Tartarus arteries

My friends must reach the Doors of Death,” Bob said. “That is the way out.”
“Impossible,” Damasen muttered. “The Doors are too well guarded.” Annabeth sat forward. “But you know where they are?”
“Of course. All of Tartarus flows down to one place: his heart. The Doors of Death are there.



You can open your eyes,” Percy said, breathing hard. “But you won’t like what you see.” Annabeth blinked. After the darkness of Nyx, even the dim red glow of Tartarus seemed blinding.
Before them stretched a valley big enough to fit the San Francisco Bay. The booming noise came from the entire landscape, as if thunder were echoing from beneath the ground. Under poisonous clouds, the rolling terrain glistened purple with dark red and blue scar lines.
“Tt looks like...” Annabeth fought down her revulsion. “Like a giant heart.” “The heart of Tartarus,” Percy murmured.



Titan rose to his full height. “Let us go, then, friends. Not much farther.” Stomping on Tartarus’s heart wasn’t nearly as much fun as it sounded.
The purplish ground was slippery and constantly pulsing. It looked flat from a distance, but up close it was made of folds and ridges that got harder to navigate the farther they walked. Gnarled lumps of red arteries and blue veins gave Percy some footholds when he had to climb, but the going was slow.
And of course, the monsters were everywhere. Packs of hellhounds prowled the plains, baying and snarling and attacking any monster that dropped its guard. Arai wheeled overhead on leathery wings, making ghastly dark silhouettes in the poison clouds.
Percy stumbled. His hand touched a red artery, and a tingling sensation went up his arm.
“There’s water in here,” he said. “Actual water.” Bob grunted. “One of the five rivers. His blood.”
“His blood?” Annabeth stepped away from the nearest clump of veins. “I knew the Underworld rivers all emptied into Tartarus, but—”
“Yes,” Bob agreed. “They all flow through his heart.” Percy traced his hand across a web of capillaries. Was the water of the Styx flowing beneath his fingers, or maybe the Lethe? If one of those veins popped
when he stepped on it... Percy shuddered.
He realized he was taking a stroll across the most dangerous circulatory system in the universe.


Percy gave a battle cry. At the Cyclopes’ feet, a red vein in the ground burst open, spraying the monsters with liquid fire from the Phlegethon. The firewater might have healed mortals, but it didn’t do the Cyclopes any favors. They combusted in a tidal wave of heat. The burst vein sealed itself, but nothing remained of the monsters except a row of scorch marks.
“Annabeth, you have to go!” Percy said. “We can’t both stay!” “No!” she cried. “Duck!”
He didn’t ask why. He crouched, and Annabeth vaulted over him, bringing her sword down on the head of a heavily tattooed ogre.
She and Percy stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, waiting for the next wave. The exploding vein had given the monsters pause, but it wouldn’t be long before they remembered: Hey, wait, there’s seventy-five gazillion of us, and only two of them.






HoH ch.39/56