²𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐘✸ percy jackson

XLI.

ΉӨЦƧΣ ӨF ΉΛDΣƧ

TO LUCIA, BEING KILLED BY TARTARUS was not an honor, more like a cruel fucking joke.

As she stared up at his dark maelstrom face, she decided she would rather die in a less memorable way—Fuck glory, was all she could think, Can't I be taken out by a flying disc like dad?

No offense.

Lucia's mind went on overload, her voice became nonexistent. She couldn't close her mouth. For all she knew, she was drooling as badly as Percy did when he slept or saw blue pancakes.

She was dimly aware of the army of monsters swirling around her, but after their initial roar of triumph, the horde had fallen dead silent.

Lucia and Percy should have been ripped limb from limb by now.

Instead, the monsters kept their distance, waiting for Tartarus' next move.

Lucia couldn't wrap her head around what was happening.

No, it wasn't about the monsters.

She was used to being surrounded by them, and even if these were millions of millions, it hardly affected her.

What struck her was that she went through hell, faced her greatest of fears, and now Tartarus himself stopped her from reaching the doors...Stopped her from returning home...

The hope she had for freedom was trampled on. She couldn't believe it was all for nothing, she felt so powerless...

She was going to die, without saving Percy, her friends, or the world. She lost...All that pain and suffering, all that fighting... for what...

The god of the pit flexed his fingers, examining his polished black talons. He had no expression, but he straightened his shoulders as if he were pleased.

It is good to have form, he intoned. With these hands, I can eviscerate you.

His voice sounded like the static of a television screen. His words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected. Everything seemed to be drawn toward his face—the dim light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even Lucia's fragile life force.

Every object on the vast plain had grown a vaporous comet's tail— all pointing toward Tartarus.

Lucia pushed herself to speak, she needed to use her voice.

She swore to herself a long time ago she would never let someone control it for her. Yet, her instincts told her to hide to avoid drawing attention to herself at all costs.

Her golden aura sure didn't help, and she would probably make a joke about that if she wasn't completely horrified.

Lucia tried but she couldn't think of anything optimistic. She and Percy had only survived this long because Tartarus was savoring his new form. He wanted the pleasure of stopping their hearts with his bare hands.

Next to her, Percy did something she'd never seen him do. He dropped his sword. It just fell out of his hand and hit the ground with a thud. Death Mist no longer shrouded his face, but he still had the complexion of a corpse.

Tartarus hissed again possibly laughing.

Your fear smells wonderful, said the god. I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaea is right, wishing to wake from her slumber.

He stretched out his massive purple hand, but Bob interrupted.

"Begone!" The Titan leveled his spear at the god. "You have no right to meddle!"