Chapter 17: The God in the Shadows

The door groaned as I pushed it open, the sound cutting through the oppressive silence. Thalia stood beside me, her posture tense. The dim light from Riptide barely penetrated the darkness of the room beyond, but I could make out the cold stone walls and the faint outline of something in the center.

A cage.

My heart pounded as we stepped inside. The air was thick, suffocating, like the room itself was holding its breath. The whispers that had followed us down the sewer seemed to vanish, replaced by a silence that felt even more sinister.

There, in the center of the room, was Annabeth.

Her figure was hunched, her back against the iron bars of the cage. The flickering light barely illuminated her features, but even in the dim glow, I could see how worn down she was—pale, her hair a tangled mess, her clothes dirty and torn. She looked exhausted.

"Annabeth?" I breathed, stepping closer.

Her head snapped up, her gray eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, the weight of everything—the pain, the fear, the uncertainty—was all reflected in her gaze. But then, a flicker of relief crossed her face.

"Percy... Thalia..." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the way she said our names felt like a lifeline, something pulling her back from the edge.

I moved toward the cage, but the glow around the bars flickered, a reminder of the enchantment that kept her trapped. My fingers clenched around the bars, helpless.

"We're here. We're going to get you out," I promised, but even as the words left my mouth, I wasn't sure how. My eyes darted to Thalia, hoping for some reassurance, but her expression was as grim as mine.

Thalia stepped forward, her hand already reaching into her bag for the circlet. The realization that she was the key—literally and figuratively—hung between us. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering toward me, and then back to Annabeth.

Thalia's hand shook slightly as she pulled the silver circlet from her bag, the cool metal gleaming faintly in the dim light. For a moment, she just stared at it, her eyes tracing the intricate designs engraved into the silver. I could see the hesitation in her expression—this circlet wasn't just a tool. It was part of her, tied to her identity as Artemis' lieutenant.

"I hope this works," she whispered, more to herself than to me. Her fingers tightened around the band, and I could see the struggle on her face—the weight of what she was about to do.

She stepped forward, bringing the circlet toward the lock on the cage. The air around us seemed to shift, like the room itself was holding its breath. As soon as the circlet touched the lock, a bright spark ignited, casting harsh shadows across the room. Thalia flinched but didn't pull back. The silver band in her hands pulsed, glowing brighter and brighter.

I watched, my heart pounding, as the light intensified. Thalia's jaw clenched, her knuckles white as she held on, refusing to let go. Then, with a loud, metallic crack, the lock gave way. The bars of the cage groaned and swung open.

But the circlet…

The silver band started to crack, thin lines spider-webbing across its surface. Thalia's eyes widened in shock, and I saw her glance at me—just for a second—before the circlet shattered in her hands. Pieces of it fell to the ground, scattered like broken shards of glass.

As the fragments hit the floor, a soft pink mist rose from them, swirling gently around us. Tiny, shimmering shapes floated within the mist—were those... hearts? I blinked, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. The mist lingered for a moment, enveloping Thalia in a rosy glow before slowly dissipating into the air.

She stared down at the remnants, her expression a mix of disbelief and something deeper. Loss. Confusion.

"What was that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Thalia shook her head slowly. "I... I don't know," she murmured. "This isn't right. It feels... off. Like someone's playing with us." The scent of roses lingered in the air, and Thalia glanced at me, her face filled with a mix of frustration and uncertainty. "I don't know what's going on, but this wasn't supposed to happen."

A strange feeling settled over us—a mix of unease and something unspoken. It was as if the very air had been infused with emotions that weren't entirely our own.

I stepped toward Annabeth, my heart racing. She was still hunched against the cage, her body weak, I knelt beside her, and for a moment, we just stared at each other—her gray eyes locking onto mine, a mix of relief and exhaustion in her gaze.

"Percy," she whispered, her voice hoarse and fragile. "I knew you'd come."

The weight of her words hit me, and I felt a lump form in my throat. I reached out, helping her to her feet. She leaned into me, her body trembling from the strain. Her fingers brushed against mine, lingering a little longer than necessary, like she was holding on not just for balance, but for reassurance. For a second, I instinctively wanted to pull her closer, to tell her everything was going to be okay, but something held me back.

"Thanks, Percy," she said, her voice breaking the silence between us. It wasn't the confident Annabeth I knew—it was something softer, more vulnerable. The kind of vulnerability that only came after surviving something terrible. And I had to remind myself that she'd been through so much while I was out there, searching for her.

I glanced over at Thalia, who was standing by the doorway, her expression unreadable. She didn't say anything, but the tension between the three of us felt thick, like the air had been sucked out of the room. She had just sacrificed her lieutenant's circlet for this, and I couldn't shake the feeling that everything had changed.

Annabeth leaned against me as I helped her walk, and I could feel her warmth against my side. But my thoughts kept drifting to Thalia, to the way she'd looked at me when the circlet shattered. When something permanent shifted between us.

We moved slowly toward the door that Thalia and I had come through. The air was thick with that same dark energy that had haunted us since we entered this place.

"Do you know where to go from here?" Annabeth asked, her voice quieter now but still laced with exhaustion. Her eyes darted between Thalia and me, searching for direction.

"Left," I said automatically, my voice sounding more confident than I felt.

"Right," Thalia said at the exact same moment.

We stopped, all three of us exchanging glances. Annabeth pressed her fingers against her temples, her frustration clear, "You're kidding," she muttered.

I opened my mouth to argue, but a sudden realization hit me. I wasn't sure anymore. My vision with Annabeth screaming and Thalia calling for help—it had turned me around. I thought I knew where to go, but I wasn't certain.

Thalia, though, didn't hesitate. "It's right," she said, her tone firm, the kind of certainty I'd come to trust. She wasn't guessing. She knew. And in that moment, I realized how much I relied on her, how much I trusted her to guide us. I wanted to protest, to defend my instinct, but something in her voice stopped me.

Annabeth glanced between us, her eyes narrowing. "Are you sure?"

I felt Thalia's gaze on me, and I nodded slowly. "Yeah," I said, my voice softening. "Let's go with Thalia."

We started toward the door, and as we reached the threshold, the angry whispers from earlier crept back into the air, faint but unmistakable. Annabeth tensed beside me, and even Thalia's expression darkened.

"Let's move," Thalia said, her voice tense as she glanced down the tunnel, still dark and full of shadows. She took the lead, moving quickly but cautiously. I stayed close to Annabeth, though she shrugged off my arm, her determination clear despite her exhaustion.

"I'm okay," Annabeth muttered, her voice hoarse but firm. "I can walk by myself."

I hesitated, still holding onto her, feeling her weight against me. She must've seen the doubt in my eyes because she gave me that familiar stubborn look, the one that said she was determined to push through, no matter how weak or tired she really felt.

"Okay," I said, letting go, though I stayed close, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

We started moving again, picking up our pace as Thalia took the lead. The tunnel stretched ahead, narrow and suffocating, the drop in the center like a dark pit. "Watch the drop!" Thalia warned, glancing back to make sure Annabeth kept her footing. The echo of her voice bounced off the concrete walls, merging with the faint, ghostly whispers that had been tailing us since we'd left that cursed room.

The whispers felt sharper now, like they had teeth, gnawing at the back of my mind. They weren't just following us anymore—they were closing in.

Thalia sped up, and I followed, trying not to lose her in the dim, flickering light of Riptide. My legs felt sluggish, as if the very air in this tunnel was trying to drag me down. Like I had forgotten how to run. Right, left. Right, left.

It felt like one of those nightmares where you try to run, but your legs just won't cooperate—heavy, slow, like they were stuck in quicksand. I kept my eyes locked on Thalia's back, afraid that if I glanced over my shoulder to check on Annabeth, I'd lose whatever momentum I had left. Time seemed to stretch, each step echoing off the concrete, blending with the pounding of my heart and the relentless, malevolent whispers swirling around us. It was as if the darkness itself was weighing us down, dragging us deeper with every breath.

The angry whispers grew louder, pressing in from all sides, but there was something else now—something more immediate. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was right behind me, breathing down my neck.

"Thalia, wait!" I called, my voice echoing down the sewer tunnel. She kept moving, maybe not hearing me over the pounding of her own feet, the rush of blood in her ears. I skidded to a stop, heart thudding in my chest as I spun around, Riptide already drawn.

The tunnel was empty.

"Annabeth?" My voice cracked as I turned again, searching the darkness for her familiar figure. "Annabeth!"

Nothing.

No. No, this couldn't be happening.

She was gone.

The realization hit me like a tidal wave, cold and unforgiving. I'd just gotten her back—and now she was gone. Lost. I couldn't breathe. The whispers around me rose to a fever pitch, laughing, mocking. My hand shook as Riptide slipped from my grip, the celestial bronze clattering uselessly to the ground.

I was alone. Completely alone.

Then the laughter started. Dark, hollow, and resonating from every shadowy corner of the tunnel. My blood turned to ice. The sound didn't just echo—it consumed the space around me, filling the air until it felt like it was crawling under my skin.

I turned, hoping, praying to see Thalia—but she wasn't there either. The tunnel ahead was swallowed by darkness. There was no trace of her, no sign she had ever been there.

I stood frozen, fear clawing at my chest, my thoughts spinning out of control. The shadows felt alive, like they were moving toward me, tightening their grip with every second. The tunnel was getting darker, more oppressive. The angry whispers growing louder still. I couldn't move. My legs felt like lead.

I was alone, surrounded by this malevolent force that had torn me from the people I cared about most. It felt wrong—this wasn't where I should be, none of this should be happening. The thought twisted in my chest, frustration bubbling up until it burst into rage. I wanted to fight back, to make this thing pay for everything it had done to Annabeth, to Thalia, to us. A surge of fury shot through me, and I tightened my grip on Riptide, the cold bronze humming with the same energy pulsing inside me.

"Show yourself, you coward!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the stone walls, bouncing back at me like a challenge.

The whispering stopped abruptly, like someone had yanked the plug from a speaker. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on me like a weight. I stood there, my heart racing, straining to hear anything—Annabeth's voice, Thalia's footsteps—anything that would reassure me they were still there, somewhere in the dark.

But there was nothing. No whispers, no echoes, not even the sound of the sewer around me. Just emptiness. My voice suddenly felt too loud, too jarring in the confined space. "Annabeth!" I called out, my voice cracking slightly. "Thalia?"

My shout reverberated back at me, echoing over and over, each repetition sounding more eerie, more distant. And then, cutting through the silence like a knife, came a new sound.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate. Coming from the direction we had been running from.

I froze, my blood running cold as the steady thud of those footsteps grew closer.

The whispering started back up, but this time it was worse—like it wasn't just around me but inside me, crawling through my mind. I couldn't make out the words, but I knew they were awful. Terrible things. They grew louder and louder, swelling into a storm of voices that crashed over me, a chaotic torrent of anger and menace. It was like standing in the middle of a monsoon, with no way to escape the deluge. My thoughts were drowned out, lost in the sea of angry whispers, and panic surged through me, threatening to break the fragile grip I had on my courage.

And that's when I saw him.

A figure emerged from the shadows ahead. At first, he was just that—a shadow, barely distinguishable from the darkness around him. But as he came closer, his form became clearer, though not any less terrifying. He was tall, slender, his movements slow and deliberate. Loose, black robes hung from his frame, tattered and worn like they'd seen centuries of decay. A hood covered his face, casting it in shadow, but what I could see made my stomach churn.

His hands, pale and sickly yellow, hung from the sleeves of his robe. They were thin, bony, like they belonged to someone who had long passed the point of death. His fingernails were long, cracked, and decayed, curling at the tips. With each step he took, I felt a wave of dread crawl over me. He was only a few dozen feet away now, but it felt like he was already inside my head, making the whispers swirl into cruel, mocking laughter.

I was frozen in place, every muscle locked in terror. He wasn't even doing anything—just standing there—but the weight of his presence crushed me, suffocated me. The whispers, the laughter... it all seemed to come from him. From the darkness inside him.

I had to do something. Anything. But I felt so small, so powerless.

"Who... are... are you?" I managed to whisper, my voice so weak I wasn't even sure I'd spoken the words out loud.

The whispers inside my head stopped, but they were replaced by something much worse—his voice. "I thought you'd have realized by now, Percy."

It was deeper than anything I'd ever heard, reverberating through the tunnel, through my body, like it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. My name echoed, slow and deliberate, every word dragging out like nails on a chalkboard at the lowest, darkest tone possible. I wanted him to stop talking, to never say another word, but I couldn't respond. I couldn't even move.

He knew it.

A sinister laugh erupted from him, rattling the air, shaking me to my core. My legs trembled beneath me as I watched, frozen, as his bony hand reached for the hood. He pulled it back, revealing a face more hideous than I'd imagined. His skin was the same sickly yellow-white as his hands, stretched tight over his skull, with sunken cheeks and black, shriveled lips. But it was his eyes—his eyes were what made my blood run cold.

They weren't eyes at all. Just two black voids, endless and empty, pulling me in. I only looked for a fraction of a second, but that was enough.

Fear. Raw, paralyzing fear shot through me, more intense than anything I'd ever felt. It gripped me, twisted around my chest, squeezing the breath from my lungs.

Fear.

"Phobos." The word fell from my lips, barely more than a whisper. "The god of fear."

He gave me a crooked, wicked smile, his black lips curling as if he'd been waiting for me to say it. "Took you long enough," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"Where are Thalia and Annabeth?" I managed to get out, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to sound steady.

Phobos let out a malicious laugh, a sound so twisted it made my skin crawl. Instinctively, I stumbled back a few steps, but he just kept advancing slowly, savoring the moment. "Interesting," he mused, his voice dripping with mockery, "that you asked about Thalia first." His black eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. "Let's just say... they're facing their own fears. Just like you."

"I'm not afraid of you!" I shouted, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Every fiber of my being was screaming in terror, and Phobos could sense it. He didn't stop; he moved with the confidence of someone who knew he had already won. His black, soulless eyes bore into me, feeding off my fear like it was his personal source of power.

My mind was racing, trying to find a way out, but the walls felt like they were closing in. Phobos' presence was suffocating, and no matter how much I tried to resist, it felt like he already had me in his grip. Every step I took backward, he took one forward, a predator toying with his prey.

Just when it seemed like he was about to reach me, a voice cut through the darkness. "We can take him, Percy!"

Thalia appeared beside me, her spear drawn and her shield raised. She looked fierce, unshaken by the god of fear standing in front of us. "I'm sick of this, you bony creep!" she snarled, stepping forward with a defiance that made my heart swell with hope. "Are you ready to fight me like a real god?"

Phobos hissed in response, his face contorting into a snarl. With a snap of his fingers, a large, black scythe appeared in his hand, its blade gleaming with an eerie glow. A grotesque skull, dark and twisted, was mounted on top of the weapon, just before the curve of the blade. The sight of him with that weapon made the Grim Reaper look like a cheap Halloween costume.

Yet Thalia didn't flinch. She stood tall, facing Phobos head-on, as if he was nothing more than a schoolyard bully. Her courage sparked something inside me, rekindling my own sense of strength. If she could stand up to him, then so could I.

I pulled out Riptide, my resolve hardening as I stepped up beside her. But as I advanced, Phobos' sinister smile grew wider, his long, yellowed teeth flashing in the dim light. There was something unnerving about his confidence, like he was waiting for us to make the first move, knowing he held all the cards.

I glanced at Thalia, her spear poised, her eyes burning with determination.

"I'll make this quick," Phobos snarled as Thalia charged forward, her spear poised for a strike.

Thalia was within striking distance in an instant, moving with the fluidity and precision I'd come to expect from her. But now that we were closer, I could see just how terrifying Phobos was. Standing at least seven feet tall, he towered over us, his scythe just as massive. My mouth went dry as I gulped, realizing how outmatched we were.

Thalia lunged, aiming for his side, but Phobos effortlessly sidestepped her attack. His movements were unnervingly graceful, especially for someone of his size. He lifted his scythe with terrifying speed, swinging down with enough force to shatter bone. Thalia barely managed to dive back toward me, avoiding the crushing blow by inches. The scythe slammed into the concrete walkway with a deafening crack, embedding itself in the stone as though it were nothing more than clay.

My heart nearly stopped as I watched the midnight-black blade sink into the ground. The blade itself was at least two feet long, glinting in the faint sewer light like a twisted version of Excalibur. Phobos barely seemed to register the effort it took to pull the scythe free from the concrete. The sound of it scraping against the stone sent a shiver down my spine.

Thalia scrambled back to my side, her chest heaving from the close call. Her eyes were wide with a fear I'd rarely seen in her—dilated pupils reflecting the darkness surrounding us. She didn't need to say it. We both knew this could be our last fight. The odds were stacked impossibly high. We had no room to maneuver, no lighting to help us, and the drop-off next to the walkway loomed as a constant threat. One wrong move, one misstep, and we'd be finished.

Phobos took a step closer, his black eyes locking onto us with cold amusement. He wasn't rushing—he didn't need to. He knew he had us.

For a split second, I thought about running. I was sure Thalia did too. It would have been so easy to bolt for the exit, to try and escape this nightmare. But Annabeth... she was still trapped in the sewer, somewhere behind Phobos. The thought of leaving her there, helpless, gave me a surge of determination. I couldn't run. Not after everything we'd been through.

That surge of energy propelled me forward before I could think twice. I gripped Riptide tightly and rushed at Phobos, my heart pounding in my chest. The need to reach Annabeth, to protect Thalia, fueled every step.

Phobos looked down at me, amusement flickering across his grotesque features. It was like he couldn't believe I was foolish enough to challenge him. He hefted his scythe, readying it for a swing. To him, I was nothing more than a small target, a piece of prey to be crushed with one hit. I could see the calculation in his eyes—he was preparing to swing at me like I was a mere baseball.

I was within striking distance when I lifted my sword, ready to swing down with all my might on the god of fear. But it was useless. Before I could even raise Riptide halfway, Phobos closed the gap between us with impossible speed. In a blur, he swung the back end of his scythe, striking me with such force that I was launched backward, tumbling through the air. I flew back, the ground beneath me a blur of stone and darkness as all the air rushed out of my lungs.

I hit the concrete hard, skidding and rolling until I finally came to a stop on my back. Pain shot through my body in waves, but worse than the physical agony was the flood of fear that crashed over me like a tidal wave. I couldn't move. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe, but the fear was worse than the pain. It paralyzed me. Contact with Phobos's weapon—even just the blunt end—had done something to me, unleashed his power in a way that tore through my mind, turning every thought into horror.

Nightmares I'd never imagined spun through my brain, twisted images of everything I feared. I could feel my sanity slipping, the fear driving me to the edge of madness. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to end.

I wanted to die.

Through the haze of terror, I saw Thalia charge toward Phobos, her spear and shield at the ready. She'd seen me get knocked back and hadn't hesitated for a second. She thrust her spear at him, but the narrow space of the sewer tunnel worked against her. There wasn't enough room to use her agility to her advantage. She was forced to face the god of fear head-on.

And I was helpless. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch. Phobos had literally paralyzed me with fear. Every swing of his scythe sent gusts of wind rippling down the tunnel, each impact against the concrete shaking the ground beneath me.

Thalia dodged the massive swings, but she was being pushed back, her feet skidding across the stone with every desperate maneuver. I could see the strain in her movements, the wild look in her eyes—wide and terrified like a cornered animal. She wouldn't last much longer, not at this rate. Each time Phobos swung, the tunnel seemed to close in on her, the deathly blade coming closer with every pass.

Phobos swung his scythe in a sweeping arc, and Thalia ducked just in time, the blade whistling past where her head had been a split second earlier. The force of the swing smashed into the tunnel wall with a thunderous crack, sending chunks of concrete scattering across the ground. The wind from the swing staggered Thalia, and she stumbled back, momentarily dazed.

Before she could recover, Phobos yanked the scythe back with unnatural speed and swung again. This time, the back end of the weapon caught her squarely in the side. Thalia was hurled through the air, not backward, but sideways—slamming into the tunnel wall with a sickening thud. The impact was almost as loud as the scythe crashing into the wall moments earlier. She collapsed to the ground, crumpling just a few yards from me.

Thalia slumped against the cold concrete, gasping for air, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her wide eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at nothing. Her arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, sending a fresh wave of horror through me. Blood began to pool around her as I stood frozen, gripped by a terror deeper than anything Phobos had planted in my mind. I knew she was trapped in the same hellish visions, haunted by her worst nightmares. If that brutal impact didn't kill her, Phobos would finish the job—and then he'd come for me.

Phobos stepped forward and I could feel him peer into me. I couldn't lift my head to look at him, paralyzed by fear, my eyes fixed on the black hem of his robes. His voice, low and cold, echoed above me like a death sentence.

"So, Percy," Phobos mused, his tone laced with dark amusement as he glanced down at Thalia's motionless form. "This, is what you fear?" He raised his scythe, the massive blade gleaming in the dim light, and brought it down with deadly precision toward Thalia's broken body.

Dang. Thalia is in a terrifyingly vulnerable position, and Phobos is proving just how dangerous he is, not just physically, but emotionally as well. Percy's fear and helplessness in this moment hit hard. What do you think is going through his head as he watches Thalia like this? Does he have a way to save her—or is this where their luck finally runs out? Let me know your thoughts, and as always, your support through reviews, follows, and favorites is deeply appreciated.