Chapter Thirty-Two:
The Hymns of the Knowing.
— Darling, don't you stand there
watching, won't you come and
save me from it ?

The journey included self discovery.

Surprisingly enough, despite all the life threatening trials and tribulations of quests to save the world, there was still time for Percy Jackson to learn about himself. He'd finally found something he was really good at. The Queen Anne's Revenge responded to his every command. He knew which ropes to hoist, which sails to raise, which direction to steer. The trio even plowed through waves at, what he knew was, ten knots. He even understood how fast that really was. For a sailing ship, it was pretty fucking fast. It felt perfect for a moment in time — the wind in his face, the waves breaking over the prow, and the two girls he trusted the most in the world (after his mother) were by his side. It was the freedom and lack of danger that made him remember how much he missed Tyson, and how worried he was for Grover. Though the events that occurred before the trio were steady sailing clouded his mind. He'd messed up, bad. And he wasn't ashamed to admit it, he was just worried — overthinking his credibility in terms of saving his camp, and his best friend, and — potentially — Olympus if the prophecy was his.

If it hadn't been for Annabeth and Colette, he'd still be a rodent, hiding in a hutch with a bunch of cute, furry pirates. He thought about what Circe had said: See, Percy? You've unlocked your true self! He still felt changed. Not just because he had the sudden desire to consume more lettuce than usual, but because he felt skittish — like the instinct to be a scared animal had become part of him. Or maybe it'd always been there. That was what worried him the most after the transformation.

The trio sailed through the night.

Annabeth tried to stay and help Percy keep lookout, but sailing didn't agree with her. After a few hours of rocking back and forth, her face was paler and tinged with the slightest green hue. She went below to lie on a hammock.

Colette stayed.

They were sitting, shoulders side-by-side as the boat rocked.

Percy felt his chest tighten for a second. It was after he'd taken a quick glance at her. (He knew he wasn't always the smartest, but when it came to Annabeth and Colette, he understood them quicker than he'd like to admit.) Colette's eyes had been trained forward, focusing on the horizon and nothing else. That shattered look that he'd seen a few times had returned, more damaged than it'd previously been.

The shade of deep blue was cracked through, shades of gray creating each splinter.

The red tint around their sclera, and the building moisture along her waterline gave away her true feelings in that moment.

Her despair caused his eyebrows to crease sympathetically.

He looked back down at his hands, slowly moving one closer to one of hers. It took a lot of courage from him, but he interlocked his little finger with hers. He gave a tentative, reassuring squeeze to hers. And when his eyes darted back up, there was a tear falling down the height of her cheek and her eyes had fluttered shut. His eyes softened further. He fully grasped her hand, intertwining their hands.

"S'okay, mi sol." My sun. He murmured, hoping to calm her. "S'gonna be okay. I'm here fa' you — always."

"I don't know what I'll do the next time I see Luke." She confessed to him in the depth of night, flicking the stray tear away as if it'd offended her. "I stabbed him after seeing him once. And after what he told us, I'll be angrier than ever ... but I—" she cut herself off for a second to breathe. "—I don't want to kill him."

"I know." He understood her, as much as he hated to admit to showing mercy to the guy who'd attempted to murder him.

The hair-do that cascaded down her back moved with the shudder that shook her. "Will we ever get a break, Percy?"

It still hurt him to not hear her nickname for him. He winced quietly at the sound of the name everyone called him, but didn't comment on it otherwise. "I dunno, Lettie." He was almost as hopeless as she was. "Maybe?"

She chuckled weakly. "Maybe." She agreed quietly, wary. Her red-rimmed eyes were torn away from the horizon to look at him.

Everything that shone in her eyes made him nervous. He swallowed thickly, unable to move his gaze away from her. She looked at him like he was something more than a boy — like someone to be worshiped and appreciated.

"What—" he gulped. "—what is it?"

"Your eyes match the water." She whispered, her lips barely moving with the words that slowly left her mouth (he knew because it was a movement he tracked).

"Yeah?" He breathed out, feeling static on his skin. The hairs on the back of his neck stood tall, goosebumps trailing the skin of his arms.

She hummed affirmingly, her eyes tracing every feature on his face in an intimate way that made the tips of his ears burn. Before he knew it, their faces were closer than before — almost like the pull of magnets drawn together. His eyelashes fluttered before his eyes closed, feeling her lips just barely caress his.

His breath hitched in his throat. He was stockstill, but his eyes reopened when he felt the coolness of rings against his cheek.

"Tell me you want this." She urged quietly, her thumb rubbing against the high point of his cheekbone gently. "I'm not moving until you tell me to."

"I want this." The words poured out his mouth without hesitation. "Kiss me. Please." He wasn't above begging for her.

When she got closer, his eyes closed again, awaiting her. His spine tingled at the feeling of her lips moving against his. She was so soft. So sweet. He couldn't imagine a better feeling. With her free hand on his face, the other still intertwined with one of his, he felt like his own unused hand needed to be somewhere — it needed something to hold onto. Without thinking, his hand found her hip, running his thumb along the exposed skin. There was a sudden warmth in his stomach. He wasn't too sure what he was doing. He knew she did. But running his tongue along the seam of her lips felt right. But she pulled away. He chased her lips with his own desperately, but she tutted in disagreement to his actions. His eyes reopened, feeling heat build along his neck at the amused gleam in her eyes.

"Someone's eager." The edge of her lip was curled upward.

He bit his bottom lip, looking down at his lap. "Can't help it."

The breathy chuckle that left her was something he hadn't heard in awhile. Much like the sound of her voice, anything that resembled genuine laughter from her was music to his ears. His heart warmed at the sound. The ringed palm that caressed his face left and he nearly protested, but when he felt that hand interlock with his hand that'd been on her hip, he grinned brightly at the affection she was showing him.

She squeezed his hands with her ringed ones before letting go of one, turning back to face the horizon, and letting her head fall onto his shoulder comfortably. "Keep your eyes on the ocean, mon cœur." My heart.

He did as told.

Percy's eyes were back on the horizon. More than once, he spotted monsters. A plume of water as tall as a skyscraper spewed into the moonlight. A row of green spine slithered across the waves — something maybe a hundred feet long, reptilian. (He brought Colette's hand up to his mouth, pressing a small kiss to the back of it when she tensed at the gleaming scales.) He'd seen Nereids, the glowing lady spirits of the sea. He tried to wave at them with his free hand, but they disappeared into the depths, leaving him unsure if they'd seen him or not.

Sometime after midnight, Annabeth returned to the deck. A part of him was worried she'd react badly to his and Colette's interlocked hands — the sight of Colette's blonde hair resting on his shoulder. But she didn't. Annabeth looked between them, something warm flashing in her eyes, and she almost smiled. She didn't say anything about it, only putting herself on Colette's otherside, taking the blonde's free hand in her own, and intertwining them the way Percy had a few hours ago. The ship was just passing a smoking volcano island. The sea bubbled and steamed around the shore.

"One of the Forges of Hephaestus." Annabeth filled Percy in so Colette didn't have to. "Where he makes his metal monsters."

"Like 'em bronze bulls from before?" Percy raised an eyebrow.

She nodded. "Go around. Far around."

He didn't need to be told a second time. The trio steered clear of the island, and eventually it was just a red patch of haze behind them.

He looked a little over Colette's head to gaze at Annabeth. "The reason you hate Cyclopes so much ... the story about how Thalia really died. What happened?"

It was hard to see her expression in the dark, but he felt Colette's hand squeeze his reassuringly. He was sure she'd done it to Annabeth, too. It was why she answered him.

"I guess you deserve to know." Annabeth murmured for a second before taking a second to find a way to string the words together. "The night Grover was escorting us to camp, he got confused, took some wrong turns. You remember he told you that once?"

Percy nodded in agreement.

"Well, the worst wrong turn was into a Cyclops' lair in Brooklyn."

It'd been a year since he'd learned about his father's half of his heritage, and the realization of how close monsters roam to demigods and mortals alike all the time still shocked him. "They've got fuckin' Cyclopes in Brooklyn?"

Her face was exasperated for a second, as if just as surprised as him. "You wouldn't believe how many," her free hand waved dismissively, "but that's not the point. This Cyclops, he tricked us. He managed to split us up inside this maze of corridors in an old house in Flatbush. And he could sound like anyone, Percy. Just like Tyson did on the Princess Andromeda. He lured us, one at a time. Thalia thought she was running to save Luke. Luke thought heard me and Lettie scream for help. Lettie thought she heard her mom calling to her. And me ... I was alone in the dark. I was nine years old. I couldn't even find the exit." Colette picked her head up from Percy's shoulder, letting go of his hand, and brushing some hair out of Annabeth's face before returning to the position she'd been in when the brunette came back up from below deck.

The brunette continued the story, taking a breath. "I remember finding the main room. There were bones all over the floor. And there were Thalia and Luke and Grover and Lettie, tied up and gagged, hanging from the ceiling like smoked hams. The Cyclops was starting a fire in the middle of the floor. I drew my knife, but he heard me. He turned and smiled. He spoke, and somehow he knew my dad's voice. I guess he just plucked it out of my mind. He said: Now, Annabeth, don't you worry. I love you. You can stay here with me. You can stay forever."

Percy shivered. The way she told it — even then, six years later — freaked him out worse than any other ghost story he'd ever heard. "What'd you do?"

"I stabbed him in the foot."

"Ya' kiddin'?" Percy blinked at her. "You was seven years old 'n you stabbed a grown ass Cyclops in the fuckin' foot?"

"Oh, he would've killed me. But I surprised him. It gave me just enough time to run to Thalia and cut the ropes on her hands. She and Lettie took it from there."

"Yeah, but still ... that was brave as fuck, Annabeth."

She shook her head at the compliment. "We barely got out alive. I still have nightmares, Percy. The way that Cyclops talked in my father's voice. It was his fault we took so long getting to camp. All the monsters who'd been chasing us had time to catch up. That's why Thalia really died. If it hadn't been for that Cyclops, she'd still be alive today."

The trio sat on the deck silently, watching the Heracles constellation rise in the night sky.

"Go below." Annabeth told him at last when the silence lingered for too long, sharing a look with Colette. "You need some rest."

Percy nodded. His eyes were heavy. But when he got below and found a hammock, it took him a while to fall asleep. He kept thinking about Annabeth's story. He wondered, if he was in her position, would he have had enough courage to go on the quest they were on — to sail straight toward the lair of another Cyclops?

The dreams of a demigod were always haunting. But there was also a revealing nature to them, no matter how terrifying they were. They always caused the recipient to wake up either screaming, crying, or shivering with cold sweats. Percy was often the victim of these telling dreams (read: Night terrors*), and, gods, did he hate it more than anything. As much as he appreciated the insight and answers, he just wanted to sleep peacefully for one night. He couldn't even have it while on the Queen Anne's Revenge.

He bolted upright in the hammock he'd been laying in.

               Annabeth was shaking him. "Percy," she sounded worried, "you were having a nightmare. You need to get up."

               "Wh—what's it?" He slurred, rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong?"

               "Land," she answered grimly, "we're approaching the Island of the Sirens."

Percy could barely see the island ahead of them, just a dark spot in the mist.

               "I want you to do me a favor." Annabeth spoke again, drawing his attention back to her face. Her expression was set in a grimace, and her voice had become quieter — as if she was trying to make sure the conversation stayed between them, away from Colette. "The Sirens ... we'll be in range of their singing soon."

               Percy remembered stories about the Sirens. They sang so sweetly their voices enchanted sailors and lured them to their deaths. He also halfheartedly realized Colette had the power to do the very same if she ever wanted to. "No pro'lem," he assured the brunette girl, "we can just top up our ears. There's a shit ton of candle wax below deck—"

               "—I want to hear them."

               He blinked at the whispered confession. "Why?"

               "They say the Sirens sing the truth about what you desire. They tell you things about yourself you didn't even realize. That's what's so enchanting. If you survive ... you become wiser. I wanna hear them. How often will I get that chance?"

Had those words come from anyone else, they would've made no sense. But Percy knew who Annabeth was. She was the kind of girl who'd struggle through the Greek architecture books and enjoy documentaries on the History Channel, so the Sirens appealing to her made sense — too much sense, really.

She told him her plan, and he reluctantly agreed to help her. There was just one more obstacle before completion: Getting through to Colette.

The pair of them shared a look before going back up to find the blonde facing the water. Her skirt flowing with the wind, and her hair doing the very same. She was gripping the railing in front of her, knuckles white from the force.

               "Lettie ..." Annabeth started to speak, softening her voice.

               "No."

The answer was immediate, and Percy felt himself jolt in shock. How'd she know what Annabeth was going to ask?

               Annabeth was startled, too. "What?"

               Colette turned her head just enough to make eye contact with the brunette. The light blue shade of her eyes was a stark contrast to the deeper hue they'd been the night before. Those same eyes were glaring then. They weren't soft the way they usually were when looking at Annabeth or Percy. They were hardened, angry. "In what world do you think I am okay with you endangering yourself because you think you're going to get wiser after listening to creatures that could kill you, Annabeth?"

               "I won't die, Lettie!" Annabeth immediately argued despite knowing the blonde had a point. "You'll be up here with Percy, making sure I don't go too far."

               "You think that will stop the Sirens?" Colette chuckled something bitter, accent thick.

               "Please."

Much like Percy, Annabeth wasn't above begging.

               The blonde turned away from the sea, facing the other two demigods with disappointed eyes. Her jaw was clenched. "Do what you want, Annabeth."

It was the last thing she said before going below deck for the first time since they'd boarded. She didn't look back at them, clearly irritated. Her refusal seemed to rub off on Percy, he looked at Annabeth hesitantly.

               The brunette threw her hands up in frustration. "Not you, too!"

               "A'ight, fine!" He snapped back.

As soon as the rocky coastline of the island was in view, Percy ordered one of the ropes to wrap around Annabet's waist, tying her to the foremast of the ship.

               "Don't untie me," she ordered, "no matter what happens or how much I plead. I'll want to go straight over the edge and drown myself."

               "You tryna' tempt me?"

               "Har-har."

He smiled at her mocking, promising to keep her secure. Then he took two large wads of candle wax, kneading them into earplugs before he stuffed his ears. He put one finger up to Annabeth, telling her to wait a second. He went below to find the blonde who could've burned a hole through the floor with her worried pacing. He handed her another two wads of candle wax as a peace offering. He held his hand out when she took them reluctantly. She took his hand as soon as the wax was in her ears.

When the two went back up to the deck, Annabeth nodded at them sarcastically. She was basically letting them know how stupid the earplugs looked in their ears. Colette didn't look at her, but Percy pulled a face at her, turning to the pilot's wheel.

The silence was eerie. Percy couldn't hear anything but the rush of blood in his head. As they approached the island, jagged rocks loomed out of the fog. He willed the Queen Anne's Revenge to skirt around them. If they sailed any closer, those rocks would shred their hull like blender blades. He glanced back. At first, Annabeth seemed normal. Then there was a puzzled look on her face, eyes widening.

She strained against the ropes. She called Colette's name, then Percy's — he could tell just by reading her lips. Her expression was clear: She had to get out. It was life or death. Someone had to get her out of the ropes.

She seemed so miserable it took everything in him not to cut her free. He understood why the blonde was refusing to look then.

It was why he forced himself to look away, too. He urged the Queen Anne's Revenge to go faster along the water.

Percy couldn't see much of the island — just mist and rocks — but floating in the water were pieces of wood and fiberglass, the wreckage of old ships, even some flotation cushions from airplanes. How could music cause so many lives to veer off course? Sure, there were some songs — mainly the ones Colette wrote — that would make him want to take a fiery nosedive, but still; What could the Sirens possibly sing about?

For a dangerous moment, he understood Annabeth's curiosity. He was tempted to take the earplugs out, just to get a taste of the song. He could feel the Sirens' voices vibrating in the timbers of the ship, pulsing along with the roar of the blood in his ears. His sudden curiosity was apparently visible because Colette gripped his wrist tightly, enough to ground him, and shook her head sternly at him.

               Annabeth was pleading with them. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She strained against the ropes, as if they were holding her back from everything she'd ever cared about. How could you both be so cruel? She seemed to be asking them. I thought you were my—

Percy glared at the misty island before he could see the end of her sentence. He wanted to uncap his sword, but there was nothing to fight. How do you fight a song?

               He tried not to look at Annabeth. And he succeeded for five minutes. But that'd been his mistake. Colette was shaking him, pointing at where Annabeth should've been. He looked and found a heap of cut ropes. Colette's mouth was moving rapidly. He couldn't make out most of the words, so he assumed it'd been French rapidfire curse words. But he caught the last sentence: Did you forget to disarm her?

Shit.

He had completely forgotten to. Annabeth's bronze knife lay on the deck.

The pair of them rushed to the side of the boat and saw her, paddling madly for the island. The waves were carrying her straight toward the jagged rocks. Percy screamed her name, completely sure Colette was doing the same. If she'd heard them, she didn't make it known. She was entranced, swimming toward her death.

               He looked back at the pilot's wheel. "Stay!" He yelled at it.

When he looked back, Colette had already jumped into the water, trying to push through the currents. He jumped in, too, helping her get through the waves that seemed to crash into her at full force. He willed the water to bend around them, making a jet stream that shot them forward. They came to the surface and spotted Annabeth, but a wave caught her, sweeping her between two razor-sharp fangs of rock.

Percy had no choice. He found Colette's hand, pulling her with him as he plunged after the brunette. He only hoped and prayed she could hold her breath for long. He made them dive under the wrecked hull of a yacht, weaving through a collection of floating metal balls on chains that he realized were mines. He had to use all his power over the water to make sure neither of them got smashed against the rocks or tangled in the nets of barbed wire strung just below the surface. He jetted them between the two rock fangs and found they were in a half-moon-shaped bay. The water was choked with more rocks and ship wreckage and floating mines. The beach was black, volcanic sand.

He looked desperately for Annabeth.

He felt Colette pat his shoulder, pointing ahead.

Luckily or unluckily, Annabeth was a strong swimmer, much like her best friend. She'd managed to make it past the mines and rocks. She was almost to the black beach.

Then the mist cleared and he saw them — the Sirens. They looked like a flock of vultures the size of people — with dirty, black plumage, gray talons, and wrinkled pink necks. And human heads on top of those necks, but their heads kept changing. Percy couldn't hear them, but it was clear they were singing.

As their mouths moved, their faces morphed into people he knew — his mom, Poseidon, Grover, Tyson, Chiron. All the people he wanted to see. They smiled reassuringly, inviting him forward. But no matter what shape they took, their mouths were greasy and caked with the remnants of old meals. Like vultures, they'd been eating with their faces, and it didn't look like they'd been feasting on Monster Donuts.

Annabeth swam toward them.

Percy shared a look with the blonde girl with him. They knew what they had to do. He was sure he wasn't going to be able to get Annabeth out of the water. The sea was his only advantage. It had always protected him, one way or another. He propelled the pair of them forward. He grabbed one of her ankles, making sure Colette could grab hold of her other one.

The moment he touched her, a shock went through his body, and he saw the Sirens the way Annabeth must've been seeing them.

Five people sat on a picnic blanket in Central Park. A feast was spread out before them. Percy was surprised to see himself laying on the blanket. The clothes he was wearing were so similar to ones he already owned: A vintage Nike shirt that had blue, short sleeves and the logo in blue across the chest of the shirt with the collar and mid-section of the shirt in an off-white sort of color, a regular pair of blue jean shorts, and black Converse. He was laying his head on Colette's lap with his body horizontal to hers that was sitting up, her hand running through his dark hair softly with a soft smile on her face. She was wearing a tight, white shirt with the words Fast Girl written near the collar of the shirt, the Ford logo just underneath it — the shorts she was wearing resembled boxers, looking like a pair he had in his dresser, and she was matching shoes with him, hers just looked more worn in.

Percy also recognized Annabeth's dad from the photos she'd shown him — an athletic-looking, dark haired man in his forties. He was holding hands with a beautiful woman who looked a lot like Annabeth. She was dressed casually — in blue jeans and a denim shirt and hiking boots — but something about the woman radiated power. Percy knew he was looking at Athena. Across from Vision-Colette was a young man ... Luke Castellan.

The whole scene glowed in a warm, buttery light. The five of them were talking and laughing and, when they all saw Annabeth, their faces lit up with delight. Annabeth's mother and father held out their arms invitingly. Vision-Colette and Percy were smiling softly, gesturing for her to join them on the blanket. Luke was grinning brightly, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked between the trio — as if he'd never betrayed them, as if he was still their friend.

Behind the trees of Central Park, a city skyline rose. Real-Percy caught his breath. It was Manhattan, but not Manhattan. It had been totally rebuilt from dazzling, white marble, bigger and grander than ever — with golden windows and rooftop gardens. It was bigger than New York. Better than Mount Olympus.

Real-Percy knew immediately that Annabeth had designed it all. She was the architect for a whole new world. She had reunited her parents. She had Percy and Colette by her side even in her vision. She had saved Luke. She had done everything she'd ever wanted.

Percy blinked hard. When he reopened his eyes, all he saw were the Sirens — ragged vultures with human faces, ready to feed on another victim.

He looked back at Colette, who's eyes had grown watery — she'd clearly seen everything he had. He squeezed her arm a bit, telling her everything he needed to with his eyes. When she nodded, the pair of them pulled Annabeth back into the surf. They couldn't hear her, but they could tell she was screaming. She would've kicked him in the face if Colette hadn't caught her foot. They held onto her ankles tightly. Percy willed the currents to carry the three of them out into the bay. Annabeth tried so hard to fight them, but Colette lept to grab hold of her entire body, securely making sure she didn't hurt anyone. As long as Percy kept a good grip on Colette, they would be fine. The three of them went under because, no matter how strong the blonde was, the brunette was just as relentless. Annabeth had stopped struggling once their heads were under. Then their heads broke the surface and she started fighting again.

Percy remembered sound didn't travel well underwater, then. Colette seemed to have realized the same. She looked at Percy and nodded firmly. She gripped Annabeth's waist even tighter, and he ordered the waves to push them down.

The three of them shot into the depths — ten feet, twenty feet. He knew he had to be careful because the girls couldn't withstand as much pressure as he could. Annabeth still fought and struggled for breath as bubbles rose around them.

Colette wasn't fairing any better either. She looked like she was struggling, too. Percy grew desperate. He needed to keep the girls alive. He imagined all the bubbles in the sea — always churning, rising. He imagined them coming together, being pulled toward him.

The sea obeyed.

There was a flurry of white, a tickling sensation around him, and when his vision cleared — the trio had a huge bubble of air around them. Only their legs stuck into the water.

The girls gasped for oxygen and coughed out the water that'd breached into their lungs during the excursion under the ocean. Their bodies shuddered with the breaths they tried to take in. Annabeth managed to pull away from Colette's loosened grip and, when she looked at the other two, it was clear the spell had broken.

Annabeth started to sob — horrible, heartbroken sobbing. She reached out and Colette grabbed her, pulling her in as she sobbed into the blonde's shoulder. Colette looked at him, telling him that he needed to join the hug. The brunette seemed to cry even harder when she felt his warmth added to the embrace.

               Fish gathered around to look at the trio — a school of barracudas, some curious marlins. Scram! He told them furiously. They swam off, but he could tell they went reluctantly. He could've sworn he understood their intentions. They were going to be rumors flying around the sea about the Son of Poseidon and two girls at the bottom of Siren Bay.

               "I'll get us back ta' the ship." Percy told the girls. "S'ight, just hang on."

Annabeth pulled her head away from Colette's neck, nodding at him to let him know she was better. She murmured something neither of the other two demigods could hear because of the candle wax in their ears.

Percy made the current steer their weird little air submarine through the rocks and barbed wire and back toward the hull of the Queen Anne's Revenge, which was maintaining a slow and steady course away from the island. The trio stayed underwater, following the ship, until Percy knew they were out of earshot of the Sirens. Then he surfaced and their air bubble popped. He ordered a rope ladder to drop over the side of the ship, and they climbed aboard.

Colette and Percy kept their earplugs in, just to be sure. The trio sailed until the island was completely out of sight. Annabeth sat huddled in a blanket on the forward deck.

Finally she looked up, dazed and sad, and mouthed one word: Safe.

The pair took their earplugs out. There was no singing. The afternoon was quiet except for the sound of the waves against the hull. The fog had burned away to the blue sky, as if the Island of Sirens had never existed.

               "I'm sorry." Annabeth apologized to Colette quietly. "You were right."

               Colette plopped down next to the brunette, her head tilted back in defeat. "The argument was never about me being right. It was about wanting you to be safe, Annie. That's all I wanted. But you value wisdom too much."

               Percy felt his face soften at the sound of the brunette's nickname falling from the blonde's lips. "You okay, though?" He asked the girl in braids. It was a lame question because, of course she wasn't okay, but he still needed to ask.

               "I didn't realize." She murmured instead of answering his question.

               "What?"

               While Colette's eyes were taking on a teal-like blue hue because of the afternoon sky, Annabeth's were the same color as the mist over the Siren's Island. "How powerful the temptation was going to be."

               Percy didn't know what to say to that. He didn't want to admit he'd seen what the Sirens had promised her. He felt like a trespasser. But he figured he owed it to Annabeth. "I—" he cut himself off when he looked at the blonde, realizing she'd seen it, too.  "—We," he corrected, "saw the way you rebuilt Manhattan. Us. Your parents. And Luke."

               The tip of her nose pinkened, she was blushing. "You guys saw that?"

               "You started the world from scratch." Colette's lip just barely ticked up warily.

               Annabeth pulled the blanket tighter around her. "My fatal flaw. That's what the Sirens showed me. My fatal flaw is hubris."

               "I figured." The blonde nodded slightly.

               But Percy blinked. "The brown shit they spread on veggie sandwiches?"

               Their serious moment was over, just like that. Annabeth rolled her eyes. "No, Seaweed Brain. That's hummus. Hubris is worse."

               "What's worse than hummus?"

               Her shoulders dropped, done with his unserious jokes. "Hubris means deadly pride, Percy. Thinking you can do things better than anyone else ... even the gods."

               "You feel that way?" His eyebrows creased slightly in genuine curiosity.

               She looked down when Colette's eyes fixed on her intently. "Don't you ever feel like, what if the world really is messed up? What if we could do it all over again from scratch. No more war. Nobody homeless. No more summer reading homework."

               "I'm listenin'." Percy quipped, knowing the last part was aimed at him.

               "I mean, the West represents a lot of the best things mankind ever did — that's why the fire's still burning. That's why Olympus is still around. But sometimes you just see the bad stuff, you know? And you start thinking the way Luke does: 'If I could tear this all down, I would do it better.' Don't you ever feel that way? Like you could do a better job if you ran the world?"

               Colette seemed to swallow, thinking. "Sometimes." She admitted. "Maybe ... maybe not as far into ruling the world, but ... fixing the things people — the gods — ignore because they can't be bothered to help it."

               Percy looked between the girls. "Yeah, me runnin' the world would be a fuckin' nightmare, I'm not gon' lie to y'all."

               "Then you're lucky, both of you are." Annabeth sighed. "Hubris isn't your fatal flaw."

               "What is?"

               "I don't know, Percy, but every hero has one. If you don't find it and learn to control it ... well, they don't call it 'fatal' for nothing."

               "You know yours?" He looked at the blonde, making Annabeth do the same — just as curious as he was.

               "It's the same as Luke's." Colette gave them a grim smile at that revelation. "Excessive wrath. More so inherited than acquired, but the same nonetheless."

Percy wanted to say he was surprised, but he wasn't. And neither was Annabeth. He thought about the things the girls told him, but it didn't cheer him up much. He also noticed Annabeth hadn't said much about the personal things she would change — like getting her parents back together, being with Percy and Colette, and saving Luke. He understood. He didn't want to admit how many times he'd dreamed of getting his own parents back together.

He pictured his mom, alone in their little apartment on the Upper East Side. He tried to remember the smell of her blue waffles in the kitchen. It seemed so far away.

               "Was it worth it?" Percy asked Annabeth. "D'you feel ... wiser?"

               She gazed into the distance. "I'm not sure. But we have to save the camp. If we don't stop Luke ..." she trailed off.

She didn't need to finish. Percy knew exactly what she meant. He thought about the dream he'd had before he was pulled from it. The girl and the golden sarcophagus. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he got the feeling he was missing something. Something terrible that Kronos was planning. What had the girl seen when she opened the coffin lid?

               Suddenly Annabeth's eyes widened. "Lettie, Percy." She called them.

They turned. Ahead was another blotch of land — a saddle-shaped island with forested hills and white beaches and green meadows — just like Percy had seen in his dreams.

His nautical senses confirmed it. 30 degrees, 31 minutes north, 75 degrees, 12 minutes west.

The trio had reached the Home of the Cyclops after hearing the hymns of the knowing.

ICARUS INQUIRES:

^^^^^^^^^^me gigglin n kickin my feet writing this chap for y'all<33

I absolutely had to make sure this went out on Percy's birthday (Happy mf Birthday to my Barnacle Boy). And I had to give him a special little treat, ofc.

Seven more chapters left, guys. Then the more serious drama of TTC starts. Y'all thought Lettie not talking to Percy or Annie was bad? Imagine Percy not talking to Lettie, and running to tell Annie the prophecy because he knows Lettie hasn't told her. [insert evil laughter]

DEBRIEF:

— Percy POV for his birthday<3

— Percy and Lettie's moment.

— Percy and Lettie's KISS.

— Yes, Lettie is the top and more dominant of the three, thank you for noticing.

— Annie accepting it's gonna be the three of them or none of them when she joins them on top of the ship's deck.

— Annie and Lettie arguing before she goes to listen to the sirens.

— Lettie jumping in to help Annie without waiting for the SEA GOD'S SON because she dgaf about drowning if Annie's in danger.

— Annie's vision. [insert giggles] She knows who her lovers are, trust.

— Percy and Lettie saving her from death.

— Percy and Lettie holding Annie in comfort.

— Percy irritated 'cos the fish are gonna tell all the others under the fucking sea he's got two gfs (he does).

— Lettie's fatal flaw drop? Oops.

— Grover, baby, the throuple is coming to save you. You'll third wheel again soon!

ON ANOTHER NOTE: Guys, I just fuckin realized that the maths of their ages isn't mathing the way I want it to [insert my heartbroken tears]. I have to go through and edit every time their ages or grades are mentioned tomorrow. Just to break it down though:

In The Lightning Thief: Lettie is fifteen, Annie and Percy are soon to be fifteen. Percy just finished his freshman year of high school.

In The Sea of Monsters: Lettie is sixteen, Annie and Percy are soon to be sixteen. Percy just finished his sophomore year of high school. Tyson is how ever old you want him to be LOL.

In The Titans Curse: The trio is still sixteen, but they're going on seventeen. Percy is halfway through his junior year.

In The Battle of the Labyrinth: Lettie is seventeen, Annie and Percy are soon to be seventeen. Percy just finished his junior year of high school.

In The Last Olympian: The trio is EIGHTEEN, babyyyyy. All three of them are legal™️, which means spicy stuff for book two.

OMG OMG OMG. Guys, I have an Annabeth fic in the works — it's titled "CHIHIRO." Lemme self promo rq, tell me what you guys think:

Anyway, that's all I've got for you guys. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter of 6.6k words. Don't forget to comment (please please please please please please please) and vote.

I LOVE YOU ALL, THANK YOU FOR OVER 50k READS MWUAH MWUAH <333