²𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘✸ percy jackson

XXXVII.

ΉӨЦƧΣ ӨF ΉΛDΣƧ

LUCIA MISSED HAVING BOB AROUND. She had gotten used to having the caring Titan on their side. Now their only guide was a miserable emaciated corpse lady with serious self-esteem issues.

As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that Lucia had to resist the urge to swat it away with her hands.

The only reason they were able to follow Akhlys's path without getting lost was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked.

If they were still on the body of Tartarus, Lucia 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 Lucia. 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."

Lucia inched forward and peered over the cliff. "Chaos?"

"Oh, Yes, You're a smart one....." 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?"

Lucia knew what she meant. The void seemed to be pulling at her, stealing the breath from her lungs and the oxygen from her blood. She looked at Percy and saw that his lips were tinged blue.

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

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

White smoke gathered around Lucia's feet. As it coiled up her legs, she realized the smoke wasn't surrounding her. It was coming from her. Her whole body was dissolving. She held up her hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct.

She turned to Percy and stifled a yelp. "You're—Oh gods..."

She couldn't believe it. He looked dead. It made her skin crawl and bile rise in her throat.

"You too..." His voice dragged on. His 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 her, his features momentarily blurred into mist.

Percy's blood moved like sap in his veins. For years, he had worried about Lucia dying. When you were a demigod, that was something you knew to prepare for. Most half-bloods didn't live long. You always knew that the next monster you fought could be your last. But seeing Lucia like that was too painful. He'd rather stand in the River Phlegethon, or get attacked by arai, or be trampled by giants.

It was clear she felt a similar pain.

"Oh, gods," Lucia choked on a sob. "Percy, the way you look..."