He did it on the roof of Rachel's house, on the first Saturday in October, at sunset.
Rachel's house was not really a house. It was a five-story townhouse on the Upper East Side, the kind with a doorman and a private elevator and paintings on the walls worth more than most people's apartments. And on top of it was a roof garden. Rachel had taken it over two years ago and filled it with easels and paint cans and half-finished canvases and potted plants she kept forgetting to water. It had a view of the whole city. The sun was setting behind the skyline in a long red-gold blaze, and the windows of a thousand buildings were catching fire one by one.
The four of them sat in a circle on the rooftop, on folded drop cloths stained with every color of paint in the world.
Nancy had brought snacks. Matt had brought a notebook. Rachel had brought nothing at all. She'd just been sitting on the roof when they got there, cross-legged, watching the sunset, like she'd been waiting for them for hours.
"So," Nancy said, opening a bag of chips. "You said this was important. Like, important important. Not 'help me with my algebra homework' important."
"Yeah," Percy said.
"So what is it?"
Percy looked at the three of them.
Nancy Bobofit, with her red hair scraped back in a ponytail and freckles across her nose, holding the chip bag like a weapon. In his first life she'd been a bully. A sneering, spitball-throwing kid at Yancy Academy who'd made his sixth-grade year miserable. In this life, she'd shoved him off the monkey bars on the first day of second grade, and then, a few years later, knocked on his family's door at midnight because she had nowhere else to go. She'd never forgotten whose door it was. Neither had he.
Matt Sloan, with his wire-rimmed glasses and his pressed button-down shirt and his rich-kid haircut. Another bully, in the first world. In this one, the kid who'd sat on the floor of Rachel's library for years of afternoons, quizzing Percy on history dates while Rachel drilled him on math, patiently, without ever once making him feel stupid.
And Rachel. Rachel Elizabeth Dare, with paint on her fingers and green in her eyes. In his first life, he'd met her on a dam, too late, and she'd become something he'd never understood: the Oracle, the voice of Apollo, a girl who could never love anyone. In this one, he'd met her on purpose, years ago, and she'd looked at him with those strange green-flecked eyes and said, You're not supposed to be here. Are you? And he'd known, right then, that she was going to matter.
Three kids who'd chosen him. Every time. In every version of every world.
"I want to give you something," Percy said. "But it's going to cost something too. And it's going to change you. Maybe forever. So I need you to really think about it before you say yes."
The three of them went quiet.
"Change us how?" Matt said carefully.
Percy took a breath. And he told them.
He told them about Hecate. About the crossroads and the cupcake and the two weeks of lessons in the rain. About the Mist: what it was, how it worked, how a story could hide a whole world if enough people believed it.
He told them about the islands. They knew about the islands, of course. They'd been working on the islands since June. But he told them about the Mist part. About how you couldn't hide a city of demigods from satellites and the Coast Guard and nosy reporters without it. About how he couldn't do it alone. About how he was only one person, and he was going to have other things to do. Wars, and floors, and quests.
And then he told them about the Spark.
"Mortals can't really use the Mist," he said. "Not well. Hecate says some can learn a little, if they've got the Sight. Like Rachel. But it's like trying to paint with your fingers. You need something to draw on. Some kind of... divinity."
"Divinity," Nancy repeated flatly. "Like... god stuff."
"Like god stuff."
"And you want to give us god stuff."
"A little bit of it," Percy said. "Just a spark. Enough to use the Mist. Maybe more, later, as it grows." He paused. "I can do it. The System can. I found out after Hecate. But I have to pay for it with Faith."
"The thing that makes you level up," said Matt slowly. "Your Rank."
"Yeah."
"How much?"
Percy hesitated. Then he pulled up the screen, and turned it so they could see. They could see the screens now, since the quest, when he wanted them to. He'd never figured out why.
[HIDDEN FUNCTION: KINDLE.]
[Minimum investment: 1,000 Faith per Spark.]
[Current Faith toward Rank C: 3,410 / 8,000.]
The three of them stared at the numbers.
"That's..." Matt did the math in his head, fast, the way he always did. "That's almost everything you've got. Three thousand. You'd be back down to four hundred."
"Yeah."
"How long did it take you to get those three thousand?"
Percy didn't answer.
"Percy," Nancy said. "How long?"
"All summer," he said quietly. "Since the quest."
Nobody said anything.
The sun was almost down now. The sky over the city was going from gold to red to deep purple, and the first lights were coming on in the buildings below.
"No," said Rachel.
Percy looked at her.
She was sitting very straight on her drop cloth, with her paint-stained hands clenched in her lap. Her green eyes were fierce.
"No," she said again. "You can't. That's yours. You earned that. You almost died for that, Percy. I watched you. Twice. I'm not letting you throw it away on—"
"On you?" Percy said.
Rachel stopped.
"I'm not throwing it away," Percy said gently. "Rach. Listen. I could keep it. I could hit Rank C by Christmas, probably. Get stronger. More shadows. Bigger lightning. And then what?" He looked at all three of them. "I'd be stronger. And I'd still be alone. One guy, trying to hide two islands and run a company and climb a tower and fight a war and keep a whole camp alive. By myself." He shook his head. "I tried that once. In the other world. Being the guy who does everything. It didn't end well."
He looked at Rachel.
"I don't want to be stronger by myself," he said. "I want us to be strong together. That's what this is for. That's what the city's for. That's the whole point."
Rachel's eyes were wet. She didn't say anything.
"And honestly?" Percy added. "You guys have been carrying this whole thing since June. The company. The lawyers. The islands. All of it. While I've been off fighting old men in the rain. You earned this. More than I earned the Faith."
The silence stretched on.
Then Nancy put down her bag of chips.
"Okay," she said. "I'm in."
Percy blinked. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." Nancy shrugged, but her jaw was set. "I told you a long time ago. Wherever you go, I'm going. You think I'm gonna let a little god stuff scare me off?" She paused. "Does it hurt?"
"I don't know," Percy admitted.
"Great," said Nancy. "Love that. Still in."
Matt took off his glasses, and cleaned them on his shirt, slowly, the way he always did when he was thinking very hard. Then he put them back on.
"What happens to us?" he asked. "Long-term. Do we live longer? Do monsters smell us? Can we still go to college?"
"I don't know all of it," Percy said honestly. "I'll tell you everything the System tells me. Monsters might notice you more. That's the big risk. But you'll be able to see them coming, and hide from them. And I'll teach you how to fight." He hesitated. "And yeah. You can still go to college."
Matt nodded slowly. "Then I'm in too." A pause. "For the record, I think this is completely insane."
"Noted."
They both looked at Rachel.
She was looking at the sunset. At the last thin line of red on the horizon, going out.
"I've been seeing things my whole life," she said quietly. "Things nobody else sees. Monsters on the subway. Shadows that don't belong to anybody. And now you, in my dreams, dying in the rain in some other world." She turned and looked at him. "I always thought it was a curse. Something wrong with me. My dad sent me to three different doctors."
"It's not a curse," Percy said. "It's a gift. It's always been a gift."
"I know," Rachel said. "I know that now. Because of you." She held out her hand to him, palm up. "So yes. Okay. Give me the god stuff."
[KINDLE: Initiated.]
[Targets: Nancy Bobofit, Matt Sloan, Rachel Elizabeth Dare.]
[Each target has chosen to follow the Host. Each target has consented.]
[Faith to be invested: 1,000 each. Total: 3,000.]
[This sacrifice is permanent. Confirm?]
Percy looked at the three of them, sitting in a circle on a paint-stained roof in Manhattan, holding hands, in the dark.
Confirm.
He felt it go.
It was like a tide going out. Something deep in his chest, something warm and bright that he hadn't known was there until now, pouring out of him. Down his arms. Into his hands. Into theirs.
And they lit up.
Nancy first. A warm amber glow, like firelight, like the light through a kitchen window on a cold night. It started at her fingertips and ran up her arms and settled in her chest, and her eyes went wide. Her freckles seemed to glow.
Then Matt. A cool, clear blue, steady and sharp, like light on water. Like the glow of a screen in a dark room at three in the morning, when you finally figure out the answer. It flowed up through him and settled behind his eyes, and his glasses flashed.
Then Rachel.
Rachel was different.
The Spark went into her, and for one second it was green, a soft spring green, like new leaves. And then something answered it. Something deep inside her, older than Percy, older than the System, older than the whole world. Something that had been waiting.
Green fire burst up around her like a column, and smoke, thick and green and coiling, poured out of her mouth and her nose and her eyes. The whole rooftop lit up emerald. The paint cans rattled. An easel fell over. Rachel's head snapped back, and her eyes rolled up white, and she spoke.
Not in her voice. In a voice like three voices, like an old woman and a young girl and a snake, all at once.
"Not yet," said the voice. "Not yet, not yet. She is not yet mine. But soon. Soon the snake leaves its prison, and the girl shall be the voice. Remember, son of no one. You lit the first fire."
And then the green fire collapsed back into her, and the smoke vanished, and Rachel Elizabeth Dare slumped forward onto the drop cloth, gasping.
"Rachel!" Nancy and Matt both lunged for her.
Percy didn't move. He couldn't. He was staring at her, frozen, with his heart slamming against his ribs.
The Oracle, he thought. That was the Oracle. That was the spirit of Delphi. It's still trapped in the mummy in the attic at camp. It can't come out yet. It can't take a new host until...
Until the curse is broken. Until Hades's curse on the Oracle ends.
She is not yet mine. But soon.
[WARNING: Unexpected resonance.]
[The Spark kindled in Rachel Elizabeth Dare has touched an existing thread. Source: Delphic. Nature: Prophetic.]
[Great Sage cannot fully read this thread. It is older than the System.]
[Note: The subject's Spark has been... noticed.]
Rachel was sitting up now, with Nancy holding her shoulders and Matt holding her hand. She was pale and shaking and coughing. But her eyes were her own again. Green. Clear.
"What," she croaked, "was that?"
Percy came over and knelt in front of her.
"Do you remember what you said?"
Rachel shook her head. "I didn't... I don't... there was a voice. In my head. Old. So old. And it was happy, Percy. It was so happy. Like it had been waiting for me." She stared at him. "What did I say?"
Percy thought about lying.
He'd been doing that a lot lately. Thinking about lying, and then not doing it.
"You're going to be something," he said. "Someday. Something big. Something the whole world of gods is going to listen to." He took her hand. "I didn't know it was going to start tonight. I'm sorry. I swear I didn't know."
Rachel looked at him for a long time.
"Is it bad?" she whispered.
"No," Percy said. "No, Rach. It's not bad. In the other world, it was the best thing that ever happened to you."
She searched his face. Whatever she found there, it must have been enough. Slowly, she nodded.
And then, very shakily, she started to laugh.
"My dad," she gasped, "is going to freak."
[KINDLE: Complete.]
[Faith toward Rank C: 3,410 → 410 / 8,000.]
[NANCY BOBOFIT]
[Status: Thread-Bound (Spark of Divinity, Lesser).]
[Spark Aspect: Hearthfire. Steady. Protective. Stubborn.]
[Unlocked: Clear Sight (sees through the Mist).]
[Unlocked: Mist Weaving (Lv 1).]
[Unlocked: The Loom (Companion access, with the Host).]
[MATT SLOAN]
[Status: Thread-Bound (Spark of Divinity, Lesser).]
[Spark Aspect: Clearwater. Precise. Analytical. Patient.]
[Unlocked: Clear Sight (sees through the Mist).]
[Unlocked: Mist Weaving (Lv 1).]
[Unlocked: The Loom (Companion access, with the Host).]
[RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE]
[Status: Thread-Bound (Spark of Divinity, Lesser). Delphic Resonance (Dormant).]
[Spark Aspect: Greenfire. Visionary. Unbound. ???]
[Unlocked: Clear Sight (Enhanced).]
[Unlocked: Mist Weaving (Lv 3). (Natural affinity.)]
[Unlocked: The Loom (Companion access, with the Host).]
[Unlocked: True Dreams (sporadic).]
[LINKED QUEST UPDATED: THOSE WHO STOOD BESIDE YOU.]
[Stage 3: Kindled. ✓]
[Title acquired: FIRE-BRINGER. (The Host has given a portion of his own divinity to mortals who chose him. Those he kindles grow as he grows.)]
Percy read the last line twice.
Those he kindles grow as he grows.
He looked at the three of them. Nancy with her hands held up in front of her face, staring at the faint amber glow still fading from her fingertips. Matt with his glasses pushed up on his forehead, scribbling in his notebook as fast as he could, trying to write down everything he was feeling. Rachel, sitting very still, looking out at the lights of the city with an expression Percy had never seen on her before.
Like she was seeing it for the first time.
Three thousand Faith. Months of work. Gone.
He'd never made a better trade in his life.
The first lesson was a disaster.
They tried it the next afternoon, in Central Park, on a bench near the boathouse. The plan was simple. Percy had picked out a mark: a big orange tabby cat that lived in the bushes near the lake and liked to sun itself on the path. The goal was to make a passing jogger see the cat as a dog.
"Don't push," Percy said, for the fifth time. "You can't force it. You have to offer it. Make it the boring option. The thing that's easier to believe than the truth."
"How is a dog more boring than a cat?" said Matt, frowning.
"It's a big orange cat," Percy said. "In Central Park. That's weird. People notice weird. A golden retriever in Central Park is the most normal thing in the world."
Matt considered this. He wrote it down.
Nancy went first. She stared at the cat. She stared so hard her face went red. Her fists were clenched at her sides. A jogger came down the path, a middle-aged guy in a headband. And Nancy shoved the Mist at him, Percy could feel it, like somebody throwing a bucket of water.
The jogger tripped over his own feet, fell flat on his face, got up, looked around wildly, said "What was that?" and ran off in the other direction very fast.
The cat was still very definitely a cat.
"Too hard," Percy said.
"I know it was too hard," Nancy snapped, red-faced.
Matt went next. He stood very still, with his eyes half-closed, thinking about it. Thinking very carefully. The next jogger came, a young woman with earbuds. And Matt's Mist came out of him in a thin, precise, careful little thread. It wrapped around the cat very neatly. And the woman glanced at the cat, and frowned, and kept running.
"Did it work?" Matt said eagerly. "What did she see?"
Percy grimaced. "I think she saw a cat-shaped dog."
"A what?"
"Like... a dog. But shaped like a cat. With a cat's face. I think you got the details wrong. You were thinking too hard about what a dog is, and not enough about what she expected to see."
Matt stared at him. Then he wrote that down too, with a slightly wounded expression.
Rachel went last.
She didn't stand up. She didn't stare at the cat. She didn't even really look at it. She just sat on the bench with her chin in her hand, looking out at the boathouse. When the next jogger came down the path, an old man with a little white dog of his own on a leash, she smiled faintly.
The old man glanced at the big orange tabby cat sunning itself on the path. His little white dog went right up to it. The two of them sniffed each other. And the old man smiled at the cat, and said, "Hello, girl. Who's a good girl?" And bent down and scratched it behind the ears, and walked on.
The cat looked extremely confused.
Nancy and Matt stared at Rachel.
"How," said Nancy, "did you do that?"
Rachel shrugged. She looked a little embarrassed.
"I just thought about how he'd want to see a dog," she said. "He's got a dog. He loves dogs. He'd rather see a dog than a cat, any day. So I just... let him."
Percy grinned.
"Natural affinity," he said.
[RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE: Mist Weaving Lv 3 → Lv 4.]
They practiced every day after that. Every afternoon after school, in the park, on the subway, in the lobby of Rachel's building, where the doorman started seeing very strange things. Nancy learned to stop pushing, slowly, one jogger at a time. Matt learned to stop thinking so hard about what things were and start thinking about what people expected. Rachel got better and better and better, until by Halloween she could walk all three of them through the Metropolitan Museum after hours and make the security guards see a cleaning crew.
And one evening, in the middle of October, Percy came home from the park and found his mother sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him.
She had two cups of hot chocolate in front of her. Blue ones. She pushed one across the table to him.
"Sit down, baby," said Sally Jackson.
Percy sat.
"I saw you," his mother said. "In the park. Yesterday. With your friends." She took a sip of her hot chocolate. "Nancy was trying to make a pigeon look like a hot dog vendor."
Percy nearly choked.
"You saw that?"
"I've always seen things, Percy," his mother said quietly. "Since I was a little girl. Monsters on the street. Things that weren't what they looked like." She looked at him over the rim of her mug. "Did you think I didn't know? Every time you came home from Yancy with your clothes torn, and some story about a dog? I knew. I just didn't know how to tell you I knew. Not without making it real."
Percy stared at her.
In his first life, he'd known his mother could see through the Mist. He'd found out late, much too late. After years of lying to her to protect her, when she'd been the one protecting him all along.
He wasn't going to do it again.
"Mom," he said. "There's a lot I haven't told you."
"I know, baby," Sally said. She reached across the table and took his hand. "So why don't you start now."
And for the second time in a month, Percy told someone almost everything.
His mother listened to all of it. The Fates. The other world. The tower. The quest, the islands, the Sparks. She didn't interrupt once. When he got to the part about the other world, about coming home from college and finding the apartment empty, about what Ezra had done, her hand tightened on his so hard it hurt. But she didn't let go.
When he finished, it was almost midnight. The hot chocolate had gone cold.
Sally Jackson sat at her kitchen table for a long time without saying anything.
Then she got up, and came around the table, and put her arms around her son. And held on.
"You came back," she whispered into his hair. "Through all of that. You came back to me."
"I'll always come back," Percy said, into her shoulder. "Always. I promise."
They stayed like that for a long time.
When she finally let him go, she wiped her eyes, and sat back down, and picked up her cold hot chocolate. She looked at him over the rim with an expression Percy knew very well. It was the look she got when she'd decided something, and nobody in the world was going to talk her out of it.
"Now," said his mother. "About this Mist business. When do I start?"
[FAITH: Sally Jackson believes in the Host. +200 Faith.]
[Note: A mother's faith carries uncommon weight.]
[Faith toward Rank C: 610 / 8,000.]