Annabeth

When I walked into the training arena, my thoughts about the figure heard (or imagined) earlier were dispelled for the moment.

I loved the arena. I loved the tangy smell of leather from the training armor that was still in the air from the practicers last night. I loved the morning fog that drifted over the dirt floor, a silent ghost wafting in the morning air. I loved the welcoming whinnies that could be heard from the horses and pegasi in the stables neighboring the arena. I loved being the only one in here, minus the many life-size dummies that were used to train.

Walking into the middle of the arena, I grabbed the hilt of my bronze knife and pulled it free of it's scabbard. The metallic hiss hummed in my ears, my adrenaline rising just at the sound.

After the chain and the painting of my family a long time ago, my blade was probably the most well kept thing I owned. It was a new one, not my father's. My father's blade was now in a box under my bed. I was keeping it safe and well polished, but not using it, because I had found another blade.

Remember the secret passageways in Athena's temple that Poseidon helped me to find? Yeah, well, I like to explore those corridors a lot. I still haven't found the end, but I haven't gone that far down it. I keep running into rooms. These rooms actually have doors, not paintings that you have to touch a certain spot for it to open. Well, I've seen some paintings that probably conceal rooms, but most of them have just doors. A majority of the rooms are completely empty and bare, but every once in a while I come across a room that has something in it.

Like one room had about twenty crates of greek fire . . . which is super dangerous when you have that much. I didn't stay there for long, because I really didn't want to accidentally make one of the crates explode. I don't think Athena would take it too nicely if her temple got blown to smithereens.

Another room was full of paintings—beautiful paintings, detailed down to a nick in a tree. I only saw a few, because Poseidon had warned me in my head that Athena was on her way to my room.

You might be wondering a couple things—like what's the deal with Poseidon. I haven't seen him since the conference, but he still talks to me in my head. Just warnings to make sure I don't get caught when I'm exploring the passageway, or accepting gratitude when I thank him for something. There have been a few times when we have a pretty lengthy conversation, but they usually end up as arguments . . . I guess I still have that side of Athena when I talk to Poseidon. But it's hard not to argue with him. I mean, he is pretty dumb. He knows a lot, but he has stupid moments.Plus, the topic about architecture and battle strategy to him is like talking about how it was going to be sunny in Greece. He just likes to fight. But strategy and wisdom can be the key to winning a war, but he doesn't see that. So that's a frequent disagreement between us.

Anyways, back to the rooms.

After the room full of paintings, there was another room that was concealed by a tapestry of a little girl on the beach. Poseidon told me how to open it, and inside I found a room with a table in the middle. It was black—the dull kind of black that doesn't have any shine. That was the color of the wall and floor. It would have been totally dark, except four green, flickering Greek fire torches were mounted on the wall, sending a hazy emerald light dancing across the floor.

Right in the middle of the room was a simple table, made of the same black table. The thing that drew the eye in the room was the rose on the table. It was under a glass case. (The color of the rose was ebony. I'm not joking, it was dead black, and it was somehow standing straight up in a small bowl of water. I didn't know how that was possible

But then I looked closer and saw cracks in the water. It was ice. Small crystals reached onto the stem of the rose, clawing towards the flower—but it didn't get too far. The rose appeared alive—it wasn't wilting or wrinkling. It looked really healthy, actually.

I shivered. It may be alive, but it seemed as thought it represented death.

The room itself had an . . . eerie feeling. A sort of mournful tones. This room was depressing, and it was getting to me. I wanted to shrink in on myself and cry—why, I had no idea.

I had gotten out of that room pretty fast, but the room was bewitching. The black rose, with ice climbing in swirls up its grey stem, and the black unadorned table that matched the rest of the shady room—I couldn't stay away. I had been in there probably five times. You might say, why would you go into a room that makes you sad and want to cry?

Well, the rose is . . . horrifyingly beautiful. I loved looking at it, even though it made me become miserable. I've started drawing the rose, hoping to capture the artistic beauty displayed in the flower. I've asked Poseidon what the room was for countless times, but he doesn't answer.

I know he can hear me. He's ignoring the question. So I continue on.

About two years ago, I stumbled upon a room filled with daggers.

It was stuffed with the blades. You could see the ceiling and the floor, but not the walls—all the spaces were covered by knives. There wasn't any furniture in the room, just hooks on the walls that hung the hundreds of daggers.

I walked in and looked around, admiring the weapons. Most of them were plain, with wooden hilts and metal blades.

But I noticed one different knife.

The hilt was a black leather, carvings etched into it—elegant swirls that transitioned into jagged angles in an effortlessly smooth way.

The scabbard was also black and appeared to be made out of metal. It didn't have any carvings, though. All it had was three gems lined at the tip of the scabbard. Each were sea green, and each were gorgeous.

I had no idea if the gems were real, or if they were of any worth, but they definitely were beautiful with the black metal background.

I was enchanted with the scabbard and the hilt. I grabbed the hilt gingerly, pulling the knife free of the sheath. The blade was celestial bronze—a demigod's necessity. The polished surface shone my reflection back at me, and I saw myself half-smile in wonder.

I loved the blade. So naturally, I took it to use it. I couldn't help myself. When it was in my hand, it felt . . . perfect. I mean, my father's old dagger that I had trained with was good enough, but it was heavy for me, and because the hilt was made for my father, it didn't fit my hand very well. But this felt like an extension of my arm.

Taking it back to my room, I slid it under my bed in hopes my mother wouldn't see it. But I don't practice by myself everyday. Also, Athena feels the need to give me private lessons—so the blade was going to be found.

But I was a daughter of Athena, so it wasn't hard to find a sensible lie.

It went like this—"That's a beautiful dagger, Annabeth. Fascinating. May I hold it?"

I looked at my mother and replied, "Sure mom."

After handing her the dagger and watching her hold it out and test the balance, scrutinizing the blade for any defections, she handed it back and said, "A trustworthy blade. Where did you get it?"

I knew what I was gonna say. I had figured out the moment I took it. "Oh, you know when I was walking around town yesterday? Well, I visited Mito, and he showed me this one. Said he had recently made it. I loved it, so I used my birthday drachmas to get it."

Mito was the town weapon seller. I loved visiting him just because he was so kind. Smile wrinkles lined his aged face, and a hearty laugh would bubble in his throat every time I made a dry joke. He treated me like a granddaughter, I loved him like a grandpa. I had been in town yesterday, but it was just to tell Mito that if Athena or anybody comes down here, Mito was to tell them that he did make it.

"I just really need this. Please, Grandpa Mito." He loved it when I called him Grandpa Mito.

He looked at me skeptically and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you sneaking around daggers, and lying about where you go them?"

"I just need it to be—be a surprise!" I reassured him, stumbling over my words.

His gaze was suspicious, but then he chuckled and replied, "Ah, well, I guess it won' hurt. But I'll be telling yer goddess of war a lie if she asks."

"It'll be all my fault if she figures out. Thanks, Grandpa!" I told him gratefully.

Back to the present time. I grabbed my dagger, tightened my armor straps, then walked over to the first dummy.

I looked at the clay ball sitting atop the sackcloth-covered straw body.

Quick as a viper, my right arm snaked out and sliced off one of it's arms, then I spun around it, dodging an imaginary sword swing, ending up behind the dummy. In another second, the dummy had lost it's other arm. I didn't stop my spin and when I slit it's arm off, I kept spinning, and off went his head.

I nodded triumphantly before dissecting a few more dummies. This was just a warm-up.

After I felt my hands getting arm, my arm start to feel heavy, and my head clear in up and getting into the fighting mode, I advanced onto the opponents that move. They don't really move, they are just attached to poles underneath the ground, and the poles were in cracks that webbed across the floor. This was a separate part in the arena—a large part. It was challenging, because while you were chasing after the dummies, you had to constantly be careful to make sure you didn't end up with your leg down a crack in the floor.

I walked in and flipped the switch. The switch proceeds to alert the ground nymphs whose duties are to move the dummies from underground, making it as difficult as possible for me. They do this by holding the poles attached to the dummies and just gliding around. They can see me, so they know where to move and when, making it even harder to get these blasted dummies.

I moved onto the first dummy, taking a swipe at it. As expected, it moved before I could touch it. I chased after it, flipping and jumping over cracks. I couldn't catch it. These nymphs are fast. I was just chasing around one dummy, with a few more at my side hurtling parallel to me. Mid-chase, I swiveled abruptly, slashing as fast as I could at the one that was next to me. My hope was to catch the nymph holding it off guard, and maybe succeed in slashing it.

Sure enough, I got it. The head of the dummy rolled around on the ground, and eventually fell through the cracks.

I heard a clunk, then an, "Ow! Annabeth! That's cheating!" A clear laugh emitted from my throat.

"It's not cheating, it's called using your head. Heads are useful things," I teased. The same nymphs were here almost every morning, and so we've gotten pretty used to each other.

"Well, you used your so useful head to get rid of another useful head, so feel guilt, girl," the nymph said sarcastically.

I chuckled. Another good practice at the arena.

Turning around, I prepared to chase after a dummy. But something stopped me.

I felt a pressure in my back. Up high, right around my shoulder blade. My body froze. I attempted to turn around, but pain whipped its way through my body. I gasped and fell to my knees.

My eyesight started blurring. Blinking, I tried to clear my eyes, but they started watering. I felt something . . . warm ooze on my back. Like someone was pouring warm water on my spine.

The nymphs were yelling around me. Is this a prank by them? Why is there so much pain?

A metallic, tangy smell made its way to my nose. My limbs suddenly went limp. My knees buckled. I fell forward. Someone caught me.

Right before I blacked out, I saw the girl nymph that had caught me. She was crying. I saw Athena rushing towards me. I saw many people standing over me. Past them, several men were restraining one man.

The one they were restraining was dressed in all black. He was holding an empty crossbow.

Then everything went dark and silent, and my brain teeming with questions was put to rest.

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