Ethereal

VIII

We finally stopped in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one big pit, ringed by a slippery stone walkway. Around us, on all four walls, water tumbled from huge pipes. The water spilt down into the pit, and even when I shined a light beam down it, I still couldn't see the bottom.

Briares slumped against the wall. He scooped up water in a dozen hands and washed his face. "This pit goes straight to Tartarus," he murmured. "I should jump in and save you trouble."

"Don't talk that way," Annabeth told him. "You can come back to camp with us. You can help us prepare. You know more about fighting Titans than anybody."

"I have nothing to offer," Briares said. "I have lost everything."

"What about your brothers?" Tyson asked. "The other two must stand tall as mountains! We can take you to them."

Briares's expression morphed to something even sadder: his grieving face.

"They are no more. They faded."

The waterfalls thundered. Tyson stared into the pit and blinked tears out of his eye.

"What exactly do you mean, they faded?" Percy asked. "I thought monsters were immortal, like the gods."

"Percy," I said weakly, "even immortality has limits. Sometimes...sometimes monsters get forgotten and they lose their will to stay immortal."

Looking at Grover's face, I wondered if he was thinking of Pan. I remembered something about Medusa in the myths: how her sisters, the other two gorgons, had passed on and left her alone. Then last year Apollo said something about the old god Helios disappearing and leaving him with the duties of the sun god. I'd never thought about it too much, but now, looking at Briares, I realized how terrible it would be to be so old—thousands and thousands of years old—and totally alone.

"I must go," Briares said.

"Kronos's army will invade camp," Tyson said. "We need help."

Briares hung his head. "I cannot, Cyclops."

"You are strong."

"Not anymore." Briares rose.

"Hey," Percy grabbed one of his arms and pulled him aside, where the roar of the water would hide our words as I followed. "Briares, we need you. In case you haven't noticed, Tyson believes in you. He risked his life for you."

Percy told him about everything—Luke's invasion plan, the Labyrinth entrance at camp, Daedalus's workshop, Kronos's golden coffin.

Briares just shook his head. "I cannot, demigod. I do not have a finger gun to win this game." To prove his point, he made one hundred finger guns.

"Maybe that's why monsters fade," I said. "Maybe it's not about what the mortals believe. Maybe it's because you give up on yourself."

His pure brown eyes regarded me. His face morphed into an expression I recognized—shame. Then he turned and trudged off down the corridor until he was lost in the shadows.

Tyson sobbed.

"It's okay," Grover hesitantly patted his shoulder, which must've taken all his courage.

Tyson sneezed. "It's not okay, goat boy. He was my hero."

I wanted to make him feel better, but I wasn't sure what to say.

Finally, Annabeth stood and shouldered her backpack. "Come on, guys. This pit is making me nervous. Let's find a better place to camp for the night."

* * *

We settled in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it could've been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fastened to the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, and Annabeth decided this was a good sign.