“We merely sought
your help,” voices reply, so many voices. It's become impossible
for Fiona to tell if they're male or female, young or old, there
seems to be so many of them, and all of them speaking at once.
Before her, she's sure
that more figures have gathered, but again she can't count them as
each seems blurred and surrounded by shadows. The shadows themselves
running into each other, while the churning in her stomach grabs most
of her attention.
“Help with what?”
she manages to gasp while concentrating on her breathing, swallowing
desperately to keep her stomach down.
“To keep Olympus
safe,” they all reply at once, a cacophony that assails her from
all directions.
“Safe?” she
sputters, gagging as she speaks.
“In the trials that
are to come,” they say, almost overwhelming her, “Yours is the
voice that will be heard.”
“That's entirely
enough of that,” a new voice, deep and resonant says behind her.
She feels a hand grasping at her collar, pulling her backwards.
