Sing, O Muse [Percy Jackson]

nine

CLARION raced down the dirt path, her fingers interlaced with the woman behind her. Their ragged breaths shook the leaves and the droplets that fell upon their tanned cheeks mixed with pinprick tears. A rattle shook the earth, and the woman's fingers slipped from hers as a snake slunk towards the dampened undergrowth. The birds in the trees stopped their songs to listen to Clarion's anguish and, as the world began to spin and the woman mouthed her final words, the daughter of Calliope awoke to the train grinding to a halt.

The last remnants of orange were fading from the horizon, and the clear sky seemed to laugh at her: she could only think of Fred's eyes ablaze with the reflection of the trashcan fire. Her dream was painfully realistic, but she knew it wasn't herself – she married Eurydice, and the two began to run from a shepherd who wanted to claim her. It was Clarion – Orpheus – who grabbed her hand and raced down the path; it was Orpheus who felt his newly wedded love slip from his fingers and helplessly watched the blush fade from her cheeks.

Ever since she was a child, her dreams felt frighteningly real. Countless mornings, she'd swing her legs under the table and wait for her father to finish cooking breakfast, filling the silence with vivid descriptions – her dancing with nymphs, her wielding blades, her riding on the back of dragons and saving countless people. As her imagination faded, so too did her urge to bear armor.

Never before had she been in someone else's body. It hadn't been until Eurydice called Orpheus's name and stretched her hand that Clarion recognized her new stature, though it was lithe and lanky, similar to her own. She waited out the tragedy, allowing her mind to move of its own accord; she danced with the dark-haired nymph and tried to forget she wouldn't see the sun set beneath the trees. The pure adoration – an odd feeling in Clarion's chest – would soon twist into despair.

Orpheus's story was well known; after losing his love he wandered aimlessly and sang so sorrowfully that all the animals followed him, entranced by his longing. He traveled to the underworld and played a tune so haunting that the king of the dead wept and allowed him to reunite with Eurydice, so long as he took Hades' word and kept his gaze forward as he returned to the realm of the living. So close he could feel the warmth of the sun, he peeked over his shoulder and glimpsed his wife one last time, before she returned to the Underworld.

Her brother felt distant, before. He was a legend, the musician of all musicians. Even for Clarion, who upheld the tradition of epic poetry, he felt just as distant as the heroes of myth. But last night, she was her brother: she felt his glee, his love, his loss and pain. Tears still welled in her eyes from sleep, and she wiped them away to push the dream from her mind.

Percy snored beside her, and it was when she moved to shake him that she noticed the small golden bracelet on the dashboard; it was a simple chain with a small golden charm of an aulos - a double flute. She wouldn't have taken it if her hand didn't trace towards it magnetically, or if she didn't recognize the charm as a symbol of Euterpe, muse of music and song.

Clarion slipped it into her pocket and gently shook Percy's calf. He snored loudly enough to shake the car and it took several hesitant pokes to wake him. "Percy – wake up! They should call you the Earthshaker instead of your dad."

"Wha –?" Percy stretched and rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to crack his neck.

"Oh, nothing," Clarion shoved her notebook into her backpack. "Come on, let's go."

Clarion's nostrils stung from the brittle air of the ski-town they made their way through, and her breath came out in puffy clouds. She entertained herself by watching them dissipate in the sun; the only sign of life was their group, tentatively navigating the streets. Snow floated in the wind and dusted the roofs, few and far between, and icicles dangled dangerously from awnings.