House of Hades

XXVIII-- Annabeth

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XXVIII—Annabeth          

Annabeth thought that she would be ready for anything…

At least she had thought that—five years ago, before she had actually gone on her first quest with Percy. She had thought that training endlessly at Camp ever since she had arrived there at the age of seven would have been enough to keep her alive in the outside world, when the time actually came.

She had to give Chiron credit, though—his training tips and basic demigod knowledge had helped her a lot, and, hey, she was still alive, wasn’t she?

But nothing—nothing that Annabeth had learnt at Camp Half-Blood, nothing she had experienced during her previous quests, nothing that she had read about or studied on her own—no, none of that would have ever prepared her from surviving Tartarus.

Unfortunately, she didn’t think that anyone had made a pamphlet, or crash course on how to stay alive and sane in the deepest, darkest pit in the Underworld—or if someone had written one, Annabeth had never seen it before.

These were the thoughts that were running through the daughter of Athena’s head as she travelled through the swirling vortex known as the first-level gates.

It was the same crazy feeling, but funnily enough, Annabeth had gotten so used to it by now that it was almost… comfortable. The key word being ‘almost,’ of course.

There was still the nauseous feeling that you were going to throw up, the popping in your ears because of the wind rushing past you, zooming past at the speed of light, and the lingering fear that you would be skinned alive, your skin ripped off you, leaving nothing but a skeleton.

She tried to sort through the din of voices and conversations, searching, yearning, for the familiar voice of the one person that she wanted, needed, with her at the moment.

When she finally found it, she latched onto it, her only reassurance in that cold, dark place—her anchor.

Gods, no, I’m not dead, aren’t I? She heard Percy’s thoughts.

The daughter of Athena couldn’t help but giggle at Percy’s obliviousness.

Wait, no—she heard him change his mind. I don’t think I’m dead… ‘Cause I feel like someone hit me with a bus and ran me over it—and I don’t think you can feel pain when you’re dead… Right?