Annabeth sat at the foot of her mother's throne, tears streaking her cheeks, her sorrow palpable. Percy watched her, his heart aching to offer comfort, yet unsure how to bridge the gap between them in this moment of vulnerability.
Oskar and Zoe had tactfully given them some privacy, retreating to the balcony, but Percy couldn't shake the feeling that something significant was transpiring between them. Even in their heated discussions, there was an undeniable intensity in how they looked at each other, a silent dialogue unfolding beneath the surface.
Percy couldn't quite decipher it.
"Annabeth," he began softly, "it's not your fault. I've never seen Hermes act like that before. I suppose... I don't know... maybe he feels guilty about Luke. Perhaps he's searching for someone to blame. I can't fathom why he directed his anger at you. You didn't deserve that."
Annabeth dabbed at her eyes, her gaze fixed upon the hearth as if it held the weight of her sorrow.
Percy shifted uncomfortably. "Um, you didn't, did you?"
She remained silent, her Celestial bronze knife secured to her arm—a weapon Percy had often seen but hadn't realized was a gift from Luke until now. He had questioned her choice of blade over a sword numerous times without receiving a satisfactory answer until this moment.
"Percy," she finally said, her voice shaky. "What did you mean about Luke's mother? Did you meet her?"
Reluctantly, Percy nodded. "Nico and I visited her. She was... peculiar." He recounted the strange encounter with May Castellan and the unsettling moment when her eyes had begun to glow as she spoke of her son's destiny.
Annabeth furrowed her brow. "That doesn't make sense. But why were you there—" Her eyes widened in realization. "Hermes mentioned you bear the curse of Achilles. Hestia confirmed it, too. Did you... did you bathe in the River Styx?"
Percy hesitated before admitting, "Um... perhaps a little." He recounted the perilous tale of his encounter with Hades and Nico, omitting the vision of Annabeth pulling him from the Styx. This memory still left him feeling embarrassed and perplexed.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Annabeth exclaimed, "Do you realize how dangerous that was?"
"I didn't have a choice," Percy defended. "It was the only way I could confront Luke."
"You mean... di immortales, of course! That's why Luke survived. He must have immersed himself in the Styx as well... Oh no, Luke. What were you thinking?"
"So now you're concerned about Luke again," Percy muttered.
Confusion clouded Annabeth's features. "What?"
"Never mind," Percy replied, pushing aside his curiosity about Hermes' cryptic words regarding Annabeth's supposed opportunity to save Luke. He wasn't in the mood to delve into her past with Luke.
"The important thing is he didn't perish in the Styx," Percy insisted. "Neither did I. Now I have to confront him. We have to defend Olympus."
Annabeth continued scrutinising Percy's face as if searching for changes since his swim in the Styx. "I suppose you're right. My mother mentioned—"
"Plan twenty-three," Percy interjected.
Annabeth retrieved Daedalus's laptop from her pack, its blue Delta symbol glowing as she powered it up. She began to sift through files, her expression growing more serious by the second.
"Here it is," she said at last. "Gods, we have a lot of work to do."
"One of Daedalus's inventions?" Percy asked.
"A multitude of inventions... many of them dangerous," Annabeth confirmed. "If my mother wants me to implement this plan, she must believe the situation is dire." She glanced at Percy. "And what about her message to you: 'Remember the rivers'? What does that mean?"
Percy shook his head, feeling as clueless as ever about the gods' enigmatic messages. "As usual, I haven't the faintest idea what the gods are trying to tell me. Which rivers am I supposed to remember? The Styx? The Mississippi?"