A/N: Edited
*
*
*
Zeus.
King of the Gods.
God of the sky, weather, law and order, destiny and fate, and kingship.
Father of heroes like Heracles, Perseus, and the greatest of them all, Thalia Grace. My sister.
My name is Jason Grace. I am nine -years-old, and I hate Zeus.
I was young when I was first introduced to the concept of him. This woman named Beryl would hold me up at the beach as a thunderstorm raged on. I don't remember everything she'd said —I was two years old, obviously I wouldn't— but there was one thing that stuck with me for years.
That's your father, he left because of you.
Not "he left because he had to." Not "he'll be back someday." No. Because of me.
It stuck like a thorn in my side. Like I had been born wrong somehow, and he couldn't stand to look at me.
I don't remember a whole lot from back then. Just flashes. My sister brushing the knots out of my hair while I squirmed on the kitchen floor. The smell of old perfume and wine from Beryl's coat. This weird old lady who appeared in my room. Once, a stuffed rabbit I used to carry around. His ear fell off when we were hiding under the bed from the monster outside. Thalia said it was a neighbor's dog. I didn't believe her.
Thalia... she was everything back then. My sister. My protector. My entire world.
She never said it, but I know she stayed as long as she did because of me. Beryl was slipping fast, losing touch with reality, picking fights with shadows, yelling at walls. Thalia handled it like she was already older than she was. At seven, she was already a grown-up in a kid's body. Because someone had to be.
She tried to make it fun sometimes. Hide and seek in our apartment. I always picked the same spot behind the curtains. She pretended not to know, every single time.
Then came the day she didn't pretend anymore. We were going on a "vacation," Beryl said. Just the three of us. She packed us into the car with a smile so wide it seemed like her jaw would break.
We drove through rolling hills and oak-lined roads until we stopped at some fancy park with a white building in the middle. Beryl called it a gift. I didn't understand what she meant until she told Thalia to grab the picnic basket.
Thalia didn't want to go. I remember her yelling. I remember clutching her sleeve. I remember the way Beryl's hand pushed her shoulder.
"Just a minute," Beryl said.
That minute stretched into forever. Because Thalia almost didn't come back.
I don't know what would've happened if the goat hadn't shown up.
Yeah. A goat. Sadly it wasn't LeBron.
A white one with curly horns and hooves like thunderclaps. It just wandered in out of nowhere and stared right at me. I laughed. I think I was the only one who wasn't freaked out. Beryl dropped her wine bottle. I remember the crash. Then Thalia's voice again—angry, panicked, cutting through everything.
The goat saved us. A gift from Zeus Thalia had called her. I didn't believe it, but from that moment on, Thalia said we weren't going back. Not ever.
Fast forward a couple months and we ran into this blonde guy who looked like an older scarless version of me.
He said his name was Luke.
We became friends, family even. I learned to even call him my brother —I refuse to believe he had a crush on my sister. No matter what Clarisse says.
Our family was nice, just the three of us. Fighting monsters, skulking around the united states.
We didn't have a home, but we had each other. A backpack stuffed with jerky, duct tape, and fake IDs. A dozen safehouses hidden in the woods or wedged between crumbling buildings. Thalia called it freedom. Luke called it survival. I didn't know the difference yet.
Then came Richmond.
It was summer, maybe. Or close to it. Hot enough that my shirt clung to my back and the cicadas screamed like monsters in the trees. Amaltheia—our goat guide—had led us through half a dozen towns by then, but something about this place was different. She bolted toward this old, broken-down mansion like it was held the answer to ever problem on earth.
Luke hesitated. He always did when we got too close to cities. But he couldn't say no to Thalia. He never could.
The mansion was old, like Civil War old. With boarded windows and doors that groaned like they were in pain. Luke picked the lock like it was nothing—he was good at that, like magically good at it—and then we stepped inside and everything felt wrong.
Halcyon Green was waiting for us. I didn't know what to make of him at first—just this quiet guy with tired eyes and Apollo's sun in his bones. He couldn't speak, not really, he'd use a computer to help communicate with us.
But we were trapped. Cursed to be fed on by the Monsters at sunset.
Hal had saved someone, a girl, using his powers to see the future. The gods didn't like that. So they shut him away, turned his gift into a prison. He brought demigods to the house—not because he wanted to, but because he had to. And we were next.
Thalia was furious. Luke even more so. I remember the way his fists clenched and the fire in his eyes.
We thought about running. But there wasn't time. The leucrotae—three of them—were coming. Big, fast, and nasty. Their voices sounded like human laughter, but wrong. Crooked. Mocking.
Hal said every demigod thought they could beat the curse. That we'd think we were different. Special. Then he told us about the treasure.
We didn't come for treasure. But once he said it, we had to try. That's how demigods are. A whisper of something shiny and powerful, and we can't help ourselves.
The lock guarding the weapons vault should've been impossible. Luke opened it in seconds.
Thalia found a bracelet. A miniature version of Zeus's shield, complete with the Gorgon head and everything. She looked at it like it was a message. A sign. I didn't know if she was proud or angry. Maybe both.
I found a dagger, curved and golden-edged. Hal said it was made from a hydra's fang. It hummed in my hand like it recognized me.
We had weapons, but not a plan. We tried everything—traps, spells, hiding. None of it would've worked.
It was Luke who figured it out. He had gotten this strange look in his eye after Hal had mentioned 'fire'.
"Luke, that would be perfect!" Thalia had said after had searched up the recipe for Greek Fire.
I didn't understand half the ingredients that had been listed, but Thalia made it happen. She called down lightning for the catalyst.
It worked.
We made the fire.
And Hal... Hal chose to stay.
He pressed his diary into Luke's hands. Told him to read it, to learn. There was a warning in his eyes when he looked at Luke. Not angry, not scared—just... sad. Like he already knew how it would go.
He gave Luke a knife too. A shiny bronze dagger. Luke held it like it weighed more than it looked.
Then Hal opened the doors and walked into the dark.
When the leucrotae came, he lit the fire. The explosion rocked the house. Two of them died in the blast. One got away, singed and shrieking. I didn't think anything could scare it—but Thalia raised the Aegis, and it ran. Just like that. The look on her face... I'll never forget it.
We made it out. Barely.
The house came down behind us.
We found a gas station to clean up. Then Luke said he felt something—someone—watching. In an alley nearby, we met Annabeth.
Seven years old. Alone. Hammer swinging in her hand. Shouting about monsters. That's how we knew. Demigod.
Luke crouched down and offered her Hal's dagger.
"Knives are only for the bravest and quickest fighters," he had told her
She came with us that day. Just like that, our family of three became four, even if it just slowed us down.
I wasn't a fan of annabeth at first, she used to many words and phrases when she could have said it in ten words or less.
But I learned to love her as a sister. Which made it hurt a bit when she contemplated joining the hunters.
It wasn't even that she said it out loud. It was the way she stared at them when we crossed paths that winter—eyes wide, caught between awe and something like longing. The Hunters of Artemis were everything we weren't: organized, disciplined, purposeful. They had tents and patrol schedules, matching silver jackets, and faces that didn't flinch when monsters came out of the dark.
I remember that night. The air was cold enough that my breath came out in puffs, and our fire kept trying to die no matter how many times I fed it twigs. Luke was still asleep, curled around Annabeth. Thalia sat with her back to a tree, her chin on her knees.
I crept over to her. She didn't look at me.
"They're not better than us," I whispered.
Her eyes flicked to the clearing where Zoë Nightshade stood watch with two other Hunters. Silent and graceful. Nothing like us at all.
"I know," Thalia mumbled, though she didn't sound very believable.
As we sat in silence I could see Zoë beginning to march over, her eyes trained on my sister.
"Thou art strong," she had stated. "Too strong to wasteth thy time following after a knave who doesn't knoweth wh're he's moving."
I wasn't sure as to what she was saying but Thalia seemed to understand, standing at attention as she glared at the permanent fifteen year old.
"I don't follow anyone." Thalia had declared.
Zoë tilted her head. "Doesn't thee?"
There was this silence. A thick, dangerous pause.
Zoë didn't seem to care for Thalia's growing annoyance, continuing her assessment, "He shall betray thee, thou know'st. The boy. And the little one—" she glanced down toward me— "he shall leave thee to perish."
I shot up, fists clenched —how could she say that? I wouldn't betray Thalia, I would never leave her to die. Thalia grabbed my shoulder, stop ping me from doing something I'd likely regret.
"Go," she said to Zoë. "Before I make you."
Zoë gave a slight bow. "Artemis offers thee a place at our fire, shouldst thou change thy mind. Yet I fear the window closeth."
With that she left, leaving Thalia and I to take in her words.
Thalia didn't sleep that night. Neither did I.
I didn't believe Zoë. Not then. I didn't want to.
Luke had his issues, yeah —he was bossy sometimes, and he acted like he knew everything—but he wouldn't betray us. We were family.
Still, four years later, Thalia's gone because of me, and I'm laying in a tent being cared for by the people who told me I'd leave her to die. And they were right.
A voice outside the tent yanked me out of it.
"Yo, Jason," called Clarisse. "You decent?"
I looked down. My hoodie was dirty and crusted with dried blood—rooster blood—from pretending to kill Alectryon. My jeans had a rip in the knee. Pretty normal for me, honestly.
"Define decent?" I asked, my voice flat.
"Wearing clothes, idiot," she snapped, but it sounded like she was trying not to laugh.
I smirked just a little and sat up. "Yeah, come on in, Potty Mouth."
Clarisse marched in, already groaning. "We should not have let you watch Kids Next Door. That show's melting your brain."
"I'll stop quoting it when you stop dunking kids' heads in toilets."
"Hades, no," she scoffed, flopping down on the empty cot across from mine. "How else are they supposed to learn respect?"
I rolled my eyes and rubbed my temple. "So... why are you here?"
Clarisse pulled a folded-up paper from her cargo pants and held it out like it was gold. "I got one of the Hunters to give us a map. She says the Garden of the Hesperides is somewhere near Chicago."
"Wait—seriously?" I asked in surprise, snatching the paper from her hands. It was hand-drawn, but detailed. Rivers, train tracks, even a weird symbol next to a warehouse. "Who gave you this? I wanna thank her."
"She made me swear not to say," Clarisse said. "Something about not wanting the younger ones to find out."
I nodded. "Still. She helped a lot; now we just need to figure out how to distract Ladon."
"And survive the 'Scourge of Poseidon.'" She added.
Right. That thing.
I frowned. "Are we sure it's 'Scourge'? I swear Luke said the Oracle might've meant 'Bane.'"
"Well, considering a talking bird, two Cyclopes, and my own dad all said 'Scourge of Poseidon'—and the Oracle warned that it'll "burn the path to Ladon's retire"—I'm betting it's real, and bad."
I gave her a look. "Can't be as bad as an Empousa in a cheerleader outfit trying to make out with Luke?"
"We agreed never to talk about her again," Clarisse shuddered.
"Fair," I snickered, handing the map back so she could stuff it into her pocket. "Where is Luke anyway?"
Clarisse scratched her head, "I think the infirmary? I was gonna check up on him after he got his bandages rewrapped"
I nodded and slid off the cot, wincing a little when my feet hit the cold floor. My knees still ached from the climb, and my shoulder felt like it'd been hit by a truck. Technically it was a motorcycle.
Aphrodite was right when she said Ares couldn't drive.
"I'll come with you," I said, tugging on the sleeves of my hoodie to hide the bruises. "Just in case they won't let you in alone."
Clarisse snorted. "They already don't like me. Something about 'threatening the nurse's rat.'"
"You did threaten to shave her ferret," I reminded.
"It was being snippy."
We stepped out into the moonlight. The camp was quieter than usual, the pine trees still, the tents mostly dark. Somewhere near the edge, I could hear a couple of Hunters laughing around a fire. The rest of the place gave off that strict, serious, Artemis-vibe— as if even the dirt was judging you.
I walked beside Clarisse, trying not to limp too obviously.
"You ever think about what happens after we find the apples?" I asked suddenly.
Clarisse raised an eyebrow at me. "You mean, after rob your step mom of sacred fruit, trick a giant hundred headed snake dragon, and maybe die to some sea monster with a cool nickname?"
"Yeah," I said. "Like when Luke actually gets the apple back to Hermes? What then?"
Clarisse fell quiet for a moment, which was rare for her.
"I dunno," she admitted. "I think I'll have to whip my cabin back into shape when we get back to camp, but other than that I got nothing."
I guess that makes sense. I didn't say much in response, only nodding in agreement. I didn't have much to say, I don't have a cabin to whip into shape after all. Hell I don't even have any actual siblings.
I wonder what it's like: living with your siblings. Luke has Hermes Cabin, Annabeth has Athena Cabin, and I have —what? A statue of my father? A lonely space that's never gonna be filled?
We turned a corner past the makeshift stables, moving quietly to not wake the horses. Weirdly enough, when we reached them they were empty. When Clarisse, Luke and I had first arrived there were two sleeping foals. Now there was just patchy spots in the grass, as if someone —or something has burned it.
Clarisse and I followed the smoldering grass all the way to the infirmary, speckles of a red substance growing more common as we approached.
"Jason, stand ready," Clarisse ordered, her spear extending.
I nodded, brandishing my fists as the bracelet's I'd commissioned from the Hephaestus cabin transformed into a pair of bronze cestus as we stepped closer to the nursing tent.
A struggle could be heard from behind the tent, neighing and grunting echoing from within.
I glanced at Clarisse, waiting for her confirmation. That was a dumb decision as she immediately ran inside.
Wasting no time I ran straight in after her.
There wasn't much to see inside as we were then forcefully launching out by a gust of wind and fire.
We hit the ground hard.
I skidded on my back through dirt and ash, blinking up at the sky as Clarisse crashed beside me with a pained grunt. For a moment, I couldn't breathe—my lungs stunned, my vision spinning with colors like a busted kaleidoscope. All I could hear was the wind still howling from inside the tent, like a storm trying to claw its way out of the world.
Clarisse groaned and pushed herself up, her hair smoking at the ends. "What in Tartarus—?"
"Guys!" I heard Luke shout. "Are you okay?"
I forced a breath into my lungs and sat up, coughing as smoke clung to the back of my throat. My chest felt as if it'd been caved in by a battering ram. Next to me, Clarisse spat out a mouthful of dirt and used her spear to get upright, shoulders tense and eyes blazing.
"Peachy," she growled, rubbing a scorch mark on her arm. "Someone want to explain why I just got drop-kicked by the wind?!"
The tent flap fluttered violently as the wind settled. Sparks spat out across the ground, scattering red-hot embers like angry fireflies.
Luke stumbled out of the tent, patting out small fires on his clothes. Following him was Miriam, Phoebe, and this weird looking cloud nymph.
The cloud nymph coughed, waving away the smoke.
"Sorry," they said, waving a strange flaming mass. "I panicked."