𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

firewater

ERITH JAY
ERITH is sure she's signed hers and Percy's death warrants. Then again, that happened long before they've reached this ledge.

The cliff drops more than eighty feet. At the bottom stretches 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 is intense. The chill from the river of despair hasn't left her, but now her face also feels raw and sunburned, which is a feeling she didn't ever think she'd have to face.

But here she is. She's sure this is just going to kill them. Surely it's a just a myth, what she's thinking of. But the alternative is to stand here and wait to die. Every time she sucks in air, her chest rattles painfully. The cuts on her hands are bleeding more rather than less.

She doubts they can make it down, but time is ticking. Erith feels death just around the corner, breathing down her neck.

"Uh..." Percy examines the cliff. He points to a tiny fissure running diagonally from the edge to the bottom. "We can try that ledge there. Might be able to climb down."

He doesn't say they'd be crazy to try. Erith wants to break down and cry and tell him he doesn't have to do this, but she knows he has to. They both have to. It's their only crazy hope in this damnable place.

"Be careful," Erith says.

He smiles, but it looks more like he's wincing. "You too."

He goes first. She follows him when he's a few feet down. The ledge is barely wide enough to allow a toehold. Her hands claw for any crack in the glassy rock to hold onto. She's terrified, to be quite honest. Her legs shake with the effort of keeping most of her weight on a few inches. Eventually, she tears off parts of her shirtsleeves to wrap around her bloody palms. It hardly helps, but at least it soaks up the blood, which has become slick on the rock.

A few feet below her, Percy grunts with effort, but she hasn't heard him fall yet, which is always a good sign. Maybe halfway down the cliff he asks, "So... what is this fire river called?"

"No idea," Erith tells him. She's grateful for the distraction of conversation, but her voice shakes embarrassingly. She feels as if she's getting weaker by the minute.

"Awesome," Percy replies, his voice strained. "And why are we climbing toward it?"

"Because," Erith says, stifling a yelp as she nearly falls, "we're going to drink from it. Hope you're thirsty."

"You're crazy," he tells her. "But I'm extremely thirsty, so I'm going to nod my head and agree with whatever suicidal plan you're on."

"Great," Erith says. "But don't nod your head too hard. Wouldn't want you to fall."

"Got it."

They climb the rest of the way in silence. Somehow, neither of them falls, which is a pleasant surprise, but Erith basically collapses as soon as her feet hit the shore. Percy wraps his arms around her waist and stands her back up, but he's trembling just as bad.

She takes a second to look at him. She's just hesitating on the river, and she knows it, but she can't muster up the nerve to go any closer. She feels like she's burning. Gods, how she misses the feel of Leo's hands on her skin. That was a good burn.