ONE HUNDRED FLOORS OF HELL

CHAPTER I

On the banks of the river Cocytus, Percy Jackson lay motionless on the glassy rocks. His face, bruised and bloody, showed no sign of consciousness. His clothes were torn and soaked in the blood that seeped from his gashes.

Around him, the dark red mists of Tartarus threatened to swallow him whole, dragging him into a river of misery, or perhaps a storm of fire. Cries and howls echoed across the plains– a sign that this truly was hell, the Pit itself.

From the darkness came a cloaked figure. They kneeled beside the demigod. Steady hands clutched his form, dragging him away from the river.

And thus, Percy was reborn.

The demigod awoke in a dimly lit room, with the scent of brimstone heavy in the air. His eyes adjusted, and he found himself lying on a pile of brown pelts, his head supported by a makeshift pillow. His wounds were wrapped tightly– he could feel a dull ache under the bandages on his chest and right arm.

He carefully tried to sit up. He wasn't nearly as injured as he thought he'd be, somehow. The fall, all the way from the surface down to… Tartarus, he guessed… How had he survived it? It seemed an impossible feat, even for a demigod.

He did feel tired and weak, as if he was recovering from a marathon.

Percy shrugged the pelts off and quietly got to his feet. His sword, Riptide, was nowhere to be found. If it hadn't returned to his pocket, did that mean the magic didn't work in Tartarus? He'd have to wait and see.

The house he woke up in was small, built from wooden planks that gleamed purple in the dark. He quickly rummaged through the cabinets, but found nothing but utensils and jars filled with stuff he couldn't recognize.

He did find that one of the walls had a latch– it was the wooden cover for a makeshift window of sorts. Yet right as Percy would make his escape, the door of the hut opened, and something walked right in.

They made eye-contact. For a moment, neither dared to move. The figure was draped in a cloak, obscuring their facial features from his view. They were shorter than him, smaller, but a stark white knife was strapped to their hip.

The figure's gloved fingers twitched towards the weapon. Percy shot through the room like an arrow– shoulder-slamming the creature into the wall. He heard it gasp for air, putting up a single arm, seemingly to fend him off.

"Stop! Hold on!" said the… person? Their voice was light and soft.

Percy blinked. "You can speak?" he asked. "Like… proper words?"

The woman tugged at her hood, revealing a sharp face marred by a heavy frown, framed by flowing black hair. Yet a deep scar ran across her left cheek. It was not a sight he'd expect in Tartarus.

"Of course, I can." she snarled, standing up from where he'd thrown her. "Was that necessary? You'd think you demigods would at least have the decency to be thankful when someone heals you from near-death."

Percy's brain was struggling to comprehend, well, everything. "You're a person. Here." He gestured wildly at their surroundings. "In the Pit."

"Sadly, yes," said the woman. She pushed past him, shrugging off the leather bag she had been carrying. "There's a change of clothes in there. Please, put a shirt on."

He frowned, gingerly opening the bag. Inside, he found a linen shirt and a pair of pants. He'd need them, judging by the fact that his current jeans were torn and stained with… he didn't even want to know. His camp shirt was missing too.

"Thank you," he said after a beat of silence. "Why are you doing this? This is Tartarus, right? Who even are you?"

"One thing at a time, please." She had moved over to a workstation of sorts, crouching down to light a fire under a round metal pot. "And yes, this is Tartarus, judging by the fact that everything wants to kill you."

The water inside the pot began to boil shortly after. The fire burned an unnaturally red hue. "And you are?" he asked.

"Hesperia," she said curtly.

"Why'd you save me?"

"Out of the goodness of my own heart?"

"Doubt it."

"You'd be right," she said, snorting. "You're the first demigod to come here… well, ever. I figured you were here for a reason, and since you're supposed to be the chosen one and all that–"

"You know who I am?" he asked, frowning.

"Everyone does. You reek of the sea and mortal blood." She dropped some powder into the bowl. "Your reputation precedes you."

"Hm," he hummed. That wasn't surprising. He was lucky he'd been found by someone who seemed to be friendly, and not a monster. That would've been just his luck.

"My sword," said Percy. "Where is it?"

She shrugged. "Didn't even know you had one, to be honest."

So, no Riptide. Great.

"Right," he said, beginning to move for the door. "Thank you for the clothes and for not letting me die–."

"You can't go out there," said Hesperia. "They'll find you in seconds. Unarmed, you stand no chance."

"I'll figure it out," Percy said.

"You will not," she said sternly. "Besides, who said saving you was free of charge?"

Percy froze, his hand hovering over the door handle. "Huh?"

"You're not the only one who wants to get back to the surface, boy." she said. "The Doors of Death, that's what you're looking for, correct?"

Percy frowned. "Yes… How do you know?"

"It's the only quick way out of here, I'm afraid."

"You still haven't told me who you really are, and how you ended up here," he said. "That would be a good start."

"As far as I know, you're the one who owes me. I don't owe you any stories."

Something clicked in Percy's brain. "Hesperia," he mumbled. "You're a Hesperide, aren't you? A daughter of Atlas?"

Hesperia's jaw clenched. Her frown threatened to carve actual lines into her skin. "Clever of you, really. The name gives it away?"

"And how you look," he said. "You look just like your sister."

She and Zoe shared similar features. It was like looking at her long lost cousin. How had he not noticed before?

"Ah, of course," she snorted. "The famous Zoe Nightshade. What a joke."

Percy frowned. "Show some respect," he hissed. "She died to save the world. That's more than what can be said about you."

Hesperia scowled. "I fled to escape the wrath of those Olympians," she said. "She left to chase a man so despicable his own father cast him out to… what does he do again? Guard Gibraltar?"

She shrugged. "Do not put us in the same league. I am nothing like her."

"She was a great warrior," growled Percy. "One of the best. She overcame that past and gave her life for… for us. Don't tarnish her name."

Hesperia huffed. "Whatever, it doesn't change the fact that we're stuck here. We need to act quickly."

"For what? I have until my friends reach the Doors, which is bound to take a while. We need a plan–"

"Time works differently here," she said. "A hundred years here could be a heartbeat on the surface, or vice versa. We cannot waste time."

"Why should I trust you?" Percy asked. "If anything, you could just be using me–"

"I am," she said, nodding. "Make no mistake, saving you was no friendly gesture. I plan to escape this hellhole soon and I need a capable hand to help me."

A beat of silence passed. Percy considered the offer. He had no idea if she would betray him or not, considering she was a daughter of Atlas. One who opposed the Olympians at that. But he didn't have any better alternatives right now.

"You said you fled," he recalled. "Why did you? And how did you get here?"

"None of your–"

"I have to know," said Percy, leaving no room for argument. "Otherwise, I won't go along with whatever plan you have."

The young woman sighed in frustration. "It's… complicated. Your gods sent some minor deities to investigate after Atlas was once again imprisoned. They interrogated us. I… I feared the scrutiny of the gods, I've seen what they can do, and my father was bound to punish me anyways even if I did obey them."

"So you ran," said Percy.

"My sisters cursed me for it," she said bitterly. "After that, I wandered for… a while. My immortality hadn't vanished, but my scent was strong. Eventually I encountered that web spinning wench–"

Percy's world ground to a halt. How had he forgotten about the reason he was here in the first place? The monster who had terrorized Annabeth, who had pushed him to his limits to the point of throwing himself down here to save her…

"Arachne," he hissed. "You've met her?"

From her expression, he assumed they weren't all buddy-buddy. "The scar on my face, it's from her. She played me for a fool, tricked me. Threw me down here to rot," she spat. "She doesn't eat immortals, you see. Only humans are appetizing enough apparently."

"She's down here, isn't she?" he asked.

Hesperia nodded. "I've found tracks in the valley. She seems to have made it her personal hunting grounds."

Percy blinked. "Wait… How long was I out?"

"A week, maybe?"

He paled. "A week… who knows how much time has passed up there. We need to act, now."

"So you're in?" she asked, hopeful. It was the most emotion he'd seen from her yet.

Percy nodded. "I'm in, but I'll need to know what the hell you've got in store for us, and ideally a weapon too."

Hesperia smirked. "That's the spirit. We'll go over it all, no stone left unturned."

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the festering, vomit inducing reality that was Tartarus. Now that he was outside, his senses were swamped with the scent of fire and death, flashes of lightning tearing through the sky and the red mist that invaded his lungs like a disease.

Hesperia had been leading him down into a valley of glassy rock and dead bushes– he wondered if the vegetation in this realm had ever known life at all, or if it was simply put here to make the place seem even more dreadful.

The woman knelt down, pointing at a few pointy marks in the hot sand. Tracks. Something had torn through the landscape here, clearly injured, yet strong enough to hunt. Arachne was here somewhere… he could feel it.

"Hmm…" he hummed, feeling the anger coil in his stomach. "What's the plan then?"

"She's always been awfully stealthy for such a big beast. We'll need to lure her in. Looking for her is futile."

Percy frowned. "Stealthy… Does she know I'm here?"

Hesperia raised an eyebrow. "If you fell after her, she could have felt your presence. Tartarus is weird. She was here a while before you even reached the Pit's surface."

"Let's assume she knows. Then wouldn't she be trying to lure us in?"

She blinked. "That… could very well be the case. You think these tracks were made on purpose?"

"I think she wants me to come looking for her. She knows I will."

Hesperia sucked in a frustrated breath. "Let's go back. We need to think this over–"

"No," Percy said. "Look at the carves in the rock. She was stumbling. Injured. If we ambush her now, we'll have an advantage."

"And what if that's another trick?" she hissed.

"I'll improvise," he hissed back. He didn't know why, but the urge to hunt that monster down this instant was overwhelming. He needed her to die before anything else. "You promised me a weapon. Where is it?"

Hesperia hesitated, glancing at the depths of the valley, obscured from their vision by thick plants and vines. Somewhere in that hellhole, Arachne waited for them. The hesperide tugged one of her pearly bracelets off her arm, the white stones reflecting the red hues of Tartarus, and handed it to him.

"What, am I gonna fashion her to death?" he snarked.

She rolled her eyes. "My sister gave you something similar, no? An object that changes into a weapon, imbued with the essence of the sea?"

Percy blinked. That had been obvious. "My bad. Yes, she did– a pen that changed into a sword."

He looked down at the bracelet resting in his palm. "But how do I… make it work?"

"Put it on and twist the beads."

He followed her command, twisting one of the small pearls. A white gleam engulfed his hand. The bracelet changed, expanded until it formed a…

"What the hell is this?" he asked, staring at the weapon in disbelief.

It was a sword, obviously, but it didn't look like any of the ones he'd ever seen at camp. It had a little curve to it, and the blade only had one edge. It was longer than Riptide, and much lighter. The metal was thin and sharp as a razor.

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's got a bit of my soul in it, but I don't control the shape it decides to take," she said. "You asked for a weapon, well, that's the best weapon you'll find in… well, this entire realm, probably. Short of stealing Kronos' scythe."

Percy frowned, giving the weapon an experimental twirl. It felt perfectly balanced and light as a feather.

"It'll do, thank you." He turned to the valley once again, narrowing his eyes at the deep forest that lay below. "You can't go in there with me."

Hesperia scowled. "Don't mistake me for some damsel, you–"

"I'm not mistaking you for anything," he interrupted. "But close quarters combat is my area of expertise. You'd just be getting in my way. Unless you've got fireballs you can throw, I suggest you wait in your hut until I've returned."

He didn't need the death of another hesperide on his conscience. One was already more than he could bear.

Hesperia scoffed, but nodded. "Whatever you say. Just make sure you kill her, or come back in one piece at least."

He waited until her cloaked form disappeared over the hillside, before he turned towards the rest of the valley. It was big– too big to scan the whole thing from where he stood. Investigating the entire area could take days, precious time that he did not have.

Luckily, he was dealing with a creature who hated his guts. Then again, when did they not?