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And... Anthony Hopkins. That's how I imagine a certain someone in this chapter...


"Not faring well?" A faint voice asked. The same voice I had heard earlier…

"Are you real?" I asked weakly. The shape blurred as I stared at it. When I looked away, just looked at him out of the corner of my eye—it focused, sharpened.

"Real. Funny term." The old man said, walking towards me and Annabeth. He looked like he could easily be sixty, seventy—but he looked sharp, alert. Not like some smelly old person that would be sitting around talking about 'the good old days.' His hair was very short, sparse, and pure white. The eyes caught my attention… they were glowing faintly, like the moon. "What is real depends on who you ask," The old man remarked. He looked like the ghost, the hallucination I had seen earlier, the man talking about why people die in the wilderness…

"Who are you, then?" I asked. He chuckled. Not harshly, or cruelly. Chuckled like an old man about to explain something to a child. I guess from his point of view, he was.

"No one you've ever met." He said softly. "But you still did me a kindness, when you were offered a great reward. You should have been glad for vengeance. But you asked for the opposite."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, shivering in the chill. Annabeth and I had made it down the mountain far enough that freezing wasn't a danger, but it was still cold and we were exhausted. She was sleeping. "Why are you here? Are you a dead person? A ghost?"

"No… no, I'm not dead. And I am here because I am one of the few who has any strength, here." The old man said. He sat down on a boulder next to me, wrapping his coat tighter around him. "I am Morpheus." I stared at him tiredly. He blurred, but not as much as before.

"The god of dreams." I said unnecessarily. He nodded, rubbing his hands together. They were mottled, blotches and dark veins on his hands standing out again the pale skin. "You fought for Kronos… you put the city to sleep." He nodded again, but he didn't look bitter, stung, or even surprised at my comment.

"Indeed. And after you defeated Kronos, you asked for peace—and for minor gods such as myself to be given respect." He said quietly. "As I said, you did me a kindness."

"Why are you here?" I asked blearily. "You weren't sent here… and Nico said even Hades won't go into Tartarus." He shrugged, looked around at the desolate landscape.

"I can be here, because those here dream of escape. Of seeing the sky again." He said regretfully. "In the end, when you have nothing—you can still have hope. You can still dream. That's what dreams are, mostly… the things people desperately want. Sometimes, they can become real." He looked at my shivering, at Annabeth's fitful sleep, and waved a hand. Around us, the snow vanished, replaced by my mom's apartment. Annabeth was no longer on the ground—she was wrapped in a blanket, lying on the couch. Morpheus and I were sitting in two comfy chairs by the fireplace. The twilight gloom was gone, replaced by a dim lamp and the glow of the fire. But it wasn't solid… it shimmered, almost ghostly.

"What is this?" I questioned. The cold dulled, flickered between warmth and icy chill.

"It is your dream. What you hope for." Morpheus said patiently. He held his hands out towards the fireplace. "What has been keeping you going in this place."

"It's not very real…" I muttered. Morpheus nodded sadly.

"It can only be as real as you see it." He explained. "As strong as your dream of returning to it." He took a compass out of his coat, checked it, then held it up for me to see. "That's your direction, if you wish to go to the House of Hades, and directly back into the mortal world. Dangerous, but perhaps not as much as going back through the Underworld."

"Can you help us get out of here?" I asked, trying to be more hopeful. Around me, things became a shade more solid. Annabeth seemed a little more peaceful. The fitful look on her face left, became more normal.

"If we were in the mortal world, I could transport you to wherever you wished… summon a feast, or allies to protect you." Morpheus chuckled ruefully. "But here, my power is a weak shadow of what it is above, where dreams can so easily become reality."

"So… no?" I said. The ghostly apartment flickered, giving flashes of the wasteland again.

"I can't get you out of here." He said. "But I can still help you keep going. I can hide you from the eyes of those who would do you harm. As long as your dream survives, as long as you have hope of returning home, I will be able to help." He saddened a little, looking at Annabeth. "You should have let her fall—the blame would have been her mother's to bear, not yours. Your life is more important than hers." I didn't quite know what to say. I watched Annabeth breathing for a few moments, remembering when she got out of the Argos II at New Rome… when I was in the River Styx, and had a vision of her pulling me up out of the water...

"She is my life." I said quietly, feeling a little more at peace, more sure that we would make it through this. My doubts ebbed away, beaten back by a feeling that as long as she was alright, I would be, too. We always managed to come through.

To my surprise, Morpheus suddenly laughed; a warm, friendly sound.

Around us, my home shimmered, became nearly solid, and abruptly vanished. The cold returned, jolting Annabeth awake and hitting me like a slap in the face. I turned around a few times, looking for the old man.

Morpheus was gone. All that remained of the ghostly apartment was a small blue thermos on the boulder where he had been resting, along with the compass. I picked the thermos up, reading the words on the attached note.

Keep hoping, Percy.

I unscrewed the plastic cup off the top, and removed the plug. Steam wafted out, and I smelled a familiar drink. Annabeth rubbed her eyes blearily, breathing on her hands. Confusion flickered across her face as she looked around, remembered where we were. She looked crushed, like she was fighting tears.

"I dreamed we were out of here…" She said flatly, despair in her voice as she sat up. "That we were—"

"At my mom's apartment?" I finished. I held out the cup, trying to keep my hand steady. She looked at me incredulously, but took the hot chocolate and drank, pausing in between sips as though it was scalding hot.

"What happened?" She asked.

"Morpheus." I said shortly, rubbing my arms. "He appeared."

"And left us hot chocolate?" Annabeth asked skeptically. "Helpful guy."

"He explained something…" I said. "About hope. Dreaming. As long as we don't give up hope, as long as we dream of going home, he can help us."

"Why can he be hear and not even Thanatos will enter?" She asked. I didn't answer, but carefully sipped some hot chocolate from the thermos. It tasted exactly like the hot chocolate my mom makes on cold nights. The heat was shocking, spreading through me. Sensation returned to my hands. I could even feel my toes again. I showed her the compass.

"So do we know which way to go?" Annabeth asked. "To get to the gates?" I nodded.

"Hopefully… we get met with reinforcements." I mused. "Nico explained… the doors of death have to be sealed from both sides. From Tartarus, and the mortal world."

"So someone is stuck here, and has to go to the Underworld?" Annabeth said. I nodded, remembering warnings given to me long ago. Once you are in his realm he will never willingly let you leave…

"It's not going to be us." I said flatly. "Whatever team that goes back through the Underworld, it has to be with Nico. Someone Hades won't kill." Annabeth looked relieved. I was, too. It would be hard enough to make it to the doors. To get to the doors, then trek back through to reach the Underworld? Suicide. "We meet the others at the gates and get out of here."