Yo yo amigos how's it hanging? It's September. Ya know what that means? It's neARLY HALLOWEEN!

Ready to be spooky, yall?

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Chapter 21

Percy XIV

Percy ran a grubby hand over his face, and breathed out as slowly as he could. He was tucked between two rocks, and had dragged another off onto the top, effectively creating a little shelter with only one opening, which Percy was watching as closely as a hawk.

He just needed to catch his breath.

He was breathing too shallowly, too quickly.

That house had done something to him; he felt like he'd had sand poured over him: his skin was gritty, like it was covering him, in his eyes and in his mouth.

Percy took one last deep sigh, leaning backwards on to the spiky rocks, wrapping his arm around his leg comfortingly. He refocused. He could feel the Phlegthon nearby, a solid presence, flowing lightly in his mind, and absently gripped it with his other hand. He broke the banks of it and made it trickle across the ground. The closer it got, the louder the thumping in Percy's head got. He hadn't had a nosebleed from using his powers in a while, and he hoped he wouldn't now. He saw the river come round a corner and clenched his fist, halting it instantly, before lifting it, a wobbling column waving precariously.

With a lot of maneuvering, he got it underneath a large boulder and lifted it up, and shakily carried it over. With a grunt, he dropped it in front of his hiding place, and let the river return.

Now in a smaller space, Percy relaxed a little. It was just him in here. There was enough light to see, his eyes were open and there was one way in, which was now a difficult way in for anything short of a titan.

Percy slowly closed his eyes. Though at first they flickered open every few seconds, at the smallest noise or sound, Percy dropped off to sleep soon, thanking Morpheus as he went.

...

Percy had smashed his hand into the rock before he even realised he was awake. He backed up with a jerk of his head, his leg twitching up to kick something. Percy was tense for a few seconds before sinking down a bit further.

He had dreamt about Annabeth. He couldn't remember what had actually happened in the dream, he just remembered Annabeth holding him, her breath on the back of his neck, her curly hair trailing over his shoulder, and shining gold in the sun...

Percy couldn't help the smile that forced its way out. It was impossible not to think of her and cheer up.

He crawled round until he was facing the boulder and pushed it. He felt ready to go back out now. He... He had needed that break. Just to cut it all out and remember what was important, what he was fighting for, who he was fighting for.

Percy elbowed his way through the small gap he had created and struggled out. Outside, a wandering hellhound nearby froze in its tracks. In the small passage, it looked like a tank. Percy sighed as it reared back, looking like it was about to pounce on him.

He turned his body to the right, exposing his left shoulder, remembering Nyx's words. Upon seeing the tattoo there, it tilted its head, reminding Percy of Mrs O'Leary.

Percy wasn't stupid; he could feel the power radiating off of his arm. He wasn't sure if it was reassuring or disturbing, but hey, the hellhound sure could feel it too.

Percy walked over to it as it lowered its head. He stopped, cautiously taking a few steps forward.

"Stand up?" He offered wearily.

It complied.

Percy huffed out a snort of disbelief. It had obeyed him. The blessing was amazing. The hellhound didn't seem too happy with it either, its red eyes boring holes through Percy.

Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck Percy; he walked up to it, and pointed in the opposite direction. In the direction of the doors.

"Go down there. Kill as many as you can." He told it with a smirk, looking it dead in the eye.

It stood, growling harshly at Percy, its lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing canines as long as Percy's forearms.

"Go on." Percy shrugged simply, going so far as to give it a push. It didn't do anything, of course, it was like trying to move a wall, but it got the message across.

Annabeth had inspired him with newfound confidence. And he had realised just how close he was to the end. His way out was literally in sight. He was going to make it. The house had affected him, no doubt, but he had made it through, he had made it out, and it was over. He had done that. No one else. He was capable and he was strong. The river was wrong.

He didn't have his swords in his hands: he didn't even have his hands near them. He could feel the hellhound's pulse getting quicker; should it attack, he would feel when it came to a crescendo, and could have it on the ground in a second.

The hellhound took a step back before bounding off, paws thundering. Percy turned and scaled the higher ground next to him, peeking his head over the top to watch its process.

It was like a truck ramming through the edge of the crowd, puffs of gold trailing in its wake. Heads were turning towards the suicide mission Percy had forced it on, giving him time to slide down the side and duck behind a rock. The terrain from him to the doors was practically flat now, a couple boulders here and there. Good for cover.

He poked his head out again, just in time to see a cyclops swing at it, felling it with one blow. It had taken out about twentyish monsters. Not a single dent had been made. He ducked back. He had no idea what he was planning in his head, but as soon as a vague outline formed, he was ready.

He could wait for Damasen, then go round the edges, keep luring hellhounds out to be distractions, get to the doors and go from there. He didn't know if his tattoo would work on any other monsters. And he guessed there was always the risk that someone would see his other tattoo underneath, his SPQR one.

Percy dimly thought about his mother's reaction to all the new ink on his skin.

Or he could wait for Damasen, then get on Maia. Damasen was a giant, there would be some kind of respect from other monsters, they would move for him. If Percy laid on top of Maia, out of sight, they might get out without even causing a fuss.

Part of Percy wanted to fight though. He wanted to charge into the army, swords flashing and take out as many as he could. These things had killed so many people. The least he could do was stop them killing more; he didn't know if he could excuse himself for not killing them now if somehow they showed up later, in the middle of a fight and hurt someone he cared about. If one of them hurt Annabeth and he could have stopped it... He'd never forgive himself.

He sat there for a long time, planning out paths and tactics, how he could use everything available to help him. He just couldn't believe he was almost there.

He was almost home.

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I'm back in school and I'm so tired it's actually ridiculous. And I'm lazy so I had to do all my summer homework the night before.

We keep in being asked what we want to be when we grow up. And I wanna go to uni and be a writer. But ya can't make a living outta that, so my current goal is to be a lecturer.