Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

End of Day 1

It’s when the sun rises that Percy sees her.

Before the sun rises though, he can’t sleep. It’s supposed to be dark in the cabin, but silver light drifts past his frayed curtains from the dusting of stars scattered outside. The gentle glow from the stars reminds him of silver hair. Reminds him of a skeletal kitten with teeth that are just a little too sharp, of a smile that crinkles around the edges of his mouth, of eyes that radiate gentle warmth in the fiery depths of Tartarus.

His room feels oppressive, like a cage pressing in on all sides, walls trapping him from the twinkling stars. The stars whisper promises of freedom, of clear skies and brisk winds, of the slight, sharp saltiness of ocean breeze on chapped lips.

Longing tugs at him. To feel the cool breeze. To feel the spray of the ocean. 

To feel alive.

He sits up. The wooden bed frame creaks. He winces but rolls out from underneath his covers, praying that his mom won’t hear him. It’s much too late at night to be awake, and Percy doesn’t want Mom to worry about nightmares and insomnia, especially not during their two-week vacation at Montauk Beach.

Although, it’s true that he hasn’t been able to sleep well. At least, not for the past few weeks. 

They haven’t been normal nightmares; there are no monsters, no gods, no quests. Only dreams consisting of that moment, repeated over and over; that moment stretches to infinity as he stretches out his hand but only touches sticky redness, tastes the blood that has splattered across his face. The memory plays over and over in his head until he jerks awake and staggers to the bathroom to retch, bile swimming in his mouth-

He shakes himself out of his thoughts. 

Lately, he’s found himself thinking more and more until he finds himself drowning in his head, filled with what-ifs and thoughts that chase themselves in circles. Annabeth’s voice comes back to him, light and teasing- so you’re finally using that brain of yours, hmm? Better late than never-

No. Bad brain. He’s not here to reminisce. He just wants to see the stars, to escape from the suffocating space in his head.

Percy doesn’t bother to put on his socks when he creeps out of his room. The scratchy, wooden ground scrapes against his bare feet. He carefully closes the door to his room, and turns to the kitchen, only to see that the door to his mom’s room is wide open.

He blinks. Strangely, she kept her door open. For a second panic flares up in him- maybe a monster had gotten to her, maybe a god decided to kidnap her, maybe-

Then he spots Mom breathing softly in her bed, deep in sleep. On the ground, he can see a pile of blankets that she must have kicked off by accident.

His heart stops pounding. He hesitates, then slips into her room.

The silver glow from the moon outside her window seeps onto Mom’s face. It puddles on the creases of her face, the wrinkles on her forehead. Alone in the cabin, Percy can truly study her face for the first time. Her wrinkles are deep, like waves of the ocean. Streaks of white softly fall across her forehead. There is a lone strand that lingers in front of her face, that gently floats up as she breathes out. Breathes in. Breathes out.

She looks old, he realizes. Not the old that comes from years and years of life. This old was the type of age that came from the stress of watching her son fight against monsters that were centuries old. The stress of waiting for her son who had disappeared for nine months without a single word. The stress of living through years of praying to the uncaring gods- please let him live, oh gods, please have him come back home today. Just another day.

He gently brushes the white strand of hair off her face. Drags the blanket over the bed and pulls it back over her. She looks impossibly small with the patched blanket resting over her, swallowed by the thin cotton. 

He knows that Mom’s worried about him. It’s the only reason why she’s taken these two weeks off work. Two weeks of just her and him, in their small cabin in Montauk that Nico had so graciously offered to shadow travel them to. No Paul. Not even his baby sister, Estelle. It’s just like the old days, before his demigod quests swallowed up their entire lives.

In the meanwhile, Paul had promised to look after Estelle. It’s a bold gesture that Percy appreciates deeply. Taking care of Estelle alone is a bit too much like sending a soldier off into battle with nothing but toilet paper and baby wipes. The last time that Percy had seen Estelle, a few weeks ago, she had tried to teach her stuffed cat named Dog how to fly.

By swinging it above her head like a lasso. 

While on top of the refrigerator.

While he and Paul were busy panicking, Mom had just fondly rolled her eyes and plucked Estelle off the refrigerator. “You were about the same when you were younger,” she had told Percy as she patted a smug Estelle on the head. Percy had mentally apologized to all the gods of stuffed animals-

Blood trickles into his mouth, breaking him out of his thoughts once again. 

He sighs. He really needs a break. The inside of his mouth is already torn and ragged from all the times he’s bitten down too hard because it’s easier to deal with the tiny sting in his mouth than the overwhelming ache lurking in his throat.

When he leaves his mom’s room, he leaves the door wide open like how it originally was.

Outside the cabin, the stars are impossibly even brighter. They glitter like little sequins in the sky, and Percy can’t help but wonder if somehow Bob and Damasen could sense them from the depths of Tartarus, within the pulsing mounds of pus and monster goo. 

He hopes so. The stars are brilliant tonight.

He lifts a finger and traces it across the sky. There’s Polaris, the North Star. Then there’s Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. The Big Dipper curls around the Ursa Major, forming the hind legs of the grizzly bear. Further down, there’s a constellation of stars that form a girl running effortlessly through the dark skies. A Hunter, forever chasing her prey through the sky. Percy can almost imagine the bow clutched in her hands, the quiver slung against her back.

Percy drops his hand. The ache in his throat is growing. He stops staring at the sky and instead heads towards the waves beating at the shore.

Montauk Beach is a familiar place. The feeling of sand underneath his toes, the salty ocean breeze brushing across his face. He remembers the same feeling of sand and ocean when he could first recount his memories of the beach. It used to be comforting to know that this place would stay the same forever. That if the world ever changed, Percy could sink his feet into the warm sand and see what he always had seen.

Except, it’s not the same anymore. Now the sand reminds him of blonde strands of hair. The seagulls’ shrieking reminds him of playful bickering and arguing. The crashing of waves reminds him of knife clashing against sword; the murky waves remind him of dark grey eyes, stormy and bright and-

The memory of Athena’s eyes comes back to him. They are unnaturally soft. He hated it back then, hated it when he was standing in front of the gods with his hands gripped around Riptide and his voice hoarse and ragged. Hated the sympathy when all he needed was someone to scream at. Not a deity who was ancient enough to forget human emotions, yet still human enough to stare at him with that terrible, terrible sadness in her eyes.

The waves at the beach are growing larger and larger and redder and redder and the lump in his throat is also growing larger. For a second, Percy thinks that the clouds are bleeding into the waves, that somehow, something has sliced the sky into ribbons that seep red into the ocean.

But it’s only the sunrise.

And on the farthest rock, there’s a familiar silhouette, as familiar as Montauk Beach. As the stars are chased away and the sun turns into a brilliant ball of fire that rises above the horizon when Apollo begins his journey across the skies, the darkness from the silhouette begins to burn away.

The waves crashing against the shore recedes.

The lump in Percy’s throat disappears.

“Annabeth?” he croaks out, in a voice that hasn’t been properly used in days, as the sun finally bursts from the horizon. Free from its restraints, the light drives away every last shadow from the silhouette on the shore as Annabeth turns to him and smiles her fond, exasperated smile.

“‘Course it’s me, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth teases. “Who else would it be?”

They sit together at the top of the pile of rocks near the lapping waves of the ocean. Percy knows that the rocks will eventually disappear at high tide, swallowed up by the hungry waves. He pushes away the thought though. It’s not something he’s worried about, not when the most important person in his life is sitting beside him.

Annabeth hasn’t changed since the last time he’s seen her. Her blonde hair cascades onto her shoulders like waves from an ocean made of liquid gold. Her gray eyes, as stormy and as calculating as ever, staring off into the ocean. Across her belt, Percy can even spot the familiar glint of metal as her celestial bronze dagger strapped on her waist catches the rising sunlight of the sunrise.

Annabeth turns around and catches him looking. A little wrinkle forms on her forehead. Percy hides his smile. The wrinkle always appears whenever she’s confused. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks.

Percy returns his own lopsided smile. It feels a little strange on his face. He hasn’t smiled like that in what seems like forever, but with Annabeth, it comes naturally to him, just like breathing underwater is. “Because it’s you.” He leans forward, pecks her on the cheek.

The worried look vanishes from Annabeth’s gaze. She swats him on the head fondly. “You just saw me a couple of weeks ago, idiot.”

“Bit of a long time for someone with the attention span of a goldfish. It feels like forever,” Percy huffs. He almost places his hand on top of hers but hesitates. 

She notices and raises an eyebrow. “Suddenly so shy?”

When he doesn’t respond, she sighs. She pulls her hand from underneath his hoving hand and entangles her fingers with his. Her fingers lightly press against the back of his hand, warm and solid. She squeezes his hand, and after a moment, he dares to squeeze back.

“You should be able to survive without me for a few weeks at least.” Annabeth peers at him, and that worried wrinkle above her eyes appears again. With her free hand, she reaches over and lightly brushes away the tuft of hair flopping above his eyes. “You need a haircut. And there are bags under your eyes.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Percy mumbles.

“Nightmares?”

“Always.”

Annabeth’s eyes soften. Instead of fierce storm clouds, they look more like melting silver. “I’m sorry.”

Percy tightens his grip on her hand. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he insists. “You’re here with me now. That’s all that matters.”

He turns his gaze back to the ocean again. It’s strangely peaceful, little waves gently brushing against the rocks that they’re perched upon.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Annabeth opening her mouth. The wrinkle on her forehead has deepened. But instead of saying anything, she closes her mouth without another word. She lets Percy snuggle up closer, letting him rest his head across her shoulder.

He’s tired. He’s so, so tired. Her shoulder is unfairly soft, and he buries his face into her neck and breathes.

She smells like lemon soap.

“Just rest,” she whispers as if she can read his thoughts. “I’ll watch over you, Seaweed Brain. You deserve a break.”

He feels her hand brushing across his forehead. His eyes droop close and he finally feels like he can breathe for the first time in a long while, instead of floundering in the depths of the dark ocean. He’s not drowning anymore. He’s free, he’s flying, flying across the surface of the ocean, like one of the birds skimming a wing against the ocean waves-

He’s out before he can even process it.

He’s marching through the doors of Olympus that Annabeth had redesigned during the Second Titan War. The arches twist gloriously above him, sunlight pooling down at his feet. Minor gods in the forms of nymphs and satyrs giggle and prance through the endless gardens and pouring waterfalls that spout golden nectar instead of water.

He doesn’t see any of it.

He strides past the magnificent statues guarding the houses, tramples over the flowers that have been so painstakingly grown over months of replanting. Underneath his feet, cracks begin to spread, growing like dark vines winding across marble walls.

He’s here alone. Riptide swings from his fingers and a horrible sensation is building up in his throat, a mix of bile and bitterness and metal-

Day 2

When Percy wakes up again, Annabeth is gone.

Time has passed. The waves have swelled. Instead of licking at the edges of the rock, they swirl around his ankles. The sun hangs in the sky, burning a spot above the horizon. He can feel its glare burning on his skin, the heat glistening off the shimmering surface of the ocean.

He would have had a nasty sunburn if he wasn’t the son of Poseidon. But it seems like Posideon had granted his descendants the ability to roam the beaches without the pesky disadvantage of flaking, red skin. No matter how often Grover or Annabeth was sunburned from the sun’s rays reflecting off the lake within Camp Half-Blood’s borders, Percy was always left unscathed-

A wave splashes over his open hand. 

He jerks his hand back in surprise. The burst of cold blossoming against his hand is a strange contrast to the memory of Annabeth’s hand. The warm feeling of her hand lingers, in the same way that the late summer warmth lingers before the arrival of fall.

Percy flexes his hand, and suddenly he doesn’t want to stay on the rock anymore, sitting next to the space big enough to fit another person. He closes his fist, trying to hold on to the memory of Annabeth’s warm hand before he makes his way off the rock.

His feet submerge briefly in the water, but when he trods out into the sand again, they’re still dry. Water slides off him, leaving small, darkened imprints of wet sand behind him, like muddy footprints. 

Only instead of mud, the footprints are made up of wet sand. They quickly dry out, leaving nothing but a faint impression. It’s as if he hadn’t walked on the beach at all. As if he could disappear if he just lingered under the sun long enough, a wet footprint drying out underneath the harsh heat of the summer sun.

He can’t help himself. He hesitates. Lingers. Wonders what might happen.

Nothing happens.

He lets out a breath he doesn’t even know that he’s holding, and heads back to the cabin.

His mom wraps him in a hug as soon as he cracks open the door.

“Never again,” she says in a muffled voice, into Percy’s shoulder. Pain makes her voice crack as she tightens her grip even more. Percy’s heart tightens, shudders. He hadn’t realized how long he had stayed outside with Annabeth. His mom must have been worrying for at least an hour.

“I thought you snapped again. That you had marched up to Olympus and-”

“Don’t think please,” Percy whispers. “I’m sorry that I stressed you out. I fell asleep outside.”

His mom heaves in another shaking breath. Her shoulders are so frail. She pulls back, and Percy can spot her red eyes before she looks away. “I didn’t know what to think. I went into your room, and you were gone. Like when you- like when you disappeared that day, and I got that Iris Message from Nico-”

“I’m sorry,” Percy breathes out and he means it in so many more ways than one. Staring at his mom with the strange, white streaks in her hair and knowing that it’s because of him - the knowing is a strange sort of atonement, a penance of guilt and shame.

Even now, she stays strong for him. She looks back at him, and her eyes are noticeably less red, less watery. But she can’t erase the evidence: the dried tear-tracks tracing trails down her face, the way her smile keeps wobbling at the corners.

“It’s still early enough for brunch. I have bacon thawing in the fridge. There are bagels on the counter that we can toast, or if you would rather have bread-”

“Want me to help?” Percy interrupts softly.  He inwardly flinches when he sees the surprise flooding her face. “I haven’t been much help for the past few days,” he adds. “I thought maybe that I could- that I could try again.”

He hates himself even more when she smiles at him, bright and delighted. She shouldn’t be so happy over such a small thing. “We have three more eggs left too, so try not to burn the rest. And I brought over the blue food dye for old times sake,” she says.

She opens a drawer and rummages through it. The well-worn container of blue food dye comes out. She turns to him with such hope in her eyes that he swears to himself that he will do better, that he will do anything in his power to keep that light brimming in her eyes.

He offers her his lopsided grin, the same one he gave Annabeth just a few hours ago. And although it’s a little hard to force out, he manages. “Blue eggs? Hades, yes.”

She beams.

Once Percy helps Mom finish cooking, they bring their brunch outside to eat. 

It’s windy outside, and Percy has to stab his bacon with a fork to keep it from flying away. Unfortunately, there is nothing to save his eggs. A few pieces tumble away, and both he and his mom watch as a few seagulls snatch up the pieces of the scrambled egg from the sand.

Percy’s a little surprised that the seagulls can even recognize that the eggs are food. True to his word, he had added a few drops of blue food coloring into the eggs, and they’ve come out a bright, almost nauseating shade of blue. They look like they had just been dunked in blue paint by a bunch of kindergarteners for an art project.

The bright blue eggs are still edible though, which is more than Percy could say for some of his other cooking projects in the past. He had once tried making watermelon soup for dinner a couple of months ago, but warm watermelon didn’t taste very great. Surprise, surprise.

He stuffs bacon in his mouth, and from the corner of his eye, he can see his mom staring at him. It’s a little unnerving, the way her eyes track the bacon that he’s currently devouring, but he tries to ignore her gaze.

“We haven’t been together like this in a while,” Mom suddenly says. 

“Hmm?” Percy looks up. His mouth is filled with more of the strange, inedible-but-actually-edible eggs and he’s afraid to open his mouth to show the disgusting mess of blue eggs and bacon currently in his mouth.

Mom smiles. It’s another one of her soft smiles that Percy begins to see less of the older he gets and the more quests he’s on. She looks peaceful, younger even, as if the ocean air was somehow the elixir to youth, and his mom was the only person who understood how to use it.

“Nothing. It’s just… I’m glad that the ocean air is good for you.” She huffs lightly. “I need to thank Nico for shadow-traveling us here, even if he wasn’t very enthusiastic about it.”

A flash of Nico’s disgruntled face when he was asked to volunteer as a kids-sized vehicle pops into Percy's head. He hides his snicker. His mom raises an amused eyebrow before her face suddenly turns serious. “You isolated yourself,” she says, voice gentle. “Disappeared, even. Estelle hadn’t seen you in weeks. Then, Nico called us back one day and told Paul and me that you had stormed Olympus.”

Percy’s amusement vanishes in an instant. He winces. He knows exactly what she’s talking about. “Sorry.”

Mom waves his apology away. “You’re going through a lot. But I want to remind you that you have people who care. You’re my son, and you’ll always be my son no matter what.” She touches his arm, eyes pleading, yet so warm. Always so warm. “I’m always here for you. And even if it takes a trip to the beach to make you feel a little better, I will gladly do that for you.”

For a brief second, Percy wonders if he should tell her that it wasn’t just the ocean air that was helping him, that Annabeth is here too.

But then the urge to tell her passes when his mom begins humming. She spoons more blue eggs onto her plate, and Percy decides that he can tell her some other time.

At the dinner table, Percy props an elbow on the table and rests his chin on his hand. “Why do you leave your door open at night?” he can’t help but ask.

Instead of responding, Mom slides a massive bowl of spaghetti on the table. It’s drowned in tomato sauce and meatballs. For a second, it looks more like a mutilated bowl of steaming guts and blood than food, before Percy shakes away the image in his head. Maybe Mrs. O’Leary would be delighted, but that’s certainly not the picture Percy wants before eating.

“Elbows off the table.” His mom swats at Percy’s arm with an oven mitt. “What did I tell you about table manners?”

Percy huffs but pulls back his arm. “I’ll grab the plates and forks.” He pushes back his chair and heads over to the cabinet with the dishes and utensils.

As he’s fiddling with the forks and spoons in the drawer, he hears his mom suddenly speak up, sounding a little sheepish. “It’s a bit of a silly reason, really.”

“What is?”

“The reason why I keep my door open at night.”

Percy shrugs. “Annabeth always insists on airing out the blankets to check for spiders-” he stutters when his mom freezes. “S-so… er yeah, I mean, I’m not going to judge either way.”

His mom studies him. Her forehead is wrinkled again, but instead of telling Percy why, she takes the plates from him and begins to scoop spaghetti onto them. “I always kept my door closed when Gabe lived with us,” she admits. “Didn’t want him to- to barge in without me knowing. I even had to lock my door when he got… threatening.”

Percy’s hands tighten around the forks.

She twirls the spaghetti in a neat pile on the first plate and starts on the second plate. “It became a habit. Even when he was gone. But I didn’t want to give that memory any more power anymore. I wanted to show the world that I wasn’t afraid.”

“The world? You mean, the gods?”

Mom gestures to the forks still clenched in Percy’s hand. When he hands over the forks, there are indents in his hands, white and pink around the edges. He ignores the throbbing in his palms and heads over to the table to sit again.

His mom plops the forks in the middle of the spaghetti plates. “Not the world outside,” she clarifies. “The world here.” She meets Percy’s gaze and reaches out to lightly prod Percy in the chest. “The world that you create from the things you choose to pay attention to. I’m choosing to move on.”

Percy stares at his mom and at the determined curl of her lips, and at that moment, he can’t think of anyone else in the entire world, gods and monsters included, who has as many guts as the person sitting in front of him.

“That’s not a silly reason at all,” Percy finally says.

His mom’s shoulders relax. “Glad you think so,” she says, sounding a little sheepish again.

Day 3

This time, when Percy sees Annabeth, she’s sitting on the sand, far from the ocean. Her gray eyes sparkle up at Percy and he can’t help but grin back. She looks so alive, with pink in her cheeks and a smile that lights up her entire face. She’s wearing her usual Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, and the bright orange looks even brighter from the hazy glow emitted by the sun.

“When was the last time you’ve built a sandcastle?” she asks.

He joins her on the sand. It’s grainy against his hands, and he can feel the residual heat from the afternoon sun that has gathered within the sand underneath his fingertips. It’s so hot that it almost feels like it’s burning the skin off his hands.

He raises an eyebrow. “Why would I build a sandcastle when the ocean is ten times better?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. Already, she’s digging a hole in the sand, piling the dry sand away from her to get to the damp sand underneath. “I’ll pretend that I never heard that. You have a chance to redeem yourself.”

“By digging a hole?”

He sees a flash of teeth when she grins at him, reminding him too much of a shark scenting a drop of blood in the ocean. Her eyes have taken a dangerous glint, filled with a competitive spirit. “We’ll see who has the superior sandcastle in the end.”

“That’s cheating,” Percy complains.

Annabeth doesn’t even say anything. She leans back on the sand and smiles smugly at the sand structures on the beach.

It’s not even a competition. On Percy’s end, there’s a limp mound of sand, with a tiny twig on the top. Percy had attempted to build a moat around his droopy-looking castle, but half the moat had crumpled in, leaving something that looks suspiciously like a half-melted sand monster beginning to rise from the ground.

Annabeth’s castle is fully equipped with a moat, two sets of staircases, four towers, six archer towers, and a miniature horse figurine made out of seaweed and driftwood and Hades knows what other materials. She even had the time to etch in designs onto the walls of her sandcastle, outlining each brick.

“You and your Athena-powered brain.” Percy sighs. “Well, at least my sandcastle has a flag.”

As soon as he says it, half of his sandcastle collapses under the weight of wet sand piled way too high. The twig at the top of his mound tumbles off and lands next to the non-existent moat around his castle.

“Never mind.” Percy glares sadly at the stupid twig that has failed him.

“That means you can’t say anything when I flail around in the ocean.” Annabeth plucks the twig that had fallen from Percy’s sand structure and plops it on the highest tower of her castle. Unlike his sandcastle, Annabeth’s tower remains upright.

“Why not?”

“Because you, mister, have the unfair advantage of being a Poseidon kid,” she teases. “What’s this now about me having an Athena-powered brain?”

“...True,” Percy admits. “But I still want my castle to look better.” He thinks for a moment, staring at the mound of sand at his feet, then snaps his fingers. “What if I pushed mine closer to yours? That way, it’ll look more like an actual structure.”

Thirty minutes later, Percy has managed to push all of the sand from his sandcastle next to Annabeth’s meticulously built one. They both stare at the structures side-by-side. 

“Now, it kinda just looks like something from Beauty and the Beast,” Percy finally says. “Except it’s the sand edition.”

Annabeth laughs, and the sound makes everything worth it, droopy sandcastle and all.

Familiar sea-green eyes stare back at him, wide and horrified. A few others rise, but he just bares his teeth at them and they freeze and it’s a little funny how they shirk away from him, the supposedly all-powerful, the supposedly all-knowing beings, sitting atop their marbled thrones. They look at him as if he’s crazy. He feels like he’s going crazy.

“Where is he?”

The growl comes low from his chest. He draws his blade, and the light from the alcoves of fire glints off the metal, sending bronze light scattering across the throne room.

“It’s too late.” When Percy whirls around, he meets black eyes, as black as the darkness that suffocates the Underworld.

Riptide clatters to the ground.

Day 4

“I forgot how cold the ocean was,” Mom says, laughing a little. A large, floppy sun hat sits on her head as she cautiously dips a bare foot in the ocean and immediately pulls it out with a slight wince. The ocean doesn’t stop breathing though. The waves keep tumbling forward, washing over her other foot.

She yelps and jumps backward, nearly tripping over her sandals that she has left on the sandy shore. Percy can’t help but snicker.

It’s a beautiful day outside. The sky is a deep, blue color, so blue that Percy can almost imagine reaching out and scooping out a piece of the sky, just like Bellerophon must have imagined as he soared across the sky on Pegasus. Clouds trickle by, little wispy patches of white that float across. The sun is a hazy, bright splot against the bright blue, burning down on the beach. 

“Stop laughing at me,” Mom says, rolling her eyes. Despite her words, there’s still a smile on her face. “Anyone would think that the ocean would be a little warmer, considering that it’s at least 95 degrees outside.”

Percy makes a face. “Imagine, swimming in warm ocean water. No thanks. We already have the pool for that.”

Mom snorts. “Oh gods, don’t remind me.”

Another wave rolls up on the beach, higher than before. This time, the water gently swirls around Percy’s ankles, nipping at his toes, before it retreats like a scared animal. Mom manages to dance out of its grasp at the last second, but her sandals on the sand have no fighting chance.

Both of them stare at the blank patch of sand where her sandals used to be. 

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Mom sighs. “Guess that’s my sacrifice to Poseidon for today.”

Percy shrugs. Then with a twist of his hand, he reaches out with his consciousness, sensing, feeling for a break in continuity, of something foreign within the ocean waters. The ocean resists, pushing back with its natural flow, but Percy shakes off the feeling. Just a little further, a few more feet … there it is.

With a snap of his fingers, he drags ocean water up in the air. Within the fist of water, two sandals are bobbing within its grasp.

Mom gapes at him. He grins back and drops the fist of water over her head.

“PERSEUS JACKSON,” she shrieks. She emerges from the downpour of water, floppy sun hat soaked and dripping. In her right hand, she grasps her two wet sandals like weapons promising to rain pain down on her opponents.

“You’re welcome?” Percy says weakly. He smiles at her, and she narrows her eyes back at him in mock anger.

“Young man, you better come back here.”

“Yeah, nope. Bye!” he says cheerfully, already sprinting away from the water. She chases after him, throwing fistfuls of sand, and they run around the beach, slipping and sliding among the loose dunes and laughter shimming in the summer haze.

For a brief moment, Percy swears he can spot a dash of golden curls flashing at the edge of his vision. But when he blinks, it’s gone. Before he can dwell on the image, a handful of wet sand lands on his back, and he decides to push away the thought for now to throw a sandball back at his mom.

Day 5

Percy tugs on Annabeth’s hand. Today, he finds her standing on the shore, looking out into the ocean. For a moment, he wonders why she’s staring into the sea, but his excitement drowns out any other questions he has. He can’t keep the grin off his face. “Annabeth! Close your eyes for a second.”

Her head jerks around. There is an odd look in her eyes. But when Percy blinks again, the blankness disappears, as if he had imagined it in the first place.

She closes her eyes without a fight, and Percy leads her across the beach. With every step, his toes sink into the ground, leaving faint dimples that are quickly filled up by loose sand. When he looks behind, Annabeth’s eyes are still closed.

“This is longer than a second.” Annabeth sounds amused. “What are you planning?”

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, wouldn’t it?” Percy snarks back. “Anyways, we’re here. Give me another second, then you can open your eyes.”

Through various methods of tugging and pulling, Percy finally manages to straighten Annabeth to face the ocean. He gives her a few taps on the shoulder, and she opens her eyes.

Her mouth falls open. “Are those… seals?”

On the rocky part of the shore, two fat seals are lounging on a large boulder. Both of them are happily stretched out in the sunlight like large, leftover lumps of clay that Prometheus had forgotten to mold into humans.

“Yup, they are,” Percy says proudly. “Mom and I walked past them in the morning.”

Annabeth eyes them critically, but there’s a look of delight in her eyes that she can’t hide. “They look exactly like you waking up in the morning.”

“Hey! Not sure how much I look like a gray blob.” Percy protests. “You’re not much better either.”

Annabeth tosses her head up in mock loftiness. “I am the daughter of Athena. If I’m not a night owl, then I’ll be a disgrace to my whole legacy.”

“Malcolm wakes up early.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “He’s not normal. What sane demigod wakes up every morning at 6 AM?”

Percy begins tallying the names on his right hand. “Jake. Katie. Nico, but that’s only because I don’t think he sleeps. Travis and Connor… although it’s usually because they’re trying to pull a prank on Katie-” He adds in his left hand, putting up another finger. “That’s already what… six?”

Annabeth snorts. “Are any of them sane?”

There’s a pause. “No,” Percy says with the dawning realization of someone who finally is beginning to understand the mysteries of life. Then he tilts his head. “I don’t think any demigod is sane. We have a lava rock-climbing wall in Camp-Half Blood that’s supposed to be fun.”

Annabeth grins at him. “Because it is. You’re saying that life-threatening situations with lava aren’t fun?”

“So I’m the only sane one?”

Annabeth snorts again. “So much confidence.”

Percy gently raps her on the head. “Hey, hey, don’t make fun of me. This is why I brought you to look at the seals together. So we can both make fun of the blobs of gray suntanning on the rocks instead of me.”

Annabeth turns to look at the seals again. They haven’t moved from their previous position, still having the time of their lives under the warmth of the sun. “They’re kinda cute,” she says. When Percy looks at her incredulously, she elaborates, “In a blobfish, chunky sort of way.” 

Percy huffs. She eyes him slyly. “They’re not as cute as you.”

“What?” he splutters.

“You’re more fun to tease. Did you know that your ears turn red when you’re embarrassed?”

“ What? ”

Annabeth playfully tugs on Percy’s ear. “Your ears are pretty red now.”

Percy’s pretty sure his entire face is red. He swats her hand away from his ear. “Eyes back on the seals,” he says weakly as Annabeth dissolves into laughter.

His screaming dissolves into helpless laughter. 

He’s back in the throne room and this time, he’s howling but no one moves; no one even seems to be breathing. Everyone in the throne room are figures who are larger than life, yet are too pathetic to do anything except stare at him with something much too close to pity. 

His laughter is hardly audible, hoarse from his screaming, but it still makes the gods flinch. It’s such a human action that he can’t help but double over and choke on his laughter even more.

Day 6

Nico stops by the cabin during dinner the next day.

There is still food on the table, a mix of blue mashed potatoes and green peas and leftover purple-ish chicken legs from last night that he and his mom had tried to dye blue. Percy is busy debating with his mom whether large marshmallows are better than small marshmallows (of course large marshmallows are better, how else would people make s’mores?) when the shadows around the cabin flicker.

Both of them freeze. Percy’s fingers inch towards his pocket where his trusty pen is. His mom pushes back her chair and reaches for the frying pan that’s innocently sitting on the kitchen stove behind her.

“Might be a hellhound,” Percy mutters. He’s already running through the different scenarios in his head: if it jumps at them, he’ll slice through the neck; if it attempts to shadow-travels, he’ll aim towards the shadow; if it’s a different monster, he’ll restrain it with water. There’s still a glass of water that’s perched next to the sink counter, and it’ll take less than twenty seconds to send the water flying towards the intruder.

He critically scans the frying pan in his mom’s hands. It’s a larger weapon, more surface area. Out of the corner of his mouth, he whispers, “Aim for their skull. The easiest part of their body to hit.”

The shadows begin wriggling together, chunks of darkness crawling across the ground like sentient creatures. They gather together, coalescing into a large, human-sized shadow that Percy realizes, is much, much too small for a hellhound to cross-

Nico pops out of the shadow. 

He blinks at Percy and his mom, who are both staring at him. “Don’t ‘ave that big of a ‘ead,” Nico mumbles. He sways where he stands. “Sword. Big. Too shiny.”

Percy caps Riptide, and it shrinks back down into a pen. For a second, he wonders why Nico is so exhausted; if he can summon an entire army of the undead, a single shadow-traveling trip shouldn’t have taken so much out of him. 

But that isn’t important right now. 

Right now, he has a very, power-exhausted demigod in his house that he has to take care of, and there are two patented steps in taking care of a demigod who has overused their powers.

Step 1: Offer them a pillow.

Step 2: Give them a schist ton of sugar.

Percy’s wondering if he’s willing to sacrifice his pillow for Nico when he spots Mom. She’s already shoved the frying pan back on the stove and is rummaging through the kitchen drawers. A second later, she holds up a bag of big marshmallows and tosses it on the dinner table.

“Get some sugar in him,” she says, nodding towards the half-catatonic Nico. She grabs a pink mug from the top shelf and heads toward the refrigerator. “I’ll get some orange juice too.”

Best mom ever.

Nico takes a drunken step forward and whacks his head against the wall.

Before Nico can lose any more brain cells, Percy grabs him by the hoodie and sits him down at one of the empty chairs. Tearing open the bag, he pours an entire bowl of marshmallows for Nico, who groggily grabs a handful and shoves them in his mouth.

He looks like a chunky chipmunk. A very tired-looking, emo chipmunk, but a chunky chipmunk nonetheless.

Percy represses the instinct to pinch his marshmallow-stuffed cheeks and coo. A nice, pointy sword is hanging from Nico’s belt, and Percy doesn’t quite feel so inclined tonight to poke someone who wouldn’t hesitate to stab him. “You gave us a heart attack,” he scolds him instead, feeling much too like an exasperated mother. “If the shadow you used for shadow-traveling wasn’t so tiny, I would have accidentally beheaded you.”

Nico just hums in response and keeps munching on his marshmallows. He’s already looking a lot less dead. Mom slides back and pushes the now-filled pink mug across the table. “Orange juice,” she clarifies, when Nico eyes the mug. “It’ll help with your blood sugar.”

Nico downs the entire mug in one impressive chug. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Jack-” he stumbles. “I mean, Mrs. Blowfish.”

“Blofis,” Percy hisses.

Nico looks momentarily horrified. “Blofis, I mean. Sorry.”

Mom just laughs. “No worries. It took a couple of months for Percy to stop saying Blowfish.” She gestures to the table that’s still piled high with food. “Help yourself. We have a lot of leftovers.”

Nico’s gaze flickers over the blue mashed potatoes and the purple chicken. He raises an eyebrow at Percy but ends up grabbing a chipped dish and promptly begins spooning a massive amount of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

“I’ll let you boys catch up,” Mom says as she grabs Nico’s empty mug and places it in the sink. Before she leaves the kitchen, she calls out,” Don’t forget your vegetables too, Nico.” 

Surprisingly enough, Nico places a forkful of beans onto his plate after a brief moment of hesitation. Then, he proceeds to devour his food like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“Why were you so tired?” Percy asks as Nico works his way violently through a purple chicken leg. He winces when the sound of bones cracking reverberates through the kitchen. “Also, has no one fed you?”

“Spent the whole day shadow-traveling,” Nico mumbles through his food. He’s already finished his second chicken leg and is on his way to the third one. “Didn’t have time to stop and eat. Your mom is a saint, by the way.”

“Known fact of the universe,” Percy agrees. “Why were you traveling so much?”

Nico’s eyes flicker to his. When he spits out the chicken bone, he carefully says, “Delivering a lot of messages. Camp Jupiter isn’t erm… up-to-date with everything yet.”

When Percy doesn’t react, he visibly relaxes and returns to shoving his face with food. “You’ve been sleeping more,” Nico finally says through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “And you don’t look like death anymore. The trip was good for you.”

Percy shrugs. “I guess.”

Nico narrows his eyes, obviously sensing that something’s off. He shoves another spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth, then thoughtfully taps the end of his spoon against his chin. “Have you been in a car recently?”

Percy opens his mouth. Then he closes it.

A look of understanding floods into Nico’s dark eyes. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”

Percy’s chest tightens. This is a conversation that he doesn’t want to have, doesn’t want to even think about. “You still have green beans on your plate,” Percy points out instead.

Thankfully, that’s enough to distract Nico. He glances down at his plate, then glares back at Percy. Then, with his eyes still on Percy, he stabs his green beans and slowly puts them into his mouth, chewing aggressively.

“Yum,” Percy says.

Nico swallows. He makes a face. “I hate you.”

Percy reaches over and flicks Nico on the nose. Nico swats him away, looking annoyed. “Well, at least you’re not dying from the lack of vegetable vitamins.”

Nico snorts. “Vegetable vitamins?”

Percy shugs. “I don’t know what they’re called. All I know is that Burger King burgers do not have all the necessary vegetable vitamins that a living creature needs.”

“I’m the son of Hades. The god of dead things. I don’t need to eat vegetables,” Nico says flatly.

Percy tries to flick Nico on the nose again, but Nico just twists his head away and Percy misses. “If you don’t stop doing that, I’ll leave,” Nico warns. “There’s enough shadows in this cabin for me to shadow-travel away.”

Percy places both hands in the air. “Fine, fine. You should probably stay for the night anyways. You’re not in a good condition to shadow-travel.” He raises an eyebrow. “Plus, your boyfriend will curse me into singing sonnets for the rest of my life if I let you shadow-travel today.”

Too late, Nico tries to pull his face into its usual, grumpy scowl, but Percy already spots the pleased flush spreading across his face.

Aww. Now Percy really wants to pinch his cheeks.

“I suppose so,” Nico mumbles. “Will’s very… concerned about health stuff.”

Percy tries not to smirk too widely. He doesn’t want to scare Nico away before he gets the juicy details. “Not overbearing?”

“No, no, no,” Nico says hurriedly. “Not at all. I think it’s kind of sweet- oh shut up, Percy. If you make another weird sound, I will send an army of skeletons after you-”

“Summoning an army of skeletons in your state? You’re basically trying to send an angry Will after me.”

“ PERCY!”

“I bet you think it’s hot when he gets all protective,” Percy says cheerfully. “The true indicator of two lovebirds.”

Nico throws both of his hands up and makes a garbled sound that sounds suspiciously close to “I will kill you.” He shoves his now very red face into his hands as Percy just laughs maniacally, and the conversation from before is forgotten.

Percy gives Nico his bed for the night. The ground is pretty comfortable with three blankets and two pillows, so he doesn’t mind. Nico is the one who needs to shadow-travel back to Camp-Half Blood the next day, and the more rest he can get, the easier it will be for him.

A question tickles the back of Percy’s brain. He stares at the darkened ceiling, shadows stretching across the walls like black, gauzy curtains draped against windows, then looks back at Nico. Even though his eyes are closed, Percy can tell he isn’t asleep yet.

“Nico?”

A moment of silence. Then Nico plops his face into his pillow. In a very muffled voice, he mumbles, “What. I’m sleeping.”

“You’re not asleep yet,” Percy points out.

“Well, I can’t go to sleep if someone’s constantly nagging me,” Nico bites back.

There’s a moment of silence.

“So, what did you want to tell me?” Nico mutters. If possible, he sounds even grumpier, as if forcing himself to be nice was slowly draining him of what little sanity he has left.

Percy thinks back to little Nico, sacrificing fast food burgers and Happy Meals in front of the greedy eyes of a translucent Midas. He thinks back to the army of dead skeletons that Nico had summoned during the Second Titan War. He thinks back to the story that Hazel once told Percy and Frank, her story of meeting Nico in the Underworld, spindly branches stretched above them, his hand stretched out in a promise too hopeful for her to ignore.

He hesitates. He wants to frame the question the best he can.

“You can… sense people when they’ve moved on, right?”

In the darkness, he can’t see Nico’s face, but he can almost imagine the frown that he’s wearing. “From a breakup? I would think that’s more of an Aphrodite thing, Percy. Unless someone dies in the process.”

Well, that goes his attempts of sounding articulate on his first try. “I mean, from the Underworld,” Percy corrects himself.

Understanding floods Nico’s voice. “Oh, you mean when someone in Elysium decides to get reborn.” His voice gets a little tighter, a bit more strained. “I can sense that. Happened to Bianca a few years ago.”

“So when Hades- when he…”

Nico pushes himself up from the bed. He crosses his legs and places his palms on them, staring down at Percy. With an uncharacteristically gentle voice, he cuts Percy off. “Yeah. I know what you’re talking about. No, he wasn’t lying.”

“Oh.”

Nico shifts. Even in the darkness, Percy can sense that he has no idea what to say. “Erm, are you okay?” Nico asks awkwardly after a minute passes. “Like with everything?”

“Mhm.”

Nico hesitates. “What about nightmares?”

“Less,” Percy says truthfully. He feels a little cold, a little hollow. A part of him regrets asking, but he curls up tighter in his blankets and tries to remember the feeling of Annabeth’s warm hand.

“Er… okay.” Nico spends a few more minutes staring at Percy before his silhouette lies down and disappears into the blankets once more.

Silence swallows the room again. 

When Percy thinks that Nico has fallen asleep, a groggy voice suddenly mumbles, “You know, there are always friends here for you, Percy.”

“Hmm?”

“You can even talk to me, ‘f you wanna.” Nico yawns. “I’ll listen. Even ‘f you’re boring.”

The back of Percy’s eyes burns. It takes him a few seconds to find what he wants to say, but he finally whispers a quiet, “Thank you.”

Nico’s snores greet him back.

Day 7

Mom insists that Nico stay for the rest of the morning. She orders Percy and Nico to finish making the eggs while she flips the rest of the blueberry pancakes that are sizzling on the pan. Nico doesn’t complain. In fact, Percy catches him eyeing the pancakes still browning over the stove with something that might be called enthusiasm.

He has to hide a grin. There’s no doubt that his mom will try sneaking in a few more blueberry pancakes with Nico before he leaves, and he can imagine Nico reluctantly accepting the paper bag filled with food, looking in all the world like a grouchy high-schooler still forced to bring their home-packed lunch to school.

He excuses himself early from the breakfast table. Nico is still scarfing down his blueberry pancakes, and Percy doesn’t feel like waiting for Nico to finish the ten pancakes left on his plate. He hasn’t seen Annabeth at all yesterday, and he’s feeling a little fidgety as if somehow, that means she isn’t going to show up today.

As he’s walking out the door, he misses both curious looks that Nico and his mom trade with each other.

Contrary to his thoughts, Annabeth does show up.

Today, he finds Annabeth swinging her legs from a small dock, a mile away from the cabin. He joins her on the wooden planks, feet brushing the surface of the ocean water. Even though he can’t get wet, he can still feel the liquid coolness swirling around his toes, like running a finger through the condensation gathered on the surface of an iced glass. 

“Did Jake make you a new knife?” Percy suddenly asks. “The Hephaestus Cabin is always so cool. I swear, they can make anything.”

Annabeth’s legs are folded neatly against herself. She’s staring out in the ocean again, head propped on top of her legs. The Celestial knife usually hanging from her belt lies next to her. Its bronze surface glints in the sun, a contrast to the dull wood underneath.

“No,” she says.

Percy frowns a little. He runs a hand through his hair, going through all the places in his head. “Or did you get it from the Camp Half-Blood armory?”

Annabeth just hums. She doesn’t seem to want to answer Percy’s question. 

He ends up dropping the topic. “Well, I’m just glad you’re using a weapon you’re most comfortable with.” He shrugs. “It looks more natural too. You using a dagger, I mean. Even if you can kick butt with your sword. I’m just more used to seeing you with a dagger, I guess.”

For some reason, that’s what brings a reaction out of her. She glances sharply at him, eyes searching. But when he just stares back at her in confusion, the edge in her gaze smooths.

“Yeah,” she says, leaning backward and staring at the sky. “I guess that’s what you would be more used to.”

Percy and Annabeth are walking on the beach when they end up meeting Nico and Mom. Both Nico and his mom are whispering to each other, but as soon as they see Percy and Annabeth, they abruptly stop talking.

Percy grins and waves. “Nice to see you out here too.”

Strangely enough, Nico averts his gaze and mumbles a hello while his mom awkwardly lifts a hand. Both of them look guilty like they had just been caught with an entire hand in the blue cookie jar back in the apartment. 

For some odd reason, neither of them greets Annabeth. 

Then, realization floods Percy’s mind. “Schist, I forgot to mention that Annabeth was visiting too,” Percy says aloud.

Both Nico and his mom stiffen. A horrified expression flickers across Annabeth’s face. Percy frowns at the three of them, who all are avoiding his gaze now. “Did I miss something?”

No one responds.

An idea pops into his mind. Percy snaps his fingers. “I bet you knew that Annabeth was here already and decided to mess with me,” he says. “Isn’t that right?”

Nico turns to him. His eyes are wide, too wide. “Annabeth’s… with you?”

Percy’s eyes narrow. He’s not sure what Nico’s trying to accomplish. “If you’re trying to be funny, this isn’t funny. The joke’s over.”

“I’m serious,” Nico says. His shoulders are stiff. “Where’s Annabeth?”

Percy gestures wildly to Annabeth, who’s still hovering around them. He doesn’t understand what Nico’s trying to do. He knows that Nico should be able to see Annabeth from where he’s standing. “What do you mean, where? She’s right here.”

His mom’s voice is careful. “Annabeth’s gone, sweetie. It’s been only a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? A few weeks? From what? ”

His mom winces. “The car crash. The accident. When someone’s car slipped on a patch of ice and rammed into the car that you and Annabeth were in… do you not remember?” She hesitates. “I don’t- I don’t want to bring it up again. It nearly killed you - oh gods, I can’t-”

Nico places an arm over Mom’s shoulder. “That’s why I shadow-traveled you both here instead of having you drive,” he says, cutting her off gently. “Change of scenery-”

In the car, there is so much blood, too much blood, splattered across the gray seats, splashed against the cracked windshield. In the background, ambulance sirens are wailing and blue and white and red lights flash in the air, but all Percy can see is her limp body in the driver’s seat, and it can’t be, she’s still alive, she has to be-

“How can you both say that when she’s standing right in front of us?” Percy’s voice is growing louder and louder. He doesn’t understand the way that his mom and Nico are looking at him. Annabeth’s here, she’s been with him for the past few days-

A stretcher. He’s on a stretcher, but nothing makes sense, because the girl with the blonde hair next to him is also on a stretcher and she isn’t breathing and people are yelling and running around, and someone slams wires down on her chest and there’s a spark of lightning and the body twitches like a meat doll jerked by strings-

“I dragged you from Olympus before you got yourself killed,” Nico continues as if Percy didn’t speak. “You marched right into the throne room and started yelling at the gods. It was only when Hades told you that she decided to be reborn again when you… you started screaming.”

No. No. NononONONOnono-

“That doesn’t make sense.” Percy backs up, shaking his head. 

He looks to Annabeth for help, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she just stares down at her feet. “Annabeth, you know that they’re wrong,” he pleads. “Tell them that there’s a mistake, there has to be. Please.”

She finally looks at him, and her face is resigned, and something’s wrong, Annabeth looking resigned is something he never thought he would see; she’s wrong, they all are wrong -

“Percy,” Nico hisses. He’s staring at something behind Percy. “I need you to calm down.”

His words don’t register. The frantic churning of his gut intensifies. Behind him, the ocean tugs at the strange feeling growing in him and instinctively, he pulls and pulls, and in the corner of his eye, the wall of water behind him grows and grows-

A hand presses down on his shoulder. 

He twists around. Annabeth is gazing at him. “You’re shaking,” she whispers, her hand heavy on his shoulder, and he swallows and concentrates on the warm pressure.

The enormous wall of water behind Percy collapses back into the ocean. 

A sudden emptiness washes over him. The strange feeling in his chest crumbles, as the power of the ocean swirls around his body vanishes. He resists the urge to retch from the bile rising in his throat. Instead, he places his forehead on Annabeth’s shoulder.

She smells like lemon soap, as always. He breathes in the comforting scent. After a moment of hesitation, she reaches behind him and begins rubbing his back in light circles.

When Percy looks up, Nico stares at him like he’s seen a ghost. His mom chokes back a sob.

They never once look at Annabeth.

“When did you start seeing her?”

“A week ago.”

“For how many days? Once? Twice?”

A pause. “Almost every day,” Percy mumbles, voice low.

Nico winces. His mom flinches as if she’s been slapped. Percy digs his nails into his palms, trying to ignore their expressions. He tries to gather courage from Annabeth walking beside him. Even though they’re heading back to the cabin, Annabeth still trails behind them.

“That’s a lot of days,” his mom whispers.

Percy just nods. He still feels like he’s in a weird, alternate reality. As, if he somehow manages to open his eyes, he would find himself back in his bed. But no matter how hard he tries to shake himself awake, he can’t seem to wake up from this terrible, terrible nightmare. 

Both his mom and Nico blur before his vision and he has to look away. Instead, he glances at Annabeth. Ironically, she’s the only one who feels real in this strange world. He waits for her response, holding his breath, hoping -

“I’m sorry, Percy.” Annabeth’s voice is quiet. “They’re right. I’ve been dead for a few weeks now.”

“Where is he?” Percy says calmly, too calmly. 

Even when the wind around him shrieks, his words still pierce through. He can feel his hair whipping around in the storm that’s building up around him, but he can’t care less. Riptide is swinging from his fingers, and from the sudden tension in the throne room, he knows that the gods also know that he isn’t going to be the meek sheep anymore. 

The gods look at him as if he’s crazy. He feels like he’s going crazy. 

“Where is Hades?” he repeats.

Familiar sea-green eyes stare back at him, wide and horrified. “Perseus,” his father says softly. He reaches out, his hand slow and steady, like trying to tame a rabid animal that accidentally is let loose. “I know that you’re suffering but-”

“I DON’T CARE!” Percy suddenly roars. The gods freeze and it’s a little funny how they shrink away from him, the supposedly all-powerful, the supposedly all-knowing beings, sitting atop their marbled thrones. 

He forces in another breath. When he speaks again, it comes out even quieter, dripping with poison. “I played all your little games that you gave me. You needed me to go on quests; I went on them. You needed me to save the world; I saved it. And all I wanted was to live a happy life with Annabeth, and THIS IS WHAT I GET?”

The wind howls even louder. Concrete is ripped up from the ground and broken shards of glass are pulled into the vortex that was swirling around Percy. Even the gods are buffeted back into their seats. 

“Perseus Jackson,” Zeus growls. For some reason, he does not attempt to reach for his master lightning bolt lying against his throne. His voice is more tired than angry, more resigned than arrogant. “Stop this nonsense. The gods have no power over who is already dead and gone.”

“Not if I make a deal with Hades,” Percy breathes. “I’ll do anything for her. Anything, I swear. I’ll do the same thing that Orpheus did, and march down to the Underworld- I’ll go through Tartarus again if I could just get her back again-”

“Percy,” Athena says quietly. Her eyes, usually so cool, are unnaturally soft. He hates how understanding they look. He hates how much her eyes look like Annabeth’s. “She’s gone now. I’m sorry.”

Percy slams Riptide against the marble. The ground begins shaking. “Listen to me,” he hisses, and his voice comes out cracked and shattered. “Just give me Hades, and then I’ll leave, I swear, I’ll make any type of deal with him and then I can have her back-”

“It’s too late.” Hades’ voice appears behind him. When Percy whirls around, he meets black eyes, as black as the darkness that suffocates the Underworld. Those eyes stare back at him with an unmistakable tinge of rare pity.

His throat squeezes on itself. “What do you mean, it’s too late,” Percy snarls. “It’s never too late for anything. You’re the King of the Underworld-”

“She’s not in Elysium anymore,” Hades cuts in. “She went through the River Lethe. She decided to be reborn.”

There’s a moment of terrible, terrible silence. Then, Riptide clatters to the ground.

Percy sinks to his knees and screams.

End of Week 1