shiiki
in
shiikifics
FIC: The Impossible Maze, Chpt 19
Title: The Impossible Maze (Daughter of Wisdom 4)
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan, Tyson, Grover Underwood, Rachel Dare, Nico di Angelo, various others, Gen with developing Percy/Annabeth
Fandom: Percy Jackson
Summary: Annabeth Chase has finally gotten her chance to lead a quest, but the stakes have never been so high. With war on the horizon, she and her friends must navigate the Labyrinth to find its creator and convince him to help Camp Half-Blood. But the Labyrinth is more than just a physical maze-in its twist and turns, Annabeth must not only confront the Titan army’s monsters, but her own fears, hopes, and scariest of all, her developing feelings for her best friend. An alternate PoV retelling of The Battle of the Labyrinth.
In this chapter
Chapter Title: Percy Gate-Crashes His Funeral
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Annabeth Chase, Chiron, Clarisse La Rue, Aphrodite, Percy Jackson, Hephaestus
Word Count: 2,605
Chapter Summary: Annabeth tries to let go of Percy, only to get a big surprise.
Notes: The timeline of these two chapters was worked out very carefully in accordance with canon. Points if you can place when and why certain events took place!
Back to Fic Content Page
The news of Quintus's desertion left the camp in a state of panic. Half the campers were convinced he had gone to join Luke. The other half believed he'd run before the invasion could begin. Either way, our spirits were at an all-time low. It didn't help that two nights later, Chiron announced at dinnertime that it was time to prepare for Percy's funeral.
'Annabeth, I thought you could make the speech,' he said.
'No,' I said. 'We can't give up.' I looked among the other tables, looking for someone to back me up. Everybody suddenly developed an interest in the dinner plates.
When I stopped by the infirmary later, Clarisse dragged herself away from Chris's bedside long enough to berate me. 'Thought Prissy was your friend.'
'He is.'
'Right. That's why you're refusing to honour him.'
'I'm refusing to believe he's d-he's gone.'
Clarisse shook her head. 'It's our custom. We always burn a shroud if heroes don't come back.'
I cast a pointed look at Chris. 'Are you making one for Chris?'
Her fists came up. 'Don't even joke about that.'
'I'm not joking. You're telling me to give up on Percy, but you're not giving up on Chris.'
'Chris is here. I don't see your little boyfriend anywhere.'
I crossed my arms and turned away, not bothering to correct her.
'Look, the funeral's tomorrow. Just make a shroud and say something sappy. If you wont' do it, I will,' she threatened.
I gave in. The last time Clarisse was in charge of making Percy a shroud, it had been nothing but a bedsheet with marker-ink patterns and the word LOSER scrawled over it. Although I didn't think Clarisse would really be mean enough to mess up Percy's memorial speech and shroud now, I couldn't let him have anything but the best. I owed him that much.
I wove the shroud myself. I brought the loom into the empty Poseidon cabin. No one stopped me.
In the back of the cabin was a scatter of grey rock and glittering coral. I vaguely remembered Tyson saying something about Percy destroying their water fountain on the morning we entered the Labyrinth. I'd never asked why. It was too late now.
I set up my loom next to the shattered remains of the fountain and began to weave. A perpetual breeze flowed through the cabin, like salty sea air. It seemed to infuse itself into the green silk between my fingers. A trident was etched into the wall above the bunk beds, the same symbol that had flashed over Percy's head the night he'd been claimed. I embroidered it into the fabric of the shroud.
I wove all through the night, taking infinite care with my work. When I was done, I cut the thread with my dagger. The knife trembled in my hands. I put it down and ran my hands over the silky material of the shroud. It was the exact colour of Percy's eyes, with a shimmer that would catch the sunlight just like his did, like a sunbeam on water.
Tears came. I climbed into Percy's bunk. It was empty and unmade, like he'd crawled straight out of it on the morning of our quest.
He'd never make his bed again.
I wrapped the shroud around myself and wept. My tears fell into the fabric, drowning it in my sorrow. My heart felt like a rag that had been wrung out too often. Surely there had to be a statute of limitations on how many times a heart could break?
At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because for the first time in two weeks, I had a dream.
I saw a gorgeous woman lounging on a settee with a bucket of popcorn in her lap. She looked like a film star with her elaborate, chestnut-brown curls and perfect, pore-less skin. I don't think she ever looked the same any two times I'd seen her, but you always knew when you lay eyes on Aphrodite. It sent this irrational haze of inadequacy and resentment bubbling through me, like her overwhelming beauty had stolen something from me, leaving me pale and drab.
Her eyes were fixed on a tiny box television. It was the old-fashioned kind, with an aerial sticking out the back. The pictures on the screen were in black and white. They showed a dinner table that had been laid out for a romantic evening: a centrepiece with flickering candles, two elegant glasses, fine silver crockery. The actors weren't on screen yet.
'Tonight, on Calypso's Island …' said the television narrator.
Aphrodite had drawn out a fistful of popcorn, but her hand paused on the way to her mouth. Her cherry-red lips broke into a dazzling smile. 'Oh, this is going to be so good! I knew the desert island gig would be an entertainment gold mine.' She raised her remote and paused the show. 'Darling, do you want to come watch?'
A gruff, booming voice yelled back, 'Don't call me darling!'
Aphrodite giggled and went back to her show. She pressed play, but the programme didn't resume. Frowning, she banged the remote against the arm of the settee. It didn't work.
'Hephaestus!' she complained. 'What did you do with my show?'
I heard the heavy, uneven footsteps of the mechanic clomping about in the other room. 'What'd you want to watch that for, anyway? Been centuries since that show's had any new material.'
'But it finally has a new twist! Haven't you been following? Another lost hero … will he finally be the one?'
The footsteps stopped abruptly.
'Hephaestus?'
Silence from the other room.
'Miserable old cynic,' Aphrodite grumbled, flinging her handful of popcorn at the door. 'You'd better be going to fix my reception!'
I ducked the shower of popcorn. Aphrodite sat up and stared at me.
'Oh!' Her eyes sparkled. 'Well, never mind, this is even better! Hello, my dear.' She patted the cushion beside her. Against their will, my legs carried me over to the settee and deposited me next to her.
'I've been following your live feed avidly,' she said. 'It's even better than Days of Our (Eternal) Lives, or Ithaca Girls! Didn't I tell you your love life had so much potential for a good story?'
She lifted her remote and changed the channel. My angry retort died on my lips when I saw the image that flickered to life on the screen. It was me, outlined in sepia tones, framed in the doorway of my dad's house in San Francisco. Luke stood in front of me, wringing his hands.
'I love that scene.' Aphrodite's delicate eyelashes fluttered. 'So rife with emotion. All that pent-up hostility. The accusations about another lover.'
My cheeks burned. 'That-that's not what happened at all. I wasn't-I didn't love-'
Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. She pressed another button on her remote. The scene fast-forwarded to one that made my face flame as brightly as the volcanic backdrop: Percy and me, locked in a desperate kiss.
A strangled noise escaped my throat, half-sob, half-choke. Aphrodite smiled smugly.
'My husband thinks he has the market cornered on entertainment, but puh-lease. Family sitcoms, game shows, action flicks? Bor-ing. People want drama. They want misunderstandings, and UST, and heartbreak.'
Heartbreak. The word stabbed me in the chest. 'You orchestrated all of this?'
'Of course not!' Aphrodite sighed like she wished she had. 'Nobody can control what the Fates write. But I keep a close eye on all their works. FateFiction dot net has a wonderful subscription service now. And maybe I do send them an idea or two from time to time. You know, to help them when they get writers' block. I know what makes a good love story.'
'I'm not your-I don't-please stop.'
'Stop?' Aphrodite clasped her hands together. 'Without knowing your final choice? The audience would be devastated! Then again, a cliffy might raise the show's ratings …' She pursed her lips.
I wanted to fling her remote at the TV. On screen, I was at the door to the ice caves. I couldn't watch what came next. 'I made my choice. It was a disaster.'
Aphrodite smiled knowingly. 'Oh, dearie. Did you think you would only have one choice to make?'
It was the same thing Hera had said. I still didn't know what they meant by it.
'Here,' Aphrodite said. 'You'll want to see this.' She waved her remote. The screen buzzed. Black and grey lines zigzagged across it. Then it resolved into a close-up image of the face that I longed so badly to see.
I stumbled forward to the TV screen, pressing my fingers to the static picture of Percy's cheeks. The screen widened. I fell through onto a moonlit beach dotted with seashells and starfish. Aphrodite and her settee were gone. I was invisible, a ghost, watching Percy stroll down the soft, white sand.
Foamy waves lapped at the shore's edge. It was the most beautiful beach I'd ever seen, pristine and untrammelled by man. I knew right away that no litter had ever polluted these shores; no tourist had ever befouled this piece of nature. Its perfection made my breath catch in my throat.
I was sure nothing like this existed in our world.
Percy arrived at a little cove by the water's edge and took a seat on a rock. He stared out over the water. His brow was furrowed, with a rare crease in his forehead. I'd seen it before when he'd asked me about his prophecy last year, and just before he'd insisted on claiming it to protect Nico.
I drank in the sight of him. After weeks spent worrying about him, replaying my last image of him, doused in fire, it was a relief to see him whole and healthy-more than healthy, in fact. His face was clean and shining, not a bruise or scratch on it. Though his expression was brooding, it bore no trace of pain. His skin glowed, like he'd been bathing in moonlight.
He was perfect.
I missed him so much, my heart ached. I didn't know where he was-Elysium, maybe. I had no doubt he'd be given entrance to the selective Underworld community for heroes. But wherever he was, it was peaceful and safe, free from the burden of prophecies and deadly choices.
He was in a better place, just like Hera had said.
I woke with that picture of him still in my head. I thought of the way he'd glowed, like Bianca di Angelo when we'd summoned her on Geryon's ranch. She'd told Nico not to bring her back to life. 'If you love me, don't try,' she'd said.
Did you think you would only have one choice to make? This, too, was a choice.
I had to let Percy go.
'Isn't there a rule against spending the night in a different cabin?'
I looked up and almost screamed. Standing in the centre of the cabin was a giant of a man, with a wild beard full of sparks.
'L-Lord Hephaestus. What are you doing here?'
He'd cleaned up his appearance since I'd seen him at his workshop. He now wore a clean, button-down shirt and jeans without holes or grease stains. It looked as if he'd just gone visiting or something. His leg was still in the walking brace, but the straps were neatly tucked in. He was leaning on a metal cane.
'Promised you an answer, didn't I?'
'Um, yes, but I thought … it's been two weeks. I didn't think you'd …' In all honesty, I'd written him off completely. 'I didn't think you'd come in person.'
'Had a bunch of situations to take care of,' Hephaestus said gruffly. 'Took me a while.'
'Situations?'
'I take it you didn't find the inventor after all?'
My stomach twisted. 'He wasn't here.'
'He most certainly isn't now.'
'No, he wasn't at all. You told me to come back to camp, but I found nothing!'
'My intel was sound,' he said. 'Ain't my fault you didn't make use of it.'
I sprung to my feet. This was Hera and her false offer of help all over again. 'It's not fair-you promised to give us information on Daedalus. We did your favour. Percy even-' My voice faltered. I stamped my foot. 'You're just like Hera!'
Hephaestus's eyes glittered. For a second, I thought I might be in danger of getting blasted. Part of me even relished it. I would have deserved it. Maybe I'd even see Percy again.
Then Hephaestus scratched his beard. 'I don't think you meant that? I can never tell, with mortals. You always let your emotions speak for you. I can't even figure out which ones you're experiencing. Machines are so much easier.' He sighed. 'I came to tell you this, girl. Your quest is not complete.'
'What do you mean?'
'Prepare yourself,' he said.
'Prepare-prepare for what?'
Hephaestus started to glow. So desperate was I for answers that I didn't immediately look away. But he didn't take his true form. He burst into a column of flame that drifted out the window, fortunately without catching the cabin alight.
+++
The funeral took place after breakfast the next morning. I couldn't eat a single bite. My stomach was tight as a drum. After Hephaestus had gone, I'd remained on Percy's bunk, trying to string words together for his eulogy. Chiron had come to find me at last. He'd shaken his head upon finding me in cabin three, but he hadn't reprimanded me.
We set up the campfire in the amphitheatre. Chiron lit the pyre. It took a while before a black flame rose. With the mood so low, there was no magic to help it along.
When the campfire finally spread across the pit, Chiron banged his hoof against the ceremonial stones at the edge-once, twice, all the way to twelve times, the sacred number of the Olympians. There was a hush around the amphitheatre. No one had been talking, but now even the crackle and pop of the fire was barely audible.
'We gather to honour a fallen hero, a beloved friend who was an example to us all. Although we hoped that the Fates would bring better news, at this time we can only assume he is dead. After so long a silence, it is unlikely our prayers will be answered.' Chiron turned and nodded to me. 'I have asked his best surviving friend to do the final honours.'
I walked forward, Percy's shroud in my hands. When I threw it onto the fire, it was as if my heart was burning up alongside it.
A salty breeze swept through the air, the sea paying tribute to its own. I turned away from the fire, to the campers who sat watching, holding a collective breath. My throat was dry and sticky.
'Percy is …' I swallowed and started again. 'He was probably the bravest friend I've ever had.' The past tense tasted like ashes in my mouth. 'He …'
My voice died. Someone was walking up from the back of the amphitheatre. Surely I was seeing things. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe my grief had driven me to hallucination. Maybe he was a ghost.
But he was completely solid. And I was pretty sure if my mind were to conjure up an image of Percy now, he wouldn't have such an infuriating, lopsided smirk, like he was walking in on the funniest joke he'd ever heard.
Prepare yourself, Hephaestus had said.
After two weeks, Percy had returned.
Chapter 20
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan, Tyson, Grover Underwood, Rachel Dare, Nico di Angelo, various others, Gen with developing Percy/Annabeth
Fandom: Percy Jackson
Summary: Annabeth Chase has finally gotten her chance to lead a quest, but the stakes have never been so high. With war on the horizon, she and her friends must navigate the Labyrinth to find its creator and convince him to help Camp Half-Blood. But the Labyrinth is more than just a physical maze-in its twist and turns, Annabeth must not only confront the Titan army’s monsters, but her own fears, hopes, and scariest of all, her developing feelings for her best friend. An alternate PoV retelling of The Battle of the Labyrinth.
In this chapter
Chapter Title: Percy Gate-Crashes His Funeral
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Annabeth Chase, Chiron, Clarisse La Rue, Aphrodite, Percy Jackson, Hephaestus
Word Count: 2,605
Chapter Summary: Annabeth tries to let go of Percy, only to get a big surprise.
Notes: The timeline of these two chapters was worked out very carefully in accordance with canon. Points if you can place when and why certain events took place!
Back to Fic Content Page
The news of Quintus's desertion left the camp in a state of panic. Half the campers were convinced he had gone to join Luke. The other half believed he'd run before the invasion could begin. Either way, our spirits were at an all-time low. It didn't help that two nights later, Chiron announced at dinnertime that it was time to prepare for Percy's funeral.
'Annabeth, I thought you could make the speech,' he said.
'No,' I said. 'We can't give up.' I looked among the other tables, looking for someone to back me up. Everybody suddenly developed an interest in the dinner plates.
When I stopped by the infirmary later, Clarisse dragged herself away from Chris's bedside long enough to berate me. 'Thought Prissy was your friend.'
'He is.'
'Right. That's why you're refusing to honour him.'
'I'm refusing to believe he's d-he's gone.'
Clarisse shook her head. 'It's our custom. We always burn a shroud if heroes don't come back.'
I cast a pointed look at Chris. 'Are you making one for Chris?'
Her fists came up. 'Don't even joke about that.'
'I'm not joking. You're telling me to give up on Percy, but you're not giving up on Chris.'
'Chris is here. I don't see your little boyfriend anywhere.'
I crossed my arms and turned away, not bothering to correct her.
'Look, the funeral's tomorrow. Just make a shroud and say something sappy. If you wont' do it, I will,' she threatened.
I gave in. The last time Clarisse was in charge of making Percy a shroud, it had been nothing but a bedsheet with marker-ink patterns and the word LOSER scrawled over it. Although I didn't think Clarisse would really be mean enough to mess up Percy's memorial speech and shroud now, I couldn't let him have anything but the best. I owed him that much.
I wove the shroud myself. I brought the loom into the empty Poseidon cabin. No one stopped me.
In the back of the cabin was a scatter of grey rock and glittering coral. I vaguely remembered Tyson saying something about Percy destroying their water fountain on the morning we entered the Labyrinth. I'd never asked why. It was too late now.
I set up my loom next to the shattered remains of the fountain and began to weave. A perpetual breeze flowed through the cabin, like salty sea air. It seemed to infuse itself into the green silk between my fingers. A trident was etched into the wall above the bunk beds, the same symbol that had flashed over Percy's head the night he'd been claimed. I embroidered it into the fabric of the shroud.
I wove all through the night, taking infinite care with my work. When I was done, I cut the thread with my dagger. The knife trembled in my hands. I put it down and ran my hands over the silky material of the shroud. It was the exact colour of Percy's eyes, with a shimmer that would catch the sunlight just like his did, like a sunbeam on water.
Tears came. I climbed into Percy's bunk. It was empty and unmade, like he'd crawled straight out of it on the morning of our quest.
He'd never make his bed again.
I wrapped the shroud around myself and wept. My tears fell into the fabric, drowning it in my sorrow. My heart felt like a rag that had been wrung out too often. Surely there had to be a statute of limitations on how many times a heart could break?
At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because for the first time in two weeks, I had a dream.
I saw a gorgeous woman lounging on a settee with a bucket of popcorn in her lap. She looked like a film star with her elaborate, chestnut-brown curls and perfect, pore-less skin. I don't think she ever looked the same any two times I'd seen her, but you always knew when you lay eyes on Aphrodite. It sent this irrational haze of inadequacy and resentment bubbling through me, like her overwhelming beauty had stolen something from me, leaving me pale and drab.
Her eyes were fixed on a tiny box television. It was the old-fashioned kind, with an aerial sticking out the back. The pictures on the screen were in black and white. They showed a dinner table that had been laid out for a romantic evening: a centrepiece with flickering candles, two elegant glasses, fine silver crockery. The actors weren't on screen yet.
'Tonight, on Calypso's Island …' said the television narrator.
Aphrodite had drawn out a fistful of popcorn, but her hand paused on the way to her mouth. Her cherry-red lips broke into a dazzling smile. 'Oh, this is going to be so good! I knew the desert island gig would be an entertainment gold mine.' She raised her remote and paused the show. 'Darling, do you want to come watch?'
A gruff, booming voice yelled back, 'Don't call me darling!'
Aphrodite giggled and went back to her show. She pressed play, but the programme didn't resume. Frowning, she banged the remote against the arm of the settee. It didn't work.
'Hephaestus!' she complained. 'What did you do with my show?'
I heard the heavy, uneven footsteps of the mechanic clomping about in the other room. 'What'd you want to watch that for, anyway? Been centuries since that show's had any new material.'
'But it finally has a new twist! Haven't you been following? Another lost hero … will he finally be the one?'
The footsteps stopped abruptly.
'Hephaestus?'
Silence from the other room.
'Miserable old cynic,' Aphrodite grumbled, flinging her handful of popcorn at the door. 'You'd better be going to fix my reception!'
I ducked the shower of popcorn. Aphrodite sat up and stared at me.
'Oh!' Her eyes sparkled. 'Well, never mind, this is even better! Hello, my dear.' She patted the cushion beside her. Against their will, my legs carried me over to the settee and deposited me next to her.
'I've been following your live feed avidly,' she said. 'It's even better than Days of Our (Eternal) Lives, or Ithaca Girls! Didn't I tell you your love life had so much potential for a good story?'
She lifted her remote and changed the channel. My angry retort died on my lips when I saw the image that flickered to life on the screen. It was me, outlined in sepia tones, framed in the doorway of my dad's house in San Francisco. Luke stood in front of me, wringing his hands.
'I love that scene.' Aphrodite's delicate eyelashes fluttered. 'So rife with emotion. All that pent-up hostility. The accusations about another lover.'
My cheeks burned. 'That-that's not what happened at all. I wasn't-I didn't love-'
Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. She pressed another button on her remote. The scene fast-forwarded to one that made my face flame as brightly as the volcanic backdrop: Percy and me, locked in a desperate kiss.
A strangled noise escaped my throat, half-sob, half-choke. Aphrodite smiled smugly.
'My husband thinks he has the market cornered on entertainment, but puh-lease. Family sitcoms, game shows, action flicks? Bor-ing. People want drama. They want misunderstandings, and UST, and heartbreak.'
Heartbreak. The word stabbed me in the chest. 'You orchestrated all of this?'
'Of course not!' Aphrodite sighed like she wished she had. 'Nobody can control what the Fates write. But I keep a close eye on all their works. FateFiction dot net has a wonderful subscription service now. And maybe I do send them an idea or two from time to time. You know, to help them when they get writers' block. I know what makes a good love story.'
'I'm not your-I don't-please stop.'
'Stop?' Aphrodite clasped her hands together. 'Without knowing your final choice? The audience would be devastated! Then again, a cliffy might raise the show's ratings …' She pursed her lips.
I wanted to fling her remote at the TV. On screen, I was at the door to the ice caves. I couldn't watch what came next. 'I made my choice. It was a disaster.'
Aphrodite smiled knowingly. 'Oh, dearie. Did you think you would only have one choice to make?'
It was the same thing Hera had said. I still didn't know what they meant by it.
'Here,' Aphrodite said. 'You'll want to see this.' She waved her remote. The screen buzzed. Black and grey lines zigzagged across it. Then it resolved into a close-up image of the face that I longed so badly to see.
I stumbled forward to the TV screen, pressing my fingers to the static picture of Percy's cheeks. The screen widened. I fell through onto a moonlit beach dotted with seashells and starfish. Aphrodite and her settee were gone. I was invisible, a ghost, watching Percy stroll down the soft, white sand.
Foamy waves lapped at the shore's edge. It was the most beautiful beach I'd ever seen, pristine and untrammelled by man. I knew right away that no litter had ever polluted these shores; no tourist had ever befouled this piece of nature. Its perfection made my breath catch in my throat.
I was sure nothing like this existed in our world.
Percy arrived at a little cove by the water's edge and took a seat on a rock. He stared out over the water. His brow was furrowed, with a rare crease in his forehead. I'd seen it before when he'd asked me about his prophecy last year, and just before he'd insisted on claiming it to protect Nico.
I drank in the sight of him. After weeks spent worrying about him, replaying my last image of him, doused in fire, it was a relief to see him whole and healthy-more than healthy, in fact. His face was clean and shining, not a bruise or scratch on it. Though his expression was brooding, it bore no trace of pain. His skin glowed, like he'd been bathing in moonlight.
He was perfect.
I missed him so much, my heart ached. I didn't know where he was-Elysium, maybe. I had no doubt he'd be given entrance to the selective Underworld community for heroes. But wherever he was, it was peaceful and safe, free from the burden of prophecies and deadly choices.
He was in a better place, just like Hera had said.
I woke with that picture of him still in my head. I thought of the way he'd glowed, like Bianca di Angelo when we'd summoned her on Geryon's ranch. She'd told Nico not to bring her back to life. 'If you love me, don't try,' she'd said.
Did you think you would only have one choice to make? This, too, was a choice.
I had to let Percy go.
'Isn't there a rule against spending the night in a different cabin?'
I looked up and almost screamed. Standing in the centre of the cabin was a giant of a man, with a wild beard full of sparks.
'L-Lord Hephaestus. What are you doing here?'
He'd cleaned up his appearance since I'd seen him at his workshop. He now wore a clean, button-down shirt and jeans without holes or grease stains. It looked as if he'd just gone visiting or something. His leg was still in the walking brace, but the straps were neatly tucked in. He was leaning on a metal cane.
'Promised you an answer, didn't I?'
'Um, yes, but I thought … it's been two weeks. I didn't think you'd …' In all honesty, I'd written him off completely. 'I didn't think you'd come in person.'
'Had a bunch of situations to take care of,' Hephaestus said gruffly. 'Took me a while.'
'Situations?'
'I take it you didn't find the inventor after all?'
My stomach twisted. 'He wasn't here.'
'He most certainly isn't now.'
'No, he wasn't at all. You told me to come back to camp, but I found nothing!'
'My intel was sound,' he said. 'Ain't my fault you didn't make use of it.'
I sprung to my feet. This was Hera and her false offer of help all over again. 'It's not fair-you promised to give us information on Daedalus. We did your favour. Percy even-' My voice faltered. I stamped my foot. 'You're just like Hera!'
Hephaestus's eyes glittered. For a second, I thought I might be in danger of getting blasted. Part of me even relished it. I would have deserved it. Maybe I'd even see Percy again.
Then Hephaestus scratched his beard. 'I don't think you meant that? I can never tell, with mortals. You always let your emotions speak for you. I can't even figure out which ones you're experiencing. Machines are so much easier.' He sighed. 'I came to tell you this, girl. Your quest is not complete.'
'What do you mean?'
'Prepare yourself,' he said.
'Prepare-prepare for what?'
Hephaestus started to glow. So desperate was I for answers that I didn't immediately look away. But he didn't take his true form. He burst into a column of flame that drifted out the window, fortunately without catching the cabin alight.
+++
The funeral took place after breakfast the next morning. I couldn't eat a single bite. My stomach was tight as a drum. After Hephaestus had gone, I'd remained on Percy's bunk, trying to string words together for his eulogy. Chiron had come to find me at last. He'd shaken his head upon finding me in cabin three, but he hadn't reprimanded me.
We set up the campfire in the amphitheatre. Chiron lit the pyre. It took a while before a black flame rose. With the mood so low, there was no magic to help it along.
When the campfire finally spread across the pit, Chiron banged his hoof against the ceremonial stones at the edge-once, twice, all the way to twelve times, the sacred number of the Olympians. There was a hush around the amphitheatre. No one had been talking, but now even the crackle and pop of the fire was barely audible.
'We gather to honour a fallen hero, a beloved friend who was an example to us all. Although we hoped that the Fates would bring better news, at this time we can only assume he is dead. After so long a silence, it is unlikely our prayers will be answered.' Chiron turned and nodded to me. 'I have asked his best surviving friend to do the final honours.'
I walked forward, Percy's shroud in my hands. When I threw it onto the fire, it was as if my heart was burning up alongside it.
A salty breeze swept through the air, the sea paying tribute to its own. I turned away from the fire, to the campers who sat watching, holding a collective breath. My throat was dry and sticky.
'Percy is …' I swallowed and started again. 'He was probably the bravest friend I've ever had.' The past tense tasted like ashes in my mouth. 'He …'
My voice died. Someone was walking up from the back of the amphitheatre. Surely I was seeing things. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe my grief had driven me to hallucination. Maybe he was a ghost.
But he was completely solid. And I was pretty sure if my mind were to conjure up an image of Percy now, he wouldn't have such an infuriating, lopsided smirk, like he was walking in on the funniest joke he'd ever heard.
Prepare yourself, Hephaestus had said.
After two weeks, Percy had returned.
Chapter 20