{1} Princess - P. Jackson 🔱

"I hate to see the stars."

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We landed at Crissy Field after nightfall.

As soon as Dr. Chase stepped out of his Sopwith Camel, Annabeth ran to him and gave him a huge hug. "Dad! You flew... you shot... oh my gods! That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"

Her father blushed. "Well, not bad for a middle-aged mortal, I suppose."

"But the celestial bronze bullets! How did you get those?"

"Ah, well. You did leave quite a few half-blood weapons in your room in Virginia, the last time you... left."

Annabeth looked down, embarrassed. I noticed Dr. Chase was very careful not to say ran away.

"I decided to try melting some down to make bullet casings," he continued. "Just a little experiment."

He said it like it was no big deal, but he had a gleam in his eye. I could understand all of a sudden why Athena, Goddess of Crafts and Wisdom, had taken a liking to him. He was an excellent mad scientist at heart.

"Dad..." Annabeth faltered.

"Guys," Thalia interrupted. Her voice was urgent. She and Artemis were kneeling at Zoë's side, binding the huntress's wounds.

There wasn't much we could do. We had no ambrosia or nectar. No regular medicine would help. It was dark, but I could see that Zoë didn't look good. She was shivering, and the faint glow that usually hung around her was fading.

"Can't you heal her with magic?" Percy asked Artemis. "I mean... you're a goddess."

Artemis looked troubled. "Life is a fragile thing, Percy. If the Fates will the string to be cut, there is little I can do. But I can try."

She tried to set her hand on Zoë's side, but Zoë gripped her wrist. She looked into the goddess's eyes, and some kind of understanding passed between them.

"Have I... served thee well?" Zoë whispered.

"With great honor," Artemis said softly. "The finest of my attendants."

Zoë's face relaxed. "Rest. At last."

"I can try to heal the poison, my brave one."

But in that moment, I knew it wasn't just the poison that was killing her. It was her father's final blow. Zoë had known all along that the Oracle's prophecy was about her: she would die by a parent's hand. And yet she'd taken the quest anyway. She had chosen to save us, and Atlas's fury had broken her inside.

She saw Thalia, and took her hand.

"I am sorry we argued," Zoë said. "We could have been sisters."

"It's my fault," Thalia said, blinking hard. "You were right about Luke, about heroes, men—everything."

"Perhaps not all men," Zoë murmured. She smiled weakly at Percy. "Do you still have the sword, Percy?"

He didn't say anything, but brought out Riptide and put it on her hand.

She grasped it contentedly. "You spoke the truth, Percy Jackson. You are nothing like... like Hercules. I am honored that you carry this sword."

A shudder ran through her body.

"Zoë—" I said.

"Maria." She said, turning her head to me. "You showed me that Aphrodite's kids can be brave... Even with your beliefs, you acted like a true huntress." My heart sank, I wiped the tears angrily from my eyes.

"Zoë, let Artemis heal you, please" I cried.

"Stars," she whispered. "I can see the stars again, my lady."