warning: graphic description of drowning 

      For a god, Hephaestus was pretty okay. Not that Lila's met many gods —  but of those she has met, one drank wine rather excessively, one tried to turn into a door, and the last looked at Lila like she'd quite like to chuck her off the peak of Mount Olympus, as she once did her son. In fact, Lila's pretty sure that Hera's dislike of herself made her more likable to the blacksmith god, who had been indifferent to Percy and Grover, respectful to Annabeth and Tyson, but rather sweet to her. He'd showed her designs for this huge metal flower he planned to gift his latest conquest on earth — Percy had looked disgusted, but Lila thought it was romantic. 

     (She'd asked him why he didn't just get normal flowers —  flowers die quickly, he'd replied.) 

     He had asked them to check out his favourite forge on Mount St Helens, which was fine. It didn't sound so bad, until he started talking of disappearing automatons and Typhon hidden under the mountain. Call Lila crazy, but she'd heard how Hephaestus's automatons killed Bianca di Angelo — and that had been a faulty one. If something was destroying them — well, she didn't want to meet it. 

      She had liked him. Even if she couldn't blink away the image of poor Bianca di Angelo, paler than a ghost and half-transparent, forced to survive on Happy Meals and trapped on the wrong side of the veil from her brother, she had liked the god (as much as one could like a god). Every word he had spoken had tasted of truth, without leaving a sour, bitter aftertaste in her mouth, as Hera's words had. 

      Shoddy workmanship, he had said of them. But when he looked at Lila, she had gotten the feeling that she wasn't grouped with the others. But why not? She was a demigod too, just like them. She's more of a mortal than any — she doesn't even have Annabeth's mind or Percy's instincts. 

    Caught up in her thoughts, Lila doesn't even realise she's stopped walking. Not until Percy turns to frown back at her, eyes swimming with concern. "What's wrong?" 

     She can't answer. But she looks around her again, blinking like she's just seen Earth for the first time. The mist seems to clear from her head a little — gods, she can hardly believe so much has happened in less than twenty-four hours. The Sphinx, Geryon, even Nico. (Lila's fine with change — she just likes it to be gradual. And this is not gradual, at all. The boundaries of their quest seem to be changing and molding faster than the labyrinth itself.)

      Scattered on the ground are half-shredded tree roots, wrapped around a tunnel that gapes like the maw of Tartarus. The tunnel itself leads into a blackened pit, practically exuding repellent energy — yet it somehow draws her in, too. It's dug from fresh earth, which means it's probably a new feature of the lovely ever-changing labyrinth. "Oh, What's this?"

      Grover rushes back, eyes alight with wildfire. "This wasn't here before! Lila, what did you do?"

      That sounds accusatory, somehow. Lila's not sure if she should be offended by whatever it's supposed to insinuate. Then again, maybe she's just overreacting — Clarisse has always called her sensitive.It wasn't intended as a compliment. 

      Annabeth's eyes are narrowed, but she doesn't seem angry, which is a good thing. Annabeth when angry is more terrifying than the might of Hera and whatever is hidden in Mount St Helens put together. No, instead, Annabeth looks contemplative. And confused. Whatever is going on, Annabeth certainly didn't foresee it.   

      Lila scrambles for an answer, looking around at the tunnel. Fingers graze the edges — they come away stained by dust. In all honesty, she didn't even notice it until Percy woke her from her reverie. . . And there was no reason for her to stop. "I . . . Are you sure this wasn't here before?"

     "I think I'd have noticed a three metre tall tunnel," Annabeth says mildly, surveying it with interest. She eventually deems it odd, but ultimately useless."We should be going." 

      Lila's about to agree, but Grover interrupts. 

      "This is the way," he gasps out, voice breathless and choked by elation. His eyes are glowing, and his body has lit up like he's bee electrocuted by a thousand Volts of electricity. Lila has only seen him like this once before; when he heard the voice of Pan, last winter. "This is it."

        "What way?" Percy asks, staring at the tunnel incredulously. "You mean . . . to Pan?"

        Grover looks toward Lila; she colours slightly, already embarrassed by the chaos she's accidentally caused. "Don't you feel it?"

      She blinks, feeling nothing. There's a voice at the back of her head; it whispers, look. So she looks. 

      Like the Mist has been violently ripped away from around her, she sees it. The tunnel is glowing, a golden line traced into the air that leads into the heart of the shadow, dancing through the darkness and leading gods know where. (Or maybe they don't, knowing the gods.) Something beyond is calling her, with a voice that seeks every crevice and crack and seeps in, filling her with cooling energy. It soothes her insides and wraps her in the fresh summer air, leaving her begging for another reminder of the outside world. Lila, it calls, whispering.

       "Oh, uh, you mean that . . . yeah, I can feel it."

       Annabeth raises a skeptical eyebrow, but Grover turns to the rest of the group like he's just won a war, eyes alight with victory. This could be it for him. The making of his career — or the prologue to his demise. "This is the way. I'm sure of it."

       Lila, it calls again. She's heard it before, somewhere. 

     "We'll come back," Annabeth promises, her voice taut. Grover is becoming wilder by the second, glancing at the tunnel like it'll disappear if he doesn't keep an eye on it. Perhaps it will; the labyrinth is fickle like that."On our way back to Hephaestus."

      "The tunnel will be gone by then," Grover protests. "I have to follow it. A door like this won't stay open. I don't even know how Lila found it."

      "But we can't!" Annabeth argues, grey eyes simmering with frustration. "The forges."

       Grover sighs, his eyes sad. He looks so much older than them all, just in that one look. The weight of a thousand generations of satyrs resting upon his shoulders. "I have to, Annabeth. Don't you understand?"

      Annabeths lips purse together, and Lila sees that she doesn't understand at all. Annabeth is one of those people who sets their eyes on a goal and can't leave until she has completed it, can't even tear her eyes away from it just in case it slips away. And here Grover is, choosing to abandon their path — and follow his own. 

     "We'll split up," Percy suggests, face downcast. He doesn't like the idea, but it's the best one. 

       Annabeth somehow looks even more horrified. "No! That's way too dangerous. How will we ever find each other again? Grover can't go alone."

      The door whispers again, reaching out with it's voice for Lila. She sighs, the full weight of the right path hitting her. She came here to find Nico and save the camp —  and she's done one of two. Percy and Annabeth can manage without her —  perhaps it's time she went her own way. "He doesn't have to go alone," she suggests glumly. "I can go with him."

       Even Grover looks shocked. "Lila — I can't ask that of you. Who knows — "

      "She can't go," Annabeth says, voice taut. Her grey eyes are wild too, a girl pulled through hell. "Lila, you can't."

       "Why not?" 

       Percy raises an eyebrow, agreeing with Lila. He doesn't look too enthused about the idea either, but it's the most logical —  something Annabeth should be enthused about. So why is she so adamant?

      Annabeth takes a breath, fist clenching. "Something the Oracle said," she explains. "I didn't understand it at first, but it makes sense now. It was about Lila —  'Keep her with you,' the Oracle ordered me."

      Lila blinks. "'Keep her with you'? Are you serious? Annabeth, that could mean anything. That's like, the most generic advice I've ever heard. You're kidding."

    "It's about this!" Annabeth's lip trembles, but she raises her chin defiantly. "I just know."

     Lila hesitates — but she remembers how Annabeth had believed her, when she asked to be on this quest. Annabeth hadn't even hesitated, not once. Doesn't she deserve the same trust and respect back? "Okay," Lila caves. "But what else can we do?"

      "I'll go," Tyson interrupts, placing a hand on Grover's shoulder. "I will go with him."

      They blink. It seems like the best compromise, but . . . Tyson and Grover are terrified of each other. They can barely even look at each other without flinching — with Tyson's hand on his shoulder, Grover looks like he's trying not to cry. And Tyson is pale with fear. 

      Lila's heart is thumping in her chest, filled with selfish, cowardly fear. She should be going. But Annabeth has never led her wrong, nor will she ever. Lila would follow Annabeth to the depths of Tartarus if she asked for it (not that she ever would). 

      Grover takes a deep breath, like he's trying to calm himself down. "Percy, we'll find each other again. We've still got the empathy link. I just . . . have to."

       Percy stares at the satyr, sadness seeping from his eyes. "I hope you're right."

       "I know I am."

       He sounds so sure of himself that Lila believes him for a moment. Everything is going to be alright; she feels it in her bones. The wild is going to be restored to it's former glory, and Grover will be the one to do it. 

      "Be careful," Percy tells Tyson, green eyes meeting Lila's. For once, they're completely unreadable, more solid than aquamarine marble. The Cyclops leans forward, pulling Percy into a warm hug.

       Then he does something that surprises Lila even more — he hugs her, too. He's a little too strong — for a moment, the air is squeezed from her chest and she thinks she's going to suffocate, but then she's released. When he steps away, she wants to pull him back and beg him not to go — beg them both. Instead, she just watches as they disappear into the tunnel, the shadows closing behind them like a molten cage.

        The earth stays open for a second, and Lila hears that call again, waiting for her. She really wants to answer it, but she stops herself. Clenching her first and digging her toes down into the ground. Half a second later, the tree roots have moved to cover up the pathway, the golden line fizzing out of existence with barely a spark. 

       "This is bad," Annabeth says, which Lila feels is a bit of an understatement. "Splitting up is a really, really bad idea."

       "We'll see them again." Percy says. Lila wishes he'd say it with more conviction. He kind of just sounds falsely hopeful.

        She sighs. "To the forge, I guess."

      Okay, in all honesty, it was entirely Annabeth and Percy's fault. 

      First, Percy begins asking about Annabeth's birth, and how she sprung from her mother like some sort of demon brain-baby. Yes, Annabeth was a literal brain-child, and she still has a belly button. Lila's pretty much exhausted all the jokes on that subject, so she zones out while they debate it. If she makes another bad joke about zombies she worries that Annabeth might stab her.

       Then, Annabeth decides she wants to see what's going on down in the forges, while invisible. So she puts on her cap and disappears without consulting any of the rest of their trio — Lila's fine with it though, because it's a good plan. For about five minutes, before Lila realises they probably should have decided on a place and time to meet back up, because Annabeth is now invisible. How are they supposed to find her again? Percy and Lila can't be waiting in the same place for the next hour — they'll both go insane from the sheer impatience of it all. Percy is already pacing, and Lila is seriously tempted to just go looking herself. 

       "Right, that's been long enough," Percy announces, after barely sixty seconds. "I'm going to check on her." 

       Lila is already feeling jittery. They're just waiting around like sitting ducks, still burning from the intense heat of the lava party going on below them. They can't even talk properly, for fear that whatever is down there will hear them. This is the worst possible scenario. And Percy wants to split up more? Is he insane? "It's been like, thirty seconds."

       "A lot can happen in thirty seconds," he insists. "I'm not staying put."

       "What if Annabeth comes back?" Lila hisses, eyes darting around. She's been a bit anxious ever since Annabeth's declaration of the Oracle's words. Why would she need to be here? This is turning out to be the worst day in the history of their quest, and they've had some pretty awful days. She misses Tyson's comforting strength and Grover's understanding of exactly how she feels. At least when Grover was around, she wasn't alone in her worry. 

      Percy shrugs. That makes her feel worse. 

       Her feet drum a constant rhythm onto the ground, unable to still themselves."What will she think if she comes back and it's all abandoned?"

      Percy looks around, apparently surveying whether it is safe. (It's not. He doesn't need to bother.) "You wait here for her, while I check it out."

       "That's a terrible plan! What if they come over here? What if they spot you? What if they spot Annabeth? What if they find you both, or if —" 

       "Hey," he takes her hand, leaning forward until their noses are almost brushing. His face is so close, she can see every speck of colour in his eyes. She's always just thought they were sea green — it's not so. If there are a thousand shades of green in the world, they're all contained within Percy's eyes, the constant storm of colour that never stills. She could stare into them forever. Maybe he's thinking the same thing about her, because his voice catches for a second before her continues. "It'll be fine. Just wait here for me, and don't get into trouble."

         He leans back, and Lila exhales — she can't tell whether she's disappointed, or relieved because now she can breathe again. "But whatever's down there — " 

        "I'll be careful," he promises, answering her before she even gets the chance to finish. Will you? she wants to ask. Percy isn't exactly known for his cautiousness. Or his stealth. "I just can't go on not knowing what's going on."

       "I don't — alright, fine," she caves with a sigh. The grin he gives her is almost worth it. Then he pulls her forward into hug, holding her in a way that seems reminiscent of a farewell. "As long as you're careful," she mumbles into his shoulder.

       "Always am."

       There's a lie if she's ever seen one, but before she can tell him so, he steps away, disappearing into the shadows. And Lila is left alone, with only the darkness to keep her company. 

      She waits for what seems like an age. Until Lila has exhausted every possibility, examined every inch of wall (just in case there's a secret door), behind every rock (in case there is a baby monster). Her knowledge of mythology is nowhere near as extensive as Annabeth's, so she still has no idea what the monsters are. The best she can guess is they're some kind of mini Cyclops, but that doesn't seem right. Cyclopes would have heard them coming — they have spectacular hearing, after all. 

      She really wants to follow Percy. But she can't shake the feeling that she'd probably do more harm than good if she went, so she stays back. She's better off waiting for the real heroes anyway. 

      Finally, she slumps down against a wall, half squatting, mouth dry. The heat of the volcano is slowly becoming painful, her throat parched and begging for water. Her water pack is heated too — upon this discovery, she lets out a little groan of frustration, but she swallows it anyway. The water tastes like bottled heat. (It's not nice.)

      "What have we here?" 

      She whips around, backing up into the wall and almost tripping over her own feet in her haste. She forces on a brave face, trying not to seem afraid. It doesn't work. 

      They have the faces of dogs — so not Cyclopes, then. They would be cute — their sleek bodies remind Lila of the sea animals around Camp Half-Blood beach, and she loves most of those — but they have some weird feet, and hands that slip into human-like claws that could probably rip through Lila's flesh with ease. Their faces are contorted into a snarl, teeth bared in Lila's direction. 

     "Hi there!" she tries for a winning smile. It feels like she's baring her teeth like a newly born puppy.

      The leader, the one in the front, snarls. The others follow suit, until their hisses fill the cavern. "Demigod?" One asks, but doesn't sound sure. 

      Her heart skips a beat. Maybe if they don't realise she's a demigod, they'll be less inclined to rip her to pieces. Okay, play dumb. She's always been good at that, anyway. She plasters an airy smile onto her face, blinking at the small monsters as if they are the cutest thing she's ever seen. "Oh my God, a puppy!"

       One snarls, but it seems a little muted. "A mortal?"

      "Do we kill her?" Another asks, voice coming out in raspy pants. They're a bit like ugly puppies with misshapen bodies. About ten — Percy could probably take care of them, but Lila doesn't feel so confident in her abilities — plus, she's not even sure what they are. What if they have some strange power she doesn't know about, like laser eyes or fire breath? She'd be dead within seconds. 

     Another growls, the sound harsh and cruel. "Of course we do, you dolt."

     Lila tries to keep the vacant smile on her face, hopefully masking the pungent stench of her fear and her heart pounding so hard she can barely hear anything else. "Uh . . . " From habit, her hand reaches for her necklace, rubbing the beads. It's a harmless habit, one she picked up from Annabeth.

      The leader narrows his eyes, spotting the necklace with all it's Ancient Greek beads. "She's a demigod!"

      Well, at least she bought herself some time. The dog-monsters snarl, lunging forward to snap at her, nearing closer and closer with every growl. She steps backward, panicking a little — after all, what can she do? She can't take out ten of these things, especially not in such close quarters in the centre of a mountain, without a speck of life to manipulate. There's no time to grow something. 

      Her hands slip into her pocket, and, by some miracle (or the Fates) wrap around one of the seeds that Willow gave her. Something like hope wraps around her heart, and she grabs it, throwing it straight into the eyes of the nearest monster. It screams, the sound echoing around the cavern and probably cluing any monster nearby on their location; Lila is so glad to be alive, she doesn't even care. 

       The seeds do nothing for a moment, and Lila's heart sinks. Then a singular flower bursts from the ground, glowing and infused with lilac magic. The monsters mutter nervously among themselves, retreating a little. Apparently they then decide that the flower is no threat, because they begin to slowly edge forward again. 

      The flower waits until it is surrounded by them. And then something happens; lilac mist sprays the air — Lila covers her nose and mouth, just in case, but it has no effect on her. Perhaps because she summoned it. Perhaps there's something else at play.

      After taking one large sniff, the monsters growl a little gentler. And then they are out like lights, slumping against the ground. Lila can't tell if they're dead or sleeping — she presumes asleep, because what flower kills people? Only poison does that, and this plant doesn't look like poison. Plus, she knows many flowers, but she's never seen this one before. Much like the other seed she used, it seems to be a specialty of the goddess of magic. 

      "Thank you, Lady Hecate," she mutters, hopelessly aware that something is dreadfully wrong. 

       She needs to get out of here. The monsters were screaming loud enough to wake practically every monster in a forty mile radius, and they won't stay dormant forever. But what if Annabeth and Percy come back? What should she do then? She can't let them find these monsters — they might think that something has happened to her. 

        Lila waits for a moment, trying to think. The best idea is simply to find the pair of demigods on her own, and hope that they don't come back looking for her. (And that's not a good idea. This is why Annabeth comes up with the plans.) 

       There's a loud shout from below; it sounds like a scream. A human scream. 

       She leans over the cavern, but she can't see anything but stone — only hear those terrible screams getting louder and louder and louder, echoing through the cavern. Then something shifts; the air smells of salt, the temperature seems to simultaneously drop three degrees and rise a thousand. Lila can feel the sweat dripping down her back and forehead, sticking to her T-shirt. It's not a nice feeling — it's like she's been drenched in a thousand gallons of almost-boiling water, and then pushed into an oven to be dried out. 

       That's not what concerns her. It's the taste of salt. Is that Percy?

      The thundering is getting louder. It's coming from below her — what could be going on down there? The entire earth is shaking and quaking, slowly getting louder and louder, a cacophony of clamorous aches, growing in volume exponentially. The entire mountain is grating on itself, plates shuffling and moving. Even the lava below seems to be rising, so fast that Lila almost believes she is imagining it. 

      Lila blinks. Then she realises what's about to happen. 

       Here's the thing: despite all her talk of self preservation and survival, Lila is not a child of Athena. She doesn't have Annabeth's ability to rationalise away every problem she's ever encountered, nor Percy's quick-thinking and resourcefulness. Sure, Lila's proud of some things about herself. She likes the way she tries to help people, even if it's sometimes misguided. She likes the way she tries her best, no matter how many times she fails. But she's driven purely by the tiny reactions that take place at the bottom of her spine and liver, connected to her heart and powered by emotion. She'll think too much, or not at all. (And this is the latter.)

      Percy is down there. Annabeth is gods know where. Lila jumps straight off the ledge, down into the cavern below. 

       Her training saves her life, again. Thank the gods for Chiron — she'd be dead three times already without him. The fall wasn't deep enough to be fatal unless you stuck the landing really badly, but it probably should have hurt, if not for Lila tucking herself into a ball and rolling the moment she hits the ground. It still hurts, but it'll only be a bruise. Better her skin black and blue than pallid and limp. 

      She lands in a tunnel; it's narrow, but not narrow enough to be uncomfortable. About four people wide, the walls smooth and clear. She runs her hand toward it; it's definitely been carved out by something — these marks are not natural. The thundering grows louder, so she begins to job in that vague direction, biting her lip. 

     It takes less than five seconds for her to realise the idiocy of her plan. First, she has no idea where she's going — and even if she did, she has no idea how to get there. Second, the grating has grown so loud she can barely hear her own thoughts, a splitting headache louder than the carving of earth taking place in her brain. She groans, massaging it. She's sweating even more now — the volcano is just too hot, burning her up from the inside. Is this seriously how she's going to die? Wilting to death in a volcano. 

       There's a storm forming behind her. She can feel the rage of it's lightning, the fury of it's thunder. She hesitates to look. 

       She turns. The massive tidal wave roars in answer, crashing against the sides of the cavern walls. Shamefully, Lila forgets everything about Percy and Annabeth and their quest. She just turns to run, fully aware that you can't outrun a storm, and that she has nowhere to go. Where can she go that the water won't follow?

        She gets a few steps, and then the waves washes over her heads, and she loses her grip on the ground — no matter how much she cries out for it, or it for her.

      There's a sinking feeling in her stomach, like she's swallowed a stone and it's burying itself among her organs. In an attempt to conserve air, she refuses to exhale — but there's nothing to inhale, either. Her head is spinning, vision blurring — the water is just some vague blur now, pressing against her chest so hard it's uncomfortable. The weight of a thousand seas bares it's might against her and she struggles, refusing to breathe. It hurts — excruciatingly so. Her lungs ache, heart burns, her nose feels like it's bleeding. 

       Don't inhale, she whimpers, trying her best to obey her mind. But the instinct is overpowering everything else, her body begging for oxygen — don't breathe. But the grip on her free will is fading with her consciousness as she flails in the wave. She's moving somewhere — she's not sure where, but she's sinking and sinking, swept away by the water. 

       Eventually, she has no choice. She breathes. It hurts more, the water slipping into her throat, filling her airways and lungs. She chokes, spluttering but there's nowhere to splutter, only more water. The more she tries to cough out the water, the more enters her mouth, suffocating her. It almost seems to be replacing her blood, first in her lungs, then her brain, then her heart. She can't get it out of her system, it's swallowing her, filling her throat with smooth liquid and she gasps and coughs and all there is is water, completely sinking down into her lungs, and then she completely stops breathing. Around her is water, water, more water and she waves her arms, but nothing happens. There's nowhere to go. 

       Her muscles ache, exhausted. And then she's pretty sure she's dead. 

      When she opens her eyes, she's standing in a dark cave that seems to slip between realities like something half-dead, half alive. Scattered on the ground are bones and skulls, cast everywhere like some sort of macabre carpet. The bones shards dig into Lila's feet, and she realises with a start that she's barefoot, dressed in a simple white dress that seems somewhere between Ancient Greek and modern. It flows softly around her body, flowing out around her thighs but pulled tight around her waist. The material shimmers with white and silver light, a stark contrast to the deathly, plutonic air of her surroundings. Lila feels like she's being smothered by a thousand shadows. 

     She's dead. 

     The realisation hits her a little harder than she'd like to admit. When Lila had previously imagined her death, she'd assumed she'd accept it with grace and go marching into Elysium like she was there to rule it (that was definitely some wishful thinking). But honestly, she just slumps down against one of the cave walls and begins to cry.

       She can't believe she just failed so quickly, on her first quest. This — this isn't right, she was supposed to help Nico and Ethan and Annabeth and Grover — and, oh gods, what happened to Percy? She just drowned. She just died. She didn't even try to fight back, she just sort of accepted it and passed out, which was utterly pathetic. Maybe if she'd tried harder, struggled more — 

      "Come on, now," an alto voice says, rich in the cool tones of myth. "None of that."

     Lila wipes her eyes and looks up, blinking. Standing before her is a goddess cloaked in shadow, illuminated by the light of the torches behind her, blazing with amber fire. She holds two torches, one clasped in each hand. 

      Even Lila knows who she is. "Lady Hecate?"

     The goddess smiles a thinly. "Hello, Lila."

    Lila blinks. She pushes herself to her feet again, using the cave wall to steady her. When she pulls her fingers away, black mist is clinging to them — it dissipates the moments her eyes fixate upon it. "Am — am I dead?" she's a little afraid of the answer. 

      Hecate only hums, and the polecat at her feet jumps into the shadows, reappearing at the other side of the cave. It's actually a lot smaller than Lila first thought — or maybe the goddess's presence is just imposing and heavy enough to block out the eternity of silence waiting.  When Hecate releases her torches, they simply dissolve into the ground at her feet, but the fire in the corner of the cave jumps to life. Lila flinches back, the goddess twice more terrifying in the half-light. "No, I wouldn't say so," Hecate says thoughtfully. "How would you define life, being alive?"

     Lila bites back her irritation. She's speaking with a goddess — known for their politician-like responses. "I don't know." Can life be defined? Surely it's more of a feeling — the sun burning your skin, the grass on your bare feet, the power in your blood when you bend a plant to your will. Can you define a feeling?

    Hecate frowns, like Lila has disappointed her. "Death, child. The very definition of life is that it concludes with death. However long the life may be."

   "So are gods not alive?" Lila asks, thinking that over. "Since they never die?"

    "Of course not," Hecate laughs, like it is such a ridiculous question. "Can something be dead if it was never alive?"

     "Oh," Lila says. The inner philosopher in her is exhilarated by this conversation, but there's still matters to be discussed. "You didn't answer the question. Am I dead?"

      Hecate laughs slightly. "And the nature of death is that it ends a life." 

     Well, that was stunningly unhelpful, but there's a set to Hecate's jaw, a tilt in her chin that warns Lila that there'll be no more answers dragged from that goddess today. So she moves on, trying to ignore that she can't feel her heart beating in her chest. "Are Percy and Annabeth okay?"  

      Hecate only shrugs. "I couldn't tell you, I'm afraid," she says. "Your friend Percy — well, it's not my place to say. I'm breaking enough rules by meeting you."

     "Rules?" Lila jumps in, fingers burying themselves within the folds of her skirt. "What rules?"

      Hecate narrows her eyes at Lila, irises glowing with black fire. Lila worries she's toeing the line between being turned into a polecat and getting answers. "You summoned me, child. Why don't you just ask what you want to ask?"

      "What?" Lila stammers, confidence failing. She resists the urge to take a step back — gods only bow to strength, after all. "I — I didn't summon you." — she's sure she would remember, if she had. 

       "Of course you did," Hecate says, raising a dark eyebrow. She looks entirely unimpressed, corner of her lip curling with a sort of distaste reserved for the worst people. Lila wants to bury herself, under that gaze. "Why else would I be here? We're on different sides of the war, you see."

       It takes a few seconds for Lila to understand what Hecate is referencing. It's just strange to hear her call it "the war" — until now, Lila hasn't even thought of it like that. But that's what it's all leading up to, isn't it? The war. The inevitable conclusions to a Greek Tragedy, a promise sworn to end in countless deaths. She flinches at the thought. 

     You're dead, she reminds herself. Shut up. She can be such a coward.

     The next realisation hits her a few seconds after. "You — you're working for Kronos? But — why? He's evil!"

      The corner of Hecate's mouth curls upwards in a sneer, the goddess's face contorting in disgust. "I don't work for Kronos. I work with Kronos." Each word hits with a different kind of fury. Lila had forgotten, for a moment, that she was talking to a goddess. "And evil is such a strange word," Hecate continues. "Those seeds of mine; you find them useful?"

      "Yes!" Lila remembers, cursing herself out. "Thank you for those, they've saved my life." The words slip away hurriedly, sounding insincere even to Lila's own ears, but she means the words with her whole heart. She'd be dead, if not for those. 

      Hecate ignores this, smiling slightly. Her grin reminds Lila of the permanent smile stamped into the skulls scattered along the floor — teeth bared, lips curled back. "They used to call me evil, too, you know. Not everyone — but some. Do you think that I'm evil?"

      "No," Lila argues, but she doesn't sound sure. 

     "Why not?"

      It feels like a trick question. "Uh, you helped me," Lila points out, voice shaking slightly. "That's not evil."

      "Isn't it?" Hecate tilts her head, looking amused. "You can be such a typical hero, you know. Defining others by yourself. How do you know that you're not evil?"

      Lila gulps. "I guess . . . I don't?" Every other answer feels superficial and pretentious, and something is warning her that Hecate would hate that more than an admittance of Lila's confusion. 

      Hecate smiles again, but this time it's less mocking and more proud, like Lila is growing up and Hecate is watching it happen. More lip and less teeth — it's a little patronising. "Exactly. There is no good or evil, no right or wrong. Every demigod that steps onto our side — " Lila doesn't miss the emphasis on "our". "— has a valid reason. They're not born evil; nobody is. You would do well to remember that."

       "Not even Kronos?" Lila asks, because she feels like Hecate will appreciate her speaking her thoughts, instead of keeping silent. The goddess reminds her a bit of one of those understanding, slightly stern teachers. The ones that would play devil's advocate, even in the worst cases. That's the essence of Hecate, really — the compromise between devil and angel. "Wasn't he born evil?"

       The goddess watches Lila's face carefully, her eyes boring holes into Lila's cheeks. "No, he wasn't," she says quietly. "He was just born." Perhaps at the sceptical look on Lila's face, she forges ahead with another analogy. "Do you think that magic is evil?" 

        Lila shakes her head, thinking back to all the lovely magic she's ever seen. Willow, Percy — hell, even herself. That magic wasn't evil at all. She loves the way Willow pulls flowers from the air, and Percy summons the storm. 

       "But what of my magic?" Hecate says, like she can read Lila's thoughts. Maybe she can, being the goddess of magic and all. "I'm using my magic to help Kronos, your enemy. Surely my magic must be evil?"

      "Uh . . . " Lila trails off, feeling a little unsure. "I don't know."

       Hecate nods, like she expected that answer. "Magic is not evil or good, Lila. It's just a tool — like a sword, and it moves to the command of the wielder. But there is no good or bad way to use magic — only opinion. What I see as a noble cause, you see as traitorous. What I see as cowardly and selfish, you see as kind and forgiving. There is no evil, no good — just perspective. Everyone is the hero through their own eyes."

     "But I don't understand," Lila repeats, wondering if Hecate is about to lose her patience. "How can you see Kronos as noble? What has he ever done that's noble?" Eating his kids? Murdering his father? 

     "I don't," Hecate negates. "I see his cause as noble. The toppling of the gods, the end of the world — he is wrong about many things. But he is not wrong in saying that the reign of Zeus has lasted too long. Look around — half the Olympian gods are his children, and most were born while he was cheating on his wife. He cares for no one but himself. Look at how he treats demigods — are you so expendable to him? To all of them? Have you ever met your mother, Lila? Not many demigods have, because Zeus decrees it so. My children have never been permitted to their own cabin in Camp Half-Blood, let alone a meeting with me, no matter how I begged and wished just to speak with them. Why do you think you haven't been claimed? Your mother loves you, she sacrificed a lot just for you — and you still haven't been claimed. That's not her, that's Zeus, ordering her against making contact. That's his fear poisoning hearts and burning the world."

      "But the other gods — "

       "The other gods are just as bad," Hecate thunders, her fury darkening. "They have never been kind to me, nor my children. Hades understands — look at that son of his, how they treat him. Ask Percy Jackson how they treat those who fail. Why do you think you only hear of the heroes who succeed, from Ancient Greece? What about everyone who failed? What do you think they're going to do to you all, when you fail to halt the inevitable fall of Olympus?"

        When she has finished, Lila blinks again. She doesn't really have anything to say — stunned into speechlessness. Hecate makes good points. But Lila just can't shake the instinct, the voice in the back of her head, saying No. She's wrong.

       Hecate continues. "There is a reason that heroes are remembered," her voice is soft. It's worse than the fury. "And it is not because they were good." It's because they won, no matter the cost. 

      Maybe Lila doesn't want to believe it. But she figures that even if she's unsure about her magic and her power and her worth, she'll at least be sure she's fighting for the right thing. And she is, because Kronos doesn't plan to save the world, only destroy it. And, maybe she's an optimist, but Lila is sure that things will take a turn for the better. The gods are two thousand years old, but they can change. As can Luke, and Ethan, and Hecate. (And if she doesn't believe in improvement, what else is there to believe in?)

      "Okay," she agrees, voice shaking slightly. "Maybe you're right. But the gods can change, and they will change — given the right circumstances. And they like the world as it is, and don't want to burn it all down into rubble. Can you say the same for Kronos?"

       Hecate tilts her head. "Your mother was right about you," she says. "You are reasonable, for a hero."

       Mother?

      "You know my mother?" Lila's entire being implodes with excitement, flames surrounding her heart and burning her upwards. She can almost feel the clouds beneath her toes. "You've spoken with her?"

       Hecate scoffs. "Of course I have. Why else would I have given you those seeds? It certainly wasn't for you."

      "What are you talking about?" Lila stammers, eyes creasing. "Willow gave me those seeds."

      The goddess of magic rolls her eyes. "Your mother gave you those seeds," she corrects. "Who do you think gave them to her? No — she came to me, begged for my help — I've always had a soft spot for her, you know — I was quite happy to oblige, being a benevolent being like myself. I can make one exception, just for her."

        "Who?" 

       Hecate laughs again, iron grating on gold. "Nice try, child. But it's not the right time. You're much more dangerous when you know who you are, you see. And it's not the right time for that." When will it be the right time? The goddess must have seen Lila's huff of frustration, because she placates, "Perhaps you'll work it out yourself." Her eyelid lowers — is she winking? "We've always been closely linked, you know. Look to the oldest myths; you'll understand."

      "Demeter?" Lila asks again, because she really doesn't know how to take a hint.

      Hecate raises an eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed. The torches on the far walls seem to blaze a little brighter. "Don't be naive. You've spoken with your mother already. Do you really think that was Demeter?"

      "I wouldn't know," Lila says. "I've never met Demeter — wait, I've spoken to her?" Her mind races. "Willow?"

      The goddess's face doesn't change, but her eyes glimmer with something that could  be approval. Lila's breath catches in her throat — all along, the answer has been right there, below her fingers. 

      "How — " 

       Hecate waves her hand, seemingly pulling an image out of the air. And there stands Willow, her timeless, ageless face, her wispy hair, the dreamy but stern expression. Dressed the same as Lila, though her dress ripples with dirt and her skin is rougher. Lila's mouth drops open, unable to believe her own eyes. 

       "Willow!" She lunges forward, reaching for the dryad. 

       The moment her fingers clasp the dryad's hand,  the image of Willow dissolves into nothing but fragments of air, scattering into the shadows. Lila stands there, stunned into silence for a moment, unable to believe her eyes.  

      "The Mist? What — she was a fragment of the Mist, this whole time?" and that's why Annabeth couldn't see her, why Percy looked so confused. She never existed. 

      (Of course she didn't. As if a dryad would really enjoy Lila's company that much.)

       "Your mother asked me to help her find a way around Zeus's rules," Hecate explains, voice unsympathetic, like Lila hasn't just had her world ripped from around her How much else of what she's seen has been real? "So we created Willow — a dryad named after my sacred tree. She spoke the words your mother gave her. Gave you the seeds that I gave your mother."

      "She was never even alive?" Lila splutters, horror filling her. 

      "Wasn't she?" Hecate hums. "Aren't you alive, Lila?"

      "What in Hades is that supposed to mean? I'm a real, breathing person — she didn't even exist!" Lila's definitely on the verge of losing her mind. She can feel angry tears springing to her eyes.

      Hecate's eyes fill with fury, rage boiling in blue steam. If looks could kill, Lila would be burning into a pile of ash right now — she can feel the weight of the goddess's gaze, the power behind that single gaze. The air in the cave seems to thin, fall a little colder. Lila resists the urge to turn and run. "Careful, child. I am a goddess. It would be a shame to have to kill you, after all that I've invested in this little project of — " she cuts herself off, probably about to tell Lila exactly who her mother is. 

       There's no use in Lila begging for another scrap of information. Instead, she asks: "Why did you invest so much effort into this? All for me? I'm not even powerful, or a prophecy child, or . . . " (. . . important.)

      "Who said you're not a prophecy child?" Hecate wonders, corner of her lip curling up. She forges ahead, before Lila can ask for a better explanation, or — the prophecy itself. If there even is one. Hecate seems like the type to spread misinformation. Lila settles on that answer, figuring that thinking of a prophecy might kill her from the inside. "I like you, a little. You're not arrogant, or proud, and it's refreshing in a hero. But you'll understand — this is all necessary. Your destiny awaits, child."

      "My destiny?" Lila squeaks. She clears her throat, blushing. "I don't understand — " Thankfully her voice comes out with more power this time. But gods, why are they torturing her like this? Can't they just be out with it, and speak the truth? Rip it off like a band-aid. 

     Hecate can definitely read her mind. "It's necessary," the goddess says. "Someone has to save the world."

      "What? I'm supposed to save the world?"

     "Oh, no," Hecate smiles. "Quite the opposite. But it can be avoided — just heed the warnings."

     "The dreams? Those are warnings . . . about what?"

      Hecate studies her face. "From your mother, of course. She's trying to stop what's going to happen."

     Lila's drowning. Her mother, the dreams, Willow? Was any of it real?  "I'm not a toy," she says quietly, blinking back tears. "Why is everyone playing with me like this? I just want — I just wanted to help my friends."

     "It's not a game," Hecate warns, eyes darking. "Don't treat it as such."

     "I know it's not a game. It's my life." Her hands clench into fists, pulling back a sob. Her throat is closing up. "What will I do that's so bad? I'm just me." 

      Hecate smiles. It's not a nice smile — more the sort of smile you would force on at a funeral when consoling the grieving family. "I think you know I cannot say. But I offer you this; advice. Your mother has your best interests at heart. Prophecies do not dictate the future, only guide it. But if you follow the path you have set yourself — your ending will not be a happy one."

      And then the goddess dissolves into mist, and saltwater and air fills Lila's lungs once again. 

      Lila's eyes open, and all she can see is the clear blue sky, stretching for miles and miles. The cool air seeps into her lungs as she gasps, swallowing air faster than she can exhale, breath escaping in a series of hacking coughs. Her stomach is crumbling to dust, her ribs are bruised and shattered, piercing her heart. Everything hurts. The air is toxic and poisonous, battering her already torn body against the ground. She coughs again. 

     "Lila!" Annabeth gapes at her in shock. Lila's vision is blurry, but Annabeth looks half-dead, dressed in a ripped orange shirt and soaking wet jeans. They're both lying on grass, though Lila is far more drenched. Her clothes stick to her tighter than a second skin "L.ila, are you okay?" 

      Lila opens her mouth to say: no, she's definitely not. But her throat closes up and she only chokes on air again, coughing. It feels like she's coughing out her  throat. 

     Annabeth leans forward and passes Lila a bottle of water (where did she find that?). For a moment, Lila tries to shake her head, not more water, but Annabeth is relentless, and eventually she drinks a bit. She does feel better. 

     "Annabeth," Lila says, after about ten minutes of trying to regain her breath. "What's going on? Why —  why were you crying?" (Annabeth's eyes are stained red and puffy.) "What happened?"

     Annabeth punches her shoulder slightly. "You were dead! What the hell did you do?"

     "Dead?" Lila laughs it off. She reaches for Annabeth's hand —  just to make sure she's not an illusion. But even that could be a trick of the Mist. Gods, is anything around her even real? Is she hallucinating again? "Unconscious?"

       "No," Annabeth shakes her head. "The volcano exploded — I managed to get far enough away just in time, so I wasn't harmed. I assumed you and Percy had both gotten away together — then I was just trying to get away, and I found you here, like this. You were dead, Li. You haven't had a pulse for the last thirty minutes, and that's after I found you. The explosion happened hours ago."

      "Hours?" 

      "Yes, hours." Annabeth's eyes are dark and sad. Lila wants to hug her, but they're both too exhausted to move. "I —  did you ever consider that Demeter might not be your mother?"

      Lila frowns. "What?"

     "Remember the prophecy? 'Daughter of destruction drowns'? Doesn't that ring any bells?"

     "Yes, but why — " Realisation hits her like a truck. "You mean I drowned?"

     Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Obviously. But — uh, Lila, we should talk about this when we get back to Camp Half-Blood."

     Lila stares at her. "What? Why are we going back?" she looks around. "Have you asked Percy about this? Where is he?"

     Annabeth says nothing. The grief on her face says enough. 

qotd: opinions on luke?

ew, creep. but we have the same personality type (enfj-t) which is disappointing to me - of all the characters in pjo, im the same as him? seriously?

sorry if the description of drowning is a bit much. it made me uncomfortable while writing it so i figured i should put a warning. 

(People seem confused, so I just wanted to add that Willow is Lila's friend / mentor, she's in some of the earlier chapters and gave Lila magic seeds that she could use I'm case of an emergency. Percy and Annabeth couldn't see her — Lila just found out that she was just the Mist the entire time, created by Hecate.)

also it's my birthday !! woo lmao today was great, took a break from revision for the first time since christmas. plus now im 16 (and i feel no different)

anyway there's a deleted scene with aphrodite and i was wondering if anyone would be interested in me publishing it? it didn't work at the time, but now i'm thinking i might have been better off leaving it in lmao, definitely would've made this chapter easier so i might make , or i might just make a book for deleted scenes from all my fics

lyra