Terror. Disgust.
I don't know.
It's a bit of a toss-up when you wake up covered in blood.
I don't know who's blood this is either – in fact, I can barely remember anything of the last twenty-four hours: since yesterday morning, it's all a blank.
Years of training has prepared me sufficiently that I don't go into shock right away. Instead I scan my surroundings for immediate threats. It's mostly dark were I am (where ever that may be), the surface I'm lying on cold and uncomfortable. I push myself to my knees, then to my feet, almost falling. Several tentative steps later, my outstretched hands brush against a wall. It's stone, rough and jagged, but dry. The steady drip-dripping of water reaches my ears – but that sounds as though it's quite a way off.
Water meant something to me, I can remember, it had something to do with – with – and then I get my next shock.
I can't quite remember who I am.
I can remember that I spent years training to fight and survive. I can remember that I'm a demigod, I know that I can pull a perfect somersault. I was on the move for a while, but then I settled down somewhat.
What I don't know is where I trained; who my godly parent is, let alone who my mortal parent is; who patched me up when I botched the flip (though I know I complained about it); why I was moving, or why I settled down. The memories should be there, but every time I reach for them they slip out of my grasp like a bar of soap.
I can't even remember my name or age.
A sudden noise off to my right makes me reach instinctively for the weapon at my hip, the blood on my skin cracking and peeling. My sword is gone.
Running seems to be my only option now. Unfortunately, I can barely see my hand in front of my face, and I'm not sure my legs would hold me.
A faint light appears around the corner, and a fragment of memory ignites within me. I know that light was even more important to me than water, and if I strain hard I can hear laughter, a teasing voice – sunlight gleaming off fine hair – blond hair? Then it's gone and I slam my hand against the rough surface beside me, half expecting the jolt of pain to bring back the image. It doesn't. In fact, the jolt of pain doesn't even come.
The source of the light gets close enough that I can see it – her – properly, and again I am struck with the feeling that she was important. The girl standing before me is shorter than I am (this too seems important – were most people taller than me?), maybe twelve or thirteen? Younger than me, I think. A faint silvery glow seems to come from her skin, illuminating her dark eyes and chocolate hair, and making her olive-brown skin stand out against the darkness. She smiles sadly at me.
"You need to come with me now. He's waiting. They both are."
A small package of grief bursts open in my chest, although I cannot tell why. I hope I remember who 'they' are before I meet them – and getting rid of this coating of blood would be nice, too. My confusion must show in my expression, as the girl's eyes soften and she reaches up to touch my cheek. I ready myself for her fingers to go through my cheek without quite knowing why I do, but her hand is warm and soft.
"Are you ready?"
Are you ready? The words cause another section of memory to blaze to life: I'm standing in a desert, the sun hot on the back of my neck, one hand on my sword and my determined expression mirrored on the blond boy's face. The mouth of a cave yawns hungrily by our feet – there's something down there, something bad. Yes. He smiles at me and I smile back. We jump into the cave together, and the vision ends. I'm shaking.
"Are you ready?" Her expression is unreadable. I nod, unable to talk owing to a large lump in my throat, and she turns and walks slowly back in the direction she came.
Having nothing else to do, and no other form of light (I don't think I like the dark), I follow.
We pass the source of the drip-dripping, and I crane my neck to try and see the cause of the noise, but by the time I realise I can't, my guide is already almost out of sight. I pick up my pace until I'm walking right behind her again.
After a while, the darkness lifts somewhat, a curious green light seeping in from the end of the tunnel. It unsettles me, this light, but at the same time it makes me feel at home, as though this is where I belong.
Then we round a final corner and the cave opens out into a throne room, scones spilling the same green light across walls made of jet, smooth and shining. A throne of the same material – or is it obsidian? I feel like my sister would know. My… other sister? I can't tell where the thought came from, but I know it's true. She had a thing for stones, I think.
There's someone sitting in the chair, but my guide makes no move to cross the tiled floor to greet them. When I glance at her, she shakes her head. A tear winds its way down her cheek and she reaches up on tiptoe to kiss my forehead.
Another parcel of sorrow explodes inside me.
"I can't go any further. Good luck, brother." Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, "I love you."
Then she seems to fade away, slowly disappearing from my vision – and, I know, from my life for the last time. She shouldn't have been here at all, and yet she was – and I couldn't remember her.
With trembling fingers, I step out across the open space. I don't stop until I reach the throne, which I kneel in front of, then raise my head to look into the eyes empty of the man reclining on it. He regards me impassively, and I remember again the blood over my skin, my clothes.
He doesn't seem to mind, though, merely waving a hand over my head.
It's as though his gesture was a match in a field of dry corn. Memories burn their way back to existence, light filling the darkest corners of my mind. I know exactly who I am.
But that isn't the important part now. I watch again as the blond boy and I plunge into the darkness. We're looking for a friend - she went this way, didn't she? Yes, and she never came back. I watch as we navigate past piles of treasures, as we get steadily more worried. I want to close my eyes as we spring the trap, but watching this inside my head I can't. A snap – the boy looks up – I try and pull us back – but it's too late. A horde of fur and feathers and razor claws and fangs descend upon us, scratching and clawing, howling, screaming. Out of the corner of my eye, just before the world collapses into a sea of chaos, I see Lou crawling towards another exit to the cave – this one no longer guarded by these creatures. Then I am slashing, stabbing, fighting for my life. We'll get out of this – we always do. Lou escapes; she'll be fine. I know she will be.
One of the creatures lands a gash to my upper arm, almost making me drop my sword. I grit my teeth against the pain and lash out at it – then my blood freezes in my veins as I hear a sharp cry from my left. I whip my head around in time to see the blond boy – my blond boy – fall, and he is instantly set upon. He screams once more, then is silent.
I scream. The cave erupts around me, bones spilling from the ground, my sword slashing – every time I kill one of these monsters, three more take its place.
After what seems like eternity, I reach the spot where my blond boy fell. Blood is coating every inch of my body, numerous lacerations covering my exposed skin. I'm getting weak from the blood loss, and I know I won't make it out alive.
Using the last of my energy, I construct a cage of bones around us, around me and his body – it won't hold for long, but then again, neither will I.
Collapsing to my knees beside him, I gather him up in my arms. His face, though covered in blood, is still recognisable as the one I fell for.
The cage around us splinters and I close my eyes, holding him close.
Then, knowing this is the end, knowing how much he loved it, I start to sing.
"You are my sunshine…"
The cage crumbles away.
"My only sunshine…"
The horde surrounds us.
"You make me happy,
When skies are grey…"
Pain explodes in little bursts all over my body, and my vision fades to grey. My voice dies, and I force out one final line.
"You'll never know, dear…"
Then everything goes black.
Tears are pouring down my chin and I wrap my arms tightly around myself, trying to keep myself from falling apart. I don't have to look at my father to know that he saw everything.
Hades lets me cry for a time, making no move to comfort me; this, however, feels right. I'm dead, and death is not sympathetic.
When I finally pull myself together and look up at him, he smiles at me. "You did well."
Nothing else needs to be said.
I know I could be reborn, could try for the Isle of the Blest, but I choose not to, and he understands.
A door opens on to the left of the throne, leading deeper into the palace of the dead. I know that my rooms will be along there: a child of Hades can live in the palace should they choose to do so.
But there's something I have to do first, to ensure that it's worth staying.
When I step out of the palace, he's waiting for me, like I knew he would be. Will holds out his hand to me and I take it, smiling even through the fresh tears that are falling.
The blood has vanished from my clothes at some point, probably whilst I was with my father. I'm glad: Will would hate it if I turned up covered in blood.
We embrace, and I lead him back inside. He could stay in Elysium, but he's not leaving my sight again, even in death.
I think that's what Bianca was trying to tell me, appearing like she did.
Even when you leave everything else behind, there will always be one thing that you come back for, one thing you come back to.
And I'm not letting him go.
So… what did you think? Read and review, please! Or just read, I don't care! But I like reviews!
I'm sorry I barely ever update any more!
And yes, in my opinion this qualifies as a happy ending.
Fi