Chiron had seen too many heroes die young. But none would ever catch his attention like the two he could never forget.
Some days and years, they didn't show up much. Not too many things reminded him of them. For decades, this was so. But the recent war brought back memories, and with them came the memories of those two.
How happy they could have been if they had lived.
It wasn't only the war that reminded him, however. There were also the demigods that currently inhabited camp. And the first that caught his attention was William Solace.
At first, Will was just like any other child of Apollo, having grown too quickly after losing his brothers to the war. But then he started coming to meetings, and Chiron spent enough time around him to feel exactly why he was different.
He reminded him of a boy long dead but not forgotten. A boy whose name still echoed across the mortal world. A name Chiron hadn't said in decades but could still hear whispered in that cave.
Patroclus-
"When we were both alive, I... thought you were invincible. I knew of no one, nothing stronger, other than the love we shared. Was I deceived, in thinking this of you, of us."
.
.
.
.
Will rose before the sun with a forgotten name still on his lips. It scared him, not remembering his dreams. It scared him, not knowing where the melancholy in his chest came from.
Nostalgia. He just wasn't sure for what.
Things had been different ever since the war. People died, he had to step up to head counselor, the things he saw...nothing would ever be the same. But Silena's death changed everything he ever knew. Ever since he heard of how it happened, what she did and why, he felt the nostalgia he constantly woke up from.
It hurt, but something in him knew it'd hurt more if he figured out why it was there. So he ignored it.
He was working in the infirmary for only an hour when Annabeth burst in, the sun barely up and his heart barely beating. Her eyes were wide, frantic, her skin pale.
"Will, have you seen Percy?"
There was something about the air, how he had woken up, he knew something was wrong. His heart was in his stomach before he could stand up, a heart already aching for someone he couldn't remember.
"No, why?"
.
.
It was two days later when Will sat at his spot around the ping pong table, hands unwrapping and re-wrapping the ace bandages around his wrist. Percy Jackson being missing wasn't good. The feelings he had been getting weren't good.
"Chiron," he spoke up. "I have a really bad feeling."
It was only the two of them in the room, the others still coming. Chiron looked at him with something in his eyes, something Will couldn't place.
"Can you explain what you mean?" the old centaur asked, an unspoken name dancing on his lips.
Will didn't stop picking at the bandages. "I don't know. Silena's death really bothered me for some reason. Not just because she died but the...manner of it. And ever since, I've been having dreams. I can never remember them but they make me feel a certain way. Sad. Nostalgic. And now that Percy's gone...shit just feels like it's going to hit the fan."
"Silena's death, you said?" Chiron asked.
Will nodded.
Chiron suddenly looked older. "Some things happen for a reason, Will. Has anything else bothered you?"
"Not like that."
Chiron nodded. "Come to me if you remember anything."
"Remember anything? What do you-"
"He's not at Sally's!" Annabeth yelled as she entered the room. "He's not there and she hasn't seen him!"
"Miss Chase, please sit," Chiron advised. "We will have a meeting about this, but you must keep calm so we can inform everyone of the severity of the situation."
"Nico's coming?"
Chiron nodded.
Annabeth collapsed in her seat. There were bags under her eyes, and her hands shook as she ran them through her tangled hair.
"The others should be here shortly," Chiron said. "And Mr. di Angelo said he would-"
"I'm here," Nico cut in from the corner. He was stepping through the shadows, all dark and glory, something in his aura causing Will's heart to hurt a little more.
His hair was dark, and something about that didn't make sense for a second. But Will had seen him before and knew who he was, and he knew what he looked like. So he let the thought slip away and tried to calm his racing heart.
(the pain was familiar but something he couldn't place. heartache, he would describe it as. pure heartache. but he wasn't in love with anyone)
"Ah, Mr. di Angelo," Chiron greeted. "Sit and listen to Annabeth. She has much to discuss with you."
Achilles-
"I am made of memories"
.
.
.
.
Nico found it hard to look at Chiron or hear him speak, or be around the campers and see their innocence. It was the reason he left Camp Half-Blood, after all. The reason he went looking and searching for an answer he wasn't sure he'd find.
But there were memories, and dreams, and feelings that weren't his. Or, he didn't use to believe they were.
(names were tasted when he woke and he felt heartache for someone he knew was dead)
Nico was a son of Hades. He knew how the Underworld worked, and he knew what he was experiencing and what it could mean. Reincarnation was a popular option for heroes. Hell, his own sister had chosen it. So when he felt with all his heart that the other half of his soul had died before he was born, he accepted this to be true. He didn't try remembering or thinking of names. Didn't want any more memories.
Until his father approached him about the topic.
He wasn't sure what month or season it was, the sun not shining in the land of the dead. Sometimes he wondered how his past self would feel, being reborn just to spend his life in the Underworld. He couldn't feel the sun or the grass or the breeze. If anything, he was dead with the freedom to move wherever he wanted in the Underworld.
That day, he was in Persephone's garden, his eyes closed and his back against the nearest wall. He tried to imagine himself on the surface, in the safety of a garden up there, but something told him he was dead and gone and that going up there would be defying death.
But his heart still beat and his body was alive, blood running through his veins. But he could swear he had died.
"Nico, your father wishes to speak to you."
Nico opened his eyes to find Persephone staring down at him, her emotions still unreadable. She didn't act as she hated him, anymore, but she wasn't the loving mother he was told most mothers were.
(he'd never know)
"The throne room?"
"Where else?"
Nico stood and wiped the dirt from his pants. He didn't want to leave the garden, the small area of life in a place of the dead, but ignoring his father would certainly bring him to his demise.
"Lady Persephone, may I ask you a question?"
Persephone waved her hand, and another flower grew between them. "Hurry, little one. Your father is waiting."
"Do you know anything about my past life?"
He had never seen a goddess pale, nor one look as nervous as she did at that moment.
"I'm sorry?"
"My past life. Do you know who I was?"
Persephone got over herself and laid a hand on his shoulder. "That is just what your father wants to talk to you about, I'm afraid. When he realized you were remembering...he's been proud you were reincarnated as his and not Zeus's, or Poseidon's."
"Proud?"
She nodded.
"Okay. I'll...I'll speak to him."
Patroclus-
"We had been silent. We were fourteen, and these things were too hard for us. Now that we are twenty-seven, they still feel too hard."
.
.
.
.
During the whole meeting, Will stared at Nico for reasons unknown. He had seen the son of Hades before, had watched him raise the dead and burn shrouds. But something about him drew Will in.
Chiron kept looking at him, giving him reassuring looks, but Will didn't understand what Chiron thought was going on. What was actually going on. He didn't understand himself and he didn't understand why Percy was missing.
"I'll go investigating," Nico said as he stood up. "Annabeth, I'll let you know as soon as I know anything."
His hair was dark but oddly familiar. His eyes were battle-scarred but loving. Will wondered if he was the only one that saw that far into him.
"Wait a minute, son of Hades," Chiron spoke. "I need to speak to you. Privately."
Nico shrugged. "I'll be waiting in the lounge."
Then he was gone, walking through the doorway without another word. Will watched him go, wondering why he already missed him so much. And why his heart was hurting worse than usual.
"Will, did he come to you or your siblings with any injuries recently?" Annabeth asked. "Any odd ones?"
Will blinked before turning to her. "No, nothing."
(was what he was feeling close to what Annabeth was going through now? and if it was, who was it for?)
.
.
Will had always been alone growing up. His mother was always on the road and he always with her, at least physically. He had no school, no father, no home. He would say, if anyone asked, that he grew up in Austin, but he didn't really grow up anywhere.
His earliest memory was sitting on the beach, skipping rocks into the ocean. But the memory was fuzzy and his mother wasn't quite right in it. Nor was the ocean anything he had seen before.
But he knew it was his like he knew of his skin, aware of his body and hair as his own and no others.
All memories of his childhood were like this- vague snippets and clips of something that never happened but did. One when he was a little older, standing in a castle surrounded by men. Their voices echoed from the walls and the tall ceiling. A pile of presents sat in the middle of the hall.
The first time Will realized these memories weren't...correct was when he asked his mother about the castle and the pile of presents. She had told him it had been a dream, and when he was older, speculated it may have something to do with his father. But it was a memory, not a prophecy.
It didn't use to bother him as much. But Nico's hair was bothering him, and Chiron had acted like he knew something, so Will went to him about it. They sat on the porch as he explained it, Mr. D half listening and half paying attention to the card game he dealt both of them into.
"And I just...think something's not normal," Will finished. "Something's not normal."
Chiron played his hand without even glancing at the cards. Will wondered how long he had spent playing the game with Mr. D.
"Mr. Solace, have you ever heard of soulmates?" Chiron asked.
Will blinked at the change of subject. "Um, I guess." He paused. "In like sci-fi, movies and books...why?"
"Do you know what the Ancient Greeks thought of them?"
Will shook his head. He could recite the textbooks in the infirmary in an instant, and could even tell you a good deal about some instruments. But nothing in his mind knew about peaceful aspects of Greek mythology. The mind tended to remember negative emotions, threats and grief and how to stop it from happening again. It was a survival instinct.
"I've only read about monsters and gods in Greek mythology," Will explained. "Nothing about that."
"Many demigods are the same," Chiron admitted. "But it's important to our discussion today. The myth says that humans were made with four arms, four legs, and two heads. Zeus split them apart because he feared their power. They then spent the rest of their lives searching for their other half, or their soul mate."
"But I wasn't split when I was born," Will said. "None of this generation was. So why...?"
"I've only met two soulmates once," Chiron stated. "And their names were Achilles and Patroclus."
Achilles-
"Name one hero who was happy."
.
.
.
.
Nico kneeled before his father and felt how wrong it always felt when he did. "You wished to speak to me?"
Hades gestured for him to stand. "You understand why, if I'm correct."
Nico nodded. "My past life. I...am I able to know who I was?"
Hades stood, and as he walked to Nico, he shrunk down to human height. "You, my son, you were one of the greatest heroes of all time. Maybe the greatest. And the Fates gave you to me."
He put his hands on Nico's shoulders. "The Fates had you reborn as a demigod again, this time a son of the Underworld. That was no accident. You were made to be the heir, and you were made to be the ambassador you are for the Romans."
His words were putting Nico on edge, but the idea that he had been a demigod before sparked again. The heartbreak was associated with that life just as the sun gave off light.
"Patroclus," he whispered, sounding out each syllable. "My Patroclus is dead."
Hades rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That is not what this is about, don't focus on your memories of him-"
"He is the only reason I remembered! All I can remember is missing him!"
Hades grew back to the 40-foot god he was and sat back on his throne. Disappointment flashed across his face.
"Nico, you will continue on with your assignments," he ordered. "Do not focus on him. Just focus on how you were the greatest hero that ever lived."
"There's no me without him."
"And yet here you are, alive before me."
"Am I? Why do you think I don't stay at camp, father? Why I never leave this place?"
"Nico, you will do what you need to do to keep the camps apart, and you haven't been doing your job." Hades flicked his hand and shadows started to creep upon him. "Go on, now. You won't be allowed back unless needed."
"You can't kick me out! I...I have nowhere to go, no one to go to! He's dead! He's down here somewhere and I can't leave without him-"
As he was still finishing his sentence he felt the familiar feeling of shadow travel, and before he knew it, he was moving through the shadow realm against his will.
.
.
He seemed to stay in the shadow realm for some time. He tried to will himself back to the Underworld, but something was blocking that door. From there, he wasn't sure where to go. To whom. His love was dead. He had held his corpse.
In the shadows, more concrete memories came rather than the feelings that had been consuming him. He was aware of himself and what had been and who he had lost, and his only goal was to be with him again.
If he had chosen rebirth, Patroclus had to have as well. Maybe he was alive, maybe his father would help him find him if he did well.
Despite it being only a slight possibility, it was enough for him to do what he was told to do, and that landed him at Camp Jupiter.
There was always this feeling he got at Camp Jupiter, like he didn't belong there. He once thought it was this lifetime of being Greek. Now he knew it was two lifetimes of it.
His heart sung for his lost love as he waited for his half-sister to come find him. He knew she wouldn't fill the void, that nobody buthim could, but he had found her months before and had brought her back and had a good feeling of who she could become.
Once, he was a great warrior. Now he worked behind the scenes.
"Hey, I've brought a friend."
Nico turned to greet her but stopped when he laid eyes on Percy Jackson, on the missing son of Poseidon. Suddenly, everything made sense. Suddenly, he knew he was at war again.
Patroclus-
"Those seconds, half seconds, that the line of our gaze connected, were the only moment in my day that I felt anything at all."
.
.
.
.
Will didn't like the way Chiron said the second name. He had heard it better before, a day in the past, but he couldn't remember much else.
He didn't realize what he was doing until he was repeated the first name over and over, "Achilles" dancing on his lips like a mantra, like it would materialize the hero before him. He needed him, he loved him, he was nothing without him.
"William," Chiron placed his hands on Will's shoulders. "Listen to me and focus."
Will couldn't stop. Achilles, Achilles, Achilles. Tears poured from his eyes as emotions took over his body.
.
.
~My father was a king and the son of kings. He was a short man, as most of us were, and built like a bull, all shoulders. He married my mother when she was fourteen and sworn by the priestess to be fruitful. It was a good match: she was an only child, and her father's fortune would go to her husband.
He did not find out until the wedding that she was simple. Her father had been scrupulous about keeping her veiled until the ceremony, and my father had humored him. If she was ugly, there were always slave girls and serving boys. When at last they pulled off the veil, they say my mother smiled. That is how they knew she was quite stupid. Brides did not smile.
When I was delivered, a boy, he plucked me from her arms and handed me to a nurse. In a pity, the midwife gave my mother a pillow to hold instead of me. My mother hugged it. She did not seem to notice a change had been made.~
.
.
When Will woke, his self-awareness had changed. Those parts of him he remembered that didn't make sense, they had grown and expanded into something he couldn't keep down. He knew of the beginning of a life he was sure he wasn't living now, felt sick at the way he and the ones around him once lived, how some people were treated.
"Achilles," he whispered the name to himself again. "Achilles."
It calmed him, in a way. Like speaking the name would heal his heartache. If not, he believed it was a step there.
A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts and made him realize that he wasn't quite sure where he was. It was a bedroom, neat without any personal items, a stray breeze blowing the loose curtains on the window. But nothing about the room scared him. It actually reminded him of a bedroom deep in those memories.
"Come in," he called out.
Chiron opened the door and entered, in his full centaur form. The bed was soft and Chiron was there, and Will almost fell asleep to Achilles' name on his lips when the centaur spoke.
"How are you?"
Will struggled to keep his eyes open. "Drugged."
Chiron crossed to the window and tied the curtains up so the sun was able to shine in. "I imagine it must feel that way, to remember a past life."
"Achilles..." Will whispered. "Do you know where he is?"
Chiron shook his head. "I do not. But I do need to know how much you remember."
"Achilles," Will protested. "I remember that I need him."
"But who you were."
"Achilles, I need Achilles," Will repeated. "Is he alive?"
Chiron frowned. "William. Focus. As of right now, I am unsure of Achilles' whereabouts, nor if he is dead or alive. But you have been reborn and I need to know what you remember."
Will closed his eyes and tried to bite his tongue, but the name kept coming forth like a waterfall.
.
.
~"Patroclus," he says, "Potroclus." Patroclus. Over and over until it is sound only. Somewhere Odysseus is kneeling, urging food and drink. A fierce red rage comes, and he almost kills him there. But he would have to let go of me. He cannot. He holds me so tightly I can feel the faint beat of his chest, like the wings of a moth. An echo, the last bit of spirit still tethered to my body. A torment.~
.
.
When he woke next, things weren't quite as they were before. Things were foggy. He couldn't say Achilles' name.
"William, can you explain to me now what you remember?"
It was Chiron's voice, though it was further off. There was nothing around him, and he could feel the bed beneath him. And the river, gods, he could smell the river. He knew how its cold waters felt and could remember the exact moment it took his memories, but only hid them.
"My father was a king and the son of kings. He was a short man, as most of us were, and built like a bull, all shoulders. He married my mother when she was fourteen and sworn by the priestess to be fruitful. It was a good match: she was an only child, and her father's fortune would go to her husband. He did not find out until the wedding that she was simple. Her father had been scrupulous about keeping her veiled until the ceremony, and my father had humored him. If she was ugly, there were always slave girls and serving boys. When at last they pulled off the veil, they say my mother smiled. That is how they knew she was quite stupid. Brides did not smile. When I was delivered, a boy, he plucked me from her arms and handed me to a nurse. In a pity, the midwife gave my mother a pillow to hold instead of me. My mother hugged it. She did not seem to notice a change had been made."
The river stopped moving, but had receded somewhat. It made his blood pump slower.
"In my memory, I am skipping stones for her, plink, plink, plink, across the skin of the sea. She seems to like the way the ripples look, dispersing back to glass. Or perhaps it is the sea itself she likes. At her temple, a starburst of white gleams like bone, the scar from the time her father hit her with the hilt of a sword. Her toes poke up from the sand where she has buried them, and I am careful not to disturb them as I search for rocks. I choose one and fling it out, glad to be good at this. It is the only memory I have of my mother and so golden that I am almost sure I have made it up. After all, it was unlikely for my father to have allowed us to be alone together, his simple son and simpler wife. And where are we? I do not recognize the beach, the view of coastline."
Will held his hands out and moved them through the water. He could feel he was swimming in memories he couldn't quite place yet.
"I remember embracing a man. I had embraced him, those thin, wiry limbs. I thought, This is what Achilles will feel like when he is old. And then I remembered: he will never be old."
As the words left his mouth, Will felt his heart sink into the waves. Pain, so much pain. He was crying and the waves became his tears and his heart ached for a man that was dead.
Achilles-
"I feel like I could eat the world raw."
.
.
.
.
Nico didn't stay at Camp Jupiter for long, not after he was certain the Doors of Death were open. It was one of the tasks his father had given him when the Underworld started to feel different. If he was to find anything out, he was to report it immediately.
When his father finally let him in so he could, the atmosphere between them had changed again.
"War's among us," Nico said. "Isn't it?"
Hades was in an especially bad mood, but it wasn't directed at his son.
"You are sure that's what the Romans said? What Mars said?"
Nico nodded. "I'm sure."
Hades stood up and began to pace. "They are on a quest to free him?"
"Yeah."
"Then you will go free the Doors of Death."
Nico didn't expect anything else, but he'd destroy the world himself if it meant finding Patroclus again.
"I will after I find him."
"Nico-"
"I need to find him. I need to."
"You won't be able to find him if she wakes," Hades warned. "We must stop her first."
"But-"
"You were made to be the greatest hero to exist, greater than Heracles! You have done more than close those Doors, and you will do it now. If you do, I will assist you in finding him. But I must warn you that it may be against the Fates' design."
"I defined the Fates once," Nico growled, "and I'll do it again. I'll do anything it takes to get to him. Promise on the Styx that you'll help me if I do this."
Hades sat on his throne and let out a low sigh. "You don't trust me? Well, I guess I don't blame you. Fine. I promise on the Styx that after the war, I'll help you find Patroclus."
Nico heard the thunder even down in the Underworld. Somewhere, the river Styx boiled a little.
"I am nothing without him," Nico warned. "And I'll burn the world for him if he asks me to."
.
.
Nico didn't go looking for them immediately. He sent ghosts out to scope the Underworld, try to find that side of the Doors, as he searched the Underworld himself for his lost love.
It hurt- it was pain like he never felt before, excruciating and destroying. Something told him it could kill him. Something told him it was part of the reason he had died before.
Patroclus. He needed him. But he was nowhere in the land of the dead.
When he was sure of this he allowed himself to get ready for what his father wanted him to do. The ghosts were still looking, no sign of the Doors anywhere they could find, and Nico took the time then to obtain some armor and another weapon or two. His stygian iron sword was strapped to his belt, but he also had a stygian iron spear strapped to his back.
The ghosts had looked everywhere in the Underworld and hadn't found them, and it made him want to give up then and there before he realized. There was one place in the Underworld no one had ever gone, mortal or god. Maybe it was payback for defying the Fates. Maybe they wanted him to make history again.
Whatever the case, he found himself staring down into Tartarus that day.
He could almost hear Patroclus's voice telling him not to do it, to go somewhere that meant no harm. Don't jump, just come home. But no home was left for the both of them, and he needed to give Patroclus a world to live in.
So he jumped.
.
.
He knew immediately the Fates weren't behind him. There was a reason no one had been in Tartarus and survived, not even the gods. But he was there, and his love for Patroclus was the only reason why.
Tartarus wasn't just a place, he soon realized. Tartarus was a body, a being, the ultimate jailing location- if you could call it a location. Nico could see it immediately, just like he had seen the bus driver's true appearance on his way to Loftus Hall. The Mist had never really worked on his brain, whether it was because of his past or just how he was born. This, however, was the only time he truly wished it worked on him.
The rivers were veins, even if there weren't many. The Phlegethon was the main blood source, though the blood wasn't anything that could work in a mortal body. It was boiling, was flame. As Nico tasted the fire for the first time, his vision shut off and he saw another sight.
.
.
"There is nothing I can teach you. You know all that Hercules knew, and more. You are the greatest warrior of your generation, and all the generations before."
Achilles felt the heat in his cheeks and was all too aware of how close Patroclus was, even if Chiron's words weren't about him.
"Men will hear of your skill, and they will wish for you to fight their wars," Chiron warned. "What will you answer?"
"I do not know," was all he could say.
.
.
"She cannot see us here."
.
.
The moments after they first acted on their feelings.
"I did not think..." he tried.
"What?" Patroclus asked him.
"I did not think we would ever..."
"I did not think so either."
He watched Patroclus, watched the sweat drip down his neck. "Are you sorry?"
"I am not."
"I am not, either."
.
.
Patroclus and his anxiety, how he worried and worried and worried. " Do you think he will be angry?"
Achilles traced his collarbone in a way he'd never get sick of. "I don't think he will."
"But he might. Surely he must know by now. Should we say something?"
"If you like."
"You don't think he'll be angry?"
"I don't know. Does it matter? I would not stop."
.
.
He'd do anything to get back to Patroclus, even if he had to destroy every last bit of Tartarus.
Patroclus-
"I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me."
.
.
.
.
Percy was still missing and Will was tasked with showing the new kid around. Chiron said it would be good for him, that he needed to heal from his breakdown, that time in the sun would encourage his father to help him heal the self-inflicted wounds- the things hidden beneath the ace bandages around his neck, things he didn't even remember making.
He first saw them when Annabeth crashed the chariot into the lake, destroying it for good. He ran up to the beach with almost every other camper, his bow and quiver still on despite him not being very good at the practice.
"Annabeth!" he called.
"Will, I'm sorry," Annabeth sighed. "I'll get it fixed, I promise."
He couldn't be mad at her, not when she was feeling what he still was. He looked at the new campers, studied each one and knew none of them were his Achilles.
"Any sign of Percy?" he asked.
"No," Annabeth admitted.
He couldn't help but wonder where their missing loves were, or what they were doing, or how alive they really were. Was Achilles rebirthed with him? He had to have been. He never would have agreed to it without Achilles.
Suddenly there was a collective gasp. The campers backed away. Will looked up in hopes he had thought Achilles into reality, but it wasn't so. Floating over Leo's head was a blazing holographic image —a fiery hammer.
"That," Annabeth said, "is claiming."
"What'd I do?" Leo backed toward the lake. Then he glanced up and yelped. "Is my hair on fire?" He ducked, but the symbol followed him, bobbing and weaving so it looked like he was trying to write something in flames with his head.
"This can't be good," Butch muttered. "The curse—"
"Butch, shut up," Annabeth said. "Leo, you've just been claimed—"
"By a god," Jason interrupted. "That's the symbol of Vulcan, isn't it?"
That was the first time Will heard the Roman gods mentioned, but it wouldn't be the last.
.
.
"Do I get a sword?" Leo asked.
Will glanced over at him. "You'll probably make your own, seeing as how you're in Cabin Nine."
"Yeah, what's up with that? Vulcan?"
"Usually we don't call the gods by their Roman names," Will said. "The original names are Greek. Your dad is Hephaestus."
"Festus? Sounds like the god of cowboys."
"He-phaestus," Will corrected. "God of blacksmiths and fire."
"So the flaming hammer over my head," Leo said. "Good thing, or bad thing?"
Will knew it was a change to find out you were a demigod, he did. But he could be spending this time trying to find Percy or Achilles. "You were claimed almost immediately. That's usually good."
.
.
"But that Rainbow Pony dude, Butch—he mentioned a curse."
"Ah … look, it's nothing. Since Cabin Nine's last head counselor died—"
"Died? Like, painfully?"
"I ought to let your bunkmates tell you about it."
"Yeah, where are my home dawgs? Shouldn't their counselor be giving me the VIP tour?"
"He, um, can't. You'll see why."
.
.
"How did he die?" Leo asked. "I mean, Beckendorf."
"Explosion," Will explained. "Beckendorf and Percy Jackson blew up a cruise ship full of monsters. Beckendorf didn't make it out."
"So Beckendorf was pretty popular?" Leo asked. "I mean —before he blew up?"
"He was awesome," Will agreed. "It was hard on the whole camp when he died. Jake—he became head counselor in the middle of the war. Same as I did, actually. Jake did his best, but he never wanted to be leader. He just likes building stuff. Then after the war, things started to go wrong. Cabin Nine's chariots blew up. Their automatons went haywire. Their inventions started to malfunction. It was like a curse, and eventually people started calling it that—the Curse of Cabin Nine. Then Jake had his accident—"
"Which had something to do with the problem he mentioned," Leo guessed.
"They're working on it."
"What about you?" Leo asked. "You get your head almost taken off or something-"
"We're here," Will interrupted. He needed to drop him off. Because for the first time, Chiron was mistaken. The tour had only worsened his condition.
.
.
"Chiron, Achilles-!"
He stopped short in the doorway, frowning at the scene before him. The new girl, Piper, was unconscious on the couch, with Rachel, Annabeth, Chiron, and Jason surrounding her with worried looks. As soon as Chiron heard him he looked up, his expression grim.
"Mr. Solace," he greeted. "Now is not the time to speak of him. We have dangerous acts at work here."
Will hesitated for a second before kneeling beside Piper, grabbing her wrist to feel her heartbeat. "What happened?"
Her pulse was strong despite what they described to him. He still wasn't sure what was going on.
"Not Kronos," Annabeth pleaded. "Please tell me it is not that."
Chiron put a hand on Will's shoulder. "Piper needs her rest. And it is not Kronos. That threat has ended. But..."
"But what?" Annabeth asked.
Chiron closed the medicine bag. "As I said, Piper needs rest. We should discuss this later."
Will stared at the medicine bag and saw it thousands of years ago, but in the same hands. He should have had Chiron teach him more about medicine back then. He should be able to do more than he could.