End of the Line

#42 - Deep Waters

Chapter 42 - Deep Waters
published: Wednesday, 13 November 2019

Annabeth.

That was Percy's first thought when he found himself sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

"Annabeth!" Mere bubbles came out of his mouth.

There was a moment of panic where Percy started to struggle.

How deep in the water was he? How would he get out?

Everything was pitch black. A murky abyss. Anything could be lurking in the darkness.

He reached out and desperately grasped for anything. There was a heavy weight on his abdomen — a piece of debris from the ship.

Percy groaned as held a hand to his head. There'd been an injury there earlier, but the water must've healed it.

There had been an explosion. The ship had been torn apart, and the demigods separated. Percy squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn't believe it; they were so close to succeeding, and now Tartarus had beat them again.

And he'd finally come to an understanding about the situation between Annabeth and himself. She'd thought he'd cheated on him.

Just the thought made Percy sick to his stomach. How could she ever think that? That she wasn't good enough for him? The idea that he'd somehow contributed — although a false memory — to her destroyed mental state over the last few years was disturbing, to say the least.

Percy pushed that out of his mind as he started to feel the water pressure getting to him. The dizziness made it hard for him to focus, but Percy knew that even he could only sustain so much pressure, and if this went on longer, he would die at the bottom of the sea.

Ironic, for a son of Poseidon.

Percy groaned as he raised his arms and feet and tried to push the debris off of himself. It was too heavy to be lifted or even budged by him.

His fists clenched as Percy turned to the sea instead. Come on. Help me.

The water yanked him out from under the sinking debris in a swift current. Percy tumbled through the water a few times before he came to hover in the sea.

Now that he was free, Percy could sense everything around him. He forced himself not to panic. This was the sea — his domain. He didn't have anything to be afraid of.

He willed the currents to propel him to the surface.

The exact coordinates he was at fluttered through his mind. He was in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean, with nowhere to go.

Percy fervently prayed to all the gods that his friends had made it out okay. He was the only one who could've gotten out from under that debris — if someone else was stuck similarly...

Percy burst through the surface in a frantic spray of water. "Annabeth!" he yelled. "Annabeth!"

As he scanned the landscape, Percy felt his heart sink into a cold block. There was no one to be seen. The ship's planks and metal shrapnel were scattered across the ocean.
Smoke continued to linger in the air, creating a dreary mist hanging overhead.

"Jason!" Percy shouted. "Leo!" He called his other friends' names, to no avail.

Percy was dizzy with fear and horror at what had just happened. Was he the only survivor? All his friends dead —

Percy forced himself not to think about that. "Annabeth!" he tried one last time, his voice cracking.

And then, like a miracle from Olympus, a distance echo came. "Percy!"