This chapter is only ten pages long, but it gets the job done.

I wasn't able to fit near as much stuff into the Eris trials as I would've liked, but hey, it still works. And several things are revealed in this chapter that you'll be glad to know.

Or not, considering not all of them are good things. *shrugs nonchalantly* Oh well.

Getting closer! I have no idea if I'll actually be able to finish this before October 7, but I'm sure as Hades gonna try. If I don't, will you guys still read it till the end? Just curious. Some of you have said you will, but I don't know about all of you. Fingers crossed you will, because writing five chapters in only a little more than a week is gonna be kind of impossible.

After the last chapter, I'll be posting a very long, gratuitous author's note that explains a lot of things you guys will definitely want to read, and will also respond specifically to certain reviewers/reviews-I'll try to get to everyone. It will also answer the constant question, "Will you write a sequel?"

Anyway. That's not for a bit yet-so now, just read, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter CVI

Jason

The first thing Jason is aware of is that Piper isn't in his arms anymore-or anywhere near him. And it'd be fair to say that realization is the one that scares him most.

The second thing is that he's completely alone-there's no one else with him, and even if there was, he wouldn't be able to see them, because wherever he is, the whole place is pitch black. He can't see anything-he might as well be blind. It's disorienting, and he can't stop blinking, waiting for something to come into focus.

Suddenly a pain splits through his head-it feels like a white-hot broadaxe is cleaving through his skull. He clutches his head, crumpling to his knees, crying out once and then gritting his teeth to prevent more sound from escaping.

The pain consumes him, and when he opens his eyes again, everything's hazy-but it isn't blank darkness anymore.

He's standing on a mountain-somewhere high up, with clouds surrounding him like thick mist and rocky ground shifting beneath his feet. Every few seconds, the clouds will clear enough for him to see that he's thousands of feet up in the air, looking down at thickly wooded valleys and more rocky ridges all around. His gladius is gripped loosely in one hand, and he's wearing armor-he's missing a helmet, though, for some reason.

A sound behind him causes him to spin around, raising his sword defensively as he goes, but when he sees what's there, he lowers it in confusion.

"Reyna?" He asks, his tone questioning.

Her purple praetor's robe is swirling around her shoulders, and she's wearing her favorite Roman-style suit of armor, holding her sword offensively in one hand, her black eyes glittering with malice as she glares at him. Her black hair is coming loose from a messy braid, and the strands are blowing around her face, only adding to the threatening air as she takes a step towards him.

"Reyna, what are you doing?" He questions warily. "Where are we?"

"The original Mount Olympus." She replies. "The place where it all started; the roots of Western Civilization." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "A fitting place for you to die, isn't it?"

"Reyna, stop." Jason tells her, worried. "This isn't you. I know you-you'd never do that."

"Maybe once." She responds. "Maybe once I would have stayed on the losing side until Gaea won and we all faded into oblivion. But I'm tired of allowing others to decide for me, of only making decisions for them instead of myself." Reyna takes another step forward, her voice hardening and growing louder with every word.

"Reyna, don't." Jason pleads, shaking his head. He doesn't want to fight her, he doesn't want to hurt her-she has to stop, she has to.

"I loved you, Jason!" She shouts, flinging her unarmed hand out to make her point. "I was in love with you, and even though you didn't return my feelings, you let me believe you did until there was no going back for me!"

"I'm sorry for that, Reyna-I should never have-" Jason starts, trying to apologize, to express his sincere regret-he really never meant to hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her.

"No!" She yells, cutting him off. "You don't get to apologize. This-all of this-it's all your fault, and you are going to regret it." With that, she lunges towards him, her sword thrusting out at his chest.

Jason throws himself sideways at the last minute, feeling her blade pass just inches from his skin. When she doesn't meet any resistance, she loses her balance, stumbling forward, and all the swordsman instincts in Jason tell him to take advantage of it, but he still refuses to hurt Reyna, he still doesn't want to, and he hesitates too long. She soon regains her balance, and turns to him again, feinting left before striking right at his shoulder-her sword skates off the surface of his armor in a burst of sparks. It doesn't discourage her in the least, though-she comes at him again, seconds later, and he's forced to block her sword or get decapitated by it.

The clash of metal on metal rings around them, only faintly muffled by the clouds. The next minute is filled only by them repeatedly exchanging blows-Jason desperately defending himself against Reyna's ruthless attacks.

She lands a blow, finally-not a serious one, just a shallow cut on the side of his neck, where it joins with the shoulder. Painful, yes, but not life-threatening. Still, it's proximity to being a fatal strike shows him just how serious Reyna is. She isn't going to just snap out of it.

"Reyna, please!" He pleads. "Please, stop."

"Never." She snarls, pressing harder against him with her sword. "Not until you're dead."

She disengages her sword and raises it to thrust what would be one last time, leaving her chest undefended, and Jason parries it, shoving it forcefully to the side, before following through with a stab upwards towards her heart.

Last minute, he realizes what he's doing, and tries to stop, lessening the power behind the blow, but his aim is still true, and the blade of his sword plunges upward, through her ribcage and into her heart.

Her eyes widen, and she lets out a little gasp. Her gaze seems to truly focus on him for the first time, and then to clear, and she says his name in the familiar, tender voice he always remembers.

"Jason..." She whispers. Her expression crumples into one of betrayal, and he catches her as she falls, pulling his sword free of her chest.

"Reyna, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" He says frantically, trying to stop the flow of blood, but she looks one last time up at him before closing her eyes. Her breath stops, and with the next moment, the image all swirls away.

Now he finds himself in the same place, but on a different position on the mountain, with all of the clouds far, far above them, blocking a maroon sun that turns the clouds a bloody crimson. Less than a hundred yards away, battle is raging between an army of monsters and several dozen silver-clad defendants blocking their way.

Thalia. He thinks, and he'd love to go to her, but his attention is diverted by the fights taking place all around him.

On a ridge a few yards away, Percy and Annabeth are fighting back to back against two giants-Otis and Ephialtes. Frank, Hazel, and Leo are using similar tactics to keep Enceladus at bay.

Piper, only a few feet in front of him, is holding her own against Porphyrion-for how much longer, Jason has no idea, but she's doing pretty good on her own, considering she's fighting the thirty-foot-tall king of the giants.

Jason tries to step forward to help her, only for his legs to buckle, and his sword clatters out of his grip. Piper glances behind her at the sound, and worry flashes across her face before she turns back.

"Don't try to move, Jase! Just-stay there." She shouts back at him. "I've got this."

Blood runs into his eyes, and he blinks it away, recognizing that he must be injured-badly, if he can't even stand or hold a sword properly. That said, everything in him is straining towards her, because he knows she doesn't "have this," as she puts it. Porphyrion will overpower her, and soon, if she doesn't get help, and he's the only one not engaged with another giant.

He tries to stand again, but pain erupts through him, and he collapses back onto the rocky ground, bracing himself on one arm. So he's forced to watch, with growing horror, as Piper's offense turns to a desperate, frenzied defense.

Even as he watches, Porphyrion knocks the blade out of her hands, and when she hurriedly draws Katoptris, he crushes her arm with his hand, causing her to cry out and her fingers to involuntarily spasm and drop the dagger. The next second, Porphyrion has her pinned, and his expression is graced with a triumphant, sadistic, malicious grin as he looks to Jason.

"Time to watch your girlfriend die, Son of Jupiter!" He exclaims, and Jason lunges forward, ignoring the pain, reaching for her even as the enormous blade plunges down and through her heart, pinning her to the stone.

Her eyes fly wide, just as Reyna's did when-wait, what? Jason asks himself, confused, but the next second, any thoughts he might've had are pushed away by the crushing grief that overwhelms him when Piper's breath hitches and then stops, her eyes frozen staring at the bloody sky.

Jason reaches for her, his hand just brushing her fingers before this scene, too, whirls into oblivion.

Jason blinks at the sudden bright sun, and when he looks around, he finds that he's at Camp Half-Blood, sitting on a hill in the strawberry fields that overlooks the cabins. He's wearing plain jeans and an orange camp t-shirt, his beaded necklace at his throat-now, though, it has two beads instead of one.

His brow furrows. Why is that important? He thinks. His gaze wanders back over the cabins, and his brain goes fuzzy as he tries to remember-but the memories aren't there.

He recognizes the place as Camp Half-Blood-as home-but he can't remember why.

What is this place? He wonders. Why am I here?

There's something else, too-someone he's supposed to know, just at the edge of his mind-

"Hey, Superman." A girl's voice sing-songs, bumping him on the shoulder with her hip before plopping down on the ground next to him and flashing a smile at him. "Long day, isn't it?"

She has choppy brown hair, mixed with little braids and an eagle feather stuck in one behind her ear. Her eyes dance cheerfully at him-flashing from one color to the next, faceted and soft at the same time, with every color of the rainbow somehow present at the same time. Kaleidoscope eyes.

He feels like she should be familiar, like he should know her, but every time he grasps for the thought, it flits out of reach. His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Who are you again?"

Her smile disappears, and she glares at him. "So not funny, Jase."

Jason. He thinks. That's my name. Jason Grace.

"I don't know you." He tells her, shaking his head, and he feels a flash of pain in his heart as he says it. He should know this girl, he knows he should, but he just-can't remember. The memory isn't there.

Her glare disappears, swiftly replaced by a look of panicked concern. "You're not kidding, are you, Jason?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know you." He repeats, his tone helpless. His head and heart throb in unison, and he feels a sense that he's gone through this before-but he's met by the same frustration of not being able to remember when, or how, or why.

"I'm Piper, Jason." The girl tells him, her eyes fearful and face pale. "Your girlfriend."

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut and holding his head between his hands. "I don't have a girlfriend." Even as the words leave his lips, he flinches, wincing as his mind flexes painfully, telling him that what he said isn't true-he does have a girlfriend. But it doesn't tell him anything else, and he shakes his head again, rubbing his temples, feeling the pain throbbing through him at not being able to remember. Whatever memories that are gone, they must be important, if it physically hurts him to be unable to remember them.

Panic rises in his chest. Why can't I remember? He thinks frantically. I should be able to remember. I should know who this girl is, I should know the story of where I am and why it feels like home. WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER?

Pain cleaves through his skull, making his vision flare white even with his eyes closed, and the last thing he hears is the voice of that girl-Piper-frantically calling his name-"Jason? Jason, what's wrong? Jason!"

But then even that is gone, and his consciousness fades into darkness as the pain consumes him.

Piper

The pain in Piper's throat is the first thing she notices-an ache, like something is missing, and a raw sort of hurting that feels as if her throat has been scraped with sandpaper and then coated in acid. For some reason, it feels blocked, too-she can breathe fine, but she can't shake the feeling that something is stuck in her throat.

When she opens her eyes, she finds herself in darkness-in a cave, somewhere, she guesses. As her eyes adjust, she realizes it isn't complete blackness-there's a sort of grayish light that illuminates her surroundings enough for her to confirm that she's underground.

Her hand immediately finds Katoptris at her belt, and she grips the hilt reassuringly-strange how a knife she so detests can bring a wave of comfort when she's afraid.

She about to call out-someone has to be nearby, right? She can't be alone. But as soon as she opens her mouth, torchlight suddenly flares through the cave, the unexpected brightness momentarily blinding her. When she blinks away the spots, she finds two grotesquely deformed monsters of some sort standing in front of her-a small, slumped figure is being held between them, and she wonders briefly who it is before being distracted by another monster enters, escorting another person. She can't make out who they are, either, at least not yet, and four more monsters file in, all jerking along prisoners.

Six. She counts mentally, and a feeling of horror steals over her.

Daughter of Aphrodite. A mental voice-voices-murmur in her head. Their voice sounds snake-like, but also as if their mouths are full of broken glass and they have to speak through and around it. Your voiccce hassss left you.

She opens her mouth to ask what they mean, but they continue before she can say anything.

Sssacrificccesss. They hiss. Beautiful ssssacrificccesss to wake the goddessssss. The light suddenly flares in just the right way, and Piper catches a glimpse of Jason's pale face, his eyes rolled up into his head, blood crusted on his temple, and his neck rolling limply in a state of half-consciousness.

"Jason!" She tries to yell-but she can't make a sound. The pain flares in her throat, and she claws at her neck, trying to speak again, but there's nothing-not even so much as a squeak or a rasp.

Yesssss, daughter of Aphrodite. The voices whisper. You have no power over ussss. No more pretty wordsss to confussse our mindssss and make ussss forget. Nothing to make ussss forget our purposssse-sssservicccce to Gaea.

She tries to scream, to yell, "No!" but her voice really is gone-completely, utterly gone. She scrambles to her feet, knuckles white on the hilt of her dagger, but when she catches a glimpse of the blade, images flash in the metal-a knife raised high, a crumbling stone altar, blood spilling across the dark earth.

It derails her attention just long enough for another of the monsters to surprise her-disfigured arms encircle her arms, pulling them painfully behind her back, and Katoptris clatters out of her grip. She struggles, flailing and kicking back with her feet, but the monster doesn't seem to feel it. Her mouth opens in a soundless scream, and then she dissolves into sobs-she still can't make a sound, but her shoulders shake and tears flow endlessly from her eyes, blurring her vision.

Your friendssss will die, little girl. The voices croon. Poor, worthlessss little girl. Come, watch your beloved die.

As she watches, still desperately trying to cry out, to use her charmspeak and stop them, they drag Jason's half-conscious body over to the ancient altar in the middle of the room, shoving him to his knees in front of it. His arms are bound behind him-he's helpless, and she's helpless as well, only able to watch as they lift a curved, black blade higher and higher before swinging it down in a deadly arc.

Piper turns her face away at the last second, unable to bear seeing it, her tears spilling on the ground, and when she squeezes her eyes shut, she's not there anymore.

The cold is all she's aware of next. Ice, so cold it burns, all around her-a bitter, biting winter wind that howls and stings her skin. When she opens her eyes, her eyelashes are white with frost, and her lips are chapped and bleeding from the dry, bitterly cold air.

Every inhale feels like she's breathing in a thousand razor-sharp shards of ice, and her voice is a whisper when she tests it. Her whole body is shivering uncontrollably-violent spasms as her body attempts to warm itself.

The worst part of hell isn't fire and brimstone, she decides. It's ice, so cold and brutal it burns.

"The cold hurts, doesn't it?" A horribly familiar, icy voice asks. Piper turns, and their stands Khione, in all her pale beauty.

Piper pulls her arms away from her chest, standing tall, refusing to show weakness, even though it sends icy stabs of cold through her chest.

"What do you want, Khione?" She asks insolently, ignoring the rasp of her voice. "Isn't getting killed by me once enough for you?"

The goddess' gaze hardens, and her lip curls up into a snarl. "I have the power here, worthless girl. You're in my domain-I control how things are here. You can't do anything to me." Her mouth suddenly lifts in a malicious, sadisticly sweet smile. "But I can do what I want to you. And oh, what I'm going to do."

Piper studies Khione, just looking at her without saying a word. She is beautiful-but in a cold, distant, sharp beauty that isn't particularly welcoming. The same kind of attractiveness Hera possesses-not necessarily someone who can be truly loved. (A/N Oooohhh, BURN! [whoops-no pun intended])

"Leo was wrong." She finally says. "You were never 'hot.'"

Khione's expression hardens even more-if that's even possible. "No-I'm cold. Ice cold." She raises her hand in a clawed sort of motion at the blank white sky, and the wind suddenly whips harder around Piper, snow and ice stinging her skin-just like that, a blizzard springs up around her, surrounding her in its freezing depths, making Khione disappear in a swirl of white, and the wind makes her stumble back and forth.

Her legs stop working less than a minute into it as the temperature drops, and she collapses into the sharp, icy snow. It cuts her skin and coats her hair in a layer of blue-white frost-her blood stains the snow red in places, but the violent splash of color is soon covered by the whipping snow of the blizzard.

Her body can't keep up with the cold, and her shivering soon stops-her whole being is numb, and yet she can feel stabbing, burning pain in every inch of her. She curls into a ball to try to fend against it, but it doesn't help, and her lips swell and turn blue as the ice delves down into her bones and through her veins and into her blood. She becomes the cold, and the cold becomes her, and as she's forced to live through every second of the torturous, icy, burning pain, she can hear a distant laugh that somehow sounds like ice.

Leo

As soon as the darkness takes him, the encroaching madness he felt on that Argo only a few nights ago tears loose in his mind, wreaking havoc like a level 5 catastrophic hurricane.

In quick succession, he's assaulted with his worst memories and fears-Flash back almost nine years ago, to that day in his mother's workshop, with the flames everywhere and the door locked and that gentle EMT telling him his mom hadn't made it.

"You'll never see Calypso again." A taunting voice whispers in his ear.

"She'd never choose you anyway."

"No man ever finds Ogygia twice."

Hazel, screaming in pain-a scream that's cut off seconds later, and he sees a vision of blood spilling across rocky ground.

"You are the seventh wheel." Nemesis.

"You'll never be fully accepted."

"You're expendable; useless."

"A worthless, extra wheel that has no purpose."

Leo shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, and he somehow finds himself crouching on the ground, the heels of his hands pressing into his temples and against his ears, his elbows braced on his knees as he tries to shut out the treacherous voices.

"Your mother's death was your fault."

"She'd still be alive if it wasn't for you."

"No, it was Gaea-Gaea." He moans, pressing harder with his hands.

Frank's pale, fearful face flashes, a memory of when they were underwater and Leo tried to use his powers, only resulting in becoming the first underwater human fireball.

Blood fills his mouth, and he realizes he's bitten his tongue hard enough for it to bleed.

"Every time fire users show up, something bad happens. The last one caused the Great Chicago Fire-fire users are bad news."

"I will never take that boy into my house, not that monster, that devil! Take him away from here! Diablo, diablo-devil!"

"Don't make a promise you can't keep." Calypso's grief-filled expression as she ushered him onto the magic raft-then an image of Ogygia as he looked back from the raft, except it's burning, the sky thick with black smoke and ash, and faint cries of anguished pain from the center of the island. "Leo!" Calypso's desperate, raw voice screams for him, but he can't get to her, and now there's another voice telling him it's all his fault, that he's going to lose her to fire like he lost his mother and there's nothing he can do to stop that.

And then just flames, fire, red and orange swirling tauntingly through his head, glowing threateningly, taking over his thoughts-there's the acrid smell of ash and burning flesh, the metallic smell of blood, raw-throated yells of pain echoing in his ears-

He presses his hands so hard against his head that he feels it should be crushing his skull by now, and shakes his head as he rocks back and forth, muttering under his breath-

"No, no, it wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to-" He sobs, and whenever images of his friends show up, he physically flinches as if to get away from them. "No, I don't want to hurt you-I can't hurt you, I won't, I won't, I won't!"

One second, the flames are burning brighter than a lighthouse beacon in his mind, and the next, they disappear as if they never existed, and he goes spiraling away on the darkness, slipping into aching relief.

Percy

The ground disappears from underneath his feet, and Annabeth's hand slips from his own, and as soon as it does, his mind is assaulted with a barrage of images, his body burning with pain.

He's back in Alaska, trapped in the muskeg, drowning in the earth, sticky, liquid mud filling his ears, his nose, his eyes, settling heavily in his lungs as he tries desperately to breathe-

He's in Tartarus, in agony from numerous curses on top of each other, his blood on fire as gorgon's blood burns him alive from the inside out, crushing guilt weighing down his shoulders as he thinks of all the people he never gave a second thought.

Nico, Calypso, Bob-

And then other faces are flashing before him-Bianca, her pale face filled all at once with fear and grim determination as she runs forward before he can stop her and sacrifices herself to save him, along with Grover, Thalia, and Zoe; Zoe, staring at the stars, dying from the wound that she never should've had; Pollux choking up as he lights his twin brother's shroud on fire; Beckendorf, meeting Percy's eyes and then grimly reaching up to the watch on his wrist, closing his eyes as he sets off the explosion that takes his life; Michael Yew, yelling at Percy that the bridge is weak, refusing to retreat with the others, and then that moment when Percy turned and found only his bow splintered on the asphalt; Ethan, sacrificing himself to give Percy a chance at defeating Kronos; Luke, his fingers digging painfully into Percy's arm as he makes him promise not to let it happen again-

Tartarus, laughing down at him, calling him weak and announcing that he should be honored that he's called the attention of such a powerful Primordial. His dark voice, later whispering treacherous things in Percy's mind, torturing him with horrible nightmares, showing him what will happen if he doesn't give in-

His own hand, knuckles white, plunging a dagger into Annabeth's heart even as he holds her in his arms-

NO! Percy screams mentally, defiantly, shoving that image away, trying to claw his way back to the others, to sanity, to freedom-

Better to give up now, little demigod, Tartarus' voice booms, almost a shout. You wouldn't want your poor girlfriend to be killed by your own hand, now would you?

If I give in to you, Percy thinks back, teeth gritted, That's exactly what will happen.

Tartarus just laughs, his amusement echoing endlessly-and with that sound filling his ears, the images start up again.

Nico's face, distorted with rage as Percy tells him of Bianca's death, how he failed to keep her safe-

Annabeth's wide eyes, full of fear-for him, afraid of him as he controls Akhlys' poison and forces her to choke on her own snot, using her weapons against her-

He's alone in the Cocytus, drowning in the icy waters of the River of Lamentation, fighting desperately for the surface yet weighted down by the voices whispering to him that it's all pointless, to just give up, there's no use, and there's water filling his lungs and the current drags him down, his desperate hand finally pulled down, still reaching for life-

His skin is burning from the acidic waters of the River Styx, but this time, he can't remember why he's doing it, why he's in the river, and there's no voice or memories to guide him and he can feel the water stripping away his mind, his memories, his soul-his very being-

GIVE IN. Tartarus' voice, louder, forceful, breaks into the images, shredding it all away and giving him a brief reprieve from the torture only to replace it with a battle of wills.

NO. Percy replies, just as forceful, and fights back even harder.

Your fighting is hopeless, boy. Tartarus spits the word out like an insult, his voice sneering. Give up.

NEVER. Is all Percy can manage, panting, gasping for breath, somehow still fending off the Primordial's struggle for possession.

I WILL CRUSH YOU. Tartarus responds, and his anger nearly shreds Percy's consciousness-but it doesn't.

"I won't give up." He says out loud, through gritted teeth. "You'll never get me."

Tartarus presses on him with even more force, but Percy won't give.

He's jumping across the twenty feet chasm through which the murderous river winds, using the new dark energy he's found within himself to launch himself forward, landing several hundred yards beyond-

Percy calls on his powers, feeling a painful tug in his gut, somehow pulling against the earth, dragging up ancient underwater rivers and causing the ground to shake.

He opens his eyes, using his anger at Tartarus to fuel an ever-increasing battle of wills-and he somehow gains the advantage. Only for a second, but it's enough, and everything swirls away into the dark.

Annabeth

When Annabeth opens her eyes, she first assumes she's in the dark, because she can't see anything. Then a breeze springs up, gently ruffling her hair and cooling her skin, that smells of cool mountain air, and she knows she's outside-which, having been confirmed, only confuses her. If she's outside, it shouldn't be so dark that she can't see a thing.

She blinks frantically, trying to clear her vision, but it doesn't help. The breeze picks up into a slight wind, and when it dies down, she feels sudden warmth against her skin-sun? But that makes even less sense...

She takes a step forward, stumbles. Her arms fly out instinctively to try and guide her, to keep her balance, but she still can't see, and she feels panic rising in her chest along with the warmth on her skin.

Blind. The word suddenly springs up in her thoughts, and she wants to ignore it, but she knows it's the only logical explanation. Blind. I'm blind.

The realization does nothing to quell her rising panic-if anything, it makes it worse, and she shuffles forward another step, dragging her foot along the ground, carefully feeling for any obstacles.

"Percy?" She calls out, her voice pleading. There's no answer, and a frightened sob rises in her throat-she chokes it off, squeezing her eyes shut to ward against tears. She can't let herself lose it.

"The curse of Polyphemus." Raspy voices whisper-eerily like the arai, except the collective voice is out loud. "Blind, blind, alone on his island, he cursed Nobody, that if he should live in darkness, so shall his tormentor."

"Blind." They whisper. "Blind, alone, all alone."

Annabeth spins around, trying to find the source of the voices, but she can't see to look where they're coming from and it's messing with her mind.

"Who's there?" She cries, but the voices only laugh.

"Poor little daughter of Athena." They croon. "Poor blind wise girl, all alone, all alone."

Her hands rise to her eyes, harshly rubbing against the lids, trying to scrub vision back into them, but when she opens them again, the world around her is still darkness.

"Percy, please!" She calls, but still, there's no answer.

"Your boyfriend isn't here." The harsh voices hiss. "No son of Poseidon to save you this time. You're alone, all alone, little blind girl, scared and all by yourself."

Annabeth stumbles back, shaking her head, tripping over a loose rock and nearly falling. "No." Is all she can say.

"Yes." The voices snarl. "Die, wisdom's daughter!"

She screams as she feels talons cutting at her face, her shoulders, her arms, cries out in pain when they find her eyes-and then it's gone. Just like that, it's all gone, and she's alone again, but she's still in darkness and that scares her more than anything.

In the next place, she can see again, and she takes a moment to just blink around, savoring her sight, before suddenly realizing that she's in the midst of a battlefield and there are screams ringing around her, and the loudest sound of all is the tearing sound of her own sobs.

She doesn't register the sound as coming from her, at first, or the violent shuddering of her chest and shoulders, but the horrible, hiccuping sobs are hers, and she doesn't even realize why until the rest of her senses start working again.

She's on the ground, on her knees, her sword discarded to her right, and Percy's head is in her lap. His lips are blue, his hair matted with blood, and his skin is pale, pale, pale.

The sight makes fresh waves of panicky grief rise through her, crashing in her heart and making the horrible sobs rise to a crescendo. As her fingers frantically stroke through his hair, her other hand gripping, white-knuckled, onto his shoulder, he swallows, his lips parting, a harsh, rattling breath all he can manage.

"Percy." She cries. "Percy, don't leave me, you can't leave me, you can't die. You promised you'd never leave me again, you promised, Percy!" His eyelids flutter, his breath hitching once before resuming again. "As long as we're together, remember, Seaweed Brain?"

His eyes open halfway, and focus blearily on her tear-stained face hovering over him. "Wise Girl." He murmurs. His eyelids start to droop again, leaving only slits.

"Percy, don't leave me." Annabeth repeats frantically, holding onto him even harder, her fingers digging painfully into his shoulder-she knows it has to hurt him, but she doesn't care, because maybe it'll keep him awake.

His eyes open back up completely, and his beautiful sea green eyes show one moment of shining clarity as they fix on hers. "Never." He manages, and his hand reaches shakily up to hers and squeezes her fingers once, hard, before they fall limp to his side and his eyes close and his breathing hitches again-but this time it doesn't start again.

"Percy?" Another sob builds in her chest, and she pulls his hair harshly back from his forehead, stroking his face, trying to wake him-but he doesn't move. "Percy!" She yells, but the word dissolves into tears and she bends, heartbroken, over his motionless body.

She's standing when she opens her eyes again, and she stumbles back a step, hiccuping once at the memory of a crushing grief that's no longer there. Percy, wasn't Percy dead? She saw him, she saw his body, he was gone-but no, her cheeks are dry, and her fingers aren't stained by his blood anymore.

There's a different feeling, now, though-an instinctual, paralyzing fear that has her muscles frozen in place and the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

Wherever she is, it's dark-not pitch black, and not the darkness of blindness, but the near-black gray of somewhere underground. A cave? Some sort of tunnel, maybe.

She reaches out her hand, touching a wall, and comes in contact with something sticky-she pulls her arm away as quick as possible, and when she looks at her fingers, they're tangled in thick cobwebs.

The tunnel under Rome. She thinks. The place the spiders came from-the tunnel that led to the cavern where she fought Arachne.

The place where she and Percy fell to Tartarus.

She shudders involuntarily, and it doesn't stop-she shivers from fear as if standing in a blizzard, and her pale fingers shake uncontrollably. She takes a step backwards, almost without thinking about it, and every inch of her is screaming at her to run.

But logic tells her that she can't-that all she'll find is a dead end.

She draws her knife-for a moment, a rush of nostalgic comfort floods her from the familiar feeling of holding her old dagger, now lost far, far below her, somewhere in the depths of Tartarus, along with Daedalus' laptop.

Whispers of eerie sound, like restless spirits, suddenly grow louder and then stop altogether, and the skin prickles along her arms as her hair stands up on end.

You tricked me. A voice hisses in her head.

Arachne, Annabeth thinks, and it takes everything in her not to turn and run to try to escape that voice.

"Arachne." She says out loud, naming the voice.

Perseus Jackson killed me in your name. Arachne whispers. For that, he will suffer, and it was once my wish that he would watch you die, but now that I have you here in front of me, this opportunity is too sweet to miss.

The whispers start up again, and a paralyzingly cold fear grips Annabeth's heart. Spiders, she thinks. One of her biggest fears.

Suffer well, daughter of Athena. Arachne laughs, and in the next second, light flares in the tunnel, showing Annabeth the tens of thousands of spiders surrounding her-on the walls, on the ground, on the arched ceiling above her.

She tries to run, but something she can't see trips her, and she falls-the next second, a wave of spiders overwhelms her, swarming up her legs and into her hair, drowning her in their numbers.

She screams, slashing with her dagger, but it does nothing and their painful bites are raising red welts on every inch of her exposed skin.

Then, suddenly-blessed silence. And Annabeth falls into it, her paralyzing fear still freezing her heart in its cold grip.

Frank

Frank blinks open his eyes, still shuddering, sure that he's about to be consumed in a fiery inferno of orange and red-but instead, he finds himself back with the others, Hazel's hand held tight in his, blinking her own eyes up at him. The ground beneath them is shaking, for whatever reason, but it soon lessens to small tremors, and he doesn't think much of it.

"Frank." Hazel whispers, and her face crumples in on itself-he pulls her into his arms, and she doesn't protest. "My curse-it-" She starts to explain, voice strained, muffled against his chest.

"It's okay." He murmurs. "You don't have to explain."

She looks up at him gratefully before burying her face back against him, and he just holds her, trying not to let his mind dwell on the tortures of whatever it was he just experienced.

"What was that?" Jason's shaky voice speaks up, and he and Hazel both turn forward. "It was like reliving all of my worst fears at once, going through some sort of-"

"Fear landscape." Annabeth finishes, her voice surprisingly steady even though her face is pale as death. At Piper's odd look, she explains further. "It's a term I read in a book-a simulation where you live your fears and have to find a way to defeat them."

"Sounds accurate." Leo says, rubbing his forehead.

Percy's back is to them, and suddenly, without warning, he turns and punches the tunnel wall next to him, breaking through the rock and creating an unstable shifting in the ground beneath their feet.

Everyone's face shows their alarm, but none more so than Annabeth-except that it's more than alarm, on her part, or concern. There's fear in her eyes, too.

Annabeth

The look on Percy's face right now scares Annabeth more than anything she experienced in her 'fear landscape,' as she decided to call it. His teeth are gritted, lips a thin line in his pale face, tight with anger. He heaves in harsh breaths through his nose, glaring at the wall as if he could pulverize it with his gaze.

"Percy..." She says, and puts a hand lightly on his arm. He closes his eyes, his breathing somehow coming easier at her touch, and the anger on his face dissolves into something else-something she doesn't recognize.

The muscles of his arm and back are pulled taut, warding against some invisible pain, and she wonders if he's having another pain attack from the arai curse. It doesn't seem the same, though, for some reason she can't identify.

"This isn't right." He murmurs, so only she can hear.

"I know-" She starts to reply, but he shakes his head.

"No, not that. This isn't right." He says, geturing jerkily around him, referring, she assumes, to the test. "The gods shouldn't be testing us-either way, whether we're worthy or not, we're all they have."

Annabeth had this thought herself, when she first heard Eris' explanation, and it nagged at her, but the gods haven't exactly been courteous in the past. "I know, Percy, but-"

"They say they want to test how devoted we are to each other, that we're worthy to be their heroes and won't screw things up when the time comes, but that makes no sense. It's not like they have another option." He continues angrily. "And I would've thought my dad, and the rest of the gods who're on our side, would've been against anything that could potentially weaken us."

Annabeth opens her mouth, ready for another attempt at calming him, but then something registers-he is right. The gods don't have another option. Why would they be 'testing' them? Athena, as harsh as she is, is still the goddess of wisdom-she'd realize the test makes no sense. She would've fought against it, and so would Poseidon-he cares too much for Percy to risk his own son harm.

And then, almost as soon as she asks the question, she knows the answer. The gods don't want to risk them harm-and the trials might be weakening them in a way, but it also strengthens them. And they were promised that any injuries or exhaustion they retained would be healed as soon as the test ended, leaving them only with their new strengths and experiences. And the excelerated time-if the gods truly wanted to 'test' them, they could've just let them ride out those last eight days until the Feast of Spes, with hordes of monsters attacking them and keeping them up all hours of the night, weakening them, testing their endurance. That actually would've held a lot more merit than these so-called Eris trials that were set up for them.

Plus, she's seen the gods' reactions to the deaths of their children. It hurts them, as reluctant as they are to admit it. Look at Hades-Pluto-whichever-he refused to acknowledge Hazel's escape from the Underworld so that he wouldn't have to pull her back-so that she could have her second chance. Poseidon has helped Percy on numerous occasions over the years, and Athena has done the same for Annabeth. They wouldn't be so heartless as to create a test just for the purpose of deciding if the Seven are 'worthy.'

Which means they have a different reason. Some ulterior motive-

Oh. Annabeth thinks.

Of course the gods wouldn't want them to die or get seriously injured before the Feast of Spes-partially because they're their children, and partially because it would fail the prophecy before it was ever put in action. They'd want to keep them as safe as possible, but of course they couldn't admit to doing that, considering it's against the ancient laws they have. And they also knew that the Seven would have more of a chance of survival if they worked together-by telling them that they were about to be tested on their ability to work as a team, the gods effectively united them more than a few days of constant battles could ever have done.

As for the acceleration of time-the same reason. It creates that much less of a chance that they'll get hurt or killed before August 1. The gods are giving them the best chance they ever could at winning.

Annabeth opens her mouth to tell Percy this, but before she can, the tunnel warps around them, and she finds herself holding Percy's hand tightly enough that it has to be hurting him-but all he does is squeeze gently back.

When the world stops spinning, they're standing on the deck of the Argo II, bathed in the light of a brilliant sunrise, in full view of the city of Athens, perfectly whole, perfectly clean, their shredded clothing the only evidence of the tests.

And that means that it's-

"August 1st." Percy confirms, standing next to her, whatever dark thing that was clinging to him before gone for now. "The Feast of Spes."

About time. *collapses wearily in chair* I finished this chapter in a total of less than ten hours spanned across three days-ten pages in that much time. And this was so NOT easy writing. But baby, that was speed writing like I've never done before.

So tell me (*insert sly grin*)-what'd you think of Percy's POV?

I love you, don't get kidnapped by a field of grass, stay away from hydras (except Peanut), and eat some blue food in honor of our favorite hero, PERSEUS FREAKING JACKSON.