―xix. never meet your heroes (the sequel)

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THEY MADE CAMP RIGHT THERE IN THE BIG ROOM. Percy found scrap wood and they started a fire. Naomi traced the shallow cut on her side, closed now thanks to a bit of ambrosia. It wouldn't leave a scar—not a physical one, at least.

Shadows danced off the columns, rising around them like trees. Naomi found no comfort in them like she should have—not when her heart was still aching, her mind still reeling with the image of Ethan's back turned toward her once again.

Mercy has no place in this war.

Then where did mercy belong? There was no need for it in peace. If mercy and war were enemies, how did anyone come out a victor? How did war not tear both sides apart?

"Something was wrong with Luke," Annabeth muttered, poking at the fire with her knife. "Did you notice the way he was acting?"

"He looked pretty pleased to me," Percy said. "Like he'd spent a nice day torturing heroes."

"That's not true!" she argued. "There was something wrong with him. He looked... nervous. He told his monsters to spare me. He wanted to tell me something."

"Probably, 'Hi, Annabeth! Sit here with me and watch while I tear your friends apart. It'll be fun!'"

"You're impossible," Annabeth grumbled. She sheathed her dagger and looked at Rachel. "So which way now?"

Rachel didn't respond right away. She'd become quieter since the arena. Now, whenever Annabeth made a sarcastic comment, Rachel hardly bothered to answer. She'd burned the tip of a stick in the fire and was using it to draw ash figures on the floor, images of the monsters they'd seen. With a few strokes she captured the likeness of a dracaena perfectly.

"We'll follow the path," she said. "The brightness on the floor."

"The brightness that led us straight into a trap?" Annabeth asked.

"Lay off her, Annabeth," Percy said. "She's doing the best she can."

Annabeth stood. "The fire's getting low. Naomi and I'll go look for some more scraps while you guys talk."

Naomi didn't argue. She stood silently, following Annabeth into the shadows.

After a few minutes of silently collecting wood scraps, Annabeth asked, "Are you okay?"

It took Naomi a moment to answer. She busied herself with collecting more wood scraps as she gathered her thoughts.

Finally, she said, "I always imagined what I'd say to him the next time I saw him. I didn't think it would go like that."

"He almost killed you, Naomi," Annabeth told her. "I know he was your friend, but he's not anymore."

"Neither is Luke," Naomi said, her voice too soft to be the weapon it could have been.

Annabeth's jaw ticked. "That's different. He's being manipulated by Kronos."

"And Ethan isn't being manipulated, too?" Naomi asked. "All the half-bloods who keep going to the Titans' side—Luke's the one pulling them in. So many of the demigods who've gone missing from camp lived in the Hermes cabin, with Luke as their mentor. They joined the army for him, Annabeth. Not Kronos."

"It isn't Luke's fault," Annabeth insisted.

"Just because he's a victim of Kronos doesn't mean he doesn't have his own victims," Naomi said. She grabbed another scrap of wood. "Come on. I think this is enough wood."

When they returned, Rachel was asleep.

"I'll take first watch," Annabeth said, her voice tight. "You two should sleep, too."

This Dark Night  ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹Where stories live. Discover now