Chapter Text
"Can you walk?" Annabeth hummed, supporting Alabaster by holding onto his arms.
"Of course I can." Alabaster scoffed, trying to pull himself to his feet. Just as soon as he managed to get upright, his knees gave out. Annabeth winced right as Alabaster hit the floor again; clutching his left leg, doubled over and mouth open in a silent scream.
"I'll take that as a no."
Alabaster sent a half-hearted glare on her way and rose again while using her leg as a grab hold. He raised his chin haughtily which Annabeth rolled her eyes at. After swaying in his place for a few seconds, he attempted to put his weight on his left foot. Big mistake there, in her humblest opinion. Alabaster's knees buckled, leaving him scrambling in haste to unsuccessfully grab the wall to stop his falling—
And sent him right in Annabeth’s arms.
She wrapped her arms around his torso, steadying him against herself. His head rested between her chin and collarbone, slumped in defeat. They must've looked like a Janus-flamingo from the outside, what with how Alabaster held his left leg bent. If Alabaster had been a little less taller, he would've fit perfectly in her arms; she told him as such.
"My knight in shining armour," Alabaster drawled. Annabeth snorted, adjusting her grip so she didn't strain her shoulder again.
There weren't anything shining on either of them, not really, unless the glint of dried blood counted. How much of it was even Alabaster's anyway? He wasn't injured, other than the fact that half of his flesh was seared off, probably had a broken leg, and was coming with a fever. No open wounds.
"Where to?"
"Somewhere safe." Annabeth murmured.
"Okay," he exhaled, resting his chin on her shoulder, clinging to her arms unconsciously.
Alabaster was draped over her like they were kids again; as if Luke was in her place and she was watching him drag Alabaster to infirmary while the Ares counselor before Clarisse had tried to explain herself in sobs to Chiron, of how she hadn't meant to hold his head inside the toilet long enough for him to lose consciousness, the brat antagonised her, it had been an accident.
One of the things Annabeth liked about Clarisse was that she only dunked people in for a few seconds, repeatedly, and not held them there for minutes like Madison.
Still it had been a tragedy that she'd died because her principal had turned out to be a monster in disguise...
Speaking of swirlie victims, Percy was twisting Riptide's cap in his hand. Still like a statue, like he was still frozen by Hecate, the only emotion showing on his face being his eyes that raged with the full fury of the waves of his birthright. She knew Percy, she knew that expression. She had seen it four years ago, on the last day of summer, when he had beaten the effects of scorpion venom: Betrayal.
His thumb moved to pop off the cap; Annabeth froze at the echoing words of the triple goddess and suddenly she was seven and screaming as Thalia was eaten alive by Hades's army, fourteen and watching the whole council debate if two teenagers were worthy of life, fifteen and laying awake at night, trying to shut down the recurring yells of cursed blades and to worse than deaths—
"Percy!" She hissed, heart beating her ribcage. "Percy come on, let's go."
He blinked twice slowly before co*cking his head in a dolphin-like manner.
"Let’s go." She repeated firmly. Percy waddled towards her, glaring at the elevator the whole time but he didn’t, thankfully, argue.
Percy moved to help her carry Alabaster; only to stop as Alabaster bared his teeth, digging his nails into her forearms and hunching his shoulders.
"If he touches me," Alabaster snarled, eyes glowing in what Annabeth could only name as hatred, "I'll bite his hands off."
Her stomach sank.
'Are you willing to make a choice between old and new friends if it comes to that?'
Annabeth could swear the Titaness was laughing up on Olympus. How much of it was a prediction, and how well did Hecate know her son? The knife strapped to her hip was taunting her; daring, begging her to plunge it right through the nearest immortal's neck, coating it with ichor.
Athena had thought that she had to choose between her loyalty to Olympus, and her mother, and Percy; until this morning. Hecate wanted her to prioritise either her son or Percy. The one person who could match her vigor exact, the one who was always waiting two steps behind when she was six ahead or the one person who had chosen her over and over again, the one who had never abandoned her.
Alabaster was her friend. Both of them were her friends.
Annabeth had enough of immortals dictating her life. No. No; just as she had told the Titaness, she was not choosing.
"Hurt him and I'll make you eat the floor again." She murmured, squeezing Alabaster in warning.
The marble floors of Empire State Building were coloured red from several Alabaster-shaped bloodstains. Alabaster stared at them for a few seconds, before turning his gaze towards her. He narrowed his eyes, Annabeth did the same in response.
"Tell your little boyfriend to back off then." Alabaster huffed.
"He is not my boyfriend!" She whisper yelled.
"Look at how he is blushing, you have him wrapped right around your finger, don't you Chase?"
A quick peek at Percy confirmed Alabaster's observation. He was standing beside the son of Hecate, hands hovering close to his chest and pink dusting his cheeks. She averted her gaze as imaginary feathers tickled her guts, her face tingling weirdly.
"Oh shut up, Torrington."
She chose to ignore his little smirk and beckoned Percy to follow her instead.
"Where are we going?" Percy asked.
"Camp."
Alabaster stiffened in her grip, eyes frantically wide as his head snapped up. "No, we're not!"
"Yes, we are—"
"No!" Alabaster thrashed, "you said 'somewhere safe'. You can't make me go back there. This is a kidnapping!"
"I got your mother's permission." Annabeth heaved out. At least that's how she had interpreted it. And even if she was wrong, she did not care what Hecate thought.
She stared at his big green, almost pleading eyes once he did not answer. "Camp Half-Blood is safe. I promise."
Even if it was certainly not safe last year, due to the army the boy in her arms belonged. She dismissed the memory of Castor's broken body the second it resurfaced, dead from a blow from another demigod.
Alabaster swallowed a few times, stilling. "Alright... I trust you."
'That easily?', Annabeth bit down on her tongue before she could ask. The hobble outside went past in silence, if the rare whimpers from Alabaster got excluded.
She held her breath as they came in front of the doors. If she peered from the glass she would no doubt see the broken corpses of Kronos's demigods. With dread pooling deep in her stomach, she pushed the doors open.
Nothing. No bodies, no debris. There was nothing.
"What?" Alabaster whispered.
The streets were pristine clear; as if someone came and scrubbed them and the blood out with a giant bar of soap, as if the damage of carnage had never existed in the first place. Hordes of mortals waltzed around, unaware of the violence that had been taking place in the city the past few days, or the danger they had been in.
"What did they do to them?" He hissed, face scrunched up in pain, "What did they do to my siblings?"
She hugged him as close as possible while the mortals droned around them. The buzzing sounds of their chattering could just might have been white noise to her right now.
Percy broke through it in frenzy. "Where are my parents? Mom? Paul?"
"They probably got away from the crowd." Annabeth sent him a what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Nico is with them, remember? He wouldn't let them get hurt."
He nodded, eyes still searching the crowd. They pushed past the mortals, Annabeth leading way till they reached a white van that she knew had DELPHI STRAWBERRY SERVICES printed on its side. The side door slid open.
A blonde boy stepped out of the van, shaking off the plaster, dirt and dust on his head, and fixed his glasses. His face broke into a relieved beam at the sight of her.
"Malcolm!" She took a deep breath. "You're..." not fine.
Red and puffy half healed burn wounds travelled up from his shoulder to jaw, dissappearing under the thick frame of his square glasses.
She hadn't even known her little brother got injured.
"Alive!" He finished, smiling still. "We survived."
"Are you—" She started softly.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I got it checked up..." He trailed off, stared at Alabaster as he realised his presence. Malcolm's eyes clouded over, taking a steely sharp hue.
"Annabeth. That's one of Kronos's demigods."
"Luke's." She corrected absentmindedly. "I'm aware, he's coming with us."
"She's kidnapping me." Al butted in, which she elbowed him for.
"Right." Malcolm pushed his glasses up with one finger, glancing between Percy, Alabaster, back to Percy and then Annabeth again. "You do you. I'll be off."
She raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Wanted to look for survivors, if anyone is still trapped somewhere," he pushed his glasses further up his nose, narrowing his eyes at Alabaster.
"Be safe," She muttered.
"Of course," Malcolm said, fingers ghosting over his burns, and moved to walk away.
"Good luck finding anybody," Alabaster scoffed. Annabeth could swear Malcolm's steps got faster upon that, to almost stomping levels. Annabeth opened her mouth—
Alabaster pried himself away slowly, collapsing on the little door ledge of the van as soft as he can. Bit by bit he undid his armour straps, gritting and hissing through his teeth the whole time. Annabeth rushed to his side, helping him wiggle out of the scorching dark armour. The bloodied and broken metal clattered on the ground as Alabaster threw his arms around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
A few moments later, they were boarding the van; with Annabeth supporting Alabaster, and Percy coming after them. She paid no mind to the stares of some of the demigods, pulling a long strawberry crate in a position that would not move so easily. Alabaster held onto her arm as he lowered himself to its right edge.
The false tranquility broke as Percy sat down on the other edge, exposing Alabaster to the view of Sherman, who was sitting just across them.
"You!" He rose, face red, pointing at Alabaster. "You turned me into a weasel! Thrice!"
"Twice actually. The last one was a polecat." The ghost of a smirk played across Alabaster's lips.
"Excuse me?" Sherman bunched up his fists.
"Was that not to your liking? I can do boar too. You'd make an excellent one, maybe your father would actually pay you attention then." Alabaster mused.
If Sherman's face was red before it was nothing compared to now. Annabeth stepped between them, heart beating inside her chest, the laughter of the Titaness of magic ringing inside her ears while she threw her arms to keep them away from the other.
"Sherman," she exhaled, "where is Clarisse?"
"She and Chris took the chariot to carry the bodies back to camp." Sherman said, then, without missing a beat, "Is he coming with us?"
"Yes." Annabeth shut any objections down while glaring at Alabaster and whisper yelled."Play nice!"
Alabaster shrugged. "Sorry."
He didn't seem very sorry.
Annabeth huffed and sat between him and Percy, pinching Alabaster's elbow for good measure. Sherman sat down and growled but otherwise kept quiet.
Next to her, Percy fiddled with Riptide in its pen form, his lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, eyes almost closing a few times. His earlier rage seemed to wash off of him, dripping in exhaustion as he slouched forward.
Alabaster was playing with what seemed to be a pin: crossed torches with an engraved rectangular plate under it. Something to wear under his chestplate. Perhaps a good luck charm? Not that it brought him much in the end.
She glanced over the demigods already sitting and boarding the van. Sherman was giving the occasional dirty looks to Alabaster from across them, Travis was seated behind him, wrapping bandages around Katie's ankle. Will climbed in to the passenger seat, right next to Jake on the wheel; what with Argus not sticking around for the war. The son of Apollo laid down the medical bag he was carrying on his lap, examining its contents.
Connor helped Drew get inside, with Drew rubbing circles on his back and him caressing her hair. Annabeth couldn't differ who was comforting whom, for both of them had red rimmed eyes. Drew patted Connor's back, dragging her feet down the back of the vehicle.
Connor sighed, moved towards his brother. He almost walked past them, before whipping his head in their direction.
"Alabaster?" He choked out, eyes wide in shock. "Are you coming with..." He trailed off, eyes darting between the two of them.
The son of Hecate scowled, scooching closer to her. She petted his head like one would do to soothe a particularly snappy dog; a chihuahua perhaps, if Alabaster wasn't ridiculously tall. He leaned into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder.
"Whatever dude," Connor snorted softly, furiously wiping at his eyes, "just don't take over the camp, you two. I personally don't want a repeat of the puppy incident."
In spite of the nerves, or maybe because of them, a giggle slipped past her lips. She hooked a finger through her camp necklace, staring at one particular bead: the dark silhouette of three dogs on a grey base. Chosen because of the hundreds of puppies that had been sneaked past the borders and overran the camp that summer. They had still kept finding them even after a month; hidden under the bunks of campers, the woods and strangely enough, Mr. D's office.
And all because a ten year old daughter of Athena had told her son of Hecate friend, whose sacred animals included dogs, that she had been missing her father's dogs.
Technically, as Alabaster's cabin counselor, Luke should had scolded him, though Annabeth doubted he ever did.
She got snapped out of her thoughts when the motor started rumbling. Annabeth placed her hands on her lap, sneaked a peek at Alabaster's bare neck. Of course he didn't have his camp necklace anymore, she didn't expect anything different.
And yet, the thought of Alabaster throwing away everything concerning camp, including her, made her gut twist in an unexplainable mix of grief and fury.
Did he even thought twice before abandoning her? Did Luke?
Percy nudged her lightly, handing her a piece of paper and a pen; one of the classic blue ink ones, not Riptide. Her breath got knocked out of her as she saw the list of names organised by cabin. She skimmed over the names, eyes lingering a few times on the crossed out ones; like Theodore from Hephaestus, or Silena, or half of the Apollo cabin, including Michael.
Annabeth swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking the wetness away as she stared at the crossed out names under Cabin Six: Mathew and Cora. They had both came to camp after the labyrinth had been destroyed; she regretted not spending time with them as much as siblings should now. She didn't even know their favourite colour, if they had one in the first place.
She huffed, her heart sizzling a little bit as she drew a tick near her name.
And... there were a lot of blank spaces at the bottom of the paper. Alabaster was slumped to her side, his body heat warming her up. They used to do that often before she became the cabin counselor, she remembered, just curling around the other on the patio and watching the snow that had been allowed inside the barriers fall.
With a fond smile, she scribbled on the bottom: Hecate Cabin. Alabaster C. Torrington. With a tick near the name.
She had missed him.
"—nabeth! Annabeth!"
Annabeth stirred, waking up from her nap to come face to face with the big blue eyes and the freckled nose of Will Solace.
"Sorry," he leaned back, wringing his hands together as he held a med kit in front of his chest, "I'm just doing a check up on everyone. Don't want someone to die from internal bleeding on the road..." He got quieter before snapping his head up. "Or ever! Or ever."
"It's okay, Will," she yawned. She threw a look at her right and left. Alabaster was staring at the floor with a sour face, blinking sluggishly; Percy stretched, a little pool of drool on her shoulder. "Your father took a look already. I'm fine. You did a good job with the poison."
"Still." He opened and rummaged through his bag, taking out half a piece ambrosia square. He broke that one in half, too, and passed it along with a paper bag and a small bottle of water. "Throw up if you start burning up."
Annabeth nodded, nibbling on dutifully. The taste of burnt hot chocolate that had been more flavoured water than actual chocolate filled her up with nostalgia. The kind that Thalia used to steal for them when she and Luke was digging up another hideout.
Will's eyes shifted towards Percy, who thumbs-upped, then Alabaster. Alabaster raised his head, narrowing his eyes at him. Will pulled his bag closer to his chest, squirming under Alabaster's gaze. He hunched his shoulders onto himself, making himself smaller as he fixated on lightning scars marring the son of Hecate's face with puzzlement.
"Did Fletcher not taught you it's rude to stare, Solace?" Alabaster murmured. Will flinched, caught off guard like a deer in front of headlights, looking at Alabaster with the particular nervousness of an animal that realised they were the prey.
He scrambled towards the back, his cheeks turning red as he kept eyeing Alabaster with wariness. The moment he was out of sight, Alabaster's hands flew up near his face: his scar to be exact. His fingers twitched as he moved to pick on the exposed flesh, his nails digging in.
Annabeth caught his wrist, pulling it away as she shook her head. Alabaster's nails bit into her skin, until he withdrew his hand like it had been burned anyway. Annabeth sighed as he crossed his arms, clutching to his forearms with head hung down, his hair curtaining his face. She threw her head back, listening to the chatters of her campmates as she rested it against the metal interior.
"What happens now?" A whisper broke through the buzzing.
Annabeth raised her eyebrows at the direction of the voice. Drew was sitting near the back, with Will trying to get ease water into her system, her knees pulled to her abdomen. She shifted in place as she realised the gazes on her, despite that she continued.
"I mean, we survived. What now?" She cackled between sobs. "Another invasion? Do we have time to burn our dead? We have to prepare before Krono—"
"Drew!" Connor threw up his hands before lowering them slowly. "Drew, it's fine. We don’t need to. We won."
"We won," she mouthed, like someone had just told her tooth fairy was real. "We won!"
As if a dam broke, the suffocating tension disintegrated. Travis snorted, which turned into cackles. Like an infection, the laughter spread, echoing between guffaws and wails and howls. People threw their arms around eachother, high fived. Annabeth coughed once, twice, before a laugh of her own bubbled past her lips. Percy elbowed her on the side, grinning ear to ear.
"Hey, Percy!" Sherman called, "Give a speech!"
He rubbed his neck, "Guys, I am—"
Katie cut Percy off, "Oh let him rest. He did most of the heavy lifting."
Annabeth snickered as Percy went red and started sputtering about team efforts. She almost wanted to reach out and ruffle his hair, if only to see if he could get redder than he currently was. She glanced to her side, her giggle getting choked up in her throat. Alabaster was balling his fists, his mouth quaking in silent whimpers.
A bell-like laugh rang inside the vehicle. "Oh come on Kat, I think Jake did an excellent job catching those telkhines like rats in a trap." Drew hummed.
Jake chuckled from the driver’s seat. "Says the girl who doused an entire pack of hellhounds with luxury perfume."
Despite the light-heartedness, there was a pit sinking down her gut. Was someone growling?
"Can I just say thanks to the Hermes cabin?" Will wrapped gauze around his wrist. "I never had people rush me medical goods that fast."
Connor saluted, "You're welcome, doc'."
Travis grinned, hanging his arm over Katie's shoulders. "Let’s not forget about the tunel brigades! Who knew monsters were allergic to poison ivy, right, Katie-Kat?"
"Shut it, Stoll." Katie knocked away his arm, though she was beaming.
A incomprehensible grumble next to Annabeth shut them up. She turned her head towards Alabaster, raising her eyebrows in question. All eyes were trained on him, though he wasn't paying them any attention, choosing to stare at his hands. Unconsciously or not, she didn't know, but he was curling and uncurling his fingers, like he was holding an imaginary blade. The corner of his mouth was twitching.
"What did you say?" Sherman whispered, in a deceptively low tone.
"I said," Alabaster's voice trembled, which probably went all over most of the passengers's heads, what with how faint it was. He gathered himself together without a second passing, his voice getting progressively more loud and defiant. "That it was not that hard to burn down."
He raised his head, donning a smirk. Annabeth forced herself to ate up her scream of frustration as she saw the fear and outrage on the faces of her campmates, as she saw the poisonous glow in Alabaster's eyes shining through his unshed tears.
Madison hadn't been wrong about Alabaster having a habit of antagonising people, per say, even if almost drowning an eight year old had been... distasteful at best. But if this was still the Alabaster Annabeth knew, then she knew exactly why he was lashing out.
They had been mirrors a lot like that.
"You know, Al, it's cute how you're trying to cling to your pride and all but it's really not working." She mused, forcing out the smug tone.
He whipped his head, face crestfallen with incredulity and pain. She looked at the others pointedly. And how they were itching to go for their weapons. 'Please' she mouthed, hoping Alabaster caught the plea in her eyes. His lower lip wobbled.
A few people awkwardly chuckled, the heavy air hanging over everyone's heads.
Please.
"Whatever, Chase," he spat, pulling his good leg towards him and burying his head in his arms.
The tension difused, but so did the previous air, the others going back to their own things. She hid her face inside her palms, the hurt in Alabaster's expression piercing her heart like a knife.
She felt the gentle weight of a hand resting on her shoulder. She gave a shaky smile once she realised it was Percy.
"Hey," he pursed his lips, "are you... alright?"
"Yeah, yeah I am. It's just," she pondered for half a minute before inhaling, "a lot of emotions right now. I haven’t seen Alabaster in years."
"Alabaster," Percy repeated the name to himself, as if tasting the name on his tongue, "who, umm, sorry, but who is he exactly?"
She hadn't gave Percy an explanation, had she? No, she had been too preoccupied for that. Besides, she had never been good at talking out her feelings.
"We used to be friends. I hope we're still friends," she murmured, the longer she spoke the more the words stringed up, "you can guess what two precocious children, drowning in their armour and with weapons almost their height got up to. And we were the youngests, too, I'm sure the counselors were exhausted. Gods know Luke—"
She couldn't breath. She couldn't do anything but stare at Luke's dagger. His blood covered it still, dried patches stood out against the bronze glow. Her big brother was dead. The one who hadn't hesitated even a bit as he left her under the crushing weight of the sky, the one who put himself between her and any passing harpies as they spent the night at the base of Thalia's tree. The one who killed himself for her.
The lack of his presence was weighing on her already.
A bundle built up in the midst of her throat, though she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, she squeezed Percy’s hand and got one back in return.
"It's going to be okay," he leaned towards her ear, "we saved the world."
"You saved the world."
Percy bunched up his nose and shook his head. "I couldn't do it without you."
Normally, a compliment like that would sent her preening. Saving the world? Yes, please. However, if she had really helped, she would've caught onto things sooner. She would have been able to make Luke reconsider before he even stole Zeus’s lightning bolt and Hades's helm, she would have been able to keep her family together. She would have stopped several prophecies, several deaths. Perhaps she could have even made arrangements for the children of the minor gods, leaving Alabaster no reason to run off.
The worst part was, she knew that was not how either prophecies or the Fates worked. For her, the outcome of the war had been nothing short of a pyrrhic victory.
She couldn't bring herself to refuse Percy’s statements, though.
"Happy birthday, Percy." She leaned against him.
"What?" He opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
"Your birthday, August 18th."
The prophecy had came true just on schedule.
"Oh! You're right..." Percy trailed off.
She nudged him, "Got something to say, birthday boy?"
"...when I was at the River Styx, turning invulnerable," he began, "Nico said I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal."
Heat and blood crept up to her cheeks. "Yeah?"
"Then up on Olympus, when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking—"
"Oh, so you wanted to." Just the thought of Percy leaving her behind like everyone else was enough to sent her heart on a loop-de-loop.
"Well, maybe a little. But I didn't, because I thought— I didn't want to stay the same for eternity, because things could always get better. And I was thinking..."
Oh.
"Anyone in particular?" A smile grew across her face. Her heart pounded in giddiness, almost purring inside her ribcage like a cat.
"Are you laughing at me?" Percy frowned.
"May I?" She beamed larger, leaning forward.
Percy’s breath gusted over her lips, his own parting slightly. "Go ahead."
A thousand fireworks bursted in her mind as their lips meet. She could've stayed there forever, until they had merged into one and the same, until their souls made their way to Charon's ferry hand in hand.
The moment promptly got shattered by the sound of loud whooping.
"Finally, it's about time!"
"Clarisse will be so mad at missing this." Connor cackled.
"Come on!" Percy whined. Annabeth cackled as well and she couldn't stop. The festive mood had returned and it didn't seem like it was dissappearing any time soon. She wrapped her arms around Percy, pulling him close, the teasings around them buzzing like white noise.
She threw a quick look to her right. Alabaster was staring at them with half lidded eyes. As he realised her gaze on her, he smiled, rolling his eyes affectionately. She sighed, a smile of her own playing on her lips, hand intertwined with Percy’s.
Everything would be fine, she would make sure of that.
Camp Half-Blood Hill was as peaceful as ever, even with the campers who had just returned from defending a city on siege for days. The sun's rays fell on the uncut grass swaying with the wind, lighting them up in a golden glow.
"Slow steps," Annabeth chimed. Alabaster clung to her like a lifeline, lips pressed taut. They stumbled up the hill with Percy walking besides her when Nico ran towards them, almost tripping over his own feet.
"Nico! Where are my parents?" Percy rushed to the kid's side, helping him steady himself.
"Went home and expecting an Iris message," Nico took a deep breath, "it's Rachel. Percy, she... I told her she would die if she tries this but—"
"Where is she?"
"The Big House."
Percy’s chin dropped, eyes going wide. "Oh! Oh no no no—"
"Percy what's going on?" She questioned.
"No time," Percy fumed, "she doesn't know what she's doing." He dashed, kicking up pebbles and strands of grass as he sprinted towards the main building of camp.
Annabeth shared a confused look with Alabaster, before carrying him past Nico and after Percy.
Up at the Big House, something was undeniably wrong. Green light, not unlike the colour of Alabaster's eyes, was shooting out all the windows, just like she had seen May Castellan do after them when she, Luke and Thalia had ran off from the house. The Mist swirled around the yard.
Chiron laid on a horse-size stretcher by the volleyball pit, a bunch of satyrs standing around him. Blackjack was cantering nervously in the grass and neighed upon seeing Percy.
Rachel Elizabeth Dare stood at the bottom of the porch steps. Her arms were raised like she was waiting for someone inside the house to throw her a ball. Her eyes were half-closed, Annabeth could swear she was only able to see the sclera.
"What's she doing?" Annabeth demanded. "How did she get past the barriers?"
"She flew," one of the satyrs said, looking accusingly at Blackjack. "Right past the dragon, right through the magic boundaries."
"Rachel!" Percy called, but the satyrs stopped him when he tried to go any closer.
"Percy, don't," Chiron warned. He winced as he tried to move. His left arm was in a sling, his two back legs were in splints, and his head was wrapped in bandages. Even with how accident-prone the camp could get, Annabeth had never seen him this injured. "You can't interrupt."
"I thought you explained things to her!"
"I did. And I invited her here."
Percy stared at him in disbelief. "You said you'd never let anyone try again! You said—"
"I know what I said, Percy. But I was wrong. Rachel had a vision about the curse of Hades. She believes it may be lifted now. She convinced me she deserves a chance."
"And if the curse isn't lifted? If Hades hasn't gotten to that yet, she'll go crazy!"
The Mist danced around Rachel, wrapping around her curls like ribbons. She shivered like she was going into shock. Like May Castellan had done. Annabeth hugged Alabaster close to her as dread pooled inside her stomach.
"Hey!" Percy shouted. "Stop!"
He ran toward her, ignoring the satyrs, only to bounce back and land on the grass after hitting an invisible barrier. Rachel opened her eyes and turned. She looked like she was sleepwalking— like she could see them, but only in Morpheus's realm.
"It's all right." Her voice sounded far away, echoing within itself, "This is why I've come."
"You'll be destroyed!" Percy pleaded.
She shook her head. "This is where I belong, Percy. I finally understand why."
The house rumbled. The door flew open and green light poured out, filling the yard with the warm musty smell of snakes. Mist curled into a hundred smoky serpents, slithering up the porch columns, slithering around the house. Then the Oracle appeared in the doorway. The withered mummy shuffled forward in her rainbow dress. She looked even worse than usual, with her hair falling out in clumps. Her leathery skin was cracking like the seat of a worn-out bus. Her glassy eyes stared blankly into space, but her gaze was still drawn straight towards Rachel somehow.
Rachel held out her arms. She didn't look scared. "You've waited too long. But I'm here now."
The sun blazed more brightly. A man appeared above the porch, floating in the air—a blond dude in a white toga, with sunglasses and a co*cky smile. Annabeth clung to the boy in her arms harder.
"Apollo," Percy said.
Apollo winked at him but held up his finger to his lips. "Rachel Elizabeth Dare, you have the gift of prophecy. But it is also a curse. Are you sure you want this?"
Rachel nodded. "It's my destiny."
"Do you accept the risks?"
"I do."
"Then proceed," the god said.
Rachel closed her eyes. "I accept this role. I pledge myself to Apollo, God of Oracles. I open my eyes to the future and embrace the past. I accept the spirit of Delphi, Voice of the Gods, Speaker of Riddles, Seer of Fate."
The words flowed out of her like she had known them since birth as the Mist thickened. A green column of smoke, like a huge python, uncoiled from the mummy's mouth and slithered down the stairs, curling affectionately around Rachel's feet. The Oracle's mummy crumbled, falling away until it was nothing but a pile of dust in an old tie-dyed dress. Mist enveloped Rachel in a column, obscuring her from their vision.
Then the smoke cleared. Rachel collapsed and curled into the fetal position. Nico and Percy rushed forward but Apollo said, "Stop! This is the most delicate part."
"What's going on?" Percy demanded. "What do you mean?"
Apollo studied Rachel with concern. "Either the spirit takes hold, or it doesn't."
"And if it doesn't?" Annabeth asked.
"Five syllables," Apollo said, counting them on his fingers. "That would be real bad."
Despite Apollo's warning, Percy ran forward and knelt over Rachel. The smell of the attic was gone. The Mist sank into the ground and the green light faded. But Rachel was still sickly pale and barely breathing.
Then her eyes fluttered open. "Percy."
"Are you okay?" Percy put a hand on her back in support as she tried to sit up.
"Ow." She pressed her hands to her temples.
"Rachel," Nico said, "your life aura almost faded completely. I could see you dying."
"I'm all right," she murmured. "Please, help me up. The visions—they're a little disorienting."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Percy asked.
Apollo drifted down from the porch. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the new Oracle of Delphi."
What? Annabeth was starting to think that everything she had witnessed since the corpses of the Titan army to the light and smoke show just now was part of a weird, surrealist dream her imagination had cooked up. "You're kidding."
Rachel managed a weak smile. "It's a little surprising to me too, but this is my fate. I saw it when I was in New York. I know why I was born with true sight. I was meant to become the Oracle."
Percy blinked. "You mean you can tell the future now?"
"Not all the time," she said. "But there are visions, images, words in my mind. When someone asks me a question, I . . . Oh no—"
"It's starting," Apollo announced.
Rachel doubled over like someone had punched her. Then she stood up straight and her eyes glowed serpent green. Annabeth shuddered once she started to speak, her voice tripling just like Alabaster's mother's.
"Seven half-bloods shall answer the call.
To storm or fire, the world must fall.
An oath to keep with a final breath,
And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."
At the last word, Rachel collapsed. Nico and Percy caught her and helped her to the porch.
"I'm all right," she said, her voice returning to normal.
"What was that?" Percy asked.
"What was what?" Rachel shook her head, puzzled.
"I believe," Apollo mused, "that we just heard the next Great Prophecy."
"What does it mean?" Percy crossed his arms.
Rachel frowned. "I don't even remember what I said."
"No," Apollo hummed. "The spirit will only speak through you occasionally. The rest of the time, our Rachel will be much as she's always been. There's no point in grilling her, even if she has just issued the next big prediction for the future of the world."
"What?" Percy stammered. "But—"
"Percy," Apollo cut him off, more cheery than he should have been about a world ending prophecy, "I wouldn't worry too much. The last Great Prophecy about you took almost seventy years to complete. This one may not even happen in your lifetime. Oh, she's going to make a wonderful Oracle!"
"Olympus will bury its head like ostriches either way." Alabaster scoffed.
Apollo's grin faded, his face paling several shades as he turned to the source of the voice. For a brief second, his image flickered to a more dishevelled and aged look, his paper white toga teared and soot stained. His hand flew to his back in a hurry, only to hover over the empty air where a quiver wasn't. He clasped his hands together, smiling a tad too wide as he regained control of his appearance.
"Well! Fancy seeing you here, General."
The... what?
"What general?" Percy frowned, as if he just remembered something, "Why were all of the amnestied demigods dead, Apollo?"
Annabeth nodded, raising her chin to look Apollo in the eyes. She glared, digging her nails into Alabaster, baring her teeth. She was not going to forget the ten year old with a golden arrow pierced through her heart.
They were not going to take Alabaster away from her too.
Chiron twisted his face, looking everywhere but them, instead staring at a panicked Nico pulling Rachel further inside the Big House.
"See that would be a great question to answer. However," Apollo clapped, "our dear Rachel needs her rest."
"Coward!" Alabaster screamed after Apollo as the god all but fled while he was ushering Rachel into the Big House. An eery quiet took over the usual boisterous camp.
Everything hurt.
His face was on fire, his body burning from the inside. Gunk coated the insides of his sore throat. He couldn’t feel anything but excruciating throbbing on his left leg, his ankle was probably swollen. Even the slightest breeze was enough to sear the places his flesh was exposed anew.
Alabaster wanted to go home.
He had been lost in a daze as Annabeth dragged him inside and made him sit on a couch, the molten core cooking him from inside made it almost impossible to think. Little electric shocks were either running down his bloodstream, or it felt like it.
The couch dipped next to him. Alabaster rubbed his eyes as Annabeth made circles on his back.
How had things had gone that wrong?
Alabaster had slaved away for months, ran himself ragged just to ensure everything would go without a hitch, that their takeover would be swift. All those nights painstakingly inscribing rune after rune to everything that was going to be used and that he could get his hands on. He had even boarded the younger kids to the smaller boats that were going towards Manhattan, so they wouldn't be caught up in the potential explosion. See how that turned out..: radio silence. Poseidon must have taken them out after receiving the gigantic sacrifice Princess Andromeda was.
He was supposed to be in Manhattan right now; congratulating his not-supposed-to-be-dead-siblings and basking in their victory. Certainly not weeping like a little kid as the sole survivor; on enemy territory: Camp Nightmares no less, the place where he had been constantly belittled, beaten down and neglected for years.
All he had done had been herding the kids under his care to slaughter.
A sob wrecked itself out of his shuddering body.
"Shhh, it's okay, it's alright. I got you." Annabeth cooed, pulling him into a hug once more, one that he couldn’t help but melt into. "You're safe here."
No, he was not, Alabaster swallowed down a wet gasp before it could push its way out past his lips, staring at the door Apollo has disappeared with the new oracle and Perseus Jackson. He was probably going to slobber all over the sun god's boots, the ass.
How Annabeth could be oh so fond of him, especially after he killed Luke, he didn’t get.
But then again, Alabaster stared at his reflection at the mirror hanging on the opposite wall, Annabeth did have a habit of caring for people who only brought destruction no matter what, didn’t she? It was just the kind of person she was, the Annabeth he knew anyway.
The Olympians deserved neither her worship or care. Call him prideful, call them both prideful but he was sure that if they just had her on their side; not only would they have won, and also done a thousands times better job than the divine mafia. Not that Alabaster would admit that to Annabeth’s face any time soon.
He pulled away, wiping at his eyes with a tissue that she shoved into his hands. Annabeth gave him a shaky smile, a thumb ghosting over his knuckles. "Are you alright?"
No.
"Yeah," he whispered.
"I don't know why I expected you to be honest." She frowned, brushing his hair away from his face, "I'll be here soon, okay? I just need to check on Percy... and Rachel, I suppose."
He nodded, staring at a stray coil that escaped and fell on Annabeth’s forehead. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze, she'd see he didn’t want her to leave otherwise. He didn't deserve any comfort after getting all his loved ones killed.
"Be right back." She thumbs-upped, awkwardly shuffling out of the room.
Alabaster forced himself to smile, waving after her.
"Alabaster." A mournful tone caused his smile to freeze on his face.
Chiron sat at the front of the main door, though Alabaster could see that beneath the layers of Mist embracing his wheelchair that he was still laying on a stretcher.
Alabaster whirled around, deeming it fit to respond by giving the old horse a mouthful of scowling.
"I always knew you would be a force to be reckoned with."
What was that supposed to mean?
Alabaster hated Chiron, hated his grief stricken eyes and voice full of sorrow and how he looked at him like he was a dead man. How he would never be enough no matter what because he dared to be his mother's child. Hated his vagueness; the way he reminded Alabaster of his father with how he could figure out Chiron was always disappointed with him but never why.
Did Chiron wrote him off as a valiant enemy? Dangerous and destructive? Volatile? Not living up to his full potential?
The so called teacher didn't get to lecture him about anything when all he taught was how to adhere to the ever shifting and hypocritical rules of Olympus, when he had somehow managed to top Alabaster's own father in the neglect department.
It had been Luke who greeted Alabaster when he'd stumbled inside the borders covered in his mentor's blood, Luke who had actually tried to make the camp the all welcoming place it claimed to be.
"I know that you must currently be feeling lost and hurt but—"
"I am not lost," Alabaster snapped, "I knew what I was fighting for."
"Of course you did." Chiron grimly smiled, face twisted in pity. Dear Titans, could he get any more condescending?
He opened his mouth to protest, only for it to fizzle out as rhythmic finger tapping drew both their attention. Apollo was leaning on a dresser, fiddling with shades he got from who knows where. If all of Alabaster's cards hadn't crumbled to ash he would have chucked his sword across the room and spilled the god's ichor on Chiron’s carpets.
"Ehem," Apollo cleared his throat, "Chiron if you could..."
"Lord Apoll—" Whatever protest the centaur had cut off as the doors slammed shut with a wave of Apollo's hand.
Alabaster glared at him, the god shifting his weight to drape over the polished wood surface of the dresser.
The heavy silence hung over the room like a fog. Alabaster decided to break it. "Am I entertaining to stare at?" He spit out.
"Very funny," Apollo drawled and finger gunned towards Alabaster's face, "that won't heal completely by the way, I would appreciate if you didn't bother my children with it."
Alabaster let out an angry cackle at the absurdity, "Your children? The ones you killed?"
The Olympian didn't get to even pretend to care when all of his children in the army had been terrified of his wrath. And he called himself Protector of the Youth?
Apollo raised his hands, grinning apologetically, "Now come on, don't act like you didn't force our hands."
The god did not just—
"You're the one who was trying to wage war, you know? If you stayed your hand you would probably... be with your beloved siblings right now." Apollo shrugged like it was no-biggie.
Alabaster snickered, tears streaming down his cheeks. Oh his nerves were definitely frayed, he thought as he pulled a decorative pillow with sequins to his chest, crushing the fabric in his grip.
"Harper was ten!"
"And pray tell me, why was a ten year old allowed on battlefield?" Apollo raised an eyebrow.
Alabaster howled, flung the pillow at Apollo. The god poofed away in a shimmer of gold, causing the pillow to thump at the wall and fall over the dresser, knocking over the knick-knacks Chiron had on it.
Alabaster broke down in sobs, burying his head on the arm of the couch.
Why had he been the one to be left alive?
