𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒, apollo

𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐱. near death thoughts

WE STOOD IN THE shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS. Underneath, stencilled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece. I swallowed, okay this was happening.

My heart was beating a hundred beats over a minute and I had stuffed my hands in my pockets, hoping to ignore the fact that they were slightly shaking.

"You guys remember the plan?" Percy asked.

"The plan." Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan." Annabeth mumbled, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Cy shrugged and Annabeth sighed, "Right. We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negatively."

I bit my lip, I was so not ready for this. "Gett?" I turned to look at Grover who spoke my name. "You okay?" He asked. I didn't meet anyone's eyes as I shrugged, "I'm fine." I felt someone put a hand on my shoulder, it was Percy.

"We'll get through this. Together."

I smiled up at him, "Yeah, we will."

We walked inside the DOA lobby. Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel grey. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator.

Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies. Also, I couldn't feel them. In camp, I realised that me associating people with colours and feelings wasn't something everyone did. No apparently, I could connect to people's auras.

And in this room, the only ones I felt around me were Percy's light blue one, Grover's emerald one, and Annabeth's golden one.

When I snapped out of my thoughts, we neared the security guard's desk. It was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and agile, with chocolate-coloured skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore black shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

I read the tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?" Percy asked, his tone matching my thoughts. The guard leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet, cold, and familiar. "What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent — British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no," Cy stammered.

"Sir," The man added smoothly. "Sir," My friend repeated as the man in front of us pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters, "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," Percy repeated. "Well done," He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horseman. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?" His question caught me off guard and left me momentarily stunned.

I turned to look at Annabeth for support. "We want to go to the Underworld," She said. Charon's mouth twitched, "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked. "Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'"