𝐂œ𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬é𝐬 [Percy Jackson]

57

Percy was not feeling the love despite listening to Lover.

Annabeth and Jason had come back from their trip to Hercules hours ago. Now they made their way across the ancient lands.

Bad enough he'd been run out of Atlanta by evil sea gods. Then he had failed to stop a giant shrimp attack on the Argo II. Then the ichthyocentaurs, Chiron's brothers, hadn't even wanted to meet him.

After all that, they had arrived at the Pillars of Hercules, and Percy had to stay aboard ship while Jason the Big Shot visited his half brother. Hercules, the most famous demigod of all time, and Percy didn't get to meet him either. Not that Percy was particularly fond of Hercules- he remembered Zoe Nightshade from his past quest, the huntress who had given Hercules the sword Percy now possessed. In the end, Hercules gave her no credit and abandoned her. However little time Percy had known her, he shared her sentiments about Hercules. In a way he was glad he didn't go, even if it made him feel useless. He wasn't even sure why he had volunteered on Annabeth's behalf, practically sidelining Hadrian.

Percy's thoughts about Hercules were further reaffirmed when Annabeth said afterward, Hercules was a jerk, but still... Percy was getting kind of tired of staying aboard ship and pacing the deck.

The open sea was supposed to be his territory. Percy was supposed to step up, take charge, and keep everybody safe. Instead, all the way across the Atlantic, he'd done pretty much nothing except make small talk with sharks and listen to Coach Hedge sing TV theme songs.

To make matters worse, Annabeth had been distant ever since they had left Charleston. She spent most of her time in her cabin, studying the bronze map she'd retrieved from Fort Sumter, or looking up information on Daedalus's laptop.

Whenever Percy stopped by to see her, she was so lost in thought that the conversation went something like this:

Percy: "Hey, how's it going?"

Annabeth: "Uh, no thanks."

Percy: "Okay... have you eaten anything today?"

Annabeth: "I think Leo is on duty. Ask him."

Percy: "So, my hair is on fire."

Annabeth: "Okay. In a while."

Percy hoped the ancient lands wouldn't be as bad as they'd heard. But it was almost like a commercial: You'll notice the difference immediately!

Several times an hour, something attacked the ship.

Percy had asked to bring Hadrian's record player on the deck, and the brunet had grumbled "Why the fuck not"

So, The Man played in the background as a flock of flesh-eating Stymphalian birds swooped out of the night sky. Annabeth sang the lyrics as she made them burst into monster dust with her dagger whenever they got too close.

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince played as storm spirits swirled around the mast, and Jason blasted them with lightning and Hadrian shot them with his bow. Hadrian was seriously skilled with that bronze weapon.

For some reason, it felt familiar, especially once when Hadrian's hair had turned red. But Percy waved it away. He still felt embarrassed for not letting Hadrian go with Jason.

While Coach Hedge was having dinner on the foredeck, You need to calm down played in the background, a wild Pegasus appeared from nowhere, stampeded over the coach's enchiladas, and flew off again, leaving cheesy hoof prints all across the deck.

"You need to calm down!" the coach demanded. "You're being too loud!"

The sight of the Pegasus made Percy wish Blackjack were here. He hadn't seen his friend in days. Tempest and Arion also hadn't shown themselves. Maybe they didn't want to venture into the Mediterranean. If so, Percy couldn't blame them.

Finally around midnight, after the ninth or tenth aerial attack, Jason turned to him. "How about you get some sleep? I'll keep blasting stuff out of the sky as long as I can. Then we can go by sea for a while, and you can take point."

Percy wanted to argue for some reason, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to sleep with the boat rocking through the clouds as it was shaken by angry wind spirits, but Jason's idea made sense. He went belowdecks and crashed on his bunk now that his sheets had been replaced.

For a second he was tempted to pour something on them again just for the excuse to spend more time with Hadrian. But eventually he drifted off.

His nightmares, of course, were anything but restful.

The floor shined like a mahogany piano—pure black and yet full of light. Black marble statues lined the walls. Percy didn't recognize the faces, but he knew he was looking at images of the Titans who'd ruled before the gods. At the end of the room, between two bronze braziers, was a dais. And on the dais, the golden sarcophagus.

He felt like he was fifteen again. He remembered that day like it was yesterday. He had been travelling with Annabeth, Rachel, Nico through the labyrinth. Why was he remembering that now?

The room was silent except for the crackle of the fires. Luke wasn't here. No guards. Nothing.

It was too easy, but he approached the dais. He remembered what had happened in real life- Ethan Nakamura pledging his life to Kronos, Rachel throwing a blue plastic hairbrush at the lord of the Titans... But this? This memory was fuzzy.

The sarcophagus was just like he remembered—about ten feet long, much too big for a human. It was carved with elaborate scenes of death and destruction, pictures of the gods being trodden under chariots, temples and famous world landmarks being smashed and burned. The whole coffin gave off an aura of extreme cold, like he was walking into a freezer. His breath began to steam.

He drew Riptide and took a little comfort from the familiar weight of the sword in his hand.

Percy stood over the coffin. The lid was decorated even more intricately than the sides—with scenes of carnage and power. In the middle was an inscription carved in letters even older than Greek, a language of magic. He couldn't read it, exactly, but he knew what it said: Kronos, lord of time.

Percy's hand touched the lid. His fingertips turned blue. Frost gathered on his sword. It was just as painful as touching a hot pan, he drew his hand back, afraid of getting burnt.

Then he heard noises behind him—voices approaching. It was now or never. He pushed back the golden lid and it fell to the floor with a huge WHOOOOM!

He lifted his sword, ready to strike. When he looked inside, this time he paid more attention to what he was seeing. Mortal legs, dressed in gray pants. A white T-shirt, hands folded over his stomach. One piece of his chest was missing—a clean black hole about the size of a bullet wound, right where his heart should've been. His eyes were closed. His skin was pale. Blond hair... and a scar running along the left side of his face.

The body in the coffin was Luke's.

He should have stabbed him right then. He should've brought the point of Riptide down with all his strength.

But he was too stunned. This was exactly how it had played out in real life, a few years ago. So why was this relevant now?

"Strange, isn't it?"

Percy swung his sword in an arc as he turned around. But there was no one there. Inside the fortress, sound seemed to echo. There was no telling where the voice had come from. Why did the voice sound familiar?

He scanned the sides, the walls, the hallways. Nothing. Absolutely no one.

"Who are you? Where are you?" Percy tried to sound more confident than he was.

"Taunts won't work, darling" He spoke softly, his voice mesmerizing, a soft accent to his words. Percy felt a light brush on his left arm. Just a feathery touch, fingertips barely touching. "Drop the sword, come on"

Percy dropped the sword.