I nearly kicked myself for forgetting communication was down and that I couldn't IM Annabeth.

How the Hades was I supposed to think and process something by myself?

Sighing, I collapsed onto my bed, studying the glow-in-the-dark stars that my mom and I had stuck up ages ago. But I still liked them. Their luminous star-shaped glow in the dark reminded me of acquaintances, of friends that had given their lives up to do what they believed was right.

So many people had died during the past few years. Way too many then there should have been. Although no one wanted to admit it, the death rate was slowly, but gradually increasing. The Mist was getting thinner and more and more mortals were clear sighted, making everything even more difficult than usual.

The scent of demigods was getting stronger, and people were getting quests every three seconds, with the rate of survival so low, it could hardly be plotted on a graph.

Camp Half-Blood had about an eighth of the amount of kids they should've had. It was just too dangerous for demigods to go out anymore. And I wanted to stop that.

But no one would listen. And so I was powerless to do anything, to help the situation, to help the kids.

I got out of bed, slowly making my way to the kitchen as Mom's voice rang out, calling me for lunch.

***

If you predicted that a dinner around the table with the three of us would be awkward, you would be right.

No one dared to speak, and when they did, the silence soon rose up and washed over them, their sentence lost in the wave.

But that wouldn't stop Mom.

"Percy," she said, "I know you're upset. I would be too. But we must try to brave what we know is right."

"What if we don't know what's right?" I asked.

She sighed. "We trust our instincts, the tug in our guts that whisper what to do."

"I thought that was our conscience."

"Same thing," she said, laughing.

"But most importantly," Paul chimed in, "we try our best. We pour our whole heart and soul into it so that no one can tell us we didn't try."

"Teacher logic," I mumbled, just loud enough for Paul to catch a whisper of it.

He placed a hand on my back, a small, insignificant action that somehow said everything at the same time.

"Hey," he said, "whatever you decide, we support you. Your choices will never drown out our love for you."

I sighed, collecting up my cutlery. "Thanks."

Mom smiled, her usual warm gaze seeming even brighter than usual. "Always."

***

I sat on my bed with a textbook, knowing I should probably study, but lacking the motivation to do so. I flipped through the pages restlessly, as if the scribble of letters and notes would suddenly inspire me to actually read it.

A soft knock on the door gave me my excuse to stop on my pretty much hopeless case.

"Hey," Mom said, poking her head around the door as she sighted me on my unmade bed, "may I come in?"

I gave her a half nod, as she took the invite and settled next to me on the bed.

Her blue eyes gazed off into the distance, as if she were trying to catch a glimpse of her dreams, building up her vision in her mind.

"I haven't seen them for ages, you know," she said, still not making eye contact, but lacking the glossed-over look she had in her eyes just a few seconds before.

I glanced up at her. "Your family?"

She nodded, somehow translating all her emotions in a short, single movement.

"You miss them," I stated, proving my suspicions right as she gave a small sigh as she looked back at them.

"I feel like I shouldn't," she admitted, her shoulders hunched up in the stress, "but there are just times when I think I hear the first few notes of an old Norse melody, or the parting steps of a dance, and I get hit by a wave of… longing."

"They're your family, " I said, "of course you would miss them."

"I know. It's just that… well, they've done terrible things. I've done terrible things. My family's messed up, Percy."

I gave a low, shallow laugh. "Godly families usually are."

Mom gave me a wary smile, her eyes twinkling in silent agreement.

"I think you should visit them," I said, sincerely. All I wanted was for her to be happy.

She folded her hand over mine, smiling. "I think we should both go."

***

A family trip to Boston the next day was not what I had in mind when Mom said we would visit her family.

I thought we would make some offering or something of that sort, and no matter what warped vision was residing in my mind, it differently did not include Mom and I gazing up at the Citco sign, as if a pass to the Norse heaven would suddenly appear.

"The Bifrost Bridge usually anchors here," Mom said as a way of explanation, still staring at the sign as if it had stolen her cookies, and believe me, that is not a look you want to see.

My eyes flickered away, wondering if it was safe up here. "Maybe we should come back another time?"

"No," Mom said, "we came all this way, and I am not going to waste it by just going home. Look. On the count of three we are going to look up and we are going to see a Rainbow bridge."

I nodded, skeptically.

"One."

My heart rate started to quicken in suspense.

"Two."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, just waiting for the next word.

"Three."

My eyes flickered open. I blinked, then blinked again, not quite sure my eyes were seeing the gleaming rainbow bridge correctly.

The perspective of the world seemed to shift, so I was staring at the Citco sign from a forty-five-degree angle rather than a perpendicular one. From the top of the sign, a burning sheet of colors arced into the inky sky.

Mom hesitantly took a step on the Citco sign and with a flash of white, vaporized into nothing.

"Mom!" I screamed, blindly following her.

The world blurred into a multitude of colors, briefly flashing a pure, bright white, then spinning back into color again, my eyes aching from the strain.

Behind, Boston blurred into a deep black landscape of stars, and I found myself scanning the sky for Zoe, a hollow pang running through my body as I mouthed the words, "Bob says hello." Exhaling deeply, I managed to stop the tears that were threatening me, and look back at Mom, who was still enraptured by the night sky.

"I'd forgotten what the stars looked like," Mom breathed.

I nodded quietly, the sharp pain of guilt piercing my heart as Mom took my hand, starting to make our way up the rainbow, the promise of untimely goodbyes and new beginnings fresh in our hearts.