Hi everyone! I hope you're enjoying so far! I don't know if I'll be update tomorrow, since I have a busy day, but I'll try! Next chapter is going to be Percy's POV (fun!). Hope you guys are enjoying so far! Please leave a review! It'll inspire me! - N x

ANNABETH

The River of Fire (AKA Phlegethon) is used to punish the wicked, but, in some legends, it was considered the River of Healing. It keeps the wicked in one piece so that they can endure their punishments and—sure, some isn't reassuring, but it's the best we have.

The flickering I had seen earlier had been coming from a fire. In fact, it had been coming from the fire I just needed the most—Phlegethon.

I still felt cold, but standing so close to the fire made my skin feel raw and burnt. The longer I stayed, my lungs seemed to be able to take in less and less air—like it was filling up with sand, which also made me feel much heavier than I would have liked. The makeshift cast I had on my foot seemed to have gotten off me during the fall or when I was in Cocytus, which only made my foot feel worse.

Assuming I could make it down to the river, which didn't seem very likely at the moment, I would have to drink it, which I was even more unsure of.

I had two ways to get down, that I could think of. One was to walk in either direction and hope there was a place where the land beside the river and the land on the cliff met, or to climb down. The first offered no certainty that we'd get there in time, if at all, so she was left with the second.

I used my makeshift dagger to tear another piece of my shirt.

At this rate, I'll have a short crop top by the time I get out, I thought, that is, if I get out.

I put the handle of my dagger in my mouth as I struggled to wrap the fabric around my bloody hands and climb down the ledge.

My fingers shook, both because of how weak they were from exhaustion and because of the sheer amount of blood that coated them.

My arms began to get blistered as I climbed down, and the sweat stung my eyes and made my clothes stick to my back. My hands trembled the more I climbed, and my knees were beginning to shake. Each time I had to use my bad ankle, I bit down more on my dagger, trying not to scream.

Finally, I landed.

I staggered over the glass ledges and around the boulders, careful not to slip on anything. When I arrived on the river bank, I placed my dagger beside me and dipped my fingers into it.

It felt like I was holding onto ice, which meant it was probably so hot it was overwhelming my nerves. I couldn't think of it so much now, I just needed to drink.

On the plus side, if I ever get out of this, I doubt spicy food would affect me much anymore.

It tasted the way you would expect fire to taste—meaning it didn't taste like anything at all. It just burnt like hell. My eyes widened as I drank it, boiling hot tears falling out of them. It felt like fire came out of my ears and nose. I fell back, holding onto the broken glass for dear life, as I shook. The fire seemed to have activated every neuron of my body and sent energy through each one, forcing my body to convulse.

And then it didn't.

I took several deep breaths as I sat back up, my back against the fire. I looked at my hands and arms, which seemed to be healing.

I took my dagger from the ground.

Now that I was healed, I needed to think.

I looked up the cliff I had just climbed down. I couldn't climb up it even if I wanted to—I didn't have enough energy. That, and it would likely be safer to stay by the Phlegethon. It was the Underworld's version of ambrosia, after all. If anything happened to me, it would be safe to be near something that could heal me quickly. Well, relatively quickly.

I needed to get to the Doors of Death—not just for me, but for everyone else, too. I needed to close it from this side, otherwise Gaea's army would overrun the world. The doors would probably be in the center of it all, which tempted me to go downstream, toward, what I assumed, would be the center of Tartarus. Toward, what I assumed, would be more dangerous territory. That meant I probably needed to get better weapons, too.

I looked around again for any sign of Arachne. She made me land in the Cocytus safely with her webs, which made me wonder about what exactly she could want with me. I had a feeling that she was keeping me safe for now, but I didn't know what for. If I knew why, I could likely avoid doing what would make her want to kill me so she could keep the peace a while longer.

I never thought I'd be thankful that Arachne has some twisted revenge plan for me, but right now, it was working in my favor.

I began walking downstream.

I had only traveled a few hundred yards when I heard voices, but I didn't quite register them for a few seconds.

My body was working almost on autopilot. I had no energy, and no water and food to change the fact I had no energy. Being alone in Tartarus, I doubted I could sleep, either. Being hungry, thirsty, and alone in Tartarus, I doubt I even should sleep. I was hoping to find water soon.

I remember reading that the body could only last without water for three days, but I assumed that wasn't the case here. If I had fallen for nine days, I should have been dead by now. Phlegethon may have also cured my dehydration for a while, too—not that it made me any less thirsty. It just kept me going.

My eyes weighed about a hundred drachmas from exhaustion when I heard the voices—the voices of girls arguing.

I hid behind a boulder, wedging myself so close to Phlegethon, my shoes almost touched the river's fire. In front of the boulder, voices snarled, getting louder and louder as they approached from upstream.

This was likely one of the few moments I was grateful for Percy's absence, which makes me sound like a terrible girlfriend in more ways than one. While it felt lonely and frightening to be here alone, I shouldn't wish Percy was here at all, but I did. It was selfish, but a part of me really wanted him here. Still, I knew I did the right thing by letting him go.

This was one of the moments that I knew if for certain.

Monsters could smell demigods, especially powerful ones like Percy. If he were here, a boulder surely wouldn't be enough to hide him. For me, however, a combination of the boulder and the rancid air, I was sure it would mask my scent enough.

"Soon?" one of them asked in a raspy voice.

"Oh my gods!" said another voice. This one sounded younger and more human, but I doubted it would be safe to go check. She sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on who she was. "You guys are totally annoying! I told you, it's like three days from here."

What's three days from here?

There was a chorus of grumbling and complaining. Probably half a dozen of them just passed on the other side of the boulder, but none of them had indicated that they'd caught my scent.

"I wonder," said a third voice, resembling the first voice, "if perhaps you do not know the way, young one."

"Oh, shut your fang hole, Serephone," said the teenage girl. "When's the last time you escaped to the mortal world? I was there a couple years ago. I know the way! Besides I understand what we're facing up there? You don't have a clue!"

"The Earth Mother did not make you boss!" shrieked a fourth voice.

I could hear more hissing, scuffing, and feral moans. It sounded like street cats that were fighting on the sidewalk.

"Enough!" yelled Serephone. "We will follow for now. But if you do not lead us well, if we find that you have lied about the summons of Gaea—"

"I don't lie!" snapped the teenage girl. "Believe me, I've got good reason to get into this battle. I have some enemies to devour, and you'll feast on the blood of heroes. Just leave one special morsel for me—the one named Percy Jackson."

I snarled, keeping a tight grip on my glass dagger. I took the quietest deep breaths I could. It wouldn't be smart to fight them with this kind of weapon. It would probably kill me.

"Believe me," said the teenage girl. "Gaea has called us, and we're going to have so much fun. Before this war is over, mortals and demigods will tremble at the sound of my name—Kelli!"

My eyes widened to the size of saucers. I recognized the name. Kelli was an Empousa—a vampire. Two years ago, he and Rachel Dare had been attacked by them disguised as cheerleaders. One of them had been Kelli. Later, the same Empousa attacked them in Daedalus's workship. Annabeth had stabbed her in the back and… sent her here… to Tartarus.

Brilliant.

The Empousai shuffled off, and their voices got fainter. I glanced at them.

Five Empousai with mismatched legs—one of mechanical bronze and another shaggy and cloven-hooved on the right. Their hair was made of fire and they had pale, white skin. Most of them wore tattered Ancient Greek dresses, but Kelli wore her cheerleader's outfit.

My jaw clenched. I faced a bunch of monsters throughout the years, but Empousai were one of my least favourite.

They had a tendency to manipulate the Mist. They could shapeshift and charmspeak, tricking mortals into letting down their guards—especially men. A popular tactic they used to kill was to make a guy fall in love with her and then eat him.

Kelli had almost killed Percy and manipulated Luke into committing dark deeds in the name of Kronos.

Gods, I wish I had a better weapon.

I sighed.

As much as I hated it, they seemed like the best way out. Kelli was talking about going to the mortal world—which could have only meant the Doors of Death. If I wanted a quick, 3-day trip out, this was the way to do it.