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Chapter Text

“It’ll be fine,” Percy muttered, grasping Annabeth’s hand as Frank, Jason and Leo desperately tried to secure the Parthenos. “It’ll be fine.” Percy repeated, quieter. To reassure Annabeth, who squeezed his hand tighter, and to reassure himself, that they would get out of here. They had to. 

Suddenly, Annabeth jerked backwards, gasping as she stumbled.

“What is it?” Percy asked, heart beating furiously within his chest. What’s happening? Not now, not when we’re so close-

“Her ankle!” Hazel shouted, pushing herself off of the ship’s ladder. “Cut it! Cut it!”

What? Percy thought, frantically searching the ground for what Hazel meant. Cut her ankle?

Annabeth was pulled backwards, closer to the edge of the pit, and then Percy understood. He lunged forward, uncapping Riptide and slashing down on the spider silk entrapping Annabeth’s leg in a matter of seconds. However, Percy realised, too late, that he had overestimated the distance of his leap. He tumbled over the edge of the cliff, gasping in pain as he just barely grasped onto a small ledge below. 

“Percy!” Annabeth screamed, throwing down her hand to him in desperation to pull him up. But it was no use, and Percy knew that. He was dangling fifteen feet below the entrance. There was no way they would be able to reach him. 

The pit shook, loosening debris. Percy’s arms and fingers screamed in effort. Nico and Hazel appeared over the chasm, screaming and yelling for him to hold on, that Frank and Jason would be there soon, but Percy knew that there was nothing they could do. The pit’s pull would drag them down with him. 

He remembered what Nico had said, about the Doors. Someone had to go below. “The other side, Nico!” Percy yelled, looking up at the son of Hades above. “I’ll see you there! You understand?”

Nico’s eyes widened. “But-”

“Lead them there!” Percy shouted. “Promise me!”

“I-I will.”

A voice laughed at him below from the darkness. Sacrifices. Beautiful sacrifices to wake the goddess. 

Annabeth was crying, tears trailing down her beautiful face. “No, Percy-you can’t-”

“I’ll see you on the other side, Annabeth. I promise you. I-I swear it.” Percy hesitated, knowing that his luck could only go so far. He didn’t know if he'd make it out of this one.

A one way trip. A very hard fall. 

Annabeth sobbed harder. “I love you.”

Percy smiled, loosening his hold on the tiny ledge. “I love you too, Wise Girl.”

And then he let go, falling into the endless darkness below.

Nico was shocked, mind numb as it failed to comprehend what had just happened. He distantly felt Hazel pulling him back to the rope ladder, scrambling forwards with Annabeth as the floor below started to crumble away. 

Percy was gone, and the pit was buried under tons of debris. They tried searching for him afterwards, but Nico knew in his gut that there was no use. The pull of the pit was too strong for mortals to bear. 

The rest of the demigods gathered on the deck of the Argo II, wondering what the hell they were supposed to do next. 

Nico shuffled forwards, wondering if he should say something. He wasn’t part of the Seven - he didn’t belong here. “If it brings you any comfort, he’s not dead. If he was, I would’ve felt it.”

Leo glanced up at him. “How can you be sure? If that pit really led to… y’know… how could you sense him so far away?”

Nico stared at the ground. “I can sense death from those close to me. Mentally and physically. Percy…” Nico knew that his and Percy’s relationship was strained, but after the Titan War, things smoothed over. He considered Percy a friend. “Percy is my friend. I would know if he was dead. Even though…” He didn’t finish his sentence. They knew what he meant. 

Annabeth glanced up at Nico, a spark of hope blooming in her eyes. Tears still trailed down her face, her eyes puffy and red. “Tell me. Please. Everyday, I need to…” She started, but trailed off, sobbing. 

Piper pulled her close, hanging an arm around Annabeth’s shoulders. Nico shared a silent question with Hazel.

Can you tell?  

Even though she held more control over Pluto’s sphere of riches, they were both related to the Lord of the Dead. They shared some similar abilities.

“We can’t be one hundred percent sure,” Hazel admitted, slowly, to Annabeth and the rest of the crew. “But I think Nico is right. Percy is still alive… at least, so far.”

Jason pounded his fist against the rail of the ship. “I should have been paying attention . I could have flown down and saved him.”

“Me too,” Frank groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I could have been faster, or-”

“It’s not your fault, either of you. You were trying to save the statue.” Piper said, gripping Jason’s hand as she continued to support Annabeth. 

“She’s right.” Nico said. “Even if the pit hadn’t been buried, you couldn’t have flown into it without being pulled down by the force of the pit. I’m the only one who has actually been into Tar-” Nico paused before continuing. “The pit. It’s impossible to describe how powerful that place is. Once you get close, it sucks you in. I never stood a chance.”

Frank sniffed. “Then… does Percy not stand a chance either?”

Annabeth glanced at Nico, terrified at his response.

He twisted his silver skull ring. “Percy is the most powerful demigod I’ve ever met. No offence to you guys, but it’s true. If anyone could survive, it’d be him. He’s going to find a way though Tartarus.”

Jason turned to him. “To the Doors of Death, you mean. But you told us it’s guarded by Gaea’s most powerful forces. How could he-?”

“I don’t know,” Nico admitted, and Annabeth let out a small sob. 

“But, Percy told me to lead you guys to Epirus, to the mortal side of the doorway. He’s planning on meeting us there. If we can survive the House of Hades, fight our way through Gaea’s forces, then maybe we can work with Percy to seal the Doors of Death from both sides.”

“And rescue Percy?” Annabeth asked, desperate. 

Nico didn’t want to get her hopes up. “...Maybe.”

There was a deadly silence among the demigods when Nico hesitated. 

Nico took a deep breath. “I don’t know how he’ll manage it, but Percy will find a way. He’ll journey through Tartarus and find the Doors of Death. When he does, we have to be ready for him.”

Annabeth stood, gripping the rail of the Argo tightly. “We must. We have to.”

“It won’t be easy,” Hazel said. “Gaea will throw everything she’s got at us to keep us from reaching Epirus.”

Jason smirked. “What else is new?”

The cold wind whipped through Percy’s hair and whistled in his ears as he plummeted towards Tartarus. How long had he been falling for? Hours? One day? Days?  

He thought about that one poet Annabeth had told him about, way back when. Hemorrhoid? No, that couldn’t be right - Hesiod, that was it. Hesiod had speculated it would take nine whole days to fall from Earth into Tartarus. Would it really take him nine days? Did… did time even work the same in the pit as it did on Earth? 

Percy closed his eyes, terrified of even thinking of such a thing. That if - no, when he got out, if his friends would all be dead and the war already over.

The air around him grew hotter and thicker, heavy and damp. Percy looked below him, realising that the darkness surrounding the cavern was starting to take on a red and grey tinge. Was he nearing the bottom?

Almost as soon as he’d thought that, the cavern opened up and exposed the massive expanse of Tartarus below. Red clouds hung in the air like blood, and the plains below were scattered with jagged black mountains and deep, fiery chasms. The air smelled of sulphur, and… Percy gasped. Something else, something familiar.

Water! Percy thought, eyes widening at the black river below him. He reached out with his hand, grimacing. The water was harder to control than usual, though Percy suspected that was because he was in Tartarus. The same rules wouldn’t apply here. He was in the monsters’ home court now, not the other way around. However, Percy wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It didn’t matter that the water might liquify his soul or turn his skin to ash, because this was the best chance he had at surviving the fall.

With a yell, the river below exploded, and he fell into the dark, cold grasp of the waters of the Underworld.

Chapter Text

As soon as the water hit him, Percy started hearing voices. 

He figured that was a good sign.

Percy pulled himself towards the surface, but it almost seemed as if the water was fighting back, pushing him under. 

Why struggle? You’re dead anyways. No one is coming to help you. Percy’s eyes fluttered closed as the surface of the water drifted further and further away from him. You’re all alone.

Gods, Percy really was all alone, wasn’t he? Now that he thought about it, there were no stories of heroes venturing into Tartarus, no accounts of any sort of demigod, let alone mortal in the pit. 

His heart sank. 

Percy was alone.

All alone, in Tartarus, swarming with monsters, and there would be no one to help him. Not this time.

All alone, left to die. Life is despair. 

Despair… Percy thought, agreeing. There’s no point. Why did I think I could beat this?

Tartarus was literally where monsters came to reform, where they spent most of their lives. Every monster that had ever existed would be out here, looking to kill Percy. He stood no chance.

The water was so cold, Percy’s teeth started to chatter. The voices never ceased. Everything is pointless, and then you die. Die, painfully. 

Pointless… Misery, pure, pure, misery… Percy sunk, eyes closed as he drifted to the bottom of the river bed. His back hit the bottom of the river, and all Percy wanted to do was curl up and cry. 

His life was so unfair. 

Was it too much to ask to be a normal kid, living a normal life? 

A life without fighting, without death, without monsters. Just Percy, his mom, and Annabeth-

A jolt shot through his spine, electrifying his senses. 

You’re not getting away from me that easily, Seaweed Brain.

Percy’s eyes flew open. Annabeth.

C’mon, Kelp Head. 

He could almost see her stormy grey eyes smiling down at him, reaching out with a hand to pull him up. 

What about our plans for New Rome?

Percy swirled the water below him, forming a small whirlpool that boosted him towards the surface. As the water broke, he gasped for air, glancing around for the shoreline before starting to swim over. 

Annabeth…. He had promised. Percy had sworn to her that he would find a way out, a way back to her, whatever it took. Percy was gonna get out of this pit, and then he and Annabeth were going to go to college together in New Rome, build a life together…

Percy hauled himself on shor, shivering and gasping from the shocking cold of the river. He was so cold, it hurt. The shock sunk in as Percy took in his surroundings. 

He was in Tartarus. The cavern that he had fallen into must have been over ten times the size of Manhattan, illuminated by the murky red haze above and fiery pits below. The river that he had landed in rushed by his feet, and the hot, damp sulphuric air hurt to breathe. Percy sat up, pushing off the dark sand, and let out a sharp gasp of pain. 

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. 

The beach wasn’t sand, like Percy had originally thought. It was entirely composed of sharp, broken glass, which had cut into his skin and caused rivulets of blood to drip down his palms and onto his arms. 

Great, Percy thought. Just awesome. The air was acidic. The water whispered words of misery and despair. The ground was shattered glass. Percy already thought that monsters trying to kill him was enough, but now it seemed like even the environment had it out for him. Which, maybe it did, considering their main enemy was literally the Earth itself. 

Percy coughed, throat raspy from the sulphur. “Gods, this place smells worse than my ex-stepfather.” He muttered, before standing and taking stock of the situation. 

First off: he had no food. He had tried to eat on the Argo II, but was too nervous thinking about Annabeth to really eat without it all coming right back out. As for water… Percy glanced at the river, but quickly decided that drinking from the river that Percy had dubbed the ‘river of sadness’ was probably not the best idea. Percy quickly patted his jean pockets, letting out a sigh of relief at the comforting weight of Riptide.

So… no food, no water, but at least he had a weapon. And he wouldn’t go down without fighting, that was for sure.

Looking around, he scanned his surroundings. The glass beach gave way to a steep cliff, illuminated in the glow of what seemed to be fire, although Percy couldn’t fully see over the edge. 

Fire… what had Annabeth said about fire and the Underworld? 

A nagging thought pulled at the back of his head, something important.

Shaking his head, Percy clambered slowly towards the cliff edge, trying to find the source of the fiery glow. He shivered, clenching his bloody fists as he carefully stared over the edge. His stomach dropped at the sight.

A massive canyon stretched far below, and a river of what looked to be made of pure, liquid fire ran through the bottom of the crevasse. Even up at the top, Percy could feel the heat that the river let off. It felt even hotter than that time at Mount Saint Helens, when he blew up a volcano. His face felt raw and sunburned, like he’d just stuck his face into Apollo’s sun chariot.

The memory of the river, fire and the Underworld came back to him, and it clicked. Right! Annabeth had said that the river of fire in the Underworld was also sometimes called the river of healing, because it was used to keep the spirits in one piece if they were sent to the Fields of Punishment. 

It was a wild gamble, but Percy was used to taking crazy risks by now. Looking around the cliff, he spotted a tiny ledge that he could try and use to climb to the bottom of the canyon. Grasping tightly as he could to the black, glassy obsidian walls, Percy gingerly stepped onto the tiny ledge. Barely the tips of his shoes could fit, but it was enough. Taking a shaky breath, he began his descent into the canyon. His hands kept slipping, weak from hanging onto the ledge of Tartarus for so long and slippery from the blood that kept seeping out of his wounds. If this river really could heal him, then hopefully those cuts would smooth over.

His arms trembled like crazy, and his vision blinked in and out of existence. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Percy stumbled over to the edge of the river bank, collapsing at the shoreline. Catching a glimpse of his arms, Percy let out a strangled noise of surprise. He was covered with burning red blisters and boils. It looked like he was some heavily diseased smallpox victim. Tartarus was slowly, and painfully, killing him. This river needed to work. If it didn’t, he would die. Percy felt that in his gut.

Cinders and curls of liquid fire leapt from the river as it licked the shoreline, leaving even more burns on Percy’s skin. He hissed at the pain through his blistered throat, before throwing his hands into the river. 

At first touch, it wasn’t hot. It felt cold, which probably meant it was so hot his skin was melting. But, before the pain could register, Percy could see the blisters and burns slowly fading away, and his bleeding palms started to scar over. 

He pulled his arms out of the river in shock. Percy didn’t feel… great, but he felt better. The sulphuric air that burned his skin was almost diluted by the fire, keeping the poison from seeping in further through his pores. 

Percy took a ragged breath, pushing himself up on his knees. While the fire may have healed his arms, it did nothing for his throat and lungs. Every breath hurt more and more, each gasp for air more effortful than the last. 

A harsh cough into his fist made Percy see red, literally. His curled hand was splattered with blood, and bile rose in his throat. 

Oh, gods. 

Another hesitant glance at the river.

Could he…?

Percy pulled himself forwards, staggering once more to the river side. 

Drinking water from the river of sadness was a bad idea. But drinking it from the river of healing, when it had just cleared his arms of all visible wounds? 

Another horrible cough wracked Percy’s body, splattering red on the obsidian glass sand. His vision fading, Percy quickly cupped a handful of liquid fire and took a shaky sip. 

Gods, that’s awful. Percy thought, shaking and retching as the fire coursed through his veins. It felt like his insides were lit aflame; any tears that formed from the pain evaporated from the pure heat emanating from the fire. 

However, the pain quickly disappeared, as did the discomfort plaguing his throat and lungs. 

“Ugh,” Percy groaned, standing up. “Spicy, yet disgusting.” The fire did nothing to quench his thirst or relieve his hunger, but it kept him alive, and that was all he needed. At least, for now.

Taking a deep breath, Percy examined his surroundings once more. Now that the pain had lifted, even if only briefly, he could get a full look at Tartarus. 

Tartarus. 

The reality of his situation hit him once again like the weight of the sky, heavy on his shoulders. Percy had never really thought about what Tartarus looked like, he had always just assumed that it was a large empty void of space, some sort of pit with no bottom. But this…

Percy let out a shaky breath as he stared at the blood red sky and murky grey haze above him. This was a real place. He needed to find the Doors of Death, meet up with Annabeth and Nico, and then go and kick Gaea’s ass. For good this time.

He didn’t bother thinking about how it would be nearly impossible to coordinate a meeting at the same time, or that all of Gaea’s strongest monsters would be guarding Percy’s path. He knew the odds were not in his favour, but when were they ever?

Staring back at the river, Percy figured he had two options: upstream or downstream. Leaving the river wasn’t an option, since it was his only chance of survival. Downstream made more sense in Percy’s book. Down meant deeper, and deeper meant more dangerous monsters, and eventually the Doors - his target.

Something flashed in the corner of his eyes. 

A large, massive dark shape snarled down at him, eyes glinting and long, barbed legs poised to attack. 

Percy had time to think: Arachne, before plunging his hand into his pocket and uncapping Riptide, sweeping the leaf-shaped blade over his head in a glowing bronze arc. 

Arachne shrieked as she dissolved into yellow dust, covering the canyon floor in forbidden tree pollen. Percy frowned, kicking at the dust over the obsidian rocks. He felt… strangely dissatisfied, something he’d never felt before after killing a monster. 

She had died too easily, considering how much pain and torture she had put Annabeth through. 

She deserved worse. All Arachne got was a quick slash to her chest. 

She probably didn’t even feel that much pain, Percy thought bitterly as he capped Riptide. 

“Percy Jackson!”

A chill went down Percy’s spine at an all-too familiar voice. In a flash, Riptide was uncapped again and out facing the monsters in front of him. His stomach dropped. 

“Hah, how awesome. I don’t even have to return to the mortal world to destroy you!”

Five empousai stood out in front of him, and his old enemy - Kelli - stood at the front. 

One empousa, Percy could take any day. Two would be a little harder, but he could do it. Three, maybe if he had some water. Four would take a miracle and a whole lotta luck. Five? There was no way. 

Great. So he was horribly outnumbered with no backup. That left Annabeth’s favourite tactic: trickery.

“Y’know the Titans lost, right?” Percy said, wetting his lips nervously. Kelli was the main problem. She was a lot stronger than a regular empousa, with the ability to burst into flame at will. 

The empousai shifted nervously, glancing at Kelli hesitantly.

Kelli growled. “Enough. Gaea has spoken. The gods will fall.”

“You sure? The Titans lost because you failed. Why are you so certain you can prove yourself to Gaea?” Percy commented, adjusting his grip on his sword.

“Is this true, Kelli?” One of the other empousa questioned, who appeared older than the others. “Are you leading us to our deaths?” She asked accusingly with a pointed, clawed finger.

The empousai behind her hissed indignantly, glaring at Kelli.

“So? Whatever! The Titans lost, who cares. It was all part of the plan to wake the Earth Mother! Now Gaea and the giants will destroy the mortal world and we will totally feast on the demigods.” Kelli proclaimed, grinning.

The vampires grinned, gnashing their teeth excitedly. Percy tried to hide a nervous chuckle. Sharks in a feeding frenzy could be scary - but nowhere close as a group of hungry empousai with their eyes on a fresh victim.

“You’re servants of Hecate, right?” Percy blurted out, in a last desperate attempt to stop them from attacking him. 

Kelli curled her lip, amused. “So?”

“Hecate is on our side now. Some of her demigod kids are my friends. If you fight us, she’ll be angry. Furious, even. Might send you straight back into the void.” Percy wanted to give himself a pat on the back for that brilliant move. Surely, they would back off now.

The elder empousa growled, whirling defensively on Kelli. “Is this true? Has our mistress made peace with Olympus?”

“Shut up, Serephone!” Kelli fucking screeched, clearly quite annoyed and perhaps slightly terrified. “Oh my gods, you’re so annoying!”

To Serephone’s credit, she did not back down. “I will not cross the Dark Lady.”

Percy watched from the sidelines, slowly backing up as the scene in front of him unfurled.

“Follow me!” Serephone proclaimed. “ I will lead us to victory, in our Lady’s favour!”

Kelli struck so fast, Percy didn’t have time to raise his sword properly. But, she wasn’t aiming for him. 

For a second, Serephone and Kelli were a mass of scattered claws and fangs. Then, Kelli stood victorious over a pile of golden dust with claws covered in the tatters of Serephone’s dress.

“Any more issues? ” Kelli growled, glaring at the other empousai. “Hecate is the goddess of the Mist! She works in mysterious ways. Who knows which side she truly favours? She is also the goddess of crossroads, and expects us to make our own choices. I say kill the demigods! I chose Gaea!”

The empousai let out a shout of excitement, before slowly turning on Percy.

Percy readied his sword. He’d done his best, and even got Kelli to kill one of her own. These odds were horrible, but at least he had a better chance. 

Kelli’s dark eyes narrowed on Percy. “I wonder what happens when a demigod is killed in Tartarus. Doubt it’s ever happened before. Let’s find out.”

Before Kelli could strike, Percy lunged forwards and sliced Riptide down in an arc of sparking bronze, cutting down one of the empousa before slashing at Kelli. 

One down, three to go.

Kelli dodged, jumping backwards as her two friends shot forwards. One latched onto Percy’s back. The other grabbed his sword arm.

Percy yelled in annoyance. He furiously tried to pull his arm away from the empousa’s grasp, but Kelli was closing in for the kill. 

Get - off - me!

Desperately, Percy threw his head back, smashing the back of his head into the face of the empousa on his back. She screamed in rage, claws tearing through his shoulder as she fell to the ground. 

Ignoring the searing pain, Percy kicked out at the empousa on his arm before scrambling backwards. 

“You’ve nowhere to run, little demigod! Gaea will have your soul!” Kelli laughed as Percy limped backwards, toward the river of fire. His legs buckled beneath him. Percy brought a hand to his injured shoulder, putting pressure on it as he raised Riptide once more. 

The empousai hissed, a horrible symphony of grating laughter. 

Stay on your feet, Percy told himself, sea-green eyes catching every sudden movement. You have to beat them.

Kelli lunged, claws extended. Percy dove to the side, grabbing a handful of obsidian gravel and throwing it in her eyes. She screeched, doubling over. 

An empousa snuck up behind him, biting down deep into his already injured shoulder. Percy screamed in agony, stumbling backwards, further. 

The other empousa leapt forward, and Percy slashed Riptide across her chest. She burst into a shower of mustard coloured powder.

Percy’s vision was hazy, blurred by blood loss. He tried to stab Riptide over his shoulder, into the face of the attacking empousa, but she dodged.

Kelli was back up again, jumping forward.

The river of fire glowed ominously to the side. 

Ah, screw it. 

Praying to whatever god ruled over the river of fire, Percy threw himself into the river, taking the empousa on his back with him. 

Chapter Text

Good news: the empousa burst into dust immediately.

Bad news: the river was hot. Unbearably hot. 

Before, the river must have been so unbelievably hot that it felt cold, because Percy was sure his bones were about to implode. It felt like every nerve in his body was lit aflame, sending a searing pain cascading through his entire being. Percy’s mouth was open in an agonising scream, crying out in pain as the water burned his skin. His tears dissolved in the stream of fire. His tear ducts felt like they were being burnt to ash.

But then the fiery healing kicked in. New skin knitted over his bloody shoulder wound. The red, swollen blisters that had formed from the river slowly disappeared.

Percy breached the surface of the river, gasping in the sulphuric air. He fought against the fiery current, propelling himself towards the shore. He collapsed on all fours, hissing through gritted teeth as the pain slowly faded away. 

A harsh kick was sent straight at his gut. Percy tumbled to the floor, rolling over on the rocky plateau. Dimly, through his blurry vision, he could make out Kelli laughing from the shore. 

As his foggy vision began to clear, he watched as Kelli slowly limped towards him on uneven legs. Percy reached out for Riptide with one hand. 

It wasn’t there. 

Panicking, Percy glanced around frantically for his sword. Kelli was approaching quickly. 

As Kelli loomed over him, mouth salivating, Percy spotted Riptide fifteen feet behind her, on the shoreline. Right where he had fallen into the river. 

There was no way he’d reach it in time.

“Aw, not much without your little friend, are you?”

Percy blinked, staring blankly at the ground as a strange feeling started to build in his gut. 

“What was her name, again?”

His vision darkened.

“Oh, right! Annabeth. ”

Rage emanated from Percy’s body. Blood roared in his ears. 

He glared up at Kelli. “Take her name out of your mouth.” Percy spat. 

Kelli just laughed, eyes glinting. “Why, do you miss your little blonde princess?”

Percy saw red.

As Kelli leapt forwards, Percy quickly rolled to the side. Kelli’s talons made an awful sound as they scratched against the rock. 

She whirled on Percy again, teeth bared. Percy shot an arm out towards the river.

The river, like the river of sadness, was a lot more difficult to control than a regular body of water on the surface. Percy didn’t care. Kelli was going to die. Painfully.

With a defiant yell, the river answered his call. Streams of liquid fire burst from the river. With a twist of his wrist, the strands of fire wrapped around Kelli, restraining her. 

Kelli screeched in indignance, howling in pain and glaring at Percy. Unlike the other empousa, the fire didn’t destroy Kelli immediately. 

Good, Percy thought, I’ll kill her myself. 

“Let me go, you demigod scum, sea spawn-”

“Shut up.” Percy growled, before slowly closing his hand into a fist. The fire responded. 

Kelli tried to burst into flame as the ribbons of flame tightened around her, but Percy didn’t let her. He clenched his fist tighter, watching in sick fascination as Kelli screamed in pain. 

Another tug, and she burst into yellow dust, back into the void.

Percy collapsed on his knees, exhaustion finally creeping up on him. He panted, breathing heavily. 

He glanced down at his hands that had just controlled fire. 

He was the son of the sea god, not the god of liquid. 

Deep down, Percy knew that what he just did should have been impossible. 

Pursing his lips, Percy elected to ignore it. His powers saved him - without them, he would have been made into a Percy-pancake.

He stood, wincing as his shoulder still throbbed in pain. The river may have healed the skin, but it still felt like someone had pressed a hot iron to his skin.  Riptide had disappeared from the ground, returning in pen-form to his pocket. Percy patted his pocket, relaxing at the familiar weight. 

Turning back the river of fire, Percy slowly started to make his way downstream. The river’s heat baked his skin, and every breath was a mouthful of sulphur and grit. His clothes were in tatters, like he’d just been run through by a Hellhound racing after a large stuffed toy dracaena. Percy would know, he’d seen it happen in person. He was desperately hungry, thirsty, exhausted and insanely paranoid. Every time a shadow moved on the walls, a jolt ran down Percy’s spine, like he was being watched. Every jagged outcropping of black rock looked like a monster. 

He slowly stumbled along the river bank, taking a break for a horrible drink of fire water whenever he felt his vision getting too blurry. Time seemed impossible to judge - one step felt like an hour, but it seemed like he arrived at the edge of the cliff in a second. 

Percy was glad he stopped himself in time - one wrong move and he would have tumbled over the edge. At the bottom of the cliff, Tartarus expanded into a large, ash-grey plain dotted with clusters of black poplar trees. The river of fire jutted across the landscape like a horrible scar. But the worst part were the strange, bubble-like blisters that covered the ground. Every so often, they would swell and burst, disgorging a monster like a larva from an egg. 

Percy swallowed nervously. Suddenly, he wasn’t so hungry anymore. 

The monsters all crawled and hobbled in the same direction - towards a mass of towering black fog in the distance. The longer he looked at the storm of fog, the worse the fear in his stomach grew. 

But he had to push on. 

If the Doors of Death were that way, then it was his only chance to get back home. 

To get back to Annabeth. 

To get back to his Mom. 

Gods, when was the last time he had seen his Mom?

Percy bit his lip to prevent it from trembling.

All he wanted was to see his Mom again. He missed her so much. 

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Percy crouched down and slowly, carefully started down the cliff. He tried to keep the thoughts of his family and Annabeth out of his head. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not when he was over a hundred feet in the air.

His stomach jumped as he stumbled, breaking off a piece of the rock he was standing on and sending a small rock slide tumbling down the cliff. Shakily, Percy adjusted his grip on the glassy rocks and continued down. He tried to keep upbeat. It could have been worse. He could’ve fallen headfirst into the River Lethe, messed up his powers and lost all his memories. For the second time. 

Goosebumps formed on his skin at the mere thought. Stumbling around the West Coast of America with no thoughts except for Annabeth’s name was definitely one of the worst events in his short, sad, demigod life. 

Another memory formed in Percy’s head, of a small quest that he took with Nico and Thalia. They had fought a Titan, and Percy had beat Iapetus by throwing him in the Lethe. 

What was his name again?

Percy paused his climb. “Bob.” He muttered, chuckling slightly under his breath. The sound was fresh to his ears. 

As he continued down the cliff, he wondered if Tartarus had even ever heard a laugh of joy before. 

Running into a Titan would be horrible. Percy was in no shape to deal with any monster, much less a Titan. His body was running purely on adrenaline. He shuddered to think about running into the remains of Kronos - billions of angry particles swirling lazily through the blood-coloured clouds and hazy sulphuric fog. 

Percy pushed the thought from his mind, going into autopilot as he climbed down the cliff. His fingers cramped, covered in painful blisters and cuts. He was shaking constantly - and Percy didn’t know if it was from hunger or fear. 

Keep climbing, he told himself. 

Cheeseburgers, his stomach growled.

Shut up, he thought back. 

With fries, his stomach complained. 

Finally, he reached the bottom of the cliff. Percy collapsed on the ground, which was no longer made of glassy obsidian. It was warm and smooth. Curiously, Percy scooped up a small handful of dirt and gravel. 

Percy tried not to throw up. 

Beneath the dirt, the ground was made up of a smooth membrane… too much like skin. 

Percy gagged, his mouth filling with fiery bile. Looking around, the ridges looked less like mountains and more like teeth. The stalagmites of rock looked like broken ribs. 

He tried forcing those thoughts aside. Tartarus was just freaking him out, that was it. There was no crazy being watching him, no strange presence aware of him. Nope, definitely not. 

As he stood, Percy watched another blister burst, releasing a telkhine. Percy reached for Riptide, but it didn’t crawl towards him. The monster stumbled down towards the cliffs, but it didn’t get very far. 

A mass of black pounced out of a cave entrance, and the telkhine was reduced to ash in seconds. 

Hellhounds. 

Percy swallowed down the sour aftertaste of firewater. He tried to sneak slowly towards the river bank.

Seven, large furry heads snapped towards him, growling. 

Dread built in Percy’s gut.

There was no use in running - he’d seen Mrs. O’Leary when it was dinner time. They would be on him in a matter of seconds. 

The hellhounds approached slowly. Their growls sounded like laughter - like they knew that Percy was already dead. 

He raised Riptide as the hellhounds pounced. He brought down his leaf-shaped sword in a deadly arc, aiming to cut through the first hellhound’s neck like butter. 

Percy hesitated.

The hellhound looked so similar to Mrs. O’Leary. 

Time seemed to slow down.

Suddenly, he was back at camp, in the arena. He was playing fetch with Mrs. O’Leary, who ran around with her tail wagging. She bounded towards him, tackling Percy to the ground with a happy grin. 

He shouldn’t have hesitated. In that half-second he zoned out, the hellhounds tore down on him. Their claws mangled his skin, maws growling and biting down on anything they could reach. 

Percy was screaming at one point. He desperately tried to slash through the wave of black with Riptide, but it seemed like they just kept coming. 

Blood ran down his arms and torso in rivulets. His vision was hazy. He nearly fainted as he saw the mouths and claws of the hellhounds covered in red. 

Another hellhound fell to Riptide. His arms screamed in effort, the skin ribboned and destroyed. A hellhound bit down harshly on his sword arm. Riptide fell to the ground. 

Blood pounded in his ears. He kicked at the snout of an attacking hellhound, and tried desperately to scramble away. Percy’s hands were wet with blood.

Percy was jerked backwards as a hellhound’s maw closed around his leg. He let out another shout of pain. Another set of claws swiped across his torso. 

He tried to reach out for Riptide, but the hellhounds crowded his vision. Blood continued to trail from his arms like water.

Water. 

Percy could feel it flowing near him. The river of fire must have been close. If could just get to it, like he did with those empousai-

In one last, final attempt to save his life, Percy reached out with a hand and grabbed ahold of the water and pulled. It felt strange, unlike any water he had summoned before, but Percy didn’t care. It was something he could use. 

He pulled tighter, gasping as he felt a harsh tug in his gut.

The hellhounds shrieked in pain before disintegrating into ash. 

Percy didn’t have time to realise what he had done. His vision was hazy, blurred from blood loss and exhaustion. He’d never felt more exhausted in his life. 

Just as he was about to collapse, a shadow of silver landed in front of him. Percy tried to pull back as the creature reached out, but he could barely even move his arms. 

As Percy felt his consciousness slipping away, a gentle hand came to rest on his forehead. 

“Oh, Percy is hurt! Needs rest, yes. Bob will watch over him.” 

…Bob?

Chapter Text

Percy’s dreams were terrible. Which wasn’t saying much, since demigod dreams always sucked. But here, in Tartarus, they were twice as vivid and much more horrifying. 

He was back at Camp Jupiter. Hordes of hellhounds, rogue cyclopes and wild centaurs charged down the hillsides, screaming for demigod blood. The senate building was a pile of rubble and the city of New Rome was lit ablaze. Percy wanted to fight, to run and help, but his legs felt like they were made of stone. All Percy could do was stand and stare in horror as the beautiful capital collapsed under the never-ending waves of monsters. 

The scene shifted. Suddenly, he was atop Half-Blood Hill. A massive hurricane raged over the camp. Thunder rumbled and the sky flashed with lightning. The earth shook, opening deep gouges like canyons. Hundreds of monsters poured out of them, growling and thirsting for blood. Percy shouted, stumbling forward, his legs feeling like they were moving through molasses. 

The valley rippled, and the form of Gaea rose from the dirt. 

Watch, little hero. Watch as I tear your precious camp to the ground. She laughed. 

Percy cried out as Laestrygonians burned the Big House to the ground. Giants stepped on the cabins and crushed them to smithereens.

This is what will happen if you do not join me, demigod. Join me, and I will leave your home unscathed. Don’t, and all you know and love will be consumed by the Earth. 

Percy tried desperately to fight back, to scream that he’d never join her stupid army, but his voice was gone. 

You have until Athens. Choose, Godslayer.

Huh? Percy thought. Godslayer?

The ground below him cracked open, and he fell into darkness. 

Gasping, Percy shot up and nearly hit his head on marble. 

Wait. 

Marble?

Percy’s heart skipped. He was laying down, but not on the strange, warm dirt that covered the plains of Tartarus. He was laying on marble, solid, white rock that wouldn’t look out of place on Olympus. 

How the fuck did I get here? Percy wondered in astonishment. He was still in Tartarus - he could tell by the red-grey haze clouding the sky and the sulphuric air that still smelled like fresh monster breath.

Looking around, he figured that he was in some sort of broken-down temple - but who brought him here? And why was this building in Tartarus?

Percy’s memory flashed with silver. 

“Ah! Percy’s awake!”

Percy’s head whipped around, locating the direction of the voice. His eyes widened. He thought he was hallucinating. 

A ten foot tall silver Titan with wild hair wearing a blue janitor's uniform and carrying a massive broom lumbered towards him. Percy panicked, frantically searching for Riptide, when the Titan placed a plate of barbecue beef brisket in front of him. His mouth watered, filled with a sweet, familiar smell.

This was from camp. His camp. Camp Half-Blood.  Painful nostalgia hit him like a truck.

“H-how?” Percy stammered. 

The Titan lit up. “Percy called me! Yes, he did.”

“Huh? Bob? Is that you?” He remembered last time he had seen Bob - he had completely healed Percy’s bad wound on his shoulder. Is that why he felt so much better? Bob must have healed him after he had gotten attacked by those hellhounds. It still didn’t explain where he was, though. And the food. Where the Hades did that come from?

“Yes! I am Bob, Percy’s friend!”

Percy wanted to cry. There was something good in Tartarus. He had a friend . “Um… yeah. Thanks for the help, Bob. It’s really good to see you again.”

And Percy meant it, in every sense of the word. 

Bob sat down on the steps of the shrine in front of Percy, laying his broom down next to him. “Yes! I am helping. I heard my name. Percy was hurt, I healed him. Upstairs in Hades’ palace, nobody calls for Bob unless there is a mess. Bob, sweep up these bones. Bob, mop up these tortured souls. Bob, a zombie exploded in the dining room.” The Titan sighed, and Percy frowned. Is that really what Hades was making Bob do? He should be free to make his own choices, not work as some janitor for a lazy god. 

“Then I heard my friend call!” Bob beamed. “Percy said, Bob! ”

I did? Percy thought, confused at first, but then it clicked. Oh! When I was on that cliff. 

“That’s awesome. Seriously. But where are we? And where did you get that food?” Percy stared at the barbecue, incredibly tempted to dig in. 

Bob munched on a half-eaten hot dog. Okay, Percy was seriously considering just stuffing the brisket in his mouth now. “We’re at a rest stop! Hermes’ shrine.”

What. 

Percy frowned. “A Hermes shrine in Tartarus? ”

Bob laughed. “Yes. It fell from somewhere long ago. Maybe mortal world. Maybe Olympus. Anyways, monsters steer clear. Mostly.”

“ Mostly?”  

Percy didn’t like the sound of that. 

“They know you are here. Giants and Titans. The defeated ones. They know.”

A chill ran down Percy’s back, despite the bickering heat.

The defeated ones?

How many Titans and Giants had Percy defeated in the past few years alone? If all of them were down here, actively hunting him…

“Then why are we stopped?” Percy asked. “We should keep moving.”

“Soon,” Bob agreed. “But mortals need rest. Good place here. Best place for… oh, long, long way. Besides, food!”

Oh, finally. 

Bob nudged the plate of brisket towards him. “Eat! We have pizza, grapes, and peanut M&M’s!”

Peanut M&M’s?

“M&M’s for Bob!” Bob said happily. “Uh, that okay?”

Percy nodded numbly as he picked up the plate of beef. He had no forks, no knives, and his mom would have his head for eating with his hands. But Percy didn’t care. He didn’t care.

He wolfed down the plate of food, stomach starving from not having eaten in… gods knows how long. Percy nearly groaned at the taste. It was still warm, and the glaze was the very same spicy-sweet as the barbecue at Camp Half Blood. 

There was no doubt in his mind. This food was from Camp Half-Blood. It wasn’t just the brisket - Percy knew that Connor Stoll always burned a pack of peanut M&M’s for his dad at dinner. 

Within the next few minutes, Percy had eaten the brisket, a slice of pizza, and a couple of grapes. Bob finished up his M&M’s, crumpling up the packet and stuffing it in his pocket. 

“We should go now. They will be here in a few minutes.” Bob said, standing up and grabbing his broom. 

“A few minutes?” Percy stumbled to his feet, ready to run if need be. 

Bob scratched his head. “Yes… well, I think minutes… Time is hard in Tartarus. Not the same.”

Percy scanned the horizon of Tartarus. He couldn’t see much of anything. “Bob, which giants are we talking about? Which Titans?”

Bob shrugged. “Not sure of names. Six, maybe seven. I can sense them.”

Six or seven?

Percy thought he was going to throw up. Even in top shape, he would never be able to take that many at once. He wasn’t even sure his dad, Poseidon, god of the seas, could take six or seven Titans and Giants at once.

“Can they sense us?” Percy asked, although he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“Can’t sense me, Bob is different! But they can smell demigods, yes. You are a very strong demigod. Smell like… buttery bread!”

Oh, joy. Percy had always wanted to smell like buttery bread. Well, at least it wasn’t broccoli. 

“Say, Bob…” Percy started, a crazy idea coming to mind. “If you were the Doors of Death, where would you be?”

Bob hummed. “Hmm. Walking straight there would be bad. Very bad. Too many monsters there. Even Bob could not sweep that many. They would kill Percy in about two seconds.” He frowned. “I think seconds. Time is hard in Tartarus.”

“”Course.” Percy scoffed sarcastically. “I’d blink and be dead.”

“Yes,” Bob agreed. “Not that way. Hiding instead. The Death Mist could hide you.”

The Death Mist? Percy wasn’t sure he wanted to see that. But it wasn’t like he had another choice. “Awesome. I love death. And mist. Did I mention mist?”

“It is dangerous, but if the lady will give you Death Mist, it might hide you. If we can avoid Night. The lady is very close to Night. That is bad.”

“The lady,” Percy repeated, like he had any idea who that was. Oh well. His style was winging it, anyways. 

“Yes.” Bob pointed ahead of them, where the inky black fog rolled on. “We should go.”

“Okay, then.” Percy said, following Bob out of the shrine. “I guess we’ll see a lady about some Death Mist.”

The next monster blister nearly made Percy’s brisket come right back out. Laying curled in front of him was a nearly fully-formed Titan in golden armour. 

Hyperion, Percy thought. Gods, I hated that guy. 

Hyperion was a difficult opponent, one of the toughest Percy had ever faced. He had killed so many demigods, satyrs and nymphs before Percy had managed to summon a hurricane for the first time. Percy had pushed his powers to his limits before Grover, the satyrs and nymphs could form a maple tree around Hyperion. He frowned, his hands curling into fists. Percy had hoped that the Fates would have given him at least five years before Hyperion reformed, but perhaps with Gaea awakening, she wanted all her children alive and fighting. 

Percy was about to raise Riptide to burst the monster blister, when Bob shuffled forward. Percy glanced up at Bob, who was looking at Hyperion with a frown. A flash of concentration and recognition lit up in Bob’s eyes. Their faces looked so much alike. 

Percy cursed under his breath. Weren’t Hyperion and Iapetus related? If somehow Bob got spray painted with liquid gold, the two Titans would be nearly impossible to tell apart.

“Gold, not silver,” Bob murmured. “But he looks like me.”

“Bob,” Percy said, carefully. “Hey, buddy, over here.”

The Titan turned reluctantly to face Percy.

“Am I your friend?” Percy asked, tilting his head to the side.

“...Yes.” Bob sounded dangerously uncertain. “We are friends.”

“You know that some monsters are good,” A pause, “And some are bad.”

“Hmm,” Bob looked deep in thought. “Like… the pretty ghost ladies who serve Persephone are good. Exploding zombies are bad.”

“Right,” Percy continued. “And some mortals are good, and some are bad. Well, the same thing is true for Titans.”

“Titans…” Bob’s vision darkened. Percy wet his lips to hide his nervousness. 

“That’s what you are,” Percy continued, trying to keep calm. “Bob the Titan. You’re good. You’re awesome, in fact. But some Titans are not. This guy here, Hyperion,” Percy gestured to the golden eyesore in front of them. “He’s full-on bad. He tried to kill me… tried to kill a lot of people.”

Bob blinked. “But… he looks… his face… its so-”

“He looks like you,” Percy agreed. “He’s a Titan, like you. But he’s not good like you are.”

“Bob is good.” The Titan nodded. “There is always at least one good one - monsters, Titans, Giants.”

“Uh…” Percy grimaced. “I haven’t met all the Giants, so I’m not so sure about them.”

“Oh, yes.” Bob nodded earnestly. “One Giant is good. But! We should go. The Defeated Ones are coming.”

Percy agreed, but they shouldn’t leave Hyperion here. They needed to destroy the blister. “Bob, it’s your call. Hyperion is your kind. We could leave him alone, but if he wakes up-”

Bob swept his broom downwards and slashed through the glowing, bubbling mass. It erupted into a shower of hot, golden sludge, which Percy just barely managed to avoid. All that was left was a smoking crater. 

“Hyperion is a bad Titan,” Bob announced. “Now, he can’t hurt my friends. He will have to re-form somewhere else in Tartarus. Hopefully it will take a long time.”

“Thanks, Bob.” Percy said. “We’d better keep going then, if you say the other Titans and Giants are close.”

Bob nodded, and trekked off down the plains of Tartarus with his janitor uniform covered in small, golden flecks of Hyperion’s blood. 

Percy followed, thinking to himself about what he had done. He had manipulated Bob into killing his own kind. Percy didn’t know much about Titan family trees, but he was sure Iapetus and Hyperion were closely related. With how similarly they looked, there was no doubt in Percy’s mind. A sour taste rose in his throat. What he did, it didn’t feel right. It was wrong, abusing the trust Bob had in him. 

Pushing down his guilt, Percy walked steadily after Bob. 

Anything to survive, Percy thought. Anything to survive. 

He repeated the phrase to himself like a mantra. 

Chapter Text

They didn’t get very far before Bob stopped. 

“Monster?” Percy asked, one of his hands clenching around the hilt of his sword. 

Bob nodded grimly. “Ahead. Something moves.”

Percy tried peering into the dark fog, but he could barely see ten feet in front of him. However, he could hear a loud, deep growl that blinked in and out of existence. Whenever the monster snarled, the ground shook ever so slightly. Whatever it was, it had to be massive. 

“Together.” Bob murmured to him. “We’ll strike together, take it by surprise.”

Percy nodded. “On three?”

Bob raised his spear, ready to strike, when Percy finally laid eyes on the monster. The two of them stared in shock as a tiny calico kitten stumbled out of the fog. 

The kitten let out a small meow, nudging the sole of Bob’s shoe and purring loudly. 

“There’s no way. ” Percy muttered. “There’s no way a thing that small made a noise that loud! How the… what in Poseidon’s underpants is a kitten doing down here?”

Unless… A horrible thought formed in Percy’s head, a memory from his third quest. Before Atlas had managed to summon those deadly skeleton warriors to hunt him, Thalia, Grover, Zoë and Bianca, Atlas had tried and failed by using the wrong teeth. By accident, Atlas’ minions plated sabre-tooth tiger teeth and made a bunch of skeleton kittens instead.

“Oh, man… I know that kitten. There might be more of them.” Percy exclaimed, kneeling down and giving the kitten a scratch behind the ears. 

“A good monster?” Bob asked, watching curiously as the kitten played with a pebble between its paws. 

Percy shrugged. Monsters usually liked to attack first, ask questions later. This kitten just looked like it wanted to play. Besides, he had a good feeling about the cat. “Maybe? It might turn into a skeleton cat.”

Almost on cue, the body of the kitten flickered, showing a ghostly skeleton before returning to normal. 

“It is cute.” Bob said, before reaching down and letting the kitten climb up one of his arms. It made itself a home on Bob’s shoulder, closing its eyes and purring softly. “I will call him Small Bob,” Bob announced. “He is a good monster.”

Percy grinned. “Awesome.” 

Bob smiled back at him, and the two (now three) continued onward into the gloom.

Percy didn’t know how much time had passed since the shrine, but gods was he hungry. They had long since left the river of fire, and there was only so much healing that Bob could give him. His throat felt like sandpaper. There was one spot on his tongue that just refused to wet. If the monsters in Tartarus didn’t kill him first, dehydration would be a close second.

“Here.” Bob stopped suddenly, and Percy almost face-planted right into him. 

“The lady?” He glanced up at the Titan. Small Bob was still curled up, asleep. 

Bob shook his head. “No. Not yet. Closer. Now, we go sideways. Well, darker. And then sideways.”

Sideways. Of course. ‘Cause when did anything make sense down here? Percy thought. “I didn’t even know it could get darker than this.”

Bob hummed. “Oh, much darker.” The Titan turned abruptly left, and Percy followed. 

It was like he was being stuck in an air lock. The atmosphere around him immediately got colder. The air got harder to breathe in, like someone had put a big vacuum seal over Percy’s lungs. 

They were in some sort of forest. The trees that used to be dotted across the plains were now closely clumped together. Percy had to duck underneath branches that looked horribly like massive hair follicles. 

Oh gods, Percy had a sudden thought that almost made him throw up. We’re totally walking through the armpit of Tartarus.

A loud growl knocked Percy out of his thoughts. Small Bob stood up on Bob’s shoulder, hair raised and back arched. The kitten hissed, staring straight up at the sky. 

Immediately, both Bob and Percy looked straight up, following the kitten’s gaze. 

“Shit.” Percy muttered. Above, dozens of strange monsters circled around them like hungry vultures. A few perched on the trees. Some landed on the ground, baring their fangs and hissing loudly. 

At first, Percy thought they were the Furies. But there were only three Furies, and usually they tended to stay close to Hades. They wore the same tattered dresses, had the same glowing eyes, same bat-like wings and same sharp talons that could tear demigods to shreds.  

More crazy grandma demon ladies landed behind Percy, in front of Bob. They were circling them. Their hissing sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

“What are you?” Percy demanded, readying Riptide in case they made any sudden movements. Bob did the same. He adjusted the grip on his broom, and Small Bob growled angrily at the monsters.

We are the arai! A voice hissed somewhere in the crowd of monsters. The curses!

“Curses?” Percy thought out loud. He’d never heard of the arai before, but hey, you learn something new every day.

They laughed, a dozen grating voices that sent shivers down Percy’s spine.

Yes, Perseus Jackson! We shall curse you, destroy you a thousand times in the name of Mother Night!

It was then that Percy realised that there wasn’t anyone speaking. It was like a creepy narrator, a hive mind of thoughts that floated over their heads.

“Only a thousand times? Oh, good. I thought we were in trouble.” Percy muttered. 

He was almost relieved when the demon grandmothers closed in. Fighting - that was something he knew how to do. Too much talking hurt his head. 

Percy lunged out, cutting Riptide out in front of him. “Back off.”

The creepy-ass voice returned. You cannot destroy us! Curses are eternal!

“Bob doesn’t like curses,” Bob murmured, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Small Bob meowed in agreement.

Bob swept his broom in a wide arc, keeping the arai back like he was cleaning up trash. The spirits did jump back, but more rolled in to take their place like a wave.

We serve the bitter and the defeated, the slain who prayed for vengeance. We have many curses for you, Perseus Jackson. 

“Awesome. Thanks for the offer,” Percy raised his sword. “But my mom told me not to accept curses from strangers.”

One of the demons lunged. On autopilot, Percy immediately cut through her torso like butter. However, as soon as she burst into dust, Percy gasped in pain. Bringing a shaky hand to his chest, his hands came away wet with blood. 

They didn’t hit me. What happened? Percy swallowed nervously. The sides of his tattered shirt bloomed with red, like someone had run him through with a javelin.

Or an arrow, Percy realised with horror. Vengeance. A curse from the slain… 

“Geryon…” He muttered.

Yes, The arai cackled. So many curses have been set upon you, demigod. Which will you die from? 

Percy grit his teeth, trying to ignore the burning pain through his chest. He was starting to regret saying he wished for a fight. Percy wanted a fair fight. This was evil, something that a coward would use when they knew they wouldn’t be able to win on their own.

“If you kill one… they give you a curse.” Bob exclaimed. “How you killed it.” 

Great. But if we don’t kill them, they’ll kill us anyway. All-too familiar dread built in Percy’s gut. We have no choice.

How will you die, Perseus Jackson? The arai hissed once more. Crushed like Kampê? Disintegrated like the telkhines? What about frozen like the gryphons? You have spread so much pain and suffering, demigod! Let us repay you!

Percy wet his lips nervously. If what the arai were saying was true… well, Percy had faced a lot of enemies. Not only that, but he’d killed and destroyed even more. One wrong curse, and he’d be dead.

The arai laughed at Percy’s misfortune. Then, they attacked.

Percy was ready to run them all through, but Bob stepped forward with a shout. 

“SWEEP!” Bob’s broom spun over Percy’s head, knocking a wave of arai back like they were extra-large bowling pins. A few burst into dust, meeting the wrong end of Bob’s deadly broom. 

The arai backed away. Percy glanced up at his Titan friend with a baited breath, waiting in a horrible silence for Bob to be struck with some deadly curse. But he seemed fine, and happily swept back another row of arai. 

“Bob, are you okay?” Percy asked hesitantly.

“No curses for Bob!” He said with a smile.

The Titan already has lost his memory! Why should we torture him further, when you, Perseus Jackson, are his greatest curse? The arai wore crooked grins of triumph. 

Bob’s broom dipped, and the Titan faltered. 

Percy’s heart dropped. Fuck, if Bob decides to attack me too-

“ You did this?” Bob’s voice cracked. “My memory… it was you?” 

Percy couldn’t look Bob in his eyes. He bit his lip to prevent it from trembling. He knew that Bob was gonna find out somehow - but just not like this. 

Curse him, Titan! The arai screeched with excitement. Add to our numbers!

Right - whenever he or Bob felt remorse, regret or bitterness - the arai would multiply. Looking around, there were probably almost a hundred arai, screaming and thirsting for blood.

“Bob,” Percy started, crafting his words carefully. “It’s a long story. I didn’t - all I wanted was to be your friend.”

By stealing your life! The arai interjected. Leaving you in the palace of Hades to scrub floors!

Percy wanted to scream. The arai were not helping. “Bob, listen - the arai want you to get angry. They’re multiplying from our bitterness. I am your friend.”

Even as he said it, all Percy felt like was a liar. A big fucking liar - and Percy hated liars. He’d left Bob in the Underworld and hadn’t given him a single thought since. What made him friends? The fact that Percy needed him now? Everytime the gods used him to do their bidding and then threw him aside, it filled Percy with bitter rage. Now, he was doing the same to Bob. He couldn’t live with himself. 

You see his face? The arai’s laughter pierced his ears again. The boy cannot even convince himself! Did he visit you, after he stole your memory and left you to rot?

“No,” Bob murmured. His voice still shook as he spoke. “The other one did.”

Riptide felt loose in Percy’s grip. “The other one?”

“Nico.” Bob scowled. Percy couldn’t look at Bob, but the Titan’s eyes were filled with hurt. “Nico visited. Told Bob about Percy. Said Percy was good. Said he was a friend. That is why Bob helped.”

“But…” Percy trailed off. He couldn’t defend himself anymore. He’d never felt so low and dishonourable, so unworthy of having a friend.

This time, when the arai attacked, Bob made no move to stop them.

Percy bolted to the left, scrambling on rocky gravel before taking off through the forest. The beginnings of a plan slowly formed in his mind. The trees - if a tree crushed an arai, would the tree get cursed?

Quickly, Percy sliced Riptide through rows of black poplars. It collapsed on the pack of arai behind him, crushing a few dozen. It brought him a few seconds of freedom to think of something else, but the arai were gaining on him. 

Some chased behind, running on all fours like rabid beasts. More flew up over ahead, bat-wings beating swiftly through the air. Percy yelped as sharp talons sliced across his calves. Warm blood poured into his shoes, his no longer white socks now stained with a murky maroon.

The darkness in front of him got even darker, which Percy didn’t even think was possible. Suddenly, he realised what that meant, and stopped himself just in time. He tumbled to the ground, rolling dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. 

Glancing over the cliffside, Percy felt the strange feeling of vertigo shoot through his feet. He couldn’t see the bottom, the darkness was too thick. That could mean that the bottom was ten feet deep - or a thousand. Not taking that risk, Percy stood and quickly decided which way to go - left or right. 

But before he could make a decision, the monster grandmas emerged from the tree line. There were even more of them this time. 

Did you have a nice walk? 

Percy didn’t like the tone the arai were speaking in. 

It must be lonely, walking here all alone without your friend. 

Percy tensed. Something in him had a feeling the arai weren’t talking about Bob - or Small Bob, in that case. 

Where’s your little blonde princess, hero? Did she leave you to die? 

Percy’s hands shook. His vision flashed with red. His jaw clenched. His heart beat furiously against his chest. Percy had never felt this angry before in his life. He didn’t care how many curses he took. Percy wanted to make sure the arai went through the same amount of pain he suffered. He wanted to make them pay for even mentioning her.

He yelled in fury and attacked them all. 

For one beautiful moment, Percy thought he was winning. Fueled by pure, unfiltered rage, he cut through waves of arai like they were nothing. They weren’t hard to kill - they were slow and Percy found he could easily dodge around their brass talons. Arai that snuck up behind him burst into golden dust, Percy’s rage boiling their blood before they could even touch him. 

However, the longer he went on, the more he started to feel the effects of the curses. Some were harsh - a burning sensation that felt like he was thrown in a volcano, and a stab in the gut. Some were less painful, but more annoying. Percy’s eye twitched violently. A subtle chill ran down his back that made goosebumps form all over his arms and legs. 

The more arai Percy killed, the more that seemed to form. His arms started to weaken. Blood poured from multiple wounds on his body. He sliced through a row of monsters, but more grew from the ashes. The regret, sorrow and anger that Percy felt only made the arai stronger. They used his negative emotions to spawn more of themselves. 

And then, suddenly, strength and power surged through his body. It felt like he had just taken a litre’s worth of nectar. Percy’s vision stabilised. His wounds clotted over. A strange feeling of familiarity settled in Percy’s bones. 

The arai didn’t stop their attack. They continued to rush forwards, claws extended. Percy raised an arm to block, bracing for their talons to tear into flesh. 

The arai’s claws scratched against diamond skin. She screeched, falling back to the ground before scuttling backwards to join the others. 

Percy stared at his arms in wonder.

The Curse of Achilles. 

Curse. 

Percy let out a crazed laugh that almost scared him. 

What is this? The arai demanded. What is this madness? 

“Curses,” Percy grinned. “That’s your speciality, right?”

Achilles… The voice hissed, coming to a realisation. The arai grew more and more restless. Bah!  Perhaps invisible, but killed nonetheless! The monsters laughed once more. There is one of you, and hundreds of us! If we don’t kill you, your curses will!

With that, the arai leapt forward once more. Percy cut through swarms of the arai like a maniac. Claws tore against nothing. Stab wounds and cuts from curses that would have made Percy collapse of blood loss never came. Occasionally he would feel an uncomfortable jerk in his gut or a gravid weight, but it was easily brushed off. 

Percy felt unstoppable. Regret turned to confidence. Worry turned to hope. Anger turned to joy. For the first time since he had fallen into Tartarus, Percy felt alive. 

The arai stopped multiplying. Their numbers began to dwindle. He cut off the wings of one and the arms of another. Arai were impaled, mangled and turned to dust. Percy cut through dozens of arai so fast that it took a while for the final curse to hit. 

Burning, bubbling poison boiled under Percy’s stone skin. The son of Poseidon gasped, blood pouring out of his mouth and splattering the gravel red. His sinuses lit aflame. Blisters covered his arms and steam billowed from every orifice. He stumbled to the ground, shaking and retching. His vision was blurry. He couldn’t see more than five feet in front of him. Poison melted through the Curse of Achilles like it was nothing, laughing at Percy’s pathetic defences.

The beat of wings and sound of talons grating against rock told Percy that more arai had formed out of his pain, and were quickly closing in.

You have chosen, demigod, the curse of Phineas. They cackled. An excellent, painful death. 

I noticed! Percy wanted to scream, but his voice failed him. It felt as if his vocal chords had disintegrated. He remembered the gorgon's blood, how it had burned and seared him with poison from the inside out. This was worse, this was a hundred other curses and pains layered together in a horrible amalgamation of excruciating agony. 

No, Percy thought, gritting his teeth and grasping Riptide. I will not die like this. Not here, not ever. 

Because not only was it a pathetic insult to die alone in the depths of Tartarus, but his friends and Annabeth were counting on him to make it out alive. Percy desperately tried to pull himself to his feet, but it was no use. His limbs failed him. 

His head will explode first, an arai guessed. 

No, no, another arai interjected. He will combust all at once. In a blaze of fire!

“Bob,” Percy desperately croaked. “I need you.”

A hopeless plea. It sounded fake. Why would Bob help him now? The Titan knew the truth. Percy had played him, melted his memory and abused it. And Percy hated himself for it. 

“Please,” Liar, liar, liar. “I know I lied to you about a lot of things. But I didn’t lie to you about being your friend.”

He’s lying, Titan! He’s using you! The arai screeched.

The hazy red-grey sky around him flickered. As Percy began to die, his soul passing on, he began to see the truth of Tartarus. Any water remaining in Percy’s mouth evaporated.

The air swirled around back and forth, the breath of Tartarus. The rivers were the Primordial’s blood vessels. The ground was his skin. Everything that Percy saw echoed back to the god of the pit as a morbid dream. 

Deep down, in his gut, Percy knew that this was how Nico had seen the pit, and it had destroyed the son of Hades’ sanity. Nico… another person Percy had horribly mistreated. Without his help, Percy would have died. Nico, the brave, stupid demigod he was, jumped into the pit willingly, by himself, to try and seal the Doors of Death on his own. Percy had no right to be mad at Nico, to hold any grudge. Every person Percy had mistreated was just doing their best, trying to survive. Nico, Bob, Calypso. 

Nico, who Percy had held a childish grudge against. Bob, who Percy blatantly manipulated to become his friend. Calypso, who Percy had failed to keep his promise to. He should have checked in with the gods, or something…

Percy, through his pain, froze. A scowl formed on his face. 

You see his face? He regrets his failed life! He will die pointlessly! The arai taunted him. 

“No,” Percy muttered sluggishly. 

It’s the gods’ fault. They should have done something. Zeus shouldn’t have killed Maria Di Angelo. Persephone should have never tried to forge that sword. The Olympians should have kept their stupid promise. They should have saved their kids. Hermes should have saved Luke. 

A bitter laugh. Maybe Luke was right. 

As the arai closed in, Percy knew. Bob wasn’t coming. He was alone. He could feel the very life leaving him. He would be boiled alive from the inside out, the poison curling through his veins like liquid fire. 

But, Percy thought to himself, using the last of his strength to pull himself to his feet. I’m not going down without a fight. 

As he raised Riptide, a whole row of arai exploded into dust. 

Percy’s mouth gaped open as Bob leapt forward, destroying dozens of arai with one sweep of his broom. 

Bob seriously knew how to use a broom. 

And while it was certainly impressive how quickly the Titan disposed of the curses, Percy couldn’t help but feel confused, sorrow and regret.

Why? Why did he do that? Why didn’t he leave me to die? 

Bob turned to Percy, looking at him with sad eyes. Percy stumbled forward, trying to say thank you, but all that came out was a gurgled ‘uh.’ He collapsed forward, and Bob threw his arms out to catch him. He felt like a rag doll, his arms not doing what he wanted them to do. Percy’s head pounded. His knees buckled beneath him. 

Why? Why are you being so kind? 

Bob placed a gentle hand on Percy’s forehead. “Lots of curses. Percy has done many bad things to monsters.” Some of the pain lessened as soothing energy flowed through Percy’s veins. “Owie. Very big owie.”

Percy sank back into his body. His thoughts were muddy. It still felt like he was being seared alive. But the ringing in his ears had faded and his blurry vision was returning - Percy sensed that the poison had only retreated, not disappeared. But he was alive. Thanks to Bob. 

Just as his consciousness was about to slip away, Percy finally found the energy to speak. “...why?”

“Before Bob, I was Iapteus. I remember.”

Percy froze. 

“I promised.” Bob murmured, sincerely. Percy sensed no ill-intent. “Nico told Bob to help. I do not think… I do not think Bob nor Iapetus likes breaking promises.”

Percy’s head lulled against Bob’s chest. His eyes slowly closed. “Bob knows. Percy is truthful. Percy didn’t mean to hurt Bob. Bob knows now.”

Percy felt like crying. Bob’s embrace was so warm. 

“Bob cannot cure this. Too much poison. Too much curse. Not even the Curse of Achilles can protect Percy from Gorgon's blood.”

I know! Percy wanted to scream. 

A loud roar echoed across the plains of Tartarus. “I SMELL HIM!” 

Polybotes, Percy thought. A shiver ran down Percy’s back. He tried to move, to tell Bob to run, but his body wasn’t working. It took everything left just to stop himself from passing out. 

“BEWARE, SON OF POSEIDON! I COME FOR YOU!”

“Polybotes,” Bob muttered. “He hates Poseidon and his children. He is very close now.”

I CAN TELL, Percy wanted to scream again.

“There is one place,” Bob stood, strapping his broom across his back and adjusting Percy’s body in his grip. “There is a giant who might know what to do.”

Um, no, Percy thought, panicking. Giants are bad! We’ve been over this, Bob! But it seemed that his exhaustion had finally caught up to him. Percy’s eyes lolled to the back of his head, and collapsed into a deep sleep. 

Chapter Text

Nico hated being turned into vegetation. 

He had enough when his step-mother turned him into a dandelion, and it felt no better when that creepy farm god turned him into corn.

Seriously. Corn. The least the god could do was turn him into a respectable plant, like a pomegranate tree. 

Nico had nightmares of kernels for days. 

The Seven were on edge. Between loosing Percy, traversing the monster-filled seas without him, struggling with an impossible task (which wasn’t anything new) and having their de-facto leader, Annabeth, in constant states between horrible sadness and fiery anger, they were starting to lose hope. Nico knew his presence wasn’t helping. Jason and Leo gave him a large berth, and conversations with Frank and Piper were always awkward. Coach Hedge was blunt and straightforward, which Nico appreciated. The satyr wasn’t one to lie, but nature and death never mixed well. 

That left Hazel and Annabeth. Hazel was always willing to talk and listen. She tried to get him to open up about the Pit, but Nico would always go silent and curl in on himself whenever that… place was mentioned.

He never get the Pit out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, horrible memories of pulsing ground, grating breaths and terrifying monsters plagued his mind. 

Annabeth, like Hazel, always wanted to talk. She wanted to know everything about the Pit, what she could do to help Percy, if he was alive. Every time she asked, Nico would tell her he was fine. What he didn’t tell her, however, was how much his soul fluctuated. 

The amount of times Nico felt Percy on the brink of death within a day was almost more than his soul could take. It was terrifying to feel the life slowly drain out of someone and not be able to do anything. 

But, no matter what, Nico always felt Percy’s soul slowly come back. Whatever he was doing, it was working. Nico was just scared one day it wouldn’t come back at all.

Annabeth thought losing Percy for eight months without his memory was bad. This was worse. 

No demigod had ever gone to Tartarus and made it back alive. Annabeth wasn’t counting Nico - even though he had gone and come out more or less in one piece, the son of Hades had been captured by Gaea’s forces and used as a hostage. 

It’s better that than dead, Annabeth reminded herself each day as she tried to map out different ways Percy could make it out. 

She couldn’t lose hope, no matter what. Nico told her every time he could that Percy was still alive, he was still fighting to make his way back. It was some comfort knowing that Nico, who had gone to Tartarus, believed that out of all the demigods he knew, Percy had the highest chance of making it out. 

Annabeth tried not to hold any doubt to Nico’s words. She had to believe in both Percy and Nico. She had to.

Tartarus should have amplified the son of Hades’ powers, as it was the deepest, most concentrated part of the Underworld. But, even Nico was overwhelmed. What was down there for Percy to use? There weren’t many stories of Tartarus, and none of them mentioned any sort of ocean or water source that he could use. It wasn’t part of the Earth, so his Earthshaker powers would be useless. 

Annabeth closed her eyes, holding her head tightly in her hands as she prayed to whatever god or goddess was listening. Gods, help him. Please. She let out a shaky breath. She needed to stay strong for Percy. Find those damned Doors of Death and rescue Percy from Tartarus. If he could make it.

Percy noticed three things when he woke. 

1. He hadn’t dreamt.

Normally that would have been fine, it wasn’t everyday he had a demigod dream. But in the Pit, every night he was plagued by terrifyingly realistic dreams. He didn’t understand why the previous night was different. Not that Percy was complaining, of course. It felt like the first real sleep that he had since falling into Tartarus. 

   2. He felt better.

Like a lot better. Percy didn’t know if it was Bob or the Curse of Achilles, but it felt like new. 

  3. He was not where he passed out.

Percy was expecting Bob’s shoulder, the plains of Tartarus or maybe even the Hermes Shrine. He definitely wasn’t expecting a house. It was a large hut made out of strange ivory and wood and bark that reminded Percy of the black poplar trees that grew in Tartarus. Dressings of what looked like scaly monster skin hung on the walls, sewn messily into bags and clothes. But the clothes aren’t shaped for someone like Percy or even Bob. They’re made for someone bigger - like a giant. 

Didn’t Bob say he was gonna take me to meet a giant? Percy thought, nervously. He pushed himself up from the bed he was laying on, which, again, was giant sized. 

Looking around, Percy quickly spotted Bob and the supposed ‘good’ Giant. The Giant’s legs were covered in red scales and his hair was the colour of rust. Bob brightened when he saw Percy awake, and padded over to help him down from the bed. It seemed that Small Bob had curled up with him while Percy was resting. The monster cat slowly rose from its nap, stretched, let out a long yawn and then crawled up Bob’s arm and took a seat on the Titan’s shoulder.

“This,” Bob gestured to the giant behind him. “Is Damasen. He is a good Giant.”

Percy raised his hand in greeting. “‘Sup?” It sounded more like a question than a hello. 

The giant let out a grunt, which Percy took as a positive response. He was still half expecting the giant to surge forth and crush him with one meaty hand, but he seemed fairly calm at the moment. Still, Percy’s hands were never far from his pockets where Riptide’s comforting weight laid flat against his torn jeans.

“Hmph. Good. You’re finally awake.” The giant leaned down, so his face was nearly level with Percy’s - even though Percy was standing on a chair. “Now, we can talk payment.”

Percy’s heart dropped. “...Huh?” He said, dumbly. 

The giant sat up, leaning back against his own chair. “I healed you, returned you to health. I do not want your money,” Damasen said, which gave Percy some comfort. “But it gets quite boring down here, you see. So, tell me a story. You have a powerful aura. A demigod of your calibre surely has lots to share.”

A story? That, Percy could do. “Well, what do you want to hear?”

“You bear the Curse of Achilles.” Damasen pointed out, something that Percy had nearly forgotten. “One does not do that without reason. 

Right, I just got that back. A horrible thought entered Percy’s head. But.. where’s my weak spot? 

It had to be the small of his back, just as before. There was no other place that made sense otherwise. But he couldn’t think about that at the moment. For now, a giant needed him to tell a story.

Damasen was a good listener. Bob, too, enjoyed Percy’s story. He told the Titan and the giant of why he needed the Curse of Achilles, how he acquired his Mom’s blessing, Nico’s essential role in the story, and how it was only with Annabeth, his mortal point, was he able to retain his ground and successfully gain the Curse of Achilles. When he started talking about Annabeth, he could hear how his voice cracked and wavered. Percy trembled slightly, but kept going. He was determined to get out of Tartarus and back to Annabeth. He would see her again. 

After he finished his story, Damasen and Bob sat in silence. It was the giant who spoke first. “I see. And what of the sky? Do the stars still shine as bright as they used to? Does the sun still light even the darkest places?” 

The giant looked so desperate for some proof that the world that he once knew still existed. Percy nodded. “They do. The stars are wonderful. Lady Artemis has taken good care of them. The sun as well.”

Damasen looked lost in thought, longing to see a sky that wasn’t black, grey and bleak. 

“Why did you help me?” Percy blurted, breaking the silence. “You - you’re a giant.”

Damasen huffed. “Bob asked. Bob is a friend. Friends are sparse down here. We must keep them close.”

Percy admired the giant’s loyalty and friendship, even if his friend making recently was… lacklustre at best. It was then that Percy realised this was his best chance to get more information about his mission and Tartarus. Bob’s memory was hazy at best, and Percy had no recollection of any stories of Tartarus. 

“What do you know of the Doors of Death?” Percy questioned again. “That’s the way out, isn’t it?”

Damasen shook his head. “Impossible. They are too well guarded. All of Tartarus flows down to one place: his heart. The Doors of Death are there. But you cannot make it there alive with only Iapetus.”

“I will lead Percy through the Death Mist,” Bob promised with grim determination. “Past Night. We will make it.”

Damasen laughed, but it was bitter and lonely. “Ha! A foolish hope.”

“Then come with us,” Percy pressed. “Help us. Together, we could do it.”

“I cannot. I helped mortals once, and I was cursed for eternity.” Damasen muttered. 

Damasen had helped mortals before? Percy was confused, and it must have showed on his face because the giant continued on with a sigh. 

“I was born to oppose Ares, the god of war. Naturally, I had no thirst for blood like my brethren. That was already an insult to my dear Mother and Father, and when I saved my mortal friend from a drakon, it was a deed Gaea could not forgive. I was sentenced here, to Tartarus, where the Maeonian drakon re-forms every day and attacks me. Killing it is my endless task.”

Percy stared at the hut, which he now knew why the beams looked so much like ivory. He wondered how long it took - how many times Damasen had to slay the drakon to get enough material to build his home in hell. Surviving a few days in Tartarus had been the worst experience in Percy’s demigod life, which was saying a lot. He couldn’t even imagine being here for centuries, when time doesn’t even pass the same. 

He clenched his fists in anger. Yet another sin that Gaea had yet to atone for. 

“Then break the curse,” Percy muttered. “Come with us.”

Damansen chuckled weakly. “Don’t think I’ve tried? Wherever I go, I end up here. No, Perseus Jackson. My curse has overtaken me. I have no hope left. You of all people, bearer of the Curse of Achilles, should know that curses cannot be broken.”

Percy supposed Damasen was right. Even with his curse initially washed away, it didn’t take much for it to come right back. The River Styx had sunk deeper than just the surface, it seemed. It left a mark on his very soul. But, his curse wasn’t all bad. Sure, it left him more angry than normal and left him insanely tired and hungry, but to protect his friends, there were no lengths he would not go. 

“Then, make it a blessing.” Percy announced, looking Damasen straight in his eyes.

Damasen seemed to pause at that. For a brief second, he even looked hopeful. 

“To see the sun and the stars again…” Percy continued. “Isn’t it worth trying?”

The giant looked like he was about to say something, but then the drakon roared in the distance making Percy jump. The hope died from Damasen’s eyes. 

“See? My curse never leaves. But, you,” Damasen grabbed a bag from the table and handed it to Percy. “You can try. Here,” He nods to the green leather satchel. “Clothes, food, drink.”

Percy looked to Bob, who was regarding his giant friend with a sad smile. The Titan also had a leather bag on. Small Bob pokes through a gap in the top.

“Go,” Damasen insists. “The Defeated Ones are close.”

Percy felt horrible for Damasen, resigned to a fate that he refused to change. But he knew he could not change the giant’s mind, at least not in that very moment. He hopped down from his chair and glanced up at the giant. “There’s always another way. That’s why there’s three fates and not one, right?”

The ground shook violently. The drakon was approaching. 

“THE SEA GOD’S SON! HE IS CLOSE!” Polybotes roared.

Well, that’s our cue to leave, Percy thought. 

Damasen shook his head. “Go, before it is too late.” He stormed out the house and Bob quickly hurried after him. Percy followed. 

As they made their way out of the swamp, Percy gave Damasen one last look as the giant charged the drakon. He’d only known Damasen for a little bit, but he was already wishing the giant a better fate.

Chapter Text

Percy missed the swamp already. 

He never thought that he’d miss a giant bed made out of drakon leather, but right now that sounded like Elysium. He and Bob had been walking for what seemed like hours - but he had no idea if it had been days or even just minutes. It sure felt like it had been days. Percy’s muscles ached, and the cold was not helping. There was no inbetween in Tartarus - one minute it felt like Percy was walking through a volcano, and the other felt like he was being stuck in a freezer. 

Walking through the chilling darkness and unable to see a few feet in front of him was extremely unsettling. There was no natural noise - no chitter of a monster scuttling along the ground, no sway of poplar trees in the sulfuric wind. All he could hear was his shaky breath, his heart pounding in his ears, and his and Bob’s steady footsteps against the ashen ground. If Bob and Riptide didn’t glow ever so slightly in the dark, Percy was sure he would have gone delirious from sensory deprivation. 

Every now and then, as Percy stumbled into the darkness after Bob, a mocking, raspy voice whispered in his ear.

Your journey is pointless, The voice hissed. Every step you take is one closer to death.

Shut up, Percy thought back. 

You know deep down that this struggle is meaningless. You will never make it back home. You will die down here, alone and in despair. 

Percy wanted to bang his head against some surface to get the stupid voice to shut up. He knew it was just the spirits in Tartarus messing with him, but that didn’t make it less annoying. He didn’t need them to tell him things he was already thinking. 

His anger at the gods, Tartarus and every being that made his life a living hell (literally), drove Percy forwards. Every footstep felt like the remains of Kronos were swirling around him, slowing time. But he kept moving, fueled by determination to see his mom and Annabeth once more. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him and Bob, hanging over Percy’s shoulder like a devil. A cold gaze fixed on him, but Percy couldn’t see where it was coming from. All he knew was that something was there, following them. He spun slowly, holding Riptide in an arc to try and light the area. 

Nothing. 

Pursing his lips, he continued after Bob. 

How do you even know that your friends will be there when you get out?

The voice had returned. 

You no longer have a sense of time. For all you know, Gaea has already awoken, the gods have faded and your beloved is dead. 

Percy grit his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to stab Riptide straight into the throat of whoever was taunting him. But he had no sight on who was following them, no way of figuring out who it was. All he could do was trudge forward and try not to fall into insanity as the voice abused his mind. 

Then, the darkness parted. Percy tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. Not being able to see anything else than himself, Bob and Small Bob made Percy feel like he was being trapped in his own mind. 

Ahead, a small clearing surrounded by stones lit up a figure of a woman eerily. Her clothes, which looked like it used to be a dress, were in tatters. Her limbs were just skin and bone, caked with mud and looked leathery to touch. The woman’s hair was black, stringy and greasy like she hadn’t washed it in years. 

The woman was bent over, frighteningly sharp claws gouging the ground. She sobbed, wailed, and the sound shattered through all Percy ever hoped for. 

He was not getting out of Tartarus. The void would consume him and be left to torment for eternity. All his endless struggle was for nothing. This woman cried as if she was mourning the death of an entire world. 

“We’re here,” Bob announced. “Akhlys can help.”

Percy didn’t know if he wanted Akhlys’ help. Even so, Bob had jumped into literal Hell to try and save Percy just because he muttered his name. If Bob said that Akhlys could help him, she was the best chance he had. 

“Akhlys!” Bob called out as he strode forward into the clearing. 

The creature’s head snapped to them, locking onto them like some barbaric animal. Percy had to fight to keep his drakon jerky down. If her body was bad, her face was terrible. Her eyes and cheeks were sunken in, like the victim of a famine. Tears and snot poured down her face, and caked, brown blood clotted around her eyes. 

Percy couldn’t stand to meet her face, so he tried to direct his gaze elsewhere. 

“Akhlys controls the Death Mist,” Bob explained to Percy. “She can hide you.”

“ Hide him?” Akhlys’ voice felt like nails on a chalkboard. Percy tried not to wince. The goddess radiated so much pain and agony that it was hard for Percy to think straight. It was like he had been dunked in the river of sadness again, only this time it felt like a whole ocean. 

The goddess made a gurgling laugh. “Why would I do that?”

“He must reach the Doors of Death,” Bob insisted, and Percy fought back the urge to scream. “To return to the mortal world.”

You don’t tell your enemies your plans, Bob! But Percy was still struggling to stand up properly, fighting back against the devastating aura that Akhlys was releasing. 

“Impossible!” Akhlys screeched. “The armies of Tartarus will find you, and they will kill you. Painfully .”

It was really irritating to have humans, demigods, Gods, Titans and Giants tell Percy that something was impossible, or that something impossible was going to kill him - and then he goes and beats that impossible thing anyways. Percy rolled his eyes. He had enough. His building annoyance snapped him out of Akhlys’ misery. 

“Look, lady. ” Percy started with a tone of exasperation in his voice. “I didn’t walk halfway across fucking Tartarus to be told was impossible by some pathetic minor goddess, alright? If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a demigod, it's that nothing is impossible.”

The ground shook. Agonising misery rolled off Akhlys in waves so strong that Percy nearly collapsed from the overpowering sadness. Tears pricked at his eyes. It took everything he had to not fall to the ground and start shaking and sobbing. 

“ Minor goddess?” Akhlys snarled, her gnarled claws digging into the soil. “I was old before the Titans were born, you ignorant boy. I was old when Gaea first woke. Misery is eternal. Existence is misery. I was born of the eldest ones, of Chaos and Night. I was-”

Percy fought to keep himself standing. “Blah, blah, blah. You still don’t have enough power to hide me with your supposed Death Mist.”

“The Death Mist is not for helping! ” Akhlys shrieked. “It shrouds mortals in misery as they pass onto the Underworld, the very breath of Tartarus, death and despair!”

“Awesome,” Percy deadpanned. “Can I get an order of that to go?”

Akhlys struggled to her feet. Percy swallowed, gripping Riptide in his hand tightly. He tried to ignore the fact that this was a goddess - a Primordial one nonetheless. He’d beat Ares before. He’d killed Hyperion, battled with Kronos, Atlas and Iapetus before he became Bob. As for Giants, Percy had killed Polybotes with only little help from Terminus. He and Jason had overwhelmed Otis and Ephilates - a feat that had impressed Bacchus enough to help them kill the twins. 

After all, if he had killed Giants and Titans, Gods couldn’t be much different, right? 

“Ask me for a more sensible gift, demigod.” The goddess of misery hissed. “I am also the goddess of poisons. I could give you death - a thousand times less painful than the one you are already marching towards.”

All across the clearing, sickly sweet flowers bloomed in red, orange, pink, and purple. Percy’s head swam. He felt dizzy, frighteningly similar to when that gorgon’s blood had hit him. 

“Nightshade, hemlock.” Akhlys offered, stalking forwards, ever closer to Percy. “Belladonna, hembane or strychnine. I could dissolve your innards, boil your blood…” She cackled. “Or how about drowning, son of Poseidon? I can fill your lungs with poison until you can’t breathe.”

A spike of fear shot through Percy’s spine at the mention of drowning. 

How… how does she know I’m afraid of drowning? Percy fought down the building dread. No. It was a lucky guess built on pure irony. 

“That’s very nice of you,” Percy commented to try and cover up his fear. “But I’ve had enough poison for one trip.”

“Well, you wish for the Death Mist, do you not?”

“Uh… yeah.” Percy didn’t like where this was going. 

“The Death Mist only comes when you are closest to your end. If you survive the process, you will be able to pass unnoticed through the depths of Tartarus. It is a hopeless journey, of course, but if you are determined, then come. I will show you the way.”

“To where, exactly?” Percy asked. 

The goddess of misery did not reply, already starting to walk-slash-crawl into the black fog. Percy turned to Bob, wanting to ask if they should follow, but the glowing silver Titan was nowhere to be found. 

“Hey!” Percy stumbled after Akhlys. “Where’s Bob?”

“He cannot take this path,” Akhlys replied. “He is not mortal. Come now, Perseus Jackson. Come experience the Death Mist.”

Percy let out a shaky breath before following the goddess’s footprints through the glade of deadly poison. Soon enough, Akhlys reached what Percy could only assume was the end.

The air here was the most condensed it had ever been, so cold Percy was chilled to the bone despite the absence of wind. The thick fog had dispersed, almost like it had fallen over the edge of the cliff. He was standing on a ledge that jutted over a pitch-black void. Staring down into the depths, Percy knew that this pit had no end. One wrong step, and he’d be falling for eternity. 

“Here we are.” Akhlys said in a too-cheerful tone. 

“Uh.. great. Where is here? ” He questioned. 

“The verge of final death,” Akhlys proclaimed. “Where Night meets the void below Tartarus.”

“I thought there was nothing below Tartarus.” Percy backed up from the edge. 

“Oh, there certainly is something - even in nothing. Even Tartarus had to rise from somewhere, silly boy. This is the edge of the earliest darkness, my mother. Below, there, lies the realm of Chaos, my father. Here, you are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been. Can you feel it?”

Percy knew what she meant. If the pull from the mortal world into Tartarus was bad, this was a hundred times worse. It was so intense that the void seemed to be pulling the breath from his lungs and the life from his bones. 

He stumbled backwards. “I… I can’t stay here.”

Not if Percy wanted to die. But he couldn’t die. He made a promise to Annabeth. One that he intended to keep. 

“Don’t you feel the Death Mist? Even now, you pass between.” 

Percy looked down at his arms, stifling a yelp. White smoke emanated from his body, like his skin was dissolving. His whole body looked blurry, like some fuzzy tv channel. It was like he was a ghost, like one of the shades on Charon’s ferry, passing onto the afterlife. 

“Uh… I look…” Percy stuttered, staring unbelieving at his misty limbs. “Will I pass unseen now? Can I get to the Doors of Death?”

“Well, perhaps you could,” the goddess agreed. “If you lived that long, which - you won’t.”

As Akhlys bared her claws, more poisonous plants bloomed along the clearing. Nightshade, hemlock and foxglove crawled towards Percy, oozing poison and toxins that made him stumble. 

“The Death Mist is not simply a disguise, you see. It is a state of being. I could not bring you this gift unless death followed - true death.”

“You - you tricked me.” Percy growled, rage bubbling in his gut. 

The goddess cackled. “Didn’t you expect me to betray you?"

“Well, yeah.” Percy muttered. It didn’t make it any less annoying. Just for once, it would be nice to have some god help him out for free instead of wanting to kill him. 

“Then it is hardly a trap! More of an… inevitability. Misery is inevitable. Pain is eternal-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Percy adjusted Riptide in his grip. “Let’s get to fighting.”

Before Akhlys could lunge forward, Percy slashed Riptide right through the goddess, aiming to slice Akhlys in half. But it seemed like Riptide was made of smoke, and simply floated across Akhlys’ body like a breeze. 

Akhlys’ mouth broke into a messy grin. “Oh, dear. Did I forget to mention? You are only mist now - a shadow before death. Perhaps if you had time, you could learn to control your new form. But you - you do not have time. Since you cannot touch me, I fear any fight with Misery will be quite one-sided.”

She cackled loudly again, flexing her talons and flashing her fangs. As she lunged at Percy, he had a sudden thought. 

Well, hey, wait a minute. I’m just smoke. She can’t touch me, right?

The Fates, wherever they were, must have been laughing at him, saying: LOL, NOOB!

The goddess’ claws raked across his chest, which would have killed him if not for the Curse of Achilles. Her talons scraped against diamond, making a horrible sound that grated against Percy’s ears. 

He stumbled backwards, moving awkwardly with his smoky body. Akhlys screeched in annoyance once she realised Percy had the Curse of Achilles. She snarled, scuttling backward to rethink her attack. “You… you bear the Curse. Hah, no wonder you’ve survived this long.”

The two were at a stalemate. Percy couldn’t harm Akhlys because his sword was made of smoke, but Akhlys couldn’t harm Percy because he had the Curse of Achilles. 

“No matter,” The goddess grinned crookedly. “What irony it would be to see the son of Poseidon drown from poison!” She lashed out again, and Percy immediately jumped backward, now wary of the poisonous fumes seeping from her nails. 

“A slow death!” She growled. “A death from a thousand poisons!”

All around, even more plants grew. The clearing, which used to be clear of any fog, was now full of white mist that made Percy’s head swim. A stream of poison flowed out from around the goddess, collecting into deadly green and white pools. One wrong step, and Percy was sure his whole body would dissolve into goop. Or, with the Curse of Achilles, would he be tormented to agony for all eternity?

Either way, Percy didn’t want to find out. He kept dodging Akhlys’ poison-filled claws, but the streams of poisonous ichor were slowly and steadily filling the clearing. The black poplar trees began to smoke and crumble as the poison reached them. The ground steamed and the air burned as Percy was forced to breathe it in. It wasn’t long before he was stuck on an island surrounded by poison, with Akhlys slowly approaching. 

Percy knew the only way out of this was by using his powers. Riptide wasn’t an option, and Bob was far away by now - taking the other way around. If he didn’t figure something out, and fast, Akhlys would either claw him to death until she found his weak spot, or fill his lungs with poison until he drowned.

He tried to think of options - there were rivers in the underworld, but he couldn’t sense any nearby. He fell to one knee. The poisonous mist was messing with his head, making his vision blurry. He could barely tell what was real and what was fake. 

Percy wished there was some real water in Tartarus - a nice pool he could swim into to heal himself, like a lake or river he could more easily control. He’d even settle for a bottle of Evian.

“You will feed the eternal darkness,” Akhlys said. “You will die in the arms of Night!”

The poison fog grew thicker as the goddess flexed her hands. Percy could barely breathe. He gasped for air, but that only made more poison enter his lungs. The white-green poison flooded the clearing even faster, until the island he was stuck on in the venomous lake was no bigger than a shield. 

Lake. 

Percy paused, blinking in and out of consciousness. 

Floods. Water. 

It was probably just his brain fried off of poisonous fumes, but he let out a crazed laugh. Poison was liquid. If it moved like water, it had to be partially water. 

He remembered some science lecture about the human body being mostly made of water. He remembered controlling the water from inside Jason’s lungs back in Rome… if he could do that, then why not other liquids?

It was a crazy, stupid idea. 

Poseidon is the god of the sea, not of every liquid everywhere, Percy reminded himself. 

But, then again, Tartarus had its own rules. Fire was drinkable. The ground gave birth to monsters. The air was acidic, and demigods could be turned into smoke. 

So why not try?

He had nothing left to lose.

Percy glared at the poison flood encroaching from beside him. He concentrated so hard that something inside him cracked - like a crystal ball had shattered in his stomach. 

Warmth flowed through him, despite the chill of Tartarus. He barely felt the tug in his gut. The poison tide stopped. 

The white fumes blew away from him - back towards the goddess. The lake of poison rolled towards her in tiny waves and rivulets, slowly getting faster as Percy’s confidence grew. 

Akhlys shrieked, panicking as the poison no longer obeyed her command. “What is this?”

“Poison,” Percy smirked. “That’s your specialty, right?”

He stood, his anger growing hotter in his gut. Percy held out a hand, forcing the flood of venom closer towards the goddess. The fumes that rolled off the poison tide began to make her gag and choke. Her eyes watered even more. 

Oh, good, Percy though. More water. 

He imagined her nose and throat filling with her own tears, drowning the goddess from the inside out, just like she had tried to do to him. 

Akhlys gagged. “I-”

The tide of venom reached her feet, sizzling against her skin like droplets on a hot iron. She wailed and stumbled back, trying to scuttle away from Percy. 

“Stop!” She cried out, nowhere else to run as the poison surrounded her. 

He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to choke the goddess. He wanted to watch her drown in her own poison. He wanted to see just how much misery Misery could take.

"You tried to drown me," Percy muttered, his voice dark. "Now, you'll feel a taste of your own medicine."

He’d done this before. He’d killed Titans. He’d killed Giants. Gods were no different. Percy imagined her ichor boiling her from the inside out, just like the gorgon’s blood had done to him. 

He could do it. He could kill her. 

Akhlys screeched, screaming and wailing in agony as Percy boiled her blood, gagged her on her own tears, and burned her with her own poison. 

It felt like he was in a trance. It took no effort to fill her throat with poison. Percy didn’t even flinch when Akhlys cried out in pain, begging him to stop. Her voice cracked, poison tears dripping from her bloody cheeks. 

Golden ichor burst through Akhlys’ skin as it bubbled and boiled. Skin that touched poison started to dissolve into dust. She let out a gurgled cry, choking and spluttering on poison and ichor. Her already bloodshot eyes filled with gold, blood tears trailing down her face. She clawed at her throat, trying and failing to gasp for air.

"M-Monster! Murderer!" With her last breath, she cursed Percy before dissolving into ash. "As long as you live, Perseus Jackson - all you will know is misery!"