Reincarnation in the PJO verse: Volume 1

『Cooked, or am I?』

"What?"

"We're not done yet. This wasn't even the final fight."

Diedre didn't respond at first. Then he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small sliver of celestial bronze. It caught the light, like a memory refusing to fade.

"I used to think fate was this road I could walk backwards. That if I remembered enough of it, I could lead us home without anyone falling. But it doesn't work like that."

Percy glanced at the bronze sliver. "So what do we do now?"

Diedre turned to him, eyes reflecting the city's scattered lights. "Now we keep walking. Together. Not because we're heroes, but because they were. Silena, Charlie, Lee, Michael—" His voice caught. "We fight so that someone else doesn't have to."

Percy stood, sheathing Riptide. "Then let's finish this."

Diedre rose beside him. He took one last look at the battlefield, at the scorched earth and collapsed monsters. And he whispered—not to the sky, but to the ones he'd lost, the ones he hadn't yet known how to save:

We're still here. We're still trying.

He followed Percy through the lobby, into the elevator, and up toward Olympus.

Toward the end of the world.
Or maybe it's rebirth.

♫♫♫

After Mrs. O'Leary shadow-travelled into the void, Diedre stood just outside the lobby, his bow slung over his shoulder and golden eyes scanning the streets. For now, the enemy had retreated, but tension still hummed in the air like a plucked string.

He turned and headed back inside, just in time to catch Percy rejoining Annabeth. Diedre lingered a moment before following them toward the elevator. They didn't need words between them—years of growing up together had taught them how to read each other in silence. Still, he could feel the ache radiating from both of them. Grief was a quiet companion now.

Before the elevator, they spotted Grover kneeling beside a wounded satyr. Diedre immediately recognised the frail figure—Leneus.

The satyr looked barely alive, his lips tinged blue, his breathing shallow. A broken spear jutted from his gut, and his hooves were bent unnaturally.

"Grover..." Leneus's voice was weak, barely a breath.

"I'm here," Grover said, holding his hand. Tears lined the edges of his eyes, even after everything Leneus had said about him.

"Did we win?"

Grover nodded. "Yes. Thanks to you."

"Told you..." Leneus whispered, a shadow of a smile crossing his face. "True leader..."

He exhaled one last time, and Grover gently pressed his hand to the satyr's forehead, murmuring a blessing in the Old Tongue. Diedre closed his eyes out of respect, feeling the shift in the air as the body dissolved into a laurel sapling, a mark of honour. Nature's last benediction.

"I'll plant him in Olympus," Grover said softly. "In the gardens."

"We're going that way," Percy said. "Let's go."

Inside the elevator, the soft drone of music was at odds with the grim silence between them. Diedre watched Percy and Annabeth closely—he knew what came next, had always known—and it didn't make witnessing it any easier.

"Percy," Annabeth said at last, her voice strained. "You were right about Luke."

Diedre averted his gaze, giving them the illusion of privacy. Grover looked just as uncomfortable, pretending to be fascinated with his new laurel sapling.