Wildflowers, Percy Jackson ₁

038, yeehaw in the sense that

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

₊˚࿐࿔ 𖥧‧₊⚘ ❀༉. 𓏲｡

They finally stopped in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one big pit, ringed by a slippery stone walkway. Around them, on all four walls, water tumbled from huge pipes. The water spilled down into the pit, and even when Percy shined a light, he couldn't see the bottom.

Briares slumped against the wall. He scooped up water in a dozen hands and washed his face. "This pit goes straight to Tartarus," he murmured. "I should jump in and save you trouble."

Yeah, you should, Percy was about to say, but somehow Sylvie knew what he was thinking. The look she sent Percy shut him up before he could even speak. Kinder than him, she said, "Don't talk that way. You can come back to camp with us."

"Yeah, you can help us prepare," Annabeth added, her thoughts strategic as ever. "You know more about fighting Titans than anybody."

"I have nothing to offer," Briares said. "I have lost everything."

"What about your brothers?" Tyson asked. "The other two must still stand tall as mountains! We can take you to them."

Briares's expression morphed to something even sadder: his grieving face. "They are no more. They faded."

The waterfalls thundered. Tyson stared into the pit and blinked tears out of his eyes.

"What exactly do you mean, they faded?" Percy asked. "I thought monsters were immortal, like the gods."

"Percy," Grover said weakly, "even immortality has its limits. Sometimes... Sometimes monsters get forgotten and they lose their will to stay immortal."

Looking at Grover's face, Percy wondered if he was thinking of Pan. Percy remembered something Medusa had told them once: how her sisters, the other two gorgons, had passed on and left her alone. Then last year Apollo said something about the old god Helios disappearing and leaving him with the duties of the sun god. Percy'd never thought about it too much, but now, looking at Briares, he realized how terrible it would be to be so old—thousands and thousands of years old—and totally alone.

"I must go," Briares said.

"Kronos's army will invade camp," Tyson said. "We need help."

Briares hung his head. "I cannot, Cyclops."

"You are strong."

"Not anymore." Briares rose.

"Hey." Percy grabbed one of his arms and pulled him aside, where the roar of the water would hide their words. "Briares, we need you. In case you haven't noticed, Tyson believes in you. He risked his life for you."

Percy told him about everything—Luke's invasion plan, the Labyrinth entrance at camp, Daedalus's workshop, Kronos's golden coffin.

Briares just shook his head. "I cannot, demigod. I do not have a finger gun to win this game." To prove his point, he made one hundred finger guns.