Memory 2: The Boy of the Prophecy
Chiron sighed heavily. "Annabeth, I cannot tell you what troubles the gods. When the
time comes, a hero will be chosen for a quest."
Annabeth stomped her foot in frustration. "Why can't I go now? I'm not too young!" She glared at Chiron, and he shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair.
"Well, now, who would accompany you? Since Luke failed-"
"Luke didn't fail! Hermes was stupid not to trust Luke with a better quest!" Annabeth exploded. The sky rumbled angrily.
"Do not insult the gods. Your time is coming. And this quest… it is too dangerous. What would I tell your father if you didn't return?" Chiron cast a severe look at Annabeth. He clearly wasn't about to budge.
"My dad wouldn't care, either way," she grumbled turning away from Chiron's wheelchair. She sat on the floor and rested her arms on a low windowsill. She looked out of the dusty Big House window, watching the ceiling fan blades spin slowly over the porch.
In truth, she missed her father. She hadn't seen him since she was little, when she ran away and met Luke and Thalia.
Thalia's Pine stood at the top of the valley. Annabeth scowled at it. If Thalia were here, she'd get a quest.
Suddenly, Annabeth shot up. A figure was making its way down the hill, dragging an unmoving heap behind it. Her eyes registered the raven-black hair first. Thalia?
But no, it was a boy, about her age, dragging a satyr. He was calling for someone, but his voice was hardly louder than a hoarse whisper when he collapsed on the steps of the Big House.
"Chiron!" Annabeth shouted, bursting out the front door and onto the porch. She leaned over the boy, and he opened his eyes and peered up at her. Those sea green eyes sent a shock through her, and this time, she was certain.
"Chiron," she breathed. "He's the one. He must be."