Chapter Text
So, my dream began like this.
I was back in the Labyrinth, a self-aware maze that was always trying its best to kill whoever was stupid enough to go through it. I had been in here a few years ago, but that had been with my friends. Now I was alone. My sword, Riptide, was in my hands, but something was wrong. The celestial bronze blade was dirty and chipped. Even after everything I had used this sword for, it had never needed to be cleaned, sharpened, or reforged.
I heard something roar from a different corridor, and it sounded close, so I started running. I didn’t know what from, and I kept hitting dead ends, but I knew I needed to keep running.
I ran into an arena, one I recognized from a few years ago, where I had to fight a son of Poseidon, like me. The place had been filled with monsters, cheering while the gladiator matches were happening. Now the place was empty.
That is until the skeletons started clawing their way out of the ground.
Perseus Jackson.
A voice rang out as the floor cracked open, and skeletal hands began reaching out, like a zombie movie coming to life. It was enough to freak me out, so I tried to run back the way I came, but, surprise! The doorway had vanished. I could only watch in horror as skeletons rose out of the ground, my back to the once available exit.
I knew who they were. I had watched a scene just like this before, except I had been invisible and it had taken place in the Smithsonian. They were spartoi, skeleton warriors, and they were unstoppable. The moment they caught your scent, you couldn’t do anything but run. The only ones who could defeat them were Bianca and Nico di Angelo, children of Hades, god of the Underworld. I, being a son of Poseidon, did not have a chance. I couldn’t exactly drown something that didn’t have lungs.
I held up my decrepit sword, ready to fight, even though I knew that without a place to run, I would lose.
The skeletons fully rose out of the ground, muscles and gross gray skin glossing over their bones until, unless you really focused on them, you could see them as human. Really creepy humans.
My grip tightened. I had never actually died in a dream, I’d always woken up before the killing blow or fall could hit, but my friend Leo (who had died before) told me about a vision he had of this crazy sorceress that had threatened to kill him in a dream, and I wasn’t willing to test if it was possible.
The skeletons all stepped forward, and I raised my sword, but suddenly they stopped. I was starting to feel pretty proud of myself for managing to get emotionless skeletons to back down with nothing but a glare before they all pointed at me.
I mean, all at once, they pointed directly at me. Chills raced down my spine. I turned around, but I didn't see anything behind me except for the wall and a few imprints from kicks or punches. Ī may have added a few. I spun around again, only to come eye-to-eye with Charles Beckendorf.
I nearly dropped my sword. They were still the same skeletons, but now they were all wearing the faces of my friends. Not just that, but friends of mine who had died. Each face hit me like a brick. Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Bianca di Angelo, Silena Beauregard, the list went on. They were all still pointing at me, their faces still emotionless, like they were statues or something. Just when I thought it couldn’t get creepier, they all opened their mouths in unison and said one word.
“You.”
Then they all fell apart, their bones dropping into a river below.
I blinked, hard, and reopened my eyes to a dark cavern, with the river behind me, now. It was the river Acheron, the River of Pain, one of the obstacles Annabeth and I had to jump over while in Tartarus.
My girlfriend Annabeth had said that Acheron was punishment for the worst of the worst, including murderers. I still remember all the souls trapped in there, screaming at me to join them, that I was no better than them. They had shown me all the deaths I could have prevented, Beckendorf and the Princess Andromeda, Bianca and Talos, all those lives that were taken during the Second Titan War.
You could have stopped them! Their voices rang in my head. You could have taken their place!
Like I hadn’t wanted to. Like I had wanted to lose another friend. If I could go back in time and change things, I would’ve. I hated people sacrificing themselves for me. That moment when Annabeth had taken a poisoned knife for me during the Battle of Manhattan? That had been one of the scariest moments in my life, forever ingrained in my brain.
I’ve never told Annabeth, or anybody, how I had jumped me and her over Acheron. The truth was, I had no clue. I didn’t want Annabeth to die. I didn’t want to die. I just remembered hearing all those voices, and I realized that after all those people who had sacrificed themselves for me, I couldn’t let their deaths go to waste, and I'm pretty sure my dying would have fallen in that category.
So I jumped. I don’t remember how I made it. I just needed Annabeth to be safe, so I put everything I could into it, pushing with everything I could. And it had worked.
But now there wasn’t Annabeth with me. I was alone.
Yes, The voices responded. Heroes’ stories always end alone. Are you any different, hero? They put so much contempt on that last word, as if it was the worst insult they could think of.
Was I any different? Sure, I wanted to do the right thing, even if it was hard to do. But why did that make me a hero? Letting people die for me, how did that make me any better than the gods I've faced, sending demigods on quests and barely even caring if they survived or not?
I didn’t want to be like that.
“I told you.”
I turned, and I found myself in the throne room of Mount Olympus. Standing with me was the goddess Athena. She was studying a blueprint of some crazy building.
“Told me what?”
She turned to look at me. “You would give the world to save your friends.”
This again. A few years ago Athena had told me this before, that I’d fall to my fatal flaw, which was apparently loyalty. I still didn’t see how that was a flaw, but arguing with the goddess of wisdom wasn’t, well, wise. So I just let her say what she wanted and then I'd ignore her advice.
“Look, I'm not gonna keep arguing with you about this, Athena. Can I wake up now?”
Athena turned, and I was startled by the stormy look in her eyes. I mean, yeah, they were usually stormy, but this time her glare felt like a thundercloud, about to strike at any moment. “You fell into Tartarus with my daughter, Percy Jackson, because you wouldn’t leave her. You risked the entire mission because of love.”
I got angry. “Look, being the goddess of wisdom, I feel like you should know this. They said the doors had to be closed on both sides. How were we supposed to do that without going to Tartarus?”
“But you shouldn't have brought Annabeth with you!”
“Arachne already had her! She was going down either way, and there was no way I would’ve let her go alone!”
A sudden flash and I was blasted back into a column. I sat, dazed, as Athena came forward and lifted me by my shirt, her face shifting into my friend Jason Grace’s.
It felt like time stopped. Like Kronos was back, and affecting everything around me. I forgot it was a dream, I forgot it wasn’t Jason.
He glared down at me, clenching his fist. “You could have changed things. You could have saved her, saved us all.”
“No. Jason…”
“What if you had BEEN THERE?” He bellowed, throwing me across the room, and slamming me into another wall.
I coughed, blood spattering the once clean floor. Sometimes I missed having the mark of Achilles, something I got when I took a bath in the Styx. It had made me invulnerable except for this place on the small of my back. Invulnerability was a bonus when it came to battling dead friends with super strength.
“I would’ve saved you.” I croaked. I felt him pull my hair, my head lolling upwards.
“But you didn’t. You. Weren’t. There.” He slammed my head down, before throwing me through the air. This time, I managed to twist so that I landed on my feet. An impressive trick, I know. I dug in my pocket for Riptide (which took the form of a pen when I didn't use it) but, and this was the scariest part for me, Riptide wasn’t there. Riptide had always been there, and now that it wasn’t I actually started feeling helpless.
The skeletons reappeared, wearing the faces of my dead friends, and grabbed me, pulling me down. I watched as my hands peeled away, leaving nothing but bone. I tried to scream, but all that came out was chattering.
And they dragged me down into the darkness.