Thalia listened to the music, its sound drawing out memories she had buried deep.
She fell into them, drowning without resistance.
...
She blinked.
A sun-drenched clearing. The grass beneath her feet was soft and warm. A breeze teased the edges of her jacket, brushing black strands of hair across her face.
Laughter echoed behind her.
She turned.
Her mother sat beneath a tree, humming softly as she spread jam onto slices of bread. Jason, younger than she remembered, chased butterflies, giggling each time he stumbled.
And beside them, radiant and charismatic, was her father Zeus. Dressed in a suit that radiated authority, but with eyes full of fatherly love.
They were having a picnic. Just a family. Just a day of peace.
Zeus spotted her and smiled, voice filled with warmth and pride.
"Thalia," he said. "You've come home."
However, while his tone was filled with warmth, her heart wasn't.
She stood frozen, barely breathing.
Jason ran to her and hugged her legs.
"Come play," he said.
Her mother looked up and smiled - truly smiled - the way she had before Olympus ruined her mind. Before madness claimed her.
Thalia didn't move.
"…What is this?" Thalia muttered.
Zeus stepped forward. "It's peace. What you deserve. What I never gave you."
Thalia stared into his eyes.
There was no lie there.
And that was what made it unbearable.
She stepped back.
Jason reached for her hand. Her mother called her name.
Zeus frowned slightly, almost like that act of stepping back had broken his heart. "Thalia."
"No!," she said. "This isn't real!."
The breeze shifted.
The sun dimmed.
The warmth turned to static.
The sky flickered, jagged cracks spreading across it like a shattered mirror.
Her mother screamed.
Jason vanished.
The trees caught fire.
Cracks continued to spread through the dream like lightning across a stormcloud.
...
Standing beside a picnic basket, now overturned. Ants crawled over crushed grapes and ruined sandwiches. Her mother's lipstick was smudged. Her hair wild. Wine on her breath.
Jason sat nearby, small and confused.
And then the wind changed.
A spirit descended from the trees. Cloaked in air and malice.
Thalia's eyes went wide, pupils dilating.
"…Please, no," she whispered.
Beryl Grace smiled at the spirit, as if she were greeting a divine guest.
"He sent you, didn't he? He remembers me, right? Are you here to take us to Olympus?"
The spirit stilled, and in a cold voice responded, "Hera sends her regards."
Winds howled, tearing through the trees. Plates shattered. Blankets flew.
Thalia's mother screamed. Tried to run. Stumbled.
And then, in a moment of clarity, now truly as Bery Grace the mother, she turned to Thalia.
"RUN!"
And Thalia? She ran.
She ran and didn't look back.
She heard the tearing.
The screams.
Then silence.
She was alone.
...
Over and over, the memory replayed.
Each time she relived it, she felt something inside her wither.
Her knees gave way. She collapsed onto scorched earth, surrounded by ash and smoke.
Above her, the sky opened.
She saw Olympus. Golden thrones. Divine laughter.
They watched her pain like it was a play.
At the center sat Zeus, wine in hand, smiling as a dryad leaned in with ambrosia.
And beside him sat Hera, gaze fixed directly on Thalia, smiling.
"You watched it happen," Thalia whispered, eyes locked on Zeus.
He didn't respond.
"You could've stopped it."
No reaction.
"You heard me cry for you!"
Her voice turned to thunder. "AND YOU DID NOTHING."
The world shuddered under her scream.
A storm brewed behind her eyes.
Lightning arced through the clouds. Thunder rolled like a war drum.
The illusion shifted.
It showed Jason alive, running to hug her.
It showed Lucas and Luke and Annabeth, dead, broken, torn.
It showed her mother, drunk, collapsing on the floor of their apartment.
Thalia clenched her fists. Her eyes blazed.
She stood.
Chest heaving. Tears staining her cheeks. But her voice was steel.
She roared, and the illusions shattered in a blaze of white-blue light.
Her fury wasn't rooted in chaos. It was righteous.
It had kept her alive when she ran.
And it would set her free now.
The memories would never stop haunting her.
But she would never again run from them.
She would use the past not as a burden but as fuel to strengthen herself, to push forward.
And her fury?
It would break this cage.
And she woke.
...
Cold night air. A flickering fire. Dirt beneath her hands.
Luke knelt beside her, concern in his eyes.
She inhaled sharply, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and pushed herself to her feet.
Luke reached out to steady her, but she was already standing.
And then impulsively, instinctively, she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
Luke blinked. His mouth opened but no words followed.
Thalia turned away, red-faced. "We should find Lucas."
Luke nodded, still stunned. "Right. Yeah."
A low roar echoed across the town.
The two exchanged glances, already guessing where they may find Lucas.
The two of them bolted toward the sound, weapons drawn.
After crossing the town they neared the location.
They rounded the final corner and found Lucas standing there, casually adjusting the collar of his coat.
Lucas casually raised a hand in greeting.
"You're late," he said.