𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

people stew

ERITH JAY
ERITH HAD SEEN A LOT OF HORRIBLE THINGS.

Being a demigod, it was part of the job description. She was used to seeing friends with garish wounds, and she had burned the skin off of enough creatures to have a healthy amount of respect for her powers.

But watching Percy die was quite easily the worst thing she had ever had to watch. Because it was so quiet.

He didn't make a sound except the occasional groan of pain. He flopped around and his muscles contorted underneath his flesh. Erith saw the outline and tried not to feel sick.

She wasn't a stranger to wounds. She had done her fair share of helping Will at the infirmary. But watching someone she cared about go through it, and knowing she couldn't do anything to ease his pain―that was what got to her.

There may not be a happy ending to this. Percy might die here. And she didn't think she could go on without him.

That was what terrified her.

Bob slung Percy over his shoulder like a bag of sports equipment while the skeleton kitten Small Bob curled up on Percy's back and purred. Bob lumbered along at a fast pace, even for a Titan, which made it almost impossible for Erith to keep up.

Her lungs rattled. Her skin had started to blister again. She probably needed another drink of firewater, but they'd left the River Phlegethon behind. Her body was so sore and battered that she'd forgotten what it was like not to be in pain.

 But Erith was used to sacrifice, and this was a small sacrifice to pay for the price of Percy's life. She could endure discomfort if it meant the son of Poseidon lived.

"Bob," she wheezed, "how much longer?" She was technically just asking if Percy would make it, but she was too afraid to say those very words. Some healer she was.

Bob's answer was not reassuring. "Almost too long," he called back. "But maybe not."

"Great," Erith mumbled.

The landscape changed again. They were still going downhill, which should have made traveling easier; but the ground sloped at just the wrong angle―too steep to jog, too treacherous to let her guard down even for a moment. The surface was sometimes loose gravel, sometimes patches of slime. Erith stepped around random bristles sharp enough to impale her foot, and clusters of... well, not rocks exactly. More like warts the size of watermelons. (Gods, she would kill for a watermelon right now.) If Erith had to guess (not that she wanted to, but her mind wandered), she supposed Bob was leading her down the length of Tartarus's large intestine.

The air got thicker and stank of sewage. It reminded Erith wistfully of the time she had camped out in a sewer with Jason, Piper, and Leo. Wow, if she was really looking back on sleeping in a sewer fondly, something was really messed up.

The darkness maybe wasn't quite as intense now, but she could only see Bob because of the glint of his white hair and the point of his spear. Percy flopped around again, causing the kitten to readjust his nest in the small of Percy's back. The son of Poseidon groaned in pain and Erith tried not to choke on her fear.

Her mind wandered to Jason. Had he gotten her message? Even if he hadn't, surely Annabeth was smart enough to know what to do. If she wasn't busy grieving or losing her mind with worry. If, if, if. A dozen ifs.