Chapter 58.2: Melt cont.

Prytaneum

Melt

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"Mr. Jackson…" Ryuu murmured after I was silent for a long minute, the concern in her voice deep enough that I somehow mustered the will to open my eyes and look at her. For a moment, I thought I saw her expression shift, but it faded away too quickly for me to be sure of anything.

"I'm fine," I lied, trying for a smile I knew wouldn't be convincing. This time, her expression definitely shifted, but I quickly looked away, facing towards the open doors.

Even though I knew it was coming, what I saw was still like a kick in the balls.

For the most part, the workshop was empty, and maybe that was the worst thing. When I'd last seen Daedalus' workplace, when he'd been alive, it had been startling, almost vibrant—the type of place Annabeth and Rachel had been able to put their differences aside to drool over. A thirty foot ceiling, polished floors, open windows for the shining sun, and workbenches all around. There had been easels filled with beautifully crafted designs, computers and strange machines, and more. It looked, I suppose, like the home of the greatest builder in Greek Myth, but more than that, it looked like a home, period. A place that someone lived it, that felt person and alive.

The room the doors opened up to didn't. It was similar in concept, perhaps—still with the work benches and easels and such—but it looked like the kind of place that had been all those other things, a long, long time ago. It was barren looking, devoid of any of the signs of work and life that Daedalus' workshop had once been, lacking anything like items or tools or anything like that, any sign that it had really been Daedalus' who lived here. In place of all that, there was nothing but dust.

Mrs. O'Leary whined, the sound at once agonizing and loud enough to shake the earth around us.

"I know, girl," I whispered, reaching a hand back to touch her muzzle. "I know. He's gone. Sorry for getting your hopes up."

Her whimpers heightened and she pawed at the ground hard enough to tear hundred pound chunks out of it, shaking her head back and forth before simply plopping down, the side of her head against the street. She eyed the open doorway and the sound of voice began to slowly fade. I held my hand on her head for a long moment before taking a deep breath and walking by Ryuu, who'd fallen silent. Out of respect? Uncertainty? Who knows? It wasn't really what I cared about as I entered the large room.

Somehow, the room had gotten filled with cobwebs despite being closed, but I just brushed them aside—I was afraid of some of the things I might find, but not of spiders. There was a surprisingly thick layer of grime for a sealed area, too, and I slid my fingers along one of the table as I slowly walked by, feeling the dust come away.

I was too late. Again. I should have expected it, really—after the battle, Nico had told me about Daedalus punishment; to build things within the fields of Asphodel for all of eternity. Despite that, Hades could be merciful when he felt like it, and Daedalus was allowed to see his son and nephew on the weekends. Really, given that he was still building and creating like he had in life, it seemed more like a job then a true punishment, though that may have just been me. But then, how did Daedalus see it? When the choice was between living and being with the people he loved again, did life seem like a gift?

The answer seemed pretty obvious—and dangerous, especially to me. Because was that the moral of the story? Of the literal Greek tragedy that was my life? 'Sometimes, maybe you really would just be better off dead?' As life lessons went, that seemed like a pretty sucky one.

But then, Fate was full of fun, uplifting statements like that, wasn't it? 'You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, and you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.' 'But despair for your life entombed within stone, and fail without friends, to fly home alone.' 'The Titan's curse must one withstand, and one shall perish by a parent's hand.' 'Destroy with a hero's final breath, and lose a love to worse than death.' 'The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap, a single choice shall end his days, Olympus to preserve or raze.' Vague enough to be useless, specific enough to still feel utterly cruel. If the Fates knew everything, you'd figure they'd know when to fucking stop.

Most of those had worked out in the end, though. Too bad they chose the wrong guy for the last one.

The reminder, on top of everything, was almost too much. I wanted to snap at something. Ripped one of the workbenches out of the ground and throwing it at the wall would have been pointless, but who really knows without trying? Same for breaking an easel over a knee or kicking down a wall. It would have been stupid and childish and more—but who cares? I was in the mood to be pretty damn stupid and childish right now.

But the sound of something dripping to the floor stopped me and it was only then that I realized my fists were clenched so tightly they hurt. Looking down at my hands and forcing them to open despite the painfully tight muscles in my arms, I saw little red crescents in my palms—but instead of welling with blood, water poured from the small cuts, streaming down between my fingers. It hurt, stinging at my hands like salt was being rubbed in the wounds which, I guess, they kind of were. The pain startled me for a moment, but made me focus too, and as a small puddle formed around me, I took a deep breath.

I hadn't even noticed I was drawing out my power, though whether that was because of how shitty I felt right now or because of my increased Magic, I wasn't sure. Either way, the thought of lashing out randomly with my power and accidently crushing someone because I was mad at the world made me feel embarrassed and ashamed, like my mother's rare chastisements. I'd always tried not to cause her trouble or break my word to her or do anything that might hurt her—but in the end, I was still me and it still happened even though I didn't want it to, and I'd be reminded that I had to do better.

So, instead of using it to wreck the house of a friend in anger, I mustered up that feeling and guided it along the floor, sweeping up the layers of dust. I controlled it carefully, cleaning without soak, scrubbing without staining, and tidied up the place quickly, like I was removing weeds from a grave. It was like a mop and bucket, minus the…mop and bucket.

…If I was better read, maybe I wouldn't be me.

In the process of cleaning, however, I felt the water brush against something and looked towards it with a frown. The water under one of the workbenches flowed out, carrying something shiny with it, and I knelt down to take a closer look.

Immediately, I knew it was something strange. Whatever it was, it looked like a crystal, except metallic instead of crystalline, and formed into a wide band with an odd clasp on it. It seemed almost like a watch at first glance, but it didn't have an actual watch on it, instead simply being marked by the Delta symbol on the center point.

Like a crystal, except not a crystal. Like a watch, except not a watch. I was on a roll today.

It looked almost like a diamond, white and translucent, but that wasn't quite right. It looked as if someone had combined diamonds and silver into a single thing, and then made it into a…bracelet, I guess? But what was it doing here, when everything else was apparently gone? He hadn't dropped and forgotten about it, had he? That didn't really seem like something a child of Athena would do. As far as I could tell, Annabeth never forgot anything I did wrong, ever.

Then, was it supposed to be here? But after the wall and the riddle and all that, what kind of security was 'hide it under a bench'? Was the idea that anyone who found the empty workshop would be too disheartened to look it over? Was it meant to be found, then, by anyone sad or OCD enough to actually clean up?

Uncertain, I turned it around in my hands, looking at it carefully as I poked and prodded its gleaming surface. After a minute, I came to a conclusion—I had no idea what it was. So I just pushed down on the Delta symbol and waited to see what happened, and slowly, blue symbols appeared around the band.

'If you wish to fly,' it read. 'Make your own wings.'

"Go on, Perdix," I could almost hear Daedalus say again, voice as soft as the first time. "Make your own wings. Be quick about it."

I closed my eyes again, trying to shake the dark thoughts away.

Knowing Daedalus, it could have been pretty much anything, from a secret doom laser to a very ritzy USB drive—anything from a weapon to a key to part of some grand scheme. In the end, it didn't matter—I put it on and clasped it around my arm, watching utterly unsurprised as it shifted to fit perfectly. I didn't need to know what it was to carry it with me, for the same reason I'd carried Annabeth's dagger around, even though the sight of it hurt me more than most monsters.

Whatever it may have been, whatever its purpose, I knew one thing for sure about it—it was what I had left.

"Let's go," I whispered, turning my back to the room and walking out with my head down. "We're done here. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here for nothing, Ryuu."

"Mr. Jackson," Ryuu said, before lowering her voice. "…Percy. Are you alright?"

"I'm…the same as always," I hedged, shrugging a shoulder—before nearly jerking away in surprise as Ryuu hesitantly reached out to grasp my hand in her own.

"Let's go back," She said. "To the Hostess. I want to see everyone again."

I was silent for a long moment, surprised—but then I smiled.

"Yeah," I said. "Me, too. But can you lead the way? I think I'm lost."