JAWBREAKER

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚

Chiron had insisted they talk about everything in the morning, which was kind of like: Hey, your life's in mortal danger. Sleep tight!

It was hard to fall asleep, even with Percy's borrowed shirt, but when Warren finally did, she dreamed of a prison.

She saw a boy in a Greek tunic and sandals, crouching alone in a massive stone room. The ceiling was open to the night sky, but the walls were twenty feet high and made entirely of polished marble.

Scattered around the room were wooden crates. Some were cracked and tipped over, as if they'd been brutally tossed. Bronze tools spilled out of one— a compass, a saw, and a bunch of other gleaming instruments Warren didn't recognize.

The boy huddled in the corner, shivering from cold, or maybe fear. He was spattered in mud. His legs, arms, and face were scraped up as if he'd been dragged in along with the boxes.

Then the double oak doors groaned open. Two guards in bronze armor marched in, holding a bruised old man between them. They flung him to the floor in a battered heap.

"Father!" The boy ran to him.

The man's robes hung in tatters and his hair was streaked with gray. His nose had been broken in multiple places and his lips dripped with blood, which oozed down his curly beard.

The boy took the old man's head in his arms. "What did they do to you?" Then he yelled at the guards. "I'll kill you!"

"There will be no killing today," a voice said.

The guards moved aside. Behind them stood a tall man in pristine white robes. He wore a thin circlet of gold on his head, and his beard was pointed like a spear blade. His eyes glittered cruelly.

"You helped the Athenian kill my Minotaur, Daedalus. You turned my own daughter against me."

"You did that yourself, Your Majesty," the old man croaked.

A guard planted a kick in the old man's ribs. He groaned in agony. The young boy cried, "Stop!"

"You love your maze so much," the king said, "I have decided to let you stay here. This will be your workshop. Make me new wonders. Amuse me. Every maze needs a monster. You will be mine!"

"I don't fear you," the old man groaned.

The king smiled coldly. He locked his eyes on the boy. "But a man cares about his son, eh? Displease me, old man, and the next time my guards inflict a punishment, it will be on him!"

The king swept out of the room with his guards, and the doors slammed shut, leaving the boy and his father alone in the darkness.

"What shall we do?" the boy wept. "Father, they will kill you!"

The old man swallowed with difficulty. He tried to smile, but it was a gruesome sight with his bloody mouth.

"Take heart, my son." He gazed up at the stars. "I-I will find a way."

A bar lowered across the doors with a fatal BOOM, and Warren woke in a cold sweat.

Warren was still feeling shaky the next morning when Chiron called a war council. They met in the sword arena, which she thought was a bit strange— trying to discuss the fate of the camp while Mrs. O'Leary chewed on a life-size squeaky rubber yak.

Chiron and Quintus stood at the front by the weapon racks. Clarisse and Annabeth sat next to each other and led the briefing. Tyson and Grover sat as far away from each other as possible, and Percy was caught awkwardly in between. Also present around the table: Juniper the tree nymph, Silena Beauregard, Travis and Connor Stoll, Beckendorf, Lee Fletcher, and even Argus, the hundred-eyed security chief.

That's how Warren knew it was serious. Argus never showed up unless something really major was going on. The whole time Annabeth spoke, he kept his hundred blue eyes trained on her so intently his whole body turned bloodshot.

"Luke must have known about the Labyrinth entrance," Annabeth said. "He knew everything about camp."

Warren thought she heard a little pride in her voice, like she still respected the guy, evil as he was. She didn't know whether to be sad for Annabeth or disappointed.

Juniper cleared her throat. "That's what I was trying to tell Percy and Warren last night. The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it."

Silena Beauregard frowned. "You knew about the Labyrinth entrance, and you didn't say anything?"

Juniper's face turned green. "I didn't know it was important. Just a cave. I don't like yucky old caves."

"She has good taste," Grover said.

"I wouldn't have paid any attention except...well, it was Luke." She blushed a little greener.

Grover huffed. "Forget what I said about good taste."

"Interesting," Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. "And you believe this young man, Luke, would dare use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?"

"Definitely," Clarisse said. "If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about our magical boundaries, we wouldn't stand a chance. He could wipe us out easy. He must've been planning this for months."

"He's been sending scouts into the maze," Annabeth said. "We know because...because we found one."

"Chris Rodriguez," Chiron said. He gave Quintus a meaningful look.

"Ah," Quintus said. "The one in the...Yes, I understand."

"The one in the what?" Warren asked.

Clarisse glared at her. But it wasn't anger behind her eyes, it was pain. "The point is, Luke has been looking for a way to navigate the maze. He's searching for Daedalus's workshop."

Warren remembered her dream from the night before— the bloody old man in tattered robes. "The guy who created the maze."

"Yes," Annabeth said. "The greatest architect, the greatest inventor of all time. If the legends are true, his workshop is in the center of the Labyrinth. He's the only one who knew how to navigate the maze perfectly. If Luke managed to find the workshop and convince Daedalus to help him, Luke wouldn't have to fumble around searching for paths, or risk losing his army in the maze's traps. He could navigate anywhere he wanted— quickly and safely. First to Camp Half-Blood to wipe us out. Then...to Olympus."

The arena was silent except for Mrs. O'Leary's toy yak getting disemboweled.

Finally Beckendorf put his huge hands on the table. "Back up a sec, Annabeth, you said 'convince Daedalus'? Isn't Daedalus dead?"

Quintus grunted. "I would hope so. He lived, what, three thousand years ago? And even if he were alive, don't the old stories say he fled from the Labyrinth?"

Chiron clopped restlessly on his hooves. "That's the problem, my dear Quintus. No one knows. There are rumors...well, there are many disturbing rumors about Daedalus, but one is that he disappeared back into the Labyrinth toward the end of his life. He might still be there."

Warren thought about the old man she'd seen in her dreams. He'd looked so frail, it was hard to believe he'd lasted another week, much less three thousand years.

"We need to go in," Annabeth announced. "We have to find the workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we convince him to help us, not Luke. If Ariadne's string still exists, we make sure it never falls into Luke's hands."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "If we're worried about an attack, why not just blow up the entrance? Seal the tunnel?"

"Great idea!" Grover said. "I'll get the dynamite!"

"It's not so easy, stupid," Clarisse growled. "We tried that at the entrance we found in Phoenix. It didn't go well."

Annabeth nodded. "The Labyrinth is magical architecture, Percy. It would take huge power to seal even one of its entrances. In Phoenix, Clarisse demolished a whole building with a wrecking ball, and the maze entrance just shifted a few feet. The best we can do is prevent Luke from learning to navigate the Labyrinth."

"We could fight," Lee Fletcher said. "We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a defensive line and wait for them. If an army tries to come through, they'll find us waiting with our bows."

"We will certainly set up defenses," Chiron agreed. "But I fear Clarisse is right. The magical borders have kept this camp safe for hundreds of years. If Luke manages to get a large army of monsters into the center of camp, bypassing our boundaries...we may not have the strength to defeat them."

Nobody looked especially happy about that news. Chiron usually tried to be upbeat and optimistic. If he was predicting they couldn't hold off an attack, that wasn't good.

"We have to get to Daedalus's workshop first," Annabeth insisted. "Find Ariadne's string and prevent Luke from using it."

"But if nobody can navigate in there," Warren said, "what chance do we have? Getting lost in that maze is a suicide mission."

"I've been studying architecture for years," Annabeth said. "I know Daedalus's Labyrinth better than anybody."

"From reading about it."

"Well, yes."

"I don't think that's enough, Abs."

"It has to be!"

"It isn't!"

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Warren realized everyone was watching her and Annabeth like a tennis match. Mrs. O'Leary's squeaky yak gave a dying squeal as she ripped off its pink rubber head.

Chiron cleared his throat. "First things first. We need a quest. Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Luke from using the maze to invade this camp."

"We all know who should lead this," Clarisse said. "Annabeth."

There was a murmur of agreement. Warren knew Annabeth had been waiting for her own quest since she was a little kid, but she looked uncomfortable.

"You've done as much as I have, Clarisse," Annabeth said. "You should go, too."

She shook her head. "I'm not going back in there."

Travis Stoll laughed. "Don't tell me you're scared. Clarisse, chicken?"

Clarisse got to her feet and Warren expected her sister to pulverize Travis, but she said in a shaky voice: "You don't understand anything, punk. I'm never going in there again. Never!"

Then she stormed out of the arena.

This was not good. Warren knew it must've been bad for Clarisse to have kept her lips sealed all this time. She'd never met anyone stronger or braver. Her big sister never turned from a fight. So if she refused to ever face the Labyrinth again... A cold feeling seeped into Warren's blood.

Travis looked around sheepishly. "I didn't mean to—"

Chiron raised his hand. "The poor girl has had a difficult year. Now, do we have agreement that Annabeth should lead the quest?"

Everyone nodded except Quintus. He folded his arms and stared at the table, but Warren wasn't sure anyone else noticed.

"Very well," Chiron turned to Annabeth. "My dear, it's your time to visit the Oracle. Assuming you return to us in one piece, we shall discuss what to do next."

The minutes stretched on and on, and waiting for Annabeth was starting to feel harder than facing the Oracle herself. Warren still had nightmares about the mummified body stumbling through the woods last year. Although she'd never felt threatened by the Oracle's presence, she'd heard stories: campers who'd gone insane, or who'd seen visions so real they died of fear.

Warren leaned against Percy as he surveyed the arena. Tyson was in some kind of race against the Stoll brothers. She stifled a yawn.

"Sleepy?" Percy asked.

"Yeah. Bad dreams again."

"Me too," he shivered. "They were brutal. There was this creepy old King."

Warren froze. "Do you remember anything else?"

"I think...there was Daedalus and his son. He was all beat up."

"Shit," Warren cursed. "This isn't good."

"What do you mean?"

"I had the same dream. Which means—"

"Which means bad news," Percy groaned.

For demigods, dreams weren't just dreams. They were omens. Clues. Warnings. And any time Warren and Percy has matching dreams, it meant something big was about to happen.

Across the arena Chiron was deep in conversation with Quintus and Argus. It looked like they were disagreeing about something. Warren couldn't shake the bad feeling in her stomach. All of this waiting was making her antsy.

"I need some air," she finally sighed, rising from the bench. "I'm gonna go insane if I wait around for Annabeth to get back."

Warren exited the arena and started the trek to her cabin. She told Percy she'd be back in five minutes, she was just going to grab her iPod.

As Warren walked, she stared across the fields at the Big House's attic window, dark and still. What was taking Annabeth so long? She was pretty sure it hadn't taken Percy or Clarisse this long to get their quests.

"Warren," a girl whispered.

She paused mid-stride and looked around. Juniper was standing in the bushes nearby, camouflaged in the foliage. It was weird how she almost turned invisible when she was surrounded by plants.

She gestured Warren over urgently. "You need to know, Luke wasn't the only one I saw around that cave."

"What do you mean?" Warren asked, approaching the bush.

Juniper glanced back at the arena. "I was trying to say something, but he was right there."

"Who?"

"The sword master," she said. "He was poking around the rocks."

Warren's stomach clenched. "Quintus? When?"

"I don't know. I don't pay attention to time. Maybe a week ago, when he first showed up."

"What was he doing? Did he go in?"

"I-I'm not sure. He's creepy, Warren. I didn't even see him come into the glade. Suddenly he was just there. You have to tell Grover it's too dangerous—"

"Juniper?" Grover called from inside the arena. "Where'd you go?"

Juniper sighed. "I'd better go in. Just remember what I said. Don't trust that man!" She scampered back to the arena.

Warren stared at the Big House, feeling more uneasy than ever. If Quintus was up to something...she needed Annabeth's advice. She might know what to make of Juniper's news. But where the heck was she? Whatever was happening with the Oracle, it shouldn't be taking so long.

Finally Warren couldn't stand it anymore. Patience had never been her strong suit.

It was against the rules, but then again, nobody was watching. Warren abandoned the trip to her cabin and ran down the hill, heading across the fields instead.

The front parlor of the Big House was strangely quiet. She was used to seeing Dionysus by the fireplace, playing cards and eating grapes and griping at satyrs, but Mr. D was still away.

Warren walked down the hallway, floorboards creaking beneath her boots. When she got to the base of the stairs, she hesitated. Four floors above would be a little trap-door leading to the attic. Annabeth would be up there somewhere. Warren stood quietly and listened. But what she heard wasn't what she expected.

Sobbing. And it was coming from below her.

Warren followed the sound. She crept around the back of the stairs and found the basement door open. She'd nearly forgotten the Big House had a basement, no one ever went down there.

She peered inside and saw two figures in the far corner, sitting amid a bunch of stockpiled cases of ambrosia and strawberry preserves.

One was Clarisse.

The other was Chris Rodruigez.

He was wearing tattered camouflage pants and a dirty black T-shirt, his greasy hair matted to the nape of his neck. Sobs shook his body, and he hugged his shoulders so tightly it looked painful, like he was trying to stop himself from coming apart.

"It's okay," Clarisse was telling him. "Try a little more nectar."

"You're an illusion, Mary!" Chris backed farther into the corner. "G-get away."

"My name's not Mary." Her voice was gentle, but sad. "My name is Clarisse."

"It's dark!" Chris yelled. "So dark!"

"Come outside," Clarisse coaxed. "The sunlight will help you."

"A...a thousand skulls. The earth keeps healing him."

"Chris," Clarisse pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion. "You have to get better. Mr. D will be back soon. He's an expert in madness, he can help."

Chris's eyes were like a cornered rat's— wild and desperate. "There's no way out, Mary. No way out." Then he caught a glimpse of Warren and made a strangled, terrified sound. "T-the son of Poseidon!"

Warren whipped around, expecting to find Percy behind her. Had he followed her? But no, she was alone. Warren backed away quickly, hoping Clarisse hadn't seen her. She half expected her sister to come charging out yelling, but instead she just kept talking to Chris in a sad voice, trying to get him to drink the nectar. Maybe Clarisse thought it was part of Chris's hallucination, but...the son of Poseidon? What had that been about?

And Clarisse's tenderness— it was a side of her that was very rarely seen. Only once when Warren was ten and running a dangerously high temperature had her sister used that soft tone. Warren didn't remember much, only that she'd stayed by her side until the fever broke. And now it was Chris being taken care of. One of Clarisse's oldest friends, shivering in a dark basement, terrified to come out, and hallucinating someone named Mary.

Clarisse liked to pretend she didn't have a heart, but this...this surely had broken it. Warren would be inconsolable if something like that happened to Annabeth...to Percy. No wonder Clarisse didn't want anything to do with the Labyrinth. What had happened to Chris in there?

There was suddenly a creaking sound from above— like the attic door opening— and Warren ran for the front door. She needed to get out of that house.

"My dear," Chiron said upon Annabeth's return. "You made it."

She looked at Warren first, her eyes intense with warning. Or was it fear? Then she focused on Quintus. "I got the prophecy. I will lead the quest to find Daedalus's workshop."

Nobody cheered. Everyone liked Annabeth, and they wanted her to have a quest, but this one seemed insanely dangerous. And after what Warren had seen of Chris Rodriguez, she didn't even want to think about Annabeth descending into that weird maze.

Chiron scraped a hoof on the dirt floor. "What did the prophecy say exactly, my dear? The wording is important."

Annabeth took a deep breath. "I, ah...well, it said, you shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze..."

They waited.

"The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise."

Grover perked up. "The lost one! That must mean Pan! That's great!"

"With the dead and the traitor," Percy added. "Not so great."

"And?" Chiron asked. "What is the rest?"

"You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand," Annabeth said, "the child of Athena's final stand."

Everyone looked around uncomfortably. That didn't sound very good for Annabeth.

"Would it kill the gods to give us a happy prophecy for once," Warren muttered to herself.

"Hey...we shouldn't jump to conclusions," Silena said. "Annabeth isn't the only child of Athena, right?"

"But who's this ghost king?" Beckendorf asked.

No one answered. Warren and Percy shared a look, thinking back to the Iris Message where they'd seen Nico summoning spirits. They had a bad feeling the prophecy was connected to that.

"Are there more lines?" Chiron asked. "The prophecy does not sound complete."

Annabeth hesitated. "I don't remember exactly."

Chiron raised an eyebrow. Annabeth was known for her memory. She never forgot something she heard.

Annabeth shifted on her bench. "Something about...Destroy with a hero's final breath."

"And?" Chiron asked.

She stood. "Look, the point is, I have to go in. I'll find the workshop and stop Luke. And...I need help." She turned to Warren. "Will you come?"

Warren didn't hesitate. "I'd never let you go without me."

Annabeth smiled for the first time in days. "Grover, you too? The wild god is waiting."

Grover seemed to forget how much he hated the underground. The line about the "lost one" had completely energized him. "I'll pack extra recyclables for snacks!"

"Percy," Annabeth said. "And Tyson. I'll need you both."

"I'm in," Percy nodded.

"Yay! Blow-things-up time!" Tyson clapped so hard he woke up Mrs. O'Leary, who was dozing in the corner.

"Wait, Annabeth," Chiron said. "A hero is allowed only two companions."

"I need them all," she insisted. "Chiron, it's important. You made an exception for Percy's quest."

"Annabeth." Chiron flicked his tail nervously. "That was not something I did lightly. It goes against the ancient laws, and there are always consequences. Think on that. Three is a sacred number. There are three fates, three furies, three Olympian sons of Kronos. It is a good strong number that stands against many dangers. Four was a risk. Five is..." he shook his head darkly.

Annabeth took a deep breath. "I know. But we have to. Please."

It was clear Chiron didn't like it. Quintus was studying them, like he was trying to decide who would come back alive.

Chiron sighed. "Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, we send you into the Labyrinth."

Quintus pulled Warren aside as the council was breaking up.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he told her.

Mrs. O'Leary came over, wagging her tail happily. She dropped her shield at Warren's feet, and she threw it for her. Quintus watched the hound romp after it.

Warren remembered what Juniper had said about him scouting out the maze. She didn't trust him, but when he looked at her, she saw real concern in his eyes.

"I don't like the idea of you going down there," he said. "Any of you. But if you must, I want you to remember something. The Labyrinth exists to fool you. It will distract you. That's dangerous for half-bloods. We are easily distracted."

"You've been in there?"

"Long ago." His voice was ragged. "I barely escaped with my life. Most who enter aren't that lucky." He gripped her shoulder. "Warren, keep your mind on what matters most. If you can do that, you might find the way. And here, I wanted to give you something."

He handed her a little silver tube. It was so cold that it burned; she almost dropped it.

"A whistle?" Warren asked.

"A dog whistle," Quintus said. "For Mrs. O'Leary."

"Um, thanks, but—"

"How will it work in the maze? I'm not a hundred percent certain it will. But Mrs. O'Leary is a hellhound. She can appear when called, no matter how far away she is. I'd feel better knowing you had this. If you really need help, use it; but be careful, the whistle is made of Stygian ice."

"And that's different from normal ice because...?"

"It's from the River Styx. Very hard to craft. Very delicate. It cannot melt, but it will shatter when you blow it, so you can only use it once."

Warren was slightly wary of the whistle. She thought about Luke, her old friend turned enemy. He'd given Percy a gift before their quest— magic shoes that had been designed to drag him to his death.

But Quintus seemed nice. So concerned. And Mrs. O'Leary liked him, which had to count for something. She wanted to trust him...but she'd trusted Luke once too.

"Thanks," she told Quintus.

Warren slipped the freezing whistle into her pocket, promising herself that she would never use it, and then she dashed off to find Annabeth.

The Athena cabin was not a place Warren visited all too often. It was a pretty silver building with plain white curtains and a stone owl over the doorway.

Once upon a time when they were young girls, she and Annabeth used to spend time together there, but as more Athena children were claimed, it got too crowded for comfort. Not to mention all of the dusty old books made Warren's nose itch.

She knocked on the doorframe. "Abs?"

Nobody answered. Warren stepped in and looked around. It was still "nerd central" as she liked to call it. The bunks were pushed against one wall to make room for all of the workbenches and tables and tools and weapons. The back wall was a huge library crammed with ancient scrolls and leather-bound books.

There was an architect's drafting table scattered with rulers and protractors, as well as 3-D printed models of buildings. Huge old war maps were plastered to the ceiling. Sets of armor hung under the windows, their bronze plates glinting in the sun.

Annabeth stood in the back of the room, rifling through some scrolls.

"Knock, knock?" Warren said.

Annabeth turned with a start. "Oh, hi. Didn't hear you."

"You okay?"

She frowned at the scroll in her hands. "Just trying to do some research. Daedalus's Labyrinth is so huge. None of the stories agree about anything. The maps just lead from nowhere to nowhere."

Warren thought about what Quintus had said, how the maze tries to distract you. She wondered if Annabeth knew that already.

"We'll figure it out," Warren promised.

Annabeth's ponytail had come loose and was hanging in a tangled blonde curtain around her face. Her gray eyes looked like hard steel. "I've wanted to lead a quest since I was seven," she muttered.

"I know." Warren put her hand on her shoulder. "You're going to crush it."

Annabeth looked at her gratefully, but then stared down at all the books and scrolls she'd pulled from the shelves. "I'm worried, though. Maybe I shouldn't have asked you and the guys to do this."

"We're your friends, we wouldn't miss it."

"But..." Annabeth stopped herself.

"What is it?" Warren asked. "The prophecy?"

"I'm sure it's fine," she said in a small voice.

"What was the last line?"

Warren expected Annabeth to dismiss the question, to say that she had a plan. What she didn't expect was for Annabeth to burst into tears and hold out her arms. Warren stepped forward and hugged her.

"Hey, it's okay." She patted her back, feeling Annabeth shiver with suppressed sobs.

Warren wished she was better at this. Feelings were always so hard for her. But she and Annabeth were practically sisters, so just being there was enough.

"Chiron might be right," Annabeth muttered. "I'm breaking the rules. But I don't know what else to do. I need all of you with me. It just feels right."

"Then don't worry about it," Warren said. "We've had plenty of problems before, and we solved them. With your brains and my biceps we'll kill this quest."

She managed a watery laugh. "This is different. I don't want anything happening to any of you."

Behind them, somebody cleared their throat.

It was one of Annabeth's half-brothers, Malcolm. "Hey," he said. "Archery practice is starting, Annabeth. Chiron said to come find you."

Warren stepped away from Annabeth and grinned at the boy. "Hey bucky," she said.

Malcolm glared at her. "That name got old three years ago. I don't even have braces anymore."

"It's still funny to me," she shrugged. "You'll always be baby buck tooth."

"Tell Chiron I'll be right there," Annabeth said, pointedly ignoring them. This is why Warren wasn't allowed to visit the cabin anymore.

Malcom said, "Fine," and left, squinting angrily at the Ares girl as he went.

Annabeth rubbed the lingering tears from her eyes. "You go ahead, Warren. I'd better get ready for archery."

Warren nodded, turned to leave, then hesitated. "Annabeth?" she said. "About your prophecy. The line about a hero's last breath—"

"You're wondering which hero? I don't know."

"No. Something else. I was thinking the last line usually rhymes with the one before it. Was it something about— did it end in the word death?"

Annabeth stared down at her scrolls. "You'd better go. Get ready for the quest. I'll— I'll see you in the morning."

Warren left her there, staring at maps that led from nowhere to nowhere; but she couldn't shake the feeling that one of them wasn't going to come back from this quest alive.