KITTY DIDN'T FEEL PROUD that for about thirty seconds she seriously considered throwing a temper tantrum. She just wanted to plop down at the base of this dead tree and refuse to move until they promised to go straight to the Door of Orpheus.

The Underworld sucked. Kitty had tried to find something here she liked, but the dark and the Dead and towering palace of Hades, though aesthetically she wanted to appreciate it, just reminded her of her imminent death. Ambrosia had healed her cuts and bruises but it couldn't heal the gaping hole in her emotions.

She'd stayed quiet since they'd arrived in this godsforsaken place. It seemed only fair. They wouldn't be here if she hadn't gambled with Ophelia's life.

Kitty wondered what message Zeus's crackling thunderbolt had drowned out in the battle before the Haunted Mansion. Her mom had started to speak. But then lightning had flashed and the booming echo of thunder had filled her ears.

Then she'd hesitated. Kitty kicked a pebble down the poorly defined path they'd found through the Fields of Asphodel. Ophelia led the way now. Not Alex.

It should've been Alex. Kitty only noticed how tightly she'd gripped the Lyre of Orpheus when her knuckles began to hurt. Not that Ophelia didn’t know how to lead. She’d been all but in charge since they’d dropped down here.

But Alex should’ve led them. He always led them. Kitty wanted to go on this quest for him, not for Ophelia. Looking up from the lyre, she watched the way his feet dragged on the path just behind his girlfriend. His pilfered Disney shirt had stained brown with blood and ash. Kitty couldn’t look away from the shredded tee.

The first time she’d met him, he’d elbowed Travis to the face and shoved him to the dirt in the middle of the arena. She remembered it clearly. Luke had stood between the boys, arms crossed over his chest. She’d tried not to stare at him. But the scar had been fresh back then, with an ugly bruising encroaching on his otherwise aesthetically pleasing face.

To his left, Alex had worn brown leather armor over his bright orange camp tee-shirt and wielded a wooden sword blunted at the tip. Kitty had marveled at the way he stood poised like an expert across from the lanky, overconfident brown haired boy she now knew as Travis Stoll. But then, she’d marveled at everything in Camp Half-Blood when she’d first arrived.

When Lee Fletcher dropped her off with the rest of Cabin 11, she’d been introduced as “another unclaimed.” Travis had shared a short laugh with his brother. Alex hadn’t taken kindly to it.

Luke hadn’t stepped between the two twelve year-olds when Alex had attacked Travis. He’d used the wooden sword at first, but it quickly devolved into a brawl in the dirt after he’d thrown an elbow and given Travis a nose-bleed. When the dust had settled, Alex stood bruised and out of breath, shirt torn but a playful smirk on his face as Travis scuttled away.

She hadn’t been the unclaimed kid for long. Tyche had claimed her that night. It had taken until the end of summer for Travis and Connor to finally speak to her again without glaring. But Kitty hadn’t minded. She’d stuck with Alex in training, learning all about being a demigod of Cabin 11.

Kitty tried to ignore the oppressive shadows all around them as they marched single file through the Fields of Asphodel. The Dead receded or disappeared with each step Ophelia took. Kitty wished it made her feel better. But it didn't.

Every step forward through the Fields of Asphodel filled her chest with a heavy chill. Kitty hadn't expected Alex to kneel before Hades. Ophelia yanking him to his feet had caught her even more off guard. When had she become so outspoken against them? She'd pulled him to his feet in silence but the action spoke volumes.

Kitty didn't want to stay down here any longer than necessary. The golden Lyre needed to be returned to Olympus. Apollo probably had a dozen songs he wanted to record; maybe he'd release a new album. She didn't care. He could annoy the other Olympians all he wanted. But they had a job to do, to save the living. Like Alex.

She'd seen it in his eyes. After word got round of Luke's betrayal, he'd withdrawn. No more pranks on Silena. No more stealing Clarisse's tennis shoes. He had stopped training with Travis and Connor.

He spent all his time with Chris. Kitty had joined them sometimes. She missed playing poker with them. Now all they wanted to do was slice training dummies in half or run the I obstacle course.

Kitty had joked with Alex that if they trained any harder she might have thought they were training for war like Achilles and Odysseus. He'd laughed, an odd look on his face she couldn't place.

When she'd woken up and found him gone a few weeks later, she realized she'd been right. He'd gone off to war. The note tucked under his pillow had said as much. But it had been an invitation too.

Join him. Join Luke. Join Chris. Why should she stand with Cabin 11 and the campers who had scorned her for being a child of a minor god? They planned to build a better world. Luke had told him as much. Luke had always known best. He would free them from the gods who had abandoned their children.

Kitty had cried that day. She'd wrapped herself in her tattered blanket, curled up against the wall on his bunk, and sobbed. They'd only just celebrated her thirteenth birthday. He'd welcomed her to their teenage years. How could he leave? They were family.

She didn't love the gods. But as Kitty looked up from the black ash and shale path to see Ophelia striding forward with her head high and fists tight, she knew she didn't hate them either. Parents didn't pay attention to their children. Godly parents, mortal parents, didn't matter. Kitty had never met a parent she liked.

But they had each other. Kitty looked at Alex again. Eighteen, almost nineteen. A spitting image of Luke from the back except that his hair hung looser and he had a couple inches on his half brother. She'd never regretted speaking up for him at Thalia's Tree.

If Travis hadn't been so flustered with preparing for the incoming army, he might've punched Alex square across the jaw. But Kitty had seized an opportunity to slip between the current counselor of Cabin 11 and Cabin 11's prodigal son. Michael Yew hadn't lowered his bow, though, until Chiron had arrived.

She'd said nothing to Alex. She'd just looked at him, and at the girl just behind him. He'd stood covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and sweat. His shirt looked more like ripped cloth than an actual piece of clothing. Maybe a harpy or three had gotten to him.

The girl hadn't looked any better. The air felt cold near her. When Alex introduced her as Ophelia Byrd, daughter of Hecate, she'd understood why.

Michael had wanted to shoot them. Travis had seconded that but been called away by Lee Fletcher to help organize the Hermes archers. Chiron had just stood quietly, mulling over the information Alex had brought about army size, the Labyrinth, and their desperate escape they'd made after realizing Luke had lost his humanity in the quest for revenge.

So she'd spoken up. She said they were worth the gamble. Every sword helped.

That gamble had worked. Kitty frowned. That one had worked, but the gamble before the Haunted Mansion had not.

Thanks to that gamble, they were now wandering up a hill to the base of a giant grey concrete overpass ramp where Daedalus had set up his worksite. Ophelia still led the way.

Kitty looked around more thoroughly this time. Past the perimeter of orange traffic cones, no ghosts wandered around. Instead, weaving in and around the piles of rocks, bags of concrete, and other building materials Kitty saw workers.

They couldn't have been very old. Most had thick muscles, perfect for the job they'd apparently been tasked with. They carried around supplies like drones in an ant colony. And as Kitty wandered a bit away from Ophelia and Alex, she realized why they were there.

She recognized one. Ford, son of Hephaestus. Pale skin covered in dirt, brown eyes tinged with red from the dirt and ash of the Underworld, he moved one bag of concrete after another.

After a moment, she realized all of the workers were Hephaestus's kids. And not just his children. The  few she recognized had been campers once upon a time, before they'd bailed and gone to fight for Kronos.

Now here they were. No inventing, no tinkering. Just carrying rocks and dirt for all eternity. Kitty frowned.

"You're going to take us to the Fields of Punishment," Ophelia said.

Kitty turned around. She stood next to Alex, both with arms crossed over their chests in front of Daedalus. Daedalus, who Kitty kept mentally correcting from Quintus, didn't seem enthused.

"Why should I do that?"

"Because you owe us," Ophelia said. "Consider it recompense for your Labyrinth stealing the lives of my family."

Daedalus shook his head. "Do you not see me serving my time now? You think I wish to build overpasses for all eternity?"

"It can become a lot worse—"

"Just show us the way, Daedalus," Alex said. He sounded tired, shuffling from foot to foot as he stood slightly behind his girlfriend. "Then you can return to this."

"I need to see it." Ophelia paused. The air pressure dropped and a cold breeze ruffled her hair. "The sooner I see it, the sooner we can finish our quest."

"And the sooner we get out of your way," Alex added.

Daedalus just huffed. Shuffling his feet as he watched them closely, Kitty shivered at the way he smirked at her. Quintus hadn't been the worst stand-in trainer at Camp Half-Blood but seeing him standing here among the dead gave her the creeps. She didn't need that reminder of her mortality.

"All right," Daedalus said. He turned back to Ophelia. "You won't like it, child. You're sure you want directions?"

"I have never been more sure," she said.

Kitty looked at her standing there, not an ounce of fatigue in her tall stance. Her left palm sat on her dagger in its sheath while her right hand tightened into a tight fist. She'd never seen Ophelia stand so straight before. It reminded her of something but she couldn't figure out what.

As Kitty moved a bit closer, the same chill breeze blew some of Ophelia's dirty blonde hair away from her face. Kitty paused. Where the black cord of her Hecate necklace had once lay, now her neck was bare. Instead, the faintest tendrils of shadow wisped around her head.

A shiver ran down her spine. Kitty knew what Ophelia reminded her of. She reminded her of the gods. Not in stature, but in standing: tall, straight, and expression hard as marble. Kitty glanced at Daedalus. He met her gaze but said nothing.

So she looked at Alex. This couldn't be a good idea. Going to the Fields of Punishment couldn't end well. What could they gain from seeing the dead? Kitty needed him to lead. She needed him. They all did.

But he stood beside Ophelia, shoulders sagging just a bit, and refused her gaze. Kitty took a deep breath. She opened her mouth. Then she closed it. What could she say that would not be turned into an accusation? Why should they listen to her? She'd gambled with their lives.

And she'd lost.