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Invisibility.
What a power.
The ability to go unseen and do whatever you want. The capability of not getting caught by the naked eye. But is it really a superior ability? Yes, it has the potential to make one more stealthy, but it doesn’t make sounds disappear. Invisibility is the refraction of light and blending into the surroundings, but it doesn’t mean you can’t alter the environment.
To sneak past monsters, eavesdrop on conversations, and increase self-reliance to a dangerous degree—all sensible, right? Except for the part where it’s given to a prepubescent child. Even the smartest ones would do something unethical—peek into someone’s private business, gather all the juicy gossip.
But it doesn’t make anyone intangible. It doesn’t stop demigods, with their superior skills and reflexes honed by training, from sensing that something is off. JUst because it is nt visible doesnt mean its not there. What was the goddess of wisdom thinking when she gave a 12-year-old an invisibility hat- who for all interest and purposes was a pre-teenage girl- a smart preteen is worse, right?
Annabeth, on the other hand, was ecstatic. Here was something she could use. She kept getting picked on because she only had her smarts to win capture the flag. She used it to spy on enemy movements and to sneak attacks on monsters. She forgot one important fact: invisibility does not make one intangible, it doesnt have the property of a shadow, but shadows can still be seen and felt but the coolness of the area. She is still there, just unseen. It doesn’t make her presence disappear. People can still feel something is off. For demigods so attuned to their senses, this is unsettling. And if someone knows someone is invisible, can’t they lay their own trap? Provide false information?
The ability to use the cap to go unseen has proven to be both useful and utterly useless. It didn’t even work when she wanted it the most. Five years she had this cap, and the one time Annabeth betrayed angered her mother, the magic was taken from the gift. How is that fair? Why is the goddess of wisdom acting so illogically rashly? Of course, being her daughter means she is not suicidal enough to ask these questions.
It was during such a point in the day that Annabeth was invisible—performing reconnaissance for capture the flag, the next evening—not realizing that she was about to get a taste of pain that could only have been avoided if she had been a little more careful and not involved herself in others’ business.
But, as they say, hindsight is 20/20.
"It was the night before the capture the flag game. The Ares team had convened for a strategy session, and between all the jeering and insults, a semblance of a plan was formed. Enough that Annabeth, who was hiding behind a tree and listening attentively while invisible, grew worried that their plan might actually pose a threat—minuscule as it may be.
She might have to tweak her plans so that her side would win, and she moved back toward her cabin to plan and sleep.
The next night, the game started as chaotically as always—slashing and stabbing between comrades. Friendly stabbing, mind you. The game is meant to hone the skills and reflexes of the demigods—a simulation for encountering real-world monsters. How to deal with monsters when they attack in groups, and in the wilderness.
It does not teach how to fight in the real world, because the real world has cities, and monsters are usually hidden deep within them. Regardless, capture the flag remains the crowd’s favorite.
Annabeth knows her plans are followed to a tee. All of them are afraid of her, which she likes. What one does for their reputation—though she doesn’t realize that her reputation exists largely because of Percy, who is the only one who can take any nonsense from her.
Annabeth loves her boyfriend, but he is always so dense sometimes—it’s infuriating how much he gets on her nerves. He keeps relying on his powers and is the most impulsive human to exist. He always has that troublemaking look down to a science, and it’s a miracle he hasn’t been turned into a shrub by their divine menaces.
She knows that the enemy’s flag is defended by a rookie and a cripple. Now, she has nothing against disabilities, but that will not stop her from going easy on both of the defenders—which she is sure is appreciated by the blind daughter of Ares.
(Oh, Annabeth, did you really forget rule one: never underestimate your opponent ?)
So Annabeth used her invisibility cap to trek through the forest toward the flag. Now, usually she always sends teams of three members for retrieval, but she found that a waste of resources, so she went herself.
(Oh, Annabeth, in your pride, did you forget why there is always a teammate to back you up ?)
But no—Annabeth has an invisibility cap, and she is a veteran of the wars. She can handle two measly campers."
"She reaches near the position and distracts James Campbell, the son of Nike, and Credella Mason, the daughter of Ares. Both of them are stationed near the flag, though not directly on top of it, with clear sightlines to both the flag and any incoming force—again, a point in Annabeth’s favor due to her invisibility. She uses the tried-and-true method of distracting the enemy by providing something else—a diversion for James to check out. Annabeth hypothesized that it would be James who would leave, and Credella would stay because of her impairment.
The daughter of wisdom observes what sort of weapons they have on them. James is equipped with standard camp weapons from the armory. Credella has a spear, which must be a gift from her father, and it makes sense—it is enchanted to function as a walking stick as well. She doesn’t know how well Credella fights, as she’s not allowed during the times when they practice with the blind daughter of Ares. She hopes her blindness impairs her fighting, but that is also a ridiculous thought. Still, she hopes it does this time. She doesn’t intend to fight her anyway—just sneak the flag past her guard, and she’s home free.
What Annabeth forgets is that blindness means the other senses are heightened to make up for the impairment. While they can’t see who or what it is, they know something is there. Credella senses the same presence she felt yesterday—something is spying on them. How fortunate. She gets to stab a monster.
As said before, they don’t know who is coming. The most standard assumption is a monster. It’s not like the invisible leader would just leave her team and come for the flag. No why would one assume that.
"It was too late—the presence shifted, and Credella reacted.
Annabeth didn’t understand what happened.
One moment she was calculating angles, timing her next step, already tasting victory—and the next, something punched through her chest with a force that didn’t feel real. There was no clean impact, no sharp cinematic moment. Just a wet, crushing intrusion, like her body had been split open from the inside.
For a second, she didn’t feel pain.
Then it came.
It bloomed—slow, hot, and all-consuming—spreading from the center of her chest outward, flooding her ribs, her throat, her skull. Her breath hitched, but it didn’t come back. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, irreversibly wrong.
She tried to inhale.
Nothing.
Her lungs refused to move and make her inhale. Or worse—they filled.
A thick, choking warmth crawled up her throat, and suddenly she was coughing—no, not coughing—convulsing, her body trying to expel something it couldn’t. Blood spilled past her lips in broken, bubbling gasps, dark and heavy, splattering the forest floor she couldn’t even see properly anymore.
The spear.
There was a spear in her.
Right through her chest.
Her hands moved too late, grasping weakly at the shaft, fingers slick almost instantly. She couldn’t feel her grip. Couldn’t feel much of anything except that spreading heat and the suffocating pressure inside her lungs.
She tried to scream.
It came out as a wet gurgle.
Panic set in—not sharp and loud, but deep and animalistic. Her body thrashed weakly, instinct overriding thought. She couldn’t breathe. Gods—she couldn’t breathe.
Air wouldn’t come in.
Blood wouldn’t stop coming out.
Her vision blurred, the world tilting as her strength bled out onto the ground beneath her. Every breath she tried to take only made it worse—pulling more liquid into her lungs, drowning her from the inside.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
She was Annabeth Chase. She had a plan.
She always had a plan.
Another attempt to inhale—another choking, bubbling failure. Her chest spasmed violently, pain tearing through her as her body fought a losing battle it didn’t understand.
She couldn’t even call for help.
No one could see her.
No one would come.
The realization settled heavier than the pain.
Invisible.
Alone.
Dying.
Her movements slowed, then stilled, fingers loosening their useless grip on the spear. The forest sounds carried on around her, indifferent. Somewhere, far away, someone might have been shouting—but it didn’t matter.
Nothing did.
Her last breath never came properly—just a shallow, broken attempt that never quite finished.
And then—
Stillness.
Still, she remained invisible.
What a power.
As for the aftermath—what happened to her, or who found her—that is another story.
This is the pitfall of invisibility, and how one must exercise caution when using it.