Children of Olympus

Elliot had always felt the pull of the ocean, though he lived a hundred miles inland. The way waves crashed inside his chest whenever he got near water… it was strange. But nothing was stranger than the note he found waiting on his apartment door one Monday afternoon:

“To Elliot, Son of Poseidon.

Your presence is required at the top of the Chrysler Building at sundown.

Do not be late.”

He’d thought it was a prank. Until he met the others in the elevator lobby.

They were an odd bunch: a dark-haired boy standing stiffly in a leather jacket, arms folded—Marcus, son of Hades. A girl with impossibly perfect curls and a face that could have graced a magazine cover—Leila, daughter of Aphrodite.

Two boys, identical twins, were perched on the bench like sparrows, whispering to each other. They had gray eyes, intelligent and cool—Damon and Devin, sons of Athena, though neither claimed to know how they were born.

And finally, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and a fiery glint in her eyes, was Zoe. She wore a faded varsity jacket and scuffed boots and introduced herself as the daughter of Ares.

“Guess we’re the freaks of the week,” she muttered.

When the elevator doors opened, they all exchanged wary glances.

“After you,” said Leila sweetly.

Elliot swallowed and stepped in. The others followed.

The elevator climbed silently. Floor numbers gave way to Greek letters, and finally to symbols none of them could read. The air grew warmer. At last, the doors opened with a soft chime—and they stepped into the golden brilliance of Olympus.

Marble columns rose to impossible heights. Sunlight—or something like it—poured through open skies even though they were still inside a building. At the far end of the grand hall sat twelve thrones, gleaming in gold and silver, where the Olympian gods themselves watched.

“Children,” Zeus boomed, rising to his feet, lightning crackling in his palm.

“Whoa,” breathed Damon.

“You have been summoned,” Zeus continued, “because the mortal world stands on the edge of destruction. The veil between worlds grows thin. Monsters roam freely now. Harpies, dracaenae, even worse things claw their way through.”

He gestured to the gods beside him. Athena, cool and stern. Poseidon, watching Elliot with pride. Hades, shadowed and grim. Aphrodite, radiant and bored. Ares, grinning like a wolf.

“We are forbidden to interfere directly,” Athena said. “But you can.”

“You six,” Zeus declared, “are hereby appointed the Guardians of Olympus and the Mortal Realm.”

There was a long pause.

“Nope,” said Zoe.

The gods blinked.

“Nope?” said Zeus, incredulous.

“You heard her,” said Marcus, leaning against a pillar. “We didn’t ask for this. We didn’t even know you existed until, like, ten minutes ago.”

“You can’t just assign us a destiny,” Leila added. “I’ve got a life down there.”

Damon and Devin exchanged a look, then Damon said, “We respectfully decline.”

Elliot didn’t say anything at all. He just pressed the button for the elevator.

Zeus sputtered as the doors closed.

“You can’t—!”

But they were already descending.

“Well,” Zoe said once the elevator dinged at the ground floor. “That went about as well as it could have.”

Elliot nodded silently, his heart still hammering. They stepped out of the Chrysler Building lobby into the evening air. Cars honked. People bustled past, oblivious to what had just transpired.

Leila was already pulling out her phone. “Does anyone else feel… weird?” she asked.

Then the sky darkened—not with clouds but with wings.

A shriek cut through the air, sharp enough to freeze them in place.

Then the harpies descended.

They came in a swirling, cawing storm—half-women, half-bird monsters, talons flashing, beaks snapping. People on the street screamed and fled. One harpy slammed into a taxi, its claws raking deep furrows in the metal.

“Oh gods,” whispered Devin. “Oh gods.”

“They’re after us,” said Marcus, his eyes narrowing.

“No kidding!” shouted Zoe, dodging a claw swipe.

They scattered, ducking behind parked cars, lampposts, anything. But the harpies kept coming.

Then—ding.

The elevator behind them opened again. And out stepped Hermes, in a pinstripe suit and winged shoes.

“You really should’ve said yes,” he said cheerfully, tossing a large duffel bag at them. “Here. You’re gonna need these.”

“What—” Elliot caught the bag and unzipped it.

Inside: weapons. Glorious, deadly weapons.

He pulled out a dagger that shimmered like the ocean. Carved into the blade was a tiny serpent. The moment his fingers closed around it, he felt the sea roar in his veins.

“Claim your gifts!” Hermes called, already retreating into the elevator. “Good luck! Try not to die! Oh, and—” He flashed them a mischievous grin. “They would be back…”

And then he was gone.

The first to act was Zoe. She snatched up a heavy sword glowing faintly red. Sparks danced along its edge as she swung it experimentally.

“Oh yes,” she said grimly. Then she charged.

Marcus retrieved an obsidian-black axe, so dark it seemed to swallow light. “Stygian iron,” he murmured, then buried it in the chest of a shrieking harpy.

Leila pulled out a silver bow and quiver. “Finally,” she said. “Something that matches my dress.” Her first arrow caught a harpy clean through the throat.

The twins each took a dagger. Damon twirled his expertly while Devin tested the balance. “Parthenogenesis twins,” Damon muttered. “Guess it’s about time we did something freaky.”

“More freaky than being stabbed at by harpies?” Devin asked, and then they both leapt into action.

Elliot clutched his dagger and, on instinct, slammed it into the ground. A shockwave of water burst forth, coalescing into a gigantic sea serpent that roared and lashed at the swarm of harpies. Several screamed and scattered.

Zoe was unstoppable, cutting down harpies left and right, her blade flashing.

Leila moved like a dancer, every arrow finding its mark.

Marcus swung his axe in wide arcs, shadows curling around him with every strike.

The twins worked in perfect synchrony, weaving between monsters, slicing with deadly precision.

And Elliot stood at the center, his sea serpent coiling protectively around him, jaws snapping at the attackers.

By the time the last harpy fled, the street was littered with feathers and ash.

Elliot let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The serpent melted back into water and seeped into the pavement.

Zoe leaned on her sword, her breath coming fast. “Well,” she said. “That wasn’t terrible.”

Marcus looked around grimly. “They’ll come back,” he said.

Leila glanced at him. “How do you know?”

“Because they always do,” he replied. “They don’t stop. Not until they get what they want.”

“Which is…?” Damon asked.

“Us,” Marcus said simply.

They all fell silent.

Elliot closed his eyes and replayed Hermes’s words: They would be back…

The next morning, they met at a diner. Nobody slept much.

The waitress gave them odd looks when they ordered enough bacon and eggs to feed a football team.

“We need a plan,” said Zoe, stabbing at her pancakes. “We can’t keep running.”

“They didn’t exactly give us one,” Leila pointed out. “Just handed us weapons and expected us to fight.”

“Maybe,” Damon said slowly, “maybe we’re supposed to figure it out ourselves.”

“Or maybe,” Devin countered, “the gods are just using us as bait.”

Nobody disagreed.

Elliot stared down at his mug of coffee, swirling it absentmindedly. He didn’t know what scared him more: that monsters wanted to kill them… or that part of him had enjoyed the fight.

“Look,” said Zoe finally. “We may not have signed up for this. But we can either sit here like idiots or go find out who’s pulling the strings.”

Leila arched an eyebrow. “You mean… go back to Olympus?”

Zoe smirked. “What’s the worst they can do? Zap us again?”

“Or,” Marcus said darkly, “we find the monsters first. Cut the head off the snake.”

“Do harpies even have heads?” Devin asked.

Damon rolled his eyes. “Not the point.”

Elliot finally spoke. “I think… we have to try. Not for them. For us.”

They all looked at him.

“You heard Marcus,” he said. “They won’t stop coming.”

He glanced out the window. In the distance, dark shapes wheeled through the sky.

“They would be back,” he murmured.

That night, they returned to the Chrysler Building. The lobby was deserted.

As the elevator doors closed behind them, Marcus said, “You really think they’ll listen to us this time?”

Zoe tightened her grip on her sword. “I don’t care if they listen,” she said. “They started this. We’re finishing it.”

When the doors opened, Zeus was already standing, arms crossed. The other gods watched silently.

“Well,” Zeus rumbled. “Changed your minds?”

Elliot stepped forward.

“No,” he said. “We’re not your pawns. But if you want us to fight, we’ll fight. On our terms.”

Athena inclined her head slightly, a hint of approval in her eyes.

Ares laughed loudly. “That’s the spirit!”

Poseidon smiled faintly at Elliot.

Zeus scowled, but finally nodded. “Very well. You will have our blessing… and our silence.”

The six demigods turned and marched back to the elevator.

This time, nobody tried to stop them.

In the days that followed, they trained. They tracked monsters through the streets of New York. They fought in alleys and on rooftops, in tunnels and on bridges. Harpies. Dracaenae. Cyclopes. Each battle left them stronger, faster, sharper.

But no matter how many they defeated, more always came.

One night, after a brutal fight in Central Park, they stood catching their breath amid feathers and ash.

“How many more?” Leila asked softly.

Marcus stared at the darkened treetops. “Doesn’t matter.”

Elliot watched the stars. Somewhere up there, the gods were watching too.

“They would be back,” he said again, voice steady now.

Zoe sheathed her sword and smirked at him.

“Good,” she said. “Let ‘em come.”

And together, the six of them disappeared into the shadows of the city, ready for whatever came next.

They would be back.