Previously:
There was a mark on the inside of his wrist, it was a symbol that seemed to glow a faint orange the longer he looked at it; it was really familiar. He was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice his palm was becoming warmer. He could almost remember where he found it when suddenly, his hand burst into flames. All Percy could manage was a quick gasp before plunging straight into the Phlegethon.

Pain. Pain was all Percy could feel as the flames of the river licked at his body and rendered him incapable of thought. He had to get out of the river before it claimed his soul, but his limbs were so heavy he could not will himself to move. He was paralyzed as the heat continued to scorch his body. He spared a brief moment to be vaguely surprised that he’d survived so long already, but couldn’t dwell on any thought for very long. Percy could feel his alertness beginning to slip. His muscles simply wouldn’t cooperate, even his eyes began to droop and soon after, close fully. Behind his eyelids he could still see the bright orange tendrils twisting and twirling, almost mockingly.

Percy’s body began to sink, as if he was being forcibly tugged to the depth of the cursed river. His will to live was being slowly consumed by thoughts of resignation as his body, and now his mind, continued to fail him. His consciousness was a small candle in the wind, wavering and weak. He had slipped away for just a moment when he heard it.

“No Perseus, you mustn’t,” the voice startled him back to consciousness, “think of your Annabeth.”

‘Annabeth,’ The name echoed through his mind, accompanied by images of blonde curls and orange t-shirts. The smell of old parchment and ink wafted past his nose. He could taste… lemon. Flashes of sad gray eyes and tear-streaked cheeks swam through his blood, reinvigorating him exponentially. He propelled himself upward, thrashing harshly to pull himself from the vortex attempting to suck him further down into the pit of hell.

He broke through the surface and threw himself onto the bank of the smoldering river, hacking and spewing fire from his mouth like a hydra. He laid there for a moment, his breath rattling in his chest as he gasped for oxygen. Despite his current predicament, he smiled. Annabeth had saved him again. She was always saving him, even when she wasn’t physically with him. He would return to her. He had to.

Percy pushed himself off of the ground, taking a moment to evaluate himself. He flexed his fingers and rolled his neck, exhaling in relief when he realized his abrupt dip in the flaming river hadn’t caused any lasting damage. A flicker of orange in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he looked to the left. He was on fire! His forearms and palms were alight with reddish-orange fire. Panicked, Percy began to bat at the flames. With an undeniably masculine shriek, he dropped to the ground and attempted to smother the flames. Percy was nearing hysteria when he realized, he wasn’t in pain. He paused. Why wasn’t he in pain?

Percy looked down at his body. His clothes were untouched by the fire, torn but not charred. The flames clung to his skin. Percy observed the flames, almost entranced by the way they danced along his arms. Their warmth left him with a familiar sense of comfort, almost similar to the way he felt in water. His gaze fell on his wrist once again. The symbol there seemed to be surrounded by the swirling orange flames, glowing brighter than it had before. What was so familiar about the symbol? He continued to stare at it, hypnotized by it’s pulsing glow.

“Think Perseus,” the voice urged,” Percy startled, he thought he had imagined that voice the first time, but now he was certain: someone had spoken to him. He turned a full circle in an attempt to find the source of the voice.

‘What the hell,’ he thought, ‘well, this would be an awesome time for me to go completely schizo.’ He continued to scan as much as the area as he could, not quite convinced he was alone. Just as he began to relax, something hissed. He turned toward the sound swiftly, uncapping Riptide simultaneously. Two gorgons slithered into the dim light, cast by the Phlegethon.

“Percccy Jackssson,” the monster on the left hissed. Stheno. He remembered her and her sister, Euryale, from his journey to Camp Jupiter only a few months ago. “I thought I sssmelled you.”

“I must be a breath of fresh air in this dump,” Percy rasped nonchalantly, sniffing the air, “guess you weren’t expecting company.” He tightened his grip on Riptide, shifting his weight back and forth as he thought about their last encounter. The only reason they were so difficult to defeat is because the doors of death were open, this time their deaths would be permanent. However, Percy wasn’t indestructible anymore. The effects of the Styx had washed away when he crossed the little Tiber and entered the Roman camp. He would still win. He had to.

“Insssolent boy,” Euryale murmured amusedly, “you have no chance against the three of us.”

“Three of you?” Percy snickered mockingly, “I knew you monsters were stupid but… wow, there’s obviously only two of you. Besides, you and the other rattlesnake barely count as one.”

“What of me, son of Poseidon,” lilted a familiar voice, “do I pose a threat to your life or am I too, as worthless as my sisters?" Percy froze immediately. The sound of the voice coursed through his body like a paralytic venom. His muscles were heavy and his joints stiff. It was almost as if he’d been turned to… stone. Percy’s eyes closed reflexively.

“Hi there, Auntie Em,” Percy sang, his voice only slightly shaking, “it’s been a while.”

“Perseus Jackson,” Medusa said as she slithered from the darkness, “how is your daddy?”

“Good, ruling the sea and whatnot. Not too happy about me being here but what can you do, ya know,” Percy shrugged, rambling on, “Oh! I almost forgot, where are my manners, how is your neck?”

“You are a very cheeky boy,” she hissed. Percy flinched as her snakes nipped at his cheeks. He shivered as he wondered how he would make it out of this situation alive. “Let me guess, you are wondering how you can possibly make it out of this situation alive,” the snakes slither around Percy’s neck and squeezed, “It’s quite simple really. You won’t.”

‘Duck,’ the voice shouted. Percy crouched immediately , instinctively trusting the voice. He felt the air above his head shift and ruffle his hair before something hard smacked him into the back of his head. He tumbled forward and landed on the bank of the river, the heat from the Phlegethon warming his body. He could feel the warmth centering in the palm of his right hand, as he stumbled his way to his feet, his eyes still tightly shut.

“You have nowhere to run Perseus,” Medusa snarled, “you may as well accept your defeat and become my companion forever.” She grabbed his face and caressed his hair, “I’ll even freeze your little girlfriend. We can all be together forever.”

The warmth in his palm reached a peak in response to her proposal. How dare she threaten Annabeth. He turned to Medusa, all rational thought lost. “You will do no such thing,” he growled, his eyes wide open, “You. Will. Not. Touch. Her.”

The heat shot from his hand, fire encasing riptide and nearly blinding Percy. He stared at his blade in shock. Riptide had definitely never caught on fire before. He’d never made Riptide catch on fire, or anything for that matter. In fact, Percy only knew one person who could manipulate fire. Leo. That’s where he had seen that symbol before! It was on Leo’s tool belt… the one blessed by Hephaestus. Wait…

“Fight Perseus!” the voice screamed in his mind, interrupting his thought process. The voice was right. Percy swung his sword, the flames clinging to the metal, and saw an arm and a few snakes fall to the ground. He crouched as another arm flew past his head and chopped off someone’s leg. As he stood, he watched as two body’s turned to ash. He didn’t even spare a moment of shock at how easily he killed the gorgons , as he turned to Medusa and glared at her menacingly.

Power surged through his body as he shifted his gaze toward the Phlegethon. The river began to rise, creating a wall that circled him and Medusa, she had nowhere to run. The heat scorched her back and caused her to stumbled forward a few steps.

“You know,” Percy took a slow step forward, “we have such history,” he took another step, his wall of fire constricting around them and forcing Medusa forward with each step, “it’ll almost be a shame when I kill you.” Medusa took a terrified step backwards as Percy advanced, crying out in pain as the river charred her skin. There was nothing she could do to fight him without her power, her body was paralyzed with pain. Percy was completely unaffected as he ran towards her, his sword twirling menacingly in his hand. She didn’t even have time to scream, before her head was severed from her body. “Almost,” Percy whispered, “but not quite.”

The fire wall remained intact, even as Percy sank to his knees and watched Medusa’s body dissolve into the ground forever. A grim satisfaction seized him, one less enemy to keep him from his Annabeth. Once again his gaze fell to his wrist. Why would Hephaestus bless him? He voted for him to go to Tartarus for gods’ sake.

“Remorse,” the voice echoed, Percy wasn’t startled when he heard the voice this time.
‘What do you mean?’ Percy questioned in his mind. All he heard was silence, but then again he didn’t really expect the voice to respond. Maybe it was right. Hephaestus loved Leo, despite it all, maybe this was his way to pay tribute to his dead son. Percy could sympathize with the guy, he lost his son, he didn’t want to lose his wife too. Although there was no way for him to hear his prayer, he found himself thanking Hephaestus. He would learn to harness his new powers, but first he had to find shelter, and maybe even an ally. Where could he go?

“Follow the river north, Perseus,” the voice whispered, “there lies the eye of your storm.”

Percy looked up. North was straight into the heart of Tartarus. All of his enemies would be there. It almost seemed as though the voice was trying to get him killed, but he trusted it against all odds. ‘North it is,’ he thought, as he started toward his worst nightmare.

“I’m coming Annabeth.”

Notes

Poor Percy! Annabeth's Journey next.