OPHELIA FELT A TEMPEST IN HER CHEST as she stood before the Door of Orpheus. Persephone and Hecate had joined hands and shadow traveled them to its foot, ignoring the anger in Hades' eyes. Ophelia wished they hadn't. She didn't need them.

Where had the Olympians been when she was eight years old, scrambling for food in dumpsters and teaching herself math from workbooks in Borders?

Where had the Olympians been when Alex's mom died? She could bring her back. She had healed Alex with necromancy. She could save them.

A freezing chill filled the air as wind off the River Styx washed over them, waters cascading down the cliff face beside them. She shook herself, focusing on the Door of Orpheus. She had one shot. One shot to save Alex and Kitty.

If you stay, it doesn't matter who dies. You can save them.

Ophelia clenched her fists. Eris couldn't quiet comprehend that they were done. Eris was a goddess like Hecate and Aphrodite and Athena. She didn't need her help.

I can help you. I was trying to help you!

A warm hand rested on her arm. Alex. "We need you."

Ophelia looked at him on her right. They had no water to clean him up, no spare clothes for his bloodied rags. She could see where his tears had washed streaks of grime off his pale face. Never in her life had she seen or heard him so exhausted.

Maybe she couldn't beat Hades. Maybe this fight could not be won.

She looked at the door. The darkness beyond the threshold felt different from the darkness of the Underworld. Colder, drier. As Ophelia closed her eyes and tried to connect with the shadows, she shivered. It felt almost like when she shadow-traveled.

Alex slipped his hand in hers. He gave it a small squeeze.

Maybe she couldn't beat Hades. Or maybe she could. But as she looked at Alex and Kitty beside him, she realized the cost would be too high.

"You understand the terms," Hades said.

Ophelia turned around. When had he arrived? On his head he wore his Crown of Darkness. It radiated power. A shiver ran down her spine as she looked at it. Beautiful.

But she nodded. "I do."

"Swear upon the River Styx," Alex said. He looked at Hades. "If we reach the surface and Ophelia has not looked back, we're free from the Underworld."

The god's face contorted between a sneer and a smirk. But he nodded. "I swear it. I swear also that should she fail, all of you and the children of the betrayers will be bound to the Underworld as I see fit."

All around them, the air shifted. Ophelia felt the Mist grow heavier, thicker as the oath was sworn. Everything hung in the balance.

She would get them to the surface. She would save Alex. She would save her family.

After that… Ophelia glanced around at the shadows.

You are welcome at any time in Tartarus, my dear. The shadows stir.

Ophelia felt the ground beneath her feet shift. A tiny crack formed in the dark stone. Tartarus.

"Are you ready?" Alex said.

She took a deep breath. Was she ready? She didn't want to go topside to be stripped of power whenever the sun beat down upon her. She didn't want the scorn of her failure to hang over her head. She wanted none of the punishment that no doubt waited for her on Mount Olympus.

But Kitty had the Lyre. Alex bore the wounds of her greed. So she gave his hand one quick squeeze, released him, and stepped forward.

"Play the Lyre," she said.

Ophelia did not turn around. She continued to stare into the darkness. The moment Kitty strummed a chord across its strings, she felt the difference. The shadow lifted. The gloom cleared and to her amazement, a steep set of stairs could just be glimpsed beyond the threshold.

Don't look back. She just needed to not look back.

Ophelia stepped forward. She put her hands on the walls for stability. Water seeped from the stones. Every uneven step felt like ice as she made her way forward.

Where are you going?

You can't leave us!

Come back—

No. Ophelia tried to block the voices out again. They wanted to confuse her. They wanted to control her. No one controlled her!

Ophelia placed one foot in front of the other. She could not look back but she could look down. Her ash covered sneakers struggled to find purchase on the wet stone. Wind blew through the tunnel faster than she would've expected.

And the tunnel never ended.

You saved Alex from death, Ophelia.

Why does death matter now?

You could save his mother.

You could save us.

You could save everyone.

Ophelia let out a scream as the wind rocked her and her foot slipped. A sharp stone on the wall slit her palm. Clutching her hand to her chest, Ophelia cried.

She wanted the voices to leave. She wanted the shadows at her command. She wanted Alex's lips against her own.

Luke had it half right. They always had it half right. They didn't need the Olympians. They gained justice through rebellion. But they didn't need the Titans to replace them.

You understand now.

We don't need them, Ophelia.

You only need us.

The Olympians had killed the Titans. The Titans had killed the Protogenoi. Children overthrowing parents ran in the family. The Half-Bloods need to organize. All of them against the gods. They could do it. They could rule.

The steps continued on. Never ending, dark and wet, Ophelia lost track of time. Dark thoughts swirled in her head. She wanted to go back. She wanted to free the half-bloods. They needed each other and no one else.

But then the image of Alex's half-dead body thrown at her feet flashed across her eyes. So much blood. So many cuts and scrapes. Hands covered in blood. His own blood.

He had pulled away from her. Ophelia felt a lump in her throat as she tried to forget his reaction to her healing. If it could be called that.

Alex had flinched away at her face. He had never looked at her with fear in his eyes. But as he'd clawed himself towards Kitty, she recognized that expression.

He's right to fear your power.

But she didn't want him to fear her. She had never wanted this. How had they gotten here? Why were they climbing an endless staircase to oblivion?

The Tyche girl. That's why.

She dropped you.

She hates you.

Ophelia felt tears in her eyes. Kitty had chosen herself so many times. In training, in battle. She still remembered the pain in her back when she fallen from the climbing wall, Kitty choosing to reach the top instead of offer a hand.

It's as we told you. She hates you.

No. No! Kitty didn't hate her. Kitty had the same drive to win this quest as she herself. They just had different ideas of what winning meant. Kitty, like Alex, could fight only half the battle. Ophelia could save the living and the dead. She could only save the living.

And she had given her everything for this quest. The River Lethe had claimed a victim because Ophelia had been busy struggling with her own powers while Eris tried to kill her boyfriend.

I did it for you, Ophelia. To show you your power. You could have brought him back from the dead had you really tried.

But Ophelia clenched her jaw and took the steps faster. She would never listen to Eris again. Even had she been able to bring Alex back from the dead, he had to suffer the agony of dying.

Death will not matter for much longer, Ophelia. And if you help us, we can control Death even sooner.

A cold anger washed over her at Eris's words. The goddess wanted to control her. They all wanted to control her. She didn't want to be controlled. She wanted…

Ophelia didn't know what she wanted.

She knew one thing. She wanted to save her family.

The shadows lightened. Ophelia could see more clearly, breathe cleaner air. She looked up. Far above, she saw sunlighr. As she held back tears, her throat tight and lips quivering, she knew in that moment that she could only save half the Half-Bloods.

She didn't want to go out there. She wanted to stay here. She wanted to stay out of the light. It hurt so much. She felt so weak beneath the rays of Apollo's chariot. Night brought relief. But down in the Underworld she had night eternal, and power beyond anything above.

Turn around.

Turn back around.

Stay with us.

So many voices.

Don't go.

Come back to us.

If you stay behind, you will challenge Death himself.

Stay.

Too many voices!

Come back.

Ophelia grabbed her head. Too many to count. Too many to understand. They spoke in harsh whispers and pleading cries. And Eris. Eris's voice always rose above the rest.

If she stayed, she would have to work with the goddess who tried to murder Alex.

Ophelia looked up at the light. It blinded her, heat coming through the opening in waves as she hesitated at the threshold. Through a haze of mist she saw Central Park, New York City. It seemed about midday. Tourists wandered about, taking photos and clogging up joggers and dog walkers.

They all loved the sun. It rejuvenated them. But if she stepped out that doorway…

Ophelia stepped forward.

Stop!

New York City on a late summer day smacked her in the face. Ophelia felt her magic evaporate from her body. She couldn't stop her sobs as she fell to her knees. Powerless. Utterly powerless. Ophelia cried into her hands, knees in the grass.

She had nothing here. Ophelia sank forward, overcome with exhaustion. Forehead near the grass she couldn't stop her weeping. Rocking back and forth, she tried to remind herself that with twilight, she would feel the shadows again. Her magic would return. She would not always be helpless. But beneath the sun… it took all the strength she had left not to turn back.

Alex would come.

He had to come. He wouldn't leave her alone. Not now, not when she could do nothing.

He would be here.

He had to be here.

He would.

He would.

Ophelia tried to breathe between tears. Her lungs heaved. Her exposed skin tingled with the pain of a thousand pins and needles. Where was he?

A warm hand rested on her shoulder. Ophelia gasped another cry, not daring to turn. She had come this far. She would not damn them all now.

"O," Alex said. He gripped her tighter. "Ophelia we're out. We're safe."

No. No, what if this was a trick. A play by Eris. The goddess of discord would do that. She would.

"I don't believe you."

Alex moved into view. He knelt down in front of her, clothes ripped and face dirty. Not saying another word, he took her face in his calloused hands. He tasted too much like blood. Tears rolled down her eyes but she pushed into the kiss. The warmth Alex brought her drowned out the sun.

He was here. They were here. She had no magic, no power here at all. But she had him. And they had the Lyre.

"Come on," Alex whispered. His fingers lingered against her cheeks for a moment, brushing down her neck. "Let's end this."

She accepted his help off the ground. Kitty stood, frowning. What did she remember? Anything at all?

She handed the lyre to Alex. Then she turned around. "You can lean on me," Kitty offered. "If you want."

As sweat pooled on her brow and her skin continued to sting beneath the sun, Ophelia accepted Kitty's hand. Alex had the Lyre now. They had to get to the Empire State Building. They had to hope the equinox hadn't passed. If it had, everything would be for nothing.

And If everything they'd suffered amounted to nothing in the end, the gods would regret the day she'd ever gone to the Underworld.