The ground crumbled beneath your feet. The air turned ice-cold as the pit yawned wide, swallowing you into the abyss. Percy lunged forward, his sea-green eyes wide with horror.

“No!” His voice cracked as he reached for your hand, his fingers barely brushing against yours. His knuckles went white from gripping the ledge, refusing to let you slip away.

The chasm below pulsed with a sickly red glow. The air was thick with the scent of blood and fire. Percy gritted his teeth, his other hand grasping Riptide as if the sword alone could stop fate.

“I’m not letting you go! Hold on—just—” His breath came in ragged gasps. His grip tightened, but the pull of Tartarus was stronger.

Then, in one cruel second, your fingers slipped from his.

Percy let out a sound that wasn’t a word—just raw, broken anguish—as you plummeted into the endless dark. Without a second thought, he dove after you.