Jason PoV

It's been a few weeks since Atlas has visited us and I took the blessing as it came. It was quiet in the cell, save for the occasional sick sniffle, groan of pain, or the sounding of me hacking up blood. Annabeth tried to stay positive, but I was resigned to what my fate looked like. Dying in this cell from an unknown poison and never getting to see my friends again, never getting to say goodbye. The last person I said goodbye to was Percy, and in that moment—though unaware to what would soon be my new normal— I couldn't help but feel as if that moment was the last time I would see him. What that meant, I had no idea, but it bothered me as I rode on Tempest. I couldn't stop thinking about that feeling, why it was there or why it made me feel so... upset. Maybe it was the last time I would see him alive—whether it was me who would die or him. Or maybe it was the last time I would see that version of Percy; maybe he would have changed for the worse the next time I saw him. Or maybe I would go blind.

But it wasn't just a feeling. Along with it came nightmares. Every night I had vague nightmares about Percy, they induced the same feeling, the same dread, but I couldn't understand them. Annabeth didn't know. At first I didn't tell her because I was so freaked out by them that I didn't want to acknowledge them. Then, as time passed and it was becoming more hopeless and felt like we would never be found, I decided Annabeth didn't need more to worry about. I could deal with creepy, dread-inducing dream Percy by myself.

His eyes were always empty, but not in the metaphorical sense. Dream Percy never had pupils or irises, or even an eyeball. Just a hole of pure white or pure black. Sometimes he was laying down motionless with his arms folded on his chest, as if he was lying in an open casket. Sometimes he stood and stared, motionless and unblinking with his disturbing eyes. He never smiled, but sometimes his lips would move but no words would come out. Other times he would be standing, staring and ash poured from his fingertips, like a never ending stream of sand, but ash. He would have a shirt on that had a large red stain of blood, bright and fresh, right over his stomach.

I didn't know what these dreams meant, only that it wasn't good. Maybe if we ever got out of here I would have Annabeth help me decipher them. If I was still alive. Nothing was promising and I doubted that if we ever left, that both of us would be alive. The poison was getting worse and my open wound wasn't helping. I started hallucinating and sometimes I would see dream Percy in the cell with us, but I never said anything. As each day passed, I could feel my body getting weaker and more blood poured out when I hacked uncontrollably. No matter what Annabeth said, I knew.

I was going to die.

Nobody knew where we were and if someone did, by the time they got here... I would already be dead. When I first realized this, it made me angry, so angry. Angry that my last moment would be spent in a cell, kidnapped. That I wouldn't get to say goodbye, tell Piper how much I loved her. Angry that Annabeth would have to watch her friend die, not knowing whether or not she would soon follow. Then, I was resigned and grudgingly made peace with my end. I was upset, but I didn't want to spend my last moments angry—and those last moments seemed to be almost upon me. My hallucinations got worse and more frequent and I knew that meant the poison was probably closer to my brain now. My hacking fits happened more often and I grew paler each day. The pain from the poison and my wound intensified, though I suspect that wouldn't last long—I was slowly starting to lose feeling. Time would lapse around me and sleep never felt more welcoming—though I knew Annabeth worried for sometimes I would sleep days at a time.

My time was coming. I could almost see my string and hear the sliding blades of the scissors—the anthem of my death.

Sometimes I awoke to Annabeth's fingers on my neck, checking for a pulse. It was something she did often, even when I was awake and simply closed my eyes for too long, not having the energy to open them from what was supposed to only be a blink. She feared the very likely possibility, a possibility that I had come to accept as reality.

That one day... one day soon... I would close my eyes and they would never open.

«»

Draco PoV

I sat at the table, watching as Percy stared blankly out the window, hair disheveled from furious and anxious tugging. Something was bothering him, something that caused bags to appear under his eyes and his attention to wander. I tried, multiple times to ask him what was bothering him, but he always brushed it off as nothing. But I knew it was something. At first I thought maybe it was Ron and the situation with Harry, but that didn't seem right. If it was that, Percy would've confided in me. Then, I worried that it was me, that he was regretting staying friends with me after finding out that I was a Death Eater. But he wasn't just like this with me. With Ron and the endless amount of friends he seemed to have—though everyone was a little more somber as of late—, it was the same. He lost focus with them too, he was closed off with them too.

"Percy," I sighed, sitting up in my seat. He hummed, gaze still on the window, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other tapping anxiously against his thigh. "What's going on with you?" For a while, he didn't respond, didn't even seem to have heard me. Then, he sighed and turned around, dragging a hand tiredly down his just-as-tired face.

"Draco... I told you, nothings wr—"

"No!" My shout startled the both of us and Percy's eyes widened. "No, something is wrong. Percy, please, just tell me." Begging... when did I become so soft? He hesitated, shook his head and turned around, before swiveling towards me again and plopping down in a seat. He slumped tiredly, resting his head against his arms. He stayed like that and I didn't disturb him. Minutes went by before he finally lifted his head and sat up, eyes meeting mine.

"I'm... gods how do I even say this. My girlfriend—"

"You have a girlfriend?" The shock propelled me to speak before I even registered words were coming about of my mouth. Percy smiled, chuckling.

"Yeah... Is that so hard to believe?" I shook my head, hesitated then shook it again. "What?" He asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Nothing! I just... thought you were—you know..." I gestured randomly, not really making coherent movements but hoping he caught on anyways. He bursts into laughter, head swinging backwards in amusement. He bent forwards until his face was resting against the table and his arms were clutching at his sides. Though my face was flushed in embarrassment, I couldn't help but smile. Finally, he stopped, tilting his head up to grin at me boyishly. I rolled my eyes.

"You can say gay, Draco." I flushed and threw my ring at him, snatching it back as he cackled humorously.

"I know! Don't laugh at me, it's not my fault! You never showed any interest in any girls, despite them practically chasing after you and at the Christmas party... Well, you were joking about us going together and you mentioned a Leo, as if pretending to be partners with a bloke was something you did often." His eyes swam with mirth.

"The Christmas party?" He cackled again. "Aw man, Draco, I haven't laughed this hard since who knows when." I huffed and held my chin up, hearing his amused snort at my antics. "But, no, I'm not into dudes." He smiled, raised a brow, and leaned forward.

"Are you gay?" I spluttered and choked on my spit—something I didn't think actually happens to people—, eyes widening profusely. Percy cackled again and my eyes narrowed into a glare, he only did that to tease me. Well, I'll have him know I am NOT gay, in fact, my crush on—I startled out of my thoughts when Percy's hand slammed on the table, his face leaning forward, eyebrows shot high.

"Wait, you're actuall—"

"No! I'm not! I was just thinking about this gir—" My hands flew to cover my mouth but the damage was already done. Percy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and I groaned, slumping. I can never win with him.

"So... a girl... who is she? Do I know her?" I deadpanned and his face turned into one of mock offense, as if to say, 'what?'

"Anyways!" I paused to lower my voice, though no one was in here but us. "Your girlfriend?" He tensed immediately and I winced.

"Right, Annabeth." The name dumped a bucket of ice cold water on me and I froze. 'Annabeth, my name is Annabeth and his name is Jason. Please, I'm begging you, help us.' The memory came back to me like clap in the face and my hands clenched in my lap, hidden under the table. My eyes shot up to see if Percy has noticed, but his head was hanging dejectedly, eyes staring at the table. He hadn't seen. "Annabeth and my cousin, Jason... they've been missing for months now and... I've been having these nightmares lately. They don't make much sense and are so confusing. A hallway with black walls, a single chandelier lighting it... and at the end is a door with a symbol on it. It's in silver and it's a snake wrapped around a V... then the scene changes to a cell and the door is open. I walk in and on a piece of parchment paper are two strands of hair and a near empty glass with a clear liquid in it. The hair... both strands are blond, but one is long and curly, but the other is shorter and straighter."

"The liquid, is it water?" Percy looks at me incredulously.

"I don't know. Every time I go to pick up the glass, the dream restarts. Same with the hair."

"What do they look like? Annabeth and Jason?" I try to keep my voice steady on their names and it works.

"They're both blond. Annabeth has curly, long hair and Jason has shorter hair. Annabeth has gray eyes and Jason's are blue." He dropped his head on the table, sighing.

"What if..." I paused, gathering courage. "What if the Dark Lord has them?" Percy's head shot up.

"What?" I shrugged, trying not to look guilty.

"He rose last year and you did fall through the ceiling of the Great Hall for absolutely no reason. Dumbledore seemed to know why you're here and well... Dumbledore is the only one who You-Know-Who fears, so... what if he has them?"

"Then Voldemort better wish Harry gets to him first."