Doom is funnier than you'd imagine (2)

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{Tartarus, Unknown POV}

Odysseus POV

"Well, well," a voice oozed with amusement, sounding like gravel being crushed under the weight of impending disaster. "What were you two doing snuggling in a burrow? How lewd."

I opened my mouth, ready to unleash one of my patented snarky comebacks, but for once in my life, words failed me. I looked at Melinoe for a second her half white and half black form before feeling some blood rush to my cheeks. 

Thankfully, Melinoe didn't suffer from the same verbal paralysis.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the gloom. It was like seeing this guy had flipped a switch inside her, bringing her consciousness fully back from her time in the Mansion of the Night.

The god tilted his head and let out a dramatic sigh that would've made even the most seasoned theater kid jealous. "Oh, I'm just following some of my cattle. You know how they are, always wandering off... head-first, of course."

His grin widened, and I swear his ash-gray skin cracked even more, like a dried-up riverbed in the middle of a drought. I tried to make sense of what he was saying, but before I could untangle the weirdness, I leaned toward Melinoe and whispered, "Who is this guy?"

Apparently, I wasn't as quiet as I thought, because the stranger launched into a monologue that would've made Shakespeare proud. He threw a hand over his chest, looking like he was auditioning for the role of 'Most Tragic Figure in the Underworld.'

"Oh, how it pains me, dear brother! To not even be recognized by my own kin. Have you truly forgotten me, so enthralled with a ghost as you are?"

I blinked, feeling like I'd just been hit with a truck full of confusion. "Brother? What are you—"

Melinoe cut me off with a huff that could've extinguished a small fire. "This is Moros," she said, her voice flatter than a pancake that's been run over by a steamroller. "The god of Doom. One of Nyx's children."

Of course. Moros. I should've known. The green flames in his eyes, the air of inevitable catastrophe that clung to him like a bad cologne—it all clicked into place. I'd been told about him once by Chiron saying something like Shakespeare had been inspired by this guy. Moros was a personification of doom, the force that led mortals toward their inevitable fates.

I straightened up, trying to shake off the lingering tension from his dramatic performance. "Right. Well, Moros, Nyx wants to have a little family visit. She was talking about getting the whole brood together."

At the mention of Nyx's name, Moros twitched. It was just a flicker, barely noticeable, but there was something in his reaction—something that told me this guy wasn't exactly thrilled about a reunion with his mom. Maybe the last family game night hadn't gone so well.

Still, he recovered quickly, plastering a cracked smile back onto his face. "Ah, Mother always was fond of her little gatherings. How quaint." He waved a hand dismissively, as if the very thought of it was too tedious for words. "But alas, I'm busy. My cattle need me."

I arched an eyebrow, glancing at the trail of destruction left by those skull-dragging monsters. "Right. The cattle. Let me guess, they're a real handful? Always getting into udder trouble?"

Moros let out a bark of laughter that sounded like rocks in a blender. "Oh, you have no idea. They're my pride and joy, though. You could say I'm very... attached to them."

I groaned inwardly. Great, not only was he the god of doom, but he was also the god of terrible puns.

"Goodbye, Moros," Melinoe said, her voice so cold it could've given frostbite to a polar bear. She was already walking away, clearly eager to put as much distance between us and the god of doom as possible.

I followed, keeping an eye on Moros, half-expecting him to melt into the shadows like a proper god of doom should. But to my surprise—and growing discomfort—he didn't disappear. Instead, he started walking right after us, his footsteps echoing in the eerie silence of Tartarus.

I glanced back at him, feeling more than a little unnerved. "Uh, why are you still following us?"

Moros raised a brow, a grin creeping back onto his cracked face. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just... bored."

"Bored?" I repeated, incredulity slipping into my tone. "You're a god, aren't you? Can't you find something more entertaining than... us?"

He sighed dramatically, as though the mere thought of finding entertainment in Tartarus was a herculean task. "Oh, believe me, I've tried. But after eons of watching mortals meet their doom, even the most spectacular deaths lose their charm. I could use some... new company."

I glanced at Melinoe, who was giving Moros the kind of look you'd give a stray dog that you didn't want to get too close to. Clearly, she wasn't thrilled about the idea of having a third wheel, especially when that wheel was the god of doom himself.

"Look," I said, turning back to Moros, "we're kinda in the middle of something important here. You know, world-ending prophecy, impending doom, fighting Kronos—stuff that might not be your style."

Moros chuckled, his voice like dry leaves rustling. "Oh, impending doom is exactly my style. In fact, you could say I'm doomed to love it."

I groaned. "Listen, Doom Boy," I said, trying to keep my cool, since I still felt a bit flustered about what he had said before. "We appreciate the... offer of company, but you're not exactly our first choice of travel companion right now."

Moros feigned a pout, though his flaming eyes flickered with amusement. "Oh, don't be so cruel, Odysseus. I think we'd make quite the team. After all, isn't doom just another word for destiny?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but then stopped. Technically, he wasn't wrong. But the idea of being tailed by a god who literally thrived on watching things fall apart wasn't exactly appealing. It was like having a walking, talking bad luck charm following you around.

"Look, just—" I began, but then stopped myself. What was I even supposed to say to a guy like Moros? 'Go find a hobby?' 'Take up knitting?' 'Maybe try your hand at stand-up comedy?' (Though, judging by his puns, that last one might be a bit of a stretch.)

Instead, I tried a different approach. "Moros, if you're so bored, why not go meet up with Nyx? She's probably got something that'll keep you entertained. I was with her a few days ago and she could really use the company."

Moros laughed again, but it was a hollow sound, like wind whistling through an empty skull. "Again with my mother, it's a tempting offer, but I think I'll stick with you two for now. After all, it's not every day I get to watch a demigod throw himself at certain death for fun. It's quite... inspiring."

I rubbed the back of my neck, exchanging a glance with Melinoe. "Well, if he wants to tag along," I muttered, "it's not like we can stop him." I. Ean we probably could but we didn't have time to waste dealing with this guy.

Melinoe's expression was unreadable, but I could tell she wasn't happy about it either. "He won't leave us alone until he's amused," she whispered back, her tone grim. "Best to just ignore him and focus on getting to Kronos."

Ignoring a god of doom? Easier said than done. It's like trying to ignore a neon sign flashing "YOU'RE DOOMED" right in your face.

With a sigh, I started walking again, hoping that Moros would eventually get bored and wander off. But as we trudged through the desolate landscape of Tartarus, his presence was a constant shadow. He didn't say much, thankfully, but every now and then, I could feel his gaze burning into the back of my skull—those green flames flickering with a mix of amusement and... something else.

We walked in silence for what felt like hours, days, weeks, you could never tell in Tartarus. The twisted landscape shifted around us, dark and jagged, with the occasional screech of some unseen horror echoing in the distance.

I tried to focus on the task at hand—reaching Kronos, finding a way to stop him—but it was hard with Moros lingering just behind us, humming to himself like this was all some grand joke. Every now and then, he'd make some offhand comment about the scenery or throw in a cryptic remark about how "fate" was a fickle thing, but for the most part, he stayed quiet.

As we approached what seemed like the edge of an enormous plateau that almost reached the sky Melinoe suddenly stopped. She turned to me, her face set in that determined, stoic mask she had been wearing when Moros decided to join our full ride.

"We're close," she said softly. "The labyrinth exist is at the top."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I knew this moment was coming, but now that it was here, the weight of it hit me like a ton of bricks. Kronos. The titan of time. The Crooked One. And it was up to me—Odysseus, to stop him and without my incantation or I'd risking having another bout with Tartarus again and I wasn't exactly itching for that.

While thinking of that I looked at my purple arm. After leaving Tartarus I'd lose it, probably since we would be so far away from Nyx's domain, something I wasn't exactly happy about.

"Great," I said, my voice coming out more strained than I intended. "Let's get this over with."

Before we could take another step, Moros chimed in from behind us, his tone playful yet laced with dark anticipation. "Oh, this is going to be fun. I hope you're ready for a real... time."

I shot him a glare but kept moving, ignoring the knot tightening in my chest. "You know, for a god of doom, you sure seem chipper about all this."

Moros shrugged, his cracked skin shifting like tectonic plates. "What can I say? I always look on the bright side of death."

We descended into the abyss, the shadows growing deeper, the air thicker with the stench of death and decay. Whatever awaited me down there—whether it was doom, destiny, or both—I knew one thing for sure: this wasn't going to end well.

But hey, when has it ever?

We started climbing, the plateau thinking of what traps I could set up once we reached the top to have the best chance at beating Kronos. Melinoe moved silently beside me, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning for any sign of danger.

Moros, on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. He practically skipped along behind us, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like "It's the End of the World as We Know It."

"You know," he said, breaking the tense silence, "I've always wondered what would happen if Kronos and I arm-wrestled. Would time slow down, or would doom speed up? It's quite the paradox."

I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore him. But Moros wasn't one to be ignored easily.

"Oh, come on, Odysseus," he prodded. "Don't look so glum. Sure, you're about to face certain doom, but at least you're facing it with style. And hey, if things go south, just remember: in the game of life and death, everyone's a loser eventually."

"Thanks for the pep talk," I muttered, towards the fourth step brother I had met throughout my life, that was conceived by a primordial being. "Really feeling the love here."

Melinoe shot Moros a look that could've frozen lava. "If you're not going to be helpful, at least be quiet."

Moros held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll be as quiet as the grave. Which, coincidentally, is where you might end up soon."

As we reached the top I saw something that made my blood run cold. The plateau was huge bigger than even football stadiums, above the plateau a small hole in the dark sky that I couldn't see where it led, and worse of all were the people on the plateau. 

Monsters hundreds of them, yet that wasn't the bad part. In the center of them all were six figures that caught my eyes. And at the center of it these I saw him, thirty feet tall, brutal golden eyes, curly back hair and an unnerving pointy beard. A scythe in his right hand, a bolt in his left and a helm on his head.

Kronos.