"IT'S LATE. TOO LATE, YOUNG HERO."

The nothingness that had resided a few seconds before, was now replaced with a beautiful, lulling voice touched by innocence, softness and such utter understanding that seemed beyond any kind of comprehension.

Percy had the sudden urge to open his eyes and lay his gaze on the girl slowly running her fingers through his hair, and softly stroking his cheek in vertical movements. He wasn't alarmed in the way he should have been; it felt like a comforting gesture with good intentions of calm and peace. He tried opening his eyes, moving, doing anything really, but his body seemed to ache and burn with an exhausting passion that made every attempt futile.

"It's late. Too late, young hero. It's late. Too late, young hero," she murmured for the umpteenth time in an unsettling tone of worry and mourning.

Too late for what?

"It's late. Too late, young hero."

There was silence. Her hands stopped moving but stayed in place. The only things signaling they were still there: the bare pressure were they lay still and the patch of warmth and refuge from the cold air they represented on his freezing skin. Percy had the suspicion that she was trying to settle an inner turmoil; a debate on wether or not she should do whatever she was going to do. Her fingers took up movement again and he knew she had come to a decision.

"Beware the stars. They fool and trick and steal you," she whispered the warning into his ear, her fingers' touch gone and only a faint warm breeze in her place.

He could only see stars.

Thousands of them dancing along the sky in a bright, fascinating and so mesmerizing trance. Immediately an image of Annabeth ranting on and on about the different constellations and their myths came to mind.

Annabeth.

Oh Gods, he missed her.

The thought of her cunning stormy gray eyes, princess blonde curls and pink soft lips left an ache in his heart that made it hard to breathe and think.

No, Percy thought, get it together. You won't be able to figure out how to get home with a clouded head... Where am I anyways?

"The universe, of course."

Percy was stooped with surprise.

He tried to whirl around in order to identify the person who had spoken, only to realize he couldn't. He was a kind of ghost, a spirit, a soul just floating in space with no physical anchor to keep him grounded.

Well, Nico would be handy right now.

But as it turned out, he realized that he didn't need to move since it seemed like the mysterious being was only a voice with no face nor body, but only its gender to represent it. It was that of a man's. Rough, deep and seemingly ancient.

Despite himself, he felt trivial compared to all this vastness and beauty.

Just a tiny speck in the sea of stars.

"For you can never leave it."

"Who are you?" Percy asked, voice raised, though it probably came out more of a demand than a request for knowledge.

"I am forgotten. Not of significance. At least,
not to most."

A name would have sufficed, Percy thought with measly annoyance.

"What am I doing here?"

"You, on the contrary though, are vital," the voice continued, Percy's questions cast aside. "Your fate has been set for a long time and it is entwined with that of many - if not all - others."

Now, Percy really was getting dizzy. His fate? He just wanted to wake up from whatever kind of messed up dream this was, not receive a fortune telling session from a creepy voice.

"I- I don't understand. My fate? My fate is my own. Plus I'd like to think, that I've already done my part in saving the world. Gods know I've done enough."

He heard a chuckle resonate and Percy bit down a few nasty comments.

"Ahh, we both now it is foolish to think that a demigod, never mind of your heritage and of your achievements, will ever be truly free of the grasp of be it monsters, Titans, Giants, Primordials or the Gods themselves. Young hero, the world is always struggling to keep the balance of right and wrong, good and evil stable. You are to face fears and obstacles worse than you could even begin to imagine."

A bitter taste made way in Percy's mouth. He wanted to laugh at this ridiculous suggestion. He could fathom some pretty horrible things.

"Don't be unwise," the voice chided. "You are powerful. Though how you choose to wield what you possess, is your decision alone."

Percy wanted to groan in confusion, but bit his lip to keep from doing so. His head hurt, spun and pounded with pain as his vision blurred and all this while he tried to make sense of what he had been told.

"Our time is up," the voice drew with a sigh as if having looked at a watch attached to his wrist and seen their meeting had to come to a saddening end. "Farewell, hero. Farewell."

And once more, Percy was engulfed in darkness.

It was cold and wet.

The earth under him was uncomfortable, sticks and stones pressed into his skin and rain droplets fell from the dark stormy gray sky.

Wait... rain?

Percy gasped and sat upwards in alarm. His skin was wet, his fingers wrinkled from the moisture and his hair soaked as he shivered, teeth chattering.

"I'm so going to catch Hypothermia," Percy mumbled to himself, swallowing down the panic that was trying to push (more like shove) its way up his throat.

It was dark, the sky spewing rain and he laid by a creak, the trees around him towering eerily like monsters going for the kill.

He would know after all.

"Alright. Alright. Calm down. What would Annabeth do?" Percy questioned himself, breathing shallow and eyes closed, whole body still shivering from the unbearable cold that was starting to manifest itself deep in his bones as he imagined her serene face.

He smiled and for a second he could imagine her lips on his.

But, the fantasized scene was soon stolen from him and replaced with panic once more.

What the Hades is happening? How long was I out?

It was Déjà Vu. But, unlike with Hera, he had his memories and he had a feeling that none of this had been done by any of the gods. Which was more terrifying than Percy would have expected it to be. At least then he had a vague idea of who was doing this to him and why. Now when he tried answering any of those questions, he drew unrelenting blank spaces.

Percy felt utterly useless; the water drops against his skin were anything, but comforting and calming as he sat there, hyperventilating, as he once again felt the after effects of all the scars and memories, he had attained throughout the years.

So, he sobbed.

He felt so broken and unable to function, he couldn't pull himself together. He was alone, vulnerable, weak and his façade had been stripped from him, leaving him bare.

"What do you want from me?! Tell me!" he screamed, tugging at his hair, shaking his head as if driven mad by the ghosts haunting him.

"I- I just want to be done," he whispered in defeat.

He sniffed and wanted to hit himself for breaking down and giving into the dark things he felt.

He couldn't let go.

He couldn't move on.

And he was starting to think he would never.

disclaimer: there's this guy named rick riordan, who, to say the least, is a troll, but we people love him anyway, for he has given us these amazing people, and, yeah... suffice to say, I'm not him

so... that was mysterious and depressing all in one (yay...). thoughts?

I will try to make longer chapters, but I don't want to stretch it too much, so they might be short like this sometimes.

thanks guys for reading!

-flaminia