The Winds Of Heaven (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

39. The Earth Waits

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you'll like this chapter.
As I don't want to write everything that happens to Percy, I've done a kind of flashfoward thingy. So just to tell you what happened between the last chapter and this one, Percy, Frank and Hazel have met the goddess Iris, who helped them in their quest, healing Percy and telling them where to go: to find a seer named Phineas. Oh, and back on the boat Percy threatened killer wales with macrobiotic jerky.
I'm going to do one more chapter with Percy's POV for a moment I think is important in the book, and then we'll be up to Alaska.
See you next time, happy reading!

Y/N knew right away it was a dream.

He saw the giant warship Leo was building back at camp. Festus's figurehead glinted in the morning light. The riggings and armaments were complete, but something was wrong. A hatch in the deck was open, and smoke poured from some kind of engine. Leo was cursing as he pounded the engine with a wrench. Jason and Piper squatted next to him, watching with concern.

"You realize it's time," Piper said. "We're supposed to leave today."

"I know that!" Leo whacked the engine a few more times. "Could be the fizzrockets. Could be the samophlange. Could be Gaea messing with us again. I'm not sure!"

"How long?" Jason asked.

"Two, three days?"

"They may not have that long," Piper warned. She meant the Roman camp. They knew they were going to be attacked.

The scene shifted.

Y/N saw Tyson and Mrs. O'Leary roaming over the yellow hills of California. Tyson wore ragged jeans and a flannel shirt, and Mrs. O'Leary was the shambling mountain of black fur she'd always been, as big as a rhino. Tyson carried a massive club over his shoulder. He yelled Percy's name again and again.

"He smells farther away," he moaned to Mrs. O'Leary. "Why does he smell farther?"

"ROOF!" the hellhound barked, and Y/N's dream changed again.

He was back in New York, but the city was empty except for him. The cars were there, but no people, no birds, no rats. Nothing alive. He knew someone was waiting for him, though.

As he walked down Fifth Avenue, the buildings seemed to blur as they slid behind him. When he turned his head, they were all there, solid, but the indistinctness remained at the corners of his vision. It was as if only what he saw really existed, and then just while he was seeing. He was sure if he turned quickly enough he would see. . . . He wasn't sure what, but it made him uneasy, thinking about it.

The Empire State Building appeared in front of him. Somehow its lights seemed gray and lifeless. He went in. Ethan was there, at a table in the lobby.

He recognized his friend from his clothes, his banana sunhat and deep red suit. Ethan's skin was red, burned and cracked and oozing. His face was almost a skull, his lips shriveled to bare teeth and gums. As Ethan turned his head, some of his hair cracked off, powdering to soot when it hit his shoulder. His lidless eyes stared at Y/N.

"This is not you," Y/N said. He was surprised that he managed to keep his calm. That he wasn't afraid. Perhaps it was knowing that it was a dream.

"Maybe," came Tom's voice, "but he does look more dashing like this than the plant he's become. And he did give a good spectacle dying. That deserves some reward, don't you think?"

Y/N turned, and discovered he could be unnerved, even knowing it was a dream. Tom's clothes were the color of dried blood, and rage and hate and triumph battled on his face.