PART 1:

"He who descends into the darkness, often learns to embrace it."

CHAPTER 1:

Sally Jackson had once mentioned that she'd named her son 'Perseus' because the original hero had been one of the few demigods whose story hadn't ended in tragedy.

She had hoped, as all mothers did, to see her son safe and sound in her arms. Percy may have fought off Titans and monsters, but when Sally looked at him, she could also see who he had been before that fateful day at Montauk had driven him to Camp Half-Blood.

She had hoped to see him safely return, and look at her with his bright sea-green eyes and his lovely smile, every time he had gone off on some quest to save the world. She worried about him constantly, as she should, but she couldn't help but feel immense pride whenever she remembered his heroic acts.

But that was precisely the problem, wasn't it? After all, not every hero had a happy ending, and Percy Jackson had been doomed from the beginning, to either end the world or end himself.

Falling.

Percy had never been thrilled by the act of flying, or in this case, falling. Nothing he did could make him ignore the sound of the wind rushing past his ear. He tried to keep track of time, but eventually decided it was a futile effort to occupy his mind when he counted beyond twenty minutes.

The realisation hadn't really sunk in yet. His relief at having saved Annabeth was soon replaced by the growing horror that he was falling into Tartarus, home to the despicable Titans and monsters of ancient times.

The fight with the twin giants had exhausted his body and mind. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and hope that he wouldn't ultimately die because of the fall. He wasn't even surprised by how little the thought of his impending doom affected him. He almost laughed aloud at his cavalier approach to death.

He didn't know how long one would take to fall into Tartarus. A small part of his mind figured that Annabeth would have known. Annabeth. Percy wished desperately to have her by his side, but immediately shook his head off that selfish thought. He would rather have her safe than suffering with him.

He couldn't have let anything happen to her, no matter the cost to his own life. His mind churned with anxiety as gravity pulled him further down the endless dark pit. He couldn't help recalling the words that Bacchus had spoken to him earlier, before leaving.

Your voyage may be a little harder than you expect, son of Neptune.

He clenched his fist tighter around Riptide. He tried to regulate his breathing. He couldn't dwell on how unfair it was that he was being subjected to this fate. He knew that doing so would do nothing but destroy what little hope he had left.

Percy's inner turmoil was halted abruptly when he noticed a change in the air around him. The air became thick with the smell of sulphur, and the darkness around him gave way to red clouds, looking as if they were drenched in blood.

There was little to no light below him. The walls, the air, were all a varying mixture of red and black, so he didn't really pay attention to the glittering, black liquid of a river until it was too late.

He was sure he would have died on the impact, if it weren't for the fact that as concentrated as this fluid was, it was better to fall into something akin to water than falling on solid land. Thank the Gods for small miracles.

The liquid rushed over his head and he sank to the bottom of the shallow river. A familiar feeling started rushing over his body. He felt as though he had fallen into a pit of boiling acid. Without realising it, his grip on Riptide slackened.

He stretched his arms above him, preparing to propel himself to the surface and then the shore, but the river was eating away at his body. He could feel himself ceasing to exist.

He groggily realised that he may have thanked the Gods too early, because he could remember exactly why this burning sensation felt so familiar. He snapped his eyes open and saw his fingers start to dissolve into the black liquid that was drowning him.

Percy didn't know when he lost consciousness, but it was clear that something magical had happened, because when he opened his eyes next, he didn't feel like his soul was being ripped from his body.

Even as he saw himself lying on the banks of the same river he had fallen into, he knew he wasn't so lucky so as to be saved from that fate.

He saw a woman kneeling over him. She had black hair, seemingly endless black eyes and was wearing a dark, smoky dress. Percy credited himself on being able to distinguish her from the darkened walls of Tartarus. There was hardly any light around him.

Percy slowly sat up and looked around. He couldn't be sure if this was still a dream. Everything felt too vivid and sharp. He could feel his fingers again, resting over the rough, callused floor of Tartarus. He turned back to look at the woman in all her darkened glory. Something tugged at his memory.

She tilted her head and regarded him curiously, with a small smile on her lips.

"You are Styx, aren't you?", he asked, his voice raspy and broken from disuse. He remembered flashes of pain from having fallen into that particular river. He briefly looked at the river flowing beside him and moved away to a safe distance.

"Yes," she said, "Consider my surprise when I felt a demigod fall into the river, especially in Tartarus."

"Oh, I apologise for causing you any inconvenience. Would you rather I fall into a pit of actual acid?", he asked rhetorically.

"You don't need to hide behind your humour. It won't help you in Tartarus," Styx's form flickered, as did Percy's surroundings. He was definitely in a dream. And the goddess' comment tugged at his racing heart.

"I apologise. It is not easy conversing with you in a dream, especially when you have managed to fall into a land where the gods have no influence."

Percy tilted his head. "Then how are you doing this at all? If the gods have no influence?"

"I suppose it's because of my Titan heritage, but no matter. We don't have long."

Percy leaned forward slightly. Is this the part where she gives me some hint about a magical solution that will allow me to get to the Doors of Death unharmed?, he thought. When she made no move to offer him a solution, he visibly deflated. Why could things never be easy for him?

"When you wake up from this dream, you will have a choice to make, Perseus Jackson. Either let the waters of the Styx wash away what's left of your soul, or do what you did last year. Find an anchor and survive."

"Do you think I would've done all that I did in my life only to be killed in a river far away from home?", asked Percy. He wondered why the goddess thought he would even consider death as an option when there was clearly a better path which ensured that he would live and suffer through what the Fates had in store for him.

Oh, wait. Now he knew.

The goddess' face constricted. Percy held his breath.

"I don't think any hero wants to die, even you, with all you've been through. But is it really so presumptuous of me to assume that you would rather spend eternity away from monsters than with them in their homeland?"

She continued without waiting for an answer, a good thing considering the comment on the tip of Percy's tongue would have made him see her as Styx, the goddess of hatred, and not as Styx, the only goddess who had assumed that he had a choice in the matter.

"The last time you fell into my river, it was with the intention of bearing the Curse of Achilles. A Greek blessing was given and was soon taken away. This time, you had no thought to bear such a curse, but you will have it anyway if you choose to live. I do not know the consequence you will face as a result of what has happened to you in the past few months."

"What do you mean?", asked Percy, confused.

"You are a Greek demigod who has undergone the ancient trials, same as any other Roman. You bear the Praetor's mark and the mark of being trained under Lupa. A Greek blessing on one that shows promise of both sides will be a very volatile thing. There is no saying how the curse will affect you this time around, especially considering that you will be the first hero to bear it a second time."

Percy's eyes widened as he heard Styx speaking. He hadn't realised that his time with Lupa and at Camp Jupiter had really influenced him so much so as to make it unclear whether he was a Greek demigod or not.

Styx had paused, clearly waiting for a response. Percy's surroundings had started to leak away, until he could only see Styx sitting before a completely black background. She was flickering and Percy knew that he was losing precious time with his only source of information.

"What is happening out there? With Annabeth? With the quest? And why are you being so helpful?"

Styx gave him an almost sad smile. "Their quest goes on, as does your own. A new prophecy has come into play, Perseus, and it revolves around you. As for why I'm being helpful, I may be the goddess of hatred, but my own power revolves around the oaths of others. Poseidon has sworn an oath that he will likely be unable to keep. Your descent into Tartarus has brought quite a lot of problems to Olympus."

In the next second, she blinked out of existence, and Percy was still sitting in the darkness when he heard her voice again.

"I wish you luck, until the next time I see you. I've known your heart and mind ever since the day you fell into my river the first time. If there is any hero who can prevent the words of the prophecy from playing out, it is you, Percy, because you're the only one who could make them come true as well."

He winced when he processed the words, mentally screaming at the thought of another prophecy centering around him, but he didn't have time to dwell on it, because the pain came rushing back, and he opened his eyes once again to see his fingers dissolving into the surrounding liquid.

He looked up to the surface, wondering if he would see Annabeth again, just as he had the last time. He could still hear what she'd said to him the last time he'd felt like dying would be better than dealing with this pain.

Hold on, Seaweed Brain. You're not getting away from me that easily.

Percy squeezed his eyes shut to prevent his tears from leaking out. He'd left her, even though they had promised each other to never leave the other one again. He felt the faint brush of someone's hand against his, causing his eyes to snap open at once.

He could see her now. Her long blonde hair was framing her face in a way that was completely unlike her, but he liked seeing it blow with the wind. The sky behind her was bright with stars, and she appeared to glow in the moonlight. For that few seconds, he didn't care about the pain that nearly made him blackout.

He focused on the way she was smiling down at him, her hand breaking through the surface of the river to reach him underwater. He reached for her hand, and only clutched it tighter when he felt how solid and warm it was. She rolled her eyes at him, and Percy forgot the world around him when he focused on her grey eyes.

So sharp, and intelligent, and beautiful. Just like Annabeth.

Percy? Come back to me, okay?

As she pulled him up, she looked at him expectantly.

Okay, he tried to say, even as the foul water filled his mouth. He would do it for her. He would do it for them. He was Percy Jackson, and he had been through far too much to give up now.

Their cord would never break again. Their cord could never break again.

His face broke out through the surface of the river, and he hauled himself onto the shore. The pain had immediately dissipated but he looked down at the bright red colour of his arms. He didn't feel any different, but he knew that something had definitely changed.

Annabeth's words kept ringing in his ear.

Come back to me, okay?

Okay, okay, I will, he told himself, chanting it in his mind.

His skin returned to its normal colour, but Percy didn't pay attention to it. He savoured the memory of her smile, a smile which would always give him hope.

As he got to his feet, he hissed when he felt his skin tingle. He looked down at his arms, and was shocked to see blisters breaking out over them. His next breath went in, scorching his lungs. He clutched at his chest in fear. It hurt to breathe, it hurt his throat and his chest, but he could do it so long as it didn't kill him.

Maybe the Curse could help him after all.

He tried to walk, feeling his legs move as if made of jelly. It felt as though he'd run a marathon. He involuntarily flexed his fingers. He had just gone over a few steps when he looked back at the river in horror.

He'd lost Riptide in one of its currents.

Percy couldn't believe it. He'd lost the one weapon that could've helped him defeat the monsters in this place. He checked his pockets just to be sure, and kicked the ground when he realised that it hadn't returned. Maybe it never would.

Ultimately, Percy kept moving. He stopped looking at his arms, and did what he could to wipe the little amount of blood that oozed out of the many cuts on his arms and torso. Tartarus seemed very invested in giving him a slow death. Either that, or Tartarus couldn't care less about giving him a slow death.

He tried not to look at the regenerating forms of several monsters. He didn't even have a weapon to kill them with. He mutely registered the purple spikes emerging from the ground and into the air. He navigated as best as he could in the darkness.

Just when he felt too tired to move anymore, did he realise that not one monster had come his way. He'd certainly expected there to be a hoard of monsters on the lookout for a demigod, considering Nico di Angelo had been captured in the first place, but there was not a monster in sight.

He sunk to the hardened ground, putting his back against one of the fleshy walls that wound around Tartarus. His eyes had finally adjusted to the near darkness. In just this little time, he'd forgotten what it was like to breathe without feeling like your lungs were on fire.

Then, Percy heard a small growl somewhere next to him. He looked down and had to squint to look at the kitten-like creature next to him. He immediately scrambled to his feet, his hand feeling empty when it didn't have Riptide to hold onto.

A voice from the shadows then said, "Don't worry, child. The spartus won't hurt you, not unless you hurt it."

Spartus? Percy couldn't recall hearing a monster of that name before. He looked back down at the supposed 'spartus'. It didn't look ready to attack him, but Percy was now more concerned about the voice in the shadows.

"Who are you?", he asked in a voice little above a whisper. If there were other monsters moving about, he didn't want to draw any more attention to himself.

The female voice lightly chuckled. "I think the better question is asking you who you are. A son of the gods is not welcome here."

Percy rolled his eyes. As if he would voluntarily choose to go to a place where he would have no friends, only enemies.

The figure stepped out of the shadows, and Percy registered the faint glow that seemed to surround her. She looked radiant despite wearing faded white robes. She flicked her finger and the spartus went back to her side.

"It's a nice pet, is it not?", she asked, bending down to pet the kitten.

She looked up at Percy, as if looking for an answer, and her face morphed into one expressing shock, causing Percy to turn and see if there was anyone standing behind him.

Percy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He wondered what this woman looked so shocked about.

"You."

Percy stepped back after hearing the amount of hatred and pain the woman had put into that one word. He realised that it would be better for him to leave while he could, instead of waiting around for this woman to find a reason to kill him. He certainly hadn't liked the way she had reacted to his presence and he also needed to find the Doors of Death as soon as possible. He didn't know how much longer he could bear breathing in this air without receiving some divine medical assistance.

He started to back away slowly, as the woman continued to look at him with the same frozen expression. He turned around and was prepared to run, when the woman appeared right before him, her hands clutching his shirt.

"Percy Jackson. If you're here, it means it's starting."

Percy tried to pry her fingers away, which were fisted in his shirt in a death grip. He tried not to dwell on the fact that this woman knew exactly who he was. Did this have anything to do with the prophecy that Styx had mentioned?, he asked himself. He had not really given himself time to think about what that could mean for him. He had thought of employing the philosophy 'out of sight, out of mind' but no one was making it any easier for him to ignore the elephant in the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Who are you?"

She looked him dead in the eye, "A long time ago, I saw you and heard the prophecy you were linked to. I didn't think I would have to play a role in what you and your powers will do to my family, but the Fates are cruel."

She tilted her head to the side, her saddened eyes looking as if they were seeing something else. She seemed to have snapped out of whatever had shocked her.

"I am Phoebe, Titaness of Prophecy, and we have a lot to talk about."

Word Count: 3,300.

Date: 3rd March, 2021

References: This chapter uses direct quotes / relevant ideas from Rick Riordan's works like 'The Last Olympian', 'The Mark of Athena', 'The Dark Prophecy'.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you for the wonderful reviews and to all those who have chosen to follow / favourite this story from the little they had read. I cannot promise you an update schedule. I will post as and when I write and review a chapter, which may take a month or two. Until July of 2021, I will be busy with exams that will determine whether I can be a doctor, so I am afraid my updates will be sporadic. But I promise to write every moment that I am free and give you more content as soon as possible. Let me know what you think!