He cried out, blots of coppery spots dancing in front of his eyes. He inhaled sharply, the misty darkness lashing out again at him. He struck back, his senses unclear. The sickly smell of blood arose, engulfing him entirely.

Screams, shouts, and cries from then and there. Percy didn't know where it was coming from. All he could focus on were the endless taunting of death, telling him that it was almost over. Almost.

"You do not yield," whispered a voice he had came to love so dearly. He was so close to getting up, only to be pushed back then. He would die in the gentle arms of darkness itself, hearing the faint voices of the people he had failed.

He laughed. A strangled, wild sound. He deserved it anyway.

You do not yield, said a voice. A different one, this time. Percy felt cold, rough fingers caress his bloodied face, his eyes rolling back. Another spear of darkness slashed at him, leaving a searing pain enough to make his knees. You do not yield.

His vision blurred, as if someone had smeared oil all over them. He did not know if this was reality or just a figment of imagination. Percy didn't care. He deserved it, all of it. The indescribable pain he felt now was payment for those who he failed.

They feed on what keeps you anchored to the world, making you lose all sense of reality, she had said to him before the war. He had so foolishly thought he could take them all down, one by one.

You do not yield, /emsaid another voice, one that was like his own. He dared look up, his throat dry. That cruel, ruthless smile of darkness reigned the light in a very, very tight leash. With one quick breath, feeling as if it though were his last, Percy splattered red on the stones.

"Percy! Look out!" someone yelled, her voice desperate and panicked. He moved swiftly, turning far enough to the side to dodge the first blow and landing a vicious strike.

"Hey," she yelled at him again, pleading, "continue fighting, okay? We can do this." They can't.

She was hurt, and so were those he loved. Her hair was coaxed with so much blood; it was sickly.

Yet, she still dared smile half-heartedly and muttered, "Remember? You kept saying a few days past that you were a little angel of the Hunt."

"Don't call me that anymore when I've failed countless times."

"Expect me to call you that atrocious name when you die on me." She gave him a smile, a way of showing him there was still hope for the future. For their future

Even though there wasn't.

The sky was engulfed in shades of grey and purple. It blurred as another round of blinding pain came to greet him.

He only saw a dark red.