His parents' first tangible contribution to camp preparation was his father spending two Saturdays in a row driving him along the approximate route to New York, not because they were leaving yet but because Marcus Alexander believed that preparation meant knowing the terrain and that 'knowing the terrain' was not a metaphor for his father; it was a literal statement about the value of having driven a road before you drove it in urgency.
They did not drive all the way to New York on a Saturday in January. They drove the Louisiana section and part of Mississippi and his father asked questions about the monster threat level at each leg and Kael answered them with the combination of what he knew from the books and what Theron had told him, and by the end of it his father had a map with notes on it in his small precise handwriting.
His mother's contribution was more personal. She went through her family's archive — what remained of it, the boxes from Aurelie's house and the things her own mother had kept — and found, wrapped in tissue paper in a cedar box, a small iron key on a cord.
'I don't know exactly what it is,' she said, handing it to him. 'Aurelie's sister had it. She said it was old. She said to keep it in the family.'
He held the key. It was warm in his hand in a way iron should not be warm. The shimmer around it was Hecate-shimmer, deep and crossroads-colored.
'It's a key,' he said. 'For a door that exists at a crossroads. Not a specific crossroads — any crossroads where Hecate's presence is strong.' He turned it over in his fingers. 'I think it's one of Hecate's keys. A small one. Old. It would have been Céline's.'
His mother was quiet for a moment. Then: 'What does it open?'
'I don't know exactly. Something at a crossroads. A path that isn't visible from the outside.' He put it on. The cord was old but sound. 'Thank you. I don't think I should use it without understanding it better. But I should have it.'
His mother looked at him wearing the key. Her expression was the expression she had for moments that confirmed something she had been holding for a long time.
'She waited for the right person,' Mirela said. 'Aurelie's sister. She didn't know who it was for. She just knew it wasn't for her.' A pause. 'I think it was for you.'
He thought about Aurelie's last diary entry. I hope whoever it wakes in is not afraid of it. He touched the key.
'I think so too,' he said.
[ ITEM REGISTERED — HECATE'S KEY ]
Type: Divine artifact (minor)
Origin: Céline Vasquez (Hecate's daughter, c.1856)
Age: ~120 years
Properties (currently known):
— Opens a door at sufficiently charged crossroads
— Nature of door: UNKNOWN (investigation needed)
— Resonance: Hecate's domain
— Warmth: confirms divine origin
Properties (likely, pending investigation):
— Emergency escape at crossroads
— Access to Hecate's threshold spaces
— Other possibilities not yet determined
Recommendation: Do not use without understanding.
Study. Ask. Wait for the right moment.
Family note: This item crossed four generations
to reach you. Handle accordingly.
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✦ ✦ ✦
Theron's contribution to the planning was a detailed route: not the most direct path to New York, but the safest, which avoided three known high-monster-density areas and two locations where the Mist was thin enough to make monster detection easier for both sides.
The route went through Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Virginia, Maryland, and New Jersey before crossing into New York. It would take three to four days traveling normally, with overnight stops at locations Theron had pre-approved as either low monster activity or demigod-adjacent safe houses.
'Pre-approved,' Kael said. 'You've been thinking about this route for a while.'
'Since month two,' Theron said. 'When it became clear you were going.'
'Month two. You'd been here six weeks and you were already route planning.'
'I'm thorough,' Theron said.
'You are,' Kael agreed. He looked at the route map. 'Tennessee to Virginia is the highest risk leg?'
'The Appalachians,' Theron said. 'Old terrain. Old things in old terrain. We'll go through quickly and in daylight.'
'And you'll be with us the whole way.'
'Me and your parents and whatever celestial bronze I can get shipped down before we leave.'
He looked at Theron. 'You requested celestial bronze for me.'
'Standard field issue for a demigod of your level,' Theron said. 'I put in the request four months ago. The camp smiths take their time.'
He thought: Theron has been looking after him since month two and has never once made a production of it or expected thanks. He thought: this is what good care looks like. It looks like route maps and four-month-advance equipment requests and checking the perimeter.
'Thank you,' he said.
'You've said that.'
'I mean it again.'