You and Percy Jackson wake up in a cold, dark cavern, wrists bound in celestial bronze chains. The last thing you remember is being ambushed by sea monsters while searching for an artifact in the Atlantic. Now, the water is rising—fast.

Percy yanks at his restraints, his sea-green eyes wide with frustration. “This is bad,” he mutters.

The water climbs past your chest. Unlike Percy, you can’t breathe underwater. You tilt your head back as it reaches your chin, gulping down precious air.

“I’ll get us out,” Percy promises. But when he tries to summon the water, his chains glow with a sickly green light. A curse. His powers are useless.

The water reaches your nose. You suck in one last breath before you go under.

Your lungs burn almost immediately. Percy shouts your name through the water, but it’s distant, muffled. He grabs you, his grip tight, his expression panicked.

He moves fast. Instead of fighting the chains, he shifts, pressing his forehead against yours, trying to keep you calm. Then, with a determined look, he exhales a stream of oxygen into your mouth. It’s barely enough.

Your vision swims. You can’t hold on much longer.

Percy makes a decision. He slams his shoulder against the cave wall, over and over. The algae flicker—something shifts. Then—crack. A hidden panel in the stone bursts open, releasing a surge of water that tears both of you free from the chains.

The current throws you through a narrow tunnel. Your body is limp, barely responding. You fight to stay conscious, but the world tilts.

Then—air. You break the surface, gasping, coughing. Strong arms pull you onto a ledge. Percy shakes you. “Hey—hey, wake up.”

But you can’t. Your vision darkens, your body too weak.

The last thing you hear is Percy’s voice, panicked but steady. “I got you. Just hold on.”

And then—nothing.