Ezra Dashner and The Children of Kronos: The Prisoner of the Sky

by Trashboat547

Summary:

EZRA DASHNER worked his whole life to avoid trouble, even if it seems to follow him. Ever since he got put in the foster system, going from foster house to foster house. It has just been him and his abilities that are unexplanatory. Surviving being alone in the world of Laws and Order, having to use his intelligence and trickery to do what it takes.
So when his life gets sidetracked by his foster sister Brianna Connors, and thrown into a world of Gods and Monsters. He has to learn how to adapt to this new world. Along with Brianna Connors and a group of demi-gods, as they must deliver a duffle bag that holds an ancient being capable of reshaping the world.
The more that they travel across America, the more the puzzle of why they are doing this quest appears. But Ezra doesn’t have time to think about the world ending or whoever The Child of Dreams is, he has an elder being of the universe to deliver.

Notes:

To Fenrir, Rick Riordan, and the Rodriguez Family.

For unintentionally inspiring me to write this book and giving me the courage to make it public for others to read.

Chapter 1: I Watch my Best Friend Vaporize our English Teacher

1

I Watch my Best Friend Vaporize our English Teacher

 

Listen up, if you're reading this. Stuff this book in your bag and take it home right now. Reading this book in public puts people like us in danger. Us Half-Bloods face constant risk, and most of us die in very painful, torturous ways. My advice? Learn to adapt and survive in this world you just opened yourself to.

Most half-bloods die young anyway, so why not have some fun before a monster comes slashing at you? You could keep reading and try to understand this world of Gods and Monsters, but by the time you finish this book, you'll be packing your bags and heading for the nearest kingdom.

I'll warn you—your life will be at risk. Even if you dump this book where you found it, ignore the lies your mom or dad tell you about your birth, and keep trying to live a normal life, it's all coming anyway. Trust me, you'll want it to hit sooner rather than later.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

 

Hey, my name is Ezra Dashner.

 

I'm sixteen years old, and just a few months ago, I was stuck at Maria High School in Pennsylvania, right in midtown Harrisburg. It's a school designed to rehabilitate troubled kids and teens. Does that make me troubled? Yeah, you could say that. But to me? That just makes it more fun to be around me.

Weird stuff happens around me constantly. You could blame it on my ADHD and clumsiness, but some things are way harder to explain. Every counselor I've talked to says the same thing.

“With an imagination like yours, Ezra,” Mr. Zusak would say, impressed, “you could be a writer or artist.” This happened after I was found on the roof of my school, staring out at a pile-up of crashed cars. That’s what everyone else saw at least, but I swear I saw some type of bull rampaging through traffic.

“Ezra, you have to be more careful in the science lab,” Mrs. Collins said desperately at Sydney Newman Middle School. “Dropping an active burner in class could have hurt a lot of people.” But that’s not what actually happened. The burner never dropped. The fire on the burner dropped. I know that sounds insane, but the fire just hopped off the burner and rolled around on the floor like some kind of living thing.

The only other person who might understand is my friend, Brianna. We both live in the same foster house run by Brianna’s Aunt Lorraine. I try not to get close to my foster parents—I usually don’t stay in one place long enough to really get to know them. But Aunt  Lorraine has been trying to “break my shell” (at least that’s what Brianna tells me privately). So far, this house is the longest I’ve stayed anywhere. Brianna says it’s because it’s lucky number seven.

In two years, I know my time is up, and I’m getting kicked out of the system unless someone adopts me. Let’s be honest: no one’s going to adopt a troubled sixteen-year-old. So since age fourteen, I’ve been picking up jobs near whatever house or school I’m staying at, saving money to keep starvation at bay for when I age out. Right now I’m working with Brianna at a little corner store deep in the city.

Brianna and I both go to the same school, along with my other foster siblings, Kyle and Sophie. Unlike us, those two aren’t sixteen yet. Kyle is five and wears his damn Cars shirt every single day along with cargo shorts. Sophie is eight and wears a generic Disney Princess shirt with blue jeans. They’re sweet, kind kids—perfect picks for adopting parents—and don’t deserve to be in a school for troubled youth or stuck in the foster system. I hope they don’t have to experience bouncing from house to house like I have.

Bri and I share first period with Mrs. Lamy, our English teacher. Before we head to her class, though, we have to drop off Kyle and Sophie at their rooms. I was on Kyle duty today, and Brianna handled Sophie. If we don't walk them in, they get upset and have panic attacks.

Even though I try not to get attached to people—especially my own foster siblings—with these three, particularly Brianna, I've grown to love them. Sophie is bright and adores old people. Every time we walk home, we pass this sweet homeless lady nicknamed Ness. She's around 68, and Sophie always shares her saved lunch from school with her.

Kyle is a tech whiz who loves messing with Aunt  Lorraine's TV on purpose just so he can fix it for her. Brianna is a massive dork, and ever since I moved in with them a few weeks ago, I felt like I didn't need to worry about leaving anymore. Plus, Bri and Aunt  Lorraine even got me a job at the Cam-A-Lot.

"Here's your stop, little man," I say, dropping Kyle off at his classroom.

"You've got to go in, just like Sophie." I let go of his hand, hoping he'd take the hint and walk inside. Instead, he grabs the seams of my jeans.

"I don't want to go." I can tell he's more nervous than usual. He does this thing where he fidgets when he gets anxious—something we have in common.

"I know you don't want to go, but you have to." I kneel down to meet his eyes. "Look, I don't want to go to my class either. The teacher in my class," I glance around dramatically for effect, "is scary too."

"Really?" Kyle asks.

"Yeah, the kids there even call her Medusa as a joke," I whisper, just in case Mrs. Lamy is lurking nearby.

"How do you not get turned to stone?" Kyle asks, wonder filling his eyes.

"What do you mean?" I ask, even though I already know what Medusa does. Kyle loves when people ask about his interests.

"Medusa's gaze turns people into stone," he explains, flashing his buck teeth in a grin.

“Oh yeah, well I don’t get turned to stone because...” Okay, now I know I’m screwed; I didn’t plan this far ahead. “...because she can’t turn fearless people to stone.” No, wait—then he’d figure out I’m just trying to get him to class.

“Because I have a bracelet that prevents me from being turned to stone,” I say, slipping off one of my seven bracelets. Each one represents a different foster home I’ve lived in.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks.

“Of course, man,” I say, fidgeting with the bracelet.

“I think my teacher is Medusa too,” he whispers in my ear.

“Well, good thing you have this bracelet then,” I say, holding it out to him.

“What about you?” he exclaims, pushing the bracelet away. “Won’t you turn to stone?”

“Let me tell you a secret,” I lean in close. “I’ll fall asleep in her class anyway—my eyes will be closed till the bell rings.”

“What’s going on here?” I turn to see Brianna in her usual outfit: mismatched socks stuffed into Vans, blue jeans, and a faded metal band shirt under an open button-up. The shirt was worn thin, but I can still make out the logo.

“My teacher is Medusa!” Kyle exclaims.

“No way!” Brianna shouts back, matching his energy.

“Okay, let’s not yell that in front of the teacher,” I say quickly, glancing into the classroom where his teacher is shooting us a death glare.

“We need to go now, Kyle,” I say, standing up. “We’ll be back after school.”

“Pinky promise?” I hate when he pulls this on me. To Kyle, a pinky promise is sacred—break it and it’s off with your head. And considering how many pinky promises I’ve already broken, well, let’s just say I shouldn’t still be standing here.

“On the oath of a pinky promise, I swear I’ll be here to pick you up after school,” I say reluctantly.

The moment the classroom door closes, Brianna grabs my arm and sweeps my leg, sending me crashing to the floor.

“Last one to the locker rooms is washing dishes tonight!” she yells, taking off like a roadrunner.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” I shout, jumping up and chasing after her. “And why the locker room?”

When I catch up to Brianna, she’s already at the door, catching her breath before heading in. Brianna doesn’t play any sports—she just pays this other girl to use her locker for storage. She’s a hustler who sells snacks and soda around school to make quick cash.

“WAIT, why the locker room?” I grab her shoulder and lean against her to catch my breath. Cardio isn’t exactly my strong suit.

“Gotta restock. Maddie lets me use her locker to store snacks,” Brianna says, pulling her metal water bottle from her backpack’s side pocket. “Here, drink this and then head to class. Don’t need you being late.”

“Funny that you think I care about my attendance. Now hurry up so we BOTH aren’t late.” I set up camp against the wall by the locker room door, dropping my bag and sitting cross-legged before pulling out my book.

“Seriously?” she says.

“Yes, seriously. Bro code, remember?” I reply.

“No, I’m talking about the fact that you just pulled out a book that belongs to me,” she says, pointing with the water bottle she told me to drink from.

“Oh please, we share a room. What’s yours is mine too,” I say, taking the water bottle from her hand. “Besides, you’ve got good taste. Under the Dome is great so far. I can’t believe that—”

“NO, SHUT UP!” She kicks me to stop me talking while covering her ears. “I haven’t gotten to that book yet.”

After a few moments of me teasing her about how the dome trapped the town of Chester’s Mill, she runs into the gym, promising she’ll be quick.

Brianna speaks her mind when she’s comfortable with someone, but when I first met her after moving into the foster house, she was completely quiet. Then one day, on a field trip to a local nature park with our school, I saw a horse in the water. I told the teacher and tried to show the class, but no one else saw it besides Brianna. Her aunt—my foster mom—says Brianna hadn’t talked to anyone besides her social worker before that day. My social worker thinks Brianna might see me as her comfort person, which I don’t mind. She’s one of the first people I feel comfortable getting attached to because I know that if we get separated somehow, we’ll find our way back to each other.

Brianna and I both like a lot of the same things: reading, drawing, you name it. We run the DnD club at our school together. People assume we're a couple before they get to know us and learn that I don't really do the whole dating thing.

I waited a solid 25 minutes for her, leaning against the wall outside the locker room for gym, with my nose buried in a book.

"BRI, hurry up in there," I yelled while still reading. "We're going to be late, AGAIN!" I waited another 5 minutes for a response from what I thought was an empty room, but as I looked up from my book to head into the locker room, I heard voices drifting from around the corner.

Now typically, in a big school where hall monitors hand out detention slips if they catch you wandering the halls, you don't go investigate random noises. The thing is, I get in trouble a lot—I just have a curious mind. If I see a button that says "DO NOT PRESS," well, I'm going to press it. And that's exactly what I did, especially since it might be some creep trying to sneak into the girls' locker room while Brianna's in there. As I crept toward the entrance of the hallway to my left, I heard muttering that sounded like 3 or 4 people.

"Can they hurry up, man? Do you even know who it is?" one of the voices said, sounding very much like a kid my age. Probably around 17. "We're in a time crunch here."

I pressed myself against the wall so I could listen in, relieved it was just people talking and not someone trying to break into a locker room.

"No, I don't; they only said that they weren't like us," said a voice that sounded annoyed and rough—definitely someone around 17. "They can see through The Mist like us, but that's it."

"Why are we even arguing?" asked what sounded like a small girl around eight years old. "Joshua's brother trusted this Connors girl; I don't see what the issue is."

See through the mist? What does that mean? I'm guessing the boy who spoke first would be Joshua?

I leaned around the wall to get a good look at the people talking. The person who’d just spoken was actually a child—a brownish-looking girl with brunette hair and a streak of white hanging over her face. She wore blue jeans with a black Queen’s hoodie and a brown hat that read “Crusty’s Waterbed Palace,” complete with a cartoon guy wrapped in a blanket on a bed.

“Because Allison,” said the rough-sounding girl, who looked just as rough as she sounded. “We can’t always trust people, especially after the war.”

This girl was definitely seventeen. With pitch-black hair and pale skin, she wore cargo pants and a generic light blue shirt with gray long sleeves underneath. She looked menacing and had probably seen some serious stuff, judging by the scarring that ran from her neck down what looked like her entire back. She carried a backpack and had a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. She also wore yellow construction gloves with weird symbols—a circle on the right and an “R” with legs on the left. You could tell this girl hit the gym every day; I wouldn’t be surprised if she fought bears as a pre-workout.

“You’re one to talk, Max,” Joshua (I presumed) said angrily. “You’re the one who got us into this mess. We could’ve just gotten straight to Cyrenton and called it a day.”

“Do you know how ignorant you sound?” Max snapped back, clearly annoyed. “We’re in a Red Zone right now—a monster could appear at any moment.”

“So? We could take on a little monster,” Joshua shot back.

“No, we can’t. Last time we killed a ‘little’ monster, it reformed almost instantly.” Max readjusted the duffle bag on her shoulder. “We need this client to tell us the safest route.”

“Fine, but if I sense a lie from your client, I’m throwing a knife at her.” Joshua leaned against the wall with one hand resting on a pack of playing cards hanging from his belt. He wore black slacks and a dark gray button-up with long sleeves tucked in. His brownish-black hair swept to the right, and like Max, he carried a backpack—his was a single-strap design in white and black. His shades were pitch black; I couldn’t even see his eyes.

Who are these guys? I’m not exactly popular, but I know people around here, and these definitely aren’t people I know. They look like homeless kids who robbed an Old Navy. I don’t know what’s happening, and normally I’d keep listening, but this feels dangerous. Brianna’s in the room right next door, and I won’t put her at risk.

I turned to get Brianna, reaching for the locker room door handle when I heard a caw. Behind me, a bird perched on the bulletin board—a crow with a little blue tag on its leg. Crows don’t usually visit schools. It flew closer and landed on the floor. We stared at each other with equal curiosity. How did a bird get inside? And one that clearly belongs to someone? That baffles me even more. So I did what any normal person would do when they see a bird indoors.

“Hey bud, you lost?” I squatted down and waved at the little guy (yes, I waved at a bird).

“She isn’t lost—she belongs to Josh.” I looked up to see an imposing 6'2" buff giant, backed by two friends.

“Name’s Max Artyom, this is Joshua,” she said, pointing to the guy with shades. “And this is Allison,” she added, shifting slightly to reveal the small girl from earlier.

“Uhhh, I’m Ezra,” I said, scrambling to my feet and dusting off my pants before awkwardly shaking her hand.

“Ezra what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What’s your last name?”

“That’s a cool last name. Look, my friends and I are looking for someone,” Max explained. “Their name is Brianna. Do you know them?”

Normally, I’d point potential customers straight to Brianna so she could make more money. But my heart sank when Max said her name. I couldn’t tell if it was their terrible style choices or the fact that Joshua had threatened to throw a knife at Bri that made me hesitate.

“No, sorry. I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I lied.

“You sure?” Joshua pressed, stepping around Max to get in my face. “Your heart’s pumping really fast.”

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“When someone’s heart races like that, it usually means they’re nervous. Your heart rate spiked the second we mentioned Brianna.” He moved closer, invading my personal space. “And when someone gets nervous after being asked a simple question, it usually means they’re lying. So we’re gonna ask again: do you know Brianna?”

I’m not the world’s best liar. I’ve lied before, sure, but I’m terrible at it. Most people see right through me. But when I need to protect someone I care about, I’ll spin the best story anyone’s ever heard. So how could this kid possibly see through me?

“Fine, I know a Brianna,” I said smugly, hoping to annoy them enough to make them leave. “You’re going to have to be more specific than just throwing out a name.”

“Brianna Connors,” he said.

“Ohhhhhhh,” I said, dragging out the sound.

“You know her?”

“Nope.”

“You’re lying again,” he said, struggling to keep his temper in check. “Where is Brianna Connors?”

“I’m sorry, who?” I smirked at him.

“Max, I’m gonna strangle him.”

“Alright, you two, enough.” Max stepped in front of Josh, moving closer to me. “Look, we need to see her soon. It’s important.”

“Okay, if hypothetically I knew Brianna Connors, why is she so important to you three?”

“Four,” Allison piped up, pointing to the crow.

“Four, my bad,” I corrected.

“Look, Dashner, we’re in danger, and we need her services to get us a bag and get us out of here,” Max continued. “So do you know where she is?”

Before I could answer Max’s question, the gym door behind me swung open.

“Hey guys, I see you’ve met my friend Ezra,” Brianna says.

“Oh, so you do know Brianna?” Joshua smirks at me. I’m really starting to dislike this Joshua guy.

As Brianna walks out of the gym, I notice a few things have changed—she’s carrying two identical bags, wearing an empty holster that used to belong to her dad, and sporting a bracer on her left arm.

“Here’s your stuff,” she says, tossing the bag over to Joshua. “Before I can give you a route to your Kingdom, can my friend please go?”

“Sure, he was already annoying me,” Joshua says.

“I’m sorry?” I shot back. “You were the one getting in my face.”

“Ezra, please just go.”

Something here is setting off my danger radar like crazy. For every sale she makes, I stay. Afterward, we always walk to class together. No matter how long the sale takes, I wait until the end so we can walk and talk about everything. Whatever’s happening right now is seriously weirding me out.

“Wait, what? I’m staying,” I argued back. “I always stay, and that’s not changing.”

“Ezra, please just go to class. I’ll meet up with you.”

“Or I could stay here with you, like I always have.”

“This is a sale I have to do on my own, please,” she pleaded.

“Fine, but you’re going to explain why,” I stated.

“Thank you. Please take my bag with you and tell the teacher I’m going to be late.”

I start walking to Mrs. Lamy’s room for class. Usually, walking helps clear my mind, but I can’t stop thinking about what just happened. Those three people, all talking strangely, discussing a “route” and “red zones.” They seemed fine, but they sounded like they were in danger. If Brianna’s getting herself involved with them, she could be in danger too. Even though I trust her more than anyone, I feel like I should help her, but it also sounds like she needs to handle this alone.

I’ve been walking for 4 minutes when I realize I’m approaching her classroom. Given the time, the first period is over, and we’re already 10 minutes into the second period. I’m still going to Mrs. Lamy’s class just to grab the work that Brianna and I missed.

Walking into her classroom, the first thing I notice is that it’s empty, which makes sense—she has second period off for “an early lunch.” The second thing I notice is that she’s not here. Maybe I can just grab today’s work and head off to second period.

I walk to her desk and start looking around, checking the top of her messy desk, which reminds me of the scrapyard Sophie and I used to explore and hang out at. I open one of her desk drawers, only to come face to face with a stack of papers titled ‘Pre Cal for your Best Pal: Part 27.’ Bingo.

“Mr. Dashner, do you mind telling me what you’re doing in my desk?” says the scratchy voice of Mrs. Lamy, standing in the doorway, blocking me in the classroom. Mrs. Lamy reminds me of those old substitute teachers who think they’re the real teachers. You know the ones I’m talking about? The ones with huge egos and even bigger attitudes. Mrs. Lamy is wearing her classic white button-up tucked into a snakeskin long skirt. Her pale skin is extremely wrinkled. Brianna says the only reason she’s still alive is that she devours kids.

“I was just getting the work we missed today,” I say, waving the papers in the air for her to see.

“Why were you absent today?” she asks, taking a step closer while still blocking the doorway. “Off killing monsters? Being a hero with your mortal friend, were we?”

“I’m sorry, what?” I’m definitely confused now. “Mrs. Lamy, I’m just going to go; sorry for snooping around.”

“You know I couldn’t strike until I knew which one of you two was the demi-god, but given I can smell the bravery and pride rolling off of you—with a hint of panic—I’m certain you’re the half-blood,” she says, moving closer. She’s not blocking the door as much now, but I’ll still have to get past her to leave. What is she even talking about? Maybe our DnD club? I doubt she’d know anything about demi-gods. What is going on today? First those kids, then Brianna acting weird, and now Mrs. Lamy looking at me like I’m fresh meat for the wolves.

Before I can talk sense into Mrs. Lamy, she lunges at me. I vault over her desk to avoid her attack, backing away as she lands on the ground behind it. I feel my ADHD kick in, and I know running for the door would just give her an opening to strike me from behind—not an option right now. My choices are simple: punch my ticket now or fight back. I’m not ready to go out, at least not without a fight. The bag in my hand starts to feel heavy. Knowing Brianna, the weight is probably all her binders and books. But to Mrs. Lamy’s face, it’ll feel like a pile of bricks.

“You’re an annoying one, aren’t you? Spent months drowning in your stench, and I couldn’t sense your mortal blood.” She stands up from behind her desk. What used to be her hands are now hideous long fingers with raptor talons. With one swipe of her new claws, the desk goes flying through the wall, letting sunlight pour through the fresh addition to the school’s infrastructure.

The new light revealed the full extent of Mrs. Lamy’s transformation. Her snakeskin skirt had morphed into an actual serpent’s tail, her face twisted into something inhuman, and she reeked like the Hudson River (trust me, that’s awful—I nearly drowned there once). Too shocked to speak, I stared at her in confusion. Sure, kids in middle school sometimes said I smelled, but the way she talked made me feel like I wasn’t even human.

“Look, whatever you are—creature, thing—I don’t know what you’re going on about, but you’re definitely not one to talk about smell.”

The moment those words left my mouth, she snarled and swiped at me with razor-sharp claws. I ducked, lost my balance, and hit the ground hard, feeling something coil around my leg. I scrambled backward on my hands, but didn’t get far before her tail dragged me back and hoisted me into the air, bringing us face to face.

“Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have insulted you?” I said weakly.

“I’m going to enjoy ripping the flesh from your bones and drinking your blood,” she hissed back.

“Yeah, about that—snakes don’t actually do that. But they do hate heavy things on their tails.” I slammed Bri’s bag down hard on the middle of her serpentine body. She shrieked in pain and dropped me instantly. I scrambled away, putting distance between us while gripping the bag handle tighter, ready to swing it at her face. The only problem? That massive tail kept me from getting close enough.

“You little brat! Do you have any idea who you’re facing?” Mrs. Lamy spat.

“No! I don’t! I don’t know what’s been happening all day!”

“You’re facing the one and only Lam—”

Before she could finish, a familiar voice called out from behind her. Brianna stood in the doorway, meter stick in hand.

“Hey, Lamia.” The words barely escaped Bri’s lips before the meter stick went flying through the air, striking Mrs. Lamy—or Lamia—square in the face and sending her reeling backward.

I sprint to Brianna’s side. She snatches the bag from my hand, opens it, and pulls out something that glows faintly—a handle from inside the bag.

“Is that a gun?” I blurt out in shock.

“Ezra, listen to me. Go home and stay there until I come back. I promise I’ll explain everything then,” she says, trying to reassure me.

“Explain what? That our teacher is a snake person and you have a glowing sawed-off shotgun?”

“I’m guessing you’re freaked out?”

“Oh no, I’m perfectly fine. This is just a normal Tuesday for me.”

“Really? How are you not freaked out?”

“I AM FREAKED OUT! I WAS BEING SARCASTIC!”

“Then why didn’t you use your sarcastic voice?”

“Are you two finished?” Lamia interrupts, standing back up from the strike. “No matter what you do, I’ll just come back and reform.”

“Nice bluff. Monsters take years—decades even—to reform,” Brianna shoots back.

“Oh, you haven’t received the news yet?” Lamia says, pacing side to side with her serpent half, scanning us—mainly Brianna. “Death has been chained. The doors of death have been opened.”

“I know all about you, Lamia. You work for Hecate—basically her child—and I know you lie like the triple goddess herself,” Brianna barks back.

“Wait, timeout.” I step in front of Brianna. “Lamia? Hecate? Demi-gods? This is all insane. Like, I’m going insane, right? Or is this all just some elaborate prank?”

“Ezra, get behind me, please,” Brianna says, still keeping her eyes on Lamia.

“This all sounds like our stupid D&D campaign,” I say, ignoring her.

“Ezra, I swear I’ll explain everything at the house. Just please get behind me,” she begs.

“And you—you’ve got to be wearing a cosplay, right?” I say, pointing at Mrs. Lamy. “Like, this is crazy. All of this.”

“He’s not trained yet?” Mrs. Lamy asks—or Lamia, whichever one was true.

“I haven’t had time to take him to a kingdom,” Brianna admits reluctantly.

“What do you mean, trained?” I ask, looking between them while still pointing at Lamia.

“Most demi-gods either die or get found at 13, so you’re a little late to the party,” Lamia explained. “And given your age now, I doubt you’ll be heading to a kingdom anytime soon.”

“That’s not true—Cyrenton will take him in,” Brianna shot back.

“And if they don’t?” Lamia pressed.

“They will,” Brianna said firmly.

“Okay, what the actual hell—” but before I could finish, Mrs. Lamy flashed forward in a blur, landing on top of me with her talons ready to claw my guts out. A loud bang cracked through the air. Right before my eyes, Mrs. Lamy began dissolving into swirling gold, bronze, and black ash.

Brianna stood above me, her shotgun’s barrel smoking with bronze and black mist. She reached out her hand, just like she had in the locker room. Even after watching her make some shady deal and then shoot our teacher, I still took her hand. I trust her completely—everything she’s done today has been to keep me safe.

“Bri, what was that?” I asked, staring at the dust pile that used to be Mrs. Lamy.

“Elaborate on ‘that’?” Brianna said. I stared at her for a second, feeling ready to explode after that response, but I know Brianna sucks at social cues.

“All of today! Those kids in the locker room, Mrs. Lamy, and oh I don’t know—you have a shotgun?” I demanded.

“Look, Ezra, this is all a lot.”

“Yeah, no duh!”

“I’ll explain everything soon. I just need you to go home right now.”

“After that?” I exclaimed. “I’m going to end up in the crazy bin for what I just saw!”

“Gods, look—Ezra, you know how you’ve seen things before?” Brianna asked.

“Yes, but that’s just my imagination.”

“What if I told you it wasn’t?”

“I’m sorry, say that again?”

“Look, I’ve already said more than I should have. You need to get home right now.” Brianna started heading toward the door. “Lamia made an exit for you anyway.”

She pointed at the hole in the wall where the desk had slammed through; sunlight blazed through the opening. I looked back from the hole to the doorway, and Brianna was gone. With that note she left me, I headed out and made my way off the school grounds as sirens wailed in the distance. I knew whatever just happened today might change my life for the better or worse.

Chapter 2: Brianna’s New Friends Blow up my Arm

2

Brianna’s New Friends Blow up my Arm

So I know she told me to go home, but I didn’t. I headed to work instead; I needed to blow off some steam from what I’d witnessed today. Home wasn’t the place to do that, so work it was.

The Cam-a-lot Stop is the little corner store where Brianna and I work. Brianna’s aunt, Penny, owns the place after her brother (Brianna’s dad) went missing; he used to fund his research with the store’s profits on the building’s second floor. Now Brianna and Aunt Penny use his old study room as a giant decoding center to find him.

Walking up to the store, you’ll see the giant sign with a camel mascot giving a thumbs up, holding the store’s name in an 80's retro font with his other hand. Inside, the place overflows with merchandise of this nameless camel mascot, and for all the merch we stock, it’s pretty sad that only four staff members and one manager work here total.

“Welcome to Cam-a-lot, where you can find all, in the lots, how can we help you,” said E-Man in his customer voice. He’s the other employee besides Brianna, Delilah, and me. I don’t know much about him outside of work; I only know that Bri got him this job since other places won’t hire him because he walks with a limp and uses a cane.

He turned to look at my silence. Then, in his deep yet scratchy voice, “Oh, hey what’s up Ezra, here to pick up my shift?”

“You actually say the store’s greeting?” I asked.

“Yes?” He sounded offended. “You’re supposed to.”

“Really?”

“Yes, hang on, have you not been saying it?”

"What! Of course I'm saying it," I said, obviously lying. "Alright, get out of here, Emanuel." We headed to the back of the store, where I went to my locker and changed into my tan and orange uniform for Cam-a-lot—except for the hat with the camel head on it. That's pushing it when it comes to how I look.

"All right, I'm off," Arti said. He wore his usual civilian clothes: a light blue baggy shirt, black shaggy pants, and a light gray jacket. You know, your typical hippie look. His dirty blond hair hung free from the store uniform in a ponytail, with a jean hat resting on top.

"Can you just restock before you close up shop?" he asked.

As he limped out the door, he tossed me the store keys. Usually, I don't get the keys—closing up is Brianna's job. But since she's too busy murdering teachers, I'm taking over for today.

I started bringing boxes from the back to restock the shelves, since no customers were coming in anyway. When Brianna's dad first opened the Cam-a-lot, he based it on a famous gas station from Texas, trying to bring a piece of home upstate. Only problem was, he got sidetracked taking care of a surprise child that CPS delivered to him.

After restocking the all-you-can-eat hotdog trays, I headed to the janitor's closet for the mop and bucket. Since this place is thousands of years old and we're too broke to fix anything, I filled the bucket with semi-clean water. That's when I started hearing the floor yell with its creaks—normal for this place. Dalilah says it's the ghost; I say it's the rats.

I stomped around the store to find the source and fix the problem before I started mopping. I checked everywhere: the restroom, the storage room, the office space that used to be a fridge, the fridge that used to be a restroom (we really don't care about our health at the Cam-a-lot), and even the locker room. Nothing. Then I realized the sound wasn't coming from the first floor.

I looked up at the ceiling, following the noise echoing through the halls of the Cam-a-lot, leading me toward the door to the stairs. A door I’m not allowed to enter. A door I’ve been wanting to explore. A door that leads to whatever’s making that suspicious noise. I reach for the knob, ready to break the rule that’s been drilled into my head since I started working here—but this epic act of rebellion gets cut short by a bell ringing at the front of the shop.

I sprint back to the front of the store, smoothing down my uniform just in case some higher-up who actually owns this building walks in and notices we’re violating OSHA rules (which we definitely are, but they don’t need to know that). Instead, I ran into two familiar faces.

“Excuse me, can we have the bathroom key please?” Max asks, holding Allison’s hand with her right while raising her left. They stand a few feet from the counter. Max carries a bag that looks identical to one of the two Brianna had.

“What are you doing here?” I ask from behind the counter.

“Looking for your sister. What are you doing here?” she shoots back. If Brianna isn’t with these people, then she’s either upstairs or already at the house. Could the noise upstairs be her?

“Why do you need to find her?” I press. This is my chance to finally get some answers.

“Why should I tell you? Don’t you work for her and Connors?” she asks, hand still raised.

“I only helped her sell snacks. Now, why do you need her?”

“If I tell you, will you give me the restroom key? Allison’s been holding it since school.”

“Fine.” I toss her the keys from under the counter, and she hands them to Allison. As Allison hurries off, Max leans against the counter.

“She gave us the wrong bag. I don’t know if it was on purpose,” she says, head down, clearly stressed. I can’t blame her. Even though I just met these people, I can tell they’re good folk from how Max treats Allison. They’re close, and they obviously don’t mean Brianna any harm.

“Joshua thinks she did it on purpose; I don’t. I saw her rush to help when she realized she’d given you the wrong bag.”

“I’m guessing the bag you have now doesn’t have what you wanted in it?” I asked her. She lifted the bag onto the counter and pushed it toward me. Inside was all of Brianna’s stuff for selling her snacks. “Where’s this Joshua guy now?” I asked.

“He’s right here.” I turned to see a well-dressed 17-year-old with sunglasses standing behind me. “Sorry for ransacking upstairs; I tried to find that Brianna girl you apparently don’t know existed.”

“Joshua, stop being a jerk. I trust Dashner—he genuinely doesn’t know about Brianna or anything,” she said, sliding off the counter.

“Are you kidding me? He’s definitely a demi-god.” There’s that word again. Why did he just say the same thing Lamia was saying? “Where you from, man? You from that camp? Or are you an old soldier for Kronos?”

“He’s obviously not from camp, and he doesn’t know about his origins,” Max said. “It doesn’t make sense, but it’s the only theory we have until we figure out what’s been happening since we’ve been gone.”

“Agreed. First off, the arrowheads weren’t in the office,” Joshua said, walking to a shelf to grab camel-themed fruit gummies. “Which means she has all of them on her.”

“Which isn’t good—we need those arrowheads to pass through—” Max turned toward the door bell that cut her off mid-sentence. “Through Omar’s territory.” We all looked at the source of the noise to see three teens around our age standing in the doorway. All three wore black and blue uniforms, but each had a different colored tie. The one on the left wore yellow, the middle guy wore blue, and the one on the far right had pink.

“Great, what’s the plan now, Miss Leader?” Joshua asked, immediately moving to her side. From how pale Max got, I could tell she was terrified of what would happen next—like all her confidence had drained away with that one simple question.

“Does the bathroom have a window, Dashner?” Max whispered to me.

“Yeah, it leads to the dumpsters,” I answered.

“Great.” She leaned toward Joshua. “Can you go get—”

“Yeah, I’ll focus on Allison,” he said, turning to me. “Let’s hope you know how to talk your way out of something.”

The moment Joshua disappeared into the back of the store, Max straightened up with newfound confidence. She caught my eye and nodded, as if I should somehow understand her signal.

“Play along,” she whispered.

“But I have no idea what’s happening,” I whispered back.

“What’s up, guys!” Max suddenly boomed, striding toward them with arms spread wide like she was greeting old friends. “You all look like stand-up fellas—how about we sit down and grab some Camel Dogs like civilized people?”

“Cut the act, Margaux. We both know games aren’t your style,” Blue Tie said. “Hand over the bag, and Omar will let Edward and his little kingdom slide.”

“Sure, why not. Dashner, mind passing me that bag?” Max turned to me, her eyes darting between mine and the bag stuffed with nothing but books. You know those moments when an entire conversation happens through eye contact? This was definitely one of them. I could tell Max had something brewing—they had a plan.

I nodded and grabbed the bag from the counter, handing it over. You’d expect a simple exchange like this to go smoothly, right? Well, it didn’t. The second the bag touched Max’s hand, sections of tile flooring beneath her feet began rising and wrapping around her hands—no, her gloves—forming concrete gauntlets that reeked of Camel Dogs.

She flashed me a wicked grin and hurled the bag at Blue Tie with superhuman force, launching him clean through the wall and out onto the street.

Now, violence usually isn’t my first choice. But given everything happening around me, I didn’t think I had any other option. Yellow and Pink Tie clearly felt the same way—they stood frozen, staring at the fresh hole in the wall (seriously, what was it with all these wall holes today?).

“What are you idiots doing just standing there?” Blue Tie’s voice echoed from the street. “Get them!”

Yellow Tie reached inside his shirt and pulled on his necklace. The moment the chain snapped free from his neck, a two-handed mace began materializing in his grip. He charged forward, swinging the weapon from behind his back in a devastating arc. Max sprinted to meet his attack head-on. He aimed for her skull. She ducked low and drove an uppercut into his ribs.

She glanced back at me, grinning like a kid who’d just discovered a candy store, but her smile vanished instantly.

“Dashner, watch out!” Max shouted.

I spun around to find a bo staff inches from my face. I tried copying Max’s dodge, but that only made things worse. As I ducked to avoid the strike, Pink Tie switched tactics and swept the staff low, knocking my legs out from under me.

My head cracked against the floor, vision swimming. Through the haze, I saw Pink Tie looming over me with his staff raised, ready to finish the job. Then Max appeared like lightning, landing a vicious left hook. Her rocky gauntlets exploded against his skull, sending Pink Tie crashing down beside me.

I struggled to sit up, the world spinning as warm blood trickled from my scalp. Suddenly, someone grabbed the back of my shirt. Max effortlessly hauled me to my feet with her supernatural strength.

“Yeah!” Max whooped, “That was incredible!”

“Incredible?” I shot back. “There’s a massive hole in the window!”

“So what? Feel that adrenaline rush!” she replied, practically bouncing.

“So what?” I stared at her in disbelief. “We had zero plan—we could have died.”

“You could have died,” she pointed at me with a smirk. “I would’ve been perfectly fine.”

“Who are you people?” I demanded.

“Demi-gods?” Max shrugged. “We’ve covered this already, man. Keep up.” She started heading toward the gaping hole in the wall.

“What?” I muttered, still processing.

“Look, Dashner, I’ve always been terrible at the whole ‘welcome to being a demi-god’ speech,” Max called over her shoulder. “When we find Brianna, I’ll have her come back and explain everything properly.”

“Wait, no.” I immediately started following her. “I’m coming with you.”

“Like Helheim you are.” Max turned back to me. “You’re a demi-god who’s got a life. You haven’t been claimed, which means your godly parent is most likely a minor god or doesn’t want to get you in trouble.”

I stood there, confused. All this talk about demi-gods and godly parents made my brain feel like it had just stepped on a rake.

“If Brianna’s out there, then I’m coming with you. I don’t care if my parent’s a minor god, a no-show, or a cosmic jellyfish. She’s my family.”

Before Max could respond, the last guy—Blue Tie Guy—climbed out of the hole in the store floor.

“You!” Blue Tie Guy pointed at me. “Omar will have his arrowheads.”

“Dude, I don’t even know you.” I answered.

“But I do,” Max starts to strut his way, she picks him with her rocky hands by the front rough of his shirt. “So Julian, why is Omar sending men and well, you?”

“I ain’t telling you anything.” Julian barked.

“You sure?” She slams him into the ground and proceeds to grab his arm. She slowly starts bending it to an angle it shouldn’t be in. “Why is Omar sending you guys?”

“Stop!” Julian screams. “I’ll talk, he wanted us to get the girl too.”

“Which girl?” Max demanded

“The Connors girl.” He replied. “He needs a pilot.”

“Is that all?” Max asked.

“Yes, that's what we were told, I swear on River Styx”

“Thanks for the info.” She let go of his arm, dropping him back to the concrete ground and turned to me. “I’m asking this one time, where else will Brianna be?”

I thought about this question, I know where she will be, but do I want to tell these strangers this. But at this point, Max isn’t a stranger, but isn’t a friend, just someone who needs to complete a job, but we both need one person for that.

“She’s going to be at our house.” I answered.

“Too bad you guys won’t make it there.” Julian said on the ground, he stood up with his head facing the sky. “It was nice knowing you Margaux.”

Julian faced the sky and yelled with all his lungs.

“Strike me down Zeus!” I could feel the air around us turn to static, Max said something, but I couldn’t hear. I don’t know why I did, but something in my body was giving me a warning, as if my insides were being torn out of me of grave danger. I pushed Max out of the way. Like if I knew what was about to happen, was going to happen. He looked me dead in the eyes. “You don’t have the guts!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a bright bolt of lightning strikes the ground, disintegrating Julian in an instant. I felt the full force of the shockwave of the bolt in my left arm, as the pain rippled. The shockwave alone most likely broke every bone in my arm.

Getting launched into the ground is not a great feeling. My vision became hazy, I felt Max run to my side. I could hear Max talk to someone, but I couldn’t hear or see who. She starts to drag me away from the smokey streets of the Cam-a-lot.

As my hearing came back, I could hear Joshua. He’s asking questions. I can’t make them out. I want to help, but I can’t even feel my own arm. I make the strength to look at my arm. It’s a mangled mess of blood and flesh, my own flesh. With most of it still there. Where are we going? A hospital, no we need to go to Brianna.

“Max,” I say weakly, she kneels to my side and looks at me. “1428 Calder Street.”

The second those words leave my mouth, I pass out.

Chapter 3: I let Three Strangers into my Foster Parent’s House

3

I let Three Strangers into my Foster Parent’s House

Losing your arm hurts. But you know what hurts more? Watching the people who caused it argue over who gets to explain it to you. I was lying on a table, staring up at Aunt Lorraine’s kitchen light. So, they got me home, just not in one piece. As my vision cleared, a blurry face hovered over me, saying something I couldn’t quite catch. In the background, Max and Brianna were arguing (or explaining). Around me sat Lorraine, Sophie, Allison, and the Crow.

“You’re late.” Said Kyle leaning over me.

“Yeah, sorry about that, little man.” I sat up. Brianna, Max, and Joshua were in front of me. I pushed myself upright with my left arm.  That’s when I realized I was using the same arm that had felt the might of the gods.

I looked at my arm, wrapped in a bracer of leather and metal, more armor than cast. Somehow, I could still move it, even though it should’ve been shattered. I’ve had smaller injuries heal fast before, but this? This didn’t make sense. My doctor once blamed it on some rare mutation, but fast. Healing knees don’t explain a whole arm working again.

“Shield of Ajax, it’s made of leather hide and celestial bronze,” Brianna says, pointing to my arm-cast-thing. “It should help make sure your arm heals right.”

“Are you feeling okay Ezra?”  Lorraine asks. I nod my head and look at Brianna. 

“So is anyone gonna explain to me what is happening?” I look around, hoping for one of them to pull out confetti and a camera and say ‘Got you, sucker.’ But all that happened was Lorraine looking at Kyle and Sophie.

“Can you two please head to your rooms, we need to talk to Ezra.” They nodded and ran off. 

We headed to the living room, the living room was cozy and a little chaotic — the kind of space that felt alive. It had two couches that have been in the family longer than I have. Sat under a tangle of throw blankets and pillows, perfect for movie nights or mid-day naps after murdering your teacher.

One wall was lined with DVDs, everything from cartoons to cult classics, with labels half-peeled and stacked slightly out of order. A small TV and scratched-up coffee table anchored the room, surrounded by toy cars, crayon drawings, and a shelf bursting with board games and books. The lighting was soft and golden, thanks to the old floor lamp and afternoon sun slipping through faded curtains.

Brianna sat on her usual spot, the carpet in the center of the living room. Max, Allison, and Lorraine sat on one of the couches. I sat alone on the second couch. I saw Joshua shuffle around the living room as if he was scared there were mines all over the place.

“You okay?” I asked him.

“Yep, just peachy.” He replied sarcastically.

The Crow fluttered over from the kitchen to the living room, landed on the couch the others were on, and started cawing to get Joshua’s attention. That’s when it hit me, Joshua is blind. He needs that bird to know where to go.

“Thanks, Nugget.” He said.

“Your bird’s name is Nugget?” I asked.

“It’s actually Nugget III.” Max cuts in.

“Can you not?” He barked back. “And yes, her name is Nugget.” 

“Anyways, you’re a Demigod, Dashner,” Max announced, cutting the bird talk in half. We all look in disbelief. She looks at us like a child who just heard a cuss-word. “Look, I said I suck at the ‘demi-god talk’, does anyone else wanna speak up?” 

I look around, Brianna is playing thumb wars with herself. Allison is fiddling with a Lego she found on the floor (probably Kyles), and Joshua is facing off in a different direction. That’s when Lorraine gets up real quick.

“I’m going to go get us snacks, does anyone here have allergies?” She looked around, and before we could say anything she said. “No? Great, you kids have fun.” 

As she makes her way into the kitchen. Brianna goes to speak up, but Joshua cuts in.

“Like Max has been saying, you’re a demi-god, man,” he says, facing the tv. His crow caws, and he then faces me.

“Okay, but what does that mean?” I ask. He stuttered for a second, trying to figure out what to say next.

“What do you know about the Greek Gods?” He asked. I think about that question for a second, I know a lot about religions and cultures. It’s one of my favorite things about history. But I am not as in-depth about ancient Greece as most people.

“Like Greek Mythology?” As soon as I say the word Mythology, it begins to rain outside.

“Yeah, try avoiding saying the M-word. The gods don’t like it.” Max cuts in.

“What, like Thor?” I say. 

“That’s Norse, we mean more like Zeus and Poseidon,” Joshua says.

“Oh, they’re real too, but that’s like, a whole other thing,” Allison said, finally chiming in.

“You’re saying those names like they’re real,” I say. They all look at each other as if contemplating who's gonna be the first one to run out the door.

“Well Ezra, what if I told you they were never just stories but were real,” Brianna said, she was looking up at me, waiting for me to say something. 

“I would tell you that you and the rest of your new friends are completely insane,” I say, ready to be the one to run out the door.

“You saw today yourself, Ezra, Lamia, the thunderbolt, the fighting,” she said, moving to sit beside me. “You’ve noticed how strange things happen around you, right? You heal fast, the dreams, the way you never really fit in?”

Max stood up, Allison right behind her.

“The Greek gods. Zeus, Poseidon, Athena, all those guys. They’re real. Still around. Still causing chaos.”

“Which is what we are,” Joshua added. “Demigods. Half-bloods. Whatever you wanna call us. We’re the byproduct of gods and mortals mingling.”

I stared at them as if they'd just handed me a grenade and said “Catch.” This wasn’t a prank. There were no hidden cameras. No one was jumping out to say gotcha! I kept waiting for someone to laugh, to crack the illusion, but all I got was silence, and the weight of their eyes waiting for me to catch up.

Demigods? Real gods? Me? My brain raced to keep up. I felt like I was falling upward, spinning through every weird thing I’d ever pushed aside, the healing, the dreams, the way teachers either loved or straight-up hated me for no reason. A part of me wanted to scream you’re insane. Another part, a smaller, quieter part, whispered: What if they’re right?

And that’s what scared me the most.

“Okay, if the gods are real, why hasn't the world gone to chaos because a Minotaur was walking the street,” I asked.

“One, there is only a single Minotaur in the world, not multiple. And two, there’s something called The Mist.” Brianna explained. “The Mist is like a magic brain fog. It makes mortals see normal stuff instead of, say, a giant snake eating a bus. It covers up the truth and makes them remember something safer, like a gas leak or wild animal attack.”

I looked at her for a second, my brain wracking through every moment we had, where I was told it was just my imagination.

“So your dad and mom's story is just a cover-up for you to be a monster-killing demi-god?” I asked her. Lorraine walked in with a charcuterie board and placed it on the table.

“That’s not a lie Ezra, Brianna and I, and many others out there can see through The Mist, even though we are just mortals.” She sat next to Brianna, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I told her to lie to you, to keep you safe. The second a demi-god learns of their true origins, it only goes downhill. It happened to my brother, and now Brianna doesn’t have a dad.”

I feel like I’m about to throw up. I feel the same feeling in my stomach from earlier today. It felt like butterflies at first — not the sweet, fluttery kind, but frantic, desperate ones. Their wings scraped along my ribs like razors, each flap tugging something loose inside me. Then came the beak. Sharp. Unrelenting. Pecking from within. Like something beautiful had crawled into me and decided to make a nest. 

“So you guys aren’t demi-gods?” I ask Lorraine.  

“No, My brother, Matthew, he is- ” she said, looking down. “Was a Son of Mercury, when we learned of his origins we started a foster home for potential demi-gods children. Like Sohpie, Kyle, and well, you.” 

I blink.
Once.
Twice.

A foster home? Like… me? The words tangle up in my brain like a ball of yarn dropped on the floor. Suddenly, I just need to move. To breathe.

I sit up from the couch and stand up, rubbing my hands on my cargo pants even though they’re not sweaty.

“I uh… I need some air,” I say, my voice coming out a little too fast.

Brianna starts to say something, Max and Allison walk towards me, but I’m already heading for the door of my room. Not running, just—walking. Quick. Like if I don’t, the moment might swallow me whole.

The hallway feels longer than it should, and the door creaks when I open it. Cool air rushes in from the box fan on the floor, filling my lungs like I haven’t breathed right in hours.

I sat on my bed—the bottom bunk, since Brianna claimed the top before I had a chance. The room’s small, barely big enough for two, but it’s got a lived-in feel. Her side’s all led lights, fantasy books, and a plush fox that might be cute or menacing depending on the day. Mine’s a mess of half-built LEGOs, a Doctor Who poster, and a flashlight duct-taped under her bunk for late-night reading. There’s a shared desk by the window buried in notebooks, D&D dice, and a lava lamp that gave up trying. The windowsill has unfolded clothes, weird rocks, and a creepy little clay owl Brianna made that won’t stop staring at me.

It’s not perfect, but it had personality—a mix of her and me. And for a while, it felt like more than just a room. It felt like I was sharing it with someone I trusted. Family. But today? With everything that happened—the monster, the lightning, the weird suits, even Max and Allison—it all fades into the background. Because right now, all I feel is betrayed.

A demigod? A foster home? I mean, come on. That’s… crazy, right?
But also… not?

Did my mother know about this? Is that why we constantly moved from home to home? Or hardly talked about Dad? I know he was a craftsman—always covered in ash, always humming something while he worked. She used to say I had his face. 

I stand up before my brain catches up, pacing a few steps, then stopping at the window. The night air is blowing in the room through the window, like the walls are pressing in. I glance at the window—already cracked open, just like always. I swing a leg over the sill and climb out onto the roof like I’ve done a hundred times before. It creaks a little under my weight, but it holds.

Up here, it’s quieter. The stars are out, faint but there. The kind of night sky that makes you feel small and huge at the same time. I lie back against the shingles, arms folded on my stomach, staring up.

I don’t know if I’m angry, confused, or just… tired. Probably all three. But the breeze helps. It always does. 

I hear the window creak behind me.

I don’t move. Not yet. Then, quiet footsteps. Careful. Hesitant. Like she’s stepping onto sacred ground.

“You mad at me?” Brianna asks.

Her voice is smaller than usual. No sass. No shield. Just… her. I don’t answer right away. The stars aren’t bright enough to distract me, but I try anyway.

“I don’t know yet,” I say.

She walks over and lowers herself onto the roof beside me, sitting cross-legged. Not too close. Not far either. Just enough space for everything between us to breathe.

“I would be,” I mutter. “I am, kind of.”

She nods like she gets it. Like she’s been waiting for this part.

“Everything feels like it’s been a lie,” I add. “This whole time.”

“It wasn’t,” she says quickly. Then, softer: “Not all of it.”

I finally turn to look at her. The moonlight catches in her eyes, and for the first time all day, she doesn’t look like the girl with all the answers. She just looks like Brianna. The one who stole the top bunk. The one who laughed too loud at cartoons and cried at that one dumb book about foxes.

“So what was real?” I ask.

She looks at her knees for a long second, then back at me.

“Us,” she says. “This.” She gestures vaguely between us, at the rooftop, the stars, maybe even the whole house. “The room. The D&D nights. The time I cried over that stupid plush fox and you gave me your flashlight like it was sacred.”

I huff a breath, part bitter laugh, part exhaustion. “That flashlight’s duct-taped to death.”

“Yeah. Like you,” she says, and her voice shakes just a little. “Barely holding together, but still glowing.”

That catches me off guard. Not in a dramatic way. Just enough to make the ache in my chest shift. She nudges my shoulder, barely a tap.

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” she says. “But I didn’t know how to keep you safe and tell you the truth.”

“Guess it didn’t matter either way,” I say, watching a faint cloud drift over the moon. “I still lost something.”

“You didn’t lose me.”

I turn back to her. She meets my eyes.

“You’re not alone, Ezra,” she says. “Not anymore.”

For a second, I believe her.

We sat in silence after that. The breeze moves around us like it’s trying not to disturb the moment. She pulls her hoodie tighter around herself. I fold my arms behind my head.

She doesn’t try to explain anything else. Doesn’t ask me how I feel. Just sit with me in the dark, like that’s enough.

The night felt off.

Cooler than usual, like the sky knew something I didn’t. Maybe it was the silence. Or the way Brianna and I hadn’t said a word in over ten minutes. We just sat there, side by side on the roof, staring into the kind of dark that makes you think too much.

Then came a knock. Not on the door. On the window frame. Soft. Just two fingers. Barely there.

Brianna turned her head, already knowing. “They’re here.”

I didn’t move. “What, monsters? Lamia?”

She didn’t even smirk. “Worse,” she muttered. “Max and Joshua.”

The window creaked again, and—speaking of the disaster—Max stuck her head out. Whispering loud enough to wake up the dead, which around here was a real risk.

“Hey! Bri? You up?”

Brianna stared at her. “No. I’m on the roof. Talking in my sleep.”

Joshua followed her out, clambering up like some over-eager raccoon, Nugget flapping behind him like a cursed balloon animal.

“Can we talk?” Max asked. “It’s important.”

Joshua’s eyes flicked over and landed on me. His expression said it all.

“Oh. You’re here.”

“I live here.” I say.

“We were kind of hoping to talk to Brianna. Alone,” Joshua said, pulling a backpack, Brianna’s backpack. Like that was gonna distract anyone from the passive-aggression in his tone. “About Omar.”

“Then talk,” Brianna said, not missing a beat. “Ezra stays.”

Joshua looked like she wanted to argue, but Max beat her to it.

“It’s about the arrowheads. and Omar.”

Bri sat up straighter. “Wait—what?”

Max dropped onto the roof, cross-legged and annoyed. “Okay. So. That package we were delivering? The one we trusted you to watch while we were on a quest to drop off another package.”

“Don’t bring up the plant hydra again,” Joshua mumbled.

“It had teeth,” Max snapped. “Anyway, the package had arrowheads. Bone-metal arrowheads. We were supposed to trade them to Omar. That was our one shot at getting through his territory without him unleashing whatever charming horrors he’s storing in those caves of his.”

“Omar, the guy who hates outsiders and thinks he’s the next big thing since the Hermes’ kid?” Brianna added.

“Sadly, yes.” Joshua answered.

I rubbed my face. “But you have them now?”

“Yes, but you had the bag at the school, Ezra. Brianna’s bag. Which had the arrows,” Max said. “And while you guys were fighting Lamia. Omar’s guys came to the school to pick up the bag, which we didn’t have then.”

Brianna leaned forward. “So what happened? What did Omar’s guys do?”

Max went quiet for a second. Then: “We convinced them to give us three hours to bring him the arrowheads.”

Joshua nodded grimly. “And if we don’t? People like Omar don’t have third chances.”

I looked between them. “Let me get this straight. You guys, a Demi-god delivery service, had to give magic arrowheads that can kill monsters, to a warlord demigod who wants to kill you both. But when you had to, I maybe accidentally took them. And now it’s too late.”

Joshua pointed at me. “See? He does catch on.”

Brianna’s voice dropped. “If Omar moves on Cyrenton… if he thinks we’re against him…”

Joshua finished it for her. “It’s not just us in danger. It’s everyone.”

“And Cyrenton is where you two and Allison live?” I ask.

“You forgot Nugget.” Bri adds.

“Again.” Joshua said.

“What is your issue with me, man?” I ask, 

“Nothing, we’re just fine.” I don’t need no blindness like him to understand he is obviously lying. 

“Cut it Josh, we need to focus.” Max cuts in. “Julian said that Omar wants Brianna before he insulted Zeus, so my best bet is Omar is going to hunt us down here.” 

“So we have the home advantage,” I add. “Right?”

“Yes,” Max answers. “But we’ll be cornered, and we have no means of transportation to Cyrenton.” 

“We could call the Grey Sisters Tax-.” Brianna says. 

“No!” Max interrupts. “We aren’t calling them again.” 

I pause, letting the weight of what they just said settle in my skull like a cinder block wrapped in anxiety. My brain kicks into autopilot—problem-solving mode. Not because I care (yet), but because that’s how I’m wired. Disaster hits, and I start running scenarios like a smoke detector set off by bad vibes. Where could we go if this Omar guy comes? How could I make sure Kyle, Sophie, and Lorraine are safe? 

I don’t know all the pieces yet, but that’s never stopped me. I just need one thread, and I’ll pull until the whole mess unravels—or explodes. Whichever comes first.

And then it hits me. Not like a lightning bolt—more like a paper airplane launched by a sleep-deprived toddler that somehow still clocks me right between the eyes.

I blink. Once. Twice. The neurons in my brain stop breakdancing just long enough to connect a few dots.

“You have the ‘I have an idea’ face Ezra, speak up.” Bri says

“We don’t need a vehicle, just a distraction, right?” I ask.

“I mean sure, but we can’t pull a distraction that Omar won’t see through.” Joshua says.

“He and his people are demigods too I’m guessing?” I ask. 

“Yes.” Joshua answers.

“Then we have a distraction already.” I blurt out.

They look at me confused, like I just started speaking Ancient Sumerian. But they don’t realize we already have an ally—one who hates demigods more than these three hate Omar combined. One who can’t die, who moves fast enough to wipe out an army and still make it back before the bell rings. She’s not just powerful—she’s unpredictable, angry, and weirdly good at pop quizzes. And odds are, she’s sitting in an empty school right now, probably doodling monster anatomy in the margins of her notebook while pretending not to be a walking weapon. 

“I have a stupid question.” I say gently. “Where is Mrs Lamy?”