The Weight of Prophecies
Miraak appeared at the entrance of the hotel, and a lightning bolt struck beside him at the same time, revealing Thor standing next to him. The timing was so perfect that it left no doubt about the power and speed of the thunder god, even if Miraak had used teleportation.
"Hahahahaha! What a shame, I would've liked to fight that guy. They say one of his powers drives his enemies drunk with madness. I'd really like to see what he can do," said Thor as he entered through the main doors, his laughter echoing across the grand hall.
Miraak simply walked by his side. Thor's style, his attitude, and his very presence were unmistakably Nordic, so it wasn't hard to get along with him. Still, Miraak didn't really have friends. He saw Thor as a rival he couldn't yet defeat… not yet. And yet, it seemed the thunder god had already accepted him as a friend without Miraak even realizing it.
"Oh, finally, you're here," said Odin, standing near the counter as he finished giving a few words to the valkyrie at the reception. She quickly bowed and left, creating a subtle tension in the air.
"That was interesting. I should go out more often," Thor commented with a relaxed grin.
Odin looked at him but said nothing. In that moment, Thor seemed to catch a scent in the air.
"Oh, looks like my liquor has arrived. See you later, Miraak. Remember to stop by after you're done with that lizard. Let's see how strong you get this time," said Thor as he strolled casually down the hallway. People passing by greeted him respectfully, bowing their heads. Thor answered each with an easy smile, as if his divinity weighed less on him than his hammer did.
"Why did you send him?" asked Miraak, turning toward Odin. After all, it made little sense for Thor to appear just in time to interrupt a potential fight with Mr. D.
"You know… even though you act so serious and cold, you're almost as impulsive as Thor," Odin replied calmly, watching him like an old man observing a stubborn child.
Though, ironically, Miraak was older than he appeared.
Miraak frowned at the remark, but before he could speak, Odin continued.
"You're not only putting yourself in danger—though I'm sure you'd survive, even if a little wounded, from a fight against Dionysus, god of wine—but have you thought about what could happen to your disciple? Right now, the leading god of his pantheon is looking for any excuse to send him on a one-way trip to the Underworld. And it's not just because of you… but because of his father as well."
Odin's voice grew heavier.
"Do you really think he wouldn't do it? He tried to kill his own brother's children once, and even murdered the man's mortal wife. What do you think would happen if one of his sons were hurt? It wouldn't be out of love—it would be out of pride… the pride of a pantheon's ruler. There are many things he could take advantage of, Miraak. Many."
The last words carried a hint of disdain before the god's tone returned to its usual calm.
Miraak raised an eyebrow. The information had taken him by surprise. To think that gods still acted with the honor of ancient warriors was foolish—truly foolish.
"Anyway, someone found out about your help to those brothers before. They want to hire you. It's amusing how there's now a kind of… mercenary for gods with dragon problems forming," said Odin with a faint smile. Yet Miraak could tell—the old man was hiding something. Not something that put him in danger, but rather something Odin was deliberately avoiding. Something connected to Miraak himself.
…
"Aaah, again," Percy sighed as he read the letter that had appeared in his hand. It was from his teacher. The message said he had another job, so he'd be gone for a while. It ended with a typical Miraak note: "In the meantime, try not to die. Unless you want me to bring you back as a zombie."
Percy remembered the mummy in the oracle's cabin and felt a shiver run down his spine.
"And I wanted to ask him what those different prophecies from the mummy even meant," he muttered while flipping through the notes he'd written down from memory. Now that he looked at them, they sounded like several different fates. Something completely strange, since Mr. Brunner—or rather, Chiron—had told him that prophecies only showed one path, one possible destiny. But Percy was sure he had heard four different oracles… something that didn't fit any of those rules.
He knew Miraak was wise; his master had told him he'd once been in a place where all knowledge gathered together. Even if he hadn't wanted it, he knew everything. Yet Percy often wondered if that knowledge might be… a little off, since his teacher always seemed to ignore the most mundane things about this world.
"So I have to… fight Hades?" Percy said in annoyance. At that exact moment, he felt a sharp smack to the back of his head.
When he turned around, Annabeth was there, staring at the ground with a wary look, as if she expected it to open up beneath her feet.
"Could you not say the names of every god out loud?" said Annabeth seriously.
"Right… I can't just say a random god's name before the thunder starts," Percy muttered irritably, rubbing the back of his neck.
That girl—ever since the moment he met her—did nothing but annoy him. Sometimes he started to think they might have been enemies in a past life.
Then something clicked in Percy's mind. According to Grover, Annabeth was the camper who had been at camp the longest.
"Hey… do you know anything about how someone who's supposed to be dead can come back to life?" he asked, looking at her with curiosity.
Annabeth looked at him like he was an idiot for several seconds.
"Are you talking about an archetype?" she asked.
"Arche—what?" Percy replied, confused.
"Archetype. That's what Chiron calls them. Those monsters, like the Minotaur you killed," Annabeth explained with a sigh, rolling her eyes. "What's wrong? You scared it's coming back for you?" she added with a slight smirk.
Percy immediately felt annoyed and turned around to leave, unwilling to keep arguing with her.
"Hey!" shouted Annabeth, irritated at being left talking to herself. But Percy didn't stop or even glance back, which made her stomp her foot in frustration and spin sharply before storming off, her golden hair whipping through the air as she disappeared between the columns of the path.
Percy had had enough. He'd gotten the answer he needed.
Mrs. Dodds was alive.
And she was a follower of a god—more precisely, a follower of Hades.
And now he would have to go to the Underworld to rescue his mother… and complete that stupid quest.
"It was more fun when everyone thought I was half crazy and my teacher made me train by lifting chests full of gold," Percy grumbled as he made his way toward the Big House, determined to speak with Chiron. He had the prophecies written in his notes and needed to understand them, even if he didn't trust that teacher who pretended to be human just to keep an eye on him.
With Miraak gone, his only options were to search for information on his own—something that would likely lead nowhere—or let Chiron tell him everything… while pretending to agree, acting as if he had fully accepted his demigod fate.
His master always told him: "You must be the one who keeps control of everything. Even if others think they have it, when your sword pierces their heart, they'll realize they were always the fools in your game."
Bloody words, yes—but that was Miraak's way.
In just that one week at camp, Percy felt like he had matured faster than ever before. It wasn't that the camp had helped him—no. It was more like he could suddenly see things that had always been there, hidden, waiting for someone to remove the blindfold from his eyes. It was as if he were freeing himself from invisible chains, letting his thoughts flow, growing in his own way.
He finally understood why Miraak had never told him he was a demigod before. And he also realized that while he trained, his master had been killing monsters around him without his knowledge. He had noticed it the night even the camp was attacked by hellhounds.
If those creatures could reach this place… what was the world outside like?
Maybe, from the very day they met, Miraak had been silently eliminating every monster that came near—protecting him without ever saying a word.
Percy realized that the bond he felt with his master only grew stronger. In Miraak, he saw the father figure he had never had—the one he had always needed.
Harsh. Demanding. But real.
Of course, if he ever told Miraak that, he'd probably end up training until he coughed up blood and his hands were raw. Or worse, he'd get beaten under the excuse of "sword practice." So, for his own good, he'd keep that to himself.
With those thoughts swirling in his head, Percy kept walking until he finally reached the place where he was supposed to meet Chiron.