“My dear satyr,” Pan said. “I tried to tell the world, two thousand years ago. I announced it to Lysas, a satyr very much like you. He lived in Ephesos, and he tried to spread the word.” Annabeth’s eyes widened. “The old story. A sailor passing by the coast of Ephesos heard a voice crying from the shore, ‘Tell them the great god Pan is dead.’” “But that wasn’t true!” Grover said. “Your kind never believed it,” Pan said. “You sweet, stubborn satyrs refused to accept my passing. And I love you for that, but you only delayed the inevitable. You only prolonged my long, painful passing, my dark
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