𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐧 || Percy Jackson

Fourteen

The Fields of Asphodel.

It was like a giant crowd of people, millions just waiting for something to begin, for something to happen. But nothing ever would because it seemed as if time was frozen, as if everything just....stopped.

If you can picture that, you have a pretty good idea of what the Fields of Asphodel looked like. The black grass had been trampled by eons of dead feet. A warm, moist wind blew like the breath of a swamp. Black trees-Grover told them they were polars-grew in clumps here and there.

The cavern ceiling was so high above them it might've been a bank of storm clouds. Except for the stalactites, which glowed faint grey and looked wickedly pointed.

".....an't just- and he did." Aurora's voice faded in before she did, the girl rolling her eyes and turning to her friends. She shrugged and followed their lead of trying to blend in with the crowd and keep an eye out for the security ghouls.

It was hard to look at the dead. Their faces shimmered when you stared directly at them. They all looked slightly angry or confused. They would come up to them and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realized you couldn't understand them, they would 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 towards a black pavilion with a banner.

JUDGEMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION Welcome, Newly Deceased!

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

To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path towards the Fields of Punishment. It 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, Percy could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches, or listen to opera music. He could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder up the hill.

He saw worse tortures, things he didn't want to describe.

"Oh, they caught a predator." Aurora muttered, staring off at the field. Percy was still getting used to her reactions to things, but her unbotherdness of whatever she saw happening unnerved him a bit. Also that she recognized a torture tactic to know who the person was. "Isn't that what they call the ones that like chi- ouch, she's not recovering from that easily."

The line coming from the right side of the pavilion was much better. That 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 gates were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history. Roman villas, medieval castles, and victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns, the grass rippled in rainbow colors. He could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking.

Elysium.

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

"That's what it's all about." Annabeth said, almost as if she were reading his thoughts. "That's the place for heroes."

He thought of how few people were in Elysium, how small it was comapared to the Fields of Asphodel or even the Fields of Punishment. How so little people had done good in their lives. It was a sad, borderline morbid thought.