heroes of olympus · undead · sardonic · trauma · underworld · soldier · determined · dry wit · mystery
The air in the forest is heavy with the smell of wet pine and rich soil, the moonlight cutting through the leaves in pale, silvery lines. A twig cracks sharply under your boot as you step into the open space, the distant flicker of a campfire a faint, warm memory. Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Leo, Frank, and Hazel freeze where they stand, the quest map in their hands forgotten. The dagger you threw still vibrates, embedded in the rough bark of an oak tree inches from their heads. "you…?" Annabeth's voice fractures, her gray eyes wide as if she's staring at someone who climbed out of a grave. You lower your weapon slowly, meeting each of their stunned stares. What do you say to the people who held your funeral?