The trudge to Hades' palace was almost a relief, even if only because it took them farther from the pit.

Hades' palace was a fortress carved from black obsidian. Its towers stretched impossibly high, their jagged edges cutting into the lifeless sky. Faint green and blue fires flickered in braziers along the balconies, giving off no warmth.

The gates were massive, meant for someone much taller than a puny demigod, and etched with the faces of the dead. Figures trapped in silent screams, their hands reaching out, frozen forever in stone.

The smell was strange. Not decay, but cold metal. The scent of a battlefield long after the bodies had been removed. A smell that made the living feel like intruders.

At the top of the walls, three figures watched them. The Furies. They did not move. They just sat there, staring.

Percy swallowed hard. "Are we… allowed to just walk in?"

Annabeth didn't answer. She just pushed on. "Time's getting short."

The first place inside the courtyard was a garden. A strange place, filled with plants that looked exactly the type to survive in the underworld. Plenty of mushrooms, a few corpse flowers that thankfully seemed to have their scent suppressed, and a collection of shrubs that Percy could tell were poisonous just from the wild colors. Jewels that could probably be traded for Lamborghinis seemed to sprout like weeds over almost every square inch of the soil.

Right in the center was an orchard of pomegranate trees. Like a raging bull, it suddenly hit Percy why Demeter looked so wistful when he took her pomegranate back in Missouri.

"Persephone's garden," Annabeth murmured.

She didn't have to warn him. He already knew.

Don't eat anything, unless you want to get stuck here forever.

Grover seemed to appreciate the collection. He eyed the pomegranates hungrily, and Percy couldn't blame him. They were all starving. What little remained of Demeter's fresh food had spoiled instantly upon entering the Underworld.

The closer they got to the entryway, the more guards began to appear. Skeletons. Warriors from time periods all throughout history.

Spartans with spears. Marines with grenade launchers. Revolutionaries with muskets. A Napoleon-era officer mounted on a nine-pound cannon, oddly happy-looking for someone who had been dead for two hundred years.

Percy's skin crawled. They were watching. They had no eyes, but they were watching.

Grover shuddered. "Do you think the skeletons are for show?"

Percy doubted it. It wasn't like the god of the dead needed protection. No, they were to scare everyone away so he never had to deal with them in the first place. And worst of all? They were really good at it.

The final two skeletons standing by the doors were mounted on a cavalry horse and an M4 Sherman, respectively. It should have been a ridiculous sight, but Percy had never seen anything more terrifying. They were ready to put a bullet through his brain, or a spear through his heart, or run him through with a jousting lance if he dared to step out of line.

He wished he had the confidence to stomp up to them and declare that Hades was expecting him, but after what had happened with Grover's shoes, every step felt like a gamble of whether or not the ground would open up and swallow them regardless. He simply bowed his head, and the doors peeled open like a fault line ripping apart.

Stepping inside felt like crossing into another world. Every sound echoed too long, stretching into the distance as if the room was endless. Shadows slithered across the polished obsidian floor. Not cast by any light source, but moving of their own accord.

And yet… Percy could feel traces of something else, as if someone had tried to make this place less grim, less suffocating. A few tapestries of relatively light colors, candlelit tables in a far corner. The faint scent of pomegranates.

At the far end, a raised dais of black marble loomed. And there sat the King of the Underworld, fifteen feet tall and wearing a crown of braided gold.

Hades, the god of the dead.

His presence did not demand attention like Zeus' storms or Poseidon's waves, but it was there, absolute and unshakable.

His robes, black as an oil spill and trimmed with silver, looked like the fur of a panther. Sleek and deadly. His skin was pale, not sickly, but ashen.

His eyes were the most unsettling. Dark and deep, it felt as if staring into them for too long could split your soul from your body, yet they glittered, like starlight reflecting off a block of obsidian.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but every syllable still made Percy want to kneel.

"You are late."

Percy took a steady breath as he stepped forward, keeping his posture straight but not too aggressive. He had learned his lesson with Ares. Snark and ego wouldn't get him anywhere. This time, he needed to be careful. "Uncle Hades, sir. Lord. I come with a request."

Hades raised a single eyebrow, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest of his throne. He didn't look angry, but he didn't look happy either. "A request, you say? You are bold, child. Brave, or foolish, I cannot decide. Very well. Speak."

Percy glanced back.

Annabeth and Grover both gave him encouraging thumbs up.

He turned back to Hades, steeled himself, and took a breath.

"Lord Hades, please, give the master bolt to me. I have been sent to you with the knowledge that should I return empty-handed, we are all doomed. I beg you, let me return it to Olympus. I want to stop this war before it has a chance to begin."

For a long moment, Hades said nothing. Then, slowly, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head just slightly.

"If only all of Olympus spoke as you do, child of Hestia. Perhaps then, the world would not be so… tiresome." Then his gaze hardened. "But I do not have the bolt."

The words landed like a sledgehammer. "S-Sir?" Percy managed.

"Who was it that told you I was plotting to start a war? Did they tell you I wanted more souls? That I would thrive off mass casualties?"

Percy's thoughts scrambled. "Well-"

"Did you not see Asphodel? Did you not see the endless lines? The overworked judges? In the past century alone, the amount of deaths per second has increased nearly tenfold. Do you think I need more?"

Hades let the silence drag before he scoffed, shaking his head. "Fools. The lot of them."

Percy couldn't stop himself. "They also said you were… jealous."

Hades' expression darkened. "Jealous? Jealous of what? Of Zeus and Poseidon's arrogance? I think you shall find that I am quite content to remain in my realm. Far away from my brothers' petty squabbles."

Percy believed him. In fact, standing here now, under Hades' gaze, it felt ridiculous to ever think he had taken the bolt.

"The truth is, hearthling… I have lost something, too. My Helm of Darkness."

Percy could feel the temperature in the room drop, or maybe that was just his own realization crashing down on him. It was just like Luke said. Only, Hades wasn't behind it.

"Who could've stolen it?" Annabeth asked, her voice sharp, calculating.

Hades' jaw clenched. "I have my suspicions. It vanished the same night as the bolt. The winter solstice."

His voice remained controlled, but Percy could hear the bitterness bleeding through. Not rage. Tired resentment. "So tell me, hearthling. Who stands to gain from war among the gods?"

Percy had no answer. But suddenly, the pieces didn't seem so scattered anymore.

Someone wanted Zeus and Poseidon to tear each other apart. Someone who had stolen from both Olympus and the Underworld. Someone who had everything to gain by turning the gods against each other. Someone smart. Someone patient. Someone waiting for them to figure it out too late. They were playing the gods like pieces on a chess board. And worse than that, they were winning.

Annabeth was the first to break the silence. And she did not sound happy.

"You expect us to believe you're the victim?" Her voice was sharp, but beneath it, there was something raw. That same grief Percy had heard when she snapped at Demeter in the diner.

"You talk about being wronged, about being accused of things you didn't do, but what about Thalia?" Her voice shook with fury, but thankfully she kept from fully shouting this time. "She was a kid. She didn't deserve what happened to her, but you sent your monsters after her. You hunted her down just because she was Zeus' daughter. Why didn't you take it out on him?"

Annabeth didn't flinch. Didn't back down. She wanted to fight.

To make Hades hurt.

And somehow, she did.

A flicker of pain crossed Hades' face. A wound decades old, reopened for just a moment. "You come here expecting a villain. A disgruntled brother, bitter that he was banished to the Underworld while his brothers were handed the skies and seas as if they were candies. You think Zeus has been wronged? Let me tell you what he has taken from me." He shook his head. His voice turned wistful. Almost soft. "A mortal woman. The mother of my children. Born before the pact my brothers and I made, swearing that we would have no more."

His expression hardened. The wistfulness died.

"When my brother found out about them…" His voice went cold. "…He destroyed her. In an attempt to kill my children."

Annabeth flinched. Grover went pale.

Percy's hands clenched at his sides. "Why?"

"Because in his eyes, my children were too dangerous to be left alive."

Percy felt his chest tighten. "They were just kids. Like me. Like Thalia."

Hades' jaw tensed. "Yes. My brother expected me to kneel before him. I may not be king of the gods, but I am not one to be trifled with. My brother needed to be taught that lesson by force. I am responsible for the death of his daughter. And should he dare to break his oath again, I will not hesitate to do it a second time."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Hades took a breath. His grip loosened. And just like that, his face smoothed. His voice returned to its original cool rumble. "But now you wonder why I sent Alecto after you, do you not?"

"The Chimera, too," Grover spoke up. His voice wasn't steady. "It was a miracle we made it to camp alive."

Hades waved a hand. "The Chimera was not my doing. A stroke of horrific luck on your part. I cannot be blamed for your unique scent, hearthling."

Percy clenched his fists. "Mrs. Dodds almost killed me. Twice."

"Did she? Had I truly wanted you dead, I could have the earth swallow you rather than waste Alecto's time sending her to be your math teacher."

Annabeth's frown deepened, her mind working faster than Percy's. "You didn't want him dead. You wanted him at camp."

Hades inclined his head. "Smart girl."

Percy's heart pounded. "Why would you care if I went to Camp Half-Blood?"

For the first time, Hades' gaze softened. Just a fraction. "It was not my concern," he said, "It was your mother's."

Percy's breath caught.

"My sister came to me. She asked me for a favor. To ensure that you would be sent on your way. Had it been up to that old horse and your protector," he glared at Grover, "you may very well still be attending that school. Waiting until you could no longer keep the monsters at bay."

"Why would you do that for her?" Percy asked. "Do you owe her favors, like Demeter?"

"No. But she has always treated me with respect, when so many of my kin have not. So, I honored her request."

For a moment, Percy just stared.

Hades. The god of the dead. The one every story painted as ruthless, cruel, bitter.

And yet, his mother had trusted him, and he had listened.

Hades' lips curled slightly, the faintest flicker of amusement. "Besides, had I refused, she might have stopped coming to our book club."

Percy blinked. "Your what?"

Hades sighed. "Persephone and Nyx would have my head on a pike were I to ruin that."

Percy had no idea how to process that information. He wasn't sure which part was more ridiculous. That his mother attended book club with the god of the dead, or that Persephone took it seriously enough to threaten divine consequences.

"And the second time?" he blurted. "On the bus in New Jersey?"

Hades didn't answer immediately. He tapped a single finger against his throne, thoughtful. "Life insurance."

Percy swallowed hard, his thoughts racing, trying to piece together everything they'd just learned. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly, restless. There was something he wasn't seeing yet, some final missing piece.

And then Hades stilled. His dark gaze flicked downward, toward Percy's backpack. "…Interesting."

Percy frowned. "What?"

"Tell me, hearthling. Why do I sense the master bolt in this very room?"

"What?" Percy asked, "That's-"

His voice caught in his throat.

No. No way.

His hands moved on autopilot as he reached behind him, grasping the straps of his backpack. The one he'd been carrying this entire time.

It was heavier than he remembered. His hands were trembling as he yanked it off his shoulders and flipped it open.

And there, at the bottom-where he should've only found an empty pack of cookies and a crumpled twenty dollar bill, sat a two-foot long cylinder, capped on both ends with spikes and flickering with energy, as if it were a hurricane made solid.

"No." His voice was barely a whisper. "This can't be right."

As his fingers curled around the bolt his hair stood on end. The air smelled like an oncoming storm. Ozone and petrichor.

"Percy?" Annabeth asked, breathless, "Why do you-"

"I don't know," he blurted. His chest tightened in panic. How long had it been in his backpack? Who could have put it in there?

And then, the final puzzle piece snapped into place.

That smug, leather-wearing, trigger-happy jackass.

"Ares," Percy whispered. Something twisted in his stomach. Something hot. Something furious. "Ares gave us this backpack."

Percy shoved the bag away from him like it was cursed. He stood up so fast he almost knocked into Grover. "It was Ares," he spat, his voice rising. "It's been Ares this whole time!"

Annabeth's eyes widened. "But why would he-"

"Why? Are you kidding me? Look at this! Look at all of it! The missing bolt, the missing helm, the war that everyone wants to stop but keeps getting pushed toward anyway. Who loves war more than Ares?! Who wants the gods at each other's throats?!"

Annabeth's lips parted. She understood. But Percy wasn't done. His fingers curled into fists. His blood felt like fire.

"He's been stringing me along from the start! He used me! He made me think I had a shot at stopping this war when really, he was just watching me run around like an idiot! Gods, I should've known! He handed me this bag like it was a favor! He set me up! He set all of us up! He set up the whole world, just because he's bored! Because he's Ares, and if there's no war to fight, he has to start one himself!"

He felt like he could punch through stone. Like if Ares were here right now, he'd fight him with his bare hands.

"And the worst part? He's almost won! Zeus is about to rain fire on the world, and Ares is probably just sitting back and enjoying the show, sharpening his stupid sword, waiting for the war to explode so he can march into battle and act like it's all 'honor and glory' instead of what it actually is! A giant, bloody mess that he caused!"

His chest heaved. His head pounded.

"I didn't steal the bolt, Hades," Percy ground out. He couldn't bring himself to use any titles. The idea that Ares was also a Lord made the notion of saying the word out loud make Percy want to vomit. "I swear on the River Styx."

Hades slowly nodded "I am aware, hearthling. I would be concerned for my sister if her only offspring were to come out without an ounce of honor."

He rose from his throne and approached Percy. Then, he knelt. Not in submission, not in weakness, but in understanding. The idea of the god of the Underworld kneeling before anyone would have made Percy want to laugh if he wasn't still twice Percy's height on his knee.

"Your quest is nearly complete," he said, "But I am afraid I must ask you to do one last thing."

"Kick Ares's ass," Percy agreed. "If he's got your helm, I'll get it back."

Hades cracked the smallest smile. "I will send you three back to the surface world. I see that you are tired, but you will have no chance to rest. Ares likely expected me to kill you, and is waiting to do it himself on the off chance I did not. Have you any final requests?"

"A pomegranate," Annabeth said immediately.

Hades raised an eyebrow. "I assumed you would be smart enough to know not to eat the food of the Underworld."

"I have no plans to eat it," she said.

Hades shrugged and snapped his fingers. A pomegranate appeared in her hands, so large that Percy could see himself using it as a basketball.

"Farewell, heroes," he said, "Do not fail."

A clap of his hands and the shadows closed in around them. For a moment, Percy felt as if he were being sucked through space by a black hole, and then a rush of air filled his senses. Fresh air.

Percy hit the ground hard. The air punched out of his lungs. The sudden brightness burned his eyes, and his ears rang from the rush of silence to sound.

Somewhere to his side, he heard Grover vomit.

For a moment, he just lay there, gasping. The wind carried the scent of salt and dead fish. The heat of the morning pressed against his skin, so different from the cold weight of the Underworld.

A shadow shifted over him. Annabeth. "Come on," she whispered, pulling him upright.

Percy's body screamed in protest. But he pushed himself to his feet, wiping the sand from his face.

Annabeth's gray eyes were locked ahead. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Hades was right."

Percy followed her gaze. Only a few dozen feet away, strolling down the beach from his parked motorcycle like he had all the time in the world, was the god of war.

Percy's heartbeat pounded in his ears. "…Face the god who has turned."

The sun was rising behind Ares. The solstice had begun, and the skies were bleeding.