AFTER THEIR FALL INTO TARTARUS, jumping three hundred feet to the Mansion of Night should have felt quick.
Instead, Annabeth’s heart seemed to slow down. Between the beats she had ample time to write her own obituary.
Annabeth Chase, died age 17.
BA-BOOM.
(Assuming her birthday, July 12, had passed while she was in Tartarus; but honestly, she had no idea.)
BA-BOOM.
Died of massive injuries while leaping like an idiot into the abyss of Chaos and splattering on the entry hall floor of Nyx’s mansion.
BA-BOOM.
Survived by her father, stepmother, and two stepbrothers who barely knew her.
BA-BOOM.
In lieu of flowers, please send donations to Camp Half-Blood, assuming Gaea hasn’t already destroyed it.
Her feet hit solid floor. Pain shot up her legs, but she stumbled forward and broke into a run, hauling Percy after her.
Above them in the dark, Nyx and her children scuffled and yelled, “I’ve got them! My foot! Stop it!”
Annabeth kept running. She couldn’t see anyway, so she closed her eyes. She used her other senses—listening for the echo of open spaces, feeling for cross-breezes against her face, sniffing for any scent of danger—smoke, or poison, or the stench of demons.
It wasn’t the first time she’d plunged through darkness. She imagined she was back in the tunnels under Rome, searching out the Athena Parthenos. In retrospect, her journey to Arachne’s cavern seemed like a trip to Disneyland.
The squabbling sounds of Nyx’s children got farther away. That was good. Percy was still running at her side, holding her hand. Also good.
In the distance ahead of them, Annabeth began to hear a throbbing sound, like her own heartbeat echoing back, amplified so powerfully, the floor vibrated underfoot. The sound filled her with dread, so she figured it must be the right way to go. She ran toward it.
As the beat got louder, she smelled smoke and heard the flickering of torches on either side. She guessed there would be light, but a crawling sensation across her neck warned her it would be a mistake to open her eyes.
“Don’t look,” she told Percy.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “You can feel that, right? We’re still in the Mansion of Night. I do not want to see it.”
Smart boy, Annabeth thought. She used to tease Percy for being dumb, but in truth his instincts were usually right on target.
Whatever horrors lay in the Mansion of Night, they weren’t meant for mortal eyes. Seeing them would be worse than staring at the face of Medusa. Better to run in darkness.
The throbbing got louder still, sending vibrations straight up Annabeth’s spine. It felt like someone was knocking on the bottom of the world, demanding to be let in. She sensed the walls opening up on either side of them. The air smelled fresher—or at least not quite as sulfurous. There was another sound, too, closer than the deep pulsing…the sound of flowing water.
Annabeth’s heart raced. She knew the exit was close. If they could make it out of the Mansion of Night, maybe they could leave the dark brood of demons behind.
She began to run faster, which would have meant her death if Percy hadn’t stopped her.
