𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

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MISERY

"until now"

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"until now"








ARIADNE WOKE STARING AT THE SHADOWS DANCING ACROSS THE HUT'S CEILING. She hadn't had a single dream. That was so unusual, she wasn't sure if she'd actually woken up.

As she lay there, Annabeth snored next to her—despite claiming she never did—and Small Bob purring on her belly, she heard Bob and Damasen deep in conversation.

"You haven't told them," Damasen said.

"No," Bob admitted. "They are already scared."

The giant grumbled. "They should be. And if you cannot guide them past Night?"

Damasen said Night like it was a proper name—an evil name.

"I have to," Bob said.

"Why?" Damasen wondered. "What have the demigods given you? They have erased your old self, everything you were. Titans and giants...we are meant to be the foes of the gods and their children. Are we not?"

"Then why did you heal the girl?"

Damasen exhaled. "I have been wondering that myself. Perhaps because the girl goaded me, or perhaps...I find these two demigods intriguing. They are resilient to have made it so far. That is admirable. Still, how can we help them any further? It is not our fate."

"Perhaps," Bob said uncomfortably. "But...do you like our fate?"

"What a question. Does anyone like his fate?"

"I liked being Bob," Bob murmured. "Before I started to remember..."

"Huh." There was a shuffling sound, as if Damasen was stuffing a leather bag.

"Damasen," the Titan asked, "do you remember the sun?"

The shuffling stopped. Ariadne heard the giant exhale through his nostrils. "Yes. It was yellow. When it touched the horizon, it turned the sky beautiful colors."

"I miss the sun," Bob said. "The stars, too. I would like to say hello to the stars again."

"Stars..." Damasen said the word as if he'd forgotten its meaning. "Yes. They made silver patterns in the night sky." He threw something to the floor with a thump. "Bah. This is useless talk. We cannot—"

In the distance, the Maeonian drakon roared.

Annabeth sat bolt upright. "What? What—where—what?"

"It's okay." Ariadne took her arm.

Damasen loomed over the bed. "There is no time, little mortals. The drakon is returning. I fear it's roar will draw the others—my brethren, hunting you. They will be here within minutes."

𝑮𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒓𝒆- 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧Where stories live. Discover now