I had no idea it was poison to any god under the age of two.

I had no idea it would steal his immortality.

“Nicole?” Troy’s voice penetrates my memories.

“What?” I snap, to cover up the emotion pulsing through me.

I’ve relived that memory so many times in the years since, it’s seared into my brain like a red-hot brand. The only way to get rid of it is to undo what we did.

To change the past.

If I could go back and stop the prank, maybe even stop my seven-year-old self from thinking up the idea in the first place, everything would go back to how it should be. We would all—me, my parents, Griffin, and his parents—get back the lives we were supposed to have.

“When do you want to go?” Troy asks, ignoring my glare.

I push up out of my chair. “Now.”

“Now?” he chokes, then catches himself before I can threaten to restrain him. “Right. Now. Sounds good.”

“Relax,” I say with a grin. “I’ll autoport to the gates, sneak into Zeus’s office, and be back here before you can blink.”

Troy doesn’t look convinced. But he keeps his concerns to himself. He nods. “I’ll be waiting.”

At the fearful look in his eyes, I hesitate. He’s really scared for me. He’s my friend and he cares whether I get hurt or in trouble.

“I’ll be fine,” I promise.

He takes a deep breath and nods again.

Then, before he can say anything, I close my eyes and concentrate. I picture the massive golden gates at the entrance to Mount Olympus. They’re purely for show—the gods have other protections in place to keep out the riffraff—but they are impressive.

I focus on the spot to the right of the entrance, behind the column of white stone that anchors the gate to the wall surrounding the entire Olympic complex. That spot is hidden from anyone standing at the gate, and out of the sight of the golden gargoyles that guard the wall from above.

It’s the only place I know for sure I can zap into Olympus without being seen.

My skin tingles and bright light glows through my closed lids. When the sensations are gone, I open my eyes. And find myself standing face-to-face with a golden giant.

I open my mouth to scream, but quickly slap my hand in place.

The giant is a statue, an unmoving sentry guarding the gates of Olympus. He’s a new addition since I used to play out here as a child.

“Get a grip, Nic.”

When I whisper the words, the statue’s eyes blink open.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

This must be a creation of Hephaestus, Olympus’s handyman. It’s an automaton guard to protect the precious gods around-the-clock.