As the World Falls Down

Asclepius

Falling into Tartarus is not Asclepius's idea of a good time. But honestly, it's not as bad as it could be. At least he's not mortal. Zeus didn't seem to think of stripping him of his godly powers before having Boreas toss him into the pit.

Enveloped in darkness, the scent of sulphur strong in his nose, he clutches his staff and closes his eyes. If Hesiod was right in his estimate, it will take nine days to hit the bottom, he might as well rest up while he can, and, perhaps, make a final attempt at contacting Apollo.

It feels both like an eternity and no time at all before his eyelids glow red and he lifts them again. The air is thick and foul tasting. He can make out a glowing red line snaking across a vast landscape. He figures it is the river Phlegethon.

At least that simplifies matters. He won't have to travel far to find a source of replenishment. He wrinkles his nose at the thought. The backwards nature of Tartarus flies in the face of science and health. If there is a method of flourishing in such a place, Asclepius determines he will discover it. Perhaps through the process, he may expand his learning. It's been too long since he's faced a new challenge. Life as a god, segregated from the mortals, was so tedious, he's almost grateful for this new adventure. Anything to have the freedom to move about without Olympus breathing down his neck.

The surface rises to meet him faster than he'd anticipated and it's only the tickling of Spike's tongue in his ear that alerts him. He throws his hand forward and down, slowing his descent until he's able to take the final step onto the surface of Tartarus, his feet crunching on the gravel made up of broken glass and bone. Yet, even as he finds his balance, his stomach seems to lift inside his body, as if he'd missed a step walking downstairs, or was riding an elevator that lurched.

He furrows his eyebrows and exchanges a look with Spike. Spike sticks out his tongue and quickly draws it back in, then shakes his head sharply.

"I know. The air is poison here. We'll adapt," Asclepius tells the snake, then bends down, supporting himself with his staff and touches a clear patch of ground. It pulses under his palm and he draws back immediately, standing up again. "He's rising. I don't understand how this is possible, but we are very much not as far down as we ought to be."

The world lurches and Asclepius spins, holding his staff tightly in his fist, grinding his teeth as his legs push up against his his hip joint with a force that would shatter his pelvis had he been mortal. Apparently the upward propulsion has stopped, at least for the moment.

"Alright there, Spike?" Asclepius asks.

The python on his staff hisses and his crown of spikes fan out around his neck.

"Yes. I see your point. We should take a quick survey of the terrain, take some samples, and get busy surviving. Keep a sharp eye for monsters, would you?"

XxxX

It feels like days later, though Asclepius suspects only hours have passed, he reaches the Phlegethon. He scrapes his calves climbing down to the bank, littered with obsidian shards, and a stream of golden ichor runs down his leg into his shoes. He calmly draws a phial from his jacket pocket and collects a sample, then stoppers it and slips it back into his pocket.

While he's here, he plans to study all he can, from how the poisonous atmosphere effects immortality in a physical sense, to determining what poisons are, in fact, beneficial in this environment. It stands to reason there must be a method of healing, even in Tartarus, for even in the mortal world, some toxic substance can be rendered neutral and even beneficial. In this place – he sighs, breathing out the noxious air, tasting ichor in his throat – where a river of fire sustains life, anything is possible.

He retrieves a small cup from his pocket, humming a hymn to his Apollo in thanks for gifting him with the garment so many eons ago, and draws a draught of the fire. He brings it to his lips and swallows it fast. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, holding himself upright with his staff. He has to fight his own nature to accept his new reality. Drinking fire runs counter to all he's ever held dear.

When the spasms pass and his throat feels like it's been burned open and scabbed over he opens his eyes again. Spike has his crown exposed, his nose pointing as if he senses danger.

Asclepius follows the direction with his eyes until he finds the disturbance. At first, he wrinkles his nose in disgust. What appears to be a fluid-filled blister on Tartarus's skin trembles, ready to burst, but then he catches sight of a humanoid shape within it. Not even sparing a thought, he rushes to investigate, the instinct to assist and heal overriding self-preservation.

It's a woman. Her blue robes and dark hair swirl around her body, caught up and moving slowly as though the fluid surrounding her is viscous. She had been pressing hard against the bulging surface, trying to break it, but backs away when she spots Asclepius approaching.

He holds up his hands, palms forward, his staff resting the crook of his elbow, and stares intently, trying to get a clear view of her face. She seems familiar, though he knows he's never laid eyes on this woman before. The fact she's growing on the surface of Tartarus means she's not mortal, but neither does she seem to be a monster.

Apparently satisfied he's not planning to hurt her, she rises closer to the surface again and slams her hand against the thick membrane separating them. Her eyes flash, dark and angry and then she points at Asclepius's feet.

He looks and picks up an obsidian shard from beside his foot. He kneels, his staff in his left hand, supporting him, the shard in his right. She points at a section of membrane above her curled knees, then backs up as much as she can, hugging her legs.

Asclepius brings the shard down and punctures the membrane in a gush of gooey pink tinged secretions. He doesn't even flinch as they splatter his suit.

The woman sits up and takes a deep breath, wrinkling her nose at the acrid air. She meets Asclepius's eyes, her expression softening. "Well, that was disgusting. It's my first time re-forming."

Asclepius offers his hand and helps her up. She stands two feet taller than him and radiates a gentle power that immediately puts him at ease. He cocks his head as he studies her face. "You remind me of Artemis," he says, surprising himself at his boldness. He'd meant to only think it. "But less angry. I don't sense any bloodlust in you."

She smiles at him, almost appearing smug, another expression he's seen Artemis wear.

"I am flattered. Artemis is my daughter. I am Leto."

Stunned, Asclepius stares at his grandmother. He can't recall her having been vanquished. And then he's aware of Leto snapping her fingers before his face, her voice fearful.

"We have to find shelter. Look."

Asclepius comes back to himself in an instant, unsure of how much time had passed. Across the expanse of Tartarus's terrain, a darkness descends, rolling toward them and spreading like blood in water.

XxxX

Nico

Nico gasps, drawing in his breaths like he's just escaped drowning. He flings his arms searching for something to hold onto. He was back in Tartarus, falling, the pull too strong to fight. His throat burns with the memory.

And then hands touch his body, cool against his chest, his heart hammering hard enough to break his ribs. "Nico … Gods of Olympus … You're diaphoretic."

Nico blinks, focusing on Will's voice, coming back to himself. He meets Will's eyes in the dim light of morning that filters in through his cabin's window. He lies back on his pillow, grimacing at how soggy it feels and tries to slow his racing heart.

Will grabs his doctor's bag and pulls out his blood pressure cuff. Nico waves him off when he spots it. "No … n-no," he stutters. "It was only a dream. I'm alright."

Will doesn't seem convinced. His forehead creases, his fingers twitching like he really wants to take Nico's pulse.

Nico's mind whirls, grasping at the tendrils of his memory before they slip away. He'd been there. Tartarus. Witnessed Asclepius's descent. Asclepius as good as confirmed it; Tartarus is rising. Deep down, though he really doesn't want to go there, Nico knows it's his fault. When he hadn't trusted Will to vanquish Python on his own, Nico had called the Underworld closer to the Earth's surface. It's not a far stretch, now that he knows Will's powers make his Underworld abilities grow, to imagine he'd reached too deeply, that he'd called Tartarus closer as well. Maybe that's why Hades stripped him of his abilities, why he wants Nico safely out of the picture – Hades doesn't trust him to know his own strength. The truth is that if it really is his fault, he's responsible for fixing it.

"I can't not do anything," he says, more to himself than to Will. "Tartarus is rising."

Will runs his hand over Nico's forehead, pushing his damp bangs out of his face. When he speaks, he sounds uncertain, almost like he's trying to be kind, to not offend. "What can you do, Nico? Your powers …" He leaves the rest of his sentence unspoken.

Nico bites back his retort as he looks at Will, really looks him over. The circles under Will's eyes are dark, his skin pallid. He must have poured a lot of his power into trying to do something for Lou Ellen.

Last night … Nico covers Will's hand with his own and gives it a squeeze. He's never seen Will so desperate, so needy. He wants to curse their situation. It's not fair that he's missing time and seems to be the only person to notice. It isn't fair that he and Hazel had their powers stripped without a proper explanation, and not even by Hades himself. It isn't fair that Will needs to deal with Lou Ellen disappearing, and realizing that his boyfriend doesn't fully recall the past two years they had together. It's not fair that Zephyros and Mr. D seem to know something about what is happening, Apollo too, and they're not doing anything about it.

It's not fair that Asclepius was thrown into Tartarus when, without him, the Delphic Oracle wouldn't have been saved, Apollo would have fallen and Zeus is almost willfully blind to reality.

Will shifts uncomfortably. He turns his hand over and links their fingers together, watching Nico intently. "Nico? What are you planning?"

Nico breathes out deeply, and then sits forward. "We need to finish the quest, Will. The prophecy hasn't been fulfilled. I think we need to find your dad, have you do that weird reading of his 'not answers' thing, and then we have to petition Chiron to let us go."

Will chews on his lower lip, thinking over Nico's words. His eyes have a faraway look to them as he seems to stare through Nico, not seeing him. "Yeah," he says finally. "I guess."