{ p o l a r i z e d } | clio + calypso

Clio frowns. "I miss her, Calypso. She belongs here, with us, not in a box somewhere." And it's true — she does belong here. She shouldn't be dead right now; she should be standing her at Calypso's side, a full-fledged warrior and instructor. Percy was always meant for more than the Hunger Games.

Calypso nods slowly. "I know," she says. Her voice is like gravel when she speaks; grave and hard like stone. "She thought she was being brave. She thought that she was being a hero when she volunteered for Ares. But Ares wasn't family — she was just a childhood friend." Ares's name leaves a bitter taste in Calypso's mouth. She wishes the girl never existed, never met Percy all those years ago. Percy would have let her die otherwise.

"It's part of why she died, too. It isn't because she wasn't strong enough. She was trying to be a hero when she saved Stevie Masinova," she goes on, looking down at her shoes. But then she looks back up and meets Clio's eyes. Calypso's seem almost empty except for a little light of determination and hope that Clio won't make the same mistake.

"There's another lesson, Clio. Don't try to be a hero when you can't afford it," Calypso tells her. "You don't always have to be one of the good guys."