007───────ஐ〰ฺ･:*:･✿leap of faith

THEY RUN FOR WHAT SEEMS LIKE HOURS. When their muscles ache, their limbs stiffen, and the adrenaline begins to wear off, Annabeth finally deems the Labyrinth safe enough for rest. Despite this, Lila cannot banish the overwhelming feeling that it is not enough; Kampê is still not far enough behind. But no matter how far away they manage to get, however many miles they manage to put between them and the dragon-woman, it will never be enough.

Lila could collapse in relief. Her legs are stiff and throbbing. If she bends down, she worries that she might not get back up, a little like an old woman who's done too much exercise. It's embarrassing. But after sprinting and fighting and just trying so hard to stay alive, they deserve a break, so they settle for the night on the ground a marble corridor; trembling, sighing.

Lila doesn't feel like a hero - she feels like a child, playing at Hercules and Achilles, and falling short. How did Theseus survive this alone without yielding to insanity?

"It's like the inside of a Greek tomb," Percy pbserves, eyeing the torches that frame the corridors. "Part of one, anyway."

Lila presses her lips together, bouncing on her toes. "How do you know what the inside of a Greek tomb looks like?"

He doesn't answer.

She isn't the greatest fan of that response. Despite the ache of her muscles and her mind crying for a rest, she's still full of nervous energy, unsurprisingly. (Lila always feels animated after a fight - her body just can't seem to get the message that there is no danger. Which may turn out to be a blessing, seeing as there is usually danger.) She's not the only one - both Grover and Percy are jittery, surveying every inch of the room, probably expecting to find a thousand hidden traps.

"We must be close to Daedalus's workshop," Annabeth decides, fingers tracing the marble carvings on the wall with an artist's precision. Lila leans forward to form her own opinion - but it just looks like plain stone. But Annabeth is the smartest person Lila knows, so she accepts her words without argument. "Get some rest, everybody. We'll keep going in the morning."

Grover looks around sceptically at the shadowy corners, up at the ceiling that allows no luminescence to break through, firmer and surer than stone. The only light in the tomb-like room is cast from the torches hanging on the walls in dancing patterns, the flames flickering and flaring. Never constant, never still. It's eerie.

"This feels like a bad place to rest," he intones cautiously.

Annabeth looks certain, but Lila can tell she's putting on a brave face for the others. (Lila has known Annabeth for too long to be fooled - when you have spent so much time with each other, you just know when something is wrong.) Her lips press together, trembling slightly.

"There's nowhere else," Lila tells him, offering Annabeth a smile of encouragement. The grey-eyed girl smiles back, though she still looks unsure. "Let's just try."

Despite her brave words, Lila can't help how uncomfortable she feels. If - when the torches burn out, they will be left to wake up to nothing but the blackness of the abyss above - which sounds like a living nightmare. Hopefully the torches are protected by some magic that keeps them constantly alight - or perhaps Hecate will keep the torches burning in another breadcrumb of kindness. (Then again, Hecate is supposedly working for Kronos, so Lila still has mixed feelings about burning offerings and using her magic. She does it anyway - she doesn't want to get blasted into dust and ash and nothing.)

"How do we know when it's morning?" Grover asks. Lila wishes he hadn't; she'd rather not think about it.

"Just rest," Annabeth insists.

Tyson drops onto the ground near his pack, but doesn't close his eyes - instead, he is fiddling with some scraps of metal, putting something together, pulling it apart and then reassembling it. Each time he has to pull it apart, his lips curl and he sniffs, wiping his cheeks. If Lila looks hard enough, she can see the faint path of the silver shine of water slipping down his cheek.

She sets her own pack down beside him. They seem to have grown closer after their fight with Kampê, which would be sweet, if it weren't under such excruciating circumstances. Lila never really spoke to Tyson before the quest - not through avoidance, just luck. They never had the chance to bond the way she did with Annabeth when they were younger, or how Grover and Lila did when working with Juniper to search for Pan. But when you face a poison-sword-wielding dragon-lady together, it's quite impossible to remain stoic toward the other. "What are you making?"

He shrugs, turning his face away so she won't see his tears. (He's too late, of course.) "Something helpful. More helpful than Briares." His shoulders slump, and he tears the metal pieces apart again the same way he might rip apart meat.

Never meet your heroes, Lila thinks grimly. They'll always disappoint you. Her heart throbs in sympathy for the one-eyed giant sitting dejectedly beside her - he really didn't deserve this. Reaching out to pat his shoulder, not quite daring to reach for his hand, she musters a weak smile. "Hey, don't worry about it. Briares will come around, I'm sure."

"It's not just that," he sniffs again, turning to face her. Lila is alarmed to find his eye swimming with tears, flooding, about to overflow. "We almost died for him. We risked our lives and he wouldn't even help us."

"I wouldn't say that," Lila corrects gently. "He was being tortured. At least he's not in pain anymore, he's free. That's reason enough, I think." Lila doesn't think she could ever walk away from someone being tortured like that, and neither would Percy and Annabeth. Some things you just can't turn a blind eye to without being just as bad as those monsters. "Even if Briares wasn't your hero, we would have saved him anyway. It was the right thing to do."

His single eye stares back up at her, drinking in every word the way Lila remembers Annabeth used to listen to Luke. (She tries not to dwell on that thought.) Tyson's tears seem to have dried now, mercifully, but he stays silent. refusing to speak almost out of fear that if he tries, he will cry.

Eventually he manages a teary smile. "Okay."

With that, he collapses back onto his makeshift bed, scattering the loose metal pieces on the ground beside him, and beginning to snore noisily. Beside him, Grover jumps uncomfortably, edging away (he's still terrified of Tyson. He had a bad experience with a Cyclops a few years ago.)

Falling back onto her sleeping bag, she stares up the ceiling for a few minutes, watching the abyssal darkness of the ceiling that never seems to end. Her fingers brush over the beads of her necklace; the pine tree and the flaming centaur. Will they ever reach Camp Half-Blood again? It doesn't feel like it. The darkness of the labyrinth is endless, eternal. If they get lost in here, they are lost forever.

Her eyes close, and then she is asleep.

WHEN LILA WAKES, she finds herself clutching at the beads of her necklace tight enough to bruise her palms. Indeed, when she pries her fingers away from the beads, they are aching and bruised, four harsh red circles pressed into her hand. If she looks close enough, she can still see the imprint of the flaming centaur and the pine tree. Gods, those times feel like a thousand years ago.

She huffs out a rough cough, her throat sore. It still hasn't quite recovered from the screams of all the dreams the last few days . . . nevermind. She shouldn't dwell on it; it would do no good to get distracted, caught up in her visions again.

Her attention is caught by the dull gloom of the ceiling casting haunting shadows cast on the walls - focus on that, instead. With theperpetually moving shadows, leaving the perpetual effect of something moving, it's even harder to tell when something approaches. A silent enough monster could sneak up on them and slit their throats in the dark, and they'd be none the wiser. (It's totally Lila's fault, she's the one who supported the notion that they should rest here.)

Somehow, the thought of dying doesn't scare her as much as it should. She's probably going to die here anyway, so why worry? - some things are inevitable.

So Lila grits her teeth and pretends she's not scared, in the hope that it might dispel some of her fear.

Percy is still on watch, slumped below one of those torches he so eloquently described as a funeral torch. Lila hates that explanation. It's never just an ordinary torch, always funereal.

They're supposed to be on regular watches. It's probably Lila's turn soon, so she tip-toes over Annabeth and Tyson's legs and joins him.

"Hey," she whispers, slumping down beside him, back against the wall, eyes staring out into the darkness.

Percy jumps, but he gets over the initial shock quickly enough. She must have surprised him, yet he doesn't look too annoyed. Perhaps he's too exhausted - dark shadows frame his eyes, and Lila is sure that he wore them before they even stepped into the maze. When was the last time he slept through the night?

Apparently she's not the only one plagued by nightmares.

Despite that all, he looks as good as ever. They are both smudged by dirt and dust, like archaic paintings that have been forgotten at the back of an old room, then dug out after thirty years. Lila's would be the cheap, badly made replicas. Percy is the perfectly crafted artwork of Botticelli.

"Bad dream?" Percy asks, his voice tinted with sympathy. Does he understand his own dreams? Maybe he can decipher hers; Lila understands nothing of her own mind.

"Not tonight," she smiles, crossing her legs. For once, she can't even remember what she dreamed of. A cliff, somewhere - a sky hued rosy pink and peach-orange. Perhaps she just relived her first vision again. "I doubt it'll last long, though." She has a terrible feeling that her next dream will be twice as bad as the others, at least, as is usual after a reprieve.

The labyrinth groans; they both tense. Lila's hairpin seems heavier in her hair, while Percy slips his hands into his pockets. Even the walls seem precarious; almost like if she presses too hard, the bricks might crumble to dust and leave them to plummet into empty space. She shuffles a little closer to Percy - just for safety, of course.

After a pause, they relax again, satisfied that a monster isn't going to jump from the shadows and kill them. There's a silence.

"Me too," Percy coughs, continuing the conversation where it left off. "I'll be glad when we're out of here, it doesn't help."

Lila nods, staring up at the empty space where the stars should be. "I hate it here. No place should ever be so dark." Dark feels like an understatement, but Lila simply can't find a better word. It sounds selfish, but she's just not cut out for this. Wide, open spaces with air and nature and light; that's her domain. Architecture and mazes and corridors - it's living hell. It might as well be; they'll be walking right down into the Underworld, if they descend any deeper into the ground.

He seems to get what she means, though - her heart swells a little at the way he instantly understands. His hand finds hers - and this fingers intertwine with hers, hidden in the shadows of the darkness. It's so easy to do things like this in the dark, when there's nobody around to see, no witnesses. Then, in the morning, it's far easier to pretend it was all a dream.

"How's this for your first quest?" He sounds curious - like he genuinely cares.

Lila's not sure how to answer. "I . . . don't know," she says after a moment's thought, hating herself. This is why nobody asks for her opinion; she never gives it. "I don't have anything to compare it too. But . . . I expected something more epic." Something that Homer would write about, of myths and legends. Not . . . finding century old bodies, walking for hours and hours, munching granola bars and waking up to the scent of dust and sweat. The most heroic thing they've done on this quest is run from a dragon-snake-poison wielding demon.

"They're never epic," he says quietly. He would know - he's been on more quests than anyone their age. And each time he returns, his spirit seems a little more worn down, he's a little more tired, older. Nothing ages a demigod like a quest. "Maybe back in Ancient Greece."

Lila grins, attempting to lighten the mood. "I guess the original Perseus had all those gods helping him."

"Must've been nice," Percy mutters. "The nicest thing they've ever done for me was vote to keep me alive after I helped save them last Christmas . . . which I'm eternally grateful for." He adds the last as an afterthought, probably realising that none of the gods will be happy to hear him talk of them like this (if they're listening.)

To some extent, Lila would say that Hera tried to help, granting a wish. Although she really didn't grant them anything, it's better to not admit these things. You'll end up like Medusa; cursed and monstrous.

She decides to steer the conversation in a safer direction. "Why did your mom name you Perseus? Why not Theseus, or - or Heracles, or something." Admittedly, it would be a little harder to blend into a mortal school with the name Heracles, but still.

Percy grins slightly, though it looks sad. Mournful, almost. "I know he's a son of Zeus -"

"He's a son of Zeus? I thought he was just some random guy who killed Medusa?" Lila just never thought about it. She sees now how that might have been stupid of her.

"Your mythology knowledge is even worse than mine," Percy grins, and Lila can't decipher whether he's amused, or just pleased to not be the most oblivious person on the team anymore. "And mine is really bad."

That's concerning, when you take into account how much longer Lila's been at camp, and how much free time she really has. She doesn't run off on a quest every summer (and Percy even does it in the winter too, as a bonus!) She just sits around at camp, grows plants, and tries not to think about the future. Her own little bubble. Maybe she was suffocating in it, and it's a good think it was popped. But it was safe, and she liked that.

"Anyway, he's a son of Zeus, but he had a happy ending in the end. Things went wrong for every hero, except him. I think my mom hoped it would turn out the same for me." He doesn't sound optimistic. He's always been a pessimist at heart.

That's okay. She has enough optimism for both of them, she can share. She squeezes his hand. "It will."

He looks at her. Lila can't help feeling self-conscious, his eyes piercing her soul, his hand suddenly feeling very warm. Her cheeks burn, rushing with blood. Hopefully that will be hidden by the glow of the torchlight.

She looks down; a spell is broken, and Percy leans back slightly (she hadn't even realised he had leaned in, they both did) and for a moment he seems disappointed. He clears his throat - oh gods, this will be embarrassing - "What about you?"

She blinks. "What?"

"Your name. Any meaning behind it?"

Lila grins ruefully. "I wish. If there is, I don't know it. My father didn't even name me."

Percy looks confused. "What? Who named you, then?"

"Demeter, I presume." Lila manages a non-committal shrug, trying to appear at unbothered. It doesn't feel like it works; it bothers her everyday. Her internal monologue is just her turning over the problem, trying to look at it from another angle (Annabeth's advice.) Lila isn't clever enough for that; angles are too mathematical for her. "I was just left on my dad's doorstep as a baby with a note saying 'Lila'. I don't even know if that's my birthday. We just assumed it was."

She says "we". Not that they ever celebrated together.

"Didn't your dad ever tell you who your mom was? Wouldn't he remember meeting a goddess?" Percy has that expression he always gets when he can sense that something is wrong, but isn't quite sure what. The one he had when quizzing Annabeth about the prophecy, and the labyrinth.

Lila wishes he had. Unfortunately, her father always remained deliberately stoic whenever she brought up the conversation ( which wasn't often. ) "I don't think he knows. He definitely didn't know she was a goddess, he has no idea I'm a demigod."

Percy's mouth drops open, though he seems understanding. He knows how Annabeth's parents are, how many of their parents are. He drew the long straw when it came to his mortal parent. (And his godly parent, if you forget about the prophecy.) "Where does he think you are all year? Boarding school?"

Lila wouldn't never allow herself to step through one of those perfect white painted doors into those huge archaic buildings built like prisons, she'd rather die. If Lila ends up in the Fields of Punishment, perhaps Hades will just create a mock boarding school for her to work in. That sounds like hell. "Definitely not. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm dead, thank the gods."

From the expression on Percy's face, he doesn't really seem to think that it's something to be thankful for. "Won't he . . . grieve?"

"Oh, no," she reassures him. "He doesn't care. Entirely apathetic. It's a gift." She understates it. Percy understands; he squeezes her hand again, and she shuffles a little closer.

The truth of it is that her father probably didn't notice when she disappeared. Or when she stole a hundred bucks from his safe, definitely not when she somehow managed to bring a plant back to life in his basement. He liked to pretend she was invisible; Lila certainly felt that way. It was almost a relief when a dryad in Central Park found her wandering around, helping plants grow, and offered her a home.

Lila never went back. She's barely left Camp Half-Blood, except to sell strawberries. And she doesn't regret it.

( Her only regret is her name. It would be nice if 'Lila' had more depth, like Percy and Perseus, Silena and Selene. )

Percy can sense she has nothing more to say. He doesn't need to hear all the details; he can work out the rest. So he simply leans back against the wall and stares out into the darkness, uncharacteristically silent. Though, Lila supposes he must stop talking at some point.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes - but it's not awkward, appreciatively. Lila takes the time to watch Percy (from the corner of her eye). He just looks so comfortable, slouched against the wall, eyes unfailingly watching the darkness for any sign of danger. And though he seems relaxed, Lila imagines that he could snatch up his blade to defend them at a moment's notice. If anyone was ever born for quests, it was Percy. He was made for this. (Literally, if you trust in prophecies.)

"Do you ever think that life would be better if we were mortals?"

Lila raises an eyebrow at him. Everyday.

He elaborates, "I mean, for my mom. And for you, too, I guess. Maybe you could have had a better childhood. Maybe my mom could've married a nicer guy. Maybe I wouldn't have to worry about my dad's family incinerating me." He almost looks ashamed, hand tightly gripping Lila's.

Lila thinks that over for a moment. She's always hated that habit - her incessant need to think over everything people say, to form a response that she deems true and thoughtful enough. It's always made her feel slow - Annabeth can form a witty remark within a second, Percy even faster (though, most of the time, she wishes he wouldn't be witty. He has terrible timing) But something in the way Percy watches her; like he doesn't think she is stupid. In fact, it almost seems as though he values her opinion more.

"Maybe." She says, after what feels like forever. "But you'd have other problems too. And maybe the world wouldn't get saved next year. Whichever other demigod that was chosen for the prophecy - they might make the wrong choice. Destroy the world, or whatever."

He blinks. "You think I'm going to save the world?"

Lila watches him then, and realises that maybe she misjudged him slightly. He's not always so confident as she thought, as he acts. (This only makes her like him more.) "Yeah. Of course you are."

"You sound so sure."

Lila laughs slightly. It feels like the wrong reaction, but she's not sure what to say. "Well, you're not going to destroy it." And the prophecy was very specific, according to Annabeth - save, or destroy. Nothing in between.

"I could," he says, sounding so mystified that Lila can't help herself; she laughs again, grinning at him. "My powers can be pretty destructive."

'Pretty' seems like an understatement. He can blow up mountains and raise rivers. "Oh, I know," she assures him, dropping his hand to pat his knee. When she realises what she's doing, she pulls her hand back - though it gets caught in his own palm. Again. "You could. But you won't."

He looks at her, then. And Lila feels as though she's really being seen for the first time, and her heart falls a little further. He glows in the dim light, all the firelight falling around his face.

Some would say her boundless faith is stupid. Lila would agree. But she's starting to not care about what is stupid and what is not, anymore. Some things just are.

"You never answered the question," he says again, squeezing her hand. He doesn't seem eager to release it anytime soon. "Do you ever wish that you hadn't been born?"

Lila smiles. It's an odd question to smile at, but she doesn't have any other reaction to give. There's a hint of embarrassment, but she doesn't bother to lie."I'm glad I'm alive," she explains. "I love being alive. But sometimes I think everyone else would be better off if I weren't around." It's tragically true. Lila is surrounded by people who are going to do good, or save the world, or tip the balance in the war against the titans. Percy, Annabeth, Grover, Silena, Nico, Ethan. Among them all, her name looks odd. Out of place, like it doesn't belong.

It's not that Lila wants to be better than them. It's not that at all; she just wants to be the same. Not even that - she'll never be their equal. She just wants to feel it. Feel the surge of pride as her name is jotted into the history books, as Chiron looks at her as if she is special, when her sisters look at her with something other than pity.

Lila Bellerose does not want to be a hero. She swears it, would cross her heart. She just wants to find her purpose.

(But what else can she be? She's a demigod.)

Percy hums unconvincingly, scowling into the darkness.

"Nobody wishes you were born a mortal, either," she points out, her tone unnecessarily cheery. Great. She's overcompensating now. "Doesn't stop you from thinking it." He doesn't reply to that. "I'm not so helpful here. I'm a pretty useless member of the quest."

"You're not!" he protests. "You were pretty awesome today. The way you fought Kampê - better than anything I could've done." Lila highly doubts that. "And the way you comforted Tyson - I could never do that. I'd probably give him some useless advice, try to help him find a new hero or something. Mr D, maybe. Someone you don't have high expectations for, then he'd never be disappointed."

Lila throws her head back and laughs a real laugh - not that stupid laugh she does when she's nervous and can't think of anything else to do, but the laugh for when something is just genuinely funny. Percy has a skill for making her feel that way; when he speaks, she's always laughing or grinning. It's euphoric. "Remember when Nico called Mr D 'the wine dude'?"

Hopefully they won't get struck down from Olympus for this conversation. Maybe Mr D is too busy tracking minor gods.

Percy grins that crooked grin of his that makes her heart skip a beat, that look in his eyes of perpetual amusement. "I think that saved my life."

Oh gods, Nico. At the thought of Nico di Angelo, lost to shadows and mist, Lila descends a little further into her well of despair. The boy - the brother who disappeared with no warning. "Do you think he's alright?"

"Nico? Hopefully," Percy says, looking up at the ceiling. He looks a thousand times older now. Something about Nico di Angelo just ages him. "I got an Iris message. He was fine - summoning the dead with Happy Meals and talking to a ghost, but fine."

" . . . What?"

Percy's eyes flick back to meet Lila's, like he expected a different reaction. Why does he look surprised? "You didn't know? Uh . . . I must've forgotten to tell you . . . Nico's a son of Hades."

". . . What?!"

Percy, to his credit, at least looks guilty. Lila's never seen him so uncomfortable, except maybe that time when he managed to lose that game of Capture the Flag, when Annabeth pulled out her bronze dagger and screamed at him. Actually, he seems quite eager to retell the entire story of how he figured it out - from the Lotus Casino to the skeleton-zombies.

(And he doesn't let go of her hand, even when he has finished. Perhaps Silena had a point about quests being the best time for dates.)

WHEN THEY SET OFF AGAIN (when everyone has finished the breakfast of granola bars and juice boxes), it is not long before the ancient stone tunnels, reminiscent of the Greek tombs, fade away into dirt. Now the ceiling is held up by cedar beams - still as dark as always, but much more modern. Percy observes that they remind him of a gold mine, and Lila thinks that's an accurate observation. Something about the earth seems stripped bare, cold and empty - like earth that has been over-cultivated.

She isn't the only one to feel unsettled; Annabeth looks even more agitated. Her mood sours the more she sees, and Lila begins to feel the familiar wave of hopelessness washing over her. They are utterly, entirely lost. "This isn't right. It should still be stone."

Lila doesn't really think that the Labyrinth cares about what it should be, but she says nothing. Annabeth already looks nervous enough to bleat.

After a few more minutes of walking, they come to a cave, dripping with silver stalactites, a huge pit in the centre. It's strangely regular, rectangular, with straight lines and sharp corners, edged to perfection with painstaking detail - as if someone has dug it specifically.

- it's a grave.

Ominous energy throbs from the cavern, infuses with darkness. Who dug it; Kronos' minions, Luke, Nico? Did someone die here, or was their body dug up? If Lila looks hard enough, she worries that she might find skeletons, or decaying flesh, maybe the withered remains of another milkman. She looks no closer.

A thousand alarm bells ring, echoing through her mind. Look, she hears murmuring, soft voices urgent in their haste.

Lila looks.

Grover shivers, backing up. "It smells like the Underworld in here."

Lila has never smelt the Underworld, but she believes him. This is too dark even for the labyrinth, too cataclysmic for something created by Athena's favoured one. Athena is a cunning, wry goddess, not a destructive - wait.

Of course; that is how the labyrinth works. It is not bright and clear-cut, obvious and prominent like the Underworld, or Olympus, or any realm of gods. It is something between them all, too clever, too sneaky, adaptable, changeable. The mark of Daedalus; Daedalus's mark on the world.

Lila doesn't like that thought. This was his legacy. What will be theirs?

(Maybe they shouldn't be trying to fight the labyrinth. Maybe they should be trying to outwit it.)

Percy bends down, picking up a piece of plastic wrapping - for a moment Lila thinks it is just pollution, and she almost laughs at the irony that of all the things to follow them down here, it's litter. The reach of human waste and carelessness truly is unending. Then she takes a look at the somber, frozen fear expression on Percy's face as he shines his torch down onto a half-chewed cheeseburger, floating in brown liquid.

"Gross," she mutters, taking a step away from the pit.

"Nico," Percy explains. Oh, that's not good. Lila gulps, thinking of the the horrible story Percy told him of Bianca's death and the skeletons. Nico definitely isn't okay, or safe, wherever he is. Lila only hopes he's still alive. "He was summoning the dead again."

Trying to imagine Nico, with his sunshine smile and deck of Mythomagic cards, digging a grave, solemnly buying a pack of cheeseburgers, and summoning the dead for some odd resurrective ritual is impossibly hard. Lila can't picture it; something about it just doesn't sit right with her. She should've stayed with him, ensured he didn't do something stupid. Should've watched him more closely, worked out who he was before he ran away.

"Ghosts were here," Tyson whimpers, single eye widening in utter terror, the same way he looked when he saw the dragon-lady he dreamt about last night (he uttered her name in his sleep.) "I don't like ghosts."

Neither does Lila. Or the general public, going by every horror movie ever made. What would a ghost look like, anyway? A white sheet with cutout eyes, a transparent spectral figure, even a green, slimy monster oozing slime - like the ones from Ghostbusters. Either way, she'd prefer to avoid them.

But at the price of finding Nico, Lila would walk through hell. And what can a ghost do to them? If they try to attack, they'll just pass right through, like shadows. The thought reassures her.

Percy seems to sympathise with her need to find Nico. "We've got to find him."

"Yeah," Lila agrees, looking toward Annabeth, the leader of their quest. "How should we -

She was about to ask "how should we go about it?" like, you know, they're supposed to. But Percy breaks into a run, darting out of the cave, racing out of their sight, skidding around random corners and sprinting through the corridors. Lila blinks. He does realise they're in a deadly labyrinth and have strict instructions to stay together, right?

"Where are you running?" Grover yells, voice thick with panic. They follow, naturally. "There's nowhere to go? We don't know our way around!"

Percy doesn't respond.

When they eventually manage to catch up, he is staring at the faint rays of sunlight, streaming through a gap in the ceiling above his head. Lila has never been so relieved to see light before - she almost thinks she might cry with relief. From the gasp of relief Annabeth gives, she seems to feel the same way.

At a second glance, Lila realises that it is not a hole in the labyrinth, but a steel grate, almost like bars on a prison. For a moment she wonders if the labyrinth has brought them back to Briares cell, just somehow the wrong way up (she wouldn't put it past the labyrinth to somehow work out a way of twisting reality and gravity.)

"Where were you going?" Annabeth demands, remembering her ire. "Were you just going to run around until you found Nico?"

Percy points up at the grate above him, smirking slightly. Lila tries not to stare. "Found him."

"You don't know that he's up there - "

"Where else could he -"

"Where are we?" Lila interrupts their bickering, figuring they have more pressing problems than Percy's nonsensical sprinting. Through the bars, the sky looks too blue to be real, so it must be some kind of hallucination.

A shadow comes across the grate, cutting off the darkness abruptly. Lila, standing right below it, lets out a shriek of surprise and jumps backwards into Percy.

A cow stares back down, eyes wide in interest and confusion. It probably isn't used to demigods screaming at the sight of it.

Annabeth snickers. "Terrifying."

"Shut up."

Percy laughs gently from behind her. His hand presses into her back; a silent show of support, probably designed to calm her racing heart - perhaps he noticed how scared she was.

They are standing very close. She pretends not to notice.

"It's a cattle guard," Grover explains, looking at the grate with something akin to anger, his fist clenching.

"A what?"

"They put them at the gates of ranches so cows can't get out. They can't walk on them."

"How do you know that?" Percy demands suspiciously, eyeing both Grover and the gate. Lila almost laughs at how seriously they are both taking this. It's a cattle guard. How bad can it be?

Then again, she screamed blue murder at the cow when it mooed at her, so she's in no place to judge.

Grover scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. "Believe me, if you had hooves, you'd know about cattle guards. They're annoying!"

"Didn't Hera say something about a ranch?" Percy turns to Annabeth, as if to ask for permission, though Lila doubts he'll take no for an answer. They have that in common; if something happens to Nico, Lila doesn't know what she'll do, and it seems as though Percy feels responsible for everything the kid does (which is totally unfair on himself, seeing as the kid does the opposite of everything he is told.) His arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer. She tries not to blush; they're very close. "We need to check it out."

Annabeth is stubborn, but even she wouldn't argue with a god, especially not the Queen of the Heavens. Some things, you just don't contradict. "All right. But how do we get out?"

Tyson solves that by hitting the cattle guard with both hands, popping it off, it flying out of sight. They hear a clang!, and then the moo of a cow that must've been attacked by a flying cattle guard. "Sorry, cow!"

After being given a boost out of the tunnel, courtesy of Tyson, they group together just outside the cattle grid. Grover is right; they are on a ranch. Around them are picturesque hills, trees and cacti and rocks, enclosed by a barbed wire fence. It has a rather prison-like feel to it, and Lila has had enough of prisons for one quest. But if not for the fence, Lila would say that the place is rather beautiful.

The weirdest thing is the colour of the cows; bright scarlet, like Valentina Diaz's lipstick. But they cows graze on the grass like any other cow, beeside the occasional confused moo at the loose cow grate and the teenagers who climbed out of the ground. (But they don't attack, thank the gods.)

"Red cattle," Annabeth exclaims; part-excited, part-confused. "The cattle of the sun."

"Why does the sun need cattle?" Lila asks.

"They're sacred to Apollo," she explains. Annabeth has a certain tone of voice reserved only for recitations of information; she's using it now. "Hermes stole them once, as a baby."

Lila can't help but wonder how sacred they really are if a baby god managed to steal them. Then again, gods are weird.

"Let's not steal Apollo's cows," Grover suggests.

"Holy cows?" Percy grins, the same grin, the one that makes you wonder if he's laughing or plotting your demise. Is there a joke she's missing? Or perhaps he just finds it amusing - admittedly, there always seems to be some sort of sacred variant to every animal.

"Exactly. But what - "

"Wait." Grover says, interrupting Annabeth's next information dump. ( Lila wouldn't admit it, but she appreciates that. ) "Listen."

Lila listens, and hears nothing. Then, faintly, slowly, she recognises the faint bark of a dog, and then another dog. Battling, arguing with each other violently, a vicious rip of snarls and growls. The sound gets louder, and then the dogs jump through a bush - except they aren't two different dogs, just one dog with two heads. It bares it's teeth, eyes greedily watching them. Do dogs eat humans? In Greek mythology, probably.

"Bad Janus dog!" Tyson cries.

Grover makes an intelligible sound (in dog-speech, Lila assumes) and raises a hand in greeting, smiling at the dog. In reply, Budget-Cerberus bares it's teeth, looking unimpressed.

Behind it, a man strolls casually out of the woods, glaring at them. With snow-white hair that looks to have been bleached, a cowboy hat and a white beard, he reminds Lila of Father Christmas if he was a cowboy, gained muscles and carried a huge club.

The club is easily the most terrifying thing about him, ingrained with sticking-out spikes that could pierce steel. Anyone who can carry a club that heavy has Lila's instant respect, and fear.

"Heel, Orthus," he tells the dog. After a growl, the Budget-Cerberus immediately retreats to sit at his masters feet, teeth still bared. If Lila looks closely, there is a hint of red on his teeth. She tries not to look.

"What've we got here?" the man huffs. "Cattle rustlers?"

"We don't want your cattle," Lila tells him nervously, eyeing the cows and the dog and the extremely large club. They really can't take him; ridiculously outnumbered by the sheer volume of his livestock. "Or Apollo's cattle"

"Just travelers," Annabeth agrees. "We're on a quest."

His eye twitches - Lila can't tell if it's in anger or jealousy or just plain interest. (She really wishes Annabeth hadn't mentioned the q-word. It always seems to land them in trouble.) "Half-bloods, eh?"

Oh dear. People are never happy to meet half-bloods; they're the most universally hated beings in all of mythology.

Percy tenses, reaching for Riptide instinctively. His good humour has vanished; if Lila didn't know him so well, she'd be alarmed at the change. No wonder the cowherd is wary. "How did you know - "

Annabeth steps forward. "I'm Annabeth, daughter of Athena. This is Percy, son of Poseidon, Lila, daughter of - um, never mind - Grover, the satyr, and Tyson, the - "

"Cyclops," he finishes, glowering. "Yes, I can see that." He turns to Percy, eyebrows folding together in a furious glower. "And I know half-bloods because I am one, sonny." Percy bristles. If there's one thing that guarantees Percy's anger, it's being patronised. "I'm Eurytion, the cowherd for this ranch. Son of Ares. You came here through the labyrinth like the other one, I reckon."

"Nico?" Lila asks, hopefully, looking around to see if she can spot any traces of the Son of Hades on the fields. She's not sure what she's looking for; maybe more cheeseburger wrappers and a rectangle pit.

"We get a load of visitors from the labyrinth," he says. "Not many ever leave."

"Wow," Percy mutters. "I feel welcome."

Annabeth elbows him.

Eurytion glances behind him, just to check that nobody is watching. Lila doesn't like it; now she will worry that they are being watched. If they are - well, by who? "I'm only going to say this once, demigods. Get back in the maze now. Before it's too late."

"We're not leaving," Annabeth insists. "Not until we see this other demigod. Please."

He looks pitying. "Then you leave me no choice, missy. I've got to take you to the boss."

( I'm running out of questions; does anyone have any suggestions? They can be about anything; my life, other fandoms, this story, idc. )

QOTD: What would you change about the books, and why?

most of this is about character relationships lol. anyway i'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on this, it'd be super interesting so . . .

firstly, octavian's character . . . could've been so good ! there was so much potential for a very well-nuanced, understandable and cool villain but he just, wasn't it. he turned into comic relief and it disappointed me. so i'd like to give him a better arc and flesh him out more.

secondly, jason and piper would break up at the end of boo, instead of that cute scene on the rooftop. or maybe they could go up onto that rooftop and it would be how their fake relationship started and their real one ends, just for the parallels. i just think that overall their relationship could've been healthier? they definitely needed to break up at some point imo, and i think a mutual, healthy breakup where they both realise they're better off alone would just subvert a lot of common tropes and would've made me v v happy

speaking of relationships - leo and calypso should NOT have happened, it was very unnecessary. so get rid of that whole subplot, and then leo does not need to come back to life at the end of boo, he dies fr. it just . . . needed to happen. ( and calypso could've been saved in the trials of apollo instead )

lmao i just did a whole rant sorry

- problem with never updating is now i have soooo much to put in the authors note; since i last updated, i have cut most of my hair off, changed my choice of subjects for next year, failed a physics exam and started a podcast where my friends where I retell myths and random stories from ancient rome and greece. next week we're doing julius caesar. it's been wild.

i also made this,

which admittedly i did during my physics class and might be why i failed physics, but . . . . they're pretty ? hopefully ?

Thank you so much for reading < 3

lyra