OPHELIA WASN'T ABOUT TO LET Alex have all the fun. Though listening to elevator music for 600 floors almost made her regret ditching him, especially as the threat of death awaited her at the bottom. She didn't doubt he'd chew her out for it later, after this was all done. If they survived.

They'd survive. She and Alex had been through too much to be defeated now.

Evening revitalized her strength. It still hurt to breathe, but not so much that she couldn't work through it. After spending all day in the care of the medics, the least she could do was spend the night doing what she did best. The shadows would aid her.

With a jolt, the elevator slowed at level 5. Ophelia's stomach churned. She hadn't realized how fast she'd been descending. Ophelia unsheathed her dagger when she passed the third level. The serrated black blade gave off a dim glow.

A muffled explosion rocked the elevator car. Ophelia twisted the blade in her hand. The tight black leather wrap of the handle molded to her grip. A few heart beats later and the doors slid open, flooding her with chaos, and the stench of blood.

Hurrying down the long lobby of the Empire State Building felt like it took a hundred minutes, not a hundred seconds. She could hear screams and the shrieking of monsters beyond the shattered doors. The crimson glow from the blood-red sunset framed Kronos's dark forces.

Only chaos described the scene that met Ophelia beyond the threshold. Bodies lay strewn about, the bodies of her fellow campers. Two Hunters, the last of their arrows notched, stood behind a smoking, burned metal corpse of a car. One girl, a blonde who couldn't have been older, at least visually, than thirteen, had a gash down her shoulder blade.

Connor and Travis lay knocked out against the building. Ophelia couldn't speak. She saw Clarisse not far off frozen in ice. Other sons and daughters of Ares lay dead or unconscious around the perimeter of the entrance way. One had a spear in her chest. Ophelia looked away from the unseeing green eyes of Ares's daughter.

Kronos's forces formed a wide semicircle beyond the carnage. At the apex stood a vanguard of demigods. Ophelia recognized several of them. Jenna, daughter of Morpheus. Silvia, Ophelia's half sister through Hecate. Both held violet battle standards. Between them, a tall sixteen year old with an eye patch. Ethan Nakamura. Nemesis's son.

Behind him, tall and proud with golden glowing eyes, stood Kronos. Stood Luke. Ophelia knew she could never understand Alex's love for his half-brother. But she had befriended Luke too. Four years ago, he'd saved her. He'd given her a family. Hecate had led her to his side and for the first time in half a decade, she'd had friends.

The last two Hunters of Artemis shouted, loosing their arrows. No one in Kronos's army even flinched. The arrows hit a ward conjured by Silvia and bounced harmless to the ground. Ophelia didn't have time to react before the Hunters vaulted over the car, trying to reach Kronos in a futile charge.

They fell to the ground before they reached the enemy line, a dozen arrows in their chests each. Anger filled her like a cold fire. She could feel the shadows twisting around her body, smoke tendrils radiating from hands, her feet.

"If it isn't the rogue daughter of Hecate." Kronos, Luke, said. In the fading light, his scar almost seemed to glow. "Come to join us again, Ophelia Byrd?"

Cold shivers ran down her spine. Every demigod, dracaenae, laistrygonian, and hellhound trained weapons and spells on her position. Words failed her. She just took a step forward, knife up in a defensive stance. Her ribs ached but she ignored it. She bit her cheek, trying to distract herself.

"My lord, if I may." Ethan stepped forward, mirroring Ophelia.

She lifted her dagger a bit higher. Smoke wreathed her body. Ophelia still couldn't speak, couldn't form words. This would be it. She was going to die. But maybe, if she could shadow-travel directly behind Kronos and drive the dagger into his neck…

Kronos flashed a crooked smile. "Yes, please, make yourself useful for once, Nakamura."

You're going to lose.

Ophelia flinched at Eris's voice. It echoed through her mind like in an amphitheater. It was true though. She could maybe beat Ethan. They'd trained a few times in the weeks leading up to her defection with Alex. The boy had skills with a sword that far outshined hers but there was more to fighting than swinging a blade. Even if she killed Ethan, though, she'd never get to Kronos.

Maybe—

Ethan rushed her. On instinct, Ophelia focused on the shadows. In the blink of an eye, she reappeared behind him. But Ethan spun, sword nearly missing her arm.

"You don't have to fight for him," Ophelia said. She raised her left hand, speaking Ancient Greek, and summoned a shimmering ward. As his sword crashed into it, she flinched and stepped back. "He killed Luke. What do you think he's going to do to you?"

But Ethan just shook his head. "I'm my mother's son. I'll bring balance to the gods." Another swing, and Ophelia staggered back, her ward cracking. Ethan pushed harder. "You abandoned your oath. You deserve what's coming."

Ophelia winced as he slammed his sword into her shimmering ward once again. It shattered into a million pieces. Her arm ached. Even with the help of the night, her injuries made her head spin. Pain clouded her vision.

Night betrays you.

Feinting left, Ophelia leapt at his face. She tried to grab the eye patch, to drive her blackened, shadow-touched fingers into his old wounds, but he sidestepped. With an angry shout, he drove the hilt of his sword directly into her ribs.

Screaming, Ophelia fell to the ground. Black spots floated across her vision. She couldn't move. She could barely breathe. Little bits of rubble dug into her back.

Whispers just on the edge of hearing filled her mind. They spoke her name. They beckoned her closer.

Ophelia flipped herself into her stomach. She tried to stand. She fought for a handhold but her nails just scraped against the concrete. Blood filled her mouth mixing with salty tears.

There! Her left hand finally found her dagger. Every inch, every flex sent searing pain all across her body. But she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop.

Hecate had taught her that. Failure was not an option. She had to do this. It had to be on her own. With a groan, Ophelia tried to roll onto her back again.

A cold boot pressed deeply against her right leg stopped her attempt. Mid twist, she screamed, vision clouding again. Voices filled her mind. Spirits of the Underworld? Or the forces of Kronos? In her pain, Ophelia couldn't tell. She couldn't even breathe.

The ground rumbled. Ophelia's ear pressed against the concrete, the side of her face scraped and bleeding. She tried to move. She couldn't. The boot kept her pinned.

The rumbling grew louder. Hooves pounded against the ground. The pressure from the boot lessened. With all the strength she had left, Ophelia twisted her body and pushed him off. Ethan tumbled out of the way just as a flash of white barreled towards them.

Ophelia saw four hooves plant themselves between herself and Kronos's army. She heard a voice. Familiar. Who was it?

Her head swam with images. Forcing herself to crawl away, she pushed through the agony of shards of glass, metal, and shattered rock digging into her forearms. Gods, Alex was going to kill her for this.

Kronos will kill them all.

"Shut up," she said, voice cracking and barely audible.

Ophelia clawed her way towards the building. She could see Connor and Travis, chests moving up and down but eyes closed. Blood trickled down their dirt covered pale skin from gashes on their foreheads.

Curling up in a ball against the building, Ophelia tried to make sense of the world. Rushing footsteps filled the air, and the white centaur… Chiron, it had to be Chiron… faced down the armies of Kronos by himself, sword at his side and bow bent.

The last traces of reds and golds painted the sky.

Waves of nausea crashed over her. She couldn't move. Her body hurt so much that she felt like she was on fire. Ophelia focused on the deepening darkness.

The Underworld is waiting for you.

Ophelia flinched. Breathe in. Let the darkness fill your veins, her mother had told her. Night has blessed you.

A bright light flashed. Someone screamed. Chiron crashed into the building a few feet away. Concrete and rebar groaned and split, burying the centaur.

Ophelia pulled herself up. A familiar chill took hold, filling her lungs with fresh air as if for the first time in months, she could really breathe. Her vision cleared. Annabeth stood clutching her arm, screaming at Percy and Kronos. The Titan lord drove his scythe between them. Only their quick reactions saved both Percy and Annabeth from joining the dead in Elysium.

A hellhound's howl cut through the night. Ophelia took another deep breath, her ribs no longer sending waves of agonizing pain through her body. The nausea subsided, slowly.

"Mrs. O'Leary?" Percy said, calling out through the night.

The advance of the armies of Kronos wavered. Ophelia could see them all more clearly now; two Hyperboreans, dracaenae, Ethan leading the demigods. She pushed herself until she sat up straight. Eyes widening, she watched as the enemy forces split down the middle, shuffling and hissing and turning away their faces.

Percy called out again. "Nico?"

Ophelia watched as Mrs. O'Leary bounded down the open space, giant black tail wagging hard enough to have knocked someone's head clean off. Percy smiled. But Ophelia could only watch, wide eyed, as little Nico di Angelo strolled unhindered through the ranks of Kronos's monsters, dressed in black armor with a polished skull helm.

"Got your message. Is it too late to join the party?"

"Son of Hades." Kronos shifted his feet. Spitting on the ground, he gestured with his sword. "Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?"

Nico raised his own sword, a glowing black Stygian iron blade which made the monsters all take a half step back. "Your death," he said, "would be great for me."

"I'm immortal, you fool! I have escaped Tartarus. You have no business here, and no chance to live."

Nico stared ahead at Kronos, unphased. "I don't agree."

The ground trembled. Ophelia looked at her palms, expecting to find weeping cuts and splinters of debris. But the pads of her fingers had healed. The cuts closed up as she looked down at them through the darkness.

A splitting noise drowned out the whimpers of monsters. Ophelia watched cracks splinter along the ground, one coming close to her like the edge of a spiderweb. She closed her eyes. She had never felt so alive. With every breath, she grew stronger.

When she opened her eyes, Ophelia saw skeletons climbing up, out of the ground. She'd seen Nico summon the dead at the Battle of the Labyrinth. But this, the sheer power required to call so many forth would've killed him.

Ophelia stood up off the ground. Debris crunched under her boots.

"Hold your ground!" Kronos glanced around, watching his army fidget and prepare to flee. "The dead are no match for us."

The sky turned black. Ophelia couldn't help but smile. No voices filled her mind, no Goddess of Strife. Shadows twisted around her, the Underworld itself bringing strength. Picking her way around in silence, she tried to reach the dead. She needed to be with them.

A harsh, deep war horn cut through the lingering shadows. Ophelia looked up. The skeletal army split. Down their ranks rumbled an obsidian and gold chariot pulled by horses of living, twisting shadows. Standing tall, armored in black and red, stood Hades, king is the Underworld. Behind him, two women also wearing battle gear looked at Kronos in annoyance.

The air around her turned ice cold. Ophelia found herself transfixed by the ever-changing helm upon Hades's head. Beautiful, dark. Wreathed in shadow.

She wanted it.

Ophelia couldn't look away. Hades's mouth moved. He must've been speaking. But with each of her now-slow heartbeat, the helm changed form, each seemingly more wondrous than the next. A wreath of dead roses, a crown of shadows, an iron circlet, human bones.

He doesn't deserve it, does he?

A hellhound's breath on her neck ripped Ophelia back to the present. She found Mrs. O'Leary sniffing in her blonde hair, Nico beside her. They didn't speak. He just watched her, silent.

Kronos narrowed his eyes at Hades. "I don't have time for this."

He slammed his scythe into the ground. Sparks flew, and a fissure shot out in both directions. The entire Empire State Building became cut off from the armies, a shimmering field of force sealing them in.

At once, car engines came alive and pedestrians woke up. Ophelia looked around. A thousand skeletons and an army of monsters had to be obscured by the Mist. But still, it must be terrifying to be in the presence of such undead. Screams punctuated her thought. The mortals ran.

Hades charged the barrier. But he glanced off it instantly, chariot overturning in the process. Ophelia could practically feel the anger radiating off of him. As he, Persephone, and Demeter righted themselves, he shouted for his army to attack.

Ophelia glanced around, trying to figure out who to help first. Her gaze fell on the monsters, and one she hated in particular. She closed her eyes and shadow-traveled towards the dracaena queen.

Appearing right behind her, Ophelia ducked low and sliced through the queen's left serpent tail. She howled, swinging her spear around at unnatural speeds. Ophelia rolled away as the queen stumbled to the ground.

"Mom!"

Ophelia turned around. Percy, beyond the barrier, screamed. She followed his gaze as a gun went off. A woman, pale with dark hair, held a shotgun aloft as a laistrygonian roared, falling back and gripping his face. Nico stabbed it through the back. It crumpled into dust.

The air shifted. She could feel movement displace the shadows and mist around her. With a swing of her Stygian iron dagger, Ophelia watched the queen of the dracaena, hands now only a few inches from Ophelia's throat, finally wither into ash and dust.

She caught sight of Hades again. The helm on his head, the sword in his hand, they radiated a cold she could not look away from. Ophelia inched a bit closer.

Why do they get the riches?

Ophelia tried to ignore Eris. But there was that crown. Beautiful, haunting.

Falling back towards Nico where he tried to defend the mortals, Ophelia couldn't help her smile. Each time she stepped near a crack in the earth, another refreshing wave of cold washed over her.

Something shining caught her attention. Ophelia looked past Nico. On a windowsill, untouched by the battle, sat a golden apple. She moved over to it. It radiated with Mist. But when she grabbed it, it stayed solid in her fingers. Engraved in its side, scrawled by beautiful penmanship, read "To the one most worthy."

An explosion rocked the street behind her. Ophelia placed the apple down, hesitating for a moment, and turned back to battle. She'd be back for it. But for now, she had an army to defeat.