Go to sleep, dweller-baby. I’ll kill Elowin as soon as we find her.” He didn’t sound like he was kidding. Each word was low and laced with truth.

“Next time, just say like … sleep well, or something normal,” I said. “Not go to sleep, I’ll be murdering someone in no time. It doesn’t sound as comforting as you think it does.

I’m sick of them. I never want to see them again. Except Aros; he smells nice. And Rome; because he’s so strong I’m pretty sure not even Rau can get past him. I don’t need the others. Except Siret. I’m pretty sure he hates me, but he’s really good at catching me like just before I face-plant into something. But the others, I don’t need them. Not at all.” I paused, my brow furrowing, my mouth pursing, and then I quickly blurted, “Except Coen and Yael. Coen is really good at making decisions, and if I leave out Yael he’ll probably hunt me down and haunt me-”
“That's all of them,” Emmy interrupted smoothly.

I still didn’t turn. Instead, I just listened really hard. I couldn’t tell where he was standing anymore, but I could sense that he was still there somewhere. Well obviously … because he didn’t exactly jump out of the window.

Yeah, that’s what Jeffrey said too. Oh, wait … Jeffrey said something about a Sacred Abil and the Trophy of Stavlini, or Stavriti, or Stav … something.”

“Staviti?” The hysteria in Emmy’s voice was definitely becoming prominent now. “The Trophy of Staviti? You stole the Trophy of Staviti?”

I clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle her shriek. “No!” I answered reflexively. “Or yes. Kind of. Maybe. Why?”

She gave a muffled answer, and I realised that I was still holding my hand over her mouth. I pulled away, allowing her to speak again.

“You don’t know who Staviti is, Willa? Seriously? You couldn’t pay attention in class even for that much?”

“I knew it sounded familiar,” I grumbled, feeling defensive. “Is it the god of … um … food or something?

Percy: I’ll walk down to the cabins and Connor and Travis are stealing stuff from the camp store, and Silena is arguing with Annabeth trying to give her a new makeover, and Clarisse is still sticking the new kids’ head into the toilets. It’s nice that some things never change.

She waves the match in the air like a magic wand and its flame transforms into a puff of smoke. The smoke curls and stretches into a halo around auntie's gray hair.