(Credit Rick Riordan for PJ and Heroes of Olympus)

Chapter 5 - Into the Depths

(POV: Percy Jackson)

I didn't speak much after that. Bob didn't seem to mind the silence. Together, we moved out of the shrine, back into the crushing weight of Tartarus. The oppressive air felt heavier now, but I wasn't as afraid.

The nightmares were just that—dreams. As long as I stayed focused, as long as I kept moving, I could escape them.

We kept walking for a while, but something in me—something deep down—made me pause. I stopped abruptly, my boots crunching on the blackened earth, and I turned to Bob, who had already taken a few steps ahead of me.

"Hold up," I said, my voice quieter than usual.

Bob stopped, glancing back at me. His expression was unreadable, but I could tell he wasn't going to push me to continue if I wasn't ready.

I took a slow breath, trying to clear my head. The weight of the journey, the endless pain of Tartarus, had been pressing down on me for so long that I hadn't given myself a moment to breathe, to think. But now, the silence felt like a call for reflection.

The situation was overwhelming. Tartarus itself was a force that seemed beyond anyone's control—except, perhaps, Kronos' and the monsters who had made their homes here. But what about the world above? What was happening there, while I was stuck in this hellhole?

I thought back to the last moments before I fell. The Mark of Athena, the quest, the terrifying feeling that things were falling apart. I had no idea what was happening at Camp Half-Blood. What was Annabeth doing? Was she still alive? Was she fighting the monsters, or had something worse happened to her?

I clenched my fists at my sides. The idea that I could do nothing to help my friends, my family, made the walls of Tartarus seem even higher, even more impossible to scale. I had no way of contacting them, no way of knowing if they were even safe. The gods? They had abandoned us when we needed them most.

The prophecy, the one that had haunted my every step, was still alive, still haunting me even here. Was I part of it? Was this my fate? To be stuck in Tartarus, forgotten by everyone?

I rubbed my face, trying to push the thoughts aside.

"Bob," I said finally, my voice tinged with frustration, "What's going on up there? Do you think... do you think they know I'm down here? Or are they just waiting for us to fail?"

Bob's response was slow, careful. "The world above… it is always in motion. Heroes fight, gods act, monsters stir. You are not forgotten. But you must act. You must move."

I nodded, though I didn't feel the weight of his words sink in immediately. The problem was bigger than that. I was stuck here. I couldn't help anyone if I couldn't get out.

I sat down on a large, jagged rock, trying to calm my mind. The sensation of being in this place—the uncertainty, the constant threat of monsters, and the realization that I was probably the only one who knew the way out—was eating at me. It felt like I was caught in some kind of loop: wake up, fight, run, survive, and repeat. But I needed a way to break the cycle. I needed a plan.

I thought back to Kronos' taunting voice, his smug assurance that there was no escape, that I would always fail. He was wrong.

I wasn't going to let him win.

But how?

I looked down at Riptide, now more a part of me than ever. My armor—once only a faint reminder of who I was—now felt like a tangible piece of my identity, my will to keep fighting. The fire arrows on my back, the strange knife, even the cloak… all of it was more than just tools. They were pieces of a larger puzzle.

But I still had no idea how to get out of here.

And the questions swirled in my head, unanswered: Was the Doors of Death the way out? Did I have the strength to reach them? Could Bob and I even find them in this nightmare of a place?

Time seemed to stretch on for what felt like hours, but it was hard to say. Tartarus didn't abide by the rules of the world I used to know. There were no sunsets, no clocks ticking. Only the oppressive feeling of eternal darkness and silence.

I stared into the void, lost in thought. My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn't stop. If the gods weren't going to intervene, it was up to me—and Bob, who had been nothing short of an ally in this nightmare. But even with his help, I knew I couldn't do this alone.

Then there was the prophecy. It hung in the air like a fog, a weight that never went away. I didn't want to think about it, but it was impossible to ignore. Would I fail? Would I sacrifice myself? Was I going to be the one to bring the end, like Kronos had said?

My chest tightened.

"Bob," I said again, my voice more thoughtful this time. "Do you think the gods even care anymore? I mean, what's the point of being a hero if you're just going to be abandoned in the end?"

Bob turned to face me, his gaze steady. "Heroes do not act for gods. They act for those who need them. You act for friends, for family, for the world. The gods do not always see. But you must see. You must choose your path."

I closed my eyes, feeling his words settle into my chest.

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "I can't keep running. The gods—they—have no hope of facing Gaia and the giants alone. They're too divided. Too scattered."

Bob tilted his head slightly, his massive form dwarfed by the towering walls of Tartarus. His expression didn't change, but I could tell he was waiting for me to continue.

"I've seen it. I've felt it. They're not ready. If we're going to survive this, we need to do more than just run to the Doors of Death. We need... something else. Something they don't have." I paused, the idea forming slowly in my mind. "I'm not going to make it out of here on my own. Not without learning something from Tartarus."

Bob's silence hung in the air for a beat, the only sound being the distant, eerie howls of monsters lurking in the shadows. Finally, he spoke, his deep voice thoughtful. "What knowledge do you seek, Percy Jackson?"

I looked down at the ground, my fingers tightening around Riptide as I considered the question. This place—this hellhole—was more than just a prison. Tartarus had existed before the gods, before even the first Titans. It was the birthplace of chaos itself. It had knowledge older than anything I could imagine, and some of that knowledge could give me an edge. It might not even be about the Doors of Death at all.

Maybe Tartarus had something the gods didn't know. Maybe it had a way to fight Gaia.

I turned back to Bob, my mind racing. "I need to find something here. Something that could tip the balance. There has to be ancient weapons or knowledge locked away in this place. If Gaia's going to rise, we need to understand how to stop her. And if the gods are too weak, then it's up to us to find another way."

Bob nodded, as if my words made sense. "Tartarus holds much. Ancient things, forgotten things. Some things best left alone."

I raised an eyebrow, a shiver running down my spine. "Well, we're not exactly here for a vacation. And I'm not going to let fear stop me."

Bob seemed to consider this for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "I know a place. It is dangerous, Percy Jackson. But it holds knowledge... things from before the gods."

I felt a surge of anticipation mixed with unease. The path ahead was unknown, but if Bob knew a place where ancient secrets lay hidden, then maybe it was worth the risk.

"What kind of place?" I asked, my voice steady despite the knot of fear in my stomach.

"Where time and space do not bend as they do in other parts of Tartarus," Bob said slowly, "A library of sorts. But not like any mortal library. It is a place of forgotten histories, lost magic, and whispers of gods long gone."

A library. It sounded almost too good to be true. In a place like Tartarus, filled with monsters and darkness, there was no way to know whether this library would be filled with dangerous knowledge or powerful tools that could help us. But it was worth the gamble. If there was anything that could give us the upper hand in the war against Gaia, it would be something from before even the gods rose to power.

I clenched my jaw, a decision settling in my gut. "Take me there."

Bob's golden eyes gleamed with approval. "It will not be easy. The path is treacherous. And once we are there, you must be cautious. Not all knowledge in Tartarus is meant to be understood. Some things are better left forgotten."

I didn't hesitate. "I'll take my chances."

Bob led the way, his massive figure moving with purpose through the crushing silence of Tartarus. The air seemed even heavier now, thick with the scent of sulfur and decay. The deeper we went, the more I felt the oppressive weight of the place pressing against me, threatening to crush me under its sheer enormity.

We navigated through winding caverns, the jagged rocks cutting into the soles of my boots, the darkness swallowing us whole. But there was something about Bob's calm demeanor that gave me a sense of direction. It felt like he knew this place better than anyone—maybe even better than the Titans themselves.

As we walked, I tried to keep my thoughts focused. The task ahead was overwhelming. If I found the knowledge I was seeking, it could change everything. But there were risks. Tartarus didn't just hold knowledge. It twisted it. The deeper we delved, the more I realized that the price for gaining this power might be higher than I was ready to pay.

The further we went, the more the environment around us shifted. The ground beneath my feet became uneven, and the air grew thick with a strange, pulsing energy. It felt like we were walking through an abyss that had no end. I could see the River Acheron and lands beyond in which darkness and night prevailed.

Then, just when I thought the journey would never end, I saw it.

A massive, cavernous opening appeared before us, flanked by towering columns that seemed to reach up forever. Inside, I could make out faint shapes, a large greek-styled entrance flanked with columns. As we approached the columns were lined in languages from long ago. The frieze contained images of what I could best guess to be monsters, battles, and other events forgotten ages ago.

Bob and I approached the wide entrance of this place. Although much was unreadable, there was one inscription that could be read - Κρυπτόν Σῶμα, the Krypton Soma, or in English:

"The Hidden Body," Bob whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness. "Be careful, Percy."

I nodded, swallowing hard. The weight of the place was heavy in the air, but I couldn't turn back now.