Guys, I'm not even going to front. Here's the new chapter. I'm sorry I kept y'all waiting. I hope y'all like it!

I'm so comfortable. This is my first thought as I blink my eyes open and smile lazily at the ceiling. Aromas of different flowers flood my nose, but the most noticeable being rose. I take a deep breath in through my nose and sigh. Perfection. It's kind of weird that Percy's room smells like roses now that I think of it. I furrow my brows and continue down this line of thought. Also, I'm pretty sure I was at a desk when I was last conscious.

In panic, I shoot up from the bed and scan the room. It's very...pink. Where am I? Last I checked Percy's room was blue- extremely blue. Almost too blue- but that's besides the point. I don't see anyone, so I figure it's safe. I toss my legs over the side of the bed and stand to my feet. I begin to examine the room. There's the huge bed that I just got off of; it has dark pink almost red sheets with huge heart shaped pillows. Weird. Who would want that?

There's an end table on either side of the bed and a door which I presume leads out of this room. The walls are light pink and pretty bare with only a single painting of a dove. A full length mirror sits tucked in one corner with an arm chair and a floor length lamp next to it. Windows line the wall opposite the bed. I walk over to one of them and look out. I expect to see a yard with trees or maybe some cars, but I only see my reflection.

"Hmm," I tap my chin. I turn my head to glance over the room again and look into the mirror. To my surprise, I don't find myself looking back. I fully turn my body in the mirror's direction and go over toward it.

Sure enough, even with me directly in front of it, no Stiles. "Woah," I state out loud. I smack myself to make sure that this is indeed a mirror, and that I'm not hallucinating.

I hear a giggle and my eyes widen in shock. "Well, you don't have to resort to self-harm."

I turn around, but I can't see anyone. "I'm not in the room, dummy! How many times are you going to look around?" The voice, a woman, laughs once more.

I look around wildly. I'm ashamed to say it, but my voice quivers when I respond, "Who-who are you?"

"Who am I?" The woman asks. "What a wasted question. You could've asked what you're doing in this room, what year it is, what Percy and Annabeth were saying when you were spying on them, what Percy's truly feels for you, what Derek feels for you-"

My cheeks are aflame as I cut her off, "Please, just tell me who you are. I can't handle having voices in my head again." I dip my head down, thinking of the Nogitsune. While I feel that this woman isn't necessarily evil, I'm not a hundred percent sure she's benevolent either.

"Oh dear," She says. "Do you think that I'm that pesky little fly?" I take a seat in the chair and ponder. Who is this woman and how does she know about Void and my spying? "Do I look like a murderous fly to you?" She sounds offended.

I throw my hands in the air and exclaim, "I don't know what you look like. You're just a voice in my head who knows things she should know!"

I can feel that this disembodied voice just rolled her eyes. "That doesn't mean you can just call me a fly. I might smite you for this. I don't know yet-convince me not to."

I grunt. "Smite me? How are you going to smite me? You're just a voice in my head, and I'm surely not going to smite myself, so I call your bluff!" I tilt my head up a little bit-feeling accomplished. I stand up out of the chair. "You know what? I'm leaving! I don't have time to play these little games." I head toward the door and push it open- only to walk into a bathroom. I mean sure, it's a nice bathroom, but it isn't freedom.

The woman begins to laugh and cry at the same time. "Haha! You walked to the bathroom with such determination. Oh you're killing me, Stiles. A never ending source of entertainment you are!"

I've just had about enough of this woman. I rest my head against the door. "Can you at least tell me your name?" I ask. "I'm tired of referring to you as 'the woman'."

"Hmm…" I imagine her to be rubbing her hands together evilly. "Should I let Stiles know who I am? Hmm…"

I bang my fist against the door. I hate being held hostage.

She finally makes a decision. "No, I think I'll let you figure this out. It'll make for a better story." I hear a sound as if someone just clapped their hands together. "Ok, Stiles. Enough of this. Come join me."

"I can't join you if your in my head." I mutter sliding down the door.

"Mieczysław!" She exclaims.

I immediately look up. No one knows my first name and if they do, they normally can't pronounce it. But here we have it, the random lady in my head can do so perfectly.

"Go back into the bedroom and stand in front of the mirror." I don't know how to explain this, but I feel compelled to do exactly as she says. I return to the bedroom and stare into the mirror.

"Now," she says, "This is not a regular mirror. It's my looking glass-well an extension of it. I want you to think of a person who you most want to see."

A person who I most want to see? Well, that would be my mom, but she's passed. "Can the mirror show you the dead?" I inquire.

The woman sighs, "If you're thinking of viewing your mom or your werewolf's family, I wouldn't." My werewolf? Is she talking about Derek because if she is, then I have a bucket full of questions. I want to interrogate her, but I know she won't give me any straight answers. "Show me Isaac Lahey."

"Ooh, interesting first choice." She comments as the mirror begins to swirl with a plethora of colors until finally focusing on the curly haired boy I know to be Isaac. He's in his room at the loft he, Derek, and Peter share. There are a couple of jeans laid out on his bed; he must be picking out an outfit for school tomorrow.

He walks over to his closet and the image in the mirror follows him like a camera. There he has dozens of scarves on hangers organized by color and pattern. I cringe; he's so obsessed with scarves it's insane.

"Which scarf matches my Thursday jeans?"

Ok now. Just... no. I turn away from the mirror and address the voice. "How do I change this? This is torture and a weird invasion of privacy."

"Really?" She asks. "I find this to be quite relaxing. There's nothing like picking out the perfect outfit. It's nice that some people actually put thought into their outfit instead of rushing to throw on just about anything every morning."

I can feel her judging me. "I'm sorry are you the fashion police?"

"Some would say so, but I don't. I just have an eye for beautiful things."

"Ok, well help me switch people." I say while my eyes find their way back to the mirror. Isaac is currently dancing around singing about which of the two scarves he has wrapped around his neck is the best one.

"Should I go with green? It's mean and lean. Or is yellow gonna make me a gentleman-y fellow?" He sings.

"I'm uncomfortable," I say whilst frowning. He's dancing now and it's like a train wreck; I can't look away.

"I think he should go with the yellow. There's not enough gentlemen in the world these days." The woman states casually as if this is something she's sees all the time. "What about you?"

I choke. "Turn it off! I don't care which one he picks!" He's leaping, Isaac is leaping. If I weren't so scarred, I'd be able to appreciate how limber he is.

He should take up dancing or yoga. I wonder if all werewolves can do that? Wait no, of course not. Dumb Jackson could never, Derek? Please. Scott? You wish. Boyd? Don't even start-although he is a great ice-skater. I keep telling him he's definitely good enough to go to the Olympics, but he says that 'he never had a proper trainer' or any 'rigorous training'. It's sad when your friends don't believe in themselves.

"If you're done zoning out, let's shift your focus back on Isaac. I'll tell you how to change it when you tell me which scarf you think he should wear." She sounds shrill.

"Why do you care so much?" I moan. "I just want to not see Isaac like this. Do you realize how much ammunition you're giving me right now? Like I can be a jerk. I can tease him about this for probably about a week."

I grin at the thought of it. "Mmhmm," the woman says, "And how are you going to explain to him that you know he does this? Werewolves are one thing, but magic mirrors? He won't believe you."

I nod my head in agreement, "You're right. Are you ever going to answer any of the questions I've asked you? Are you going to keep me here forever?"

"That all depends on which scarf you think your friend Isaac should wear tomorrow."

I roll my eyes. "Um green because I'll be less likely to mention this to him...also it'll make him lean and mean." I smirk towards the end.

Voice laughs, "I think it's mean and then lean." With that we both fall into a spell of laughter. After we calm down, she says, "All you have to do to make the scene go away is stand on your tippy-toes and do the chicken dance."

"You've got to be kidding me." I complain.

She laughs again, "Oh, I'm kidding! Just wave your left hand over the mirror." I do so and the colors reappear swirling around until it's just the mirror with no reflection.

"Thank you for indulging me Stiles. Most of the people I'm around don't take me seriously," She says dismally.

I frown with sympathy. "Well for how long I've known you, you seem fine to me- if a little pushy."

Her voice perks up, "Do you trust me Stiles? I want to show you something."

"You haven't threatened me or my friends and family. But you have locked me in this room without a way out and forced me to pick a scarf for Isaac. So to answer your question, I don't distrust you, but asking if I trust you, is a little much." I think that was clear, but I'm not sure.

She coughs, "A perfect answer! I'd expect nothing from one of your kind." One of my kind? A human boy? "Now step through the mirror."

I don't know what this woman's plans are, but I'm not stepping through this mirror. I tell her as much.

"Oh come on Stiles. You run with wolves? You fought alpha packs, darachs, a freaking evil Japanese spirit and you're having qualms about stepping through a mirror? This has to be the least dangerous situation you've ever been in!" She begs.

I'm still unsure and I think she can tell. "Fine," she says. "I'll come get you." Suddenly the mirror begins its vibrant swirling and a brown arm reaches its way through the mirror with its palm facing out towards me. "Take my hand," the woman offers as her fingers wiggle invitingly.

I must be crazy because I clasp my hand in hers and am yanked through the mirror.

It's bright. Which is the first thing I notice. The second thing I'm aware of is that I'm outside and it's loud.

"Come one Stiles, we've got to get moving." The voice says to my left. I turn to see who it is, and I'm wowed. This woman is the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my life. I mean I thought all of my friends were good looking, but they may as well be a pile of poop next to her.

"You're beautiful," I say staring into her dark brown eyes. She smiles at me and I think I may be a little bit in love. "And nothing like a murderous fly!" I add sheepishly.

"Thank you," she laughs. She intertwines our hands as we walk through crowded streets.

"Wait," I murmur still in shock. "Are we in New York?" Which is kind of a dumb question as there's skyscrapers as tall as the eye can see. If this isn't the Big Apple then all the movies and TV shows I've watched through the years have let me down. "I've never been here before. How'd we get from California to New York?"

Beauty, as I've decided to call the woman, doesn't answer me. She just tugs me across a busy street. After a few moments of companionable silence, we come across the Empire State Building, which I recognize from Independence Day, the movie Finstock makes us watch at least once a quarter.

She leads us into the building straight to the front desk attendant. Beauty releases my hand and slams hers on the desk, "600th floor please." Part of me thinks Beauty is insane. I'm not sure how many floors this building has, but six hundred seems excessive.

The attendant who looks to be bored with life, flips through a magazine and utters, "There is no 600th floor. Keep it moving." The way he just disregarded her is puzzling. Do people normally come here asking for this specific floor?

Beauty's tone gets sterner. "I said 600th floor please." This causes the attendant to look up and he visibly pales.

"I'm sorry m'lady! Right away." He digs through his desk drawer and brings out a keycard. "Take the elevator furthest to the left and make sure no one's in there with you. Have a great day!" His smile is too wide and eyes too scared.

Beauty retrieves the card and heads over to the elevator and I follow. Once we're at elevator she scans the card above the up button and then presses it. We enter the lift and to my surprise there is a button for the 600th floor with the number glowing gold.

Beauty glances at me, "You want to do the honors or should I?" I tilt my head towards to her acknowledge she should do it. One of her well-manicured nails presses on the button and the wait begins. It's quiet for a little while before some really old elevator music starts to play to the tune of Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees.

I begin to do the generic disco dance with my finger; Beauty notices and snorts. "Hey," I complain, "Don't judge. This is a good song!"

Needless to say, we jam out to that song until the elevator ding sounds. The doors to the elevator open and I'm amazed. This isn't a random office floor like I was expecting. It's an ancient greek town with merchants and temples and a grand hall all the way down the gold road.

"What's happening?" I ask Beauty.

She grabs both of my hands and jumps up and down. "Stiles, I'm Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty, and you're on Olympus- home of the gods!"

That's a wrap guys! Tell me what you think.