Back at Camp Half-Blood, things were far from peaceful. While Percy, Clarisse, and Charles were out facing krakens and Sirens in the Sea of Monsters, Annabeth Chase was pacing the length of her cabin, her mind a swirling storm of frustration and jealousy. The quest for the Golden Fleece was still underway, but Annabeth couldn't help the bitter taste in her mouth every time she thought about it. She'd been passed over for this quest, just like she had been for so many others recently, and it stung more than she wanted to admit.
Annabeth wasn't the type to wallow in self-pity—at least, that's what she told herself. But as she stared at the map spread out across her table, the one she'd been obsessively studying for days, she felt a wave of anger that was hard to suppress. She should have been out there with Jackson and the others, using her skills and knowledge to help them navigate the dangers of the Sea of Monsters. Instead, she was stuck at camp, once again sidelined while others took the lead.
And then there were the Elysium Prep students. Just thinking about them made her blood boil. They got to go to that fancy school, learning from the best teachers, getting the best training, while she was stuck here year-round, trying to make do with what she had. It wasn't that Camp Half-Blood wasn't great—it was. But Elysium Prep was on another level, and it was hard not to feel envious of those who got to go there.
Annabeth clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She knew, deep down, that her resentment toward the Elysium Prep students wasn't entirely fair. It wasn't their fault that they had the opportunity to attend the school, and it wasn't their fault that she didn't. But logic had a way of getting drowned out by emotion, and right now, Annabeth's emotions were winning.
After all, demigods who still possess a mortal parent alive, need their permission to go to school. Only orphans get taken in by Elysium Prep. She couldn't stand the idea of asking her father for permission to transfer to Elysium Prep. The thought of going to him, of admitting that she wanted something from him, made her stomach churn. She'd spent so long trying to prove that she didn't need him, that she could make it on her own. Asking for his help now felt like a betrayal of everything she'd fought for.
But the reality was that without his permission, she was stuck. She could never attend Elysium Prep, never experience the benefits of their top-tier training. The frustration gnawed at her, an endless loop of "what ifs" that left her feeling restless and helpless.
Annabeth's mind wandered back to the moment when she'd first learned that she wouldn't be part of the quest for the Golden Fleece. She had seethed. This was supposed to be her chance—her chance to prove that she was more than just the daughter of Athena, more than just another camper. And once again, it had been taken away from her.
She couldn't help but compare herself to the Elysium Prep students. They always seemed so confident, so sure of themselves, like they belonged to some elite club that she would never be part of. Annabeth hated how much that bothered her. She'd spent years building up her reputation at Camp Half-Blood, earning respect and admiration from her fellow campers. But when the Elysium Prep students were around, she felt like she was back at square one, like nothing she'd done mattered.
It didn't help that they were so damn good at everything. Jackson, Torrington, and Nakamura, in particular, had this effortless way of handling themselves in battle, like they'd been born for it. Annabeth knew she was good—she had the training, the experience, the bloodline—but sometimes it felt like she was constantly playing catch-up. Like no matter how hard she worked, she'd always be one step behind.
She hated that feeling. Hated how it made her doubt herself. Hated how it made her jealous of the very people she was supposed to be working with.
Annabeth's pacing grew more frantic, her thoughts spiraling into darker territory. She couldn't stand this—being left behind, being treated like she wasn't good enough. She was a daughter of Athena, for Gods' sake. She was supposed to be the smartest, the best, the one everyone looked to for answers.
And yet, here she was, pacing her cabin while others went off to save the day.
She slammed her hand down on the table, rattling the map and the various trinkets scattered across it. "It's not fair," she muttered to herself, though she knew how childish it sounded. But at that moment, she didn't care. She was angry, and she needed to let it out.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she was stuck here while others got to go on quests. It wasn't fair that she had to deal with the constant comparisons to the Elysium Prep students, who always seemed to have the upper hand. And it definitely wasn't fair that her own pride was holding her back, keeping her from asking her father for the one thing that might change everything.
Annabeth let out a long, frustrated breath, leaning over the table and staring down at the map. The lines and symbols blurred together, her vision clouded by anger and disappointment. She hated feeling this way—hated that her emotions were getting the better of her. But she couldn't help it. The more she thought about it, the more trapped she felt.
Annabeth knew she couldn't keep going like this—angry, frustrated, and stuck in a loop of jealousy and self-doubt. She needed to do something, anything, to break free of it. But what? She couldn't just leave camp and join the quest—that ship had sailed, literally. And she couldn't exactly march up to her father and demand his permission to transfer to Elysium Prep. That would require a level of humility she wasn't sure she was capable of.
But she couldn't just sit here and stew, either. That wasn't who she was. She was a daughter of Athena, and daughters of Athena didn't sit around feeling sorry for themselves. They acted. They figured out a plan and made it happen.
Annabeth took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside her. She didn't have all the answers right now, but she knew one thing: she wasn't going to let this defeat her. She might be stuck at camp, but that didn't mean she was powerless. There were other ways to prove herself, other ways to show everyone—especially herself—that she was just as capable as anyone else.
She straightened up, determination hardening in her chest. She didn't need a quest to prove her worth. She didn't need Elysium Prep to be the best. And she definitely didn't need to let her anger and jealousy control her.
There were other battles to fight, and Annabeth Chase wasn't going to back down from any of them.
With renewed focus, she turned back to the map, her mind already racing with possibilities. There were still threats out there, still problems that needed solving, and Annabeth was ready to tackle them head-on. She might not be on the quest for the Golden Fleece, but she wasn't going to let that stop her from making a difference.
After all, this was her camp. And Annabeth Chase didn't give up that easily.
However, her planning got interrupted when chaos broke out outside her cabin. She didn't notice it at first. The camp was always a little chaotic, with demigods running around, sparring, or trying not to set the place on fire. But then the air changed—an electric charge that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Something was off. Annabeth's instincts, honed by years of surviving in this crazy world, kicked in.
And then she heard it—the distant sound of metal clashing against metal, followed by a chorus of battle cries. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she realized what was happening.
"Attack!" someone screamed from outside.
Annabeth was already on her feet, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife she kept strapped to her belt. She bolted out of the Athena cabin, her mind racing. Camp Half-Blood was under attack. Again. Because, of course, the Fates had decided that she hadn't had enough to deal with lately.
As she sprinted across the camp, Annabeth's eyes darted around, taking in the scene. Monsters—some she recognized, some she didn't—were swarming the camp, their snarling faces twisted with rage as they tore through the demigods' defenses. Campers were fighting back, but it was clear that they were outnumbered and outmatched.
Annabeth's heart pounded in her chest as she realized the severity of the situation. This wasn't just a skirmish—this was an all-out assault. And with so many of the camp's best fighters away on the quest for the Golden Fleece, they were dangerously vulnerable.
Annabeth had barely made it to the clearing when she saw Nakamura and Torrington already in the thick of the fight. Nakamura, with his scarred eye and hardened expression, was swinging his Morningstar with deadly precision, taking down monsters left and right. Torrington, with his wild hair and intense focus, was weaving spells with his spear, his magic crackling in the air as he sent bolts of energy at their enemies.
For a split second, Annabeth felt a stab of envy—how did they always seem to know what to do? But that thought was quickly squashed by the reality of the situation. They were all in this together, and right now, the camp needed every fighter it could get.
"Chase!" Nakamura shouted over the noise, his voice strained but determined. "We need to push them back! They're coming in too fast!"
Annabeth nodded, her mind shifting into strategy mode. This was what she was good at—thinking on her feet, coming up with plans. "We need to bottleneck them!" she yelled back. "If we can funnel them toward the cabins, we can take them down one by one!"
"Too late for that!" Torrington called out, his voice laced with frustration. "They're already inside the camp! We've got to take them out before they spread any further!"
Annabeth gritted her teeth, trying to think of a solution. But the monsters were everywhere, and it was chaos. Her usual strategies, the ones she'd read about and studied, weren't going to work here. Not in this mess.
She was about to bark out another order when a massive dracaena—half-woman, half-serpent, all nightmare—lunged at her, fangs bared. Annabeth barely had time to react, ducking under the creature's swipe and slashing upward with her knife. The dracaena hissed in pain, recoiling, but it wasn't down yet.
Before Annabeth could move in for the kill, Nakamura was there, his Morningstar flashing as he took the dracaena down with a swift, precise strike. Annabeth stared at him, her heart still racing, and for a moment, all she could think was how effortlessly he'd handled the situation.
"You okay?" Nakamura asked, his good eye scanning the area for more threats.
"Yeah," Annabeth replied, her voice a little breathless. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Nakamura said, but there was something in his tone that made Annabeth bristle. It wasn't condescension—Nakamura wasn't like that—but it was the tone of someone who was used to battle, who didn't second-guess himself in a fight. Annabeth hated that it made her feel... less.
She didn't have time to dwell on it, though, because Torrington was suddenly at her side, his spear glowing with energy. "We've got a bigger problem," he said, his voice tight. "The monsters—they're not just attacking randomly. They're targeting specific spots. Someone's leading them."
Annabeth's stomach twisted. That was bad news. If there was a leader behind this, then this wasn't just some opportunistic attack—it was a coordinated assault, designed to hit them where it hurt.
"Where's Chiron?" she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
"Fighting at the front gate," Torrington replied. "He's holding them off, but it's not going to last."
Annabeth's mind raced, trying to piece together a plan. But everything felt jumbled, like she was missing something crucial. She hated this feeling—like she wasn't in control, like she wasn't prepared. She was always prepared.
"Look out!" Nakamura suddenly shouted, shoving Annabeth to the side just as a hellhound lunged at them. Annabeth hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her, but she quickly scrambled to her feet, her knife at the ready. Nakamura was already on the hellhound, his Morningstar swinging through the air with deadly accuracy.
Annabeth watched, her mind still whirling. Nakamura and Torrington were fighting like they'd done this a thousand times before, like they knew exactly what to do in every situation. And here she was, the daughter of Athena, struggling to keep up.
As the battle raged on, Annabeth found herself relying more and more on the instincts she'd developed over years of training rather than the strategies she'd memorized from books. And that was when she started to realize something—something that had been nagging at the back of her mind for a while now.
There was a difference between being book smart and being wise. Annabeth had always prided herself on her intelligence, on knowing the ins and outs of battle strategy, on memorizing every tactic and maneuver she could find. But out here, in the thick of the fight, that knowledge wasn't always enough.
Experience fueled wisdom. It wasn't just about knowing what to do—it was about having the experience of knowing when to do it, and how to adapt when things didn't go according to plan. Nakamura and Torrington had that experience. They'd fought in battles, been through countless life-or-death situations during their quest, and it showed. They didn't hesitate, didn't second-guess themselves. They just acted.
And as much as it stung to admit it, Annabeth realized that was something she still needed to learn.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud, furious roar that shook the ground beneath them. Annabeth whipped around just in time to see a massive, lumbering creature—some kind of ancient cyclops—charging toward the camp's main gate. Chiron was there, fighting valiantly, but the cyclops was too strong, too big.
"We have to help him!" Annabeth shouted, her mind already racing with ideas.
But before they could move, a dark shadow passed over them, and the temperature dropped several degrees. Annabeth's breath caught in her throat as a figure in black armor, wreathed in shadows, appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Di Angelo!" Annabeth gasped, relief flooding through her. Nico di Angelo, the Ghost King himself, had arrived.
Nico didn't waste any time. He raised his hand, and the shadows around him coalesced into a massive, swirling vortex. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the shadows hurtling toward the cyclops, wrapping around it like chains. The creature roared in fury, but it couldn't break free.
"Go!" Nico shouted to them, his voice carrying an authority that made Annabeth's heart skip a beat. "I'll hold it off! You need to clear the rest of the camp!"
Annabeth didn't need to be told twice. With Nico handling the cyclops, she, Ethan, and Alabaster focused on driving the remaining monsters out of the camp. It was tough going—the monsters were fierce, and they fought with a ferocity that made Annabeth's blood run cold—but slowly, they began to push them back.
It wasn't easy. Annabeth took more hits than she cared to admit, and there were moments when she wondered if they were going to make it. But Ethan and Alabaster were relentless, and Nico's presence gave them the edge they needed.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the last of the monsters were driven out, retreating back into the woods with a chorus of howls and roars. The camp was a wreck, but it was still standing. And for now, that was enough.
Annabeth leaned heavily against a tree, her chest heaving with exhaustion. She looked around at the destruction—the torn-up ground, the broken weapons, the scorch marks from Alabaster's spells—and felt a strange mix of pride and frustration.
They'd won, but it had been close. Too close.
Ethan walked over, wiping monster blood off his sword with a rag. "You did good, Chase," he said, his tone surprisingly sincere.
Annabeth managed a tired smile. "So did you. Both of you."
Alabaster, who was leaning on his staff, nodded in agreement. "We couldn't have done it without you. That plan to funnel the monsters toward the cabins? It worked. And you held your own out there."
Annabeth's smile faded as she looked down at her hands, still trembling from the adrenaline. "Yeah, but… I don't know. It felt like I was always a step behind. Like I wasn't thinking fast enough."
"You weren't thinking," Ethan corrected, and for once, there was no edge in his voice. "You were reacting. That's what we had to do. Out there, it's not about having the perfect plan. It's about doing what you need to do to survive."
Annabeth nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling on her. Experience. Wisdom. That's what she'd been missing. She could memorize every battle tactic in the world, but without the experience to back it up, it was just knowledge. And knowledge wasn't the same as wisdom.
Nico approached them, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Camp's secure. For now," he said, his voice quiet. "We'll need to reinforce the barriers. They'll be back."
Annabeth looked up at him, her respect for the younger demigod growing. Nico had saved them. He'd shown up when they needed him most, and he'd fought with a skill and confidence that belied his age. "Thanks, Nico," she said, her voice sincere.
"Just doing my part. I'm glad I made it in time, I feel no death from our side." Nico shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. Annabeth was glad, she might find children of Ares annoying, but she grew up alongside Mark and Ellis and their loss had hurt her. "I'll stick around and have Papa funnel more zombies to the camp to help with the reconstruction, by the end of the summer it should be as good as new."
As the four of them stood there, catching their breath and taking in the aftermath, Annabeth felt a shift inside her. She still had a lot to learn—about fighting, about strategy, about herself. This was just one battle in a long war, and she was determined to come out stronger on the other side.
And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to stop comparing herself to everyone else. After all, they were all in this together. And if today had proven anything, it was that they were stronger together than they could ever be alone.
The dust had barely settled when Annabeth felt the weight of the day's events crashing down on her. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion that made her want to collapse right where she stood. But she couldn't—not yet. There was something she needed to do first.
As Nico gave orders to the remaining campers to secure the perimeter and start rounding up the injured demigods, Annabeth made her way over to him. Nico was in his element, commanding mortals like the king he is. Even though he looked as tired as she felt, there was an air of calm about him, like he'd been through this kind of chaos a thousand times before.
"Nico," Annabeth called out, trying to ignore how her voice wavered slightly. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"
Nico glanced up, his dark eyes meeting hers. For a moment, she wondered if he'd brush her off—Nico wasn't exactly the chatty type with those he was not familiar with, especially after a battle. But instead, he gave a small nod and walked over to her, his black boots crunching against the debris-strewn ground.
"What's up?" Nico asked, his tone as guarded as ever.
Annabeth hesitated, trying to find the right words. She'd spent so much time wrapped up in her own frustrations, her own insecurities, that she wasn't sure how to explain what she was feeling. But after everything that had happened, she knew she needed to address it. Not just for herself, but for the other kids in her cabin—the ones who'd been watching her, learning from her.
"I, uh…" Annabeth started, her brain short-circuiting for a moment. "I was wondering if you could help me out with something. It's about your… spirit entourage."
Nico raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "You mean my guardian ghosts? What about them?"
Annabeth shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of what she was about to ask. "There's one in particular—Albert, I think his name is. He was, uh, he gave my cabin a lesson once. On hubris. He said it's what got him killed."
Nico's expression softened just a fraction. "Yeah, Albert. He was a son of Athena, whose hubris got him lured into a trap by the Triarchy and got him killed."
Annabeth nodded, the memory of Albert's lesson still fresh in her mind. He'd appeared in the middle of their cabin one night, unannounced, and proceeded to give them a lecture that had left the normally unshakable children of Athena squirming in their seats. Albert had spoken of how his arrogance, his belief that he couldn't be beaten, had led to his downfall. He'd been so sure of his strategy, so convinced of his superiority, that he'd ignored the signs of danger until it was too late.
"I think…" Annabeth hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I think my cabin could use a reminder of that lesson. I could, too, if I'm being honest."
Nico studied her for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Annabeth had always found it difficult to know what Nico was thinking—he was like a locked chest, his emotions buried deep beneath layers of shadow. But she'd learned over time that Nico wasn't as closed off as he seemed. He was just careful, guarded, like someone who had learned to only open to those who had earned his trust.
"You sure about that?" Nico asked, his voice quiet but firm. "Albert doesn't pull punches. If you ask him to talk to your cabin again, he's going to be blunt. Maybe more than you're ready for."
Annabeth forced a smile, though it felt a little shaky. "I think that's exactly what we need. We've been so focused on being the smartest, the best, that we've forgotten the other side of it. We need to remember that knowledge isn't the same as wisdom."
Nico nodded slowly, as if weighing her words. "Okay," he said finally. "I'll talk to Albert, see if he's up for it. But I'm warning you, he's not going to sugarcoat anything."
"I don't want him to," Annabeth replied, her voice firmer now. "It's time we faced the truth about ourselves. About our weaknesses. We've been coasting on the belief that we're untouchable because we're Athena's kids. But today showed me how wrong that is."
Nico's expression softened just a bit more, and he gave her a small, almost approving nod. "I'll bring him by tonight. Just… be ready. Albert has a way of getting under your skin."
Annabeth managed a half-smile. "Good. That's exactly what we need."
As Nico turned to walk away, Annabeth let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It wasn't easy to admit that she needed help, or that she wasn't as infallible as she'd always tried to be. But after the battle, after seeing how easily she could have lost everything, she knew it was time to face those hard truths.
Later that evening, after the camp had settled into an uneasy quiet, Nico appeared at the door of the Athena cabin. He didn't come inside—he just knocked, then stepped back to allow the ghost beside him to enter. Annabeth recognized Albert immediately, his ghostly form as imposing as ever, though there was a hint of weariness in his old eyes.
The other kids in the cabin, who had been lounging around or preparing for bed, quickly straightened up when they saw the spirit enter. They all remembered Albert from his last visit and judging by the way their expressions shifted from boredom to nervous anticipation, they knew what was coming.
Albert wasted no time. "So," he began, his voice echoing through the cabin like the toll of a bell, "you want another lesson in hubris, do you?"
Annabeth stood at the front of the room, trying to maintain her composure as Albert's piercing gaze swept over the group. "We do," she said, her voice steady. "We need to understand what we're missing."
Albert's ghostly eyes settled on her, and for a moment, she felt as though he could see right through her, down to the very core of her being. It was unsettling, but she held her ground.
"Hubris," Albert began, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom and experience, "is the belief that you are above failure, that your knowledge and abilities make you untouchable. It is a poison, a slow rot that seeps into your mind and makes you believe you are invincible. I've seen it in countless warriors, generals, and yes, even scholars. And it always leads to the same end—destruction."
He started pacing slowly, his transparent form flickering slightly as he moved. "Arrogance cost me everything. All because I was too proud to see my own flaws."
The room was silent, the weight of Albert's words hanging heavily in the air. Annabeth could see the impact it was having on her half-siblings—the way their eyes were downcast, the way they shifted uncomfortably as they took in his lesson. She felt it too, the sting of recognition. How many times had she dismissed others' ideas because she thought she knew better? How often had she charged ahead, confident in her plans, only to realize too late that she hadn't considered all the angles?
"You," Albert said, his gaze locking onto one of the younger campers, "what do you think makes you better than your enemies?"
The girl, barely twelve years old, stammered, "I—I don't know. I just thought that… because we're Athena's children, we're supposed to be smarter. That we're supposed to have the best strategies."
Albert's expression softened slightly, but his tone remained firm. "Being smart isn't enough. You can have all the knowledge in the world, but if you lack the wisdom to apply it, it will do you no good. Wisdom comes from experience, from knowing your limits, from understanding that you don't have all the answers. That's what our mother truly values—not just intelligence, but the wisdom to use it wisely."
Annabeth felt a lump form in her throat. She had always prided herself on being the smartest, the most strategic, the one with all the answers. But now, hearing Albert's words, she realized just how much she still had to learn. Intelligence was important, yes, but wisdom… wisdom was what separated the great from the truly exceptional.
Albert continued his lecture, his voice weaving tales of warriors and scholars who had fallen victim to their own pride, who had thought themselves untouchable only to be brought low by their own hubris. Annabeth listened intently, absorbing every word, every lesson. She could see the same determination in her cabinmates' eyes, the same desire to learn, to grow.
When Albert finally finished, the cabin was silent for a long moment. The spirit's form seemed to shimmer slightly, as if the effort of reliving his past had taken a toll on him. But there was a sense of calm about him now, as if he'd said what needed to be said.
"Remember this," Albert said quietly, his voice softer now. "Knowledge is a tool, but wisdom is a weapon. Use them both, and you'll be unstoppable. Forget one, and you'll be lost."
With that, he turned and glided out of the cabin, leaving the demigods to sit in the heavy silence of his words. Nico, who had been watching from the doorway, gave Annabeth a small nod before following Albert out.
Annabeth stood there for a moment, letting everything sink in. Then she turned to face her cabinmates, who were all looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something profound. But for once, Annabeth didn't feel the need to say anything grand or clever. Instead, she just smiled, a small, genuine smile, and said, "Let's make sure we remember this, okay?"
There was a murmur of agreement, and Annabeth felt a sense of solidarity in the room, a shared understanding that they were all in this together. They weren't perfect—they had a lot to learn, a lot to improve—but they were willing to do the work. And that was what mattered.