CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
SILVIANA    DUVALL

Getting killed by Tartarus didn't seem like much of an honor.

As Sylvie stared up at his dark whirlpool face, she decided she'd rather die in some less memorable way—maybe falling down the stairs, or going peacefully in her sleep at age eighty, after a nice quiet life with Percy. Yeah, that sounded good.

It wasn't the first time Sylvie had faced an enemy she couldn't defeat by force. Her time in Tartarus had taught her that was her cue to stall for time with some nonsensical chit-chat.

Except her voice wouldn't work. She couldn't even close her mouth. For all she knew, she was drooling as badly as Percy did when he slept.

She was dimly aware of the army of monsters swirling around her, but after their initial roar of triumph, the horde had fallen silent. Sylvie and Percy should have been ripped to pieces by now. Instead, the monsters kept their distance, waiting for Tartarus to act.

The god of the pit flexed his fingers, examining his own polished black talons. He had no expression, but he straightened his shoulders as if he were pleased.

It is good to have form, he intoned. With these hands, I can eviscerate you.

His voice sounded like a backward recording—as if the words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected. In fact, everything seemed to be drawn toward the face of this god—the dim light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even Sylvie's own fragile life force. She looked around and realized that every object on this vast plain had grown a vaporous comet's tail—all pointing toward Tartarus.

Sylvie knew she should say something, but her instincts told her to avoid doing anything that would draw the god's attention.

Besides, she couldn't say anything. The pain in her ribs stole the words, leaving only strained, shallow gasps. Each breath felt like shards of glass slicing through her chest, her voice smothered by the agony.

This was it. She and Percy had only survived this long because Tartarus was savoring his new form. He wanted the pleasure of physically ripping them to pieces. If Tartarus wished, Sylvie had no doubt he could devour her existence with a single thought, as easily as he'd vaporized Hyperion and Krios. Would there be any rebirth from that? Sylvie didn't want to find out.

Next to her, Percy did something she'd never seen him do. He dropped his sword. It just fell out of his hand and hit the ground with a thud. Death Mist no longer shrouded his face, but he still had the complexion of a corpse.

Tartarus hissed again—possibly laughing.

Your fear smells wonderful, said the god. I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaea is right, wishing to wake from her slumber.

He stretched out his massive purple hand and might have plucked up Percy like a weed, but Nemo interrupted.

"Get out of here!" The Titaness leveled her spear at the god. "You have no right to meddle!"

Meddle? Tartarus turned. I am the lord of the darkness, puny Mnemosyne. I can do as I please.

His black cyclone face spun faster. The howling sound was so horrible, Sylvie fell to her knees and clutched her ears. Nemo stumbled, the wispy comet tail of her life force growing longer as it was sucked toward the face of the god.

Nemo roared in defiance. She charged and thrust her spear at Tartarus's chest. Before it could connect, Tartarus swatted Nemo aside like she was a pesky insect. The Titaness went sprawling.

Why do you not disintegrate? Tartarus mused. You are nothing. You are even weaker than Krios and Hyperion.

"They are degenerate males," said Nemo. "I am Nemo."

Tartarus hissed. What is that? What is Nemo?

"I choose to be more than Mnemosyne," said the Titaness. "You do not control me. I am not like my brothers."

Her golden collar bulged. Marlin leaped out. The kitten landed on the ground in front of his owner, then arched his back and hissed at the lord of the abyss.

As Sylvie watched, Marlin began to grow, his form flickering until the little kitten had become a full-sized, translucent skeletal saber-toothed tiger.

"Also," Nemo announced, "I have a good cat."

Now-Massive-Marlin sprang at Tartarus, sinking his claws into Tartarus's thigh. The tiger scrambled up his leg, straight under the god's chain-link skirt. Tartarus stomped and howled, apparently no longer enamored with having a physical form. Meanwhile, Nemo thrust her spear into the god's side, right below her breastplate.

Tartarus roared. He swatted at Nemo, but the Titaness backed out of reach. Nemo thrust out her fingers. Her spear yanked itself free of the god's flesh and flew back to Nemo's hand, which made Sylvie gulp in amazement. She'd never imagined a windshield wiper could have so many useful features. Marlin dropped out of Tartarus's skirt. He ran to his owner's side, his saber-toothed fangs dripping with golden ichor.

You will die first, Mnemosyne, Tartarus decided. Afterward, I will add your soul to my armor, where it will slowly dissolve, over and over, in eternal agony.

Tartarus pounded his fist against his breastplate. Milky faces swirled in the metal, silently screaming to get out.

Nemo turned toward Sylvie and Percy. The Titaness grinned, which probably would not have been Sylvie's reaction to a threat of eternal agony.

"Take the Doors," Nemo said. "I will deal with Tartarus."

Tartarus threw back his head and bellowed—creating a vacuum so strong that the nearest flying demons were pulled into his vortex face and shredded.

Deal with me? the god mocked. You are only a Titaness, a lesser child of Gaea! I will make you suffer for your arrogance. And as for your tiny mortal friends...

Tartarus swept his hand toward the monster army, beckoning them forward.

DESTROY THEM!

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Sylvie had heard the words Destroy them often enough that they shocked her out of her paralysis. She raised Halcyon and wheezed, "Perce!"

He snatched up Riptide.

Sylvie's ribs screamed in protest as she swung her dagger into the thick of the oncoming monsters. Every breath was like a blade in her side, but she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. An arai lunged at her, its cursed eyes gleaming, and she stabbed it through the chest with a cry.

The curse hit her instantly—a stabbing sensation reverberated through her head, sharp and hot, like shards of glass embedding in her temples. Her vision dimmed. The ground tilted under her feet.

Sylvie staggered, bile rising in her throat as nausea swirled with the dizziness. For a moment, the battlefield became a cacophony of blurred snarls and colors, her hearing muffled like she was underwater.

She forced herself to focus, tightening her grip on Halcyon until her knuckles ached. The dagger felt impossibly heavy in her hand. Her chest heaved, every breath a jagged knife slicing through her ribs.

She swung at the pack of telkhines swarming toward her. Her strikes were clumsy, each swing costing her precious energy she didn't have, but she managed to scatter the monsters, her blood pounding in her ears.

Behind her, Percy's blade cut through the chains holding the Doors of Death with a clean swipe. She heard the clang of metal snapping and the subtle Ding! as the massive Doors shuddered open.

Sylvie forced herself to turn, catching sight of Nemo and Marlin darting around Tartarus's legs. The Titaness was holding her own, her movements as quick and erratic as a hummingbird. She was keeping Tartarus distracted, at least for now, but Sylvie couldn't imagine how much longer that would last.

The monsters surged again. A spear zipped past her, narrowly missing her shoulder.

"Silviana Duvall, get over here!" Percy yelled sternly.

Sylvie stumbled toward the Doors, her knees threatening to give out. He was standing there, keeping the elevator open with his foot as he fought off another wave of monsters. He turned to her, his expression full of concern.

"You okay?" he asked.

Sylvie tried to answer, but the pain in her chest was too much. Her mouth opened, but no words came out—only a faint, rasping wheeze. She managed a shaky nod, pressing one hand to her ribs as if that might keep them from splintering entirely.

Percy's eyes darted to her blood-streaked face, but he didn't press further. He sliced through a gryphon mid-dive, then jerked his head toward the elevator.

"Get in. I'll hold the button."

Sylvie shook her head weakly, her grip tightening on Halcyon. She wasn't about to leave him here.

"Of course not," Percy muttered, swiping at a carnivorous horse as it charged. "You're impossible!"

Despite everything, a flicker of warmth touched her chest at his frustration. She couldn't smile, couldn't even laugh—not with the agony racking her body—but she met his gaze for a moment, letting her stubbornness shine through.

He groaned. "You're lucky I love you."

Sylvie raised her dagger again, her legs trembling, and stepped closer to Percy. If she couldn't speak, she'd fight. No matter how much it hurt, she wasn't leaving his side.

An entire phalanx of Cyclopes charged forward, knocking smaller monsters out of the way. Sylvie's breath hitched, a sharp, jabbing reminder that her ribs were barely holding together. She tried to raise her dagger, but the phalanx barreled closer, blocking out her entire field of vision.

Percy gave a battle cry. At the Cyclopes' feet, a red vein in the ground burst open, spraying the monsters with liquid fire from the Phlegethon. The firewater might have healed mortals, but it didn't do the Cyclopes any favors. They combusted in a tidal wave of heat. The burst vein sealed itself, but nothing remained of the monsters except a row of scorch marks.

"Go!" Sylvie rasped, the words clawing their way out of her throat.

"No!" Percy's defiance rang clear as he spun toward her. "Duck!"

She didn't think—she just dropped. Pain lanced through her side, the impact jarring her broken bones. Before she could cry out, Percy vaulted over her, bringing his sword down on the head of a heavily tattooed ogre.

She and Percy stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, waiting for the next wave. The exploding vein had given the monsters pause, but it wouldn't be long before they remembered: Hey, wait, there's seventy-five gazillion of us, and only two of them.

Sylvie stared at Percy. The look in her eyes said it all—If Percy didn't want her sacrificing herself, what was a better idea he could possibly have in store?

Percy didn't answer. The look in his eyes said it all—There was no plan. Not a good one, anyway.

Their situation was so pathetically said, it was almost funny.

The crowd of monsters inched forward, snarling and gathering their courage.

Meanwhile, Nemo's attacks were getting slower. Tartarus was learning to control his new body. Saber-toothed Marlin lunged at the god, but Tartarus smacked the cat sideways. Nemo charged, bellowing with rage, but Tartarus grabbed her spear and yanked it out of her hands. He kicked Nemo downhill, knocking over a row of telkhines like sea mammal bowling pins.

YIELD! Tartarus thundered.

"I will not," Nemo said. "You are not my master."

Die in defiance, then, said the god of the pit. You Titans are nothing to me. My children the giants were always better, stronger, and more vicious. They will make the upper world as dark as my realm!

Tartarus snapped the spear in half. Nemo wailed in agony. Saber-toothed Marlin leaped to her aid, snarling at Tartarus and baring his fangs. The Titaness struggled to rise, but Sylvie knew it was over. Even the monsters turned to watch, as if sensing that their master Tartarus was about to take the spotlight. The death of a Titan was worth seeing.

Sylvie's hand instinctively reached for Percy's, her grip firm despite her shaking fingers. She couldn't watch this. She couldn't stand by and let Nemo face this alone.

"Stay," she whispered, her words so faint they barely escaped her lips. "Gotta help."

"Sylv, you can't." Percy's voice cracked. "Tartarus can't be fought. Not by us."

He didn't need to say more. Sylvie knew what Tartarus was capable of. She wasn't that much of an idiot. But her heart refused to listen. Nemo couldn't die alone.

"We'll go together," Percy caved, his voice steady but resigned. Sylvie turned toward him, catching the flicker of understanding in his sea-green eyes.

If this was the end, they would face it together.

A ripple of alarm passed through the army. In the distance, Sylvie heard shrieks, screams, and a persistent boom, boom, boom that was too fast to be the heartbeat in the ground—more like something large and heavy, running at full speed. An Earthborn spun into the air as if he'd been tossed. A plume of bright-green gas billowed across the top of the monstrous horde like the spray from a poison riot hose. Everything in its path dissolved.

Across the swath of sizzling, newly empty ground, Sylvie saw the cause of the commotion. She started to grin.

The Maeonian drakon spread its frilled collar and hissed, its poison breath filling the battlefield with the smell of pine and ginger. It shifted its hundred-foot-long body, flicking its dappled green tail and wiping out a battalion of ogres.

Riding on its back was a red-skinned giant with flowers in his rust-colored braids, a jerkin of green leather, and a drakon-rib lance in his hand.

Sylvie's breath caught in her throat. "Damasen."

The giant inclined his head, a soft smile curving his lips. "Silviana Duvall, I took your advice. I chose myself a new fate."

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What is this? the god of the pit hissed. Why have you come, my disgraced son?

Damasen glanced at Sylvie, a clear message in his eyes: Go. Now.

He turned toward Tartarus. The Maeonian drakon stamped its feet and snarled.

"Father, you wished for a more worthy opponent?" Damasen asked calmly. "I am one of the giants you are so proud of. You wished me to be more warlike? Perhaps I will start by destroying you!"

Damasen leveled his lance and charged.

The monstrous army swarmed him, but the Maeonian drakon flattened everything in its path, sweeping its tail and spraying poison while Damasen jabbed at Tartarus, forcing the god to retreat like a cornered lion.

Nemo stumbled away from the battle, her saber-toothed cat at her side. Percy gave them as much cover as he could—causing blood vessels in the ground to burst one after the other. Some monsters were vaporized in Styx water. Others got a Cocytus shower and collapsed, weeping hopelessly. Others were doused with liquid Lethe and stared blankly around them, no longer sure where they were or even who they were.

Nemo limped to the Doors, despite the bottom half of her body dissolving into fog. Golden ichor flowed from the wounds on her arms and chest. Her chiton hung in tatters. Her posture was twisted and hunched, as if Tartarus's breaking the spear had broken something inside her. Despite all that, she was grinning, her misty eyes bright with satisfaction.

"Go," she ordered. "I will hold the button."

Sylvie gawked at her. "Nemo, no—"

"Sylvie." Percy's voice threatened to break. He didn't seem happy with the situation, but he knew it was the only way. "We have to."

Despite the blindsiding pain in her body, Sylvie opened her mouth to protest again—

"You must, friend." Nemo placed a gentle hand on Sylvie's back, trying to soothe as much of her pain as possible. "I can still press a button. And I have a good cat to guard me."

Marlin the saber-toothed tiger growled in agreement.

"Besides," Nemo said, "it is your destiny to return to the world. Put an end to this madness of Gaea. I remember now what you told me back in the lair: You are the only one prophesied to end Gaea. And you will."

A screaming Cyclops, sizzling from poison spray, sailed over their heads.

Fifty yards away, the Maeonian drakon trampled through monsters, its feet making sickening squish squish noises as if stomping grapes. On its back, Damasen yelled insults and jabbed at the god of the pit, taunting Tartarus farther away from the Doors.

Tartarus lumbered after him, his iron boots making craters in the ground.

You cannot kill me! he bellowed. I am the pit itself. You might as well try to kill the earth. Gaea and I—we are eternal. We own you, flesh and spirit!

He brought down his massive fist, but Damasen sidestepped, impaling his javelin in the side of Tartarus's neck.

Tartarus growled, apparently more annoyed than hurt. He turned his swirling vacuum face toward the giant, but Damasen got out of the way in time. A dozen monsters were sucked into the vortex and disintegrated.

"Don't," Sylvie rasped, each word a knife in her chest. Her voice was barely audible, choked with pain and desperation. Tears welled in her eyes as she forced herself to continue. "Destroy you—No regeneration."

Nemo shrugged. "Who knows what will be? You must go now. Tartarus is right about one thing. We cannot defeat him. We can only buy you time."

The Doors tried to close on Percy's foot.

"Twelve minutes," said the Titan. "I can give you that."

Sylvie jumped and threw her arms around the Titaness's neck. She dug her face into Nemo's neck, her eyes full of unshed tears. Nemo tried returning the embrace as much as she could in a way that would heal Sylvie rather than hurt her.

"You and Damasen... h-heroes," she struggled, voice rasping painfully with every word. "Best Titan. Best giant. We'll... tell our children. Keep story alive... You'll regenerate."

Nemo ruffled her hair. Smile lines crinkled around her eyes. "That is good. Until then, my friends, tell the sun and the stars hello for me. Maybe write me a book. And be strong. This may not be the last sacrifice you must make to stop Gaea."

Nemo pulled Sylvie away gently.

"No more time. Go."

Percy grabbed Sylvie's arm. He dragged her into the elevator car. Sylvie had one last glimpse of the Maeonian drakon shaking an ogre-like a sock puppet, Damasen jabbing at Tartarus's legs.

The god of the pit pointed at the Doors of Death and yelled: Monsters, stop them!

Marlin the saber-toothed crouched and snarled, ready for action.

Nemo winked at Sylvie. "Hold the Doors closed on your side," he said. "They will resist your passage. Hold them—"

The panels slid shut.

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"Sylv, help me!" Percy yelped, shoving his entire body against the left door.

Sylvie could barely hear him over the pounding in her ears, but she nodded anyway, her breath coming in shallow, painful gasps. She blacked out with pain for a second when she shoved her body against the right door, pushing with everything she had left. Every movement felt like her bones were about to split open. The Doors shuddered, threatening to rip apart. There were no handles, nothing to cling to—just the sheer weight of the elevator car rising beneath them.

The elevator's easy-listening music didn't help. If all monsters had to hear that song about liking piña coladas and getting caught in the rain, no wonder they were in the mood for carnage when they reached the mortal world. How could it be so... normal? So calm when everything around them was chaos, when they had left Nemo and Damasen to face certain death?

They had left Nemo and Damasen. The two of them were going to die for Sylvie and Percy now, and they still just left them.

Percy must have been able to read what she was thinking. When he looked at her, his eyes glossed over. He looked entirely racked with guilt.

"I know," he murmured, voice barely a whisper. "Gods of Olympus, Sylvie, I know."

She could feel his frustration, his heartbreak, and for a moment, it almost made her forget her pain. But the ache in her side pulled her back, each breath a new kind of agony.

The pressure on the Doors was relentless, but she couldn't let them win. Sylvie focused on the feel of the cold metal beneath her palms, on the raw strength it took just to keep the Doors from opening. At least she could do this. At least she could fight.

But Sylvie didn't know when she'd turned into a fighter. She used to be nothing but a lover. She used to be gentle. She used to be unable to lay a hand against anything, whether they were monsters or not. Now, it seemed like sharp edges were all she knew—they were as sharp as her broken bones.

War had turned her into an unrecognizable figure. Sylvie thought she hated herself before, but nothing could compare to the disgust she felt right now, swirling in her gut, making the pain swell into something akin to a natural disaster-level storm.

The old Sylvie she knew would have never done this. She would have never stepped back to let someone else take the brunt of the danger—especially if that person was her friend. She would have at least tried to protect Nemo and Damasen, in a way that the current Sylvie failed to do.

Who even was she anymore? Was Sylvie turning into the same ruthless creature that Eurydice Arandel had once become?

"Sylv, the Doors," Percy warned, his voice cutting through the fog of panic that had started to cloud her mind.

Sylvie snapped back to reality, her thoughts spiraling too fast to catch, and saw the panels beginning to slide apart. A thin sliver of space opened between them, letting in the stifling air of what could only be the abyss. Ozone? Sulfur? The stench of death.

In an instant, she shoved on her side furiously, pushing with all her strength to force the crack closed again. Her ribs cried out in agony—or was that herself?—but she didn't care. The Doors had to stay shut. They had to.

Her eyes burned with fury as she gritted her teeth. "I will kill Gaea," she muttered through clenched teeth, the words raw and filled with venom. "I will tear her apart with my bare hands."

Percy nodded, but Sylvie's mind was already elsewhere. She remembered Tartarus's words, the boast that haunted her thoughts. He couldn't be killed. Neither could Gaea. Against such power, even Titans and giants were hopelessly outmatched. Demigods stood no chance.

The weight of that truth crushed down on her chest, tightening her breath. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold up.

And then there was Nemo's warning, echoing in her mind with the same heavy finality: This may not be the last sacrifice you must make to stop Gaea.

The words sank deep into her bones. She didn't want to believe them, but she could feel the weight of that reality pressing down on her. She didn't know how much more they could give. But the thought of stopping Gaea—of the destruction she'd bring to the world—they couldn't afford to stop fighting now.

"Twelve minutes," Percy murmured. "Just twelve minutes."

She prayed to Demeter that Nemo could hold the UP button that long. She prayed for strength and motivation and the compassion she'd probably lost. She wondered what they would find once they reached the top of this elevator ride.

Percy's voice broke through again, steady and full of determination. "We can do this," he said. "We have to."

Speaking already hurt Sylvie so much. She didn't verbally respond to that, just nodded her head. He was right. Including all the uncertainties and evil forces working against them, they had to do this. For both themselves and everyone else on the line. Everything else, at that. 

Her vision blurred, flickering in and out like a faulty light. Each time the world came into focus, it was a little more hazy, a little less clear.

She knew exactly what this was. In Tartarus, it had been one fight after another, one nightmare stacked on top of the next. There had been no time for rest, no chance to breathe. She had pushed herself beyond her limits—forced her body through every imaginable kind of pain, each step a brutal sacrifice just to stay alive. But now, all of it was catching up to her.

Her ribs felt like they were slowly splintering with each breath, the pain gnawing at her insides. She could feel the weight of exhaustion sinking into her bones, her muscles screaming with every movement. It wasn't just fatigue—it was a bone-deep deterioration. Her body was giving out, the toll of the endless battle catching up to her.

"Hey, Sylv?" Percy's voice came, sounding particularly panicked.

Sylvie blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision of its blurriness. That was the sound of Percy's voice talking, and staring at Percy always made her feel better. It always gave her strength.

She hummed at him.

"You're still with me, right?"

"Always—Always with you," she managed. It hurt to say, but Percy needed to hear it.

"Perfect," Percy breathed, although nothing was perfect about this moment. "Okay, 'cause I need to tell you—I'm proud of us. I'm proud of you."

Because, yeah. Sylvie could put herself down as many times as she wanted for being dark. For being rougher now-a-days. Percy was rougher now-a-days, too. Together, he and Sylvie were a natural disaster—tempest and quake, chaos born of unrelenting storms and tremors that could split the earth. 

Yet, beneath the destruction, there was an unshakable calm, a quiet gentleness that softened their edges. They could level mountains, but in each other's presence, they rebuilt. The world might have called them calamity, but to each other, they were sanctuary.

"Not in... the Hall of Fame yet," Sylvie rasped. She forced a grin that barely touched her lips. "Yay."

Percy blinked at her, confusion written all over his face. "What?"

The Hall of Fame of Greek mythology's most tragic love stories, Sylvie thought. Then she realized she had failed to say it aloud. She hoped Percy wasn't mad at her for not answering him, but the elevator shuddered and Sylvie blacked out again.

"—eing and soul."

The sound of Percy's adoring voice made Sylvie's eyes refocus, and she found that he was still staring right at her. It didn't matter that her ears tuned in at the last second. She knew what he had been saying.

"I love you too," she gasped, each word squeezed out of her. "With... being and soul—or whatever."

Somehow, despite the chaos and the pain, despite the world feeling like it was slipping through her fingers, Percy laughed. It was a soft, choked laugh, barely more than a breath, but it was there. The sound was so unexpected that it caught Sylvie off guard, a fragile spark of light in the darkest of moments.

Her ribs shattered her insides, but she couldn't help but smile. Percy's laugh—it was like her own personal ambrosia. It was a reminder that even in this nightmare, there was still something worth fighting for.

"One day," Percy muttered, his voice thick with affection and disbelief, "I'm gonna ask you to marry me."

Sylvie's heart skipped a beat at the words, a sharp pang of warmth cutting through the haze of pain that clouded her senses. She would have laughed at the absurdity of his statement if the pain in her chest wasn't so horrifying.

"One day," Sylvie muttered, her voice thick with pain and disorientation, "I'm gonna say yes."

They held the Doors shut as the elevator shuddered and the music played, while somewhere below them, a Titaness and a giant sacrificed their lives for their escape.

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BAILEY YAPS...

Sylvie and Nemo worked it out on the remix like that 🥲

Sylvie and Percy worked it out on the remix (survived Tartarus) like that 🥲

Something about Sylvie and Percy both resembling natural disasters (Percy with hurricanes and Sylvie with earthquakes) and both of them, in their own ways, being able to poison bend and together they have the capability to be such a dangerous and destructive couple, but instead, together they are such a sweet and loving and caring couple. And Percy's proud of them because they stayed a sweet and loving and caring couple despite all of these factors, and despite the fact they were in Tartarus

ONE DAY HE IS GOING TO ASK HER TO MARRY HIM AND ONE DAY SHE IS GOING TO SAY YES.