Chapter Text
He stood at the edge of the world, broken and alone. His youthful face was sliced by a scar and his short blond hair was a mess. He was dirty, but he was healthy. He was dirty, and broken, but he was alive. Unlike so many others. Before him were fifty pyres, each covered with a shroud. They had been fifty people he had known, fifty people he had loved.
He was immortal now but even he had failed to save them from the Titans that now ruled the world. A part of him wondered if he should have accepted the demands of the Lord of Time- a war and forced betrayal couldn’t have been worse than this, worse than being forced to watch as the world came crashing down. In the distance, he could see the remains of Thalia’s pine tree, nothing more now than ashes and ruins.
His heart ached as he looked down at the closest shroud. It was gray and emblazoned with owls. It belonged to someone he had thought of as a sister, who had died at twelve years old. He was nineteen, only nineteen, forever nineteen as he watched this ruined world; and just like the dead, he would never age.
‘I’m sorry, Annabeth,’ whispered the broken man. ‘I failed you. I failed you all.’
He stood up straighter and lifted his torch. He had ensured that they all had a drachma under their tongue. He wasn’t sure if Charon was still around, after all most gods were dead and even the daimons were in hiding, but this was the least he could do for them all. The last thing he could do for his family. So he chanted near-silently in ancient Greek the funeral rites, tears on his face, and then he bent down and lit the first of the pyres: Annabeth’s.
Next was the newcomer, Percy Jackson, who had been unfairly blamed for the theft of Zeus’ lightning bolt. He was a son of Poseidon, and also now dead. His shroud was blue and covered in tridents- Luke hadn’t known what else to put on there, so he had improvised. The poor kid was also only twelve.
After Percy’s was Lee’s. Poor, poor Lee Fletcher. The son of Apollo had fought so hard to protect the others and yet in the end they had all fallen. His shroud, like his siblings’, was gold with arrows. Luke kissed the top of his forehead before he set the corpse ablaze.
‘Sleep well,’ the immortal said, and he moved on.
He was silently crying as he worked his way among the shrouds and set the corpses on fire. He had known all of them to varying degrees, and the guilt of being the last one standing was eating him alive. They were all dead because of him. The world was destroyed because of him. If only he had accepted Kronos’ offer…but it was too late now, and Luke was alone.
He stepped back and gazed at the fires. Oh, how could the Fates be so cruel? Nothing was left, no one was left, not even that secret Roman camp in San Francisco. Luke was the last demigod and he was forced to watch. He was the last of the living humans, and he was to watch this empty hell for eternity.
He turned and walked back to the ruins of Cabin One. He slept in there now because it had the pictures of him, Thalia, and Annabeth; back when they had all been alive, back when they had all been together, back before everything had gone to shit. It was the last place where they were all together, preserved in memory. As he walked he picked at his tattered camp shirt, wishing more than anything that he could see someone else wearing this shirt. Gods, he’d even taken one of the Romans at this point; it had been a long time since he had seen anything resembling a human that wasn’t a corpse.
When he got back to the cabin he collapsed on his makeshift bed and he sobbed. He sobbed like he hadn’t since Thalia had been turned into a tree, because in the months since Kronos’ ascension to power he had needed to stay strong for Annabeth. For the camp. But now there was no one to be strong for. He was just broken, alone, a tattered immortal that wished he could die so he could see his loved ones one last time.
Was this how Heracles had felt after he had ascended to godhood? Was this how Dionysus, long since dead or imprisoned in Tartarus, had felt when he too had shifted from a demigod to an immortal being? How could they deal with this grief, this pain, the everlasting shame? How would Luke deal with this? Sure, there were still dryads and naiads, but most had fled the nearby area during Kronos’ most recent invasion of Camp Half-Blood. Luke was stuck in purgatory, a barren hell, and there was no way out.
He wished that the Fates had killed him for the second time in his life. Death would be so much better than this.
Somewhere distant, where not even the Titans could touch, the spinners of fate themselves heard the cries of Hermes’ son. The Moirai turned to each other.
‘It is time,’ said Atropos. ‘We cannot allow this to continue.’
‘Kronus has overstayed his welcome,’ agreed Clotho.
The two sisters turned to their third, Lachesis.
‘We must intervene,’ said the third of the Moirai.
‘Delphi is no more, so we must speak for the oracles,’ said Atropos.
‘We must bring heroes from another place, another time, another land,’ said Clotho.
‘We must break our oath on intervention,’ agreed Lachesis, ‘just this once.’
And so they would. But first they needed a prophecy, a prophecy to explain the quest the heroes would have before them.
‘The seven of the Argo must unite once more,’ began Atropos.
‘To save this world from a Titan’s mores,’ continued Clotho.
‘A broken deity shall show the way,’ Lachesis continued.
‘And Kronos’ blade will melt under hate,’ Atropos continued.
‘When all is said and all is done, take the broken hero o’er and away,’ finished Clotho.
The sisters smiled at each other, pleased at their work. It was much less ambiguous than Delphi’s prophecies had been, or even the other oracles, but Apollo was dead and could not argue with them. Besides, these demigods would have a tough enough time without having to decipher a prophecy.
‘I call summoning the heroes!’ Atropos said with glee.
Clotho pouted. ‘I wanted to do that!’
Lachesis rolled her eyes. ‘Primordials, help me. Clotho, you’re in charge of making sure they actually survive the trip. As for me…I will ensure they will arrive where they are needed.’