Lucas sat quietly at the edge of the woods, the morning sun breaking through the trees in muted shafts of light.
He reflected on what he saw last night at the crossroads.
Four futures. Four roads.
And yet he chose none.
The Fool did not walk a path given. He made his own.
Lucas closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. The decision was made. He would take the potion for sequence six.
Footsteps crunched behind him. He turned to see Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth approaching.
"Is it time?" Luke asked.
Lucas nodded. "It is."
They followed him to a shaded spot beneath a fallen tree. Lucas set down his bag and began preparing the potion.
An object given from one who sees fate - string gifted from his mother, though he had a strange feeling he could guess who it actually came from, and he didn't know how to feel knowing even those three were supporting him.
Seven Silver Drachmas - taken from Thalia, though he also had to promise to pay it back in the future.
Crushed blue chalcedony - he had thought he could easily buy it from the mortal world but when he was searching through the satchel gifted by Iris, he was surprised to see one among the many stones and crystals she had gifted him.
Thalia watched him closely, seeing the random assortment of items. "You really trust this stuff?"
"I trust the path," Lucas replied. "I trust myself."
Luke stood beside him. "You didn't brew this one with Hecate's help?"
"No. I asked. She said she couldn't shield me again."
Luke frowned. "Then why now? Why here?"
Lucas answered. "There is no way to hide what comes after, so instead of attempting to hide now, I will face it. It's what they call open defiance."
Annabeth frowned. "What comes after? Why would you need to hide from the gods?"
Lucas weighed his thoughts, turning to look at his friends. His family. He made a decision. "My mother couldn't shield this potion like the others because of a secret, there was a prophecy made long ago about me. One which the gods may not be happy to hear."
That startled the three of them, not expecting a prophecy to be connected.
Though Lucas did catch the small flicker in Thalia's eyes when he mentioned a prophecy.
Thalia crossed her arms. "And why do you need us here?"
"Because the potion hurts," Lucas admitted. "It doesn't just change the body. It changes the mind. Changes everything. If I lose control, if I fall too deep... I want people I trust nearby. People who know how to bring me back."
He looked at Luke. "You've done it before."
Luke nodded. "I'll do it again."
Lucas gave a faint smile.
Lucas started by heating the water in the cauldron, and when it was boiling he added the crushed blue chalcedony watching it melt and turn the water an intoxicating sky blue.
He stirred the potion, watching it swirl and felt his thoughts gradually being attracted, falling into the swirl. Lucas shook his head, fighting the feeling before adding the seven silver drachmas. Dropping them in one at a time. Each time one hit the surface of the liquid, they melted, looking like silver clouds floating in the sky.
Finally he added the core material, the item touched by fate. He grabbed the string and layered it over the swirl he was creating with the stirring. The potion shimmered, turning illusionary.
Seeing this, Lucas stopped. He emptied the potion into a flask and gave the others a nod, which they returned, before lifting it to his lips.
He drank.
The pain came instantly.
Not fire. Not heat. But knives. Sharp, deliberate blades carving into his thoughts.
He fell to his knees.
The world blurred. Sound shattered. The sky lost color.
The pain was agonizing, blood leaked from his orifices and his mind felt like it was turned to lead. The pain grew before eventually it stopped as suddenly as it had come.
Lucas opened his eyes and saw he was no longer at camp.
He stood in the void again.
The endless grey mist swirled.
It wrapped around him, surging like a living ocean. Shapes twisted within it, memories half-seen and futures unnamed.
He was seated atop the throne he saw last time he came here. Watching all this.
From somewhere nearby, a laugh echoed.
High. Mocking. Familiar.
Lucas looked for its origin but found nothing.
This seemed to entertain the voice for it gave out another peel of laughter.
He left the throne, moving into the mist.
He saw the crossroads again.
He saw his choice.
The Mist howled.
Lucas gasped.
And then, he was back.
Blinking. Chest heaving.
Luke had caught him mid-fall, one hand gripping his shoulder tightly.
Annabeth was beside him, checking his pulse, her brows knit in concern.
Thalia stood nearby, watching, concern etched on her face.
Lucas coughed. "I'm fine."
Luke didn't let go. "That didn't look fine."
Lucas took a deep breath. His head still throbbed. But his eyes were clear.
"It's done," he said.