Miranda Sanchez winces, searching through her bag for the last crumbling bits of ambrosia. When she got her hands on Violet she was going to strangle the other girl. How in Hades had they managed to get separated in the labyrinthine streets of New Orleans?

The scent of jazz mingled with the thick humidity, a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the deserted alley she found herself in. The sun was setting, casting long shadows that twisted and danced, a reminder of how far she was from the safety of Camp Half-Blood. Her fingers closed around a few precious crumbs of ambrosia, and she quickly popped them into her mouth, feeling a surge of strength as the divine food worked its magic.

Miranda's black bob swayed as she scanned her surroundings, her grip tightening on her gun. She had never been one for archery, much to the dismay of her father, Apollo. Guns felt more direct, more real, and right now, she needed every bit of reality she could cling to.

"Damari! Violet!" she called out, her voice echoing off the brick walls. No response. Typical. She should have known better than to trust a son of Aphrodite and a daughter of Hermes to stick to the plan. She took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising panic. She was a daughter of Apollo, after all. She could handle this.

A rustle in the shadows caught her attention. Miranda spun around, aiming her gun at the source of the noise. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for whatever monster lurked in the darkness to reveal itself.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Show yourself!"