Highway to Tartarus

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{Camp Half-Blood, June 4th, 2006}

Thalia's POV

You know that feeling after a long nap where your head aches and you're disoriented, not quite sure where you are? Multiply that by a million, and that's how I felt. First, it was like I was being stitched together, tossed around, and then—bam—I hit something hard.

I blinked rapidly, my eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden influx of light and color. Wait, how could I even see? The last thing I remembered was running with Annabeth, Grover, and Luke. We'd faced the Furies, battled hellhounds, and then... oh, right. I got run through by Tisiphone's claws and then struck by lightning. A sharp, piercing headache sliced through my skull as fragmented memories came rushing back.

The smell of pine needles filled my nostrils, mixed with the scent of strawberries and fresh grass. Camp Half-Blood. I was home, but how? And why did everything feel so... different?

Once I managed to get my bearings, I realized what—or rather who—I had collided with. A boy, maybe around fifteen, stood before me. He had pale purple eyes that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light, and black hair that fell to his shoulders in gentle waves. His face was a mix of emotions - shock, relief, and something else I couldn't quite place.

Before I could react, he threw his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. Soft sobs escaped him, like the whimpers of a lost child finally found. The warmth of his body against mine felt strangely familiar, comforting even.

"Finally," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I got you. I got you."

Strangely enough, I wasn't creeped out by the situation or the boy's sudden affection. In fact, I felt a sense of completeness, a feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time. And I don't just mean since my time as a tree. It was as if a part of me that I didn't even know was missing had suddenly been returned.

After a few moments, the boy pulled himself together, helping me to my feet before letting me stand on my own. My legs nearly gave out, feeling like jelly beneath me. Before I could stumble, he steadied me with a gentle but firm grip. As he withdrew his hands, I noticed something peculiar—his left hand had only two fingers, and his right was missing a pinky. The sight sent a chill down my spine. What had happened to him?

My eyes drifted up to his face, studying him more closely. His cheeks were still damp from the tears he'd shed moments ago, but now a light blush colored his face. There was something familiar about him, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. Before I could ask who he was, he spoke again, scratching his cheek with his right hand.

That's when I noticed the tattoo—a Greek helmet on the back of his hand. The image triggered something in my mind, a memory just out of reach. There was only one demigod I knew with that mark, but it couldn't be... could it?

"Welp, I gotta go, Thalia. See you later." His voice was casual, but I could hear the strain beneath it, as if he was forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

"Wait, Ozzy—" The name left my lips before I even realized I knew it.

But before I could finish, the boy—Ozzy—sank into his shadow, leaving me alone on the hill. The sudden departure left me reeling, more questions flooding my mind. How the hell did I come back? Why did Ozzy only have a few fingers left? What happened to his eyes? Why did he leave so suddenly? And where in Hades was he going?

I turned around, taking in my surroundings properly for the first time. The familiar sight of Camp Half-Blood spread out before me, but something was off.

My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed I wasn't completely alone. Two black-haired animals—a Tibetan mastiff and a fox—sat nearby, watching me with intelligent eyes. Perched on the dog were three crows, all of which I recognized, though I couldn't explain how. Each of them had a sorrowful, almost mournful, expression.

"Randy," I called to one of the crows, the name coming to me instinctively. "Where did Ozzy go?"

The crow hesitated before responding, its voice surprisingly human-like, "Master probably wouldn't like it if I told you."

"I don't care," I snapped, frustration and confusion fueling my anger. "Tell me now, or so help me Zeus, I'll turn you into Kentucky Fried Crow."

The crows squawked in alarm, flapping their wings as they took off into the sky. I watched them go, a mix of annoyance and regret washing over me. Great, I'd scared away my only source of information.

"Do any of you speak?" I asked, turning to the remaining animals. The mastiff barked, and the fox let out a cackle that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"Great. Just perfect," I muttered, frustration bubbling up inside me. I began trudging down the hill towards the Big House, the fox and the dog trailing behind me. My legs still felt weak, and every step was a struggle, I was really out of shape for some reason. Still I walked forward, if anyone knew were Ozzy was going it had to be Chiron. He had to.

I looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers. They felt stiff, unused. My whole body felt that way, actually. Like I was wearing a suit that didn't quite fit right. I wondered idly if this was how all trees felt when they became human.

The thought almost made me laugh. Here I was, worrying about how trees felt, when I should be focusing on finding Ozzy. That boy had some serious explaining to do.

"Ozzy," I muttered under my breath, "I'll find you, bring you back, and then we're going to have a serious talk about what you think a good goodbye is."

I walked closer, and closer to the Big House, being followed by the mastiff and the fox. Just as I reached the porch of the Big House, the door swung open. Chiron stood there his eyes scanning everywhere, a letter in his hand.

"Thalia?" he asked, his eyes widening. "Is it really you?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "Yeah, it's me. I... I need your help, Chiron. Something's happened. Ozzy—"

"So he's gone already," he said. "Come in we have much to talk about."

As I followed Chiron into the Big House, I couldn't shake the feeling that whatever Ozzy was up to, it was dangerous. And somehow, I knew that I needed to find him, to help him. I just hoped I wasn't too late.

{D.O.A Recording Studios—Los Angeles, June 4th, 2006}

Odysseus' POV

I materialized in the midst of the dead, surrounded by drifting souls. Some of the spirits recoiled at my sudden entry, wisps of ethereal mist curling away from me. I paid them no mind. My focus was solely on the task ahead, I had done everything I wanted to before plunging into the pit so now I only had one thing in mind.

Within a few strides, I approached the front desk. Behind it sat a tall, elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached blonde hair shaved in military style, he was wearing a white Italian suit, his hollow eyes fixed on a magazine.

"Charon," I said, my voice low and commanding. "Bring me down. Now."

The ferryman of the dead looked up, his empty eye sockets somehow managing to convey annoyance. "You know the rules," Charon responded, his voice a dry rasp that sent shivers down my spine. His fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the desk.

With a thought, a dark tendril slithered out from my shadow. It deposited a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills on the counter before retracting back into the me. Charon's hollow eye sockets seemed to gleam as he picked up the money, running his fingers through it with a satisfied smirk.

"That's more like it," he muttered, stashing the bills away in a drawer that hadn't been there a moment before. With a nod, he stood, his suit rippling and changing into a long black robe. He opened a hidden door behind the desk, gesturing for me to follow. "Well then, time to go."

Without a word, I stepped through the door and boarded the small, rickety boat that waited on the other side. The Stygian waters lapped against its sides, dark and foreboding. Charon took his place at the helm, his hands gripping the oar with practiced ease.

As we pushed off from the shore, I couldn't help but think of Thalia, for a moment, just one moment I thought of spending more time with her, like I had in my Misery Dreams, but then I thought how it ended and I knew I had to do this first, spending time together with the rest of the campers could be done later.

The journey across the Styx was silent, I simply looked at the polluted river filled with broken toys and torn up diplomas, wanting to jump in, but without anyone to pull me out that was basically suicide.

As we neared the far shore, where the Styx flowed into the black abyss of Tartarus, Charon brought the boat to a stop, the current of the Styx pushing us forward little y little. The edge of the pit loomed before me, the Styx and three other rivers' waters plunging down.

"Thanks," I muttered to Charon, my voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, a disgusted look on his face as he looked down to the pit.

"Good luck, lil bro," he rasped. "You're gonna need it."

With a determined breath, I stepped off the boat. I closed my eyes for a moment, steeling myself for what was to come. Then, without further hesitation, I jumped into the pit.

The shadows closed around me as I descended into the depths of Tartarus, the world above quickly fading from view. The air grew thick and sulfurous, burning my lungs with each breath. Darkness enveloped me, broken only by occasional flashes of red light from somewhere far below.

As I fell, I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever see the surface world again. But it didn't matter. I had a job to do, a world to save. And nothing, not even the terrors of Tartarus, was going to stop me.

The fall seemed to last an eternity. For the first time ever, I realized I was scared of the darkness that surrounded me, because I knew that the shadows cast here didn't belong to me.