Maiden Grim | A Pjo Fanfic

Ch. 32: We Play The Game Show Of Death

Isra had never rode a roller coaster. However, if she had before, she'd imagine the after would feel very much similar to how she felt now. As if she were a wet towel wrung out and hung to dry, and the gentlest breeze could send her scattering to the wind. Her body felt numb, and her mind scraped bare and empty. All the energy inside of her was gone. She stared at nothing in particular in the distance. Barely even registering the sacred red cows grazing along the sprawling fields of grass.

There was a glass of water in her hands. Isra thought—remembered Annabeth had handed it to her. She tasted something metallic, like blood, and where she traced her tongue along the walls of her mouth, there was a gnawed off half-circle. She probably had bitten herself when she...passed out. There was a pounding at her temples. A sharp bruised bump at the back of her skull when she had fallen backward. And a rawness of her stinging eyes caused by an aching vulnerability in her chest.

In a word, she felt...exhausted. In every sense of the word, emotionally and physically.

"What happened?" Annabeth asked. "What did you see?"

Isra spared her a glance, glimpsed the worried furrow on her brow, and looked down at the water in its glass cup. It trembled ever so slightly when she tried to think back. There were things she could recall from her little stroll down memory lane, courtesy of Grandfather Time himself. The weird visions of the ionópolos and his small family. Of Calchas and his meeting with two of the most important figures in the Iliad. Then there was the strange man in that small village. His golden hair and golden eyes. Racing to home, engulfed by golden flame. And the ensuing mad dash through the woods afterward.

Anything else was a blur of emotion and color. Lost things that made up who she was once. Those lost memories had raced like river rapids across the forgotten striated parts of her mind, leaving behind a rocky silt of feeling. Whatever magic at fault was a barrier, a dam, against the ensuing flood. But what could surpass the power of a Titan—as raggedy as he might be?

Only another Titan, she thought, only a god. Only Hecate.

"Isra?" Grover stepped forward.

She blinked, snapped out of her thoughts. "I..." the single word came out scratchy. She cleared her throat. "It was...It was everything."

"Everything?" Nico said.

It was the second thing he had said to her all morning. The first being her name. He had hovered nervously, never too far from her, with a grimace like he was swallowing down lemon juice. So it surprised her to hear his voice. Something about it now sounded unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

Her eyes dragged back to the horizon, where the sun had risen higher. She nodded faintly.

"Everything," she echoed. "Like some sort of film. Visions and memories."

Percy sat down on the step down where she rested. "Memories. Do you mean you finally remember your past?"

She clenched her teeth together, hard enough for them to creak. Isra shook her head. "No. It's all gone now. Something, like a spell, pushed them back. M-Most of it, anyway."

"Then what do you remember?" Annabeth said.

The water inside the glass started spinning. Heat rose up her neck and suddenly the air felt stifling. Her friends' gazes on her itched against her skin. A little whirlpool swirled between her hands. Crack, and a small zig-zag appeared at the delicate rim. Isra quickly set the water aside and massaged her throbbing forehead.

"It—I can't talk about it." She couldn't keep the barely leashed emotion from her voice. She hated how more tears gathered in her eyes. "I can't. Please. I'll tell you, just...don't ask. Not right now."