𝐂œ𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐬é𝐬 [Percy Jackson]

110

Percy missed Bob.

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

Now their only guide was an emaciated corpse lady with serious self-esteem issues.

As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that Percy had to resist the urge to swat it away with his hands. The only reason he was able to follow Akhlys's path was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked.

If they were still on the body of Tartarus, Percy figured they must be on the bottom of his foot—a rough, calloused expanse where only the most disgusting plant life grew.

Finally they arrived at the end of the big toe. At least that's what it looked like to Percy. The fog dissipated, and they found themselves on a peninsula that jutted out over a pitch-black void.

"Here we are." Akhlys 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?

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

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

Hadrian inched forward and peered over the cliff. "I thought there was nothing below Tartarus."

"Oh, certainly there is...." Akhlys 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?"

Percy knew what she meant. The void seemed to be pulling at him, leaching the breath from his lungs and the oxygen from his blood. He looked at Hadrian and saw that his lips were tinged blue. Strangely, he wanted to tip forward, warm Hadrian's lips with his own.

Okay what the hell was he thinking? He forced himself to blink twice. Definitely Tartarus muddling his mind. He was straight. Right? And Hadrian was a guy. SO-

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

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

White smoke gathered around Percy's feet. As it coiled up his legs, he realized the smoke wasn't surrounding him. It was coming from him. His whole body was dissolving. He held up his hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct. He couldn't even tell how many fingers he had. Hopefully still ten.

He turned to Hadrian and stifled a yelp. "You're—uh—"

He couldn't say it. He looked dead.

All that talk about open casket funeral and death, Percy wanted to throw up.

Hadrian's skin was sallow, his eye sockets dark and sunken. His beautiful 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 him, his features momentarily blurred into mist.

Percy's blood moved like sap in his veins.

When you were a demigod, that went with the territory. Most half-bloods didn't live long. You always knew that the next monster you fought could be your last. But seeing Hadrian like this was too painful. He'd rather stand in the River Phlegethon, or get attacked by arai, or be trampled by giants.

Hadrian choked. "Fuck, Percy-"

Percy studied his arms. All he saw were blobs of white mist, but he guessed that to Hadrian he looked like a corpse. He took a few steps, though it was difficult. His body felt insubstantial, like he was made of helium and cotton candy.

"I've looked better," he decided. "I can't move very well. But I'm all right."

Akhlys clucked. "Oh, you're definitely not all right."

Percy frowned. "But we'll pass unseen now? We can get to the Doors of Death?"

"Well, perhaps you could," the goddess said, "if you lived that long, which you won't."

Akhlys spread her gnarled fingers. More plants bloomed along the edge of the pit—hemlock, nightshade, and oleander spreading toward Percy's feet like a deadly carpet. "The Death Mist is not simply a disguise, you see. It is a state of being. I could not bring you this gift unless death followed—true death."

"It's a trap," Hadrian said.

The goddess cackled. "Didn't you expect me to betray you?"

"Yes," Hadrian and Percy said together.

"Well, then, it was hardly a trap! More of an inevitability. Misery is inevitable. Pain is—"

"Yeah, yeah," Percy growled. "Let's get to the fighting."

He drew Riptide, but the blade was made of smoke. When he slashed at Akhlys, the sword just floated across her like a gentle breeze.

The goddess's ruined mouth split into a grin. "Did I forget to mention? You are only mist now—a shadow before death. Perhaps if you had time, you could learn to control your new form. But you do not have time. Since you cannot touch me, I fear any fight with Misery will be quite one-sided."

Her fingernails grew into talons. Her jaw unhinged, and her yellow teeth elongated into fangs.

"Once" Hadrian mumbled, "Just once I want someone to not try to kill us"