Last Shadow || Deception Book III

Chapter 4 Pt.I

Clarianna

"This was a horrible idea," I said aloud as we turned the street onto the dirt path. "Let's leave."

"It's a good idea, and let's not," Nico countered. He pushed me lightly as I stopped walking. "Don't chicken out, Rianna."

"I can't do this."

Nico ignored me and started pushing me towards the quaint home lying behind white, wooden fences. "Yes, you can. You've fought Ladon; you can talk with your father."

"Nico," I protested weakly as he shoved me forwards.

"If he suddenly dies tomorrow, you'll regret not listening to me today for the rest of your life."

"Wh-what?"

Nico shrugged. "Come on, Ri. Just go talk to him."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" I muttered dryly as Nico unlatched the gate and went in, beckoning me forwards. I took a deep breath and stepped beyond the white fence into my father's front yard, which was currently sparkling white with all the snow of a Canadian winter, a stark contrast to the colourful flowers that had been in bloom when I'd seen it in the prophecy.

"Of all the places I expected him to be, it was not northern Ontario on the shore of the Hudson Bay," I muttered. "It's so cold here."

"A Canadian who can't stand the cold," Nico said.

"Okay, first of all, I literally just found out I'm Canadian two weeks ago. Two, just because someone lives somewhere doesn't mean they have to like the weather. I know I certainly hated Olympus's weather of non-weather. Three—"

"That was a joke!"

I smiled slightly and patted him on the shoulder. "I know, I know."

Nico returned my smile, understanding, and gently nudged me forwards up the porch steps. "Up you go."

I shoved my hands into my coat, took a deep breath, and climbed the steps. My footsteps echoed hollowly on the wooden steps, sounding incredibly similar to someone walking up to a guillotine.

Suddenly, I was standing in front of an oak door, staring at a wreath of pine cones, spruce needles, evergreen boughs, and holly berries hanging on the door. A wave of panic suddenly swept over me and I took a step back. "I can't do this."

Instead of sighing, Nico reached out to grip my hands. "Clarianna. Look at me."

Nico's grip on my hands was cold, but I didn't pull away. I met his eyes, eyes that were far older than any eleven-year-old should be, and found nothing but sympathy in them. "You can do this." He paused. "If not for yourself, then just pretend it's part of your mission."

My mission. I nodded frantically, trying to put this into a different perspective. "Okay, okay, part of my mission." For the gods. Western civilization. The fate of the world. I had to do this. I braced myself and made a move to knock on the door.

My hand froze an inch from it and refused to make contact with the wood. Knock! I screamed in my head. But my hand refused to move.

This time, Nico did sigh. He yanked me back, stepped up, and knocked.

"W-" I started, but it was too late. I froze as footsteps sounded inside the house, gradually drawing closer, and desperately looked around for anything where I could hide. Before I could do anything, Nico's hand wrapped around my wrist. The time it took for me to break free of his grip was enough for the footsteps to halt in front of the door.

Never in my life had the squeak of a doorknob sounded so quiet yet so loud, so fast yet so slow.

The door swung open, revealing a man with dark brown hair and green eyes wearing a dark green t-shirt and a white apron with dried paint splatters.