As the raft carries him away she can't help but feel he's been a little too selfish. Something inside her, that thing that is normally hollow and has recently been filling with a little bit of hope, cracks and breaks and collapses on itself and crumbles to dust.

It is not hollow anymore. It is nothing but dust. Her heart is nothing but dust.

What about her? Why'd he choose that Annabeth instead of her?

But this is her fate and all she has left to do is go about her days and wait for the next hero to come.

And that she does. But not before doing something she feels is appropriate for the situation.

She curses that witch Annabeth. She curses her with all her being, because it is all that girl Annabeth's fault.

And as she curses that girl with all her being she feels a little bit of the dust dissolve.

If it makes the dust dissolve, she thinks, any curse is well worth it.


She can't let him go.

Every waking minute is spent seeing him. His dark messy hair in the shadows and his glinting eyes in the greens of the sea.

She thinks of their time together as she nursed his wounds and he drooled in his sleep and how she couldn't help but fall in love all over again. From past experience she learns that dwelling on the time together and how it is over normally helps in the process of healing.

But she can't seem to let this go.

And as she stares out at The Place—that place where every hero abandons her—at the horizon with the red skies mixed in with beautiful salmon pinks and the sand tinted with the orange sun and the dark blue-green sea, she takes in nothing.

Instead, she notices the Crash. The boy who has knocked onto her island in a great big clanging of metal. It is another hero whom she is destined to love.

And this time she will learn from her mistakes. She will not love him.

Calypso cannot love him.