We passed the Fields of Asphodel, looking at the multitude of souls trapped to wander endlessly in the black grass that has been trampled by eons of dead feet. I wonder if I'll go there.
Sadness creeps into me as I realize just how short of a stick Hades drew during the split of the domains. It might have been better if the council treated him with respect for such a massive and demanding job but no, they treat him like the black sheep of the family.
We crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black pavilion with a banner that read:
JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION
Welcome, Newly Deceased!
From the back of the tent, two smaller lines formed. To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which glowed and smoked in the distance, a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas. Even from far away, I could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches, or listen to opera music. I could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. Then there were the worse tortures, but Gods know they deserve it.
The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls, a gated community that seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history, Roman villas and medieval castles, and Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. I could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking.
Elysium.
In the middle of Elysium was the Isles of the Blest, and it was gorgeous. I've heard descriptions from Olympus but it looked more beautiful than described. I can only hope that's where I end up after my mortal life comes to a close, but surely that is very very many years away.
"That's what it's all about," Annabeth said like she was reading my thoughts. "That's the place for heroes."
We left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into the Asphodel Fields. It got darker. The colors faded from our clothes. The crowds of chattering spirits began to thin.
After a few miles of walking, we began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark bat-like creatures: the Furies. They were waiting for us.
"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.
"We'll be okay." Percy tried to sound confident.
"Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance ..."
"Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm.
Grover yelped. His sneakers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass.
"Grover," I chided. "Stop messing around."
"But I didn't-"
He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away from us.
"Maia!" he yelled, but the magic word seemed to have no effect. "Maia, already! 911! Help!"
Percy and I quickly try to reach for Grover's hands but we were too late. The shoes dragged him down the hill and they were picking up speed. We ran after him trying futilely to catch up.
