Chapter 12: The Fall

As soon as Nico let go, he regretted it. He wished he hadn't let go just so he could see the cheerful, sunny side of Will. The confident, fierce side of Will. The courageous, stubborn, annoying, doctor side of Will. Seeing the sad, broken, and devastated side of Will was one of the only things he couldn't ignore. It was one of the only things that could reduce him to tears. And that's what it did then, as he fell, letting a few droplets make their way down his cheek. But he didn't need to feel sorry for himself. Sure, he was falling into Tartarus. Yes, he'd broken his boyfriends heart by choosing to fall. And, yeah, he had a Titan after him-but not just any Titan. He had Kronos after him, the Titan of Time, who he had faced off against in the Battle of Manhattan alongside his dad. Oh, how he wished he were there instead. The battle had been awful, of course, but anything was better than falling back into Tartarus for....what, the third time? At this point, he'd lost track. He was tired. He was scared. He was mad. He didn't like the fact he was alone, going into Tartarus, again. He didn't like that it would take nine days alone to fall. He also hated that he didn't know how long he would be in the worst part of the land of the dead. His side hurt. Maybe his ribs had been broken? And he was pretty sure that the warm, sticky liquid coming from his forehead was blood. Ok, when he put it like that, maybe he should've felt sorry for himself. But he didn't. He gripped the hilt of his sword, and turned around in midair, seeing Tartarus for what felt like the millionth time. And he had no veil to cover the true wasteland of it. He remembered how Annabeth had described it. A place of pain and suffering, for both mortals and gods, designed to hurt them with acidic air, waters of sadness, the Rover Cocytus, and the ground was broken glass. The atmosphere was gray, and the clouds looked to be made from blood, but he didn't think they were. He then realized he was getting closer to the ground. With a rage filled scream, he thrust his hand out, then thought better of it. If he passed out here, alone, he would be vulnerable, open to an attack. And that wouldn't be good. So, instead, he let himself land in the broken glass, ignoring the pieces that cut and stuck in his skin. For a minute, he lay there, panting, gathering the strength he had left. Then, he sat up, and pulled the glass from his skin. He ripped pieces of fabric from his jeans to wrap around his hands, his head, and....oh. "Marone!" He cursed in Italian. There was a bone poking through his ankle. He tore off another piece of his jeans, and braced himself, knowing this would hurt. Then, he wrapped it around his ankle tightly, putting the bone back in place. For now anyway. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, thankful he had packed a can of nectar and a bag of ambrosia. He drank a little sip of nectar and broke off a piece of ambrosia. He didn't want to use up what he had in one go. Then, he walked to the River of Fire, and cupped some in his hands. He brought it up to his mouth, and tipped it down his throat, falling to the bank, thrashing and shaking as the fire coursed through him. Gods, he'd forgotten what it felt like. And the way it tasted. Once it stopped, he stood, and took a step forward. His ankle exploded in painflames so bad, he almost fell over. But he used the tip of his sword to steady him, like a walking cane, and limped along. This was probably going to be the hardest time. Going through Tartarus again, alone and injured. He hoped Kronos wasn't anywhere near him because, honestly, he had this gut feeling, like he knew the Titan had been released from his prison, and was wondering around. "Whether he finds me, or I find him, this is all going to end. I'll make sure he doesn't escape this wretched place." And he believed he could stop the Titan. But, even if he believed, that wasn't the same as knowing.