Trudging along the hall, I couldn't help but feel like I was five again, and still exploring a lot on my own. It was amazing how long it had been since I had done proper dungeon crawling, even though the mill looked rather new and hardly rusted.
With Ashley giving off her light, we went down the hall slowly. I led the way, tuning my hearing to pick up any sound. Once or twice, I heard sudden movements, but those were only mice, scampering around, looking for scraps. It seemed rather quiet, other than that.
I frowned and sat down. Ashley followed suit. "What's up?"
I looked at her. "I don't know. There isn't any sign of life here other than the mice. Do you think my dad fed us the wrong info?"
She shook her head. "He's Hermes, Brandon. He wants what's best for you, and what's best for the gods. He's definitely ready to help you no matter what."
I nodded and looked ahead, into the darkness. It was cold and you could hear the water dripping from the ceiling. I stared at the things around me. I began to realize certain things. The equipment was all moved to the corners, with what looked like weapons. I definitely caught the glint of celestial bronze in there. Turning, i saw many machines, such as onagers and catapults, parked in a garage. I saw armor and helmets, as well as battle diagrams to war with the demigods.
Looking up, there were many giant girders suspended from the ceiling, presumably for the use of construction. Cyclopes, I thought, they've recruited Cyclopes. No wonder they had so much stuff back at the camps.
I stood up and started to pace forward again. This time, I became more aware of what was going on. There were way more weapons and the mill seemed so much darker. After walking all around it, still, I found no one. That was until Ashley spotted a strange lever in the side.
"It doesn't look connected to any machines," she pointed out, "Maybe they're hiding in there."
I smiled the same crazy smile I always did. "Let's find out." I flipped the switch, which surprisingly did not cause a lot of grinding and shifting, but merely slid up without a sound. Ducking, I walked through to a spiral staircase.
I hate stairs. They're really inefficient and they require you to slow a lot down. Also, stairs give away your position if they creak or break. You end up going three times as slow as your normal speed, checking every step to make sure it's stable. And I could forget about running down, because chances were that I would destroy the stairs, trap myself, and cause a commotion.
Somehow, we made it down the stairs. Somehow. It took us like an hour, with Ashley insisting we go faster. But, I had done it before. I knew what I was doing. I could still remember that time I...
Too late, I realized my mistake, as my vision shifted, to eight years ago.
________________________________________________________________________________
I stared at Brandon as he collapsed against the wall, clutching his head. "Brandon," I hissed, "Now is not the time to be over dramatic."
He groaned, shaking his head, eyes closed, and put his face to his hands. I rushed over to him soundlessly, and reached him.
"C'mon, Brandon. Snap out of it."
He continued to groan and mutter, this time rocking back and forth on the ground. I grabbed his arm. "Come on. We have to keep moving forward." I guided him forward while he slowly followed eyes still closed, still muttering strange things.
When we reached a door at the end of the hall, I could finally understand what he was saying:
"No... no ...no, please ... I didn't mean it."
"Brandon, what's going on?"
"No, no, please understand..."
"Brandon!"
"Please, please don't, not again..."
Somehow, I could tell he was caught in some sort of trance, and he slowly sat back down and began to rock again.
"No, no, don't do it, don't do it!"
He started to shiver and to convulse as I tried to comfort him. "There, there, Brandon. Come on, snap out of it." I said, patting him on the back.
"No...no no no no no no no."
He lay down, still shivering and started to groan again. I poured water on his face; it didn't work. I slapped him a few times; it didn't work. I tried to reach his mind; it also didn't work. I could do nothing but stare at him slowly descend more and more into his mind.
"It wasn't my fault...he made me."
I realized it would be in these moments that I could possibly grasp part of Brandon's past. I crept over and sat beside him, ear pressed close to his mouth.
"He made me... I'm sorry... I just can't."
Tears started running down his face as he sobbed through the words.
"I'm sorry... I had to... He wouldn't have let me stay unless I did it... please... not again."
I became increasingly aware that I was shaking, almost as hard as Brandon was. What had he done? What had scarred him so much that tears would flow. Brandon was not the person to cry. He only cried to comfort people or when something truly disastrous happened. He curled into a ball, still sobbing and sniffling as I stood up, bewildered. When he finally stopped crying, he whispered something, something that I barely heard.
"I'm sorry."
Then, he went slack.
