The Minotaur snorted. "The name is Asterion, thank you very much."

His voice was deep, smooth, and surprisingly relaxing, like the narrator of an audiobook.

"I—I'm sorry," Nico stammered, "but you can talk?"

"Hmph." Asterion lumbered toward him, making the floorboards creak. Every molecule in Nico's body screamed fight-or-flight, but he managed to hold his ground and keep his sword in its sheath.

The bull-man crouched to be eye to eye with them. "It figures that a demigod would assume I could not speak. Have you not come across many of my kind?"

Will took a step back, almost tripping over Defiance. "Uh, you mean other minotaurs? I thought you were unique."

Asterion twitched his large fuzzy ears, which Nico took as a sign of annoyance.

"I mean denizens of Tartarus in general," said the Minotaur. "Surely some have spoken to you?"

"Oh...yes," Will admitted. "It's just that...well, no one ever mentioned that you, specifically, could talk."

"I'm pretty sure Percy told us that the most you did was moo and yell," added Nico.

Too late, he realized it might be a bad idea mentioning Percy to the Minotaur. Percy had killed the guy twice—once with an ax, and once with his own horn. Nico tensed, ready for a crash course in bullfighting. Instead, Asterion just nodded.

"Percy...as in Jackson." His tone suggested grudging respect. "A formidable fighter. And you're right. We did not do a lot of talking." Asterion stroked his chin, which was a weird look for a bull. "I should like to make amends with Percy Jackson the next time we meet. I believe he is not far from this very spot at the moment. But he is not to be bothered." Asterion lowered his voice as if sharing a dangerous secret. "Something about...grades."

"Yes," said Hazel. "Not bothering Percy would be ideal."

Nico took this to mean Annabeth will kill us if we interrupt them during their first semester at New Rome University.

He rubbed his temples. He still felt a bit hazy from the shadow-travel... and now this. "Lot to take in."

"Yeah," said Will. "We've seen many things, but the Mino—"

"Asterion." The bull-man's voice dropped to a dangerous rumble. "Names have power, little demigod. I would greatly appreciate it if you used mine instead of referring to me by the epithet I was assigned."

Nico trembled. He didn't often feel afraid, but up close, Asterion was intimidating—a mountain of muscle and fur in a blue bath towel.

"Sorry," Will said. "Won't happen again."

The corner of Asterion's mouth twitched.... Was that a smile? "Thank you. I know you must be confused. My story...well, sometimes, even I cannot believe it."

"So you're here...why?" Will frowned at Hazel. "You're not, like, holding him hostage, are you?"

Hazel sniffed indignantly. "Will Solace, you know me better than that."

Asterion chuckled. "I am no hostage, my friend." He turned to Nico. "I am actually here because of both of you, son of Hades and son of Apollo."

Nico couldn't take it anymore. He wobbled and reached for Will. "I think I need to sit down."

Will guided him to one of the bunk beds. Then he whipped out a Kit Kat bar from his backpack. "Eat this."

Nico obliged. Meanwhile, Asterion somehow managed to drop to the floor and sit cross-legged opposite him. The Cocoa Puffs hopped around the bull-man, warily checking him out. They seemed to be having a contest to see which of them dared to get closest. Nico felt like his mind was going to fracture at any second. Here they were, just a few friends and demons, having a pleasant chat with a killer monster from Crete. He glanced at Hazel, silently begging her to make it make sense.

"He arrived here last week," Hazel explained, sitting beside Asterion. "One of the guards spotted him making his way down the hillside waving his, uh, surrender flag."

Asterion pinched the fabric of his kilt/towel thing, indicating that it had served as the flag in question. Nico desperately hoped the bull-man had been wearing something else underneath when he surrendered.

"I made it myself," Asterion said proudly. "It is customary for mortals to wave a blue flag when surrendering, is it not?"

"Um...close enough," Nico said. "But why come here? And what does it have to do with me?"

The bull-man rested his enormous hands on his knees. His fingernails were perfectly manicured, painted blue to match his kilt. "After Percy Jackson defeated me for the second time, my regeneration in Tartarus took over a year. By the time I was made whole again, everything in Tartarus seemed changed. The Doors of Death had closed, but there was still a sense that the boundary between our world and yours had weakened...perhaps permanently. I heard stories of demigods who had survived expeditions into Tartarus and returned to the upper world."

He paused. "Imagine how that felt—to believe that Tartarus was our realm alone, that it would mean certain death to anyone else who dared enter. And then to discover that three different demigods had successfully escaped the lowest, most terrible reaches of the Underworld!"

"Four demigods," Will corrected. "I'm the fourth." He'd been nibbling on a brownie from his Bag of Infinite Snacks, but when Asterion turned to study him, he paused, suddenly looking self-conscious. "Sorry," Will said. "Please continue."

Asterion lowered his head. "I began to suspect that the old rules no longer applied.... I waited to see what I would be asked to do in this new regeneration, which god or spirit might call upon me to do their bidding. But I received no summons. I wandered Tartarus, waiting for a purpose."

"A purpose?" Nico leaned forward. He still felt dizzy, but the Kit Kat bar was starting to make its way through his metabolism, shoring up his stamina through the magic of wafers and chocolate. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know the legend of my creation?" Asterion asked.

Will took another bite of brownie. "I mean...sort of? At camp, they tell the story of how Poseidon wanted revenge on King Minos, so he cursed Queen Pasiphaë into falling in love with a white bull. And the baby was..." He gestured at the bull-man.

Asterion's wet nostrils flared. "That much is true, unfortunately. My very birth was predicated on a trick. A terrible deception. Then, once I began to grow, my mother believed it was best that I be housed within a labyrinth."

Hazel patted his hand, which was three times the size of hers. She glanced at Nico. "They said it was because he was too fierce and violent, tearing up the palace, eating people. But that wasn't true. Minos and Pasiphaë just didn't want to be embarrassed by his presence."

Nico felt a twinge of sympathy. He knew about being stowed away, kept out of sight by a parent.

"I guess I never thought of it from your point of view," he told Asterion. "You didn't get a choice, did you?"

"Correct, son of Hades." Asterion's mouth twitched again—definitely a sad smile. Nico was starting to figure out bovine facial expressions. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing. "No one asked me whether I wanted to have seven youths and seven maidens sacrificed to me every seven years! I don't even like human flesh. You taste like...what do you call it? Beef jerky?"

Will shuddered. "That's a fun mental image."

Hazel nodded in agreement. "I haven't eaten any since he said the same thing to me."

"But that is not the point," said Asterion. "I was never asked what I wanted to do. Not in my mortal life. Nor afterward, when I was killed for the first time and sent to the Underworld."

"By Theseus," Nico said.

He knew immediately he'd said something wrong. Asterion's brown eyes turned red.

"Do not say that fool's name in my presence." His booming voice echoed through the barracks.

"Sorry!" Nico raised his hands in concession. "I should have figured he was a sensitive subject."

"Did you know that nightmare of a human did not even kill me on purpose?"

Hazel leaned back. "What? I haven't heard this part."

"I had nearly defeated him!" Asterion huffed loudly. "Then he slipped in a pool of his own blood and accidentally stabbed me! He got lucky!"

"Am I hallucinating?" Will asked.

"No, son of Apollo," said the bull-man. "Your mind is sound."

"Is it?" Will whispered to himself.

The whole situation was so absurd, Nico wanted to laugh, but Asterion's eyes still glowed like laser beams. He decided not to risk it. "So, after the Labyrinth, you regenerated in Tartarus...."

"And my existence settled into a routine," Asterion said. "It was the same for millennia. People in power summoned me—gods, Titans, greater primordials—and sent me after their enemies. I...I killed many over the years. I was always told You are terrifying. You are dangerous. Kill this hero. Eat that hero. Bellow and rampage! That is your job! But after Percy Jackson, when I regenerated once again in Tartarus, there was only silence. Time stretched endlessly before me. Without any real purpose, I began to wonder: What did I want to do?"

The barracks filled with a tense silence.

Finally, Will asked, "Did you figure it out?"

Asterion grunted, his eyes mellowing to a warm brown. "While I may sometimes curse my birth, I am pleased that I was born with human hands." He wriggled his banana-size fingers. "During my years in the Labyrinth, I learned that I have a natural skill for one thing...."

"Arm wrestling?" guessed Nico.

"Singing?" asked Will.

Nico and Hazel looked at him quizzically.

"Well, he has a nice bass voice," Will explained

"Wrong on both counts," said Asterion. "What I excel at is..." From the back of his kilt, he whipped out two thin metal spikes. For a moment, Nico was afraid the bull-man was going to announce that his natural skill was shanking demigods. Then Nico realized he'd seen spikes like those before. His nonna in Venice had never been without a pair, along with a ball of yarn.

"Those are knitting needles," he said.

"Indeed!" Asterion said. "I even knit my own underwear!"

With no warning, he stood and ripped off his kilt.

Hazel yelped. The Cocoa Puffs scattered.

Nico tried to shield his eyes. Surely, if the true forms of gods could make mortals spontaneously combust, monster groins could do the same. But beneath the kilt, Asterion wore a pair of hand-knit tighty-whities even brighter than the freshly painted barracks walls.

"Asterion!" Hazel cried. "Please have some modesty!"

"Hmph." The bull-man planted his fists at his sides à la Superman. "I have no need for what you humans refer to as 'modesty.' Look at this stitchwork. Look at this continental purling! Besides, do you not also wear underwear?"

"Yes," Hazel said, "but we usually wear it...under?"

Asterion grumbled and put his kilt back on while Nico looked over at Will. His boyfriend's eyes seemed to be frozen open from the trauma of TMU—too much underwear.

"Nico," he said softly, "do you remember Carl and Bartholomew?"

Nico nodded, picturing the two boneheaded aeternae they had encountered in Tartarus.

"This is worse." Will shook himself like a dog trying to dry off. "So, Asterion...I mean, first of all, that's some lovely knitting—"

"Thank you!" Asterion sat down again next to Hazel. "You know, this is the same pair I wore when I first fought Percy Jackson, but he said nothing about my stitchwork. Nothing." He paused. "In his defense, it was quite dark that night."

"But how did you get here?" Will asked.

Asterion glanced over at Hazel, who patted his knee encouragingly.

"I heard what you did for the Titan," he finally said.

Nico smiled. "Bob?"

"That is his name now, is it not?" Asterion sat up straighter and pushed out his chest. "Bob. A noble name. Simple yet elegant, like a garter stitch."

"But what does that have to do with you?" Nico asked.

"You are not aware of the impact you have had, son of Hades! You willingly came to Tartarus to help a Titan! You defied those great forces who would require us to serve as mindless weapons forever. You showed us another way."

"And when you say us, you mean..." Nico was hesitant to use the usual term, but he didn't know what else to call them. "Monsters?"

Asterion heaved a deep sigh. "We prefer mythics. The term monsters, you must agree, is rather...what do you call it? Loaded. Ever since we were first called that, we were given no choice but to be monsters. There were the occasional rebels, but they were rare exceptions. The rest of us? We were used. Manipulated. Enslaved to the whims of those who wished only for violence and chaos."

Nico thought of Nyx in Tartarus. He remembered Bob challenging her, accusing her of not knowing it was possible to change. The goddess had felt no need to be different. I am perfect as I am.

Nico felt his rage building, hot and ferocious. He knew exactly what Asterion was describing. Then he looked down and found Anger chewing on his sock. The Puff looked up at him and opened its mouth—which took up most of its body—revealing hundreds of teeth.

"The sight of your demons comforts me," said Asterion. "Your peaceful coexistence with them confirms my belief that you and Will Solace are best suited for helping me achieve my goal."

Hazel nodded. "I agree."

"And what exactly is your goal?" asked Nico.

The cacodemon Longing waddled over to the bull-man. Asterion patted its head, apparently unaffected by the Puff's power.

"After I heard the story of your trip to Tartarus," Asterion said, "I decided to return to the mortal world on my own. It was a difficult journey. I clawed and scraped my way to the surface, thinking that I would seek you out, Nico di Angelo, at Camp Half-Blood. But for whatever reason, my instincts brought me here instead. I emerged in the hills just above Camp Jupiter."

Hazel smiled. "I like to think it's because you have good taste."

The bull-man's laugh sounded like a revving truck engine. "Perhaps, Praetor. I watched the camp for many days before approaching. I admired their regimen of discipline. Their camaraderie. The legion exists to protect this valley and all who live in it. I wanted to be part of such a community. I felt that I could settle here safely."

"Settle?" Nico stared at Hazel. "Asterion is going to live here?"

Hazel and Asterion exchanged a knowing look.

"It's a little more complicated than that," Hazel said. "I do want him to stay. I think Camp Jupiter would benefit greatly from his presence."

"And I believe I would benefit from being around demigods every day," said Asterion. "I could offer knitting lessons!"

Hazel fixed her gaze on Anger, who was still trying to chew off Nico's sock. "Unfortunately, there's been pushback from some in the legion."

Nico remembered how on edge the sentries Yazan and Savannah had acted. He recalled the graffiti scrawled on a wall where everyone could see it: NON INIMICOS LICET. No enemies allowed.

"We've had over forty new demigods join us since you were here last," Hazel added. "That's a lot of new people to assimilate at once. A lot of instability, even before we asked our legionnaires to adjust to..." She gestured at Asterion.

"There has been friction," the bull-man admitted. "Some demigods of Camp Jupiter are..." He tilted his head as he tried to summon the right words. "They are not as open-minded as Hazel or yourselves. They avoid us. Call us names. Pick fights. And I must admit that some of us are also quick to anger."

"Hold on," Will broke in. "Us?"

Hazel wore the same strained expression she'd had on yesterday's Irismessage. "We're not just talking about Asterion. Others followed him here."

Nico scrunched his eyebrows together. "Others as in mon—mythics?"

"You will meet them later today," said Asterion. "All we want is a chance to live in peace. To find a new purpose that we have chosen ourselves."

Nico tried to process all this. It was a lot. There weren't enough Kit Kat bars in the world to tame his headache. "So what do you need me and Will for?"

"Support," said Hazel. "Your word means something here, Nico. You're still the ambassador from Pluto, an honorary member of the New Roman senate. You and Will survived Tartarus. That's...well, legendary."

"You two changed the Underworld," agreed Asterion. "Your defeat of Nyx and your rescue of Bob gave the rest of us hope. Many of us did not want the job of being monsters. We've had nowhere to go—until now."

Asterion rose to one knee, bowing his head to Nico.

"Please help us," he said. "I beseech you with humility. We understand why the mortals are suspicious and afraid. We too are nervous. We do not yet know how to live side by side. But you two inspire by example! A son of Apollo and a son of Hades. Two survivors of Tartarus. A bridge between worlds, if ever there was one. Hazel and I believe that no one could help transform minds better than the two of you."

Hazel brushed away a tear, though Nico wasn't sure if it was from love or sadness or worry. "It's true," she said. "I respect you both so much. And if there's anything I've learned through our experiences together, it's that sometimes you just need to ask for help!"

Nico's vision started to blur from exhaustion. He looked at Will, but he knew what Will would be thinking. Will's personality was composed of equal parts warmth, compassion, and optimism, with a sprinkling of humor and tasty baked goods. Of course he would want to help.

Nico wasn't sure how he felt about being an example, much less a bridge between worlds. He was still getting used to handling the projector for the orientation film at Camp Half-Blood. But as he gazed at the bullman kneeling next to his half sister, affection filled his heart. He knew he had to help. At least, he had to try.

"I'd be glad to," he said. "But first, can I take a nap?"