JAWBREAKER

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣

"Remember back on the train, before the Arch, when I told you I had a bad dream? Well...I had another one. It was the voice from the pit," she winced, "and-and it wanted something. It wanted the bolt. And...it wanted you."

Percy was looking at her puzzled. "I don't understand."

She let out a harsh breath and tugged her hands through her hair. It was still glossy and straight from when she blow-dried it at the Lotus hotel, and for once her fingers slipped through easily without getting hung up in tangles.

"The voice made me an offer, Percy. It told me that if I brought you to it, that it would give me power. That I would oversee a great war. But, please, Percy, you have to know that I said no. I would never betray you. You're my friend."

Percy's eyes had gone far away, like he was remembering something. Then he looked back at her coldly. "How can I trust you?"

"What?" Warren said in shock. "You know that I—"

"No," he said. "Actually, Warren, I don't know. The last part of the prophecy, what the Oracle said? She told me I'd be betrayed by someone I called a friend."

Warren felt her face grow pale. Her hands shook and her heart beat fast.

"I promise," she swore. "I wouldn't. I didn't! If I was going to hand you over to some evil monster, why would I tell you, huh? And we don't even have the bolt! I don't want a war. I just want to go back home with you, with our friends."

"You don't want a war? All you care about is fighting!"

Warren was close to tears. "Please, Perce—"

"Don't call me that."

He walked forward and joined Annabeth and Grover, leaving her alone. So, so alone.

Warren walked with her hands wrapped tightly around her torso, sniffing back the tears that threatened to fall.

Her friends pointed out different tortures in the fields of punishment, and the beautiful homes in Elysium and the Ilse of the Blessed. The whole reason they became heroes, the chance at eternal happiness, was right in front of her and Warren could barely look away from her shoes.

As they were nearing a palace of glittering black obsidian, the sound of a Furies' screeches echoed through the air.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.

"We'll be okay." Percy tried to sound confident. He'd been rather quiet since his talk with Warren.

"Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance..."

"Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm.

Grover yelped. His sneakers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass.

"Grover," Annabeth chided. "Stop messing around."

"But I didn't—" He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away.

"Maia!" he yelled, but the magic word seemed to have no effect. "Maia, already! Nine-one-one! Help!"

Warren made a grab for Grover's hand, but too late. He was picking up speed, skidding downhill like a bobsled. They ran after him.

Annabeth shouted, "Untie the shoes!"

It was a smart idea, but it's not so easily executed when your shoes are pulling you along feet first at full speed. Grover tried to sit up, but he couldn't get close to the laces.