The Din of the Dead

Hades (I)

Notes: This first chapter's for Nebulapaws on AO3, who's commented diligently on every single chapter I post. You can't even imagine how much momentum and encouragement that's given me, and it means a lot. Thank you!

Claws were running across Annabeth's skin, but her eyes wouldn't open.

One moment, she was fighting to stay awake, feeling the cool stone of Hecate's temple on her cheek. Nico was idling near her, and Percy's sword was making a harsh noise on the ground as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Then Percy's hands were cupping her face, his fingers digging into her hair, his tears dropping onto her cheekbones, and she smiled as her vision faded.

Now she lay in the dark, shadows whispering and bumping against her arms. Her legs were numb, but cold seeped slowly into her toes, then up her calves, prickling painfully until she could feel her body again.

Annabeth opened her eyes and shot upright, panting. Black stone glittered on the walls and overhead, smooth and chiselled. Mist drifted on the ground.

She pushed herself onto her feet, standing on shaky knees. She squinted, but she couldn't see very far. The darkness seemed to pulse, drawing nearer like a living thing. Creatures she couldn't see skittered along the stone. She tried to swallow, but found she couldn't. She touched her throat, and for a terrifying second, her finger met air where skin should've been.

Horror flooded through her. She looked at her hands. They were only half-there, coming and going as if they were only partly made.

Through the sheen of her terror, she heard a small noise bounce off the onyx walls. Annabeth's mind dropped into practiced focus. Something was here—she felt it on the back of her neck, in the heat that rose to her head. The noise grew, echoing around the room. The mist thickened on the ground. Annabeth stumbled back, falling against the wall, tripping on her half-misted feet. Every time she blinked, the air got darker.

She slid down the wall onto the ground. It was made of long, hard sticks, so thickly covered it seemed like there was no real floor underneath.

Something soft squished against Annabeth's palm. She pulled it out from under her, and froze. Snakeskin, white as ivory, and underneath it—bones. Thousands and thousands on top of each other, some crumbling and misting the walls with their dust.

She screamed.

Annabeth scrambled to her feet, tripping on bones that cracked under her feet. She felt for the wall in front of her and followed it, the cool stone dipping and bulging until it gave way to a crack tall enough to walk through.

Annabeth leapt through into complete darkness. Mist and dust filled her nose, and whispers seeped into the tunnel from all around her. The scrambled voices got louder as she ran, heating the back of her neck. The ground sloped suddenly upwards, and she pushed forward, panic charging her up the incline.

Soft red light broke through the darkness overhead, and she sprinted for it, her feet catching and slipping on the earth. She stumbled through the opening.

Annabeth looked around, breathing hard. Dry air tore through her throat, an ache building in her chest. Time breathing Tartarus air had ravaged her lungs.

Her feet sank into red sand, and terror rose in her again. She looked frantically for a sign to counter the panicked thoughts that stormed through her head. She made out the silhouette of a dark castle shrouded in mist, regrettably familiar. Not Tartarus, she convinced herself. Not Tartarus. Just some corner piece of the Underworld. One she hadn't been to before.

Something scraped against stone, alarmingly close. She had to get further away from that exit.

She spotted an awning in the obsidian, just big enough to keep her out of sight. She pushed herself off the wall and moved for it. When she finally collapsed against the cool stone, her chest was burning. Her ankle throbbed and stung. Annabeth pressed herself against the rock and prayed nothing could see her there.

Her stomach fell. Footsteps crunched on the sand, suddenly near her. A chill crept up her spine. She flattened herself further. If she even moved, whatever was out there would see her.

Closer and closer the footsteps came, and she tensed, ready to fight or scream or die doing both. She held her breath, tried not to breathe, and then- "Nico?"

She eased, all at once. Nico di Angelo, somehow hollower in the Underworld light, sighed in relief. He sheathed his sword. "Annabeth."

"What happened, Nico? Where's Percy?"

"Hecate worked some magic at the temple, I couldn't see anything and I couldn't hear much, but then I found Percy half-awake in a puddle of—of blood."

Her heart stopped. "Who's blood?"

Nico eyed her. "Hecate's. He wasn't very lucid, but Will said he said something about not killing Hecate because... well, I think she was supposed to cure you."

Annabeth's head was reeling. A laugh burst through her mouth. "Percy fought Hecate?" She touched her forehead. "Percy fought... Of course he did." She sobered. "You said he wasn't very lucid—where is he?"

"I shadow-travelled him to camp. He's fine there, Will's looking after him."

Annabeth sighed, rubbing her collarbone. Her throat was raw. Her hand was solid now, a clear shape even in the dull light. "Nico.. am I dead?"

He smiled, barely a turn of his lips. "No, not really. You're kind of an in-between."

"Can I leave the Underworld?"

His look was cautious. "I don't know."

Annabeth shook out her hands. "Nico, I—I can't just keep doing this." A steady buzz was building in the back of her head, a rush from a current of thoughts. "It's—it's happened since Tartarus, since the war—the monsters just keep finding me, and they just keep getting bigger and bigger.

"I thought I would be safe in New Rome, or at Camp, but they got to me, even there. It's like everyone is hell-bent on killing me—even the gods." She looked up at him. He watched her, gaze steady. "I need to put an end to it."

"What are you saying?"

Her throat was dry. "I think I know who's doing it. I think if I talk to him, it might stop it. Kronos is their leader. I can't talk to Kronos, but... I can talk to Luke."

Nico looked around, shuffling on his feet. "I don't—"

"Now's my only chance. While I'm down here. He was the leader of all of Tartarus' monsters—he's holding a grudge."

"You really think Luke is behind this?"

"They all answer to Kronos. And Luke—he's angry. After all, it was me who—" Her voice broke. "Who killed him."

"Hades will be looking for you."

A beat.

"Which is why I need you."

A screech echoed off the stone. Nico looked in its direction. "This is my only chance," she pleaded. "I'm already down here. I can stop it now, for me and for Percy, before I have to go—wherever it is in-between people go."

"Okay," he said carefully. "Okay, let's do it. But—let's get out of here."