A/N (I recommend reading this): I'm going to MAKE THIS CLEAR. Just like I mention on my bio page about every other fanfiction I done: I DON'T OWN THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIAN SERIES OR IT'S CHARACTERS as the rights goes to Rick Rioran. Also I suggest you guys start paying attention to the Author notes and my warnings that I left on EVERY chapter of EVERY story.

Sorry if this chapter is too much like the book.

Due to the limited number of characters posted, I'm forced to post only the names of the characters telling their tales in this story. When I get to the House of Hades and Blood of Olympus, I'll list off the first four characters listed in the order they tell their tales. I'll post the pairings if the two of the four characters listed are a pair. Other than that, the Pairings stay the same for this story.

Jason x Piper
Percy x Annabeth
Frank x Hazel

If you haven't figured it out, each of the members of the Prophecy of Seven practically has a position. Keep in mind in the original series Juno started this when she told Percy he was the glue that holds the group together, so I thought to give the rest a title. But no matter what title they have they still depend on each other. Titles will be added for some as the series continue

Jason: Leader of the Group

Piper: Peacekeeper

Leo: Mechanic and Seventh Wheel (by Nemesis)

Percy: Glue that holds everyone together

Hazel: Youngest (Literally and figuratively as the title refers to the fact that even though she has proven herself as one of the seven, Hazel still has much to learn compared to the rest about what she is capable to do that can help the group. Keep in mind Hazel has not master shadow travel or Mist Manipulation yet).

Frank: Muscles

Annabeth: Battle Strategist and Consultant

Warning: Certain ancient Greeknames matches words use of foul language but no foul language was intentionally used. Also I dropped the '& the Olympians' in 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians' as well as replaced the '&' with ':' in the short stories of that part of the series. So if you haven't read them yet read 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Early Adventures' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Sea of Monsters' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Titan's Curse' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Magical Labyrinth' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Stolen Chariot' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Sword of Hades', 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Bronze Dragon' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Last Olympian' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Staff of Hermes' 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Lost Hero' 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Quest for Buford' and 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune' before reading this story as stuff that happened in them will be mentioned. Lastly, any one who wants to do a Demigods and Olympian reads story using 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon' is allowed as long as you inform me about it.

Annabeth's POV Part XII

The tunnel ran straight and smooth, but after my fall, I decided to take no chances. I used the wall for support and tapped the floor in front of me with my crutch to make sure there were no traps.

As I walked, there was that sickly sweet smell that grew stronger and set my nerves on edge. The sound of running water faded behind me. In its place came a dry chorus of whispers like a million tiny voices. They seemed to be coming from inside the walls, and they were getting louder.

I tried to speed up, but I couldn't go much faster without losing my balance or jarring my broken ankle. I hobbled onward, convinced that something was following me. The small voices were massing together, getting closer.

I touched the wall, and my hand came back covered in cobwebs.

Naturally, I yelped when I saw the cobwebs. Then I cursed myself for making a sound.

It's only a web, I told myself. But that didn't stop the roaring in my ears.

I expected spiders. I knew what was ahead: The weaver. Her Ladyship. The voice in the dark. Heck I knew before I even came down the hole from the storage room. But the webs made me realize how close I was.

My hand trembled as I wiped it on the stones. What was I thinking? There was no way I could do this alone.

But it was too late, I told myself. I just have to keep going.

I made my way down the corridor one painful step at a time. The whispering sound got louder behind me until the sounded like millions of dried leaves swirling in the wind. The cobwebs became thicker, filling the tunnel. Soon I was pushing them out of my face, ripping through gauzy curtains that covered me like Silly String.

My heart wanted to break out of my chest and run. I stumbled ahead more recklessly, trying to ignore the pain in my ankle.

Finally, the corridor ended in a doorway filled waist high with old lumber. It looked as if someone had tried to barricade the opening. That didn't bode me well, but I used my crutch to push away as much boards as I could. I crawled over the remaining pile getting a few dozen splinters in my free hand.

On the other side of the barricade was a chamber the size of a basketball court. The floor was done in Roman mosaics, of course. The remains of tapestries hung from the walls. Two unit torches sat in wall scones on either side of the doorway, both covered in cobwebs.

At the far end of the room, the Mark of Athena burned over another doorway. Unfortunately, between me and that exit, the floor was bisected by a chasm fifty feet across. Spanning the pit were two parallel wooden beams, too far apart for both feet, but each too narrow to walk on unless I was an acrobat, which I wasn't, and didn't have a broken ankle, which I did.

The corridor I'd come from was filled with hissing noises. Cobwebs trembled and danced as the first of the spiders appeared: no larger than gumdrops, but plumped and black, skittering over the walls and floor.

I had no idea what kind of spiders they were, only that they were coming for me, and I only had seconds to figure out a plan.

I wanted to sob. I wanted someone, anyone, to be here for me. I wanted Leo with his fire powers, or Jason with his lightning, or Hazel to collapsed the tunnel. Most of all, I wanted Percy. I always felt braver when Percy was with me.

Please be safe, I remember the last thing Percy told me as he clutched my hand before I left with Tiberinus and Rhea Silvia. Come back.

I promised Percy that I would come back to him and our friends, and that no spider will stop me.

I remembered during my last family visit in Boston, a spider was crawling toward my cousin Magnus and me in our uncle's yard near a statue of a viking. I was petrified I didn't know what to do, but Magus took out a match box he borrowed from Uncle Randolph and used it to lit a match and somehow used it to scare the spider away by setting ablaze of it's nest before I put it out before it could burn anything.

I never could understand how Magnus was able to wave a match around without being burned himself, but at the time I was just glad Magnus did that as it scared away the spider.

That's when an idea hit me. But for this plan to work, I'll need something bigger than a match.

The first spiders were almost to the door. Behind them came the bulk of the army—a black sea of creepy-crawlies.

I hobbled to one of the walls scones and snatched up a torch. The end was coated in pitch for easy lighting. My fingers felt like lead, but I rummaged through m backpack and found the matches. I struck one and set the torch ablaze.

I thrust it into the barricade. The old dry wood caught immediately. Flames leaped to the cobwebs and roared down the corridor in a flash fire, roasting spiders by the thousands.

I stepped back from my bonfire, but I doubted I'd killed all of the spiders. They would regroup and swarm again as soon as the fire died.

I stepped to the edge of the chasm.

I shined my light into the pit, but I couldn't see the bottom. Jumping in would be suicide. I could try to cross one of the bars hand over hand, but I didn't trust my arm strength, and I didn't see how I would be able to haul myself up with a full backpack and a broken ankle once I reach the other side.

I crouch and studied the beams. Each had a set of iron eyes hooks along the inside, set at one-foot intervals. Maybe the rails had been the sides of a bridge and the middle planks had been removed or destroyed. But eye hooks? Those weren't for supporting planks. More like…

I glance at the walls. The same kind of hooks had been used to hang the shredded tapestries.

I realized the beams weren't meant as a bridge. They were some kind of loom.

I threw my flaming torch to the other side of the chasm. I had no faith that my plan would work, but I pulled all the string out of my backpack and began weaving between the beams, stringing a cat's cradle pattern back and forth from eye hook to eye hook, doubling and tripling the line.

My hands moved with blazing speed. I stopped thinking about the task and just did it, looping and tying off lines, slowly extending my woven net over the pit.

I forget the pain in my leg and the fiery barricade guttering out behind me. I inched over the chasm. The weaving held my weight. Before I knew it, I was halfway across.

I don't know how I know how to do this. My guess is that it's because of Athena. My mother's skill with useful crafts. Weaving had never seemed particularly useful to me—until now.

I glanced back and saw that my barricade fire was dying. A few spiders crawled in around the edges of the doorway.

Desperately I continued weaving, and finally I made it across. I snatched up the torch and thrust it into my woven bridge. Flames raced along the string. Even the beams caught fire as they'd been pre-soaked in oil.

For a moment, the bridge burned in a clear pattern—a fiery rows of identical owls. Had I really woven them into the string, or was it some kind of magic? I didn't know, but as the spiders began to cross, the beams crumbled and collapsed into the pit.

I held my breath. I didn't see any reason why the spiders couldn't reach me by climbing the walls or ceilings. If they started to do that, I'd have to run for it, and I was pretty sure I couldn't fast enough.

For some reason, the spiders didn't follow. They massed at the edge of the it—a seething black carpet of creepiness. Then they dispersed, flooding back into the burned corridor, almost as if I was no longer interesting.

"Or I passed a test," I said aloud.

My torch sputtered out, leaving me with only the light of my dagger. I realized that I'd left my makeshift crutch on the other side of the chasm.

I felt exhausted and out of tricks, but my mind was clear. My panic seemed to have burned up along with that woven bridge.

The weaver, I thought. I must be close, and I know what was waiting ahead of me.

I made my way down to the next corridor, hoping to keep the weight off my bad foot.

I didn't have far to go.

After twenty feet, the tunnel opened into a cavern as large as a cathedral, so majestic that I had trouble processing everything I saw. I guessed that this was the room from Percy's dream vision, but it wasn't dark. I would guess either Percy wasn't allowed to see what really was in it or that the guardian kept it dark when talking to the giant twins. Either way, the site was now what I expect.

Bronze braziers of magical light, like the gods used on Mount Olympus, glowed around the circumference of the room, interspersed with gorgeous tapestries. The stone floor was webbed with fissures like a sheet of ice. The ceiling was so high, it was lost in the gloom and layers upon layers of spider webs.

Strands of silk as thick as pillars ran from the ceiling all over the room, anchoring the walls and the floor like the cables of a suspension bridge.

Webs also surrounded the centerpiece of the shrine, which was so intimidating that I had trouble raising my eyes to look at it. Looming over me was a forty-foot-tall statue of Athena, which luminous ivory skin and a dress of gold. In her outstretched hand, Athena held a statue of Nike, the winged goddess of victory—a statue that looked tiny from here, but was probably as tall as a real person. Athena's other hand rested on a shield as big as a billboard, with a sculpted snake peeking out from behind, as if Athena was protecting it.

The goddess' face was serene and kindly… and it looked like my mom. I see many statues that didn't resemble my mom at all, but this giant version, made thousands of years ago, made me think that the artist must have met Athena in person. He had captured her perfectly.

"Athena Parthenos," I murmured. "It's really here."

All my life, I wanted to visit the Parthenon. Now I was seeing the main attraction that used to be there—and I was the first child of Athena to do so in millennia.

I realized my mouth was hanging open. I forced myself to swallow. I could have stood there all day looking at the statue, but I had only accomplished half of my mission. Now that I found the Athena Parthenos, I need to rescue it from this cavern. But how?

Strands of web covered t like a gauze pavilion. I suspected that without these webs, the statue would have fallen through the weakened floor long ago. As I stepped into the room, I could see that the cracks below were so wide, I could have lost my foot in them. Beneath the cracks, I saw nothing but empty darkness.

A chill washed over me. Where was the guardian? How could I free the statue without collapsing the floor? I couldn't very well shove the Athena's Parthenos down the corridor that I come from.

I scanned the chamber, hoping to see something that might help. My eyes wandered over the tapestries, which were heart-wrenching beautiful. One showed a pastoral scene so three-dimensional, it could've been a window. Another tapestry showed the gods battling the giants. I saw a landscape of the Underworld. Next to it was the skyline of modern Rome. And in the tapestry to my left…

I caught my breath. It was a portrait of Percy and me kissing underwater last summer at camp after our friends—minus the hunters who were at camp at the time recovering from the Battle of Manhattan—threw us into the canoe lake. It was so lifelike that I wondered if the weaver had been there, lurking in the lake with a waterproof camera.

"How is that possible?" I murmured.

Above me in the gloom, a voice spoke. "For ages I have known you would come, my sweet."

I shuddered. Suddenly I was seven years old again, either hiding under my covers, waiting for the spiders to attack me at night, or for my cousin to scare them off with matches.

The voice sounded just as Percy had described: an angry buzz in multiple tones, a female but not human.

In the web above the statue, something moved—something dark and large.

"I have seen you in my dreams," the voice said, sickly sweet and evil, like the smell in the corridors. "I had to make sure you were worthy, the only child of Athena clever enough to pass my tests and reach this place alive. Indeed, you are her most talented child. This will make your death so much more painful to my old enemy when you fail utterly."

The pain in my ankle was nothing compare to the icy acid now filling my veins. I wanted to run. I wanted to plead for mercy. But I couldn't show weakness—not now.

"You're Arachne," I called out. "The weaver who was turned into a spider."

The figure descended, becoming clearer and more horrible. "Cursed by your mother," she said. "Scorned by all and made into hideous thing… because I was the better weaver."

"But you lost the contest," I protested.

"That's the story written by the winner!" cried Arachne. "Look on my work! See for yourself!"

I didn't have to. The tapestries were the best I'd ever seen—better than the witch Circe's work, and, yes, even better than some weavings I'd seen on Mount Olympus. But even if what Arachne said was true, I know the gods don't punish someone for beating them unless they were insulted in the process. It doesn't matter even

"You've been guarding this statue since the ancient times," I guessed. "But it doesn't belong here. I'm taking it back."

"Ha," Arachne didn't sound convince not that I could blame here.

How could one girl in a Bubble Wrap ankle cast removed this huge statue from its underground chamber?

"I'm afraid you would have to defeat me first, my sweet," Arachne said. "And alas, that is impossible."

The creature appeared from the curtains of webbing, and I realized that my quest was hopeless I was about to die. Who was I trying to kid thinking I was one of the prophecy of seven.

Arachne had the body of a giant black widow, with a red hairy hourglass mark on the underside of her abdomen and a pair of oozing spinnerets. Her eight spindly legs were lined with curved barbs as big as my dagger. If the spider came any closer, her sweet stench alone would have been enough to make me faint. But the most horrible part was her misshapen face.

She might once have been a beautiful woman. Now black mandibles protruded from her mouth like tusks. Her other teeth had grown into thine white needles. Her eyes were large, lidless, and pure black, with two smaller eyes sticking out of her temples.

The creature made a violent rip-rip-rip sound that might have been laughter.

"Now I will feast on you, my sweet," Arachne said. "But do not fear. I will make a beautiful tapestry depicting your death that will even shatter your boyfriend's stubborn will for Gaea."