𝒊. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝒙𝒊𝒗.

Annabeth, Grover, Percy, and Noelle tried to blend into the crowds of Asphodel, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. Noelle couldn't help looking for familiar faces among the spirits of Asphodel, but the dead are hard to look at. Their faces shimmer. They all look slightly angry or confused. They will come up to you and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realize you can't understand them, they frown and move away.

The dead aren't scary. They're just sad.

They crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:

JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION
Welcome, Newly Deceased!

Out the back of the tent came two much smaller lines.

To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which glowed and smoked in the distance, a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas. Even from far away, Noelle could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches or listen to opera music. She could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. And she saw worse tortures, too-- things she wouldn't dream of describing.

The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls-- a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history, Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. Noelle could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking.

Elysium.

In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Isles of the Blest, for people who had chosen to be reborn three times, and three times achieved Elysium. Immediately Percy knew that's where he wanted to go when he died.

"That's what it's all about," Noelle said, like she was reading his thoughts. "That's the place for heroes."

But Noelle was thinking of how few people there were in Elysium, how tiny it was compared to the Fields of Asphodel or even the Fields of Punishment. So few people did good in their lives. It was depressing.

They left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into the Asphodel Fields. It got darker. The colors faded from their clothes. The crowds of chattering spirits began to thin.

After a few miles of walking, they began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark batlike creatures: the Furies. Percy got the feeling they were waiting for them.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.

"We'll be okay." Percy tried to sound confident.

"Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance..."

"Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm.

Grover yelped. His sneakers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass.

"Grover," Annabeth chided. "Stop messing around."

"But I didn't-"

He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away from Annabeth's grasp.