[Third Person’s PoV]

Annabeth turned to look towards Lucian, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Make sure to catch me, alright?” she said in a light, teasing tone.

Lucian gave her a deadpan look. “I’ll be sure to let you fall face-first for that comment you just made.”

“You say that, but you wouldn’t dare. You love me too much,” she replied confidently, tossing her hair back. Then she clapped her hands together, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Anyways, make way. Time for Mama to bring forth her new children.”

Lucian and Thalia instinctively stepped back, their expressions sobering despite the teasing. They’d seen this process before—seen how much it took from her. Still, it never stopped being breathtaking.

Annabeth closed her eyes and lifted her arms. Her wavy blonde hair rose, suspended as if underwater, while a luminous silver aura encircled her. The magic circle on the floor, painted with painstaking precision in celestial ink and alchemical blood, burst into light—casting crimson hues that danced like fire across the walls of the dark chamber.

Her voice rang out in ancient Greek, lyrical and powerful. Her hands moved like a conductor’s, directing the magic with fluidity and precision. The circle responded. A low hum filled the room, vibrating the very air.

Suddenly, a discharge of raw magical energy crackled outward.

From the center of the circle, the pool of Celestial Bronze shimmered and trembled before lifting into the air, gravity forgotten. The liquid metal twisted and bent in impossible ways, flickering like mercury touched by divine fire.

Alongside it, the violet sphere pulsed violently before erupting in a sudden, silent explosion of thick, creeping mist. It hovered, almost aware, like it was tasting the air around it.

The glyphs around the circle lit up and began to rise, slowly spinning and aligning themselves like pieces of a puzzle. At Annabeth’s commanding gesture, they shot forward—like arrows with purpose—toward the materials.

The runes clashed with the Celestial Bronze, but instead of resistance, the metal drank them in greedily. It rippled and roared silently as it consumed the symbols, shaping and reshaping itself midair.

And then it began to morph.

First into a sword, then a serpent, then something more refined—a golden owl. Its form was unstable, constantly shifting into different avian creatures, but it always returned to the owl—its wings wide, eyes hollow and glowing faintly with alchemical fire. The aura around it was regal and ancient, like it remembered wisdom it had yet to speak.

Meanwhile, the purple mist churned violently as it absorbed the glyphs hurled toward it. From within the smoke, a shape began to form—a humanoid silhouette, then another, and another.

Its body twisted with fluid instability, first taking on Annabeth’s form—eyes sharp, posture poised—then shifting seamlessly into Lucian, exuding cool detachment and restrained power. Seconds later, it melted into Thalia’s image, fierce and electric, a glint of storm-like energy radiating off it. The being had no permanent face, no stable identity. It was an echo of those it observed, shifting endlessly in a disturbing, yet fascinating dance.

Blood suddenly trickled from Annabeth’s nose, then her eyes, but she didn’t falter. She gritted her teeth and poured more of herself into the ritual—her spiritual energy lashing out like threads weaving reality itself. Her legs trembled, but her arms never lowered. The room pulsed with power, the air thick with tension, the very foundations of the space groaning beneath the weight of what she was creating.

The two Homunculi hovered in the air, bound to the runes, shaped by the magic, tethered to Annabeth’s will—one a golden, ever-morphing owl of liquid metal, and the other a living mist of identity and uncertainty.

The ritual was finally completed.

Her children were awake.

But Annabeth wasn’t, not anymore.

As the Homunculi finished taking shape, Lucian emerged from the shadows and appeared beside Annabeth just as her body gave out—like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

He caught her by the waist as she wheezed with each shallow breath. “I knew… you would… catch me~” Annabeth murmured, her voice barely a whisper as darkness overcame her and she lost consciousness.

Lucian grimaced and closed his eyes with a sigh. Gently, he lifted her in a princess carry and lowered her to the ground.

“Father… should I…?” Lucerna asked, materializing behind him and glancing down at Annabeth with concern.

“You might as well try. I’ll start feeding her the potions…” Lucian replied, dipping his hand into the shadow at his side.

Together, Lucian and Lucerna worked quickly, doing everything they could to stabilize Annabeth.

“Let me help too. I have a healing ability,” Thalia said, kneeling beside them. She hovered her hand over Annabeth and activated her [Wind Healing].

With the combined effort of three powerful beings, Annabeth recovered far sooner than expected—waking just thirty minutes later.

“Ow…” she groaned, clutching her forehead. “I have a migraine… Thank the gods I never have to do that again. Four kids is enough for me.”

She paused, then turned to Lucian with a teasing grin. “Artificially made, that is of course~ If you catch my drift.”

Lucian gave her a deadpan stare, clearly refusing to indulge her.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself,” she chuckled, pushing herself off the ground.

After brushing herself off, she turned to the Homunculi still inside the magic circle, who looked at her with concern. She smiled reassuringly.

“I’m sorry for worrying you all. Now, it’s time I give each of you your names.”

She turned to the golden-brown owl and extended her arm. Understanding her intent, the owl flew over and perched gracefully.

“I’ll name you Aerarius,” Annabeth said proudly.

“I thank you, Great Mother, for bestowing upon me a name. I am eternally grateful,” the owl spoke in a deep, refined tone with a metallic rasp.

“…Are you deadass?” Lucian raised a brow.

“What? I think it sounds cool,” Thalia chimed in, genuinely confused by his reaction.

“She named him bronze,” Lucian sighed. “Aerarius is Latin for something made of bronze.”

“Seriously?” Thalia asked, more amused than surprised.

Annabeth ignored them, turning to her other creation. With a confident smile, she declared, “You shall be known as Nebula!”

Slap!

Thalia turned to Lucian, catching him mid-facepalm. She smirked, barely containing her laughter.

“Let me guess—Nebula is Latin for mist?”

Lucian nodded. “Fog, mist, cloudy… you get the idea.”

Thalia burst into laughter, shaking her head.

The mistborn Homunculi bowed, its voice a layered echo. “I also give my thanks to the Great Mother.”

Annabeth rubbed her nose smugly. “Heh.”

She turned to Nebula and said, “There is really no need to test your abilities. Your powers are all mist-based: illusions, item creation, obstruction, transmutation, memory manipulation… You’ll be very helpful.”

Nebula transformed into a perfect copy of Annabeth, puffing out their chest with pride.

“Now you—you’re the one I’m excited to test out,” Annabeth said, grinning. She closed her eyes, forming a [Psychic Link] through her potion ability to share thoughts and memories instantly.

The golden owl leapt from her arm, morphing into a liquid metal sphere. It floated to her outstretched hand and transformed into a sleek, long spear.

She twirled it around her like a blur, then shifted it into a two-handed longsword. She slashed the air, wind trailing each swing.

Letting go, the sword split into spinning blades that hovered protectively around her.

With a thought, the blades shot forward, then halted mid-air with a sharp screech.

They returned like missiles—only to melt harmlessly against her skin, coating her in golden liquid metal that hardened into a radiant suit of Greek armor.

The metal flowed smoothly, forming a Breastplate, Pauldron, Rerebrace, Couter, Vambrace, Faulds, Cuisses, Greaves, Poleyn, and Sabatons—encasing her from head to toe in a snug, form-fitting design.

A helmet slid into place over her head. Then, with a metallic burst, two golden wings spread from her back.

Annabeth’s grin widened as she caught sight of Lucian and Thalia’s stunned expressions.

“I tied it to my magic,” she explained. “The more I pump into it, the more liquid metal I can create and control—but it does eat up a ton of magic.”

She twirled once and posed. “Be honest—how do I look?”

“…Like a Valkyrie,” Lucian muttered in awe.

Annabeth blushed, giggling. “I am so in love with this thing—you have no idea.”

“…Should I destroy it?” Lucian muttered under his breath.

Thalia turned to him slowly, giving him a long, confused stare before shaking her head in disbelief.

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