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He had never wanted to be a fighter. Not in the Battle of Manhattan or the Siege of Camp Half-Blood, not even in Nero’s tower. Helovedbeing a healer.

Yet here he was, alone on a hill in Tartarus, surrounded by vicious Stymphalian birds. Why, oh why hadn’t he honed his archery skills? Why had he not considered that he might get separated from Nico and would need his own weapon?

He heard fluttering above.Closeabove. He dived to the ground,but it was pointless. A group of birds attacked him, pecking his scalp and tugging at his clothes.

‘No!’ he cried out. ‘Go away! Find someone else to attack!’

But there was no one else, and even if his screams woke up his boyfriend, Nico would never be able to reach him in time to help. As Will tried to crawl away, he realized he never should have left Nico’s side. He shouldn’t have been so arrogant and reckless.

The Stymphalian birds pulled at his sleeves, his shoes, the hems of his shorts. His backpack was ripped off his shoulders. Will curled up as tightly as he could, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Those bronze beaks could tear him to shreds.

But … why weren’t they?

More and more of the creatures swirled around him, cawing with exultation, pecking at his clothes. And then … Will was rising. The cursed birds weren’t trying to kill him. They wereliftinghim off the ground.

He screamed, but it did no good.

He swatted at the birds and kicked his legs, but the flock was everywhere now – a living cloud of angry feathers and claws.

As they carried him up and away – a metre off the ground, five, ten, fifteen – he looked down in despair, hoping Nico had heard the noise and was coming to his rescue. But instead he saw something even more terrifying than his own predicament.

Crouched near the boat, as if getting ready to lift it, was a tall creature with furry legs and pointy horns.

Then Will was swallowed in a black storm of feathers and transported into the poisonous skies of Tartarus.

When Nico woke from his nightmares, he was convinced he had fallen into another dream.

He didn’t know if Nyx was still trying to invade his subconscious to … do whatever it was she was doing. That still confused Nico. Was she trying to draw him into a trap? If so, did she not realize she didn’thaveto? Nico would have come for Bob regardless, so the whole thing was perplexing.

His nightmares were weirdly predictable. It was as if his brain were a Magic 8 Ball and someone had shaken it, plucked whatever memory floated to the surface, and then twisted it, warping the past to fit the same dream narrative: Nico needed to listen. He needed to tell the truth. Blah, blah, blah. It was all very repetitive, and he much preferred his usual chaotic dreams over this.

So, when he opened his eyes and found himself in a dark space, he wasn’t frightened or startled. It was merely the next chapter in his boring dream journey. Was he back in the jar? Who was going to open it this time?

More light came in, and Nico blinked as his eyes adjusted to the shadow above him. Well,partialshadow. There was still a red hazeeverywhere. Wait. He was in Tartarus! And was that Will’s face? No, he thought he could make out horns …

Maybe this wasn’t a dream after all.

Nico rubbed at his cheeks and sat up, promptly smacking his head on something that fell away from him.

The horned figure grunted. ‘Why were you under a boat?’

‘What?’ said Nico. Just to his left was a lone Kit Kat bar. Where hadthatcome from?

And then he saw the white boat on the ground behind him.

Theboat. For some reason, Nico had been sleeping underneath the canoe Gorgyra had lent them. Had they crashed? No, not that Nico remembered. He’d been with Will when –

Will.

Where was Will?

Nico felt panic rising in him as he quickly sprang upright, his sword in his hand. ‘Who are you?’

The creature stared at him in confusion. He looked like … like Grover. So … a satyr? No, his horns were strangely shaped. They were much, much bigger than any Nico had ever seen, and they curled up on the sides of the creature’s face, which was that of a pale human with boyish features. Below the neck, he quickly became …

Actually, Nico wasn’t sure. He was furry like satyrs usually were, and there were hooves at the end of his two legs. Was he part goat? Part sheep? Around his waist he wore only a long, tattered cloth held in place by a thick band of leather.

The satyr-ish being looked down at the boat, then back to Nico. ‘Have you seen the child?’