CHAPTER ONE

W E  A R E  T H E  H O L L O W  M E N

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The world was shrouded with darkness and agony, and it coated the skin of those unfortunate enough to still be alive. Those whose voices had been swallowed by the darkness, but their miserable lives persisted forward.

The girl knew that her life was miserable, that everything she had gone through ever since she woke up that first time down here, was the definition of misery. Her life was one crafted from pain and shadows, but she had long ago made her peace with that.

She didn't know her name. She had been called many things down here, in this damned pit; Demigod, Wisdom's Daughter, Annabeth, Hero of Olympus. But she had learned long ago to never trust so much as a syllable from the mouths of those who kept her here.

Someone was crying. Soft whimpers that were undeniably the product of someone attempting to suffocate the cries through pressing a hand to their mouth. But the silence was thick beneath the ground, and even the softest of noises was heard. The girl bit her lip, but said nothing to the crying person. Everyone down here had cried; it was the only coping mechanism that existed. There was no way to end the torture, only cry before, after, and during it.

But crying meant dehydration, and there was a limited water supply. The girl didn't cry when she was left alone, and she tried not to cry during the hours of torture. But she had been down here the longest; not everyone had grown as accustomed to this life as she had.

Part of her wondered if she had been born down here. This was all that she knew, all that she remembered, so who was to say that it wasn't the truth? But the girl could remember things, sometimes, things that she had no recollection of seeing. Like the Sun shining onto a green world, or a wide expanse of ocean, or a place even darker than the one she was trapped in now. The girl enjoyed thinking about the first two places, but the third always found her in the worst of her nightmares.

"Shut up," a voice hissed through the darkness. The girl jumped slightly, but she knew it wasn't directed at her. The whimpered crying continued. "Shut up," the voice repeated again. The girl frowned, but remained silent.

No one bothered her in the corner that she had long ago claimed. It was an unspoken rule, that the corner belonged to her, and no one else was welcomed to step foot into it. That rule was respected by those trapped here, but her captors did not care about the survival skills of the damned; they followed their own laws, all of which did not concern her opinion. The only time someone that was not her stepped into the corner was when they came to drag her away. The bottom of the wall was marred with scratches; the girl carved a new one every time she woke up. She had no way of knowing how many hours had passed each time she opened her eyes, but it was the only way to keep track of the time that passed while trapped here. She ran her hand (the one that was not currently broken) over the marks, tracing the memorized grooves with the tips of her fingers. They provided solace, the only kind that the girl had ever known.

She craved warmth. She craved light. She craved the open expanse of the sky. She craved the opportunity to leave this place, if only for a minute, to experience something other than the eternal darkness that birthed only pain.

Her left hand twinged in pain, and the girl cradled it closer to her chest. It had been broken three wake-ups ago, and she could feel it had long since swelled past the size it should be. There was nothing she could do but hope that she would be left alone.

The warm body pressed against her shifted slightly, most likely attempting to get comfortable on the stone ground. The girl frowned, and silently willed her body to become soft, to not be all bones and awkward angles. The other body didn't seem to mind, and slowly, she could feel arms wrapping around her middle.

The girl had been along for so long. It had been a normal day, full of darkness and despair, but everyone was alert as soon as the door screeched open. No one bothered to walk in, and instead, a child was shoved inside before the door slammed loudly behind her. No one dared move closer to the child, who was sniffling softly. The girl's response had been immediate; the only time she ever moved was when she was summoned to leave the cellar, but that day, she stalked across the room, and escorted the child to her corner.

"What's your name?" the girl had whispered to the child, not expecting an answer. Very few down here bothered to remember their name.

But the child had wiped the tears from her dark eyes, and stared up at the girl, a solemn expression decorating her face. "Esperanza," she responded, a lisp making the "s" sound more like "th".

Since then, Esperanza was the girl's to protect and watch over. She shared her food with her, always making sure that the six-year-old received enough. No one else in the cellar seemed to care that the child was far too young to be trapped down there, but the girl was determined to protect Esperanza, especially from their captors.

As if they could hear her thoughts, there was a loud screeching noise, signaling that the door would soon open. Silently, as if they had been trained, everyone sitting in the cellar shifted away from the door. Even the whimpered crying had ceased, most likely out of fear. The noise had awoken Esperanza, and she squeezed the girl's hand tightly. The girl returned the gesture, and situated her body so that Esperanza was between her and the wall. It wasn't much, but it was the most protection that she could provide. For a moment, there was nothing but anxious silence, penetrated only by the breathing of over a dozen forgotten souls. Each person praying to any dead god that it would not be them escorted over the threshold.

Then, the door opened, painful artificial light cascading into the room. The girl winced, and shielded her eyes; she wasn't foolish enough to close them. Her eyes readjusted, and she squinted at the silhouettes walking into the cellar.

There were three this time, which was never good news. One of the silent one-eyed lackeys guarded the door, his mere size more than enough to convince the prisoners not to so much as lift a finger in attempts to escape. The other appeared to be a girl, with silky long hair and warm skin that seemed to glow in the harsh lighting. She was unfamiliar, but that meant nothing to the girl; there seemed to be an infinite amount of monsters trapping her here.

It was the man in the middle that scared her the most. Dolos, the one who seemed to be the most in charge here. He was the one who took people away and returned them battered and bruised. He was the one who had broken her hand, and laughed when she screamed from the pain. He was a soulless monster, one that she dreamed of killing.

He stood there, silently scanning the room, searching for the next victim. The survivors, the prisoners, the damned, they sat there and waited. No one so much as breathed.

His eyes fell onto the girl, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Dolos grinned, and the air felt to be charged with electricity. He pointed at her from across the room, and all the eyes turned to find who his next victim was. She could feel the relief; it was heavy and loud, but she couldn't blame them. How many times had she mouthed a prayer of thanks each time that it wasn't her escorted through the door? But, more than anything, she was relieved that it wasn't Esperanza.

She might have been damned, but she still had her pride. She no longer screamed and cried, requiring multiple monsters to drag her out of the room. The girl squeezed Esperanza's hand thrice before silently stood up, ignoring the cries of agony from her cramped joints, and walked across the room, careful to avoid stepping on anyone. She could feel the eyes following her movements as she struggled not to limp, struggled to keep her head high and gaze even as she met Dolos's.

But none of that was strange; she had grown accustomed to it. What was strange was the look that the new girl was giving her. Something like shock or relief or joy spread across her face. Her eyes were wide and shining, grinning.

She ignored it, ignored the new girl entirely. For all she knew, the new girl was just another of Dolos's many tricks, and the last thing that she wanted to do was fall into it. It was best to stay ignorant, to stay safe, to act like the girl didn't look the slightest bit familiar. That only meant danger, and there was already more than enough of that going around.

Dolos wore a wide, sickening grin, which she ignored. He held his arm out towards the door, mockingly beckoning her to walk through it. The girl yearned to turn around, to make sure that Esperanza was still safe. She hated leaving her alone, even for a short amount of time. But the girl complied silently, feeling the gaze of the prisoners she left behind press against her back. They were all prisoners, but that was extent of the relationship; it was too dangerous to make friends here, excluding Esperanza.

She walked out of the crowded cellar, somewhat grateful to exercise her legs; they had the habit of cramping up during the long, dark hours that she was trapped sitting in the cellar. She walked free, with no one forcing her down the hall, but freedom was just an illusion that Dolos used to mock her situation. She was trapped, and she knew it, so she would never attempt to escape.

Besides, he had made an example out of those who tried to leave. Their corpses were delivered back to the cellar, and they sat there until the smell became unbearable for the guards.

Dolos' breath was heavy against her neck, but she ignored the uncomfortable sensation in favor of focusing on placing each foot in front of the other, each step full of deliberate caution. The new girl was walking close, too close; her arm grazing the other girl's skin. It was curious and slightly concerning; the girl recognized that touch only meant pain, unless it was coming from a child.

The girl found herself relying on muscle memory to take over as the hallway grew smaller. There was a door at the end of the corridor, and it was there that the pain happened. The girl was scared of it, but she would never admit that.

"We just have a few questions for you," said Dolos, sounding far too excited. The girl winced, but did not respond. Questions were never good. The girl didn't have the answers to their questions, but that never stopped the hurting. Nothing ever did.

The girl reached out to open the door, grateful to feel the wave of numbness fall over her. She twisted the knob, and the door swung open easily, nothing at all like the one trapping her in the cellar. She stepped into the room, feeling Dolos and the new girl slid in behind her before the door closed once more, the silent guard standing outside of it. That was preferable; the girl didn't enjoy an audience to her suffering.

Dolos pressed a hand into her back, and she flinched at the touch. Either he didn't care or notice because he remained silent, navigating her to the single chair that was in the room. She hated that chair. She hated the chains attached to her, chains that kept her locked into place while Dolos hurt her. But she didn't fight as he directed her to sit in it, didn't fight as he wrapped the chains around her limbs, securing her arm to face the ceiling. Dread coiled in her stomach like a scared snake, and she wanted nothing more than to return to the cellar.

The girl flinched when Dolos spoke. "Drew, dear, you can either assist me, or you can watch. I know this is your first time; I don't want you getting nervous."

The girl was ashamed of the relief that flooded her veins when she realized that he was not addressing her. He called the girl "Drew" and said that this was her first time, securing the girl's belief that Drew was new.

The girl caught Drew staring at her, and was quick to lower her gaze once more. Submission was preferred to rebellion, and hopefully, Dolos would appreciate her willingness to be obedient.

Drew's gaze was heavy on the girl as she said, "I think I'll just watch this time around, get used to the ropes and all."

The girl caught herself about to frown, and forced down the urge to show any kind of expression on her face. It wasn't that Drew's voice was familiar, it was that she carried a foreign accent that she had never heard before.

Dolos shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The girl felt her chin begin to wobble as Dolos grabbed at her arm. There was no point trying to fight it; the tears were inevitable just as the pain was. But she could feel that welcoming escape creep onto her, that distant feeling of nothingness settle over her bones.

She didn't even feel it as Dolos ran a knife down her arm in a perfectly straight line. It was like she was seeing everything from another perspective. She could see herself cry, she could see Dolos with the knife, but everything felt distant and muffled, as if she were underwater. It was better this way, even if the pain would find her in the darkness of the cellar later, even if the memories would haunt her dreams.

It was difficult to hear Dolos' words, and the girl found that she didn't want to listen. So, she closed her eyes, and allowed the strange absence to fill her completely.

The girl didn't know how much time had passed, only that she was being shoved to her feet. She blinked and stumbled, pain shooting from her right arm.

"Worthless," Dolos was muttering to himself as he cleaned the blood from his blade. "Completely worthless."

It was over, then. The girl wanted to smile, but then again, there was no reason to. No matter how many times it ended, it always started again. It was an endless cycle, a vicious loop that had no chance of ending.

The girl felt a pair of soft hands steady her, and she found Drew only inches away from her face. "It's okay," the girl said in her strange voice, and the girl immediately felt soothed.

But the comfort was quick to evaporate as Dolos shoved her out of the room, completely apathetic to her new injuries. The girl stumbled down the hall, back to the dark cellar. She didn't miss how Dolos was repeating the word "Olympus" over and over as she was escorted back to her home, nor how Drew was keeping close, her fingers brushing the girl's back as if she expected her to fall. But the girl didn't fall; she waited for the silent guard to open the cellar door, and she walked back to her corner, feeling the empty gaze of the prisoners settle onto her for a brief second before returning to whatever sleep they could find.

The girl found her way to the corner in the dark, careful not to sit on Esperanza. The young girl shuffled to sit up, and the girl could see her shining brown eyes in the light from the still open door.

"Are you okay, Mana?" Esperanza whispered weakly, careful to keep her voice soft as the door slammed closed.

The girl smiled at the nickname; for the longest time, Esperanza had called her hermana, dubbing the girl as her sister. Over time, it had shortened to Mana, and that was the only name that the girl appreciated hearing.

"Yes," she whispered in response, feeling a tear slide from her eye. But it was dark; Esperanza wouldn't see. "Go to sleep."

The girl allowed Esperanza to wrap her arms around her, and soon, her breathing evened out. The girl released a small sigh of relief, ignoring the blood trickling from the open cuts on her arm. She laid in the dark silence, with the sleeping girl held tightly in her arms.

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author's note

wow. that turned out way different from the first book. i hope that you enjoyed the first chapter of the revised version of blurred! i cannot tell you how many times i wrote "annabeth" before deleting it; this whole forgotten identity thing is harder than it looks. sorry for not posting sooner; my internet hasn't been the most reliable throughout quarantine. i hope everyone is safe out there and washing their hands and all that good shit. expect another update soon!