I emerge from the hedge and look up at the massive wall. Good thing I don’t have to scale it, because I’m not a fan of heights. Breaching the wall is actually easier than the hedge—probably because the gods think no one will make it through their poison bushes. I step up to the gleaming white surface and scan the smooth stone blocks for the one with a faint handprint burned into the marble. The sign is only visible from a sharp angle, but even though it’s been a decade since I tried to sneak inside, when I step up to the wall and turn my head to the side, I immediately see the hand.

I allow myself a small smile. Despite assuring Troy that I knew what I was doing, part of me wondered if things had changed too much in ten years, if I might not even make it inside.

My last thread of doubt evaporates as I place my palm on the marked block and the section of stone in front of me sinks back into the wall.

The moment the opening is big enough, I slip inside. No point waiting out in the open just asking to be caught. I weave my way through the carefully carved labyrinth—a dark passage barely taller than I am and with only the fading glow of the outside world to light the rocky way.

I wish I could use my photomorphosis power to illuminate the creepy space. Yet another supernatural protection: no hematheos powers on Olympus grounds.

With a suffocating whoosh, the secret door slides shut, plunging the passageway into darkness.

Don’t freak out.

I place my palm on the wall and hurry forward, trusting my memory of the twists and turns to get out into the main hall as quickly as possible.

And I’m right. A few seconds later, I slam face-first into the end wall. Yeah, should have seen that coming.

I kneel down, feeling for the trigger I know is there. Even in the dark, my fingers find it almost instantly. I pull on the handle and then jump up out of the way as the interior door glides open.

For a moment I’m blinded by the glow. I’d forgotten just how bright Mount Olympus can be. Squinting against the burn, I step out into the hallway . . . and am overcome by memory.