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 AND THE KANE CHRONICLES OR IT'S CHARACTERS as the rights goes to Rick Riordan. 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.

This is a The Tales of version of the Percy Jackson and Kane Chronicles crossover and takes place after 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus part of the series. So if you haven't read them yet read before reading this story as stuff that happened in them will be mentioned:

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
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Mark of Athena
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The House of Hades
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Blood of Olympus
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Son of Sobek
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Staff of Serapis
The Tales of Magicians and Demigods: The Crown of Ptolemy

Also if you haven't got the chance feel free to read:

The Tales of Classical Mythology

A crossover with The Tales of series with my dictionary on Greek/Roman Mythology where The Tales of Percy Jackson tells his version of stories behind famous names in Greek and Roman Mythology.

And if you are a fan of Stephen King:

The Tales of the Heroes of the Stand

Which is basically a crossover of The Tales of series with one of Stephen King's best novels The Stand.

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.

The Labyrinth is Not Like What it was Before

At least we did not land in Peru.

My feet hit stone, jarring my ankles. We stumbled against a wall, but Meg provided me with a convenient cushion.

We found ourselves in a dark tunnel braced with oaken beams. The hole we had fallen through was gone, replaced by an earthen ceiling. I saw no sign of the other teams, but from somewhere above I could vaguely hear Harley chanting, "Go! Go! Go!"

"When I get my powers back," I said, "I will turn Harley into a constellation called the Ankle Biter. At least constellations are silent."

Meg pointed down the corridor. "Look."

As my eyes adjusted, I realized the tunnel's dim light emanated from a glowing piece of fruit about thirty meters away."

"A golden apple," I said.

Meg lurched forward, pulling me with her.

"Wait!" I spoke. "There might be traps!"

As if to illustrate my point, Connor and Paolo emerged from the darkness at the other end of the corridor. Paolo scooped up the golden apple and shouted, "BRASIL!"

Connor grinned at us. "Too slow, suckers!"

He and Paolo executed an awkward one-eighty and hobble away, hotly pursued by a rolling herd of cannonballs with sparking fuses.

The sounds quickly faded. Without the glowing apple we were left in total darkness.

"Great." Meg voice echoed. "Now what?"

"I suggest we go the other direction.

That was easier said than done. Being blind seemed to bother Meg more than it did me. Thanks to my mortal body, I already felt crippled and deprived of my senses. Besides, I often relied on more than sight. Music require keen hearing. Archery required sensitive touch and the ability to feel the direction of the wind. (Okay, sight was also helpful, but you get the idea."

After a few minutes of us extending our arms in front of us listening to anything coming from ahead of us that might be warning signs, Meg suddenly stopped.

"What?" I responded.

"Why are we wondering in the dark?" Meg asked.

"Because there's no light," I said.

Meg gave me her trademark raspberry. "I mean, why are you using your sword to give us light? Like back in the woods."

"Meg, believe it or not, demigods can be harmed by celestial bronze," I said, "With the way we're moving we could trip over and hurt ourselves."

"It's better than walking around in the dark," Meg said. "Take it out and use it for light."

Of course, she made that an order, and since she is my master, I did just that.

"You should know imperial gold can be used the same way," I responded.

"Yeah, but unlike you I can use my swords in combat if needed. At least we can make use out of yours," Meg said.

I bit back a wave of curses as we stumbled ahead.

Eventually Meg and I learned to walk with our bound legs in synchronicity. It was not easy. I had flawless sense of rhythm. Meg was always a quarter beat slow or fast, which kept us veering left or right and running into walls.

We lumbered along for what might have been minutes or days. In the Labyrinth, time was deceptive.

I remember what Austin had told me about the Labyrinth feeling different since the death of its creator. I was beginning to understand what he meant. The air seemed fresher, as if the maze had not been chewing up quite so many bodies. The walls did not radiate the same malignant heat. As far as I could tell, they were not oozing blood or slime, either, which was a definite improvement. In the old days, you could not take a step inside Daedalus's Labyrinth without sensing its all-consuming desire: I will destroy your mind and your body. Now the atmosphere was sleepier, the message not quite as virulent: Hey, if you want to die in here, that is cool.

"I never liked Daedalus," I muttered. "That old rascal didn't know when to stop. He always had to have the latest tech, the most recent updates. I told him not to make his maze self-aware. 'A.I. will destroy us, man," I said. But noooo. He had to give the Labyrinth a malevolent consciousness."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Meg said. "But maybe you shouldn't bad-mouth the maze while we're inside it."

Once, I stopped when I heard Austin's saxophone. It was faint, echoing through so many corridors I could not pinpoint where it was coming from. Then it was gone. I hoped he and Kayla had found their three apples and escaped safely.

Finally, Meg and I reached a Y in the corridor. Even without the sword, I could tell this from the flow of the air and temperature differential against my face.

"Why'd we stop?" Meg asked.

"Shh." I listened intently.

The Kopis did not give us enough light to peer down either corridors, but from the right-hand corridor came a faint whining sound like a table saw. The left-hand corridor was quiet, but it exuded a faint odor that was unpleasantly familiar… not sulfur, exactly, but a vaporous mix of minerals from the deep in the earth.

"I don't hear anything," Meg complained.

"A sawing noise to the right," I told her. "To the left, a bad smell."

"I choose the bad smell."

"Of course, you do."

Meg blew me another one of her raspberries, then hobbled to the left, pulling me along with her.

The bronze bands around my leg began to chafe. I could feel Meg's pulse through her femoral artery, messing up my rhythm. Whenever I get nervous (which does not happen often), I like to hum a song to calm myself—usually Ravel's Boléro or the ancient Greek "Song of Seikilos." But with Meg's pulse throwing me off, the only tune I could conjure was the "Chicken Dance." That was not soothing.

We edged forward. The smell of volcanic fumes intensified. My pulse lost its perfect rhythm. My heart knocked against my chest with every cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck of the "Chicken Dance." I fear I knew where we were. I told myself it was not possible. We could not have walked halfway around the world. But this was the Labyrinth. Down here, distance was meaningless. The maze knew how to exploit its victims' weaknesses. Worse: it had a vicious sense of humor.

"I see light!" Meg said.

She was right. The absolute darkness passes the Kopis' light had changed to murky gray. Up ahead, the tunnel ended, joining with a narrow, lengthwise cavern like a volcanic vent. It looked as if a colossal claw had slashed across the corridor and left a round in the earth. I had seen creatures with claws that big down in Tartarus. I did not fancy seeing them again.

"We should turn around," I said.

"That's stupid," Meg said. "Don't you see the golden glow? There's an apple in there."

All I saw were swirling plumes of ash and gas pass the bronze light. "The glow could be lava," I said. "Or radiation. Or eyes. Glowing eyes are never good."

"It's an apple," Meg insisted. "I can smell apple."

"Oh, now you develop keen senses?"

Meg forged onward, giving me little choice but to go with. For a small girl, she was quite good at throwing her weight around. At the end of the tunnel, we found ourselves on a narrow ledge. The cliff wall opposite was only ten feet away, but the crevasse seemed to plunge downward forever. Perhaps a hundred feet above us, the jagged vent opened into a bigger chamber.

A painfully large ice cube seemed to be working its way down my throat. I had never seen this place from below, but I knew exactly where we were. We stood at the omphalos—the navel of the ancient world.

"You're shaking," Meg said.

I sheathed my sword and tried to cover her mouth with my hand, but she promptly bit it.

"Don't touch me," she snarled.

"Please be quiet."

"Why?"

"Because right above us—" My voice cracked. "Delphi. The chamber of the Oracle."

Meg's nose quivered like a rabbits. "That's impossible."

"No, it's not," I whispered. "And if this is Delphi, that means…"

From overhead came a hiss so loud, it sounded as if the entire ocean had fit a frying pan and evaporated into a massive steam cloud. The ledge shook. Pebbles rained down. Above, a monstrous body slid across the crevasse, completely covering the opening. The smell of molting snakeskin seared my nostrils.

"Python." My voice was now an octave higher than Meg's. "He is here."