Epilogue

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For what it's worth: trust your feelings
I can't promise that you'll never get hurt again
But I can promise you the risk is worth it

-Rick Riordan

———

Two Years Later

Typically, differentiating between dreams and reality is quite easy. This was not the case for me the past few nights. For some unapparent reason, the lines blurred and left me more confused than an ADHD kid in their first year of Algebra.

Demigod dreams often contain monsters, the future, past or present, a mix of those, or nothing at all. So you can imagine my surprise when my supposed dreams of the past turned into that of the future.

The dreams always started the same, centered around the little girl, no older than six, holding onto a swingset. Her back facing me as she pumped her small legs, bringing herself higher and higher. Part of me, for whatever reason, wanted to get closer in the event that she would fall.

Instead, I just stared, analyzing every detail. The way she would huff in annoyance when the swing didn't reach the height she wanted. Her giggles as a rush of wind blew her hair in all directions. Blonde princess curls that weaved into what I recognized as a fishtail braid—the only kind I knew how to do.

The more I looked, the more I thought the little girl was Annabeth at a much younger age. Perhaps, a memory of simpler times before the stress of being a demigod.

"Be careful on those swings!" I heard a voice call from behind me. The little girl squealed in response claiming she would, then returned to happily pumping her legs with closed eyes to produce the illusion of flight.

Everything was going fine until the girl leaned back too far and lost her grip on the chains. I ran over just in time to keep her head from hitting the ground.

"Are you okay?" I asked, worried she hurt something. Her eyes were shut tightly, bracing herself for pain. Slowly, they opened. Her eyes destroyed the idea of the girl being Annabeth.

"Yup!" She giggled, wrapping her arms around my neck in a hug before jumping right back on the swing. She continued pumping her little legs, pretending as if like a total stranger hadn't just saved her from cracking her head open.

I can't blame her for totally writing off what just happened, however. My thoughts only consisted of her eyes.

"Look!" she squealed, "I'm flying, Baba!"

And then, with those last three words echoing in my head, the dream was over. However, the dream stayed with me, I could remember every detail—probably because it was the fifth time I had that particular dream. Despite the many different aspects and details of the dream, my thoughts always went back to the same thing... Her eyes.

Now, I know that Poseidon isn't exactly what Christians would refer to as a Saint, but he's trying and staying loyal to his wife, Amphitrite. There's no way he pulled a Zeus and decided it was time for me to have a sister...

Right?

After staring at the ceiling hoping for sleep to return for a few minutes, I decided it was a lost cause and left the warmth and comfort of my bed. The covers shifted as I got up, causing Annabeth to shiver slightly in her sleep.

What if I took the entire blanket away and whacked her in the face with a pillow? my mischievous side thought with a smile.

Or... you could make some blue pancakes for her and yourself, the other side of me thought.

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