The throne room of Hades felt smaller the longer they stood in it.
Shadows crawled along the black stone walls, stretching and recoiling like they were listening. The torches burned without warmth. Percy stood at the foot of the dais, fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms, the three pearls heavy in his pocket like stones dragging him under.
"Please," Percy said, his voice cracking despite everything he did to hold it together. "You said you'd release her. My mom. You said—"
Hades leaned back on his throne, skeletal fingers steepled, eyes like pits of dying stars. "I said I would consider it," he replied coolly. "After you fulfill your promises."
Annabeth stepped forward, anger sharpening her fear. "That wasn't the deal."
"There is always another deal," Hades said mildly. "Bring me my Helm of Darkness. Expose the thief. Then—" His smile was thin and cruel. "—perhaps the mortal woman walks free."
Percy's chest burned. "You're holding her hostage."
"I am a god," Hades snapped, the shadows flaring. "I hold what is mine."
Cynthia watched quietly from Percy's side, arms crossed, jaw tight. She didn't interrupt. She could feel it—this was already decided. Gods didn't bend. They waited for mortals to break.
Hades waved a dismissive hand. "Go. Time flows differently here, but not kindly. Linger too long and the living forget how to breathe."
They turned away from the throne.
Only when the palace doors groaned shut behind them did Percy stop walking.
He pulled the pearls from his pocket and opened his hand.
Three white lights glowed softly against his skin.
Grover stared. "No."
Annabeth went still. Too still. "There were four of us."
Silence fell—thick, suffocating.
Cynthia was the first to speak.
"I'll stay."
Percy's head snapped up. "What?"
"I'll stay here," she said again, steady. "It makes sense."
"No," Grover bleated, panic sharp. "No, no, no, that's not—"
Annabeth shook her head hard. "We're not even having this conversation."
Cynthia turned to them fully now, eyes dark but calm. "We don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice," Annabeth shot back. "We'll find another way. We'll steal something, trick someone—"
"Annabeth," Cynthia said gently. "This is the way."
Percy stepped closer to her, disbelief giving way to anger. "You're just deciding this? Alone?"
She met his gaze. "Someone has to."
"You don't get to sacrifice yourself because it's 'logical'," he said, voice rising. "That's not how a team works!"
Grover's hands shook. "You'll be stuck here. With him. With monsters and—"
"With answers," Cynthia said quietly.
They all stared at her.
"I'm unclaimed," she continued. "No god's marked me. No throne waiting. No prophecy written with my name in it." She took a breath. "The nereid looked at me differently. She knew. This place—" She glanced back toward the palace. "—it pulls at me. Not like Tartarus did. Like… recognition."
Annabeth's voice wavered despite her effort. "That doesn't mean you belong here."
"No," Cynthia agreed. "But it means I can endure it."
Percy shook his head, throat tight. "I won't let you do this."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "You don't have to let me," she said. "Just don't waste it."
The words hit harder than any blow.
Annabeth turned away, fists clenched, breathing fast. "I hate this," she muttered. "I hate gods. I hate prophecies. I hate that this makes sense."
Grover sniffed loudly, then dug into his pocket. He pulled out a crushed soda can, painted with shaky green symbols. "Lucky charm," he said, voice breaking. "Nature magic. It's not much, but… it's helped before." He pressed it into Cynthia's hand. "Please don't die."
Cynthia closed her fingers around it. "I won't."
Annabeth swallowed, then reached up and pulled the Yankees cap from her head. For a second, she hesitated—then she placed it in Cynthia's hands.
"Invisibility," she said tightly. "It'll keep you off most radars. Don't use it near gods. And don't lose it."
Cynthia's eyes widened. "Annabeth—"
"You're not arguing me down from this," Annabeth said. "So take it."
Percy hadn't moved.
He just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Cynthia.
No words. No speeches.
Just a fierce, silent hug, like he was trying to memorize the fact that she was real, and here, and alive.
She stiffened in surprise—then hugged him back.
"Get her back," she whispered. "Both of them."
He nodded against her shoulder.
They didn't look back as they used the pearls.
Light flared—salt and wind and pain—and then they were gone.
Cynthia stood alone at the edge of the Underworld, invisibility cap tucked tight, lucky charm warm in her palm, the echo of their footsteps already fading.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't waiting to be chosen.
She had chosen.
And the gods would have to reckon with that.