Do you ever get that feeling that the whole world has moved on while you're still desperately trying to catch up? And you don't even want to catch up; you have to. It's like you've been asleep for years and you've managed to wake up at the worst possible moment.

That's how it was like, being a tree. Years felt like only moments of half-consciousness. Then someone shook you awake and everything you see around you...it's no longer familiar, even though technically, it's all the same.

Take Annabeth, for instance. She'd been like my little sister before, the smart but inexperienced kid who I'd felt responsible for. I was closer to her than I was to my own mother. When I saw her for the first time after all those years, it was like she was a stranger. She didn't act too different though, thank gods. She still had an intelligent glint in her eyes and talked logic and fought like she'd been born with a dagger. She hadn't changed like Luke.

Luke. I hadn't believed it when Annabeth and Percy first told me. Percy spat out his name like a poisonous cough drop. Annabeth let it slip out like a sad secret she didn't want to keep. He's a traitor, a minion of Kronos. He's bad, he's evil, he should be dead. I'd heard it all too many times, but truthfully, it hadn't actually registered as reality. It was like...I don't know. I kept thinking that even if he'd chosen the wrong side, he'd realize what he was doing when he saw me.

It was stupid. He was unchangeable. Whatever had made him join Kronos was planted so deep inside him that I'd never be able to uproot it. I started realizing that when I saw, with my own eyes, what he'd done to Annabeth. He'd tricked her into holding up the sky. A single teenage demigod, and not just any demigod at that. The demigod who had been a part of his family. You promised you'd never leave us! I wanted to scream, You promised we'd take care of each other! I was mad. I was really, really mad. All that fury came out as bravado, which was good, because deep down inside, I was afraid too. No matter what he'd become, this servant of the Titans had once been the Luke I'd known. Could I really face him in battle?

I found out soon enough. While Percy, idiot that he is, attacked Atlas himself, I charged at Luke. I don't know why, exactly. I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I would never become like him. He might've been my friend before, but now, he meant nothing to me.

It was surprisingly easy to fight him. Frighteningly easy, actually. It was as if he'd been my enemy all along. I knew him well enough to interpret his sword and Aegis helped for sure. But I was still uncertain inside. I knew I couldn't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, I'd remember what he'd once been and that would be it. I tried immersing myself completely in battle, and for a while, it seemed to work. It could have been years, it could have been seconds – I don't know – but suddenly, I was aware that Atlas was under the sky while I was still fighting Luke. It was like I'd just come back from tree-form all over again. Everyone else had done what they had to do and I was still struggling. I wanted to get this over with. I wanted this done for. Or better yet, I wanted to wake up and discover that this was all a dream. I hated this. Why wouldn't it just end?

The battle adrenaline was wearing away. My body was throbbing, my head was spinning, my bones were aching... It was all too much. Tears sprung up in my eyes. Luke looked about as awful as I felt. His face was sweaty and pale and a bloody gash ran down his chest. Had I made that? For one second, I felt terrible. Then Luke lunged. It happened so fast I can't remember what I actually did, but somehow I found myself with my spear pointed at Luke's throat, trembling all over. The silence was so acute it was painful.

"Well?" Luke's voice almost broke my resolve. It was scared, desperate. I'd never heard him sound like that. The sadness and hopelessness were threatening to engulf me. This was it. I couldn't keep it up after this.

NO! a part of me shrieked, You can't give into him now, Thalia! Not after everything he's done! He took advantage of Annabeth! He lied to you! The thought sent a fresh surge of fury pulsing through my body, sweeping away every other emotion. I dug my spear a little deeper into his throat. "Don't kill him!" Annabeth's voice sounded distant, as if I was at the bottom of a well and she was calling from the top. "He's a traitor!" my voice shook with anger, "A traitor!" And he was. He was, he was, he was. For the first time since I'd been told about it, I believed. Luke Castellan, my friend, my family, was a traitor. "We'll bring Luke back," Annabeth was literally begging now, "To Olympus. He'll...he'll be useful." Luke's lip curled in disdain. "Is that what you want, Thalia? To go back to Olympus in triumph? To please your father?" The way he said it made it sound like a huge offence. For a moment, I was stumped. My anger evaporated as quickly as it had come. What did I want? I hadn't even realized I had a choice. Did I want my father or did I want Luke? What I really wanted was to be back with the old Annabeth and Luke, running across the country on our own and actually belonging. That was all I'd ever –

Just then, Luke made a grab for my spear.

It was instinct. My foot kicked out as if on its own accord and before I knew it, Luke Castellan was tumbling down the cliff, his face reflecting nothing but abject fear.

"NO!"

The shock seemed impossible to get over, but once I'd struggled past it, Annabeth's scream seemed to echo from everywhere. No, Luke couldn't have just fallen. No, I couldn't have been the one to push him. No, it couldn't all be my fault. No... No... No...

But he did fall. But I did push. But it is my fault.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I was crying. I'd murdered Luke Castellan. I was a murderer, and now one of my best friends was never coming back.

The sorrow was pulling me apart inside. And yet, there was a twisted, horrible part of me that was thinking that maybe, what I'd done was the right thing.

I didn't know what was worse: the fact that I'd killed Luke, or the fact that I thought he deserved it.