Percy

He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to Frank and Hazel yet. Reyna had assured them that Frank wasn't needed for a couple more days and so the remaining members of the seven decided to get away from camp for a couple days. They could all use a break from the rebuilding efforts anyways. Percy had called his mom, and a few hours later, they had spent the day in the city together before heading home to his mom's apartment.

He lay on his back, listening to the soft breathing of his friends. At least he hadn't failed them. He had managed to protect Jason and Piper and Hazel and Frank and dozens of other friends. He had saved them. Stopped Frank from getting stabbed by a cyclopes, kept Jason from being killed by a hellhound, pulled Hazel out from a vortex of mud and had pushed Piper out from the line of enemy fire.

He'd protected his family. He didn't fail them. He didn't. Percy repeated those words in a constant mantra inside his head; desperate to keep a tight hold on his fracturing sanity.

It didn't help that other's hadn't survived. Austin, a son of Apollo had shielded his back from a wave of attacking gryphons and had died of his wounds, Katie Gardner from Cabin four had ben bitten by a basilisk and Mark from the Ares cabin had been killed by cyclopes, along with dozens of others from both camps. It was all he could do to not think about the dead, pale faces, small bodies underneath funeral shrouds. His friends. Gone. But they weren't the worst casualty.

Percy didn't dare close his eyes. He knew as soon as he did, all he would see was her. Her eyes, her hair, the bright smile she had when he did something stupid that made her laugh, her laugh. The dreamy look in her eyes when she talked about architecture. Those were good things. But then he'd see her go over the cliff at Westover hall, see her trapped under the weight of the sky on Mt. Othrys, pale and strained. He'd see her terrified and resigned before they fell into Tartarus together. He'd watch her stumble around too close to the cliff's edge, blind from the arai. He re-live her being attacked and stabbed and poisoned a thousand different times a thousand different ways over the years. And finally he'd be frozen, trapped in the thickening mud as she died in the battle against Gaea. Losing her was like someone had removed the oxygen from the room. Something he knew he needed, but never realized how much until it was gone.

Percy quietly got up. He pulled on a sweatshirt before he made his way to the fire escape. Sliding up the window he stepped outside. The planter filled with moonlace plants glowed brightly in the moonlight. He carefully dug up the original flower from Calypso, whom he had ensured was freed this time in honor of his promise to Leo. He cupped the small plant in his hands as he made his way down to the street. He walked to a small cemetery near his house. At the entrance he fished out a single gold drachma from his pocket.

*"Ο Όλυμπος μου παραχωρεί τη μετάβαση στην Κοιλάδα των Ηρώων." Percy muttered and the gates glowed briefly. Percy stepped through into a beautiful garden.

The Valley of Heroes was a hidden graveyard of fallen demigods, where the souls that had earned Elysium got a small memorial so that for as long at their headstones were visited their spirits would never fade. The only thing uninvited mortals could see were the specific headstones being visited, but not the garden itself. The garden was only for the invited. It was one of the very few godly places that a few select mortals were permitted to enter. In death, and in grief, all were equal.

Scattered beneath the night sky were many intricate marble headstones. Percy made his way to the center, where the newest stones appeared. Walking by he would stop to touch the headstones with names he recognized; Silena Beauregard, Michael Yew, Bianca Di' Angelo and so many more of his friends. Finally he reached one near the very center of the garden, made from white marble, silvery veins running through the smooth white stone. He ran his fingers over the words engraved in both ancient greek and english.

Annabeth Chase

July 12 1993 - August 1 2012

Hero of Olympus

She never took the easy answer, even if it got her in serious trouble

Resting on the tombstone was a replica of her favorite dagger, the Mark of Athena coin and several photographs of her with various camp friends. Percy noticed her father's Harvard ring as well. Her mortal family must have visited the enchanted graveyard recently. Percy dug a small hole in front of the headstone, carefully planting the silver flower. He poured a little nectar over the plant and watched as it perked up, the silver glow casting small shadows on the tombstone. He rested his forehead against the cold marble; allowing the tears he'd held back all day to fall down his cheeks. In the empty cemetery, surrounded by only the dead, the greatest hero of the age finally allowed his defences to fall.

Translation:

*Olympus grant me passage to the Valley of Heroes