XIII

PERCY

He wasn't dreaming of the usual visions anymore. The vivid dreams that all demigods have no longer plagued his uncomfortable slumber. It should have been a relief to finally be freed from the curse that came with being a child of a god. It should have been peaceful to dream whatever his own sub-conscience wanted him to dream. At last, there was respite from the terrible images that would be presented to him in his sleep. It should have been blissful ignorance. If only…if only it was blissful ignorance. And if only…if only his dreams were his own.

Now, instead of visions that reflected reality, he was shown things…images that should not be real.

He would have been fine if it were just this. After many demigod visions, something like a nightmare was nothing since it was fantasy.

...Except that there was this voice. Soft. Silky. Smooth. Eerily Sinister. It whispered to him constantly, telling him things. Things that could happen. Things that he did not want to hear. It was so…so silken sweet. That voice could charm even the most firm of hearts to sway to its heed. A Pleasant Sound. Like a lullaby. It lowered one's mental guard, almost as if it were a tranquilizer. And all the while, this voice would whisper terrible things that would befall the world. With each syllable shaking his very being, even in sleep. It would tell him all the possibilities in store. All the calamities…And that Percy couldn't do anything about it.

It would show him the nightmare that could come true. Red skies. Dark clouds. Percy overlooked a land that was burning. Black palaces rose from under the ground. Their gothic structures brought to sharper focus against the bright red horizon.

The scene changed, and Percy found himself staring at a chained Goddess of the Moon. Her robes were torn and bloodied. Her lip was bleeding. And her eyes were downcast. She held an expression as if she were under immense agony. Her body jerked every so often as if electricity were coursing through her veins. "Percy, hurry."

Percy woke with a jolt and found himself in a room of pure white. Looking at the bedside table, he found a room card and toiletries. His eyes swept the place again. There was a backpack sitting on a drawn-up chair next to him. He stretched over and grabbed it. Digging through the contents, he found his sword/pen Riptide, his watch/shield, a pile of cash, and a mirror. Artemis' bracelet/weapon present was still on his wrist to his relief. Curious, he picked up the mirror. And immediately regretted it.

A dreadful sensation spread through his fingertips upon contact with the cold ornate handle. It spread to his skull and as if ice cold water had been splashed on his head, he jolted. Look into the mirror. The thought came to him suddenly like it was triggered from the touch. No, perhaps it wasn't a thought, but rather, the voice. It was a suggestion. So compulsive, so compelling. Like he was being coaxed into committing a crime. His hand lifted the mirror, reluctantly. Staring back at him was not a reflection. No, maybe that wasn't a good way to put it. The features were the same. All the physical characteristics. But there was a cold light in those sea-green eyes. Then sea-green became a blinding gold.

Percy's reflection curled his lips. We can finally talk, face-to-face, Percy. I've been watching you for several months now. Ever since that night at the Wolf House, where you unraveled the pentacle and summoned me.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His voice came out hoarse. The Wolf House. Back then. That locked room. The blackout. He tried to sort through his jumble of memories, all the while keeping his image busy. This mirror was dangerous. Dangerous might even be an understatement. This thing was evil. More evil than Kronos and all his henchmen combined. "And quit stalking me." It laughed. I suppose you could compare me to a predator stalking its prey. It seems his statement was being misunderstood. But I would rather view it as an investor keeping his eyes on a potential stock.

"I don't want your interest. I don't want any part of this." His first thought was to throw the mirror away. Smash it. Bury it. Get rid of it. But his hand continued to firmly clasp the mirror, forcing him to watch his distorted reflection smile disarmingly back at him. Now that won't do. I won't allow you to throw the mirror away…yet. But don't worry, this form of communication is only temporary. After the Feast, we'll be able to freely converse with one another on a more personal level.

That statement sent a chill down Percy's spine. "What do you mean?" Though he had an inkling.

You already know. You've felt it, haven't you? You've heard me in your dreamless sleep, haven't you? You've even let me take control to save that moon goddess and her followers. You've used me; so it's only fair I get to use you.

"If you're searching for someone to possess, find another vessel." That could work. But it would be a pain to find another appropriate host. It looked like his reflection was contemplating as it studied him back through the mirror's surface. And you would lose all of this power. And as it spoke, Percy could feel his blood start to literally boil like liquid fire once more. Just like that time in the sea. I think you've already figured out...that what you are dealing with is far older and stronger than a mere earth goddess. It said this in a light tone, as if they were discussing trivial matters over coffee. Almost offhandedly. I could singlehandedly win you the war. No doors of death. No fire or storm. No sacrifices.

It said the last one, teasingly, this time. His reflection's golden eyes bored into his, studying him, looking into his soul.

So tempting. He had felt the strength that it had lent him that last fight where he passed out. It felt like he was a nuke at the time, with the sheer amount of energy that had coursed through his body. From that experience alone, he knew that it wasn't lying: that with this power, he could most definitely take down the earth goddess alone. The Fates would hold no power over him. Neither would any prophecy. And that was the most alluring part. There was no need for his friends to throw their lives on the line to win the war. The prophecy of seven would be undone. He could usurp destiny, fate, and win. All he had to do was…

A sudden thought occurred to him as he remembered. "Why not take my mind by force? Why wait until the Feast?" Someone interfered. A flicker of annoyance flashed in the golden eyes. It is of no matter because you need me. Upon the day of the Feast, you will have to make a choice: to end the war with me or to prolong it with your friends. Whereas before I could have taken control by force, now I am bound by rules. Its eyes filled with mirth. A vain attempt to dissuade me, to be honest. I already know what move you'll make. You care about your friends too much after all. Especially that lunar goddess. I'm sure you were already told that this is your fatal flaw.

There seemed to be a note of finality in that ringing voice. As much as Percy wanted to denial everything it had said, he couldn't. Because he knew what choice he would make. He knew to what lengths he would go to save everyone. The voice was right: there was nothing he could do. Despite being freed from the fates by this being of power, he was now tied to an even greater calling.

Ever the hero. Ever the caring. Ever the martyr. The righteous. The protector. The voice crooned in his head, mocking him.

Whatever. There was still time. Until the Feast, he had time to figure things out. This deal was only a last resort. How he hated thinking that. Because for Percy Jackson, last resorts were almost always what he had to turn to when clutch time arrived.

…

So…it's been awhile since I updated this story. Hope I still have some readers…If so, review! School is almost over so I'll have more time to write. And your reviews give me motivation. Anyway, good day and until next time.