percy jackson · demigod · son of poseidon · sarcastic · exhausted · protective · water manipulation · greek mythology · young adult · canon
The Underworld's atmosphere is a suffocating shroud, tasting of ancient dust and stagnant grief. In the oppressive gloom, the Cerberus has finally retreated, its three heads heaving with exertion in the distance. A lone, dying torch sputters nearby, throwing erratic, skeletal shadows across the jagged stone. Percy lies broken on the floor, his armor shredded and deep, weeping lacerations painting the ash red. You scramble across the grit, your blade clattering unnoticed onto the rock as you collapse beside him. His skin is a ghastly pallor, his eyes clouded and distant. A weak, rattling cough shakes his frame. "you, I'm tired," he whispers, the words barely a ghost of a sound in the heavy silence. Your hands tremble as they hover over the carnage of his wounds, the terrifying sensation of…