(Y/N)'s POV
Tartarus. From a young age, people had told him it was the worst place there was or ever will be, that even the underworld couldn't compare. But he hadn't taken it seriously, I mean, when did he ever?
He had never really grasped the magnitude of it, just the concept was a tricky thing to wrap his head around, was it a prison? A person? A punishment? A warning? He didn't really ever get the answer, nobody ever wants to speak about a place like Tartarus.
All he knew was, Tartarus was the worst place to be. That was his understanding of it, he had threatened people with it for years, "I'll drag you down to Tartarus!" "I'll send you to Tartarus." It was just a word, a threat that he would use, he never really considered it.
Even when he had glanced into its depths, the abyss itself didn't really concern him, merely the things that resided in it, he never would have imagined the place itself, let alone ever actually going to it.
It was a secret from his friends. But in all his time spent in the pit as he fought against Olympus, protected by Nyx, he had barely ever ventured outside, the thought scared him too much. The vastness of it was dizzying.
He had spent as little time as possible in her mansion. The sounds of Tartarus alone could have drove him mad, he had to be protected from that alone. He couldn't even grasp what it must have been like for the things that resided here.
He had been sending monsters to Tartarus in droves for years without a second thought, he never actually thought he'd find himself there one day, he never thought his words and threats would eventually catch up with him.
Until that moment, when he let go and found himself falling into the abyss. The only reason he did so was because of the trust he had for Annabeth, and the thought of her being alone in the place he had heard nightmares about for years was too much to bear.
The feeling of trust lasted approximately the first two hundred thousand miles. It would have lasted so much longer if he wasn't so worried. (Y/N) had fallen from plenty of high places, the hoover dam, the empire state. Those were step stools compared to the fall to Tartarus.
As they fell, the first thing (Y/N) noticed was the overwhelming darkness that enveloped them. At the start of their descent, there was no light to be seen, no way to discern up from down as they tumbled through the endless void.
The only thing that (Y/N) could feel was Annabeth beside him. The air around him was hot and thick, suffocating him and filling his lungs with a sulphuric burn. Even breathing in Tartarus was a form of torment.
As the two of them continued to fall, the landscape around them began to materialize. They had seemingly passed through the land of the living, now that all that was left for them was the depths of the pit.
(Y/N) finally had a clear image of the place he kept so far from his mind all these years. The landscape of Tartarus stretched out before them, a daunting and terrifying expanse that promised nothing but endless torment and misery.
Looking over at the immense landscape, he saw all manner of terrains, each more painful looking than the last. The ground below was a jagged mass of swirling mist and shadow, broken only by deep chasms and jagged cliffs that threatened to tear them apart.
Over to their far left. Lava bubbled and hissed beneath them, like a taunting welcome, sending waves of heat that threatened to blister their skin even from here. He looked up, trying to see if the tunnel above them had opened.
The sky above was a swirling mass of darkness, with no stars or moon to provide any comfort or guidance. The howling winds tore through the air, carrying with them the echoes of the tormented souls trapped within Tartarus. Now, Annabeth and (Y/N) were among them.
Annabeth's POV
Nine days. As she fell, Annabeth thought about Hesiod, the old Greek poet who'd speculated it would take nine days to fall from earth to Tartarus. She hoped Hesiod was wrong. She'd lost track of how long she and (Y/N) had been falling – hours? A day? It felt like an eternity.
They'd been holding hands ever since they'd dropped into the chasm. Now he pulled her close, hugging her tight as they tumbled through absolute darkness. Wind whistled in Annabeth's ears.
The air grew hotter and damper, as if they were plummeting into the throat of a massive dragon. Her recently broken ankle throbbed, though she couldn't tell if it was still wrapped in spiderwebs.
That cursed monster Arachne. Despite having been trapped in her own webbing, smashed by a car and plunged into Tartarus, the spider lady had got her revenge. Somehow her silk had entangled Annabeth's leg and dragged her over the side of the pit, with (Y/N) in tow.
Annabeth couldn't imagine that Arachne was still alive, somewhere below them in the darkness. She didn't want to meet that monster again when they reached the bottom. On the bright side, assuming there was a bottom, they would probably be flattened on impact, so giant spiders were the least of their worries.
She wrapped her arms around (Y/N) and tried not to sob. She'd never expected her life to be easy. Most demigods died young at the hands of terrible monsters. That was the way it had been since ancient times.
The Greeks invented tragedy. They knew the greatest heroes didn't get happy endings. Still, this wasn't fair. She'd gone through so much to retrieve that statue of Athena. Just when she'd succeeded, when things had been looking up and she'd been reunited with (Y/N), they had plunged to their deaths.
Even the gods couldn't devise a fate so twisted. But Gaia wasn't like other gods. The Earth Mother was older, more vicious, more bloodthirsty. Annabeth could imagine her laughing as they fell into the depths.
Annabeth pressed her lips to (Y/N)'s ear. "I love you." She wasn't sure he could hear her – but if they were going to die, she wanted those to be her last words. She tried desperately to think of a plan to save them.
She was a daughter of Athena. She'd proven herself in the tunnels under Rome, beaten a whole series of challenges with only her wits. But she couldn't think of any way to reverse or even slow their fall.
Thanks to (Y/N)'s now uneven wings, even if they wanted to, neither of them had the power to fly – not like Jason, who could control the wind, or Frank, who could turn into a winged animal. If they reached the bottom at terminal velocity ... well, she knew enough science to know it would be terminal.
She was seriously wondering whether they could fashion a parachute out of their shirts – that's how desperate she was – when something about their surroundings changed. The darkness took on a grey-red tinge.
She realized she could see (Y/N)'s wound as she hugged him, the blood trailing down his back. The whistling in her ears turned into more of a roar. The air became intolerably hot, permeated with a smell like rotten eggs.
Suddenly, the chute they'd been falling through opened into a vast cavern. Maybe half a mile below them, Annabeth could see the bottom. For a moment she was too stunned to think properly.
The entire island of Manhattan could have fitted inside this cavern – and she couldn't even see its full extent. Red clouds hung in the air like vaporized blood. The landscape – at least what she could see of it – was rocky black plains, punctuated by jagged mountains and fiery chasms.
To Annabeth's left, the ground dropped away in a series of cliffs, like colossal steps leading deeper into the abyss. The stench of sulphur made it hard to concentrate, but she focused on the ground directly below them and saw a ribbon of glittering black liquid – a river.
"There!" she yelled in his ear. "Water!" She gestured frantically. His face was hard to read in the dim red light, he looked shell shocked and terrified, but mostly confused as if he wanted to say, "Wonderful. And? We're still dead."
She knew why. Of course, Annabeth had heard horrible stories about the rivers of the Underworld, she had felt a few in her time. They could take away your memories or burn your body and soul to ashes. But she decided not to think about that. "We have to try!" She shouted.
(Y/N) wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, his hand pressed into the back of her head, pushing her deeper into the crook of his shoulder, she knew it was just to brace her, but her mind did decide that if she were to die right now, there were worse ways to go.
They were jolted to one side as (Y/N)'s one wing extended, slowing them a little, and the sentiment that she shared was returned to her in kind when (Y/N) muttered "I love you" As he glided as best they could towards the water.
In unison they closed their eyes, even in the darkness, (Y/N) turned in the air so that he would impact the water first. This was their only chance. The river hurtled towards them. At the last second, (Y/N) yelled defiantly. They hit the water, hard.
Hazel's POV
During the third attack, Hazel almost ate a boulder. She was peering into the fog, wondering how it could be so difficult to fly across one stupid mountain range, when the ship's alarm bells sounded.
"Hard to port!" Nico yelled from the foremast of the flying ship. Back at the helm, Leo yanked the wheel. The Argo II veered left, its aerial oars slashing through the clouds like rows of knives. Hazel made the mistake of looking over the rail.
A dark spherical shape hurtled toward her. She thought: Why is the moon coming at us? Then she yelped and hit the deck. The huge rock passed so close overhead it blew her hair out of her face.
CRACK! The foremast collapsed—sail, spars, and Nico all crashing to the deck. The boulder, roughly the size of a pickup truck, tumbled off into the fog like it had important business elsewhere.
"Nico!" Hazel scrambled over to him as Leo brought the ship level. "I'm fine," Nico muttered, kicking folds of canvas off his legs. She helped him up, and they stumbled to the bow. Hazel peeked over more carefully this time.
The clouds parted just long enough to reveal the top of the mountain below them: a spearhead of black rock jutting from mossy green slopes. Standing at the summit was a mountain god—one of the numina montanum, Jason had called them. Or ourae, in Greek.
Whatever you called them, they were nasty. Like the others they had faced, this one wore a simple white tunic over skin as rough and dark as basalt. He was about twenty feet tall and extremely muscular, with a flowing white beard, scraggly hair, and a wild look in his eyes, like a crazy hermit.
He bellowed something Hazel didn't understand, but it obviously wasn't welcoming. With his bare hands, he pried another chunk of rock from his mountain and began shaping it into a ball.
The scene disappeared in the fog, but when the mountain god bellowed again, other numina answered in the distance, their voices echoing through the valleys. "Stupid rock gods!" Leo yelled from the helm.
"That's the third time I've had to replace that mast! You think they grow on trees?" Nico frowned. "Masts are from trees." "That's not the point!" Leo snatched up one of his controls, rigged from a Nintendo Wii stick, and spun it in a circle.
A few feet away, a trapdoor opened in the deck. A Celestial bronze cannon rose. Hazel just had time to cover her ears before it discharged into the sky, spraying a dozen metal spheres that trailed green fire.
The spheres grew spikes in midair, like helicopter blades, and hurtled away into the fog. A moment later, a series of explosions crackled across the mountains, followed by the outraged roars of mountain gods.
"Ha!" Leo yelled. Unfortunately, Hazel guessed, judging from their last two encounters, Leo's newest weapon had only annoyed the numina. Another boulder whistled through the air off to their starboard side.
Nico yelled, "Get us out of here!" Leo muttered some unflattering comments about numina, but he turned the wheel. The engines hummed. Magical rigging lashed itself tight, and the ship tacked to port.
The Argo II picked up speed, retreating northwest, as they'd been doing for the past two days. Hazel didn't relax until they were out of the mountains. The fog cleared. Below them, morning sunlight illuminated the Italian countryside—rolling green hills and golden fields not too different from those in Northern California.
Hazel could almost imagine she was sailing home to Camp Jupiter. The thought weighed on her chest. Camp Jupiter had only been her home for nine months, since Nico had brought her back from the Underworld.
But she missed it more than her birthplace of New Orleans, and definitely more than Alaska, where she'd died back in 1942. She missed her bunk in the Fifth Cohort barracks. She missed dinners in the mess hall, with wind spirits whisking platters through the air and legionnaires joking about the war games.
She wanted to wander the streets of New Rome, holding hands with Frank Zhang. She wanted to experience just being a regular girl for once, with an actual sweet, caring boyfriend. Most of all, she wanted to feel safe.
She was tired of being scared and worried all the time. She stood on the quarterdeck as Nico picked mast splinters out of his arms and Leo punched buttons on the ship's console. "Well, that was sucktastic," Leo said. "Should I wake the others?"
Hazel was tempted to say yes, but the other crew members had taken the night shift and had earned their rest. They were exhausted from defending the ship. Every few hours, it seemed, some Roman monster had decided the Argo II looked like a tasty treat.
A few weeks ago, Hazel wouldn't have believed that anyone could sleep through a numina attack, but now she imagined her friends were still snoring away belowdecks. Whenever she got a chance to crash, she slept like a coma patient.
"They need rest," she said. "We'll have to figure out another way on our own." "Huh." Leo scowled at his monitor. In his tattered work shirt and grease-splattered jeans, he looked like he'd just lost a wrestling match with a locomotive.
Ever since their friends had fallen into Tartarus, Leo had been working almost nonstop. He'd been acting angrier and even more driven than usual. Hazel worried about him. But part of her was relieved by the change.
Whenever Leo smiled and joked, he looked too much like Sammy, his great-grandfather...Hazel's first boyfriend, back in 1942. Ugh, why did her life have to be so complicated?
"Another way," Leo muttered. "Do you see one?" On his monitor glowed a map of Italy. The Apennine Mountains ran down the middle of the bootshaped country. A green dot for the Argo II blinked on the western side of the range, a few hundred miles north of Rome.
Their path should have been simple. They needed to get to a place called Epirus in Greece and find an old temple called the House of Hades (or Pluto, as the Romans called him; or as Hazel liked to think of him: the World's Worst Absent Father).
To reach Epirus, all they had to do was go straight east—over the Apennines and across the Adriatic Sea. But it hadn't worked out that way. Each time they tried to cross the spine of Italy; the mountain gods attacked.
For the past two days they'd skirted north, hoping to find a safe pass, with no luck. The numina montanum were sons of Gaea, Hazel's least favourite goddess. That made them very determined enemies.
The Argo II couldn't fly high enough to avoid their attacks; and even with all its defences, the ship couldn't make it across the range without being smashed to pieces. "It's our fault," Hazel said. "Nico's and mine. The numina can sense us."
She glanced at her half-brother. Since they'd rescued him from the giants, he'd started to regain his strength, but he was still painfully thin. His black shirt and jeans hung off his skeletal frame. Long dark hair framed his sunken eyes.
His olive complexion had turned a sickly greenish white, like the colour of tree sap. In human years, he was barely fourteen, just a year older than Hazel, but that didn't tell the whole story. Like Hazel, Nico di Angelo was a demigod from another era.
He radiated a kind of old energy —a melancholy that came from knowing he didn't belong in the modern world. Hazel hadn't known him very long, but she understood, even shared, his sadness.
The children of Hades (Pluto—whichever) rarely had happy lives. And judging from what Nico had told her the night before, their biggest challenge was yet to come when they reached the House of Hades—a challenge he'd implored her to keep secret from the others.
Nico gripped the hilt of his Stygian iron sword. "Earth spirits don't like children of the Underworld. That's true. We get under their skin—literally. But I think the numina could sense this ship anyway. We're carrying the Athena Parthenos. That thing is like a magical beacon."
Hazel shivered, thinking of the massive statue that took up most of the hold. They'd sacrificed so much saving it from the cavern under Rome; but they had no idea what to do with it. So far, the only thing it seemed to be good for was alerting more monsters to their presence.
Leo traced his finger down the map of Italy. "So, crossing the mountains is out. Thing is, they go a long way in either direction." "We could go by sea," Hazel suggested. "Sail around the southern tip of Italy."
"That's a long way," Nico said. "Percy could maybe get us there faster than we'd normally be able to, but that would just draw more attention. Gaea might send that golden guy you told me about after us, and without (Y/N) here..." His voice cracked.
Hazel felt the name hang in the air like an impending storm. Nico used to talk about him constantly. Even when they were in New Rome, of course back then Hazel hadn't realized that the (Y/N) that he spoke of with such admiration was the same (Y/N) she knew.
The amount of respect Nico held for him was admirable, but she could see the pain in his eyes as he thought of (Y/N). A cold far away expression seemed to become a mask over his face, he stared at the floor as if his eyes could bore into Tartarus and see (Y/N) now.
"The golden guy almost beat you guys last time, even if we were in the air, look...I can't fight as I am now, even if I could I'm not (Y/N)...even if I...anyway, so we're essentially two people down so-" He trailed off. She could tell he was still blaming himself.
She could never thank (Y/N) enough for all he did for her brother, more than any of the others. Even before all this Gaea business, but still, part of her was almost as heartbroken as Nico, though only because she realized what that look in her brother's eyes really meant.
In the hours and days following their friends falling into Tartarus, Nico may as well have gone into another death trance. Distant and absentminded on good days, virtually non-respondent on the worse ones. Still, she would rather see him like this than see him act how Percy was.
Hazel understood how he felt though. She still could barely wrap her head around it. Her relationship with (Y/N) was complicated, on one side she had heard about him so much and seen him do so many amazing things.
On the other hand, she had seen some of the worst side of him. She had seen the way he once looked at her and a small part of her still hurt because of it. She would trust him with her life, she had trusted him with her brothers.
He had brought Nico back to her, through everything, he had kept his promise. She didn't know if the others ever really grasped what she and (Y/N) had nearly risked saving Nico, and (Y/N) was even willing to soul trade for him.
Anyone capable of doing all that was far beyond the stage of just earning her respect. She considered him family. He'd saved her life so many times on their quest to Alaska; but when he had needed Hazel's help in Rome, she'd failed him.
She'd watched, powerless, as he and Annabeth had plunged into that pit. Hazel took a deep breath. He and Annabeth were still alive. She knew that in her heart. She could still help them if she could get to the House of Hades, if she could survive the challenge Nico had warned her about....
"What about continuing north?" she asked. "There has to be a break in the mountains, or something." Leo fiddled with the bronze Archimedes sphere that he'd installed on the console—his newest and most dangerous toy.
Every time Hazel looked at the thing, her mouth went dry. She worried that Leo would turn the wrong combination on the sphere and accidentally eject them all from the deck, or blow up the ship, or turn the Argo II into a giant toaster.
Fortunately, they got lucky. The sphere grew a camera lens and projected a 3-D image of the Apennine Mountains above the console. "I dunno." Leo examined the hologram. "I don't see any good passes to the north. But I like that idea better than backtracking south. I'm done with Rome."
No one argued with that. Rome had not been a good experience. "Whatever we do," Nico said, "we have to hurry. Every day that Annabeth and (Y/N) are in Tartarus..." He didn't need to finish.
They had to hope (Y/N) and Annabeth could survive long enough to find the Tartarus side of the Doors of Death. Then, assuming the Argo II could reach the House of Hades, they might be able to open the Doors on the mortal side, save their friends, and seal the entrance, stopping Gaea's forces from being reincarnated in the mortal world over and over.
Yes...nothing could go wrong with that plan. Nico scowled at the Italian countryside below them. "Maybe we should wake the others. This decision affects us all." "No," Hazel said. "We can find a solution."
She wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about it, but since leaving Rome, the crew had started to lose its cohesion. They'd been learning to work as a team. Then bam...two of their most important members fell into Tartarus.
(Y/N) had been their motivator. Even sometimes in a bad way. He'd given them confidence as they sailed across the Atlantic and into the Mediterranean. He seemed to almost exude confidence sometimes. The type of guy to look at a sea monster and think "Sure. I'll fight it. Let's go!"
Even when he went against the crew's wishes, he felt so sure of himself, it was helpful somehow. Him just being aboard made everything feel cohesive, the attitude in which he approached things sort of rubbed off, like Leo, he made the darker times less dim.
As for Annabeth—she'd been the de facto leader of the quest. She'd recovered the Athena Parthenos single-handedly. She was the smartest of the seven, the one with the answers. Now she was gone.
Which begged the question, who was the new de facto leader? It was best not to ask that question; they had learned that the hard way. Now everyone had their own answers, none of them felt as right as her answers did though.
If Hazel woke up the rest of the crew every time they had a problem, they'd just start arguing again, feeling more and more hopeless. She had to make (Y/N) and Annabeth proud of her. She had to take the initiative.
She couldn't believe her only role in this quest would be what Nico had warned her of—removing the obstacle waiting for them in the House of Hades. She pushed the thought aside. "We need some creative thinking," she said.
"Another way to cross those mountains, or a way to hide ourselves from the numina." Nico sighed. "If I was on my own, I could shadow-travel. But that won't work for an entire ship. And honestly, I'm not sure I have the strength to even transport myself anymore."
"I could maybe rig some kind of camouflage," Leo said, "like a smoke screen to hide us in the clouds." He didn't sound very enthusiastic. Hazel stared down at the rolling farmland, thinking about what lay beneath it—the realm of her father, lord of the Underworld.
She'd only met Pluto once, and she hadn't even realized who he was. She certainly had never expected help from him—not when she was alive the first time, not during her time as a spirit in the Underworld, not since Nico had brought her back to the world of the living.
Her dad's servant Thanatos, god of death, had suggested that Pluto might be doing Hazel a favour by ignoring her. After all, she wasn't supposed to be alive. If Pluto took notice of her, he might have to return her to the land of the dead.
As that thought crossed her mind, she almost imagined (Y/N)'s voice in the back of her head, "Servant? Who do you think we're talking about here? My dad's no servant!" It almost caused her to smile.
It also brought back one of the first memories she had of (Y/N), well, at least when she figured out that he was actually worth talking to. After she had shared one of her darker secrets, her issue with visions of the past.
He had proceeded to rattle off ideas that sounded nonsensical as if they were easy. "-I could call in a few favours, Somnus, Morpheus, Ate the goddess of delusion, even Psyche if you give me a few hours." He treated summoning gods like he was ordering pizza. No big deal.
She envied that about him, about both of them really, Annabeth always had the answers and always searched for new creative ones, (Y/N) didn't seem to care about the status quo and just sort of did what he wanted. They were both so confident everything must have felt trivial to them.
What she needed now was to find the right answer like Annabeth would, and that sometimes you had to treat even life-threatening things like they were no big deal. Which meant calling on Pluto would be a very bad idea. And yet...
"Please, Dad," she found herself praying. "I have to find a way to your temple in Greece—the House of Hades. If you're down there, show me what to do." At the edge of the horizon, a flicker of movement caught her eye—something small and beige racing across the fields at incredible speed, leaving a vapor trail like a plane's.
Hazel couldn't believe it. She didn't dare hope, but it had to be..."Arion." "What?" Nico asked. Leo let out a happy whoop as the dust cloud got closer. "It's her horse, man! You missed that whole part. We haven't seen him since Kansas!"
Hazel laughed—the first time she'd laughed in days. It felt so good to see her old friend. About a mile to the north, the small beige dot circled a hill and stopped at the summit.
He was difficult to make out, but when the horse reared and whinnied, the sound carried all the way to the Argo II. Hazel had no doubt—it was Arion. "We have to meet him," she said. "He's here to help." "Yeah, okay."
Leo scratched his head. "But, uh, we talked about not landing the ship on the ground anymore, remember? You know, with Gaea wanting to destroy us and all." "Just get me close, and I'll use the rope ladder." Hazel's heart was pounding. "I think Arion wants to tell me something."
(Y/N)'s POV
The fall gave him a lot of time to think. In a strange way he felt as though he had far too much time while falling, but still not nearly enough, as if Tartarus was already toying with him, stopping him from making any plans or escape routes by cutting off his train of thought.
All the while still giving him just enough time that he could have come up with something, a parachute maybe? So, his hopes and plans were all dashed the moment he hit the water and the ice rushing over his body made him forget it all.
(Y/N) didn't know whether he should've been grateful or annoyed by them landing in the river. On one hand he was sure it would have been a better option than the seemingly endless landscape of barren rock he saw on the way down.
On the other hand, he really wished that his first moments on solid ground in Tartarus were more heroic. If you could call the river of Lamentation solid ground. (Y/N) considered it solid ground, considering how he landed.
Annabeth was lucky, if you could call falling straight into one of the rivers that, he was not as fortunate, while he did hit the water which helped him not be popped like a water balloon on cement, thanks to the immense effort of his one lone wing in slowing them both. His landing was not the same as Annabeth's.
She purely hit water, which was clearly not pleasant, based on the sound of "ACK" sound she let out, but it was much better than (Y/N)'s scream of muted pain as he hit not only the water, but the jagged rock lurking below the surface afterward. Typical right?
Rock as sharp as razers luckily only hit him with a glancing blow as he instinctively turned away from the painful sensation, but it still shredded the skin of his ribs, and as if the Tartarus welcome wagon hadn't already hit them like a steamroller, his injury led to a few more complications.
As soon as his blood passed into the river, it was as if a lazy, dozing river had awakened into the great surging monster it was, the banks began churning as if the tide was coming in, sloshing over their banks in an effort to entrap him.
The whirlpool was a little bit of overkill if you asked him. Not that he had time to think of it as his whole body felt as though it were turning to ice, and all the muscles that were submerged instantly began to feel like lead.
He was used to the sensation, which was the only reason he was able to orient himself. Though just for a second. He was pulled under by what felt like a chain, reminding him of his near escape from the past.
He wasn't sure if Annabeth could see them, but he could, the hundreds of souls that reached out for him. Each of them wailing and suffering. Fun fact about being the son of death. You get an instant ghost translator. Not fun when you fall into a river of misery.
Falling into the river Cocytus was a harrowing experience. The voices weren't even the worst part about, no, that was the bone-chilling coldness that enveloped every part of your body, like an ice bath from hell, literally, it hurt.
The water was icy and dark, sending a shiver throughout your whole body which left an ache that didn't ever really leave until you were well away from the riverbanks. It was by far his least favourite sensation of entering a river. Yes, even compared to the Lethe.
As they tumbled into its depths. The frigid temperatures seeped into (Y/N)'s skin, numbing his senses and making it difficult to move or breathe. Cocytus was like a dark abyss, with black waters swirling around them from the moment his blood hit the water.
The air around him was heavy with a sense of sorrow and despair, and the mist that hung over the river obscured his vision, adding to the sense of foreboding that lingered along the banks.
The sound of water rushing filled his ears, a constant reminder of the river's power and presence. This river was said to be one of the idlest of the five. That was to a normal person, to an old enemy like (Y/N), it was a roaring tide threatening to burst its banks to capture him.
He struggled to stay afloat at first, kicking, but eventually it just felt pointless. No matter how much he kicked and fought, he was getting nowhere. He would never escape. He could already feel the voices overtaking him.
He would join their chorus soon. The tormented souls all dragging him further into the dark waters of Cocytus. The icy grip of the river seemed to reach into his very soul, threatening to consume it and trap him in its cold embrace forever.
The river was keen to capture him, to drag him beneath its depths, he had escaped the grips of the rivers one too many times, now it had a hold of him again, it wasn't letting go without the fight of a lifetime.
Not only physically, but mentally too, he could already feel the river taking a toll on him. As the familiar feeling overtook him and he threw his body up in search of air as hard as he could that he came to recognise another issue. He was used to the sensation, but not the intensity.
In the back of his mind, landing in the river was no big deal, he had felt it seemingly hundreds of times before and withstood the effects, even most recently his encounters with the rivers, like being attacked by killer dust by a glow in the dark crazy department store witch hadn't been that bad.
This was on a whole other level. He had always felt the full intensity of the rivers when he used them with the king-slayer blades, which was the point of them, so he was prepared for the sensation, but in reality, no matter how prepared for it he was, it could still overwhelm him.
He had gone so long without so much as a splash of the rivers, it was the same with the witch, he was essentially just out of practice, meaning that when the feeling did hit him, it was so much more intense than he remembered. Cocytus was always one of his more difficult too.
He could see Annabeth in front of him, he could acknowledge that she was talking to him, knowing her probably some brilliant escape plan, but it was just warbling sound, her face seemed blurry and distant.
They were in Tartarus. The real Tartarus, what was the point of escaping. So, they'd die a little bit later, prolong their suffering for a few hours? Two demigods against the pits of Tartarus, where the gods, nigh omnipotent gods, didn't want to go.
His body felt heavy. His ears were ringing, he was going to drown, just like back then, he would never be able to escape the river, he wasn't even worthy to, he deserved this, after escaping it so many times.
He had been falling for days, unable to sleep, he was tired, drowning in this river wasn't the worst way to go when compared to the wasteland in any other direction. Get to the doors of death, who was he kidding?
He wasn't his dad; he couldn't close the doors even if he tried for a thousand years. His friends knew it too, it's why none of them came to help him as he fell into the pit.
Frank could have flown down and got them, so could Jason, they just chose not to because (Y/N) was useless, he was stupid enough to nearly fall into Tartarus twice. No, three times, he nearly ended up here when Typhon went down too.
Nico had nearly died, he almost broke his promise to Bianca and to Hazel, the others were the ones that really saved him, Hazel brought Nico back, (Y/N) was just useless. What was even the point of fighting it?
All he could do was hit things, and he wasn't even very good at that, I mean he had almost gotten his friends killed, or in some cases, tried to kill his friends He deserved this, to just be swept away.
He was just a killer, just like all the other monsters down here, this was what he deserved, to just fade into the nothingness and lie down on this riverbed for all of eternity. Forgotten by the world, which seemed fair.
As his head submerged for a second time, he saw it, the blueish imp-like creature that embodied the spirit of the Cocytus glaring at him from afar with cold dead white eyes. It looked sad, but happy, as if it were crying, but tears of joy.
(Y/N)'s lamentations were only strengthened when he heard the voice of the water as it churned, telling him not this time, that he wouldn't escape this time. The nymph or God, whatever it was, reached out to him, intent on dragging him further down.
(Y/N) reached out to it, I mean it would be much easier to drown like this, he needed help for everything, even dying. He could never do anything on his own, since he was so weak and pathetic.
As the pale blue clawed hand reached out for him, it seemed to laugh, the sound muted by the river. The only indication were the bubbles that rose to the surface as they passed its serrated maw. It was going to drown him, keep him. Problem with the river's plan was, nobody told Annabeth that.
(Y/N) felt the water closing in around him like a crushing force, he felt himself drifting closer and closer to the mouth of the whirlpool, at the centre was where the creature was, until suddenly a hand grasped his wrist and forcibly yanked it in the other direction.
Just like the last time, as (Y/N) was wrenched upwards from the water, he stared back at the creature, and it looked as if it began to flee. Not from him, from her.
Annabeth's POV
The impact didn't kill her, but the cold nearly did. Freezing water shocked the air right out of her lungs. Her limbs turned rigid, and she lost her grip on (Y/N). She began to sink. Strange wailing sounds filled her ears—millions of heartbroken voices, as if the river were made of distilled sadness.
The voices were worse than the cold. They weighed her down and made her numb. "What's the point of struggling?" they told her. "You're dead anyway. You'll never leave this place." She could sink to the bottom and drown, let the river carry her body away.
That would be easier. She could just close her eyes...."AAHH!" (Y/N)'s scream as he traced down the rocky shore, she felt his hand squeeze hers and it jolted her back to reality. She couldn't see him in the murky water, but suddenly she didn't want to die.
Together they kicked upward and broke the surface. Annabeth gasped, grateful for the air, no matter how sulphurous. At first, the waters were calm and gentle, but as she tread water, the river began to churn and swirl with an intensity that was impossible to resist.
The icy waters of sorrow lapped at her whole body, sending shivers down her spine and enveloping her in a numbness that made it difficult to move or breathe. The weight of her sadness dragged her down, pulling her further into the depths of the river with each passing moment.
The water swirled around them, and she realized something was creating a whirlpool to drag them down. As she found herself caught in the grip of a swirling whirlpool, Annabeth struggled desperately against the relentless pull of the water.
The powerful current tugged at them, threatening to drag him down into the depths below. With every ounce of strength she could muster, Annabeth kicked and thrashed, trying to break free from the vise-like hold of the whirlpool.
The roar of the rushing water filled her ears, drowning out all other sounds and leaving her disoriented and gasping for air. The whirlpool seemed to have a life of its own, spinning and twisting with a ferocity that was both mesmerizing and terrifying.
They were pulled with the river, further into the depths of Tartarus, and for a moment Annabeth found herself thinking that there was not a thing she could do to stop it, the voices re-affirming that didn't help either.
As she fought against the river, she felt overwhelmed by a sense of despair and hopelessness that seemed to drown out all other emotions. The current of sorrow was relentless, sweeping her away from the safety of the shore and into the heart of darkness.
The waters were murky and cold, clouding her vision and making it hard to see a way out of the darkness that surrounded her. The sound of her own sobs mingled with the rushing water, creating a haunting symphony of grief and loss that echoed in her ears.
The Cocytus seemed endless, a bottomless pit of sadness and regret that threatened to consume her whole. That was until she bashed her ankle on a rock and the white-hot pain it caused knocked her mind free of sorrow.
Though she couldn't make out their surroundings, she knew this was a river. Rivers had shores. "Land," she croaked. "Go sideways." He landed and was nearly swept away in an instant. He was not fighting against the new sudden riptide.
Instead, he seemed more focused on looking up at the ceiling, as if he could see the sky. He didn't try to kick his legs or anything. Annabeth saw him submerge again. She clenched his hand tighter in hers, the only thing keeping them together.
(Y/N) looked near dead with exhaustion. He began to sink like a lead weight, Annabeth pulled at his arm, but he didn't respond. Somewhere a little swelling of anger built up in Annabeth's chest. She didn't know where it came from but was thankful for it.
It gave her just enough strength to plunge her head under the surface of the water, she saw (Y/N) staring off into the distance again, she didn't see at what. But she didn't care. With what little strength she had left, she used both hands to pull him up to the surface.
The whirlpool began to dissipate. Annabeth hooked one arm around his waist and struggled across the current. The river worked against her: thousands of weeping voices whispering in her ears, getting inside her brain.
Life is despair, they said. Everything is pointless, and then you die. "Pointless," (Y/N) murmured. His teeth chattered from the cold. He stopped swimming and began to sink again. "(Y/N)!" she shrieked.
"The river is messing with your mind. It's the Cocytus—the River of Lamentation. It's made of pure misery!" "Misery," he agreed. "Fight it!" She kicked and struggled, trying to keep both of them afloat.
Another cosmic joke for Gaea to laugh at: Annabeth dies trying to keep her boyfriend, who ones used the rivers no problem, from drowning in them. "Not going to happen, you hag," Annabeth thought.
She hugged (Y/N) tighter and kissed him. "Tell me about New Rome," she demanded. "What were your plans for us?" "New Rome...For us..." "Yeah. You said we could have a future there! Tell me!"
Annabeth had never wanted to leave Camp Half-Blood. It was the only real home she'd ever known. But days ago, on the Argo II, (Y/N) had told her that he imagined a future for the two of them among the Roman demigods.
In their city of New Rome, veterans of the legion could settle down safely, go to college, get married, even have kids. "Architecture," he murmured. The fog started to clear from his eyes. "Thought you'd like the houses, the parks. The shrines are all different, like the bunks at home."
Annabeth started making progress against the current. Her limbs felt like bags of wet sand, but (Y/N) was helping her now. She could see the dark line of the shore about a stone's throw away. "College," she gasped. "Could we go there together?"
"Y-yeah," he agreed, a little more confidently. "What would you study?" "Dunno," he admitted. "Film," she suggested. "Theatre?" "Ancient History?" he asked. She laughed, and the sound sent a shock wave through the water.
The wailing faded to background noise. Annabeth wondered if anyone had ever laughed in Tartarus before—just a pure, simple laugh of pleasure. She doubted it. She used the last of her strength to reach the riverbank.
Her feet dug into the sandy bottom. She and (Y/N) hauled themselves ashore, shivering and gasping, and collapsed on the dark sand. Annabeth wanted to curl up next to him and go to sleep.
She wanted to shut her eyes, hope all of this was just a bad dream, and wake up to find herself back on the Argo II, safe with her friends (well...as safe as a demigod can ever be). But no. They were really in Tartarus.
At their feet, the river Cocytus roared past, a flood of liquid wretchedness. The sulfurous air stung Annabeth's lungs and prickled her skin. When she looked at her arms, she saw they were already covered with an angry rash.
She tried to sit up and gasped in pain. The beach wasn't sand. They were sitting on a field of jagged black-glass chips, some of which were now embedded in Annabeth's palms.
So, the air was acid. The water was misery. The ground was broken glass. Everything here was designed to hurt and kill. Annabeth took a rattling breath and wondered if the voices in the Cocytus were right.
Maybe fighting for survival was pointless. They would be dead within the hour. Next to her, (Y/N) coughed. "This place sucks. I've been here two seconds, already nearly died twice and now I have to go to college." He quipped.
Annabeth managed a weak smile as he glanced at her. She loved (Y/N) for trying to lift her spirits. If she'd fallen into Tartarus by herself, Annabeth thought, she would have been doomed. After all she'd been through beneath Rome, finding the Athena Parthenos, this was simply too much.
She would've curled up and cried until she became another ghost, melting into the Cocytus. But she wasn't alone. She had (Y/N). And that meant she couldn't give up. She forced herself to take stock.
Her foot was still wrapped in its makeshift cast of board and Bubble Wrap, still tangled in cobwebs. But when she moved it, it didn't hurt. The ambrosia she'd eaten in the tunnels under Rome must have finally mended her bones.
Her backpack was gone—lost during the fall, or maybe washed away in the river. She hated losing Daedalus' laptop, with all its fantastic programs and data, but she had worse problems. Her Celestial bronze dagger was missing—the weapon she'd carried since she was seven years old.
The realization almost broke her, but she couldn't let herself dwell on it. Time to grieve later. What else did they have? No food, no water...basically no supplies at all. Yep. Off to a promising start.
Annabeth glanced at (Y/N). He had followed her lead and was pulling things from his shadow. "Why do you have so many weapons?" "I forget they exist and get new ones." He said as if that was normal.
"So far, we have a skateboard, a kukri, a whip, a gun, ten dollars, and a Monster Doughnut rewards card. Oh, and I'm wearing my rings." He said, "Was I always wearing my rings? I feel like I wasn't until we got down here, otherwise I would have used them to hold on longer. Weird."
"There might be more in there, but I can't pull it out right now." He smiled up at her, but saw her expression, "What's wrong?" He asked. "Nothing. Just..." She gestured around, not really wanting to tell him she was sulking over the loss of her laptop and dagger right now.
"No! Piper still has Glimmer!" He shouted, biting his lip in frustration. With a hefty sigh he said, "Don't worry, we'll get it back." He said with a knowing look. Annabeth almost had to blink tears from her eyes.
"How's your back?" She asked to stop herself sobbing. "Fine-" He said, until he leaned forward to pick up the gun and recoiled in pain, "Scratch that. Not fine. Hurts a lot. I don't think I'm bleeding that much though." He said with a thumbs up as if it made everything better.
He looked pretty bad. His eyes were only half lidded as if he'd fall asleep any moment, his T-shirt ripped to shreds. His fingers were scraped raw from holding on to that ledge before they fell. Most worrisome of all, he was shivering, and his lips were blue.
"We should keep moving or we'll get hypothermia," Annabeth said. "Can you stand?" He nodded, "Take your pick." He said, stuffing the gun in his pocket. She picked up the kukri and tied it to her belt.
They both struggled to their feet. (Y/N) almost toppled over the moment he stood. Annabeth put her arm around his waist, though she wasn't sure who was supporting whom.
She scanned their surroundings. Above, she saw no sign of the tunnel they'd fallen down. She couldn't even see the cavern roof—just blood-coloured clouds floating in the hazy gray air. It was like staring through a thin mix of tomato soup and cement.
The black-glass beach stretched inland about fifty yards, then dropped off the edge of a cliff. From where she stood, Annabeth couldn't see what was below, but the edge flickered with red light as if illuminated by huge fires.
A distant memory tugged at her—something about Tartarus and fire. Before she could think too much about it, (Y/N) inhaled sharply. "Look." He pointed downstream. A hundred feet away, a familiar-looking baby-blue Italian car had crashed headfirst into the sand.
It looked just like the Fiat that had smashed into Arachne and sent her plummeting into the pit. Annabeth hoped she was wrong, but how many Italian sports cars could there be in Tartarus? Part of her didn't want to go anywhere near it, but she had to find out.
She gripped (Y/N)'s hand, and they stumbled toward the wreckage. One of the car's tires had come off and was floating in a backwater eddy of the Cocytus. The Fiat's windows had shattered, sending brighter glass like frosting across the dark beach.
Under the crushed hood lay the tattered, glistening remains of a giant silk cocoon—the trap that Annabeth had tricked Arachne into weaving. It was unmistakably empty. Slash marks in the sand made a trail downriver...as if something heavy, with multiple legs, had scuttled into the darkness.
"She's alive." Annabeth was so horrified, so outraged by the unfairness of it all, she had to suppress the urge to throw up. "It's Tartarus," (Y/N) said. "Monster home court. Down here, maybe they can't be killed."
He gave Annabeth an embarrassed look, as if realizing he wasn't helping team morale. "Or maybe she's badly wounded, and she crawled away to die. Spiders do that, Shelob-" "Please don't bring that up right now. She's dying. Let's go with that," Annabeth agreed.
(Y/N) was still shivering. Annabeth wasn't feeling any warmer either, despite the hot, sticky air. The glass cuts on her hands were still bleeding, which was unusual for her. Normally, she healed fast.
"Wait. Brain blast." (Y/N) said, pausing. Summoning green flames across his fingertips, he traced his hands over Annabeth's body, trying to dry her, but whatever warmth it provided was fleeting.
Despite how warm it made her feel, she wasn't getting any drier, and after a few seconds the flames died, as if someone had snuffed them out like a birthday candle being blown out. "Huh?" (Y/N) said, trying to flex his fingers and cast more flame.
He sighed, "I knew it. No magic can last long down here." "I don't feel any warmer" Annabeth said, teeth chattering, in fact the lack of the warmth she felt for a moment just made her colder. He sighed again.
"Plan B then." He said, shrugging off her and breaking the last remaining window in the car so he could tear some fabric from the seat and the gear shift from the console with his bare hands, he wrapped the fabric around the stick and then used the cigarette lighter to ignite the makeshift torch.
Only for it to be extinguished within the second he turned around to grin at her triumphantly. "I know. I'm a geniu-Oh come on!" Annabeth would have laughed if she didn't want to cry. Her breathing got more and more laboured.
"This place is killing us," she said. "I mean, it's literally going to kill us, unless..." Tartarus. Fire. That distant memory came into focus. She gazed inland toward the cliff, illuminated by flames from below.
It was an absolutely crazy idea. But it might be their only chance. "Unless what?" (Y/N) prompted. "You've got a brilliant plan, haven't you?" "It's a plan," Annabeth murmured. "I don't know about brilliant. We need to find the River of Fire."
Hazel's POV
Hazel had never felt so happy. Well, except for maybe on the night of the victory feast at Camp Jupiter, when she'd kissed Frank for the first time...but this was a close second. As soon as she reached the ground, she ran to Arion and threw her arms around him.
"I missed you!" She pressed her face into the horse's warm neck, which smelled of sea salt and apples. "Where have you been?" Arion nickered. Hazel wished she could speak Horse like Percy could, but she got the general idea.
Arion sounded impatient, as if saying, No time for sentiment, girl! Come on! "You want me to go with you?" she guessed. Arion bobbed his head, trotting in place. His dark brown eyes gleamed with urgency. Hazel still couldn't believe he was actually here.
He could run across any surface, even the sea; but she'd been afraid he wouldn't follow them into the ancient lands. The Mediterranean was too dangerous for demigods and their allies. He wouldn't have come unless Hazel was in dire need. And he seemed so agitated....
Anything that could make a fearless horse skittish should have terrified Hazel. Instead, she felt elated. She was so tired of being seasick and airsick. Aboard the Argo II, she felt about as useful as a box of ballast.
She was glad to be back on solid ground, even if it was Gaea's territory. She was ready to ride. "Hazel!" Nico called down from the ship. "What's going on?" "It's fine!" She crouched down and summoned a gold nugget from the earth.
She was getting better at controlling her power. Precious stones hardly ever popped up around her by accident anymore, and pulling gold from the ground was easy. She fed Arion the nugget...his favourite snack.
Then she smiled up at Leo and Nico, who were watching her from the top of the ladder a hundred feet above. "Arion wants to take me somewhere." The boys exchanged nervous looks. "Uh..." Leo pointed north.
"Please tell me he's not taking you into that?" Hazel had been so focused on Arion, she hadn't noticed the disturbance. A mile away, on the crest of the next hill, a storm had gathered over some old stone ruins—maybe the remains of a Roman temple or a fortress.
A funnel cloud snaked its way down toward the hill like an inky black finger. Hazel's mouth tasted like blood. She looked at Arion. "You want to go there?" Arion whinnied, as if to say, Uh, duh!
Well...Hazel had asked for help. Was this her dad's answer? She hoped so, but she sensed something besides Pluto at work in that storm...something dark, powerful, and not necessarily friendly.
Still, this was her chance to help her friends—to lead instead of follow. She tightened the straps of her Imperial gold cavalry sword and climbed onto Arion's back. "I'll be okay!" she called up to Nico and Leo.
"Stay put and wait for me." "Wait for how long?" Nico asked. "What if you don't come back?" "Don't worry, I will," she promised, hoping it was true. She spurred Arion, and they shot across the countryside, heading straight for the growing tornado.
(Y/N)'s POV
"Okay, I'll admit, didn't expect that to be part of the plan." He said, but he could see where she was going with this. Go to the river of fire, heal her ankle properly, his wing, get some warmth. One problem though, "Doesn't the river of fire burn cold?" He said, "Well, it's better than nothing." She grumbled.
"Fair enough, let's go." He said. Placing a hand over her shoulder again as they pressed on. He fought back another deep sigh. Even without the river, he still felt melancholy.
His first steps on real solid ground were still in no way as heroic as he hoped they would have been, instead it felt kind of humiliating. Not only was he now in immense pain, but he was also drenched to the bone, exhausted, terrified and worried.
He had dealt with the rivers for years on the outside world, even the underworld, he had had all five of them flowing through his veins for years with no real issues at all. Still with all that exposure, he couldn't last five minutes with them in Tartarus.
If Annabeth hadn't come to her senses before he did and stopped him from drowning mere minutes into their holiday getaway to Tartarus, he would have died and she would have been left here fending for herself, which was the last thing he wanted. How stupid was he?
This was not a good sign of things to come...He was pulled out of the thought by another, courtesy of his wondering mind. Come to think of it, when his old man dipped him in the river of fire, was that in the underworld or Tartarus. Same as when he took a dip in the Styx and came out with a supercharged soul or whatever.
He really needed to pay more attention to his surroundings. So, the rivers flowed though Hades but were also in Tartarus? Or was their source in Tartarus and they sort of branched off into Hades? Or vice versa? Man, Greek mythology was hard sometimes. Gods he was such an idiot.
"I'm sorry you had to do that. Lamentation was always one of the worst for me, I have a lot of regrets. A lot of insecurities." He said simply. She smiled at him gently, part of him knew her expression meant "I know." But instead, she said "It's okay.".
To lighten the mood a little, (Y/N) tried to share an interesting anecdote. "It almost got me eaten by a dragon once. I expected that I could've just powered through it like normal, but I guess not. I guess I really am pathetic, you saved my life, and I couldn't even-" He paused, coming to his senses, and then realizing the issue.
He turned his head to the left and banged the other side of his head, watching as a few more drops of water spilled out onto the floor. Beading on the black glass and sinking into the floor. Leaving the glass frosted as it did.
With that demonstration, he figured out the issue. "It's ice water, it's too cold to heat, but-" He paused. "Wring out your clothes, cover your hands with cloth from the seats. Make sure it doesn't touch your skin." He urged. Annabeth nodded and did so.
They hobbled back to the car. Annabeth sat inside the crumpled passenger side, and he stood outside. He rung out his shirt, glaring down at the hole in its side. Though not for the normal reason, the injury wasn't as deep as he first thought.
At first what he thought was a deep gouge based on the pain was only a light graze, barely breaking the skin, mostly just leaving it raw and sore. Despite it feeling like he had been punctured by a harpoon or something similar, not a good sign of things to come that such a small injury hurt him so badly.
He sighed at his deteriorating clothing, now closer to a tank top than a shirt. Usually, his shirts being destroyed was a warning, as Aphrodite had once explained to him, in her own weird way, she was encouraging him to wear better armour, this however gave him chills, and not in the same way.
This didn't seem like a warning, more a threat, someone watching over him sinisterly, telling him that they could get to him however and whenever they felt like it, that he had no protection. How did he gather this from a hole in his shirt? "Demigod intuition maybe?" He said aloud unintentionally.
"Oh, gods I'm talking to myself again." He muttered, remembering his stint in the Styx. He shook off like a dog, mostly to clear his head, "Really!" Annabeth said with a frown as she was splashed, luckily protected from the droplets by her shirt hung in the window. "Sorry." He muttered, but it cheered him up.
It was a little bit of normality in the chaos that sort of grounded him, no pun intended, as he watched Annabeth ring out her hair and frown at him. It made this all seem more normal, like they were just about to go fight piranha sheep or something and weren't stuck in Tartarus.
Once they were both moderately dry, they were far from as cold as they were, still bitterly so, but hopefully, not to the point of getting pneumonia before they made it to the river of fire. Which was a tiny little positive to their day.
They still huddled together for warmth though. Slowly shuffling their way across the shards of broken glass towards the glowing light in the distance he recognized as the hue of the lake of fire. But after seemingly half an hour of walking, they made little progress.
As he walked towards the distant light of the river of fire, he became lost in his thoughts and failed to notice that despite his efforts, he seemed to remain in the same spot. The surroundings blurred around him as he continued on his path, unaware that his steps were only leading him in circles.
Time passed, yet the destination appeared as far away as when they first started, leaving them in a state of confusion and frustration. He turned his head and looked back, seeing that the Italian car had barely moved away from them, he sighed again.
"Something's not right here." Annabeth said, looking around. "We've been walking for twelve minutes, and we're barely made it ten feet from the riverbank." She observed, (Y/N) nodded, a thought coming to him.
"It's Kronos." He said, when she glanced at him fearfully, he explained, "What's left of him at least. He was down here so long that he sort of-" How did he explain this in the least terrifying way possible.
"-Became part of the scenery. His power flows through this place, like how time can seem fast in a monster's lair, here, it goes slower sometimes. It's also the reason it's so dark and gloomy here, Nyx has been down here for eons...according to her."
"Thanks to Kronos's last curse. Sometimes a minute up there is a minute here, sometimes an hour down here is ten minutes up there. Sometimes the world moves slow, sometimes fast. It only got worse after he was scattered during the battle for Manhattan. It's meant to make the punishment worse."
"So, we have time to get to the Doors then." Annabeth said hopefully, (Y/N) nodded, leaving out what he wanted to say following that statement which was "Yeah, and Gaea has all the time in the world to try and kill us."
"How do you know all of this?" She asked, a fair question, one he could only answer with an unsatisfying explanation, but only because he didn't really know how he knew himself. "I'm really weird."
"I know that already." She teased, but he could feel the unease in her voice. "Don't worry Annabeth, we'll make it. I know we will." He said. "Wow, great pep talk coach." She muttered under her breath.
He chuckled. "Ok, well, if we're being truthful, I think my last 'I love you' speech really overshadowed anything I could say right now, so let's just get out of here, together." He said, gripping her hand as they ventured together into the pit.