[PJO/DF] To The Doors Of Death

[Ryuugi]

Because I obviously need more stories.

Yes, I realized I am swamped with active fics and majorly behind on, uh...everything. I'm also aware I'm just about to reach the climax of several of them, including my current project, KEAFH--which I'm not going to be stopping for this story, for the record. It's going interesting places and will soon get to the really fun parts with no boring stuff to wear me down in sight.

Nonetheless, I've been updating it at a pretty ridiculous pace, which has lead to, amongst other things, some pretty embarrassing spelling errors. More importantly, I need to make sure what is getting sticks to the plot I have designed, which could probably use some hammering out, besides--you know something is wrong when you're writing a series and have three of the books completely plotted out...and none of them are the first one, which is lingering at about 75% done and 25% '???'. So I need a day or two to reel that in and actually talk to my betas and stuff to hammer out the last few kinks out of that before problems occur, which means a few days of plot work and such.

In that time, I'll reply to some questions and such I've been neglecting and also working a bit on this, because it's easy to write and keeps me from going crazy over constant KEAFH.

Without further ado...

To The Doors Of Death

The fall into Tartarus is longùlong enough to make one wonder if thereÆs a bottom, but you know there has to be, so you instead start to wonder what itÆll be like when you finally hit the bottom. You fall fast enough that the very air against your face begins to hurt and the deeper you go, the worse it gets. The vile stench of blood and worse fills your nostrils, screams echo loud enough to hurt your ears, and it gets colder and colder, and youÆd think eventually you would go numb, but you donÆtùyou just start to ache more and more in the cold. And every time you breath, as the chill of the cold seems to claw at your nose and mouth, as the screams seem right next to your ear, and as the horrible smell makes you gag, you think æThis is it. The smell and the voices are so closeùIÆm about to hit the bottom and break into pieces.Æ

But itÆs an illusions. Hesiod was right about Tartarus in that wayùit is a very long fall, whether for a golden anvil or a pair of demigods. Nine days down, getting worse all the way. The screams grow in volume until your ear-drums seem ready to burst, but they never do; the screams just get louder and your pain increases. Your sense of smell swiftly becomes less of an aid and more of an elaborate for of self-punishment. Your entire body hurts, as if layers of your skin were being frozen and the force of the wind were flaying them off.

But eventually, after nine days and nine nights that may as well be the same to you, down there in the darkùyou do reach the bottom.

The entire way down, weÆd held each otherÆs hands, refusing the let go and leave the other alone. The darkness of the pit had long ago stolen our ability to see one another, and trying to hear each otherÆs voices was an effort in futility. That contact was all we had to be sure the other still existed.

So perhaps it was fitting that the first thing Tartarus stole from us was that certainty.

We hit the ground with a thunderous roar and after those nine, frigid days and that enormous fall, I thought that was the end. I thought the fall would kill us both, by that point, maybe even imagined that between the impact and the cold, weÆd shatter into a thousand pieces.

Maybe we did. Maybe we died down there at the bottom of the pit, bodies broken beyond repair, and Tartarus simply refused to let out souls escape.

I donÆt know. All I know is that for a long time, I can do nothing but lie there like a puppet with its strings cut. I think I may have blacked out, maybe even several times. I felt like everything was broken, but that couldnÆt have been, because somehow, after I had no idea how long, I managed to stand through the pain.

It hurt, if that needs to be said. So did walking and breathing and talkingùbut all of that was nothing compared to the fact that I might have lost her down here.

I canÆt see her, but then, I canÆt see anything. Tartarus is dark; unbelievably so. I lift my hands to cover my eyes and then move them perhaps a millimeter away, but when I open my eyes I cannot see them in the slightest. In that darkness, in the midst of those screams and concealed by that stench, a dragon could have been right in front of me and I wouldnÆt have been able to tell, much less find Annabeth.

It scared me. I donÆt normally think that IÆm afraid of the dark, but that darkness? That cold and that noise and that stench? They scared me.

That didnÆt change anything, either. Whether I was scared or not, I was going to find her.

ôAnnabeth!ö I screamed. At least, I think I did. In the midst of the endless screams of the punished, I couldnÆt even hear my own voice and I hear no reply.

ôAnnabeth!ö I shout again, putting everything I have into it, until it feels like my throat is tearing, but I still receive nothing back, so I donÆt dare stop. I shout for her again and again, maybe thirty times, and get no reply. But after a moment, thereÆsàsomething. I think I heard a momentary raise and fall in the bone-shaking screams around me, and it could easily have been nothing but my imagination. And if it wasnÆt, thereÆs nothing to say it was Annabeth.

But Gods if I wasnÆt desperate.

I ran toward what I thought was the source. I may have heard the sound again, but even as I got closer, I wasnÆt sure if it was anything but my mind playing cruel tricks on meùuntil I ran straight into someone. We went down into a pile of frigid limbs, but hope filled my chest.

ôAnnabeth?ö I said hopefully, forgetting to yell, and the result was too low for even me to hear. I shouted it again after catching myself, lifting my hands to her face to trace it with my fingersùbut they were so cold and ached so badly, I wasnÆt sure it did any good. I traced her cheekbones as her own hands lifted to my face, doing the same, and I tried to remember how her face felt beneath my fingers. I ran them through her hair a moment later and I thought it could have been the right length. But I hadnÆt expected to be getting a quiz on it and weÆd been together for mere days after being separated for months. Cold and in pain as I wasà

I didnÆt know. I didnÆt know if the person I was holding was Annabeth. Butàbutà

Her fingers left my face, apparently more sure then mine, and a moment later I felt something cold and soft against my mouth.

Her lips. She was kissing me and in desperate fear I kissed her back and I thought she kissed like Annabeth.

But then again, perhaps that was just another of TartarusÆ cruel tricks.

XxXXxX

 

[SilverBack354]

Umm

???

Yeah more Stories

???



On a side note is Devil's Advocate still live somewhere

 

[Ryuugi]

XxXXxX

Since learning I was a Demigod, IÆd gain a profound respect and interest in myth, if only because my life seemed to depend on it with some degree of frequency. I was no match for Annabeth or any of her siblings, nor even most of the other Counselors at Camp, but I knew enough to not flounder every time I met a new monster, and IÆd asked about Tartarus more than once. After all, IÆd nearly gotten dragged down there mere days after joining the Camp. On the trip over on the Argo II, IÆd asked Annabeth about it, as well.

No one had a clear answer. It wasnÆt a place anyone chose to visit willingly, not even the Gods, and those who managed to escape didnÆt speak of itùthough given how dark it was, maybe it was just that no one had anything to say. Nico had been the only mortal to ever survive being here and heÆd been almost instantly captured. I wondered about that a little, too. Wondered why I hadnÆt been caught yet. Perhaps GaiaÆs minions had surrounded us already and were closing in for the kill. It was possible, I thought, because an army could easily pass unnoticed in this darkness.

That was a pretty chilling thought, but not what I was truly worried about. I almost wished for an army to appear and make things a bit clearer.

Because mostly, I wondered if this was what Tartarus was truly like.

I was one of the few, even amongst the demigods, who have ever been to the Underworld. Of those, I am one of an even smaller number who has walked through the Fields of Punishment, where wicked mortals are sent to be punished. IÆve seen things like men and woman being constantly torn to pieces by hellhounds and forever burning on stakes, and worse things I didnÆt want to think aboutùand those had been on the outer reaches of the Fields, where things were comparatively warm and cozy. Further in, where those were worse crimes were dealt with, things got bad. Imagine your worst fear. Now imagine it being ten times worse. Now imagine living that fear forever. ThatÆs what some parts of the Fields of Punishment were like and others were worse.

So when I thought of Tartarus, the deepest, darkest, most horrifying part of the Underworld, the place where the Gods had imprisoned their enemies and where immortals are punishedùIÆd thought it would have been like the Fields of Punishment, but more horrible. If nothing else, IÆd have thought the number of beings IÆd personally put there would hold a grudge and want revenge.

Maybe they did. Maybe they didnÆt know I was here yet. Maybe they did and were waiting around the next corner. Maybe they were here, next to me, right now. Maybe I just hadnÆt reached the worst parts of Tartarus yetùthe screams that filled the air constantly had to come from somewhere, after all. Or maybe they didnÆt and this was just what Tartarus was like. Maybe this was all there was to Tartarus or maybe what was to come was merely waiting for me to let my guard down. Maybe the moment I thought I was safe, theyÆd snatch us up and tear Annabeth away from me and weÆd suffer beyond description.

Or maybeùand this, more than a hidden army, more than a Titans revenge, more than anything IÆd faced before in my entire life, scared meùmaybe Tartarus was tailored to the prisoner, like the Fields of Punishment. Maybe this whole thing was my own, personal hell. Maybe I wasnÆt even holding AnnabethÆs hand. Maybe sheÆd been snatched away when weÆd first lost each other. Maybe Annabeth truly was with me and we were going to wander in the darkness and the cold forever and never get out. Maybe IÆd find my way out and look back and realize I hadnÆt been holding AnnabethÆs hand at all, that IÆd left her to suffer forever in Tartarus. Maybe while I was walking in the dark and going unharmed, she was suffering for both of usùI could see her doing that and IÆd do it for her, so whoÆs to say one of those screams didnÆt belong to the one I loved?

Maybe IÆd lost her. Maybe she was dead. Maybe IÆd died and been locked here in Tartarus after all. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I thought about an army of unkillable monsters appearing suddenly and attacking and I realized it didnÆt scare me that much. I wasnÆt afraid of fires or claws or even, really, of dying. I wasnÆt afraid of a hellhoundÆs teeth or burning in a fire. Not compared to this. IÆd always wondered about the story of Orpheus, who had lost the love of his life by looking back at her before theyÆd both reached the realms of the living, but IÆd never thought itÆd be this hard to hold someoneÆs hand and try to guide her through hell and not know if it was really her.

I wanted to see her face. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to know she was okay, that I hadnÆt made a mistake, that I hadnÆt lost her again.

But I couldnÆt and I didnÆt. Looking back wasnÆt an option for me, so I continued forward, not letting go of her hand.

But even so, I closed my unseeing eyes and prayed, hoping my Uncle was in a listening mood.

Hades. Uncle. PleaseàI know weÆve fought before and I know IÆve insulted you and hurt you. And if you want to punish me for that, fine. But please, let me get her out of here. Please donÆt let me be mistaken about this.

For a moment, I thought I felt Tartarus rumble.

I wonder if it was HadesÆ reply or GaiaÆs laughter.

XxXXxX

 

[Ryuugi]

XxXXxX

The wind starts up and it begins to rainùrain what, I donÆt know and doesnÆt want to find out, but itÆs not water. Whatever it is, it and the wind make the cold truly unbearable, and when Annabethùwho I hope is Annabethùfalls, I follow her down with relief. I pull her shaking form into my arms, holding her tight to try and give her warmthùor else to clutch at her and assure myself sheÆs really there. Probably both.

But as the rain increases and it gets even colder, it is with some amount of panic that I realize IÆm exhausted and am struggling to stay awake. I know that if I fall asleep here, now, I may never wake up. I realize I may die and fail if I lose consciousness now and I try, with all my might, to rise and stand and continue on. I tell myself I will carry the deathly cold girl in my arms if I must.

ItÆs futile. I have not slept or rested since hours before we fell into Tartarus and I am hurt, in pain, and cold.

I fade.

My dreams, naturally, quickly turn to nightmares. I dreamt of the Argo II, of my friends speaking of the Doors of Death, and of what they didnÆt say. If the Doors of Death had to be sealed from both sides, didnÆt that mean that someone would have to stay behind to shut it from this side? I wasnÆt a genius, but it seemed to me that getting out through closed doors might be complicated.

IÆd be left behind. Trapped in Tartarus, maybe forever. And it would be meùI couldnÆt usually lie to Annabeth and had a pretty hard time keeping secrets from her, but here in the darkness, when she couldnÆt even hear my voice? I could keep this from her. I knew her and if she knew about what had to be done, sheÆd never let me do itùat least not alone. A part of me wondered about what it would be like, alone in here for ever, but it would be better than letting her suffer.

If, of course, she didnÆt already know. For all I knew, she could already know what needed to be done to close the gates.

ôWeÆre staying together,ö IÆd promised. ôYouÆre not getting away from me. Never again.ö

ôAs long as weÆre together.ö SheÆd said.

æAn oath to keep with a final breath,Æ I heard a voice murmur into my dreams.

Gaea.

æI know your fatal flaw, my dear child. And I know hers as well. If she should find out, she will never leave you alone in this placeùI wonder if she knows you would tear down the world to keep her safe? To storm or fire, the world must fallàö

When I wake up, I am in pain. The rain has frozen into ice around me, but for some reason, perhaps TartarusÆ nature, neither of us died, but merely hurt more and more fiercely. The cold and my own desperate need for warmth have curled my arms and fingers into almost painful holds on Annabeth. It takes me what seems like an hour to make my body move and through her heart and breathing remain strong, I desperately try to rub warmth back into her limbs. Eventually, knowing Tartarus wonÆt allow me to die that easily, I remove my shirt and pull Annabeth into it.

She sleeps peacefully, frighteningly so, but the chill seems to double even though I know the meager protection of my shirt couldnÆt have made that much of a difference. But it keeps me awake, despite my exhaustion.

The dark and the cold and the screams that are now my Reality are horribleùbut I canÆt help but feel they may be better than what waits in my dreams.

XxXXxX

For a moment, I thought it a miracle, maybe even a sign of divine aid, when we stumbled across a cave or tunnel or something in the dark. The rain had just picked up again and each drop of whatever was falling had literally hurt when it struck my skin, but the cave provided some degree of shelter.

Better yet, inside the cave, the screams were muffled, distant, and I thought maybe, just maybe, IÆd be able to hear AnnabethÆs voice if I was in here.

I did.

The moment I entered the shelter, I all but fell to the ground in relief, both at being shielded from the rain and that IÆd finally know for sure, but before the question even left my voice, I heard her screams. They were closeùclose enough to be heard clearly against the background noise of other screams with how loud they were.

My eyes snap open and for a moment, I think IÆve failed to stay awake, that IÆm asleep and having another nightmare. I thinkùhopeùthis is me dreaming of the confirmation of all of my terrors and fearsùof failing, of having mistaken Annabeth for another, of having left her behind, of letting her get hurt, be tortured, suffer for my mistakes.

But the screams continue. TheyÆre loud, shill, and completely without dignity, strained in such a way that it sounded like sheÆd tried to keep from screaming and for a while had even succeededùbut that such a time was long since passed.

IÆm whirling towards the entrance of the shelter in an instant, one hand reaching in my pocket and withdrawing Riptide, slipping its cap off with a flick of my thumb. Normally, this would be where it flared with light and cast away the shadows, but as IÆd already learned, TartarusÆ darkness was too great to be dispelled, even by Celestial Bronze.

In Tartarus, the dark wasnÆt just the absence of light.

Even so, I step forward, ready to go dark into that darkness, to tear apart whatever what hurting the girl I loved with my sword, knowing I would save Annabeth no matter what it took, and unwilling to even contemplate any other possibilityù

Until suddenly IÆm grabbed from behind and pulled off balance. ItÆs only then that I realize that IÆd let go of AnnabethÆs handùor rather, I realize with mounting anger, whoever had tricked me into thinking she was Annabeth.

I twist myself out of her grip, turning around, ready to swing Riptide at her and end here, until a flash of doubt makes me hesitate, wondering if this was another trick, and she speaks, tone hurried and desperate.

ôYou canÆt!ö Annabeth shouts, words strained from the screaming theyÆd had to do to find each other, as well as from her own weariness. For a moment, I canÆt even recognize her voice, it sounds so different, but noùitÆs her. Or it sounds like her and after so long with nothing but endless, agonized screams, itÆs amazing just to hear her voice, even with her screaming in the background. ôYou canÆt! Percy, if you go out there, weÆll never find each other again! Not in this darkness! ItÆs not me! IÆm right here! Remember that Cyclopes can mimic voicesùyou can believe everything to hear! Especially not down here!ö

I hesitated, Annabeth shrieking in agony on one side, pleading with me on the other. But she was rightùI couldnÆt believe everything I heard. Tyson could mimic voices so well that it was basically impossible to tell the difference between him and the originalùand once, Annabeth had spoken of a Cyclops sheÆd meet when she was with Thalia and Luke, whoÆd mimicked her fatherÆs voice, even though there was no way heÆd ever met him. If one of them wanted to convince me they were Annabeth, they couldùit would be easy for them, here in the dark.

I couldnÆt believe the voice out there was Annabeth. But that was true for the voice in here, too. I had to remember that we were in Tartarus now; this was where slain monsters went. She could be a shapeshifter or someone who could mimic voices or who knows what else.

ôTell me something only Annabeth would know,ö I say and realize with shock that I can barely recognize my own voice. If AnnabethÆs voice sounds strained, mine is barely more than a growl, my words barely understandable.

And I wonder suddenly, about Annabeth, realizing that itÆs not just her body I had to worry about down here in the dark. Gaea had been antagonizing me in my dreams, but what about Annabeth. If I couldnÆt be sure of her identity, could she be any more certain of mine. Riptide shakes a little in my hand at the thought, because I canÆt help but think of the possibilities. If she really was Annabethàif I hadnÆt hesitatedà

Gods, we could end up killing each other down here.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand against my chest, several inches away from my left shoulder, but forced myself to relax. Her hand slid to the center of my chest, pausing for a moment over my pounding heart, before moving down to my bellybutton. Slowly, like someone who was, well, blind, she slid her hand around my side and over my back, until it was more or less opposite my bellybuttonùthe same place that had once been my only weak point, when the Curse of Achilles had rendered me all but completely invulnerable. Annabeth had been the only one IÆd told.

The wave of relief swept through me and I nearly fell to my knees. Instead, I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her towards me, and kissed her as hard as I could. Given what state we were both in and the fact that neither of us has seen a toothbrush since before we fell, it was neither best idea nor a particularly good kiss, but I ignored that, because I was sure.

æAre you really?Æ I could hear Gaea say. It was barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the ambient noise like a blade. æI am the Earth, dear boy. I know everything that happens upon meùI know your story and your loveÆs. And dear, fallen Ethan. I knew you from the moment you were born and watched you every moment of your life. I was there with you both in that room. I was there by Ethan, on that bridge. I told you to enjoy Tartarus, didnÆt I? I know you, child, as I know her. And do you truly believe that yours thoughts and memories are safe from me? Or from dear Tartarus? So I ask againàare you certain?ö

I canÆt keep myself from stiffening at her words, the plunge back into fear and uncertainty all the worse for having been so sure mere moments beforeùand Gaea knew it, I was sure. Had planned and timed those words exactly, just to make them hurt.

It worked.

I shuddered when I heard her start to laugh, somewhere in the back of my mind.

XxXXxX

 

[Ryuugi]

XxXXxX

We leave the shelter the moment the elements subside, stumbling blindly back into the darkness and the deafening noises of the screams. ItÆs just as well, in my eyesùas far as I was concerned, being blind and deaf is nothing but an improvement over being forced to listen to Annabeth scream.

But even as we continued on, Tartarus refused to let up. The temperature lowers ever further still, but for brief periods when it gets so hot that it almost literally burns. The sounds get louder except when we seem to walk into somethingùanother tunnel, perhapsùbut whenever they do it seems only to let us heard things worse than screams. When voices arenÆt calling out and exploiting our doubts and fears, there were other sounds to set us on edge. The chattering of chitin against stone, the sound of claws against the ground, the movements and snarling of beastsùsometimes, when it seemed like weÆd walked into the very bowels of the Earth and the screams could only just barely be heard, I thought I could even hear something breathing behind me.

It literally hurt to constantly be on edge. None of the creatures touched us, if there were even any creatures there at all, but it was impossible to relax when you knew a creature could be there, right next to you in the dark, and that at any moment they might come at you, sink their teeth into you, and start tearing you apart.

That was the thing about Tartarusùit wasnÆt static by any means, but it was still always the same. It was some type or manner of horrible and painful and frightening, it was just the way it inflicted those things that changed, ensuring it was never something you got used to and constantly reminding you that no matter how bad it was, it could always get worse. And would happily get that way, in time.

But we continued on through the dark, because what choice did we have. We walked until the wind and the rain and the pain grew too much and we had to fall down in exhaustion and that, I thought, was probably the worst part of Tartarus. The simple awareness that youÆd been ridden to the ground and if your enemies came down upon you now you would be too weak to struggle or run or do anything but die. So instead you sat there, in pain and fear, shaking until the last sparks of energy leave you and you fall asleep.

And then the nightmares came to get you.

I never had the same dream twice, but they were uniformly bad and constantly haunted by GaeaÆs voice and mocking words. Demigod dreams are more than just dreams, however, and that was especially true of mine. Between my nightmares and the images Gaea and Tatarus forced me to see, I witnessed other things, too.

The first thing I saw, each and every single time, was light and each time I couldnÆt help but bask in it after the darkness of Tartarus. Being able to see was something that I only now realized IÆd always taken for granted, with Riptide always beside me, there to light a literal and proverbial candle against the darkness.

But each time I also realized that if darkness hide, light revealedùand what it revealed was not necessarily something you wanted or were ready to see.

The first thing my dreams showed me was what lay aheadùthe Doors of Death. Or at least, the doors on this side. And I realized, not with relief but with dread, why we hadnÆt encountered any monsters down here in Tartarus. Just as I had, they were basking in the light after who knows how long trapped in the dark. Every monster in Tartarus had gathered around the doorway, bathing it the light, cheering and celebrating like theyÆd already won.

Maybe they had. If they wanted to get to the Doors, theyÆd have to fight their way through all those monsters, here where they were strongest.

And there were thousands of them.

Doubt was a feeling I was pretty familiar with. It came with the territory of thinking you were carrying the fate of the world on your shoulders for years. I was used to wondering if I could do it, if I was strong enough, if I was smart enoughùand I was used to thinking about what could happen if I failed. It was frighteningùbut not as bad as this. At times, in the Titan War, IÆd thought I was outmatched, and IÆd spent more or less the entirety of it facing long odds.

But IÆd never truly, honestly thought that it was completely impossible, like I feared this was. They were at their strongest and I wasnÆt. In fact, I was having a pretty hard time trying to remember a time when IÆd felt anywhere near this hungry, cold, and weak ever. In ideal conditions, I thought I might be able to take on a hundredùIÆve done that before, after all. Twice. But IÆd had the Curse of Achilles the first time and a nearby ocean and glacier the secondùand I hadnÆt felt anywhere near as bad as I did right now. I felt like stomped over crap. I probably looked like stomped over crap.

And even if I hadnÆt, even if I was at my best, there was a hell of a difference between a hundred and several thousand. Even if I had the Curse of Achilles again, I was pretty sure IÆd fall over from exhaustion before I got out.

As it was, with no curse, no water, having not eaten in days or weeks, and having worked myself to exhaustion repeatedlyàI donÆt I can do it. I just donÆt think itÆs possible. It was hopeless, especially here in Tartarus. What would I do if I had to fight a Giant, far from any GodÆs help? Or what if Gaea herself awoke? My odds werenÆt so much long as they were nonexistent.

IÆd fight anyway, of course, because impossible or not, hopeless or not, I had to try. Maybe if I reached down deeper than I ever had before and pulled out every ounce of power I had, I might be able to get at least Annabeth out of here. Long odds there, true, maybe even impossible ones, but IÆd gladly die trying if I had to, no matter how hopeless I thought it all was. Some things in life arenÆt about the odds or the probability or the danger and for me, Annabeth was one of them.

But if the first dream made me feel despair, the second one made me mad.