Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dear Fantastic Readers,

I hope you all are doing well, and are happy, healthy, and safe. I have written this letter to regretfully inform you that this story will, from this point forward, be going on an IRREGULAR HIATUS. Note the IRREGULAR. NOT INDEFINITE, NOT COMPLETE. IRREGULAR. I’ll explain that in a minute, but first I must explain the reasons for departure (you can skip straight to the emboldened part after this):

When I first started writing this story, I was in the middle of some important-and-difficult exams. I decided that life couldn’t get harder than that and that I could sustain posting it regularly. Spoiler alert: it somehow got worse. Yep. And now in my new semester, my marks are coming in negatives and I’m dumber than dumb, which means I need to work hard.

I’ve been riding turbulent waters and my boat is tearing apart, so I must throw some things overboard. Unfortunately, it’s this story. I get that I’m making a mountain out of a mole-hill, seeing as I’ve barely posted like 5 chapters, but there’s a lot of BTS work that goes on in the story, even though you only see this cleaned-up bit.

For the “irregular” explanation:

I still want to continue this story. I’ve given way too many formative years of my life to this. HENCE,  I AM NOT GOING TO STOP WRITING.

Instead I just don’t want a bunch of extra responsibility because God knows I can’t cope under stress. So you can expect IRREGULAR UPDATES. As in I can update this after four months and then immediately the next day. (This won’t happen, this is just an example.) As I’ve mentioned before, I just really want to do my best for this story, and I’m sorry, but I just don’t like writing for the sake of completing it. I want to relish it. I have big plans for this story, and I don't want to fail myself.

Again, I’m not entitled to even tell you guys this, but I offer to you a parting gift: I’ve outlined my story completely, I’ve rounded off the character development and arcs for everybody, and I’ve written some of the chapters ahead of CHP5 - except that they’re in the first draft stage and I don’t have the time to edit the very well at the moment, so I won’t update them.

To Conclude: Do not expect regular updates. Although I’m still writing this story, I’m doing it at a pace I can manage without affecting the quality of the chapters or skimping on real-life responsibilities.

Thank you all for understanding. I know I’ve driven away so many of you readers right now, and I’m really sorry for not living up to your expectations.

Until next time.

P.S.: If you want to chat with me or ask for updates, here’s the Discord for this story and here’s my tumblr account.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

None of this was.

But how could they expect him to be like this? To honor an agreement that they all knew was a farce?

And, really, why did he care?

Everything was going wrong, and it was mostly not his fault.

***

Outside the grimy hospital window, the world seemed to be cracking like marble. Christmas was yelling for recognition from all corners of the city – and it seemed, so were the people. Tensions were running high, and it seemed that every person living in the city had descended upon toy and gift shops like some kind of sentient, buzzing hive, to fulfill the obligations of mid-winter festivals and gifts and regret their lack of time management. A sweet, cloying, slightly tangy scent filled the air; blazing lights and Christmas trees glared menacingly everywhere you looked.

Despite all this activity, there seemed to be a sort of addictive, frenetic happiness in the air – the type that the Gods back in Olympus used to feed on to satisfy their carnal desires. Trust me, people were more drunk on hope during mid-winter festivals than they would be if they downed vats of liquor in one sitting.

Prometheus did give them this wonderful gift of slavery, even though the Gods were too short-sighted to appreciate him fully back then. But that’s a story of eons ago.

In any other decade, Poseidon would be back in Olympus, on his barnacle-covered throne, complaining about light pollution with Artemis, getting drunk with Zeus to spite Dionysus, or engaging in acts of satisfying his carnal desires with nymphs. At this moment, though, jubilant festivity could not affect Poseidon’s typhoon-ridden soul – for he deigned to repent his mistake – well, one of.

He sighed, head in his hands. It ached as if Athena herself was banging his head relentlessly, vengefully, and this time it wasn’t the type of pain that Hephaestus could remove by just splitting his head in half – this was the type of pain that traversed through his whole system, as if setting his golden blood on fire. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it made him feel discomfited and uneasy.

Now, Gods weren’t ones to repent. Their past was so enormous, filled with so much tragedy and so many mistakes that could have gone right, that if they sought to think about it all, they would be crying and thinking for the rest of eternity. And then presumably regret that too.

Just something else, he’d managed to convince himself. Just another one of them he needed. He should have known about his lack of self-control and Sally’s immensely fertile, disease-ridden self. He should have known. But he was not Apollo; he was neither prophetic nor did he care about such persnickety things such as “prophecies” and “fates” that did not interest him.

Poseidon should have known all this. He was apparently the cause of another poor woman’s death, a woman too stubborn to give up mothering his child.

Oh, yes, that’s right – he had another child now. A demigod daughter – his first, if he were to count. Were this birth under, quite literally, any other circumstances, the girl would have been celebrated for years and her mother would be treated like a Goddess – one of the minor ones, though. Except in this case, it could not happen because, well, there was that minor setback of said mother having died and the child having nowhere to live. Somehow, he was responsible.

Poseidon sighed again; his discomfort had increased in intensity and effect. He was somehow one of the only two people waiting outside the maternity halls and one of four in the entire hospital. Excluding staff, of course. The nurse had brought him news of Sally’s death about ten minutes ago, and apparently, the baby was so malnourished that she had been taken to the ICU for the moment. The nurses had given him his time to process and the other expecting father beside him was giving him sympathetic glances, while probably hoping his wife and baby did not suffer the same fate. 

It was only when a nurse in front of him was waving a death and birth certificate in front of him that he was pulled out of his self-pitying reverie (honestly, what a sticky situation he was in).

Poseidon didn’t think much in naming his child – his first demigod daughter. He wondered for a few moments more how celebrated he would have been back home, but the thought soon dissipated in favor of more threatening ones like Zeus turning him into a human again. Insufferable. He wouldn’t ever reveal this secret.

Poseidon wrote the name, ‘Cari Sally Jackson’ in his perfect cursive, signing at the end of the birth certificate, preening at his compassion in naming the child after Sally – knowing how much Sally would have appreciated him. Poseidon made a mental note of commissioning one of Apollo’s muses in Olympus to sing an epic of his sublimely sensitive behavior toward humans.

He offered the certificates back to the waiting nurse. She lingered for a moment, then gave him a “I’m sorry for your loss. Merry Christmas,” in a clipped, curt tone and walked off in her stilettos. This gave the other man permission to offer condolences. He clapped him on the back, gravely telling him, “Sorry mate. She must have been wonderful.”

Poseidon sighed again, more out of shock than desperation, and walked off without responding or even acknowledging he heard him. The man would be blessed if he sat next to Poseidon, even clapping him on the back, even though he would never know his identity. Oh, he should include this in his request to the muses.

The nurse had offered to let him watch Sally’s body and hold the child a little before she was gone, but he just didn’t do all this sentimentality. A foreign emotion was tugging at the back of his mind; his tear ducts were dry yet full of emotion, and his body seemed to be preparing to fight and destroy yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Somehow, not only his head but his entire body was aching with a certain type of longing – he almost thought he was losing the ability to live before he dismissed this silly thought and realized that even he didn’t “do” anything to keep himself alive, he wouldn’t die – Gods were the opposite of death.

Maybe he should have accepted the nurse’s offer to see Sally one last time. Poseidon knew he’d gotten overly attached to her, and it wasn’t just the satisfaction of carnal pleasures (they’d only done that once and look where it got them). It was something entirely different. He couldn’t label it as “love”. He didn’t feel love. He didn’t feel that much, period. Suddenly, hot liquid streamed down his face, and he was so shocked that it stopped. Was he bleeding? Was someone trying to poison him? Collect his blood? If he had no wound, what was going on? Is this what heartbreak feels like to humans? No wonder they constantly complain about feeling like dying – this is torture. Imagine bleeding without a wound, blood clouding your eyes. At least it was easier on him because of his golden blood, but human blood was an eyesore. 

When Poseidon wiped his cold cheeks, he saw that the residue on his hands was not his was shimmery elixir – instead, it was water.

Water. What he came from and where he was going. Something that both created him and destroyed him. 

Tears. He was crying for Sally Jackson, no less. He’d seen his subjects do it before when he was younger, but he’d never cried before. He was crying, of all petty things, over an extraordinary dead mortal and her extraordinary child. Now that he wasn’t shocked anymore, emotion overtook him, and he kneeled on the floor of the lobby pathetically and broke down in waterworks. The antiseptic scent was cloying under his nose, and he could practically feel the germs on the hospital floor lobby. The lights stung his eyes more than pompous Apollo. The nurse on the front table also thought it was permissible to comfort him – honestly, he was a God. He didn’t need such human things as “comfort”.

Then again, there he was, crying on the floor of a mortal hospital – over a mortal, no less – and was complaining about human emotions.

The nurse patted him awkwardly on the back. “There, there. It will all be fine, dear. Christmas spirit is in the air.”

Poseidon wanted to cry. Yell. Break something. Instead, he shook her off and continued crying, his quiet sobs a horrible parody of the tinny Christmas jingles blasting through the hospital's speakers. Oh, Ouranos. What was going on with him? He really needed to get a hold of himself. He got off the floor of the hospital lobby, straightened his Hawaiian button-up, and strode off into freezing New York as if he hadn’t just been wailing in front of the mortal. He was a God. He’d better start acting like himself again.

Despite his best efforts to block all un-Godly thoughts from his mind, one returned to him like iron to a magnet, sticking to the front of his brain and demanding all attention.

The baby would have no home to live in.

He couldn’t just leave her, in an orphanage that too – too dangerous for such a formidable child, with the blood of Gods and the most extraordinary mortal. But where else could he keep her? Taking her to Atlantis was as if serving Zeus the opportunity to banish him to Tartarus for all eternity and murder his unco daughter on a golden platter with side dishes. He could keep her on Calypso’s Island – but he didn’t really trust her to not betray him to Zeus and start another war. She was close with Hermes and very lonely – besides, Hermes had a knack for extracting secrets from lonely people. He wasn’t very close with Hermes, either way – and he would definitely have no problem blabbing to Zeus.

Poseidon sighed again, wringing his cold hand through his silken hair. This was such a sticky situation. He could feel the sea in him, toiling in puzzlement, anger, and grief all at once. He might have killed some mortals somewhere on Earth due to the force of his emotional typhoons, but he didn’t exactly care.

The lights were on everywhere in New York City except his heart. He walked to the Empire State Building, to Olympus preparing for mid-winter and the Winter Solstice meeting, thinking of Sally Jackson the whole time. Sally Jackson, with her exemplary personality. Sally Jackson, with her stupid jokes and dreams of being an author, all down the drain now. Sally, was the only mortal who could make him cry. Sally Jackson, the light touches and heavy ones. His memory of her was suddenly so acute and painfully sharpened, tinged at the edges with iron-scented regret.

As the grief settled in like an anvil, he thought he should have taken up the nurse’s offer to see her one last time. Tears threatened to fall out of his eyes again due to this regret, but Poseidon angrily wiped it away.

He was a God. And Gods didn’t retrospect.

***

Well, at least he had a few days till Cari was released from the ICU. She felt like another burden on his shoulders, another thing that reminded him of Sally Jackson. But he had to do this for Cari – he’d even named her after Sally and him. At least he could think of somewhere to keep her till she was released.

So that was a priority removed. His next most petrifying possibility was any of the Gods finding out and snitching to Zeus, subsequently starting another war. He ticked off the mental list in his head while the elevator moved agonizingly slowly up to the 600th floor.

Athena was the first of the most threatening ones. She was Zeus’ most favoured and execrated Poseidon the most. But she had no means of knowing – Poseidon could and had outsmarted her in the past before. But if he managed to hide it from the other gods, he might not even have to run her in circle – but this was a theory that couldn’t be trusted and most of everyone knew that theories couldn't be built on an almighty "if". Whatever, he'd think about the Athena-situation later.

Aphrodite would sense this heartbreak (again he cursed Sally Jackson for this burden), but he could hide it, telling her it was a nymph who refused his advances. But then again, Aphrodite would be preoccupied with teasing Hades with his love for Persephone.

Oh, right, Hades. Another weak link. Since this was the only festive event he was allowed to attend, he would surely attend it like a pompous show. He would surely sense the air of death and despair around him; Poseidon would be sure to steer clear of him the next day. Which wouldn’t exactly come across as unseemly, because they shared a mutual loathing towards each other. Poseidon didn’t really remember where that stemmed from, or if he did, he didn't care enough to hate him, and he was just doing it to humour Hades hoping he would know the know-how.

The elevator stopped at that exact moment, the speaker gently announcing the entrance to glorious Olympus, the abode to his pleasures. Except, at that moment, Olympus wasn’t an escape, a place to pursue his desires. He was still busy thinking about Cari and the Gods.

Hephaestus would be too concerned about catching Aphrodite and Ares publicly, Ares would lust over Aphrodite, Artemis would return late from hunts, and Dionysus would complain about his restriction from alcohol. Hera would be yelling at Zeus for some or the other affair, and Zeus would be trying to console her. Hermes was definitely not an option – neither was Apollo. They both could keep in their wine better than they could keep in others’ secrets. Poseidon almost scowled, before remembering he was under watch here – and anything unseemly would lead to suspicion. 

He relaxed his shoulders, putting a casually jovial expression on his face. He’d changed from his Hawaiian button-up and cargo shorts in favor of a more comfortable chiton and his trademark trident. The lush green trees and sweetly singing satyrs serenaded him from everywhere. Somewhere next to him, he heard some nymphs giggling.

“Lord Poseidon! Catch me, won’t you?” flirted one in a lilting voice, before bursting into giggles again with her friends. He gave her a flirtatious look of his own, saying, “Only if you run, beautiful.”

As was expected, they all ran off into the expansive woodlands together, giggling about how revered Poseidon acknowledged their presence.

He sighed, happily this time. He was respected here. But thoughts of Cari and Sally niggled deep into his mind, like constant reminders of what he’d lost. They sat on him like anchors for steamships. He spotted other groups of nymphs and almost took them into his bed before realizing what he was supposed to be focusing on.

There was still the matter of where Cari would stay – it truly seemed like filthy mortal “orphanages” were his last option. Remained the matter of the broken oath on Styx – only Styx knows what would happen to him as punishment. What would happen if – 

“What would happen if Zeus found out what you’ve done, Poseidon?” a horribly familiar voice from behind him spat menacingly.

He could recognize that voice anywhere. Athena.

Poseidon’s mind immediately went to wondering if she somehow came to know about Cari and Sally. But he composed himself and expelled these silly thoughts. How would she even come to know? He’d hidden it so well. It must be something else. He turned around slowly to face the grey-eyed goddess.

She was wearing a light chiton, and her owl was sitting at her shoulders. “Running to Daddy for every little thing, are we now, Athena?” Poseidon smirked at her.

Athena sneered back. “You very well know what you’ve done, Poseidon. Zeus will be happy to banish you from Olympus when he finds out. Was Tartarus on your vacation spot this year, hmm?” She asked him in a bemused but still somehow a curt tone that invited no further conversation. But Poseidon maintained his cool composure. She really could be talking about everything else apart from Cari.

Poseidon opened his mouth to answer, but Athena cut him off, looking eager about something.

“What, you didn’t realize?” She chuckled a bit, which looked odd on a face used to grim composure. “Gabby here told me,” she pointed to an eclectic-looking satyr with a blush across his cheeks – probably at being acknowledged by Athena, “that mortal nurses don’t wear heels on duty. And maybe if you weren't wailing like a mad-man over mortals, maybe you could have realized it.”

Poseidon’s blood ran cold. Oh, shit. The nurse in stilettos who'd given him the sign. Of course. He should have known.

Athena gave a wild, maniacal laugh, knowing she’d hit the bullseye. “Cari Sally Jackson? You can do much better, barnacle brain. Any child of mine could deduce that in a second – but then again, they wouldn’t have to…”

While Athena went off on another one of her signature rants, Poseidon's mind worked faster than it had in centuries, trying to figure out ways to diffuse this situation. Shit. Oh, Zeus and Ouranos and all of Olympus! What was he going to do now? Hopefully, Athena would not snitch to Zeus and start another war – only Apollo knows what would happen to him, that too on top of whatever punishment the Styx was going to bestow on him.

Wait. War. Athena would not want war. He could maybe play on that.

He interrupted Athena and her long rants with pleasure - he couldn’t bear to hear her gloating for a second more.

“Athena. Do you want war?” Poseidon spoke in a hushed voice, hoping he was threatening enough even with the limit on his most threatening part: his loud voice. Athena shut her mouth, deliberating while looking curiously at him.

“No."

“Then do not tell Zeus,” Poseidon did not care about appearances now, just wishing his point would get across. He realized belatedly that she was presumably trying to hold back her laughter, as if Poseidon had done something to be mocked. He bristled at this insult to his abilities, feeling that flare of anger rise up in him once again - but he decided he would deal with it later.

Athena seemed to be contemplating, and a moment later, she said, looking very happy indeed:

“On the condition that you give me Cari Sally Jackson.”

Poseidon could not believe his ears, immediately forgetting his plans of revenge.

“Give you? What do mean give you? She’s not mine to give!”

Athena merely smirked.

“You heard right, barnacle brain. It doesn’t seem like there is any other place for her to stay, and I know you want neither war nor a trip to Tartarus. Pathetically crying isn’t an option here.”

So she'd seen him on the hospital lobby floor. Again Poseidon felt that familiar, bitter anger in him and snuffed out the spark before it could spread. Later, he promised himself.

Poseidon wouldn’t ever entrust Athena of all people with his child, one that could potentially bring glory to him, but he now realized that if Zeus ever found out about Cari, bloody “war” would be an understatement.

But Poseidon hadn’t even seen her yet. Once again, he felt the rage bubbling in him, thrashing like a man spurned.

“I’ll bring her to you from the hospital myself,” Poseidon looked into her eyes, trying to maintain some dominance. Oh, how he hated this pathetic excuse of a Goddess. Well, he'd take her revenge later.

Athena smiled as if she already knew his answer, grey eyes lighting up like Christmas trees. Well, ‘Twas the season.

“Oh, no need, Poseidon. I already have her here.”

Of course. It was Athena who he was talking to. Statistics did eliminate the presence of most surprises. Athena clapped her hands, and two blushing satyrs brought a baby towards her. The baby in question was swaddled in a fluffy grey towel, which she was actively trying to escape from. She looked extremely pale and sickly.

“You can hold her once,” Athena muttered begrudgingly, dumping her unceremoniously in Poseidon’s arms. Cari opened her eyes then, groggy from sleep, crying immediately – a harsh, light sound. Poseidon and Athena flinched, used to mortal sounds but not those of a mortal child, which were somehow both loud and lacking in the cadence and structure that the Gods preferred in their speech. Even so, Poseidon felt waves of grief and shock drown him.

Cari’s eyes were of a vibrant teal-green hue. His eyes. Sally Jackson’s eyes.

Chapter Text

Calypso couldn’t breathe.

The air around her was suffocating, heavy, and sterile. It could barely enter her lungs before it would rush out, leaving her panting and chasing the palpability of being alive. Her hand shook around the teacup she held, shaking so violently that she dropped it, spilling the hot liquid all over her newly laundered chiton. This gave her a slight, sharp burn on her thighs before the humid feeling returned. The teacup shattered near the legs of the chilly wooden table, the glass shards digging into her bare feet.

Good. That was good. The pain helped ground her. She dug her feet into the glass shards, whimpering slightly from the sensation. Her eyes, previously closed instead of composing herself, flew open.

"You want me to do what?"

Hermes, sitting on the chair in front of her, looked at Athena. They shared a nasty look before he turned his bright yellow-golden eyes back at her.

“Calypso, we want you to care for this young one—" Hermes enunciated his syllables, repeating them in a tone used for speaking condescendingly to children.

“No, I heard you the first time. I am just in disbelief,” Calypso interrupted, wringing her hands together. Hermes nodded approvingly in her general direction, refusing to look directly at her. Oh, so he continued to insist on acting like a man-baby.

Calypso dug her feet further into the glass shards on the rickety terrain, crushing a few more delicate pieces of the only China she owned. Well, no more tea parties in the garden, then. The baby swaddled in grey towels, held awkwardly in Athena’s arms began to wail, both Hermes and Athena flinched at the harsh sound.

“Do you not understand the implications of your exorbitant demands? How do you expect me to raise a mortal – “

“A demigod—" Athena corrected.

“ – A demigod, yes, fine. Has your youth finally rotted your brains? Can you not see sense?” Calypso barrelled on sarcastically. Athena’s startlingly grey eyes took on a darker tinge – Calypso recognized this expression as the one she made when her ego was bruised. Well, then. She’d hit the mark.

“Calypso, we assure you that this plan has been well thought out You are merely a means of achieving our goals of keeping Poseidon’s offspring—" Athena spat that out more viciously than Calypso could ever imagine coming from her.

“- safe and secure till she is old enough to transport to a safer location. We request that you trust us and the provisions we have made.”

Calypso could tell that Athena was significantly irked by this question to her authority, and Calypso expected nothing less than Zeus’ favored, uppity child. She recognized the power dynamics Athena was trying to establish here but refused to give her the satisfaction of dominance. She might be only a nymph, but a mere “nymph” does not get isolated on an island, cursed to love anyone that entered its barriers. She was smart and a big threat to Zeus’ ideologies of ultimate fascism.

The air around Calypso choked her, somehow contracting her heavy lungs. The sky above them had taken on an azure hue, the sweet, slightly spicy scent of moonflowers filled her nostrils and consequently her head with that familiar giddy feeling.

Calypso took a deep breath – which, again, barely reached inside her lungs till it was forced out again – and a sharp, throbbing pain stabbed through Calypso’s forehead. What was happening to her? She wrung her hands again, and forced herself to relax against the cold wooden weaving of the backing of her chair, trying to make it look as if she was deliberating regally when instead she was merely suffering one of her respiratory fits yet again.

Calypso opened her eyes, shocked, when a cold hand slithered over her tense ones. She unconsciously dug the soles of her feet deeper into the glass shards, practically squirming in her seat now. She could recognize that touch anywhere, everywhere, even if she was dipped in the Lethe, she would never forget what Hermes did to her and did with her.

“My love, please accept – “

“Hermes, please,” Calypso hissed. Finally, finally, Calypso felt the cold, silver liquid flowing downwards from her feet, wetting the shards of glass. The puncture wound felt like a sweet release of pressure from her head – that was recently intent on squishing her immortal brains into mush.

She turned her attention completely to Athena, forcefully pulling her hand away from under Hermes’. She had no business with him, and he should have no business with her. No, she refused to pay mind to the memories accompanying that touch, poking at the edges of her mind. She pushed them away before they could distract her.

“You say you have thought this plan out. Why help Poseidon? Your petty rivalry with him is quite famous, seeing as it has reached the remote island of Ogygia.” Calypso couldn’t resist tacking on the pathetic barb there, but what could she say? She enjoyed disconcerting her captors, even if it was in the most pathetic.

Her captors. Lies. Darkness. 

Another breath choked itself in Calypso’s throat, refusing stubbornly to move. Her eyes almost watered with the effort to keep it lodged till it turned into a cough – which she could easily keep down her throat now. Practice. Please breathe. He’ll be gone in some time. Please breathe, she coaxed herself till her natural breathing rhythm was back – or as natural as it would get with the panic steadily increasing, filling her up and drowning her.

Athena’s gaze grew darker and darker, but she – extremely determinedly – focused downwards on the squalling baby and how to calm it down. Calypso usually wasn’t affected by mortal voices but this one grated on her eardrums. Still, she forced herself to look unperturbed to try to gain the upper hand. A wayward wind spirit of hers flew too close to her and she, yet again, dug her bleeding feet into the glass shards before she sent it away.

“I can admit that helping Poseidon’s spawn isn’t in the best of my interests right now,” Athena visibly shuddered, looking disgusted. She looked like she wanted to throw the baby down a cliff like Hermes told her Hera had done with Hephaestus, but then again remembered her aim.

“But preventing my father from declaring war against Poseidon and obliterating the mortal world in his ego-induced rage is not exactly something you’d want to see.”

Calypso realized she'd gotten lucky. Athena wore her heart on her sleeve and she could see exactly how she felt about all the Olympians.

“I see. And my part comes in here when I must be a caretaker for this girl for ten years, till she is protected in Camp Half-Blood’s borders, where Zeus could just as easily strike her down and declare war as he could if he were here now.”

Again, Calypso couldn’t resist. The pain in her feet seemed to have lost its potency, and she now started picking on the skin of her forearms, willing her nails to grow longer and sharper and hopefully pierce through her bones. Out of her field of vision, Hermes gave a sharp, impatient exhale. Calypso knew that sound, it shuddered through her, reverberating through her skull most painfully. Again, she forced herself to breathe, ignoring the weight of her memories. She almost started tearing up again before she remembered where and when she was.

We can go through all this later, she promised herself, although she knew she never would – that’s what she’d been doing for millennia. Push down all her emotions, her thoughts, her opinions - it was plenty clear they wasn't needed. Besides, to feel was to change and Titans never change.

Athena gave her a strained grimace as she finally managed to calm Cari down by shoving her thumb in her mouth. Interesting, Calypso thought. She needed to remember this trick for later.

“You are smarter than you let on, Calypso,” Athena begrudgingly forced out.

Calypso snorted at the particularly pathetic and hilarious attempt of Athena’s at flattery, turning her neck and disguising it as a chest-grating cough. When she turned back again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Athena was scowling.

“You must trust me in this, Calypso. We require your services to raise Cari Sally Jackson as your own for ten years, till the tenth Winter Solstice from now.”

Ah, yes. There it was. There it finally was. The begging she’d been waiting for. For Athena to finally acknowledge that she needed her, not the other way around. Calypso smirked, feeling her nails finally break her skin. Her cold, silver ichor flowed down her forearm in thin rivulets, almost itchy to her sensitive skin from all the pulling at it. All this satisfaction culminated in Calypso responding to Athena’s flawed reasoning with an affirmative and Athena looked extremely pleased to unceremoniously dump Cari Sally Jackson in her arms before quickly disappearing in the extremely flashy and showy burst of golden light – a randomly conjured owl hooting after her for good measure (but presumably meant to show off her power and scare Calypso).

Hermes still sat at her table, finally looking at her with some or the other expression she wasn’t exactly interested in deciphering - a huge pivot from the way she used to soak in all of Hermes’ attention just a few centuries ago. She instead focused on cooing at the wrinkled infant Cari, looking white as a baby moonflower petal.

Hermes wilfully stared at her for some more time before he exhaled sharply, tromped off the garden walkway, and disappeared in his equally shiny burst of light.

Calypso was alone, then, yet again. The pain in her viscera caused by this realization had reduced to a dull, faint ache, only there if you concentrated hard. Ten years. Ten years she needed to care for the munchkin, ten years more, and eons after that would she remain the Olympians’ pawn, a tool for their pleasures.

The pressure around Calypso’s head had greatly reduced, leaving her with a steep feeling of vacancy, almost making her wish that horrible, stabbing pain was back. She stared at the baby for a minute longer, watching her cold ichor drip on the baby’s forehead, watching her flinch unconsciously. She adorably shifted in her grey attire, continuing to suckle on her thumb.

Ten years. She’d better get started, then.

Chapter Text

Entry: No one is on my island. I am alone and I need some solace away from that crying menace. I hate the Olympians. I hate them so much for doing this to me. I will rip their guts out when I am free from that monster. I will do everything they have done to me; effect increased a thousand-fold. I will –

Entry: That wretched baby just doesn’t stop crying for something or the other. Even my other daughter did not cry that much. All my plants are dying because she needs to be fed every few hours, and I can’t even tend to my garden after... (lesson learned after that last incident). I’ve never seen any child that resists my singing so obstinately. I tried dunking her in water, except that made it worse. I swear, if Poseidon doesn’t find me Odysseus soon then I shall purge this entire world from Gods.

I activated the wind spirits yet again – and they do their best to help, except that this task is just so burdensome that I feel like crying alongside the baby. She reminds me painfully of Nausinous and Nausithous when they were younger, pudgy round faces and voices that could be heard from the ends of the earth. Hopefully they are back with Odysseus soon.

Entry: Today was a particularly horrible day. I felt like throwing Cari down into the ocean surrounding Ogygia – which I refrained from doing, thankfully. My daughter was certainly less annoying than her. What is wrong with me? I can’t even take care of Cari! I can’t do anything right! And Cari’s so pale, she feels like wet paper in my hands every time I try to pick her up. She keeps on crying so much, it’s so annoying. I keep feeling like I’ll break her. I want to kill myself. I wish being immortal wasn’t such a curse. I wish those stupid Olympians hadn’t given me this stupid creature.

Entry: If Cari is on my island, does it mean that she is a hero? She should be, for that is Zeus’ curse for me. Does that mean my magical raft would come for her as well?  I don’t know what is going on. Athena said that she figured out the “semantics” of the situation, whatever the Underworld that means. I have a strong feeling she just doesn’t know what she’s doing – just like she didn’t know the power of the nymph she angered when she took Odysseus away from me.

Entry: Today was a particularly horrible day – both for me and Cari. Cari has a cold, and she refuses to have a bath. She stays dry whenever I try to bathe her, as if she’s been dipped in wax – it must be some power of hers. I had enough with her tantrums and dropped her into the ocean surrounding my island. For some reason, she came out dry (yet again) and looked healthier than she was previously. Her cold is completely gone now. Of course, I should have guessed – being a child of Poseidon, she surely must have some water-bending abilities. When she is older, I shall test it out.

Entry: Cari, the little monster, has somehow subdued a lot. I get a little time to work in my garden (only with her strapped to my back or with my wind spirits in the ocean) and now that I have some time to myself, I think that having Cari here isn’t that bad, mainly because she’s an extremely disruptive child, and she keeps knocking over all that I keep on the ground within her reach. She crawls everywhere so fast on those little pudgy demon legs of hers.

Okay, I spoke too soon. I swear, that girl loves to vomit or excrete on me. My chitons are ruined and sometimes I must walk around naked because there’s nothing to wear. I haven’t had a bath in seven cycles of my sky. I really hope no one comes to my island to see me in this state. Not that I doubt that fact. Sometimes I just like to hope.

Entry: I must admit something. Cari’s eyes are certainly the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. They’re greener than the most luscious fields I’ve known.

I’ve gotten back into harvesting the produce in my forest this year. I’m thrown a little off plan because of Cari’s arrival, but I’m pretty sure I can manage like how I did with my other children. Now I roam around with Cari on my back in a swaddle, blabbering gibberish while I look for any fruits worth eating or those which have not fallen to the ground, rotted beyond growing. The other ones, with only slight mould or fuzz on them, I can grow back.

Entry: Cari finally spoke her first word! At least, I think so. I really hope it wasn’t some unfathomable blabber of hers that she loves to talk to me with, and I am merely imagining things. I truly hope that when she starts speaking now, it would be slightly less annoying than when she used to babble meaninglessly. She said ‘neró’ which I should have guessed – I mean, obviously water had to be her first word.

Entry: Today, I decided it’s high time I start with Cari’s lessons. I can’t have her illiterate when she reaches Camp Half-Blood, now can I? It’s not becoming of a demigod that powerful.

I’ve started teaching her some basic Greek but that girl is just not interested! She keeps crawling around everywhere and babbles “water” at me when I try to make her sit. She just wants to swim in the water and play with the wind spirits. Sometimes I force her to sit by tying her down, sometimes I let her do what she wants. I have too much to do, like caring for my forests and starting a new cropping cycle. At least I must be grateful that not everything is destroyed like what happened with my other children. It was too difficult to not only fix the rotten produce and eroded soil but to also plant new ones. Sadly, I cannot create new plants if there are no seeds sowed – which I had to wait an entire cropping cycle for to grow properly.

When Odysseus comes, will he remember what I taught him about my garden? I hope that wretched wife of his does not follow him to my home and separate us… And Athena too. At least my daughter took care of Telemachus, his child.

Entry: Cari finally took her first steps! It was extremely sweet, if I do say so myself. She ran right in my arms – and then she bit me. Which I somewhat understand, it must be quite horrible for her to get her teeth. I’m not sure if a mortal child is even supposed to get their teeth so late and in stages like that. I hope I am doing something correctly – I don’t want to kill the poor child before her tenth birthday.

Entry: That child. Now that she’s learned to walk on those two tiny death machines, she keeps wanting to climb everywhere in my house and knock everything down. I’d just finished cleaning my floors and she knocked over a bowl of fertilizer! She just can’t sit still. I’ll have to devise a way to keep her constantly entertained. Maybe weaving can keep her hands busy, if that little imp does not manage to completely break my loom. I’ll just need to add a few strengthening potions to it.

…

Entry: ΑβΓδΕζΗθΙκΛμΝξΟπΡσΤυΦχΨω It seems I’d forgotten my only solace in times of despair till that little imp got her hands on it. I’ve started teaching her Greek letters, hence the randomized alphabets – Cari just can’t wait to get her hands on some chalk before she dirties the whole house. She keeps writing water everywhere. At this point, I’m not even going to clean the walls. Let Cari do what she wants.

Entry: That girl is finally growing up a little. She can speak in full sentences now and I’ve started to teach her weaving. I needed to dust off the loom a little bit myself, but I’m pretty sure the girl will stay busy for a long time and allow me to do my activities in peace. Maybe I can teach her enough about gardening and soon, weaving spells on the loom. But would she even be able to cast it? She’s the daughter of Poseidon, not mine. Is it genetic? I don’t think so – Nausinous and Nausithous never had any inclination towards it, but my daughter did. I assume it’s only a matter of time until I figure out what Cari’s powers are.

…

…

ENtEE: Todee Moder put me in water. I like very much. I not undertandink what Moder has write in thee booke.

Entry: It’s been a long time since I last wrote in this. Oh, what coincidence– even the last time I forgot about the book, it was Cari who reminded me. We’ve started sword-fighting now. She’s getting better at it and she’s somehow able to focus and do well, contrary to my predictions. Her jittery nature, I think, makes it easier to concentrate on battles than learning. Typical of her nature as a hero. Tomorrow I shall start teaching her spell-weaving.

…

Entry: I feel as if I am merely using this book to chart down Cari’s major milestones at this point. Today, as we celebrated Cari’s birthday, I made her make a tapestry of her own. She has no spell-weaving powers yet, and I do hope she gets them soon. It would be a good survival skill to learn, especially for a demigod of that prowess – and in general for a lady for protection.

…

Entry: I’ve devised a new technique to punish Cari when she does something naughty. My other techniques of exile which I used for my other children didn’t exactly work on her because she always ended up having a good time in the forest, so now I’m going to force her to sit still for hours and tie her up. She’s always hated that. Hopefully that girl can learn to stop jittering.

…

Entry: I received a package from Hermes Express today. It was just sitting menacingly on the dresser when we awoke. Cari and I opened it together and there was a lot of packing and ‘plastique’ as they call it in the modern world (I’m pretty sure). Cari’s still playing with the stuff. I was of the opinion that all that packing was too much for a pen but it turned out to be a sword – Anaklusmos, it was called. I suspect it is Poseidon’s gift to Cari. I made her practice with it today and she’s certainly much better with it than she was with my wooden swords. She keeps complaining that the name is too long for her, though.

…

Entry: Today, Cari weaved another tapestry – the story, she claims, is one she dreamt of, but I do not recognize it. Childly whims, I must presume. We haven’t had time yet to test out her prowess with water, but I doubt she can do much with the enchanted ocean around Ogygia. I do not want her to be severely underprepared for life outside my bubble, though, and I must teach her what I can. We have barely four years to go till Cari is gone.

Entry: Today, I came to a startling realization. I think I am fond of her. I’m pretty sure that I like the little imp. Oh, no. This should not have happened. What now? Will the raft come for her, too? No, I’m sure Athena and Hermes have put some spells on her. Though not strong, I can feel that little Cari has the quiet, subtle aura of a minor god – far more than what is normal for a demigod.

Entry: The raft did not come, thank Nereus. We started with Cari’s lessons today, and she needs a lot of practice with the sword. She’s able to do basic water magic, as is expected of her, but the poor girl gets so exhausted after all of it that we ended up needing a nap between each session. More practice, I expect. Hopefully I have not started too late in her training.

…

…

…

Entry: Something is wrong with my island. There’s thunder surrounding Ogygia. All my crops are going to be ruined! I suspect it is Zeus. I am extremely scared of whatever is going on that I can’t even breathe properly. Will Zeus kill me? No, I’m sure he won’t, I’m immortal. I still can’t breathe under the weight of my worries. Athena and Hermes promised me that he would not come here but I am still making Cari pack a bag in case of difficulty. She makes too many faces at me, I swear – children these days are so simple yet so… difficult. In any case, I’m helping Cari make a water-proof bag with all my spells – of whose powers she still has no inkling of – and simultaneously trying to make sense of all this change.

Entry: The weather is growing darker, and a slight drizzle has entered my barriers. Just this morning, when I ventured out to care for my garden (which Cari insists I shouldn’t because that is time spent away from her), I felt the barriers… decay somehow. I still think it’s Zeus, but I don’t think he would come here. He’s never really cared for me – and I hope he doesn’t care for Cari as well. There’s still a year left for Cari’s departure, and I want to make the best of it till she is gone. Besides, Athena and Hermes would have my head if I managed to kill the poor demigod now. I need to do something.

If the barriers around Ogygia are decaying, does that mean I can get out? Is Ogygia charted on maps? I’d rather not try now in such tumultuous times, but I shall surely keep this in mind till Cari’s departure.

Entry: Zeus is here. I have failed. Athena and Hermes and Poseidon have failed.

Chapter Text

Calypso was standing at the edge of the world.

No, not really. She was in bed, trying to put Cari to sleep by petting her hair as she lay in the crook of her elbow, singing her a soft lullaby – one that she could remember from her childhood. Her voice came out strained as if the night and all the feelings it brought on were so scary that even her voice wanted to hide in her throat, not push through her vocal cords, not come out at all, and be safe. It was dark and it was late into the night yet neither of them was able to sleep.

Next to Calypso’s side of the scratchy straw bed, the incense smoke sputtered faintly in the strong wind that seemed to embrace the island – albeit in a dangerous hug. The air smelled like citrus and forests on a warm day. Calypso took a deep breath, stopping the singing for a bit. Next to her, Cari shifted her head almost imperceptibly.

The white curtains on the perpetually open windows were blowing into the house, looking like fallen angels or perhaps graceful dancers stuck eternally in their poses, or maybe even clothed ghosts running away from the fury of Hades. They blew on Cari’s cheeks, softly caressing her on the side Calypso could not reach, as if blessing her. However Cari did not care for it; she merely quietened more, her breathing slowing down, and stared out the window to something far away.

Calypso resumed her strained melody, haunting and chilling in the atmosphere set by the gracefully dancing curtains, the howling wind, and the faint incense smoke. Like the lament of a melancholy ghost, a forgotten shadow.

But looking out the window, to the clear, deep navy-blue sky, Calypso thought she was standing at the edge of the world.

In front of her was darkness so black it made all tangibility seem nihilistic. The loneliness that seemed to settle into your very soul, in the various nooks and crannies of it – to grip like a leech and never let go. A sense of chaos settled around it all, masked fragilely behind a front of peace. Like a warm blanket that hugged you and never let go, but one that took all your heat to warm itself.

Behind her was a luxurious garden, filled to the brim with every material luxury anyone could ever think of – bright, vibrant trees, opulent palaces detailed with gold filigree so shiny it glittered in the pale sunlight. Juicy berries to pick from the bushes. Exotic birds with varying shades and hues – half of which even Calypso had never seen in her life. Beautiful mortals roamed the garden, flitting around like lost souls in Asphodel. But the closer you got to their position, the farther they went – like a mirage.

But if you stared at the sight too long, the colors would get duller. The humans looked sadder. The flowers would wilt every time you turn your head, and the beaks of the birds seemed a little sharper, glinting mischievously in the sunlight. An acute sense of pain and longing, smelling like rotten fruits engulfed the luxurious garden. Calypso’s eyes watered at the horrible smell clogging up her nostrils. She shut her eyes.

Calypso was right there, at the edge of the world, precariously holding onto a cliff, throwing herself into the capricious hands of the Fates. A wind from the void in front blew too fast and she stumbled, arms flailing, almost falling into the garden behind her.

Calypso was pulled back into the world of the living, startled and gasping as a sudden bout of thunder seemed to break Ogygia’s sky in half. Cari beside her yelped as well – but out of fear of something Calypso wasn’t privy to, not out of shock.

She’d been like that for a while now. Jittery, jumping at the smallest noises, like a twitching bunny. She was scared and for good reason too. There was an air of impending doom that settled around the two of them, like a suffocating weight on their chest, pushing into their lives so hard that there was no space left for the previous joy they felt spending time with each other.

Cari crawled from her position on the bed and into Calypso’s lap, not hesitatingly, and almost started crying as she gripped Calypso’s nightly chiton, breathing heavily and pushing her warm body into Calypso’s as if trying to fuse their bodies.

There were no stars in the sky that night, but the lightning more than made up for it – sizzling, dazzling bright like a supernova. Glinting mischievously like a poltergeist. The thunder was quick to follow in the scintillating footsteps of its portended brother, shredding the tapestry of the night sky into pieces.

Cari whimpered at the sound, pushing her head into Calypso’s neck even more, gripping her chiton tighter. Calypso immediately worked her hands into Cari’s messy mane, smoothening her hair, and patting her back, and she seemed to relax a bit.

“What’s wrong, my little papaya?”

She shuddered, forcing the words the words out of her mouth. “Mother, there’s a creepy man outside. He just appeared out of nowhere! I’m scared, I – “

Something caught in her throat and Cari snuggled deeper into Calypso’s arms, and she pulled her tightly against her. A man appeared on her island - a creepy man, in Cari’s words. Calypso’s stomach churned with possibilities of danger that she ignored. Of course, it couldn’t be that bad.

“Mother, do I have to go now? With my bag? Do I have to leave the island?” she muttered into Calypso’s shoulder.

The poor child.

Gently extricating her arms from her shoulders, Calypso assured Cari that it couldn’t be that bad and to prove it, she would go and check. As another bolt of lightning cracked the now-cloudy sky into millions of pieces, Cari hugged her tighter and tighter and finally let go, limply sitting straight to face her.

“Promise me you’ll be back, mother?” Her voice cracked but her teal-green eyes stared into her own with a resolve that felt like knives stabbing her.

Calypso smiled, trying to diffuse the tension – it did not work. She instead favored to gently wipe the sheen of tears coating Cari’s pale cheeks.

“My darling, I promise you as the sun promises the earth that it will shine its light. Nothing will harm you, not when I am here. Do you trust me?”

Cari nodded, her resolve breaking a little, her emotions bubbling like a pot of over-boiled soup.

“I will be back before you know it. Be brave for me, my little papaya.”

Calypso did not bother waiting for an answer as she walked over to the door. She stood there for some time, steeling her resolve. She might have acted brave for Cari – as is a mother’s duty – but shielded from Cari’s sight, Calypso felt terrified, like she was standing on the edge of a cliff with her heart in her brain and the wind blowing her off the wrong side, like the cold hand of fear clamping her body.

She was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to do anything except stare. Her eyes were widened, chilling cold because of the excess air entering. She couldn’t blink. She cracked open the door, just a tiny bit to let in the wind, and slammed it shut immediately, turning her back to it and pushing, panting with the effort – or the shock of what she saw. Fear’s cold hand gripped her throat, like a puppet with marionette strings too close for comfort and she was choking, choking, choking , and –

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no.

It was Zeus.

Zeus was there . On her island.

Calypso scuttled forward towards the desk where her leather-bound notebook sat, and ripped it open, tearing the pages to an empty one, uncaring of the pages she presumably tore apart before shakily grabbing the chalk. She sketched out a shaky entry documenting Zeus’ arrival when suddenly a flash of lightning and thunder made her jump out of her skin and crush the chalk, smudging the brown powder all over her hand and the book.

A sudden bout of energy overtook her senses. Enraged, she threw the book in the general direction of the inner house and started scratching her hand again. What had she done? What had she done? Why was she being burdened with this horrible fate? Why couldn’t Athena or Hermes or even Poseidon take responsibility for that demon creature? She yelled - growled, more like – a gravelly sound escaping her vocal cords. She pulled at her hair, feeling the pain, ripping out tufts of her damaged hair, tearing them apart in her hands. She yelled and yelled till her voice was hoarse. What was happening to her?

Somewhere along the way, the yells had turned into tears – uncomfortable, fat tears accompanied by loud, throat-shredding sobs. She could feel the ichor from her assault on her head dripping down on her forehead, down her nose and cheeks, cold, cold mixing with the atmosphere, reducing her to the dust that she was.

She wanted to run away. She wanted to run into the void in front of her, no matter how chilling or how cold or how traumatic it would be, all she wanted to do was tip forward, just a little step, just a little step and she would be free . From the madness. From the luxury. From the price she paid for something she didn’t even want.

Calypso was shaking more violently now, hyper-aware of the macabre golden crown matting her hair. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

Why was she doing this? Why, indeed?

She swayed on the spot, unable to answer her question when another, slightly louder thunder seemed to deafen her.

She opened her eyes and realized the thunder wasn’t thunder – it was Zeus. Who had torn the bulging door off its hinges and broken it into various splintering components.

Oh, no.

Calypso hadn’t seen Zeus in millennia upon millennia – but you don’t exactly forget the face of your torturer that easily. Although his outer attire had changed in favor of something more modern – possibly something to do with the contemporary world, and his facial complexion had changed from the youthful, beautiful man to a wizened face with a straggly beard, his eyes remained the same – red, crimson red like a bloody rose, his wrathful expression the thorns. Like a hunter, a bloodhound that had found its prey. Calypso shuddered. A rumbling feeling was arising in her abdomen.

A slow smile cut across Zeus’ face, curling his lips inward to allow his gums to peek through, giving a menacing look. The weird expression of joy in his eyes looked misplaced considering his demeanour.

“Calypso. Love, won’t you give me Cari Sally Jackson?”

His voice rolled off his tongue like honey off a beehive, dew off a leaf – a stark contrast to the scene around them, the raging and thundering storms. It reminded Calypso of warm winds on a summer day. She closed her eyes, swaying on her heels, reminiscing the days when she was still free, still alive, the taste of mangoes –

What was she doing? He was a God, an infamous Olympian known for his anger, his requests, and the things he could do if you didn’t kneel at his feet.

“Love, it’s really important for me. Don’t you want to help me?” Zeus crooned, walking closer to her, the maniacal expression still gracing his features. In the short period she had reminisced, his facial features seemed softer on the eyes – more like how she remembered him. Beautiful and youthful. Like Odysseus. Odysseus, Odysseus…

Snap out of it! She chided herself. He was trying to seduce her. Or – did he care this time around?

“Love, I mean no harm to Cari. If you just give her to me, I can set you free. I can bring you Odysseus, my love. Is that not what you want?”

Odysseus, Odysseus… And maybe he was right. He wanted no harm to come to Cari.

“Come now, Calypso,” and, oh , he said her name so sweetly, like it was a divine prayer, and he was a mere mortal. Not even Odysseus had been capable of that kind of love and respect.

“Cari Sally Jackson will be fine with me, Calypso.”

Calypso was about to all but package Cari up into a beautiful little present and a bow on top for good measure when a mental image of Cari flashed through her mind, reminding her of how… broken, and scared she’d been.

Calypso shook her head, trying vehemently to rid herself of the fog that had engulfed her senses, to clear the clouds in her eyes that mirrored the clouds in the sky. She had to do this. For her, for Cari so that she wouldn’t be a pawn in these deadly games of the gods.

Calypso searched for the dregs of her courage. The Olympians had taken all of it when they punished her, not once but time and time again, broke her and reduced her to a shell of what she could be if she just dared to mark her place in the world and remake it to her likings, but it was still there. It was still there, buried under the layers of hurt and pain but it was still there.

She took a deep breath. There was a sense of dread looming over her as if she had already tipped and fallen into the void. She opened her mouth to talk, to say something, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t look at that face, that menacing, crazy face, and just say something to save herself. Calypso had never been a talker.

She’d been a runner. A nymph. Concealer of information. She smiled secretively.

And more than that, she was a sorceress, the Queen of Ogygia.

She raised her eyes to look at Zeus, his weapon of choice now in his hands and lightning engulfing him, his dramatic flairs now making him look like a madman. Zeus wanted an answer.

And she would give him one.

Calypso glared at Zeus’ crimson eyes as she focused on the imaginary taut rope in her stomach, pulling and pulling till it finally gave way. She raised a wall of vines, the greens writhing and strengthening on the dirt-packed floor before shooting up like beanstalks, twirling within itself before it plunged through Calypso’s thatched roof.

And then she ran.

She didn’t know how far the wall would hold up – and she was already exhausted with raising the wall of vines. She didn’t even know if she could perform the feat again if it came to it. At least it would give her some time.

She skidded to a halt as she found Cari still sitting on the bed. She looked at the commotion, scared out of her wits.

“Pack the bag! Fast! Before he comes!”

Thankfully Cari understood what she meant. While Cari rushed behind her, grabbing everything she thought necessary, Calypso focused on her power, feeling the tugging in her stomach – stronger this time. She pulled and pulled and pulled but it would not give way – and Zeus seemed to have already blasted through her previous wall of vines. She had no time. Frustrated, she yelled, yanking a wailing Cari through the backdoor, barely checking to see if she was okay.

Thunder graced the sky, louder this time.

Calypso pulled Cari onto the beach near the sea as she could hear Zeus lumbering behind her. She focused on her stomach, and she emptied all her reserves of energy as she willed a thin wall of trees. It sprouted from the ground like something sentient, writhing up quickly and thickening before Calypso couldn’t handle the pain.

She doubled over on the sand, vomiting, feeling the wetness of it mix with the sand and reach her toes. Beside her, Cari was wailing, her hair matted and stuck to her forehead. She was squalling, confused and half the things in her bag were falling out. She looked utterly terrified and deranged.

Calypso had to get her out of there. But her energy was so low, that she wasn’t sure she could run now.

“Cari, he wants you. To kill you. Promise me you’ll – “ she coughed, cupping her hands around her mouth to pull away and find it glittering with her ichor.

“Promise me you’ll run away. There’s a – a boat here, around the cave. It’s Zeus. I’ll try to hold him off as much as possible but once you’re in the ocean, he won’t be able to catch you. Go, now. Go! Go!”

Calypso managed to shakily yell at her before a raging and yelling Zeus who had found their hiding spot took her attention away.

Cari did not run. Instead, she walked closer to Calypso, yelling in her ears “No! I will not go! I will not leave you, Mama! I WILL NOT!”

Calypso turned around, having no patience for the child’s heroics. She slapped Cari hard enough to leave an angry red mark, and yelled at her, “Run, you idiot child! RUN AWAY!” before she grabbed her by her tiny waist and pushed her to the side.

Cari yelped out of pain, and Calypso didn’t have any time to feel remorse because Zeus was right there, in front of her, having broken through her makeshift forest.

He lunged for Cari like a cat pouncing for its prey but before he could reach her, Calypso had thrown herself in front of her and Zeus landed painfully on her instead.

He growled, frustrated before sending down a bolt of lightning close enough to Cari that according to the scent, she was pretty sure she had gotten singed.

Under Zeus’ weight, she yelled at Cari, “GO! RUN! RUN AWAY!”

And Cari finally did. She ran and Zeus yelled, getting up, throwing the sand behind him and into her toes before Calypso once again threw herself in his way – and this time, he stayed, looking at her amusedly.

She was barely aware of the pain that engulfed her abdomen, her head was throbbing and pulsating, and she could feel more golden ichor drip down her cheeks. Her chest hurt so much she couldn’t even stand up but from her position on the ground, she stared up at him.

“If you want my Cari, you’ll have to go through me first,” she found enough energy to glare at him.

Zeus smiled at her, contemplative and Calypso thought he would accept her as his opponent and fight her. But she was caught completely off-guard by the lightning bolt that struck her through her chest.

At first, it didn’t hurt. She was shocked at the light pouring through her chest, unable to look away from the dazzling show. But when thunder crackled in the sky above, the pain started settling in.

Calypso screamed in pure agony. She felt like every single cell of her body was being ripped apart and set to fire individually. Each of her organs felt full of acid and other foul substances, and it hurt . It was like all the pain in the world had accumulated and had been put upon her.

And it hurt, it hurt, it hurt so bad why couldn’t all this end?

The pain finally subsided a little, her vision blurred, her hearing swam in and out like she was being drowned, and the water was bloating her body with waves of pure torture.

When she finally had enough control over her pain, she managed to crack open an eye. She saw Cari shaking her shoulders; the little jerking of her body caused more rolls of pain to drip down her hands – or, that might have been her head, still dripping her ichor. She saw Zeus finally getting a hold of her, burning her once again with his lightning – and why wasn’t running away yet? What was that little imp trying to do? Save her?

The thought seemed so absurd that she almost chuckled, but the pain hit her again, coming in full force, like a wave on a full moon night, a high tide, a cyclone. The pain was like a second-degree burn – too painful to handle, but not so much as to numb it out and burn her nerves. She’d never felt this kind of pain before. She kept screaming until her voice turned hoarse, her face full of sand due to her compromisingly fetal position on the beach.

When the pain finally subsided for the last time, heavily panting, she got up, her hair sticking to her face. She staggered to stand on her limp and unfeeling legs, but she couldn’t. She fell back onto the ground, hugging her knees tight against her. A dull ache had spread through her body, as if the tentacles of an octopus had settled on her, capturing every part of her body in an ever-tightening embrace and crashing her, starting from the core – her heart, which seemed to flutter its way up her throat, threatening to come out in bile. She could feel it thudding hard against her chest, working overtime to provide her with ichor.

“Run away, Cari. Please. There’s no saving me. Run away from the monster,” she whispered, using up the last of her energy and forcing the sound out from her damaged vocal cords.

Even in the violent sounds of the thunderstorm, that got Zeus’ attention. He slowly released his grip on Cari and she finally, finally ran away – and finally, Calypso felt like she could breathe properly again.

Zeus turned to face her; his expression incredulous, maniacal.

“Have you still not learned your lesson, Calypso? I have destroyed you. I have turned you mortal. I have complete power over you and I have been so merciful – “ he walked closer to Calypso but she couldn’t bear to look up at him. She whimpered and ducked her head into her knees.

He came closer to her. “ So merciful, my dear Calypso, and you have only tested my patience. You will suffer my wrath, Calypso. I will destroy you.”

What? Calypso couldn’t wrap her mind around the entire situation. He had turned her mortal . He had turned her mortal and was going to kill her.

Sure enough, she felt the grainy sand poking into her bare feet, the now-static, oppressive weather beating down upon her, and making her sweaty. The crab holes poked and pinched into her toes, which were as weak as wet paper. Stabbing pains passed through her head as she tried to make sense of this new revelation, while Zeus stood uncomfortably close to her, smirking and grinning like the cat that got its cream.

She never sweated. Nor was she that sensitive to pain.

She barely had time to breathe one last time before the bitter smell of ozone hit her lungs, and the same agonizing pain was forced upon her, splitting her head apart. It was as if she was being burned alive. In the end, she couldn’t even feel anything except the numbing pain that seemed to set every cell of hers on fire.

The last coherent thing Calypso could think of was if Cari had escaped this madman and his insanity. Finally, she realized that she couldn’t hold on any longer and let herself slip onto the opposite side of the cliff she was standing on, finally letting go of the cliff and allowing herself to be engulfed by the void.

And so came the end of Calypso. Daughter of Nereus and Doris. Lover of Odysseus. Revered nymph, concealer of knowledge, queen of Ogygia.

And she knew no one would sing her epic.

Calypso realized with a dying thought that for the world, she had never existed. She’d been dead - or as good as - before she came into this cruel, cruel life.

And why she had held on for so long - no one might ever know the answer to that question. Not even Calypso.

Chapter Text

Everything was quiet on the island of Ogygia. 

Not an animal made a sound. The tiny black birds on the branches of the black-wooded yew fluttered quietly, gathering in throngs on the divaricates with open beaks. Despite the windy weather, no blade of grass in the clearings beyond the beach bent their head to the unrelenting assault of the clouds, waiting with bated breath for impending doom. Although it was meant to be a perpetual springtime in Ogygia, no cicadas chirped, and nor did any mosquitoes buzz, searching for blood.

No, Cari thought. No one, nothing made a sound on the quiet island of Ogygia, where silence stretched like a blanket, a barricade on the treetops.

Except for her mother.

Whose screams tore through this blanket of peace that Cari associated with the island, the horrible, horrible, harsh screams that tore your eardrums and made you want to scream too. The thunder joined in and increased the volume. Tears sprang to Cari’s eyes, not only because of the intensity and the grating, jarring, raspy screams but also where they emanated from.

In front of Cari, her mother lay writing on the sand, spasming as if shocks were going through her body. Her whole body shook and shivered as if she felt cold but sweating like a pig. The few times her eyelids managed to crack open, Cari saw that her eyes had rolled back into her head, leaving only a horrible whiteness that she couldn’t bear to see. Her fingers were opening and closing involuntarily, her toes following suit. Her shaking body made a pothole in the sand.

Cari was frozen in place. The screams were scaring her and her heart was beating so loud in her chest that she thought the whole island and whatever lay beyond it could hear the thud-thud-thud, the blood rushing through her ears like waves – or the actual waves next to her.

A loud sound boomed in her ears and a few tears escaped her eyes. What was happening? What was going on?

“Ma! Mama! Mother, wake up, mother, please wake up!” she yelled, but she doubted anyone could hear her over the roaring wind and the awful, ear-splitting shrieks. She wanted to move from her position. To hug her mother and stop her from shaking so much. But she was frozen as if lead was moving through her limbs; she could only look and not move to help her mother and she felt a horrible sensation in her chest at the thought, like the “thunder” was booming in her lungs.

“Ma!”

Around her, sand was swirling in a little typhoon. When she felt slightly chilly, she managed to concentrate and realized that she was covered in her own little hurricane of mist and wind.

Oh, she realized belatedly, the thought lost in the heat of the moment.

Cari looked at the horrible man who’d done this to her mother, his figure blurry through the screen of Cari’s tears and the tiny hurricane at her feet. Despite the visibility problems, she could make out the glaring red color of his eyes, unlike any other natural red she’d seen before. His stupid crooked weapon made bright light leap around his head like a dazzling crown coupled with the horrifying backgrounds of her mother’s screams that he’d caused. An awful grin was plastered across his face as if he was reveling in her mother’s pain. It made her see red so sharp and bright that if it existed anywhere except for her own eyes, it would rival the horrible crimson of his eye sockets.

Cari’s chest tightened, a painful, debilitating sensation traversing through it that made her fall on her knees, pawing at the approximate of her heart which had suddenly flared up in bouts of stabbing pain. She felt angry, angry like she’d never been before, like an omnipresent cloud of emotion had engulfed her and she wanted to destroy, to kill this horrible man who’d made her mother feel pain. Like a fire had started in her water-tight heart.

Cari felt an imaginary rope give a slight twang in her abdomen and finally give way. She was fully ready to drench him in the water right then and there to make him stop hurting her mother, but before she could unleash her wrath on the monster, he’d started moving his lips. So shocked was Cari that she let go of everything; even the screen of sand and mist fell apart.

She turned to the object of his disgusting, sadistic gaze and saw her mother – who’d long since stopped seizing up on the ground – whose face was now coated in blood. Red blood. Where had that come from? But she didn’t care because she was elated, euphoric even that her mother had come back to her, but why wasn’t she running from that horrible man why didn’t she let her murder the man – 
Cari ran towards her mother, trying to hug her, suddenly feeling vulnerable and in need of her mother’s safe embrace. But something was happening – she was conversing with the man, looking very scared, indeed, her white chiton stained with ichor and vomit flying up in her face, scrambling back on the sand. Why wasn’t she moving? Why wasn’t she moving?

Why couldn’t Cari hear anything over the sounds of her heart?

Then she was looking at her. There was a scab on her cheek and it was coated in blood, shining bright and glistening in the moonlight. She couldn’t concentrate. 

“Move, mama! Move, we need to run, the man will kill us! Mama!” 

Then she was saying something but her ears were blocked. Her brown eyes were dull and she was yelling, putting her hands out, and she shoved her.

Cari was so shocked that she didn’t even try to stop the fall, being brought back to the present with the dull thud of her bottom on the sand. Her mother was shoving her into the line of fire, right into the jaws of that horrible man as if she wanted her to die. She yelled, the sounds unsatisfying as they fell to deaf ears, finally pushing water at the man, drenching him in waves; the rope in her abdomen that was knitting itself back had been broken beyond repair.

As the horrible man turned himself to Cari, looking her dead in the eyes with his bloody crimson ones, Cari felt like she was living in a dream. Her surroundings were hazy and she couldn’t hear anything except the ringing of her mother’s shrieks.

Suddenly, a blinding white light engulfed the area Cari realized what her mother in all her wide-eyed fear was trying to say to her.

“RUN AWAY FROM THE MONSTER!”

But Cari was engulfed in the horrible light, and she couldn’t even see any monster to run away from.

***

There was a slight musky, smoky smell in her nostrils. Cari recognized it as the incense they had lit just that previous evening. No matter how much she blinked, all she could see was the milky white light.

Cari was panicking, the tell-tale sound of her heart beating louder than she could scream, the rope in her abdomen pulled taut as if it would break at any moment – 

Suddenly, a face came into view. Well, not as suddenly as snow melts off mountains in springtime. The lines of the person’s face which were blurry got sharper and sharper till Cari could recognize her as the woman that infected her recent dreams, with dark, wild hair like hers and a slight sense of familiarity and the smell of baked goods clinging to her, as if she’d just finished making bread or cookies.

She opened her piercing eyes, blue in one and green in the other, with a gaze that could burn through your soul.

“I told you to run, Cari,” she whispered but it seemed so loud in the silence now engulfing her.

This did nothing to absolve the panic in Cari’s chest. The rope in her abdomen pulled and tore and she pushed outward involuntarily as she did with the man, trying to remove the whispers from her mind.

I told you to run, Cari. The woman’s aristocratically beautiful face now drenched with water morphed into Calypso’s, who spoke the same thing.

I told you to run, Cari. Their voices overlapped to create a haunting harmony. I told you to run, Cari.

She whimpered, unable to hear herself over these… horrible things. She slouched, putting her hands on her ears, trying to stop the sounds from reaching her.

I told you to run, Cari.

You’ve killed me now.

I told you to run, Cari.

RUN AWAY FROM THE MONSTER!

Cari’s eyes flew open. She realized that she couldn’t see and a blurry screen dotted with spots was covering her eyes. She screamed, closing her eyes tightly before opening them again. She realized that they were just tears. She looked around the beach, unable to concentrate, only seeing hazy lines and cracked shapes.

A loud, booming sound filled the atmosphere as if giving an almighty crack and Cari could suddenly see what was in front of her.

A black, charred mass vaguely in the shape of her mother that was dripping blood and viscera.

Cari yelled again, struggling to understand what was going on. She staggered towards the mass, unable to balance herself.

“Mama? Mama, where are you?”

It was only when she’d reached the bloody mass that she realized that the thing in front of her could be her mother. Dead.

“MAMA!” she yelled louder as if she could wake her up. As if mere yelling to turn her back to the beautiful, and most importantly unburnt, and whole woman that she was. Tears were flowing freely down her face, each drop that fell on her exposed arms making her flinch due to the coolness. She fell, her knees buckling and unable to hold her weight anymore.

“MAMA! COME BACK TO ME, MAMA!” She yelled so loud that her throat seized up in the last syllable, making her choke.

Waves crashed against the beach. And Cari was screaming. A horrible, harsh, grating scream that was much too quiet, much too soft to break through her mother’s barrier of screams on the island.

“Mother? Mother? MAMA? MAMA? WHERE ARE YOU, MAMA?” Cari yelled, crawling forward to touch the mess. A little flesh fell away, staining her fingers deep red. It was too hot and she felt the searing heat only a moment later when it began eating into her finger. She immediately pulled her hand back to herself. She spotted something white underneath the mass she touched. Realizing that it could be a piece of bone, Cari felt the bitter taste of bile fill her mouth before she puked, spraying the vomit all over the mass. It sizzled, burning into the air, adding its scent to the smoke and the other horrid smells.

What was this? What was this? What was going on? Where’s her mother?

WHERE’S HER MOTHER?

WHERE’S CALYPSO?

A small river of deep-red blood flowed through the sand, reaching Cari’s hand. She coughed, trying to shake the body and more flesh fell away, staining the sand and her chiton. She was shaking it as if it was just a nasty dream and she would wake up any instant with her mother hugging her.

WHERE’S CALYPSO?

Cari felt it then. The pain in her chest. The stickiness of the blood. She stood up, unable to tear her eyes off the black, burnt mass and river of blood and the pink flesh coating it. She felt the rage engulf her again. Her legs were shaky on the sand, slipping on the slick of her mother’s blood. It took over her senses as quickly as the waves lapped at her head, and she felt power coursing through her veins as if the barricade, the rope in her stomach was never there.

She looked up and the monster and his bright, crimson-red eyes were dripping too. They were too wide, too happy, too red. Cari’s eyes refused to close. He grinned. Golden blood dripped from his mouth. Pink flesh fell from the mass on the ground. The monster kept grinning. Cari’s eyes were bleeding. Calypso’s eyes were bleeding. Her heart was running faster, faster, faster.

The monster raised his weapon at Cari.

Then Cari pushed backward, yelling loudly, and found herself suddenly able to hear again. Her wails sounding like a dying animal engulfed the island now, taking over the legacy of her mother.

This man had killed her mother.

And now she would kill him.

Before she knew it, a humongous wave rose from the ocean behind her and drenched the man, steaming up upon reaction with the sizzling, dazzling lightning bolt. He seemed dazed, confused – or was that just Cari? It was not enough. This had not hurt him. It had merely deterred him slightly. She needed more.

She growled, shrieking, before she heeded her mother’s last advice (not last. She would come back. She had to), and ran.

The sand dug into her bare feet, creating indents. The wind whistled against her, but now she could finally hear the sounds of the animals on the island. They were yelling too, shrieking and squeaking and roaring. Cari joined in the overwhelming din, forcing out a full-throated yell and pushing the air behind her.

She wanted to kill the man.

The air was still pregnant with the suffocating smell of smoke and metallic rust. Something cloyingly sweet with a scent of burn, abrasive to her nostrils. The wind was biting at her arms, the chilly weather drawing goosebumps. Something like liquid fire felt as if it was dripping down her spine. Her breath grated against her chest and she forced out a cough. It pained and her thoracic region felt like it was on fire, but she kept running.

Cari turned around.

And there he was.

The monster.

Cari’s heart beat faster in her chest and all she could hear was her footsteps that were getting slower, slower, slower on the sand why couldn’t she move faster and – 

Lightning cut through her bleary vision so bright that it left spots. She was forced to close her eyes.

She yelled, tripping over her own feet. Her breath caught in her throat and she was wading through liquid fire. Every movement made it worse. Her throat was full of smoke and chemicals. Turning around, she sent another wave of sand into the horrible man’s face, followed by the water. It didn’t help. She felt the anger increasing in her chest, like a bubble about to burst. At that moment, the ground she was sprinting on seemed to shake in phase with her footsteps.

Sweat dripped down her forehead, tickling her nose and mouth. She sneezed, her heart staggering slightly in its marathon and a horrible pounding filled her head. It was so terrible that she saw dark yellow spots in her eyes and she couldn’t focus; she merely swayed dizzily while she tried to keep running.

Scared by the lack of vision, her feet still running off the momentum caught on to a small crab-made divot in the sand and she tripped, arms flailing. Her knees suffered the impact, falling on a small clearing of stones. She felt a horrible light-headedness follow and knew she’d drawn blood. A sharp stinging in her palms alerted her that her hands hadn’t been spared of the attack of the rocks.

She tried to get up but she was so dizzy she swayed on the spot and fell on the rocks, this time hitting her head. She cut her hands on more sharp shells trying to gain footing. Somewhere in the mess, the bag that had been pounding at her back while she ran had managed to slip off roll away, and fall into the excited water with a splash.

Her vision was still blurry with tears and spots but she could see now. Her heart was racing in her chest, urging her to get up, but she just couldn’t move. Her throat was too dry. Water. She needed water.

Her eyes burned with the effort of keeping them open against the biting wind, watering up slightly. The anger under her skin ebbed and flowed, reaching a high, feeling that bubble in her chest burst when she heard the high-pitched yell of the vultures, coming to finish off her mother.

A loud thunderbolt cracked the sky like eggshells, ringing long after it had passed. Lightning cut through her bleary vision so bright that it left spots again. She needed to close her eyes but she didn’t care.

She would destroy the man and everything he loved - if he were even capable of loving.

She growled, exhaustion settling into her bones so deep that even the adrenaline provided by the anger could not take it away. During her little excursion, it seemed that the monster had caught up with her.

The monster entered her swimming vision, pushing his face to her eyes. The crooked weapon was in his hands, near her legs, so hot, so hot that she might just burn up into nothingness like her mother. She couldn’t feel the searing heat and she could feel everything all at once.

NO! NO! Let me go, let me go, let me go!

All Cari could do was yell incoherently, pushing her hands into his face, trying to protect her own. She tried to scramble back but fell and her stinging palms slipped on the sand. Then, white, pure white surrounded her senses – and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see. Her eyes were shut tight, straining, almost seeing red. She was shaking so much from the breakdown that she bit her tongue – hard enough to feel the shock and pain to the bone.

Horrible wails filled the air, like a heartbroken, dying animal before she belatedly realized that was her. The entire island had quietened once again and Cari was so angry she might have destroyed it, if only to hear anything except her wails. She flinched at the sensations of her blood dripping down her calves, too cold in contrast to the hot bubble she’d surrounded herself with.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was a bloody red figure raising his head. She was panting, her vision dizzy, and she couldn’t get up. The monster’s eyes flickered like bloody crimson fireflies. He raised his weapon at her the same time she raised her palms in front of her face. The ground was shaking under her feet then, shivering along with her. The water surrounding the island grew into one large water-monster, rising like a snake poised for attack.

The monster shot the bolt at her, engulfing her in the bright light that killed her mother at the same time she let the water go, arms falling at her sides, letting the waves engulf the island.

Ogygia shook as if possessed, trees falling in the distance and animals flying away in terror as Cari slipped into oblivion, unable to hold on much longer.