daylight | percy jackson

if the era's tour was in the underworld

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

BOOK ONE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

❝ that's the place for heroes ❞

IMAGINE THE largest concert crowd you've ever seen, a football field packed with a million fans.

Now, imagine a field a million times that size, crammed with people, and then the lights go out. No noise, no light, no beach ball bouncing around the crowd. Tragedy struck backstage, and now there's just a mass of people whispering, hanging around in the shadows, waiting for a concert that's never going to kick off.

As Aria gazed over at the Fields of Asphodel, a sick feeling settled in her stomach. The black grass beneath seemed worn down by eons of countless feet. A warm, damp breeze swept through like the breath of a swamp, and clusters of poplar trees, their black forms familiar to Aria, grew sporadically.

Above them, the cavern ceiling reached towering heights, almost resembling a bank of storm clouds, if not for the wickedly pointed stalactites that faintly glowed in a ghostly grey. Scattered across the fields were several stalactites that had fallen, impaling themselves in the black grass below.

The group, feeling like lost souls themselves, attempted to blend into the hushed crowd, their eyes darting warily for any signs of security. The dimly lit expanse of the fields offered a cloak of anonymity, and they cautiously moved through the murmuring masses, each step muffled by the peculiar, soft ground beneath their feet.

As Aria weaved through the shadowy figures, she noticed the quiet sorrow etched on every face. The dead weren't menacing or frightening; they were simply a congregation of souls marked by sadness.

Despite the eerie surroundings, her gaze remained vigilant for any sign of her mother. Ever face she passed stirred a mix of hope and trepidation, her heart racing. But alas, Mrs Silver's was nowhere to be seen.

They crept along, trailing the line of new arrivals that meandered from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion, its banner boldly proclaiming: "JUDGEMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION. Welcome, Newly Deceased!"

Behind the tent, two much smaller lines emerged.

To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were ushered down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment. In the distance, it glowed and smoked, a vast, cracked wasteland featuring rivers of lava, minefields, and miles of barbed wire separating different torture areas. Even from a distance, Aria could discern people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches, or subjected to the tormenting strains of opera music. On a tiny hill, the ant-sized figure of Sisyphus struggled against his eternal burden, attempting to move his boulder to the top.

That was just the beginning.

The line from the right side of the judgment pavilion was a stark contrast. This one led down towards a small valley enclosed by walls – a gated community that appeared to be the only joyful part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate, picturesque neighborhoods unfolded, featuring beautiful houses from every historical era – Roman villas, medieval castles, Victorian mansions. Lawns adorned with silver and gold flowers exuded an ethereal beauty.

Elysium.

At the heart of the valley lay a sparkling blue lake, surrounded by three small islands resembling a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Isles of the Blest, reserved for those who had chosen to be reborn three times and had thrice achieved Elysium. Aria hoped her mother was there.