Chapter 16: Between Whispers and Cries

The sky hung heavy with thick, gray clouds as Thalia and I walked briskly through the outskirts of Richmond. It was late afternoon, and the air felt cold, damp, and heavy with the threat of rain. The tension between us lingered, thick and unspoken, just like the overcast clouds overhead, the fading daylight casting long, eerie shadows along the empty streets.

The city streets were quiet, eerily so, with only the occasional car passing by. Most of the people we saw were either rushing from work or bundled up against the cold, paying no attention to us as we moved through the streets. But there was an ominous vibe hanging over the place—a creeping feeling that grew stronger the closer we got to the Ironworks.

"How far do you think we are?" I asked, trying to break the silence that had settled between us.

Thalia didn't look at me as she answered, her eyes scanning the buildings ahead, alert. "Not far," she said, her voice focused. "Maybe a few more blocks. I'll know it when I see it." She was all business, determined to get us there, keeping her emotions carefully tucked away behind a layer of focus.

As we moved closer to what I guessed was the industrial part of the city, the vibe changed. The streets became more deserted, the buildings taller but rusted out, with windows boarded up or shattered. There was a strange feeling in the air—like the city itself was trying to warn us. I couldn't shake the sense of dread creeping up my spine.

"You feel that too?" Thalia asked, her voice low. She didn't sound scared—more like her instincts were kicking in, sharp and ready.

"Yeah," I muttered. "It's like... something's watching us."

She didn't respond, just nodded, her she rubbed her bracelet-shield on her wrist. We kept moving, the sound of our steps muted as we entered a part of the city that looked forgotten. The buildings loomed over us, casting long shadows, the smell of iron and soot thick in the air. It felt like we were walking into another world—one that wasn't going to let us leave easily.

"We're close," Thalia finally said, her voice tight. She picked up the pace, her strides lengthening into a near speed-walk, and I quickly followed suit. We turned left down a narrow alley, weaving between abandoned trash cans and piles of debris. I nearly collided with her when she came to a sudden stop.

"Are we here?" I asked, trying to steady myself.

Thalia spun around, her eyes flashing with irritation, and for a moment I thought she was going to snap. But then her gaze softened, and she looked up at something behind me. Slowly, I followed her eyes.

Richmond Ironworks.

The sign was weathered and rusted, barely legible, hanging precariously above us. A cold chill ran down my spine as I took in the sight.

"So this is where it all began," I muttered, feeling a strange weight settle over me. The longer we stood there, the more unease crept into my chest. I tried to picture a 7-year-old Annabeth hiding here—small, scared, lost—clinging to survival behind one of the dumpsters. I glanced around at the empty alley, where brick walls towered over piles of trash and crumbling concrete. Was it that dumpster? A shiver ran through me as I stared at it, imagining her crouched there, waiting.

I turned to Thalia, who was standing still, her face pale. She looked as uneasy as I felt, her usual stoic expression faltering.

"I never thought I'd come back here," she murmured, her voice quieter than I expected. There was a vulnerability in her tone mixed with a nervousness that was beginning to rise.

I glanced around the alley again, and that's when I noticed it—an old, rusted iron door beneath the worn-out Richmond Ironworks sign. It was partially hidden in the shadows, blending in with the brick and grime of the alley walls. The door looked like it hadn't been used in years, the metal streaked with rust, and the handle barely hanging on. I wasn't sure why, but something about it felt... wrong.

Thalia followed my gaze, her eyes narrowing. "You think that's it?" she asked, her voice quieter now, filled with uncertainty.

I stepped closer, my hand instinctively moving to Riptide. "I don't know... but it's the only thing that stands out."

She bit her lip, clearly wrestling with the same doubt that I was. "I think you're right."

I nodded, my heart pounding. "Well. We won't know unless we try."

We both stared at the door for a long moment. Neither of us wanted to admit how uneasy it made us feel, but the weight of the silence between us spoke volumes. It could be nothing. Or it could be everything.

"Ready?" I asked, though my voice wavered.

Thalia didn't answer right away. She looked at the door again, her fingers tightening around her weapon. "Ready," she said, though she didn't sound entirely sure.

Thalia opened the rusted door beneath the Richmond Ironworks sign, revealing a narrow set of concrete steps leading into the dark unknown. The light from the alley barely reached past the first few steps, and it felt like the darkness swallowed everything beyond that point. She hesitated, her hand resting on the doorframe for a second before glancing back at me. Neither of us said anything, but we both knew. Something was wrong about this place.

Thalia stepped in first, and I followed right behind her. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. We both flinched, spinning around instinctively. My heart lurched in my chest.

The door was gone.

We stood in pitch black, the kind of darkness that felt alive, wrapping around us like a thick blanket. I swallowed hard and fumbled in the dark, reaching out. "Thalia?" My voice sounded unnaturally loud in the silence.

Her hand found mine, and without thinking, I squeezed tight. She squeezed back, and for a moment, the tension from everything—the fights, the frustration, the words we'd left hanging in the alley—faded. It didn't matter. Not here. Not in this darkness.

I unsheathed Riptide, the celestial bronze casting a weak, flickering glow around us. The stairwell was steep and narrow, the concrete steps descending into an endless, spiraling void. The walls were damp, and the air smelled of rust and mildew. I tried not to think about how wrong this felt, but the feeling was impossible to ignore.

A chill ran down my spine as I turned back toward where the door had been. It had disappeared. Completely. Like we had been sealed in.

"Percy..." Thalia's voice was barely a whisper, filled with unease.

"I know," I muttered, my voice hoarse. "Let's just keep moving."

We descended slowly, hand in hand, the weight of the darkness pressing down on us as we stepped deeper into the unknown.

I focused. "If this is the same place, there should be a room at the bottom of the stairs with a single light bulb."

Thalia nodded, her jaw tight. "Let's get out of here as quick as we can." She said as we continued descending. The air was heavy, the kind of thick, damp cold that seeped into your bones. We had walked for what felt like minutes, the stairwell seeming endless, when a faint whisper broke the silence.

I stopped, spinning around, but there was nothing behind us. "Did you hear that?" I asked, my voice low.

"Hear what?" Thalia whispered, her grip tightening.

"Never mind."

We pressed forward, each step slow and cautious. The further down we went, the stronger that uneasy feeling became, like the darkness itself was watching us. Finally, a dim light flickered at the bottom of the stairs. "We're almost there," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. The closer we got, the more my heart pounded.

After what felt like an eternity, we reached the bottom, stepping into the room I had stumbled into when I escaped Chimera. Cold concrete walls, a flickering lightbulb overhead—the whole place felt like it was waiting for something.

Thalia froze, her body going rigid beside me.

"What happened?" I asked, my pulse spiking.

"I thought I heard whispering," she said, her voice tight. "Like… angry whispering."

"I heard it earlier," I admitted. "And I think down the sewer, we'll hear a lot more."

Her expression darkened, but she didn't say anything. The flickering light cast long, erratic shadows around us, making the room feel smaller, more suffocating. The oppressive darkness from earlier seemed to thicken, pressing in on us from all sides.

The lightbulb started to flicker faster, almost like a strobe, and my grip on Thalia's hand tightened even more. It felt like we were holding on for dear life, clinging to each other in this unsettling place where everything was uncertain.

"Whatever's down here," Thalia muttered, her voice barely audible, "I don't think it wants us here."

"Just stick together," I responded. I tried to sound confident, even though inside, I was screaming. My pulse pounded in my ears as we stepped deeper into the suffocating darkness of the sewer. I led the way, gripping Thalia's hand like it was my only lifeline. The air around us grew colder with every step, the shadows thickening. The angry whispering that had started as a faint murmur now surrounded us, a storm of voices that seemed to crawl under my skin. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my legs felt frozen, heavy. Moving forward felt like wading through quicksand.

The lights, which I had seen strung along the sewer during my first visit, were now mostly dead. A few flickered, casting sporadic flashes of dull yellow that barely lit the walls. The rest of the tunnel was pitch black, and it felt like the darkness itself was closing in.

"I have to tell you something, Percy," Thalia's voice broke through the chaotic whispers, her tone serious.

Before I could respond, her hand slipped away from mine. The sudden loss of her grip sent a jolt of panic through me. I stopped, my mind racing, trying to focus. "Thalia?" I called out, spinning around.

But she wasn't there.

I could barely see the dim glow of the lights scattered far apart down the sewer, but no silhouette. No sign of Thalia. It was as if she had vanished into the darkness. My heart sank.

"Thalia!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. The only response was the angry whispering growing louder around me, as if mocking my fear.

My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of the silence pressing down on me as I moved forward. The narrow walkway stretched endlessly ahead, the flickering light from Riptide casting long shadows against the damp walls. My footsteps echoed in the emptiness, but no matter how hard I looked, the sewer was empty—no sign of Thalia, just the whispers closing in like a storm.

"Percy!"

Thalia's voice—filled with distress, pain, or maybe something worse. The sound bounced off the cold walls, twisting and distorting until it felt like it was coming from every direction at once. I froze. She sounded so close and yet... far away, like her voice wasn't really there, just an echo. The whispering that had surrounded me earlier had stopped completely. Now, there was only silence, thick and suffocating, with Thalia's cries hanging in the air.

"Thalia!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "Where are you?!"

Nothing. Just silence. My grip on Riptide tightened, my pulse racing. What was happening?

Then, out of nowhere, I heard another voice—a familiar one, soft yet urgent.

"Percy? Is that you?"

I turned, my heart lurching. It came from the opposite direction, down the hall where we were heading. Annabeth's voice.

"Annabeth?" I called, my voice shaking. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm in danger! I'm hurt!" Her voice wavered, that last word stretching longer than it should have, echoing in the darkness.

"I'm coming!" I yelled back but my feet felt like they were sinking into the ground, holding me back.

"Percy!" Thalia's scream cut through the silence again. Blood-curdling, desperate. It sounded like she was dying.

I froze again, my mind spinning. I couldn't be in two places at once. I didn't have time to help both of them.

"Percy, I need you!" Annabeth's voice now, filled with pain, breaking through the thick silence.

I stood there, torn, my heart pounding harder than ever. I couldn't breathe. Thalia had risked everything for me—sacrificed so much. And Annabeth... gods, Annabeth. She was hurt, suffering. They both needed me, but I could only run toward one.

Tears welled up in my eyes as the decision hit me, hard and fast. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my throat tight. I turned back, sprinting toward where Thalia's cries had come from.

But as I ran, I slammed into something solid. Hard.

"Ouch! Watch where you're going, Seaweed Brain!"

Thalia's voice rang out, right next to me, frustrated but alive. I blinked in disbelief, the light from Riptide illuminating her face. She was fine—scared and tense, but fine.

"What—what's going on?" I stammered, my mind spinning. "I thought you were in danger?"

"So far, the only danger's been you running into me," Thalia muttered, rubbing her shoulder where I'd collided with her. The words hit harder than I expected. It wasn't just a throwaway comment—it brought me back to the last time we'd crashed into each other like this, during that capture-the-flag game that seemed like forever ago.

Back then, I hadn't understood the weight behind her words. It was the first time Thalia had let me glimpse something deeper, something that made me realize her feelings for me weren't just about friendship. And now, standing here, having chosen to run toward her when Annabeth had been calling for me, the weight of it all crashed into me. I'd chosen Thalia. Not Annabeth. The realization made my heart race.

The truth settled like a boulder in my chest. Thalia had put herself on the line for me, more than once, and all I'd done was keep her feelings hanging, not giving her the answers she deserved.

"This sewer only goes one direction." Thalia cut off my train of thought, raising an eyebrow. "Why did you run away like that?" She sounded more curious than accusatory, but I could sense the weight behind her question, even in the dim, flickering light.

"I thought I heard Annabeth screaming," I admitted.

"Oh." Thalia's gaze dropped to the ground. "So you went after her."

"Yes. I mean… no!" I said quickly, shaking my head. "I thought you were in trouble too." The words stumbled out of my mouth, but they didn't capture what I really wanted to say. The truth stuck somewhere in my throat, heavy and unspoken. I had run toward Thalia, not Annabeth. But how could I say that? How could I make her understand after everything?

Thalia's expression didn't change. She glanced down, her voice steady but colder now. "I get it, Percy," she said, brushing off the moment. "Let's just get Annabeth and get out of here quick."

The sting of it hit me hard—like I'd missed my chance to make things right, to explain what had really happened. But now the moment had passed, and I could feel the distance settling between us again.

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage before the silence stretched too long. "Thalia, wait—" My voice was soft but urgent, my hand reaching for hers. "I didn't run toward Annabeth. I ran toward you."

She stopped walking, her shoulders tense as she turned her gaze toward me, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What?"

"I heard both of you, but I ran toward you." I met her gaze, heart racing. "I thought you were hurt, Thalia. I chose you."

The shadows clung to the silence between us as her eyes searched mine, doubt lingering there. Her expression softened, just barely, but enough that I could see the walls she'd started to build crumbling again. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out at first.

"You... did?" she finally managed, her voice small.

"Yeah," I breathed, hoping she understood the weight of my words. "I chose you."

For a moment, Thalia just stared at me, her expression caught between surprise and something deeper—something like hope.

Slowly, she nodded, her hand finding mine again. The connection felt fragile, but real. "Okay," she said quietly. "Okay."

We turned and continued walking side-by-side. The sewer seemed to grow darker, the shadows clinging to us like they knew. Knew what I hadn't said, what Thalia hadn't said. Every step echoed louder, like the walls were pressing in on us, and the whispers grew harsher, taunting me for my silence.

We walked in silence for a few moments, each step feeling heavier than the last. The sewer was colder here, darker too, the dim lights above flickering like they could give out at any moment. My grip on Riptide tightened, and I felt Thalia's tension beside me, both of us on edge.

And then, we saw it.

A metal door, looming ahead in the dim light, its surface rusted and worn like it had been here for decades. My heart thudded against my chest, knowing this was it. This was where Annabeth was.

Thalia stepped forward, reaching for the door handle, her fingers hovering just above it. I felt a strange, unsettling energy radiating from the door, like the air itself was holding its breath. We exchanged a quick glance—both of us afraid but determined.

Her hand wrapped around the handle.

The door creaked as it began to swing open, the sound cutting through the stillness like a knife.

It was time to rescue Annabeth.

This chapter really pulled me in as I wrote it—the setting, the tension, and especially the weight of Percy's choice. Running toward Thalia instead of Annabeth feels like a turning point, even if it's one they're both unsure how to handle. Do you think this changes their relationship, or are they still too caught up in the chaos to process it? I'd love to hear what you think! If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to leave a review, follow, or favorite—it means so much to me!