Forgotten

~Seven~

I felt someone shaking my shoulders roughly, but I couldn't see them. I couldn't even make out a voice from how numb I felt inside. It all sounded like gibberish as I stared at the blurry form in my vision, where I could clearly see a puddle of red surrounding a fallen body.

No...this couldn't be happening.

Cassy had promised that it would save him.

Or I'm just the biggest idiot on the face of the Earth.

I finally came to my senses when a resounding and stinging slap landed on my cheek. For a second I thought it was Clarisse again, but I quickly saw that it was Annabeth. She appeared as grief-stricken as I felt.

"Get up," she growled, venom lacing in her voice. "Get away from my brother."

I struggled to my feet, my bad knee protesting in utter agony. I still managed to glare at Annabeth, though. She had no idea what I was going through. "He's my brother," I spat back.

Annabeth stopped glaring, instead adopting an expression of complete blankness. "Yet you killed him. You're a monster."

She took her dagger back from Percy's hand, walking briskly towards Grover, who was passed out at the foot of a throne. Percy was still frozen in the room, but it was from shock, not Kronos. He kept glancing between his friends and me, his lips being bitten as he decided where he was going to be.

As for me, I got closer to Luke's burned body, if you could call it that anymore. The blood pooling around him had been from his outermost layer of skin burning off, so all that was left was the tender pink color of his flesh, which was bleeding spottily in some places, while in other parts the flesh was just pitch black. His hair was in patches on his scalp, leaving various bald spots on his head. All that was left of his clothes were his singed jeans, which had burned up until his upper thigh. His entire body was covered in a thin layer of ash and soot, adding more gray to an already ashen body.

Gently, I stroked the side of his face, careful not to touch the humongous burn running from his temple to the tip of his ear. I don't know where people get the saying that people look peaceful at death; Luke just looked dead. His chest was unmoving, and I could feel no heartbeat as I rested my hand against his chest, hoping to feel something, though I knew it was highly unlikely that he'd suddenly wake up.

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled to myself, swallowing painfully as I felt a lump in my throat. Blinking twice, I managed to prevent my tears from spilling over. Not now. Luke didn't need to see me cry, especially not over him. "I should've let Percy give you the damn dagger. Or, I should've been able to figure out how to reverse the curse of Achilles." I cracked a small smile. "Kronos told me, you know? Told me who you saw in the Styx."

For what seemed like an eternity, I was silent, still drawing circles on Luke's slowly paling face, ignoring the feeling of his blood seeping into my clothes. The necklace had burned away when the fire stopped, leaving a huge black outline of a cross branded into the space between Luke's collarbone. I know I'm not deeply religious, but I hope that Luke wouldn't mind.

Gods, why am I thinking about Luke like he was still here? I know he's dead. If I try to convince myself otherwise, I'll still know that I'm lying to myself. Every lie has a sliver of truth to it.

I heard someone clearing their throat, and I instinctively looked up, my body tensing. My nerves were still on edge, and I didn't know if the next person on Olympus would be an enemy or not. When my eyes caught on Hermes, who tried to hide behind a guy that held an uncanny resemblance to Will, I realized that the Olympians had arrived.

Struggling to kneel, I said, "My lords and ladies, we need a shroud. A shroud for...for my brother."

-X-