The Tour Continues

{Tartarus, Unknown POV}

Odysseus POV

You know that feeling when you're leaving a party and you're not sure whether to hug the host or just wave awkwardly? Yeah, try multiplying that by a thousand when you're saying goodbye to the goddess of night, and your step mom, in the depths of Tartarus.

I stood at the threshold of Nyx's mansion, trying not to think about the fact that the living room literally contained a void of ultimate chaos. Talk about extreme interior decorating.

"Well," I said, turning to Nyx, "it's been... interesting. Thanks for the hospitality and the temporary arm. Really appreciate it. Don't suppose you've got a 'Get Out of Tartarus Free' card hidden away somewhere?"

Nyx's starry eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, Odysseus. You always were one of my more entertaining children. Do try not to die out there. It would be such a shame."

"I'll do my best," I promised, though in Tartarus, staying alive was about as easy as teaching a Cyclops to use bow. "If I meet any of my other siblings, I'll definitely tell them to come visit. You know, if they're into the whole 'realm of eternal darkness' vibe."

Nyx's grin made the constellations in her dress swirl ominously. "Why thank you, my child. And perhaps... a mother's embrace might shield you, for a time."

Before I could ask what she meant (or politely decline), Nyx stepped forward and enveloped Melinoe and me in her wings. Suddenly, we were plunged into darkness deeper than a teenager's existential crisis. It was cold and vast, like being suspended in space without a spacesuit. Not recommended, trust me.

Just as I was starting to wonder if this was Nyx's idea of a practical joke (gods and their humor, am I right?), the darkness began to dissipate. We found ourselves outside the mansion, but something felt different. The air around us seemed... muffled somehow, like we were wrapped in the world's creepiest invisibility cloak.

"What did you do?" I asked, my voice sounding strangely distant, as if I was speaking through a drive-thru intercom.

"I've cloaked you in a fragment of my essence," Nyx's voice whispered from the shadows. "It will hide you from Tartarus' gaze, but only as long as you don't use that incantation of yours. Use it wisely."

And with that cheerful sendoff, we were on our own again. I turned to Melinoe, who looked even paler than usual, which I didn't think was possible. It was like looking at a goth ghost's ghost.

"Well," I said, trying to inject some optimism into my voice, "shall we get going? I was thinking we could form one of those ghost trains of yours. You know, all aboard the Tartarus Express! Choo choo!"

Melinoe shook her head, her mismatched eyes filled with exhaustion. "I can't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've burned through most of my souls while fighting Tartarus and getting us to the Mansion of Night. Without monsters or new souls to power it, the train is basically worthless."

Fantastic. Our primary mode of transportation was out of commission. I ran my purple hand through my hair, trying to think. "Okay, no ghost train. That's fine. We'll walk. It's not like Tartarus is that big, right?" I let out a nervous laugh that sounded about as convincing as a Minotaur trying to pass as a regular cow.

Melinoe just stared at me, clearly not appreciating my attempt at humor. Tough crowd.

I sighed. "Alright, serious question time. Do you know where the exit to the Labyrinth is?"

Her eyes lit up with recognition. "Yes, I know of it. It's not far, relatively speaking."

"Well, that's pretty good," I replied. "We'll be able to get the drop on Kronos and his minions if he hasn't already gotten out. Which if he had it basically meant that all of my suffering would have been for nothing."

She nodded solemnly. I was starting to think that the Mansion of the Night had creeped her out more than she was letting on.

And so we set off, two unlikely companions in the depths of Tartarus. Melinoe glided silently beside me, her form flickering like a candle in the wind. I continued to clench my restored fingers and arm, an exhilarating feeling to say the least

The landscape of Tartarus was as cheerful as ever. Rivers of fire cut through plains of shattered glass. In the distance, I could see mountains that looked suspiciously like giant, half-decayed corpses. The air smelled of sulfur and despair, with a hint of rotten eggs thrown in for good measure. You know, just your average stroll through the pit of eternal damnation.

"So," I said, trying to break the oppressive silence, "what goddess are you exactly? I haven't really heard about you before. Is 'Goddess of Awkward Silences' taken?"

 Luke POV

I stood with the empousai, my mind wandering back to the Laestrygonian who had been with me a few days ago. Big, strong, and about as subtle as a sledgehammer, but even he hadn't been enough. The Cyclopes tore him apart faster than teenagers demolishing a pizza. But in the end, I had also killed each and every one of them. My power had grown, and it was showing. Yay me, I guess?

"We're here," said Liz, one of the empousai. Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Her face, a twisted mix of beauty and nightmare, was unsettling enough, but the sight ahead of us was far worse.

My heart did a series of Olympic-level gymnastics in my chest as I saw him—Kronos. He was thirty feet tall, towering over everything like the world's angriest skyscraper. His brutal golden eyes gleamed with a malevolent intelligence that made standardized tests look friendly. His black, curly hair fell like shadowy waves around his face, and his long, unnervingly pointed beard gave him the look of an evil wizard who'd forgotten to trim for a few millennia.

His body was wrapped in dozens of black shackles that seemed to blink in and out of reality, making him appear as if he was vanishing and reappearing with every flicker of the chains. It was like watching the world's most terrifying strobe light show.

The empousai knelt before him, their monstrous forms suddenly submissive. I could feel the weight of Kronos' gaze on me, cold and all-powerful. When he spoke, his voice was like knives scraping against stone.

"Bring the bag closer," Kronos commanded, his voice seeping into my bones like the world's creepiest ASMR.

I swallowed hard and stepped forward, this was it, this was the beginning of change to help demigods everywhere and curbstomp all the gods who claim themselves as our parents.

From the bag, I pulled out Zeus' Master Bolt and Hades' Helm of Darkness. As soon as I removed them, they floated from my hands, as if drawn by some invisible force toward Kronos. At the same moment, Backbiter—the sword I'd carried a few months—ripped free of its sheath and joined them, twisting and warping midair like it was auditioning for a metal-bending competition.

I watched in awe as my sword transformed into something far more sinister—a scythe. The blade was enormous, sharp as the edge of time itself, and when it finished its metamorphosis, a replica of Backbiter clattered to the ground before me.

The Helm of Darkness began to pulse, radiating shadows that crawled toward me, inducing a cold, primal fear deep in my chest. I shivered, despite myself, as the shadows seemed to whisper promises of death and madness. Even the empousai beside me recoiled slightly, their fear evident in their wide, predatory eyes.

Lightning crackled around the Master Bolt, its raw energy striking out at the shackles, charging the air with power. The sound of the electric snaps made me flinch. 

With a deafening crack, the scythe slashed downward, cutting through the shackles like they were made of paper. The chains fell to the ground in smoking piles, and I could feel the shift in the air as Kronos stood taller, freer. The Helm of Darkness floated onto his head, casting his face into even deeper shadow, and the Master Bolt flew into his left hand while the scythe rested easily in his right.

I stood there, trembling, as Kronos turned his gaze on me once more. His golden eyes glowed brighter, his presence filling the space with a crushing pressure. I bent down and picked up the replica of Backbiter, feeling its weight in my hand, but it was cold now—just a shadow of the weapon it had once been. Story of my life, really.

Kronos looked at me, a wicked grin curling on his lips, his voice reverberating through Tartarus itself as he spoke.

"Time for the Golden Age to reappear."