Cursed [malexmale]

Chapter Twenty-Two

"You're not going to bitch at me how I know that would work?" He asked dryly. I shook my head.

"I want to know," I admitted, "But it's not important right now." Menoetius nodded and we followed the rest of the group, maneuvering through another set of tunnels. It was a long silence before Menoetius spoke to me in a quiet tone.

"It was a dream," he said. I looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"A dream," he repeated, sounding irritated and at my raised eyebrow, he continued, "I had a dream the other night, when we were in Olympus, the night before we left. The problem is that I'm not supposed to be able to dream." I frowned, then paused as we avoided another booby-trap of darts shooting out of the ceiling. Menoetius was silent for a while before I finally asked,

"Why can't you dream?" I asked.

"Hades wouldn't let me," Menoetius said dryly, "No, the only thing that's allowed to visit me in my sleep is my nightmares, and his stupid bastard son, Malachi, to make sure I'm not plotting some super secret uprising. It didn't mean much to me, just that maybe I was given a break for once, or that Hades was misinformed about how scary tombs are to me, but... When we got down into that chamber and I saw the door, it looked exactly like the one that was in my dream, the one that would open if I told it too."

"Does it open because you tell it to, or because the priest just couldn't find a creative password?" I asked. Menoetius shook his head.

"I have no idea. All I know is that I told it to open and it did," he answered, then frowned, "And all the traps were already triggered in my dreams. It was like someone was leading me, but I couldn't see them. I just felt compelled to keep going through the tunnels and traps until I got to the end."

"The end would be the priest's burial chamber," I filled. Menoetius nodded.

"The entrance Hannibal was talking about is behind his sarcophagus, but in my dream, I never had the chance to open it. Everything goes dark and I wake up feeling clammy," he explained. Now that was curious. If Hades and Malachi could keep control of Menoetius's dream patterns, who was powerful enough to circumvent their powers? Was another oneiroi involved or was it the Moirai at work? I had no idea, but whatever it was, it was helping us through this labyrinth of a tomb and hopefully, nothing would go dark when we reached the end.

"Have you ever seen anyone in your dreams ever?" I asked. A strange shadow passed across Menoetius's face, like he was remembering something before he shook his head and averted his eyes.

"I've never dreamt of anyone, even before Hades had his son invade my sleep," he muttered. I decided to stop asking about his dreams. They seemed to be a bitter topic, and while I still wasn't very fond of Menoetius, I felt that strange surge of protection inside me that begged me to keep an eye on Menoetius. For Hannibal and Arikos, that would make sense. For Menoetius? Part of me didn't like it, but it didn't matter. I was a protection god and right now, I had a lot of protecting to do.

We maneuvered through the tunnels for what felt like another few hours before we reached a large open chamber that revealed exotic paintings on the walls, a beautiful fountain with crystal clear water spouting out the top of what appeared to be a dragon coiled around a staff shaped for Zetnos's symbol, colorful flat stones embedded into the ground and dozens of plants that had gone extinct on Atlantis for centuries, even before it sank into oblivion.

And across from the entrance clear on the other side of the room was the sarcophagus made to look like a dragon carved into the stone box. Relieved we'd finally made it, I started toward it, but Menoetius caught my arm and yanked me back, just in time to avoid a spike that shot straight up out of the ground and would've skewered me had I stepped down.