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chapter xv. ( the lightning thief ) ❝ the truth ( well, sort of ) ❞
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THE FIELDS OF ASPHODEL WAS A STRANGE PLACE. The fields were crowded with dull, flat faces of the dead on fields of darkness. They whispered among one another, but I couldn't hear a word they said. Out of curiosity, I tried using my power, but no warmth came, no light fought the dark – and it drained me to try.
The cavern ceiling was so high above it might've been a bank of storm clouds, except for the stalactites, wickedly pointed and glowing a faint grey. The black grass was trampled from hundreds of ghostly feet. Black poplar trees grew in patches here and there. Several fallen stalactites had impaled the ground. As we walked past them I eyed the ceiling, scared that the points would fall on us too.
Percy, Annabeth, Grover and I tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. The faces of the dead would shimmer, making it hard to pinpoint a look or familiar face. They all looked the same, either angry or confused. They would come up to us and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realise we couldn't understand them, they frowned and moved away.
Stories of the dead seemed to always be scary. But these weren't scary, they were just sad. And it all made me sad to see them.
We crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates towards a black tented pavilion with a banner that read:
JUDGEMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ENTERNAL DAMNATION Welcome, Newly Deceased!
Out of the back of tent cane two much smaller lines. To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path towards the Fields of Punishment, which flowed and smoked in the distance. Rivers of lava and minefields and barb wire separated the different tortures. I could see off in the horizon the ant-sized figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top.
There were people being burnt at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches, being chased by hellhounds or listening to opera. And there were worse tortures – ones I where I had to look away from, ones I couldn't dare to describe.
The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led to a small valley surrounded by walls – a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld.
Elysium was filled with beautiful neighbourhoods of houses stretching all from different time-periods. Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian and Georgian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled with in rainbow colours, accompanied with joyous laughter and the smell of barbecue cooking.
