NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

ninety five: the cursed.

"LEFT!" BROOKLYN DRAGGED Annabeth, swinging through the arai to clear a path. Brooklyn probably brought down a dozen curses on herself, but she didn't feel them right away, so she kept running. She could hear Percy's footsteps running behind her.

She could hear Percy's footsteps running behind her, so that was good. She wove between the trees, leading Annabeth at a full sprint despite her blindness.

She realized how much Annabeth trusted her to get her out of this. She couldn't let her down, yet how could she save her? And if she was permanently blind . . . nope. No thinking. Head empty.

Leathery wings beat the air above them. Angry hissing and the scuttling of clawed feet told Brooklyn the demons were at their backs.

Behind her, Brooklyn could hear trees falling, followed by the satisfying crunch of several dozen arai as they were smashed flat.

If a tree falls in the forest and crushes a demon, does the tree get cursed?

Whatever. That was Percy's problem. Brooklyn could feel the pain of multiple curses put on her — her arm was burning, barely able to hold up her club. Her face and chest hurt, though she couldn't discern what specifically was hurting.

Suddenly the darkness in front of them became thicker. Brooklyn realized what it meant just in time. She grabbed Annabeth right before they both charged off the side of the cliff, Percy nearly slamming into the two of them.

"What?" Annabeth cried. "What is it?"

"Cliff," Brooklyn gasped. "Big cliff."

"Which way, then?"

Brooklyn couldn't see how far the cliff dropped. It could be ten feet or a thousand. There was no telling what was at the bottom. They could jump and hope for the best, but she doubted "the best" ever happened in Tartarus.

So, two options: right or left, following the edge.

She was about to choose randomly when a winged demon descended in front of her, hovering over the void on her bat wings, just out of sword reach.

Did you have a nice walk? asked the collective voice, echoing all around them.

Brooklyn turned. The arai poured out of the woods, making a crescent around them. One grabbed her arm. She let out a yell of pain, swinging her club viciously. It connected with the monster with a sick crunch.

The demon dissolved, but Brooklyn found herself seeing a void, somewhat like the world she saw but not at the same time.

"Percy? Annabeth?" she called.

"I'm right here," Percy said, but he wasn't there.

"Guys?" Brooklyn looked around, but she couldn't see anything. "Where'd you go? Did you leave?"

"I didn't!" he said angrily. "What did you do to her?"

We did nothing, the demons said. Your beloved has unleashed a special curse — a bitter thought from someone you abandoned. You punished an innocent soul by leaving her in her solitude. Now her most hateful wish has come to pass: Brooklyn feels her despair. She, too, will perish alone and abandoned. And, of course, her mother left her a curse, too: to be abandoned in the void, never seeing the mortality ties that bind her to this world as they slowly crumble to dust.

"Guys?" Brooklyn outstretched her hands, walking uncertainly to find Percy or Annabeth.

"Who did I abandon?" Percy demanded. "I never—"

She tried following his voice, but it felt like he was miles away, and she was unable to get to him.

Then she heard him yelling in fury and his sword swinging, and it lasted for what felt like a long time until it stopped. Voices — Percy muttering, Annabeth screaming . . . was that Bob?