¹On This Spring Day.

006.

               "Briares," she said, looking at the Hundred-handed One, "what Percy means is that you could greatly help us. Annabeth's right, too—you know more about fighting Titans than any of us. You could really help. For your brothers. For Tyson. Being a bystander will only do more harm than good—for you and for us."

               She knew she was boarding on guilt-tripping by now, but she didn't know what else to say to Briares to convince him.

               She and Percy told the Hundred-handed One about everything—Luke's invasion plan, the Labyrinth entrance at Camp, Daedalus's workshop, and all the way to Kronos's golden coffin.

               But it didn't matter. Briares only shook his head.

               "I cannot, demigods. I do not have a finger gun to win this game." To prove his point, he made one hundred finger guns.

               "Maybe that's why monsters fade," Percy quipped. "Maybe it's not about what the mortals believe. Maybe it's because you give up on yourself."

               Briares pure brown eyes regarded the son of Poseidon. His face morphed into an expression Violet recognized—shame. Then he turned and trudged off down the corridor until he was lost in the shadows.

               Tyson sobbed.

               "It's okay." Grover hesitantly patted his shoulder, which must've taken all his courage.

               Tyson sneezed. "It is not okay, goat boy. He was my hero."

               Violet desperately wanted to make Tyson feel even the slightest bit better, but she couldn't come up with the right words. If only she had charmspeak. Silena was great at comforting people; she always knew the right words to say.

               The only thing she understood best in this situation was Briares. She understood he desire to run away. Hell—all Violet wanted to do was run away. Run away from Percy, from the Labyrinth, from the darkness, from her dreams.

               But she couldn't. She needed answers. That was the only way for her to control that bubbling darkness in her chest and get rid of it completely.

🌷

They made camp in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it could've been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fastened to the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, and Annabeth decided this was a good sign.

               "We must be close to Daedalus's workshop," she said. "Get some rest, everybody. We'll keep going in the morning."

               "How do we know when it's morning?" Grover asked.

               "Just rest," she insisted.

               Grover didn't need to be told twice. He pulled a heap of straw out of his pack, ate some of it, made a pillow out of the rest, and was snoring in no time. Violet laid down on her bedroll, slinging an arm over her eyes. She knew what was waiting for her if she went to sleep—nightmares of Elain Nevitt and Ms. Aarden, and visions of Nico summoning the dead—but yet, she didn't want to stay awake because she knew what would be waiting for her there—Percy.

               Aphrodite had been wrong. Violet didn't envy Percy. Not anymore, at least. She didn't want to be the half-blood on quests, she didn't want to be the half-blood people looked to for help, she just wanted to be a regular mortal who could go to school and come home to an easy life. But Violet couldn't image what she would be like any other way. It seemed so strange to think of herself as a regular mortal—with two regular mortal parents, maybe even younger siblings, and a regular mortal life to live until she died of old age peacefully.