𐌙/𐌍 Ᏽ𐌵𐌀𐌋𐌄 & 𐌕𐋅𐌄 Ᏽ𐌐𐌄𐌀𐌕 𐌌𐌙𐌕𐋅𐌔 ¹

Chapter 21

Twenty-One
𖧷

Way Too Functional Fleece

  That afternoon was one of the happiest I’d ever spent at camp, which maybe goes to show, you never know when your world is about to be rocked to pieces.

  Grover announced that he’d be able to spend the rest of the summer with us before resuming his quest for Pan. His bosses at the Council of Cloven Elders were so impressed that he hadn’t gotten himself killed and had cleared the way for future searchers, that they granted him a two-month furlough and a new set of reed pipes. The only bad news: Grover insisted on playing those pipes all afternoon long, and his musical skills hadn’t improved much. He played “YMCA,” and the strawberry plants started going haywire, strawberry vines wrapped around our feet and ankles like they were trying to strangle us alive.

  Situation on godly family didn’t arrive in any sort of way, magical, prophecial, dreamy, nor physical. I was glad no quest had to be done for the time, I really just needed an energy drink and some good old hyper fixation without any bathroom breaks. And a

  The only really sad thing that happened was when Tyson had to go to an internship underwater for the summer, and he didn't even eat dinner.

  My night wasn't as restlese as it had been in the past few nights, I could sleep well in my own bed, without the crushing weight of a whole life-sized Annabeth Chase on top of me.

  But my dream was pointless.

  On the hall of seemingly endless doors, rose a new floor, with stairs that followed the circular walls and stopped right in front of a cracked open door, behind it, more dozens of different sized and colored doors, most of them weren't even made out of materials doors used to be made of. One of them was literally a patch of shatered red tainted glass piled on top of each other and with a wooden handle to look like a door.

  I climbed the steps, each of them had a different set of letters written on them, but none of them had a real word, just random colored letters without meaning. The room was completely madness.

  When I reached the first door, I pushed it open, slowly. Behind it, rested a laying body of an old friend ... Or rather, an old lover.

  I couldn't make out his face, but I was sure that was him. There he laid, dog covering his body, bringing back memories I thought I had already forgotten back, and the only thing the illusion could say was: "Brave yourself."

  I woke with cold sweat running down my neck.

  I was heavily breathing as someone silently knocked at the door. That small sound slowly started to process better in my brain as my ears came back into action, and then it turned into loud bangs on the wood.

  I lifted my upper body from my bed in time for Grover to barge into my room completely uninvited. "(y/n)!" he stammered. "Annabeth ... on the hill ... she ..."

  The look in his eyes told me something was terribly wrong. Annabeth had been on guard duty that night, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened–

  I ripped off the covers, my blood like ice water in my veins. I threw on some clothes while Grover tried to make a complete sentence, but he was too stunned, too out of breath. "She’s lying there ... just lying there ..."