▃▃▃ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴏꜰ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ ꜰᴏᴏʟ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴇ ɪꜱ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀᴅ-ᴊ ɪʀᴏɴ ᴡᴏʀᴅ
▃▃ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 1 ▃▃ In which the only daughter of Persephone sneaks on a quest to see the world for the first time since she's been at camp. The daughter of wisdom...
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𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑ ‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑
They'd barely made it a few feet into the Labyrinth before they were completely lost.
It looked nothing like the passage Elara remembered. The tunnel had warped into something round, almost like a sewer—its walls made of damp red brick, interrupted every ten feet by rusted, iron-barred portholes that leaked stale air.
Her flashlight beam cut through the dark ahead, the only steady thing in this place. Tyson clung to her free hand like a lifeline, his big fingers warm in hers. She didn't mind. He was one of the few she could still be soft with.
Annabeth led the group, all of them moving with nervous urgency. They were more determined than ever to find Nico—and Elara most of all.
She didn't care if she had to drag that kid out kicking and screaming. Nico was going home. Period.
"We should follow the left wall," Annabeth suggested, voice steady in the dark. "If we keep one hand on it, we'll be able to backtrack the same way if we need to."
But the Labyrinth had other plans.
Before they could take more than a few steps, the left wall vanished.
They stumbled into a circular chamber with eight tunnels branching out like the spokes of a wheel—and not one of them looked familiar.
"Um... which way did we come in?" Grover asked, already sounding breathless.
"Just turn around," Annabeth said.
They all did. Every single one of them faced a different tunnel.
It would've been funny if it weren't terrifying.
"Left walls are mean," Tyson pouted, gripping Elara's hand tighter. "Which way is out?"
Annabeth swept her light across the tunnel mouths. Every archway looked exactly the same.
"That way," she said finally, pointing.
"How do you know?" Percy asked.
"Deductive reasoning."
"So... guessing."
"Oh my Hades," Elara muttered, half under her breath.
She hadn't said much since they'd entered the Labyrinth—hadn't needed to. The flashlight clutched to her chest was doing most of the talking for her, its beam steady and sharp like a warning.
She kept having to breathe slowly, in through her nose, out through her mouth—trying to ignore Grover practically hyperventilating behind her.
The tunnel they chose narrowed quickly. Red brick gave way to gray concrete, the ceiling drooping so low they had to hunch. It felt like the walls were pressing in, inch by inch.
