I was starting to burn, and it really sucked.
"Your father's nature protects you." One of the telkhines said. It was hard to focus on him (it?) because of the volcano rumbling above us. Also, you know, the fact that I was on fire. "Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, youngling. Not impossible."
"Well, that's not ominous at- all!" When they threw more lava, I sounded like a little girl, my shriek was so high pitched. No matter how many clumsy jumpy spinny things I did, the fire still spread up my clothes. I remember screaming as whatever protection I had wore thin. Everything else went fuzzy. I crumpled to the metal floor. Somehow I managed to remember the voice of the river naiad at the ranch: the water is in me. I needed the sea. But this time I had no help, nothing to draw power from. Plus, the last time I'd done this it had almost gone out of control, and it had hurt.
I didn't have a choice.
So, I called to the sea. I reached deep inside me, blocking out the scorching heat, centering on the waves and currents, the endless might of the ocean. And, as my arms finally gave beneath me, I let it all loose in one horrible scream.
Afterward, I could never quite describe what happened. I know I lost my voice for a week. My gut twisted so hard I thought I was going to be ripped in half. What would you call it? An explosion, maybe. A tidal wave. A whirlwind of power, all simultaneously catching me up and blasting me downward into the lava. Fire and water collided into superheated steam and I shot upward, me and everything around me, from the heart of the volcano, just one piece of flotsam thrown free by a million pounds of pressure. Even while I faded, I could sense the sea beneath me, the monsters and boulders and bits of metal falling into it, and I could feel how fast and how far I was being thrown. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was the feeling of flying. Flying so high Zeus would never forgive me, the cold wind rushing past me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire and water streaming from me like a burning comet hurtling towards the earth.
—-
Annabeth. I started inside myself. It was strange that I hadn't dreamt while I'd been asleep. Why did I have such a potent, lingering sense of danger? It took me, in hindsight, way too long to remember what had happened. I must've bonked my head on a piece of debris on the way down, because it felt all scattered, like a jigsaw puzzle of a billboard— if you're dyslexic to boot, that's pretty bad. But eventually I managed to work out why I felt so tired.
My friends! I cursed mentally in Ancient Greek, still not feeling up to regaining control of my muscles. Annabeth would be mad.
Where was Annabeth? I'd told her to run, and she'd…
My cheeks heated. She'd kissed me.
I could hear her now: What do you think you're doing, seaweed brain? Get up and come find us! Remembering her yelling at me made me realize two things: 1, I needed to get home, and 2, I had no idea where I was or how I was still alive.
In the end I decided I should probably work on the second thing first. By now I was a little more aware, but only enough to realize just how crappy I felt. If you've never overused your powers, count yourself lucky. But let me try to explain. From what Chiron says, the mortal side of us half-bloods can't always take all the power; it has to get used to it. So while the immortal side feels awesome, the mortal part of you feels like you've been electrocuted. (Or at least that's what I think it would feel like. I haven't been struck. Yet. Somehow.) Either way, it's like how you feel when you have the flu, and you're all weak and shaky and empty, only times about a million.
It took a girl to get me moving.
"Perseus Jackson?" I willed myself to bolt upright, to reach for Riptide, but my everything felt like lead. Legs? Nothing. Arms? Nothing again. At last I managed to curl my fingers into a fist. The sun beat down on me.
"Come." The voice said, and I somehow found the strength to open my eyes, blinking against the harsh noon sun. I tried to ask where I was, but my throat was so dry it came out as a hoarse cough.
"Oh, you poor thing." Where was she? Behind me, maybe? "Here." She continued. "Some water will help our aspiring hero." Then something shifted behind me and I was being pushed up, propped against a warm body. She was gentle, but the second I tried to move even a little I sucked in a breath, black spots dancing across my vision. The girl behind me let out a little sound. "It's alright, young hero. Rest. You are wounded, drained of your energy." Dimly, I felt something push up against my lips. Cool liquid flooded my mouth and I instinctively swallowed; some of the water dribbled down my chin. Ugh. I thought. The son of the water god can't drink water. Still, I was too thirsty to feel that embarrassed. I managed to get the rest of the flagon down before my vision started going loopy. She must've noticed I was going to pass out, because she laid me back out on the sand. I didn't feel much better. Still thirsty, head pounding, insides empty and weak. "Now rest, Perseus."
I barely had time to wonder how she knew my name before my eyes slipped shut.
—-
I should explain that usually when demigods have dreams, they suck. Nightmares, honestly, but these ones foretell the future. Creepy, right? Like one time I dreamt I almost got sucked into Tartarus and then… well, that's a different story.
My dreams on the island, however, were much more vivid. Hallucinations of horrible things that I'm not going to explain because those images still haunt me to this day and I don't want that to happen to you. But I will say this– waking up in a cold sweat, screaming and shaking and convinced you just watched your friends die in gruesome detail is not fun. Negative a bajillion out of ten, would not recommend.
So when that happened to me on the beach, and I was already tired and sweaty and achy and scared, I did what I think any sane person would do. (Annabeth says I'm not sane, but the jury's still out.) I curled into a ball, tucked my pounding head between my arms, and cried. And I'm not talking a few silent tears. I'm talking cried like I hadn't cried since my mom took me to the aquarium when I was six. But after that I decided enough was enough and I should stop feeling so darn sorry for myself. So, I uncurled my arms, wincing at how sore I was, and looked around. White sand stretched in an endless line before me, curling off into the horizon, beautiful blue-green waves lapping at the shore. Instinctively I reached out, trying to feel it, but I got a cold apathy. I got the weird feeling that these weren't my seas. Unfolding myself and stumbling to my feet, I journeyed inland, bare feet relishing the cool, wet grass even though it felt like it was a hundred degrees outside. Before long I came to a circular bit of grass with hundreds of little flowers in every color of the rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue– I smiled despite myself. But what I was really excited about was the well in the exact center of the clearing. I rushed to it like Grover to a Coke can, stopping only for a moment to consider the dangers before dipping my hands in and drinking as much as I could. Apparently too much, because after a couple minutes my gut and stomach twisted in unison and I sank to my knees, barfing up whatever I may have had to eat in the past couple days. I should've been more worried, probably, but right then I was so delirious all I could worry about was not faceplanting in my mess. I managed to crawl a couple feet away before my arms gave way and I rolled onto my back, unable to do anything but stare at the sky and take deep, shuddering breaths. Every time I closed my eyes all I saw was the images from my nightmares, so I just laid there. I don't know for how long.
Each time my eyes slipped shut I got a little more panicked. How did I know that wasn't a vision? My gut had been wrong before! That could be happening this very minute! My friends could be in danger!
Crack!
I sprang upright, a massive burst of adrenaline cutting through the spinning. A flash of white caught my eye, fabric, and I sprinted towards the coast as fast as I could, which wasn't very fast. Annabeth's screams echoed in my ears. My eyes caught a dinghy that had appeared on the shore and I rushed for it, tumbling inside and willing the boat to move despite the sharp agony in my gut. The world tilted but I refused to look back, pushing against the mounting pain–
I looked back, and nearly collapsed in relief. The shore was gone, a mist hovering at the edge of the water. I was safe.
Nope. Not even close. The pain was still building, pushing up through my chest into my head and arms and legs. I felt like I was on fire, and it took everything in me not to black out. I needed help, I realized.
Wait. If the boat was responding to me…
I turned and leaned over the side of the boat, barely managing to not fall overboard. "Dad…" I rasped, and was once again aware of how hot and dry it was. My hand hit the water and everything went white. I gritted my teeth, biting back a moan. "I don't… I don't know if you can help me, but… I could really use some help getting back- back… to camp…" Then I felt blindly for my pocket and pulled out the only thing I had to sacrifice. One by one, I pried my fingers away from the pen's cap…
And Anaklusmos disappeared into the ocean.
By the time the boat started moving I was too dazed to notice.
—-
A/N: Yes, I like adding extra whump. Sue me. Sorry I'm a day late by the way. This is my first PJO fanfic (I'm currently reading HOO). Here's to hoping part two is ready by Thursday! Did I do a decent job of keeping the writing style?
