The stars were wrong.
Percy knew it before he opened his eyes. There was a stillness in the air that felt unnatural. No smell of sea salt. No low buzz of Camp Half-Blood in the distance. No Annabeth murmuring in her sleep beside him. Just an empty, humming void.
He sat up with a gasp, hand instantly gripping Riptide from his pocket. But instead of dirt or grass beneath him, he was sitting on nothing—on everything. A black, star-swirled expanse stretched in all directions, no sky, no ground, just cosmos.
Jason stirred beside him, groaning. "Okay. This... isn't Camp Jupiter."
"Definitely not," Nico muttered, standing already, eyes wary. Shadows clung to him like armor.
Then the space in front of them folded in on itself.
A presence emerged. Not a god. Not a titan. Not even a primordial like Gaea. This being felt older than the universe. Infinite. A voice spoke, soft as wind, vast as galaxies.
"Children of Olympus. You are all that remains."
Percy staggered backward. "What?"
Jason squared his shoulders. "Who are you?"
"I am Chaos," the voice said. "The First. The Beginning. The One from which the gods were born, and to whom they have returned."
Percy's heart dropped. He shook his head. "No. No, the gods can't be... gone."
Chaos's silence was answer enough.
Nico's voice was flat. "What happened?"
"War. Betrayal. Fate unspun. The gods destroyed one another in a final stand against cosmic entropy. But not all was lost. In their last breath, they placed their divine essence... into you."
Percy felt a pull in his chest. Like an anchor tied to something deep and ancient.
"So what? We're... replacements?"
"You are legacies. Vessels of rebirth. Demigods no longer. With time, you will become what they once were. And perhaps more."
Jason's eyes were wide, jaw clenched. "This isn't what I wanted. I didn't ask for this."
Chaos extended a hand.
From the void emerged three relics. They glowed with the power of ages.
To Percy came a gleaming golden trident, glowing with sea-green light. Not just a weapon—a crown, a legacy, a burden. The ocean whispered his name. His knees almost buckled.
"Dad..." he whispered. "I don't know if I can carry this."
Chaos's voice was softer now. "You already are."
To Jason came a crackling lightning bolt, smaller than Zeus's Master Bolt, but still blinding. It hovered like a waiting sentinel. Thunder echoed faintly as he reached for it. His breath caught, and tears formed unbidden.
"He died for me," Jason muttered. "He chose me."
To Nico floated a gleaming onyx helm, ancient and regal, pulsing with underworld energy. He stared at it, face unreadable.
"He never said he loved me," Nico whispered. "But he gave me this."
Then came the weapons. To Percy: a reforged Riptide, inscribed with sea-gold runes and deeper magic. To Jason: a gladius forged from Imperial gold, still tied to his gold coin Ivlivs, but now alive with the weight of the sky. To Nico: a Stygian iron blade, the Sword of Hades, etched with the night and shadow.
"Your world is gone," Chaos intoned. "But a new one calls. There is a rift. A place where threads tangle. It will take you to where you are needed."
"Will we remember you?" Percy asked.
"You will remember who you are. And what you can become."
The cosmos twisted. The floor, the stars, the darkness all fell away—
And they were falling.