A very tense meeting in this chapter- hah, you guys didn't think I'd give you the Tartarus trio right away did you? I'm not that nice.

Things had been- difficult since the fall, Hazel still felt heavy and guilty most of the time even though she knew it wasn't her fault.

Everything was falling apart, they'd moved on- they'd had no choice in the end- Annabeth had resumed her roles as the defacto leader- and was worrying all of them a lot.

The only who could convince the daughter of Athena to do anything was Rachel- and even she struggled to drag Annabeth off to eat and sleep, and it was never for long enough really.

Will was broken too- Hazel couldn't blame him she'd seen the way he looked at Nico, they were in love and Nico was gone and Will couldn't follow- he was going through the same thing as Rachel and Annabeth except he hadn't gotten a goodbye.

And of course there was Luke, he was one of the hardest hit by everything. He'd lost three of his siblings in one blow, and it had been clear from the start that being a big brother was a central part of his very being and he felt like he'd failed.

Honestly none of them were holding up well, but at least they were moving, fighting still, they all knew that if they gave up it would be failing the trio who had fallen, and no one wanted to fail Percy, Nico and Leo.

Unfortunately it wasn't exactly easy- Annabeth had managed to take control of running the Argo II, though she was nowhere near the expert Leo was, he'd made preparations after Nemesis' warning, simplified it somewhat so that it would be easier if he wasn't there- and Annabeth had spent a lot of time working on the Archimedes sphere book- though Hazel could tell that she was frustrated with it- oh she found it fascinating but she wasn't as much of a mechanic at heart as Leo was.

In any case, they'd tried to cross the spine of Italy they were attacked my mountain gods.

Hazel had been praying for a sign, for help of some kind from her father- a dangerous thing to do considering the fact that she was technically supposed to be dead- when it happened. She'd spotted a flicker of movement on the horizon, and she she'd realised that it was Arion she'd almost sobbed with joy, and, after Annabeth had approved she'd climbed down the ladder to meet her horse.

Arion had seemed pretty happy to see her, and he'd made it clear very easily that he wanted her to rise him, that he wanted to take her somewhere, and she'd let him take her into an admittedly terrifying looking storm.

And Hazel had known, she'd known she had to go there, she trusted Arion, but still, it was nerve-wracking to say the least, and when she entered the storm it felt almost like a different dimension. The world lost its color. The walls of the storm encircled the hill in murky black. The sky churned gray. The crumbling ruins were bleached so white, they almost glowed. Even Arion had turned from caramel brown to a dark shade of ash.

In the eye of the tempest, the air was still. Hazel's skin tingled coolly, as if she'd been rubbed with alcohol. In front of her, an arched gateway led through mossy walls into some sort of enclosure.

Hazel couldn't see much through the gloom, but she felt a presence within, as if she were a chunk of iron close to a large magnet. Its pull was irresistible, dragging her forward.

Yet she hesitated. She reined in Arion, and he clopped impatiently, the ground crackling under his hooves. Wherever he stepped, the grass, dirt, and stones turned white like frost. Hazel remembered the Hubbard Glacier in Alaska—how the surface had cracked under their feet. She remembered the floor of that horrible cavern in Rome crumbling to dust, plunging into Tartarus, swallowing Percy, Nico and Leo with it

She hoped this black-and-white hilltop wouldn't dissolve under her, but she decided it was best to keep moving.

"Let's go, then, boy." Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were speaking into a pillow.

Arion trotted through the stone archway. Ruined walls bordered a square courtyard about the size of a tennis court.

Three other gateways, one in the middle of each wall, led north, east, and west. In the center of the yard, two cobblestone paths intersected, making a cross. Mist hung in the air—hazy shreds of white that coiled and undulated as if they were alive.

Not mist, Hazel realized. The Mist.

All her life, she'd heard about the Mist—the supernatural veil that obscured the world of myth from the sight of mortals. It could deceive humans, even demigods, into seeing monsters as harmless animals, or gods as regular people. She knew that Percy's evil stalker could even manipulate it.

Hazel had never thought of it as actual smoke, but as she watched it curling around Arion's legs, floating through the broken arches of the ruined courtyard, the hairs stood up on her arms. Somehow she knew: this white stuff was pure magic.

In the distance, a dog howled. Arion wasn't usually scared of anything, but he reared, huffing nervously.

"It's okay." Hazel stroked his neck. "We're in this together. I'm going to get down, all right?"

She slid off Arion's back. Instantly he turned and ran.

"Arion, wai—"

But he'd already disappeared the way he'd come.

So much for being in this together.

Another howl cut through the air—closer this time.

Hazel stepped toward the centre of the courtyard. The Mist clung to her like freezer fog.

"Hello?" she called.

"Hello," a voice answered.

The pale figure of a woman appeared at the northern gateway. No, wait…she stood at the eastern entrance. No, the western. Three smoky images of the same woman moved in unison toward the centre of the ruins. Her form was blurred, made from Mist, and she was trailed by two smaller wisps of smoke, darting at her heels like animals. Some sort of pets?
She reached the centre of the courtyard and her three forms merged into one. She solidified into a young woman in a dark sleeveless gown. Her golden hair was gathered into a high-set ponytail, Ancient Greek style. Her dress was so silky, it seemed to ripple, as if the cloth were ink spilling off her shoulders. She looked no more than twenty, but Hazel knew that meant nothing.

"Hazel Levesque," said the woman.

She was beautiful, but deathly pale. Once, back in New Orleans, Hazel had been forced to attend a wake for a dead classmate. She remembered the lifeless body of the young girl in the open casket. Her face had been made up prettily, as if she were resting, which Hazel had found terrifying.

This woman reminded Hazel of that girl—except the woman's eyes were open and completely black. When she tilted her head, she seemed to break into three different people again…misty after images blurring together, like a photograph of someone moving too fast to capture.

"Who are you?" Hazel's fingers twitched at the hilt of her sword. "I mean…which goddess?" Hazel was sure of that much.

This woman radiated power. Everything around them—the swirling Mist, the monochromatic storm, the eerie glow of the ruins—was because of her presence.

"Ah." The woman nodded. "Let me give you some light."

She raised her hands. Suddenly she was holding two old-fashioned reed torches, guttering with fire. The Mist receded to the edges of the courtyard. At the woman's sandaled feet, the two wispy animals took on solid form. One was a black Labrador retriever. The other was a long, gray, furry rodent with a white mask around its face. A weasel, maybe?

The woman smiled serenely.

"It is good that you came alone- there are those on your ship who would not react kindly to my presence. I am Hecate. Goddess of magic. We have much to discuss if you're to live through tonight.

And Hazel's eyes widened, shock ran through her like a bolt of lightening. It- it couldn't be. It was insane.

"You- you're-"

"The mother of Alabaster Torrington." the goddesses expression turned pained at that. "Yes, I am."

"You-" Hazel swallowed hard, fingers curling into fists, "You know what he did- you know what he is-"

"Of course I do." Hecates voice was firm, "He is my child. I fought against the Olympians in the war girl, believe me I know what my son is."

"He's a monster." Hazel blurted out the words before she could stop herself- she knew of course, that offending a goddess probably wasn't the best idea but she felt angry- she'd seen the damage the goddesses son had done to her friend. She hated him.

"He wasn't always." the goddesses expression was sad, "There was a time- when he was younger before he became bitter and angry at the world. Unfortunately my son was foolish enough to listen to Kronos, as was I. I hold no ill will towards you or your friends- or indeed the daughter of Poseidon who ended his life once."

"And what about when we kill him again?" Hazel asked, her eyes narrowing. "Because that's what will happen if we ever see him again."

"I fear that he has chosen his path- the chances of you seeing him again... they are not high." the goddess closed her eyes- and when she opened them they were a piercing green, like emeralds Hazel decided- and given how much experience she had with gems she was pretty good at telling when it came to that type of thing. "I will mourn when his time comes- and it fear it will be sooner than later- but- whatever his fate shall be, he has brought it upon himself. Even I cannot- the things he's done go beyond what I can approve of-"

"Good to know- where exactly did you draw the line? Was it the stalking? The first time he assaulted her- that's what he did- every single time he kissed her against her will? Was it when he hit her, when he locked her up on Mount Orthys so that he could force her to marry him! Where do you draw the line!"

"Child." Hecate raised a hand, "I am not here to argue with you about my son. As I said- I will mourn him because he is my son but his choices are his own and I do not approve of much of what he did- I pity the daughter of Poseidon. Truly I do, and whatever is to happen when they meet once more I will not blame her in the slightest. She has my every sympathy. But they are not why I am here. I am here because of you." Hecate tilted her head, eyes flicking up and down, as if they were examining her, as if she was looking past Hazel's flesh and bones and into the very depths of her soul. Which was not a pleasant feeling. Hazel couldn't help but wonder what she saw.

She'd come to terms with the idea that what had happened when she'd been younger wasn't her fault- it was Gaea who was responsible for that, but- still, the way the goddess was looking at her made her think of that- of her greatest mistake, made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

"Me? What could you want from me?"

And Hecate was silent for a moment before she responded. "You remind me of your mother. You look much like her. Other than your eyes." and Hazel stepped back, eyes widening as her throat constricted.

"Y-you knew my mother?"