νεκρός || Annabeth Chase x Fem!OC

Vol. 4-25: My dad hugs me for the first time in sixteen years

PERCY

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The Three Fates themselves took Luke's body.

I hadn't seen the old ladies in years, since I'd witnessed them snip a life thread at a roadside fruit stand when I was twelve. They'd scared me then, and they scared me now- three ghoulish grandmothers with bags of knitting needles and yarn.

One of them looked at me, and even though she didn't say anything, my life literally flashed before my eyes. Suddenly I was twenty. Then I was a middle-aged man. Then I turned old and withered. All the strength left my body, and I saw my own tombstone and an open grave, a coffin being lowered into the ground. All this happened in less than a second.

It is done, she said.

The Fate held up the snippet of blue yarn- and I knew it was the same one I'd seen four years ago, the lifeline I'd watched them snip. I had thought it was my life. Now I realized it was Luke's. They'd been showing me the life that would have to be sacrificed to set things right.

They gathered up Luke's body, now wrapped in a white-and-green shroud, and began carrying it out of the throne room.

"Wait," Hermes said. The messenger god was dressed in his classic outfit of white Greek robes, sandals, and helmet. The wings of his helm fluttered as he walked. The snakes George and Martha curled around his caduceus, murmuring, Luke, poor Luke.

I thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come home.

Hermes unwrapped Luke's face and kissed his forehead. He murmured some words in Ancient Greek- a final blessing.

"Farewell," he whispered. Then he nodded and allowed the Fates to carry away his son's body.

As they left, I thought about the Great Prophecy. The lines now made sense to me. The hero's soul, cursed wraith shall reap. The hero was Luke. The cursed wraith was my best friend, Tempest Montgomery- cursed to be a ghost endlessly. The first choice was made by me- the choice not to give up hope. The second choice to was by Tempest- to not hesitated, and to kill him. The last choice was on Annabeth had; to choose to believe that he was still capable of setting things right. Olympus to preserve or raze. By sacrificing himself, he had saved Olympus. Rachel was right. In the end, I wasn't really the hero. Luke was.

And I understood something else: When Luke had descended into the River Styx, he would've had to focus on something important that would hold him to his mortal life. Otherwise he would've dissolved. I had seen Tempest, and I had a feeling he had seen Annabeth. He had pictured that scene Hestia showed me- of himself in the good old days with Thalia and Annabeth, when he promised they would be a family. Hurting Annabeth in battle had shocked him into remembering that promise. It had allowed his mortal conscience to take over again, and defeat Kronos. His weak spot- his Achilles heel- had saved us all.

I glanced at Tempest, and saw her sitting on the floor, rocking herself back and forth, her hands on either side of her head. She looked manic and broken, and she couldn't stop staring at the bloody spot on her pants. Aphrodite sat right next to her, gently speaking words of comfort. Aphrodite looked different than usual. She had dark skin and curly hair, with warm eyes. She was short, and held Tempest's shoulders gently. Tempest's eyes eased up more and more as Aphrodite spoke and the rocking slowly came to a stop. She leaned against the love goddess, murmuring quietly in that language I didn't know.