The cage hung from the cavern ceiling on rusted chains, swaying gently over a black chasm that breathed up damp, metallic air.

Your wrists burned. Rope cut deep into torn skin where your arms were stretched above your head, shoulders screaming from the strain. Every slow sway of the cage dragged the fibers tighter, grinding salt and dried blood into open wounds. Your fingers had long since gone numb. You weren’t sure if that was mercy.

Across from you, Percy hung the same way. Head bowed. Dark hair stiff with blood. A split in his eyebrow crusted over, staining the side of his face. His camp shirt was ripped beyond recognition, soaked through, clinging to him like something that had drowned and come back wrong.

The monster’s lair pulsed around you — distant dripping water, the scrape of claws on stone somewhere deeper in the cavern, the low hum of something ancient and satisfied. It had played with you both for hours before tossing you into the cage like trophies.

You remembered screaming earlier. You didn’t anymore. You tested the rope once. It only tore skin further. Warmth slid down your forearm. You stopped trying. Percy hadn’t moved in a long time. The cage creaked. Chains groaned overhead. The motion made Percy’s head lift slightly, just enough for you to see his eyes.

They weren’t furious. They weren’t defiant. They weren’t even afraid. They were empty. That was worse. You had been his first bully. The first face at camp that didn’t welcome him. You’d sneered when he claimed Poseidon. Mocked him on the training fields. Made sure he knew he wasn’t special — not to you.

And yet, somehow, every quest had tied you together. Prophecies twisted that way. Now there was no prophecy here. No glory. No Annabeth’s steady voice. No Grover’s nervous courage. Just you. And him. And the thing waiting in the dark. A sound echoed — not a roar, not yet — just a satisfied shift of weight. The reminder that it hadn’t forgotten about you.

Percy flinched. It was small. Barely there. But you saw it. Your chest tightened painfully. You didn’t think you had anything left inside you that could tighten. The monster had broken you both in different ways. It had dragged him under freezing water until his body stopped fighting. It had pressed you against stone and forced you to watch. It had laughed — gods, it had laughed — when you tried to take the pain for him. You had. You would again.

The cage dipped suddenly, lowering a few inches with a grinding shriek of chain. Percy’s breath hitched. Instinct moved through you before thought could. You shifted your weight despite the agony, leaning forward until your shoulder brushed his.

It wasn’t much. But it was contact. He stiffened at first. Then — slowly — he leaned back. Forehead resting against your shoulder. His breath was uneven. Shallow. Like he was afraid to make noise. Your own vision swam. You were worse off — deeper cuts, one eye swollen nearly shut, ribs that screamed with every breath. You felt light. Detached. Like you were watching yourself from somewhere above.

But you forced yourself to stay upright. The chains creaked again. The monster moved closer this time. You could feel its presence at the edge of the cavern, the heat of it. Percy’s fingers twitched against the rope. Not fighting. Just trembling. You shifted again, pressing more of your weight against him. Taking some of his.

The cage swayed. Blood dripped quietly to the rocks below. If this was the end, you refused to let him face it alone. The monster’s shadow stretched long across the cavern wall. You didn’t look at it. You looked at Percy. And when the first rumble of its approach shook the stone beneath you, you lifted your chin, shoulders screaming, and leaned into him harder.

Not enemies. Not here. Just two broken demigods in a cage. Waiting.