Among Divine, I Stand Proud

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of my footsteps echoed through the marsh as I ran, my breath coming in sharp gasps.

ROOOAR!

The Drakon chased after me, its massive body half-lifted off the ground, ready to lunge. I risked a glance over my shoulder, tilting my head just enough to spot its next move. Instinct kicked in—I pushed off the ground, rolling to the side just as the beast crashed down where I had been standing.

THUD!

The impact shook the earth, sending up a cloud of dust and decay. Wasting no time, I pounced. Riptide gleamed in my grip as I drove the celestial bronze blade between the Drakon's thick, overlapping scales. Black blood gushed from the wound, staining the blade's steel and dripping onto the ground like tar. The Drakon screeched, a guttural, piercing sound that vibrated through my bones. It reared up violently, lifting me into the air as I clung to my sword, refusing to let go.

With a sharp tug, I wrenched Riptide free, the blade sliding out slick with the creature's dark ichor. I sprinted along its massive body, my balance wavering on its rough, shifting scales.

Swoosh!

I ducked just in time as the Drakon's tail lashed out, slicing through the air with deadly force. My footing faltered—my boots slipped on the slick scales—but before I could fall, I slammed Riptide down again, burying it deep into the beast's hide. The Drakon roared in agony, thrashing wildly, twisting and turning in desperation.

Then it stilled, just enough to turn its massive head. Hatred burned in its emerald-crimson eyes as they locked onto me. Its pupils shrank, and I knew what was coming.

It opened its mouth wide.

A storm of fire erupted toward me.

Crimson flames roared through the air, their heat suffocating, their hunger ravenous. But I didn't falter. My eyes blazed cerulean, standing out against the blood-red atmosphere of Tartarus. I raised my sword, now pulsing with magical light. The very air around me trembled in response. A familiar pull tugged at my core—I reached for it without hesitation, tapping into the vast power of the sea that resided within me.

The moment the Drakon's flames met the ocean-blue force of my energy, the world erupted into an iridescent explosion, a clash of elements so violent that the ground trembled beneath us.

I didn't stop.

Calling on Hyperion's stolen power, I summoned a beam of pure light and launched it at the Drakon's eyes. The creature howled in pain, momentarily blinded. Seizing the opening, I sprinted toward its head, racing up its scaled body like a shadow of death.

With every ounce of strength I had, I plunged Riptide between its eyes, channeling all my destructive power into the strike.

BOOOOM!

The explosion was instant. The Drakon's head detonated in a violent burst of energy, its monstrous form disintegrating into nothing.

Silence followed, the air thick with smoke and the lingering scent of burnt ichor. I stood amidst the remains, my breath heavy, my grip tightening around Riptide.

Clap. Clap.

"Good job, Perseus."

I rolled my eyes.

Damasen stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his massive form barely shifting in the dim light. "That was quite a large Drakon. Your training is paying off."

Perched regally on his shoulder, Ivory—my golden-eyed, skeletal cat—let out a wide, exaggerated yawn, as if watching me fight for my life had been the most boring thing in the world.

"It's Percy," I muttered, crossing my arms. Then, just to drive the point home, I spelled it out, "P-E-R-C-Y. Percy. Hmph."

"Yes, yes, Perseus, I know how to spell," Damasen replied in an infuriatingly oblivious tone. I knew he was faking it. He found my annoyance amusing.

Ivory stretched lazily and gave a nonchalant "Mew" of agreement. With whom, I had no idea. Probably both of us. Or neither. She just liked to sound superior.

It had been a long while since I found my way back to Damasen in Tartarus.

At first, I'd only planned to stay long enough to figure out a way out of this pit. But escaping Tartarus wasn't easy. That was a lesson I had learned the hard way—one I would never forget.

—A Few Weeks After Reaching Damasen—

I had been recovering for a week.

It wasn't easy. Tartarus had been hellish so far—no surprises there. But living with Damasen had been a rare blessing. No matter how cruel most giants were, he was different. He would always be someone I looked upon favorably.

He had helped me the first time I was trapped here. And he himself had been stuck in Tartarus, unfairly condemned by his mother—Gaea, the Earth herself—because he dared to protect a human friend by slaying a monster.

He didn't deserve this fate.

An eternity in Tartarus, forced to slay the same Drakon over and over again—it was a punishment too cruel. Worse still, the one enforcing it wasn't just his mother. His father was Tartarus itself.

I told him everything that had happened since the last time I was here. How I met Nyx. How I escaped her domain. How I clawed my way out of this pit, defeated Gaea, and somehow found myself back in hell again.

He listened. Intently.

I understood why. An eternity alone was its own kind of curse.

But no matter how much I pitied his fate, I couldn't fully sympathize. Damasen had given up. He had resigned himself to this endless cycle, to the loneliness, to the futility of ever escaping. And while I couldn't blame him—he had been here for eternity, with only eternity ahead—I couldn't accept it either.

I asked him to come with me. To help me search for a way out.

He refused. He always refused.

So when I finally felt strong enough, I left. Ivory curled around my shoulders as I stepped into the endless nightmare that was Tartarus once more.

Months passed. Years, maybe. Time had no meaning here. No matter how long I wandered, how many monsters I slew, how far I pushed myself, I always returned to the swamp. The only difference was the ever-growing number of scars and the weight of all the battles I had fought.

I never found an exit.

Not once.

Damasen would help me each time I returned. He would ask for stories of my adventures, teach me new skills—sewing clothes from Drakon bones, forging swords and daggers from their remains. Once, after I managed to slay a Nemean Lion, he even showed me how to make a sweater from its impenetrable fur.

Every time, I trained. I learned. I searched.

And every single time, I failed.

The flowing streams of orange. The rivers of red, yellow, inky black, and molten lava. They all led to nothing. Sweet, bitter nothingness. A cruel joke.

Tartarus had no pathways, no maps to follow. Its landscape shifted and twisted, ever-changing, rejecting any attempt to navigate it.

The only constants in this forsaken pit?

Three places where I could find a fleeting moment of tranquility—

The Mushroom Forest.

The Hermes Shrine.

And Damasen's Marsh.

I had seen everything Tartarus had to offer.

Curses that whispered my worst nightmares. Furies with burning whips. Ghouls and hellhounds with soulless, hungry eyes. Telkhines, Empousai, every monster imaginable. I had fought them all. Survived them all.

I had crossed landscapes so twisted they defied reality. I had gone months without food, running on sheer willpower alone.

But I had never found an escape.

Not from this forsaken, grotesque land.

Not from this Crimson Cage.

—Time Skip/Back to Present—

"That makes how many now?" I asked Damasen as he hauled the latest Drakon's bones, setting them aside for future use. Ivory strutted beside me, her skeletal frame moving with a regal air as we headed back to Damasen's hut.

"Three hundred eighty-seven?" I guessed.

"Mew," Ivory confirmed, rubbing her bony head against my leg before casually climbing up to perch on my shoulder. I scratched her behind the ears, her golden eyes narrowing contentedly.

"This is exhausting!" I exclaimed, feeling ridiculous for the hundredth time. "How have you done this for so long?"

Damasen's massive shoulders shrugged. "I had an eternity to get used to it," he replied, matter-of-factly. "Also, I am a giant. Living in my father's domain is natural for me. As hostile as it is, it does heal me."

"So healing," I replied with an exaggerated huff. Damasen rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

We reached his hut and stepped inside. It was far too large to be called a mere "hut," but Damasen's towering stature required the extra space. Despite its size, the interior was surprisingly homey and cozy, a sanctuary in the midst of this hellish place.

Damasen began working on the Drakon bones at his cluttered worktable, crafting who-knew-what. Meanwhile, I headed over to our makeshift kitchen. Dinner options were limited—usually Drakon stew or soup made from Tartarean vegetation. Learning to identify which plants were edible and which ones were disguised monsters had been a lifesaver, quite literally.

In Tartarus, knowing your plants from your monsters was essential, especially in places like the mushroom forests, swamps, and savannahs. The difference could mean finding food or finding yourself on the menu.

I grabbed some Drakon meat from an earlier kill and started preparing a stew. It wouldn't win any culinary awards, but it was leagues better than most of the other disgusting options. Plus, it had excellent healing properties—an added bonus in this godforsaken place.

"So, have you figured anything new about my powers?" I asked, stirring the bubbling pot. The abilities I'd gained after defeating the Titans were still a mystery. It was unheard of for someone to inherit the powers of their defeated foes. On Earth, I'd slain plenty of Titans and giants without this happening.

But here in Tartarus, after killing Perses and Hyperion, I'd absorbed their abilities. Only those two—no other monster or giant. It made no sense.

Damasen glanced up, his massive hands deftly carving intricate designs into the Drakon bone. "I still don't know," he admitted, his voice gravelly with concentration. "By all rights, it should be impossible."

I sighed, giving the stew another stir. "I guess I'll just chalk it up to Tartarus being a weird place."

Ivory mewed from her spot on the bed, as if voicing her agreement that Tartarus was, indeed, a weird place.

"Well, the powers are pretty nice," I said casually, slicing through the Drakon meat. "But the way they mess with my eye color is a little annoying. I was pretty fond of my sea-green eyes."

In all honesty, though, the streaks of crimson and gold layered over the sea-green did look kind of badass.

"If that's the only side effect," Damasen remarked, turning to glance at me, "then I'd say you got off easy for gaining such destructive abilities."

I shrugged but couldn't argue. "Fair point."

I returned to cutting the Drakon meat into thinner pieces. Damasen could chew through it effortlessly, but my teeth weren't exactly built for slicing through Tartarean monster flesh. It took some extra effort to make it manageable.

A while later, the food was ready, and I set it on the table. Nothing fancy—just enough to keep me going. For Damasen, though, it was, as he liked to put it, "a pretty decent meal, all things considered."

I shook my head. My life was full of characters. Then again, considering everything, I was probably one too. So… eh.

"So, what's your plan now?" Damasen asked, gulping down his food in less than a minute. For all the fucks he gave about table manners, his field might as well have been barren. At least Ivory was decent… small mercies.

"Gonna head out again?" he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I think so… No point in staying cooped up," I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

It was exhausting—wandering Tartarus for days, weeks, months—only to find nothing. No exit. No way out. Just endless crimson skies and a terrain that shifted like a cruel joke. But I couldn't give up. Not now. Not ever. Not as long as there was breath in my lungs, blood in my veins, and fire in my soul. I refused to let this place break me.

"Maybe in a week," I said at last, forcing a small smile. "After all, I do have a monthly supply of stories to deliver."

Damasen chuckled, a deep rumble that made the walls of the hut tremble. "That you do, kiddo. That you do."

"I miss the cool sea breeze on a quiet night," I sighed, leaning my head back. The weight of Tartarus pressed down on me more than usual today. Ivory, ever perceptive, curled around my shoulder and nuzzled her cheek against mine, as if trying to anchor me.

"I miss the stars," Damasen murmured. "It's been eons since I last saw them."

Something in his voice—raw, hollow—made my chest ache. His fate was worse than death. Being trapped here, bound to an unending cycle, was nothing short of cruelty.

"Damasen, let's leave. Together," I said, trying again, knowing it was futile but unable to stop myself. "Imagine it. A better future—for you."

He shook his head, a small, melancholic smile playing at his lips. "This is my fate, my eternal Asphodel."

"But why?" I pressed. "Who's stopping you? Is Gaea even watching? Is the curse even still active? How do we know—"

"It works," Damasen interrupted with a sigh. "The Drakon returns every day. No matter what. It's part of the curse."

"Then don't kill it," I said, my voice stronger, more determined. "We won't touch the monster."

Damasen stared at me, his tired, ancient eyes unreadable.

"What's the point of this existence?" I continued. "Day after day, slaying the same Drakon in the same swamp. That's not living, Damasen."

He let out a bitter laugh, but it cracked at the edges. "Even if I don't fight it, then what?" His voice wavered, the façade slipping for the first time. "I know nothing beyond this place."

I exhaled, stepping closer. "You don't need to know a place to go there." I hesitated, then met his gaze, holding it. "If you need a destination… then look at me."

Damasen's brow furrowed, but I pressed on.

"My face doesn't belong in this marshland. And if I leave, then so will you."

He let out a long breath, shoulders sagging, then plopped onto the bed, looking more exhausted than I had ever seen him.

"It's futile, Percy," he murmured, as if trying to convince himself.

I wasn't giving up.

Neither of us should.

Convincing Damasen was a chore. I knew he wouldn't come—unless I somehow tricked him. But he was too smart for that. He'd probably tried a million times to escape before he ever met me. What could the words of a delusional demigod mean to someone who had experienced failure for eons?

Whatever. If he wouldn't come, I wouldn't waste my breath. He was my friend, but my struggles were mine alone—just as his were his. I would get out. No matter the cost. No matter what the situation demanded.

"Well, I've tried east, southeast, west, southwest, and south," I sighed, rubbing my temples. After a few seconds, I added, "Guess it's time for northeast."

"You've gone northwest before," Damasen said, suddenly more alert.

"Have I?" I asked, mostly rhetorically. Then it hit me. "Oh… My last trip down? Akhlys' domain, near Night's castle?"

"Yes. The Primordial of Misery and Poison," he said, wincing as if just saying her name left a bad taste in his mouth. "Don't mention her. It's a miracle you survived last time."

"Honestly? She wouldn't even make my top ten worst encounters." I shrugged. Considering I'd thrown her off Tartarus and almost killed her, she was probably the weakest Primordial. "Nyx was way worse…"

An involuntary shiver ran down my spine at the name.

Damasen froze. His eyes darted around as if expecting the shadows to lunge at us. "Don't say their names," he warned, voice deadly serious. "I was there during the great conflict between my father and Night. You don't know their true power." His fingers drummed against the table. "But I suppose… among the Protogenoi, Misery does rank lower than most others. And considering the two others you've faced, she is rather tame."

"Also a little off her rocker," I muttered. The memories weren't pleasant.

"Most likely," he agreed. "But be careful. She's still there. The Abyss is her father, and Night's domain lies just beyond it. She wouldn't have died. A Primordial's death affects the entire world, and as long as misery and poison exist, so does she. Night or the Abyss—one of them must have restored her."

"So if I go back," I started, only for Ivory to let out an angry meow from my shoulder. If she could talk, she'd probably be calling me a halfwit, senseless moron. But her meow sounded more like an exasperated sigh—something along the lines of, Here we go again. She rolled her golden eyes dramatically.

"I'll probably have a very angry Primordial trying to kill me?" I mused. Then, after a pause, I added, "Again. Trying to kill me again."

Damasen muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. "For the love of the heavens, how many Primordials have tried to kill you?"

I tapped my fingers against the table, thinking. "Well… your mother, for sure. Night. Akhlys…" I paused. "And considering how my fate tends to suck, probably the Fates themselves. Tartarus definitely had a hand in making my last visit worse. And while not directly, a friend of mine ran into Eros once…"

Damasen gave me a long, unreadable look before shaking his head. "You are a small bundle of trouble, aren't you?"

"Mew," Ivory agreed and promptly jumped off my shoulder, curling up on the crude bed.

"Only a small bundle?" I shot back, half-serious.

Damasen chuckled.

"I'll leave after I've rested," I said, glancing at Riptide—the one thing that had been with me through everything. Olympus. The Underworld. Around the world. Near Chaos itself. Through Night's domain. And now, Tartarus. I clenched it briefly before slipping it back into my pocket.

I glanced at Ivory, then added, "And after Ivory wakes up."

Damasen nodded, but I knew he thought it was pointless.

—Line Break/A Week Later—

"Come on, girl. Chop-chop," I called to Ivory. The little skeleton kitten immediately jumped off the bed and scurried up my shoulder. I gently stroked her, the sensation strange against her thin, skeletal frame. Despite her fragile appearance, Ivory had become my anchor here. Without her, I would have lost myself long ago.

I turned to Damasen. "You dropping me off at the edge?"

"Sure, it's the least I can do." He stood from his chair, rising to his full height—an intimidating figure.

We left the house and started walking northwest, our usual route. This had become a ritual: Damasen would walk me to the very edge, and then I would leave. After a long while, I'd somehow find my way back. Tartarus' belly, a term I'd once heard from a monster, seemed fitting but gross. To compare this land to Tartarus' physical body? Urgh.

"What do you see beyond the edge?" I asked, wondering why Damasen didn't just step further.

"I see the swamp. For miles, nothing but the swamp..." He paused, his gaze distant. "I keep walking until I end up back at the Drakon."

"So, you don't see other domains? Other terrains?" I asked, taken aback.

He shook his head slowly. "Honestly? I've forgotten how they looked… I've forgotten the warmth of the sun, the feel of a gentle breeze on my face under a beautiful night sky." His voice had a rough edge to it, like the words had been buried for too long.

"Well, if it's just the swamp, we could walk for eternity until we reach the Drakon," I said, shrugging. If the swamp was eternal for him, he wouldn't even know if we left it. Or maybe he would, but only when I told him. This was all so confusing.

Damasen raised an eyebrow. "An odd way to put it, little one. And an odd way to try to persuade me."

"What if I never tell you when the swamp ends?" I asked, my voice taking on a tentative confidence, though my own words made little sense.

"Then we'll both walk the swamp forever," he replied, with finality.

"Imagine walking a land of dark crimson, with no life, no future, just misery. A place so dark, where jagged, poisonous stones pierce the land." I tried to describe the domain of Akhlys, as best I could. "A land where nothing grows, and everything is broken."

"That sounds terrible," Damasen said, grimacing.

"It is. But it's… different," I said quietly.

"Mew." Ivory's soft mew broke through the silence. She was spooked by the darkness in my description. I gently scooped her into my arms, holding her close.

"If you can't imagine it," I said, "then look into my eyes. The green represents the land. The crimson is the sky. The gold is us. And the reflection? That's the reality."

Damasen's lips curved into a faint smile. "You're pretty good at this explanation stuff," he said softly, then turned his gaze to mine. "Are we there yet?"

I glanced around. We had crossed the swamp some time ago, but as soon as we stepped beyond it, it seemed to return. The loop of time was strange, and here we were again, at the edge.

"Look into my eyes and tell me," I challenged.

He gave a sad smile, his expression softening. "Just to appease you…" He met my gaze, and for a moment, he froze. Then, suddenly, he looked away, his voice hollow. "They're empty… full of light."

"How can they be empty, yet full of light?" I asked, my confusion mirrored by Ivory's anxious mew.

"I could see the land… and I saw the destruction…" Damasen's voice faltered, and I could feel the confusion gnawing at my own soul. "The sea… I saw the sea… the light, and the..." He trailed off, and suddenly the realization hit us both.

"I didn't gain their power…" I murmured, the weight of the revelation heavy in the air.

"But their very essence…" Damasen whispered, his tone full of disbelief. "Does this mean… they no longer exist? Or that they're weaker? A fraction of what they once were?"

"I would rather never find out," I said quickly. The thought of facing those Titans again was unbearable. I may have defeated them, but the experience was nothing I ever wanted to repeat.

We stood at the edge of the swamp, unmoving. I gazed beyond it, the vast and terrible land stretching out, belonging to the mistress of misery.

"I can see the Misery," Damasen whispered.

"What?" I asked, unsure if I had heard him correctly.

"Mew!" Ivory jumped in my arms, startled.

"I can see… beyond," Damasen said, his voice filled with awe, the kind you'd hear from a child witnessing something pure and beautiful for the first time. Could the curse be broken?

"Describe it to me," I urged, still struggling to believe he could finally see beyond the swamp. "Tell me what you see."

"It's crimson, as you said… The land is rough, littered with glassy rocks, poisoned and jagged…" Damasen's voice grew heavier with emotion. "The most beautiful sight I've ever seen…"

Hearing him, something overwhelmed me too. His words sent a flood of emotions through me. I couldn't help it—I burst into laughter, the sound light and genuine. Damasen joined in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the terrible land around us seemed to fade.

"Meow!" Ivory chirped, bouncing happily.

As the excitement settled, I turned to Damasen. "So… are you coming now?"

He hesitated. His voice was heavy when he finally spoke. "I don't know if I will ever see the outside again…" His eyes glistened, reflecting emotions long buried. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. "Yes. I can't lose this—I'd regret it forever." His gaze lifted beyond the swamp, toward the desolate, crimson land ahead. "To the land of Misery… shall be my salvation."

Then, for the first time in what must have been an eternity, Damasen took a step forward—out of the swamp. And so, for the first time in my time in Tartarus, I had a companion—aside from Ivory—on my journey.

For hours, we trudged across the rugged, desolate, and poisonous landscape. My powers came in handy in situations like this; I could create a small protective boundary to cleanse the air, keeping the toxic fumes at bay. It was a skill I had honed over time—something I first did after falling into Tartarus for the second time, right after dividing the Styx into two. I still get goosebumps thinking about that. I had literally split the Styx! How?

At first, I had to concentrate to purify the air, carefully maintaining the barrier to keep the poison at bay. But over time, it became second nature, something I could do instinctively. As I adapted, my control over Light and Destructive powers followed the same pattern—what once required conscious effort became effortless. The harshness of Tartarus demanded constant growth, forcing me to push past my limits again and again. Once, the thought of facing a Drakon would have been terrifying. But now? I had slain the Drakon in the swamp so many times that they barely felt like a challenge.

Of course, Titans, Giants, Primordials, and monsters like Kampe, Echidna, and Typhon were in a league of their own. But regular monsters? They didn't faze me anymore. Even most Titans and Giants weren't that frightening—it was just more convenient to avoid them.

"I don't remember seeing those last time," I muttered, eyeing small, thorny, plant-like spirits clustered ahead. They seemed new. My gaze drifted to the various snakes slithering around them.

"Mew," Ivory mewed in interest, staring at a tiny, two-headed snake. It was actually kind of cute—or at least, small and shiny enough to seem harmless.

"Seps," Damasen noted. "Their venom is highly corrosive." He leaned down, studying them. "The two-headed ones are rare… but touching them would be unwise."

"Sorry, Ivory," I said.

She let out a chirp, as if to say, 'Don't worry, unlike you, I enjoy staying alive'.

I sighed and picked her up by her tail, placing her on my head. "Mew," she grumbled in annoyance.

"Now stay there," I said, moodily.

Damasen ignored our antics, too used to them by now. "The spirits and the seps don't seem eager to attack. We should keep moving. If they do, we'll deal with them."

"Works for me," I shrugged.

We continued onward, passing through patches of poisonous plants, twisted thorns, and eerie spirits. At one point, we encountered some Amphisbaena—legless lizards with a face on both their head and tail. Weird. And kind of gross. Apparently, they had been born from the blood of Medusa's severed head when Perseus (the original one) had flown over the desert.

The poisonous landscape stretched endlessly, and we walked for what felt like an eternity. We even passed the spot where I had last encountered Akhlys, but there was no sign of her. Instead of heading toward the Abyss of Chaos, we decided on a different route—one that didn't lead directly to Nyx's castle.

Gradually, the flat terrain gave way to small hills and rivers of poison, the land rising into jagged mountains. And then—

"Do you see that?" I asked, pointing toward a precipice jutting out from a distant mountain. "Something's glowing."

"Glowing?" Damasen squinted, his massive eyes scanning the area. "No… I don't see anything."

"I swear, there's a white glow coming from up there," I insisted. I wasn't imagining it. At least, I hoped I wasn't.

Damasen shrugged. "We can check it out, but I doubt there's a white glow in Tartarus."

He wasn't wrong. White light wasn't exactly common here. The only thing close was the silvery, milky glow from Lethe—but even that wasn't white. Still, my curiosity wouldn't let it go.

We started climbing. The terrain was rough, sharp, and steep. Ivory, of course, had no trouble scrambling up the rocks. Damasen's sheer size and strength allowed him to ascend with ease.

That left me as the only one slowing us down. Typical.

As we climbed higher, a massive tree slowly came into view. Its bark was a blend of black and deep brown, its leaves shimmered in shades of indigo and violet, and its silvery fruits—resembling a strange mix of apples and plums—glowed softly, almost like stars scattered across its branches.

"Interesting... I've never seen anything like this before," Damasen murmured, glancing at me.

"And certainly not in Tartarus—let alone within Misery's poisonous domain," I added, staring at the eerily beautiful yet unsettling tree.

"Meow, meow!" Ivory chirped excitedly, bounding from rock to rock before leaping onto the precipice to get a better view.

"It must be somewhat divine…" I mused as Damasen and I climbed up to join her. "But it's also very likely poisonous."

Damasen took a slow breath, surveying the area. "This place is... peaceful," he said after a moment. "For a place within the domain of the Primordial of Poison, it feels oddly cozy."

I blinked, taking in my surroundings more carefully. He was right. Unlike the rest of the wretched landscape, this place had a soft layer of silvery grass covering the ground. There were no jagged, poisonous rocks, no lurking spirits waiting to strike. And then—

"Are those butterflies?" I gaped.

Vibrant green, yellow, red, and blue butterflies fluttered around, their delicate wings standing out against the bleakness of Tartarus. Ivory, completely enthralled, darted after them, leaping with playful determination. But no matter how fast she pounced, they always flitted just out of reach.

Then I saw them—fawns resting in the grass. Doves perched on low branches. Swans gliding over a small, glistening pond.

What is this place?

"I'm speechless," Damasen admitted, his voice filled with rare wonder. "I never expected to see earthly creatures here… in my father's domain."

"I know… this is weird," I said, still trying to process it all. My gaze flickered to Ivory, still playing, utterly carefree. Then back to Damasen. "This place… it feels too pure."

And then, all at once, we felt it.

Damasen stilled, his eyes no longer roaming in awe. At the same time, my senses erupted into alarm. We turned sharply toward the tree—

And watched as a figure began to descend.

She wasn't Akhlys—that was the first thing I noticed. Then, just as quickly, I knew she wasn't Night either. A silvery glow shrouded her, setting her apart from the oppressive darkness of Tartarus. A minor goddess, most likely. Her magical signature wasn't overwhelmingly strong, but it was… pure. Unusually so.

"Who are you two?" the figure asked, her voice smooth as silk but edged with something sharp.

She had long, flowing blonde hair cascading down to her waist, her face pale and serene. In her hand, she held a staff of some dark wood, its tip fading into silvery white as it curved into a crescent. Her golden eyes flicked over us, pausing when they landed on Damasen.

"You are a Giant," she observed.

"Well… ma'am, we were just—" I began, trying to sound polite. It wasn't like we had knocked before barging into what seemed to be her home. But before I could finish, her head snapped toward me so fast I half expected her to get whiplash.

"You are a Titan?" she asked. Then, before I could correct her, she frowned slightly and added, "No, your signature is too refined. Perhaps some new god? What are you doing in Tartarus?"

"Uh… no. Not a Titan, and definitely not a god," I said awkwardly, glancing at Damasen for support. Why would she think that?

Before I could elaborate, Damasen stepped in. "Dear Goddess, may we know your name?"

Coming from him, the exaggerated politeness was almost funny.

"A Gigantes with manners? Color me impressed," she mused, shaking her head slightly. "I am Achelois, minor goddess of the moon and antidotes," she said with quiet pride before her golden gaze returned to me. After a moment of scrutiny, she narrowed her eyes.

"Not a god, not a Titan… and traveling with a respectful Giant," she murmured, intrigued. "Who are you?"

"I'm Percy Jackson."

Before I could say anything more, she raised her staff slightly—a silent command for me to stop. I did.

"The son of Poseidon?" she whispered, almost in awe. Her eyes glazed over briefly, as if lost in thought, before refocusing. When she spoke again, her voice was firm. "You shouldn't be alive. What are you doing in my sister's domain?"

"Sister?" My eyes widened. "Wait, Akhlys is your sister?"

Damasen winced at the name. Achelois flinched, looking around quickly as if expecting something—or someone—to materialize. Then she turned back to me, her glare sharp.

"Don't say her name!" she hissed. Her staff pulsed with a silver glow. "Do you have any idea how terrible she is?"

"Well… I have—"

Damasen cut me off before I could dig myself a deeper grave. "Achelois, terribly sorry about him," he interjected smoothly. "Can you help us find a way out of Tartarus?"

Achelois tilted her head, shifting her staff to her other hand. A fawn approached her quietly and settled at her feet, unbothered by the tension. Ivory let out a playful meow before tackling another fawn, rolling across the soft, silvery grass.

"A way out?" Achelois echoed, her fingers grazing the smooth wood of her staff. "As a daughter of Night, leaving has never been a problem for me," she admitted, her gaze drifting over the strange sanctuary around us. "And when Asclepius took me as a disciple, it became even easier to traverse different realms."

"But a way for those who can't leave naturally?" She exhaled slowly. "That, I can't say."

"Is there anyone who would know?" I asked, already bracing myself for an answer I wouldn't like.

Achelois hesitated, then sighed. "Well, child, I would not suggest my mother."

I nodded. That much was obvious.

"She is not one to help people," she continued. "She is… cynical. Demanding."

"A rather rude thing to say about your mother," a cool, frigid voice interrupted.

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

"Considering your moniker, 'Daughter'—She Who Washes Away Pain, was it?"

My heart dropped.

The very light seemed to dim, as if the world were being swallowed by an endless abyss. As if a thousand of the darkest nights had merged, leaving behind nothing but pure darkness and void.

Her clothes were a blanket of shadows, reflecting nothing, emanating an oppressive gloom. Her skin—paler than the palest thing imaginable. Her eyes—like twin purple supernovas, burning with an eerie brilliance. Her chariot was wrought from pure Stygian iron, pulled by vampiric horses that snorted wisps of darkness into the air.

Wait… she had wings? What?

"Ah, Perseus Jackson..." Nyx stood up in her carriage, her ink-black wings fluttering as she descended gracefully onto the precipice.

Achelois immediately fell to her knees, trembling. "Mother, I didn't expect you..."

"No one does," Nyx said, amusement flickering in her ever-shifting orbs, which dimmed and flared as if they contained the birth and death of stars. "Get lost, daughter… before—"

Achelois didn't wait for Nyx to finish. She vanished the moment she got permission to leave. After all, Nyx was infamous for her hatred of anything that wasn't miserable, dark, and dreary… and Achelois, from what I had seen, was neither.

Nyx turned her gaze to the not so massive figure before her. "Damasen, the cursed giant," she mused, stepping forward. Every footfall sent tendrils of darkness slithering outward, twisting and curling over the ground. The grass beneath her dress blackened, as though surrendering to her presence.

She was taller than Damasen. Taller than anything had a right to be. A towering figure, nearly forty feet in height—almost as tall as the Athena Parthenos. Her vampiric horses, Shade and Shadow, spewed curses, their voices like whispers of the damned. They spoke of how much they wanted to feast on me, the giant, and the "ungrateful daughter of Night."

"And Perseus Jackson..." Nyx's voice hardened, an undercurrent of anger bubbling beneath her tone. "Don't even think about using your powers. They are pitiful. I have had friendlier spats with my daughter Hemera that unleashed more magic than all of Olympus combined."

"Uh… Lady Nyx…" I tried to speak, but my brain wasn't exactly operating at peak performance under the circumstances. "You… were in the brochure this time."

"Oh, I know," Nyx chuckled darkly. "After all, who escapes me once and dares to come back?"

"Lady Night—" Damasen began, but Nyx lazily waved a hand. Darkness slithered forth, clamping around his mouth in a gag of pure night.

Ivory shivered behind my leg, and the other animals in the small precipice trembled as well, driven to terror by Nyx's mere presence.

"I gave you your two seconds of recognition," she said coolly, casting a dismissive glance at Damasen. "Now shush." Then she turned back to me, her expression alight with amusement. "So, you heard of me in a brochure?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "After last time, I suppose it was a good idea. Especially considering, you know, how I tricked you and ran away."

Nyx hummed, tilting her head. "Well, you were rather short on time, weren't you?"

"Oh, exactly! You know how it is with your half-sister—terribly temperamental. She was waging this whole war..."

Nyx's interest piqued. "Half-sister? Which one?" She leaned down, her supernova eyes burning brighter than the sun itself.

"Gaea," I said, taking a calculated risk. "You know, extremely irritable personality. Apparently a terrible grandmother too—Zeus literally yeeted us to subdue her."

Nyx's face twisted in distaste. "Of course. She has always been a bitch about everything. I don't know why Ouranos and Tartarus favored her, really… such a terrible personality."

I blinked. Was I really having this conversation with the embodiment of the night?

"Right? Like, how much of a degenerate do you have to be to create a new set of children just to get rid of your grandchildren, all so your first batch of kids can rule?" I said, venting a little—though it seemed to be working.

Nyx nodded, somehow looking genuinely offended. "Exactly! And don't get me started on her hypocrisy. She helped the Titans overthrow Ouranos because he threw the Hekatonkheires and Cyclopes into Tartarus, but when the Titans did the exact same thing? Nothing! Not a damn thing!"

"Exactly! Total double standards!" I threw my hands up.

Nyx's throne materialized behind her, formed from pure darkness and speckled with shimmering constellations. She sat down with a huff, still muttering complaints about Gaea.

Shade and Shadow grumbled in confusion.

"So… where were we?" Nyx mused.

"We were talking about how Gaea is a terrible grandmother and, uh, very degenerate," I offered.

"Ah, yes!" Nyx leaned forward eagerly. "You know, I had this whole spat with Tartarus for nearly two millennia because of her nonsense. 'Oh, she's so cute,' 'She's a great mother,'" she mocked, rolling her eyes. "Fuck her being great!"

"Right? A friend of mine once called her 'Queen Dirt-Face.'"

Nyx laughed, her throne pulsing in amusement. "Queen Dirt-Face! That's perfect!"

"Yeah, I mean, how can anyone call her a great mother when she did absolutely nothing while the Titans repeated Ouranos' mistakes?"

Nyx clicked her tongue. "Exactly! At least I'm consistent. I'm always evil!"

"Oh, definitely. That entrance? Wicked." I shivered a little extra for dramatic effect.

Nyx scoffed but smirked, clearly pleased. "You're being extra," she said, though the self-satisfaction was evident on her face. "You should've told me about Gaea's antics last time—I might've helped."

What. The. Hell. If I survive this, I'll start a religion dedicated to dumb luck.

"Oh, I didn't know you hated her as much as we did," I said, my surprise not even needing to be faked. "It was my first time coming face-to-face with a being of your caliber… I was a little scared."

I still am. I have no idea how I'm not already a smear on the ground.

"Scared?" Nyx raised a brow. "You seemed rather confident last time."

"Well… that was my first time meeting a Primordial," I said, scrambling for something convincing. "Your daughter wasn't as, uh… theatrical."

Nyx leaned forward, intrigued. "So it's about theatrics?"

I shrugged. "I mean… scaring someone before even touching them is way more effective."

Nyx grinned, standing up. Her throne pulsed with a wave of dark energy as she expanded once more, her form swelling into a mountain of pure darkness. Her chariot surged around her, and her vampiric horses neighed maniacally. The very light in the air was devoured by her presence.

Oh. Oh, that was a mistake.

She burst into cackles. "Is this scary?"

The entire realm was swallowed in a pre-darkness, a void that somehow seemed to be engulfed by an even purer, deeper shadow. The space around her pulsed with energy so dark, so absolute, it felt like reality itself was unraveling.

By now, only her silhouette remained visible—along with her eyes. Twin supernovas of violet light burned through the suffocating abyss, the embodiment of pure Night staring back at me.

My knees buckled under the pressure of her presence. The blood in my veins fought to keep moving, like it was resisting the weight of something beyond mortal comprehension. The force pressing down on me was unbearable.

And then—cold.

An ice-cold finger touched my chin, lifting my face. The darkness hadn't disappeared. It had merely condensed—focused entirely on her.

Nyx stood before me, now only a few feet taller, yet somehow infinitely more terrifying. Her entire form pulsed with raw, unrestrained power, the sheer energy licking at my skin, burning me just by proximity.

She was an 8-foot-tall nightmare, the most terrifyingly beautiful thing imaginable. Her body was draped in pure, condensed darkness—darkness that wasn't just an absence of light, but something alive, something ancient. Her wings, fused into a singular cloak, rippled through the Tartarean air. Her lips—black as the void—curled into a smirk, and her eyes, endless supernovas, bore into mine.

"Is that terrifying?" she mused smugly, amusement dripping from her tone. "Tell me, Perseus Jackson."

I was almost petrified. My blood strained against the crushing force of her presence. But I knew one thing—if I played along, there was a sliver of a chance I could live.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, I forced my magic to respond. A faint glow flickered in my eyes—nothing compared to Nyx, but enough. I willed the sea's power to aid me, to keep my blood flowing, to stop my body from collapsing under the suffocating weight of Night itself.

"Terrifying…" I panted. Her finger, still resting against my chin, felt more like a dagger of ice. Her nails—razor-sharp obsidian—seemed like they could slice through reality itself. "Would be… an understatement."

She smirked. Then she laughed—a low, rich sound that sent shivers down my spine.

And then, with nothing but a flick of two fingers, she sent me flying.

THUD!

I crashed into a massive tree on the precipice. Pain exploded through my back. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. My vision blurred. My breath shuddered. When I forced my gaze forward, I saw Ivory, unconscious, her golden eyes dimmed. Damasen lay bound to the ground, wrapped in chains of pure darkness, his mouth gagged by the same shadowy force.

Panic clawed at my throat.

Then—Nyx was there.

She crouched in front of me, now the same height as me, her hand wrapping around my neck.

"I haven't had this much fun in eons," she said, her voice laced with glee. "I don't remember the last time someone amused me this much…"

Her touch was pure agony. My skin burned where she held me. Her presence alone was suffocating. She was too strong.

Too much.

"No wonder you're so famous," Nyx chuckled. "Perseus Jackson, the greatest hero to ever live—or love, as many have proclaimed. You're better than that brute, Hercules."

She released me. The moment her fingers left my throat, the toxic Tartarean air felt like the sweetest thing in existence.

"I almost want to keep you as a pet," she mused, tilting her head in mock contemplation. "But… you're not miserable enough." Her lips pursed in thought. "I am the epitome of evil. I can't have a noble hero as a pet…"

I had no response. My throat ached. My lungs screamed. My entire body felt like it had been wrung dry. My blood barely moved in my veins.

"It would be a shame to kill someone like you," Nyx murmured, her tone almost wistful. "You'd make a worthy sacrifice, though…" She tapped her nails against each other, violet sparks flickering in the air. "Choices, choices," she sing-songed. Then she grinned. "Let's play a game, shall we?"

She expected an answer. But I physically couldn't speak.

Her gaze flickered to my throat. "Ah, you lesser divine beings are so fragile…" She waved a hand, and darkness burned through my neck, scorching away the damage. I coughed, blood splattering onto the ground. But I could breathe. I could speak.

I forced out, "What game?"

Anything for survival.

Nyx's grin widened. "Now that's the spirit." She applauded mockingly. In the background, her vampiric horse cackled—an unnatural, bone-chilling sound. "Why can't all lesser creatures be like you?"

"They fear being nothing," I rasped, still struggling to keep my body upright.

Nyx arched an eyebrow. "And you don't? You don't fear being nothing? An ant before the never-ending Night, all-consuming, more powerful than the very gods you've fought for a decade?"

"Among…" I coughed, lifting my head to meet her gaze. "Among the fear… among those who gave up… among the Divine, I stand proud." I spat blood to the side and locked eyes with her. "Ready to lay everything down—for a promise, for a chance, for a future worth living for."

Nyx's grin stretched impossibly wide. "Oh, you terrible child." She shook her head, her black lips twisting in delighted madness. "So wicked… You're so much fun." She laughed again, the sound reverberating through the abyss.

"Well then." Her eyes gleamed. "Let's play this game."

She spread her arms wide.

And her wings—her massive, all-consuming wings—unfurled.

With one powerful beat, she shot backward, rising into the sky. Her form grew larger and larger, stretching until she was an overwhelming colossus of darkness.

"Stand up, Perseus." Her voice boomed through the abyss. "Today, you are the son of no one. You are no hero. Today, you are my toy."

And then they came.

Hundreds of spirits—grotesque, winged, and filled with malice—descended, blotting out the sky.

Nyx chuckled fondly. "Ah, my children have come to watch."

Then her voice turned deadly.

"The game is simple." Tendrils of darkness snaked from her body, twisting through the sky. "I will use the least amount of strength. I will toy with you." She spread her arms, and the abyss itself seemed to tremble.

"If you land a single hit on me, you will be free. I may even help you, in some way…"

Her grin sharpened.

"But if you don't…"

The darkness thickened. The entire world seemed to dim.

"Well." Her voice was almost gentle. "Even my toying is quite rough, after all."

Tendrils of pure Night lashed through the sky.

"I am Nyx. I was here before Olympus, and I will remain long after it is dust." Her voice was an ancient whisper and an all-consuming roar at once.

"And even my touch is often enough to kill."

Chills ran down my spine, but there was no time to dwell on fear. A tendril of pure darkness hurtled toward me, faster than I could react. Desperation took over—I pushed off the tree, throwing myself to the ground, anywhere away from the attack.

BOOOooooOOOM!

The tree exploded into hundreds of splintered fragments. The upper half, severed from its base, crashed lifelessly to the ground, its fruits scattering across the precipice.

Had I the luxury of time, perhaps I would have mourned the beautiful tree. But survival took precedence.

I scrambled to my feet just as another tendril lashed out. I barely dodged it, feeling the impact shake the entire precipice. The ground beneath me trembled violently.

If this rock collapses… If Ivory or Damasen gets hit…

I needed to get down. Fast.

"What's the matter? Tired already?" Nyx's voice rang out, dripping with amusement. She was reveling in my struggle, her laughter echoing like a twisted melody through the darkness.

I gritted my teeth and drew Riptide, uncapping the pen and letting the Celestial Bronze Xiphos unfurl to its full length. The blade gleamed defiantly, an ember against the abyss. My hand instinctively brushed against the Drakon bone daggers sheathed at my waist—gifts from my time in the swamp. They might not be enough, but they were all I had.

Nyx tilted her head, her smirk deepening. Before she could strike, I bolted, sprinting as fast as my body allowed.

"You can't outrun me," she taunted.

A beam of darkness streaked through the air and slammed into the ground just ahead of me. I skidded to a halt, inches from obliteration. The impact site pulsed with dark energy, and without warning, a tendril shot out at me.

I barely had time to react. Instinct took over.

I swung my sword up, parrying the tendril with a desperate slash. Swoosh! The energy recoiled, but before I could recover, another beam of darkness streaked toward me.

This time, my body moved before my mind could process.

I thrust my hand forward, willing my magic to act. The poisonous air condensed, twisting and coiling as an invisible force hurled me backward, away from the incoming blast. Momentum carried me over the edge of the precipice.

Falling.

I had survived worse. I would survive this.

The air tore past me as I plummeted. I reached out with my powers, forcing the elements to bend to my will. The poisonous mist that sought to choke me instead coiled around my body, swirling and twisting like a living storm. Electricity crackled through the air.

I was no longer just falling.

I was commanding the storm.

A hurricane of poison and lightning raged around me, and at its epicenter—I flew.

Nyx cackled, her voice laced with wicked delight.

"Finally! My children—go!"

Her command echoed across the battlefield, and in an instant, hundreds of cursed spirits launched themselves at me. Above, the sky bled darkness, tendrils of pure shadow cascading down like an unholy storm.

I didn't hesitate. I wove the poisonous air around me, shrouding my exact position while manipulating the hurricane to unleash streaks of lightning against the oncoming spirits. The storm crackled and roared, bolts of destruction cutting through the swarm like divine wrath.

Then—pressure. Immense, suffocating.

I barely had a second to react before the largest tendril yet fractured reality itself, tearing through the air like a monstrous blade.

I braced myself, sinking lower into my stance while raising the hurricane higher, using it as a shield.

BOOOOOooooooooOOOOOOOoooOOOMMMMMM!

The tendril of darkness shattered through my hurricane like it was nothing, obliterating the storm in a single strike. But I was already moving—sprinting away from beneath the impact zone.

CRAAASH!

The blast ripped through the terrain, carving through the ground like a knife through butter. The sheer force sent me hurtling through the air, even though I hadn't been directly hit.

I tumbled, wind whipping around me as I struggled to regain control.

Then—the spirits came.

Shrieking, clawing, reaching—they swarmed me midair, attempting to drag me down, tear me apart.

But I still had my sword.

I still had my power.

I could command the sea. I could wield destruction.

And now, I had something else—light.

I reached deep, tapping into the power I had inherited from Hyperion. A burst of golden brilliance erupted from my body, the brightest light I had ever summoned.

The spirits screamed in agony.

"AHHH, CURSED LIGHT!" one wailed.

"YOU SHALL DIIIEEE!" another screeched.

Some simply howled in rage. One particularly enthusiastic one even bellowed—"FOR SPARTA!"

I didn't have time to question it.

One spirit lunged too close, its claws swiping toward me—but my blade was faster.

I swung, channeling pure destruction into the strike. The spirit exploded into a thousand pieces, splattering in an eerie, mist-like gore. The force of the attack caused a minor explosion, momentarily clearing my path.

One problem—I was still falling.

Fast.

I had acted within mere seconds, but I was now dangerously close to the ground. Too close.

I reached for my power. The sea answered.

A torrent of water materialized from nowhere, a crashing flood that engulfed the land.

The impact cushioned my fall, slowing me down just enough. I barely had time to register the strange healing sensation that washed over me as the water embraced me—cool, soothing, rejuvenating.

Then, in mere moments, the water dispersed.

Vanished.

Leaving only me—standing, breathing, alive.

"If you go on like this," Nyx chuckled, her voice dripping with amusement, "you will only entertain me until your death!"

She wasn't wrong.

I was weakening with every attack. She was eternal—I was a demigod. The fact that I had lasted this long was already a miracle. But I had to find a way to hit her.

How?

She hovered high in the air, untouched, untouchable.

The seconds I spent thinking turned out to be a fatal mistake.

The cursed spirits surged forward, a wave of shrieking horrors. Behind them, I could hear the Vampiric Horses cackling manically. From above, I could feel Nyx's amusement—this was nothing but a game to her.

But I refused to die.

Not here.

Not now.

I gritted my teeth and stood my ground, sword in hand, channeling every bit of my sea, destructive, and light powers into its blade.

One spirit lunged.

I yanked a drakon bone dagger from my belt and hurled it, striking true. The cursed thing burst into dust.

More came.

I swung my sword like a maniac, cutting through dozens, but they just kept coming.

Then—darkness cracked like a whip, hurtling toward me. I barely dodged.

Shlick!

I felt fabric tear. My collar was cut open—too close.

I was getting overwhelmed.

Desperation clawed at me.

I stomped the ground, unleashing a massive earthquake. The cursed spirits flinched, some even disintegrated.

But the onslaught didn't stop.

Shlick! Shlurp! Swish!

I swung wildly, but for every ten I cut down, twenty more filled their place.

A familiar tug pulled at my gut—something primal, desperate.

I reached for it.

My eyes burned. My vision blurred.

Blood—my own and the black ichor of the spirits—covered my body.

I let go.

I commanded the wind.

A tempest howled around me, the air bending to my will. Lightning flashed. Spirits died.

Nyx cackled in the distance.

Something inside me snapped.

My anger ignited.

My eyes glowed gold.

A surge of power burned through me.

Then—beams of golden light erupted from my eyes, slicing through everything in their path.

The spirits disintegrated on contact.

I turned—sweeping my gaze across the battlefield—pure destruction.

Then, my eyes met Nyx.

BOOM!

She recoiled, rubbing her shoulder where the laser had grazed her. As if a mere mosquito had bitten her.

The battlefield fell silent.

The darkness in the sky dissipated.

I collapsed to my knees.

Then—face-first into the hard tartarean land.

My vision blurred, my body screamed in pain. I was losing too much blood.

I didn't have enough magic left to heal myself.

This was it.

Then—a voice.

"I am impressed."

Nyx landed gracefully a few feet away, now appearing only eight feet tall.

I barely managed to see her silhouette through my fading vision.

She waved a hand.

Something changed.

The pain eased. The bleeding slowed. I could see again.

Nyx pouted. "A deal is a deal."

Her voice carried reluctance, but also… respect?

"Damn, you are a persistent bastard."

"More than Queen Dirt Face?" I rasped, still dizzy.

She snorted, then huffed. "Don't make me regret my decision, Perseus Jackson."

That was enough to shut me up.

Silence stretched between us.

I was going to live.

Nyx wasn't going to kill me just because I had landed a hit.

Had I really just discovered I could shoot lasers from my eyes? Summon poison hurricanes? Conjure water from nothing?

Nyx sighed, arms crossed. "Bravo, I suppose."

Her expression remained twisted in irritation—but beneath it, there was something else.

Amusement.

"You made me use attacks I haven't used in millennia," she admitted. "It was… enjoyable."

"So… you'll let me, Ivory, and Damasen go?" I asked, too exhausted to play word games.

Nyx huffed. "Yes, yes. My word is ultimate."

She waved a hand impatiently. "Now stand up. I refuse to speak to you while you're sprawled on the floor."

I groaned, pushing myself up with immense effort.

"Poseidon's temper," I muttered. "Okay, I'm up now, Your Nightly-ness."

She glared. "Seriously?"

Then—she punched my shoulder.

"Ouch—!"

Nyx smirked. "I am still a Primordial, demigod."

She tossed me a small object.

I barely caught it.

A compass.

"What is this?" I asked, opening it. The needle pointed southeast.

"Follow it," she said. "It will lead you out of Tartarus."

I stared at the device, then back at her.

Nyx scanned the battlefield, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I haven't had this much fun in aeons," she admitted. "My children die and are reborn, but this excitement… it comes only once in a dozen millennia."

I coughed, still dizzy. "Glad I could… help?"

"Though it was quite painful," I added.

Nyx chuckled darkly. "I should leave before I change my mind."

Then—she smirked.

"After all, someone so cute…"

She extended a single, delicate finger, tracing it lightly across my chest.

For a second, I froze.

What was she doing?

It felt like I was being toyed with—prey under a predator's gaze. A wave of nausea rolled through me, though it was easy to mask beneath the dizziness already clouding my senses.

"I might just forget," she murmured, her voice laced with something dangerous, "...that you're a hero. That you're noble."

I swallowed.

"Well—"

"Don't dig your own grave," she advised, stepping back. "My promises are concrete."

With that, she turned.

Her chariot appeared as if summoned by the darkness itself.

She climbed aboard, regal as ever, her eyes glinting with one last flicker of amusement—just for a second, it curved into a smirk.

Then—she was gone.

I looked down at the compass, then at the spot where Nyx had stood moments ago. "Damn… I'm alive." A shudder ran through me. I almost felt… violated. But I didn't say it aloud. Who knew if the Primordial was still listening?

The silence left in Nyx's wake was deafening. My body screamed in exhaustion, but my mind… my mind latched onto the one thought that mattered most—Ivory.

Damasen and Ivory. Oh God!

Panic surged through me. Was she okay? Was he okay?

Ignoring my exhaustion and dizziness, I pushed forward, forcing my body to move faster. Soon, I caught sight of the fallen tree—the one that had belonged to the minor moon goddess. A pang of sadness hit me. Had this tree been her symbol? If so… this was tragic.

I climbed the precipice, scanning the area frantically. "Damasen! Ivory!"

Then I saw them.

Ivory was curled up, shivering. Damasen lay on the ground, panting heavily, as if the fight had drained every last ounce of his strength. I rushed over, gently gathering the skeleton kitten in my arms. She trembled against me, her tiny body pressing into my chest as I wrapped my ragged upper clothes around her in an attempt to give her warmth.

"Mew," she whimpered, nestling closer.

"Everything's okay," I murmured, stroking her gently. "We even have a way out of Tartarus."

"Meow?" she asked hopefully, lifting her head slightly.

"You can sleep for now," I reassured her. She yawned and, within seconds, was fast asleep.

I turned my attention to Damasen, walking over carefully. "You okay?"

He let out a ragged breath. "That was…" He shuddered. "The single worst experience of my existence." His massive frame trembled. "I knew Primordials were strong, but she subdued me with just a flick of her hand…"

"Yeah… she was something else," I admitted, the memory sending another shiver down my spine. The last part of our conversation still unsettled me—the way she had spoken, the way she had touched my chest. She was… creepy. Unpredictable. Terrifying.

The very landscape of Tartarus seemed to react to my thoughts. For just a moment, the oppressive darkness lightened, as if acknowledging the truth.

"And yet… you survived her," Damasen said, still in awe. "That's unbelievable. The fact that you did it before is even more impressive, considering what I just experienced."

I swallowed, realizing just how much I had endured. "Yeah… more impressive than I ever imagined." A flicker of pride settled in my chest. "And this time, she even gave me a reward."

Damasen blinked. "A reward?" He sounded completely dumbfounded.

I held up the compass, watching as the needle pointed steadily southeast. "Surviving Night has its perks. This will lead us out of Tartarus."

Damasen stared at me, then at the compass, then back at me. "You have to tell me the full story."

I let out a tired chuckle, adjusting Ivory in my arms. "Oh, trust me, it's a wild one."