Chapter One
It had been nearly a month since Percy Jackson died in Tartarus. During this time, all of Camp Half-Blood was slowly descending into sadness. Their golden boy was gone, and this time he wasn't just a ride on the Argo II away.
The seven had been hit the hardest, especially so in Annabeth's case. She was rarely seen, refusing meals and sometimes even her classes. Most of the time, her eyes were rimmed with red, her appearance overall looking disheveled and very much not like the Annabeth the camp knew and loved. But one day, all of that changed.
November 12, 2013
Grover Underwood, resident finder of Pan, came back to Camp Half Blood with news. "I've found him!" Grover shouted. He galloped to the Athena cabin and opened the door. Annabeth was sitting on a bed farthest from the door, reading another one of her architecture books. The two other people in the cabin turned around, one of them writing equations on a whiteboard, another sharpening her sword.
The satyr was by now out of breath, but he still ran over to Annabeth and whisper shouted the good news. She stood up carefully, unsure if he was telling the truth or not. Of course he was, she thought, Grover' s a terrible liar. Teh demigod took her dagger of of the nightstand, closed her book, and walked away with Grover. "Marcus, you're in charge," she called back to the boy at the whiteboard. He nodded and kept on writing.
Chiron allowed Annabeth to follow Grover, and they both piled into Argus's white van. Grover told their driver the location, and they soon sped off down the country roads.
Eventually, they made their way into downtown Manhattan. coincidentally, their ride got stuck in traffic just outside Percy's house. Annabeth felt another stab of grief and looked down at her feet. Grover looked away. The ride was silent, until Argus turned onto the main road of Central Park. He parked the van, and his two riders climbed out.
Grover looked around, and bleated quietly when he found his way. Annabeth nearly struggled to keep up with the satyr's movements. Thankfully, he was wearing pants. They ran through a maze of nannies with strollers and food trucks.
Finally, her companion stopped, turned around. He ran up to a large oak tree, which had a small golden plaque staked into the ground next to it. It read: In loving memory, Perseus Jackson. Tears welled in both of their eyes, and Annabeth slowly sat down in the soft grass.
"This is beautiful," she whispered, "but how do we know that it's really him?"
"Reincarnation," he said simply. "Percy loved this world too much to give it up for Elysium."
The two of them sat for a while, reminiscing about their lost friend. They sometimes thought messages to him, words of love and compassion. Both Annabeth and Grover thought full well that Percy couldn't hear them.
But he could.
Percy had been sitting with his two best friends during these hours, easily able to hear their beautiful, sentimental thoughts. He would silently laugh with them, and cry with them at times. Unfortunately, all of his commentary would be unheard to the people of this world.
Percy sat, as an oak tree for days, weeks, even months. Occasionally, someone he knew-or used to know-would pass by. His mother, Sally, would lay a single bag of blue jelly beans at his feet on his birthday. Annabeth would sometimes come over, to spill her guts, talk about some architectural accomplishment, or fill him in on just what was going on. Nearly every person who visited him thought one similar thought. They'd wished Percy would come back.
Suprisingly, Percy still had a slightly dysfunctional empathy link with Grover, but it was sort of... broken. He could hear, for the most part, what was going on in his old friend's mind, see most of the things that he did. Grover would on occasion call out to Percy, mournfully asking for help. Sadly, Percy could never respond to any of these actions. In fact, Percy didn't want to think about these things, all these hardships everyone was going through while he just sat and listened; they depressed him. So, he decided to take action.