The Mark of Olympus

❧ t w o

Can you imagine that just by saying those simple words contain the potential to kill someone slowly from the inside?

Because it did, and it hurt. I'm not even going to attempt to cover up and say something like 'and she suddenly sobbed with joy as she recognized me' because that would be completely pointless. This isn't some sort of fairy tale. There are no happy endings, especially if you're a demigod.

Her stormy gray eyes had been scanning me, and she shifted as she reached for her dagger. Of course, it hadn't been there. Why would you leave a dagger beside someone unconscious in the infirmary?

"Looking for this, Annabeth?" I ask, cautious as I bring out her darkon-bone dagger. The one she had gotten from Damansen in Tartarus. A pang of fear had stabbed at my heart, slowly making its way up my throat. Tartarus. Gods, I abhor that place.

"How do you know my name?" the blonde snapped, grabbing at her dagger, which I had put out of her reach. "And who in Hades are you?"

Her tone made me wince, and the cold prickly feeling was back, running up and down my arms. She couldn't have forgotten about me. We were perfectly fine the night before the attack. Was it possible that she had gotten amnesia? I doubted it, but it had been my only guess.

"Annabeth, it's me. Percy. Percy Jackson. The son of Poseidon. Annabeth Chase, I'm your boyfriend--"

She let out a bitter laugh, with no humor whatsoever incorporated in it.
"Boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend. You're delusional! Insane! And there are no children of Poseidon in this camp, and I've been here since I was seven."

"Yes, with Thalia Grace and Luke Castellan, right? And the satyr, Grover Underwood?"

She narrowed her eyes, her expression murderous. "How do you—"

"You were attacked by Cyclops on your way here, then Thalia sacrificed herself fighting off a hoard of monsters, and she died. She got turned into a pine tree by her dad, Zeus—"

She had somehow gotten her dagger without me noticing, and the tip was pointed at my throat.

"How do you know about this?" she demanded. I should've been scared, but I wasn't. So I had taken the risk and continued.

"And when Zeus' Master Bolt was stolen, we went to retrieve it. You, me and Grover. We got stuck in the Lotus Casino, and we had to do this stupid request for Ares, we got trapped in Waterloo and we were broadcasted on Olympus. Then we went to the Underworld. I fought with Ares on the beach, and—"

She had applied more pressure on the dagger, and I felt blood trickle down my neck. But I didn't care.

"We gave the lightning bolt back. We found out that Luke was a traitor, and one year later, he poisoned Thalia's pine so we headed out for the Golden Fleece. That was the year when Chiron was replaced by this dude who was punished so he wasn't able to eat or drink—"

"Tantalus," she growled.

"—yeah, that guy, and he appointed Clarisse for the quest, but we went anyway. Hermes gave us supplies and--"

She pressed the dagger more, the blade actually puncturing my skin. I winced, and stopped. I had looked at her straight in the eye, not backing down.

"We went abroad the Princess Andromeda, Luke's boat. This time, it was you and me and Grover and my brother, Tyson. He's a Cyclops, and—"

"I get it!" she snapped. "I get it, okay? You don't have to remind me! But you weren't there—"

Then I had done the stupidest thing ever. I leaned in and kissed her. I know, it was a desperate attempt. I couldn't live without Annabeth; I'd go mad. She pulled away, slapping me hard across the face. My cheek stung, and it was confirmed. Annabeth Chase had really forgotten about me. Trust me when I say this: it hurt worse than taking a dip in the Styx, carrying the weight of the sky, and continuously being impaled by Kronos' scythe happening simultaneously.

"Get away from me," she whispered, her voice thick with venom and disgust.

I gave her one last look, then pushed the wooden chair back and stood. "I'm sorry," I had said. And I meant it. It isn't everyday that you could get me to genuinely apologize to someone. Then I had walked away and left. I only thing that I had hoped was that she didn't have any memories from Tartarus, if she had really forgotten—I didn't want her to suffer alone, like how I'm about to if I stepped out of the door. And I did.

I passed several campers, all of them giving me strange looks, not so different from the ones teachers gave me. Their expression seemed to label me as troublemaker or pile of cow dung. There isn't much of a difference between the two, I guess. I stared straight down at the ground the whole time, unintentionally bumping onto people, until I found myself back in front of Cabin 3. I rested my hand on the cold silver doorknob, about to turn it and enter, when someone from behind poked me on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

My blood ran cold. No, this can't be happening. This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening to me?

Jason Grace was standing beside me, smiling slyly. His glasses were crooked, and I resisted the urge to fix them.

"Jason, I stay in this cabin." I said, trying to mask the fear in my voice. His smile disappeared, and both his eyebrows shoot up questionably.

"No one lives there, dude. Except for Tyson, the Cyclops." then he paused. "Unless they forgot to mention someone,"

"Bro, it's me. Percy Jackson? Does it ring a bell?"

He studied me weirdly, his fingers twitching as his hand inches closer to his pocket. "No, I'm afraid not. Let's get you to the Hermes cabin, yeah? Maybe you'll get claimed during the Campfire. Or maybe you'd want to walk around first? Or lie down in the infirmary? You look sick, and there is no one here named Percy Jackson. Much less anyone who stays in Cabin 3,"

I sneered, glaring at him the way Lupa had taught me. "Back off, Grace. Stop playing around. This isn't funny, okay dude? What happened to you? Got hit by another brick?"

He glared right back, and the recognition that had flashed across in his face vanished instantly, replaced with anger. He had flipped the golden coin, just as I turned the knob, running in and slamming the door closed. I fumbled with the lock, and managed to secure the door by pushing several small wooden tables to blockade it.

Then I sat on my bed, massaging my temples. First, it was Annabeth. Now Jason. Who's next on the list?

And as it turned out, pretty much everyone was.