I

Percy

Demigods always have bad dreams, but Percy was beginning to think he was going insane when the lines between sleep and wake were blurring. Each time he woke up he was covered in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. The images in his mind were too vivid, too real, and he'd always scan the room for a threat that wasn't there anymore.

It's ok, he thought. I'm just shaken up. I mean, I just went through literal hell. I deserve some slack. But Percy knew better. He'd been a part of this world of monsters and gods for years, and never had he once been proven just plain old paranoid.

Suddenly there was a knock at his door, so he put on his best brave face and said, "Come in!"

Jason Grace stood on the other side of the threshold with a look of pure exhaustion on his face. His regularly combed blonde hair stuck out in every direction like he'd stuck his finger in a light socket and his clothes were singed slightly along the edges, giving off a faint metallic, burnt toast smell.

"Look man," Jason said, still a little out of breath. "We're going to start sailing again soon, so you'd better get onto the deck. It's getting crazy out here." Percy nodded, so Jason left.

Pulling on some jeans and a rumpled T-shirt, Percy made his way to the deck where the others were all waiting for him. Piper, downplaying her beauty as usual, in a threadbare shirt and well-worn jeans. Leo, smeared with machine oil vigorously waving his Wii remote. Jason, trying unsuccessfully to tame his hair. Frank, talking quietly to Hazel, who looked dead tired and ready to drop. And Annabeth…

Even dead tired, worn to the bone, and mentally exhausted, Percy still thought she looked amazing. She'd been through hell with him, seen the same things he'd seen, and yet her grey eyes still shone with a fierce determination that, to this day, rocked him to his core. Those eyes had startled him when they'd first met, but he'd grown to love how unwavering she was in her resolve. But she'd been afraid… of…

As he made his way toward the other end of the deck, Annabeth caught his eye and walked over to him. "Hey, Percy." She searched his face, analyzing and calculating in that way of hers, and Percy turned away, trying to keep the results of his nightmares off his face.

"So what's all of this about, anyway?" Percy asked as the other five noticed him. "I'm guessing whatever's going on, it's a problem, right?"

Leo grimaced, fidgeting with a lug nut and pressing buttons on the Wii remote. "Well, the problem is that we've got no idea what to do next, and every monster in Tartarus is after our hides."

Annabeth made a face, but said, "Yeah. We need a game plan. We can't just march up to Gaea and wing it or we're all monster chow."

Percy nodded, but had no idea what kind of plan could succeed against the Mother of Earth. Then again, he had to give his girlfriend credit—she was great at plans with long odds. In fact, he couldn't think of a single one that hadn't sounded insane and suicidal at the time. I mean, for Pete's sake, he thought. The only reason we didn't die in Tartarus was because Annabeth knew how to get herself out of horrible situations.

"We've got, what, two weeks?" Hazel said. "Theoretically that's enough time to get to the Acropolis, but everyone knows how that could turn out. We'll probably barely get there in time."

Annabeth sighed, and Percy again watched as she got that I'm planning something look on her face. Her nose scrunched up, her eyes narrowed a little, and she ever so slightly sucked in her bottom lip. He could imagine the gears turning in her head, formulating one of her Athena-worthy plans and calculating every step for the best outcome. Finally, she glanced at Leo. "What's the fastest way to the Acropolis?"

"Through the Strait of Corinth," Leo replied. "Why?"

Percy studied the map Leo had brought up and pointed at the strait. To him, it seemed alarmingly narrow and too much like the tightening of a noose. If they sailed through there, the Argo II could easily be overwhelmed if it were attacked from all directions. There'd be no turning back and no way to plow forward. "It seems a little narrow. Are we sure that's the best way?"

No one could answer him, but Frank stepped forward and pointed at the land mass beneath the strait. "If we don't go through the strait, we'll be forced to go all the way around the Peloponnese. Who knows how much longer that could take?"

"Yeah," Percy countered, "but, correct me if I'm wrong, isn't that a tactical nightmare? I'm no expert like you, but wouldn't we be easily trapped?" He could see the ship in his mind, being attacked from every side, the cannons and defenses unable to keep up until eventually everyone tired and then they were overwhelmed. He wasn't a genius like Annabeth, or a tactics guy like Frank, but he'd been in enough battles to know being surrounded by an enemy, especially one with almost inexhaustible resources, was not a good thing.

Jason scratched his head and scanned the map himself. "Nothing can be easy, can it?" he muttered, picking at his singed T-shirt and shooting the sky a look.

At Percy's side, Annabeth straightened and snapped her fingers. A look of realization lit up her face as a lightbulb went off. "Hazel, could you control the Mist and hide us as we crossed the strait? Then we could—"

"I wish," Hazel interrupted, "but there's no way I could keep the Mist bent that long. Besides, Hecate already told me some of her followers defected to Gaea and we don't know if they'd be along the strait or not. As far as we know, Gaea completely expects us to take the shortest route to Athens and had planned accordingly."

Percy stood there listening to everyone throw in their two cents when a scrap of his nightmare came rushing back to him.

He was standing at the bow of the Argo II and keeping watch for any monsters like he did almost every night when Leo set the boat down into the sea. He could feel the pulse of the water as if it were a living thing, and it calmed his nerves like it always did, like he was home. Air travel with Jason was safe enough, but the sea was his home turf, and whenever they sailed anywhere he felt more at ease.

The night was balmy with a slight breeze, and Percy found himself enjoying his lazy surroundings. Above him stars shone brightly, their white light in stark contrast with the dark night sky. His spirits darkened thinking about Bob, though, who he left in Tartarus so he and Annabeth could close the Doors of Death. Bob had wanted to see these stars again, feel the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze of spring. Now Bob was… well Percy didn't want to think of what happened to him.

Suddenly, the sky turned blood red and the Argo II lurched violently to the left, sending Percy sliding down the deck, knocking him against ropes and crates. He tried in vain to catch hold of something anchored to the floor, but instead slid into the mast. He clung to it, trying to figure out what caused the ship to dip like that, but came up empty. If it had been something from under the water he already would've sensed it, and, as far as he could see, nothing was flying above him. Of course, it was hard to see through the blood red sky.

As he pulled himself to a stand he heard someone cry out from the ocean, "Help!" His heart caught in his throat when he recognized the voice to be Annabeth's, screeching for someone, anyone, to save her.

Without a second thought, Percy dove overboard to retrieve Annabeth. But as he hit the water a burning pain spread throughout his body, stealing the breath from his lungs and causing a wave of agony to wash over him. He was struggling to see, still trying to find Annabeth. That was all that mattered, all that he cared about. After everything they'd gone through, he would not lose her. He'd promised.

You're so naïve little hero, a deep voice boomed from all around him. Before any of this started you chose your path, and now you get to see how that will affect the one you love. Any path you take now will play into my hands.

It was Gaea, and that horrible, filthy voice sparked something in Percy. Something that he hadn't felt since he controlled Akhlys' poison back in Tartarus. It was blinding anger. He was angry at Gaea for trying to destroy the world, angry at Arachne for dragging him and Annabeth into Tartarus, angry at the gods for using him as a pawn, angry at the Romans for marching on Camp Half-Blood, angry at Leo for firing on them, but most of all…

He was angry at himself. It was his fault that Bob and Damasen were killed in Tartarus. It was his fault that he couldn't stop Annabeth from falling into Tartarus in the first place. It was his fault that he hadn't ever helped Bob after he'd wiped the guy's memory. And it was his fault that the gods had closed Olympus in the first place. Yeah, the gods could be petty and ridiculous, he knew that, but if he hadn't been the upstart, the showoff, the hero, this issue with Gaea might've been resolved so much sooner. Lives could've been saved.

Yes, Gaea goaded. That anger, that hate. You have finally realized why heroes are doomed, haven't you? Heroes may be noble and brave, but you still serve a lot of selfish weasels. The gods use you all as pawns in a never ending game that only begun because some immortals cannot face the facts: they will fall someday, just as Rome fell.

I pity you, Percy Jackson, I do. You understand something the others don't. Something your friend Luke Castellan did understand, but didn't accept. You're doomed serving the gods and doomed if you try anything else. You half-bloods can never come out truly victorious.

"Percy!"

Annabeth was snapping her fingers in front of Percy's face, calling his name and trying to get his attention. Her face was a wall of worry, fear, and flashback, but as soon as Percy heard her calling his name he came out of whatever weird nightmare/flashback thing he was in and looked around. He was standing exactly where he had been when the others were arguing about the Strait of Corinth, except now everyone was staring at him oddly, like they were worried… but a little scared, too.

"Uh… you okay, dude?" Leo laughed nervously. "You kind of zoned out there."

Gaea's disturbing words pounded in Percy's head, making him groan, and a wave of nausea swept over him. He wanted to deny it, to push Gaea from his mind, but he knew that no matter how bad it sounded and no matter how much every demigod wished it weren't true, they were all doomed to a fate they hadn't chosen. Every great hero has a tragic ending, and demigods are considered the original heroes, the mighty heroes of Greek mythology. It was fitting they always had a crappy life and, usually, a horrible death.

Percy turned away and started walking toward the edge of the ship. He needed to get away and go where no one else could follow. Annabeth was always a comfort, but after Tartarus Percy couldn't help but notice the slight fear on her face, and it ate at his insides.

"I don't care which way you go," Percy shouted as he neared the edge. "But I'll be back at the end of my watch." He gave Annabeth a final look that, hopefully, conveyed, Just wait, I'll tell you later.

As he plummeted toward the ocean, he half expected to choke with poison again, but there wasn't any resistance as he slid into the water.

You half-bloods can never come out truly victorious.