Hey there!
So, THE dream! Dun dun dah!
Thanks to Epicator for the kind reviews, I can't PM you so I have to thank you here!
I'm not really sure what the royal fan fic writers award is to be honest, but don't worry,
I'm not planning on giving this story up any time soon :) Glad you enjoy it!
I still don't own PJO/HoO,
and that's all so here goes:

Chapter thirty-one: The Dream

He was standing on top of a huge mountain, made entirely of black stone.
Far below him, Leo could see valleys of fire, and the sky around him was inky dark.
He had no idea how he'd gotten there, but he was absolutely certain that he wanted to leave.
But where could he go? All around him, the mountain fell in steep slopes, and beyond them was
nothing but volcano wasteland.
Just then, he noticed someone standing in front of him, a tall, dark skinned someone.
"Who are you?" Leo called, over the roar of a sudden wind.
"I'm a brother of yours" the boy called back, and Leo had a feeling that he knew his face from
somewhere. An old cabin nine photography, that was it! This boy had been standing in front of the
cabin, an arm around a beautiful dark haired girl.
"You're Beckendorf!" Leo called, awe in his voice.
"It doesn't matter who I am, or was. I have to tell you something Leo, something more important
than anything else, d'you hear me?"
The older boys voice was urgent, and Leo nodded.
"Whatever happens, don't lose your power over fire, Leo!" Beckendorf yelled, as the wind picked
up even more.
"Why would I?" Leo asked, incredulous.
"There are ways. But you must resist, do you understand?"
Leo had no idea what Beckendorf was talking about, the noise of the wind made it too difficult to
concentrate.
"How can you even speak to me? I thought you were dead!" he called to the other boy.
A brief look of pain crossed his dark face, but before Leo could feel bad it had already vanished.
"This is not allowed, the dead talking to the living. But I needed to tell you. Our father wanted me
to tell you! What ever happens, Leo! Don't lose it!"
Suddenly, the ground between them cracked open, and a huge burning chasm separated them.
The roar of the fire mixed with the howling of the wind, and Leo could neither see nor hear his
older brother any longer.
That's when he realised.
"Beckendorf!" he called, terror in his voice "It's gone already! The liquid, it stops my fire!
Beckendorf!"
But there was no answer, just the sound of the elements, growing ever stronger.
And then a huge wave of lava burst out of the chasm in front of Leo, and fell towards him, the heat searing his face, making his skin feel like it was being cut open.
The last thing Leo heard before the wall of red crashed down upon him was his own blood-curdling
scream.
Leo woke up with a yell, certain that he was about to burn to death. He was drenched in sweat and it took him several minutes to realise that the scene on the mountain top had been only a dream.
The problem was, a dream was never only a dream when you're a demigod.
And a dream like that especially not.
Before he could even do something like check the time, Leo had to sit still for a few minutes, concentrating on bringing his breathing back to normal. In and out. In and out.
The flames had seemed so real, and the fear of dying even more so...
He needed to talk to someone who would understand this mess, someone to help him sort through
it all. Whom he needed was Annabeth, but as it was four in the morning, Leo decided not to go to
her quite yet.
Instead, he quietly slipped out of his room and onto the deck, hoping the cool, crack-of-dawn air
would help calm down his nerves.
And it did, after just five minutes of steering Leo instantly felt a little better, and was able to think
about his dream more calmly.
Okay, so he'd talked to a dead camper. That was weird, but definitely not by demigod standards.
And Beckendorf had told him that Hephaestus wanted him to tell Leo something. That kinda
made sense as well, as Zeus had forbidden the gods from interacting with their children, his dad
couldn't warn Leo himself, and interacting with Beckendorf might not count because the latter was
dead.
Good, so that all made sense, in the weird, distorted way things made sense in his world.
But what about the warning Charles Beckendorf had given Leo?
Don't lose you power over fire.
The guy had made it sound like losing his power was something Leo could chose to do. But that was ridiculous. Being able to handle fire was one of Leo's few fortes, why would he chose to lose
it? Unless Beckendorf had meant Leo should protect it more.
Well, if he had, then Leo had already failed. The demons had stopped his fire power, when they'd
drenched him in that liquid.
When Leo tried to light his hand, it was still like there was a barrier on his skin and he ended up
hurting himself instead.
Yet Annabeth had said that the effect of the liquid wouldn't last forever, and Leo trusted her knowledge completely.
So was this really what his brother had meant? And if not, what was?
It was all so confusing...
An hour later, Leo had decided on something. He wouldn't be telling anyone about his dream, they all had enough to worry about anyway, and as long as it didn't become imminently important, Leo
would keep the dream to himself.
Setting Festus on autopilot again, Leo returned to his room, got some clothes and then went for another shower. He scrubbed his skin vigorously, trying with all his might to remove the remaining
effects of the anti-fire liquid. He was pink when he got out of the shower, but still his hand refused
to catch fire.

Maybe he'd just have to wait for the stuff to wear off, even though it made him feel weak and
vulnerable.
Trying to push his worries from his mind for the time being, Leo rang the breakfast bell, and spoke
into the intercom that was connected with a little speaker in every room.
"Good morning, folks! Please move your precious behinds to the mess hall to get some breakfast
as we will be arriving in Charleston in just under thirty five minutes. Thank you, for you attention."
As he made his own way to breakfast, Leo couldn't help but shudder.
The odd thing was, it wasn't the memory of his dream that made him do this, but rather the thought of the day that lay ahead.
Somehow, he had a very, very bad feeling about what was about to happen.