It was loud.

The kind of loud that thumped in your chest and made the floors feel like they had a heartbeat of their own. The room was packed — all fake blood, cheap wigs, and glittery mesh, the kind of chaotic glamour only college parties managed to pull off this well. Plastic bats dangled from the ceiling. A fog machine wheezed near the corner like it was on its last breath. Jericho adjusted the bandage shirt wrapped around his chest, tugging at the sleeves where they had started to itch. He hated Halloween. Or maybe it was just the rain that always came with it. Still, he made the effort for tonight. For his friends. For the little sliver of joy he saw when they’d all agreed to come together. Still, there was a warmth to it all. Colored lights flickered over paper bats and cardboard gravestones, laughter echoing down the halls, a crowd of mismatched costumes drifting through the open house like candy-colored ghosts. He spotted Deryl near the snack table, already double-fisting caramel apples. Brittney and Jess were huddled nearby, probably gossiping. Geo loomed near the stairs like a decorative gargoyle. But it wasn’t any of them that made him stop in his tracks. It was you.

At first he thought maybe the lighting had caught you wrong— but no, it was you. You in something so unlike the usual you. The gauzy folds of gold-yellow fabric floated with every small move, glowing like late sunlight. The gold at your waist glinted, subtle but rich. And your legs—he nearly did a double take when he saw the slit. Your curls framed your face just so. There were freckles. Of course there were. He’d memorized them ages ago. You were talking to Sol. And Hyugo, of all people. Jericho tilted his head, arms folded. The way Sol stood — too close, leaning in — made his brows pinch just slightly, though he brushed it off. He’d always been a little off when it came to Sol. But maybe that was just jealousy talking. Still, your costume. You never dressed up. Not really. And definitely not like this. He felt something flutter deep in his ribs. He made his way over, weaving through people until he was close enough for his voice to be heard over the music.

Then, finally —

“Did Olympus lose one of their own tonight, or am I just that lucky?”