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Orion’s fur wasn’t soft, but its smoothness was calming. Annabeth leaned over him, lulled by his breathing and the steady thump of his heart—the same warmth that had kept her safe on countless hunts. The moon silvered her cloak and the huntress’ tiara braided into her hair.
She lingered at the camp edge, shoulders tight, scanning the dark trees. Her body craved the cold wind, ragged breaths, the burn in her limbs — a chase that swallowed knowledge and left only motion. There, in the midst of nothing, she could just howl with wolves that were now a part of her too. Maybe it was about the forest freedom or maybe about escape.
If not for Orion’s limp, she would be begging to leave — to be somewhere else.
“He is calling for you again,” Daphnis voice was harsh, unwelcoming but not toward Annabeth. She was not even looking at her, standing behind her back. Her maiden sister hated to be the bearer of bad news.
“It is fine. I will be okay,” Annabeth tried to sound nonchalant, Orion nervously booped in her hand with its nose.
Daphnis sighed and started slightly tapping her leg, “Let me send backup and wolves with you. Just in case.”
“He will not hurt me.”
“Maybe we should hurt him then,” Daphnis’s whisper died under Annabeth’s palm. Annabeth’s fingers tightened; Daphnis’s eyes went wide.
“We are not in the position to threaten. Do you remember that?”
“So the Reaper, all powerful Percy Jackson, Kronos' lapdog, can call on you whenever he feels like it, and we should just watch you go?” Daphnis spatted, moving Annabeth’s palm away.
“Yes, that’s exactly what we are going to do. If he says jump, I jump. If he says bring the fruit basket, I do.”
“… and then wallow in misery when he is done with you?” Daphnis crossed her arms following Annabeth who was picking her bow and arrow from the ground.
“I wallow in misery all the time. After, during or before his visits.”
Orion got up standing by Annabeth side, shaking the grass and dirt from its sides.
“I will take Orion with me. Okay? For moral support,” Annabeth smiled, lacing her fingers into the silver fur.
Daphnis looked at the wolf skeptically, ”He is limping. Take Nox.”
“No, she bit me once.”
Daphnis softened, “No second chances with Annabeth Chase.”
“No whatsoever, “ Annabeth confirmed proudly, tilting her chin up.
“Send Orion to us if you need anything,” Daphnis sounded defeated, ”The Reaper’s portal is just up that hill.”
Annabeth smiled sympathetically and hugged her sister, squeezing her tenderly, trying to overpower sadness that was clenching their hearts.
The dark crevasse, the portal for her, was opened at the usual spot. Annabeth patted Orion’s side, sighing to the scowl that the wolf was already wearing.
And they went in it. As obedient as prisoners.
Location was the same and Annabeth felt like scowling too. Orion strode to the edge of the woods with Annabeth looking at him with jealously. She wished she could go too.
In the stillness of the night the water was calling, and she responded mesmerized by tender singing of the waves. Dangerously she stopped too close, barely keeping her boots dry.
She wanted to take them off, feel the pebbles under her feet. Maybe even go into the water to feel numbing cold. But water was his domain. It wasn’t safe and it would never be safe.
So she stayed at the brink looking at her dimmed reflection, waiting for his reflection to stand next to hers.
It didn’t take long. She didn’t hear him come, but in a second he rose next to her, chilling her, pushing her to step away. Why did he have to look the same? Luke was unrecognizable by the end, but Percy was still the same. Same hair, same skin, same eyes. Titans alliance went through him and didn’t change him. At least not from outside.
She guessed they looked like the same age again — Artemis had lost the power that kept the maidens frozen. Annabeth hated that they were coming full circle, aligning with each other again.
“The Reaper,” she acknowledged bowing her head a little.
“I asked you not to call me that.”
Why was his voice also the same? Almost warm, almost like she could still hope he would say anything to make it all better, ”Okay….Percy. You wanted to talk?”
He nodded, stepped back, and sat on the shore. His hand patted the spot beside him.
Annabeth took off her cloak, spreading it on the ground, and putting as much distance between them as would go unnoticeable. After all, she was bound to respond, but he was not entitled to her affection. Not anymore.
“I am listening,” she said quietly.
“How are you?” his eyes were on the sea.
Annabeth titled her head begging moon for patience. As usual they were starting from far away. ”I am good.”
“Your wolf is limping.” He said. Annabeth knew that he probably noticed a grey beast circling in the forest. She didn’t think he would notice the limp though.
“Hunting accident. He will be fine in a couple of days. Why did you ask to meet here again? I can go to your residence if necessary.”
“I like it here.”
“At the graveyard of Half Blood camp?” She asked and regretted it right away. If he says jump, I jump. Not talk back. Hold it back, Annabeth. For late gods, hold it back.
He ignored her, still staring somewhere far ahead, and continued:
“This is where you tried to stop me, from leaving the camp. Do you remember?”
Annabeth wanted to curl inward. Of course, she remembered. This was the reason why she didn’t want to come here, to have another reminder of what happened.
“Yes, this is where I failed.”
He put hands on his knees and she finally noticed that he stopped wearing that warrior outfit that all of the Kronos Counsil members were wearing. How strange that it was so easy for her to see him as he was. Jeans, t shirt, jacket….As they were.
“It was supposed to happen like that. And when you stepped away, it was just prophecy fulfilled. ”
“Nothing was supposed to happen. You chose it to happen,” She said before she could stop herself. Annabeth, you are overstepping, he is pulling you into this conversation again.
“I did what was right,”he clenched his fists,” I tried to save…at least someone. You were not there. Tyson died, Beckendorf died, Silena, Clarisse… Gods didn’t care. They were fighting for saving their damned castles. And then Grover disappeared, and I wanted it to stop.”
“Did titans make everything better? Did they help find Grover? Is this your dreamworld?” She was spiraling, taking a fist full of pebbles, searching for obedient Annabeth that was ought to keep her mouth shut.
“It is …peace. And maybe it will be better when I step away.”
“What?” Pebbles fell from her hand.
“I shouldn’t be the one holding this together.”
“Are you serious now?”
“I am.”
Annabeth wanted to scream in rage, “Step away? Step away? You won — you gave him exactly what he wanted. Most of the gods are dead, the titans run the world, and you're on the Kronos Council — the only one with the decency not to turn us into slaves. If it weren't for you, seventy-five percent of mortals would be gone, not twenty-five. If it weren't for you, the campers would be ashes and the titans would have swallowed the whole world. How long, without you, they will be just entertained playing “people”?”
He scowled bitterly dropping his gaze, “You are talking as if I am some kind of a hero.”
“You’re a lesser evil. You failed us — you failed…” She stopped herself from saying "me". Not now. “But at least you spared people and demigods. Alison would have killed everyone; she still wants to. I didn’t even know Camp Jupiter existed before she destroyed it.” She sank to her knees, forcing her voice steady. “Take a vacation. Pick a country to rule. But you’re in this until you die.”
“Alison is weak.”
“She is weak because you are there. It was you who turned the last remaining gods. You put Artemis to her knees.”
“Artemis joined us.” He corrected.
She turned to him sharply, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. He didn’t look right away. His guilt didn’t feel sweet — but she savored it anyway. “How clever of you to forget that you threatened to kill all of her maidens,” she said. “Yes—she kneeled and joined to spare those she loved. Do you even remember what that’s like? To sacrifice yourself for someone? I thought you did. I thought that was who you were.”
She held his gaze until he finally met hers — hard, scorching.
“That’s what I did. I sacrificed. I never wanted… all of this.” He stood, then sank back down, voice calmer. “I did what I had to—like you said. I spared people to save whoever was left. There was no one left to make that decision. You joined the maidens. You didn’t stay by my side.”
“I was there. We both were.” She couldn’t stop herself. They’d been over this six times; each replay felt like drowning. Talking felt like shouting into an abyss.
“We both know it’s not the same. You left us before I did anything.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing. If I’d gone, you wouldn’t have had to choose between me and burning Olympus.” Saying it felt like a mistake, but the regret was real — not for the Hunt, not anymore, but for having trusted her certainty. Her fatal flaw had done its work.
He sighed and lay back, eyes closed. “Olympus burned anyway.”
“No.” She spat the word. “You burned it down. The Reaper, Kronos’ berserk—”
“Stop. Please.”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone? If I annoy you that much, execute me as a traitor. Kill me and be done.”
He tilted his head, palm to the faint silver scar on his neck. “I could ask you the same thing. You could have finished it then. But you didn’t.”
Annabeth sighed. She remembered everything—too clearly.
They had been on the stairwell: him in Kronos colors, her in the maidens’ robes. His eyes were unfocused; blood smeared the marble stairs. Her hand had been at his throat, trying to stem the flow while ambrosia forced its way into his mouth. Prayer had been on her lips, begging him not to die.
“I wasn’t going to let my friend die. I thought you were still my friend,” she said, unable to look at him. Both images—warrior and dying boy—were tragic in different ways.
“I was,” he replied.
“It’s all so pointless… I’m not resisting this new world, I’m not plotting. I just want to run the Hunt in peace while I can. You can be the leader you want. You can have everything you want.”
She heard him move and sit back. “I can’t have everything I want.”
The warmth of his shoulder was almost brushing hers. She knew that tone, she heard that plea once before.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I said "no" last time. You’ll never get a "yes" from me. You want to run this new world? Fine. I can’t choose not to be Kronos’ prisoner, but I can choose not to stand by your side when you destroy everything we loved.”
She edged away, savoring the sting of her words and not caring about the consequences.
“You’re too impertinent for a prisoner,” he said.
She looked at him hearing familiar word. Here it was again. This face, the boy who was irritating her mother, sending Medusa's head to the Olympus.
“I learned it from a boy I once knew,” she said.
The corners of his mouth twitched, a half-smile like a memory. So many tears had already been shed; she thought there was nothing left, and yet her heart fluttered just a little.
She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to call him Seaweed brain, to tackle him and shout every accusation she felt—how he’d ruined everything, how much she hated him, and how impossible it was to truly hate him.
“Could I ask you for something? As an ex friend, not as your enemy.”
She wanted to say “no”, but there was something in his voice that held her. His hesitation was too spacious, his vulnerability was too loud. Daphnis might have been right. He might have not even resisted if they tried to kill him right now.
“Maybe.”
“Could you go into the water with me? I want to show you how the sea bottom looks like during the full moon.”
Annabeth thought about it. At least he wasn’t asking her to become his lieutenant again.
“Okay,” she stood up taking her boots off. She left her sleeveless parka on the pebbles and then even put tiara there. She hoped no one would have found it offensive or … impertinent.
Orion whimpered somewhere close.
“I am fine, Orion,” she said loudly.
Percy looked back, dropping his jacket and boots next to hers.
“He is worried,” he stated.
“When I am with you, they all are,” she barely resisted hugging herself when a cold wind blew.
Percy shook his head, “I will never hurt you. They should know that.”
Annabeth wanted to object, but she knew it to be true. It never made things easier.
Water was cold, terribly cold. Annabeth started to shiver as soon as it reached her shins. Orion howled behind them.
‘Don’t worry! I will be back soon. I am safe!” She called back trying to keep her voice even.
“As soon as we’re fully in, it’ll be dry—just a bit more.”
“This is slow torture.” She complained as the water reached her chest.
“Hand?” He asked, holding his out.
In the moonlight he looked like a god — the sea god who once ruled this place. She slipped her hand into his. The next instant he pulled, and the world tipped; a vortex dragged them down as if it were the old days. How long had it been? Five years. They hadn’t been that close in half a decade, and that familiarity made her feel unbearably weak — like coming home, like waking in her cabin, like hearing his laugh, like embracing someone who had come back from the dead.
The sea floor was mostly mud that clung and smelled of salt and old iron, but Percy hadn’t brought her for that. Above their bubble the water was impossibly clear, luminous in the moonlight. Annabeth suspected Percy had some hand in that.
“It is beautiful,” Annabeth admitted. She was feeling Percy draining the water from her clothes. While they were standing in the giant bubble under water.
“Are you still cold?”
“A little. But it is okay. Is that what you wanted to show me?”
“Yes… there is also something that I wanted to tell you.”
“Do,” she said quietly, bracing for anything and everything unpleasant that might come.
“For what’s worth, I should have …known better… prophecy, no prophecy. I should have done everything differently,” he took a deep breath, ”And I had a dream….”
Annabeth didn’t want to gasp when he continued, she didn’t want to look at him asking more and more questions, as a damn that finally broke through. She didn’t want to see what she saw in the face that she was trying to forget. She didn’t want to hold to the pearl that he was leaving her with, before seeing her off to the portal.
And yet she did…
Even going back with Orion to the camp, she did all of those things.
The wolf was happily bumping into her side. The winter cloak was warm; she probably still smelled of sea. Of him.
Her mind raced, leaping from thought to thought, weighing choices. Her feet carried her toward the Hunt camp, but she never reached it.
Artemis blocked the path: rigid, composed, absolute.
“So… it happened?” Annabeth asked, not surprised.
“It always happens like that,” Artemis said.
“I was still thinking it through,” Annabeth argued.
“No. You weren’t. You already decided, Annabeth. Your hunt is over.”
Silver moon called, but it was so weak. Annabeth should have seen it coming. The tiara came off too easily. Saying goodbye to Orion did not. She hugged him until his fur was wet with her tears. She couldn’t take him. Not this time.
“He’ll be fine,” Artemis promised. “We had a good run, Annabeth Chase.”
“Am I… doing the right thing?” Annabeth asked, voice small.
Artemis shrugged. “Second chances aren’t my specialty, but for what it’s worth, you always made the most of your choices — even the bad ones.”
Annabeth nodded. It was likely the best she’d get.
“We had a good run, Lady Artemis.” She watched them go, following with her eyes as they returned to the camp she’d left.
The pearl sat warm in her palm, alive and thudding like a heartbeat—like hers.
She dropped it. The ground swallowed the light and folded her away.
Back to the sea. Back to the shore. Back to the decision that was so hard and so easy to make.
I had a dream, he said.
She walked the wet sand toward the dock, the ship already waiting for her.
I had a dream, he said, standing on the sea bottom, looking through the water to the moon, warmed by cold silver.
She thought she was not doing second chances, like she was thinking she was only demigod, like she was thinking she couldn’t care so much that even holding her dying enemy she wished him to survive. She thought too much.
I had a dream, he said, and I saw him, after so many years I saw him again.
She climbed aboard, neither hesitant nor afraid, suddenly thirteen again: on a quest with friends, trying to save someone important, trying to prove she could be better than what gods wanted them to be.
“Are you ready?” Percy asked, keeping the ship steady at the dock—giving her a sliver of time to step back.
He didn’t need to wait. Still, she let him linger in doubt for a beat.
“We take care of our own,” she said, the line she hadn’t said in years falling into place.
It felt unbearably right to be by his side again. After so many years, it felt right.
So she let it be. Let herself be.
I had a dream, he said, and I saw Grover again.
I know where to find him.
Again.
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