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Chapter 13: The Ordeals of The Labyrinth - Part 6 New
Bianca swallowed roughly, readying herself for what was to come.

The monster had disappeared into the passageway it had emerged from, slipping back into the shadows and whatever horrors awaited within them.

The daughter of Hades - apparently - had taken the brief, brief window of time to crouch down in the crevice the three of them had hidden in, huddling in between a wary Hecuba and a blatantly distressed Ophiotarus as she flipped through the pack Hecate had gifted her with increasing fervor.

Save Zoë, find the others, and escape the death trap maze.

That was only way this ordeal ended. The only way it could end, and the only way it would end, if she had anything to say about it.

She could do this.

She chanted that motto over and over under her breath, steeling herself with it as she went about checking out the goddess's boons in search of anything that could help -

"Wait, what?"

-before quickly realizing that something was funky.

She'd pulled two first aid kits, a box with what looked like an entire tray's worth of brownies (ambrosia, she knew that much from Luna and the hunters), two flasks of nectar, a strange leather-bound book whose title was written in a language that was only vaguely familiar (greek, but she didn't stop to puzzle it out) and with a gnarly illustration of a gorgon on its front cover, two changes of clothes that she had a hunch would fit her perfectly (and that wasn't the slightest bit creepy, not at all), a double pack of Oreos (she wasn't complaining, but why even?), and...she was still going.

The backpack shouldn't have possibly fit all of that- the container of ambrosia alone should have been cramped for space, but it all seemed to slot together perfectly. It also didn't weigh nearly enough.

And yet...

"How...?" She blinked, before swallowing a groan as it came to her. "More magic?"

She wasn't really asking - not when it was so blatantly obvious - but Hecuba's ears still twitched, before turning and regarding Bianca with a look so flat and unimpressed she found herself flushing and turning back to her task without another word.

How the dog could look so judgemental and mean about it, she had no idea.

And then her fingertips brushed against a ceramic surface, nestled deep within, and she found herself paling and recoiling at once, eyes going wide with sudden panic.

Something in her brain screamed at her, a sixth sense that had her breath picking up and her heartbeat drumming erratically beneath her ribs. A slightly calmer but no less urgent part of her urged her to do the reasonable thing and get far away from whatever unholy surprise Hecate had gifted her with.

Naturally, Bianca listened to neither. Reasonable went out the window and off the edge of a cliff a while ago - literally, along with her best friend, her ex-principle turned Manticore and Annabeth Chase.

Slowly, with careful, wary movements, she reached into the backpack and gingerly wrapped her hands around the jar - one of many, she realized belatedly - and lifted it out just as gradually.

There wasn't much light, but she could still see the silt-colored jar perfectly well. Smooth, unblemished and sealed shut with a band of tape - or something close to it - binding lid to jar.

There was a label on too - Only this one was written in plain English.

It took Bianca ten seconds more to read it, and the small inscription beneath it, and realize exactly what it was she was holding.

She paled.

It took her about five minutes after that to come up with a plan.

…​

Deep in the bowels of her new domain, Kampé suddenly stilled.

The prisoners who could see her from in the darkness began to cower in their cells - they were the monsters, nature spirits and the odd creature or three sentenced to her care by her benefactors - and they shied away from her as far as they could, straining against their chains in fear of her ire, but the former jailor beast of Tartarus paid the inferior maggots no mind.

Their time would come soon enough.

Instead, her attention stirred as she sensed a foreign presence lurking in her halls, dogging her chosen path. An unfamiliar scent, neither ally - in as much as the Kronos's mongrels could be called such - nor prey.

An interloper.

"Who thinks to walk in my shadow unannounced?" She snarled, her hiss the symphony of a thousand serpents. Her face pinched in anger, her scales twisting, and the heads on her midsection writhed and morphed into twisting chimera as her anger surged. "Step into the light, before I drag you out!"

Left unsaid was the fate the fool would likely meet regardless of their choice, but her lust for torment would not be denied.

For a moment, her order went unheeded. A malevolent screech welled up in her throat at the disrespect, venom frothing beneath her tongue, but before she could choose to act, a low growl ripped the silence asunder.

From the darkness ahead, a diminutive figure padded. A black labrador, smaller and less threatening in stature than even the puniest hellhound.

Kampé, however, was not so easily fooled.

"Mist." She spat derisively, recognizing the power that wafted from its form, however meek it appeared to be. "You reek of it, creature. A personal touch - you are a servant of the Three-Faced one. A favored pet, perhaps."

The mongrel gave no hint of a reply beyond the slight raising of its hackles.

Kampé was unimpressed. Her wings shifted, stretching out like looming sentinels until they scraped against the wall. Her tail beat the earth in ill-concealed warning, and she let the faintest hint of poison leak out of her maw as faint green fumes that could kill mortals in a single agonizing breath - even most demigods.

"What business does the Goddess Of Crossroads have with me?"

This time there was a reply - but not one she had been expecting.

The labrador gave another low growl, lowered its head, and charged right at her.

What?


The mongrel managed to make it five paces, crossing half the distance between them as Kampé momentarily lost her composure and floundered at the audacity.

And then her instincts snapped back into clarity, her rage ignited into an inferno akin to the roaring waves of the Phlegethon deep in Tartarus, and her barbed whip materialized in her hand and cracked through the intervening space with the furious snap of her hand like thunder most foul.

The blow struck the dog across its hide, but rather than tear it asunder, its form seemed to burst, dispersing into a cloud of smog-colored mist before it solidified once more - this time in the form of six snarling dogs, far larger than the first and attempting to surround her as they darted forward.

"Petty tricks." She hissed, just as unimpressed by the nuisance's efforts. "Observe"

Her whip cracked again, sweeping through the row and effortlessly rendering them into dust. The sixth retreated then, slinking back warily as it eyed the motion of her whip.

Kampé smiled murderously, raising her whip on high - before she quickly rounded in place and brought it down on an unassuming patch of shadows.

She relished the crack of her whip against flesh, the desperate whine of agony as the blow hit the real dog hidden behind layers of Mist, the would-be clever illusion behind her dispersing into nothingness as it failed to ensnare her senses.

"Did you think you could deceive me, little servant?" She crooned maliciously, looming over its trembling form. "I, who even the Olympians once feared to cross?"

The sharp scent of copper crept into the damp air, and she eyed the mongrel in satisfaction, observing its fur and delighting in how quickly it grew matted with blood from the rent she had wrought across its flesh. The traces of one of her milder venoms were also apparent, one that would bring the impudent thing pain unimaginable.

Such an enjoyable torment that would be.

And then it surprised her once more. It lunged, evading the second crack of her whip, and Kampé raised a foreleg and prepared to crush it into the dirt.

But it did not attack, as she had expected it to.

Instead, it slipped past her descending claws, narrowly avoiding being ripped to shreds as it bolted past her and shot off down the passageways behind.

"Cowardly pup!" Kampé roared in both anger and glee - it had been so very long since any of her prey had attempted to escape from her. All but the lowliest learned the futility of the attempt far too soon, and she would enjoy teaching the Hecate-servant that lesson as well. "There is nowhere to hide!"

She took off in pursuit, wings scraping trenches through the walls, her heads roaring a cacophony of predatory calls as they readied for the hunt. Her cackles were louder still, a nightmare all to their own.

As she thundered past, her prisoners trembled in their shackles once more, terrified of her terrible mirth and what it would mean for them once she tired of her latest quarry.

The chase might have lasted for hours or seconds, it did not matter. Kampé pursued the black dog through darkness and shadow and light, reveling in the rich taste of its fear, delighting in the way it began to flag and slow as the pain and poison took their toll.

It wasn't until the mongrel led her to the centerpiece of her collection, the very chamber in which she'd imprisoned Zoé Nightshade that it finally began to fall, slowing to a crawl as it struggled not to collapse.

"At last!" She roared and surged forward to claim her prize.

And then the trap she'd never suspected closed on her.

"Now!"

A high, unfamiliar voice called out, and Kampé had no time to search out its owner.

Something large, quick and wet rammed into her with all the force it could muster. A pair of horns gored into her side, far from a killing blow but far from pleasant, and the power of the impact sent her careening off to the side with a screech, crashing down far from her pray, her assailant and the suspended lieutenant of Artemis.

More filthy intruders!?

She leaped to her feet, whip at the ready -

"Moo!"

-and froze.

That form... that scent...

"Ophiotaurus." Kampé bared her fangs in shock, disbelieving. The bane of Olympus, here of all places?

For its part, the beast looked utterly terrified, as well it should be.

"Moo!" It cried piteously as Kampê stepped forward, shock falling away for familiar fury as she prepared to lunge and sink her teeth into the beast's hide in repayment for this indignity - the Titans could have its entrails when she was well and done with it.

She never got the chance.

"Hey! Leave him alone!"

The most insulting intruder of all appeared then. A half-blood child, pale-faced and sallow-cheeked but standing before her all the same. And slumped behind her, still dead to the world but very much not suspended in chains any longer was Nightshade herself.

The pieces fell into place.

The servant of Hecate was a distraction, Kampé realized at once, and this time her rage was so great that not even Typhoon himself could have matched it in that instant, a ploy to keep me distracted while the girl and the Ophiotaurus stole away with Artemis's pet.

"Demigod!" She hissed, unfurling her wings in all her monstrous glory. "You... you dare steal from me!?"

And the girl - this insignificant, wretched slip of a mortal - looked upon all the horror that she was and dared to glare back!

"My name is Bianca Di Angelo, and your damn right I do!"

And then she lobbed the object she'd been holding straight for her head. It sailed forward unerringly, propelled forward by surprising strength.

Kampé snarled and made to bat it away in her charge for the girl.

That was her greatest mistake.

Her claws rent through the jar, and the Greek fire within detonated with a blast of light and force fit to rouse the dead.

Boom!

Kampé howled in agony as the flames surged across her face, running across her scales and melting them off her very flesh.

"And there's more where that came from!"

A second later, another jar burst at her feet, and she was cut down to her knees as they began to crumble away. The heads on her torso lasted only until the third jar was thrown into the blaze, and then they too melted before the unnatural conflagration.

No!

She could not stop this - she had not been prepared for an attack of this magnitude, and all that was left to her now was to glare at the perpetrator through the blaze with all all the cruelty she had left to muster.

"I will have my vengeance." She vowed, voice a ghastly rasp over the roar of the flames and her own burning flesh. "You will live to suffer for this day, Bianca Di Angelo!"

The girl's face quivered, but her jaw set quickly, and her voice was remarkably steady when she replied.

"I'll take my chances. Now beat it."

And then she lobbed the last jar of Greek fire, and Kampé was incinerated into nothing, swearing vengeance most terrible against a girl who'd never fought a monster in the entirety of her life and still managed to cast one such as her back into the abyss on her first attempt.

...​

Elsewhere:

A figure paused and gaped incredulously as the wind spirits in his employ whispered reports in his ears, each more ludicrous than the last.

His disbelief and mounting fury twisted his expression until it was nearly unrecognisable, and his silvery scars were stretched taught over his twitching face as he realised that his plans were actively being strangled in their infancy - not out of foolishness, or malice, but out of sheer, unmatched stupidity.

"What - exactly - do those bloodthirsty fools think they're doing?!"

And with that roar, he vanished in a flash of light and power so mighty it quite literally levelled his personal quarters and reduced everything in the immediate vicinity to so much dust.

...​

Everybody else: Actively suffering

Bianca: Running successful rescue ops with her magical animal familiars and speedrunning her Demigod training arc.

Also, if anyone things Kampé was a bit weaker here than she should be... wonder why that is, hmm XD???

Next Chapter: The conclusion of Luna and Thalia's trip in Apollo's mind, and all the consequences that come with it. Only two chapters left until the third, shorter and final act of this arc begins!!!

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous.

If you feel like it, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi: Firewillreign
 
Chapter 14: The Ordeals Of The Labyrinth - Part 7 New
Fiendfyre was evil.

That wasn't a theory, an opinion. Nor a speculation or a hypothesis, or anything else of that uncertain sort.

Anyone who'd encountered it and lived to tell the harrowing tale - and few those numbers were and always would be - would agree that it was simple, immutable, and inarguable fact.

Beyond just the threat of fiery demise, or the unearthly glow, or even the monstrous chimeric shapes that would erupt from even the slightest ember almost of their own free will, there was an intrinsic malevolence to the flames that was apparent right from the moment they were called to unholy life.

Fiendfyre was evil, and you didn't have to know of the spell beforehand to recognize it - and faced with the threat of it at point-blank range, neither Thalia nor Luna hesitated.

There were no words, or calls, or whispers, or even so much as a glance exchanged between the two of them.

As one, acting on sheer survival instinct alone, they turned and ran for their lives.

Thalia didn't dare look back as they scrambled away, but she didn't need to. She felt it as flames behind erupted in a burst of malicious scorching heat, a stream that expanded into a torrent, and then a tidal wave, giving chase all the while.

The army of monsters that had been herding them back and on the verge of pouncing vanished, melting back into the molten river they'd emerged from without even a whimper - it was as if they'd all collectively realized that they just weren't needed anymore.

Or maybe they were also fleeing in terror from the far more dangerous figures that were gaining on them fast - dime-a-dozen wannabe's recognizing the apex predator for what it was and having the good sense to scram.

Luna's monster - or her nightmare, fear, whatever the silver-masked figure was - vanished as well.

But their voice didn't.

"Flee, Blood-traitor! Run for your lives!" The voice bellowed over the din of the screaming flames, at once a roar and a serpent-like hiss. The force of it made the bedrock under them rumble and the void of darkness surrounding them quiver. "There is nowhere to hide!"

Gods. Damn. It. All!

Thalia dared to turn to Luna, ignoring the scalding inferno blazing at the edge of her vision through sheer force of will as she did.

For the first time since they'd met at Westover, the daughter of Thanatos didn't look calm, prepared, vaguely bemused, or whichever kind of half-admirable, half-entirely irritating shade of zen she seemed to be channeling at one moment or the other.

Personally, Thalia didn't friggin care for it.

At all.

"What are we going to do?!" She yelled, her heart just about bursting when her foot hit a jutting stone and she nearly lost her balance for a half-second. She could feel the Fiendfyre snap at her heels eagerly.

"Lovegood!" Reaching out to shake her like she was tempted to would probably be a death sentence for both of them, so she had to resign herself to roaring at her as they bolted deeper and deeper into the surrounding darkness.

Running in blind in just about every sense of the word because it was either that or ending up as charcoal.

"I- I don't-" Luna even sounded off-kilter, weak and dazed like she was half-present and half-somewhere else entirely. There was a glazed look in her silver eyes, dim in the unholy crimson glow, and if her pupils dilated any further they'd probably vanish entirely. "Apollo - we need to find Apollo"

"We aren't going to find shit if we burn to death!"

Thalia almost screamed in frustration when Luna offered no response to that, still running but clearly still lost in a haze of fear and only just paying enough attention to keep running beside her.

Even that was looking to be a close thing.

She could feel her insides burn from the stress and the building ache of exhaustion, and even the rush of adrenaline that was likely the only thing keeping her on her feet at this point wouldn't

They were running out of time-

A flash of inspiration hit her.

"The others!" Thalia snapped, hoping that it would work. "We need to fix Apollo and find the others before it's too late, Lovegood. Think of your friends! Nico and Bianca need your help!"

That did the trick.

Luna jolted mid-run, and her brows furrowed fiercely. The dazed look melted off her features, and Thalia could see the moment her eyes snapped back into focus.

"They do." She agreed, and even though her tone had once more dropped to something deceptively mild, there was no mistaking the steel in it.

Thalia didn't even try to suppress her hysterical grin.

"It's not real Fiendfyre. It can't be." Luna said lowly, fingers twitching in preparation for something. A spark of silver light across her fingertips. "It's fear made manifest... and if it's just fear..."

A moment passed, and her head turned Thalia's way.

"When I stop, keep running."

The words brooked no argument - no that Thalia would have bothered.

She didn't think even to, too relieved that Luna had her head screwed back on right to consider it, she wouldn't have had the time to regardless, because a heartbeat later the other girl was skidding to a halt and turning to meet the incoming inferno head-on.

"Expecto patronum!"

Silver light erupted behind her, and the malice of the Fiendfyre promptly recoiled like it had been slapped in the face.

A different sort of warmth settled into her bones, like a warm drink on a cold day.

Like saftey.

Abruptly, she found herself remembering simpler times. Happier times.

Nights spent around the campfire with a seven-year-old Annabeth and a Luke who wasn't the absolute lunatic everyone had been telling her off since the moment she popped out that damned tree.

And before even that, a little boy with blonde hair and identical electric blue eyes giggling up at her, his smile pulling at the scar on his little lip from that time he'd tried to eat a stapler of all things.

The disorientation lasted for a mere second, but the feeling lingered.

She tried to ignore the inexplicable stinging in her eyes as she shook herself out of it, belatedly realizing that she'd stopped running and hadn't been turned to ash for it.

"No!"

She whirled on the spot, just in time to see a large, iridescent shape charging through the retreating wall Fiendfyre like a hot knife through butter. Everywhere it passed, silver light and mist expanded, enveloping the cursed flames and smothering them out like they'd been doused with sand - and then the flames parted, and Thalia caught sight of the thing that had nearly killed them both.

"Death Eater." She heard Luna whisper.

The silver skull mask was expressionless, but its owner still managed to express utter loathing in the instant it had left before the silver comet slammed into it like a freight train and popped it like a soap bubble, a hateful screech cracking out and nearly bursting her eardrums from the pitch of it.

The victory was downright cathartic but short-lived.

As soon as the shadows dispersed, there was a change in the darkness surrounding them. The river of flames dimmed in the distance, its light spluttering and weakening. The blackness seemed to lick at the edges of her perception, almost tentatively, before beginning to swallow them.

Thalia's hackles rose as she felt invisible walls begin to close in on them.

"Luna?"

"I know."

She closed her eyes, craning her neck like she was trying to listen for something.

The darkness continued to seep in around them like quicksand, faster and faster with every passing breath.

"Luna-!"

Her eyes snapped back open.

"Found him."

And then she stepped forward, seized Thalia's arm in a death grip and pivoted sharply on her heel, and space twisted.

Crack!

...​

They appeared in a sprawling grassy, sunlit meadow, feet landing amongst an ocean of green and pink and golden-yellow flowers that were only vaguely familiar in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Gladioli

She almost tumbled to the grass as her stomach heaved. Her skin prickled with the phantom sensation.

"Ugh." She groaned. "What was-"

She was cut off by the sound of crackling thunder, and she looked up despite herself.

Her throat went bone dry.

They'd finally found Apollo.

To say that the god of the sun was in a bad way would be like saying that the last few hours had been difficult.

Gone were the designer clothes, and the godly aura, and even the sense of brilliance he'd emitted on the two times Thalia had met him.

Instead, he was hunched down amidst the flowers, dressed in mud-colored rags, and his skin was so pale he looked more dead than alive. His face twisted - literally. The features and contours melted and reformed before her very eyes, going from child-like to adult, to ancient and husk-like before cycling right back around again. His hair changed to every shade and length, never lingering on any one state, and even his eyes flickered through a rainbow's worth of colors without settling on a single one.

That wasn't the problem.

It was the string that was emerging from his chest, golden and near-blinding to look at, a length of light that ran up and up and up, and ended up wrapped around the clenched fist of a giant.

A colossal figure fifty stories high and made of swirling clouds and rapid air currents loomed over Apollo, just barely forced into a human-like shape. It had no face beyond the vaguest impression of one shaped from a roiling thundercloud, not even the barest hint of living features, but it still radiated authority and tyrannical cruelty.

Thalia took one glance at the looming giant, this storm given form, and knew exactly what it was with soul-deep certainty.

Her father.

Or a representation of him, or something.

It didn't matter in the end. Her spine went so rigid it was a miracle it didn't snap from the pressure.

Their presence went ignored.

The storm giant didn't say a word, but his gargantuan hand tugged at the string, drawing another yard of it out of Apollo's chest, and the god howled.

"No!" Even voice was broken, disjointed and multilayered, as if a thousand people were screaming all at once. His hands snapped up to seize the rope and try to tug it back into himself, but it was like watching a fly rage against a skyscraper. Utterly futile. "You can't do this! Not again!"

"Oh." Luna murmured in realisation

Thalia didn't know what connection she'd just made, or why she sounded so sad about it - she was busy trying to preserve whatever was left of her dignity and not show her fear or gape like an idiot at the sight before her.

What even was this quest!?

That
effort promptly went to shit when the other girl began to walk right towards the mess they'd stumbled into without an apparent care in the world.

"Look out!"

She bolted behind her, wary of the storm giant - that thing was big enough to bully Talos - but it made no move to stop them. It didn't even react as they closed the distance and reached Apollo.

"You can't!" the sun god was screeching, over and over again "I won't let you!"

"You have to."

Luna's gentle whisper jolted Apollo into silence, and he turned to stare at the daughter of Thanatos uncomprehendingly as she dropped to her knees at his side. His stranglehold on the golden string didn't abate, though.

"Let go, Lord Apollo," Luna murmured, something sad but firm in her tone. "There's no point putting it off any longer."

"No!" The god protested, features reforming again. This time, he looked like a child, petulant and devastated. There were tears in his eyes. "It's mine!"

Thalia winced when she realized that blood was pouring. Apollo
s grip was so unrelenting that he was ripping the inside of his palms to shreds as he tried to stop the string - whatever it was - from being pulled out of him.

She blinked

Blood, bright crimson and coppery. Not golden ichor.

Mortal blood.

What?

"It is. But you can't hold on like this forever."

"I can." He whimpered, features shifting again. Now he looked like an old man on death's doot - The whole display was miserable. "It's mine. He can't keep doing this to me! It's not fair."

An Olympian talking about fairness.

The irony.

"No, it isn't." Luna agreed softly. "But it is inevitable. You are needed, Lord Apollo. We need your help. Artemis needs your help."

At his sister's name, Apollo's expression shuttered. His face finally settled - he looked to be about their age, eyes almost the same shade of blue as her own, and they were steeped in devastation.

Looking at him made her fingers twitch helplessly, though she didn't know why.

"Artemis..."

"Yes."

"She needs my help," Apollo whispered.

"Yes."

"But." He looked utterly shattered as he glanced down at the string, and at his bloody, bloody hands. "But..."

"But nothing," Luna said, and the finality in that word must have been what did it. "Or is Artemis not worth the sacrifice?"

"She is." He said immediately. "Always and forever."

New life sparks in those familiar eyes - bitter and angry, but just as determined as anything Thalia had ever seen or felt.

This time, when he looked up at the looming giant, he glared.

"I hate you."

The storm giant didn't react. It just kept pulling.

Apollo released the string, and then he screamed when the next tug tore the rest of it out of him in one golden burst.

The storm giant flickered, blurred, and then vanished with a burst of wind.

Thalia stared after it, blinking spots out of her eyes.

"What just happened?"

Luna blinked. She shot a glance at Apollo, and then turned back to her.

Thalia got the impression she was trying not to shrug.

"I suppose we're about to find out."

And then she raised a hand and snapped her fingers.

"Ennervate."

The world dissolved into motes of light.

...​

And Thalia

Woke​

Up

...​

"Finally. I thought you two were dead."

...

"... What in Tartarus happened in there?"


...​

Elsewhere:

Nico hugged his knees to his chest, trying to block out the sounds of chaos and cranage surrounding him.

It didn't help.

Everyone and everything just kept screaming,

Anteus wailed as the beings Nico had awakened dogpiled him and quite literally tore him to pieces. His agony echoed through the walls of his arena like none had ever before, and they didn't end.

Annabeth screamed and sobbed as she tilted Percy's head up and pressed her hands against his chest over and over again, trying to bring him back.

Even the monsters that had seemed so completely intimidating screamed and died in droves as more and more undead wraiths fell on them, acting on only the vaguest hint of an idea from him.

None of them would just stop.

Nico was sick of all of it.

He wanted Bianca to hold him and ruffle his hair and complain about mythomagic like she always did.

He wanted Luna to smile at him and make him feel safe and make things better again.

He wanted Percy not to be-

Not to be-

He swallowed, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

"Over." He whispered to himself when he managed to inhale a raggedy breath. "I want this to be over."

As it turned out, there was power in intent.

There was a strange, eerie sensation in his gut. A tug, and a twist, and something else entirely other.

Every shadow in the arena froze, before shooting into action. In an eerie recreation of the seconds before Anteus's life became torment itself, the shadows abandoned the skulls of the fallen and the dust they'd made of Anteus and his followers and rushed to a point just a few feet in front of Nico.

They pooled there, growing and growing until, for the second time in a row, Nico found himself staring at a towering pillar of darkness so complete even the uneven lighting seemed to shy away from it.

Only this time, it felt like something else stared back.

Strangely, he wasn't afraid.

"I want this to be over." He whispered, one final time.

There was a beat.

And then the shadow moved. It spilled onto him, onto Annabeth and Percy and swallowed them whole.

Moments later, when it melted into nothingness, so did they.

...​

As always, leave your comments and ideas and if you don't like it, please be courteous.

If you feel like it, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi: Firewillreign
 
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Let's go back to the prophecy,

Seven shall flee west to the goddess in chains
Seven people fled west (to LA then San Francisco) to rescue Artemis, the seven are Luna, Nico, Bianca, Zoë, Percy, Thalia, and Annabeth. The fleeing refers to them running from the gods.

All will fall in the land without rain
In the land without rain (the desert) they fell into the labyrinth.

And witness firsthand the wisest kin slayer's pain
The wisest kin slayer might be referring to Daedalus considering he is a son of Athena and he killed his nephew, Perdix.

The giant to snuff out the heroes's breath
The giant
in this case most likely refers to Antaeus suffocating the hero (Percy)

And the daughter's strife to invoke death
This line probably refers to Luna and Thanatos, but it might be a reference to something yet to occur.

Campers and Hunters combined prevail
This is pretty obvious, but it does mean that Zoë is absolutely necessary for them to succeed, or some other hunter.

The Bane of Olympus shall lead the trail
The Bane of Olympus (the Ophiotaurus) will probably lead them to Artemis.

Freedom won forth with sacrifice
And twelve at last pay the greatest price

These last two lines are still pretty ambiguous but the twelve could be referring to the twelve Olympians or maybe something else.
 
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Chapter 15: The Ordeals Of The Labyrinth - Part 8 New
Percy woke up.

That was a surprise all on its own - though he wasn't quite sure he wanted to acknowledge why - but it was where he woke up that was the real icing on the cake.

He blinked his eyes open, and inexplicably found himself standing in the middle of a familiar throne room. The air was heavy and dark, but the floor and the walls were gleaming marble, engraved with great artistic scripts and illustrations of olden Greek myths. Gold, silver and precious stones of every sort were inlaid everywhere the eye could see, and the shine they put out almost overwhelmed the lighting from the torches, all of them held up by racks made of bleached white bones.

All of this was, naturally, second to the god a few feet away from him.

He was at least ten feet tall, just like the last time they'd met, and dressed in the same black silk robes with a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, and his hair was shoulder-length and jet-black. He wasn't the same kind of muscle monster that was Ares, or almost painfully brilliant like Apollo - in fact, he wasn't anything like any other god Percy had ever met - but he radiated power all the same.

He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking as graceful and at ease as a coiled serpent, and he stared down at him with the same cold expectation he had three years ago.

"Jackson." Hades rumbled "Awake at last."

Percy stared up at his divine uncle, long and hard.

"Oh. I'm dead."

The fight with Anteus...

He felt an odd sense of detachment as he remembered his half-brother killing him. Exhaling for lack of anything better to do, he lifted a hand and ran it through his hair.

Dimly, he noted that his skin had an odd tinge to it. Sallow and pale, and almost spectral. Like he could see through it if only he tried hard enough.

Even that didn't phase him.

His next thought did, though.

Annabeth. Mom-

"You're not dead, Jackson."

- and there went that said thought, screaming off into oblivion as Percy's eyes snapped up "Wh-"

"-Though you were, in fact, killed."

...

Percy stared at it. Hades looked back, just as expectantly.

...

"This is the part where you explain."

Strangely enough, the god doesn't threaten to smite him for daring to make that borderline demand. His unusually placid expression doesn't even twitch.

"The other ill-begotten spawn of my brother managed to snuff the breath out of you. Athena's get-" Percy twitched at the mention of Annabeth. "Succeeded in resuscitating you before your soul made it to Charon's grasp and crossed the Styx."

The god fixed him with a steely look.

"Consider yourself lucky. Her timing was certainly fortuitous. A few moments longer and you would have been lost to the living forevermore."

Percy processed that with the same heady detachment as before - it felt like being blissed out on disbelief, only there was no bliss to be felt at all.

"I don't remember meeting Charon."

He doesn't remember anything after Anteus at all, come to think of it. Even when he tries, the only thing he gets is the faintest impression of cold.

"Nor will you. Some experiences belong solely to the realm of the dead. This is one of them."

"Huh." There was another pause. "So I'm definitely not dead."

That was... good.

Hades closed his eyes, impatience finally dawning on his features.

"No."

"Then..." He blinks. "Is this a demigod dream?"

That'd be about bog-standard, actually.

"Not quite, but for the purposes of this little talk, the principle is the same."

And there's the vague, confusing divine, non-straightforward answer he knew and hated.. He was getting a little worried there.

"Why?" A terrible thought occurred. "I swear if your helm's gone missing again-!"

"Nothing of the sort!" Hades snapped, dark eyes narrowing in displeasure. The ground beneath his feet seemed to rumble in warning. "And it would behoove you to stop interrupting me, Jackson"

Percy scowled.

"What? Are you going to sic your furies on me again? At least this time it'd be for something I actually did."

...

Wait, did he just say that aloud?

Judging by the incredulous rise of Hades's brows and the rapidly growing rage on his face, then yes, he did.

"You-!" He rumbled ominously.

Being temporarily dead must have fried his impulse control. And now the God of the dead was going to fry the rest of him, dream or no dream.

Except he didn't.

Right as his uncle went to move - probably to vaporize him - his face blanked. An odd, eerie, stillness seemed to come over him and the aura of wrathful malice he'd been exuding half a second ago whittled down to nothing.

"Impudent," Hades grumbled, and Percy felt himself exhale a breath he hadn't known he was holding at that unspoken stay of execution. "Imperitent."

"I have been called that," he admitted to both.

"Stop. Talking."

Percy stopped talking.

"Regardless of your... present circumstances." Hades glared down at him pointedly, as if trying to remind him. Which was frankly, because it's not like Percy was going to forget.

Ever.

"I have a task for you, Jackson."

Ah.

And now they were two for two on familiar ground.

Gods huffing and puffing only to ask him for something? Classic.

"In case you forgot, or just didn't get the news all the down in the underworld." Hades frowned dangerously and Percy had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to tone down whatever it was his brain was going to spew out next. "I am on a quest. And it's kind of a big deal."

"I am aware. You've become tangled in yet another prophecy in your quest to save Artemis, and you face the threat of both the Titans and Zeus and his hounds" His tone darkened. "As do my children."

"Yeah, so-"

Wait.

...

For a moment, Percy thought he'd misheard him.

Then he glanced up, looking into onyx-black eyes that he abruptly and with a cold jolt of panic realized were far too familiar, and the pieces clicked together faster than they ever had in his life.

He stumbled back, jaw going slack. "No."

"So death has made you quicker on the uptake, has it?" Hades said flatly. "Joy."

"No."

There was no way - Bianca was a bit reserved, but she was pleasant enough, and Nico was a little ball of sunshine who probably swelled triple-A batteries for breakfast.

And yet...

"But they're nothing like you!" Percy blurted out, and Hades's brow twitched as if he was strangling the urge to do terrible things to him.

He probably was.

"My children," In the end, the god blatantly ignored his outburst. "-Are not ready for the trials of demigod life, and they are certainly not ready for these machinations of fate. You will protect them until such a time that I can bring them to the Underworld."

It's phrased like an order. The sentiment behind is one he can totally get behind.

Only, he found himself opening his mouth to ask-

"Why can't you help them yourself?"

He didn't blurt it out this time. His tone was perfectly cool and level.

The words still landed like meteors, and everything went silent.

Why do you people never help?

(Why didn't he help)


Hades gave him a long, long look - but he didn't grow any angrier.

Percy wasn't expecting an answer, but in the next few seconds, he got one all the same.

"Would that I could, if not for the consequences of this damnable quest." He blinked, and Hades's gaze seemed to pin him in place. "That accursed Oracle has unleashed another prophecy. The Olympians are breaking their vows of non-interference without impunity. Thanatos walks the earth in a corporeal avatar for the first time in millennia, all for the sake of the first and only child he has ever sired."

There's a quiet pause, filled with tension.

"And what a revelation that was." He murmured, before refocusing on Percy. "These actions... they are ripples stirring the surface of a lake and disturbing all that lies beneath. The Underworld is in turmoil. Forces and things are stirring in the depths of my realm... threats so ancient I had nearly forgotten them."

That wasn't ominous at all.

He swallowed, throat sand-paper dry.

"As it stands, it is all I can do to speak to you in this avatar and grant my blessing to my son to supplement his power." He blinked, but Hades didn't give him the chance to ask. "A state of affairs I will soon amend... but until then, watch over my children, Jackson. See them through this madness unharmed, and I will grant you a boon worthy of the King of The Underworld. Fail..."

Percy smiled weakly. "Poof goes the demigod?"

"Indeed."

Charming - this is why he hated these stupid family reunions.

"You don't have to threaten me. I'd look out for them no matter what."

And that was the truth.

"We shall see." Hades's eyes narrowed. "Let me offer you one small fragment of wisdom for the trials to come."

He tensed - there was something in those words...

"Some deaths cannot.... and should not be prevented." There was a growing pressure beginning to surround them. The walls of the Throne room began to tremble. "And some... are better for all."

And then Hades abruptly vanished, his throne disappearing with him.

Percy felt a sharp tugging at the base of his navel, and he woke up as the Throne room burst into nothingness around them.

...​

He gasped and came alive to an eyeful of utter blackness, and a sensation that was entirely too close to free-falling for comfort.

Before Percy could do much more than stiffen, the blackness melted away, retreating to surround them in a looming dome that still somehow had enough light within for him to see the boy - Nico - hunched over beside him.

He scrambled up to his knees, chest heaving and mind roaring on adrenaline-

"Percy?"

Annabeth.

He turned, and his heart stuttered.

Annabeth was right there, on her knees next to him and staring at him with eyes so wide he almost winced. That expression alone had to hurt.

He cracked a shaky smile. By her sides, her slack arms began to twitch.

"Hey, wise-"

He heard the low, keening sob a second after she crashed into him, arms wrapping around him in a stranglehold. Her shoulders heaved.

"You idiot!" Her weeping voice cracked into his ear, and Percy would have said something smart, really he would have, except it felt like there was a boulder, and his eyes had gone blurry and unfocused. "You stupid, stupid idiot!"

"I-"

"Bianca!"

What?

Both of them looked up just in time to see Nico sprint full-force into a gaping Bianca, who'd stumbled out of the wall of shadows surrounding them in a heartbeat. Leaving on her with so much of her weight Bianca was practically carrying her was Zoë Nightshade, her eyes glassy and unfocused - the less said about the rest of her, the better.

Behind them, a black dog and the literal head of a cow followed suit.

Before Percy could even hope to ask - or, more likely, splutter out something undignified and utterly embarrassing, the situation got even more absurd.

"Jackson?"

No way.

But Thalia's voice was unmistakable, slipping out of the darkness. Behind her trailed an equally stunned Luna Lovegood, her arms propping up a blonde boy who was only vaguely familiar and an old man in leather armor who regarded them with a look so inordinately heavy it was a wonder it didn't fall right off his face.

"We're... we're back!" Nico cried, sounding euphoric, his face pressed against Bianca's hold. "We're all back together again!"

The moment Percy heard those words, he knew immediately that things were going to go straight to shit.

Nothing this good happened without cost.

And sure enough, not five seconds later, the other shoe dropped like a hammer.

"There you all are."

The voice reverberated through the air, and the dome of shadows surrounding them suddenly recoiled and was banished into oblivion as a wave of searing golden light carved through it like a hot knife through butter.

When Percy managed to blink the spots out of his eyes, he found.

A seven-foot figure in a black suit staring them down, his scarred face contorted in satisfaction, and an unholy gleam shining through his eyes.

"I was beginning to think I'd never find you."

Behind them, the old man who'd followed Luna and Thalia snarled.

"Prometheus."

...​

So... It's Not PJOVER!

Next Chapter: The Titan Of Foresight

If you feel like it, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi: Firewillreign
 
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Okay damn Percy died for a bit but that was more medically dead enough for Hades to play games with him for a bit. Hades being Nico and Bianca's dad blew his mind same with Hades actually looking out for them and explaining that the quest is the thing keeping him from helping.

Looks like Prometheus has stopped by to say hello, I think he's proud of the questers for doing their own thing and not following the orders of the gods.
 
"Strangely enough, the god doesn't threaten to smite him for daring to make that borderline demand. His unusually placid expression doesn't even twitch." it's strange that this is in present tense

otherwise good chapter!
 

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