Grover, Percy and Ciarda trudged along the ancient stone paths, filled with sharp jagged edges, before the landscape transformed into endless dunes of white sand like a vast, desolate ocean. "It's like ash," Ciarda felt the sand, its soft papery texture fooling her. She hoped, for her own comfort, that it wasn't the cremated of the Underworld.
The sun reemerged in the sky, casting a pale, grey-tinged light that made the demigods' skin appear corpse-like. A relentless wind whooshed around them, whipping the sand into swirling patterns. Grover stared back at the forest with firing nerves.
Silence enveloped the trio whilst they navigated the shifting sands and intense wind, each lost in the weight of their regrets. Grover's mind was particularly restless, haunted by memories of his high school days with Percy. He looked up to his best friend, noticing how Percy was focused on directing them correctly.
He then turned to Ciarda, who he then approached. "Hey Grove," She didn't look up at him, but forcefully kicked at the sand, sending grains flying in an arc.
"Hey. Do you think I'm weird?" Grover asked the question he'd been wrestling with for the better part of their walk in the ashen desert. Ciarda let out a small chuckle, causing Grover's breath to halt in anticipation. Gradually, her smile faded when she met his serious expression.
Grover sighed, realising too late that Ciarda La Rue didn't coddle anyone's insecurities. She was about as comforting as Dionysus' pet cactus. "Yeah, you are. But so what? Everyone's weird." And that was the nicest thing she had ever said.
"Oh," Grover couldn't help but smile as warmth spread in his chest.
...
"I haven't heard the dog in a while," Grover remarked, breaking the silence that had ensued while he looked back at the black forest once more. Ciarda muttered a fruitful curse, shimmying her feet to drain out the sand from Luke's old Converse. "He chased us all that way, and then just... stopped?" Percy turned in confusion.
"That's what I'm thinking. It's odd, don't you think?" Ciarda bumped in between the boys. She then began to walk ahead of them, the trek up the next dune feeling lighter. "Ciarda?" Grover called in mild bewilderment. Ciarda felt her pace subconsciously quickening. "Ci, where are you going?" Percy queried as she steered a sharp right.
The frantic wings on her shoes extended outwards, violently dragging her west. "I don't know—I can't stop!" Ciarda shouted back to her friends.
Without missing a beat, Percy and Grover took off after her, scrambling up the sandy slope using their hands for momentum. The mountain of sand slipped underfoot as they raced to keep up with the flying shoes. Roaring wind pushed back Ciarda's hair.
"Percy! It's the shoes!" She yelled in panic as the Converse pulled her downward aggressively. Sand bunched in her clothes, but as the shoes got faster, it was the least of her worries.
"CIARDA!" Percy clamoured, his heart pounding as he raced after her. He choked when they reached the top of the dune, both him and Grover staring in horror at the sight before them. Ciarda was being hauled toward a gaping black hole.
Desperately, she unsheathed her sword and stuck it in the ground, but it was only met with loose sand. Ciarda turned back to the approaching chasm and tried to scramble away in fear. The void seemed bottomless, a dark maw that pulsated with otherworldly energy.
"Stay here," Percy ordered Grover, not waiting for agreement before plunging down the slope after Ciarda. "PERCY!" She screamed, eyes wild and flaming as the edge of the pit grew closer. Her broken nails clawed pleadingly at the sand, but the bewitched shoes were persistent.
Percy threw himself down beside her, his hand gripping her muscular arm tightly. He pulled her up with everything in him, his feet slipping through the sand as they both slid downward. Grover's shouts grew fainter whilst they descended, the sand shifting like an avalanche around them.
"PERCIUS!" Ciarda shrieked, clutching his hand when her body jolted forward. As a last hope, Percy drew his sword, plunging it into the ground. It held against a buried rock just enough to bring them to a shuddering stop. Ciarda let out a shaky breath until the shoes maniacally lifted her into the air.
The wind howled around them, hurling stinging sand into their eyes and mouths. "Percy, let go." Percy, although brutally rained on by sand, opened his eyes. "No way," He declared, absolute in his stubbornness. He had yielded to Ciarda's commands before, but this was not something debatable. Not to him.
"This is it for me, Percy. This is my story - my prophecy. Go with Grover, get to Hades, get the bolt. You've got to finish the quest." But Percy shook his head, refusing to listen.
His grip tightened, even as Ciarda struggled against him. She flexed her scarred fingers, fighting his hold on her. "Let me go, Percy. It's the right thing to do."
Percy hooked his elbow around his sword, feeling the blade bite into his skin, warm blood trickling down his forearm, but he didn't care. With his new free hand, he held her even tighter. "I am not letting you die, La Rue."
The orange trainers suddenly shot off Ciarda's feet. They spun through the grey air before darting into the darkness. Ciarda dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. She groaned, sand seeping into her clothes.
Percy collapsed beside her, turning onto his back and tiredly wrapping his tattered flannel around his bleeding arm. Blood seeped through the fabric, but he barely registered the pain; his relief at seeing Ciarda alive eclipsed everything else.
Ciarda scrambled back from the edge of the depthless pit, breathing heavily. She closed her eyes, registering what she had nearly succumbed to. As she steadied herself, a soft metallic clank echoed from Percy's backpack. They traded glances.
"What was that?" Ciarda questioned, wiping sand from her tongue and coughing slightly. Percy unshouldered his bag and unzipped it to reveal a gleaming, golden lightning bolt.
Ciarda felt dizzy and sick. Her shaking hand went to her mouth. "Is this..." Percy started, looking at her, wide-eyed.
"No." Ciarda's voice was barely a whisper as she shook her head slowly, her face pale.
Percy hesitated, turning the bolt over in his hands. "But it looks like—"
"It absolutely is not," Ciarda turned to the side and threw up into the sand.
"That's the mast bolt." Grover's petrified voice sounded from above them. "How is it in your bag?"
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𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 | percy jackson
Adventure"do i look like i give a shit if he's poseidons son?" water from the fountain splashed into her face, dripping from the dark ends of her hair "the fact she's ares daughter means shit all to me" and soon enough percy jackson was scanning the room as...
