ON THIS SPRING DAY
━━━━━ chapter eleven

━━━━━ THE BLACK ROCKS weren't kind. They were cold and unforgiving. Eventually, they did let Violet out—spitting her out in the dark tunnels of the Labyrinth, as if she left a bad taste.

               She wasn't sure how long she was trapped inside the rocks, it must've been a day. That was her best guess. And it spat her out in a cramped corridor that seemed to be below a busy street. She heard horns and the yells of everyday life, making her almost nostalgic for New York City.

               But thinking of New York City made her think of Percy, the days they spent wandering the city. The days Percy would tell her stories about his childhood, pointing out places he had fond memories of. It made her chest hurt, so she quickly shook the thoughts away.

               The bustle of city life continued over her head, making her stop and listen—for a moment of normalcy, to act as if she had a normal life, to pretend she was just another human, another human destined to live a boring life and die a meaningless death.

               It sounded ... amazing. The idea of being a nobody, of being able to blend in with the crowd. To never have people know her name, to never become someone to look up to. She never thought she'd feel that way, but here she was.

               She wasn't sure how long she sat—five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Maybe even an hour passed by, and she never knew. But she heard a rustle, the quick sound of wind, and a breeze passed her by.

               It was as quick as a rabbit. And it smelled sickly sweet, as sweet as spring. Lovely and warm, it wrapped around Violet, like a comforting mother's embrace. It made her long for home—whether that was Dahlia or Camp Half-Blood. Or maybe both.

               Get up, it seemed to be whispering to her. You can't stop now. Not now, not ever.

               And so, Violet stood up. On shaking legs, she used Larkspur to lighten the damp corridor. She thought she might've ended up in part of a city's sewer system, but it didn't look like that. It looked more earthy, with plants and fresh soil beneath her feet. Springs of wildflowers grew in the crevice where the wall and the floor met. They curled at her feet as she walked. They seemed to whisper to her, telling her which way to turn.

               I've finally lost it, Violet thought, turning left as a cluster of daisies curved in that direction. I think a bunch of harebells and daisies are guiding me—talking to me.

               The further she walked, the more flowers grew—rosemary, yarrow, thymes, valerians, pansies. It would've made Dahlia jealous to see how many flowers were growing in such abundance, especially in darkness. But it shouldn't have been possible, not down in the Labyrinth, not in darkness like this.

               A lily of the valley curled around Violet's calf, making her stop in her tracks. The green grass beneath her shoes started to curl around the soles of her sneakers, but she didn't take any mind, looking at something to her right.

               If the lily of the valley hadn't stopped her, she would've never noticed a separate pathway marked with oak tree branches reaching out from the dark. Curled around the branches were clusters of daffodils and asphodels.

               Wandering the Labyrinth by herself caused such deep-rooted nervousness in her. It was a rock in her stomach, a weight on her chest, this tightening in her throat, but watching this pathway almost made her forget all of that. It reminded her so much of the path Grover and Tyson separated and descended into. She didn't know why it called to her so much, but she wanted to find out.

               That curiosity is speaking for you, the breeze whispered to her.

               Violet straightened, gripping Larkspur tightly. "It's not speaking for me," she declared, her voice sounding strange to her. It echoed through the corridor.

               I really have gone crazy, she thought. I'm talking to the wind.

               Curiosity is fatal, the wind insisted. Look at Persephone—

               "And I'm not Persephone," Violet argued.

🌷

The pathway ringed with oak branches, daffodils, and asphodels changed before Violet knew it. It grew more industrial, the walls became grimy cement and the floors became well-worn brick. The sound of city life had long faded, and the only sound was the creaks and moans of the Labyrinth and the scraps of Violet's shoes against the bricks.

               She ignored every odd sound that whispered down the path. She ignored every shiver of fear, fighting every urge to glance over her shoulder. That was how people lost themselves to the maze, to madness. She just had to ignore it, she just had to keep moving forward.

               The spring breeze kept pushing her along too. It whispered a lot, but only so often would Violet be able to understand—Don't stop. Not yet. Stay wary. Beware curiosity. It seemed contradictory to her, telling her to keep moving forward but to not follow her curiosity, but Violet figured there could be worse messages ( such as, Everyone you love is dead. Have fun! which was a very real possibility that she didn't want to dwell on ). She stopped responding to the wind, missing the comfort of plants and flowers. They reminded her of her mom and were prettier to look at than this ugly brick.

               Eventually, the maze changed again. The walls changed to wood paneling, the kind in older ranches. And the floors changed to nasty carpet. She didn't want to think about the last time they had been vacuumed—if ever—so Violet hurried along, eventually losing track of the spring breeze behind her. It almost made her upset, to lose the last comforting thing in this horrible place, but she couldn't stop.

               Don't stop, the wind's message whispered across her mind.

               She didn't. Violet kept going, the fear eating away at her. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, it fought harder. She broke out into a run, the sound of her shoes slapping against the grimy carpet the loudest noise. Her heartbeat was faster than the tempo of her feet, but Violet swore she thought she heard a second pair of footsteps—faster, gaining.

               The fear gave her some sort of boost, and she nearly ran head-first into a wooden door. She had looked over her shoulder, losing the fighting battle to not to. And just in the nick of time, she turned back around to skid to a stop at the top of the carpeted stairs.

               Breathing heavily, she didn't waste a moment before opening and slamming the door shut. The small click! of the door lock wasn't any comfort either. And the realization she had just run into a room without checking for any danger. She stopped, listening for any movement, but her rapid breathing was the loudest thing.

               Slowly, she turned, holding Larkspur out—

               She gasped. She knew this room. This was the guest bedroom she and Annabeth had stayed in. In Geryon's ranch. Somehow, she had made it back to Triple G Ranch. It wasn't comforting, despite being familiar.

               The house was silent, except for the quiet shuffles on the first floor. As silently as she could, Violet crept out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The movement wasn't loud enough to be Geryon ( who she hoped was still stuck down in Tartarus, reforming ), nor loud enough to be Eurytion, and it was clumsy enough to be Orthus. She prayed to any gods listening to her that it was Nico.

               The living room was empty, and the front porch had no one on it, but the kitchen—

               "Nico!" she sighed in relief, grabbing his arm. "Thank the gods!"

               To finally see another person, especially one ( one of a few ) she wanted to see, lifted this heavy weight off her chest. The son of Hades jumped and flinched, smacking her hand away, and reached for his sword.

               But he stopped and stared. "Violet? Wha-what are you doing here?"

               "I—" She didn't know how to answer. She trusted Nico, for the most part, but she didn't even want to admit the truth to herself. "The quest went wrong. We, um, got separated."

               "All five of you?" Nico raised his eyebrows.

               She pursed her lips. "It's a long story. Nico, is there a place we can talk—in secret?"

🌷

"So, let me get this straight." Nico put his hand out, in a Stop motion. "You managed to find Hephaestus, he told you Do this for me and I'll help you find Daedalus, then Grover and Tyson split up because Grover was sure a path led to Pan—"

               "I offered to go with Grover," Violet added. "But Percy said I shouldn't go."

               Nico continued as if she hadn't spoken, "Then Percy ... what?"

               "I ..." Violet picked at the last remnant of her pink nail polish. "I—I don't know. I told you everything I know. Percy kiss—The telkhine nearly surrounded us, but these—rocks surrounded me. Encased me, like a shield. And then ... I heard Percy screaming like he was in pain. There was this big explosion, and then I got spit out of the Labyrinth's walls."

               The son of Hades watched her carefully. "And this—spring breeze led you here."

               "Kind of." She shrugged. "It told me to keep moving, so I did."

               "Smart." Nico raised his eyebrows. "Listening to wind."

               "Stop being a smartass." Violet frowned. "Look—we need to do something about this."

               "Do what?" he countered. "Try and some more spring breezes to see if they talk to you again? It's summer, Vi, in case you haven't noticed."

               "I know it's summer!" she snapped. "But ... there's someone else who might talk to me."

               "O-kay ..." Nico glanced around nervously. They sat at the edge of the farm, under the shade of a large tree. "Sounds ... like a good plan. Who are you talking about?"

               "Not who. What." Violet stood up, dusting off the back of her thighs. "We need to find our way back to Camp."

               "Camp Half-Blood?" Nico interjected. "No way! I'm not going back there."

               She frowned down at him. "Why not? Look, you can stay on the edges of Camp, and I'll go and see if she talks to me. I hate asking—does Minos still talk to you? Will he guide us back to Camp?"

               Nico looked nervous. "Violet, he ... You can't tell anyone this, but—yeah. He does still talk to me. He—he told me you guys were in danger, so that's why I was so surprised to see you." He licked his lips. "But I doubt he's gonna help me get back to Camp, especially with you here."

               She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "I thought the same thing ..." She frowned, kicking her foot against the dry dirt, knocking it into the air. "Could we, you know, shadow travel back there?"

               Immediately, Nico shook his head. "I can't get both of us back there. I probably couldn't even get myself back there alone."

               "But together," Violet countered, "maybe together we could."

               "And if we don't?"

               "Hopefully, wherever we do end up shadow traveling to isn't inside the Labyrinth. Then, we'll at least have a chance of navigating without needing dickbag Minos."

               "He's not gonna like you calling him that."

               Violet waved her hand dismissively. "He already doesn't like me."

🌷

It took two days to work up the nerve to try. And their best shot was doing it at night. Violet was pretty sure Eurytion was catching on to an uninvited guest staying around, but Violet managed to stay out of sight.

               She hoped.

               The two days of waiting gave her horrible amounts of time to think—about everything. About the quest, about her weird powers, the odd things happening, about her friends, about Percy ...

               Like she said, it was unwanted time to think. It's not that she didn't like thinking about Percy, it was just ... a lot happened the last time they were together. And she didn't avoid thinking about him because she was afraid he was dead, she knew that he wasn't. Violet knew the same way she knew Annabeth wasn't last winter. It was the same way she knew Bianca had died, too.

               But knowing he wasn't dead, but not knowing where he was, that was something she didn't like to think about. He was lost. And lost heroes ...

               She didn't bring it up to Nico, knowing he wouldn't want to entertain a conversation revolving around Percy. And to be honest, neither did Violet. Talking and thinking were very different—she could explain away her thoughts as anxiety, but when she spoke them aloud, that made them real, especially if someone else agreed with her.

               Or perhaps she just didn't want to speak it into existence.

               It didn't matter, because she didn't have time to dwell. She and Nico had to act—before they lost the night, before Eurytion acted on his suspicions, and before they both got lost in their nerves.

               "Remember," Nico said, shaking his hands out nervously. "Think of—"

               "Where we want to land," Violette finished for him. "I know."

               "I'm just reminding you."

               "But you're only making us both more nervous."

               He sighed, rolling out his shoulders to face the shadows. They were behind the ranch, during the dead of night, which was humid and hot, making Violet uncomfortable. Just in case things went wrong, they stole some food and water from the kitchen.

               "On three." He held up three fingers to Violet. "Think of the outskirts of Camp Half-Blood. One, two, three—"

               In unison, they stepped into the shadows of night. Immediately, Violet felt the effects, and her hold on Nico's hand tightened to the point of breaking bones. The familiar sensation of being dunked in ice water consumed her, chilling her blood and tensing her muscles.

               Violet stepped out as quickly as she stepped in, dragging Nico behind her. She kneeled over, shaking and exhausted. Nico bent at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees.

               "You okay?" he asked, breathing heavily.

               She shook her head. "Not really." She straightened, prickles of cold sweat beading at her hairline. "But I'll live."

               "Is it really that much harder to shadow travel now than it was in the winter?" Nico asked.

               Violet frowned. "I'm not sure about shadow traveling because I hadn't tried during winter, but ... I've told you it's harder to control it now than it was."

               "And the plants ..." he trailed off. "That path in the Labyrinth with the flowers ..."

               "Yeah," she sighed. "It's connected, but I don't know what it means."

               "Yet," Nico added. "We'll figure it out."

               Violet looked at him carefully. She knew Nico was trying to make her feel better, which felt odd considering the roles had always been reversed.

               She swallowed the bile in her throat and steeled her shaken nerves. She had to be stronger for Nico. He was just a kid, only ten.

               "C'mon." She patted his shoulder. "Night lasts for only so long."

               They had traveled into the dark part of the forest, and Violet had to help Nico through, who didn't know the place as she did.

               They marched through the grass, snapping branches beneath their feet. They kept their eyes out for any monsters that might be lingering, but the forest was eerily silent—it was almost like the forest knew they couldn't have any interruptions. It was scary, but almost comforting in a weird way. It was like the forest understood how important this was and cared.

               They reached the edge of the forest, the moon spilling light across Camp Half-Blood. Just enough light to let Violet see the ring of cabins, and she thought about her friends—Annabeth, AJ, Connor, and Travis. She knew how worried they must be, about her being gone.

               Nico frowned at her, noticing she was staring at the line of cabins. "Why aren't you telling them you're alive? Something to let them know?"

               "Because if I told anyone, they would tell Chiron, who would then tell my mom. They would never let me do this. They would demand to know what happened. And I ..." Her eyebrows pinched together. "I really don't want to tell my mom anything."

               Because I don't want to see her disappointed face. Because I can't really trust her, not completely.

               "You never told me exactly why you wanted to come back to Camp," said Nico.

               "The Oracle. I wanted to see if she'd give me answers."

               The son of Hades frowned. "That thing that spewed green mist last winter? That's the Oracle?"

               Violet nodded. "Stay here. If you hear harpies, hide. And if I don't come back in, like, thirty minutes, leave."

               "I wanna go with you." Nico shot his hand out, but she gave him a look.

               "Stay here," she insisted. "With two of us moving, it'll be easier to catch us. Besides, I've hung out with the Stolls enough to be pretty good at sneaking."

               It was eerie running across Camp Half-Blood in the dead of night. What's even weirder is there seemed to be no sound—besides the crunch of grass beneath her feet, that is. It made her skin prickle and caused the warning signs to blare in her mind. She couldn't even hear the faint flapping of any harpy wings.

               She ignored it, sneaking up the front steps to the Big House. Living there for three years, she knew exactly which board would creak, and which wouldn't. Living in Cabin Eleven really had come in handy—the children of Hermes's bad habits bled over to her. Connor even insisted one time that she learned how to pick locks. ( "Never know when you'll need to know this! he insisted to her, wagging a finger in her face. )

               And he was right. Though Violet would never tell him that. It'd only make his head even bigger.

               The front parlor was quiet. She carefully avoided especially creaky floorboards, looking like she was trying to perform jumps rather than sneaking along. She got to the base of the stairs, and suddenly paused. Chris Rodriguez, she remembered. She remembered how Minos had turned him insane for exploring the Labyrinth.

               For Luke and Kronos, she also remembered.

               She didn't climb down to see if Chris was still around, and instead, started the trek up the four flights of stairs until she reached the last stair. A wooden ladder led up from the top of the Big House's staircase. And Violet faltered right before she started climbing.

               Suddenly, everything she was doing felt like the stupidest thing ever. All of it. Exploring the Labyrinth with Nico. Trying to find the Underworld. Lying to everyone, even herself. What she was doing now.

               How could the Oracle help? Give her some freaky vision that was supposed to give Violet answers?

               Yeah, that was exactly what happened.

               The ladder creaked under her weight, and she climbed quickly before the false confidence she instilled in herself vanished for good. She repeated to herself over and over that what she was doing was right, that it was all in her head, and that everything would be fine.

               But the attic did not make Violet feel fine. Old hero trophies over the years were stacked everywhere—dented shields, pickled spoils of wars from whatever monster that had been killed, rusted armor coated in blood. Typical demigod stuff, just old and with history. Well, that was demigod stuff anyway. It didn't give Violet the fuzzy feeling of butterflies, that's for sure.

               And looking at the mummified corpse of the Oracle in the dark, creepy attic made Violet's nauseous feeling even worse.

               By a dark window, with moonlight pouring in, was a three-legged stool that must've been carved during the thirteen colonies. Sat on the stool was the Oracle—a nasty, shriveled female mummy in a disgusting tie-dyed dress. ( And the dress wasn't disgusting only for the fact it was just completely ugly and out of style. ) The gaunt face stared back at Violet, unmoving and unwavering. Tufts of black hair clung to the skull, and glassy eyes stared out of her leathery face.

               Violet's skin crawled, and every cell in her body was screaming to run back to Nico. She couldn't help but remember the green mist that curled across snowy grounds. The mist, the spirit of the Oracle, that lived on in this mummy. Even, according to Percy, some fog would gush out of her mouth and create weird shapes.

               She didn't know what was worse—receiving nothing from the Oracle, or the possibility some green mist would come pouring out and create shapes that spelled out the death of all Violet's loved ones.

               "Um ..." She swallowed. "Hi."

               That was stupid, she thought. Her voice rippled across the room, breaking the sound of her rapid breathing. She shook her head, clearing her throat. "Um, Oracle of Delphi, I came to you for, um, answers." She added, "If you have any. Which I'm sure you do. You can see the future. And stuff."

               Violet talked a lot when she was nervous, alright? It was better than her being stuck with her thoughts because gods know where those would lead her. ( Spoiler: nowhere good. )

               The Oracle didn't do anything. And for anyone facing a mummified corpse, that would've been great, but Violet had come for answers. She sighed, frowning at the mummy. She tried not to get annoyed, in part fear that the Oracle would know and curse her or something ( if that was even possible ).

               "Do I need to, like, say a magic word?" she asked. "Please? Barney said that was a magic word."

               The mummy didn't move. She didn't like magic words.

               Violet pursed her lips. "So, this was for fuck all ..." She tried not to jeer at the Oracle, or to flip her middle finger at the mummy, but fighting the urges was hard. She dug her fingernails into her palms, turning around. She wasted her time, energy, and effort on something that didn't work. It shouldn't have stung as much as it did. For months, Violet continuously ran into deadends, but now it felt much more ... upsetting.

               Upsetting in the way more was on the line. It wasn't just her and Nico looking for answers, now there was so much more happening. Percy was—missing. Grover and Tyson were probably somewhere back in the Labyrinth, all on their own. Annabeth was surely grieving for all four of the people she brought along on this quest, blaming herself that it was her fault entirely.

               It wasn't just Nico and Violet now. Unintentionally, they had dragged people into this charade—this wild goose chase.

               She kicked a wooden chest in frustration, and something clattered to the floor. The sound wobbled, like thin metal being shaken. Slowly, Violet looked at the sword that had crashed to the floor. The sword was bent in half, like someone was trying to make it into a metal boomerang. The sword was as dark as midnight, looking like the same metal Nico's sword was made out of—

               Elain Nevitt, a chilling voice whispered across the room.

               Violet flinched, whirling around to face the mummy. It hadn't moved—thank the gods—but she was certain the Oracle had spoken. As quick as light, she grabbed the fallen sword, and nearly vaulted out of the trapdoor to the attic. She took the sword with her, the black leather on the hilt burning ever so slightly as she ran out of the Big House.

               Nico met her on the front porch, breathing heavily. He looked relieved to see her.

               "Why are you here?" She sounded harsher than she meant to, but was too freaked out to take it back.

               "I heard you" —he paused, taking a deep breath— "yelling. Elain—Elain Nevitt. Who is that?"

               A chill crawled up Violet's spine. "I never yelled. C'mon." She grabbed his arm, but Nico shook his head.

               "Who yelled, then?"

               "No one."

               "Who's Elain Nevitt?"

               "No one."

               "Violet." Nico frowned at her, shaking off her hand. "Something happened up there, what?"

               The daughter of Eros glanced back at the house. She licked her lips. "Elain Nevitt has something to do with it. And I keep seeing her die."

               Nico sent her a cautious look. "You ... what?"

               "In this one dream I keep having," it tumbled out of Violet's mouth, "I keep seeing her—Elain—killing Ms. Aarden, a monster that attacked me a couple of years back."

               "Oh." He blinked at her. "So you keep having the same dream of this Elain Nevitt girl killing Ms. Aarden, who was a monster."

               "Yeah." Violet nodded. "But—not really. I only learned her name this summer. The dream was really vague when I first saw it. It's like a trickle of information. I didn't tell you earlier because," she shrugged, "I didn't know enough to tell you."

               "So, how are you so sure it's Ms. Aarden she's fighting?"

               Violet looked off. "Her voice."

               "Really?"

               She glared. "I can't help it, okay? S'not my fault the monster's shrouded in darkness."

               Nico looked like he wanted to ask about the darkness, but only shook his head. "And why did I hear you yelling Elain Nevitt when you didn't?"

               "If I knew that, would we be having this conversation?" she countered.

               "Probably."

               Violet grumbled under her breath, something about annoying kids.

               "Where'd you get the sword?" asked Nico.

               "The attic."

               The son of Hades frowned at the top of the Big House. "What's up in the attic?"

               "The Oracle." Violet shivered, thinking back to what she just witnessed in the dusty room. The lifeless eyes and the chilling voice.

               "You keep the Oracle in the attic?"

               "There's only so many places you can keep a mummified Oracle, Nico."

               "The ground," he answered easily. "A casket. A grave."

               Violet glared. "Nico!"

               He raised his hands. "Just saying."

               "Well, stop saying!" Violet shook the sword at him angrily. "When I knocked this over, the Oracle whispered Elain Nevitt."

               "Yeah, 'cause it says Elain Nevitt on the tag," Nico pointed out helpfully.

               Violet paused, finally taking a good look at the leather hilt. Tied around the base with a thin rope was a brown tag. The first line, STYGIAN IRON SWORD. Below that, FOUND IN CANADA. And lastly, ELAIN NEVITT, DAUGHTER OF PERSEPHONE, 1918.

🌷

"The fuck does this mean?"

               Nico seemed to have noticed the whole DAUGHTER OF PERSEPHONE line too. He paled. "Oh my gods ..."

               Violet paced nervously around the porch, unable to look at the sword. Questions kept flooding her mind—Persephone's cheated? Elain's a byproduct of cheating, and then kills Ms. Aarden, who then confuses me for Elain, why? How? We look nothing alike! Why was the sword in Canada? In 1918? What the hell happened all those years ago? Why does it even fucking matter? Matter enough to haunt me like a ghost for half a year?

               And the cycle continued. And it continued some more.

               Nico grabbed the Stygian Iron sword, examining it. It did look like the one Elain used, just bent in half. He looked at the tag again, glancing up at Violet. "Vi—"

               "Persephone's fucking cheated on Hades?" she blurted. "Is she stupid? That's Hades, Nico!"

               "You're talking about my dad, you know ..."

               She ripped the sword out of Nico's hands. "Why is it Stygian Iron? No one but you uses Stygian Iron."

               "That's because only children of the Underworld use it," he explained.

               The Underworld. Maybe this was their key to getting inside, to finally find solid answers. Not answers that only raised more questions.

               "We need to go there."

               Nico frowned. "You don't plan on telling my dad, do you? That Persephone had a kid? Are you stupid?"

               Violet chewed on her bottom lip. "Maybe," she admitted. "But ..." She sighed, looking down at the tag. ELAIN NEVITT, it read. DAUGHTER OF PERSEPHONE.

               "You know what? Maybe I am a little stupid. C'mon."

🌷 SEPT. 19TH, 2023 / this chapter wasn't meant to stop there but it got super long so i split it in half

so next part in a couple hours maybe?? (don't hold me to that lol)

so a lot is happening this chapter and a lot more is going to happen next chapter ,, so fun!!

violet or something tbh

anyways,, thoughts?? opinions??

(not edited and not proofread)