My story | PJO x male reader

Chapter 40: The fall

The fields of Asphodel. Grover wasn't lying when he said, that it was like a field in Kansas. That is if a field in Kansas stretched to the ends of the earth and had billions upon billions of people in it. The people were just standing around, whispering to each other.

Occasionally, you'd find one moving but other than that, there was no movement. The grass was practically dead from how much it was trampled. A warm, most wind blew like the breath of a swamp. Black trees—Grover told us they were poplars—grew in clumps here and there.

The cavern ceiling was so high above us it might've been a bank of storm clouds, except for the stalactites, which flowed faint gray and looked wickedly pointed. I tried not to imagine one falling and impaling me right where I stood, and evidently that was a possibility as there were multiple black stalactites that had fallen and impaled themselves in the grass.

Annabeth, Grover, Percy and I tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. I tried to look at the dead that "lived" here but their faces were hard to look at. They shimmer. They all look slightly angry or confused. They would come up to us and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realized we couldn't understand them, they frowned and "walked"away.

They aren't scary. They're just sad.
We crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:

JUDGEMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION
WELCOME, NEWLY DECEASED!

Out the back of the tent came two much smaller lines. To the left, spirits were flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which flowed and smoked in the distance, a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas. Even from far away, I could see people being whipped, getting shot or being forced to run through cactus patches or listen to opera music. In the very back I could make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. And then I saw—things I hesitate to put on the page.

The line coming from the right side of the judgement pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls—a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history, Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. I could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking.
Elysium.

In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Islesbof the Blest, for people who had chosen to be reborn three times, and three times achieved Elysium.
"I wouldn't mind to go here, when I die." I said.
"That's what it's all about," Annabeth said. "That's the place for heroes."
But then I thought about how few people made it there, how tiny it was compared to the Fields of Asphodel or the Fields of Punishment. How did so few people do good in their lives. It was slightly depressing.

We left the judgement pavilion and moved deeper into the Asphodel fields. It got darker. The colors faded from our clothes. I felt that tightening feeling again, especially on my feet.

After a few miles of walking, we began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. The mist cleared slightly, allowing me to see a glittering, black palace. Above the parapets swirled three dark bar like creatures: the Furies.
"They knew we were coming, didn't they?" I asked myself.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.
"We'll be ok." Percy said confidently.
"Maybe we should search some of the other places first, Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance..."
I felt a pulling sensation on my leg.
"Come on, goat boy." Annabeth said as she moved towards Grover.
"Woah!" I yelped as my legs came out from underneath me.
"Y/N, what's wrong?"Annabeth asked me.
"I don't— woah!" My sneakers sprouted wings and started flapping like crazy now. They lifted me off the ground and then darted me away from them.

"Maia!" I tried, but it didn't do anything. Ok, THINK. I was getting faster and faster.

"Untie the shoes!" Annabeth yelled. I tried to sit up but I couldn't get my hands to the laces.

I couldn't even see my surroundings but at one point I remember taking a sharp left. The ground was tearing up my back. I still couldn't get a hand on the laces.

One thing I knew was that the cavern was getting darker.

My necklace flew into my face. Perfect.
"Ημισέληνο." I yelled. The daggers appeared in my hands and I stabbed the ground behind me.

I slowly skidded to a halt. My lower body was dangling over the side of something. I looked down and saw a massive hole.
"Holy Shit!" I yelled.

The shoes kept dragging me down but I couldn't let go of the daggers or I would fall. The worse thing was that the daggers were slowly cutting through the ground putting, almost, my entire body over the hole now.
I looked up to the entrance of the cave and saw Annabeth, Percy and Grover running towards me.

Percy yelled something to Annabeth, but I couldn't hear it.

My knuckles were white with effort. I could barely think but one terrifying thought crossed my mind:

They weren't going to get me.

My mind tried to flip through all of the scenarios, anything I could do. Nothing. So, I did whatever I did when I was scared. Make light of it.

"Hey!" I yelled. "Save the world for me!"

The dagger's were now at the edge. I've tried to transform but nothing worked. The pit seemed like it was tearing my powers away from me.

And before I knew it...

I fell

I tried to transform but no matter what I did, it felt like a brick wall kept blocking everything I tried. The radiating pain came through, but it never reached my fingertips—like an engine revving but not starting.

The only two things I remember were Annabeth screaming my name and a low chuckle, the familiar sound of nails on chalkboard.

"Welcome home."