"Estelle..." Sally started.

"No," Estelle interrupted, her voice firm despite the tremor in her heart. "I need to know what happened. Where are Annabeth and Grover? And what about the fight? Did Grandpa P win?"

A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the machines outside. Finally, Paul spoke, his voice laced with a heavy sadness. "We don't know, Estelle. We haven't heard anything yet."

Estelle felt a fresh wave of panic wash over her. Annabeth, the only person who seemed to understand, who had offered a glimpse into this new reality, was gone.

The escape was a blur of adrenaline and defiance. Sally, despite her initial protests, eventually understood the urgency in Estelle's eyes. With Paul acting as a lookout, Sally helped Estelle slip out of the hospital, wrapped in a borrowed coat that hung loosely on her small frame.

The night air was crisp, a stark contrast to the sterile warmth of the hospital room. Disoriented but determined, Estelle focused on putting one foot in front of the other. They navigated the deserted streets, the silence broken only by the rhythmic click of Estelle's sneakers on the pavement.

"Where are we going?" Sally finally asked, her voice laced with worry.

Estelle, fueled by a newfound sense of purpose, pointed towards the woods bordering the town. "Camp Half-Blood. Annabeth said it's on the other side."

Sally hesitated, fear flickering in her eyes. "But Estelle, it's dangerous. And what about the fire? Do you think it's safe?"

Estelle didn't have the answers. The news report echoed in her mind, the image of the burning camp fueling her anxiety. But the thought of Annabeth, alone and possibly injured, spurred her on.

"We have to try," she said, her voice small but resolute. "I can't just leave them there."

They walked for what felt like hours, the dense forest enveloping them in an inky blackness. The only light came from the sliver of moon peeking through the branches, casting an eerie glow on the forest floor. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sent shivers down Estelle's spine.

Suddenly, a low growl erupted from the bushes ahead. A pair of glowing eyes materialized in the darkness, accompanied by a menacing snarl. A monstrous creature, half-eagle, half-lion, emerged from the undergrowth, its claws glinting in the moonlight.

"A griffin!" Sally gasped, fear paralyzing her.

Estelle's heart pounded in her chest, but a surge of unfamiliar courage surged through her. This wasn't a time for fear. She remembered Annabeth's words about monsters and instinctively reached for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. Her hand grasped a small, smooth stone lying on the ground.

The griffin lunged, its fetid breath washing over them. Adrenaline kicked in, and Estelle threw the stone with all her might. It struck the griffin squarely on the forehead, momentarily stunning the creature.

Using the brief window of opportunity, Sally grabbed Estelle's hand and pulled her deeper into the woods. They ran blindly, the griffin's enraged roars echoing behind them. Thorns scratched at their clothes, branches whipped at their faces, but they didn't dare stop.

Just as Estelle's lungs were about to burst, they stumbled upon a clearing. In the distance, a shimmering barrier pulsed with an ethereal light, its edges crackling with golden energy. Camp Half-Blood.

Relief washed over Estelle, so intense it almost brought her to her knees. But before they could reach the border, a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking their path.

"Halt!" a gruff voice boomed. A tall woman, clad in celestial bronze armor, stood before them, her hand resting on the hilt of a short sword. Her face, etched with worry, softened slightly when she saw Estelle.

"Who are you, and why are you trying to enter the camp?" she demanded.

Estelle, her voice hoarse from exertion, blurted out, "I'm Estelle. I need to get in. My name... my dad is Perseus Jackson."

Estelle hesitated, unsure of how to explain Sally's presence. "She's... she's family," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper.

The woman sighed. "This is no place for mortals, especially now. But follow me. We need to get you both to Chiron."

With a wary glance at Sally, Estelle followed the woman, a flicker of hope rekindled within her. Perhaps, just perhaps, she had finally found her way home. As they approached the pulsating barrier, the woman placed her hand on Estelle's shoulder.

"Hold on tight, child," she said. "This might sting a bit."

Estelle braced herself, but the passage through the magical border was surprisingly painless. On the other side, the scene that greeted her was one of chaos and destruction. Buildings lay in smoldering ruins, the stench of smoke hung heavy in the air, and demigods, clad in various forms of armor, clashed with monstrous figures in a desperate battle.

But amidst the carnage, Estelle spotted a familiar figure. Annabeth, her clothes tattered and worn, stood amungst the people.

A surge of protectiveness, fierce and unexpected, flooded Estelle. Ignoring the chaos around her, she ran towards Annabeth, her voice cutting through the din of the battle.

"Annabeth!"

Annabeth, momentarily distracted, turned just as the cyclops swung his club. With a yell of warning, Estelle shoved the injured camper she was helping out of the way. The club slammed into the ground where the camper had been lying just a moment before. Estelle winced, the close call sending a jolt of fear through her.

Annabeth, eyes wide with shock, stared at Estelle. "Estelle? How... how did you?"

Estelle couldn't explain. The power had welled up instinctively, fueled by the adrenaline of the moment. All she knew was that she had to help.

Before they could exchange further words, a monstrous roar shook the ground. Kronos, his form even more imposing than in the clearing, materialized at the heart of the battlefield. He held Poseidon in a headlock, his cruel laughter echoing across the camp.

"Pathetic fool," Kronos boomed, his voice dripping with malice. "You cannot hope to defeat me."

Estelle watched in horror as Poseidon struggled, his trident clattering to the ground. Fear and despair threatened to engulf her. But then, she saw him. Her father.

Percy Jackson, clad in shimmering sea green armor, his face etched with determination, charged towards Kronos. He wielded Riptide, his celestial bronze sword, with unmatched skill, deflecting blows and landing swift attacks.

A fierce battle ensued between father and Titan. The clash of metal reverberated through the air, shaking the very ground they stood on. Estelle watched, mesmerized by the raw power unleashed by both combatants.

Suddenly, a booming voice cut through the din. "Estelle! Come with me!"

It was Chiron, the centaur trainer, his human torso clad in battle armor. He gestured towards the infirmary, a large building on the edge of the camp.

"Your father and the others need you safe," Chiron said, his voice urgent. "The fate of Olympus may depend on it."

Estelle hesitated. A part of her wanted to rush to her father's side, to fight alongside him. But she knew Chiron was right. She was untrained, vulnerable. She needed to find a way to help, but not recklessly.

With a final glance at the battlefield, where her father fought with unwavering courage, Estelle followed Chiron towards the infirmary. Her journey had just begun, and she knew, deep down, that she would find her place in this world. A world where demigods fought for survival, where gods waged war, and where a newfound power pulsed within her, waiting to be unleashed.

The infirmary bustled with activity. Wounded demigods groaned in pain on makeshift beds, treated by the few healers who remained. Estelle sat on a stool, feeling useless and small amidst the chaos. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the image of the battlefield outside, where the clash between gods and Titans continued.

Suddenly, a tremor shook the ground, followed by a deafening roar. Kronos had gained the upper hand, his dark energy overwhelming even Percy's valiant efforts. Despair threatened to consume Estelle, but then, she remembered Chiron's words: "The fate of Olympus may depend on it."

A surge of determination, fiercer than anything she'd ever felt, coursed through her. No, she wouldn't be a helpless bystander. She would fight, somehow, someway.

Focusing all her energy, she visualized the ocean, the vast expanse of water her father controlled. Images of crashing waves and swirling currents flooded her mind. Then, with a desperate cry, she reached out, not with her hands, but with her will.

The air crackled with unseen energy. A wave of pure, shimmering water materialized before her, hovering in defiance of gravity. It pulsed with a power Estelle didn't know she possessed, a power that dwarfed even the nearby healing potions that shimmered with a faint blue light.

The other demigods and healers stared in stunned silence. Estelle herself couldn't explain it. But instinctively, she knew what to do.

With a flick of her wrist, she directed the wave towards the battlefield. It ripped through the air, a giant, translucent blue serpent, faster than any arrow, bypassing the clashing figures and slamming straight into Kronos.

The impact was earth-shattering. Kronos, caught off guard by this unexpected attack, roared in fury. The force of the wave sent him flying back, his dark energy momentarily dispelled.

Percy, seizing the opportunity, lunged forward. Riptide, bathed in the light of the wave Estelle had summoned, found its mark. A blinding flash illuminated the battlefield, followed by a deafening boom. When the light subsided, Kronos lay motionless, his monstrous form dissolving into dust.

A stunned silence descended upon the battlefield. Then, a cheer erupted, a sound that grew into a joyous roar. The demigods, battered and exhausted, had won.

Estelle, drained but exhilarated, watched as the wave she summoned dissipated into a gentle mist. Her legs gave way, and she sank to the floor, her heart pounding in her chest. She had done the impossible.

Percy, his face etched with shock and pride, rushed over to her side. He knelt beside her, his hand warm against hers.

"Estelle," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "you saved us all."

Estelle could only manage a weak smile. Her mind reeled with questions, with the sudden realization of her own immense power. But for now, she allowed herself to bask in the warmth of victory, and the knowledge that she, the daughter of Poseidon, was no ordinary demigod. Her journey had just begun, and with her newfound abilities, she would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her father and the other heroes of Olympus, ready to face any challenge that came their way. Or so she thought.

The cheers for Estelle were deafening, a wave of relief and gratitude washing over the battered demigods. Tears of joy streamed down Annabeth's face as she rushed to her side, enveloping Estelle in a fierce hug. Percy stood by, a mixture of awe and fatherly pride shining in his eyes.

But the celebration was short-lived. A dark, chilling energy pulsed through the air, silencing the cheers. The remaining mist from Estelle's wave swirled and condensed, solidifying into a tall, imposing figure. His black eyes, devoid of any warmth, scanned the scene before settling on Estelle.

"So," the figure boomed, his voice a gravelly rasp, "the prophecy speaks true. The child of Poseidon, not with the sea, but with the power to command it all."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. One word hung heavy, unspoken in the air.

Tartarus.