Annabeth Chase falls and doesn't get up, blood welling from the wounds over her chest and throat. It spills down her tanned skin in rivulets, rushing at first but crusting to a slow and when Percy finally notices that she's not at his side, he's too late.

A feeling of numbness makes him nearly topple over, and the battle rushes on around him but he doesn't listen. A hell hound runs towards him, but he dispatches it quickly, golden dust freckling his hair and shirt.

"Oh Gods, no–" he screams, and finally, he runs to her side, grabbing her paling face like he can call her back from Hades' gates.

"Annabeth, come on, come back. Wise Girl, this is not the way you're going out. You're too smart for that. You can't." He whispers, shaking and trembling. "Come on, it's you and me against the world, right?" Percy pulls her into his arms, cradling her head gently with a calloused hand. "No, no, no, please," he cries, pressing kisses over her face and once over her lips but she's cold and she's really gone.

The full force of what he's lost hits him, and he doubles over, clutching her to him like a lifeline but the line has been cut. The son of Poseidon will drown.