I slept fitfully that night. Tossing and turning with awful nightmares of Artemis, Lee, and Zoe. I finally settled on a memory.

Its 1753 and I'm 16. Camp Half-blood is really just a collection of cabins and a cleared out field is what would be a training ground. Chiron has just come from England like the rest of us. None of us were born in the colonies. They were too new.

I was wandering through the dusty streets of James town, glancing into shop windows and greeting townspeople. I walk into the general store and am greeted by a plump woman in a blue dress. She has blonde hair twisted back into a frizzy bun.

"'Ello, miss. What are you interested in?" she asks in her London accent. I shook my head. I hid myself in a back corner lit by only a flickering candle. I reach in the pocket of my apron, and pulled out a small shard of glass. I prick the palm of my hand. Blood begins to flow and as it drips on the mirror bit, someone walks toward me. I drop the shard in pocket and hide my hand. I spin to see a boy.

I wasn't so spiteful then.

He was tan and muscled. He was tall and slightly lanky. He had sandy blonde hair with hazel eyes. His loose fitting white shirt was un-tucked. He smiles.

"You lost, miss?" he asks. He glances at the drops of blood on my dress.

"Um, no. Actually, I was just looking for someone just like you." He gave me a puzzled look, but follows me anyway. We wound up on the beach until near dusk. And then I have to leave. Before I go, he stands up.

"I never told you my name,"

"Nor I"

"Yours first." He says, lacing his fingers through mine. His hazel eyes hold my own, never lightening black ones.

"I'm called Massie Harris, but that's not my birth name. My birth name is much stranger and ancient. Demitria Kosmas. Your turn," I say, rushed, in my regal accent.

"Well, I guess what I'm called is the same as my birth name. Nothing special or anything, just, uh, Jonathan Fletcher."

I screamed myself awake. Vivienne was already putting a cool rag on my forehead. I was sweating but freezing at the same time.

"I thought you wouldn't ever wake up. I was going to send in the Apollo boy you hang out with." She said, in her sweet Southern Bell voice.

"How long have I been out?" I gasped, attempting to sit up. I couldn't.

"Nearly four days."

I didn't know what exactly it was then, but I later found out it wasn't just a medical condition, it was grief.