Disclaimer: I own nothing.

AN: Thank you everyone for your comments, and for your patience! It means a lot. Just FYI I've cut this chapter here because it was near 6k so I'm breaking it up into 2 chapters. I hope you don't find the cut off too abrupt or anything but I look forward to any feedback.

Plea: I know there are tons of super creative individuals out there and while I'm not gifted in drawing, I was hoping someone might be. I'd really love for someone to illustrate something for my story so I could make it my icon and link to it in the story itself. Like a cover of sorts. :) So if anyone is fancy like that I'd love to hear from you.

Tempting the Fates

Chapter Thirty

Death Mist

Percy

The first thought to cross Percy's mind besides life is pointless, we should end it all, we're never going to make it, everything is futile, no really we're all going to die was that this had to be Bob's idea of a joke. The second thought after wow, this is sadder than when Annabeth listened to the sirens songs and went mental and tried to drown herself and nearly punched out all my teeth when I tried to save her was confirmation to himself that Bob was completely serious. No joking here, LOL.

In the barren field before them, the ghoul continued to moan, her cries darkening Percy's mind. The closer they got the harder it was to step and his knees nearly buckled if not for Bob's hand on his elbow. Whoever this Akhlys was, she bore a striking resemblance to the previous Oracle of Delphi— not Rachel. The one before that.

Between the desiccated skin and the serious case of split ends, like seriously her hair was probably about seventeen different lengths and not in the punky skater kind of way, she looked like a dried out corn husk. Or this mummy he'd seen in a museum one time. And that was precisely why she reminded him of the previous Oracle of Delphi. Pretty similar skin pallor as well, that whole sickly greenish colour that looked like something his mom found under his bed that summer he was trying to grown his own garden by leaving half eaten bowls of food under his bed.

As they got closer, Percy noticed a shield she was clutching in her hands. It obscured her face and he was glad for that, if there was any such thing as being glad anymore. He shook the thought off and held fast to Nico's arm.

"Akhlys!" Bob boomed, voice carrying across the barren field.

Small Bob was hidden, once more, inside the front of his coveralls. In the last few minutes, though, whether the little demon cat was growing more brave or it just couldn't believe what a terrible idea this was (he could totally sympathise), he'd popped his head up and out of the clothing. A paw hooked on either side, he was gazing around in what could only be described as a wide-eyed manner for a skeleton cat— creepy but cute in a way that was probably something Nico was far more accustomed to, demonic pets from the Underworld and all, than Percy.

She lifted her head and the Sea Prince's stomach flipped out. As in, nearly flipped out of his mouth. To put it kindly, if he'd had more than a few sips of stew and some drakon jerky in his stomach he would have been the first demigod to ever blow chunks all over Tartarus. Fortunately that didn't make his list of firsts.

Peering out from the shield, he dropped his eyes and wished she'd disappear behind it once more. Her face was taunt, skin stretched across bones, and her eyes were a milky— the murk did nothing to soften her sharp gaze on the two demigods. Blood dripped from her cheeks, long claw marks marring her already imperfect skin. It was leathery, as was the rest of her, and she looked like a doll without enough stuffing. Her joints were swollen but sharp, and she looked like she could use about seven hundred cheese burgers. Or a hug. Not that anyone would get close enough for a hug.

Her eyes were weeping and her nose was a faucet, snot dripping from her face and down onto her clothes almost as quickly as the blood pooled from her cheeks, spotting the dirt caked tattered piece of fabric she called a dress. Cobwebs clung to her limp hair and dust was piled thick on her shoulders. Her fingernails were long— not long in that New York fashion kind of way older teenagers and women tried to get away with as in they could hardly use their phones or type or do anything without catching them, but long as in World Record long. The tips were tinged with red and if he wasn't mistake, probably her own flesh was stuck under them. There were definite crusted chunks going on and they looked remarkably like the holes in her face but Percy didn't inspect any closer lest he vomit all over himself because queasy didn't even begin to describe it.

In the end, he had to look away. Not only was she revolting but the thoughts were being pushed aside by the desolation overtaking him. Catching on now, he had to remind himself, it was the pit whispering to him. Maybe she was helping, weaving some kind of sorrowful spell, but he couldn't fall into that trap. They were here for a purpose… even if he was having a hard time remembering what it was…

Green eyes caught onto something at her feet. A gold shield, strong but beautiful. On it was carved a likeness of the woman over and over again, a never ending reflection. It was familiar but he couldn't place it, not that he could place anything anymore. Did anything really have a place? Because it was all pointless…

"Hercules," Nico piped up, linking his arm with Percy's. The weight of the other boy's arm on his anchored him, reeling him back towards reality. In that time. In that spot. They had a mission and Nico and he were keeping one another alive. The Doors of Death… they had to meet the others to help save the world. The memories came flashing back, a series of images and snippets of conversation.

He shot a grateful look to the other.

"Recognise this, do you? Isn't it absolutely dreadful? Not an accurate likeness at all. I'm so much more dismal, don't you think?"

Bob nodded eagerly. "Oh yes, very dismal. Akhlys is the most woeful of all."

Her thin lips stretched into a grimace that might have been a grin if she had any meat to her face at all but as it was it was the stretching of skin across rotting and crooked teeth that would make most Gods he'd met shrink back— especially if there was a god or goddess of teeth. Percy didn't know one but if there was some kind of orthodontic obsessed god? They'd faint.

"Why have you brought these two children to me? That one," she motioned a gnarled hand towards Nico, "that one I can see. He's absolutely ominous but this one," with the other gnarled hand she motioned to Percy, "far too, what is the word…"

"Cheerful?" Bob supplied helpfully.

Akhlys screeched in pain, the kind of high pitched scritching noise that was reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard but more depressing than irritating. Percy slapped his hands over his ears, same as Nico, and both boys flinched.

"Really, such language! I may be a grievous Goddess but you really should watch your tongue!"

Bob slumped his shoulders, caving in on his massive self. Small Bob mewled helpfully.

"And what is that beast!?"

"Small Bob."

"Get that away from me… it's just… it's so…"

"Cute?" Bob said.

Akhlys screeched again, gouging larger holes in her cheeks. The blood ran down her cheeks more freely, the new wounds joining with the other gaping holes. Her tattered dress became even more polka dot'ed in blood all the faster.

"I think I've lost the will to live," Percy mumbled only half sarcastic to Nico who snickered behind his own hand.

"Enough!" Bob roared, both confused and upset by her wailing. She stood a little straighter and paid him attention. "Bob brought them here to hide them. You control the Death Mist. They must be hidden."

"Oh this is a terrible idea," he groaned.

"Absolutely terrible!" Akhlys agreed. "Hide them… why would I do that?" She gurgled and was very possibly choking to death on her own snot at that point which was only slightly less revolting than the alternative, which was that she was attempting to laugh. Somehow, Percy was pretty sure the hag wouldn't know a good belly laugh if it burst from her own mouth.

"To help them. Because you are the only one."

If her features weren't so weather worn and battered, the son of the sea might have mistaken some twitching in her emaciated face to be a quirking of the eyebrow. But he couldn't completely dismiss the look, either. "The armies of Tartarus will find them."

"Well that's helpful," Nico sighed. He stood straight, face cold and features unmoving. Somehow he managed to look bored. "I mean, I understand you're pretty pathetic and everything but I definitely thought the whole Goddess of Misery thing would be a lot more powerful." Arms folded across his chest, one hand holding to the opposite elbow. "Not some whiny halfwit. And I definitely never thought that I would be more powerful than her." Nico turned to Percy and shrugged a shoulder. "No harm. I can control the Death Mist, too."

Percy furrowed his brows. Nico could… "What!?" Bob, however, was shifting his weight back and forth between two massive feet and twirling his broom but did not look in the least bit surprised. He nodded his head a little as if to consent to the truth of the statement.

"I just thought, you know, Bob made a big deal about her being able to help. She had to be better at it than me. But… I guess we all make mistakes." Another raising and falling of a shoulder and Nico began to steer Percy away.

"Enough!" She screeched, her teeth grinding when she closed her mouth. Her breaths came in deep and laboured, probably because she was snotting like crazy and her only choice was to breathe through her mouth. Loudly. Rheumy eyes blinked. "Ask me for something practical. I am the goddess of poisons and there are so many ways to die. I could concoct any kind you'd like. Painful, prolonged, positively putrescent! And still, kinder than the fate that awaits you in Tartarus."

Nico frowned at Bob and shrugged once more. "I thought you said she was the living embodiment of despondency—"

"I am!"

"— But she doesn't seem to be suffering all that much. I don't know. I've definitely seen more miserable in my life…"

"I am the most miserable of all! And certainly stronger than some pathetic child of Hades. You are nothing, boy. Not even a true son of Death but a pretender! A keeper of the dead is more like it, and how hard is it to keep the dead? They're already dead!" She wailed. "But leading someone to death… now that, that is true talent! All of the possibilities, ripe for the crafting! And for that I am the most wretched!"

Nico looked Akhlys up and down as if sizing her up and shook his head, dark hair falling across equally midnight eyes.

"I'm not buying it. Let's go."

The goddess' hand shot out and pulled Nico close, unaccepting of his answer.

"Come with me."

The look Nico shot Percy told him to follow. This had been the plan. But he was still sort of curious to the whole was Nico actually able to control the Death Mist thing? He didn't speak about Tartarus or the clay jar so maybe the first time… had he controlled the mist? Maybe he'd gotten tired and not been able to hold on or maybe something had happened and… Percy's mind reeled a million miles an hour. Grover probably would have made a comment about hearing the hamster in the wheel trying to make it turn.

Following after the other two, he sighed, stepping a little easier when Akhlys let Nico go. He cast a gaze over his shoulder and saw Bob stood unmoving where he was.

"Bob?" Percy called back over his shoulder.

The Titan waved. "I will meet you on the other side."

"But…"

"This path is for mortals. He cannot make this journey with you."

Anguish twisted his stomach and crept up his throat.

"This is a really really bad idea," Percy mumbled so only Nico could hear. The younger man kept his feet shuffling forward but bowed his head a noticeable increment.

"The worst," he agreed.

"Are we going to—"

"—Go through with it? Definitely."

"Thought so."

They travelled down the path, mist thickening around them until it was possible to see in front of them. Nico was still at Percy's side and he was thankful for that because even with a few inches, it was becoming impossible to see the other. But they bumped elbows now and again and it jarred his thoughts of we're never going to make it out of this aside momentarily.

Akhlys strode before them. Percy could hear her, the occasional wail piercing the dark and the mist. That and the ground in front of them was not only dotted with her blood (apparently still free flowing from the self inflicted craters on her cheeks) but the barren soil in front of them was dotted with flowers pushing forth. That was rather odd considering she was a miserable sack of boogers and tears. The scent was sickly and sweet, he preferred to breathe through his mouth but could almost taste their aroma filling the air.

Percy lifted a hand to cover his mouth and nearly shouted, cursing under his breath.

The mist before them was thick, tendrils being pushed aside as they walked through it following the Goddess of Misery forward to whatever help she would provide. But the mist… it was so thick because it was coming from them. It was leeching from Percy in fat tendrils, escaping from his hand and his legs and his face. In fact, he exhaled, and it curled outward like a vine from his mouth.

His heart hammered in his chest and his breaths came a little faster, the mist pressing in on him from all sides. Percy tried to walk a little faster but nearly tripped over the uneven ground, a tendril from on of Akhlys' portentous plants wrapping around his ankle and catching him as he stepped. He threw his other foot out to catch and steady himself, hands at the ready to take the impact of the earth if he got that far. But he didn't.

Instead, for the first time, his hands were held out in front of himself and Percy could have an actual look at them. The mist was moving faster now, haemorrhaging from every inch of his body and escaping into the air around them. Where his hands should be, Percy saw instead muscles and veins dissolving to reveal bones, the joints of his fingers flexing and shifting ready to catch himself. The flesh was translucent, pale and evaporating before his eyes. The same happened to his arms and his legs as the mist fled from his body.

"N-nico," he choked.

Looking up, he nearly vomited (but he wasn't entirely sure he actually had a stomach any longer) as he caught sight of his companion.

It wasn't the child of Hades that stood before him any more but a swiftly deteriorating corpse, decomposing before his eyes. Eyes were sunken into his skull, dark and lifeless. His hair was still jet black and thick, but it was withering and breaking. The flesh from his cheek was drying up and flaking away before Percy's eyes, exposing the muscles until those, too, were eaten away by the acrid air of Tartarus and they were like sinkholes, seeing a tongue and some teeth through an opening that wasn't a mouth.

Percy dropped his eyes, not in judgment but embarrassed to see the other boy in such a state.

Not that you look any better, his own voice piped up in the back of his mind. Because, you know, they were both the dream team extras for The Walking Dead by that point. Maybe his vision was clouded or something but Percy didn't think he was declining at the rate the child of Hades was. In fact— he stole another glance— it seemed to be going twice as fast.

As if reading his mind, Nico cleared his throat.

"I'll always be closer to death that you, Perce. For a million reasons. Only one of which being I look pretty incredible for an eighty something year old."

Despite himself, Percy laughed.

A shriek echoed through the mist from in front of them. The fog parted and Akhlys reached through, clutching both of them. Percy didn't even attempt to hide the fact that he shied away, steering clear of the barrage of boogers that nearly wound up trickling down his whole right side. There were just some things you didn't need to share with someone who was helping you, and your own mucus was riding high on that list.

"What is that horrendous noise?"

"Laughter?" Nico added unhelpfully.

Another shriek pierced the air. Apparently anything that sounded like, or eluded to, a positive drove her into a manic frenzy. Nails like talons dug into his dissolving arm and pulled him through the thick fog, emerging at the end of a peninsula, jutting over a pit.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," but even though he muttered it, the Goddess of death was tuned in and picked up.

"Why no, not at all! You didn't honestly think that Tartarus was all that there is, did you?"

"Actually, yes. I did." Percy replied.

For a moment, Akhlys stood there blinking, her eyes watering faster, tears interrupted only briefly. There was a brief second where Percy mentally high fived himself for stumping her into silence. When she recomposed herself, which included gouging her cheeks out further and hacking coughs that spat phlegm and tears everywhere, she fixed her watery gaze on them once more. Each tear fell to the ground and poisonous plants sprung up in their wake, growing at a rabid pace. Hemlock. Nightshade. Oleander. Foxglove.

"Here is the edge of the earliest darkness, Night. The realm of death and lower still, the realm of Chaos, from which everything you know and many things you don't know, were born. You are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been. Can't you feel it? Final death."

"Final death?" Percy questioned.

Nico, turned to his friend and shrugged a thin shoulder. "Final Death. As in we're on the verge of being dead."

"Dead dead?"

"… That's the only kind of dead there is," Nico pointed out.

"Okay—"

"You're really not okay," Akhlys interjected.

"— but we can pass by the monsters without them noticing, right? Like they won't see us or smell us or anything?"

The goddess of Misery stood again, blinking her cavernous eyes once more. Only this time, Nico was also blinking slow and steady.

"Percy… she means final death as in it doesn't matter because we won't live that long."

"No, not living at all!"

"Oh. Well… that certainly puts a dent in our plans."