If you would've told Percy Jackson a year ago he wasn't the only prophecized demigod with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he would've been elated.
Yet now, it was his only and dearest wish.
When Percy Jackson, (in)famous Son of Poseidon...
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˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
THEY LANDED ATCRISSY FIELD after nightfall.
As soon as Dr. Chase stepped out of his Sopwith Camel, Annabeth ran to him and gave him a huge hug. "Dad! You flew... you shot... oh my gods! That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"
Her father blushed. "Well, not bad for a middle-aged mortal, I suppose. And the, uh, dead soldier helped a lot."
The zombie soldier saluted him with a nasty grin, flashing his rotten teeth and flesh. "I'm going to join my comrades in the fight! Salut!" He ran back to where they had come from.
Annabeth, Percy, and Thalia engaged into conversation with Dr. Chase as Menodora carefully carried Zoë out of the chariot.
Annabeth and Percy ran over to help, but there wasn't much they could do. There was no ambrosia or nectar. No regular medicine would help. Zoë was shivering, and the faint glow that usually hung around her was fading.
"Can't you heal her with magic?" Percy asked Artemis. "I mean... you're a goddess."
Artemis looked troubled. "Life is a fragile thing, Percy. If the Fates will the string to be cut, there is little I can do. But I can try."
She tried to set her hand on Zoë's side, but Zoë gripped her wrist. She looked into the goddess' eyes, and some kind of understanding passed between them.
"Have I... served thee well?" Zoë whispered.
"With great honor," Artemis said softly. "The finest of my attendants."
Zoë's face relaxed. "Rest. At last."
"No, You're not going," Menodora sobbed, her voice cracking from the sadness that filled her. It was more of a realisation than a statement. Zoë's life force was so weak, it surprised Menodora Zoë was still talking.
"I can try to heal the poison, my brave one."
But in that moment, Menodora knew it wasn't just the poison that was killing her. It was her father's final blow. Zoë had known all along that the Oracle's prophecy was about her: she would die by a parent's hand. And yet she'd taken the quest anyway. She had chosen to save Menodora, and Atlas' fury had broken her inside.
She saw Thalia, and took her hand.
"I am sorry we argued," Zoë said. "We could have been sisters."
