𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [Jason Grace]

67

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐢𝐩𝐩.

He'd gotten used to having the Giant on his side, lighting their way with his spear.

Now their only guide was an emaciated corpse lady with serious self-esteem issues.

As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that Jason had to resist the urge to swat it away with his hands. The only reason he was able to follow Akhlys's path was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked.

If they were still on the body of Tartarus, Jason 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 Jason. 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," Dante asked. "Where is here?"

"The verge of final death," Akhlys said. "Where Night meets the void below Tartarus."

Jason inched forward and peered over the cliff. "I thought there was nothing below Tartarus."

"Oh, certainly there is...." 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?"

Jason knew what she meant. The void seemed to be pulling at him, leaching the breath from his lungs and the oxygen from his blood. He looked at Dante and saw that his lips were tinged blue.

Deja vu fogged his vision. Leaning in, in, in, lips on his, Dante's dagger against his throat, Dante in his hands, Dante, Dante, Dante. That's the only thing that made sense in all the misery. Dante.

Jason should have seen this coming. He wasn't sure how he hadn't. He was an excellent strategist. He could observe his opponents and figure out their pattern of attack. And yet, somehow he hadn't felt himself fall. And fall he had. Hard.

He wanted to laugh. Piper would have a field day with this information. Gods, Jason missed his friends.

He tore his eyes away from Dante because there was no way he could focus on anything else if he was staring at him. Technically, Jason hadn't just fallen. It felt like he'd been falling for seven years now, slowly and steadily and now all at once.

At one point, he may have thought he could shove those feelings deep down, follow orders like he was made to do. But not anymore.

Now, all he could think of was how Dante would kiss. At thirteen, he'd been unsure, somewhat giggly. Seventeen year old Dante would probably bruise Jason, bite his lip...

He was getting distracted. He wasn't even sure Dante would want him anymore. After what he'd done to him, Jason wouldn't blame him if he didn't want Jason anymore.

"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 Jason's feet. As it coiled up his legs, he realized the smoke wasn't surrounding him. It was coming from him. His whole body was dissolving. He held up his hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct. He couldn't even tell how many fingers he had.