~The Tunnels~

Percy’s tunnel sooner grew smaller, he had to turn sideways to avoid squishing himself. He had no doubt that what lay at the end of his passage was a challenge set for him, and him alone.

The concrete was smooth without any indentations or marks. If the tunnel split like this, Percy wasn’t sure he could find his way back. Unless this was something like the Labyrinth, in which case it didn’t matter. He was already lost in a series of tunnels in who knows where.

A sea breeze drifted through the tunnel. Percy couldn’t tell if that was a close ocean or his natural aroma. He often been told, usually by Piper, that he always smelled like the ocean. But the scent was unnaturally strong, and he couldn’t sense and bodies of water nearby.

Eventually the tunnel opened up into a room that was just big enough for someone to lay down in without touching any walls. There was no doors, no windows, and nothing that could mark the chamber as extraordinary in any way. All that was there was a small fountain that gently trickled.

Percy was about to turn back and wait for his friends in the other room when he found the passage he came from completely blocked up like there was never a tunnel there.

‘So it is like the Labyrinth,’ Percy muttered, his voice echoing impressively around the enclosed space. ‘Great.’

Percy suddenly realized that if he was in a shut off room, no oxygen would get in and he would fail to breath much longer. He estimated as best he could (but he was no Athena kid) and figured he had less than a day’s worth of air.

He sighed, ‘This better be worth it.’

Percy eyed the water. There was something about it that was strange. But it was his father’s element, and the place he felt safest-apart from camp. There couldn’t possibly be anything bad about it.

The son of Poseidon dipped his hand into the cool spring water.

Suddenly, Percy was hit with a wave of nausea. His head spun and his vision blurred. He fell to his knees, blinking spots out of his eyes. He closed his eyes for just a moment and when he opened them, he was on a barren battlefield.

In front of him was someone he knew well. Her blond hair mattered and her grey eyes lifeless, Percy choked. Annabeth was dead.

He looked at the bloodied knife in his hands and cried.

Annabeth would’ve loved to spend time admiring the structure and architecture of the tunnel, but sadly she had no such luxury. It was imperative that she saw this through.

Though it was hard to stay focused on the task when the swirling patterns and intricate designs simply begged for attention.

Annabeth could swear the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the passage. The ones Percy’s mom made, and then passed the recipe onto Annabeth’s stepmom. They smelled great.

Focus, she scolded herself. You have a job.

One of the hardest things about being an Athena child was that she had to set an example. When your mother is the goddess of wisdom, people tend to turn to you for advice.

Any and all thoughts were jolted from Annabeth’s head as she reached the end of the tunnel.

The end room was tiny, only a few feet squared.  But what caught Annabeth’s eye was the model of a grand, marble temple at the back of the room. It was a replica of a design that as far as she knew was still in a locked box underneath her bed. Only Annabeth knew the combination to it and no one could break into the box, thanks to the Hephaestus cabin.

‘Couldn’t hurt to touch it?’ she asked aloud.

Annabeth reached out, determine to bring her dream to reality. As soon as her fingers came into contact, the world tipped and her legs turned to jelly.

Blinking hard, she suddenly found herself in the dark. And in front of her was … her. And another her, and another and another.

‘Hello,’ she spun around, the other hers mimicking the movement. ‘Is anybody there?’

No one responded. The silence was practically screaming her ears, taunting the very soul out of her.

‘Hello?’ her voice was shriller and definitely more scared. She had never felt so alone.

Grover was terrified to say the least. He hated underground, he hated being separated from his friends, and he hated pollution. But, the last one sort of didn’t apply to this situation.

The mud surrounding him felt familiar, like home. But it hovering above his head only reminded him that he was underground and the tunnel could come crashing down around him at any moment. Mud flakes kept dropping down on his head like a cruel parody of rain.

The scent that drifted through the tunnel smelled like pine leaves and fresh dew fall.

‘Juniper,’ he whimpered, remembering the suspicious red substance on the wall in the first room and how Percy covered his leg cautiously.

The tunnel came to an end not soon enough for Grover’s liking. To him it was ten minutes of pure Hades. And he should know, he’s been there.

In the small room Grover found at the end, there was a tree. Grover couldn’t remember which type of tree, or even if it was a real tree. All he knew was that he wanted to feel it’s rough bark under his hands.

As soon as he lay a hand on the tree trunk, he felt dizzy. Falling back on his furry hindquarters and staggering into a mud wall that wasn’t there a moment ago, Grover’s vision tipped until he was standing in the middle of a raging forest fire.

No more than ten feet away, Juniper stood screaming and slowly disintegrating as her tree burned and crumbled to ashes. Dryads everywhere were dying. Pollution reigned and the earth was dying.

And Grover, Lord of the Wild, Chosen One of Pan, was powerless to stop it.

Frank knew why he got the brick tunnel, and he didn’t like it one bit.

In Franks head, Mars yelled at him, giving him not-so-important advice, boring history lessons and a general headache.

But he did get one thing out of the war god; his sense of duty and sacrifice was what held the group together. They were the bricks, and he was the cement; without him, they would all come tumbling down.

Frank hated being relied upon. Hazel had often relied upon him and he’d failed her. She could be dead for all he knew. Frank would never forget that.

The tunnel was so plain that Frank felt an unexplainable desire to paint the walls, or at least open the passage up to let some air in.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take much more, the tunnel opened up to a slightly better tiny room. Yippee.

On a pedestal in front of him was a bowl. Frank knew what he’d find inside, but he still didn’t like it. Following the instructions of the ever present war god, he touched one finger to the wet cement and dropped like a sack of rocks.

When he regained his senses, everyone he’d ever known stood in front of him; his mother, his grandmother, Hazel, the rest of the seven, Nico, Reyna, Coach Hedge, Grover, Juniper, Travis and Connor, Rachel, his half-sister Clarisse. Everyone.

And they all said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

‘We hate you!’

Piper wanted Jason. Or perhaps Leo. Or maybe even Annabeth. Pretty much anyone who would be acceptable company in a long wooden tunnel.

All that motivated Piper was the smell of her father’s pumpkin soup. Before he was famous, and whenever Piper was sick, he would make her pumpkin soup to make her feel better. It was a reminder of the better days.

That was all that drove Piper forward.

There was wood, wood, and (what do ya know?) even more wood. The tunnel went on for an eternity until Piper’s feet felt sore. On any other occasion, she would’ve complained to someone about it. But there was no one to complain to.

At last she reached the end and found herself in a small room. Piper instantly felt claustrophobic and turned to run out, only to find the passage sealed off with wood (more!?).

Staring back at her was herself, an silvery mirror reflecting a pale and changed girl, the magic of Cupid’s lost bow draining the magic that was what she lived for; love.

Piper reached out to the reflection, determined to help that girl. When their fingers met, Piper felt herself grow weak and collapsed to her knees, her eyes closing. When she opened them again, she was back at the Wilderness School.

She was surrounded by the ‘popular girls’ that always made her snort with laughter whenever they walked by. They all wore perfect makeup and stunning clothes, which Piper found strange. Looking down, she found herself in rags.

Shouldn’t it be the other way around? She thought.

They were soon joined by her friends and her father. They took one look at her clothes and sneered at her, mocking her. Piper stuffed her fists in her pockets and screamed.