The Half-Blood Project

30- Whispers and Faults

Percy Jackson

Once I swipe through the Iris Message, I leave. 

My feet hit the grass and sand that mixes in with the dirt and mud, my boots are covered with the stuff by the time I dive off the cracked dock and into the watery depths below. It cools the anger that floats freely in my chest. 

Water has been my only savior since Mom died. When she left the world, it was much colder, I saw the harsh reality that Gabe pushed me into. Gabe smacked me in the face with anger and grief so hard, I had to smack back before it killed me. 

Gabe is dead. 

Thank the gods. 

Water saved me. 

But can it save me from the inevitable future? Am I supposed to save or preserve Olympus? What is it going to be? 

Do the gods deserve to be preserved after killing thousands of demigods, swearing not to bear anymore, and then breaking the oath and rejecting the children? If they hadn't rejected Luke, would he be a mass murderer, started a racist genocide against all who opposed him? He divided us. Made us turn against each other. 

Will the cool depth of the ocean and the calm feel of the waves on my back be enough to seize the rising rage in my chest? 

At this point, I don't exactly know. 

I settle into the water, close my eyes, and let the dark take over too because if I don't, I have no idea what I'll do with myself. 

The dream starts to be normal, surrounded by total, eclipsing darkness that shrouds every bit of light that dares to penetrate the thick shield of shadows. I can't even see the outline of my hands or legs in the dark. 

But then I appear in the tunnels. Low and overhead, bricks that are old and the ceiling dips low, I have to duck my head as I walk through, watching the light ahead, mesmerized. 

It takes me a few minutes to get to the light ahead, it's harsh and reddish, like the inside of a feverish hell. 

And when I do, I wish I hadn't reached it. 

The reddish hell has only one, one thing in it. A golden casket. It's huge, intricate, and filled with breathtaking design, pictures carved into the side. But chunks are missing, part of the bottom is missing, a few holes gape in the cover of the bright casket.

Stepping over towards I peer inside hoping to get a simple glimpse if anyone's in it. But it's empty. 

"You!" A girlish voice shrieks from behind me, I whirl around, reaching for Riptide, but this is a dream and I can't die, right? 

The girl has red hair and bright green eyes, freckles splattered over her face and she's gripping a canvas paint bag that is stained with neon colors. Her eyes are wide like she's seen me before. 

I can't speak, I can only look at her with curiosity. 

"You're him. I've seen you, a hundred times. And the girl, the blonde, the boy with hairy pants too." She points at me, and I feel like I'm in a spotlight, everyone looking at me like I'm something new to the fish tank. I don't want to be in a fish tank. 

She steps closer and I step back. Who is this girl? She seems to be normal, unlike me. Is she some sort of Mortal who can see through the line as my mother could? 

"You're him." She repeats. "You're not the hero though. The other one is. The other one. Who are you?" 

I can't speak or respond. All I can do is stare at her as she stares at me and I want to jump out of my skin. Who is she? And what does she mean by that I'm not the hero? Is she talking about Annabeth or even Jason? Who?