"Iapetus!" Hyperion bellowed. "Well, well. I thought you were hiding under a cleaning bucket somewhere."

Bob lumbered forward, scowling. "I was not hiding."

I waited, watching as my brother and Annabeth sneak around the titans. I myself didn't have a position to go, so I decided to stay as Bob's backup. Never thought I would say that.

Percy was crouched low, stepping as quietly as possible. Way too cautious, I must say. Annabeth had theorised that Hyperion would be able to sense Percy as Percy was the last one to have killed him in the mortal world, so she took on the side Hyperion was guarding. I wasn't sure how much of it was true, but I let them. They knew more than me when it came to this.

Bob faced his brethren. He planted his spear and tried to look as fierce as possible with a kitten on his shoulder. "Hyperion and Krios. I remember you both."

"Do you, Iapetus?" The blasted golden Titan laughed, glancing at Krios to share the joke. I wasn't even sure Krios understood the joke. I sure didn't. Oh wow, I really need those lessons about when is an appropriate time to think about these things. "Well, that's good to know! I heard Percy Jackson turned you into a brainwashed scullery maid. What did he rename you… Betty?" I tilted my head in confusion. Pretty sure Betty is a girl's name. Also, I was offended for my brother.

"Bob," snarled Bob. He was very attached to that name.

"Well, it's about time you showed up, Bob. Krios and I have been stuck here for weeks—"

"Hours," Krios corrected, his voice a deep rumble inside his helmet. I cringed at his voice.

"Whatever!" Hyperion said. "It's boring work, guarding these doors, shuffling monsters through at Gaia's orders. Krios, what's our next group, anyway?"

"Double Red," said Krios.

Hyperion sighed. The flames glowed hotter across his shoulders. I unconsciously glanced at my wrist. My healed wrist. "Double Red. Why do we go from A-22 to Double Red? What kind of system is that?" He glared at Bob like he might know the answer. If he did, I would like him to tell me. I also didn't get it. "This is no job for me—the Lord of Light! Titan of the East! Master of Dawn! Why am I forced to wait in the darkness while the giants go into battle and get all the glory? Now, Krios I can understand—"

"I get all the worst assignments," Krios muttered, his thumb still on the button. Is it the worst? From what I know, he gets all the guarding assignments. Boring, but important. Of course, with that attitude, he failed at all of them. He is still getting cursed by his brothers because he failed to guard me.

"But me?" Hyperion said. "Ridiculous! This should be your job, Iapetus. Here, take my place for a while."

Bob stared at the Doors, but his gaze was distant—lost in the past. Small Bob mewed. "The four of us held down our father, Ouranos," he recalled. Even I knew this probably wasn't the time to take a trip down the memory lane. Did I say it right? Luke taught me that. "Koios, and me, and the two of you. Kronos promised us mastery of the four corners of the earth for helping with the murder."

"Indeed," Hyperion said. "And I was happy to do it! I would've wielded the scythe myself if I'd had the chance! But you, Bob...you were always conflicted about that killing, weren't you? The soft Titan of the West, soft as the sunset! Why our parents named you the Piercer, I will never know. More like the Whimper." Whimper… I will show him a whimper.

Percy had reached the anchor hook, uncapping the weird thing. I still haven't learned the name. Still, his sword appeared. Krios didn't react. His attention was firmly fixed on Bob, who had just levelled the point of his spear at Hyperion's chest.

"I can still pierce," Bob said, his voice low and even. "You brag too much, Hyperion. You are bright and fiery, but Percy Jackson defeated you anyway. I hear you became a nice tree in Central Park." Oh? It was Percy? I suppose that's a better story than being defeated by a bunch of satyrs whom I could've burnt to a crisp at any time. Then again, I'm giving the satyrs enough credit.

Hyperion's eyes smouldered. "Careful, brother."

"At least a janitor's work is honest," Bob said with disgust. "I clean up after others. I leave the palace better than I found it. But you… you do not care what messes you make. You followed Kronos blindly. Now you take orders from Gaia."

"She is our mother!" Hyperion bellowed.

"She did not wake for our war on Olympus," Bob recalled. "She favours her second brood, the giants."

Krios grunted. "That's true enough. The children of the pit."

"Both of you hold your tongues!" Hyperion's voice was tinged with fear. I like that. "You never know when he is listening."

The elevator dinged. All three Titans jumped. I grunted as I was jostled. Dammit Bob!

Krios took his finger off the button and called out, "Double Red! Where is Double Red?"

I glanced back. Hordes of monsters stirred and jostled one another, but none of them came forward.

Krios heaved a sigh. "I told them to hang on to their tickets. Double Red! You'll lose your place in the queue!" How that sounded completely normal was beyond me.

I glanced back at Annabeth. I saw her as she was, but I suppose she would've looked like a ghoul.

She and Percy were having their silent conversations again, as she held up her dagger and raised three fingers with her other hand.

Hyperion muttered a curse. "Just wonderful. This will completely mess up our schedule." He sneered at Bob. "Make your choice, brother. Fight us or help us. I don't have time for your lectures."

Bob glanced at Annabeth and Percy. I placed a hand on his arm, warning him not to do anything rashly. He didn't acknowledge me, but he did raise the point of his spear. "Very well. I will take guard duty. Which of you wants a break first?"

"Me, of course," Hyperion said arrogantly.

"Me!" Krios snapped. "I've been holding that button so long my thumb is going to fall off."

"I've been standing here longer," Hyperion grumbled. "You two guard the Doors while I go up to the mortal world. I have some Greek heroes to wreak vengeance upon!"

"Oh, no!" Krios complained. "That Roman boy is on his way to Epirus—the one who killed me on Mount Othrys. Got lucky, he did. Now it's my turn." The Roman… I remember there being a lot of people when I went to find Nico. Who is the Roman boy? Wait, wasn't there two Roman boys? And a Roman girl, but still.

"Bah!" Hyperion drew his sword. "I'll gut you first, Ram-head!" Reaaaally creative, Hyperion. This is also why I cherish Percy's and my relationship. Hyperion and Krios are clear examples of brotherly relationships gone wrong.

Krios raised his own blade. "You can try, but I won't be stuck in this stinking pit any longer!"

Annabeth and Percy took advantage of their distraction. They raised their weapons higher. I also straightened, hand over Prodido. Before they could strike, a high-pitched whine pierced my ears, like the sound of an incoming rocket. Ah, fuck.

I was thrown aside. An explosion rocked the hillside. Before I could regain my footing, something grabbed onto my back, yanking me down. My hand snapped back, and I felt myself falling. It was like hands all over my body, dragging me down. I cursed out loud. Physically, I tried to pull free of them. If only it would be that easy. Everytime I ripped through one of them, it felt like twice as many took its place. I would've easily burnt all of them, but it didn't help that they were made of fire themselves. I had a high pain tolerance, but even I couldn't help it. Being burnt wasn't a nice feeling. I gasped in pain as they tore through me. I felt Chaos's blessing swirling in me, healing me as quickly as possible, but not fast enough. Spots danced in my eyes. I felt dry, dryer than ever. A burning sensation was everywhere. It hurt, even to move. I fell to the ground. Dimly, I noticed a dark shrapnel ripping through Krios and Hyperion, shredding them as easily as wood in a chipper.

STINKING PIT. A hollow voice rolled across the plains, shaking the warm fleshy ground.

Bob staggered to his feet. Somehow the explosion hadn't touched him. He swept his spear in front of him, trying to locate the source of the voice. Small Bob the kitten crawled into his coveralls. "Andy?"

"No." It was hard not to scream as I pushed the word to the surface. "Percy… Annabeth…" I couldn't say anymore, but he understood me just fine. I concentrated on just putting the fires out, but it was constantly on me, making me want to stop and just curl into a ball. No… just… focus…

The last time my whole body was burnt, they wanted to keep me alive. In a way, I could rely on them to heal me. Now, they would contribute to the fire in an attempt to kill me. I breathed in a harsh breath, the scent of smoke filling my nostrils. This time, I had to do things myself. And I had to act fast. I felt myself sinking even though I was pretty sure I hit the ground ages ago. If I don't free myself, I just might join Krios and Hyperion in eternal pain and anguish.

Closing my eyes, I dove right into my power source. Chaos is the First, he told me himself. No fire could outmatch his own. I felt lightheaded, but I pushed past that feeling. I imagined a thousand hands, each holding onto every vine that connected me to the fire, and pulling. Was that a tug? I think it was. If I was right, this is Tartarus's power. I had to go beyond what I did with Akhlys. So I continued, pulling against the vines with my imaginary hands. A scream escaped me as I was caught by surprise. Imagine a leech stuck to your skin. Now imagine it large enough to cover your entire back, the back of your hands and legs and neck. Now imagine it being forcefully ripped from your skin. Then add fire burning against your tender skin. At about, say, a thousand degrees.

The pain was a hundred times worse.

Worse of all, that was the sensation I felt every time one of them was pulled out. Tears flowed down freely as I forced myself to continue. Freeing myself was worse than the original pain. I cast a shield around me, so the fiery vines couldn't reconnect. Occasionally, I felt a pressure on my throat, choking me. The first time only lasted a few seconds, but the duration grew longer as I stayed in this torture. I screamed again as I felt Tartarus battling me, fighting to break the shield. Why now? I struggled to free myself, struggled to quicken the process, but I felt myself slow as the pain started to invade me mentally. They batted against my walls, trying to enter that mental box of pain. The box I kept years of mental and physical pain and torture under, so I could act unbothered on the outside. I snapped my head to the side, screaming as I forcibly pushed it all out.

Tartarus laughed against my ear. What's the point of fighting? He seemed to whisper. Submit, little demigod, and maybe, just maybe, I will let the puny child of Poseidon go. Let go of your shields. Allow me through. There will be less pain on your part. Is that not what you want?

"If you offered that to me ten years ago, maybe I would have accepted." Somehow, I found the strength to say. "But do not mistake me as the young toddler the Titans' kidnapped all those years ago. One thing I think everyone should know about us children of Poseidon: the word 'submit' isn't in our vocabulary."

Tartarus roared in fury as I tore through the last few vines. His presence vanished. I opened my eyes.

The first thing I realised: it's so dark.

The second: I am definitely not in his heart right now.

I remember sinking… could that be why? Everything I felt just now had a reason. The burning - the vines. The choking - Tartarus. Where am I?

I suddenly doubled over, coughing out either saliva or blood, holding onto my stomach. My legs failed me, and I fell to my knees, my free hand stopping my face from planting the ground. I couldn't feel anything. I felt weak. Weak beyond anything. When I tried to find Chaos's blessing in my veins, it wasn't there.

Why now? It didn't make sense. Was it because Tartarus liked how I was forever in his grasp before? That he acted now because he didn't want me to spread tales of how I escaped him?

It didn't make sense, but it didn't have to. All that matters right now was finding my way back to his heart. Back to Percy and Annabeth. Her face appeared, the grey eyes and blonde hair. The determined look whenever she put herself in danger. I didn't know when I became concerned about her. I didn't know when I considered her a friend—my best friend, but it really didn't say much—but it felt right, like she was someone I could never imagine living without. It wasn't a love like Percy had for her, but it was a fondness, an adoration for a friend. Heck, a sister even. Right now, as I felt myself weakening, dying even, I knew. I would perish for both of them. It would be worth it. Everything would be worth it if they lived.

It will not have to come to that. Chaos's voice filled my surroundings. I coughed one more time. Rise, my champion. Do not let my son bring you down.

As I listened to him, I realised. The reason why I couldn't sense his blessing…was because it wasn't in me. It was around me. It was a space. A mental space. I bet I didn't really sink in reality, it was just my thoughts.

Heal. He commanded. Rest, my champion. Do not rush. I cannot heal you if you rush.

My Lord, my brother needs me. I argued.

Look around, Andromeda. For once, his voice was no nonsense, strict. You are asleep. You are wasted from Akhlys and if I had not lent you my strength, you would have burnt yourself completely, immortal or not. Your brother is still fighting, he can defend himself. You cannot help him, not yet. Here, you have not tasted the true feeling of the seriousness of your burns. You can barely walk. You would be more of a distraction rather than a help.

Those were the brutal truths.

If you are to walk out of this alive with your brother and friend, you need to be wise, Andromeda, not rash. Chaos continued more gently. You are so close. Do not throw it all away. Close your eyes. You don't always have to be the hero, saving everyone. Let others shine for you instead.

Percy POV

As Annabeth and I were about to cut the chains, I saw almost the worst thing in my life. Hands erupting from the ground reaching for my sister from behind. She was pulled from where she stood, as they grabbed her. As I watched, she was pulled back from where she stood, falling back. Somehow, despite there being hundreds of flaming hands on her back, she managed to fight back. That should reassure me, but it didn't. There was one of her, and hundreds of them. A scream came from her, shaking my entire core. And that distracted me.

I could've cut through the chains, but because I hesitated, that second passed and suddenly, an explosion rocked the hillside.

I was knocked backwards as a new voice rolled across the plains, snaking the warm, fleshy ground. STINKING PIT. Somehow, I didn't think it was a parrot.

Annabeth was also thrown aside, landing about twenty feet from the Doors. When she stood, I was so relieved she was alive it took me a moment to realise she looked like herself. The Death Mist had evaporated.

I looked at my own hands. Mine was gone too. Ah shit.

TITANS, said the voice disdainfully. LESSER BEINGS. IMPERFECT AND

WEAK.

In front of the Doors of Death, the air darkened and solidified. The being who appeared was so massive, radiating such pure malevolence, that I wanted to crawl away and hide.

Instead, I forced my eyes to trace the god's form, starting with his black iron boots, each one as large as a coffin. His legs were covered in dark greaves; his flesh all thick purple muscle, like the ground. His armoured skirt was made from thousands of blackened, twisted bones, woven together like chain links and clasped in place by a belt of interlocking monstrous arms.

On the surface of the warrior's breastplate, murky faces appeared and submerged—giants, Cyclopes, gorgons, and drakons—all pressing against the armour as if trying to get out.

The warrior's arms were bare—muscular, purple, and glistening—his hands as large as crane scoops.

Worst of all was his head: a helmet of twisted rock and metal with no particular shape—just jagged spikes and pulsing patches of magma. His entire face was a whirlpool—an inward spiral of darkness. As I watched, the last particles of Titan essence from Hyperion and Krios were vacuumed into the warrior's maw.

My throat was so dry, but I found my voice. "Tartarus."

The warrior made a sound like a mountain cracking in half: a roar or a laugh, I couldn't be sure.

This form is only a small manifestation of my power, said the god. But it is enough to deal with you. I do not interfere lightly, little demigod. It is beneath me to deal with gnats such as yourself.

He turned his head to where Andromeda was. As I followed his gaze, I saw her struggling against the stupid hands that now I realise he had summoned. They were pulling her to the ground, but she seemed to be doing a hella good job not giving in.

My father's champion is a distraction that I will deal with later. Tartarus said with almost disgust. How he can favour such a weak girl is beyond me.

My temper flared. He did not get to call her that.

You have proven surprisingly resilient, Tartarus said. You have come too far. I can no longer stand by and watch your progress.

Tartarus spread his arms. Throughout the valley, thousands of monsters wailed and roared, clashing their weapons and bellowing in triumph. The Doors of Death shuddered in their chains.

Be honoured, little demigods, said the god of the pit. Even the Olympians were never worthy of my personal attention. But you will be destroyed by Tartarus himself!

I wasn't feeling honoured at all.