~ { Shadow and Beauty } ~

Gaea Is A Bitch As Usual

{Leo}

In his dream, Leo was running for his life through his mother's old workshop, where she'd died in a fire when Leo was eight.

   He wasn't sure what was chasing him, but he sensed it closing fast—something large and dark and full of hate.

   He stumbled into workbenches, knocked over toolboxes, and tripped on electrical cords. He spotted the exit and sprinted toward it, but a figure loomed in front of him—a woman in robes of dry swirling earth, her face covered in a veil of dust.

   Where are you going, little hero? Gaea asked. Stay, and meet my favorite son.

   Leo darted to the left, but the Earth Goddess's laughter followed him.

   The night your mother died, I warned you. I said the Fates would not allow me to kill you then. But now you have chosen your path. Your death is near, Leo Valdez.

   He ran into a drafting table—his mother's old workstation. The wall behind it was decorated with Leo's crayon drawings. He sobbed in desperation and turned, but the thing pursuing him now stood in his path—a colossal being wrapped in shadows, its shape vaguely humanoid, its head almost scraping the ceiling twenty feet above.

   Leo's hands burst into flame. He blasted the giant, but the darkness consumed his fire. Leo reached for his tool belt. The pockets were sewn shut. He tried to speak—to say anything that would save his life—but he couldn't make a sound, as if the air had been stolen from his lungs.

   My son will not allow any fires tonight, Gaea said from the depths of the warehouse. He is the void that consumes all magic, the cold that consumes all fire, the silence that consumes all speech.

   Leo wanted to shout: And I'm the dude that's all out of here! His voice didn't work, so he used his feet. He dashed to the right, ducking under the shadowy giant's grasping hands, and burst through the nearest doorway.

   Suddenly, he found himself at Camp Half-Blood, except the camp was in ruins. The cabins were charred husks. Burned fields smoldered in the moonlight. The dining pavilion had collapsed into a pile of white rubble, and the Big House was on fire, its windows glowing like demon eyes.

   Leo kept running, sure the shadow giant was still behind him.

   He wove around the bodies of Greek and Roman demigods. He wanted to check if they were alive. He wanted to help them. But somehow he knew he was running out of time.

   He jogged toward the only living people he saw—a group of Romans standing at the volleyball pit. Two centurions leaned casually on their javelins, chatting with a tall skinny blond guy in a purple toga. Leo stumbled. It was that freak Octavian, the augur from Camp Jupiter, who was always screaming for war.

   Octavian turned to face him, but he seemed to be in a trance. His features were slack, his eyes closed. When he spoke, it was in Gaea's voice: This cannot be prevented. The Romans move east from New York. They advance on your camp, and nothing can slow them down.

    Leo was tempted to punch Octavian in the face. Instead he kept running.

   He climbed Half-Blood Hill. At the summit, lightning had splintered the giant pine tree.

   He faltered to a stop. The back of the hill was shorn away. Beyond it, the entire world was gone. Leo saw nothing but clouds far below—a rolling silver carpet under the dark sky.

   A sharp voice said, "Well?"

   Leo flinched.

   At the shattered pine tree, a woman knelt at a cave entrance that had cracked open between the tree's roots.