Just a quick wrap up. Nothing too spectacular.

Thanks for being amazing and reading this crazy, ridiculous story.

Epilogue

In the end, Luke Castellan was the hero.

As Kronos' scythe struck him, he had grabbed Annabeth's dagger and rammed it into Kronos' abdomen, effectively shielding Percy and killing the psychopath. And it had cost him his life.

"Good blade," he croaked.

"Oh Luke, Luke, Luke," Annabeth whispered as she cradled his head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair. "Hang in there, we'll get a medic. Percy find a phone and call an ambulance." Tears streamed down her face, her breathing heavy.

Luke grasped Annabeth's hand. "No. No doctors… I…I'm done with… doctors." He gave her a weak smile, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. She laughed a dry and bitter laugh. "I…I almost let him kill you."

"Shh," she said, "you were the hero. Everything's going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine." But she said it as if she were more trying to reassure herself.

"I'm…sorry." His breathing grew labored. "I… I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know. I know."

"Did you ever… ever love me?"

Annabeth paused, looking up to meet eyes with Percy, drinking in the fact that they were both still alive. "I think I did… once. But not anymore. Not like that. I love you like a brother. I'm sorry."

Luke closed his eyes, a weak sigh escaping from his lips. "I thought so." He winced in pain. His eyes turned to meet Percy's. "You take good care of her." Percy could only nod. "And… and… make sure they all feel loved… tell them the truth.

"Let them… let them know that they decide their destiny."

He let out a dry sob and then one last cry of pain before his breathing stilled and Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh Luke, Luke, Luke. Come back. Please, please come back." Her body was wracked with sobs. "Come back. Come back. Come back."

But he wouldn't come back. Couldn't come back.

Death is ruthless at times. It takes and it takes and it takes.

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The cops didn't know what to make of it.

Two bloodied teenagers with swords, two corpses, lots of ruined computers. One very large scythe. Percy could only imagine the paper work for this.

But there was no use trying to cover up the truth.

"This place is a mad house," Percy said. "This company's been murdering children in their basement. I'd get on that if I were you. There's some pretty shitty nightmares living in that basement so I'd make sure to bring a flashlight. The boy's name is Luke Castellan. Make sure his mother knows and I'd also inform Chiron at Goode Academy on Long Island. If you don't, you'll be hearing from my lawyers."

And even though he didn't have lawyers, the cops nodded as if he did. He left his contact information with the head officer but figured they'd have enough evidence that his testimony might be pointless beyond explaining the dead bodies. But it was New York.

Crazy shit happens all the time.

Once the EMT was finished bandaging Annabeth's ankle, Percy put her in a wheely chair —"Don't worry Wise Girl, we'll get you crutches so that you don't feel like such an invalid."—and pushed her toward the elevator.

One of the greatest feelings in the world was hitting the button to the lobby.

He told the taxi driver to take them to the safest place in the world.

Sally Jackson's apartment.

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Mankind lives in an imperfect world and the moment someone tries to perfect it, someone else gets hurt. And perhaps the only way we can continue to exist is once we accept that our world can never be made perfect.

It can be made better, but never perfect because no man is infallible. And life likes to tear us down with no care for his wellbeing.

So we rebuild. We replant the ripped up trees and try to heal the open wounds.

Percy Jackson would never be the same. Some people would tell him to forget the slightly less than two decades of his life and to move on. Leave behind all the darkness, the nightmares, the blood. Shut the mental door and lock it.

But the thing about our darkness—the scars, the bruises—is that they define us. To pretend they never happened is to pretend a part of us does not exist.

It defines us but it must never consume us.

So we rebuild.

Percy and Annabeth returned to Goode Academy a week later. The place was shut down in under a month, the children sent home. But many of their homes rejected them, turned them away. So Chiron and Mr. D officially began Camp Half-Blood, adopting the name the students had affectionately given it. It became a haven for all the children who were created through Kronos' experimentation and whose parents no longer cared for them.

Percy and Annabeth worked with Chiron to reach out to the unknown parents of the children—Annabeth may or may not have emailed herself all the information from the main hard drive at PAIL—and while many of them could care less, some did come to meet their newly discovered children.

Poseidon was one of them.

Percy knew that he would never have a normal relationship with his father. He was a wealthy business man dealing in sea transportation who was already married with children but the moment he walked into the room and saw the man in the Hawaiian shirt his throat seized up and he couldn't properly think.

"Percy," his father said.

And for the first time Percy could remember, he hugged his father.

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Nothing ever happens the way we think it would.

At the end of the first year at Camp Half-Blood in August, Percy stood on the tall hill looking down at everything: the cabins, the climbing wall, the mess hall.

He still had nightmares which reeked of blood and felt like death. He saw Ethan shoving his own sword into his stomach, Luke diving in front of him. Zoe. Olive. Every face. He would wake up in a cold sweat most nights, shaking, reaching over to feel Annabeth sleeping at his side only to find that she too was awake with wide grey eyes.

The nightmares would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Emotional scars are just as painful as the physical ones.

Somedays he forgot where he was, forgot who he was, forgot everything. But Annabeth was always there to pull him back. And he was always there for her. Always reaching out to take each other's hand to remember that they were still alive. Still sane even though sometimes they felt as if they were anything but.

"What are you looking at?" He turned to see Annabeth climbing up the hill, a backpack slung over her shoulders. They were heading back into the city for the school year.

"Just making sure I remember everything," he said, taking her hand. "How's Leo?"

"He's healed a bit more from the explosion he started in the mess hall. Bit taken with the new nurse. Her name's Calypso. They found her at PAIL. Apparently, her dad was one of Kronos' brothers and she was forced to serve as a medic for the place."

"Good for him. Thalia doing better?"

One of the greatest moments of Percy's life was seeing Annabeth reunited with Thalia Grace. The girl had been in a coma in one of PAIL's medical rooms after being severely injured in the "Basement of Hell." With proper medical attention, she was soon up and about, leading fight training at Camp. There were still dozens of Kronos' cronies still lurking in the shadows, obsessed with creating the perfect world.

Percy still wasn't sure what he thought of Thalia Grace but if Annabeth liked her then Percy had to at least tolerate her.

"Yeah. Her and Jason are still trying to get back to the standard 'brother/sister' relationship but overall she's the same snappy, sarcastic girl I know." She studied his face. "You doing fine?"

"Not really but I'm doing better."

"Did your dad call you this week yet?"

"Yeah we talked last night. He's back in Greece with his family."

"You ready to head back to your mom and Paul's?"

Percy looked back at the camp.

"Let's go." They headed down the hill together.

Percy Jackson didn't look back.

Finis.

"End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path. One that we all must take."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

-Emily Bronte

"We loved with a love that was more than love."

-Edgar Allan Poe

To All My Readers,

So this is it.

This is the end.

I understand that you don't have to read this but I had to write one final letter to my readers, say one last goodbye. This three-and-a-half-year journey I've been on is finally ending. This chapter of my life is ending and that's kind of a big deal. So, read on if you'd like. But you don't have to.

I don't think a lot of people understand the power of fanfiction. They think it's just obsessive fans with unoriginal ideas so they steal from their favorite tv shows, movies, or books. For me, fanfiction is so much more than just the Percy Jackson fandom. It's a community of broken people who are struggling to get better while simultaneously wanting to help everyone else get better.

Writing these stories helped to form me into the person I am today. This community of dreamers, believers, writers, creators inspires me daily. I can say without a doubt that the most formative decision I have made in my life was to publish Heart by Heart. Writing that story gave me a voice, but beyond that, it gave me courage. It gave me strength.

I don't know how many of you have been with me all the way. I realize I probably lost a lot of people in the wasteland which was the two years I barely updated this story. And I apologize for that. You deserved an author who would finish the story in a timely manner. Unfortunately, I wasn't that author. But for those who have been in this thing for the long haul, thank you. And for those of you who are reading this story for the first time, thank you as well.

It means a lot to know that people are reading my words.

So here's a list of "Thank You"s I want to share:

Thank you to my first reviewers of Heart by Heart. The initial response was overwhelming and let me know that I was a decent enough writer. It gave me the strength to keep writing when I was doubting my self worth. If you hadn't left a review, I would have had no confidence and would have never finished that story. And I don't know where I'd be right now if I never finished that story.

Thank you to anyone who ever reviewed, favorited, or followed any of my stories. You are all such lovely, kind, and beautiful people. I am lucky to have received nothing but the highest of compliments and the kindest of criticism. I didn't deserve it at all. Let's face it, some of those chapters in my stories were the cheesiest things you've ever read. But thank you. When I was having really rotten days I would read those reviews and they always made me smile.

Thank you to anyone who ever messaged or emailed me. So many of you shared your souls with me and I'm so sorry that I wasn't able to help you more. Once upon a time I thought I could heal everyone, I thought I could fix the world. But as I grew up, I realized that I couldn't do that. So, all I wanted to be was a listener and a friend. And in turn, you listened to me. Thank you for sharing your beautiful words with me and the stories which are written on your hearts. I'm not the "amazing" person you all made me out to be, I'm such a flawed individual but you trusted me none the less. And that means a lot.

Thank you to everyone who said I couldn't do it. Who said that this was stupid. Who tried to stop me. I'm laughing at you right now.

Thank you to my friends I made on here. I'm sorry for losing touch with you. I'm sorry for never writing back. I'm really bad at that. But know that each and every one of you has a special place in my heart. Our conversations were magnificent.

So, there you have it folks.

Thank you for this adventure. Thank you for sticking with me. Three and a half years ago, I was just a girl wanting to tell a story. And you let me do just that. I hope something I wrote helped you in some way. And now this story has ended. Hopefully, the next time you read one of my stories it will be at a bookstore.

Remember, you decide the tale you tell.

Love,

Luna-Incendia14