The labyrinth was endless. That was something Ethan was completely sure of, disappearing into it, and intending to use it as an escape from the war. He didn't feel guilt for it; people left their countries all the time during the first and second world wars when it was becoming too much for them. Ethan wasn't like the idealistic demigods, who believed that the gods would change, and that the gods would start loving them out of the blue; he wasn't like the angry demigods who saw nothing other than for Olympus to be razed and for the land to swallow the gods. He wasn't stupid either; he knew that there definitely were demigods who were hesitant to pick a side or another, but as far as he knew, he was the first one to make a decision to withdraw from the war altogether. Demigods were born with an natural urge to fight, as in the ancient times, and their primal instinct would, of course, be to participate in the war—this applied for all of them: pacifistic children of Demeter, intelligent children of Athena, bored children of Aphrodite, sunny children of Apollo, calm children of Hephaestus—none were spared of the godly blood running through their veins, ordering them to fight.

Ethan was no stranger to these urges. As a demigod, he was born with an arm that was meant to wield power, and use it for everything he could. He had thought long and hard of his decision, arguing with the parts of him that called him a coward for not fighting. That was something that the Trojans and the Greeks shared—the spirit of war. In a way, war was something inevitable for demigods, a curse laid to the ruins of the gods, forever to be held by every sworn breath. It was not an easy feat to deny that part of himself what it was promised.

But if anyone could do it, it'd be Ethan. He had always had an affinity for knowing balance, for knowing when the scales tipped and when they did not. He could grasp the concept of probability, and estimate it, far better than anyone else could. It wasn't something he put much thought to, but it had always been a way he'd use to display the odds, and decide what option would be best.

Of course, to balance the odds of each side winning the war would be a fool's errand. It would only prolong the inevitable end the Fates had spun for them and it would result in many more lost. Not many people at camp, no matter which side of the war they were on now, were unkind to him. He did not wish them death personally. The balance he was looking for, even if it was selfish, was for himself. And what better way to achieve balance then to not choose a side at all?

The labyrinth was a maze, only living. Ethan had done his fair share of research on it; he hadn't even tried to try and learn how to navigate it, seeing as how it seemed rather useless to him, he'd just went in blindly, as far as he was concerned, and let his balance guide him. At first, his goal was to find a way out, with the help of a little glowing blue triangle—a delta symbol—where he'd get himself somewhere far, far away from Manhattan or New York, and settle down nicely, maybe flip burgers or something. But the longer he was in the labyrinth, it felt more and more like something was whispering in his ear, telling him to stay.

The only thing he really felt bad for, while walking around the labyrinth while nibbling at a sandwich he'd packed, was for being dishonest to Kia about going to look for that kid. She had looked as him so confidently, like she was completely at ease with the thought of Ethan going to look for the kid, and finding him, too, that Ethan couldn't help but pay attention to the uncomfortable pit in his stomach that formed whenever his mind would trace back to it.

Kia. Ethan wouldn't say that she was the only person at camp who'd ever been nice to him, because she wasn't, but the way she treated him wasn't something he had felt often. She treated him like he was... there. He had heard from others mumbles that she was a daughter of a god named Morpheus, but he expected for that to be all he'd ever know or hear about her. He hadn't expected her to treat him like a friend despite barely having talked, or laugh with him when he said something dryly funny.

He knew that it could have been literally any other camper that might've, by chance, slept in the same sleeping bag, and ended up in a position where they were the one friends with Kia, as far as the term could be stretched between them, but it was not Kia's individual treatment of him that made him feel this way. It was simply her. She trusted him enough to go after a kid that was upset. That was more than Ethan could say for others.

Of course, he couldn't blame it all on others. He hadn't made a great deal of effort to present himself as approachable, by any means, but the first person to not try to bypass it, but embrace it, had been Kia. Ethan supposed maybe that the fact that she was the first had something to do with it.

What he hadn't expected, going into the labyrinth, was to actually find the kid. In his defence, he didn't expect the kid to be a total moron, either.

The kid was sniffling in a weird, cut-off corner, and the shadows around him were clinging to him, like they were looking for his attention. It would've looked kind of cool if the kid didn't have snot running down his nose. He looked up at Ethan, and they stared at each other for a few seconds, right up to the point where it became awkward.

Ethan broke the eye contact, looking around the drab area they were in. He'd stumbled in here while walking aimlessly, which was quite dangerous given he'd read a bit somewhere about how the labyrinth supposedly caused hallucinations the more misdirected you were and the deeper you went, and found him.

The kid spoke first. "You didn't come in here to find me, did you?"

It sounded like he already knew the answer, so Ethan didn't lie. "No."

At least the kid didn't look disappointed. He didn't really look like he cared all that much about Ethan. It was at this point that Ethan realised he didn't even remember the kid's name. Well this would be awkward.

"Um, Joan, right?"

The kid sneered. "Do I look like I'd be named Joan?"

Ethan put his hands up in surrender. "Technically, parents don't know what their kid's faces will look like when they're older so there's no point in trying to guess your name through your face."

"Well, that's the only thing you had to base a guess off of," the kid argued. He seemed like a smartass. So annoying.

It was quiet, until the kid said something. His voice was small when he said, "It's Nico. Nico di Angelo."

So the kid was Italian.

At that point, it had become an unspoken agreement that they'd travel together, at least until decided otherwise or one of them was... incapacitated. For survival reasons, of course.

They walked in silence, except for the occasional sound of a juice box emptying. What? Nutrition is important.

Ethan felt bad for Nico. He had seen the kid running around energetically in the Hermes cabin and smiling with his entire face all day, but now he looked so subdued, so miserable and quiet. Most of all, he looked angry. Too angry for a child. If there was one thing Ethan knew in this world, it was that children weren't supposed to look so angry. The more he thought of it, Ethan realised just how much Nico was seeming to be all the things a child shouldn't be. He was angry, hurt, betrayed, sad, upset—you name it. It didn't look right in his young eyes.

In a pathetic attempt to get him to feel better, Ethan suggested they stop for the night and sleep. There was no time in the labyrinth, so there was no way to tell whether it was an appropriate time to sleep, but Ethan figured a good few hours had passed since they'd both entered the labyrinth—long enough to pretend that he was actually tired and not just trying to get Nico to sleep. Ethan didn't think he'd take too kindly to that.

Nico had looked at him suspiciously, like he was looking through fractured lenses. Ethan could tell by his rigid mannerisms that he was still cynical of his motives, but he laid down and curled up in a little ball anyway. The shadows around him seemed to intensify, like they were sealing him in. It was then that Ethan realised that Nico was probably the cause of it. The shadows weren't trying to swallow him, they were trying to protect him. Ethan wasn't sure whether they'd snap at his fingers or make Nico wake with his guard up, but he wasn't all too keen to find out.

After sitting down, Ethan finally felt how tired he was. His calf-muscles were sore and his shoulders were still tensed. The labyrinth had a way of keeping him on his toes. He probably wasn't supposed to sleep, seeing as how them both being unconscious and unprotected could be a huge threat to both of them, but the coldness of the stone wall reminded him too much of the cold side of the pillows at Camp Half-Blood, no matter how pitiful that sounded, and the sudden quietude of the place was making him sleepy. He was exhausted; a little bit of shut-eye couldn't hurt, could it?

It seemed Ethan hadn't planned out every single step as thoroughly as he thought he had, because he had forgotten that sleep meant dreams, and dreams, for demigods, meant nightmares.

In his dream, he was in a bathtub. The water was still running, and the sensation of cool liquid drowned his pores. It was actually quite relaxing. The temperature was a little lower than the room but not freezing, just the way Ethan liked it. He never understood why people preferred hot showers; he'd always allow others to go into the shower first (which was a seemingly selfless move, given he was in the Hermes cabin), and wait till the very last person came out to go in. He appreciated the coldness of the water cooling his mind down from its naturally ADHD state.

The rush of the water was loud in his ears and his head was still slightly above the water. Taking a deep breath and closing, Ethan plunged underneath, feeling the coldness wash over his face. It felt so nice. For a few seconds, Ethan enjoyed the appeasing feeling. But then something felt wrong.

His eyes snapped open, and he saw that the water was tinged with red. The red diffusing into the water was more concentrated somewhere below his line of sight. He looked lower, and he saw that the trail of blood was coming from his nose. He opened his mouth in a scream, and more blood gushed out of it. The blood was infecting the water, turning it into a scarlet. The water tasted coppery, even though Ethan couldn't taste it when the blood was sealed in his mouth.

Ethan's arms grabbed at the edges of the bathtub, pulling himself up with a gasp.

Turns out, a bit of shut-eye absolutely could hurt.

He had woken up, but there were three problems. One, Nico was nowhere to be found. Two, he had no idea where he was because this was definitely not where he was before he had fallen asleep. Three, there was a fucking snake in front of him.

The snake was terribly large, probably occupying half the volume as Ethan, and had two ram horns jutting out of its head, and was a sickly yellow colour with glinting yellow scales. Not the best thing to wake up to.

Now, Ethan typically wasn't all too afraid of snakes. They were long and kind of gross because of the slithery part, but that was it. But here, in this time and position? There was no way it wasn't something demigod related.

The snake moved weirdly, too. It was too swift, even for a snake. It spun and slithered with much agility; Ethan was thinking of snakes he'd learnt about at the monster classes at camp, but if he was being honest, he never really paid much attention.

The snake wasn't waiting for him to figure out what the hell it was, however. It snapped at him, hissing venomously (no pun intended). Ethan jumped to his feet, drawing out his sword, Issoropía—Equilibrium, and holding it out desperately at the snake. Usually, he'd be eager to test out how well he'd fare against a monster, but something told him this was going to be an extra challenge.

Ethan swiped with his sword, experimenting to see how the snake would react to it. He got his answer, alright. The snake spun into a circle midair, using its tail to spring off the wall. Ethan was cautious of the horns, seeing as how they could impale him effortlessly.

He tried a bunch of moves: sidestepping swiping, slicing, ducking—but nothing worked. It seemed that no matter what he did, the snake was gaining on him. It didn't help that the snake was massive.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman, leaning against the stone wall, which Ethan finally saw was brighter than the darker stone walls he had previously been led by. This is why he could actually see. He had no idea where the light bouncing of the walls was coming from, but he figured not to question his luck. She looked on like she was watching an entertaining show. It infuriated Ethan.

She was obviously a demigod or a god or some deity he couldn't care less about, and yet she stood there looking on with absolute amusement, not helping at all. It was feeding Ethan's anger, and he wanted to do the same to her. Have her as a companion for a while and then shove her in the dirt whenever she needed help the most.

Either way, the anger was started to help Ethan. He was determined to get rid of this thing all by himself. He swung more sharply, the blade audibly slicing through the air, jabbing at the monster. The monster bent like it had no spine, bending to duck underneath the sword theatrically. His eyesight became sharper, and he kept looking for ways to kill it.

And then it hit him.

He sliced a little lower than he would've if he were trying to get a direct hit, but higher than he would've if he were trying to cut it in half. The snake's horns came right in front of him, and with his left arm, he grabbed one of them, spinning it out of his face. The tail slapped around wildly, and the snake's mouth fell open, trying to bite Ethan. He pinned the tail down with his boot, even though it was difficult to keep down because of the slippery scales on the snake. Then, with one clean swipe, the sword came down and thing was a pile of golden dust.

He was panting, but Ethan found that actually liked the feeling of killing it. It was exhilarating and a little exciting. Slow clapping came from his right. He turned and saw the woman from earlier, approaching him with slow steps.

Closer, he could see that the woman had wild and curly hair, black eyes and tanned skin. Her face was jagged and cruel, with blood-scarlet lips and a thin face. She had a face that looked like it always fell into a sneer.

"Who the hell are you?" Ethan demanded, holding his sword out at her before she came any closer.

She pushed it away by the flat of it like it was no threat. She smirked.

"That's no way to treat your mother, Ethan."

That's right, folks. We're starting with an Ethan chapter, because he's awesome. The first chapter of The Battle of the Labyrinth. Damn.