𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒¹

𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑈𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊
 

THE SQUAD BLENDED IN with the crowd of dead souls. Like Grover mentioned, the afterlife looked like a never-ending wheat field, except everything was dark. The grass was black, and the dark cloaks surrounding them certainly contributed to the ominous theme. Percy led the way, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:

JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION

Welcome, Newly Deceased!

Behind the tent were two smaller lines.

On the left side, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which glowered 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. people were being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced into sharp objects and more. They were experiencing their worst nightmare over and over again. Astoria hoped that her father was there, rotting away in endless suffering.

She shifted her gaze towards the left end of the judgment pavilion. Beyond the hill was a small valley surrounded by a gate, like rich people's gated communities. There were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history, Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian mansions. Astoria had no idea how silver and gold flowers could be real, but there they were, full bloom on the lawns of each estate. The smell of barbecue and sounds of laughter drifted over. A knot in her stomach twisted and turned. Could she ever rest peacefully in Elysium?

"That's what it's all about," Annabeth said dreamily. "That's the place for heroes."

They eventually left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into the Asphodel Fields. It got darker. The color of their clothes faded and the crowds of chattering spirits began to thin.

Astoria and her companions continued walking a few more miles, until they heard a familiar screech in the distance. As the four looked over the horizon, they spotted a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark bat-like creatures: the Furies.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.

"We'll be okay." Percy tried to say optimistically.

"Everything will end the way it's supposed to, in our favor," Astoria added.

"You have to give us an explanation when this is over," Percy told her. She stared at him uncertainly, but his sea green eyes never wavered. She sighed.

"I might as well."

"Good," he smiled cheekily.

"Maybe we should search some other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance..."

"Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm.

Here it comes. "Grover, take off your shoes!" Astoria warned him.

"Wha- woah!" The satyr yelped. His sneakers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass.

"Take them off now!"

"I'm try- Oh no!" He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away to Tartarus. Astoria chased after him, followed by Percy and Annabeth.

"Maia!" Grover shouted desperately. "Maia, already! Nine-one-one! Help!"

Percy reached out to grab his best friends, but Grover picked up speed and skidded downhill.