The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

64. That God Is A Real Weather Vane

At least Annabeth had a good night's sleep before going on the quest, right?

Wrong.

That night, her dreams took her to a round room with brick walls. Torches hanging from the walls lit the room. Even though this was a dream, she thought she could feel a cold breeze whipping through her. It must just be her imagination.

Y/N was sitting cross-legged against one of the walls, his sword resting on his lap, his head thrown back. You would have thought he was asleep, if not for his fingers occasionally clenching on the hilt of his sword and his eyelids sometimes opening wide. His orange camp shirt was stained, but she couldn't see with what—she tried to push away the idea that it might be his blood.

Y/N closed his eyes; then he sat up suddenly, like when you feel as if you're falling while sleeping.

Then footsteps came from one of the two hallways leading off the room. Y/N stood up. He weighed his sword, pushed aside the strands of hair that fell into his eyes, and took a deep breath.

A dracaena entered, undulating on the snake part of her body.

She licked her lips. "Hello."

Y/N lunged at her, his sword forward, as she showed her fangs.

Annabeth woke up with a start, her heart pounding.

Her brothers and sisters were tossing and snoring in their beds. She forced herself to listen to their breathing, to calm down. This wasn't normal. Once was too much, but two dreams like that with so little time between them. . . . Not normal at all.

It was a clear morning. The fog had burned off and the sky was blue. Campers would be having their lessons today, flying pegasi and practicing archery and scaling the lava wall. Meanwhile, she would be heading underground.

Juniper and Grover stood apart from the group. Juniper had been crying again, but she was trying to keep it together for Grover's sake. She kept fussing with his clothes, straightening his rasta cap and brushing goat fur off his shirt. Since they had no idea what they would encounter, he was dressed as a human, with the cap to hide his horns, and jeans, fake feet, and sneakers to hide his goat legs.

Chiron, Quintus, and Mrs. O'Leary stood with the other campers who'd come to wish them well, but there was too much activity for it to feel like a happy send-off. A couple of tents had been set up by the rocks for guard duty. Beckendorf and his siblings were working on a line of defensive spikes and trenches. Chiron had decided they needed to guard the Labyrinth exit at all times, just in case.

Annabeth checked on her supply pack one last time—her invisibility cap, her bronze knife, a canteen of nectar, and a bag of ambrosia. She also had a change of clothes, but she felt she wouldn't have any time to change.

She saw a couple of pairs of legs walking toward her. When she raised her eyes, she frowned. "Percy, you look terrible."

"He killed the water fountain last night," Tyson explained.

"What?" she asked.

Before Tyson could say more, Chiron trotted over. "Well, it appears you are ready!"

He tried to sound upbeat, but Annabeth could tell he was anxious.

At this moment, Ethan arrived. He had a somber look on his face that was totally unlike him. Even in the depths of the Underworld, up in the air hoisted by Scylla, or confronting Luke on top of Mount Tamalpais, he hadn't had this . . . depressed . . . expression. Panicked, he had been plenty of times. Depressed, this must be the first time.