Asphodel was decidedly not where Jinora wanted to end up when she died. It was stocked full of souls wandering aimlessly for the rest of eternity, pushing through the fog of limbo.
No thanks. Paradise would be nice.
The ceiling was so high above them that the stalactites were almost hidden by black storm clouds that rumbled and groaned. Jinora tried not to imagine that those pointed rocks would disconnect from the cavern ceiling and crush them in an instant.
The four of them tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls as they hiked. For whatever reason, Jinora looked among the faded faces as if she might find someone she knew. The faces, although she couldn't see them clearly, were angry and confused mostly, and when they spoke it sounded like distant chatter. Once they realized that they weren't understood, they frowned and moved away. It made Jinora sad.
The dead weren't scary, she decided. They were just sad.
They crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black tented pavilion. The banner on it read:
Judgments for Elysium and Eternal
Welcome, Newly Deceased!
Two, much smaller, lines came out of the back of the tent. One led to the Fields of Punishment, where Jinora could see Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. There were worse tortures–tortures Jinora would wish she could unsee but never would.
Elysium branched off to the right. It seemed like a gated community of paradise, with the Isles of the Blest–for those who chose to be reborn three times and achieved Elysium each time–right in the middle. Jinora knew then that's where she wanted to go.
When she died, of course.
"That's what it's all about," Annabeth said. Percy turned to her. "That's the place for heroes."
It was so small compared to Asphodel and the Fields of Punishment. So few did exceptionally good in their lives. It was depressing, to say the least.
After another few miles of walking, as the colors around them faded and it got darker, the chattering of the spirits thinning out, they began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. They turned in the direction of the screeching and looked up at the looming obsidian palace. Three figures swirled above the parapets and couldn't be mistaken for the Furies. It was like they were waiting for them.
"I suppose it's too late to turn back now," Grover said wistfully.
"We'll be okay," Percy assured his friend, trying and failing to sound confident.
Grover suggested searching other places first, but it was pretty clear where they had to go. Annabeth grabbed him by his arm.
Grover yelped as the winged shoes pulled him forward and away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass.
"Grover," Annabeth chided. "Stop messing around."
Grover shook his head. "But I didn't–"
He yelped again as the shoes levitated him off the ground and started dragging him away from his friends.
"Maia," he yelled and panicked, but the name seemed to have no effect. "Maia! Nine-one-one! Help!"
The three of them sprinted after the satyr. Percy reached for his friend's hand and nearly got a grip on it before Grover picked up speed and was pulled out of reach.
"Untie the shoes," Jinora shouted as she pumped her arms and ran as fast as she could. She was pretty quick, making more progress at closing the gap between herself and Grover.
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Melancholy Kaleidescope | PJO
De Todo"Do you ever think before you do anything?" "Not really, no." . Jinora Hayes sought purpose and a chance to prove herself. She didn't expect that chance to be delivered gripping the horn of the Minotaur. . The Lightning Thief-The Last Olympian percy...
