The Battle of The Labyrinth [Book Four]

A Legend Born.

     The footsteps echoed in the never ending corridor, bouncing off the walls and hitting her eardrums like the best acoustic equipment in a concert. The kind of amp that makes the base hum in your chest. Her rapid, uneven breathing and the endless slithering behind her mixed into the soundtrack, making her heart pump rapidly within her ribcage.

     There was a glint in the darkness ahead that caught her attention, but it was too late. There was a sickening sound of a blade passing through flesh, and Reagan couldn't even let out a muffled scream. When her lips parted in agony, crimson blood trailed out, dripping down on her clothes and the ground, staining her teeth red. Before her eyes rolled, she caught a glimpse of black hair that was long and touched the attacker's shoulders. His eyes were angry, rimmed red from crying. A sword stuck out of her gut, and the metal was the color of iron, dark and menacing. But she saw his eyes, filled with so much sadness that she couldn't possibly fathom how he hasn't gone insane yet. Her hands gripped the younger boy's shoulders, and it took the last of her strength to speak.

"Ni-" Reagan let out one slow, final breath that pushed the word out of her mouth. The last word she'd ever say, "-co."

The words were like snakes hissing in her ear, an old voice that was filled with the wisdom compacted together through many, many, many years.

"A soul for a soul."

     Reagan woke up screaming, clutching at wounds that weren't really there. At least, she thought she was screaming, yet none of her cabin mates woke up. Pink rays of light filtered through the windows, but it was still several hours before anyone would have to be up. She shifted, attempting to be as silent as a mouse as she crawled out of bed and dressed into a pair of black gym shorts with a matching black compression shirt. Reagan was more muscular then the year before, taller and more confident. Her hair was thicker, dark wavy locks cascading down her back and shoulder, piercing green eyes that were more angular, like she was always glaring or looking at someone suspiciously.

     Tiptoeing out of her cabin, Reagan didn't dare to make any noise until she was outside and safely away from her siblings, who would react rather angrily if she were to wake them up. She glanced in the direction of the forest, seeing shadows of dryads dance around the shadows of their trees, not fully coming into view. It was a reminder that Grover had a hearing with the Cloven Council today. Her feet carried her through camp to the training arena, and was quickly met with a burly hellhound that barked excitedly when she appeared.

"Ah, Reagan," a man's voice said. "I didn't know that the campers were waking up to start their day." There was an underlying tone in his voice that she knew all too well.

The younger half-blood looked to the older one, a blush of embarrassment on her face. "I couldn't sleep."

He nodded knowingly. "Bad dreams?"

"Something like that."

     The Labyrinth had left a scar. Not just physically, but mentally. The dripping of water from the ceiling, echoes of monsters and gods know what down the hallways. The entire maze shifting and groaning like it was alive, tricking her into going the wrong way. How did she ever get out?

"Quintus... How can you survive something like that?"

The Master Swordsman contemplated the question and leaned against his sword, gaze drifting over her lazily. "You must persist."

She scoffed derivatively at that answer. She was hoping for something like, 'Blow it up.' "Thanks."

Quintus chuckled. "Do you wish to spar?" he asked after a moment. "But then you must get back to your cabin. It wouldn't be good for the leader of the cabin to be caught breaking the rules, would it?"

     She smirked. She liked being called, 'cabin leader.' It only happened a few months ago, and she became the leader because she had experienced more quests then Clarisse, and through dueling the older sibling. Despite winning, Reagan had gained a nasty scar on her cheek, pale white compared to her tanned skin. Clarisse had given it to her, but in the end there was no actual harm done. At least, not to their relationship. Reagan was more worried about getting the pulp beaten out of her in the middle of the night then any damage in an actual duel. Yet in the end, Reagan had prevailed and became the new leader of the Ares cabin.

"You're on."

     Reagan thought that she had faced every type of challenge on the battlefield. From Titans to Amphisbaenas (in the Labyrinth and definitely something she didn't want to encounter again) to basic monsters like hellhounds and cyclopses. But Quintus was fast, swift in disarming the spear from her hands and knocking her off of feet. It happened in a blink of an eye.

He grinned. "You're father has been training you well."

She was scowling with anger. "It doesn't seem like that now."

Quintus laughed and helped her up. "It's showing. I've just had many more years of experience then you. Training is all well and good, but nothing can beat experience." She nodded and picked up her spear, and he nodded to it. "Does your weapon have a name?"

She looked at him in confusion. "Does it have to?"

Thinking this the funniest thing in the world, the half-blood let out a bark of laughter, his head tipping back. "No. But perhaps one day it will be passed down through generations as a legend. A worthy legend always deserves a name."

     Reagan thought about this, slowly looking down at her beloved spear she's had for almost three years now. Three years wasn't a long time, but her and her weapon have been through a lot together. Clarisse's spear had been called 'Maimer.' There was Riptide, which belonged to Percy. Tantalus spoke again, pulling her from her reverie.

"Do you wish to go again?"

Her grip on the shaft of her spear tightened. "I do."

     Their sparring matches went on and on that morning. With each loss, Reagan improved. She read his body, anticipated moves, then countered smoothly. Yet it wasn't enough. After the tenth time getting knocked off her feet, it was time to go. Waving goodbye to their Swordsmaster and his pet hellhound, Mrs. O'Leary, Reagan rushed back to her cabin and began to wake her siblings up to start the day.