Just traveling through time is a crazy feat. As far as I know, no one has done it in centuries. Maybe even millennia.

There are reasons time travel is illegal. Altering the course of time is tricky. What if I do it wrong? What if I can’t stop myself or I make the situation worse? Having my parents banished and Griffin’s smoted was bad enough. What if I screw up and the punishments are worse?

I walk through the village, blindly wandering wherever my feet take me.

The what-ifs racing through my mind are overwhelming. I don’t usually waste time thinking about consequences. I’m more of an act-now, worry-about-detention-later girl.

But this? This is too big. Too important.

I’m not sure how long I walk. When I finally find myself standing in front of the boys’ dorm, it’s pitch dark and I’m shivering in the night air.

I enter the building, climb the stairs, and stop in front of Troy’s door.

He opens it before my third knock.

“I’m not okay,” I blurt. “I’m scared.”

I can honestly say that those are words I’ve never said to anyone before in my life. I don’t get scared. And on the rare occasion that I might, I push the pointless sensation aside. Fear is a waste—it doesn’t accomplish anything.

But today, no matter how hard I shove, the fear stays lodged in my heart.

I stand there, watching Troy, waiting for him to respond. Waiting for him to laugh or say something sarcastic like, Never thought I’d see the day.

But he doesn’t.

He steps forward, wraps his arms around me, and squeezes tight.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers against my hair. “Everything will be fine.”

As I relax into his hug, I want to believe him. More than anything in the world, I want to believe things will work out.

I’m just not used to fearing that they won’t.

“Don’t jinx her,” Phoebe says. “She hasn’t done it yet.”

“There is no such thing as a jinx,” Stella replies.

“Just curses,” Xander says.

Griffin adds, “And luck.”

“It doesn’t have to be real,” Phoebe argues, “to mess things up.”

Troy hushes them.

I don’t turn to look at my friends. My mind is focused on the temple door above me and what is waiting for me inside. I spent the entire night wide-awake, sitting on Troy’s bed, thinking about this moment. Dreading it—but also anxious for the time to get here already.

“Stella’s right,” I say, not looking away from the door. “I don’t believe in jinxes.”

But I do believe in action.

Without another word, I put one boot in front of the other and march up the steps. This shouldn’t be so hard. I faced down one of the old gods yesterday. How much worse could Persephone be?