Sally's POV

When will my poor baby get a break? First, he has to save the world from the Titans, then from Gaea, and now this?

Poseidon claims he loves our son, but I'm about ready to call his bluff. He wouldn't have allowed this to go so far. Would he?

I have been watching the whole tournament and many times I have been brought to tears. Over the years I have met some of these heroes, heard stories about their bravery. Now almost all of them were dead. Percy and Annabeth were hanging in there though.

I was holding Estelle in my arms when she started to cry. I decided to put her down for a nap, so I climbed the stairs to the nursery.

I was humming a lullaby and I had just laid her down in her crib when Paul started yelling. "No! No no no no no! Sally!"

I ran down the stairs just in time to see a girl pull a knife out of my son's back. He had been kissing Annabeth, but now slumped against her. I screamed.

Paul came and led me to the couch, where he held me in a tight hug, kissing me gently. Leo was there. So was Clarisse and Frank. But I wasn't paying attention to them. All eyes were on my son.

The screen zoomed in, the invisible microphones trying to pick up his last words. I choked on a sob. He should at least have some dignity as he lay dying.

What he said next broke my heart. "You-you gotta-gotta tell my mom." I sobbed until my throat hurt. I hit Paul in the chest as he struggled to hold me. My son. My baby. My hero. Was gone.

I screamed and cursed the gods. I screamed and cried and wailed and I almost missed what came next.

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Leo's POV

I really hate that Nemisis kid. He couldn't let us grieve for twenty minutes. He couldn't let Annabeth grieve.

He came at us with those horrible throwing knives, knives that have already killed so many. First, he threw one at Annabeth when she had her back turned.

That was low. Only a coward would attack someone when their back was turned. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to catch the blade. She dropped it in disgust and stood after kissing Percy on the forehead.

Her glare was unwavering as she faced Damien. Doubt flashed in his eyes. I couldn't blame him. Annabeth was scary when she was mad, and she was mad now.

Mad doesn't even begin to cover it. She was absolutely furious. She grabbed her dagger from Katie's limp hand and charged him, seething. He yelped in surprise and barely managed to block her strike.

She fought viscously and mercilessly, like a demon straight out of hell. They went on for a little while longer, Annabeth obviously winning. After a pause, Damien took a deep breath and charged with renewed strength.

Annabeth was now the one struggling for ground. I guess her guard was down or something, she wasn't in her right mind after Percy died.

Damien got in a lucky shot. He stuck his knife under her rib cage. She slashed angrily at his face before she fell. He screamed in agony, his right eye ruined.

The cannon boomed again and I knew Annabeth was dead. At that point, I was seeing red. Maybe it was because flames danced in front of my eyes. Or maybe because I was just plain mad.

I released a wall of fire that consumed everything in its path. I didn't mean it, but it swallowed the bodies of Percy and Annabeth.

Damien's screams will forever haunt me. And then a new scream reached my ears. Frank was holding in his hands the charred stick that his life depended on.

I suddenly remembered something Mars said. Something about only being allowed one magical item. He picked his bow. That means no magic fire wood pouch. Uh-oh.

He looked at the burning stick in his hands in terror. A fire danced on the tip, quickly burning the stick to oblivion. A fire that I started. I killed my best friend.

Frank fell to the ground when the stick met it's end. Two cannons boomed to signify the deaths of Damien and Frank. I fell to my knees, the fire within me diminishing.

Tears and smoke stung my eyes. This feels familiar. Why is it that I always start the fire that kills my loved ones? Why?

That's when I noticed something. There were only two tributes left in the arena. I never would've guessed that I would be one of the last survivors. I never would of guessed that I actually had a shot of winning.

But looking at Clarisse and looking at the last of my friends, charred and burned, I knew I didn't want it.

I didn't want to win. Not after what I've done.

I looked at Clarisse again. She'd done nothing wrong, she was one of the few that made it through the whole games without killing anyone. She deserves this more than I do.

Maybe I'll see my mother. You never know.

"So...,"Clarisse started, "What now?"

"You can have it." I said.

"What? No! That's ridiculous. I'm not going to kill you. Not to win some stupid game."

"You won't have to." I said. I lit my self on fire, this time allowing myself to burn.

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And we have a victor! How was that? The story is, unfortunately, coming to an end soon. I will add a couple more chapters though, so don't worry. I hope you enjoyed this story because I sure did. Remember to comment and vote on the chapter! Thanks:)