A/N: Happy ending? What's a happy ending? I didn't know those things existed. =P
Chapter Twenty: Καλώς ήλθατε στον Τάρταρο (Welcome to Tartarus)
The girl pushing aside the door and stepped inside the gloomy recording studio. The technology was decrepit and ancient, obviously not in use. She paused for a second, before forging through the blackness towards the door on the other side of the studio. The door that practically glimmered with magic.
But a dark magic.
The kind magic you don't want to encounter.
Swallowing, the girl pushed open the door and stepped inside the main entrance to the Underworld. Charon, the ferryman, leaned against his desk, methodically counting gold drachmas. "Oi! Gate's closed for the night. If you died, come back in the morning."
The girl walked up to him, keeping a level face.
"Please don't tell me you're a godling," Charon whined, letting a few drachmas slip through his finger. He looked at the stack of coins and cursed. "You made me lose track!"
She just looked at him.
"Well?" Charon asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you going to pay or what?"
"I wish to visit Tartarus."
He started laughing, "That's rich!"
"I wish to visit Tartarus."
The ferryman kept laughing.
Swallowing, the girl restated herself, "I wish to visit Tartarus."
The laughter stopped and Charon stared at her, mouth open. "You're serious."
"I wish to visit Tartarus," said the girl.
Charon looked at her, silently wondering if she was touched in the head. "The rules have changed," he snapped, "no live ones."
"If I killed myself, would you take me to Tartarus?" The little girl asked, shifting a lock of hair behind her ear and subconsciously fingering the bright gold wire wrapped around her head. For the first time, she really looked around at the darkened room. She gazed into the eyes of over a hundred souls, but almost, practically exactly a hundred of them, looked like they knew where they were.
The girl swallowed. Those were the dead from the Battle of Camp Halfblood.
"Get in the ferry," Charon ordered, "and I'll take you to Tartarus."
"Thank you," the girl said. She pushed down a feeling of guilt. She could have done nothing for these souls. Nothing.
"Well," grumbled Charon, coming out from behind his desk, "hurry up then."
The girl followed him. Her stomach was a mass of nervous butterflies. Tartarus was calling her.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Ivy doubled over. She could just not keep going. Sam and Ian stopped beside her, panting.
In fact, the entire group skidded to a stop when Ivy stopped. And only Zoe and Percy had any fight left in them.
Jessie clutched healing arm. "That. Was. Nasty."
"Please tell me lost them," Kristen wheezed.
"We lost them," Percy stated, rhetorically.
Zoe was scoping the ground around them. "As long as no one got stung, then they should find other prey." She straightened and then walked in a circle around the panting group, her eyes darting here and there. "Catherine, bring her out."
"Who's Cath-" Sam started to ask, but then Mrs. O'Leary appeared with a much smaller canine trailing on her tail.
The ex-Hunter knelt and reached out to the wolf. Receiving permission, the gray and brown wolf bounded towards Zoe, tongue out and panting. The wolf gave Zoe a vicious licking, and then bounded to Kristen, Jessie and Ivy before sniffing hesitantly at the boys. "This is Zaire," Zoe said, "who took it upon herself to become my familiar. Zaire, I told you to stay with the pack."
Zaire thumped her tail over the ground. She sniffed Percy, paused for a second, and then pounced on him, barking more like a rambunctious puppy than a wolf. Percy tried to push the dog away from him, but Zaire persisted, giving him a healthy face liking.
Kristen and Sam collapsed in laughter.
Zoe lunged forward and grabbed her wolf by the scruff of the neck. "I told you! No jumping! You're the worst behaved wolf that I've ever seen."
If dogs could grin, Zaire said back on her haunches and grinned. Zoe crossed her arms and glared down at the dog.
Percy started laughing as well, "I've never had a dog take to me like that. They mostly avoid me."
"Normal dogs," Zoe grumbled, "don't like Poseidon. Zaire, Catherine, watch doggie." The two canines abruptly started circling the six half-bloods and Zoe. Then they settled down facing the outside, alert and aware. "They do fairly well with Artemis and the other gods and goddesses. Aphrodite hates all dogs but poodles. Sleep, everyone."
Ivy's knees buckled and she was asleep before she hit the ground. Ian and Sam weren't far behind.
"'M hungry," Kristen said, yawning.
"We'll get food in the morning," Jessie replied, stretching out on the ground and using her padded shield as a pillow.
"Was Mrs. O'Leary's first name really Catherine?" Percy asked, lying down a few feet away from the girls, closer to the watch dogs.
"Yes. Sleep now."
"G'night."
"'Night."
"Goodnight Percy."
"QUIET!" Zoe shrieked. She had all too much experience with 'goodnight's. "Now, or I will-"
"You're the only one talking," Percy pointed out.
There was silence.
OoOoOoOoOoO
"I. Am. Not. In. Shape."
Malcolm ground his teeth. That was the seventh time that Falcon had said that in the past hour. "We're going until midnight," he stated again, glancing down at his watch.
Falcon wheezed along behind him.
"You're breathing so loud, any monster could find us!" Malcolm said.
"Like what?" Falcon moaned, "Everything is probably sucking up to Nyx right now, begging to stay alive."
"And then they'll come to hunt down half bloods. Please be quiet."
Falcon was quiet, following in the older boy's footsteps for a time. "Are we there yet?"
"If you define 'there' as a dripping wet forest with me annoyed out of my mind, then yes," Malcolm snarled.
"There is wherever we're going," the son of Hermes stated.
"No idea," Malcolm plunged forward, not reallying paying attention to Falcon. It had seemed like a good idea to leave. But now, the son of Athena had started to second guess himself. What if they should have stayed? They didn't know if there were other survivors, or if was just them. Had anyone else gotten away from camp?
"Lost."
Both boys froze at the sudden word.
"I'm lost. Stupid Lord Jackson."
The voice was most certainly feminine, and Lord Jackson? The only Jackson they knew was Percy, and, maybe it was that Nereid... Falcon stepped on a stick.
"Who's there?" The voice demanded, sounding scared. "I'm armed. I'm warning you..."
"If we were monsters, we would have killed you," Malcolm stated.
"If you were monsters, you'd be dead," the voice, it sounded most certainly like a girl. That Nereid? Maira? The voice was slightly more confident now.
"Maira?"
"Who are you?" Maira demanded.
The three of them were still in the dark.
"Malcolm. Malcolm Eastcott. And Falcon Arjack. We escaped the camp-"
"Good for you," Maira sneered, "I'm over here."
The two boys worked their way over to her.
"Hang on a second," Falcon said. He fumbled around his pockets for a few minutes before pulling out a small Maglite flashlight. He flipped it on, accidentally straight into Maira's face. She flung her hands in front of her face. The light cast shadows on the trees around them as Falcon lowered the flashlight to the ground. "Sorry about that."
"That thing is evil," Maira said, pointing at the flashlight.
"It's just a torch," Falcon said, annoyed. Who was that girl anyways?
Malcolm sighed, "Did you see if anyone else made it away from camp?"
Maira shrugged, "Lord Jackson and the Sam Hubert kid are still alive. I'd know if they died."
"That's good," Malcolm sighed, relieved. Percy Jackson had made it out alive. There was hope for the universe. Good.
"Can we stop now?" Falcon asked. "I think we've found 'there'."
"Sleep is important," Maira stated. "We sleep for four hours and then we move."
"Who put you in charge?" Malcolm asked, in true curiosity.
Maira sniffed, "You're just demigods. I'm a Nereid. I outrank you."
And that was the first time that Malcolm noticed that he was purely mad. First time, ever, but this mad he didn't really have a reason. Besides for the fact that Maira was a uppity, selfish, stuck-up, full-of-herself, and several more not so polite names that reeled through Malcolm's head. He curled up to sleep, but the seeds of hate had been sown.
Falcon, on the other hand, thought that the Nereid who had taken command and let them sleep was the best thing since sliced bread. And then he feel asleep wondering what the best thing before sliced bread had been.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Ares gazed at the destruction of the camp with a pang of guilt in his heart. He pushed it away, reminding himself yet again that he did not fight his children's battles.
The camp was barely recognizable. The cabins were rubble. The Big House was utterly destroyed. Ares stood were Cabin Five, his cabin, once stood, but even the rubble barely remained. Something stabbed his foot as he turned to walk away, and the god bent down to yank a long shaft of wood from underneath a particularly chunky slab of rubble.
It was Clarisse's spear.
Ares stared at the spear, not rightfully knowing what he thought. He had felt her die, and she had always been one of his favorite kids, but at least she had died with honor, died fighting. That was good. With both hands, he applied opposite pressure on the stick and it shattered into pieces.
The god of war let the pieces drop at his feet. Clarisse was gone. Her spear didn't matter anymore. Nyx had given him a mission.
Ares straightened and ran through a few things in his head. Zoe Nightshade was his target. Before she died, the only possible living campers she would have had contact with were Nico Di Angelo and Percy Jackson. Tracking them down would be easiest from the parental unity, but everyone important knew that Maria Di Angelo was dead. That left Sally Jackson. And due to the unknown of the forty or so campers to have survived the fight, Ares didn't have any other leads.
He let the wind grab him and sling him into the mortal world of Manhattan.
He had a meeting with Sally Jackson.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Aether watched Nyx through heavily lidded eyebrows. She was a bit crazy, if you truly thought about it. And she had just recently developed an obsession with The Lord of the Rings.
"It's dark, and it's creepy," Nyx explained to the god of the upper air as the Ents marched to war. "And it's awesome. Viggo Mortensen is SO hot."
Aether flipped through the pages of his book, Eclipse, and sighed, "I never thought I'd hear you gushing about a mortal."
"Don't tell Erebus," Nyx said, laughing and focusing on her episode again. "You're obsessed with those books."
"I'm familiarizing myself with pop culture," Aether defending himself. He actually liked spending time with Nyx, contrary to what people normally thought. Everyone thought that he would prefer Herema, but Herema was so stiff, so dull, so locked in the way of the light. The upper air, the currents, the marvelous wind was always changing, always shifting. And that made Aether a bit unpredictable himself.
"Herema went to Cronos today," Nyx stated. She appeared completely focused on her TV.
"Oh?" Aether asked, raising an eyebrow.
Nyx paused the TV and turned to look at him full on. "They're plotting against me."
"Oh puh-lease," Aether said. "Pontos is plotting against you. It doesn't mean anything. It never does."
A Nesoi named Iceland stuck her head in the door, "Madame Nyx? Prometheus wishes to talk to you."
"Show him in," Nyx commanded.
A few minutes later, Prometheus was shown in the room. He was dressed in a black suit, with a white shirt and blue tie, hair slicked back. He carried a black briefcase and looked every bit the part of the uncomfortable business man.
Nyx paused the TV and looked at him, steepling her fingers under her chin. Aether had to resist a roll of his eyes at her antics. She thought power was SO cool. "Well," Nyx purred, "wha'da'ya' wan'?"
Prometheus swallowed, "Here are the preliminary plans." He handed Nyx the briefcase.
"Good, good, I'll review them and you come back tomorrow. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am." Prometheus stated. He spun on a dime and stalked from the room.
Aether looked at Nyx. "Are you seeing him tonight?"
Nyx shot him the evil eye and flicked the TV back on. "Don't be ridiculous! That would be like loving a concrete slab."
The god of the upper air laughed. And he didn't stop laughing for a long while.
OoOoOoOoOoO
"Have fun!" Charon cried, giving the girl a little shove in the back.
She screeched and clawed at thin air. The damage had been done. Charon had over balanced her and sent her flying down into Tartarus. As she fell, she reminded herself again and again and again. She wanted to be down in Tartarus. She needed to be down in Tartarus. It was necessary that she go down into Tartarus. She had to recover the scythe before Nyx learned about it.
The girl was still falling.
She was falling, until, surprise beyond surprise, she hit the sandy dune.
Unarmed besides for shocked and a little bruised, she stood and looked around. Sunlight pounded on her eyes and she raised a hand to shade her face.
This was not exactly what she had been expecting, but then with Greek stuff, nothing really was what anyone expected it to be. Being immortal warps peoples brains and turns them crazy. But as the girl looked around, she decided this was most certainly the strangest thing she had ever seen.
It was most certainly a beach. And there was water, and, and, and other people. In TARTARUS. The worst prison in the world. The prison the girl had just checked herself into. TARTARUS. And people were laughing. Normal, human people. They splashed and played in the beach. Children dashed among the adults, shrieking with laughter and playing tag. It did not make sense.
"It isss an illusssion you know," said a hissing voice.
The girl looked around, and saw a serpent on the sand below her. Bending down, she picked up the snake and brought it too eye level. "The beach?"
"The world," hissed the snake. It was smallish, no longer than three feet, and royal blue scales with a few white scales almost forming stars down the body. "Isss the illusssion."
"Oh," said the girl, half creeped out. "And Tartarus?"
"It isss real," said the snake, "the only real thing you'll ever sssee."
"I need to find Kronos's scythe," said the girl, softly.
"I can be your guide," the snake offered, "but for a price."
The girl swallowed, "what must I do?"
"I want a... a... a name." The snake sounded very lonely. Beyond lonely.
"You don't have a name?" The girl asked, questioningly.
The snake slithered around her hands, almost like he was nervous. "My name was taken from me, yearsss ago, by Ananke herssself. And no one has bothered to give me a new one."
"I'm sorry," the girl said, rubbing the snakes head like one would rub a dog's ears. The nameless snake purred like a cat.
"Name?"
"Soren?"
The snake shook his head.
"Nagini?"
"No."
"Rodger. Markus. Spot. Scaly." The girl started listing names, but all of them were turned down. "Washington. Adams. Jefferson. Madison. Monroe. Quincy." She would pick one thread of names, then switch to another. "Oregon. Ohio. Connecticut. Mississippi. Louisiana. Texas."
"Missssssissssssippi?" The snake hissed, a laugh in his voice.
"What do you think?" The girl asked.
"It isss good," the snake, Mississippi, said, smirking. "And what isss your name?"
"I'm Amelia."
"Good name," Mississippi said. "Well, Amelia, welcome to Tartarus."
The beach around them disappeared.
Amelia screamed.