Percy Jackson, Son of Chaos

Screams in the Dark

~Percy~

Percy fell to the floor, dazed as his head slammed against the hard obsidian floors and sending a jolt through his whole body. Blotches of red and black danced in his vision, pulsing in harmony with the man currently walking towards him.

The man laughed as he neared, his split mouth from which the sound came covered by the mask that he wore. Percy refrained from covering his ears as the twisted sound reached him. He had meet the man only once before, and their encounter at the ceremony hadn't been to his liking.

Yes, the man Percy spoke of was the king of grim reapers. The man who had swore on his name that he would kill Percy and bask in his blood as it pooled on his floors. From the look of things now, it seemed he hadn't been joking.

"Perseus Jackson." The man chuckled, speaking the name of his current victim agonizingly slowly. "I really thought you would be more of a... oh, how should I put this..." He trailed off, putting a hand up to hold his chin, slowly tapping the rhythm of his own calm heartbeat. "Challenge maybe? Yes, that seems about right. And yet, what do I get..."

The man strode forward, as Percy scrambled away, desperate to escape more pain. The throbbing of his head didn't provide much comfort.

Suddenly, pain exploded throughout his chest along with the sickening crack of bones. Percy cried out, recognizing the unmistakable shatter of his ribs. Percy's breathing quickly became labored as he sputtered, coughing up blood and mucus.

The man giggled, thick hysteria creeping into his voice. "What do you say we have some fun, eh?" He gasped between giggles, pulling something out from withing his long coat.

The object in his hand glittered in the faint light of the many torches that light the dome shaped room they currently stood in. And, as the object was held up to the light, Percy found himself staring into the clock-face of a pocket watch, the golden chain the only thing between the man's hand, and the cold ground beneath.

The watch swayed as the man jerked it forward, muttering something in the all to familiar language Percy had grown used to listening to. However, he still remained in the dark as to how to speak or understand it.

The watch began to tick, the rhythmic sound of the hands moving mesmerizing. However, on the 12th tick, the clock stopped, the sound of church bells rang through the air in their ominous song of death, as the watch began to glow a deep purple.

The man laughed, holding the clock higher as it began to loose its shape, stretching until it formed a long metal rod the looked to be as tall as the king himself. A blade soon produced from the side of the rod, the sharp edges curving until they formed a point in the familiar shape of an Eagles beak.

The weapon slowly faded back to its colors of origin, now a fully formed scythe. The man brought his hands together, twirling the glistening weapon, before slamming the end on the ground. Cracks rippled out from the scythe, coming to rest inches from Percy's body.

Percy stared on in horror at the glistening edges of the scythe, the gray metal reflecting the many colors that formed light. A single stone lay in its middle, the shape of which resembled an eye, its all knowing gaze resting on its current victim. The gemstone reflected that of the same color as lava, revealing itself to be a rather large Sphalerite.

Ancient script lay on the rod of the scythe, the curved letters flowing together in one long engraving that swirled around the scythe as any ribbon would a pencil. The letters began to glow a faint purple as the man began to mutter words in the same language as before.