Reaching For The Stars

Chapter 10

Artume

She kept her distance from the busy sections of the camp, disinterested in the seemingly pointless lessons she was expected to attend. It was a childish attempt to reject her current reality. She was well aware of it, but that did little to diminish the humiliation and anguish. It stung in a way she had never experienced before.

Artume pulled her legs close to her chest, her arms winding around them as she rested her chin on her knees. Finding more comfort in solitude, she could hear the gentle waves crashing on the beach, the cool, salty air filling her lungs. While it brought a sense of calm, it also provided clarity to her mind, causing her eyes to well up with tears the longer she stayed.

It wasn't until most of the day had passed that someone came to keep her company. Annabeth settled beside her, and together they gazed out at the ocean. Artume's attention on the glistening water illuminated by the multicolored sky

"You should eat something, Artume."

"The food tastes like dirt."

Annabeth sighed, placing a small package wrapped in cloth next to Artume, still warm to the touch. It was likely some kind of meal prepared by Annabeth herself. The blonde had undoubtedly noticed Artume's lack of eating, considering she hadn't moved from this spot since breakfast.

"Your body needs to live on something. This isn't healthy for you."

"I haven't had a substantial meal since 1709, Annabeth. This won't be—" Artume began, intending to argue against her mortal needs, to assert that she was still akin to what she once was: a goddess. Yet her stomach growled, offering a persuasive argument. She was hungry.

"It's made by me, so do it for me?" Annabeth asked, a faint hopeful smile on her face. Artume sighed, accepting the package and unfolding it to reveal a warm pulled pork sandwich—not bad, but far from what she was accustomed to eating.

"Thank you, Annabeth," Artume murmured, taking a bite. Living like a mortal was a frustrating experience. Tiring from merely being awake for an extended period, hunger creeping in if meals were missed.

"You're welcome, um, so... How are you feeling?"

"There are no words to describe it, Annabeth. How do you describe the pain of realizing that the woman who died in your arms is no longer your mother? Tell me, what word can convey the anguish of losing the last tie to your home?"

"I... I don't know," Annabeth replied softly, her gaze cast downward.

"I can't see them anymore, Annabeth. The stars don't show their laughter anymore. How they look like. What we did in the past. I... can't see..."

Artume was gently pulled into Annabeth's embrace as tears streamed down her face. Her body shook at the deep personal loss, leaving her feeling empty, consumed by the pain of what will be gone forever. Her shoulders heaved, breath ragged, while Annabeth attempted to offer solace. Artume felt the warmth of Annabeth's soothing strokes along her back, gently swaying her from left to right. Despite her mind ridiculed her for seeking comfort from a mortal, her heart lighter as her arms wound around Annabeth.

"It's not the end, Artume," Annabeth's comforting voice reassured her, a warm smile on her face as Artume gazed up with puffy, red eyes, confusion etched on her face. "You're starting over. Can't you see? A new life."

"A new life?" Artume whispered, her voice feeble as she allowed the thought to sink in.

"Mhm," Annabeth hummed, using her sleeve to wipe away the last of Artume's tears. "I can't know how a Goddess feels about it. It might seem like the end, but this is your fresh start. Personally, I've written everything dear to me in my diary. Nothing special is ever lost just like your memories."