𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

almost sad

ERITH JAY
ERITH MISSED BOB.

She'd gotten used to having the Titan on her side, lighting their way with his silver hair and his fearsome war broom.

Now their only guide was a primordial goddess who was gladly going to torture and then kill them, thanks to Erith's enticing offer.

As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that Erith tried to swat it away with her hands a few times (predictably, it didn't work). The only reason she was able to follow Akhyls's path was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked.

Unfortunately, her glow had worn off, as far as she was aware. Still, Percy clung to her like he was a drowning man and she was a lifesaver―an ironic metaphor considering he was the son of the sea god.

Since Damasen had confirmed Erith's fears about Tartarus being the god's body, Erith figured they were on the bottom of his foot as of now―a rough, calloused expanse where only the most disgusting plant life grew.

Finally they arrived at―well, wherever they were. The fog dissipated, and they found themselves on a peninsula that jutted out over a pitch-black void.

"Here we are." Akhyls turned and leered at them. Blood from her cheeks dripped on her dress. Her sickly eyes looked moist and swollen but somehow excited. Can Misery look excited? Well, she enjoyed suffering, so surely she wasn't all misery―her emotions just revolved around misery. What a package of joy!

"Uh... great," Percy said. "Where is here?"

Erith was grateful he had asked.

"The verge of final death," Akhyls said. "Where Night meets the void below Tartarus."

Erith inched forward and peered over the cliff. "I don't... see anything." Still, her powers felt like they were slowly leeching into her ruined shoes. She turned back to Akhyls. "There's something below Tartarus?"

"Oh, certainly there is..." Akhyls coughed. "Even Tartarus had to rise from somewhere. This is the edge of the earliest darkness, which was my mother. Below lies the realm of Chaos, my father. Here, you are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been. Can you not feel it?"

Erith could feel it. She wasn't sure if she could summon light even if she tried really hard. Her body felt completely drained. She wanted to sit down; gravity felt like a press on her shoulders. She glanced over at Percy and saw that his lips were tinged blue.

"We can't stay here," he said.

"No, indeed!" Akhyls said. "Don't you feel the Death Mist? Even now, you pass between. Look!"

White smoke gathered around Erith's feet. As it coiled up her legs, she realized the smoke wasn't surrounding her. It was coming from her. Her whole body was dissolving. She held up her hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct. She couldn't even tell how many fingers she had.

She turned to Percy and yelped.

He looked dead.

His skin was sallow, his eye sockets dark and sunken. His hair had dried into a skein of cobwebs. He looked like he'd been stuck in a cool, dark mausoleum for decades, slowly withering into a desiccated husk. When he turned to look at her, his features momentarily blurred into mist.