The Blood of Olympus (Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 16: Hazel

Chapter 16: Hazel

 

            HAZEL WAS TIRED OF GOING UNDERGROUND.

            She knew her curse made her trips underground much easier, but she didn’t want to continually traveling beneath the earth. She didn’t have good experiences underground. After dying, nearly dying (again) with Percy, and venturing into the House of Hades… Well, she was starting to dislike the underground.

            Hecate had invaded Hazel’s dreams. The goddess had told her that the Athenians had constructed a smaller scale of the Necromanteion. Soon after it was finished, the ground collapsed, sending the temple beneath the earth.

            Now that centuries had passed, the earth was more stable. There was supposedly a statue of Socrates right above the temple. So Hazel was instructed to find the statue, and from there she would have to find her own way to Alcyoneus.

            After Leo went his separate way, Hazel stopped walking and turned around. She watched as Frank, Annabeth, and Piper go their own way. She desperately wished for one of them to turn around, to decide to help her… But they had their own giants to fight; they had their own battle to win.

            And Frank had two giants to fight. According to Percy and Jason, they were ridiculous. Frank had to beat them.

            Pushing the frantic thoughts aside, Hazel ducked her head and weaved through the thick crowd she was approaching. Athens was a busy city, always moving. She should have been used to it, having lived in New Orleans before. But that was ages ago, and this was a different crowd. The aura of people had changed greatly in the decades. The chaos in New Orleans had been wonderful. This crowd in Athens was just giving Hazel a headache.

            To be honest, she didn’t see why Athens was so swoon-worthy. All the buildings were practically smashed against each other, and the weather was awful. She felt like she was drowning in her own sweat. (It was disgusting.) If she was claustrophobic (which she slightly was), she would have had a panic attack already. She saw no beauty in this humid and crowded city.

            The thin passageway opened up, and there were huge buildings suddenly surrounding Hazel. Younger people were milling around, some with large bags. Others were clutching each other in tight embraces, looking sad. A few of them were speaking in fluent Greek, holding books and binders to their chest.

            In the center of the plaza, surrounded by the buildings, there was a large statue. It was carved beautifully from marble, which was as pale as the moon. The marble looked smooth, almost soft. It was of an older man sitting down in what looked like an uncomfortable chair. He donned a toga, his feet bare. He had a beard and a thoughtful look on his face, his hand resting beneath his chin. He was leaning forward, as if he were listening for a voice that wasn’t speaking.

            Behind him, on a tall and narrow pillar was another statue. This statue was smaller. This man wore a toga around his shoulders, though the rest of him was bare. Hazel found it hard to stare at the man himself, because she really didn’t like staring at a man’s groin. (Even though he was very high up and it was just a statue, Hazel was still uncomfortable.) She instead concentrated on the fact that he was holding a bow and arrow.