The last thing Percy remembered before he saw stars was the spear of Picolous through his gut, then the last surviving Gigas of the Second Gigantomachy falling to the trident of an enraged Kymopoleia, who then bent over him worriedly.
And then fourteen flashes of light.
And then he woke up.
"Greetings, Hero."
And then he saw the familiar face of Zoë Nightshade.
"What the—where are we?"
"Welcome to the stars."
She looked different, now, more like she had when she was a hesperide. Slightly older, mayhaps, but not altogether different.
"This is yours, right?" He said, taking out the riptide and giving it to her.
"Nay, Perseus. But I give thee my thanks regardless," she said, cracking a smile.
She seemed…nicer. Softer.
Then he realized.
"I'm in the stars."
She nodded.
"So…Nemean Lion, Draco, Scorpio, Orion… are they here?"
"No, it seems not. At least, not the last two."
"Oh thank the…Primordials? Hmm."
She smiled again, holding out a hand.
"Thou art still on the ground, Perseus.
He realized he was lying against a tree stump.
"Will I ever get to see them again? Kymopoleia, or Thalia, or even Annabeth."
"The daughter of Athena? Why is she 'or even?'"
He flushed. "We..took a break."
"I see. Thou canst watch thy friends. Thou hast only to think."
"What now, Zoë?"
"We hunt," she said, and just then he realized exactly what she looked like.
She looked gorgeous under the rising dawn, her dark hair contrasting with the endless expanse of multicolored paradise.
Sparkling waters met sedimentary rocks gleaming with different hues, shades of sandstone with purple-blue skies and dark trees to the west, little bubbling brooks and white lilies to the east under the sunrise.
The stars were seen in the sky no matter the time of day.
Her black eyes were the polar opposite of the bright morning sun behind her.
Her bow was in her back.
"Thou hath aged back, it seems," she said.
He realized she spoke the truth as he looked in his reflection.
"I have," he said, seeing himself about the same age she now was—sixteen or seventeen.
He brought riptide to his arm and reopened a scar.
He bled gold.
"Immortalized, in a way," she said, sitting next to him, closer than he expected.
"Golden blood…could we be visited anytime?"
"By the gods, perhaps. Lady Artemis visited once. Those from the Elysian Fields can visit, but it is a one way street. I met a fallen sister of mine, once, but only then."
"Who…who oversees us?"
"Astraeus," she replied, "once it was Krios, but now Astraeus and Thanatos alone. Not even Hermes dares come here for fear of inviting the fury of Lord Zeus."
He got up.
"Well, as you said, let us hunt."
"I hope you would say that."
They hunted together, laughed together.
They grew closer.
The Huntress ran across the sky, but, by no will of the gods, the Destroyer ran with her.
Seven days on earth later, but both an eternity and an hour later for Perseus, he found another old friend.
"Boss! Where are we? And the dead mean huntress lady that I like? And you're young?"
Blackjack the Pegasus galloped across the sky with the Huntress and the Destroyer on his back.
That marked the Winter Solstice.
They did it every year.
He left—he had heard of other horses there, a race gifted to Astraeus by Poseidon.
He met Astraea, or Virgo, and Calliope. He met Draco—the old dragon left quite the impression.
All he did, he did with Zoë. Even Artemis could not separate them.
He received a visit from Charles Beckendorf.
One day, he found a river.
He told Zoë, who happily followed him to it. They walked down into it together.
The Son of Poseidon and the Daughter of Pleione.
And they disappeared under the Riptide, when they passed the delta.
When they came out, Astraeus told them Olympus summoned them.
They saw the gods.
They saw the demigods.
They weren't corporeal and only each other could touch each other.
They capitalized on that.
She kissed him once among the stars.
And they disappeared under the Riptide, to the sound of the Crashing Quiet, the Mute Roar, the Thundering Silence.
And so they did every year.
Beckendorf continued to visit.
One day, Kymopoleia did.
She brought Annabeth Chase.
A goddess.
They said their goodbyes; got their closure.
And that night, the Huntress gleamed, the Moon did not wane, and the Destroyer shone like the sun itself.
