The Shadow Archer Twins

Now that I think about it, getting killed wasn’t the scariest part. Not by a long shot. All I remember was seeing a Roman charging the tall girl, and she didn’t see him. So, I did what my instincts told me to do. I saved her and risked myself. A fair trade, seeing as I had done nothing but sacrifice others, specifically Romans, to save the ones I cared about. And I know, it seems selfish to just go and get killed, leaving my sister and Emily and the rest of Camp behind to grieve, but I had to save the tall girl. I just had to.

Anyways, back on with the story. After I got stabbed, I saw an immense light. I thought it was too cliché, you know, seeing a light and all, but then it went dark. I mean really dark. Shadows made out of liquid fear and blackness swirled around me. But, unlike in movies, I wasn’t afraid. The shadows were soft to my touch, as silky as those fancy Japanese robes you see in samurai movies. What do you call those? Oh yeah, kimonos. I was falling through a sea of kimonos. I loved those shadows. Then, I landed on a wood deck. My knees buckled a little at the sudden landing, but I didn’t break anything or dislocate one of my knees, so I felt fine.

In front of me was a figure in a dark robe, using massive arms to move a single oar forward and back, pushing the boat along. But we weren’t in the water. As I looked over the side, I saw that we were floating above what must have been the Underworld.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” He said, in a strange accent. It was like a mixture of Dutch and Australian, coming together into one of the weirdest, yet most cool, accents I had ever heard.

When the robed figure turned around, he changed form, shifting into a normal human-sized figure, wearing a military outfit. I had no idea what country’s uniform he was wearing, and, seeing my curious face, he said, in that same accent,

“South African infantry, my boy, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter, is getting you across to my master.”

“You’re Charon?” I asked.

“Yes, my boy, which means that you’re dead.”

I looked at him like, ‘I knew that already’. His face changed from an expectant smile, to a surprised grin of admiration.

“You’re not complaining? Almost everyone says something to plead their case for life. But not you, eh? Interesting.”

“I embraced death,” I said calmly, “I shall face the consequences.”

“Good,” Charon said calmly, “No offense, but I hate it when they complain.”

Then, squinting his eyes as if pondering something, he said, “And yet I love it.”

We sailed, I guess, in silence after that. Then, his back muscles tensed, and he said,
“Wait! We have a visitor. One that isn’t dead.”

On an instinct, I ducked behind the only structure actually on the boat, a small crate filled with I don’t know what. In the weird light of the Underworld, it provided a shadow just big enough for me to hide in. Then, the kid stepped out of another shadow that was passing over the boat, and landed silently.

“Where is he?” The kid asked, in a deep but still high-pitched voice. He must have been going through puberty. All I could see from the cover of my shadow was a mane of jet-black hair, a leather jacket, a skull ring, and a black sword, darker than a nightmare.

Charon paid him no attention. Then, to my utter surprise, the kid walked up to Charon, put him in a chokehold, and asked again, calmly,

“Where is he?”

In a gasping voice, Charon squeaked out, “I try to make it my business not to deal with the living, Master di Angelo. It helps keep my job organized. Your guy is hiding behind the crate of Hellhound droppings in the corner."

Completely disgusted, I jumped from my hiding spot and screamed, “That’s a box of Hellhound poop? Charon, that’s, that’s—”

“Amazing,” Remarked the pale kid, “I never seen anyone as good at blending in with shadows!”

“Yeah,” I admitted, “It’s a thing I can do. What do you want, kid?”

“And he gets straight to the point,” He mused, turning to Charon, who had gone back to rowing, “I like this one. Anyways, why I’m here. Well, with the Romans currently fighting the Greeks, the Olympians are going schizophrenic, their minds ripping between their Greek and Roman personalities. Hades is doing this as well. And, after so many bad heroes and monsters were allowed to return to life, I thought, with a little convincing, that you might be a good candidate to be one of the good heroes that comes back to life.”

“You must be a son of Hades,” I guessed, and he smiled at being recognized.

“You’d be correct, Otis Holmes. I’m Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. My body is currently asleep in upper Maine, resting next to the Athena Parthenos. I’m traveling with Reyna back to Camp. This vision of me is more like a dream. But, I’m here to help bring you back.”

“But, being a son of Hades,” I said, getting to a point, “Means that you, of all people, should be bound to respect the laws of death.”

“Don’t lecture me on what I do with the souls of the dead, kid.” He snapped. “This wasn’t my idea, anyways. It was Thalia’s, because she felt bad about your death or something.”

“Wait, who?” I asked, confused.

“Thalia,” Nico said, as if I should recognize her name, “you know, the daughter of…oh. New camper. Well, she’s a daughter of Zeus who joined the Hunters of Artemis, who you seem to recognize.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I got a dream from my father, telling me they’d show up at some point. He told them about how they operate, and let me hear their hunting horn, so that I’d recognize it.”

“Good,” said Nico, “That means Apollo isn’t as disabled as we had thought. Anyways, Thalia, the lieutenant of the Hunters, sent me an Iris-Message, giving me the idea to bring you back. She said that it was a favor to her, even though she now owes me twice.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Nico said, “Ancient history. Anyways, Thalia contacted me, and convinced me that it was a good idea to give you a…second chance at life.”

He paused at the words ‘second chance’ as if they were a deadly weapon. As if they were something he had wanted for someone else, but had never gotten.

“And,” He continued, looking pointedly at Charon, “With a little help, I can get you back to the mortal world. You said you embraced death, well now, embrace life. Not many people get this chance you know. I suggest you take it.”

I looked deep into his eyes, and, even though he was much smaller than me, I saw a maturity, a soul that was much older than the body it lived in. Suddenly, I trusted Nico. I wanted my life back. He saw the change in my eyes, and then walked over to Charon. This time, he didn’t put him in a headlock, but rather, took a pouch out of his pocket and slipped it into his robe pocket. The pouch made a clinking sound as it landed in his folds, like coins.

“That’s enough to buy all the Armani you want for the next 400 years,” murmured Nico.

Charon purred like a satisfied cat, and then reached for something that was hanging around his neck. When he turned around, he was holding a bright green…TV remote. But the remote had only two buttons on it, one red, one green. Charon looked at me intensely, as if deciding between buttons.

Before he could make his decision, I asked Nico, “How long will it take you to get to camp?”

“Finally, he asks the right questions. I’ll be there in exactly 90 minutes.”

Satisfied, I looked back at Charon. He looked at me again, staring through my soul. Then, after nodding his head ever so slightly, he said, simply, “Enjoy life, Tox.”

He then pressed the green button, and I shot straight up out of the boat. I looked up and saw the roof of the Underworld, what I was heading to at about a thousand miles an hour. I thought I was going to be impaled, but I floated through the roof. I slowed down to about walking pace, and found myself drifting up to a bed. But not just any bed. A bed in the infirmary, with a guy’s body, my body, lying lifeless on it.

As my soul touched the skin of my dead body, we merged. The merge was the most painfully comfortable thing I had ever gone through. I was mortal once again. I took a couple breaths in my own body, readjusting to the limits of my form. And then, I opened my eyes. And after being a spirit in the dark Underworld for so long, I loved what I saw.

Emily was sitting in a corner, crying with my sister. Their eyes were red from tears. I saw Malcolm standing awkwardly with Izzy, facing the two girls. Emily was the first to see me. She screamed, and ran over to me. We kissed, and I had never enjoyed life as much as I had ever before.

Notes

Sorry this one was so long, but I think you'll like it. I mean, I brought Tox back from the freaking dead while including an important plot point from the original series and bringing in Nico di freaking Angelo! If that's not at least somewhat skillful, I don't know what is. XD Enjoy!