𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [Jason Grace]

53

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒.

As he fell, Dante thought about Hesiod, the old Greek poet who'd speculated it would take nine days to fall from earth to Tartarus.

He hoped Hesiod was wrong. He'd lost track of how long he and Jason had been falling—hours? A day? It felt like an eternity. All he had was his anger and fear warming him. Jason had not let go of the grip on his wrist. It felt like he never would. His touch burned worse than any lightning Dante had ever come close to, like his fingertips would burn into Dante's wrist. At first, Dante had tried to wriggle out of his grip. He'd kick and try to fall away, but Jason's grip did not give away. He just tried to pull Dante closer. Eventually he gave up.

The wind whistled in Dante's ears. The air grew hotter and damper, as if they were plummeting into the throat of a massive dragon. His recently broken rib made his chest throb, though he couldn't tell if he was still wrapped in spiderwebs.

That cursed monster Arachne. Despite having been trapped in her own webbing, smashed by a car, and plunged into Tartarus, the spider lady had gotten the last word. Somehow her silk had entangled Dante's leg and dragged him over the side of the pit. And for whatever infuriating reason, Jason had followed, trying to rescue Dante.

He couldn't imagine that Arachne was still alive, somewhere below them in the darkness. He didn't want to meet that monster again when they reached the bottom. On the bright side, assuming there was a bottom, Dante and Jason would probably be flattened on impact, since Dante couldn't tell if Jason would be able to control winds here, so giant spiders were the least of their worries.

Dante had never expected his life to be easy. Most demigods died young at the hands of terrible monsters. That was the way it had been since ancient times. The greatest heroes didn't get happy endings.

"Idiots," Dante whispered into the night. "They're all idiots."

It was summer. The night was cool and clear. Dante had been restless, having been woken up twice with nightmares, he'd given up. He hadn't even completed one year in the legion. His arm had a tattoo of a caduceus with a line he'd gotten after being accepted, while Jason's already had eight.

The water in the lake was cool in the night, a welcome change from being drenched in sweat in his bunk. Even though it had almost been a full year since Dante came to Camp, his one and only friend had been Jason. Naturally, when he still couldn't sleep by three in the morning, he snuck into the fifth cohort's bunks, into the dorm he knew was Jason's.

It was Dante who suggested going for a late night swim in the lake. Jason had been extremely against the idea. But he never had been able to say no when Dante batted his eyelashes at him.

Which is how they found themselves floating in the lake, staring at the stars above, Jason telling him stories of the heroes of the past.

"I'm going to be better than them," Dante giggled.

"I know you will," Jason smiled. He looked unfairly good in the moonlight, the water glistening on his skin. The two of them had discarded their t-shirts on the land.

"We both will," Dante's hand reached for Jason's, "Together. We'll be the greatest heroes."

"Together," Jason repeated, their fingers threading together.

Dante wanted nothing to do with Jason Grace.

Still, this wasn't fair. Not for him and not for Dante.

He'd gone through so much, both of them had. And just when it seemed that things were going well, Dante had been dragged to hell by a monster and Jason had stupidly followed.