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The Lord of Time

Summary:

As the battle at Mount St. Helens takes an unexpected turn, Percy finds himself cut off from the world he knows. Stranded on a mysterious island, he must learn to survive alongside its guardian, Calypso, as the world beyond shifts in ways he could never imagine. [Roman!Percy]

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: In case you're wondering, I still don't own anything. As much as I'd like to, of course, I'm just playing around with someone else's idea. But, Uncle Rick is good about stuff like this, so…

AN: This is just an idea I've been messing around with for a while. I'm not much for giving up too much too early, but I recognize that this chapter is going to feel very canon-derivative, so all you really need to know is that I'm toying around with the idea of small changes causing ripple effects and that the story is going to be [Percy/Calypso] through and through.

That being said, this story is definitely going to follow canon a little more closely than The Flip of a Coin. And, this version of Percy will be closer to his canon counterpart. Personality-wise, anyway.

The story opens up from the scene on Mount St. Helens in the Battle of the Labyrinth. Enjoy!

P.S. Etko is beta-ing this story, and yes, he's still the best. Shoutout Etko!


The first telekhine scooped some lava out of the nearest furnace. It set his fingers ablaze, but this didn't seem to bother him at all. The other elder telekhines did the same. They began advancing toward me, and if I squinted hard enough, I could pretend they were really ugly seals trying to balance balls on their noses.

"Are we going to see a demigod die?" One of the younger telekhines tittered excitedly. "Oh, oh, can I have his spleen? I've always wanted to eat a human spleen!"

I glared at him, and he yelped. One of the elder telekhines growled protectively, and the group of them that stepped forward began cocking their hands—flippers—back, as if getting ready to throw.

"Truce?" I offered.

"Die, sea spawn!" The first one threw a glop of molten rock at me, which I dodged by rolling out of the way.

"It was worth a shot," I muttered as I stood back up. I loosened Riptide's cap and spun it off, spinning the hilt as the bronze blade sprang to life.

Two of the other telekhines joined in. I ducked under the first blob of lava, and I used Riptide to slash right through another one. Thankfully, the lava wasn't hot enough to completely melt my sword.

This time, all of the elder telekhines chucked lava at me, and eventually, their onslaught set my pants on fire. Pinpricks of pain stabbed through my leg, cutting my mobility down by just enough to let the telekhines heap two more globs of lava across my chest.

I looked down, and for a moment, things were okay. The red splotches reminded me of the one time I went to a paintball tournament at Yancy. Maybe, if I tried hard enough, I could pretend Nancy Bobofit was still trying to get me knocked out, and I wasn't getting lava thrown at me by a bunch of demon dogs.

"You will rue this day, godling!" One of the elder telekhines barked. He slapped his hands together, and a veil of purple magic began forming around his body.

The splotches multiplied, weaving an intricate tapestry of red-hot lava that seemed to tighten its grip around me. As the blobs spread, pockets of trapped air within the lava erupted in miniature explosions, like tiny volleys of superheated fireworks.

Each eruption sent shards of fire and ash hurtling across my torso, their impact like a barrage of daggers.

I dropped my sword in sheer terror and swatted at my clothes. The fire was engulfing me. Strangely, it felt only warm at first, but it was getting hotter by the instant.

It was like diving into a jacuzzi—the white-hot burning sensation was searing through my skin and leaving an itching sensation that was quickly growing from kind of uncomfortable to unbearably painful.

"Your father's nature protects you," One of the monsters said. A sneer formed on his face. It was kind of a weird expression to see on the face of a Boston terrier, but at this point, nothing could surprise me too much. "Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, youngling. Not impossible."

The clever rebuttal on my lips died as they threw more lava at me.

My whole body was on fire. The heat was no longer just a sensation; it was a relentless assault on my senses. It seeped through every layer of clothing, gnawing at my skin and numbing my muscles. The pain was worse than anything I'd ever felt.

It was more than just getting burned—I felt like everything I was, and everything I ever would be, was being consumed by the lava.

I crumpled to the metal floor and heard the sea demon children howling in delight. I tried to stand, but my body felt like it was made of goo. I kept slipping and falling back down.

"Woof! Aren't they supposed to fight back, mister?" One of the younger telekhines asked, tugging his teacher's sleeve. "Why's he just lying there?"

"Not everyone can fight until the end," The elder telekhine replied matter-of-factly. "You weren't paying attention in the second lesson. Sometimes, the heroes just aren't strong enough. Now, which one of you youngsters wants to finish the job?"

As I struggled to breathe, the class of telekhines dissolved into an argument that involved yelling, pushing, and what sounded like copious amounts of biting:

"Me!"

"No, me!"

"You said I could be the one to kill our next demigod!"

"No fair, you got the last one!"

"I just want his spleen…"

"Now, children, there's going to be enough of him to go around for everyone," Their teacher said sternly. He brandished a wicked-looking knife. "I'll do the finishing, just to make sure it's done right. Now, watch closely. We need to preserve the body for as long as possible, or the meat will go bad."

I felt a tugging sensation in my gut, but I had nothing around to help me. Not a faucet or a river. Not even a petrified seashell this time. I was as far away from water as I could get, and, unless I figured something out soon, the only swimming I was going to be doing was in lava.

Through my haze of pain, another, more out-of-place feeling emerged. It was pride. After everything I'd been through, there was no way I could let it all end here. I'd fought gods before. I couldn't meet my end at the hands of some two-bit monsters. I wouldn't.

Come on, Percy, A voice that vaguely sounded like Grover pleaded in my head. You can't die here. We need you.

The last time I'd unleashed my power at the stables, there'd been that scary moment when it had almost gotten away from me, but now, I had no choice. I called to the sea. I reached inside myself and remembered the waves and the currents, the endless power of the ocean.

And I let it loose in one horrible scream. Just as the telekhine began walking toward me, the clouds around us began spinning. A swirl of water belched out of the sky, spawning a trident of water the size of a school bus that went hurtling toward the telekhines.

"No!" One of the older monsters yelled, trying to force the younger ones back into the classroom.

I never got to see if he was successful or not. Fire and water collided in a haze of superheated steam, and a ring of force erupted from the center of the platform, traveling outward faster than I could blink.

The force of impact sent whatever was in the furnace clattering by my feet. It looked like the beginnings of a spear—all I could make out was a bronze handle. I scooped it up, and a buzz of energy helped me to my feet just as another plume of lava came hurtling toward me.

If that lava hit me, I was toast.

For a second, fear overtook my senses, and I considered that this might be the place I would die. No prophecies for me. I would get overrun in the heart of a volcano by a pack of dog-faced sea-lion people, and my charred body would be paraded around for everyone to see.

The weapon in my hands hummed with energy. The vibrations emitting from the hilt were so strong, I could feel my teeth rattling.

In the blink of an eye, a shield of shimmering dirt erupted around me. The fiery onslaught of molten rock rained down upon it with the force of what felt like a thousand cannonballs, sending shockwaves reverberating through my arms.

What the heck?

I'd heard stories around camp of demigods being able to manifest weird powers when put in life-and-death situations, but whenever I'd imagined myself doing it, I always imagined some kind of explosion or cool transformation. Gods, I'd even imagined being able to turn into a gigantic rubber duck, but never, even in my wildest dreams, did I see myself getting dirt.

I was drawn out of my thoughts as the yelling picked up from outside my shield of dirt. I tried to think of a plan, but the options weren't great.

I could fight my way through the monsters—my current plan, by the way, which isn't going so well. I could jump into the lava, or jump off the mountain, but those don't necessarily seem like the best plays, either.

My teeth clenched. I fought to maintain my stance, but eventually, the relentless bombardment of lava was too much to bear, and the choice of what to do was wrested out of my control.

With an explosive roar, my shield ripped apart, and I was catapulted into the air, an involuntary cry escaping my lips. Time seemed to slow as I spiraled through the fiery chaos, the world a blur of searing reds and oranges.

The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was flying, flying so high Zeus would never have forgiven me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire and water streaming from me.

I was a comet hurtling toward the earth.


I woke up feeling like I was still on fire. My skin stung. My throat felt as dry as sand. I saw a blue sky and trees above me.

I heard a fountain gurgling and smelled juniper and cedar and a bunch of other sweet-scented plants. I heard waves, too, gently lapping on a rocky shore. I wondered if I was dead, but I knew better. I'd been to the Land of the Dead, and there was no blue sky.

Maybe Hades decided to renovate the place.

I tried to sit up. My bones ached, and my arms felt like jelly. Even though I'd just barely exerted effort, my muscles felt like they were melting. I hurt all over, like the one time Clarisse had convinced me to take her wrestling class at camp and beat me around the mat for an hour straight.

Melting. Fire. Lava.

I held my breath, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. The memories came rushing back, unbidden, like a relentless tide I couldn't escape. I could feel the scorching heat. I could feel the molten lava as it licked at my skin, and hear the laughter of the monsters.

I tried to shake the images loose, to banish them from my mind, but they clung to me like a curse. The gentle lapping of waves transformed into crackling sounds of magma, and the scent of flowers in the air turned sour, like wisps of smoke in the air.

I could feel the heat closing in on me, suffocating me. My hands trembled, and I could almost feel the blistering agony returning. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to regain control.

"Stay still," A girl's voice said gently. Soft, but strong hands rested over my trembling ones. Her voice was soothing. To my surprise, I could physically feel my body relax at her touch. I wasn't sure if I was imagining things or not, but I felt a soft pair of lips press a kiss down on my forehead. "Everything is okay."

She laid a cool cloth across my forehead. A bronze spoon hovered over me and liquid dribbled into my mouth. The drink soothed my throat and left a warm chocolaty aftertaste. Nectar of the gods.

The nectar revitalized me, even if it was just a little bit. The tremors stopped. I felt my skin tingle a little bit less. The agony from before subsided.

Then the girl's face appeared above me. She had almond eyes and caramel-color hair braided over one shoulder. She was...fifteen? Sixteen? It was hard to tell. She had one of those faces that just seemed timeless. She began singing, and my pain dissolved. She was working magic. I could feel her music sinking into my skin, healing and repairing my brain.

"Who?" I croaked.

"Shhh, brave one," She said. "Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. I am Calypso."


The next time I woke I 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.

Against the other wall were shelves neatly stacked with jars of fruit preserves. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling: rosemary, thyme, and a bunch of other stuff. My mother could've named them all. There was a fireplace built into the cave wall and a pot bubbling over the flames.

I sat up, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my head. The thrum in my head felt consistent with that one time some of the kids at Yancy had smuggled in some Pink Whitney and we'd all taken turns doing shots out of someone's Power Rangers cup. More likely than not, I was dehydrated.

Kind of ironic, I guess.

I looked at my arms, sure that they would be hideously scarred, but they seemed fine. A little pinker than usual, but not bad.

Before I could focus on anything else, my eyes were drawn next to my bed. Now since I wasn't in mortal danger, I could get a better look at the weapon the monsters had been working on.

It wasn't just any normal weapon, and even though it looked half-finished before, it certainly didn't look half-finished now. To my surprise, it wasn't a spear, but rather, a scythe of some kind.

The celestial bronze made it gleam in the dappled sunlight filtering through the front of the cave. Its curved blade, a blend of dark and shimmering metal, seemed to capture the essence of the light itself. The weapon held this ethereal blue sheen that gave it this oddly elegant look which contrasted with the deadly purpose it harbored.

The weapon definitely behaved weirdly in the light. The parts of it that were in the light seemed to glow as if they were on fire, but the parts in the darkness melted into the shadows to the point where I could barely see them at all.

The hilt, intricately designed, featured a grip wrapped in leather. At its pommel, a single, perfectly cut sapphire gemstone glistened. Symbols and runes, etched along the blade's length, seemed to pulse with an inner light.

For some reason, I felt compelled to grasp the scythe's handle. As my fingertips made contact with the leather, I could feel a hum of power, a resonance that seemed to echo through the very core of my being.

This was no ordinary weapon. Being in contact with it gave me the same feeling water did. Some of the aches and pains in my body seemed to ebb away. My vision cleared a little bit. I felt less lethargic and more alert.

With a little less difficulty than I expected, I stood. The stone floor was freezing under my feet. My shoes must've burned off in the explosion, go figure. The part-time job I took in the library back home was all for nothing.

Light glinted in the corner of my eye. I turned and found myself staring into a polished bronze mirror.

"Holy Poseidon," I muttered. I looked as if I'd lost twenty pounds I couldn't afford to lose. I'd already been a bit more on the lean side, to say the least, but right now, the cotton shirt I was wearing was hanging off my frame like it was a couple of sizes too big for me.

My hair was even more of a rat's nest than usual. It was singed at the edges like Hephaestus's beard, and there were definitely patches of hair that were shorter like they'd been chopped off from the top.

Honestly, a part of me was just considering downgrading to a buzz cut. I'd look less, well, psychotic that way.

Well, I wasn't being entirely fair. Sure, the hair didn't help, but the worst part of it all was the gaunt look on my face. I wasn't used to seeing my cheekbones so visibly, and the look in my eyes reminded me of health class when we'd been forced to watch that documentary about intercity drug abuse. The way I looked right now, I could be the lead for the next documentary.

Well, that's if they even decide to make a sequel. I don't know how, but drug use in my school actually went up after that class.

To put it simply, if I saw that face on somebody walking down a highway intersection asking for money, I would've locked the car doors and started muttering prayers. If a dude who looked like me sat next to me on the subway, I'd find another car to sit in.

If you replaced the scythe in my hand with a pitchfork, I could've easily been cast as one of those outraged village people in Frankenstein or something. It was official. Percy Jackson was now a crazy person.

I turned away from the mirror. The cave entrance was to my left. Or, well, I hoped it was. All I could really see was the daylight, so I headed toward it. The scythe acted as a walking stick.

The cave opened onto a green meadow. On the left was a grove of cedar trees and on the right a huge flower garden. 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. I could tell it was a lake because...well, I just could. Freshwater. Not salt. The sun sparkled on the water, and the sky was pure blue.

It seemed like a paradise, which immediately made me nervous. You deal with mythological stuff for a few years; you learn that paradises are usually places where you get killed. And, kind of in reverse, if you see some deadly-looking place, you're probably in the clear.

Case in point, Monster Donut. Open up Yelp right now, and I guarantee they'll be the top-rated pastry shop within a five-mile radius. That's how they get you. After you see their buy-one-get-one-free sign on the highway, you pull in for a glazed donut, and a hydra bites your head off.

The girl with the braided caramel hair, the one who'd called herself Calypso, was standing at the beach. I tried to remember what I knew about Calypso from the old myths. I'd heard the name before, but...I couldn't remember. Was she a monster? Did she trap heroes and kill them? Was she one of those evil cultists who lured people into paradise, but then made them stay there forever, like the Lotus Casino?

But if she was evil, why was I still alive?

She wore a white sleeveless Greek dress with a low circular neckline trimmed in gold. She brushed at her eyes like she'd been crying.

"Well," She said, trying for a smile as I got close enough, "The sleeper finally wakes."

"Who are you?" I tried to be all cool about it, but my voice sounded like a frog that had spent time in a microwave. Don't ask me how I know what that sounds like. "And, um, thank you for healing me."

"You're very welcome. My name is Calypso. I told you already, silly," She said. I mentally slapped my forehead for not phrasing my question differently. The smile returned as she looked me up and down. Even though I knew for a fact that I looked like a hobo, her appraising look made me feel a bit better. "How do you feel?"

"Better than I expected to feel," I answered truthfully. "How long have I been out?"

"Time," Calypso mused. She stepped a little bit closer to me. "Time is always difficult here. I honestly don't know, Percy."

I felt some suspicion flash through my mind. Surprisingly, though, my danger sense wasn't going off just yet. I opted to ask, "You know my name?"

"You talk in your sleep."

I blushed. "Yeah. I've been...uh, told that before."

"Yes. Who is Annabeth?"

Annabeth.

Calypso had just unknowingly asked me one of the most charged questions in the world. Annabeth was one of my best friends, and I thought that's all we were, but before the volcano…well, we did something I don't usually do to friends.

We kissed.

Or, well, more like she kissed me. Not that I didn't like it—I definitely didn't mind it. Well, okay, because Annabeth is pretty and all, but I'm pretty sure she's crushing on Luke, and we haven't ever talked about that stuff because why would I talk to her about who she does and doesn't crush on and the kiss could've just been because she thought she'd never see me again and—Calypso's staring at me.

I'm talking to myself. I'm rambling. Why am I rambling?

"Oh, uh. A friend," I swallowed. The word friend was hard to get out. "We were together when—wait, how did I get here? Where am I?"

Calypso reached up and ran her fingers through my mangled hair. Her fingertips worked magic on my scalp. Some of the burnt spots seemed to sew themselves back together at her touch. I couldn't help my reaction, though, as I stepped back nervously.

"I'm sorry," She said. "I've just grown used to caring for you. As to how you got here, you fell from the sky. You landed in the water, just there." She pointed across the beach. "I do not know how you survived. The water seemed to cushion your fall. As to where you are, you are in Ogygia."

"Is that near Mount St. Helens?" I asked because geography was definitely one of my worst subjects. Along with English. Well, and math. Basically everything. That could've been a town right next to where we'd been, or one of Jupiter's moons, for all I knew. "Or New York?"

Calypso laughed. It was a small restrained laugh, like she found me really funny but didn't want to embarrass me. She was cute when she laughed. "It isn't near anything, brave one," she said. "Ogygia is my phantom island. It exists by itself, anywhere and nowhere. You can heal here in safety. Never fear."

"But my friends—"

"Annabeth," She said, with an odd sternness to her tone. "And Grover and Tyson?"

"Yes!" I said. The scythe hummed in my hands as if it was agreeing with me. "I have to get back to them. They're in danger."

Calypso touched my face, and I didn't back away this time. It felt good. Her hand was warm, and her skin was smooth. It smelled like juniper berries. I felt my stomach do flip-flops as she smiled. "Rest first. You are of no help to your friends until you heal."

As soon as she said it, I realized how tired I was. My arms began drooping. "You're not...you're not an evil sorceress, are you?"

She smiled coyly. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, I met Circe once, and she was really pretty, and had a nice island too. Except she liked to turn men into guinea pigs. I don't know if you've been turned into a guinea pig before, but it's not a fun experience."

Calypso gave me that laugh again. Her eyes sparkled a bit. "I promise I will not turn you into a guinea pig."

Her hand traveled down to cup my cheek, and her thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. A little shiver of pleasure jolted through my brain. I found myself asking, "Or anything else? I like being me."

"I am no evil sorceress. I won't turn you into anything unless you want me to," Calypso said, still maintaining that smile. "I am not your enemy, brave one. Now rest. Your eyes are already closing."

She was right. My knees buckled, and I would've landed face-first in the gravel if Calypso hadn't caught me. Her hair smelled like cinnamon. She was very strong, or maybe I was just really weak and thin. She walked me back to a cushioned bench by the fountain and helped me lie down.

"Rest," Calypso ordered, softly kissing my forehead again. "Sleep well, my brave one."

And I fell asleep to the sound of the fountains and the smell of cinnamon and juniper.


The next time I woke it was night, but I wasn't sure if it was the same night or many nights later.

I was in the bed in the cave. Just like before, almost unconsciously, my hand wrapped around the scythe. Using its support, I rose and wrapped a robe around myself, and padded outside.

The stars were brilliant—thousands of them, like you only see way out in the country.

I could make out all the constellations Annabeth had taught me: Capricorn, Pegasus, Sagittarius. And there, near the southern horizon, was a new constellation: the Huntress, a tribute to a friend of ours who had died last winter.

The scythe emitted a deeper hum, almost as if it was reading my thoughts. My brow furrowed, and I stared at the weapon, waiting for it to make another noise.

"Percy, what do you see?" However amazing the stars were, Calypso was twice as brilliant. I mean, I've seen the goddess of love herself, Aphrodite, and I would never say this out loud or she'd blast me to ashes, but for my money, Calypso was a lot more beautiful, because she just seemed so natural, like she wasn't trying to be beautiful and didn't even care about that. She just was.

With her braided hair and white dress, she seemed to glow in the moonlight. She was holding a tiny plant in her hands. Its flowers were silver and delicate.

"I was just looking at..." I found myself examining her face. Calypso always looked so happy, too. The expression on her face was so warm, so inviting. I didn't even realize it until she cleared her throat, but I'd been staring. "Uh...I forgot."

She laughed gently. "Well, as long as you're up, you can help me plant these." She handed me a plant, which had a clump of dirt and roots at the base. The flowers glowed as I held them. Calypso picked up her gardening spade and directed me to the edge of the garden, where she began to dig.

"That's moonlace," Calypso explained. "It can only be planted at night."

I watched the silvery light flicker around the petals. I'd never seen a magical plant before. Well, there was this one time my mom and I found a bell pepper with two stems, but I still think moonlace takes the cake. "What does it do?"

"Do?" Calypso mused. "It doesn't really do anything, I suppose. It lives, it gives light, it provides beauty. Does it have to do anything else?"

"I suppose not," I said. She took the plant, and our hands met. Her fingers were warm. Like one of those old-timey romcoms I used to watch with my mom, we both looked up at each other.

Calypso smiled, and I smiled back, even if I thought it was kind of corny.

She planted the moonlace and stepped back, surveying her work. Eventually, she said, "I love my garden."

"It's awesome," I agreed. I mean, I wasn't exactly a gardening type, but Calypso had arbors covered with six different colors of roses, lattices filled with honeysuckle, and rows of grapevines bursting with red and purple grapes that would've made Dionysus sit up and beg.

"Back home," I said, "my mom always wanted a garden."

Calypso walked back to my side. Even though I already had the scythe for support, she wrapped a strong arm around me. "Why did she not plant one?"

The familiar scent of cinnamon put me at ease. "Well, we live in Manhattan. In an apartment."

"Manhattan? Apartment?"

I stared at her. Most of the Greeks I'd met out and about in the world knew about Manhattan. It was where Olympus was located, after all. The fact that Calypso didn't know should've been enough to tip me off, but I still didn't detect any bad vibes from her. She was just uninformed. Really uninformed. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"I fear not. I haven't left Ogygia in...a long time," Calypso breathed, looking up at the stars. Her eyes glittered.

I tried not to stare at her too much. It was hard. "Uh, well, Manhattan's a big city, with not much gardening space. If she wanted a garden, she'd probably have to do it in a community garden, which isn't that great. People vandalize those sometimes."

Calypso frowned. "That is sad. Hermes visits from time to time. He tells me the world outside has changed greatly. I did not realize it had changed so much you cannot have gardens."

Calypso turned to look at me, and I blurted out, "Why haven't you left your island?"

She looked down. "It is my punishment."

Punishment? How could someone as nice as Calypso deserve a punishment like that? "Why? What did you do?"

"I? Nothing. But I'm afraid my father did a great deal. His name is Atlas." The name sent a shiver down my back. I'd met the Titan Atlas last winter, and it had not been a happy time. He'd tried to kill pretty much everyone I care about.

"Still," I said hesitantly, trying to dispel the image of Atlas in my head. It was kind of crazy how someone as generous and open as Calypso could have a dad like that. "It's not fair to punish you for what your father's done. I knew another daughter of Atlas. Her name was Zoë. She was one of the bravest people I've ever met. She spent her whole life trying to make up for the sins of her father."

Calypso studied me for a long time. Her eyes were sad. She tried to muster up a smile, but it didn't work.

"What is it?" I asked. I didn't mean to offend her.

"Are—are you healed yet, my brave one? Do you think you'll be ready to leave soon?"

"What?" I asked. "I don't know. Do you need me to be? Do you want me to go?"

"I..." Her voice broke. "I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well." She ran off toward the beach. I was too confused to do anything but watch until she disappeared in the dark.

My scythe hummed again, and this time, I knew for a fact I wasn't just hearing things. I turned to look at the weapon.

The telekhines betrayed the gods, Annabeth's words from before flashed through my mind. They were practicing dark magic. I don't know what, exactly, but Zeus banished them to Tartarus.

"You don't seem like dark magic to me," I muttered, turning the hilt over in my hand. The hilt hummed in my hand. "Let's see what you can do."

I tightened my grip on the scythe and swung. I regretted it immediately.

The hilt hummed loudly, and the scythe glowed. It made a shrieking noise as I swung it through the air. The shriek was so inhuman and jarring that some of the birds that were perched nearby began squawking and flew away.

Spots of darkness invaded my vision. My right shoulder ached, and my grip on the scythe loosened. I dropped to a knee, and my face scrunched up as I tried to keep myself from crying out in pain. Whatever happened on Mount St. Helens had weakened me.

The scythe embedded itself into the ground with a shunk noise. The tip of the weapon was so sharp, that it took maybe two seconds for the entire thing to be so submerged in the ground that all I could make out was the glowing gemstone in the pommel.

"Damn," I wiped some spit off my chin. "I'm weaker than I remember. Sorry about that."

The scythe hummed from inside the ground.

"I'm talking to a weapon," I said. The hilt hummed again, louder and longer this time. "And it's talking back. I think I might be in a coma."

I held out a hand, reaching for the scythe. It made a slight warbling noise, before shooting out of the ground and back into my outstretched hand.

"Whoa," The ache was forgotten as I examined the scythe. "That was awesome."

And, of course, I promptly passed out.


I don't know exactly how much time passed. When I woke up again, it was daytime, but I didn't know if it was daytime in the day after or if I'd simply passed out for longer.

Sure, Calypso said it was hard to keep track of time on the island, but you'd think she'd have a sundial somewhere. Or, at the least, a little stone tablet with the days marked on it.

As I got to my feet, scythe in hand, I knew I should be leaving. At the very least, my friends would be worried. At worst, they could be in serious danger. I didn't even know if Annabeth had made it out of the volcano.

I appreciated the help Calypso had given me in getting back to normal, or whatever normal was now, but I felt good enough to at least leave. I had to find Hephaestus, and I needed to make sure my friends were okay.

I walked over to the garden where she was working, intent on telling her just how badly I needed to get off the island, but something about the way she was working was so mesmerizing.

So, for a second, I just sat in the meadow, sipping a glass of nectar that she left out for some reason, and I tried to concentrate on the flowers or the clouds or the reflections on the lake, but I was really staring at Calypso as she worked, the way she brushed her hair over her shoulder, and the little strand that fell in her face whenever she knelt to dig in the garden.

Sometimes she would hold out her hand and birds would fly out of the woods to settle on her arm—lorikeets, parrots, doves. She would tell them good morning, ask how it was going back at the nest, and they would chirp for a while, then fly off cheerfully. Calypso's eyes gleamed. She would look at me and we'd share a smile, but almost immediately she'd get that sad expression again and turn away.

"Do you want to eat lunch?" Calypso asked abruptly, her hands still in the dirt. She didn't look back at me, almost like she was afraid I'd say no.

"Oh, um, yeah," I said awkwardly.

Calypso smiled pleasantly at me and held out her hand. I took it, and she led me to a table near the beach.

Invisible servants had set up a table with beef stew and apple cider, which may not sound all that exciting, but that's because you haven't tasted it. I hadn't even noticed the invisible servants when I first got to the island, but once I saw the table set itself with plates and silverware, it was kind of hard to ignore.

I settled into my seat and rested my scythe on the ground next to us.

Calypso and I were sitting across from each other, and she looked beautiful in the sunlight. Even though I meant to open up the conversation by telling her I needed to go home, I somehow ended up telling her about New York and Camp Half-Blood, and then I started telling her about the time Grover had eaten an apple while we were playing Hacky Sack with it.

Calypso was just so easy to talk to. She hung on every word I said and reacted so intently, it made me feel like every single word out of my mouth was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard.

As I finished the story—Grover ended up eating my shoe, too, if you were curious— she laughed, showing off her amazing smile, and our eyes met. Then she dropped her gaze and her smile was immediately wiped away.

"There it is again," I said.

"What?"

"You keep pulling away like you're trying not to enjoy yourself."

She kept her eyes on her glass of cider. "As I told you, Percy, I have been punished. Cursed, you might say."

Cursed? "How? Tell me. I want to help."

"Don't say that. Please don't say that."

"Calypso," I urged. "Tell me what the punishment is."

She covered her half-finished stew with a napkin, and immediately an invisible servant whisked the bowl away. "Percy, this island, Ogygia, is my home, my birthplace. But it is also my prison. I am under...house arrest, I guess you would call it. I will never visit this Manhattan of yours. Or anywhere else. I am alone here."

My eyes widened. "Because your father was Atlas."

She nodded. "The gods do not trust their enemies. And rightly so. I should not complain. Some of the prisons are not nearly as nice as mine."

"But that's not fair," I said. The image of Zoe's dead body flashed through my mind. My glass of cider shook for a moment. "Just because you're related doesn't mean you support him. This other daughter I knew, Zoë, Nightshade—she fought against him. She wasn't imprisoned. I…I'd be dead without her."

"But, Percy," Calypso said gently, "I did support him in the first war. He is my father."

"What? But the Titans are evil!"

"Are they? All of them? All the time?" She pursed her lips. Her eyes looked sad. "Tell me, Percy. I have no wish to argue with you, but do you support the gods because they are good, or because they are your family?"

I didn't answer. She had a point. Last winter, after Annabeth and I had saved Olympus, the gods had a debate about whether or not they should kill me. That hadn't been exactly good. But still, I felt like I supported them because Poseidon was my dad.

"Perhaps I was wrong in the war," Calypso said. She inhaled deeply and said, "And in fairness, the gods have treated me well. They visit me from time to time. They bring me word of the outside world. But they can leave. And I cannot."

"You don't have any friends?" I asked. "I mean...wouldn't anyone else live here with you? It's a nice place. I'd live here year-round if I could."

That wasn't the right thing to say. By the time I was done talking, a tear had already trickled down her cheek. "I...I promised myself I wouldn't speak of this. But…you could stay here with me. You would be immortal on this island. You would never age or die. You could leave the fight to others, Percy Jackson."

I stared at her, stunned. "Just like that?"

She nodded. "Just like that."

"But...my friends."

Calypso rose and took my hand. Her touch sent a warm current through my body. "You asked about my curse, Percy. I did not want to tell you. The truth is the gods send me companionship from time to time. Every thousand years or so, they allow a hero to wash up on my shores, someone who needs my help. I tend to him and befriend him, but it is never random. The Fates make sure that the sort of hero they send..." Her voice trembled, and she had to stop.

I squeezed her hand tighter. "What? What have I done to make you sad?"

"They send a person who can never stay," She whispered. "Who can never accept my offer of companionship for more than a little while. They send me a hero I can't help...just the sort of person I can't help falling in love with."

The afternoon was quiet except for the gurgle of the fountains and waves lapping on the shore. It took me a long time to realize what she was saying.

"Me?" I asked.

"If you could see your face." She suppressed a smile, though her eyes were still teary. "Of course, you."

"That's why you've been pulling away all this time?"

"I tried very hard. But I can't help it. The Fates are cruel. They sent you to me, my brave one, knowing that you would break my heart."

"But...I'm just...I mean, I'm just me."

"That is enough," Calypso promised. "I told myself I would not even speak of this. I would let you go without even offering. But I can't. I suppose the Fates knew that, too. You could stay with me, Percy. I'm afraid that is the only way you could help me."

I stared at the horizon. I could stay here forever, disappear from the earth. I could live with Calypso, with invisible servants tending to my every need. We could grow flowers in the garden and talk to songbirds and walk on the beach under perfect blue skies.

No war. No prophecy. No more taking sides.

"I can't," I told her. She looked down sadly but nodded as if that's what she expected. "I would never do anything to hurt you," I said, "but my friends need me. My…my mom needs me."

Calypso nodded slowly. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the forehead, like a blessing. "Then come to the beach, my hero. And we will send you on your way."

The sand shifted beneath our feet as we strolled along the beach, the rhythmic lull of the waves providing a soothing backdrop to the otherwise tense situation. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow across the horizon. It was a picturesque scene, one that should have lifted the spirits of anyone who set foot on this shore, but something told me neither Calypso nor I were feeling particularly happy at the moment.

But as I glanced at Calypso, I couldn't help but notice the weariness in her eyes, even though she was trying to mask it with a brave smile.

Inside the shallows, there was a raft bobbing up and down.

It was a ten-foot square of logs lashed together with a pole for a mast and a simple white linen sail. It didn't look like it would be very seaworthy, or lakeworthy, but I'd come to trust Calypso.

"This will take you wherever you desire," Calypso promised. "It may not look very sturdy, but I assure you that it is quite safe. The gods have enchanted it themselves."

I placed the scythe on the raft, and the raft buckled a little bit, like someone stepped on board. Somehow, that didn't reassure me. I took her hand, but she let it slip out of mine.

"Maybe I can visit you," I said. "Once I save my friends, I can set back out."

She shook her head. "No man ever finds Ogygia twice, Percy. When you leave, I will never see you again."

"You don't know that," I argued. "We—"

"Go, please." Her voice broke. "The Fates are cruel, Percy. Just remember me."

The Fates really were cruel. They sent Calypso someone she couldn't help but love. But it worked both ways. For the rest of my life, I would always be thinking about her. She would always be my biggest what-if.

I nodded, ignoring the pit in my stomach as I stepped onto the raft. Usually, water made me feel comfortable. Secure. But the moment I stepped onto the raft, I knew something was seriously wrong.

As the raft pushed away from the shore, a sudden chill washed over me, like an omen whispered by the sea itself. I tried to convince myself that I was imagining things. I'd been out of commission for a few days.

Surely, my mind was just playing tricks on me.

The edges of the raft began to crackle with ice—frigid tendrils of frost began creeping along the wooden surface like ethereal fingers trying to grab me and pull me into the water.

My breath billowed out in puffs of white, and the air itself seemed to crystallize as if the very atmosphere had frozen around me.

I gazed down at my fingertips, watching as they transformed into a deep shade of blue, the cold seeping through my skin and into my bones. They felt brittle. I felt like they might shatter with the slightest touch, and the sharp sting of the cold sent shivers coursing through my entire body.

The waves, which had been calm moments ago, now seemed to grow restless. The sky began to slowly turn dark, like a vial of ink spilling into a blue canvas. The seas shook and churned, angrily.

The raft was buffeted by the conditions around me, tossed around like a piece of paper in the wind.

The first jolt was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver up my spine. As a son of Poseidon, I'd gotten used to having the water under my control, but right now, it was fighting against me.

The second jolt almost sent my scythe flying off the edge, and I had to lunge forward to grab it.

That wasn't the right move.

As soon as I made contact with the metal, a sharp crack echoed through the air, like the splitting of thunder. The raft beneath me gave way, snapping in half as if it were made of twigs.

For the second time in recent memory, I was flung backward, the world a dizzying whirlwind of water, sky, and sand.

"Percy!" Calypso's voice floated over the din.

When I opened my eyes again, Calypso's worried face was a few inches above mine, upside down. Her hands were slowly stroking my hair. I blinked a few times and sat up. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Calypso replied. She pointed out to the ocean, which was back to looking so pristine and blue, it could be on the cover of a postcard. "But the raft is gone. I've tried to call it back, but it won't listen. The storm destroyed it completely."

"What does that mean?"

"It means there's no way off this island," Calypso replied softly. "You're stuck here."