November 12th, 2011
Her own face stared back at her. A mirror image, in appearance only.
"Report," Nyx ordered, without preamble. "How goes the liberation of my physical form from its earthly prisons?"
Her copy nodded mechanically. "All goes well," it responded. "The journey suffered a delay after a minor...incident, but we were able to resume travel shortly after. Nothing significant, of course, but I still felt as though you should be informed."
"Incident?" Nyx inquired, frowning. That sounded worrying.
The pale imitation smiled lightly in reassurance. Nyx had never seen a more unsettling expression on her own face. That couldn't have been how she looked while smiling, was it? "The issue was minor," her copy explained. "And I do mean minor. Nothing that would require your personal intervention or attention. Our response when encountering it was swift enough."
Nyx nodded. Fair enough. "And the boy?" she queried, thinking of other matters. "What of Perseus? I wish to know how my...champion is handling things."
Abandoning all one knew in the pursuit of vengeance was a truly grave affair. A black path through the darkness of the night. She was no expert on the human psychology, but even the blind, deaf, and dumb could ascertain what came of those who followed down such a road. It had been his choice, true, but sometimes the most harmful of decisions were made by one's own hand. By accepting her offer of freedom, Perseus had ascended from a mere tool to an associate, or partner, if she was to be so bold. The boy had gained her respect and concern and it was time Nyx started treating him with such. Bestowing him an official title, even one as archaic as "champion", was the first step of many in doing just that.
She turned her expectant gaze back onto her copy, wondering why it hadn't spoken yet. The thing looked uneasy and hesitant, almost like it was concerned for something or someone. As Nyx peered closer, she could also spot a hint of something else on its face. Something that looked like a cross between worry and the aforementioned fear—for itself, or perhaps something else.
Preposterous.
"Well? Out with it," Nyx beckoned, patience waning.
The copy closed its eyes and sighed before speaking. "If I may," it started. "Is it truly wise to put such a great amount of trust in Perseus?"
Nyx gazed at the clone dispassionately. "I mean to say that the boy is callow and emotional," the imitation hastened to elaborate. "Prone to moments of weakness, as evidenced by recent developments. I would think a man so delicate is hardly a worthy candidate for this sort of undertaking."
Nyx narrowed her eyes. There it was. Another indication that her work had been flawed. That this abomination was not her in the slightest. If it was, then the answer would have already been evident.
Still, Nyx would indulge the question for now. "Trust is for fools," she rectified her clone's assumption. "It is a weak foundation that crumbles like sand under the slightest pressure. I do not trust Perseus, and he would be an imbecile to trust me. But, mutual self-interest and respect for one another? That is the solid bedrock upon which we as individuals can reach an understanding. Kindred spirits, of sorts. I am not so effete as to trust the word of a mortal."
Her copy looked down at, thoughtful. After a time, it raised its head to answer her earlier question. "Perseus is well," it admitted slowly, too slow for her liking, but she let it slide. "Bent, but not broken. I believe he will emerge stronger after the incident I mentioned previously."
Nyx nodded. "He may be a child in both mind and body, but he is strong. The strongest of his generation and I would not have chosen him if he wasn't. Have faith in my decisions before you begin to question them," she said.
The son of Poseidon could handle the burden. Of that, she was sure. And if for some reason he couldn't, then there would always be another to follow in his footsteps. Another hateful, lost soul in search of justification for their existence. Perhaps not soon, and maybe not a child of the gods, but it would happen. Until the end of time, there would always be another. She would simply have to exercise patience.
Nyx turned away from her vessel and grew silent, delving into a bout of plotting and scheming that would make even the most grizzled of commanders envious. The plan was proceeding smoothly enough so far. That was good, though, she was starting to have doubts about keeping such a loose bond with Perseus. Loyalty earned through respect and admiration was far and away superior to that earned by fear. The latter was temporary, vanishing the moment you lost the ability to instill that feeling within those weaker—as evidenced by Zeus. The former however, was eternal and would be so long as she repaid it in kind. The proposition to do so was tempting.
Not yet, Nyx thought. She would still need more proof of Perseus' devotion to her and the cause before taking such a bold action. If she did not proceed carefully, more than a millennia's worth of planning would come crashing down before her eyes. It was blind trust, after all, that had her cast down to Tartarus and robbed of her physical form.
"On the topic of allies," Nyx said, rousing from her reverie. "Well done in swaying the god of the sea to our cause, I must say. That was a foe I was sure would remain stalwart in his support of Olympus. And Hercules? Excellent work."
The clone bowed its head slightly at the praise.
"Now, I have devised a list of more potential candidates ready for consideration in my Mind's Eye," Nyx continued. When the time is right, I will send you to extend an offer of invitation they cannot hope to refuse. After all, the proposition of exaltation is a temptation no child of Gaea can resist."
Her copy nodded its assent. Nyx smiled, pleased, and waved her hand. "Go now," she bade, beginning to terminate the signal's connection. "Free me and remove that decadent fool from his seat of Pyrite. Do not fail me."
The signal faded into wisps of darkness and Nyx was once more left to brood in the silence of her father's domain.
It wouldn't be long now.
November 14th, 2011
Invitra tried not to wince as another one of the enslaved was beaten within an inch of its life.
Her face was impassive, betraying no emotion, as she stared straight ahead into the frigid white expanse of the frozen land. She had learned long ago that compassion and kindness in this place would do her no favors, and would instead be taken for weakness. Keeping her head low and trying to appear as unremarkable as possible was a survivor's way of living.
Still, it was difficult to concentrate on her thoughts over the din of torture. Tilting her head ever so slightly, Invitra saw that it was a Telekhine that had received the honor of being given such treatment. It screamed loud—so painfully loud—and began matching in tune with the sharp cacophony of the Celestial Bronze wip as the thing tore at the flesh of its back. Both sounds soon grew synonymous and indistinct from each other. Invitra idly wondered how a single pair of lungs could produce something so deafening.
A strike of the wip, harder than others before it, caused even her to flinch involuntarily. "Shaddap!" The Torturer spat, bringing his wip down again. The Telekhine obeyed, if only just, as its shrill cries faded into dull whimpers. For that, Invitra was thankful.
The decreased volume of The Torturer's amusement allowed her to think a bit more clearly. Invitra tuned out the noise and withdrew into herself. Yet another day of confinement in this dreadful place with these dreadful monsters. How long had it been since she was separated from her sister? Centuries? Millennia? Was the duration as long as she'd been alive, or perhaps longer? Had she even had a sister in the first place?
Questions for the ages.
Invitra rose from her thoughts as she heard the whimpering cease. She didn't dare turn her head, but knew of the Telekhine's fate all the same. It was dead.
"Ah," The Torturer sang gleefully. "Too soon, too soon. This one fled too soon."
Thunderous footsteps began to approach in her direction. They continued, not stopping despite there being tens of monsters standing between her and The Torturer. Invitra's breath quickened in the face of her impending doom as visions began to fill her mind. Visions of her beaten, broken body being sent back to Tartarus, awaking only to experience the same torment again, but under a different hand. She would wander for what felt like decades, reaching the Doors Of Death, only to find them closed and a line as far as the horizon in front of her. Then, when it was finally her turn for a chance at freedom, she would step through the Doors and discover that she had been returned to the very place she'd left behind, forever tethered by some unseen shackle. There was no escape from the madness and Invitra would've laughed, had she any sanity left.
The footsteps were directly behind her now. Invitra shivered as she felt the Torturer's scalding breath seep its way down her spine, a crackle of metal signaling that it was too late and that she was next.
"Stop!" a voice from the side called out hastily. Invitra recognized it as the leader of their encampment. "Surely you've had enough this week? You'll kill them all at this rate."
Invitra heard what sounded like a pout. "Don't wanna," The Torturer whined like a petulant child. "That one fled too soon, and I've not yet had my fill."
The leader—a short little thing belonging to a long-forgotten species of monsters—sighed. "But you want to eat right?" he questioned The Torturer. A period of silence. "That's right. All of us do. But we can't if you keep killing the food—which, by the way, takes years to return. Dust doesn't taste very good, you'll find. I bet it isn't very nutritious either."
Another whine. "Torturing is good for the soul," The Torturer groused. "Relaxes the mind and body. Takes away stress. No torturing on this job is crazy boring."
"Can't help it," the leader seemed to shrug. "We have our task: keep watch of this place until the Earth Mother instructs otherwise, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Now, if you want to feel her wrath personally, be my guest, I won't stop you. But don't come crawling back when she sends one of her sons to do some torturing of their own. Or casts you into the pit—permanently."
" "
"That's what I thought," the leader stated smugly. "I don't think anyone could leave this place to begin with. We're all tethered here—the food, us—everyone is cursed to return until our sentence is up, whenever that is. Now, quit playing with the food and join a game of cards, will you? I want another round after that cheat you pulled last time."
The Torturer laughed heartily, like nails scraping on cheap glass. An awful sound. "All was fair," it said. "But I will take my millionth win in defense of my honor."
The leader snorted. "I'll win this time, I swear it," he promised, an audible grin in his voice.
The pair laughed together, retreating deeper into the encampment, until eventually the sound of the wind drowned out their voices. At that, Invitra silently let out the breath she'd been holding all this time. Despite having experienced several lifetimes of torture, the process never seemed to grow old and always felt fresh each time—no thanks to The Torturer's relentless thirst for new ways of amusement. And after her hundredth time of death and subsequent return to this place, Invitra had begun to wonder if the experience was all in her head: the product of some god experimenting with new, deadly forms of magic. No reality could possibly remain so cruel for this long.
Invitra wiped her eyes and sighed, collapsing to her knees. Her latest dance with death had drained her body and spirit of all its luster, not that she'd had much to begin with. The appeal of sleep grew more alluring by the second and it wasn't like there was anything else to do besides stare at the walls.
Invitra closed her eyes and dreamt of a faceless sister and a life different from her own.
November 15th, 2011
Percy stared straight ahead at the wooden walls of the cabin below deck, unseeing and unfeeling. He was tired, deathly so, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. Wouldn't let him forget. It kept playing him the memory of that day, the sweet lullaby of death.
Now he was truly a monster.
A low rumble echoed throughout the room. Percy looked down at himself. He should've probably eaten something. The last time he had food was...the previous night. Or the one before that, he couldn't remember. But every time he tried, the faces of those he'd led to eternity haunted him. How could he sleep and eat soundly after that? After so many innocent lives had been lost for no reason? He couldn't.
Percy turned his head to peer out of the window. It was midnight out; pitch-black darkness save for a sea of stars that illuminated the horizon. The view was beautiful, really, now that he thought about it. The streets of New York never had anything like it when he'd been growing up, and certainly not now, with the pollution and population being worse than it was then. It was nice to look up and see the universe in all its glory, instead of just a formless blob of light and clouds and smoke.
The fact that it was dark out also made him wonder whether Nyx was watching him at that very moment. Watching him unravel at the seams, desperately trying to cling onto the one thing that kept him human. Kept him sane. Percy laughed lowly. She probably was watching—and laughing—at his torment. The ever-paranoid mastermind. Percy bet she spied on him whenever he'd shower, or sleep, or did anything else at night. Just to make sure that her precious "freedom" wasn't in jeopardy and keep him under control. He snorted. Like he would betray her now, after coming this far.
Percy sighed, thoughts drifting inevitably back onto the topic of his distress. That one word kept replaying in his mind. He had been called a lot of things over the course of his short life. A troublemaker, a demigod, "seaweed brain", even. But never had he been a murderer. A killer in cold blood. Now it was just another title he could add to the ever-growing list.
While the words of Amethis plagued him days after her death, Percy could care less about the bitch herself. After what she'd done: torturing him for the sake of some petty revenge and wasting the chance he'd given her to lead a better life, she could rot in Tartarus for all he cared.
But she didn't have to take all those people with her.
No, who was he kidding? Stygian Iron absorbed and destroyed souls. It wasn't like Celestial Bronze. There would be no Elysium for the people he and Cinder had killed. No fate after death at all. Just nothingness. And who knew? They might've been good people before Amethis had gotten ahold of them. People whose actions made the world a better place. They might've had families to return to. And he had taken that from them. All of their hopes, dreams, lives—gone. All because of him.
A wave of nausea cascaded over him. Percy hunched over, struggling to fight the bile rising in his throat. He already had too little in his stomach. It wouldn't be good to throw that up as well.
The door creaked open. Only one person was on the ship other than him. Cinder made a small noise of greeting in the back of her throat as she stood at the entrance.
"You should be resting," she chided, disappointment evident in her voice. She crossed the distance and knelt in front of him. "We make landfall in the morning. I need you prepared to brave whatever defenses Gaea has set out for us. You cannot do that if you fall asleep mid-battle."
Percy waved her away. "I'll be fine," he argued. "I once fought a hundred monsters while running on no sleep for two days. I think I can handle a few ogres."
Cinder exhaled through her nose and shook her head. "That isn't the point," she said. "You are valuable. Too valuable to be lost in a squabble with my father's children. You need rest and that's the end of it."
Percy's head snapped up, suddenly angry. "Didn't seem that with Amethis," he muttered quietly under his breath.
Cinder quirked her head, not hearing him.
"I meant," Percy spoke a bit louder. "That I didn't seem to matter too much when we killed all those people. It was either your way or nothing, instead of trying to find an option that didn't result in killing people."
The accusation made Cinder freeze for a fraction of a second, before a look of realization crossed her face. "Oh, that," she said casually. As if it meant nothing. "We've been over this. There is nothing else you could have done to avoid casualty. The death of those humans was inevitable."
Percy growled. "That may be true, but why don't you feel anything?" he bit out. "Aren't you human, too? Or close to it? Shouldn't you feel something after killing innocent people?"
Cinder stared at with a blank, puzzled look. Like empathy and compassion weren't in her programming. Like she was just a machine. "Why would I?" she questioned with a frown. "They attacked us—free will aside—and left us with no other choice. Furthermore, they were obstacles in the way of our goal—I simply removed them from the equation."
Percy gaped openly at her, not believing what he'd just heard. He clenched his fists so hard it felt like his knuckles were going to pop. "You heartless bitch," he snarled, anger burning a hole in his throat. "They—you! I can't believe this."
Cinder rose to a standing position and folded her arms, favoring him with a look between concern and disappointment. "Believe what you will," she said. "I recall that I—or rather Nyx—told you once that nothing would be allowed to step in the way of my freedom. Nothing, Perseus. I also recall that you swore on the Styx to aid me in doing this. Or have you forgotten?"
Percy looked down at his feet angrily, feeling helpless again. He hadn't forgotten. Every day he was reminded of one of the worst mistakes of his life.
Still, if he was going to go through with this, did he really need Cinder? If what she'd said was right, the ship would be making landfall in only a few short hours. After that, it was only a matter of fighting off whatever defense Gaea had set up and finding out how to free Nyx himself. How hard could that be?
Yes, Percy thought as his hand began to twitch. A sixth sense appearing in his mind's eye. He didn't need her. Surely Nyx wouldn't care if he killed her faulty creation right now? It was just taking out the trash; removing a part that didn't work right. Without Cinder, things would be better. They would work out, they always did.
Without her, no more innocent blood would be spilled.
Cinder apparently caught on to his thought process. She took a few steps away from him and tensed dangerously, ready to fight. "I wouldn't do that," Cinder warned smoothly, staring him right in the eyes. "Not only is the way to reach the Sphere of Darkness complicated, too complicated for a mere mortal to comprehend, but I am your only way of establishing contact with The Night. Without me, Nyx is blind, deaf, and ignorant of the world during the day. And that simply won't do."
Percy didn't care. He began calling on the water in Cinder's body, sapping it away gradually. Cinder let out a pained gasp and fell to her knees. "Think about what you are doing!" she gasped. "Without me, this journey is finished! You will never obtain vengeance—Zeus will kill anyone and everyone you hold dear, until there is nothing left in the end! Nothing except him!"
That did it. Percy unclenched his fist and sighed, freeing her from his grasp. Cinder collapsed to the floor, breathing coming in hurried gasps as she recovered from dying. Percy cradled his head in his hands and hid his eyes from the world. He felt like crying. Or curling up into a ball and forgetting that everything existed. Cinder was right. He did need her. Without her and Nyx, Zeus would be free to do as he pleased, killing everyone he cared about just for discovering his secrets. Percy had no hope of beating him alone.
Still, that didn't mean he was just going to roll over and accept it. "Leave me," Percy asked—demanded hoarsely. "I...need to think on some things."
Cinder rose to her feet gradually, face twisted in pain, and made her way to the door. She paused just before it and called over her shoulder.
"It is better to do one thing wholeheartedly than it is to do two things inadequately," Cinder advised sagely. "I pray you choose to do the former rather than the latter."
With that, she crossed the threshold and left him with only his thoughts.
Invitra woke to the screams of the dying.
She was on her feet and alert in an instant. Centuries of torturing had taught her to be vigilant, especially when in the presence of others. It was only after realizing that she personally wasn't under attack, did she move.
The scene that met her eyes was utter chaos.
Tents had been crushed and tattered, their occupants laying strewn about the camp—what was left of them, at least. The ground beneath her feet was more golden dust than snow. Or a disgusting mix of both.
A pained howl echoed over the wind, carrying from some distance away. A quick glance toward the other prisoners revealed that they had heard it too, and that this was no mere illusion or dream. Invitra turned her head and gasped as she saw The Torturer lying on its knees, brought low and trembling by something unseen. Peering at its visage from the safety of distance, Invitra nearly gagged at the thing's ugliness. She had never looked up to see its face—but now, after all these years, she wished she'd kept her gaze on the ground a bit longer.
The creature was a macabre mix of something vile, with arms twice the length of its legs, and a torso that was just a blob of grey flesh—seemingly serving as the focal point for the rest of its body. Its face—or lack of one—was an amalgamation of misplaced body parts. Nose where its eyes should've been, one eye on opposite sides of its head. And a set of incisors behind four lips lying in the center of it all.
How had Typhon and his bride birthed something so abominable?
More astonishing, though, was the something—someone—that was responsible for it all. The figure above The Torturer, now revealed to be a man, a mortal man here of all places, clenched his fist. The torture in pain and fell over, weeping blood from every pore, before falling still. In moments, it was dead.
Unbelievable.
Invitra sniffed the air in an effort to glean information from it. Demigod, she pieced together. A son of Poseidon, to be exact. The scent of salty water and the sea breeze were telltale signs. But more than that, was the aura of power that could only belong to one of the Big Three. The demigod radiated sheer presence like no other she had ever felt before.
The son of Poseidon jogged forward lazily, ten monsters surrounding him, a lopsided, boyish grin on his face. Invitra watched as he casually leaned out of the way of a sword slash and disarmed the owner—literally. He then spun on his heel and impaled a monster through the chest as it lunged at his back before darting forward, unnaturally quick, and beheading two or three more monsters before she could even blink. With his free hand, he began to call upon his birthright. The snow beneath his boots liquefied and was drawn upwards toward the demigod's outstretched fingers. From them, a beam of water shot forward and rived another few monsters at the waist. Their bodies dropped like a sack of potatoes, flesh withering and fading into dust. Then, only one remained.
The lone monster peered around and gulped audibly in fear. A second later, it roared a battle cry and threw itself forward, hoping for at least a modicum of vengeance for its fallen comrades. It got a single good punch in before it was subsequently dismantled with ease. Then, a wave of silence cascaded over the battlefield.
He had to have been a demon from another pantheon, Invitra thought. Or blessed by one. The son of Poseidon was born to end the lives of monsters, of that she was sure. Invitra swallowed thickly at that thought. And it looked like they were next, judging from the dwindling number of monsters with the desire to fight. Invitra turned to a pair of ogres—burly brutes—who had been trying to force the chains that fettered them all open with their bare arms. "How's it coming?" she asked, patience wearing thin at their slowness. "Can you open them?"
The ogres grunted simultaneously. "Trying," one said, face twisted in effort. "Bars aren't light. Weak from hunger."
"Well try harder," Invitra hissed urgently. Couldn't these fools do anything right? What good was all that muscle if one had no brains to use it? Tartarus below, even humans weren't so useless.
Invitra turned to look back at the slaughter. A scream of terror rang out briefly before it was caught in its owner's throat and turned into a gurgling death rattle. She saw a flash of black hair, followed by a tendril of darkness as a woman cut down her captors like pigs in a slaughterhouse. Invitra took the time to study the new arrival. Another demigod from the smell of it, though not as powerful as the man. And one who could apparently manipulate the darkness as if it were a tangible thing. Very strange.
The list of deities who lorded over the darkness was short—even then only a few could use it as a weapon. And of that few, none of them showed any interest whatsoever in having mortal children, from what she knew. Perhaps something had changed? Or had a new player entered the game?
The woman's arms moved, and the tendrils of darkness mirrored her, almost like an extra set of limbs. They were hard at work, swatting away monsters like flies, and crushing others that had gotten too close. A monster of a species she'd forgotten the name of, a mix between a goat and a horse, cried out in fright as it was caught in one of them. Its terror was only momentary though as seconds later, the tendril squeezed, and the monster was crushed to a pulp and juiced of its bodily fluids. Its broken remains fell soundlessly into the snow before disintegrating into dust. Others met a similar, if kinder fate, and Invitra had to wonder when it would be her turn. Waiting to die a painful death only to be reborn to experience it all again was agonizing.
Invitra turned her head slightly and spotted the leader of their encampment trying to flee quietly amidst the chaos. He only got a few steps before receiving a spear through his chest by a Telekhine who apparently didn't like deserters. He collapsed face-first in the snow and died pitifully, like the coward he was.
Another period of silence eclipsed the land, only this time the battle was all but over. The fighting had lulled as the remaining monsters either ran toward the hills or laid down their weapons in surrender.
In the distance, Invitra saw the man chasing down a few monsters that had tried to flee with a slight upturn on his lips. As if the bloodshed was merely an afternoon of fun. And the woman wasn't exempt either, executing the kneeling monsters without a second thought—offering not even a shred of mercy. Then, when the pair was finished, their gazes turned on the prisoners.
The woman looked down on them all with cold eyes, empty like the abyss. Invitra doubted there was any compassion in a soul like that one. Angry footsteps crunched the snow beneath as the male approached, looking entirely displeased with something or someone. He stalked up to the woman and stopped just before her, a hair's breadth away, and stared.
This close, Invitra couldn't help but take notice of something odd about the man's scent. It wasn't the smell of a normal son of Poseidon. It was different, akin to that of a human, a god, and...and one of her own all at once. A blend of everything, it seemed. Invitra wrinkled her nose in disgust. That combination could've only meant one thing: a monster and a child of the gods had bred with one another. She'd only heard whispers about the act, but to see one of those abhorrent hybrids in the flesh sent shivers of disgust crawling down her spine.
"What was that?" the man demanded, finally breaking his silence. His eyes were alight with righteous fury. "Those powers—the things you shot from your hands—what the hell was that?"
The woman regarded him impassively, defiantly, as she said nothing and waited.
The man growled at her refusal to answer. "Why hide something like that from me?" he questioned thunderously. "It would've been helpful against Amethis, hell even before then!"
The woman sighed heavily. "We've discussed this before," she said, annoyed.
"Still," The man groused. "I didn't know you could do all that. If you had told me in the beginning, maybe I wouldn't have had to kill—"
"—It was an oversight, yes," the woman interrupted unapologetically. "And a regrettable one at that. But is this really the time to bicker about mistakes of the past?" The woman flicked her head in Invitra's direction. "We have more pressing issues to attend to."
Invitra flinched as the man turned his gaze upon her. Truthfully, the verdant green eyes of her would-be savior frightened her a little. It had been a long, long time since she experienced the stare of one so powerful. And she couldn't forget how he'd killed those of her kind either. No, she amended. How he'd butchered them. It almost seemed like there was a method behind the madness; some other motivation besides pure survival or instinct. Like he'd been wronged somehow and wanted to strike back at anything and everything he could, damn the consequences. Those were the kind of warriors that frightened her the most.
The man approached them casually and withdrew his sword, eliciting gasps of fear from the prisoners. With one unseen movement, his wrist moved, and Invitra braced herself for the pain, until the prison bars rattled and then broke like glass.
Invitra gaped openly at the split bonds and then back at her savior. Metal that had taken almost an eternity of constant applied force to wither away even the slightest bit had been reduced to dust at the mere flick of his wrist. Just who was this man?
The demigod beamed down at them. It was a fake smile—she could tell—because it didn't reach his eyes.
"Don't worry," the knave man assured softly. "I won't hurt you."
Invitra didn't trust it. She knew better than that. Demigods and monsters were mortal enemies, sworn to kill each other until the bitter end. The notion that one would help the other was asinine and she had seen the look in the demigod's eyes. On his face. He had enjoyed the slaughter, had enjoyed killing those unwilling or too weak to fight back. They were slavers, yes, but out of necessity and fear of retribution. Vile and horrid as they might have been, they were still her own kind. No man of benevolence took pleasure out of ending those beneath him.
One captor though—a Telekhine—apparently didn't know better. He collapsed to the ground in a heap of tears and gratitude. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, Thank you—"
"In fact, I'll do you one better," The man called, raising his hand aloft. A dreadful feeling began to fill the air.
The Telekhine ceased his groveling and stared up in confusion, not understanding his meaning. Invitra saw the corners of the man's mouth tug upwards ever so slightly, making her stomach churn as he spoke his next words.
"I'll free you from your suffering."
The monster's face fell at the chilling proclamation. He opened his mouth to scream, but didn't even get the chance before his body exploded into a cloud of fine, watery-gold mist.
For a moment, no one moved. No one even breathed.
Then, it was chaos.
Two Ogres, the ones who had tried to pry open the bars, were cut down before she could even blink. Another, roared a battle cry and rushed forward, only to be met with the same grisly fate. As one, the three of them fell, time seeming to have resumed its course after their deaths.
Invitra blinked, body frozen, and sat there as her fellow tortured brethren were slaughtered one after another. The act only took a minute, and when the pair of demigods were finished, the snow glistened with gold. Invitra looked around and found that she was last remaining alive. All those years of hiding and appearing small had given her a few more seconds of life in the end. And to think that she would wake up in Tartarus and have to experience it all again.
The man's companion approached, absently wiping flecks of golden dust from her coat as she turned to address him. "Kill or devour the remaining one if you wish, I do not care," she said dismissively. The woman turned on her heel and began to trace a path forward, delving deeper into the camp. "But join me after you finish. We need to hurry and conclude the first half of the journey."
Devour her? Invitra mentally gasped. What—
A blur of metal split the air suddenly, poised at her skull. Invitra dropped in the snow and did the first thing that came to instinct. "Wait, please!" she begged, forcing tears to her eyes. She cowered into herself, appearing as weak and as frail as possible. "I beg you, please...spare me."
The demon in mortal flesh froze, something unseen flashing in his eyes. Pity? Or perhaps it was fondness? Invitra didn't know or care, but it seemed whatever she was doing was working.
The man drew a deep breath, then exhaled heavily. After a few seconds' pause, he opened his eyes.
"Alright," the man agreed.
At those words, a sense of relief flooded her momentarily before it was crushed by a sense of dread, and morbid realization. As if the one who'd just slaughtered a hundred of her kind with a grin on his face could be so compassionate. She was a fool to believe anything he said.
Still, she would not let the chance she'd been given go to waste. Invitra rose on wobbly legs, mind all but empty except for a singular goal. Her eyes zeroed in on the demigod's turned back.
The Dracaena reminded him so, so painfully of Annabeth. The shining blond hair, the same eye and mouth shape. Fair skin—ignoring the scales. The resemblance was uncanny. Honestly, it tugged at his heartstrings more than he cared to admit.
Sparing the monster just because she looked like his girlfriend wasn't the only reason, though. Showing some mercy—some of it—was his anchor. His way of reminding himself that he was still good. That he was doing good. Helping people, and not at all a plain murderer like Amethis had said. Even now, days after her death, the words of his enemy still haunted his every waking moment.
Percy spared one last look at the Dracaena, catching a glimpse at her beautiful face. "Annabe—" he caught himself saying. Percy shook his head, and then took off in a jog, hurrying to follow Cinder.
Just this once, he would let her go.
The sensation hit him before he could react. Percy staggered as he felt something sharp cut deep into his back—near where his Achilles Heel used to be. He turned disbelievingly, betrayal in his eyes, and clutched the jagged wound that had begun to leak blood. Annabeth was there, glaring at him with the most hateful look he'd ever seen. Her fangs were bared, and she had blood—his blood—dripping down her claws. "...What?" he gasped in confusion.
Annabeth withdrew her claws and rushed him. Percy saw, more than felt, his body defend itself as it uncapped Riptide and swung the blade at his attacker. A moment later, a head lolled and buried itself deeply within the snow.
Percy looked down at the head, its vacant eyes piercing through his soul.
It wasn't Annabeth.
He collapsed, face-first into the snow, warmth puddling underneath him. Cinder's panicked voice was the last thing he heard before everything faded to black.
Cinder sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow as finished wrapping the bandages. The boy would live, of that she was certain. Her medicinal knowledge was rudimentary at best but fortunately, she had the snow working to her advantage, with it being—at its most basic state—water. She just hoped—prayed that he would awaken before Zeus' hounds caught up to them. The journey had been tiring enough without having to carry a nearly grown man over shoulders.
And, she wished to divine how a single monster had gotten the drop on him.
As if the fates would have it, she heard a pained groan, signaling Perseus' return to consciousness. She was upon him in an instant. "What were you thinking!?" Cinder hissed furiously, yanking him upwards by the collar. "Do you even have a modicum of intelligence in that skull of yours? Or is it empty like I am led to believe?"
Perseus looked pathetic. "I thought—I thought—"
"Naive," Cinder spat acidicly. "I thought we were past this stage in your development. Where is the ferociousness that Nyx observed from you in Tartarus? The one who gave no quarter to his enemies? You were fighting to survive then, and are doing the same now, so what has changed?"
He said nothing.
"Don't tell me...it's because you feel regret for your actions? Or are you still in your head over what happened to the humans?" she pressed disbelievingly.
He said nothing.
Cinder looked down at him balefully. "I knew it," she scoffed. "In the end, you're just a boy whose strength is not his own, too cowardly to make the hardest decisions—to do what is right. Pathetic."
She left him there, laying the cold snow, and trekked onward. Fine, Cinder decided. She would bring an end to the gods herself. She knew she could do it, given enough time. And it was surely for the better. Nyx would have no use for emotionally soft weaklings who couldn't get the job done.
Cinder growled. All of that time spent working at that damn cafe. All that effort wasted on Percy Jackson because her creator saw something in him. Something that she didn't. What a joke, Cinder thought. It was laughable to think that a child held the capacity to change the world. That he could make the bitterest decisions, the ones that could result in great tragedy or loss of life, without falling under the sway of emotion.
She had overestimated him, and so had Nyx. A grave mistake. They would need to be having words when all of this was said and done.
Cinder blinked at the sound of someone approaching from behind her. So buried in her thoughts she was that even one of her father's abominations could sneak up on her?
The face that revealed itself however, was a familiar one.
Oh.
"What do you want?" Cinder questioned snidely, the memory of their time on the ship still fresh. Black, nebulous wisps began drifting off her form in an effort to make her earlier point clear. Perseus raised his head, meeting her gaze, and Cinder noted with great surprise that there was a fire in his eyes.
"Wait for me," the son of Poseidon gasped breathlessly.
Cinder smiled. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.
Percy closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the cold, crisp northern air. There was something about it—this place—that invigorated him and breathed new life into his body. He felt more energized than he had in a long time—and that was saying something, considering he still hadn't eaten anything.
He took another breath of air, letting the freshness of it fill his lungs once more. It had a strange calming effect, similar to meditation or relaxation. Of course, Percy wasn't a monk, but he did sit in silence occasionally whenever life got too stressful. Like now, for instance.
Percy sighed. He had been an idiot again. A fool. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Annabeth was still at Camp Half-Blood, lying broken and half-dead in the infirmary. What were the odds that she would appear in front of him, perfectly fine and in good health? Zero, or close to it, yet his brain thought otherwise. Another mistake that had almost cost him his life. Thankfully the Dracaena hadn't hit anything vital.
Percy dug his boots into the snow and broke into a light jog. Cinder was a bit ahead of him and he had been following behind her since she apparently knew the place. Percy didn't see how, considering it was nothing but freezing water and broken mini-islands of ice and snow.
"How's it looking?" Percy asked when he caught up to her. Cinder kept her eyes glued straight ahead, not even gracing him with a response as she continued her stride towards their destination. Percy sighed. Right, she was still angry at him. He didn't blame her, honestly, after how many times he screwed up in the past week. Only the gods knew why her patience hadn't worn thin already.
Seeing as he'd already overstayed his welcome, Percy slowed his pace and dropped back behind Cinder. He couldn't help but feel a sense of giddiness, despite all the recent problems. They were almost halfway finished. Soon, Nyx would be freed and everyone would be saved. Things would go back to normal. Back to how they should've been.
The minutes of walking passed by in a blur and faded into hours before he knew it. Percy looked up, spying the sun setting on the horizon, and groaned. They had to have been getting close.
He saw Cinder jump across the space between the broken, mini-islands islands, clearing them with a single bound, and then continued her path forward. Percy shrugged and went to follow after her. Instead of jumping though, he simply solidified the water under him and walked across it with ease. Too bad there weren't any Camp kids around to appreciate his talent.
They continued like that for another hour or two before Percy decided he'd had enough. However, just as he was about to ask how much further it was, everything around him went dark.
Percy cast a quick, cautionary glance at himself. His arms were gone. Legs too. Like they weren't even there in the first place.
He snapped to attention, head jerking left and right, up and down. The ground was gone. Snow, ice, the sky—nothing was there. Just a giant, formless void of darkness so black that there was no difference in having in his open or closed. Not even a whisper of sound reached his ears either. In fact...
There was nothing. He was alone.
Gods, he was alone. Percy felt his breath pick up against his will. Where was Cinder? Was it another illusion? Had Amethis risen from the grave to haunt him?
The darkness lightened, if only just. A face came into view in front of him. It was Cinder.
"Keep calm," she spoke, apparently having no trouble seeing. Percy could barely even make out her face. "We are close. The fact that we've entered the inner sanctum proves as much."
Percy nodded and slowed his breathing, inhaling large lungfuls in an effort to calm down. He never would admit it, but being utterly alone in complete darkness freaked him out a little. He had always slept with a night light in his room when he was young, and even at camp he had the window uncovered to allow the moonlight in. Complete darkness was a concept he was wholly unfamiliar with.
A shift of movement in front of him followed by something grabbing his arm made Percy tense. "Stay close to me," Cinder's calm command stopped him from lashing out in fright. "Those who are lost in this place never again return to the land of the living. They are trapped here and eventually become synonymous with the darkness. That being, Nyx."
Percy swallowed nervously and nodded. He was really glad he hadn't killed Cinder during his fit of rage on the ship.
The nerve-racking journey in the dark continued for what felt like hours. And in that time, his eyes didn't adjust to the darkness one bit. Or maybe, they couldn't. This place was magical, after all.
Eventually, they crossed the threshold back into the land of the living. The black void of nothingness around them quickly faded into the starry night sky he was familiar with. Percy had never been more glad to see it in his life.
They stood on a large, floating mass of ice isolated from all the others. An island smack dab in the middle of the ocean. But what really drew his attention was the formless mass of darkness floating at the center of it. It was encased in some sort... of box or container made of dirt and grass, looking trapped like a caged bird yearning to fly. Percy could tell from looking at it that it was their goal.
"The Sphere of Darkness," Cinder spoke, as if reading his thoughts. She walked forward. "An abstraction made physical. This is how we return Nyx to the mortal plane and overthrow the Olympians."
Percy stared in wonder at the thing that would save him and his friends. He yearned to free it. "So how do we do this?" he asked eagerly, in a hurry to get on with things. The sooner they got this done, the sooner everything would go back to normal.
Beside him, Cinder wrinkled her brow in confusion, a puzzled look on her face. "I...do not know," she admitted slowly, almost in shame. "For some reason, that information did not transfer over during the process of my creation."
Percy turned to her with wide eyes and mouth parted in disbelief, not entirely sure if she was being serious. However, the expression on his partner's face was one of sincerity, much to his disappointment. "You're kidding," Percy said exasperatedly. She had to be. "You mean to tell me that we came all this way, in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, just for you to tell me that you don't how free Nyx? That's the worst joke I've ever heard in my life," he spat.
Cinder laughed, dismissing his anger. "You of little faith," she smirked. "Do you really think we've come this far for nothing?"
"Apparently," Percy growled. He didn't share her humor. "You're telling me there is some way to free Nyx after all? How?"
Instead of answering the question, Cinder dropped to a knee and clapped her hands together, beginning to chant something that was lost to his ears. But he did recognize what she was doing. "You're going to call Nyx?" Percy half stated—half-asked in surprise. Relief flooded him. Gods, and she'd had him thinking that the past three months had been for nothing.
Cinder nodded and then fell silent, brows knit in avid concentration. Percy watched as a ball of inky darkness, the same from before, hovered forward and hung suspended in the air in front of them. It expanded wildly, growing appendages—arms, legs, and a head—and before he knew it, The image of Night herself was breathed to life in front of them. She looked identical to the last time he'd seen her, brows furrowed in thinly-veiled anger and a slight scowl on her lips, as if she was wholly unpleased that they'd summoned her.
Nyx stared down at them in silence, the seconds yawing on as neither party seemed to want to break the ice first. Finally, she snapped. "What is it?" The Night hissed. "I was on the verge of something truly groundbreaking. Something your feeble mind could not even comprehend. Something—"
"—We require your help," Cinder cut to the chase immediately. "I hope to have a few moments of your time?"
Nyx's frown grew more thunderous, as if personally offended. "Now you have it," she said. "Speak your request, and quickly. My patience has already run dry."
Cinder nodded, unaffected by her creator's sour mood. "We seek the knowledge of your liberation," she requested. "More specifically, the process of freeing the Sphere of Darkness from its bonds. Normally, I would possess the knowledge myself, but it seems I have...forgotten."
Nyx lifted her head, eyes fluttering about their surroundings as she took them in wordlessly. Then, she shifted her gaze to rest on him. And there it remained.
Nyx stared down at him for a good, long moment, eyes unblinking and body unmoving. Percy felt his breath catch in his throat as she did. It felt like she could see right through him and could look into the deepest parts, darkest parts of his soul. The ones he wanted to hide from the world.
Then, the goddesses' eyes turned back to Cinder and he could breathe again. The two of them were mirror images of each other and Percy could sense the tension between them before the goddess even spoke.
Nyx had but a few words. "Useless," she spat. "A spawn of the Night knowing nothing? A greater disgrace I have never seen."
Cinder lowered her head silently and said nothing, but Percy could see the rage bubbling beneath the surface. He had to get involved before things escalated.
Percy took a step forward and swallowed. "That's right," he spoke, a little quieter than he'd meant to. "We need your help. If you could just tell us how to free you..."
Nyx turned to him again and Percy noticed that her eyes lacked the coldness from earlier and instead were filled with an unsettling warmth. She smiled. "Of course," the goddess said softly, all traces of her anger gone. "Forgive me for my earlier words, Perseus. I was in the process of a rather...enlightening procedure that I am vexed to have to experience again. Sometimes the most insightful things can also prove to be the bitterest."
Percy mirrored her smile, feeling more confident now that she wouldn't kill him. "Like how you and Cerberus had Hellhounds?" he joked lightheartedly, trying to make conversation. That had been a hilarious topic of discussion during the camp bonfires. He supposed that if super-powered beings wanted to, they could make anything work.
Nyx's image flickered violently, like she was seconds away from exploding. "Consider your words carefully, boy," she hissed venomously. "That was an experiment, nothing more."
And there went the happy moment. Percy could hear the vehement disgust in her tone, reinforced by an undertone of regret. He reminded himself to never joke with Nyx again, or any primordial for that matter.
Nyx sighed and caressed her temples in frustration. "Simply place your palm upon the earthen cage and channel your will into it, as if shaping water," she instructed. "The act can only be done by the Earth or a descendant of her, which is why you are here. I've had many moons to divine the method."
"It's that simple?" Percy asked in surprise. It was hard to believe that there weren't any more hoops to jump through.
Nyx smiled. "It is that simple," she confirmed.
Percy nodded and did just that. He walked forward and held the box in his hand, imagining himself controlling it like he did water. The process was more difficult than he expected and as the seconds ticked by, Percy wondered if he was doing it right. Controlling water had always felt like more of an instinct than anything that took skill. Like moving an arm or a leg.
Behind him, Nyx let out a breathy exhale that sounded like a mix between pleasure and pain. Apparently, he was doing something right. "My—" the goddess rasped. "My power has returned."
At her words, the ball of darkness in his hands floated out his grasp and moved back toward the center of the island, its prison crumbling into dust. There, it remained, hanging suspended in the air. Percy nodded. It looked better now. Free and unchained, as everything should be.
And that meant that their work here was done. Percy turned in a hurry back to where they'd come from, eager to get a move on the second half of the journey.
"Wait a moment," Nyx called breathlessly, stopping him before he could get too far. Percy turned around and looked at the goddess. There, he saw gratitude in her eyes.
"Thank you," she said. "Truly. Both for what you have sacrificed for me and your actions here. I assure you that your loved ones will be freed when I am manifest in this world again."
Percy squirmed uncomfortably. "Anything else?" he asked, strained.
Nyx looked down in thought. "Not quite," she said after a time, but her smile did fade a bit. "Merely a fragment of advice. That being: a fool and his life are soon parted. I trust you will never forget it."
Percy wouldn't.
He was entangled deeply within the throes of passion when he sensed it.
Zeus froze and then stood bolt-upright, startling the woman under him who he had seduced to his bedside that night. She muttered something inaudible to his ears and got up to continue her ministrations, but Zeus paid her no mind. He couldn't. Not when he had felt the sheer power and presence of one who should've had no interest in his affairs. It struck a fear in him greater than when the news of his father's revival came to his attention. Or the Earth Mother, for that matter.
Because he knew this was not an opponent he could ever hope to defeat, by normal or abnormal means. The stories of Nyx were few in number, and even fewer in detail. But one theme always present within them was The Night's vast intelligence and immense hatred for Gaea in equal measure, spawning from some great dispute between the two of them that had been lost to time. If she was rising or had already risen, Zeus fully believed that she would give no quarter to those who opposed her. Wholesale slaughter, down to every man, woman, and child.
And he didn't doubt that he would be the first to experience such a thing, as it was customary in war or conquest to make an example of the enemy's king and top commanders. The only way to stop her would be to find and destroy her physical body, as they had done with Gaea. But the task itself was daunting, assuming The Night would learn from her predecessor's mistakes. Zeus didn't even know where to start.
The god of the sky let out a hollow laugh, anger and regret singing in his veins. How ironic it was that he had sensed the daughter—Akhlys—in the world for the briefest of moments, but assumed it was nothing more than a trick of the mind. And wasn't that a thing to ignore?
Zeus began wracking his brain. Why was The Night concerned with his affairs? He could think of nothing, no one, that had interfered with her or whatever she did down in the pit. Had he slighted her in some way? Perhaps she wanted to try her hand at being king and coveted what was his instead of trying to build something of her own?
Ultimately, it didn't matter. His time to devise countermeasures was short. Maybe if he discerned the reason for her ire, and appealed to it, The Night would retreat and leave him to his affairs? An interesting thought, that one was.
Zeus gaped in sudden realization. Tartarus was where Nyx resided. But more importantly, it was where the Doors Of Death were located, and—and where Perseus...had gone...to close them.
Another ripple of power rang true and shook him to the core, cementing that one of his worst fears had been made reality.
Perseus had betrayed him after all.
A/N:
Wow, this chapter was long. 10k words, all edited in a single go. Needless to say, I'm spent. Only you guys can whether the increased length is a good thing.
We're coming up on what I think is the halfway point of this story. A bit hard to tell, given how unpredictable the process of writing is. Though, a fair warning to those who were expecting otherwise; this story will not be an epic length, million-word novel or anything close to it. I am, however, taking great care to envision a satisfying ending, both among the readers and myself. Can't say too much, right now, but I do have a vague idea of how and when I want to wrap things up.
Thank you to all who have stuck around this long, despite the chaotic update schedule. Really means a lot to fledgling authors like me.
