καταφύγιο

refuge

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Annabeth could sense that something was horribly wrong even before the chariot rolled to a stop; it was the same sense of wrongness that had accompanied her from the very start of this damned journey. But everything was too fast, too impossibly fast. The chariot, moving faster than Annabeth's eyes could register, and the fact that they were now miles from where they had been just seconds ago made everything so much more confusing.

And Drew, who was so close to death for the second time in the last few days, was barely hanging on to the chariot. Annabeth, who was standing next to her, was filled with worry that Drew would fall off, and Annabeth would be unable to catch her. But out of nowhere, Drew gripped the chariot with a newfound surge of strength, something that didn't go unnoticed by Annabeth. But she had no explanation for it, which seemed to be the case lately. No answers, no ideas; just a general sense of clueless hopelessness.

"Not hopeless quite yet," a voice in the back of her mind whispered, "Cameron's still out there."

But somehow, that thought wasn't reassuring. Yes, Cameron was still out there, but no one knew where he was, or even if he was alive. And, if she was being completely honest with herself, Annabeth didn't know where she stood with Cameron. They had known each other for an impossibly short amount of time, but there was something there. But it was so difficult to ascertain what was real and what wasn't.

It was all too much for Annabeth, all too fast. And, not for the first time, she craved the peaceful emptiness that the lonely dark brought her, not this glaring Sun that was relentlessly beaming on her back.

"This is what happens," the voice chided, "you make a choice, and then everything turns out the exact way you didn't want. Isn't that what always happens to you?"

"How am I supposed to know? I forgot everything, remember?" Annabeth muttered aloud, her words ripped from her mouth by the violent wind. Luckily, none of the demigods heard her words, but the voice in her head did.

"Not for much longer. Soon, you'll remember everything."

The voice spoke with a comforting tone, but the words sounded more like a threat than anything. Annabeth shivered as the chariot began to gradually slow down, the world slowly becoming more in focus.

They were on top of the water, a faint mist enveloping the chariot as they moved over the churning sea. The sky was dark with clouds, and there was the threatening promise of a storm.

Annabeth's head was spinning at the impossibility of traveling on top of water right as a dot appeared on the horizon. It grew bigger and bigger as the chariot approached it, revealing the dot to be a small island. The chariot slowed down even more, the pretty girl atop the horse directing them towards the island. Anxiety bloomed inside Annabeth's chest; would this island be filled with people who expected her to know them?

But as the island emerged from the mist, it became evident that the island was abandoned. The shoreline was decorated with sharp rocks, as was the sea surrounding it.

It was almost a miracle that the chariot wasn't destroyed as the horse weaved the chariot between the rocks. They had finally slowed down to the speed of a normal horse, and the wheels hit the sand, sending it spraying up in the air. Relief spread through Annabeth as the world finally stilled around her. The wheels rolled to a stop, and Clarisse jumped out of the chariot. She wobbled slightly, but straightened out almost immediately.

"Where are we?" Clarisse demanded, her eyes scanning her surroundings.

Hazel frowned as she slid off the horse. "Somewhere safe, hopefully. Arion needs to rest. We should be far enough away from those monsters."

Grover, who appeared to be on the verge of collapsing, stumbled out of the chariot, falling onto his knees. "That was horrible," he groaned, his face pale.

No one paid him any attention; Clarisse had turned back to the chariot, where Drew was standing absolutely still. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, and her breathing was shallow.

"Drew?" asked Clarisse tentatively.

Drew turned, but it was to face Annabeth. "Nico di Angelo says to consider his debt paid," was all she said, her hand still pressed against her stomach. But she appeared to be completely healed, and the only evidence that Drew had ever been hurt was the blood staining her hands and abdomen.

Annabeth frowned at the name. It sounded familiar, in the way that all the names she had been presented with did, but she didn't know who he was. And she certainly didn't remember any debt.

But Hazel seemed to know Nico di Angelo. She was frowning at Drew as she said, "what do you mean Nico said that? How would you know?"

"He healed me," said Drew, finally tearing her gaze away from Annabeth, "somehow, he entered my body and healed me. Gods, that sounds so gross when I say it out loud."

Hazel didn't smile at Drew's attempt of a joke. "He has to stop doing that! Gods, ever since Will disappeared, he's been more and more reckless."

Hazel said something that sounded like a curse in another language, but it was Grover that was frowning now.

"What do you mean 'since Will disappeared'? Where is he?"

"He went on a mission and missed his panic date. It's been a few days, and there hasn't been any sign of him."

A somber silence fell over the small, broken group. There was something insignificant bothering Annabeth, a concern that was soon voiced by Drew.

"Where are we?" asked Drew, repeating Clarisse's earlier question.

Hazel was visibly uneasy, and despite having just met her, Annabeth felt something like sympathy inside her chest. "Annabeth has been here before," said Hazel, casting a glance towards her.

Any ounce of sympathy for Hazel evaporated; she was just another person expecting Annabeth to remember everything. But that was an impossible task, one that Annabeth didn't know how to approach.

"I don't remember," Annabeth voiced aloud, indifferent to the hostile tone creeping into her words.

Hazel winced, avoiding eye contact as she said, "you were with Percy."

And the tense silence that followed could have been severed with a blade. Annabeth found herself loathing the name "Percy" and the horrible stillness inside her chest that always followed. That name meant something, she was sure of that much, but she didn't know what. And that was the worst part.

"Well," Hazel continued, obviously anxious to gloss over the awkwardness, "it used to be the island that the sirens inhabited."

"Oh, gross," Drew commented, her nose scrunched in disgust.

"And the sirens are gone?" asked Chris, and it was his turn to look around fearfully.

Hazel nodded, but Annabeth didn't miss the way her eyes carefully scanned their surroundings, clearly searching for any sign of danger. Annabeth herself could feel the weight of uneasiness hovering above her. Something about this place was. . .wrong. The air was impossibly still, no wind blowing despite the crashing waves on the shore. The sand beneath Annabeth's feet shifted, even when Annabeth remained completely still.

But if there was something wrong, no one else seemed to notice. So Annabeth was silent as Hazel led the way to where they would create a camp for the night.

It wasn't until many minutes later, after a fire was crackling cheerfully, that Hazel approached Annabeth.

Hazel sat down beside Annabeth, leaving only a few inches separating the two. There was something almost familiar about this, something casual and normal. But Annabeth ignored the feeling, and forced herself to put her walls up.

"Do you know who I am?" asked Hazel suddenly, her inquisitive golden eyes looking at her with something that felt like hope. Annabeth could sense that Clarisse and Drew were staring at her, their attempts of disguising their eavesdropping completely failing.

"No," was all Annabeth said. It was all she could say because she knew that she must have had a past with Hazel, one that the other girl expected her to remember. And Annabeth didn't.

Hazel nodded to herself, and for the first time, Annabeth was struck by how young the other girl was; Hazel couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. With sudden horror, Annabeth realized that she didn't know how old she was.

"Do you remember anything?"

This was too much. It was all becoming too much, and Annabeth was overwhelmed with the desires of everyone else, the desires for her to remember, to know what they expect her to know. But how could she when she didn't even know what she was supposed to remember?

"I remember pain," Annabeth said, staring off at the horizon, at the spot where the ocean faded into the sky, "and I remember hoping. For a savior, I think. For someone to save me. But no one came."

The silence was filled with the sound of joyful flames dancing across the sticks and foliage. Annabeth could feel the weight of everyone's gaze resting on her, but she didn't care. She couldn't force herself to become the person they were expecting, so there was nothing that she could do for them.

"We looked for you, you know," Hazel said, her voice hushed. "We looked for you for months, and we looked for Percy. But we were hiding, too, and trying not to be killed. For months, we had been preparing for war, but when it happened, we weren't ready. And I'm sorry that we didn't find you."

"I don't know who 'we' is," said Annabeth, voice low enough that Grover, who was the one farthest away from Annabeth, had to lean in, "and you don't have to apologize for something that I don't remember. Because I don't remember you, or Percy, or anyone else. And I don't know if I ever will."

"Annabeth," warned Clarisse.

"It's okay, Clarisse," Hazel smiled.

"No, not about the remembering shit," snapped Clarisse. Annabeth turned to face the girl, and her heart stopped in horror at what Clarisse was pointing at.

In the darkening sky, illuminated by the setting Sun, were a dozen figures of winged horses, riders visible on top of them.

Hazel stood up suddenly, drawing a golden sword out of a sheath as she did so. The other four demigods (and one satyr) stood up as well, staring at the approaching trouble.

"How the Hades did they catch up to us?" cursed Hazel.

"Annabeth, you need to hide," said Clarisse, shooting a caring glare at her.

"No," she retorted.

"It wasn't a fucking question, go hide right now or I'll kill you myself."

Drew stepped between the two of them, resting a gentle hand on Clarisse's shoulder. "Be nice. Annabeth, you do need to hide."

Fury boiled in her blood. "What about you? You've almost died twice now."

Drew shrugged almost carelessly. "I haven't died yet."

"Wait," interrupted Grover, "I don't think they're our enemies."

"They definitely might be," Chris said uneasily.

But there was no way to know. And all too soon, the winged horses were upon the small group of survivors, of demigods.

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