Mortals Meet Demigods- Mist or No mist-

Chiron

80 years after the war.

I stand on the steps of the big house, surveying the Camp. The new generation of demigods, training, teaching, surviving. I recently came back from an archery sessions, the sons of Apollos have gotten lousy, not one of them any good at it, better than me, but nowhere near as good as Frank. I smile at the memory of Frank. He led a good strong army, as a good strong leader. My smile turns into a bad one as I think about his passing. A peaceful one, one fit was a troubled life. Hazel soon followed him, just a week later. Peaceful as well. I walk down the steps of the big house and across to the dinning pavilion. Standing in front of the eating area, a large model of the Argo two stands, on a tall pillar of stone. Engraved on the stone in Greek and Latin, are names. Frank, Hazel, Jason, Piper, Nico, Reyna, Will, Leo, Calypso, many, many more. Each of them a hero. They lived a long life. All of them. They stuck around camp a bit, went off to College, worked, and also taught at camp. They inspired so many young demigods. Their stories still told around the campfire.

"You idiot!" someone shouts behind me, I turn, A son of Athena and a daughter of Poseidon, (Yes I know pretend) around 14 years old are arguing.

"I know what I am talking about," the daughter of Poseidon shouts back.

"Really?" The Athena boy asks.

"Really Really."

"So you think, the only way to kill a Minotaur is to stab it with its own horn?" she questions.

"Yes just like Percy Jackson did."

"What about the battle of Manhattan, the second time he killed it, with his sword." Realization dawns on her face. The boy laughs. I smile. They remind me so much of Percy and Annabeth. Percy and Annabeth, still going, together, I am about to visit them now actually. I turn to go to their shack. An Apollo boy comes running to me, a pain stricken look across his face.

"Chiron, I am so sorry," he huffs, "They're gone, in their sleep not a minute after each other." No no no, this can't be happening, the greatest swordsman and hero of all time. A legend, gone. I bow my head so does the son of Apollo.

"Thank you, please don't tell anyone yet," I tell the boy. He walks away slowly. I turn back to the statues. Magically engraving itself is Percy and Annabeth's name, side by side. In Greek and Latin a hero of both.

-----Timeskip------

I tell the camp, that night. The bonfire doesn't even burn, as it the gods themselves are grieving. Silence, utter silence, at the camp that night. The only sound the whispers of bitter sweet tales of Percy's and Annabeth's life. We burn their shrouds the day after. The camp fire still low. The son of Athena and Daughter of Poseidon, grieve together, and I relies there is always going to be a hero of heroes every century, and their time just begun.

YVX