Helloo, it's BookWorm here! Thanks for clicking on this story. I am a noob writer, and this is pretty much just the prologue to the story, but I hope you enjoy what I have so far. Please review!
I own nothing, but if I did I wouldn't make percabeth fall in Tartarus.
After Gaia was defeated, everything was peaceful, except for the vicious capture-the-flag games, the lava wall, and the heavy-duty combat training. No more wars were starting, no more great prophecies that predicted everyone's imminent death, all of the seven and almost all of the campers were alive, and celebratory End of the War parties happened at least once a week. The Romans had allied themselves with us Greeks, and we are currently free to roam between both camps. And few monsters dared to attack us demigods. As if Gaia sucked all the monsters down to Tartarus with her when we had banished her there.
And it currently sucks.
Back when we were nearing the finish to the second great prophecy and the war against Gaia, us seven were the most important people throughout both camps. Despite the brief period of time where the camps were at each others throats, we were respected and appreciated. (Some much more than others, but I honestly wasn't complaining). I was the fire guy, the builder and captain of the Argo II, and one of the people that had the power to destroy the world.
But not anymore. I was demoted to my old titles. The seventh wheel, repair boy, the extremely ADHD kid. No one looked at me twice except for those who had dumped their broken weapons on me and came to retrieve them without a thanks, or those that gave me a useless project they want me to waste my time on, as if that's all I'm good for.
I suffered in my lonely little world while the rest of the seven were treated like the gods themselves - worshipped and showered with gifts and gratitude. My friends, after seeing that they didn't need a tension reliever due to the peace, had completely forgotten about me - tossed me out like I was trash just like everyone else in my pitiful life.
I assumed that Jason and Piper would continue to consider me a friend, or at least someone who saved their lives on multiple occasions ... But I assumed wrong.
I expected maybe Hazel to show me an ounce of kindness, because that was her thing! She's the nicest and most compassionate one out of the seven, but not even she had bothered with the likes of me.
They, along with the rest of the seven, ignored me. Too busy with swapping spit to notice one of their former companions spiraling down into an endless state of depression and anger.
Well screw them! Screw everyone, Gods included, I ranted in my mind. I was done being their little tool that was used then just thrown out. I was done with their shit. So with those thoughts, a bag that was enchanted to be endless by a reluctant daughter of Hecate, and enough money, metal and scraps, ambrosia, nectar, and food to last me months, I left camp
It is kinda funny... the biggest heroes of the century, and they can't even save a friend that's right in front of their pathetic faces.