EVERYTHING WAS BLURRY.

Val was on Bob's shoulder, she thought. But from this high up, the only thing that she can imagine is falling, falling to her death — and she screams. It's gotten to the point where she's had to bite on the fabric below her. Her jaw ached, but some part of her still sensed that there were monsters everywhere.

But the world was still blurry below her, if visible at all. She could feel a lot of things, but she didn't know what they were. Pain clouded everything. No place in her body was spared from pain. It was as if every cell in her body was on fire, then frozen, then back again.

Her vision and mind swam in and out. Val saw rainbows at one point, in a world of red and green — fitting, considering she was somewhere on the spectrum, she labeled herself as 'Annabethsexual' and called it a day — and she saw a cafe with the scent of coffee and dogs.

And then she heard a roar, effectively breaking that fantasy of hers and immediately shadow traveling.

"What the heck . . ." Val whispered, sitting up, then yelped as something moved on her. It was Small Bob. Her body relaxed as she pet the cat, but she frowned. How did she have the power to shadow travel?

And where the heck was she?

"Tina?" There was a giant bed, and Annabeth was looking over it for her. Val met her gaze and sent her a small, reassuring smile, looking down and still petting the skeleton cat. Gods, she loved animals.

"How much do you remember?" Annabeth asked.

"I killed a lot of things," Val said, frowning in concentration. "And I was falling. There were rainbows. Or was that just me?"

Then, Val saw a giant looming over the bed and nearly screamed. "There is no time, little mortals. The drakon is returning. I fear its roar will draw the others — my brethren, hunting you. They will be here within minutes."

Annabeth acted as if this was normal. "What will you tell them when they get here?"

The giant's mouth twitched. "What is there to tell? Nothing of significance, as long as you are gone."

He tossed Percy, who was sitting on the bed, and Annabeth two leather satchels, then offered one to Val. "Clothes, food, drink."

Bob was wearing a similar but larger pack. He leaned on his broom, gazing at Annabeth.

"The Prophecy of Eight," Annabeth said.

Percy had already climbed out of the bed and was shouldering his pack, helping Val up. He frowned at Annabeth. "What about it?"

Annabeth grabbed the giant's hand, startling him. His brow furrowed.

"You have to come with us," she pleaded. "The prophecy says foes bear arms to the Doors of Death. I thought it meant Romans and Greeks, but that's not it. The line means us — demigods, a Titan, a giant. We need you to close the Doors!"

Something — a drakon? — roared outside, closer this time. The giant gently pulled his hand away.

"No, child," he murmured. "My curse is here. I cannot escape it."

"Yes, you can," Annabeth said. "Don't fight the drakon. Figure out a way to break the cycle! Find another fate."

The giant shook his head. "Even if I could, I cannot leave this swamp. It is the only destination I can picture."

Annabeth's mind raced. "There is another destination. Look at me! Remember my face. When you're ready, come find me. We'll take you to the mortal world with us. You can see the sunlight and stars."

The ground shook. The drakon was close now, stomping through the marsh, blasting trees and moss with its poison spray. Farther away, Val heard the voice of the giant Polybotes, urging his followers forward. "THE SEA GOD'S SON! HE IS CLOSE!"

"Annabeth," Percy said urgently, "that's our cue to leave."

The giant took something from his belt. In his massive hand, the white shard looked like another toothpick; but when he offered it to Annabeth, Val realized it was a sword — a blade of dragon bone, honed to a deadly edge, with a simple grip of leather.

"One last gift for the child of Athena," rumbled the giant. "I cannot have you walking to your death unarmed. Now, go! Before it is too late."

"We must leave," Bob urged as his kitten climbed onto his shoulder.

"He's right, Annabeth," Percy said.

They ran for the entrance. Val followed Percy and Bob into the swamp, but she heard the giant behind them, shouting his battle cry at the advancing drakon, his voice cracking with despair as he faced his old enemy yet again.

* * *

Val felt homesick for the swamp.

She never thought she'd miss sleeping in a giant's leather bed in a drakon-bone hut in a festering cesspool, but right now that sounded like Elysium.

( At least, she thinks she slept in it. Panic shadow traveling tends to make you lose what happened before the panic. )

Val, Annabeth, Percy, and Bob stumbled along in the darkness, the air thick and cold, the ground alternating patches of pointy rocks and pools of muck. The terrain seemed to be designed so that Val could never let her guard down. Even walking ten feet was exhausting. Though maybe that was the shadow travel.

Val had started out from the giant's hut feeling strong again, her head semi clear, her belly full of drakon jerky from their packs of provisions. Now her legs were sore. Every muscle ached. The cold affected her too much for always being cold.

Her focus narrowed to the ground in front of her. Nothing existed except for that and the crew in front of her.

Thanks to panic shadow traveling, she was too weak to walk fast, so here she was. Watching Percy hold Annabeth's hand every ten seconds.

After Annabeth's talk with Damasen, the giant, Val was worried about her. Annabeth didn't give in to despair easily, but as they walked, she wiped tears from her eyes. Val knew she hated it when her plans didn't work out. She was convinced they needed Damasen's help, but the giant had turned them down, which was a shame. Val liked him.

She wondered what had happened after they left Damasen's hut. She hadn't heard their pursuers in hours, but she could sense them. Thanks, senses.

"This place is worse than the River Cocytus," Percy muttered.

"Yes," Bob called back happily. "Much worse! It means we are close."

Wonderful, Val thought. She noticed Small Bob the cat had hidden himself in Bob's coveralls again, which reinforced her opinion that the kitten was the smartest one in their group. She debated getting Dobermans — the only dogs that liked her, thanks to her father — but she couldn't succumb them to down here.

"We're together," Annabeth reminded Percy, taking his hand. "We'll get through this."

Speak for yourself, Val thought. She wondered why Nico hadn't contacted her since she'd given him that letter.

"Yeah," Percy agreed. "Piece of cake."

"But next time," Annabeth said, "I want to go somewhere different on a date."

"Paris was nice," he recalled.

"I'd settle for New Rome," she offered. "As long as you're there with me."

Val stopped to throw up. She hated it here.

The darkness dispersed with a massive sigh, like the last breath of a dying god. In front of them was a clearing — a barren field of dust and stones. In the center, about twenty yards away, knelt the gruesome figure of a woman, her clothes tattered, her limbs emaciated, her skin leathery green. Her head was bent as she sobbed quietly, and the sound shattered all Val's hopes.

She realized that life was pointless. Her struggles were for nothing. This woman cried as if mourning the death of the entire world.

"We're here," Bob announced. "Akhlys can help."

* * *

If the sobbing ghoul was Bob's idea of help, Val was pretty sure she didn't want it.

Nevertheless, Bob trudged forward. Val felt obliged to follow.

"Akhlys!" Bob called.

The creature raised her head, and Val's stomach turned as if she was going to throw up again.

Her body was bad enough. She looked like the victim of a famine — limbs like sticks, swollen knees and knobby elbows, rags for clothes, broken fingernails and toenails. Dust was caked on her skin and piled on her shoulders as if she'd taken a shower at the bottom of an hourglass.

Her face was utter desolation. Her eyes were sunken and rheumy, pouring out tears. Her nose dripped like a waterfall. Her stringy gray hair was matted to her skull in greasy tufts, and her cheeks were raked and bleeding as if she'd been clawing herself.

Val couldn't stand to meet her eyes, so she lowered her gaze. Across her knees lay an ancient shield — a battered circle of wood and bronze, painted with the likeness of Akhlys herself holding a shield, so the image seemed to go on forever, smaller and smaller.

"That shield," Annabeth murmured. "That's his. I thought it was just a story."

"Oh, no," the old hag wailed. "The shield of Hercules. He painted me on its surface, so his enemies would see me in their final moments — the goddess of misery." She coughed so hard, it made Val's chest hurt. "As if Hercules knew true misery. It's not even a good likeness!"

Val let out a small snort. That was true. Hercules knew nothing about misery, compared to Val. God forbid they got an easy mission.

"What's his shield doing here?" Val asked.

The goddess stared at her with her wet milky eyes. Her cheeks dripped blood, making red polka dots on her tattered dress. "He doesn't need it anymore, does he? It came here when his mortal body was burned. A reminder, I suppose, that no shield is sufficient. In the end, misery overtakes all of you. Even Hercules."

Val tried to remember why they were here, but the sense of despair made it difficult to think. Hearing Akhlys speak, she no longer found it strange that she had clawed her own cheeks. The goddess radiated pure pain.

"Bob," Percy said, "we shouldn't have come here."

From somewhere inside Bob's uniform, the skeleton kitten mewled in agreement.

The Titan shifted and winced as if Small Bob was clawing his armpit. "Akhlys controls the Death Mist," he insisted. "She can hide you."

"Hide them?" Akhlys made a gurgling sound. She was either laughing or choking to death. "Why would I do that?"

"They must reach the Doors of Death," Bob said. "To return to the mortal world."

"Impossible!" Akhlys said. "The armies of Tartarus will find you. They will kill you."

Annabeth turned the blade of her drakon-bone sword, which Val had to admit made her look pretty intimidating and hot in a "Barbarian Princess" kind of way. "So I guess your Death Mist is pretty useless, then," she said.

The goddess bared her broken yellow teeth. "Useless? Who are you?"

"A daughter of Athena." Annabeth's voice sounded brave — though how she did it, Val didn't know. "I didn't walk halfway across Tartarus to be told what's impossible by some minor goddess."

The dust quivered at their feet. Fog swirled around them with a sound like agonized wailing.

"Minor goddess?" Akhlys's gnarled fingernails dug into Hercules's shield, gouging the metal. "I was old before the Titans were born, you ignorant girl. I was old when Gaea first woke. Misery is eternal. Existence is misery. I was born of the eldest ones — of Chaos and Night. I was—"

"Yes, yes," Annabeth said. "Sadness and misery, blah blah blah. But you still don't have enough power to hide three demigods with your Death Mist. Like I said: useless."

Percy cleared his throat. "Uh, Annabeth—"

She flashed him a warning look, and looked at Val: Work with me. Val realized how terrified she was, but she had no choice. This was their best shot at stirring the goddess into action.

"I mean . . . Annabeth is right!" Percy volunteered. "Bob brought us all this way because he thought you could help. But I guess you're too busy staring at that shield and crying. I can't blame you. It looks just like you."

Akhlys wailed and glared at the Titan. "Why did you inflict these annoying children on me?"

Bob made a sound somewhere between a rumble and a whimper. "I thought — I thought—"

"The Death Mist is not for helping!" Akhlys shrieked. "It shrouds mortals in misery as their souls pass into the Underworld. It is the very breath of Tartarus, of death, of despair!"

"Awesome," Percy said. "Could we get two orders of that to go?"

Akhlys hissed. "Ask me for a more sensible gift. I am also the goddess of poisons. I could give you death — thousands of ways to die less painful than the one you have chosen by marching into the heart of the pit."

Around the goddess, flowers bloomed in the dust — dark purple, orange, and red blossoms that smelled sickly sweet. Val's head swam.

"Nightshade," Akhlys offered. "Hemlock. Belladonna, henbane, or strychnine. I can dissolve your innards, boil your blood."

"That's very nice of you," Percy said. "But I've had enough poison for one trip. Now, can you hide us in your Death Mist, or not?"

"Yeah, it'll be fun," Val said.

The goddess's eyes narrowed. "Fun?"

"Sure," Val promised, putting on her signature grin and her light, airy voice. "If we fail, think how great it will be for you, gloating over our spirits when we die in agony. You'll get to say 'I told you so' for eternity."

"Or, if we succeed," Percy added, "think of all the suffering you'll bring to the monsters down here. We intend to seal the Doors of Death. That's going to cause a lot of wailing and moaning."

Akhlys considered. "I enjoy suffering. Wailing is also good."

"Then it's settled," Val said. "Make us invisible."

Akhlys struggled to her feet. The shield of Hercules rolled away and wobbled to a stop in a patch of poison flowers. "It is not so simple," the goddess said. "The Death Mist comes at the moment you are closest to your end. Your eyes will be clouded only then. The world will fade."

Val raised an eyebrow. "That'll be on August tenth, I bet. But we'll be shrouded from the monsters?"

"Oh, yes," Akhlys said. "If you survive the process, you will be able to pass unnoticed among the armies of Tartarus. It is hopeless, of course, but if you are determined, then come. I will show you the way."

"The way to where, exactly?" Annabeth asked.

The goddess was already shuffling into the gloom.

Val turned to look at Bob, but the Titan was gone. How does a ten-foot-tall silver dude with a very loud kitten disappear?

"Hey!" Percy yelled to Akhlys. "Where's our friend?"

"He cannot take this path," the goddess called back. "He is not mortal. Come, little fools. Come experience the Death Mist."

Annabeth exhaled and grabbed Val's hand. "Well . . . how bad can it be?"

Percy laughed. "Yeah. Next date, though — dinner in New Rome."

"Spare me the details," Val pursed her lips. "I swear if I survive, I'm going on a week long trip to London before I die."

They followed the goddess's dusty footprints through the poison flowers, deeper into the fog.

unedited but honestly idgaf i just took my first ap test ever !!! i can't be bothered to edit this and i'm skipping my spanish class because i am not doing a speaking test.

<3 maybel