The Fall of Jackson || EDITING

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The campers had gathered around the bonfire for the shrouding of their hero, Theseus Daniels. His body lay lifeless above the fire with the silky shroud of Poseidon wrapped around him.

"All hail Theseus Daniels, son of Poseidon, one of the seven, beloved friend, and saviour of Olympus." The voice of Annabeth Chase bellowed through the enchanted valley.

The rest of the seven stepped forwards with lit torches in their hands. Solemnly, they let the flames lick the bottom of the fire and soon, Theseus' body was engulfed in black flames.

" Ο αγώνας σου έχει τελειώσει. " Jason said and the rest of the campers chorused. (your fight is over)

Somewhere off in the distance, Anakulos scoffed as the campers voices wafted through the air and into his ears. "Pathetic."

His eyes scanned the horizon of the water. His heart telling him to enter the calm surface, but his head telling him not to be weak. The sound of the waves lapping against the sand calmed him, and the familiar smell of the salty sea relaxed him to the core.

He felt at home. But at the same time, he wanted to get as far away from this place as possible. The memories that threatened to resurface shook him during his training sessions. Every little detail he remembered seared into the back of his mind. The labor he went through to save this place, only to wish it was destroyed.

He was a coward, running from his feelings.

"You miss it." A voice from behind him caused Anakulos to instinctly tighten his grip, before loosening it when he was greeted by Nyssa and Maximos.

"I do not." He replied stubbornly and continued to stare wistfully off into the distance.

"You do, Anakulos." Nyssa pressed. "You miss everything about it. How safe you felt here once. I felt the same whilst we were on Olympus- seeing Lady Artemis and her Hunt."

"I hate it here. It is making me weak." Anakulos argued as his two friends joined his side. "The sooner End attacks, the sooner we can return home."

The three soldiers stood together like they had many times before, but now they did not face certain death. Even though they did not want to admit it, they were safe- deep down they knew.

"The campers are ready for war." Maximos pointed out. "There is no doubt. But they've grown weary waiting for the enemy."

"In three days time, if he hasn't attacked, we will take the fight to him. Greeks and Romans alike. In a week, we can return home." Anakulos instructed and breathed the salty air in one last time before turning and heading along the shore to their cabin, leaving Nyssa and Maximos to ponder after his statement.

"The campers are ready. But is he?" Nyssa whispered into the night and stared up at the constellation of the Huntress.

"He will be." Maximos comforted her. "Atleast, he better be."

Maximos stared after his leader and friends silhouette and pursed his lips.

Anakulos fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. But unfortunately, with sleep came dreams. Memories of his time in the Pit. Back when he was still Percy Jackson.

The shackles on his feet had begun to finally draw blood and he didn't think he could handle the feeling any longer.

He stopped running and hunched over to catch his breath. He couldn't do this any longer. But what other choice did he have? Tartarus had promised him an escape if he could complete his trials- which didn't seem likely at the rate he was going.

"Pathetic." Percy had started to notice that the word was one Tartarus had used quite frequently to describe hin, and almost laughed at the fact that the word had slipped into his own vocabulary.

He readied himself for the pain and took off in a sprint along the River Phlegethon, the fiery water churning as if calling him to take a sip. He ignored his pain and continued sprinting in the pace he first started with and reached the entrance of Tartarus' fortress.

A guard ran to his side and uncuffed the shackles around his ankles, giving him his directions to the throne room. Percy followed each one carefully- determined not to get lost again, and knelt before Tartarus.

"Rise, Perseus." Tartarus' cold voice echoed off the walls. "You have completed my tasks better than the others of your kind. A few more and you are free to go."

Tartarus snapped his fingers and a figure wrapped in black chains appeared at the foot of his throne. A closer look and Percy could make out the sunken face of Nico di Angelo.

"My guards found him stalking around the fortress' walls, deal to him like we have dealt to many before him." Tartarus commanded and the chaibs lifted the boys unconscious body off the ground. "He is the son of that retch Hades, so do not hold back on him."

The chains and the boy followed Percy down the endless corridors until they entered the room Percy use to be kept in.

Weapoms and torture devices lined the walls and Percy felt some of his scars reopening just at the sight of the room.

"Percy?" Nicos weak voice filled the room as Percy closed the door with a bang.

"Is that really you? We've been l-looking for you everywhere." Nico winced against the chains the surrouned him. "Th-this is..where you've been?"

"You shouldn't have come here." Was all Percy said and the chains got to work wounding themselves through the loops on the farthest wall, the floor, and the ceiling. "He isn't going to let you live."

"What'd you mean?" Nicos voice had a tone of panic hidden in it and his eyes darted around the room. They rested on Percy who had a whip in hand and cracked it menacingly.

"Perce. C'mon, man. It's me, Nico. Please, Percy. Don't do this. I'm begging you." Nico pleaded and gave up thrashing hopelessly against the wall.

"He isn't going to let you live." He repeated and the whip cracked as Nicos screams followed.

Anakulos woke with a start. Nyssa and Maximos were still nowhere to be seen as he searched the house for them. No one would see him weak.

"Pathetic." He shunned himself and his fist shattered the mirror above the fire, blood staining his knuckles and the glass.

He threw his cloak on and flicked the hood up, throwing the door of the cabin open and marching off into the woods to clear his head. He greeted Peleus the dragon and began scaling the Pine that protected the camp.

The wind whistled past his ears and tossled his hair when he reached the top. He hung off with one hand holding him in place.

The fire from the campers shrouding was still burning, but it seemed that only six people were still watching it- everyone else had gone to sleep.

The Huntress gleamed above his head and he fought the memories back down into the pit he'd made just for them.

He let his hood fall and his eyes to stare off into the distance. He saw Maximos and Nyssa still standing om the beach. He heard the hooting of owls off in the distance. He felt the pines prickling his hands. He smelt the fire, the sea, and the smell of the forest. He was trying not to let them resurface, but his heart overpowered his head for only a minute and he felt his whole body droop.

He felt himself being weak. Pathetic. How ironic.

Anakulos sat perched in the tree and rested his head. Praying for the first time in a thoudand years to whoever would listen for a dreamless sleep.

Someone must have heard him, because that night, he fell asleep in the tree to the sound of the camp and didn't dream of anything.