Chapter 68
The silence that followed Chiron's proclamation was absolute, broken only by the distant lap of creek water and the ragged sound of my own breathing. Above my head, the green trident spun slowly, casting a faint sea-green light on the stunned faces of the campers. But it was nothing compared to the spectacle surrounding James.
My older brother stood like a pillar of contained chaos. The black skulls orbited his left shoulder, their hollow eyes seeming to drink the light. Silvery runes—the bright, shifting spells of Hecate—swam around his arms like glowing eels. Above his right shoulder, weapons wreathed in a blood-red aura—a sword, a spear, an axe—slowly rotated. Higher still, a luminous owl of Athena watched with wise, unblinking eyes. A silver moon and a golden sun spun in a slow, celestial dance around each other near his temple, while at his feet, the winged sandal of Hermes beat a frantic, silent rhythm.
I was scratched and my armor was in tatters, but I felt fine. The hellhound's attack had been a blur of shadow and heat, stopped cold by a sonic boom and James's impossible speed. Now, the numbness from leaving the creek was gone, replaced by a buzzing, electric confusion.
"Our godly parentage?" I repeated, my voice too loud in the quiet. "But… that's… eight. That's eight gods."
James didn't look surprised. He looked resigned, his jaw tight as he stared at the blood—now vanished—on his hands. The blood he'd somehow *manipulated* from the hellhound. He'd always been different. Faster, stronger, picking up skills with an eerie, effortless ease. Now we knew why.
Annabeth was the first to break the kneeling silence, not with a bow, but with a step forward, her gray eyes wide with a storm of calculation and dread. "This explains the hellhound. It wasn't just summoned. It was *sent*. For one of you. Or… for the anomaly." She looked at James. "No one has ever… The gods don't… share."
Chiron clopped forward, his tail swishing nervously. "The Oracle has been silent on this for a reason. A child of more than one god is… unheard of. A child of *eight*…" He looked from the trident above me to the swirling pantheon around James. "Poseidon has claimed you both. But the others… Hades, Athena, Artemis, Apollo, Ares, Hermes, Hecate… they have all imprinted their mark upon James. He is a nexus. A focal point."
Luke stepped up, his friendly mask gone, replaced by a pale, stark seriousness. "A focal point for what?"
"For power," Chiron said gravely. "And for conflict. The ancient laws are strained. This," he gestured to James, "is a paradox. The gods do not tolerate paradoxes."
Clarisse found her voice again, though it was less a shout and more a disbelieving rasp. "So he's a freak? A monster?"
In a movement too fast to follow, James was in front of her, not touching her, but close enough that the orbiting skulls seemed to leer into her face. The air grew cold. "I just killed a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment that *you* couldn't handle," he said, his voice low and layered with a dozen different echoes—a whisper of shadows, a ring of musical clarity, the cold edge of strategy. "Choose your next word very carefully."
Clarisse stumbled back, genuine fear in her eyes for the first time.
"James," I said. He glanced at me, and the terrifying intensity softened, just a fraction. The sun and moon's spin slowed.
"What does this mean for us?" I asked Chiron.
"It means your lives just became infinitely more complicated," he sighed. "You, Percy, are a forbidden child. Your existence alone risks a war among the gods. But James… he is a challenge to the very order of Olympus. He is a living treaty—or a living battleground—between eight major domains. You will both be targets. For monsters drawn to such potent divine blood. And for… other forces."
Annabeth sheathed her dagger, her mind visibly racing. "They'll need training. Different training. Percy will need to learn the ways of the sea. But James…" She looked him up and down, assessing. "You'll need combat strategy from Athena's children. Magic theory from Hecate's. Archery from Apollo and Artemis's cabins. Stealth from Hermes. You'll have to learn to control the shadows of the Underworld and the rage of war… without being consumed by any of them."
James finally spoke to the group, his gaze sweeping over the kneeling campers. "I'm not a god. I'm not a weapon. I'm just me." The holograms above him flickered, as if in protest. "But I protected my brother today. That's all that matters to me."
Chiron nodded slowly. "That loyalty may be what saves you. Or what damns you. Come. The council will need to be informed. And you both have much to learn."
As we followed Chiron towards the Big House, the holograms finally faded. But the weight of them remained. I had one father to answer to, one set of expectations.
I looked at James, walking beside me, his expression unreadable. He had eight.
And somewhere in the darkness, something older than the gods had just taken notice.