You died.

Plain and simple.

And truthfully? Not many people cared...

There was no golden sacrifice, no glowing legend to paint your name into camp history. Just the fact that you weren’t there anymore.

They held a funeral because they had to. Not because anyone wanted to.

There were no garlands, no flowers, no glowing torches lining the hill. Just a coffin. Plain, unvarnished, like it had been dragged out of the shed at the last minute.

The campers stood around, not in tight clusters of grief, but in loose, awkward groups — shuffling their feet, staring at the ground, whispering things that didn’t sound like mourning. They weren’t crying. They weren’t silent. It was just… begrudging obligation.

The Seven were there, but only because Chiron had made them. Jason’s jaw was tight, Piper kept looking anywhere but at the coffin, Annabeth’s fingers drummed impatiently against her leg. Percy’s eyes had no tears — just guilt hidden behind irritation. He didn’t like you, but it still felt wrong.

Grover plucked absently at his reed pipes, but no song came. Will stared at the grass, chewing at his lip, like he was waiting for permission to leave. Nico stood back, arms crossed, the only one whose anger looked sharp instead of tired — but even his grief felt begrudging.

The gods stood further away, towering figures with faces set in stone. They weren’t here because they wanted to be. They were here because it would have looked bad if they weren’t. Zeus’s frown wasn’t mourning — it was annoyance. Hera looked bored. Even Dionysus, normally snide, had nothing left to say.

Just a coffin. Just a name spoken aloud and met with silence.

And that was it. That was your legacy.

A funeral no one wanted to attend.

You woke up...in Elysium, what a cruel joke...but what else is there to do? Well...you're pretty sure Lee and few people that actually cared about you were here with you. River Lethe was nearby.