[1] something new | pjo

xxxi. thirty one

THEY MADE IT A HUNDRED FEET BEFORE THEY WERE HOPELESSLY LOST.

The tunnel looked nothing like the one Percy and Daphne had stumbled into before. Now it was round like a sewer, constructed of red brick with iron barred portholes ever ten feet. Percy shined a light through one of the portholes out of curiosity, but he couldn't see anything. It opened into infinite darkness.

Daphne thought she heard voices on the other side, but it may have been just the cold wind. Annabeth tried her best to guide them. She had this idea that we should stick to the left wall.

"If we keep one hand on the left wall and follow it," she said, "we should be able to find our way out again by reversing course."

Unfortunately, as soon as she said that, the left wall disappeared. They found themselves in the middle of a circular chamber with eight tunnels leading out, and no idea how we'd gotten there.

"Um, which way did we come in?" Grover said nervously.

"Just turn around," Annabeth said.

They each turned toward a different tunnel. It was ridiculous. None of them could decide which way led back to camp.

"Left walls are mean," Tyson said. "Which way now?"

Annabeth swept her flashlight beam over the archways of the eight tunnels. As far as Daphne could tell, they were identical. "That way," she said.

"How do you know?" Percy asked.

"Deductive reasoning."

"So...you're guessing." Daphne said out loud. Not very sure to trust Annabeth.

"Just come on," Annabeth urged them.

The tunnel she'd chosen narrowed quickly. The walls turned to gray cement, and the ceiling got so low that pretty soon they were hunching over. Tyson was forced to crawl.

Grover's hyperventilating was the loudest noise in the maze. "I can't stand it anymore," he whispered. "Are we there yet?"

"We've been down here maybe five minutes," Annabeth told him.

"It's been longer than that," Grover insisted. "And why would Pan be down here? This is the opposite of the wild!"

They kept shuffling forward. Just when Daphne was sure the tunnel would get so narrow it would squish them, it opened into a huge room. She shined her light around the walls and said, "Whoa."

The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were grimy and faded, but I could still make out the colors—red, blue, green, gold. The frieze showed the Olympian gods at a feast. There was my dad, Poseidon, with his trident, holding out grapes for Dionysus to turn into wine. Zeus was partying with satyrs, and Hermes was flying through the air on his winged sandals. The pictures were beautiful, but they weren't very accurate. I'd seen the gods. Dionysus was not that handsome, and Hermes's nose wasn't that big. In the middle of the room was a three-tiered fountain. It looked like it hadn't held water in a long time.

Daphne wondered. Why does it looked familiar to her? Like she's have seen it before.

"What is this place?" I muttered. "It looks—"

"Roman," Daphne said. "Those mosaics area bout two thousand years old."

Annabeth looked at her. Surprised. "How do you know?"

Daphne shrugged, "I read sometimes," well, she can't told her that she have been in Roman military camp so she might have seen these pictures in one of the walls from their room.