Shattered

Annabeth

Annabeth stood over at the head of the solid gold war table with her hair tied back in a tight ponytail, her hands grasping the edges as she examined the makeshift map of Elysium before her. The table, really Ping-Pong table taken from one of the numerous rec halls, painted a dire picture.

A red hockey puck represented Odysseus's camp to the East, or at least what she believed was East. Surrounding it were four small pebbles she had gathered from the shore that represented the approximately four hundred souls the former king of Ithica had gathered under his banner. The camp was making ready for battle, constructing weapons out of anything and everything they could find. Umbrellas were exceedingly popular as they could be fashioned into lances.

And he's an idiot if he thinks brute force can save us! I can't for the life of me see what my mother saw in him! How intelligent was he to start eating pigs that suddenly appeared right after his crew went missing?

A dolphin plushie, representing Perseus's camp, sat on top of a pile of National Geographics that represented the hills to the West. It only had two pebbles, but what the son of Zeus lacked in numbers he made up for in quality. The souls who followed the ancient hero were mainly composed of tradesmen, architects, and engineers; all of which were gathered together with the sole purpose constructing an impenetrable bunker that would last until the end of time. That group and that group alone was responsible for the lack of construction materials the daughter of wisdom desperately needed.

If they focused their efforts on reinforcing the gates and walls they wouldn't need to build a fort! I can't believe Sally named Percy after that misogynistic jackass!

Her heart, or the portion of her soul that mimicked it, felt like it was tightening in her chest at the thought of the son of Poseidon and his mother. The pain the daughter of Athena felt triggered the natural magics of Elysium that tried to numb her senses and make her forget the source of her discomfort. Just focus on the problem at hand. Don't be become like the others.

She focused on the makeshift map and the tempting haze began to lift. An empty Yoohoo bottle she had found washed up represented the camp of her older brother, General George S. Patton. While the camp only had one-hundred men and women on a good day, the flamboyant and arrogant son of Athena had somehow not only captured dozens of hellhounds, but had also broke them like wild horses. Some of the hounds could easily carry three to four full grown adults, which allowed the cavalry general to set up impressive supply lines and travel the elysian fields with ease.

Annabeth let out a sigh as her eyes settled on the series of sticks that represented the border of Elysium and the rest of Hades. It's just too much.

She had long ago given up on keeping an accurate count of the unjudged souls that were desperately trying to bring down the gates that surrounded Elysium, but at last count she had 1,219 pebbles, so many pebbles that Leo had to reinforce the war table's legs to stop it from tipping over. But with people dying every day, she could safely guess that the number of souls had since doubled.

When she had first arrived at the so-called paradise of Elysium (not much of a paradise without Percy), there had only been a few souls trying to get in. No one took notice of them, besides herself and Leo, as everyone else was in the strange trance-like state that only allowed them to enjoy the afterlife and give thanks to the gods for the eternal blessing they had been granted. She had of course tried to enjoy herself as a means to make the time until the son of Poseidon's arrival, but she always found herself drawn to the boundary.

And every time she went, the number of angry souls increased.

Possibly at a geometric rate.