Run | TMR X PJO [ Editing ]

Thirty | Group B

Chapter thirty, in which suspicious things go down and Aris really, really shouldn't even be alive at this point—I call plot armor on this one!

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, but Aris' life seemed to flash before him in that moment at the same time. Aris turned his head, and there it was—that ugly Griever in all its stupid glory. He was too weak to raise his weapon, and he doubted that there was any charge left in it. The entire night of running around had drained both him and the laser gun. So there really wasn't anything that he could do but stand there and watch the thing leap at him.

Annabeth knew it was futile; there was no point in running to save Aris when death was already upon him. She was weaponless and weak. Even her voice wouldn't work. She had seen the thing far earlier than Aris had, and no amount of reflexes would save him now. The Griever moved surprisingly quietly, a feat considering how clunky and heavy it was.

However, this was the Glade we were talking about, and the impossible liked to happen at the most unexpected times. Instead of the sleek silver laser gun, Aris found himself holding a pair of twin torches. The flames were strangely purple, and they flickered eerily with a light fused with magic and heat. And the Griever froze mid-jump, unable to move despite being midair. He looked at the torches strangely, then at the Griever still suspended awkwardly. When one's life was in danger, one was willing to try anything.

He brandished the torches threateningly as he could at the metal spider. Some kind of dark magic radiated off of them, a dark smoke that engulfed it. The Griever let out an agonized squeal as it caught on fire. The flames were the same color as the torches. Midair, it squirmed and shrieked like a banshee, which only spread the flames faster. In minutes, it had burned to the ground and disintegrated into ashes shortly after. 

Aris awkwardly stumbled towards the Glade with the little energy he had left in him. If he could stay conscious for just another few minutes, he would be safe within the safety of the Glade. Annabeth would get help and they would be alright. However, the torches got heavier by the second, and they seemed to be dragging him into the pits of hell. Several times, he nearly tripped over his own feet from the sheer weight of them.

His vision was getting foggy.

His knees gave way the second he made it into the Glace. He felt a shadow fall upon him—Annabeth, no doubt. The twin torches fell out of his hands. And the last thing he registered before he passed out was strange symbols on the torches, in a language that he had never seen before. Stranger yet, the symbols made perfect sense to him.

Hecate.

They blazed for a second, forever seared into his mind. His vision turned black, and that was the last he knew for a few hours.

When he woke, the twin torches were nowhere in sight, but a stack of the laser guns lay on the table nearby—the same amount that they had stolen. The torches surely couldn't have been a hallucination, but he was sure that his gun had morphed into the torches. It was a lot on his brain, and he rubbed his temples in frustration. 

His eyes wandered around the familiar Homestead, and he ended up locking eyes with an angry Sonya. He gulped slightly, already wishing that he had passed out for a lot longer.

"Oh hey Sonya, didn't notice you there for a second..." Aris laughed nervously. She did not return his smile; her face had seemed to be permanently set into a deep scowl that could kill a man. 

"So Aris, what exactly happened out there?" she asked testily, on the verge of popping a vein. "For a moment, I thought you had some magic powers and actually set a Griever on fire!"

Her voice dripped with so much sarcasm that it was almost funny. But the thing was, it couldn't be funny because Sonya would've ripped his head off if he even made an attempt to laugh.

"Well, yeah, that's what happened!" he cried nervously doing his best to sound legitimate and convincing. "I'm telling you, I'm not so sure myself—"

Sonya's voice dropped to a dangerously calm tone that was even scarier than her sarcastic one. "And surely, while you were sleeping, I didn't witness the torches morph back into a laser gun! How odd!"

"I didn't do anything to it, I swear!"

"Then explain this," Sonya snarled with as much ferocity as a wildcat. She picked up the gun on the top of the pile and whipped it around. Now that he looked at it, the three guns had different markings on them—something that he found bizarre. When they had been stolen, they had all been the same silver color, no doubt.

The one Sonya had practically shoved in his face had deep maroon swirls and strange inscriptions on them. It was in a foreign language, something along the lines of Greek or Roman if he was correct. When he ran a finger across them, they lit up slightly before fading back into their original color. But the largest inscriptions by far were in the same strange language. Aris surprisingly found himself being able to read them.

They spelled out the word 'Hecate,' the same word that had been inscribed on the torches! Aris nearly dropped the gun, unable to comprehend. There was something both sinister and familiar and he didn't know how to put a finger on what exactly was bothering him.

Sonya had been strangely quiet and finally piped up. Her face was even paler than usual, and she almost didn't want to even touch Aris or the gun. "You see? There's just something so shady about them, and I don't think we can trust these." 

"What does Hecate mean? What does it even have to do with it?" He scooted back from the thing as far as the bed would allow.

She threw her hands up in the air. Lasers appeared to be shooting out of her eyes. "Gee, wouldn't I like to know!"

The entire conversation had practically been this sort of an exchange of sarcastic comments from Sonya and confused stuttering from Aris. Honestly, Aris was half ready to bolt out the door, bandages and all. But he held his ground—or at least tried to.

"Look, I really don't know what the shuck is going on, really!"

"Wow, and I totally know what's going on as well!"

Aris sighed in frustration. "Sarcasm isn't going to help this conversation, and you know it." 

She looked at the door. "Aye, you two come in. I need backup!"

And the door was swung open dramatically. None other than Kathy and Annabeth were there, the both of them beat up and bandaged, but still as murderous-looking as if they weren't injured. If Sonya was bad, he prayed for a swift and painless death by them. 

Kathy gave Aris a look of disgust. "Why won't you give us answers?"

"I don't have any for her!" he insisted, utterly confused.

"You will by the time we're done with you. You lasted too long for just an average shank."