The Blood and Ichor Between Us - DustShattersLikeGlass - Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

Percy walked along the beach.

His feet sunk in the sand and the waves grabbed at his ankles; the sun glittered briefly from behind the clouds.

On his left, the ocean sprawled out into the distance. It swallowed the world, reflecting the cloudy grey sky.

It called to him, enticed him to come closer, but he did not move.

On his right, the cabin, his cabin, sat on wooden planks.

The lights were on inside.

Do you know what this is, boy? A dark voice echoed from below like a vision he’d had before. Do you know what lies in wait?

“I know enough,” Percy said. “I know what’s coming.”

But the voice only laughed, deep and cruel and mocking.

A choice to be made, it said with glee. So many choices. But you will not survive to make them.

“Watch me,” Percy answered.

He took a step towards the cabin.

And he woke up.

On the edge of the bed, Poseidon’s dark murky eyes, perfectly matching the colour of the Hudson River and Percy’s own, stared down at him from the shadows.

The god sighed. He leaned forward and kissed Percy’s forehead.

Then he was gone.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Percy craned his neck up at the building.

Goode High School was a big brownstone building overlooking the East River. A bunch of BMWs and Lincoln Town cars were parked out front. Staring up at the fancy stone archway, Percy wondered how long it would take him to get kicked out.

“Just relax.” His mom didn’t sound relaxed. “It’s only an orientation tour. And remember, dear, this is Paul’s school. So try to…be careful.”

“And not destroy it with a single sneeze?”

“Please.”

Paul Blofis, his mother’s boyfriend, was standing out front, greeting future ninth graders as they came up the steps. With his salt-and-pepper hair, denim clothes, and leather jacket, he reminded Percy of a TV actor, but he was just an English teacher. He’d managed to convince Goode High School to accept Percy for ninth grade, despite his record.

Percy had tried to warn him it wasn’t a good idea, but he wouldn’t listen.

Percy looked at his mom. “You haven’t told him the truth about me, have you?

She tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel. She was dressed up for a job interview—her best blue dress and high-heeled shoes.

“I thought we should wait,” she admitted.

“So I don’t scare him away.”

She ruffled his hair. “So I don’t scare him away. I’m sure orientation will be fine, Percy. It’s only one morning.”

Percy nodded like he didn’t already smell something sour.

No need to worry her.

“I’ll make sure to let you know when I’m safe,” he said.

She frowned at him, catching the underlying message.

He had packed his Camp bag, after all.

A flash of red caught his attention.

Paul was greeting a girl with frizzy red hair. She wore a maroon T-shirt and ratty jeans decorated with marker drawings. When she turned, Percy caught a glimpse of her face.

“Oh hey,” he said. “That’s Rachel.”

His mother tilted her head. “Oh,” she said. “Yes, it is. We’ve gotten to talk quite a lot; she mentioned changing schools, but she hadn’t said which.”

“Cool,” Percy grinned. “This is going to be fun.”

His mother sighed. She kissed him on the head and shooed him out.

He waved her goodbye, and went around the side entrance, tracking sour and horse.

Two cheerleaders in purple-and-white uniforms were standing at the side entrance, waiting to ambush freshmen.

“Hi!” They smiled. One was blonde with icy blue eyes. The other was African American with darky curly hair. Both girls had their names stitched in cursive on their uniforms, but Percy didn’t try to make out the meaningless spaghetti.

“Welcome to Goode,” the blonde one said. “You are so going to love it.”

But she looked Percy up and down with an expression that said something like, Ewww, who is this loser?

How welcoming.

The other girl stepped uncomfortably close. Percy studied the stitching on her uniform and made out Kelli. She smelled like rose perfume and something like the scent of freshly washed horses.

“What’s your name, fish?”

“Percy.”

The girls exchanged looks.

“Oh, Perseus Jackson,” the blonde one said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Ominous.

Well, no time like the present; There was no one down the steps watching.

Percy smiled at the girls pleasantly.

Then he swung his sword.

Another voice came from inside the building: “Percy?”

It was Paul Blofis, somewhere down the hall.

“There you are!” Paul told him. “Thought I saw you go to the side entrance. Welcome to Goode! What’s—What’s with all the dust?”

“Thanks,” Percy said. “Ah, yeah, I accidentally tripped up the curb.”

Paul frowned. “Are you okay?” He asked with concern.

“Just fine,” Percy said cheerfully. “I was too focused on the door.”

The man let it go. He led Percy further into the building. “I know you’re probably nervous, but don’t worry. We get a lot of kids here with ADHD and dyslexia. The teachers know how to help.”

Percy bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh.

If only ADHD and dyslexia were his biggest worries.

“Thanks,” he said again anyway. “Where’s the orientation?”

“The gym. That way.”

“Awesome,” Percy nodded, “I’ll be on my way then.”

“Hey!” A voice called from down the hall.

The smell of paint and something like red rouge filled the air.

“You—!” The girl breathed. “—You!”

Paul looked between them.

“Rachel Elizabeth Dare,” Percy greeted. “Finally kick that cold?”

Her green eyes were bright. She had a sprinkle of freckles on her face that reminded Percy of constellations. Her maroon T-shirt read Harvard Art Dept.

“I see your forehead’s not the colour of a prune anymore,” she said back. “Haven’t run into any other ‘metal men’?”

He grinned. “Nah.”

Percy looked at Paul. He explained, “Rachel and I met when I visited Hoover Dam. I don’t have a phone so I gave her mom’s number. We hadn’t realised we both lived in New York until recently.”

Rachel’s eyes darted to Paul and they lit up in understanding. “I had a bad cold at the time,” she added. “And Percy had accidentally tripped down some stairs and busted his head, so we looked amazing on the tour.”

“I’m pretty clumsy,” Percy said solemnly. “Anyways, see you later, Mr. Blofis.”

Percy dramatically offered Rachel his arm. She snickered and accepted.

They swept down the hall with Paul’s chuckling following them.

The moment they turned the corner, Rachel’s smile dropped. Her eyes darted around.

“There’s something wrong with the cheerleaders,” she told Percy.

“Already taken care of.”

She arched her brow. “Taken care of?” She asked. “You mean…they were actually…”

“Ye-p,” he popped the ‘p.’ “You know what they were?”

Rachel pursed her lips in thought. Her eyes darted back and forth, like she was rapidly flipping through a catalog.

“Empousa?” She tried. “Servants of…the Goddess of the Mist?”

“Got it in one,” Percy grinned. “Η μητέρα μου said you were a quick study.”

“Your mother’s a god-send—gods-send—” Rachel muttered. She sighed. “All this time I thought I was just crazy!”

They pushed into the chaos that was the gym.

“There’s a reason she has that group,” he told her over the noise. “So no one has to feel like she did as a kid.”

They listened to the garbled announcements.

Not a single person blinked at the missing cheerleaders, like they had never existed in the first place.

“All right, guys and girls!” Paul exclaimed once the announcements were over and they separated into their groups. “I’m Mr. Blofis, an English teacher here at Goode. I’ll be your tour-guide.”

“Your mother talked a lot about herself,” Rachel murmured. “About the gods, the myths, the stories…”

They stood at the back of the group.

“But she rarely talked about you. Who are you, Percy Jackson?”

“Who are you?” Percy asked back.

She blinked, startled.

“I’m…” She searched for the words. “I’m a mortal, but you’re not…You’re…too bright for that.”

Percy paused.

“I’m a half-blood,” he said. “Half-human—”

“Half-god,” Rachel finished. Her green eyes flickered.

“Any questions?” Paul asked the groups. “Miss. Dare, Mr. Jackson, is everything okay?”

“Just fine,” Percy covered.

“Just fine,” Rachel echoed.

They continued with the tour.

Rachel spent the time alternating between glancing around the halls and staring at Percy.

Percy smiled at her everytime she caught his eye. She would squint in return, like his smile was blinding.

“You’re so weird,” she finally said as the tour approached its end and they were allowed to leave. “I mean it, Percy Jackson, there’s something odd about you. And I mean more than just the half-mortal, half-god thing…”

Paul attempted to get closer, but he was stopped by several parents with questions. Percy waved goodbye in amusem*nt.

“How about a game?” Percy asked. He bounced down the front steps of the school. He turned on the last step and grinned up at her. “Try and guess who my godly parent is. That seems like a challenge you’d like.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up.

“If I get it right?” She asked.

Percy offered, “I’ll take you to Camp Half-Blood.”

“Deal!”

She held out her hand.

Percy shook it.

“See you later, Dare.”

She stuck her chin up, a fire in her eyes. “That’s a promise, Jackson.”

Percy chuckled as he made his way down the street.

It was about a two day’s walk to Camp, he thought, and tightened his backpack straps. Or a short boat ride.

At the thought, he turned back towards the East River.

“Hello East,” Percy murmured as he approached the pier. “How are you?”

His boat, Hurricane, bobbed gently in the river. The smell of apples and newspaper overtook the smell of musty water. It spun around him in greeting.

Percy secured his things and got to work directing the boat from the pier and into open water. Just before they got really moving, he made sure to give offers on the altar he’d set up in the hull.

It would only be a few hours; he’d follow the East River north and then turn east.

Percy took his place on the deck. He faced the wind as Hurricane picked up speed and closed his eyes to it, enjoying the sun, the breeze, and the smell of the sea.

“It’s not nice to stare,” he said.

“As if you don’t stare all the time,” Dionysus scoffed, stretched out in the beach chair Percy had on deck.

Percy shrugged.

“You’re out of camp,” Percy pointed out. “Not an emergency meeting, I hope.”

“No.” The god blocked out the sun with his hand, squinting up at the rays and muttering about annoying siblings. “Just a terrible amount of normal meetings.”

They were quiet. Percy finally turned his head to look at the god.

He arched an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t come here just to tell me that.”

“No,” Dionysus agreed. “It’s never too late to join your father in Atlantis, you know.”

Percy smirked. “Aw,” he said, “is someone worried?”

“Perseus.”

Percy’s smile fell.

Dionysus’ eyes were dark and serious. There was no cruel amusem*nt or hidden delight, just plain seriousness.

“Something is coming,” Dionysus said, “the first battle to start this war, and you are at the epicenter of it.”

“I cannot run from this,” Percy answered. “Not without abandoning the family.”

“When has this family ever done anything for you?”

Percy laid his own stern look at the god. “You have all done plenty for me,” he pointed out. “You can try to deny it all you want, Dionysus, but somewhere along the way I kicked past your walls. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Dionysus didn’t answer, a brooding angry expression on his face that made him look weirdly like Ares.

“Try not to die,” he finally said, just as he did last winter.

Percy looked towards the mast, fingers twitching to set the sails. “Because you’d rather not deal with my angry father?”

“Because I’d rather not have to help your father get your soul from uncle.”

The god was gone before he could say anything.

Percy stared at the empty space.

“I’ll try,” he said softly. “Promise…”

And the air twirled with grapes and leopards.

After a few more hours, Percy waved at the young guardian dragon, Peleus, who circled near the beach on his approach.

The last time he’d been here, the dragon had been six feet long. Now he was at least twice that, and as thick around as the pine tree on the hill he guarded.

Peleus huffed in greeting, circling once more before heading back to his station.

As he tied his boat to the pier Beckendorf and the Hephaestus cabin had built him, he frowned.

Something felt…wrong. There was a tension in the air, as if the hill itself were holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

The last time that had happened, Thalia’s tree had been dying. There had been an intruder in camp.

He made his way to camp sound, greeting people and satyrs as he passed.

The summer session was already in full swing. Most of the campers had arrived last Friday. The satyrs were playing their pipes in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Campers were having flying horse-back lessons, swooping over the woods on their pegasi. Smoke rose from the forges, and hammers rang as kids made their own weapons for Arts and Crafts. The Athena and Demeter teams looked to be having a chariot race around the track, and over at the canoe lake some kids in a Greek trireme were fighting a large orange sea serpent.

Percy’s finger twitched, and the boat stopped its sharp shaking for a moment after one of the kids had stood up, allowing the group to steady themselves.

“Thanks, Percy!” One’s voice echoed up the valley. “Welcome back!”

He waved in return.

In the Big House’s driveway, Connor and Travis Stoll were hot-wiring the camp’s SUV. From the porch, three leopard kittens watched them intently.

Percy’s eyes trailed to the opposite side of the driveway, where the other kittens had spread out.

They were surrounding the SUV, and stalking towards the still unaware boys. Each wore a different coloured ribbon which dictated their name in Greek.

They’d grown quite fast. Last time, they’d still been the size of regular kittens, just as they had been when Percy had first seen them sprout out of the ground. Now, they were each the size of a medium-sized dog and growing faster by the day.

Dionysus could deny it all he wanted, Percy knew he adored them.

Just as he went to approach the Big House, the smell of something wrong filled his nose.

Percy followed the smell to the arena, where Mrs. O’Leary was staring incessantly up at a man Percy had never seen before.

He was in his fifties, with short grey hair and a clipped grey beard. He was in good shape for an older guy. He wore black mountain climbing pants and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp T-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before Percy would make it out, he shifted his armour straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.

He had grey eyes, but he also looked like nothing.

Percy whistled quietly.

Mrs. O’Leary abruptly changed course. She bounded up to Percy, dancing excitedly around him, her tail wagging. Before anyone could say anything, she plopped down in front of him, bringing her head closer to him.

“Hey there Mrs. O’Leary,” Percy greeted. He reached up and gave her ear a few scratches. “How are you?”

She angled her head to look at him sideways, then nudged his knees with her nose, nearly knocking him over.

“I’m glad,” Percy laughed.

“She’s a friendly one, isn’t she?” The man asked. “What did you call her, ‘Mrs. O’Leary’?”

“She was gifted to me by Persephone,” Percy said. “I thought it fit her.”

The man wore a stunned expression. “It does. I’m Quintus, by the way, the new sword instructor. Helping out Chiron while Mr. D is away.”

“Yes,” Percy murmured. “He said he had business to take care of, a lot of meetings, but he didn’t specify.”

Mrs. O’Leary whined.

“Busy times. Even Dionysus must help out. He’s gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they’re on the right side. I probably shouldn’t say more than that.”

Hm, Percy thought. “Good luck to him, then,” he said.

Off to the left, there was a loud BUMP. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs. O’Leary growled lowly in their direction.

They smelled like scorpions.

“Whoa!” Quintus said. “It’s all right. Those aren’t for you.”

Percy clicked his tongue, and she stopped.

Quintus’ face rippled in surprise as she fell silent.

Once he could make out the words, Percy squinted at the shaking boxes.

Triple G Ranch

Fragile

This End Up

Along the bottom, in smaller letters: Open with Care. Triple G Ranch Is Not Responsible For Property Damage, Maiming, Or Excruciatingly Painful Deaths.

“What’s in the boxes?” Percy asked.

“A little surprise,” Quintus said. “Training activity for tomorrow night. You’ll love it.”

Percy hummed. He watched Quintus closely, eyes tracking his every movement.

Quintus twitched.

Chiron clip-clopped into the arena. “Percy, there you are!”

He must’ve just come from teaching archery. He had a quiver and blow slung over his #1 Centaur T-shirt the younger kids had made him a year ago. He’d trimmed his curly brown hair and beard for the summer, and his lower half was flecked with mud and grass.

“I see you’ve met our new instructor.” Chiron’s tone was light, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. “Quintus, do you mind if I borrow Percy?”

“Not at all, Master Chiron.”

“No need to call me ‘Master,’” Chiron said, though he sounded sort of pleased. “Come, Percy. We have much to discuss.”

Percy leaned down to kiss Mrs. O’Leary’s forehead.

“Keep an eye on him,” he murmured.

Mrs. O’Leary chuffed.

Percy followed after Chiron.

“Quintus seems…”

“Mysterious?” Chiron suggested. “Hard to read?”

“Wrong,” Percy said.

Chiron was quiet. Finally, he said, “He is a very qualified half-blood. Excellent swordsman. I just wish I understood…”

Whatever he was going to say, he apparently changed his mind. “First things first, Percy. Do you have something to report?”

“Yeah.” Percy told him about the empousai.

“And they gave you no trouble?” Chiron asked with worry.

Percy shrugged. “I didn’t exactly give them a chance to,” he answered. “Should I have?”

Chiron’s answer dripped with amusem*nt, “No. Perhaps for the best. The more powerful ones can cause all sorts of havoc. Their powers of deception…almost any male hero would’ve fallen under their spell, even as early as you met them.”

Percy shrugged again. “Didn’t feel like it,” he announced.

Chiron chuckled.

“Come,” he said. His smile disappeared. “There are other matters to take care of. We should get to the woods. Grover will want you there.”

“Where?”

“At his formal hearing,” Chiron said grimly. “The Council of Cloven Elders is meeting now to decide his fate.”

Percy didn’t even try to argue against getting a ride.

Chiron galloped past the cabins and plunged into the woods. Nymphs peeked out of the trees to watch them pass. Large shapes rustled in the shadows—monsters that were stocked in there as a challenge to the campers.

Chiron took him a way he didn’t recognise, through a tunnel of old willow trees, past a little waterfall, and into a glade blanketed with wildflowers.

It smelled strongly of satyrs here, but the wild smell that Percy had gotten used to from Grover was faint and decaying.

A bunch of satyrs were sitting in a circle in the grass. Grover stood in the middle, facing three really old, really fat satyrs who sat on topiary thrones shaped out of row bushes. Percy sniffed at them.

This must be the Council of Cloven Elders.

Grover seemed to be telling them a story. He twisted the bottom of his T-shirt, shifting nervously on his goat hooves.

Percy focused as much confidence as he could through their link, and it must’ve worked, because Grover stopped shifting around. He stood taller.

A wave of warmth and gratitude hit Percy.

Standing off to one side of the circle were Annabeth, another girl Percy had only ever seen in flashes, and Clarisse. Chiron dropped Percy next to them.

Clarisse’s hair was tied back with a camouflage bandanna. She looked buffer, like she’d been working out. The ears Percy had only gotten a glimpse of two years ago twitched as he moved closer. A tail swung with agitation behind her. She glared at him and muttered, “Punk,” which told Percy she wasn’t in a terrible mood.

Annabeth had her arm around the other girl, who looked like she’d been crying. She was small—petite—with wispy hair the colour of amber and a pretty, elfish face. A laurel wreath of pine needles and some type of small blue fleshy cones lay in her hair. She wore a green chiton and laced sandals, and she was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

“It’s going terribly,” she sniffled.

She smelled fresh and crisp, like soil and pine leaves and wildflowers. A dryad.

“No, no,” Annabeth patted her shoulders. “He’ll be fine, Juniper.”

“You must be Grover’s girlfriend,” Percy greeted quietly. “He’s sent me lots about you.”

For a second, that seemed to raise her spirits, but then one of the council members interrupted Grover with a shout. “Master Underwood!”

The old satyr asked, “Do you seriously expect us to believe this?”

“It’s the truth,” Grover said. “I would swear it, Silenus.”

The council member, Silenus, turned to his colleagues and muttered something. Chiron cantered up to the front and stood next to them as the honorary member of the council.

If anything, the centaur standing next to the council made them look even less impressive. They reminded Percy of the goats in a petting zoo—huge bellies, sleepy expressions, and glazed eyes that couldn’t see past the next handful of grass.

Silenus tugged his yellow polo shirt over his belly and adjusted himself on his rosebush throne. “Master Underwood, for six months—six months—we have been hearing these scandalous claims that you heard the wild god Pan speak.”

“But I did!”

“Impudence!” said the elder on the left.

“Now, Maron,” Chiron said. “Patience.”

“Patience, indeed!” Maron said. “I’ve had it up to my horns with this nonsense. As if the wild god would speak to…to him.”

Percy growled. The sound was low and rumbling, incredibly reminiscent of his father if anyone bothered to tell him that.

The council’s heads snapped up in alarm, while some of the satyrs and dryads within the circle scattered in fright. Even Chiron’s eyes fluttered at the sound, like he was letting it wash over him and forcing himself to not move.

Next to him, Annabeth tensed.

“Hey,” Clarisse hissed, though her eyes flared in interest. “Not the time, Jackson.”

In contrast, Juniper was looking at him with awe, and Grover’s shoulders had sunk back down from where they had started to tense up.

Percy cleared his throat. “Apologies,” he murmured.

“F-for six months.” Silenus cleared his throat. He turned back to Grover, notably paler. Maron didn’t look ready to speak again. “We have indulged you, Master Underwood. We let you travel. We allowed you to keep your searcher’s license. We waited for you to bring back proof of your—ahem—claim. And what have you found in six months of travel?”

“I just need more time,” Grover pleaded. “This is not something that can be rushed.”

“Nothing!” The elder in the middle chimed in. He glared at Percy. “You have found nothing.”

“But, Leneus—”

Silenus raised his hand. Chiron leaned in and said something to the satyrs. The satyrs didn’t look happy. They muttered and argued among themselves, but Chiron said something else, and Silenus sighed. He nodded reluctantly.

“Master Underwood,” Silenus announced, “we will give you one more chance.”

Grover brightened. “Thank you!”

“One more week.”

“What? But, sir! That’s impossible!”

“One more week, Master Underwood. And then, if you cannot prove your claims, it will be time for you to pursue another career. Something to suit your dramatic talents. Puppet theatre, perhaps. Or tap dancing.”

“But, sir, I—I can’t lose my searcher’s license. My whole life—”

“This meeting of the council is adjourned,” Silenus said. “And now let us enjoy our noonday meal!”

The old satyr clapped his hands, and a bunch of nymphs melted out of the trees with platters of vegetables, fruits, tin cans, and other goat delicacies. What was left of the circle broke and charged the food. Grover walked dejectedly toward them.

Percy hoped the food rotted before they could enjoy it.

“Hey, Percy,” he said. “Thank you for trying to help.”

“Those old goats!” Juniper said. “Oh, Grover, they don’t know how hard you’ve tried!”

“There is another option,” Clarisse said darkly.

“I’m up for it,” Percy agreed. He tilted his head when Silenus made eye-contact.

The old goat choked on a blueberry.

The others paused.

“Punk.” There was a thick layer of laughter in Clarisse’s voice; a win for the books. “I don’t mean killing them.”

“Oh,” Percy said. “Oh yes, of course not…”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Nico’s rubbing off on you.”

Despite his mood, Grover’s lips twitched. He turned to address Clarisse. “I—I’ll have to think about it. But we don’t even know where to look.”

“What do you mean?” Percy asked.

In the distance, a conch horn sounded.

Annabeth pursed her lips. “I’ll fill you in later, Percy. We’d better get back to our cabins. Inspection is starting.”

Percy sighed. He nudged Grover on the shoulder as he went, and left the satyr with his girlfriend.

The common area was awash with campers rushing to and from as they tried to get things in order. Silena had stepped out of the Aphrodite cabin just as Percy got to the central hearth, checking items off the inspection scroll.

A few of the Hermes’ kids cursed when they saw her. She was always one of the toughest inspectors, and rarely could she be bribed.

Percy pushed open the door and paused.

There was Tyson, sweeping the floor.

“Tyson!” Percy exclaimed.

“Percy!” Tyson bellowed. He dropped his broom and ran at him.

“Hey!” Percy laughed as he was picked up. “Watch the ribs! The ribs!”

Though he didn’t really need to worry; Tyson was always incredibly gentle, at least with Percy.

Tyson put him down, grinning like crazy, his single calf-brown eye full of excitement.

“You are okay?” He asked. “Not eaten by monsters?”

“Not even a little bit.” Percy spun in a circle to show him that he still had all his limbs. Tyson clapped happily.

“Yay!” He said. “Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Annabeth and Clarisse and make things go BOOM!”

“Of course, of course!” Percy grinned. “But first, inspections.”

He snapped his finger, focusing on getting the cabin to look as it had when he’d first arrived, only with a few changes: two beds, and a little dresser and desk and chair for each of them.

Above them, unaffected by the change, a herd of miniature bronze hippocampi hung on wires from the ceiling, so it looked like they were swimming through air. On the windowsills, there were water-filled vases with sea anemones and strange glowing plants from the bottom of the ocean. Tyson bowed when Percy complimented it all.

Just as the effect took someone knocked on the door.

It swung open, and Silena stood in the doorway with her inspection scroll. She stepped into the cabin, did a quick twirl, then raised her eyebrows at Percy. “Well, I had my doubts. But you clean up nicely, Percy. I’ll remember that.”

She winked at him and left the room.

“Phew,” Percy sighed, and the illusion dropped. “That’s always a bit tough to keep up.”

“Lots of things to hide,” Tyson agreed. “But, Percy, why do you only hide them from her?”

Percy smiled at his brother. “Think of it like a harmless prank,” Percy said. “Come on. You have to tell me all about the forges and what you’ve worked on.”

“Yes!” Tyson exclaimed. “And your shield!”

Percy’s eyes lit up.

“You fixed it!”

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Tyson and Percy spent the day around camp, talking with the other campers. Percy got to practice sword fighting with Quintus for a few hours, and they were eventually chased out of the arena by a feral Will who wanted them to rest. Glenn seemed to materialize to take Percy’s place against the sword master, a weighted, eerie look on his face. Percy introduced Tyson to Mrs. O’Leary afterwards and they quickly became friends.

After dinner, Percy made sure to tell Tyson about his new siblings; how Thalia and Bianca had followed the Hunters; how Nico was currently spending time with Persephone at her cottage. He showed him a few photos his mom had taken of them and printed out for them to keep. Tyson happily helped him pin them to the large cork board that had appeared on the wall in the living room.

That night, Percy had trouble falling asleep. He laid in bed listening to the waves on the beach, the gurgle of the fountain and pool in the hallway.

It was around midnight when a glow lit up under his bedroom door.

The air twinged with freshly upturned wet dirt and pomegranate seeds.

Percy threw his covers aside and flung his bedroom door open. The saltwater fountain down the hall was glowing. Steam rose from the hot salt water. Rainbow colours shimmered through it, though there was no light in the room except for the moon outside. Then a pleasant female voice spoke from the steam: Please deposit one drachma.

Percy scooped up a drachma from the bottom of the fountain and tossed it through the mist. The coin vanished.

“O, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow,” Percy whispered. “Please show me what you will.”

The mist shimmered. Percy saw the dark shore of a river. Wisps of fog drifted across black water. The beach was strewn with jagged volcanic rock. A young boy squatted at the riverbank, tending a campfire. The flames burned an unnatural blue colour.

“Nico,” Percy called, but his brother could not hear him.

Whoever had sent this, they wanted him to see something, but why? And where was Nico? This could not be Persephone’s cottage…

Nico’s head snapped up. He spoke with someone in low tones.

Across the fire, something shimmered.

A man—a wisp of blue smoke, a shadow.

A ghost.

“A soul for a soul.”

Percy tensed.

But the ghost didn’t want Nico’s.

Someone who had cheated death.

Percy followed the conversation the best he could, but pieces were missing.

“I will help you,” the ghost promised. “Have I not saved you many times? Did I not lead you through the maze and teach you to use your powers?”

Percy didn’t like the ghost’s tone. It was saccharine—enticing.

Get away from him! Percy shrieked in his head.

The ghost jerked.

It looked up, straight at—

The mist scattered, leaving Percy in the dark.

Hours later, he was woken by shouting.

“An Aethiopian drakon,” Lee reported grimly. “Twenty arrows in its hide, and we just made it mad. The thing’s thirty feet long and bright green. Its eyes—”

He shuddered.

“You did well,” Percy assured him. “You said it was still around?”

“Circling,” Lee reported. “It’ll probably be back—”

The sound of caw-caw-caw echoed from the trees.

Kayla swooped down, her raven feathers puffed up behind her.

“Like right now,” Lee finished.

Percy nodded. “All right,” he said, “listen up, Apollo cabin. Focus all arrows on the drakon. Michael, is Beckendorf up?”

Michael grinned. “Up and ready, Στρατηγός.”

Percy frowned sternly at him, which sent the other Apollo kids snickering.

Percy rolled his eyes.

“Good,” he said. “Beckendorf and his cabin will be launching spears at the drakon via the ballistas. I’ve already told the satyrs to make it rain, and I’m going to use that as more spears. Don’t try to get close, make sure to watch the barrier in case it cracks, and stay in your pairs. Nobody goes off alone—that includes you, Glenn!”

Glenn saluted with a lazy grin that said he would absolutely not be listening. The rest of the Apollo cabin saluted and took off cackling.

The absolute menaces.

Percy made his way to Beckendorf, who had set up on the hill.

“Beckendorf! How’s it looking?”

Beckendorf smiled at Percy cheerfully. “All set up here, Στρατηγός. It’s circling back now and we’ll be able to get a clear shot.”

“I’m going to make all of you run laps for sword practice,” Percy informed him petulantly.

Beckendorf ruffled his hair in reply.

A sigh left the Child of the Sea. He turned to face camp sound.

The sound of music echoed up the hill. A gentle sprinkle made its way down. Something in the clouds roared.

Beckendorf’s smile dropped. He and his brother Isaac, a red-headed green-eyed boy with a penchant for fire, locked the bolt into place.

There was a swoosh.

The first volley of arrows, tipped in fire, lit up the sky.

Lee had not been lying. The drakon was massively long, poisonously green.

Percy raised his hand as it swooped lower, as close to the barrier as it dared—

“Fire!” He shouted.

And brought his hand down.

At breakfast, the tables broke into cheers as the Apollo and Hephaestus cabins made their way to their tables.

Percy slipped in from the back and took his seat next to Tyson, explaining quietly what had happened. Each cabin had decided to split the spoils, though Percy had tried to back out.

They’d refused to let him; there was now a stack of gleaming green scales in his cabin for Tyson to use in his crafting.

“A fine play,” Quintus commended them. “But stay alert. It will happen again. More and more frequently.”

“Couldn’t have done it without Στρατηγός,” Lee announced.

Percy chucked his fork at the boy, eliciting a yelp when he tried to duck and still somehow ended up getting hit.

Snickers echoed through the pavilion.

“Focus,” Chiron chided.

Everyone knew the rumours. Luke and his army of monsters were planning an invasion of the camp, despite what Luke had said in the west. But no one knew how or when. It didn’t help that attendance was down slightly. Three years before, there had been more than a hundred campers. Since then, that number had ebbed and flowed.

After the quest for the Fleece, the number had weirdly come up again.

But they were still down to around ninety.

“This is a good reason for new war games,” Quintus continued, a glint in his eyes. “We’ll see how you all do with that tonight.”

“Yes…” Chiron said. “Well, enough announcements. Let us bless this meal and eat.” He raised his goblet. “To the gods!”

They raised their goblets and repeated the blessing.

Tyson and Percy brought their plates to the bronze brazier. Percy wished the gods luck on their visits, and pushed hope that the majority of others would not join the Titans.

The air swirled with several smells, each thrumming strong and full of life. They echoed back that hope.

Once everyone was eating, Chiron and Grover came over. Grover was bleary-eyed. His shirt was inside out. He slid his plate onto the table and slumped next to Percy.

Tyson shifted uncomfortably. “I will go…um…polish my fish ponies.”

He lumbered off, leaving his breakfast half eaten.

Chiron tried for a smile. He probably wanted to look reassuring, but Percy had to bite his tongue from asking the centaur to back up a little.

“Well, Percy, how did you sleep?”

Percy arched his brow.

“I brought Grover over,” Chiron continued, “because I thought you two might want to, ah, discuss matters. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some Iris-messages to send. I’ll see you later in the day.” He gave Grover a meaningful look, then trotted out of the pavilion.

“I hope you know that this isn’t helping me not feel anxious,” Percy informed his satyr friend.

Grover chewed his eggs. He was obviously distracted, because he bit off the tines of his fork and ate those, too. “He wants you to convince me,” he mumbled. “And I know you will, because you’re Percy.”

Somebody slid across from them on the bench: Annabeth.

“I’ll tell you what it’s about,” she said. “The Labyrinth.”

Percy hummed in curiosity.

None of the other campers batted an eye, well used to the way Percy bull dozed through the rules.

Quintus looked over and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything.

“I assume that’s what Clarisse was investigating last year,” he said. “Why?”

To Percy’s utmost surprise, and to possibly everyone’s in the pavilion, Clarisse dropped down on Percy’s other side.

“What’re you looking at,” Clarisse snapped.

Everyone continued with their breakfast.

“Clarisse.”

“Percy.”

Clarisse looked at Annabeth and frowned. “You haven’t been keeping him informed, have you.”

Annabeth didn’t answer.

Clarisse cursed lowly at her. She turned to Percy, “Listen close, punk. Last year, Chiron sent me on a mission because I found Chris Rodriguez.”

Percy sat up. He snapped his fingers. A film of water circled them. They could still see out at the other tables, but it was warped from the water.

There were a few yelps as the Stoll brothers got drenched.

“This will shield us from eavesdroppers,” Percy murmured. “Benthesikyme taught me a few weeks ago.”

Thank the gods for his wonderful half-sisters.

Clarisse huffed. She looked slightly impressed.

“Chris Rodriguez,” Percy said. “One of the unclaimed from the Hermes cabin. I remember seeing him on the Princess Andromeda. How did you find him?”

“Last summer,” Clarisse started, “he appeared in Phoenix, Arizona, near my mom’s house. And when I say appeared…”

“As if out of nowhere?”

“Just came wandering out of the desert, in a hundred and twenty degrees, in full Greek armour, babbling about string.”

“String,” Percy repeated.

“He’d been driven completely insane. I brought him to my mom’s so the mortals wouldn’t throw him in the pen. She tried to nurse him back to health; Chiron came out and interviewed him, but it wasn’t much good. Only thing we could make out: Luke’s men have been exploring the Labyrinth.”

Percy breathed in sharply.

He started, “Before we get into that. Chris. Did you try getting him to Mr. D?”

“Mr. D left before we could speak with him,” Clarisse said grimly. Her face was twisted. “It’ll have to wait until he returns…”

“Keep me updated on that.” Percy nodded. “Do we know why they were exploring the Labyrinth?”

“We weren’t sure,” Annabeth said. “That’s why Clarisse went on a scouting expedition. Chiron kept things hushed up because he didn’t want anyone panicking. He got me involved because…well, the Labyrinth has always been one of my favourite subjects. The architecture involved—” Her expression turned a little dreamy. “The builder, Daedalus, was a genius. But the point is, the Labyrinth has entrances everywhere. If Luke could figure out how to navigate it, he could move his army around with incredible speed.”

“And to navigate the maze, he’d, what, need the string? Ariadne’s string? Why doesn’t she have it?”

“To navigate the horrible traps, too,” Grover muttered. “Dead ends. Illusions. Psychotic goat-killing monsters.”

Percy patted him on the back.

“In the old days, Ariadne’s string guided Theseus out of the maze. It was a navigation instrument of some kind, invented by Daedalus. And Chris was mumbling about string. It’s possible Daedalus made a copy of it, or even a back-up.”

“So Luke’s trying to find said string,” Percy said. “Are there any entrances to the Labyrinth near camp? In camp?”

Annabeth shook her head. “That’s what we thought, but nothing’s come up. The closest entrances Clarisse found were in Manhattan, which wouldn’t be of much help. She explored a little way into the tunnels, but…it was very dangerous. She had some close calls. I researched everything I could find about Daedalus, but it didn’t help much. I don’t understand exactly what Luke’s planning, but I do know this: the Labyrinth might be the key to Grover’s problem.”

Percy blinked. “You think Pan is underground?”

“It would explain why he’s been impossible to find.”

Grover shuddered. “Satyrs hate going underground. No searchers would ever try going in that place. No flowers. No sunshine. No coffee shops!”

“But,” Annabeth said, “the Labyrinth can lead you almost anywhere. It reads your thoughts. It was designed to fool you, to trick you and kill you; but if you can make the Labyrinth work for you—”

“It could lead you to the Wild God,” Percy said. He looked at Grover. “This might be why his scent is everywhere, because the Labyrinth is everywhere.”

“I can’t do it.” Grover hugged his stomach. “Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up.”

“This might be your last chance, goat-boy,” Clarisse said. “The council is serious. One week or you learn to tap dance.”

Grover put his head down.

Clarisse snorted. She waved away the watery film behind them and went back to her table.

Annabeth also stood. She looked at Percy. “Convince him, will you?”

She returned to her own table.

Percy poked Grover on the side of his head.

“I can’t do it, Percy. My searcher’s license. Pan. I’m going to lose it all. I’ll have to start a puppet theatre.”

“Don’t say that,” Percy scolded. “You have to have hope, Grover. You can’t give up now. You’re not going to give up now.”

He looked at Percy teary-eyed. “Percy, you’re my best friend. You’ve seen me underground. In the Underworld, in that Cyclops’s cave. Do you really think I could…”

His voice faltered.

“Yes,” Percy said. “Yes, I think you can.”

Grover’s emotions turned into a hurricane down the link.

“I have to leave,” Grover said miserably. “Juniper’s waiting for me. It’s a good thing she finds cowards attractive.”

Percy watched him go. After he’d disappeared, he looked over at Quintus. He nodded gravely, like they were sharing some dark secret.

Perhaps they were.

In the afternoon, Percy went down to the pegasus stable to visit Blackjack. They had a short conversation; Blackjack informed him of the whispers he’d heard.

It’s not looking good, boss. The pegasus said. It’s not just here, the other…

“You know you can’t tell me anything specific,” Percy murmured. “But thank you.”

He wished Blackjack well, and walked away feeling like he wasn’t going to see the pegasus for a long time.

That night after dinner, Quintus had the campers suit up in combat armour like they were getting ready for capture the flag, but the mood among the campers was a lot more serious. Sometime during the day the crates in the arena had disappeared, and Percy had a feeling whatever was in them had been emptied into the woods.

“Right,” Quintus said, standing on the head dining table. “Gather ‘round.”

He was dressed in black leather and bronze. Mrs. O’Leary stalked around the table. She happily barked at Percy when she saw him, but didn’t leave her post.

“You will be in teams of two,” Quintus announced. “Which have already been chosen!”

The scrambling campers groaned.

“Your goal is simple: collect the gold laurels without dying. The wreath is wrapped in a silk package, tied to the back of one of the monsters. There are six monsters. Each has a silk package. Only one holds the laurels. You must find the wreath before the other teams. And, of course…you will have to slay the monster to get it, and stay alive.”

The crowd started murmuring excitedly.

“I will now announce your partners,” Quintus said. “There will be no trading. No switching. No complaining.”

Quintus produced a big scroll and started reading off names.

“Percy Jackson with Annabeth Chase.”

Percy nodded. He stepped to the girl’s side.

“Where’s your helmet?” She asked.

“Don’t like it,” he shrugged. “It slows me down.”

Grover was paired with Tyson, which had the two looking pleadingly at Percy.

He smiled at them both pleasantly.

Tyson sneezed. Grover started chewing nervously on his wooden club.

“They’ll be fine,” Annabeth said. “Come on. Let’s worry about how we’re going to stay alive.”

It was still light when they got into the woods, but the shadows from the trees made it feel like midnight. It was cold, too, even in summer, though Percy’s magic sweater kept him warm. Annabeth and him found tracks immediately—scuttling marks made by something with a lot of legs. They began to follow the trail.

“Just so you know,” Percy said quietly, “it smells like scorpions.”

Annabeth jerked. “Manticores?” She asked, her voice wavering.

“No,” he assured. “Just scorpions. Large ones, if the size of the crates were anything to go by.”

Annabeth breathed out. “Great,” she said.

“Fun,” Percy agreed.

They crouched behind a boulder as the Stoll brothers stumbled by. Their dad might be the God of Thieves, but they were about as stealthy as water buffalos.

Percy would get on to them for it later.

Once the Stolls had passed, they forged deeper into the west woods where the monsters were wilder. They were standing on a ledge overlooking a marshy pond when Annabeth tensed. “This is where we stopped looking.”

“For the Labyrinth?”

She nodded, her lips pursed together.

Percy glanced around, then tensed.

A branch snapped in the woods. Dry leaves rustled. Something large was moving in the trees, just beyond the ridge.

“That’s not the Stoll brothers,” Annabeth whispered.

Together they drew their swords and kept moving.

They got to Zeus’s Fist. The natural landmark where campers often rendezvoused on hunting expeditions was now bare of anyone. The smell of scorpions had only grown stronger.

“Over there,” Annabeth whispered.

“No,” Percy whispered. “Behind us.”

It was weird. Scuttling noises seemed to be coming from several different directions. They were circling the boulders, their swords drawn, when the air behind him filled with pine.

Someone said, “Hi.”

They whirled around, and Juniper yelped.

Percy pointed his blade towards the ground.

“Put those down,” she protested. “Dryads don’t like sharp blades, okay?”

“Juniper,” Annabeth exhaled. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

Percy frowned, “Is your tree nearby?”

She nodded and pointed toward the edge of the clearing.

“Are you guys busy?” She asked.

“Well,” Percy said, “not really. What’s wrong?”

Annabeth nodded.

Juniper sniffled. She wiped her silky sleeve under her eyes. “It’s Grover. He seems so distraught. All year he’s been out looking for Pan. And every time he comes back, it’s worse. I thought maybe, at first, he was seeing another tree.”

“No,” Annabeth said, as Juniper started crying. “I’m sure it’s not that.”

“It’s definitely not that,” Percy agreed.

“He had a crush on a blueberry bush once,” Juniper said miserably.

“Juniper,” Annabeth said, “Grover would never even look at another tree. He’s just stressed out about his searcher’s license.”

“He can’t go underground!” She protested. “You can’t let him.”

Annabeth looked uncomfortable. “It might be the only way to help him; if we just knew where to start.”

“Ah.” Juniper wiped a green tear off her cheek. “About that…”

The smell of scorpions crescendoed.

Juniper yelled, “Hide!”

She went poof into green mist.

Percy whirled around the same time Annabeth did. Coming out of the woods was a glistening amber insect, ten feet long, with jagged pincers, an armoured tail, and a stinger as long as Percy’s sword. A scorpion. Tied to its back was a red silk package.

“One of us gets behind it,” Annabeth said, as the thing clattered towards them. “Cuts off its tail while the other distracts it in front.”

“I’ll take point,” Percy said. “You’ve got the invisibility hat.”

She nodded.

It should’ve been fine. But then two other scorpions appeared from the woods.

“Three?” Annabeth said. “That’s not possible! The whole woods, and half the monsters come at us?”

“Either my terrible luck,” Percy said grimly, “or something’s doing it on purpose.”

The scorpions scurried toward them, whipping their barbed tails like they’d come there just to kill them. Annabeth and Percy put their backs against the nearest boulder.

Percy cracked open his water bottle.

“No time to climb,” Annabeth cursed.

They were close enough that Percy could see their hideous mouths foaming for a nice demigod snack.

“Look out!” Annabeth parried away a stinger with the flat of her blade. Percy stabbed with Riptide, but the scorpion backed out of range.

His water struck out; it hit one scorpion in the mouth, attempting to choke it like Percy had with the Nemean Lion.

All it did was make it mad.

Percy cursed lowly. He let the water drop.

They clambered sideways along the boulder, but the scorpions followed. Percy slashed at another, but he had to dance back to avoid getting hit. The offensive was too dangerous; they had to keep defending.

Annabeth stepped backward to avoid a scorpion, and she yelped.

“Percy!”

He swung out his arm without looking. She grabbed it, but her momentum yanked him with her.

Together, they tumbled into a crack between two of the largest boulders, into a hole that Percy was sure hadn’t been there moments before.

Above, Percy could see the scorpions, the purple evening sky and the trees, and then the hole shut like the lens of a camera, and they were in complete darkness.

It smelled like earthy sand and rock.

They crashed to the ground with two oofs!

“Ow,” Annabeth said.

Percy silently echoed that sentiment. He pushed himself up.

Their breathing echoed against the stone. It was wet and cold. Underneath them was a bumpy floor that seemed to be made of brick.

He lifted Riptide. The faint glow of the blade was just enough to illuminate Annabeth’s frightened face and the mossy stone walls on either side of them.

“Wh-where are we?” Annabeth said.

“Safe from scorpions, at least,” Percy answered, keeping his voice even.

The crack shouldn’t have led to a cave. Percy would’ve known it was there. It was like the ground had opened up and swallowed them.

But this wasn’t the Underworld and he couldn’t sense his uncle.

He lifted his sword again for light.

“It’s a long corridor,” Percy said.

Annabeth gripped his arm.

There was a warm breeze, like in subway tunnels, only it felt older, more dangerous somehow.

“Don’t—move—” Percy murmured.

“We need to find the exit.” Annabeth’s voice was filled with fear.

The ceiling where they’d fallen in showed no sign that it had opened at all. It was solid stone. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions.

Annabeth’s hand slipped into Percy’s.

“Two steps back,” she advised.

They stepped backward together like they were in a mine-field.

Percy felt like something was laughing at them; the floors were beginning to rumble minutely.

“Okay,” she said. “Help me examine the walls.”

“Would there be an exit in the wall if we fell from the ceiling?”

“Possibly,” she murmured. Her hands searched the wall. “Hopefully. We need to find…the mark of Daedalus.”

“Got it!” She said with relief. She set her hand on the wall and pressed against a tiny fissure, which began to glow blue. A Greek symbol appeared: Δ, Delta.

The roof slid open and they saw the night sky, stars blazing. It was a lot darker than it should’ve been. Metal ladder rungs appeared in the side of the wall, leading up, and Percy could hear people yelling their names.

“Percy!” Tyson’s voice bellowed the loudest, a panicked tinge in his voice. Others were calling out too.

At the top, a furry head peaked over, blue eyes gleaming down at them. The little blue-ribboned leopard chuffed at them in greeting.

“Galázia,” Percy greeted.

They began to climb.

The little leopard wove her way around their legs when they finally climbed out. Percy made sure to scritch her ear as they walked. They worked their way around the rocks and through the woods before they ran into Clarisse and a bunch of other campers carrying torches.

“Where have you two been?” Clarisse demanded. “We’ve been looking forever.”

Galázia chirped in agreement.

“You’re not going to like this,” Percy told her quietly. “It’s only been a few minutes for us.”

Chiron trotted up, followed by Tyson and Grover.

“Percy!” Tyson said with relief. He wrapped him in a hug. “You are okay?”

“We’re fine,” Percy said, hugging back. He pulled away after a moment and addressed the group, “We ran into a crack between the rocks, thought the floor was solid but it ended up collapsing underneath us.”

Clarisse looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“Three scorpions came after us, which is why we ran. It took us a while to climb back up,” Annabeth said, catching Percy’s eye.

“You’ve been missing for almost an hour,” Chiron said. “The game is over.”

Clarisse was wearing the gold laurels, but she didn’t even brag about winning them. She just kept looking between them suspiciously.

“We need to talk,” Percy said. “That’s a hazard for other campers.”

He turned to address the search group. “Thank you for helping look for us, but it’s getting close to curfew. Unless you want the harpies on your tail, you’ll get back to your cabins.”

The gathered campers grumbled something about ‘camp mom,’ but started to head off.

“And Travis!” Percy called. “Connor!”

The two brothers glanced back.

“We’ll be working on your stealth skills,” Percy told them. He frowned. “You’re going to learn to tip-toe or so help me…”

The boys paled. They took off back towards camp.

One of them tripped somewhere in the dark, and went down cursing.

Despite the situation, Chiron chuckled.

They waited until it was clear.

“You found it,” Clarisse stated when Annabeth nodded. “You found the entrance to the Labyrinth.”

Grover sputtered. He paled.

Tyson shifted closer to Percy.

“Yeah,” Percy confirmed. “Fell right into it. It explains what Luke is after. An invasion route straight into the heart of the camp.”

Galázia hissed at his words, her fur puffing up as she looped around Percy’s legs.

Chiron’s eyes darkened. He stared at the boulders as if he’d just noticed how dangerous they were.

“We will talk more in the morning,” he said. “This is neither the time nor the place. It is now after curfew for everyone. Off to bed with you all.”

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Percy dreamed of a prison.

He saw a boy in a Greek tunic and sandals crouching alone in a massive stone room. The ceiling was open to the night sky, but the walls were twenty feet high and polished marble, completely smooth. Scattered around the room were wooden crates. Some were cracked and tipped over, as if they’d been flung in there. Bronze tools spilled out of one—a compass, a saw, and a bunch of other things Percy didn’t recognise.

The boy huddled in the corner, shivering from cold, or maybe fear. He was spattered in mud. His legs, arms, and face were scraped up as if he’d been dragged there along with the boxes. He was trying to wrap his ankle with a worn piece of fabric.

“Are you okay?” Percy tried to ask.

He hadn’t expected anything to happen, but the boy’s head snapped upwards, his eyes widening in fear. He dropped his scraps and scrambled backwards into the wall.

“It’s okay,” Percy assured.

Well then, this was new.

How was the boy hearing him? How was the boy understanding him?

He put his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He moved closer slowly. The boy watched him, tracking him warily as he came near.

Percy slowly picked up the bandage wrap.

“Please,” he said, “let me.”

The boy didn’t move for a moment. He had brown hair, tanned skin, and his eyes were wide and a grey that was less sharp than warm. Slowly, he uncurled himself, sticking his leg out.

Percy gently took it. He straightened the boy’s leg, murmuring an apology when he hissed.

It wasn’t broken, but definitely sprained if the boy’s reaction was anything to go by. Percy carefully wrapped it the way Will had drilled into his head. He was unfortunately in his pajamas, so the only thing he could do…

Well, it was a dream.

The boy made a noise in the back of his throat when Percy ripped the end of his blue nightshirt. He layered the strips over the bandage.

“Try not to walk on it,” Percy advised. “At least not until it feels better.”

“Are you a god?”

Percy startled.

“What?”

The boy looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you a god?” He asked again. “You came from nowhere—there’s no way in from here except the door, but you appeared.”

“I’m not a god,” Percy protested.

The boy’s expression dropped.

Percy opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t think—”

Sounds came from the hallway.

Percy lunged backwards for the shadows. The boy watched him go, eyes wide.

The double oak doors moaned open. Two guards in bronze armour marched in, holding an old man between them. They flung him to the floor in a battered heap.

“Father!” The boy scrambled off the bed, collapsing to the man’s side when his ankle gave out on him.

The man’s robes were in tatters. His hair was streaked with grey, and his beard was long and curly. His nose had been broken. His lips were bloody.

The boy took the old man’s head in his arms. “What did they do to you?” Then he yelled at the guards, “I’ll kill you!”

“There will be no killing today,” a voice said.

The guards moved aside. Behind them stood a tall man in white robes. He wore a thin circlet of gold on his head. His beard was pointed like a spear blade. His eyes glittered cruelly. “You helped the Athenian kill my Minotaur, Daedalus. You turned my own daughter against me.”

“You did that yourself, Your Majesty,” the old man croaked.

A guard planted a kick in the old man’s ribs. He groaned in agony. The young boy cried, “Stop!”

“You love your maze so much,” the king said. “I have decided to let you stay here. This will be your workshop. Make me new wonders. Amuse me. Every maze needs a monster. You shall be mine!”

“I don’t fear you,” the old man murmured.

Percy’s skin crawled.

The king smiled coldly. He locked his eyes on the boy. “But a man cares about his son, eh? Displease me, old man, and the next time my guards inflict a punishment, it will be on him!”

The king swept out of the room with his guards, and the doors slammed shut, leaving the boy and his father alone in the darkness.

“What will we do?” The boy moaned. “Father, they will kill you!”

The old man swallowed with difficulty. He tried to smile to comfort the boy, but it was a gruesome sight with his blood mouth.

“Take heart, my son.” He gazed up at the stars. “I—I will find a way.”

A bar lowered across the doors with a fatal BOOM, and Percy woke in a cold sweat.

He sat up, his hands shaking. That was…

That was…

Too real.

Why were they getting realer?

He pushed himself up to get ready, and only as he was pulling off his shirt did he notice that it was ripped.

Exactly the way it had been in the dream.

He shoved it into his dresser and rushed to make it to the war council Chiron called. It was in the sword arena, which was pretty strange. Mrs. O’Leary was about halfway through a life-size squeaky pink rubber yak.

Chiron and Quintus stood at the front by the weapon racks. Clarisse and Annabeth sat next to each other and led the briefing, Tyson and Grover sat as far away from each other as possible. Also present around the table: Juniper, Silena, Travis and Connor Stoll, Beckendorf, Lee, and even Argus.

“Luke must have known about the Labyrinth entrance,” Annabeth said. “He knew everything about camp.”

There was a little pride in her voice, which had Percy frowning.

Juniper cleared her throat. “That’s what I was trying to tell you last night. The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it.”

Silena frowned. “You knew about the Labyrinth entrance, and you didn’t say anything?”

Juniper’s face turned green. “A yucky old cave,” she muttered.

“She has good taste,” Grover said.

“And it was Luke.” She blushed a little greener.

Grover huffed. “Forget what I said about good taste.”

“Interesting.” Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. “And you believe this young man, Luke, would dare use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?”

“Definitely,” Clarisse said. “If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about our magical boundaries, we wouldn’t stand a chance. He could wipe us out easily. He must’ve been planning this for months.”

“He’s been sending scouts into the maze,” Annabeth said. “We know because…because we found one.”

“Chris Rodriguez,” Chiron said. He gave Quintus a meaningful look.

“Ah,” Quintus said. “The one in the…Yes. I understand.”

Percy looked at Clarisse sharply, but she avoided his eyes. “The point is, Luke has been looking for a way to navigate the maze. He’s searching for Daedalus’s workshop.”

“Yes,” Annabeth said. “The greatest architect, the greatest inventor of all time. If the legends are true, the workshop is in the centre of the Labyrinth. He’s the only one who knew how to navigate the maze perfectly. If Luke managed to find the workshop and convince Daedalus to help him, Luke wouldn’t have to fumble around searching for paths, or risk losing his army in the maze’s traps. He could navigate anywhere he wanted—quickly and safely. First to Camp Half-Blood to wipe us out. Then…to Olympus.”

The arena was silent except for Mrs. O’Leary’s squeaky toy.

Finally, Beckendorf put his huge hands on the table. “Back up a sec. Annabeth, you said ‘convince Daedalus’? Isn’t Daedalus dead?”

Quintus grunted. “I would hope so. He lived, what, three thousand years ago? And even if he were alive, don’t the old stories say he fled from the Labyrinth?”

“Does anyone ever truly escape the maze?” Percy mused.

Quintus’ eyes sharpened.

Chiron clopped restlessly on his hooves. “That’s the problem, my dear Quintus. No one knows. There are rumours…well, there are many disturbing rumours about Daedalus, but one is that he disappeared back into the Labyrinth toward the end of his life. He might still be down there.”

“We need to go in,” Annabeth announced. “We have to find the workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we convince him to help us, not Luke. If Ariadne’s string still exists, we make sure it never falls into Luke’s hands.”

“And we can’t destroy the entrance we found?” Percy asked.

Grover nodded enthusiastically.

“Not so easy,” Clarisse growled. “We tried that at the entrance we found in Phoenix. It didn’t go well.”

Annabeth nodded. “The Labyrinth is magical architecture. It would take huge power to seal even one of its entrances. In Phoenix, Clarisse demolished a whole building with a wrecking ball, and the maze entrance just shifted a few feet. The best we can do is prevent Luke from learning to navigate the Labyrinth.”

“We could fight,” Lee said. “We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a defensive line and wait for them. If an army tries to come through, they’ll find us waiting with our bows.”

“We will certainly set up defenses,” Chiron agreed. “But I fear Clarisse is right. The magical borders have kept the camp safe for hundreds of years. If Luke manages to get a large army of monsters into the centre of camp, bypassing our boundaries…we may not have the strength to defeat them.”

Nobody looked happy about that news. Chiron usually tried to be optimistic. If even he was predicting they couldn’t hold off an attack…

“We have to get to Daedalus’s workshop first,” Annabeth insisted. “Find Ariadne’s string and prevent Luke from using it.”

“If nobody can navigate in there,” Percy said, “what makes it so we will?”

“I’ve been studying architecture for years,” she said. “I know Daedalus’s Labyrinth better than anybody.”

Percy was quiet. Pride, he thought, hubris.

It seemed to run in that side of the family.

Chiron cleared his throat. “First things first. We need a quest. Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Luke from using the maze to invade this camp.”

“We all know who should lead this,” Clarisse said. “Annabeth.”

There was a murmur of agreement, but she looked uncomfortable.

“You’ve done as much as I have, Clarisse,” she said. “You should go, too.”

Clarisse shook her head. “I’m not going back in there. Once was enough. That maze…”

She fell silent. The other campers shifted uncomfortably.

For something to rattle even Clarisse…this was looking worse by the second.

Chiron shuffled. “So we all have an agreement that Annabeth should lead the quest?”

They all nodded except Quintus, but nobody noticed.

“Very well.” Chiron turned to Annabeth. “My dear, it’s your time to visit the Oracle. Assuming you return to us in one piece, we shall discuss what to do next.”

Percy watched her go, and then turned to the gathered war council. “We need to discuss defenses,” he said. “Ideas?”

They discussed several different strategies as they waited. Eventually, Annabeth came back.

There was a look of fear in her eyes.

“I got the prophecy,” she said. “I will lead the quest to find Daedalus’s workshop.”

Nobody cheered. They waited.

Chiron scraped a hoof on the dirt floor. “What did the prophecy say exactly, my dear? The wording is important.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. “I, ah…well, it said, You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze…”

They waited.

“The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise.”

Grover perked up. “The lost one! That must mean Pan! That’s great!”

“‘Dead’ and ‘traitor’,” Percy murmured thoughtfully.

“And?” Chiron asked. “What is the rest?”

“You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand,” Annabeth said, “the child of Athena’s final stand.”

Everyone looked around uncomfortably.

“Hey…we shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Silena said. “Annabeth isn’t the only child of Athena, right?”

“Daedalus is one,” Percy confirmed.

Quintus froze.

“But who’s this ghost king?” Beckendorf asked.

No one answered. Percy tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Are there more lines?” Chiron asked. “The prophecy does not sound complete.”

Annabeth hesitated. “I don’t remember exactly.”

Chiron raised an eyebrow.

Annabeth shifted on her bench. “Something about…Destroy with a hero’s final breath.”

“And?” Chiron asked.

She stood. “Look, the point is, I have to go in. I’ll find the workshop and stop Luke. And…I need help.” She turned to Percy. “Will you come?”

“Always,” Percy said. “We can’t lose camp.”

She smiled for the first time in days. “Grover, you too? The wild god is waiting.”

Grover seemed to forget how much he hated the underground. He agreed enthusiastically.

“And Tyson,” Annabeth said. “I’ll need you too.”

“Wait, Annabeth,” Chiron said. “This goes against the ancient laws. A hero is allowed only two companions.”

“I need them all,” she insisted. “Chiron, it’s important.”

“Annabeth.” Chiron flicked his tail nervously. “Consider well. You would be breaking the ancient laws, and there are always consequences. Last winter, five went on a quest to save Artemis. Only three came back. Think on that. Three is a sacred number. There are three Fates, Three Furies, three Olympians sons of the Titan-King, three Olympian daughters. It is a good strong number that stands against many dangers. Four…this is risky.”

“Except four came back on the last quest,” Percy pointed out. His fist curled. “And the one that didn’t was fated to perish. Maybe it’s time for the ancient laws to change.”

Annabeth took a deep breath. “I know the risks,” she told Chiron. “But we have to. Please.”

Chiron obviously didn’t like it. Quintus was studying them all, like he was trying to decide which of them would come back alive.

Chiron sighed. “Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, we send you into the Labyrinth.”

Quintus pulled Percy aside as the council was breaking up.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he told Percy.

Mrs. O’Leary came over, wagging her tail happily. She dropped the shield she’d found at Percy’s feet, and he threw it for her. Quintus watched her romp after it.

Percy didn’t trust him, but he could believe that the concern in his eyes was real.

“I don’t like the idea of you going down there,” he said. “Any of you. But if you must, I want you to remember something. The Labyrinth exists to fool you. It will distract you. That’s dangerous for half-bloods. We are easily distracted.”

“You’ve been in there?”

“Long ago.” His voice was ragged. “I barely escaped with my life. Most who enter aren’t that lucky.”

He gripped Percy’s shoulder, sending tingles down his arm. “Percy, keep your mind on what matters most. If you can do that, you might find the way. And here, I wanted to give you something.”

He handed Percy a little silver tube. It was so cold, Percy almost dropped it.

“A whistle?” Percy asked.

“A dog whistle,” Quintus said. “For Mrs. O’Leary.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to him. “You…know her?”

He smiled, though his eyes were still filled with concern. “I took care of her for a time; she’d gotten separated from her brood. She, ah, well, I’ve never seen her quite so affectionate as I have when she’s with you.”

Percy reexamined the whistle. “How will it work in the maze?”

“Mrs. O’Leary is a hellhound. She can appear when called, as you’ve probably noticed, no matter how far she is. I’d feel better knowing you had this. If you really need help, use it; but be careful, the whistle is made of Stygian ice.”

“From the River Styx?”

“Very hard to craft,” Quintus confirmed. “Very delicate. It cannot melt, but it will shatter when you blow it, so you can only use it once.”

Percy nodded, and tried not to think of another gift he’d gotten so long ago.

“Thank you,” he said. He slipped the freezing whistle into his pocket.

It was time to get ready for the Labyrinth.

That night, he had another dream. He was on the Princess Andromeda. The windows were open on a moonlit sea. Cold wind rustled the velvet drapes.

Luke knelt on a Persian rug in front of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. In the moonlight, Luke’s blonde hair looked pure white. He wore an ancient Greek chiton and a white himation. The white clothes made him look timeless and a little unreal, like one of the minor gods on Mount Olympus.

A far cry from the broken body Percy had gotten a glimpse of when he’d fallen from Mount Tam.

He looked perfectly fine now. Almost too healthy.

“Our spies report success, my lord,” he said. “Camp Half-Blood is sending a quest, as you predicted. Our side of the bargain is almost complete.”

Excellent. The voice of Kronos didn’t so much speak as pierce Percy’s mind like a dagger. It was freezing with cruelty, and it was stronger than it had been. Once we have the means to navigate, I will lead the vanguard through myself.

Something in the air…twinged.

Another force, familiar, circled around them. It was the smell of a thousand different rivers, a thousand different bodies of water all at once.

It smelled like crabs.

Percy frowned. He focused on the smell, and left Luke to Kronos as he dove down, down, down into the water which surrounded them.

Down into the dark where…

“Oceanus!”

The water swirled. In the depths below, a figure didn’t form, but they were there all the same.

“What are you doing?” Percy asked. He accused, “You’re helping them.”

A hand grabbed his foot, and he was dragged even deeper.

“You should not be here,” Oceanus said sternly, pulling Percy into his arms.

Like he had appeared in Atlantis, the titan was only half there. Made up of the water around them, Percy could barely make out his face. He hadn’t noticed before, but there seemed something like bull horns and crab claws jutting from the top of the titan’s head.

“Trust me,” Percy said, annoyed. “I would be anywhere else right now if I could.”

Oceanus huffed. “You do have quite strong sight,” he mused. “That is why he is so displeased.”

“Forget him,” Percy said. “What are you doing?”

Oceanus stared down at him.

“You are quite audacious,” he muttered. “Every single time that god has a child, I feel my age. Every single time.”

Percy, frustrated by now, grabbed the titan’s face. He ignored the absolute look of shock he received for it.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

Percy was sure that this was where he was going to die, where he had finally pushed too far. He had only met Oceanus once, back when Poseidon had brought him to Atlantis. It had not been his best idea, pushing like this, but Oceanus was supposed to be family, and he was sick and tired of losing family.

Except Oceanus did not grow angry.

He sighed. Bubbles exploded around them.

And Percy woke up.

He cursed, and threw his covers aside.

The fountain was glowing again. Percy was just glad Tyson was such a heavy sleeper that the brightness which peaked under the doorway did not bother him.

He approached the water.

No voice spoke out of the water this time, asking for a deposit. Percy got the feeling the fountain was waiting for him to make the first move.

“You keep doing this,” Percy murmured. Louder, he spoke, “Show me Nico di Angelo.”

He didn’t even throw a coin in; The water shimmered.

Nico appeared, but he was no longer in the Underworld.

And he wasn’t alone.

Percy glared at the nasty ghost that was standing way too close to his little brother for comfort. He watched them complete some sort of ritual.

Nico raised the dead with co*ke and cheeseburgers, and the first to step forward was…

“No,” Percy whispered.

A teenage guy in Greek armour. He had curly hair and green eyes, a clasp shaped like a seashell on his cloak. He didn’t look any older than Percy.

“Who are you?” Nico said. “Speak.”

The young man frowned as if trying to remember. Then he spoke in a voice like dry, crumpling paper: “I am Theseus.”

Nico asked something, but Percy couldn’t focus on it.

Theseus looked…like him. The same wild black hair, the same twist of his lips while he was thinking.

“Will this quest into the Labyrinth help me?” Nico asked.

Theseus was looking for the ghost, but apparently couldn’t see him. Slowly, he turned his eyes back on Nico.

“The Labyrinth is treacherous. There is only one thing that saw me through: the love of a mortal girl. The string was only part of the answer. It was the princess who guided me.”

The ghost disagreed.

“A soul for a soul,” Nico asked. “Is it true?”

“I—I must say yes. But the specter—”

“Just answer the question, knave!” The ghost snapped.

Suddenly, around the edges of the pool, the other ghosts became restless. They stirred, whispering in nervous tones.

Something was happening.

“Stop.” Percy found his voice. “Stop it! Nico!”

The water in his fountain began to tremble, humming with power. The whole cabin was shaking, Percy noticed. The noise grew louder. The image of Nico in the graveyard started to glow until it was painful to watch.

“Nico!”

The fountain began to crack. Purple light threw horrible, ghostly shadows on the cabin walls, as if the specters were escaping right out of the fountain.

Percy uncapped Riptide and slashed at the fountain, cleaving the image in two and lodging his sword in the stone. Salt water overflowed over the lip, sending it down the hall in small waves before it poured into the pool.

It grew quiet.

Percy sank to the ground, shivering.

That was how Tyson found him there in the morning, still staring at the crack he’d had made in the saltwater fountain.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Just after dawn, the quest group met at Zeus’s Fist. Percy had packed his blue and yellow bag with the seahorse charm—his water bottle, thermos with nectar, baggie of ambrosia, rope, flashlights, and even his credit card. Riptide was in his pocket. He had on his Artemis approved sweater and his rain jacket. His circlet sparkled on his head, and his new magic shield wristwatch on his wrist.

It was a clear morning. The fog had burned off and the sky was blue. Campers would be having their lessons as normal, and in between they’d be working on building camp’s defenses in case the group failed.

Juniper had barely left Grover’s side as he packed, looking as if she’d been crying again. He was dressed as a human as they had no idea what they would encounter.

Chiron, Quintus, and Mrs. O’Leary stood with the other campers who’d come to wish them well, but there was too much activity for it to feel like a happy send-off. A couple of tents had been set up by the rocks for guard duty. Beckendorf and his siblings were working on a line of defensive spikes and trenches. Aiden and Nadia, the Apollo twins, were making plans with Connor and Travis, examining the surrounding trees and making marks in Nadia’s trademark notebook. Justine followed behind, noting down supplies they would need to pass onto Amiah, a daughter of Hermes, and Andrew, a son of Athena, the two who took care of camp supplies.

Chiron had decided they needed to guard the Labyrinth exit at all times.

Annabeth was doing one last check on her supply pack. When Tyson and Percy came over, she frowned. “Percy, you look terrible.”

“Rough night,” he answered.

Chiron trotted over. “Well, it appears you are ready!”

He tried to sound upbeat, but anyone could tell he was anxious.

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Percy said.

They waved goodbye to the collected group.

Chiron watched them go like he was trying to memorise their faces. Quintus looked much the same, like he was watching them attend their own funeral march.

Together, the four of them descended into the dark.

The first thing Percy noticed about the Labyrinth was the sheer earthy-sand smell of it, like he had the time before.

The smell, he was beginning to understand, stuck to the inhabitants. No matter how long it had been, no matter how much time had passed, the ones who walked into the Labyrinth would forever have the subtle reminder that they had been in there in the first place.

Does anyone ever truly escape the maze, indeed.

They made it a hundred feet before they were hopelessly lost.

The tunnel looked nothing like the one Annabeth and Percy had stumbled into before. Now it was round like a sewer, constructed of red brick with iron-barred portholes every ten feet. Percy had curiously looked through one, but all that was there was infinite darkness and the whisper of voices.

He hadn’t tried again.

Annabeth tried her best to guide them. She started with an idea that they should stick to the left wall, but the moment she voiced it, the left wall disappeared. They found themselves in the middle of a circular chamber with eight tunnels leading out, and had no idea how’d they gotten there.

The Labyrinth, Percy was starting to understand, was laughing at them.

“Um, which way did we come in?” Grover said nervously.

“Just turn around,” Annabeth said.

They each turned toward a different tunnel.

“Left walls are mean,” Tyson decided. “Which way now?”

Annabeth swept her flashlight beam over the arches of the eight tunnels. As far as Percy could tell, they were identical. “That way,” she said.

Grover, Percy, and Tyson shared a look and followed.

The tunnel she’d chosen narrowed quickly. The walls turned to grey cement, and the ceiling got so low that soon they were hunching over. Tyson was forced to crawl.

Grover’s hyperventilating was the loudest noise in the whole maze. “I can’t stand it anymore,” he whispered. “Are we there yet?”

“We’ve been down here maybe five minutes,” Annabeth told him.

“It’s been longer than that,” Grover insisted. “And why would Pan be down here? This is the opposite of the wild!”

“Is it?” Percy questioned. “I don’t know about you, but this is the wildest experience ever.”

They kept shuffling forward. Just when Percy was sure the tunnel would get so narrow they would be wiggling down it, it opened into a huge room. Percy shined his light around the walls and said, “Whoa.”

The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were grey and faded, but he could still make out the colours—red, blue, green, gold. The frieze showed the Olympian gods at a feast. There was his dad, Poseidon, with his trident, holding out grapes for Dionysus to turn into wine. Zeus was partying with satyrs, and Hermes was flying through the air on his winged sandals. The pictures were beautiful, but they weren’t that accurate.

For one, Percy realised, they were Roman.

And Hermes’s nose was surely not that big even in his Roman form.

In the middle of the room was a three-tiered fountain. It looked like it hadn’t held water in a long time.

“This place is…” Percy breathed. “Old.”

“Roman,” Annabeth said. “Those mosaics are about two thousand years old.”

“It distorts time down here, too?” Percy asked.

That was…not a comforting thought.

Could they walk out of there in Ancient Greece?

Don’t even think about it, Percy scolded. He wasn’t quite sure if he was telling himself or the Labyrinth.

“The Labyrinth is a patchwork,” Annabeth said. “Always expanding, adding pieces. It’s the only work of architecture that grows by itself.”

“You—” Grover cleared his throat. “You make it sound like it’s alive.”

A groaning noise echoed from the tunnel in front of them.

“Maybe it is,” Percy said.

Grover whimpered.

“All right,” Annabeth said. “Forward.”

“Down the hall with the bad sounds?” Tyson said. Even he looked nervous.

“Yeah,” Annabeth said. “The architecture is getting older. That’s a good sign. Daedalus’s workshop would be in the oldest part.”

Percy spared one last look at the frieze.

That cemented it. He was going to get a camera, possible monster-attractor be damned.

Annabeth’s argument had made sense, but the maze had picked up on it and was absolutely toying with them—they went fifty feet and the tunnel turned back to cement, with brass pipes running down the sides. The walls were spray-painted with graffiti. A neon tagger sign read MOZ RULZ.

“I’m thinking this is not Roman,” Percy said helpfully.

Annabeth took a deep breath, then forged ahead.

Every few feet the tunnels twisted and turned and branched off. The floor beneath them changed from cement to mud to bricks and back again. There was no sense to any of it. They stumbled into a wine cellar like they were walking through somebody’s basem*nt, only there was no exit above them, just more tunnels leading on.

A part of Percy could appreciate the chaos; This was how he worked, after all.

Eventually, the ceiling turned to wooden planks, and Percy could hear voices above them and the creaking of footsteps, as if they were walking under some kind of bar.

That was where they found their first skeleton.

He was dressed in white clothes, like some kind of uniform. A wooden crate of glass bottles sat next to him.

“How lovely,” Percy said grimly.

“Some people wander in by mistake,” Annabeth explained. “Some come exploring on purpose and never make it back. A long time ago, the Cretans even sent people in here as human sacrifices.”

Percy had to wonder if the sacrifices were less for the Minotaur and more for the maze itself.

The air shivered with cruel delight.

Grover gulped. “He’s been down here a long time.” He pointed to the skeleton’s bottles, which were covered with white dust. The skeleton’s fingers were clawing at the brick wall, like he had died trying to get out.

“Only bones,” Tyson said. “Don’t worry, goat boy. The milkman is dead.”

“The milkman doesn’t bother me,” Grover said. “It’s the smell. Monsters. Can’t you smell it?”

Percy had been trying not to think about it actually.

Tyson nodded. “Lots of monsters. But underground smells like that. Monsters and dead milk people.”

“Oh good,” Grover whimpered. “I thought maybe I was wrong.”

“We have to get deeper into the maze,” Annabeth said. “There has to be a way to the centre.”

Applying logic to such a logic-less thing, Percy thought.

Annabeth took one step forward, and the floor changed right under them.

“Watch out!” Grover yelped, and then they were all gone.

Percy lunged for Tyson, only to crash right into another wall.

“What’s going—” Annabeth’s voice cut off.

Percy focused on his breathing, and pushed himself back up. The walls had a stone feel to them, but they weren’t smooth. He could barely stretch out his arms on either side without brushing against them. Under him, the dirt and old wood had shifted to sand. Above him, large shadows were casted by the stone walls. The sky was a bright blue.

He couldn’t smell any of the others.

“Well,” he muttered, “great.”

He picked one of the directions and moved forward.

The path went on forever, harsh corners sending him left or right with no rhyme or reason.

On and on and on, until he was sure he was just walking in circles.

Except he never saw any of the symbols he carved into the stone.

On and on and on, like that milkman had probably done.

Eventually, he sat down.

“This is a bit boring,” he announced to the walls. “I’d like out now, please.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, surprisingly, there was a grinding sound.

The wall in front of him shuddered and moved aside, revealing vineyards that went on for seemingly miles.

Percy stepped out into the soft grass.

“Thanks,” he said, and walked on.

In the distance, a large house rose up.

Unlike the Greek temples he was used to seeing, this resembled a beautiful old Italian villa in perfect condition.

He reached up to knock on the nicely painted brown door, but it opened right before his knuckles brushed against the wood.

“Come on in, dear,” a voice called, “I felt your feet hit the ground.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” he murmured, and stepped into the house.

He followed the smell of brewing tea and softly playing music. There were beautiful paintings on the walls—picturesque places and people playing, dancing, living.

“Ariadne,” he greeted in the entryway.

“Hello, Percy,” she greeted, smiling. “Come sit. Rest. The Labyrinth is not easy to traverse.”

She wore her long red chiton, a shawl of intricate patterns and colourful embroidered animals, and her hair was tied back with a long white bandana. The bracelet he’d given her was on her wrist: wine purple thread with a grape charm and a leopard charm to match Dionysus’s, as well as a little maze charm, all surrounded by purple to red ombre beads.

The room was comfortable, covered in red rugs and green plants. A gentle fire crackled in the fireplace, and a breeze blew through the open window, rustling curtains and papers.

“You hold no ill-will to it?” He asked, and sat in the armchair across from her. “The Labyrinth?”

A warm cup of tea appeared in his hands.

“I am associated with mazes and labyrinths,” she said, “of tricky paths, but arguably more important, the way out. I escaped the Maze, Percy, and though it never leaves me, it cannot control me.”

“But it can’t be controlled either.”

“No,” she allowed. “But perhaps that is what draws us together.”

She wasn’t just talking about the Labyrinth.

“Tell me, Percy…” She placed her cup aside. Her dark brown eyes swirled—blood and wine and dirt but somehow still gentle.

Still kind.

“Do you know what is coming?”

He fiddled with the handle on his cup, watching the brown liquid ripple.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “A choice,” he said, “something I can’t come back from.”

“Sometimes the paths we choose leave us no other option than to keep moving forward,” Ariadne agreed. “But forward—that is not a bad option.”

“No,” he allowed, “but…but it can be scary.”

She smiled softly. “All paths can be scary,” she said gently. “That is why it is better to never travel alone.”

“You end up leaving people behind.”

“Do the people we love ever truly leave us?” She countered. “Sometimes they will follow along, sometimes they will find a different path but end up in the same place. Sometimes we find new people. Yes, sometimes we simply lose them. But the people we truly love give us pieces of themselves to carry on.”

His eyes landed on her horns.

“Sometimes,” she said, and her eyes sparkled like the star-dripping diadem she’d worn on Olympus, “the people we truly love are what really scares us, but we do it anyway because they are all we have.”

Percy placed his cup down and stood.

“Your path awaits you,” Ariadne said, “and it is neither easy nor kind, but I think it is the one you will take regardless. I wish I could give you something to help, but you already have everything you need.”

Outside, there was a rumbling, like stones shifting.

“Thank you for the tea,” Percy said.

He exited the house, the music gently drifting behind him.

In front of the door were stone steps, leading down into darkness.

Percy marched inside the Labyrinth, and the ceiling creaked and shifted as it closed behind him. Naxos was closed off to him.

The path winded downward, on and on once more through stone and dirt paths, until…

“Tyson!”

He nearly slammed into his brother.

“Percy!” He greeted him in relief.

Percy asked, “Are you okay?”

He looked over the Cyclops, but he seemed to be in the same condition as before, if a bit more dusty.

“Fine,” Tyson said. “Are you?”

“Also fine. Have you seen any of the others?”

Tyson shook his head.

“That’s all right, let’s go this way then…”

They followed a third path, which was a long brick hallway like they were walking between two buildings.

Tyson coughed. “I think I smell goat-boy,” he muttered.

“Enchiladas,” Percy agreed. They took off down a tunnel and came to a crossroads, where…

“Grover!” Percy greeted. “Annabeth!”

The pair whirled around from where they’d been trying to pick a path.

“There you guys are,” Annabeth said in relief.

“This maze sucks,” complained Grover. “It’s so confusing down here.”

“Is everyone alright?” Annabeth checked them both over, and nodded upon seeing them mostly uninjured. “Come on, we should go this way.”

She led them to the path on the right, and then took the first left, through a corridor of stainless steel like some kind of air shaft. Then they arrived back in the Roman tile room with the fountain.

This time, they weren’t alone.

Percy breathed in the smell of disturbed dust, keys and doorways, a crescendo of soft smells to stronger ones.

He first noticed the god’s faces. Both of them. They jutted out from either side of his head, staring over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than it should’ve been, kind of like a hammerhead shark’s. Looking straight at him, all Percy could see were two overlapping ears and mirror-image sideburns.

He was dressed like a New York City doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black top-hat that somehow managed to stay on his double-wide head.

But that was just the surface.

Below that image was someone intangible, a flickering being that existed here and there at the same time. A being who existed everywhere. The branches of light from him spun and twirled outward like an exploding sun. Through him, Percy could see the beginning, and he could see the end.

“Close your eyes, Sea Child,” the branches spoke all together, thrumming with life, with white, gold, red, purple, black— “Before you blind yourself.”

Percy slammed his eyes closed; he tilted his head in respect but did not bow.

“Hail,” he said. “Janus, the God of Beginnings and Endings, of Transitions, of Duality, of Doorways and Paths and Choices.”

“How joyous,” the god said with two overlapping voices. One was rougher, the other softer, but their tone said they were both pleased. “A proper greeting. But this is not your time, child. A choice you may yet make has not yet arrived.”

They shifted their attention.

“Well, Annabeth?” The voice on the left said, the rougher one. “Hurry up!”

“Don’t mind him,” said the voice from the right, the softer one. “He’s terribly rude. Right this way, miss.”

Percy accepted Tyson’s offer to hold his hand.

Annabeth stuttered, “Uh…I don’t…”

Tyson made a noise. “He has two faces.”

“And ears,” the left side scolded.

Percy peaked his eyes open to see what they were talking about.

Behind him were two exits, blocked by wooden doors with huge iron locks. They hadn’t been there their first time through the room. The two-faced god held a silver key, which he kept passing from his left hand to his right hand.

Behind them, the doorway they’d come through had disappeared, replaced by more mosaics. They wouldn’t be going back the way they came.

Percy closed his eyes again.

“The exits are closed,” Annabeth said.

“Duh!” The left voice said.

“Where do they lead?” She asked.

“One probably leads the way you wish to go,” the right voice said encouragingly. “The other leads to certain death.”

“I—I know who you are,” Annabeth said.

“So did he,” the left voice sneered. “But do you know which way to choose? I don’t have all day.”

“Why are you trying to confuse me?” Annabeth asked.

The right face had a smile in its voice. “You’re in charge now, my dear. All the decisions are on your shoulders. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I—”

“We know you, Annabeth,” the left voice said. “We know what you wrestle with every day. We know your indecision. You will have to make your choice sooner or later. And the choice may kill you.”

“No…I don’t—”

“Why must the choice be made now?” Percy asked.

“Because it must be,” the left voice said sternly.

“Because soon there will no longer be any way to avoid it,” the right said gently.

Percy pursed his lips. He looked at where Annabeth was standing. “Whatever you decide,” he said, “we’re here.”

“I—I choose—”

Before she could point to a door, a brilliant light flooded into the room, so bright Percy could see it from behind his eyelids.

He opened his eyes when it cleared, avoiding looking at the dual god.

A woman was standing at the fountain.

She was tall and graceful with long hair the colour of chocolate, braided in plaits with gold ribbon. She wore a simple white dress, but when she moved, the fabric shimmered with colours like oil on water. A belt of black and white feathers like that of a cuckoo bird was wrapped around her waist. She had on no shoes, merely soft green ribbons which wrapped around her feet and up her ankles.

On her head, she had brilliant white horns, decorated with golden chains which dangled small and glittery golden apples. She wore a golden crown, interlaid with blue and green and purple gems, and she had on the same long and beautiful soft green veil Percy had seen when he had first met the council. Behind her, a train of peaco*ck feathers fluttered gently to the ground.

She smelled like iris, myrrh, and lilies.

“Janus,” she said, “you are too early and you know it. The girl’s time has not yet come.”

“Ah,” the right face said. “But it is never too early to decide.”

“Janus.”

“Yes, milady,” the right face sighed.

The left face grumbled.

They addressed Annabeth at the same time, “Soon, you will have to decide. This is not a choice you can run from.”

The left head then raised his silver key, inserted it into the air, and disappeared.

The goddess turned toward them. Her eyes shined with power.

“You must be hungry,” she said. “Sit with me and talk.”

She waved her hand, and the old Roman fountain began to flow. Jets of clear water sprayed into the air. A marble table appeared, laden with platters of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade.

“I am Hera.” The woman smiled. “Queen of Olympus.”

Not one to ignore an offering, Percy sat in the chair closest to the fountain, which put him right next to the goddess. Tyson followed on Percy’s otherside, and Grover cautiously sat next to him. Annabeth trickled to the table last.

Hera served them sandwiches and poured lemonade.

“Grover, dear,” she said, “use your napkin. Don’t eat it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Grover said.

“Tyson, you’re wasting away. Would you like another peanut butter sandwich?”

Tyson nodded. “Yes, nice lady.”

Percy watched this with wide eyes, unable to stop his lips from twitching.

Goddess of Family, of course.

“Queen Hera,” Annabeth said. “I can’t believe it. What are you doing in the Labyrinth?”

Hera smiled. She flicked on finger and Annabeth’s hair combed itself. All the dirt and grime disappeared from her face.

“I came to see you, naturally,” the goddess said.

Percy caught Grover’s nervous look in the corner of his eye.

But so far…so far when the gods have come looking for him, they’ve helped in some way, so Percy withheld his judgement.

He peered into the fountain. It was a lot deeper than it should probably be.

“I didn’t think—” Annabeth faltered. “Well, I didn’t think you liked heroes.”

Hera smiled indulgently. “A lot of history is warped and twisted; I am an easy target for judgement, for both things I have done, and for things I have not.”

“And not all heroes are good,” Percy muttered.

Hera’s smile grew wider. She reached out and gently tugged Percy away from the fountain. “Let us not fall in there now, child. I would rather you not get lost.”

“But…with Hercules, didn’t you try to kill him? And Jason…”

Percy frowned at the girl. Was she trying to irritate the goddess?

But Hera waved her hand dismissively. “Hercules was one of my husband’s children by another woman, and you would be hard-pressed to find a god who likes him. As for Jason, he abandoned his wife and broke the sanctity of marriage while under my blessing. I took it away. What happened after was what the Fates decreed.”

Annabeth swallowed. She moved away from the topic. “Why was Janus here? He was driving me crazy.”

“That was not his intention,” Hera said. “Janus, though you might think he a minor god, is anything but. He is the Beginning and the End of the Roman pantheon. He is neither kind nor cruel; He just is.”

Percy’s eyes shot to the goddess. She was looking at him as she said it, her eyes soft and understanding.

She turned back to Annabeth. “As for true minor gods. Some, I fear, have little love for Olympus, and could easily be swayed to support the rise of my father.”

Annabeth frowned. “How can we stop them?”

“For now,” Hera replied, “we cannot. We can only keep watch, reach out, and hope. You see, in times of trouble, even gods can lose faith. They start putting their trust in the wrong things, petty things. They stop looking at the big picture and start being selfish. But I am the Goddess of Marriage and the Goddess of Family, you see. I am used to perseverance. You have to rise above the squabbling and chaos, and keep believing. You have to always keep your goals in mind.”

“What are your goals?” Annabeth asked.

She smiled. “To keep my family together, of course. Zeus does not allow me to interfere much, I am afraid, and unlike the others my movements are much more…watched. But once every century or so, for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish.”

“A wish?”

“Before you ask it, let me give you some advice, which I can do for free. I know you seek Daedalus. His Labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But if you want to know his fate, I would visit my son Hephaestus at his forge. Daedalus was a great inventor, a mortal after Hephaestus’s heart. There has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would have kept up with Daedalus and could tell you his fate, it is Hephaestus.”

“But how do we get there?” Annabeth asked.

“Wait—” Percy tried.

“That’s my wish. I want a way to navigate the Labyrinth.”

Hera looked disappointed. “So be it…You wish for something, however, that you have already been given.”

Percy winced.

“I don’t understand.”

“The means is already within your grasp.” She looked at Percy. “Percy knows the answer.”

“Only a theory,” he said weakly, hoping to soften the blow, “now confirmed.”

“But that’s not fair,” Annabeth said. “You’re not telling us what it is!”

Hera shook her head. “Getting something and having the wits to use it…those are two different things. I am sure your mother would agree.”

The room rumbled like distant thunder. Hera sighed and stood.

“That would be my cue. Zeus grows impatient. Think on what I have said, Annabeth. Seek out Hephaestus. You will have to pass through the ranch, I imagine. But keep going. And use all the means at your disposal, however common they may seem.”

She pointed toward the two doors and they melted away, revealing twin corridors, open and dark. “One last thing, Annabeth. I have postponed your day of choice. I have not prevented it. Soon, as Janus said, you will have to make a decision. Now farewell, children, and take care.”

She waved a hand and turned into white smoke. The food on the table bundled together into plastic bags for them to take. The fountain trickled to a stop and the floor of it recemented. The mosaic walls dimmed and turned grungy and faded again.

Annabeth stamped her foot. “What sort of help was that? ‘Here, have a sandwich. Make a wish. Oops, I can’t help you!’ Poof!”

“Poof,” Tyson agreed sadly.

“But she did help,” Percy pointed out. “We should not look down on that.”

“She said Percy knows the answer. That’s something,” Grover agreed.

They all looked at him.

“A clear-sighted mortal,” Percy said. “That’s what I think she meant—a mortal who can see past the Mist. There must be a way for them to easily traverse the Labyrinth. The only problem is…”

“There’s no clear-sighted mortals down here,” Grover finished grimly. “And even then, where would we find one?”

“My mom,” Percy answered immediately. “She’s clear-sighted. If not her then…someone from the group she runs, like Rachel.”

“Rachel?” Annabeth asked.

He nodded. “I mentioned her when I explained the story from last winter, but didn’t go into detail. She’s a girl I ran into at Hoover Dam. She was able to see my sword and the skeletons after me; she saved my life by distracting them. I gave her my mom’s number in case she had questions. Turns out, she lives in New York City.”

Annabeth was quiet for a moment. Finally, she sighed. “Well, for now, I guess we’ll just keep going.”

She faced the two paths. “Which way?”

“Left,” all three boys answered.

She frowned. “How can you all be so sure?”

“Because something is coming from the right,” Grover said.

“Something big,” Tyson agreed. “In a hurry.”

“And it smells terrible,” Percy finished.

“Left then,” she decided. Together, they plunged into the dark corridor.

The good news: the left tunnel was straight with no side exits, twists, or turns. The bad news: it was a dead end. After sprinting a hundred yards, they ran into an enormous boulder that completely blocked their path. Behind them, the sounds of dragging footsteps and heavy breathing echoed down the corridor.

Something—definitely not human—was getting ever closer.

“Tyson,” Percy said, “can you—”

“Yes!” He slammed his shoulder against the rock so hard the whole tunnel shook. Dust trickled from the stone ceiling.

“Hurry!” Grover said. “Don’t bring the roof down, but hurry!”

The boulder finally gave way with a horrible grinding noise. Tyson pushed it into a small room and they dashed through behind it.

“Close the entrance!” Annabeth said.

They all got on the other side of the boulder and pushed. Whatever was chasing them wailed in frustration as they heaved the rock back into place and sealed the corridor.

“We trapped it,” Percy said. He looked around and grimly added, “and we trapped ourselves.”

They were in a twenty-foot-square cement room, and the opposite wall was covered with metal bars. They’d tunneled straight into a cell.

“What in the…” Annabeth tugged on the bars. They didn’t budge. Through the bars they could see rows of cells in a ring around a dark courtyard—at least three stories of metal doors and metal catwalks.

“Do you hear that?” Grover said. “Listen.”

Somewhere above them, deep sobbing echoed through the building. There was another sound, too—a raspy voice muttering something Percy couldn’t make out. The words were strange, like rocks in a tumbler.

“What’s that language?” He whispered. “It sounds…old.”

Tyson’s eye widened. “Can’t be.”

“What?” Percy asked.

He grabbed two bars on their cell door and bent them wide enough for even a Cyclops to slip through.

“Wait!” Grover called.

But Tyson didn’t wait. They ran after him. The prison was dark, only a few dim fluorescent lights flickering above.

“I know this place,” Annabeth told Percy. “This is Alcatraz.”

“The island near San Francisco?”

What was up with them and the west coast?

She nodded. “My school took a field trip here. It’s like a museum.”

“Freeze,” Grover warned.

And Percy was hit with a smell that almost had him gagging.

Grover grabbed Tyson’s arm and pulled him back with all his strength. “Stop, Tyson!” He whispered. “Can’t you see it?”

Percy looked to where he was pointing, and his stomach did a somersault. On the second floor balcony, across the courtyard, was a terrible monster.

It was sort of like a centaur, with a woman’s body from the waist up. But instead of a horse’s lower body, it had the body of a dragon—at least twenty feet long, black and scaly with enormous claws and a barbed tail. Her legs looked like they were tangled in vines, but upon looking closer, Percy realised that they were sprouting snakes, hundreds of vipers darting around, constantly looking for something to bite. The woman’s hair was also made of snakes, like Medusa’s.

Weirdest of all, around her waist, where the woman part met the dragon part, her skin bubbled and morphed, occasionally producing the head of animals—a vicious wolf, a bear, a lion, as if she were wearing a belt of ever-changing creatures.

The air immediately around her felt heavy. She was something half formed, a monster so old it was from the beginning of time, before shapes had been fully defined.

“It’s her,” Tyson whimpered.

“Get down!” Grover said.

They crouched in the shadows, but the monster wasn’t paying them any attention. It seemed to be talking to someone inside a cell on the second floor. That’s where the sobbing was coming from. The dragon woman said something in her weird rumbling language.

“What’s she saying?” Percy muttered. “A tongue that old…”

“The tongue of the old times.” Tyson shivered. “What Mother Earth spoke to Titans and…her other children. Before the gods.”

“You understand it?” Percy asked. “Can you translate?”

Tyson closed his eye and began to speak in a horrible, raspy woman’s voice. “You will work for the master or suffer.”

Annabeth shuddered. “I hate it when he does that.”

“I will not serve,” Tyson said in a deep, wounded voice.

He switched to the monster’s voice: “Then I shall enjoy your pain, Briares.” Tyson faltered when he said that name. He let out a strangled gulp. Then he continued in the monster’s voice. “If you thought your first imprisonment was unbearable, you have yet to feel true torment. Think on this until I return.”

The dragon lady tromped toward the stairwell, vipers hissing around her legs like grass skirts. She spread wings—huge bat wings she kept folded against her dragon back. She leaped off the catwalk and soared across the courtyard. They crouched lower in the shadows. A hot sulfurous wind blasted in their faces as the monster flew over. Then she disappeared around the corner.

“H-h-horrible,” Grover said. “I’ve never smelled any monster that strong.”

“Cyclopes’ worst nightmare,” Tyson murmured. His voice went even lower, “Kampê.”

Percy shuddered as the name washed over him.

Tyson swallowed. “Every Cyclops knows about her. Stories about her scare us when we’re babies. She was our jailer in the bad years.”

Annabeth nodded. “I remember now. When the Titans ruled, they imprisoned Gaia and Ouranos’ earlier children—the Cyclopes and the Hekatonkheires.”

“The Hundred-Handed Ones,” Percy said. “The elder brothers of the Cyclopes.”

“Very powerful,” Tyson said. “Wonderful! As tall as the sky. So strong they could break mountains!”

“Kampê was the jailer,” Tyson continued. “She worked for the Titan-Lord. She kept our brothers locked up in Tartarus, tortured them always, until Zeus came. He killed Kampê and freed Cyclops and Hundred-Handed Ones to help fight against the Titans in the big war.”

“And now she’s back,” Percy said grimly.

Destroy with a hero’s final breath, Annabeth’s prophecy had said. Percy wondered for a moment if it was possible for two prophecies to conflict.

Then again…

“Bad,” Tyson summed up.

“So in that cell…Briares. We need to get him out.”

Tyson perked up at the thought.

“I guess we should check it out, at least,” Annabeth said, “before Kampê comes back.”

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

As they approached the cell, the weeping got louder. When Percy first saw the being inside, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

The being had no hidden form for Percy to see under. He was human-size and his skin was very pale, the colour of milk. He wore a loincloth. His feet seemed too big for his body, with cracked dirty toenails, eight toes on each foot. But the top half of his body was weird. His chest sprouted more arms than Percy could count, in rows, all around his body. The arms looked like normal arms, but there were so many of them, all tangled together. Several of his hands were covering his face as he sobbed.

He smelled like something old which had only recently been unburied. Underneath it was the smell of the sea and a forge.

Tyson fell to his knees at the cell bars.

“Briares!” He called.

The sobbing stopped.

“Great Hundred-Handed One!” Tyson said. “Help us!”

Briares looked up. His face was long and sad, with a crooked nose and bad teeth. He had deep brown eyes—completely brown with no whites or black pupils, like they were formed out of clay.

“Run while you can, Cyclops,” Briares said miserably. “I cannot even help myself.”

“You are a Hundred-Handed One!” Tyson insisted. “You can do anything!”

Briares wiped his nose with five or six hands. Several others were fidgeting with little pieces of metal and wood from a broken bed. It was amazing to watch. The hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They built a toy boat out of wood, then disassembled it just as fast. Other hands were scratching at the cement floor for no apparent reason. Others were playing rock, paper, scissors. A few others were making ducky and doggie shadow puppets against the wall.

“I cannot,” Briares moaned. “Kampê is back! The Titans will rise and throw us back into Tartarus.”

“Put on your brave face!” Tyson said.

Immediately Briares’s face morphed into something else. Same brown eyes, but his features changed. He had an upturned nose, arched eyebrows, and a weird smile, like he was trying to act brave. But then his face turned back to what it had been before.

“No good,” he said. “My scared face keeps coming back.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Percy said. “You can be scared and brave at the same time.”

Briares paused, several of his hands ceasing their movement as his eyes turned to Percy.

“You,” he said shakily, and then cleared his voice. It was like listening to a rock slide. “You smell like the sea.”

“I am of the sea,” Percy confirmed. “I am the Son of Poseidon.”

“Oh,” Briares moaned, “oh you poor child. Not even he can help us here.” He covered his face again.

“Guys,” Grover interrupted. “We have to get out of here. Kampê will be back. She’ll sense us sooner or later.”

“Break the bars, Tyson,” Annabeth said. “He’s right, we need to move.”

Tyson’s smile melted slowly.

“I will break the bars,” he repeated. He grabbed the cell door and ripped it off its hinges like it was made of wet clay.

“Come on, Briares,” Annabeth said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She held out her hand. For a second, Briares’s face morphed into a hopeful expression. Several of his arms reached out, but twice as many slapped them away.

“I cannot,” he said. “She will punish me.”

“It’s all right,” Annabeth promised. “You fought the Titans before, and you won, remember?”

“I remember the war.” Briares’s face morphed again—furrowed brows and a pouting mouth like he was brooding. “Lightning shook the world. We threw many rocks. The Titans and the monsters almost won. Now they are getting strong again. Kampê said so.”

“Kampê will do anything to keep you here,” Percy said. “You know that.”

Briares didn’t move.

They didn’t have much time left. Already, Percy could smell that foul odor Kampê gave off, growing stronger.

But Percy couldn’t leave him here. Tyson would cry for weeks. It was wrong to do.

“One game of rock, paper, scissors,” Percy blurted out. “If I win, you come with us. If I lose, we’ll leave you alone.”

Annabeth looked at Percy like he was crazy.

Briares’s face morphed to doubtful. “I always win rock, paper, scissors.”

“You’ve never played against me,” Percy challenged. He pounded his fist in his palm three times.

Briares did the same with all one hundred hands, which sounded like an army marching three steps forward. He came up with multiple sets of each of the three signs.

“I told you,” he said sadly. “I always—” His face morphed into confusion. “What is that you made?”

Oh, Percy was so going to laugh about this later.

“A gun,” he told him cheerfully, showing Briares his finger gun. It was a trick Paul had shown him. “A gun beats anything.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I didn’t say anything about fair,” Percy pointed out. “Kampê’s not going to be fair if we hang around. Besides, you wanted me to win. Didn’t you hear it in your voice? Your brave face is still in there, Briares.”

Briares sniffled. He slowly rose to his feet and followed them out of the cell.

“Quickly now,” Percy urged them. “Her smell is getting closer.”

His friends needed no prompting. They took off down the catwalk.

Behind them, the sound of wings grew closer.

They scrambled down the stairs, through a corridor, and past a guard’s station—out into another block of prison cells.

A roar of fury echoed down the halls. Kampê had returned.

“Left,” Annabeth said. “I remember this from the tour.”

There was daylight ahead.

Except—

Percy planted his feet.

“Do you—!”

The wall in front of him shifted.

His friends were already on the other side. Annabeth turned just in time to watch Percy get separated.

“Perc—!”

The wall closed. The mark of Daedalus’ gleamed down at him innocently, high above him, revealing it was yet another part of the maze.

Had they ever truly left it?

Percy cursed. He took off down another corridor, following the smell of freshwater and something old. Despite the watery smell, the prison grew dryer and dryer, to the point where he had to pause for moments to drink some water before continuing on. Windows became non-existent, the only light which remained was sorry little torches on the wall. Even they seemed to be weeping.

He coughed, turned another corner, and came to a deadend with only one cell.

“Hello?” He rasped, and then cleared his throat to try again. “Hello?”

It was quiet; Percy could barely make out the frame of someone. Whether they were alive…

Something in the cell went clang, like metal hitting the floor.

He moved closer, and peered in. A small bowl rolled to a stop in the middle of the cage, having hit one of the bars.

On the floor in the back, curled up, was a small woman. She had pushed herself up on trembling arms, and was now looking at him, her eyes wide and pleading.

She was familiar.

Without hesitation, he uncapped Riptide and slashed through the bars. The moment he could get through, he rushed to her side.

She was even smaller up close. Not by height, but by sheer lack of muscle and fat, like she’d been starved for centuries. Her cheeks were gaunt, her skin, what little he could make out, was unnaturally pale. She was wearing a faded chiton, barely being held together.

She had small wings attached to her head like horns, but the feathers were matted and dirty, hanging limply in her just as stringy dirty black hair. Her eyes were the blue of a freshwater stream; if she wasn’t so dehydrated, Percy was sure they would be sheening over with tears.

As it was, she made a low, choking sound. He crouched as close to her as he dared, not wanting to jar her. She was too weak to even flinch; the form he saw underneath, a form made of water, was nearly dried out.

She was fading.

“Shhh,” he said. He uncapped his bottle and gently poured water over her. Dirt and grime was crusted onto her skin in layers. The small stream barely made a dent in it, but it revealed bruises and cuts not yet healed and leaking ichor.

She was laying in it, he realised, laying in her own pool of ichor, too weak to move.

The water seemed to give her life, if only for a moment; she gasped in relief, closing her eyes.

How long she’d been down there, Percy didn’t want to know.

“Can you move?” He asked. “We need to get you out of here.”

Her eyes creaked open. She tried to push herself up, but her arms gave out.

Percy frowned. He recapped his bottle, murmuring in comfort when panic filled her eyes, and shifted to dig through his bag. He pulled out the ambrosia and nectar he had, and carefully tried to feed her them.

She turned her head away after the first bite of an ambrosia square. It barely did anything.

“Please,” Percy tried with worry. “You have to eat more than that.”

But she shook her head.

He put them away, and shifted to his feet. His own eyes were starting to water over.

She looked so…defeated. She looked like she expected him to leave her.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, “I’m so sorry.”

He grabbed under her arms, and pulled her up. He shifted her so one arm was thrown over his shoulder so he could hold it, and he wrapped his other around her waist.

The woman choked and gasped. Her shoulders started shuddering like she was crying. She made an awful, low keen.

Percy swallowed the rock in his throat, and carefully started limping out of the cage, back down the way he had come.

They made it halfway down the first hall before she seemed to find some strength. She put her feet down fully, taking as much of her weight as she could. It wasn’t a lot, but Percy would take anything that told him she was going to survive this.

“W-why?” The woman croaked. Her voice was raw.

He was quiet for a moment. The halls around them were shifting again.

Almost like the Labyrinth was aiding them.

“Because we’re family,” he finally answered, lips set in a stubborn line. “Someone once told me that sometimes all you have is family. You can’t abandon them, no matter what, because in the end they’re all you have.”

“I don’t know who you are,” Percy continued. “I can guess, but we’ve never met. I don’t know whether you are friend or foe, but I will not leave you here to rot away from the sea.”

Tears finally filled in her eyes, a pearly froth which trailed down her face.

Ahead of them, daylight shone through a doorway. Outside, there was faint screaming. People were rushing back and forth. Percy could see their shadows.

She gasped in relief when they stepped out and tilted her head to the sky.

The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew.

The tourists that had been around were scrambling. There was a giant hole in the wall where the others had come out.

Just barely, Percy could hear the flapping of wings and something roaring.

He headed towards it.

“Annabeth!” He called. “Grover! Tyson!”

Annabeth and Grover had their daggers drawn; Tyson was swinging around a light pole. Kampê hissed at them in fury.

Briares was huddling down, covering his face.

He was the first to see Percy.

His eyes widened. He sprang into movement and scrambled to Percy’s side, hands fluttering in worry as he got close, stuttering in a language so old Percy’s head started spinning.

The woman answered clunkily, the language thick on her tongue.

“Take her,” Percy said. “Be careful, she’s severely injured.”

Briares did as told without arguing. If Percy had thought she’d looked small in that cage, she looked downright fragile in the Hekatonkheires’ one hundred hands. He was incredibly gentle though, taking care to not press into any injuries.

“Go,” Percy told him. “Leave this to me.”

He moved towards the others.

“And Briares,” Percy called behind him. He glanced back and saw the Hekatonkheires’ head shoot up. The woman peered over his shoulder; her lips were moving like she was chanting prayers. “Swear to me…that when I win you will rejoin the fight. Swear to me that when Kampê falls, you will not run away.”

He didn't know that his eyes were glowing a deep dark blue, swirling black like the sea and the sky reflected above.

“I swear it,” Briares whispered, “I swear on the River Styx to rejoin the fight if you beat Kampê.”

The water shook, darkening into something familiar. Black spilled into blue. Dark eyes peered out of the waves.

“Child,” the woman croaked in warning, but Percy turned his attention to the fight. Her words followed him as she returned to her chanting: “A blessing, a blessing, a blessing.”

“Get her to safety,” he said, and Briares listened. The smell of forge and sea and freshwater and something older retreated.

“Percy!” Annabeth cried, “you can’t!”

“This has to be,” he said firmly. “One of us is going to come out of this fight alive…and I’m going to ensure it’s me.”

Tyson looked at him closely. “Good luck,” he finally said. “Be safe, brother Prince. Watch out for her poison.”

“You’re crazy,” Grover informed him. “You got this.”

Percy bared his teeth in a grin, and fully turned his attention to the monster.

It was funny, how similar this moment was to one before.

Another beach, another battle, another deal struck.

Another game to play.

He wondered if the gods were watching again (he had a feeling they were). The wind was full of salt and asphodels, bay leaves and bear, wine and strawberries. He even sensed a hint of rose and Cinnamon Fire jolly ranchers.

With the sun glinting down at him in encouragement, the sea at his side whispering caution, and the wind curling around his back in support, Percy uncapped Riptide and set his chin.

Kampê roared at him, slashing her two swords—long bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.

Poison.

Her voice slithered inside his head.

“You think you can beat me, Sea Child?” She hissed. “I am older than you know; I existed in a time you cannot even conceive.”

“I don’t care,” Percy said. “You could be Lady Khaos herself. You hurt my family. Did you think that would go unpunished?”

The air twinged with something he had only ever encountered in himself and a few others.

She snapped her jaw at him, and lunged.

Percy darted to the side. She was fast, but she wasn’t trying very hard.

Like Luke had, like Kronos had, like Atlas had, she was underestimating him.

Just as he did them, he was going to make her regret it.

The poison on her scimitars would be useful. He formed a plan, dancing around her as he gathered his thoughts.

Anytime a viper would dart out, he would cut it down, leaving her screaming. She clawed at him angrily. Sometimes, she would dart into the air, but Percy would duck and hide within the prison doorways, and she’d be forced back to the ground.

He could not do this forever, but he didn’t need to.

She slashed wildly at him, growing angrier and angrier with every near miss. Percy tugged on the water from the bay, swirling it around them.

Bigger and bigger it became, darkened with brine and oaths.

She lunged for him again, but he did not move back. This time, he darted forward towards her chest. He closed his fist and the water shot towards them, encompassing them.

At the same time, he tugged on the poison he could feel thrumming in her swords, calling it to him, calling it to the water. His gut flip-flopped and then dropped.

Dry.

The poison mixed in. The smell of tainted water, the very thought of it, made him want to close his eyes and gag. He forced the water down onto Kampê’s skin, and she screamed as her own poison turned against her. Her skin bubbled and sizzled as it burned. Around her waist, animal faces snapped towards him; a wolf’s teeth, a bear’s maw. Vipers struck forward and clamped down on his arms, burrowing their teeth into his skin, but still he did not pull back.

All it did was give him more poison.

He called on the anger he had felt when Luke betrayed him, when Zoë died, when he had found that goddess in that cell.

“Choke her,” he ordered.

And it did.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

“That was crazy!” was the first thing Percy heard upon gaining consciousness.

Annabeth loomed over him, looking a mixture of furious, scared, and ecstatic.

“Good to see you too, Annie,” he muttered.

“You’re absolutely crazy,” she repeated, but helped him sit up. “Just—mental. What did you do, Percy? There was just so much water and darkness, and then Kampê was screaming. Then…then it was just you. She was gone. You killed her.”

“Told you,” he murmured, “someone was going to die and it wasn’t going to be me.”

He flexed his hands, examining the healed skin. The viper bites were gone, as well as the few bumps and bruises he’d gotten. He turned his attention to the room.

They were sitting in the same cell they had come out of, but the back wall was completely smooth—no sign of a boulder or anything.

Tyson was on his other side, a severe frown on his face. Grover was looking at him through squinted eyes.

“Well,” Percy cleared his throat, “that went well.”

“Percy.” All three of them scolded.

He ducked his head. “Yeah, sorry,” he murmured. He looked around again. “Where did Briares and the goddess go?”

“Back into the sea,” Annabeth said slowly. “Briares swore an oath; he told us he would go to Atlantis and rejoin the fight. The woman went with him, though…”

Grover shuddered.

“The water took her,” Tyson said simply, “something older came out to meet them, and took her with him. He helped heal you before they left.”

“So it was her,” Percy thought aloud. “That woman…she must’ve been Tethys, Oceanus’ wife. She was missing…or I guess it’d be better to say that she was kidnapped.”

He could smell crabs. It looked over him as if searching for injuries, and turned its attention away when it saw he was okay.

“But now you’ve found her.” Annabeth looked deep in thought. “Maybe,” she said, recalling what he’d told her about the current ocean on-goings, “maybe this will get Oceanus to change sides.”

“Or at least declare neutrality,” Percy added.

Annabeth nodded. “Do you think you can stand?”

“Yes.”

They helped him up.

“Into the maze we go?” He asked.

Grover found the mark of Daedalus, a tiny scratch, on the wall. It grinded open, revealing the darkness of the Labyrinth.

They all made a face at it, but obediently climbed in.

This time, they stopped walking in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one big pit, ringed by a slippery stone walkway. Around them, on all four walls, water tumbled from huge pipes. The water spilled down into the pit, and even when Percy shined a light, he couldn’t see the bottom.

He stayed as far from the edge as he could get; whatever was down there, it smelled bad.

“Across,” Annabeth said.

They slowly made their way across.

“Does anyone…hear that?”

It was grinding, like something was starting to shift—

“Watch out!” Annabeth cried, and the floor—

Disappeared.

Their screams echoed off the walls as they tumbled from the walkway, down into the darkness below.

Percy cursed. He called for the water, and it whipped out at them, flinging them towards the walls. He heard a few cries of surprise, and then he hit a stone balcony and rolled.

The floor tilted downward abruptly, and he was suddenly sliding through dark, musty tunnels, until—

He dropped down somewhere old, and landed with a hard crash! onto a cold stone floor.

His harsh breathing filled the room, and he pushed himself up on bruised hands and knees.

It was dark and cold—there were no lanterns or windows here—and the air was old, nearly suffocating.

He clicked on his flashlight, the small light nearly swallowed by the darkness as it landed on the walls.

Like the room with the fountain, there were mosaics, but they were rotting and falling apart. The people on them were unidentifiable.

Glass littered the floor, covered in dust and crumbling.

There were large stone blocks, stands upon which artifacts must have once sat. Now they were empty and lifeless, except…

Except for the one at the far end of the room.

It was such an unassuming thing, yet it gleamed and glittered amongst the decay.

A pithos, a large stone jar three feet high and a foot wide, with a ceramic lid set on top and fastened with a leather harness. It had two thin handles, and was glazed with black-and-white geometrical designs.

He approached it cautiously.

It, whatever was inside it, whispered to him. A soft, lovely voice which said, Hello, hello! Look at you! Hello! Hi!

The jar itself crooned, its voice darker and crueler, but enticing: You should open this. Open this! Don’t you want to? You know you do, you know you—

And the soft voice argued against it: Oh, you must not! You cannot! Oh, hello! Hi! Hello! You must go—

He stepped back.

Behind the pithos, up on the wall, one intact mosaic gleamed down at him. He had not noticed it in the gloom, but up close, he could make out the image perfectly.

It was a beautiful woman, with long wavy dark hair, blue eyes, and red lips. She wore a long and flowing purple dress and a white pearl necklace.

She regarded him kindly, her expression open and curious. There was a playful gleam in her eye.

Despite being stone, she looked so very alive.

“It is not time for you yet,” Percy murmured.

He went to take another step back, and the floor abruptly disappeared from under him.

He yelped, and was swallowed by the darkness once more.

Above him, behind him, two voices sang:

Soon, soon! A choice to be made!

Oh, goodbye! Goodbye! You must not ever return!

A giggle echoed over them, and then they were all gone and he was alone once more.

The stone curled and twisted like the worst slide in the world, changing from rock to marble to dirt over and over again. He tumbled left and right and at one point was sure he’d just flipped upside down and then—

There was light.

He landed on a plush floor with an Oof!

“My my,” someone said, voice high in amusem*nt, “I thought I’d gotten that fixed.”

Percy groaned, “Apparently not.”

Another voice laughed softly.

Percy sat up without opening his eyes.

“Ow,” he said.

“That did look quite rough,” the woman at the table agreed.

Percy opened his eyes.

The woman at the table smiled at him cheerfully, smelling of soft flowers. Another woman, standing at the little island by the kitchen, smirked, and she smelled like a collection of herbs and a familiar sickly-sweet island.

“Helen of Sparta?” He asked in confusion. “Medea?”

The woman at the table beamed. She had blonde hair thrown up in a bun, and soft and rounded features that made her look sleepy, but beautiful. She wore a business suit, like she was getting ready to go to an office job. “How wonderful!” She said, her blue eyes sparkling, “very rarely does anyone address me so.”

“I did not expect to get recognised,” the woman by the counter agreed. Her black curly hair was tied up with a patterned green bandana. Her features were sharp and she had dark eyes, but she was no less beautiful. She wore loose black pants and a tight red tank-top.

“Flashcards,” Percy answered bluntly. He squinted as he took in the room.

It was homely, filled with pictures and small treasures and decorated with woven rugs and plants.

He’d landed on a pile of pillows.

“My mom made me flashcards…and I’m starting to think she got a little help with them.”

He looked at the two women suspiciously as he crawled off the pile. “You smell familiar,” he said, addressing Medea. “You’re not going to turn me into a guinea pig, are you?”

“I don’t quite like guinea pigs,” Helen said.

“Rodents,” Medea agreed, “I prefer snakes.”

He patted himself off and looked up at where he’d fallen. “Sorry about the new hole,” he said, taking in said hole in the ceiling.

It rumbled close, and the ceiling smoothed out as if Percy had never fallen through it to begin with.

“Or not,” he added.

“I do hate that thing,” Medea grumbled, “does what it pleases. You think you’ve warded against it and it opens another door somehow.”

“It does seem to enjoy defying expectation,” Percy agreed. “I think I can appreciate that. Do you know how I can get back in? My friends are in there…”

Both women stared at him like he was nuts.

Before either could answer, the door opened. A woman and a girl walked in, their arms loaded down with groceries. The girl had brown hair thrown up into a braided bun, pale skin, and warm brown eyes. There was a laurel wreath in her hair and she smelled like blood and herbs. Like Artemis.

The woman…

Green eyes locked onto him.

Circe’s hair puffed up.

“YOU!” She screeched.

Their groceries hit the floor.

Percy dove behind Helen.

“Oh dear,” Helen said. “Hello, Circe.”

“Don’t you ‘Hello, Circe,’ me!” She pointed one long and clawed finger at Percy. “What is that creature doing here?!”

“Now now,” Medea said. She tugged Percy out from behind Helen and picked some debris from his hair. “That’s quite rude. He’s been nothing but sweet.”

“Sweet.” Circe hissed out the word. “He let loose those disgusting pirates!”

“I got them off your island!” He protested. “And you were trying to convince my friend that she shouldn’t be an architect! And turn me into a guinea pig!”

“Pah!” Circe said, just as she had done three years before. “There are better things to be! You would’ve made a fine guinea pig!”

“Circe,” the younger girl who had come in with her scolded. “What happened to ‘girls can be anything they put their mind to’?”

“They can do that and be a sorceress,” Circe defended. “That has nothing to do with him being a guinea pig.”

“My mom would be very angry if I was turned into a guinea pig,” Percy challenged. “And my step-mom, and my dad.”

“And just about the whole ocean,” the girl that had come in with Circe laughed. Her eyes told him that she was older than she looked. “And some of Olympus, and…well, just look at his circlet, Circe.”

Circe did, and her sneer melted off her face. She stared, wide-eyed, at Percy’s head.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she said dumbly. “You’ve been claimed by the River herself?”

“Is she okay?” Percy whispered to Helen.

They watched Circe seemingly reboot on the spot.

“I think I need to lay down,” Circe finally said, her voice faint.

“Good idea,” the unknown girl said cheerfully. “It’s been lovely to meet you, Percy, you’ve caught quite a few people’s attention.”

“The River,” Circe murmured, “the River herself claimed the boy.”

The girl nodded. She led Circe down the hall. “Yes, Circe, the River herself, come now…”

Faintly, he could make out Circe’s words: “‘Genia, he’s been claimed by the River…”

Percy watched them go. He turned to the two others. “Did I just break her?” Percy asked.

Medea laughed gleefully.

“I guess we should help you on,” Helen sighed. “I must get to work soon; Hermes appreciates punctuality.”

“You work for Hermes?” Percy asked curiously.

“Customer service,” she answered cheerfully. She turned to the other woman. “Medea…”

“Yes, yes.” Medea waved her hand. “I’ve got him; get to work.”

Percy waved her goodbye.

Medea stared down at him; he stared up at her. Her bandana slithered around her head, and revealed itself to not be a bandana at all. A snake hissed at him in greeting.

“Are you all gods?” He asked.

She snorted. “No,” she told him. “Simply immortal.”

“There’s a difference?”

He followed her out the door, down the four steps, and onto a busy Olympian street. It was one of the side streets from the square. He glanced back at the building.

It was a cute blue townhouse with a small front garden.

“Your home is cute,” he commented, “I like the blue.”

Percy caught up to her as she made her way down the street.

“I’m not lifting you into our ceiling,” she told him. “So we’ll have to find another entrance. There should be one…”

She turned into an alleyway.

Percy, without hesitation, followed her.

“I’m going to be very disappointed in you if this is where you kill me,” he informed her.

Her laughter echoed off the walls.

“I’ve no reason,” she said. “Now in you go. I would wish you luck, but I would not subject you to her attention in case she chooses to withhold it.”

He nodded. “Probably for the best.”

The mark of Daedalus glowed under her finger. The wall split open.

“Bye!” He told her.

And the door sealed closed.

A small torch on the wall lit up, then another one, then another.

Percy followed them down the hall, and entered the room he’d initially fallen from.

“Percy!”

Grover nearly crashed into him. Annabeth followed, and Tyson bowled them all over.

“Hi,” Percy managed. “That was fun.”

“Not fun!” Tyson scolded. “Thought you were gone!”

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I tumbled into a temple, and then into Medea’s living room.”

“Medea?” Annabeth and Grover echoed.

He nodded. “She was pretty nice, and so was Helen.”

“Helen?” Annabeth looked stunned.

“You always end up in the weirdest situations,” Grover bleated.

Percy stared at him incredulously. “Two words,” he emphasized: “Wedding. Dress.”

Grover playfully shoved him as he snickered. Even Tyson chuckled.

“Indeed,” Annabeth said lightly, though she was smirking. “Come on. I don’t need Percy’s nose to tell me that whatever down there isn’t good. Let’s find a better place to camp for the night.”

They settled in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it could’ve been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fastened to the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, and Annabeth decided this was a good sign.

“We must be close to Daedalus’s workshop,” she said. “Get some rest, everybody. We’ll keep going in the morning.”

“How do we know when it’s morning?” Grover asked.

“Just rest,” she insisted.

Grover didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled a heap of straw out of his pack, ate some of it, made a pillow out of the rest, and was snoring in no time. Tyson took longer getting to sleep. He tinkered with some metal scraps from his building kit for a while, but whatever he kept making, he wasn’t happy with it. He kept disassembling the pieces.

“Hey,” Percy nudged his leg with his foot. “It’s going to be alright.”

Tyson blinked. He gave Percy a small smile. “It will be,” he agreed. “Brother-Prince said so.”

Percy frowned at him, and Tyson laughed softly. He closed his eye. The metal pieces fell out of his hand, still unassembled, and Tyson began to snore.

He tried to fall asleep, but couldn’t. Kampê, gone as she was, had frightened him.

Maybe he had frightened himself.

He rolled to face Annabeth. She was sitting against a wall, keeping watch.

“You should sleep,” she said.

“Can’t. You doing all right?”

“Sure. First day leading the quest. Just great.”

“We’ll get there,” Percy said. “We’ll find the workshop before Luke does.”

She brushed her hair out of her face. She was covered in dirt like all of them. For a moment, looking at her, Percy saw a smaller Annabeth, a younger one. One who had gone wandering around the country with Thalia and Luke. The one who had saved them from an evil Cyclops when she was only seven. Even scared, Percy knew she had a lot of guts.

“I just wish the quest was logical,” she complained. “I mean, we’re travelling but we have no idea where we’ll end up. How can you walk from New York to California in a day?”

“Space isn’t the same in the maze.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…” She looked at him hesitantly. “Percy, I was kidding myself. All that planning and reading. I don’t have a clue where we’re going.”

“You’re doing great. Besides, we never know what we’re doing. We just stumble into things and it always works out.”

She snorted. “I think that’s just you, Percy.”

He shrugged.

They were quiet.

“I think Nico is down here somewhere,” Percy said. “I’ve been seeing visions of him. He shouldn’t be down here, but he is. I think he’s being tricked by someone.”

Annabeth was quiet for a long time. Percy let her think; she’d only met Nico a handful of times. The bond Percy had with his siblings made her uncomfortable; they didn’t know why they were connected, they just knew it was right.

“Percy, I hope you’re wrong. The things down here, the people…well, whoever he’s being tricked by…they’re probably not good.”

She stared at the flashlight beam, casting a dim circle on the stone wall. Percy had a feeling she was thinking about her prophecy. He’d never seen her look more tired.

“How about I take first watch?” He said. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Annabeth looked like she wanted to protest, but she just nodded, slumped onto her bedroll, and closed her eyes.

When it was his turn to sleep, he dreamed he was back in the Labyrinth prison.

It looked more like a workshop now. Tables were littered with measuring instruments. A forge burned red hot in the corner. The boy he’d seen in the last dream was stoking the bellows, except he was taller now, almost Percy’s age. The blue strips Percy had ripped from his shirt were wrapped around the boy’s forearm. They should’ve been old and worn by now, but they weren’t.

They were the same vibrant blue they had been when Percy had first used them.

A weird funnel device was attached to the forge’s chimney, trapping the smoke and heat and channeling it through a pipe into the floor, next to a big bronze manhole cover.

It was daytime. The sky above was blue, but the walls of the maze cast deep shadows across the workshop. After being in the tunnels so long, it was weird that part of the Labyrinth could be open to the sky. Somehow, that made the maze seem like an even crueler place.

The old man looked sickly. He was terribly thin, his hands raw and red from working. White hair covered his eyes, and his tunic was smudged with grease. He was bent over a table, working on some kind of long metal patchwork—like a swath of chain mail. He picked up a delicate curl of bronze and fitted it into place.

“Done,” he announced. “It’s done.”

He picked up his project. It was so beautiful, Percy’s heart leaped in both awe and shock—metal wings constructed from thousands of interlocking bronze feathers. There were two sets. One still lay on the table. Daedalus stretched the frame, and the wings expanded to twenty feet.

They would fly; they would fly because they were meant to fly. They would fly and then oh—

One of them would fall.

The craftsmanship was amazing. Metal feathers caught the light and flashed thirty different shades of gold.

The boy looked up from the bellows and met Percy’s eyes.

He could speak no warning, but the boy smiled like he already knew. His soft grey eyes flashed an unnatural shade of green.

Percy’s throat closed.

Another child walking to their doom, walking towards their father who, unknowingly or knowingly, held the key to their demise.

Why was it always the child?

The boy went over to see. He grinned, despite the fact that he was grimy and sweaty. “Father, you’re a genius!”

The old man smiled. “Tell me something I don’t know, Icarus. Now hurry. It will take at least an hour to attach them. Come.”

“You first,” Icarus said.

The old man protested, but Icarus insisted. “You made them, Father. You should get the honour of wearing them first.”

The boy attached a leather harness to his father’s chest, like climbing gear, with straps that ran from his shoulders to his wrists. Then he began fastening on the wings, using a metal canister that looked like an enormous hot-glue gun.

“The wax compound should hold for several hours,” Daedalus said nervously as his son worked. “But we must let it set first. And we would do well to avoid flying too high or too low. The sea would wet the wax seals—”

“And the sun’s heat would loosen them,” the boy finished. “Yes, Father. We’ve been through this a million times.”

“One cannot be too careful.”

“I have complete faith in your inventions, Father. No one has ever been as smart as you.”

The old man’s eyes shone. It was obvious he loved his son more than anything in the world. “Now I will do your wings, and give mine a chance to set properly. Come!”

It was slow going. The old man’s hands fumbled with the straps. He had a hard time keeping the wings in position while he sealed them. His own metal wings seemed to weigh him down, getting in his way while he tried to work.”

Percy raised his hand, guiding small amounts of water droplets to help hold the man’s wings up. He could tell the moment it helped; the old man’s shoulders dipped slightly.

Icarus glanced at him in thanks. Without the wings holding him back, the old man moved slightly faster. He moved onto the hot wax next, carefully sealing the wings to the straps.

“Done!” He sighed in relief. “Oh, I am getting much too old and slow.”

“You are just fine, Father,” Icarus assured. “The guards are not due for—”

BOOM!

“Now,” Icarus finished.

“Hurry,” Daedalus urged.

Icarus met Percy’s eyes once more; Percy shook his head.

Please.

But Icarus only smiled.

BOOM!

They pried open the manhole cover, and a column of hot air blasted out of the ground.

CRASH!

The doors splintered and the head of a bronze battering ram emerged through the breach. Axes cleared the debris, but the armed guards and king who entered were too late.

Icarus and Daedalus were gone, carried by the updraft of the uncovered manhole.

Percy watched them go. They wheeled above the maze and the king’s palace, then zoomed across the city of Knossos and out past the rocky shores of Crete.

Icarus’ laughter echoed back. “Free, Father! You did it!”

The boy spread his wings to their full limit and soured away on the wind.

Percy could hear singing, or mourning.

“Wait!” Daedalus must have called. “Be careful!”

Weeping.

Icarus was already out over the open sea, heading north and delighting in their goodluck. He soared up and scared an eagle out of its flight path, then plummeted toward the sea like he was born to fly, pulling out of a nosedive at the last second. His sandals skimmed the waves.

The world watched in awe; Percy could only hurt.

“Stop that!” Daedalus must have tried again. But the wind sadly carried his voice away. His son was drunk on his own freedom.

The old man struggled to catch up, gliding clumsily after his son.

They were miles from Crete, over deep sea, when Icarus looked back. He faced his father, but Percy could feel his eyes even from the tower, that soft grey sparking green. The small flecks of gold.

The first metal feather shook loose from his wings and fluttered away.

Percy couldn’t make out his expression.

But he knew Icarus was still smiling.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Percy woke with a start, feeling like he was falling. The corridor was dark. In the constant moaning of the Labyrinth, he thought he could hear the anguished cry of Daedalus calling his son’s name as Icarus, his only joy, plummeted toward the sea, three hundred feet below.

Maybe somewhere in the maze, some dark secluded corner, it was only just happening. Maybe somewhere, it was always happening, like a clip rewinded over and over again.

Had Daedalus known? Had he suspected?

Had Athena?

“Percy?” Tyson asked softly. “Are you okay?”

He wiped his face. “Fine,” he whispered. “Just another dream.”

There was no morning in the maze, but once everyone woke up and had a fabulous breakfast of granola bars, the leftover sandwiches, and juice boxes, they kept travelling. Percy didn’t mention his dream, even as Tyson stuck close.

He kept seeing Icarus’s smile.

The old stone tunnels changed to dirt with cedar beams, like a gold mine. Annabeth started getting agitated.

“This isn’t right,” she said. “It should still be stone.”

They came to a cave where stalactites hung low from the ceiling. In the center of the dirt floor was a rectangular pit, like a grave.

Grover shivered. “It smells like the Underworld in here.”

Percy saw something glinting at the edge of the pit—a foil wrapper. He shined his flashlight into the hole and saw a half-chewed cheeseburger floating in brown carbonated muck.

“Nico,” Percy said. “He summoned the dead here.”

Tyson whimpered. “Ghosts were here. I don’t like ghosts.”

“We’ve got to find him.”

Nico was close, Percy could feel it.

He started to run.

“Percy!” Annabeth called.

He ducked into a tunnel and saw light up ahead. By the time Annabeth, Tyson, and Grover caught up with him, he was staring at daylight streaming through a set of bars above his head. They were under a steel grate made out of metal pipes. Percy could see trees and blue sky.

It smelled…a lot like cows, but it was heavily overlaid with bay leaves.

A shadow fell across the grate and a cow stared down at him. It looked like a normal fluffy cow except it was a weird colour—bright red, like a cherry.

“I didn’t know cows came in red,” Percy commented. “Hi cow.”

The cow mooed, put one hoof tentatively on the bars, then backed away.

“It’s a cattle guard,” Grover said.

“Like at a ranch?”

Grover nodded. He looked annoyed just at the sight of it.

Percy turned to Annabeth. “Hera did mention a ranch. We need to check it out.”

She hesitated. “All right. But how do we get out?”

Tyson solved that problem by hitting the cattle guard with both hands. It popped off and went flying out of sight. They heard a CLANG! and a startled Moo!

Tyson blushed.

“Sorry, cow!” He called.

Then he gave them a boost out of the tunnel.

They were on a ranch, all right. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted with oak trees and cacti and boulders. A barbed wire fence ran from the gate in either direction. Cherry-coloured cows roamed around, grazing on clumps of grass.

Tyson replaced the grate.

“Red cattle,” Annabeth said. “The cattle of the sun.”

“Holy cows?” Percy asked, delighted. “Apollo’s holy cows?”

For a moment, bay leaves curled around him in amusem*nt, and then the god’s attention was pulled elsewhere.

“But what are they doing—”

“Wait,” Grover said. “Listen.”

At first everything seemed quiet…but then Percy heard it: the distant baying of dogs. The sound and smell got louder. Then the underbrush rustled, and two dogs broke through. Except it wasn’t two dogs. It was one dog with two heads. It looked like a greyhound, long and snaky and sleek brown, but its neck ‘V’ed into two heads, both of them snapping and snarling and generally not very glad to see them.

“Bad Janus dog!” Tyson cried.

“Arf!” Grover told it, and raised a hand in greeting.

It didn’t respond to Grover’s greeting. Its master lumbered out of the woods, and Percy realised the dog was the least of their problem.

He was a huge guy with stark white hair, a straw cowboy hat, and a braided white beard—kind of like Father Time, if Father Time went redneck and got totally jacked. He was wearing jeans, a ‘Don’t Mess with Texas’ T-shirt and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off so you could see his muscles. On his right bicep was a crossed-swords tattoo. He held a wooden club about the size of a nuclear warhead, with six-inch spikes bristling at the end. He smelled like the farm, and just faintly of a boar.

There was a faint shine to his skin, like that of a sunset.

“Heel, Orthus,” he told the dog.

The dog growled at them once more, just to make his feelings clear, then circled back to his master’s feet. The man looked them up and down, keeping his club ready.

“What’ve we got here?” He asked. “Cattle rustlers?”

“Just travelers,” Annabeth said. “We’re on a quest.”

The man’s eye twitched. “Half-bloods, eh?”

“I’m Annabeth, daughter of Athena. This is Percy, son of Poseidon. Grover the satyr. Tyson the—”

“Cyclops,” the man finished. “Yes, I can see that.” He glowered at them. “I’m Eurytion, the cowherd for this here ranch. Son of Ares. You came through the Labyrinth like the other one, I reckon.”

“The other one?” Percy asked. “Was he about this tall, skinny, maybe a bit gloomy looking, asked a lot of questions, and possibly itched for murder?”

Eurytion snorted. “That sounds about right.”

“Nico,” the group said.

“That’s my little brother,” Percy said. “I’ve been looking for him.”

“We get a load of visitors from the Labyrinth,” Eurytion told him. “Not many ever leave.”

“Wow,” Percy said. “I feel extremely welcome.”

The cowherd glanced behind him like someone was watching. Then he lowered his voice. “I’m only going to say this once, demigods. Get back in the maze now. Before it’s too late.”

“We’re not leaving,” Annabeth insisted. “Not without Nico. Please.”

Eurytion grunted. “Then you leave me no choice, missy. I’ve got to take you to see the boss.”

Percy waved the cute cows goodbye.

Their Moos! followed them down a dirt path.

Every so often they’d see a pen full of red cows or even stranger animals. Once they passed a corral where the fence was coated in asbestos. Inside, a herd of fire-breathing horses milled around The hay in their feeding trough was on fire. The ground smoked around their feet, but the horses seemed tame enough. One big stallion looked at Percy and whinnied, columns of red flame billowing out his nostrils.

“Handsome horses,” Percy cooed at them as they passed.

He was almost sure he didn’t imagine them preening in response. Grover dragged him away to prevent him from getting any closer.

“What are all these animals for?” Annabeth questioned.

Eurytion scowled at the ground. “We raise animals for lots of clients. The Sun God, Diomedes, and…others.”

“Like who?”

“No more questions.”

Percy snorted at Annabeth’s face.

‘No more questions,’ her least favourite statement.

Finally, they came out of the woods. Perched on a hill above them was a big ranch house—all white stone and wood and big windows.

“It looks like a Frank Lloyd Wright!” Annabeth said.

“Don’t break the rules,” Eurytion warned as they walked up the steps to the front porch. “No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don’t make any comments about the boss’s appearance.”

Comforting.

Before any of them could question him, a new voice said, “Welcome to the Triple G Ranch.”

The man on the porch had a normal head. His face was weathered and brown from years in the sun. He had slick black hair and a black pencil moustache like villains have in old movies. He smiled at them, but the smile wasn’t friendly; more amused.

He had three bodies. He had two more chests, one to either side, connected at the shoulders, with a few inches in between. His left arm grew out of his left chest, and the same on the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits. The chests all connected into one enormous torso, with regular but very beefy legs, and he wore oversized Levis. His chests each wore a different coloured Western shirt—green, yellow, red, like a stoplight.

He smelled sour and gross and maybe a little like Medusa but her smell was far nicer.

That reminded him, it was getting time to send another card.

Eurytion gestured to the giant. “Say hello to Mr. Geryon.”

“Hello,” Percy said for the group.

Before the three-bodied man could respond, Nico came out of the glass doors onto the porch. “Geryon, I won’t wait for—”

He froze like a deer in headlights when he saw them, and then, “Percy!”

“Nico!” Percy greeted. Nico nearly bowled into him.

“Oh?” Geryon said. “And how do you know Perseus Jackson?”

“We’re brothers,” Percy answered easily.

Nico agreed.

“How did you know Percy’s name?” Annabeth asked suspiciously.

The three-bodied man winked. “I make it my business to keep informed, darlin’. Everybody pops into the ranch from time to time. Everybody needs something from ole Geryon. Now, come along, folks. I want to give you a tour of the ranch.”

Geryon led them to a trolley-train. It was painted black and white in a cowhide pattern. The driver’s car had a set of longhorns stuck to the hood, and the horn sounded like a cowbell.

Orthus jumped in the front seat next to Geryon and began barking happily in a two-part harmony. Percy and Nico sat next to each other behind him, and Annabeth, Tyson, and Grover took the middle two, leaving Eurytion the very back.

He pulled his cowboy hat over his eyes like he was going to take a nap.

“We have a huge operation!” Geryon boasted as the moo-mobile lurched forward. “Horses and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too.”

They came over a hill, and Annabeth gasped. “Hippalektryons? I thought they were extinct!”

“Horses!” Percy exclaimed with glee. Nico, nearly on top of him, snickered.

At the bottom of the hill was a fenced-in pasture with a dozen of half-horse, half-rooster animals. Their rear feet were huge yellow claws. They had feathery tails and red wings.

“Rooster ponies,” Tyson said in amazement. “Do they lay eggs?”

“Once a year!” Geryon grinned in the rearview mirror. “Very much in demand for omelets!”

Percy’s smile dropped.

“That’s horrible!” Annabeth declared. “They must be an endangered species!”

Geryon waved his hand. “Gold is gold, darlin’. And you haven’t tasted the omelets.”

“That’s not right,” Grover murmured, but Geryon just kept narrating the tour.

Percy locked eyes with the back of the middle head. Nico looked up at him.

“Murder?” He mouthed, covering his lips with his hand.

Percy nodded.

“Now, over here,” Geryon said, “we have our fire-breathing horses, which you may have seen on your way in. They’re bred for war, naturally.”

Percy barely tore his eyes away from his plotting.

“Handsome,” he agreed.

Geryon grinned slyly. “And over yonder, of course, are our prize red cows.”

Sure enough, hundreds of the cherry-coloured cattle were grazing the side of a hill.

“So many,” Grover said.

“Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see to them,” Geryon explained, “so he subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously because there’s such a demand.”

Grover hesitantly asked, “For what?”

Geryone raised an eyebrow. “Meat, of course! Armies have to eat.”

“Armies,” Percy repeated. “You kill the sacred cows of the Sun God for hamburger meat? That’s against the ancient laws.”

“Oh, don’t get so worked up. They’re just animals.”

“Just animals!” Grover exclaimed. He looked furious.

“Yes, and if the Sun God cared, I’m sure he would tell us.”

“If he knew, you mean,” Percy muttered. He glared at the monster.

“Now look over here, some of my exotic game.”

The next field was ringed in barbed wire. The whole area was crawling with giant scorpions.

Percy’s expression turned stormy.

“And over here are my prize stables! You must see them.”

Percy didn’t need to see them, because as soon as they got within three hundred yards he could smell them. Near the banks of a green river was a horse corral the size of a football field. Stables lined one side of it. About a hundred horses were milling around in the muck—in their own feces. The horses were wading through it, and the stables were just as bad.

Nico buried his face in Percy’s shoulder and gagged. His little growing horns nudged Percy’s chin.

Percy was trying not to lose the little breakfast he’d had. Behind him, his friends weren’t doing much the same—Annabeth covered her face with both of her hands, while Grover covered his nose with his shirt. Tyson pinched his nose shut and even Eurytion had stopped ‘napping’ to plug his nose.

“What is that?” Nico nearly baaed.

“My stables!” Geryon said. “Well, actually, they belong to Diomedes, but we watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren’t they lovely?”

“They’re disgusting!” Annabeth said.

“Lots of waste,” Tyson observed.

“How can you keep animals like that?” Grover cried.

“Y’all gettin’ on my nerves,” Geryon said. “These are flesh-eating horses, see? They like these conditions.”

“Plus, you’re too cheap to have them cleaned,” Eurytion mumbled.

“Quiet!” Geryon snapped. “All right, perhaps the stables are a bit challenging to clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind blows the wrong way. But so what? My clients still pay well.”

“What clients?” Percy demanded.

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people will pay for a flesh-eating horse. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your enemies. Great at birthday parties! We rent them out all the time.”

“You’re a monster,” Annabeth decided.

Geryon stopped the moo-mobile and turned to look at her. “What gave it away? Was it the three bodies?”

“You have to let these animals go,” Grover said. “It’s not right!”

“And the clients you keep talking about,” Annabeth said. “You work for the Titan-King, don’t you? You’re supplying his army with horses, food, whatever they need.”

Geryon shrugged. “I work for anyone with gold, young lady. I’m a businessman. And I sell them anything I have to offer.”

“I’ll tell you what we did to the last businessman we met,” Percy grumbled darkly. He glared as Geryon climbed out of the moo-mobile and strolled towards the stables as if enjoying the fresh air.

Except there wasn’t any. It was filled with the smell of horse muck.

Eurytion followed.

Nico squeezed Percy’s hand and then followed. “I came here for business, Geryon,” Nico said. “And you haven’t answered me.”

Percy watched him sharply, but Nico avoided his eyes.

“Mmm.” Geryon examined a cactus. His left arm reached over and scratched his middle chest. “Yes, you’ll get a deal, all right.”

“My ghost told me you could help. He said you could guide us to the soul we need.”

“I bet he did,” the rancher said. “Your ghost friend, by the way, where is he?”

Nico looked uneasy. “He can’t form in broad daylight. It’s hard for him. But he’s around somewhere.”

Geryon smiled. “I’m sure. Minos likes to disappear when things get…difficult.”

Percy frowned in distaste. “Minos? Nico…”

Nico ducked down, grumbling. “What do you mean about things getting difficult?” He asked.

The three-bodied man sighed. “Well you see, Nico—can I call you Nico?”

“I’d rather you not.”

“You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering very good money for half-bloods. Especially powerful half-bloods. And I’m sure when he learns your little secret, who you really are, he’ll pay very, very well indeed.”

Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion knocked it out of his hand. Before Percy could get up, Orthus pounced on his chest and growled, his face inches from Percy’s.

“I would stay in the car, all of you,” Geryon warned. “Or Orthys will tear Mr. Jackson’s throat out. Now, Eurytion, if you would be so kind, secure Nico.”

Percy growled. All four of Orthus’s ears flattened to the dog’s head, but he didn’t get off.

The cowherd spit in the grass. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, you fool!”

Eurytion looked bored, but he wrapped one huge arm around Nico and lifted him up like a wrestler.

“Pick up the sword, too,” Geryon said with distaste. “There’s nothing I hate worse than Stygian iron.”

Eurytion did.

“Now,” Geryon said cheerfully, “we’ve had the tour. Let’s go back to the lodge, have some lunch, and send an Iris-message to our friends in the Titan army.”

“You fiend!” Annabeth cried.

“You hurt him and I’ll slaughter you both,” Percy swore.

Geryon smiled at them. “Don’t worry. Once I’ve delivered Mr. di Angelo, you and your party can go. I don’t interfere with quests. Besides, I’ve been paid well to give you safe passage, which does not, I’m afraid, include Mr. di Angelo.”

“Paid by whom?” Annabeth said. “What do you mean?”

“Never you mind, darlin’. Let’s be off, shall we?”

“No,” Percy said. His eyes gleamed. “You said you’re a businessman. Make me a deal.”

Geryon narrowed his eyes. “What sort of deal? Do you have gold?”

“I’ve got something better. A barter.”

“But Mr. Jackson, you’ve got nothing.”

“You could have him clean the stables,” Eurytion suggested innocently.

“Yes,” Percy agreed. “If I fail, you get all of us. Trade us all to Luke for gold.”

“Assuming the horses don’t eat you,” Geryon observed.

“Either way, you get my friends,” Percy said. “But if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”

“No!” Nico shouted. “Percy, don’t!”

Geryon chuckled. “Percy Jackson, those stables haven’t been cleaned in a thousand years…though it’s true I might be able to sell more stable space if all that poop was cleared away.”

“So what have you got to lose?”

The rancher hesitated. “All right, I’ll accept your offer, but you have to get it done by sunset. If you fail, your friends get sold, and I get rich.”

“Deal.”

He nodded. “I’m going to take your friends with me, back to the lodge. We’ll wait for you there.”

Percy watched them go quietly, his eyes tracking Geryon until he was out of sight.

They hadn’t sworn anything.

He turned and approached the stables.

One stallion waded through the muck and whinnied angrily at him. The horse bared his teeth, which were pointed like a bear’s.

They gave off a vaguely unfriendly feel, and Percy arched a brow at them when they started chanting about seafood.

He’s sure his father would just love to hear about that.

How had Hercules done it again? He’d channeled a river…

Percy made a face at the thought; that poor river.

But maybe they would have an idea.

His water bottle wouldn’t be enough, and it could only give water so fast. The sun was already sinking.

He made his way downhill. When he got to the river, a girl was waiting for him. She was wearing jeans and a green T-shirt and her long brown hair was braided with river grass. Her skin was tinted blue. She had a stern look on her face. Her arms were crossed.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, and set her chin. “Not again! I don’t care who’s your da’!”

“Definitely not,” Percy agreed. “I’m sorry that happened to you, I can’t imagine how sick you got.”

Her expression rippled; she looked stunned.

“What?” She asked. “You’re not…you’re not going to use my river?”

“No,” Percy said firmly. “I would never willingly pollute any water source. I wanted to ask if you had any ideas, though. My water bottle won’t refill fast enough for the amount of water I need, and I’ve never pulled water from out of nowhere…”

She stared at him for a moment. Then, apparently believing him, her shoulders dropped. Her lips quivered like she was trying to fight tears of relief.

“Yeah,” she said, and wiped her eyes. “I’ll tell you a secret as thanks. Scoop up some of the dirt.”

Percy did so. It was dry and black and spotted with tiny clumps of white rock…like…

“Those are shells,” the naiad said, crouching down next to him. “Petrified seashells. Millions of years ago, even before the time of the gods when only the Earth and Sky reigned, this land was under water. It was part of the sea.”

“And what belongs to the sea will return to the sea,” Percy breathed.

There were little pieces of ancient sea urchins in his hand, mollusk shells. Even the limestone rocks had impressions of seashells embedded in them.

“We’re not so different, little Prince. Even when I’m out of the water, the water is within me. It is my life source.” She stepped back, put her feet in the water, and smiled. “I hope you find a way to rescue your friends.”

“I hope your river stays clean forever,” Percy said back.

For a second, the water almost shimmered.

Her smile grew bigger. “I hope so, too.”

Then she was gone.

He collected the ground up shells and made his way back up the hill.

Someone must have been back to feed the horses, because they were tearing into huge animal carcasses.

Seafood! One thought when he saw Percy. Come in! We’re still hungry.

“I’m sure,” Percy said. “Here, have some water.”

He could feel the water within the shells, imprinted into the lines. It might have been millions of years ago, but Percy would find the sea no matter what.

If not around him, then inside him. The shells were merely guides, he understood then.

He did not need them to bring water to a desert, but they would help.

He tossed the shells into the stable, and the ground erupted into spouts of water. Focusing on the streams, he forced them to get bigger and bigger.

The horses hated it, but slowly the stables grew cleaner and cleaner. The water wasn’t running out of the stables or flowing downhill like water normally would. It simply bubbled around each spring and sank into the ground, taking the dung with it. The horse muck dissolved in the saltwater, leaving regular old wet dirt.

Stop, lord! A horse cried. Stop, please!

Percy concentrated on getting the geysers to die down.

We won’t eat you, the horses wailed. Please, lord! No more salty baths!

“On one condition,” Percy said. “You only eat the food your handlers give you from now on. Not people. Or I’ll be back with more seashells!”

The horses whinnied and made Percy a whole lot of promises that they would be good flesh-eating horses from then on.

The sun was going down. Percy turned and ran full speed toward the ranch house.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

The smell of barbecue hit him before anything else. The desk was set up for a party, but Percy could care less. His friends were all tossed in a corner, tied up like rodeo animals, with their ankles and wrists roped together and their mouths gagged.

“Geryon,” Percy said. “The stables are cleaned.”

Geryon turned. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it?”

Percy told him.

He nodded appreciatively. “Very ingenious. It would’ve been better if you’d poisoned that pesky naiad, but no matter.”

Percy bared his teeth at the monster.

“Let’s get this over with,” Percy said darkly. He uncapped Riptide. “I’m getting quite tired of Texas.”

Nico wiggled on the spot. He said something, muffled by the gag.

Percy was sure it was, Murder!

Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. “Eurytion,” he said, “the boy is starting to annoy me. Kill him.”

Eurytion studied Percy. His eyes locked onto his circlet.

“Kill him yourself,” Eurytion said.

Geryron raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Eurytion grumbled. “You keep sending me out to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no good reason, and I’m tired of dying for you. You want to fight the kid, do it yourself.”

It was probably the smartest thing Percy had ever seen a son of Ares do.

Geryon threw down his spatula. “You dare defy me? I should fire you right now!”

Eurytion’s rebuttal made the monster angry, but Percy was glad he wouldn’t have to kill a dog today.

Geryon picked up two carving knives and threw them at Percy. He deflected one with his sword. The other impaled itself in the picnic table an inch from Eurytion’s hand.

Percy went on the attack. Geryon parried his first strike with a pair of red-hot tongs and lunged at his face with a barbecue fork. Percy got inside his next thrust and stabbed him right through the middle of the chest.

He crumbled to his knees, but didn’t disintegrate. The wound in his chef’s apron started to heal.

“Nice try, sonny,” he said. “Thing is, I have three hearts. The perfect backup system.”

He tipped over the barbecue, and coals spilled everywhere. They landed too close to his friends for comfort.

Three hearts. The perfect backup system. Stabbing one at a time was no good…

And Percy would rather not try his hand at a bow.

He ran into the house.

“Coward!” Geryon cried. “Come back and die right.”

As Percy ran, he uncapped his water bottle, pulling out a stream.

The living room walls were decorated with a bunch of gruesome hunting trophies. Geryon threw his barbecue fork, and it thudden into the wall right next to Percy’s head. He drew two swords from the wall display. “Your head’s gonna go right there, Jackson! Next to the grizzly bear.”

Percy grinned at him. The air filled with lilies and peaco*ck feathers, peering in for a short moment.

Geryon raised his swords and charged. Percy dove sideways. Before he could turn, Percy launched his stream of water into the side of his right chest. It passed clean through each of his chests and flew out his left side, splattering to the floor in a puddle.

The lilies faded away, pleasantly surprised.

Geryon dropped his swords. He turned and stared at Percy. “That’s…what…”

His face turned a sickly shade of green. He collapsed to his knees and crumbled into sand.

Percy freed his friends, and yanked Nico into a hug when they were all back on their feet.

“Sorry,” Nico muttered.

“Yay for Percy!” Tyson said.

“Can we tie up this cowherd now?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah!” Grover agreed. “And that dog!”

Percy looked at Eurytion, who still was sitting relaxed at the picnic table. Orthus had both his heads on the cowherd’s knees.

“How long will it take Geryon to re-form?” He asked him.

Eurytion shrugged. “Hundred years? He’s not one of those fast reformers, thank the gods. You’ve done me a favour.”

“You mentioned that you’ve died for him; how?”

“I’ve worked for that creep for a thousand years. Started as a regular half-blood, but I chose immortality when my dad offered it. Worst mistake I ever made. Now I’m stuck here at this ranch. I can’t leave. I can’t quit. I just tend the cows and fight Geryon’s fights. We’re kinda tied together.”

“Maybe you can change things,” Percy said.

Eurytion narrowed his eyes. “How?”

“Be nice to the animals. Take care of them. Stop selling them for food. And stop dealing with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about that. “That’d be alright.”

“Get the animals on your side, and they’ll help you. Once Geryon gets back, maybe he’ll be working for you this time.”

Eurytion grinned. “Now, that I could live with.”

“I will be telling the Sun God about his cows, though,” Percy warned.

Eurytion winced. “Yeah,” he muttered, “that’s…probably for the best.”

Eurytion got up to start cleaning up some of the mess Geryon had made.

Percy turned to Nico.

The boy looked slightly guilty.

“I don’t want to pass judgement until I know the story,” Percy said, “but Nico, what the heck are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be at your step-mom’s cottage.”

He grumbled.

Annabeth dragged Tyson and Grover away to discuss their next move.

“Nico.”

“I hear you,” the boy said, “I hear you. I just…don’t know how to explain. H θετή μου μαμά is great! And she knows where I am…kinda. I told her I wanted to test out my shadow travel, so she’s been giving me places that are farther and farther away to teleport too. This one’s just the latest.”

“And the ghost?” Percy asked.

Nico didn’t answer. He kicked the ground a little.

Percy sighed.

“You know you can tell us anything, right?” Percy said. “I mean it, Neeks. I won’t push now because I trust you, but if you need help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t,” Nico answered immediately. “I won’t. You’re my siblings. I just…want to keep this to myself, for a while.”

Percy stared at him.

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “Come on then, you’re not getting away without saying goodbye to the others.”

Nico’s eyes lit up, the tension in his shoulders easing.

“What’s the plan?” Percy asked when they rejoined the group.

Annabeth sighed. “Only one option. We make our way back into the Labyrinth. Are you coming with us, Nico?”

The boy shook his head. “I have to get back to η θετή μου μαμά before she gets worried.”

“Your horns are growing in!” Grover complimented.

“They itch,” Nico complained.

“They do that,” Grover agreed. “Have you tried headbutting a tree?”

“I’m not sure that would help,” Annabeth pointed out, her voice full of laughter.

Grover protested, “It might!”

“I’ll give it a try.” Nico grinned.

Percy rolled his eyes. He ruffled Nico’s hair.

The boy yelped.

“We’ll be heading out now. Be careful, Nico, and contact me if you need anything.”

“Good-bye, Shadow Child,” Tyson said cheerfully.

Nico stuck his tongue out at them, still fixing his hair, and then disappeared in a snap of darkness.

“He’s hiding something,” Annabeth said when he was fully gone.

“Yeah,” Percy agreed. “But I trust him to do what’s right.”

She nodded. “Come on, guys,” she said. “Eurytion offered to let us stay the night.”

They gladly accepted the offer. Annabeth got the spare bedroom, while Tyson took one of the armchairs. Grover and Percy crashed on the leather couches.

It was far more comfortable than a bedroll in the maze, but it didn’t stop the nightmares.

First it was Luke, and he was pacing and angry.

Percy watched him snarl and curse and…talk to himself, but it was wrong.

He was all wrong—

The dream abruptly shifted.

Percy stood at the top of a stone tower, overlooking rocky cliffs and the ocean below. Daedalus was hunched over a work table, wrestling with some kind of navigational instrument, like a huge compass. He looked years older than the last vision Percy had had. He was stooped and his hands were gnarled. He cursed in Ancient Greek and squinted as if he couldn’t see his work, even though it was a sunny day.

“Uncle!” A voice called.

A smiling boy about Nico’s age came bounding up the steps, carrying a wooden box.

“Hello, Perdix,” the old man said, though his tone sounded cold. “Done with your projects already?”

“Yes, Uncle. They were easy!”

Daedalus scowled. “Easy? The problem of moving water uphill without a pump was easy?”

“Oh, yes! Look!”

The boy dumped his box and rummaged through the junk. He came up with a strip of papyrus and showed the old inventor some diagrams and notes. Daedalus nodded grudgingly. “I see. Not bad.”

“The king loved it!” Perdix said. “He said I might be even smarter than you!”

Percy’s stomach hit the floor.

“Did he now?”

“But I don’t believe that. I’m so glad Mother sent me to study with you! I want to know everything you do.”

“Yes,” Daedalus muttered. “So when I die, you can take my place, eh?”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Oh no, Uncle! But I’ve been thinking…why does a man have to die, anyway?”

The inventor scowled. “It is the way of things, lad. Everything dies but the gods.”

“But why?” The boy insisted. “If you could capture the animus, the soul in another form…Well, you’ve told me about your automatons, Uncle. Bulls, eagles, dragons, horses of bronze. Why not a bronze form for a man?”

“No, my boy,” Daedalus said sharply. “You are naïve. Such a thing is impossible.”

“I don’t think so,” Perdix insisted. “With the use of a little magic—”

“Magic? Bah!”

“Yes, Uncle! Magic and mechanics together—with a little work, one could make a body that would look exactly human, only better. I’ve made some notes.”

He handed the old man a thick scroll. Daedalus unfurled it. He read for a long time. His eyes narrowed. He glanced at the boy, then closed the scroll and cleared his throat. “It would never work, my boy. When you’re older, you’ll see.”

“Can I fix that astrolabe, then, Uncle? Are your joints swelling up again?”

The old man’s jaw clenched. “No. Thank you. Now why don’t you run along?”

Perdix didn’t seem to notice the old man’s anger. He snatched a bronze beetle from his mound of stuff and ran to the edge of the tower. A low sill ringed the rim, coming just up to the boy’s knees.

The wind was strong.

Move back, Percy wanted to tell him, but his voice didn’t work. Please…

And Perdix couldn’t hear him.

Perdix wound up the beetle and tossed it into the sky. It spread its wings and hummed away.

Perdix laughed with delight.

“Smarter than me,” Daedalus mumbled, too soft for the boy to hear.

“Is it true that your son died flying, Uncle? I heard you made him enormous wings, but they failed.”

Daedalus’s hands clenched. “Take my place,” he muttered.

The wind whipped around the boy, tugging at his clothes, making his hair ripple.

“I would like to fly,” Perdix said. “I’d make my own wings that wouldn’t fail. Do you think I could?”

Maybe it was a dream within his dream, but suddenly Percy imagined the two headed god Janus shimmering in the air next to Daedalus, tossing a silver key from hand to hand.

Choose, he whispered to the old inventor. Choose.

No!

Daedalus picked up another one of the boy’s metal bugs. The inventor’s old eyes were red with anger.

“Perdix,” he called. “Catch.”

He tossed the bronze beetle toward the boy. Delighted, Perdix tried to catch it, but the throw was too long. The beetle sailed into the sky, and Perdix reached a little too far. The wind caught him.

“Uncle!” he screamed. “Help me!”

“No!” Percy cried, and lunged for the boy.

It did nothing; Percy could do nothing.

His fingers brushed against the boy’s, slid right through them, and then he was gone.

“Why did you do that?” Percy whirled on the old man, even though he couldn’t see him. “Why?!”

The old man’s face was a mask.

He didn’t move from his spot.

“Go on, Perdix,” Daedalus said softly. “Make your own wings. Be quick about it.”

“He loved you!” Percy raged. “He loved you and you let him die!”

Janus flickered and disappeared. Then thunder shook the sky. A woman’s stern voice spoke from above: You will pay the price for that, Daedalus.

It was Annabeth’s mother: Athena.

Daedalus scowled up at the heavens. “I have always honored you, Mother. I have sacrificed everything to follow your way.”

Yet the boy had my blessing as well. And you have killed him. For that, you must pay.

“I have paid and paid!” Daedalus growled. “I’ve lost everything. I’ll suffer in the Underworld, no doubt. But in the meantime…”

He picked up the boy’s scroll, studied it for a moment, and slipped it into his sleeve.

You do not understand, Athena said coldly. You will pay now and forever.

Suddenly Daedalus collapsed in agony.

A searing pain closed around Percy’s neck like a molten-hot collar—cutting off his breath,

making everything go black.

He woke in the dark, clutching his throat.

“Percy?” Grover called from the other sofa. “Are you okay?”

Percy steadied his breathing.

The television was going. Blue light flickered through the room.

“What—what time is it?” He croaked.

“Two in the morning,” Grover said. He handed Percy his water bottle. “I couldn’t sleep. I was watching the Nature Channel.” He sniffled. “I miss Juniper.”

Percy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “You’ll see her again soon, Grover.”

Grover shook his head sadly. “Do you know what day it is, Percy? I just saw it on TV. It’s June thirteenth. Seven days since we left camp.”

Percy hissed out a breath. “Time moves faster in the Labyrinth.”

Grover nodded. “The first time you and Annabeth went down there, you thought you were only gone a few minutes, right? But it was an hour.”

“Your deadline with the Council of Cloven Elders…”

Grover put the TV remote in his mouth and crunched off the end of it. “I’m out of time,” he said with a mouthful of plastic. “As soon as I go back, they’ll take away my searcher’s license. I’ll never be allowed to go out again.”

“They won’t,” Percy promised. “I’ll eat them.”

Grover huffed, a teary smile on his face. “You can’t eat them, Percy….”

He continued. “What you did today—saving the ranch animals from Geryon—that was amazing. I—I wish I could be more like you.”

“Don’t say that,” Percy scolded. “You’re just as much a hero—”

“No I’m not. I keep trying, but…” He sighed. “Percy, I can’t go back to camp without finding Pan. I just can’t. You understand that, don’t you? I can’t face Juniper if I fail. I can’t even face myself.”

His voice was so unhappy it hurt to hear. Percy had never heard him sound this down.

“We’ll figure out something,” Percy said. “You haven’t failed. You have to have hope, Grover.”

Grover closed his eyes. “Hope,” he muttered dejectedly. “I don’t know how you do it, Percy…”

A long time after he dozed off, Percy was still awake, watching the blue light of the Nature Channel wash over the stuffed trophy heads on Geryon’s walls.

The next morning, they packed up their supplies, accepted some bagged up food Eurytion swore wasn’t from any animal on the farm, and made their way back to the grate.

He had given Annabeth a little metal disk, a spider which would take them to Hephaestus’s forge. She had looked quite displeased with the form Eurytion told them it would take, but a gift was a gift.

And anything was better than blindly wandering around the maze again.

“Oh, Apollo,” Percy murmured as they left. The other three dropped back down into the Labyrinth entrance. “Might I suggest you pay more attention to your cute fluffy cows? The problem has been fixed, but Geryon might’ve been using them as, ah, food for quite a while.”

The air which had been settled and warm turned blistering as the full weight of the Sun God’s attention shifted his way.

Bay leaves and something noxiously sweet intensified, and then Apollo was there.

His footprints burned into the ground as he came closer; Apollo didn’t bother trying to hide himself.

Gold flared past the blue.

“Hello,” Percy greeted, averting his eyes.

Moo! A close cow said.

Apollo breathed in, and then out. His glow dimmed slightly. Percy was able to look at him without feeling like his eyes were burning.

“I have to be quick,” Percy started. “But essentially, Geryon was taking advantage of your trust and slaughtering your cows to sell the meat to the Titan-God’s army. You’re not the only one he did it too, either. Geryon is now dead, and Eurytion will be taking care of the farm now. I’m sure he will willingly swear to not slaughter them for food.”

Apollo’s eyes sharpened; gold dripped down his face. “Geryon is dead?” He asked to be sure.

“I speared through all three of his hearts,” Percy confirmed. “Eurytion said he was slow to reform. Try to…go easy on him, please. The farm does need a caretaker, and he knows everything about how to do so.”

Mooo!

A cow nudged up to Apollo’s side, unharmed from his burning touch. Apollo sighed, and scratched the cow’s head when she looked up at him pleadingly.

Percy snickered when the god was slowly surrounded.

Apollo rolled his eyes. “Oh, off with you. Thank you for letting me know about my cows. I will be sure to remember Geryon when he inevitably crawls his way back. As for this…Eurytion…I will have a talk with him.”

Percy looked at him sternly.

“...He’ll survive,” the god muttered, “it’ll just be a chat.”

“Uh huh,” Percy said. “See you later, Apollo. Pet all your fluffy cows for me.”

“Pet them yourself,” the god muttered petulantly.

Percy stared at him. “You mean that?” He asked. “I won’t get smited?”

“Smote,” Apollo corrected. He further teased, “I thought you had somewhere to be. You are all cutting this quite close.”

Percy frowned. “You did that on purpose,” he accused. Then, he stated, “I will be back to pet some cows. No take-backsies.”

He turned and jumped into the hole in the ground, Apollo’s laughter chasing after him.

They took off after replacing the grate.

“We couldn’t have put this thing on a leash?” Percy grumbled.

The little mechanical spider the disk had revealed scuttled along the tunnels so fast, most of the time they couldn’t even see it. If it hadn’t been for Annabeth’s excellent hearing, they never would’ve known which way it was going.

They ran down a marble tunnel, then dashed to the left and almost fell into an abyss. Tyson grabbed Percy and hauled him back before he could fall. The tunnel continued in front of them, but there was no floor for about a hundred feet, just gaping darkness and a series of iron rungs in the ceiling.

The mechanical spider was about halfway across, swinging from bar to bar by shooting out metal web fiber.

“Monkey bars,” Annabeth said. “I’m great at these.”

She leaped onto the first rung and started swinging her way across.

Scared of tiny spiders, but not of plummeting to her death from a set of monkey bars. Go figure.

Annabeth got to the opposite side and ran after the spider. Percy followed, and then Tyson and Grover.

They made it across just in time for the last iron bar to rip free.

They kept moving and passed a skeleton crumpled in the tunnel. It wore the remains of a dress shirt, slacks, and a tie. The spider didn’t slow down.

The ground was littered with half broken pencils and bones.

Soon, the tunnel opened up into a large room. A blazing light hit them. Once Percy’s eyes adjusted, the first thing he noticed were the skeletons. Dozens littered the floor around them. Some were old and bleached white. Others were more recent and still decaying.

Percy was sure his nose was just broken from Geryon’s stables, because they didn’t smell as bad as they should.

Then he saw the creature, where the faint smell of lion and bird collided. She stood on a glittery dais on the opposite side of the room. She had the body of a huge lion and the head of a woman. Her hair fanned out around her like a lion’s mane, but there were also feathers mixed in. Her eyes glowed an unsettling shade of red. She was beautiful in a startling and unnerving way.

Red eyes looked down at them in amusem*nt, and she tilted her head like an animal waiting to pounce on its prey.

Tyson whimpered. “Sphinx.”

Percy bared his teeth at the creature.

The Sphinx laughed, the sound a rumbling warble.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice deep and echoing. Behind her, her great wings ruffled.

She was half sitting in the dark. Delicate gold chains wrapped around her paws, neck, and head sparkled in the low light.

The only exit was a tunnel right behind the dais. The mechanical spider scuttled around the Sphinx’s paws and disappeared.

Annabeth stepped forward.

Bars came down on both tunnel exits, behind them and in front. Locking them in.

“My my,” she drawled. “What do we have here?”

She tilted her head the other way, and blinked slowly. “A child of Athena, a child of Poseidon, a satyr, and a cyclops. What a crew…”

“Aren’t you going to ask us a riddle?” Annabeth asked.

“Should I?” The Sphinx mused. “I could just eat you…”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Percy challenged.

She laughed again.

“You,” she said, her glowing eyes finding his circlet, “you’re quite interesting, aren’t you?”

“So are you,” Percy allowed. “You’re older than our gods. What are you doing down here?”

“Old creatures enjoy old places,” the Sphinx answered. She tapped one of her long sharp nails on the floor. “Not many allow themselves to reflect and ponder, but I enjoy it. The world has changed so very much…”

“What is your riddle?” Annabeth demanded impatiently.

The Sphinx settled a sharp and stern look on her. “Be wary, child of Athena, your pride is beginning to get the best of you.”

Annabeth flushed. “You’re supposed to give us a riddle to pass,” she said.

“‘Supposed to,’” the Sphinx echoed in agreement. “All right, then, since you are so wanting…”

She shifted, sitting up straight. Her pupils shuddered. In a low voice which echoed off the walls, she said:

“I speak of paths diverging, mortal ties or godly wings. Balancing on Fates’ fine thread, what choice to you it brings. Between the cabin, safe and sound, and ocean's vast expanse, where does your heart find solace, where does your spirit dance? And here now lies the true question, murmured by the world: Give us your name of the truest form, are you of poisoned sight or of cresting storms?”

Annabeth stared at her, stunned. “That’s,” she started, “that’s not the riddle.”

The Sphinx grinned.

The bars ahead opened.

Annabeth exclaimed over Grover’s ushering, “We haven’t even answered!”

“You didn’t say anything about an answer,” the Sphinx said in amusem*nt. “You simply demanded a riddle. Now off with you, prideful child, before I go back on my deal and decide to eat you.”

“Deal?” Percy asked.

The Sphinx did not answer.

Grover shoved Annabeth, still sputtering, out the exit, and Tyson followed.

Percy huffed. “Thank you,” he said, and then followed his group.

The creature watched them go in silence. The glow of her eyes stayed on them until they turned a corner.

The creaking sound of bars closing echoed down the hall.

“Sphinxes,” Tyson shuddered.

Percy patted him on the shoulder.

“That wasn’t right,” Annabeth muttered. “Why is everything so wrong down here?”

“Maybe we should just be thankful,” Grover pointed out. “We could’ve, oh I don’t know, ended up with those skeletons on the floor.”

“She mentioned a deal,” Percy spoke up. “Geryon did too, remember? Someone’s helping us…”

Annabeth sighed. “Come on,” she said. “I can hear the spider this way.”

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Tyson picked up the sound soon after Annabeth did, and together they were able to navigate their way. They made a few turns, backtracked a few times, and eventually found the spider banging its tiny head on a metal door.

The door looked like one of those old-fashioned submarine hatches—oval, with metal rivets around the edges and a wheel for a doorknob. Where the porthole should’ve been was a big brass plaque, green with age, with a Greek Ȇta inscribed in the middle.

They all looked at each other.

“Ready to meet Hephaestus?” Grover said nervously.

“No,” Annabeth admitted.

Percy shrugged.

“Yes!” Tyson said gleefully, and he turned the wheel.

As soon as the door opened, the spider scuttled inside with Tyson right behind it. Percy followed next, and then Grover and Annabeth.

The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic’s garage, with several hydraulic lifts. Some had cars on them, but others had stranger things: a bronze hippalektryon with its horse head off and a bunch of wires hanging out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed to be hooked up to a battery charger, and a Greek war chariot made entirely of flames.

Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. Tools hung along the walls. Each had its own outline on a Peg-Board, but nothing seemed to be in the right place. The hammer was over the screwdriver place. The staple gun was where the hacksaw was supposed to go.

Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a ’98 Toyota Corolla, a pair of legs stuck out—the lower half of a huge man in grubby gray pants and shoes even bigger than Tyson’s. One leg was in a metal brace.

The spider scuttled straight under the car, and the sounds of banging stopped.

“Well, well,” a deep voice boomed from under the Corolla, “what have we here?”

The mechanic pushed out on a back trolley and sat up.

Percy blinked.

Here in his own workshop, the god apparently didn’t care how he looked. He wore a jumpsuit smeared with oil and grime. ‘Hephaestus’ was embroidered over the chest pocket. His leg creaked and clicked in its metal brace as he stood, and his left shoulder was lower than his right, so he seemed to be leaning even when he was standing up straight. His head was misshapen. He had a black beard.

Percy blinked again, and the god changed.

He was fire, metal, and rock given form. His hair reminded Percy of smoke at the ends, wild black curls as dark as coal pulled back over his head in a half-up, half-down style. He had small donkey-like ears twitching in time to the creaking of his workshop.

A laurel wreath of gold and bronze dripped flint-like crystals down his hair. He was built like a brick house, wearing a simple dark brown tunic covered in graphite smudges and coal. A donkey tail was curled tightly around his waist.

Percy’s eyes trailed along the god’s left arm where the skin was pitch-black with grey lines, like cooling lava; his right fingers were dipped in the same coal-colour. He wore modified sandals, leather straps thicker up his calves than regular sandals would be—Braces. A belt of forge and craft tools hung around his waist.

His hands were the size of catcher’s mitts, but he handled the spider with amazing skill. He disassembled it in two seconds, then put it back together.

“There,” he muttered to himself. “Much better.”

The spider did a happy flip in his palm, shot a metallic web at the ceiling, and went swinging away.

Hephaestus looked up at us. “I didn’t make you, did I?”

“Uh,” Annabeth said, “no, sir.”

“Good,” the god grumbled. “Otherwise you’d have to stay until that smell disappeared. Too much salt and olive.”

He studied Annabeth first, then Percy. “Half-bloods,” he grunted. “Child of Athena. Child of Poseidon.”

He bent a finger towards Percy. “You, come here.”

Percy looked at his friends, shrugged, and moved closer.

Hephaestus tilted his head when Percy stopped in front of him. They locked eyes.

“Your Junkyard sucks,” Percy told him.

The god huffed. He bent down, and nudged Percy in the shoulder with a finger so he would spin.

“Fine craftsmanship,” he declared. “This has to be one of Poseidon’s best works. The addition heightens its beauty. A perfect, dangerous piece.”

“Um,” Annabeth said. “You mean…Percy?”

Percy snorted.

“What?” The god’s brows furrowed. “No, no. His circlet. You demigods are all half-clay. Unless you’re one of mine, I prefer metal.”

He then looked at Grover and frowned. “Satyr.” Then he looked at Tyson, and his eyes twinkled. “Well, a Cyclops. Good, good. What are you doing travelling with this lot?”

“I’m taking a trip with my brother,” said Tyson, staring in wonder at the god.

“Brother, eh?” Hephaestus hummed. He sniffed. “You do smell like the same pod. What do you all want?”

“Sir,” Annabeth said hesitantly, “we’re looking for Daedalus. We thought—”

“Daedalus?” The god barked. “You want that old scoundrel? You dare to seek him out!”

His beard burst into flames and his black eyes glowed.

“Uh, yes, sir, please,” Annabeth said.

“Humph. You’re wasting your time.” He frowned at something on his work table and limped over to it. He picked up a lump of springs and metal plates and tinkered with them. In a few seconds he was holding a bronze and silver falcon. It spread its metal wings, blinked its obsidian eyes, and flew around the room.

Tyson laughed and clapped his hands. The bird landed on Tyson’s shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately.

Hephaestus regarded him. The god’s scowl didn’t change, but Percy was sure there was a kinder twinkle in his eyes. “You smell of something older, Cyclops.”

Tyson’s smile widened. “Y-yes, lord. We met a Hundred-Handed One.”

Hephaestus nodded, looking unsurprised. “Briares?”

“Yes. He—he was scared. He would not help us. Not at first. But Percy made him swear to join the fight if he beat Kampê, and Percy did!”

Hephaestus was quiet.

“Kampê is dead?” He asked quietly.

“Yes!” Tyson exclaimed. “And Tethys has been set free—they both went into the water.”

Hephaestus grunted.

For a moment, Percy thought he looked impressed, and then the expression was gone. He kept tinkering with the materials on his work table.

“What would you ask of me, little demigod?”

Percy blinked and Annabeth frowned.

Hephaestus was asking him.

Percy’s lips tightened. He shot Annabeth an apologetic look, but she shook her head and gestured to the god.

He explained. “We need to find Daedalus. Luke, someone working for the Titan-King, is trying to find a way to navigate the Labyrinth so he can invade our camp. Even if Daedalus won’t help us, we have to try.”

Hephaestus huffed. The falcon cooed from Tyson’s shoulder.

“Ask me for gold,” Hephaestus said. “Or a flaming sword. Or a magical steed. These I can grant you easily. But a way to Daedalus? That’s an expensive favor.”

“You know where he is, then,” Annabeth pressed.

“It isn’t wise to go looking, girl.”

“My mother says looking is the nature of wisdom.”

Hephaestus narrowed his eyes. “But if you are blindly stumbling, where can you look?”

“Then help us not be blind,” Percy interjected. “We’ll do something in trade, whatever you want within reason.”

The god rubbed his chin, sending sparks over the floor. Finally, he decided, “All right, half-blood. I can tell you what you want to know. But there is a price. I need a favour done.”

“Name it,” Annabeth said.

Hephaestus actually laughed—a booming sound like a huge bellow stoking a fire.

“You heroes,” he said, “always so eager and rash. How refreshing!”

He pressed a button on his workbench, and metal shutters opened along the wall. It was either a huge window or a big-screen TV. They were looking at a grey mountain ringed in forests. It must’ve been a volcano, because smoke rose from its crest.

“One of my forges,” Hephaestus said. “I have many, but that used to be my favorite.”

“That’s Mount St. Helens,” Grover said. “Great forests around there.”

“You’ve been there?” Percy asked.

“Looking for…you know, Pan.”

“Wait,” Annabeth said, looking at Hephaestus. “You said it used to be your favorite. What happened?”

Hephaestus scratched his smoldering beard. “Well, that’s where the monster Typhon is trapped, you know. Used to be under Mount Etna, but when we moved to America, his force got pinned under Mount St. Helens instead. Great source of fire, but a bit dangerous. There’s always a chance he will escape. Lots of eruptions these days, smoldering all the time. He’s restless with the Titan rebellion.”

“Typhon?” Percy questioned. “The Bane of Olympus?”

“The very one,” Hephaestus said grimly.

“I doubt you want us to fight him?” Percy commented, “I mean, I can try, but I won’t be happy about it.”

Hephaestus snorted. “If your father heard wind of that, you’d never see the sun again,” he said, “and then he’d come to kill me for even speaking it. The gods themselves ran from Typhon when he was free. No, pray you never have to see him, much less fight him. Lately I have sensed intruders in my mountain. Someone or something is using my forges. When I go there, it is empty, but I can tell it is being used. They sense me coming, and they disappear. I send my automatons to investigate, but they do not return. Something…ancient is there. Evil. I want to know who dares to invade my territory, and if they mean to free Typhon.”

“You want us to find out who it is,” Percy stated to make sure.

“Aye,” Hephaestus said. “Go there. They may not sense you coming. You are not gods.”

He eyed Percy like he was debating his own statement.

Percy smiled up at him innocently.

“Go and find out what you can,” Hephaestus eventually said. “Report back to me, and I will tell you what you need to know about Daedalus.”

“All right,” Annabeth said. “How do we get there?”

Hephaestus clapped his hands. The spider came swinging down from the rafters. Annabeth flinched when it landed at her feet.

“My creation will show you the way,” Hephaestus said. “It is not far through the Labyrinth. And try to stay alive, will you? My children would be quite displeased if you didn’t return, and I’d rather not have that.”

The metal door swung shut with an ominous clang!

They made good progress down the various halls until they hit tree roots. The spider raced along and they were keeping up, but then they spotted a tunnel off to the side that was dug from raw earth, and wrapped in thick roots. Grover stopped dead in his tracks.

It smelled like the wild and strawberries.

“What?” Annabeth asked.

He didn’t move. He stared open-mouthed into the dark tunnel. His curly hair rustled in the breeze.

“Come on!” Annabeth said. “We have to keep moving.”

“This is the way,” Grover muttered in awe. “This is it.”

“To Pan,” Percy said.

Grover nodded. “Yes! This is the way. I’m sure of it!”

Up ahead, the spider was getting farther down the stone corridor. A few more seconds and they’d lose it.

“Well come back,” Annabeth promised. “On our way back to Hephaestus.”

“The tunnel will be gone by then,” Grover said. “I have to follow it. A door like this won’t stay open!”

“But we can’t,” Annabeth said. “The forges!”

Grover looked at her sadly. “I have to, Annabeth. Don’t you understand?”

She looked desperate, like she didn’t understand at all.

The spider was almost out of sight.

“We’ll split up,” Percy said.

“No!” Annabeth said. “That’s way too dangerous. How will we ever find each other again? And Grover can’t go alone.”

Tyson put his hand on Grover’s shoulder. “I—I will go with him.”

Percy looked at him. “Are you sure?”

The big guy nodded. “Goat boy needs help. We will find the god person. I trust friends.”

Grover took a deep breath. “Percy, we’ll find each other again. We’ve still got the empathy link. I just…have to.”

“I trust you,” Percy said. “This is the strongest the smell has ever been. Go.”

It was the most confident Percy had seen him in a while.

“Be careful,” he told him. He gave them both hugs.

Then Tyson and Grover disappeared through the tunnel of tree roots and were lost in the darkness.

“This is bad,” Annabeth said. “Splitting up is a really, really bad idea.”

“We’ll see them again,” Percy said. “Now come on. The spider is getting away!”

They rushed after it.

It wasn’t long until the tunnel started to get hot.

The stone walls glowed. The air felt as if they were walking through an oven, but it was getting worse as they moved. The tunnel sloped down and Percy could hear a loud roar, like a river of metal. The spider skittered along, with Annabeth right behind.

They were just approaching the mouth of what looked like a cavern.

Except…

“Annabeth,” Percy called.

She slowed.

He caught up and said, “It’s getting too hot in here…”

The girl was breathing heavily. Percy felt somewhat fine—his sweater kept him cool for now, but the smoke stung his eyes and his hands felt dried out. Annabeth was sweating buckets already, her hair frizzing and even the faint feathers he could see curling in on themselves.

“What do you think we can do?” Annabeth asked. “The forge is up ahead…”

“I think one of us should turn back,” Percy said.

“But we don’t know what—”

There were voices suddenly getting closer.

They both looked at each other, wide-eyed, and then hit the floor.

A group of monsters walked by. Their faces were like dogs, with black snouts, brown eyes, and

pointy ears. Their bodies were sleek and black like sea mammals, with stubby legs that were half flipper, half foot, and humanlike hands with sharp claws.

“Telekhines,” Annabeth hissed in Percy’s ear.

The group walked right past them, chattering about lessons and what they would get to kill that day.

“Come on,” Annabeth said, and tugged Percy back down the way they came when the group was out of sight.

“Wait, Annabeth, we should—”

“He just said we needed to see what was in the forge, not that we had to take care of it.”

“But we haven’t seen what they’re doing here,” Percy protested. “This is important. They’re doing something bad down there. I know it.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Annabeth asked. “Percy—”

“Annie—”

“No!” It burst out of Annabeth. “You can’t keep doing this, Percy! You can’t just keep—throwing yourself into danger!”

They stared at each other. Percy tugged his wrist from her hand. She refused to let go.

“Annie,” he said, “I gotta go.”

She blinked hard.

“I–” She said, “I’m sorry.”

Percy was quiet.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, shoulders shuddering. “A-about what I said. A year ago.”

His stomach dropped.

“Annabeth—”

“You heard me.” She didn’t let him speak. “You heard me, didn’t you? When I spoke to Clarisse…There’s a wall between us, has been ever since.”

“I—” Her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, Percy. I shouldn’t have called you that—”

“You were scared,” Percy interrupted. “You had almost gotten to the sirens, and then you were drowning. I can’t…blame you.”

“That doesn’t change that it hurt you,” she said, and Percy avoided her eyes.

She wiped her face.

“I’m not going to stop you,” she said, “and I’m not going to stop apologising until you get it.”

Percy closed his eyes.

Breathed.

“I believe you,” he said. “I do, Annie. And it did hurt, but I think as much as you might have meant me…I think you were talking to yourself, too.”

“We,” he shifted his wrist so they were holding hands, “are not monsters, Annabeth Chase.” She sniffled. “And we are not alone. There is a whole camp out there, with people like us, people who don’t shy away. We can’t run from that; We have to protect it.”

She nodded tearfully.

“Now go,” he told her, “and tell him what we’ve found. I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Be careful,” she said, “and take this.”

Her Yankee hat.

Then she was gone.

Percy turned to face the opening, and made his way forward, keeping his steps light and careful. He tugged the hat on.

Their spider escort had stopped and curled into a ball. Percy swooped it up before moving forward, tailing after the group.

He couldn’t help gazing around in awe as he moved.

The forge of Hephaestus.

There was no floor in the center, just bubbling lava hundreds of feet below. Percy stood on a rock ridge that circled the cavern. A network of metal bridges spanned across it. At the center was a huge platform with all sorts of machines, cauldrons, forges, and the largest anvil Percy had ever seen—a block of iron the size of a house.

Creatures moved around the platform—several more of the telekhines Percy had seen earlier.

A whole army of them.

The heat was horrible. Geryon’s ranch had been a winter wonderland compared to this. Even with his sweater, he was becoming drenched with sweat. His eyes stung worse.

He moved along, trying to keep away from the edge, until he found his way blocked by a cart on metal wheels, like the kind they use in mineshafts. He lifted up the tarp and found it was half full of scrap metal. He was about to squeeze his way around it when he heard voices from up ahead, from a side tunnel.

“Bring it in?” One asked.

“Yeah,” another said. “Movie’s just about done.”

He didn’t have time to back up, so he scrambled inside the cart and pulled the tarp over him. He curled his fingers around Riptide, just in case he had to fight.

The cart lurched forward.

“Oi,” a gruff voice said. “Thing weighs a ton.”

“It’s celestial bronze,” the other said. “What did you expect?”

Percy got pulled along. They turned a corner, and from the sound of the wheels echoing against the walls he guessed he had passed down a tunnel and into a smaller room. Hopefully he wasn’t about to be dumped into a smelting pot.

His father would be furious.

There were a lot of talking, chattering voices that didn’t sound human—somewhere between a seal’s bark and a dog’s growl. There were other sounds too—like an old fashioned film projector and a tinny voice narrating.

“Just set it in the back,” a new voice ordered from across the room. “Now, younglings, please attend to the film. There will be time for questions afterward.”

The voices quieted down, and Percy could hear the film.

Excited snarling filled the room after. The teacher—or who must have been a teacher—told the younglings to be quiet.

Percy formed his plan.

“Now, younglings,” the instructor said when the film ended, “what is the proper name of our kind?”

“Sea demons!” One of them barked.

“No. Anyone else?”

“Telekhines!” Another monster growled.

“Very good,” the instructor said. “And why are we here?”

“Revenge!” Several shouted.

“Yes, yes, but why?”

“Zeus is evil!” One monster said. “He cast us into Tartarus just because we used magic!”

“Indeed,” the instructor said. “After we made so many of the gods’ finest weapons. The trident of the Sea God, for one. And of course—we made the greatest weapon of the Titans! Nevertheless, Zeus cast us away and relied on those fumbling Cyclopes. That is why we are taking over the forges of the usurper Hephaestus. And soon we will go after that hideous underwater kingdom and control the undersea furnaces, our ancestral home!”

Oh, they had just threatened one of Percy’s homes.

“And so, younglings,” the instructor continued, “who do we serve?”

“Kronos!” They shouted.

“And when you grow to be big telekhines, will you make weapons for the army?”

“Yes!”

“Excellent. Now, we’ve brought in some scraps for you to practice with. Let’s see how ingenious you are.”

Here he goes. He uncapped his water bottle and stashed his bag and Annabeth’s hat.

There was a rush of movement and excited voices coming toward the cart.

The tarp was thrown back.

Percy jumped up, his bronze sword springing to life in his hands, and found himself facing a whole group of monsters.

“A demigod!” One growled.

Percy smiled pleasantly.

“Boo,” he said, and lunged.

His whip of water shot through the crowd to the door, where it covered the handle and froze, trapping them inside.

He went after the instructor and the guards first, then turned on the rest. They’d only just gotten their bearings, but Percy didn’t stop or hesitate to see what they would do.

Soon, the room grew quiet. Piles of golden dust littered the room.

Percy brushed some of it off his clothes, but the heat kept most of it sticking.

He collected his things and pulled back on Annabeth’s cap. The door knob unfroze on his command, and he slipped back into the tunnels.

Eventually, slicing through any telekhines he’d come across, he found his way back to the large cavern. On a platform at the center of the lava lake, a small group of adult telekhines were working on something.

The blade smelled worse than the monsters working on it.

There was an evil glint to it, even unfinished.

He needed to get it.

There were four sea demons, but these were fully grown, at least eight feet tall. Their black skin glistened in the firelight as they worked, sparks flying as they took turns hammering on the long piece of glowing hot metal.

They were distracted.

No time like the present.

He formed a group of spikes out of water. It was harder to keep them formed here, so close to the lava. He left his bottle uncapped so he could continually feed them and—

He launched one at each telekhine, spearing through them.

They had no time to yell or scream; they simply disintegrated away.

The blade clattered to the ground.

Percy made his way over slowly, glaring down at the weapon.

It was about six feet long and curved like a crescent moon—a scythe so foul Percy wanted it gone.

But a part of him knew that lava wouldn’t take care of it.

“Hey!” Something howled. “An invisible intruder!”

Percy slowly picked up the blade. It was cool in his hand, unnaturally so.

Telekhines were starting to surround the platform.

“Show yourself!” An adult snarled.

Percy pulled off his cap, cold eyes surveying his surroundings.

A few of the younger ones flinched back, and even the adults seemed to hesitate.

“I,” Percy started, “am Perseus Jackson.”

His voice crashed off the walls.

“Son of the Earthshaker, the Stormbringer, the Father of Horses.” He bared his teeth. “Stand aside, or die.”

One of the adults laughed, but it was shaky.

“What could you do down here?” The adult growled. “A Son of the Sea; there is no water here.”

“Yeah!” The young sea demons howled. “Let’s kill him!”

Another demon said, “Your father betrayed us. He took our gift and said nothing as we were cast into the pit. We will see him sliced to pieces. He and all the other Olympians. But first, we will deal with you. We will send you in a box to your father!”

The crowd cheered.

“You have threatened my home,” Percy said. “And now you have threatened my father. A price is to be paid for your foolishness.”

His eyes started to glow.

He didn’t know it, but they glowed to match the lava below. They glowed red.

The voice of the river naiad at the ranch echoed in his head: The water is within me.

A telekhine picked up some lava. It set his fingers ablaze, but this didn’t seem to bother him at all. The rest started to follow.

Percy didn’t need shells. He didn’t even need the water within his bottle and he especially didn’t need the sea.

The water was within him.

He reached inside himself for the waves and the currents, the endless power of the ocean. The cabin’s lights flickered as he moved into the water.

And he let it loose.

Something—

cracked.

There was an explosion, a tidal wave, a whirlwind of power simultaneously catching him up and blasting him downward into the lava.

Fire and water collided, superheated steam, and he shot upward from the heart of the volcano in a huge explosion.

The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was flying, and then beginning to fall, a ball of smoke and fire and water.

And he thought to himself:

This must’ve been how Icarus had felt.

A comet hurtling toward the earth.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Percy woke up feeling like he was still on fire.

His skin stung. His throat felt as dry as sand. He could almost make out the blue sky and trees above him. He could hear a fountain gurgling, and smelled juniper and cedar and a bunch of other sweet-scented plants.

There were waves, too, gently lapping on a sandy shore.

He wished to be in them, but he couldn’t move. His muscles felt like they were melting.

“Stay still,” a girl’s voice said. “You are too weak to rise.”

He flinched from her. She laid a cool cloth across his forehead. A bronze spoon hovered over him and he nearly choked until he realised what it was.

Nectar.

The girl’s face appeared above him. She had almond eyes and caramel-coloured hair braided over one shoulder. She was…fifteen? Sixteen? At least physically.

Her eyes were older, like Zoë’s had been. She smelled like Atlas, too, like stars and the earth, but it was softened by the sea. There was something sad about her, and something like invisible chains around her wrists.

They glittered gold and disappeared into the ground.

She began singing, but Percy’s pain remained. He could feel her music trying to sink into his skin, but it felt like needles.

He tried to get away. “St—St-op.”

The singing stopped. She looked at him curiously.

“My healing is not working,” she said with a frown. “I cannot let you leave.”

She probably meant it to be comforting, but all Percy felt was threatened.

Was he a prisoner now?

“W-who?” He croaked.

“Shhh” she said. “Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. I am Calypso.”

He wanted the sea.

His eyes fell closed.

The next time Percy woke up he was in a cave. The ceiling glittered with different coloured crystal formations—white and purple and green, like he was inside one of those cut geodes.

He was lying on a comfortable bed with feather pillows and cotton sheets. The cave was divided into sections by white silk curtains. Against one wall stood a large loom and a harp. Any other time, he’d be ecstatic to try them both. Against the other wall were shelves neatly stacked with jars of fruit preserves. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling.

Everything still hurt.

The girl was nowhere to be found; he couldn’t even smell her.

He struggled to push himself up.

He needed to get out of there; he needed to get to the water.

There was a throbbing pain in his head. He was covered in bandages already bleeding through and wearing nothing more than a loose blue chiton. He forced himself up, shuddering as he pulled at his wounds. His eyes found the mirror sitting in the corner.

A wheeze left him. He looked like he’d lost weight, too much weight. His hair was limp and oily, and his skin, what little he could even see, was red and cracked.

His hands were once again scorched.

There was a storm outside. Water splashed against the opening of the cave; a collection of things had been pulled from the opening and piled further in the cave. The sound of thunder was so loud it was as if the ground was shaking.

Percy limped towards the mouth, determined to leave. Right at the exit, he nearly tripped over…

The scythe.

Percy hissed. He couldn’t leave it; he wouldn’t dare.

With his hurt hands, he grabbed the weapon and dragged it with him.

The cave opened into a green meadow. Barely, he could make out a grove of cedar trees on the left and a huge flower garden on the right. Four fountains gurgled in the meadow, each shooting water from the pipes of stone satyrs. Straight ahead, the grass sloped down to a rocky beach. The waves of a lake lapped against the stones.

Fresh water.

He stopped to enjoy the rain and catch his breath, tilting his head back to the dark sky. It eased some of his aches, but not all.

He kept moving, hobbling forward in the opposite direction of the lake, towards the beach he knew was close.

In front of him, almost out of nowhere, though he might not have been paying that much attention, a great open temple sprang up. Wet grass turned to cool marble. The storm raged on, blowing the silk curtains everywhere, until they were tangled in one another and ruined.

His dragging footsteps echoed softly on the wet floor. In front of him, someone shimmered into view.

They were half cloaked in the shadows, the torches having all been blown out, but Percy would recognise that smell of the forge anywhere.

“Hephaes—Heph—”

Percy stumbled. His vision was tunneling. He nearly tripped at the god’s feet, and would have collapsed had he not been caught.

“There…your for-forge…”

“Has been cleared,” the god finished.

He easily took Percy’s weight, picking him up with one arm and taking the scythe with the other. Without any hesitation, he made his way through the confusing halls.

“Yes. You have my thanks.”

“You sh-should get your bracelet-t,” Percy murmured, “i-it’s in…my bag…bag…d-do you know wh-where my bag is?”

“I’ll find it,” Hephaestus said.

“Good,” Percy breathed. He curled close. “Y-you’ll…know…”

They exited the dark halls right onto sand; Percy could hear the water clearly, could feel it.

Above them, the sun peaked out from behind the clouds and flared; the wind swirled gently around them.

Hephaestus waded into the water to his knees. He addressed the sea.

“Poseidon,” his voice rumbled with divine power, “your assistance is needed.”

Nothing happened, then the air filled so heavily with sea salt caramel even Percy could make it out of his poor nose. The water swirled in front of them; the sky darkened even more. In a single second, a god made his way out of the waves, barely condensing to a human form in his wild fury.

“Hephaestus.” The god’s voice hit the air like a thousand waterfalls. “Why…”

Percy could barely turn his head to look at his father.

At the sight of him, Poseidon grew extremely still, though the earth below began to shake.

“I owe your son a great boon,” Hephaestus said without blinking. "He cleared my forge of telekhines, near a hundred of them by my count. And more importantly…”

The God of the Forge threw the scythe between them, a disgusted look on his face.

“He has brought us what they were making.”

“Father’s scythe,” Poseidon hissed.

The water around the weapon retreated in spirals, leaving it on the sand as if it didn’t want to touch it. The waves clawed up the beach.

Rain poured down even harder, though Percy was shielded.

“They…g-give…Ti-Titan,” Percy murmured.

“Yes,” Hephaestus agreed, “it was almost done.”

Percy was carefully shifted into his father’s awaiting arms.

“The volcano erupted,” Hephaestus informed Poseidon quietly.

“S-sorry,” Percy slurred, and closed his eyes against his father’s chest. “Didn’t mean too.”

One of Poseidon’s hands cradled the back of his head in comfort.

Hephaestus continued, his voice growing fainter, “The boy’s power caused it, but he was greatly injured in the process. Not even Calypso could heal him…”

Poseidon answered, but Percy couldn’t make it out. He finally gave in, and embraced the darkness.

He dreamed of nothing.

There were voices, always voices.

They often hovered over him, taking great care to speak lowly so as not to disturb him.

Percy mourned when they went away, but they had since proven that they would return.

One of them liked to hum. Another would gently play with his hair. Two more would come to just talk to him.

There was one that would hover in the corner, feeling like storms, and disappear anytime someone else came in.

The last, the most familiar, would gather him up and hold him.

Sometimes there were others; they would either cement themselves into the room or simply peer in. A booming, familiar voice kept soft and even, accompanied by a lilting croon and a gruff barking; the quick fluttering of small wings and the hiss of snakes bickering; blooming grapes and some scolding threats and twisting thread; the smell of flowers and bones; warmth and peaco*cks; oaths and old water; a twin-set of warm and cold tones which would settle at his sides in quiet solidarity.

When Percy finally opened his eyes, he was alone.

But he also wasn’t.

His bonds flared to life almost immediately, a raucous roar of siblings expressing their relief. Grover, wherever he was, most likely just burst into tears.

He soothed them, carefully pushing himself up.

He was in Atlantis.

His wounds were fully healed; his hands were fine and he could smell once more. His skin was slightly pale but lacking scars. The tattoos crawling down his shoulders seemed to swim around his skin, as if the water was swishing them around. His circlet was still in one piece on his head and someone had put him into another blue chiton.

He pulled back on the new blue sweater folded up at the end of the bed and his chlamys from where it had been a blanket, and made his way down the halls, following the smell of his father and family.

The room, if he remembered correctly, was the War Room Amphitrite had shown him.

The doors creaked open at his approach.

Within, the War Court fell quiet. Some, he recognised, but others, he did not.

Percy met Poseidon’s eyes.

There was a new light there, the heaviness which had only darkened them easing for the first time since Percy had last seen him.

“Percy,” he greeted, his voice echoing.

All around, his War Court saluted.

“Hail,” they said, “Perseus Jackson, Son of Poseidon, Prince of the Seas.”

Even Triton banged his trident in recognition.

“Let us pause here,” Amphitrite said, a smile on her face. “We have made good progress.”

The Court saluted and dispersed, leaving the royal family. Delphin smiled at him as he left and Palaemon waved excitedly. Even East and Hudson had ceased scowling for the moment.

“Come,” Poseidon said, “there is much to discuss.”

“What was that?” Percy asked, swimming to join his family in the next room. It was a smaller, more personal room with a large table in the center.

He tried to take a chair across the table, but he was yanked into Poseidon’s arms before he could sit down.

“Better start praying,” Triton told him, smirking as he took the chair on Poseidon’s right.

“For what?” Percy asked, frowning.

“That father might even consider letting you go after the stunt you pulled.”

“Triton,” Amphitrite admonished, but there was no bite in her voice.

“Well,” Percy grumbled, he angled his head back to meet Poseidon’s eyes. “Whoops?” He offered.

Poseidon rumbled.

“Percy,” Amphitrite scolded.

Benthesikyme snickered. “You’re quite a danger-magnet, aren’t you?” She said with amusem*nt.

“As if it doesn’t run in the family,” Rhode sighed. “Though—” She eyed Percy. “—none of us can say we’ve blown up a volcano.”

Percy ducked his head in embarrassment. “How bad was it?” He asked.

None of them answered.

“Grover’s going to kill me,” he groaned. He looked at Triton. “That bad?”

The mer-man nodded solemnly.

“The good news,” Amphitrite sighed, “is that no mortals were killed. Hades is pleased with that. The bad news, well…I suppose it depends on one’s definition of bad.”

Percy stared at her.

“...Burns are good for forests, after all.”

“Controlled burns,” Percy said. “Key word: controlled. I don’t know about you, but I’m quite sure I had no control over it after I was launched into the stratosphere.”

Poseidon’s hug grew tighter.

“Yes,” Amphitrite allowed. Her expression was tight. “You startled quite a few gods doing that, both on the ground and…and in the sky.”

Benthesikyme coughed. Triton’s lips were quivering.

Percy’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” He asked.

He paused. “Actually, no.” He pointed at them. “I don’t want to know.”

“Probably for the best,” Rhode said, her tone just a touch too cheerful.

He could feel Poseidon’s lips turn upward in his hair.

“You’re all terrible,” Percy announced. “Terrible.”

Triton cleared his throat. “Don’t worry,” he said neutrally, “we’ve all done some chaotic things at least once in our life…even if none of them were attempting to be a bird.”

Benthesikyme cracked. Her laughter filled the room, followed by Triton’s snickering. Even Rhode giggled at him.

“I’m being bullied,” Percy stated. He looked back at Poseidon, who’s eyes were filled with amusem*nt. “Πατέρας, they’re bullying me.”

“Children,” Poseidon said evenly.

They fell silent.

His eyes gleamed. “We must be supportive of all of your sibling’s choices…even the incredibly terrible ones.”

Percy looked at him in betrayal as the laughter came back louder.

Poseidon smirked down at him.

“All right,” Percy grumbled. “All right, I get it. Make a stupid decision and get laughed at. Haha.”

Amphitrite sighed at her children and husband. “Indeed,” she said. She looked at him sharply, “And you will never attempt to ignite a volcano without proper practice again, correct?”

“I guess,” Percy muttered. “It’s definitely not in the plans.”

“I’ll take it,” she said, nodding. “Now, we must wrap this up. As much as we might not want you to go, there is still a quest to be finished.”

It was Poseidon’s turn to grumble this time.

“Before I go,” Percy said. “Did Briares make it? Did Tethys? And what happened to the scythe?”

His siblings shared a look, and then wished him well before making their way out of the room.

They took what remained of Poseidon’s good mood with them.

The water whipped around the table the moment the door closed, nearly cracking it from the force.

“Ah,” Poseidon said. “That reminds me.”

He turned Percy to face him, his eyes sharp.

“Kampê,” the god rumbled. “You fought Kampê.”

“I killed Kampê,” Percy fixed. “She’s…”

Poseidon’s glare did not lessen.

“Dead…” Percy finished.

He looked at Amphitrite for assistance, but she wore her own expression of scolding.

“How much trouble am I in for that one?” He asked tiredly.

“I am coming to realise that you have a habit of throwing yourself into danger,” Poseidon said darkly. “I would rather my son not die due to his own rashness.”

“It’s not rashness,” Percy defended. “Kampê was dangerous, yes, but she needed to die. Otherwise…she probably would have attacked us or camp later. I’ve faced plenty just as bad as her…”

“Why did it have to be you?” Poseidon questioned. “Why did it have to be you who took care of her? Why did it have to be you to go into the forge? Why is it always you?”

“Who else?” Percy frowned. “I know what I’m capable of—”

“Do you?” Poseidon challenged. “So you were aware that you could blow up that volcano?”

“Well, no—”

“And yet you went in anyway—”

“Because I had to—”

“You keep saying that,” Poseidon hissed. “You keep saying that and I do not believe you!”

The walls cracked.

“Of course you don’t!” Percy snapped back. He shoved himself away from the god. “Why would you? It’s not like you have Prophecy anymore. How could you possibly believe me?! No one seems to believe me!”

“‘Those with prophecy stick together,’” Percy repeated his words, “and that obviously doesn’t include you anymore!”

The table fell apart.

“Enough!”

Amphitrite appeared between them. She looked at Poseidon sternly.

“You are letting your anger and protectiveness get the best of you,” she scolded, “and he is not responding well to it. Calm yourself.”

“Percy,” she continued, turning to him. Her voice was softer. “Breathe, little one, before you bring the roof down on us.”

The shuddering stopped.

Percy hadn’t even realised—

“Breathe,” Amphitrite urged.

She said something to Poseidon in a language he didn’t understand, and Poseidon responded just as quietly.

Then she swam forward, placed a kiss on Percy’s head, and left the room.

“Percy.”

He looked up.

Poseidon held out his hand. The anger had drained out of him. His eyes dimmed, and the water gentled further.

Percy took his hand, and was pulled back into Poseidon’s arms.

“I am sorry,” Poseidon murmured. “That was not fair of me. You have only just woken up and I did not give you a chance to speak.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Percy said quietly. “I didn’t…mean what I said. You do still have prophecy…”

“But it is different,” Poseidon sighed. He waved his hand, fixing the room. “I do not see as clearly as I used to. Much like the ghost nets, the strings of the Fates have become nigh unnoticeable unless they allow it.”

“But you…” Poseidon gently brushed his hair. “You have a strong sight, strong enough that it blinds others, and that…scares me, Percy. It means I cannot see you.”

“The Fates are not kind,” Percy said. “But they are not cruel. They just are, πατέρας, you have to trust in that.”

Poseidon chuckled. “Turning my own words on me,” he teased.

He placed their foreheads together.

“I will let you go,” he said. “But promise me, Percy, that you will be more careful. I mean it. You cannot care for others, for your camp, if you are not here to do so.”

“I promise,” Percy said. He cleared his throat. “I promise.”

Poseidon sighed. “Briares made it,” he finally confirmed. “He has found a good home within my forges and he has been a great help against our attackers. Tethys has been reunited with Oceanus. He has not yet announced what he will do, but I am hoping he will pull out of the war.”

“Not join you?” Percy asked.

Poseidon shook his head. “Tethys was extremely injured. Her kidnapping has weighed greatly on her and I would not begrudge him wanting to keep his entire focus on her to ensure she does not unravel.”

Percy nodded in understanding. “Not even the ambrosia I had seemed to help her,” he said sadly. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Unfortunately not.” Poseidon’s eyes were stormy at the thought of losing a sea deity. “She needs time and care; Oceanus loves her, so these things will be freely given…”

“But in the end it will be on her,” Percy finished. “I get it now. It’s why the divine fade. It’s not that mortals forget to believe, it’s that the divine forget themselves.”

Poseidon blinked.

“Don’t ever forget yourself, πατέρας, or I will be angry with you.”

That startled a soft laugh out of the god.

“I will keep that in mind,” he said quietly. “And fear not about the scythe, for it has been destroyed. Now you must go, my pearl. Your camp is in mourning…”

Percy did not waste any time. He hugged his father once more and then darted away into the dark, following the smell of his other home.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

It should have taken days, but Percy had pushed it and the waves were helping.

He washed up on the shores of Camp Half-Blood hours later.

His camp seemed deserted.

It was late afternoon, but the archery range was empty. The climbing wall poured lava and rumbled all by itself. Pavilion: nothing. Cabins: all vacant.

Then he noticed smoke rising from the amphitheater, where the smell of most of his people had gathered and where the wind carried a stiff silence.

“Who…”

Someone must’ve died, and with a horrible feeling, he was sure they thought it was him.

He heard Chiron making an announcement: “—assume he is dead,” Chiron said sadly. “After so long a silence, it is unlikely our prayers will be answered. I have asked his surviving friend to do the final honors.”

Percy came up on the back of the amphitheater.

Nobody noticed him.

They were all looking forward, watching as Annabeth took a long green silk burial cloth, embroidered with a trident, and set it on the flames. They were burning his shroud.

It was one of the sweetest, saddest things he’d ever seen.

They were absolutely going to laugh about this afterward.

Annabeth turned to face the audience. She looked terrible. Her eyes were puffy from crying, but she managed to say, “He was probably the bravest friend I’ve ever had. He did so much for this camp. He cared about all of us. He—”

Her teary owl eyes locked him and her face went blood red.

“He’s right there!”

Heads turned.

People gasped.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“I have an explanation for this,” Percy said, “I swear.”

“Percy!” Beckendorf grinned.

A bunch of other kids crowded around him and clapped him on the back. Glenn bared his teeth in a smile that said if he ever did that again he’d be wrapped in bubble-wrap and trapped. Will seemed to be making the same expression.

There were a few curses from the Ares cabin, but Clarisse just rolled her eyes, like she couldn’t believe they’d even thought he hadn’t survived.

Chiron cantered over and everyone made way for him.

“Well,” he sighed with obvious relief. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been happier to see a camper return. But you must tell me—”

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Annabeth interrupted, shoving aside the other campers.

She hugged him so fiercely she nearly cracked his ribs.

The other campers fell silent.

Annabeth seemed to realize she was making a scene and pushed him away. “We thought you were dead! You said you would be okay!”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I kinda…blew up a volcano?”

Annabeth made a furious noise in the back of her throat.

“Oh we know,” Travis assured. He was smiling, but there was an obvious look of relief in his eyes.

“It’s been on the news for a few days,” Connor finished, leaning on his brother.

“Two weeks,” Annabeth muttered. “Two weeks.”

She was practically foaming at the mouth.

“Annabeth,” Chiron interrupted. “Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private, shall we? The rest of you, back to your normal activities!”

Without waiting for them to protest, he picked up Annabeth and Percy as easily as if they were small leopard kittens, slung them both on his back, and galloped off toward the Big House.

Percy waved as he went.

Clarisse flipped him off in reply, which was the sweetest thing she’d ever done.

When they arrived, Percy happily took one of the plush armchairs.

Galázia curled by his feet, nipping at his heels in what felt like admonishment.

“Nice to see you too,” Percy murmured, scratching the cat’s head.

He explained how he’d caused the explosion at Mount St. Helens and got blasted out of the volcano. He told them he’d been marooned on an island, where Calypso had tried to take care of him. How he had fled. Then how Hephaestus found him and helped him to the water, where his father took him to Atlantis.

“You’ve been gone two weeks.” Annabeth’s voice was steadier now, but she still looked pretty shaken up. “When I heard the explosion, I thought—”

“I know,” Percy said. “I’m sorry. I was unconscious for nearly all of it. I only woke up a few hours ago. How did you find your way out?”

“Hephaestus actually helped me.” She sniffed. “He brought your bag too, but he didn’t say anything about you being alive…”

“It was…” Percy tried to find the right words. “It was touch and go for a while, I think. Not even the water was healing me entirely. What I did…well…”

He shuddered. “I get the feeling if I do it again that way I won’t be waking up.”

“Best not too,” Chiron agreed grimly. “From the sound of it, you used too much power which you weren’t prepared for. If even the water could not heal you, your divinity must have been holding on by a single string. Had it snapped…Well, my boy, I am just glad you are here to tell the tale.”

Percy nodded. “And now that we’re out,” Percy said, “we can do what we need too.”

Chiron looked at them curiously. Percy explained what they had learned from Hera, what she had said, and what Percy believed.

“A clear-sighted mortal,” Chiron murmured. “Yes…it makes perfect sense. And you know where one is? One willing to help?”

“I believe so,” Percy said, “but…”

He looked at Annabeth.

“This is your quest,” he said. “The decision is up to you.”

She was quiet.

“I…” She started. “I guess we do need help, even if it’s from a mortal…”

Chiron nearly beamed.

He said, “In the morning I will have Argus take the two of you into Manhattan. You might stop by your mother’s, Percy. She is…understandably distraught.”

Percy winced.

Annabeth stood. “I need time to think,” she announced. She glared at Percy. “Don’t go off exploding any more volcanoes.”

“Ah,” Percy said when she was gone. “She’s furious.”

“It is understandable,” Chiron said. “Camp has…not been the same, Percy. Truly, you bring it a new sort of feeling.”

Percy looked at him curiously, but he did not expand on his words. Percy instead asked, “Have you heard anything from Grover and Tyson?”

“We have not, my boy.” Chiron gazed into the empty fireplace. “Juniper is quite distressed. All her branches are turning yellow. The Council of Cloven Elders had revoked Grover’s searcher license in absentia. Assuming he comes back alive, they will force him into a shameful exile.”

He sighed over Percy’s growl.

“Grover and Tyson are very resourceful, however. We can still hope.”

“The empathy link has yet to tell me they’re in danger,” Percy said. “I have to trust that. I’m going to trust that.”

“Grover has his own destiny,” Chiron agreed, “and Tyson was brave to follow him.”

Percy stared at him. “There is something else, isn’t there?” He asked. “What is it?”

“Two unpleasant things.”

“Great.”

“Chris Rodriguez, who I’ve no doubt you know is here…”

Percy tensed. “Is he dead?”

“Not yet,” Chiron said grimly. “But he’s much worse. He’s in the infirmary now, too weak to move. I had to order Clarisse back to her regular schedule because she was at his bedside constantly. He doesn’t respond to anything. He won’t take food or drink. None of my medicines help. He has simply lost the will to live.”

Percy frowned. Clarisse would be so distraught…She’d tried so hard to help him.

“I’m sorry to say,” Chiron continued, “the other news is less pleasant still. Quintus has disappeared.”

He looked up. “Disappeared? How?”

“Three nights ago he slipped into the Labyrinth. Juniper watched him go. It appears your feelings of wariness towards him may have been right.”

“Possibly,” Percy murmured. He told Chiron about the Triple G Ranch—how Quintus must have bought his scorpions there and Geryon had been supplying the Titan-King’s army.

“It can’t be a coincidence.” Chiron sighed heavily. “So many betrayals. I had hoped Quintus would prove a friend. It seems my judgment was wrong.”

“What about Mrs. O’Leary?” Percy asked. “She didn’t follow him, did she?”

“Your hellhound is still in the arena.”

Percy sighed in relief. He may have wanted her to watch Quintus, but the Labyrinth was no friendly place.

“Now, you should prepare yourself for the morning. You and Annabeth still have much to do.”

Percy left him in his wheelchair, staring sadly into the fireplace.

He wondered how many times Chiron had sat there, waiting for heroes that never came back.

Before dinner he stopped by the sword arena. Sure enough, Mrs. O’Leary was curled up in an enormous black furry mound in the middle of the stadium, chewing halfheartedly on the head of a warrior dummy.

“Hey, girl,” Percy called.

Her head whipped up. She barked and came bounding toward him.

He had just enough time to say, “Whoa!” before she bowled him over and started licking his face.

“Hello!” He laughed. “Yes, I missed you, too!”

Eventually he managed to get her off him. He scratched her ears and found her an extra-gigantic dog biscuit.

“I’m glad you didn’t follow,” he murmured. “The Labyrinth is a dangerous place; I don’t want you to get hurt.”

A hint of boar hit the air.

“I can’t believe you and that dog.”

Clarisse was standing at the other end of the arena with her sword and shield.

“Came here to practice yesterday,” she grumbled. “Dog tried to chew me up.”

“She’s an intelligent dog,” Percy teased.

“Funny.”

She walked toward them. Mrs. O’Leary growled, but Percy patted her on the head and calmed her down.

“Stupid hellhound,” Clarisse said. “Not going to keep me from practicing.”

“I heard about Chris,” Percy said. “I’m sorry.”

Clarisse paced a circle around the arena. When she came to the nearest dummy, she attacked viciously, chopping its head off with a single blow and driving her sword through its guts. She pulled the sword out and kept walking.

“Yeah, well. Sometimes things go wrong.” Her voice was shaky. “Heroes get hurt. They…they die, and the monsters just keep coming back.”

She picked up a javelin and threw it across the arena. It nailed a dummy straight between the eyeholes of its helmet.

She had called Chris a hero, like he had never gone over to the Titan's side.

It reminded him of the way Annabeth sometimes talked about Luke.

“It shouldn’t be this way,” Percy said. “Chris was brave. I hope he gets better.”

She glared at him as if he were her next target, but there was no real heat in it.

“Hope,” she muttered.

For a second she reminded Percy of Eurytion. She had the same hard look in her eyes, as if she’d been used for the past two thousand years and was getting tired of it.

She sheathed her sword.

“Hope,” she said again. “Sure. Practice time is over, Percy. From now on, it’s for real.”

After dinner, he was ambushed by a group of furious siblings in his cabin. Even Nico was there, sternly glaring at him.

“Ah,” Percy said. He shut the door behind him. “Hello my lovely, beautiful siblings.”

“You,” Thalia hissed. She latched onto him with no intent to let go. “How dare you try to die!”

“I wasn’t trying,” Percy protested.

She threw him over her shoulder like he was a sack of potatoes.

“I wasn’t!” He told Bianca, who was staring at him with an unimpressed expression.

She looked much like her father in that moment, with one eyebrow arched and her lips set in a firm line. Her arms were crossed over her chest as they moved to Percy’s room.

“Sure felt like it,” Nico muttered darkly, following after Bianca. “A whole volcano. And you call me reckless.”

Thalia threw him down on his bed and then he was surrounded. Bianca took his left, while Thalia plopped down on his right.

Nico just threw himself on top of them, sprawling out.

“How are you all even here?” Percy muttered.

Nico raised his head and gave him the same unimpressed look Bianca had.

“Artemis let us visit,” Bianca explained primly. “She said she was quite familiar with siblings being, what were her exact words again? Oh yes, ‘stupid and careless with their health.’”

Percy grumbled.

“Η μητριά μου kept me updated,” Nico said. “Of course we’d be here.”

“Where else would we be?” Thalia snapped. “Do you know how terrible that was?”

Percy winced. “Sorry,” he offered weakly. “Are you all okay?”

Nico buried his face into Percy’s chest. Thalia’s hands enclosed around his right bicep. Bianca curled even closer.

“That was awful,” Bianca murmured quietly. “Truly. The bond stretched and nearly snapped. We could…feel you fading. It was like you were falling through our hands and we couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Awful,” Nico repeated, his voice muffled.

Thalia sniffed.

“I’m sorry,” Percy said again. He wrapped his left arm around Bianca and kissed Thalia’s forehead.

Nico wiggled until he was curled in the small space between Bianca and Percy.

Somehow, he managed to get the blanket over them.

They said nothing; they didn’t need to. With his siblings around him, Percy fell asleep.

And he dreamed.

He was in a king’s courtroom—a big white chamber with marble columns and a wooden throne.

Sitting on it was a plump guy with curly red hair and a crown of laurels. At his side stood three girls who looked like his daughters. They all had his red hair and were dressed in blue robes.

The doors creaked open and a herald announced, “Minos, King of Crete!”

Percy tensed, but the man on the throne just smiled at his daughters. “I can't wait to see the expression on his face.”

Minos swept into the room. He was so tall and serious he made the other king look silly. Minos’s pointed beard had gone gray. He looked thinner than the last time Percy had dreamed of him, and his sandals were splattered with mud, but the same cruel light shined in his eyes.

He bowed stiffly to the man on the throne. “King Cocalus. I understand you have solved my little riddle?”

Cocalus smiled. “Hardly little, Minos. Especially when you advertise across the world that you are willing to pay a thousand gold talents to the one who can solve it. Is the offer genuine?”

Minos clapped his hands. Two buff guards walked in, struggling with a big wooden crate. They set it at Cocalus’s feet and opened it. Stacks of gold bars glittered.

Cocalus whistled appreciatively. “You must have bankrupted your kingdom for such a reward, my friend.”

“That is not your concern.”

Cocalus shrugged. “The riddle was quite simple, really. One of my retainers solved it.”

“Father,” one of the girls warned. She looked like the oldest—a little taller than her sisters.

Cocalus ignored her.

He took a spiral seashell from the folds of his robe. A silver string had been threaded through it, so it hung like a huge bead on a necklace.

Minos stepped forward and took the shell.

“One of your retainers, you say? How did he thread the string without breaking the shell?”

“He used an ant, if you can believe it. Tied a silk string to the little creature and coaxed it through the shell by putting honey at the far end.”

“Ingenious man,” Minos said.

“Oh, indeed. My daughters’ tutor. They are quite fond of him.”

Minos’s eyes turned cold. “I would be careful of that.”

Percy sneered at the cruel king.

The red headed king merely chuckled. “Not to worry, Minos. My daughters are wise beyond their years. Now, about my gold—”

“Yes,” Minos said. “But you see the gold is for the man who solved the riddle. And there can be only one such man. You are harboring Daedalus.”

Cocalus shifted uncomfortably on his throne. “How is it that you know his name?”

“He is a thief,” Minos said. “He once worked in my court, Cocalus. He turned my own daughter against me. He helped a usurper make a fool of me in my own palace. And then he escaped justice. I have been pursuing him for ten years.”

“I knew nothing of this. But I have offered the man my protection. He has been a most useful—”

“I offer you a choice,” Minos said. “Turn over the fugitive to me, and this gold is yours. Or risk making me your enemy. You do not want Crete as your enemy.”

Cocalus paled.

He was a weak king, Percy understood then.

Minos only had two guards. But Cocalus just sat there sweating on his own throne.

“Father,” his oldest daughter said, “you can’t—”

“Silence, Aelia.” Cocalus twisted his beard. He looked again at the glittering gold. “This pains me, Minos. The gods do not love a man who breaks his oath of hospitality.”

“The gods do not love those who harbor criminals, either.”

Cocalus nodded. “Very well. You shall have your man in chains.”

“Father!” Aelia said again. Then she caught herself, and changed her voice to a sweeter tone. “At—at least let us feast our guest first. After his long journey, he should be treated to a hot bath, new clothes, and a decent meal. I would be honored to draw the bath myself.”

She smiled prettily at Minos, and the old king grunted. “I suppose a bath would not be amiss.”

He looked at Cocalus.

“I will see you at dinner, my lord. With the prisoner.”

“This way, Your Majesty,” said Aelia.

She and her sisters led Minos out of the chamber.

Percy followed them into a bath chamber decorated with mosaic tiles.

Steam filled the air.

A running-water faucet poured hot water into the tub.

Aelia and her sisters filled it with rose petals and something that caused the water to foam. The girls turned aside as Minos dropped his robes and slipped into the bath.

“Ahh.” He smiled. “An excellent bath. Thank you, my dears. The journey has been long indeed.”

“You have been chasing your prey for ten years, my lord?” Aelia asked, batting her eyelashes. “You must be very determined.”

“I never forget a debt.” Minos grinned. “Your father was wise to agree to my demands.”

“Oh, indeed, my lord!” Aelia said.

Aelia’s sisters trickled scented oil over the king’s head.

“You know, my lord,” Aelia said, “Daedalus thought you would come. He thought the riddle might be a trap, but he couldn’t resist solving it.”

Minos frowned. “Daedalus spoke to you about me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“He is a bad man, princess. My own daughter fell under his spell. Do not listen to him.”

“He is a genius,” Aelia said. “And he believes a woman is just as smart as a man. He was the first to ever teach us as if we had minds of our own. Perhaps your daughter felt the same way.”

Minos tried to sit up, but Aelia’s sisters pushed him back into the water. Aelia came up behind him. She held three tiny orbs in her palm. At first Percy thought they were bath beads. But she threw them in the water and the beads sprouted bronze threads that began wrapping around the king, tying him up at the ankles, binding his wrists to his sides, circling his neck.

Percy could appreciate the ingenuity.

Minos thrashed and cried out, but the girls were much stronger. Soon he was helpless, lying in the bath with his chin just above the water. The bronze strands were still wrapping around him like a cocoon, tightening across his body.

“What do you want?” Minos demanded. “Why do you do this?”

Aelia smiled. “Daedalus has been kind to us, Your Majesty. And I do not like you threatening our father.”

“You tell Daedalus,” Minos growled. “You tell him I will hound him even after death! If there is any justice in the Underworld, my soul will haunt him for eternity!”

“Brave words, Your Majesty,” Aelia said. “I wish you luck finding your justice in the Underworld.”

And with that, the bronze threads wrapped around Minos’s face, making him a bronze mummy.

The door of the bathhouse opened.

Daedalus stepped in, carrying a traveler’s bag.

He’d trimmed his hair short. His beard was pure white. He looked frail and sad, but he reached down and touched the mummy’s forehead. The threads unraveled and sank to the bottom of the tub.

There was nothing inside them. It was as if King Minos had just dissolved.

“A painless death,” Daedalus mused. “More than he deserved. Thank you, my princesses.”

Aelia hugged him. “You cannot stay here, teacher. When our father finds out—”

“Yes,” Daedalus said. “I fear I have brought you trouble.”

“Oh, do not worry for us. Father will be happy enough taking that old man’s gold. And Crete is a very long way away. But he will blame you for Minos’s death. You must flee to somewhere safe.”

“Somewhere safe,” the old man repeated. “For years I have fled from kingdom to kingdom, looking for somewhere safe. I fear Minos told the truth. Death will not stop him from hounding me. There is no place under the sun that will harbor me, once word of this crime gets out.”

“Then where will you go?” Aelia said.

“A place I swore never to enter again,” Daedalus said. “My prison may be my only sanctuary.”

“I do not understand,” Aelia said.

“It’s best you did not.”

“But what of the Underworld?” One of her sisters asked. “Terrible judgment will await you! Every man must die.”

“Perhaps,” Daedalus said. Then he brought a scroll from his traveling bag—the same scroll Percy had seen in his last dream, with his nephew's notes.

He bared his teeth at the man for the reminder.

“Or perhaps not.”

He patted Aelia’s shoulder, then blessed her and her sisters.

He looked down once more at the coppery threads glinting in the bottom of the bath.

“Find me if you dare, king of the ghosts.”

He turned toward the mosaic wall and touched a tile.

A glowing mark appeared—a Greek ∆—and the wall slid aside.

The princesses gasped.

“You never told us of secret passages!” Aelia said. “You have been busy.”

“The Labyrinth has been busy,” Daedalus corrected. “Do not try to follow me, my dears, if you value your sanity.”

His dream shifted.

He was underground in a stone chamber.

Luke and another half-blood warrior were studying a map by flashlight.

Luke cursed. “It should’ve been the last turn.”

He crumpled up the map and tossed it aside.

“Sir!” His companion protested.

“Maps are useless here,” Luke said. “Don’t worry. I’ll find it.”

“Sir, is it true that the larger the group—”

“The more likely you get lost? Yes, that’s true. Why do you think we sent out solo explorers to begin with? But don’t worry. As soon as we have the thread, we can lead the vanguard through.”

“But how will we get the thread?”

Luke stood, flexing his fingers. “Oh, Quintus will come through. All we have to do is reach the arena, and it’s at the juncture. Impossible to get anywhere without passing it. That’s why we must have a truce with its master. We just have to stay alive until—”

“Sir!” A new voice came from the corridor.

Another guy in Greek armor ran forward, carrying a torch. “The dracaenae found a half-blood!”

Luke scowled. “Alone? Wandering the maze?”

“Yes, sir! You’d better come quick. They’re in the next chamber. They’ve got him cornered.”

“Who is it?”

“No one I’ve ever seen before, sir.”

Luke nodded. “A blessing from Kronos. We may be able to use this half blood. Come!”

They ran down the corridor, and Percy woke with a start, staring into the dark.

A lone half-blood, wandering in the maze.

Nico was gone.

Nico was gone.

It was a long time before he got to sleep again.

The next morning, he shared his dreams with Bianca and Thalia, and where he was sure Nico had gone.

“That stupid boy,” Bianca cursed.

Her eyes were red. She had not been pleased to find him gone, and even more displeased when Percy had told his story.

“Minos,” she said, “curse him!”

It was the most furious he had seen her. She was usually the calm one, or at least, the hardest to anger.

Her tail was puffed up and swung behind her in irritation, and her ears twitched to the gentle sound of water falling in the background.

“We can’t interfere,” Thalia said grimly. “The prophecy, it has to mean him, right? ‘...the ghost king's hands…’ I can’t imagine Minos would ever help us. And Nico wouldn’t—he wouldn’t—”

“We have to trust him.” Percy took their hands in his. “And I am going in after him.”

Bianca sniffed. She looked at Thalia.

She said, “We really did get the most worrisome brothers.”

Thalia nodded solemnly.

Percy grumbled at them.

They wished him well—which was really Thalia threatening him about not doing something stupid again—and sent him off with his backpack.

Annabeth and he didn’t speak much in the van, though Percy made sure to mention his dream about Nico.

Annabeth’s jaw clenched when he was done. “That’s very, very bad.”

It was Saturday, and traffic was heavy going into the city. They arrived at Sally’s apartment around noon. When she answered the door, she gave him a hug so tight it could have rivaled Thalia’s stress grip.

“I’m glad your father kept me updated,” she murmured. “Though I’ve never seen him so…frightened.”

Annabeth made a noise in her throat.

“Yeah.” Percy tugged at his sweater. “We talked about it.”

She let out a great sigh after his story.

“A mythical monster only taken down by the God-King himself, kidnapped sea deities, a stable with fluffy cows and man-heating horses, a sphinx, Mount St. Helens exploding, and you almost dying…”

“That’s about it,” Percy confirmed. “Sorry,” he added at her admonishing expression.

“And now?” She asked. “What will you do now?”

“We need a clear-sighted mortal,” Annabeth explained, “Percy thinks they can navigate the maze.”

His mom took a sip of her tea. “It would make sense,” she murmured more to herself. “The story of Ariadne, after all…”

“Exactly.” Percy nodded. “Do you still have Rachel’s number?”

“In the phone-book, dear.”

Percy left her there with Annabeth, sending her a purposeful look and gesturing towards Annabeth.

I got her, his mom’s eyes said.

Percy went to the living room and dug out their special ‘phone-book.’ It looked like any other phone book, except the numbers inside weren’t the numbers one would find anywhere else.

It held the numbers to her group.

He flipped through it to the newest page, where several new names had already been added.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

The phone rang only twice, and then a tinny voice answered: “The Dare Household is not accepting phone calls right now, please leave your name and message after the beep…”

Percy snorted.

“I guess you don’t want to join me on an adventure,” he said teasingly.

There was scrambling over the phone, like someone had answered it laying down and had knocked over everything sitting up.

“Percy!” Rachel’s voice came through. “No no no, I absolutely want an adventure, don't you dare hang up!”

“Thought so,” he said in amusem*nt. “Though you might not want to join after I explain everything.”

He explained everything they knew, and how they thought she could help.

“...It’s dangerous?” She asked when he was done.

“Yeah.”

“I could die?”

“I will do everything in my power to prevent that but…yeah.”

There was no answer.

“You don’t have to,” Percy assured, “seriously. This isn’t contingent on anything; you refusing isn’t going to stop us from being friends.”

“I’ll do it.”

Percy blinked.

“I don’t…have a lot of friends.”

“That’s a tragedy,” he announced. “And that settles it, we’re absolutely friends now. No take backsies.”

There was slight laughter on the other end.

“So how do we find an entrance?”

Percy hummed in thought. “It’ll take us too long to get back to camp,” he said thoughtfully, “there has to be one nearby. We’re looking for something with the mark of Daedalus on it. A Greek Delta, which glows in blue.”

“Delta?” She repeated. “Wait, let me…check online and…”

“Rachel?”

“I know where an entrance is,” she said, sounding slightly surprised. “Can you meet me at Marriott Marquis, the one in Times Square?”

He confirmed. “And Rachel?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure to pack a bag with some water and food…and thanks.”

“We’re friends now,” she said, “no take backsies.”

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

“Percy!”

Percy jogged up to the red-head, matching her grin.

“What’s up?” He asked.

She was wearing a ratty Museum of Modern Art T-shirt and her regular marker-colored jeans, a blue plastic hairbrush sticking out of her pocket. There was a ruck-sack at her feet, with a water bottle clipped to the top strap and a flashlight in the side pocket. Her red hair was tied back, but she had flecks of gold in it, and traces of the gold glitter on her face.

“Whoa,” he said, “did someone puke gold on you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha,” she said. “It was for a donation event.”

“The Urban Art for Kids, right?”

She confirmed, then added slyly, “You should join sometimes, we’ll even paint you in blue.”

“Me?” He asked, “sitting still? You saw me in the gym—I’d need a miracle.”

She laughed at him.

Annabeth cleared her throat and Percy took the hint.

“Rachel,” he gestured to Annabeth, “this is Annabeth Chase, friend and leader of this quest.”

“Annabeth,” he said, “this is Rachel Elizabeth Dare, friend and clear sighted mortal.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rachel said, and stuck her hand out.

It glittered gold in the sunlight, and Annabeth looked down at it with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” Rachel said sheepishly, rubbing her hand on her jeans and leaving a palm-sized streak of gold, “sometimes the stuff doesn’t want to come off.”

Percy snickered.

“Any-ways,” Rachel said, dragging out the word. “This way.”

She led them to the laundry room of the hotel, where there was a metal door half hidden behind a laundry bin full of dirty hotel towels. He didn’t see anything strange about it, but Rachel showed him where to look, and he recognized the faint blue symbol etched in the metal.

“It hasn’t been used in a long time,” Annabeth said.

“I tried to open it once,” Rachel said, “just out of curiosity. It’s rusted shut.”

“No.” Annabeth stepped forward. “It just needs the touch of a half-blood.”

Sure enough, as soon as Annabeth put her hand on the mark, it glowed blue.

The metal door unsealed and creaked open, revealing a dark staircase leading down.

The Labyrinth cooed in greeting.

“Wow.”

Rachel looked calm, but Percy could smell her nerves. He nudged her shoulder in support and took point, with her behind him and Annabeth last.

The stairs led down to a large brick tunnel that lacked lights.

He flicked on his flashlight, and the girls followed.

Rachel yelped.

A skeleton was grinning at them, except it wasn’t human. It was huge—at least ten feet tall. It had been strung up, chained by its wrists and ankles so it made a kind of giant X over the tunnel.

And its face…

“A Cyclops,” Annabeth said. “It’s very old. It’s not…anybody we know.”

Rachel swallowed. “You have a friend who’s a Cyclops?”

“Tyson,” I said. “My half brother.”

“Your half brother.”

Her green eyes shifted to him and he grinned back.

“A clue,” she murmured to herself, and his grin grew wider.

“Hopefully we’ll find him down here,” Percy said. “And Grover. He’s a satyr.”

“A satyr,” she repeated. “Well then, we’d better keep moving.”

She stepped past Percy and under the skeleton’s left arm and kept walking.

They followed Rachel deeper into the maze.

After fifty feet they came to a crossroads. Ahead, the brick tunnel continued. To the right, the walls were made of ancient marble slabs. To the left, the tunnel was dirt and tree roots.

Percy gestured left. “That looks like the tunnel Tyson and Grover took, but it doesn’t smell like them.”

Annabeth frowned. “The architecture to the right—those old stones—that’s more likely to lead to an ancient part of the maze, toward Daedalus’s workshop.”

“We need to go straight,” Rachel announced.

They both looked at her.

“That’s the least likely choice,” Annabeth said.

“Clear sighted, remember?” Rachel asked. “There’s a faint brightness on the floor, like a pathway. Forward is the correct way. To the left, farther down the tunnel, those tree roots are moving like feelers. I don’t like that. To the right, there’s a trap about twenty feet down. Holes in the walls, maybe for spikes. I don’t think we should risk it.”

Percy nodded. “Okay. Forward.”

“You believe her?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah,” Percy said. “Don’t you?”

Annabeth looked like she wanted to argue, but she waved at Rachel to lead on.

Together they kept walking down the brick corridor. It twisted and turned, but there were no more side tunnels. They seemed to be angling down, heading deeper underground.

“No traps?” Annabeth asked anxiously.

“Nothing.” Rachel knit her eyebrows. “Should it be this easy?”

“It never was before,” Percy said. “But we didn’t have you…”

“So, Rachel,” Annabeth said after a few more minutes of walking, “where are you from, exactly?”

“Brooklyn,” Rachel answered.

“Aren’t your parents going to be worried if you’re out late?”

Rachel exhaled. “Not likely. I could be gone a week and they’d never notice.”

“Why not?” Annabeth’s tone lightened.

Before Rachel could answer, there was a creaking noise in front of them, like huge doors opening.

“What was that?” Annabeth asked.

“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “Metal hinges.”

“Oh, that’s very helpful. I mean, what is it?”

Then he heard heavy footsteps shaking the corridor—coming toward them.

“Run?” Percy asked.

“Run,” Rachel agreed.

They turned and fled the way they’d come, but they didn’t make it twenty feet before they ran straight into trouble.

Two dracaenae—snake women in Greek armor—leveled their javelins at their chests.

Percy lunged at one, Riptide already in hand, and swung. The smell of owl told him Annabeth had gotten the other.

They kept running, except—

“What?!” Rachel questioned, right as a wall formed in the middle of the hall, cutting off the path back.

Percy recapped his sword. “It looks like we don’t have a choice,” he said grimly. He looked at Rachel. “No other paths?”

She glanced around, then shook her head. “Not a single one,” she said, “or at least, not a single one except the one back that way.”

“Then that way it is,” Annabeth said.

They returned back down the way, but slowly.

The door was opened this time; it revealed a dimly lit hallway carved out of the rock.

“I don’t like this,” Rachel muttered. “A maze is supposed to have…pathways and side-paths—things to distract you and turn you around. The only time a maze is like this is in the beginning or…”

Annabeth breathed, “At the end.” Excitement entered her voice. “Do you think this is it?”

“Let’s take it slow,” Percy interjected. “This could be another trap. I don’t hear those steps anymore, but it smells like a lot of monsters up there.”

Annabeth nodded slowly, and her excitement seemed to die back down. She tilted her head.

“I can hear them,” she said. “There’s a lot of voices and they seem to be…cheering?”

“Joy,” Percy muttered. “Can’t wait.”

They continued to follow the path down until they came to another door. This one was a bronze door. They were about ten feet tall, emblazoned with a pair of crossed swords. From behind the doors came a muffled roar, like from a crowd.

“This is getting worse by the moment,” Percy muttered. “I’m getting ‘arena,’ is this giving anyone else ‘arena’?”

“Too much,” Annabeth agreed. “Come on, let’s go this way.”

There were paths on either side of the door, leading further off into the dark.

Rachel nodded, and they took the left path. It curved around the wall the door had been on. Soon, there were splatters of light, and the noise was even louder, and then—

“Feet!” Rachel hissed near silently.

“We must be under a stadium,” Annabeth breathed. “There…has to be a way up somehow.”

“Shhhh,” Percy ushered. “Look.”

The dirt floor was circular, just big enough that one could drive a car around the rim if they pulled it really tight. In the center of the arena, a fight was going on between a giant and a centaur. The centaur looked panicked. He was galloping around his enemy, using sword and shield, while the giant swung a javelin the size of a telephone pole and the crowd cheered.

They were looking between the legs of monsters and demigods.

Rachel wasn’t the only one to turn her head when the centaur got caught.

They kept moving, and eventually came to a spiral staircase.

“This is about to get interesting,” Percy muttered, and went up first.

The stairs went up, up, up, over the sound of cheering and roars of a crowd, till it opened to a large balcony.

It was empty, but there was a chair for a giant in the center, seemingly built out of skulls.

“There’s nowhere to go,” Annabeth hissed.

“The walls are smooth,” Rachel agreed. “Except…there’s a slight glow here, as if the wall can open up. But I can’t see anything that would open it.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Percy said after a moment, “but it’s kinda stupid.”

The girls were silent, each staring at him with blank looks.

Annabeth sighed. “You’ve got that look in your eye,” she said almost mournfully.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything else to do,” Rachel murmured. She crossed her arms and gave him a curious look. “Go for it,” she said. Then she smirked, “Son of Poseidon.”

Percy grinned at them both, then turned on his heel and walked to the edge of the balcony, where he could look over the arena.

The first tier of seats was twelve feet above the arena floor. Plain stone benches wrapped all the way around, and every seat was full. There were giants, dracaenae, demigods, a few telekhines, and stranger things: bat-winged demons and creatures that seemed half human and half you name it—bird, reptile, insect, mammal.

But the weirdest things were the skulls.

The arena was full of them. They ringed the edge of the railing. Three-foot-high piles of them decorated the steps between the benches. They grinned from pikes at the back of the stands and hung on chains from the ceiling like horrible chandeliers.

Some of them looked very old—nothing but bleached-white bone.

Others looked a lot fresher.

In the middle of all this, proudly displayed on the balcony across the way, was a green banner with the trident of Poseidon in the center.

Above the banner, sitting in a seat of honour, was an old enemy.

“Luke,” Percy said.

Well, if that didn’t cement what he was going to do.

He cleared his throat. “Hail!” He said, and his voice carried.

Behind him, both Annabeth and Rachel gasped in surprise.

The arena fell dead silent. Eyes, innumerable and glinting, turned to face him. Percy met the eyes of the giant within the arena, noting that he was not the same one as before.

The fight must have ended when they were climbing the stairs.

This giant was fifteen feet tall. He wore only a loincloth. His skin was dark red and tattooed with blue wave designs.

He smelled like the earth and the sea wrapped into one. Something about him called to Percy, the same way Procrustes had, the same way Charbydis and Scylla had, the same way Polyphemus had.

Ah, he thought, even better.

Percy hardened his eyes and set his chin. “I wish to meet my brother,” he said, “the great Antaeus.”

“Oh ho?” The giant in the arena said. “And who dares claim me so.”

Percy smiled with all his teeth, and Antaeus grinned back just the same.

“I am Perseus Jackson, Son of Poseidon, and I demand an audience with you.”

Across the way, Luke jumped up from his chair in outrage, shouting “Lord Antaeus!”, but the giant paid him no mind.

He threw his head back and laughed, a rough, loud noise which nearly shook the walls. “How bold!” He said, “a fitting attribute for one of our father. I will speak with you; I am interested in the child my siblings have so crooned about.”

“But first,” the giant grinned, exposing his own sharp, large teeth, “I must deal with this…”

The gates opened across the arena, and this time a young warrior came out. He was a little older than Percy, about sixteen. He had glossy black hair, and his left eye was covered with an eye patch. He was thin and wiry so his Greek armor hung on him loosely. He stabbed his sword into the dirt, adjusted his shield straps, and pulled on his horsehair helmet.

“Oh?” Percy arched an eyebrow at Antaeus, “you find him worthy enough to fight you?”

Antaeus paused.

“I have already fought him.” Percy sniffed. “He was not an impressive opponent, too fond of running, you see.”

Ethan finally seemed to notice him, and he looked nearly stunned for a moment before anger and embarrassment took it over.

If you want to live, Ethan Nakamura, Percy thought, and gave Ethan a hard look. You’ll keep your mouth shut.

Ethan’s face shuddered.

“Oh?” Antaeus said. “How disappointing. Son of Hermes! Is this truly all you have?”

He waved Ethan away, and thankfully the boy didn’t argue. He retreated back through the gates, looking stunned.

Across the way, Luke’s jaw tightened. He despised being named in relation to Hermes. But he rose calmly to his feet. His eyes glittered.

“Lord Antaeus,” Luke said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You have been an excellent host! We would be happy to amuse you, to repay the favor of passing through your territory.”

“A favor I have not yet granted,” Antaeus growled. “I want entertainment! Better entertainment than what you have given me.”

Luke bowed.

“Perhaps,” Percy said slyly, “he picks his best and we discuss while they fight.”

He didn’t need an excellent sense of smell to pick up on Luke’s fury.

Antaeus’ eyes lit up.

“Do so!” He boomed to Luke. Then, to Percy he said, “I will be with you shortly.”

Percy tilted his head. “I await you.”

It did not take long for Antaeus to arrive on the balcony. He came from the wall opposite Rachel had pointed out.

It folded back and allowed him through.

“And who are these females?” He rumbled, dismissing them easily after looking them over.

“My advisors,” Percy said easily. “They give me wise counsel.”

Antaeus took the throne, and gestured for him to take the seat of honour.

Luke had chosen his opponents: a manticore and a creature Percy didn’t recognise but which was foaming at the mouth for the fight.

“Did you build this arena?” Percy asked curiously.

“Indeed!” Antaeus smiled. Up close, his teeth were yellow and even sharper than down below. “Behold, my temple to the Earthshaker, built from the skulls of all those I’ve killed in his name! I am his favorite son!”

“Is that so?” Percy murmured. “And this audience you have found?”

Antaeus waved a large hand. “The Son of Hermes wishes passage through my arena, but that is not free.”

Behind them, Percy heard Annabeth breathe in sharply at the name. She would no doubt be peering over the high wall for the other.

“It should not be,” Percy agreed, refocusing on Antaeus. “They must pay homage to our father, either through worship or sacrifice.”

“Exactly.” Antaeus looked quite pleased that Percy got it. “And you? How would you pay homage? Should I not spill your blood?”

Sea salt caramel twisted around him in warning, though Antaeus could not understand it: Do not.

“I pay homage to our father by journeying here,” Percy lied. “He has sent me on a quest, you see. Glory for the family…”

“Is glory to His name,” Antaeus finished. “I do see. Those words are carved above his office door.”

The crowd cheered. Percy glanced to the arena floor.

The weird foaming mouth creature had laid a heavy hit on the manticore.

“A weak manticore,” Percy said. “Pity. I met one before, you know, and he was quite the opponent.”

“Another!” Antaeus called across the way. “Choose another to beat this creature; Someone stronger!”

“I suppose,” Antaeus said to Percy when Luke reluctantly bowed, “that you will be needing passage through.”

Percy shrugged. “That is up to you,” he said. “I have come here, and so the quest is complete. You know how father is with quests, though. I could do what he asked to the letter, or I could do even more.”

“Twice the glory.” Antaeus grinned at the thought. “Yes, yes. Bold and willing, good qualities. I see why my sisters do so find you interesting.”

“I will let you through,” Antaeus continued. “I have no wish to join Procrustes in his reforming, nor Polyphemus in his pity party.”

Percy grinned with shark teeth. “That makes you the better brother,” he gleefully informed him.

Antaeus laughed.

He waved his hand, and the wall Rachel had pointed out folded open to reveal a dimly lit corridor.

Annabeth and Rachel scrambled up and through.

Percy followed at more of a stroll. He paused just in the entrance.

“Also,” he said, “if you’ll excuse me the questioning…”

“Is there any glory in winning a game you’ve already beaten?” He asked. “And furthermore,” he added when Antaeus only stared at him, “has ο πατέρας μας ever answered your sacrifices?”

“If you are his favourite son,” Percy further challenged, “then why has he never visited?”

The sea salt caramel swirled around Percy in amusem*nt, watching him prod and poke Antaeus in making his own conclusions.

It had kept close ever since Percy had announced himself, a soothing presence to his nerves.

Antaeus said nothing. He waved a hand at him to go, deep in thought.

Percy smirked at the enraged look on Luke’s face.

The wall reformed behind them.

“Percy,” Annabeth breathed.

“That was genius!” Rachel exclaimed. “Like, whoa!”

“It was something,” Annabeth agreed, which was her way of saying, ‘Yeah, it was clever.’

“Come on,” Percy said. “Daedalus’s workshop must be up ahead.”

Annabeth’s eyes lit up. She took point, which would’ve been a problem if the path branched anywhere.

Except it didn’t.

“This is so wrong,” Annabeth murmured as they followed the hall.

The rough rock and dirt had turned to a stainless steel hallway. Fluorescent lights glowed from the ceiling. The floor was a metal grate.

“The workshop should be in the oldest section of the maze. This can’t—” She faltered, because they’d arrived at a set of metal double doors.

Percy was sure the Labyrinth was laughing at her.

Inscribed in the steel, at eye level, was a large blue Greek ∆.

“We’re here,” Rachel announced. “Daedalus’s Workshop.”

Annabeth pressed the symbol on the doors and they hissed open.

“So much for ancient architecture,” Percy murmured.

Annabeth scowled.

Together they walked inside.

The first thing that struck them was the daylight—blazing sun coming through giant windows.

The workshop was like an artist’s studio, with thirty-foot ceilings and industrial lighting, polished stone floors, and workbenches along with windows. A spiral staircase led up to a second-story loft. Half a dozen easels displayed hand-drawn diagrams for buildings and machines that looked like Leonardo da Vinci sketches. Several laptop computers were scattered around on the tables. Glass jars of green oil—Greek fire—lined one shelf. There were inventions, too—weird metal machines. One was a bronze chair with a bunch of electrical wires attached to it. In another corner stood a giant metal egg about the size of a man. There was a grandfather clock that appeared to be made entirely of glass, so you could see all the gears turning. And hanging on the wall were several sets of bronze and silver wings.

Annabeth muttered in amazement. She ran to the nearest easel and looked at the sketch. “He’s a genius. Look at the curves on this building!”

“And an artist,” Rachel said in amazement. “These wings are amazing!”

The wings looked more advanced than the ones Percy had seen in his dreams. The feathers were more tightly interwoven. Instead of wax seals, self adhesive strips ran down the sides.

Percy kept his hand on Riptide.

The workshop looked like it had been recently used.

The laptops were running screensavers. A half-eaten blueberry muffin and a coffee cup sat on a workbench.

Percy walked to the window.

He recognized the Rocky Mountains in the distance. They were at least five hundred feet up, and down below a valley spread out, filled with a tumbled collection of red mesas and boulders and spires of stone.

“Where are we?” Percy wondered, “Daedalus? Or would you prefer Quintus?”

“Colorado Springs,” a voice said behind them. “The Garden of the Gods.”

Standing on the spiral staircase above them, with his weapon drawn, was their missing sword master Quintus.

“What?” Annabeth gasped. “But that’s not…”

“Daedalus,” Percy challenged.

Quintus nodded. “Indeed,” he murmured, “how curious that you are able to see me.”

“I see nothing,” Percy answered easily, “you smell and look like no one.”

Quintus’s face tightened.

“You’re Daedalus?” Annabeth asked, hurt creeping into her voice. “But…how? You’re working with the Titan-King?”

“You’re an intelligent girl,” he said. “But you’re wrong. I do not work for the Titan-King, nor for Luke. I work only for myself.”

“Against us,” Percy said bitterly. “I see Perdix’s idea wasn’t impossible, after all.”

Quintus said nothing.

“You’re Daedalus,” Rachel said, “but you apparently don’t look like Daedalus, how?”

Percy answered for him. “An automaton. You made yourself a new body.”

“Percy,” Annabeth said uneasily, “that’s not possible. That—that can’t be an automaton.”

Quintus chuckled darkly. “Do you know what Quintus means, my dear?”

“The fifth, in Latin. But—”

“This is my fifth body.” The swordsman held out his forearm. He pressed his elbow and part of his wrist popped open—a rectangular hatch in his skin. Underneath, bronze gears whirred. Wires glowed.

“Whoa,” Rachel said.

Percy glared at him.

“You found a way to transfer your soul into a machine?” Annabeth said. “That’s…not natural.”

“Oh, I assure you, my dear, it’s still me. I’m still very much Daedalus. Our mother makes sure I never forget that.”

He tugged back the collar of his shirt. At the base of his neck was the mark Percy had felt burned into his skin—the dark shape of a bird.

“A murderer’s brand,” Annabeth said. “For your nephew, Perdix.”

“The boy you pushed off the tower,” Percy said.

Daedalus’s face darkened. “I did not push him. I simply—”

“Made him lose his balance,” Percy said. “Let him die.”

Daedalus gazed out the windows at the purple mountains. “I regret what I did, Percy. I was angry and bitter. But I cannot take it back, and my mother never lets me forget. As Perdix died, she turned him into a small bird—a partridge. She branded the bird’s shape on my neck as a reminder. No matter what body I take, the brand appears on my skin.”

He had the same eyes, Percy realised, the exact same as within the dream, just older. The same intelligence and all the sadness.

Percy averted his eyes. “But why did you come to the camp? Why spy on us?”

“To see if your camp was worth saving. Luke had given me one story. I preferred to come to my own conclusions.”

“Why was it up to you?” Percy questioned. “More children’s lives in your hands…”

“You’ve talked to Luke,” Annabeth said.

Daedalus nodded. He did not answer Percy’s statement.

“Oh, yes. Several times. He is quite persuasive.”

“But now you’ve seen the camp!” Annabeth persisted. “So you know we need your help. You can’t let Luke through the maze!”

Daedalus set his sword on the workbench. “The maze is no longer mine to control, Annabeth. I created it, yes. In fact, it is tied to my life force. But I have allowed it to live and grow on its own. That is the price I paid for privacy.”

“Privacy from what?”

“The gods,” he said. “And death. I have been alive for two millennia, my dear, hiding from death.”

“But how can you hide from Hades?” Percy asked. “Hades is the Lord of the Dead, he knows that you are out here.”

As proof, the air filled with viciously triumphant pomegranates.

“But he does not know everything,” Daedalus said. “Or see everything. You have encountered the gods, Percy. You know this is true. A clever man can hide quite a long time, and I have buried myself very deep. Only my greatest enemy has kept after me, and even him I have thwarted.”

“You mean Minos,” Percy said.

Daedalus nodded. “He hunts for me relentlessly. Now that he is a Judge of the Dead, he would like nothing better than for me to come before him so he can punish me for my crimes. After the daughters of Cocalus killed him, Minos’s ghost began torturing me in my dreams. He promised that he would hunt me down. I did the only thing I could. I retreated from the world completely. I descended into my Labyrinth. I decided this would be my ultimate accomplishment: I would cheat death.”

“And you did,” Annabeth marveled, “for two thousand years.”

She sounded kind of impressed, despite the horrible things Daedalus had done.

“Your quest,” Daedalus said, “oh, it did not matter. I admit, I—I feel guilty.”

Percy stared at him, and his stomach dropped.

“Guilty?” Rachel said.

“Guilty for what?” Annabeth questioned.

Daedalus said, “That your quest would be in vain.”

“What?” Annabeth said. “But you can still help us. You have to! Give us Ariadne’s string so Luke can’t get it.”

“Yes…the string. I told Luke that the eyes of a clear-sighted mortal are the best guide, but he did not trust me. He was so focused on the idea of a magic item. And the string works. It’s not as accurate as your mortal friend here, perhaps. But good enough. Good enough.”

“Where is it?” Annabeth said, her voice tinging with desperation.

Percy closed his eyes.

“With Luke,” Daedalus said sadly. “I’m sorry, my dear. But you are several hours too late. Though he has gotten caught in Antaeus’s maze, he has gotten what he came for.”

“The Titan-King promised me freedom,” Daedalus continued. “Once the Lord of the Dead is overthrown, he will set me over the Underworld. I will reclaim my son Icarus. I will make things right with poor young Perdix. I will see Minos’s soul cast into Tartarus, where it cannot bother me again. And I will no longer have to run from death.”

“That’s your brilliant idea?” Annabeth yelled. “You’re going to let Luke destroy your camp, kill hundreds of demigods, and then attack Olympus? You’re going to bring down the entire world so you can get what you want?”

“Your cause is doomed, my dear. I saw that as soon as I began to work at your camp. There is no way you can hold back the might of the Titan-Lord.”

“That’s not true!” She cried.

“I am doing what I must, my dear. The offer was too sweet to refuse. I’m sorry.”

Annabeth pushed over an easel. Architectural drawings scattered across the floor. “I used to respect you. You were my hero! You—you built amazing things. You solved problems. Now…I don’t know what you are. Children of Athena are supposed to be wise, not just clever. Maybe you are just a machine. You should have died two thousand years ago.”

Daedalus hung his head. “You should go warn your camp. Now that Luke has the string—”

Percy’s head shot up.

“Someone’s coming!” Rachel picked up.

The doors of the workshop burst open, and Nico was pushed inside, his hands in chains. Then a empousa Percy didn’t recognise and two Laistrygonians marched in behind him, followed by the ghost of Minos. He looked almost solid now—a pale bearded king with cold eyes and tendrils of Mist coiling off his robes.

Daedalus’s jaw clenched. He looked at the empousa. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Luke sends his compliments,” the monster said sweetly. She sounded a lot like Kelli. “He thought you might like to see your old employer Minos.”

“This was not part of our agreement,” Daedalus said.

“No indeed,” she said. “But we already have what we want from you, and we have other agreements to honor. Minos required something else from us, in order to turn over this fine young demigod.” She ran a finger under Nico’s chin. “He’ll be quite useful. And all Minos asked in return was your head, old man.”

Nico snapped his mouth at her, but she unfortunately pulled away just in time to avoid getting bit.

Daedalus paled. “Treachery.”

“Get used to it,” the monster said.

“Nico,” Percy said. “Are you okay?”

He nodded morosely. “I—I’m sorry, Percy. Truly.”

Percy glared at the monster. “Where’s Luke? Why isn’t he here?”

The she-demon smiled. “Luke is…busy. He is preparing for the assault. But don’t worry. We have more friends on the way. And in the meantime, I think I’ll have a wonderful snack!” Her hands changed into claws. Her hair burst into flame and her legs turned to their true form—one donkey leg, one bronze.

“Percy,” Rachel whispered, “the wings. Do you think—”

“Get them,” Percy said. “I’ll try to buy you some time.”

Chaos broke loose.

Annabeth and Percy charged at the empousa. The giants came right at Daedalus, but he blew on a Stygian ice whistle he must have been saving.

Somehow, despite them being miles away, Mrs. O’Leary leaped from the shadows and to his defense.

Nico got pushed to the ground and struggled with his chains while the spirit of Minos wailed, “Kill the inventor! Kill him!”

Rachel grabbed the wings off the wall. Nobody paid her any attention. The empousa slashed at Annabeth.

Percy took out the two Laistrygonians, and turned to help Annabeth, but the demon was quick and deadly. She turned over tables, smashed inventions, and wouldn’t let them get close.

He uncapped his water bottle and speared through her torso, allowing Annabeth to jump on her back and finish her off.

Out of the corner of Percy’s eye, he saw Mrs. O’Leary chomp her fangs into a giant’s arm. He wailed in pain and flung her around, trying to shake her. Daedalus grabbed for his sword, but the second giant smashed the workbench with his fist, and the sword went flying.

A clay jar of Greek fire broke on the floor and began to burn, green flames spreading quickly.

“To me!” Minos cried. “Spirits of the dead!”

He raised his ghostly hands and the air began to hum.

“No!” Nico cried. He was on his feet now. He’d somehow managed to remove his shackles.

“You do not control me, young fool,” Minos sneered. “All this time, I have been controlling you! A soul for a soul, yes. But it is not your mother who will return from the dead. It is I, as soon as I slay the inventor!”

Spirits began to appear around Minos—shimmering forms that slowly multiplied, solidifying into Cretan soldiers.

Nico raised his chin, his eyes darkening. “I am the Son of Hades,” he said, his tone darkening. The smell of a freshly-dug grave sharpened. “The claimed Son of Persephone. Be gone!”

Minos laughed. “You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The ghost king!”

“No.” Nico drew his sword. His eyes swirled white and black, but he was not consumed. “I am.”

He stabbed his black blade into the floor, and it cleaved through the stone like butter.

“Never!” Minos’s form rippled. “I will not—”

The ground rumbled. The windows cracked and shattered to pieces, letting in a blast of fresh air.

A fissure opened in the stone floor of the workshop, and Minos and all his spirits were sucked into the void with a horrible wail.

“We need to go!” Percy yelled over the floor crumbling. “There’s more monsters coming!”

“What about Daedalus?” Annabeth questioned.

Mrs. O’Leary and Daedalus were still locked in combat with the giants.

“No time,” Rachel said. “If he’s as smart as his workshop suggests, he’ll figure it out. Come on!”

“Nico!” Percy called. “To me!”

The shadows at his feet spun, and then Nico was at his side. He was pale and shaky.

Rachel had already fitted herself with wings and Percy helped her with Nico. The wings grafted instantly to his back and arms.

“Now you!” She told Percy.

In seconds, they had fitted themselves with coppery wings. Already Percy could feel himself being lifted by the wind coming through the window.

It was an odd feeling, knowing he was about to willingly do something so against his inherent nature.

A bird, indeed.

Greek fire was burning the tables and furniture, spreading up the circular stairs.

“Daedalus!” Percy yelled. “Come on!”

He was cut in a hundred places—but he was bleeding golden oil instead of blood. He’d found his sword and was using part of a smashed table as a shield against the giants.

“Go!” He said. “I have Mrs. O’Leary!”

There was no time to argue.

“None of us know how to fly!” Nico protested weakly.

“Nothing like the present,” Percy said.

And together, the four of them jumped out the window into open sky.