The Abyss and I have a Staring Contest (3)

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{Tartarus, Unknown POV}

Odysseus POV

You know those moments in life when you think, "Hey, maybe things aren't so bad after all"? Yeah, this wasn't one of those.

One second, Tartarus's laughter was booming through the darkness like the world's most terrifying surround sound system. The next, reality decided to play Twister. The black mass around me—my new best frenemy—responded to my desperate wish, and suddenly Melinoe and I were swallowed up, vanishing from one spot and reappearing somewhere else.

"Odysseus," Melinoe said, her voice tight with urgency, "I think I can get us somewhere safe." She grabbed for the half-black, half-white whistle hanging around her neck. But before she could do her ghostly conductor routine, we saw him.

Tartarus. Standing right in front of us, again, because apparently instant teleportation is just another Tuesday for him.

Have you ever seen a black hole up close? Neither have I, but I imagine it looks a lot like Tartarus's face—if black holes had a thing for spirals and cosmic horror aesthetics. His face spun slowly, like the world's most ominous hypnosis wheel. The laughter was gone, replaced by a silence so heavy it felt like it could crush mountains.

I could feel his power pressing down on us. Gravity itself seemed to bow to his will, as if Newton's laws were more like Newton's gentle suggestions when Tartarus was around. He hadn't just found us—he had let me think I could escape. Classic villain move, really. I'd appreciate the dramatics if I wasn't, you know, about to be cosmic dust.

"Did you think you could run, nephew?" His voice was quieter now, but trust me, that didn't make it any less pants-wettingly terrifying. It rumbled through the ground like a distant avalanche, sending tremors through the cracked, black stone beneath my feet. I half expected the ground to split open and swallow us whole. Knowing my luck, it probably would have spit us right back out at Tartarus's feet.

I had no answer. No plan. My mind was racing faster than Hermes on espresso, but coming up empty. I needed to buy time for whatever Melinoe had in mind. A part of me—the part that wasn't frozen in terror—didn't want to trust her. But hey, beggars escaping primordial beings can't be choosers.

The black mass began to stir again, reacting to my rising desperation like an overeager puppy made of nightmare fuel. It slithered up my arm, pulsing with a rhythm that matched my heartbeat. I could feel it urging me forward, pushing me toward an action I wasn't sure I was ready for. But what other choice did I have? Make small talk with Tartarus about the weather in the depths of, himself?

The spear was still in my hand, the black mass crawling over it like it was trying to give it a makeover. I tightened my grip and let the black mass crawl further up my body. It was like being swallowed by the world's friendliest tar pit.

And then things got weird. Well, weirder.

I felt myself growing—literally. My body expanded as the black mass covered me, my muscles swelling like I'd just gone through puberty in fast forward. My bones groaned under the weight of it all, probably wondering what they'd done to deserve this. The world seemed to shrink as I towered above the cracked earth. My spear, once a regular weapon, was now a colossal toothpick in my hand.

I'd grown to the same size as Tartarus. The black mass writhed around me, forming massive, shifting fists. For a brief, beautiful moment, I thought I might actually have a shot at this.

Spoiler alert: I didn't.

With a roar that would have made the Nemean Lion proud (and possibly a little jealous), I lunged at Tartarus. The black fists struck out in a frenzy, pounding against his massive form with enough force to shatter mountains. Each blow felt like I was punching through the fabric of reality itself, leaving aftershocks in the air.

But here's the thing about fighting a primordial being: it's like trying to punch a tsunami. You might make a splash, but the ocean doesn't care.

The fists, no matter how powerful they seemed, turned to mush the moment they made contact with Tartarus. The black mass splattered against his spiraling form, absorbed into the whirl of his being like cotton candy in a tornado. It was as if I were fighting a whirlpool, each strike being pulled in and dissolved faster than you can say "existential crisis."

And Tartarus? He didn't even flinch. Didn't react at all. I've had more response from statues. At least they have the decency to look unimpressed.

Frustration boiled over inside me, and I roared again, this time swinging my spear. The blade glowed with that strange purple light, thrumming with the same eldritch energy that had overtaken me. I aimed for his center, hoping to pierce whatever essence made him corporeal. But just as before, the spear glanced off him, the tip dissolving into the spiral as if it had never existed at all.

It was like trying to stab a black hole with a toothpick. A really big, glowy toothpick, but still.

I couldn't keep this up. My body was screaming in protest, my limbs heavy with exhaustion. Most importantly, my left arm—I could feel it changing, whatever it was, was spreading. It was all the way up to my elbow now, and I knew that after this, it would be gone. Sacrificed to whatever this incantation was.

The black mass around me began to slow, its movements sluggish as if it too were being drained by the endless pull of Tartarus's power. Great. Even my magical tar buddy was getting tired.

"Odysseus!" Melinoe's voice cut through the haze of battle, sharp and urgent. I turned, just in time to see her raise the whistle to her lips again.

Now, I've heard some weird sounds in my life. The shriek of harpies, the bellow of the Minotaur, the collective groan of campers when dad announced a greek gods pop quiz. But this? This was something else entirely.

When Melinoe blew that whistle, the sound resonated through my very soul, vibrating in parts of me I didn't even know existed. The air around us shimmered, and I felt a shift—a pulling sensation, like the world was being dragged toward her.

And then I heard them.

Ghostly trains, their forms barely visible through the mist that had begun to rise from the ground, barreled toward Tartarus. There were eight of them, each one roaring like a storm given form, their wheels screeching as they raced forward. It was like the weirdest, most terrifying model train set ever.

Seven of the trains hit Tartarus head-on, crashing into his spiral form with a force that shook the ground beneath me. The impact was so intense, I half expected to see Tartarus go flying like a cosmic bowling pin. But no such luck. He stood firm, the trains dissolving into his being just as my fists had. It was like watching the world's most destructive magic trick.

But the eighth train... oh, the eighth one wasn't for Tartarus.

It barreled toward us, and before I could react (cut me some slack, I was still caught up in the whole fighting a primordial while being eaten by my own power thing), Melinoe yelled, her voice synchronizing with the whistles of the train, "Get in!"

Now, when a ghost goddess tells you to jump on a speeding spectral locomotive, you don't ask questions. You just do it.

I let go of the black mass keeping up my giant form, throwing it towards Tartarus in a wave. It was like reverse-silly-stringing a primordial being. Then, I did what any sane demigod would do—I threw myself into an open window of a moving ghost train.

Have you ever tried to gracefully enter a moving vehicle? Now imagine doing that when you're exhausted, possibly dying, and the vehicle in question doesn't fully exist on this plane of reality. Yeah, it went about as well as you'd expect.

I stumbled forward, nearly face-planting on the spectral floor. Melinoe appeared at my side, keeping me awake. "Odysseus, don't go to sleep," she urged, her eyes wide with fear. "We need more time."

The moment we landed, I felt the pull behind us intensify. Apparently, Tartarus wasn't a fan of the whole "escape by ghost train" plan. The gravitational force he commanded increased tenfold, dragging the very train toward him. It was like being on the world's worst roller coaster, where instead of loops and corkscrews, the big attraction was "get pulled into a primordial void."

The black mass around me stirred again, trying to fight back, but I could feel its strength fading. It was like trying to bail out the Titanic with a teaspoon.

"Odysseus, don't go to sleep," Melinoe shouted again, her voice cutting through the fog of exhaustion that was threatening to overwhelm me. "I think I know where we can go, but you have to keep us moving!"

I nodded, gritting my teeth. The black mass responded to my will, turning into giant tendrils. Half of them surged outward towards Tartarus, while the other half latched onto the train, trying to push us forward, away from the crushing force of Tartarus's gravity.

Every inch we gained felt like a mile. The pain in my left arm was now unbearable, like someone had replaced my blood with liquid fire. It was as if the very life was being drained from me with every effort I made. I'd always wondered what it felt like to be a battery, and let me tell you, it's not fun.

The darkness behind us seemed to swell, the spiral of Tartarus growing larger as the train fought against the pull. I could feel the black mass reaching its limit, no, not its limit, my own. My left arm felt like it was trying to secede from the rest of my body, the pain now all the way up to my shoulder. My vision blurred as exhaustion took hold, the edges of the world starting to fade to black.

And then, just as I thought I couldn't push any further, just as I was about to call it quits and ask Tartarus if he had any openings for "slightly used demigod," something happened.

A shadow fell over us.

I glanced up, barely able to focus, and saw it—a black mantle, like the night itself had decided to join our little escape party. It descended over the train, wrapping around us like the world's largest, darkest security blanket. It covered the entire locomotive in its inky embrace.

The moment it touched us, I felt the pull of Tartarus fade. The gravity that had threatened to crush us suddenly disappeared, like someone had flipped a cosmic switch. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, a moment of eerie calm in the midst of chaos.

Relief washed over me, but it was fleeting. The pain in my body was too much, a reminder that even if we'd escaped Tartarus, I was far from okay. My vision darkened, my limbs growing heavier by the second. I could feel myself slipping, my body finally deciding it had had enough of this whole "conscious" thing.

I fell forward, dimly aware of someone catching me before I could introduce my face to the train's floor. Melinoe's voice reached me, distant and muffled, calling my name. But I couldn't respond. My tongue felt like it was made of lead, and my brain wasn't far behind.

The world around me faded into blackness, and before I knew it, I was falling into a deep sleep. My last coherent thought? "This quest fucking sucks."