The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

58. The Council Of The Gods

They landed at Crissy Field after nightfall.

As soon as Dr. Chase stepped out of his Sopwith Camel, Annabeth ran to him and gave him a huge hug. "Dad! You flew—you shot—oh my gods! That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"

Her father blushed. "Well, not bad for a middle-aged mortal, I suppose."

"But the celestial bronze bullets! How did you get those?"

"Ah, well. You did leave quite a few half-blood weapons in your room in Virginia, the last time you . . . left."

Annabeth looked down, embarrassed. This left sounded very close to ran away.

"I decided to try melting some down to make bullet casings," Dr. Chase continued. "Just a little experiment."

He said it like it was no big deal, but he had a gleam in his eye. Right that moment, it wasn't hard to understand why Athena, Goddess of Crafts and Wisdom, had taken a liking to him? He was a mad scientist and excellent in his field.

"Dad. . . ." Annabeth faltered.

"Guys," Thalia interrupted. Her voice was urgent. She and Artemis were kneeling at Zoë's side, binding the huntress's wounds.

Ethan helped Y/N up and supported him as they walked over. There wasn't much they could do. They had no ambrosia or nectar. No regular medicine would help. It was dark, but it didn't make it any harder to see that Zoë didn't look good. She was shivering, and the faint glow that usually hung around her was fading.

"Can't you heal her with magic?" Percy asked Artemis. "I mean . . . you're a goddess."

Artemis looked troubled. "Life is a fragile thing, Percy. If the Fates will the string to be cut, there is little I can do. But I can try."

She tried to set her hand on Zoë's side, but Zoë gripped her wrist. She looked into the goddess's eyes, and some kind of understanding passed between them.

"Have I . . . served thee well?" Zoë whispered.

"With great honor," Artemis said softly. "The finest of my attendants."

Zoë's face relaxed. "Rest. At last."

"I can try to heal the poison, brave one."

But in that moment, it wasn't just the poison that was killing Zoë. It was her father's final blow. Zoë had known all along that the Oracle's prophecy was about her: she would die by a parent's hand. And yet she'd taken the quest anyway. She had chosen to save Artemis, and Atlas's fury had broken her inside.

She saw Thalia, and took her hand.

"I am sorry we argued," Zoë said. "We could have been sisters."

"It's my fault," Thalia said, blinking hard. "You were right about Luke, about heroes, men—everything."

"Perhaps not all men," Zoë murmured. She smiled weakly at Y/N, Ethan, and Percy.

A shudder ran through her body.

"Zoë—" Ethan said.

"Stars," she whispered. "I can see the stars again, my Lady."

A tear trickled down Artemis's cheek. "Yes, my brave one. They are beautiful tonight."

"Stars," Zoë repeated. Her eyes fixed on the night sky. And she did not move again.

Thalia lowered her head. Annabeth gulped down a sob, and her father put his hands on her shoulders. Y/N watched as Artemis cupped her hand above Zoë's mouth and spoke a few words in Ancient Greek. A silvery wisp of smoke exhaled from Zoë's lips and was caught in the hand of the goddess. Zoë's body shimmered and disappeared.