Percy Jackson: An Endless of All

As I got far enough from the wreckage of my battle with Ares. And, yes, the wreckage will go unnoticed by the mortals' eyes. It would either be disguised by the mist or blamed on the ongoing revolutionary war.

I went on to pause beneath the shadow of a ruined archway and summoned my most loyal companion and the most skilled tracker and seeker.

"Nimbus," I said into the still air.

In a blink of glittering light and shimmering color, the winged Bloodhound appeared, tail wagging and eyes sharp.

"Woof! Master, you called?" he said, tilting his head.

"Yes," I replied, brushing dust from my cloak. "I need your assistance once more."

Nimbus sniffed the air, then stared at me—his gaze noting my disheveled form, the bruises still healing across my divine skin, and the faint shimmer of dried blood.

"Woof. You look like a scratched-up chew toy," he said bluntly. "What happened, Master?"

"I beat the God of War to a pulp," I said, smirking with satisfaction.

Nimbus blinked. "Woof. So that's why you look like you got into a bar brawl with a bear."

"Exactly."

Nimbus barked a small laugh. "Rough day at the office."

With Nimbus at my side once again, we resumed our tireless search across France.

Years passed, reluctantly. 

It was now 1798. Four long years had bled away in our hunt, and still there was no trace of my son. Which saddens me. For those four years, we scoured France, top to bottom, tirelessly hunting for a trace of Orpheus's immortal head. From the windswept coastlines of Normandy to the moss-covered ruins of ancient druid circles in Brittany, from the catacombs beneath Paris to the lavender fields of Provence, we walked unseen through mortal history. We visited battlefields still soaked in memory, villages tucked into hills that whispered old magic, and forests where dryads once danced in another age.

Nimbus and I scoured every village, every mountain path, every sewer tunnel, castle, and battlefield. We traced rumors, questioned mortals and monsters alike, even chased whispers found only in dreams. And still—nothing.

Occasionally, I would return to the Dreaming. Even gods must tend their kingdoms. I oversaw the ever-turning wheel of stories and slumber, ensuring the Dreaming remained whole. When my search called me away again, I left my realm in the capable hands of Christopher, the librarian who kept the infinite tomes of mortal dreams in perfect order.

But with every return to the waking world, the trail grew colder.

Nimbus's nose lost the scent. My senses as an Endless, usually unerring, felt like they were being deliberately misled—a force pushing me away, clouding the truth. The closer we drew to Orpheus, the further he seemed to fall from our reach.

Then, one late afternoon in the French countryside, in the year of 1798, as Nimbus and I rested near a riverbank that ran red with echoes of war, a golden light shimmered in the air before us.

Apollo appeared.

He stood radiant as ever, dressed not in glory but in quiet sorrow. His hair shone like captured sunbeams, and his eyes were heavy with the weight of centuries.

"I heard about your fight with Ares," he said gently.

I smirked. "He got what he deserved."

Apollo chuckled. "You beat the shit out of him. Honestly, good job."

We shared a smile—tired, knowing.

Then his face turned serious. "I've searched. I've sent demigods, fimialrs, even cursed a few monsters to help me find a trace of Orpheus's head. Nothing. Whoever took him... they're hiding him from more than just you," said Apollo with anger and sadness. 

The news hit hard, even though I'd suspected it.

"I won't stop," I said.

"Nor will I," Apollo replied. He stepped forward, pulling me into an embrace. Warm, steady, true. He pressed a kiss to my temple before stepping back.

"I have duties to attend to. But when you find a trace—anything—call me. And I will come."

And with that, he vanished in a ripple of light.

I turned back to Nimbus, steeling myself.

Then—on the fifth year of searching, in the year 1799—we finally found a new lead. Maybe not a new lead, but something we hadn't tried before.

And I came across someone I never expected to find in France.