I left Camp Jupiter the next day, right after I'd made sure that Frank, Hazel, and Percy made it to the Alameda docks, the sorry excuse of a Roman navy waiting for their arrival. I noticed that throughout the conversation back at the Senate House up to now, Percy had been staring for uncomfortably long periods of time at my neck, frowning slightly, his fingers reaching up to fiddle with the beads around his leather cord.
I'll admit, not wearing my Camp Half-Blood necklace over the past few days (I usually wore it to Camp Jupiter anyways, and no one asked any questions) was weird, missing the familiar presence of all those beads resting on my collarbone. But I knew I had to take it off for the time being, so I did.
"Here is where I have to take my leave," I said, clenching and unclenching my hand around the strap of my bag, slung across my chest. "You'll be going to Alaska, a land beyond the gods. You know what that means, right?"
Hazel nodded grimly. "We're on our own, I know. You can't save us this time."
"Unfortunately. However, I can give you some information that may be helpful at some point."
"Information?" Frank asked, failing to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He probably hoped that I could do something about the Pax, but Percy had already hopped into the well-worn rowboat, removing the scummy, trashy water from the hull with a wave of his hand.
"Trust me, it's not as disappointing as you'll think it'll be." I sighed. "Firstly, keep Percy away from Polybotes – he's the anti-Neptune and bad news. Secondly, if you find yourself in the path of the Amazons, Hazel, you do all the talking, unless you want the boys to be in orange jumpsuits and wearing chain collars for the foreseeable future."
Percy snorted. "That's a fashion statement if I've ever heard of one."
"Frank, I know you've been told this many times, but I'll say it again: you can be anything. That is your family gift." Frank seemed a little miffed, but there was some semblance of understanding written on his face. "Hazel, you'll get better soon, I promise. Percy, your memories will be returned to you sooner than you expect."
With that being said, I pulled the three into a group hug, wishing them all good luck as they boarded the Pax, pulling out of the docks and heading towards the Golden Gate Bridge at about fifteen knots.
I didn't leave the docks until the boat was nothing more than a speck against the horizon.
I let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding, my hand reaching into my bag, my fingers curling around the vial that contained all of Percy's memories. Hera had promised me that the moment the gorgon blood touched Percy's lips, the memories would slip out on their own, allowing for him to finally remember his past. I sure hoped that had been the case the first time around, or else I was flying blind, something I tried to avoid at all costs.
It's time, I told myself, relishing in the cool breeze rippling across the bay, whipping my hair into a frenzy, the saltiness of the air stinging my eyes. I lifted my hands to the sky, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin, completely aware that it would be a while before I saw it again.
I dissolved into my own shadow, reappearing on the precipice of the giant pit that would lead me directly into the depths of Tartarus itself, where my friends and boyfriend were held captive.
My stomach churned violently at the vast darkness, my fire unable to illuminate a thing farther than a foot away. You see, I'm not afraid of the dark...my fear lies in what's in the darkness. I turned my bag back into a charm, fiddling with my hands as I walked closer to the edge.
"I have to do this," I said aloud, my voice drowned out by the howling wind and screaming spirits around me. "For Luke, for Will, for Nico."
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and fell forward, willingly throwing myself into the most nightmarish place on the entire planet.
0o0o
Sometimes I really wish I could turn off my ability to have a perfect understanding of time.
Take now, for instance, where I screamed my throat raw, the wind tearing tears from my eyes, my body weighing a million pounds as I hurtled towards the ground, painfully aware of the fact that I'd only been falling for two minutes.
It takes nine days to fall into Tartarus.
I curled my body into a ball to the best of my ability, aware of my hyperventilation and stinging eyes, in the middle of a full-fledged panic as I prepared myself for the longest nine days of my life.
0o0o
I didn't come out of fetal position until I noticed the gradual light starting to fill the air, a reddish kind of glow that exuded nothing but malice and the promise of suffering. The purple clouds in the...sky, I guess would be the best description, burned my skin, caustic gasses accumulating around the exit of this tunnel, leaving a searing sensation in my throat and lungs.
I repeatedly blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, noticing that I was approaching one of the five rivers, probably moving at terminal velocity. I tried to use the shadows to slow down my descent, but all I managed to do was draw attention to myself. A harpy flew right at me, sending me spiraling in midair.
Scowling, I grabbed onto the harpy's dumpy legs, hearing the chicken-woman screech as she intensely flapped her wings, trying to stay airborne. With some very difficult maneuvering, I managed to get the harpy flying over the nearest river, the River Phlegethon, the river of fire.
Fire I can do, I told myself, waiting until I got close enough to the river before letting go of the harpy, an undignified yelp escaping my lips as I fell a few more feet until I hit the fiery water, the current pushing me backward as I swam towards the surface.
Mass amounts of the gasoline flavored water forced itself down my nose and mouth while I got tossed around like a ragdoll, narrowly avoiding having my back broken in half by a hidden piece of jagged rock.
By the time I hauled myself onto the black, glass-covered shore, my body felt like it burned from the inside out, my arms trembled whenever I tried to put any pressure on them, and I bled from my hands again, the glassy shore tearing into my flesh. I laid on my back for as long as I dared, only long enough to catch my breath before getting to my feet, biting my tongue to keep my teeth from chattering as the warmth of the river's water faded away.
Strapped at my hip, I had a single concealed dagger, knowing that that would be the most Celestial bronze I could get away with without nearby monsters picking up on the sign that read, "NEXT MEAL HERE." I would've preferred to have Epithymia strapped to my back, but it would attract way too much attention.
In the bright red and orange glow from the Phlegethon, I reached into my bag and pulled out my copy of House of Hades, flipping to the back cover, where the map of Tartarus resided. Sadly, there was no little red star that said, "You are here!" so I had no clue which stretch of the Phlegethon I'd landed near.
I figured I'd walk along the banks of the Phlegethon until I found the forgotten shrine to Hermes, or maybe if I was lucky, I might be able to find Damasen's hut. But I knew I wasn't going to call Bob down here unless absolutely necessary, which I sincerely hoped wouldn't happen.
Knowing that my supplies would be stretched thin to cover my friends, I pushed aside my own thirst, shoveling my hands into the fiery water and taking large gulps of the brackish, tobacco and petroleum tasting liquid, a shudder wracking my body as I attempted to keep it down.
"Oh, God," I muttered, wiping the wetness from my lips, beginning my long march into the darkest part of the pit. "Disgusting."
I did my best to keep my eyes forward, trying to keep my gaze completely straight, not wanting to spend too much time fully taking in my surroundings. I was already in sensory overload, different layers of existence ebbing and flowing over each other, all kinds of mythological creatures from all pantheons taking form. I'm convinced that I saw beings from the Duat and Muspelheim reach out at one point, backing off once I brandished my dagger.
I couldn't get farther than twenty feet before something would reach out of the shadows, trying to drag me down into a deeper layer, wanting to tear me apart. After the first few times of holding my ground, I literally said, "Screw this," and drew Epithymia, knowing that unless I could figure out how to dampen my goddess aura, there was no point in trying to stay hidden anymore.
For the next few hours, I fought countless amounts of monsters, scratches and cuts lining my entire body. Whenever I could, I drank from the River Phlegethon to at least stop the stinging and bleeding. Seriously, it was annoying to have to constantly wipe a hand across my forehead to make sure blood wouldn't stream down over my eyes.
In a very macabre way, I was kind of glad that I was under constant siege, because it kept me from staring too intently at my surroundings. Wherever I went, I could hear the tortured screams of souls who'd done such evil things that they were cast into Tartarus. I heard the endless squabbles between monsters as they fought over morsels, loud, booming, hair-raising voices reverberating in the vast openness. There were moments when I could've sworn I saw monsters and beasts from other pantheons trying to claw through the mist, each more terrifying than the last.
But worst of all was the sound of a monster being reborn. All over the surface of Tartarus, these misshapen, amber-colored blobs rose out of the ground, appearing like an ugly, infected pimple. When the cocoon burst, the monster would shout in elation, usually saying something along the lines of, "Free, free at last!" The remaining amber would then glow for a moment before detonating like a million pounds of C4, the ground shaking more violently than the worst earthquakes recorded in all of history.
The beings of air were just as dangerous as the ones on the ground, what with beings that appeared like thousands of arai and winged snakes and griffons and skeletal birds swirling around, their beady eyes waiting to swoop down on the first thing that moved.
For the first time in a long time, true terror gripped my heart, my pulse roaring in my ears with every step I took. I'd tried using some of my other powers to help me, like slowing down time to get ahead of the monsters, but all that resulted in was a terrible pressure in my gut that radiated pain from my head to my toes. The feeling was so much worse than trying to use my powers in Celestial bronze chains, as if all my energy would just build up forever until I'd finally explode.
No, powers weren't an option down here. I'd have to do something else.
I followed the Phlegethon until the bright glow of the fire started to die down, the orange water fading into a sad gray color, as if I had reached the banks of the Cocytus. Off in the distance, I heard the roar of a waterfall, the Phlegethon emptying out somewhere down below.
The horde of monsters that had followed me since the beginning seemed less enthusiastic now that we were on the edge of falling into a deeper level of Tartarus, closer to Chaos and to the Brass Fortress. Though I had no idea what kind of stuff went on in the Brass Fortress, I never wanted to find out.
Taking advantage of the monsters' hesitation, I cut down as many as I could, stumbling when a Cyclops' club caught my knee, sending me to the ground, the taste of blood filling my mouth from biting my cheek so hard to keep from crying out.
Despite being on the ground, and my left knee bending the wrong way, I held my ground until the monsters got bored. I heard one of them grumble, "She just won't die," as it unhappily stalked off to find easier prey.
The Cyclops that had broken my knee, however, did not leave, a sadistic grin on his gnarly face as he tossed his club back and forth between his hands, laughing giddily. His single brown eye burned with anticipation, blinking so much that it seemed like he was on the verge of tears.
"I've captured a goddess!" he cried excitedly. "You're a little smaller than I expected, but no matter. I'm sure you'll taste scrumptious anyhow."
"You've captured a goddess?" I asked, feigning ignorance. I glanced to my left and right for good measure. "Where?"
The Cyclops shifted his weight uneasily. "What do you mean? You're the goddess!"
"Am I?"
"What else would you be?"
A grand plan began forming in my mind. I would've smirked, but I winced as my tongue accidentally probed the ragged piece of torn flesh on the inside of my cheek. Stupid Cyclops.
"A creation of the Lady of Night herself," I said, voice unwavering. "A servant to scour these lands for worthy recruits to serve for our highest Lord. All you've done by injuring me is impede my work, and now we'll both be punished."
"P-Punished?" the Cyclops whimpered. "By Lady N-Night?"
"I'm afraid so. And I'll tell you, that whip of hers is a downright nasty thing. I've seen men's flesh torn apart, have seen the light drain out of the eyes of my mistress's victims, all people who have crossed her." I tapped a finger against my chin. "But I've never heard of her having quality time with a Cyclops. Do you want to be the first? It would be a great honor."
The Cyclops shook his head so quickly that I thought he'd break his own neck. He got down to his knees and bowed, his entire body quaking. "I'm sorry, miss, I thought you was a goddess, I did. Please don't send Lady Night after me."
"Leave now, and I won't. But if I ever see your face again..."
"You won't, I promise! You'll never see Joe Bob again, I swear it!"
I mustered the creepiest smile I could pull off. "Why are you still here? My mistress is already on her way."
With a loud, horrified cry, Joe Bob the Cyclops scooped up his club and ran far, far away.
I cringed as I glanced down at my kneecap, which had already swollen to the size of a softball and was a mixture of red and purple, a painful throb radiating down my entire leg with every beat of my heart. I'd dealt with these kinds of injuries before in the infirmary, but I'd never had something so severe myself. And seeing that my goddess healing didn't want to play nice in this hellhole, I'd have to take care of this the old-fashioned way.
Limping towards the end of the Phlegethon was a nightmare, arcs of some of the most terrible pain I've ever felt before shooting through my entire body, like I was connected to a live electrical fence. Gritting my teeth, I ignored the feeling of the skin on my hands tearing open once again as I got to my knees. I scooped up and drank as many mouthfuls of the healing water as needed until I could finally put weight on my leg again.
Once I was sure I could walk, I reached into my bag, pulling out a wrap of bandages to stabilize my knee. Afterward, I pulled out one of my multitude of braces (I'm pretty sure I had a brace for everything at this point), strapping it on tightly around the back of my knee, but there was still enough leeway so that I would be able to walk and run properly when it came to that.
I gave one last glance at my map before returning my bag to my bracelet, forging out towards what I hoped was the direction towards Hermes's lost shrine.
For the next three hours, I was alone. It was nice finally getting some reprieve, but that meant that I spent more time focusing on the environment I was in, especially the ground beneath my feet, which was a dark purple and riddled with webbing, like the veins on the back of an old person's hands. The sulfur in the air burned my lungs and stung my eyes; whispers of malicious spirits crooned in my ear, trying to convince me to give up hope.
A couple of times, the mist would swirl and show images of my friends – not just of Luke, Nico, and Will being tortured, but of Hazel, Percy, and Frank drowning in the earth, of Piper, Leo, and Jason free-falling from the sky, all of them passed out and plummeting towards the ground. I saw Annabeth, Grover, and Clarisse strung up in spider webs, hanging above a crumbling floor, dangling from the end of the Athena Parthenos's outstretched arm.
There was Rachel in a mental hospital, rocking back and forth in the corner of her padded room, her once brilliant emerald green eyes completely fractured, just like May Castellan's. She mumbled incoherently to herself, violently scratching at her left forearm, where a legion tattoo would be if she was a legionnaire.
"They're going to kill us!" she shouted, pounding at the walls until her hands were bruised and battered. "Let me out! Their fates, not their fates!"
But the images didn't stop there.
Sometimes, I'd see visions of my mortal friends in the worst kind of situations, the kind that their training couldn't help them in. I saw Leah and Patrick standing back to back, their weapons drawn as they tried to fight off a horde of enemy demigods, the same ones who'd been granted amnesty after the Titan War but refused to return to either one of the camps.
Tossed at their feet were Pete, Joe, and Andy, dead or nearly dead. The only one who was still moving was Andy, but judging from the large spear shaft sticking out from his stomach, I highly doubted he'd be able to survive that kind of injury judging from the amount of blood already pooling around him.
"Thank you for being my friend!" Leah told Patrick, firing off her last arrow. As she went to reach for Pete's sword, she gasped, a knife protruding from her abdomen. It wasn't long before another knife embedded itself into her heart, causing her to fall to the ground, her eyes glazed over as she went limp.
Patrick glared at the others and yelled, "You'll never take me alive!" before turning his spear at himself, driving it through his jugular and carotid, bleeding out within a minute.
I wanted to scream, to cry, and to throw things at the sight of all these images. Somewhere in my brain, I knew that most of the images were just the result of daemons feeding on my worst fears, trying to break my spirit.
Honestly, I contemplated pulling a Bird Box and blindfolding myself, but that was even more suicidal than willingly jumping into Tartarus, so I grit my teeth and moved past the mist images, constantly chanting, "They're not real," in my mind.
Despite my aching feet and bad knee, I forced myself to walk further down the landscape of the pit, a strong vortex seeming to pull at me, leading me towards the center of the pit, where the Doors of Death were located. I couldn't shut those Doors, not yet, so I put any thoughts of that out of my mind, spending all my efforts to get to the shrine.
I stopped paying attention to my internal clock, the numbers that seemed to burn behind my eyelids on the verge of driving me crazy. I hadn't even been here for a full day yet, and I already struggled to keep my grasp on reality. How the hell had Nico been able to do this, or Percy or Annabeth for that matter? How were the others holding up now?
The farther I walked away from the River Phlegethon, the colder the air got, dropping a few degrees with every hundred yards or so until it felt like walking in the middle of a blizzard. But the air remained sticky with humidity, so despite the almost freezing temperatures, sweat clung to my clothes, streaming in thin lines down the side of my face.
The plateau I was on finally came to a stop. To my right was a rock wall; to my left, a cliff that dropped off into God knows where.
The choice wasn't too difficult. I made my way to the rock wall, wiping off the excess perspiration from my palms on my pants before grabbing the first handhold, beginning to climb this particular precipice.
Unlike the rock wall at camp, this one did not spew lava or rattle and shake, but like everything else in Tartarus, any action that opposed heading towards the Doors of Death was a million times more difficult to perform. My arms trembled with every upward grab. My legs turned to putty whenever I tried to push off. My bum knee served as a painful reminder of why I hated being injured.
I finally made it to a little ledge, hauling myself over the tiny edge, and pulled my knees up to my chest, placing my forehead against my knees. My breathing came out in rattled spurts, as if I was in end-stage tuberculosis. Every breath burned my throat, and for the life of me, I couldn't stop shaking, something that annoyed me to no end.
This place affects you more than most, I heard Salina whisper in my mind, the sound of her voice instantly lifting my spirits. Your kindness, your goodness, your light – all of that is destroyed in the presence of such evil. Tartarus is trying to kill your spirit, poison your soul. Without that, you are as weak and helpless as any of the monsters reforming down here.
"What can I do?" I whimpered, instinctively tightening my grip on Epithymia's hilt when I heard something fly by, way too close for comfort. "Where do I need to go?"
Don't lose hope. That's all you can do.
"Mom? Mom, wait, please don't go! I can't do this alone!"
A frustrated growl escaped my lips as I violently tugged at my hair. Fine, if I couldn't get any straight answers, I'll wander around this nightmare until I find what I'm looking for, even if that means sacrificing myself.
I got back onto my feet and resumed my climb, newfound motivation burning through me as I reached for the top of this cliff.
0o0o
I didn't make it very far after climbing the cliff before being ambushed, tons of minor immortals shrouded in something called "eternal darkness" – a.k.a. Nyx's blessing – an assortment of weapons in their hands as they whooped and wailed, "We've got her! We've got her!"
I didn't understand their war cry. I mean, they hadn't so much as taken a step in my direction, yet they already celebrated my supposed capture.
I unsheathed Epithymia and grabbed one of my hunting knives, figuring that doubling up on weapons would probably be more effective than grabbing a shield. Maybe I could take out these bastards faster, at least, that was my hope.
I made the first strike, going against a woman in a strapless, tight-fitting, black dress, her lips a shockingly bright red, matching her fiery red hair. Her skin was as pale as a corpse, but her ink blue eyes shone with life.
She threw her head back in a laugh. "This is the so called protégé of Olympus? Ha! I've heard that they've already replaced you with those seven pesky demigods!"
The other immortals around her groaned.
"Seriously, Pheme, can't you keep your mouth shut for more than five minutes!"
"I know you're the goddess of rumors and all, but come on!"
"What?" Pheme snapped, stabbing the two who spoke out against her. "Wouldn't you like to see the look of betrayal on her face at the thought of being replaced?"
"Uh, she doesn't look too betrayed to me," a third immortal said, a male dressed in nothing more than a cloth skirt, emaciated beyond anything I'd ever seen before. His skin seemed to be glued to his bones, every inch of him sunken in and withering away.
"Shut it, Limos!"
"I want to be the one to kill the girl!" a fourth cried. "I'm mother's favorite, after all!"
"You are not!"
"I am, too!"
Sensing the dysfunctionality of this family, I strapped my knife to a sheath on my thigh and sheathed Epithymia before turning on my heel and running in the opposite direction, keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible.
Only one of the immortals sensed my disappearance and was hot on my trail, his deranged laughter echoing in my ears as they got closer. "You can run, but you can't hide," the immortal crooned in a sickly sweet voice. "There is nowhere where we can't find you, little one."
Eventually, I slammed face first into my hunter, instinctively rolling over my shoulder and coming up with my weapons in hand, my jaw clenched as I kept myself from screaming out in pain after my bad knee took much of the impact from my roll.
In front of me was a man about five-eleven, his arms toned in such a way that it made me wonder what kind of strength and conditioning routine they had down here. His skin shone as if ceremonial oil had recently been poured on him.
He dressed in the stereotypical Ancient Greek attire: a white tunic with a leather belt around his waist and brown sandals laced up to his ankles, but there was red splattered all over him, including his legs, arms, neck, and face. His eyes were pure marble white with slit pupils, like a snake. His hair, which was just as white, was pink in certain places, reflecting the red splotches that covered him from head to toe. In his hand, he held a rusty dagger the length of his forearm, the wrapping around the hilt coming undone and dangling by his wrist.
His gaze flickered to the large red splotch over his heart, the same one I'd been staring at when I wasn't analyzing his every move, waiting to respond to his attack.
"Don't worry about this," he said, carelessly waving the dagger over his chest, motioning towards his heart. "That stopped bleeding a while ago."
I swallowed a lump in the back of my throat. Figured that all the red was blood. It was too much to hope that any of Nyx's children were artists or ketchup enthusiasts.
"Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Poine, god of retribution, vengeance, recompense, punishment, and punishment for murder and manslaughter." He tossed his dagger back and forth, totally unfazed whenever he'd catch the dagger by the blade instead of the hilt, continuing to toss it around. Despite the cuts appearing on his palms, no blood came forth. Then he pointed the blade of the dagger at me and smiled. "And just who might you be?"
"Like I'd ever tell you," I snapped. "So either let me go or fight. I hate small talk."
"Tsk, tsk. You haven't learned the rules yet have you?" Poine paced. "See, things work differently here than up on Olympus. Up there, you may be some hotshot, but down here, you are our toy." He shot me a smile so vile that chills ran down my spine. "And we don't like to play nice."
He sprang forward with such speed and agility that I barely managed to deflect his blow, jumping aside as I parried another swing and took one of my own. I feigned a slash to the right, and when Poine took the bait, I pivoted on my bad knee (a huge mistake on my part), stabbing him in the hip with my hunting knife.
Instead of howling in pain like most immortals or monsters did when wounded, Poine simply laughed his deranged laugh, a manic smile plastered on his face. "You're a warrior," he said, amusement evident in his voice. "Good, I like them feisty."
"You're repulsive," I said, taking a step out of his range before running forward, getting too close for him to do anything else and bringing the full weight of my sword down on his hand, watching the dagger clatter out of his hands.
That was as far as I got before a burning cold sensation pierced my shoulder, the tip of a second dagger poking out from the front of my shoulder. A mangled gasp escaped my lips as the dagger was yanked out and driven into my other shoulder.
"Remember, doll, I make the rules. And my, my, my, the amount of blood on your hands sure makes it easy to take you out." Poine grabbed me roughly by my hair, pulling my head up so that his lips brushed against my ear. "My mother will be most pleased."
And despite my attempt to resist, Poine brought the hilt of his dagger against my temple, instantly knocking me out cold.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hi everybody!
Thanks for sticking with me despite the inconsistent updates. School takes up most of my time (cough, orgo 2, cough), but I try to write when I can!
Love you all, and be kind to one another! The world is such a crazy place right now and we can all do with a little kindness. ❤️