Alstroemerias {Percy Jackson}

20

The four flights of stairs led to a green trapdoor.

Percy carefully pulled the cord, revealing a wooden ladder that would get him the rest of the way into the basement. He didn't know exactly why he felt so nervous about coming up here. Maybe it had to do with his earlier inquiry about whether or not someone lived in the basement, which led to the conversation about quests with Annabeth, which then led to him realizing that he was probably going to die.

It wasn't something he liked to think about too often.

Percy slowly popped his head out of the trapdoor, taking in the attic's appearance. The warm air smelled like mildew and rotten wood, and oddly enough, reptiles. The entire place was filled to the brim with junk.

He held his breath as he climbed in.

He looked around, examining the objects that all seemed to be spoils of war, or unwanted souvenirs, before tearing his eyes away and looking toward the window. A mummy, dressed in a tie-dye sundress and lots of beads, was sitting on a wooden tripod stool. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her long black hair was held back by a headband. Percy felt like she could easily stare into his soul and curse him for the rest of eternity.

The feeling only increased when she sat up on her stool and opened her mouth.

Green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils. A hissing sound filled the room. Percy tried to get away, but as he stumbled toward the trapdoor, it slammed shut. A voice filled his head, littering in one ear, and coiling around his brain.

I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.

The dark haired boy forced himself to to take a deep breath before answering. He knew that the mummy wasn't really alive, the power housed inside was what had control over her. The presence felt like that of the fates, rather than Mrs. Dodds or the Minotaur. It was ancient, powerful, and most definitely not human in any way shape or form. Well, maybe not the form. The mummy's presence didn't feel evil, and it didn't particularly want him dead, but he knew that it wouldn't be that kind either.

He finally mustered up the courage to ask, "What is my destiny?"

The mist swirled moire thickly, suddenly revealing an image of four men sitting around a table playing cards. The faces slowly become clearer. It was Smelly Gabe and his buddies.

Percy clenched his fist, reminding himself that it was an illusion made of mist.

Gabe turned toward the boy, and spoke in the rasping voice of the oracle.

You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.

The man on his left continued in the same voice.

You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned.

The guy on the left threw in three poker chips before speaking.

A mistake the sea will make and a small sacrifice you must take.

Finally, Eddie, the man who worked as Percy's building supervisor delivered the last lines.

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend. And you shall fail to save what matters most in the end.

The figures began to dissolve. At first, Percy was too stunned to say or do anything, but as the serpent of green mist slithered back into the mummy's mouth, he called out, "Wait! What do you mean? What friend? What will I fail to save?"

The tail of the mist made its way back into the mummy's mouth, and she slumped back against the wall. Her mouth closed once more, as if it had never been open.

The attic went silent.