A table stood inside a rickety building on the outskirts of Alexandria. It was covered in scraps, mechanisms, parchment, and miscellaneous parts. Leaning against it was an ordinary walking cane, its owner thinking hard about the schematic he'd been staring at for the past few minutes. He was a feeble old man named Daedalus, once an accomplished swordsman and even more accomplished inventor, though now he couldn't even walk without the aid of a stick or the bronze braces on his legs.

Back when the man was just shy of being called old, he had grown desperate. He'd begun to regret his unforgivable transgressions, but feared meeting his lifelong enemy, Minos, in the Underworld. He'd prayed to his mother, the goddess Athena, for her forgiveness and her help. Once before, she'd cursed him and branded him with a purple partridge on his neck as a reminder. And once more, she'd cursed him for daring to ask her for help. She'd granted him immortality, but didn't stop him aging until his skin felt loose, hair turned gray, and bones perpetually ached.

Many centuries later — he'd lost count — he was still trying to repent and escape from Minos's ghost, who never stopped haunting him. He'd not seen the goddess ever since, nor stepped foot in his abominable labyrinth. The entrances popped up of their own volition wherever he went, taunting him, but he'd always been able to ignore them. This made it all the more surprising when Athena emerged from a hatch in his floor that had not been there a moment ago.

"Daedalus," she said stiffly. There was something off about her. She looked older, and more tired. She seemed almost. . . weak.

"Mother," the frail demigod muttered. "You look. . . well."

She scowled. "I did not come here to chat, my disgrace of a son. I have a task for you."

Daedalus stared at her and said nothing.

"Greece is falling. By the end of this year, the war will be over. Rome will have won."

"Indeed," said Daedalus. He'd come this far south to avoid the war. Anyone with a brain could have predicted Greece's collapse more than a century ago. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"It has to do with Zeus." Her tone sounded bitter. "He ignored my countless warnings and refused to intervene. We're weakening. For the past several months, Hestia has been asleep. At this point, it's inevitable that I and all the other gods will join her in that fate."

"What do you mean by 'asleep'?"

"She's unresponsive. Her hearth has gone out, and she's trapped in a physical form. Though she's still alive, she's fading; we're all fading. Come the turn of the century, there will be none of us left — unless you do something."

Daedalus gaped. "What do you want me to do? If there was a machine I could invent to save you, then Hephaestus will have already built it."

"I'm loath to admit it, but I need you, Daedalus. I'm only comfortable admitting that because this is the last time we'll ever speak. Demigods are our only hope. Find them — every last one. Gather them together. Train them. Lead them to save us; it's the only way. Do this, and all will be forgiven."

"All will be. . ." Daedalus trailed off, his eyes wide and heart suddenly beating faster than it had in years. "But- but how?"

"That is for you to figure out," said Athena. "Good luck. May you prove a better mentor to these young heroes than you were to Perdix."

Without another word, she disappeared through the hatch. And for a long time, her decrepit son stood there, rubbing the purple partridge on his neck, so many thoughts in his mind that he didn't know which to pursue. Finally, he began to dig through his things until he'd found a device resembling a thick arrowhead. He set it down on his workbench next to a fresh sheet of parchment, then, with great excitement, he set to work drawing up a fresh schematic.

Several years later, Daedalus was hobbling along, west of Cyrene. Flying in front of him was a small metal bird. He followed it into a sparsely wooded area not far from the coast, leaning on an overly-designed cane all the while. Eventually, the bird let out a small chirp, which meant that what he was tracking was near. He took a glance at the darkening sky before gesturing with his cane, and the bird flew off.

By the time it returned, the ancient demigod had impossibly built an entire wooden cabin and sat down inside, staring out the window. When he saw his tiny automaton approaching, several minutes later, he opened the door and allowed it to land on his wrist. But the bird hadn't come alone. Standing back, looking nervous, was a young boy with black hair and eyes of vibrant green.

"Step forward, boy," said Daedalus.

With a cautious mien, the boy did so. The bird chittered, and Daedalus nodded to it appreciatively.

"You have a strong aura around you, child," he said.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"My name is Daedalus, and I'm here to help you."

The boy was hesitant to reply. "I'm Perseus. My mom used to call me Percy, though."

"Monsters been giving you trouble?"

Percy nodded.

"How would you like to sleep with a roof over your head tonight? Then I can take you to a safe place, with others like you."

The boy's eyes lit up, though he looked doubtful. But before he could answer, a deep roar came from the woods. The old man's ears twitched; he knew that roar. Percy looked panicked, backing away and staring, frightened, at a movement in the trees. A rapid rumbling could be felt underfoot as something with heavy footsteps quickly approached.

"Minos," Daedalus spat.

A moment later, a bipedal beast emerged and beat its fists against its hairy chest. With the body of a man but the head and bulk of a bull, there was no mistaking it. He was Asterion, the Minotaur. And only one person could have sent him.

"Perseus, get back!" Daedalus yelled.

The monster's nostrils flared, and it turned its ferocious gaze in response to his voice. The old man gripped his cane and stood his ground. Asterion stamped his foot and looked ready to charge. Percy, having come to the same conclusion, threw a rock that struck the side of its head. The beast roared and turned to him, then didn't hesitate to break into a sprint.

"Idiot boy!" Daedalus started to limp forward, but it was no use.

Percy stood frozen as the Minotaur came for him, and would surely be struck. But he was a demigod, and quite clearly a powerful one, too. His natural instincts seemed to kick in, and he jumped out of the way with great speed. Asterion missed him entirely and took three full seconds to come to a stop and turn around. It started to advance once more, but Daedalus pointed his cane forward and pressed a button. A small object shot out of the end and exploded in the beast's face with a blinding flash. Asterion recoiled and blinked furiously, stunned.

"Boy!" Daedalus said urgently.

Percy looked at him, trying and failing to hide the fear in his expression.

"Once it picks up momentum, it can't stop or turn," said Daedalus. "Use this. It's your only advantage."

"What am I supposed to do?" said Percy.

"Don't overthink. Just find your opportunity, then kill it!"

The boy looked like he had more he wanted to say, but just then, the Minotaur regained itself. It pounded its fists on the ground and stared daggers at Daedalus. Percy threw another rock at it, but it didn't seem to care this time. It pawed the ground with its foot, then abruptly ran at the old man. He was too slow to dodge, but luckily Asterion was still disoriented from the flash and missed him. Daedalus backed away from it as quickly as he could, cursing his brittle bones.

Then, as the monster was about to turn around for another attack, the boy did something foolish. He ran forward, leaped onto its back, and tried to wrap his arms around its neck. He didn't have any weapon or any way of hurting it at all, and his arms were too short to reach. Asterion bellowed and immediately shook Percy off, who went flying. But this did accomplish one thing: Percy now had its attention.

Once more, now angrier than ever, the Minotaur charged. Daedalus watched with great unease, unable to help any more than he already had. With an immense effort, the boy got to his feet, wincing in pain. He stood his ground and waited. Then, at the last possible second, he leaped out of the way. Asterion, unable to stop, plowed right into a tree. Its horn got caught in the wood. After a short struggle, the beast managed to free itself, but not without leaving the horn behind in a resounding crack. It instantly made a wild grab for Percy, but he slipped through its grasp. The boy darted between its legs, wrenched the horn from the tree, and stabbed it in the side.

Asterion let out one last bellow as he crumbled into golden dust, leaving behind nothing but the bloodied horn. And even as Daedalus shambled over to the boy, who'd collapsed to his hands and knees, he was smiling. He knew he'd found someone truly remarkable.

Daedalus lumbered through the camp they'd set up a little ways away from Alexandria. Demigods were walking around, training, laughing, and living freely. The old man doubted there could be many left to find now, if any. The gods had been asleep for over half a decade, so it wasn't like they could create any new ones. And judging by the average age of those he'd found, the gods' affairs with mortals had rapidly decreased even during the years leading up to Greece's fall. The youngest of them were just reaching their teenage years, and it'd probably stay that way.

Percy waved at him as he passed, sitting hand-in-hand with a blonde girl named Annabeth. Theirs was a recent romance, though not unforeseen. They'd been close for a long time, but Daedalus had his doubts. For the time being, they were happy; he hoped he was wrong in thinking they wouldn't stay that way. But he wouldn't voice these thoughts, just like he wouldn't voice the suspicions he had about the girl's grey eyes.

The old man reached his personal workshop and locked himself inside. He glanced at the countless crumpled up sheets of papyrus and parchment that were scattered over the floor. Then he sat down with a great sigh, rubbing his temple. For years, ever since his mother had made her request of him, he'd been attempting to figure out the puzzle of how to do it, yet he'd come up with nothing. Daedalus had spent almost all of his time withering away in this shed, writing down thoughts that came into his head and then immediately discarding them. The truth was, he hadn't the faintest clue how to save the gods. He'd succeeded in gathering all the demigods in one place, but that was only half of what Athena had asked of him. In regards to the more important half, he was a failure.

The old man was saved from his helpless thoughts when a metal bird flew in through the window. Instinctively, he raised his arm for it to perch on, but he was surprised. It chirped at him, which meant it'd made a discovery, but the last time that had happened was more than a year ago. He supposed this must be one of those few birds that had gone missing.

The famed inventor placed it on his shoulder and exited the workshop without delay. It took him a few minutes to travel a distance that should've taken him one, were he in his youth. He found Chiron running some younger demigods through some drills and pulled him aside.

Indeed, Daedalus had run into the centaur only a few weeks after beginning the endeavor, and Chiron had readily accepted to aid him. They'd split up, tracking down as many demigods as they could and bringing them to safety. The two had agreed to keep the truth about the gods secret until the demigods were ready, but that wasn't the reason Daedalus had suggested it; he was, in actuality, too ashamed to admit that the smartest man alive was stumped.

"Has it found someone?" Chiron asked after spotting the bird on his shoulder.

"It has," said Daedalus. "I'm going — immediately."

Chiron looked hesitant. "Are you certain? Perhaps I —"

"I'm immortal, Chiron. This is nothing I can't handle. These kids need you more than they need me. Keep things running while I'm gone."

Daedalus had begun to suspect that his immortality was waning, but chose not to share this. As his mother grew weaker, so did her curse. And his already significantly aged body was slowly beginning to age even more. The old man didn't have long left, and he doubted he'd live to see his mother's wish accomplished. But he wasn't going to stop working toward it until the day he died, which may come sooner rather than later.

He passed by Percy one more time as he left the camp, not bothering to tell him he was leaving. The boy was his favorite student and the one he had the most hope for. More than just being naturally powerful, Percy possessed the morals and perseverance that could make him a hero on par with the greats, such as Achilles and Odysseus. If it were up to Daedalus, Percy would take up the role of leader when he was gone, but that wasn't in the stars. Most likely, Luke would be handed that title, for better or for worse.

Less than a week ago, Daedalus had arrived in Carthage on the bird's directions. Less than a week ago, he'd learned it was a trap. He hadn't even made it into the city gates before being clapped in irons by Roman soldiers. Then, with a ghost that only Daedalus could see grinning smugly behind him, their legatus ordered he be promptly transported to Rome.

So now, after spending a single night in a cell in the Republic's capital, he was being escorted to a crowded plaza by a handful of legionnaires. Standing upon a dais was the man who'd arrested him, a legatus by the name of Catreus Grace. The ghost and a soldier holding a heavy-looking axe were there behind him. The spectators were fervent in their excitement, likely wondering who it was they were about to watch die.

As he got nearer to his chopping block, the old man began to feel the fear set in. He remembered the day Athena had made him immortal, how ecstatic he'd been to have escaped Minos for good. Then, as the years continued, he became more and more miserable, realizing that immortality was indeed a curse. The dead king never stopped haunting him. It became more difficult to invent new things. At points, he'd wished he could die. Several times he'd suffered would-be fatal wounds, and was sure the intense pain was a call from Thanatos. Yet he'd healed and got to continue in his bitter, pointless existence. But now that he knew he was finally at the Underworld's gate, he was afraid.

Daedalus stood before the shouting people of Rome, now on the dais with his executioner waiting behind him and the legatus rambling on. He didn't regret that he was here. He deserved this — no amount of repentance could make up for what he'd done to his nephew. The old man had cheated death long enough, and had no more impact to make upon the world. He accepted that, despite the dread he felt. His mother's task was left to more capable hands than his; the demigods would succeed without him. In that, he had faith.

"I accept my fate," Daedalus announced. "You could at least do me the honor of reading me my supposed crimes, Minos." The last word was quiet enough that only Catreus Grace and the ghost could hear.

The ghost of King Minos stepped forward, smiling viciously, then talked over the legatus, who was refusing his request. "You want it spelled out for you, old man? Don't expect me to do you any honors. It's over! My work on the surface is finally at an end."

The old man was on his knees, seconds away from death, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. "After all these years, you finally won. Don't think I'm giving up when I meet you down there, Minos."

The ghost laughed, and didn't stop even once the axe had fallen. And when Daedalus was finally presented before the judges of the dead, Minos was still cackling.