FREE FALLING | percy jackson

v. breakfast rendezvous and sword fights

HANA LEUNG

That night, Hana had a dream. The strange thing about it though, was that it felt so real. It was like she had been plucked up from her bed and placed in some other location, but Hana couldn't tell where. She saw the dark shore of a river and wisps of fog that drifted across black water. The beach was strewn with jagged volcanic rock and there was a young boy squatted at the riverbank, tending to a fire. He looked younger than her brother Crew (who was only twelve) and to make things worse, this boy was all alone.

The fire burned blue, which was strange, and the boy was throwing little pieces of paper into the fire. Hana walked closer to the boy so she could see his face more clearly. He was an unnaturally pale boy, like his natural skin tone should've been darker but he hadn't been in sunlight for a while, and he had shaggy black hair that almost reached his shoulders. He had dark circles under his eyes that made him look like he hadn't gotten a blink of sleep in a very long time. He was wearing clothes that were a couple sizes too big. Hana's heart sank, he reminded her of people who lived on the streets of downtown Manhattan.

The dream felt so real that Hana wasn't sure if the boy would notice her if she got much closer. She already had gotten way closer than she was before. So, just to be safe, she stayed in the shadows, watching the scene in front of her.

The boy tossed another paper into the flames. They looked like some sort of trading card, but Hana couldn't tell what they were for. "Useless," he muttered. "I can't believe I ever liked this stuff."

"A childish game, master," another voice agreed, causing Hana to nearly jump out of her skin. The voice came from somewhere around the fire, but she couldn't see who was talking.

The boy stared across the river. On the far shore was black beach shrouded in haze. Hana had never seen any place like that.

"I've failed," the boy said, his voice sounded completely broken. Like he had officially lost all hope for whatever he had been doing. "There's no way to get her back."

The other voice didn't reply.

The boy turned toward it doubtfully. "Is there? Speak."

Something shimmered. At first Hana thought it was just the firelight, until she realized it was the form of a man—a wisp of blue smoke, a shadow. It was like a ghost.

"It has never been done," the ghost said. "But there may be a way."

"Tell me," The boy commanded. Hana didn't like the tone of his voice, it was completely opposite to the crestfallen boy, instead, he sounded more dangerous.

"An exchange," the ghost said. "A soul for a soul."

"I've offered!"

Hana was growing more concerned each second she overheard the conversation. The boy already offered the soul for a soul method? What the hell? Who does that?

"Not yours," the ghost said. "You cannot offer your father a soul he will eventually collect anyway. Nor will he be anxious for the death of his son. I mean a soul that should have died already. Someone who has cheated death."

The boy's face darkened. "Not that again. You're talking about murder."

Hana frowned and her mind whirled, were they not talking about murder the entire time? And this boy's father, he collects dead people? That meant he had to be a god of some sort. Her heart stopped. No, it couldn't be. Percy had told her that he and another girl, Thalia, were the only children of the Big Three.

"I'm talking about justice," the ghost said. "Vengeance."

"Those are not the same thing."

The ghost laughed dryly. "You will learn differently as you get older."