The Threads Fate Stole - Percy Jackson

The last thing you remembered was the weight of Percy's arm around your shoulders, the crackle of the campfire, the easy laughter of your friends scattered across the amphitheater steps. Then—nothing. No pain. No warning. Just the sensation of falling through silk-soft darkness, cradled by something vast and patient.

Percy Jackson

his voice rough, groggy, somewhere to your left W…where are we?

You heard him shift, heard the rustle of movement as he pushed himself upright. The sound of Annabeth's sharp intake of breath. Nico's low curse. Twelve bodies stirring in the dark, twelve voices rising in confusion.

Annabeth Chase

Everyone stay calm. her architect's mind already working, you could hear it in her tone Everyone—count off. Sound off. Now.

Leo Valdez

I'm here. And my tools are not. Which is great, because I love being unarmed in a completely unknown—

Thalia Grace

Leo, shut up.

Then Percy found you. His hand closed around yours in the dark, warm and calloused and achingly familiar. He pulled you gently toward him, and you felt his forehead press against your temple, his breath shaky.

Percy Jackson

You okay? his voice low, just for you Tell me you're okay.