Walk With the Shadows [ Percy Jackson OC ]

THIRTY-SEVEN | Alex

BLOOD CAKED ALEX'S FACE so that every time he pushed his hair away from his eyes, more of it stained his hands. Hardly a stranger to blood covered hands, he tried, and failed, to push away memories of his time with Luke.

Maybe it was the atmosphere. Surrounded by wandering ghosts, greying marshlands, and a black void for a sky, all he could think of was how many people he had put in the ground. His chest tightened. Only their three pairs of footsteps made any noise among the dead. He supposed he should be thankful that he'd killed more monsters than Half-Bloods.

Alex walked slightly behind Ophelia. She had a spring in her step, striding forward with a purpose he tried but failed to muster himself. Few times in his life had he failed to lead when necessary. Both times, Ophelia had stepped up for him. He owed her for it. Owed her more than maybe she realized.

Neither had wanted to escape Luke through the Labyrinth. But they'd seen no other choice. Alex still remembered the night they'd left so clearly. Ophelia had used her manipulation of Mist and shadow to conceal them when they snuck towards the Labyrinth entrance in the darkest hours before dawn. His heart had pounded so hard as they passed under the noses of two Laistrygonians, he'd been sure the monsters would sense them.

But they didn't. Alex wondered if Hermes had helped them that night. Hecate certainly hadn't. But of all the children in Kronos's army who entered the maze, the only other one to come out alive was also a child of Hermes.

Regardless, without Ophelia, Alex had no doubt he would've come out the other side as insane as Chris had. The instant he'd led her down the first corner, he'd lost his way. He remembered the musty stench of the long, dark corridors. At first it had looked like city sewers. Then it had changed, becoming closer to cavern walls.

It hadn't taken long for Ophelia to step into the role of leader. When she concentrated, Ophelia had been able to see through the illusions of the Labyrinth. She could control the Maze, and will it to go where she wished. Most times, anyways.

They had still run into problems. Any time they uncovered bodies of their friends in the dark corridors, Ophelia seemed to lose her grip on the Mist. This had never been more true than after they'd found the body of Tyrone Walker, the thirteen year old unclaimed boy who had wanted anything but to enter the Maze. He'd been the last to go in before Ophelia and Alex had made the decision to leave Luke.

Alex had found his cold body with an arrow in his neck. A pool of dried blood had stained the white sleeves of the boy's Arsenal soccer jersey. Beside him, Tyrone's sword in his abdomen, lay another boy of about the same age. A quiver of arrows lay just peeking out from behind his purple tee shirt.

As Ophelia had stood in silence, Alex had tried to work out what had happened. Some ten feet away lay a snapped bow; it must've broken before the unknown child had managed to land a hit on Tyrone. They probably scuffled. It must've ended with the unknown boy stabbing the arrow into Tyrone's neck.