Forgotten memories

The Pit

We finally slowed, our lungs burning, and spilled into a cavernous chamber filled with the sound of rushing water. The floor wasn't really a floor at all—just a wide, gaping pit, ringed by a slick stone walkway barely wide enough for us to stand on. From all four walls, enormous pipes jutted out, each spewing waterfalls that thundered endlessly into the darkness below. The spray soaked my clothes instantly, cold and heavy, and when I dared to shine a light down into the pit... there was no bottom. Just an endless black void, swallowing everything.

Briares collapsed against the wall, water dripping from his many arms. With a few of them, he scooped handfuls of water onto his face, but it didn't seem to wash away the despair clinging to him. "This pit..." His voices overlapped, low and trembling. "It goes straight to Tartarus. Perhaps I should just... jump. End your trouble."

"Don't say that." Annabeth's tone was sharp, but underneath it there was worry. She stepped closer, her voice raised slightly over the roar of the falls. "You could come back with us—to camp. You could help us. No one knows how to fight Titans better than you do."

Briares shook his heads, his features shifting into something so heavy with grief it made my chest ache. "I have nothing to offer. I... I have lost everything."

"What about your brothers?" Tyson's voice cracked. His big eye shone with desperation. "They must still be out there—standing as tall as mountains! We can find them. We can bring you to them!"

Briares's faces darkened, twisting into grief so raw it silenced even the waterfalls for a heartbeat. "They are no more. They... faded."

The word hung there, swallowed by the crashing water. Tyson blinked, and tears welled until they spilled, mixing with the spray from the falls. He stared into the pit as if hoping for an answer that wasn't coming.

"What do you mean, they faded?" Percy asked quietly, though his voice carried a kind of urgency, like he already feared the answer. "Monsters are supposed to be immortal, right? Like the gods?"

Grover's shoulders slumped, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Percy... even immortality has limits. If enough centuries pass, if they're forgotten... sometimes they just lose the will to keep going." His eyes flicked toward the black pit, and I wondered—no, I knew—he was thinking of Pan.

And suddenly I understood. I thought of Apollo mentioning Helios, how the old sun god had simply disappeared one day, leaving Apollo to pick up the slack. I'd never really let the thought sink in before. But now, staring at Briares—thousands of years old, utterly alone—I felt the weight of it. The kind of loneliness that could hollow someone out until nothing was left.

"I must go," Briares said at last, his voices heavy with finality.

"Kronos's army will invade camp," Tyson pleaded, stepping toward him. "We... we need you."

But Briares hung his heads. "I cannot, Cyclops."

"You are strong," Tyson insisted, his voice shaking.

Briares rose slowly, like every limb was weighed down by centuries of regret. "Not anymore."

Before anyone could stop him, Percy moved fast. He grabbed one of Briares's many arms and pulled him aside, their voices drowned beneath the roar of the waterfalls.

I turned away, giving them space, and found myself next to Christine. The flickering torchlight painted her face in shifting shadows, her breaths still ragged from the run. For a second, neither of us spoke, both of us listening to the endless crashing of water.

Finally, I tried to lighten the tension. "We just survived one of the worst jailers in ancient history. What's the score on that now?"

Christine gave me a crooked grin, still catching her breath. "Twenty-four to... zero. Not bad."