DISCLAIMER: Rick Riordan owns PJatO and HoO. Not us. If we did, it wouldn't be as awesome as it is.

oOo

"Okay, I got a good one!" Hunter said, bouncing absent-mindedly on my bed. Brook and I ducked to avoid the resulting swing of her scythe. Yes, a scythe, made of steel and Celestial bronze with a sliver of Stygian iron on its end. She saw our dodge and chuckled, bringing it back to her. Along the shaft, standing out in this low light against the dark wood, was its name engraved; Anonymous.

"You," she said, "are backed against a wall. You have three enemies on the ground surrounding you, and one above. They are closing in. How do you get out?"

"What are they?" Brook asked. "The enemies?"

Hunter considered that for a moment. "Hm… Let's start with hellhounds."

While Brook thought, I said, "Shadow travel around and kill them all."

"Okay, well, yeah, if you want to do that and just so happen to have the ability," Hunter agreed. "Come on, be more creative."

"So the hellhound is, like, climbing the wall?" Brook asked, puzzled again.

"Yes. How do you get out?"

Brook smiled. "You bust through the wall."

Hunter grinned and tussled her hair. "There ya go! That's my girl!"

"Oh, psh," I muttered. "Shadow traveling works, too."

"My turn!" Brook said happily, clapping her hands. Then she closed her eyes. "Okay, okay. Here's the scenario; you're bound by magic-resistant cord and being lowered into the Styx. What do you do?"

"Pray your mother's okay with it and shoot for the Curse," Hunter said.

Brook smiled and shook her head. "Nope. Simpler than that."

"That seemed simple to me," I said, eyes wide. Will to survive? That's all it took.

"Think simpler."

"Die, perhaps?"

"I said simple, not lazy."

"It's only lazy if there was something you could do to prevent it," Hunter said.

"Exactly!" Brook yelled, exasperated. She fell back onto the pillows. "Ugh. You two are hopeless."

"That we are. That we are," Hunter sighed, grabbing her scythe with both hands. She yanked the shaft as if to twist it into snapping; instead, the weapon began to shrink in her hands, the blades retracting (she had a spare one on its end) and changing their colors until she held a pencil. Anonymous was still engraved in its side. She slid the pencil behind her ear, its newest home, and got off the bed. She stood at the window and stared down at the snow-covered parking lot. Starlight gave her contour a sharp white edge and glinted coldly in her eyes.

"Think," Brook said, her own gaze locked on the ceiling. She couldn't see Hunter's face. "What tools do you have?"

Hunter didn't answer, continuing her solemn glare. I knew what she was thinking of. So would Brook, had she looked. But I was not sure why. Even so, I didn't dare voice it.

"Yourself," I said. "Any non-magical weapon on you that may be within your reach."

"Assume you have none," Brook amended. "What else?"

"The river."

We both turned to look at Hunter. Her monotone silenced us. "The river. You twist so that the river melts your bonds, then use magic as is your wont and escape." At last her gaze lifted to us. "That's how you survive."

Brook ignored the pained, dark thoughts in Hunter's eyes and clapped. She knew there was no other cure. "That's it! Though I hope you're faster than that in reality, 'cause I'd have roasted you guys by now."

"Roast, technically, no," I said. "We'd be, body and soul, melted away not even to dust but out of existence entirely. Erased from memory. From the world. No roast."

"Pity," Hunter murmured. "Roast tastes good."

There was an awkward silence then. We stared at one another and around the room, searching the air for a change of subject. There was none.

"Hunter," Brook eventually said. "It's your turn. To make a scenario."

"Right," Hunter said, and gave her a small smile. The fun had been sucked out of the game. The laughs we'd shared over the first thirty minutes were long, long gone by now. "Two leucrotae get into your room at night. You're home alone. Windows and doors are blocked by the demons. How do you escape?"

I frowned, thinking first to remember what leucrotae were. Lion-things, right? The ones that could chew through absolutely anything? "Uh…"

"You could fight them," Brook said, "though one against one is pretty hopeless, anyway. You'd die."

"What tools," Hunter said in a mock of Brook's voice, "do you have?"

"Nothing that they can't eat right out of your hands," Brook retorted.

Hunter's eye caught mine, and now, the starlight in her irises was dancing. Dancing like the flames of a fire. I tied my smile away and kept a straight face, turning away again, frowning at my blankets as if thinking.

"Well…" Brook said. "It's nighttime, though that doesn't help… You could bust through the wall again, I guess?"

"And fall to the concrete twenty feet below? Good luck," Hunter sniffed.

My fingers played with the bedspread as I pretended to let my mind wander. "Hm. No reinforcements? No teams?"

Hunter heard my double-meaning. "None. Every man for himself."

"I know!" Brook howled. "You toss one of the dogs at them, they all go for it, and you make your escape!"

We stared at her. "Well, yeah, I guess…" Hunter said.

My fingers tightened on a pillow. "Or you could do this!"

I whirled around, throwing my weight into my arm, and smacked Brook in the back of the head with the deadly, artificial marshmallow. She landed face-down on the bed and writhed, screeching into the blankets.

Hunter dashed forward and grabbed her own weapon. Too busy laughing at Brook, I got a mouthful of pillowcase so hard I crashed into the wall. Her shrieking laughter was the only thing I heard.

Oh, it was on!

I howled and lunged forward, flying off the bed at her. She cussed and ducked to one side, and I shot past through empty air. As I went, her pillow slammed into my back. Then I crashed into the wall, my body twisting in a way I'm sure wasn't natural, pain lancing through my shoulder and my right arm like hot needles. I gasped, out of breath, as I was assaulted with pillows from behind.

You know, on second thought, starting a pillow fight near a second-story window with Hunter involved didn't sound like the best idea. But definitely the most entertaining.

High on sugar and pain and the surge of a bloody fight, I yelled and twisted, digging my nails into Hunter's pillow. She yelped and took it back-

-Brook's own cushion smashed into her face, shoving her against the door with a loud crack! as it banged against the frame. I grabbed my pillow and leapt to my feet so quickly I stumbled.

Immediately, the small brunet whirled on her heels and snapped her pillow across my face. I saw white and felt a heavy weight on my head. A scream of victory split the air like fireworks and suddenly my feet were gone – I was on the bed, pinned.

I twisted my head and spat, straining against her. She had me pinned by the shoulders with her knees and beat my head over and over with the pillow. I tried to catch it and got a mouthful of stuffing.

Hunter laughed manically and joined in, her own ripped case slamming into my dangling feet.

"No fair!" I growled, trashing. One of Brook's knees came loose. "Every girl for herself!"

At last, as I wrenched once more to the side, I gained enough room to use my pillow. I hit Hunter first. She swung for me, but I ducked, and she clubbed Brook so hard that our younger sister fell backwards off of me. With a howl of triumph, I jumped up again. Hunter scowled, but I dodged her last strike and took to pounding her like she stood between me and the last exit to the collapsing Labyrinth.

I heard the bed creak as Brook reared behind me, but tensed, ready-

The door opened, freezing us all where we were and stealing every inch of attention.

Granny frowned at us, the light from the hallway outlining her in a halo. Her hazel eyes burned and she said flatly, "Scenario; you are caught red-handed committing the destructive and dangerous crime of pillow-fighting at nine-oh-five at night and are cornered by your grandmother. What do you do?"

"Plead for forgiveness and smile like an angel?" Hunter tried, giving her best yeah-right-if-I'm-innocent-then-you're-the-Lydian- drakon grin.

Granny glared at her and tapped her fingers impatiently on her crossed arms. "No. You stop fighting, get ready for bed, and plead for forgiveness when you return from school the next day. Anything else leaves you dead and buried. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," we muttered and put the pillows down. I detangled myself from the sheets and Brook's pillow. Hunter stood and stretched, popping the bones in her shoulders. Brook scurried out the door like a mouse and took refuge behind the locked door to the bathroom across the hall.

Granny sighed and shifted her weight, making the house's old floorboards creak and groan. "When you fall asleep in class tomorrow, I don't want to hear about it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hunter repeated. I echoed it softly as my cousin/sister/bff slid past Granny and disappeared down the hall.

My grandmother then turned her scalding gaze to me. "You know, between Hunter getting carried away and Brook's age, it's your job to prevent things like this."

I snorted. "Me? Control Hunter? Please. She leads us."

"Maybe so, but have you ever considered playing the role of the one rational voice of the group?"

I pretended to consider that. "Let me think… Oh, yeah, I did! Right before Atlas dropped the sky and threw himself a bachelor party. You know, full-blown, with beer and confetti and who-knows-what-else."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Alright, alright, I get it. I get it. I guess Brook is more suited for the job, anyway." She turned to leave but halted. Once again, her voice had turned stern and cold. I shrank down at the scolding. "What is that cup doing on your nightstand?"

"I, uh… Put it there…"

"Why?"

"Because I was drinking out of it…"

"And what's the rule about drinks upstairs?"

"…There are never to be drinks brought upstairs…"

"Exactly. Pick that up and take it back down before you do anything else, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," I sighed, and grabbed the china mug. It felt cold on my fingers. Come to think of it, it was chilly tonight. Clouds had blotted out the stars, and I could taste frost in the air, a gentle but edgy scent. It was going to snow tonight.

As I walked past Granny, she said, "Hold up."

I paused and glanced at her. "Hm?"

"Look at your hand. No, not that one! The one holding the cup."

I frowned at my fingers. They were wrapped around the cup in a way that felt natural. Though looking at it, I found it a little odd. My fingers were curled yet splayed in a strange formation. "…What about it?"

"You hold it like it's a bow," Granny said, almost in awe.

Now I rolled my eyes. "I couldn't fire a bow to save my life."

"No, no, not that kind of bow. A bow, like what you use to play the violin."

"…Oh." I had never taken an interest in classical music. "Okay, then." I moved to head down the stairs.

"Your mother. She used to play, you know."

Now I froze. Granny had never spoken a word about my mother. Or Hunter's. She acted like she'd never had daughters in the first place.

"I still have her violin," Granny was musing, rambling on to herself. "It's probably in that old storage room downstairs…"

I waited, but she turned and walked down the hall, leaving me with no other glimpse at the woman I'd long forgotten.

oOo

"Do you think we're lazy?"

I blinked. "Huh? Lazy?"

Hunter had her own room. As did Brook, and as did I, the very room we were sitting in. Every wall of the house was white, including mine, because nobody had ever gotten around to painting it. We had enough bedrooms for everyone because it really wasn't a house, anyway; it was two apartments, and we rented both to avoid neighbors and give ourselves space. Space – the house could use a lot of it.

Yet here Hunter was, in my room. I couldn't think of one day in my life I'd slept in a separate room from her. Brook we had met three years before, but Hunter and I had grown up together, every day and night and hour I could remember – she was there. My friend. My sister. My mother. So she tended to come to my room a lot. Or I'd go to hers. We didn't mind double-bunking.

"Yeah," she sighed. In the dark, I could make out the shape of her nose, poking out towards the ceiling. "Lazy. Like Brook said. About…"

My mood plummeted. "Oh." The house groaned and squeaked around us, lost in the wind of tonight's snowstorm. The taste of toothpaste was still strong in my mouth. "About there being something to do. To save a life."

"Right, that," she whispered. The dull tone she'd had earlier while looking out the window came back. "Are we lazy?"

My blood ran cold. Turned to ice. Were we? Gods, we had tried, but…

…Horrible things had been done in the past year of our lives. To us, by us. Horrible things had gone down with us as the witnesses. Sometimes, the only witnesses. For a year, our lives were dominated by war. Demons and magic and a great rift in a family, torn apart, feeding the knife that continued to draw blood. For centuries, people had bled and put on Band-Aids. The scab was ripped off, and war erupted, and we'd been in it…

The war was the easiest thing to remember from that point in my life. It stung. It haunted my dreams. It threatened my pulse and my breath and loomed above my mind like a hungry demon. But it was the easier thing to think of.

Alone, Hunter, Brook and I brought up the war often. We talked. We discussed. We worked on getting over it. We tried to accept the blood spilled and the lives we'd taken. Despite the guilt. Despite the horror.

And then, the hardest memories…

"…Do you think we are?" I rasped, clenching my right hand so hard my nails punctured the skin on my palm. I bit my tongue and squeezed my eyes shut.

She shrugged. "I don't know. That's why I asked you."

The bed creaked as I turned towards her, to my left, thoroughly ignoring the air on my right. It pressed down on me like a steam roller. "I… I tried, I don't know why he slipped, don't know why he fell, but-"

"-Not that! Not that," she said, eyes widening. "No, not that. You held on tight enough. Don't ever doubt that."

I trusted Hunter, but the words had been said. I was panting now, panting despite the cold, lost. Lost in the screams of a fight. Alone in a cold throne room. Save the warm hand in mine, so panicked I could feel his pulse through our fingers, nails digging into his wrist, his weight pulling us down, a wide, dark green eye meeting mine for just a moment-

-And then he vanished. His hand fell away, and he was gone. Something cold, hard, and metal had taken the place of his fingers against my palm. I didn't like thinking about that object, either.

"Why ask?" I rasped. "Why ask anyway?"

We never mentioned Ethan. Never. The memories were way too painful.

She shrugged, as if perfectly at peace. But her tone betrayed her. "It's just a question. Do you think we could've saved more people?"

I considered for a moment, ignoring the burning poison in my throat, searching. For any excuse. "…The people in the infirmary. That your dad ordered you to kill. Did you do it?"

"No," she breathed, distracted. "I didn't go near them. I waited at where the bridge had been, between Olympus and the elevator. Just sat there and waited. Sometimes I wonder what'd have happened if I'd come back."

I closed my eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. It didn't help. "I… I don't know, Hunter, I don't…"

I couldn't speak further. I turned away, to my right, staring at the empty air. My fists tightened on the bedspread. Gripping, holding onto anything, as tight as I could. He wouldn't fall. He wouldn't fall…

…But he had. He'd fallen from my fingers. Down six hundred floors and onto concrete.

As I usually felt when thinking of him, for my brain visited the memories much more often than my mouth, I could've sworn someone had stabbed me through the chest. I placed a hand there to make sure I was still solid. But of course I was. No pain this real came from a material gain or loss.

And we had been so close. Had he not fallen, he'd have survived. Or, had a great chance of living, anyway. And he'd have come here with us. He'd have been so happy. But he had left us, or had been taken, whichever way you like to put it. He was just… just gone.

It was so hard to wrap my mind around that concept.

I wished he was there. So I could ask him what to do. How to cope. But, of course, Ethan was no longer in his customary place.

Unable to find anything else to do, I buried my head in my pillow and cried.

oOo

That night, I dreamed of music.

I didn't know where it was from. I didn't know where I was. It was dark and I was floating and there it was. The song. Dancing through the air, twirling around its notes, a minor key so enticing it made my chest ache. The laments flowed like liquid. A horrible, sad song, yet so beautiful. Each note made my body hum. Each perfectly placed pitch rang in my ears, clear as a bell. The melody told me it was a funeral bell.

The song wailed. It cried. Such strong laments. So many. I wished I knew who they belonged to.

But I couldn't even find an instrument to name the music by.

Instead, I did my best to sing along, wordless notes ripping themselves from my mouth. My own laments took flight, playing with the song's somber notes, howling of Ethan and the blood I'd spilled with my hands and the horrors that to this day dance before my eyes. I lost myself in the melody. The harmony kept me in place among the thick, confusing song, making sure I wouldn't find my way back.

Gods, I cried. I sobbed. I let it take me away to my deepest sorrows. It wasn't relieving at the time. Nor uplifting. Nor depressing. Just sorrow; just a moment to wallow in it, to wail, to tell the world of the horrible things it ranked insignificant.

They were significant. That night, they were the most important things to ever exist.

I lifted my voice to the stars – yes, stars! I could see them above me now – and cried, my tongue forming hollow bass notes, and sang to this strange new song.

Stupid. The first thing I'd learned in life was to never speak to a stranger.

oOo

Nyx: D,X U GUYS R GONNA MAKE ME CRY! I'm too socially stupid to know what your silence means!

Nic: There there, child. Calm yourself. Don't scream in mama's ear, now. Why don't we discuss the chapter, huh? You know, the point of these ANs?

Nyx: So yeah, still some opening scenes. Developing a few character relationships and current states. Conflict is building, some mysterious things. Yay. This chapter was a tad shorter. The next one will pick up and start throwing these puzzle pieces together. In a big jumble.

Nic: Please, please, please review! Review, review, review! We need to hear what you have to say! Seriously, tell us anything! Speak as reader or writer. Or both. What do you like? What don't you? What surprised you? What intrigues you? Do you have predictions? Heck, do you like the new posting schedule? TELL US!

Nyx: Yes, please. Please tell us. I have said this before, and I'll say it a million times more; things are written to be read. So let us know you're there.

Nic: Oh, yeah, you've said that before.

Nyx: On a different note, just kind of a side question/wondering out loud, I saw Snow White and the Huntsman. I liked the soundtrack. Very well-done. And dang, Kiersten finally figured out how to act.

Nic: Really? R u sure?

Nyx: Don't know what happened for Twilight, but yes, I'm sure… Though if they make her play Max in Maximum Ride, I will riot Hollywood. With screwdrivers.

Nic: Oh, and for anyone who cares, Sea of Monsters movie has been bumped up again. It now comes out on August seventh. Woot! It looks a lot better than TLT!

Nyx: Maybe, until Thursday rolls around, we can all stare at the trailers. Or HoH's cover. Well, until Thursday, then! Uh… I…

Nic: Did the socially stupid one forget how to end a conversation?

Nyx: Yes, yes she did.

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