Bandages and Salt (PJO X BSD AU)

Chapter thirty-six

Dazai POV

The hellhound, the son of Hades and I appeared at the banks of the River Styx as the shadows peeled away from our skin. The two Underworld affiliated creatures had shadow traveled us from Hades's palace to the river, the three of us wanting to get out of the palace before the gods inside had time to grow angry by our presence and send their skeletal soldiers after us earlier than needed.

The child of the Underworld slid off of the beast and crumpled to the black sand beneath him before his thin legs had time to catch him. I knelt before the younger boy and pulled out a square of ambrosia that I had gotten from the Stoll brothers the day after the Princess Andromeda mission. I don't know why they gave it to me, their smiles were much too innocent and devoid of their normal mischievous light for it to be anything related to their normal pranks, but with the way that things were going, I went ahead and took it.

"Your powers drain you too much," I noted, handing the healing substance over to the other demigod, watching as he nibbled on it sleepily but eventually got around to eating it all.

"With great power... comes a great need to take a nap," the boy said sleepily, shifting lazily as if to get more comfortable against the shifting ground. "Wake me up later."

I reached out and pinched the boy's wrist before the other demigod had time to pass out once more, watching with a hint of satisfaction as the other teen jolted and shot me an annoyed glare without any heat behind it. "We're at the river, zombie prince," I informed the boy, watching the annoyed pinch to his eyebrows at the name. "You need to tell me what to do."

I had a decent idea of my own on how this was supposed to go, but I didn't want to assume and die an extremely painful death that, while it would be deserved, would cause more problems than solve them.

Feeding the other demigod the last of my ambrosia with enough care to make the more rational part of my brain question why I was treating the child so nicely, I watched as some color bleed back into the teen's skin. Not enough to make him look anything close to healthy, but enough that he didn't look quite as much like a corpse anymore.

The boy gave his head a violent shake as he struggled to his feet. I stood beside him, ready to catch the other demigod if it looked like he was about to kneel over into the sand again.

"We should hurry," the younger teen decided, moving closer to the edge of the river, close enough that we could see down into it.

I glanced down at the water, angling my body so that I could still see the younger demigod out of the corner of my eye so I could step in if it looked like he was about to fall into the river himself. In the waters of the River Styx we're slowly breaking down objects, all of them frayed, burned and torn in some way or another, broken toys, ripped college diplomas that looked like they were never signed, even a wilted homecoming corsage or two. I knew what they all were without having to be told: the dreams that people had thrown away as they died.

Looking down at the black waters, I couldn't help but wonder if there was picture in there of an older me and my mother, one of a world where we both lived to see the day it was taken, where the scars had faded from our skin and our smiles were more genuine than they had ever been when she was alive. It seemed like something that she would have dreamed of. It was nothing more than a pipe dream even before the fire.

"What do I need to do?" I asked the smaller boy, turning to him as he watched the black currants, seeming to like the idea of being close to it as much as I did. The boy's eyes scanned over the last of the objects once more before looking up at me with a disappointed gaze that told me that he didn't find what he was looking for.

"You have to prepare yourself," the younger boy said at last, "or the same power that you're trying to get from the water will destroy you, burning away your body and soul." I thought about making a suicide joke or a remark about him not having to worry due to my own inhumanity, but decided that it would be better to bite my tounge instead. "There is only one way to stay anchored to your mortal life. You have to-"