Reconnected [Book 3]

3 - Most Beautiful

(ADELIA)

When they reached the ledge, Adelia was sure she'd signed their death warrants. She did have a pretty signature though, so that's certainly something.

The cliff dropped more than eighty feet. At the bottom stretched a nightmarish version of the Grand Canyon: a river of fire cutting a path through a jagged obsidian crevasse, the glowing red current casting horrible shadows across the cliff faces.

Even from the top of the canyon, the heat was intense. The chill of the River Cocytus hadn't left Adelia's bones, but now her face felt raw and sunburned. Every breath took more effort, as if her chest was filled with Styrofoam peanuts. The cuts on her hands bled more rather than less. Adelia's torso was stretching painfully and her rib was definitely broken now.

Assuming they could make it down to the fiery river, which she doubted, her plan seemed certifiably insane.

"Uh..." Percy examined the cliff. He pointed to a tiny fissure running diagonally from the edge to the bottom. "We can try that ledge there. Might be able to climb down."

He didn't say they'd be crazy to try. He managed to sound hopeful. Adelia was grateful for that, but she also worried that she was leading him to his doom.

Of course if they stayed here, they would die anyway. Blisters had started to form on their arms from exposure to the Tartarus air. The whole environment was about as healthy as a nuclear blast zone.

Percy went first. The ledge was barely wide enough to allow a toehold. Their hands clawed for any crack in the glassy rock. Adelia climbed down next, her fingers scraped and blood, her palms now a bleeding mess.

A few steps below her, Percy grunted as he reached for another handhold. "So...what is this fire river called?"

"The Phlegethon," she said. "You should concentrate on going down."

"The Phlegethon?" He shimmied along the ledge. They'd made it roughly a third of the way down the cliff—still high enough up to die if they fell. "Sounds like a marathon for hawking spitballs."

"Please don't make me laugh," Annabeth said.

"Just trying to keep things light."

"Thanks," she grunted, nearly missing the ledge with her bad foot. "I'll have a smile on my face as I plummet to my death."

"No need for the sarcasm," Adelia said, "Oh god,I sound like my mother."

They kept going, one step at a time. Adelia's eyes stung with sweat. Her arms trembled. But to her amazement, they finally made it to the bottom of the cliff. Percy held her waist on the last few footholds, and used his t-shirt to wipe away some of the red, sticky blood. He kissed her knuckles gently, and Adelia practically melted. She was alarmed by how feverish his skin felt. Red boils had erupted on his face, so he looked like a smallpox victim.

Her own vision was blurry. Her throat felt blistered, and her stomach was clenched tighter than a fist.

"Still think I'm beautiful?" She chuckled, wiping her face, trying to remove the sweat.

Percy grinned at her, at least she thought he did, "The most beautiful girl in the world."

"Just to the river,"Annabeth said. "We can do this."

"100%." Adelia muttered, "Because nothing here is trying to kill us."

Percy jabbed her lightly, "Thought you said no sarcasm."

"It's my emotional crutch," Adelia shrugged.

They staggered over slick glass ledges, around massive boulders, avoiding stalagmites that would've impaled them with any slip of the foot. Their tattered clothes steamed from the heat of the river, but they kept going until they crumpled to their knees at the banks of the Phlegethon.