(Credit Rick Riordan for PJ&O and Heroes of Olympus)

Chapter 2 - A Thousand Deaths

(POV: Percy Jackson)

When I came to, I was somewhere darker, colder. My wrists and ankles were bound with chains that were cold, unyielding, and felt like they were made to punish me rather than contain me. The damp stone walls of the cell echoed with the silence of my imprisonment, as if even the walls themselves had given up. The air in the room was heavy, thick with the scent of mildew, and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling made my head throb.

How long had it been since they caught me? Hours? Days? I couldn't tell. Time had lost meaning here, trapped in the suffocating quiet. I tugged at the chains again, just for the hell of it. No use. No way out. They'd done a good job with this one. My powers felt... distant. It was like the sea itself had abandoned me, leaving me as helpless as a landlocked mortal.

I tried to focus, tried to remember what had happened before they captured me, but my mind kept slipping. The last thing I remembered clearly was the fight. A battle, no doubt. A fight I had thought I could win. Guess I was wrong about that one.

A deep growl, low and primal, rumbled through the stone beneath me, making the chains rattle slightly. My heart skipped. I wasn't alone anymore.

Footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate, growing louder with each passing second. Someone was coming. I wasn't sure if it was just some guard, or if it was something worse, something far darker. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

The door creaked open. I tensed, bracing myself for whatever or whoever was coming. Then, a shadow filled the doorway. A figure, tall and ominous, shrouded in a cloak that seemed to absorb the light itself.

The moment I saw the figure, I knew exactly who it was.

Kronos.

His presence filled the room like an immense storm cloud, dark and oppressive, suffocating the air with the weight of his power. I felt the coldness of his gaze even from a distance, like the stare of something ancient, cruel, and unstoppable. Time itself seemed to bend and warp in his presence.

I should have expected him, but seeing him standing there, his presence filling the space, made my chest tighten. His very aura felt like time itself was bending under his control. He didn't need to say anything, didn't need to do anything. Just standing there, he was an overwhelming force, and for a split second, I wondered if there was even a point in trying to fight.

"Well, well, Perseus," Kronos said, his voice a low, taunting rumble. "Look at you. All chained up. All alone. I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed. I thought you'd put up more of a fight."

I clenched my jaw, glaring at him. "What do you want, Kronos?"

He stepped into the room slowly, his eyes glowing with cruel amusement. "What do I want?" He repeated, as if the question was somehow amusing to him. "I want to see how long it takes before the great hero crumbles. I want to see just how much it takes to break you. Because, you see, Perseus, you're not the indestructible force you think you are. Not anymore."

I gritted my teeth, pulling against the chains again, though I knew it was useless. "You don't scare me."

Kronos tilted his head, a mocking smile twisting his lips. "No, no, you're not scared. I can see it. You're angry. You're frustrated. You're trying so hard to keep that little spark of defiance alive, aren't you?" His eyes glinted, dark and cold. "But here's the thing, Perseus... Defiance doesn't last forever. Not when time is your enemy."

I couldn't help but flinch at that. Time. The one thing I could never escape. I knew what he was doing—what he was trying to do. He was playing with me, slowly wearing me down, turning my own mind against me. He wanted to see me lose hope. To see me break.

"You've been through so much, haven't you?" Kronos continued, pacing slowly around the room, his voice smooth like silk, each word dripping with venom. "You've fought so many battles. You've saved the world a few times. But you know, Perseus... You were always just one mistake away from it all falling apart. One misstep, and it all comes crashing down. And now, look at you." He stopped in front of me, his eyes locked on mine, cold as steel. "Here you are. A broken hero. A little boy who thought he could change fate."

I shook my head, trying to push the doubt away, but it was hard. He was right. Wasn't he? I had always fought for something—always had some purpose, some goal to reach for. But now, in this place, all of that felt distant. Like the very thing that made me me was slipping away.

"Fate doesn't care about you, Perseus," Kronos continued, his tone almost tender, as if he were offering me a twisted form of comfort. "All your little victories, all your petty struggles—they don't matter. You will never escape your destiny. You will never escape me."

He stepped closer, looming over me, his voice dropping to a whisper, full of mockery. "It's almost sad, really. You were so full of potential. So full of promise. And now, look at you. Chained. Defenseless. Alone. How much longer do you think you can keep that fight alive?"

I gritted my teeth, refusing to let him see how much his words stung. "I'm not broken yet."

Kronos chuckled, the sound low and cruel. "Oh, you're so close, Perseus. So close. It's like watching a fire slowly die out, piece by piece. All it takes is a little time, and you'll realize that all the fighting you've done, all the pain you've endured—it was all for nothing. You'll see that in the end, you were always meant to fail."

His words sliced through me like daggers, each one finding a wound I didn't know was there. The chains seemed to tighten around my wrists, and the air in the room grew heavier, colder. I could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on me, and the longer he spoke, the more I felt myself slipping.

He was right, wasn't he? Maybe I was just a fool for thinking I could make a difference. Maybe everything I'd fought for was just... pointless.

"You'll break, Perseus," Kronos said, almost lovingly. "Everyone does, eventually. It's just a matter of time."

I clenched my fists, trying to hold on to whatever was left inside me. "I won't break."

His smile widened, the darkness in his eyes growing stronger. "Oh, you will. It's just a matter of time."

And with that, he stepped back, leaving me in the suffocating silence, his words echoing in my mind, breaking down every defense I had left.

The days—or weeks, I couldn't tell—blurred into a nightmare. Kronos didn't just want to kill me. That would have been too easy. He wanted to break me.

The monsters that had captured me acted as his enforcers, dragging me before him each day. He would sneer down at me from his makeshift throne on the other end of the room, watching as his minions lashed at me with barbed whips or plunged me into pools of acid that clung to my skin.

But the worst part wasn't the physical pain. It was the way Kronos got into my head.

He replayed my worst memories—Luke's betrayal, Bianca's death, my mother's capture by the Minotaur—over and over, twisting them until I couldn't tell what was real anymore. He made me see Annabeth falling into the pit, screaming my name as I let her go.

"She's gone because of you," he hissed one day, leaning in close. "You're weak, Percy Jackson. You always have been."

I tried to fight him, to hold onto the truth, but every passing day wore me down. The chains that bound me seemed to sap my strength, feeding on my hope.

If you'd asked me before, I'd have told you that there's only so much a person can take before they break. Now, I wasn't so sure. Kronos seemed determined to find out just how much I could endure.

Each day—if days even existed here—was the same. Torture, degradation, and the promise that this hell would never end.

But they wouldn't let me die. Oh no, that would've been too easy.

The first time it happened, I thought it was some twisted mercy. After a particularly brutal session, when my body was shredded and burned beyond recognition, they dragged me to another room which appeared like a bath, but had bubbling black water instead.

Two Cyclopes grunted as they hoisted me into the water, tossing me in like a sack of garbage.

The pain was immediate, like ice-cold fire searing every nerve in my body. I screamed as the dark liquid seeped into my wounds, burning away the rot but leaving my flesh raw and new.

When I finally clawed my way back to the shore, my skin was healed, but I felt weaker than ever. My powers, my connection to the sea—they didn't work here. This wasn't my water. It was Tartarus' water.

And I realized then: they weren't healing me out of kindness. They were healing me so they could break me all over again.