Chapter Text
There were several things I had learned since becoming a member of the Justice League.
First: Superman was much less intimidating once you had seen him lose an argument about whether leftovers still counted as edible.
Second: Batman could make silence sound judgmental.
Third: if Apollo ever said the words I have an idea, somebody should immediately locate the nearest fire extinguisher.
And fourth:
A quiet afternoon was never actually a quiet afternoon.
This was why, when Apollo and I were sitting in the Watchtower lounge doing absolutely nothing heroic, I should have recognized the warning signs.
I was lying upside down over the back of the sofa.
Apollo was sitting properly because apparently thousands of years of godhood had given him standards.
“You’re going to fall,” he said.
“I can fly.”
“That does not make what you are doing less stupid.”
“It makes falling significantly less concerning.”
Apollo looked over the book they were reading.
He was Apollo today. Blond hair, masculine presentation, he/they pronouns, and a white shirt that somehow remained perfectly clean despite the fact that we had eaten lunch approximately twenty minutes earlier.
I had gotten mustard on my sleeve.
There were gods of sunlight, music, prophecy, healing, poetry, and archery.
Apparently there were also gods of not getting condiments on yourself.
Apollo sighed.
“You know,” he said, “when I first met you, I thought your complete disregard for gravity was charming.”
“You still think it’s charming.”
“I tolerate it because you are attractive.”
I grinned.
“Same thing.”
“It absolutely is not.”
I let myself slide farther over the back of the couch until my head nearly touched the floor.
Apollo continued reading.
I stared at him.
He ignored me.
I stared harder.
“I can feel you doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to annoy me telepathically.”
“I don’t have telepathy.”
“That has never stopped you before.”
Fair.
I flipped upright.
Seven years at Hogwarts, six summers of Young Justice missions, one extremely complicated transition from student hero to actual Justice League member, and somehow the most difficult thing I had accomplished was sitting normally on furniture.
I lasted approximately twelve seconds.
Then the alarm went off.
Apollo slowly lowered their book.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
“No,” Apollo said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to say—”
“If you say ‘finally,’ I will push you out an airlock.”
“You know I can fly.”
“In space?”
I paused.
“Probably.”
Apollo pointed at me.
“Exactly.”
The Watchtower alarm changed pitch.
That was the difference between someone needs assistance and everyone currently wasting time in the lounge should stop wasting time in the lounge.
I was already moving.
The green League uniform I wore under my clothes reacted to the activation command built into it. Within seconds, the civilian clothes were gone beneath the Nevermore suit.
My wand slid from its concealed holster into my hand.
Apollo stood, golden light briefly flashing around him as Bard’s uniform replaced his clothes.
“Any prophecy?” I asked.
“No.”
“That sounded offended.”
“I am the god of prophecy. I am allowed to be offended when emergencies happen without consulting me.”
We reached the corridor just as Barry appeared in a blur.
“Metropolis,” he said.
I frowned.
“That’s Clark’s city.”
“Yeah.”
“That usually means Clark handles it.”
“He requested backup.”
Apollo and I stopped.
Barry stopped too.
Nobody said anything for half a second.
Then I said, “That seems bad.”
“Yep.”
The three of us ran.
Technically, I flew.
Barry complained that this was cheating.
I reminded him that he could run faster than sound.
He said that was irrelevant.
We reached the main transport platform, where Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Superman, Damian, Annabeth, Percy, Nico, Will, and several other League members were already gathering.
Clark looked fine.
That was reassuring.
Mostly.
His cape was torn.
That was less reassuring.
“What happened?” Bruce asked.
Clark projected an image onto the central screen.
The creature on it was approximately eight feet tall.
Humanoid.
Sort of.
It had two arms, two legs, and a head, which was where the similarities to humans ended.
Its limbs bent at angles I didn’t like. Its skin—or armor, because I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began—looked dark and metallic without reflecting light properly. Its face was smooth except for narrow pale slits where eyes should have been.
It carried a long black weapon shaped somewhere between a spear and a sword.
Percy stared at the image.
“What is that?”
“That,” Bruce said, “is what we’d like to know.”
Annabeth stepped closer.
“Where did it appear?”
“Downtown Metropolis,” Clark said. “There were six.”
“Only six?” I asked.
Clark looked at me.
“They threw a city bus.”
“Six is plenty,” I amended.
Diana studied the projection.
“It is not a creature I recognize.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Diana knew Greek mythology.
More importantly, Diana knew the things that had existed before people started calling them mythology.
Percy leaned toward Apollo.
“Your family?”
Apollo looked offended.
“Do you think I have personally met every hideous monster ever produced by creation?”
Percy stared at him.
Apollo considered.
“That was poorly phrased.”
Nico stepped toward the screen.
“They’re not from the Underworld.”
“You can tell from a picture?” Damian asked.
“I can tell they’re not dead.”
“Useful.”
“Thank you.”
“I was not complimenting you.”
“You should try it sometime.”
Bruce ignored them.
Naturally.
“The six in Metropolis attacked infrastructure first. Communications towers. Power stations. Transportation hubs.”
Annabeth crossed her arms.
“So they weren’t rampaging.”
“No.”
“They had targets.”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
Monsters were easier when they acted like monsters.
Hydras attacked because hydras were horrible.
Manticores tried to eat you because apparently evolution had given up.
Even Dark Lords generally wanted something dramatic enough to announce before attempting to kill everyone.
Organized creatures we had never seen before attacking infrastructure without wasting time on random destruction?
That was different.
“What happened to them?” Will asked.
“Four were destroyed,” Clark said. “Two escaped.”
“Escaped where?” I asked.
Clark’s expression changed.
That was my first clue I wasn’t going to like the answer.
“They disappeared.”
Barry blinked.
“Teleported?”
“We don’t know.”
Bruce changed the image.
Video footage appeared.
Clark slammed one creature through the remains of an empty office building. It recovered far too quickly, rose, and drove its weapon into the ground.
Space bent.
Not metaphorically.
Actually bent.
A black line appeared behind the creature.
Then the line opened.
For less than a second, I saw—
Something.
Stars.
Not normal stars.
No.
That wasn’t right.
I leaned closer.
“Play that again.”
Bruce did.
The creature vanished into the opening.
The opening collapsed.
“Again.”
“Peter—”
“Again.”
Bruce replayed it.
This time I focused past the creature.
Past the distortion.
Past the instinctive part of my brain insisting that a hole in reality was generally something best observed from several miles away.
There.
My fingers tightened around my wand.
“Apollo.”
He was already watching me.
“You felt it too?”
“Yes.”
Annabeth turned.
“Felt what?”
I lifted my wand.
“Magic.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed.
“Specify.”
“It wasn’t teleportation.”
Green Lantern crossed his arms.
“You can tell that from security footage?”
“I can tell it wasn’t only teleportation.”
That was the annoying thing about living with multiple magic systems.
Eventually, you learned that reality had accents.
Hogwarts magic felt different from fairy magic.
Greek divine power felt different from both.
Lantern energy was something else entirely.
Once you had spent enough time around all of them, you stopped thinking of magic as one enormous category and started noticing the differences.
The distortion in Clark’s footage had magic around it.
But not any magic I knew.
“There’s a spell component,” I said. “Or something close enough that my wand reacts to it.”
Bruce held out his hand.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
I handed him my wand.
Bruce examined it.
Nothing happened.
“Bruce.”
“Yes?”
“You’re a Muggle.”
Silence.
Barry made a choking noise.
Damian looked personally offended on his father’s behalf.
Bruce handed my wand back.
“I was establishing whether the object itself was reacting.”
“It reacts through me.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
The alarm screamed again.
Not one alarm.
Several.
Screens began appearing around the room.
Central City.
Gotham.
Coast City.
London.
Paris.
Tokyo.
Atlantis.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
Aquaman’s voice came over the communications channel.
“Watchtower, Atlantis is under attack.”
Another voice immediately overlapped his.
“Gotham perimeter breach.”
Then another.
“Central City—multiple hostiles.”
Then another.
“London reporting unknown entities.”
Then—
“Camp Half-Blood.”
Percy went still.
So did Annabeth.
Chiron’s face appeared on one of the screens.
Behind him, campers were running.
“Percy,” he said, “we have a situation.”
“Are they the same things?” Percy asked.
Chiron glanced away as something exploded in the distance.
“Yes.”
Percy uncapped Riptide.
“Well. Guess we’re going home.”
Bruce began issuing assignments immediately.
Of course he did.
“Superman, Green Lantern, Flash—Metropolis and Central City. Wonder Woman, Artemis, and additional League support to Washington and New York. Aquaman remains in Atlantis.”
He looked toward our group.
“Nevermore. Bard. Gray Owl. Riptide. Ghost King. Daybreak. Camp Half-Blood.”
I smiled.
Damian groaned.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Group mission.”
“We are responding to a coordinated global invasion.”
“Group mission during a coordinated global invasion.”
“That clarification does not improve it.”
I sheathed my sword.
Apollo produced his bow in a flash of gold.
Will checked his quiver.
Nico summoned his sword.
Annabeth was already scanning the reports Bruce had sent to her wrist display.
Percy looked at me.
“Bet you five drachmas we get there and Clarisse has already killed one.”
“Ten says she’s trying to keep one as a trophy.”
“That’s not fair. You know her too well.”
“We both know her.”
“Exactly.”
The transport activated.
For one second, white light swallowed everything.
Then—
Camp Half-Blood.
The strawberry fields appeared around us.
So did screaming.
And fire.
“Great,” Percy said.
A creature landed approximately twenty feet away.
Another stepped from behind the Big House.
Then another.
Then six more.
Campers were already fighting.
Clarisse was, in fact, standing on top of one.
I held out my hand.
Percy slapped ten drachmas into it without looking.
“Worth it.”
“Absolutely.”
The creature beneath Clarisse moved.
Clarisse stabbed it again.
“STOP DOING THAT!”
Apollo stared.
“At the creature?”
“I assume.”
“You never know with Clarisse.”
The nearest monster charged us.
Percy met it first.
Riptide slammed against the creature’s weapon with a sound like metal hitting stone.
It barely moved.
Percy did.
He slid backward through the grass.
“Okay!” he yelled. “Strong!”
I flew.
The ground disappeared beneath my boots as I shot upward, drew my sword, and came down behind the creature.
My blade hit its shoulder.
Sparks exploded.
The creature turned.
I kicked off its back and flew out of reach before its weapon could remove anything I was emotionally attached to.
“Armor!” I shouted.
“Noted!” Annabeth yelled.
Another creature rushed her.
She ducked.
Apollo fired.
The golden arrow struck the thing directly in the chest.
Light exploded across the armor.
The creature staggered.
Apollo frowned.
“That should have done more.”
“Comforting!”
“I did not say it was comforting!”
Nico’s shadows surged beneath another creature.
For half a second, it sank.
Then stopped.
Nico stared at it.
“Oh, come on.”
Will fired two arrows in quick succession.
One hit the creature’s wrist.
The other struck the narrow gap beneath its head.
It recoiled.
“Joints!” Will shouted. “Aim for the joints!”
“Finally,” Percy said. “A weakness I understand.”
Water erupted from the creek.
It slammed sideways into two monsters and carried them into a tree.
Annabeth pointed.
“Peter! Left one!”
I saw it.
A gap.
Small.
Between two sections of black armor.
Sword probably wouldn’t fit.
Magic would.
I dropped my sword.
Not permanently.
I’m not insane.
I released it in midair, flicked my wand into my dominant hand, and shouted a spell.
Red light hit the opening.
The creature jerked backward.
The armor cracked.
Percy’s sword went through the damaged section.
The creature collapsed.
For approximately one second, we all stared.
Then Percy grinned.
“Oh, we can kill them.”
“Wonderful,” Apollo said. “I was concerned we would have to politely ask them to leave.”
The fallen creature began dissolving.
Not into monster dust.
Not into shadows.
It broke apart into thin black particles that rose instead of fell.
I landed.
My sword dropped into my waiting hand.
Show-off move?
Yes.
Necessary?
No.
Worth it?
Absolutely.
The particles vanished.
Apollo landed beside me.
“That,” he said, “is not normal.”
“Very observant, Sunshine.”
Apollo slowly turned toward me.
I froze.
Percy made a noise suspiciously similar to a laugh.
“That,” Apollo said, “is not your nickname for me.”
“No.”
“You are never calling me that again.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Percy was openly laughing now.
Annabeth smacked his arm.
“Focus.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Correct.”
Three more creatures advanced.
Not charging.
Advancing.
Together.
I stopped smiling.
They moved in formation.
One raised its weapon.
The other two separated.
“They’re adapting,” Annabeth said.
Wonderful.
I had fought pirates.
Dark wizards.
Greek monsters.
Supervillains.
Aliens.
Assassins.
Ancient magical beings.
Several members of my boyfriend’s family.
That last category was honestly the most dangerous.
But these things were different.
They watched.
They learned.
And they had come here deliberately.
“Peter,” Apollo said.
“I know.”
He stepped closer.
Gold light gathered around their hands.
My wand warmed against my palm.
The three creatures moved.
So did we.
Percy attacked the center.
Annabeth called directions.
Nico trapped the right flank in shadows.
Will fired over his shoulder.
Apollo unleashed a burst of sunlight so bright I saw spots even though I wasn’t looking directly at it.
I flew straight through the chaos.
One creature swung.
I rolled sideways in the air.
Its blade missed my head by inches.
I slashed.
Nothing.
I fired a spell.
The armor flashed.
Better.
I fired another.
Crack.
“There!”
Apollo’s arrow hit the damaged point.
The creature fell.
Percy destroyed the second.
Nico and Will finished the third.
Silence.
For about half a second.
Then an explosion sounded from the cabins.
Clarisse screamed something that definitely wasn’t appropriate for younger campers.
We ran.
The next fifteen minutes blurred.
Campers.
Monsters.
Magic.
Water.
Arrows.
I switched between sword and wand so often that eventually I stopped consciously thinking about which one I needed.
Fly.
Dodge.
Spell.
Turn.
Sword.
Shield charm.
Dive.
Pull a younger camper out of the way.
Kick a monster in the face.
Discover kicking the monster in the face was ineffective.
Do not repeat.
Apollo stayed near me without hovering.
We had been fighting together for too many years to need constant instructions.
When I went high, he covered below.
When they drew attention with divine light, I attacked from the side.
When one monster nearly reached Apollo from behind, I hit it with a curse hard enough to send it through the wall of the arts-and-crafts cabin.
Somewhere, Sophia would probably feel a disturbance in the universe caused by unnecessary property damage.
Eventually, the last creature fell.
I landed in the grass.
Percy bent over with his hands on his knees.
Will checked Nico for injuries.
Annabeth was already examining a section of broken weapon.
Apollo stood beside me, glowing faintly.
Clarisse approached carrying the severed end of one of the creatures’ spears.
Percy stared at her.
“No.”
Clarisse frowned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re keeping it.”
“Obviously.”
I held out my hand to Percy.
He stared at it.
“What?”
“Another ten drachmas.”
“We didn’t bet on that one!”
“We discussed it.”
“That’s not how betting works!”
Clarisse looked between us.
“Idiots.”
Then every communicator went off.
Not the emergency tone.
The priority one.
The one nobody joked through.
Bruce appeared on the holographic display.
His face was grim.
Behind him, the Watchtower command center was chaos.
“Status.”
“Camp secure,” Annabeth said immediately. “Unknown hostiles defeated. We have weapon fragments and possibly recoverable armor.”
“Casualties?”
Will answered.
“Injuries. Nothing I can’t handle so far.”
Bruce nodded.
“Good.”
I looked at the displays behind him.
There were too many red markers.
Far too many.
“Bruce.”
“I know.”
“How many?”
He was silent for one beat.
“Confirmed attacks in thirty-seven locations.”
Nobody spoke.
Percy straightened.
“Thirty-seven?”
“And increasing.”
Apollo’s expression hardened.
“Greek sites?”
“Some.”
“Superhero targets?”
“Some.”
“Population centers?”
“Yes.”
Annabeth looked down at the weapon fragment in her hands.
“So there’s no single target profile.”
“Not yet.”
“Unless,” I said, “the target is us.”
Bruce looked at me.
I gestured vaguely.
“The world. Worlds. Whatever. They hit Metropolis. Atlantis. Camp Half-Blood. Places connected to entirely different kinds of power.”
Apollo glanced at me.
“Peter.”
“What?”
“You said worlds.”
“I said world.”
“You absolutely said worlds.”
I frowned.
Had I?
Probably.
Sometimes words happened before I properly approved them.
That was not prophecy.
I lived with Apollo.
I knew the difference.
Usually.
Bruce brought up the Metropolis footage again.
The black opening.
The stars behind it.
My wand reacted immediately.
A faint pulse ran through the wood.
I stared.
There it was again.
That wrongness.
Not evil.
Not exactly.
Foreign.
Like opening a door in Hogwarts and discovering the corridor on the other side had never belonged to the castle.
My skin prickled.
Apollo noticed.
“What is it?”
I raised my wand.
“The thing they used to escape.”
Bruce waited.
“It isn’t just teleportation,” I said.
“We established that.”
“No. I mean…”
I stepped closer to the projection.
The image froze on the instant before the opening disappeared.
I had crossed impossible places before.
Neverland did not respect geography.
Magic did not always respect physics.
The multiverse definitely did not respect common sense.
And somehow, looking at that tiny black tear in reality, I knew one thing.
Whatever was on the other side—
was very far away.
And much closer than it should have been.
“That isn’t a door from one place to another,” I said.
Annabeth frowned.
“Then what is it?”
I looked at Apollo.
For once, he didn’t have a dramatic answer.
I looked back at Bruce.
“I don’t know.”
That got everyone's attention.
Because after Hogwarts, Neverland, gods, superheroes, and years of increasingly ridiculous adventures, there were very few kinds of impossible I hadn’t at least seen before.
Bruce’s expression darkened.
“Then we find out.”
Another red marker appeared on the map.
Then another.
Then another.
I stared at the expanding pattern.
Apollo moved beside me and quietly took my free hand.
I squeezed his.
A quiet afternoon.
Of course.
I should have known better.
Apparently, the apocalypse had learned multiversal travel.