Shadows, Wings, and Whispers
Percy looked at the man in front of him, confused. He blinked and, in that instant, the figure vanished as if it had never been there. There wasn't a single sound or shadow to indicate anyone had occupied that space. A shiver ran down his spine.
Was he going crazy? Without daring to look back, he ran straight out of the museum.
Meanwhile, on the building's rooftop, Miraak held Professor Dodds—or rather, Alecto—restrained, ignoring her attempts to break free.
"Alright, let's make this quick," he said, and without hesitation, took the fury's wings and tore them apart effortlessly. The crack echoed like thunder, drawing a scream of pain from the creature as she collapsed onto the ground.
"You… what are you? What do you want?" Alecto spat, her eyes blazing with fury.
"Information. It seems mortal books don't contain as much as I expected. Especially because I keep seeing things like you around, though they don't seem able to speak like you do," Miraak replied, watching her with cold curiosity.
Her wings slowly began to regenerate, but with a simple touch of his finger, Miraak broke them again.
"You're interrupting the orders of a god. Are you really willing to risk angering him?" the fury growled.
"I've faced things similar to gods, if they count," he retorted, before striking her and placing his boot on her chest, pinning her down. She tried to hurt his leg, without success.
"You… did you use the waters of the river?" she asked suddenly, with a hint of confusion.
"I'm not going to answer questions. I'll be the one asking them. And if you're of no use to me, I'll simply destroy you," Miraak said, pressing down harder.
Alecto looked at him with a mocking expression, without a trace of fear.
"Ah… that look. I know it well. Immortality… or something like it. Perhaps coming back from the dead," Miraak murmured, analyzing every micro-expression on her face. "No… something similar. You said 'god'… perhaps he could bring you back. Close… mmm… your soul will regenerate you," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I'm still close."
She remained silent, staring at him.
"Well, no matter. If that's the case, I'll have to adjust my threat. First, a little explanation," Miraak said calmly. "Where I come from, there's something called a soul gem. These are created with rituals that infuse soul-trapping magic into fragments of enchanted minerals. The rituals are somewhat complex… but truthfully, not so difficult for someone like me. I can even skip some steps. Using a special spell, I can absorb an animal's soul into these gems, which can then be used to recharge enchantments. What does this do? The soul inside simply transforms into energy, losing its consciousness and becoming pure energy for use."
Alecto watched him, as if trying to figure out where he was going with this.
"Then there's another type of gem, the black soul gem. These keep your consciousness inside the stone—along with your soul, of course. And when they're used, your consciousness is violently destroyed, as is your soul, turning it into pure energy. But it's considered highly dishonorable… because it prevents your soul from reaching Sovngarde. No… wait, using the style of this world, that would be… Valhalla," Miraak said, watching her calmly. "But I suppose your gods are different, right?"
The fury felt Miraak's gaze as heavy as destruction itself.
"Well now… I heard a familiar name," someone suddenly said.
Miraak turned quickly, ready for battle. There stood a man in a modern suit, his tie bearing faintly visible runes for some reason, and a spear in his hand. He smiled calmly, with an eye patch and a neatly kept beard, golden with streaks of gray.
"Easy now. I'm not really here. You could call me… an epic hologram," the man said with a half-smile.
"Who are you?" Miraak asked seriously.
The fury's eyes widened in shock before she used her freshly healed hand to drive her own claws into her chest, killing herself, while smiling at Miraak. He was about to act, but his eyes remained locked on the man in front of him.
"It would be better if you didn't do that. You'd be drawing the attention of far more than just that fury's master," the man said calmly, without stopping Miraak.
Miraak continued to stare at him.
"I only came here because I heard an interesting name come out of your mouth. I'm not your enemy… or rather, the blood running through your veins is far too similar to my own," the man said with a smile. "Something like… distant cousins," he added, briefly glancing up at the sky.
"Who are you?" Miraak repeated.
"Well, that's not important right now. It's fascinating to see someone from another world with so much in common with ours. I'm not sure who's the copy of whom… and if it weren't for the words you spoke, I wouldn't have noticed you at all," the man said with a grin. "How about joining my company? We're hiring."
Miraak raised an eyebrow. He knew perfectly well what a company was; he had read every book, from ancient to modern, in the library. But looking at this man, he couldn't feel at ease.
"No? That's a shame. You'd make an excellent employee. How about this— I can see you're not the type to work under someone… but perhaps taking the occasional side job could benefit us both. You, gaining something in a world you don't even know… and me, a friend who can't be dragged down by this place's fate," the man said calmly. "Here. This one's free. If you accept, you can come find me," he added, tossing something to him.
Miraak caught the object and examined it. It was a small flash drive. When he looked back up, the man had vanished as if he had never been there.
Miraak frowned. Perhaps this world was not as simple or easy as he had first thought. Whispering in an ancient tongue, his body turned to mist and vanished.
…
Change of P.O.V.
I'm not crazy. I know I'm not.
But how is it that everyone seems to be playing a joke on me? Everyone insists that Ms. Kerr, a stunning blonde I had never seen in my life, had been our teacher all this time… as if Mrs. Dodds had been a product of my imagination.
Over the next few days, I tried to bring up Mrs. Dodds to catch them off guard, but all I got were weird looks, like I was some kind of psycho. It got to the point where I almost started believing it— that maybe Mrs. Dodds had never existed at all.
But Grover… Grover couldn't fool me.
Whenever I asked him something about Dodds, he hesitated for a split second before saying she didn't exist. And when I asked him about that man… I even saw his eyes widen in surprise, and something that looked a lot like fear.
Something strange was going on, and what happened at the museum was what finally pushed me over the edge.
During the day, I didn't have time to think about it. But at night… I still had nightmares about Mrs. Dodds.
With the weather going crazy—which wasn't helping my mood at all—one night a storm blew the window out of my room. I started feeling moody and irritable. My grades dropped from "inefficient" to "very inefficient." I fought more with Nancy Bobofit and her friends, and in almost every class I ended up in detention. Eventually, when my English teacher asked me for the millionth time why I was so lazy, I hit my limit. I think I called him an insult. I didn't even know exactly what "old drunk" meant, but it sounded good.
The following week, the principal sent a letter to my mom giving her the official news: next year, I wouldn't be invited back to enroll. For me, that was a good thing. Or better… yeah, better.
I wanted to be with my mom in our apartment, even if it meant going to public school and putting up with my detestable stepdad and his endless poker games.
Still, there were things about Yancy I might miss: the view from my dorm window toward the woods, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine.
Grover… I guess. I worried about how he'd survive without me next year. I'd also miss Latin class, the crazy competitions with Mr. Bruner, and his faith that I could do well.
Exam week was getting closer, and I only studied for his subject. I hadn't forgotten what Bruner told me—that this class could literally be a matter of life and death for me. I don't know why, but at some point I started to believe him.
The afternoon before my final exam, I got so frustrated that I threw my Greek mythology book across the dorm. Again, the words on the page seemed to blur and spin around in my head. There was no way I could remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or between Politeus and Politentes.
Then I remembered Bruner's expression, his thousand-year-old stare, and his voice telling me: "I will only accept your best, Percy Jackson." I took a deep breath and was about to get up to pick up the book when a hand appeared and grabbed it off the floor before I could.
I froze.
It was him. The same man from the museum, wearing that insanely cool jacket.
"You know, you really shouldn't treat books like that. They're a way to record knowledge… and knowledge is power. And power is life," he said, his blue eyes seeming to glimmer with strange interest as he watched me.