Archive of Our Own

The flyer was crisp under Annabeth’s fingers. She’d read it so many times by now that she had the paper memorised. Usually, she knew how to be sneaky, growing up in a cabin full of her siblings as she had, but she’d been so lost in her thoughts over this that Malcolm had caught her looking at it more than once now. It had taken him until the third instance to ask if she was leaving.

She hadn’t known how to answer him.

The Hunters of Artemis were serious about their branding. Whatever the flyer was made out of, it was stiffer than paper and glowed the faintest silver in the right lights. It was decorated with images of carefree girls with bows and knives, stalking through forests, laughing and embracing each other like sisters. It promised a boy-free tomorrow.

Annabeth had a list. Pros and cons of joining. She never made any decision without weighing up her options—something Malcolm should have known before he asked. Honestly, under other circumstances, she wouldn’t have even considered joining. There were so many cons. Annabeth liked being out on quests, getting the chance to prove herself, but moving around and living in the wilderness constantly didn’t seem like her speed. The Hunters didn’t build anything; that would go against their wilderness thing. They had no need for an architect, so she would have to become someone else if she were to join. Find new dreams to chase.

Maybe that would be good for her. The vision the sirens had given her still called out in her dreams, and sometimes she thought she’d be sick with longing for it. She wanted Luke back. She wanted him to be better. She wanted her dad back, too, even as he’d shown time and time again that he wouldn’t ever be who she wanted. Annabeth was so tired of missing people who left her behind.

The Hunters tended to believe that boys—men—were irredeemable. If Percy was right in the way he talked, Luke was irredeemable. But then the Hunters would say the same about Percy too, and that wasn’t true.

Wasn’t it?

She didn’t want to believe it. But every time she looked over her shoulder, nowadays, she wondered if her friends—the people she trusted more than anything—would turn on her just like Luke had when he’d tried to feed her to those bears. Even if they didn’t, how else might they leave? How else might they be taken from her? She’d watched Thalia die. When she’d met Percy, she’d already read the Great Prophecy, even if she’d promised not to tell him it in full, and knew that the end of his days were a few short years away. Now Thalia was back. It could be either one of them, but both of them were so vulnerable. Both of them might disappear as soon as her back was turned, whether they wanted to leave or not.

Everyone left eventually. She was just coming to terms with that when, a few weeks before camp ended for the summer, she’d come across one of the Hunters’ flyers in the Big House. Since then, she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head.

She knew what the Hunters were for, traditionally. They were an escape for girls. A family who wouldn’t betray them, wouldn’t sell them in marriage, wouldn’t hurt. Immortality. People she could trust forever. Servitude to a goddess.

All she had to do was let go—of her current family, of Camp Half-Blood, and of her dreams.

No Huntress ever got famous. All their deeds were done collectively, in Artemis’s name. Annabeth would never have the glory she’d been raised to crave. She’d never have her mother recognise her as a singularly talented child of hers. But would the attention of a different Olympian soothe that hurt?

She would never build a monument to last a thousand years—but maybe that had been a pipe dream anyway. At least she could live a thousand years and be a monument in herself.

“Again?” Thalia asked.

Annabeth jumped, broken from her thoughts. She’d been waiting on the sidewalk outside her and Thalia’s all girls’ school for what felt like an age now, and she’d almost thought that Thalia had decided not to come after all. It wouldn’t have been a massive surprise. Thalia and Percy didn’t dislike each other, but Annabeth had been right when she predicted the way they interacted. Either they understood each other… or they didn’t. Both outcomes could be painful.

She stuffed the flyer into her bag, scowling. “I’m just thinking about it.”

“I told you, the Hunters are—”

“I know.” They’d had this argument already. It was amazing how tightly Thalia could hold onto her grudge against Zoë Nightshade even after everything else they’d dealt with by now.

“You gonna tell Percy?”

Annabeth winced. At least Thalia had had the grace not to mention that in their previous arguments, though she wasn’t sure whether that was because she just thought Percy wasn’t important enough to factor into the decision. “He won’t… It doesn’t matter. I only see him in the summers anyway. I haven’t seen him since camp ended.” Thalia just raised an eyebrow. “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t gonna.” She nodded down the road. “But get your act together before he wonders why you’re acting so weird.”

Annabeth glanced up. The Jacksons’ car was ambling toward them down the road, Percy grinning at her out of the passenger’s seat.

“Percy wouldn’t notice,” she said, a little bitterly. No one could be as oblivious as Percy Jackson.

Then the car was in front of them, and they were off.

It was a quiet drive. On their part, at least. Percy tried to make conversation, but it was obvious he was nervous—and awkward, as always—and Annabeth couldn’t pretend that she and Thalia weren’t too. The idea that Grover had actually called on them for help extracting a demigod… that didn’t bode well.

At least Ms Jackson kept up a steady stream of chatter. Clearly, she was a nervous talker. Annabeth tried to smother her smile at the image of all of baby Percy’s cutest moments, as told by his adoring mother, but Percy’s flaming cheeks made it difficult. The blizzard blew around them, but his face looked hot enough to warm the car on its own. When they finally arrived at Westover Hall, Annabeth was disappointed. And not just because her nerves returned.

“Oh yeah,” Thalia commented, looking up at the gothic, forbidding boarding school, “this’ll be fun.”

Annabeth wondered what the architect’s brief had looked like for this building. Please design us a school for teenagers. Make it as terrifying as possible, so they either come out scared of their own skins or full of delusions of grandeur. She wondered what she’d do if a client said something like that to her.

She shook her head. The Hunters wouldn’t have space for designing buildings. Particularly not ones for co-ed schools.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?”

“No, thanks, Mom. I don’t know how long it will take. We’ll be okay.”

“But how will you get back? I’m worried, Percy.”

Annabeth glanced to the side just to see if Percy had given into his flight instincts yet in the face of this social embarrassment. Not quite. If it was someone else, she might’ve felt resentful at the motherly affection, and she had, once. Now, she felt comfortable enough with both the Jacksons that it had mostly—mostly—faded. It was cute that he got to be like this with his mom. He didn’t have to treasure every decent conversation with her. And if she did her best not to think about her dad in moments like this, well, that was no different to any other moment of the day.

She took pity on the both of them. “It’s okay, Ms Jackson,” she said, smiling. “We’ll keep him out of trouble.”

She liked the way Ms Jackson relaxed. She really, really liked Ms Jackson in general. And she was glad that Ms Jackson seemed to like her too.

After a little more fussing, they went outside. Thalia had clearly been having similar thoughts to Annabeth, because she said, “Your mom is so cool, Percy.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure if Percy realised he was smiling. “She’s pretty okay,” he allowed. Then he ruined it. “What about you? You ever get in touch with your mom?”

Clearly, he regretted it too as soon as he’d said it. Thalia glared at him and began hotly, “If that was any of your business, Percy—”

“We’d better get inside.” Annabeth took a deep breath. Percy didn’t know much about Thalia’s mom. And he just put his foot in it sometimes. But she wished they didn’t have to set each other off now. “Grover will be waiting.”

They went inside.

The teachers weren’t much of an obstacle, particularly with how intently Chiron had been training Thalia in how to use the Mist. He’d been terrified she’d make a comment that revealed she was actually the long missing runaway child of a famous actress, especially if she was going to boarding school with Annabeth. It was good to see Grover again, even if the news that there were a) two half-bloods to rescue and b) the monster already suspected they were there to extract them was disconcerting. Seeing Grover and Thalia bicker about music taste was so nostalgic for back when they were on the run that Annabeth smiled after them as they went to dance.

“What?”

She glanced at Percy. “Nothing. It’s just cool to have Thalia back.”

Silence fell. They stared at each other for a few seconds, not sure how to fill it. He’d gotten shorter since she’d last seen him—or maybe she’d gotten taller. Something about his face, though, seemed more well-defined. He looked… really good.

She wished she could see him more during the school year. They both lived in New York…

“Um,” Percy tried, breaking the awkward silence. “Design any good buildings lately?”

She was off before she even intended on it, rambling on about her 3-D design course and the monument she wanted to build at Ground Zero. Even if she could tell a lot of this was going right over his head, it was obvious he was trying to listen. He nodded at the right moments. Sometimes he mouthed structural support or façade like they were foreign words he was trying to memorise for later. It made her chest feel like it was filled with bubbles.

“Yeah, uh, cool,” he tried. “So, you’re staying there the rest of the year, huh?”

She frowned, thinking about her dad and his stupid move to California. The monster-infested Bay Area. A place he must know that she could never go, so he’d be free of her at last. “Well, maybe. If I don’t—”

“Hey!” Thalia interrupted. “Dance, you guys! You look stupid just standing there!”

Annabeth resisted the urge to glare at her. She didn’t want to dance with Percy. She didn’t…

Okay. She really wanted to dance with Percy.

Percy, who was looking at her nervously, then around at the hordes of girls around the hall. “Well?” she asked.

“Um, who should I ask?”

She punched him in the gut. They were standing close enough for her to do it casually, without effort, and she tried again to ignore the butterflies at realising that. Dancing would bring them even closer.

That suddenly seemed terrifying, but she pressed on. “Me, Seaweed Brain.”

“Oh. Oh, right.” He didn’t sound enthused, but they danced. Neither of them really knew how. She clasped his hand the way they’d been taught to in hand-to-hand combat at camp. Meanwhile, he held her like he was doing his sea life rescue and trying to extract a particularly touchy eel from a fishing net.

“I’m not going to bite,” she chided.

He didn’t have much of a response. They shuffled together for a while, and he seemed distracted, constantly looking around at the party decorations like he was worried a monster would lunge at them any minute. Which it might, she knew, but it would’ve been nice to just… dance… with him. He kept stepping on her toes and wincing whenever he did, clutching her hand a little too tight, but she liked it. And she liked how hard he was trying not to, despite his clumsiness.

Then he struck up the conversation again, and she got to rant about her dad. It felt good to let it all out again. Thalia had already heard her complaints, but despite how oblivious Percy was sometimes, he had a way of listening that made you feel like he heard everything you didn’t say.

“So… you’ll go back to living at camp or what?” he tried.

She frowned. Now would be a good time to tell him. Joining the Hunters wasn’t really connected to the issue with her dad—Percy was right, she could easily just go back to camp—but it was a good excuse. A change in scenery. A change in the essence of her life. Her dad had decided to abandon her despite their attempts to fix their relationship, so there was nothing to lose in leaving men behind, after all.

Looking at Percy made it hard to say. But Annabeth tried not to shy away from difficult things. “It’s more serious than that,” she admitted. “I… I probably should tell you something.”

But as she glanced up to meet his eyes, to see his open, curious face, she really didn’t want to. She cast about for a change in subject. It came: the di Angelos were gone. They had to go to rescue them. She ran off to find Thalia and Grover, Percy in tow. By the time she found them, Percy was gone.

The three of them stood in the middle of the school gym, middle-schoolers dancing around them. It was hard to tell, but Percy was definitely not there. Grover stepped in pretty quickly, at least.

“I can sense him,” he said. “He’s in trouble.”

“Of course he is,” Annabeth muttered, her heart leaping. She reached for her knife in her bag, and then her invisibility cap. They made her feel safer, surrounded by normal mortals like this. Normal, ordinary children, with nice parents—well, parents who sent them to military school—and petty problems. People who had no idea of the threat within their midst.

“I can track him,” Grover insisted. “He’s gone outside—probably with Dr Thorn and the di Angelos. We need a plan.”

Annabeth had one. Once they’d tracked down the walkabout demigods, she bowled into them, invisible, while Thalia and Grover advanced on Dr Thorn. Percy looked alright, if in pain. Dr Thorn revealed himself as a manticore, and his spines knocked down Thalia and damaged Percy’s shield, and then there was a helicopter flying overhead, and—

A silver arrow shot out of nowhere to lodge in Dr Thorn’s shoulder. Annabeth had looked at so many images of girls shooting those arrows that it didn’t take long to realise what they were, especially when they managed to shoot Dr Thorn’s spikes clean out of the air.

“The Hunters!” she gasped.

Thalia, predictably, groaned. “Oh, wonderful.”

Annabeth was too stunned to react for a moment. She’d known that in expressing her interest to join, they might be watching her to test her valour, but she’d never anticipated they might step in. One of them, clearly the leader, stepped forward, asking for permission to kill.

Then she saw Artemis herself. She gasped all over again. Annabeth had only ever seen her at Solstice meetings before, enormous on her throne despite the young age she chose to appear as. Now, on this dark snowy night, she looked more at home. Her aristocratic face was cold in the moonlight, as beautiful and constant as marble. She looked down on Dr Thorn and condemned him with all the regalness a goddess should have.

That, Annabeth had to admit, would be a goddess worth serving.

Then Dr Thorn lunged at Percy and Thalia. It snapped her out of her daze. “No!”

There was no thought in what she did next. Annabeth didn’t need to think to know that she needed to save her friends. She leapt onto the manticore’s back and drove her knife into his mane. When he spun, she had to grip with all her might to keep from being thrown off the cliff.

It didn’t matter. He jumped off the cliff anyway, and he took her with him.

Annabeth must have blacked out in transit. She came back to her senses on a dark hillside, shrouded in fog, on her knees on the sparse rocky ground. She glanced around frantically, not sure why the air felt so close, like it was pressing down on her. The place looked like a dark, ruined Olympus. Corinthian columns made of black marble lay on their sides, the pieces of the roof they’d one held up lying askew here and there over the hillside.

“Thorn!” she shouted, trying to sound defiant and failing. “Where are you?” No one responded. “Why did you bring me here?”

Only the howling of the wind answered her. The sky was grey and heavy—heavy in a physical way, she thought. Mist snaked around her, but it wasn’t so thick that she couldn’t see.

Maybe if she got to the crest of the hill, she’d have a good enough view to figure out where she was. She tried to climb, scrambling over the prickling shrubbery and the shattered stone, ignoring the way it all scratched at her hands. Just when she reached the top, the sight knocked the breath from her lungs.

Luke was there.

He looked terrible. She hadn’t seen him since he’d set those bear twins on her, but on the Princess Andromeda he’d looked suave, put together, surprisingly well-dressed. Now, he was pale and injured, knelt on the rocky ground and grunting in pain. His blond hair looked to have greyed. The clouds that had seemed so heavy pressed down on him, his back, until he was bowed under the weight of it.

“Annabeth!” he called, as soon as he glanced up and saw her. “Help me! Please!”

She couldn’t help herself: she ran forward. The sky, she realised, a note of shrillness accompanying the thought in her mind. He was holding up the sky.

That was impossible, though. Atlas held up the sky, didn’t he? Which meant the Titans had freed him, and—what? Stuck Luke in his place? It was possible. Kronos wasn’t trustworthy, even to the demigod advancing his cause. Maybe he’d betrayed him.

She was in front of Luke now. She reached down to touch his face, but she drew back at the last moment. “What happened?”

“They left me here,” Luke confirmed in a groan. Her mind whirled. They had betrayed him. “Please. It’s killing me.”

Her heart leaped. They’d left him behind. Kicked him out. If she got him out from under the sky somehow, he could— he could come home. He’d see the error of his ways now, surely? She could make it happen. They’d betrayed him; he’d see that Kronos was wrong. He could come back to her.

But he had betrayed her too.

“Why should I trust you?” she asked, trying not to let her voice shake.

“You shouldn’t,” Luke admitted. He sounded so matter of fact, so lost, she didn’t know what to do. “I’ve been terrible to you. But, if you don’t help me, I’ll die.”

She hesitated. Percy would say to let him die, she knew. Luke had betrayed them so often before. What if this was a trick? What if this ended in her death instead?

But the part of her that didn’t want to join the Hunters at all just kept thinking: what if it wasn’t?

She hesitated too long. The cloud seemed to collapse suddenly, the force driving Luke even farther down. He was bent over double now, his shoulders shaking violently. Just before he broke and fell altogether, she rushed forward, lifted her arms, and took it from him.

The force nearly knocked her out. She scrunched her eyes shut and clenched her jaw, even as it made her feel like her teeth were welding together. It was difficult to raise her chest enough even to breathe. Her knees hit the rocky ground and bled. It was going to crush her—

No! No! She was Annabeth Chase. She was a daughter of Athena. Heracles had held the sky once. She could do it now, for a few moments, while Luke got his breath back.

He was free now, his chest heaving for air. “Thanks,” he managed.

It was difficult to speak. “Help— help me hold it!”

Instead of crawling back under the sky with her, he rose to his feet. “I knew I could count on you.”

And he began to walk away.

Panic blazed through her, and something worse—betrayal. Again. Humiliation. He’d tricked her, and she’d fallen for it. He was going to let her die here—

“HELP ME!”

It wasn’t just Luke she was pleading to.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he reassured. “Your help is on the way. It’s all part of the plan. In the meantime, try not to die.”

She choked back a sob that felt like glass in her throat. As he disappeared from view, she closed her eyes and tried to stop the sky from flattening her to the earth.

Annabeth didn’t remember much of what happened after that. Suddenly, there were people around her again, hovering. One of them ran to kneel beside her, and it was only the glint of grey-blond hair in her peripheral vision that made him realise it was Luke.

“She’s fading,” he said. “We must hurry.”

Whose fault is that? she wanted to scream. Whose fault is that?

Someone chuckled and said something, but they were too far away for her to make it out. Then there was a glimmer of silver in front of her, another person—smaller than the others—and more snide remarks. Her head was pounding. She felt like she was trying to breathe gravel.

“She will die soon,” Luke said beside her. “You can save her.”

Who? Who was this? She tried to protest, to insist—no! This was a trick! This person should escape while they could! But she couldn’t make much more than a moan.

Then the newcomer was beside her. She took the sky and Annabeth collapsed, shaking, and tried to peer up at who this was. A young girl, with auburn hair and skin that glowed with a silvery light, her cuts weeping gold…

Artemis, she realised. The goddess she’d been considering swearing herself to.

She tried to protest again, to rise, but her limbs wouldn’t respond. She could see Artemis straining under the sky, hear her parrying all of the strangers’ taunts, but she couldn’t process what they were saying. Until Artemis shouted, “No!”

Luke looked hesitant. Annabeth was nearing unconsciousness, but she thought she heard him argue. Then his arms were around her, and he carried her away.

She woke up in a makeshift cell. That was to say—the cell hadn’t been made yet. She could see the palace of Mount Othrys forming around them, the walls rising out of the mist, but it wasn’t solid. Not yet. She reached out to pass a hand through the smoky wall, and a guard hissed at her.

Dracaenae. Two of them.

Her wrists were chained in front of her. She sat on the rough ground and looked around. They were still on the hillside—mountainside?—she’d woken up on. There was no way of knowing where they were, but she suspected it had to be in California, based on the feel of the air. And the number of monsters roaming this mountain. Which mountain it was exactly didn’t matter. The fact that Mount Othrys was reforming at all was the worrying bit.

She heard footsteps. Luke came near, nodding to her dracaenae guards, and sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her. He was on the other side of one of those smoky walls, but she felt like she could reach out and touch him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“No.”

He looked regretful. “Annabeth, I’m sorry—”

“Shut up.”

“It was necessary. If I thought you were about to—”

“I said shut up.”

Luke looked sad. “We’re on Mount Tamalpais,” he said. “I’m sure you were wondering.”

Her breath caught. “Mount Tam?”

“A beautiful place to rule the next age from.” He sounded almost wistful.

“A beautiful place to ruin with your presence.”

“It’s not too late to join us, Annabeth,” he said. “Remember all that time we spent on the run, cursing the gods? This is our chance to do something better. Build something better. We can—”

“Shut up!”

He looked hurt, which only made her angrier. He didn’t leave, but he did quieten. They just watched each other a while until he was inevitably called away.

Being a traitor was busy work.

She was left to sit in that cell for days. It didn’t keep out the elements at first, so Luke came back to her with blankets and warmer clothes for the nights. But as Mount Othrys strengthened around them, the walls started to block the wind. At night, looking up at the stars, she’d listen to it howl and thought about how just down the mountain, somewhere in the sprawl of San Francisco, was her dad.

He was right there. But he was still, as always, out of reach.

Artemis never cried out, as far as Annabeth could hear. She suffered under her burden in silence. This was a debt Annabeth could never repay, she knew. Even if she joined the Hunters, even if she served her faithfully for a thousand years, she could never make up to her what she had done.

Luke kept visiting her. He talked to her. He kept insisting that with her, him, and Thalia, it could be like old times.

“Thalia will join us,” he said. “She’ll destroy Olympus. Then it’ll be the three of us against the world again.”

“The three of us and a cannibal Titan,” she muttered.

“What’s that saying? ‘War makes strange bedfellows’?” He tried for a smile. “Kronos will learn from the mistakes of the past. But we all know the gods won’t.”

“Come back, Luke,” she said. “Don’t you hear how crazy you sound? This is all insane, but you can still come back—your dad wants you back—”

She should’ve known that would just make him close off. “So Percy told me,” he said coldly. “I don’t care what my dad wants.”

“What about what I want?” she demanded.

She hated this. Luke had betrayed her again and again. She knew it wasn’t rational or wise to trust him like this. But she wanted him back. She wanted him to come back and tell her he was wrong and let everything go back to the way it was between them before.

His face softened. “It’ll be better this way,” he promised. “For everyone.”

She clenched her fists. “And what about me?”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he promised. “Atlas… he can be reasoned with. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“You said that before!”

He had the nerve to look even sadder. “I know.”

Even when she refused to talk to him, he stayed. He was the one who brought her meals. He talked to her about his plans for the new age, how they would make the gods and mortals alike realise the true worth of demigods. The more he spoke—the more he painted a picture of a new Golden Age, where mortals understood who demigods were, didn’t look down on them for things they couldn’t control, where the Titans respected the soldiers who fought for them and things could last… Her chest tightened.

It didn’t stop her from knowing it was a pipe dream.

Instead, as he talked, she listened to him. He sounded so… rational. She couldn’t stitch this image of him together with the insane man on the Princess Andromeda, who’d grinned as he handed her to the bear twins to be killed. That nightmare had woken her in a cold sweat more than once; for a while, she’d almost convinced herself that Percy was right. That Luke was lost. She’d tried to convince Thalia of that as well, where she could.

What had happened? Why had he seemed so insane, then? And why was he more put together now?

“What did Kronos do to you?” she asked out loud one day.

The question startled a laugh out of him. “What do you mean?”

“What happened to you, Luke?”

He flattened his lips into a thin line. “You know what happened. Everything. Annabeth, you know more about me than anyone. Even Thalia. You know… you know about my mom.” He hesitated, even now, to mention her. Annabeth didn’t want to point out that she didn’t know much about his mom. All she had was a distant, confusing, frightening memory of burnt cookies. “Then there was what happened to Thalia! And that quest—”

“You were given a quest. It was an honour!”

The sad look he gave her chafed like he was rubbing sandpaper over her face. She bristled further as he said, “I know that’s what you think, Annabeth.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known you’d volunteer for the quest for the Master Bolt. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, you shouldn’t have stolen it!”

“—given you guys those shoes.” He swallowed. “I thought Percy would wear them. That he’d be the only one in danger.”

She sneered at him. “You were okay with sending Percy to Tartarus?”

He winced. “Kronos wouldn’t have hurt him.” It must have sounded weak even to him.

“It’s Tartarus!” She shook her head so hard it rang. “I can’t believe this. What happened to you?”

His voice cracked. “I’m still the same, Annabeth.”

“You tried to feed me to a bear!”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, it seemed. After a few minutes of silence, he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t myself. I swear, that won’t happen again. Nothing like that will. I won’t let anything hurt you. We’re family, remember? That’s what I promised.”

He might as well have punched her. “That’s what you promised,” she agreed, her voice cold.

“I won’t let Atlas hurt you. You’re safe here.”

“Why should I trust that?”

Luke didn’t answer. But her questions kept ringing in her mind as he talked about other things, desperately trying to get her to understand. What had driven him to this? What had Kronos done?

The Luke she’d known had been friendly. Easy-going. Angry, yes, but kind. And she’d said herself that he’d never been the same since his quest, so Kronos must have gotten to him then. What had Kronos said? What had he promised? How had he gotten into Luke’s mind?

What was wrong with him?

Annabeth could rationalise Luke’s grievances with the gods. That was easy to understand. But his behaviour—from trying to kill Percy, with the shoes and then the scorpion; to trying to kill her and Grover, with the bear twins—didn’t make sense. If he was fighting for half-bloods, why did he keep threatening them? It made her think of her assumption when she’d seen him under the sky.

Kronos had tricked him. Used him. Manipulated him—either just with words, or with magic that got into his mind.

The thought only nestled deeper in her mind when as he visited, he visibly grew weaker. She’d thought his terrible appearance—pale, grey, clammy—had been from holding up the sky. But even as the shaking in her own limbs subsided, and she got her strength back, he didn’t. His arms still shook when he gestured. From what she could tell in the mirror he provided, her hair had stabilised with only a shock of grey at the front of her head; all of Luke’s hair grew greyer. His tan skin was sickly. Whatever was happening, it was something deeper.

And it was killing him.

He wouldn’t answer what was wrong, no matter how much she asked. They kept talking. He wouldn’t shut up about his plans for the new age, how everything would get better. And he sounded increasingly desperate. He was under pressure, she realised. That was part of what made him look so weak. He was under pressure and the Titans genuinely did just view him as a tool like she’d thought and he was at risk somehow…

She tried to shake the thoughts clear of her head, but her heart ached. He was being manipulated. He was being used.

The thought felt like weakness, like sentiment, but she knew it was true. She was still angry at him for everything he’d done, but if only he came back, he would see this. He would see her perspective, and how his dreams weren’t worth the price that Kronos demanded.

It stung her pride to beg and plead, but she whispered to him all the same: “Come back.”

“Come with me,” he murmured in response.

“You left me,” she said.

He looked stricken. “I’m still here,” he said. “I’m right here. I won’t let go.”

The days passed. And then she was pulled out of the cell to stand near where Artemis struggled under the sky, flanked by a dozen dracaenae who were carrying that horrible sarcophagus they were using for Kronos’s body. And then the quest came.

Annabeth just stood there, still feeling too limp to do much. Luke had chained her arms behind her and put a gag in her mouth with an apologetic expression that disgusted her, and now the tip of his sword was at her throat. She didn’t realise whose benefit that was for until she saw who was on the quest.

The leader was a Hunter of Artemis, she presumed, based on the way her skin glowed with that faint silver light. Thalia and Percy flanked her.

Percy was staring at Annabeth so hard it was like he’d never seen her before. She was suddenly aware of how awful she must look, with her grey hair, ruined clothes, and the nights she’d spent in the cell. When he hardly looked at Artemis under the sky before she was pointed out to them, her heart thudded in her chest. All his attention was on Annabeth.

He’d come for her, she realised. He hadn’t come for Artemis, like Atlas was prattling on about. He’d come for her.

And now he was going to die because of her. This was the Titan stronghold. If they’d subdued Artemis, they could subdue some upstart demigods. She glared at him, terror in her eyes, hoping he got her message to RUN.

He definitely received it, from the way he swallowed, but he ignored her. Why was he like this? Why didn’t he listen? Instead, as Atlas taunted them, Percy taunted right back, and—

“Thalia, you can still join us,” Luke insisted. He sounded like he was in pain, but the hand holding the sword to her throat didn’t shake. “Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. You will be more powerful than the gods!”

The prophecy, Annabeth realised. It was happening right now. Thalia must be nearly sixteen. One of them would die, and Olympus would be destroyed, and Percy was only here, caught in the middle of this, because he had come to save her.

But Thalia refused. When Luke spoke again, he sounded even worse. “It’s my last chance,” he begged. “He will use the other way if you don’t agree. Please.”

Annabeth wished she knew what this other way might be. She wished she’d been able to make him tell her.

Still, Thalia said no. And then they fought.

There was nothing Annabeth could do. Her hands were bound, her limbs still weak. She stumbled away as Thalia bared aegis, flinching almost as badly as Luke’s dracaenae bodyguards as they began to fight. Her eyes were fixed on them, and then she heard—

“Percy! Beware!”

It was the Huntress, and Annabeth immediately saw what she was talking about. Percy attacked Atlas.

Her scream of warning died in her throat. It was too late. Atlas threw Percy, and he fell at Artemis’s feet—and then she blinked, and he was holding the sky—

She needed to help him. Percy wasn’t like Luke; he was the sort of person she could never regret taking the sky from. They could carry it together. She looked down at the chains binding her hands and started wriggling, stepping away to seize some rocks from the ground and start striking the manacles. They were flimsy things, more for show than substance. But by the time she was out, she looked up and Atlas was back under the sky.

Then she heard something awful.

“Well?” Luke declared. He sounded terrified.

Annabeth whipped around. Thalia had him at spearpoint, at the edge of the cliff.

Her heart seized in her chest. She shouted, almost before she could control her mouth: “Don’t kill him!”

Thalia didn’t even look at her. Annabeth couldn’t fathom the way she glared at Luke, like he was a monster she needed to put down. Like he wasn’t Luke. “He’s a traitor,” she snarled. “A traitor!”

Annabeth scrambled toward her. “We’ll bring Luke back,” she pleaded. Surely Thalia, of all people, would be able to see that? This was Luke. He loved them. He could come back. If they got him away from Kronos, he would come back. “To Olympus. He… he’ll be useful.”

She couldn’t lose him too.

It was like neither of them were even listening to her. Luke sneered something at Thalia—and then, when she hesitated, he grabbed for her spear. Almost before Annabeth could shout, Thalia kicked him off the cliff.

“Luke!”

Annabeth didn’t think. It took her a moment for her to realise that that guttural scream had come from her. She raced forward to the cliff edge, nearly unbalancing herself in her haste, and had to cling to the rocky ground to keep from toppling off the cliff right after him. It would have killed her. That much was obvious. Luke’s body was broken on the rocks below.

“No,” she murmured to herself. It was a sob, and then it was a shriek. “No! Luke!”

He had been used. He had done so much wrong, but he’d needed help, and he would have come back, and now—

Percy was behind her. He watched too, mouth taut. Thalia’s anger had faded to a sort of stiff grief as she processed what she’d done—what she was looking at—Luke’s body bleeding and askew on the mountainside—

Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would ever erase the image from her mind. Her breaths came ragged. Luke wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. It was Luke. He’d always been there.

He’d always been there, until he wasn’t.

She snapped her eyes open again when she heard, “Kill them!” There were giants lumbering up the side of the cliff. A whole army of monsters, in fact, stemming from the Princess Andromeda where she was docked. An army Luke had raised.

The giants raised their arms and sent javelins sailing through the air toward them. Annabeth stumbled back, but Thalia still seemed out of it. Percy was the one to pull her out of range, just as it had been Percy who’d tried to defend her against Dr Thorn. Just as Annabeth had tried to defend them both…

They ran. Percy shouted for Artemis, using that same familiarity with the gods that always caught her off guard, and they ran into the dying Huntress. Annabeth, still winded in her grief, just stared at the poisoned bite wound in the girl’s side.

Percy, as always, tried to keep them moving. “Nectar and ambrosia,” he said. “Come on! We have to get her some.” He glanced over his shoulder. The army were just behind them, she registered dully. He was the only one who seemed to care, though. The strength in Annabeth’s body had been broken alongside Luke’s; Thalia, looking down at the Huntress, looked like she’d been punched twice without reprieve; and even Artemis looked frozen in her grief, like her eternal youth was actually just a paralysis she couldn’t escape.

Annabeth felt like she was trapped under the sky again. She could feel the universe pressing down on her, ready to rip and shred and tear her to pieces and crush what remained. Luke was gone. The army were approaching. Even an Olympian didn’t know what to do next. All she wanted to do was lie on the ground and sob.

Then she heard the roar of a biplane’s engines, and: “Get away from my daughter!”

She yanked her head up. A Sopwith Camel swooped out of the sky, its machine guns bursting to life and showering bullets down on the encroaching army. Monsters turned to dust. And flying the plane, his blond hair bright against the darkening sky—

“Dad!?” she yelled.

“Run!”

He soared by, pursuing the army as it tried to flee. Artemis muttered something, then blew on her hunting horn. The sound echoed all the way down into the valleys. Annabeth didn’t turn to look, though in other circumstances she’d have been interested in watching everything Artemis did. She kept her eyes fixed on the plane in the sky.

“That’s… my dad!” she repeated to herself. Monsters were throwing rocks and javelins at him, but he flew just out of range, untouched.

What was he doing here? How did he know where to find her? Why had he come?

A silver chariot appeared beside them, but Annabeth couldn’t tear her eyes away. She climbed into the back haphazardly, distracted. That was her dad?

That was her dad.

Once they were in the air, her dad turned to follow them like an honour guard. Annabeth twisted around to watch him. He waved tentatively; she found herself waving back. Her face hurt, and it took her a while to realise she was grinning.

By the time they landed at Crissy Field, the night had fallen completely, and Artemis’s moonlight soaked the world. Annabeth leapt out of the chariot before they’d even really touched down. When her dad emerged from the Sopwith Camel, she tackled him in a hug.

“Dad! You flew… you shot… oh my gods!” She didn’t know what she was saying. Delight had wiped her clean, but poorly, and there were still muddy streaks of grief and exhaustion and shock left on the glass panes of her soul. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

Her heart was so swollen she thought it might break her ribcage. He’d come to save her? Percy, and Thalia, had come to save her, yeah, but she wasn’t surprised at them. Thalia had only ever tried to save her. And Percy was Percy. That was what they did. But her dad? Her nerdy, insular, distant dad?

She’d thought he would have just left her behind. She’d thought—

His cheeks were beet red. “Well, not bad for a middle-aged mortal, I suppose.”

“But the celestial bronze bullets!” she insisted. “How did you get those?”

“Ah, well. You did leave quite a few half-blood weapons in your room in Virginia, the last time you… left.”

It brought down her mood like a bucket of ice water. When was the last time she’d spoken to him in person? She couldn’t remember—it had probably been an argument again. Another stupid argument between him and her and her stepmother.

Except it hadn’t been stupid. She’d run away over it. She’d been so tired of being ignored and deprioritised, so she’d left and not looked back. They didn’t want her there. She knew better than to stay.

Now, he’d followed. For once, he’d come after her. For once, she wasn’t the one who had to fight off the monsters.

“I decided to try melting some down to make bullet casings,” he admitted. “Just a little experiment.”

He looked so giddy at the thought, it made her affectionate. She knew that investigative instinct. For years, she’d tried to tell herself that she’d got it from Athena, but her dad was a part of her as well. Her dad and her mom had loved each other for a reason.

“Dad…”

“Annabeth,” Thalia interrupted. “Percy…”

Her tone had them both turning around. The Huntress was dying. The sight of her brought back everything that her glee at her dad’s appearance had tried to chase away. She spoke to Thalia, and Annabeth realised that this was Zoë Nightshade, the Huntress that Thalia had complained so much about. They looked at each other and wished they had been sisters. When she passed, the heartbreak in her air compounded her own. Annabeth tried to choke down a sob, but she did it poorly. Her dad heard and put his hands on her shoulders.

They used to hug all the time, she remembered. They both liked physical contact. She leaned back into him and tried to pretend that the only barrier between them was skin.

Artemis placed her Huntress in the stars, but it was clear how upset she was. Her form kept flickering, like she was going to lose control. Annabeth steeled herself. Her dad needed to go. He was in over his head as it was.

Before she could turn to him, though, Artemis put a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. She jolted in surprise, looking into her face and swallowing. Artemis had saved her from under the sky. She had rescued her from her stupid mistake. She owed her everything.

Now would be the time to tell her that. To tell her how badly she wanted to swear herself to her cause, to serve her, to run beside her forever. The Hunters were her escape. Thalia had dodged the prophecy today, but it still loomed; it still doomed her and Percy both. Annabeth would have to watch it happen and be left alone in the aftermath, again. She couldn’t save them. Artemis could rescue her from all this heartbreak. All she had to do was let go.

But that was the one thing Annabeth Chase could not do.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again to look around at Crissy Field in the twilight. They were all bloody, bruised, and exhausted, and there was nowhere else she could picture herself. This was her fight. There was no escaping it, even if she wanted to. Luke was hers; Percy and Thalia were hers; her dad, who shouldn’t be here, was hers. No matter if they left her, by choice or by force, they were hers. She would never love them any less.

Artemis seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking. She didn’t smile, but she inclined her head slightly. “You are brave beyond measure, my girl,” she assured her, her tone almost mournful. “You will do what is right.”

The words settled on her shoulders like falling snow.

Once she’d spoken to the others, Artemis mounted her chariot again. With a flash, she was gone.

“Well, she was impressive,” Annabeth’s dad admitted. “Though I must say I still prefer Athena.”

Her mother’s name—the reminder that he’d loved her, once—broke something in her. She spun around. “Dad, I’m sorry that—”

“Shh.” Usually, Annabeth hated being shushed, but he hugged her tightly. “Do what you must, my dear. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

He sounded afraid, but whatever he was afraid of, he swallowed his fear down. He held her like she was something precious. She didn’t know if she’d ever been held like that by him before.

Pegasi landed behind them. She’d recognise that rush of feathered wings and the clop of hooves anywhere—as well as the way Percy started chatting to them like it was normal. When she glanced up, she had to stifle a smile at her dad’s face.

“Fascinating,” he said, staring in slack-jawed awe. “Such manoeuvrability! How does the wingspan compensate for the weight of the horse’s body, I wonder?” Then his awe faded to something nerdier. More insular. “Why, if the British had had these pegasi in the cavalry charges in the Crimea, the charge of the Light Brigade—”

“Dad!” She tried to hide the edge in her voice. His work always called him back, no matter the circumstance.

He blinked, looked back down at her, and smiled. “I’m sorry, my dear. I know you must go.”

He hugged her again. It was more awkward than before. She didn’t know what to make of it, or when they’d speak next, or even what this meant for them going forward. For once, she tried not to think. She just held him closely.

As she was mounting Percy’s pegasus friend, he called: “Annabeth.”

She looked in his direction.

“I know… I know San Francisco is a dangerous place for you. But please remember you always have a home with us. We will keep you safe.”

Usually, such words were empty. He’d said them before, only to cower when the Cyclopes circled and the hellhounds struck. But now he had bullet casings of celestial bronze, and a biplane to fire them with. What had he said about the move to San Francisco? He’d needed the place for his planes.

She was clutching at straws. But straws were all the two of them had.

Rather than answer and commit, she turned away, blinking hard. He opened his mouth again, then closed it. He raised his hand, then trudged away across the field.

Thalia fell asleep as they flew away. Melancholy was weighing Annabeth down, and Percy tried to make awkward conversation, like he always did. “Your dad seems cool.”

She wasn’t even sure what she said in response. She was too busy looking back, even though San Francisco was miles behind them by now.

Percy hesitated. When he spoke, it was in a smaller voice than she expected. “So… what are you going to do now?”

She wondered how much he knew.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. He wouldn’t hold it against her. “But thank you for rescuing me.”

He shrugged it off, as she’d expected. “Hey, no big deal. We’re friends.”

Her shoulders tightened. Friends. Yeah. He’d done the same for Grover, hadn’t he? But he had an empathy link with Grover, and with her…

She had to know. “You didn’t believe I was dead?”

“Never.”

That made warmth bubble in her chest. To know that Percy had been fixated on coming after her, sure she’d survived, that it wouldn’t be in vain… He knew what it meant to hope. And she knew exactly what he meant when he said that he’d just known she was still alive. Percy, of all people, would understand her when she said…

“Neither is Luke, you know,” she told him. “I mean… he isn’t dead.”

His face dropped. He stared at her like she was insane. “Annabeth, that fall was pretty bad. There’s no way—”

“He isn’t dead! I know it.” She stressed: “The same way you knew about me.”

Percy had saved her. Even if he didn’t believe it, she could still save Luke.

His jaw tightened. She watched him for a while, her heart sinking at his reaction. Percy hated Luke, she remembered. But he trusted her, didn’t he?

They were silent until the lights of New York glowed ahead of them. Blackjack neighed something, and Percy responded fondly.

Before he could go silent again, Annabeth reiterated: “You don’t believe me about Luke, but we’ll see him again. He’s in trouble, Percy. He’s under Kronos’s spell.”

She needed to save him. She could save him. Especially if Percy was here to help her.

Percy had fought his way across the country for her. Her dad had blazed through an army of monsters to let her escape. One had proven just how far you could go to save someone you cared about; the other had proven just how much you could change.

Luke had tried to save her, even as he’d been so badly tricked himself. He could come back. She had to believe that.

Percy still didn’t respond.

The pegasi dropped them off on Mount Olympus. Annabeth hadn’t been to the Winter Solstice celebrations since that fateful event where Luke stole the Master Bolt, but the party hadn’t changed much. The camp delegation were already here, it seemed. She caught sight of a few demigods in the streets as they made their way to the council chamber. Usually, demigods weren’t allowed to attend the Council of the Gods itself, just the celebrations, but Artemis had summoned them, so they forded their way through.

The throne room nearly bowled her over from its sheer presence. All twelve Olympians turned to look at them at once. She steeled herself and stood up straighter when she caught her mother’s gaze. She refused to cower.

Especially after Artemis had risked everything to fix Annabeth’s mistake. Annabeth couldn’t show weakness now.

“Welcome, heroes,” Artemis called.

A weird cow monster hung suspended in the centre of the room in the middle of a sphere of water, which made Annabeth do a double take, but she resolved to ask for details later. Grover had been reporting something at Zeus’s feet, but he ran to greet them when they saw them. Annabeth hugged him tightly, then he grabbed Percy’s arm.

“Bessie and I made it!” The cow thing must be Bessie. “But you have to convince them! They can’t do it!”

“Do what?” Percy asked.

“Heroes,” Artemis repeated. She descended from her throne to meet them in mortal form, her face as serene and emotionless as the moon.

“The Council has been informed of your deeds.” Annabeth flinched. “They know that Mount Othrys is rising in the West. They know of Atlas’s attempt for freedom, and the gathering armies of Kronos.”

Annabeth desperately didn’t look at her mother. What would she think of Annabeth’s stupidity? Luke might be redeemed, but not if Annabeth let herself be tricked like that…

“We have voted to act,” Artemis forged on, ignoring the grumbling of dissent. She described everything they’d decided, and it seemed like the gods had got a lot done in the time it took them to fly here.

Finally, she turned back to her fellow Olympians. “These half-bloods have done Olympus a great service. Would any here deny that?”

The question felt loaded. Annabeth realised that Artemis didn’t look so expressionless because that was her default form—she was hiding something. Was she nervous?

“I gotta say, these kids did okay,” Apollo declared. “Heroes win laurels—”

Hermes interrupted him. “All in favour of not disintegrating them?”

A couple of hands went up, but Annabeth’s breath caught. She realised what Artemis was nervous about—what Apollo had been trying to emphasise with his terrible poetry. Hermes was trying to rush a vote, because…

“Wait just a minute,” Ares growled. “These two”—he pointed at Percy and Thalia, and Annabeth’s head pounded in her chest—“are dangerous. It’d be much safer, while we’ve got them here—”

Annabeth closed her eyes, listening to the sword swing. This was what she’d been afraid of, she reminded herself. This was the threat to her family that she’d been mentally preparing for ever since she met Percy Jackson. It was so much worse than she could have expected.

But Poseidon protested. So did Zeus. Thank the gods. Annabeth relaxed a little.

Then Athena cleared her throat.

“I am proud of my daughter as well.”

Annabeth started, glowing inside a little with the praise. It was true: she had held up the sky. Not many heroes could boast that. Still, having her mother acknowledge that was a surprise. Today was her lucky day with parental affection, it seemed, and her soul uncurled to bask in the sunshine of it like a lazy cat.

Unfortunately, Athena kept talking. “But there is a security risk here, with the other two.”

The cat hissed like a bucket of water had been dumped on it. “Mother!” Annabeth burst out before she could think better of it. Her terror surged back inside her. Athena was the wisest of the gods. It was her counsel that Zeus heeded. “How can you—”

She cut herself off at her mother’s firm look. There was no anger in it, but no patience either. “It is unfortunate that my father, Zeus, and my uncle, Poseidon, chose to break their oath not to have more children. Only Hades kept his word, a fact that I find ironic. As we know from the Great Prophecy, children of the three elder gods, such as Thalia and Percy, are dangerous. As thick-headed as he is, Ares has a point.”

Ares bickered. So did Mr D. And Annabeth had never had high opinions of Dionysus, she’d spent too much time around him for that, but she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She couldn’t believe—

“Athena,” he asked, “do you truly think it safest to destroy them?”

“I do not pass judgement,” Athena said. “I only point out the risk. What we do, the Council must decide.”

The risk? What risk? Percy and Thalia were loyal! They always had been!

Artemis argued back. Annabeth’s respect for her only grew. And she at least got through to Zeus, who conceded: “Perhaps. But the monster at least must be destroyed. We have agreement on that?”

Annabeth relaxed as the conversation moved on. Percy did not.

“Bessie?” he asked. “You want to destroy Bessie?”

Poseidon frowned. “You have named the Ophiotaurus Bessie?”

The pieces fell into place. The Ophiotaurus—serpent-cow—end of Olympus. Preserve or raze. They wanted to destroy the beast before it could destroy them.

Just like Thalia and Percy.

Percy’s defence overflowed with all the passion of everything he ever did. He argued and argued, and Annabeth wondered if he realised he was pleading for his own life alongside Bessie’s. She tried to add her own voice to the chorus, hoping that her mother would listen to her.

“You have to trust them,” she said. She addressed Zeus directly: “Sir, you have to trust them.”

“Trust a hero?” Zeus scoffed.

“Annabeth is right,” Artemis insisted. Annabeth bit her lip. “Which is why I must first make a reward. My faithful companion, Zoë Nightshade, has passed into the stars. I must have a new lieutenant. And I intend to choose one. But first, Father Zeus, I must speak to you privately.”

She stepped forward to speak in his ear. Annabeth frowned. She couldn’t be talking about her, could she? Why would Artemis choose her, at this point? She’d said she was brave, but… She’d also said she’d make the right decision. Annabeth had assumed that Artemis had realised how her feelings had changed.

Percy was standing by her, close enough that she felt it when he went tense.

“Annabeth,” he whispered. “Don’t.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Look, I need to tell you something. I couldn’t stand it if… I don’t want you to…”

Concern gripped her. “Percy? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

He looked pale—almost constipated, with how his lips were twisted. He opened his mouth to speak more, but nothing came out. Before she could push further, Artemis turned to face them.

“I shall have a new lieutenant,” she declared. “If she will accept it.”

“No,” Percy groaned.

“Thalia, Daughter of Zeus. Will you join the Hunt?”

Surprise rippled through the room, but Annabeth found that it didn’t touch her. All she did was blink, then relax. She’d been focused on herself, and on her own interest in the Hunt, but in hindsight it made sense. Thalia had raged so hard against joining. She wouldn’t have put up such a fight if there hadn’t been anything to fight.

Besides. Deep down, past the hurt and the fear, Annabeth had known all along that Thalia couldn’t stay. Ever since she’d come back from the tree, she’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. She would die or she would destroy the world or both. Or, like now, she would find a way out. They’d dodged so many bullets already. One of them had to strike true.

Thalia hesitated, so briefly that none but Annabeth could have noticed it.

She’s going to leave me, a part of her thought.

The rest of her squashed that part with a vengeance. It was so staggeringly selfish that it nearly knocked the breath out of her. She kept a tight control of her face. Her horror at the whole council meeting still had her whole body in a chokehold.

They wanted to kill Thalia and Percy. This was a way for Thalia to live.

So, even as her heart screamed and sobbed at losing someone else, Annabeth smiled. She reached out, squeezed Thalia’s hand, and released her. Thalia let out a breath. They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t speak. But Annabeth felt the understanding they shared, nonetheless.

Thalia stepped forward. “I will,” she said, unflinching. Annabeth thought about that Huntress who’d died. Zoë Nightshade. The Huntress that Thalia had warred with so much when they were on the run. The Huntress who had called them sisters. And for a moment, she thought back to her old aspirations and considered that maybe she should join too.

But as Thalia swore her oath, Annabeth looked sidelong at Percy. Colour had flooded back into his cheeks. His eyes were no longer popping out of his head. What had he said?

I need to tell you something. I couldn’t stand it if… I don’t want you to…

He’d asked her on the flight what she was going to do next, and he’d sounded like he dreaded the answer.

When her smile widened, it wasn’t just for Thalia.

They hugged. Thalia went to stand by Artemis. And they kept talking about killing Percy.

“I’m only fourteen,” Percy tried. “If this prophecy is about me, that’s two more years.”

“Two years for Kronos to deceive you,” Athena pointed out. “Much can change in two years, my young hero.”

“Mother!” Annabeth’s heart, which had started tapdancing at the look in Percy’s eye, was right back in her throat.

“It is only the truth, child. It is bad strategy to keep the animal alive. Or the boy.”

Strategy. Athena’s gentle tone only made this worse. Strategy…

Then Poseidon stood up and vouched for Percy.

Annabeth stared, open-mouthed. She wasn’t the only one. Percy didn’t seem to register its significance, though he clearly looked uncomfortable, but this… this was insane. Poseidon was staking his honour as a god on his bastard demigod, born against a sacred oath. He was putting everything—all his political power—on the line for Percy.

And it worked. They voted not to kill him. They threw a party instead.

Annabeth had wondered, ever since she took the sky, if she would ever breathe easily again. Now, she did.

She went off to explore the party. The Winter Solstice was always a great event, and she wanted to find the other demigods who were undoubtedly there. She lost Percy in the rush and whenever she looked back for him, he was talking to yet another god. Apollo, Hermes… She danced with some random partygoers to while away the time, until she finally saw Poseidon moving away from him. It took her a minute or so to get through the crowd, and when she did—

“Oh… Mom.”

She tried to sound neutral. Right now, she didn’t know what she felt. Athena was proud of her. Athena had argued to kill Percy because it was wise.

It was wise. Maybe? But it still made Annabeth’s insides curl.

“I will leave you,” Athena said. “For now.”

As soon as she was gone, Annabeth demanded, “Was she giving you a hard time?”

“No,” he said, clearly lying. “It’s… fine.”

She studied him. She touched the streak of grey in his hair and felt it like a bond between them. They both knew what it was to hold onto something so vital yet so heavy. He still looked ill.

“So, what did you want to tell me earlier?”

He hesitated. There was so much going on in his face that she didn’t know what to make of it. For a moment, she was terrified he’d say nothing at all. That they’d go back to this stupid dance, she’d go back to her pining, and even if she knew that he’d desperately wanted her not to join the Hunters, nothing would have changed at all.

But despite whatever Athena had told him, he plucked up the courage to say one thing: “I, uh, was thinking we got interrupted at Westover Hall. And… I think I owe you a dance.”

All she could do was smile.                    

They went back to Camp Half-Blood together. Around the Head Counsellors’ table in the Big House, Percy and Grover recounted everything that had happened on the quest. Annabeth found herself smiling even more widely when she found out that Percy hadn’t been allowed on the quest, at first. He’d come after her anyway. When he caught her grateful gaze, he blushed. And he admitted that Luke was alive, even if he didn’t seem happy about it. He knew that she’d been right!

The rest of the conversation was depressing. The incoming war loomed, and then they had to talk about a potential attack on camp, and then Percy was stepping outside to tell Nico di Angelo his sister was dead. Annabeth watched him go, his shoulders tense but his jaw set.

That was how she found him too, standing next to a new fissure in the ground. She did everything she could to help him search, to no avail.

There was a son of Hades running around out there. Another prophecy child. Someone else to take the burden…

Annabeth hated herself for the hope she felt.

“We can’t go telling anyone,” Percy insisted. “Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—”

“It might start them fighting among each other again,” she understood immediately. “That’s the last thing we need.”

“You can’t hide things from the gods. Not forever,” Grover pointed out.

Annabeth was in the middle of making a plan when Percy damned himself. “I don’t need forever,” he said. “Just two years. Until I’m sixteen.”

He might as well have punched her. “But, Percy,” she protested, “this means the prophecy might not be about you. It might be about Nico.” Please let it be about Nico. “We have to—”

“No. I choose the prophecy. It will be about me.”

“Why are you saying that?” she demanded. Her terror was back. She felt like she was standing in front of the Olympian Council again, one stray word away from watching her best friend get summarily executed. “You want to be responsible for the whole world?”

Of course he didn’t. She could see it in his face. But she could also tell that he wasn’t going to back down.

And if he wasn’t, neither was she.

They stared at each other. Finally, she took a breath. “If Luke gets hold of him…” she warned.

“Luke won’t. I’ll make sure he’s got other things to worry about. Namely, me.”

She watched the way his shoulders settled into that obstinate stance of his. She imagined this must’ve been what he looked like when they told him he couldn’t go on the quest to rescue her. The thought made her heart flutter.

She would figure it out.

A plan. She needed a plan, then she could figure out how to save him.

There was a war coming. She knew that. She’d known that for a long time. Percy was going to run headfirst into it, and whatever happened, she’d be at his side. The prophecy hung like the Sword of Damocles over his head, but she would figure it out. Prophecies were never set in stone. There were always loopholes. She would find one. For Percy, who always came back for her, she would think of a way to outwit the Fates themselves. And if she could get Luke to come back too…

It was a lot to carry. She knew they could bear it. The three of them—her, Percy, and Luke—were the only living demigods who had held up the sky. And Annabeth, especially, knew how not to let go.