The Spirits of the Universe (PJO)

Chapter 1-I Meet my Inner Demons--EDITED

When I woke up from my latest nightmare, the last thing I expected was to be mentally haunted. Fun.

I was in that dark place in my mind. Where dreams were shreds of reality, each one stabbing slowly and deep into my body.

Opening new wounds and refusing to let others close.

I wish I were joking—and this was one huge practical joke after the Stoll twins made me inhale a gallon of whipped cream on Waffle Wednesday. But no.

I flailed and thrashed, trying to get out of the grip of the dark fog.

But it was no use.

Every time I writhed, the fog tightened.

Suffocating.

Blinding.

Dragging me down to a point of no return.

But then . . .

"Perseus."

The unfamiliar female voice seemed to strip me of the dark, long chains and slowly lifted me up, up, up.

The fog retreated. But not before surrounding me one last time. 

In Tartarus' voice.

See you next time, he said. 

I couldn't handle it anymore. I lunged towards the burning light of reality and found myself staring at the ceiling of the Poseidon cabin. I trailed a shaky hand through my sweat-soaked hair.

Ever since the second time I fell into Tartarus, sleepless nights became a reality—even more so than what a normal demigod would get.

Yay me.

And then there was the mysterious voice. Usually, I would be tortured in my sleep for quite a while, but someone evidently took pity on me.

By the way, you're welcome, the same woman said. 

"Who are you?" I asked out loud, quickly jumping to my feet and scanning the cabin. 

I'm in your head, you idiotic son of Poseidon.

Don't talk to the poor boy like that, End, a male voice reprimanded before I could respond. Can't you see he's had a tough few weeks?

End scoffed. The 'poor' boy needs to toughen up.

You know that I'm right here, right? I asked in my mind, testing whether or not I could talk with the beings. Who are you guys—and more importantly, WHY ARE YOU IN MY HEAD?!

I'm Order, The man said in a friendly tone. And that's my sister, End. 

Or you both are just figments of my imagination. If I go to sleep again, I'll probably get fixed. Scratch that—more of you will just pop up.

Did you just call me a . . . figment of your imagination? End said in a dangerous tone. Is this the form of thanks I get after SAVING you from your worst nightmare?

She was probably talking about Tartarus, not the man of the bats.

I chided myself to focus. Stupid ADHD.

Thank you, I said genuinely. 

You're . . . welcome, she gruffly said after a moment of surprised silence. Maybe you're not so bad after all.

He's already growing on you? Order asked. It's been three minutes!

What about you? she challenged.