Chapter Text
Percy was at Rachel's place when Grover appeared, literally floating in front of him.
"Percy? Hey— hear me? Gods, why— Bad signal HEY! PERCY! DO YOU HEAR ME?" Percy gave Rachel an amused look, and she turned back to keep going with her painting.
"Hey, Grover. Yeah, I can hear you and see you." He said, holding back a laugh.
Grover looked a little frantic and nervous, so he was his normal self.
"Good. I don't know what's going on with the signal in these things." He mumbled something else, and then a door closed and opened, a slam, and Grover jumped. "Sorry, so I gotta ask you something, but please don't panic."
Percy was bathed in a dread feeling as he heard the words, finally paying attention to the feeling that Grover was projecting through the empathy link, and it was complete and absolute panic.
"What happened?"
"Have you seen Annabeth these last few days?"
Percy's heart sinks to his fucking feet.
"What?"
"Have you seen her? Today or yesterday? In the last twenty-four hours, to be specific?" Grover's hand went to his horns and started picking them.
"What? No, I haven't seen Annabeth since—" since last summer, but that sounded so fucking depressive to say, like with everything he was already dealing with, Percy couldn't actually say it. "I haven't."
It was like he sobered up as soon as Grover's face crumbled a little more at his answer.
"Oh, okay. That's fine." His voice comes out higher, anxious.
"Grover, what's going on? Where is Annabeth?"
"It's nothing yet, don't—"
"I swear, Grover, if you say 'don't worry,' what's going on?" Percy would later apologize for how harshly he had cut him off and the commanding tone he had used.
Grover was about to speak when Clarisse appeared behind him.
"She didn't get to the storage," Clarisse told Grover, then noticed Percy. "Jackson, tell me you have seen—"
"He hasn't," Grover said before she could finish.
Clarisse's face hardened, and she turned to Grover. They shared a look, and Percy wished, instead of all the water powers he's got, that teleportation were an option.
"Clarisse, Grover, what the hell is going on?" He finally snapped.
They turned back at him, but both hesitated, like they were sizing him up.
"We can't find Annabeth."
"WHAT?"
And because the world hated Percy, the call fell out, and he was left staring at Rachel, who was also looking at him. But he didn't see Rachel, not really. He saw absolutely nothing.
"Percy, is everything okay?"
"Do you have a dragma?" Percy was already standing up, looking through his pockets, and he had nothing but Ripetide, and his wallet came out.
"No, why would I— No," Percy opened the door as Rachel stood up from the floor. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to camp."
"Wait, now? Does your mom know?"
"I'll let her know in the way."
"My father will be here in like two hours. If we wait, we can use—"
"I can't right now, Rachel."
He didn't even stop to say goodbye to her before he opened the front door, and he was out before she could speak again.
When Percy was finally on the train, he stood for the whole journey, right foot tapping down and actually hating the guy who was trying to sing "Livin' on a Prayer" for some coins, when he thought about how he didn't have a single fucking dragma on him and how Grover hadn't tried to reach him, again.
That probably had more to do with the shit-ass signal that'd been going around with the Iris messages than anything else. But still, Percy bit his nails down, and his hair was a mess when he got to his apartment.
"Mom? Are you home?" He slammed in, not even bothering to close the door behind him, already walking to his room.
"Percy? Are you okay? What's wrong?"
His mom and Paul came out of her room.
"I'm going to camp."
"Okay. That's fine. For the whole break?"
"No, well, I don't know yet. I just—" Percy looked around, trying to find the cellphone his mom gave him, an old thing that didn't even have an entrance for headphones.
He found it under some clothes on the floor, and when he was about to walk out of his room, his mom stopped him, hands on his shoulders.
"Percy, what's going on?"
"Annabeth's missing." His voice trembled a little when he said it
"What?"
"I don't know. Grover called me, and he asked me if I had seen her since yesterday. But I haven't, and then they said she was missing. Mom, I—"
He was hyperventilating. He couldn't breathe, his eyes were watering, and he was pretty sure he was seconds away from a panic attack.
"Okay, okay, baby. Breath. Okay. In. Out." She took his hands and brought them over her heart. Percy couldn't breathe for a few seconds until his heart slowed to a point his mother accepted, even though it was still in his ears, pounding anderasing every thought, but 'Annabeth's gone.'
Paul appeared behind her again, with his glasses and the car keys in his hand, dangling them over his mom's shoulder.
"Let's go. I can get you there in less than an hour."
And that.
That was a fucking promise.
The three of them rushed to the car, and Paul made it out of the city in record time. Not even a monster caught them before they were out on the highway, but a bad feeling settled on his stomach when he thought about it.
Percy fumbled with his phone, trying to get it on.
The car was dead silent, with only his mother giving directions on where to go. Percy was uncomfortable. His clothes felt itchy on his skin, and he had a knot in his throat since he started to breathe normally again.
Once the little screen lit up, Percy hurriedly pressed the buttons to write down the number.
There were only two numbers saved on his phone. Paul's and his mom's. He had learned Rachel's once, but he forgot it as soon as he used it, and he got right the one in the Big House one out of five times, because there were way too many sixes and nines that Percy couldn't bother to decipher.
The only other number Percy knew by heart was the one that was on the Athena's cabin entrance. Every cabin had a phone line, and there was a phone hanging right next to the door. Annabeth always complained when he would call too late, because she would have to sit on the floor, next to the door, for hours.
It had been months since he had dialed that number. The first time on his new phone.
It rang for way too long, long enough that Percy thought no one would answer. But before it went to voicemail, someone picked up.
"Hi, Annabeth, is that you?" A young girl's voice said, too excitedly and hopeful.
Percy swallowed his whole lunch down all over again.
"Hey, no. It's Percy." It came out hoarse, and his heart dropped at the disappointed sigh he heard on the line.
"Oh, hey, Percy. It's been a while since you've called."
"Yeah, sorry about it, Poppy."
Poppy was the youngest camper at camp. She had gotten there a little after the quest to Mt. Tamalpais. She wasn't a daughter of Athena; she was actually unclaimed, or, until what he knew, she still was. But instead of putting her in the Hermes cabin, Chiron asked Annabeth if she could stay with them.
"You were a little younger than her when you got here. You would be the best for her." He had said at the time.
Annabeth didn't even hesitate to welcome her to her cabin. Poppy had followed her around for most of the summer, even wanting to go with them to the labyrinth, just because it was Annabeth's quest and she wanted to help.
She was a sweet kid and liked Percy just because of Annabeth.
"Is Bronte—"
"Have you seen Annabeth?"
"No. Hey, can you—"
"We can't find her. She was supposed to go to the city and back, but she hasn't come back since tomorrow, and everybody is worried. The camp's a mess." She whispered the last part into the phone.
Percy couldn't believe the most information came from a ten-year-old.
"Do you know why she had to come to the city?"
"She had some errands to run for camp, get some stuff from someone, I think—"
"Who are you talking to?" Percy could hear a voice ask Poppy, cutting her short.
It was Bronte.
"Percy."
"Hand me to Bronte, Poppy. Please."
"Okay. You should call Annabeth more often. She misses you."
Percy forced his eyes closed and brushed his face, frustrated and on the verge of a manic attack.
"Percy?"
"Bronte." He said to pursepuly. "Hey, please tell me something. I'm at a blank here."
"You don't know?"
"No, Grover called me like an hour ago, but the call fell, and they haven't reached me again. What did they mean by Annabeth's missing?"
"They called you just now?" She asked, confused, like the sole concept of Percy learning this just now was stupid, which it was. Thank you very much.
But what was with people ignoring everything important Percy asked, like what the fuck happened to Annabeth?
"Bronte."
"Yeah. She offered to go to the city. She had been in contact with one of our graduated brothers who lives in the city. He had things in storage that would be useful for the war. But between meeting with him and getting to the storage, something happened cause she never made it there."
"When did you find out this?"
"Today. She didn't get to camp yesterday, but we thought she had stayed in her dorm. She wasn't sure whether she would be back or not. But today we woke up, and the guy in the storage who had this number called, asking if she was coming today." Percy's lip trembled, and as they got deeper and deeper into the woods, he could only see blurs of green from how fast Paul was going. "We haven't been able to reach her since."
Before Percy could speak, the car came to a halt so hard that he almost flew out of his seat if he hadn't held on to the back of the seat.
"We are here."
"What was that?"
"I'm coming to the Big House."
"You are here?"
"Just got here."
"Already? Gods. Okay, we will wait for you."
Then she hung up.
"Thank you for driving him."
Percy was already halfway out of the car when his mom called for him, rolling down her window.
"Promise me you'll be sensible about this."
Percy took a second to decide what to say that would leave his mother less worried than she probably already was.
Whatever he said had to be a lie to accomplish this.
He jerked his head once.
He was scared that if he spoke, he would actually throw up.
"Take care of your friends, but please take care of yourself too. One cannot come without the other." Her hand went to his cheek and caressed it softly, almost tickling him.
He swallowed.
It had been a long time since Percy last cried. Not that long ago, but long enough that he forgot the reason for it. He refused to cry right then, standing outside his step-father's car while his mother tried to make him worry about himself when the only thought he had in his head since Grover called him was Annabeth.
He had bitten his bottom lip raw since then, and he wasn't about to cry his eyes raw, too.
He nodded again, softly this time, a little more sincere.
She let him go then, after kissing her hand and pressing it to his forehead.
The trail to camp had never felt longer than that day. Percy half-jogged, half-sprinted up the hill once he saw Thalia's tree get into view.
The camp, as Poppy had said, was a mess.
There was not a single activity going on, only people running from side to side, screaming things from one cabin to another, and disappearing into them. Even though it was beginning to be spring and the heat of New York was already unbearable, the sun wasn't shining inside camp, and there were too many clouds and wind that tousled your hair.
You could hear a lot of noise too, hammers hitting metal, and people shouting instructions about measurements, and the smell of burnt metal.
When he was closer to the Big House, he could see a lot of people going in and out of it.
Once people started to notice Percy, nobody greeted him, but instead chose to move out of his way so he could reach the Big House faster.
His face was set in a hard frown, and his chest was heaving from the run he had done to get there. His shirt was moving with the wind, as if it were going to rain soon.
Percy didn't stop to consider anything of this.
He stepped into the Big House.
The inside was chaos.
Clarisse, Katie, Bronte, and Grover were standing around a table where a map lay; they were arguing about something. Chiron was standing right next to them, observing with his glasses on and a frown on his face. To the side stood Silena on an Iris Message that was glitching every once in a while. On the other side of the message was a group of campers walking around what looked like New York, like they were in a scout haunt. On the other side of the table, Travis and Connor did exactly the same but with their own calls.
So, the Big House was a loud mess.
Percy wasn't sure he was there to fix that.
Nobody turned to look at him when he entered. Clarisse and Katie kept discussing something over the map, and Bronte and Grover were marking a route on it, crossing out others.
Two kids entered out of nowhere and walked to where the messages were being held and handed them a paper which haddifferent addresses for each call.
They ordered each group to go to a different part of the city.
"What the hell is going on?" Percy spoke up, getting to the table and looking around at everyone when they looked up.
He didn't scream, but he used the same voice he used once to give them a pep talk to go fight against Luke's army.
Silena was the first to look up, her brows pulling together.
"...Percy?"
A couple of heads turned. Then more. Conversations didn’t fully die, but they lowered, uncertain, and distracted.
Grover froze mid-mark over the map.
Bronte straightened slightly.
Chiron lifted his gaze.
"How do you even know?" Katie asked, frowning. She sounded thrown off, like seeing Percy there made no sense.
Percy blinked once, jaw tightening.
"Grover called me," he said, already impatient. "The call cut. I came straight here."
Grover flinched a little at that, like he hadn’t expected to be named.
"We didn’t—" he started, then stopped, glancing at the others. "We didn’t think—"
"Yeah, well, now I’m here," Percy cut in, sharper this time. "So, someone tell me what you’re doing."
Silena’s Iris Message crackled behind them. A voice from the other side asked something about an address, but no one answered.
Percy stepped closer to the table, eyes dropping to the map.
It was a map of New York. Detailed and huge. It got all the districts lined up, a whole paper that covered from camp to his house. It had circles, and crossed-out routes, and too many marks that made Percy shift.
His stomach twisted.
"You’re splitting up," he said, more to himself than to them. Then louder: "Based on what?"
Clarisse exhaled through her nose, dragging a hand down her face before pointing at the map.
"Last confirmed contact," she said. "Here." Her finger tapped a spot. "From there, nothing. No monsters reported, no witnesses worth anything."
"That’s not true," Bronte added quickly, stepping forward. "There was a mortal who said he saw someone matching her description near the subway entrance, but—"
Percy’s eyes flicked between them, processing too fast, not enough.
"Who was she meeting?" he asked.
"One of our brothers. Alumni. He has supplies in storage—we needed them." Bronte said.
"And he never saw her," Percy said.
"Yes, I already told you. He saw her, he gave her the key for the storage, and then between that time, she never made it there."
"And who was waiting for her at the storage?"
"I don't know. Some guy named Ryan was the one who called and told us she never got there. He was still waiting to see if she was going today."
Percy went still.
"And you sent her alone?"
The question cut through the room cleanly.
Bronte blinked. "She wasn’t supposed to—"
"She went alone," Percy repeated, sharper than before. His eyes moved across them, landing on no one for too long. "To the city. For something this important. In the states of the imminent war that's approaching, that's led by a guy who wants her dead, and no one thought that was a bad idea?"
"Percy—" Katie started.
"No, I’m asking," he cut in, not raising his voice, but not backing down either. "Because I’m trying to figure out if I missed the part where we stopped thinking ahead."
Clarisse scoffed under her breath, but didn’t interrupt.
Bronte straightened, more defensive. "She planned it. Not us. She brought it up to Chiron, worked it out. The logistics, timing, everything. We only knew the full details after."
Percy didn’t turn, didn’t even glance in Chiron’s direction.
His jaw tightened.
"So you just let her go," he said.
There was something colder in his voice, and Percy was losing the little patience he had.
"She’s Annabeth," Grover said, like that explained it.
Percy let out a short, humorless breath.
"Yeah," he said. "She is."
And that was exactly the problem. Because Annabeth planned, she calculated every possible detail, and if there were mishaps, she thought about them before they happened.
Annabeth didn’t just vanish between two points on a map.
Percy’s fingers curled against the edge of the table.
"Okay," he said, nodding once, like he was forcing his thoughts into place. "Okay. So what? You’re just sending people out randomly?"
"We’re covering ground," Clarisse snapped. "Unless you’ve got a better idea—"
"I didn’t say that," Percy shot back immediately. He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once along the side of the table before stopping again. "I’m asking if there’s a pattern you’re missing."
Chiron finally spoke, calm but firm.
"We are working with limited information, Percy."
Percy jerked his head, like trying to unhear his voice.
His gaze dropped back to the map.
Routes, distances, and timing. Every single thing.
Annabeth wouldn’t just disappear.
Something happened between point A and point B.
His head lifted.
"Show me everything," he said. "Timeline, calls, sightings. Everything."
This time, no one questioned it.
Grover immediately shifted the map to give him space. Bronte reached for a stack of papers. Even Clarisse didn’t argue.
For a while, the only sound in the Big House was paper shifting, low murmurs, the crackle of Iris-messages struggling to stay connected.
Percy didn’t speak. He moved things around and lined them up. Crossed references in his head faster than anyone could follow. Times. Distances. Gaps.
Too clean in some places, too empty in others.
Annabeth wouldn’t leave gaps.
Silence stretched until he spoke up again.
"They took her."
Percy’s eyes didn’t lift from the map.
"She made it to the meeting point," he continued, voice steady, controlled in a way that almost made it worse. "She got the key. After that, she disappears in transit. No signs of a fight, no witnesses that matter, no monster activity."
He looked up at them.
"That’s not an accident."
Katie frowned. "Percy, that’s—"
"Logical," he cut in immediately. "It’s the only thing that makes sense."
Clarisse crossed her arms. "You’re jumping to conclusions."
"No," Percy said, cutting every possibility of someone contradicting him again. "I’m eliminating the ones that don’t fit. Annabeth doesn’t just wander off. She doesn’t lose track of time. And she definitely doesn’t miss a rendezvous without a backup plan."
His jaw tightened.
"So yeah. Someone took her." He looked directly at Grover because to say what he was going to say next, he needed his support. "Luke took her."
The room went completely still.
Bronte shook her head. "Percy, that’s risky to say without proof—"
"Who else?" Percy snapped, the control slipping just enough to show the edge underneath. "Who else would go after her specifically? Who else knows how her brain works, how she plans, where she’d be—"
He stopped himself, exhaling sharply through his nose.
"Annabeth wouldn’t disappear on her own," he said. "Which means someone made her. And the only person who’d need her like that—"
A voice crackled through one of the Iris-messages.
"—we don’t even know if she’s alive, man. She could be lying in some alley somewhere—"
Connor hurried to slap the space where the message was and cut the connection.
Travis blinked at the empty shimmer of the message.
Percy’s head turned slowly. He locked eyes with Connor across the room.
Connor went completely still. His eyes widened, and he immediately shook his head, hands coming up like he could physically stop what was about to happen.
"Don’t—" Connor said quickly. "Don’t listen to that."
Something in Percy’s expression had already changed.
"She’s not dead." He said, marking each word.
They stood in silence.
Then Percy dragged his gaze away, back to the map, like that was the only thing keeping everything else in check.
His hand pressed flat against the table.
"We’re wasting time," he said, voice still tight, still controlled. "If it’s Luke—"
But before he could continue, the door to the Big House slammed open, it was getting dark outside, and Thalia burst into the room like a tornado.
"Why didn't anyone call me sooner?"
Thalia stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling, her eyes wild as they swept across the room, taking in the map, the messages, the chaos.
For half a second, no one answered. Instead, almost instinctively, several heads turned toward Grover.
Grover froze.
"Hey—" he started, lifting his hands. "I called as soon as—"
"As soon as what?" Thalia cut in, striding forward like a storm given form. "As soon as it got bad enough? Or as soon as you realized you couldn’t handle it?"
"Thalia—" Chiron began.
"What happened?" she demanded, ignoring him completely. "Start talking. Now."
Katie stepped in first, trying to ground things. "She went into the city yesterday—"
"Alone?" Thalia snapped immediately.
Clarisse sighed loudly and looked at Percy irritably, cause she knew that exactly what happened with him just now would repeat with Thalia.
Thalia let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, dragging a hand through her hair. "You let her go alone?"
"She planned it," Bronte said quickly. "With Chiron. We didn’t—"
"I don’t care who planned it," Thalia shot back. "She’s missing."
Grover stepped closer, and talked to her like he was missing to a kid who was about to lose it. "We’re trying to find her. We’ve got teams out, we’re tracking—"
"Tracking what?" Thalia demanded. "You don’t even know where she is."
The room started to spiral again.
People talking over each other. Trying to explain, trying to justify, trying to fix something that already felt out of control.
And in the middle of it, Percy stepped back.
No one noticed at first. Not with Thalia demanding answers, with Clarisse snapping something back, with Grover trying to mediate.
Percy’s gaze lingered on the map one last second, then he turned for the exit.
"Percy."
Thalia’s voice cut through everything.
He stopped, but didn’t turn right away.
"Where are you going?"
That time, he did turn around. His expression matched hers, hard, set, no patience left.
"To talk to Beckendorf."
He didn't give any more explanation than that. Thalia clearly didn't like that, but Percy's mind was already somewhere else.
Thalia frowned, taking a step toward him. "About what—"
But Percy was already moving. He didn’t wait.
The door slammed again behind him as he left, the sound echoing through the Big House.
Percy marched down the camp. It was already dark outside, and the wind had picked up more than before.
He knew exactly where he was heading.
The forge. Not the main one, but the smaller one. The one Beckendorf used when he didn’t want people hovering.
The sound of metal hitting metal carried faintly through the trees. Rhythmic and steady, which made Pecy nervous.
Percy stepped inside without announcing himself.
Beckendorf didn’t look up right away. He was bent over something large, too large to be a normal project. Sheets of metal curved in ways that didn’t quite make sense, edges layered with something darker, almost liquid-looking when the light hit it.
A boat that looked more like a hull.
Percy stopped a few steps in.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
"You came faster than I thought."
Beckendorf’s voice was calm and certain, but he still didn’t look up.
Percy’s jaw tightened. "You knew I’d come."
"Yes," Beckendorf said.
Beckendorf straightened, finally turning to face him. There was soot on his hands, along his arms. He wiped one of them against his shirt, more out of habit than anything.
His eyes went straight to Percy’s.
Percy glanced past him, at the structure again.
"You’re still working on it."
Beckendorf followed his gaze, exhaling softly. "Not done."
The metal along one side shimmered faintly, like it was trying to disappear into the air, but couldn’t quite hold it. The effect broke the closer you got, edges revealing themselves, distortion collapsing.
Percy stepped closer.
"Camouflage?"
"At a distance," Beckendorf said. "Blends with the water. Light bending, reflection manipulation—" he stopped himself, shrugging slightly. "Up close, it fails."
"Because it’s not finished."
"Because it’s rushed."
Percy nodded once.
"We don’t have time to finish it." He said quieter.
Beckendorf didn’t answer immediately.
Percy’s gaze dropped briefly to the floor, then back up.
"She’s there." He didn't hesitate; he knew.
He knew.
Beckendorf studied him for a moment.
"You don’t know that." But it didn't sound like he even believed that; it seemed like he was saying it for it to be an actual option.
Because if he had been waiting for Percy, if he knew Percy would show up. It meant he knew too.
"I do."
The forge was so quiet, it was the quietest Percy had been since the afternoon. The calmest, even though the air smelt of burnt metal, and it was a little humid, it felt like he finally could breathe.
"She disappears on a clean route. No noise, no witnesses that matter. No monster interference." Percy’s voice tightened. "That’s not random."
Beckendorf crossed his arms slowly, leaning his weight back against the edge of the worktable.
"You think it’s him."
Percy didn’t answer.
A small exhale left Beckendorf, almost like he’d expected that exact silence.
"And you think he took her there."
"Where else?" Percy shot back, but even that wasn’t loud. "It’s a mobile base. Hard to track."
His eyes flicked back to the unfinished hull.
"And we already planned a way in."
That was the part that mattered. That was why Percy was there after all.
Beckendorf looked at the boat again, then back at Percy.
"It’s not ready," he said, "The cloaking won’t hold if we get close. If they scan, if they’re watching—"
"We don’t need perfect," Percy cut in.
That made Beckendorf pause. Percy stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"We need close enough."
Silence stretched between them.
Beckendorf’s gaze searched his face, not for doubt. Probably for how far gone he was.
Beckendorf let out a slow breath through his nose.
"You were going to come ask me this anyway," he said.
Percy didn’t deny it.
"I was hoping we’d have more time," Beckendorf added.
Percy’s expression didn’t change.
"We don’t."
Then Beckendorf pushed himself off the table.
"Then we don’t go in blind."
Percy’s shoulders shifted.
"What do you need?" he asked.
Beckendorf glanced back at the half-finished boat, already running through adjustments in his head.
"An hour," he said. "Maybe two."
Percy nodded once.
"Take it."
He turned to leave.
"Percy."
He stopped, but didn't turn around.
Beckendorf didn’t move this time.
"If we’re wrong—"
Percy shook his head.
"We’re not."
The Big House was louder than before.
"—this isn’t working!" Thalia’s voice cut through everything, echoing off the walls. "You’re sending people out with nothing. No pattern, no lead, just hoping you get lucky?"
"No one’s hoping—" Katie tried.
"That’s exactly what you’re doing!"
Percy stepped inside.
No one noticed him at first. All eyes were on Thalia, pacing, running a hand through her hair, anger and fear bleeding into every movement.
"She wouldn’t just disappear," Thalia went on, voice tight. "You all know that. Someone took her."
Percy moved forward.
"Yeah," he said.
Thalia turned sharply toward him. Their eyes locked.
"You finally decided to show up," she snapped.
Percy didn’t react to that. Instead, he was calm.
He had a plan.
"Stop yelling at them," he said. "They’re doing everything they can."
Thalia let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"Oh, that’s rich."
She took a step toward him.
"Where were you, then?" she shot back. "If this is so obvious to you. If you already think Luke has her. Why didn’t you know she was going to the city?"
Percy’s jaw tightened.
"That’s your territory, right?" Thalia pressed. "New York, the city, your whole thing. So how did you not know anything about this?"
Percy exhaled once, sharp through his nose.
"Come on, Thalia. Give me a break. We are all here—"
But she didn't let him finish. Thalia blinked, then laughed again, sharper this time.
"A break?" she repeated, almost mocking. "For what?"
She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing.
"For all I know, you’ve had one hell of a break, Percy."
The room went still. He could see their friends around, looking at each other. He could hear Clarisse's tired sigh and Grover's anxious chugs of teeth. Silena getting closer to the circle around the table.
"Barely coming to camp," she continued, voice cutting cleaner now. "Not training. Not helping. War’s coming and you’re what—" Her mouth twisted. "Painting the city with your mortal friends?"
The silence was heavy afterward. Uncomfortable.
Percy didn’t look away. Nor did he flinch like he wanted to. But something in him shifted.
"You really want to do this right now?" he asked, voice low.
Thalia didn’t hesitate.
"Yeah," she said. "I do."
Percy took a step closer.
"Okay," he said. "You want to talk about who wasn’t here?" His voice stayed controlled, but it had an edge he hadn't use until then. "About who left?"
Thalia’s expression flickered, just slightly.
Percy didn’t back down.
"Because last I checked, you didn’t exactly stick around either. You joined the Hunters," he continued. "You disappeared. No contact, no looking back—"
"I didn’t disappear—" Thalia snapped.
"No?" Percy cut in. "Then where were you?"
Silence snapped tight between them.
For a second, it wasn’t even about Annabeth. It was older than that. It probably wasn't about what the other did, but what each of them was doing.
"You don’t get to stand here and act like you’ve been carrying this the whole time," Percy said, quieter. "We both left."
Percy couldn't say that louder than he did. It got stuck on his throat cause it was what he had been thinking all year.
He left; he didn't reach out.
And now Annabeth was missing, and all he could think was that it was his fault. That if he had been here for the break, if he had talked to her more. Maybe she would have told him, maybe she would be here.
Percy’s voice dropped just a little more.
"And she was still here."
That was the worst part.
Neither of them said anything after that. Because there wasn’t a clean way out of it.
Just blame, and the realization that it didn’t actually help.
The door slammed behind Thalia when she left. Percy hurried behind her.
She didn’t stop walking. Gravel crunched hard under her boots, too fast, too sharp.
"Thalia—"
"I said don’t."
She spun around this time, fast. Eyes bright, not just angry, but almost desperate, it probably matched the look Percy had given his mother when he was freaking out. Percy had never seen her like that.
"Do you have any idea how long I’ve been thinking about this?" she snapped. "About her. About what I should’ve done differently, what I missed, what I—"
She cut herself off with a frustrated sound, dragging both hands over her face.
"I wasn’t there," she said, voice breaking just slightly, raw. "I wasn’t here. And now this happens, and everyone’s acting like it’s just bad luck or bad planning, and it’s not—"
Her voice sharpened again.
"It’s not. You don’t just lose Annabeth."
Percy didn’t interrupt. So she kept going.
"I keep thinking about the last time I saw her," Thalia said, words coming faster. "What she said, what I said—if I missed something, if she tried to tell me something and I just—"
She let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh, but didn’t.
"And now we’re here, and I wasn’t even here to stop it," she finished, quieter but heavier. "I left."
And there it was. Out there, out loud. Not the only thing that connected them, but the worst somehow.
Percy’s jaw tightened.
"Yeah," he said.
Thalia let out a short, bitter huff. "Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t just agree like it’s nothing."
"I’m not," Percy shot back, something in his voice finally pushing through. "I’m saying I get it."
She frowned at that, sharply. "You don’t—"
"I do."
That stopped her.
Percy stepped closer, not aggressively, but not holding back because he was frustrated thinking about what they were talking about.
"You think you’ve been thinking about it?" he said. "Try knowing she was in the city, probably closer than I think, and you had no idea. Try realizing everyone else knew something was off before you even showed up."
Thalia’s expression shifted.
Percy kept going.
"I should’ve known," he said, matter of fact. "I should’ve picked up on something, anything. That she was planning something, that she was going alone—"
He cut himself off, shaking his head once.
"But I didn’t," he added. "Because I wasn’t here either."
Thalia didn’t answer immediately.
"So yeah," Percy went on. "You left. I left. We both had our reasons."
His mouth twisted.
"Doesn’t really matter now, does it?"
Silence pressed in. Because now it wasn’t just anger, it was recognition of everything that they were thinking, probably not just today.
Thalia looked away first, jaw tight.
"I didn’t think it would feel like this," she admitted. "Saying it."
Percy let out a dry breath.
"Yeah. It doesn’t stay in your head anymore."
She nodded slightly.
"And now she’s the one paying for it."
Percy swallowed.
"Not for long," he said.
Thalia glanced back at him. There was something steadier in her expression.
"You think it’s him," she said.
Percy didn’t hesitate.
"Yeah."
"And you know where."
"We gotta go to the Princess Andromeda. It's the only way."
Thalia jerked her head, nodding.
"Okay."
Percy blinked.
"Okay?" he repeated.
She stepped past him, already turning back toward the Big House.
"We’re not standing around arguing about it," she said. "If he has her, we go get her."
And finally, they were on the same page.
Percy turned, falling into step beside her.
They entered the Big House again, together.
Percy didn’t stop moving until he reached the table. Thalia went to each Iris call and finished it, ordering the people to come back to camp.
Percy barely looked at the map of New York before flipping it over, the paper dragging against the wood with a rough sound that cut through the room.
"That’s not where this is happening," he said, almost to himself, already reaching for a marker. "We’re looking in the wrong place."
Before anyone could say anything. He started drawing. Lines that curved into structure, levels stacking over each other, sections dividing in a way that made sense even before he explained it.
"The Princess Andromeda," he said, like it had been obvious the whole time. "It’s the only place that fits. Mobile, controlled, isolated enough that no one sees anything they’re not supposed to."
He didn’t look up, but he could feel the shift in the room. The weight of the name.
"If Luke took her. And he did. He’s not leaving her somewhere random. He’s keeping her where he has control."
The marker moved lower, carving out another level.
"They’ve held people there before," he went on, voice steady, building as he spoke. "Lower decks, cargo areas. Out of sight, easy to guard, easy to move if they need to. That’s where we start."
He paused just long enough to glance at Clarisse.
"You remember anything I’m missing?"
Clarisse had already stepped closer, eyes locked on the sketch. She leaned in slightly, pointing without hesitation.
"Yeah. There’s more below that," she said, tapping under Percy’s last line. "They keep monsters down there. Not just cages, work areas. Forging, breeding, whatever they’re doing now."
Percy nodded immediately, adjusting the drawing, expanding it.
"Right. So lower levels are worse than I remember," he muttered, then louder, for everyone else, "which means if she’snot in cargo, she’s there. Either way, it’s below deck."
"And the demigods?" Thalia asked from behind him, her voice sharper and focused.
"Mid-level," Percy answered without missing a beat, sketching it in. "Barracks, rest areas, rotating guards. That’s where most of them stay when they’re not on duty."
Clarisse nodded again. "They move a lot, though. You won’t get a fixed pattern."
"We don’t need one," Percy said, finally straightening just slightly, looking at the full sketch for the first time. "We’re not clearing the ship. We’re finding one person."
Percy tapped the side of the table lightly with the marker.
"So this is how we do it."
He looked up.
"We use the boat Beckendorf’s been working on. It’ll get us close without being seen, but not all the way. The camouflage breaks at short distance, so we stop before that happens."
A few confused looks flickered, but Percy kept going, already connecting the next step.
"From there, we switch to hippocampi. Faster, quieter, harder to track. Four of us go that way. Me, Thalia, Clarisse, and Beckendorf. The rest stay on the boat," Percy continued, shifting his gaze briefly to Grover and Silena. "You hold position, keep it hidden, keep comms open as long as possible. If something goes wrong, we need a way out that’s still there when we come back."
Grover and Silena nodded, not questioning anything.
Percy turned back to the sketch.
"Once we’re inside, we don’t move together. We split, two and two. Cover more ground, move faster, don’t draw attention in one place."
He traced two rough paths along the lower levels.
"We go in from the back. Less guarded, more mechanical access, easier to slip through without running straight into a patrol. If we find her, we don’t engage unless we have to," he said, more firmly. "This isn’t about winning a fight. We get her out. That’s it."
"And what do we do with the fact that they must be waiting for us?" Clarisse asked.
"We give them a show."
There was a flicker of something in the room at that, something between agreement and unease, but Percy didn’t slow down enough to let it turn into doubt.
"We leave tonight," he added, already reaching for the edge of the table like he was done explaining.
That did stop people.
Katie frowned. "Tonight?"
Chiron stepped forward, measured as always. "Percy, it would be wise to take a moment to refine the plan. There are variables you haven’t accounted for—"
Percy let out a short breath.
"With what?" he cut in, not raising his voice, but not softening it either. "We don’t have more information coming. This is it."
He gestured back to the map, his map.
"What I remember, what Clarisse remembers, and the fact that she didn’t make it from point A to point B. That’s all we’ve got."
Chiron didn’t back off. "Even so, rushing into—"
"I’m not rushing," Percy said, sharper this time. "I’m going."
He straightened, eyes moving across the room, not challenging, not asking. But his stance only commanded what he hoped was determination.
"I’m already being nice standing here and telling you," he said. "Because if it were up to me, I’d already be on that ship."
No one spoke.
"As soon as the boat’s ready, we leave."
He looked back at the map one last time, the rough lines, the incomplete structure, the gaps he couldn’t fill.
It had to be enough, because it was all they had.
And waiting wasn’t going to give them more.