Bewitched || P. Jackson

𝕊aying goodbye

The room was dark when Nicki opened her eyes.

She stared at her body in awe. Her left arm was still strapped down in a sling. She cursed silently. Even now, she still only had one arm.

"Hi?" Nicki's voice was raspy like she had just swallowed a mouthful of gravel. Or like she had just died, either one.

The circular room was empty except for three throne-like chairs.

The three figures on the chairs stared down at her in disdain. She recognised the figure on the left. He was a very tall and imposing man in white robes, with a thin royal circlet of gold on his head. His beard was pointed like a spear blade, while his eyes glittered cruelly and tendrils of Mist coiled off his robes.

"Your hamartia brings you before us." The man in the centre spoke. "It has done you well, young hero."

"Shush, Jefferson. I'm trying to pay attention." Minos gestured to the moving picture that was hovering in the centre of the room. Nicki's brow furrowed. How hadn't she noticed it before?

"Watch with us, young hero. The battle is not yet over."

Taking a seat on the floor awkwardly, Nicki focused on the moving picture before her.

"So much for her." Kronos picked up his sword. "And now for the rest of you."

Percy's grip never lessened on Nicki's body. Incomprehensible pain covered his face as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. "I loved her." He breathed, almost as if he was admitting it to himself.

For a moment, Kronos' eyes flickered between
a godly golden and a heartbroken blue. Then they solidified on gold.

"Weak."

"I LOVED HER!" Percy screamed. He hugged Nicki's body even tighter. "You coward. You are nothing but a weak, petty, coward."

"Fight me then, Percy Jackson. Let me prove I am no coward."

"Fine." Percy moved carefully across the hall to lay Nicki's body at the foot of Apollo's throne. Gently, he shut her eyes. "Keep him away from Ethan, do you understand?"

Grover nodded. "Got it." He'd stopped playing and was feeding Annabeth ambrosia.

Percy steadied Riptide, then charged.

Everywhere Kronos stepped, the roots wrapped around his feet, but Grover had stopped his magic too early. The roots weren't thick or strong enough to do much more than annoy the Titan.

They fought through the hearth, kicking up coals and sparks. Kronos slashed an armrest off the throne of Ares, which was okay by Percy, but then he backed Percy up to his dad's throne.

"Oh, yes," Kronos said. "This one will make fine kindling for my new hearth!"

Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks. He was stronger than Percy, but for the moment he felt the power of the ocean in his arms. Percy pushed him back and struck again—slashing Riptide across his breastplate so hard that Percy cut a gash in the Celestial bronze.

He stamped his foot again and time slowed. Percy tried to attack but he was moving at the speed of a glacier. Kronos backed up leisurely, catching his breath. He examined the gash in his armour while Percy struggled forward, silently cursing him. He could take all the time-outs he wanted. He could freeze Percy in place at will. The only hope was that the effort was draining him. If Percy could wear him down...

"It's too late, Percy Jackson," he said. "Behold."
He pointed to the hearth, and the coals glowed.

A sheet of white smoke poured from the fire, forming images like an Iris message.