Begins before the last battle, but not at any specific time.
Chapter 1 The Pressure Piles
"Slash, slash,
stab, spin, slash one, slash two, stab." Percy Jackson
visualizes each move as while still immersed within the depths of the
previous. Grunt, grunt, gasp, grunt, gasp. Exhaustion tugs
at the edges of Percy's body, making it difficult to hold the
Riptide. But still he raged on. "Slash, slash, stab, spin,
slash one, slash two, stab."
EVERYTHING depended on the
last battle. His mom, himself, the world, the Gods, Olympus, and
maybe most importantly…Annabeth. As he thought just her name, his
body felt light and all his aches seemed to decrease. He had
admitted it to himself days ago. "I love…Annabeth." His
breath caught in his chest as he repeated it to himself within the
depths of his mind. "I love Annabeth, I love Annabeth, I love
Annabeth, I love Annabeth, I love Annabeth." He had stopped
fighting and was staring at the sky. "Why did this have to come
down upon my shoulders? Why me, what makes me so special? WHY MUST
I DO THIS!?" Shouted Percy. He slowly felt out of his
rage, to look around at the training field, the dummies bleeding
blood. Fortunately, the dummies were the only people around. Percy
reddened slightly, as he realized he had gotten carried away, lost
within his war-filled thoughts. He slowly began to walk back to his
cabin, forever filled with a faint sea scent. He began his inner
monologue once again…
To be trapped between what he wants and what Annabeth desired. Annabeth still obstinately believed that Luke was of no fault. To Percy, he felt that yes, he would love to see Luke back, freed of Kronos' taint, but at the same time, he had enough sense (for a Seaweed Brain) that this was unlikely. Luke was lost forever. The last time Percy had seen Luke, he had appeared…rougher, less humane. Percy shuddered at the thought. But Percy would do what had to be done. If the chance arose for him to save Luke while saving the world and sticking to the prophecy, Percy would take the chance. If saving the world and sticking to the prophecy meant he would have to kill- Percy gulped. He allowed his mind to wander around that path, and eventually came to the inevitable truth. The thought was too much for him. The last thing he saw before he blacked out were two pairs of feet-no, wait, a pair of hooves, and shoes-Annabeth's shoes. Blessed dream-less sleep floated over him and he gave himself over to his exhaustion.