The Myth Of Divine Beings
Fact #1: Gods were not contained beings; they were raw power held back by their will to take a form.
Percy stood still. His friends were behind him. They had arrived, all the pain and suffering, all to bring them here. He surveyed the space. The air was dry and warm. Torches lit the room, decorated in precious gems and black decorations.
It was impressive, like nothing he had seen before, and huge, humongous, designed for giants. The throne itself could have seated a king-sized bed. The floor, black, made fully of opal, reflected the dancing fire that was especially red. The guards were nowhere to be seen, but skeletons lay at every corner, huge webs on the wall. He did not want to meet whatever had made those. Even without anyone near, a presence filled the entire room.
When Percy’s eyes first met Hades’, his heart palpitated. This was not a casual affair, nothing like his experiences with Mr. D. The air was thick with a putrid tension. Behind him stood Annabeth and Grover, squinting their eyes, unable to meet the God’s gaze. Their pupils were dilated, filled with fear. He knew this without even turning back. He baulked at the taste of their bitter anxiety.
Hades sat on his throne, his very being unhinged, bursting at the seams. A golden glow screamed from beneath his skin, reminding Percy of the myths—one look at a God’s true form and instant death. Hades thrummed with power, his glittering opal eyes resembling bottomless pits, holding furious flames.
Percy REALISED. Hades was not a PERSON of flesh and bone. Hades was a God. Hades was purely POWER, in a visible form.
The God tapped at his armrest impatiently as a fiery glow highlighted his jaw and unnaturally pale skin. His throne, a shocking white, gleamed with rubies, opals, diamonds, and gold. White—not just white. Bone. Percy shivered. A leathery whisper rang in his ears:
Ask him for an easy death
Submit yourself to the lord’s glory
Or be cast to the pits of depth
A memory flashed. Young Percy had stared at the one-eyed man watching him. His hands had been sweaty, and he had curled himself up, attempting to tighten into a ball. He had feared death. No one had believed him. He could have disappeared from the world, and no one would have cared. Something had rolled down his cheeks. Tears.
Mrs. Dodds had lunged at Percy with outstretched talons, the promise of blood gleaming in her eyes.
His mother’s life was being squeezed out of her. Her wide teary eyes. His body had stopped moving. He had been frozen. Helplessness. Anger. Pain. Monsters. Death. Suffering.
Medusa’s voice had whispered promises. He could have been free—free from all of life. Trapped in a statue. Dead to the world.
He heard a whimper. It was Grover. Oh, Grover! He had to leave, he had friends depending on him. A strong feeling surged within him. A certainty. Death was not his to face. The three old ladies had sprung to mind, all smiling at him, a thread in their hands, sea green, with hints of gold. He had to awake, he had something to do.
Percy felt it then. The rivers of the Underworld—Styx and more—ready to obey his command. The cold touch of an opal smooth against his feet. The dry Underworld air, warm and raspy. He resisted the urge to seek liquid. Percy needed to return, back to Grover, back to Annabeth. He opened his eyes. He needed to be strong. The whispers had faded, and something inside him had steadied.
Percy stood tall and met Hades’ eyes. Lord Hades. So, this had been what it meant to be a God. He was curious, but he had a Purpose there that day.
“Lord and Uncle, I come to you with two requests,” an authoritative voice sounded strong and steady. It took him a moment to realise the voice had been his own.
Later, even as he had left the underworld, stepping on the pearls his father had gifted him, he had KNOWN. That encounter had shown him. He had SEEN a glimpse of divinity.
Fact #2: Gods reflected what they were. Gods were their Domains. Gods were their Roles. And they showed it in every movement and action.
Olympus had reminded Percy of the Underworld. Golden patterns on walls instead of black, a white marble floor replacing Hades’ opal, and no skeletons or cobwebs. Otherwise the same. Where there had only been one throne, there had been twelve. He had almost wondered if the Underworld design had been intentional.
He walked forward unwavering, the lightning rod cackling in his hands. He did not dare gaze at the Gods. Instead, he felt for his father's presence and knelt, offering his greetings.
Even as he did so, Zeus’ weapon glided off his hands and floated away to its owner. It almost hummed with content. And Percy, Percy felt weaponless, helpless, and yet at peace. A feeling so familiar, like a mother's embrace, had encircled him.
“Should you not first address the Master of this house, boy?” a voice, undoubtedly belonging to Zeus,. An ozone smell enveloped the room. As angry as the voice sounded, it felt tired. Exhausted, pained.
For the first time, Percy allowed himself to look up, to gaze at the Gods, for his neck had hurt and his knees had ached. He gazed up at his father, scraggy beard and sea green eyes speckled with gold. And then he turned, he turned to face Zeus. His uncle and King.
Zeus had had a cleanly shaven beard and stormy grey eyes, with clouds swirling within. Even as exhausted as he sounded, he inspired, entirely uptight, the epitome of posture. When he spoke, the others turned, almost instinctively. Their ears leaned towards him. Even as the conversations had continued, Percy’s mind was observing. He observed the respect, concern, and admiration in the other Gods, even if masked by distrust, unhappiness, and jealousy. Percy’s own father had looked at Zeus, pained and respectful. And Percy, he had LEARNT something divine. The Gods reflected what they were. And Zeus, he was the sky, the weather, the clouds, and more. He was also The King. Even if the other Gods had been upset or angry, they followed his will, almost unknowingly. Zeus was King and Sky. His father, Sea and Storm. Hades, Death and Underworld.
The demigods too reflected something, their parents or their powers; mortals reflected their beliefs. Percy had wondered what he had wanted to show to the world, to the People of his King. He had wondered, and he had felt. One day, he would KNOW.
Fact #3: The Gods too were bound by fate and its whims. Some laws could not be overridden. I
t had been in his Mythology lessons with Annabeth that he had gained another GLIMPSE. The story of Persephone. He was confused. Persephone had had to stay in the underworld for a part of every year, for she had eaten one-third of a pomegranate fruit from the underworld, as was Law. He did not understand. What laws did such divine beings have to follow? Surely laws could have been changed. Surely something could have been done! He knew the extent of a Mother’s rage. Why did Demeter sit back and accept what had happened with no consequences?
He left the lesson confused and had walked. He walked and walked. The entrance of the big house. Oh. He was there with a purpose. He had understood. Dionysus, a god, must know the answer to his query.
When he asked his question, Dionysus had not grumbled, he had not laughed it off or sent him away. He had looked at Percy, understanding and grim, and had said, “Fates, Perseus. Even our wills are bent by the Fates. Demeter’s Anger. Hades’ Triumph. My Ascension. They are all the mechanisms of fate. We must all come to accept that eventually, Perseus. You especially.”
Percy understood. Divine, mortal, in between, and even objects—they were all equally subject to the will of the Fates. He RECALLED his encounter with them, the Morai. And he had ACCEPTED—he had a Fate to fulfill . And he pities. He feels sad, Demeter and Hades forced to share Persephone and Persephone, she had no choice. Fate was cruel indeed.
Fact #4 : In their Realms, in their Domains, the Gods were different, stronger, brighter, they were MORE
Percy had had his fair share of trouble with Hera. So seeing her in his mom’s wedding with Paul had been a shock. Seeing her being nice and kind, talking with the mortals, had been a bigger shock. She was different than usual. Even in the way she dressed she had swapped her usual blues and greys with a bright red. Her cheeks were a rosy shade as though from some light drinking and she seemed 20 years younger, appearing around 25.
When he saw her talking to Paul and his mom he was greeted with Hera blessing their marriage. Her usual snide tone was replaced with a warm gentleness that did not even disappear when she addressed him. “Nephew, how are you doing? I hear you’ve been very proactive in the wedding plans!” There was not a hit of animosity or her usual I’m better than you tone.
It was then when he understood. Hera was the Goddess of Marriage, family and fertility. A wedding like this was her Domain. Her place of comfort, her power in wishing and blessing others well. Here she was different in the way here she was anchored. Here Hera was Powerful and Here she showed Family and gentleness. Hades in his Domain was faster, stronger, more vast and overbearing. Zeus in his Domain was more regal, inspiring and an influence. And Hera in her Domain was kinder, calmer and caring.
Percy thinks he understands, like mortals in their safe spaces, the gods were more relaxed in their domains. Like how much more open and enigmatic he felt at home or camp rather than in school. He OBSERVES and he COMPARES. Yet another view of divinity.
Fact #5: The Gods were influenced by mortals beliefs and perceptions, beyond themselves.
It was after the war that Percy returned to the Hearth of Olympus, where the Last Olympian resided. Hestia, every time he’d talked with her she had shown him wisdom, not by domain like Athena’s but of her own true experiences, of her age. She had stood silently, watching from birth till morden times, all of the gods. And she knew when to share that knowledge.
When he saw her she was quietly tending to her flames, amidst the chaotic celebration. The flame was brighter than it had ever been, perhaps reflecting the victory of the olympians. He turned to glance at Hestia, opening his mouth to question his thought.
"It is not as you think. The flame is strong and burning brightly, fueled by you and the other demigods. It is the heart of Olympus, sustained by belief and the will of the west. As long as you believe, Olympus remains strong. In this war, you've reignited the gods' faith in themselves and the demigods' loyalty. The flame endures."
Percy thinks, sitting by Hestia’s side. He thinks of how disbelieving Hermes was, when asking whether he thought the gods could change. He felt it so and he believed. He wondered if the gods were the way they were, uncaring, forgetful and distant because of how their children saw them.
He thinks of what Hestia says and he understands. A god is made as much as he is by birth and Chaos as he is by beliefs. He thinks of Dionysus’ bitter expression when he said that the gods didn’t exist all those years ago. He remembers Chiron’s words, of how one day he may simply be a myth explaining how little boys lost their mothers, and he wonders, maybe tens, hundreds of years later, would he be remembered?
Percy WISHES of divinity. He WANTS to be remembered, to be understood.
Fact 6: Gods could destroy and Gods could create with nothing more than their Domains
It is in the Giant War, that Percy truly understood the might of his father. He stood side by side with his father, fighting all the giants that came their way.
He chopped the head off a giant , realising his father pierced the same giant in the heart with a spray of salty ocean water. How it got there he did not know. The giant was killed. He looked at his father who had abandoned his trident for the raw ocean. Swirling in gold his father destroyed monster after monster, sea water sparkling and glittering, ready to obey his father’s command.
This same water, Percy’s father had used thousands of years ago to create horses now destroyed, reducing enemy stallions to nothing. Oh. Percy UNDERSTOOD what he was SEEING. His father was a God. He needed nothing more than the ocean, his domain, to create, or to destroy. That was his POWER, and that was his SOURCE. And now Percy knew.
Percy thinks, he thinks of all he has done since his very first day at camp.
Of all the Demigods he has befriended, protected.
He thinks of Tartarus, he thinks of Akhyls, misery herself bowing to his mastery of her tears, of her poison, of her blood.
He thinks of the River Styx, and all her sisters who bowed to his will and lent him their strength.
He thinks of the rain, guiding his very first fight with the minotaur.He destroys.
He protects. He is liquid in itself and all of her sources. Perseus Alexie, protector destroyer. And he understands. He does not know when his seeing became FEELING. When understanding became DOING.
Perseus Alexie feels every demigod, fighting by his side, their clamour of weapons, their pain and injury. He will destroy to protect them. He spreads himself and his power.
Suddenly, injuries heal,the tired are refreshed and all of the demigods are empowered. They fight stronger. And Percy, he glows a familiar gold, standing beside his father as he destroys. He rips and tears bodies apart, with riptide, with blood, with sweat, with a rain that has begun and the tide of war shifts. The war will be won.
Some weeks later, new temples and sacrifices are made. Some months later a new god enters Olympus. Some years later, the demigods camps were rebuilt, stronger and safer. Some centuries later, demigods live years longer than even mortals.
Throughout, there are whispers, legends and stories of a hero who understood divinity. Of a hero who rose for his fellow warriors. A hero who destroyed to protect.
