𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

glowing antagonist

ERITH JAY
ERITH ALREADY MISSED DAMASEN.

It was pathetic, really. She had known the giant for less than a day, but he had shredded her heart all the same.

Goodbyes were never kind.

She and Percy and Bob stumbled along in the darkness, the air thick and cold, the ground alternating patches of pointy rocks and pools of muck. The terrain seemed to be designed so that Erith could never let her guard down. Even walking ten feet was exhausting. Only Percy's grip on her hand kept her from falling every two seconds.

She had started out from Damasen's hut feeling strong again, her belly full of drakon stew and a pack full of provisions. Now her legs were sore. Every muscle ached. She pulled a makeshift tunic of dragon leather over her shredded shirt, but it did nothing to keep out the chill.

Her mind shut down. Her focus narrowed to the ground she was walking on, Percy at her side, and Bob ahead of them.

Honestly, Erith felt like she was edging closer and closer to despair. Her chest shook with barely suppressed sobs. Tears fell slid down her cheeks, so she kept her head down, careful to not let Percy see. She was his beacon of hope just as well as he was hers, and if she gave up now, he would, too. For better or worse, their fates were intertwined in this miserable place.

She tried to think of good things, like how Jason's arms felt around her, or Piper holding her hand, or falling asleep in Leo's warm embrace, but even those things felt like a wrench in the gut. She felt so isolated, stuck in a wasteland with no one but a Titan and Percy Jackson. All of her other friends were gone, and at this rate she would never see them again.

Another tear slid its way down her cheek, thumping down to the terrain, wetting the dry ground. Percy squeezed her hand, but she didn't dare look at him. She didn't want to give away how shattered she really felt.

They kept walking. Erith stumbled. Percy caught her. Then they kept walking more.

After a while―Erith had no idea how long, because Bob had been right, time was hard in Tartarus―Percy muttered, "This place is worse than the River Cocytus."

Erith knew it was just a play at humor, but she couldn't have been more grateful. She would quite literally die for Percy Jackson, even with all of his flaws and stupid quirks. Which probably wasn't the best thing to think, seeing as they were in hell, and almost everything here was out to kill them.

"Yes," Bob called back happily. "Much worse! It means we are close."

Erith didn't bother to ask close to what. They would either die, or they wouldn't, simple as that. And right now, Bob was the closest thing they had to a way out.

However, the fact that Small Bob had crawled back into Bob's coveralls to hide didn't exactly reassure her.

Erith finally risked a glance at Percy. In the light of their combined swords, his face shimmered warmly. His skin was streaked with sweat, and his sea green eyes looked so incredibly out of place here. This was a boy made for a world of salt and laughter and sand, not blood and gore and muck.

Percy caught her eye before she could look away. He smiled wearily. "Hi."

"Hi," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Hey, next time we hangout, let's do it somewhere else."