The seats were filling quickly. A hush fell as Plutus took the stage, arms spread.
He welcomed the crowd and began the event.
The first items passed without interest: a preserved apple from the Garden of the Hesperides, a golden drachma minted in Chronos' reign, a spear once wielded by an Amazon queen.
Then came the final item.
The Chains of Prometheus.
Forged from divine ore. Used to bind a Titan. Glowing faintly with old, painful magic, dried blood crusting among the chain links.
Bidding began. The numbers rose.
Lucas leaned toward Luke. "Why aren't you bidding?"
Thalia frowned. "Luke?"
Luke shifted, looking equally ashamed and frustrated. "We don't have the funds. Olympus didn't give us any."
Lucas blinked. "They sent us on a quest but gave us no drachmas?"
"They assumed the chains would be handed over."
The final bid was called. A hooded figure at the back raised a single hand. The room fell silent.
"Sold," Plutus declared, turning to face the trio and giving them a taunting smirk.
The trio watched as the figure stood and walked toward the stage. One gloved hand reached out, stroking the chains like greeting an old friend.
Lucas narrowed his eyes seeing this strange reaction.
Thalia stepped forward. "The gods want those chains returned."
The hooded man turned slightly.
"I don't care. They belong to me."
He walked away, the chains held close.
...
They walked back to the SUV without speaking.
The streets of Las Vegas buzzed with neon and noise, oblivious to their failure. Cars passed. Music thumped from distant clubs. But none of it mattered. The Chains of Prometheus were gone, sold to a hooded figure whose name they didn't even know. A relic Olympus demanded had slipped through their fingers.
Luke drove. Hands tight on the wheel, jaw clenched.
Lucas broke the silence. "It seems the name of the gods is worth less than gold."
Thalia snorted but didn't reply.
Luke let out a dry laugh, humorless. "First quest. And I blew it."
"You didn't blow it," Thalia muttered.
"We didn't get the chains. That was the quest."
No one argued after that.
...
The week-long drive back was slow and quiet.
They took turns at the wheel. Stopped for gas and food. But most of the trip was spent in silence. Thalia brooded in the backseat, arms crossed. Luke was distant, his usual confidence dulled. Lucas stared out the window, watching the road stretch endlessly ahead.
...
Camp Half-Blood came into view just after noon on the seventh day.
As they passed through the border, conversation died completely. A few campers spotted them, pausing mid-laugh. Voices dropped. Conversations faded. Eyes followed them. They soon made their way to the Big House.
On the porch, Chiron and Mr. D sat at their usual pinochle table. Cards in hand. Chiron looked up the moment they appeared. Mr. D didn't look up.
"You're back," Chiron said.
Luke stepped forward. "We didn't get the chains."
Chiron nodded slowly, setting his cards down. "Tell me."
They recounted the events. Their journey. Rainbow Organic. The auction. Caesar's Palace. Plutus. And the hooded buyer.
Chiron remained quiet throughout, only frowning slightly at the mention of Lycaon. But when they finished, and silence returned, it was Mr. D who finally spoke.
"It doesn't matter."
Luke turned sharply. "Excuse me?"
Mr. D sipped his drink, eyes still on the cards. "Olympus gave you a task. You failed. That's all they care about."
"We weren't given drachmas. We weren't told we'd have to buy the chains, to just collect it"
Mr. D shrugged. "The gods don't pay for things. You didn't acquire the chains, you are to blame."
"That's not fair."
Mr. D looked at Luke then. Just once.
"It's Olympus. Fair has nothing to do with it."
He returned to his game.
Lucas watched the exchange, silent. But as Mr. D turned back to the table, Lucas caught it, a flicker of something in his eyes. Pity. Real. Brief. Then hidden once more behind the usual look of apathy and indifference.
Chiron rose. "Go rest. All of you. You've done what you could."
They stepped outside. The air was cooler now, the camp quiet.
Annabeth was waiting near the steps.
She ran to them. No words. Just wrapped her arms around all three.
"I don't care what Olympus says," she whispered. "You did your best. That's all that matters."
Thalia hugged her back without hesitation. Luke ruffled her hair, managing a tired smile.
Lucas gave a soft nod.
...
That night, Lucas sat in his tent, the lights dimmed, Harold asleep at his side.
He thought back to his childhood, sitting in the study while his father worked. He used to pull books down from the shelves, reading about the gods and their myths. Maybe the stories were embellished, but even then, something had always seemed... off. Glorious tales masking something colder beneath.
Reflecting on all he had seen during his travels; his time at camp, the stories of those he'd met, the losses of his friends, the attitude from Olympus; he realized his future under their rule would never be what he hoped.
He had met a few good Olympians. Understood that some tried, really tried, even in a broken system. But others? Others just added to the rot.
It didn't give him a good opinion of them, of his future underneath their rule.