The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

32. Steamed Or Skewered?

Y/N woke up in a rowboat with a makeshift sail stitched of gray uniform fabric. Annabeth sat next to him, tacking into the wind. How did we get here? 

He tried to sit up and immediately felt woozy.

"Rest," Annabeth said. "You're going to need it."

"The others . . . ?"

She shook her head.

"Tyson? Percy?"

Silence.

"Ethan?" His voice broke.

Annabeth glanced at him, her eyes full of pity. "I'm really sorry, Y/N. Tyson never got out of the boiler room. He may have survived," she said halfheartedly. "I mean, fire can't kill him. Percy and Ethan. . . ."

She stopped, staring at the rowboat's bottom, as if she were looking for words.

"Last time I saw them, they were sixty feet over the water," she finally said.

There was no reason to feel hopeful. Y/N had seen the explosion rip through solid iron. If Tyson had been down in the boiler room, there was no way he could've lived. And as for Percy and Ethan. . . .

Y/N wiped all the thoughts that came to his mind, shaking his head. No hope.

Waves lapped at the boat. Annabeth showed him some things she had salvaged from the wreckage: Hermes's thermos—now empty—a couple of sailors' shirts. She had fished one of their knapsacks. It was Percy's one, bitten in half by Scylla's teeth. Most of his stuff had floated away, but there still was Hermes's bottle of multivitamins. She also had managed to get a bottle of Dr Pepper and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia.

"I used the end of another for you," she told him.

Indeed, he felt way better. His shoulder wasn't hurting anymore, and he didn't feel tired at all.

They sailed for hours. Now that they were in the Sea of Monsters, the water glittered a more brilliant green, like Hydra acid. The wind smelled fresh and salty, but it carried a strange metallic scent, too—as if a thunderstorm were coming. Or something even more dangerous.

No matter which way they turned, the sun seemed to shine straight into Y/N's eyes. They took turns sipping from the Dr Pepper, shading themselves with the sail as best as they could.

"We're in big trouble," Annabeth said.

"We're up shit creek, you mean," Y/N said.

Annabeth stayed silent for a few minutes. "Yeah, up shit creek."

Y/N glanced at Hermes's multivitamins. He thought about Luke. That didn't make him feel any better.

He asked, "Annabeth, what's Chiron's prophecy?"

She pursed her lips. "Y/N, I shouldn't—"

"I know Chiron promised the gods he wouldn't tell. But you didn't promise, did you?"

"Knowledge isn't always good for you."

"Your mom is the wisdom goddess!"

"I know! But every time heroes learn the future, they try to change it, and it never works."

"The gods are worried about something Percy'll do when he gets older. Something when he turns sixteen. But I'm not Percy, so I won't change much."

Annabeth twisted her Yankees cap in her hands. "Y/N, I don't know the full prophecy, but it warns about a half-blood child of the eldest gods—the next one who lives to the age of sixteen. That's the real reason Zeus, Poseidon and Hades swore a pact after World War II not to have any more kids. The next child of the Big Three who reaches sixteen will be a dangerous weapon. But that doesn't concern you—"