Content Warning: Brief mentions of suicide ideation.

End of October

The rest of the ride was silent.

We pulled up to a skyscraper that didn't look very interesting on the outside. There was a large news van parked on the curb, and the merc driving pulled the SUV up in front of it. Then we all got out and they ushered me over toward the side of the van facing the sidewalk.

I should've known it was a cover. Everything I ever encountered with Triumvirate was a ruse or a cover or something else.

The side door slid open and I was gently shoved inside. Hargrave stepped in last, and slid the door closed. Inside was more spacious than I thought it'd be, though one half of the van was concealed from me by black curtains.

"That's not your concern," Hargrave said, as I peered at the curtains. His tone had a sharp edge to it.

I turned my back to the curtains and saw the two other demigods that were to be my questing companions, as Hargrave had put it.

The man had short, wavy dark hair and was dressed in a generic black suit with a white button-down underneath. He towered over the woman next to him. She was East Asian, with long black hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She was wearing the same black suit and white button-down as the man.

Hargrave gestured to the man, "This is Charlie." Then gestured to the woman. "And this is Hayley." He paused as if expecting us to shake hands or exchange greetings. We did not. So Hargrave continued, "Charlie is a son of Meditrina, the Roman goddess of healing or health, longevity, and wine. Hayley is a daughter of Tyche; luck." As if I didn't know that.

Hargrave reached behind Charlie for something.

"Please put this on, Serena." He brandished a garment bag on a hanger. It was long, so I assumed it was a dress. I tried not to make a face. It wasn't necessarily that I didn't like getting dressed up, I just didn't prefer it. Especially if I was going to be fighting. Though, from the sound of it, I wasn't.

Frowning, I took the bag from him. It was also heavy. Ugh.

I glanced around but when Hargrave didn't say anything more, I shifted uncomfortably.

"You want me to change right here?" I asked, uncertainly.

Hargrave seemed amused, which made me want to throw a knife right into the middle of his face. Charlie didn't react, but Hayley snorted and crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. This made me want to throw a knife into her face, as well.

"Is that a problem?" Hargrave asked.

"A little," I said candidly.

Hargrave opened his mouth to speak, but Hayley cut him off: "It's not like we've never seen someone in their underwear. What's the big deal?"

I gripped the hanger, fighting the urge to hug the bag to myself.

"It matters to me," I told her in a hard tone, meeting her glare with my own. "At least turn around."

"Now, Serena," Hargrave began in that aggravating tone he used when he was going to scold me.

"Turn around, or I'm not changing," I said, looking back at Hargrave. He examined me, trying to decide if I was being serious, so I added, "I mean it."

"Very well." Hargrave turned around and gestured for the other two to, as well. Charlie turned without fuss but Hayley made a whole show of throwing her arms down and rolling her eyes again, like a moody teenager.

I waited a moment to make sure they weren't going to peek, before I unzipped the garment bag. All I could tell from it folded up inside the bag was it was a deep red dress.

Holding my breath, I hung it up on a hook near me and began to undress, facing the other three just so I could keep an eye on them. I didn't want any of them trying to sneak a peek. Once I was in my underwear, I carefully pulled the dress out and let out a tiny, tiny sigh of relief that at least they'd given me a dress that covered my neck, shoulders, back, and arms fully. It might not have been quite flattering, but it covered everything I wanted to keep covered.

Now that it was out of the bag, I could tell that it was floor-length, too. I quickly slipped it on. It was snug and it flared out slightly at the knees.

At least it allowed me to attach my throwing knives belt to my calf. That part of the skirt also had a layer of translucent red fabric, which matched the red of the dress. It took me a moment and a little pain, but I managed to zip myself up without asking for help.

"Alright," I said, my voice wavering slightly.

The three of them turned back around. Charlie did a once over, but his expression stayed neutral and I vaguely wondered if anything could rattle him. Hayley's face turned red but she tried to keep her blasé attitude and quickly looked away, glaring at the van wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Hargrave smiled but he was looking right through me. "Take your hair down, too, please."

Biting my tongue on a snappy response, I reached up to take it out of the Dutch braid I had it in. I shook it out, running my fingers through a few times to get any big knots out.

"Good." Hargrave nodded, like a job well done. He turned to Charlie. "I will leave the rest to you." Charlie nodded. Hargrave turned and exited the van. Charlie then revealed I had to put on flats to match my dress—the kind with ribbons that go around your ankles. It was annoying, but at least they weren't heels. Slightly more practical, but not by much.

Charlie checked his watch. "The event is going to start soon. We should get inside."

The first half of the night was, to my surprise, incredibly uneventful. I stood on a stage in a grand ballroom and sang the song list I'd been given by the event planner, taking regular breaks to drink water and use the restroom. They had been expecting me and my "bodyguards," and let us in without any fuss. I barely had to talk, because Charlie was doing all the talking. It made me feel a little useless. Not that I had wanted to help Triumvirate with anything.

I just thought it strange that they'd put me through such intense training and then have my first mission be something where I stood around and sang. Especially when they had gone to so much trouble to make me work for them. Was Hargrave bullshitting when he said I was powerful? Just to…stroke my pride? Were they only interested in my voice? That wasn't too out of left field, honestly, but still. Why train me then?

It wasn't until my scheduled intermission, did things get exciting.

The event planner told me the intermission was so I, and the other musicians, could sit down and eat. I was grateful for that but it only gave me longer to think. It also gave me time to scan the room. As far as I could tell, it was an event for rich people to schmooze. I mostly saw fancily-dressed people conversing and laughing with each other as they nibbled on their food. There were chairs for people to sit, but most of the tables were standing tables.

Not having much luck just scanning, I tried to look for someone who looked nervous. Perhaps that might give me a clue as to what Hargrave was up to. It could've been that, like the "news" van, this mission wasn't at all what it seemed.

After a few moments of looking, I finally spotted someone who looked agitated. A woman in a grey, shimmering evening gown, shifting from foot-to-foot and checking her watch frequently. She remained standing at a single table and I realized, from being on stage, she hadn't moved since the event had begun. I looked down at her feet to see a silver briefcase. Guarding something, then. But what?

Before I could contemplate that, a gun shot rang through the air. Screams followed soon after, and mass panic broke out among the crowd.

Adrenaline shot through my veins and my ADHD kicked in. I noticed three things simultaneously: 1) The woman who was standing next to that silver briefcase, looking skittish, had picked it up and was now walking against the crowd, toward the middle of the room. 2) Hayley began to make her way to the middle of the room as well. 3) When I looked for the source of the gunshot—being a child of Apollo gave me good hearing; specifically, good at pinpointing where sound was coming (or had come) from—I saw someone dressed like one of the waiters, who was stuffing a small gun behind their jacket as they turned and exited with the rest of the scrambling crowd.

There were people who were shouting instructions, and workers at the doors, guiding people out the exits, trying to make sure no one trampled anyone.

I felt a firm hand grasp my arm and looked to my right to see Charlie. Without a word, he began to pull me toward the nearest exit, but I looked back in time to see the woman with the silver briefcase pass by a table. She paused and then resumed, still with a silver briefcase. I found it strange until Hayley got to the table and picked up another silver briefcase, then began heading to an exit in the opposite direction of the other woman.

"Hey, let go," I said, trying to pry my arm from Charlie's grip. He held fast.

"We need to go," was all he said in response.

I looked back at the direction Hayley was going. "But Hayley—"

"Doesn't matter," Charlie interrupted. "She has her orders. I have mine." He finally looked at me. "And you have yours."

I scoffed. "Hardly. Hargrave told me to look pretty and sing."

"You did a fine job, then," Charlie said, with no inflection of his tone, so I couldn't tell if he was making a jab at me.

I looked back at where Hayley was just in time to see her make it to one of the exits, only to be intercepted by two men.

Since I'd been spending so much time around them, I immediately clocked them as mercs. Except, they were Triumvirate's mercs. They were dressed nicer. Hayley tried to turn and run in the other direction, but with the flow of people behind her, it was impossible. They simply pushed her into the waiting arms of the two men, and then all three of them disappeared as more people flowed through the exit.

I turned back to Charlie, jerking him back, causing both of us to stop. The people behind us shoved past us, pushing us closer.

Charlie hadn't let go of my arm.

"Hayley's in trouble!" I exclaimed. I tried to pull him toward the exit she'd used. "We need to go help her!"

"She has her orders," Charlie said. "She's had just as much, if not more, training than you. She'll be fine."

"Let go of me, Charlie," I warned.

He gripped my arm harder, frowning. "Don't be difficult, Serena."

I threw my palm up, hitting the underside of his nose. Charlie grunted and finally released my arm from shock, stumbling back.

"I warned you," I told him when he glared at me, cradling his nose. Then I turned and forced my way through the throng, toward the exit Hayley had gone. I could hear Charlie calling after me, and a brief glance back told me he was trying to follow me, but he was tall and everyone got in his way. I was small and compact, so I was easier able to weave through the people, despite the fact that I was going against the flow.

I didn't pause when I made it to the exit, hurrying my way down the stairs, past all the people as much as I could, and to the ground floor. I had to pause when I got there, though, because everyone was flowing through one exit, but there was another to the right and slightly behind the line. I was sure mercs would use an exit like that, so quickly headed in that direction.

I burst through the door, into an alley, just in time to see a man hop into a white van (smaller than the news van). We locked eyes but he shouted over his shoulder, "Go!" before he pulled the door closed.

I cursed and bent over to grab three of my knives. I tossed two at the back tires, then the third at the one front tire I could reach. The van swerved and screeched as the driver fought to keep from crashing.

I used this time to grab another throwing knife and cut a slit up the side of my dress to mid-thigh, so I could move better. Then slid my belt of knives from my ankle to my thigh for easier access.

My flats weren't comfortable, but they were easier to fight in than heels. Besides, trying to untie the ribbons would waste precious time.

I heard shouting from inside and waited, getting more knives ready. As soon as the door opened and the first man stepped out, I threw my knife at his shoulder. Specifically, the shoulder connected to the arm aiming a gun at me. He screamed and dropped his gun. (A small part of me noted that my blades were Celestial bronze, which could only harm demigods, but I was too focused on the fight to examine that further.) I used that time to rush him, stepping on his foot, and headbutting him when he hunched over in pain. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

Another gun came into view. I grabbed their wrist and pulled them out of the van, throwing them off balance, to the ground. Then turned back toward the van and immediately ducked. A gunshot rang through the air. I straightened up, grabbing a knife on the way, and threw it at his shoulder. I turned back to the guy on the ground and kicked his gun from his hand before he could shoot, then kicked his underneath his chin to knock him out.

I turned again, throwing a knife as I did so, hitting the third man's knee. He dropped but his gun was still in the van. I lunged forward and snatched it up as his fingertips brushed it.

I pointed it at him. He froze and held his hands up. I clocked him with the butt of the gun and he collapsed to the van floor just as I heard footsteps outside. I turned, pointing the gun at, who I assumed, was the driver.

He also held a gun, and there was a line of blood running down the side of his face. We sized each other up; he looked at his fallen comrades. I saw him tense and threw the gun at his head like a boomerang. Simultaneously, he squeezed the trigger of his gun.

I leaned away from where he was pointing, hoping my good aim that came with being a daughter of Apollo would still apply to a weapon not being used as intended. When I straightened up to see the man lying on the ground, prone and unconscious, I let out a small breath. I quickly gathered all the guns, piling them into the floor of the van, then pulled the one unconscious guy out of the van and next to his buddies.

Finally, I was able to turn my attention to inside the van, where Hayley was handcuffed, and the chain of the cuffs hung on some kind of hook drilled to roof. Her feet were just barely scraping the floor of the and I winced in sympathy. A bruise was blooming on her jaw, but I couldn't sense any other injuries.

I stepped into the van, and without really thinking, I wrapped my arm around her waist and gently lifted her off the hook. Her knees buckled a little when her feet hit the floor, and I steadied her, reaching up to take off the gag they'd tied around her mouth. She looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.

I made sure she was able to stand on her own before stepping back and pulling my arm from her waist.

"Here, I'll find the key to the handcuffs," I said, turning and hopping out of the van.

"Th-the guy with the green vest has them," she said, her voice hoarse.

I nodded and went to the man she pointed out and searched his pockets, quickly finding the key. She'd stepped out of the van by this time, so I quickly uncuffed her. She rubbed her wrists and grimaced, then her eyes widened.

"You're bleeding."

"Huh?" I followed her gaze to see a trail of blood down the sleeve of my dress. It was hard to tell, since the dress was also deep red, but that line of blood was even darker than the fabric around it. Now that I was paying attention to it, it stung, but it wasn't any worse than my prickles. I guess a bullet had grazed me.

I shrugged and opened my mouth to respond when I spotted the silver briefcase lying inside the van. Frowning, I stepped back inside and went to it.

"What are you doing?" Hayley asked from behind me.

"This was part of your mission," I said, unlatching it. "I want to see what all the fuss was about and why Hargrave refused to tell me anything about it."

"You're going to get in trouble—" Hayley hissed as I popped the briefcase open.

I paused, in shock at the wads of cash inside. "Why does it matter to you? You clearly don't like me," I muttered, not taking my eyes off the cash.

Something was wrong. I reached in to grab one of the wads and flipped through it. The top bill was a real 20, but the rest were cut up pieces of newspaper.

I threw the wad down and stood, growling in frustration.

"What?" Hayley asked in a quiet voice.

"We were a decoy," I said, thinking of that woman who'd switched the briefcases.

"What? No, I was told—" Hayley broke off.

I turned and exited the van, feeling anger begin to build in my chest. I felt used. And I was annoyed Hargrave had kept me in the dark so me and…I suppose my team, could be used as bait.

I looked down the alley and saw the "news" van waiting for us at the end.

"Guess it's time to find out what exactly this whole mission was about," I said.

We were sat in a large conference room, in the same skyscraper I'd been taken to when I'd first been "recruited." We were sitting near the middle of the conference table, facing the wall the door was on. Charlie was on my left, Hayley on my right. They'd allowed us to drink some nectar, so our wounds were healed, but my prickles were working up a storm.

It was late, I was tired. My adrenaline had worn off, but the longer we sat here, the more antsy I got. I was still in my dress, which was starting to feel constricting and too warm. I wanted to change and take a hot shower, take some pain meds, and then go to sleep. My day had started at 6 in the morning.

Instead, what I got was Hargrave entering with four mercs, two each holding Dan and Anya hostage.

Again.

I stood, indignant and angry, but held my tongue as Hargrave came to stand across from me. He looked somber and disappointed, but I didn't care. The four mercs stood Dan and Anya on either side of Hargrave.

"What's going on?" I asked, my hands curled so tightly into fists, my nails dug painfully into my palms.

"You disobeyed orders," Hargrave said. "You know the consequences for that."

"You used us as bait!" I snapped. "As a decoy." I gestured to Hayley. "She was kidnapped. She could've died. For what? A briefcase full of fake bills?"

Hargrave stared back at me impassively, making my irritation grow worse. "You were supposed to perform, and then let Charlie lead you out of the event."

"You didn't tell me that!" I objected. Not that I would've listened.

Hargrave ignored my objection and instead said, "Because it's your first mission, and you're still learning, I'm giving you a choice." He paused. "Choose who dies: your brother, his fiancée, or Hayley."

"What?" I asked.

"What?" Hayley sat forward. "Sir—"

"Quiet," Hargrave hissed, turning his gaze on her briefly. Charlie remained quiet at my other side. He seemed almost bored.

Hargrave looked back at me. "Choose. Now."

I shifted on my feet, my prickles beginning to roar in time with my blood. My heart began pounding against my ribcage. I looked at Anya, who was quietly crying, a gag over her mouth. Then at Dan, who's eyes blazed. He shook his head ever so slightly—his way of telling me to pick him. I hated him for that. He'd done this during the Second Titan War, too.

For a moment, panic threatened to completely consume me. How could I make a decision that would get anyone killed. How could I tell Hargrave to kill my brother?

That doesn't make sense.

I mentally flinched as a voice that sounded like Luke's echoed through my mind. It stopped all my swirling thoughts in their tracks. In that moment of clarity, I realized that if I chose Anya or Dan, Hargrave would no longer have leverage over me. Either he was trying to get me to choose Hayley, or he was playing another fucking game with me.

Taking a few deep breaths and counting down from ten, I tried to calm my nerves; get my prickles back under control long enough I could think.

I examined Hargrave. He had a good poker face, but I realized with a jolt, he had a tell. When he was trying to keep something from me, he folded his hands. And he stood before me, with his hands folded in front of him.

See, combat wasn't the only thing they'd been training me in while at their facility.

"Do you have an answer for me?" Hargrave asked.

I straightened up. "Yes."

"Who is it?"

"No one," I said.

Hargrave's eyebrows shot up as he asked, "No one?"

I shook my head. "You can't kill Anya or Dan," I explained. "Not without losing me. You kill either of them and all bets are off."

"Well, that explains them, yes—"

"I wasn't finished," I interrupted. "You said it yourself, demigods work best in threes. We're a team, whether we like it or not, and I'm not going to betray my teammates. I have to know they'll have my back when the time comes, like I'll have theirs."

"Either of them are easily replaceable," Hargrave responded easily.

"Not Charlie, because you didn't ask him to be the one to take the briefcase."

"And Hayley?"

"You said it yourself, she's a daughter of Tyche, the goddess of luck."

"So she's a little lucky, so what?" Hargrave shrugged. He kept his hands folded.

"She can change the odds. It doesn't take much to tip the scales in your favor."

Hargrave considered (or pretended to consider) this. Then he unfolded his arms and grinned. "Very good." He waved his hand. "Take them home."

The mercs began to lead Anya and Dan out, releasing them from their tight grips, but kept guns pointed on them. I made eye contact with Dan, silently promising I'd check in on them as soon as I was done here.

"Now you've officially graduated from your training, Victoria," Hargrave said. I frowned at his use of my real name, when he was being so secret before. He continued, "Very well done." He looked at Charlie. "Ellery, I'd like to speak with you." He waved at me and Hayley absentmindedly. "You two are free to leave for the night."

Char—well, Ellery now, I supposed, stood and he followed Hargrave out. When they were out of sight, I let out a big, slow breath and fell back into my seat. I closed my eyes, taking a moment to push away my pin-pricks. What a long night. And only getting longer, as I wanted to check on my brother and Anya.

"Huixing," Hayley said suddenly, breaking the silence. I opened my eyes, blinking. I thought she'd have just left. But when I looked to my right, she was still sitting in her chair, looking sheepish.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Huixing," she said. "That's my real name." She gave me a surprisingly tender smile; a complete 180 from her attitude earlier. "It's nice to meet you, Victoria."

"I…um, please, call me Tori," I said.

Present

The light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be another tunnel. A T-junction to be specific, with torches leading down to the right and darkness leading down to the left.

Now, you'd probably think, Ah yes, head down the part of the tunnel that has light. But I knew from my many years of being a demigod, the dark tunnel was probably 1) less dangerous and/or 2) the one I actually wanted.

With a weary sigh, I pulled a torch from its sconce and began to slowly venture down the tunnel that stretched to the left. I shuffled forward, moving my torch around as I did so, looking for any possible traps. Of course, this being the labyrinth, the trip wires wouldn't all be that noticeable, but I, obviously, couldn't go barreling down a dark tunnel, either.

I wasn't sure how long I was shuffling, but the sound of slithering suddenly hit me and I froze, holding my breath. It reminded me of the time I'd faced lamia during one of the times I'd ventured into the labyrinth. Lamia was a giant snake creature with the body of a woman (who also had fangs?). Percy and his friends had come to my rescue (even though they weren't supposed to).

See, I'd volunteered for…well, it was basically a suicide mission.

During the Second Titan War, I had stolen Ariadne's string from Kronos' army, but we had wanted to try and take out as much of his army as we could when we collapsed the labyrinth. So, I'd volunteered to go back in and lead as much of the army into it as I could, but I'd been on a schedule, or they would collapse the labyrinth regardless. And while I'd been making my way back to Mount Tam, I'd encountered Lamia.

Since camp would've never collapsed the labyrinth with Percy, or any of his friends, inside, I suppose you could say Percy had saved my life in more ways than one.

Anyway, I had to quickly push aside these thoughts as more of the slithering sounded. Except, if my ears weren't deceiving me, it sounded like there were multiple things. I held my torch as far out as I could, but they stayed just beyond where the light hit. It was slow and melodic, making me think it might not be snakes. Worse still, it sounded like whatever it was, was sliding across the walls and ceiling, too.

Having held my breath for too long by this point (my prickles working up a storm because of this), I let myself breathe again, trying to keep my breaths steady. I think my prickles were a lost cause at this point, but thankfully they seemed to be staying at the level they were at currently. For now.

The slithering suddenly stopped. The only noise echoing through the tunnel was my breathing. I didn't want to go toward them. I didn't think whatever was coming toward me was scared of the light. I think it was waiting for me to make a move.

It was picking the lesser of two evils: I could continue to walk forward with my torch and possibly be attacked, a hand down. Or, I could throw my torch as far as I could and try to get a brief glimpse of what I was facing.

I decided on the latter. At least I'd have both hands free. If I could see what I was facing, I could fight it in the dark. I just had to use my hearing, which wasn't hardship. Children of Apollo had great hearing. (Not always, of course, but I'd been practicing on the skill nonetheless.)

Shifting the torch in my hand a little, so I was holding it more like a javelin, I took a deep breath, and as I slowly let it out, I threw the torch. It flew down the tunnel, revealing dark vine-line things on the floor, walls, and ceiling, like I'd expected. They didn't blanket the rest of the tunnel, but there were enough of them, it made my stomach chur. They seemed to stretch all the way down the tunnel.

I had a second longer to take it all in, push away the panic (and pin-pricks) that threatened to overtake me as I remembered Mr. D's grape vines, and see the tiny golden apple sitting in the middle of the vines much further down, before the torch clattered against the ground and spluttered out.

I was plunged into darkness. And the vines leapt at me.

I dove to the side, closing my eyes. (It was already dark, but I needed my brain to know that I wanted it to rely more on my hearing, than sight.) When I was met with a wall of vines, I quickly pulled away, tucked and rolled in the direction the golden apple was, as the vines on the wall flew me.

I unsheathed my sword from my back and slashed at the new onslaught of vines. I felt my sword slice through something solid, with a wet schtick, and then wet thuds as the vines fell to the floor. I immediately tucked and rolled again as more vines came at me. I slashed as I stood. More wet thuds.

I was so preoccupied with trying to move forward, too late, did I hear the sound of slithering behind me. I just barely had enough time to dodge. It was uncoordinated and a little panicked. I stumbled into the wall again, but quickly pushed away. I promptly tripped on some of the vines I'd sliced and cursed.

I swiftly pushed myself to my feet, knowing I didn't want to be on the ground, only to have vines shoot out at me as I stood. With a gasp, I tried to dodge, but felt pain blaze in my left side as they flew past me. I let out a cry, my right knee buckling, but managed to lift my sword and slice through the vines that'd just gotten me.

My sword felt heavy in my hand. My prickles pulsed in time with my now-rapid heartbeat, and throbbing side.

Breathing heavily, I pushed myself to my feet, having to use my sword. I opened my eyes again, wondering why the vines weren't attacking, just as I heard more leap at me. Pushing through the haze of pain as best I could, I sliced at them. There was nothing I could do now—it was either force my way through or die. I let out a battle cry, letting adrenaline fuel me, and raced forward, hacking and slashing at any vines that came at me.

With my eyes open, I could now see the faint glow of the golden apple. And it was getting closer.

I tucked and rolled (my side and pin-pricks protesting vehemently) to dodge some vines that flew at my head. And there! I swiped up the apple and kept running.

I didn't look back and kept running until my body literally gave out and I collapsed. By that time, I'd entered an entirely different tunnel. This one was dry, with roughhewn stone. The wall and floors felt cool against my body when my knees finally buckled. I just barely managed to catch myself on the wall, my sword clattering at my side.

With a pained groan, I turned, sitting down hard and leaning up against the wall. My side burned, on top of my prickles across my body. The only reason I could detect a difference between the two pains was because the pain at my side felt distinctly different than my chronic pain. That, and it was concentrated at my side. Though, I could tell that its reach had grown since I'd first incurred the wound.

My chest heaving, I reached into my jacket pocket with a shaking hand to pull out the extra nectar and ambrosia I always kept on me. It wasn't going to be enough, but it would hopefully relieve some of my pain enough I'd be able to find my last apple.

I drank the nectar, then ate the ambrosia. My prickles quieted for a moment before coming back, not as loud as before.

The wound at my side burned less, but didn't go away completely. Not a good sign.

First, I clumsily grasped for my sword, carefully sheathing it in the scabbard at my back. Then I opened my jacket more and peeked down at my left side. My blood had soaked through the bottom of my torn and tattered turtleneck. Peeling away the tatters revealed that the wound hadn't really healed at all even though I'd taken the food of the gods. It looked like the bleeding had stemmed. But that was it.

Worse still, there were jagged black tendrils stretching out from around where the vines had hit me.

Poison, I thought with a frown. Great. Now I was on a clock. An especially short clock, based on how fast the tendrils had traveled.

With a sigh, I dropped my hands, my vision blurring. A simple act of sheathing my sword and looking at my wound had exhausted me. I vaguely wondered about what those vines were and what the poison could be right before I passed out.

I came back a few moments later (at least, it felt like a few moments to me). I didn't feel any better, but my pin-pricks seemed stable. I would need to do something about my wound if I was going to make it out of here alive.

My heart was beating out of my chest, but with a few quick breaths, followed by groans of pain, I removed my sword from my back, setting it to where I could reach it easily if the need arose. Then I shed my jacket, whimpering as my wound throbbed with every little movement. Finally, my turtleneck. At first, I'd tried to lift it over my head but upon realizing it would be too painful, I took out one of my throwing knives and cut up the side, easily slipping my arm out of one sleeve, then my other arm out of the other.

I used my knife to make an initial cut, then began tearing my turtleneck apart. I discarded the bloody strips, and saved the (relatively) clean ones, which I then wrapped around my wound. I needed to stem the slow trickle of blood coming from it. There was nothing I could do about the poison. That would require more than just the food of the gods.

Once done, I had to take a few moments to get my breathing and pain under control. Then, I shrugged my jacket back on, over my tank top, followed by my sword over my shoulder, and then headed in the direction I believed I'd been heading before I'd collapsed. The two golden apples in my jacket pocket thumped against my leg as I walked.

It was difficult to be discreet when you were breathing heavily. Unfortunately for me, it was difficult to breathe quieter with a throbbing wound in my side. And my prickles were steadily growing. Periodic checking told me that the poison was slowly spreading, the black tendrils fanning out from where I'd been hit.

I was still searching for my third golden apple.

I don't know how much time had passed since my being in the maze, or since I'd been injured. It felt like an eternity.

Once upon a time, I'd had a watch that let me know what time it was in the mortal world while in magical places like the labyrinth or the Underworld (because when I was Mr. D's personal assistant, he'd sent me to the Underworld a lot, and often with a time limit). But when I'd been thrown into Tartarus, I'd left it there, knowing that if I knew what time it was in the mortal world while down there, I would've driven myself mad. I hadn't thought to ask for a new one.

Now I was really wishing I'd had.

I had just come through a tunnel into some kind of underground courtyard. The ceiling opened up and was vaulted high above me. The room was at least as big as the dining pavilion at camp. Everything was grey and dusty. The walls were covered in grime, and the columns were rotting away with age. In the middle of the courtyard was a large fountain. Obviously dry, cracked, and crumbling.

I stepped carefully into the courtyard—wincing as it aggravated my side—just as I heard shuffling coming from a different tunnel, to my left. I froze and held my breath, listening carefully, trying to pinpoint which tunnel, for there were several options.

There! Further down the courtyard, on the opposite side I was on.

Trying to keep my breathing shallow, I limped over to the fountain, ducking behind it—trying to ignore the way my side and prickles protested. I looked out over it at where I thought the sound was coming from. The shuffling grew steadily louder as whatever it was continued forward. I reached up and slowly unsheathed my sword, preparing for a fight, trying not to yelp at the pain it caused me. My prickles protested.

Thankfully, after the weird, sentient vines, I hadn't encountered any more monsters. Some traps, but no monsters. I should've known my luck would run out.

I wasn't exactly sure how fit a state I was in to fight a monster, but I guess I was about to find out. Not that dying really mattered to me anyway.

Finally, the thing emerged from the tunnel. My stomach dropped to my feet and my heart shot into my throat. I tried to stifle the whimper that bubbled up to my lips.

The Minotaur.

I'd faced this beast twice. Once, during the Second Titan War, and once when I'd gone on a rescue mission for a demigod. The first time, I'd lost a half-brother. The second time had been more successful but the demigod I had saved, the son of Hecate I mentioned earlier, as you know, died later.

Needless to say, I did not have fond memories of this particular monster. And I certainly wasn't up to task to face him again.

I wasn't sure what else I was going to do, though.

As I examined him closer, trying to find an angle where I could get away without injury or death, something at his waist caught my eye. I nearly cursed out loud. Of course he would have my final golden apple. Of all the rotten fucking luck.

Don't ask me what I was thinking when I decided to reveal myself to the Minotaur. I kept my sword pointed toward the ground.

As you may have parsed out by now, death was not exactly a scary thing for me.

When the Minotaur spotted me, his nostrils flared and he let out a huff. I instinctively tensed as he started toward me, bracing for impact. My prickles burst in response, but I ignored them.

I knew he could be extremely fast. When he didn't immediately overwhelm me, I allowed myself to relax slightly, taking a closer look at him and realized…he was hurt. If I focused hard enough, I could feel echoes of his wounds—mostly large lacerations across his chest, back, arms, and legs. There were some kind of burn wounds, too.

I found myself actually feeling bad for him. Someone, or something, had wounded him badly and then thrown him back into the maze. Funnily enough, we were kind of in the same position.

When he stood just a few feet away, he let out a big huff and heavily sat down on the edge of the fountain. Either the fountain was so old and decayed or the Minotaur was that heavy, but it cracked a little under his weight. I jumped at the sound, not expecting it, then immediately regretted it when my side and prickles flared up for a moment.

I stood, staring at him, for several seconds before moving to sheath my sword. The Minotaur looked at me and I saw his fur ripple. I held up my other hand in a stop gesture, keeping my eyes locked with his, and then slowly slid my sword back into my scabbard. The Minotaur relaxed, his breathing now sounding heavier.

I didn't really have anything on me by way of salve or bandages, but I did have my voice. It wasn't exactly a healing song, per se, but it was about emotional and mental healing, so I thought it'd still work. I'd found that with my voice, I could make basically anything work.

Moving slowly, still, I sat down next to the Minotaur, angling myself toward him.

I cleared my throat and said, "M-may I?" as I reached up with both hands, palms up in a placating gesture. He grunted but nodded his massive head. Gently, I rested both hands on his arm. I closed my eyes (probably ill-advised), and began to sing the song I had in mind. It was from the musical Next to Normal, "Light." The finale, in fact. It was also technically a group song, but I was able to adapt it a little to make it more fit for one person singing a capella.

For the moment I sang the song, I felt warmth flood through me. My prickles dimmed to almost nothing, my side stopped aching. I could only imagine what the Minotaur might be feeling. But as soon as the last note faded from the room, the energy I had left drained from me. My prickles roared to life and my entire side burned like someone was pouring bleach over my skin.

I bit my tongue on a scream, but a small squeak escaped my throat. I couldn't help the heavy, ragged breaths that gasped through my gritted teeth, either.

I managed to pull my shaking hands away from the Minotaur's arm, just barely able to catch myself on the edge of the fountain we sat on.

It was then I realized my whole body was shaking. It felt like someone had injected liquid nitrogen into my veins. (It reminded me too much of the cold room Luke, me, and two other demigods had encountered when we'd ventured into the labyrinth one time.)

The Minotaur didn't notice. Or didn't care.

He stood to full height, breathing easier now. I looked up at him, barely able to keep my head up, and for a split second, I was afraid he was going to gore me with one of his horns. Being half-animal, he could probably sense how weak I was right now.

Instead, he plucked the golden apple off his belt and held it out for me. I blinked, still wary, but slowly and carefully (mainly because I wasn't sure I would be able to take it from him without collapsing), I reached forward for it. Once I had the apple in my possession, the Minotaur nodded once, turned, and shuffled off into a different tunnel.

I watched him go, my arm going limp. I was just able to drop the final apple into my jacket pocket with the others. I nearly did a faceplant into the fountain edge as my other arm buckled, but locked my arm to keep upright for just a moment longer.

Looking around, I wondered how I was going to get out. I had three apples. That meant I would be able to exit the labyrinth, right?

Too weak to feel panic when a solution didn't immediately present itself, I pushed myself to my feet with a groan that echoed through the room. Just as I was about to head off in a random direction, confident I was going to die here, I heard stone sliding over stone and then a blast of cold, fresh winter air hit me square in the face.

I quickly stumbled forward, to the door right in front of me.

I crashed into the doorframe, scrambling for purchase to keep myself upright, and lifted my head. A few feet in, stone steps led up to a dark night sky, where I could see stars twinkling.

A sob escaped my lips as I pushed my body forward, trying to ignore the roar of my pin-pricks, the way my side burned, and the fact that blackness was encroaching on the edges of my visions. My body screamed at me to sleep, to rest, but I was so close.

My knees gave half-way up the steps, so I began to crawl. And when my body wouldn't let me crawl, I dragged myself up the last few steps.

I tried to muster what very little strength I had left to cry for help, but my vocal cords felt paralyzed. So I continued to pull myself up the stairs, the only sound I was able to make, soft whimpers and cries.

Then my hands hit damp, cold grass. One last surge of energy shot through me and with a shout, I pulled myself the last few inches.

I never thought cold, wet grass would feel or smell so good. But I wept at the feel of the cold air on my face. My prickles didn't like it, but the burning at my side was soothed the tiniest fraction. And as much as I wanted to call for help, I couldn't. I was out of the maze; certainly not out of danger, but that last push had taken everything I had left.

All I could do was lie there in the grass, waiting for unconsciousness to overtake me, and hope someone found me before the poison killed me.

I remember darkness. Then the whispers began. I was standing in a black void, surrounded by whispers that sounded a lot like prayers. Like usual, I heard my name and "Castellan" said a lot. Sometimes, the whispers didn't feel like prayers, though. Sometimes, it sounded like I was eavesdropping on someone's private conversation.

Without much to do or knowledge of where I was, I began to walk what I considered forward. My body felt oddly pain-free. Not even my chronic pain was making an appearance, which it often did, even in my dreams.

The whispers didn't change in volume, nor did they become clearer. But as I continued to walk, something appeared out of the gloom. It looked like a door.

I realized, as I walked toward it, that there was light bleeding through the cracks around it. Nothing special, not golden or orange—just grey light, something different than the darkness that surrounded me.

I don't know how long I walked, but at some point, I blinked and suddenly I was standing in front of the door. It didn't look like anything special. Just a generic front door to a house or apartment. The light still looked distinctly grey.

When I touched the handle, the whispers ceased. I jumped and turned, looking around, but saw nothing but the same black void I'd been walking through. Strangely, any fear or panic I might've felt from this didn't come. And it wasn't so much that something was numbing my emotions, it was more like they were completely absent.

I turned back to the door, wondering what was behind it.

As I was turning the handle, a voice shot through the dark like one of my throwing knives, with clarity that hurt my ears after the mumbled whispers and utter silence.

"Oh, no you don't," they said.

I felt a cold, bony hand grasp my free wrist, but when I turned out of instinct, no one was there.

Suddenly, I was yanked away from the door.

All at once, the flames of pain engulfed me.

I screamed.

I jackknifed and gasped like I was coming up for air after being held underwater for too long. Every nerve-ending in my body flared to life, my prickles igniting my body in Greek fire. The agony pulled my mind back to the night my mom had been killed, and I had been maimed.

All the memories of grief and loss, and the aftermath came flooding back to me all at once. Including when I'd been strapped down to a bed in the mental ward of the hospital because they were afraid I was going to hurt myself.

So when someone gripped my wrist, all I saw was an orderly trying to hold me down long enough to cuff my arm, and instinctively pulled away. I think I may have cried out something about letting me go, but I was still too lost in pain and the past to tell if I was forming coherent words.

I felt gentle pressure on either side of my head that I thought might be more hands, and reached up to pull them away from me, despite my body screaming in protest. But when my hands locked around wrists, a voice broke through the crashing waves of pain, stopping me in my tracks.

"Little Finch," they said softly. "Little Finch, it's okay. I'm right here. You're okay, Little Finch. You're okay."

The flashbacks slowly faded, as they spoke more; called me a nickname that I hadn't heard in so long. A nickname that brought forth warm memories of my mom tucking me in for bed, singing me to sleep after a nightmare, dancing with me in the rain, congratulating me for performing in the talent show.

I whimpered as the pain slowly subsided—nowhere near completely, but enough that I didn't feel like I was burning alive, at least. My gasps became less pained and more ragged as my heart slowed slightly. I let my hands slide from the wrists I gripped and felt my body go limp.

Someone caught me and laid me down gently.

I tried to blink away the blurriness of my vision, turning my head to my right and seeing Will.

I reached for him, trying to say his name. I'm not sure I succeeded, but he blinked as if coming out of trance and took my hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

"I've got you," he said before looking up at someone out of my line of sight and began giving orders.

It was a blur after that. I remember a lot of commotion, talking, sometimes yelling, and then being loaded onto a stretcher and carried to the Apollo cabin's infirmary. But when they began to treat me, I blacked out from pain and exhaustion.

*sigh* same shit as always. Long weeks etc. etc. but hopefully didn't affect this chapter too much. I think I've been sitting on it for too long, so it's starting to feel bad :P I just hope it doesn't read bad yknow?

Regardless, hope you enjoyed! comments are appreciated!

Thanks for reading,
TheBrightestNight