Setting my nerves on fire would've been preferable to the torture I underwent. I craved being subjected to bear Atlas's burden. Being Tartarus's favorite plaything would've been a privilege.

The sleeping powder did nothing to alleviate my agony.

I awoke to water being dumped on my face by the bucketful.

I surged upward only for the wind to be knocked out of me as the restraints kept me pinned to the bed. The taste of iron hung heavy in my mouth. My throat felt as if it had been injected with pure Manticore poison – irritated, sore, and stinging. Dried ichor crusted underneath the restraints, the flesh there red, raised and rubbed raw.

I heard Psyche's cries and whispered apologies as she tried to undo the manacles. She fumbled with the key, the metal clanging against the tiny opening.

When the restraints finally gave way, she poured another bucket of water over my head. The water rushed toward my injuries, knitting skin and soft tissue together.

I blinked twice, lightly gasping as the realization sank in.

There was no clock blinking behind my eyelids, no internal clock to ground me.

Psyche succeeded.

My stomach churned. Despite being soaked to the bone, I broke out into a cold sweat.

Oh God.

Oh God.

"Hey, hey, breathe," Psyche encouraged, echoing my earlier advice. She pushed back the hair plastered to the side of my face and gently tilted my head upward, forcing my gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, but she attempted a smile for my sake. "It's all done now. No more pain."

"Psyche, did I really go through with it?"

She reached for something in her pocket. She grabbed my hand, unfurled my fingers, and pressed the small, metallic object into my palm. Even now, I felt it rippling with power, wanting nothing more than to rip through its newfound constraint.

I stared at the golden hourglass for an indeterminable amount of time.

My body went on autopilot as I unclasped my bracelet and added the new charm to the band.

Psyche redid the clasp and gave me a side hug.

She ran her fingers through my matted hair. "You're so brave, Andy. I'm proud of you."

"There's nothing to be proud of. I'm a coward."

Psyche hummed noncommittedly. I could sense her disapproval, but she was an expert at masking emotions when she wasn't the one freaking out.

How the tables have turned.

"I'll remind you that the spell isn't permanent," she said. "You know how to reclaim the piece of your soul. It's as simple as summoning that sword of yours."

I numbly nodded in understanding.

"Tell you what. I'm going to get you some nectar, then I'll run you a shower. You'll feel better once you wash the day away."

Psyche flitted out of my room, taking the metallic restraints with her. I sat in my soaked bed, rummaging through damp blankets until my fingers brushed against soft, matted fur. My teddy bear's purple bowtie drooped, and the sagging fur covered his button eyes. His stitched smile remained hidden by clumps of wet fluff.

I pulled my teddy close to my chest and clung to him for all he was worth. He faintly smelled of Sally Jackson's laundry detergent.

I swallowed the building lump in my throat and focused on drying everything off instead. First the puddles on the ground, then my sheets and stuffed animals, and eventually, myself. I didn't care that Psyche would force me into the shower sometime within the hour; I was tired of the cold that had settled deep in my bones.

As promised, Psyche returned with a glass of nectar, topped off with a swirly straw and a tiny blue umbrella to boot. I obediently drained the glass despite it tasting like sawdust.

I let Psyche rummage through my closet until she found an outfit worthy for the rest of the day. I tuned into portions of her ongoing commentary, catching onto something about, "demigod chic" and "comfort trumps fashion."

She pulled me from the bed as if I weighed less than a feather and guided me to the bathroom with her hand lightly pressed between my shoulder blades. She continued her ramblings while I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the knob to the highest heat possible.

Traces of gold slithered down the drain, mixing with the otherwise black filth that had returned as an unwanted souvenir from Tartarus. I scrubbed until my skin turned red under my fingernails, the hot water leaving an uncomfortable stinging sensation. I stood under the showerhead as if this water could absolve me of the atrocities I'd committed as if it could disinfect the festering wound hidden in my soul.

I finished rinsing the conditioner from my hair and turned off the water. Steam hung heavy in the air, muddling my reflection in the mirror.

Good.

I didn't want to see the person looking back at me.

Psyche waited until I got dressed before practically dragging me back to my room and sitting me at the foot of my bed. I watched as she gathered my hair care products and my brush, perfectly content to sit behind me.

She carefully detangled any remaining knots and massaged the coconut-scented leave-in conditioner into my curls. Her fingers ghosted against the small of my back, making me realize how long I'd let my hair get.

Maybe I'd have Piper cut it for me if we had some downtime on this treacherous trip to Athens.

"Let me do something nice for you," Psyche said.

I tipped my head back for her.

Psyche wove her fingers through my hair. She never pulled harder than necessary, only tugging enough to get otherwise untamed curls to cooperate. She deftly tied off the end of the braid, but I knew her well enough to know that this was just the beginning.

A box appeared to my right, bathed in soft pink light. Psyche cracked it open and sighed happily.

In the meantime, I grabbed my phone and hit shuffle on my playlist, soft music filling the silence. Psyche hummed along to the songs she recognized and commented on the ones she didn't.

It looked like I had found someone who'd accompany me to a Coldplay concert.

"There, all done!" Psyche exclaimed, sliding a bobby pin into its final place.

Moving felt irreverent after all of Psyche's intricate work. I hadn't seen the finished product but given the amount of time she'd spent and the gentle sloping of my hair along my back, I knew she'd take my breath away.

Despite not wanting to glimpse at my reflection, I followed Psyche to the full length mirror I had hanging on the back of my door. She summoned a smaller mirror to her hand, allowing me to glance at her creation.

I gasped, drinking in the piece of art resting against my shoulders.

"I can't believe you remember this," I said, carefully tracing the braids with the tip of my index finger.

Psyche squeezed my shoulders and smiled. "It's not often that I host overnight guests. Of course, I would remember! You only stared at that page for the rest of the night!"

My cheeks burned. It was a good thing she didn't know why I'd been so enamored with this specific hairstyle. I didn't need to take any of Eros's flak.

"You're every bit the warrior on the outside as you are on the inside," Psyche said. "You might not be the same person you were a few weeks ago, but that much hasn't changed."

"I became something I barely recognized," I admitted, pulling my arms to my chest. "I think a part of me got left behind in there. I don't know if I'll ever get it back."

"Your friends and I will be here until you do."

"It might be a while before that happens."

"Well then," Psyche said, voice lilting upward, "it's a good thing we have all of eternity ahead of us. I'm sure that-"

Psyche abruptly paused. Her eyes flickered toward the window. Her expression dropped into one of worry and utmost concern.

"I've lingered for far too long," Psyche said, drawing away from me. "The Queen of Olympus, she rapidly approaches. I have no need for a splitting migraine today."

"I understand." I pulled Psyche into a quick hug, restoring her smile. "Thanks for everything, Psy. I owe you one."

"And I owe you at least twenty," she said, waving off the offer. "Think nothing of it. All I ask is that you visit me more often."

"Keep Eros away and consider it done."

"Stay safe, Andy. Until we meet again."

Psyche vanished in a swirl of butterflies, leaving behind the faint scent of wintergreen and the promise of danger yet to come.

Jason's newest body piercing had been a nightmare to bandage. The Fates had been smiling on him since the Imperial gold blade had missed every major blood vessel and his spinal cord. The same couldn't be said for other arterioles and venules, leaving Jason's torso a bloodied mess. I cringed at the gash tearing through his diaphragm and was extra diligent with those sutures. It was a miracle Michael Varus hadn't severed his phrenic nerve.

Piper was an excellent scrub nurse, handing over supplies as I worked to staunch the bleeding.

After I closed the entry wound on his back, I encased Jason's injury in a dome of water and pulsed healing magic through it.

Steam passed through the water as if the dome was intangible, filling the room with a scent that reminded me of burning flesh. Thankfully, he was unconscious and wouldn't have to learn what his insides smelled like.

Piper, unaccustomed to the messiness of a slapdash OR, wrinkled her nose at the gruesome sight. Her protective eyewear had fogged around the edges, and her surgical robe and gloves were stained red up to her elbows. Though this was new and traumatic, she kept her composure until Jason's vitals stabilized.

She made quick work of shucking off the bloodied clothing into the biohazard bin as soon as I confirmed we had finished. Grabbing a chair that had been shoved into the corner of the infirmary, she sat herself beside Jason, gingerly taking his hand in her own.

I turned away and gave her some privacy. Whatever she whispered to him wasn't meant for my ears. Instead, I busied myself checking on Jason's blood transfusion, pain medications, and intravenous nectar drip. While this would help with the physical injuries sustained, the real damage had been on his soul. Not even Psyche or Apollo could do anything to heal that.

"Is there anything else we can do?" Piper asked, hoarse from her silent crying. Her red-tinged eyes shone under the fluorescent lighting. "Can't you reverse time to before he got stabbed?"

I winced. "When we get hurt by blessed metals, the material touches our souls as well as our bodies. There are some wounds that even the gods cannot heal."

"You sound just like Juno."

"To be fair, she was one of my teachers for five years." I scribbled some finishing notes on Jason's chart and set it on the countertop. "But, I have faith in Jason. He will find the strength to heal himself. In the meantime, I can help manage his pain."

"I know we definitely don't say it enough, but thanks, Andy. I don't know what we – I – would've done without you."

"I'm sure you would've figured something out." I disposed of any remaining bloodied bandages and single-use surgical equipment. With the snap of my fingers, the biohazard bin was emptied of its contents – deposited in the proper site, of course. "I'll give you two your space. Let me know if anything changes."

"Thanks, Andy."

"Of course."

I quietly shut the door behind me. I made it as far as the former holding area of the Athena Parthenos before my steps faltered. I tumbled over the walkway's edge and slid against the glass bay doors until I reached the bottom.

Those few milliseconds of free fall made my heart race. Despite staring at the bright blue sky and perfectly white, puffy clouds, I swear, the air reeked of sulfur. Red lighting tinged my peripherals. I scrambled back until my back was flush against the curved glass.

I forced myself to take slow, even breaths. I allowed my head to rest against the glass, relishing in the cooler surface temperature.

Blood had stopped bothering me ages ago. God knows I had to get over it thanks to my training with the Olympians, not to mention the rigorous surgical training I completed under Apollo's supervision.

Looking back on it now, I know what sent me spiraling. Between the blond hair, gaping chest wound, and metallic tang associated with blood, I'd been transported back to two years ago at the Battle of the Labyrinth. Couple that with the fact that I had escaped Tartarus's bloodbath two days ago, it had been too much, too quickly.

My sole consolation was that Jason remained alive.

Cleo hadn't been so lucky.

You let me die.

My head shot up like a rocket. I scanned the area and frowned when I didn't sense anyone out of place.

You knew what the Fates had planned for me and just let it happen, Cleo's voice whispered in the back of my mind. Some friend you were. You condemned a fifteen-year-old girl to die in service of gods who didn't know my name. Now, you're about to do it again.

"You're not real," I said aloud. "Cleo's soul got approved for rebirth. It's not possible for her to be here."

Who said anything about her soul? Her memory is more than enough to haunt you for the rest of your pathetic life.

"Go away!"

Fat chance. I think I'll stay right here alongside the memories of all those you've slain. In fact, I think you should go spend some quality time with Mellinoe! I'm sure she'd be spoiled for choice!

Gods of Olympus, did I manage to bring back water from the River Acheron with me? Or maybe I was fully in the throes of PTSD and it was manifesting by using the voices of my fallen friends?

Whatever the case may be, I cleared my head of those negative thoughts and drowned out other attempts on my sanity by blasting my music. There was nothing like listening to Lady Gaga to feel like a powerful woman.

We wouldn't arrive in Olympia until tomorrow, and there were things to get done in the meantime. Lapses in mental health could wait until Gaea returned to the ground from whence she came.

Unsurprisingly, I found Leo first.

The top half of his body was crammed into the crawl space, wedged between the layers of the hull with the plumbing and wiring. It definitely wasn't an OSHA sanctioned work area, but I knew the truth behind Leo's sudden uptick in hull maintenance.

"Need any help?" I asked.

There was a sudden bang followed by a string of Spanish expletives.

"That's it, I'm getting a bell for you!" Leo exclaimed, voice muffled by being in the hull. He slowly inched his way out of the crawl space, rubbing the back of his head with a soiled glove. With his free hand, he reached into his toolbelt and pulled out a small silver bell and rope.

In the span of sixty seconds, I had gained a new bracelet.

The bell softly jingled as I lowered my hand to my side.

"How's the head?"

"Fine," Leo sighed. Exhaustion clung to his frame like a wet blanket. Besides the obvious signs of sleep deprivation, Leo was in desperate need of a shower, every inch of him covered in sweat, oil, and grime. "How's Jason?"

"Stable," I said. "He'll have to finish healing himself, but I patched up everything as best I can."

Leo grimaced.

"Hey, at least he's still alive. Jason's not the type to give up. I'm sure everything will be fine in the end."

"The end is approaching much too quickly for my liking." Leo's fingers frantically tapped the top of his toolbelt. "Storm or fire, y'know? Even if Jason fully recovers from this, there's no guarantee that we both make it out. Honestly, there's a chance that none of us will make it out alive thanks to Queen Dirt Face and her nepo babies. Who thought it was a good idea to leave the fate of the world in the hands of seven teenagers?!"

I placed my hands on Leo's shoulders, disrupting his train of thought.

He startled and backed into the wall, bumping his head a second time. It looked like Jason wasn't the only one I had to worry about when it came to head injuries.

"We can't control the cards the Fates deal us," I began, "but we can make the most of them. That's why you're rebuilding Festus, right?"

Leo's jaw dropped. "How did you...? Heh, I shouldn't be surprised you figured it out."

"I've lost friends before, good friends. If I had the chance to restore them, I'd do so in a heartbeat." I pressed my hands against the outermost layer of the hull, the machinery whirring at a steady hum to keep the Argo II afloat. "However, I also know that you can't bring back our winged friend if you pass out from exhaustion. Tell me what you were working on, and I'll pick up where you left off."

"I can't ask that of you, Andy."

"You'd be doing me a favor. It's in everyone's best interests that I keep myself occupied. Idleness breeds unpleasant thoughts."

"I get it. Well, if you're offering, there's a project that could really benefit from your insight."

"After you, Captain Leo."

I followed Leo to his room.

We had to be vigilant of Buford roaming the halls seeing that he had taken Coach Hedge's rule of keeping girls and guys out of each other's rooms to heart. Yesterday, Hazel had barely crossed the threshold of Frank's room while waiting for Frank to return a pack of colored pencils when Buford barreled down the hallway. The Coach Hedge hologram blared to life with an ear-splitting "DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY!"

Frank had yelped and turned into a parakeet.

For better or worse, Buford had gone on a power trip since Coach left.

We made it to Leo's room without incident.

If ever there was a portable version of Bunker Nine, it was Leo's room. Hephaestus would be proud.

The mattress was littered with wires, nails, and the guts of several disassembled bronze machines. His three massive rolling tool cabinets – Chico, Harpo, and Groucho I remembered – took up most of the room. Dozens of power tools hung on the walls. The worktable was piled with photocopied blueprints from On Spheres, the forgotten Archimedes text Leo had liberated from an underground workshop in Rome.

"I'm running out of time to work on this project," Leo muttered, pulling a set of keys from his tool belt. He unlocked Groucho's middle drawer and gestured for me to take a look. It was a bronze astrolabe and a fist-sized chunk of crystal.

His eyes drifted from the drawer to the two drawings on the bulletin board above his worktable. The first was the old crayon drawing he'd made when he was a kid, before Gaea had killed Esperanza in the garage fire. The second was a charcoal sketch that could've only been done by Hazel.

It had been a while since I thought of Calypso. Now her likeness gazed back at me from the bulletin board – her almond-shaped eyes, full lips, her long straight hair swept over one shoulder of her sleeveless dress.

Hopefully the makeshift "watch" I gave her encouraged her to give a Leo a warmer welcome than originally written.

"An astrolabe and a crystal from Ogygia."

"Yup," Leo confirmed.

"How's Calypso doing?"

"You...you know Calypso?"

"Mhm." I reached for the astrolabe and crystal. "Percy and I landed on Ogygia after we blew up Mount St. Helens. We got stuck there for about two weeks."

"You know, that explains a lot." He shook his head in disbelief. "Wait, if you knew about Calypso, why did you leave her behind? She doesn't deserve to be imprisoned."

"Believe me, I would've brought her back to Camp Half-Blood that moment had if I could've. I was still a demigod at the time. There was no chance I had enough power to disrupt Zeus's punishment. I would've caused Calypso more pain if I tried to help her off the island."

Leo stared at my face long enough for me to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

"You left her with that watch. You told her another hero would break her curse."

"I did."

Leo's hands latched onto my forearms like a vice. Heat radiated into my skin, threatening to ignite the residual oil on his palms. His eyes gleamed like a man possessed, though I was sure no eidolons had snuck aboard.

"Who was it you saw freeing Calypso?" Leo asked.

I grimaced. "Leo, I can't-"

"Please, Andy. I need to know if this will work - if all that I've sacrificed will be enough. She's been alone for long enough."

It took some quick thinking on my part, but I eventually settled with: "I'm not allowed to discuss the future or else things might go differently than the Fates planned. I can say that you're on the right track."

His face lit up in a radiant smile, throwing all caution to the wind as he hugged the daylights out of me. I returned the hug as best I could without damaging the ancient bronze astrolabe or crystal.

"Now if only I could get this stupid thing together. Duct tape doesn't seem to be the answer this time."

"I might be able to help with that," I said. The crystal thrummed in my palm, seemingly alive.

I cast my thoughts back to my time spent on Ogygia. The geode bunks had responded in kind to the energy of those nearby. If Calypso had been the one to cleave the crystal, there was a very real possibility a part of her had imprinted onto the rock. It'd serve as the perfect homing beacon once the astrolabe was whole.

I handed the crystal and astrolabe to Leo.

"I think this hasn't worked because you're thinking too technically about it," I explained. "Logic has its place, but in matters of the heart, emotions are the key."

"Aaaaaaaand you've lost me."

"Just, close your eyes, 'kay? Focus on the weight of the astrolabe in your hand. Picture the plate, the ecliptic ring, the alidade. Imagine it being illuminated by Calypso's crystal. Think of her smile, the sound of her voice."

Leo did as asked. The crystal began to glow, light seeping between his fingers. The rule bar spun in slow circles, quickly gaining speed as the crystal's glow strengthened.

"Feel the pull of the items," I continued. "They want to work together to accomplish your goal. Slowly bring them closer."

As the crystal approached the astrolabe, the womb lifted from the mater like a compact mirror. In the blink of an eye, the astrolabe sucked the crystal into the hidden compartment. It looked like something out of Kirby, sound effects and all.

Leo opened his eyes at the resounding SNAP made by the astrolabe as it returned to its original state. He blinked at the white light illuminating its edges and peeking through the stars charted on the bronze plate. The rule bar idly spun, unable to decide upon a destination.

"Holy guacamole," Leo shakily exhaled, staring at the astrolabe in disbelief. "Not even Odysseus got this to work. You figured it out in under five minutes!"

"Don't discredit your efforts. I wouldn't have been able to do this on my own."

"I'm going to see Calypso again!" Leo whooped and wailed, jumping around his room. He nearly crashed into Harpo causing his cheerful screams to morph into ones of panic. He finally came to a stop when a drill base fell from the wall and almost crushed his toes.

I softly laughed, glad that someone on this boat could feel this much joy if only for a few fleeting moments.

And so the cycle continues, Cleo mocked. Yet another lamb to the slaughter. If only you worked faster, none of this would have to happen.

Everything will be fine, I replied, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. There was no need to dampen Leo's spirits.

Repeating something over and over again doesn't make it true. You'll learn that soon enough.

Thankfully, Leo was distracted enough to miss my internal conflict. If this hearing voices schtick didn't end soon, I'd probably have to reach out to Psyche sooner rather than later. My internal monologue and occasional disruption by celestial beings was more than enough, thank you very much.

"Now that we have one problem solved, I have time to keep our Taco Tuesday tradition! What do you say, hermana?"

"How could I ever say no to Chef Leo's world famous tacos?"

Leo returned the now functional astrolabe to Groucho's drawer and locked it, still giddy with excitement.

"I'm gonna shower, then I'll meet you in the mess hall. Ah, I can't thank you enough!"

I chuckled as Leo launched himself for a second hug, this time intent on thoroughly crushing my ribs. I held him for as long as he wanted, carding my fingers through his hair as he happily hummed to himself.

"I'll start chopping the veggies while you shower. Take as long as you need."

"I'm going to make you a sous chef of the year award. No one can stop me!"

It came as no surprise to me when Leo pulled out a clean set of clothes from under the floorboards. He left his cabin like a hurricane, loose papers fluttering to the ground. The power tools on the wall threatened to topple off but managed to hold fast.

I glanced at the picture of Calypso once more.

"Hang on a little longer," I said.

Whether those words of encouragement were for Calypso or me, well, I guess I'd have to wait and see.