𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

good and bad

ERITH JAY
IN ALL HONESTY, Erith was relieved when the monsters closed in.

Okay, maybe she was going a little crazy. But walking around and waiting for an attack―especially surrounded by darkness―had been killing her. Literally. Her limbs trembled. Her mouth was dry.

At least now she had something to focus on, something to do with all this adrenaline and this grief. Plus, she had Percy on her side, easily one of the most powerful demigods alive, and on top of that, a Titan. So she was feeling pretty confident.

That was, until the battle actually started.

"Back off," Percy growled, jabbing Riptide at the nearest shriveled hag, but she only sneered.

We are the arai, said that weird voice-over, like the entire forest was speaking. You cannot destroy us. We are the curses.

Erith was about to argue that she had faced worse than some winged bats with ugly faces, but Bob had other ideas. "Bob doesn't like curses," he decided. The skeleton kitten Small Bob disappeared inside his coveralls. Smart cat.

The Titan swept his broom in a wide arc, forcing the spirits back, but they came in again like the tide.

We serve the bitter and defeated, said the arai. We serve the slain who prayed for vengeance with their final breath. We have many curses to share with you.

"Nice talk," Erith said rather eloquently and lifted her sword, jabbing at the nearest monster. It backed up. "I think I've faced worse."

"Yeah, I appreciate the offer," Percy said. "But my mom told me not to accept curses from strangers."

The nearest demon lunged. Her claws extended like bony switchblades. Before Erith could strike, Percy swung Riptide and cut her in two, but as soon as she vaporized, he stumbled back, clamping his hand to his rib cage. His fingers came away wet and red.

Erith's chest flared with panic. "Percy, you're bleeding!" Then she realized that was kind of obvious.

She noticed he was bleeding on both sides. "Did it get you?" she asked desperately, running her fingers over his tattered shirt.

Percy shook his head, face ashen. "Geryon. This is how I killed him..."

"What?" Erith asked.

The arai bared their fangs. More spirits leaped from the black trees, flapping their leathery wings. Erith stood, raising her sword to defend Percy.

Yes, they agreed. Feel the pain you inflicted upon Geryon. So many curses have been leveled at you, Percy Jackson. Which will you die from? Choose, or we will rip you apart!

Erith glanced back at Percy as if he'd have an answer, but he looked just as bewildered as she felt. "I don't understand," he muttered.

Bob's voice seemed to echo from the end of a long tunnel: "If you kill one, it gives you a curse."

"But they'll kill us anyway," Percy guessed.

Erith glanced at the two of them uneasily. "Could we run?"

The arai cackled as if the idea was foolish. Choose! they cried. Will you be crushed like Kampe? Or disintegrated like the young telkhines you slaughtered under Mount St. Helens? You have spread so much death and suffering, Percy Jackson. Let us repay you!