Chapter Text
I remember when Mom explained to me about the marks.
“They’re from your soulmate,” she said, almost sadly. “Every scar they get, you do too. Sometimes, if something really important to you happens, you get a tattoo. Marks are different and unique to every pair, and they disappear when you die.”
She traced the large scar running down my cheek with the hand that had my name written on her palm.
Mom doesn’t have a lot of marks, she says it’s because she hasn’t found her soulmate yet. My name on her left palm from when I was born, a black trident behind her ear, a scar on her knee from her soulmate, her surgery scar on her ankle when she broke it, little ones. Some people have full bouquets of flowers wrapping around their torso, some have two different colored eyes, some have scars on their arms, some lucky people even have their soulmate’s name tattooed on them.
I’m not so lucky.
My main soulmark is obvious, I got it when I was 8, a large scar trailing down the side of my face, cheek to hairline. I have other little soulmarks, mainly scars, I think my soulmate might be in a bad situation for there to be so many of them. The only mark I had that wasn’t a scar was a small tattoo, a sword through a golden apple, on my hip that I got when I was 9.
The kids at school all avoided me because of my marks, ‘Broken Marked’ they called me. I hated it.
Grover was the only one who didn’t care about my marks, but I saw him eyeing it with a calculating look when he thought I wasn’t looking.
I'm probably a bit bitter about my marks, but I couldn’t hate them, they’re my soulmates’.
At least it’ll be easier to find my soulmate this way.
-
Waking up at this Camp Half-Blood is so weird.
The gods are real. Great. I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is the blonde girl named Annabeth who threw a fit when she saw me, pointing at my soulmark and telling me that I “don’t deserve it!” with so much venom and jealousy that I stumbled back in shock.
In fact, a lot of people were doing double takes of my soulmark. I’m used to people looking at it, but not in this surprised way that the campers are doing and… did those guys just point at my mark and exchange cash? What the-?
I was confused right up to the point that I walked into the brown cabin with Annabeth and one of its inhabitants gasped out loud and shouted for someone named Luke.
He ran forward, hand on the sword at his waist, scanning the room for whatever had surprised the cabin.
The world stopped when he made eye-contact with me.
Blue met Green. Matching scars, the slight burn from the marks that signalled a found soulmate, and the slight glow that surrounded us…
My Soulmate.
Something clicked, like our entire existence collided with the force of a dying star, and slammed straight into us.
I, already a bit weak from my encounter with the Minotaur, collapsed to my knees, grabbing my cheek with a hiss. Luke- his name is Luke!- wasn’t faring much better, staggering as he clutched his head, paling quickly.
“That is so not what Silena said would happen,” was the first thing out of his mouth. “Ow.”
I would have responded, but I honestly felt like I might faint at the overwhelming sensations.
I can feel his faint emotions, his shock and joy and fear and love.
Mom told me that this would happen, that when soulmates met their connection snapped fully into place and the connection could be so strong that I could pass out. But that is rare, and I’m not fainting in front of my soulmate!
The other campers were watching us with bated breath, smiling and silently gesturing as they fawned over us.
“Luke? Are you okay?” Annabeth spoke up, concerned.
“One second, oh gods that was a strong connection.” He huffed, blinking rapidly as if to dispel the still oppressive feeling of connection.
“Says you,” I grumbled, finally getting my voice back. “I can feel your emotions right now.”
His eyes widened, his surprise tingling at the back of my mind. “Sorry,” he apologised, trembling slightly as he moved forward to help me to my feet again.
The moment his skin made contact with mine, a new mark bloomed into existence on our wrists.
‘Luke Castellan’ appeared on my wrist.
I could see the blue on his reading ‘Percy Jackson’
He gave me a goofy grin, “I’m so happy to meet you Percy, soulmate.”
I gave him a smile back.
-
You shall go west and face the god who has turned,
You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned,
You shall be betrayed by the one who you treasured most,
And you shall fail to save the one who shall become the host.
-
"You make it sound like you're leaving."
Luke gave me a sardonic smile. "Oh, I'm leaving, all right, Percy. And I want you to come with me."
“Luke, what-?”
He stood calmly and brushed off his jeans.
"I saw a lot out there in the world, Percy," Luke said. "Didn't you feel it-the darkness gathering, the
monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics-being pawns of the
gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us halfbloods."
I couldn't believe this was happening.
"Luke ... you're talking about our parents," I said.
He laughed. "That's supposed to make me love them? Their precious 'Western civilization is a disease,
Percy. It's killing the world. The only way to stop it is to burn it to the ground, start over with something
more honest."
‘You shall be betrayed by the one who you treasured most.’
Everything clicked into place.
No.
“Kronos," I said. “You’re working for Kronos.”
The air got colder.
"You should be careful with names," Luke warned.
"Kronos got you to steal the master bolt and the helm. He spoke to you in your dreams."
Luke's eye twitched. "He spoke to you, too, Percy. You should listen."
"He's brainwashing you, Luke."
"You're wrong. He showed me that my talents are being wasted. You know what my quest was two years ago, Percy? My father, Hermes, wanted me to steal a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides and return it to Olympus. After all the training I'd done, that was the best he could think up."
“Yeah, and it got me branded as Broken Marked,” I spat at him.
He reeled back, shock and hurt on his face.
Broken Marked is the worst thing to be called. A broken soulmate who hates you, who might hurt you, who’s a criminal or monster or has something desperately wrong with them. I’ve been called Broken Marked since I was 8, the scar that we shared symbolizing my ostracisation from everyone.
“I- I’m sorry,” he stuttered the words out, thrown off. “I never meant to- I’m sorry.”
Luke looked genuinely horrified at the fact that his soulmate is called Broken Marked.
“Why, Luke? I can’t leave, you know I can’t. Why?” I pleaded with him.
He looked at me, genuinely looked at me, and spoke. “I wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone the moment I came back to camp from my quest, but I bided my time. I began to dream of Kronos. He convinced me to steal something worthwhile, something no hero had ever had the courage to take. When we went on that winter-solstice field trip, while the other campers were asleep, I snuck into the throne room and took Zeus's master bolt right from his chair. Hades's helm of darkness, too. You wouldn't believe how easy it was. The Olympians are so arrogant; they never dreamed someone would dare steal from them. Their security is horrible. I was halfway across New Jersey before I heard the storms rumbling, and I knew they'd discovered my theft."
A horrid smile slowly grow on his face as he recounted his crime.
"So why didn't you bring the items to Kronos?"
Luke's smile wavered. "I ... I got overconfident. Zeus sent out his sons and daughters to find the stolen bolt- Artemis, Apollo, my father, Hermes. But it was Ares who caught me. I could have beaten him, but I wasn't careful enough. He disarmed me, took the items of power, threatened to return them to Olympus and burn me alive. Then Kronos's voice came to me and told me what to say. I put the idea in Ares's head about a great war between the gods. I said all he had to do was hide the items away for a while and watch the others fight. Ares got a wicked gleam in his eyes. I knew he was hooked. He let me go, and I returned to Olympus before anyone noticed my absence." Luke drew his new sword. He ran his thumb down the flat of the blade, as if he were hypnotized by its beauty. "Afterward, the Lord of the Titans ... h-he punished me with nightmares. I swore not to fail again. Back at Camp Half-Blood, in my dreams, I was told that a second hero would arrive, one who could be tricked into taking the bolt and the helm the rest of the way- from Ares down to Tartarus."
"You summoned the hellhound, that night in the forest."
"We had to make Chiron think the camp wasn't safe for you, so he would start you on your quest. We had to confirm his fears that Hades was after you. And it worked."
“You nearly killed me,” I bit back tears as I realised the magnitude of his betrayal. “Did you know? Did you know you could have killed me?”
He looked away, ashamed.
"Thalia gave her life to save you," I said, gritting my teeth. "And this is how you repay her?"
"Don't speak of Thalia!" he shouted. "The gods let her die! That's one of the many things they will pay for."
"You're being used, Luke. You and Ares both. Don't listen to Kronos."
"I've been used?" Luke's voice turned shrill. "Look at yourself. What has your dad ever done for you? Kronos will rise. You've only delayed his plans. He will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves. All except the strongest-the ones who serve him."
I let out a sob, “I hate you!”
It was a stupid thing, letting myself fall prey to my emotions, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“How could you?! I trusted you and you betrayed me! I’d rather be dead than have to be your- your- Broken Marked!” I yelled at him, furious and horrified and betrayed. Desperate. “I hate you!”
He flinched, and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry Percy,” he whispered.
He snapped his fingers. A small fire burned a hole in the ground at my feet. Out crawled something glistening black, about the size of my hand. A scorpion.
I went for my pen, and it leaped.
I swatted it away with my hand and uncapped my sword. The thing jumped at me and I cut it in half in midair.
I was about to congratulate myself until I looked down at my hand. My palm had a huge red welt, oozing and smoking with yellow guck. The thing had gotten me after all.
Luke let a tear drop down his face, tracing the scar that we shared.
“I’m sorry,” he told me. “I’ll be back for you once this is over, like Orpheus did- you don’t have to suffer this war.”
He slashed his sword in an arc and disappeared in a ripple of darkness.
I wanted to wail in grief.
They were right, I’ll always be Broken Marked.
A golden scythe and trident, crossed as if in battle, appeared over their hearts that night.