The Trigods - A Heroes of Olympus Fan Fiction

Prologue

Prologue

“Before you understand our mission, you must first understand me.”

    The dark seemed to glisten with blue reflections of the puddles of water near the entrance of the cell. It shone on the sand ceilings and shell-covered walls. Water dripped down from the sand stalagmites that hung on the roof of the cell, and the droplets fell onto the puddles, only adding on to the shimmering.

    The smell of salt and must hung thick in the air, with the occasional whiff of blood. The scent never left, it lingered in the air like an evil thought that you never stopped thinking about. Once you thought it was gone, it came back, and hit harder than the first time.

    But the smell was never the worst part. The worst part was the cell itself. It was made of hardened sand, like everything else in the prison. The sand scraped against your skin in the worst way, and agitated you until you desperately needed to itch, but you couldn’t. All embedded in the sand was the occasional seashell. Some of them were sharpened to jagged points, and if you moved the wrong way, your skin would get cut, and the sand would get in it. On the far end of the cell, where the bars. They were made of giant, thin seashells, and although they were pretty, they symbolized your eternal imprisonment…if you made it that long.

    The prison itself was built the same way as the cell. It was made of hardened and sculpted sand. There were two hallways where they kept the prisoners. There were twelve cells in each hallway, but most of them remained empty. This was where powerful enemies - or the occasional poor passersby who just so happened to trespass - were kept. Most of the passerby’s did not last, so it was mostly just enemies.

    In another hallway, the prison guards (telekhines and sand-bourne)  had their own housings, diner, and entertainment center. Then if you took a staircase down, that was the torture/execution chamber. If you took a staircase up, you were in the warden’s housing. One final staircase lead you to the beach where the prison was buried.

    You would think this was just some random prison, but no. This was an immortal prison. It didn’t matter if you were immortal when you entered. Just as long as you never set foot outside, you could live in that prison for an eternity….against your will. That was how most of the prisoners were. They never knew what they did to spend lifetimes in a cell. That was what was going through one particular prisoner’s head every day.

    The prisoner was kept in a maximum-security cell in one of the far, far hallways. She was being kept in the very last cell, and her wrists were chained to the ceiling. She could never figure out why she was being kept there. Heck, she could barely figure out her own name. She had been in that cell for so long, that memories were beginning to fade from her mind. She didn’t even mind. All she could think of from when she woke up to when she fell asleep was: How can I get out? She had made plans, but they all failed. And it had gotten to the point where she was too weak to fight, or to try to escape. She was saving her energy for when she needed it. She didn’t know when, but she knew it would happen eventually. She would know a chance to escape when she saw it.

    The prisoner’s hands hung limp from her shackles. She stared at the ground, at all of the multi colored specks of sand just gazing at her. Her long dark blonde hair fell around her face, some of the strands were touching the floor. The prisoner wore old army fatigues. The sleeves were ripped off, and there were holes everywhere. The pant legs near her calves and knees were so worn out that they were nothing but strings. She couldn’t remember where she had gotten the fatigues, or if she was even old enough to be in the army. All she knew was that they were comfy, so she didn’t mind them, and she didn’t even care that they were old and decrepit. Just as long as there was something keeping her the slightest bit warm in this cold, damp cell, she was fine with it.