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/ᴴᵃᵈᵉˢ ᵗᵃˡᵏˢ ᵍᵒˢˢⁱᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ-ⁿⁱᵉᶜᵉ/
𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯
"So... about your father, how crazy is he, now that he can't drink anymore?"
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Melanie was ready to kick something, with her uninjured foot of course. The four travelers had struggled further to the entrance and Melanie wanted to bury herself in the ground with guilt. She was disgusted with herself. She had slowed everyone down because she was too weak to walk properly. She had to rely on others.
She needed help.
She limped across the street like an injured cat, ready to be kicked into the nearest garbage corner by strangers because, firstly, she had black fur and, secondly, she slowed the others down because she could hardly move herself.
The Furies circled the parapets, high in the gloom. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black, and the two-story-tall bronze gates stood wide open.
Up close, Percy saw that the engravings on the gates were scenes of death. Some were from modern times—an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask– wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls—but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago.
"Prophecies," Melanie whispered next to him, her arm still around his shoulder so he could carry half her weight so they could move forward. Percy looked at her with a questioning look. The girl rolled her black-looking eyes and Percy noticed how they had become darker with each passing hour since the moment they descended into the underworld. As if they were the shadows themselves, Tarterus' darkest corner, the smoke of fire in the night sky, the despair of people. When he saw her like that now, looked into those empty eyes, the daughter of Dionysus almost seemed like that.
"Dead." Percy quickly put his hand over her mouth. "What?" Melanie looked at him insulted, her lips drawn into a thin, white line. Percy shook his head hastily.
