¹On This Spring Day, percy jackson & the olympians

011.

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.