haunting ＊ percy jackson

xv. love and loss

As the four of them walked through the Underworld, they looked around with wide eyes. It was certainly different than Amos had been expecting. Perhaps it was due to the bias people generally held towards the Underworld — the whole land of the dead thing didn't exactly scream warm and cozy — but he had expected the land to be more desolate. Instead, the Underworld was surprisingly crowded.

There were three entrances, each of them congested as lines and lines of souls tried to get in. The entrances were labeled, two of them with signs signifying an attendant on duty — probably another spirit who would judge the souls entering — and the last line with a bright, bold sign: EZ- DEATH. Out of the three lines, that one was moving the fastest, souls entering with no issue, unlike the other two lines.

"That line probably leads to the Asphodel Fields," Annabeth said, and Amos found himself nodding in agreement, "Those souls face no judgment, they just go right in, probably because they don't want to risk being judged harshly and getting dealt something worse." She crossed her arms as she examined the lines.

For some reason, Amos felt a strange desire to defend the spirits. "That's not the only reason," He argued. "Maybe one of their loved ones is in the Asphodel Fields and they don't want to leave them alone, or maybe they don't want to wait in the long judgment lines if they think they'll be sent to Asphodel anyway." Amos stopped his defense once he realized his three quest mates were giving him strange looks. He felt a sudden rush of embarrassment — he wasn't even really sure why he had felt the urge to defend the spirits so stubbornly, when all Annabeth had made was an insignificant comment, it had just felt wrong to let the spirits go undefended when they couldn't really defend themselves to begin with — and Amos desperately hoped his face wasn't turning red. "Never mind," He mumbled, looking away from his friends in hopes of calming his embarrassment. "It's not important."

"Hold on," Percy said, and Amos was thankful to have the attention off of himself. "Judgement? There's a court for dead people?"

Spirits, Amos wanted to correct him, Souls, not just dead people. He bit his tongue instead. It was making him a bit nervous, the way the Underworld was affecting him. While his other three friends were growing more wary, anxiety rising within them, Amos felt none of that. He almost felt calm, and more confident, though it was those feelings that were making him feel the slightest bit negative; it was weird, his lack of reaction to the land of the dead, and he feared what that might mean for him.

Annabeth nodded, looking pleased that she was once again able to show off her intelligence and explain things to Percy. "Yeah, three judges. They cycle through them, but usually, they're influential spirits — Shakespeare, King Minos, Thomas Jefferson," She wrinkled her nose slightly at the last name. "They're not always good people necessarily, but they're influential nonetheless. Anyways, they look at a person's life — all the good and the bad — and decide where that person should end up. Sometimes they send people to Elysium, that's basically paradise, but other times they decide the person should be punished. Most of the time though, people live pretty basic lives, so they end up in Asphodel."

The son of Poseidon tilted his head slightly, his eyes a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "And do what?"

"Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever. Just standing and staring until the end of time." Grover grimaced at the thought. "It could be worse though. There's always that." He nodded his head to where a punishment was being dealt out. Figures in heavy dark robes surrounded one spirit, frisking him as the spirit shouted objections.

"Oh," Percy said, his eyes wide, "I remember him from the news. Some televangelist who used money raised for orphanages to buy mansions and stuff." Amos, who had been feeling conflicted about the punishment, felt all sympathy he had for the man's soul leave. Perhaps his opinion was harsher since it hit too close to home for him — he thought about the group home that he had lived at; the poor funding they had received, the second-hand clothes they all wore... it wasn't terrible, and he knew that he was lucky in a way, that he had spent most of his childhood with a roof over his head and never worrying about food, but it still wasn't easy — but Amos hoped that whatever punishment they gave him was good, that the man suffered just as much as the kids he had given false hope to suffered.