The Worlds Collide (A Keeper of the Lost Cities and Percy Jackson Crossover)

Why Can't the Gods Solve Their Own Stupid Interspecial War?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

    Sophie's consciousness faded out of Elwin's office, leaving behind a bunch of panicking friends concerned for her safety and the comfortable weight of Bullhorn the banshee at her side.  Logically, she knew this meant she was probably dying and should probably wake up, but did her tired, worn, pain-ridden body want to do that?  Not at all.  And so she let her mind drift, feeling small in the oppressive weight of the mists in her mind.

    Suddenly, a bright yellow light flashed and burned through the mists, revealing the image of a huge room with giant chairs lining the sides in a humongous semicircle.  No, 'chairs' wasn't the right word for these structures.  'Thrones' was probably more accurate, with Sophie probably only able to touch the seat of the throne by stretching on her tippy-toes, and the thrones topping off at around 14 feet tall.

    Having been distracted by the thrones, Sophie finally noticed their occupants.  She was surprised she hadn't noticed them earlier, because their very aura seemed to draw attention.  Their size matched the height of their thrones, with each figure standing at about 12 feet tall.  There were twelve of them, each with a unique throne and a unique vibe they were giving off.   Ah. she realized.  They're gods.  I should have known.

    Of course, she reasoned, I'm probably suffering massive blood loss, and decreased brain function definitely makes sense.

    The gods seemed to be arguing about something, and as soon as Sophie focused on hearing their conversation, their words became clearer.

    "-too dangerous."  Was that Athena, over there with the shield?

    "We were only slightly inclined to believe they wouldn't kill each other when we formed this plan, and that was before that elfy group started interfering." Sophie thought that was probably Dionysis, clutching the staff with the pinecone on the top.

    "Sophie is the key to all of this," said a woman in white, draped in a peacock cloak and a circlet of gold on her forehead.  Probably Hera.

    Hey! Sophie realized slowly, her thoughts moving like molasses.  They're talking about me! Her brain tuned back in, and she was disappointed to realize that she had missed a few sentences.

    "I vote we just kill them all," mused a guy in red, idly twirling a rocket launcher between his fingers like the world's most dangerous pen.

    "We must trust Sophie and we must trust our children," the guy at the center of the semicircle with a matching circlet to Hera's stated.  "They will find the right path.  We cannot interfere."

    The gods broke into an argument, but Sophie was surprised to find she couldn't hear them anymore.  It was like she was underwater, hearing muffled voices at the surface.

    A clear voice rang through the murkiness.  "They're wrong about you, you know."

    Sophie spun around, facing the source of the voice.  A tall man with gray hair and a long black coat stood at the back of the throne room, shimmering like a mirage.  Sophie couldn't see his face, and there was a certain wrongness about him, but she couldn't place what it was.

    "They say you are the key, but you're really just another one of their pawns." He shrugged, smiled, and spread his hands, like what did you want me to say?

    "Why are you showing me this?" Sophie demanded, her heart racing.  The smile slid off of the man's face.  Sophie realized he didn't have a shadow.

    "So you understand that they can't help you." He pulled a knife from the dark mists creeping back into the edges of her vision.  "And you understand what's at stake."  He lunged toward Sophie with the knife, and her vision went black, the last image of him holding a knife over her seared into her mind.

Y'all hate me. I know. I suck.  I'm also a very busy person who needs to make writing a priority.  If you like this story and this chapter, please let me know by commenting or voting, because that's really what keeps me writing.

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