The Spirits of the Universe (PJO)

Chapter 43--A Familiar Face

Everything happened in slow motion. Below all of us, the metal supporting poles groaned underneath the weight of the horses—and then they snapped. People screamed all around me, but it was too late. 

The stands sunk in the middle, causing dozens of us to plummet from a height that would result in broken bones and concussions. The top came next, crumpling backward. I was launched into the air like a stone from a catapult. The sun was above me, then below, and then above again. I must've tumbled several times before slamming into the side of a metal bench that stretched vertically toward the sky, as if asking the heavens for help. My ribs are definitely bruised.

Fortunately, this impact slowed my fall from fatal to . . . er . . . half fatal. I landed awkwardly in the grass, my shoulder popping out of its socket with a loud sound. Pieces of the stands rained down all around me—as well as people. I did my best to curl into a ball, but I couldn't protect myself from everything. A sharp plank of metal as long as my arm stabbed into the grass only inches from my skull.  A man plummeted onto my leg, almost breaking it. One woman landed right on my stomach, her elbow jabbing into my solar plexus painfully. Just a little bit more. Hang in there, Percy—or whoever I am. 

It was definitely a weird feeling to experience pain as a spectator. Every injury caused me to wince in anticipation of the red-hot trauma that would flow through my veins. But nothing happened—it was all mental.  It was kind of like watching injuries play out in TV shows and movies—except in real life, there were no convenient cuts. I had to watch through all the suffering. With the amount of times I get injured, I'm surprised that End hasn't complained about this. 

Or maybe I just tune her out. That probably explained it.

Anyway, while my ADHD-addled brain took me down a long path constructed by my random thoughts, my body in the real world was shutting down. I wasn't used to this kind of stress on myself, and everything hurt—even breathing was difficult. My eyes slowly closed . . .

Where's my daughter?

My eyelids flew open. With the help of a million liters of adrenaline pumping through my veins, I dragged myself up to my feet and looked to my right.

Instead of being greeted by the sight of my child, I was only introduced to more chaos. The landing area for the rope was blocked by my sight by the wreckage of the stands. The horses were nowhere to be seen—they somehow escaped the stands before they collapsed. People were strewn everywhere, unmoving. I really hoped they weren't dead. Their belongings—clothes, snacks, and bags—were thrown all around. Looks like I'm the only one standing. 

That wasn't quite accurate. I heard a twig snap behind me. I spun around—only to find a sword swinging at my head. In my weakened state, I stood no chance.

The flat side of the blade bounced off my skull, and I immediately went down, seeing stars. Before everything went black, I found myself staring at the shoes of at least a dozen humans, thinking, please don't let them find my daughter.

Then I passed out.

~~~

When I came to, my nose crinkled with an unfamiliar, unpleasant smell. 

Unfamiliar to my new body, maybe. However, to my mind, it was definitely the most familiar thing around: horse poop. I was elated.

Before I even opened my eyes, I knew I was in a barn—the barn in the middle of Mormolyce's racetrack. I was on my back, staring at the ceiling of the building. Unlike the old planks I'd been surrounded with the last time I was here, these materials were all new. The door of the stable I was in gleamed with no scratches, while even the straw around me seemed to itch less than normal.