Book 1: The four tainted minds

A reunion and a capture

I figure, out of everyone, Reyna is the one character other than Leo that would know the names of ship-parts. Also, fun fact, Spanish is actually pretty close to Greek phonetically speaking, and also half the words we use day to day in my Spanish speaking country are in fact Greek.

Ρέινα

For every tale of a quest shared across the dinning pavilion, there's always a seed of doubt in those who listen. Regardless of whatever experience they have on their own, and even after last year's events, that characteristic, that doubt, remains.

Hence, if anyone had even tried to tell her, just yesterday, that she would watch the clouds be parted by a keel and then further by the hull of a flying ship, she would've thought 'crazy' sooner than 'prophecy'. Mainly, because boats were not made for flying, but this one flew regardless.

It's an imposing sight, a hulking mass hovering atop New Rome as though it were underwater, completely silent. And it's a beautiful too, in that sharp way only war machines can be, in that it's deadly.

Two figures descend from the ship, one is a lean and clearly well-trained figure with long blond hair tied into a ponytail, the other is someone she knows terribly well. She's struck with doubt, even as she watches Percy reunite with whom can only be the Annabeth he talked so much about, because she doesn't know if her best friend would know her.

But Jason's eyes find her, and she watches with an overwhelming relief as his features soften into a grin and he rushes at her. She meets him halfway without thinking much of it, relishing in how he squeezes her with a broken laugh.

He pulls away first, still grinning, and after a quick check, peers over her, trying to find more familiar faces. She lets out a huff, pushing him towards his cohort, who receive him just as, if not more, warmly as she had.

Sound comes from the ship, first a metallic clinking followed by the impressive front rear guns turning in place, then a series of thuds that speak of a battle. She exchanges a look with Percy and Annabeth, and all three of them rush aboard.

What they find is a single body on the floor of the deck, just a few paces away from the controls, spouts of flames coming out of as they wriggle. At one moment, the demi gets on their knees and looks up, one eye seemingly glazed over, as though unseeing, the other glowing yellow.

"Leo," calls Annabeth as she approaches, "can you fight it?" she questions

The demi, Leo, pants, holding his head in clear pain.

"Barely," they admit, "you might wanna tie me up."

Annabeth nods and moves into the ship to look for a restraint, Reyna makes her own approach.

"What are you fighting?" she asks

The demi groans, veins glowing for moment and hair becoming aflame.

"Eidolon," they manage to say, "gonna need an exorcist"

She nods, turning to Percy, who immediately nods and moves closer, Reyna moves back to land, looking for Hazel. She figures, giving what the demi said, that this is a spirit of some sort, so a child of Pluto would be their best bet.

Νικο

Imagine a maze made out of kaleidoscopes, and splash across their pattern every grotesque thought or sight known to man, multiplied by the illusions caused by an exhausted mind. And then imagine you escape it only to find yourself inches away from a river made from every insult you've been given and mistake you've ever made, being blasted full volume back at you in a bid to coax you under.

The end the Cocytus offers is much kinder than whatever else the pit still has for him, and yet he knows better than to heed its siren call. There's too much unfinished in the surface for him to give up here.

But his luck has ran short.

He feels them far more acutely than he felt her, despite how the danger they pose pales in comparison. And he knows, with unequivocable certainty, that once they catch up, he'll meet his end.

It'd be a lie to say he doesn't consider running, prolonging his survival just that smidge longer, but he's quick to shove the notion, though he does make good distance from the river's shores. Instead, he turns to face them, raging and terrified in spades.

He fights, with every bit of energy still spare in his body, with whatever remains of his beaten mind.

He fights.

And he loses.

Of course, he loses.

Exhausted, and bloody, and outnumbered. He could've never won.

Death doesn't come.

Instead, he's shoved into a cramped ceramic that reeks overly sweet.

Because he's of use yet.