Home Is Where The Heart(h) Is

Chapter 9: Darkness

Annabeth spluttered. "You captured Percy?"

The Giant's voice sounded jovial. "Indeed, and if you wish to see him returned unharmed, you will consider our generous offer carefully." The last word sounded almost like a hiss.

"No," Annabeth said disbelievingly, "he wouldn't get captured. He's evaded capture from everyone, even the Titans."

"Ah, but we are not the Titans. We are much, much better, and smarter than them. While their plan to destroy Mount Olympus was admirable, it would not have done much. Their strategy is nothing compared to us."

Clytius' words rang in her ears. It was true, what he said. The Giants were indeed more powerful in all aspects. Mythology supported his claim. But Percy...would he get captured? Even if he did, he always had a way out, no matter what.

And she was going to take that leap of faith.

"What if I said no?" She challenged.

"Well, I would leave you unharmed, I swear on the Styx, but I assure you, your boyfriend's fate will not be so. And the next time we meet, Annabeth Chase, we will be shedding blood and ichor on the fields of war."

Annabeth took a deep breath. She believed that Percy would not be captured. No, not just believed. Trusted. Completely and utterly put faith in him, that everything the Giant said was a lie. That Percy would do what he always did, and what Annabeth always saw him do.

To save him, she must find the fire.

"I decline. Now, get out." She said with as much force as she could muster.

The Giant's body dissipated with a soft hiss of disapproval. "You have no idea what you have just done." Were Clytius' last words. She felt the immortal's presence leave the building.

Now, back to finding that fennel stalk.

~

"I can't see anything." Percy complained, speaking, and hopefully received by her, to Hecate. It was true. Hecate had plopped him straight down somewhere. Mist - he was not even sure if it was the magical Mist or mortal mist - hung in the air.

Hecate's voice echoed from above. "Just find the statue," she said. "The torches will guide you." And with that, her presence left the area.

Torches?

Just as the thought entered his mind, two flickering lights appeared out of nowhere, shining in the fog. They seemed to be waiting for him.

Percy took a step forward experimentally. In response, the torches moved forward with him. Drawing Riptide, Percy wandered forward in the fog. At first, Percy didn't understand the need for them. The torches weren't dispersing the fog nor helping his vision. The mist still clouded his eyes. But as he progressed, the torches cast shadows on trees Percy would have hit if not for them. He made a mental note to thank Hecate later.

Suddenly, Percy heard the sound of whistling arrows.

An arrow as long as his arm embedded itself in the oak behind him, missing his eyes by an inch.

~

Hestia never liked darkness. Being the goddess of the hearth, she always liked warmth and light, the comforting heat of the fireplace and the flickering flames within its depths. Darkness was unsettling, which was why she was always distressed in the day. Whenever Aphrodite controlled Aelia, her mind would seem to be locked inside a dark room, where nothing went in or out. She never got to see what Aelia was doing, or what time it was. But when she guided herself to the hearth every evening, the mental prison would be unlocked, and her mind would immediately jump to the situation.