To my reviewers: thank you. I've thought about it, and this should go on a little longer, as most of you suggested. And to VisciousTiger11—very sharp, what you said came to mind. That is exactly why Annabeth referred to it as Shadow—because it was also on my mind.


What struck me was how desolate it was, how horribly empty, devoid of life. I adjusted my footing, looked at the unconscious girl in my arms. An image flashed to mind of her stuck here, alone. What would have happened had she fallen by herself—what would be if I failed.

The thought pushed me on. I carefully moved on, further down the mountain. It had felt like hours since I woke up, but there had been no change in the light. It was still twilight, still a shadow. The silence unnerved me. Annabeth hadn't been heavy at first, but I was getting tired, and could barely walk at normal pace. My hands and feet didn't hurt from the cold anymore. I hoped that didn't mean I had gangrene… if I could find water, hopefully it would heal me. I kept looking around, expecting something to attack.

But nothing did. It was as if we were banished, sent to a wasteland where nothing could live. I leaned against a boulder, breathing heavily, stamping my feet. The mountain went out focus again, blurred. I grimaced, trying to focus. We wouldn't make it much farther like this. I could barely walk. Annabeth… I had never seen Annabeth in that bad of shape, when we found her in Arachne's layer. Then, when we got father down, closer to the doors… it would be hopeless. Literally. The creatures would be there, fighting to get out. I would have to find a way through them.

"You know, I once read an interesting book which said that, uh, most people lost in the wilds, they, they die of shame." I shook my head, looked around. A blurry shape of a man stood a few feet away. I stared at him, uncomprehending. He couldn't be real. He looked like an older businessman, or something, dressed in the sort of coat people rich people wear in New York... And he wouldn't look so calm, trapped here… A faint whisper answered him, and he addressed someone I couldn't see, sounding patient, thoughtful. "Yeah, see, they die of shame. 'What did I do wrong? How could I have gotten myself into this?' And so they sit there and they... die. Because they didn't do the one thing that would save their lives."

"And what is that, Charles?" another whispered answered him, sounding tired and frustrated. The shape turned, looked straight at me.

"Thinking."The voice faded. I rubbed my eyes, and the man was gone. I glanced around, half-expecting him to appear again. But we were alone—and now snow was falling, but only lightly.

"Think." I said quietly. "Think." I didn't know if I was hallucinating, or maybe getting a message from the gods… I looked around, straining to catch any detail. To my right was a slightly easier path. I shifted Annabeth, took it—

Only for my foot to go into the second rock I stepped on, literally. I stared at it stupidly. It wasn't a rock.

It was a pack of some sort, almost covered in ice. I glanced around, half-expecting some monstrosity to leap out. Nothing happened. Nothing disturbed the cold silence. I glanced at Annabeth. She was breathing steadily, which had to be a good sign. I shook her a little, brushing my face against hers.

"Hey." I whispered. "Found something." She stirred, but didn't wake. Not yet, anyway. I surveyed my surroundings, trying to decide which was less horrible—the snow, or the rock. I picked neither, and awkwardly sat next to the pack, keeping as much of a hold on Annabeth as I could without putting her down. My grip shifted, brushed her thigh—a sudden warmth making my hand stop. I reached into her pocket, touched something hot.

It was the coin I had seen her hold earlier—a silver drachma with an eagle on it... no, it was an owl. Athena didn't have anything to do with eagles… I turned it in my hand, amazed. It was glowing, and warm, so warm it hurt my hands. But even as I examined it, the glow faded, the silver cooled. I cursed. I turned it over in my hand, considering. It wasn't cooling too quickly, it would stay warm for another few minutes… It wasn't very appropriate, but I tugged at the collar of Annabeth's shirt, and put the still-warm coin on her upper chest. I remembered a survival class… if someone was freezing cold, you weren't supposed to warm the hands or feet first. You were supposed to warm their center, preferably with blankets or warm drinks first... if you warmed hands first, the warm blood would shock the heart, or something like that… sadly, we didn't have any hot chocolate or blankets. She stirred a little. I reached over to the trapped backpack.

I batted as much of the snow as I could off the pack, and yanked it free, wondering how it could have gotten here. The zipper was frozen shut, so I uncapped Riptide and sliced it open, before reaching in slowly.

A canteen, frozen solid. I sniffed it, couldn't tell what it held. A bag holding a—sandwich? I inspected it, only half-surprised to not see any mold. I sniffed. It didn't smell bad, or even look old. Apparently nothing could grow here, not even mold or bacteria. The next thing I found was a pair of leather gloves. I gratefully slipped the right on my hand, figuring I'd give the other to her. I reached farther into the pack—felt my hand touch metal. I pulled it out further, and found myself holding a large handgun. I paused for a moment, surprised. I wasn't a great shot, but Athena cabin had started training with firearms recently. I pressed the magazine button, and it slid out. I checked the back. It had three slots down the back, showing the glint of cartridges. I guessed maybe five bullets were in, only a third full.

"Where… where are we?" Annabeth stirred awake, still mostly in my lap. Her eyes seemed clearer, her gaze focused. She sat up, looked around. She felt something and reached under her shirt. "What?" She held the coin up.

It was glowing again, now that she was touching it.

"I felt it through your pocket, warm." I said shortly, trying to speak clearly, despite the cold. "It stopped glowing as soon as I touched it." I mutely handed her the other glove, which she slid on.

"It only reacts to a child of Athena." Annabeth guessed. "Here, take a turn." She handed it to me. The glow faded as soon as I touched it, but it would still be warm for a minute or two. I put the warm coin against my neck, then I showed her the pack.

"We're closer to the base of the mountain." I said. I held up the handgun. She accepted it silently.

"Beretta 92f, made about 1985, in Italy." She said, slowly, looking at it. "They changed the model number later…" I slowly took another item out, making us both stare.

A celestial bronze dagger. Annabeth froze for a moment, as we realized where this probably came from.

"Another demigod, searching for the statue." I muttered. "The floor had cracks—"

"And the bag probably fell through, thirty years ago." She finished. She took the dagger, checked the blade. "Useable. We should take this with us." Annabeth gestured for me to take the handgun. I found two spare magazines in the pack.

"Will it do any good?" I asked. She didn't answer.

"Rack the slide. Like I showed you before." She said. I grasped the icy metal and pulled it back. It took a pull, but the metal gave, and I glimpsed a normal bullet sliding into place before I let the slide return. I knew that bullets didn't stay good forever, and was tempted to test fire it. But in this silence, it would be like a cannon going off. I didn't dare. We both just sat there for a moment, looking at each other, the pack, the mountain. There was everything to say—but it didn't form into words. Didn't emerge.I looked around us, half-expecting some demon to appear, maybe the ghost of Luke Castellan.

Nothing. This wasn't the fields of torture, where Hades had his minions inflict the worst punishments imaginable. This was Tartarus—the void where the gods cast the creatures they feared too much to torture. Hades didn't add torment to this place—the creatures trapped here did that part.

"I started seeing things, a little while ago." I told Annabeth quietly. "A man… he was talking to someone else, about people dying of shame because they got lost… then he vanished." Annabeth closed her eyes briefly, thinking.

"Percy… hallucinations are something hypothermia can cause." She said cautiously. "If we get off this mountain... it should be warmer. We won't be alone, but it shouldn't be so cold." I rubbed my hands together. "I can walk now, at least, if you're helping." She added. "We should keep going." I stood, shoving the cold pistol into the pocket of my jacket, and offered her a hand. We resumed the path…