The Winds Of Heaven (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

43. The Last That Could Be Done

A/N: I wanted to write this author's note at the end of the chapter, but it felt inappropriate. I won't spoil you, but I feel like the end deserves that I don't put anything after. As I said in the last note, this chapter has two big scenes that I've been waiting for over a year to include in the fic, so you can guess how excited I was to write and upload it. I hope you'll love it as much as I do. Please, don't hesitate to tell me—I'm kind of anxious to hear your thoughts.
Happy reading!

Percy was so stunned that Frank had to yell his name a dozen times before he realized the rest of the ghostly army was closing in on him.

He rolled over, catching the fallen eagle staff as a shade slammed its sword into the ice where his legs had been. Meanwhile the glacier groaned, about to break.

Y/N! he thought. He desperately wanted to go and look over the edge, to dive into the ocean and help his friend. Not all his memories had come back yet, but he had a nagging impression that Y/N didn't do well in water. Gods, I can't lose him. I've just found him! Please, Y/N, come back.

He looked defiantly at the fifty shades that remained. Now that Frank had freed Thanatos, they didn't attack so recklessly. Gaea may have brought them back once, but they knew they wouldn't get the same chance twice. Now, either they killed him or they got a one-way ticket to the Fields of Punishment.

Behind them, the man called Tom stood almost casually, his hand sitting on the pommel of his sword, an air of confidence on his face. "Hold your position," he told the Roman spirits. "Advance slowly and push him toward the edge. Do not surround him; he would blast you with a cyclone. Wait for him to tire himself out."

Still, the shades seemed hesitant, awed by the golden eagle standard. It exuded a smell of copper that Percy could virtually taste, and the air around it crackled with energy, making his hair stand on his head and arms.

"What are you waiting for?" Tom spat angrily. "Get him!"

That scared them more than the eagle. At the same time, all the Roman spirits marched forward, closing in on Percy. He stared at them, thinking hard of a way to get out of this mess. The cliff's edge was now just one step behind him.

An idea came to him. He gripped the eagle standard and Riptide tighter in his hands. The electricity in the air hummed. A tugging sensation hooked his guts. He thought about Y/N, three hundred feet underneath him. Please, don't get hurt.

Then, raising the standard high, he slammed Riptide into the ice at his feet. The entire glacier shuddered. Ghosts fell to their knees. Behind him, a wave surged up from the bay—a wall of gray water even taller than the glacier. Water shot from the chasms and crevices in the ice. As the wave hit, the back half of the camp crumbled. The entire edge of the glacier peeled away, cascading into the void—carrying buildings and ghosts over the edge.

Percy jumped to avoid falling with them. Gods, he hoped Y/N was safe! Colors flashed, showing so many quests, so many battles. Yes, Y/N would survive this. They had survived worse together, and they would survive this time too.

Glancing over, Percy saw Hazel, Frank, and the fallen giant, and understood what was happening. He yelled, "Go!" hoping his friends wouldn't worry so much for him that they'd stay. They had to kill that giant, now or never.

Percy managed to reach the gates of the Roman camp, where the ice stopped breaking, marking the new edge for the cliff—at least for now. He stepped away from it, just to be sure.

As he caught his breath, leaning on the staff with the golden eagle, gazing down at the wreckage he'd caused—several hundred acres of newly open water dotted with icebergs and flotsam from the ruined camp—Percy heard movement.