The Third Camp Trilogy: The Chaotic End

Chapter fifteen: Carrie

Trudging forward, I kept my bow out, ready for any attack that could be coming my way. I wanted to speed up, knowing I had to get out of here, but I just couldn't. I was in so much pain, and I was still numb from the waist down. I couldn't move faster than a brisk trek through the cerise darkness, my path only illuminated by the fiery waters of the river I walked beside.

I watched my feet as they moved beneath me, across the filthy surface of the ground. Holes had been burned in the top of my shoes, as well as my jeans, from the sparks that flew off the river. I looked over my chest, where hundreds upon thousands of scars were in plain view. It would have taken a whole year just to name the section of my chest. My back has dozens of whip marks and stab cicatrices. All the slashes on my neck made it obvious that many people had tried to slit my throat. My shoulders and arms had countless marks that were... Mostly... not self induced.

I sighed heavily and looked out ahead of me at the unearthly landscape.

My back burned like... Well, the Phlegethon river. What had Hyperion written on my back? I could almost make out the words, the pain was acute in such a way.

It was something like a design. Ten words, one in the middle, three to the left, three to the right, and three on the bottom. But I couldn't tell what any of the words were... Just letters. The one in the middle started with an S... then there was something else... And an A... Then, after a few more, another S.

The others were closely written, so it made it more painful to try and decipher them. And all the scars that they overlapped, each one of those dozens, was lit up with pain once more, like a fresh wound, yet to heal over and create the scars that were already there.

I came to an abrupt stop where I stood. My ankle was caught, something gripping it. I turned to look down at a strange, slimy, hunched-over troll-like creature, examining my shoe. It had no neck, hardly any body. It was like a head with legs and arms, it's limbs thin as pencils and its hands the size of it's head, which was no bigger than a soccer ball. It's face was ugly and resembled a goblin from some weird book Neptuna or Grace would read, with a single tuft of filthy black hair on it's scalp.

I jerked my foot away from it, trying to shake it off, but it clung to my jeans and I continued to shake my leg, trying to make it let go.

"Get off of me, you little thing..." I muttered, kicking my leg out.

It made a screeching noise and wrapped it's legs around my ankle.

"Fine, then." I snarled and planted my foot on the ground again.

Pulling back the string on my bow, I loaded an arrow and aimed it at the creature. It screeched again and fell off of my leg, scrambling away and into a grouping of rocks.

"Stupid little creatures," A voice hissed. "Those μικροί διάβολοι's. Too loud."

I spun around and looked at the titan before me.

"Siopilos?" I questioned him. "What is the titan of Silence doing here?"

"Shh..." Siopilos slowly put a finger to his own lips. "Your voice is too loud... You've got to learn how to be quiet... How to be silent."

Without warning, Siopilos dived forward and grabbed me by the throat, his strangely long and sharp nails digging into my neck.