𝒞𝒶𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸 | ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ¹

3. That was kinda my fault...sorry

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

You poor thing

Sweet, mourning lamb

There's nothing you can do

It's already been done

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

⚔ Percy wanted to throw himself into a ditch.

The moment he emerged from the beach surrounding Long Island, Connor Stoll from Hermes, who was on lookout duty, spotted him and promptly fell out of the tree he was in due to sheer excitement. He blew the conch horn the moment he stood back up to signal the camp and ran to greet him.

Connor had a crooked smile that matched his crooked sense of humour.

He was a nice guy, but you should always keep your hands on your wallet when he was around and do not, under any circumstances, unless, of course, you had a Helena, who both boys were scared shitless of, give him access to shaving cream unless you want to find your sleeping bag full of it.

Percy learnt the hard way.

Conner had curly brown hair and is a little shorter than his brother Travis, which is the only way Percy could tell them apart despite Helena managing to point out several differences in their facial structure, whatever that meant.

"Percy!" he yelled. "What happened? Where's Beckendorf?"

Then he saw Percy's expression, and his smile melted.

"Oh no. Poor Silena. Holy Zeus, when she finds out ..."

Together they climbed the sand dunes. A few hundred metres away, people were already streaming towards the duo, smiling and excited.

They are back; they were probably thinking. They saved the day! Maybe Percy and Beckendorf brought souvenirs!

Percy stopped at the dining pavillion and waited for them. No sense rushing down there to tell them what a shitjob he had done.

Percy gazed across the valley and tried to remember how Camp Half-Blood looked the first time he saw it. That seemed like a million years ago.

In some ways, the camp hadn't changed. But if you couldn't see the war by looking at the buildings or the fields, the faces of the demigods and satyrs and naiads coming up the hill told you enough.

There weren't as many at camp as four summers ago. Some had left and never come back. Some had died fighting. Others—they tried not to talk or think about them—had gone over to the enemy.

The ones who were still here were battle-hardened and weary.

There was little laughter at camp these days. Even the Hermes cabin didn't play so many pranks.

It was hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one.

Chiron galloped into the pavillion first. His beard had grown wilder over the summer. 

"Percy!" he said. "Thank the gods. But where..."

Annabeth ran in right behind him. Percy's eyes scanned the crowd and found Helena's. She was standing next to Ethan with her eyes narrowed at him. Uh oh.

Ethan leant down and whispered something in her ear, making Helena's gaze narrow further and flicker downwards.

Percy looked down and found a piece of the magic healing seaweed still wrapped around his ankle. He looked back up and Helena had her brows raised. He gave her a strained smile, which made her pinch the bridge of her nose, no doubt cursing him under her breath.