SEVEN—Voices From the Deep
(cw: description of panic attack)
─── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽☼☾.* :☆ﾟ｡ ───
There was not much to do on the train except to eat, sleep, and talk.
But even when they didn't have to fight, they were unable to relax one bit, constantly wary of any signs of danger or monsters that might appear at any moment.
They coped with it in different ways. Grover slept most of the time. Percy paced the length of the train all the way to the front and back again. Annabeth finished her book and started it all over. Ciaran drew, as usual, the changing scenery from his window providing much inspiration. At one point, he did a portrait of Grover that he was sure wasn't that good—the shape of his face was a little off, his nose was too big, and Ciaran felt that he couldn't quite capture his smiling brown eyes—but the satyr held it like it was a map leading straight to the god Pan and promised to cherish it forever.
The others had also left their mark on the pieces of paper that Ciaran stole from Aunty Em's office and bound together into a makeshift book. Grover drew some trees and dotted the meadows with flowers. Percy doodled simple water waves on the corners. Meanwhile, Annabeth did an elaborate drawing of an owl, something that would take her close to a whole afternoon as she tirelessly went over it with an eraser.
Due to his insomnia, Ciaran became the unofficial night watch of the group, the one to make sure that they got at least some semblance of sleep. He didn't mind it, he had become familiar with the company of night and found solace in the moon and stars. There were times when he peered out of the window and he would catch a glimpse of another world laid upon this own—his world now. One time, he saw a dark beast prowling amongst the field, bigger than any wolf he had ever seen. It moved to stand up on its hind legs, its beady eyes a sliver of scarlet against the argent light. It howled at the moon before disappearing back into the night.
Grover was the only one who got constant sleep, as both Annabeth and Percy kept on being woken up by his snores and bleats.
But that wasn't the only thing that had Percy coming in and out of fitful sleep. Ciaran looked up when he heard mumbles leaving the son of Poseidon's mouth, his eyebrows knitted together as his face became contorted with what seemed like distress.
"No...not gonna help...I won't help you." He turned his head to the other side, his teeth gritted as sweat gathered on his forehead.
Ciaran debated on whether or not to wake him up. It was clear he was suffering from a nightmare, but he wasn't sure if returning Percy back to reality would trigger a worse reaction or not. He decided to gently shake him, but just as he stood up, Grover let out a particularly loud snore that had Percy snapping awake. Annabeth also fluttered her eyes open, and at that point the only one asleep was the satyr shuffling around in his seat.
He kept on tossing and turning so much that his fake foot fell off. Thankfully, Ciaran and Annabeth got his sneaker back on before anyone could notice the goat leg sticking out.
"So, who wants your help?" Annabeth asked Percy when she sat back down.
"What do you mean?"
"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"
"I heard it, too," Ciaran said. "You looked like you were having a nightmare."
Percy bit his lower lip, his eyes escaping their questioning looks as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. Eventually, his shoulders sagged and he told them about his dream, about the chilling, formless voice from the gaping maw of a bottomless pit—the incarnation of a void staring back at him. An ancient, timeless voice that crooned in his ears, a noose that wrapped around his body, more fatal than a siren song.
Little hero, it had called Percy. Help me and I will give you what you want.
Goosebumps rose on Ciaran's skin as if the temperature inside the train just dropped sharply. If he let out a puff of air, he was sure it would appear as a cloud of smoke before him.
Annabeth was silent, her fingers drumming on the armrest. "That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."
"He offered my mom in trade. Who else could do that?"
"I guess...if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the Master Bolt if he already has it?"
Percy shook his head as he slumped back into his seat. There were the first signs of bags under his eyes and a pallor that made his face look drained. At that moment, Grover shifted in his sleep, mumbling something about vegetables, causing the cap covering his horns to slip. Ciaran reached over and adjusted it for him.
"Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy." Annabeth flickered a look at Ciaran. "No offense, Ciaran."
"It wouldn't be the first time I heard less than good things about him. Besides, I don't know him well enough to counter anything. For all I know, everything that you said might as well be the truth." Ciaran spun the pencil in his hand. He didn't know how to feel about hearing others associate Hades with the worst of the worst. Perhaps he should be more defensive of his hypothetical father, like Percy was with Poseidon even though he didn't know exactly what kind of person he was. But while Percy had a morsel of the Sea God through his mom's words, Ciaran had nothing. "I don't know, I guess I'm still not used to thinking about him being related to me. I've had my Dad be my dad for practically my entire life. It's hard to think of anyone else who can fill that position, least of all someone who has never been there for me."
"Yeah, I get what you mean," Percy said.
Not only was Ciaran grateful that he wasn't alone on this quest, but he was also thankful that he could talk to someone who could relate to his troubles. After Medusa was beheaded and they camped out for the night, all of the boys stayed up to talk and look at the stars hidden behind the veil of artificial lights pouring from the city.
Percy had told them how he didn't care about saving the world or returning the Master Bolt. The only reason why he went on this quest was to save his mom from the Underworld. Grover disagreed, pointing out that he wouldn't have mailed Medusa's head to Olympus if he didn't want his father to notice him.
In the end, that was what most demigods had in common, wasn't it? Aside from sharing a divine bloodline, deep down they all wanted their parent to acknowledge them. After all, weren't they enough? Weren't they worthy of some semblance of love? Shouldn't they at least have their names be spoken with affection, to be patted on their shoulder and told that they have done well after all the trauma, the monsters, the running, the feeling of having a rug pulled from underneath them?
None of them chose to be a half-blood. None of them chose to be born from a union between a deity and a mortal, least of all from one of the three most powerful gods among the Olympians. None of them chose to be forgotten, only to be remembered when it suits the gods.
Ciaran confessed that he wasn't sure how to react if it turned out he wasn't Hades' son. A part of him said that he would be relieved, that he wouldn't mind as much. But there was a quiet voice inside of him, one that sounded eerily like a tinier, younger version of Ciaran, that told him he would be thrown back to square one—abandoned, unwanted, forgotten.
He hated those words. Each of them sticky like tar, stubborn and unyielding. No matter how much he scraped at them, they always left behind a dark residue. Instead, he thought about his family, how they were waiting for him, how he would soon see them again.
It was all oh so complicated. But at least on that dark, silent night, they have their shared complications.
"I wouldn't mind having you as a cousin," Percy had said. Ciaran felt some comfort in that.
Back on the train, Annabeth continued. "The point is you can't reason with Hades. I don't care if the Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time—"
"This time?" Percy asked. "You mean you've run into them before?"
One of her hands made its way up to her necklace, her fingers closing around the white clay bead painted with a pine tree. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom."
"What would you do if it was your dad?"
"That's easy. I'd leave him to rot."
Ciaran was surprised at her easy conviction. He had gleaned tidbits of her strained relationship with her father, but this callousness was on another level. "You're being serious?"
Annabeth's gray eyes were solid, unflinching. "My dad's resented me since the day I was born. He never wanted a baby. When he got me, he asked Athena to take me back and raise me on Olympus because he was too busy with his work. She wasn't happy about that. She told him heroes had to be raised by their mortal parent."
"But how...I mean, I guess you weren't born in a hospital..."
"I appeared on my father's doorsteps, in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr, the West Wind. You'd think my dad would remember that as a miracle, right? Like, maybe he'd take some digital photos or something. But he always talked about my arrival as if it were the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened to him. When I was five he got married and totally forgot about Athena. He got a 'regular' mortal wife, and had two 'regular' mortal kids, and tried to pretend I didn't exist."
They didn't know how to respond, or whether or not they should say anything at all. She had opened up about her past, poured out the bits of her heart that she wanted to believe she could toss around as nonchalantly as declaring a fact about the Empire State Building. Perhaps then she could make herself believe it didn't affect her as much.
Saying "sorry" didn't feel right with Ciaran.
"My mom married a really awful guy," Percy said. "Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your dad was thinking."
Annabeth moved to fiddle with the college ring, her expression still rigid as steel. "He doesn't care about me. His wife, my stepmom, treated me like a freak. She wouldn't let me play with her children. My dad went along with her. Whenever something dangerous happened—you know, something with monsters—they would both look at me resentfully, like, 'How dare you put your family at risk.' Finally, I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. I ran away."
"How old were you?"
"Same age as when I started camp. Seven."
"But...you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself."
"Not alone, no. Athena watched over me, guided me toward help. I made a couple of unexpected friends who took care of me, for a short time, anyway."
"Well, at least now you have a family of your own that accepts you," Ciaran said.
"I guess so." She didn't say anything more, electing to continue toying with her clay beads and gently leaning her head on the window. She was looking for something, but Ciaran wasn't sure it was anything she could find in the present.
He knew a thing or two about the past, how it would always come back like an elongated shadow on the nicest of days. No one is a blank slate forever.
Their second day on the train turned out almost the same.
Ciaran was in the middle of a dreamless sleep when he felt a hand shaking him, again. He brushed it off, turning on his side, and mumbled about giving him a few more minutes. Not even a second later, he felt something collide with his arm, hard enough to knock most of the threads of sleep from him. He opened his eyes groggily, wincing at the redness forming on his arm. After blinking several times, Ciaran's vision cleared enough for him to see Annabeth standing over him.
"What was that for?" he drawled, small sparks of pain bursting from where he was hit.
"Come on, Sleepyhead. We're going sightseeing."
"Huh?"
Annabeth rolled her eyes. "The Gateway Arch. We have a three-hour layover. Are you coming or not?"
Ciaran exchanged looks with Grover and Percy. They all knew they couldn't let her go alone. And would it be so bad to stretch their legs a little?
"Fine, but please don't hit me anymore."
─── ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽☼☾.* :☆ﾟ｡ ───
Everything at camp was supposed to be the same. Or at least, as normal as they could be.
The rain had ceased for the most part, but the storm was still there on the horizon, brewing, waiting, each heavy rumble a foreboding omen. They all tried to ignore it, but they couldn't help but flinch at every web of lightning. The naiads and nereids didn't go out of the water much these days.
They moved forward, regardless. That was what demigods do.
Lux was on her way back to the cabins with Lee after the archery lesson. Practice was good for her, it gave her something to do, each satisfying thwack that rings whenever an arrow hits the target providing a sufficient distraction from all other noises.
"Nice job today." The son of Apollo clapped her on the back. "You just need to work on your reload speed and you'll be surpassing me in no time."
"Thanks, Lee." Lux flushed at the compliment. "But I haven't even beaten Michael's score yet. I can't imagine besting you anytime soon."
"Don't worry about it, kiddo. Just take it one step at a time. You have a lot of potential, you just need to believe in yourself more."
Lux smiled. "Any more words of wisdom?"
"Imagine the bullseye as the biggest, scariest monster that you can think of. That'll probably do it."
She was in the middle of laughing when she was cut off by the sound of raised voices. Lux and Lee looked at each other, alarmed at how they became louder the closer they approached the cabins. Crowding around the hearth at the center of the field were pockets of campers standing in pairs or small groups. Some were poking their heads out of the cabins in curiosity as two people engaged in a near shouting match right next to the fire.
They all knew things had been tense at camp over the last few days, more than once boiling over, but the last thing they expected was to see carefree Kayla Knowles from Cabin Seven and usually calm and collected Malcolm Pace from Athena's pointing fingers at each other.
They broke into a light jog and quickly burst onto the scene.
"What's going on here?" Lee demanded.
"Lee!" Kayla said his name in relief. "You'll never believe what he's saying! He's accusing Dad of working with Poseidon!"
"What? Like they didn't team up together with Hera to try and overthrow Zeus? What's to say he's not doing it again this time?" Malcolm taunted.
Lux saw Lee take a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes flashing angrily for a second. But he quickly regained his senses, as expected of a camp counselor. "Okay, let's just all calm down—"
"Aren't you conveniently leaving someone out? Who's the one that provided the ropes to bind the Lord of the Skies? Oh that's right, your mother, genius," she scoffed. "Or is your head so far up your arse that you can't remember?"
Malcolm's face became bright red, his gray eyes stormy as he made a move to lunge forward. Lux and Lee stepped in immediately, acting as a barrier to keep the two campers apart.
"Whoa guys, fighting isn't going to get us anywhere." Lux had her hands out in front of Malcolm. "We already have four people on the quest to retrieve the bolt. They're going to succeed, and everything's going to sort itself out, okay? Malcolm, you trust Annabeth, don't you?"
"Of course I trust her," Malcolm said without hesitation, "but it's that son of the Sea God that I don't trust, nor do I trust—"
He clamped his mouth shut before he could finish, but from how he snuck a quick peek at Lux before guiltily looking away, she could easily fill in the rest of his sentence.
"Look, all I'm trying to say is that everything would be better if the Sea God just handed over the Master Bolt."
"Who says that he has it?" Kayla retorted.
"Who says that he doesn't? Look around, Kayla." Malcolm gestured to the gray skies, to the mass of heavy, angry clouds full to bursting with rain and lightning. "Why else would they be fighting if he doesn't have it? Or are you suggesting that it's in someone else's domain? Somewhere sunnier, perhaps?"
Steam was coming out of Kayla's ears, but she was held back by Lee.
"Stop it, all of you. Lux is right, fighting and pointing fingers isn't going to make any of the problems go away," Lee put on what he likes to call his commanding voice. "Nor is invoking the gods' names in vain. So why don't we step back and clear our heads?"
"Yeah, why don't you check yourself, Malcolm?" A voice piped in, one of Ares' children. "You Athenas act so high and mighty and like you know everything, but deep down you're just as biased as everyone else."
"Better than not having any brains at all," Malcolm sneered. "You Areses only know how to do one thing, and that's going around acting like barbarians. Just like your oaf of a father."
"What did you just say?!"
It was like a volcano had erupted. All of Cabin Five joined the fray, pulling out their swords and spears from gods know where, waving them around, and yelling threats they intended to keep. Seeing this, those from Athena's Cabin also didn't hesitate to join in and defend their sibling, equally miraculously equipped with weapons that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. The scene quickly descended into chaos as some of the observers stepped in to help (according to what their definition of "help" was, at least) while others called for the rest of the camp counselors.
Lux was caught in the ruckus, trying her best to stand her ground and get everyone to stop fighting before someone actually got skewered. But all her words fell on deaf ears, even as she shouted at the top of her lungs.
After bumping into two livid children of Athena and Ares in a spat, she was pushed aside and would have ended up in the path of a sword descending if not for another bronze sword intercepting it and parrying the blade away. She felt an arm wound around her shoulders to steady her, and when she looked up to see who had saved her, she felt her body relax.
"Luke! Thank gods you're here," Lux burst out.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" Luke's eyes went up and down to check if she had any injuries.
She shook her head. "No, I'm okay. But we have to stop this before someone gets hurt."
"I know." He helped her to her feet, his eyebrows pinched together as he looked at the mess of demigods looking like they were ready for war. "But no one's listening to us. Come on, we need to find Chiron. He'll be able to talk everyone back to their senses."
Lux nodded readily, wanting nothing more than for all the shouting to stop. She followed Luke as they weaved out of the suffocatingly crowded field and trekked up toward the Big House. Fortunately, Chiron was there, meeting them halfway as he made his way down from the deck. Luke provided a summary of what was going on while Lux filled in some of the details of how the fighting began.
Chiron patiently listened to them, maintaining his composure even as he pawed at the wooden floor and his tail swished around incessantly. He thanked them for telling him, placed his warm hands on their shoulders, and assured them that he would take care of it. With no more time to lose, he kicked into a canter and disappeared in a cloud of dust.
Once Chiron was gone, Lux found herself slumping to the floor, her legs feeling like jelly as her her mind was assailed with indignant cries and accusations that coalesced into a furious maelstrom. She cradled her head, desperately begging them to stop.
But they never listened to her. Instead, the voices become younger and shriller until they resemble children too innocent to fully understand the world. She could hear herself among the cacophony, pleading with someone to not cry anymore. She heard it then, the voice of that woman. As clear as an icicle shattering to the ground, looming over them like a dark shadow.
"Lux! Are you okay?"
She lifted her head to see that Luke was kneeling to be at eye level with her, concern clear on his face. He must have noticed how hard she was breathing, for he gently rested his hand on her shoulder and softened his voice. "You're okay, you're safe. Come on, breathe with me."
Lux followed his instructions, inhaling and exhaling along with his rhythm until she felt her accelerated heart slowing down and it became easier for her to think without feeling like her head was splitting on itself. She leaned her head on the railing post, silently patting Luke on the shoulder to let him know that she was feeling better.
Faintly, she heard someone call Luke's name. She tilted her gaze to see the misty screen of an Iris message past his shoulder, the faces of her brother and her friends looking back at her.
"Percy!" Luke turned around, his eyes wide. "Is that Annabeth and Ciaran, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?"
"We're...uh...fine," Annabeth stuttered, her hands frantically twisting around themselves to adjust her dirty T-shirt and comb the loose strands of her hair back. "Is Lux okay? What happened?"
"I'm fine." Lux waved her hands dismissively, cracking a smile while hoping that they wouldn't notice how shaky it was. She accepted a hand from Luke to help her to her feet. "What's up? Do you guys need something?"
"We thought—Chiron—I mean—" Annabeth's eyes kept zipping to Luke and back.
"We wanted to ask Chiron for some advice," Ciaran finished for her, but his attention was intent on Lux.
Luke's face fell. "He's down at the cabins. We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?"
"I'm right here." The satyr's voice called from off-screen and a second later he appeared in their line of vision. "What kind of issues?"
Before he could answer, the sound of hip-hop music blasted through the screen, so loud that it could shake the Big House itself.
"Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke winced.
"I'll take care of it!" Annabeth yelled, looking as if she was internally thanking the gods for the opportunity to disappear. "Grover, come on!"
"What? But—" Grover began to protest.
"Give Ciaran the nozzle and come on!"
Grover deflated at her tone and muttered something under his breath that Lux couldn't catch. He handed Ciaran the hose and slipped away with Annabeth. This time, her brother stepped aside, leaving only Percy in their sight.
"Chiron had to break up a fight," Luke shouted so that he could be heard over the music. "Things are pretty tense here, Percy. Word leaked out about the Zeus-Poseidon standoff. We're still not sure how, probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound." Lux couldn't help but flinch at his choice of words. "Now the campers are starting to take sides. It's shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus."
Percy looked troubled, and how could Lux blame him? They were all stuck in something far greater than themselves.
"So what's your status?" Luke asked. "Chiron will be sorry he missed you."
Percy told him all the things about their quest that she had heard, but then he broached the topic of his dreams and how he had been haunted by an unknown voice reverberating deep from a gorge that seemed to fall straight through the Earth's core.
"I think Annabeth's right. That doesn't sound like the Lord of the Dead." Lux shuddered, unable to fathom what kind of being such a voice could belong to. Next to her, Luke was pensive, his eyes vacant as if he was deep inside his thoughts.
"I wish I could be there to help you make sense of it," Luke said. "We can't help much from here, I'm afraid. But listen, it has to be Hades. It had to be him who took the Master Bolt. He was there at Olympus at the winter solstice. I was chaperoning a field trip when we saw him."
"But Chiron said the gods can't take each other's magic items directly."
"That's true." Luke's face twisted. "Still...Hades has the Helm of Darkness. How could anybody else sneak into the throne room and steal the Master Bolt? You'd have to be invisible."
They all went silent, the implications of his words only hidden behind a thin veil.
"Oh, hey, I didn't mean Annabeth," he said to defend himself. "She and I have known each other forever. She would never. I mean, she's like a little sister to me."
Percy and Lux shared a look, knowing full well what the daughter of Athena would think of that description. Meanwhile, the music stopped completely to the blessing of their ears. A man screamed, and there was the sound of tires screeching on asphalt.
"You'd better go see what that was," Luke said. "Listen, are you wearing the flying shoes? I'll feel better if I know they've done you some good."
"Oh...uh, yeah!" Percy was looking too intently at Luke, staring almost unblinkingly.
"Really?" Luke didn't seem to notice. "They fit and everything?"
The mist was getting fainter, Percy becoming more of a blur before them.
"Water's shutting off," Ciaran said from the side. "Lux, you're sure everything's okay with you?"
"Don't worry, I'm fine! Good luck on the quest!"
"And take care of yourself out there in Denver," Luke said. "And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just—"
He didn't get the chance to finish as the message dissolved into fine, dewy particles.
Luke let out a sigh. "I'm glad at least they're doing all right." He swiveled around to Lux. "Are you sure you're doing better?"
"I'm all right, really. Thank you for getting me through that, by the way. I just..." She fiddled with her camp beads. "I really hate when people fight."
"It's been hard on everyone. And it's not helping that we're constantly reminded of what's going on." He pointed to the storm.
"I know." Lux spared a glance, just as a bolt of lightning struck the sea. "Do you really think we would go to war with each other?"
"I hope not. We argue, and there are rivalries and all, but I like to believe that deep down, we all care for each other, you know?"
"Yeah, I like to believe so, too." She let her necklace fall back to its place. "Speaking of which. Are you doing okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. I heard you tossing and turning in your sleep a couple of mornings now. You were mumbling something, and your face was all twisted up. You looked like you were having a nightmare." She stepped closer to him. "You know you could talk to me if something's going on, right Luke?"
His face was unreadable, and she couldn't believe it when she first caught sight of when his blue eyes turned cold, enough to send a wave of frost through her bones. But there was something else under that thin layer of ice, something that she recognized. It vanished as fast as it came, and warmth returned to him, reverting back to the Luke she had always known.
"It's nothing, Lux. I'm just stressed, that's all."
"Are you sure?" She entreated. "Because you look like you were in distress. Dreams have meaning for demigods, don't they?"
"You don't have to worry about it." He smiled reassuringly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I just haven't been sleeping well. A few more days then I'll be fine."
"But—"
"Just drop it," he said bristly, but then added gently as if recognizing his tone. "Please?"
"Okay," Lux relented, no matter how much she knew it would continue to nag her. "Sorry, I just want everything to go back to normal."
"They will." Luke patted her hair. "You'll see. Everything's going to go according to plan."
She believed his words, she really did. But a part of her was certain about what she saw being reflected in his eyes.
(It looked a lot like fear.)