Prompt #013 - Yellow

Prompt # 013 - Yellow

In My Final Moment

Time Frame: The Last Olympian

Pairing: None

POV: Michael Yew

**

“What we do for ourselves dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal.”

-Albert Pine

**

A flash of searing pain and I am down, my back smacking into the hard pavement of the Williamsburg Bridge, and I know I’m not going to get up again.

There is a slash in my chest and I can feel my life slowly ebbing away, trickling to the pavement creating a pool of red around me. Pandemonium has erupted all around me. No one can see me—a giant chunk of steel and cable having fallen loose from one of the towers and dropped near me, shielding my body from all who might heal me. But, being a healer myself, I know it is no use. I am not long for this world, anyhow.

All demigods know it is a good chance we would die before the age of twenty, but in the back of our minds it is always the little voice of human doubt saying: “Not me! I’m too quick and smart for that!”

But I guess it was my time.

I can hear the sonic arrows—the gift from my father I can divvied up among my cabin—soaring high along the bridge, diving into the throngs of monsters that threatened our home.

It was not such a bad way to die, I think—dying to protect those you love. Sure, I had been snarky, sarcastic, rude even…but that didn’t mean I didn’t love each and everyone one of them. At camp, we’re the only family we’ve got. We may quarrel, we may fight, but at the end of the day, it’s us against the evil of the world and everyone else who doesn’t understand.

To die protecting that is not so bad.

I relax into the hard pavement pressing against my back, peering up at the brilliantly blue sky as my vision blurs. The pain is dulling—even distant now. I gaze up on the sun, the bright, brilliant sun. It flickers—yellow and bright and fierce.

Keep fighting. It seems to urge me. Pick up your bow again, Son.

Yes, I agree although my side burns and my arms feel like concrete, my work is not done. Until the last second, I must fight. For each monster I do not kill, could be the one that kills my brothers or my sisters, or any of the other campers that I hold dear.

I struggle to my knees, my vision flickering and whirling wildly. I grasp around and finally feel my hand brush over the shape of my bow. The familiar feel of my fingers closing around its form gives me strength.

I tip my head back once more, feeling the sun warm my face for the last time. I close my eyes, the sun setting the inside of my head aglow with warm, yellow light.

“Father,” I whisper to the sky, “guide my arrow…this one last time…” I weakly notch my last arrow. I can feel my hands shaking as my body loses more blood, more blood, pouring to the pavement like an offering…but I pick my target.

“…guide my arrow…” I manage to move my lips, but no sound escapes…only air…my final breath.

…and I release the arrow.

And as I collapse back to the pavement, my eyes finally closing, I know it found its mark.

~fin~