This Cold Year ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase²

―xiii. good last words

AFTER BURYING HERCULES IN FRUIT (don't ask) and flying frantically away from the fuming, pineapple-covered hero, the quest didn't get any easier.

The ship sailed by air for a few hundred miles. Naomi was naïve enough to hope the ancient lands weren't actually as bad as everyone said, but she quickly lost said hope.

Several times an hour, something attacked the ship. A flock of flesh-eating Stymphalian birds swooped out of the night sky, and Festus torched them. Storm spirits swirled around the mast, and Jason blasted them with lightning. While Coach Hedge was having dinner on the foredeck, a wild pegasus appeared from nowhere, stampeded over the coach's enchiladas, and flew off again, leaving cheesy hoof prints all across the deck.

Even in sleep, Naomi couldn't catch a break.

She'd never had a huge penchant for the freaky, prophetic demigod-dreams many got, but she wasn't immune to them. Tonight, she found herself in a darkness that felt somehow deeper than the darkness she had walked through years ago. Just the thought was deeply and wholly terrifying.

Before she could begin to wonder where she was or what she was doing there, she heard the voice.

My shadow.

Naomi's breath caught. "You," she whispered. "It's you."

Your shadow, the voice agreed.

"Who are you?" Naomi asked desperately. "What do you want with me?"

To aid you, the voice told her. To stop the Earth Mother and her deadly plans.

"What are they?" Naomi asked. "What does she want from me?"

I will not speak of it, the voice said. I will not let the Fates hear this whisper.

"Please," Naomi begged. "I need to know! I need to know how to keep it from happening!"

Stay out of her grasp, the voice told her, as if that wasn't the obvious plan of attack. If she cannot touch you, she cannot claim you. Your mother's domain will protect you as long as it can.

"Claim me?" Naomi echoed. "What does that mean?"

It was as if the voice hadn't even heard the question. Stand firm, even when hope is lost. Be brave, even when terror swells.

Darkness falls where the ancestor dwells, when hope is lost and terror swells.

"You know my prophecy," Naomi whispered. "H—how?"

I hear all that is whispered in the dark, the voice murmured. I see all that does not touch the light.

"Please, just—just tell me who you are," Naomi pleaded.

I am your shadow, and you are mine, the voice told her.

"I don't know what that means!" Naomi protested.

You will, the voice murmured. And I am truly sorry for it.

"Why are you sorry?" Naomi asked, more frightened than ever. Not of the voice itself, but the grief in its tone.