NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

one hundred: the night kingdom.

NYX LASHED HER whip again. The darkness congealed around her. On either side, an army of shadows appeared — more dark-winged arai, which Brooklyn was not thrilled to see, a withered old man, a younger woman in a black toga, her eyes gleaming and her smile like a serial killer's. More kept appearing: dozens of demons and minor gods, each one the spawn of Night.

Brooklyn wanted to run. She was facing a shit ton of horrors that could snap anyone's sanity. But if she ran, she would probably die.

Next to her, Percy's breathing turned shallow. Even through his misty ghoul disguise, she could tell he was on the verge of panic. She had to stand her ground for them.

I'm literally Brooklyn Hayward, the greatest person in the whole world, she told herself. I can handle this.

She told herself it was just a movie — a scary movie, sure, but she fucking loved horror movies. Her life was basically one anyway.

"Yeah, not bad," she admitted. "I guess we could get one picture for the scrapbook, but I don't know. You guys are so . . . dark. Even if I used flash, I'm not sure it would come out."

"Yeah," Annabeth added, the love of Brooklyn's life. "You guys aren't photogenic."

"You — miserable — tourists!" Nyx hissed. "How dare you not tremble before me! How dare you not whimper and beg for my autograph and a picture for your scrapbook! You want newsworthy? My son Hypnos once put Zeus to sleep! When Zeus pursued him across the earth, bent on vengeance, Hypnos hid in my palace for safety, and Zeus did not follow. Even the king of Olympus fears me!"

"Uh-huh." Brooklyn turned to Percy and Annabeth, trying not to think about how weak her father was if she could handle this god but he couldn't. "Well, it's getting late. We should probably get lunch at one of those restaurants the tour guide recommended. Then we can find the Doors of Death."

"Aha!" Nyx cried in triumph. Her brood of shadows stirred and echoed: "Aha! Aha!"

"You wish to see the Doors of Death?" Nyx asked. "They lie at the very heart of Tartarus. Mortals such as you could never reach them, except through the halls of my palace — the Mansion of Night!"

She gestured behind her. Floating in the abyss, maybe three hundred feet below, was a doorway of black marble, leading into some sort of large room.

Wonderful. Wonderland was becoming better the more they wandered through it.

Annabeth sighed a bored sigh. "I suppose we could do one picture, but a group shot won't work. Nyx, how about one of you with your favorite child? Which one is that?"

The brood rustled. Dozens of horrible glowing eyes turned toward Nyx.

The goddess shifted uncomfortably, as if her chariot were heating up under her feet. Her shadow horses huffed and pawed at the void.

"My favorite child?" she asked. "All my children are terrifying!"

Percy snorted. "Seriously? I've met the Fates. I've met Thanatos. They weren't so scary. You've got to have somebody in this crowd who's worse than that."

"The darkest," Annabeth said. "The most like you."

"I am the darkest," hissed Eris. "Wars and strife! I have caused all manner of death!"

"I am darker still!" snarled Geras. "I dim the eyes and addle the brain. Every mortal fears old age!"

"Yeah, yeah," Brooklyn rolled her eyes. "I'm not seeing enough dark. I mean, you're the children of Night! Show me dark!"

The horde of arai wailed, flapping their leathery wings and stirring up clouds of blackness. Geras spread his withered hands and dimmed the entire abyss. Eris breathed a shadowy spray of buckshot across the void.