{PERCY}

Percy felt homesick for the swamp.

He never thought he'd miss sleeping in a giant's leather bed in a drakon-bone hut in a festering cesspool, but right now that sounded like Elysium.

He and Evangeline stumbled along in the darkness, the air thick and cold, the ground alternating patches of pointy rocks and pools of muck. The terrain seemed to be designed so that Percy could never let his guard down. Even walking ten feet was exhausting.

Percy had started out from the giant's hut feeling strong again, his head clear, his belly full of drakon jerky from their packs of provisions. Now his legs were sore. Every muscle ached. He pulled a makeshift tunic of drakon leather over his shredded T-shirt, but it did nothing to keep out the chill.

His focus narrowed to the ground in front of him. Nothing existed except for that and the brunette at his side.

Whenever he felt like giving up, plopping himself down, and dying (which was, like, every ten minutes), he reached over and took her freezing cold hand, just to remember there was warmth in the world.

After Evangeline's talk with Damasen, Percy was worried about her even more than before. She just stared at the ground, her face expressionless like she'd gone numb.

He had seen her do the same thing when Bianca had died, whenever despair struck, Evangeline would shut down. She would be consumed by her thoughts, blocking out the world around her, and fading into the background.

Part of Percy was relieved the giant had turned them down. He was concerned enough about Bob's staying on their side once they reached the Doors of Death. He wasn't sure he wanted a giant as his wingman, even if that giant could cook a mean bowl of stew.

He wondered what had happened after they left the hut. He hadn't heard their persuers in hours, but he could sense their hatred...especially Polybotes's. The giant was back there somehow, following, pushing them deeper into Tartarus.

Percy tried to think of good things to keep his spirits up—the lake at Camp Half-Blood, the time he'd kissed Evangeline underwater. He tried to imagine the two of them in New Rome together, walking through the hills and holding hands. But Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood both seemed like dreams.

He felt as if only Tartarus existed. This was the real world—death, darkness, cold, pain. He'd been imagining all the rest. He shivered.

No. That was the pit speaking to him, sapping his resolve. He wondered how Nico had survived down here alone without going insane. The kid had more strength than Percy had given him credit for. The deeper they traveled, the harder it became to stay focused.

"This place is worse than River Cocytus," he muttered.

"Yes," Bob called back happily. "Much worse! It means we are close."

Close to what? The raven-haired boy wondered. But he didn't have the strength to ask. He noticed Small Bob the cat had hidden himself in Bob's coveralls again, which reinforced Percy's opinion that the kitten was the smartest one in their group.

Evangeline's hand loosely held his. In the light of his bronze sword, her face was beautiful. Her eyes met his, and for a second, the blue in them disappeared turning into black irises. "We'll get through this," she said softly. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Piece of cake."

He could see her lips turn up into something of a smile. For a moment, he actually remembered what it was like to feel happy. He had an amazing girlfriend. They could have a future together.

Then, the darkness dispersed with a massive sigh, like the last breath of a dying god. In front of them was a clearing—a barren field of dust and stones.

In the center, about twenty yards away, knelt the gruesome figure of a woman, her clothes tattered, her limbs emaciated, and the sound shattered all Percy's hopes.

He realized that life was pointless. His struggles were for nothing. This woman cried as if mourning the death of the entire world.

"We're here," Bob announced. "Akhlys can help."

If the sobbing ghoul was Bob's idea of help, Percy was pretty sure he didn't want it.

Nevertheless, Bob trudged forward. Percy felt obliged to follow. If nothing else, this area was less dark—not exactly light, but with more of a soupy white fog.

"Akhlys!" Bob called.

The creature raised her head, and the raven-haired boy's stomach screamed for help.

Her body was bad enough. She looked like the victim of a famine—limbs like sticks, swollen knees and knobby elbows, rags for clothes, broken fingernails and toenails. Dust was caked on her skin and piled on her shoulders as if she'd taken a shower at the bottom of an hourglass.

Her face was in utter desolation. Her eyes were sunken and rheumy, pouring out tears. Her nose dripped like a waterfall. Her stringy gray hair was matted to her skull in greasy tufts, and her cheeks were raked and bleeding as if she'd been clawing herself.

Percy couldn't stand to meet her eyes, so he lowered his gaze. Across her knees lay an ancient shield—a battered circle of wood and bronze, painted with the likeness of Akhlys herself holding a shield, so the image seemed to go on forever, smaller and smaller.

Evangeline however, stared right into the woman's eyes. Her hand grew colder against Percy's. "Is that...?"

"The shield of Hercules." The old hag wailed. "He painted me on its surface, so his enemies would see me in their final moments—the goddess of misery." She coughed so hard, it made Percy's chest hurt. "As if Hercules knew true misery. It's not even a good likeness!"

Percy gulped. When he and his friends had encountered Hercules at the Straits of Gibraltar, it hadn't gone well. The exchange involved a lot of yelling, death threats, and high-velocity pineapples.

"What's his shield doing here?" The raven-haired boy questioned.

The goddess stared at him with her milky white eyes. Her cheeks dripped blood, making red polka dots on her tattered dress. "He doesn't need it anymore, does he? It came here when his mortal body was burned. A reminder, I suppose, that no shield is sufficient. In the end, misery overtakes all of you. Even Hercules."

Percy inched closer to Evangeline. He tried to remember why they were here. but the sense of despair made it difficult to think. Hearing Akhlys speak, he no longer found it strange that she had clawed her own cheeks. The goddess radiated pure pain.

"Bob," he said, "we shouldn't have come here."

From somewhere inside the Titan's uniform, the skeleton kitten mewled in agreement.

The Titan shifted and winced as if Small Bob was clawing his armpit. "Akhlys controls the Death Mist," he insisted. "She can hide you."

"Hide them?" The goddess of Misery made a gurgling sound. She was either laughing or choking to death. "Why would I do that?"

"They must reach the Doors of Death," Bob said. "To return to the mortal world."

"Impossible!" Akhlys said. "The armies of Tartarus will find you. They will kill you."

Evangeline spun the blade of her drakon-bone knife, which Percy had to admit made her look pretty intimidating and hot in a "Barbarian Princess" kind of way. "So you're useless then?"

The goddess bared her broken yellow teeth. "Useless? Who are you?"

"That's none of your concern," Evangeline said, "What I asked if can you help us, or are you just some minor goddess?"

The dust quivered at their feet. Fog swirled around them with a sound like agonized wailing.

"Minor goddess?" Akhlys's gnarled fingernails dug into Hercules' shield, gouging the metal. "I was old before the Titans were born, you ignorant girl. I was old when Gaea first woke. Misery is eternal. Existence is misery. I was born of the eldest gods—of Chaos and Night. I was—"

"Are you useful or not?" Evangeline repeated.

Percy glanced at her and from the look on her face, he realized she wanted him to go along with her plan.

"I mean...she is right!" He volunteered. "Bob brought us all this way because he thought you could help. But I guess you're too busy staring at that shield and crying. I can't blame you. It looks just like you."

Akhlys wailed and glared at the Titan. "Why did you inflict these annoying children on me?"

Bob made a sound somewhere between a rumble and a whimper. "I thought—I thought—"

"The Death Mist is not for helping!" Akhlys shrieked. "It shrouds mortals in misery as their souls pass into the Underworld. It is the very breath of Tartarus, of death, of despair!"

"Awesome," Percy said. "Could we get two orders of that to go?"

The goddess hissed. "Ask me for a more sensible gift. I am also the goddess of poisons. I could give you death—thousands of ways to die less painful than the one you have chosen by marching into the heart of the pit."

Around the goddess, flowers bloomed in the dust—dark purple, orange, and red blossoms, that smelled sickly sweet. Percy's head swam.

"Nightshade," Akhlys offered. "Hemlock. Belladonna, henbane, or struchnine. I can dissolve your innards, boil your blood."

"That's very nice of you," said the son of Poseidon. "But I've had enough poison for one trip. Now, can you hide us in your Death Mist, or not?"

"It'll be fun, you know," Evangeline tilted her head.

The goddess' eyes narrowed. "Fun?"

"Yeah," The brunette said. "If we fail, think of how great it will be for you, gloating over our spirits when we die in agony. You'll get to say 'I told you so' for eternity."

"Or, if we succeed," Percy added, "think of all the suffering you'll bring to the monsters down here. We intend to seal the Doors of Death. That's going to cause a lot of wailing and moaning."

Akhlys considered. "I enjoy suffering. Wailing is also good."

"Then it's settled," Percy said. "Make us invisible."

The goddess struggled to her feet. The shield of Hercules rolled away and wobbled to a stop in a patch of poison flowers. "It is not simple," she said. "The Death Mist comes at the moment you are closest to your end. Your eyes will be clouded only then. The world will fade."

Percy's mouth went dry. "Okay. But...we'll be shrouded from the monsters?"

"Oh, yes," Akhlys said. "If you survive the process, you will be able to pass unnoticed among the armies of Tartarus. It is hopeless, of course, but if you are determined, then come. I will show you the way."

The goddess shuffled into the gloom without another word.

Percy turned to look at Bob, but the Titan was gone. How does a ten-foot-tall silver dude with a very loud kitten disappear?

"Hey!" Percy yelled to the goddess. "Where's our friend?"

"He cannot take this path," the goddess called back. "He is not mortal. Come, little fools. Come experience the Death Mist."

Evangeline clenched her jaw and spared Percy a glance. "C'mon," she murmured.

They followed the goddess' dusty footprints through the poison flowers, deeper into the fog.

Percy missed Bob.

He'd gotten used to having the Titan on his side, lighting their way with his silver hair and fearsome war broom. Now their only guide was an emaciated corpse lady with serious self-esteem issues.

As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that the raven-haired boy had to resist the urge to swat it away with his hands. The only reason he was able to follow the goddess' path was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked.

If they were still on the body of Tartarus, Percy figured they must be on the bottom of his foot—a rough, calloused expanse where only the most disgusting plant life grew.

Finally, they arrived at the end of the big toe. At least that's what it looked like to him. The fog dissipated, and they found themselves on a peninsula that jutted out over a pitch-black void.

"Here we are." Akhlys turned and leered at them. Blood from her cheeks dropped on her dress. Her sickly eye looked moist and swollen but somehow excited. Can Misery look excited?

"Uh...great," Percy asked. "Where is here?"

"The verge of final death," Akhlys said. "Where Night meets the void below Tartarus."

"There's something below Tartarus?" Evangeline asked, peering over the cliff with an enticed look on her face.

"Oh, certainly there is..." Akhlys coughed. "Even Tartarus had to rise from somewhere. This is the edge of the earliest darkness, which was my mother. Below lies the realm of Chaos, my father. Here, you are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been. Can you not feel it?"

Percy knew what she meant. The void seemed to be pulling at him, leaching the breath from his lungs and the oxygen from his blood. He looked at Evangeline and saw that her lips were tinged blue.

The black veins on her neck spread up to the back of her ear, and her hands twitched at her side like they wanted to reach out into the void. "We can't stay here," he said.

"No, indeed!" Akhlys said. "Don't you feel the Death Mist? Even now, you pass between. Look!"

White smoke gathered around the son of Poseidon's feet. As it coiled up his legs, he realized the smoke wasn't surrounding him. It was coming from him. His whole body was dissolving. He held up his hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct. He couldn't even tell how many fingers he had. Hopefully still ten.

He turned to Evangeline and stifled a yelp. "You're—uh—"

He couldn't say it. She looked dead.

Her skin was sallow, her eye sockets dark and sunken as she stared at the darkness below. Her hair had dried into a skein of cobwebs. She looked like she'd been stuck in a cool, dark mausoleum for decades, slowly withering into a desiccated husk. When she glanced at him, her features momentarily blurred into mist.

Percy's blood moved like sap in his veins.

For years, he had worried about Evangeline dying. When you were a demigod, that went with the territory. Most half-bloods didn't live long. You always knew that the monster you fought could be your last. But seeing her like this was too painful. He'd rather stand in the River Phlegethon, or get attacked by arai, or be trampled by giants.

Evangeline stared at him. "You look..."

Percy studied his arms. All he saw were blobs of white mist, but he guessed that to her he looked like a corpse. He took a few steps, though it was difficult. His body felt insubstantial like he was made of helium and cotton candy.

"I've looked better," he decided. "I can't move very well. But I'm all right."

Akhlys clucked. "Oh, you're definitely not all right."

Percy frowned. "But we'll pass unseen now? We can get to the Doors of Death?"

"Well, perhaps you could," the goddess said, "if you lived that long, which you won't."

Akhlys spread her gnarled fingers. More plants bloomed along the edge of the pit—hemlock, nightshade, and oleander spreading toward the raven-haired boy's feet like a deadly carpet. "The Death Mist is not simply a disguise, you see. It is a state of being. I could not bring you this gift unless death followed—true death."

"It's a trap," Evangeline said.

The goddess cackled. "Didn't you expect me to betray you?"

"Yes," The children of the Big Three said together.

"Well, then, it was hardly a trap! More of an inevitability. Misery is inevitable. Pain is—"

"Yeah, yeah," Percy growled. "Let's get to the fighting."

He drew Riptide, but the blade was made of smoke. When he slashed at Akhlys, the sword just floated across her like a gentle breeze.

The goddess' ruined mouth split into a grin. "Did I forget to mention? You are only mist now—a shadow before death. Perhaps if you had time, you could learn to control your new form. But you do not have time. Since you cannot touch me, I fear any fight with Misery will be quite one-sided."

Her fingernails grew into talons. Her jaw unhinged, and her yellow teeth elongated into fangs.

Akhlys lunged at the son of Poseidon, and for a split second he thought: Well, hey, I'm just smoke. She can't touch me, right?

He imagined the Fates up in Olymous, laughing at his wishful thinking: LOL, NOOB!

The goddess' claws raked across his chest and stung like boiling water.

Percy stumbled backward, but he wasn't used to being smoky. His legs moved too slowly. His arms felt like tissue paper. In desperation, he threw his backpack at her, thinking maybe it would turn solid when it felt his hand, but no such luck. It fell with a soft thud.

Akhlys snarled, crouching to a spring. She would've bitten Percy's face off if Evangeline hadn't screamed in the goddess' ear.

Akhlys flinched, turning toward the sound.

She lashed out at the brunette, but she was better at moving than Percy. Maybe she wasn't feeling as smoky, or maybe she'd just spent enough time with spirits to know how they moved. She had been seeing ghosts since—who knows how long, she must've picked up on their ways.

Evangeline dodged the goddess like a matador. Akhlys attacked her, but a tendril of darkness smacked the goddess in the face. Percy was so stunned, he lost a few precious seconds.

He stared at corpse Evangeline, shrouded in mist but moving as fast as ever. Then it occurred to him why she was doing this: to buy them time. Which meant Percy needed to help.

He thought furiously, trying to come up with a way to defeat Misery. How could he fight when he couldn't touch anything?

Suddenly, the brunette faltered and froze, her eyes dazed over, distracting her for a second. Akhlys took the opportunity grabbed her wrist and pulled her hard, sending her sprawling on the edge of the cliff.

Before the goddess could pounce, Percy advanced, yelling and waving his sword. He still felt about as solid as a Kleenex, but his anger seemed to help him move faster. "Hey, Happy!" he yelled.

Akhys spun, dropping the brunette's arm. "Happy?" she demanded.

"Yeah!" He ducked as she swiped at his head. "You're downright cheerful!"

With a growl of frustration, she lunged again, but she was off balance. Percy sidestepped and backed away, leading the goddess farther away from the daughter of Hades.

"Pleasant!" He called. "Delightful!"

The goddess snarled and winced. She stumbled after Percy. Each compliment seemed to hit her like sand in the face.

"I will kill you slowly!" She growled her eyes and nose watering, blood dripping from her cheeks. "I will cut you into pieces as a sacrifice to Night!"

Evangeline managed to back away from the edge of the cliff, her hands pressed against her ears as if trying to block something out. Something was wrong.

Percy wanted to help her, but he had to keep Akhlys' attention on him. "Cuddly!" he yelled. "Fuzzy, warm, and huggable!"

The goddess made a growling, choking noise like a cat having a seizure. "A slow death!" She screamed. "A death from a thousand poisons!"

All around her, poisonous plants grew and burst like overfilled balloons. Green-and-white sap trickled out, collecting into pools, and began flowing across the ground toward Percy. The sweet-smelling fumes made his head feel wobbly.

"Hey!" Evangeline managed but she coughed violently.

But the goddess of misery was now fixated on Percy. He tried to retreat again. Unfortunately, the poison ichor was flowing all around him now, making the ground steam and the air burn.

Percy found himself stuck on an island of dust not much bigger than a shield. A few yards away, his backpack smoked and dissolved into a puddle of goo. Percy had nowhere to go.

He fell to one knee. He wanted to tell Evangeline to run, but he couldn't speak. His throat was as dry as dead leaves.

He wished there was water in Tartarus—some nice pool he could jump into to heal himself, or maybe a river he could control. He'd settle for a bottle of Evian.

"You will feed the eternal darkness," Akhlys said. "You will die in the arms of Night. Your little girlfriend will be my sacrifice!"

He felt his blood boil. The white-green poison kept pooling, little streams trickling from the plants as the venomous lake around him got wider and wider. Lake, he thought. Streams. Water.

Probably it was just his brain getting fried from poison fumes, but he croaked out a laugh. Poison was liquid. If it moved like water, it must be partially water.

He remembered some science lecture about the human body being mostly water. He remembered extracting water from Jason's lungs back in Rome before they fought the twin giants...If he could control that, then why not other liquids?

It was a crazy idea. Poseidon was the god of the sea, not of every liquid everywhere.

Then again, Tartarus had its own rules. Fire was drinkable. The ground was the body of a dark god. The air was acid, and demigods could be turned into smoky corpses.

So why not try? He had nothing left to lose. And there was no way he would let Akhlys sacrifice Evangeline.

He glared at the poison flood encroaching from all sides. He concentrated so hard that something inside him cracked—as if a crystal ball had shattered in his stomach.

Warmth flowed through him. The poison tide stopped.

The fumes blew away from him—back toward the goddess. The lake of poison rolled toward her in tiny waves and rivulets.

Akhlys shrieked. "What is this?"

"Poison," Percy said. "That's your specialty, right?"

He stood, his anger growing hotter in his gut. As the flood of venom rolled toward the goddess, the fumes began to make her cough. Her eyes watered even more.

Oh, good, Percy thought. More water.

The son of Poseidon imagined her nose and throat filling with her own tears.

Akhlys gagged. "I—" The tide of venom reached her feet, sizzling like droplets on a hot iron. She wailed and stumbled back.

"Percy?" Evangeline called.

She'd retreated from the edge of the cliff, even though the poison wasn't after her. She sounded shaken. It took him a moment to realize she was shocked.

"That's enough," She managed, her voice hoarse. "Stop..."

He didn't want to stop. He wanted to choke this goddess. He wanted to watch her drown in her own poison. He wanted to see just how much misery Misery could take.

"Percy, please stop!" Evangeline said. The look on her face made his anger fade.

He turned to the goddess. He willed the poison to recede, creating a small path of retreat along the edge of the cliff. "Leave!" He bellowed.

For an emaciated ghoul, Akhlys could run pretty fast when she wanted to. She scrambled along the path, fell on her face, and got up again, wailing as she sped into the dark.

As soon as she was gone, the pools of poison evaporated. The plants withered to dust and blew away.

Evangeline stumbled toward him. She looked like a corpse wreathed in smoke, but she felt solid enough when she grabbed his arms. Her skin was as cold as ice. Her blue eyes were glassy as she looked around.

"You—" She caught her breath. "Are you okay?"

His whole body tingled with power, but the anger was subsiding. The broken glass inside him was beginning to smooth at the edges. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay."

"We need to get away from this cliff," Evangeline whispered, that's when Percy realized her hands were shaking frantically and bleeding. "I need to get you out of here."

"Both of us need to get out of here, Evangeline." He told her. "You and me, remember?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide. "You're not listening. Akhlys was going to sacrifice us to her."

"What?" his eyebrows furrowed. "Her who?"

"It's—" The temperature dropped. The abyss before them seemed to exhale, and Evangeline's whole body went rigid.

A presence emerged from the void—a form so vast and shadowy, that he felt like he understood the concept of dark for the first time.

"I imagine," said the darkness, in a feminine voice as soft as coffin lining, "that she meant Night, with a capital N. After all, I am the only one."

He reached out to grab Evangeline, but something tugged her back and tossed her to the ground. She curled up, her hands clutching her ribs.

He ran to her, but it all happened so fast, he barely had time to register.

He felt a blade brush against his chest, cutting it. Red, hot, sticky blood coated his shirt. Another slash sent him to the ground, clutching his chest in pain.

"Quite the show you put on back there," said a new voice—a human voice. Percy blinked away the black spots in his vision and saw what had attacked them—who had attacked them.

Oliver raised his sword as he looked at Percy with disdain. "Too bad it's over,"

The last thing Percy saw was Oliver's sword.

------✧------

A/N: Double update-ish.

Dark Percy Jackson you will forever be famous.

Anyways drink water, goodnight! 🥰