The Pit

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{Tartarus, Unknown Time}

I kept falling and falling, an endless descent into the abyss. It felt like I had been plummeting for days, yet there was no wind, no sound—nothing but the silent cascading waters of Cocytus and Phlegethon on either side of me. Time seemed to lose all meaning in this forsaken pit.

Finally, something different caught my eye. Land was etching closer, the two rivers diverging at the bottom of the chasm. Acting on instinct, I unfurled a tendril from my shadow. It slithered around my arm, coiling tightly around my wrist before lashing out towards Phlegethon. The dark extension tore through the river of fire, impaling the wall of the pit and helping me decelerate.

The sudden change in velocity made my stomach lurch, but I gritted my teeth and held on. As I neared the ground, I braced myself for impact. My feet hit the ashen surface with a bone-jarring thud, and I rolled to disperse the force of the landing. When I came to a stop, I lay there for a moment, panting heavily.

That's when I noticed it—the air felt wrong. Each breath was a struggle, as if the very atmosphere was rejecting my presence. I pushed myself to my feet, only to stumble as a wave of weakness washed over me. Something was very wrong.

I raised my hand to wipe the sweat from my brow, and that's when I saw them—angry red blisters forming on my skin. They spread rapidly, covering my arms and, I assumed, the rest of my body. The pain was excruciating, like being slowly roasted alive.

I also realized something, I was weaker, or at least I was getting weaker. I didn't let that thought bother me much, I first needed to get rid of the effects that Tartarus was having on my body.

My eyes darted to the nearby river of fire, Phlegethon. According to myths, drinking it's waters was the only way to mitigate the effects of Tartarus, of course it was a myth more than anything else since no demigod had entered Tartarus and come back alive. But, It was the only thing, I could think of.

I scrambled towards the river, my legs slightly doubling over, after all the fall had been fucking huge. The moment I reached its banks, I cupped my hands and scooped up the liquid fire. It burned—gods, did it burn—but I didn't hesitate. I brought it to my lips and drank deeply.

The water, if you could call it that, was almost boiling as it rolled down my throat and into my stomach. For a terrifying moment, I thought I'd made a terrible mistake. Then, gradually, the pain began to subside. The blisters on my skin started to fade, and breathing became a little easier.

I took a few more sips for good measure, each one less agonizing than the last. As my mind cleared, I tried to take stock of my situation. I was in Tartarus, alone, with my powers severely weakened. And somewhere in this literal hellscape was Luke, with Zeus's master bolt, probably making his way to Kronos.

I plunged my hand into my shadow—thankfully, this ability still worked, even if it felt muted. I retrieved a small, ornate compass. It had been a while since I last used it, after all Lailaps' tracking skills were better than this, but since she wasn't here this was my best option.

I held it in my palm, focusing my thoughts on Luke and the bolt. The needle began to spin wildly, whirling faster and faster until it became a blur. I waited, hoping it would settle on a direction, but the needles never settles.

"I expected it, but gods dammit," I muttered, frustration welling up inside me. The compass hadn't worked in the labyrinth, or to locate Luke when he first escaped . When I get back, I'll give it to Beckendorf, maybe he can improve it.

With a final sigh, I placed the compass back into my shadow. As I did so, my fingers brushed against something else—a can of Pringles. Despite everything, I couldn't help but salivate. Leave it to me to pack junk food for a trip to literal hell.

As I pulled out the can, I started thinking about ways to find Kronos and by extension Luke. "Maybe I should have brought Lailaps, after all," I said to myself, my voice sounding strange in the oppressive atmosphere of Tartarus. "Her tracking would be useful right about now."

I popped open the Pringles, the familiar sound a surreal contrast to my surroundings. As I munched on a chip—it tasted like ash in my mouth—I tried to formulate a plan.

I was in Tartarus, arguably the most dangerous place in existence for a demigod. My powers were weakened, my usual tricks weren't working, and I had no idea where Luke was or how to find him. Oh, and let's not forget the countless monsters that called this place home—monsters that would love nothing more than to tear apart the demigod that probably killed them (I had killed a lot).

"Well, Ozzy," I said to myself, "you've really outdone yourself this time."

I finished the Pringle and stored the can back in my shadow. No use leaving trash in Tartarus—knowing my luck, it would probably come to life and try to kill me.

Standing up, I took a moment to survey my surroundings. The ground beneath my feet was a mixture of sharp obsidian shards and gritty ash. In the distance, I could see mountains that seemed to be made of fleshy, pulsating tissue. The air was hazy with blood-red mist, and occasionally, I'd catch glimpse of dark shapes moving in the gloom.

I tried to recall everything I knew about Tartarus from the myths and stories. It was said to be as far below Hades as the Earth was below the heavens. It was a place of torment for the wicked, a prison for the Titans, and the birthplace of monsters.

But knowing the stories and experiencing the reality were two very different things. The very air seemed to whisper of ancient evils and unimaginable horrors. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to run, to find a way out, to abandon this foolish quest.

But I couldn't. The fate of the world rested on my shoulders. If I failed, if Luke succeeded in whatever plan he had for the master bolt, it could mean war between the gods. And a war between the gods would make Tartarus look like a picnic.

I took a deep breath, wincing at the burn in my lungs. "Okay, Ozzy," I said, trying to psych myself up. "You're in Tartarus. Your powers are on the fritz. You have no idea where Luke is. But you're still alive, and where there's life, there's hope."

I looked down at my hands, flexing what little of fingers, I had left. The blisters were gone, thanks to the Phlegethon, but I could still feel the my slightly weakened muscles. Finally I formulated a plan.

Tartarus was the birthplace of monsters, right? And monsters talked. If a demigod had passed through here, chances were some of the locals had noticed. All I had to do was find one and... persuade it to share what it knew.

 That was my plan, basic I know, but that's the only thing I could think off. Find a monster, preferably one that l didn't hate my guts, which was probably the more difficult part. Get information. Try not to get jumped by them and die in the process. Simple, right?

I picked a direction at random—in Tartarus, one way seemed as good (or bad) as any other—and started walking. My feet sank slightly into the ashy ground with each step, and I tried not to think about what—or who—I might be walking on.

As I trudged along, I kept all my senses on high alert. Every shadow could hide a threat, every sound could be a monster lying in wait. 

But I pressed on. I had to. Somewhere in this nightmarish realm, Luke was out there with the master bolt. And I was the only one who could stop him, and if that didn't work I had left some precautions behind.

"Not even, two years and I'm away from camp again," I muttered under my breath "After this, I'm gonna take a long, nice rest."