"She's still shaking," Connor whispers to him.

"I know," Lee eyes the daughter of Hecate, chatting off Bianca's ear. They're in the desert and yet the girl's arms shake as if it's still the dead of winter. "I think that whatever my dad did, it sped up the healing process but…"

"But what?"

"There's always a side effect." It was unavoidable with medicine. They might not always be felt, but they were there. Who knew what the side effects of a divine draft were? Their food and drink could burn up demigods. What about their medicine?

"He's a god." Connor insists.

"Gods aren't perfect," Lee sighs. Maybe his father was just out of it from being locked up. Or perhaps he simply did the bare minimum. "If they were—"

"Then we wouldn't be doing this," Travis finishes his sentence.

"Chasing a bio-weapon," Lee rolls his eyes. Stupid fucking arrow. "And if we can't find them…" He doesn't finish. They saw those craters. Camp would be wiped off the face of the earth.

There wouldn't even be bodies to bury.

"Don't you have like some cure or treatment for her though?" Connor asks.

"I honestly don't know if there is anything I can do."

There were too many complications. Burn wounds. Healing potions. Both of which were magical in nature. The latter of which was enhanced by a god. And there was the real nail in the coffin: Lee.

"Besides, I'm the last person who should be mixing medicine," the son of Apollo admits. Poison and disease. He never meant to tamper with them. They just always went bad. No matter how careful he was. They were always contaminated. "It's safer that way. I can do first aid, administer the proper dosages of nectar and ambrosia, but even if I had the materials… anything I create would just make it worse."

Lee loathed this aspect of Apollo. His inheritance was misery and suffering. Even the best of his intentions was so easily twisted.

He couldn't escape the poison the tainted the blood in his veins.

"So, what can we do?" Travis wipes the sweat off his brow.

"I pray to my father," Lee looks to the sky. "Then we get her back to Camp, safely. And without further injuries."

The sun beats down on them, unforgiving. Another side of his father. The brutal solar radiation that deteriorates and rots all that it touches. But at the same time, brilliant and necessary for life.

A golden contradiction.

Why do you have to be so complicated?

How much did Lee really know about his father?

What was he apologizing for?

Lee could tell it was genuine.

But it wasn't for being captured. It wasn't for letting an ice age wreak havoc on the world. It was for something else entirely.

The god's eyes could peer into the unknown.

That which has yet to pass.

So, what did his father see?

"I can see you're still asking for an ass kicking!" Thalia shouts.

Lee's head whips over to where the daughter of Zeus and the son of Poseidon were. Both are still in the custody of Eris. Unsurprisingly, the goddess of discord did not seem to mind at all.

"Try me!"

"Percy," Bianca tugs at his arm. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Yes, it is!"

"Bubbles," Lou Ellen chastises him like he's a puppy. "It's over cookies."

"The food coloring makes them taste better!"

"No, it doesn't, dumbass!" Thalia's eyes sparked. "Just because you like the color doesn't mean it's automatically good!"

"Everything I've eaten that's been blue has been good!"

"You only eat blue food!"

"I know! That's why I eat them! They taste better!"

Lee looks at their best fighters and sighs.

"Guys, what the hell are you doing? We have enough trouble with—"

"Fuck off, Fletcher!"

"Not now, Lee!"

Eris laughs, a carefree and delighted melody. "I'm glad you're having fun, Kiddo."

Thalia loses the sparks and just looks away, conflicted "Whatever, just keep being an idiot, Kelp Head."

Lee narrows his eyes.

The goddess of discord was awfully fond of the daughter of Zeus.

"How did the two of you meet?" He looks at the injuries on Thalia. Even under the bandaging, the son of Apollo can tell what's wrong. Partially healed ribs. Bruising over the stomach. A fractured collarbone, almost like someone drilled through it. A long cut with frayed stitching, caused by a knife. Most of them were non-lethal.

Just meant to cause pain.

Or even to bring them right to the brink of oblivion and then yank them back.

They weren't inflicted by a monster.

Not one that turns to dust at least.

Lee was good at reading people. From how they spoke to how they moved. He could pick out what their tics and tells were given a simple conversation. Lies were almost given away unconsciously, just little things people did without realizing it.

But a goddess?

An entirely different beast.

Eris fixes her crimson gaze onto him, "I ran into her while trying to help out Hermes."

Her smile is warm, and it reaches her eyes.

"She was hurt pretty bad."

Lee didn't need to be told that, he's almost certain the culprit is in front of him.

"I'm really glad I found her, she's like the daughter I've always wanted."

Not even a hint of deceit.

Her eyes sparkled, almost as if asking, 'Anything else you want to know?'

Eris could probably tell him the sky was pink and he wouldn't be able to find a tell. Eris had none to pick apart. But maybe Eris never had a need for lies. The truth could be far more dangerous, far easier to abuse than a lie which can be unwoven. It was harder to deny reality, because then you would have to lie to yourself.

No defensiveness.

Completely at ease.

Always in control of the conversation, even without speaking.

Her body language did it for her.

Hermes trusted her, but Lee did not.

Too honest. Too personable. Too mercurial.

"Anything to add, Thalia?" Eris nuzzles against the daughter of Zeus.

"No," Thalia is still. Meek. Lee has never seen her act like this before. Ever since she was freed, she's been headstrong. Stubborn. A storm waiting to be unleashed. "At least you haven't lied to me yet."

Her eyes give her way. Stormy blue, like thunderheads rolling over a once clear sky. She wants to say something but she's unsure of how she actually feels about it.

"I never will, Kiddo," the goddess promises. She's affectionate with how much contact she gives. Eris presents herself as a stable presence despite her turbulent nature.

His dad held him like that.

A brief but warm hug.

Something only a parent was capable of.

Lee wonders if she was secretly the goddess of acting.

They've been running into too many gods. Each of them interfering in some way or form. Hermes playing the role of a patron. Kymopoleia taking Percy as a hostage and then kidnapping Lee (for absolutely no good reason). Apollo has made things worse whether intentional or not. The Moirai are spying on them through their moths. And now Eris is 'chaperoning' them to some isolated building in the middle of the desert.

Honestly, it was a shit show.

But Lee has a responsibility to the other five demigods that accompany him: keep them alive at any cost and make sure they make it back home.

Even if it meant that Lee didn't come with them.

So, if Eris is the key to that then Lee will play ball with as many gods as it takes.

Scarlet shards catch his eyes, and Eris frowns.

It's a foreign expression, one he has yet to see so far.

They flicker to gold.

"Hey, Stardust," Eris slinks off of Thalia and advances towards him. Her wings catch a breeze and unfurl, the night sky glitters in her feathers as she takes flight. She closes the gap so fast that a mortal eye can't follow.

She's simply gone for a split second and in front of him in the same span of time.

The goddess leans in close, a warning in crimson, "I cannot tolerate an existence such as yours."

Lee's breath catches in his throat.

"What use is a life that is so freely given away?"

Her words are quieter than silence but louder than crashing thunder.

"Heroics will only break their hearts."

A bead of sweat runs cold down his neck.

"Do you yearn for the release of death or merely desire for yours to matter?"

Travis shifts in the corner of Lee's eye, his arms reaching for something, but the son of Hermes moves at a snail's pace.

"What are you trying to prove?"

Connor's head turns and alarm slowly paints itself across his features.

"That your name will be remembered?"

Percy flicks the cap off his pen, the sheath almost seems to be suspended in air.

"Death claims all, son of Apollo."

Lou Ellen's emerald green eyes alight as her lips form a silent unreachable spell.

"Even the memory of someone named Lee Fletcher."

Bianca draws back her bow in gradual increments of eternity.

"You will die having never truly lived."

Lee's heart completes its first beat, and the world moves in tandem with it. His friends rush to his side, uninhibited by an everlasting second.

They didn't hesitate to act.

He wants to move his body but something unfathomable roots him in statuesque stillness. A deep unknowable sadness in the pits of his soul. Lee feels as if a part of him was torn out and exposed for all to see.

"Take care of yourself," Eris says, concern filling the shades of murder within her eyes. "Or you'll prove my sisters right."

Travis' pistol presses against the side of the goddess' head.

"Step away, now."

There is no humor, no playful banter in the son of Hermes' voice.

"Knock it off, Stoll!" Thalia has a wild look in her eyes. Like a cornered beast. "You don't know what she can—"

Eris chuckles, an easygoing, lighthearted sound.

"It's alright, Thalia. Just a misunderstanding."

She snakes her arm under Travis' and brings it up, wrapping around his neck like boa constrictor. She has him disarmed and in a noogie with a killer's grace. His pistol was now held by her free hand.

"You're just like your dad," Eris affectionately rubs Travis' head with the barrel of his own gun. Her finger caresses the trigger. "A good friend for those in need."

"Let go!" the son of Hermes squirms in her clutches.

Wisps of magic float from Lou Ellen's fingers like ghosts.

Bianca's arrow shakes on the bowstring, but Lee can tell it'll fly true.

Connor's eyes calculate a dozen ways to free his brother.

Riptide glints, ready to add gold to its stains.

"Your selflessness will be your ruin," Eris looks at Lee, displeasure and annoyance mar her beauty. "Hold onto the time that you have. Or it'll run out faster than you think."

The goddess releases Travis and simply turns around. She drops the firearm onto the sand. And strolls past Percy and Connor.

The demigods eye each other before reaching an understanding: better to avoid a fight with her.

"What's the point of being mortal if you don't make every second count?" Eris shakes her head as if she were surrounded by fools. "Learn to live, Stardust. Vive ut vivas."

Live for the sake of living.

Lee mulls over the words and looks at the five people the Fates have bound him to.

Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon. Reckless. Clever. Dangerous. Simultaneously predictable and incomprehensible. He'll do anything for his friends, that was certain. You just never knew what he'd do for them. As lucid as the sea.

Travis Stoll, son of Hermes. Surprisingly loyal. Surprisingly dependable. Surprisingly well meaning. Travis has surprised Lee time and time again. He will escape the shadow of Luke's legacy.

Connor Stoll, the second son. He is his own person. He shows his heart more easily and thinks of others more than himself. His hands are clean and gods willing, they will remain so. Even though he's always thought of alongside Travis, Lee thinks that the younger Stoll will leave a mark on the world that is solely his.

Lou Ellen Blackstone, daughter of Hecate. The sole remaining child of the goddess of magic that resides within Camp. Emotional. Affectionate. Childish. She bounces from high to low like a seesaw. She finds an inch of joy and stretches it for miles. It's what makes her unbreakable and the best of them.

Bianca di Angelo, the unclaimed child. Inexperienced. Insecure. Indeterminate. She's easily overwhelmed, dropped into an unfamiliar world with just ADHD and dyslexia to compensate. It's unfair that she has to go through it. But she's one of them now and has stuck by their side despite it all. That meant she was worth saving no matter what.

Lee Fletcher would give his life up for any one of them without a second thought.

What use is life if you don't use it for those that matter?

"Enjoy it. One way or another, your days are numbered."

They fall back, walking by his side. The goddess marches ahead, only Thalia is at the front with her. They won't stop looking at him.

Lee instead stares at the box-like building that was slowly getting larger.

Their gazes burn harsher than the sun.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lou Ellen breaks the stalemate.

Lee's blue eyes drift to her emerald shards.

The girl forms attachments easily. She's already reserved a corner of her heart for the five of them. There's a void there that she's trying desperately to fill.

"I don't think she likes me very much," he deflects. It's the truth. The goddess hated him, or at least whatever she saw when her eyes peered into his soul.

"Are you okay?" Bianca speaks softly.

Her eyes settled on his injuries. She's worrying for nothing. The pain was bearable, no need for concern.

"I'm fine, she didn't even touch me."

"No," Percy corrects. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Connor plays with a drachma, "You can trust us."

"I do," Lee doesn't hesitate to say it.

They settle into another morose silence. Just the five of them giving him concerned glances. He takes it in stride.

There was no need for doubt.

Doubt was lethal.

Hesitation was fatal.

Some lives were worth more than others.

Worth more than his.

"Hey," Travis puts an arm around Lee's shoulder. "We're going to celebrate when we get back, right?"

"Of course."

"So, swear to me that we'll all make it back."

"I swear, Travis, we'll be fine."

"On the Styx," he insists.

Do it or die. Brand an oath onto your soul. Show that you mean it with your life.

Too easy to circumvent if the person does not fear death.

He didn't plan on dying. But if it came down to it… he wouldn't pick himself. Chiron made him the leader. This quest was given to him. He's brought the five of them into this mess and he won't drag them down with him if the worst comes to pass.

Lee looks him in the eyes and lets the oath complete without a pause, "On the Styx."

Lighting falls from the clear sky, spraying sand into the air.

Eris watches from the corner of her eye, just barely keeping them in her peripherals.

The Styx can have him.

So long as the others were safe.

That was his obligation to them.

"I swear on the river Styx that we'll all make it back to Camp," Travis announces.

Lightning strikes a second time.

Lee stops in his tracks.

Travis wears his signature lopsided grin. He just played the son of Apollo for a fool. He's woven their lives together in one fell swoop.

"C'mon, we've got to stop them before we can keep that promise."


It was an almost featureless cube of sandstone.

If it weren't for the perfectly smooth and uniform polished surface, Percy would've thought it was some rock that a god forgot to finish shaping. But there was a single wooden door in the very center of the structure. Implying that it was currently in use.

But considering that it was in the middle of nowhere, well, Percy had his doubts.

They wait on the goddess of the discord to make a move.

Eris has been in a surprisingly good mood since that… debacle with Lee.

It wasn't nearly as cushy for the rest of them.

Percy doesn't know if the goddess is simply unhinged or is actually well intentioned. She moves and acts unprovoked, initiating interactions without warning. There was a savage glint in her eyes when she took that first step.

Lee's life was in danger.

Percy was certain of it.

They all were.

And then she had Travis at gunpoint just as quickly.

But just as swiftly as she moved, the goddess dropped it.

All killing intent gone as she finished saying her piece.

He's noticed that Lee has some… problematic behavior. For an archer, he's surprisingly always within arm's reach. Lee tackled Percy out of the way of a giant's fist. The son of Apollo put himself between them and the hydra. And he shot explosive arrows from melee range into the drakon's mouth.

Maybe Lee was just careless.

Percy couldn't exactly complain.

He's done some pretty stupid things himself.

But what Eris suggested…

'Learn to live, Stardust.'

Lee is almost too vigilant. Too ready and willing to put himself in danger for another person. Out of all of them, Lee's been injured the most. He started the quest on death's door, sick and exhausted. He's drained himself neutralizing poison mist. And he's nearly killed himself warding off the drakon. It isn't… sustainable.

The wounds are taking a toll on him.

He's going either going to burn up or burn out.

And Percy won't let either happen.

Even if he didn't fully trust the goddess. She doesn't seem to want them dead. It could honestly be worse, but so far, she's only given unsolicited advice and hugs. Stopping just short of actual violence. And despite his initial thoughts, she… what the fuck is she doing?

Eris raises her boot and kicks the door down. The wood splits down the middle as the two pieces fold inwards. The sound echoes inside the cube as the planks clatter onto stone.

"Oh, that's it!" someone shouts from inside.

There is a hurried stomping up what sounds like a staircase as the voice's owner shouts.

"How many times must I do this!" a bespectacled woman huffs as she walks out the doorway. She's pretty in a refined way. With her long brown hair in a bun and the modest grey dress, she reminds Percy of a librarian. "We are not open to the general public! Make a reservation online if you wish to peruse our collection!"

"Sup," Eris grins.

There's a twitch in the woman's hazel eye as she looks at the goddess of discord with something between revulsion and hatred.

"Eris," she hisses out.

"That's me."

"What ills have you come to visit upon me this time?"

"Nothing of the sort," Eris steps to the side. "Just taking the kids on a field trip."

The woman adjusts her glasses and sniffs, "The Library of Alexandria is not open to demigods. Nor for an arsonist such as yourself."

"I'm sure we can work something out," Eris slips past the doorframe. "We wouldn't want a repeat of last time, would we?"

There's a guttural animalistic growl that comes from the woman. Her fist tightens. The woman removes her glasses and hangs them from a pocket on her dress.

"I will erase your name from history."

"Please try."

There's an uneasy tension as the two remain at an impasse.

Eris leans against some railing within the building. The grin was still plastered on her face as she looked down her nose at the other woman. She's relaxed but her eyes are practically begging for them to attack. There is an insanity swirling within the scarlet, something that exists only to make others hurt.

The librarian unclenches their fist. A quill appears in her hand. A book soars from within the building and out into her open palm, the pages flipping by themselves as they settled onto a blank page. She scribbles something onto the parchment and snaps the tome shut.

"Very well, daughter of Nyx," the woman relents. "We will avoid the needless acts of barbarism you are so inclined towards. Gather your newest playthings before I reverse my decision."

Percy releases a breath he didn't remember holding as the librarian walks back into the building.

"Well?" Eris' eyes glowed in the dim lighting. "Are you ready for answers?" She looks at Thalia and smiles. Then she catches Bianca eyes and winks.

Percy moves automatically, he grabs Bianca's hand and takes the first step. He moves past Eris, not giving the goddess another glance.

Bianca trails behind him, wordlessly. The shuffling of shoes follows him inside. Nothing is exchanged between them and Eris, thank the gods.

What is she playing at?

First Thalia, then Lee, and now Bianca.

Whatever it was, Percy wasn't going to let her toy with them.

Percy finds a staircase and he follows it down, trying to ignore the crimson gaze that lurks just behind them.

It spirals downwards for an uncountable number of steps. Only Lou Ellen's torch illuminates the next few steps in front of him. It goes on and on, seemingly without end.

The air smells of old books and leather. There is a faint tinge of candle wax and… is that coffee?

The stairs open out into an entrance way.

A receptionist desk sits neatly and squarely settled between massive stacks of books and scrolls. Bookcases fill every inch of the room with candlelit hallways opening at set intervals along the walls. The woman from earlier pours herself a cup of coffee from a very expensive looking machine.

She takes a long sip of her drink before releasing a sigh.

The woman turns towards them.

"Welcome to the true Library of Alexandria. I am its archivist. Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory. Now, state the purpose for your visit."

Lou Ellen makes a squeaking noise.

"Is something the matter?" The goddess takes another sip as she peers over at the girl.

Percy eyes his companion, she's almost hiding behind Connor.

"You're not…" Lou Ellen says, her emerald eyes take nervous glances at Mnemosyne. "You aren't one of them. You're not a goddess."

"It is a title," the woman raises an eyebrow. "Much like how you've adopted the title of demigod. But if you wish to adhere to true naming conventions, kinswoman, then I will accommodate you."

She sets her coffee cup onto the desk.

Her hands cross behind her back.

"I am Mnemosyne, the Titaness of Memory. The creator of language and the elder sister of Kronos."

A chill runs up Percy's spine.

He turns to the goddess of discord.

"Why did you bring us here?"

Eris' red eyes sparkle.

She says nothing and simply smiles.

"Be at ease," the Titaness holds up a hand. "If you truly believe all Titans to be aligned with my brother, then you must also treat your allies with the very same suspicion."

Lou Ellen slides further behind Connor, an eye barely peeking out between her black hair.

"There is no one I despise more than my brother," Mnemosyne says.

"What?" Thalia furrows her eyebrows.

Percy is equally confused.

"What is Kronos?" the Titaness asks. "Not who, but what?"

It's a question that hangs in the air.

Bianca shifts nervously behind him.

Travis and Connor stand beside Lee.

Lou Ellen continues to cower behind them.

Percy and Thalia are the vanguard.

And Eris' shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

It remains unanswered.

"He is the forward movement of time," Mnemosyne explains. The Titaness' face is partially covered in shadows. "Erosion. He is the decay of all things. The ever ongoing march of destruction. The spiral of eradication. Where even memory fades away in the end. I am remembrance, the preservation of the past. He is my opposite and I loathe him."

The goddess of memory stands still, arms still behind her back as she awaits their response.

It isn't the demigods who speak first.

"I think they'll be fine without me. Where do you keep the comics?"

Eris' wings send dust into the air as they spread.

Mnemosyne's eye twitches. "Eighth floor, section omega. You will not cause another fire."

"I won't," the goddess waves her hand dismissively and flies off into an unknown part of the library.

They're left alone with a Titaness in her own domain.

"Now I ask again," Mnemosyne picks up her coffee cup and takes another sip. "What is the purpose of your visit. I am unable to assist with the information you desire if you elect not to inform me of the source of your inquiry."

Percy goes to open his mouth, but he's beaten to the punch.

"I'm looking for someone," Thalia takes a step forward.

What? Percy frowns. She's already saved Annabeth. Who could she possible—

"Very well," Mnemosyne writes something down within her tome. "Then I will require two things from you."

"What do you want?"

"Their name and a memory."

Thalia narrows her eyes, her hand rests on the pommel of black knife she now carries, "What do you need a memory for?"

"This is an exchange, Thalia Grace," the goddess says. "If you wish to obtain knowledge, then so too must you be willing to give it up. I will not take it from you, it is yours and yours alone, but you must share in order to receive the answers you desire."

"Any memory?"

"One which drives you forwards. The past is the architect of the present and designs the future. Only something which is truly a part of who you are will suffice."

The only sound is Thalia breathing.

A storm brews in her eyes.

She drums her fingers against the golden pommel of her dagger.

"Take it then."

"Very well, name the individual and focus on the memory."

"Jason Grace."

Pages fly through the air like sparrows. Ink falls like rain in the space between them and Mnemosyne. Quills animate themselves and float in formation.

A wall of parchment forms as the supplies prepare themselves. They write, weave, and bring the images to life, frame by frame. On the screen of paper, the memory is displayed like a movie on film.

It starts as a happy moment.

A mother, daughter, and son on a picnic blanket.

The mother happens to forget the basket in the car.

Her brother is missing when the little girl comes back.

Percy is sickened at the sight that unfolds before him.

Of the woman striking her child.

Of the mother beating her daughter.

Of his friend being hurt over and over by someone who was supposed to love her.

Electricity sings as Thalia fights back.

A glass bottle breaks over her head and she falls to the ground.

Thalia takes deep breaths. Her hands are clenched tight, and her nails draw blood. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.

"That happened to you?" Percy whispers.

"Your mom is so cool, Percy," Thalia says. The exact same words she said after his mother dropped them off at Westover. "You're so lucky." A tear traces its way down her cheek. Then another falls. And many more follow as Thalia just continues to take deep breaths.

"I-I'm sorry," he feels like she's shoved a knife through his chest. He must've looked like such an ass sending his mom off like that without a goodbye. And then he asked Thalia about her own mom. No wonder she had been so pissed at him. "I didn't… I wouldn't have if I-"

"Shut up, Kelp Head."

He does.

Percy lets Thalia be as the pages of her memory collect themselves into a neat stack. A leather case flaps over and aligns itself with them. A needle and thread deftly bind the parchment into a book.

It flies off into a nearby shelf.

"Thalia Grace," Mnemosyne approaches. "Daughter of Zeus. My brother treated his children much the same as your mother did you. There is no greater sin than inflicting pain upon one's family."

The librarian holds out a weathered scroll with a red silk knot around the center.

"You bear my daughter's name," Mnemosyne says. "I hope your days are filled with laughter. May you find the solace that you seek."

Thalia takes the scroll and just continues to take deep breaths.

The Titaness of memory refills her cup.

The drips of coffee fall like a metronome as she prepares another page in her book.

"Now, what is it that the rest of you need?"

"How do we navigate the Labyrinth?" Lee speaks first.

"Trivial," Mnemosyne scoffs.

"Does that mean we get it for free?" Connor's eyes perk up.

"No, but I will take something else instead."

A set of five scrolls appear in front of her and straighten themselves out.

On each of them was a wanted poster.

A picture of Lee, Lou Ellen, Travis, Connor and Bianca were each displayed on one of the five posters.

Wanted dead or alive (preferably dead).

Transgressions:

Assaulting Amazon Staff.

Resisting Arrest.

Releasing Invasive Hydra Species.

Detonating Greek Fire Within Enclosed Spaces.

Destruction of Private Property.

Stealing Purchased Merchandise.

Rewards will be paid out in a lifetime subscription to Amazon Prime. Additionally, whoever captures or kills (preferably kills) the culprits may either keep or trade in the stolen Bow of Heracles (Limited Edition, lightly used) and LEGO Titanic set.

"Wait, that's it?" Connor looks over the poster again. "We're only worth an Amazon Prime subscription?"

"Really?" Lee rubs his temple. "That's what you're focusing on?"

"Hell yeah I am!"

"The bow was selling for fifty dollars," Mnemosyne chimes in.

"U.S. or Canadian?" Travis asks.

"Canadian."

"That's even worse!"

Percy uncaps Riptide.

"So, is this the part where you try to kill us, and we fight our way out?"

The Titaness frowns, "No, what could possibly lead you to that assumption, demigod?"

"You did pull the wanted posters out on us," Bianca mutters.

"Wait," Lee holds up his hands up in timeout. "They sold the bow of Heracles for fifty bucks? That's a priceless artifact."

"Incorrect. Describing an item as priceless implies that there is no amount of money which matches its potential value. Whereas the bow of Heracles has a set value, which is fifty dollars."

"It killed Chiron!"

"I would like it back."

"What?" Connor looks away from his wanted poster and back to Mnemosyne.

"I am the purchaser of the bow of Heracles, which has a retail value of—"

"We know how much it's worth, thank you very much!" Travis cuts her off. "You bought it?"

"Yes," the coffee addict blinks. She pulls out a smartphone and flicks the screen a few times. "I hope this will suffice."

The son of Hermes takes a while to read the screen. Small print and dyslexia will do that to a person. Percy can only nod in solidarity.

"Huh. So, it would appear you did."

"Indeed, I would be willing to part with the knowledge you require if you return what I am legally entitled to.

Lee frowns, "What are you planning to do with it?"

Mnemosyne snaps her fingers.

A bookcase opens up and a glass display cabinet wheels itself in.

There's dozens of swords, bows, daggers, spears, and shields within it. Each one is equally worn by the ages and battle. But unmistakably Celestial bronze in construction.

"What I do best, son of Apollo," the goddess of memory says. "I collect knowledge, keep the past intact so that others may grow and thrive. Even a weapon can be a tool of knowledge. Each cut is a stroke, a tale written in blood. That too is worth preserving."

Percy watches as Lee gazes into the goddess' eyes.

A minute passes without sound.

Riptide is agitated in his hands by two.

Percy starts sweating at three.

"Okay," Lee says. "I believe you." He unslings his backpack and pulls the black and gold bow from its magical compartment. "Do you want the quiver as well?"

"No, hydra venom is not compatible with archival efforts," Mnemosyne smiles as she takes the bow. "Though I appreciate your honesty, demigod."

She fiddles with a labeler on her desk and attaches a tag to the bow. It floats to the cabinet and finds a home amongst the weapons of the fallen. A crypt for the tales of heroes from an age long since passed.

The goddess reaches out her arm and points towards Lou Ellen, still peeking out from behind Connor.

"What?"

"You have uncovered the secret of the Labyrinth, correct?"

The daughter of Hecate disappears completely behind the son of Hermes.

"Magic," the response is muttered. "It's a living spell."

"You are bright," the goddess praises. "Even your brother could not see the truth."

A green eye reemerges.

"You've met Alabaster?"

"My brother's forces seek many potential allies. From neutral parties in the previous Titanomachy to those that aided the Olympians originally. Olympus has shattered much of the goodwill they've had with other immortals. But not all of us have forgotten the cruelties he is capable of."

"H-how was he?"

"A young man with a misguided sense of justice," she fills her cup again. "But what can you expect when so many are blind to what he sees?"

Travis narrows his eyes, "What do you mean by that?"

"If a person suffers in front of you, what do you do?"

"You help them—"

"So why did you not?" Mnemosyne snaps.

"We did—"

"Did nothing of value," she shuts him down. "Those who offer words when action is needed solve nothing. It is easy to blame the Titans. To say that they've swayed your friends. But look at yourselves."

She steps towards the son of Hermes and jabs a finger at his chest.

"The Olympians watch as their children are slaughtered like cattle. Those that survive, live enclosed, within a gilded cage under their protection. You are alive because they need instruments of their will."

Percy's hand tightens around Riptide.

"They will betray one another over matters of pride. Destroy innocents if it so conveniences them. If history is written by the victors… who's to say that gods did not rewrite the truth? It does not take mental brilliance to speculate on what is reality."

"Kronos ate his children," Percy glares at the Titaness.

"And what happened to Athena's mother?" Mnemosyne turns to him. "What happened to Metis? What happened to my niece?"

His mouth is dry. He knows the story. He learned it from Chiron's classes.

"Zeus… ate her while she was pregnant with Athena."

"Indeed, son of Poseidon. He devoured her because the Fates decreed that her child would one day overthrow him."

He wants to vomit.

"The apple does not fall far from the tree. You would be blind to not see the similarities. The throne is a trap, one that fills the mind with suspicion towards all things. Even family."

He's being lectured and he can't refute any of her statements.

"You believe them to be misguided. No, they are weary and tired. They desire change. Their supposed allies talk righteously while their kin are eaten. And while they are trampled underfoot, you are praised as heroes for wagging your tail, for appeasing your divine masters."

Mnemosyne turns around.

"But do not misunderstand me," she tucks her book away. "My family must not rise again. The Olympians will rule, not because they deserve to, but because they are the most powerful. They will have allies but never their loyalty nor love. Their rule is through fear."

She scribbles something down on an index card.

"Errare humanum est," she says. "But gods are not human. Forgiveness requires effort, something foreign for most of Olympus. It is a human invention, something only they can give."

The card flies towards Lou Ellen.

"Best of luck, daughter of magic," Mnemosyne gives her a sad smile. "The past will always catch up with you. Be ready when you next meet them."

Lou Ellen catches it between her shaking fingers. The words glow in an incomprehensible language to Percy. But her eyes light up in recognition.

The goddess of memory brings her coffee cup up for another sip. Her eyes never leave them. She hasn't told them to go, nor does she move from her spot. She's waiting for something.

Percy follows her line of sight.

She's looking slightly behind him.

At Bianca.


Bianca can feel the woman's gaze on her.

But she keeps staring at the floor.

There's a really interesting tile. It's made of sandstone. Definitely worthy of her complete and undivided attention. She doesn't need to address the curiosity in the back of her mind.

You could find out. Her thoughts whisper to her.

Why would she waste anymore time thinking about someone who refuses to claim her? Was it so hard to acknowledge that their daughter existed? That she was theirs?

But she does want to know.

She wants to at least have a name to curse for her problems. To blame someone for making her life like this. She needs something, a target for her anger.

She wants it to be someone's fault that she's had to struggle. Because the alternative was that she deserved this. Then… then what did she do wrong?

Bianca didn't choose this life.

Percy tugs at her sleeve again.

She would pick it again if it meant she got to meet him once more.

"Do you…" his eyes flick to the librarian overindulging in caffeine.

"Yes—no. I'm not sure."

The tile is suddenly more interesting than before. There's a slight crack in it. That's fascinating. Wow. Tiles were awesome.

Riptide sings as the blade cuts the air.

Percy grabs her hand and pulls her gently forwards.

There were so many tiles. There's one with two cracks in it. Another has no cracks but instead has a very slight warp that catches the light.

Bianca steps over a tile and her sneakers make skidding sound.

She was learning something new about tiles every second.

Percy stops and Bianca does as well.

She can see Riptide pointing at the ground, relaxed, but ready for battle at a moment's notice.

The hem of the Titaness' dress hovers over a particularly shiny tile.

Bianca ever so slowly follows the threads as they make their way up the fabric.

She finds the cinch at her waist.

Then the exposed skin of the woman's neck.

Her jaw and delicate lips come into view.

And then Bianca darts her eyes up.

"How can I help?" the Titaness asks.

Bianca looks down again at the tiles.

"Do you…" her voice catches in her throat. It feels like someone has filled her mouth with sand. It's difficult to make sounds, to articulate her thoughts.

"Um…"

It's such a short request.

Percy squeezes her hand.

"D-do you know who my parents are?"

The goddess turns a page in her book.

"What is your name?"

"Bianca di Angelo."

"Hmm," the goddess drinks her coffee slowly, leisurely. "And do you have a memory in mind?"

She nods, "Yes." She has a fond memory of a time when Nico told her a secret. Something about him that made him cry like the child he was. Why did he have to be an idiot? Bianca would love him no matter what, so long as he was happy. She wishes he could just accept himself.

The ceramic cup makes a clinking noise as it is set down.

No pages flutter.

No ink rains.

No quills ready to paint from memory.

But the goddess looks up.

"I have the information you seek."

Bianca waits.

The goddess says nothing.

Percy shifts nervously, "Is there a problem?"

"Yes, this is private information," the Titaness states. "I will not divulge it to a third party."

She wasn't looking at Percy when she said it.

"I'll take it on paper, like Thalia did," Bianca says. She's getting nervous at how the immortal kept staring at her.

"It isn't meant for you," Mnemosyne's eyes narrowed. "This is information pertaining to Bianca di Angelo."

"I know," Bianca feels a tinge of frustration. "That's why I'm asking. I want to know who my parents are."

"I will not give it to you."

"Why not?" She forgets her nervousness and it turns to anger. Her words are heated.

Percy tenses next to her.

Mnemosyne flips to a blank page and looks her in the eye.

"It is because you are not Bianca di Angelo."

The air changes.

The goddess is no longer professional or polite. She's scowling at Bianca with pure unfiltered hatred. It's a personal anger, one that would stop at nothing to bring their target to ruin.

Percy lets go of her hand and steps in front of her, his sword leveled at the archivist.

"What are you playing at?"

Water seeps from the coffee machine and spills to the floor.

"The individual in front of me is not Bianca di Angelo," the Titaness restates.

"Yes, I am!" her frustration boils over. "I know who I am! My name is Bianca di Angelo!"

"Is that what you know?" Mnemosyne snaps her fingers. "Or merely what you believe?"

The weapon cabinet opens wide.

The cocking of pistols can be heard.

The crackle of magic accompanies them.

A blade leaves its sheath.

Electricity sparks.

The bow of Heracles levitates out and sheets of paper swerve around the room from all directions. They attach themselves to the weapon. A hand forms. Then a body. The parchment creates a lion's hide atop the figure's head. The construct pulls back the bowstring with ease. A bronze arrow flits into existence.

More paper warriors appear, brandishing the weapons of the past.

A young woman with twin blades takes position, lithe and ready to pounce.

A fighter in pristine golden armor stands with the confidence of someone who has never been harmed in battle.

Another paper golem forms, a young man with winged sandals, a reflective shield, and a sickled sword faces them.

Someone that looks like a Papier-mâché Percy saddles themselves onto an artificial Pegasus.

Mnemosyne catches a different tome from the air. "Bianca di Angelo ceased to exist when her father threw her into the Lethe."

The bow of Heracles straightens for a moment as the string snaps forwards.

There is a crack in the air as the weapon breaks the sound barrier.

Percy shoves her back as he turns, bracing the flat of Riptide against his forearm. The arrow hits the blade dead in the center and both sword and wielder are sent flying. The son of Poseidon crashes into a bookcase, buried under hundreds of manuscripts and archaic writings.

A paper tornado flies towards his fallen sword.

Another figure forms from parchment as they pick up Riptide from the floor.

Very familiar features take shape. Regal cheekbones and noble eyes. They don a Greek tunic instead of the silver coat Bianca saw them wearing. There is no circlet on their head, rather their long hair flows freely over her back and shoulders.

"You're a living lie," Mnemosyne hisses. "A being with no identity, no past, parading around wearing a dead girl's corpse. You've stolen her name. Her life. And now you've convinced yourself that you are her."

A gunshot rings out as the paper soldiers charge. They move past Bianca, ignoring her completely. A fireball detonates behind her.

Mnemosyne moves towards her.

Bianca's head spins and she tries to step back.

She stumbles over herself.

Why did her body feel so strange?

Her limbs aren't moving the way she wants them to.

Bianca's legs give out and she collapses.

No one is there to catch her this time.

"Memory is funny. Once you hit a vein the problem is not how to remember but how to control the flow."

It feels like someone's driven a railroad spike through Bianca's head.

She groans as she rises to her feet.

Her limbs feel like they belong to someone else, as if they were used to being shorter.

The breeze kisses her skin, a familiar comforting feeling. She used to feel it all the time with her mother and brother. When they would collect grapes in the countryside.

Bianca's eyes widened.

"W-what?"

Where did those images come from?

She never knew her mother.

Nico was the only person she ever had.

A house sits on a green hill.

An Italian villa with a vineyard sprawling behind it. It is old and worn down. But a deep fondness resonates within her heart.

I used to live there.

"No, I didn't."

A tear falls from Bianca's eyes.

"Why am I crying?"

A pain swells in her chest.

Mom needs me to help her with the harvest.

"My mother is dead. I don't even remember her face."

I do.

Her heart constricts and she shakes her head.

"Why does it hurt so much?"

The front door opens and a beautiful woman with black hair steps out, wearing a white sundress.

"Why does she look so much like me?"

Dad says I took after mom.

"Bianca!" she calls out. Her face lights up like the stars in the night sky. "Come here, my little white angel!" She kneels and holds her arms out.

The grass rustles behind her.

A young girl rushes past Bianca and towards the woman.

They have the same dark eyes and black hair.

Bianca has the very same.

Those are her features that the little girl wears.

Her face.

The woman hugs her tight and swings her around the porch of the villa. The girl squeals as she spins through the air. Bianca doesn't recognize the way the girl smiles or how her eyes shine.

Bianca has never made those expressions.

But she can feel her mouth twitching, her eyes crinkling.

She doesn't recognize them, but her body does.

"Nico!" The girl waves as her mother holds her up.

Bianca's brother moves past her as well, running towards the woman and the girl.

"Where are you going, Nico?" she says quietly.

"Bianca!" her brother says towards the stranger with Bianca's face.

"I'm over here, Nico," another tear falls.

Her brother doesn't look back.

He hugs the woman and grabs the girl's hands.

The two of them ran off towards the vineyard behind the house.

"Please don't go," Bianca's hand falters as the two disappear behind the rows of grapevines. "Don't leave me…"

The woman looks at Bianca and smiles.

Her heart aches with a sadness she has always known but never felt.

She doesn't know the woman, but she does at the same time.

She loves this stranger with all her being.

The woman turns towards the directions her children went.

"Wait…"

The wind blows gently.

"Please…"

Her head dips below the curve of the hill.

"Mom!"

Bianca feels a flood of memories which aren't hers.

She remembers walking the streets of Venice with her mother and brother, the city where she was born.

I was born in Washington D.C. with just Nico by my side all my life.

Bianca remembers the pale man with stern eyes who would only smiles when looking at the three of them.

Why won't you claim me?

Bianca remembers learning to dance, she loves dancing more than anything.

I can barely walk without tripping over myself.

Bianca remembers the crack of thunder as her mother was killed.

I don't know this woman. I've never seen her before. Who is she?

I know her. That's my mom. I miss her so much.

How can I miss someone I've never met?

How can you forget the person who raised you?

I raised myself.

Stop pretending to be me.

Who are you?

Bianca di Angelo.

Then why don't I remember this happening?

Because it didn't, these are my memories, they don't belong to you.

"The Lethe wipes the mind and soul clean."

The flood stops.

The villa is lonely without the wind.

The Titaness of memory stands at the doorway of the house.

Hazel eyes look at the person in front of them.

"But remembrance is my domain. Gods think they can toy with a mortal's mind without repercussions. That is a foolish notion."

She steps closer.

"Hades destroyed his children by trying to save them," pity fills Mnemosyne's eyes. "Our memories make us who we are. Without them… who are you?"

Tears fall from the girl with no past.

"Bianca di Angelo disappeared a long time ago. And you took her place. Tabula rasa. A being born from the shell plucked from the Lethe."

"Who am I?"

"That is what I want to know, who are you truly?" the goddess asks. "Who is wearing the corpse of Bianca di Angelo?"

She doesn't know.

The girl with no past has two sets of memories in her head. The smile of woman that haunts her empty mind. What she believed was her life unravels itself. Fake memories come undone. And she's left with nothing.

There's a void in her life.

Before Westover.

Before meeting Percy.

Before finding out she's a demigod.

There is just nothing.

Nothing for her mind to grab onto and says is hers.

Just a longing for a mother's touch.

The name she's used all her life is out of reach.

It connects to the past of a girl that no longer exists.

The experiences of Bianca di Angelo don't belong to her, but her body years to live them again.

It wants to reject the person it belongs to and return to its previous owner.

But that person is gone.

Bianca di Angelo does not exist.

"I don't know who I am," says the girl with no name.