TERRIFIED . . . annabeth chase

fifty three.

VAL MISSED BOB.

She'd gotten used to having the Titan on her side, lighting their way with his silver hair and his fearsome war broom.

Now their only guide was an emaciated corpse lady with serious self-esteem issues.

As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that Val had to resist the urge to swat it away with her hands. The only reason she was able to follow Akhlys's path was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked. And her senses. So she led Percy and Annabeth.

If they were still on the body of Tartarus, Val figured they must be on the bottom of his foot — a rough, calloused expanse where only the most disgusting plant life grew.

Finally they arrived at the end of the big toe. At least that's what it looked like to Val. The fog dissipated, and they found themselves on a peninsula that jutted out over a pitch-black void.

"Here we are." Akhlys turned and leered at them. Blood from her cheeks dripped on her dress. Her sickly eyes looked moist and swollen but somehow excited. Can Misery look excited?

"Uh . . . great," Percy asked. "Where is here?"

"The verge of final death," Akhlys said. "Where Night meets the void below Tartarus."

Annabeth inched forward and peered over the cliff. "I thought there was nothing below Tartarus."

"Oh, certainly there is . . ." Akhlys coughed. "Even Tartarus had to rise from somewhere. This is the edge of the earliest darkness, which was my mother. Below lies the realm of Chaos, my father. Here, you are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been. Can you not feel it?"

Val knew what she meant. The void seemed to be pulling at her, leaching the breath from her lungs and the oxygen from her blood. She was strangely intrigued. Her skin was tinted blue.

"We can't stay here," Percy said, pulling Val away from the pit.

"No, indeed!" Akhlys said. "Don't you feel the Death Mist? Even now, you pass between. Look!"

White smoke gathered around Val's feet. As it coiled up her legs, she realized the smoke wasn't surrounding her. It was coming from her. Her whole body was dissolving. She held up her hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct. She couldn't even tell how many fingers she had.

Percy turned to Annabeth and stifled a yelp. "You're — uh—"

Val couldn't supply him with the words he needed. Annabeth looked dead.

Her skin was sallow, her eye sockets dark and sunken. Her beautiful hair had dried into a skein of cobwebs. She looked like she'd been stuck in a cool, dark mausoleum for decades, slowly withering into a desiccated husk. When she turned to look at Percy, her features momentarily blurred into mist.

Percy also looked the same, but Val couldn't stop staring at Annabeth.

For years, she had worried about Annabeth dying. When you were a demigod, that went with the territory. Most half-bloods didn't live long. You always knew that the next monster you fought could be your last. But seeing Annabeth like this was too painful. Val would rather stand in the River Phlegethon, or get attacked by arai, or be trampled by giants.

"Oh, gods," Annabeth sobbed. "Percy, the way you look . . . and Ali . . ."

Val frowned as she looked down at herself. Sure, she was kinda wispy and stuff, but she didn't seem all that different. Which scared her.

"I've looked better," Percy decided. "I can't move very well. But I'm all right."

Akhlys clucked. "Oh, you're definitely not all right."