Chapter Text
P E R C Y
He’s dreaming.
The edges of his vision aren't quite right, a telltale sign. Ahead of him, murky grey walls, cracked rock dipping sharply into a void, a pit where the floor should be.
Percy blinked, tried not to breathe too hard as he noted the mist, wisps of smoke that murmur, cry near silently. Remnants of the dead, he couldn't be sure, but he could feel it in the back of his throat. Near incomprehensible, they seemed to be warning him, almost enough to curb his compulsion to walk forward.
Almost.
Something within him felt just about to shatter, step by step, like a glass ball in his stomach. He kept moving, as the wisps crept back, as the souls murmuring faded into total obscurity.
Looking down made him dizzy. The pit yawned so wide and was so completely black.
‘It must be bottomless,’ he thought, daring to crouch a little further and grabbing the edge for support.
(The glass in his gut started to crack.)
Goosebumps along the front of his arms, as if something was trying to claw its way up from the depths, something monumental, something evil. He must have been right, a rumbling that echoes in his ears from the depth. Like rocks against one another, deep and etching.
Annoyingly, he knew this voice would remain in his mind, standing strong against the tests of time.
He hated that.
So…
It spoke and the walls shuddered, the sound bouncing as if the walls are mist, instead of rock. Unreal, a typical feature of dreams, but he shuddered along with the walls all the same.
Percy Jackson…The initial attempt failed, I see. Does he suspect anything?
‘Nothing at all.’ Another voice, the tone and the quality familiar came from somewhere beside him.
With a jolt, he realized the voice wasn’t addressing him. Someone was with the two of them, watching and waiting– the very same someone that was the cause of the trouble they all had faced so far back at camp and in the quest.
He looked over. The mist kept circling, kept on gathering into an almost opaque, dark, cloud. No one as of yet.
And you… It mused. You are tracking him and his…companions, correct?
‘...Yes,’ The person replied, their voice shifting and bouncing around his ears.
You seem hesitant.
‘It’s just that,’ The voice paused, and Percy’s hand began to drift towards his pocket. ‘The delivery of what you require…it needs certain sacrifices.’
Sacrifice is necessary for remaking the world. It growled out.
‘But was it really necessary here?’
Louder, clearer, he could just barely tell... His sight shifted, past the fading walls, past the static at the edges... There. In the shadows, drifting just in and out of sight as if it was no more than mist, they stood. Indiscernible in form, all he could grasp was their voice.
‘I could have brought you what I stole directly.’
Peace, little one. Our six months have bought us much. Zeus's anger has grown. Poseidon has played his most desperate card. Now we shall use it against him. Shortly you shall have the reward you wish, and your revenge. As soon as both items are delivered into my hands…
It stopped.
He’s here.
‘What?’
The figure walked a bit closer to the edge as Percy walked backward. Panic crept into the figure’s voice. ‘Did you bring him here, my lord?’
Of course not, god spawn! It snapped. He has brought himself here– his mind is too willy, boy!
There was a shift in the atmosphere, and Percy took another step back. The fog grew denser, obscuring his companion from his vision…but something became clearer. Corn silk, shiny blonde hair.
The little hero, the voice laughed from within the abyss. Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do. They have misled you, boy. Barter with me. I will give you what you want.
A shimmering began to grow, so bright against the dark that he had to cover his eyes. When his hand dropped from his face, an image hovered over the void: Sally Jackson, frozen at the moment she’d dissolved in a shower of gold. Her face was distorted with pain as if the Minotaur were still squeezing her neck. Her eyes looked directly at him, pleading, and although the bright apparition did not say a thing, he knew that she was telling him to run.
He tried to cry out, but suddenly began choking as the fog began to wrap around his throat, like invisible hands. The same force began to pull him forward; ready to drag him into the pit unless he stood firm.
Cold laughter echoed from the chasm, the voice becoming more and more hungry, possibly ready to devour him at any second and leave no remains– no. It wasn’t trying to pull him in…it was trying to pull itself out.
Help me rise, boy. Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!
Percy’s gaze shifted to the right again, watching the servant warily. ‘Don’t worry, my lord,’ He could hear the grin in their voice, a tone or two shift around. ‘I’ll make sure our little…package is delivered.’
‘The voice is scarily similar to someone,’ his mind unhelpfully supplied. He kicked himself mentally.
I know you will, the voice in the pit chortled, getting so loud and deep that Percy just wanted to cover his ears and make it stop please pLEASE PLEASE -
Do not fail me again, I will not show you such mercy next time–
“PERCY!”
—
His eyes shot open.
Magnus (Magnus?) was standing over him, going crazy with what seemed like worry. His blond hair was messy and cut in odd places, making it look extremely choppy. A red bruise grew on his right cheek, embedded suspiciously in the shape of a hand. Dried blood littered his body, down from a cut just above his left eyebrow, his nose, and his right elbow.
“You were screaming so much and– are you okay?”
“...Yeah, yeah, I’m.” Percy propped himself up on his elbows, “Nightmare.”
“Oh. Oh man,” The younger stood up and pointed towards two…no, 3 figures in the distance. “Annabeth’s making breakfast. We found something, but she and Grover would probably want to see that you’re alright first.”
“Alright, alright I’m…I’m on my way.” He stood up slowly and watched Magnus’ retreating back, the sea green in his eyes turning dark like an approaching hurricane.
He didn’t know much, but he knew one thing for sure:
The shade, the way their hair shone- and the way their voice cracked towards the end; it almost seemed a bit too easy to be true, but...
Magnus’ hair and voice were exactly like his companion in the dream.
M A G N U S
He hated New Jersey.
No offense to the state’s people or anything, but– Gods. Every single time he would get down after changing a bus or train station, he would either be attacked by a) A pack of monsters looking for tasty Demigod, cooked to medium rare with a side of screaming sauce; or b) A mob of people, which was as impossible to get through.
Then– oh joy! He, after much trouble, finally found Percy, Annabeth, and Grover in the middle of nowhere, right as Annabeth was about to end her watch. Cue a slap that he’s still able to feel, even though it’s been a good hour or so since the initial sting. Grover managed to stop her before she went all ha-mazan on him, but the glares she kept sending him for the first 45 minutes were enough to send her message across.
And then Percy started screaming.
“Well.” Annabeth looked up, tossing each of them a pack of nachos. “The zombie lives.”
“Very funny,” Percy grumbled, sitting down next to him, then gesturing to him. “What are you doing here and– how did you get here?”
“Well…it’s kind of a long story.” Magnus began fiddling with his fingers, staring at the grass as he felt all eyes shift to him. “I kind of…had help? Like– I don’t know how to explain it, but there was this weird light guiding me toward you all. I don’t know who sent it, I just followed it once I made up my mind about sneaking out…” His voice trailed off, looking at Percy and Grover sharing an odd look. Grover had one of confusion, and Percy had one of…he didn’t know.
“Well, I’m guessing if the light guided you it has to be from one of the gods right? So you should–”
“No way,” Annabeth butted in, glaring at Grover, then at Magnus. “You’re going back to camp right this instant after you eat your breakfast.”
“How do we know I’m not supposed to be here?” His voice raised, looking at Annabeth in the eyes. “Maybe the light was from Athena, we don’t know! It looked real similar to the one that guided us to Luke and Th—” His voice broke.
Annabeth looked like she’d been punched, and Grover hung his head.
Percy blinked, “Who’s–”
“Fine, you stay.” Annabeth stood up, packing her satchel. “Finish up quick.”
Percy watched her intently. “Uh…exactly how long was I asleep?”
“Long enough for me to cook breakfast, clearly,” She replied, laughing a little without any humor. “Magnus showed up. And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend.”
Percy squinted like his eyes had trouble focusing. Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket with something fuzzy in his lap, a dirty, unnaturally pink stuffed animal. No. It wasn’t a stuffed animal. It was a pink poodle.
The poodle yapped at him suspiciously. Grover said, “No, he’s not.”
He blinked. “Are you… talking to that thing?”
The poodle growled.
“This thing,” Magnus warned, “is our ticket west, according to what he told Grover. Be nice to him.”
“You can talk to animals?”
Grover ignored the question. “Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy.”
Percy’s eyes flitted to Annabeth and Magnus, probably thinking they’d crack up at this practical joke Grover was playing, but they both looked deadly serious.
“I’m not saying hello to a pink poodle,’ He rolled his eyes, finally. “Forget it.”
“Percy,” Annabeth said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I said hello to the poodle. Magnus said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle.”
The poodle growled. Annabeth and Percy stared at each other, neither of them caving. The silence was broken only by the occasional crunch of Magnus’ nachos.
Finally, Percy said hello to the poodle
Grover explained that he’d come across Gladiola in the woods and they’d struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who’d posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn’t really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.
“Wait, how does Gladiola know about the reward?” Magnus asked.
“He read the signs,’ Grover deadpanned like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“...Of course,’ He deadpanned back. ‘Silly me.’
“So we turn in Gladiola,” Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, “we get money and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple.”
Percy’s face shifted into something a bit more morose, and Magnus discreetly changed his gaze from the older boy’s face to the grass when he began to feel eyes on him.
“Not another bus,’ Percy said warily.
“No,” Annabeth agreed, moving towards Magnus and tapping him on the shoulder.
“What?” He said, blinking. “Oh–oh yeah,”
He pointed downhill, towards train tracks the trio probably hadn’t been able to see last night in the dark. “There’s an Amtrack station half a mile that way. It’s where I came from, actually. According to what Gladiola told Grover, the westbound train leaves at noon.”