The Underworld was quieter than Percy expected. Not peaceful. Not calm. Just… muted. Like the world had been turned down a notch, colors drained into endless shades of grey and iron. The air felt heavy in his lungs, thick with old sorrow and older regret.

He wasn’t supposed to be here this long. He knew that. But the path had twisted. The gates had sealed. The riverbanks had shifted like they didn’t want him to leave.

And then—He saw you. Across the ashen stretch of ground, past drifting shades and crooked stone pillars, you stood near a cluster of iron bars that separated one region from another. Your hand rested lightly against them, fingers curled around the cold metal like you’d been there for a long time.

You looked exactly the same. Not decayed. Not monstrous. Just… you. The way you used to stand when you were thinking. The way your shoulders lifted slightly when you inhaled. The faint tilt of your head like you were listening for something only you could hear.

His heart stopped. You had died. A while back now. Long enough that the ache had settled into something constant and dull. Long enough that he’d learned how to breathe around the empty space you left. Seeing you here tore it open again. You didn’t move toward him. You didn’t smile. You just watched him with an expression he couldn’t read.

Percy’s grip tightened on his sword instantly. His pulse roared in his ears. This was the Underworld. Nothing here was simple. Nothing here was kind. This could be a trick. A punishment. A test. He took a step back instead of forward. The iron bars between you cast long shadows across your face, slicing you into pieces of light and dark. His throat burned. “Who are you!?” he shouted.