-Annabeth POV-
When I think back on everything we've been through—the battles, the chaos, the countless moments that could've been our last—Mykel Stone still remains an enigma to me. In a world where most of us are fighting for survival every day, Mykel somehow manages to float through, as though he's only half awake. I didn't know what to make of him at first. I still don't, really.
It started with that fight in Central Park. I wasn't there—I was handling other threats at camp—but I heard about it afterward from Percy. The way he told it, Mykel barely held his own. Percy said Mykel's response to danger was more along the lines of sarcasm than actual action. "He's older," Percy had said with that half-grin he always has when he's trying to make light of things. "But he acts like a kid half the time."
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern. Mykel had been at camp longer than most of us, yet he seemed disconnected from the reality we were all dealing with. He wasn't useless, but when push came to shove, Percy said Mykel was more focused on dodging responsibilities than harpies.
That same conversation made me realize how much Percy had grown. We had been through so much together—fighting Kronos, watching as friends and allies fell, constantly facing the looming threat of destruction—and it brought us closer in ways that words don't really cover. His confidence had shifted from boyish bravery to something more solid, something I admired more than I'd ever let on at the time. The way Percy took charge, even in recounting the battle in Central Park, reminded me just how much I loved him. And the more the fight with Kronos loomed over us, the clearer it became how essential Percy was to all of it.
Mykel? Not so much.
When the final battle against Kronos came, it was the culmination of everything we'd fought for, every sacrifice we'd made. Percy and I stood together, as we always had, ready to face whatever came. I remember the chaos, the clashing swords, the way Kronos seemed to grow stronger with every swing. It was terrifying, but I never doubted that Percy would be right there, fighting beside me, like he always was. We were a team.
Mykel, on the other hand, was... elsewhere. Somewhere in the background, out of sight, out of mind. I didn't expect much from him by that point, but his absence during the most critical moments of the battle was glaring. He was supposed to have these powerful abilities from his father, Morpheus—abilities that could have turned the tide in our favor. But when Kronos was bearing down on us, slicing through the defenses like they were nothing, Mykel wasn't there. I don't even think he realized how crucial it all was.
It's not that he didn't want to help. I believe he genuinely thought his talents would matter at some point. Maybe he was even planning something big in his own mind. But dreams and illusions can only get you so far when you're staring down a titan, and Mykel... well, he wasn't cut out for the frontlines. His abilities were impressive in theory—he could manipulate dreams, create illusions that could trick even the most perceptive demigod—but when it came to the real battle, when we needed action, Mykel's talents were little more than echoes in a world where everything was crumbling around us.
In contrast, Percy fought like a force of nature. Watching him face down Kronos, knowing what was at stake, made me love him even more. There was no hesitation in him, no second-guessing. He knew who he was and what he had to do. And that's something I've always admired about Percy: his unwavering sense of purpose, even when things seemed impossible. He fought not just because he had to, but because he believed in what we were protecting.
Our relationship shifted throughout that battle. I think we both knew, somewhere deep down, that things were changing. We'd been through so much together, and it was no longer just about surviving. It was about fighting for each other, for what we had, for what we were becoming. Every swing of his sword, every time I defended his back, was another step toward a future that we weren't sure we'd live to see, but one we were willing to fight for.
And Mykel? Even now, I can't say he was useless. There were moments—small ones—where his dream-based powers helped guide us, pointed us toward paths we might have otherwise missed. He wasn't without value. But in that final battle, when the world was on the line, he was inconsequential. He was older than us, yes, but that didn't mean he was ready for what we had to face. I think Mykel's problem has always been that he lives too much in his head. Dreams are easy to control. Reality isn't.
So now, as I sit here, reflecting on all of it—on Percy, on Mykel, on everything we've been through—it's clear that not everyone was meant to stand on the frontlines. Some of us, like Percy and me, had no choice but to step up and fight. Others, like Mykel, drifted in and out, offering help where they could but never quite anchoring themselves to the same reality the rest of us were facing.
I don't blame him for that. I think he did what he could with what he had. But as the war against Kronos taught us, sometimes dreams aren't enough. Sometimes, you need to be willing to fight with everything you've got, even if it means stepping out of the dream and into the nightmare. Percy did that. I did that. Mykel? He's still figuring it out.