JAWBREAKER

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣

There were too many good-byes.

Warren had never seen so many burial shrouds, and it's not something she ever wanted to see again. She was one of the lucky ones. All of her brothers and sisters had survived, badly fractured and heavily concussed, but alive. And for that she would be forever grateful. Still, it was a grim night.

Among the dead, Lee Fletcher from the Apollo cabin had been downed by a giant's club. He was wrapped in a golden shroud without any decoration.

The son of Dionysus who'd gone down fighting an enemy half-blood was wrapped in a deep purple shroud embroidered with grapevines. His name was Castor and he'd been seventeen years old. Warren regretted not talking to him more, he was always so nice.

His twin brother, Pollux, tried to say a few words, but he choked up and just took the torch. He lit the funeral pyre in the middle of the amphitheater, and within seconds the row of shrouds was engulfed in fire, sending smoke and sparks up to the stars.

They spent the next day treating the wounded, which was almost everybody. The satyrs and dryads worked to repair the damage to the woods.

At noon, the Council of Cloven Elders held an emergency meeting in their sacred grove. The three senior satyrs were there, along with Chiron, who was in wheelchair form. His broken horse leg was still mending, so he would be confined to the chair for a few months, until the leg was strong enough to take his weight.

The grove was filled with satyrs and dryads and naiads up from the water— hundreds of them, anxious to hear what would happen. Juniper stood by Grover's side, along with Warren, Annabeth, and Percy.

Silenus wanted to exile Grover immediately, but Chiron persuaded him to at least hear evidence first, so they told everyone what had happened in the crystal cavern, and what Pan had said. Then several eyewitnesses from the battle described the weird sound Grover had made, which drove the Titan's army back underground.

"It was panic," insisted Juniper. "Grover summoned the power of the wild god."

"Panic?" Percy asked.

"Percy," Chiron explained, "during the first war of the gods and the Titans, Lord Pan let forth a horrible cry that scared away the enemy armies. It is— it was his greatest power, a massive wave of fear that helped the gods win the day. The word panic is named after Pan, you see. And Grover used that power, calling it forth from within himself."

"Preposterous!" Silenus bellowed. "Sacrilege! Perhaps the wild god favored us with a blessing. Or perhaps Grover's music was so awful it scared the enemy away!"

"That wasn't it, sir," Grover said. He sounded a lot calmer than Warren would have if she'd been insulted like that. "He let his spirit pass into all of us. We must act. Each of us must work to renew the wild, to protect what's left of it. We must spread the word. Pan is dead. There is no one but us."