[Third Person Pov]

Beneath Lucian’s armor, his shadow writhed like a living thing, slithering beneath plates of metal and across every inch of his failing body. It curled around his torso in thick coils, wrapped itself along his arms, and slid down his legs like a second, liquid skin. Tendrils threaded between his fingers, puppeteering each small movement with eerie precision. His entire form was draped in that quivering darkness, the shadows straining to hold him upright, animating what would otherwise be a useless, collapsing body.

The group traveled across the sea with the steady groan of wood beneath their feet and the salt-laced wind tugging at their clothes. By the time they reached shore, the sky was fading into a soft orange glow, the kind that made the ocean look calm—even peaceful. They docked a little ways from the city, at a secluded stretch of worn pier where few mortals ventured. Once the ship settled, everyone immediately got to work, unloading Hylla’s and Reyna’s luggage in neat, organized piles.

“So this is where we part ways,” Thalia said, planting her hands on her hips with her usual confident smirk.

“It is,” Hylla replied, her lips tugging upward in a playful grin. “And just when we were finally able to tolerate you guys.”

Reyna nodded toward them, though her eyes lingered mostly on Clarisse. “Despite it being… well, practically torture,” she admitted with a small laugh, “thank you for training us. Even if it was only a few days, I managed to learn a lot in such a short time.”

“It’s cool,” Clarisse replied with a nonchalant fist bump, though the faint pride in her eyes betrayed her tone. “Even if you two are Roman, I had to make sure you didn’t dishonor what it means to be Daughters of War.”

Reyna smiled—genuinely. Over the past days she had grown to respect, even admire, Clarisse more than she expected. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint.”

“This is such a beautiful sisterhood moment,” Lucian declared dramatically, placing a hand over his mouth as if deeply moved. He leaned lazily against the side of the ship, and Percy—standing beside him—couldn’t stop his quiet chuckling.

Annabeth stepped forward then, brushing some hair from her face. “Alright,” she said, “I called the Grey Sisters’ taxi service. They’ll be here any second.”

As they waited, Lucian could feel Percy’s eyes flicking toward him every few seconds—sharp, measuring, and increasingly worried.

“What?” Lucian asked flatly without looking over.

“Nothing…” Percy muttered. “Just that you’re not looking so great.”

“Your deductive capabilities truly astonish me sometimes, you know that?” Lucian replied with a dry, unimpressed drawl.

Percy rolled his eyes. “I mean you’re worse than before.”

“Yes, that’s how dying normally works…” Lucian said. His lips twitched at the completely unimpressed stare Percy shot back.

Percy let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head before giving Lucian a firm pat on the shoulder. “I’m just worried about you, man. That’s all.”

Under the helmet, Lucian’s expression softened. “So your way of showing concern is by stating the obvious?”

“I seriously hate you sometimes,” Percy grumbled, turning away with an annoyed grunt. Lucian snorted.

Before anyone could respond, a low rumble shook the ground. Everyone tensed, turning toward the source of the noise. A massive cloud of dust rolled toward them, obscuring everything. Thalia raised a hand and summoned a gust of wind that blasted the debris away, revealing the Grey Sisters’ btaxi screeching to a halt—its three elderly drivers grinning with only one teeth between them.

“Ya called!” the sisters cackled in perfect, chaotic unison.

After a brief round of bargaining, complaining, Percy and Tyson started helping Hylla and Reyna load their luggage into the taxi.

“Thank you, Percy…” both sisters said almost simultaneously, batting their eyelashes at him in a way that felt suspiciously synchronized.

Percy flashed them a grin that was just a little too charming for Clarisse’s comfort.

“…Okay what the actual fuck,” Lucian muttered, openly staring at the scene like someone watching a car crash.

Annabeth and Thalia barely held in their laughter. Tyson, meanwhile, pointed at himself with confusion and said, “…I helped too.”

Lucian patted Tyson on the back supportively. “I know you did, buddy. I know you did.”

Clarisse’s jaw tightened visibly as she shot Hylla and Reyna a pointed warning glare. Hylla responded with a bashful chuckle, while Reyna rubbed the back of her neck with a shy smile before the two hurried into the taxi, clearly eager to avoid provoking Clarisse’s wrath any further.

As the taxi rattled away in a cloud of dust and bickering voices, Percy stared after it, then turned to Clarisse with genuine confusion.

“So… what do you think that was all about?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Clarisse snapped, crossing her arms. “You put me in a bad mood.”

“What did I even do?!” Percy demanded, throwing his hands up like someone begging the gods for answers. He looked around at the others, hoping for backup, but all he got were amused head shakes and shrugs. Even Annabeth refused to make eye contact, biting her cheek in an attempt not to laugh.

They started heading back toward the ship, boots thudding softly on the wooden dock. Percy walked in silence for a moment—then stopped dead.

“Guys…” His voice shifted—no joking, no theatrics. Just raw, tight concern.

Everyone halted immediately, turning toward him.

Percy swallowed hard. “It’s Grover… He’s in danger. We need to get to him now.” His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white.

Clarisse’s expression dropped. “We won’t make it in time. Because of that stupid detour we’re days away.”

“It’s fine,” Lucian said suddenly, limping forward with slow, deliberate steps. His posture was hunched, each movement stiff. “We’ll make it in a few minutes.”

He exhaled sharply. “Nox, Nebula—come. I’ll need your help.”

Two silhouettes peeled themselves from Annabeth’s shadow. They stepped forward, bowing their heads.

“Father,” they greeted in unison.

Lucian nodded. “I’ll be quick. I’m teleporting the entire ship through the Shadow Realm. I’ll handle the passage, but—” he gestured at the two— “Nox will help me steer through the dark currents. Nebula will keep us concealed from anything lurking in there.”

In an instant, Nox and Nebula shifted into their humanoid forms—tall, elegant, unnervingly ethereal.

Lucian waved everyone toward the ship. “Get on. Quickly.”

As they climbed the ramp, Clarisse muttered from behind him, her irritation spiking again. “You know, if you could’ve done this from the beginning… why didn’t you?”

Lucian paused, blinked slowly, and looked over his shoulder with pure confusion. “Where would the fun be in that?”

Clarisse glared so hard her eye might’ve twitched. “You’re lucky you’ve already got one foot in the grave or I’d sock you for that bullshit.”

Inside the ship, everyone gathered toward the center, gripping whatever they could as the air grew colder, heavier. Lucian and Nox stood side by side—their shadows expanding beneath their feet like twin ink pools. Then the shadows surged outward, crawling over the planks, the walls, the masts—devouring every inch of the vessel in a swallowing tide of darkness.

The ship groaned as it began sinking—not into water, but into blackness. Nebula raised her hands, her presence spreading like quiet, shimmering static, cloaking them in perfect concealment.

Lucian’s body trembled. His breathing grew shallow. His lips split slightly under the pressure of his own teeth. His eyes stayed tightly shut as he fought to remain upright; without sheer force of will, he would collapse like a puppet with its strings cut.

Everyone watched with wide eyes. They’d been through the Shadow Realm before, sure—but never inside the safety of a ship, never enveloped so completely in darkness that even the concept of direction evaporated.

For several long moments, there was only that void—the soundless, weightless drift through Lucian’s domain.

…

Out in the open sea, under the cover of night, the water suddenly began swirling. Shadows spiraled upward, forming a vortex in the middle of the waves. From that churning black column, the ship burst upward with a violent whoosh, breaking through the surface like a breaching leviathan.

It crashed down hard, sending a massive splash radiating in all directions. Water sprayed over the deck as the ship rocked violently side to side.

Lucian stumbled forward, the last of his strength leaving him—but Sébastien appeared instantly, catching him before he hit the floor.

“Lucian…” they whispered, fear threaded through their voice.

Lucian’s fingers twitched before curling weakly around the reins. He forced his back straight, every inch of it trembling.

“Let’s go find Grover…” he said softly.

…

In mere moments, they arrived at Monster Island—the land of cyclopes, infamous and foreboding especially during the night. The shores crackled with ambient magic, thick enough to taste in the air.

“Can everyone feel that?” Annabeth exhaled shakily.

They all nodded. A wave of warmth—rejuvenation, almost divine—washed over them.

“The Golden Fleece,” Thalia murmured, inhaling deeply as if the island itself had exhaled life into her. “We’ve arrived…”

“But I can’t see it anywhere,” Percy muttered, eyes sweeping across the dark, tangled forest ahead.

“It’s close,” Thalia said softly. She glanced back at Lucian—and froze. “Hang in there, Lucian…”

His head hung forward, chin nearly touching his chest. His hands rested limply on the reins, barely gripping them.

“Hm…” Lucian hummed, but the sound was hollow—drained of everything.

His vision blurred into a murky haze. His mind drifted like it was underwater. His body felt distant, foreign—more shadow than flesh. His only focus, the only thing keeping him upright, was sheer stubborn instinct.

Thalia’s voice became a muffled echo.

Then… nothing.

A piercing ring filled his ears, sharp and relentless, like a swarm of hornets trapped in his skull. It grew louder and louder—until suddenly, violently, it vanished.

Silence. Total, suffocating silence.

Lucian couldn’t hear anything anymore. Not the wind, not the trees, not his friends calling his name.

Still, they pressed onward, urgency forcing them deeper into the island. The ground shook occasionally beneath massive footsteps far away. Time was slipping through their fingers.

Lucian’s sight dimmed further. Patches of darkness spread across his vision like ink spills. The world fragmented, swallowed piece by piece until—

Nothing.

He was blind.

Everyone began to glance at him—then stare. Horror crept into their expressions as Lucian’s body swayed in that unnatural, puppet-like way.

And then… he started humming.

A soft, broken hum, the ghost of a song.

“Yohohoho… Yohohoho… Yohohoho… Yohohoho…~”

Thalia’s heart plummeted. Her hands trembled. “Lucian… Don’t you dare do this to me.”

His voice wavered, thin, cracked, and barely above a whisper.

“Gather up all of the crew, It’s time to ship out Bink’s brew… Wave goodbye, but don’t you cry… Our memories remain…”

The others slowed, unease turning to dread.

“Our days are but a passing dream… Everlasting though they seem…” Lucian continued softly, staring into a darkness only he could see. “Beneath the moon we’ll meet again… The winds our lullaby…~”

“Lucian… stop it,” Annabeth snapped, but even her anger cracked, her voice breaking. “Please… just stop…”

“Gather up all of the crew… It’s time to ship out Bink’s brew… Sing a song and play along… For all the ocean’s wide!”

“Let’s spread out—search for the Fleece!” Percy blurted, panic rising in his chest. He didn’t know why, but his eyes stung with tears. Something about the song… something about Lucian’s voice… felt final.

All of Annabeth’s spirits rushed out from her in a shimmering wave, surrounding Lucian with tearful expressions.

“Father…” they whispered, reaching toward him with trembling hands. They were all sniffling and crying.

Lucian continued, unaware of their pleas.

“After all is said and done… You’ll end up a skeleton… So spread your tale from dawn ’til dusk… Upon these foamy seas…”

The reins slipped from his fingers.

Everyone froze.

Lucian tilted sideways, his body losing all strength.

He toppled off Sébastien.

At the same moment, his armor—once solid and imposing—began to break apart into drifting fragments of black mist.

His body hit the ground with a dull, final thud.

Sébastien reared back with a mournful, agonized neigh that echoed through the island. His hooves clawed at the sky, desperate and grieving—before he too dissolved into wisps of shadow.

“LUCIAN!!!”

They all screamed, rushing toward him. Tears blurred their sight as panic and heartbreak slammed into them.

Lucian lay on the cold earth, staring up at the night sky. His hair spread around him in disordered strands. His eyes were dim—empty. Black veins crawled over his neck, stretching across his face like dying roots.

Still, he sang—quietly, faintly, a whisper carried by the wind.

“Yohohoho… Yohohoho… Yohohoho… Yohohoho…~”

His voice faded with each note.

His head rolled weakly to the side.

Then he went completely still.

No breath.

No heartbeat.

No movement.

Lucian was dead.

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