(Y/N)'s POV
Scylla's cave collapsed as they passed through it, guided by the light from the lake of fire. They didn't have time to exchange any words, they both picked themselves up and fled as the mountain from which the cave was formed crumbled.
If they were anywhere else the stone should have held up, the rock that composed the mountain should have supported the weight, but everything in Tartarus was designed to kill you, as they were quickly coming to realise.
As they sprinted away from the rockslide that was caused by the collapse, it kicked up the glass beneath their feet, scratching their shins and ankles, it was like something was biting at them, trying to stop their escape.
The acrid smell of blood and bone was dispersed by the clouds of dust and rock that filled the air like an invasive species, leaving a thick haze of grime caking their entire bodies. They coughed and spluttered, holding their shirts, or what remained of them, over their mouths.
A stinging sensation found its way into their eyes and hands, their elbows and knees, anywhere there was an open wound burned with discomfort, but that just made them race forward faster, the promise of healing driving them.
Something was trying to slow them down just enough so that they wouldn't escape, just enough so that the falling rocks would crush them, or pin them in place, making them easy prey for some monster. They knew it was a malicious attempt to kill them.
Someone wasn't happy they dared survived their encounter with the remains of the former sea monster. The same feeling that had been tormenting (Y/N) for days was present, like a pair of eyes glaring at their backs, a presence weighing on their shoulders.
He knew Annabeth felt it too when they both shuddered in tandem and shared a glance after they finally stopped running. Breath heaving in their lungs, they both turned to see the ruin that was once a mountain, now a simple collection of jumbled rock.
(Y/N) would have been happy to walk in silence as they drew their weapons to fend off any attacks, in fact, he welcomed the silence for a while, it gave him time to think and clear his head a little.
As the rocks of the cave finally settled and came to rest behind him, he tried to keep them there, not thinking about what he had just done, putting it in the past, but that was easier said than done.
Annabeth could tell something was wrong, if the sidewards glances were any indication. "Are you okay?" She asked, trying to be gentle, both because of the injury, and because he was probably far too frustrated to hide the pain in his expression right now. He said "No."
He didn't mean to, it just slipped out, Annabeth cast him a sympathetic look, one he could have done without right now, but appreciated, nonetheless. It was good to know that she recognised when he wasn't okay, and that she cared enough to bring it up.
"That felt wrong." He explained, she took his hand, "I know, but it was just something we had to do, who knows what would have happened if she had caught us." He nodded, thankful of her use of 'we.'
What was that phrase? A burden shared is a burden halved? Still, he knew this was on him. "It was mine," he said trying his best to explain the feeling to Annabeth in a way she would understand.
"Just a good thing I had done, something I took pride in. Out of all the monsters I've hunted, of all the monsters I killed, that was probably the one..." He choked a little as they walked. He scanned the sky as best he could through the clouds of dust. "The one I was happy about."
A part of him was hoping that something would attack him just to get his mind off the pit that was forming in his stomach, the one that had been there since he squeezed the monster to death.
"It was a good thing, what you did, back then, and just now, you eased her pain" Annabeth began, probably about to tell him that killing Scylla was self-defence and that it was necessary, but that's not what bothered him. "Did I?" He muttered.
He understood all that, it was the thing that kept him moving, what was bothering him was something else. "It was a good thing, that nobody told me to do there was no agenda behind it, no hidden scheme or plot."
He sighed, "It was a reminder that I wasn't all bad. A little light of kindness I had as a reminder, but Tartarus couldn't let me have that. It had to take it away and blemish it with...THAT!" He said pointing behind them to the ruined cave, his voice rising.
He wanted to scream and shout, he wanted to vent his frustration, but there was another little evil thing about this place, he couldn't. otherwise, he risked bringing hordes of monsters their way in search of an easy lunch.
Instead, he just gritted his teeth and faced forward, "Let's keep moving." He said to Annabeth, who squeezed his free hand as they finally reached their destination, the first hurdle in their journey cleared.
Annabeth's POV
When they reached the ledge, Annabeth was sure she'd signed their death warrants. The cliff dropped more than eighty feet. At the bottom stretched a nightmarish version of the Grand Canyon.
A river of fire cutting a path through a jagged obsidian crevasse, the glowing red current casting horrible shadows across the cliff faces. Even from the top of the canyon, the heat was intense.
The chill of the river Cocytus hadn't left Annabeth's bones, but now her face felt raw and sunburned. Every breath took more effort, as if her chest was filled with Styrofoam peanuts.
The cuts on her hands bled more rather than less. Annabeth's foot, which had been almost healed, seemed to be reinjuring itself. She'd taken off her makeshift cast, but now she regretted it.
Each step made her wince. Assuming they could make it down to the fiery river, which she doubted, her plan seemed certifiably insane. "Uh..." (Y/N) examined the cliff. He pointed to a tiny fissure running diagonally from the edge to the bottom.
"We can try that ledge there. Might be able to climb down. I don't want to risk trying to fly and falling in." He didn't say they'd be crazy to try. He managed to sound hopeful.
Annabeth was grateful for that, but she also worried that she was leading him to his doom. Of course, if they stayed here, they would die anyway. Blisters had started to form on their arms from exposure to the Tartarus air.
The whole environment was about as healthy as a nuclear blast zone. (Y/N) went first, claiming he would be able to save himself if he fell. The ledge was barely wide enough to allow a toehold.
Their hands clawed for any crack in the glassy rock. Every time Annabeth put pressure on her bad foot, she wanted to yelp. She'd ripped off the sleeves of her T-shirt and used the cloth to wrap her bloody palms, but her fingers were still slippery and weak.
A few steps below her, (Y/N) grunted as he reached for another handhold. "I can never pronounce this place correctly." "What? The Phlegethon," she said. "You should concentrate on going down."
"Yeah, just saying it hurts my tongue" He shinnied along the ledge. They'd made it roughly a third of the way down the cliff—still high enough up to die if they fell. "Sounds like a marathon for hawking spitballs."
"Please don't make me laugh," she said. "Just trying to keep things light." "Thanks," she grunted, nearly missing the ledge with her bad foot. "I'll have a smile on my face as I plummet to my death."
They kept going, one step at a time. Annabeth's eyes stung with sweat. Her arms trembled. But to her amazement, they finally made it to the bottom of the cliff. When she reached the ground, she stumbled. (Y/N) caught her.
She was alarmed by how feverish his skin felt. Red boils had erupted on his face, so he looked like a smallpox victim. Her own vision was blurry. Her throat felt blistered, and her stomach was clenched tighter than a fist.
We have to hurry, she thought. "Just to the river," she told him, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. "We can do this." "Yeah, watch out Phlegethon here we come." (Y/N) said tiredly, it wasn't pronounced correctly, but it did make her smile.
"We have to drink," Annabeth said. (Y/N) glanced at her, "Easier said than done, stay here, I'll go-" He began, "No." Annabeth said, fighting to keep her eyes open, "We do it together."
He seemed perplexed by this, but nodded, "Okay." He said, not questioning why. The real reason was simple. She didn't know if she'd even make it to the river on her own, they were so close, but it felt miles away.
(Y/N) was handling the heat better than her, but not by much, they were both struggling, so exhausted they could barely stay awake. During their fall into Tartarus, they were unable to sleep for about nine days.
Now it felt as if they were faced with the mother of all jetlag, the adrenaline from the Cocytus and Scylla was the only thing that kept them up but that was wearing off fast. "Keep talking." (Y/N) suggested.
"About what?" Annabeth asked, barely forming the words. He swayed, his eyes half-closed. It took him a three-count to respond. "Uh...the river of fire?" He shrugged as Annabeth searched her mind for facts. "The Phlegethon flows from Hades's realm down into Tartarus."
Annabeth could barely talk. Her throat was closing up from the heat and the acidic air. "The river is used to punish the wicked. But also...some legends call it the River of Healing."
" Some legends? How many legends could there be about this place." (Y/N) questioned rhetorically, Annabeth swallowed, trying to stay conscious. "The Phlegethon keeps the wicked in one piece so that they can endure the torments of the Fields of Punishment."
"The Underworld equivalent of ambrosia and nectar." (Y/N) said, he winced as cinders sprayed from the river, curling around his face. They staggered over slick glass ledges, around massive boulders, avoiding stalagmites that would've impaled them with any slip of the foot.
Their tattered clothes steamed from the heat of the river, but they kept going until they crumpled to their knees at the banks of the Phlegethon. "But how do we do this, what's the best way to drink from the river?" (Y/N) asked, looking around for a bank they could sit on.
"Like this." Annabeth said, attempting to thrust her hands into the river. Stupid? Yes, but she was convinced they had no choice. If they waited any longer, they would pass out and die. Better to try something foolish and hope it worked.
He caught her hand before she made contact. "Rookie mistake." He said with a tired smirk as he barely remained upright, "I can't believe I'm telling you of all people this, but don't be so rash."
"That is, unless you want to spend the rest of your life with bedazzled knees, I suggest we pull those out first." He pointed to her legs, she looked down, now realizing that the small shards of glass were still in her.
"We don't have time, I can't...I can barely..." She apparently couldn't think and could barely form a sentence. "I know, I know." He told her to stay put, went over to the river, dipped two fingers in and then unceremoniously flicked it at her.
When the water droplet hit her skin, it was as if someone had just thrown a lit match at her. She hissed in pain, but at the same time her head felt clearer. "That's just to keep you awake. Won't heal you too much." She glared at him, "Gee, thanks."
He wrapped his arm around her and practically dragged her away. "You're welcome." He said in a pleasant tone. Before getting out his sword and slamming it into a rock. This had been a crazy few minutes.
(Y/N)'s POV
As he sat Annabeth on a decently sized rock that was formerly a spiky looking protrusion until he battered it with his sword, she was less than happy with him. He knew from personal experience that getting her to do anything she didn't want to was a foolish endeavour.
"Sit." He said, kneeling down to pull the glass shards from her legs. She was clearly confused. "How did that even work when I didn't drink any?" She asked, not expecting him to know the answer. "Your skin did."
"How many pores on the human body?" He asked, "I don't know, never had time to count." She retorted, he frowned at her, "Skin contact won't heal you exactly, but you won't feel injured either. For a minute or two at least. Done."
She raised an eyebrow, then looked down, seeming to be confused by the fact her legs were now free of any glass shards. As he moved onto her hands, he explained "You won't get the full effect, too small, and it'll hurt, but it sort of numbs your body."
"Like a magical anaesthetic?" Annabeth asked, he nodded, "Yeah, it came in handy if I ever needed to stitch myself up back in the day. It's sort of a little trick. But it only works the first few times. By the time I met you guys, it didn't work on me anymore."
He said this as he did the same thing to his own body, sitting cross legged on the jagged floor and pulling out tiny specks of glass from his knees, arms and hands, as well as some larger pieces from his legs.
"I experimented with it when I was younger. Wanted to see if I could cheat the system somehow. Hecate was too smart for me though. If I used the blades to try and cheat they'd never work further than giving me a few drops and then she made me forget it all with the Lethe anyway."
"She doesn't like cheaters. Anyway. I need you to be ready for this. Actually ready, not just white lies, because I won't lie to you, it's going to probably be the most painful thing you've ever experienced."
Annabeth scoffed "I've felt it before. Like after I held the sky. I felt it through your blades remember?" She said, standing up and steeling herself, ready to take a sip of the river, (Y/N) shook his head. "No, not like this you haven't."
"The pain is different every time, it always burns, it's always familiar, but it's never as simple as the last time you remembered it. The pain sort of adapts, like it's choosing the burn that would hurt you the most."
"Anything you've felt before doesn't matter. I can't even describe it to you, I wish I could. It will heal you though. You'll almost wish it hadn't, but it will. I will be right here beside you as it does okay?" "Okay?" She returned. "One more thing." He offered.
"I need you to keep a thought in your mind for me okay. We both know how good you are at that." She smirked a little as he said, "This will not kill you. Just remember that, if nothing else, remember that."
Annabeth's POV
She furrowed her brow, 'Of course it won't kill me, it's for healing' She wanted to say, for a moment confused by his insistence on stating the obvious, but after looking at the seriousness in his eyes, her throat felt dry.
Suddenly, taking a drink of the river seemed far more daunting. She looked at the flaming liquid in front of her, taking a deep breath, and nodded to him and herself. "This isn't going to kill me." She said, moments before scooping up a handful of the water.
On first contact, the fire wasn't painful. It felt cold, which probably meant it was so hot it was overloading Annabeth's nerves. Before she could change her mind, she cupped the fiery liquid in her palms and raised it to her mouth.
She expected a taste like gasoline. It was so much worse. Once, at a restaurant back in San Francisco, she'd made the mistake of tasting a ghost chili pepper that came with a plate of Indian food.
After barely nibbling it, she thought her respiratory system was going to implode. Drinking from the Phlegethon was like gulping down a ghost chili smoothie. Her sinuses filled with liquid flame.
It hurt but felt relieving. Like someone had shoved a welding torch in her belly while it was lit, but she felt herself get better, she could feel all her injuries mend. That was the strangest part.
She felt all her wounds suddenly. Even the ones she didn't realise she had suffered. A scratch along her back from a sharp fragment of rock in Scylla's cave. A large bruise she had on her side from impacting the river Cocytus.
She was suddenly aware they were on her body. Just when she thought it couldn't possibly get any weirder her skin began to feel like jelly and then...they were gone. The wounds had all sealed with no pain or problem.
She looked at (Y/N) with a mixture of shock and confusion. Was this all it was, the pain he warned her of? She regretted asking that even internally within the next second. When her whole body shuddered and she felt like her bones were about to burst.
Her mouth felt like it was being deep-fried. Her eyes shed boiling tears, and every pore on her face popped. She collapsed, gagging and retching, her whole body shaking violently.
"Annabeth!" (Y/N) grabbed her arms and just managed to stop her from rolling into the river. The convulsions passed. She took a ragged breath and managed to sit up. She felt horribly weak and nauseous, but her next breath came more easily.
The blisters on her arms were starting to fade. "It worked," she croaked. "It worked." She said, but then (Y/N) just looked at her with a worried expression, "This isn't going to kill you." He said quietly
She began to fear the river hadn't healed her, that the pain had made her imagine it. The reality was far worse than her imagination. It started slowly, building from her stomach, radiating outward as if it wished for escape.
The sensation was horrific. Every other time Annabeth had experienced the river of fire. It was just pain. Pure and simple. It was painful, she could wrap her head around that. What she felt when the small part of the river of fire trailed down her throat was anything but.
The heat of the fire returned in the worst way, the same white hot feeling she had upon originally breaking her ankle spread across her whole body. Somewhere to the side of her she heard her boyfriend say something about taking a deep breath but it was too late.
She couldn't breathe. She felt like every bone in her body had been snapped like a glow stick. As if every muscle fibre in her body was set ablaze. She couldn't even scream. Her body was so bewildered by the pulsing waves of pain emanating from every inch of her body.
She had recovered from every wound but her body was telling her she was in so much more pain than the wounds she had received. She was surely dying. "You're not going to die." A voice said beside her. But of course she was!
People died of shock all the time. She was smart enough to know that if she was in this much pain her body would die of shock. Anyone knew that. Her heart would give out, the heat would fry it, or pop it like a balloon, surely.
She felt an ice cube on her hand, or at least that's what it felt like to her, (Y/N)'s hand found hers, the coolness of his skin was far from cold, after dipping his fingers in the river of fire, but it felt arctic compared to what was rushing through her body right now.
"Breathe." A voice told her, and suddenly, she could, the air was hot and dry, she remembered, but when she took a breath, it was cold, as if she had just inhaled a blizzard. Everything felt cold to her now.
She finally understood what it meant for a river to burn so hot it felt cold, compared to the heat that she had just endured, everything felt cold, she told herself from this day onward, she would never complain about a hot summer's day again. Assuming she lived to see one.
Tears welled in her eyes, they felt like their own rivers of ice tracing down her cheeks as she regained her breath and looked up at (Y/N), who was smiling at her gently. She lunged forward to kiss him.
There were two reasons, one, because he had held her hand as she went through that, and two, because she would have bet her camp half blood bead necklace that his entire body was cool right now. She needed that.
She was right, it felt as though she was kissing a snowman. She still couldn't believe it even as it was happening, how could he survive being this cold. As they pulled away, he chuckled, "Oh, I get it. That'll wear off in a minute or two." He said knowingly.
"You've got to drink too." "I know..." He said with a sigh. Standing up, unbothered by the implication that he too would have to face that type of sensation. Annabeth would have been much more impressed if he hadn't stood up and slumped over.
Desperately, she cupped more fire in her palm. Ignoring the pain, she dripped the liquid into his mouth. He didn't respond. She tried again, pouring a whole handful down his throat. This time he spluttered and coughed.
Annabeth held him as he trembled, the magical fire coursing through his system. His fever disappeared. His boils faded. He managed to sit up and smack his lips. "Ugh," he said. "Tangy, yet disgusting." Annabeth laughed weakly.
She was so relieved, she felt light-headed. "Yeah. I don't think that word means what you think it means." "Inconceivable." He said. Sitting up. He shook his head and seemed fine after that.
"I have an idea, you're not going to like it, and for me, it's probably going to suuuuck. But this is the best place to do it." He said, walking to where he had pulled the glass from her legs and then up to the river of fire
"I can't believe I'm doing this." He groaned and Annabeth watched in utter disbelief as he plunged his hands into the glass shards on the shores, melting them with fire, clenching his teeth as he did, then he plunged his hands into the river of fire.
When he brought his hand out there was a sort of misshapen half apple of red hot glass inside his palms, which were now basically skinless due to the molten glass it was made of. He dropped it on the floor beneath them and it landed with a 'thunk.'
Then he plunged his hand back into the river and his hands were healed. That wasn't even the most shocking part, the most shocking part was, he barely even flinched, both when he held the orb of glass and when he put his hands into the river.
As the water found it's way into his system through the open wounds on his hands, which knitted back together. She finally found her voice, the shock subsiding as she screamed at him. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"
"Making potions." He said as if that should have been obvious. He lifted up the glassy orb to show a very misshapen glass ampule filled with water that was still blazing inside the glass.
"Wait, how does that even work? Shouldn't the glass melt?" (Y/N) asked, before shrugging and to Annabeth's abject horror, doing the process two more times. Now they had three disposable uses of the river of fire.
Annabeth was stunned. Moreso when he said, "Okay, I'm going to go heal my wing, won't be too long hopefully." Before she could even process that, he turned and began walking into the river of fire as if it were a swimming pool.
Annabeth couldn't help but shudder. She finally understood why his pain tolerance was so high, why he didn't seem bothered by injuries that might have crippled other people with pain. Up until now, she never really grasped it.
It was just (Y/N), just another 'thing' about him. Like the fact he hated bad remakes, or him always over tipping waitresses. Another thing to add to the pile of idiosyncrasies that made him (Y/N).
She had thought about it before of course, how he had probably experienced this pain at least a hundred times, how it clearly still bothered him to this day. He barely talked about his time hunting monsters, even with her.
He'd bring it up occasionally, mention it offhandedly, "Did I tell you about the time I nearly blew up an all-girls school?" Stuff like that. But if she, or anyone, probed deeper into that time of his life, he'd deflect.
In such a short amount of time he had probably been through more pain than most people would ever feel in their lives. Pain to him must have just become a slight inconvenience.
She didn't feel disgusted by this revelation as some people might have been, or disturbed by his seemingly reckless abandon when it came to throwing himself into the river.
The feeling she actually felt sort of crept up on her, as she looked to one side of her and saw his face. His expression was blank, as if he were entirely nonplussed by the excruciating pain.
As soon as she saw that, a well of sadness seemed to grab her, holding her throat in a chokehold as she stifled a sob. She wasn't entirely sure why it abruptly hit her in that moment.
It was one thing to imagine something, it was another thing entirely to see it unfold before your eyes. Leave it to Tartarus to have her finally realize just how broken her boyfriends concept of pain was.
In order to force herself not to cry, she had to force herself to laugh, remarking, "Remind me never to ask you to cook any spicy food." He smiled at her as his head submerged into the flaming liquid.
(Y/N)'s POV
He began shambling over to the river of fire and stepping in. This time he managed to stay upright, which was a plus and avoided the embarrassment he would have faced otherwise.
Of course he was met with the same eerily similar but still fresh pain of the river of fire. Trust me, no matter how used to it you were, getting fire in your eyes, is not pleasant. He only wanted to stay submerged for a second.
Things were never that easy though. At this point, he wasn't even surprised when he saw the spirit of the river Phlegethon, In fact he almost expected it, the figure wasn't a full bodied creature like the other, instead it was swirls of flame, contorting into the shape of a man.
It's shoulders were broad and it's arms long, it looked as though it were the pinnacle of health, a fiery gym bro, if you will. It's outline was made of a blazing red flame and it's body of a lighter orange, but the true intensity was clearer in it's blazing blue eyes.
They seemed powerful, and as though they could quickly become vindictive, representing the fiery and destructive forces of the underworld, they exuded an aura of power and intensity. A literal heat of the soul, but this one was different to the sprite like creatures he had almost been drowned by before.
It was much closer to a man, a humanoid figure with a smile that was both warm and inviting, but still unsettling. (Y/N) wondered if diving into this river was a mistake, even compared to the alternative of wandering Tartarus.
However, unlike the others, his river didn't seem to be maliciously wanting to drown him or even capture him, it just regarded him as he soaked in the water, as if it wanted to say, 'do you have to keep disturbing me? I'm trying to torment souls eternally here.'
He had to wonder, why were the rivers showing themselves to him, why were some so keen to capture him, and others happy to see him go? It didn't make any sense, he wanted to ask, but if you think his curiosity was worth getting fire in his mouth for, you were wrong.
It struck him the moment he began to exit the river of flame. As the pain subsided a little and he could think clearer, when he saw Annabeth and knew she had endured this pain, he realized something. Maybe they weren't the only ones.
Annabeth's POV
(Y/N) emerged from the river as if he were one of those scantily clad women in those old spy movies he loved so much, it helped that his shirt was almost entirely non-existent at this point.
"That should be good." He said, twisting and moving as though he was trying to stretch his back, it took Annabeth a moment to realize why, "Your wing, is it healed?" He made a so-so motion with his hand.
"The wound itself is healed yes, and because of that the wing can re-grow, I didn't lose this one in a pact or anything this time, so it should heal on its own given time." She nodded.
"I don't suppose when it does you could just fly us out of here could you?" He shook his head, "Based on the amount of harpies and winged creatures we've seen down here, I doubt it's that simple. Still, it's good to have it."
"We could wait here until it heals and fly back up to the top of the cliff if we need to, or I could use my wings to scout the landscape." She bit her lip, both seemed like good options, but her gut told her it wasn't the right move.
They couldn't stop here for too long, if they did she wouldn't be surprised if they soon found themselves surrounded by monsters, and as tired as she was, even with the healing, she didn't want that to happen.
Annabeth recalled the landscape she'd seen while they fell—a series of plateaus leading ever downward into the gloom. "We haven't seen all of it," she warned. "This could be just the first tiny part of the abyss, like the front steps."
"The welcome mat," He muttered. They both gazed up at the blood-colored clouds swirling in the gray haze. No way would they have the strength to climb back up that cliff, even if they wanted to.
Now there were only two choices: downriver or upriver, skirting the banks of the Phlegethon. "We'll find a way out," (Y/N) said. "The Doors of Death." Annabeth shuddered.
She remembered what (Y/N) had said just before they fell into Tartarus. He'd made Nico di Angelo promise to lead the Argo II to Epirus, to the mortal side of the Doors of Death. We'll see you there, (Y/N) had said.
That idea seemed even crazier than drinking fire. How could the two of them wander through Tartarus and find the Doors of Death? They'd barely been able to stumble a hundred yards in this poisonous place without dying.
"We have to," (Y/N) said. "Not just for us. For everybody we love. The Doors have to be closed on both sides, or the monsters will just keep coming through. Gaea's forces will overrun the world."
Annabeth knew he was right. Still...when she tried to imagine a plan that could succeed, the logistics overwhelmed her. They had no way of locating the Doors. They didn't know how much time it would take, or even if time flowed at the same speed in Tartarus.
How could they possibly synchronize a meeting with their friends? And Nico had mentioned a legion of Gaea's strongest monsters guarding the Doors on the Tartarus side.
Annabeth and (Y/N) couldn't exactly launch a frontal assault. She decided not to mention any of that. They both knew the odds were bad. Besides, after swimming in the River Cocytus, Annabeth had heard enough whining and moaning to last a lifetime.
She promised herself never to complain again. "Well." She took a deep breath, grateful at least that her lungs didn't hurt. "If we stay close to the river, we'll have a way to heal ourselves. If we go downstream—"
It happened so fast, Annabeth would have been dead if she'd been on her own. (Y/N)'s eyes locked on something behind her. Annabeth spun as a massive dark shape hurtled down at her—a snarling, monstrous blob with spindly barbed legs and glinting eyes.
She had time to think: Arachne. But she was frozen in terror, her senses smothered by the sickly sweet smell. She blinked, unconsciously shielding her eyes from the light of a polished celestial bronze blade.
A horrible wail echoed through the canyon. Annabeth stood there, stunned, as yellow dust—the remains of Arachne— rained around her like tree pollen. "How come I always have to catch the spiders?" (Y/N) sighed.
"You okay?" (Y/N) scanned the cliffs and boulders, alert for more monsters, but nothing else appeared. The golden dust of the spider settled on the obsidian rocks. Annabeth stared at her boyfriend in amazement.
Gleam's Celestial bronze blade glowed even brighter in the gloom of Tartarus. As it passed through the thick hot air, it made a defiant hiss like a riled snake. "She...she would've killed me," Annabeth stammered.
"You? THE Annabeth Chase? Naah," (Y/N) said dismissively to calm her, but just as he had said, it was just a white lie. She knew that she would have died without him there.
(Y/N) kicked the dust on the rocks, his expression grim and dissatisfied. "She died too easily, considering how much torture she put you through. She deserved worse." Annabeth couldn't argue with that, but the hard edge in (Y/N)'s voice made her unsettled.
She knew he couldn't help it, but seeing him get so angry or vengeful on her behalf. It almost made her glad Arachne had died quickly. "How did you move so fast?" (Y/N) shrugged.
"Gotta watch each other's backs, right? Now, you were saying...downstream?" Annabeth nodded, still in a daze. The yellow dust dissipated on the rocky shore, turning to steam.
She had no idea how long Arachne would remain dead. Annabeth didn't plan on staying long enough to find out. "Yeah, downstream," she managed. "If the river comes from the upper levels of the Underworld, it should flow deeper into Tartarus—"
"I was thinking about that as I took my bath." (Y/N) said, "What if we aren't the only ones here? Some of my family might be scattered around, if we can get to the Lethe, I'm willing to bet Somnus might throw us a bone from the underworld."
"Best case scenario, we might have a god on our side, worst case, well...let's not go there right now. Huh...come to think of it. It's weird that the underworld is above us, or is that just me?" He asked.
Annabeth sighed, "Let's go." "Into more dangerous territory," (Y/N) finished. "Which is probably where the Doors are. Lucky us." They'd only travelled a few hundred yards when Annabeth heard voices.
Annabeth plodded along, half in a stupor, trying to form a plan. Since she was a daughter of Athena, plans were supposed to be her specialty; but it was hard to strategize with her stomach growling and her throat baking.
The fiery water of the Phlegethon may have healed her and given her strength, but it didn't do anything for her hunger or thirst. The river wasn't about making you feel good, Annabeth guessed.
It just kept you going so you could experience more excruciating pain. Her head started to droop with exhaustion. Then she heard them—female voices having some sort of argument—and she was instantly alert.
She whispered, "(Y/N), down!" She pulled him behind the nearest boulder, wedging herself so close against the riverbank that her shoes almost touched the river's fire.
On the other side, in the narrow path between the river and the cliffs, voices snarled, getting louder as they approached from upstream. Annabeth tried to steady her breathing.
The voices sounded vaguely human, but that meant nothing. She assumed anything in Tartarus was their enemy. She didn't know how the monsters could have failed to spot them already.
Besides, monsters could smell demigods—especially powerful ones like (Y/N), son of Thanatos. Annabeth doubted that hiding behind a boulder would do any good when the monsters caught their scent.
Still, as the monsters got nearer, their voices didn't change in tone. Their uneven footsteps — scrap, clump, scrap, clump—didn't get any faster. "Empousai." (Y/N) muttered through the side of his mouth, how he could tell that she wasn't sure.
"Soon?" one of them asked in a raspy voice, as if she'd been gargling in the Phlegethon. "Oh my gods!" said another voice. This one sounded much younger and much more human, like a teenaged mortal girl getting exasperated with her friends at the mall.
For some reason, she sounded familiar to Annabeth. "You guys are totally annoying! I told you, it's like three days from here." (Y/N) gripped Annabeth's wrist. He looked at her with alarm, as if he recognized the mall girl's voice too.
She saw that he was reaching for his gun. That was not a good sign, Annabeth pressed her fingers into the handle of her kukri, missing her dagger and the familiarity it gave her wholeheartedly.
There was a chorus of growling and grumbling. The creatures—maybe half a dozen, Annabeth guessed—had paused just on the other side of the boulder, but still they gave no indication that they'd caught the demigods' scent.
Annabeth wondered if demigods didn't smell the same in Tartarus, or if the other scents here were so powerful, they masked a demigod's aura. "I wonder," said a third voice, gravelly and ancient like the first, "if perhaps you do not know the way, young one."
"Oh, shut your fang hole, Serephone," said the mall girl. "When's the last time you escaped to the mortal world? I was there a couple of years ago. I know the way! Besides, I understand what we're facing up there. You don't have a clue!"
"The Earth Mother did not make you boss!" shrieked a fourth voice. More hissing, scuffling, and feral moans—like giant alley cats fighting. At last the one called Serephone yelled, "Enough!"
The scuffling died down. "We will follow for now," Serephone said. "But if you do not lead us well, if we find you have lied about the summons of Gaea—" "I don't lie!" snapped the mall girl.
"Believe me, I've got good reason to get into this battle. I have some enemies to devour, and you'll feast on the blood of heroes. Just leave one special morsel for me—the one named (Y/N) (L/N)."
Annabeth fought down a snarl of her own. She forgot about her fear. She wanted to jump over the boulder and slash the monsters to dust with her knife...except she didn't have it anymore.
"Just try it you ragged-" (Y/N) began, his voice drowned out by the 'click' of his gun as he pressed some stones into it and lit up the handle with green flame. He gave Annabeth a look.
She knew it well, it was the 'can I kill them now' face. A term coined after she figured out to decipher it every time they were in a meeting back in camp. She shook her head. They needed more information.
"Believe me," said the mall girl. "Gaea has called us, and we're going to have so much fun. Before this war is over, mortals and demigods will tremble at the sound of my name—Kelli!"
Annabeth almost yelped aloud. She glanced at (Y/N). Even in the red light of the Phlegethon, his face seemed waxy. You were right. Empousai, she mouthed. Vampires. (Y/N) nodded grimly.
She remembered Kelli. Two years ago, at Percy's freshman orientation, he and their friend Rachel Dare had been attacked by empousai disguised as cheerleaders. One of them had been Kelli.
Later, the same empousa had attacked them in Daedalus's workshop, she was the one who impaled (Y/N) and killed him, before he struck a deal with Hades. Annabeth had stabbed her in the back and sent her...here. To Tartarus.
The creatures shuffled off, their voices getting fainter. Annabeth crept to the edge of the boulder and risked a glimpse. Sure enough, five women staggered along on mismatched legs—mechanical bronze on the left, shaggy and cloven-hooved on the right.
Their hair was made of fire, their skin as white as bone. Most of them wore tattered Ancient Greek dresses, except for the one in the lead, Kelli, who wore a burned and torn blouse with a short pleated skirt...her cheerleader's outfit.
Annabeth gritted her teeth. She had faced a lot of bad monsters over the years, but she hated empousai more than most. In addition to their nasty claws and fangs, they had a powerful ability to manipulate the Mist.
They could change shape and charmspeak, tricking mortals into letting down their guard. Men were especially susceptible. The empousa's favorite tactic was to make a guy fall in love with her, then drink his blood and devour his flesh. Not a great first date.
"She kicked me in the nuts!" (Y/N) said, holding his gun with malicious intent, ready to blow her head off. Annabeth gasped and practically tackled him to the floor. "It's too loud!"
"She kicked me in the nuts!" He repeated, it might have been funny in any other situation, Kelli had killed (Y/N). She had tried to kill Nico Di Angelo. However, to (Y/N) the greatest sin she had committed was that? Boys were weird.
I mean, Annabeth had her own reasons for wanting Kelli dead, the vampire had manipulated Annabeth's oldest friend, Luke, urging him to commit darker and darker deeds in the name of Kronos.
Annabeth really wished she still had her dagger. (Y/N) rose. "They're heading for the Doors of Death," he murmured. "You know what that means? I have a clean shot!" (Y/N) growled.
"(Y/N)!" She hissed seriously, he frowned but lowered the weapon. Annabeth didn't want to think about it, but sadly, this squad of flesh-eating horror-show women might be the closest thing to good luck they were going to get in Tartarus. "Yeah," she said. "We need to follow them."