Of course, I own nothing from the Percy Jackson series. Rick Riordan, unfortunately, does.

This is mostly an angst piece, but there's fluff and friendship too.

So. For this story, I kind of invented my own writing format, and I'll just explain it really quickly.

Normal – this is in present tense second person (narrator)

Italics – these are Thalia's thoughts and most of the time, they're in first person because (duh) it's from her point of view, but sometimes it's second person because she's thinking TO herself (ex: 'come on, Thalia, you got this'). Sometimes just a word is in italics to stress that word, not showing what Thalia's thinking, but sometimes one word italics are Thalia's thoughts, so use your discretion.

Paragraphs separated from the rest of the story –these are flashbacks or something separated from the immediate plot.

You just know this isn't going to work.

You're only halfway up the hill – heck, is it long – to the silhouettes of humans: campers, and assorted beasts and creatures. Like goatboy.

The monsters though, are closer. Close enough that you can hear their labored breathing over your own.

Zeus, help me now.

You fend them off as skillfully as you can – efficiently as possible too, but the various types of Hades' nasties – hellhounds, furies, empousae, weird things you don't even know how to describe, let alone name, are eating up the puny distance between you and them, roaring, screaming, hissing, while you scrabble up the hill.

You make a hoarse scream at them – Grover, Annabeth, Luke – to go faster and they do. Never realized Grover could run so fast.

Then it hits you.

They can run. You can't. My left thigh is basically in tatters. You are slowing them down. Your family (because that's what they are, right?) has a chance at survival if you don't burden them. And already, you can see that they are getting away from you. In his panic struck, adrenaline clouded haze, he – Luke – is leading the tiny band of stragglers – survivors – faster and faster. You can't catch up and you know it is testament to your fate. Didn't – Hal… he saw my future. Something about… something about a sacrifice.

You always liked bringing up the rear of the group. You all know that you're the best fighter and – Luke's second best. And you can defend the group. Luke's too hotheaded in a fight. He gets aggressive, offensive. That's why he's in the front. Forging the way ahead. I seal us up. You feel honored, just a little, (okay, more than a little) that your group trusts you with their backs. They don't even look over their shoulders because they just know that you won't let any harm come to them.

You also like the scenery. Not exactly like, no. In fact, you don't believe any of that stupid "Save the Green Planet" trash. Can't let Grover know that. But you do respect the wildlife. And nature. It's been surviving so long on its own. Lots of things are against it but it still thrives, unchecked, uncontrollable, no matter what Grover says, and it has won your respect, because surviving is hard.

And you know: this is it. No goodbyes. You stop. Turn around. Yet even now, they – Luke, Annabeth and Grover – still trust you. Don't look back. Running hard, the distance growing between you and them as fast as the distance is shrinking between you and the monsters. In their minds, you're right behind them, keeping the monsters at bay. And you are doing the latter. But you're yards away from – Luke. Annabeth. Grover. Oh gods. Oh gods. The monsters. The monsters are coming and what have I done? You resist the instinct to scream and charge up the hill, to just get away from this nightmare but you're not that naïve anymore. It's either their sacrifice or yours and you'd rather it be yours. Please: just don't let me die. Please – and the monsters are now surrounding you. So many. The small lucid corner of your brain thinks they only want me. No one else. Not Luke. Or Annabeth or Grover. The panic absent now that you are cornered, you feel just relief then even that is gone, replaced by your ADHD instincts and battle-hardened reflexes.

You used to train in your free time. With Luke. I beat him every single time. He couldn't stand that. The training had been enjoyable. You were both good, great, you could dare to say, and you felt strong. You could feel the way your weapons would cross over, how one of you would execute a perfectly done move, adding your own flair to it, making it your own, because you were that good. We relished it. And you could feel everything planned out – not in your mind, but in your body, springing back as a lightning fast block, twist and kick, or a parry. You felt pretty perfect. It was perfect. And we were even more amazing together against something.

You had hoped, someday, that when you made it to the safe haven – camp, Grover said – that you and Luke (and of course Annabeth) would be able to hone your skills even further, reach new degrees of perfection, and perhaps some people would notice, and they would congratulate you for being so good. Maybe a few would even look up to you. Talents are wasted going unnoticed.

For the first time in a very long time, you feel powerful. Just before the monsters strike, you feel power, not strength, flow through your body and you are struck with a new resolution to kill the monsters. To kill them all.

In your head, the time passes slowly. The seconds stretch out and you can see the hellhound hang suspended in the air while your senses drink in everything. Your brain is finally active, and you've never felt this good in your life. You are the only being that seems to move at a normal pace. You swing your spear around. You can see the celestial bronze tip glow before the tendrils of light and electricity creep out, almost curiously, and then slam into the beast, connecting you and it for just a second in my head before it falls. Before it even reaches the ground, the corpse implodes. When it finally seems like it will disappear, the body disintegrates into golden dust and swells out, exploding now, throwing the glitter into you face.

Then the most ear-deafening roar of thunder actually shakes the ground so I fall back, but it's okay, because I caused that thunder. I control it.

But one thing you didn't count on. Something far too simple. Of course other people can hear.

"THALIA!"

Luke stops. He sees you surrounded by a ragged ring of menacing beasts – beings straight from nightmares – but you turn to look at him, not the nightmares. You can't help it.

The anger in his eyes is unmistakable as he reaches for his nine-iron and lays a hand on Annabeth's shoulder, refusing to rip his gaze off of you. You see a lot of things besides anger in there too. Pain and disbelief the most. Fear and… fear?

You feel free though, crazed, drunk on this new power, and simply smile at him, whipping your head back to the monsters. You're sure he'll understand. He can't help you with a nine-iron. He also needs to be there for Annabeth, though your heart clenches slightly at that notion. (But you do love Annabeth. I really do.)

So you tune everything out, even the frantic need to see him again, to say goodbye, because he – no, they need to be saved. They don't need to remember what Hal said. They need to have the hope so they won't try to help me. They need to make it to camp.

Then the monsters really do attack in earnest. The first hellhound was nothing. Harpies dive and rake their claws on whatever skin they can get. Open the shield open the shield open Aegis get it now – you do. It spirals out explosively, scaring away the harpies, squawking, and its terrible head makes even the hellhounds yelp and scatter.

It gives you some space.

Everything is a blur of motion, heat, odor, split second decisions and there's a fury coming – you can see its foul teeth and the stench coming off of it makes you gag – chop off the claws the claws or it'll carry me off its grinning face of macabre triumph and greed leaves your stomach feeling empty, hollow, the butterflies are fluttering out any minute; the entire truth is coming – you're going to die. I'm going to die die die – get the claws you yank yourself out of the fury's eyes and immediately the trance is broken: you are not going to die – the spear comes around at full force, slicing off the legs and sending another monster to explode into dust. You don't even have time before a set of glistening black spines oozing with poisonous goo whistles past your ear and you instinctively duck.

You feel it more than anything. Roll. The hellhound nearly lands on you this is not going to last much longer and almost rips out your leg. It satisfies itself with biting you, but before it can do more damage, instinct (you learn to manage the pain and leave your body on autopilot) gets the better of you and you slam Aegis into its snout! Roll over! Slice upwards, spring up, duck, kick, slash – no – underhand jab block block block it get out of the way – roll – slice up the monsters are converging on you and all you can do is keep them away. You can't hear anything except the roar. Roar of blood in your ears. Roar of manticores, hellhounds, demons, monsters as they surge up, as powerful as ever and almost cover you and you know you will never make it out alive. The strange surge of power before is gone; you feel drained and lightheaded but you must try for Luke. You parry messily against an empousa and her sword bites into your leg – the injured one – and yeahaowooooowwwwwwwwwwww pain is flaring in your leg, spreading, tingling, and how – how? For Annabeth and Grover, who need to get to camp safely and just for your tough, inexperienced, dysfunctional family, whom you have to protect. So you grit your teeth and –

"See Annabeth, it's not about just being good, no matter what idiotic things Luke says."

"Hey! What are you talking about, smarta –"

"Luke! We have a kid here! I swear to you, one of these days…" I trail off threateningly.

"Thalia. I'm not really sure how that's supposed to sound like a threat."

Annabeth prods Luke. "Could you not get off topic, please? I was trying to actually listen to what Thalia had to say."

I grin at Annabeth and smirk at Luke. "Thanks. Glad to know someone has some common sense around here. But as I was saying, if you come up with something totally unexpected, like actually having a plan—" Luke grins "—or running the other way, you can usually beat the opposing team because they'll be so shocked they'll either a) stand still for a while b) won't have prepared for that and won't have the defenses or c) decide they like your personality and won't kill you. See?"

Luke smiles and shakes his head. "You can usually beat the opposing team? Usually?"

"Shut up. See, Annabeth?"

Annabeth nods, but I can see a small frown on her face, as if something doesn't make sense. I heave a sigh. "Do you

want an example?"

She stares thoughtfully into the distance, pouting unconsciously, before slowly replying. "Yeah… I think I do. Yeah, I want an example."

"Okay." I get up. "Look at me. I'm a 12-year-old girl, weeks from becoming a teenager. I'm lighter and smaller than the average 12 year old, and as you can see, I'm pretty skinny, so I can't be that strong."

"But – but you are pretty strong, Thalia!"

"WAIT. Now look at Luke." Luke throws me an irritated glance. "What?" I ask. I cross my arms. "It's both of our jobs to protect Annabeth and make sure she doesn't like, get ripped apart. You gotta raise her too, you know, buster— "

"Okay okay, I get it!" Luke rolls his eyes but he's cracking a smile nonetheless.

Annabeth pokes my imperiously. "Proceed."

"So, Luke is a 14 year old boy, turning 15 in… what is it… 6 months, right? He's a) a boy so he's naturally stronger than me, even if I am pretty strong, and b) older so he's more experienced and again, stronger than me. Right?"

"… Right."

"But it's not always that simple. Watch me beat him to pulp."

Luke grimaces. "Ego, much?"

"You of all people should know that I have reason."

We both draw our weapons and stand in front of each other.

"Annabeth. You do the honors."

"Alright. Ready for a duel? Thalia on the spear and Luke on the sword! Ready, set, FIGHT!"

(I just have to say, it's so cute when she does that.)

We start parrying across the clearing, metal gleaming in the sunlight as our weapons cross and strike each other.
"Annabeth," I shout out to her, "I'm going to fight badly so that I'm at a physical disadvantage. If we were fighting with no surprises, Luke would win, but I'll show you what a surprise can do, okay?"

I slow down my movements, make my reactions a bit slower. I let Luke get me a couple of times with the flat of his blade. (He really enjoys that). My movements become messier and more desperate. Finally, I find what I'm looking for.
I run straight into him and literally leap into his arms. I can feel my cheeks thoughtlessly growing flushed, but I force the heat down as Luke panics.

He throws out his arms to catch me as I fling my arms around his neck to stop myself from sliding off his chest. He staggers under my weight and stumbles all around the clearing trying to regain his balance. I'm sure it would have been funny, except I am all too aware of the um… well, spike in bodily contact."So, Annabeth," I continue, head up, looking around for the little girl, trying to ignore Luke, but he suddenly shifts my weight so his arm is curling from underneath my back to barely grazing my ribs. My cheeks overflow with heat and my neck burns. I bury my head in Luke's shoulder to hide the embarrassment definitely tainting my face and carry on valiantly. "So now I got Luke to do option b) he doesn't have the defenses and failed and/or c) he decided he liked me enough."Luke mutters, "Oh Sparky. That did not sound the way you wanted it to."

"Yeah, it didn't, did it…" I trail off as my skin blazes with embarrassment. "Gods, this has been awkward."

"You think? You real –

"Surprise! I got both of you by SURPRISE!" A bomb of dirty blonde curls, grey eyes and tan skin slams into my back and

Luke topples over, cussing and yelling all the way down. I curse too, but at least my fall is cushioned. Annabeth is on top of me, grinning like the maniac she is and I feel a sudden rush of affection for this little 7-year-old girl who came into our lives sporting a hammer and flannel pajamas.

What's not to like?

I grin up at her and Luke groans.

"You two are crazy, do you know that? Just plain crazy. I'm dying here and you are just sitting there grinning like the effing Cheshire Cat or something. I don't know. Maybe it's a girl thing."

Still grinning, I ask Annabeth, "You get the power of ambush, kid?"

And still grinning, she replies back: "Yeah, I do. I really do."

You run.

When you had put up such a fight, none of the monsters, in their little microscopic monster minds had ever thought of you as a coward. If they can even think.

So when you do take off, dashing for the top of the hill, almost there, igno – the excruciating pain shoots through you and you crumple over your leg, make it stop the injured one, and you're not sure if you can stand it anymore.

The blood is soaking your pants, caking it, your face in the dirt and you can't help but notice the moss is an emerald green. Like my... My mom's eyes. My jacket is cracked – what are you doing? The monsters are coming, free of their shocked paralysis and are racing to the top, moving efficiently, if only, if only, if only I moved liked that and what are you – get up now, you dumberella, you stupid, run you idiot, your life literally depends on it – RUN! So you scrabble up. The roar is overtaking you again, the blackness is loitering on the edge of your vision, though you're not sure whether it's from the exhaustion or the beasts like the manticores but Hades does not have manticores! What is this run now thepain is slowing you down, but you have always fought.

So once again, you fight. This time, against the pain. You hate how you've been I hate running. I've run my entire life. Or hid. And, at the end of my life, I'm running. To get to a hiding place. But run. Because now I have people and I can't let them down. No doubt Luke's watching me now. Luke… Annabeth. I didn't see them the entire time I was fighting… you look up, towards the campers and the strangers, who are close – so close, just a couple hundred yards away and if you can reach that you are saved, you will be okay, no more worries, what you have been dreaming about – you push yourself, nearly there, (the hellhound bite is giving you more trouble than you expected) your eyes rove the unknown figures for three known figures and you find them.

It gives you an incredible burst of speed, seeing those three people well, 2 and a half people, and half goat – that you care about more than anything else in the world, but heck, the – don't cry don't you dare the pain overtakes you and a choked, desperate sob is ripped out of your throat.

I've never done that before. Never. Never cried. And still you doggedly try to run, to get into the camp's borders, just a bit more, your leg is numb now, you don't even feel anything except a strange tingling and stabbing sensation when your foot hits the ground. But this… worse than the pain.

Go faster – You can hear the breathing of the monsters behind you and the wet slop of their paws hitting the saturated moss and feel the droplets splash onto the back of your leg and your mind is screaming at you, tearing at your sanity, doing anything to get ahead, you are desperate, but your leg moves woodenly and you can't feel them and you can't move them and it's too much. So tired. Move move move, only a hundred more yards - the monsters, THE MONSTERS WILL KILL –

I am dying. I am going to die – duck – the two other furies dive, screeching, and grab your jacket and you are struck with fear, fear is clouding up your vision, it's choking you, you claw at the air, the fear is descending on you and you can see the mad light in the furies' eyes and hear the other beasts' roars swelling in your ears – they are surrounding you and screeching and you can hear the hiss of the wings slicing through the air and the fear that was clouding and choking you, holding you back, gives you a rush of adrenaline and you squirm, writhe, wriggle out of your jacket – my jacket oh gods they are going to destroy it – run run run – and you take off, just fifty yards or less now, it's going to be alright, and for the first time since you started this, you think you might make it out alive.

You can see the faces of Luke, Annabeth and Grover. They are all horrified, dirty, panicked, fearful, angry (that's mostly Luke) and you think you see hope too, and may – the spine bursts into your waist, the fleshy part, and fire is licking up your side, you can't feel anything; just the fire, your body won't respond, it's being burned and you can feel the flesh peeling back from the heat, you can't even gasp, can't do anything as the fire consumes you and I hit the dirt.

Everything is out of focus and the world is nothing but pain. Hurt. Pain. Pain is everywhere – my leg, my side, my head, my chest. Or maybe it's my heart.

I feel every part of the ground, the roots of the trees, the contours of the hill, the moss, spongy and wet. The hill is cushioning my head, the monsters are all here, triumphant, and the manticores, the stupid manticores… Hades doesn't even have manticores – if not for the manticores, I would be in by now; this is stupid. It's sad, really, I was literally almost there and I go down because of a stupid manticore quill. I've survived way worse things and now I am going to die and I can see the monsters. They're so happy. Grinning. Creepy.

You look past the beasts and into the camp – so close – and you see Luke. He's fighting the campers, the others, pushing forward, trying to get out of the camp, trying to get to you, but the others are holding him back. His face is twisted in pain and anger and fear – why fear? And he punches some guy and tries to run to you. He looks so scared and he's trying to hide it with the anger and pain and fury but you know him, you know him more than you know anyone else in the world, and you don't want him like that.

So even though you feel like giving up – lying and closing your eyes and no longer fighting the black lingering at the edges of your vision, sinking into the blissful ignorance because physically, everyone (everyone?) you care about is safe – you fight.

I have one more trick. One more. But I need as many of them to touch me as possible. It'll have to be that way then. Because I'll always help my friends right? Always.

Inching forwards, the monsters, all stupid, all terrifying, begin to revel that they have caught the daughter, the so-called invincible daughter of Zeus. Frankly, they shouldn't be so proud of themselves. There are like, 25 or so of them and one of me. I already killed at least half of them, so that leaves around 17 or less. That's pretty good for a 12-almost-13-year-old-girl. But to get all of the remaining monsters' attention on me…

You yell at them, taunt them. Anything to at least lay a claw on you.

"You're all so stupid. You're so happy because 25 of you managed to catch one little girl without being totally blasted into oblivion. Well, let's see if you mighty—" you snort "—monsters can actually kill this girl. Come on, you idiots! Come and get it, you blind underground feet lickers!" You're crying, tears streaming down your face and you don't know why. You refuse to look at the borders of the Camp Half-Blood, so close; you refuse to look at Luke, see if he has broken free. You can't have hope. I have to give everything up.

"Come and kill me, already!"

The monsters roar and your choppy, windblown hair is pushed straight off your face with the force of the lungpower behind the sound nearly deafening you.

Amidst the cacophony of battle roars and screeches, you hear the two remaining Kindly Ones cackling, and your blood is turned to ice.

As one, the beasts strike, swooping in from the air, pouncing from behind, simply bowling into you, still roaring and screaming and hissing so that you almost, almost miss the screaming and hoarse sobbing of someone breaking down.

That is what finally rips your heart out.

You can't see him. All you can take in is coarse fur and glowing eyes, undulating and pushing against each other in an effort to get to you first and kill you first. It makes you sick. You plan it out in your mind. When the most monsters are in contact with you. The first couple breaks out of the pack and swipe at you – pain. Pain. Pain. It festers, glowing hot and unbearable, until you're sure you'll burst, because you physically can't hold that much but the pain just leaks out of your eyes, washing everything in black and red and brown, and I want to shut down. Just let go.But I can't. You can't, Thalia. Think about Luke. And Annabeth and Grover. Just wait until the pain is at the most and then unleash it.

The sobbing is still there, him sobbing, and it hurts more than any of the monsters, but you hear something terrible too. The gasping, choking, ugly sound of someone in terrible, terrible, excruciating pain and that's me. I'm crying. Not even crying anymore – I'm dying. That's me dying.Finally, the crush of monsters against you is too great. They're everywhere. On my chest, ripping out my hair, stepping on my fingers, pushing into me, biting me, clawing me – time for my last trick. Bye, monsters.

I feel it in my gut.

My own power connected to me – to my life. I don't need a weapon when I can use this – You force it out of you, the thing in your gut. It doesn't want to come out. Your face contorts in pain – everything is undefined – and finally, it explodes. You'd double over if you could, but you're much to weak to do that now.

Disconnected from this scene in your life, almost, you watch as your aura ignites in sizzling energy, immediately frying monsters. Lightning cracks the bowels of the earth wide open and rain pours down in slicing sheets. Thunder shakes the earth. The monsters retreat in terror and confusion, but lighting streaks down, over and over, converting those beasts to dust, and winds – can I even call them winds? They're so strong – blow away the harpies and the last two furies into trees, turning them into grease spots.

I'm doing all of this. All the grandeur of this storm – all the lightning, thunder, my aura charged with lightning, the wind, the rain – that's all me. I'm controlling this. It's – It's – crazy. I can't be this powerful.

But now, as the last of the monsters crumble to dust, you can't do it. You let go but the tugging sensation in your gut doesn't stop. It's overwhelming you and you feel as if your stomach is being ripped downwards. You can feel your life draining – my life is powering this storm – but you can't control your power any more. It's threatening you and you're too tired, in too much pain, to find the willpower to muscle against the sensation in your gut and turn it off.

The monsters are gone. But – as you lie there, the monsters are gone but their souvenirs have remained: bites, gashes, poison coursing through your body, bruises and burns (serious ones). Blood is blooming on your shirt and you can feel something oozing out of your head. You think a bone is broken, but frankly, you're in too much pain to tell.

If death means escape from this hell, I'm ready.

You can hear him, channeling the sound of anguish again. I'm sorry. But you're safe, Luke. Just… I hope he remembers what Hal said. I'll see him on the other side.

Now you regret not saying goodbye. Just to tell him to shut up and live his life. But it would have been too hard. You never had imagined ever having to leave Luke and frankly, I really don't know what to say. My skin feels so dry. Brittle. I can imagine it peeling off. My lips are cracked and my mouth is flaky.

The pulling sensation in your gut shuts off. I guess I have no more life to power the storm. I'll be dying shortly. I don't know why I'm so calm. Shouldn't I be freaking out? Shouldn't my life flash before my eyes? Shouldn't I not be thinking about Annabeth and Luke? Shouldn't I worry for myself?

I'm not worried about me; I'm worried about Luke. But he'll have a long time to think it over and heal. He has to take care of Annabeth because she's so small. She has so much to learn and she depends on him. I'm glad I'm dying, not them. I couldn't stand it if they died. At least they'll have to cope without me, not me without them. I bet Luke is calling me a selfish pig right now, but I don't care, because it's worth it if he lives, because – bec – because… because he's worth it.

O-o-O

No.

She isn't getting up. The stupid demigods still have a strong hold on his arms, on either side, holding him like a freaking prisoner, when she's there. Just a hundred feet away. He struggles against the idiotic demigods holding him down; for a moment, raw pain and anger at the unfairness of it all lends him strength and he knocks the stupid people away, not caring if he hurts them, because she matters, not them, and he's so angry and devastated and afraid.

He takes off, sprinting towards the immobile figure sprawled on the ground, dodging the stupid, sympathetic demigods, who not even once in their idiotic life had met her and he can't think. Feelings, emotions, bubble up and he can only comprehend the simplest things.

Pain.

Anger.

Fear.

He can't feel love. Not yet.

I know, I know, I didn't put her actual transformation in there, but it felt better to end it here. Believe me, I gave it a lot of thought.

If you're confused about something, PM me or ask in a review! I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

I also might add a second chapter to this. Tell me whether or not that would be a good idea in (where else) a review and, of course, I'll be sitting by my computer, checking my email every five minutes to see if I got an email from alerting me that I got a new review and/or favorite. Please make my wasted email-checking-time worth it. I'll thank you from the bottom of your heart and probably look through your stories! :P