Sometime later, I'm standing over an embankment, looking with a longing stare toward the entrance of the Caves. The glow still emanates from them and the Hell-Fire's warmth soothes my aching muscles. I step downward, ready to walk the fifty or so yards to the massive entrance.

I hear a loud grunt and I turn, looking over to my right. An older looking man with similar rags to my own reaches a frail hand upward. A few inches away from his grasp sits the reddest, fullest apple I have ever seen. He reaches for the apple, the branch that the fruit hangs from rises, and he catches nothing but air. He swears loudly, and stamps his feet in the puddle of water below him. When quickly dives to the ground for a drink, the puddle of water vanishes until there's nothing but dry rock. I watch him slam his fist onto the ground in pitiful anger.

"Tantalus," I greet him. He looks up at me with weary eyes. Then his dry lips curl into a thin smile.

"King Tantalus."

"My bad. King Tantalus."

"Yes, I was a King once." Then his smile vanishes, and he looks longingly at the dried depression where the pond once was. "But now…now I'm chained and tortured for all of time. Now, I'm no better than a slave."

I don't know exactly what it was that got King Tantalus sent here. Yet it doesn't matter what he did while he was alive. There is nothing you could possibly do that should get you an eternity of continuous torment.

"Hey, boy," he says quickly, standing to his feet. I watch as the water rises through the cracks in the ground and fills in the depression around his feet. "Could you maybe give me a hand?"

"You've asked me that before, Tantalus."

"King Tantalus. Yes, I was a king once. Did you know that, my boy?"

"Yes, I know."

"You do? Tell me, my boy, I know you from somewhere don't I? Possibly you were there in Anatolia during my rule? In the kingdom of Tantalis? They named that place after me, you know. Maybe you were there. Maybe you once knew my son…? His name was Pelops. Fine boy….the Gods didn't much like the taste of him though…"

"What?"

"It was only that women…who was she. The one with the daughter who chose the absolute worse men ever. I mean, who chooses to date the God of the Underworld in the first place?"

"Are you talking about Persephone?"

"Ah! That was here name was it not? And what of her mother? Danica…Danielle…Demi…"

"Demeter?"

"Yes! That's it, my boy! It was Demeter who chose to eat when I presented Pelops to the Gods! Only she could appreciate the amount of work I put into that meal."

"You…you made your son…into a meal?"

And for once in my life, I can almost see why the Olympians would send a man to this place. Almost.

He places his forefinger on his beard in a thoughtful manner. "Speaking of food…"

He jumps up for the red apple, but the tree simply pulls the branch away and the not so mighty king slumps his shoulders in defeat.

"Go along, my boy. There is no entertainment in seeing a belittled man."

I turn to walk away. "Goodbye, King Tantalus."

"King…," he spits out. "Yes…I was a king once."

I leave King Tantalus to his melancholy and descend into the embankment. The soles of my feet have been calloused over for as long as I can remember, so the small chunks of jagged stone that layer the ground of the embankment barely tickle my toes. I wonder if this is how sand on a beach feels. Is it hot? Warm? Shift so easily at your slightest movement?

I'll visit a beach sometime in the future.

Yea, that's what I'll do once I kill Percy Jackson.

The heat of the Caves intensifies as I get closer to them. Other Demi-Titans would be writhing on the ground as their skin slowly but surely became kindling for the. I feel my body start to heat up sure, and I'm almost certain that that glow is not only coming from the Phlethegon, but I welcome the heat. A comforting sensation in my injured arm causes my eyes to wander to the fresh wound. A smile spreads across my face as I see the cut slowly begin to mend itself.

This is the power of the Phlethegon and its Hell-Fire. They're a mimic of the Sun's power. Children of Hyperion and Helios are able to gain strength and health from the Hell-Fire, yes. But the river is limited by the barrier known as the Caves, so we are all held back from our true power. Some say it's a good thing that children of the previous Sun Titans do not have the full power of the Sun itself at their fingertips. They say that exposing us to the actual Sun which Apollo sits on would give us too much power; too much potential. The same is with the Children of Oceanus, who have never seen the open sea.

But I say that those people are wrong. I say that the Sun was my father's; my father was the Sun. What's ours will always be ours. That power, the eternally blazing fires that cover the Sun, is ours.

Every cursed soul who lives in Tartarus is angry, bitter. We all have venomous rage coursing through us. It is because of those Olympians; those hypocrites, those thieves. They've destroyed every single one of us on Earth and condemned us to a world where escape is about as rare as fresh water. Living here has made our dreams and nightmares one in the same. Because I have dreams of killing people, and I have nightmares of people being killed.

We Demi-Titans are somewhat able to control our anger because of the human blood running through our veins. But we were still born in Tartarus, not on Earth. And Tartarus thrives through the bitterness of its inhabitants. My mother bore me in these very Caves. The pain was excruciating, as it is with every Titan child. I've heard that every Titan born child is cursed, because our human parent always ends up dead shortly after our birth.

So I'm cursed.

And because of that the Phlethegon over flooded when I was born.

And my mother is dead because of it. Because of me.

Because of the Olympians.

My hands clench in a moment of pure rage. Beyond the Caves, a series of roars shake the very air. They follow one after the other, and I'm sure even my father in the Pit can hear their cries. It's the two Hekatonkheires; the Hundred Handed ones, who cry out in rage and sorrow for their brother, Briares.

I don't much care for Cottus and Gyges, considering that they threw mountains down at the Titans during the First Titan War. But their roar is so loud, so profound, that I can't help but understand their pain.

The light is everywhere within the Caves. It bounces of the stone as if it were mere glass. In the rare occasion that I can actually see a shadow, it dances like a satyr who is drunk with wine and has finally captured his tree nymph. I notice immediately that there is something terribly wrong when you're able to compare a shadow in Tartarus to a dancing satyr. The shadows are alive in this place, and they are glad to see me.

The Cave has many turns on its inside before you're able to reach the Hell-Fire. But the light is able to travel across the rare stones that align the sides. Every time I turn, I expect to see the churning fires of the river. Though, instead of feeling the fatigue of battling in the Arena and traveling to the Caves, I begin to feel more and more energy coursing through me as I get closer. It feels good, the growing power within me.

My legs begin to move on their own as the soothing feel of the heat turns to hunger. I walk faster, my mind and soul no longer searching for the river, but searching for power. I feel my insides begin to heat up, causing a bright light to shine through my skin. It's the blood of Hyperion flowing through me that pulls me to the river. I think of diving in, letting the flames envelope me; drown me in their awesome power.

Then I think of the Caves blocking the full power of the Phlethegon, the power of the Sun, from me.

And I want to explode, taking Tartarus and the Caves and the Pit holding my father and Percy Jackson along with me.

Lazarus.

The Signature of Hyperion, a crudely drawn Sun with rays escaping from its sides, burns into the flesh on my back.

Lazarus, the Titan Hyperion says in a voice like the crackle of a fire. The signature lights my back on fire once again.

"Dad?"

I turn a corner and stare straight ahead, half expecting to see my father standing there before me. But all that I see is the bright light that signifies the chasm that the Phlethegon courses through.

"Dad?" I call out again.

He doesn't respond. Even from the Pit he is able to reach into my mind and make the scar on my back light on fire in pain. I walk forward, the sound of my father's voice and the rush of the Phlethegon moving my body for me. I remember that I have to be somewhere. I have to do something.

I'm supposed to go with Sasha and see…who?

I'm supposed to kill…

Lazarus.

I stop and find myself standing inches away from the edge of the great chasm. I look down at the river with fire in my eyes. My skin glows with a violent bright light.

And my father speaks again.

Explode.

Explode?

Explode. And take it all with you.

All of it?

All of it.

Even Percy Jackson? Even the Olympians?

Explode, and destroy them all.

"Explode," I moan.

Explode, my son.

I smile with satisfaction as the world around me turns to white.