ɪ'ʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ ✯

Misery

PERCY NEVER THOUGHT HE'D SAY THIS, but he missed the hut. Before he fell, he would have thought it insane to want to be in a giant's house in the middle of a swamp, but at least it was warm and comfortable.

He couldn't say the same for this mushy quagmire. The ground was still mucky and slimy, and when it wasn't, it was covered in spikes and patches of what looked an awful lot like blood.

Percy felt like he should be exhausted... but he wasn't. Yeah, every part of his body was throbbing with pain, but at least he wasn't sore or tired.

He adjusted his drakon-leather satchel. Strangely enough, he wasn't feeling any strain from carrying that around for so long either.

Ugh. What the fuck was happening to him. (I think y'all know already. If you don't, then figure it out before Percy does or you're a Kelp Head)

Trudging through mud and past all sorts of dead-looking fern-things, Percy sighed.

All he wanted to do was get back out, to be back with his friends, to leave this dark, damp, gloomy pit of despair.

He tried to think of good times, kissing Annabeth, climbing the lava wall with Grover, sitting on the beach with Tyson, laughing with Hazel and Frank, but it was impossible.

Tartarus itself seemed to be whispering to Percy, telling him that this was the real world, that everything else was just manipulation and lies.

He almost believed it.

Pretending he was somewhere, anywhere else, he trod sullenly through muck and mud, dragging his feet.

Come on Percy. You've fought titans and giants. You can walk a bit. He told himself.

Ugggghhhhhh all he wanted to do was collapse on the mushy ground and sleep for a thousand years. Maybe he wasn't sore (somehow), but he was certainly exhausted and very very very bored.

Yeah, he was bored when literally walking through hell. But, he's an ADHD demigod, and nothing interesting had happened since he left Damasen's hut. What can you do about it?

✨✨✨⭐️Bob says hello in this time skip⭐️✨✨✨

Percy looked skeptically at the sobbing ghoul. When Damasen had mentioned help, he expected some sort of powerful, dangerous monster, maybe some odd seer, or perhaps a goddess.

Nope. Instead, he got a wailing lady dressed in rags. Typical.

Despite her... less than impressive appearance, Percy regarded her warily. In the world of the divine, especially down here, appearances meant everything and nothing.

"Eh... hello?" He called out apprehensively.

The creature raised her head, and Percy's stomach screamed, Help me!

Her body was bad enough. She looked like the victim of some sort of terrible disease—thin, stick like limbs, swollen knees, knobby elbows, rags for clothes, broken fingernails and toenails.

Sand and dust was layered and caked on her skin as though she had been covered in super glue and rolled on a hot beach.

Her face was utter desolation. Her eyes were sunken and rheumy, pouring out tears. Her nose dripped like a waterfall. Her stringy gray hair was matted to her skull in greasy tufts, and her cheeks were raked and bleeding as if she'd been clawing herself.

Unable to meet her sunken eyes, Percy glanced down instead.

Across her knees lay an ancient shield—a battered circle of wood and bronze, painted with the likeness of Akhlys herself holding a shield, so the image seemed to go on forever, smaller and smaller.

A distant memory stirred in his mind, some story his mom had told him when he was young... before all this had happened. Before the gods had ruined his life.

(No Percy no don't be like Luke don't go down that path!!!!!! Poseidon loooves you!!!!!!!)

"That shield... why is it here? I thought it was Heracles'" Percy inquired.

(Heracles is his Greek name, Percy is Greek, so it's the name I'm using!!! If you don't like it, why are you reading this story?)

Not that he wanted Hercules to have the shield. He hated that guy, he was a complete idiot... and womanizer, and just a git in general.

"He doesn't need it, does he. He, like he still others, is stuck with a fate he never wanted. Because misery overcomes is all in the end, does it not? No shield can protect you from me." The old hag wailed while coughing so hard it looked like she was choking.

Okayyyyy...

Percy backed away a bit from the crazy lady, who was apparently Misery herself. Ugh.

"Look, Miss. Misery. I'm here for some Death Mist. Either give it to me... or I'll make you." Percy whispered. His voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew the goddess had heard him loud and clear.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, flashing a short grin, revealing a glimpse of his much-too-shiny fang-teeth.

"I am Akhlys, Goddess of Misery! I was old before the Titans were born! I will not be threatened by a mere demigod!" She shrieked, before doubling over from another spasm of coughs.

Percy clenched his hand in a fist.

"I wasn't asking. Hide me in your mist, and I might just let you escape unscathed."

He knew it was wrong. This was supposed to be the other way round, him, the mortal, getting threatened by the goddess. He wasn't supposed to be the one with the power.

"The Death Mist is not for helping! It shrouds those who pass from the mortal world to the land of the dead! It causes pain and suffering and death!" She gurgled.

"Then. Give. Me. Some." Percy snarled through his clenched teeth.

Akhlys surveyed him, as if sizing him up.

"Fine. Come with me." She said. Standing up, he saw she was no longer a wailing mess but powerful, creepy, mysterious. A primordial in her own right.

Percy followed her into the foggy darkness.

~🌊