Ataraxia [BTS au | Heroes of Olympus]

38

Yoongi

They both tried to move the rocks blocking the tunnel, but it was of no use. Even without being a child of Underworld he knew anymore disruption and the whole structure would fall on top of them. So he stopped Hosoek who looked panicked and close to having tears in his eyes.

"We need to go." He said.

"What about them? Will they be okay?"

"Those are the most courageous and brave people I have ever seen in my life, including you. You don't have to worry about them. They'll be okay."

"So I guess we should find the Doors now huh." Hosoek said as he got up.

"Yeah.. and I will probably have a giant waiting for me there."

Hosoek let out a shaky breath and drew his bow. "Let's go then"He summoned fire into his hands.

"Which way do you think it is?" He asked

Hosoek scanned the path in front of them. About thirty feet down, the tunnel split into four smaller arteries, each one identical.

"That way," Hosoek decided. "It feels the most cold and dangerous." He pointed to the one on the left.

"I'm sold," he said.

They began their descent.

There was a tunnel ahead, sloping gently down for about three hundred feet, then opening into a large chamber. In that chamber was a presence ... cold, heavy and powerful. He hadn't felt anything like it since at Alaska when they had met Alcyoneus.

"Hosoek, be ready," he whispered. "We're getting close."

They entered the chamber. The obsidian walls were carved with scenes of death: plague victims, corpses on the battlefield, torture chambers with skeletons hanging in iron cages – all of it embellished with precious gems that somehow made the scenes even more ghastly.

As in the Pantheon, the domed roof was a waffle pattern of recessed square panels, but here each panel was a stela – a grave marker with Ancient Greek inscriptions. He wondered if actual bodies were buried behind them.

He saw no other exits. At the apex of the ceiling, where the Pantheon's skylight would've been, a circle of pure black stone gleamed, as if to reinforce the sense that there was no way out of this place – no sky above, only darkness. His eyes drifted to the centre of the room.

Fifty feet away was a set of freestanding elevator doors, their panels etched in silver and iron. Rows of chains ran down either side, bolting the frame to large hooks in the floor. The area around the doors was littered with black rubble. With a tightening sense of anger, he realized that an ancient altar to Hades had once stood there. It had been destroyed to make room for the Doors of Death.

Then there was a twenty-foot-tall shadowy figure looming next to the Doors. The giant Clytius was shrouded in the black smoke, just as he'd seen in his dreams, but now he could dimly make out his form – dragon-like legs with ash-coloured scales; a massive humanoid upper body encased in Stygian armour; long, braided hair that seemed to be made from smoke. His complexion was as dark as Death's (he should know, since he had met Death personally). His eyes glinted cold as diamonds. He carried no weapon, but that didn't make him any less terrifying.

"Clytius," he addressed the giant. "Your army is defeated. You've lost. Leave now." He tried to sound as sure as he could.

The giant tilted his head. His diamond eyes gleamed. Beside him Hosoek lurched like he'd hit a power line, black smoke coiling from her mouth. And he moved away from him.

"You have won nothing demigod" Hosoek spoke in a voice that wasn't his – the words as deep as a bass guitar.

"Stop that!" Whatever Clytius was doing, pulling words from his mouth – it was killing him.

More smoke poured from between Hosoek's lips. "I'll tie you up and take you to Porphyrion in Athens, to the Feast of Spes. Just the sacrifice we need."

"Oh, yeah?" He growled. "Well, maybe you got the smoke, buddy, but I've got the fire." His hands blazed. He shot white-hot columns of flame at the giant, but Clytius's smoky aura absorbed them on impact. Tendrils of black haze travelled back up the lines of fire, snuffing out the light and heat and covering him in darkness.

He fell to his knees, clutching at his throat.