madness and ecstasy // leo valdez

-plot twist, curses can be broken-

Annabeth stared up at Tartarus' dark whirlpool face.

She knew she needed to think of a way out of this, but she only had seven fingers left and the world, or at least the dim sickly world she'd grown used to, was spinning.

As the ground wobbled, she caught a blurry glimpse of Percy crawling to his knees and then using a half-rotted skeleton to stand. His arm was gone, and he swayed where he stood. She wanted to call out to him, but her voice wouldn't work. 

Tony's was. It was working a lot, as he cursed out Tartarus himself and sent the pit of suffering a few nasty hand gestures. 

Tony wasn't in his normal ghostly form anymore, he had Teqi's long hair and chopped up face, but even Teqi wouldn't know some of the words coming out of her own mouth. 

Annabeth was dimly aware of the army of monsters swirling around her, but after their initial roar of triumph, the horde had fallen silent. Annabeth and Percy should have been ripped to pieces by now. Tony should've been sent back to the Underworld and left Teqi's body by the Doors of Death. Instead, the monsters kept their distance, waiting for Tartarus to act.

That could only mean what was coming was worse.

Tartarus flexed his fingers, examining his own polished black talons. He had no expression, but he straightened his shoulders as if he were pleased. It is good to have form, he intoned. With these hands, I can eviscerate you.

His voice sounded like a backward recording—as if the words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected. In fact, everything seemed to be drawn toward the face of this god—the cloudy light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even Annabeth's own fragile life force. She looked around and realized that every object on this vast plain had grown a vaporous comet's tail—all pointing toward Tartarus.

Annabeth knew she should say something, but her instincts told her to hide, to avoid doing anything that would draw the god's attention.

Besides, what could she say? You won't get away with this!

That wasn't true. She, Percy, and Tony had only survived this long because Tartarus was savouring his new form. He wanted the pleasure of physically ripping them to pieces. If Tartarus wished, Annabeth had no doubt he could devour her existence with a single thought, as easily as he'd vaporized Hyperion and Krios. Would there be any rebirth from that? Annabeth didn't want to find out.

Next to her, Percy did something she'd never seen him do. He dropped his sword. It just fell out of his hand and hit the ground with a thud. Death Mist no longer shrouded his face, but he still had the complexion of a corpse. His eyes were bloodshot.

Tartarus hissed again—possibly laughing.

Your fear smells wonderful, said the god. I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaea is right, wishing to wake from her slumber.

He stretched out his massive purple hand and might have plucked up Percy like a weed, but Bob kindly interrupted.

"Begone!" The Titan levelled his spear at the god. "You have no right to meddle!"

Meddle? Tartarus turned. I am the lord of all creatures of the darkness, puny Iapetus. I can do as I please.

His black cyclone face spun faster. The howling sound was so horrible, Annabeth brought her working hand to her ear and slumped further down, vomit rising in her throat. Bob stumbled, the wispy comet tail of his life force growing longer as it was sucked toward the face of the god.