Chapter 8

"Bound?" I asked, panic, despite my efforts to restrain it, eked into my voice, threatening my calm façade to shatter like glass. It didn't help that Chiron, the one that provided hope in the bleakest of situations, looked as helpless as I felt. His eyes were saddened, despairing, but most of all, tired as if the years of watching demigods, much like myself, plummet to their deaths has finally caught up with him.

"Yes," He said reluctantly before going more in-depth on this unwanted and rather frightening connection between Kronos and myself. "I do not want to frighten you, Percy, not in the least bit, but I'm going to tell you this only to inform you of the struggles you must face in the near future." Chiron paused, kneading the bridge of his nose, a habit I noticed that he picked up whenever he was stressed or worrisome. "You and the Titan Lord are tied in a way that is unnatural and atypical from, say, an empathy link. An empathy link is simply a, well, link between two people or creatures from the demigod world. It allows you to communicate with that person and that person only, or on instinct, know exactly what that person is feeling, whether it be fear, sadness, etc. But with the binding between you and Kronos, it is far more complex."

"The tether tying the both of you together is stronger and allows for a more…extensive journey into your mind. Kronos now has the power to, quite literally, get inside your head. He has access to your thoughts, secrets, weaknesses that were unknown to him before, which brings him at an advantage."

Head spinning, I took a few breaths, eyes closed, trying the process the information overload that's threatening to send me into a mental breakdown. Going through a mental list in my head, I sorted through all I had learned, arranging facts in a way that made them easier to understand as if my head was an enormous filing cabinet that I was filling to the brim.

A thought struck me as Chiron's words registered, bringing a fresh layer of fear bubbling to the surface. He has access to your thoughts, secrets, weaknesses. With that kind of information, he'll bring this camp to its downfall, crumbling down brick by brick just as he'd promised, in no time, leaving the surviving population to a meager zero. Halfbloods will die, the camp will be no more, no longer protecting those in need of shelter from the monsters and prying human eyes that lay in wait to bring them to the very place I'd escaped from.

"What are we going to do?" I asked, already knowing the answer and fully prepared to oblige.

"We're just going to have to be ready." Chiron said, shocking me by saying the exact opposite of what I'd expected.

"What do you mean we're just going to have to be ready?!" I shouted, incredulous that he hadn't already shoved me out the door as a precautionary. "Chiron, I'm a danger to this entire camp, to everyone around me, and you just expect me to be okay sitting back and waiting for something to happen? For someone to die because of me? Because that's not going to happen."

"Percy-" Chiron began before getting interrupted by Clarisse.

"You really can't seriously be considering to let him stay here. You are, aren't you?" She laughed, but it lacked humor and was full of mockery. "Your judgment is clouded, Chiron, tainted simply because she," Clarisse jerked her chin in Annabeth's direction. "can't bear to lose her little boyfriend."

"Enough, Clarisse." Chiron said, his voice steely calm. "This place, this camp, is a refuge for demigods all around the world. When a hero is in need, they come here to seek shelter, a safe haven, a place they will not be hunted or ridiculed for being the monsters the mortals perceive them to be and I will not be the one to turn them away."

"Even if they threaten the safety of the camp? Nice. That's real nice." Sarcasm dripped off her words like honey, thick and meaningful. Clarisse pushed back her seat and left the room without another word, but not before shooting me a hateful glance over her shoulder.

"She's right, Chiron." Those were words I'd never imagined saying.

He sighed heavily to himself and remained silent for a long time before muttering:

"Meeting dismissed."

The campers rose from their seats and shuffled to the door. Annabeth and Thalia stayed back, waiting for me, but I nodded at them to go ahead.

Once they were out the door, I approached Chiron who sat in his old, battered wheelchair, staring blankly, intently, at the wall as if it held all the answers.

"Chiron." I said, jostling him from his thoughts. He looked up, eyes locking on mine, and in them, I saw the lives of demigods cruelly torn away from them, their futures ripped away because of the inhumane treatment of our kind. The deaths and the tolls that it had taken on this old centaur's life and understood why he was so hell-bent on protecting all those who came to Camp Halfblood.

As if reading my thoughts, he said:

"I've seem many die at the hands of evils that never wither away, never die as they had, permanently. And as you can imagine, it's never easy to handle the loss of the heroes I'd trained, I'd cared about. The inhabitants of the camp take the deaths the hardest, for they knew them on a personal level, had maybe even been friends or brothers or sisters with them. Each loss only brings on more determination to avenge the fallen, but it quickly fizzles out as another dies. I'm just trying to keep the camp together despite the inevitable that will no doubt happen to them all some day or another." He paused, restoring eye contact with me once again. "I understand why you wish to leave and I will not stop you if you choose to. But you must promise me something."

"What is it?"

"Annabeth will want to come with you and nothing will stop her from doing so. Keep her safe; she is the closest thing I have to a child and losing her would be my undoing." A pang of remorse shot through me like a bullet from the glint in his eyes and the weight of his words. He'd been through so much being the director of this camp. He'd grown attached to campers only to have them forever evicted from his life and the world they were surrounded in. Everyone that didn't return chipped away at his soul, guilt materializing in his gut like a flood of needles puncturing holes in his heart until he's driven by the need to protect. The guilt of not training them better, pushing them harder until they're the warriors that would've returned with their heads held high and been showered in honor, instead of a shroud. But the guilt is not his to bear despite his thinking so. As I've said before, all the training in the world can't prepare you for the real thing when it's right under your nose.

"I promise." I said and meaning it fully.

He nodded his before bending it down to look at the newspaper he'd had strewn across his lap.

The cover page portrayed a curly-haired, Latino boy, his features elfish, as he struggled against arms like bands of steel encircled around his waist. His mouth was opened wide in a shout, the words lost in the stationary, gray and fuzzy photograph. The man clutching him wore the standard guard uniform at Lotus Prison, but he was stockier and broader than most of the guards that had been recruited. Obviously, the prison stepped up its security after our Houdini act. A familiar face stood next to them. Luke Castellan, sporting a mocking grin that infuriated me to no end. In his hand was a tool belt held just out of reach of the boy and from the way he was clawing at the air for it, it was important to him. But what shocked me the most was the fire in the boy's eyes, a burning determination that had burned-out in the hearts of demigods worldwide. The fight, the hope, churning within him that hadn't fizzled out like it had with others before him after years of our mistreatment. The hope for a future better than the one forced upon us.

Chiron, having taken notice of my interest in the paper, handed it over to me. "Keep it." He said, massaging his temples. "It only pains me to see another halfblood encaged."

Thanking him for the paper, I turned to leave, but stopped when Chiron called my name.

"Just one more thing." He said. "People will tell you disagree with you, question your judgment in times of great distress. But you are the hero, you do what you think is right and don't let anyone tell you what is or isn't. This is your story, you decide how it should be written."

Eyes straining as they stared at the gray, grainy photograph, I delved deep into my brain, searching for the secret rooms that hold the identity of this nameless face in front of me. His elfish features mocked me as I racked my brain for the familiar boy's name, silently scorning me for forgetting as if to say How could you forget? The moment my eyes had made contact with the boy in Chiron's newspaper, my stomach flipped and flopped, a nagging sensation clawing at my brain, like an itch begging to be scratched. But that's just the problem, I scratch and scrape and rub, but the itch won't be satisfied. And it won't be until I can dig up the answer that it's craving, until my eerie recognition of the boy is solved, starting with how I know him and from where. But alas, I've been sprawled on my bunk for hours and all I got from my analysis was eye strain.

Sighing with defeat, I folded up the crinkled paper and set it on my bedside table, careful not to rip it's delicate pages.

As I threw myself back down on my bed, exhaustion flooded through me like a rogue tidal wave, and pulling the covers over me, I fell asleep like I'd been hit over the head with a mallet, fast and fully.

But unfortunately, when sleep took over, so did the dreams.

My feet slapped against the rugged terrain, my breaths labored, wind whipping past me, as I barreled through a town of crumbling, demolished buildings that had once towered over the land, strong and mighty. My heart rate spiked to the point I was certain that vital organ would burst from chest and scramble through the rubble until it was far, far away from me.

I didn't know what or whom I was running from, but deep down I knew I didn't want to know.

Whipping my head behind me, not slowing my pace, I scanned the area, eyes seeking out the unknown threat trailing me through the wreckage. But my eyes found nothing but ancient, deteriorating stones and a trail of dust raining down in my wake.

The buildings scattered upon the uneven concrete partially blocked my view of the road, obscuring the view of my pursuer, and it didn't help that the shadows from the setting sun blanketed this concrete jungle.

I gyrated my head back to the front and my eyes barely registered the fallen pillar lying not a foot from my feet. With reflexes I didn't know I had, I leapt over the stone slab in the nick of time, narrowly missing a hard and unpleasant fall that-with my luck- would've broken my ankle. Feet planted back on the ground, the sound of crunching gravel emitted from the impact of the soles of sneakers, alerting the cloaked figure before me of my presence.

He was abnormally tall, bony, and a thick black cloak swam around him like the River Lethe, concealing his head and face from unwanted eyes, which from the suffocating shadow enveloping him, I'm included in that list. He-it's clearly a man from his thick, broad shoulders and stockier build- held himself with a carefree air like he couldn't care either way if I lived or died. The figure was deathly pale, its hands, the only body part exposed, were as white as a sheet, as if he hadn't seen the sun in eons. And oddly enough, standing even this close to him, which is about 10 feet away, I could feel a profound sense of despair, as if everything, the rise against Kronos, the intent to rid Lotus Prison from the world, and even my existence were as pointless as writing with a pencil without any lead.

The figure stepped forward, closing the distance between us until he towered over me and I was forced to look up at him. He stood stationary a moment, eyeing me up and down-or at least I think he was, but I can't really be certain because of his hood-before circling around me, as if going through a thorough analysis of me. Once he was satisfied, he returned to his spot in front of me before speaking.

"So you are the one the Titan Lord speaks of, the one he fears will be his downfall." His voice was dark and gravely, like two swords grating together, metal on metal. In some twisted part of me, I actually thought the deep tenor of his voice sounded familiar.

I shrugged, not daring to open my mouth and challenge the figure despite my temptation to do so. But a large of part of me was urging against it and I believed it more than my impulsive and, dare I say it, stupid side.

"Hmm, you're certainly not as a grand as he made you out to be, and nor do you seem equipped to take down a Titan, especially one as formidable as Kronos. But if you've got that old bat on edge than I assume you will have to do." He said, mumbling the last part as if talking not to me, but to himself.

I had not even the slightest clue as to what he was talking about. I assume you'll have to do. You assume I have to do what? Before I could voice my thoughts, he spoke again.

"Allow me to explain." The figure said, having taken notice of my confusion, as it was clearly written on my face. "You see, I-er-How do I put this? I stole something, something of great value not only to you, but to the whole world. A vital element that could restore peace among the demigods and mortals worldwide."

"Why would you do that if you knew if could help us?" I asked, a sudden fury igniting in my stomach, a blazing burn that expanded throughout my body until I was alight with the buzz of rage. This man-this monster-, had the resolution to this growing issue all along and yet he hadn't offered it up. Why? Did he find our suffering and the brutality a delightful entertainment? Or was he in on the plot from the start, recruited by Kronos to light an anger in me that would force me to act rash and impetuously?

"No, no, nothing of those sorts…or at least they aren't now." The figure said, waving a hand dismissively, as if to push the disturbing thoughts from my mind, like the wind pushing along a white, puffy cloud. Did he just read my mind? I voiced my thought aloud, and the figure spoke again.

He gave me a look of disbelief.

"Does it look like I can read minds?"

"Well, from that little display a few seconds ago, I'd say yes."

"Not everything is as it seems, Perseus. But that is besides the point. I haven't come to chatter but to make amends for my mistakes. You see, I, and others alike, are overlooked by the gods, deemed useless, unimportant, and pushed aside despite my various talents that could be of use, precisely in a time such as this. I'd pestered those celestial fools, flaunting my powers in an attempt to prove that I'm not as trifling as they think, but after some time, they grew tired of me, banishing me to a realm littered with death and deceit. My domain is anything but pleasant and filled to the brim with suffering and despair. As you can imagine, I became angered with them and craving revenge, sought out Kronos to propose a compromise."

"Wait, wait, wait. You went to Kronos? Why would you do that? Why would you blatantly betray the gods like that?" I asked, thoroughly confused by the motives of this cloaked stranger.

"I know you think little of me for such an act, as you are loyal to the gods, but think of it this way, Percy. If you were seen as inadequate, not good enough, would you simply stand down and let the matter fall to more capable hands? I believe not. You are a hero after all; it goes against your nature to just step aside."

"But that still doesn't answer why you did it."

"No, but if you are so adamant on knowing, then why don't I just show you?" The figure stepped forward, bent forward slightly so he was close to my face, and touched the tip of his pointer finger to my forehead. The moment the soft flesh of his finger made contact with my skin, my vision darkened and the rubble-filled city scene vanished, a new one replacing it.

A pristine hallway gathered before me, voices trailing along the marble shine of the white walls, resonating through the wide corridor. Unable to make out the muffled words, I followed the winding passage until the voices grew loud and easily understood, filled with crystal clear clarity. Peeking my head around the corner at the end of the hall, I caught a glimpse of the speaker and with a jolt, I realized it was Zeus, which meant that somehow I was on Olympus.

"She is a danger to all of us should we let her live." Zeus bellowed, his voice exasperated and tinged with rage. His face was red as a cherry as his cold, icy, blue eyes glared loathingly at the god across from him, whom I'd realized was my father. "Her influence over those demigods is too strong. Letting her live could very well be the cause of our downfall."

"Brother," said Poseidon, his tone quieter, more civilized, "you know this isn't right. The girl hasn't done anything wrong. I understand why you'd think this necessary, but we can manage just fine with the girl still intact. And besides, maybe she's right, and we have been neglecting our children as she claims."

"Do not fight me on this, Poseidon. Is your head so filled with saltwater that it has eroded your brain? Bianca di Angelo is capable of so much more than simply rallying unclaimed demigods to her aid. She could very well lead those halfbloods into battle, challenging us to a duel that they would not win. Do you know how many of our children we would be forced to reduce to ash? Thousands."

"No one is forcing anything and who's to say that will even occur?" My father asked, his voice rising as his cool façade melted away faster than my appetite back at the prison. "She is a child, and if she were of any other parentage, you would not be driven to such extremes. Stop holding prejudices against the minor gods for once in your life and focus on them as a whole, as equals."

"This conversation is finished. Another word out of that sea-sucking mouth of yours and so help me, when that child of yours is born, he will be nothing but a splatter on the concrete."

Poseidon opened his mouth, rage rolling off of him in stifling hot waves, but Zeus raised his brows accusingly. He pointed a finger at my father, silently daring him to utter another word. My father remained silent, his fury still burbling like lava.

Zeus snapped his big, meaty fingers and before him appeared a girl. She looked to be about my age with silky, black hair, her skin an olive pigment matching Nico's spot on. Her posture was straight and she met Zeus's gaze head on, but in those dark eyes of hers, her fear was evident. But I felt a sense of strong admiration for the girl, as she hadn't given any outward indication that she was fearful at all and stood tall, her resolve unwavering as she stayed positioned before beings with enough power to obliterate an entire city, let alone her.

Zeus raised a cackling bolt of electricity that I'd instantly recognized to be his master bolt over his head, ready to throw. Now, I'm pretty sure he could have just blinked and had the lightening strike, but I'd assumed he wanted the whole ordeal to be made more dramatic and to rub in it to Poseidon that he'd gotten his way.

I stood frozen where I was, breath held as I waited for someone, anyone, to speak up and help her, but not a single voice piped up.

Zeus's arm tensed, and I knew that he was seconds away from letting the sparking projectile meet its mark. On a sudden impulse, I charged forward just as the bolt left his grasp and threw myself at Biance di Angelo to knock her out of its path, but to my horror I fell right through her and she lit up like a Christmas tree. But for once the thought of the holiday didn't fill me with warmth but of a heavy, cold weight that settled in my gut, like a frozen boat anchor had decided it needed refuge and my digestive organs were the best place.

My vision went pitch black once again and before I could register what was happening, I was plummeting down into the darkness , the cloaked figure's voice echoing around me, as if he were right beside me.

"Now do you understand?" the voice said. "My daughter was killed by those coldhearted Olympians and not one stood up for her. So why would I wish to continue to beg and plead for their respect when they've taken so much from me? Why not repay them the favor, which is what I intended as you will soon see? If time was permitting, I would tell you the rest of what I'd come here to inform you, but he is growing more and more aware of our interaction. A moment longer and he will be certain of our communication and all hope will be lost. I have left you a gift, Perseus. Bring it to the carrier as you were instructed and seek out the son of Hephaestus. Farewell until next time."

The voice cut out and I knew Hades had gone, but not before making a show of his disappearance by erupting into a suffocating ball of shadow that choked and gagged me as it reached my lungs.

I shot upright in bed, clutching my throat like I really was choking, and not calming until I heard a soothing voice beside me.

"Bad dream?" said her sweet, feminine voice as Annabeth pushed my bangs out of my eyes.

"Something like that." I replied, the weight still planted in my gut and confusion still clouding my mind. Why had Hades out of the gods come to see me? What had he meant when he said he wanted to make amends? I know he said he'd stolen something of value, but why, after going through all that trouble to acquire it, would he willingly hand it over so easily? I shook my head, the jumble of unanswered questions hurting my brain.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

Not at all. It was all too confusing to even put into words.

I shook my head.

We trailed off into a comfortable silence, listening to steady breathing of each other.

"What are you doing here anyway?" I asked, genially curious as to why she was in my cabin in the middle of the night.

She blushed a bright crimson. "Well, I-I…missed you. We haven't really spent a lot of time together that doesn't involve running for our lives and crazy healing gods."

I smiled and scooting over, I patted the spot on the bed beside me, lifting the blanket so she could slip beneath it. Annabeth smiled as she curled up next to me and rested her head on my chest just over the fast-paced thumping of my heart, her hand fisting a handful of my t-shirt.

We laid together, snuggled close, basking in the comfort the presence of the other brought.

In that moment, there were no monsters, no Kronos, no crazed blond-haired, blue-eyed boy who wanted to skin me alive.

There was just us just like it should be, always.

There's chapter 8. Thank you so much to those who favorited, followed, reviewed, etc. and also, thank you for being patient with me. I'm aware that I'm not the fastest at updated either because a) I'm extremely busy or b) when I do sit down and write, the chapter just doesn't flow as nicely as I'd like it to or overall I'm just not happy with it. And I know that if even I am not happy with it, then my readers won't be either. So once again, thank you all so much for being patient.

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~TwistedTrident~