“Sorry!” said Deion. “I promise I didn’t listen!” Then he frowned. “Well, I only heard the end part. Was thatactuallyyour father?”
Nico nodded. “Yeah. Made a rare appearance.”
“Wow,” Deion said, casting his eyes downward. “I hope I get to meet my mother someday. She’s Aurora, goddess of the dawn? Which is weird, since I’m usually a late sleeper. What did you guys talk about?”
“Uh…”
“Never mind,” said Deion quickly. “I have a bad habit of saying whatever I’m thinking.”
“No, that’s okay. I admire it! Better than keeping everything to yourself.”
“I guess. Yazan says it’s going to get me in trouble someday.”
Nico couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Maybe. But you’ll learn to balance it. And there’s nothing wrong with a little trouble.” His brow furrowed. “Wait, why were you on Temple Hill, anyway?”
“Oh, right!” Deion’s eyes widened. “Will needs you. Savannah told us you went this way, so I came to find you.”
“Do you know what’s up?”
“Someone showed up at the entrance to camp,” he said gravely. “They claim to know where Hazel is.”
Hazel was exhausted.
She plopped down on the nearest bench, her breathing labored, and wiped the sweat from her brow. “I need a break,” she wheezed.
Asterion knelt and scooped up a twisted chunk of Celestial bronze Hazel had just summoned from the earth.
“Please rest, my friend,” he said. “I will get this to the drakons.”
He lumbered off, and Hazel let relief wash over her. Ever since Naomi Solace had left, Hazel had been conjuring precious metals to be melted down by the baby drakon—who, fortunately, could breathe fire—and then fashioned into weapons and tools by a collective of Cyclopes and telkhines.
As far as Hazel knew, this was the first time Cyclopes and telkhines had ever collaborated, since usually they were rivals in the niche market of magical blacksmiths. Even without a proper forge, they’d already produced some amazing things. The Laistrygonian giants were presently using iron shovels tipped with emerald blades to try digging underneath the boundary wall. So far they’d been unsuccessful, but at least it had given everyone something to focus on. It had gotten them working together rather than staying in their isolated groups and thinking about who they would have to kill and eat once the food ran out.
On the downside, the foodwasrunning out. The increased activity burned more calories and oxygen, and additional mythics kept arriving. Hazel just hoped that the prison didn’t have a floor, or that the walls didn’t extend all the way down to the Underworld. That seemed like the sort of cruel joke Pirithous would play.
Quinoa fluttered up to her, holding a small bowl made of sapphire. “I got you some water,” he said. Then, in a quieter voice: “There isn’t much left. We’re down to one working fountain now.”
That was not great news. She was tempted to tell Quinoa to save the water, but she didn’t want to rebuff his kindness. Also, she was thirsty. “Thank you, my friend.”
She drank it down in a few gulps. A dull ache settled in behind her eyes. She’d been pushing herself a little too hard, but shehadto. No one else could do what she could. She wanted to feel useful, to prove to the others that she was here to help.
Still, most of the mythics had avoided her. She was the only demigod in this enclosure, and aside from her friends, they all viewed her with suspicion. She couldn’t blame them. Demigods like her had been hunting and killing their kind for millennia.
So she summoned gem after gem, chunk after chunk of metal ore, hoping she could begin to win them over.
She handed the empty bowl back to Quinoa. “How’s it going out there?”
“We have forged many shovels and trowels,” he said. “Now we’re working on knives and spears for those who wish to wield them.”
Hazel frowned. It didn’t seem like a great idea to arm a bunch of suspicious mythics who were so close to turning on one another. Then again, she was the only one who had arrived here with a sword, so maybe it wasn’t her place to judge.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said. “Our main goal is to get out of here.”
“Hmph.” The karpos scowled. “My main goal is to bring some emerald trowels back to the kindergartners so we can start our classroom garden. But I guess getting out of here works, too.” Quinoa grumbled to himself as he wandered off.
Had Hazel done something wrong? She wasn’t sure—Quinoa was naturally grumpy, so maybe he was just being himself. She lay flat on the bench as her heart rate ramped up.
Calm down, she told herself.He’s not mad at you. And you’ll figure this out.
