✺ HOPE HAS FALLEN ✺
"I still can't believe he's your kid, in all honesty."
Poseidon looks to Hera with his brows furrowed, confusion written plainly on his face. The goddess shrugs, resting her cheek on her fist while watching the magical vision play out.
"I mean"—she blinks in gentle surprise when the silent image of Polyphemus apparently hollers Grover before continuing—"I- I kind of get how, but I don't really get . . . how."
Demeter leans over, pushing her hair off her shoulder. "None of us do. It's weird."
"And it's like that with basically all of them, you know?" Hera says, referring to the amount of monsters that Poseidon has fathered.
"Yep. Really weird."
"Okay—" Poseidon starts, hoping to cut their conversation short, but he pauses upon finding himself with nothing to say. Hades scoffs in amusement at his brother's weak attempt to defend himself.
Demeter jumps in surprise when Hecate enters the room, the large doors slamming open with a gust of air.
Hades bristles at the feel of electricity in the air, rippling shocks that run through his flesh—the source of which, he realizes, is her magic. He tilts his head with intrigue at the sudden strength in Hecate's power, and he stands warily.
Still meditating, Persephone fights the urge to open her eyes as the hair on her arms pricks with static, her veins pulsing quicker.
"Welcome back," Hades greets, shoulders tight with caution.
Zeus looks at him with confusion before glancing at Hecate, unaware of the issue. Hera's gaze shifts between Hecate and Hades, her brow furrowing at the sorceress' relaxation which somehow causes the necromancer's stiffness.
Poseidon, seemingly indifferent, leans forward. "Did your trip give you any answers?"
Hecate's hand brushes over a patch of her cloak, vibrations shooting through her fingertips. Hades eyes the movement carefully.
"Yes and no," Hecate answers, glancing to her darkened corner of the chamber. "I need to keep researching."
"Where was it that you went, again?" Hades asks, his apprehension clear as he clenches his jaw.
Hecate's eyebrow arches slightly, and she pulls her hand away from where the moly resides at her side.
She watches as Hades' eyes flick to the motion, furthering her understanding. "I needed to consult with someone," she says, intentionally withholding the specifics. "They helped me understand what must be done to combine your abilities, but not how to do it."
Hades nods. "Did they give you anything?"
"Yes."
"May I ask what?"
"No."
Hades' eyes narrow as Zeus' focus shifts to Hecate with sudden unease.
The goddess sighs. "Not yet. It will only lead to questions that I do not have time to answer. Now, if you'll excuse me"—she sends a pointed glance at her corner—"I have some work to do." Without another word, she strides towards the shadows, Hades' gaze following her every step.
Persephone stiffens when the sorceress nears, her eyes fluttering open. Her heart thuds when the feel of Hecate's magic stifles the air around her, sudden and great. She glances up in concern, watching as Hecate sighs with resignation.
"You'll know," is all she says to the queen. Persephone furrows her brow, contemplating whether to fully trust Hecate on the matter.
She merely closes her eyes again, rolling her shoulders and refocusing her mind on her daughter, mentally prodding at their blocked connection.
Hecate reclaims her hovering position once more, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She projects her subconscious out, seeking her resources left in the Underworld. The darkened lair builds up around her, glinting with orange light. Stores of herbs line the onyx walls, and her astral form brushes past them, focused on one of the many bookshelves in her space. The tomes, their spines of cracked yet polished leather, light briefly in her spirit's presence; she searches her memory while scanning their titles, mentally running through the practices outlined in each book to discover the ones she needs.
Three bookshelves are searched before the fourth yields a result. The tome is slightly newer than the rest, its binding sturdier and more intact. Hecate flips through the pages, pausing at the entry her memory had believed to be relevant. Depicted before her is the basic linear outline of a human body, specific areas circled with lines jutting out to point to a description.
Hecate had acquired knowledge about all things related to magic and the Mist, including parts of the soul and their function. Over time, regular people came to their own conclusions of spiritual energy—varying cultures (be them Greek or Roman or Indian or Chinese) have different names for these hotspots, where the energy proves most powerful within its unique purpose. The most commonly adopted term amongst humanity, however, is the chakra. Some dismiss the existence of these very energy points, but Hecate's eyes are drawn to one in particular.
Just above the collarbones, at the pit of the neck, is the throat center of spiritual energy—the trachelos. As the multiple centers exercise responsibilities related to logic, emotion, and appetite, the trachelos serves to be a bridge. It allows communication between the immortal and mortal divisions of the soul: the reason of the mind and passions of the body.
Only the purest, most refined form of spiritual energy can pass through—true in essence and tied in physicality.
Hecate commits the information to memory, closing the book and replacing it. She continues on, reaching the second-to-last shelf with a hint of panic.
Her finger runs over three, four, five spines.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
She pauses in realization, the ninth book waiting under her touch, before moving back and frantically pulling the seventh forward.
— x —
Demeter rushes into the meeting chamber, her arms laden with polished goblets. "Okay, so," she pants, approaching Hecate and holding them out to her, "I got a lot. Different sizes, metals, shapes—I mean, you really didn't tell me what you were looking for, and I didn't want to just assume, so here's a variety that you can pick from in case there's anything specific that you need."
Hecate remains quiet through Demeter's rambling, picking up a cup from the collection without even looking. She lifts it briefly, motioning as if to tap another for a toast. "This is fine. Thank you."
Demeter stares, breathless and shocked, before throwing her arms up in frustration and sending everything clattering to the floor. "This is what I get for being nice and offering my help," she grumbles, walking away to rejoin her siblings. "Could've just conjured one of her own. Never again, for that one, never again."
Hecate chuckles and waves her hand for the goblets to vanish.
"Hecate? This looks like something we need to hear," Poseidon says, and Hecate glances over with intrigue. In the vision, (Y/N) stands beside Luke, Golden Fleece in hand. Percy, Annabeth, Grover, Tyson, and Clarisse face her while restrained—each of them look at the daughter of Persephone with confusion, hurt, even anger.
Hecate tries to speak, but hesitates, unsure of what to actually say. The image remains silent.
"Hecate," Poseidon repeats, rising from his seat with narrowed eyes.
Sighing, the sorceress watches as (Y/N) silently affirms her duplicity. "You won't want to," Hecate concedes, almost defeated, "but I think you should."
The sound of (Y/N)'s angered voice fills the room, turning heads to her image.
And the gods listen as the flaws towards their children are laid excruciatingly bare.
— x —
They don't place the blame on anyone. Not verbally, at least.
Hecate silences the vision as hate-filled eyes turn to Zeus. The king adjusts the grip on his master bolt in response, pulling his shoulders back to straighten his spine.
And yet, no one dares to speak.
They send curses with their eyes and anger ripples through the air, but the silence remains unbroken.
Poseidon, however, keeps his focus on his sons, clenching the armrest of his chair. The cool stone grows warm under his palm, his grip tightening with every passing moment.
Evander's crossbow bolt pierces Tyson's heart.
The marble crumbles away in his hand. Shards dig into his skin, his knuckles trembling with pressure.
(Y/N) kicks his body over the cliff edge.
Chunks of stone clatter to the floor, Poseidon's eyes wide with shock.
— x —
(Y/N) enters a darkened portion of the cave, the Golden Fleece slung over her forearm.
Moments later, she emerges, arms bare while her hand clasps a pen in replacement.
— x —
A sword flies through the air, its blade nearly crashing down on Annabeth Chase's skull. Inches from her face, shadows rise to catch the weapon, holding it in midair before pulling it away.
(Y/N)'s outstretched hand trembles, her eyes wide with terror.
— x —
The indent of a thin chain remains in her skin as she kneels, stones digging into her palms while she gasps for breath.
A trickle of blood runs down Percy's neck as he breathes her name in desperation, hope, terror, heartbreak. She looks at him, the decision already made.
"I'm not letting you die."
— x —
Her scream rings through the air as poison enters her system, blood pouring freely from her arm as her body seizes.
Lights flood her vision as agony overtakes her, yet she refuses to pray to the gods for her salvation. Her faith grows dimmer each second, allowing her life to slowly blink out.
Persephone, panic-stricken, grips the connection and forces herself inside.
— x —
Hecate gives out orders, instructing each god of their purpose while repeatedly glancing to the vision. No one dares to question her, immediately obeying and setting their differences aside.
The sorceress refrains from showing her true anxiety and dread, making sure to keep both Hades and Persephone busy.
Taking deep breaths, she hopes to Rhea that she'll accomplish her task.
And she curses the world for the way it must be done.
— x —
They hadn't expected her to die.
The gods all knew that (Y/N) was skilled enough to fend off Evander. Her duel with him was nothing close to surprising.
"I still don't know whether you're suffering or not. Because of all of this," Evander says, eyes sad. (Y/N)'s sword presses agains his chest, his arms limp at his sides.
(Y/N) clenches her jaw, adjusting the hold on her hilt. "Because of what you've done with Luke? Or because of what you refused to tell me?"
Evander sighs, neglecting to give an answer.
(Y/N) pushes the blade further into his chest, just slightly. Her next words are calculating and cold: "How do you know my story?"
Zeus tenses with each mention of (Y/N)'s life, his memories replaying and nearly begging to be revealed to the rest of his siblings.
She notices his reaction, but Hecate chooses not to press the matter.
"Do it," Evander says, keeping eye contact with a terrible force.
"No."
"Why? Because you need answers from me?"
Hera watches as (Y/N) explains her decision, fiddling with her thumbs.
Demeter repeatedly tugs on a curl, barely blinking.
She pulls her weapon away. "Because you haven't given me a good enough reason to."
Hades narrows his eyes.
Persephone bites her nails.
Poseidon leans forward with intrigue.
"Well, that's a shame."
Hecate braces herself.
His foot pivots slightly, and (Y/N)'s ears twitch. The moment the son of Eurus moves towards her turned back, she spins on her heel, angling her sword.
"No!" Persephone screams, tears instantly springing to her eyes when Evander attacks.
Evander doesn't even notice the blade he runs himself into as he pulls a dagger from (Y/N)'s belt, pushing it into her heart.
Hades's eyes grow to match the blood that escapes (Y/N)'s wound, the air in the chamber filling with heat. The moment she falls, he gasps, feet no longer steady.
A rush of power shocks him, joining his abilities with the familiarity of a memory, touched by another's use—the very anchor he had sacrificed for her life so long ago, now returned to him as her need for it disappears.
He shakes his head, ears ringing. It could have stayed, it could have healed her, she would still be all right—
No.
Right now? After the blade has left, her heart pierced?
How foolish of him to think.
His breaths shorten, teeth grinding while his chest twists. He can visualize the preparations for her arrival; he feels the workings of his kingdom as she finally, properly, actually dies. Staring at her image, he can almost see the way her soul clings onto life, just a moment longer, before surrendering to the Ker.
Tears beg to fall, but Hades doesn't let them. Sorrow would do him no good, now.
But anger? Oh, anger was a beautiful thing, a ripe motivator when one needed it to be.
Hades wasn't angry. He was plain furious.
A roar grows in his throat, but before its release, a different sound makes itself known. Persephone, wailing, screaming, crying at the loss of her child.
His heart breaks, and he silently holds his distressed wife, who sobs into his chest.
"What do we do now?" Demeter whispers in defeat.
No one provides an answer.
Persephone looks at Hecate, her glossy eyes on fire. "You said she would be safe!"
The sorceress gives her queen an apologetic shake of her head. "I said no such thing."
"You were supposed to tell me how to protect her!"
"My lady—"
"You killed her!"
Hestia tries to comfort Persephone, but Hades shakes his head.
Hecate, however, appears unmoved. "If you want to look at it that way, then, yes," she says, so calm she might have been answering whether she wanted a glass of nectar. "I killed her. She needed to die, anyway."
Hades' turns his blood-red gaze onto the sorceress as Persephone chokes on another sob. His siblings look at Hecate with the same shock, each one wary of her possible motives.
"'After Hope has fallen, the Father's rise shall be complete.' Hope has, indeed, fallen. Been lost, in a sense, and been killed in a much more real one," Hecate explains, slightly wincing when Persephone's face crumples. "Kronos will now rise to his full potential."
Zeus holds his master bolt out while Poseidon's trident forms in his hand.
"Explain yourself right now," Zeus orders, and Hecate shrugs.
"I just did. Kronos was going to come back; that much is inevitable. But when he is fully alive, he can be fully killed."
"They just lost their most valuable asset," Poseidon hisses, gesturing to the teenagers who run to their friend in desperation.
"She is a child, Poseidon. Not an asset," Hecate corrects, her eyes firm.
"You know what I meant. They need her."
"And now we do." Hecate looks around the chamber, explaining: "Your powers require a vessel to combine in, yes? Who do you think already has experience with manipulating abilities from multiple gods?"
Her gaze lands on Hades and Persephone, the king tense while his queen's weeping gradually quiets.
"You refuse to interfere with her world," Hecate says, her focus returning to Zeus, "so this is the solution."
"Her death?" Hera asks, earning a sigh.
"Her soul," the sorceress corrects, "and her nature. My ritual is centered around your essence. That, along with hers. If fortune smiles upon us, our offense will emerge more powerful than we could have ever dreamed."
Demeter swallows. "And if it doesn't?"
(Y/N)'s lips turn up in a distant smile, her arm outstretched on the ground, reaching for her friends.
Just as blood seeps out of her body, the light in her eyes drains, revealing nothing more than empty glass.
Hecate takes a breath to center herself, her body tense.
"Then may Rhea save us all."
———
aaand we're finally working back up to the present! things will start connecting back to Fall in the next chapter ;)
if any of you have tips for packing up a room to move pls drop them in the comments bc I've been procrastinating on that and am in dire need of advice lol
thank you all again for your patience with this update and all the support you've given! much love <3
breaking the serious mood a tiiiiiiny bit (or a lot) with the meme but it's whatever lol