Forgotten memories

Gingerina

Percy spoke first. He launched into the story the way he always does when he knows he's about to get in trouble—fast, a little guilty, like if he gets all the words out quickly enough, maybe no one will yell at him. He told us everything: the explosion at Mount St. Helens, how the blast had hurled him straight out of the volcano, and how he'd ended up stranded on some mysterious island in the middle of nowhere. Apparently, Hephaestus himself had found him there, given him permission to leave, and even sent him back on a magic raft that carried him all the way to camp.

When he finished, the room went quiet. Every eye shifted to me.

I swallowed hard. My turn.

So, I started explaining—well, not everything, but the parts I could share. I told them how I'd been blasted out of the volcano too, only in the opposite direction, shot north instead of west. And honestly, I barely survived. If it hadn't been for the medallion, I wouldn't even be standing here. They wanted to know how bad it had been, how bad the injuries really were.

So... I showed them.

I held up the talisman. It was still blackened, cracked, and ruined from the blast. Then, slowly—almost like my hands didn't want to do it—I tugged the collar of my shirt down just enough to reveal the burns creeping up my neck.

The reaction was instant. Sharp gasps filled the room, a few people whispering under their breath. And I swear I heard Christine choke back a sob.

"You've both been gone for two weeks," Annabeth said finally. Her voice sounded steady, but her face told a different story—pale, tight, shaken. "When I heard the explosion, I thought—"

"I know," Percy cut in quickly. "I'm sorry. But—I figured out how to get through the Labyrinth. I talked to Hephaestus."

"He told you the answer?" I asked, though from Percy's expression, I wasn't so sure.

"Well... not exactly," he admitted. "He kind of told me I already knew the answer. And... I do. I think I get it now."

And then he laid out his idea.

Annabeth's jaw dropped. "Percy, that's insane!"

Chiron leaned back in his wheelchair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "There is precedent, however. Theseus had Ariadne. Harriet Tubman, daughter of Hermes, relied on mortal allies during the Underground Railroad. Sometimes... that is the way of things."

"But this is my quest," Annabeth shot back, her voice tight and sharp. "I'm supposed to lead it."

Chiron's face softened, but there was discomfort there too. "My dear, no one disputes that. It is your quest. But even the greatest leaders need help."

"And this is your idea of help?" she demanded. "Please. It's wrong. It's cowardly. It's—"

"Hard to admit we need a mortal's help," I said quietly, before I could stop myself.

"But it's true," Percy added.

Annabeth whirled on him like a storm. "You are the single most annoying person I have ever met!" And with that, before anyone could stop her, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

Percy stared after her, jaw tight, fists clenched like he wanted to punch something—maybe himself. "So much for being the bravest friend she's ever had," he muttered bitterly.

"She will calm down," Chiron said gently. "She's jealous, my boy."

Christine let out the tiniest laugh—the first sound from her in a while—and I couldn't help it; I laughed too.