(Credit Rick Riordan for PJ&O and Heroes of Olympus)
Chapter 6 - The Hidden Body
The air inside this place was unlike any other place I had encountered in Tartarus. The temperature dropped as soon as we crossed the threshold, sending a shiver down my spine. But it wasn't the cold that made this place feel eerie—it was the vastness. The darkness here was thick and consuming, wrapping itself around us like a living thing, as if the very walls were alive with knowledge, secrets, and memories long forgotten.
Bob had explained to me that The Hidden Body was more than just a library—it was a hidden place comprised of the body of knowledge itself. The term "body" wasn't used lightly. The entire space seemed to pulse with the weight of eons of ancient truths, of lost gods, and forgotten histories. It was as though the knowledge contained here had a life of its own, its heart beating in the silence of the shelves, waiting for someone—anyone—to seek it out. It was a crypt, a sanctuary, and a tomb all in one. But unlike a tomb for the dead, this was a tomb for what had been buried: the old world's deepest secrets, the things that should have been lost to time but instead had been hidden away in the recesses of Tartarus.
Bob led the way with purpose, his massive form a solid beacon in the midst of the darkness. The light from Riptide's glow barely made a dent in the overwhelming shadows, casting a faint golden circle around us, but it was enough for me to see the polished stone floor beneath our feet and the distant outlines of towering shelves filled with ancient scrolls, tablets, and books, their covers cracked and yellowed with age. The smell of musty parchment filled the air, along with something metallic and ancient, like the scent of time itself.
We passed row after row of shelves, each one laden with what seemed like a lifetime's worth of knowledge—scrolls, books, and ancient texts inscribed with runes I could barely comprehend. Each step we took seemed to sink us deeper into the weight of the place. Every book, every scroll, felt like it was staring at me, its eyes watching, waiting for me to discover something I wasn't prepared to know. My breath hitched as I reached out instinctively to touch one of the books, but Bob's hand was quick, stopping me before I could make contact.
"No, Percy," he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of caution I hadn't expected from him. "Some of these are dangerous. We're not here to disturb things that don't need disturbing."
I retracted my hand, the disappointment sharp in my chest. What kind of knowledge did these books hold? Could they help us in our fight against Gaia, or were they better left untouched? I couldn't help but wonder what the price of learning the wrong thing in this place might be.
We moved further into the library, deeper into the suffocating darkness. As we walked, the silence grew heavier, the vastness of the place making everything feel impossibly far away. Bob was the only light in this ocean of shadow, his figure barely visible in the distance as I followed behind. My sword's faint glow became the only thing tethering me to reality, the only anchor in a place that felt as though it could swallow us whole.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we reached a new section, where a large stone pedestal stood. It was worn down by centuries of neglect, the surface cracked and grooved with age. But on top of the pedestal, nestled carefully in the center, was a single book. It was large, its cover dark and gleaming faintly under the meager light from my sword. The air around it felt charged, as though the book itself held the power to change the course of everything.
Bob paused in front of it, his eyes fixed on the book as though he had been searching for it his entire existence. There was something heavy in the way he stared at it—something personal, like he had finally found a piece of himself.
"This is it," Bob said quietly, his voice filled with awe.
I stepped forward, heart racing. "What's in it, Bob? What does it say?"
Bob didn't answer right away. He just stood there, his hand hovering over the cover as though testing its weight, feeling the ancient energy emanating from it. Finally, he looked at me, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes.
"This book holds the truth about what's really happening," Bob said softly, his voice reverberating through the cold stone walls. "About Gaia's rise... about the gods, the Titans, and how everything is falling apart. It's all here, Percy. The answers."
I swallowed hard. This was it. The book that could change everything.
But as Bob opened it, the temperature in the room dropped even further, and a strange chill ran through me. The pages shimmered unnaturally, glowing faintly with an ethereal light that had nothing to do with the glow of my sword. As Bob began to read, the words seemed to vibrate with power, resonating in the silence of the library. The air felt heavy, charged with something ancient and dangerous.
"The gods... too weak," Bob murmured, his eyes scanning the text. "Gaia's rise... unstoppable…"
The words struck me like a physical blow. My heart tightened, the fear I had been trying to hold at bay finally surfacing.
"We're too late," Bob continued, his voice growing quieter. "The gods can't stop her, Percy. If we don't do something... the world is doomed."
The words echoed in the oppressive silence of the shadowy library, and I could feel the weight of them pressing down on me. There was no denying it. Bob was right. The gods were losing. And we might not have much time left.
I wasn't ready to accept it. I couldn't. But deep down, I knew the truth.
As we moved deeper into this dark complex, the air grew heavier with an unspoken weight. Then, we came upon it—the mural. It wasn't like anything I had ever seen before. The artwork stretched across the stone wall in a massive, almost dizzying spiral. The lines weren't sharp or rigid; instead, they curved and coiled like tendrils of smoke, flowing in on themselves. It was as if the story had been written in a circle, its edges meeting where they began. A continuous loop that seemed endless, without any clear beginning or end.
At the heart of the mural, the first image was that of chaos—darkness, swirling in the center of the spiral. The void, where nothing existed, radiated outward, slowly coiling and twisting, drawing in the very fabric of the world. From that emptiness, the primordial beings began to emerge, their forms ethereal and shifting, almost as if they were being created by the lines of the mural itself. The design curved around them, as if they were not standing still, but always in motion, always a part of the flow.
As the spiral widened, the Titans appeared—Kronos at the center, towering above the others. His image was fierce, his hand raised as he commanded the earth and sky, but even as he stood victorious, there was something strange in the way the design framed him. His victory wasn't permanent, it seemed. The spiral curved around him, moving forward, just as it had with the primordial beings. He was part of the flow, just as they were. There was no clear finality to his reign.
The Olympians followed, rising in the next section of the spiral, battling their father and the Titans. The battle scenes were rich and vivid, each figure in sharp contrast against the darkness, their power almost palpable. But even as the gods triumphed, their images began to soften at the edges, almost as if time itself was already wearing them down, pushing them toward the next loop. They weren't invincible, after all. The spiral continued, their faces and forms fading slightly as they moved outward, becoming part of something larger.
As the mural wound further, the images of the Olympians started to fade, their figures becoming blurred, distant. The victory they had claimed so proudly now seemed uncertain, like the world around them was beginning to slip away. There was no dramatic fall, no epic battle to mark the end of their reign. Instead, the spiral simply led them into a place where their images became less defined, as if time had stretched them thin.
And then, as the spiral reached its outermost edge, the design stopped. But not in the way you'd expect. There was no dramatic final image, no sense of closure. The space at the very end of the mural was empty. Not an absence of space, but a deliberate, open gap. An unfinished moment in the flow, as if the mural had run out of room—left incomplete, as though the history had no end yet to tell.
I stood in front of the mural, the silence pressing in around me. My eyes traced the spiral, trying to make sense of it. It wasn't just a timeline, not in the usual sense. It was something else. It was as if the mural was telling me that history wasn't a straight line—it was a cycle, always circling back, always starting over. But that empty space at the end… it felt different. Like something was missing. Or maybe something was waiting.
Bob stood next to me, staring at the empty space, his gaze unreadable. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm.
"They think their story is over. But there's still more to come."
I nodded, not entirely sure what he meant, but feeling the truth of it all the same. There was something about that open space. Something about the way the spiral had no clear end. The gods had their time, and now their reign was fading, but what came next? What would fill the empty gap?
The mural didn't offer any answers. It just left it there, an open invitation to whatever would come after.
As I stood there, my mind raced, trying to process what I was seeing. The mural, the circular design—it wasn't just a record of history. It felt more like a warning, an inevitable cycle. The primordial chaos giving birth to the Titans, the Olympians rising, their eventual fading, and then… the empty space at the end. It all pointed to one thing: Time.
I couldn't escape the thought, the nagging sense that this was more than just a story about gods, monsters, or mortal lives. It was about the force behind it all. The thing that shaped everything. Time.
If Gaia won, everything would just keep spinning in this endless, unyielding loop. There would be more battles, more deaths, more rises and falls. Each cycle would eventually lead to nothing—just like the beginning. The chaos, the darkness, the void. It was as though everything would be swallowed up by time itself, until nothing remained. That empty space in the mural—it wasn't just a gap; it was a void waiting to be filled, and if Gaia rose, there would be nothing left to fill it but more death, more destruction. More time passing, devouring everything in its path.
The thought pressed heavily on my chest. I felt the weight of it all. We were all caught in a current we couldn't escape. The gods couldn't defeat Gaia; they were too weak, fading in power just as those who preceded them did. The monsters would keep coming, the wars would continue, and the world would crumble, bit by bit, until there was nothing but silence. And yet, somehow, in the midst of all this, the cycle would start again. Time wouldn't stop. It never did.
And then, it hit me. A sudden, chilling realization.
What if we didn't have to stop or destroy time? What if I could replace it? I looked at the imagine of mighty Kronos, standing above all. He was defeated because his arrogance precluded his ability to stop the shifting of time further onwards until his own destruction. What if…what if I could step into Kronos' place and take control of time itself?
Kronos was the lord of time—the master of the cycles of creation, rise, fall, and rebirth. But what if I could take over that mantle, not destroy it, but use it to stop the inevitable? What if I could break the cycle, not by excising the god of time, but by becoming the one who controls it?
The idea took root in my mind like wildfire, and the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. To replace Kronos, to take his power and bend it to my will—maybe that was the only way to break the cycle. I wasn't sure how it would work, how I would do it, or if it was even possible, but one thing was clear: Time itself was the key.
And maybe, just maybe, the empty space in the mural wasn't an end—it was a beginning. The next chapter was still unwritten, and I had the chance to write it. If I could replace Kronos, then I could reshape the future. I could end the wars, prevent Gaia from rising, and maybe even stop the gods from fading into irrelevance. I could break the cycle, once and for all.
But how?
As I stood there, my gaze locked onto the fresco, something shifted inside me. The earlier thought of replacing Kronos was slowly fading, replaced by something darker, something more urgent. I leaned in closer, studying the mural again with growing intensity. The Olympians didn't just inherit their power—they seized it. They didn't wait for Kronos to hand over the reins of his domains; they fought for it. They destroyed the Titans and wrested control of the universe from them.
"Bob," I said, my voice firm but low, "what would it take for me to... defeat Kronos? To challenge him? To take his power?"
Bob's golden eyes flickered as he processed the question. I could see the hesitation there, the momentary glance of concern.
"You can't simply take Kronos' power, Percy," Bob said softly, his voice grave. "The gods didn't just defeat Kronos—They were destined to wield the domains they claimed. There's a balance to the universe, to the realms. You don't simply take that kind of power without consequences."
I frowned, feeling that sting of doubt, but I pushed it down. Bob had a point, but something inside me—something stubborn, something that had driven me through every challenge in my life—told me I couldn't back down now. If the gods could defeat Kronos and seize his power, why couldn't I? After all, I was the one who ended Kronos when he tried to rise last time.
"And if I could... if I could claim that power... what would it mean for me? For the balance?" I asked, the weight of the question hanging in the air.
Bob hesitated longer this time. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter. "It would mean you could reshape the world as you see fit. But, Percy, it would change you. It would change the fabric of your being. The Titan's power doesn't just lend itself to any mortal. It's more than raw strength—it's authority, dominion. The gods had their own birthright, their own essence. But you... you would have to wrestle with something much darker. A shadow that could consume you."
The thought of taking Kronos' power sent a shiver down my spine. The gods had been made from the very stuff of their realms, their essence intertwined with the domains they'd claimed. But me? I wasn't born of the Titans, of the earth, of time. I was just a son of Poseidon, a demigod, thrown into the mix.
But I couldn't stop the thought now. It had taken root. The idea of challenging Kronos, of taking his power, of becoming something more than what I was... It felt like the one thing I could control in a world that kept trying to crush me.
"I won't be consumed," I muttered under my breath, mostly to myself. I was getting ahead of myself, I knew that. I didn't even know if this was possible. But the seed had been planted, and I couldn't ignore it. "I have to try."
Bob watched me carefully, his expression unreadable. He didn't stop me. But something in his eyes told me that if I chose to pursue this, I would be walking down a dangerous path—one that I might not come back from.
"Then I'll help you, Percy," Bob said quietly. "But be careful. The Titans' power is not something to be taken lightly. If you're set on this path, you'll need all the strength you can muster... and you'll need to make sure you don't lose yourself along the way."
I nodded, though part of me wasn't sure I could stay on this path without being consumed. But the stakes were too high. Gaia was rising, the gods were fractured, and the fate of the world was on my shoulders. If I was going to stand a chance against the giants, against Gaia, I needed more than just my usual tricks. I needed something greater.
I clenched my fists.
I was going to find a way to challenge Kronos.
A grin tugged at the corner of my lips, unbidden but undeniable. It was crazy. It was reckless. It was exactly the kind of insane idea I would have had back at Camp Half-Blood, when I was younger and more naïve. But now, after everything I'd seen, after all the times I'd been forced to fight, to survive—this felt like the next step.
I could challenge Kronos.
Not just fight him. Not just try to take him down in some big, epic battle. But instead, I would challenge him in the Pit—the fighting pit where I was now a master and would have the advantage, for I know Kronos would never have entered himself because of his arrogance and pride. It was madness, yes, but it would be the perfect setting. No one had ever done it before. No mortal had ever dared challenge the King of the Titans in such a way.
The rules of the Arena were simple, brutal, and unyielding. But they didn't dictate who you fought, just that you had to survive. And if I could make it through the trials of the arena, I would have Kronos in front of me. One on one.
At stake? My soul. My essence. It would give Kronos what he needed—a body to rise from Tartarus. But if I won... If I somehow pulled this off, I could claim his soul. The King of the Titans, trapped forever in a body that wasn't his, bound to my will. I would have the power to stop Gaia's rise, to control Kronos, to reshape everything.
The risk was... monumental.
I would be gambling with my very being. If I lost, Kronos would gain what he needed to rise, to walk free once again. But if I won... I would claim the most powerful force in existence. The very soul of Kronos would be mine to command.
I knew the odds weren't in my favor. But the odds had never been in my favor. Not once. And yet, here I was.
I turned to Bob, my mind racing with the possibilities.
"Bob," I said, my voice steady but charged with determination, "I'm going to do it. I'm going to challenge Kronos to a battle in the Pit."
Bob didn't flinch, didn't seem surprised. He just stared at me with those wise, ancient eyes, waiting. "You understand what you're risking?" he asked quietly.
"Of course," I said, my heart pounding. "I'm betting my soul. But if I win... If I win, I can stop Gaia. I can stop all of this."
He nodded slowly. "It's not just your soul at stake, Percy. You would be challenging a being who was once the very master of time. The Titan who could bend the fabric of existence itself. If you fail, it won't just be you who pays the price. The balance of everything will shift. Tartarus, the gods, the world above... everything will change."
I swallowed, but my resolve didn't waver. If the price of stopping Gaia was my essence, then so be it. I had already sacrificed so much. What was a little more on the line?
"Then we'll prepare," I said, turning away from Bob. "We need to find a way into the Arena, and I need to get stronger. Kronos might not be expecting me to challenge him this way. But I've got the element of surprise on my side."
Bob didn't argue. He just nodded, as if understanding the depth of what I was committing to. "The Arena is not just a place of fighting," he warned, his tone low. "It's a place of ritual, of power. The crowd is fickle, and it will not hesitate to turn on you if they think you're not worthy. If you're going to face Kronos there, you must be prepared for more than just physical strength."
"Yeah, I get it," I said, my fists clenching. "I'll need more than just my sword."
Bob stepped closer, his face solemn. "And you'll need to learn how to wield not just power, but dominance. The Pit is not about skill alone. It's about commanding the fight, bending the will of the opponents and the spectators alike. It's about becoming more than just a warrior—becoming the embodiment of your own will."
I nodded slowly. It wasn't just about brute force. It was about presence. Power. The ability to bend reality itself, just like Kronos had once done.
As I prepared myself for what lay ahead, I could already see the path stretching out before me. The Arena was my stage, and if I could face Kronos there, I could gain the power I needed to stop Gaia, to end this war before it even began.
I couldn't stop thinking about the Pit. Once the place of my torture, it would become the salvation of the world. The challenge that lay ahead, the stakes—my soul, Kronos' power, Gaia's rise. It all boiled down to one thing: I had to defeat Kronos in his own domain, in the most dangerous, high-stakes fight in all of Tartarus.
I sat down in the library, the ancient walls surrounding me, their shadows long and twisted. The bookshelves were lined with scrolls, some ancient beyond measure, their ink faded with time. But there was one language I could read, one that might hold the secrets I needed to understand how to stand a chance against Kronos: Ancient Greek.
I sifted through the scrolls, eyes scanning for anything that might give me a clue. Most of the texts were historical, filled with the stories of the gods, of Kronos, and of the great battles of the past. But there was something deeper, something more hidden in these texts.
And then I found it.
A scroll that felt different from the others, ancient and worn but still whole. It had a strange aura about it, as if it had been untouched by time, preserved for this exact moment. The words on it seemed to glow faintly as I unrolled the scroll.
As I read, a cold, sharp realization hit me. This was a record of the old battles, the ancient wars, and how the gods had used not just their powers, but their wills to claim victory. The key to defeating Kronos didn't lie in strength alone. No. It was about control.
Kronos had bent time, had shaped the world with his power, but the gods had done something else—they had claimed authority.
The scroll described something that made my blood run cold: a way to challenge the Titans, to command their power and bend them to your will. But there was a catch. To do so, you needed to become something more. Something that transcended your mortal limitations. You had to challenge not just Kronos, but his very essence.
I sat back, mind racing.
If I was going to face Kronos, I would have to offer my soul—my very essence—as the price. If I won, I would claim his power, his authority. But if I lost, the consequences would be far worse than simply losing the fight. I would lose myself entirely.
I took a deep breath and set the scroll down, my mind already spinning with possibilities. I couldn't afford to wait. I couldn't wait for help from the gods, or for some outside force to save me. I had to take matters into my own hands.
I looked over at Bob, who was quietly standing by, waiting for me to speak.
"Bob," I said, my voice steady despite the storm of thoughts racing through my mind. "I know how to defeat Kronos. I am ready."
