Wise men argue causes; fools decide them. - Anacharsis

"The Council agrees," Zeus said. "Percy Jackson, you will become a god."

"Um … what?"

Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes, I shall make you a god."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time. And I will have to put up with you forever."

"Wait-"

"Hmm," Ares mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea."

"I approve as well," Athena said, though she was distracted by the crowd.

"Enough. It has been decided. Prepare yourself, Percy Jackson! Mortals, shield your eyes!"

Zeus raised his right hand into the air, crushing a golden apple in his fist. A corona of light flared before the radiance pulled back in, descending upon the Hero of Olympus.

Percy vanished.

At every plane of existence—his physical presence, his life force, his soul signature, all so vibrant and powerful and bright—he'd disappeared.

Artemis blinked. Last she checked, that wasn't how deification worked. Which raised the question—

"Where did he go?" Zeus rumbled. The surviving demigods, the nature spirits and satyrs, the army of Cyclopes, even the other gods themselves—none dared speak. Zeus turned to Poseidon, an accusation pouring forth from his lips. "Is this your doing, brother?"

"Don't be so quick to blame me!" Poseidon shot back, equally bewildered. "Why would I have a part in this?"

Artemis agreed with Poseidon. Her father, as usual, was acting rash. What did Poseidon have to gain from Percy's disappearance? Absolutely nothing. What he was losing was another lieutenant, a hero amongst heroes, joining him beside his throne. After all, Percy was more of a hero than the backwater brute Heracles or the drunkard Dionysus.

If Percy's ascension into godhood had truly taken, he had the potential of an Olympian. A new player in the conflicts between gods.

He had clearly been deserving of immortality. What else to award the hero that defeated the Lord of Time himself? Though Percy had certainly been dumbfounded by the declaration, given his articulate response as he faced eternity itself.

Not that he had much time to contemplate.

"Then who?" Zeus thundered. Sparks flew off the Master Bolt seized in his hand. "Who would dare steal him away as I bestow the highest honor upon him! To interrupt the rarest ceremony of all? This insult will not stand!"

Put in that context, Artemis understood her father's anger better. To disrupt Zeus's right as host, first among equals? Still, she felt part of it was Zeus's fault. Artemis hated ceremony—all her Hunters had to do was swear an oath, and then they were basically immortal. Zeus, on the other hand? Honestly, Percy could have simply eaten the apple. Then there wouldn't have been any light show, and they could have seen what had happened. But no, her father had to be theatrical.

"Brother …"

That voice … it was Hestia. She was as she always was, in the form of a young girl tending the flame with a stick in the center of the throne room. She hadn't spoken during a council in decades. As the most tempered of all the gods, the former Olympian only spoke when she felt absolutely necessary, as a voice of reason that all deferred to.

Even the King of the Gods.

Zeus settled back into his throne and looked down at Hestia, who continued stoking the hearth. "Yes, sister?"

"I would first advise discretion." Without turning, Hestia motioned over her shoulder with her stick, clearly referring to the hundred-some assorted beings behind her.

"Those not of the council, leave!" There was a murmuring of protest until Zeus stood and glowered at the audience, Master Bolt in hand. "Begone!"

Artemis waved Thalia away, her eyes stern and brooking no argument. It would not do to risk her father's anger at this point in time. That was how she remained his favorite child—staying out of the way when Zeus was on warpath.

With everyone departed, Zeus lowered himself back onto his throne. "Continue."

"As the eldest, I was in our father's gut the longest. Thus, it is perhaps I who am the most attuned to our father's powers." Looking up, the tiny goddess flared her wrist.

A wave of opaque energy swept through the room, revealing golden specks of dust that hung in the air, few and far between. Nearing the hearth itself, the gold collected into rings of intertwining bands. They encircled the place the space Percy had stood—except what replaced him was the fragmented shell of a sphere, also made of the golden dust. The pieces shifted and twisted, sending a nauseating light rippling across its surface.

"That was easier than expected." Hestia stopped stoking the flames and stood up, inspecting the gold. She poked at to the nearest stream hanging in the air, which undulated gently in response. "It was not invisible, or at least not just invisible. It was not fully there to begin with, though pulling on what was drew out the rest."

"This is father's essence," Hades asserted. "But his defeat blasted him out across the atmosphere."

Hephaestus grunted in agreement. "He's so far spread that even I couldn't build something to put him back together."

"Yet this substance here is clearly vestiges of him, imbued with his power," Hestia argued.

Zeus leaned forward, reaching out. A wind swept through the throne room, trying to pull and gather Kronos's remains in his hand—yet the golden threads of dust remained unmoved, still swelling to its own beat. He scoffed, before settling back to merely analyze the more sparse dust that hung close to him. "Then I presume you believe it is this which is responsible for our hero's disappearance."

Hestia nodded. "Of course, there are other possibilities. However, Poseidon would not have snuck him away to the seas. So unless he has been somehow died or been sent to the Underworld, which I doubt"—she glanced at Hades gave her a dissatisfied glower—"then that only leaves us with this substance."

"But that would suggest … time," Athena said, eyes wide with the implication. "It would suggest that our missing hero is not in a different place, but a different time. Time travel is absurd, but under these circumstances, what other else could it be?"

Hestia remained level-headed. "Perhaps Poseidon can still sense his son and tell us more?"

Poseidon focused intently on the golden sphere. "If I reach out, I can sense Percy through those sands, exactly as he was. It's fading even now, becoming more and more distant." The sea god frowned, disgruntled by something no one else could sense. "There's almost something more within, unlike anything I've ever encountered—a great divide, a distance that is not distance, which could very well be because Percy is in history."

"But Kronos's essence was dispersed. How was it gathered?" Zeus asked.

"Father's remains lack his will," Hera proposed. "Perhaps, while granting Percy godhood, the collection of divine energies also attracted the divine energy of Father to him. It would explain the timing."

"So I unintentionally triggered the hero's disappearance, sending him through time," Zeus said. "Time travel … what a terrifying concept. Does this mean Father could time travel? Surely not—if he could, I fear we would never have been able to defeat him."

"How very droll," Hades snarked. "What of it? This powder left of Father—there's not enough of him in the air to form even his toe. Let's focus on more important things."

"Like how we find my son!" Poseidon said. "What we are to do? How do we follow and save him?"

"Why bother?" Dionysus languished on his throne, clearly bored by the discussion. "He'll be fine."

"So we can drag him back and gut him up for the trouble he's causing!" Ares said, twirling his knife along and through his fingers. Poseidon cleared his throat loudly, which did little to curb the war god's enthusiasm. "What? He's immortal now, right? He can survive the beating."

"And if he's immortal, then he can return to this time by himself," Hades said, rolling his eyes. "The long way."

"But then my son would be here," Poseidon said. "Or we would have memories of him. Something's not right. We must go back and find him!"

"About that …" Hermes interrupted, even as his caduceus beeped haywire with messages left forgotten in lieu of the more important matter. "As this is my dominion, and taking a look for myself, I can see an entrance of sorts. Forcing our own being through the essence would allow us to begin on the path back through in time. Though, just a hunch—I don't think there's enough power to send more than one of us. It's already breaking apart."

"Why, that sounds like a job for our Huntress." Aphrodite smiled at Artemis, completely unfazed by her answering glare. Nothing was wrong with what she said, but Artemis wished she could shoot at the love goddess for her simpering, ingratiating tone. She ignored the worried glance her twin gave her—honestly, get ambushed and chained up and Apollo got overprotective for a century.

What was she to say? She had had nothing to contribute, leaving others to puzzle out what happened. But now the spotlight was on her. Artemis looked at the cause of all their trouble. Was Hermes correct in his assumption? Regardless …

"It certainly astounds me that Percy, unintentionally or not, managed to travel through time using this dust," Artemis finally said. "Now that Hermes has pointed out a way through, I see it also. However, I would need to access my Uncle's connection to Percy to make such a venture feasible."

"Why?" asked Poseidon suspiciously. Artemis couldn't blame him; it was an extremely intrusive request. The bonds gods held with their children were private, almost sacred.

"While I have yet to track someone through time, I am best suited for the job. But to search through all time for Percy? To call it extremely difficult would be an understatement. A connection with him would increase the odds of success from nigh impossible to improbable."

"I will not share my son." Poseidon blustered. "I will go myself to find him, then!" He rose from his throne, ready to depart and chase after Percy.

"Sit down, Poseidon," Athena said, eyes on her rival. "Do you truly believe you will do better hunting Percy than our Huntress?" When Poseidon opened his mouth to respond, Athena interrupted him. "The answer should be no, you won't."

Poseidon hesitated, contemplating Athena's words. The wisdom goddess, sensing weakness, continued. "Sharing your bond with Artemis is a trifling matter at best. Are you too attached to give up your best chance of your son's return? We are running out of time. I agree with Hermes, only one can follow Percy into the past. Look, now—Kronos's essence is dispersing once more. If we are to find our hero, we should act quickly."

Athena spoke correctly. It wasn't obvious, but the gold dust was slowly drifting apart, the layers of dust losing coherence and shape.

"We have little time left to lose," Athena said. "And given what happened to our hero, I would not recommend that Father attempt to recollect Kronos's remains. It would not be wise to risk causing anything unprecedented again. So, Poseidon,"—she pronounced his name with the sweetness that came with victory—"if you would."

Artemis looked to Poseidon, who already had his eyes set on her. How inanely tense he looked, concerned about his child and weighing his options. Was he perhaps worried about how she would treat Percy? The entire matter might have been a mess from the very beginning, but she wouldn't take out any of her frustration on Percy when she found him. Well, perhaps a harmless temporary transformation for the trouble, if she still could. Some time as a jackrabbit could serve him well. Though, if anything, though, Artemis felt grateful to Percy.

After all, he was giving her the opportunity for something new: a truly unique Hunt, a Hunt of magnitudes and trials and experiences unlike any before. A chase through time itself—an adventure of grand, unknown proportions. Despite her exhaustion, Artemis couldn't wait to begin.

With a defeated sigh, Poseidon made his decision. He lifted his trident, which glowed the same vibrant sea-green as Percy's eyes. The light flowed up to the tips before firing at her, striking Artemis in the chest and sending a wave of cold through her.

Forging connections were nothing new. While she did not have children like the others, her bond with her Hunters was similar. But this one was a novelty—the flavor of this bond was different. While her connection with her followers felt like that of an alpha with its pack, this new bond felt like the tide with the moon. The spiritual essence of the hero Percy Jackson ebbed and flowed from the gold sphere, dissipating into ripples. It was absurdly fitting. Diffused through time as it was, the bond felt distant, vague, chaotic, with terrible unknown depths.

Utterly alien.

It felt weaker than any single one of her Hunters and continued to degrade even as she examined it. That more than anything convinced here there wasn't much time left. It was still clear enough to follow—Percy was just there, somewhere within the amalgamation of Kronos's power before her. But the path, and therefore the bond, was fizzling out.

"Well, since Peter Johnson ruined the party …" Dionysus snatched a can Diet Coke from nothing, and with a pop of the tab, he teleported away.

His presumptive departure signaled the end of the council. Those who cared least of all left immediately: Hephaestus, grumbling, flaming back to his forge; Demeter dissolving into grains. In moments, only Zeus, Poseidon, Hestia, and Apollo remained with Artemis.

"Artemis must go," Hestia said. She stuck her hand into the dust, which sifted through her fingers as they continued circling. The weaving bands of essence were slowing, losing cohesion, and the glow of golden light dimmed. "We should not risk losing the path any further."

The moon goddess descended from her throne, shrinking down in size in a shift of moonlight until she looked like a teenager. Artemis approached the outer rings of gold.

Sunlight flashed before her. "Arty-"

"Don't," she cut off her brother abruptly. He'd shrunk down in tandem as he teleported in front of her, meeting her face to face. "It will be difficult enough to understand and traverse this path. We all have our duties. Do not distract me from mine."

"But sis-"

"Enough." Artemis closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I agree that this is hasty, but if the trail fades, then there is no time." Ironically. "I cannot stay for even for a moment longer if I am to have every advantage in finding Percy, even if I sorely wish I could say my own goodbyes to my Hunters."

Artemis sighed, hoping she would not regret her decision. "I know not of when I will return, whether it be in but a moment or far greater, so I ask you to send my Hunt to Camp Half Blood. If I am not back by a month, tell them they are free to hunt on their own."

"Arty …" Apollo tried again, voice quiet and resigned.

This time, she said nothing. He had already folded. With a quiet "good luck" and a hug, Apollo left. A touching sentiment from her immature little brother.

She turned to Zeus, who simply met her gaze and nodded solemnly. "You know what to do."

Artemis bowed her head, and Zeus vanished in a resounding crack of thunder. It was not surprising that was all he had to say. He had always been hands-off. After all, the Hunt was best left to her.

As for her uncle …

"Bring him back, Artemis," Poseidon said, a soft request rather than a demand. "I fear for the times to come. The things I have seen … I worry this is not the end of our troubles."

"I will do my best," Artemis replied. Delays, delays. "As I have always done."

They studied each other silently, before her uncle sighed, looking older than Artemis could ever remember. "I must talk with his mother."

And then he too blew away in a sea breeze, leaving her with only Hestia. Her aunt had at some point returned to her hearth, eyes of flame trained on the fire, stoking it as if she'd never left it to begin with. Artemis was certain, though, that she was still paying attention.

Artemis stepped through a band of golden dust, shivering at the wispy touch as she let it pass around her before crossing a few more. Soon, she stood before the sphere itself, surrounded by streams of the golden sands of time. Artemis reached out to touch the core itself, senses extended to search for the path within.

Suddenly, Hestia was beside her, hand on her wrist as if to prevent her from leaving, or to guide her. Her eyes blazed indecipherable, vast and unknown. "This experience will change you." her aunt said, voice hushed and distant. "You will not belong—you will have to experience the sensation yourself. You have the fortitude of self and intent to survive, to press on … but be prepared."

"What do you know?" asked Artemis, eyes narrowed. She pulled her arm free, which Hestia let go of without comment. "What are you hiding?"

New information, right before her departure? Information that Hestia had no right to know?

"Not enough," Hestia said, looking to the golden sphere, shoulders slumped and weary. "Memories half-remembered, of a different time." Then her face hardened, looking far too adult and dangerous for a child. "But you must go. It must be as Percy did—yearn to cross, send yourself and your power into what remains, to where you sense him. You will … you will have to find where, when, to land through the connection. Do not lose it."

Hestia stepped back into the hearth, disappearing into the crackling flames before Artemis could ask any more questions. One questioned burned more prominently than any other.

What did you mean by 'It must be as Percy did?'

But Hestia was gone. Artemis was alone in the vast throne room.

How had it come to this? It had been a mere hour since she'd emptied her quiver for some thousandth time into Typhon's eye, a single hour since Percy had defeated Kronos. Her body still ached from riding her chariot for a week straight. But that was the way of things.

The sun was rising—the advent of a new day, a new start.

It was the beginning of a hunt, pure and simple.

The predator: the Huntress. The environment: time. And the prey: Percy Jackson.

Despite her exhaustion, adrenaline rushed through Artemis, her heart pumping sheer elation through her veins. But that wouldn't do.

With a breath, the goddess of the moon and hunt composed herself, drawing her energies together. She shone with the radiance of a goddess. Of an Olympian.

Artemis closed her eyes, focusing on sending herself into and through the dust. Percy, wherever, whenever he was, she was getting closer. Then her soul warped, yanked along by temporal forces as she imploded, her physical body disappearing and her nerves and ichor screamed in agony. Her spiritual essence was torn in directions she couldn't explain, that there weren't names for. Resisting the urge to turn back—wherever, whenever back was—she pressed on towards Percy's soul. Artemis held desperately onto that connection with Percy, of making it to him. She plunged on recklessly, through the time stream she could not open her eyes to see or reach out to feel, for there was nowhere, nowhen else to go.

She would find him.