The Silver Ring (PJO)

Chapter 7

As it turned out, I did find a distraction that solved my problem.

Temporarily.

It all started with the goal of teaching a class.

After promising Thalia to keep in touch (the hunters were planning to stay for a few days, or even a few weeks), we walked out of my cabin, splitting up and going about our day. For me, that meant hurrying to the sword fighting arena while Thalia calmly walked into the Artemis cabin.

The class that I "taught" was very unique. The usual classes at camp consisted of a set time every day, and usually had the same students in them. For my class, however, that wasn't the case.

Basically, if there were people there when I was there, they would be taught, no matter if it was their first time or they were a veteran. It was a very simple system that not even a stupid person could mess up.

So I messed it up. A lot.

I passed all the cabins, being careful to avoid any hunters. There were many couples eating, dancing, and even practicing their powers on one another. Normally, this would be a happy scene, since most demigods usually didn't get good lives.

But when I saw this, I had to resist with all my willpower to not fall down and start crying. 

I walked past them quickly, taking deep breaths in and out. Calm down. You don't want them to see their leader looking weak, don't you?

That just made my body desire to go deep into the woods and cry in there.

While I was grappling for control, the logical part of my mind (I know, it's surprising that I have one) started analyzing the sore subject of Annabeth. 

Why had she done this? I couldn't think of anything that I did wrong. It had only been one month since we last met. It wasn't very ideal, but I got used to it. 

After the war with Gaea, Annabeth had also become the permanent architect of Olympus. With that job (and also juggling her domains efficiently), she was working around the clock, with no time to spare. After a month of this, Annabeth got sick of it and asked her mother to give her one day to herself every month, and Athena was a bit reluctant. It wasn't because she would lose her best architect and favorite daughter for a day—Athena knew she deserved it—but it was actually because she knew that it would be a day spent with me. Affection won over reputation and hate, and Annabeth was allowed to meet me every month.

If I was being honest, Annabeth had been a bit distant the last time I saw her, but I just thought that she was thinking of a new design for something. I had loved and trusted her too much to question her, thinking that if it was something I needed to know, she would tell me . . . 

And look how it turned out.

But how was she recruited into the hunters? Artemis only allowed mortals to join, but maybe she changed it, just for Annabeth.

Lucky me.

While I was ruminating about this, I was subconsciously walking towards the arena. I dodged trees and people, and jumped over the occasional log. I had gone on the path to the arena hundreds—maybe even thousands of times, and it was now muscle memory.

As I rounded the final obstacles, the arena was in sight. To my surprise, there were about sixty people there. Most of them were fighting each other, or beating up the defenseless dummies, while fifteen of them were sitting on the sidelines, watching. I recognized almost all of the people sparring from past battles.

When I saw a thirteen-year-old black-haired girl on the sidelines, my pace quickened and a smile grew on my face.

When I was within earshot, I yelled out, "Amelia!"

The black-haired girl turned around quickly, as though she was worried somebody was going to attack her—something that you learn quickly is a big possibility as a demigod. When she saw me, her face split into a wide grin, and she ran towards me. 

I stopped, knowing what was going to happen. A second after I braced for impact, a black blur slammed into me, making me stumble and almost fall down. "Percy!" she said, sounding very happy. Her voice was muffled, since her face was buried in her shirt.

Amelia was a favorite student of mine. (Yes, I had favorites.) She was bright, effervescent, and cheerful. We had met two months ago, when she'd wandered into the sword-fighting arena. She instantly accosted me. Ever since then, we had a brother-sister relationship. In that amount of time, I had learnt that Amelia was a daughter of Ceres (Greeks and Romans could choose to be either at Camp Half-Blood or Jupiter) who was ironically afraid of plants. I'd helped her with her powers, and somewhat succeeded in making her a bit more comfortably with plants.

"Hello," I said, smiling down at her. Amelia let me go and stepped back, giving me a smile so bright that it contested the sun. "What have you been doing recently?"

That broke the dam. "I learnt how to make plants die!" she exclaimed. She said it the way a kindergartener would talk about a new friend, and it was kind of disconcerting.

I looked down at her sternly. "Just because you're scared of plants doesn't mean you can kill them."

"There's nothing stopping me, is there?" Amelia said cheekily.

"Firstly, plants are doing nothing to harm you. I get that they might scare you, but at the end they're . . . ," I trailed off, thinking of something. "Do you know what dryads are?"

"Should I?"

"Not necessarily, but let me show you. They'll probably change your mind."

I grabbed Amelia's hand and I started walking out of the arena, into the deep woods, thinking deeply. I was brought out of my thoughts when Amelia tugged on my hand. 

I raised my eyebrows. "Yes?"

Amelia had a nervous look on her face. "If we're going into . . . there"—she spit the word out with distaste as though she was talking about something else, like garbage—"Can you please carry me?" She showed me an adorable face that I doubted that even Ares, the god of disappointment, couldn't say no to.

"Sure!" I said enthusiastically, happy that she was facing her fears. I picked her up—piggy-back style—and started walking again, the chipper thirteen-year-old making me forget about the tragedy of my life, and the class that I was about to teach.

Little did I know that simple trip would change my life forever.

And not in the good way.