Percy's POV:
The air inside the truck was thick and stale, heavy with the scent of dust and old fast food wrappers. Sunlight beat down on the metal roof, turning the interior into a rolling oven. We had pulled into Las Vegas, a shimmering mirage rising from the Nevada desert, a welcome pit stop only because Annabeth's eyelids were starting to droop like wilting flowers after hours of relentless driving. My own legs were cramped, protesting the confines of the truck bed where I'd been unceremoniously dumped hours ago. Honestly, stretching out in the back was marginally better than being sandwiched between Grover and a bag of monster repellent, but still, confinement was confinement. We had plenty of time left on the quest, a luxurious week by my estimation, so a breather in this… place… shouldn't derail us too much. Not that I was complaining about the break, far from it. But a nagging unease, a cold dread that had settled deep in my gut, was far more bothersome than any physical discomfort. It was that damn dream.
I replayed the fragmented images in my mind, trying to grasp at some coherent meaning, some thread to follow. Even confessing the jumbled mess to Khione back at the Hoover Dam rest stop hadn't untangled the knot in my brain. "All dreams have meaning, Percy," she'd said, her voice echoing a sentiment I'd heard a million times before, "Especially for demigods. It's probably tied to your quest." Great. Just what I needed. The thought sent another shiver down my spine. Was this dream a premonition? Were Grover and Annabeth in danger? The images were blurry, indistinct, but the feeling, the icy fear, was sharp and clear. And then, as if the Fates weren't content with just a dose of existential dread, my brain decided to dredge up that memory. The one I'd buried deep, locked away with iron chains and celestial bronze. It was hard enough to claw my way back from the darkness the first time. Why did I have to relive it now? Why did the universe insist on twisting the knife, rubbing salt in wounds that were barely healed? Losing someone you loved… it was a gaping hole in your soul, a constant ache that no ambrosia or nectar could soothe. The Fates must just get a kick out of watching me suffer. They probably had a betting pool going on how many times they could make me cry before I broke completely.
"Hey Perce? You okay?" Grover's voice, soft and laced with genuine concern, cut through my dark thoughts. I blinked, pulling myself back to the reality of the sweltering Vegas parking lot. Annabeth stood beside him, her grey eyes narrowed, a crease of worry etching itself between her eyebrows. When had they gotten here? Had they been watching me stew in my own misery this whole time?
"Nope. Not even remotely." I pushed myself up into a sitting position, kicking aside a stray empty can of soda, and brushed the grime off my shorts. "Just wrestled with one of the worst nightmares of my life. And that's saying something, considering my nightly entertainment usually involves fire-breathing chihuahua puppies and exploding toilets." I forced a weak grin, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. I hopped down from the truck bed, feeling the grit of the pavement beneath my bare feet.
"Wanna talk about it?" Annabeth asked, her tone gentle, devoid of any of the usual analytical sharpness. I shrugged. What did I have to lose? Maybe voicing the nightmare would lessen its power, exorcise the demons lurking in my subconscious. So, as we started walking, aimlessly drifting through the throngs of people milling around the sidewalks of Las Vegas, I began to recount the dream. My mouth seemed to move on autopilot as I took in the overwhelming spectacle of the city. Neon signs screamed for attention, their garish colours painting the dusk sky. Beyond the gaudy displays, a hazy orange sun bled across the horizon, illuminating a thick veil of pollution that hung in the air like a shimmering, toxic curtain. The skyline, a jagged silhouette of steel and glass, pierced through the warm glow like a monstrous, artificial mountain range. Millions of lights pulsed and flickered, transforming the dense mass of skyscrapers into a glittering, concrete galaxy. People were reduced to tiny pinpricks of colour, flowing like blood cells through the city's arteries, and cars, miniature metal beetles, streamed along the wide boulevards. Despite the late hour, the city throbbed with a frantic, relentless energy. People were streaming into movie theaters, spilling out of casinos, heading for smoky jazz bars tucked away in the downtown labyrinth. By the time I finished recounting the first part of the dream, the horrifying, fragmented images of… well, them… Grover and Annabeth both looked years older, their faces etched with a mixture of concern and disbelief.
"Yeah… it wasn't a pretty picture," I muttered, kicking a loose pebble down the sidewalk. "But that wasn't all." They both stared at me, eyes wide, mouths slightly agape, like I'd just announced I could fly. More? Apparently, my subconscious was a sadist, determined to maximize my suffering. "I really didn't want to go back to sleep after that," I confessed, the memory of the dream-Annabeth and dream-Grover's torment still sending shivers down my spine.
"I bet," Grover said in a low, sympathetic voice. "I can't even imagine how it felt."
"No, you can't…" I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "Anyway, even though I was terrified of falling asleep again, I couldn't force my eyes to stay open. It was like… something was pulling me back under."
"Well, we've been through a lot," Annabeth jumped in, her brow furrowed in thought. "Exhaustion can hit you hard, even demigods."
"You don't understand," I insisted, frustration creeping into my voice. "I can usually push through exhaustion. I can stay awake for days if I need to. But last night… it was different. It was like some invisible force was dragging me back down. I tried everything to resist. I splashed cold water on my face. I even punched myself in the arm, tried distracting myself with… with, I don't know, mental math problems about hydra heads. Nothing worked. I was just… gone. Then, I was thrown into this… vision. Of something in the Underworld. Something evil and cold, like staring into the abyss itself."
"What happened?" one of them whispered. I was too lost in the replay of the dream to register who asked.
"It was… a conversation. Between that… thing… and an invisible guy. I couldn't see either of them clearly. Just… voices. Harsh and grating. Deep and menacing. I just… listened. It was about the bolt. I'm almost certain of it. And about wanting to bring it to… to him."
"Him? Who is 'him'?" Annabeth pressed, her voice edged with urgency.
"I don't know! They never said a name. He just kept ranting and raving, going on and on about deceiving people, about the humans being worthless pawns. He was furious with the invisible guy, calling him useless for not delivering the bolt sooner, for 'failing him.' But then… then he said something that really made my blood run cold. He said that once he has both items…"
"Both items? What items, Percy? What did he say?" Annabeth practically vibrated with anxious energy.
"That was it." My voice dropped to a near whisper. "That's when… it… he… noticed me. He knew I was there, listening. He was furious that I'd interrupted their little meeting. And then… he just… cast me out. Out of my own dream. I… I think we have a traitor at Camp Half-Blood," I finished, the words hanging heavy in the humid Vegas air. Even to my own ears, it sounded unbelievable, paranoid. But the icy dread in my gut, the lingering chill from the dream… it was undeniable. And that voice… that deep, menacing voice… I knew I'd heard it before. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, a flicker of recognition sparked, a terrifyingly familiar note that I just couldn't quite place.
We strolled around in silence. No matter how many times I replayed it in my head, I couldn't make sense of it. No one wanted to believe it, hell, I still don't believe it. The weight of it pressed down on me, a dull ache in my chest. I was brought out of my spiraling thoughts when we entered a hotel. The automatic doors hissed open, revealing a brightly lit lobby. We approached the front desk in a daze, got room keys without a word, and shuffled down a carpeted hallway to our rooms for the night. I was so lost in my thoughts, the implications of what we had just witnessed still reeling in my mind, that I didn't even register the gaudy floral wallpaper or the generic scent of cleaning products that hung in the air. We didn't exchange a single word as we dispersed. Annabeth, always practical, quietly claimed the bed. Grover, ever the gentle soul, took the couch. I knew sleep was out of the question for me tonight. Not in this state.
For the next few hours, stretched out on the floor with my back against the cool wall, my thoughts settled on two things. First was the lingering unease from the first dream, the unsettling premonition it carried, and what exactly it had in store for me. Second, and more immediately pressing, was the mysterious guy in the second dream. His eyes, even in the hazy dreamscape, had felt intensely real, and his whispered warning echoed in my memory. If it was someone from camp, some part of me desperately wanted to believe they wouldn't act in such a way, so threatening and cryptic. But the truth was far more complicated. There are too many people at camp nursing old grudges, too many demigods with a chip on their shoulder, eager to spit in the faces of the gods who supposedly governed their lives. If I had to take a guess, and gods knew I hated guessing, it would probably be an undetermined child. The gods, draped in their godly arrogance, always acted so superior, but they were the architects of so much of their own misery. Creating demigods, making promises they didn't keep, then deciding to sweep the messy results under the celestial rug. Sooner or later, that kind of neglect, that casual dismissal, was bound to breed resentment, something far worse than just wanting a few answers or some petty payback.
Always, always, there are more paths than clues. Frustration gnawed at me. I slumped further onto the scratchy hotel carpet, hands shoved deep into my pockets, waiting, pathetically hoping, for an answer to magically materialize in this dingy room. I turned slowly, eyes drifting around without really focusing, not even bothering to truly take in the bland details of the room. The generic art print on the wall, the muted television displaying static - none of it registered. Not once had this kind of passive hopefulness, this wishful thinking, ever led to anything other than more questions. For the first time since this insane journey began, since I'd been dragged into this mess yet again, my carefully constructed mask of coping completely crumbled. My face felt heavy, devoid of any pretense. My eyes kept wandering, almost against my will, to the cheap particleboard cabinet pretending to be filled with nice clothes, to the nightstand drawers probably filled with nothing more than Gideon's Bibles and maybe, generously, a pen, to the sheer, soul-crushing ordinariness of the room itself.
Either way, undetermined children, the unclaimed ones, needed to know that there were people who actually cared for them, people willing to fight for them, and not just use them as pawns in some divine game. "Safe place for demigods," I muttered under my breath, the phrase tasting like ash in my mouth. Safe place my ass. It's only safe, and worthwhile in the eyes of Olympus, for people who bring their parents, their godly parents specifically, something to brag about, something to compare and contrast. A child to hold up as a shining example of their divine lineage. Pitiful. This kind of environment fostered kids dreaming of parental approval, desperately clawing for a way to prove themselves worthy. Like Annabeth and Athena, forever chasing an impossible standard. Or Grover striving for the approval of the Satyr Council Elders, hoping to finally be recognized as something more than just a screw-up.
I knew, at one point, I had desperately wanted to prove myself to my dad, Poseidon. But somewhere along the way, I'd changed my way of thinking. Or maybe it changed me. It didn't matter anymore what the gods, or even my own father, thought of me. Not like it ever truly mattered, but now it felt truly insignificant. Right now… I didn't want to die because of a pissed-off god and his colossal ego issues. Or anyone else for that matter. I'd lost enough family already, too many friends sacrificed. I wasn't about to start down that road again.
My thoughts continued to swirl in the stifling hotel room for what felt like an eternity. Then, finally, I actually looked out the window. The sky blazed with the harsh glare of the sun, positioned way, way over the horizon. That couldn't be right. It had only been a couple of hours since we'd checked in, tops. "Wake UP!" I shouted, adrenaline jolting me awake, or at least more awake. I jumped up, shaking the edge of the bed and then the couch. But the neatly made bed was empty, the couch cushions undisturbed. Where were they? What was going on!? Panic began to prickle at the edges of my composure. I dashed out of the room, bursting into the hallway, and got my first real, unfocused glance at the hotel. It- it was… freaky. Unnerving. So many flashing machines and bizarre contraptions littered the hallway and the open lobby beyond. People, seemingly oblivious to everything, were just… sitting there, faces slack with vacant contentment, or laughing hysterically at something on a screen. They had absolutely everything, from simulated roller coaster rides and gravity-defying adrenaline rushes, to all sorts of glowing games and mountains of food that smelled suspiciously artificial. This wasn't normal. This was nowhere near what normal was. My gut screamed danger.
Terror propelled me forward. I ran from machine to machine, each one more outlandish than the last, frantically searching, desperately trying to find my friends in this bizarre, manufactured paradise. Then I saw them. Across the garish lobby, bathed in the neon glow of a thousand screens. Annabeth was hunched over a complex building game, her brow furrowed in concentration as she manipulated virtual blocks. Grover, impossibly, was attached to some kind of deer simulator, except instead of nature scenes, the screen blared with pixelated humans running in terror as a digital deer, presumably him, chased them down. What in the Hades?! This was insane. I grabbed them both by the wrists, yanking them away from their digital diversions. "Come on!" Without explanation, I dragged them towards a ridiculously ornate fountain in the center of the lobby, plastered with fake cherubs and shooting jets of chemically blue water. Ready to get the hell out of there. "NO wait!" They both shouted in unison, belatedly snapping out of their trances. But I didn't hesitate. I shoved them both, unceremoniously, into the fountain's lukewarm, chlorine-tainted water. The familiar rush of water magic enveloped us, and we rematerialized with a spluttering gasp outside, dripping and disoriented, in another, equally fancy fountain, this one positioned just outside the hotel's garishly lit entrance.
I didn't even give them a chance to catch their breaths, to fully register what had just happened. I just kept moving, dragging them both, still dripping, back towards the beat-up rental truck. I threw open the back doors and let the two travel-worn animals, Gladiola and Antoinette, go free. They deserved that much. Since they were blessed by Grover and I, touched by a satyr and a son of Poseidon, they should at least have a fighting chance of reaching safety on their own, even in this strange place. Without another wasted second, I unhitched the horse trailer from the back of the truck and then rushed back to the front cab. Not before I noticed a large, brightly lit billboard across the street, displaying today's date in flashing neon letters. June twentieth. My blood ran cold. June twentieth. My anger, simmering beneath the surface for days, slowly began to boil over, rising with a sickening heat. I stomped back to the front passenger door, wrenched it open, and slammed it shut with bone-jarring force. Turning to Annabeth, who was already behind the wheel, looking pale and confused, I said one simple, chilling thing. "Drive." My voice was as stale and flat as desert sand, utterly void of emotion, while my arms remained rigidly crossed over my chest. Annabeth, sensing the storm brewing within me, didn't hesitate. She jammed the key into the ignition, the engine roared to life, and she sped across the desert pavement, foot pressed all the way down on the pedal.
The clouds that gathered overhead, a swirling mass of silver-fade, ranging from the strongest gunmetal grey to soft, almost ethereal whites, seemed to have taken command of the skies today. Yet they didn't look like they were about to bring new life or gentle rain. No, no, no. They swirled and pulsed in perfect, ominous accordance with my building emotions. Only sharp, sudden gusts of wind betrayed the raw power of my anger, slowly seeping out of me, a tangible force. A light drizzle began to fall, a subtle, ominous foreshadowing of the thunderstorm about to break.
White knuckles, clenched fists so tight they ached, and gritted teeth, a painful effort to remain silent, my hunched form in the passenger seat exuded an animosity that was like acid – burning, slicing, potent. My face, I could feel, was flushed and hot with suppressed rage. And when Grover, bless his oblivious heart, even tentatively set a hesitant finger on my shoulder, a gesture of comfort, I swung around so fast and so violently that the storm outside seemed to mirror my internal snap. As did the brewing tempest outside the moving vehicle. "Percy-" Grover started, his voice a tentative whisper.
"Don't Percy me! We lost a week to finish this quest! A week, gods dammit! One. Whole. Week! How in the Hades did that even happen!? How is that even possible!?" They didn't answer. Annabeth kept her eyes fixed rigidly on the road ahead, her knuckles also white on the steering wheel. Grover shrunk back in his seat, looking utterly miserable. Their silence only fueled my anger, making it burn hotter, sharper. The drizzle outside intensified, transforming into a torrential downpour. Rain began to plummet to the earth in thick, heavy waves, battering the truck. The gusts of wind gained strength, howling around the vehicle with enough force to knock anyone over like a flimsy paper bag. They still didn't answer. "How!?" I roared again, the question ripped from my throat, my tone laced with a raw fury that made both Grover and Annabeth flinch visibly.
"We-we were wa-walking by uh- when… when the nice bell h-hop called u-us over," Grover stuttered out, his voice trembling, barely audible over the rising wind and rain.
"Called us over? Called us over for what?" I shouted, my voice harsh, edging him to get on with it, to finally explain this unbelievable, infuriating situation.
"W-we got distracted… and went pla-playing around," Grover barely squeaked out the last words, his face crumpled with shame and fear.
"Distracted? Distracted!? I… I can't believe it!" My voice cracked with disbelief and rage. "We are demigods, for Hades' sake! We get distracted, we die! We are susceptible to both the mortal and mythological temptations! How dumb do you have to be to not notice a very obvious trap, when nothing in this world, nothing, is ever truly as perfect as that place makes it out to be!?" I continued to rant, my words like the thunder that now boomed overhead, echoing the storm inside me. I unleashed a torrent of pent-up frustration and fury for the next five minutes, each word a lash, each sentence a condemnation of their inexplicable lapse in judgment, a lapse that had potentially jeopardized everything.
"That's enough, Percy! You're just as responsible as we are!" Annabeth's voice, usually so calm and measured, was sharp and defensive. She actually had the audacity to fight back? Her blue eyes, normally bright with intelligence, flashed with indignation.
"You're kidding, right?" I scoffed, turning to face her in the cramped backseat. My gaze burned into hers. "For the entire quest so far, I've been carrying the weight, deciphering riddles, fighting monsters, strategizing every move. Then, when we are this close to the finish line, I entrust you with a little responsibility – a little situational awareness for crying out loud – and you decide to run straight into a trap like a moth to a flame." I gestured wildly, my voice rising again. "Adding to the fact that we're already dealing with a traitor in our midst, someone actively working against us. I was doing my job, trying to get answers, while you two go off lollygagging, making one of the biggest mistakes possible on a mission with a ticking clock, a deadline that could determine the fate of the world!" I jabbed a finger towards them, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You say I'm responsible? When another world war is just around the corner? I don't have the time for childish mistakes that could get people killed, that could lead to dead friends. Do you even begin to grasp the cost of your little detour?" I felt an unnerving shift in myself, the raw, parental protectiveness surging within me, a sensation far too intense for someone my age. Grover and Annabeth didn't deserve to have it easy right now. They needed to understand the gravity of their actions.
"Percy, we're-" Annabeth started, her voice softer now, laced with remorse. Grover nodded in agreement, his usual cheerful demeanor completely extinguished.
"I am beginning to think bringing you was nothing more than a mistake…" The words hung in the air, heavy and hurtful, and I immediately regretted them, even as I felt they were somewhat justified. I finished and let them mope in silence for the rest of the agonizingly slow car ride. The storm outside slowly mirrored the one within me, subsiding gradually, my anger ebbing away leaving behind a bitter residue of disappointment and worry.
'That was harsh, don't you think?' Khione's voice chimed in, a cool whisper in the back of my mind.
'Nope,' I retorted internally, 'We now have less than a day because of them. Less than a day to fix their screw-up.'
'I know you, Percy. You're not one to hold a grudge against friends. Not really.' Her tone softened, tinged with understanding.
'I'm not holding anything. I ranted, I called them out. They messed up, badly. If they can't handle me being straight with them, that isn't my problem. I am the way I am. You should know that by now. I'm not one to beat around the bush.'
'Damn straight you aren't. I still remember you calling me out. Me. A goddess. You have some big kahunas, if you know what I mean.' I couldn't help but chuckle, a dry rasping sound, at her unexpected slang. A small, genuine smile flickered across my lips despite myself.
'You know, the last time I got so angry like that was way back in the day... I think I even managed to scare myself with that stunt.' I sighed internally, running a hand through my perpetually messy black hair. 'Ugh, what am I going to do now?'
'Oh, quit moping around, Seaweed Brain. This isn't like you. Just get over it. Like you said, it isn't your fault. They messed up.' Her words were a surprisingly effective balm, a cool breeze on a fevered brow.
'Now it is my problem... Thanks, by the way.' A genuine warmth began to spread through me, chasing away some of the chill.
'Anytime, Perce. We'll talk more later.' Her presence receded, leaving me in the relative quiet of my own thoughts again. The car ride continued in silence. Softly splashing water droplets streaked down the car windows like tears, a melancholic rhythm accompanying our journey. The skies were a vast, oppressive blanket of grey, the clouds and sky indistinguishable, a seamless wash of muted color. Despite the tediousness of car rides, the rain usually calmed me. I watched raindrops race each other down the glass, merging and diverging, their brief lives a miniature drama. The occasional splash and wave from passing puddles offered a fleeting moment of excitement, but I longed to be outside, feeling the cool rain on my skin, splashing in those puddles, rather than being trapped in this suffocating car.
Time continued to slide by, marked only by the changing shades of grey outside the window. As we neared Santa Monica, the sun, a weak, watery disc, began to set behind the horizon, painting the edges of the clouds with bruised purples and oranges. I didn't even wait for the car to fully stop. As soon as it slowed, I flung open the door and practically jumped out, my feet hitting the damp pavement hard. I strode towards the beach, the familiar scent of salt and seaweed filling my lungs. I scanned the dunes, the pier in the distance, my heart sinking with each detail. Homeless people huddled for warmth on benches, trash scattered across the sand like careless confetti, and the water, the churning grey expanse of the Pacific, held no answering summons, no familiar tug. Which meant… I was in the right place, but nothing was happening.
With a sigh of weary resignation, I walked directly into the surf, the cold water seeping through my sneakers, immediately soaking my jeans. "Percy, wait!" Annabeth called out, her voice carrying over the sound of the waves, but I ignored her. I kept walking, deeper and deeper, until the water was past my waist, the cold beginning to numb my legs. I pushed further, past colonies of sand dollars glinting faintly on the seabed, the rolling, rippled sand underfoot, schools of darting bait fish scattering around my ankles. I was heading towards something I could sense, a faint pull, an underwater canyon. Deeper and vaster than any canyon I'd seen before, and I had seen plenty in my travels. Even from the surface, I could sense its immense scale, its breathtaking depth. The water was surprisingly clear for the churning surface, like looking into the night sky, only blue-tinged. Yet, even with my enhanced vision, I knew I was limited in what I could perceive in the fathomless void of the ocean's depths.
A sudden flash of light, a brilliant, ethereal glow, caught my attention from far below, maybe a hundred and fifty feet down. It grew brighter with each passing second, ascending rapidly, like a rising star. Another messenger from my dad, no doubt. I didn't really mind. In fact, a small part of me welcomed the distraction, the connection to my father, however indirect. The light solidified into a shape, elegant and graceful, resolving into a figure swimming towards me. She called out to me, her voice smooth and melodic, carrying clearly through the water, a voice that resonated with something deep inside me, something akin to a phantom memory. A voice that reminded me of my mother. My first mom, Sally Jackson. I still remembered what she sounded like, the warmth and love in her tone.
The Nereid materialized in front of me, shimmering with an otherworldly beauty. She had long, flowing black hair that danced around her in the water, and a dress woven of green silk that shifted and shimmered like the ocean surface, complimenting her pale, delicate features perfectly. She sat regally astride a horse-sized sea horse, its scales catching the fading sunlight, iridescent and rainbow-hued. With effortless grace, she dismounted, her feet barely disturbing the water, and began petting her sea horse on the snout, its large, intelligent eyes blinking slowly. "We meet again, Percy. I do hope you're doing well."
"Same here," I replied, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "It's been a little while since our last meet at the Mississippi. Sorry about that." I ducked my head slightly, remembering the hasty, somewhat brusque manner of our last encounter.
"No need to apologize, Son of the Sea, to a Nereid such as myself. The sea has mourned quite a bit when word spread, however falsely, that your death was assured. Now, however, we see that you are alive and well, as vibrant as ever. You are one curious Son of the Sea, to say the least." She studied me with her deep, knowing eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Yeah, well, I try," I mumbled, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment at her praise.
"You must be curious as to why your father isn't here personally," she stated, her tone conversational, but with an undercurrent of something else, something… assessing.
"Not at all," I said, shaking my head. "I'm sure he's busy with the threat of another war looming over him, and I don't think now is the time or place for such a thing. Plus, as a demigod, I know he can't interfere personally. Ancient Laws and all that."
"You are quite right," she agreed, her smile widening slightly. "He is indeed quite occupied during this precarious time. And as you are aware, it is strictly against the ancient laws to interfere directly, and a god most certainly mustn't show favoritism, especially not openly." Stupid, archaic ancient laws, I thought, clenching my jaw.
"I know," I repeated, my voice flat, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "However, a god shouldn't be so… negligent towards their own children, leaving them to feel abandoned and uncared for." The words slipped out before I could fully censor them, laced with a bitterness I hadn't intended to reveal, even to a Nereid.
Her smile vanished instantly, her expression hardening, like the sea turning from calm to stormy in a heartbeat. "Surely you don't believe Poseidon has acted in such a way?" Her voice, though still smooth, now held an edge, a sharp, almost accusatory tone. She stared at me, her eyes wide with something akin to shock, as if I'd slapped her.
"Of course not! Gods, no. I know he mourned when he thought I was dead, back when I was just a baby. And I don't hold an ounce of blame over him. He acted like a parent should. Which is more than I could say for a few other gods. Don't you agree?" I met her gaze steadily, trying to convey my sincerity.
"It isn't my place to say how the gods should behave…" Her voice softened ever so slightly, regaining a touch of its previous smoothness, "but, I would have to agree. Now, for the reason your father asked you here." Finally, I was going to get some answers after all this time of wondering and being kept in the dark. Relief washed over me. She held out her hand, fingers long and elegant, and three pure white pearls, each shimmering with an inner light, appeared in her palm as if conjured from the sea foam itself. "Journeying to the Underworld shouldn't be taken lightly. Any mortal who entered in the old days had a gift, a guide, or a trick to ensure their return. This is your gift." She extended her hand towards me. "Smash them at your feet when you're ready to return to the surface." Her voice was laced with a hint of concern now. "We can't have someone of such importance die at a young age… The Fates haven't been kind to you, young Percy. I wish I could do more, but all I can give is a warning. Be careful of Hades. Now that he knows of your existence, he is enraged and no doubt will try and use you for his own purposes." She placed the pearls in my palm, closing my hand around them with a gentle but firm pressure. "Farewell, Percy, may the Fates be kind for once." She gracefully mounted her magnificent stallion sea horse, its scales shimmering like liquid silver, and began riding towards the shimmering void of the deeper ocean. "Listen to your heart!" She called out one last time, her voice echoing slightly across the water before she and her steed disappeared completely into the blue depths.
I kicked upwards, pushing against the water to return to the surface, breaking through to the air as the sun was setting beyond the horizon. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking hue of gold and rose, painting the clouds with vibrant colours. My friends, Grover and Annabeth, were waiting patiently on the beach for my arrival, their figures silhouetted against the fading light. I waded out of the water and walked up to them, the sand cool beneath my bare feet. I started by recounting my meeting with the Nereid, telling them why I had been summoned to the depths and showing them the pearls, luminous white against my skin. The explanation didn't take long, and we were all buzzing with nervous energy and determined to find our way to the Underworld. The only problem was – we had absolutely no idea how to get there.
So we drove around in Annabeth's mom's minivan, completely clueless, for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only an hour. Frustration was bubbling inside me when, in desperation, I mentally called out, 'Khione, a little help here please! I don't know where I'm going. I feel like I'm driving around in circles.'
'Try the DOA Recording Studios,' Khione's voice, cool and crisp as winter air, responded instantly in my mind. 'It's not too far from where you're at right now actually. Three blocks ahead of you and take a left. It should be on the right with a big sign. Can't miss it.'
'Thanks, I owe you big time,' I thought back, feeling a surge of gratitude.
'Come on, Percy,' she replied in a sly, knowing tone. 'You know exactly what I want in return.'
'Is my cooking really that good?' I wondered aloud, though only to myself mentally. 'I'm not complaining or anything but, ever since you tasted that blue chocolate chip cookies awhile back, that's all you ever want when I say I'll owe you.'
'I'm a goddess, Percy,' she chuckled, a light, airy sound. 'We don't actually need to eat, physiologically speaking, but I prefer your food over ambrosia sometimes. That should say a lot, shouldn't it?'
'Alright, alright. Thanks. Talk to you soon,' I ended the mental conversation, a small smile playing on my lips. I told Annabeth where to drive, and surprisingly, we got there in no time at all. It was a good thing too because a sense of urgency was growing, and time, I felt, was definitely not on our side anymore.
"What's the plan?" Grover asked, his voice laced with apprehension, nervously fiddling with the reeds of his pipes. Annabeth stood next to him in silence, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze fixed on the imposing building before us. She wasn't saying anything, but the tense set of her shoulders told me everything – she was definitely not in a good mood.
"I'm going to tell him the truth," I stated firmly, turning to face them both, the pearls warm in my pocket. "If we get caught in a lie, especially here, I think things would go a lot worse. Honesty is probably the best approach, even with the god of the dead, right?" I tried for a reassuring smile, even though I was starting to feel a knot of anxiety tighten in my own stomach. We stood right outside the heavy oak doors of the DOA Recording Studios, the air around us feeling strangely still and heavy.
We walked into the building, and it was… not at all what I expected the gateway to the Underworld to be. Honestly, I was picturing something a lot more dramatic – maybe a smoking crater or a misty cavern. But this? This was… mundane. I stood in a massive, cavernous room, dimly lit and filled to the brim with swirling, translucent ghosts. They whispered in hushed, mournful voices, a constant murmur that seemed to seep into your bones, about gods knew what – probably their regrets and unfinished business. At a large, imposing reception desk, adorned with a ridiculously small potted plant, sat a security guard. He was a man of elegance and a tall stature, but looked utterly bored out of his mind, leaning back in his chair, idly buffing his fingernails. I would be too if I had to watch ghosts drift around all day as my job. The only sound louder than the ghostly whispers was the softly played elevator music drifting from hidden speakers, a saccharine, repetitive melody that would drive anyone insane in minutes. Overall, the place was incredibly bland, almost aggressively beige, with little color and absolutely no attitude. It reeked of bureaucratic boredom and eternal paperwork.
We just avoided eye contact with the drifting spirits and walked straight to the desk where the sharply dressed man sat. Up close, I could see he had chocolate-coloured skin that looked as smooth as polished obsidian, and a severe military haircut that was dyed an unnaturally bright blonde – way too bleached to be considered natural, making him look even more out of place. His eyes were hidden behind oversized, dark sunglasses, and he wore a very fancy silk Italian suit, impeccably tailored but also too bleached white to be considered a natural hue, making him look like a bizarre, stylish anomaly in this depressing place. "Well, if it isn't Charon," I said, trying to sound confident, though my voice felt a little shaky. "I was wondering when I would have my chance at meeting you personally." He finally looked up at me, his gaze hidden behind the dark lenses, and gave me a cold, dry smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We would like passage to see Hades," I stated clearly, cutting straight to the chase.
"Finally, someone who recognizes me!" He exclaimed with genuine glee, his cold demeanor instantly melting away. "It has been so long since the last time I wasn't instantly confused for that centaur! That Chiron fellow, always stealing my thunder." He expressed his indignation, completely ignoring the fact that I had asked to see Hades. "Now what is it that you want, you… dead people?" He asked, regaining some of his professional detachment, but still with a hint of pleased surprise in his voice. He managed to make the question sound almost polite, even though the implication was clear.
"I want to go and see Hades," I reiterated, maintaining eye contact despite his sunglasses. "I believe he is expecting me, or at least, aware of me. So, I don't think sneaking around and manipulating people will help my case. I want to be upfront and honest about my intentions."
"Considering the fact that you're in here willingly, not kicking and screaming like most of them, and aren't trying to cheat, scam, scream, or lie to me," Charon said, leaning forward slightly, a hint of curiosity in his voice, "I will let you leave this place… alive. In fact, I will forget ever seeing you. Trust me, kid, you really don't want to go and meet the boss while he's in one of his moods. Especially not Hades. He's been on edge lately." And Charon, the ferryman of souls, was being considerate? Who knew?
"Sorry, but I can't turn back now. And if you can get us to Hades quickly, I will put in a good word with him about you. To, you know, recognize your… excellent service. That is the least I could do," I offered, feeling a little awkward making promises on behalf of a god I hadn't even met yet. I didn't realize the impact of what I'd said until he actually smiled. Like a real, genuine smile that lit up his face and gleamed, making his white teeth almost blinding against his dark skin. I doubted he'd smiled like that in centuries, maybe millennia. It completely transformed his face, banishing the cold, python-like glare that usually resided behind his eyes. I didn't know if I should be relieved, worried, or happy. Grover and Annabeth edged closer to me, their bodies tense, as if they were seeking protection from his sudden, unsettling shift in mood and his unexpectedly dazzling smile.
"You better know what you're doing, kid…" He said, his voice low and serious, all traces of the previous smile vanishing. "This is a dangerous game you're playing. I hope you survive this visit to my boss." He told us matter-of-factly, with no trace of humor at all, and then gestured for us to follow him. He led us towards a set of ornate, obsidian-black elevators tucked away in a shadowed corner of the lobby. As we stepped into the elevator, the doors hissing closed behind us, I couldn't help but think about the ridiculousness of the situation. The four of us stood huddled together like we were the punch line to some cosmic, incredibly bad joke. We had the fairy guide of the dead, who seemed to have a penchant for bleached clothing, a shirtless whack job of a demigod, a half-goat satyr freak of nature, and the daughter of wisdom looking more bewildered than wise at the moment. Seriously, if someone had told me a week ago that this would be my life, I wouldn't even know where to begin to unravel the whirlwind of insane, mythical chaos I was about to walk right into.