✔ Aspen | Sherman Yang

[15.02]

At that moment, all he could hear were the voices of their fallen comrade. 

Her blue eyes had been shining with grief, bravery, and acceptance. She led them to war, saving them at the expense of her own life. They let her lead them because it was all they knew to do. Children of Ares didn't want to stand in the sidelines, they wanted to fight, but not without a leader.

Sherman realized that he too had to take the blame. 

He needed a sense of purpose, one he hadn't had in a while, and she fit in perfectly. Silena was there where she needed them, she was there at the right time. Deep down, he and all his siblings knew that the daughter of Aphrodite was not a natural-born leader in the way Clarisse and Annabeth were. She didn't command respect with one look and no one really did respect her until she led Cabin 5 into battle as one of them. Yet the respect she earned did not make up for the fact that she wasn't a strong fighter.

Every one of his half-siblings knew that it was a suicide act, running into battle like that, hoping to defeat a Drakon when she could barely defeat a man. Her strengths were mental, not physical. She could take heartbreaks, she could guide any broken soul towards happiness again, yet she was not a fighter. They wanted to believe that just time, even with a blessing, that she could defy the odds and go against a prophecy.

Maybe it was a suicide act.

Sherman sipped on a little Kool-Aid, staring at the party from the corner of the emporium. Absurdly bright colours swarmed his vision as people shot-gunned cans of mountain dew extra and danced inappropriately. He felt the urge to shout at them for not grieving because so many had died while they partied.

Yet he was standing in the emporium too. He was still a part of the party even if he wasn't drunk on sugar. It was common knowledge that Greek demigods were horrible at grieving. Funerals were only met with tears from loved ones and after all, it was a party. They took out their sadness with sugar, exercise, and doing exceptionally stupid things. At least, for the most part, that's what they did.

He wondered if being a hero wasn't her real motivation. Sherman closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wondering if something could have been different if he only pushed her back and didn't let her throw herself into a battle already lost. How in love was she? Though a traitor, her soul was certainly loyal to them. It could have been that she believed a life without her soulmate wasn't a life worth living. Yet maybe it was because of the guilt. He couldn't imagine the toll that would take in her heart. Silena knew that only a child of Ares could kill the Drakon. There was no way she believed she would slay it, no way she truly believed she wouldn't die.

When he opened his eyes again, everything seemed to move slower. Maybe, it was a combination of them all. Maybe she wanted to die because she missed her lover and she felt too much shame, all while hoping that she could redo her actions and save the lives of other demigods. That was what Sherman decided to accept. He left it like that, though truly, he still wondered if the act was more of an act of brave suicide rather than pure heroism. 

The first thing he comprehended after coming back from his daze was the two braided pigtails that were nostalgically familiar. Miranda had worn those braids during the funeral, as well as her first few days at Camp, braided Silena herself. It just happened to be the way she decided to honour her memory.  She looked beautiful, something he didn't stop himself from thinking anymore.

She approached him hesitantly and he smiled weakly, hoping not to appear too hostile. 

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said automatically, though her facial expression betrayed her doubts. "Other than the fact that too many people died a couple of days ago but yea, I'm totally fine."