Home was a two-bedroom apartment in Queens that smelled of lavender detergent and antiseptic.
It wasn't a palace, but to me, it was a sanctuary. The windows had heavy blackout curtains—my request. My mother, Maya Vance, thought it was for my "photosensitivity." In reality, it was because direct sunlight felt like static noise scratching against my brain, while darkness felt like a soft blanket.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The silence was heavy, the good kind of heavy.
"Sol?"
My mom walked out of the kitchen. She was wearing her blue scrubs, her hair pulled back in a tired ponytail. She looked exhausted. We were a family of tired people. Hers was from pulling double shifts at Mount Sinai; mine was from existing as a cosmological anomaly.
"Hey, Ma," I said, dropping my duffel bag.
She rushed over and hugged me. She smelled like hospital coffee and bleach. I went stiff for a second—physical contact always felt intense because I could feel the vibration of her heartbeat against my chest—but I hugged her back.
"You're early," she said, pulling back to look at me. She reached for my sunglasses. "Can I...?"
"Yeah," I said softly. "It's dark enough."
I took off the shades.
My mom didn't flinch. She was the only human being who could look into my Vantablack eyes without recoil. She framed my face with her hands, staring into the abyss where my pupils should be.
"They look deeper today," she whispered, a line of worry appearing between her brows. "Are you taking your iron supplements? The doctor said the anemia contributes to the hallucinations."
"I'm taking them, Ma," I lied. Iron didn't help. The only thing that helped was hibernating. "Just a long trip. Bus broke down."
"You look shattered, baby. Go to bed. I made stew, it's in the fridge. I have to leave for the night shift in twenty minutes."
"You're working tonight?" I asked. I felt a pang of guilt. "I just got back."
"Mortgage won't pay itself," she smiled sadly, kissing my forehead. "Sleep. We'll talk in the morning. I want to hear all about Yancy, and why the headmaster sent that email about 'behavioral issues'."
"It was a misunderstanding," I said. "Percy caused a scene. I was just... collateral damage."
"You and that boy," she sighed. "Go. Sleep."
I didn't need to be told twice. I walked into my room, which was essentially a cave. I had taped cardboard over the windows behind the curtains. It was pitch black.
To anyone else, it would be terrifying. To me, it was like stepping into a warm bath.
I didn't even change out of my clothes. I flopped onto the bed, kicked off my shoes, and let the darkness claim me.
The Dream
Usually, my dreams were empty. Just a void of recharging static.
Tonight, there was a visitor.
I was standing on a floor made of obsidian glass. Above me, there were no stars, just a swirling, endless expanse of violet and black nebula. The air was cold, but it didn't bite. It caressed.
"Little Shadow."
The voice didn't come from a person. It came from everywhere. It vibrated in my marrow.
I turned around. Standing there was a woman. She was twenty feet tall, though her size seemed to fluctuate. Her dress was woven from the fabric of the night sky—literally. I could see constellations shifting in the silk as she moved. Her skin was the color of a thunderhead.
Nyx. The Primordial Goddess of Night. My father's wife. My... stepmother? Patron?
I wasn't sure of the etiquette, so I just nodded. "Lady Nyx."
She smiled. It was a terrifying expression, filled with sharp teeth that shone like starlight.
"You are awake," she said. Her voice sounded like wind rushing through a canyon. "My husband's blood runs thick in you, Sol Vance. You ignored the Fury. You ignored the Fates. You are very good at ignoring things."
"It's a survival strategy," I said. "If I don't look at it, it's not my problem."
She laughed. The sound caused ripples in the obsidian floor. "A very Erebus outlook. He prefers the quiet of the deep. But silence is ending, Little Shadow. The King of the Skies has lost his toy. He is throwing a tantrum."
"Zeus?" I asked. "What did he lose?"
"His Master Bolt," Nyx whispered. "Stolen. And he blames the Sea Prince."
I frowned. "Poseidon?"
"Poseidon's son."
My stomach dropped. Percy.
The image of the three old ladies cutting the yarn flashed in my mind. The snip. The death sentence.
"They're going to kill him," I said.
"They will try," Nyx agreed. She leaned down, her massive face filling my vision. Her eyes were like mine—endless voids. "The question is, will you continue to sleep? Or will you embrace the nature of your blood?"
"I like sleeping," I said stubbornly. "Fighting is exhausting."
"Darkness is not just sleep, Sol," she purred. "Darkness is the predator that hunts while the light is blind. Wake up. The storm is here."
She blew a breath of cold air into my face.
I woke up gasping.
My room was shaking. Literally shaking.
At first, I thought it was an earthquake. Then I heard the sound. It was a howl, a high-pitched screaming wind that battered against the brickwork of the apartment building.
I rolled off the bed and checked the digital clock. 10:45 PM. I had only slept for four hours. My battery was at maybe 50%. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
I stumbled into the living room. My mom was gone—at work.
I went to the window and peeled back the blackout curtain.
New York City was being hammered. Rain was falling in sheets so thick it looked like a solid wall of water. Lightning didn't just flash; it spiderwebbed across the sky in green and white veins, staying visible for seconds at a time. Thunder boomed constantly, a drumroll that rattled the dishes in the sink.
This wasn't weather. This was rage.
"Zeus," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. "Drama queen."
I pulled out my phone. Three missed calls from Percy. One voicemail.
I tapped the screen. Percy's voice was frantic, barely audible over the sound of wind.
"Sol! My mom—we're going to Montauk. Just for a few days to get away. But... Sol, I think something is following us. I saw the shadow again. The one you killed in the dorm. Call me back. Please."
The voicemail ended.
I stared at the phone. Montauk. That was the end of Long Island. Hours away.
I looked at my bed. It looked so soft. I could just go back to sleep. I could let the "plot" happen. In the books—the ones I never read but vaguely knew about—Percy survives, right? He's the main character. He has plot armor.
But the Fates cut the string, a voice in my head whispered. And you're here now. Your presence changes things. What if the butterfly effect means he dies tonight?
I groaned. A long, pained, teenager groan.
"I hate being a demigod," I said to the empty room.
I ran to my room and grabbed my duffel bag. I dumped out the school clothes and started packing the essentials.
Ambrosia squares (I had stolen a stash from the infirmary at Yancy when I realized they healed me).
A heavy flashlight.
My sunglasses.
A black raincoat.
I grabbed a Sharpie and a piece of paper. I scribbled a note for my mom:
*Ma, Percy is having a crisis. His dad stuff. I went to check on him at Montauk. Don't worry. I'll text you.
Sol*
It was a weak lie, but it would buy me time.
I ran out of the apartment and down the stairs, skipping them two at a time. My body felt lighter than usual. The darkness of the storm was fueling me. The shadows in the stairwell seemed to push me forward, making me faster.
I burst out the front door into the hurricane.
The wind hit me like a physical blow, but I didn't stagger. The rain lashed against my skin, but it didn't feel cold. It felt electric.
I looked down the street. No taxis. No buses. The city was shutting down.
"Okay," I said, wiping rain from my face. "How do I get to Montauk?"
I looked at a shadow stretching from a parked delivery truck. It was deep, dark, and connected to the shadow of the building next to it.
I had never "Shadow Traveled" more than a few feet. I knew, instinctively, that I could step into one shadow and pop out of another. But Montauk was a hundred miles away.
If I jump that far, I'll go into a coma, I realized.
I needed a middle ground.
A yellow cab skidded around the corner, hydroplaning slightly. The "Off Duty" light was on.
I stepped into the street. I didn't wave my hand. I just let a pulse of intention ripple out. I focused on the shadows inside the cab, pushing them to weigh down the gas pedal, to turn the wheel.
It was a subtle manipulation—Umbrakinesis applied to mechanics.
The cab slowed down, fighting the driver, and rolled to a stop in front of me. The driver, a guy with a thick mustache, rolled down the window.
"I ain't taking passengers, kid! Look at this weather!"
I leaned down. I lowered my sunglasses. I let him look into the Vantablack eyes.
"You're going to Montauk," I said calmly. I pushed a little bit of fear into his mind. Not enough to break him, just enough to make him want to obey. "And you're going to drive fast."
The driver's eyes glazed over. The primal fear of the dark took over. He unlocked the door.
"Get in," he whispered.
I climbed into the back seat. "Wake me up when we hit the coast."
The drive was a blur of rain and motion sickness. I drifted in and out of consciousness, trying to bank every second of rest I could.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the Minotaur. I knew it was coming. I could smell the beef and rot on the wind.
"We're here," the driver said, his voice shaking.
I opened my eyes. We were on the coastline. The ocean was churning, black waves crashing against the sand with enough force to shake the ground.
We were parked on a ridge overlooking a small cabin.
And there it was.
Down on the road, a red Camaro had veered off into a ditch. It was smoking.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the scene in stark white.
Percy was dragging a woman—his mom—out of the car. Grover was there too, looking woozy.
And charging toward them, smashing through a pine tree like it was a toothpick, was a giant. Seven feet tall. Bull head. White horns.
The Minotaur. And he was wearing... underwear? No, tighty-whities. Briefs.
"Gross," I muttered.
I tossed a hundred-dollar bill (my emergency stash) at the driver. "Go back to the city. Don't look back."
I stepped out into the storm.
The wind howled. The Minotaur roared. It sounded like a freight train.
Percy was yelling. He was trying to distract the beast. "Hey! Beef-head!"
I stood on the ridge, looking down. The distance was about two hundred yards. Too far to run.
I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and visualized the shadow of the Camaro. It was faint in the lightning flashes, but it was there.
Don't pass out, I told myself. Just a quick hop.
I stepped backward into the shadow of a pine tree.
The sensation was like being squeezed through a straw. Cold. Tight. Instant.
I stumbled out of the shadow of the Camaro, right next to Percy.
My knees buckled. Nausea hit me like a truck. My vision swam. That jump cost me at least 15% of my battery.
Percy screamed. "Sol?!"
I straightened up, swaying slightly. I adjusted my sunglasses.
The Minotaur stopped charging. It sniffed the air. It smelled Percy (demigod). It smelled Sally (human). And then it smelled me.
It snorted, confused. I didn't smell like a demigod. I smelled like the Void. I smelled like the thing under its bed.
"Hey, Perce," I shouted over the wind, putting my hands in my pockets to hide how much they were shaking.
Percy stared at me, his eyes wide. "How did you... where did you come from?"
"Took an Uber," I yelled. I nodded at the Minotaur. "Your friend is ugly. And he's not wearing pants."
The Minotaur roared, lowering its horns. It decided it didn't care what I smelled like. It just wanted to kill.
"Get your mom to the tree line," I told Percy. My voice was calm, but my internal alarm was screaming SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP. "I'll distract him."
"You don't have a weapon!" Percy yelled.
I looked at the ground. The lightning flashed, casting long, sharp shadows from the wreckage of the car.
I focused. I reached out with my mind and grabbed the shadow of the Camaro's bumper. I pulled.
The shadow didn't just move; it peeled off the ground. It solidified, hardening into a jagged, three-foot-long spike of black matter.
I caught it in my hand. It was weightless to me, but I knew it hit with the force of steel.
"I make my own," I said.
The Minotaur charged.
I sighed. "This is going to ruin my sleep schedule."