The Black Coral (Percico/Pernico)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Survival of the Fittest

The water was dark and frigidly cold around Piper's body.

After ensuring her family's safety, she was slashed and clawed. It seemed she was bleeding from every crevice of her body. Her teeth, once sharpened, were stained with blood, and the taste of the coppery liquid lingered on her tongue, her vessel stained with guilt of murder of her own kind, of failure.

Assuming her dead, they had soon ceased their attacks on her and swam off with accomplished movements of their lithe tails, disappearing in the darkness of the waters.

The only light she could see was the moon, the brilliant beam of silver slicing through the dark waters. Through the narrow blade of light, she watched dark, swirling billows of her own blood rising towards the surface. She grinned complacently, knowing that the last sight that would ever bless her existence was this light that shone silver and angelic and saintly, like a heavenly ray of exoneration sent to purify her as her life seeped from her vessel. At least she would die like this, at sea, protecting her family from harm. While they did not receive what they came for, they still were safe. The treasure would be lost with her, and the map would erode from the saline water that she claimed as her grave.

Pain shot through her veins, but she attempted to ignore it. Instead, she closed her eyes and thought of peace, of the ones she loved. A sudden interruption of the light yanked her from her thoughts and her eyes snapped open. A dark shape passed over her, cutting through her divine remission. It was much larger than the ship she called home for over a year, but they would be the only ones that would be excused for this odious crime. While she would not care any other day, this one was her last. Her eyes narrowed, she held her most brutal wound with one hand and swam to the surface to inspect the intruder of her resting place.

The top-half of her face emerged from the chilly water, her brown hair darkened and flattened to the protrusions on her face as she observed this vessel. The wood shone silver and ghostly from the moon's celestial aura, and Piper thought it to be the ship that would lead her to her afterlife.

Upon further investigation, she concluded that it was not a ghostly ship, nor one that would condemn her. In fact, it seemed calm, yet bold. The confidence of the ship was undeniable, but it had an aura that drew her to it. She swam closer to touch it, to understand the people of this ship before her life ceased completely. The darkness was fading along the edges of her vision, but she kept pinching herself and shaking her daze off, determined to stay alive just a bit longer.

She heard voices shouting from overhead, muffled and unintelligible; they undoubtedly noticed her presence, as minute as it was. The last thing she could remember was a ladder being thrown haphazardly down the side of the ship before her vision faded completely.

When she woke, she was lying in a cot with heavy bandaging on her sides and her head. She felt at the roughspun material as she tried to sit up, but a flare of debilitating pain prevented her from doing so.

"I'll turn up like Nico, at this rate," she said to herself, jokingly.

Then, she remembered: the map! She patted her clothes, searching for the rolled-up, damp parchment, which was probably ruined, before she felt the protrusion at her side. She snatched it from her clothes—it had dried over the time she had been asleep—and opened it with sudden vigor: the ink was a bit smeared, but still legible. Annabeth would be able to fix it in a snap of her fingers. She grinned wildly to herself before she heard a door open. Her mind consumed by panic, she perfunctorily shoved the parchment in her clothes and waited for whomever came to visit her.

At first, it was a head peering around the corner, inspecting the room to see if the siren was awake and well. Upon seeing her, she dashed back up the stairs to tell the others of her consciousness.