This Dark Night ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹

―iii. naomi runs away from her feelings

NAOMI DREAMED SHE WAS ON OLYMPUS. The throne room was empty, which shouldn't have been a surprise—the gods were all off trying to slow down Typhon before he could reach this very room and tear it apart.

In the center of the space, visible from every throne, stood a brazier Naomi had never given much thought to. She'd seen it the two times she'd been on Olympus, of course, and felt its gentle warmth when she was close enough to it, but she hadn't paid it much mind besides reveling in its heat.

But now, it was all her dream-mind could seem to focus on.

I will give you victory beyond your dreams, a voice whispered into Naomi's mind, ancient and knowing. She flinched at the sound of it. Snuff the flames of Olympus. Bring these haughty gods to their knees.

"No," Naomi whispered, but her feet brought her to the brazier against her own will. Shadows followed her feet, like smoke billowing along a ceiling, or mist on the ground in the early morning. It spread out in front of her, tendrils of it reaching toward the brazier, toward the fire within it.

It is your destiny, the voice murmured. Let the Olympians fall. Their time has long since past.

"No!" Naomi tried to fight her own limbs, but before she knew it, she was standing right in front of the brazier, once more reveling in its warmth.

She didn't want to snuff these flames out; they were too welcoming. They made her feel at home in a way she rarely felt, even at Camp Half-Blood, even with the people she loved. They made her feel content.

The Olympians have wished time and time again for your death, the voice whispered, but now it sounded more like a serpent's hiss. They killed your father. They tried to kill you. These are the gods you wish to defend?

"Stop!" Naomi demanded, her voice shaking. "Stop it!"

If the gods do not fall, you will face horror beyond even the gods' worst nightmares, the voice said. It sounded like a promise, not a threat. But you can save yourself that pain. You can prevent the suffering in your future, the agony you will face in defense of Olympus. Make the right choice. Claim victory for the Titans.

"You're insane!" Naomi shouted. "I'm not fighting for the Titans!"

Not even to save those you love most?

In the flames, an image came to life. Percy, his eyes lifeless, his body still. Annabeth was laying beside him, just as still—just as dead.

Naomi choked on a sob. "No."

You can prevent this, the voice promised. Pledge your allegiance to Kronos. Damn the gods, just as they have damned their children.

Naomi shook her head. "You—you're trying to trick me."

No, darling, the voice murmured. I would never trick you.

"Who are you?" Naomi demanded. "Why are you showing me this?"

To remind you of all you have to lose. Perseus and Annabeth do not have to die in this war. You can save them.

"You're lying," Naomi croaked.

I swear on the River Styx, the voice murmured. The marble floor beneath Naomi's feet shook. Or was that just her? If you pledge your allegiance to the Titans, Perseus and Annabeth will live.

"No," Naomi whispered. But she could feel it, could feel the power of that oath even in a dream.

If she fought for Kronos, Percy and Annabeth would live.