The Grand Azathoth Hotel - Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Asia clutched her stomach as it let out another pitiful growl, the dull ache of hunger making her head swim. She had long since grown used to the gnawing emptiness, but today, it felt sharper, more cruel. She had no money, no place to go, and worst of all, no one left to turn to. The Church—her home, her family—had abandoned her, cast her aside for doing what she thought was right. Healing a devil had cost her everything. And yet, despite it all, despite the cold and the hunger and the fear pressing in on her, she still prayed. Because if she let go of her faith, what else did she have?

Her stomach twisted painfully, but before she could double over, a voice broke through the haze.

“Are you hungry?”

Asia gasped and looked up.

The world around her seemed to blur, the damp alleyway fading into the background as she took in the boy standing before her. He was dressed plainly in a black school uniform—nothing ornate, just a blazer lined with red, a white shirt beneath it. But the moment her eyes met his, her breath caught in her throat.

There was light.

Not physical, not something she could see, but something she felt. A warmth radiated from him, quiet and unwavering, like a gentle embrace in the middle of a storm. His dark eyes held kindness, his expression soft yet unreadable, as if he saw her suffering and expected nothing in return. In his hand, he held a simple loaf of bread.

“Here,” he said, offering it to her. “You should eat.”

Asia’s vision blurred as she took the bread with shaking hands, clutching it as though it might disappear if she let go. This was proof. God had not abandoned her.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “A-Are you… a saint? An angel?”

The boy blinked, then laughed softly—warm, almost sheepish. “Me?” He smiled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that.” Then, with an easy confidence, he placed a hand on his chest and introduced himself.

“My name is Issei Hyoudou. I’m just a humble servant of the True God.”

Asia felt her breath hitch.

Hope had found her at last.

— — — — — 

Robin sat at the reception desk, her fingers lightly tracing the weathered leather cover of the Necronomicon, her eyes—now pitch black, devoid of any whites—moving fluidly across the ancient text. She was nearly finished with the second of five sections, and surprisingly, she wasn’t entirely mad. Well… maybe just a little. The dreams were strange, shifting between impossible landscapes and whispered truths that slithered beneath her skin, but she had learned to cope. The coffee helped. Or maybe it made it worse. Hard to say. At least the dress—or rather, the thing she wore masquerading as clothing—kept her grounded. Sort of. Maybe.

She exhaled slowly, pressing the book shut with finality. A shiver ran through the air, a ripple in reality responding to her act, and immediately, she felt the subtle movement against her skin. Her uniform—dark, elegant, tailored to professional perfection—was not just fabric, and proximity to such knowledge made it react in ways she still wasn’t entirely used to. The silk-like material trembled against her, almost in anticipation, as if it wanted to drink from the knowledge she had just absorbed. She glanced down, watching as the delicate black weave coiled slightly, whispering in a voice only she could hear.

Read it aloud. Let me taste. Let me see. Give me the words, and I will give you power. James does not deserve it — you do. You must avenge Ohara. Think of what you could do to the World Government with my Power. Just read a few words aloud and…

Robin rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Behave,” she muttered, flicking the collar of her shirt like she was scolding a misbehaving pet. The dress hissed in response, an almost wounded sound, but it stilled under her touch. It had power, sure. But nothing compared to James. Nothing compared to the thing she had sworn herself to serve. The entity who, despite his ridiculous coffee obsession and casual exasperation with existence, owned this Hotel.

And then—another voice.

Smooth. Silken. A voice crafted to tempt, rich as honey and twice as dangerous.

“Hi, I’m back, baby. Didn’t know the Hotel had a cute new receptionist.”

Robin’s entire body tensed as she instinctively raised her head—and immediately regretted it.

She could not see him. Not really. The space before her was wrong, shifting between blinding radiance and abyssal darkness, simultaneously both and neither, her vision burning as reality twisted just trying to contain his presence. Her mind recoiled, screaming, as if some fundamental law of existence had just been mocked in her presence.

Her eyes burned.

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” the voice chuckled, and suddenly, the world made sense again.

And now, standing before her, was a man.

Not just any man—the man.

He stood effortlessly, all golden perfection wrapped in an immaculate black suit, the fine material hugging his frame as if it had been tailored by a god. His hair, slicked back with an ease that seemed effortless but was undeniably precise, shimmered beneath the dim Hotel lighting. His face, impossibly symmetrical, carried a smirk that was equal parts amusement and invitation, his golden eyes gleaming with knowledge, mischief, and something more dangerous beneath the surface. He leaned against the desk, exuding the kind of confidence that made kings bow and saints reconsider their vows.

“Better?” he asked, grinning as if he hadn’t just assaulted her retinas with the raw concept of handsomness.

Robin barely blinked. She smiled politely, as any good receptionist would. “I’m just an intern.”

He laughed, the sound warm and velvety, curling in the air like an intoxicating melody. It settled over her skin, made something flutter in her stomach, and that, more than anything, made her slightly annoyed.

“Well,” he mused, tapping a finger against the counter, his smirk deepening, “I suppose you won’t be for long.” His gaze flickered over her, assessing, entertained. “Could I get the key to my room, please?”

Robin hesitated.

He, of course, noticed her hesitation. His smirk curled into something softer, almost teasing, as he leaned in just a fraction. “Oh, don’t worry, love. Of course I'm a guest. And you can even check the Ledger — but do you really think the Hotel—and the keys—would allow an intruder?”

Robin considered this, then finally smiled. Of course not.

“Which room?” she asked, opening the purring Ledger. 

He’s eyes glowed with something unreadable. 

“Number 2.”

— — — 

The air in the attic of the Big House was thick with dust and the stale scent of old parchment, but Zoe Nightshade barely noticed. Her mind was far too preoccupied with the growing dread curling in her chest. She had kept her expression schooled, her posture rigid with the discipline of a Hunter, but deep inside, the worry gnawed at her. Her mistress, Lady Artemis, had not returned. That alone was enough to send ice through her veins. Artemis never delayed without reason. And if something was powerful enough to stop her from returning… it was powerful enough to kill her.

Zoe clenched her fists, the creak of her leather bracers the only sound in the heavy silence as she stood before the Oracle’s motionless form. She was not alone—Percy Jackson, Thalia Grace, Bianca di Angelo, and Grover Underwood stood behind her, shifting uneasily as the air in the room seemed to thrum with an unseen energy.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Grover muttered, adjusting his cap. His goat legs were jittering, hooves clicking softly against the wooden floor.

Thalia crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, it’s not supposed to be comfortable. It’s an Oracle, not a hotel lobby.”

Zoe stiffened slightly at the word hotel, but said nothing. Instead, she took a breath and turned toward the lifeless, mummified figure sitting against the wall. “We are here for a prophecy,” she said, her voice even and commanding. “The goddess Artemis is missing. We need guidance.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the temperature in the room dropped. The shadows stretched unnaturally long. A faint green mist seeped from the cracks in the floor, swirling upwards in curling tendrils, filling the room with an eerie glow. The mummified Oracle moved—not by muscle or sinew, but as if controlled by unseen strings. Her empty eye sockets blazed with green fire. The room vibrated with unseen power as her jaw unhinged, and from the depths of her dried throat came a voice—ancient, hollow, and full of fate.

“Five shall go west to the goddess in chains,

One shall be lost in the land without rain,

The bane of Olympus shows the trail,

Campers and Hunters combined prevail,

The Titan’s curse must one withstand,

And one shall perish by a parent’s hand.”

The words echoed in their minds long after they were spoken, filling the space with an oppressive finality. Zoe exhaled slowly, bracing herself. This was not a prophecy to take lightly—already, she was calculating the dangers, the losses.

But then—something strange happened. The Oracle twitched. The green mist shuddered, curling in on itself unnaturally. The skeletal jaw moved again, but instead of another pronouncement of fate, the Oracle made a sound no one had ever expected.

”…Wait.”

Zoe’s breath caught. The Oracle never hesitated.

The mummified corpse twitched again, as though struggling against something unseen. A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them before the Oracle’s voice returned, no longer as steady as before.

“Huh… Huh. Yes… No… Wait. The prophecy…” The voice crackled like wind over dead leaves, tinged with something almost confused. “Fate has… changed their mind. Wait… yes… Mmlh…”

A moment of absolute silence followed.

And then:

“Forget the prophecy.”

For a moment, no one reacted. Percy blinked. Thalia tilted her head. Grover’s mouth opened slightly, his goat brain failing to process what he had just heard. Even Bianca seemed frozen in place.

“Uh—” Percy was the first to break the silence. “Did the Oracle just say forget the prophecy? Can she do that?”

“I don’t think that’s how this works,” Thalia muttered, staring at the Oracle as if it had personally offended her.

Zoe’s lips parted slightly, the shock momentarily shattering her composure. This was unprecedented. The Oracle’s voice was not its own—it was the voice of Fate. And Fate never changed its mind.

Yet before they could question further, the Oracle spoke again.

“Five — or six, including the goat, because who cares — shall go west where the sweets are divine,

One must sit where the cosy Hotel shines,

The fate of the goddess rests in a brew,

Campers and Hunters must sip it true,

The Titan’s curse must one withstand,

And one shall perish, by an empty hand.”

Silence.

Percy slowly turned toward the others. “Did she just say… sweets?”

“Brew?” Thalia’s expression darkened. “Like coffee?”

Grover gulped. “A goat? A Cosy… Hotel?”

Bianca, who had not been a demigod long enough to know how wrong this was, simply furrowed her brows. “Is this… normal?”

“No,” Zoe breathed. “It is not.”

But while the others were still processing the absurdity of the prophecy, Zoe felt something else settle into her mind. A distant, forgotten memory—something her mistress had once mentioned long, long ago, back when hotels were not a thing that existed. A story told in passing, one she had never questioned at the time, because what meaning did it have then?

But now…

Now she remembered.

The others stared at her, expecting an answer, but Zoe could barely find the words. Her hands clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to breathe evenly. Zoe swallowed hard.

“Huh, Zoe,” Percy spoke again, shifting uneasily. “Do you… actually know what that means?”

She was afraid she did.

And she did not know what to think of it—on one hand, it meant that Lady Artemis could probably be saved. But on the other… it meant that the world, the entire world, could be swallowed whole. If the Hotel had its doors open, if the prophecy was calling them to it—It meant they were playing with something far worse than the Titans.

“It means…” Zoe forced the words out, steadying herself. “We need Lord Apollo to give us a ride.”

Percy blinked. “Wait, that’s it? You looked like you were about to announce the end of the world.”

Zoe did not answer. Because the truth was…

She wasn’t sure she hadn’t.