Bewitched || P. Jackson

𝕋he last time

It's not that Nicki wasn't used to demigod dreams, she was just getting really sick of them. Every night was getting a bit excessive.

Surely the gods could just send her a post-it note with the information she needed instead of making her sit through other people's lives every night. There had to be a better way to get information than dreams every night. What if she had a demigod dream and then forgot it when she woke up?

She crossed her arms angrily as she stood behind Percy's head at a counsellor's meeting.

"Now," Chiron continued, his eyes flickering to where Nicki stood for a millisecond, "if you please, counsellors. Percy has brought something I think you should hear. Percy—the Great Prophecy."

Annabeth handed Percy the parchment. His fingers fumbled with the string. Percy uncurled the paper, trying not to rip it. Nicki peered over his shoulder as he began to read:

"A half-blood of the eldest dogs..."

"Er, Percy?" Annabeth interrupted. "That's gods. Not dogs."

"Oh, right," Percy said. He flushed, slightly embarrassed. "A half-blood of the eldest gods, Shall reach sixteen against all odds..."

Percy hesitated, staring at the next lines. Nicki rested her hand on his shoulder. His skin pricked with goosebumps as if she was actually there.

"And see the world in endless sleep,
The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."

Percy fell silent. Nicki's jaw locked. Her mind drifted toward Backbiter and her stomach dropped.

"Percy," Chiron urged. "Read the rest."

Percy sounded like his throat was drier than the Sahara, but he spoke the last two lines.

"A single choice shall. . . shall end his days.
Olympus to per—pursue—"

"Preserve," Annabeth said gently. She seemed hyper-aware of embarrassing Percy. "It means to save."

"I know what it means," Percy grumbled, shifting slightly away from Annabeth. "Olympus to preserve or raze."

The room was silent. Finally, Connor Stoll said, "Raise is good, isn't it?"

"Not raise," Silena said. Her voice was hollow, but they seemed startled to hear her speak at all. "R-a-z-e means destroy."

"Obliterate," Annabeth said. "Annihilate. Turn to rubble."

"Got it." Nicki's heart felt like lead at the pain in Percy's voice. "Thanks."

Everybody was looking at him—with concern, or pity, or maybe a little fear.

Chiron closed his eyes as if he were saying a prayer. In horse form, his head almost brushed the lights in the rec room. "You see now, Percy, why we thought it best not to tell you the whole prophecy. You've had enough on your shoulders—"

"Without realizing I was going to die in the end anyway?" Percy said. "Yeah, I get it."

Chiron gazed at him sadly. The guy was three thousand years old. He'd seen hundreds of heroes die. He might not like it, but he was used to it. He probably knew better than to try to reassure the demigod.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "You know prophecies always have double meanings. It might not literally mean you die."

"Sure," Percy said. "A single choice shall end his days. That has tons of meanings, right?"

"Maybe we can stop it," Jake Mason offered. "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. Maybe we could find this cursed blade and destroy it. Sounds like Kronos's scythe, right?"