The weight of Grover's story settled over us like a cold mist. We stared at the distant pine, its branches swaying gently in the breeze, and for a moment, we could almost see her—Thalia, standing alone, lightning crackling in the air, facing down an army from the dark.
"So a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?" Percy asked, his voice quieter than before.
Grover shifted uncomfortably, his hooves scraping against the marble step. "Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems."
I didn't look at Percy, but I could feel the tension coiling in his shoulders beside me. The unspoken question hung between us, thick and heavy.
"And you found us," I said, breaking the silence. "Chiron said you thought we both might be something special."
Grover's eyes went wide, the whites showing all around. He looked as if we'd just led him into a trap. A soft, panicked bleat escaped him.
"I didn't… Oh, listen, don't think like that." He wrung his hands, his gaze darting from Percy to me and back to the safety of the valley below. "If you guys were—you know—you'd never ever be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my license." He said it with such desperate conviction, as if repeating the rule could make it true. "You guys are probably children of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods or goddesses, like Nemesis, the goddess of revenge. That'd be something, right? Don't worry, okay?"
He offered a wobbly smile that didn't reach his eyes. I got the idea he was reassuring himself more than us.
Percy met my gaze, and in his sea-green eyes, I saw my own reflection—a mirror of the same uneasy understanding. We were both newcomers, thrown into a world where our parents were myths and our lives were bargaining chips. The story of Thalia wasn't just a tragic tale; it was a warning. A child of the Big Three was a lightning rod for danger, a catalyst for chaos. The very idea that we might be counted among them was terrifying.
Yet, the pieces didn't fit the safer picture Grover was trying to paint. The Minotaur hadn't seemed like a random encounter. The way the water in the bathroom had responded to Percy's anger… the strange, instinctive way I could anticipate the monster's moves in the fight, as if I could sense the shift in the air a second before it struck… Were those the traits of a minor god's child?
Grover was still talking, his words tumbling out in a nervous stream. "Hermes is great! He's the god of travelers, and thieves, and messengers. Lots of his kids end up here. Really clever, quick on their feet. You'd fit right in!"
He was trying so hard. I could see the fear in him—not fear of us, but for us. And for himself. His dream of getting his searcher's license, of finding Pan, it was all tied to his success in protecting us. If we were too powerful, too volatile, he would fail before he even began.
I looked back at Half-Blood Hill. The pine tree stood sentinel, a lonely monument to a girl who had been more than anyone could handle. Her sacrifice had created a safe border, but it had also drawn a line in the sand. On one side were the manageable half-bloods, the ones who could be trained and sent on controlled quests. On the other side were the children of the three most powerful Olympians—unpredictable, dangerous, and cursed with a fate that seemed to always end in tragedy.
The hollow feeling Grover's story had carved in my chest wasn't just sadness for Thalia. It was the dawning, chilling realization that we might be standing on the wrong side of that hill.
"Don't worry," Percy echoed Grover's words, but his voice was flat, distant. He was still looking at the tree.
Grover nodded vigorously, missing the tone entirely. "Right! Exactly. No worrying. We should get back. Dinner's soon, and you don't want to miss that."
He stood up, brushing off his jeans, his usual anxious energy returning. But as Percy and I rose to follow him, the story of Thalia Grace walked with us. It was in the shade of the pine, in the whisper of the wind over the valley, and in the silent, shared look between two boys who were just beginning to understand that their lives might be far from ordinary, and that in this world, being special was the most dangerous thing you could be.