feel around Will yet—the girl certainly knew how to dig at people's soft spots and leave them inexplicably indisposed.

Annabeth, on the other hand, just gives her a disapproving look, thin lips pressed into a frown. "We have a long history," Annabeth explains. "I thought we'd made peace, but when Percy disappeared... I got this weird dream vision from her."

"Telling you to come get us. But you thought Percy would be there."

"It's probably better I don't talk about it," Annabeth dismisses. "I've got nothing good to say about Hera right now."

Piper looks at the doors. "So who goes in here?"

"No one. The cabin is just honorary, like I said. No one goes in."

"Someone does." Piper asserts, motioning towards the footprint on the threshold that is pressed into the thick layer of dust. She gives the door a push and it swings open like a dark, gaping mouth.

Annabeth steps back with a worried expression. "Um, Piper, I don't think we should—"

"We're supposed to do dangerous stuff, right?"

Will shakes her head with a look of apathy, though something akin to amusement lingers. "It's your funeral."

Piper is unsettled by her words but ignores her and walks in anyways, aware of Will's piercing eyes watching her every movement. She trembles and hopes that it's indiscernable. Annabeth throws Will a look, but Will just shakes her head again, and before she can say the words, Annabeth says them for her.

"Yeah, I know. Bad omen."

WILL HAD BEEN PASSING THE TIME BY CARVING INTO HERA'S CABIN WITH HER DAGGER, making small cuts in the marble that formed a scratchy, almost illegible version of her name, when something in the air shifted. She could tell that something was wrong, and as soon as she clambers off of the grass and approaches the door, a billow of green smoke seeps from beneath it, reaching her black boots and swirling around them. Will goes against her better judgment and kicks the door open in an unnecessary but effective fashion, swatting her way through the smoke with squinted eyes. She couldn't see anything through the dense green smoke for a while until her fingers tingle with anticipation and she stumbles over a foreign object. Scanning the ground, Will sees Piper's body sprawled across the marble, foot laying just next to Will's with her chest lifting up and down, though just marginally.

Annabeth is hovering just beside Piper with Rachel Dare at her side, looking unbelievably guilty and apologetic towards the unconscious girl. Without Will noticing, Annabeth and Rachel had already started to haul Piper up, one arm being grasped by each girl. Annabeth looks over at her expectantly. "A little help, Will?"

She rolls her eyes before begrudgingly grabbing a hold of the girls feet and lifting them with ease. "Aye aye, Captain."

Once they reach the house on the hill that Will had just come from, the Capote girl drops Piper's feet rather carelessly, resulting in a loud thump and a glare from Annabeth. She shrugs with no remorse, yanking open the doors as the other two girls haul Piper's body to the top of the stairs. For a moment she is left with Piper's unmoving body while the others rush to tell Chiron of what happened. She prods at Piper's leg with her foot, finding this whole affair to be tedious and unnecessary. She was meant to be training with Sherman right now—feeling the tingle of metal clashing against metal and the pungent metallic scent of blood being drawn. Instead she was standing next to a half-dead, half-alive demigod, cursing the gods for her foul luck, and not caring if they struck her down on the spot.

"What happened?" Jason inquires, rushing over as soon as he sees Will hovering besides Piper's body. He feels a rush of warmth at the sight of her, but drowns the feeling as soon as it rises. He looks to Piper. "What's wrong with her?"

          "Hera's cabin," Annabeth recounts, though her breathing is labored. Her slate eyes show distress, though her eyes soon fall on the floor as her hands press against her thighs, hunching over to catch her breath. "Vision. Bad."

          Rachel looks up with red eyes, a remorseful look carved onto her face. Her breathing is strained too, but not enough that her words are incomprehensible. "I think... I think I may have killed her." Her voice wavers, sounding far too soft for a mouthpiece of the gods.

          Will scoffs, looking at the redhead scornfully. "She's not dead. Don't be so melodramatic." She crosses her arms, ignoring the way that Annabeth glares at her and Rachel wilts. "If she was dead then she wouldn't be breathing," Will reasons, slanting one of her small knives just under Piper's nose where the reflection fogs up and vanishes, repeating in a steady pattern.

She notices the way they watch her warily, following her movement as though they think she might surge forward and slice Piper's throat in one fell swoop. Will sheathes the knife, falling uncharacteristically somber at the way their distrust carries. Annabeth eyes Will's reaction, hesitantly departing down the hall in search for a med kit while Jason and Rachel lift Piper onto the couch. Will leans against a nearby table, arms crossed as another seed of resentment is planted.

          Piper, though still breathing, looks alarmingly feeble, skin turning pale and glistening with a sheen of sweat. Rachel, after having no success with shaking her awake, asks, "What do we do now?"

          "I can wake her up," Will offers. Jason and Rachel turn to look at her hopefully, but Chiron only sighs, running a calloused hand down his weathered face.

          "How?"

          Will shrugs, fiddling with a dagger in her nimble hands. "Any means necessary."

          "No one," Annabeth thunders, coming up from behind the group, a pouch in hand and a stern look across her soft features. "Is stabbing anyone."

          Jason frowns, trying to ignore the disappointment on Will's face. He furrows his brow, looking down at Piper who had held his hand and looked at him with misplaced adoration—the girl who was lied to, filled with fabricated memories and feelings that were not her own. He didn't feel any kind of attachment to her, though he thinks he should, but the altruistic part of him wants to save her, needs to save her. "We've got to heal her. There's a way, right?"

          Chiron rests his hand on Piper's forehead and grimaces, recoiling slightly. "Her mind is in a fragile state. Rachel, what happened?"

          "I wish I knew," Rachel says solemnly. "As soon as I got to camp, I had a premonition about Hera's cabin. I went inside. Annabeth and Piper came in while I was there. We talked, and then—I just blanked out. Annabeth said I spoke in a different voice."

          "A prophecy?" Chiron inquires.

          "No," Rachel disagrees. "The spirit of Delphi comes from within. I know how that feels. This was like long distance, a power trying to speak through me."

          Annabeth, now kneeling besides Piper with a leather pouch, shakes her head. "Chiron, what happened back there—I've never seen anything like it. I've heard Rachel's prophecy voice. This was different. She sounded like an older woman. She grabbed Piper's shoulders and told her—"

          "To free her from a prison?" Jason guesses.

Will scowls. More questions but no answers. The mystery deepens, but Will's never liked enigmas. She yearns for the simplicity of strife and chaos, on the battle front where there is no answers or questions, only life or death. But that's not to say it's the end. After all, decay exists as an extant form of life.

          Annabeth stares at him. "How did you know that?"

          "Jason, tell them. Annabeth, the medicine bag, please." Chiron trickles drops from a vial into Piper's mouth while Jason explains what had happened only moments before.

          "So does this happen often?" the golden haired boy asks. "Supernatural phone calls from convicts demanding you bust them out of jail?"

          "No," Will says flatly before musing. "Actually, all of this disaster seems to follow you. You must be pretty special."

Jason knows that her words are a jab at him, but even then, he doesn't feel special at all. He starts to think that maybe he really is the catalyst of all of this disaster, that this chaos follows him wherever he goes. Will feels like this all of the time, and the worst parts of her wants him to feel it too. After all, misery loves company.

          "Your patron," Annabeth asks, disregarding Will with practiced ease. "Not your godly parent?"

          "No, she said patron. She also said my dad had given her my life."

          Annabeth furrows her brow in contemplation. "I've never of heard anything like that before.You said that the storm spirit on the skywalk claimed to be working for some mistress who was giving him orders, right? Could it be this woman you saw, messing with your mind?"

          "I don't think so," Jason comments. "If she were my enemy, why would she be asking for my help? She's imprisoned. She's worried about some enemy getting more powerful. Something about a king rising from the earth on the solstice—"

Annabeth turns to Chiron in alarm. "Not Kronos. Please tell me it's not that."

He checks Piper's pulse, letting a moment pass before saying, "It is not Kronos. That threat is ended. But..."

"But what?"

Chiron closes the medicine bag, signaling unspoken finality. "Piper needs rest. We should discuss this later."

"Or now," Jason insists. "Sir, Mr. Chiron, you told me the greatest threat was coming. The last chapter. You can't possibly mean something worse than an army of Titans, right?"

"Oh," Rachel breathes, worry seeping into her voice. "Oh, dear. The woman was Hera. Of course. Her cabin, her voice. She showed herself to Jason at the same moment."

"Hera?" Annabeth snarls. "She took you over? She did this to Piper?"

"I think Rachel's right," Jason affirms. "The woman did seem like a goddess. And she wore this—this goatskin cloak. That's a symbol of Juno, isn't it?"

"It is?" Annabeth scowls. "I've never heard that."

Chiron nods with reluctance ingrained in every movement. "Of Juno, Hera's Roman aspect, in her most warlike state. The goatskin cloak was a symbol of the Roman soldier."

"So Hera is imprisoned?" Rachel asks. "Who could do that to the queen of the gods?"

Annabeth crosses her arms. "Well, whoever they are, maybe we should thank them. If they can shut up Hera—"

Will lets out a howl of laughter.

"Annabeth, Will," Chiron warns, "she is still one of the Olympians. In many ways, she is the glue that holds the gods' family together. If she truly has been imprisoned and is in danger of destruction, this could shake the foundations of the world. It could unravel the stability of Olympus, which is never great even in the best of times. And if Hera has asked Jason for help—"

"Then we should kill Hera's chosen one and let her perish?" Will suggests, a cruel snark to her words as she aims a malicious look at Jason. He winces, not recognizing the warrior that stands before him—cold and calloused, and far too eager for carnage.

"No," Annabeth grumbles, before Chiron could, though she still seems just as sullen as before. "Well, we know Titans can capture a god, right? Atlas captured Artemis a few years ago. And in the old stories, the gods captured each other in traps all the time. But something worse than a Titan...?"

"Hera said she'd been trying to break through her prison bonds for a month." Jason glances towards the leopard's head like the goddess was still possessing it before turning back to the group.

"Which is how long Olympus has been closed," Annabeth says. "So the gods must know something bad is going on."

          "But why use her energy to send me here?" Jason asks. Too many question, not enough answers. "She wiped my memory, plopped me into the Wilderness School field trip, and sent you a dream vision to come pick me up. Why am I so important? Why not just send up an emergency flare to the other gods—let them know where she is so they bust her out?"

          "The gods need heroes to do their will down here on earth," Rachel asserts. "That's right, isn't it? Their fates are always intertwined with demigods."

          "They don't need us for anything. We have no real purpose, we're just pawns. They give us life and then leave us to deal with the ugly aftermath." Will scowls, staring down at Éleos with a bitter look on her face, seeing the scene fill with blood and the faces flood with anguish. A constant reminder of her resentment.

          "That's true—what Rachel said. Not you, Will," Annabeth clarifies and Will rolls her eyes, "but Jason's got a point. Why him? Why take his memory?"

          "And Piper's involved somehow," Rachel adds. "Hera sent her the same message—Free me. And, Annabeth, this must have something to do with Percy's disappearing."

          Annabeth looks at Chiron, analyzing him. "Why are you so quiet, Chiron? What is it we're facing?"

          "My dear, in this, I cannot help you. I am so sorry."

          Annabeth is stunned. "You've never... you've never kept information from me. Even the last great prophecy—"

          "I will be in my office. I need some time to think before dinner. Rachel, will you watch the girl? Call Argus to bring her to the infirmary, if you'd like. And Annabeth, you should speak with Jason. Tell him about the Greek and Roman gods."

He sounds burdened, but Will doesn't think about that. She's too busy feeling the fire in her eyes go rampant and the frustration she's felt for months finally surfacing. She wants to destroy something, needs to, but all that happens is nothing. Her dagger burns hot but the world keeps spinning on its axis.

          "But..."

Chiron rolls his wheelchair down the hall, retreating into his shell. Annabeth's eyes turn dark as she mutters something under her breath. Will reacts in a more violent way by thrusting Éleos into the table, causing Rachel to jump and Jason to look up in alarm. She drags it out, leaving a deep line through the wood.

          "I'm sorry," Jason mutters after seeing the cut in the table. "I think my being here—I don't know. I've messed things up coming to the camp, somehow. Chiron said he'd sworn an oath and couldn't talk about it."

          "What oath?" Annabeth demands. "I've never seen him act this way. And why would he tell me to talk to you about the gods..." She trails off, noticing Jason's sword on the coffee table. "Is this gold?" she asks. "Do you remember where you got it?"

          "No," Jason shakes his head. "Like I said, I don't remember anything."

          Annabeth nods, though Will could tell just from the pensive look on her face that a plan was being configured. "If Chiron won't help, we'll need to figure things out ourselves. Which means... Cabin Fifteen. Rachel, you'll keep an eye on Piper?"

          "Sure," Rachel agrees. "Good luck, you guys."

          "And Will—" Annabeth begins, turning to the vacant spot beside her. "Will?"

Storming down the hallway, Will no longer bothers to be silent. She'd left after ripping her knife from the table and slipped away unnoticed, disappearing into the shadows and following the familiar path to Chiron's office. Will is still seething as she sheathes Éleos, thinking of how selfish the centaur must be and then thinking of the hypocrisy of her own utterance. But as heartless and immoral as Will is, she won't stand to lose more than she's already lost. She sees him just as he's about to turn the corner.

          "Chiron!" She yells, causing him to spin around in his wheelchair. Her expression turns violent, the light from the high windows making the flames in her eyes look even more garish. "What was that back there?"

          He looks plagued, a tired shadow falling across his face. "Will—"

          "No, you're sending us out there blind. Putting our lives on the line because—what?" She jeers. "You made a promise?"

          "It wasn't just a measly promise. I made an oath," Chiron stresses, though it makes no difference to Will.

          "You're just like them," she spits.

          "Who?"

          "The gods... our parents," Will replies bitterly. "We're pawns to them. They don't care if we live or die. We're here at their disposal and everything else is unimportant. This is vital, Chiron. If you go to war without knowing your enemy, you've already lost." She looks at his expression, sneering in a way that resembles wrathful god. "Gods, this is a dead loss. Why am I even bothering with you..."

          Chiron doesn't take her words to heart, only feels a sting of pity for his student whose trust in him falters. "You'll know more in due time, but Will, they are not your enemy," he says abstrusely.

          "Always so cryptic." she sneers. "If you won't even reveal their identity then they must be a threat and should be dealt with accordingly." There's nothing warm in her voice, nothing soft, only spiteful and overflowing with malice that is beyond her.

          He shakes his head as if he is the one that's disappointed in her. "You've still yet to learn the difference between friend and foe."

          "That's because there is none," she shouts, her temper getting the better of her. Her words come out sharp and lethal, cutting into every available surface and digging deeper into festering wounds. But then her voice goes quiet. "People will only disappoint you in the end... You can't evade this forever, Chiron. Their blood is on your hands."

          "I didn't know you cared so much about the lives of others."

          "I don't," Will contends. Her voice sounds hollow and ungodly as the cursed words leave her lips. "Let the world burn for all I care... Olympus with it."

          "The gods would not take kindly to your words. It's blasphemy," Chiron warns. "Wars have been started for less."

          Will scoffs rancorously, the darkness festering, a visceral feeling deep inside of her. "I know all about war and its consequences..."

note: i know that will might seem like she's being dramatic but she really hates being lied to, even though she definitely lies too. this is definitely going to be something she works on cause we luv character development. also please don't come after me for not having read the last couple books in the pjo series. since will has been at camp half-blood for ten years she was involved with a lot of the events that took place (like the second titan war) but i did not read the last olympian so if i make a reference to something that happened and it's wrong please tell me. like this is actually me rn: 🤡🤡 clown shit