Jeez louise folks. I had Octavian dropped off a bridge into a garbage barge and broke his knees. Y'all are there telling me to do worse things to him. What the hell is worse then that other then pure torture?


Chapter 24


As the heaviness started to lift from her muscles, Annabeth cracked her eyes open. At first only flat dots chased each other in her vision before it cleared to darkness.

Not... just darkness. A square of light fell on her like a spotlight. She could see her arms, bound in thick metal brackets hooked onto construction grade chains. A surface of dark stone that she was laying on, absorbing its coolness that seemed to help her throbbing skull. A little crust of ruddy brown on the floor that she assumed was her dried blood, and a single white feather that quivered near her face.

Tenderly, she tried sitting up but a rush of pain raced through her brain and she whimpered back to the floor.

"The bride awakens," a haughty voice chuckled.

Bride?

She was still in her wedding finery. The white silk folds of her dress hid the shackles binding her ankles, but she could feel them now. Like the devil himself had reached up and caught her by the feet, and was attempting to drag her into hell.

Even though everything throbbed, she tried sitting up a second time and more or less succeeded. Squinting, she scanned around her but only found darkness. No sign of the owner of the voice.

But the light.

She looked up and was met with the sky. A single square of blue that called to her lovingly. At first she thought it was simply behind a pane of glass, but then her vision focused once more and she realized she was looking through a tunnel.

A long, long, tunnel that was punctured into the earth and down into what she assumed was her little cell. Layer upon layer of glass blocked her from the happy little square of sky. It was a tortuous glimpse of freedom, and was purposefully placed to make her shackles feel heavier.

"You'll get used to it." The faceless voice spoke again. "Seeing what you can't have seems to be a theme around here."

Annabeth twisted around in alarm. "Hello?"

"Over here. You're facing a wall."

She was indeed facing a wall. Her head wasn't exactly as clear as she thought it was. When she managed to scoot around she finally discovered the speaker.

A girl.

Separated from Annabeth with thick black metal bars in an adjacent cell. Crookedly kneeling in her own square of sunlight that made her rugged expression appear darker. A crown of choppy black hair on her head, and a heavy bitterness in her lightning blue eyes. Unlike Annabeth, she wasn't wearing a silken gown made for a wedding day. She was sporting a rough grey cotton jumpsuit peppered with holes.

Annabeth was just about to ask the obvious questions when the girl's wings shifted on her back, and Annabeth's heart bounced.

They were blue. Patterned with white and black dashes like a blue jays and just as large as Annabeth's.

She knew blue wings existed, but she'd never hoped to see natural ones. They were one in ten billion. The amount of models who had dyed their wings and faked the anomaly had kept gossip magasins in business for decades.

Another odd thing was that her wings remained unchained, Annabeth noticed. With an experimental stretch she found her own wings to be free as well.

But she has shorter chains. Annabeth could probably move freely around her little cell. This girl could barely reach the light even while straining.

Blue winged girl seemed to be examining Annabeth in turn and cocked her head curiously. "You look like a swan who got hit by a car."

Annabeth didn't know what to say. "Thanks?"

"That wasn't a compliment. Swans are stupid creatures."

Annabeth blinked. She wasn't exactly sure if she should respond to that. She didn't need to be compared to water birds at the moment. She needed answers.

"We are a hundred feet down in a hyper secure prison built especially for people like us. Do what they say, you get rewarded. Piss them off and you get the shit beaten out of you. All they want is to figure out a way to drug you into having small wings again. They'll probably be collecting you soon for questioning and maybe treating that nasty cut if they're feeling generous. They simply refers to the ROTTEN SCUMBAGS who run this place. My name is Thalia and I've been here the longest. Yes, I knew you were going to relentlessly ask about this place, no I will not answer any questions. Bother me and I'll find a way to rip your head off in free time."

Annabeth felt like her head was bubbling with information. Yes, technically those were answers but they weren't the answers she wanted. She needed to know where Percy was. Was she even in the same place as him?

There was a video camera in the corner. A little green light in the edge of its boxy body. Following her subtle movements as she glanced around some more.

In the front of the cell she could make out a hallway lined with mirrors, but it was too dim to see farther as the only lights came from the skylights. What looked to be an outline of a door, and one more empty cell next to Thalia's. She rolled to the right and saw two more cells, each with a square of light, each with a prisoner-

"Percy!" Annabeth gasped and threw herself against the cold clutch of the bars. Her chains snapped taut as she tried to reach through to his broken form.

Blood.

But she couldn't see where he was hurt. He was crumpled in the middle of his cell face down. His black wings limp against the ground as if he were a bird that hit a window. Sporting the same grey jumpsuit Thalia had, and apparently very unconscious.

Horror galloped around Annabeth's throat as she tried not to cry out. She couldn't see his chest moving. He looked pale, and empty and lifeless.

"Oh ho ho!" Thalia laughed from behind her. "You're idiots girlfriend! This oughta be good."

"What happened to him?" Annabeth bit back the sob that rose in her chest.

"Like I said, piss them off and they beat the shit outta you."

Thalia's nonchalance felt like sandpaper against her skin. How could she sound so flippant? How could she not care?

Annabeth took a deliberate breath and shot a glare over her shoulder. "I asked what not how."

"Oooh, kitty got claws." Thalia smirked. "Does what happened to him really matter? You can't help."

"Tell. Me."

"Okay fine. Only because I admire your spunk. He got a few lashings for an attempted escape. Dumb twit was going on and on about how you were in trouble. This is the fourth time he's gotten severe punishment."

Annabeth's esophagus grew a knot. She closed her eyes to calm the waves of grief that threatened to drown her.

Of course Percy would try and get away with every chance he got. Of course punishment wouldn't hold him back. Of course he'd tear himself to ribbons trying to get out and save her from Octavian.

If only she'd figured it out sooner. If only she'd not moped in Octavian's house for so long. If only she'd found her willpower before Octavian had tried to completely break her.

"If you break up with him when he wakes up." Thalia said. "That would be priceless."

Annabeth snapped around, and scowled darkly at her. Fight flitting around her thunderstorm eyes as she rose to her feet with clinks of her chains. Thalia remained unflinching.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Just looking for some amusement, that's all. Things have been quiet ever since Bleater in the corner there crashed like internet explorer. Dimwit was entertaining for a while, but massive blood loss makes him a bit dull y'know?"

Annabeth took a moment to glance past Percy to the last cell in the row. Propped up against the wall was a boy around her age with shaggy brown hair, and brown eyes that were open but empty. Drool dribbled out of his expressionless face. The curvature of his bones shone through his gaunt and skinny form and his unpreened brown wings were spread crookedly about. Slow blinks were the only sign he was even alive.

Grover.

She'd had a glimpse of him somewhere before. On the wall of Sally Jackson's hallway in one of her treasured photographs. Linking arms with a younger Percy and goofily giving a gap tooth smile to the camera.

Here, he looked as if he were already dead.

"What did they do to him?"

"Eh, could've been anything. Sometimes it's a bad batch of drugs, sometimes it's the mental torture, sometimes they just go stony eyed and thats that. He'll probably last another month at most."

Annabeth sucked in a breath and held it. A month was not enough time. Piper would be outside stirring the rumours as hard as she could, but it would take more than a month to create a nationwide breakdown. If Grover was to ever get out of here, he needed to survive at least three months.

But he looks like he'll scarcely make it past today...

From the floor, Percy groaned and shifted to his side. Annabeth's blood sang in her ears when he pushed himself upright. Gashes ripped across his chest in a sick criss cross of burnished red scabs. Stains pooled across his jumpsuit in slow drying splotches.

"Percy!" She tried thrusting her hand through the bars to him again but the chains snapped with a clank and withheld her.

Percy lifted his eyes with a painful squint. She could tell that he was trying to make out her figure as she sunk to the floor. To his level.

"Annabeth…" His tone was broken. Defeated. "No…no."

"It's okay. I'm okay." Helplessness clawed at her throat. If only she could reach him. "Perce…"

Tears sprouted from the corners of Percy's eyes and fled down his cheeks. Shimmering in the pocket of sunlight as they went. The heaviness of his deep green gaze drove screws into her heart.

"You figured it out," he murmured. "You figured it out."

"Yeah." She smiled weakly at him. "No help from you might I add. Your sparse comments did nothing I'm afraid."

"I wanted you to know how to but I never wanted you to get caught. Never." Percy said. Examining every inch of her with his eyes, and lingering on her downy white wings with a fresh flow wetting his cheeks.

"Your dress." He settled on with his brows knitted up adorably. Annabeth's heart yanked in her chest. She'd missed him so damn much. "You didn't… Tell me you made it out before…"

Annabeth shook her head sadly. Filaments of memories from aisles, to flashing lights, to being on a bathroom floor spiraled around her mind.

"But it's okay. As long as I'm here, I'm free of him."

"As long as you're here, you aren't free at all." Percy breathed.

He seemed a hundred years older. Weathered by stress and pain, and looking so bent the sky might've been on his shoulders. Witnessing what his best friend had become in this dark place must've been the first hard hit of many.

"We'll get out." She wanted to hug him. She wanted to comfort him. "We're in this together. We'll get out together."

Percy's expression turned painful and he tipped his head to the floor to hide the fear in his eyes. Sniffling, he took a big gulp of air and tried to direct attention elsewhere. How many times had he really tried to get out and failed? How broken was his spirit?

"You look gorgeous by the way. You-"

"Look like a swan who's been hit by a car. Yes. Lovely. We get it. Can you two quit being sappy? I feel kinda sick." Thalia chimed in.

"Oh go choke on a chain." Annabeth snapped at her.

"Gladly milady. Please present me with a suitable chain to choke on," Thalia said. Having picked up Annabeth's proper form of speaking and using it to mock her.

"Ignore her," Percy lifted his head to glare past Annabeth at Thalia. "She's been here too long and it's messed with her head."

Annabeth felt the apologies rise to her eyes as she glanced past Percy to Grover. "She's not the only one."

Percy grimaced, and lowered his face again. Hiding his expression. Hiding from her.

"He was like that when I got here." he muttered. "He… he doesn't remember me. He doesn't even move now, he just-"

His voice cracked.

If I could bend metal

A throb burned in her chest. She just wanted to hug him. However, all she could do was grip the coldness of the bars and watch as he tried to hide his emotions from her.

Click.

Thalia and Percy flinched in unison as the door down the lengthy mirrored hall popped open flooding in a stretching rectangle of warm yellow light. Two sets of footsteps followed accompanied with their crisp silhouettes as they made their way to the cells. The choppy sound of a person shuffling and a click from a cane matched one with a braced foot. The other, of shorter stance, stopped to hit a switch hidden in a panel on the wall.

A fuzzy hum ignited the air. Without warning a bath of light ripped over the ceiling and expanded into every crevice. Annabeth threw a hand to cover her burning eyes, but refused to shut them. Whoever had entered, she wanted to stare them down. Make sure they knew that she wasn't a coward.

When her vision cleared, she saw one very bored brown uniformed guard with a weak mustache and tired bags under his coal eyes. The other was-

"Octavian." she sneered. "Your other leg seems quite intact."

It was. He stood perched on it like a flamingo posing for a portrait. His injured leg was encased to the hip with a stiff white cast that looked terribly uncomfortable. By the expression on his bruised and pale face, he was trying to hide his displeasure. A smug smile escaped her lips before she had the mind to stop it.

Octavian refused her triumphant eyes and stared maliciously at Percy with his chin jutted out. Percy returned the heat with his own glare. The fight reinstated to his weary posture in a matter of seconds.

"This one. I want him boiled, beaten, lashed, and rubbed with as many salts and sulphurs as you can afford. Give him a real live experience to the word excruciating." Octavian nodded at Percy.

Annabeth's heart plummeted. For a heartbeat her wings quivered from her back. Octavian glanced at her with a leer.

"Sir, this is a research facility not a torture chamber." The bored guard sighed as he flipped through his keys. "And you're here to make counsel for your wife, not this boy. Please stop asking for these flamboyant requests. I'm a security guard, not your butler."

Finally the guard found an odd brass key, one of hundreds, and he clicked it into the door of Annabeth's cell. With a clang it fell open, and the little man shuffled forward to unlock each individual shackle with a different key. Annabeth caught a glimpse of his identification card dangling from his belt on a clip. Carl Devolio.

And the tiniest, shaggiest, most pathetic little pair of wings she ever saw perched on his back.

"Don't squirm this should only take a second Miss Chase."

"Mrs. Annabeth Aresto." Octavian quipped while he stood in the background, sulking.

What a child.

"Where are you taking her?" Percy asked as Annabeth was hauled to her feet.

"None of your business," Carl said.

Something clamped down on the base of her wings. Prickles tangoed around the area and into her shoulder blades at the contact. Tight plastic was all she could feel.

Casually Carl showed her a little remote with two simple buttons.

"Try anything funny and you'll find out what this does."

Define funny.

"Lets go now." He prodded her forward and out of the cell. Simply the movement of walking made the cut in her side seem suddenly inflamed. A tangled emotion of unease twisted around in her chest as she glanced one more time back at Percy. His green eyes full of concern as he sat there straining against his bonds.

Octavian's uneven hobbled gait followed them into the hallway of mirrors. Hundreds of herself in runaway bride gear appeared next to her in a never ending line up. Each one echoing her every subtle movement. At the end of the hall Carl pulled out his keycard dangling from his belt and brushed it over a sensor with a pleasant beep. Seconds later the door groaned at them and a distinct clack rang over their ears.

He opened the door and gestured as if to say ladies first.

How thoughtful.

Beyond the door, the room seemed upside down. They stood on lights paneled in the floor, and the ceiling was carpeted in a luxurious burnished red. A single silver elevator door stood across from them in the tiny room, yet it was also upside down. It was as if they were on the ceiling in a hotel lobby.

"What the…" Annabeth looked to Carl for some sort of explanation. Surely this wasn't normal.

But Carl walked across the room without batting an eye and reached up on his tippy toes to press the up arrow button for the elevator. And Octavian was too busy checking his reflection out on the warped surface of the elevator to even give her a sour face.

The doors slid open like any other elevator, inside was right side round. Lifting her skirt, Annabeth had to step over the ledge of wall usually seperating a door from the roof in order to get into the elevator. Carl by her side humming a happy tune, and adapting so naturally it made Annabeth's mind dizzy. She didn't understand this place.

Inside, the elevator dropped with stomach churning speed. Annabeth grasped at the walls with a sharp inhale and Octavian smirked at her looking almost completely at peace. Did he not feel his weight be lifted as the elevator plummeted?

Suddenly the heaviness returned as they stopped. Every fiber of Annabeth's legs muscles were tested when she refused to drop to her knees from the abrupt pressure. Carl and Octavian were still unaffected, but not unamused by her.

With the clank of mechanics the doors parted, spilling sunshine into the comparatively dark elevator.

Outside?

She swore they had been going down. She knew they had been going down. But here they were, stepping out into a mild canyon. Rocky terrain crunched beneath their shoes, and the smell of warm plants baking in the sun filled her nose. It was hot, and dry with a gentle trickle of a cool breeze coming down the two purple mountains spanning to her left, and to her right. Through the chatter of a few lazy song birds she could hear the content bubbling of a stream as it chugged along the bottom of the canyon mixed with the shush of tall grass in wind. In the hazy distance stood a stoic log cabin situated happily on a grassy hill next to the edge of the glittering water.

But they weren't headed for the cabin.

A few feet away was a conference table. Large, long and a beautiful shade of polished chestnut, nestled on a square of trimmed turf. Regally carved chairs lined around its tabletop held men and women in crisp suits all a light shade of grey. Yellow folders of paper sat perfect and untouched before them.

As they walked to the peculiar spectacle, Annabeth couldn't help but take in the sky. A crystalline blue dappled with white ageless clouds.

She could fly away.

She could try at least.

The presence of the circlets against her back tingled again, and she thought better of it. Besides, she didn't have what she came for. She didn't have Percy with her.

Without a fight, she allowed herself to be seated at the head of the table. Carl snapped her wrists into restraints that lay in the arms of the chair before he disappeared out of sight.

Octavian limped to the last empty chair on her right and was scooted in by a random woman without a word.

"All present for the meeting Mr. Manning," someone on the far end announced.

At the end of the dizzying length of table, the man facing Annabeth rose to his feet with an air of business. His eyes and mouth were too big for his head, Annabeth noted, like a gargoyle who had slunk off its castle. Gobs of patchy black hair had somehow been managed into a combed appearance while his sturdy muscular form was deceiving because of his pudgy round cheeks.

He looked more like a caricature of a real person rather than a living one.

"This meeting is to address a plan of action for Mrs. Annabeth Aresto, previously Miss Annabeth Chase. As suspected, the young Mrs. is responsible for the great turmoil we've seen recently in the public so it's imperative we cure her, and return her in a timely fashion. Unlike most cases, we have outside support with help from Annabeth's husband-" Mr. Manning gestured to Octavian with one beefy hand. "Mr. Aresto will aid in a never before attempted rehabilitation."

Octavian nodded serenely to all the curious looks thrown in his direction before sticking one gawky arm up in the air.

"Yes Mr. Aresto?"

"I detest the amount of time it will be in order to design a cure for Annabeth." He started with an abundance of confidence. "I propose we simply amputate her wings, and don her a pair of very realistic prosthetics."

Annabeth shivered, and realigned her wings on her back so they were folded more tightly. A protest was just short of her tongue. What would happen if she spoke? If she screamed? Would they simply kill her?

Mr. Manning rubbed his clean shaven face slowly as the buzz of mutters stirred in the midday air. "You are aware of the risks involved with that route?"

"I am." Octavian said.

"Well we are not willing to take those risks." A middle aged woman rose to her feet in objection. "Removing one's wings is close to a death sentence. She must be returned in full working order for the public to be convinced that there is nothing to her claims, and that her little showboat around the city was nothing but a mere trick."

Octavian's expression soured. Annabeth let go of her breath.

She still had value. They needed her to calm the growing disbelief and churning anger in the public. She had leg room, she realized, because no matter what she did they wouldn't kill her.

"I suggest for the time being, she be treated like any other case. Have her showered and changed, and put back to rest. Show her what an ideal person is supposed to be like and hope that she is cooperative." Another raised his voice, although Annabeth could only see the back of his bald head.

Octavian snorted. "Clearly you've never met Annabeth. She is the opposite of cooperative."

"Luckily, we know how to fix that." Mr. Manning stated a little too coldly for Annabeth's liking.

"I'm sorry, I'm confused. Why are you talking about me as if I'm not here? Why am I here to begin with? Wouldn't it be more suiting if I were to not hear any of your schemes?"

The collection of people paused, and looked expectantly in Annabeth's direction but not directly at Annabeth. It was as if she were made of glass and their gazes passed right through her body. A gruff apology came from (who she assumed was) Carl who seemed to be fumbling with something.

In an instant the world melted into a crack of agony. Unintentionally her arms thrashed in their restraints, electricity pulsing up and down her back. Fire arcing through her veins that made her release one strangled scream before the pain retreated and she slumped limp in the chair.

"Thank you Carl. Please remember to focus as to avoid unwanted outbursts." Mr. Manning said, still not looking at Annabeth.

Her wings throbbed with a heavy ache as she tried to bring her focus back around into the continuing conversation. However, a deep fuzziness started to grip into her mind like a parasite. A brain numbing sleepiness.

There was a cricket sitting on the table chirping at her. It was all she seemed to manage to see. A whisper of a breeze brushing over her wings reminded her that she was outside, and the gurgle of the people around her started clicking back into focus. Waking up, slowly. Almost as if she were a computer that had restarted.

What did they do to me?

"- so to conclude, the use of personal relationships will be key in curing Mrs. Aresto." A person to her right finished and lowered themselves back into their seats.

"As it so happens, in that sense, we are richly prepared to deal with Mrs. Aresto." The head of the meeting addressed again. "Not only do we have her apparent boyfriend, but also our only successful cure could prove useful."

Whispers started to slip between meeters. A knowing look in each of their starchy gazes.

A panel the size of a school chalkboard slowly rose from the ground like a zombie bursting from the earth. She was looking at a single window? No. A giant magnifying glass. Blades of grass quadrupled in size waved back at them through the pane as it rose higher and higher until it reached well past their heads on its metal stilts. The homely cabin in the distance appeared in its black frame. Every detail of its weathered sides, and small yet prim garden was now visible. A single person sat in the shade of the porch mindlessly teetering back on an old wooden chair. Instead of a grey jumpsuit, he had a pair of loose fitting jeans and a casual white t-shirt smeared with brown soil as if he had just been pulling weeds. A top of honey blonde hair ruffled with the lazy flaps of his snow white wings as he balanced. Tiny wings, like Annabeth used to own.

"Luke!" Annabeth cried out. A dizzying flush rushing to her prickling face as her heart jumped around in her lungs. Her arms jerked against the restraints holding her down in the chair. Beating her wings against the air as if she could fly to him.

Luke looked up, startled, and squinted in her direction. Could he see her? He was so far away. He was older, more handsome, healthier looking but cripe in heavens it was him.

A flash of pain overtook her body, spasming through her figure like a demon. Once more she felt as if she were skimming over hell fire. Like blisters were bubbling in her skin, and her blood was molten lead.

"Luke!" She managed to scream, although her body was twitching involuntarily.

The pain tripled. Scorching down to the marrow of her bones, leaking through the rivets in her brain, swelling, foaming, stabbing. It wasn't normal to feel as if her teeth were shattering. It wasn't normal to feel as if her fingernails were melting holes into her fingers. The world blurred and shifted with every scalding turn of her eyeballs. Every dry and sandy blink was blending the outside world into one shade.

One more guttural cry came from her lips when the sensation of bugs burrowing through her ears grew and died.

Then it all died.
The pain shifted away and faded to an ache. What felt like a hammer in her skull was really her heartbeat coursing through her tender ears. Opening her teary eyes, she discovered that the meeting table, the counsel, Octavian and the glorious blue sky was gone. Luke was gone.

She was back inside the elevator slumped against the icy wall. Carl stood next to her, humming sweetly as if he were recalling a warm memory. Paying her no mind as she staggered to her feet, shaken with fear.

The feeling of crusty makeup, and old perfume oiling her skin was gone. Reaching up, she pressed a palm against her scalp and was shocked when it felt damp.

What the hell?

Her hair had been braided down the back and her wedding dress was gone. Replaced by the familiar grey onesie all the prisoners had. Cheap soap lingered on her skin.

Was I bathed?

Defensively she crossed her arms and shivered. Confusion racing through her mind as she tried to make sense of what happened. How long was she out for? Although she never even felt as if she had gone unconscious. Had she been unconscious? What did they do to her? What happened?

Everything from the tips of her wings down to her toes was sore to move. It was as if she had just gone through the world's most extensive workout twice. Something had to have happened between the conference outdoors and then.

Something with Luke? The image of him sitting carefree in that little cabin between the two mountains haunted her. Had he known how much she missed him? Why was he even there?

In the back of her mind Thalia's words replayed themselves.

Seeing what you can't have seems to be a theme around here.

Were they going to dangle Luke in front of her? Never let them speak? Did he see her? Did he know that she was there?

All things considered, it's nice to know he's alive. Annabeth thought while staring blankly at the floor. Jitters racing over her skin every few seconds of the oddity of the experience. I need to focus on the good things.

With a ding, the elevator stopped and the doors parted. Tiredly, Annabeth stood up and prepared to step over the little ledge of the wall and into the upside down lobby.

But the little ledge was gone.

She was facing the exact same room as before, yet now it was right way round. Burnished red carpet beneath her feet, and the panels of light shining above. Staring up, she swore she remembered walking across those lights but a hook of uncertainty yanked in her throat.

Again Carl noticed nothing and guided her to the singular door with that bored look on his face.

When they entered into the hall of mirrors, Annabeth finally felt her unease drift away. At least it was something familiar, plus she could see Percy at the end of it still chained in his little cell.

Carl clapped abruptly, startling her heart again, and the lights flicked on. Just as she was about to gladly run back into her cell, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Rosy cheeked from being outside and well suited in the jumpsuit that brought out her eyes. But that wasn't what caught her attention.

Only a single version stared back. And she couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw her reflection blink.

"C'mon, keep moving." Carl said unenthusiastically. Holding up his little remote.

Annabeth willingly let Carl chain her back into the cell. It seemed like a haven compared to the brain frying world out there. Besides, Percy was next to her.

When Carl had done his job and had gone just as expressionless as he came, Percy pulled himself off the floor with a clink of his chains and looked at her expectantly.

"So?" he asked. "What happened?"

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. All she could do was give him a suffocated look.

"Yeah," he agreed somberly. "Yeah, that pretty much sums up this place."

"I saw Luke," she managed to get out the important stuff.

Percy's eyebrows knitted together above his soft green eyes. "Luke, your friend who disappeared when you were a kid? The guy who gave you that compass?"

Annabeth nodded.

"No." Thalia said bitterly. The airy tone of her voice had been crushed by what sounded like despair. "You didn't see him. You didn't see Luke Castellan."

Annabeth whipped around to her. "You know him?"

Thalia's eyes hit the ground. "That doesn't matter, you hear? You didn't see him."

Annabeth ruffled at her words. "You don't know that. I know what I saw. Luke was in this cabin between two mountains. He looked for me when I yelled for him."

"Cool story bro," Thalia said flatly. Uninterested. She wasn't prodding for entertainment. She wasn't looking for some fun, and that sent Annabeth's nerves on a spin. "Except for it's impossible because Luke Castellan died two years ago right where you're standing."


This chapter was so fun to write.