𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘆, percy jackson

003. left walls are mean

"How do you know?" Nova asked, feeling the nervousness, she had tried so hard to keep down, come bubbling up.

"Deductive reasoning."

"So ... you're guessing." Percy remarked.

"Just come on," she said, glaring at him.

The tunnel she'd chosen narrowed quickly. The walls turned to gray cement, and the ceiling got so low that pretty soon they were hunching over. Tyson was forced to crawl.

Just when the tunnel got so narrow that it nearly squished them, it opened into a huge room. The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were grimy and faded, but you could still make out the colors—red, blue, green, gold. The frieze showed the Olympian gods at a feast. Poseidon, with his trident, holding out grapes for Dionysus to turn into wine. Zeus was partying with satyrs, and Hermes was flying through the air on his winged sandals. The pictures were beautiful.

"What is this place?" Percy muttered, his voice sounded right next to Nova's ear, and she turned to find him standing extremely close to her.

He seemed to notice it too, cause he turned his head at the exact same moment to find their faces only centimetres apart. He hurried to take a step back as his ears turned a rosy colour.

"It's Roman," Annabeth said. "Those mosaics are about two thousand years old."

"But how can they be Roman?" Percy avoided looking at Nova and focused his attention on Annabeth instead.

"The Labyrinth is a patchwork," Annabeth said. "It's always expanding, adding pieces. It's the only work of architecture that grows by itself."

"You make it sound like it's alive." Percy frowned as a groaning noise echoed from the tunnel.

"Let's not talk about it being alive," Grover whimpered. "Please?"

"All right," Annabeth said. "Forward."

"Down the hall with the bad sounds?" Tyson said. Even he looked nervous.

"Yeah," Annabeth said. "The architecture is getting older. That's a good sign. Daedalus's workshop would be in the oldest part."

That made sense to Nova. But it seemed like the maze was toying with them—they went fifty feet and the tunnel turned back to cement. The walls were spray-painted with graffiti. A neon tagger sign read 'MOZ RULZ'.

"I'm thinking this is not Roman," Percy muttered.

They continued walking and later the ceiling turned to wooden planks. Voices were heard from above and the creaking of footsteps sounded, as if they were under some kind of bar.

Then they found a skeleton.

He was dressed in white clothes, like some kind of uniform. A wooden crate of glass bottles sat next to him.

"A milkman," Annabeth said.

"What?" Nova said, trying to look anywhere but at the dead man.

"They used to deliver milk."

"Yeah, I know what they are, but ... what's he doing here?"

"Some people wander in by mistake," Annabeth said. "Some come exploring on purpose and never make it back. A long time ago, the Cretans sent people in here as human sacrifices."

Grover gulped. "He's been down here a long time." He pointed to the skeleton's bottles, which were coated with white dust. The skeleton's fingers were clawing at the brick wall, like he had died trying to get out.

"Only bones," Tyson said. "Don't worry, goat boy. The milkman is dead."

"The milkman doesn't bother me," Grover said. "It's the smell. Monsters. Can't you smell it?"

Tyson nodded. "Lots of monsters. But underground smells like that. Monsters and dead milk people."

Grover whimpered. "I thought maybe I was wrong."

"We have to get deeper into the maze," Annabeth said. "There has to be a way to the center."

They continued to walk for some time before they somehow made it to the Roman room again. This time, though, they weren't alone.

The man who awaited them had two faces. They jutted out from either side of his head, staring over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than it should've been.

He was dressed like a New York City doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black top-hat that somehow managed to stay on his double-wide head.

"Well, Annabeth?" said his left face. "Hurry up!"

"Don't mind him," said the right face. "He's terribly rude. Right this way, miss."

Annabeth's jaw dropped. "Uh ... I don't ..."

Behind him were two exits, blocked by wooden doors with huge iron locks. The two-faced doorman held a silver key, which he kept passing from his left hand to his right hand.

Behind them, the doorway had disappeared, replaced by more mosaics.

"I—I know who you are," Annabeth said.

"Oh, you're a smart one!" The left face sneered. "But do you know which way to choose? I don't have all day."

"Why are you trying to confuse me?" Annabeth asked.

The right face smiled. "You're in charge now, my dear. All the decisions are on your shoulders. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I—"

"We know you, Annabeth," the left face said.

"We know what you wrestle with every day. We know your indecision. You will have to make your choice sooner or later. And the choice may kill you."

The color drained out of Annabeth's face. "No ... I don't—"

"Leave her alone," Nova's voice didn't come out as stern as she intended, but she stepped forward and put a hand on Annabeth's shoulder to seem tougher. "Who are you?"

"I'm your best friend," the right face said.

"I'm your worst enemy," the left face said.

"I'm Janus," both faces said in harmony. "God of Doorways. Beginnings. Endings. Choices."

Annabeth moistened her lips looking between the two doors in deep thought. "I—I choose—"

Before she could point to a door, a brilliant light flooded the room. When the light disappeared, a woman was standing at the fountain. She was tall and graceful with long brown hair, braided in plaits with gold ribbons. She wore a simple white dress, but when she moved, the fabric shimmered with colors like oil on water.

"Janus," she said, "are we causing trouble again?"

"N-no, milady!" Janus's right face stammered.

"I see," the lady said. "You know very well your visit is premature. The girl's time has not yet come. So I give you a choice: leave these heroes to me, or I shall turn you into a door and break you down."

Both faces looked frightened. "Party pooper," he muttered and then he raised his silver key, inserted it into the air, and disappeared.

Then the woman turned toward the five children, and Nova could feel the fear grow in her body, but then the woman smiled.

"You must be hungry," she said. "Sit with me and talk."

She waved her hand, and the old Roman fountain began to flow. Jets of clear water sprayed into the air. A marble table appeared, laden with platters of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade.

"Who ... who are you?" Percy asked.

"I am Hera." The woman smiled. "Queen of Heaven."

author's note
i'm trying to not copy too much of the original storyline, but i feel like everything's important so i'm sorry 😭😭