Hecate stood above the broken bodies of Kratos, Bia, and Zelus, breathing heavily. Although she was stronger than they were, their teamwork made it difficult to defeat them quickly. It was only midway through the fight when her attitude changed, no longer caring about the consequences of her actions, and she fought without holding back, accepting that one or two of them might die.
The only reason they were still breathing right now was because of the man next to her, Hermes.
"Hecate."
Hermes' voice was unusually gentle, though his eyes flickered with guilt, knowing they had been played, acting as a pawn to keep Hecate away from her family. As for why he knew this, he pieced it together after receiving a message from his son about Lucas, but even if he knew the right thing was to allow Hecate to leave, he couldn't disobey his father.
"Zeus won't wait any longer."
Hecate's eyes glowed violet, her aura crackling as fury rose within her like a storm. For a heartbeat, she nearly let it consume her, considering whether she had the energy to ignore Olympus, and she didn't. If she were alone, that was fine, but she also had to consider Elysian now. If she brought trouble to the city, Lucas would never forgive her if she let his work be undone in a moment of rage. Hecate sighed, her aura deflating.
She gave a final look towards the direction of where the Thorne residence lay, almost as if she could see it. She could already guess the outcome; something in her heart had shattered earlier, and while she desperately wanted to deny what it was, she couldn't; it was loss, heartbreak, the same feeling she felt whenever any of her children died.
Hermes lingered as Hecate went to Olympus; he ignored the siblings that lay scattered and broken on the ground, knowing they wouldn't die, and turned his gaze in the same direction Hecate had.
His expression was complicated, his lips parted, as though he might say something, but no words came. With a small sigh, Hermes gave one last look at the trio, anger in his gaze, before turning and returning to Olympus.
...
The news spread slowly at first; no one knew who first spread it, but the knowledge of what happened, not only at the Thorne residence but also with Hecate, spread. Soon, everyone knew of the return of Kronos, with rumors spreading that it was his orders that targeted Lucas and his mortal father, seeking to take over Elysian. While there was uproar and fearmongering about the return of Kronos, more news emerged about Olympus allying with Kronos to kill Lucas, with them intervening to hold back Hecate and prevent her from saving her family.
When this rumor spread, it ruined Olympus' reputation, allying with their mortal enemies to target Elysian, believing its creation to be undermining their power. Even when Olypus tried to clarify, it was too late; word had spread, and the rumor had been accepted. Elysian blamed both Kronos and Olympus for Lucas' death, ensuring they could never ally and sowing seeds for future conflicts.
...
Annabeth didn't believe it at first.
When the first rumors reached Elysian, she had shouted in denial, her grey eyes wide with fury. "You're lying! He promised me he'd come back!"
Thalia said nothing for hours. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible, guilt silencing her. "We should have gone with him."
Luke tried to be steady, to be a pillar as the eldest among them. When Annabeth broke down, he caught her in a hug, letting her sob into his shoulder. When Thalia was mumbling in self-blame, he kept a hand on her arm, grounding her and reassuring her it wasn't her fault.
But when he was alone, his eyes were hollow.
...
A few months passed, and Elysian held a grand funeral for Lucas, burning his body on a pyre, orchestrated by Hestia and attended by all residents. Even though Lucas wasn't the physical leader of Elysian, having it run as a democracy, he was the spiritual leader, the one who founded the city. His death hurt all residents, fueling their hatred of Olympus and Kronos.
That night, Annabeth lay awake, unable to sleep. This had been a recurring problem since finding out about Lucas's not returning. Her dreams were filled with guilt-laced nightmares.
She sat up, rubbing the tears from her eyes, and put on some shoes, intending to go on her usual midnight walk. She left the Hestia cabin, making sure not to wake Thalia or Luke, and followed the usual worn trail through the nearby woods and along the river until she reached her sanctuary, an olive tree she had been secretly growing and tending to since she first came to Elysian.
It was in the middle of a small clearing, allowing her to lie down and stare at the constellations, this is how she had been able to sleep latley, staring at the stars until she grew too tired to stay awake. It wasn't until she lay down and looked up that she saw it. On the branches above her lay a wooden box, balanced preciously.
Annabeth, curious, rose, climbing the tree and reached out to grab the box, placing it under her arm as she climbed back down, landing on the ground. She checked it, seeing it had no lock, and carefully opened the lid, peaking inside.
Inside, resting on black cloth, was a dagger.
Halcyon's dagger.
Annabeth's breath caught. Her trembling fingers lifted the weapon, the familiar weight settling into her palm. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
When she lifted the dagger, she noticed something she hadn't noticed: beneath the dagger lay a card. Confused, she reached in and turned it over.
The High Priestess.
...
Luke trained alone in the forest, sweat soaking his shirt and his muscles aching, but he continued. This wasn't about exercising; it was about relieving himself of his feelings, not wanting himself to collapse under their weight. He had to be there for Thalia and Annabeth, so he couldn't show weakness in front of them.
He hurled his blade into a tree with a shout, striking deep into the bark. He didn't immediately go to retrieve the sword; instead, he turned and returned to his equipment, lifting his workout towel to wipe the sweat from his eyes, but as he lifted it, a card fell out.
He was sure there hadn't been a card there originally, looking around he saw no one, so he reached down and picked it up, revealing it to be a tarot card.
The Magician
...
Far from Elysian, in a lovely café in Paris, Eros was enjoying some coffee, waiting for his wife, Psyche, to arrive for their date. He always arrived early for the dates, enjoying spending some time watching the mortals and their love, the moments bringing warmth to him. As he raised his cup to his mouth, he caught sight of something that caused his brows to furrow, seriousness replacing his casual demeanor.
Beneath his cup, sitting atop the saucer where it had rested, was a card, something that shouldn't have been there. He remembered clearly it wasn't there when he ordered the drink, meaning someone had slipped it there while he wasn't paying attention, and for a god like himself, that was terrifying.
He studied the card, carefully looking for anything that might seem dangerous or reveal who had placed it, but there was nothing. Frowning, he turned the card over, revealing it to be a tarot card.
The Lovers.
...
In a castle made of grey mist lay a long blackwood table, surrounded by twenty-two high-backed chairs.
At its head sat a lone figure, wearing a theatre mask. One half was carved into a face of radiant joy. The other, quiet sorrow. His eyes gleamed an onyx black.
Between his fingers spun a card.
The Fool.