Percy Jackson, The Missing Hero.

Epilogue.

When Nathan came around, he came around slowly. He felt like he'd had his soul ripped from his body, head pounding with each breath he managed to take. The realisation that he was still alive was another thing that came slowly, disappointment surging through his veins when he realised that Thanatos had not taken him to the land below.

For a moment he considered lying there until death came to collect.

It was only when he remembered that he was on the floor of the Labyrinth that he realised it would be best for him to start moving before he encountered something that he was in no fit state to face. He pushed himself up slowly, wincing whenever he moved too fast. When he finally managed to get to his feet, he had to lean against the wall for a moment to catch his breath, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword – the sword he'd had to slip into the Chaos Cabin to reclaim while its inhabitants were at dinner – while using the other to support himself to ensure he didn't slip down.

The first few steps he managed to take were tentative and slow. Pain hindered every step, but he gritted his teeth and refused to give up. He didn't want to stop until he got somewhere safe, somewhere outside the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood. It wasn't that he didn't consider Camp safe, he just didn't want to take his chances when the four people who could attest to his innocence were lying seemingly unconscious where he'd left them.

Nathan sincerely hoped that they'd just been unconscious. The alternative left the unpleasant taste of guilt in his mouth and an unsettled feeling in his stomach.

He wouldn't have done himself any favours if someone had stumbled upon them when the only conscious person was the one who was supposed to be chained up below deck on Valdez's infernal flying contraption.

It technically wasn't his fault that Eros had dropped a hairpin, but he was the one who had spent the better part of an hour trying to drag it towards himself with his foot before spending even more time using it to pick the lock on his manacles. Escaping from their hold didn't exactly paint him in the best light, even if he'd had a good ulterior motive for the first time in his life.

A guilty conscience was one Erebus of a thing.

He'd known that Percy was the type to do something stupid and selfless and that much had been confirmed when he'd been poking through his former Cabin-Mate's bedroom, intent on finding his stolen sword, and had managed to find the damned incantation Aether ended up reciting first. It didn't take a genius to realise what they were going to do.

Nathan stumbled through the archway, expecting it to simply lead into another corridor. He froze when he realised that it did not.

The temperature seemed to drop then and there. He took a few tentative steps forward, despite his heart urging him to turn around and run back the way he came.

The three women looked up from the sweater that they were knitting, equally sinister smiles on each of their faces.

The Fates.

"Nathaniel Mallory," they greeted in sync with one another and his heart dropped into his shoes. He desperately tried to scramble through his memories in order to remember their names, mentally trying to identify them so he didn't seem like a fool. His heart wrenched at the sound of his true name, making him think of his father and the realisation that he may never know what happened to him in the wake of his mother's defeat.

"I haven't heard that name spoken aloud for a long time," he blurted out, despite his brain telling him that he needed to be respectful and play his cards correctly if he wanted to walk away from this meeting intact.