Betrayed But Never Forgotten

That hit like lightning

Percys pov

The morning sun filtered through the saltwater fountain in my cabin, casting rippling patterns across the walls as I pulled on my orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. Yesterday's events kept replaying in my mind – the new camper's arrival, the way the entire camp seemed to orbit around him like planets around the sun. But what bothered me most was Jason's behavior. He'd barely left Nick's side, practically forgetting Thalia existed. Something about it felt wrong, like watching storm clouds gather on a clear day.

"Hi, Seaweed Brain." Annabeth's voice pulled me from my thoughts as she linked her arm through mine. She was wearing ripped denim shorts and her camp shirt, her honey-blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail that caught the morning light. A few loose strands framed her face, and her storm-gray eyes held that familiar mix of affection and concern.

"Hi, Wise Girl," I managed, trying to shake off my unease. "How'd you sleep?"

"Terrible." She wrinkled her nose. "The entire Athena cabin was up all night debating Nick's fighting techniques. Malcolm thinks his style predates Classical Greece, but that's impossible unless..." She trailed off as we headed toward the arena for our morning sparring session.

"Just try not to worry about it," I said, though worry was becoming my constant companion these days.

"Guys!" Piper's voice cut through the morning air. She sprinted toward us, her choppy brown hair flying behind her, face flushed with exertion. "You need to hear this." She bent over, catching her breath, her kaleidoscope eyes dark with concern. "Jason – he's been manipulating the newer campers, the ones who came after the war with Gaia. I overheard him last night outside his cabin. He's turning them against you, Percy. Making them blame you for everything that's gone wrong."

"Why?" The word felt hollow in my mouth, though part of me already knew the answer.

"Because he's jealous," Annabeth spat, her hand instinctively moving to her drakon-bone sword. 

"I'm going to have a word with him – with my fist."

I caught her arm, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Let's give him another chance," I said, though the words tasted like ash.

"Always loyal," Annabeth muttered, but there was fondness mixed with her frustration. Piper just rolled her eyes, clearly thinking I was being too forgiving.

The arena was already bustling with activity when we arrived. The sound of clashing weapons filled the air, mixed with grunts of effort and the occasional victory cry. Annabeth and I found the last open space near the far wall, where the morning shadows still lingered.

"Someone's watching," Annabeth whispered as we took our starting positions. I turned to catch Jason quickly averting his gaze, his Imperial gold sword glinting as he resumed sparring with a younger camper.

"Whatever," I mumbled, trying to focus on Annabeth's stance instead of the prickling sensation between my shoulder blades.

Our eyes locked in that familiar pre-fight stare-down. Annabeth struck first – a rookie mistake she was too smart to make accidentally. She was testing me, watching how I'd react. I sidestepped and swept her legs out from under her. She hit the ground with a grunt, and I pinned her, pressing Riptide gently against her neck.

"Yield," I said, surprised by how easily I'd won. Then I felt it – a tap on my shoulder that sent ice through my veins.

I spun around, Riptide still uncapped, and found myself face-to-face with Jason. He didn't even flinch at the celestial bronze blade at his throat. His electric blue eyes were cold, calculating – so different from the friend I thought I knew.

"What do you want?" I asked, capping Riptide while simultaneously holding Annabeth back. I could feel her trembling with rage beside me.

Jason's smirk was like a knife twisting in my gut. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "I just wondered if you ever think about them – all the people who died because of you."

I stumbled backward as if he'd physically struck me. "What are you talking about?"

His smile widened, cruel and satisfied. "I'm talking about everyone who made the mistake of getting close to Percy Jackson. Zoë Nightshade. Bianca di Angelo. Silena Beauregard." Each name was a dagger to my heart.

I tried to push past him, but he blocked my path, his voice following me like a curse. "Charles Beckendorf. Luke Castellan. Ethan Nakamura. Leo Valdez."

The names echoed in my head, each one bringing flashes of memories: Zoë fading into stars, Bianca's last smile, Silena's final act of courage, Beckendorf's sacrifice, Luke's redemption, Ethan's fall, Leo's explosion.

Tears blurred my vision as I shoved past Jason, ignoring Annabeth's calls behind me. I ran to my cabin, slamming the door and sliding down against it. The fountain's gentle burbling seemed to mock my breakdown as I curled up on my bed, letting the grief I'd bottled up for so long finally break free.

It was my fault. All of it. Every death, every sacrifice, every hero lost – their blood was on my hands. The thought followed me as exhaustion took over and I slipped into Morpheus's realm, where I knew their faces would be waiting in my dreams.

The last thing I heard before sleep claimed me was a distant rumble of thunder – or maybe it was laughter, carrying across the strawberry fields like a promise of storms to come.