Just between us
I remember it
All to well

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        There is a story hidden inside the wildfires that you would only be lucky to know beforehand. It begins here and now, and it starts, where the sea meets the wildflowers.

        Somewhere, up northeastern in Manhattan, New York, there is a quaint apartment that dwells right in the middle of the city around them. It's once before been described as having so much life. Like even the buildings are always making noise. Everything's constantly moving. There's just so much going on there, that you can never get bored. Especially for Percy Jackson, who gets bored a lot.

        See, to know the story in the burning flames, you must first start with the story of Silviana Duvall and Percy Jackson.

        Well, not start, per se—that whole story was already told throughout a book preceding this one (shameless plug to Wildflowers)—but you should probably know the start of their official relationship, to be exact.

        To summarize Sylvie and Percy's time spent dating, shortly, it was going amazing. Nothing like how Sylvie expected it would—It didn't matter that they were 1,329 miles apart from each other, or in totally different time zones, or busy with their separate lives only made busier by the responsibilities that came with rising age. The couple overcame each obstacle with ease. It was a true testament to their bond that Sylvie and Percy could not only survive monsters, Titans, and enemy half-bloods, but also distance, high school, and only communicating through Iris-messages.

        For the most part.

        Sometime around October, Sylvie flew over to Manhattan. Not to go back to camp, but instead, to surprise Percy in his apartment.

        The moment Sylvie found out she got off of school for three days—some stupid reason like a retreat that her teachers were required to attend—she asked her dad if she could utilize that break by visiting Percy. Conan Duvall was healthy and happy now. There was no reason to say no.

        Sylvie didn't have to see Percy through a rainbow mist, anymore. She was going to see him in person, and it would all become real again.

        Months later, Sylvie would look back on her four-and-a-half day visit to Percy a lot. Percy had been so excited to see her that he wrapped his arms around Sylvie and didn't let go for... well, Sylvie didn't know how long. Time was always so unimportant when she could focus on Percy instead. He hugged her for long enough, and then he kissed her for even longer. Sylvie didn't complain once. In that moment, she was blessed by both Poseidon and Percy Jackson himself. Sylvie would let him kiss her for however long he liked.

        (Although, that sentiment wouldn't hold up in court. Sylvie had to admit, it was her that forced them to break apart. But that was only because Sally Jackson and Paul Blofis were there. Sylvie wasn't really a fan of making out in front of her boyfriend's parents.)

        Percy was so ecstatic to have Sylvie back that he begged his mom to let him get out of school too. Of course, Sally said no—School is important, Percy—and Percy whined like a child about it; but, it wasn't really that bad in the end. By the time Sylvie got there, he only had two more days of school to endure, and even then, Sylvie was his from the moment he got out (except for when Sylvie met up with Annabeth that one time).

        Percy took it upon himself to show Sylvie his favorite spots in Manhattan—of course, she'd been throughout the city during the war that raged on there, but now she actually got to see it. Now she understood the liveliness of it, and why Percy loved it so much. Sylvie let Percy try to teach her how to ride a skateboard, even if every attempt of hers was a fail. She could now witness the street artists that Percy found entirely annoying, but Sylvie thought weren't that different from the ones in New Orleans. She got dragged from shop to shop by Percy so that they could buy their costumes for Halloween together.

        (Percy wanted to match, even if they wouldn't be in the same state for the holiday. Sylvie was so fond of him that she supported his idea of being a fishstick while she dressed as Applejack from My Little Pony. It was stupid, because only they really understood the inside joke there, but he looked so excited about it that Sylvie couldn't find it stupid at all.)

        Sylvie enjoyed the city, but she also really enjoyed the comfort of his apartment. Since they weren't confined by the restraints of a misty call anymore, she could help Percy with his homework (not that she was much help, but Percy seemed really fond of the fact Sylvie tried). They could watch movies together, laying in a heap of intertwined limbs rather than forcibly separated, and argue in person about which Halloween movie was better. Because, let's face it, Percy's choice of Spookly the Square Pumpkin was awful.

        Sylvie even got to play board games with Percy, Sally, and Paul all together. The time spent with her boyfriend's parents was just as enjoyable as the time spent with Percy alone—Don't let Percy hear that, though. He'd get offended. Probably because he wouldn't understand Sylvie was just so happy there, she couldn't pick a favorite moment.

        Except maybe:

        There was one that came to mind. Where it was just Sylvie and Percy alone. Sylvie would be going home soon, so they were trying to soak up the time they had left in the comfort of each other. They were sat on his bedroom floor—for some silly reason—and they were talking. The conversation was nothing in particular, nothing of real substance, but Sylvie still hung onto Percy's voice like it would be the last time she heard it. She had no complaints about listening intently to Percy as he did nothing but ramble on.

        Until he surged forward and kissed Sylvie gratefully.

        Sylvie made a muffled noise of surprise before she soon kissed him back. She had to grip the carpet below her, so as not to fall backward with how Percy leaned her.

        When he pulled away, he touched his forehead against Sylvie's for a moment. Sylvie remembered how he whispered, "Thank you."

        She remembered smiling as Percy leaned back away. She remembered huffing a quiet laugh. She remembered, "I didn't even do anything."

        "You're you," Percy had said, as if that was an answer.

        "You're a nuisance," Sylvie had responded, flustered.

        Percy never even replied to that, he just stared at Sylvie for a few more moments.

        Months later, Sylvie would wonder if she would ever again be kissed by Percy just for being herself. If she would ever again be kissed by him at all.

        Months later, Sylvie couldn't help but think that short trip to Manhattan almost felt just as ephemeral as the time she got with Percy as a whole.

        Because now?

        Now Percy was missing.

        It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It really wasn't.

        Sylvie and Percy were so excited because they both started winter break early. They met up at camp on Tuesday, December 15th. They figured they had three weeks together. Then, after the campfire, he kissed Sylvie goodnight, went back to his cabin, and in the morning, he was gone. Sylvie and the others searched the whole camp. They contacted his mom. They tried to reach him in every way they knew how.

        Nothing. Percy just disappeared.

        It wasn't until three days later that anything happened—Three new half-bloods showed up. And Sylvie Duvall felt hope for the very last time.

        The appearance of Jason Grace (and Leo Valdez and Piper McLean, by association) was supposed to bring Sylvie to Percy's location. Hera had said it herself, and despite how much Sylvie disliked the goddess, she at least trusted her not to lie about that.

        The horrible thing was: Sylvie would learn to wish Hera had lied. At first, that's what she and Annabeth thought happened. But it was Hera, and of course, Hera had done something far more cruel.

        She sent Percy Jackson to a camp of Roman half-bloods, switching his place with Jason's, who had truly been a son of Jupiter all along. Zeus's Roman form. The fundamentals of that whole process—the Roman gods still being around because the Greek gods also shifted into them—were lost on Sylvie. She couldn't find herself to care about any of that. She didn't care about Camp Jupiter, or Jason being a "praetor," or the blood-thirsty hatred between Greeks and Romans. There was something much more nasty that caught Sylvie's focus. It made anxiety drown out all the senses in her body.

        As established, Percy was over at Camp Jupiter.

        He was over at Camp Jupiter, with all of his memories stolen from him.

        Memories, that consisted of the first time he kissed Sylvie in an active volcano. Memories, that consisted of Sylvie saying "score" in response to finding out this act of his hadn't been a dream. Memories, that consisted of that fundamental moment changing the trajectory of their relationship forever. Memories, that consisted of Sylvie's smile, her laugh, her eyes, her freckles, her doe-like expression. Memories, that consisted of Sylvie, that he no longer had possession of anymore.

        It was there, with Sylvie Duvall under the impression that she'd been forgotten by Percy Jackson, where she lost it all.

        The thought of being forgotten by your closest loved one was obviously a daunting idea that would shake any person to the core, but the impact struck Sylvie harder than it would for most. She couldn't be forgotten. It was a fear that ran deeper in her body than anything else. It was a fear that set her bones ablaze, like a forest fire coming to destroy the ecosystem that was Sylvie's reason for being.

        Percy once had to reassure her, I could never forget you. He'd even said that he meant it, but had he really?

        He knew more than anyone how afraid Sylvie was of being forgotten. That nightmare of an idea paralyzed her so horribly for so long that she didn't even know how to properly function until she was fourteen years old.

        Now, she felt fourteen all over again. She felt like just a kid, stumbling through life unsure of where she stood with her loved ones. Just a kid fearing that one day, she would be forgotten forever.

        And she was. Being forgotten, that is.

        The realization crushed her. The match caught flame. The fear spread like a wildfire. It burned at her throat, and Sylvie couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe, and of course there were times when she wasn't able to breathe before, but now Sylvie was sure she'd never be able to again.

        Because Percy was gone, and not only that, but he had his memories stripped away from him. The one thing Sylvie couldn't handle happening. The one person Sylvie couldn't handle it happening to. Sylvie was left alone in a burning field of wildflowers, and she couldn't breathe.

        It was surprisingly Leo Valdez, newly claimed son of Hephaestus (newly claimed head counselor at that, because he was also an absolute genius and hero underneath all that comic relief), who found Sylvie amidst her ceaseless panic attack. A part of Sylvie never wanted it to end. It always seemed to be in moments like these where Percy found her. Maybe he could now—could be the only one able to calm her, could hold her, could douse her fears like a wave.

        Percy never came. Percy wasn't here. And even if he was—would he even remember Sylvie at all?

        The answer was unknown to her. Just like Sylvie was probably unknown to Percy. Her breaths sped up. The fire consumed her.

        Leo watched awkwardly for a few moments, trying to decide how to help. In no way, shape, or form was he the person meant for this task. Give Leo some blueprints and a hammer? Sure. He can handle the job of repair man easily. Give Leo a mentally unstable teenage girl deathly afraid of being forgotten who just found out the love of her life possibly forgot her?

        Yeah, not so much.

        "Uh oh," he found himself muttering.

        This was a bad idea. He should probably leave. Leo was all fire and heat—literally—and the last thing Sylvie needed was more fire. That was a saying, wasn't it? You can't fight fire with fire.

        Yeah, well. Leo had to try. It was the least he could do, for the true-hearted head counselor of Demeter, who showed him, Jason, and Piper patience, even when they let her down completely on her early search for Percy. She could've lashed out in frustration or anger or sadness, but she never did. Maybe Sylvie knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of those miserable feelings. Maybe Sylvie knew what it was like to be hated for no reason, maybe even by someone she once loved.

        In a sense, Leo could understand what that was like. Not that he'd ever admit it aloud—he never would, actually—but right now he felt safe enough to acknowledge it.

        Leo wasn't the best option, but he was the only one there, if that counted for anything. Sylvie's incoherent mind could at least register that. There were many people Sylvie lost before Percy—Florian Whitlock, Eurydice Arandel, and even Conan Duvall, to name a few. It never got easier, never convinced Sylvie that she was anything more than a curse. Especially now, when she'd once sworn with absolute confidence that Sylvie Duvall and Percy Jackson could never be another Greek tragedy. She had been so sure back then.

        But the only thing she was sure of now, was that she'd never be able to breathe again, and Leo Valdez would watch her suffocate slowly.

        Time passed.

        Somehow, one week had turned into seven months. Somehow, Sylvie never suffocated. She was constantly suffocating, but she never suffocated. Breathing was a feeble thing these days, with no water to douse the flames of her despair, but it did unfortunately happen.

        Percy's appearance in Sylvie's life didn't, and it only made the days drag on. It only made Sylvie feel like Penelope, waiting twenty years for her beloved Odysseus to return. Percy, like Odysseus, was nowhere near home. He was nowhere near Sylvie.

        (Was he even anywhere near to knowing Sylvie?)

        The only way she could ever feel remotely close to him was by sneaking out to the Poseidon cabin late at night. Sylvie could dangle her feet over the ledge that looked out on Camp Half-Blood's lake. She could dip her toes into the water, and feel herself grow stronger at the touch, due to Poseidon's blessing. She could stare at her reflection, and picture what it would look like if Percy was beside her.

        Then she'd swipe her foot through the image, and the reality would come back to harrowing light for her: Percy Jackson was gone and memoryless, leaving nothing but a burning impression on Sylvie Duvall's heart.

        And so the cabin dedicated to the sea god hadn't been visited by anyone but Sylvie since that wretched day of December 15th. Where the world ended, yet, it had only just begun all the same.

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It was rare
You remember it
All too well