𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

follow always

ERITH JAY
ERITH WASN'T DEAD YET, but she was tired of being a corpse.

As they trudged toward the heart of Tartarus, she kept glancing down at her body, which made her dizzy. Her arms looked like bleached leather pulled over sticks. Her skeletal legs seemed to dissolve into smoke with every step. She'd learned to move normally within the Death Mist, more or less, but the magical shroud still made her feel like she was wrapped in a coat of helium.

Part of her worried that the Death Mist might cling onto her forever, even if they somehow survived Tartarus. But that was only a rare thing―she could hardly move her arms without feeling like she surely wasn't inhabiting this body.

Erith tried to focus on something else, but there was no safe direction to look.

Under her feet, the ground glistened a nauseating purple, pulsing with webs of veins. In the dim red light of the blood clouds, Death Mist Percy looked like a freshly risen zombie.

Ahead of them was the worst view of all.

Spread to the horizon was an army of monsters―flocks of winged arai, tribes of lumbering Cyclopes, clusters of floating evil spirits. Thousands of creatures, maybe tens of thousands, all milling restlessly, pressing against one another, growling and fighting for space―like the locker area of an overcrowded school between classes.

Bob led them toward the edge of the army. He made no effort to hide, not that it would have done any good. Being ten feet tall and glowing silver, Bob didn't do stealth very well.

Still, Erith marveled how good he was, to bring them into an army of monsters. He could have stayed away.

About thirty yards from the nearest monsters, Bob turned to face her and Percy.

"Stay quiet and stay behind me," he advised. "They will not notice you."

"We hope," Percy muttered.

Erith reached over and their hands connected in a ghostly display. On the Titan's shoulder, Small Bob woke up from a nap. He purred seismically and arched his back, turning skeletal then back to calico. At least he wasn't nervous.

"Hey, Bob?" Erith said, and the Titan looked at her questioningly, his big eyes gleaming. "Thank you. Seriously. You didn't have to do any of this."

Percy glanced at her, but she avoided his gaze. The ghosts were still fresh in her mind, and she hadn't yet been able to shake the feeling of steam curling from her body.

Bob smiled at her. "You are my friend. I like to help my friends. Now, let's go. Death is close."

"Yay, death," Erith muttered.

They plunged into the crowd. Erith trembled so badly, she was afraid the Death Mist would shake right off her. She'd seen large groups of monsters before. But this was different.

Whenever she'd fought monsters in the mortal world, Erith at least knew she was doing what she was born to do. She was a demigod, and as shitty as it was, she was sculpted to be a hero, and to fight at her friends' sides. But now?

She didn't belong in this multitude of monsters. 

Are you sure? a voice giggled in her head.