The Eyes are the Mirror of the Soul

Prologue

This is a translation of my work from my native language, Hebrew | עברית (which you can find in my profile). Shoutout to @tamami and @-LeiLa_ for the huge help with the translation of this chapter!

Also, this fanfic has a playlist! Check it out on YouTube or Spotify, under the name "the eyes are the mirror of the soul" (no caps). Links in the comments.

Enjoy! :)

~ KiSierra

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Farewell, I've gone to take my throne above

But don't weep for me

'Cause this will be

The labor of my love

- Warriors, Imagine Dragons

Percy woke up slowly, so very slowly.

It took some time until his body regained sensation. The feeling in his neck was the first to return, that in his feet the last. His head was pounding. His lungs were burning. He felt as if he was breathing acid.

It was eerily similar to how being in Tartarus affected him - only this time there wasn't a fire-water river nearby.

He straightened up slowly, so very slowly. Blinked over and over. He was in a dark room, a cell with a grille door and almost no light at all. Only a faint green glow that he knew he himself was the source of. The glow illuminated mainly the places he looked at, but the difference it made was small. Most of the light wafted in the cold air around him and left him in the dark, trying to figure out his surroundings.

Scents of metal and mold. A bathroom-sized cell, twice as long as it was wide. A rusty toilet in its deepest, darkest corner. Dull pain in his bones, everywhere.

He looked out through the door of bars. It took him a full moment to notice the pair of gray eyes in the dark, looking straight at him from the other side.

Watching him.

White-hot pain gripped his chest. Gray eyes. Oh, how he'd missed his gray eyes; how much he would've given to be with her right now.

He sat up with effort and crawled closer to the cell's front, closer to the bars. His head was swimming. The gray eyes did not blink, and neither did he.

They stayed like this for a while. Long minutes passed and they kept looking at each other, unmoving, barely blinking. Percy managed to make out a face around the eyes, a straight nose and slim lips, male. He wasn't sure if the hair was brown or ginger. He noticed the eyes were paler than Annabeth's, not as vibrant as hers.

He ached.

Eventually the gray-eyed man leaned back. "Congratulations. You succeeded in breaking down the unbreakable," he said quietly, his accent distinctly British. He didn't seem very old.

Percy didn't react, didn't let the disappointment he was feeling show on his face. He wished he wouldn't have succeeded. He wished they would have stopped him in time.

"Why did you do it?" the gray-eyed man asked. Percy didn't respond.

"Who sent you?" the interrogator tried again. Percy licked his chapped lips. He said nothing.