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General Disclaimer (applies to all chapters): Percy Jackson and the Olympians belongs to Rick Riordan and whomever he has given the rights to. I own nothing and am making no profit from this story. Although this is an AU after The Last Olympian, I will be using characters and situations from Heroes of Olympus and possibly The Kane Chronicles. Both series are also owned by Riordan, not me. The first two lines of dialogue are taken directly from page 373 of The Last Olympian. And it's my library's copy of The Last Olympian, so I don't even own that. Then Percy's fail turns epic, and the new stuff starts.

Religious disclaimer: Unlike Riordan (and probably for this exact reason), I will be pulling in characters from the mythologies of active religions-in particular, Shinto and Hindu, and probably Taoist and Buddhist eventually. I have nothing but respect for these faiths, and this story is meant only to entertain. No offense to practitioners of any religion is intended.

Note on Percy's school year: When I was planning this, I thought Percy had finished his sophomore year at the end of TLO, and was going into his junior year, and had made my story's timeline accordingly. When I realized that he was beginning his sophomore year instead, I decided to leave it rather than do a lot of re-writing. So, Percy has 2 years of high school left at the start of the story, not 3.

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August 18. The day the Second Olympian War ended.

I brushed the cake off my hands. "When I was at the River Styx, turning invulnerable… Nico said I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal."

Annabeth kept her eyes on the horizon. "Yeah?"

"Luke and I… we had the same-" She stiffened next to me, and I knew instantly that it had been the absolute wrong thing to say right then. I'd seen her face when Luke asked her if he loved her and she'd had to tell him she didn't. I'd seen her face when we'd burned his shroud earlier today. I closed my eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid…"Sorry."

"Yeah." She sounded resigned, and like she was trying not to laugh and not to cry at the same time. "You really are a seaweed brain, you know that, Percy?"

I swallowed. "Yeah."

"I…" She sighed, and didn't continue. I tried my best puppy-dog eyes. She glanced over at me and started laughing, so, maybe not so great, but she didn't have that slightly broken look anymore. Win?

She leaned over and pecked my cheek, then got up and started walking away. "Happy birthday, Kelp-head. And…" she turned around and winked. "Better luck next time."

After she left and I was done hitting my head on the Poseidon table repeatedly, Clarisse came up behind me.

"You know, Jackson…" and she switched to a Jack Sparrow accent, "If you were waiting for the opportune moment… that was it."

The canoe lake was all the way at the bottom of the hill. That did not keep her dry.

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I passed through the waves smoothly, following the call. I knew where I was, like I always had in the sea. I would be able to find this place again. I crested a ridge on the ocean floor, and saw her. Battered, broken, but she'd once had a beauty greater than Aphrodite.

I fell in love.

I woke up.

I pulled on some khaki shorts and a shirt, stuffed Riptide in my pocket, and crept out of the cabin. The harpies didn't raise an alarm as I snuck over to the stables. Everyone was tired after yesterday, but I needed to do this.

"Blackjack!" I hissed. "Wake up!"

Doughnuts? The black Pegasus snorted and sleepily blinked at me a couple of times. Boss? What's going on?

"I need to check on something. It's important. Can you give me a ride?"

You kidding, boss? The last time we snuck out, we got wrapped up in vines.

"Mr. D's still on Olympus. He's with his wife. I really don't think he'll notice." My horse looked at me skeptically. Time for bribery. "And next time, we'll stop at the closest Dunkin' Doughnuts on the way."

…Promise?

"On the Styx. A dozen, your choice of fillings." Thunder boomed, signifying that the oath had been made.

Wow. Where are we going?

Ten minutes later, we'd snuck out of camp without any entanglements, heading out to sea. I was able to point him in the right direction, and another hour's flight at normal speed had gotten us to what I was pretty sure was the general area. I would need to be closer to the water to be any more accurate.

"I'm getting off here." I put a knee on his back and balanced my other foot on the connection between his wing and body, preparing to dive from a few hundred feet up.

Hold the horse, boss. The ocean was at war yesterday, remember? I doubt your dad's taken care of all of Oceanus's monsters this fast.

I gave him a grin he couldn't see. "If I'm not back in half an hour… just wait longer."

I launched into a perfect swan dive- much cooler than my belly-flop off the St. Louis Arch four years ago. I knew as soon as I passed through the surface that we hadn't come out far enough. I surfaced and waved at Blackjack so he'd know I hadn't been eaten on entry, then pointed east and dove again. I swam until I saw the ridge from my dream, and paused at the top.

A two-masted sailing ship rested on her side on the floor of the sea. There were cannonball holes all over and a gaping hole in on the left (port, some part of me whispered) side, below where the waterline would have been, so there wasn't much question about what had sunk her. I swam close enough to look inside, and saw the remnants of a big explosion. It looked like it had been the powder magazine, where the gunpowder was stored. A stray flame, a fire started in the heat of battle, and she would have been lost. The surviving crew would have been lucky if they'd managed to abandon ship in time; I knew from personal experience how fast a ship could sink, and how hard it was for a mortal to get away from one.

I touched her side, and words I'd never known before came into my mind. Words like Baltimore clipper, topsail schooner, gaff rigging. She was smaller than the Queen Anne's Revenge (115 ft 6 inches, that same part of my soul told me), and built for speed. The eight twelve-pound cannons that lined each side said that she wasn't a trader. I knew, somehow, that she'd seen a lot of action. A pirate, or a maybe a privateer. The ship's flag was long gone, so I couldn't tell which, and there hadn't always been a lot of difference anyway.

I wandered around a bit below deck. What had once been the crew quarters were basically double rows of barnacle-covered hammocks and a barnacle-covered table. The entire ship was pretty covered, actually. I touched one of the hammocks, willing it dry, and the rope disintegrated, leaving a hammock-shaped crust of crustaceans behind. I decided not to do that again and just wandered around exploring the galley and food storage, poking my head into the closet-sized rooms that had to have been for the officers, and saying hi to the random fish that were beginning to swarm the boat to meet the son of Poseidon.

When I found the only locked hold, I just asked it to open, and the lock clicked like my dad was Hermes. Apparently, on sailing ships, I was the Prince of Thieves.

I did the same thing to one of the six small chests inside the hold, and then just kind of floated there gaping like an idiot for a bit. It looked like the ship had been heading home when she got in her final fight.

If they could help me find sunken treasure ships, I took back everything I'd ever said about my dreams.

Eventually I closed the chest, and locked it, and yes, I know that was probably pointless, and checked the others to find the same gold and silver coins. The other stuff in the hold looked like it had been spices; I pried open a small barrel and found a lot of water-logged cloves.

I finally remembered that Blackjack was waiting for me, and probably was really worried by now. He was right- the sea wasn't safe right now, even, or maybe especially, for a demigod son of Poseidon. I was just going to surface and call Blackjack, and come back for the chests later, but I couldn't stop remembering the feeling I'd had when I'd gotten on my first ship. I'd been worried about Grover, thought Tyson was dead, and had just been turned into a guinea pig, but it had still been the most complete I'd ever felt. I'd been doing something I was really good at, something I was born to do. It had felt like my body had always been supposed to have extra spars and sails, and I'd just never figured out those parts were missing.

I should have just swum away, but I circled the ship again anyway. The damage was bad. Her hull was intact except for, you know, the cannonholes and the gaping hole on the port side, but I could tell that the explosion had cracked the keel. If the Queen Anne's Revenge had felt like she was a part of my body, this felt like I'd broken my back. I didn't think that could be fixed.

I found the cracked part anyway. It was all still there, just… broken. I pulled on one side, trying to move the jagged parts back into contact. I wasn't even sure why.

"Come on," I muttered at my broken back. "What's the point of dreams if I can't do anything about them?"

This ship had been beautiful, once. Suddenly, more than anything else in the world, I wanted to see her sail again. I wanted her to be like the Queen Anne's Revenge, which had been a part of me until she was destroyed by someone I refused to call my brother. I wanted us to soar through the waves for the first time in hundreds of years.

"Remember what you were," I begged her. I wasn't even sure what I was saying. "Just, please… remember!"

And the keel clicked back together, as easily as raising a sail.

I blinked at it. There wasn't even a scratch where it had been torn apart.

"Praise Poseidon. Seriously, Dad, thanks."

The keel was ok. The rest of it could be fixed, if I could get her back to Camp Half-Blood. I experimented with pulling the water out of the ship, but that just moved more water in to take its place. I couldn't create a vacuum. I needed to replace the water with air, and I didn't think there were enough bubbles in a square mile to give her enough lift to float to the surface.

I was four hundred feet deep. That was the closest air. And, as soon as I had the thought, I reached.

Bubbles formed by the waves at the surface started floating down. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough to float my ship, and so I extended my power to the water around us, and twisted. A waterspout formed at the surface and extended down to me as I gave a mental yell at all of the fish in the area to get out of the way.

I stood steady on dry ground, in the eye of the storm. My new ship stayed where she was as the water inside drained out. The water around us circled in a whirlpool that would have done Charybdis proud. Now, all I had to do was let it go without it crushing my ship.

All. Right. Like it was easy.

I'd already used a lot of energy making the whirlpool, and I'd fought a battle and a Titan Lord yesterday with only half a night's sleep since then. And my stamina blew. I still wasn't used to the effect the Styx had on my endurance. I was like a cheetah now; I could do fast, intense bursts of incredible energy, but I couldn't keep them up for long and I needed to recover in between. And right now, I was pretty low on recovery.

It didn't matter. I wouldn't let it matter. I held the thousands of tons of water moving around us steady, and slowly, slowly began to let the water at the bottom out of my control, and only made sure that none got back into my ship. As she began to rise, I asked her to float upright in the water, and climbed through the jagged hole as we rose.

As I climbed onto the deck, I let the waterspout collapse faster, until the water level was going up at a dozen feet a second and the ship finally breached onto the surface like a humpback whale. She hit with a jarring crash, and I winced and patted the main mast. "Sorry."

Boss! I thought you'd got eaten! Blackjack backwinged and landed gracefully on the deck, in between two cannons that had been held in place by chains bolted to the side of the ship. He looked around and snorted, stamping a back hoof. Is this what you dragged us out here for? It's a wreck.

"She was a wreck," I corrected, grinning. "She's mine now."

I can see the inside from out here. There are bugs all over it. Even for a fixer-upper, this is ridiculous.

"They're barnacles. They come off." To demonstrate, I swiped my hand along the mast, willing the barnacles under my hand to let go. They did, and I had a clean segment of wood that would have taken some serious scrubbing if my father had been anyone else. "See?"

You're going to have to do that with every inch of the ship. And how are we going to get it home? The sails are gone.

"I'll manage. Can you let Chiron know where I am?" The sun was rising, and I'd be missed from camp soon; I hoped they hadn't restarted cabin inspections already.

OK. I'll be back afterwards. Just in case you get swarmed by telekhines and need a getaway. The Pegasus turned around and took a short run down the right (starboard) deck and from there to the air.

"Thanks, Blackjack!" I called after him, and then turned my attention to the water underneath us. The current shifted, turning west and tugging the drifting ship along with it. It was slow without the push from the wind, and would take all day, but I'd get her there.

Annabeth and I didn't actually talk much in the couple of weeks that were left in camp. By the time I'd brought my new ship into Long Island Sound and sunk her again off the beach of Camp Half-Blood, in an area deep enough that she wouldn't interfere with the triremes if they just avoided the masts sticking out of the water, Annabeth had had to go back to Olympus to talk with her mom and start surveying the area. She wasn't in camp much, and when she was it was mostly to get the plans for the new cabins settled. I gave her space; after our last conversation, I was a bit nervous about trying again. Did they make cue-cards in Ancient Greek for this type of thing?

Chiron had been understanding about my going AWOL, but he still wouldn't let me take Blackjack out for doughnuts until camp officially ended and the pegasus gave me a ride home. The first thing I'd done after getting back to camp at sunset was take a canoe, load up the treasure chests, and take them to Chiron to be inventoried. Once the Stoll brothers and the rest of Cabin 11 heard about sunken treasure in the Sound, it wouldn't take them long to find scuba gear.

"It's a considerable find, Percy," Chiron said, looking at a tarnished silver shilling. "Your ship was probably sunk in the War of 1812 or thereabouts, judging by the monarchs on the coins. I would recommend that we sell them gradually, as you need the money, to avoid flooding the market. The gold and silver has its own value, of course, but the coins themselves would be worth much more to collectors if we can get documentation verifying that they are legitimate."

"Great! Um, we?" I asked.

He smiled at me. "This is certainly a part of the aid I am expected to give to young demigods, Percy. I will show you the steps to take; if your dreams found you treasure once, they may do so again. It's one of the more pleasant uses of visions I've heard of. And believe me, after several thousand years, I've heard of many."

I shook my head. "It wasn't the money. It was the ship. I just… needed to find it. I don't think this will happen again."

"The ship?" he asked, losing his smile and looking at me contemplatively. "Did it call to you, or did you call to it?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning. "She's just a ship. Like the Queen Anne's Revenge- I told you about that, right? She can't call anything."

"Ah. Yes, you did tell me. I had forgotten. And you were… thirteen? That's about the right age, I suppose." He sighed, looking very tired suddenly. Well, it had been a long couple of days, and he'd been hurt fighting his father's army. My sneaking out and coming back with a new project probably hadn't helped. "So your dreams helped you seek out a ship that came supplied with the means to repair it. Is that what you intend to do?"

"Yeah. This'll be enough money, right?"

"More than enough, I would say, particularly since you will do most of the work yourself and your power will aid you. You should have plenty left over for… whatever you intend to do."

I didn't ask why he'd assumed I'd be doing all of the work myself; it must have been obvious that I wasn't going to be letting anyone near my ship any time soon. Plus, it was underwater. "Nothing in particular. Just sail. I haven't seen any part of the world except when we went on quests. It might be nice to be able to actually take my time and visit the area."

"Sailing? Is that all?" His look grew stranger, like he was seeing me for the first time. I didn't know what he was trying to figure out- I was the same as I'd always been. The Styx hadn't changed that.

"Yeah. Just see what's out there. Do some exploring, you know?"

"Exploration," he sighed, lashing his tail in agitation. "Yes, I suppose it's finally time for it."

"Right- Kronos is gone, there's no prophecy except for that new one that might not come any time soon, and I'm still alive." I was free, for the first time in my life. "I'll take a couple of years to fix it up and head out when I've graduated from high school."

"I'm glad you intend to finish," he said, relaxing a bit. "It would be a shame to have peaked in your sophomore year."

I grinned at the reminder of my words to the gods yesterday morning. "Yeah, I'm still going. You don't mind my swinging by on the weekends, right?"

"You will always be welcome here, Percy. Please, always remember that." He looked at me earnestly until I nodded, a bit confused. He continued, "Though, if you will be in the area, would you be willing to teach the occasional class? We'll have many more campers this coming year than ever before, thanks to your efforts."

"Sure. Just let me know what I can do to help."

And that was that; I spent the next two weeks getting the barnacles off my ship (I needed a name, but everything I thought of seemed wrong) and helping collect new campers and get them settled. The most unusual part about it was the next time I saw Rachel- or rather, when she saw me.

I was at my table with Grover the morning I was supposed to head home, talking about his work organizing the satyrs to collect new campers, when our new Delphic Oracle marched over and sat across from me.

"What did you do?" She hissed. "Everything I saw about you has changed. I don't know where you're going anymore!"

I blinked at her. "Well, um, neither do I. Most people don't. And, hi, Rachel, how are you. Lovely day today, isn't it? How were your parents?"

"Shut it, Percy." She sighed, running her hands through her red hair. "Your future went… weird. I thought I knew what your next steps were going to be, and then I saw you just now and everything twisted. I don't know what happened."

"Maybe that's normal?" Grover suggested. "It's not like we can ask the former Oracle. Maybe the minor stuff changes unless there's an actual prophecy?"

"Maybe." The thought didn't make her look any happier. "Still, Percy, be careful, OK?"

"Yeah." I felt a cold chill. I couldn't help but remember that the last time she'd spoken to me, she'd been hinting about me and Annabeth. If that had changed…

The thought distracted me through the morning, and even a meeting with my dad while he was fishing for sea serpents couldn't quite drive it from my mind. Although the joke (?) about siblings next year did a pretty good job of it. It wasn't until after he was gone that I remembered that I'd meant to thank him in person for fixing the keel of my ship.

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September 18. One month after the Second Olympian War ended.

"And, enough about the ship, Percy. How's school going?" Annabeth asked around a mouthful of sandwich. She'd suggested we meet for a picnic in Central Park today; she was taking the afternoon off from Olympus and I'd told Blackjack I wouldn't need a ride to camp. She was dressed like she normally was, in shorts and an orange Camp Half-blood t-shirt, with her necklace around her neck. She looked stunning without needing any help from makeup or fancy clothing.

"Sorry," I grinned sheepishly. I had kind of been babbling and waving my hands, but to be fair, she'd been doing the same thing about the new palace on Olympus she was designing for her mom. "It's only been the first two weeks, but Paul's been helping me with English and History, and I think I'll be able to pass. Woodshop is fun, and Physics is… it's actually easy so far. I hated algebra even when my teachers weren't trying to kill me, but it gets better when you can see it being used, you know? And Pre-calculus isn't bad either."

"Well, maybe it's because you're a kinesthetic learner," Annabeth suggested, smirking.

"A what now?"

She was openly laughing at me now. "You learn best by doing stuff. And you've had so much experience with ballistics. 'A 70 kilogram demigod wearing 10 kilograms of armor and weapons ejects himself from Mount St. Helens at a speed of 300 meters per second. If he is 2,500 meters high initially and his launch angle is 80 degrees, how far away is Calypso's island?'"

"Ha. Ha. And the answer is 'none of the above'. She said Ogygia wasn't any place in the mortal world." I was pretty sure that was the first time she'd brought up Calypso on her own. "Anyway, school's going all right. For school. We can't all be geniuses."

"You've had your moments." She grinned at me, and for a second I was convinced that everything would work out, no matter what Rachel hadn't seen. Then she continued, "So do you think you'll want to study physics after high school? I'd thought it would be oceanography, or something else that would let you work in the sea a lot."

This would go over about as well as Luke going to Kronos, I could tell already. "I don't think I'm going to go to college. At least, not right away. Maybe someday."

"Oh. Too bad."

OK, she took that better than I expected.

Then she continued, "Are you sure? We're not at war anymore, so you'll probably be able to keep your grades decent, and admissions offices mostly look at SAT's, activities, and the grades from high school. Middle school grades don't really matter. You'd be able to get admitted somewhere, if that's what you're worried about."

Ouch.

"It's not." Though she was right, I probably would have been worried about getting in somewhere if I'd actually wanted to go. I'd changed schools more often than Aphrodite changed clothes. "I just don't want to go right into college. I want… do you remember when we were sailing in the Sea of Monsters, on Blackbeard's old ship?"

She grimaced. "Yes. I spent half the time seasick and the rest of it trying to forget about the Sirens."

I'd forgotten that. She'd turned the color of guacamole and had to go under the deck for the rest of the day. "Um, well. That's what I want to do. Only, without the quests and the danger. Just sail."

"Oh." She chewed on her sandwich for a bit, watching some kids play in the little playground across from us. Finally, she asked "Sail where? Just up and down the coast?"

"As far as I can. Around the world."

Her voice was quiet. "For how long?"

"I don't know. As long as I can. Until I have to stop or there's nothing left to see." I couldn't look at her. She didn't look at me. I finally broke the silence. "It won't be for a while. A lot can happen in two years. You said you'd like to see Greece. The Parthenon."

"At the St. Louis Arch." She smiled. It looked like it hurt. "I still can't believe you remembered that."

"It was one of the first things personal things I learned about you."

She was blinking a lot. "Do you remember what else I said?"

I couldn't make my voice anything more than a hoarse whisper. "That you wanted to create something that would last a thousand years."

"Yeah."

We watched the playground some more. I don't think she wanted to say what both of us were thinking. I know wild hellhounds couldn't have dragged the words from my mouth right then. Finally she broke the silence.

"You could make a living sailing. Give tours, yachting expeditions, stuff like that. You don't have to leave to spend your life on the water."

"No." She looked at me, surprised by my sharp tone. It had kind of sounded like I should be petting the ship and calling her 'my precious'.

"Sorry. But, no. I need… I need to be able to go where I want to. I can't explain it. It's just… I feel like I'm weightless, for the first time in my life. There was always the prophecy hanging over me even when I didn't know about it, and now I'm free, and I… I can't stay."

Even for you.

She crumpled up the sandwich wrapper and drew her knees to her chest, hugging them. "Rebuilding Olympus… it's my dream, Percy."

"I know."

"I can't leave."

Even for you.

I closed my eyes. "I know."

Neither of us said anything for a while. I didn't know where to go from here. We'd never been together, but this was a thousand times worse than the little 'I don't like you that way' speech I got from Rachel at Hestia's hearth. Annabeth had been a constant in my life since I was twelve. We'd fought everything from Medusa to Kronos together. I'd been willing to die to have the chance to live with her. And I didn't know why that had changed. I'd still die for her, but I couldn't stay still because of her.

So, all things considered, when Hermes showed up I don't think I'd ever been so relieved to see a god. And that included Hades at the head of his army.

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"Poor George and Martha," I said, trying hard to look like I was genuinely concerned about them. And I was, don't get me wrong, I do kind of like Hermes' snakes, but I was mostly relieved that I had a literally god-sent reason to stop thinking about my own pathetic problems. "This… Cacus is in Manhattan, you said?"

"Underground somewhere, if he's going by his old habits," Hermes nodded. If he noticed anything off about my performance, he didn't mention it, but he seemed more annoyed by his stolen caduceus and that Annabeth was there with me. Luke was still a touchy point for both of them, and they both kind of blamed each other. "You're resourceful. I'm sure you can figure out where. Getting it by five this evening would be great, so I can finish my deliveries."

"Sure, I'll do my best. See you at five. Annabeth, I'll catch up with you later, OK?" Yes, I was running away.

She didn't let me. "I'm coming too."

I winced. "I really don't think-"

"Percy. You're not going without me." Her grey eyes were narrowed and slightly puffy. I felt like the world's biggest jerk. "Besides, think of George and Marsha. They must be terrified."

"Wonderful," Hermes said, studying her pointedly. "The giant breaths fire. And do be mindful of the caduceus; it once turned a horrible tattletale named Battus to stone… but I'm sure you will both be careful. And of course you'll keep this as our little secret."

Styx. With friends like these… "Of course."

Four hours later, we had broken Annabeth's magic shield, been drenched in sewer water, destroyed most of the Meatpacking District, played a grabber-arm game with a ten-foot giant as the prize, and skeet-shot him with George and Martha's laser mode. Just another day as a demigod.

And the thing was… it really was. We still worked together incredibly. We'd tag-teamed Caucus like we'd rehearsed it, and when she'd gone for the crane and left me to distract the giant and grab Hermes' staff, I knew she wouldn't let me down. There were awkward bits, sure, but after everything we'd been through, we didn't let them affect us when it counted.

As we went to meet Hermes at Rockefeller Center, with George and Martha stuffed on sewer rats and comfortably sleeping, I turned to her and said desperately, "I don't want to lose this."

"You're an idiot, Percy." She gave me a half-smile. It was tired, but genuine. "I'm… I'm going to need some time. But we'll be OK."

"It's not you, it's me?" I offered, relaxing.

She sniffed. "Well, obviously. Come on, let's get this thing to Hermes before he decides we've been spreading gossip about his thief-god fail around New York."

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"So, that's it?" Gover asked, chewing on one of the aluminum cans I'd brought him for his birthday party. We were in Central Park again, and his girlfriend Juniper was dancing with the local tree nymphs nearby. It was the first time we'd seen each other since Annabeth and I had talked. She would have been here today too, but she had been planning a trip to see her dad for a while. "All the UST, and you just decide to not happen? You were, like, Aphrodite Cabin's favorite couple-to-be for a while there."

"It wasn't going to work. I'm not staying around. I know that already."

"Yeah… about that. I asked a couple of the naiads to look over your ship. They said it's in pretty bad shape. Are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life." We'd been empathy-linked for years; he could feel what I felt. He knew I was telling the truth. "I can fix her. As good as new, maybe better."

He baa'd contemplatively. "I asked the naiads to take a look because Annabeth Iris-messaged me. She was worried you'd been enchanted or something. She thought it might have been the ship."

I stiffened. I didn't know she'd talked to Grover before I had. "And?"

"As far as they can tell, it's just a ship. And whenever I reach out to you, I feel like heading for Canada to find new bits of wilderness. You're itchy. Something's different, yeah, but it's from you, not the ship. I told her that."

"Chiron asked pretty much the same thing, I think. In different words. He doesn't seem worried." I kind of wished I was under an enchantment. It would have made things simpler. I felt like I'd earned the happy ending everyone else wanted me to have.

He finished the can, then sighed and said, "Be careful, OK? There's a lot of stuff out there we haven't seen yet, and you won't have us as backup."

I grinned at him. I had good friends. "I will be."

At that point, Apollo showed up and interrupted Grover's birthday and our heart-to-heart talk to make us fetch his runaway mechanical backup singer for a concert in Olympus that night, and I wound up desperately hanging from a Times Square billboard without any pants on. (Long story.) But we got the automaton back where it was supposed to be, and gracefully ducked out of Apollo's reward of concert tickets.

If I'd known it would be the last time I'd see an Olympian god for years, I might have reconsidered, but… no, never mind, no I wouldn't have.

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August 17. Almost one year after the Second Olympian War ended.

"Remember those who fell, and know that they died as heroes," Chiron finished.

One by one, in no particular order, each cabin councilor came up and threw one flower into the evening campfire for each of their siblings that died fighting for the gods in the war, saying their name as they did. Silena's name was claimed by both Ares and Aphrodite, like her shroud had been when it was burned. Thalia had led the Hunters to camp for the memorial, and threw the flowers for Artemis's cabin. Chiron came forward again for the fallen Party Ponies. Grover threw in the crown of daisies he had been wearing and sobbed as he named each nymph and satyr that had fallen in the battle, while the spirits that normally remained in the woods looked on silently. Finally, Nico sat down after throwing Bianca's second flower in the fire- one for Artemis and one for Hades. I was the last councilor to stand.

I had no demigod siblings to mourn, and I was still the only camper in Cabin Three despite my father's joke last summer. But not all of the deaths had been said yet, and not all of the fallen had known who their parent was. For some of them, we only knew their names. For some of the rest, we didn't even know that. We'd done our best, though, and so I began throwing in the flowers for the demigods that had fought with the Titans.

"…Ethan Namakura." Ethan, who had died trying to fix his mistakes, and only wanted respect for his mother. I threw in a black-eyed susan, and followed it with a blue forget-me-not. For the last name, I'd had an unusually serious talk with Travis and Connor Stoll about who would throw the flower, and how many would be thrown. In the end, we had left him with the side he fought on. "Luke Castellan."

I looked around me. I wasn't great at speeches, but Chiron had insisted I say a few words, and Annabeth agreed. I had led them against Kronos, and although things had calmed down a lot, the halfbloods and nature spirits that had fought at the Battle of Manhattan still considered me a leader. The thought terrified me, but I tried not to let them down.

"We lost a lot of good people last year. On both sides. Some of us fought to preserve what we liked about Western Civilization. Some of us fought because we wanted to change the things we thought were unfair. If we hadn't fought, nothing would have lasted. And if we hadn't fought, nothing would have changed."

It hadn't been easy to integrate all of the new campers. A few of the members of the new cabins had been trying to kill us a few weeks before they came to camp. I'd been around more this year, and had been drawn into mediating a lot of the arguments. I had led the defense against Kronos's army and had knocked a lot of them out myself, but I had also made the deal that had given the new campers a home at Camp Half-Blood and given their parents thrones on Olympus. All of the former members of Kronos's army knew what I'd given up for the peace, and that even without Annabeth, I didn't regret my choice.

"It's been a hard year, but we've started rebuilding what got broken, and we've fixed some of what needed to be fixed. All we can do now is keep trying. The next time we see our brothers and sisters and cousins who died fighting for what they believed in, we need to be able to tell them about what we built out of their sacrifice, and make sure that they're proud of what they died for."

So many of the faces were new. Leo Valdez, in Hephaestus cabin, who had hunted down and repaired Beckendorf's bronze dragon less than a week after he'd gotten to camp, and then decided to give it wings. Piper McLean, who had volunteered for a quest to recover a stranded child of Hecate and who had promptly challenged for and won the position of Aphrodite Cabin's councilor when she got back. Clovis, the sleepy head of Hypnos's new cabin, who probably would have stayed unclaimed forever if he had come here before the war. They'd all found out who their godly parent was in their first week here, instead of having to wait for them to get around to noticing their kids. Yeah, it had been worth it.

"We can't forget," I finished. "We'll mourn, and we'll go on. We can't ever forget, but if we all keep working, we can make what we have better than what they had, and that will be the best memorial we could give them."

I turned and sat back down between Rachel and Grover, in front of where Annabeth was sitting with the rest of Cabin Six. She toed me in the back and gave me a grin of approval when I glanced back at her. "Not bad."

I mimed wiping my forehead in relief- she'd refused to help me write the speech, saying it was something that needed to be obviously from me. She had helped me memorize the list of the dead, though. Even with the names written in Greek it hadn't been easy.

"Thank you, Percy," Chiron said, coming forward one final time. He had been the stand-in director all year; Mr. D had been spending his time in Olympus. After the war, Zeus had halved his sentence, and was apparently also turning a blind eye to his extended conjugal visit. "As a final reminder, anyone who does not sign up to stay over the school year by noon tomorrow must have vacated their cabins by sunset, before the cleaning harpies come around. It would be a pity to end the summer on a sour note."

As the rest of the campers filed back to their cabins, Rachel, Annabeth, Grover, and I, along with some of the other friends Rachel had made in camp this summer, made our way to the newly-remodeled Oracle's Cave. It was appropriately spooky on the outside, but was actually a comfortable apartment with, as Apollo had suggested, an impressive entertainment deck with a large-screen TV in the game room. We had taken to spending the hour before curfew watching old movies and TV shows. Rachel's tastes tended to be artsy, but after Casablanca, Clarisse had staged a revolution and demanded Braveheart, and the choice rotation had continued.

As the opening credits of the current sci-fi series started, I nudged Grover and said, "I decided on a name."

'Take my love, take my land,

Take me where I cannot stand,

I don't care, I'm still free.

You can't take the sky from me.'

"For your ship?" he guessed instantly, getting the attention of most of the people around us. I'd made a lot of progress this year, although I still wasn't ready to sail. The holes were gone- all of them. When I'd brought the new pieces of wood to replace the parts that were missing, all I had to do to add them was cut them to the right length and slot the wood into missing places. My ship wanted to be whole. It didn't matter that the boards were straight and the hull was curved- the boards bent at my request and fused with the old wood, until the only way you could tell that she had been injured was the color difference between the boards, and even that had gone away when I tarred and painted it. (Using a water-based paint while painting a ship's hull underwater had been surreal. I just applied a coat and asked it to dry.)

'Take me out to the black,

Tell them I ain't comin' back

Burn the land and boil the sea,

You can't take the sky from me.'

"Yeah. I'm bringing her to the surface tomorrow. I need a name, and I really like this song." She didn't have sails yet and I needed to haul over the new rope that had just been delivered, but she was basically seaworthy. I was going to spend my senior year making her livable. Annabeth had already offered to redesign the interior layout, Leo and Nyssa from Hephaestus Cabin were going to be helping me install modern plumbing and electric wiring, and Lacy and a couple of her siblings from Aphrodite Cabin wanted to do the interior decorating although I was a bit nervous about what they'd come up with.

'There's no place I can be

Since I found Serenity,

You can't take the sky from me.'

Clarisse, on Grover's other side, looked at me incredulously. "You're naming it 'Serenity'? You?"

"Not Serenity." Though I'd considered it. "Firefly."

" 'Take my love, take my land,' huh?" Grover glanced at Annabeth, who didn't look back at us from where she was making the popcorn. Things between me and Annabeth were pretty much like they'd always been, but with an extra bit of 'what-if'. I was just glad I hadn't broken us. "I like it."

"Yeah." It had taken me long enough to decide on a name. "Me too."

After the episode was finished, Rachel asked me to hang back to clean up while everyone else attempted to avoid the harpies. The campfire had taken longer than usual, and we'd gone a bit past lights out. As Clarisse's battle-cry and Leo's flames lit up the night air outside, Rachel handed me a wrapped box and said, "My dad's car is coming early tomorrow, so I won't be able to give this to you. Happy birthday."

"Thanks!" On unwrapping it, though, it turned out to be the latest smartphone and a hands-free headset. A really nice present, for anyone but a demigod. "Um, thanks, Rachel, but…"

"It tells monsters where the half-blood buffet is, yeah, I didn't forget," the redhead interrupted. "But, seriously, Percy, how many armies have you taken down singlehandedly?"

Two. One down in the Underworld and one on the Williamsburg Bridge. "Still, I'm not going to draw monsters home on purpose. That happens too often anyway."

"You can keep it turned off when you're at home, and you probably should, like Annabeth does," she agreed, "but I've just got a hunch that you're going to need it. It's got an international calling plan that's connected to my family one. My dad won't notice."

I put the headset on and pulled Riptide out of my pocket, trying a couple of sword swings. I'd probably be able to fight while talking- she'd put some thought into this. And I wasn't about to ignore the Delphic Oracle when she told me I'd need something. "Why wouldn't an Iris message be enough?"

She shrugged. "Maybe you'll be out of drachmas? I don't know. But call me if you need to."

"I'll call you even when I don't need to," I promised. "My mom, too. I know she's been nervous about letting me go off on my own- having a way for me to keep in touch more regularly might help. Or maybe make her worried more about me fighting a thousand monsters each time we talk, but it'll be something she's used to worrying about."

"Thanks," she smiled at the promise to keep in touch, even though I'd been planning on it anyway with IM's. "And there's something else, too… would you come to my Homecoming dance with me?"

I wasn't sure I'd heard her right. Hadn't we settled that a year ago? "Uh… don't you have a divine restriction on dating?"

"On sex, technically, but yeah, romance isn't exactly encouraged." She ran a hand through her hair, flopping down on her couch. "And, my mom doesn't really get that, and it's not like I can explain about being the Delphic Oracle. She still thinks I'm hung up on you. And Clarion is an all-girls academy, so you wouldn't think it would be a problem there, but we've got a boy's school that we have events like Homecoming and proms with, and I've turned down enough of the guys from there that someone started rumors saying I'm a lesbian. And that's made the locker room kind of uncomfortable."

"Is anyone bullying you?" I wasn't sure what I could do about it if they were, but she was at that school in the first place because she'd tried to help us at the battle to defend Olympus last year. Otherwise she'd still be at Goode with me.

"I've got my brush if anyone tried," she grinned at me. Yeah, anyone who'd hit a Titan with a hairbrush wouldn't have any problem with high-school girls. "And I don't like relying on it much, but it's the kind of place where everyone keeps track of the fact that my family could buy and sell theirs. So, nothing physical, and nothing really to my face, but it would just be easier if I had a boyfriend to point at. You know about my oath, and I trust you not to try anything, and you're not planning on dating anyone else before you leave."

I shrugged. "If it'll help, sure. Just let me know when I'll need to be there, and I'll get Blackjack to bring me to Connecticut."

Later that evening, as I lay in my bunk after letting the watch harpies break their claws on my Styx-protected skin on the way back to the cabin, I realized that I was sort-of dating Rachel.

"Well," I said into the darkness, "She probably won't expect me to remember our anniversary."

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August 18, the next morning. Exactly one year after the Second Olympian War ended.

"Dude, you didn't say you had artillery," Leo Valdez yelled as he and Jake Mason swooped by on Festus. The golden mechanical dragon backwinged and grabbed the twelve-pounder that was dangling from the new ropes I'd let snake up the mainmast right after the ship had breached the surface half an hour ago.

"Yes I did!" I yelled back. "That's why you're here, remember?" A rope lashed out and plucked him off the dragon, and Jake laughed and waved as Festus headed back to shore. I grabbed the same rope that was coiled around Leo and let it lower both of us to the deck. When we were safely down, he continued the conversation as though he hadn't just been snatched off a moving automaton from a hundred feet up.

"Yeah, but I was picturing hunks of useless metal. These aren't even that rusted. They're moving. And how can you direct everything in the ship even without looking at it? It's creepy."

"Says the firebender," I answered cheerfully, and made the cannon he'd just sat on come loose from the chains that had fixed it to the deck for two centuries and roll over to the mast. He jumped off and flipped me the bird.

"Waterbending doesn't do this. And, if they can still work, why're you getting rid of the cannons? What if you're attacked by monsters and need weapons?"

"You're kidding, right? Where would I get the shot and gunpowder for them? And why would I want to? I'll be travelling alone, and I can't levitate the cannonballs and powder into them during a fight." Yes, I'd tried. Ship control powers didn't extend that far, unfortunately.

Leo frowned, and went to the cannons on the other side of the deck as I rode the next one back up to the top yardarm of the main mast. He looked at the cannons I was still releasing and moving to gather around the main mast, then pulled out some sketch paper and a pencil from his tool belt of holding and started drawing. (And he was right- I hadn't realized how much I could sense about what was happening on the Firefly until someone else was on board, but the fact that I knew exactly what he was doing when I was a hundred feet up and watching Festus come back was kind of creepy.)

When Jake had successfully grabbed the second cannon and was heading to shore, I swung myself back on deck and turned to catch the sketch pad I had felt Leo throw at the back of my head. "What am I looking at?"

"Revolvers!" He'd started taking measurements of one of the cannon barrels. "Some Greek fire as the fuel and projectile, a revolving mechanism in the body to reload, and you're armed!"

"Greek fire? Leo, she's been sunk by her own magazine once already!"

He looked at me oddly, and then set himself on fire.

This wasn't as unusual as it sounds- his unexpectedly revealing that ability had given Hephaestus Cabin the victory in his first Capture-the-Flag game- but now he was doing it on my ship.

"Are you insane?" I immediately doused him with what seemed like half the water in the Sound.

He sputtered, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. He looked like a drowned rat. "What was that for?"

"What was- you tried to set my ship on fire!"

"Yeah, 'tried' being the key word there," he muttered. "You kind of proved my point, Aquaman. No fire's going to start on this ship without you stopping it."

For a normal fire, sure, I'd sense it, but… "Seawater doesn't put out Greek fire. They use it for light in my dad's palace."

"Yeah, but I didn't even singe the deck, and I was trying." He pointed down, and I looked. He was right- the deck was unmarked. "Look, just let Uncle Leo show you how it's going to work, OK?"

He took a hold of a dangling rope, and his hand lit up. The flames traveled along the rope and up to the mast, but he was right- the fire didn't actually burn anything. It was just there, making that part of me feel warm. I took a spare page out of the sketchpad and held it up to the rope, and the paper caught fire like normal. Leo let the fire in his hand die, and the fire on the rope and mast disappeared along with it. The fire on the paper stayed lit, because it had fuel of its own. I let it fall to the deck, and could feel the paper land, and knew that this real fire wouldn't burn anything either. It wouldn't burn anything because I didn't want the Firefly to be damaged.

"Are you satisfied, or should we actually haul some of the green stuff out here? I know burning, man. She's fireproof until you decide not to be."

I swallowed. "I didn't know I could do that."

"And now you do, because I'm brilliant. You're welcome. Mind drying me off, or do I need to set myself on fire again?" He balled his outstretched hand, and I gave him a fist-bump that left him dry and unsalted. "So, the cannons?"

I began to grin. I liked the thought of extremely destructive guns I could control with my mind as much as the next teenage boy. "Yeah, go nuts, and you can keep some. I don't need sixteen. They take up a lot of room."

His grin matched mine. "How many?"

"Half and half?"

"Works for me!" He whistled, and Festus roared as Jake circled above us. I hurriedly hauled the third cannon up the mast, without bothering to ride up with it this time.

"Are you going to try to go on a quest this year?" I asked, watching them fly away. It was common knowledge among the counselors that Jake wanted Leo as his successor as Cabin Nine's leader, and that he'd almost handed the position over when Leo had fixed the out-of-control dragon last winter after Jake had been seriously injured trying. He probably would have succeeded if Leo had had even one quest under his belt, but Chiron hadn't wanted a complete rookie, even one as powerful as Leo, to replace a war veteran as a counselor. Jake had kept the position, but was heading out for his first semester at NYU today and had made Leo his deputy.

"Yeah. Chiron's already told me I'm leading the retrieval mission, the next time we get a distress call." He ran a hand through his hair and looked even twitchier than usual. "Do you want to come along?"

"Not if you're riding the dragon." With the near-invulnerability from the Styx in addition to the Big Three heritage, I was the most powerful demigod the camp had ever had, and I liked using that to help out. Chiron had needed to have more than one discussion with me about when to step back and let other people prove themselves. Most of the 'quests' we got sent on these days were calls from Grover's satyrs, and any team of trained demigods was usually enough to take care of it. The flight restriction was true and convenient, and I didn't really want to give Leo the same talk I'd gotten from Chiron at the Battle of Manhattan last year.

"Hey, what do you have against Festus? He's helping you out!" Leo usually talked like he thought the dragon was alive. I had the Firefly, though, so I got where he was coming from. Leo called my ship 'she', and I returned the favor.

"Yeah, I know, but I can't ride him. Zeus doesn't let his brothers' kids fly." I could see that Leo was about to point out that I'd been giving his cabin flying lessons since before he'd come to camp, and added, "Pegasi don't count. Horses are neutral territory. Poseidon created them, and the original Pegasus was Poseidon's son. If I try flying on anything else I get shot out of the sky."

That distracted him. ADHD at its finest. "Wait, so all of the pegasi in camp are your grandnephews?"

"Technically. You learn to limit your family." Tyson was still the only person I called my brother. "You'll do fine. Don't try to pick your team yet. Wait until you get the quest."

"Yeah. Thanks." He watched as his distant dragon settled on Fireworks Beach and left the cannon with the others; when we were finished I'd find out if I could still make them roll when they were off the ship.

Actually... I concentrated, and the cannon Jake had just delivered turned around and trundled towards the mess hall. "It still works."

"Huh?" Leo pulled a set of binoculars out of his belt and focused on the three cannons that were now forming a little parade. A few of the full-time campers that had come to watch me bring up the ship jogged after them; a younger demigoddess jumped on the one in front, and two of the other kids followed her example. "Huh. Not bad."

"I wasn't sure I could move them. I could sail the Queen Anne's Revenge from a distance, but it might have been different for a part that had gotten separated." I closed my eyes and focused as they circled the mess hall and I could no longer see them. This was only working because I knew the path really well; I had no sight from the cannons, just a sense of touch. The girl in front, one of the new kids in Athena's cabin, I think, grabbed the trailing chains when I hesitated and started directing the cannon like a horse, steering it through what I hoped was the mess hall tables. Above me, Jake and Festus grabbed the next cannon.

"So, you'll be armed, and I can start making plans for the wiring now that I've seen the ship. I know Grover thinks you should go solar all the way, but if that's what you want you'll need some serious batteries because it would suck if your heaters didn't work in winter because you hadn't seen the sun for a week, and you should probably still have a small generator just in case. For the plumbing, you can purify water yourself, right? So we won't need to build a filter system, but-"

I focused on my cannons and let Leo's chatter drift over me as he went below deck to take measurements. He wasn't really looking for comments, just a listening ear. We were on the ship for maybe another hour, until Leo finished and signaled for the now-riderless hovering dragon to pick him up. I hauled us both back up the mast one last time, and reversed the maneuver that had grabbed him off the dragon's back. Leo waved goodbye as the rope uncoiled from his chest, and I swung myself down the rope and back onto the deck. Or at least, that was the plan.

Bronze claws curled around me from behind, trapping my arms against my chest, and I was suddenly flying. I'm not ashamed to admit that I panicked a bit. (OK, a lot.) "Did you think I was joking, Leo? Let me go!"

"I'm trying! He thinks you're another cannon! It's the control disk- it's been acting up, and I'm not finished with the replacement!" He sounded panicked too. Styx, this wasn't a practical joke. And I had no leverage when I tried to push the claws open- I was stuck.

I closed my eyes and tried really hard not to pray. I knew exactly who would hear me.

We were descending towards Fireworks Beach when Leo yelled, "Got it!" and Festus, instead of opening his claws, swooped higher and cut over the forest towards the cabins. "No, sorry, wrong wire."

"Leo!"

"I said I was sorry! But, hey, no lightning yet, right? Live in the moment!"

We finally landed on the main quad, and the adrenaline-hyped part of me that kept track of all the tiny details on the battlefield noticed that my cannons (and they would always be mine, even if I left half of them to guard the camp) had been divided between Hephaestus, Ares, and Athena's cabins according to the rider. Festus finally let me go, and I fell to my knees and almost kissed the ground.

"Hey, we're alive!" Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Leo Valdez, Master of the Obvious.

"We must not have been flying high enough." I got up and managed to get my knees to stop trembling. "I used Daedalus' wings a couple of summers ago, and he didn't try to kill me. A higher altitude would have been bad."

"Or maybe he's just not paying attention." Leo's voice was slightly bitter as he yanked a couple of wires out of the dragon. "Maybe none of them are. I've never even seen that D guy, and he's supposed to work here."

I knew it wasn't Mr. D or Zeus that he was angry at. All of the kids at camp had been claimed, but for the newcomers, that was where it had ended. The Olympians, and even the minor gods, hadn't been in touch. I was enjoying the peace and quiet, but I'd also met my dad, and knew he cared about me. Leo didn't have that.

"Annabeth says the gods are still pretty busy. It wasn't just Olympus. Typhon did a lot of damage and the ocean got trashed."

"Sure." He wasn't buying the excuse any more than I was, and changed the subject. "So, since you can ride Festus, want to go on a quest?"

"Leo? You don't need me. Suck it up and lead."

Yeah, I was no Chiron, but it got the point across.

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"Ready to head out, Blackjack?" Most of my stuff was staying at camp, since I was still going to be spending at least one night a week here. I was only carrying a backpack on my back and an apple in my hand.

Always, boss. The black pegasus chomped on the apple cheerfully while I mounted. In a minute, we were airborne and doing a flyover of the Sound before turning towards New York.

Your wreck's looking better. You got the bugs off.

"Yeah. She's going to be beautiful when I raise the sails."

When are you going to leave?

"After camp next year, probably. Mom doesn't want me to leave before I'm eighteen. I should be able to get the rest of the work done this school year, and I'll make some short trips during the summer."

Oh. We flew in silence for a few minutes, and then Blackjack asked,

Got room for one more? I don't think a pegasus has ever gone around the world before. It might be fun.

I stiffened in surprise, and he felt it and snorted. What, did you think I'd let you go off without me?

"I don't know how long I'll be gone," I warned him. "Or how often I'll be able to visit New York. The lady pegasi would miss you in the spring."

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, he replied smugly. And a far-flying pegasus is hot.

"Then… yeah." I swallowed, touched. "Yeah, I've got room for one more. I'll build a stall for you on deck when we head back next weekend."

A stall? Who needs it? I'll be spending most of my time in the air. Just bring oats. And apples. And sugar. And make sure you find a doughnut place when we hit land.

"I think I can manage something to keep the rain off, at least. Maybe a shelter on deck that I can put up when we hit a storm. And… thanks, Blackjack."

You need someone to watch your back, boss.

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At my birthday party that night, it was just me, Mom, and Paul. We'd gotten pizza at a nice restaurant, with a welcome interruption by a birthday Iris-message from Tyson that appeared in the middle of the pie. He said that reconstruction under the sea was going well, but that our father's visits had been nonexistent. He was shut up on Olympus and was only in contact with Triton for official business. We said good-bye at around the time that the people from the neighboring tables went from aggravated looks to actual requests to keep it down; Hecate only knows what they were actually seeing, but it must have been annoying.

Back home, there was birthday cake (blue, of course) and gifts. Most of them were stuff to take with me on the ship; Mom got me a hoodie with the logo 'my boat, my rules' and a baseball cap saying 'I'm the captain. Get over it.' From Paul, I got a year's subscription to a sailing magazine. The big gifts were a detailed set of navigational charts for the European coast and the Mediterranean, where I was planning on heading first, and gift certificates for a sailing course and a coastal navigation course at a Manhattan sailing club.

I raised the sailing certificate. It was the birthday for odd gifts, apparently. "Uh, thanks, but…"

"Just because you know how to use a car, doesn't mean you know the rules of the road, Percy," Mom said firmly. "I checked, and they make sure to teach the safety signals and navigational signs you'll see in occupied waters. One trip on a mythological sea does not mean that you have the experience you'll need in a harbor."

I shrugged. She'd been amazing about my deciding to put my education and potential job off for as long as possible in order to bum around the world on an ancient boat. This would make her happy, and at least it was a classroom I'd enjoy. "Think I can get an 'A'?"

"Another one?" Her smile was proud. The celebration we'd had at the beginning of summer when I brought home an A in physics and a solid B in pre-calculus had been bigger than when I'd got home after the war. "I think you'll blow them out of the water."

Paul chuckled, and reached out to take Mom's hand. "Only, please, not literally. And, Percy, there's something else important we have to tell you…"

My mom lost her smile and gripped Paul's hand tightly. They did a quick couple-communication thing with their eyes, and then she sighed and said, "Percy, I'm pregnant."

I wasn't sure I'd heard her right, and just kind of sat there staring at her for a minute. Pregnant? I mean, she was only thirty-six, but somehow I'd never thought that a second marriage might equal a second kid. It hadn't ever come up with Gabe, but she'd probably been pretty careful about birth control with him. (She'd probably been pretty careful with my dad, too, but human birth control didn't usually work with gods and goddesses.) If she was pregnant this time, it was because she wanted to be.

"Percy?" she asked worriedly. It broke me out of my daze.

"That's… that's great! When? Is it a boy or girl?"

She relaxed, and I realized how afraid she'd been that I'd be upset about it. "I'm two months along, so next March. We won't know the gender for a few more weeks."

I got up and gave her a hug, and Paul a clap on the shoulder. "Congratulations! Seriously, that's the best news I've had all summer. Have you talked about names?"

"Well, if it's a girl, we're thinking either Estelle, after my mother, or Andromeda."

"Theme naming? Weird. Plus, she married Perseus, so go with Estelle," I advised. Mom laughed.

"If it's a boy, probably James, after Sally's father," Paul added. He was looking a lot happier too; I hadn't noticed his tension until it was gone. We continued celebrating for the rest of the evening, and I did my best to show how happy I was for them, and how much I was looking forward to having another sibling.

I tried to hide the creeping terror, and thanked the gods that I'd already made plans to leave. They would never have to think they'd driven me away.

I didn't manage that as well as I'd hoped. Paul came onto the small balcony after me later, while I was watering the moonflowers. Mom took care of them mostly, but had planted a few in a flowerbox that she insisted would come with me when I sailed, and she made me water them during the school months.

"Your mother is getting ready for bed. Just between us, I need to know, are you all right? We can talk it through if you're worried."

"I'm happy for you," I answered firmly. "Paul, you both deserve this. You're going to be a great dad."

"You know we're not replacing you, right?" He looked at me earnestly.

"I know. It's Mom." The only real constant I'd had my entire life came from knowing that my mom loved and was proud of me, despite everything. "It's just… half-bloods attract monsters. Around a pregnant woman, or a baby… I'm scared."

"I know. We talked about it, before she went off the pill at the beginning of the summer. But we really want you to be here. You shouldn't learn you're getting a sibling when you're an ocean away."

That didn't actually make me feel much better. That my mom and Paul knew the risk and decided to go ahead anyway didn't mean there should be any risk.

I got an idea. A stupid idea, yeah, but I was good at making those work. "I need to head out for a while. Do you mind?"

He frowned.

"I'll be back before midnight."

"Is it for your…" He did the hand-circle that had come to be the family sign for 'demigod-thing'.

"Yeah. I need to test out a birthday present." I went back to my room to grab my upper-body armor.

Half an hour later, Rachel's phone rang three times before she picked up. I used every bit of my minor Mist-manipulation ability to try to make sure that no-one would notice the battle that was about to start in the middle of Central Park's Great Lawn.

"Percy? What's going on?" She sounded confused, but not like I'd woken her up. It was probably a bit after ten now, too early for her to be asleep.

"I just want to talk. Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah! I mean, yeah, sure, but… I kind of thought you'd be waiting until after you sailed away to use the phone. What about monsters?"

I saw the first sign of movement above me. A Stymphalian bird, and the rest of its flock would join it soon. A dracenae slithered out of the Reservoir in the distance. It had probably been hunting from there since the end of the war.

I uncapped Riptide. "Let them come."

I figured a good boyfriend should call once a week. The monster population of New York was about to be drastically reduced.

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June, two years after the end of the Second Olympian War.

I made sure not to toss my cap too high. I wanted to keep it. There had been a lot of times I didn't think I'd get this far.

A couple of hours later, I was nursing a can of soda at the post-graduation party. Mom had been at the ceremony, but had left right after congratulating me since Estelle was getting fussy. Paul was on the other side of the room guarding the punch- most of the teachers had been roped into chaperoning. Rachel hadn't been able to see all of her old friends from Goode in person when she'd come with me to my senior prom, but left the group that she was catching up with and came over to where I was leaning against the wall anyway.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She gave me a look that said she knew I was lying, and I sighed. "It's stupid, but I'd kind of hoped… well, it's been a couple of years since I've heard from my dad. I thought he might come today."

"Yeah, about the gods…" She fished an envelope out of her purse. "Happy graduation."

I opened it, and pulled out a brochure and a receipt for lessons for two. It took me a while to make out the wording on the brochure, at first because the letters twisted around, and then because I was sure I hadn't read it right the first time. "You want me dead? What, did I miss your birthday or something?"

"The king of the gods is not paying attention, Percy." Despite the words, she was careful not to use his name. That was smart, considering what she'd just given me. "You know that already. When was the last time you saw anyone higher up in the pantheon than a river god?"

I actually had to think hard about it. "On Grover's birthday, two years ago. Apollo had a concert and wanted us to find something for him."

"Exactly. No-one's heard from them recently but Annabeth, and they haven't left Olympus or let anyone but her in for a long time. I know you miss your dad, but at least you've met him, right?"

"Yeah." I had a great mom and stepdad, and my father loved me even if he couldn't be around a lot. I knew I was luckier than a lot of demigods, but that didn't always make it easy. I looked at the brochure again. "So what's this for, then?"

"Well, when the cat's away, the mice can play, right? You're not the center of the universe anymore. Your prophecy is over, and the gods have other problems. You can either cry me a river, or…" She tapped the brochure and grinned.

"…Promise me you've seen us living through this."

"I swear on Apollo's name."

Good enough. I grinned back at her. "Then let's go skydiving."

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August 18, exactly two years after the end of the Second Olympian War.

"Poseidon."

I scraped a spare-rib into the small eternal brazier that Chiron had given me last week, almost certainly as a reminder not to forget to respect the gods. I sat down next to my mom and took Estelle to let her and Paul eat while Tyson and my other friends made their offerings; I don't know what the rest of the restaurant thought they saw, but no one had complained about the fire-code violation yet. Half of Camp Half-Blood, it seemed, was gathered around the back table of the barbecue restaurant. I didn't often have a big crowd for my birthday, since it usually landed a few days after camp ended, but this was doubling as a farewell sendoff. I was flattered that so many had shown up.

Camp had ended at the normal time this year; last year, Chiron had extended the season by a few days so we could have the memorial on the day most of our campers had died. My ship was finally finished and moored on the Hudson. I'd been sailing her on day-trips around the Sound all summer, and the camp bead this year showed the Firefly-vs.-triremes battle from three weeks ago, where we'd substituted green paint for Greek fire in the cannons and catapults.

(I won. No matter what Clarisse said, using waterspouts to catch and return projectiles is not cheating. And Ares Cabin should have known better than to challenge a son of Poseidon to a war on the water anyway.)

Mom and Paul saw the Firefly for the first time when I sailed it back to New York after camp closed last week, and we spent four days sailing up the coast and back. My little sister, now five months old, had taken the trip well. My mom thought the rocking soothed her. I figured it meant that I didn't get everything from my dad's side of the family; Mom had fallen in love with the sea all on her own. Paul spent the first day seasick, but got his sea legs in time to enjoy the last half of the trip.

At Annabeth's suggestion, I had combined the captain's cabin and one of the holds into a cabin where I actually had room to stretch, and left the other two cabins the same size, but furnished them with new bunks for when I had passengers. The small mess area had a modern stove and a fridge and freezer, all of which were powered from a series of roll-out solar panels on deck that followed my commands as easily as the cannons did, and the head had a fresh-water shower and a compost toilet. The main room that had once been the crew quarters had a couple of comfortable couches, a low-slung table, an entertainment system with a satellite TV and internet hookup, and built-in shelves that I wasn't sure I would ever fill.

Turning the decorating over to Aphrodite Cabin had not resulted in the pink frilly monstrosity that I'd been halfway afraid of, and the furniture and paint in the public areas were all in warm shades of browns, reds, and dark oranges that I actually really liked. I felt Piper's influence, although she denied having any talent in decorating and had mostly given her siblings free rein. My own cabin was blue and green, and felt like a cozier version of Cabin Three; Lacy had been determined to go with a sea-god scheme in at least one part of the ship.

I was ready to leave. I had been ready ever since the last sail was raised; as soon as it was actually possible to sail away, the crawling that had been under my skin since the end of the war had gotten ten times worse. It lessened whenever I weighed anchor, but came back as soon as I turned the ship around to sail home. I had become as distractible as Leo this summer; I was just glad that I had finished school before finishing my ship, or I'd probably have flunked out again.

Annabeth kicked me under the table. "Percy!"

"What?" I asked, startled out of thoughts of tomorrow.

"You haven't been listening at all, have you? Speech!"

"Speech!" Will Solace agreed. The rest of the campers took up the chant. "Speech! Speech! Speech!"

I rolled my eyes and stood, holding out my hands until they quieted down.

"Thanks for coming. I'm gonna miss you guys." I paused. "Yeah, I've got nothing else."

I sat back down to loud booing, and they took up the chant again until I stood up one more time. "Fine, fine, if you insist. Let's talk about the future. Rachel, do you mind?"

Rachel and I had lived through the skydiving lessons, obviously. There hadn't even been a hint of thunder. It had been incredible; flying on a pegasus was completely different from free-falling.

She smiled at me from the far end of the table. "Go ahead."

"What is my destiny?"

She stiffened, and breathed green smoke from her mouth, making a nearby waiter remind us that we couldn't smoke inside.

"On the waves of Manannan mac Lir

Where the children of Morrigan breed

The dream of the poets and seers

Shall offer the prize that you need.

The choice between knowledge and wisdom,

Made well, is the choice that will send

The son of the sea on a journey

That continues for time without end."

Rachel collapsed; Nyssa and Jake caught her before she could fall into her brisket. The rest of the table was silent. It was a pretty unusual prophecy. They didn't usually contain actual names.

"…Who?" Pollux finally asked.

"Well, the 'son of the sea' is pretty obvious," Annabeth said, frowning. "The other two… the name Manannan is familiar, but I can't think of from where…"

"Irish mythology. He's a sea god," my mom answered. She got a couple of surprised looks, which turned to embarrassment as everyone remembered exactly why she had a good reason to be the authority on sea gods at the table.

The second name came from an even more unexpected source. Clarisse said, "I think I know the other name. Morrigan was a war goddess. Her sacred animals are carrion birds. Crows and ravens. She might have been from Ireland, I can't remember."

"But they're not real, right?" Leo asked.

"They might have been once," Grover answered grimly. "Gods that forget themselves, or that lose the source of their power… well, they fade. It happened to Helios and Selene. It happened to Pan."

I glanced down at my palm, where a few months ago a strange kid with a wand and crooked sword had drawn a summoning spell for if I ever encountered his brand of mythology again. I hadn't told anyone that the monster that had eaten Guido's girlfriend had been an enchanted Nile Crocodile. We were at peace. We didn't need to go looking for trouble. But if the gods of Egypt were still around…

Rachel groaned and shook her head as she came out of her post-prophecy daze. "That never gets any less weird. What did I say?"

"I need to go to Ireland and look for crows, have a dream, make a choice, and keep on going. Does that sound about right?" I looked around.

" 'The dream of the poets and seekers' may not refer to any dream you're going to have. You aren't much of a poet, although we may all qualify as seers because of the demigod dreams," Annabeth pointed out. "It also doesn't say you're going to be the one making a choice."

"I'll find out when I get there, then. Ireland will be a fun first stop. And I really like the last line." I raised my glass. "I think I've been standing up here long enough, so how about a toast? To all of us, and to Camp Half-blood. May our journeys never end."

We made the toast, and I managed to keep from spacing out for the rest of the party. They sang 'Happy Birthday', there was cake, and I enjoyed one final night with my friends and family. It almost made me regret leaving. Almost.

As people were filing out saying good-bye and after I'd settled the check, Nico di Angelo appeared next to me. He hadn't actually shadow-travelled, although he moved so quietly these days that it seemed like it. He'd been sitting next to Grover all night, and had seemed to have a good time helping him and Piper mock the restaurant's vegetarian selection.

I was glad; the fourteen-year-old was hardly ever at camp even though his father had a cabin now. Spending that much time around dead people couldn't be healthy, but he tended to disappear whenever Chiron or I tried to get him to stay longer. He seemed to enjoy the job of his dad's ambassador, at least. He and Annabeth were the only demigods still in contact with their parents, since they visited them at home regularly, and if they knew anything about why the gates of Olympus were shut neither of them was able to talk about it.

Once I'd finished jumping out of my skin, he handed me a finger-sized package in black paper. "Happy birthday, Percy."

"Thanks, Nico. And, thanks for coming. It was good to see you." The package turned out to be a… whistle?... of freezing-cold black metal. "Is this Stygian iron?"

"Yeah. Daedalus made a few dog whistles for Cerberus a year or so back. It's like the Stygian ice whistle that he gave you, but you can use it more than once. Your dog will hear it and come. I tried."

Wow. "Thanks, Nico. I've been feeling guilty about leaving her behind, but Mrs. O'Leary's too big to take on the ship."

He twisted his ring nervously. "That's not why I gave it to you. I mean, if you want to play with your dog when you're on land, great, but she can shadow-walk you back to New York. When you want to visit, I mean."

"Oh." I looked at the whistle with new respect, and added it to my necklace, arranging the beads so that the whistle was in the center. "Thank you, Nico. I wasn't looking forward to not seeing anyone here for years. I mean, it's not like I'd risk an international plane trip, and I'm not going to ask Blackjack to carry me across an ocean."

"You're welcome." He gave me one of the few real smiles I'd seen from him since his sister's death. "There's one other thing… hearing your prophecy made me think of it. I told you I'd shadow-walked to China a couple of times when I was still learning, right?"

"Yeah."

"Over there, my powers didn't all work. I could still shadow-walk, but when I tried to summon the dead, they didn't obey me. I eventually figured out that… that they didn't owe allegiance to my father."

"Just a second." Most of the campers were gone, and Mom and Paul had gone home to put Estelle to bed an hour ago, but I pulled him into a more isolated corner anyway. He jerked his shoulder out from under my hand like I'd burned him; I'd forgotten he didn't like to be touched. "Did you meet whoever they belonged to?"

He gaped at me. That obviously hadn't been the question he was expecting. "You believe me? Just like that?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"You know other gods still exist?" His voice cracked in surprise. I'd been so glad when my voice stopped doing that; there was nothing more embarrassing than suddenly going squeaky in front of the Olympian council.

"Yeah." I hadn't told anyone else about meeting Carter, but Nico seemed to know about all this already. "Earlier in the spring I went after a monster on Long Island that had eaten one of the pegasi. It wasn't a Greek monster. There was another guy hunting it, and he wasn't a demigod, but my sword was able to cut him. We wound up working together."

"Oh." Nico seemed relieved. I guess because I wasn't calling him either crazy or blasphemous. "Was the monster Chinese?"

I shook my head. "Egyptian. The kid was a magician. He gave me a way to contact him if anything like that came up again, but I haven't seen anything else. You're the first person I've told."

He nodded. "My father suggested I not share the information. But you actually want to go to China at some point, right? So I thought you'd find out anyway."

"Thanks. And I'll keep an eye out for any Irish gods." I looked at him thoughtfully. It couldn't hurt to ask, right? "Would you like to come with me?"

He went bright red. "What?"

Never mind, yes it could. No matter how friendly we'd been tonight, there was a lot of bad history between us, from Bianca's death to his handing me over to his father. But I'd already made the offer, so I forged ahead anyway.

"I've got extra cabins, and you could shadow-travel back home if you ever got tired of sailing. I'm going to Italy eventually. Don't you want to go back? Or actually tour China for real?"

"Um, no, not really," he stammered. "And if I did I'd shadow-travel there. There's no place for me on your ship."

I frowned at that. "Is this a son of Hades thing? Because if it is, I don't think my dad cares. Z- the king of the gods may be a jerk about us flying, but I'm pretty sure you can go sailing."

"Yes." He grabbed onto that like a lifeline. "Yes, it's a son of Hades thing. I don't sail. I get… um, seasick. Really seasick."

I called minotaur-dung. He still blamed me for Bianca. At least I'd made the effort, though.

"OK. Let me know if you change your mind, all right? The offer's always open."

"I won't." He stepped into a shadow and disappeared. I was pretty sure I'd somehow just made our tentative friendship even shakier. I sighed and went back to where Annabeth and Rachel were waiting.

"I guess this is good-bye, then?" Annabeth gave me a small smile.

"Not for good," I promised. "Nico just gave me a magic dog whistle. I'll catch up with everyone at Christmas. And we can IM, and I'll post pictures of everywhere I go."

"You'd better. Get some good ones of the Parthenon. I'll get there eventually." She stepped forward and gave me a hug. "Be careful, Kelp-head. The old seas are dangerous."

"I will be," I promised. I let go of her and turned to Rachel. "Do I get a hug?"

"Percy, we need to talk." She was trying to look serious, but her lips were twitching. "I don't think this is working out- you're going across the ocean, and I'm going to art school, and, well…"

I clutched my heart. "Are you… breaking up with me?"

"I'd say that 'it's not you, it's me', but I'd be lying. We both know it's you."

I grabbed her hand and stared deep into her eyes. "Rachel, please! I can change!"

She finally burst out laughing and broke my grip. Someone had been teaching her self-defense - probably Annabeth, who was laughing along with her. She gave me a hug, then punched my shoulder as she stepped away. "Don't, Percy. Don't ever change."

"Ow. And now you're abusing me. What if that had been my mortal spot?" I rubbed my shoulder theatrically. "Worst girlfriend ever. You can't break up with me, I'm breaking up with you first."

"If that makes you feel better," she giggled. "Ask me for a prophecy if you ever need one, Percy. Stay safe."

"No promises about safety, but I'll be in touch."

We left the restaurant and went our separate ways. It had become much safer to be a demigod in New York this last year, and, more to the point, much safer to live with one. Once a week or so, I let every monster in a hundred-mile radius know where I was, and the ones that hated demigods came to kill me.

I was still alive. They weren't.

The next morning, I went to the closest dock and called. In the distance, the Firefly's sails furled and her anchor raised. As my clipper came closer to the dock, I shook Paul's hand and gave Estelle a kiss on the forehead while she tried to stuff both fists into her mouth. Precocious kid.

I turned into my mom's open arms. When had she gotten shorter than me?

"Mom. Thanks. For everything." For always believing in me, blessing everything I had ever tried to do, being there when I needed her and letting me go when she knew I was ready.

"I love you, Percy. You'll always be able to come home."

"I know. I love you, Mom."

The Firefly pulled up to the dock, and ropes swung down and wrapped around my last pieces of luggage and the five hundred pounds of dog kibble we'd picked up on the way. When they were hauled aboard, I took a deep breath and stepped away from my mom. This was it. It was finally happening.

The boarding ramp pulled itself up behind me, and the sails furled. The itching under my skin disappeared. Completely. I was at peace, for the first time that I could remember.

As the Firefly pulled away from the dock, I raised an arm one last time in farewell, and didn't turn back again. When I got to the center of the Hudson, Blackjack landed on the clear spot on the foredeck.

Are we ready to go, boss?

I pulled a box of doughnuts out of my backpack and pushed them towards him.

"Yeah, Blackjack. We're ready. Let's see what's out there."

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August 18th, exactly four years after the end of the Second Olympian War.

"Happy birthday, dear Percy, happy birthday to you!"

I blew out the twenty candles on my birthday cake. We were at a pizza place in East Manhattan, which had given me a great opportunity to describe in horrific detail the single time I'd tried to order pizza in Rome. (I still felt vaguely gypped.) It was a smaller party than two years ago. Mom and Paul were there, of course, with Estelle in a high-chair between them. She had Mom's brown hair and Paul's brown eyes, and was probably the most adorable toddler ever.

No, I'm not biased.

Annabeth , Rachel, Grover, and Nico were on the other side of the table; Annabeth and Rachel were going into their junior years at NYU's programs in architecture and art, respectively, and they were both minoring in classics. Nico was still working for his father, but had finally started spending enough time in camp to participate in the modern school classes that the year-round campers took.

Clarisse and Chris Rodriguez-La Rou were a bit farther down the table. They'd been passing through on their way back from their ROTC program's third-summer officer training, and had managed to make the party. Clarisse had finally officially handed her councilor position to one of her younger brothers last year, since she hadn't been able to be at camp in the summers. Leo and Piper, at the far end of the table, were still the councilors of their cabins, and were both about to start their first years of college.

"And here is your cake, Percy!" My brother Tyson had made it up from the ocean for my birthday, and was sitting between me and Clarisse. He handed me a corner piece. Nice.

As I took a drink before starting my cake, I felt a cool, salty sea breeze on my face, completely out of place in the slightly stuffy restaurant. I exchanged a glance with Tyson (which is an acquired skill with a Cyclops) and cut off a piece of my cake and tossed it into the brazier in the center of the table. It had had a frosting flower- that had been a real sacrifice.

"Poseidon."

I raised my Coke in salute.

I'm doing fine, Dad. Thanks for checking.

The breeze ruffled our hair and disappeared.

Mrs. O'Leary would shadow-walk me back to Japan in two days, and after a final night out in Tokyo, I'd sail for China. It had been an amazing two years, and I had no intention of stopping. After I'd made it around the world, I'd go around again. I hadn't made it back to the Americas, or sailed around Africa, or touched northern Europe. There was so much left to see.

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August 11, five years after the Second Olympian War.

"Your birthday is approaching again. We would like you to celebrate with us this year. Will you stay?"

"Sure, I'll let my family know."

"I really can't agree with this course of action. Wouldn't it be better to see if a longer isolation would send Gaia back to sleep entirely?" Dionysus asked.

Apollo jerked out of his light doze at the question and glanced around at the assembled Olympians. He often caught bits of information in his sleep, as the god of prophecy, though they weren't usually in Japanese. He thought he even recognized the woman's voice, although he'd never before heard it that full of affection, or actually with anything but cold formality covering seething anger. They had only met once, but she had been memorable. The man who answered her had also been familiar, although he couldn't place him among any of the Japanese speakers he knew.

It would come to him. He never forgot a voice.

He turned his attention back to the meeting, and threw up his hands.

"I am really bored.

The Western World needs its Sun.

Let the giants come."

"Eloquent as always, Apollo," Hermes said dryly, "but I agree. We have neglected our duties long enough. The mortals have fallen into recessions and political gridlock, droughts and storms rage unchecked and undirected, and they made movies of the Twilight series."

Murmurs of agreement rose from around the room, and from the few minor gods that observed from the recently constructed amphitheater that contained their new thrones. After their Styx-imposed obligations were fulfilled, the first few meetings had been well-attended, but everyone had figured out pretty quickly that there was nothing more boring than an Olympian council when nothing was happening. Zeus had decided to spread the misery, and attendance at both Solstice meetings had become mandatory for every god that had claimed a throne on Olympus.

Zeus rolled his eyes. "Yes, we are as recovered from the fight with Typhon as we ever will be, and the gates will be opened. Dionysus, you will return to your community service. The rest of you may resume your normal functions. You may watch your children, but keep your distance unless you must claim them. It's high time we went back to the traditional values."

Poseidon in particular looked mutinous at that, but before he could speak, Hera interjected with, "All of our power will not avail us alone against the giants. We must reunite with the demigods, and reconcile them with each other. If we fight the children of the Earth, our mortal children must fight beside us, or we are doomed to fail."

"We do not require a demigod's help again. Our reach and influence have grown greatly since the first Gigantomachy. Gaia will be defeated without any mortals this time," Zeus snapped. When their half-blood children saved Olympus and their leader turned down the reward he was offered, it had stuck in Zeus's craw. The rest of them had been grateful for a few months, but then the jokes had started among the minor immortals. 'Hey, did you hear about Jackson? They tried to make him a god, but he wasn't selfish enough.'

"It's got nothing to do with power. That's just how they were made," Ares interjected unexpectedly in support of his mother. He shrugged at the looks he was getting- they would expect a voice of reason in war from Mars, but the war god was firmly Greek at the moment. "What? There's no fun in an enemy that can't be killed. Defeat a giant without a demigod around, and he'll just get up again."

"We must resume contact with our children," Athena agreed. "Though I do not believe that the Romans will be necessary. The Greek demigods will suffice."

"That is a debate for another day," Hera said. She had been agitating to unite their sides since Gaia began stirring five years ago. Apollo was pretty sure that, as Juno, she would go ahead with her plan and ask for forgiveness later once the gates of Olympus were opened. He didn't care; his Greek and Roman forms were pretty much the same, down even to their names. And the last five years had been so dull, stuck keeping the vast majority of their power and awareness closeted up on a single mountain.

Hera continued, "We have always been more distant from Rome, but the Greek demigods will certainly have noticed our silence. The five-year anniversary of the end of the war is next week. Let us invite the defenders of Olympus and their siblings to join the celebration, and renew our bonds with your children."

"Seconded," Poseidon said immediately, followed just as quickly by Artemis, who had been separated from her Hunt for half a decade.

"Cut a giant into pieces and he will have as much difficulty reforming as Ouranos and Kronos did," Zeus snapped. "We do not need them."

"There is a prophecy, brother," Hestia spoke up unexpectedly. Her throne, a comfortable rocking chair of deep brown wood with flame-colored cushions, had been restored to its place between Hera's and Demeter's, just as a new, stark black Stygian Iron throne now sat between Poseidon's and Hephaestus's thrones. Both stayed empty unless it was a Solstice; Hestia still preferred the task of tending the hearth, and Hades stayed in the Underworld except when he transported himself directly to Olympus every winter and, now, summer.

Apollo personally thought that getting laid every summer had improved Hades' temperament immeasurably, though Demeter got noticeably crankier every June.

" 'Seven half-bloods shall answer the call'." Hestia rose from her stool, perfectly at ease as a normal-sized eight year old in the middle of the semicircle of fifteen-foot gods. "It means that we will be forced to call upon them. Your mortal children will play a part in this fight. This is fated. Struggling against it is pointless.

"Four of the Seven will come from Camp Half-blood, and the children of Aphrodite and Hephaestus have never met their parent. Hera's proposal is wise. Whether you choose to limit contact afterwards is up to you, but first show them what they will fight for. Let them see the flames of the West."

Zeus grunted. Hestia was the peacemaker, and the eldest of the six children of Rhea. She did not speak up often, but when she did she was difficult to ignore. "Very well. All in favor?"

The only dissenters were Dionysus and Zeus himself. Hera smiled, gracious in victory, and handed a stack of pre-made invitations to Hermes, who grinned as the messages disappeared and he let his power leave the mountain for the first time in five years. He had been going stir-crazy, and had told Apollo many times that he and Artemis were the lucky ones- there was always a small part of them driving a chariot somewhere in the world. They had been the only gods still with a significant part of their consciousness out in the world, although their father always watched while they were in the sky to ensure that they made no stops or detours. Each time, Apollo had replied that it was no fun being able to look and not touch.

"Is there any other business?" Zeus asked, looking around.

"Yes, actually," Poseidon said unexpectedly. "It concerns the ocean primarily, but it may spill onto the surface world. In my last communication with Triton, he said that Ryujin has requested a face-to-face meeting concerning our disputed waters in the North Pacific. If we had not opened the gates today, we would have needed to do so three days from now. He told Triton that he has a proposal for a diplomatic settlement."

"Disputed waters?" Athena asked, as her eyebrows rose at the mention of the dragon god of the Far Eastern seas. "What do you mean?"

Poseidon grimaced. "When I was fighting Oceanus, the majority of my power was focused in the Atlantic. My control over the waters in the far western part of my territory weakened, and Ryujin pushed my influence back significantly."

"How far?" Artemis asked.

"From the Mariana Trench to the Midway Islands and Hawaii. I kept hold of the waters in the South Pacific." Poseidon shook his head. "It's a large chunk of the Pacific, but no merman colonies had settled that far west, and those waters are some of the deepest and most inhospitable in the world. Even we like some light, although the dragons may find it more to their tastes. It was not worth another war so soon after finishing the last one, and so we have had an uneasy peace on the new border since then. Ryujin appears to wish for a more permanent resolution."

"Was he working with Oceanus?" Zeus asked with a frown.

Poseidon snorted. "He would never stoop to an alliance with a Western god. It was an attack of opportunity, nothing more."

"But, it is a continuation of a disturbing trend," Hermes pointed out.

Most of the council grimaced, reminded of the turning tide after the Second World War, as pantheon after pantheon had put aside their conflicts with their neighbors and surged back to reduce the influence of Western civilization in their native territories. It had started with the Hindu gods back in 1947, and had continued ever since. The gods of a land were rarely aligned with the politics of the mortals that lived there; even when a new country remained friendly with its former colonial power, the native gods were usually implacably hostile to the West.

"It's an insult, is what it is," Ares snarled. "Are you just going to let him have your land? Er, water, I mean."

"Your loss of influence in the colonies is not relevant here. Understand, Ares, Hermes, I was not asking permission, only informing the council of an ongoing negotiation. The oceans remain my domain." Poseidon smiled thinly. "I will see what terms he offers. If they are not agreeable, the oceans will go to war. The conflict with Gaia will be fought primarily on land; Polybotes is not the opponent that Oceanus was. We are in a more favorable position than we would have been five years ago."

Zeus nodded curtly. "Very well. Keep us posted. Is there any other business?"

Despite how much he just wanted to get out of there and enjoy his new freedom, Apollo spoke up. There was something about his dream that nagged at him. It was too out of place. "I had an odd dream. Are there any memorable birthdays coming up soon?"

Aphrodite snapped her compact shut, and even Hephaestus stopped fiddling with the gadget in his hand to look at him incredulously.

"What?"

"You're the god of prophecy, brother," Artemis said. " 'A child of the eldest gods/ shall reach sixteen against all odds.' Does that sound familiar?"

Oh. Right. Hadn't he and his satyr friend been celebrating Percy's birthday the last time he saw them, though? Maybe they'd put the celebration off until they weren't at war. That made sense.

Percy's voice had been settling into a light baritone that had sounded a lot like the man's voice in his dream… but Poseidon's son didn't speak fluent Japanese, and certainly not without any trace of an American accent. It couldn't have been him.

"He'll have just turned twenty-one at the party, hmm?" Dionysus mused. "A pity he's your son, Barnacle Beard. I never did manage to get Theseus drunk. He was able to keep everything but high-proof alcohol out of his bloodstream."

"And a pity I haven't been able to mention that trick to Percy," Poseidon answered, lips twitching and looking considerably less grim at the reminder of the upcoming celebration. "Everyone should learn the consequences of overindulgence once."

As Dionysus toasted him with a can of Diet Coke, Hermes snapped his fingers and produced three invitations. "And, done, with a few holdouts. Ares, Clarisse La Rou and my son Chris are deployed in Afghanistan; you'll be able to get the invitations to them easier than I can."

Ares grinned. "That's my girl!"

"And they got married at some point, by the way." Hermes tossed two cards to Ares.

"Wait, what?"

"Poseidon, Percy's in your realm- I couldn't find him." The last invitation folded into a paper airplane and sailed towards Poseidon. The sea god caught it and sent the bulk of his power out into his oceans for the first time in five years.

"And, if there is no other business, we're done here. Finally." Zeus had gone as stir-crazy as the rest of them in the last five years.

"Wait." The second speaker in his dream couldn't have been Percy Jackson. But if it was… then Apollo must have been wrong about the identity of his companion, because she hated the West in general and Western demigods in particular with all the fury of the sun. "Wait until the invitation is sent."

"After five years, I will not delay resuming our duties for one arrogant-"

"He's not under the sea," Poseidon said.

It silenced Zeus. Poseidon raised his trident and pointed towards the hearth. White mist rose from the fire, but instead of forming an image of Percy's current location, it stayed opaque. Hestia rose from her stool again and added her own power to the fire, which doubled the size of the flames but made the smoke no clearer. Hera extended her own hand, and Demeter followed suit. Zeus grimaced and joined his older siblings, and the smoke finally became just a bit clearer, enough to briefly resemble a sleeping body. It was enough to show that he was alive, but no more.

Poseidon replaced his trident in the holster on his throne with a frown.

"Could a giant have awakened without our noticing?" Athena asked. "Poseidon's son would be the logical first target, if they fear that the gods and demigods will fight together against them once more."

"It does not feel like a deliberate concealment," Hestia disagreed. "He is just beyond our influence. Poseidon, have you looked in on him while we have been shut up on Olympus?"

"…yes. A year ago, on his birthday. He was close by, and happy," Poseidon admitted grudgingly. Zeus's expression turned thunderous, but none of them were particularly startled that Poseidon had maneuvered around the restrictions upon them all to check on his favorite son; the only surprise was that he had done so just once.

"Then he's just traveled north for some reason," Hephaestus rumbled. "Check with his girlfriend when we close up here; she spends half her time here anyway."

Athena raised her eyebrows. "My daughter is not Percy Jackson's girlfriend."

"What?" Aphrodite snapped. "What do you mean? He gave up immortality for her! They were meant to be!"

"Your machinations do not mean she had an obligation to accept his courtship. I am grateful she came to her senses."

Apollo cut off their uncle before the old Poseidon-Athena rivalry could take a new and interesting twist. "He hasn't gone north."

The Olympians looked at him as he rose from his throne and approached the fire. White mist billowed out of the Flames of the West once more.

"He's gone east. Ares, Athena, Hermes, with me." He was wrong about this. He had to be wrong about this.

(He was the god of truth, and could recognize a lie when he told it to himself.)

The eldest gods were powerful within their own domains, but it was the younger generation that served as the vanguard of Western Civilization.

Ares and Athena, their war deities.

Hermes, for trade and diplomacy.

Dionysus, the god of wine and debauchery and the patron of the theater.

Hephaestus, who with Athena and Hermes encompassed their various aspects of technology and innovation.

Apollo himself, whose influence in other civilizations these days spread mostly through music and pop culture.

(In the past, it had spread through plague. He had done far more than Ares or Athena to bring the Americas into the West.)

One by one, the deities whose influence extended into Japan focused on the fire, and the mist cleared.

The picture showed two people on a bed in a darkened room. The man was naked, but covered by a light blanket from the waist down. He had the body of an Olympic swimmer and the good looks of a Greek god. The Greek god behind him, to be precise- Percy Jackson's resemblance to Poseidon had only gotten stronger as he finished growing and lost the last of his childhood roundness.

They had only a second to take in the scene before the goddess next to him jerked awake and turned towards them. She was just as naked as her lover, and they had a brief glimpse of long black hair and a beautiful Asian face twisted in outrage before she made a sharp gesture. A golden line slashed across the mist and destroyed the image.

"Who was that?" Artemis asked in shock, speaking for the entire council.

Apollo removed his sunglasses. His eyes were glowing as golden as the power that had shattered the image of a damning betrayal. He didn't think he'd been this furious since Zephyrus killed Hyacinthus.

"That was Amaterasu-omikami. Sun goddess of Japan. Central deity of the Shinto pantheon."

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Mythology, picture links, and general notes:

The short stories referenced in this chapter were 'Percy Jackson and the Staff of Hermes' and 'Percy Jackson and the Singer of Apollo', with mentions of the events in the 'Son of Sobek'. This story was first conceived of when I saw one too many stories where Percy was betrayed or abandoned or ignored by the gods, and then did something silly like join Chaos or the Titans in retaliation, even though the gods are really annoying to have around in daily life. It branched off from there as I started thinking about where he might go and what he might do instead, and I've got some things planned that I've never seen before in a PJO fic, but that's kind of where it started.

So, it was a forty-page-long setup, but to summarize: When Zeus almost completely closed off Olympus in the hopes that withdrawing from the world would keep Gaia and the giants from waking up, it worked. Five years later, the gods have fully recovered from fighting Typhon and have left Olympus, the Giant War is about to start, and Percy is kind of hoping that the gods go back to ignoring him again soon, thanks all the same.

Explanations of the pairings, in the hopes of avoiding future flames: I thought about making this story Percabeth, but every time I considered writing a story with a brilliant architect who leaves an important and meaningful job that she'd dreamed about her entire life, just to follow her man as he bums around the world, a part of me died inside. I do like the pairing, and tried to give the 'breakup' the attention it deserved. Percy will have lovers of both genders, but his most lasting relationship is going to be with his ship.

Regarding the other canon pairings: it is my goal to make all of the relationships in the story driven by the plot, and not vice versa. The Heros of Olympus timeline has been pushed back five years, which means that Jason/Piper won't be happening because Jason had a lot of extra time to get to know Reyna, and I doubt I'll write any Frank/Hazel considering that he'll be twenty-one and she'll still be resurrected at thirteen. That's not even close to legal in California.

The Firefly: Modeled after the Chasseur, a Baltimore clipper that had a distinguished career as an American privateer in the War of 1812 and that did not meet the accident in battle that I described. Good pictures of a similar ship can be found at www.pride2.org. Despite being improbably intact after two centuries in a corrosive saltwater environment, metal and all, it is just a normal sailing ship; I've given Percy some significant issues, but the ship is a symptom, not the cause.

Ryujin: Dragons are the spirits of the water and rains in both Chinese and Japanese mythology; Ryujin is the ruler of the sea in Shinto mythology, although Susano'o, the god of storms, also has some power over the ocean. His daughter Otohime married a demigod hunter named Hoori, and their son was the father of Emperor Jimmu, the legendary first emperor of Japan. The page my mental image of Ryujin's dragon form is coming from is here

In-story, I've squished the mythologies together where it concerns the ocean. Ryujin is the ruler of the dragon gods of the seas around China and Japan, with a separate court that has strong ties to the pantheons of both countries, but which is more independent from the land gods of either pantheon than Poseidon is from Olympus. Ryujin's original territory was the Sea of Japan, the East China Sea, and the South China Sea. Like Poseidon, who started in the Mediterranean and moved west, he has expanded his influence considerably in recent centuries. His territory now stretches around Thailand and through Indonesia and the Philippines, and he made a major push into Poseidon's waters in the North Pacific when Poseidon was distracted fighting Oceanus. His territory is bordered on the west by Varuna, the Hindu sea god in the Indian Ocean, and by Poseidon to the south (Australia and New Zealand) and east.

'The Hindu gods, back in 1947': India and Pakistan gained independence from Britain in 1947, and many former European territories followed suit in the next fifty years, up to and until Hong Kong was transferred from England's sovereignty to the People's Republic of China in 1997.

Amaterasu: The sun goddess of Japan and the ruler of the Shinto pantheon; her full title is Amaterasu-omikami. My mental image comes from here. Hoori, the hunter who married Ryujin's daughter, was her great-grandson, and so Hoori's grandson Emperor Jimmu was Amaterasu's descendent. All emperors of Japan claimed this divine heritage until the 1946 Humanity Declaration in Allied-occupied Japan after WWII, when Emperor Hirohito denied that he was divine. Amaterasu, consequently, is less than fond of the West.

Amaterasu has two brothers, the moon god Tsukuyomi, who is also her husband, and Susano'o, the god of storms, both of whom will be introduced next chapter. All three deities (and a lot of others) were born when their father Izanagi purified himself after failing to retrieve his wife from the Underworld; Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi were born when he washed his left and right eyes, respectively, and Susano'o was born when he washed his nose.

Amaterasu's most famous legend is when she and Susano'o got in a contest over who could make the best gods from a household object, and there was an argument over who won. Susano'o threw a tantrum that resulted in the death of one of Amaterasu's attendants, which made Amaterasu so upset that she closed herself up in a cave and refused to come out. The world was thrown into darkness, and everything was dying until a goddess of laughter did a strip-tease in front of Amaterasu's cave while all the other Shinto gods hooted and applauded. Amaterasu wanted to know what the commotion was about, and was told that they'd found a goddess more radiant than the sun goddess. She got insulted, came out of the cave, and saw her reflection for the first time in the mirror hung from the tree outside. While she was distracted by the shiny, the other gods sealed up the cave behind her and sunlight was brought back to the world.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge, Excalibur Almaz and its chairman Arthur Dula have no affiliation with any Celtic deity.

Mythology Notes- like in the last chapter, at the end of this chapter there is a (probably too long...) section with elaborations on the mythology references. I've tried to make sure that reading them isn't necessary for understanding the story; they are there for the curious. If I have deliberately taken liberties with a legend, I'll mention it in the notes.

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Mid-September, Two years after the Second Olympian War

I put away my phone after leaving my mom a message telling her that I'd gotten to Ireland safely. Blackjack had touched down on a beach in the south of Ireland, a little ways out of the port of Cobh where I'd moored the Firefly. Off-shore, a sea serpent breached the surface, but seemed to decide against coming ashore for a bite of demigod. I kept looking around and didn't sheath Riptide. In New York, even that short of a message would have been guaranteed to bring out a Cyclops or two before I'd thinned the monster population out.

Right on cue, a woman came out of the woods. She was tall, taller than I was, and wearing a ragged green dress covered by a grey cloak. The hood of the cloak was down, and her long white hair fluttered in a nonexistent breeze around her pale face. She was crying from blood-shot eyes, but if she hadn't been she would have been beautiful, in the same way that the empousai in Kronos' army had been beautiful. Knowing that they would happily kill and eat me had always been a turn-off.

"A Roman half-blood? What brings you to this island, child?" Her voice matched her face- it was rough and scratchy, like she'd been crying for a long time.

I didn't lower my sword. Just because she'd stopped to talk first, didn't mean she was friendly. "I'm just passing through. I don't want any trouble. And I'm American, actually. Ah, why are you crying?"

She smiled through her tears. "Because someone is about to die."

I braced myself and gave her the setup. "Who?"

"You."

Naturally. Instead of attacking me physically, though, she opened her mouth and wailed.

I was suddenly grieving all over again for Bianca, Zoe, Beckendorf, Michael, Silena, Ethan, Luke, my own mother trapped in the Underworld by Hades- everyone I had lost, everyone I hadn't been able to save. My sword tip dipped towards the ground as I started to cry, and when the monster reached for me with clawed hands I didn't try to block her.

Boss! Snap out of it!

Blackjack bum-rushed me and shouldered me back into the water. As soon as I touched the sea, my mind cleared enough to realize what was going on. She could influence emotions with her voice, like the Sirens or Apollo's celedones, and I had no wax with me to plug my ears. I'd made peace with my dead a long time ago, though, and the monster was no Melinoe. If the ghost goddess had had no effect on me, I wasn't about to let this creepy lady take me down.

I pulled a globe of water to surround my head, which muffled and distorted the sound enough for me to fight back. She was more focused on dodging Blackjack than on me, and didn't move in time. It turned out that Irish monsters were as vulnerable to Celestial Bronze as Greek monsters were; the only remnant was golden dust and her grey cloak.

I let the water fall and stuffed the cloak into my backpack. "Thanks, Blackjack."

No problem, boss. What was that thing?

"No idea."

A banshee, a new voice told us unexpectedly.

I jerked around with Riptide still in my hand, and saw a white mare coming out of the sea behind us. She was dry except for her mane, which was sea-blue, dripping, and tangled with seaweed in several places. The local equivalent of a hippocampus, probably.

Banshees have become rarer since the Roman gods came. Most stay under the hills these days. Many of the old fairies do not welcome children of Rome, strangers. It was foolish to summon one.

It was nothing we couldn't handle, Blackjack boasted, extending his wings casually. It was almost a mating display, but I doubted an impressive wingspan would help him score with a seahorse.

So I saw. She curved her neck flirtatiously. I could be wrong. Maybe Blackjack had universal appeal. What brings you to Ireland?

We've got a prophecy. We're looking for some of your old gods- what were their names, boss?

"We're looking for the waves of Manannan mac Lir and the children of Morrigan. We don't necessarily have to find the gods themselves."

I can take you to where Manannan lives, she offered eagerly. Just hop on.

"Really? Thanks!" That was easy. "What's your name? I'm Percy, and this is Blackjack."

Aughisky. It's a pleasure to meet you. She stood still for long enough for me to get a leg over her back, and darted into the water as soon as I was settled. She swam the way Blackjack flew- all legs trotting.

I'll follow by air, boss! Blackjack called just before we sped away. I saw a hippocampus in the distance, but it saw us and headed in the opposite direction as fast as it could swim. Weird. Usually, all horses were as happy to meet me as Aughisky had been.

"Are there many hippocampi in the area?" I asked her.

Not really. There used to be more, back when I first came to the area.

"Oh." I'd try to catch up with one of them later, and figure out what was wrong. "How far are we going? Is Manannan really still around? We weren't sure if the gods of Ireland had faded or not."

Oh, no, the Tuatha de Danann are still here. Most of them went under the hills long ago, but they do ride out still, on the nights when their influence is strongest. You might have been able to see them on Samhain.

"What's Samhain?"

All Hallow's Eve, I believe it is also called. The night when all of the humans celebrate the old Celtic festival.

Halloween. October 31. I didn't mind staying that long, if I hadn't figured out Rachel's prophecy before then.

Wait. "What do you mean 'might have been'? And how far are we going?"

As far as we need to go. How are you still able to talk to me, Percy?

"What do you mean? Poseidon's my dad. I'll always be able to talk to horses." Why hadn't she known that? Horses usually did. "If you didn't know who my father was, why did you bring me underwater?"

I felt her muscles tense underneath me.

That was the only warning I got before her head whipped around and lunged for my throat.

I got my left arm up in time, and she chomped on that instead. I tried to jump off, but found that I was stuck to her skin. Her neck looked a lot more like a snake's than a horse's now, and… "My, what big teeth you have, Grandma."

What are you?!

She gave up on penetrating my skin and started pulling instead, trying to rip my arm off. She didn't really have the leverage for it. I finally managed to get Riptide uncapped one-handed, and had a clear shot at her throat.

In one hit, I was free, and trying to avoid breathing in any of the golden dust floating around me. Man-eating Irish seahorse remains couldn't be healthy.

Son of the sea god! You killed the aughisky!

The hippocampus from earlier- a young chestnut stallion with gold scales on his fish half- had come back with reinforcements. They circled me, happily sailing through the dust. I expected them to start singing 'ding-dong, the witch is dead' any minute.

"Yeah, she picked the wrong victim. Was she giving you problems?"

She hunted us, when she could not find food on land. We have called for help, but the mermen have been slow to respond. Poseidon is on Olympus, and his heir is overseeing the reconstruction of the cities on the other side of the ocean. Few others can speak to us.

The icthyocentaurs sent a hunting party, but she shape-shifted and hid until they ran out of supplies and had to return, an older blue mare added. We had heard that they would send Bill himself next, but there was a kidnapping, and he needed to go to Atlanta instead. We will tell them that he is not needed. You have our thanks, my lord. It was clever of you to trap her.

"No problem. I'm sorry about your losses." I decided not to tell them it hadn't been deliberate, and that she'd just happened to pick a victim that was undrownable and invulnerable. "She mentioned something about the Tuatha de Danann and Halloween. Is that a big thing here? I'm following a prophecy that mentioned the 'waves of Manannan'."

The mare looked at the rest of the herd, to see if any of them would speak up, then said,

I know nothing about 'Halloween', but the influence of the old sea god stretches throughout this sea.

That didn't narrow it down much. Well, it was a prophecy. It would come true one way or another, and probably not in any way I expected. If sailing around Ireland didn't help me figure it out, I'd head to the other islands touching the Irish Sea. I thanked the hippocampi, and then headed up to explain to Blackjack that his prospective girlfriend had been a carnivorous sea monster.

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I spent the next few weeks sailing generally clockwise around the island. The day after meeting my first Irish monsters, I visited Blarney Castle and kissed the stone just in case that particular myth was true too, but I was pretty sure I hadn't magically gotten any better at speaking. I did get some good pictures of the castle that kept Annabeth and my mom happy.

I tended to focus more on the natural attractions- Blackjack, Mrs. O'Leary, and I hiked through mountains and forests, flew over the Kerry Way, and visited the Cliffs of Moher. The monsters I saw were mostly ones I'd fought before, with some local flavor thrown in; once when I was dozing on the bank of the River Shannon after a drakon encounter in the center of the country, a newt tried to crawl down my throat. It had some way of keeping victims asleep, because I didn't wake up and spit it out until Blackjack kicked my head. Riptide hit it instead of just passing through, so it must have been something mythical and not just a suicidal newt.

I didn't think I was seeing everything around me, though. Unless a monster actually attacked me, I might not see it through the Mist. There were times when I was wandering through the forest when I heard giggling or whispers of 'Roman', or maybe saw movement out of the corner of my eyes that never actually turned out to be anything when I turned to look. It didn't ever seem hostile, unlike the monsters I'd summoned with a phone call, so I didn't bother any of my watchers until I actually caught one of them on the Firefly.

I was in Bundoran, a seaside town in the northwest of the Republic of Ireland. I'd been moored in the area for a week and a half, which made it the longest I'd stayed still since my birthday party. This was mostly because I'd come at the start of the surfing season. Apparently, winter storms made good waves.

For the full humans on the beach, wetsuits were required. Being able to feel your limbs was not.

I'd wanted to learn to surf for years, and had never gotten the chance in New York City or Camp Half-blood. It turned out that it came just as easily as sailing, but for all the wrong reasons- the first time my teacher Richie commented on how balanced I was, I realized that it was because I'd been using the water underneath me to hold up the board. After taking a couple of lessons just to make sure I knew the basics, I went out alone and focused on not using the wave to stabilize me, until I got to the point where I was able to stand and ride the waves without using my heritage as a crutch.

Except to summon the waves, of course. I wasn't above cheating when it made everything more fun. Whichever beach I happened to be on was always the best surfing spot; Richie and his friends called it beginners luck and had taken to following me around after I picked up my rented board from their shop each day.

I'd dropped my surfboard off again and was heading home when I felt something new jump onto the Firefly and broke into a run. By the time I got there, the intruder had gone down into the bilge, the compartment running along the bottom of the ship where the two sides met at the keel. On most ships, the bilge was where water and other liquids collected over the course of the voyage, and was usually pretty disgusting. The Firefly didn't take on any water I didn't want to be there, though, so my bilge was just another hold; it was where I had my fresh-water tank and hot-water heater and where I'd been keeping most of my non-perishable supplies.

I hopped down the ladder by the small washing machine (I'd put it in the hold that used to be the powder magazine, but hadn't needed a clothes dryer since I was twelve) and flicked on the lights. I had to bend almost double and watch my step; there wasn't more than five feet of room at the highest point, and the keel was a trip hazard.

Nothing looked out of place. That didn't mean anything. I could feel the monster, and I couldn't trust my ability to see through the Mist on this island.

I wandered as casually as I could through the hold, fiddling with the pen in my hand. When I passed an innocent-looking bag of oats, I uncapped it, dropped to my knee, and swung in one practiced motion. I stopped just a hair away from the center of the bag.

"Drop the Mist."

"Mist? What Mist? 'Tis as clear as day in here, lad."

The thick Irish brogue came from behind me. I wasn't fooled. "Drop it, or I decide I don't care what you're looking for and just worry about sweeping up the dust."

A can of Chef Boyardee sailed at me from where the voice had come from. I dodged it without looking back and pressed Riptide in a bit harder. "Last warning."

"All right! All right!" The bag of oats rippled and dissolved, and the voice started coming from in front of me. "Just… just back that thing away a bit, would you?"

I stared at the little man in front of me. He was wearing high-heeled brown shoes with buckles, long blue stockings, an apron, and a red jacket and nightcap. He had curly reddish-brown hair and a thick beard, and his large red nose and bloodshot eyes said that he was about as much of a stranger to alcohol as Mr. D was.

Okay, I knew I was in Ireland, and maybe I should have seen this coming, but this guy was not something anyone would chase after for his Lucky Charms.

"Please tell me you're not a leprechaun."

He immediately puffed up in indignation, making his two-foot-nothing height look even more comical. "Of course I'm not a leprechaun! Do I look like a blasted shoemaker, boy? Do I look like I go prancing around granting wishes and hiding away pots of gold?"

He looked like if he'd ever had a pot of gold, he'd spent it on beer long ago. "What are you then?"

"A clurichaun, of course!"

"Is 'clurichaun' the Irish word for 'drunken leprechaun'?" I asked.

"I am no' a leprechaun!" He levitated a foot in anger, and the bags of oats he'd been standing on started going up with him, before I concentrated a bit and the bags fell back to the ground. I pressed Riptide in a bit closer just to remind the guy that he was breaking and entering and that I still had him at swordpoint.

He blinked at me, startled out of his anger. "How did you do that? And how did you see through my Glamor?"

"This is my ship, and I can feel everything on it. I knew as soon as you came on board. The Mist doesn't matter here." And he smelled like a brewery. I wouldn't have had much trouble even off the Firefly.

"Humph." He settled back down, sulking. "A son of Neptune, I suppose? We don't see many Roman demigods here these days. I'd never heard they could control ships."

I frowned, distracted by the Roman name for my father. "He told me once that he prefers to go by Poseidon. And why do you all keep calling me Roman? The gods were Greek first."

"He'd been Neptune for centuries by the time Patrick came, demigod, and the missionaries were from Rome. Neptune, Poseidon, it's all the same to us."

Even I'd heard of St. Patrick. They had a holiday for him and everything. "Wait, the Catholic missionaries? I thought the gods didn't worry about metaphysics!"

"Meta-whats?"

"Never mind." I shook my head. "Old joke. Why would the missionaries matter?"

The clurichaun snorted. "'Tis one of the great ironies of Western civilization. They come preaching one god, and a thousand more follow behind without them noticing. The Roman Empire came to Britain, but didn't make it to Ireland before Rome fell. The Christian missionaries did more to bring the Roman gods here than anything else."

"What about your old gods, though? I met an aughisky that said that the Tuatha de Danann were still around. What about Manannan mac Lir and Morrigan?"

"Most of them stay in the hills these days, or on the Blessed Isles. Some have faded. Manannan had it easier than most of the gods of the land; the sea doesn't care about the laws and philosophy of humans. Neptune leaves the current management in place after a hostile takeover. Your pantheon has many minor water gods, and as long as he has power over a sea, he doesn't care if a native god also has influence there." The little man spat the word 'native' out like it was an old grudge.

I had no information on the old Irish pantheon. For all I knew, they cared even less about humans than the Titans did. But I was still kind of glad to hear that my dad didn't routinely drive sea gods into retirement.

"I'm from the US, though, and I haven't seen any native sea gods or monsters there." Nereus, Triton, various Naiads and sea nymphs… even the spirits of the East and Hudson had been basically Greek river gods.

"Oh, well, that's different, isn't it? America's the heart of the West, where Olympus' influence is strongest. England was over-run by your gods, back in the bad old days when Olympus was in London and Apollo never set on the British Empire. They still haven't recovered over there. I haven't heard tell of Robin Goodfellow, the puck o' the hills, in a good two centuries. He may have faded entirely."

"What about Morrigan?" He might not like 'Romans', but he definitely liked the sound of his voice. I'd take advantage of that if I could.

"Ah. That one," he sniffed. "Such fine Folk don't exactly go around telling the Little People what they're up to, you know, but I suspect she's still around. I don't think we can pin all the blame for the Troubles on your Mars."

"What about Morrigan's children?"

That finally seemed to clue him onto the fact that I wasn't asking from idle curiosity anymore, and he gave me a beady stare. "Why d'you want to know?"

I figured it couldn't hurt to tell him. "I'm here because of a prophecy. The only lines that talk about the location say 'On the waves of Manannan mac Lir/ where the children of Morrigan breed.' A friend told me that meant crows, but I haven't seen any since I got here."

"Ah, well, Morrigan's crows can be tricky to find, to be sure. I'll show you, if you put away your sword."

"Really? Thanks!" I said cheerfully, and capped Riptide.

He looked started for a second, like he couldn't believe that had worked, and then darted up the ladder faster than my eyes could follow, yelling "Hah! Sucker!"

Since I was down there anyway, I tossed a couple of bags of dog kibble up through the hatch, and followed it up with a fifty-pound bag of oats. I took my time hauling them up to the top deck.

"Get away! Get away, you blasted dog!"

The clurichaun was wrapped in a coil of rope and hanging upside-down at eye level from the main mast. He looked like some kind of avant-guard piñata. Mrs. O'Leary was lying down and sniffing him. As I hauled up the kibble, she started channeling her inner cat, and pawed at him until he started spinning around and wailing.

I figured I'd made my point, and took pity on him. "Mrs. O'Leary! Here, girl! Dinner!"

She barked and abandoned her new toy in favor of her food bowl. I'd finally managed to train her to move carefully on the ship; she was more than a quarter of the total length of the Firefly, and I'd had to use the waves to stop us from capsizing more than once, but she could eat and sleep on board as long as we were close to land. For longer trips I'd still have to send her back to Camp Half-Blood, but I was trying to avoid doing that too often; when I'd called her across the Atlantic after visiting Blarney Castle, it had tired her out so much that she'd slept for an entire day and hadn't wanted to shadow-travel herself between the land and ship for another week.

Boss. You caught a leprechaun. Blackjack came up and stopped the spinning with his nose.

"He's a clurichaun."

What's a clurichaun?

"No idea. We didn't get that far. Hey, Lucky- can I call you Lucky?"

"No!"

"Great, thanks. Lucky, what's a clurichaun, and why'd you come on board?" I poured a few cups of the oats into Blackjack's trough, but he was more interested in peering at our visitor.

Lucky sighed and gave up trying to magic the ropes open. "Clurichauns are winery guardians. I was looking for your liquor."

Guarding it by making sure no-one but him gets it, it smells like, Blackjack commented.

"Yeah, I noticed," I agreed. Lucky didn't react to Blackjack's words; it looked like he couldn't understand horses. "I'm only eighteen. Why would you think I even had any?"

"Eighteen's old enough in Ireland! A rich boy with a private yacht- why wouldn't you have a good stash?" Lucky asked indignantly.

"A rich boy?" I blurted, and then thought about it for a second and realized for the first time what I'd think if I saw an eighteen-year-old with his own ship who was sailing around the world for fun, without really worrying about money. I'd decide he was… a rich brat. Just like the ones at Yancey Academy, only all grown up. I'd assume his parents were loaded and he had a vacation home somewhere in the Bahamas.

I'd rebuilt the Firefly with my own hands and had gotten a lucky haul once, but just the thought that I might look like that from the outside was disturbing.

I sighed and moved the rope so Lucky was right-side up, although I kept him in the air. I'd kind of lost my taste for pressing him for information. He probably thought he was some kind of Robin Hood, stealing the booze from the rich and giving to himself. I'd had that same thought sometimes as a kid. It was hard to be on the outside looking in.

"Alright. There's nothing in my holds, but you want alcohol, and I'm legal here. If you tell me about Morrigan's crows I'll let you go and buy you a drink."

He peered at me suspiciously. "D'you swear on your river?"

Awareness of that custom probably hadn't taken too long to cross mythologies. "Yes. I swear on the Styx."

Thunder boomed, and Lucky cackled. "There's one now!"

I looked where he'd tilted his head. There was a pale bird pecking at a discarded food wrapper on the dock, with black wings and tail and a black cap on its head. I vaguely remembered seeing them all over Ireland in the last few weeks.

It's white, Blackjack pointed out.

"Grey, I'd say, but yeah, that's not a crow."

Lucky was still chortling. "'Tis a corbie. The grey crow, the hooded crow, the favored shape of the Morrigan. You'd have to go to England to find a black crow, demigod! Pay up!"

Okay. Well, that wasn't going to narrow down where I should look. I was back to wandering around Ireland, it looked like. I let him drop to the deck.

"Thanks. Pick your poison."

His expression fell so fast it was funny. "You're thanking me?"

I shrugged and leaned against the rail. "I didn't know that, and I've done much stupider things for less useful information. Unless you changed into a killer whale, you couldn't really compare. So, yeah, thanks."

And getting annoyed about it would only make him happier, of course.

He shoved off the ropes with a grumble. "A free piece of advice, demigod. Do not thank the Little People. It says that the transaction is complete, and that you'll forget about the favor soon. It's rude, and means they'll leave."

"And just when we were getting along so well. Wine, whiskey or beer?"

"Whiskey. Old Bushmills."

Half an hour and a trip to a local store later, I found Lucky giving a detailed explanation to Blackjack and Mrs. O'Leary about why he despised leprechauns.

"And the rainbows! Where did the rainbows come from? They're shoemakers! And now all the humans think they live at the end of the rainbow! They get all the good press!"

Mrs. O'Leary whined and rested her head on her paws.

"Yes, that's right. Good dog."

I wrapped my arm around the rope that snaked down from the mast and let it pull me on deck; I didn't usually bother with the boarding ramp when I was alone. "I'm back."

I handed Lucky the bottle. I had the vague feeling that I'd become an enabler, but an oath on the Styx was an oath on the Styx.

He raised his bushy eyebrows as he pulled it out of the brown bag. "Sixteen-year single malt. Not bad."

I shrugged again. "I wouldn't know. It was what they had."

"And that means you're wasting your visit to the Emerald Isle." He hesitated, and looked back and forth from me to the $60 bottle, then visibly made a decision. "It's a generous payment. Killer whales, you say? That sounds like a story worth a drink."

Lucky produced two shot glasses out of nowhere, levitated the cork out of the whisky, and had poured two generous shots before I could blink.

"I wouldn't want to deprive you." The drinkers in my life were Gabe and Mr. D, and I didn't really want to mimic either of them.

"Kind of you, but it would be terrible manners to drink without offering you any!"

I took the glass he levitated towards me, more to be polite than anything else.

You're being peer-pressured by a drunken leprechaun, Blackjack remarked. I could see him snickering into his trough. Traitor. I took a tentative sip, and choked as it burned on the way down.

"So who turned into a killer whale?" Lucky prompted me, taking a generous gulp of his own and sighing in satisfaction.

I left out the bad parts (Annabeth missing, Bianca dead, Zoe knowing she was walking towards her own death, Bessie possibly being used to destroy Olympus…), and summarized the setup.

"… and Nereus was a shape-shifter, so when he was trying to get away he shifted into a bunch of different animals, including a seal and a killer whale. He couldn't drown me, and when he turned into an eel I started tying him into a knot, and he finally just gave up and told me to ask the question. I had to choose one, and I decided to ask him where the monster Artemis had been hunting was. And he pointed at the baby sea-cow that Blackjack had brought me to save a week earlier, and that had been following me ever since."

Lucky burst out laughing and poured himself a second shot of whiskey. Even I had to smile. Enough time had passed to dull the edges, and it was a pretty ridiculous story. If it had started and ended there, I would probably be laughing about it with him.

I finished my glass and handed it back to the clurichaun. I didn't thank him, since we were apparently friends now. (And my first drinking buddy was an Irish fairy. I wasn't sure how this had become my life.)

He drained his own glass a second time and made them and the bottle disappear. "A good tale. You're not bad, for a rich Roman demigod. Swing by Banoran again when you get a wine cellar, and I'll guard it for you."

I rolled my eyes at the description as he darted over the side of the Firefly and disappeared into the darkness of the evening.

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October 31, two years after the Second Olympian War

Halloween found us at the Giant's Causeway, in Northern Ireland. It had sounded like a good place to look for Irish myths. According to the visitor's center, it was either the remnant of a bridge built by the giant Finn McCool so he could cross the ocean to fight another giant in Scotland, or a 60-million-year old volcanic formation of interlocking basalt columns.

I preferred the giant story, personally.

"Ready for something to eat, Blackjack?" It was only about five, but it was already nearly dark; I needed to feed the dog. I stuffed the map and brochure from the visitor's center into my backpack and traded the sweater I'd bought in Donegal for a heavier jacket as the wind picked up.

Always, boss. Let's just get away from the humans.

Blackjack had been disgruntled ever since he realized that the Mist was making him and Mrs. O'Leary look like a matched pair of large black Labradors. I'd had to get leashes for them.

"The Mist made Mrs. O'Leary look like a poodle once. Do you think I could make that happen again?"

Sure, make fun of the horse.

I laughed, and called out "Mrs. O'Leary! Here girl!"

My dog came bounding up from where she'd been sniffing a much smaller collie, who for some reason was not absolutely terrified of the huge hellhound. I mounted Blackjack as soon as we were far enough away that no-one would call me out on what probably looked like dog abuse, and we started back to Bushmills, the closest town, where the Firefly was docked.

We had just passed a sign saying we were 2 kilometers from the town when Mrs. O'Leary suddenly started barking wildly. I drew Riptide, but nothing jumped out of the dark at us after she stopped.

"Do you think she scared it off?" Mrs. O'Leary was as large as a garbage truck and louder than an artillery round; whatever she heard might have sensibly decided to find an easier meal.

Blackjack didn't answer.

"Blackjack?"

Do you hear that?

I listened. They both had better hearing than mine, but if that wasn't just ringing in my ears from the barking… "Geese? A flock coming closer?"

I don't think those are geese, boss.

I listened harder. It was approaching fast. "Dogs."

Over the sound of the baying, I heard a hunting horn.

Hunters!

Blackjack spread his wings and turned to take off.

Tell the dog to get in the shadows. We've got to get out of here!

"Stop! We can't outfly this."

I can outfly anything.

I felt the same thing he did. A whisper of

-escaperunflyflee -

that the horn and the cries of the pack had called up from the parts of myself that I never liked to look at too closely. I was also pretty sure that doing what the hunters wanted would be a bad idea.

I hopped off Blackjack.

Have you lost your mind? Get on!

Blackjack weighed at least a thousand pounds more than I did; if he wanted to take off there was no way I could stop him physically without hurting him. He wouldn't leave without me, though.

"They'll chase us if we run."

They'll kill us if we don't!

His skin was quivering under my hand, and his eyes were rolled as he started backing up. I stayed next to him, with one hand on his shoulder, and tried to keep my voice soothing as the baying got louder.

"Calm down. They won't notice us if we don't run."

Boss? They noticed us.

I looked up. A pack of white hounds with red ears was running far over our heads. Behind them came the hunters. They were dressed in anything and everything, ranging from almost no clothing to the full plate armor of a medieval knight. Some of them looked human, some of them hadn't bothered to try- they had antlers, or shone with an inhuman beauty, or were so repulsive that I wasn't able to look at their faces for long. They were all mounted on horses that ran on air without any wings.

The leader of the hunt was looking down. He had a pale face and black hair, and was riding a horse as black as my own. Mrs. O'Leary, still next to us, barked a challenge again, and the white dogs bayed an answer. I uncapped Riptide, and stood my ground. Blackjack reared and kicked out his front hooves, finally past the 'flight' part of the adrenaline rush.

They were looking for prey. If we ran, they would hunt us down. That wasn't how I was going to die.

The huntsman laughed. It wasn't even close to human- it sounded a lot more like the calls of his dogs. He raised his horn again, and blew.

-ridehuntchase come -

The call sang through my soul. I'd vaulted back on Blackjack before I realized what was happening as the dog pack changed direction and raced down towards us. My own hellhound howled in delight and turned to run with them.

The message was clear. Hunt or be hunted. We'd already made the choice.

"Let's go."

The first rider touched ground and raced past us. Blackjack stretched his legs to keep up as we fell in with the rest of the riders. I wound up next to a dark-haired man on a light grey horse. He was fully clothed and wearing a breastplate, and looked mostly human under the streetlights, although his cloak couldn't seem to decide what color it wanted to be. It shifted from misty grey to purple to sea-green as I watched.

We weren't following the road for long; after a minute, the hounds angled up into the air again, looking for something to chase. Blackjack didn't have the room to spread his wings, but it didn't make a difference; he and Mrs. O'Leary were running on thin air just as easily as the other animals.

I couldn't say how long we were running for, but it must have been at least an hour. Blackjack kept up with the hunt easily, although we were running at a speed far faster than he'd ever managed on the ground.

I hoped this wouldn't come back to bite him later. The Mark of Achilles let me do the same thing, but I collapsed afterwards.

Mrs. O'Leary's barking became a lot more excited. She'd picked up on something, and took the lead. The other dogs let her. I knew enough about dog packs to know that wasn't normal, but although they were large for normal dogs she was still big enough to make them all look like puppies.

I was just glad it was Mrs. O'Leary that had caught the scent. She liked humans; she wouldn't follow anything I wouldn't want to hunt.

"REEEEET!"

I took that back.

Oh no, Blackjack groaned. It can't be. Bad dog! BAD DOG!

If the Clazmonian Sow and the Erymanthian Boar had ever gotten together, their kid might have looked something like the dark-colored boar rooting through a newly destroyed barn underneath us. It was huge- not as large as the Erymanthian Boar, but still probably a good fifteen feet tall, and as long as Mrs. O'Leary. Its tusks were bigger than I was, and I didn't like the look of the pale liquid dripping from its mouth.

"At least it doesn't have wings this time."

Everything we've seen tonight has been able to fly, boss. What makes you think the pig can't?

The lord of the hunt blew his horn, and the pig turned and ran. Mrs. O'Leary and her new friends angled down and hit the ground running; the rest of the hunt landed just as gracefully.

The boar headed west first; we wound up jumping over the wall of Derry, which I'd passed through earlier in the week. The locals had told me I should stay for Halloween, and I could see why- everyone was in elaborate homemade costumes and out on the town.

Listening to them greet the giant pig stampeding across the bridge over the River Foyle with cheers and cries of 'the sluagh!' and 'Wild Hunt!' was the weirdest part of the night so far. The Mist was thinner tonight, or maybe wasn't working at all. Their own expectations were letting them see what was actually happening.

The adults would think we were an unusually realistic part of the Halloween parade. The children would remember the Wild Hunt until they grew old enough to dismiss the fairy tale that had ridden down the street in front of them, and would look back and laugh at how naive they had been as kids.

I hoped some of the kids I saw hiding behind their parents would remember the human in jeans and a jacket riding a black horse with folded wings, and someday wonder what he had been doing there.

The boar turned south when we got outside of the city limits, and we ran until we hit the Sperrin Mountains, which I'd hiked through two days ago. The dogs brought the pig to bay against a steep rise in the hill, and four of the riders in front dismounted to get closer as the dogs started circling it to harass the flanks. Two of them had boar spears, and two of them only had swords.

One of the white hounds managed to get a good bite on a hind leg, but that just made it mad. It charged the hunters and trampled the spearmen before they could react. As they disappeared in flashes of golden light, the swordsmen attacked from both sides, and it made a break for the riderless horses. They dodged, and in the confusion it broke out of the ring of hunters and was off again.

"It's smart. Smarter than the sow was." Smart enough to identify the spearmen as the bigger threats, at least.

Mrs. O'Leary bounced past us, clearly having the time of her life, and the rest of the dogs followed her. The lord of the Hunt waited for the swordsmen to mount, and sounded his horn as they rode out. I jumped off of Blackjack and grabbed the boar-spears; it might make me more of a target, but I'd still take a six-foot reach over a three-foot one.

The first thing I noticed about them was that they weren't bronze. They were much darker, though not quite as dark as my Stygian Iron whistle or Nico's sword, and they gave off the same soft glow that Riptide and other Celestial Bronze weapons did. They were unornamented and functional, with a razor-sharp spearhead that extended outwards at the base to form kind of a cross-guard.

You know we're not just going to disappear if that thing hits us, right? Blackjack asked as I swung back on and he started galloping.

"I know. Be careful."

Easy for you to say.

"What happened to 'I can outfly anything'?"

He snorted. We're on the ground now, if you hadn't noticed.

We followed the dogs to a huge lake- probably the Lough Neagh, the largest lake in Britain, which I hadn't visited yet. I hoped we'd corner the pig again, but when we got to the shore it was already a half a mile away and swimming through the water almost as quickly as it had been running.

On the plus side, though, we probably didn't have another flying pig on our hands.

Mrs. O'Leary and the rest of the pack bounded into the air, but I had a different idea. If we were close to the water, I'd prefer to stay there.

"Stay on the lake, Blackjack. Try to catch up with it." I'd kept the War Chariot on the water when Clarisse had her driving test on her fifteenth birthday. That had been years ago, and I was much more powerful now; keeping a single pegasus on the water's surface would literally be child's play.

He didn't question me, just headed straight for the water's edge when the rest of the hunt jumped up and followed the dogs. Only one rider followed us- the dark-haired guy from earlier, whose horse dashed over the waves as easily as Blackjack.

As we raced after the boar, I thickened the water around it, to let us catch up, but after just a second the water returned to normal and the boar surged forward again. The man- the god- riding next to us shook his head sharply.

No cheating allowed, apparently. For them, this was the same as when I refused to control the water to hold up my surfboard- they would give the prey a chance.

As potential prey, I appreciated that. As the only mortal rider in the Hunt, not so much.

We cut down the lead, but it still had a head start on us when it surged out of the water and headed southeast. I zoned out somewhere between the lake and the Mountains of Mourne; I hadn't ridden this hard or this long before, and didn't want to ever again. I barely noticed the mountain range I'd heard sung about in half-a-dozen pubs and diners around the country.

I started paying attention again when the hounds cornered the boar again, this time against an outcrop at the top of one of the higher mountains. It didn't give the hunters in the front time to dismount this time, though, and just pushed through the thinnest part of the semicircle and headed for the sea.

I didn't have a watch, but we probably hit the coast at around four in the morning; we'd been travelling across Northern Ireland the entire night. I felt better as soon as I felt the ocean spray. Like before, the water god (Manannan, probably, unless there were other Irish gods around with the same skill set) and I were the only ones to run on the surface of the ocean. When we hit land again a couple of hours later and joined up with the rest of the riders, I knew it couldn't last much longer; the boar was getting pretty tired, but so were our horses.

Blackjack had tripped twice. Over waves. I didn't know that was possible.

We didn't have to chase it far before it crashed through a stand of trees that led out to a cliff. Mrs. O'Leary and her new friends spread out around it as a murder of the hooded crows Lucky had pointed out were startled into flight.

The leader of the Wild Hunt gave a sharp whistle and called all of the dogs back, then got off his horse for the first time. Everyone else followed him and spread out around the boar, which looked around at us in fury. Even I could tell the hunt was pretty much over. It might take a few of us with it, but it wasn't in any shape to go much farther.

"Stay back, Blackjack," I whispered. He'd done enough tonight. The sky was lightening around us, and he'd been running since just after sunset.

You too, boss. Don't be a hero. Let the immortals take down the monster pig.

I meant to. I really did.

It didn't work out that way, of course. The story of my life.

The hunters with the longer spears went in first, and distracted it while a swordswoman attacked its right flank. She drove it hilt-deep, and the boar squealed and turned around to crush her. While it was occupied, two spearmen charged forward and stabbed it in the stomach, but only one of the spears actually did damage; the other just scratched it.

The boar squealed "REEEEEEEEET!" again and swung its tusks, sending both spearmen tumbling before trampling them, bringing the total body count of the night up to five.

The hunt leader ran forward, grabbed one of the tusks, and swung up to get within striking range of a vital spot as he drew his dagger. The boar swung its head and sent him flying, but that didn't save its eye.

I've never heard a more terrible scream.

I had been hanging back through all of this. I don't usually feel bad about killing monsters, especially ones that had destroyed buildings, but the call of the Hunt had faded sometime before we hit the coast and I didn't really want to stab it. This could easily have been us.

My sympathy died when the pig saw Mrs. O'Leary. She had retreated with the rest of the pack and was sitting panting behind the hunters. The boar was half-blind, and I guess she was the biggest target. Maybe it wanted to pick on somebody its own size.

It ignored the spears surrounding it and made one final, last-ditch charge through the hunters. My dog wasn't quite fast enough. The huge boar gored her in the side, and ran over her when she fell with a yelp.

I'd always thought that the phrase 'seeing red' was an exaggeration. It wasn't. A haze of red literally fell over my eyes as the boar turned back to finish the job.

"Stay away from my dog!"

I was still holding the two boar spears. I sucked at archery, but I'd always gotten decent grades at javelin throwing at camp. A boar spear wasn't anywhere near as aerodynamic as a javelin, but it was all I had. I sent a silent prayer to Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, and threw.

I was right on target. It hit the boar in the chest with enough force that it was buried up to the wings just below the spear head.

That wasn't enough to kill the thing. I was starting to wonder if anything would be. Every weapon these hunters carried was meant for much smaller game, and although probably any of them could destroy it with a thought, none of them were going to. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hunt leader raise a hand to stop any of the others from coming closer. The Tuatha de Danann just watched, waiting to see the confrontation play out.

It didn't matter to them that if Mrs. O'Leary dissolved into dust because of their stupid game she wouldn't come back for years, or that she might forget everything and become a vicious monster. That she might never be the dog I loved again. They didn't care.

These gods and their rules could go to Tartarus. The boar was going to die.

"Come on!" I yelled at it, and charged.

I had made it angry, at least, and it focused on me while Mrs. O'Leary limped away. It swung its tusks, trying to clothesline me, and I tucked and rolled through its legs. A bit of the saliva landed on my jacket; it started dissolving pretty much instantly.

Instead of using the spear, I got out from under it and ran for the edge of the cliff. The boar followed me. I turned and braced the spear on the ground, holding it with both hands, like I was going to try to let the boar run into the spear. That would have been the right thing to do against a normal-sized pig.

Against this one? Suicide.

As soon as it was close enough, I got out of the way. Like I'd already noticed, though, the boar was smart. Even furious, half-blind, and bleeding ichor from half-a-dozen other wounds, it had figured out what I was trying to do, and had already slowed down enough to turn and crush me without going over the cliff.

I'd assumed it would. I just needed to get it close to the edge of the cliff. I couldn't use the water below us against the boar; Manannan had far more power over this sea than I did.

I couldn't use the water. But I was the son of the Earthshaker.

I slammed the spear into the ground point-first, and the cliff under us shattered.

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I was hit by three rocks on the way down; if I hadn't automatically twisted to guard my back, one of them would have hit my mortal spot. I got off lightly, but the boar made a much bigger target, and although it was a strong swimmer, that didn't make the water it landed on any softer.

A tidal wave surged up the cliff, we both went under the waves, and the boar was finally, finally, still. Stunned, not dead, since it hadn't popped, but I could change that pretty easily. As I swum over the head, for the first time I noticed the glints of gold tangled in the dark crest of bristles that ran down its head and back.

It began to move groggily, and I hurried to its eyes. I was in the sea now, and had become much stronger. I drove the spear deep into the ruined eye, and it exploded into golden mud.

I hoped it would take a few centuries to come back.

As the water cleared, I saw a bunch of objects sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and pulled them to my hand. Some of them were the weapons that had been left in the boar, but the rest was the metal I'd seen in the bristles a minute ago- a comb, straight razor, and pair of scissors.

These were probably the most bizarre spoils of war I'd ever heard of.

I shoved the hair stuff in my backpack and used the remainder of my jacket to tie my spears and the sword and dagger together. I was about to go and climb up what was left of the cliff when I noticed frantic movement from below me. A fish, about the length of my arm. It looked like one of the rocks had landed on its tail, but that might have saved its life; a much larger rock was being propped up by the small one holding the fish down.

I sighed. I needed to check on Mrs. O'Leary, but since the wound hadn't been fatal immediately she would get better with food and rest, and this fish was trapped because I'd collapsed a cliff on top of it. I swam down.

The fish saw me and immediately started thrashing harder.

No! Go away!

That was weird. Most fish were all 'my lord' this and 'son of the sea god' that. I was pretty sure none of them had been afraid of me before.

"Calm down. I'm going to get you out of there."

You're going to eat me!

"I'm not," I said soothingly. "Relax. Think happy thoughts. Think of… I don't know. Kelp."

The big rock wasn't going to be easy to move without using the currents to help me, but when I reached out to the water experimentally, I found that I had as much control over it as I ever did.

Wonderful, the fish moaned. I'm doomed to be eaten by an idiot. This is so humiliating.

I looked at him. (Probably a him. I'd call it a him unless told otherwise.) "Idiot? I'm not the one trapped under a rock here."

Did you not notice the murder of Morrigan's crows you galloped through on Manannan's home isle on the night when his control over these seas is greatest? I despise prophecies. They always find a way. I go to sleep secure in the knowledge that you're on a completely different island, and wake up to find that you've joined the Wild Hunt for the sole purpose of dropping a cliff on me.

I froze. "How do you know all that?"

I am the Bradan Feasa, boy! The Salmon of Knowledge! Of course I would know of a prophecy that predicted my death!

I'd actually heard of this fish, yesterday at the Giant's Causeway. "You're the fish that that giant burned his thumb on when he was cooking it, right? Finn McCool. He stuck his thumb in his mouth to cool it down, and because of that he had to suck his thumb whenever he wanted to know something."

Fionn mac Cumhaill was no giant. Those legends have been debased. He was a hero, the great-grandson of Nuada, the god who ruled the Tuatha de Danann before his fading. He was one of Ireland's greatest warriors and generals, and used the knowledge he gained from my death far better than you ever will!

"I'm still not going to kill you, you know."

The salmon- I decided to call him Bradan- ignored me in favor of continuing his rant. This is what I have been reduced to! I was once sought after by every druid in Ireland! They spent years fishing the riverbanks on the mere chance that they would catch me! And now, everything that I am will go to a moronic son of Neptune!

I decided to ignore the 'moronic' part. "My dad prefers to go by Poseidon, actually. And, if you don't want to die, why are you telling me all this when you're still trapped under a rock?"

Bradan froze, and shut up. I was happy about it, for the five seconds until I realized that I was getting proud of myself for outthinking a fish. I'd hit a new personal low.

I manipulated the water around me to form huge, solid hands, and flipped the big rock away. Without the extra weight, the salmon was able to pull his tail out from the smaller rock with a little wiggling. The seafloor was soft enough that he didn't seem to have broken anything.

That's it? You're just going to let me go?

"I don't eat fish. It's against my religion," I deadpanned. I pushed off the seafloor, but the salmon swum above me before I got to the surface.

Stop. This makes no sense. Prophecies always come true.

"Look, I really need to make sure my dog's all right. If you actually want me to kill you, I'd suggest using that knowledge to find a therapist that can treat fish."

She has already been healed. The sun is about to rise, and the hunt will depart. Stay in your father's realm until then, or you will be dragged along with them once more.

I might have judged the hunters a little harshly, then. Maybe they just didn't care about me, rather than not caring about my dog. "OK. Thanks."

Do not thank me. Bradan swam around me, looking at me contemplatively. Why have you refused your destiny?

"I'm not going to eat anyone I've had a conversation with. Did you ever think that maybe this prophecy isn't about you?"

It is. Everything matches. Our druids and filids were seers and poets that chased after me; I was their dream. There are four crow nests still at the top of the cliff, left there from the breeding season this past spring. It is Samhain, when Manannan's power in these waters is at its greatest. And I have rarely met a human who needs knowledge more than you do.

I was getting really sick of being insulted by a fish. "And, even with all of your knowledge, rocks fell and you nearly died. It hasn't done you any good."

I cannot prophesize; I can only see the prophecies of others. All of my knowledge concerns the present or the past, not the future. As for it being useless… your preferred method of study is to have someone else tell you what is going on. You came here knowing nothing about the gods of Ireland beyond two names. You mounted an each uisce, and would be dead if you had not simply been immune to her attacks. You even knew that you would need to find crows, and instead of taking five minutes to look up the birds of Ireland, you needed to be told the obvious by a drunken fairy!

I flushed. He sounded like every English teacher I'd ever had before Paul. They all seemed to think I should like having to struggle to learn everything that came so easily to everyone around me.

"Why are you so mad at this? You should be glad I'm not just taking your information. Do you actually want to be eaten?"

He hesitated, and then somehow managed to give the impression of sighing even though he had no lungs. No. No, I don't. Dying is very unpleasant.

"What's your problem, then?"

… Better to be hunted than forgotten. I am not a monster, Percy Jackson, just a reincarnated fish. On the Blessed Isles, where the Tuatha de Danann dwell, there is a spring called the Well of Wisdom. Nine hazel trees surround the Well, and their nuts fall into the water. When a fish eats one hazelnut from each tree, I am reborn. I grow, live, and die as any normal salmon would. I have all of the knowledge of the world at the tips of my fins, and there is nothing I can accomplish with it.

For four lifetimes now, I have reached my full growth and spawned without being chased by anything more than a fishing boat. I am no longer remembered by humans except for a throwaway sentence in a legend that has become almost unrecognizable. If I am no longer a dream for humanity to chase after, what purpose is there in my existence? When even a prophecy has no strength, why should there be a Salmon of Knowledge in this day and age?

He was a depressed rude mythical salmon. Wonderful.

"Well, you must have some other purpose, right? You're not defined by being hunted. Maybe Manannan could use some help, or you could go to the mermen? Just because the humans don't remember you doesn't mean you can't find something else to do."

Mermen are Roman, and serve Neptune's heir. They also eat salmon, much like you eat cattle. Manannan may be an option, though. It hadn't been much of a pep-talk, but at least Bradan seemed a little less likely to let himself fade as soon as I was gone.

"Great. Good luck with that. And, it looks like the sun's coming up, so…"

Wait. Your prophecy….

I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry about it. Prophecies are weird. I'm not choosing knowledge. Let's say the 'wise choice' is to not eat anything that talks back."

It will do nothing to help with a journey, though. By eating me, you would have known everything you needed to know about your destinations.

"If I knew everything about where I was going, I wouldn't need to go there." That was obvious. Facts weren't everything, apparently. Score two for the ignorant demigod.

Bradan jerked and turned towards me. What did you say?

"What?"

You would not need to travel there… yes. Yes, you're right. You do not need absolute knowledge. You need something to help you on your journey. I've never done it before, but theoretically, it should be possible…

"Seriously, what are you talking about?"

The choice is not yours. It is mine.

He started glowing, and then flicked his tail so hard that I thought he was having a seizure. A small scale fell off him and sailed towards me. He did that four more times.

Place the scales on your tongue, your eyes, and your ears. I have put all of the knowledge of the world at your fingertips, son of Neptune, but you must first gain the wisdom to seek it out. No-one will give it to you.

He started swimming away, more energetic than he'd been since he'd been trying to get out from under the rocks. He jumped through the surface, and must have gone up ten feet before coming back under. I wondered if someone had dumped anti-depressants into the water.

I will watch your journey with great interest, Percy Jackson! Farewell, and remember me!

"Um, I will." Bradan was well out of earshot, but he'd know what I said. That had been… strange.

I shrugged. Well, a prophecy was a prophecy. I put one of the scales on my tongue, where it burned briefly before disappearing. The two I put on my eyes flared a bright white light that left spots in my vision, and the ones over my ears disappeared with a loud noise that left my ears ringing.

The sun was rising above the horizon when I surfaced. Instead of making the climb, I gathered up the discarded spears and swam around the cliff to a rocky beach. I walked out of the water, dried myself off, and nearly collapsed. It had been a long night.

"Son of Neptune. I hear you've been looking for me."

Unfortunately, the sea god I'd ridden with had waited, and was leaning against his grey stallion under the trees.

I got my first look at him in the daylight; his hair was a dark brown, with a few laugh-lines around his mouth and dark blue eyes, and looked like he was in his late thirties or early forties. Unlike many of the hunters from last night, he looked completely human.

I gave him an awkward bow. "Ah, you are Manannan, then?"

"They call me Manannan here and in Ireland, yes. And you?" There was something odd about the way he was speaking, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He didn't have an Irish accent- maybe that was it. It was strange to not hear it after more than a month.

"Percy Jackson. And…"

I made a vague gesture towards his horse.

"Seafoam."

Nice to meet you, the grey said cheerfully.

"You too. I wasn't looking for you specifically, Lord Manannan. I had a prophecy that said I would meet someone in your waters. And, where are we, exactly?" My coordinates when I was talking to Bradan had been 54, 5N and 4, 46W, but I was so tired I couldn't figure out where that was on the Irish Sea. We could have been in Scotland for all I knew.

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "The Isle of Man."

"…right." Sure, why not. "Is that just a lucky name?"

"No, I was the first ruler of this island, and have given it my protection ever since. They still honored me here long after your father gained power in this sea."

"Oh." I didn't really want him dwelling on my father. These guys already didn't seem to care much for demigods. To change the subject, I offered him the weapons I'd collected. "These belong to some of your hunters. Can you make sure they get them back?"

"You used the spears with more honor than their first wielders," he answered with an ironic smile, and only took the sword and dagger. "You may keep the weapons that killed the boar. Their owners will be glad to cede them to you."

They'd already lost them. And when you slammed one down and took the cliff with you? You're not supposed to use your powers, but that was badass, Seafoam agreed. They'd be laughed at if they asked for them back.

"Okay, if you're sure." I remembered not to thank them. The spear wasn't my weapon, but having extra monster-killing weapons on board couldn't hurt. Which reminded me… "What metal is this? It's not Celestial Bronze."

"Blessed Iron, our equivalent, and the only metal that was able to harm the Tuatha de Danann in old Ireland," he answered, shoving the blades into a small feather-covered satchel that had been hidden by his cloak. "Like so much else, that part of the legend has been warped by folklore. They remember only that we could be hurt by iron, and have forgotten the forging process, and exactly whose blessing they needed."

I winced. I hoped that not too many Irishmen had tried using normal iron on the local monsters. It would probably work about as well as throwing a bronze doorknob at an empousai.

"What about the hair stuff?" I took those out of my backpack. "Did the boar run off while a barber was working on him?"

"The Twrch Trwyth was once a human king, and kept his hair implements when he was transformed into a beast for his evil deeds." He took the straight razor and looked at the edge. "The kill was yours, and so the spoils of war go to you as well."

Hey, the boar had a name. My opinion of the 'spoils of war' must have shown on my face, though, because he laughed and handed back the razor. "Don't be so skeptical, demigod. The scissors will cut the strongest hair, the comb will untangle the worst snarl, and the razor will give a smoother shave than any other. When Ysbaddaden demanded these to trim his hair for his daughter Olwen's wedding, many men died to retrieve them."

"They died so someone could cut his hair?" Attacking the boar because he was destroying stuff, I could see, but just to get the scissors?

Ysbaddaden was a giant. They have very aggressive follicles, Seafoam explained.

Manannan's lips twitched again at the look on my face. "He had a prophecy that he would die on his daughter's wedding day. He was hoping that her suitor would die in the attempt, or at least fail to meet his conditions for the wedding."

My reply was cut off by a distant bark and a huge body crashing through the trees. I remembered that they'd healed her, and tried to figure out how to say 'thank you' without saying the words. "The Salmon said that one of you healed her. I'm glad she's all right. I don't know what she'd come back as, if she died."

Mrs. O'Leary came bounding out of the woods. She looked tired, but wasn't hurt. She still had enough energy to give me an enthusiastic licking that I wasn't able to move fast enough to avoid. Blackjack trotted out of the woods behind my dog.

Boss, you're back! Who're they?

"Lord Manannan, Seafoam, that's Blackjack, and this is Mrs. O'Leary," I introduced as I tried to dodge the tongue. "Down. Down, girl. Sit."

Manannan? Is your prophecy over, then?

"Yeah," I answered. I finally got her to lie down, and used a front leg as a bench. "I met the Salmon of Knowledge, who gave me a gift. I'm not sure what it does yet."

"You're not?" Manannan asked. "You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

Boss, what's he saying? Can you understand him?

I looked from Manannan to Blackjack. "What do you mean?"

He's not speaking English.

"Yeah he is." I hesitated, and actually listened to the words that were coming out of our mouths. "Aren't you?"

"I am speaking Manx Gaelic, son of Neptune. And so are you. Quite fluently. " The sea god raised an eyebrow. "You didn't realize?"

I'd only noticed that he didn't have an accent. Blackjack had understood me, and not him; probably because I was Poseidon's son. To test it, I shuffled in my backpack for the brochure I'd gotten at the Causeway yesterday, which had sections in a couple of different European languages. A few sentences later, I'd confirmed that I was able to read French and Spanish just as well as I read English.

(Which actually meant not all that well, but I wasn't going to complain about still being dyslexic.)

"Wow. He was right, that's going to be a huge help."

So how did your prophecy tell you to find the Salmon? Seafoam asked casually.

The prophecy was pretty much complete now that I'd gotten the gift I needed to start a world tour; I owed Rachel big for this one. There couldn't be any harm in telling them. As I started speaking, I noticed that I'd switched back to English automatically, probably because the prophecy wouldn't rhyme in Gaelic. I'd have to see if I could translate stuff later.

"On the waves of Manannan mac Lir

Where the children of Morrigan breed

The dream of the poets and seers

Shall offer the prize that you need.

The choice between knowledge and wisdom,

Made well, is the choice that will send

The son of the sea on a journey

That continues for time without end."

The god and his horse stared at me in silence for ten heartbeats. I counted.

Then Seafoam started laughing.

I'd heard horses laugh before- Blackjack liked a good joke- but never like this one. He was whinnying so hard that he was almost braying. If he were human he'd have had tears coming from his eyes.

"Enbarr! Control yourself!" Manannan snapped. I could hear the word he was actually saying now that I was paying attention- Enbarr, the foam of the wave breaking on the shore, which the Salmon's gift had let me hear as 'Seafoam'.

His riders' words had no effect- the horse continued laughing, and once or twice choked out phrases like 'son of the sea' and 'hunter!'.

Seriously, stop. You sound like a donkey. You're giving horses everywhere a bad name, Blackjack told him.

That seemed to help Seafoam calm down, but then he looked at Blackjack and that set him off again with a nicker of 'wave-runner!'. He actually collapsed onto his front knees.

"Enough!" Manannan flicked his fingers, and Seafoam dissolved into little bubbles that flowed back into the ocean. I saw the horse reform a bit farther out and gallop away over the waves, still whinnying loudly. We stared after him while Manannan sighed and massaged his temples with one hand. I got the feeling we'd managed to give him a headache.

I was irritating gods in multiple pantheons. I had a gift.

What was that about? What was so funny? Blackjack finally asked, breaking the silence.

Manannan shook his head and answered Blackjack in English. "Nothing. A cosmic joke. One that he just found out we may not be the butt of after all."

"I could use a good laugh." I didn't like the horse's reaction. There was nothing in our prophecy that was that funny.

"You had to have been there," he answered dismissively. I wasn't happy about it, but pressing a god for answers he didn't want to give was a good way to get turned into a guppy. I let the subject go.

"Well, Lord Manannan, it's been a pleasure, but we should really be getting back to the Firefly and it's a bit of a flight, so if you'll excuse us…"

"It will not be as long a flight as you think," the sea god said with an odd expression on his face, and nodded out at the horizon.

I looked at the distant shape just visible through the morning mist, and realized that I could feel the parts of myself that made up the Firefly. I had a limited range, and couldn't feel my ship when she was more than a few miles away. "Oh. Thanks for bringing her."

Uh, boss…

"Do not thank me."

I turned my face away so he wouldn't see the eye roll. "Sorry. I'm glad to have her here, I mean."

He shook his head. "That taboo is a custom of the Little People, not of the Children of Danu. Do not thank me, because I did nothing. She came at your call."

"The Giant's Causeway is nowhere near here." It was more than a hundred miles, as the corbie flies. I'd called the Queen Anne's Revenge to me once, but she had been much closer. The Firefly would have had to set some sailing records, too- the Hunt hadn't even gotten to the coast of Ireland until a few hours ago.

He shrugged. "Nevertheless."

You don't know your own strength, boss.

Well, I wasn't thirteen anymore. At least this was more useful than making volcanos erupt. I hopped off my makeshift bench and shoved Mrs. O'Leary's nose until she woke up. "Come on, Mrs. O'Leary. Breakfast. Go home, girl."

She whined and went back to the forest to find a shadow and travel back to the Firefly.

Breakfast sounds good. So does dinner. And midnight snack. We missed them all, Blackjack complained as I mounted.

"We'll make up for it," I promised. I was as hungry as they were, and seriously needed a nap. I turned to say good-bye to Manannan, but he was gone.

No, not gone. Just moved. "He's on the Firefly. Let's go."

Despite his exhaustion, Blackjack couldn't have gotten us in the air any faster if he could still walk on it. The sea god was waiting next to Mrs. O'Leary when we landed, and was looking around with the same strange expression on his face.

"Welcome aboard."

He missed the sarcasm entirely. "Thank you. It's rare to see a ship of this type these days. You built her well; she'll take you far."

"She's a good ship." My irritation faded a bit; I was kind of a sucker for anyone who could appreciate what a beauty the Firefly was.

"Yes, she is. I am our god of sailors, as well as the god of the sea. It's good to see young folk still interested." He rummaged around in the feathery man-purse that he'd stuffed the weapons into earlier, while I took the bag of kibble left up here from yesterday morning and dumped it into Mrs. O'Leary's bowl to keep her occupied.

"I am also the guardian of the Mists that surround and protect the Blessed Isles. None can enter without my invitation. Now, where did I put it…hah!"

He hauled a tree branch out of his man-purse and handed it to me. An actual tree branch, much larger than the bag it had come from. It looked like it was made of metal, with silver bark and leaves and nine tiny golden apples clustered along it, but the detail on it was more than even Hephaestus could have managed. It had been grown, not made, and was one of the most beautiful objects I'd ever seen.

"What's this?" I asked, turning it over.

Ooh. Apples, Blackjack drooled.

"Your invitation, and your passport. It was my custom, when I was the only god in this sea, to allow the greatest mortal sailors of the day into the Blessed Isles. It is annoying that you are a son of Neptune, but you acquitted yourself well in the Hunt, and none would deny you welcome."

"You want me to visit your Olympus?" That seemed a bit suspicious. I was the son of a god that this guy didn't like. He didn't seem to be holding Poseidon against me, but that didn't mean that there wasn't a catch somewhere.

"Our home is more similar to the islands in your Underworld," Manannan answered. "The Isles are a paradise for mortals. You will not be touched by age or death. There is no fear, pain, or suffering, only happiness and plenty."

He sold it well. It might be interesting to visit, as a last stop before heading into the Mediterranean. "How long are you inviting us for?"

His lips twitched up. "Forever. You would be free to leave, but most who have tried have found that the years had passed like days without them realizing. They dissolved into dust when they touched the soil of their homeland."

And there came the catch. I wanted to go to the Isles of the Blest in the Underworld, yeah, but only after I'd died three times. I handed him back the silver branch. "No thanks."

"Your afterlife has no paradise greater than the one I offer you. Do you understand what you are refusing?" He didn't seem offended, though. His smile actually got wider; I had the feeling he'd expected the answer.

My answering smile showed a lot of teeth. "It sounds like dying. I've got a prophecy that says I'll be traveling for the rest of my life. I'm just getting started."

"And is that your desire? To journey for the rest of your days?" he asked intently.

"That sounds great, yeah."

He laughed. It was delighted, and relieved, and happy. The sound had a little too much in common with Seafoam's breakdown earlier to make me comfortable.

I needed to start a stand-up comedy act. I'd be a hit with the entire Irish pantheon.

"So be it, then, and my blessing upon you, Percy Jackson."

He turned and placed the base of the silver branch against the foremast at a bit higher than head-level. A power reached out to me through the contact point, asking for permission. It was a warm, happy, growing feeling. I invited it in and let it burrow into my awareness of the ship. The branch fused with the mast, and stayed in place when he let it go.

Manannan pulled one of the golden apples off the branch and tossed it to Blackjack. Where the apple had been, a silver bud sprouted.

Blackjack crunched the apple and stamped a foot. Boss, you need to try one of these. I've never eaten a better apple.

"And you never will, for the apples of Emain Ablach have no peer," Manannan told him. "A reward for your efforts last night, Wave-runner. When freshly picked, one apple is all the food needed for the day, and they will regrow overnight."

He looked back to me. "Should you change your mind, simply return to this spot and sail west. You will reach the Blessed Isles within a day, and I will ensure that you leave in a timely fashion."

Gods. Even when they weren't family, they were aggravating. "Was that a test, then? Why was that the correct answer?"

"A test…" Manannan said musingly. "Yes, I suppose you could call it that. There was no correct answer, only each person's choice. I would have made the other one, given the chance. The Isles have been my home for thousands of years. The prospect of leaving did not appeal."

What do you mean? Why would you leave? Blackjack asked.

"We have our own seers, you know. They spoke of a son of the sea, a member of the Wild Hunt, a horse that ran on the waves, and a journey. Tell me, son of Neptune, what is my full name?"

"Manannan son of …" I trailed off. 'Mac Lir' meant 'son of the sea'. The slightly queasy feeling I'd had since Seafoam started howling with laughter at my prophecy intensified.

He smiled slightly. "Indeed. My father faded long ago; I have been the god of this sea for nearly as long as the Tuatha de Danann have lived here. I would have done my duty, and followed the prophecy, but I took no joy in it."

I took a slight step backwards. "Is that all they saw? Just that some guy who could make his horse run on the waves was going on a trip?"

"Of course," he agreed easily. Too easily. "What else would there be?"

"Nothing like, say, a choice that means that your islands will be saved or destroyed? Because I've had too many nightmares about that."

"No. Nothing like that. The only choice mentioned was in the prophecy you brought with you." He raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Bad experiences." I relaxed a bit. Not completely, but a bit. "It still might be about you. I'm not even Irish. Why would your seers be seeing anything about a trip I'd make?"

"Why, indeed. It will be interesting to see how far you go, Percy Jackson." Manannan rummaged around in his featherbag of holding again and pulled out a brochure and a couple of business cards. "Enjoy your stay on the Isle of Man. Some interesting things are happening on the island. There's a museum dedicated to me nearby, and when you go to Douglas I recommend stopping by this company. They're having an open house in two days."

I glanced at the information, and was about to ask why a sea god had suddenly turned to playing tour guide when he added, "I must go; Badb just challenged Lugh to a drinking contest, and that can only end in tears. We will meet again, Percy Jackson, when you next ride with the Hunt in these waters."

I dropped the brochure. "Wait, what?"

"I'm sure I mentioned that already; try to keep up," he chided. "You passed your initiation with flying colors, and are now a member of the Wild Hunt. We don't normally recruit still-living mortals permanently, but no mortal has ever supplied their own flying horse and hellhound before, and you did deal the killing blow to the Twrch Trwyth, so an exception will be made. You're missing the after-party, of course, but there's always next time."

Initiation? Blackjack squawked, and then added, What next time?

"The Winter Solstice, probably, though we sometimes put it off until the first day of spring. Even if you're not sailing in the Irish Sea, you're free to join any of the other chapters of the Hunt. Most of the Celtic deities participate. They'll know when you're in the area and swing by to pick you up." Manannan was laughing at us again, I was sure of it. He knew damn well we'd just been trying to survive. "It is far easier to join the Hunt than it is to leave it, son of Neptune."

"You call that easy?" It came out as a strangled squeak. I coughed and tried again as I remembered my original problems with these guys. "Lord Manannan, do you normally hunt humans? Or demigods?"

He looked slightly offended. "We do not. There is no honor in pursuing the helpless. Mortals are rarely formidable enough."

Good for us for not being helpless, then, Blackjack said weakly. We're just that awesome.

"Yes, congratulations," the god agreed. "It was a Hunt to remember. Fair winds, Percy Jackson and Blackjack Wave-runner, and fare well!"

I looked away fast when he started glowing brightly. When Manannan was gone, I sat down heavily on the deck. I realized vaguely that I should probably be worrying more about this, but I couldn't really manage to work up the energy.

We're not actually going through with that, right? I don't care how wild the after-party is if these guys go after the biggest monsters around.

"We'll be long gone by the Winter Solstice. This isn't a Greek thing; Artemis doesn't let guys in her Hunt," I reassured us both. "And if we run into one of these other chapters… well, at least they hunt as a group, right?"

Look how well that worked out last night. And my hooves are going to ache for days.

"At least we got an apple tree out of it."

Don't think that gets you out of finding the closest doughnut shop.

"I wouldn't dream of it." I finally worked up the energy to tell the hammock hanging from the mainmast to extend out to the foremast, and had ropes haul up some spare sailcloth to block out the sun. I'd done this fairly often on the way over the Atlantic, and had slept up here on some of the clear nights- and, twice, on the stormy ones, where I'd made a waterproof tent to keep the rain off Blackjack.

"Do you need anything else? Oats?" I was trying to stop myself from falling asleep, and I could tell Blackjack was too. Mrs. O'Leary was already asleep again, even though she'd only had a light meal.

No. Manannan was right, one apple's enough. Eat one before you go to sleep, boss. Blackjack had seen me push myself enough over the last couple of years to tell when I was about to collapse.

I hauled myself to my feet and grabbed one of the tiny apples off of the new branch on my foremast, and then had a thought and grabbed another. The small brazier Chiron had given me, with a part of the eternal flame from the campfire at Camp Half-Blood, was down in my small galley. I didn't know whether or not Artemis had helped with the thrown spear earlier, but it was usually safest to assume that the god you'd prayed to had answered your prayers. I went down the ladder and tossed one of the apples into the fire.

"Artemis."

I ate the other apple (and Blackjack was right- I'd never eaten a better one), brought a couple of blankets up to the deck, and slept for the rest of the day.

SotWS_SotWS_SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS

I had nothing better to do, and ignoring the advice of a friendly god was a fast way to make them unfriendly, so I did visit the House of Manannan in the nearby town of Peel and learned more than I'd ever really wanted to know about the history of the Isle of Man. The day afterwards, I went to the open house he'd mentioned. The company, Excalibur Almaz, was dedicated to long-term commercial business and tourism in space. It turned out that the Isle of Man was a world hub for private space-faring companies. The tiny dependency of the British crown was the European nation most likely to return humanity to the moon, and was the fifth-most-likely in the world, after the US, Russia, China, and India.

"Lousy turnout," I observed at the warehouse where the company's recently-acquired Soviet-era space stations were being stored. I was alone; Mrs. O'Leary had already returned to Camp Half-blood in preparation for our departure for the Mediterranean in a couple of days, and Blackjack had dropped me off and left to look around the island some more.

"This event wasn't really well-publicized, I'm afraid. It was a last-minute thing, though we'll probably see more people wander by in the afternoon," the company chairman Arthur ('call me Art') told me. He was a balding white-haired guy in his mid-sixties, and was playing tour-guide to the first group, which looked like it was just going to be me. "Let's get started, shall we?"

I got my first look at the vaguely bell-shaped re-entry hulls as he ushered me through the door. They were clunky and about as attractive as the Twrch Trwyth. It didn't matter- their reason for existing was enough.

We walked around the re-entry capsules and the space station cylinders while he chattered about the Almaz program they had come from and the company's plans for them. I mostly tuned out the business information, but was a lot more interested in the long-term goals of sending a private voyage to the moon and of asteroid mining. He didn't miss that I'd turned away from the ships for the first time since I'd seen them.

"Interested in that, are you? Back in the Age of Sail, not all of the sailing expeditions and colonies were funded by the monarchies of the time. Private companies and interested parties funded ships as well. We're taking that as our spiritual example. Have you ever wanted to go into space?"

I shrugged. "All kids want to be astronauts, right? I went through that phase. Then I tried the space food at the Smithsonian."

He laughed. "Like everything else, the food has been improved with technological advances. Don't let that stop you."

"It'd be nice, yeah, but I can't fly."

"Ah. That would be a problem, yes," he agreed sympathetically. "A medical condition?"

"A genetic inability." A skydiving trip might be OK as long as Zeus wasn't paying attention, but a space launch didn't seem like the kind of thing he'd miss. And astronauts were usually pilots themselves- that much had stuck with me from that visit to the Air and Space Museum with my mom years ago.

"Well, don't give up just yet." He looked like he was trying not to smile. "You're still young. Who knows how far you'll go?"

He turned away and began chattering about the crew living arrangements on the space station. In a word: cramped. The tour took another hour, and I left the warehouse remembering that old dream for the first time in years.

I shook my head and put it behind me, and whistled to call Blackjack and get back to my own streamlined, beautiful, roomy ship. I'd spend tomorrow seeing a bit more of the Isle of Man with Blackjack, and head for the old lands the day after. There was so much I hadn't seen yet; this world was enough for one lifetime. I didn't need to chase after the impossible.

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August 11, five years after the Second Olympian War.

"That was Amaterasu-omikami," Apollo answered his sister grimly. "Sun goddess of Japan. Central deity of the Shinto pantheon."

Athena sat frozen in shock as several of the other Olympians let out cries of outrage. It could not be. Betrayal, from this source, was inconceivable.

"Treachery!" Zeus snarled. "Poseidon, what is the meaning of this?"

Above them, the amphitheater had settled into whispers of consternation. The few minor gods who had come to witness the hoped-for decision to open the gates of the mountain had found gossip of far greater interest. Openness, honesty- this was the legacy of Percy Jackson's demand, and it would come back to haunt him today. The news that the demigod that had bargained for their thrones was in bed with the leader of a rival pantheon would be around Olympus in minutes and in the ear of every god in the West as soon as the gates were open.

"My son is no traitor, Zeus!" Poseidon snapped back. "And I would know the meaning of this, if I had been allowed to look in on him!"

Inconceivable, that she had judged his character so poorly. She could not have been so wrong.

"He's sleeping with the enemy, Poseidon. Quite literally." Hermes was gripping his caduceus so tightly his snakes were protesting. Athena knew he was fond of Percy, and this betrayal, so soon after his own son's, would hit doubly hard.

Inconceivable.

(adjective: impossible to comprehend or believe. She knew well what the word meant.)

"There is another explanation! We do not know what sent him to Japan; he may not have gone by choice." Poseidon looked like he was seconds away from summoning a deluge into the throne room. Zeus's own hand was giving off sparks. The mounting tension, paradoxically, gave Athena the impetus she needed to clear her mind.

Set aside the hurt pride; set aside the shaken faith in her own judgment. Re-examine everything she knew of Percy Jackson. Rebuild her analysis of his character from the ground up. Come to the logical conclusion.

"Oh, she invited him, and he accepted willingly," Apollo said with a bitter smile as he flopped back onto his golden throne. "She sounded quite fond of him. And Amaterasu doesn't like the West. At all. He must be good."

A betrayal from Percy Jackson remained inconceivable.

"Then he does not consider it a betrayal." Athena's calm voice cut through the clash of rising power. Her advice, though not always popular, was inevitably wise. That she spoke in defense of a son of Poseidon would sway more of the undecided Olympians than a thousand testimonies from his friends on the council, the greatest of who were already indulging their hurt feelings.

Now at the center of attention, Athena continued, "Percy Jackson is loyal. It was his highest virtue and greatest flaw long before he bathed in the River Styx, which enhanced all that he was. Deliberate treachery could not occur to him."

"As you reminded us all too often in the war, his flaw is personal loyalty," Artemis pointed out coldly, "which a lover might well command. Whether it is deliberate treachery or simply thinking with the wrong head scarcely matters."

"He still sacrifices to his father," Hestia said quietly. "And to some of the rest of you, once in a while, but consistently to Poseidon."

"He does," Poseidon confirmed. "Not since yesterday, but he has gone silent for far longer in the past when he was not near a fire. He still honors the gods as he was taught."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Ares drawled, picking at his fingernails with a knife. Athena judged him to be one of the few in the room who truly did not care one way or another; he was merely adding fuel to whatever fire he could.

"We lack the information we need to make a rational judgment." Athena directed her advice primarily at her father, who had dismissed his nascent lightning bolt and leaned back to listen to the debate, stony-faced. "We have removed ourselves from the world for too long. We do not know what sent him to Japan, or what could have caused Amaterasu's change of heart. Percy Jackson still has his part to play. Condemning him in haste would be unwise."

"Then go gain your answers," Zeus told her grimly, "and find how deep his offense runs."

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Athena appeared next to her daughter's current project, a gazebo for the Muses in their favorite garden. She had done an exemplary job in the rebuilding of Olympus; the battle damage had been cleared up and the emergency repairs finished in the first three months, and then she had dedicated herself to redesigning and rebuilding every building that had been affected. Two years ago, she had completed those projects and had turned to the requests for new structures, which had accumulated as the gods and immortals of Olympus saw the buildings she had designed.

"Annabeth." She did not raise her voice, but it echoed through the garden anyway. Annabeth's builders glanced her way, and her daughter jerked her head up and handed the blueprint to one of them.

"Mom!" Her favorite child jogged over to her. Athena was the most fortunate of the Olympians in that respect. When it became clear that their isolation on Olympus would extend for years, Athena had been allowed to transport her daughter directly to Olympus whenever Annabeth requested it out loud, as long as she swore not to discuss the affairs of the gods with her fellow demigods. Annabeth and the chariots of the Sun and Moon were the only exceptions to the otherwise rigid prohibition against travel out of Olympus.

There had been talk of sealing the breach, and keeping her on Olympus until the gates were opened, but Annabeth had declined to leave her friends and mortal life for so long, and Athena had argued against it in the council. All of the Olympians save Poseidon had assumed that Annabeth did not wish to leave Percy Jackson. Athena had stayed silent and allowed their misconception to continue, for it meant that Aphrodite had been her supporter and had swayed several of the male gods from indifference to Athena's side.

Poseidon himself had stayed out of the debate. Before the gates had closed, Athena had informed him that her daughter and his son would not become a couple, and had also warned him that if he took revenge on Annabeth for his son's lost chance at immortality, she would retaliate on Percy Jackson to the exact degree. She suspected that would not have stopped Poseidon if his son had been heartbroken, but they had both looked in on him when he was at home with his mother, and he showed no grief.

She had thought no more on it, and had merely forbidden Poseidon to interact with her daughter without her present. The three had only met four times in the last five years to finalize the plans for various building projects for Poseidon. The meetings had all been brief, and the topic of Percy Jackson had been carefully avoided.

They were both regretting that now.

"Hermes had some difficulty delivering Percy Jackson's invitation to the anniversary celebration," she told her daughter as Annabeth reached her. She could feel the attention of the other Olympians on the conversation; the minor gods were not impudent enough to spy on her. "We were hoping you could shed some light on his whereabouts."

"Percy?" Annabeth asked in surprise. "He's probably still in Hainan, unless he's gone to Tokyo already. I'm not sure when he was planning on heading back."

"Heading back?" He'd made multiple visits, then- worse and worse. The other location was even less expected; Hainan was an island in the South China Sea, and the southernmost province of the Republic of China. "Why was he in China, and what business does he have in Japan?"

"He's been sailing on the Chinese coast for a while, and he's in Japan because some of the friends he made there last year asked him back for his birthday," Annabeth answered, still puzzled. She didn't miss the surprise that briefly flitted across Athena's face. "You… didn't know?"

"Our restriction to Olympus was very thorough," Athena informed her. "We knew when our unclaimed children came to camp, but could look no further."

"He was planning the trip before you closed the gates. He found the Firefly the day after the war ended," she said flatly.

"Things were chaotic, after the war." Athena closed her eyes, remembering their deep exhaustion after the fight with Typhon, their dead children, the damage and thousands of lives lost to Typhon and Oceanus, and the signs that Gaia was stirring and waking her youngest children at the time when they could least afford a new war. "Poseidon likely had too many other demands on his attention. Why was Percy looking for fireflies?"

"He found a sunken wreck and brought it to Camp Half-blood, and spent the next couple of years fixing it up. He named it the Firefly when it was done." Annabeth shook her head, frowning. "That makes no sense. Percy said the ship was too badly damaged to be fixed when he found it. Poseidon repaired the keel for him."

"I suspect that will be news to Poseidon," Athena answered dryly. Percy Jackson had an unusual affinity for ships, and it would not be the first time he had displayed unexpected powers. "Why did he wish to sail to Japan?"

"Because it was there, I guess. I've never asked why, exactly, but as soon as he left Burma he skipped Thailand and Malaysia entirely and headed straight for Okinawa."

Athena realized she was missing something significant. "Annabeth, how long has Percy been gone?"

"Three years. We had his going-away party on his eighteenth birthday, and he left the next morning." Annabeth was studying her closely. "Why is that a problem?"

She smoothed her expression. "Poseidon said his son was in New York on his last birthday."

"He keeps his hellhound with him most of the time. It wears her out, and she can't really go anywhere else for a couple of weeks, but she's able to shadow-walk Percy and Blackjack home once in a while," her daughter explained. "This is the first birthday he wasn't planning on spending in New York. He came back in March for his little sister's third birthday, and I don't think he thought he needed to come home again so soon. I'm sure he'll come to the party once he hears about it, though."

She pulled out her phone and selected a number, but was quickly informed that the phone was out of coverage area. "I'll try Facebook."

"He uses a cellular phone?" Athena asked as Annabeth pulled out her brother Daedalus' laptop, which was still far ahead of the current models even after seven years. "Local monsters will hear a demigod using one no matter what part of the world he is in."

"He stopped caring years ago," Annabeth answered with cold satisfaction. "We've all got phones now. Things have changed."

Athena paused, and looked in on her claimed children. The younger ones remained at Camp Half-Blood. The ones older than eighteen, though, were in the boroughs of New York. All of them. And the monster density was far, far lower than it had been a few months after the war.

"You've created a safe-haven," she murmured.

"We've maintained it," she corrected. "Percy started using his phone regularly, and the monsters in New York that didn't learn to ignore the signal died fast. We never let the population recover. Groups of us get together a couple of times a week in different parts of New York and set ambushes. People get the chance to make longer calls while everyone else takes care of anything that shows up. Short calls are usually fine now as long as we don't attract anything at home, and wireless internet is almost risk-free. Hardly anyone gets attacked randomly anymore."

"Efficient. Well done."

Annabeth smiled at the praise and logged onto Facebook. She navigated to Percy Jackson's page and scanned through his most recent activity. "No, nothing new; he's only added pictures since he told us that he was heading to Tokyo for his birthday. Typical. He'd rather call home and fight an army of monsters than write a two-sentence update."

Athena looked over her shoulder as Annabeth clicked through a set of rainforest pictures tagged 'Jianfengling Nature Reserve'. "He probably took these for Grover. He's gotten good with the camera on his phone; he got some pretty impressive ones of the Parthenon a couple of years ago."

"Do you know anything about the friends he is visiting?" Athena asked. Nothing of the import of the query showed in her voice, but Annabeth was her daughter and knew her well. Athena did not make small talk, or ask idle questions.

"No. He's never said anything about staying in touch with anyone from Japan." Her tone was deliberately casual. "That's weird, actually. It's the sort of thing he'd mention. Percy doesn't really talk about himself much, you know? But he likes to tell stories about places he's been to and the friends he's made along the way. When he met Tiberinus and Rhea Silvia he told me all about them next Christmas. And ever since he sailed out of the Mediterranean, he's only talked about humans. He says he's fought monsters, but never describes them. And he's never mentioned meeting a single god."

She paused for a beat, then added, "That started about the time that Iris Messages stopped getting through to him."

Athena met Annabeth's grey eyes, so similar to her own, and did not deny the insinuation. Annabeth took the silence for the answer it was meant to be and dropped the line of inquiry. She turned back to the laptop and typed a few sentences on the message board to let him know, in couched terms, of the five-year anniversary party on Olympus.

Even if Annabeth was correct and he was willing to slight the Shinto gods to attend the Olympian celebration, Athena doubted Percy would have access to an internet connection in time to read the post. Takama-ga-hara, the home of the celestial gods of the Shinto pantheon, would deliberately contain nothing invented by Hermes.

Annabeth clicked the laptop shut decisively. "Percy usually lets demigods contact him, since he doesn't want to get anyone attacked, but he talks to his family and Rachel Dare pretty often. You could ask them if he's called home recently."

"We likely will." Athena turned away, and then paused and turned back. "Why did you and Percy Jackson never become romantically involved?"

She stiffened. "You didn't care back then. Why does it matter now?"

"I had believed that he desired more than you wished to give. In this day and age, sixteen is considered young to make a dedicated romantic commitment." If Athena had interpreted the timing of events correctly, though, the true answer would divert the resentment of Poseidon and possibly of Aphrodite, who was rather fond of the palace Annabeth had built for her.

"That wasn't the problem." She made an unconscious gesture of warding, and shook her head sharply. "Something changed after the war. Percy changed. The only reason he stayed in New York to graduate high school was because his ship wasn't fixed yet. He's got a… wanderlust, I guess is the best word. Grover said it made him feel like he had ants crawling under his skin."

She put aside an old memory and met Athena's eyes, calm once more. "Before he left, Rachel gave him a prophecy that said he's never going to stop travelling, and he was thrilled about it. That's not what I want out of life. He asked me to come with him. I asked him to stay with me. And we decided not to hurt each other."

Athena smiled slightly and disappeared.

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Apollo materialized behind the Delphic Oracle while she sketched the satyrs that were tending the strawberry field in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

"Rachel Dare."

She jumped and jerked her hand across the paper, ruining the drawing. "Damnit!"

"Well, if you really want me to, sure," Apollo agreed cheerfully.

"Um, no, that's okay," she said as she closed the sketchbook. "Welcome back, Lord Apollo. What can I do for you?"

His sunny smile didn't waver, and he'd finally calmed down enough to keep his eyes a human blue. "We're looking for Percy Jackson. Annabeth Chase said you might have talked to him more recently than she had."

"Probably, yeah," she agreed. "He called yesterday to let me know that he wouldn't be able to take any calls on his birthday. He'd just flown into Japan and has managed to find probably the only place in the country with no cell phone coverage to stay at."

"Flown?" He felt Zeus's focus on the conversation intensify.

"He took his pegasus with him," the redhead answered smoothly.

Apollo raised an eyebrow. "God of truth, sweetheart. A lie by omission is still a lie."

"…He picked up a flying carpet somewhere back in the Middle East. He still prefers riding, though." She shrugged. "When the cat's away…"

A memory whispered across her mind- a memory she associated with that phrase. Apollo finished the saying as he'd seen it. "The mice go skydiving. Not smart, dear."

Thunder rumbled across the sky as Zeus figured out what that meant. Rachel winced.

"So, um, you can find Percy in Japan. And," she said to the sky, "he probably rode a pegasus to get there."

"Do you know anything about his lover there?" Apollo asked bluntly. Athena might dance around the issue, but he wasn't about to bother. Percy Jackson didn't deserve discretion.

"His what?" She gaped at him, and then snapped her mouth shut and shook her head. "He hasn't said a thing! Are you sure?"

His expression darkened, and she raised her hands defensively. "Sorry. Of course you're sure. As far as I know, he hasn't dated anyone since we broke up."

"Since you what?" He started glowing, just faintly, and she took a step back.

"Whoa! No sex was involved, we're just friends!"

Truth.

Apollo stopped short and turned away, taking a deep breath.

Right. He knew that. Even on Olympus, he'd have known if his Oracle didn't meet the qualifications for the position anymore. He was second-guessing everything today.

"Apollo." His twin appeared next to him in a flash of cool moonlight. "Finish swiftly and return to Olympus; we are needed in council."

He turned his attention back to the mountain he'd just come from, and felt the new problem. A foreign deity at the gates. Probably Shinto just because of the timing, although he couldn't tell who it was from out here.

"I'm done. She knows nothing."

"A moment, then." Artemis turned to Rachel. "Did your oaths become tiresome so quickly, Oracle?"

She straightened defiantly. "I am not of your Hunt, and have not sworn to turn my back on all association with men, Lady Artemis. Percy knows the requirements of my position and in high school there were social situations that were made easier by a visible boyfriend. We went to each other's proms together, nothing more."

"Many of my fallen Hunters once heard similar lines." She gave Apollo a look of exasperation, and he shrugged, unrepentant.

"Yeah, but Percy's not like that. You know that. It's Percy."

"Men change," Artemis sniffed.

"Percy won't ever change that much." Rachel shook her head, bewildered. "What happened? Why do you even care who he's dating?"

Apollo checked his watch. "Ah, look at the time!"

"Better that you not know, maiden." Artemis hesitated, and then asked, "He made no advances?"

"He was a perfect gentleman," she answered exasperatedly.

They departed in flashes of silver and gold, with a pensive expression on Artemis's face.

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"-clear sign of a guilty conscience!" Zeus snapped as the twins appeared back in the council room.

"We have always instructed our children to keep encounters with other pantheons to themselves," Poseidon answered. "He is only keeping to that tradition."

Apollo glanced around as he sat back on his throne. Hermes was absent, but Hestia was seated in her throne and the amphitheater had been cleared to receive the visitor. The physical absence of the minor deities meant nothing at all; each god's power was connected to their throne, and if they bothered to focus on it they would know what happened in its vicinity.

Apollo could feel all of Olympus focusing on the throne room at the moment.

He was about to ask about Hermes' empty throne when the god himself returned, accompanied by Hades.

"I hear we're getting visitors," the dark god said dryly as he moved to the iron throne next to Poseidon's. "Can't have an empty spot, hmm?"

"Your input will be invaluable, brother. Your children got along so well with theirs, after all," Hera remarked acidly.

"And Poseidon's child has gotten much closer to them than Adolf ever did," Hades riposted, clearly amused by the entire situation. "Who are we expecting?"

The question was directed at Apollo, who knew more of the Shinto kami than any other Olympian. He focused on the goddess proceeding up the path to the summit, and frowned.

"Five syllables. 'I've never met her.'"

Hades lost his smirk. That wasn't just an inconvenience; it was a critical intelligence failure. They should have noticed this goddess a long time ago.

Most gods found it uncomfortable to leave their own domain. It was possible, but they were stripped of the vast majority of their power, and if the part that had been sent out was killed they had to spend a painful few days pulling themselves together at the heart of their territory. The lesser gods, the genus loci of the rivers and cities, did not leave their homes unless Olympus moved, and often not even then.

The greater gods had larger domains but the same limitations, with a few exceptions that had nothing to do with power. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades were the greatest gods of the West, but outside of it they were almost human. Of the Olympians, the gods that had the farthest reach were the gods of philosophy and trade, of invention and movies, of music and war- the gods of the aspects of Western Civilization more portable than their heavens, seas, or afterlife. When Apollo had visited Allied-occupied Japan to witness Emperor Hirohito's Humanity Declaration, the West had been at the height of its supremacy in Japan, and he had retained the majority of his power.

Cultural exchange went both ways, though. In the glory days of the Roman Empire, the Celtic horse-goddess Epona had shrines in Rome and the cult of the Persian war god Mithras had spread through the legions. Today, the influence of foreign gods was usually subtler, but still very much present, and they made a point to be aware of the ones in the West.

The Shinto goddess now approaching the Hall of the Gods was probably only moderately powerful in Japan, but she had kept most of her power while walking into their home. And they had no idea who she was.

"Five years. So short a time, even for mortals," Demeter murmured. "What happened, to let a new goddess reach so far?"

"She's old," Hades disagreed. "She was close to death, and fairly recently."

"She's come to introduce herself," Dionysus pointed out practically as he finished his Diet Coke and let the goblet disappear. "We'll figure all this out soon enough."

The goddess paused at the entrance to the throne room, probably waiting to be announced. They were considerably less formal than the Shinto court, though, so Zeus just called out,

"Enter."

Her sniff of disdain was audible from across the cavernous room, but she came in anyway. She was human-proportioned until she altered her size between one step and the next to match the fifteen-foot Olympians. The Shinto goddess was a beautiful Japanese woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, with a pale face, black hair, and deep brown eyes. She was dressed in a brown silk visiting-kimono with fields of rice, herds of game animals, and a shoal of fish embroidered along the sleeves and hem, and was carrying a round, brightly-polished silver mirror cradled in both hands.

She stopped just behind the hearth, far enough out from the semicircle of thrones to be able to see all of the Olympians without turning, and gave Zeus a bow slightly shallower than she should have offered to a ruler.

"Lord Zeus, King of Olympus, greetings." Her voice was calm and cold. "My mistress, Amaterasu-omikami, would hear your explanation for the intrusion of your court on her privacy this night."

Ah. Right. They'd had concerns other than the potential diplomatic incident, but they had kind of spied on the ruler of another pantheon while she was asleep and naked.

"And who has she sent to request answers, goddess? We do not know you," Zeus rumbled back.

"I am Uke Mochi, goddess of food."

That almost made sense. Instant ramen was in every grocery store and convenience mart in the United States, and there were hundreds of sushi restaurants in New York alone. It almost made sense, but-

"You're dead," Apollo blurted.

Thousands of years ago, she had gotten a visit from Amaterasu's brother and husband, the moon god Tsukuyomi. Uke Mochi had vomited up a feast for him to eat while he was watching, and he had destroyed her for the insult. The Shinto underworld, Yomi, was their equivalent of both Hades and Tartarus; fallen gods sent to Yomi did not return.

"I have recovered." Rather than elaborate, Uke Mochi knelt and lifted the mirror in her hands to her chest. "You mistake me, Lord Zeus. I have been sent to demand nothing of you. My lady will hear your answers personally."

She sent her power into the mirror, and it expanded to cover half of the hall. They could see their reflections briefly before the image twisted and distorted until it showed Amaterasu in the throne room of the Palace of the Sun in Takama-ga-hara. The throne she was sitting in was a pretty chair, and nothing more; the Shinto gods did not place their power in thrones the way that the Greek gods did.

Apollo let out a startled curse as the image in the mirror resolved more fully, because the Japanese sun goddess was flanked on either side by a god seated in a less-elaborate throne. The god at her left hand was her brother Susano'o, the Shinto storm god. That was unusual enough, because his relationship with his sister and queen was notoriously tempestuous. It was nothing, though, compared to the presence of the god in decorative silver armor at her right, because Tsukuyomi had not been in Amaterasu's company since Uke Mochi's destruction.

When Amaterasu heard about the loss of her friend, she had been so furious that she banished Tsukuyomi from her presence entirely. She and her husband hadn't so much as been in the same room in all of the centuries since, and they always travelled in different parts of the sky. The Shinto pantheon had settled into an elaborate dance to keep the two apart without slighting either of them; all entertainments were held in duplicate, one in the day and one in the night, and the few occasions that required both of them to be present had an entire cohort of gods doing their best to tactfully ensure that they were never close to each other.

Uke Mochi had been resurrected, and so Tsukuyomi sat at his wife's side for the first time in millennia. In the five years Olympus had been silent, everything they knew about the internal politics of the kami of Japan had been turned inside out.

"Gods of Olympus." Amaterasu was now dressed, and in the full court regalia, with multiple layers of paper-thin silk that were only visible at the elaborately arranged collar. Her outermost robe was a solid dark gold that matched the color of her eyes perfectly. "Tonight, I sensed the intrusion of your combined powers in my palace and woke, only to find that your entire court had chosen to spy on my rest. What explanation do you offer for this insult?"

She was angry, but less so than she'd probably like them to believe. Apollo had seen her much more furious, seventy years ago when she'd had no choice but to welcome a foreign sun god to Japan. Sending Apollo, rather than wise Athena or silver-tongued Hermes, had been a deliberate insult on their part, meant to imply that Apollo would be shining above the island soon.

"You have in your palace a son of Olympus," Zeus answered darkly. "His father could not find him in the West, and we aided his search. Finding him in your realm was as much a surprise to us as it was to you."

"A thin excuse. Do you expect me to believe he is searching only now, when Jackson Percy left Poseidon's waters years ago?" Judging by Amaterasu's lingering glance at Poseidon, she was also cataloging the similarities to his son, but was coming at it from the opposite direction than the Greek gods usually did.

"I expect you to-" Zeus started to retort, but he was cut off by Susano'o's bark of laughter.

"They've been too quiet since their civil war," the storm god said to his sister. Susano'o had gotten rid of his beard since Apollo had last seen him, and had switched to brown hair rather than the deep black of either of his siblings. He was also the only one of the three wearing a suit, probably more to irritate Amaterasu than for any other reason. "They've been licking their wounds. They really did just figure out he was gone."

"Enough of this," Poseidon snapped, clearly stung. "We all know you hate our children, Amaterasu. What is my son doing in your home?"

"Your concern, however belated, does you credit, Poseidon." Her tone said exactly the opposite. "Do not be troubled. Your son is a welcome guest in my palace-"

"So we saw," Aphrodite said cattily.

"-and is free to come and go as he pleases. No coercion holds him, and none here would harm him. You have my word of honor." To a Shinto god, it was an oath as binding as the Styx.

"You can say that, with your husband at your side?" Hera asked coldly. Apollo figured the situation hit a bit too close to home. "Does your queen's oath bind you, Tsukuyomi, so much that you ignore the man in her bed?"

Susano'o was overcome by a sudden coughing fit. Tsukuyomi waited for his brother to catch his breath, and then answered calmly,

"I have no quarrel with Percy, and you are mistaken. The rest of the palace uses futons. If there was a bed involved, it was his."

"Okay, stop. Just stop." Apollo decided they'd danced around the question for long enough. Seventy years ago, Amaterasu had handed the task of escorting him around the island to Tsukuyomi. Giving the job to a god she never intended to see again had been meant to insult them in return; because the god in question was her husband, they couldn't even claim she'd been rude. Apollo knew the moon god had been just as humiliated by the outcome of the war as his wife had been.

Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu hadn't been husband and wife in anything but name in thousands of years, and they'd both taken other companions in that time. That hadn't necessarily changed, even if they were getting along well enough to present a united front against Olympus, but they had always been discreet enough about it that it hadn't entered into the mythos. Now, Amaterasu was openly flaunting a Greek demigod as a lover, and Tsukuyomi, who had killed gods for lesser insults, didn't care.

Apollo didn't have a way to condense all that into a few words, and finally just made an encompassing gesture. "What happened?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Athena sighed. "Percy rescued Uke Mochi."

The brief moment of shocked silence was broken by an eardrum-splitting crack of thunder. Poseidon groaned and rubbed his forehead when Amaterasu inclined her head slightly in agreement.

"He completed a task long thought impossible. We owe Jackson Percy a great debt."

"I was still mortal when I went to get my mother, I think, and that Harry Cleese guy did the same thing," Dionysus mused. "It's not like it's hard."

"Yomi does not have the revolving-door policy of your underworld," Tsukuyomi replied in the same blandly mocking tone as before.

Hades snarled. "Listen, Shinto-"

"Peace, husband," Amaterasu said, glancing reprovingly back at the silver-eyed moon god before returning her attention to the Olympians. "I will accept that your intrusion on this night was an honest mistake. Another attempt to spy on Takama-ga-hara will be considered an act of aggression, and we will respond accordingly."

"How… unexpectedly understanding of you," Hermes said with narrowed eyes. Apollo agreed; the Shinto queen was never so tolerant. They were still missing something.

"And what of my son?" Poseidon asked tensely.

"That will be between you and Ryujin," she answered. "I trust you will keep Percy's best interests in mind when the two of you meet."

They all took a second to connect Poseidon's upcoming meeting to the fact that his favorite son was squarely in the heart of Ryujin's ancient waters, and then Poseidon was on his feet with his trident in hand. "Hold Percy hostage and the tsunami I send your way will make you remember the last one fondly!"

"Do you question my word, Olympian?" Her voice rose, and her eyes flared bright gold briefly. "Percy does not need your protection!"

"Amaterasu," Tsukuyomi said quietly. "The phrasing was open to mistranslation."

Well, that answered that. They were ruling together again, if he was able to give her advice in public. This, of course, begged the question of where in Tartarus Percy fit into the equation.

She took a deep breath, and visibly let her anger go, until she had on the same stoic mask she had been trying to hold the entire conversation. "Percy is not a captive. Ryujin holds him in high regard as well. He intends for you to release Percy from his filial obligation to you and your pantheon-"

"Did you just ask me to disown my son?"

"-so that Ryujin may adopt him, and make him god of the territories in dispute."

The words hit Poseidon like a blow. "What?"

"The waters of the North Pacific," Amaterasu elaborated, slightly impatiently. "Ryujin will give the North Pacific waters to Jackson Percy, and include a stretch of his territory to the south that also touches your waters to fix the current borders between your oceans permanently in place. Percy's rank will be equivalent to the Dragon Kings directly under Ryujin."

"No," Poseidon whispered as he sank back into his throne, shaking his head slightly in bewilderment. It was almost painful to watch. "Why would he- why would you ask him to do this?"

Apollo realized distantly, through the shock and the simmering rage that hadn't ever really gone away since he'd summoned the picture that started this whole fiasco, that Poseidon's counterpart was good at political compromise. Even though the territory would stay under Ryujin's influence, the terms were favorable for the West.

The borders would be under the rule of a god that had strong ties to both oceans; Poseidon would not attempt to take Percy's realm, and he'd know that Percy wouldn't advance any further into Western waters if the opportunity came up again. Giving Poseidon's lost territory to one of his sons would allow Poseidon to save face, and the oceans would avoid a costly war. Percy's proposed realm was larger than any of the seas ruled over by the Dragon Kings, and if he became Ryujin's son as well, then the treaty would make him Triton's equivalent in the Far East in all but name. The position of heir was usually ceremonial anyway; neither Poseidon nor Ryujin would be fading anytime soon.

It probably would have worked, if they hadn't been asking for Percy Jackson.

"This proposal was not my suggestion," Amaterasu answered, misunderstanding the question completely. "Before he came to my court, Percy rescued Ryujin's eldest daughter from the Yamata-no-Orochi. A debt is owed, and this is the reward Ryujin would give him."

Apollo glanced at Susano'o, who had killed the giant eight-headed dragon the first time it had formed. Amaterasu was focused on Poseidon, but her brothers were studying the other gods. They hadn't missed Zeus's rigid posture, or the hissing of Hermes' snakes, or that Hera's throne was sprouting peacock feathers.

Amaterasu continued, "Ryujin desired the support of the pantheons he has been associated with since time immemorial. Bringing a Greek into his oceans could not be done lightly; he would not jeopardize his alliances when simple patience would serve to keep them.

"My price to welcome Percy to Japan, you already know. When Percy sailed to China last year, the Celestial Bureaucracy assigned Guan Gong to observe him. Two months ago, they fought the demon Chi You side-by-side and defeated him, and the Jade Emperor agreed that Percy would be welcomed by his court."

At the mention of Guan Gong, his counterpart in the Taoist pantheon, Ares drove the dagger he had been absently toying with through the leather armrest of his throne. Apollo was viciously glad; Ares hadn't cared about the defection until that instant.

"Your son will be gladly received in my pantheon and by the Taoist deities," Amaterasu concluded. "You need have no concern for his safety in Ryujin's waters, Poseidon."

"I… don't think that's the problem," Susano'o murmured.

"How dare he?" Hera hissed. "How dare he?"

Amaterasu looked around, and finally realized that the only reason they hadn't been interrupting was because they were mostly too furious to speak.

"Why do you object? Their treaty will affect few in the West outside of the seas, and peace in the oceans can only benefit them."

"We are only startled by Ryujin's proposal, Amaterasu," Athena replied calmly. "Percy is loyal to his father and family."

"His mortal family, surely," she answered, making a dismissive gesture. "But he sailed from the heart of your power years ago, and has made himself welcome in every realm he has passed through. He has earned divinity many times over, and your civil war ended five years ago. You have been absent from his life for longer than you were in it. Would you ask him to be loyal to the gods of his childhood, even unto death?"

"Gods of his childhood?" Hermes snarled.

Poseidon said nothing, but only sat rigidly on his throne as he aged before their eyes.

The part of Apollo that was always guiding the Sun Chariot glanced down to the sea. It was flat and mirror-like.

Shock.

They'd be lucky if California was still attached to the United States when he snapped out of it. How could Percy do this to his father?

"We know that Ryujin has not yet given this treaty to Poseidon, and I have never heard that the dragon god would make a promise he is unable to keep. Have you discussed this proposal with Percy?"

Apollo couldn't believe Athena was still trying when even Poseidon was giving up. Pride, pride and a complete unwillingness to believe she could be wrong-

"There would be little point in raising his hopes too soon. The timing of the Jade Emperor's agreement is convenient; Ryujin hopes to have the details finalized in time for Percy's birthday."

- and the most annoying part was that she almost never was.

"So," Athena clarified, "Percy has not agreed to become a god?"

Amaterasu raised her eyebrows. "You cannot imagine he would refuse."

When that sank in, Apollo started laughing, which set off Hermes and Ares. Poseidon relaxed, and his white hair started darkening to black.

"Good communication is so important in a lasting relationship," Aphrodite remarked, pretending to try to hide her smile behind an upraised hand.

Zeus stood decisively, and summoned a thunderbolt to his right hand.

"Ask Perseus, then, of his… childhood. Ask him of his sixteenth birthday, and the destruction of Kronos his grandfather. Ask him of the reward he was offered, and of what he requested instead. And when he has given you your answer, remember this. We do not release him. Perseus Jackson is and will forever remain a son of the West. And if he should accept from your hands what he refused from ours, know that we will go to war for the insult."

He threw the lightning bolt, and the expanded mirror shattered into a thousand pictures of Amaterasu's startled face, leaving Uke Mochi visible and still holding the original mirror. She made a rude gesture at Zeus and assumed her true form, departing in a huff.

"You really should take over the theater from Dionysus, you know," Hades remarked.

"Poseidon," Zeus snapped, ignoring his eldest brother, "bring your son home."

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In this chapter, Percy got hand-wavy language powers from a magic fish. Please assume that any conversation he has in the rest of the story is in the native language of the speaker unless told otherwise.

Like this one, all future story chapters will be split between Percy's trip and the present day. Percy will head for the Mediterranean next chapter and will visit countries bordering or in flying distance from the Mediterranean, the Black Sea, and the Red Sea until roughly his nineteenth birthday. He'll spend the next seven or so months in the Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean, then head directly to Japan for plot reasons as soon as he comes into Ryujin's territory. He'll spend the rest of the time until present day in Japan, China, and Taiwan.

Percy's trip is the part of the story I've only got a vague outline for. If you want to see Percy visiting somewhere, interacting with a particular myth, or acquiring a specific piece of magical bling, I'm open to suggestions! (And, regarding the trip: although I try to do the research, I've never visited these places. If you have, please let me know if you see inaccuracies.)

Mythology notes:

Banshee- Banshees in Irish folklore were fairy women that would wail when there was going to be a death in the house. They were a very bad omen, but weren't actually responsible for the death; only in more recent pop culture have banshees gotten a sonic attack. Fairies were always creatures to be wary of, though, and monsters don't like demigods, so although I left out the sonic scream this one is more aggressive than is traditional.

Aughisky (agh-iski) -An Anglicization of the Irish each uisce; also called the each uisge in Scottish Gaelic. It is among the most vicious of the various shape-shifting Celtic water horses; unlike the kelpie, which lives in running water and may only drown anyone gullible enough to ride the pretty horsy standing by the river, the sea-and-lake-dwelling each uisce will also devour the entire body except for the liver. If saddled and bridled, it is an excellent mount as long as it's ridden inland, but if it sees the ocean the horse becomes uncontrollable, dives in, and eats its rider.

Tuatha de Danann- The 'Children of Danu', the gods of ancient Ireland, who were supposedly driven into sidhes (fairy mounds) or to Avalon-esq islands by the coming of new settlers to Ireland. Eventually folklore and Christianity turned them into the Fair Folk. I'm using the Tuatha de Danann with names from the myths as gods; the various breeds of fairies from Irish folklore are the in-story equivalent of the various types of Greek monsters.

'Suicidal newt'- An alp-luachra, which has mystical effects equivalent to a tapeworm's. Swallow it, and you starve no matter how much you eat. It can be gotten rid of by eating salted meat next to a stream, until it gets thirsty and leaves through the mouth to get a drink.

Clurichaun- From the Irish clobhair-ceann. Little drunk fairies. If one moved into a wine cellar, he would avail himself of the contents; if the owner was lucky, the clurichaun also guard the cellar and prevent any of their servants from doing the same thing without permission. They're hard to get rid of- if you pack up and move to get away, he'll probably move with you. Sources differ on whether the clurichaun is simply an off-duty leprechaun, a regional variation of the same fairy, or a different race entirely.

The Wild Hunt- The Irish version of the Wild Hunt is the sluagh, which was either made up of malevolent fairies or the souls of the damned, depending on whether the tale was written before or after Christianity took over. When making the choice between having Percy fight fairies or go boar-hunting with them, I thought the latter would be more interesting, so he didn't meet the sluagh described by Irish folklore. There are variants of the Wild Hunt from all over Europe, and I tried for more of a 'true neutral' vibe than 'always chaotic evil.'

The leader of the Hunt is Odin, or Gwyn ap Nudd, or King Arthur, or the horned god Cernunnos, or the Headless Horseman, or any of a dozen others (and not always male); the host could be made up of the souls of the damned, dead heroes, fairies, pagan gods… the lists go on. The Hunt is generally accompanied by hellhounds; the white hounds with red ears are the Cwn Annwn, from the Welsh version of the myth. Since the boar was also from a Welsh myth, I thought it was appropriate, and modeled the leader of this particular Hunt vaguely on Anwyn, the ruler of the otherworld in the older Welsh mythology.

Twrch Trwyth- (Irish: Torc Triath) The pig is from the Welsh tale Culhwch and Olwen, an Arthurian legend set to parchment c. 1100 AD, before the French poets got ahold of him. In short, Culhwch wants to marry Olwen, but her father, the giant Ysbaddaden, has a prophecy saying he'll die on his daughters' wedding day. Culhwch is backed up by his cousin Arthur's war band, though, including Manawyan fab Llyr, so Ysbaddaden gives the suitor and company thirteen wedding gifts that they need to collect before the wedding can happen.

Half of the material that has come to us through the ages is about Arthur's warband doing side-quests to collect the various people, animals, and objects that he'll need to hunt the Twrch Trwyth so Ysbaddaden can style his hair for the wedding. The boar himself was not hard to find, since he had already laid waste to a third of Ireland. They chase the boar and his seven piglets across Ireland until he gets annoyed at the random Welshmen attacking him and crosses the Irish Sea to destroy their homes instead. Then they chase the pigs across Wales until they manage to kill the piglets and get all of the grooming utensils off of the boar's head. He is eventually driven off a cliff in Cornwall and swims out to sea followed by two magic dogs.

The Salmon of Knowledge and Fionn mac Cumhaill- The only (surviving) legend the Salmon appears in is The Childhood of Fionn mac Cumhaill. Fionn's teacher, the bard Finnegas, had fished on the banks of the River Boyne for seven years looking for the Salmon. He finally landed it, and told Fionn to cook the fish, but not to eat any of it. Fionn did so, but a blister rose on the fish when it was cooking. He pushed down on the blister with his thumb, and it popped open and burned Fionn with the fish-juice. He stuck his thumb in his mouth to cool the burn, and became the first to taste the Salmon of Knowledge. When Finnegas started eating the salmon and didn't feel any different, he asked his student what had happened, and Fionn told him about the blister. Finnegas was a good sport about it, and gave the rest of the fish to Fionn. From then on, when Fionn needed to know something, he stuck his thumb in his mouth and the knowledge came to him. He went on to gain his father's former position as the leader of the Fianna, the warband of the High King, and was one of Ireland's greatest heroes.

Manannan mac Lir- 'Lir' is a grammatical variation of Lear, or 'sea'; Manannan has the sea-god post in every Irish legend he appears in, and the 'son of the sea' thing may be metaphorical. (There is a legend of the Children of Lir, but that Lir wasn't a sea god, and may just have had the same name.) The Welsh cognate is Manawydan fab Llyr, who was included in the original hunt of the Twrch Trwyth. The color-changing coat, crane bag, horse that can run over the waves, association with the Isle of Man, and job guarding the path to the Blessed Isles are all from his legends. The apples of Emain Ablach (the Isle of Apples) would never be reduced, no matter how much they were eaten, and whoever ate them wouldn't need any other food. The silver branch, sometimes with and sometimes without golden apples attached, is a common theme in several legends of sailors who headed out there.

One of those legends is of King Cormac of Teamhair, who met a nameless man on the road carrying a silver branch with nine apples of red gold. The king asked him for the branch, which had the ability to make anyone forget the cares of the world when the leaves rustled, and the man agreed to give it to him in return for three gifts to be named later. Cormac, having the bargaining skills of a five-year-old, agreed. (It was really nice branch.) The 'three gifts' were his wife, son, and daughter. Cormac was happy with the drug-branch for a while, but even though he was incapable of being sad, he eventually realized that this might have been a bad thing to do, and goes after his family. Manannan made it easy on him and transported him to his home island with a magic mist. Or Mist, if you prefer. When he made it to Manannan's house and figured out who the guy who'd taken his family was, he was reunited with his wife and kids, and they were sent back to Teamhair, presumably with a lesson about contract negotiation thoroughly learned. As a parting gift, Manannan gave Cormac the branch and a nice cup that broke into three pieces whenever the person holding it said a lie and repaired itself whenever they spoke the truth.

The drug-branch kind of creeped me out, so Percy's doesn't have that power. Planting it in his ship let it grow very nutritious apples instead.

Excalibur Almaz exists, and was founded by Arthur 'Art' Dula. They do eventually want to send a privately trained team to the moon, but that trip has a price tag of $150 million USD per ticket.

Takama-ga-hara: 'High Plains of Heaven', the home of the celestial gods. It is traditionally connected to earth by the 'floating bridge of heaven', which is guarded by the god Sarutahiko.

Uke Mochi and Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto: This is the Just-So-Story about why the sun and the moon are in different parts of the sky, creating day and night. The version of the story where Uke Mochi vomits up the feast is actually the least scatological; in some of them, she also shits and pisses part of it. While killing her was extreme to modern sensibilities, it's hard to blame the guy for being sickened. After her death, Uke Mochi's body continued to produce seeds; her eyes, ears, and nose produced stuff like rice and beans, she sprouted a mulberry bush with silkworms, and wheat and soybeans grew from her genitals and anus. Humans started farming to raise the food that came from her body after she died.

Uke Mochi's kimono is a homongi. My mental image for Tsukuyomi is coming from tablis . deviantart dot com / art / Tsukuyomi-The-Moon-God-84761827

Yomi: Fair warning: the underworld is a very poorly-defined part of Shinto mythology. If there are actual descriptions of it, comparable to the fairly detailed descriptions of Hades in Greek mythology, then I haven't seen an English translation of them. I'm not even sure who rules down there; I've seen stories where it's a never-seen god named Yomi, the goddess of death Izanami, or Susano'o. (It won't be Susano'o in this story, although he lives near the entrance.) When I show Percy going down there, I'll be making a lot of it up.

The only attempt to bring back the dead from Yomi occurred when the first woman, Izanami, died birthing the fire god Kagu-tsuchi. Her husband Izanagi went after her, but pulled an Orpheus and looked at her when she'd asked him not to, and saw that she had become a rotting corpse. Furious, she sent a group of hags to kill him, but he escaped and pushed a huge boulder across the entrance to Yomi. She shouted from behind the boulder that she would cause a thousand humans to die every day as revenge, and he yelled back that he'd cause 1,500 births to make up for it. And so, we die.

Adult adoption is culturally acceptable and relatively common in Japan, usually as a way to keep a business within the family while still making sure the heir is competent. The prospective son often marries a daughter of the family in addition to being legally adopted, leading to the saying 'Better to have daughters than sons, for then you can choose your sons', but men can simply be adopted if that is not possible. (Though Ryujin would still have preferred it if Percy had gotten together with one of his daughters.)

Dragon King- The rulers of the seas in Chinese mythology. In my aforementioned squishing of the ocean dragon mythologies together, the Dragon Kings of the North, South, East, and West Seas are the gods of those areas of the ocean under Ryujin's overall rule.

Susano'o and the Yamata no Orochi: When the gods tricked Amaterasu into coming out of her cave after Susano'o and Amaterasu fought, she stripped Susano'o of most of his power and banished him to the mortal realm. (One wonders why she didn't just do that in the first place.) He wandered around for a while having adventures until he ran into a couple of upset minor kami. He asked them what was wrong, and they explained that the Yamata no Orochi, a dragon with eight heads and eight tails the size of mountains, had demanded seven of their daughters as tribute over the last seven years and had just come back for their last daughter, Kushinada-hime.

Susano'o told them to relax, turned the girl into a comb and stuck it in his hair, cross-dressed, and took her place. He had the earth gods brew eight giant tubs of sake, and gave them to the Orochi, which drank all of them and fell into a drunken stupor. Susano'o killed it, cut it up, and found a magic sword inside of its body. He gave the Kusanagi sword to Amaterasu as an apology and she rescinded his banishment; the sword is now one of the three Imperial Regalia of Japan. Susano'o married Kushinada-hime, settled down, and became a severely overprotective father. A nice picture of him and the Orochi is at

shugonotenshi. blogspot dot com /2012/12/susanoo-sea-and-storms-god. html

Jade Emperor: Yu Huang Shangdi, the ruler of the Heavenly Bureaucracy, the massive organization of gods in the Chinese folk religion. Chinese gods were considered to have been organized similarly to the bureaucracy that was used to rule over Imperial China. In Taoism, he is still the ruler of the Heavenly Bureaucracy, but is subordinate to the Three Pure Ones, the manifestations of the Tao.

Guan Yu: Often called Guan Gong (Lord Guan), or Guan Di (Emperor Guan). Guan Yu was a general under Liu Bei, who founded the kingdom of Shu in the Three Kingdoms period of China after the fall of the Han Dynasty. He is one of the main characters of the highly romanticized and aptly named Chinese epic Romance of the Three Kingdoms, wherein he performs various feats of valor until finally getting captured by the nominal villain, Cao Cao, who tried to get him to switch sides and join him. He refused, and was executed in 220 AD.

Guan Yu had really good publicity and was deified by the Sui dynasty, roughly three centuries later, and there are legends that neatly fold his worship into Taoism (i.e., his defeat of Chi You, below) and Chinese Buddhism. He's still widely respected as a general, is credited with blessing a number of victories for worthy causes, and is generally considered to approve of people who follow codes of loyalty and righteousness. As such, Guan Yu is paradoxically worshipped by both policemen and members of organized crime rings. I figured that he and Percy would get along.

He's also the god of tofu.

Chi You: A demon/god/king from early Chinese mythology who fought the legendary Yellow Emperor (Huang Di). He created a mist, forcing the Yellow Emperor to create a south-pointing chariot to find his way through it, and enlisted various water and rain gods to fight with him that were eventually defeated by the goddess of drought on Huangdi's side. Chi You lost the battle and was executed.

In roughly the 11th century AD, during the Song Dynasty, Chi You reportedly got annoyed by their worship of Huang Di and ruined some economically important salt ponds. Guan Yu took control of a celestial army and defeated him at the request of the Jade Emperor, and was brought into the Celestial Bureaucracy as a result of the successful campaign.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: None of my narrators are omnipotent. Or completely reliable.

This chapter took about a month longer to write than I’d hoped, and the next one won’t be out any sooner because I want to get a chapter out for my on-going Bleach story. Pretty soon it will be a year without an update on that one, which is just sad.

Also, did anyone else think that Riordan missed a good opportunity when he didn’t have Percy and Hercules meet, or was that just me?

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November, two years after the Second Olympian War

Big cliff, Blackjack remarked, munching on his oats.

“One of the biggest.” I took a bite of my late breakfast. I was sort of proud of myself- the recipe was my mom’s, and the blue pancakes tasted a lot like hers. It was pretty much the only dish that didn’t come from a can that I’d mastered so far.

We were entering the Strait of Gibraltar. There was a range of mountains to the south, and the most impressive cliff I’d ever seen to the north. This was the entrance to the ancient world, the original home of the gods and the most dangerous place for demigods in Western Civilization.

Hey, is that island supposed to be there?

“Island? There’s no…” I trailed off when I looked away from the sheer thousand-foot white outcrop on our port side and saw that an island had, in fact, materialized straight ahead of us. We were approaching a set of Grecian pillars about half as tall as the Firefly’s main mast, with ‘Nothing Further Beyond’ written in shimmering letters in the sand under water between them. It took me a minute to realize that the words were in Latin. “Weird.”

I turned us south to avoid the magic island, but the columns and island both moved with us. After a bit, I gave up and turned us straight east again. If I was lucky, this was the mythical equivalent of a border check. If not, I might wind up turned into a rodent again.

As I anchored between the pillars, a dark-haired guy in white robes and a fur overcoat appeared on the beach, clearly waiting for me.

Want a ride, boss?

“No thanks. Stay close, though. I’ll whistle if I need backup.” I dove into the water and sped towards the island. I surfaced in the shallows and got a closer look at the god.

I knew that fur coat. I’d worn its twin, before I sacrificed it to my dad to get Bessie to Olympus safely.

“You’re Hercules. What are you doing here?” I blurted out.

He smiled thinly as I came out of the water. He was a little taller than my six feet, with short black hair, blue eyes, and deeply tanned skin. He looked about twenty, but he’d probably been older when he died; gods could be any age they chose.

“And you are Poseidon’s only mortal son,” he stated, looking at my completely dry jeans and hoodie. “These are the Pillars of Hercules, Percy Jackson. Where else would I be?”

“I thought all of the gods had been recalled to Olympus. Mr. D left Camp Half-blood two years ago. “

The look on his face soured even more. Yeah, I could see the resemblance to his dad. Zeus had that same expression whenever I was around.

“After I died, Dad made me the doorkeeper of Olympus. He didn’t mention that meant guarding the doors of the ancient lands for the rest of forever.”

“You’ve been stuck here since you died?” I was beginning to get the feeling I’d dodged a bullet two years ago. “Why are you here, if Mr. D became an Olympian? You were, like, the Starbucks of Ancient Greece. You were everywhere, and the only legends you hear about Mr. D’s life are the dolphin thing or him driving people who didn’t worship him mad.”

“I did many great deeds in life, and this was my reward. To become a minor god. The Olympian butler,” Hercules answered bitterly. “Dionysus is the only god who can somewhat understand, but we were not the same. Zeus did not make him a god. He already was one- he just happened to be born mortal. He invented wine and stayed human long enough to spread his cult from Greece to India, then went to Olympus to claim his place. Believe me, not even Hestia would have intentionally created a god who would take away one of the Olympian thrones.”

“Oh. Well, um, sorry the immortality hasn’t worked out for you.” I rubbed my neck, trying to think of a way to get the former demigod off this topic. “So, do I need to declare anything to get into the Mediterranean? Magic items, weapons, that sort of thing?”

“No. I just need to give you the standard warning about how dangerous it is past this island. Not just anyone can survive. I’ll also have to give you a quest to prove yourself, but I don’t make a big deal about it. I usually just make them sing a funny song or something.”

“That’s a problem. My singing has made babies cry.” My mom hadn’t let me try to put Estelle to bed since.

His lips twitched involuntarily. “So, why are you here? What’s your quest, and who gave it to you?”

I shrugged. “There’s no quest. I graduated from high school last summer and want to see the world. The Mediterranean seemed like a good place to start.”

He stared at me. A little too late, I realized that I probably should have just made something up. “You’re going on a pleasure cruise?”

I wasn’t about to back down to the guy who’d seduced and abandoned Zoe, even if he was a god. I met his blue eyes challengingly. “Is that a problem?”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Percy Jackson.” His suddenly not-entirely-sane gaze dropped to the pen in my pocket, which he had carried in a different form.

“The hydra, the Nemean Lion, the Augean Stables, the Stymphalian birds… the list went on, history repeated itself, and then you refused godhood and took something else instead.”

He drew his lips back in a snarl that wouldn’t have been out of place on the lion that his coat came from. “And instead of destroying you for your impudence, they gave you your wishes and let you live your life in peace. And now, you’re going sailing around the world for fun.”

“I’m a son of Poseidon,” I reminded him. “Sailing is kind of my thing.”

“You wouldn’t have sailed anywhere, if you’d joined your father like you were supposed to,” he snapped.

“Mortality’s sounding better and better.” I knew I shouldn’t provoke him, but this guy was ticking me off as much as Ares.

“Normally, I don’t make a big deal about my test. But for you… they say you’re the most powerful demigod since me. You can handle something a bit more challenging.” His eyes went dark, like the sky before a storm. “On the other side of the island is the River Achelous. Bring me the river god’s horn, and you may pass.”

I waited a second, but he didn’t elaborate. “That’s all the information you’re giving me? Are we talking a tuba or a conch shell here?”

His smile was ugly. “Figure it out.”

Plague-ridden son of a hellhound. “Fine.”

I turned around and headed back into the water. I’d rather swim around the island than hike. Before diving under, I hesitated and turned back to him, taking Riptide out of my pocket and uncapping it. “The girl who gave you this sword… what was her name?”

He raised an eyebrow. “After all these centuries, why would I remember?”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“Do I look like I care?”

“No.” I replaced the cap. “No, I didn’t think you would.”

I turned and dove into the waist-deep water. I’d looked up to him when I was a kid. It was something I’d been glad to grow out of.

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I found the mouth of the river fairly easily, and walked upstream next to it until I came to a deep swimming hole. The whispers of the shallow rapids that tumbled down into it called at me to come in, relax, take a drink and cool off. That fit with what I’d come to do, so I didn’t hesitate before diving into the deep pool.

“Hey! Um, Achelous, right? Hercules sent me here.” I decided not to start out with insults the way I had with Hudson and East a couple of years ago. I probably had his attention already; it wasn’t like this was a hot vacation spot.

Hercules. A resigned voice shimmered through the water. Has he sent you to kill me, then?

I frowned. “Um, no. Does he try that a lot? He just said that I had to get your horn to get into the Mediterranean.”

Even worse. The river god shimmered into view. He was a blue bull with a man’s head at the top of his bovine neck. He had curly black hair and a beard styled into ringlets, and was wearing reading glasses.

Oh, and he had a single bull’s horn sprouting from his left side, causing him to tilt his head towards the left.

“I refuse to let him have my other horn.”

I stared at him. Yeah, that old hero-worship was dead and buried. “He wants me to fetch him someone’s body part?”

“My right horn was the original cornucopia, demigod. Good food and drink flow from it, just as my power causes this river to flow. No doubt Hercules would keep this one. To let him have it would be a tragedy and a waste.”

“Yeah, I agree. You’re a god, though- why can’t you just regrow your horn? Don’t you control what you look like?”

His blue face flushed to a dark purple. “The horns are my symbol of power, and when Hercules was a demigod he claimed one as a spoil of war. I cannot replace it. He cannot take another god’s symbol now, though. Why do you think he sent you to defeat me, instead of coming himself?”

I shrugged. “I think he just has a grudge, actually. I don’t think he expected me to come back.”

“Is that so?” He sighed, lowering his head mournfully. “He was right. You won’t.”

That was all the warning I got before several rocks from the bottom of the pool came sailing at me, but it was enough. The projectiles bounced off the water that solidified around me. “Hey, stop! I just came to- woah!”

My watershield dissolved and the rocks came soaring around again. Fortunately, he was aiming them all at my front. The only one that bothered me was the one that hit between my eyes, which had enough force to snap my head back but couldn’t actually do any damage.

“This is my river, son of Poseidon. You have no power here that I do not choose to allow you. It was foolish of you to confront a river god in his home.”

“I didn’t confront anyone! I just wanted-” A current of water slammed from him and pushed me back into the rock wall of the room-sized pool. I twisted so I hit with my shoulder first.

“Would you listen to me?!” I tried to swim for the surface, but found that the water was holding me in place. A few more rocks were sailing in the water around me, and if he tried for long enough he’d hit my mortal spot eventually.

“I am sorry about this. I cannot let history repeat itself through you. Letting Hercules have my other horn would be mortifying.”

Achelous wasn’t listening, and I couldn’t control the river around us. Last time, I’d been where the rival East and Hudson Rivers met to form the bay. This time, I was completely surrounded by the body of a single hostile god.

We weren’t that far from the shore, though.

I reached, and the sea surged into the river.

“What are you doing? Stop! Don’t you know what salinization can do to a freshwater ecosystem?”

“Is that really what you should be worrying about here?” I tried to keep the salt and freshwater separate anyway. It wasn’t difficult; there was a density difference, and he was trying as hard as I was not to let them mix.

A wave of water that I controlled slammed into me, freeing my limbs, and with the introduction of a foreign liquid we began fighting for control of the space around us. Every current that tried to push me back was met and matched by one of my own, and every rock that he threw at me bounced off the solidified circle of saltwater that surrounded me. It was a stalemate, but a temporary one. He wouldn’t get tired, and even with the water around us energizing me I’d become exhausted eventually.

I drew Riptide and propelled myself towards him, making it a physical fight. He turned and kicked out at me with both of his hind legs. I soared to the side, still heading forwards, and scored a long, deep cut down his left flank. He bellowed as he bled golden ichor, for the first time sounding a lot like a bull.

I turned and crouched on the far wall, parallel to the bottom of the sinkhole. His wound had already healed, but I’d also hurt his pride. He lowered his head and charged, horn-first.

I’m not proud of what happened next. It was reflex, mostly. I’d fought the Minotaur twice, and had broken off the same spoils of war both times.

I dodged to the side and swung, and Riptide cleaved through his horn like it was butter.

The water went still around us, and we both stared at the horn sinking to the bottom.

“No!”

He reached his power out for it, but it happened to be going through a current of saltwater, and I came to my senses and pulled it back to my hand. I gathered all of my power and pushed up. The surface of the swimming hole exploded, and I hit the bank of the river like a cannonball and rolled up into a crouch.

The entire river rose up in a tidal wave behind me. I gathered all of my own water around my arm in a giant bowl shape and crouched under it until the wave had crashed over me, and then risked popping my head up through the top of my shield to yell at the enraged river.

“If you stop attacking me, I swear on the Styx I’ll give you back your horn!”

Thunder boomed. The deal was struck.

After a shocked minute, all of the water that had surged onto the banks flowed back into the river. The surface went completely still; even the rapids were motionless and mirror-like.

I figured that was as good as I was going to get. I tossed the new cornucopia back into waterhole.

A tendril of water caught it, and the river god rose out of the water like he was on an elevator. He bowed and placed his forehead against the open section. When he lifted his head again, his horn was back in place, like it had never been cut off.

Achelous looked at me with enormous brown eyes made bigger by the bifocals. “Why?”

“I didn’t come here to steal anything. Hercules told me to bring him your horn, and didn’t tell me anything else. I wanted to find out what was going on.” I still had my water-shield between us, now shaped as a lazily swirling circle as tall as I was.

“Ah. Well.” He pawed the water, looking embarrassed. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions.”

“I should have explained that better in the first place, I think. Sorry.” I gestured at the saltwater spinning on my arm. “Do you mind if I…”

“Yes, please do.”

I sent my water back into the river, and followed it downstream until it rejoined the ocean and I released it. As I let it go, a wave of exhaustion hit me and I fell to the ground. That might not have been a good idea- the water had literally been all that was keeping me on my feet.

“The mark of Achilles?” Achelous asked, looking at me intently.

“Yeah.”

“Fascinating. I have only read about it.” His thread of water rose up again and grabbed onto the horn. It came off easily, and he stared at it in bemusement. Achelous reminded me a bit of Annabeth’s dad, actually. They had that same feeling of experimental absentmindedness, when not strafing monsters or attacking intruding demigods.

He put his horn back on, but on the other side this time. He leaned his neck to the right like he was working the kinks out, then took the horn off his head again and stretched on both sides. He looked from me to the horn a couple of times, and finally asked,

“Would you like to come in for lunch?”

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“Have you given up on your quest, then, since you will not give in to Hercules’ demand?” the old river god asked as he munched from a trough of ambrosia. His horn was resting in a depression in the rocks; similar tiny caves around the pool stored hundreds of scrolls. I’d already gotten a lecture on how bound books would never catch on, and had decided to not tell him about my mom’s Nook.

I shrugged and swallowed my bite of pasta. The cornucopia’s food was as good as Achelous had claimed. I could see why Hercules wanted it. “There’s no quest. I just want to visit the Mediterranean. Passage through the Strait isn’t enough reason to mug someone.”

He choked, and coughed until he had cleared his throat. “Are you aware that the monster density in the ancient lands is as high as it has ever been? Many of them did not move with Olympus, and you will be the only adult demigod they have smelled in years.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not too worried.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t be,” he murmured, glancing at his horn. “Why did Hercules send you to me? He does not usually try to make life harder for the demigods who pass this way. He remembers his own life too well.”

“He’s jealous, I think. I turned down the chance to become a god- um, actually, did I ever introduce myself?” That had been rude. My mom would have been disappointed in me, diving into a guy’s home and fighting him without ever giving my name.

“We do not often get visitors on this island, but the story of how Poseidon’s mortal son chose to remain mortal has reached this far, Percy Jackson. Olympian gossip travels on winged feet, and I have reception for Hephaestus TV.”

“Oh.” I took another bite of spaghetti to cover my embarrassment. I had a rep, apparently. It didn’t look like it was going to be anything but trouble, if Hercules was anything to go by. “Well, Hercules doesn’t seem to be enjoying being a god, you know? He seemed ok when he thought I was on a quest, but when I told him I was just being a tourist, he wasn’t happy.”

“Ah. That would have done it,” Achelous said, sighing. “He did not have an easy life, you know. Constantly moving, always on some quest or chasing some monster. Perhaps he was happy when he was married to Megara, but then Hera drove him mad and he killed his wife and children. He did his twelve Labors as penance for that, and his next marriage was no more successful even though he was married to the finest woman in the world. Seeing you enjoying this time of peace would likely have made him very bitter.”

I frowned, trying to remember the story. “Didn’t his wife kill him?”

“It was an accident! Deianara wouldn’t have hurt a fly!”

“You knew her?”

A scroll floated out of an alcove to my left and landed in front of him. He nudged it open with his hooves and passed it over. The section he had opened it to showed a small picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman with a teasing smile.

“Deianara. Princess of Calydon, and my fiancée, until Hercules challenged me for her hand. He insisted on combat, and broke off my right horn. I’ve never forgiven him for that. But it was even worse for poor Deianara, who picked the handsome, flashy hero over a steady husband who would have treated her well.”

“Um, how much can you shift your shape? Like, are you always a bull, or…”

“And, of course,” he continued, pointedly ignoring me, “it ended tragically. It wasn’t her fault; she just listened to some very bad advice. Hercules killed the centaur Nessus when he tried to kidnap her, and as revenge he told her as he was dying that his blood would keep her husband faithful. When Hercules continued acting like a son of Zeus… well. She spread the blood on his favorite shirt.”

“The Stoll brothers did that to one of Artemis’s hunters a few years ago,” I recalled. “She was sick for days.”

“They must have been cautious, then, because the full vial of blood gave Hercules a very painful death. When Deianara realized what she had done, she…” He trailed off and drew a hoof across his blue bull’s neck. “Hercules was made a god and married Hebe, the goddess of youth, but instead of spending time with her on Mount Olympus he prefers to sulk down here mourning his mortal life. My presence on this island reminds him of his failures, and especially of the woman who finally killed him. And his presence reminds me of the woman I loved, who should have been my wife. I have never been quite sure which one of us the gods are punishing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I waved off the amphorae of nectar he floated in my direction. I didn’t need healing, just food and rest; Achelous had given me the food, and the water around us was substituting for a nap. “I’ve met a couple of his old girlfriends. One was the nymph of the river he diverted to clean the Aegean stables. She said the waste completely trashed her river.”

“Terrible.” He shook his head. “Heroes often don’t think of the ones they leave behind… present company excepted, of course.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t want to be like that. I wouldn’t use anyone and leave them.

When I finished, I floated my plate back to the cornucopia and reached over to shake his hoof. “Lord Achelous, it’s been a pleasure, but I should be getting back to my ship. Sorry about… well, about cutting your horn off.”

“Quite all right, young demigod. It was horribly uncomfortable, having only one horn, and I can put it back on whenever I choose to do so. I apologize again for attacking first.” He ushered me to the top of the pool, and waved me off when I surfaced.

Do come visit if you are ever in the area again, won’t you? And be careful when you do get to the old lands. There are monsters still lurking there that are the equal of any you fought in the war.

On that cheerful note, I walked back to the beach and dove in. The smart thing to do would be to avoid the confrontation with the god with a chip on his shoulder, and just swim back to the Firefly and sail away.

I surfaced on Hercules’s beach anyway.

“You failed,” he stated smugly, looking at my empty hands. “I’m not surprised.”

“I decided not to try,” I corrected with a smile. I stayed in the water, just in case. “I refuse your quest. He’s a nice old guy. Very polite, once he figured out I wasn’t after his horn. We did lunch.”

Hercules raised an eyebrow. “No horn, no entrance.”

“Have you ever heard of the Suez Canal?” I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders. “I have nowhere I need to be. There’s no deadline I need to meet. Sailing around Africa will be fun. I’ll get there eventually.”

I turned away. “See you around. If I ever come back, I mean, since you’ll still be here. Bye.”

“I grant you passage.”

I froze just as I was getting ready to dive under, and turned back.

“What? Are you seriously going to try to pretend this was a test of character?”

He snorted. “Hades, no. I just think you’ll die faster this way. If you want to be mortal so badly, I’ll help you get to Elysium that much sooner.”

He knew something I didn’t. That was the default state of my life, though. “Elysium’s for underachievers. I’ll take reincarnation.”

I dove and darted back to my ship as the pillars and the island shimmered and disappeared.

Live forever in the stars, Zoe. He got his reward.

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They weren’t kidding about the monsters of the Mediterranean. As soon as I passed through the Pillars, it felt like the entire sea paused and thought ‘fresh meat’.  

Storm spirits at three o’clock! Blackjack yelled as he came in for a landing half an hour out from Hercules’ island.

I summoned a waterspout off the forward port side (Blackjack couldn’t tell time) to get the horse-shaped wind monsters off of his tail. One got close enough to be sucked in, and spun around the spout three times before shooting out in a perfect line to my waiting sword.

The rest of the herd decided they were needed elsewhere.

Pests, Blackjack grumbled. I can’t believe they’ve spread this far.

None of the demigods in America had ever seen an anemoi thuellai before the war ended. Chiron said they’d been created when Typhon was defeated. They certainly acted like it- they had the same grim determination to attack the children of the gods that their father had towards our parents.

“They might not have,” I said as I let the waterspout go and pulled up a wave to clean up the dust. “They could have been here since the first time the gods trapped Typhon. Remember where we are.”

Yeah. Everything started here. Wow. He hesitated, and then asked, Do you think we can find where Medusa died the first time?

“Why… oh. To see where Pegasus was born?” The place where his species began. Blackjack still managed to surprise me sometimes.

Yeah. It would be nice to visit.

“I don’t see why not. The Gorgons lived on an island, I think. If Annabeth doesn’t know where it happened, we might be able to ask Rachel.”

You don’t need to ask the Oracle, boss. It’s not that important.

“It’s as important as anything else we’re doing here,” I pointed out. I went to grab a few drachmas and my maps of the Mediterranean, and made a rainbow from sea spray when I climbed back on deck. “Oh, Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Annabeth Chase.”

The image showed her on the subway, probably heading to her morning classes. “Percy? What’s up? Where are you?”

“We just got into the Mediterranean. Hercules is guarding the Strait of Gibraltar, did you know?”

She thought about it for a second. “The ‘doorway to Olympus’, huh? Ouch.”

“Yeah, remind me to tell you about that when I get back to New York. Right now, though, do you happen to know what island Pegasus was born on? Blackjack wanted to try finding it.”

“The myths say Libya…” Annabeth said slowly, “…but that was what they called most of North Africa back then. It would have been somewhere near the Atlas Mountains, because Perseus ran into Atlas after he’d gotten Medusa’s head and turned him into stone.”

I hadn’t known that, and I thought I’d known the full story- it had been one of my favorites as a kid, for obvious reasons.

She shrugged at my startled look. “He got better. Or he had to climb out of Tartarus and got put back to the same punishment, I’m not sure which.”

“Did Atlas get turned into stone before or after Hercules ran into him?” I asked.

“Before. Perseus was Hercules’s great-grandfather on his mother’s side.”

And they were both sons of Zeus. The divine half of my family tree still gave me headaches.

“Perseus rescued Andromeda in Ethiopia, and had to fly east across the Atlas Mountains and the Sahara to get there,” Annabeth continued, “so you might want to find the original peak in the Atlas Mountains and try to retrace his flight from there. It would probably be one of the taller ones.”

“We’ll try that. Thanks.”

“Good luck. Let me know how it goes!”

Ten minutes later, I’d figured out where the Atlas Mountains were, and pointed out the highest peak on the map to Blackjack.

“Mount Toubkal. We’ll go here first, and look at the other tall mountains if that’s not it.”

Above us, the sails shifted and turned us south, to Morocco.

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By late afternoon, we’d docked in the nearby port of Tetouan and Blackjack and I were getting completely lost in the medina, a walled-off section of the city with roads so twisted and narrow that cars couldn’t fit through them. I’d seen a few mopeds and bicycles, but most of the traffic on the crowded streets was of the two- or four-footed variety.   There were at least a dozen donkeys on the street, carrying everything from stacked cans of Coke to televisions.

“Watch out! Watch out!”

I moved to make room for the shouting boy, who held the lead on a donkey carrying a bale of cloth larger than she was. The bale of cloth brushed against Blackjack as they passed, unbalancing it a bit, and the donkey glanced back at us and said something I couldn’t quite make out.

Yeah, and your mother was a donkey, so I wouldn’t be talking, Blackjack snapped back.

“You could understand her?”

Huh? Her accent was a bit thick, but not too bad. You couldn’t?

“She’s not a horse.” I listened to the words around us for a bit. There were at least three languages being spoken on the streets around me, but underneath the babble was something I could hear with the same power that let me talk with fish and horses. It was more of a mixture of mental speech and body language than of anything verbal, and with the donkeys it really did sound like they had a thick accent. The shape of it was familiar, and I felt like if I listened to it for long enough I might be able to make it out, but right now I was getting nothing.

“A bridle for your horse, sir?” a shop owner asked as we wandered by. “Best leatherwork in the city!”

Blackjack would kick me if I tried. “No thanks.”

The leatherworker, a deeply-tanned black-haired guy a bit shorter than me, didn’t give up. “A saddle, perhaps? Or a purse for your wife?”

I paused, and figured that I might as well get some of the Christmas shopping out of the way. I went into his stall and found a purse with geometrical patterns that my mom would like. It didn’t have a marked price, so I asked,

“How much is this one?”

“One hundred and fifty dinars.”

Less than twenty dollars. I’d changed some money after I’d gotten through customs, and had more than enough. When I handed him the right amount, though, the shopkeeper looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.

“European?” he asked as he pocketed the bills and handed me the purse.

“American,” I said.

“Is it your first day in the country?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” I was in jeans and a sweatshirt, but the people on the street were about evenly split between Western clothing and the traditional robe-dress thing with a pointed hood that the store owner was wearing, so I didn’t really stand out much. Even Blackjack fit in well; the people around us seemed to be seeing pretty much everything but the wings.

“You took the first price.”

“You overcharged me?” I asked, surprised.

“There is no overcharging, just what you are willing to pay and what you are not willing to pay. Foreigners are willing to pay much more, and so I could have asked much more.” He shook his head. “Your Arabic is excellent, but you should learn to haggle. Welcome to Morocco.”

“Thanks.” I paused, considering. I needed something for Paul, and it could be fun. “How much for those slippers?”

He smiled, slightly shark-like. “Two hundred dinars.”

“I’ll give you fifty.”

“I could go as low as one hundred and eighty.”

“I do need to go around the world on my current budget, you know. Seventy-five.”

“One hundred and fifty, and if I reduce it any more my children will be forced to wear rags…”

Ten minutes later I’d stuffed the purse and shoes into my backpack and had rejoined Blackjack, who had been listening in on my side of the conversation.

Did you get a good price, boss? Blackjack asked as we went down the darkening street.

“I have no idea. Let me find somewhere to eat before we head back to the ship.”

As the sun set, a haunting cry started broadcasting from a minaret in the distance. It was the first time I’d heard the call to prayer. “God is great. God is great. I bear witness that there is no god but God…”

“We are not in Kansas anymore, Blackjack.”

When were you ever in Kansas?

“Never mind.”

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The next day Blackjack and I flew south above the High Atlas mountains, and figured out pretty quickly that finding the highest mountain in a chain was impossible when you were looking down on it. We wound up flying over the closest city, Marrakesh, and followed the road southeast until it ended at Toubkal National Park. We landed briefly to get lunch and better directions at Sidi Chamarouch, a small hamlet centered on a Muslim shrine, and from there flew directly to the mountain they pointed at instead of following the trail.

Blackjack landed on the rocky plateau on the summit of Mount Toubkal, which was marked with an odd pyramidal metal frame covered in graffiti. I looked around us at the snow-covered Atlas Mountains. If Atlas had spent five thousand years here, at least he’d had a nice view.

No-one else was around; November probably wasn’t a popular time for the tourists.

Is this it, boss?

“I don’t know. Let’s look around and see if we can find anything.” Something should have been left behind, even after Olympus moved across the Atlantic. A branch from the apple tree, one of Ladon’s scales, something.

Two hours later, I was considering calling it quits until I’d found a snowblower. Or a fire-breathing dragon- I wasn’t picky. If Atlas or the Garden of the Hesperides had been in the area, we’d found no trace of them.

What do you think, boss? Blackjack asked.

“I think we might need to talk to Rachel. There’s no guarantee Atlas was ever here. Mount Tamalpais was the tallest mountain in the area, but I don’t think it’s the tallest one in California.”

California? Is that where the old devil wound up?

I whirled around, reaching for Riptide. There was nothing there, but that had not been Blackjack’s voice.

Boss? What’s wrong? What was that?

Blackjack was looking around in alarm. I wasn’t sure what the language the voice had spoken in, but it hadn’t been English.

“Come out!” I yelled.

No need for that, demigod. I mean you no harm, the voice said in a dry, amused whisper that seemed to come from everywhere around us.

“Who are you? Or what are you?” I asked a bit more calmly. I hadn’t actually uncapped Riptide yet, but the whatever-it-was had recognized it as a weapon already and there wasn’t anything to attack. I put the pen back in my pocket without making any sudden movements.

A good choice.

The wind blowing around the mountain suddenly started to center on a spot in front of me, and whirled up a brief snowcloud that turned almost immediately to steam. When the steam started to clear, I saw something that could almost have been fire. If fire had intelligence and a physical form, if fire didn’t need fuel or make smoke, then it might have looked like the monster in front of me.

Then I blinked, and the figure was a grey-bearded man in brown robes and a turban who wouldn’t have looked out of place in any of the Berber towns we’d been flying over.

“Who are you, and what brings you to Mount Toubkal? We have not seen your kind here since the bearer of your sky moved to America,” he said, studying me carefully.

“I’m Percy Jackson, and this is Blackjack. We were just in the area and wanted to find where Atlas and the Garden had been originally. We’re looking for the island of the Gorgons.”

“A son of Neptune?” He raised an eyebrow at the little trickles of snowmelt at his feet that were worming their way towards me. I forced myself to relax, and the water stopped moving.

“Poseidon,” I corrected, and he nodded slightly, like I’d said something profound.

“I am Sidi Chamarouch, leader of the djinn of this land,” he said.

“You’re a genie?” I blurted out, and then bit my tongue before I could ask about lamps.

Really? Does he do wishes? Blackjack asked.

I decided not to translate that. I didn’t think we’d managed to annoy him yet, but the day was young, and this guy was not something I wanted to fight if I could avoid it.

He studied me for another second or two, and then nodded again and seemed to come to a decision about something.

“Will you join me for tea?” He made a slight gesture to the side, and a patch of snow was suddenly replaced by a patterned carpet. A second later, a low-slung table with an elaborate silver teapot and three glass cups appeared on the carpet. “I would enjoy hearing what my old neighbors have been up to since they moved.”

“Um… thanks, but Atlas and I weren’t exactly friends. I’m not sure how much I can tell you.” I followed him to the table anyway. The air suddenly warmed up as I sat on the carpet, and I had to take off my jacket. He poured the steaming tea from high above the glasses like he’d had a lot of practice, without letting a drop spill.

“Indulge an old djinni’s curiosity, nevertheless,” he said. “Does he still support your sky? We heard whispers of the conflict from the south wind, but your Notus so changeable it’s rarely worth asking him for the specifics.”

“Yeah, he’s still there. Atlas managed to get one of the gods to take the sky, but got tricked into taking it back about a week later. He sat out most of the war.”

I waited until he’d drunk from his own cup before picking mine up. His twitching lips made me pretty sure that he knew what I was doing, and that he was indulging me, but I wasn’t about to get embarrassed; accepting drinks from friendly magical strangers had already gotten me turned into a guinea pig once. It was a sweet frothy green tea with mint leaves, which was sort of a strange combination, but it was a hot drink and I’d been in the air or moving through snow all day.

At his inquiring gesture, I told him how Atlas and Luke had gotten Artemis to take the sky. Even though I wasn’t really getting the impression that Chamarouch and Atlas had been close friends, I decided not to mention that I was the one who’d been holding it when Artemis had tricked Atlas into taking it back.

Chamarouch shook his head resignedly. “I wish I could say I was surprised. He never was one to think things through.”

“You don’t care?”

“Atlas was not a restful neighbor. One always had to wonder what would happen if he chose to drop his unwelcome burden,” he said, “but I do regret that the Garden moved. I did not visit his daughters, of course, but they used to sing at sunset, and could be heard throughout the mountains by those with the ears to hear.”

We talked for another few minutes about other minor stuff- where I was from, my trip so far, that sort of thing. Every time I tried to bring the subject around to the island I was actually looking for, he politely and firmly changed the subject. That continued until we’d both finished three cups of tea, and he banished the tea set with a flick of his fingers.

“And so, to business. It was not so long ago that Morocco was under Western rule, and even though Atlas no longer resides here, the influence of your family remains greater than many of my sons would prefer. You seem an honest man, and so I will simply ask. What are your intentions in this land?” His eyes, just for a second, were made of living fire before darkening back to brown.

I swallowed and spread my hands. I got the feeling that lying would be a very bad idea right then. Fortunately, I didn’t need to. “I want to find the Gorgon’s island, like I said. I’d like to explore the country a bit after that; I have a friend who’d never forgive me if I didn’t visit Casablanca when I had the chance. I don’t know anything about your politics, but I’ve never attacked anything that didn’t attack me first.”

He was silent for a long moment, judging me. Even the wind around us had gone still. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. If you come in peace, we will not hinder you. You will be watched.”

“That’s fine,” I said, relaxing. “I’m pretty sure I was being watched most of the time in Ireland. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Why did you come here to seek the Island of the Gorgons?”

“We’re looking for where the first Pegasus was born,” I said, gesturing to Blackjack, who had been listening to my side of the conversation silently, “and the myths said that Perseus went east across Africa. A friend suggested that if I found Atlas’s mountain I could retrace his flight. Since you’ve told us this is it, we’ll be heading west from here, unless you’ve got a better suggestion. Were you here when Perseus turned Atlas to stone?”

“Certainly not! How old do you think I am?” he asked. “No, I came with the armies of the Prophet, in the first century after his death. I have heard of the incident, though. Atlas complained about the sons of Zeus quite a bit.”

“…the Prophet?” I repeated. “You’re Muslim?”

“Of course,” he said simply.

“Are you…” I trailed off, not quite sure how to express what I wanted to ask. Mom and I had always celebrated Christmas, of course, and that didn’t change when I found out that the Greek gods existed, but the Christmas carols were about the only religious part of it. Most of the people I knew who also knew about our world were the same way. “Have you met your God?”

Chamarouch smiled slightly. “No.”

“Then why… I mean, you’ve met Atlas, and the Titans are basically gods that chose the losing side. You said you’ve met a wind god, and I’m sure there are others around here, so… um, why?” I asked, then thought about it and shook my head. “Sorry, never mind, that was a really personal question.”

“It was, yes, but from the son of a Greek ‘god’, it is a reasonable one,” he said, still amused. “This land has seen many beings that call themselves gods. The local Berber gods, the Egyptians and Greeks and Phoenicians, their successors the Romans and Carthaginians, the Greeks again, and eventually the Persians … they struggled with each other for power here long before my people settled in the Maghreb, and their various influences have waxed and waned ever since. We have seen empires rise and fall, and their gods with them. In the end, I, and most of my people, would rather pray to a God who is great, than to any of the ones we have met.”

He rose to his feet, making it clear that the conversation (or audience, whatever) was over.

“You friend’s idea has merit. I would suggest that you next visit the Purple Isles, off the coast and slightly to the north-west. They have been settled off and on for thousands of years. Your Gorgons may well have chosen to hide there, on the western edge of the world.”

“The Purple Isles,” I repeated for Blackjack’s benefit as I got up and put my jacket back on. “We’ll look around there, then. Thanks.”

Let’s make it tomorrow, boss. We’ve still got to fly home, and it’ll be dark in a couple of hours, Blackjack said.

“Tomorrow,” I agreed, as the carpet underneath my feet disappeared and the bubble of warm air popped. When I turned around, I wasn’t too surprised to see that Chamarouch had disappeared with his stuff, leaving only a bare patch of dirt and rock behind.

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Next morning we flew back to the Atlantic coast, although we avoided the Strait just in case Hercules’ border check included air travel too. We found the group of little islands easily enough, and landed on a beach near an old ruin on the largest one, which was maybe two miles long and a mile wide. From what we’d been able to see from above, the grassy island was the only one with cliffs high enough above sea level to have caves.

“OK,” I said, dismounting, “I guess we should just poke around and see if we can find anything-

Boss, stop!

I froze. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him sound that scared.

Look down.

There was a grey and brown viper, about five feet long, on the rock at our feet. It raised its head up, hissing, and then raised up its other head. The one on its tail.

I’d met monsters with multiple heads before, sure, but they’d at least had the decency to keep them all on the same end and to have the tail where it should be. This one made me wonder how it did certain necessary bodily functions.

“Don’t move, Blackjack. Monsters go for demigods first,” I whispered.  I’d be fine. He wouldn’t be. “Here, snaky snaky snaky…”                                                                                                                                                                                              

I began shuffling away, getting both pointed heads focused on me as I drew Riptide. I put my foot down a bit harder as soon as I was sure I had the thing’s attention, and it struck as fast as… well, as fast as a striking snake.

I swung and missed completely as the first head sank its fangs through my jeans, hit my shin, and retracted. The second head immediately whipped through my legs and bit my other ankle from behind, and then the snake had darted between me and Blackjack, with one head focused on each of us.

It had hit me twice, in less time than it had taken me to blink. I could feel little trickles of venom running down the skin where I’d been bitten. And I hadn’t even managed to touch it.

“Blackjack, when I move, go.”

Right, boss.

I gave up on precision, dropped my sword, and dove onto the thing. No matter how fast it was, it didn’t see that one coming. The head facing me hit my throat on the way down, with no more effect than either of its other strikes had had, and then I was on top of it and stopping the other head from attacking Blackjack, giving him time to get into the air-

-except that now he was trampling it into ichorous goo in front of me.

Okay then.

Ha! Try to bite me, will you!

“We need to… work on our communication,” I grunted as I got a grip on the thrashing body under me and started getting up.

Why? Our communication is excellent!

He backed away as I took hold of the snake’s other neck and squeezed. According to my mom, I’d done this as a baby once. After a minute, the snake had dissolved into golden dust that drifted away on the wind.

What was that thing? Blackjack asked.

“I don’t remember the name, but I think it means we’re on the right island.” This part of the Perseus legend I knew already; it was the sort of gory detail that had stuck with me as a little kid. Annabeth told me later that the snakes were called amphisbaena. “When Perseus was flying back to Greece, Medusa’s blood dripped out of the bag he was holding it in, and when it hit the ground it made monster snakes. They’re supposed to live in the desert. If they’re here, this is probably where Medusa was killed.”

Since there were probably more of the monster snakes around, Blackjack started searching the island from the air while I wandered around the cliffs looking for caves. After about half an hour, I almost tripped over an oddly-shaped stone in the grass. When I picked it up and looked at it a bit closer, then turned it over and squinted… it looked a bit like a bird of prey. Half of one, anyway- like it had been flying, and then fallen down and shattered. Now all that was left was a rock with weathered lumps that might have once been a wing and head.

I started looking at the rock face a lot more carefully, and finally found a cave entrance protected from the wind and the casual eye by a rock outcropping- and, maybe, a bit of Mist. I hadn’t noticed that the outcropping wasn’t part of the surrounding rocks until I’d actually stepped past it.

I didn’t go in yet. This wasn’t my quest. I let out a piercing whistle, perfected on New York cabbies, and waited until Blackjack soared down to join me.

Is this it?

“It’s the only cave I’ve found,” I said, shrugging. “Let’s find out.”

Blackjack wriggled through the opening, which was narrow enough that he had to fold his wings pretty tightly to his body. I followed him into a fairly spacious room that looked a bit too smooth to be natural. The air inside was still and musty, and did feel like it hadn’t been disturbed in thousands of years. It made me wonder how long ago Medusa’s sisters had faded.

This is it, Blackjack said quietly. He walked forward hesitantly, almost reverently, like he was in a church or a temple.

“How are you sure?”

There was a dark stain on the rock floor in the back of the cave at a good place for a bed. Medusa had been asleep when the first Perseus killed her. Around the stain were two sets of prints. One set was human-shaped, hand and footprints that looked like they’d been made by a little kid. The other set were tiny hoofprints, made by a newborn foal.

I took off my backpack and handed Blackjack the golden apple I’d picked that morning. After he’d taken it in his mouth and put it next to the stain, I walked back outside to give him some privacy. Pegasus had been a son of Poseidon, but my dad had a lot of kids, and, like my namesake, I’d killed his mother Medusa. The cave didn’t quite have the same meaning for me.

Eventually he squeezed out of the cave, and I asked, “Done?”

Yeah. Let’s get out of here before the rest of the snakes smell you.

I mounted and we headed out over the strip of sea that separated the islands from the mainland.

“So where to now? Are you getting hungry?”

No, I ate the apple.

I blinked, and then started laughing.

What? He’s a constellation now, Blackjack said. It’s not like he’d be able to appreciate it.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Do you want to do anything else while we’re here?”

They’ve got camels, right? I want to race a camel.

“South it is.”

Over the next couple of weeks we visited the Sahara (Blackjack lost, but never admitted it; I was pretty sure that taking to the air to catch up counted as an automatic forfeit), took enough pictures of Casablanca to convince Rachel that the city looked nothing like the one in the movie, nearly fell out of the air from the smell when we made the mistake of flying over the great tanneries of Fez, and got hassled so much in the markets of Marrakech that I started using the Mist to make vendors ignore us (‘these are not the tourists you’re looking for’). I’d eaten couscous bare-handed from a common bowl, and had immediately gotten a quick and comprehensive lecture on the etiquette and which hand to use. (The right, for everything except going to the toilet. Being left-handed would have sucked.) Blackjack fell in love with the local doughnuts, which they fried in stalls on the street, dipped in sugar or honey, and handed to us still warm.

After my first week in Morocco and an Iris-message to Chiron to make sure that Mrs. O’Leary had had enough time in Camp Half-Blood to recover from the trans-Atlantic journey, I called her back across the ocean. I was going to be hugging the coast most of the time for the rest of the trip, so I probably wouldn’t need to send her back alone again for a while.

The watchers that Chamarouch had mentioned had been blending in pretty well, but after a massive hellhound materialized on my deck, I started noticing that several of the nearby stray dogs and random birds were paying a lot of attention to her sleeping form. After she’d woken up, I took her to a coastal plain near the Spanish-owned city of Mellila, where we were docked that night, and just threw around her fetching-shield for a while. Nothing to see here, just a guy and his dog playing fetch… it seemed to work, and the attention faded when we didn’t do anything else unusual.

Before dawn on our final day, I took a basket with nine fresh apples and set it down next to the bored-looking brown dog on the dock. “We’re heading north on the morning tide. Thanks for your hospitality. Can you get these to your leader for me?”

The dog looked at me blankly for long enough to make me wonder if I’d actually just given a present to a stray dog. Then it snorted once in amusement and disappeared, taking the basket with it.

After I jumped back on board the ship, the ropes cast off and the receding tide tugged the Firefly back out to open water, and we turned north, to Europe.

 

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August 12, early morning, Japan Standard Time. Five years after the end of the Second Olympian War .

An enormous eagle soared above the clouds with a fish wriggling in its claws. The eagle’s grip loosened for an instant, and the fish popped free. As it fell, a wingless dragon emerged from the cloudbank beneath them and caught the fish in its jaws. As it inspected the windfall, the eagle turned, saw the dragon and realized its burden was missing.

The eagle dove, talons outstretched and screaming a battle-cry. The dragon opened its mouth and roared back, and the fish escaped once more.

I was the fish, and as I plummeted, I saw the world in flames beneath me.

I woke up.

“Demigod dreams…” I muttered, rubbing my face wearily.

I didn’t think I was going to be getting back to sleep any time soon, so I pulled on a loose pair of sweatpants against the chill of the morning and opened the sliding door into the garden to look at the setting moon. It was Tsukuyomi- if I squinted I could even make out the armor- but straight south a few thousand miles, Artemis would be soaring over Australia. Both gods were the moon, and at the same time the moon was a ball of barren rock reflecting sunlight onto the planet it orbited. It hurt my head now just as much as when Apollo had tried to explain it to Nico when we’d first met, and I tried not to think about it a lot. Except in the darkest hour before dawn, apparently.

I glanced back as the screen to the inner hallway slid open and my lovers entered. Amaterasu was in full court regalia, with all the dozens of layers of tissue-thin silk, and Tsukuyomi had on his decorative armor. I glanced outside again, and, yep, Tsukuyomi was still busy setting. Some things you just didn’t get used to.

“Hey,” I said quietly, as they both paused on the threshold in surprise at seeing me awake. “What’s with the clothes?”

“A confrontation with spying foreigners,” Tsukuyomi answered at the same volume, just as reluctant to disturb the peace of the morning. “You are up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Weird dreams. Was it the Koschei?” The Russian monster had the unpleasant habit of kidnapping beautiful women from around Eurasia and keeping them trapped in his garden until some creative hero managed to figure out how he’d hidden his heart and killed him again. There were rumors going around that he’d reformed after his last death a couple of centuries ago. If they turned out to be true, I’d already decided that I’d be sailing north to Siberia after visiting Vietnam.

“Their manners were just as bad.” Amaterasu removed the many outer layers of her robes with a gesture, leaving only two of the inner silk robes on. “I need to be distracted.”

I let my smile turn wicked, and was rewarded by Amaterasu’s blush and Tsukuyomi’s low chuckle. Good; they’d seemed even tenser than usual. Whatever the meeting had been about, they didn’t seem happy about the result.

“A story. Tell me a story.”

It was my turn to laugh as I went back and flopped on the low-slung bed, Amaterasu’s concession to my Western sensibilities and refusal to come to a palace just to sleep on a glorified mat on the floor. “You’ve got the wrong guy for that. The only bedtime stories my mom told me turned out to be real.”

“Most human stories are, one way or another.” Amaterasu joined me on the bed, tugging until my head was pillowed on her stomach and my body was angled across the bed. I extended a hand to Tsukuyomi, who shook his head slightly and went to look out over the garden. No real surprise- the man almost never even touched his own wife outside of bed.

“A story, then. What would you like to hear?”

“One of your own,” Tsukuyomi suggested. “You fought in your civil war, before you left your land behind. Tell us how your side won.”

“Civil war?” I snorted. “Never heard it called that before.”

“Sons against fathers, brothers against brothers- what else would it be called?”

“I guess. It was the gods against the Titans, and we never really thought of them as part of ‘us’ even though Kronos was the father of half the Olympians, but the demigods- yeah.” I swallowed.   Luke with the Titans, Travis and Connor at my side, and so many other examples- “Yeah, the gods against their kids, and brothers against brothers. And sisters.”

Amaterasu’s fingers were combing slowly through my hair. “Did you fight any of your siblings?”

“No- I guess you wouldn’t know, but after, um…” Some topics I’d figured should probably be avoided. (On my own, without needing Ryujin’s warning, thank you very much.) Anything about the divine half of my family was one of the big ones. World War II was the other.

Churchill had been a son of Poseidon, but Britain hadn’t been as involved in the Pacific Theater as the United States had been. Roosevelt, though, had been a son of Zeus. I was pretty sure that if I’d been Zeus’s kid, Amaterasu would have sent me directly to the underworld as soon as we met instead of telling me to walk there. General MacArthur had been Athena’s son, and the bombs had been designed by his siblings and by the children of Hephaestus.   They’d asked, though, so...

“After World War Two, and all of the… um, all of the damage, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades swore a binding oath not to have demigod kids so it wouldn’t happen again.”

Amaterasu scoffed. “Clearly their honor is as lacking as their manners.”

Ouch. I wanted to defend my dad, but, well, I was in her lap. It was pretty clear proof that the oath hadn’t been kept. “My mom’s a great woman, and Dad loved her. She would have been worth anything. And, anyway, it would have happened eventually. You can’t fight the Fates, and there was a prophecy saying that eventually one of us would be born.

A half-blood of the eldest gods

Shall reach sixteen against all odds

And see the world in endless sleep

The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap

A single choice shall end his days

Olympus to preserve or raze.

“That’s the other reason they swore their oath, to try to stop the prophecy, but it didn’t work, obviously. I wasn’t even the oldest of us. Hades kept his oath, but he had two kids already. He put them somewhere where they wouldn’t age to hide them from Zeus. And about fifty years later, Zeus had a daughter, and she was older than me, but she got turned into a tree for a few years and then decided to be a Hunter of Artemis so she wouldn’t ever turn sixteen, since they don’t get older.”

Wow, even in my head that hadn’t made sense.

“So you were the first of their children to reach the fatal age, and the hero in your prophecy,” Amaterasu summarized. “How are you alive?”

“I was the half-blood who turned sixteen, but I wasn’t the hero. It was Luke.” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, trying to figure out how to explain that complicated relationship.

“He was a son of Hermes, and a… friend.” You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend. “At least, he pretended to be. He helped me settle in when I first found out I was a demigod, gave me my first swordfighting lessons… he tried to set it up so I’d be dragged into Tartarus, and summoned a pit scorpion when that didn’t work. The scar on my hand.”

I flexed my fingers, feeling it. I didn’t actually have that many scars. Nectar and ambrosia worked miracles, and I’d been protected by the Styx for five years now. They’d never asked for the details, and I hadn’t ever volunteered them.

My lovers stayed silent, letting me gather my thoughts. Some bedtime story this was turning out to be- they were probably sorry they’d asked.

“He was angry, I guess. Angry at the gods. Angry at his dad. His mom had tried to become the Delphic Oracle and went crazy, and he blamed Hermes for not helping them. He was Thalia’s best friend- she was Zeus’s daughter- and her dad turned her into a tree because she’d been swarmed by monsters and was dying, and Luke blamed him for not helping her earlier, and all the gods for ignoring their children. Hermes loved him, I know he did, but- well, you’d know the problems better than I would, I guess.”

“It is difficult, yes,” Tsukuyomi said quietly, while Amaterasu’s hands kept moving through my hair. “Interfering to solve the problems of our mortal descendants almost inevitably causes greater damage.”

“It was even worse for Hermes, I think. He knew it was coming, and that Luke would be the hero in the prophecy, and he wasn’t able to do anything. He blew up at Annabeth when she couldn’t-” I broke off. I was getting ahead of myself.

“Luke was Kronos’s lieutenant. He recruited demigods for him, directed his forces, even gave Kronos’s orders to the other Titans. The gods had cut Kronos up and thrown him into Tartarus, and Luke helped pull his spirit back together. When Kronos needed a body when he was resurrected, he took Luke’s.

“Kronos had gathered his forces to attack Olympus. The Titans had released Typhon, the storm giant, and all of the Olympians who could fight had gone to try to bind him again. They knew they were leaving Olympus mostly undefended, but Zeus figured they didn’t really have a choice, ‘cause they needed everyone and if Typhon had gotten to Olympus then Western civilization would be dead anyway. He was probably right, too, since they were losing until my dad came with reinforcements, and he’d had to leave the fight under the ocean to be there.

“So that left Olympus defended from the air by the wind gods, and from the ground by the loyal demigods, Artemis’s hunters, a bunch of nature spirits and centaurs, and a lot of automatons. We were against Kronos and some of the other titans, some of the minor gods, a few dozen demigods, and an army of monsters. We held them off for two days, until Hades brought an army of the dead and took them from behind, and broke the attack.”

“And what was your role in the battle?” Amaterasu asked. Her hands were still moving hypnotically through my hair, and my thoughts had become slow and calm despite the bad memories.

“I led the defense,” I whispered. Modesty was impossible through the haze that had fallen over my mind. “I bribed the river gods so they could not come at us by water. I destroyed the Minotaur and defeated the Clazmonian Sow.   I routed the army that came over the Williamsburg Bridge singlehandedly, and then shattered the bridge with a swordstroke so they could not use it again. I summoned the hurricane that brought Hyperion, the Lord of Light, to a standstill, and weakened him enough for the satyrs to entomb him in a tree. I held our hope between my hands and did not give it up until it had a worthy guardian.”

“Ah.” Her sigh drifted across my forehead as her hand stilled. “And at such a young age. How foolish of us, to assume, when we know you so well.”

I opened my eyes for the first time in several minutes and glanced up at her drowsily, beginning to sit up. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing of consequence.” Her hands began combing through my hair again, and I relaxed.

“Tell us of the death of Kronos, your grandfather.” Tsukuyomi finally left the garden door, and walked over to stand by the bed and look down at me.

“He’d gotten past us, and set up a barrier around Olympus with us still inside while Hades was dealing with his army. Annabeth and I caught up with him in the throne room.” Him and Ethan. Poor Ethan… “We fought. He was winning. He could control time, and it’s hard to do much against that. Then Annabeth got hurt, and Luke started fighting his control. He loved her. But whenever I attacked, Kronos took control back, and I didn’t know how to kill him. He only had one vulnerable spot, and I didn’t know where it was.

“He was still in Luke’s body, but he was recovering his full power fast and a mortal body can’t hold a god. Luke’s body was burning away a little more each second. We had no time left, and Luke knew where his weak point was. He asked me to trust him, and to give him the knife I was holding, and I…” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes again to escape from Tsukuyomi’s intense gaze, “I made my choice, and gave him the knife. He died a hero.”

“My condolences.” His hand cupped my chin, with his calloused thumb running along my cheek in the same rhythm as Amaterasu’s hand through my hair. “And what reward did your gods offer their savior, Percy?”

“They wanted to make me my dad’s lieutenant.” I was falling asleep on them. I fought against it, and reached up to bat Tsukuyomi’s hand away. “I asked them to promise to make a place for the gods and demigods that hadn’t had one before, and to pardon the ones that had fought with the Titans, and to claim all of their kids instead.”

“They wished to make you a sea god,” the other man said flatly, letting me grab his hand and finally pull him to the bed next to us. “Why did you refuse?”

“Annabeth, mostly. We’d… not talked about us together, exactly, but… I didn’t mind the thought of growing old with her.”

“She is the friend you take pictures of buildings for, correct? What brought you around the world to our arms, instead of hers?”

“Luke loved her. She didn’t feel the same way, but she had a crush on him as a kid, and was pretty guilty about him dying, and felt like she should have saved him. After the battle I just… gave her space, I guess. I never got the words out, and neither did she. She’s an architect, and the gods had put her in charge of rebuilding Olympus as her reward. It was her dream.

“The next time we talked about it, I was rebuilding the Firefly. I asked her to come with me, but I was pretty sure she wouldn’t, and I couldn’t blame her for it when I was the one leaving. We’re still good friends, I’d die for her, but everything else just… never happened.” I’d thought Calypso would be my greatest what-if. I’d been wrong.

“And do you regret refusing godhood for a love that never bore fruit?” Amaterasu purred as she leaned over me, cupping my face in her free hand.

“Nah.”

At my casual response both deities stiffened and as she straightened Amaterasu’s next question was almost shrill.   “What? Why not?”

“It was still worth it. The Titan’s wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without the forgotten demigods and the minor gods’ kids. And the minor gods, too. They all had a lot of good reasons not to like Olympus. If nothing had changed it would just have all happened again. Plus I met Hercules on the way into the Mediterranean- do you know about him?”

“The greatest hero of your people,” Tsukuyomi said, then paused and added “…though he apparently has gained competition. Yes, we know of him. His stories present him as a most intemperate character.”

“Yeah, the guy’s a jerk. But the gods gave him the same deal, and made him a god, and he’s been stuck guarding the Pillars ever since. Our afterlife for heroes is much better. I think I made the right choice.”

“You would be different, though- would have been different,” Amaterasu corrected herself. “You love the sea. And many of the gods of the East were once human. Your friends Hachiman and Guan Gong are among them. You have made yourself welcome wherever you go, unlike Zeus’s child. You would be happy as a sea god.”

“I doubt it. My dad’s married. And they have a son. I only met Amphitrite once, when Oceanus was attacking, but it was pretty clear she didn’t want me around.” I hadn’t thought of her or Triton when I’d considered Zeus’s offer, but after meeting Hercules I’d kind of started wondering what they’d have found for me to do to get me out of Poseidon’s palace long-term.

“I see. Elevating the brilliant son of a favored concubine… civil wars have started over less, it is true. Is she why you refused me?” Amaterasu’s hands began moving again, and I turned slightly, resting my cheek against her lap as I remembered how tired I was.

“Yeah. Her and Dad, Hera and Zeus, Hephaestus and Aphrodite…” I broke off, yawning. “…someone always gets hurt.”

I’d turned them both down separately, and then they’d approached me together at the next new moon. They’d gotten back together after thousands of years apart, and I had no idea why they wanted someone else hanging around even if I had resurrected the goddess they’d split up over. Since no-one was cheating on anyone, though, my only problem had been the birth-control issues. I wasn’t anywhere near ready settle down and raise a kid, and had called in a major favor from the local fertility deity to prevent the possibility.

“Finish your story, Percy.” Tsukuyomi’s voice was low and husky. “What if there was no mortal girl you loved, no duty to the gods who forgot you, no family that would resent your triumph. Would you become a god?”

“No,” I whispered, more than half-asleep. “Too many rules… can’t stay with your kids, can’t interfere with mortals, can’t go where you want… I wouldn’t have met you, or Ryujin, or Guan Yu, or Ganga… wouldn’t have sailed any other oceans… I’d have been trapped.”

Amaterasu’s breath was almost a sob. “Then what do you want?”

I stayed quiet for a long moment, letting the question run through my sleep-fogged mind. Was there anything I wanted?

...No.

And that was my answer, wasn’t it?

“For this to go on forever… to go for the horizon… to never stop seeing new places… meeting new people. Stupid, I know…everything ends someday, but…” I yawned one last time, and trailed off, finally giving up the fight against sleep.

“A worthy dream,” Tsukuyomi murmured.

Just before I lost consciousness, I felt a drop on my hair. Saltwater. What…?

“Sleep, Jackson Percy.   Sleep, and dream no more.”

I was asleep before a second tear could fall.

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Tsukuyomi rested a hesitant hand on his wife’s shoulder, but the attempt at comfort was cut off by a sharp shake of her head. He let his hand fall to his side, fist balled, and turned his head to at least do her the courtesy of not witnessing her grief.

It had been a profitable interrogation- and there was little point in calling it anything else, for all that Percy had been willing enough to tell them his history. The gentle manipulation of the Mist was simple enough to throw off, if one tried, and likely had not been necessary to ensure he spoke the truth; but Percy, when asked to tell them of his battle with the Yamata-no-Orochi , had said ‘I shot it, then cut off the heads until it stopped moving. It was bigger than I thought it would be, but at least they didn’t grow back.’

They had needed a little more detail this time.

“So now we know why they laughed.”

They had forced him to speak. They could not blame Percy if they had not liked the truths they had received.

Amaterasu did not respond, and they sat frozen in that tableau- him on one side of the bed, her on the other, and their obstinately mortal lover between them with his head in her lap and his hand in Tsukuyomi’s. Outside, the sky began to lighten.

“Good morning, my lady! Time to rise and-um.” Ame-no-Uzume, goddess of laughter and the dawn and Amaterasu’s own personal wake-up-call, paused in mid-air at the open entrance to the garden and took in the scene. “…shine…should I come back later?”

Amaterasu moved Percy’s head to a pillow and rose without a word, shifting the remainder of her formal clothes into the white, red, and gold flowing robes she favored for everyday wear. Tsukuyomi fell into place behind her shoulder as she left the room through the opposite entrance.

“Seems like Ryujin’s little fish is a bigger catch than he thought.” Their brother gave them a sharp grin from where he leaned halfway down the hall, still in his suit. He had clearly heard everything.

“So it appears,” Tsukuyomi replied dryly. Amaterasu ignored them both and continued down the hallway.

“They’re going to summon him back, and like they said, he’s loyal to his kin. That’s admirable. Stupid, but admirable. And it sounds like true love wasn’t enough to nail his feet to the ground, so you’re out of luck there.” Susano’o straightened, putting him directly in their sister’s path.

“Move.” The hissed order was accompanied by a flare of gold from her eyes. “Today of all days, brother, I have no patience for your mockery.”

“He’s loyal to his family.” His smile gentled, becoming almost sympathetic, and he stepped aside. As they passed each other, he reached out, and brushed his hand against her stomach. “Give him one.”

She froze in mid-step. Tsukuyomi deeply wished he could see her face as the suggestion penetrated. Her voice was expressionless as she finally answered, “I gave my word.”

“He asked you for it? He’s a ballsy guy. Still,” and he paused next to Tsukuyomi and glanced at her ramrod-straight back, “all’s fair in love and war.”

A heartbeat, and then one more, and she disappeared in a flash of brilliant light, without even attempting to flee by foot.

“It would be both, eventually,” Tsukuyomi murmured. “Must you always stir the waves?”

“They could be bluffing,” the storm god pointed out. “He’s just one demigod. It took them three years to even notice he was gone.”

“They fought each other for a decade over an apple.”

Susano’o shrugged, conceding the point. As Tsukuyomi turned away from him, though, he said quietly, “He brings you together. We’ll fight if you need us to.”

His younger brother disappeared before he could respond to the rare gesture of affection.

Tsukuyomi sighed and went to his own quarters across the hall, next to Amaterasu’s- and how many centuries had it been since he and his wife shared a palace? He removed his decorative armor by hand, taking comfort in the familiar ritual, and then returned to Percy’s room rather than retire to his own futon. He stood by the bed, looking down at the enigma they had allowed into their bed and lives.

He had been intrigued by the exotic demigod who had asked only to be given the freedom of their territory, and who appeared to consider rewriting the ending of the greatest tragedy of their court to be a fair price. The young man would be joining the sea dragons when Ryujin had his way, and so Amaterasu had made it clear that both the usual guidelines concerning mortal demigods and her own dislike of the West did not apply. Percy had preferred the independence of his ship to the offered guest quarters in the Palace of the Sun, but had been invited to the court activities and chose to split his time between the mortal islands, Ryujin’s realm, and the Plains of Heaven.

Three weeks had been long enough to determine that his experience hunting the monsters of the West stood him in good stead with their mononoke; that he was no more talented on the Japanese bow than he was with his native style of archery; that he could out-sail even their water gods; and that he fled from poetry competitions even after being assured that they would not expect a foreigner to participate.

It had also been long enough for Tsukuyomi to be sure that the mortal’s gaze held an appreciation that would not be present if Percy adhered solely to the fairer sex, and he had offered to introduce Percy to the spirits of the lakes around Mt. Fiji. It had been an enjoyable day, but the suggestion that they retire to one of the local hot springs resorts for the night had resulted only in a stammered rejection and the distinct impression that the black winged horse was laughing at him.

“Um, thanks, and… I’m flattered, really, but. Well. You’re married, and I’m not going to help anyone cheat on anyone, and it would be awkward. Really, really awkward, ‘cause… never mind.”

The woods had had ears; he blamed Inari. But the result of the gossip had been a peace offering from his estranged wife that he had not dared hope for even after Uke Mochi’s resurrection, for Amaterasu could hold a grudge like no other. She had sought him out and they had had their first civil conversation since that fatal feast, and the man who had rejected them both for the sake of the other had cheerfully accepted them together.

His only condition had been that no child would result from the relationship, on Amaterasu’s word of honor. It was clear, in hindsight, that it had not been the first time he had demanded concessions from gods.

“I will have his company in the nights, and you the days. Do you agree, husband?”

“As you wish, sister.”

Percy had surged past those restrictions without ever noticing they existed two days later, when Tsukuyomi had accepted an invitation to spend the day on the Firefly and Percy had barged into the weaving-room to include Amaterasu in their plans. Whether it had been Percy’s crooked grin or Tsukuyomi’s silent challenge that led her to accept, he doubted even she knew, but she had agreed in the sight of all her attendants. Later, after Tsukuyomi had allowed himself to be piled into the too-small hammock and Percy had offered her a hand to join them, she had placed hers in his, and let herself be pulled across both their laps.

Tsukuyomi had long since forgotten how to reach out and Amaterasu had never learned, but Percy had bridged the gap between them without trying, or ever even acknowledging that it still was present. Perhaps it was the cultural differences; the occasional bouts of icy politeness that would have had any member of their pantheon retreating in terror, he had not appeared to consider any more significant than their customary formality. But it was easy, so easy, to imagine the scene he had described - Percy in front of that arc of thrones, demanding that the greatest gods of his civilization become better people. He had done the same to the two of them, simply by assuming they had already become better than they were.

‘Spring turns to summer

The sun draws from barren ground

A purple iris.’

Three months had passed, and the poetry of the court took on certain inevitable themes- day and night coming together at dusk, flowers blooming in the rain after a long drought, and one particularly memorable contribution from Susano’o concerning western sausages. Then Percy had sailed to China and they let him leave, for Ryujin had intended to have the approval of all three courts stamped on the treaty proposal he gave to the Western sea god. Rather than allow the dalliance to fade as Percy had clearly expected, though, they had dropped by the ship, singly and together, in the quiet days sailing along the coast between destinations and when he was not being hounded by Guan Gong.

He had faced Chi You with the wry humor that befit a mortal capable of defeating Ravana, and they had not considered that he might have offered to aid the Hindu gods with the same poise; they had not wondered what other forges had tempered the new sword in their hand until today, when they saw the growing fury in the eyes of the Olympians as they understood that the hero who had once been their prophesized savior had gladly left them behind.

“What more do they wish of you, Percy? What else are you to them, that they would threaten war so easily?” He sat on the bed next to Percy, drawing him into his arms and staring out towards the still-open door to the garden, where the sky showed that his wife had begun her daily journey.

It took no divination to see the paths that stretched before them now. In the first, Percy would waken in a few hours with only vague memories of the conversation before dawn. The court would continue with his birthday celebration as planned, save only for Ryujin’s gift of godhood. Percy would sail away as he had intended, and they would let him go gracefully and without saying a word. His genuine ignorance would hopefully protect him from the slighted Olympians, who would then shorten his leash but do nothing worse. And he and his wife would be left without the sarcastic, irreverent Greek who had somehow become the central strand of the braid that wove them together.

In the second, Amaterasu followed their brother’s suggestion. Percy recognized the flaws of his divine family even as he defended them, and had at every step of their relationship done his best to ensure that he did not repeat their errors. When Amaterasu made the child immortal and kept it with her, he would applaud her choice and refuse to allow his son or daughter grow up without their father as Poseidon had done with him. The infant would tie him to them as his love for them did not, and the steady compass of his loyalty would flip from West to East. If his family was willing to declare war to see him returned, Percy would accept Ryujin’s offer- not to form a bloodless peace between the oceans, as the dragon lord had planned, but to defend the border against the invaders who wished to separate him from his child. He would make a magnificent god.

The Chinese gods would stand with them. The memories of the Sino-Japanese wars were recent enough for the Jade Emperor to have little affection for their pantheon, but Guan Gong was well respected and the defeat of Chi You had gained Percy support among the Heavenly Bureaucracy. More, the high-handed way the Olympians had demanded the return of a demigod their courts had decided to keep would rankle.

The Hindu pantheon would stand with them. Percy had made friends on his way around the subcontinent, and the Hindu and Shinto deities had worked together to throw off the creeping influence of the West after the second World War; Vishnu and Shiva would remember. The Persians, the tribal gods of lower Africa, and the pantheons of the rest of Asia and Polynesia would join them for the same reason- a war over a single demigod would be seen as just an excuse for one more Olympian power-grab.

The near-forgotten gods of Egypt had recently stirred against an internal problem, and then retreated from the world once more. The ancient gods of Mesopotamia were just as lethargic. Both pantheons had fallen so far that human societies had been able to keep them contained for millennia; they could be discounted.

It would become a third World War, and the last one had cost them dearly. Honor, reason, and the good of their people said they should choose the first path.

Laughing green eyes, an outstretched hand, and a thousand stolen hours on a ship soaring through the waves demanded the second.

Gods were, at the core, very selfish creatures.

“Stay with us, Percy.” The man in his arms stirred slightly at the promise whispered into his ear. “Only choose to stay, and we will burn the world to keep you.”

SotWS_SotWS_SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS_ SotWS_

Notes:

In case it wasn’t clear, Percy was stoned on Mist, to greater and lesser degrees, through most of his conversation with the two gods. He would otherwise have noticed that they weren’t exactly talking about the Olympian offer any more, and would have eventually wondered why they were suddenly so interested when they really hadn’t cared about his past before.

Also, he knows they love him. He loves them too; they’ve been in a relationship for more than a year. But Poseidon loved Sally. They’re married and immortal, and he’s the mortal son of a foreign god. He knows they love him, but he doesn’t know they’d thought they could keep him. On their side, although they do love him, it’s also that they are both extremely proud, and their marriage was shattered. No one is sure their relationship can function anymore without Percy as a buffer, and it didn’t occur to Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi that they might have to find out. (Please note that I am in no way saying this is healthy.) Avoiding his family’s mistakes only means Percy’s made brand new ones.

 

Sidi Chamarouch- I wasn’t able to find much information on the original gods of the North African Berber tribes, and what little there was talked about how they had been syncretized with Greek, Roman, Egyptian, or Carthaginian gods. In-story, most of them faded long ago. Sidi Chamarouch is a mountain spirit believed to be the king of the djinn in the local folklore of the High Atlas Mountains, and is a relatively benevolent figure that is called on to help exorcise evil spirits. He has a shrine in the village named after him.

In Islamic mythology, djinn are to fire what humans are to clay. In terms of power level, Percy was right to be wary; Chamarouch is roughly on par with Achelous, and Percy was on top of a mountain rather than near the ocean. Djinn are very long-lived but not immortal, have their own societies and rulers, are not bound to any object unless a human sorcerer has trapped them to one, and have free will. Many of them are Muslim. Rather than ignore that part of the mythology, I tried to come up with a possible reason why a species that knew that little-g gods existed might pray to the ‘metaphysical’ God of the Abrahamic religions.

Iles Purpuraires- A group of small islands offshore of the city of Essaouira, and conveniently at roughly the same latitude as the tallest mountain in the Maghreb. The islands were settled by the Phoenicians and eventually the Romans, who made purple dye from the local snails. Mogador, the largest island, is a protected falcon sanctuary and Percy was illegally trespassing.

The Koschei: Koschei the Deathless, a Russian sorcerer who does pretty much what Percy summarized. His life/heart/soul is hidden in an egg, inside a duck, inside a hare, inside of a locked chest at the top of (or under the roots of) a tall tree on a hidden island. He is killed by a Russian prince who is kind to various animals that return the favor by helping him catch the soul containers.

General Douglas MacArthur: The Allied supreme commander of the Southwest Pacific arena, and the man who accepted Japan’s surrender in WWII. His father was a Lt. General and had been awarded a Medal of Honor, the highest military honor in the United States; Arthur and Douglas MacArthur were the first parent-child pair (of only two) to have both gotten that award. MacArthur Jr. is a polarizing figure, and I was strongly tempted to make him a son of Ares because he advocated nuking China during his command in the Korean Wear, but given his family history I decided to hook MacArthur Sr. up with Athena.

Ame-no-Uzume: The plump, good-natured goddess of laughter and the one who did the striptease that brought Amaterasu out of her cave and the sun back to the world (see the notes for chapter 1). She apparently became the goddess of the dawn because of it, and my headcannon has her waking Amaterasu up every day. And, yes, Amaterasu got tired of the ‘rise and shine’ joke about a dozen centuries ago.

Inari: A god/goddess of rice (and sake), agriculture, industry, prosperity, and fertility; his/her sacred animal is the fox, and the Japanese fox spirits, kitsune, have a similar relationship to Inari as the satyrs do to Dionysus. His/her gender depends pretty much on the legend and the region of worship; in-story I’m interpreting this to mean that s/he takes the ‘deities look like what they want to’ thing to the logical extreme. In some versions of Uke Mochi’s legend, Inari was Uke Mochi’s husband and took over her job after Tsukuyomi killed her, which is why s/he’s got the agricultural deity gig. And, in-story, a major grudge against Tsukuyomi.

‘A purple iris’: According to Wikipedia’s Hanakotoba page, an iris represents good news and glad tidings in the Japanese language of flowers.

Gods of Egypt and Mesopotamia: The ‘human societies’ is a deliberate reference to the Kane Chronicles; I’m going with the idea that there’s something similar happening with the gods of ancient Mesopotamia (old Persia, current-day Iraq).

 

Chapter Text

Author’s Notes:  It has been a long time, and I’m sorry to anyone who was following this before I stopped writing.  This is the product of a New Year’s Resolution that I’m trying hard to keep, so I should be able to get a chapter out every few months although I don’t have much time to write anymore.  Riordan has also kept writing, and I’ve had to pick and choose how much of the new events and cosmology to use.  The Magnus Chase books happened on schedule in the other Nine Worlds without Percy getting involved at the beginning of Ship of the Dead, the Trials of Apollo haven’t happened because the Emperors don’t want to wake Gaia up either, and I’m still figuring out what I’m going to do with the remaining short stories in Demigods and Magicians. 

---

 

Late November, two years after the second Olympian War.

The naiads of Spain had duck feet.

No, seriously.  They were beautiful women, wearing flowing dresses rather than the jeans and t-shirts most of the naiads back in America liked, with bright yellow webbed feet.  The group in the lake in front of us hadn’t noticed the three of us yet; most of them were playing underwater volleyball with one watching on the rocks near the shore.

“I’m going to go say hi,” I said, leaving Blackjack to graze on the shoreline of Sanabria Lake, the largest freshwater lake in Spain.  Mrs. O’Leary was stalking a butterfly behind him.  When I got to the water’s edge, an out-of-bounds ball bounced up onto the shore, and I scooped it up. 

The naiad on the rocks turned to look for the ball, saw us, and then yelped and dove into the water like she was being chased by the hounds of hell.  This was a bit of an over-reaction, since Mrs. O’Leary was nowhere near her.

“Um,” I called, tossing the ball back into the water, “sorry?  The dog is harmless, I swear.”         

I waited for a bit, feeling stupider by the second, but eventually one of the team captains warily surfaced to grab the ball. 

“You’ll find no game here, Hunter,” she called out.  “Leave these shores in peace.”

I blinked, surprised.  Not Greek spirits, then. 

“That’s… mostly a technicality.  And how can you tell?  Do we smell?”  I didn’t want to smell like Wild Hunt.  It sounded like a bad cologne brand.

She looked from Blackjack to Mrs. O’Leary and back to me.  Even at a distance I could see the look of profound skepticism, like I’d tried to sell her a six-foot bed and promised her she’d fit perfectly.

“So you just happen to be wandering about with horse and hound?  There are no ‘technical’ members of the Wild Hunt.”

“Come on, he’s a pegasus, do we look local?  I’m a demigod from America.”  I pulled up a ball of water, the same size as hers, and spiked it to her.  It bounced twice before coming up to rest on the water’s surface.  (OK, I’d been hoping for an invitation when I came up to the water.  Sue me.  It looked like fun, and I hadn’t ever played a sport when the rest of the team didn’t need to breathe air.)  “We got pulled into a Hunt in Ireland, that’s all.  It didn’t seem smart to say no.”

“You’re… a son of Neptune?”  She picked up the waterball hesitantly, then, at a normal volume so I almost couldn’t hear her, said “They made a son of Neptune a Hunter?”

I paused, and then decided against it.  I should probably just get used to that name for my dad while I was west of Italy.

“It was supposed to be a one-time thing, I think,” or at least that was the impression I’d gotten from Manannan, “but then a big pig happened, and after it was dead they’d decided we’d joined up.  There were prophecies involved.  It was a weird night.”

I didn’t think I’d completely managed to convince her, but she dropped the ball and swam closer so we wouldn’t be almost shouting at each other.  I waded out a bit to meet her halfway.

“Then what brings you here, demigod, and why bring a hellhound with you?”

“I’m taking her for a walk,” I said cheerfully.  “Her name is Mrs. O’Leary.  The pegasus is Blackjack, and I’m Percy Jackson.”

“You’re taking your hellhound out for a walk,” she repeated, raising her eyebrows.

“Sure, I can’t keep her cooped up on the ship all the time.  I try to exercise her at least once a day.”  I kept smiling.  “So, since I’m just a wandering demigod, barely part of the Wild Hunt-”

“That’s not actually any better, I’ve known too many demigods,” she said, but I was pretty sure she was trying not to smile back at me.

“-and you’ve got an uneven number of people, can I play?  It would mean no-one would have to sit out.”

She laughed out loud.  “You’ve got some nerve, Percy Jackson.  I’ll ask.”

It took a bit of discussion, but eventually the not-a-naiad waved me in, and I spent the rest of the afternoon under Sanabria Lake.  Eventually, I got hungry enough to say good-bye and surface for dinner.  Blackjack left his patch of grass and wandered back over at my wave, and I summarized the original conversation for him.

Do you get the feeling we’ve joined a biker gang, boss? Blackjack asked as I jumped onto his back.  I let Mrs. O’Leary head back into the forest instead of sending her back before us.  She’d be fine there until we got back to the ship.

“A bit, yeah.”

What are we doing for the Winter Solstice?  He started cantering for momentum, and then spread his wings to get us into the air.

“I think we should just get out of Europe entirely.  Spend a couple of weeks at home.”  One Hunt a year was more than enough.  I thought for a bit.  “I don’t think we’ll have a problem in Italy.  If we don’t spend too long in France, we can anchor near Rome and head to New York on the eighteenth or nineteenth, and come back after New Years’ Day.”

Sounds good.  Are there any old French holidays we’ll need to avoid?

“… I’ll look it up when we get back to the ship.”  I facepalmed.  I probably should have done that already.  The Salmon’s little lecture had been annoying, but he wasn’t wrong.  And I wasn’t the one who could get hurt if I missed something obvious.  Even Mrs. O’Leary could be hurt if the monster was big enough.

My stomach rumbled, and Blackjack snorted and said, After dinner?

“After dinner,” I agreed.  “I’m thinking a ham sandwich.”

Again?  You’ve got anger issues, boss.

“You’re just jealous you can’t eat meat.”  Plus, the local cured ham was delicious. 

You’re damn right I am.

 

---

 

At the end of November, I pulled into Port Vell, in Barcelona.  After renting a slip from one of the local yacht clubs for a few nights and answering the usual sailing-enthusiast questions about the Firefly, I asked about the three-masted schooner farther up in the port.

“She’s the Saint Eulalia, with the Maritime Museum,” the marina official told me.  “It’s free for entry tomorrow, if you’re interested.”

I thanked her, and did wind up going the next day.  The museum was in the old Royal Shipyard, and I got some good pictures of the old buildings.  Most of the permanent exhibits were full-scale models of sailing ships from the last five centuries, including a modern replica of a sixteenth-century Spanish galley.  They hadn’t ever sailed, but they were the right shape and for each of them I had the same bone-deep knowledge of their structure that I had for the Firefly, telling me what I would need to do to each of these ships for them to be seaworthy.

 As I absently inspected the old navigational equipment, following the audio guide and mostly ignoring the written information, the ship sails that had never actually been used for their intended purpose ruffled in a nonexistent breeze.  Ropes twitched. The demonstration oars in the galley shifted slightly and locked into position.  A single cannon, bolted to the ground as a separate exhibit, rocked slightly, until I remembered where I was and stopped fidgeting.

This was the first time that had happened on land, although as the trip went on and I docked at each new port I had to put more effort into ignoring the other ships in the marina.  If it used sails or rows, it was naturally a part of me.

 I didn’t have quite as much control over anything that relied on a motor.  I had that same awareness, but not the control.   For the mechanical stuff, I was happy to bug Leo or Nyssa.  Engines weren’t really my thing.

Sometimes, though, I felt like that was just a matter of working a muscle I’d never tried using.  Since I was pretty sure that would mean actually sitting down and learning about outboard motors the hard way, I was fine just sailing the way that came naturally.

At Annabeth’s suggestion, I also got pictures of a park designed by the architect Gaudi and flew up to Bilbao to get some aerial footage of the Guggenheim Art Museum, but aside from a couple of casual flights we just relaxed and resupplied over the next couple of days, getting ready to leave Spain and follow the coast up to France.

 

---

 

A few hours out of Barcelona, I was in the bottom hold organizing the supplies when Blackjack yelled, Boss!  Get up here!  There’s a ship coming! 

I focused on any ships around us, and dropped the crate as the information hit me.  Trireme, 120 feet long, currently carrying...

Currently carrying a compliment of weird fish-men rowing the ship at us at ramming speed. 

“I’ve got it,” I yelled to Blackjack as I climbed out of the bilge.

I angled us away from the oncoming ship.  If she missed us on her first charge, we would lose her.  The Firefly could out-sail any ship on the water.  At my command, the water around the oars thickened, and the trireme stalled in place.

Then, she popped free, propelled by the water behind her like a cork from a bottle.

Boss!  Blackjack sounded panicked now.  I broke into a run and had just reached the ladder to the top deck when the ship crashed full-on into our side and the crew started swarming onto my deck.

I fell off the ladder from the impact as Mrs. O’Leary started barking and Blackjack jumped into the air.  Smart- he was a trained war-pegasus, but if he was surrounded by men with swords he’d only be able to go down fighting. 

He didn’t get more than a few feet up.  They had javelins.  Two hit Blackjack’s wings, the third hit his chest.  He fell back to the deck with a scream, and then I’d finally made it onto the deck and hit the attackers around him like a tank.

I killed two of them before they even knew I was there.  The other five had no chance even when they turned to fight me.  When the last of the immediate threats were dead, I took a second to glance at the wounds.  They were nasty, and he wouldn’t be flying soon, but they wouldn’t kill him quickly. 

Go, boss.  I’ll live, Blackjack snapped.

On the bow of the ship, Mrs. O’Leary was attacking the dolphin-men still swarming off of the trireme.  Daedalus had raised her to be friendly, but she was still a hellhound.  Most of the attackers she met dove off the sides rather than face her teeth, and their swords and nets couldn’t do much more than irritate her.  Her jumping around was more of a danger to the ship than any of the dolphin-men were, though.  I could turn the Firefly back over if she capsized, and it was an option if things went really wrong, but with Blackjack injured it was the last resort.  I whistled, and she whirled and bounded back to the empty space I’d cleared in the stern of the ship.

“Guard,” I ordered, pointing at Blackjack, and she obediently stood over him while I charged the dolphin-men.  There were about twenty-five still left on the ship, with maybe another hundred either in the water and swimming back to the trireme, or still getting up from the three banks of oars that had propelled the trireme’s bronze-covered bow into my ship.

I’d beaten worse odds.

I carved my way through another four attackers before I met one that fought back.  He was dressed in full gold-colored Greek armor and a golden gorgon’s mask, and didn’t have any of the visible deformities of the rest of the trireme’s crew.

 I attacked with a low strike.  He blocked with his own golden sword, stepped in, twisted, and Riptide went flying while his sword came directly at my throat.

I staggered back, choking. 

Less than three seconds, and I’d been disarmed and taken a fatal blow.

“Huh,” the man (the captain?) said.  His crew gathered behind him and dragged the wounded they could reach out of the way.   “So this is the Mark of Achilles.  I have only heard the legends.  A pleasure to meet you, Percy Jackson.”

I straightened, rubbing my throat.  Riptide was out of reach, but if he was willing to talk… “Who are you?  How do you know who I am?”

“Chrysaor, son of Poseidon, at your service,” the man said with a mocking bow.  His voice was rich and velvety, with a vaguely middle-eastern accent.  “A mutual acquaintance wishes me to deliver a message.  ‘Enjoy Elysium’.”

I drew a blank for a minute, then the memory hit.  Hercules.  “That son of a-”

“He rather is, isn’t he?” Chrysaor agreed cheerfully.

“So you’re… what?  His errand boy or something?” I asked.

“Or something,” Chrysaor said.  “He killed my son once, you see.  We’ve never really gotten along.  But Hercules has guarded the exit to this ocean for most of my life.  I did not care when Olympus lay on the Mediterranean, but the West expanded across the oceans centuries ago, and we have been left behind, bottled up in the same waters we have been sailing for thousands of years.”

His men chittered behind him.  This was clearly a long-standing grievance.

“They made another exit, you know,” I said.  “The Suez Canal, ever heard of it?” 

He snorted.  “Wrong direction.  Those waters are not friendly to any child of our father.”

“So, what, you get rid of me and you sail free?” I guessed.  “I hope you got that on the Styx.”

“Oh, nothing so attention-getting,” he said.  “If word of this little deal gets out… well, Poseidon holds grudges.  He would forgive me, in time.  He has lost many sons over the centuries.  Hercules, however…”

My sword finally came back to my pocket, and I drew it and attacked in one movement.  Chrysaor laughed and met the blow, and the fight started in earnest.

I wasn’t disarmed.  That’s about the most I could say for the fight, and it was more because he didn’t try again than because of any skill on my part.  I hadn’t been this outmatched since I’d fought Ares when I was twelve, and Chrysaor wasn’t holding back or underestimating me at all.

I could probably hit harder than him, but it didn’t matter if I couldn’t touch him, and even with the Mark of Achilles, he was better.  I was a good swordsman and the most powerful demigod Camp Half-Blood had seen in centuries, but I’d only been training for six years.  Chrysaor had three thousand.

He hit me a dozen times in the first three minutes.  Chest, stomach, sides, armpits, back of the neck, and a few very unsportsmanlike places.

“I’m going to actually have to tie you down and stab every part of your body, aren’t I?” Chrysaor finally said contemplatively, stepping back.  I was panting and drenched in sweat.  He wasn’t even breathing hard.  I reached out to the water, but the wave I summoned died before it formed. 

“None of that, brother.  I’ve sailed these waters far longer than you have.”

Boss, you don’t have to fight him!  Just tell the dog to shadow-walk us out of here, Blackjack called.  I turned sideways and glanced back without fully letting Chrysaor out of my sight.  He was on his knees, with the javelin still in his chest muscle.

“Target the animals,” Chrysaor snapped, and the chittering crew immediately threw a dozen javelins over our heads.  I jumped, grabbed the rope that reached out for me, and swept as many off-course as I could; the rest hit Mrs. O’Leary without too much effect.  When they’d run out and I landed, though, Chrysaor attacked again, driving me away from Mrs. O’Leary and towards the ship railing. 

...son of Poseidon.  Right, Blackjack said sheepishly.

“My brother was Pegasus, nephew.  I hardly need my father’s blood to understand you.  Springing together from our mother’s was enough,” he said.

Pegasus had a brother?  Blackjack sounded surprised.  I was now remembering a small pair of human-shaped handprints in that cave, next to the foal’s hoof prints.  I was glad I hadn’t been the only one to not make that connection.

“That tends to get left out of the legends,” Chrysaor said sourly.  “When your brother is Pegasus, you get used to being forgotten.”

“Wait,” I said, finally placing the accent as one I’d heard six years ago, in New Jersey, “your mom was Medusa?  That sucks.”

“Yes, it’s quite tragic.  Trapped in one sea, with my mother across the ocean, but… well, we could IM.  Until you killed her, of course.”

“It’s not like she’s not coming back,” I protested automatically, trying to think through my options.  The crew would kill Blackjack if Mrs. O’Leary attacked Chrysaor, I couldn’t beat him alone, and I couldn’t control the water… but could control the ship.  That rope had responded to me automatically, and it didn’t look like he’d noticed.  He hadn’t thought to block that power, even on the trireme he captained.  I could feel both ships.

“She resurrected once, yes.  After a few centuries in Tartarus.”  Chrysaor turned slightly to take a weighted fishing net from a member of his crew using a trident-net combo.  “So did my son, after Heracles killed him.  He settled down, and turned a two-bit cattle ranch into a successful business.  His name was Geryon.”

I really wasn’t going to win any points with this guy, was I?  Around the Firefly, the chains keeping eight guns in place released.    “Get off my ship, or you’ll get to say hi to them sooner than you want to.”

“Bold words, Percy Jackson.  The Mark means nothing if you cannot back it up.”  Behind him, the guns turned around.

“Uh, Captain-” one of the sailors started to say.

“See you in Tartarus, Chrysaor,” I said, keeping his attention on me.  He snorted and came at me with the net, trying to tangle up my legs.

“Captain, look out!”

The guns fired. 

Two shots hit Chrysaor dead-on and spattered, catching him and his net on fire.  The other six went into the massed dolphin-men.

Chrysaor screamed.

He tried to drop and roll, tearing his mask and armor off.  He was still screaming.

He kept on rolling, still on fire, throwing bits and gobs of green flame that landed on the deck and sails and died out without any effect.

I couldn’t make myself move, and just watched in horror.

Chrysaor, so covered in fire that I couldn’t see what his face looked like, tried to go over the side, still screaming through a throat that was almost gone.

This was Greek Fire.  The water wouldn’t help. 

A rope he dove over tangled him up and dragged him back.  I was still holding Riptide.  It had been less than a minute.

I made him stop screaming.

As the body of my father’s son disappeared from the edge of my sword, I got a few seconds of pure, blessed silence before my adrenaline-focused senses started going back to normal and I had to pay attention to the rest of the ship.  The dolphin-men had taken most of the cannon shots, but there were a lot more of them and the ones that had been hit had either managed to get their armor off or were already dead from being burned or trampled.

They were panicking, diving over the sides or running back to their ship.  The ropes on the Firefly snaked out to grab the ones that were left.  On the trireme, the dolphin-men’s lines started doing the same.  The oars a few of the brightest sailors had managed to reach unlocked themselves and shoved back, pushing them off their benches with bone-breaking force.

“No,” one of the ones that had made it to their deck whimpered in Ancient Greek dolphin-speak, “no, no, not again, I’m not doing this again-”

“Abandon ship!” another yelled as he jumped off of the trireme.  All of the crewmen that could still move followed him off and started swimming at a respectable pace away from the ship.  I stopped paying attention to the water around us and walked over to the closest pirate.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean anything by it, sorry,” he was chittering as he struggled against the rope dangling him from the mast.  Behind his back, out of my line of sight, he was sawing at it with a rigging knife.  I focused slightly, and the rope stopped fraying under the edge, and then knitted back together.

I knew who these guys were.  When I’d met Mr. D, he’d threatened to turn me into a dolphin before we’d gotten through the camp introduction.  It looked like all he’d managed to do was create a new species of monster.  The deck was covered in the dust of their dead crewmates, and I couldn’t be the first person they’d met who’d fought back.  They’d just climbed out of Tartarus and become pirates again.

I had nearly twenty helpless prisoners, and it sickened me a little to know that the biggest thing stopping me from killing them was the fact that it wouldn’t make any difference in the long run. 

I could have done without knowing that about myself.

The pirate met my eyes.  Whatever he saw in them made him close his snout instantly.

I was very tired.

“If you keep attacking people, you’ll always bite off more than you can chew eventually,” I finally said.

He started nodding frantically.  “Yes, yes, I’ve learned my lesson this time, I’ll be good-”

“You won’t ever step on a ship again,” I said.  My words echoed on the decks and through the depths of the ocean.  “None of your crew will.”

He hesitated, then said “I’ll swear, on the Styx itself I’ll swear-”

“Don’t bother.”  I turned away from him, almost in a trance.  “It won’t change anything.”

He went pale.  Well, paler.  “None of us?  Never?”

“Never.  Good-bye.”

The rope twisted and flung him over the sides.  With another thought, the rest of my captives on both ships followed him and they all began swimming away.

I stood, surrounded by dropped weapons and armor, and breathed.

I could still smell Chrysaor burning.

Boss?  Blackjack came forward and nudged my arm with his nose.  Are you OK?

Blackjack was hurt, and I was just standing here.  I opened my eyes, and saw the golden mask.  It had stopped burning as soon as he’d taken it off, and was only slightly warped by the heat. 

Spoils of war.

I bent over the side of the ship and started throwing up.

 

---

 

After I’d become reacquainted with my breakfast, I went below deck and grabbed my medical supplies.  I was no child of Apollo, but I had more experience treating pegasi than most of the demigods at Camp Half-Blood, since I tended to be hauled in to translate whenever there wasn’t a satyr handy.  The winged horses had divine blood, but their relationship with Poseidon was far back enough that they couldn’t use as much nectar or ambrosia as a demigod even with the weight difference.  

“You’ll need to stay out of the air for a few days, and eat a bit of ambrosia each day,” I said as I bandaged his wings, “and these will probably scar.”

Scars can be hot, Blackjack said, munching on a quarter of a square of ambrosia.  The deepest cut, the one in his chest muscle, was getting shallower as I watched.  It wouldn’t be life-threatening, and he’d probably have been fine eventually even without the ambrosia, but he’d have been out of the air for weeks. 

None of Mrs. O’Leary’s wounds were more than scratches, but I taped a few bandages on the deepest of them before turning to cleaning up the deck.  Camp Half-Blood always needed Celestial Bronze and I had enough space, so I decided to keep the discarded weapons and armor, even Chrysaor’s.   His sword and some of the other weapons were made of a golden metal I hadn’t seen before, but which had the same soft glow as Celestial Bronze and the Tuatha de Daanan’s Blessed Iron weapons. 

After smoothing over the splinters in the Firefly’s hull where Chrysaor’s trireme hit, I went over to the trireme, finally started paying attention to the ship’s cargo, and sprinted to the locked hold of the lower deck.  The locks clicked open when I pushed, and I stepped into Chrysaor’s treasure room.

I’d sold enough of the Firefly’s original cargo myself to have a decent idea of the market value of precious metals, and there were millions of dollars here in gold and silver alone.  I couldn’t even begin guess how much the gems or art were worth.  I fell to my knees next to a stack of solid gold bars and slowly picked one up.

I’d always known that this trip couldn’t last forever.  Before I left home, Mom had made me put enough money aside to pay for tuition at an in-state university.  What was left over after repairing the Firefly and saving for college was enough for a few years of travelling if I didn’t go crazy.  After that, I’d need to either head back to New York and go to college, or start making a living sailing like Annabeth had suggested once. 

Now?  That was no longer a problem.  If I didn’t want to, I would never need to settle down.  I could spend the rest of my life on the water, going anywhere I wanted. 

I was free.

 

---

 

I spent the rest of the day moving the treasure and all of their supplies I wanted to keep into my now-stuffed bottom hold.  My small laundry room had been returned to its original function as the ship’s magazine and armory, and held my entire supply of Greek Fire and all of the weapons I’d collected this trip.  It looked like I’d need them.

I’d probably gotten a bit arrogant.  We’d been at peace for years, or as much at peace as a demigod’s life ever got.  I’d spent the time since the gods went quiet as Camp Half-Blood’s final answer to any problem.  I was invulnerable, and everyone knew it.  If my sword wasn’t enough, my control over the seas or storms or earthquakes or volcanoes had been able to make up the difference. 

Over the last two years, I’d been able to let go of the quiet terror that eventually, it wouldn’t be.

I knew there were plenty of things out there that could easily kill me, of course.  Thinking I was the strongest guy around was basically asking for a smiting.  Hubris never ended well.  But Chrysaor was no god, just a much older son of Poseidon.  He probably wasn’t even the worst monster in the Mediterranean; these seas were notorious for a reason.  And without the guns Leo had modified for me, I’d be dead right now. 

It wouldn’t be easy, without a regular sparring partner, but I needed to get better.  Going back to my regular sword-drills when I got up in the morning would be a start.

 The sun was setting as I finished reloading the empty slots in the revolving mechanisms and stood to look at the trireme keeping pace on my starboard side.  I was tempted, but I couldn’t keep her.  The Firefly got a fair amount of attention in any port, but most people assumed my clipper was a very authentic replica.  The trireme would get a lot more questions, and I’d probably need to keep her under a veil of Mist whenever I was near humans.  I didn’t need the extra space that badly. 

“Go,” I said to her.  “Find somewhere you’ll be valued for the beauty you are.”

Chrysaor was a pirate, but he’d kept a tight ship, and clearly treasured her.  This ship was ancient, but wasn’t showing any of the wear.

The trireme turned more directly west, self-powered oars dipping into the water in unison, and veered away from us. 

Where’s it going? Blackjack asked as he munched on dinner.

“I don’t know.  Somewhere that needs her,” I said.  Months later, I would see a tour leaflet for a naval museum in Greece, advertising harbor trips on their fully functional trireme, and smile.

 

---

---

 

August 18^th, evening, Japan Standard Time.  Five years after the end of the Second Olympian War.

In the garden of the Palace of the Sun, a goddess watched herself set.  Her old friend approached from behind.

“My lady,” Uke Mochi said quietly, “Ryujin has arrived.”

Amaterasu remained silent.  To the west, the last rays of light disappeared.  

“My lady,” Uke Mochi said, in the same tone, “do we go to war?”

Amaterasu clenched the fabric of her kimono above her stomach for a long moment, and did not answer.  Then, she opened her hand, and let it fall to her side.

“We do not.”  Her voice was calm, giving nothing away.  “You may inform the ocean lord.”

Uke Mochi bowed and withdrew.  To the east, her husband began his nightly journey.

 

---

 

“- like spoiled children, demanding a toy just because they realized someone else desired it-”

“Percy.” Inari cut Uke Mochi off as I opened the sliding door from the veranda.   “We were looking for you.”

I paused at the garden entrance, looking them over.  There had been a lot of conversations that had stopped as soon as I showed up this week.  Uke Mochi had pasted on a smile as soon as she saw me.  Inari, a woman today, was keeping a concerned eye on her wife. 

I belatedly bowed to the goddesses, and asked, “Is everything all right?”  

“The final play will start soon, and Ryujin has requested that you join him,” Uke Mochi said, sidestepping the question.  “And we have not given you your birthday presents yet.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything,” I said politely.

Uke Mochi’s smile gentled and became real.  “My dear boy.  If not you, then who?”

She held out her hands, and a platter materialized between them, holding two serving bowls, one large with a cover and one smaller with a spout.  When she lifted the cover of the larger bowl, it was filled with some kind of soup.  “Lift the cover, and it will give any food of Japan you desire.  If you pour Inari’s bowl to the left, it will give you tea.  Pour to the right, and you’ll have sake.  Think of it as something to remember us by on your journey.”

“There’s no chance I’d forget,” I said.  “This is too much.  It can’t have been easy to make, so soon after-”

A sharp yip came from the garden outside.

“Tsukuyomi is on his way,” Inari said quietly, interrupting the formalities.

Uke Mochi’s lips tightened and the dishes disappeared from her hands.

“You will find them in your baggage.  Happy birthday, Percy.”  She turned and went into the large inner performance room through the connecting door behind her.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose.  Awkward. 

“Um.  Thank you.  You didn’t have to.”

“No.  I did not.  My debt to you is now paid,” Inari said gravely, eyes following her wife. 

“What?”  I’d called in the favor more than a year ago, yeah, but I wasn’t sure we were having the same conversation right now.

She blinked, and turned back to me with a slight shake of her head.  “And, perhaps, I have learned to be careful of what I wish for.  In the absence of a debt, Percy, you must simply accept the good intentions of your friends.”

Behind me, the door slid open.

“Lord Tsukuyomi.  Good evening,” Inari said, bowing just barely enough to be polite. 

Tsukuyomi returned the bow, slightly shallower.  “Lady Inari.”

I shifted between them as casually as I could, trying to break the rising tension.  “Tsukuyomi, hey.  Inari said Ryujin was here, and I have really been looking forward to seeing… seeing the play they’re showing tonight.  Shall we?”

He quirked an eyebrow slightly, knowing as well as I did that I’d head back to Yomi gladly if it would get me out of sitting through a formal performance.  Most of the party today had been various races or competitions for exactly that reason. 

“I will find my seat, then,” Inari said.  “Good-bye, Percy.  May you have a safe journey, and someday find what you seek in your travel.”

“Not all those who wander are lost,” I quoted cheerfully.  “We’ll meet again someday, probably.  Good luck until then.”

She bowed again and left the room.

“Stay.  Amaterasu is still in the garden, and they will not start without us,” Tsukuyomi said when I turned to follow her.  He nodded at the sword hanging from my belt.  “You fought well today.”

I grinned at him.  “I had good teachers.”

“Your sheath has become worn, though.  May I?”

I blinked, but unsheathed the Honjo Masamune in a quick motion and gave it to him.  Tsukuyomi held out his left hand and conjured a dark scabbard, with a golden sun on the end-cap and a silver crescent moon holding the golden belt-tie.  The sword slid into place soundlessly.

“Hold still,” he said, reaching out to my head.  I did, and hissed as he plucked a single hair and wrapped it around the scabbard.  I rubbed my head.  That had hurt more than it really should have, like I’d been pierced with a needle.  I’d almost forgotten that particular feeling after five years of oral vaccinations.

Under his hand, my hair flared with silver light and sank into the scabbard. 

“I know it’s probably been too long since I’ve gotten a haircut, but I’m pretty sure that’s new,” I said.

Tsukuyomi didn’t smile.  “It is our gift to you.  While you live, no other will be able to draw your sword from this scabbard, and if you are disarmed, it will sheath itself.   Mortals will ignore the sheathed sword as they do all divine objects.”

He stepped closer and untied the scabbard that had come with the sword.

“Oh.  Thank you, Tsukuyomi, but I…” I was fumbling for words as he tied the new sheath on, and not because of the etiquette surrounding gift-giving here. 

I’d been planning on giving the sword to them tonight.  Amaterasu hadn’t let me, the first time I’d tried, but… well, things were different now.  “…Tsukuyomi, the Honjo Masamune is one of your national treasures.”

The sword he’d just tied to me, in more ways than one, was the most famous creation of Japan’s greatest swordsmith, made from Jewel Steel, the local equivalent of Celestial Bronze.  Even among normal humans, Masamune’s blades were famous for not cutting living flesh unnecessarily.  This particular sword, the Honjo Masamune, had belonged to a lot of shoguns.  It had been surrendered to the American army with the rest of the then-owner’s family swords after the end of World War II. 

I tried not to think too hard about how it had gotten into the Yamata-no-Orochi’s stomach from there.

“It is the weapon you won in battle, and needs a wielder.  It should not rust in a museum.”

I fought to keep my face expressionless.  The Honjo Masamune was perfectly balanced, the only sword I’d found since Riptide that actually felt right to use.  Hachiman and Tsukuyomi had kicked me around enough on the training grounds that I’d adjusted to one edge instead of two, two hands instead of one.  I’d used it happily wherever carrying a concealed weapon like Riptide’s pen would be rude.  But once I left their waters, I’d only be taking it out of its sheath to make sure it didn’t rust. 

The Honjo Masamune was an outstanding sword, but it wasn’t the sword I’d grown up with in my hand.

There was no way to say that politely, but I tried to change his mind one last time.  “Demigods don’t always live to an old age.  If you want it used, you can give it to a Japanese hero.  At least then, it wouldn’t be stuck halfway… across…”

I trailed off.  His hand was on my wrist.

“Demigods rarely die of old age, true.”  His voice was quiet.  “The sheath and sword will return to us when you die.  This way, we will know.”

I closed my eyes.  I couldn’t say anything to that but, “Thank you.”

He stepped back, and we followed Inari and Uke-Mochi into the connecting room.  Ryujin had one of the central seats, and I separated from Tsukuyomi to say hi.  Ryujin’s preferred human form was nearly seven feet tall when standing, with cropped black hair greying at the temples and green cat-eyes.  He nodded a greeting when I bowed, and indicated the cushion next to him.  “Join me.  We will talk after the performance.”

By then, Amaterasu had joined Tsukuyomi, and the musicians were starting.  I spent the next couple of hours focusing on not fidgeting too much during the play.  ADHD sucked.  The story was one I’d heard several times already from the participants, about a mythical invasion of an ancient Korean kingdom.  Ryujin had helped the invasion, and this play was more because he was here tonight than because of my birthday.

When it was finally over and people were breaking up into groups, he turned to me and said, “You are departing tomorrow.”

I frowned, a bit confused.  Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu might never see me again.  I hoped I’d sail this way again eventually, but… demigod.  It was a legitimate concern.  Ryujin, though, had a larger range.  “Just for Vietnam.  I’ll be in your seas for a few more months.”

“Of course,” he said absently.  He was still studying me like he’d never seen me before.  “I must admit, the gift you were to receive tonight turned out to be… unsuitable.  I found myself at a loss for what to give you.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” I said, shrugging.  Birthdays weren’t a huge deal to immortals.  (Unless there were world-ending prophecies involved, of course.)  Last year, I’d spent it in New York and done a night out when I’d gotten back.  This year had been big, but that was mostly because it was a good-bye party.

“I believe I have divined an appropriate gift, nevertheless,” he said.  He raised his hand, palm up.  A sea breeze whispered through the hall, drawing the attention of the celestial kami that hadn’t already been keeping an eye on our conversation.  (Tsukuyomi was subtle.  Amaterasu was not.)  Ribbons of seawater twisted and turned around a central point above his palm, then shrank and condensed.  He closed his hand around the ball of water, and then opened it again to show a black pearl the size of a marble.

“Have you seen one of these before, in your travels?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, remembering that first quest to Hades when I was twelve.  It had been a long time.  “’What belongs to the sea, returns to the sea,’ right? I’ve never seen one being made.”

“Indeed.  Keep it with you at all times.”  He reached out and let the pearl fall into my hand.  “Without it, you will die at the hand of one you call family.”

I closed my hand around it reflexively and took a few deep breaths.  Ryujin was a very precise speaker.  ‘Divined’ would be completely literal.  I was tired of prophecies predicting my death.

Finally, I said, “…That may not mean what you think it means.  I’m pretty sure every monster in the West is some sort of distant cousin, and nearly every child of Poseidon I’ve met has tried to kill me.”

“Heed my warning nonetheless,” Ryujin said.  “This is not the method I would have chosen, to repay you for Toyotama’s life, but it is the one I am left with.”

“Thank you, then.  I’ll be careful.”  I pulled apart the braid of my necklace between Mrs. O’Leary’s whistle and the golden rice sheath and wove it around the pearl.  The hair wouldn’t break unless I took it apart, and no knot I tied would ever slip without my permission.  It was as secure as I could make it.

“We will see each other again, Jackson Perseus,” Ryujin said, more solemnly than I really thought was called for.  The gods were being weird tonight.  “I will leave you to say your good-byes.  Happy birthday.”

He walked off, leaving me frowning after him.  I shook my head and went back to Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi.  “What’s up with Ryujin?  He called me Perseus.”

“That is your full name, is it not?” Amaterasu said, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah, but no-one uses it but monsters and Olympians.  I didn’t know he knew it, it’s not like he’s ever looked at my passport.”

Come to think of it, had I ever mentioned it to Amaterasu?

“It may have been passed on.  The oceans have been talking recently,” Amaterasu said carelessly, turning away.  “Are you coming?”

I shook off the mood Ryujin’s prophecy had left me in and followed them to the private area of the palace.  I’d said most of my good-byes earlier in the day, and the night was still young.

 

---

 

Before dawn the next day, Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi watched as their young lover spoke to Sarutahiko.  The guardian of the Floating Bridge nodded once and stepped aside, letting horse and rider pass.  After a few steps, the horse broke into a run, then took to the air and left the Bridge, turning southwest.

 “It was the honorable choice.”  His voice was cold.

“I tried.”  The words were ashes in her mouth.  “May I forgive myself, but I tried.  It bore no fruit.”

 

---

 

August 18^th, mid-afternoon, Eastern Standard Time.  Exactly five years after the end of the Second Olympian War. 

The anniversary celebration was in full swing, and had been since mid-morning.  Five years’ worth of new campers had met their parents and seen Olympus for the first time, and after whirlwind tours had mostly settled down in family groups.  Annabeth wasn’t sure how they were going to pry Hephaestus’ kids out of the forges, and she’d just diverted around an Apollo cabin jam session that had turned ugly. 

“Annabeth,” Nico di Angelo said as he came up to her, “have you seen Will anywhere?”

“Back that way, with his cabin,” she said, pointing, “but you might want to give them a bit more time.  Guitar strings probably shouldn’t be used that way.”

“What?”

“The celadons showed up,” she explained.  “Their warranty expired a few years ago.”

Nico winced.  “I’ll just… wait here for a bit, then.”

“That’s probably smart.  I’m heading for the drinks table, if you wanted to come,” she said.  Nico shrugged, and they went back the way he’d come from.

After they’d gotten their drinks, he asked, in what he probably thought was a casual tone, “So, any idea why Percy isn’t here?”

The atmosphere in Olympus was strange today.  The younger campers couldn’t know anything was wrong, but Annabeth wasn’t the only veteran who had picked up on the hole left by the absence of the demigod with the most right to be celebrating today.  None of the immortals they’d asked had given their children an answer.

“Only what I’ve told everyone else who’s asked.  He wasn’t planning on coming back for his birthday this year.  He’s been out of touch all week.”

She waited for the follow-up question that never came.  The seventeen-year-old just nodded. 

As she studied him, Annabeth thought about where Percy had been on the map when he switched from Iris Messaging to using his phone to call demigods, and of her mothers’ non-answers the week before, and of the richness of human culture and experience. 

She finally said, “I think you might have heard more than I have, though.  So.  Nico, do you have any idea why Percy isn’t here?”

“No!  No, why would I know anything?”

 “You’re the first person who didn’t ask why Hermes couldn’t deliver Percy’s invitation the way he did for everyone else.”

He opened and closed his mouth silently, before saying, “It just didn’t occur to me.”

 Annabeth took a long sip of her drink, absently watching Laurel and Holly Victor, twin daughters of Nike, start a game of Twister on the far side of the field.  Eris, goddess of discord, was standing at their side.  “Would it help if I said my dead cousin is a Norse demigod?”

Nico blinked.  “Um.  That… would help a lot, actually.  Anyone I know?”

He then seemed to remember that this was not the standard response to being informed of a death in the family.  “And, uh, sorry for your loss.”

“You wouldn’t know him, no.  Wrong afterlife.  Don’t worry, we talk regularly.”

“…right,” he said.  “I don’t actually know anything specific.  Just that something is going on with the Japanese gods and that Percy is involved.  That’s why I asked you.”

“Percy didn’t say anything to me, but Rachel said Apollo said he’s visiting a girlfriend in Japan,” she said. 

Nico choked and snorted Coke out his nose. 

Annabeth had thought Nico might have had a crush on her, once.  Had assumed that he had been jealous of Percy.  When he and Will Solace started dating last year, she’d had to revise her assumptions.

“Are you okay?” she asked, pounding him on the back and handing him her napkin.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he retorted, clearing his throat.

“It’s been five years.  I’m more worried that he didn’t mention that there’s someone like that in his life.  I don’t think he’d leave it out unless he thought he had to.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “Like you just did.”

Nico’s shoulders slumped.  “No, probably not.”

“My mom didn’t know he’d left,” she said quietly.  “I don’t think the gods are happy he’s gone.”

“Some of them are,” Nico said.  “…mostly the ones who fought with the Titans.  I don’t think Melinoe has stopped laughing yet.  Have you ever seen a ghost-mummy laugh?  It’s not pretty.”

Farther down the path, a celestial choir started singing Shake it Off.  Nico grimaced.  “They might actually need backup there, I should go.”

“See you around,” she said, finishing her drink. 

He hesitated, then said, “He’ll be fine.  It’s Percy Jackson.”

She smiled.  “Yeah.  He always lands on his feet.  More lives than a cat.”

She wasn’t sure which of them was reassuring the other.

 

---

 

As the party continued outside the palace, Poseidon inserted the earpiece Hermes handed him into his ear and let the other god fix the microphone onto the collar of his Hawaiian shirt.  They were relying almost exclusively on mundane communication today, from the satellites focused on the ports of Hainan that had told them when Percy returned to the island, to the microphone that would be Poseidon’s link to Olympus.  Although the other gods would also attempt to observe Poseidon and Percy through their normal means, that path could and probably would be blocked by any of the native gods.

“Testing, testing.  Can you hear me, Poseidon?”  Apollo was in a different room of Hermes’ palace with Hephaestus; the rest of the Olympian council would be joining them over the next hour.

“Yes,” Poseidon said curtly, and waved off Hermes.  “Enough, it’s secure.  I’m leaving.” 

“Good luck.”  Hermes disappeared to join Apollo and Hephaestus as Poseidon focused on the farthest reach of his territory, at the intersection of the Pacific and Indian Oceans between Australia and Indonesia, where his waters mixed with both Ryujin’s and Varuna’s.

He could feel their attention on him; it was rare for any of the ocean rulers to concentrate on their borders, and it was usually the start of an attempt to extend the waters under their rule.  He had even felt Ryujin focus in a similar manner, five years ago when he had been unable to answer the challenge. 

That was not his intention today. 

Poseidon gathered his power into the human-sized body his son was most familiar with, and left the West.

He felt the shocked recoil of their powers just before he lost that sense completely.  It was a bold move, but Olympus needed answers.  According to Ares and Athena, Zeus’s casual ultimatum had brought them a hairsbreadth from a war that would dwarf the coming conflict with Gaia, and they had only the vaguest idea why the Shinto gods had been willing to go to war for Percy when Ryujin had intended to use him to forge a peace. 

Poseidon also had more personal questions, ones that would not be answered over a phone.  If Ryujin chose to prevent him from seeing his son… well, that would also be an answer, in its own way.  War was still a distinct possibility.

His territory fell behind him rapidly, until all that he could feel, all that he was, was centered on the fragile shell darting through the undersea volcanoes and coral reefs of Indonesia.  His control of the water around him now extended barely far enough to allow him to propel his body through it, and he would never be more vulnerable than he was at the moment.  If Ryujin intended to fight, he would destroy Poseidon’s body now, leaving Triton to defend the border until Poseidon had recovered.

Long minutes passed as he soared through Malaysia and into the South China Sea, and Poseidon gradually let himself relax.  Peace, then, or at least a continuation of their current détente. 

Finally, there was a familiar presence to the north, the only thing Poseidon could feel with anything but the normal human senses.  Demigods did have one advantage over their parents; they could go anywhere and challenge anything, as long as they were prepared to face the consequences when they did.  Even before Percy had won favor with Ryujin, he would have had more power here than Poseidon would possess until his territory extended this far.  Percy had essentially brought a small piece of the West to these strange waters. 

Poseidon surfaced a few hundred feet from his son’s ship, currently heading northwest from Hainan at a speed of twenty knots.  He recognized the ship as the one that had been sunk in Long Island Sound the last time he had visited the camp.  Percy had done an impressive job on the restoration- the ship now danced through the waves with no sign that it had once been a worm-ridden wreck.

“There you are, Poseidon.  We were getting worried,” Apollo said.  “The GPS says you’re almost there, but we lost visual as soon as you left your own waters.”

As they had expected.  Poseidon shot upwards and covered the remaining distance in a graceful parabola, landing with a heavy thud on the bow of the ship.

Percy’s reaction was instantaneous.  Before Poseidon landed, in fact as soon as he passed over the bowsprit, his son had rolled out of the hammock stretched between the two masts and uncapped his sword with his right hand.  A stream of water rose over the side of the ship and coalesced into a rapidly spinning shield on his outstretched left arm as he yelled, “Erre es korakas, Guan-”

He cut off, gaping.  “Dad?”

“Happy birthday, Percy.  It’s been awhile,” Poseidon said calmly, and gestured at Anaklusmos.  “Are you expecting an attack?”

Percy snapped his mouth shut and looked at the sword in his hand as though he’d forgotten he was holding it, then put it on the hammock and returned the shield on his arm to the ocean before coming closer.  “Sorry, the local war god is insane and enjoys ambushing me. What are you doing on this side of the world?  Is everyone all right?”

“Everyone is fine, but we are concerned.  You’re missing the five-year celebration of the end of the war, and Zeus has raised some questions about your recent activities.”  He raised his eyebrows.  “Skydiving, son?”

“And it was amazing.” Percy started to grin as Poseidon took his outstretched arm and pulled him into an easy hug.  “There’s a statute of limitations on smiting, right?”

Something deep in Poseidon’s chest uncoiled.  It was as it had ever been between them.  Percy was still his.

When Percy had found out about his heritage, he had taken some time to adjust to the idea that he had a father.  He had taken even longer to let himself believe, as he so desperately wanted to, that Poseidon cared about him.  And then Poseidon had stepped forward and saved not just Percy’s life, but the life of a creature with the power to destroy them all, solely because Percy had wanted ‘Bessie’ to live. 

They were too alike in that respect; the easiest way to gain their loyalty was to give it first.  Though he would not denigrate the sacrifices made and lives lost in the following months, Poseidon rather thought that Olympus had won the war in that instant.

Poseidon knew that Percy would gladly fight another Titan for a fraction more of his time and attention, but he had long since stopped blaming Poseidon for being unable to give it to him.  They had only met half-a-dozen times in person, but Poseidon still had Percy’s unconditional affection.  It was unfair to his heir Triton, who had held the oceans together during his absence, and unfair to Tyson, Polyphemus, Charybdis, and his many other living children, but Percy was his favorite for that reason alone.

He hadn’t quite realized how important that had become until last week.  That Percy had not already agreed to become Ryujin’s heir did not necessarily mean that he would tell Ryujin no, and a quiet whisper in the back of his mind would not let him forget that Percy had chosen the love of a woman over service to his father once already.  And, even quieter, the thought that perhaps he had simply not offered Percy enough…

May Ryujin rot in the depths of the oceans he had stolen from Poseidon, for making him question this.

The moment was shattered by the hellhound, who had come over to sniff the newcomer, and as Percy calmed her Poseidon took the opportunity to feel out his son’s home.  He ignored the gift of tongues on Percy’s eyes, ears, and mouth.  Ignored the shimmering sails, sewn from the skin of a single enormous beast.  Ignored the blessing of Tir Na Nog that sprouted from the mast, and the many other traces of power that wafted through the ship like spices in a marketplace.  Once he got through the distractions and felt the power that was within the ship itself…

Oh.

Oh Styx.

(So that was why the old worm wanted him.)

How had he missed this?

He’d been surprised by Percy’s control over the Queen Anne’s Revenge eight years ago.  Poseidon was the god of the sea and storms, and so mariners had prayed to him out of necessity, but he wasn’t much of a sailor himself; he preferred his chariot.  Still, his children’s powers sometimes had odd manifestations -he still wasn’t sure why his grandson Periclymenus and all of his descendants were shapeshifters- and Poseidon had put it from his mind.  Percy was the most powerful demigod he’d ever sired.  Some oddities were to be expected, and controlling a ship wasn’t anywhere near as dramatic as summoning hurricanes and volcanic eruptions.

(It wasn’t at all like that one time a child of the thunder god had developed power over fruit.  That had only been explainable in hindsight.)

“Zeus says no, no there isn’t, and to get on with it,” Apollo said, and he belatedly remembered that his family could only listen in, and had not just had the world turned out from underneath them.

He pushed through the shock, mindful that it wasn’t just Olympus that was paying attention to this encounter.  “Olympus also received a proposal on Ryujin’s behalf.  You’ve made a name for yourself out here, and he wishes to reward you by making you the god of the parts of the section of the Pacific on the border between our waters.”

From the way Percy stiffened, his girlfriend had not improved her communication skills in the last week.  Now secure in the answer he would receive, Poseidon added, “It’s an adoption request, as well.  Those waters are under his power at the moment and he’d like to keep them there.  The pantheons outside of the West would consider you his son, not mine.”

Percy ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.  “…that explains … a lot, actually.  No, you’re my dad.  If he’d asked me about it I’d have headed him off.  Sorry.”

“Truth.  He’s yours, and loyal.  An idiot, but loyal.”

 “I’d thought not, but I wanted to ask.  I wasn’t sure if your relationship with Amaterasu would affect your decision.” Poseidon studied Percy’s face carefully for any telltale reaction.

Nothing.  No guilt, no dismay, nothing beyond a mild surprise as he said, “How’d you hear about that?”

“It came up when Ryujin’s offer was passed along.”  And, clearly, Percy didn’t consider it a betrayal.  Athena was going to be smug about this for decades, he could tell already.  All of Olympus had seen that she’d had more belief in Percy than Poseidon himself. 

“Is that a problem?”  Percy was still leaning casually against the dog, but he was now studying Poseidon with narrowed eyes.

“It’s a ‘problem’, yes,” Poseidon said.  “Amaterasu has disliked the West since Hephaestus’s boy first anchored in Tokyo Bay, and our children were at war with hers less than a century ago.”

“That’s… come up, yeah,” Percy said dryly.  “She got over it.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Poseidon snapped, starting pace across the deck.  “You’ve become the Shinto Ganymede, your lover’s husband is even more short-tempered than Hera, and you don’t think I should be worried?”  

“Gany-” Percy broke off and rubbed his forehead.  “Look, I wasn’t exactly swept off my feet.  And Tsukuyomi was participating.”

Poseidon stopped pacing.

 “…what,” Apollo said, slightly strangled.

Percy shrugged a bit uncomfortably at Poseidon’s stare.  “I mean, yeah, she’s a married goddess.  Terrible idea.  And then Tsukuyomi offered, and that would have been even more awkward, but after they got back together they… compared notes, or something.”

“Hey, they were laughing at us that entire meeting, weren’t they?”

“Have you lost your mind?  Do you have any idea how close you came to-” Poseidon stopped before revealing how narrowly they suspected they’d avoided a world war; the last thing he wanted to do was make Percy wary of coming home.  Though this at least explained why Amaterasu would have had her siblings’ support to keep Percy close.  “-Never mind.  Is the relationship over, at least?”

Percy shrugged and gestured at the morning sun.  “That’s not Amaterasu.  If I sail north again, they’d probably visit, but I’ve come a little too far southwest for them to be comfortable.  We’ve said our goodbyes.”

Good.  Under other circumstances, it might have been too little, too late, but he’d at least ended it on his own.  Poseidon sighed, trying to come up with the words to explain to his son how phenomenally stupid he’d been.  This could have been so much worse.  “Percy… picture any of your friends with Zeus, and ask yourself why I am concerned.”

Percy was silent for a second, and then said, “I rejected them both and they accepted it, everything that happened was consensual, and they still respected me in the morning.”

Apollo’s choked-off laughter in his earbud didn’t quite drown out the rumble of thunder in the background.  That had been a poor example, in retrospect.  Poseidon was trying to prevent Percy from burning any more bridges.

“You were nineteen.”

“My mom was nineteen, Dad.”

This was different.  This was Percy. 

He didn’t say the words.

Percy finally broke the silence.  “Look, Dad...  gods and mortals, right?  I knew what I was getting into, we all knew how it would end, and it actually lasted longer than I thought it would.  No-one got hurt.”

“He believes that.  Aphrodite disagrees.  I’m almost starting to feel bad for them.”  Despite his words, Apollo’s voice was still darkly amused.

Poseidon decided to ignore that.  “Did you ever stop to think about the… possible consequences of this, Percy?  Relationships with gods are never so simple.”

 “We talked about it, before anything happened,” Percy said.  “Amaterasu knew I didn’t want to raise a kid so soon.  She promised she’d avoid getting pregnant.”

Not quite what Poseidon had meant, but a valid concern.  “If I had a drachma for every time I’d heard that…”

Percy’s lips twitched.  “Mistakes can happen.  Yeah, I know.  Uke-Mochi’s married to one of their fertility deities.  I called in the favor so I wouldn’t have to worry about it.  I can’t have kids until I make a pretty specific offering to Inari.”

“And you think it’s that easy?” Poseidon said, more harshly than he’d meant to.  It was hard to ignore the implied criticism.  Percy had gone to considerable lengths to avoid being placed in the same situation that Poseidon had left his mother in.

“That was important,” Apollo said distantly, with all the surety of the god of prophecy.  “I don’t know why, but that was important… Athena agrees.  That stopped a war.”

“I think it worked,” Percy was saying at the same time, slightly defensively.  “If she was pregnant, she’d have told me before I left Japan.  I’d need to be there until the kid was born.”

Ah. 

It was simple, so simple.  It still would have started a war if Percy hadn’t been one of those mistakes, if he hadn’t known through his own existence how easily broken such vows could be.  Amaterasu had sworn to them that Percy was no prisoner, and her willingness to break her word apparently did not stretch into making him one.  Trapping him, though… that, she might have done.

They would not get another chance.  Olympus had their answers, and with what Poseidon now knew he could be confident there would be no retaliation from his own pantheon.  All that remained was to find out if Ryujin would actually allow Percy to leave.

“I wouldn’t recommend relying on it.  There are ways around such curses, and if it had failed you’d need to make an awkward choice right now,” Poseidon said quietly.  “I need you at home.”

“…we’re still close to port.  If I turned around and docked I could be in New York in a couple of hours,” Percy said after a short pause, fiddling with the beads on his necklace.

“It’s not quite that urgent.  Sail your ship home, if you can.  You will not be able to come back soon.”  It was good that he had the option, though, if Ryujin was uncooperative.   “The next prophecy is about to start.  Consider this your call.”

Percy nodded grimly.  “At top speed, I could be at Panama in a month.  It’d take at least another week to get to New York from there.”

“Just within the West will do.”

“Guam?” Percy asked, naming the closest US territory.  It had once been near the border between Poseidon’s and Ryujin’s oceans, but was now far behind the lines.

“Australia.”

Above them, the sails shifted, and the Firefly began to turn south.  Percy’s current speed was unusually fast for a sailing ship, but if it was his norm he’d be in Poseidon’s waters in about a week.

“Thank you,” Poseidon said as the sea grew choppier around them.  “And I think I am outstaying my welcome in this ocean.”

“Yeah,” Percy said, looking down at the swells.  They wouldn’t be a danger to an experienced sailor, and were actually pushing the ship south in direct contrast to the relatively still waters on the horizon, but the threat was clear.  “Thanks for coming, though.  I know it’s not easy this far East.”

“It was good to see you,” Poseidon said.  As he walked to the side of the ship, he was struck by a stray thought.  “Incidentally, have you ever tried to control liquids that weren’t primarily water?”

Percy blinked at the non sequiter, but answered, “Poisons, a few times.  Why?”

“If you try that with lower-proof alcohol, you can keep yourself from getting drunk.  I thought I’d mention it, since you just turned twenty-one.”

Percy smiled.  “Thanks, Dad.  I didn’t know that.”

“Lie.  Sorry, Poseidon, looks like he figured that one out on his own.”

Poseidon turned away to hide his grimace.  As he was about to dive over the side, he paused, then sighed and turned back.  “Athena’s girl is no longer an issue, it would seem.  Did you only reject the offer because you would have needed to switch pantheons?”

“What?”

“If you still had the choice,” Poseidon clarified, “would you choose to become a god of the West?”

His son grinned at him, relaxed and happy and more comfortable in his own skin than he had ever been as a boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders.  Even the white hairs from that incident were gone.  “Nah.  I went through the Pillars on the way to the Mediterranean.  I think I made the right call.”

 “That’s… unfortunate.  You are not the next Heracles, Percy.”  Percy was far from the first to make the comparison, though, not when he’d been going through the Labors like he’d had a checklist for a few years there. 

 It would have been better if he had been.  Poseidon could have kept Percy by his side, if he had been.

Poseidon sighed.  No, this had probably been inevitable.  “She’s a good ship, son.  She’ll take you to the stars if you ask her to.”

“She is, yeah.”  Percy grinned, as pleased by praise from Poseidon as he had ever been, and missed the gravity in his words.

“…Truth,” Apollo said slowly. “Absolute truth.  Poseidon, what… oh no.  Really?”

Poseidon tossed the earpiece into the ocean as he dove over the side of the ship.

They had compared him to Heracles.  They’d been wrong. 

Percy wasn’t the next Heracles.

He was the next Dionysus.

 

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Author’s Notes: … I’ve been building up to this throughout the story, but the punchline probably would have had more impact if I hadn’t let it sit for nearly four years.  The most relevant sections were the Percy/Chiron conversation in the first chapter and Hercules’ mention of Dionysus in chapter three.

Poseidon tries, folks.

 

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Mythology Notes:

‘The naiads of Spain had duck feet’- These are Lamia, of no relation to the Greek monster.  They’re the naiad-equivalent in Basque mythology, and are typically friendly, or at least not actively malicious.  They are among the general group of fairies that will help out around the farm if food offerings are left for them.  Since they’re from Basque country originally, this group was a bit far southwest; Sanabria Lake National Park is in Zamora Province in western Castile-and-Leon.

‘His name was Geryon’ :  True story.  Riordan didn’t make a big deal about it, but by the time Percy met Chrysaor in Mark of Athena, Percy had killed Chrysaor’s mother and son (and both of his aunts multiple times although it didn’t stick). 

Jewel Steel / Tamahagane- this is the name of the traditional steel of Japan, made from smelting iron sand.  Steel made this way is very low-quality in real life.  Traditional Japanese swords are made by folding the metal many times to get rid of the impurities inherent in the raw material and by layering steel types of varying hardness onto the final blade.  The swordsmithing process took anywhere from days to weeks and was considered a sacred art, generally accompanied by a bunch of Shinto rituals.

Masamune- Japan’s most famous swordsmith.  Most of his work was made in the late 1200’s and early 1300’s.  There is a legend about a contest between Masamune and his ‘student’ Muramasa to see who could make the finer sword.  (Muramasa wasn’t making swords until roughly two centuries later, so the two men would not have actually met.)  They both made an outstanding sword, and took it to a creek.  When Muramasa’s sword was lowered into the creek, it cut apart everything that passed by, from the leaves to the fish.  When Masamune put his sword in the water, only the leaves were cut.  A wandering monk who’d been hanging around called the contest for Masamune, because Muramasa’s sword cut everything indiscriminately, but Masamune’s sword didn’t kill the innocent living creatures.  Muramasa’s swords went on to gain a terrible reputation over the centuries, including a legend that they could not be sheathed without drawing blood.

In the fic, that legend absolutely happened.  Masamune’s blades and the swords like it are the Shinto equivalent of Celestial Bronze, and Muramasa’s blades are like Luke’s sword Backbiter, able to cut both mythical and mortal flesh.

The Honjō Masamune- One of Masamune’s most famous swords, considered to be one of the greatest blades ever forged in Japan.  It is named for one of the earlier owners, a General Honjō.  After a few centuries, it wound up with the Tokugawa family and was a symbol of the Tokugawa shogunate during most of the Edo period, and was declared a Japanese National Treasure in 1939.  During the American occupation of Japan in 1945-1946, Iemasa Tokugawa, a member and eventual president of the House of Peers in the Japanese Diet, decided to set a good example in complying with MacArthur’s weapons-confiscation demand, and surrendered fifteen family swords, including the Honjo Masamune.  They were transferred from the police station to the custody of a ‘Sgt. Cody Bimore’, which was probably not the correct spelling of the sergeant’s name, and were never seen again.

In-story, that guy got eaten by the Yamata-no-Orochi.  In real life, the Honjo Masamune was probably either melted down for scrap metal or taken to the States as a souvenir, hopefully the latter.  So, if anyone’s grandfather or great-grandfather has an old Japanese sword they brought back from the war… you might want to get it appraised.

Hephaestus’ boy- Commodore Matthew Perry, the ‘Father of the Steam Navy’.  Along with other programs to modernize the United States Navy, he oversaw the construction of and commanded their second steam-powered frigate and organized the first naval corps of engineers.  In 1852 was assigned by President Fillmore to open Japan to US trade, through gunboat diplomacy if necessary.  He anchored in Edo Bay in 1853, delivered the thinly-veiled demands, and left for six months.  In 1854, under implied threat from Perry’s fleet, the Kanagawa Treaty was signed to end the Tokugawa Shogunate’s isolationist policies and open two Japanese ports to foreign ships.

 

 

 

Chapter Text

Happy holidays, folks!  Have a chapter, and I’ll see you next year.  Thanks to tyjo99 for the beta and proofread!

 Content note:  This chapter contains some swearing.  (I do not expect to have to use this warning again in the story.)

 

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Mid-December, two years after the end of the Second Olympian War

 A sea serpent coiled around me.  My sides creaked and groaned as the snake constricted around my hull and tried to crush my keel.  I held , and the wood planks that were threatening to splinter firmed up and resisted.

I woke up, groaning, and dropped a few ropes over the side of the Firefly.  As prophetic dreams went, that one didn’t need much interpretation.  It might just have even been a very vivid nightmare, like a dream of suffocating when my pillow wound up on my face in my sleep.

 The ropes curled around the head of the sea serpent currently doing its best to crush me, then hauled the thing’s top section on board and wrapped it up until it could barely move.

 I rubbed my eyes as one of the cannons rolled over to poke Mrs. O’Leary awake.  Blackjack could be a pretty heavy sleeper, but if I used the cannon itself it would definitely get him up, and there was no reason for all of us to be awake before dawn.  My dog whuffed for a bit, but finally raised her head enough to see the snake stretched out like a rope toy in front of her and gnawed on it until it popped into dust.

 The monster attacks had dropped off after I summoned Mrs. O’Leary in Morocco, from several a day to about one every couple of days, but the monsters that still decided to chance it tended to be ones large enough to not worry too much about the guard dog.  Except for Chrysaor, none of them had been any more trouble than this one.

 I put my ropes back and checked the time.  Not quite five in the morning. We were still a few hours out of Rome, and I might as well try to get a full night’s sleep.

 After the sun was actually up, I stumbled up to the deck and got my first look at the massive Roman metropolitan area.  I reached out to the water and ships around me as I came up on the mouth of the Tiber River. There was a large marina just to the south, the Tourist Port of Rome, and I let my awareness sift through the ships berthed there before turning my attention upriver.  The slip I’d reserved for my trip home was at a smaller marina on the Tiber, closer to the ancient Roman port of Ostia.

 I’d already gotten through customs at a brief stop at Le Spazia, farther north, so we were free to start sightseeing as soon as we docked.  I grabbed a cappuccino and a pastry at a café for breakfast- the meals seemed to be pretty much like Spain, with a light breakfast and a heavier, later lunch and dinner- and went with Blackjack up into Rome itself.

 We swooped over the Colosseum, looking for a landing spot that was out-of-the-way enough that the Mist wouldn’t make the other visitors think we were reenacting Hitchcock’s The Birds.  (We were never going back to Marseille.)

 Blackjack was heading for the ground when he suddenly back-winged furiously and diverted course.

 Boss, look at that!

 I followed his gaze to what looked like two men in a lion suit on the grounds of the arena, poorly menacing the tourists in the stands.  Then I squinted, and saw the blood on the very real mane, the goat body, and the serpent’s head for a tail. I groaned.

 “The Chimera again?  Why did she dump him in Italy?”

 Again? Blackjack squawked.   What do you mean ‘again’?

 “It was before we met,” I said.  “Annabeth, Grover and I were looking for Zeus’s lightning bolt and Echidna sicced him on us.”

 You killed the Chimera and you didn’t tell me? He sounded hurt now.

 “‘Killed’ is such a strong word.  More ‘jumped off a building to get away from’.”

 Blackjack stayed quiet.

 It was a very judging quiet.

 “I was twelve.  First quest and everything.”

 And now you’re an adult hero, he said, turning in the air to circle back at the monster.  It’s time for round two.

 “We’re in the air,” I pointed out.  “It can’t fly. This is not a fight that needs to happen.”

 Sure it does, boss.  This is our big chance to let you work past your childhood trauma-

 “Of the many things that could have traumatized me, the Chimera is actually pretty low on the list.”

 - and for us to attain eternal glory, like Pegasus and whatshisname before us.

 “Bellerophon.”

 Whatever.  All you need to do is shoot at it from above or something, it’ll be easy.

 “Bold of you to think I brought a bow on this trip,” I said dryly.

 You looted a pirate ship last month.  Are you saying none of them were archers? And I know they had javelins.

 I sighed, giving in.  It wasn’t like the snake head could poison me this time and fighting from pegasus-back was the traditional Chimera-hunting method.  And we should probably get it away from the confused tourists sooner rather than later.

 “All right.  Let’s get back to the ship.”

 On the Firefly, I grabbed all of the javelins I could carry, and, yes, a bow and a quiver of arrows.  I took a last look around my armory, to look for anything else that might be useful for fighting a giant fire-breathing goat-thing, and my eyes fell on the padded crates in the corner.

 You’re kidding, Blackjack said flatly a few minutes later, looking at the single javelin in my left hand.

 “Bellerophon killed it by throwing a lead ball down its throat,” I said.  After St. Louis, Annabeth had given me the full story. It had stuck. “And I’m fresh out of lead.”

 When everyone back home asks how we did this, I’m lying.

 “You do that.” I’d been badly poisoned by the snake-head the first time, but I didn’t have to worry about that anymore, and I’d been fairly fire-resistant even before dunking in the Styx.  Unless he got in a very lucky shot on my back, there was nothing the Chimera could do to me.

 Blackjack, though, had just recovered from the last time he’d been injured.  I’d end this as quickly as possible.

 Back at the Colosseum, we saw a big arena that was distinctly lacking any men in lion suits.  A quick flight around the ruins didn’t turn up anything, and I finally told Blackjack to land near where we’d seen the Chimera originally.  One dog-whistle later, and I was reaching up to scratch Mrs. O’Leary’s ears while she sat panting next to us.

 “We need you to track another monster, girl.  Do you smell a smoky goat around here?”

 I clipped her leash on just before she surged up and started sniffing the area, and soon we were following her out of the Colosseum entirely and on a meandering path through the monuments on Palatine Hill and back down towards the Tiber River.  We finally saw it again in the courtyard of an old church- the Saint Mary in Cosmedin, according to the sign, which would save us a trip. It was one of the sites Annabeth had begged me to get pictures of.

 The courtyard was thankfully deserted.  Probably because the Chimera still looked like two weirdos wandering around as the front and back ends of a lion.

 “Sit, girl.”  She did, and without prompting, Blackjack took off running to get into the air.  I gave a shrill two-fingered whistle to get his attention. “Hey, sonny! Remember me?”

 He gave an impressive snarl.  That probably meant ‘yes’. I pulled the first javelin from across Blackjack’s withers and flung.  The Chimera ducked his front head, and the javelin glanced off his back with just a scratch. The thing was no Nemean Lion, but the hide was still pretty tough.

 Blackjack circled back around, and I threw again.  He dodged that one completely, as agile as a cat even with a goat’s body.  Finally, Blackjack had stooped low enough for him to be able to hit us, and he raised his lion head.  The banked embers down his throat ignited into a roaring flame.

 “Now, Blackjack!”  I switched the javelin I’d been holding carefully in my left hand to my right, then threw it straight down the Chimera’s throat as Blackjack back-winged and got as much height as he could in the time of a javelin’s flight.

The stream of fire beginning to come from the Chimera glowed green for a brief instant, before the vial of Greek Fire duct-taped to the javelin exploded.

 Blackjack staggered in the air from the shock wave of the explosion, and I lost every one of the useless arrows in my quiver as I grabbed his neck to stay on until he recovered.

 Did that get him?

 “It better have.  I only brought one of those.”

 The smoke cleared a bit, to show what was left of the Chimera.  It looked like it was just the hard bits- the teeth, fangs, and hooves.

 See?  That was easy, Blackjack said cheerfully as we landed.   Dibs on the spoils of war.

 “They’re all yours,” I said, starting to gather up the weapons that had survived the explosion.  “Let me get the snake fangs bronzed or something for you, though. They’re probably still poisonous.”

 “Um.  Excuse us?”  A woman’s voice came from behind me, in the direction of the church.  I looked up to see a pixyish dark-haired woman and a handsome man in fifties-style clothing staring down at us from the top of the stairs to the entryway.

 I looked down at the arrows in my hand, then back up at the couple.  “This is not what it looks like.”

 “It looks like you killed the Chimera using Greek Fire,” the guy said, eyebrows raised.

 They weren’t human.  I relaxed. “OK, it’s exactly what it looks like.”

 “Are you… a son of Athena?” he asked dubiously, looking past me to where Blackjack was comparing hoof sizes.  “Do you have your letter of introduction?”

 “You’re literally the first person who has ever asked me if I’m Athena’s kid,” I said, trying to picture Annabeth’s face if she’d heard the suggestion.  “My name is Percy Jackson. What do I need a letter for?”

 “Poseidon’s mortal son?” he said, frowning in a 1950’s-sitcom-dad sort of way.  He and the woman came down the steps towards us, and I started getting a nagging feeling of familiarity.

 “Yeah- I thought it was Neptune here, though.”

 “It’s… not quite that simple, dear,” the lady said as they reached me.  “Never mind that, though! Welcome to Rome! I’m Rhea Silvia, and this is my husband-”

 “Tiberinus,” he said, holding out his hand for a shake.  “God of the River Tiber.”

 “Wait,” I said, finally placing them, “didn’t you guys star in that movie from the fifties?  Roman Holiday?”

 I’d never heard of it before Rachel started up her movie nights, but it had been Annabeth’s choice when it was her first turn to pick.  I couldn’t for the life of me remember the actors’ names, though.

 “Movie?  No,” Rhea Silvia said cheerfully, “you must have mistaken us for someone else!  It’s kind of you to think we’re as young as the nineteen-fifties, though!”

 “Right.  Sorry.” I became surer about it, though, as I looked around.  Annabeth wanted me to get pictures of this place because it was in that movie.  Something about a statue that would bite you if you told a lie with your hand in its mouth- I’d been nodding off by that scene.

 “If you’re not following the Mark of Athena, Percy Jackson, what are you doing here?” Tiberinus asked, looking me up and down like I’d suddenly pop Annabeth or one of her siblings out of my pocket.

 “What’s the Mark of Athena?”

 “Never mind that, it’s clearly not your quest,” he said, waving it off.  “What brings you here, young man?”

 I did mind that, but just made a mental note to figure out what he’d been talking about the next time I caught up with Annabeth.  “I’m taking a world trip. Rome is kind of a necessary stop, you know?”

 “Of course!” he said.  “All roads lead to Rome, and we’re always glad for visitors, but this is not a friendly land, especially for a son of Poseidon.  Even Roman demigods have been forbidden to come here for centuries, except at a god’s direct command, and even then, it’s a bit questionable.”

 “Chiron never said anything about that,” I said.

 “No,” Tiberinus said, smiling a movie-star smile, “he wouldn’t have.  Old oaths bind us both. There are matters concerning the most powerful immortals that we cannot openly discuss with demigods.”

 “I have a friend who was born in Italy, so I’m not sure the ‘most powerful immortals’ ever got told we weren’t supposed to be here,” I said.  “And there were a lot of demigods fighting in the World Wars.”

 “Yes,” he said.  He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

 I looked at him blankly, not quite sure what he was hinting at.  “So, you’d be fine with me being here if I had a quest?”

 “I said,” he said, his smile fading slightly, “no Roman demigod should be here without one.”

 “Okay,” I said, the ball finally dropping, “what’s my quest then?”

 “What?”  He lost the smile completely.

 “You’re a god.  You can give out quests,” I said.  He was a local river god- whatever errand he wanted run probably wouldn’t take us too far out of the way.  “Lord Tiberinus, what can I help you with?”

 Tiberinus sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “Well, you’re no child of Athena.”

 Rhea Silvia’s expression had brightened, though, and she tugged her husband’s arm.  They stepped away and he bent down to listen to her. After a short conversation that was mostly made up of her talking and him shrugging and nodding, they walked back.

 “There is actually something you can do for us, Percy Jackson,” she said happily.  “I haven’t heard from some old friends of mine in a few centuries, since some absolutely horrible men vandalized the mansion near their shrine.  Could you be a dear and find them for me? They might need you to bring them some water, too, their aqueduct has probably run dry by now, but that shouldn’t be any problem for you, right?”

 “Um, right.”

 “Wonderful!  Just help them out and we’ll spread the word not to bother you.  It won’t help with the monsters, of course, but the local gods won’t give you any problems.”

 “Okay, I’ll get right on that,” I said.  “Before that, though… can I get a picture?  One of my best friends is a child of Athena, and she’s a huge fan…”

 A couple of hours and a very depressing pizza lunch later, I had left Blackjack and Mrs. O’Leary at the entrance to a long-abandoned shrine.  According to Rhea Silvia, the nymphs of this shrine had once helped her namesake Rhea, Queen of the Titans, give birth. They’d delivered Zeus and hidden him from Cronus until he got old enough to free his siblings.  At some point, they’d moved to Rome. Maybe the housing market had been good.

 I jumped down from the bottom of the stairs to the shrine, which was a few feet lower than the stairs for some reason.  The wall across from me had a set of niches, one for each of the nine nymphs. They were empty.

 “Hello?  My name is Percy Jackson,” I said to the empty room.  I took a deep breath. I could smell the sea, and not in a good way.  Sort of in a rotting-seaweed way. “Rhea Silvia asked me to swing by and check on you, see if you needed anything.”

 I looked around and waited.  I was pretty sure there was something still here in this old dry room, but I didn’t think it was awake.

 Well, Rhea Silvia had already basically told me what it would take.  And each niche in the shrine was completely embedded with seashells.

 The sea is always with you.

 Seawater started to trickle from the shells embedded in the shrine, covering it with a solid sheet of water.  The water reached the bottom of the individual niches… and then went dry, sinking back into the shrine walls without a trace.

 I closed my eyes.  The trickles turned to fountains as each individual seashell became the source of a saltwater spring.  The interiors of the niches filled with streams of crossed water, but none of it made it out into the basin of the shrine itself.

 Finally, the water gushing into the niches started to stay there and solidify.  One after the other, a mummified husk that might once have been a nymph formed.

 I looked at the list of Greek names Rhea Silvia had given me.  Names had power, even for the lesser immortals, and it had been a long time since the nymphs had heard theirs.  It wouldn’t give me power over them, or them over me, but it might help them wake up.

 “Neda.  Anthracea.  Hagno. Oenoe.  Glauce. Theisoa.  Ide. Alcinoe. Phrixa.”

 As I named them, one by one, the something in the room faded.  The rotting-seaweed smell was gone, replaced by saltwater and a sea breeze that wasn’t coming from the door.

 Even expecting it, I still yelped and reached for Riptide when the first mummy opened her eyes.  As I forced myself to relax, the desiccated nymph staggered from the niche that had become her tomb and fell into room.  I caught her with a stream of water and guided her into the pool that quickly started to fill from the fountains in the niche she’d left behind.

 Soon, the mummies were up and hydrating while I kept the water coming.  It helped a bit. They were starting to toe the line between ‘mummy’ and ‘crone’ when one of them whispered, “Who?”

 I repeated my intro.  I wasn’t sure how much the rest of them were focusing, but the first nymph returned the favor and introduced herself as Hagno.  She pointed out which sister went with each name, but I’d probably lose track of who was who as soon as they moved out of the little half-circle they were in.  There weren’t too many distinguishing features yet.

 “So, you’re a son of Neptune?” Hagno said musingly.  “I knew your father when they still called him Poseidon, Percy Jackson.  He was much more fun, before Olympus moved to Rome-”

 “They started calling him Poseidon again at some point,” I said hastily, deciding immediately that I didn’t want to hear any stories about the good old days, especially if they involved any fun the nymph might have had with my dad.  Medusa had left scars. “So, my quest was to find you and help you out.  What do you need?”

 The old nymph looked at me tiredly.  “Water. An endless supply of water.”

 “Um, that’s… kind of a tall order.”  I could make water if I focused on it, sure.  Permanent springs? That was different. Like, Poseidon’s-patron-gift-to-Athens, different.  “I can try, I guess. There might be some pipes nearby I can divert.”

 “You don’t need to try,” Hagno said.  “You are an endless supply of water, Percy Jackson.”

 I suddenly didn’t like where this was going.  I glanced behind me, and, sure enough, the door to the shrine had disappeared.  I fingered Riptide but didn’t pull it out of my pocket yet. I didn’t actually want to escalate this.  Giving them back their bodies and then immediately attacking them seemed kind of pointless.

 “I wouldn’t say endless.  The shells will stop as soon as I stop paying attention to them.  I can keep them going long enough for you to recover enough to leave, though.”

 A couple of the other nymphs let out humorless, rasping laughs.  One of them (Ide, I thought) said, “No, you can’t.”

 “This is why dear Rhea sent you to us, child,” the one I was almost sure was Anthracea said.  

 “I don’t think so, actually.”  It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to stab me in the back, but the cheerful, slightly silly woman really didn’t seem like the type.  “Trying to keep me here won’t go well for you, ladies. What else would help you out?”

 As I finished speaking, I stopped the water.  At this point it was just making the nymphs trying to lock me up stronger.

 Unfortunately, that immediately started the fight I’d been trying to avoid.  The nine nymphs hissed and faded out as the water where they’d been sitting started turned black.  The creepy water quickly spread to the rest of the pool- and then, even more disturbingly, started flowing over the lip of the basin.  Either I’d given the nymphs more than I’d thought I had or they’d just moved to another source of power.

 I gave the tar-water a mental poke and recoiled.  It was… water. Sort of. If water could taste like the congealed hatred and despair of centuries, I mean.

 I reached down into myself, deeper than I’d needed to to wake up the nymphs.  The seashell-lined niches were the low-hanging fruit, just a couple of thousand years old and easy to make remember the sea.  The stone around me, filled with seashells that had been ancient when Oceanus ruled the oceans, was harder.

 I focused, and called on the echoes of the sea that surrounded me.  The walls began dripping, and then gushing, and the room started filling with fresh seawater again.

 After a few seconds, though, the new water started turning dark too.  I pulled everything I had, concentrated so hard that it felt like something inside me was fracturing, like it would break entirely if I pulled just a bit harder.

 I had created every drop of water in this place.  It was mine.  

 And with that certainty, the tar stopped expanding.

 Stalemate, and this wasn’t Achelous’s river. The shrine might be dedicated to the nymphs, but they’d just woken up, and they weren’t gods.  Not even close. This time, I was willing to bet I could outlast them.

 “Tell me, Hagno,” I said, with my voice rolling and echoing through the small shrine, “what’s your game plan here?  It doesn’t sound like you think you’ll be able to ever leave. What happens if you get a me as a source of water?”

 None of the nymphs answered me, but I knew they were listening.

 “You’d still be here, wouldn’t you?  In the same little room in the same forgotten shrine you’ve been stuck in since you moved to Rome.  You’re trapped.”

 A whisper of ‘you know nothing, demigod,’ came from all around me.

 “The world has changed. There are entire continents you've never seen.  They probably didn't even know they existed the last time you were paying attention. Why would you want to stay here?”

 The echoes of my words lingered in the air.  I could feel their attention on me now, like a weight in the air.

 “Olympus has moved across the ocean, did you know? The heart of the West is in New York City, and it's bigger than Rome has ever been. Atlantis is a few miles offshore. Chiron is still teaching at Camp Half-Blood in Long Island Sound.  And if you stay here, you will never see any of it."

I had them. I could taste it.

 “Let me set you free.”

 “You cannot.”  The voice came from behind me. I whirled around, drawing Riptide and nearly gutting her reflexively before stopping myself.

 “This place is our prison, yes,” Hagno continued.  Her voice was yearning, and black tears were welling at the corner of her eyes.  She didn't seem to notice the sword in my hand. “Our life sources were bound to this place.  Our old master never saw fit to release us, and he left no heirs, and so we have withered here in the darkness for centuries. You cannot free us.”

 I took a deep breath, thinking.  Why they'd ever agreed to that, I didn't know, but it didn’t matter now.  What mattered was that they needed a dead man’s permission before they could quit their shrine-nymph gig.

 “Okay.  What was his name?”

 Hagno blinked and turned back towards me, dismissing whatever faraway sight she was seeing.  “Why do you wish to know?”

 I capped Riptide and pulled out my wallet to make sure I still had some drachmas.   “I know a guy.”

 A few hours and a couple of long Iris-message conversations later, Nico had called up the ex-owner of the shrine- who, it turned out, had tried to flee from one of the various armies that sacked Rome, and hadn’t quite managed to get away- and gotten him to give a very late eviction notice.  

 The nymphs disappeared one by one with whispered thanks, except for Hagno, who walked with me up the stairs to the shrine.  As we got to the door, she raised her head in the late afternoon sunlight and started crying again.

 I hadn't stopped the shell fountains again, and the afternoon had brought her from ‘ancient crone’ to ‘well-preserved’.  It was still older than I'd ever seen a nymph look, but I figured it meant they'd recover eventually, once they’d chosen new homes.

 “We owe you a great debt, Percy Jackson,” she said.  “My sisters have gone to seek new homes. Mountain streams, perhaps, or a lake in a meadow.  I will follow them. We will dance in the forests and grasslands again and live in the clear running water.  Thank you.”

“Um… things have changed a lot in the last couple of thousand years,” I said.  “There’s a lot less of… all of that.”

 “Nonsense,” Hagno said, smiling, “Pan would not allow things to get too bad.  It will be so good to see him again!”

 I opened my mouth, and then decided that breaking things to her gradually was the better part of valor.  “When you get used to being back aboveground again, you and your sisters might want to pay a visit to Camp Half-Blood.  One of the Lords of the Wild, Grover, has some ongoing projects I think you’ll be interested in by then. Good luck.”

She smiled.  “I will keep that in mind.  Thank you again, and we do apologize for trying to suck out your life force.”

 She vaporized away.

 “You did what now?” I asked to thin air, then shook my head and let it go.  I whistled to let Blackjack know I was done and turned back down the road to the Tiber.

 

---

---

 

August 19, morning, China Standard Time. Exactly five years after the end of the Second Olympian War.

I took a deep breath as I watched my dad dive over the side of the Firefly, letting what he’d just told me finally sink in.

 Ryujin had wanted to make me a god.  To adopt me.

 I wasn’t sure how to deal with that.  I liked the dragon god. I considered him a friend despite how we’d met, and thought he’d felt the same way despite the whole ‘mortal son of Poseidon’ thing, but if he’d ever hinted that he wanted me to join the family, I’d missed it entirely.

I figured I knew what his ‘unsuitable gift’ had been now, at least.  I fingered the pearl that had taken its place, and then groaned as a presence materialized behind me, with his razor-sharp guan dao resting halfway between my neck and my mortal spot.

 “And you are dead.  Guard your back, Percy.”

 “Go to the crows, Guan Yu.”

 The curse just didn’t have the same emphasis in Chinese.

 The war god snorted and pulled back the Heavenly Jade polearm.  “Insane, am I?”

 “You were listening?”  I turned to look up at him as he joined me at the ship railing.  Guan Yu was seven feet tall and built like a barrel, with a presence that made him seem even larger.

 “I was far from the only one,” he said.  “That was not an intrusion that could go unnoticed.”

 “I guess not.”  I could still barely believe it.  Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi had had trouble visiting once I’d gotten south of Taiwan.  My dad had been in the wrong hemisphere.  “Did you know Ryujin was planning this?”

 He raised his bushy eyebrows.  “Did you think I shadow every Western demigod that sets foot in the country?”

 “Well, until you said it like that…”

 “I have better things to do with my time than pester impertinent mortals,” he said dryly.  I doubted that, actually, given how often Guan Yu had been popping up to sneak-attack me since the fight with Chi You.  “Ryujin informed the Jade Emperor of his intention before you came. Before he settled things with Poseidon, he wanted to be certain we would welcome you at court.  I was told to observe you.”

 “And no-one ever thought it might be a good idea to ask me?”  I was starting to go from stunned to annoyed.  I’d known Guan Yu for nearly a year.

 Guan Yu coughed, and stroked his beard uncomfortably.  “I… don’t think it occurred to anyone that you might refuse.”

 “Sorry to disappoint,” I said sourly.

 “You haven’t,” he said.  His gaze had turned contemplative.  “You turned down divinity to return to the service of your father, Percy.  I will not disrespect that choice.”

 “Okay…” I said slowly, “that is really not what happened there.”

 “It is how it will be seen,” he said, “and how it will be remembered.  Such acts of filial piety are rare. The Jade Emperor will welcome you at court, should you ever be in a position to sail back to China.”

 “What do you mean?  Why would it make a difference?”  I asked. I hadn’t been to the Chinese divine court, though I’d heard enough stories to think I wasn’t missing out on too much.

 He sighed.  “The situation was complicated.  Ryujin’s treaty proposal was not well received by the Bureaucracy initially.  My observation was intended to give the sea lord the respect he was due, while allowing the bureaucrats to seize on any excuse to avoid welcoming you to court.”

 “Because of my dad, or because of Amaterasu?”  When people had a problem with me in China, it was usually one or the other.

 “A bit of both, but if asked they would say that it was because you would need to forsake your father to take another.  It was very… unfilial, and the traditionalists decided to object strenuously,” he said. “I gave you my support months ago, but nothing actually happened until Chi You popped up again.  Part of that is just the nature of the Bureaucracy, of course, but the paperwork goes faster when the emperor so chooses. He did not.”

 I narrowed my eyes in sudden realization, something from two months ago finally making sense.  “You never actually filed that request for backup against Chi You, did you?”

 “It’s a lot of forms,” he admitted shamelessly.  “Handwritten. And if the calligraphy isn’t perfect and the poetry doesn’t scan, the officials give them back to you with red ink markups.”

 I thought about it and shrugged.  I’d have decided to fight a giant with just a single demigod tagging along too.  “Fair enough.”

 “At any rate, fighting him the first time got me to the court.  Since you were willing, I didn’t have to file anything in triplicate, and I thought I’d see if it would work again.”  He gave a nonchalant half-shrug. “It did. The Emperor agreed that you would have the same status as the Dragon Kings do when they drop in.  Then last week, Amaterasu passed on Ryujin’s proposal to your pantheon, and things went… poorly.”

 “Amaterasu passed it on?”  I frowned. That put a lot of the last week into perspective.

 Wait.  Ryujin had, apparently, wanted me to stay in his ocean.

 A trickle of cold discomfort started to worm its way down my spine.  “Guan Yu, how long has Ryujin been planning this? Just since I came to China, right?”

 “I believe since you rescued his eldest daughter.”

 A yuki-onna had clawed my back once.  My armor had stopped the claws, but not the blast of cold that hit my mortal spot and radiated outward.

 This felt a lot like that.

 I closed my eyes, trying to think back.  Trying to remember if Amaterasu or Tsukuyomi had ever said anything that might mean…

 “Guan Yu, did the Shinto gods think I’d be staying?”

 “I suspect,” he said, “that not even Amaterasu would suggest that a tourist visa was worth a trip to an afterlife.  That quest was her price to welcome a son of Poseidon into the Shinto pantheon.”

 I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.  The Shinto court had been weirdly welcoming, after the initial hiccups, but I’d known the Uke-Mochi thing was a big deal.  Takama-ga-Hara wasn’t Olympus and the kami were not Olympians, so I hadn’t questioned why I had an open invitation to the Palace of the Sun even before the three of us had gotten together.

 It looked like I should have, because apparently that gate had been opened because they were treating me like a god.

 “I need to go back,” I said shakily.  I had to know if they’d expected forever.  I needed to know if I’d left them behind.

 “I actually cannot think of anything that would embarrass the queen more,” Guan Yu said, stroking his beard again.  “I wouldn’t normally stop you, but there would be consequences you should be aware of. The Olympian court… did not agree to the treaty proposal.”

 Something in his tone stopped me from just cab-whistling for Blackjack and heading back the way I’d come.  But still…“Of course not, why would my dad give me up for adoption? And I’m twenty-one, that shouldn’t even be a thing.”

 “Zeus vowed that if Ryujin made you a god, the West would go to war.”

 Huh.

 That yuki-onna had come back and had frozen my whole body.  

 “That’s…”  When I’d found my voice, I shook my head.  “That’s stupid.  They wouldn’t have-”

 “It was not a bluff.”  His voice was calm and certain.  “Every war god in the world was able to feel the potential for conflict, until you left Takama-ga-hara this morning.  The Shinto let you leave, and World War Three did not start.”

 I couldn’t say anything.

 “It was close,” he said, gazing at the distant horizon, politely ignoring the look on my face.  “When the balance of history rests on a knife-edge, it is… noticeable. Like the taste of a looming thunderstorm.  I did not think Amaterasu capable of making an unselfish choice, but we do not go to war today.”

 That sounded like the kami had actually considered going to war over this, which was both a terrible idea and probably answered most of the questions I’d have asked.  And I’d picked up enough about the attitudes towards my family from other pantheons to see how it could have escalated from there.

 None of them wanted Olympus to gain a foothold near their borders.

 “Why would Zeus do that, though?” I asked blankly, rubbing my face.  “Dad kind of made it sound like we’re about to have our own problems.”

 “I was not present at the meeting, and you would know more about your internal politics than I would.”

 We fell silent after that, letting the wind and the sea pull us farther south as I tried to process everything he’d just dumped on me.

 Eventually, I asked, “So what now?”

 “Are you still returning to the West?”  He read the answer on my face. “Then hope your father is worthy of your loyalty.  You will find refuge in the Taoist court, should you ever need it.”

 “I won’t.”  Dad wouldn’t have asked me to come home, otherwise.

 “Perhaps not from the Olympians,” he conceded doubtfully.  “But as you said, your pantheon may soon have its own difficulties.”

 I hesitated, then nodded.  I didn’t think I’d be able to use it- if whatever my dad was calling me home for was as bad as the last war, I’d be there fighting- but it was the thought that counted, right?

 “And even if you never return here,” he said, “Guanyin has asked me to pass on a message, if you’ll let me switch hats for a bit.”

 “Guanyin?  Why?” I asked, before a book popped into existence and fell on my head.  I fumbled and caught it before it hit the ground, and looked at the cover.

 ‘Buddhism for Dummies.’

 Written in Ancient Greek, even.  Someone wanted to make sure I’d actually read the thing.  Or was just being nice- Guanyin was pretty well known for that.

 I held up the book and raised my eyebrows at Guan Yu.  “You’re suggesting I convert?”

 “All things are impermanent,” the bodhisattva said.  “You have a duty to your family in this life. In the next one, you may be freer.”

 I looked at the cover again.  The Buddha and bodhisattvas didn’t really make up a pantheon as I thought of one.  There were no Buddhists organizing storms or driving suns across the sky, although like Guan Yu, a lot of Taoist and Shinto gods also had places in the Buddhist temples.  Instead, they were more like social workers. They were worried about helping people escape a cycle of suffering, not about running the world around them.

 “I’m pretty sure I have an afterlife lined up.”

 “Yes,” he said blandly.  “I believe your heroes’ paradise is accessible after your third lifetime lived as a hero?”

 “Yeah.”

 He smiled slowly.  “What makes you so sure you’re on your first?”

 I blinked. “I mean, it’s really likely.  Getting to the Isles of the Blest is like winning Good Person Powerball.  At best, I’m probably heading for Elysium.”

 “You do have a knack for beating the odds.”  Guan Yu raised his eyebrows. “Are you certain this is your first or second time living as a hero?”

 I… couldn’t be certain, no.  I pictured it. Death, however it eventually came, and the Isles of the Blest.

 Forever.

 I looked back at the book in my hand.  A near-endless cycle of rebirth before attaining enlightenment didn’t sound bad, actually.

 “Consider it,” he said, clapping a huge hand on my shoulder.  “You don’t need to decide anytime soon. Right now, draw your sword.  Your reaction time there was disgraceful.”

 I immediately tossed the book over my shoulder and caught it by a trailing rope, and got Riptide uncapped just in time to deflect his guan dao.

 I relaxed and let myself get caught up in the flow of the spar, ignoring everything we’d just talked about in favor of fighting one of the best fighters, divine or otherwise, that China had ever produced.

 Later, I’d have to think about this.  Have to figure out what Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi had actually been saying to me for the last year, and what they’d actually expected.

 Later.

---

 

Poseidon sped towards the South Pacific as fast as his diminished powers could propel him.  Percy’s ship fell rapidly behind him, until it was gone and there was nothing of his realm in the range of his senses.  Finally, mercifully, his territory rose in front of him, and he could feel his awareness of the waters around him expanding.

 He was feeling almost himself again when he pulled up short, grimacing.

 Poseidon.  You missed our meeting.

 In the water he had been about to pass through there materialized an enormous Eastern dragon, with a golden mane and backwards-pointing antlers that shifted to golden scales on his serpentine body and stubby legs.  

 “Ryujin,” he acknowledged.  They were both skipping the titles today, apparently.  That probably meant something to Ryujin that Poseidon didn’t actually care about enough to analyze.

 “We have unfinished business, and your family has rejected my generous terms,” Ryujin said.  “Do they dictate how you rule your realm often?”

 “A plan that relied on Percy forsaking his family never had a chance,” Poseidon said coldly.

 “Do you think not?”  The other sea god smiled.  For a dragon, baring the teeth was never intended as a friendly expression.  “The current drinking age in Japan is twenty years old.  I mentioned that little trick with alcohol to Percy after Inari and Susano’o got him spectacularly drunk on his last night in Tokyo.”

 Poseidon tried not to show that the barb had hit home.  He doubted he succeeded.

 “But he still said no.  Olympus will defend his right to return home.”

 “Is that how you intend to justify your current round of warmongering?”

 “There won’t be anything to justify,” Poseidon said, “unless you attempt to prevent Percy from answering my summons.”

 Ryujin shrugged, the motion rippling in waves down his body.  “Your lord has already rejected my proposal on your behalf. What reason would I have to delay him?”

 The realization struck Poseidon like one of his brother’s thunderbolts, and he fought to keep his expression neutral.  Ryujin didn’t know.  That treaty proposal had been genuine.

 “Then we have no quarrel today.”

 Ryujin snorted softly.  “As touching as this… belated concern is, the demigod is not the source of this conflict.”

 Poseidon extended his hand to allow his trident to materialize and smiled grimly.  It wasn’t often that he got the last word in verbal argument with the old worm.

 “The borders will remain in place.  We will not war over those waters.”

 It wasn’t as though he needed them anymore.

 The water around Ryujin stilled in shock as Poseidon raised his trident and assumed his true form.  It was harder, here where their waters mixed, but Ryujin did not and would never have the power to keep him where he did not wish to be.

 A flex of power, and Poseidon was once more all of the seas of the West.  Another, and he was also in a meeting room in Hermes’ palace on Mount Olympus.

 “-and we just won the space race, can we be happy about that for five minutes?” Hephaestus was saying as Poseidon joined them and took the empty seat at the oval conference table.  

 Perhaps unconsciously, the other gods had arrayed themselves in the same order as in the throne room, with Zeus and Hera at the head of the table and Poseidon between Zeus and Hades and across from Hestia.

 “Poseidon.  Finally,” Zeus grumbled.  “What kept you?”

 “Ryujin.”

 “Are the oceans at war now?” Hades asked, eyebrows high.

 “Are you certain about your son?” Demeter asked, ignoring Hades completely.

 “Yes.  Percy is a god.  Sailing and exploration already, and likely spaceflight as well,” Poseidon said quietly as his family fell silent.

 It could not have been a surprise.  Although it was possible to cloud Apollo’s sense of truth (and most of them had started doing so automatically after the brat had gone through that phase where he insisted on pointing out every single white lie anyone said), it took power that Poseidon had not had that far East.  

 Still, to hear it confirmed from the horse-father’s mouth was different.

 Poseidon added, “It isn’t exactly unexpected.  If we hadn’t sworn our oath, it probably would have happened sooner.”

 The US-Russia space race had come too early, or perhaps Percy had been born too late.  Perhaps Poseidon’s next-born mortal child was always supposed to have filled the position.

 Their pantheon had gods for travel, trade and war, but they had never needed a god for exploration, because there was no undiscovered territory.  Every possible frontier already had its own local gods and the humans to worship them.  Every possible frontier, that was, until the one that opened up after the Second World War.

 The manned space programs of the West had gained momentum, buoyed by a wave of enthusiasm and inspiration, with launches blessed by patron gods… and then the inspiration had faded and turned elsewhere.  Research slowed and became maintenance and, eventually, decommissioning, usually without replacement.

 The enthusiasm was swelling again, after decades of stagnation, but the West had squandered its lead.  China had manned space flight and a space station in the works, and India and Japan both had full launch capability.  The space race was no longer just a competition between the countries under the influence of the Greek gods.

 “How long until Percy Jackson is back in the West?” Hera asked.

 “A week or thereabouts, if he doesn’t hit any rough seas,” Poseidon said, “and I don’t think Ryujin intends to interfere.  The treaty proposal seems genuine. He hasn’t noticed what Percy is yet.”

 Left unsaid was the certainty that if he did, Percy would not leave the East at all.  The first pantheon to hold a god of spaceflight would simply have to great an advantage over their rivals to allow him to return.

 “He won’t get the chance to leave again,” Zeus said grimly.  “Hermes, relay the order when you are able.”

 Hermes saluted with two fingers.  “Gladly.”

 “He’ll go up, if he can’t go out,” Poseidon said, finally letting himself see the humor in the situation.  He glanced at his brother. “You’re going to have to let him fly.”

 Zeus’s expression became even sourer.  “We’ll see.”

 Not entirely unexpected, but annoying all the same.  Zeus was going to have to get over himself if he wanted a Mars expedition.

 “It will be good to see Percy again,” Aphrodite said, with her gaze lingering on Ares.  “His love life has gotten so interesting.  It’s been a long time since a love had the potential to begin a war.”

 “Why would you visit him?” Poseidon asked blandly.  “Remember, we have withdrawn from the world, and for good reason.  Our children are to be seen and not heard. It's high time we went back to the traditional values.”

 There was a beat of incredulous silence, before Hermes said, “Sorry, you’re not actually expecting that to work, are you?”

 “Leave him alone,” Poseidon said, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his trident.  “Dionysus, how long did it take you to burn through your body and ascend to Olympus, once you made your first grapevine and were proclaimed a god?  Less than a decade, even after growing up as a normal demigod, wasn’t it?”

 “Not soon enough,” the wine god sniffed.

 “He has already rejected immortality multiple times.  Let him live his mortal life for as long as possible. I cannot stop you from visiting, but I ask as his father that you not tell him what he is, and that you keep it quiet.”  Poseidon let his gaze linger on Apollo, who he knew would go to the Muses as soon as the meeting was adjourned. He could only hope that the gossip would stop there.

 “Sure thing, Unc,” Apollo said cheerfully.  Poseidon was not reassured.

“You do not seem enthused about this, brother,” Hestia said quietly, studying him from across the table.  She was likely the only other member of the council to notice or care that Percy had explicitly disavowed his destiny.

 He shrugged in response.  He would have preferred that Percy desire divinity, as Dionysus once had, but the Fates would not be denied.  And, of course-

 “My son will not die.  It’s a good day.”

 He could not regret this, but Poseidon would still keep Percy ignorant as long as possible.  It might delay the inevitable, it might not, but it was all he could do for him now.

 

---

 

I stared at the go board in bafflement.  I didn’t think there were any useful moves left, which meant I could safely resign without an in-depth explanation on where I could have played… which just left the explanation on where I’d gone wrong in the game.  (I was usually pretty sure that the answer was ‘starting to play’.)

 “I’ve lost,” I finally said, after I was almost sure that putting a stone down anywhere would just be driving up his final score.

 To my relief, Guan Yu nodded.  “You recognized it sooner this time.  You’re improving.”

 I grimaced.  Guan Yu wasn’t the first god to try to teach me how to play this game, but he was the most persistent.  I didn’t have the attention span to be a decent player and probably never would. He, on the other hand, thought I needed to be a better strategist, and I’d decided not to argue with a war god about the need.

 Much.

 And, well, we’d sparred enough today that we were both fed up with it, and I’d never managed to get him interested in video games.  Guan Yu had been hanging around all day, and we needed something to do.

 “Hang on,” I said as he started to rearrange the board to a previous layout.  I wasn’t just stalling; the water around us was changing. “We’re leaving Ryujin’s territory.”

 It was hard to explain, like trying to describe how a color sounded, but the water around us was taking on the flavor of home and family and the-enemies-I-know that I’d never noticed until it was gone.  For the first time in nearly two years, the Firefly was entering Western waters.

 “Yes,” Guan Yu said calmly.  “I will remain with you for a bit longer.”

 “Thanks, but why?”  Even though there were a few million Buddhists and Taoists in Indonesia, I was pretty sure we were well outside of his comfort zone.

 He held up a finger in the ‘wait for it’ position.

 Then, we left Ryujin’s waters behind completely, and a presence materialized on the top deck.  Guan Yu raised his eyebrows.

 Oh.

 I closed my eyes, sighed, and stood up.  My ‘voice’, the same power that let me talk to fish, horses, and pretty much anything on a ship, resonated around us.

 Lord Hermes.  Welcome aboard.

 As I headed for the ladder, Hermes looked around the Firefly , face grim, and muttered, “He was right.”

 As soon as I got to the top deck, the snakes on Hermes’ caduceus came to life. George hissed, Percy!  It’s been a while!

 You’ve caused some trouble, dear, Martha chimed in.

 “’Caused’ is not the word I’d use,” I said.  “Hi, George. Hi, Martha. What can I do for you, Lord Hermes?”

 “I can’t have just dropped by to chat?” Hermes asked.  He swept past me and looked down into the living room, and his lips tightened.

 Guan Yu saluted him with a cup of newly-conjured tea.  (He’d ignored Inari’s gift completely, when I’d offered him some.)  “Lord Hermes. What a surprise to see you so promptly.”

 “Guan Gong.  You’re a bit far from home,” Hermes said as he jumped into the living room on winged feet, skipping the ladder entirely.  I didn’t think I was imagining the underlying threat there, but George and Martha weren’t in laser mode. Which was good, I didn’t really want to test the Firefly’s durability against that much force.

 “Not so far as all that, thief-god,” Guan Yu said with a serene smile.  “Multiculturalism is a wonderful phenomenon, wouldn’t you agree?”

 “You’ve delivered Poseidon’s son home,” Hermes said coldly, ignoring my sputtered “I’m not a package” from behind him, “and Olympus thanks you.  You have no further business in these waters.”

 “There are still debts of honor owed.”  Guan Yu let his gaze drift back to me. “I have business here until I know that repayment is not needed today.”

 “It isn’t,” Hermes said, still stone-faced.

 Really now, you’re not suggesting we’d smite the poor boy as soon as he got home, are you? Martha asked.

 Guan Yu took a pointed sip of tea, still looking at me.  And it’s not that I didn’t appreciate the offer to throw down with an Olympian on my behalf, but that would burn bridges I wasn’t ready to lose.

 And also might start a world war, and no, I wasn’t about to get over that any time soon.

 I shook my head at him.

 Guan Yu let the silence stretch for a long, contemplative minute, and then nodded.  “Very well. Then I will take my leave.”

 He rose to his feet and started glowing.  “I wish you the best, Percy. Please consider my suggestion.   You will always have a place among us.”

 I looked away automatically and ignored the brief presence of his true form on the Firefly . When I turned my awareness back to where he had been, I found that he’d left the go board behind.

 I wasn’t sure who he thought I’d get to play me out here.  Maybe I could teach Blackjack.

 He’s a rude one, isn’t he? George hissed.

 Didn’t even pick up after himself! Martha agreed.

 “What brings you here today, Lord Hermes?” I asked, hoping against hope that we could ignore the elephant in the room.

 “A message from Zeus,” Hermes said.  His face looked like it was carved out of marble and his eyes were steely grey as he studied the remnant of that last game.  His gaze drifted from the carpet it was placed on, to the Honjo Masamune’s stand on a shelf, and from there to the dragonfly curled up on the softly glowing feather on the wall next to it, before turning to me.  “By the order of the king of the gods, you may not leave Poseidon’s waters. Stay in the West.”

 The air in the ship around us stilled.  My sails went rigid, and the ship ignored the wind and the waves to go motionless in the water as Hermes’ grip on his caduceus tightened.

 I could barely hear myself over the ringing in my ears as I said, “Just until this next prophecy is over?”

 “Until given permission otherwise.”

 “I didn’t know I had a leash.”

 “Until you jumped the fence, we didn’t know you needed one,” Hermes snapped.  “You nearly started a world war, Percy. It can’t happen again.”

 “I nearly started a war?  Really?” I said, knowing I was courting a smiting and really not caring, “because it kind of sounds like that didn’t need to get escalated.”

 “Do you really think they’d have let you go without the threat?” he asked derisively.  “With as much as they had riding on you staying?”

 “Yes.”

 “Then you’re naïve,” he said.  “Amaterasu literally sent you to their underworld.  It should have shown you what she’s capable of.”

 “At least I wasn’t twelve years old that time.”

 He paused, and then sighed, deflating slightly.  After a second, he leaned against the cabin wall.  “It’s… not really the same.”

 “Because Poseidon is my father.”  It wasn’t a question. The only real difference was that I was a Greek demigod, not a Japanese one.

 Hermes answered with a shrug.  It might as well have been an agreement.  I took a few deep breaths, and let the wind furl the sails on the top deck again.  The ship started moving.

 “Lord Hermes, what is this really about?” I finally asked.  “This shouldn’t have gone as far as it did, but I wouldn’t have said yes if Ryujin asked me directly.  You know that.”

 He looked at me for a long minute, and then sighed again.  The last of the tension left his frame as he rubbed his face.  “Percy, remember the Great Prophecy. You were born to make a choice that would save or destroy us.”

 “So?”

 “So we needed you, and that’s annoying,” he said.  “You don’t quite get yet how irritating it is.  It’s a reminder that for all of our power, there are still things we cannot do.  You decided to save us, and then we looked away for a bit, and when we looked back we found out that you’d sailed away without a second thought.  You’d gone off to be a hero on the other side of the world and won the reward we tried to give you all over again.

 “Actions speak louder than words, you know.  In the end, it really doesn’t matter whether you’d accept Ryujin’s offer or not, because what you’ve just said loud and clear is that you don’t need us in return.”

 It’d probably be best not to say anything there.  I’d missed my dad, but the random quests that the gods tended to single me out for?  Not really. A life without the Olympians in it had made my last years of high school a lot easier.

 Hermes took my silence for what it was worth.

 “Congratulations, Percy.  This was the biggest ‘fuck you’ we’ve gotten since Tantalus chopped up his son and tried to feed him to us, and you weren’t even trying.  That takes talent. You’re lucky we like you.”

 Lucky they still needed me, he meant.

 “That too,” Hermes said, and gave me a grim smile as he started to glow.  “Stay in the West. And welcome home.”

 He disappeared.

---

 

Author’s notes:

Before I get a bunch of reviews informing me that I fail geopolitics forever… yes, Poseidon’s narration intrinsically treats the US-Soviet Union space race as a competition between powers in the ‘West’, in the context of ‘countries under the influence of the Greco-Roman pantheon’.  Russia is historically and culturally a Christian European power, and Riordan made Stalin a son of Hades. In-story, their influence waxes and wanes in the various parts of the former Soviet Union, depending on local culture, but communism is as much a ‘western’ system of government as capitalism, and the relevant divinities considered the space race of the Cold War to be healthy internal competition.

 On a different note, it’s probably obvious by now that I’m using the trip to the ancient lands in the ‘travelogue’ section to cut down on the amount of stuff I’ll have to cover in the Giant War sections of the story.  It is amazing how much of Mark of Athena you can skip if you let Annabeth know that ‘hey, we need to head to the Tiber first thing.’  I’ll stop re-treading the Heroes of Olympus series after he leaves Greece, I promise.

 

Mythology Notes:

 Santa Maria de Cosmedin- A minor basilica church in Rome that houses a statue called the Bocca del Verita (Mouth of Truth).  The statue is shaped like an enormous coin with a carved face and an open mouth. A local legend says that if you place your hand in the mouth of the statue and make a false oath, the statue will bite down and sever the hand.  

 ‘Horrible men’- The Vandals, who sacked Rome in 455 AD.  I have given the long-dead landlord of the shrine more of a backstory than is supported in MoA, where Hagno just says he ‘moved away’.

 Go / weiqi / baduk - The boardgame.  The game was invented in China and spread to the surrounding countries, but the Japanese name go is most common in the west, so it’s what I’ll be using.  A fun picture of Guan Yu playing go while having an arrow pulled out of his arm like a boss is at his wikipedia page.

 Bodhisattva- Mahayana Buddhism is one of the major branches of Buddhism and the branch that most Chinese and Japanese Buddhist schools are descended from.  In Mahayana Buddhism, a bodhisattva is any person, mortal or otherwise, that has formally vowed to work for the enlightenment of all sentient beings alongside their own enlightenment. When I use the term I will almost always be using it to refer to the powerful bodhisattvas of Buddhist legend, art, and literature- the ones comparable to deities in ceremonial and cultural importance- but the term has a meaning and religious significance that is outside the scope of an author’s note in a fanfiction.

 In this chapter, we see Guan Yu working towards Percy’s eventual enlightenment by actively encouraging him to extend his personal cycle of suffering.  Guan Yu also has a pretty good handle on his intended audience.

 Guan Yu in Chinese Buddhism- Guan Yu is known as Sangharama Bodhisattva.  He is sworn to protect the Buddhist way and teachings and is one of the primary guardians of the temple and it’s grounds.  The legend folding Guan Yu into Chinese Buddhism is pretty straightforward- his spirit manifested in front of the Zen master Zhiyi in 592 AD and just flat-out asked to be taught.  His education culminated in the vow to protect the Buddhist dharma and temples. Guan Yu then helped Zhiyi build a temple on the hill he’d been meditating on when Guan Yu found him.

 Guanyin / Kuanyin -The Chinese representation of the bodhisattva of mercy and compassion, known as Kannon in Japan.  She is one of the most widely revered figures in Buddhism and pops up in a lot of literature and legends, perhaps most notably in the Chinese epic Journey to the West.  

 

Chapter Text

Here’s the next chapter, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed or contributed to the TV Tropes page!

 

---

 

Mid-February, two years after the Second Olympian War

Blackjack and I spent the Solstice catching up with friends and family we hadn’t seen in months, and came back to Italy after New Years.  We didn’t spend more than a week in each of the countries between Italy and Greece; I’d be back someday, probably, and would do an in-depth visit to Central Europe, but my visit home had gotten us enthusiastic about Greece and we’d started hurrying.  I didn’t just have tourist suggestions from Annabeth and Rachel this time- I had lists. From pretty much each cabin at camp.  

We had sailed out the Gulf of Corinth yesterday after spending a few days checking Delphi and some other shrines off of the combined bucket list.  We’d spend the next couple of days sailing down the Peloponnesian peninsula towards Olympia, the site of the original Olympic Games, with a fly-by of Sparta so Ares cabin would shut up about it.  From there we would be going island-hopping to Crete and the Cyclades Archipelago for a couple of weeks before heading back to the mainland.

“That doesn’t look good,” I said, looking at the horizon.  There was a thick bank of clouds to the west, and coming up on us quickly.  

It’s moving faster than the ones we went through on the way to Ireland, Blackjack said, walking up next to me.

I pulled out the spare sailcloth to make a tent for Blackjack, and then looked at Mrs. O’Leary, who would need a lot of sailcloth, and whose weight would be a problem if the waves got high enough.  “Get into the shadows, girl.  I’ll call when we’re through the storm.”

She barked and nosed her way into the tent behind Blackjack, then disappeared from my sense of the ship.  I took in the square topsail on the main mast and started beating to windward as the rain started.

Fifteen minutes later, I ducked into the tent to get out of the wind for a bit.  “Are you doing okay here, Blackjack?”

Blackjack was looking a little seasick, but said, I’m fine, boss. 

“It’s past lunchtime.  Do you want anything to eat?”

Not yet.  How’s the ship doing?

“We’re being blown a bit farther away from land than I’d planned, but nothing major.  A winter squall’s not a problem.”

The words hung in the air just long enough for me to regret them.

Oh, really?

It wasn’t so much a whisper as a feeling, the sure and certain knowledge that the storm was awake and aware and that I’d just gotten its complete attention.

Then the wind picked up.  

I ran back outside and got a face full of cold water.  I was soaked immediately, more worried about the wave half the height of the main mast coming towards us than about willing myself dry.  I threw my arms open and the wave split, passing harmlessly.  I did the same with the next, and the next, until I finally got annoyed enough to start summoning giant fists of water for each new wave and punching back.

Even though I was countering the largest waves, the increased choppiness of the sea meant I had to stabilize the Firefly using the water under us, tilting us in the opposite direction each time we were pushed on one side.  I hadn’t needed to do this since teaching Mrs. O’Leary her boat manners.  Dividing my attention like that was costing us, though, and Blackjack was having trouble keeping his balance in the tent behind me from the ship’s tossing.

I gritted my teeth and reached into my sense of the ship around me, becoming the Firefly in a way I’d never really needed to before.  My arms dropped as my sails snapped fully open.  I stopped punching the waves, and started dancing between them instead.

The thing about storm waves is they’re not very long.  They can get tall, if the wind is strong enough, but I was moving fast enough and reacting quickly enough to get out of the way.

I know you’re there, I told the storm after smoothing our course for a few minutes, mental voice rolling across the deck and into the air around us in a way my lungs simply couldn’t manage over the howling wind.  I’d never done this before- never talked to a ship the way I could towards fish and horses- but it came as naturally as sailing had.  And I knew I still had the attention of the something that was directing this whole mess. 

The wind got a bit faster, like it was annoyed at being called out, and just ahead of me the waves spun into a waterspout that gradually swirled into the shape of a woman.  The goddess of this storm was twenty feet tall and glowing with an eerie white luminescence, with hair that reminded me of a jellyfish’s tentacles.  

She set my teeth on edge.  It wasn’t even her appearance, which was just inhuman enough to be unsettling- features a bit too delicate, eyes a bit too bright, a smile like she’d been practicing and hadn’t quite mastered the art.  I got the feeling I’d have been creeped out no matter what she looked like.  Something about her spoke directly to the part of me that was the Firefly, and I didn’t like what it was saying.

Ship-wrecker.

Storm-maker.

Rival.  Opponent.  Nemesis. 

And, maybe most depressingly,

Sister.

Storms were an aspect of Poseidon’s power.  This lady was probably part of the family. 

“Hubris has consequences, Perseus Jackson.”  Her voice was harmonious and borderline painful, with overtones so high-pitched I couldn’t hear them being spoken, just feel them in my sinuses.  “Even our father’s favored son cannot escape them.”

“It’s my first offense, though,” I lied.  “And I was wrong, it’s a very impressive storm.  I love what you’ve done with the waves.”

“Thank you.”  She was keeping a constant distance from the Firefly, feet still engulfed in a small moving waterspout.

“And I know ripping apart ships is, like, kind of your thing, but I need this one.  All my stuff is on it.  I don’t suppose you’d be willing to accept an apology?”

A pleased smile flickered across the goddess’s face.  “You know who I am.”

“You’re the Ship-wrecker.”  I knew that, as certainly as I knew when to turn to avoid the next wave.  “Sorry, I’m absolutely terrible at names.”

Her smile grew, and the whirlpool at her feet turned into a waterspout that raised her to the bow of the Firefly.  She floated onto my ship.  Touched down.

Stopped dead.

The wind died down.  The waves settled.  For a brief few seconds, the storm was still.

Then our surroundings came back to life, and the goddess started laughing.  It sounded weirdly like dolphin chatter, and I wondered if she’d ever met Chrysaor’s men.  Probably, they’d been sailors on the Mediterranean for thousands of years.    

“Oh, this is priceless,” she said between giggles.  “I know who you are, little brother.”

“And it’s always a pleasure to meet relatives on Dad’s side of the family,” I said, deciding that whatever had gotten into the lady was less important than the gale she was still hitting me with.  “So, about this storm?”

“Am I the first to notice?” she asked me, then continued without waiting for an answer.  “I must be, or this would have been all over the West.  Even in exile I would have heard.   Sailor.  Star-farer.  Lord of the Frontier.  I know you, Perseus.  I am Kymopoleia, goddess of the violent storm, and our battles will be legendary.”

“...right, I’m gonna call you Kym,” I said slowly.  “What was that about battles?”

Kym’s smile was just a little too sharp.  “Survive, little brother.”

And she whirled into a gust of wind, and was gone.

I stared dumbly at the spot where she’d been standing for a few seconds.  Then my ears popped.  

Styx.

I raised my dog whistle and blew, summoning Mrs. O’Leary into the quickly developing hurricane as I poked my head back into Blackjack’s tent.

So, negotiations fell through?

“They did,” I said, as dryly as possible in the pouring rain.  “I need you guys to get back to Delphi.  I’ll whistle for Mrs. O’Leary when it’s over.”

As soon as they were gone I collapsed the tent and lashed myself to the mast.  I stopped paying attention to my physical body as I danced, dodged, and more than once surfed through the intensifying storm.  I’d given up making any progress today and turned around, running in front of the wind.

I wasn’t going in a straight line anymore- visibility was terrible, but I knew where I was on the ocean, and over the rest of the day I spiraled out and away from the eye of the cyclone that had formed over me.  I kept as much sail on as possible to get the speed to keep away from the center of the storm.  Hurricane Kym, meanwhile, tried to move fast enough to keep me in the worst of the winds.   

The sun was probably setting- not that I could really tell- when I saw a dim light off the starboard bow.  A lighthouse, the one marking Cape Araxas if I was remembering the map correctly, which meant I was heading back towards the Gulf of Corinth and had been pushed out of the Ionian sea entirely.  On the plus side, there were a couple of ports nearby, once I got past the cape.

I aimed to my port side, away from the rocks and shallows the lighthouse was warning about, and on a course that would eventually take me to safe harbor at Messolonghi on the far side of the gulf.  I was going against the tide, but the winds were more than strong enough for that not to matter.  I was almost ready to relax when Kym decided to throw one final curveball my way, and the water ahead of me dropped down into a massive whirlpool.

“Oh, come on, that’s cheating,” I hollered into the wind, and was answered by the laughter of dolphins.  

The thing about ship-killer whirlpools is that they’re… well, mythical.  To get a vortex that would threaten anything bigger than a rowboat, you needed a Charybdis.  Or, apparently, a Kymopoleia.

I circled the outer rim of the whirlpool once, rudder straining to keep the Firefly from getting sucked in, before I had the wind in my sails and had picked up enough momentum to shoot away.  I had to course-correct away from the cape again and scraped my sides on some of the closer rocks, but made it past the lighthouse without damaging anything but my paint job.  

I didn’t try to cross the channel again, just kept on sailing for a few more miles to the port at Patras.  As the Firefly finally passed into safe harbor, the storm sighed behind me.

Why weren’t you born millenia ago, little brother?  Songs could have been sung of this contest that would have echoed through the ages.  Who today will remember the sailor and the storm?

I let my awareness riffle through the ships in the harbor.  Every slip was full, often with ships larger than they technically should have held, with sailors on most of them anxiously listening to weather reports on the hurricane that had developed out of nowhere.  I also knew that not every ship on the Ionian Sea had made it to a port in the storm.

Believe me, I said grimly, they’ll remember this.

The storm gave a final delighted giggle, and I felt the consciousness behind it disappear.  The cyclone remained, ready to head inland and cause flooding and wind damage until Kym’s power faded.  I dropped anchor and furled my sails, and finally let the ropes holding me to the mast loosen.  

I went below deck, drying myself off automatically as I listened to the weather reports on the ships around me.  Some of the ships hadn’t been secured well enough, or were being banged up against the pier from the storm waves, or had any of a dozen other problems that I fixed as I noticed them. 

None of the ships in this port would take any more damage from the storm tonight.  It was, unfortunately, all I could do.

I stayed awake until the worst of the storm had passed, then sent Blackjack an Iris Message to let him know I was alive, collapsed into my bunk, and fell asleep for twelve hours.

---

 

Blackjack pumped his wings harder, finally bringing us higher than the summit of Mytikas Peak, the tallest peak on the mountain.  We circled for a bit, until I saw a spot where the snow-covered ground was flat enough for him to land and get back into the air easily.  I tapped his shoulder and pointed, and soon we were on the ground.  

We took in the view for a minute in silence, until Blackjack said quietly, We made it.  Not that I was worried, but…

“Yeah,” I said in the same tone.  Trying this hadn’t gone well for Pegasus and Bellerophon.

Olympus.  The Olympus, the original mountain.  

Like at Atlas’s old mountain back in Morocco, there wasn’t much here to show what it had once been.  Everything important- the thrones, the palaces, the very trees and their spirits -looked like it had left with the gods, more than two thousand years ago when Olympus moved to Rome.  

It felt… odd that there wasn’t anything here.  I guess I’d thought that the weight of the Western World would have left more of a mark, even on a mountain that predated it by eons. 

“Satisfied?” I asked as I dismounted.  I wasn’t the only one with a bucket list from their friends.  This part of the trip had been Blackjack’s idea.

Pictures, boss.  We still need pictures.  No-one’s going to believe this otherwise.

“We’re not the first, actually,” I said, leaning against his shoulder.  “Humans have scaled the summit already.  A lot.  There’s a hiking trail somewhere under all the snow.”

Those guys weren’t pegasi.  

I shrugged and pulled out my phone, setting it to video.  “Get back in the air, then, and I’ll get you circling the summit.”

An hour later and nine thousand feet lower, we were trying to find Mrs. O’Leary in the shrubby foothills of the mountain.  We were still above the snow line, and you’d think a black dog that big would be easy to see from the air.  You’d be wrong.

We were coming in for a landing near a rock outcrop with a convenient patch of shadow I could whistle her into when we finally heard her baying in the distance, south of where we’d left her. 

And then, from the same direction, another sound.

“REEEEET!”

“You’re kidding me,” I said flatly.  Blackjack snorted and broke off his landing run, turning south.  

So, did Daedalus train her to do this?  I know hellhounds are trackers, but usually they focus on demigods.

“Maybe she just likes tracking pigs?  Or she might be holding a grudge.”  We got high enough to see over the ridge of one of the foothills closer to Olympus, and found Mrs. O’Leary and her new friend.

It was a brown boar the size of an elephant- a bit smaller than Mrs. O’Leary, but no less dangerous for it.  It had thick black bristles on its back, oversized and disturbingly sharp looking tusks, hooves the size of dustbin lids, and was snorting and staring beadily at my dog.  

Mrs. O’Leary saw us in the sky and barked happily, wagging her tail, like she was saying, Look!  I found another monster for you to kill!  That’s how this works, right?

I sighed.  

We’re doing this again, aren’t we.

“We’re doing this again,” I confirmed.  

The boar pawed the ground and charged at Mrs. O’Leary.  This was her second rodeo, though, and she dodged like a champ and turned around to nip the boar’s flank.  The boar squealed, pivoted, and shot a bolt of lightning at her.

That was new. 

Mrs. O’Leary yelped at the shock and jumped into the shadow of a nearby rock when the boar charged at her again.  Once it was past the rock she popped out again, still barking.

So how are we doing this, boss? Blackjack asked.

Good question.  I had no weapon but Riptide, and I had no friendly automatons to sic on it or convenient cliffs to drop it off of this time.  “Did we fly over any ponds or streams that weren’t frozen over?  I’d like some water.”

Not that I saw.

I grimaced, and started concentrating.  “We’ll do it the hard way, then.”

Carefully, slowly, I called out to the sea within me.  I needed water, but not a hurricane.  Not the tidal wave that had erupted Mount St. Helens.  I’d never created water from thin air without my life being in danger before, but now seemed like a good time to try.

Gradually, a ball of water formed over my glove, the size of a grapefruit, then a bowling ball, then a beach ball.  As soon as it got big enough, I threw it at the pig to intercept it’s next shot at Mrs. O’Leary before the lightning could leave its mouth.  The boar squealed from the shock of its own electricity, and turned to run away.

It headed towards the mountain, probably to try to lose us in the forest, and it was fast.  Faster than the Twrch Trwyth had been, and faster than Mrs. O’Leary, who started to pop in and out of shadows to catch up when she got too far behind.  Once, that meant that she came out in front of the boar, only to jump straight back into the shadow of her tree when it charged at her.

“Get me over the neck, Blackjack, as low as you can.  I’m getting off.”

Right, boss.

Blackjack caught up to the boar easily and dove.  I shifted so I was riding sideways on his back and drew my sword.  At the bottom of Blackjack’s bombing run, about ten feet above the boar, I positioned Riptide and jumped.

I landed perfectly on its spine, with all of my body weight pushing my sword through the boar’s spinal cord.  It squealed horribly and flung itself to the side as its back legs collapsed.  I grabbed onto the black bristles with my left hand to try to stay on, and immediately cursed and let go involuntarily.  That had hurt.  

I took a quick glance at my glove, which had been completely shredded.  The bristles on the boar’s back were razor-sharp, and even though I wasn’t injured, sharp things still weren’t fun.  My nerve endings had never gotten the message that they couldn’t be damaged anymore.  

The boar’s next jerk sent me flying off its back, fortunately taking Riptide with me.  I tucked and rolled to avoid the lightning bolt it shot at me, and got back to my feet while Mrs. O’Leary distracted it on its other side.  

 It was basically immobilized, and this wasn’t my first rodeo either.  I’d gotten some pretty good lessons on a pig’s weak spots.  I yelled, “Hey, Bacon Bits!  Were you the runt of the litter?”

That got its attention.  It ignored Mrs. O’Leary and turned back to me, mouth sparking.  It must have been hard, being the smallest monster pig in Greece.  

I ran at it, steeling myself against the pain as I jumped up and got an arm around its tusk, which was just as sharp as the razorback’s bristles.  The boar squealed and jerked its head back, giving me that much more height and momentum.  It opened its mouth one last time as I went for the eyes.

I drove my sword deep just as its final lightning bolt left its mouth.  The energy sent me sailing back twenty feet into a snowdrift, leaving Riptide buried in the monster’s skull.

“Ow.”  

Are you all right, boss? Blackjack called, circling down around the slowly deflating remains of the boar.

I managed to wave at him, and then decided to just... lie there for a bit, letting the snow melt on my face.  Mrs. O’Leary flopped down next to me and started panting, which helped with the melting a lot.

You now own a pigskin, Blackjack said, nudging the remains of the boar with his hooves.

I groaned and finally pulled myself to my feet, with some help from the dog, and staggered next to Blackjack.  The boar’s skin and the giant tusks were in two separate piles; the bristles had disappeared with the rest of the pig, fortunately, and the tusks didn’t look as sharp as before, but unlike when we’d killed the Nemean Lion, the spoils of war hadn’t shrunk at all.  It was still a pigskin the size of an elephant.

I still had no idea which monster this was, so I created a rainbow in a fountain of mist and made a quick call.

“Annabeth!”

She turned around, startled.  She was in the stacks of some library, without anyone else around that I could see.  “Percy?  Where are you this time?”

“We’re in the foothills of Mount Olympus. Can you help me figure out what I just killed?”

“I gave you a copy of Pliny for a reason, Seaweed-brain,” she said, raising her eyebrows.  “It has pictures, even.”

“Next time, I promise,” I said.  I squatted down and hauled the head up in both arms.  I couldn’t manage the rest of it.  “So, if I found a monster pig in Greece, and it’s not the Clazmonian Sow or the Erymanthian Boar, what would it be?”

Annabeth snorted and turned around.  It was nice of her not to laugh in my face, but I could see her shoulders shaking.  

After a few seconds, she turned back to us.  “Well… by process of elimination, and since it left the skin behind… probably the Calydonian Boar.  Atalanta and Meleagar killed it the first time in the Calydonian Boar Hunt.”

“And, just to check, are there any pigs I haven’t met yet?  In Greek mythology, I mean.”  Not that I’d told anyone about the Hunt in Ireland.  Hades had apparently told Nico to keep quiet about whichever gods he’d found in China, and although I didn’t know if there would be actual consequences for letting other demigods know that our parents weren’t the be-all and end-all of the mythical world, I didn’t really want to find out.

“That should be it,” she said, lips still twitching.  “Unless you wanted to find the Erymanthian Boar again to go for the hat trick.  Or the Clazmonian Sow comes back to life.  It’s been a couple of years, it might have happened already.”

Cheerful.  

We caught up with each other until the drachma ran out, and she waved good-bye as her image faded, saying “Thanks again for the Parthenon pictures!”

I poked at one of the tusks.  “What should we do with these?”

Why not just leave them here? Blackjack asked.

“This is a national park,” I pointed out.  “We’d be littering.”  

Well, I’m not carrying it home.

Mrs. O’Leary settled the question by flopping down onto the pigskin and starting to chew on the other tusk like a bone.  I did have giant novelty dog bones for her, but she went through them quickly and Daedalus’s original supplier was back in the States.  It was as good a solution as any, so I wrapped the tusks in the skin and told Mrs. O’Leary to go back to the Firefly.  She dragged the package into the shadows with her, looking very pleased with herself.  

“Let’s go home, Blackjack.”

---

---

 

 

Late August, five years after the end of the Second Olympian War

I woke up. 

Not from a dream this time, but because I could feel an intruder.  Someone had just manifested in the main room and was hurrying down the passageway, and after the meeting with Hermes this afternoon I really didn’t want to deal with anyone else from Dad’s side of the family.  And, of course, there was no guarantee this one was friendly.  I grabbed Riptide from the bedside table next to me as the goddess reached my door and threw it open.

“Finally!  I’m so glad to see you!  Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to show up?  Where were you, like, sixty years ago?  Thirty years ago, even!  Why weren’t you here when everything started?”

I blinked at her as she burst into the cabin, and turned the lights on with a thought.  She was about my height, brown-skinned with short curly black hair, and dressed in rhinestone-studded clinging jeans, sneakers, and a pink Olympus ‘08 concert t-shirt.  She looked vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t sure from where.

I was about to interject some witty comment, like ‘Huh?’, but she continued her rant too quickly. 

"I mean, the Mercury project went great, and the Apollo missions were fine except for that one time, but don’t get me started on the Challenger and the Columbia!  I knew they should have named them after a god!  Or even a demigod!  Jupiter blessed the Gemini project himself!  And after that I just couldn’t keep the momentum up, you know?  I tried, but it’s not my aspect!  There was no motivation!  So where were you?”

My mouth opened and closed, fishlike, before I managed a “Uh… I’m twenty-one?  I wasn’t born yet for… whatever happened sixty years ago.  And, um, who are you?”

“That’s no excuse!  You’re late!”  She grabbed the hand not holding the pen and started tugging, and I let her pull me out of bed, still incredibly confused.  “Come on, we’ve got to make up for lost time!  There’s so much you need to learn!”

“Um, it’s the middle of the night, and I’m in my underwear.”  Boxers, plain blue, no hearts or anything else embarrassing.  “What, exactly, do you want to teach me?”

“Of course it’s the middle of the night!  When else would we be able to do this?”  She began dragging me out of the cabin and towards the ladder with surprising strength.

“Look, lady-” no.  Deep breath.  Be polite to deities, for they are short-tempered and quick to transmogrify.  “-my lady, are you sure you’re in the right place?  I have no idea what you’re talking about, and-”

I inhaled sharply as we went through the hatch and the night sky spread out above us.  It was perfectly clear, the moon hung in the sky over our heads, and the stars were bright- brighter than they really should have been with the moon so full.

Anyone who has never been far enough away from city lights and civilization to actually see the stars is missing out on something incredible.  I’d gotten used to it sailing on the Firefly, but tonight I was amazed all over again. 

The goddess next to me had stopped to let me take it all in.  I turned to her, somehow sure that both the view and my regaining that sense of wonder were because of her.  Now that I was closer, I realized that what I’d thought were rhinestones on her jeans were actual pinpoints of light, and formed patterns that Annabeth had spent months teaching me.  Orion, Ursa Major, Cygnus the Swan… I even saw the Huntress.  Zoe.

And with that hint, I was finally able to figure out where I’d seen her before.  She and her sisters had either been the DJs or performing at every Olympian celebration I’d been to.

“You’re Urania.  The Muse of astronomy.”

She beamed at me.  “Of course I am!  And I am in exactly the right place, Percy Jackson.  Can you navigate by the stars?”

“Our coordinates are 10.22 South and 127.25 East, and heading for Darwin at 12.45 South and 130.8 East.  I always know where I am at sea.”

“That’s a no, right?  We’ll start there, then!  You’re a sailor!  You’re the sailor!   It’ll be easy!”  She pulled a star-studded globe and short rod out of nowhere and tapped some spots on the globe, and several stars above us suddenly sprouted a red halo.  “We’re too far south to use Polaris as a navigational star, but the Southern Cross is easy to find and has plenty that are bright enough to use!  You’ll need a good timepiece- what type of clock do you have?”

“My phone.  And, look, Lady Urania, if this is going to take a while, I need to get dressed.”  A random astronomy lesson was by no means the stupidest thing an immortal had asked me to go through, and her giddy excitement was contagious. 

(Come to think of it, that wasn’t surprising.  On this subject, she was inspiration personified.)

But although we were close enough to the equator for me to not usually care that it was still winter Down Under, the sea breeze was noticeably cool tonight.

She blinked and looked me up and down, maybe finally noticing that she’d hauled me out of bed without giving me time to get dressed, but then focused back on the sky, saying, “You don’t have to, I don’t mind!  We’ll make do with your phone tonight, but I’ll bring a Vulcan clock for you tomorrow.  And a sextant!  Every ship should have a sextant!”

“Urania.  You should not be here.”  

The voice echoed down from the sky, preceding the actual appearance of the child-shaped goddess that materialized in front of us.  Artemis.  As in, the goddess most likely to turn me into a jackalope for not wearing enough clothing.  The night just kept getting better. 

Fortunately, she seemed to care more about Urania, who looked like someone had turned her ‘cheerful’ switch off.  For just a second, the stars on her jeans flickered and the globe turned into a guitar before she stomped her foot and they came back.

“I have every right to be here, Huntress.  He should have been born decades ago.  I should not have been left alone to fail to take on a new aspect.”

“He is a son of Poseidon.”  She gave my dad’s name a weird emphasis.  “It is not yet your time.”

“Yes it is!  If not now, when?  He can accomplish so much in his mortal life!  Bacchus-”

 “Be silent!”  Her voice cracked like a whip and her hair suddenly changed to a deep black with a crescent moon ornament holding back her bangs.  They stared at each other for a long minute while I blended into the background as much as a mostly-naked guy carrying a sword-pen possibly could. 

Finally, Urania said, “His education is my right and my duty.  None of you can deny that.  The rules are different now.”

“Not those rules.  Not yet,” Artemis said grimly, and then added a grudging, “Apollo and I will support Juno’s proposal.  Until then, keep your distance.”

Urania’s lips tightened, but she nodded curtly.  “Fine.”

She turned back to me, and stuffed the set of blueprints she was suddenly carrying into my arms.  “These are the shuttle plans, and I’ve included my notes on what went wrong and who the design team managed to insult.  I’ll send your clock tomorrow.  We will meet soon, Percy Jackson, and there will be a test.”

With that, she stalked dramatically past me, jumped down the hatch, and disappeared before she hit the lower deck.

I looked at the papers in my arms, then back up at Artemis.  A half-dozen questions chased each other through my head, and so of course the first one that made it out of my mouth was “What’s up with your hair?”

Her hair flickered back to auburn and she grimaced, rubbing her forehead like she had a headache.  “Don’t ask.”

“...right,” I said.  “So, um... what was that about?  Why’d she decide I desperately need to learn astronomy?  Like, right now?  When we’ve never actually spoken to each other before?”

Artemis’s frown deepened.  “The Muses are impulsive and flighty at the best of times, and she has been waiting.  I advise you to begin studying, Percy Jackson.  A Muse will always get her way in her bailiwick, and it will be easier for you if she does not need to provide inspiration.”

I looked back down at the blueprints in my arms.  “Is this another prophecy?”

“No.  The first prophecy that controlled your life is completed; the next one has not yet begun.”

I didn’t actually like the sound of that any better.

“Urania had more of a… expectation,” Artemis said.  “Nature abhors a vacuum.  She is unable to perform a role needed by the modern world, and has been waiting to find someone to work with.”

“Why’s she focusing on me?  I’m not exactly the best student.  Why not one of Athena’s or Hephaestus’ kids, if she wants a helper?”

She looked at me thoughtfully.  “Poseidon has requested that none of us answer that question yet.  Some knowledge is dangerous.  You know that already- when a demigod learns about their heritage, monster attacks increase tenfold.  When you figure out the answer, your mortal life will end.  Not immediately, but probably painfully, and sooner than it would otherwise.”

She let that sink in, and then asked, “Do you still want to know?  We swore no oaths.  It’s more of an honor system.”

I swallowed.  “No.  I’m good.”

“Are you sure?  Not even a hint?”

 I shook my head.

“Then learn what she wants to teach you, and do not think on it further,” Artemis said dismissively, and started to turn away- and then suddenly, her hair turned black again. 

She turned back and added an icy, “You’ve proven yourself skilled at that.  Tsukuyomi, Jackson?  How in your father’s name did that seem like a good idea?”

And that brought back everything that had happened this afternoon, and the crawling sensation of restrictions that Hermes had left me with.  It wasn’t the first time, but this wasn’t just being told to avoid the Korean peninsula- this was being locked away from entire oceans. 

“I really don't think that's anyone else's business,” I said, voice clipped.

“It became our business when it caused a diplomatic incident,” she said. “It was-”

She stopped short. Her eyes trailed over me, and she inhaled slowly as her hair turned auburn one more time.  I tensed.

“You have joined the Wild Hunt.”

“Huh?”  I blinked, completely thrown by the turn in the conversation. “I mean, kind of accidentally, yeah.  A couple of Halloweens ago.”

Artemis closed her eyes and took a couple more deep breaths.

“You are a fool.”  It was calm, matter-of-fact, and more chilling than if she'd started shouting. 

“Once.  It was once.” 

“And yet you would still be compelled to ride if you heard their call.  Deliberate obtuseness can only excuse so much, Percy Jackson.”  

I resented the ‘deliberate’.

“This will have consequences.  Avoid their haunts, and do not be about when you know they will ride.”  She pivoted away, turning her face towards where the Moon Chariot cruised on autopilot above us.

“Okay, seriously, I’ve already been doing that, I don’t need to be told-”

“And stay in the West.”

She disappeared.

I dumped the blueprints in my hands on the deck with a strangled sound of frustration.

Are you okay, boss? Blackjack asked as he walked over from the bow of the ship.  

“Fine,” I snapped, then stopped and took a deep breath.  Blackjack didn’t deserve that.  “I’m fine.  When did you wake up?” 

I hadn't been paying attention to anything but the goddesses mid-ship, so I actually wasn’t sure.

Around when Artemis started shouting at the other one.  What was that about?

I shook my head.  “They were arguing about astronomy lessons and whether I should get them.  Apparently it'll kill me to find out why.”

I heard that bit.  Why does Artemis care?  And what was up with the hair thing?

I shrugged.  He snorted and said, I miss China already.

“Dad needs us here.”

He knew me well enough to change the subject, and nosed at a blueprint on the deck.  

What about these?

I scooped it up and took a casual glance, then paused and unrolled it fully.  The external ship lights switched on, and I was looking at the schematics of a robotic manipulator arm (‘Canadarm’, my soul whispered to me) that would attach to the exterior of the shuttle.

A dozen ropes grabbed and unrolled the rest of the blueprints.  I turned from one to the next, looking at helium tanks and solid rocket boosters and big O-ring- watch for frost.  

Boss?  

I blinked, coming back to myself, and let the blueprints roll back up, saying again, “I’m fine. I'll let you get back to sleep, I'll study these inside.”

Study, he repeated sceptically.  You.

“Goddesses’ orders.”  I waved good-night as I turned the lights back off and jumped down the ladder, with the ropes slithering behind me.  I turned the interior lights on, manually this time, and unrolled the robot arm schematic out on the low table in the main cabin.

I didn’t get back to sleep that night.

 

---

 

“-extremely abrupt formation of Winter Storm Adrian, which has set a new record for the beginning of the winter storm season.  An immediate orange weather warning has been issued for counties Galway, Clare, and Limerick.  Met Éireann has said there are currently north to northeast winds of 65 to 80 kilometers per hour with gusts of up to-”

“Manannan!”  The storm centered on the coracle bobbing serenely in the only calm section of the churning ocean and coalesced into fifteen feet of furious sea god, clad in armor for the first time in five years.

“Neptune.”  Manannan didn’t get up from where he was reclining in his boat, only reached over to turn off his radio.  “Your tantrums are usually a bit more seasonal.  What’s got your shoals stirred?”

“Perseus Jackson,” Neptune said, with his words punctuated by the howl of the winds around them.  “Did you think I would never notice your attempt to press-gang him?”

“‘Press-gang’?” Manannan repeated, lifting his wide-brimmed hat up high enough to let Neptune see his raised eyebrows.  “He chose to wander the Giant’s Causeway on Samhain knowing full well we’d be out that night.  Blame the seers who sent him our way, if you must, but a man searching for myths should not be surprised to find them.”

“One night you were owed, and one night only.  He is mortal, and my son.”  Neptune’s form did not change when he made his claim, but it was a close thing, and largely because the pantheon’s foreign policy did not alter with their personalities.  To most outside gods, the only difference between Neptune and Poseidon was the name.

“And yet his hound caught the scent, and his hand killed the boar.”  

“Release him.”

As the storm intensified, Manannan grunted from the pressure.  The circle of calm sea centered on him disappeared, leaving him at the mercy of the waves.  A boat captained by a lesser sailor would have capsized instantly, but although the coracle bobbed and twisted wildly, it did not sink.

Begrudgingly, Neptune had to admit that Manannan had few equals on the water.  It was strange to think that the closest Rome would ever have was Perseus- his son, and yet not.  No-one knew if he would even have a Roman form, or how he would interact with their side of the pantheon.

Perhaps Juno had a point.

“It’s not my call, Neptune.  He earned his place, and we won't deny him entry.” Manannan was clearly trying to keep a casual tone, but his voice still betrayed his strain.  “But we do have quotas.  If he finds it burdensome, he can simply not ride out to Hunt.  His membership will lapse eventually.”

The winds slowed slightly.  “And how long will that take?”

Manannan shrugged.  “Ask your Diana.  I haven’t seen him in years.  Probably less than a mortal lifetime.”

Neptune studied him for any sign of deception, and finally allowed the wind and waves to slow to their original speed.

“If you lie you will regret it.  Perseus has his own destiny.  Interfering in it will bring down our entire pantheon down on your pathetic little Isles.”

Manannan regained control over his small patch of ocean, and the little boat settled down once more as Neptune’s physical form disappeared.

“Believe me, Neptune,” Manannan murmured to the fading remnant of his presence, pulling his hat back down over his eyes, “I wouldn’t dream of interfering.”

 

---

 

I was dozing on my hammock in the morning sun, trying to catch up on lost sleep from last night, when there was a flare bright enough to see from behind my closed eyelids.  I blinked and squinted at the sun as it took a sharp downward turn.  

Styx.

It wasn’t quite the same- wheels and not sandals, just to start with- but it was close enough.  With the ease of long practice, I shielded my eyes against the glare and declined to let any part of my ship char from the heat of the sun settling on my deck.

“Percy Jackson!”  Apollo flashed a bright smile as he swung out of the still-glowing Maserati and flung out his hands in a depressingly recognizable gesture.  I made a sound like a deflating balloon as he intoned,

Amaterasu

Bright sun of the Eastern sky

So, you tapped that.

He grinned at me, waiting for applause.  

I rubbed my forehead as I counted the syllables automatically, feeling a headache coming on.  I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep for this.  “Good morning, Lord Apollo.  It’s been awhile.  Does ‘tapped’ count as one syllable or two?”

He frowned.  “Tapp-ed… it should have two, but since it’s pronounced as ‘tapt’… huh.”

He thought about it, then raised his hands again and said, “So, you tapped that a-”

“So what’s up?” I asked hastily.  If I’d wanted to hear the immortalization of my love life in bad poetry, I wouldn’t have stopped drinking with Susano’o.

“Urania asked me to swing by,” he said cheerfully, “and I also have a... friendly warning for you.  God-of-prophecy stuff, you know how it is.”

Right.  The next Great Prophecy.  At least there was a point to the gods’ current nonsense.  When it was over, they’d probably forget about me again.   “What is it?”

“You know how a prophecy will always come true, but the how and the why is usually pretty up in the air?”

“Yeah.”

“The queen of the gods is gunning for her own version about how it’s all going to happen, and she’s got enough support for it now that she’ll probably go through with it no matter what,” he said.  “You should probably stay out in the Pacific until things are ready to go down.”

“What,” I said flatly.  “Is this another order from Zeus?”

“Nah,” he said, waving that off.  “Like I said, just some friendly advice.  You won’t be involved in the first quest she’s got planned, but if you might get in the way, J- Hera’s going to make sure you don’t.  If you feel like being Han Solo’d until Return of the Jedi starts, don’t let me stop you.”

I took a deep breath and unclenched my fist.  Not another edict, then, and I was mostly willing to trust Apollo about a prophecy.  “For how long?”

Apollo shrugged.  “Hm.  I don’t know exactly.  A few months.  Less than a year, definitely.”

“And after this prophecy starts it’ll go back to normal?”  

“Sure!  About having to avoid the Americas, I mean.  Zeus’s order still stands.  Stay in the West.”  He ignored the expression on my face, turning away and popping the trunk of the sun car.  “Anyway, I need to get back up top, so let me give you Urania’s stuff.”

He started hauling out a disturbingly large pile of books and a couple of well-wrapped packages- the promised ship’s chronometer and sextant, I could feel, although I’d only ever seen them in museums.  

He tossed the books onto the deck, but I made a bleat of protest when he tried to do the same with the precision instruments.  Apollo raised an eyebrow when the mast ropes grabbed them from his hands.  “It’d take more than that to hurt them.  Vulc- ah, I mean, Hephaestus made these for her centuries ago, Percy.”

“So why’s she giving them-” I stopped when I remembered Artemis’s warning. “-no, sorry, forget I asked-”  

“Because every god in the West knows about your appreciation for heavenly bodies,” Apollo said with a smirk.

“Join the club,” I said sourly as I started to gather up the books.  I glanced at the cover of the first one I picked up.  A complete history of the Sputnik program, in the original Russian.  Sounded like a page-turner.  “It includes everyone in East Asia.”

“Was that your goal?”

I looked back at him.  “What?”

Apollo was leaned against the side of his car, still smiling.  “You were at the center of divine attention for a long time.  Then, you weren’t.  Mortals have done some weird things to get the gods to pay attention to them.  You should hear about what your friend Thalia’s mom did to get Zeus back about twenty years ago.”

I stared at him, hoping my expression said how stupid the suggestion was.  “No.  Getting the gods to pay attention to me was not my goal.  I didn’t have a goal.” 

“Wrong answer.”

“I’m telling the truth,” I snapped.

“I know.  That’s the problem, Percy.  ‘Gods of your childhood,’ she called us.  I will not be forgotten.”  The car behind him flared, brighter and hotter than Amaterasu ever had on the Firefly, so hot that the sea spray on the deck vaporized instantly and the ocean around us started steaming.

The sun might be on my deck, but it was my deck.  I gritted my teeth and held, and I did not burn.  Didn’t so much as singe.

Apollo raised his eyebrows, too bright to look at directly but mapped out clearly in my heightened awareness of the Firefly.  “Already.  Huh.”

“Was there anything else you needed, Lord Apollo?” I asked through clenched teeth.  I was pretty sure that not even he could miss the implied ‘get the hell off of my ship’.

“No, that was it,” he said, getting into the still-white-hot sun car.  “I need to get back to my rounds.  Remember my warnings, Percy!”

He lifted off and gradually receded, retaking his place in the sky.

I turned around and punched the mainmast.

     

---

 

I spun around one-and-a-half times and let the shield fly in the Chiron-approved discus throwing style.  (Yes, we’d been trained in all of the old Olympian events, and no, we didn’t need to hear any more jokes about it.)  Mrs. O’Leary huffed, but lurched back to her feet and trotted down the isolated beach one more time.  When she'd brought it back, though, she flopped down onto the sand and closed her eyes, ignoring the next throw.  I poked her a couple of times, but when a dog that big decided she wasn’t moving, she wasn’t moving.

I sighed, giving up.  I’d sent Mrs. O’Leary back to Chiron for the long trip to Australia, and hadn’t called her back until I’d made port in Darwin this morning.  I knew she wouldn’t want to do much until she’d recovered from shadow-walking around the world.

I was just trying to burn off my extra energy, and it wasn’t working.  If it wasn’t the middle of the night in New York I’d have already called home and summoned an army of doomed monsters, and I was seriously thinking about looking up the number for the local tourist board instead.  I was restless.  

No.  Not just restless.  I was still angry.  

Angry at pretty much everyone.  

At the gods of the West, who wanted to cage me.  At the gods of the East, who’d decided they could keep me without ever asking.  At Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi, who hadn’t talked to me about anything apparently.  And I didn’t notice when the anger…

“Punk.”

…stopped being all from me.

I turned.  Ares was leaning against a tree with a cocky smirk on his scarred face and the War Chariot in bike form next to him.  He was wearing pretty much the same outfit as when we’d met in the diner when I was twelve- black biker leathers and a blood-red shirt. 

“I am so glad to see you,” I told him, pulling Riptide out of my pocket and calling a shield’s worth of water from the ocean to my arm.  “So very glad.  You have no idea.”

He lost the smirk and his fiery eyes flared over the top of his wraparound sunglasses as he pulled them down his nose to get a better look at me.  Then he snorted.  

“I can work with that.  If you tell me where your mortal spot is, I might decide to not deliberately aim for it.”

“You are a gentleman and a scholar.  I’ll take my chances.”  I’d told exactly three people where my weakness was.  Ares would never be the fourth.

“Those are fightin’ words, Jackson.”  He drew his enormous two-handed sword from the back of the War Chariot and came at me.

I met the first swing with the flat of my sword, stepping in and trying to follow his sword edge up the blade.  He disengaged just as smoothly, keeping me at the same distance, and struck at me with a backswing.

I caught that on the edge of my spinning shield, and the force of the water shoved the sword tip to my left, counterclockwise, causing him to grunt in surprise as I stepped in and took the opening.  He twisted to avoid being gutted and came at my face with a pommel-strike, and I moved back and out of his range.

We paused for a second, assessing each other.  Ares’ reach was shorter than Guan Yu's and longer than Hachiman's. The closest I’d fought recently was Chi You, actually, but I didn’t have to guard Guan Yu’s flank this time and could move around freely.  Of course, that meant Guan Yu wasn’t guarding my side either.

Ares charged forward again, and I dodged, guiding his swing past me with Riptide.  I tried to swing towards his neck, but he’d stepped back with a smirk.  He raised his foot, kicked the bottom of the shield, and let the spinning water carry his boot directly into my stomach.

Ares still kicked like a battering ram.  I went flying like I had in our last fight nearly a decade ago, though only ten feet this time, and I landed in a crouch instead of on my back.  I wheezed, left hand on my ribs, but managed to get Riptide back up in a guard position almost immediately.  

“Here’s a tip, punk,” Ares drawled.  “Stop the comparisons.  That’s half of what’s got everyone annoyed, and not every Olympian’s as nice as I am.”

“Believe me,” I grunted, “I know who I’m fighting.”

I straightened, gingerly poking at my ribs.  I wouldn’t bruise- bruises were just internal bleeding- but I’d never figured out if my bones could still break.  It wasn’t something I’d wanted to go around testing.  

Whether they could or not, they hadn’t this time.  I brought my shield up, and the fight was back on.

Half an hour later, I was lying in the surf, eating a badly-needed golden apple and saying hi to the local fish.  Kind of surprisingly, Ares had listened when I’d called for a break.  It might be because he didn’t actually want me dead this time around, and I was slamming hard against the Mark’s limitations in combat- food and rest.  My stamina had never recovered.  

I had advantages Achilles hadn’t, of course.  I napped a lot, but that was because I enjoyed sleeping, not because I needed to.  Water could get rid of my fatigue.  The entire reason I’d started using the watershield regularly was for the boost of energy it gave me; without it, I wouldn’t have lasted long against any war god.  Even when Hachiman had been helping me learn to fight two-handed with the Honjo Masamune I’d kept a source of water near or on my body.  

For the food, I’d learned to keep an apple or two nearby.  They were more portable than the tablecloth or Inari’s new bowl.  

I finally got up and disengaged a particularly bold little octopus with bright blue rings from around my wrist.   “Round two?”

“‘Bout time,” he said.  “Oh, right… I think at some point I’m supposed to warn you to stay in the West.”

“Go to Tartarus,” I said cheerfully.  “And thanks for not actually caring.”

He shrugged, raising his sword again.  “If you’re not here to fight me, we go to war.  Either way I win.”

He hadn’t changed a bit.  It was kind of pathetic how grateful I was for that.

I charged.

---

Authors Notes: 

If a mythology has a hostile pig, Percy is going to run into it.  Hostile mythological pig suggestions are welcome.

Story notes:  

Mediterranean cyclones exist, but typically form between September and January, so Kym was a bit off-season here.  They can and do occasionally reach hurricane-force wind speeds.

Sixty/Thirty years ago:  She’s rounding.  2017 was the 60^th anniversary of the launch of the first satellite, the Sputnik, which kicked the US-Russia space race into high gear.  2016 was the 30^th anniversary of the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster, where a frozen o-ring exploded the shuttle and killed the entire crew.

Mercury, etc.:  Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo were NASA manned spacecraft programs. 

‘That one time’ refers to Apollo 1, where an accident in a pre-launch test killed three astronauts.  (Apollo 13, on the other hand, was the stuff of epics.  Urania was thrilled with Apollo 13.  She’s still a Muse.)

Challenger and Colombia were space shuttles that were destroyed along with all hands- the Challenger on launch and the Colombia on re-entry. 

Urania- Pre-Trials of Apollo, the Muses are only mentioned as the Olympian band and DJs and as Apollo’s opening singers.  In earlier Greek mythology, the nine Muses were pretty much just for general artistic inspiration.  The idea that there was one Muse for each major area of poetry/theater/science didn’t show up until roughly Alexander the Great’s era, and the Romans adopted that tradition. 

There is some overlap between the aspects in-story, in that the Muses have individual names and personalities, but in the story, Urania’s Greek aspect is one of the nine Olympian DJs, and her Roman aspect is the astronomer.  Her Roman aspect is also the default patron goddess of the Western space programs, although individual gods got interested when a mission was named for them or one of their kids.  (One of the Gemini twins- and only one- was a son of Zeus.) 

Wave-sweeper / Sguaba Tuinne- Manannan’s legendary self-navigating boat. In Wales coracles were traditionally made of willow branches covered by a waterproof hide; if you picture a big floating basket you won’t be far off.  In Ireland they were shaped more like rowboats.  Since Manannan has stories from both Ireland and Wales I have no idea which type it was considered to be originally.

Hachiman-  The Japanese patron god of warriors, and Ares’ and Guan Yu’s counterpart in the Shinto Pantheon.  He’s the deified spirit of the legendary Emperor Ōjin, and is credited with the kamikaze, the divine wind that twice protected Japan from the Mongol invasion fleets of Kublai Kahn in the late thirteenth century.

Chapter Text

Okay, so it’s been nine-ish months since I last updated and the world is not in a great place right now.  Enjoy the chapter, and I hope you all stay safe and healthy and isolate yourselves as much as your individual circumstances allow. 

There’s a fair bit of worldbuilding in this one, and more extensive story notes than usual.  (You all like worldbuilding, right?)  The hardest parts were the Australian mythology sections; it was hard to research and wrap my head around, and I’m still not sure how well I managed.  Thank you to Ravaelt for proofreading those sections.

---

Turkey, March, two years after the end of the Second Olympian War

The ruins of Troy were underwhelming.  

It was a lot smaller than I’d pictured and had been destroyed and rebuilt a bunch of times over the millennia.  Most of the bits of rubble that were still recognizable were from the Roman settlement of Illium.  I wandered behind a tour group through the dig sections from Troy Seven, the one that had probably been the Troy of the Illiad, but it was a fairly unimpressive row of trenches with piles of earth and stone.  

I wasn’t quite sure what I’d expected besides the normal tourist experience.  The same thing I’d expected on Mount Toubkal and Mount Olympus, probably.  Something left from the legends that had been made here.

But two-and-a-half years ago I’d met Achilles and immediately suggested a different choice of footwear.  I knew where the magic had gone.   I took my phone back out and tried to pay attention to the history.

I said good-bye to the guide a couple of hours later and wandered out the gate in the light of the setting sun.  I paused to get a picture of the replica of the Trojan Horse with some other tourists waving from the stomach, and headed in the direction of the coastal plains, where I’d left Mrs. O’Leary. 

It was a quiet evening.  The road I was on bordered a river that flowed down to the lands where the actual battles had been fought.  The Firefly was anchored a bit offshore, and I’d be swimming out to it, not flying, since Blackjack had run into the local pegasus herd this morning.  I’d given him an extra grooming, got out his new Chimera-tooth necklace, and made plans to meet up in Istanbul.

An owl swooped past me silently as the scattered streetlights on the road started to turn on.  I was internally debating between cooking on the ship or finding a restaurant in the nearby town when I felt the movement of air close- too close- behind me.  It was enough.

I twisted as I went for Riptide, letting the thing that looked like it just been an owl hit my shoulder instead of the neck-break it had been aiming for.  It bounced off, staggering me with it’s weight, and screeched as it flapped back and hit the ground in a crouch.  Its transformation finished and it snarled at me, showing an impressive pair of fangs in a hideously corpse-pale face.

...okay.  I didn’t have any garlic on me, but pointy things in the heart were supposed to work pretty well, right?  

“Edward Cullen, you are not,” I told it.  It decided to take offence at the comparison and lunged at me.  It dodged my first swing with inhuman speed and grace, darted in, and immediately chipped a fang on the arm I had up to protect my throat.  It was over pretty quickly from there.  

“Now that’s a curse I haven’t seen in a long while,” a deep voice murmured.  

I jerked and looked in the direction of the river, where a shirtless man with a laurel wreath around his head was leaning over the riverbank and looking at me with raised eyebrows.  He had a greying brown beard and mustache, and when he hoisted himself over the bank of the river, I saw that his bottom half was some sort of water snake.  “You’d be Poseidon’s boy, then.  Visiting the ruins?”

“I… yeah.  Yes, I’m Percy Jackson.”  I left the fangs where they’d dropped, wiped the dust off my sword, and tried to remember this guy’s name from the map.  “...Do you get vampires here often?”

“Mhachkay,” the river god corrected.  “More often in recent centuries.  Time was, the worst you had to worry about with the local owls was not offending Athena.  Now it seems like every other bird is a risen corpse.”

I was saved by the sign on a nearby footbridge.  “You’re the Karamenderes River, right?”

“These days I am,” he said.  “I’ve had a few names over the centuries.  They called me Scamander, back when the Greeks came to get back that Spartan girl.”

“You’ve been here that long?”  I looked back the way I’d come.  “What was it like?  It’s kind of hard to tell.”

“Well, everything was smaller back then,” Karamenderes said, coiling up his lower half and looking happy I was interested.  “Ten thousand people were packed into about fifty acres, and that was enough to make it a major city.  The walls, though- those were legendary.  Your father built them, you know.  Twenty feet tall, with towers that stretched up to thirty feet.”

I actually knew that story.  My dad had been on punishment duty for trying to overthrow Zeus.  Couldn’t say I blamed him, Zeus had probably had it coming.  “Didn’t the king stiff him on the payment?”

“And the moron got a sea serpent for it.”  Karamenderes chuckled.  “Didn’t learn his lesson, either.  When Heracles wandered by and killed the thing, Laomedon tried to avoid paying him too, so Heracles attacked the city and killed all of Laomedon’s sons except Priam.”

Hercules again.  He really did pop up everywhere.  I decided to change the subject.  “Were you involved in the war?”

“Well, I washed Achilles out to sea once.  Your father and Athena made sure he didn’t drown, and Hera got Hephaestus to dry out my flood.”

“So you joined the Trojan side?”

“No, I mostly stayed to myself except for that one time- there wasn’t much point when fighting on either side got the other half of the Council mad at you.” Karamenderes snorted.  “Achilles was a piece of work, though, I gotta tell ya.  He went nuts after his boyfriend died, started killing every Trojan he found.  I told him to do it on dry land and stop clogging my river up with bodies, and he tried to attack me instead.  So, giant waves.”

“He regretted it all, I think,” I said, remembering the ancient warrior haunting a riverbank for millennia, warning new generations of heroes away from his fate.  “We met at the Styx, and he tried to warn me off.  He wasn’t happy about how it all turned out.”

“Really?  There’s not much point being sorry after the fact.  Achilles chose his fate before he even got on the ships.  His mother prophesied that he could have either a long and happy life in obscurity, or Troy, death, and eternal glory.  And Achilles was a very proud man.”  Karamenderes peered at me in the dim light, eyes sharp and eyebrows raised.  “So even after being warned away, you still jumped in the Styx?”

I shrugged.  “We were at war.  It saved a lot of lives.”

The river god grunted.  “Hold on to that, then.  You’ve made your choices, just don’t regret things when it’s all over.”

“I don’t think I could,” I said honestly.  People kept calling it a curse, but jumping in the Styx had worked.  

We talked for a bit longer, long enough for Mrs. O’Leary to get bored chasing rabbits and come find me.  Karamenderes had some interesting stories; apparently Odysseus had been vicious when he got his revenge against the guy who’d dragged him along on the war.  He waved goodbye as Mrs. O’Leary and I headed down towards the coast and the Firefly.  

That night, I slept deeply, and my dreams were filled with swords and fire and the sound of birdsong.

The next morning, I looked at Manannan’s apple branch, sprouting with nine silver buds and exactly zero apples.  It… might have been Blackjack and his new friends?  The herd had been planning on heading north yesterday, but if they’d still been in the area they could have swung by for breakfast.  

It was odd that I hadn’t woken up, though.  I was usually pretty good at telling when people were on my ship.  If it had been Blackjack, it was even odder that he hadn’t woken me up himself.

Later in the morning, I was leaning against my rarely-occupied helm as the Firefly passed through the Dardanelles, the ancient Hellespont.  Sailing northwards here was tricky, and I was already going against the wind and current and having to stay out of the shipping lanes; I didn’t want to have to worry about any nearby ships glancing over, seeing me in my hammock, and calling the coast guard.

I let my attention wander from my ship to the ones nearby, shifting through the enormous oil tanker passing to port and the smaller yachts in front and behind, then focusing deep below me.  There were a lot- two hundred and sixteen - of wrecks down there, mostly sunk about a century ago.  World War One, probably sunk in the Battle of Gallipoli.  I considered anchoring and diving down to get a closer look, but- no.  I’d be passing through here again and wouldn’t have to focus nearly as much on the Firefly on the way out.  

I spent a couple of days leisurely sailing counterclockwise around the Sea of Marmara rather than cutting straight across to Istanbul.  After I made it there and anchored in the marina that would be my base for the next few days, I finally put my international driver’s license to good use and rented a car.  

After the second time the guy in the cross-street ran a red light and the third time the guy behind me insulted my mother when I didn’t slam the pedal the second the light turned green, I decided I did not appreciate Blackjack enough.  This was a nightmare, and I’d learned to drive in New York City.

I did finally manage to get to the Hagia Sophia and get pictures of it and of the neighboring Sultan Ahmed Mosque before the tourists got kicked out for the afternoon prayers.  I wandered down the streets and past the fenced-off ruins of an old Roman-style forum before coming to a large open area, called ‘Freedom Square’ according to my phone.  

Before I got into the square, though, I was blocked by a ghost, of the type I’d caught occasional glimpses of in Italy, who looked like he’d just stepped off the Byzantine mosaics in the Hagia Sophia.  He was blind, with eyes trailing tears of blood that dripped off his face and disappeared without ever hitting the pavement.  Despite that, he didn’t seem to have any problem seeing me.  

“Hold, demigod,” the ghost said theatrically, and unsheathed the sword at his side and pointed it at me.  “Who are you, and who is your parent?”

“Percy Jackson,” I told him, and, not really liking the whole sword thing, “son of Sally Jackson.”

That made him pause.  He raised his bushy eyebrows at me.  “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, but my mom’s awesome.  Maybe you should be specific.”

“Very well, son of Sally,” he said, brandishing his sword dramatically, “then who is your divine parent, and are you a student of Chiron?”

“Poseidon,” I said curtly, “and I went to Camp Half-blood, yeah.  Who are you?”

“Excellent!  I am Alexios the Fifth, emperor and autocrat of the Romans,” the Greek ghost said to me in Greek, “and son of Athena.  So long as you are no child of the Latins, you are welcome in Constantinople, Percy Jackson!”

There wasn’t much resemblance.  I wondered if his eyes had been grey once.

“They, ah, don’t call it that anymore,” I told Alexios.  “I don’t think it’s the ‘Latins’ you should be worried about.”

“Hah!  The Turks!”  He sheathed his sword with a flourish.  “They were scavengers, just picking over a carcass!  It was the Latins that destroyed us, boy, mark my words.  The Roman Empire fell to the Crusades, not the Sultan.”

“...you’re speaking Greek,” I pointed out.  

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked blankly.

I decided not to go there.

“They claimed to be here to restore Prince Alexios to the throne, but treachery hid in their hearts!  My mother warned me herself- the Doge of Venice, the son of Mercury, wanted to destroy us from the start, wished to take our wealth and history and make it his own!  Never trust a Latin, she told me, and she was right!”

Hermes’ kid, I translated mentally.  It looked like the names of the gods hadn’t completely gone back to their originals by this guy’s time, though the shift must have started sometime in the Middle Ages.  It wasn’t unusual for demigods in opposing positions of power to fight for their country, it had actually been a major problem in World War II, but…  “Wait, they wanted to put you on the throne, and you’re complaining about them?”

“Of course not!” Alexios said, insulted.  “They were brought here by Alexios the Fourth, who betrayed his people by bringing a foreign army into the empire.  I had nothing to do with it!  After a few months with them here the city had become entirely unlivable, you wouldn’t believe the riots.  I took the throne from the traitor emperor with my mother’s blessing and armed the city against the Latins!”

I looked at his ruined eyes.  “And how’d that go?”

He deflated.  “Well, better than if we had been completely unprepared.  We gave them a fight, at least.”

“I’m sure you did,” I said politely.  “And is there, um, anything that’s keeping you here?  From passing on and going to Hades?  Charon would probably accept my credit card, if you’d like some help getting across the river.”

“Iron will, Percy Jackson, nothing but iron will and determination!  While I still walk this city, no child of the Latins will have peace here!” Alexios declared.  

“...right,” I said slowly.  “I guess I’ll let you get back to that, then.  Good luck finding them.”

“Thank you, and give my greetings to Chiron.  And remember- never trust a Latin!”  The ghost turned and continued across the square, fading into translucence halfway.  I shook my head and turned around, back to where I’d parked.  I should return the car before rush hour started anyway.  

 

---

 

“Oh Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow.  Please accept my offering.  Show me Blackjack.”

The drachma fell through the sea spray and bounced, unaccepted, on the deck.  

Blackjack was late.  

Back at Troy, we’d agreed to meet up in a week.  That had passed two days ago.  I hadn’t been worried yesterday.  It was spring, and some of the mares in the herd had been very pretty.  But he hadn’t shown up today either, and Iris Messages weren’t connecting, to him or to any of the herd he’d been travelling with.  

There were reasons besides… the obvious… that an Iris Message might not go through.  I’d met Manannan, ridden with the Wild Hunt.  Talked to Nico about the limits of his father’s power.  Heard from Chrysaor that he’d prefer to stay trapped in the Mediterranean, rather than brave the Suez Canal and the Indian Ocean beyond it.  There were more things in heaven and earth than were dreamt of in my mythology, and when he really got going Blackjack could fly across a continent in a few hours.  Maybe Iris just couldn't find him.

I hoped it was that simple.  

The sun was setting, and any rainbows I could make now might not last a full Message, but unlike Blackjack Rachel had a cell phone.  The call went to voicemail, and I asked her to give me a call when she was able.

She didn’t call back immediately, maybe still in class.  I paced the deck for a bit, hoping that Blackjack would suddenly fly over the horizon to mock me for worrying about him, and eventually flopped into the hammock and started figuring out how to record phone calls.  By the time I’d worked it out I’d settled down enough to start yawning despite my tension.  

I shook my head in irritation and called a wave over the side to wake me up.  The spray from the wave also woke up Mrs. O’Leary, who whined at me before curling back up on her boar-skin dog bed and falling back asleep.

The water had helped, but not enough, and pretty soon I was yawning again and pacing the deck to keep myself awake.  I took out my phone again to see if Rachel’s afternoon classes would be over by now.  Maybe she just hadn’t noticed my call.

It was barely 8:30.

I was suddenly fully awake.  When I focused on my surroundings I could hear a crooning, almost overwhelmed by the background noise of waves against my hull and the distant sounds of a city at night.  The more attention I paid to it the heavier my eyelids got, and I casually took Riptide out of my pocket.

I settled against Mrs O’Leary and pretended to fall asleep while I used the cover of her body to uncap my sword.  Each time I felt myself nodding off, I squeezed my hand around the bare blade until I was awake again.  

Pretty soon after I stopped moving around, a glowing shape detached itself from a neon restaurant sign on shore and glided towards the Firefly.  It was a peacock-sized bird, orange and red with flames flickering along its wings and tail feathers.  I tensed as it came onto the ship, but the bird didn’t attack.  After a wary glance over at us to make sure I was still ‘asleep’, it made a beeline- birdline? - for the apple branch.  

Oh.  It had been nine days since Troy.  The apples didn’t really stack like that for me or Blackjack, but maybe the bird could eat a lot of food at once without any problems.  Or it had a pocket somewhere- the apples didn’t go bad that I’d noticed yet.

“Hey,” I said, capping Riptide.  

The background crooning turned into a startled screech that left me wincing as the bird bolted back into the air.  It was fast, but Lucky had been faster, and the bird didn’t have any better luck than he had.  I wrapped it up as gently as I could as its flames went white-hot and its cries shriller.  “Whoa.  Hey.  Relax, I do not care about the apples, I’ve been giving them to homeless guys anyway-”

Eventually it tired itself out enough to hang limply from the mast.  I came closer, hands empty and outstretched.  “It’s okay.  Take as many apples as you want.  Just stop trying to put me to sleep, alright?  I’m expecting an important call.  Nod if you understand me.”

After a long pause, the bird nodded.  Which was nice, I wasn’t sure what language I’d been speaking just then but it wasn’t the Turkish I’d been speaking for the last week.  I hoisted it on top of the apple branch and let the ropes unravel.  

The bird shook itself to smooth its feathers and settled down onto the branch, staring at me with its head cocked.  After a minute, it shook its tail to detach one of its long fiery feathers, which floated down to my feet.

“Um, thanks?”

I picked the feather up, and immediately dropped it when a woman’s voice said, You are welcome.

The bird gave a reproving chirp, and I picked the feather up again.  “Was that you?”

Yes. You have been kind, traveler, and kindness must be repaid.  Hold my feather, and you will understand the speech of birds.  Wave it, and so long as I am near enough to hear I will respond to a call for aid.   

So I could now understand birdsong, as long as I was carrying a six-foot-long feather that was also on fire.  And, really, speaking to fish wasn’t as useful as you’d think, and if I weren’t travelling with Blackjack I’d barely ever use my horse-whisperer powers.  I wasn’t sure understanding birds would be useful enough to make up for extending my reluctance to eat a tuna sandwich to Chicken McNuggets.

It was a nice gesture, though, and she probably knew more about the area than I did, which could be useful right now.  “Actually, the only thing I’d need help with is finding a friend of mine- I don’t know if you’ve seen him?  A large black pegasus stallion, probably travelling with the Black Sea herd?”

She hesitated, then shook her head.  

Seen him, no.  

“But?”

But Granny Horror has reformed after that mess with Prince Ivan a few centuries ago.  The steeds she raises are legendary, and she is trying to reform her herds.  All free-roaming horses are in danger from her right now.

“Granny Horror?” I repeated.  The name that left my lips was ‘Baba Yaga’.  At least I knew what language I was speaking now.  “Where does she live?”

In the forests of the north, past the River of Fire, in a house standing on a pair of chicken legs.

That sounded promising, in that it sounded like somewhere Iris Messages would maybe not be able to reach and I was willing to hope.  I opened my mouth to ask more, but was interrupted by my phone.  Rachel, returning my call.

“Hey, Percy, what’s up?”

“Blackjack’s missing.  I think I need a prophecy,” I said grimly.

Her voice turned serious.  “Let me get somewhere alone.  What happened?”

I gave her the story while she found an empty unlocked classroom.  I hesitated, but in the end didn’t mention the bird munching on an apple in front of me and didn’t give her the name of the witch that might have kidnapped Blackjack.  

“Okay, I’m ready.  Go ahead,” she said.

A scratching came from the side of the boat.  I wasn’t wearing my headset.  “Just a minute.”

I walked over and glanced down.  A startled telekhine looked up at me, the first of several I could feel around the hull.  I let my ‘voice’ resonate through the ship and the surrounding water.

I’ve had a bad day.  Think very carefully about what you’re about to try.

The telekhine I was looking at hesitated, then carefully lowered itself back into the water.  Its pack followed its lead.

Good choice.

I set my phone to ‘record’, then raised the phone back to my ear and asked, “Where’s Blackjack?”

Rachel exhaled sharply and spoke in the voice of the Oracle of Delphi.

Mercy to others shall guide your way

Until you pass the Night, Dawn and Day

The hag of the forest, your friend shall keep

Unless she’s returned to deathless sleep

 

It was about as straightforward as I’d ever heard a prophecy be, and my shoulders slumped in relief.  Blackjack was alive.  Probably not doing great, probably not happy with the world, but alive and likely to stay that way.

“Percy?  How did it go?” Rachel asked.

“Great.  He’s alive, and I know where to look for him.  Thank you, Rachel, thank you so much,” I said.

“Anytime, Percy, and I really mean that.  Let us know when you find him,” she said.  I appreciated the ‘when’.  

After she hung up, I listened to the prophecy again, and looked up at the bird I’d just shown mercy to after she’d tried to drug me.  I said in Russian, “So, I need a guide, and those apples regrow daily.  You interested?”

The old witch eats the young men who seek her out, traveler.

I smiled humorlessly.  “I’m pretty chewy.  Are you in or out?”

The bird dipped her long neck. 

In, as far as I am able to travel with you.  I am the Firebird.

I nodded sharply.   “Thanks, and welcome aboard.  My name’s Percy Jackson.”

The Firefly unmoored and my sails unfurled, catching the wind to take us north, into the Black Sea.

 

---

---

 

The Blessed Isles, Irish Sea.  Late August, five years after the end of the Second Olympian War.  

 

Near the shore of the shaded pool, a juvenile salmon nibbled on a small hazelnut, the last of nine, as gently swirling currents kept the rest of the shoal away from her meal.  The final bite disappeared in her mouth, and she froze for a long minute.

With a final full-body shiver, the Bradan Faesa swam upwards, towards the god on the banks of the Well of Wisdom that had been feeding the young salmon hazelnuts the entire day.  

You’re supposed to let that happen naturally, they said reproachfully.  

“There’s no time for that,” Manannan said.  “Events are picking up.  I need you awake.”

You do? the Salmon said, startled, and then, Oh!  Of course, my lord!

“The Morrigan spent a week sharpening her spear before putting it away in disgust, and I got a visit from Neptune about his son.  What’s he been doing?”

The Salmon of Wisdom made an embarrassed wiggle and said, Ah.  Well.  More of a ‘who’, really…

Ten minutes later, they ended with, 

-and so he’s begun a long-distance learning course with the Muse of Astronomy.

Manannan leaned back against the hazel tree on the bank, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  “What’s his membership status?”

Irreproachable.  He rides out with horse and hound at least weekly and has Hunted the monsters of legend in every land and ocean he has visited, from the Chimera in Rome to the demon Chi You in China.  Cernunnos himself is in more danger of losing his membership than Perseus Jackson is.

Manannan nodded in satisfaction.  “Good.  Keep an eye on him and let me know when he leaves the West again, and when the Eastern gods make their move.”

Yes, sire!

Manannan strolled off towards the distant sounds of song and laughter.  Behind him, the Salmon soared into the air once, then settled back into their shoal of siblings and focused on the changes in the world since their last death.

 

---

 

We’d spent most of September hopping between ports going counterclockwise around the continent.  The ‘family visits’ had thankfully dropped off after getting to land, except for the occasional random interrupt by Ares.  At the moment, the Firefly was anchored an easy swim away from the shallow seagrass beds of Shark Bay Marine Park, which had a huge number of dugongs and the largest hippocampus herd I’d ever seen.  All the grazing sea-cows and horse-fish would come over to say hi whenever I was in the area, and I was pretty sure that the occasional passing boaters saw them all as dugongs.

Are you packed, Boss? Blackjack asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” I said, strapping my pack onto my back.  Food wasn’t a problem, with Uke Mochi’s and Inari’s gifts securely wrapped in the tablecloth I’d picked up in Russia, so it was just my camping gear, clothing, and first-aid kit.  So far, we’d mostly stayed within an hours’ flight from the coast; this was our first extended trip into the outback.

The first couple of hours on the way to Alice Springs, a town in the center of the continent, was spent flying over bushes that gradually got thinner.  This part of the country was desert, according to the guidebook, though it didn’t look much like the Sahara or Gobi.  We kept on going until I saw the glimmer of water in front of us.  A large lake, probably almost a hundred miles long, surrounded by sand and glittering salt.  

I tapped Blackjack on his shoulder and pointed, and he lowered his altitude so we could land.  We were circling low and coming in for a landing near a posted sign.  The low height was probably the only thing that saved Blackjack’s life when a wall of wind came out of nowhere and slammed into us.  

I was almost tossed off Blackjack completely as he flapped frantically to stay in the air.  He called out, Hang on! 

“Aim for the water!” I yelled.  

You think?!

I’d be fine.  It was a saltwater landing.  I concentrated, trying to give some of that immunity to Blackjack in the few seconds we had left, but I don’t think I managed to do anything.  I’m pretty sure his landing was just good flying.

I let myself fall off when we hit the surface, and floated up next to Blackjack, using the water to support us both.  It was slightly too deep to make it comfortable to stand.  “Are you alright?”

I think so, but I don’t want to try flying out.  Where’d that wind come from?

I shrugged and went underwater to check his legs and make sure he really hadn’t broken anything.  I’d just finished (and found nothing, we’d been incredibly lucky) when a hand wrapped around my ankle and pulled down.

There was nothing under me.  There wasn’t room- the water just wasn’t that deep.  

Or at least, it hadn’t been.

The creature dragging me down was human-shaped, except for the hook-like claws shredding my jeans and the sharp fangs studding his creepy smile.  There were three more floating below us, a man, woman, and child wearing bits of old and ragged clothing.  

I kicked the first monster off and pulled out Riptide, but hesitated when I saw the kid behind her… parents, probably.   

She was wearing a pair of Nikes, the only part of her clothing that hadn’t been torn like the legs of my jeans.  I doubted she’d gotten them at a department store.

They fit her perfectly.

The little girl saw me looking at her and her smile widened.  “We’ll eat you.”

...aaand my moment of doubt was done.  A wall of water slammed into the monsters from behind and below, pushing them up to where I was waiting with Riptide.  

I left the kid for last.  It wasn’t a tactical decision, even though she was definitely the least threatening of the monsters.  I just… didn’t want to kill her.  It was a relief when she decided to swim away, into the depths of a lake that had been at most seven feet deep when we landed.

Below her, I saw the surface of an enormous bubble covering an entire village of the creatures.  The littlest monster squeezed through the top of the bubble and dropped down, screeching loudly enough to be heard throughout the lake.  The ones in the streets looked up and started marching.

I popped up next to Blackjack.  “Out of the water.”

What was that howling?

“Cannibal infestation.”

What.

A wave propelled us towards dry land while I described the monsters to Blackjack.  If I’d been alone, I’d have stayed underwater, but I didn’t want to balance fighting off water monsters with trying to make sure Blackjack didn’t drown or get eaten.  I swung onto his back once we reached the nearest salt flat and weighed the advantages and disadvantages of the pack I was still wearing- something covering my back vs. the weight throwing off my center of balance- and decided to leave it on.  

The first monsters, probably ones that had already been near the shore, surfaced and came at us, claws outstretched.

Hold on, boss!

I clung onto his neck as Blackjack reared and caved in the skull of the nearest monster, then pivoted and collapsed another’s chest with a wing strong enough to carry half the weight of a large horse.

Pegasi don’t fight on the ground often.  When demigods fought, the pegasi were aerial scouts and rapid transport- the closest we’d had to a cavalry at the Battle of Manhattan were the Party Ponies.  Fighting from horseback is hard without stirrups, and pegasi don’t wear saddles.  They just don’t.

But ‘hard’ doesn’t mean ‘impossible’, and Blackjack was trained for this.  I wrapped my free hand in his mane, clenched my legs tight, and took care of the monsters that tried to come at him from behind.  

The first cluster of monsters died fast, and Blackjack started running for the sandy shore of the lake.  More monsters emerged from the inlet bordering our saltbank; half of them were promptly washed back into the lake by the wave that surged over them.  The rest were bowled over or trampled when Blackjack spread his wings again and charged.

When we’d finally made it to shore, I tugged on Blackjack’s mane and he came to a stop next to the sign we’d originally been aiming for.  I hopped off.

You sure, boss?

“They’ve killed kids.”

Oh, he said quietly.

He knew the drill by now and cantered further into the desert to wait for my whistle.  I turned around and glanced at the sign.

‘Lake Disappointment’.  It fit.

I didn’t go back into the water.  I wasn’t going to swim down to that village in the bubble and hunt down every inhabitant.  There were lines, even for monsters.

The ones that were surfacing and coming ashore, though, I could be pretty sure were up here because they wanted to eat me. I didn’t have any problem taking them out of the picture for a while.

I stepped back onto the salt flat, raised Riptide, and began.

 

---

 

The next day at the Alice Springs Visitor’s Center, a few questions about the folklore of the lake got me a name for the monsters- Ngayurnangalku, which basically meant ‘they’ll eat me’.

Good name, Blackjack remarked when I relayed that.

“They just live in that one lake, it sounds like.  We shouldn't have a problem anywhere else.”  We’d avoided flying over any other ponds and streams yesterday, just in case the ‘blown down over water’ thing was a constant in the area.  

We spent the first couple of days in Alice Springs visiting the wildlife reserves and Aboriginal art museums and galleries; I thought Rachel would like this year’s Christmas present.  We went from there to the mountain ranges and canyons within a couple hundred miles of the town, with the occasional short shadow-hop back to town for dog food.

In early October, at a campground in Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, I woke up before dawn and crawled out of my sleeping bag; the spring mornings were still cold enough for me to want one.  After dressing in the dark, I shoved my shoes on, crept past a slumbering Mrs. O’Leary, and poked Blackjack awake.   

Sunrise over the giant solitary rock formation Uluru was as spectacular as advertised; after watching (and photographing) the changing colors of the sandstone in the mist, we landed, had breakfast, and began an overland stroll to the neighboring Kata-Tjuta rock domes, about sixteen miles away.

About halfway there, I tapped on Blackjack’s shoulder.  “There’s a water source nearby.  You thirsty?”

I could drink something.

Weirdly, I couldn’t tell where the feeling of ‘water’ was coming from, but when I concentrated a trickle of pure water started pooling in the rocks of a nearby dry streambed a few seconds later.

I steered us over, and after Blackjack had finished drinking I reached down to fill my own bottle.  I touched the streambed for the first time, and saw-

-a giant snake, skin shimmering in all colors of the rainbow, moved across the continent churning up the land.  Rain filled the twisted paths behind them, and the rivers were born.  

They glanced to the side and saw me, next to them and ages away.  As they moved past, their tail flicked out and slammed into me-

and I was thrown back, away from the rain and the river.  I landed flat on my back and gave out a strangled yell of pain as my vision blacked out from the impact.

Boss!

My eyes cleared.  The sky was blue.  No rainclouds.  The sun was bright above me.  

I lay there, shivering, as Blackjack cantered over to me.

Boss!  What happened?

“Give… give me a minute,” I said shakily.  I waited for the throbbing in my mortal spot to fade and managed to sit up, still shivering.  Rainwater dripped off of my hair and onto my shaking hands as I tried to process the… dream?  Vision?

So.  That had happened.  

That had happened a long time ago, I was pretty sure.  

My baseline for ‘older than dirt’ was anything from before the Titans, and I hadn’t met many beings that qualified.  Nekhbet, the Egyptian vulture goddess.  A lady in a brief encounter in Iran.  That was pretty much it, and the snake had been much, much older than either of them.  Their trip across the continent had happened tens of thousands of years ago.  It was, somehow, still happening, and it would be for as long as the traces of the snake were carved into the land.

I looked back at the stream, where ancient rainwater was already sinking into the soil.  I wasn’t thirsty anymore.

“Let’s get back to camp, Blackjack.”

Alright, he said, unusually subdued, and knelt down so I could get on his back without moving too much.  

We’d be hauling along our own water, the next time we went out.

 

---

 

New York, Mid-December, five years after the second Olympian War

“Hey, Jason!”

Jason blinked, and looked around.  He was standing next to a triumphal arch of white marble.  A carving of President George Washington was directly in front of him, holding a book with Exitus Acta Probat written on the cover.

‘The end justifies the deed.’

Ominous. 

A puckish black-haired young man a few inches shorter than Jason came up to him and grabbed his upper arm, tugging him through the arch.  “Come on, man, the final starts in ten.”

“I… final?  What final?  Where am I?”

“Funny, but seriously, you might be able to be late, Phillips likes you, but he’s not going to do me any favors.  Argue with a guy one time about ‘wine-dark seas’ and color perception and he never forgets it.  Stupid language credit, this was supposed to be an easy A...”

Jason trailed after the chattering guy, bewildered, and soon found himself sitting in a classroom he’d never seen before, taking a test packet from a professor he’d never met, for a test he hadn’t studied for on a language he didn’t speak.

He might be in a nightmare.  He was sure, somehow, that he’d had dreams this vivid before.

He waited a couple of hours, until the student who seemed to recognize him was packing up, then handed in his unmarked test and followed him out.

“So, what’d you think?”

“It was all Greek to me,” Jason answered honestly.

Black-hair rolled his eyes, snorting.  “Never heard that one before.”

He turned to go down the hall, but was stopped by Jason’s hand on his shoulder.  “I don’t know who you are.”

He gave Jason a crocodile grin.  “Sure.  I’m not your roommate, I’m a monster in disguise.”

“Stop.”  Jason had just met him but could already tell that his default response was set to ‘smartass’.  “I do not know your name.”

“...I’m Leo Valdez,” the guy said, sobering and steering him to a nearby bench to check his eye dilation.  “Your roommate.  Dude, what were you doing last night?  Did you go to any weird parties?  If you’ve overheard me and Piper talking about Greek life, I’ve gotta tell you, that is really not what we meant-”

“Leo, great,” Jason said, batting away his hands.  “Leo.  What’s my last name?”

He had been going to try on that test.  He’d stopped at the first line.

“It’s…” Leo trailed off, starting to frown.  

Jason’s shoulders slumped.  “You don’t know either.”

“It’ll come to me, give me a minute!”

“Seriously,” Jason said, “are we friends?”

“Last I checked.”  Leo didn’t sound as certain as before, though.  He’d pulled a phone out of his toolbelt- a toolbelt Jason hadn’t noticed before, although now it stood out against his jeans- and was flipping through his contacts.  “...I don’t have your number.”

“When did we meet?  What did we talk about?”

Leo’s expression was grim.  “It was a long time ago, I don’t remember.  We’ve known each other for years.”

Jason looked at him.  Leo was facing him in a stance Jason instinctively recognized as combat-ready, weight on the balls of his feet and his free hand in the pouch hanging from his belt.  Jason didn’t think he wanted to know what Leo had in there.  “You don’t believe that either.”

“Starting to wonder, yeah.”  He finally selected a number.  “I’m calling Piper.”

“Who’s Piper?”

“Our roommate, and by that I mean her dad got her a Greenwich apartment and we are shamelessly mooching.  She’s better at the whole… details thing than I am.”

A woman answered the phone, and after explaining the situation Leo asked, “So, do you remember how we met Jason?”

Her voice was tinny through the speaker.  “The Wilderness School, back when we were fifteen.  We all decided to live together when we got into college.”

“Piper,” Leo said slowly, “we hated that place.  Hated it so much.  When Coach told us about Camp we left and never looked back.  And how did we keep in touch with Jason?  None of us had phones or computers.”

“We wrote… letters?”  Her voice turned confused as she listened to herself say that three teenagers in the twenty-first century had kept in contact through snail-mail for years.  “...we’ve been Misted."

“We’ve been Misted,” Leo agreed.  “Meet us in Washington Square?”

“I’m on my way.  I’ll give Coach a call, too, he’s in town today to pick up a package.”

“‘Misted’,” Jason repeated as Leo hung up.  “What does that mean?”

The phone disappeared into Leo’s toolbelt.  Leo didn’t relax his wary stance as he said, “It means someone is messing with our memories.  Piper and I are better at noticing stuff like that than most mortals would be, but we’re not completely immune.  And most of the things that would be able to do that to us aren’t friendly.”

‘Mortals’.  Jason didn’t ask.  Didn’t need to.  “We’re not human.”

That quicksilver grin returned.  “Well, I’m not.  Not by half.  The jury’s still out on what you are.  Do you remember anything?”

Long black hair.  Flashing dark eyes.  Strength under pressure and courage to share.  

He raised the thin gold chain around his neck.  Only one object was strung from it- a gold engagement ring, engraved with two joined hands.

Reyna.

 

---

 

Author’s Notes:  And we’re finally getting to Heroes of Olympus!  Sorry to The Lost Hero fans, but this is and will remain a Percy-centric story.  The quest is happening off-screen between chapters.  The major TLH changes I probably won’t be able to work mention of into the story are:  1) Tristran McLean was not kidnapped, because Piper has been responsible for her brothers and sisters for four years and still has a fairly distant relationship with her father, so Gaia just didn’t bother, and 2)  Piper’s implanted memories of Jason are entirely platonic, because for all of her faults Juno is the goddess least likely to encourage cheating on your fiancé.    

 

Story Notes:

Mhachkay- The vampire-equivalent in Turkic folklore.  If someone who is born with two hearts and two souls dies, one of the souls will pass on, and the other will cause the body to rise from the dead unless the corpse is decapitated before burial.  They fly around at night as owls and prey on the blood and organs of the living.  I have no source that says that garlic would be an effective repellent, but swords to the heart are a pretty standard cure for most variants of undead bloodsucker.

Karamenderes- Directly inspired by Kate Beaton’s Hark, A Vagrant! #373, Rage of Achilles.  Strongly recommended.

The Byzantine Empire was not actually called that by the inhabitants; they were what was left of the eastern Roman Empire and just called themselves Roman.  The city Constantine chose for his capital was originally called Byzantium, and later historians used the name to distinguish the Roman Empire in the east from the Holy Roman Empire and the Roman Empire of antiquity.  In-story, Olympus moved to Constantinople shortly after Constantine did, and stayed there for the rest of the millennium, but had moved to Venice by the time of the Fourth Crusade.

Culturally, the eastern empire was much more heavily influenced by Greece and the Asian provinces than the western half of the empire had been before it fell, and the official language of government was formally switched to medieval Greek in the seventh century.  It had probably been building since the administrative split of the Roman Empire into east and west, but I’m pegging that as the point where the multiple personality disorder of the Greco-Roman pantheon was fully actualized.  

 

In The Fourth Crusade, the Crusaders never actually made it to the Holy Land and instead pillaged and burned the largest Christian city in the world.  It is one of history's stupider episodes, to the point I figure that blaming it on demigod rivalries brought about by the multiple personality disorder of pagan gods makes about as much sense as anything that actually happened.

To sum up, the Fourth Crusade was gathered and needed to get to Egypt.  Venice had the shipping but was charging a hefty fee that the Crusader lords couldn’t pay.  Meanwhile, Emperor Isaac II in Constantinople had been overthrown, blinded, and imprisoned by his brother in 1195.  Isaac’s son eventually managed to escape and head west, and in 1203 said he’d pay for the Crusader’s ride if they helped him get the throne back from his uncle (along with some other promises, like resolving the schism between the Catholic and Greek Orthodox churches in favor of the Pope).  They accept, the Crusade diverts to Constantinople, Uncle Usurper flees the city after a short siege, and Isaac II is reinstated with his 21-year-old son as co-emperor in August of 1203.

So far so good, but Uncle Usurper took a decent bit of the treasury with him when he left.  The prince / new co-emperor was only able to raise about half of the money he owed the Crusaders, and after he brought a Latin army to the gates he wasn’t exactly the most popular man in Constantinople.  A few months and several riots later, he and his dad are overthrown again, this time by our guest star in this chapter.  By April 1204, everyone who had promised the Crusaders anything was dead, and they were still outside the walls.  They attacked on April 8 and made it into the city on the 13th.

All of these people- Uncle Usurper, Prince Co-Emperor, and Guest Star- are named Alexios, by the way.  They are Emperor Alexios III, IV, and V respectively.  

Anyway, in the aftermath, most of the empire was split between the Venetians and various Crusader Lords, with a few remnant Byzantine states on the outskirts.  One of the remnants, the Empire of Nicaea, reconquered Constantinople about sixty years later and declared the empire restored, but it never recovered and didn’t have the military strength or internal unity to stop the rising Ottoman Empire from gradually biting off chunks of territory.  In 1453, Sultan Mehmed II showed up at the gates, and now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople.

Alexios V- Born Alexios Doukas, of a parentage that has been lost to history, though he may have been a second cousin to Prince Co-Emperor.  He was a royal advisor and was noted by contemporary historians for his intelligence and anti-Latin sentiment.  After the fall of Constantinople, he fled to the court of the exiled Uncle Usurper.  Alexios III eventually decided he wanted nothing to do with Alexios V, blinded him, and handed him back to the Crusaders.  They executed him by throwing him off the now-ruined Column of Theodosius in what is now Freedom Square.  As a lar, he is proud to consider himself the last Roman Emperor, and ignores the more valid claim of Emperor Constantine XI, who led the legendary defense of Constantinople against Sultan Mehmed II.

The Doge of Venice- Enrico Dandolo, no friend of the Byzantines.  Whether or not Athena/Minerva was correct that he wanted to conquer Constantinople before Alexios IV died, he certainly did after.  The Venetian forces in particular were more focused on the pillaging than the burning of Constantinople, and many Byzantine artifacts were brought back to Venice after 1204. He died in 1205 at 97 years old and was buried in the Hagia Sophia.

That mess with Prince Ivan- Marya Morevna, an interesting intersection of the Koschei and Baba Yaga legends.  After Queen Marya Morevna imprisons Koschei, her husband Ivan Tsarevitch accidentally frees him a decade later and Koschei promptly kidnaps Marya Morevna.  To get her back Ivan eventually has to go to Baba Yaga’s place to get a mount capable of outrunning Koschei’s horse.  She agrees to give him one if he can watch her horse herd for three days.  This was intended to be an impossible task, but he succeeds with the help of the friends he made along the way.  Baba Yaga wanted to eat him anyway, but Ivan snuck out with the horse he needed, and Baba Yaga died in the River of Fire on the way out of her home while in hot pursuit.  Ivan went on to rescue his wife and kill Koschei.

Lake Disappointment / Kumpupintil- a salt lake without any outlets, fed entirely by creeks in the wet season and depleted through evaporation.  At that time of the year the lake would likely have been bone-dry, so some artistic license is taken.  The English name was given to it by an explorer who was hoping to find an inland source of freshwater by following the creeks that fed into it, and found Kumpupintil instead.

Ngayurnangalku- In the mythology of the local Martu peoples, these are cannibalistic spirits that live under Kumpupintil in a world where the sun never sets.  They are believed to have the power to pull aircraft out of the sky.  For the Ngayurnangalku, eating people is a choice, not a necessity; the ones that didn’t want to eat humans split from the group long ago to dwell in fresh-water sources elsewhere on the continent.

Dreamtime / The Dreaming- the most common English translation for the timeless otherworld/everywhen of Australian Aboriginal mythology.  Living creatures and the features of the land were, are, and will be created by ancestral spirits and heroes that made legendary journeys across Australia.  Australian culture is somewhere between forty and seventy thousand years old, and the tales of the Dreamtime are preserved by a meticulously remembered oral tradition that credibly describes the sea level rise and the loss of land bridges to the neighboring islands at the end of the last Ice Age.

Percy stumbled into a legend, as he does, and was immediately tossed back out again- rather gently, under the circumstances.

The Rainbow Serpent is one of the most recognizable Aboriginal legends, and is one of the few motifs common to ethnic groups across the continent.  The specific legends vary with the region, but the Rainbow Serpent is typically associated with water, often making rivers and gorges with their trips across the land and creating storms and rain when annoyed.  

 

Chapter Text

I’m back!  This wasn’t the longest wait time for a chapter, but it was close.  Apologies to Hawaii, New Zealand, and pretty much the entirety of the South Pacific, but I was still at the research stage for Polynesian mythology when I realized that I was going to have basically no time or motivation to write for the next few months; I write slowly and need to be fairly non-stressed to write fiction, and between work, buying a house, and moving, the next few months are not going to be productive in the writing sense.  If I wanted this chapter to get out this year I needed to get it out now.

 

The story is set in a vaguely early-2010s timeline.  Russia has not yet occupied the Crimean peninsula.  That being said, I’m sure I don’t need to explain why there isn’t a section in the chapter extolling the tourist attractions of Russia.  All my sympathies to the people of Ukraine. 

 

---

Arkhangelsk Oblast, Russia.  March, two years after the Second Olympian War.

 

I jumped off the slow-moving train into a patch of snow that looked deeper than the surroundings.  I waited tensely, but either my attempts at hiding myself with the Mist had succeeded or none of the train crew had been looking in my direction.

 

The Firebird wasn’t great with human place names and Mrs. O’Leary couldn’t shadow-walk us when I had no real idea where we were going, so I’d taken passenger trains as far as Arkhangelsk, on the White Sea, and then snuck onto a lumber train going in the right general direction to get as far into the taiga forest as it would take me.  I waited until the train had chugged down the track and out of sight, then climbed out of the snow bank, brushed myself off, and headed deeper into the pine trees.

 

When I could no longer hear the train, I unstrapped the water-filled mailing tube from my backpack, pulled out a very soggy, slightly crumpled orange feather, and stripped away the water it was soaked in.  It quickly began glowing, and then burst completely into flames once again.

 

I waved the feather over my head for hopefully the final time today and blew the whistle around my neck.  Mrs. O’Leary popped out of the shadows, hauling along her dog food and the rest of my camping gear, seconds before the Firebird soared overhead to light up the shady forest.

 

“Are we near the right place?”  

 

Not yet.  You are closer than you were in the city, but we have at least a day’s travel before we reach the new location of the River of Fire.  The witch’s hut will lie another long walk beyond the river.

 

I shrugged as I heaved up the large pack and clambered on top of Mrs. O’Leary’s broad back.  “We’d better get moving, then.”

 

The Firebird flitted from tree branch to tree branch ahead of me as Mrs. O’Leary and I bounded east.  Fortunately, my dog seemed happy to follow the bird rather than run off to chase rabbits or something.  The rest of the afternoon passed quietly, until the sun began to set and the Firebird abruptly backwinged and flapped back towards me.

 

I forgot about him, she hissed.  Hide, or Granny Horror will know you are coming.

 

She darted off, trailing sparks that died before they hit the snow, and was out of sight in seconds.  I blinked after her, but herded Mrs. O’Leary into the growing shadows and stuffed the glowing feather back into its carrier before finding a thicker grove of trees to hide in.

 

I had barely gotten under cover when I heard the chug of an engine from the direction we were headed.  I soon saw a black and silver snowmobile being maneuvered through the pine trees by a rider in a black snow suit and helmet.  As soon as he’d passed my little grove of trees, what little light was still reaching the forest floor faded away.

 

I looked after him for a long minute, then shook my head and called the animals back.  

 

It took a while for the Firebird to come this time, long enough for Mrs. O’Leary to scarf down her food and go back to the ship and her dog bed.  I was setting up my tent, with the feather stuck in the middle of the thicket of trees to substitute for the campfire I wasn’t going to build, when I saw her light coming towards me and picked it back up.

 

Did you hide?

 

“Yeah.  I’m guessing that’s your version of Nyx?  Your night-god?”

 

Yes.  He and his brothers are close to the witch, and report to her about travelers in the woods.  

 

“And, let me guess.  His brothers are Day and Dawn?”  

 

She nodded, and I relaxed a bit at the further confirmation that I was heading in the right direction.  

 

The Firebird soon left for the evening, either to go back to the Firefly with Mrs. O’Leary or to raid other fruit trees if she was getting tired of apples, I didn’t ask which.  I set a pot of soup up to heat over the feather and settled back against a log, staring out into the forest and enjoying being somewhere completely new.  I loved the Firefly, but this was the first night I’d spent off it since New Year’s and the change was nice.  I’d have to go camping more often.

 

...aaand now there were a dozen golden eyes glistening at me from outside my small cluster of trees.  I sighed, remembering exactly why staying the night outside of an environment I controlled was usually more annoying than it was worth.  “I’m not looking for any trouble.  I’d rather not have to fight anyone tonight.”

 

After a short silence, a large shadow detached itself from the woods and stepped closer, resolving into an enormous lanky man in hide clothing with a moss-covered beard stretching down to his waist.  The eyes turned out to belong to a small pack of wolves trotting at his feet.

 

He studied me and my camp for a minute, giving particular attention to the half-full sack of dog food and my makeshift campfire, and when he spoke his voice was deep and echoing.  

 

“Seek the bird you stole that feather from elsewhere.  I do not give you leave to hunt in my woods.”

 

I raised my eyebrows.  “Um… the feather was a gift, actually.  The Firebird’s gone to get something to eat but she’ll be here tomorrow.”

 

 The probably-a-local-forest-spirit blinked.  After a pause, he asked, “Then what brings you to my woods?”

 

“Baba Yaga horse-napped my pegasus friend Blackjack.  I’m getting him back.  Am I heading in the right direction?”  I watched the creature warily as he thought about it.

 

“Possibly,” he said slowly.  “The river to the east of here caught fire a couple of months ago.  It’s not the first time that’s happened, but it usually takes an oil spill first.  I hadn’t heard she was back, but I don’t get much news out here and I suppose it’s been long enough.” 

 

This guy probably wasn’t a friend of hers, at least, if he didn’t know she was around.  I gestured towards the soup.  "Would you like to join me for dinner? I'd love to hear more about the area. I'm Percy Jackson, by the way. "

 

"I am the Leshy of these woods," He said, looking at me contemplatively, then finally nodded and said, "and I accept your hospitality, Percy Jackson."

 

As the soup started bubbling and I served it up, I asked, "Is there anything you can tell me about what I’ll be going up against?  I’m not from around here, and I know Baba Yaga’s name but not much else.  My teachers were worried about a different mythology.”

 

He took the bowl— I only had the one, and was using the soup can as a dish— and started eating as I spread the dog food out in front of his wolves, who all took a few bites before leaving it alone in disinterest.  

 

“Well,” the Leshy said thoughtfully— I was beginning to get the idea that he didn’t speak any other way— “she’s a stingy old witch.  A young girl once asked to light her own candle at Baba Yaga’s fire, and she made the girl do her chores for days to pay for the light.  She’s not going to let your horse go willingly.”

 

“Can you tell me what I’d be up against if I have to fight her?”

 

“She’s never been killed on her own lands, only outside of them,” he said, “and many have tried.  She just heals anything they do, and if she has a weakness while she’s at home I don’t know it.  Apart from that… she has the strength of a dozen men, enchants objects, can control the daylight and darkness if she talks to the Riders… all of the usual witch powers, I suppose.”

 

“Usual.  Sure.”  I could probably think about it like fighting an invulnerable child of Hecate.  So, basically, like going up against Circe again, and Annabeth wasn’t with me this time.  I decided to check, “Is she known for poisoning people at all?  Or transformations, turning people to guinea pigs, that sort of thing?”

 

He looked at me oddly.  “She will eat you, if you give her the chance.  Poisoning or transforming you would be a waste of human meat.”

 

It said something about my life that hearing that was a relief.

 

As we ate, he elaborated on the story of the girl he’d mentioned, Vasilisa.  Her evil stepmother had sent her to Baba Yaga to light her candle, but she had been protected by the blessing of her dead mother during the days she had spent working for Baba Yaga.  I didn’t qualify for the ‘dead-mother’s-blessing’ thing, fortunately, so I’d have to figure something else out when I got there. 

 

When we were finished, the Leshy said “I wish you good fortune in rescuing your friend” and got up to leave.  I waved good-by as he and his wolves faded back into the forest, then started to clean up and get ready for bed.

 

The sun the next morning was announced by another snowmobile rider, this one dressed in white and grey with a white snowmobile, and lunchtime found me avoiding a third one in red and gold.  True to Rachel’s prophecy, I’d had to pass both Dawn and Day before I got where I actually needed to be.

 

“I’m guessing this is the river,” I said, squinting to see the far banks.  I didn’t have a phone signal out here and wouldn’t have risked alerting Baba Yaga by using it anyway, but I’d downloaded a map before setting on the trip and a river this large wasn’t on it.  I figured it must have been magically expanded or something.

 

Oh, and it was made of fire.  That was also a clue.

 

Yes.  I cannot accompany you any farther if you desire to keep your presence secret, the Firebird said.  Granny Horror will know if I enter her territory.  

 

“This is far enough,” I said as I knelt by the river and stuck my hand in experimentally.  “Thank you.  I’ll let you know how it goes.”

 

…I hope so.  Good luck, Percy Jackson. 

 

She flew away.

 

When she was gone I stood, taking a handful of the… firewater with me.  The liquid was glowing red-hot, like lava but more fluid.  It only felt pleasantly warm to me, but the color wasn’t for show— a few drops that fell on the ground hissed through the snow and set the dead grass on fire before I could smother it.  

 

I could have controlled the water, the way I had with the black water in the nymph’s shrine in Rome, but it would have taken just as much effort as it had back thenm, and I didn’t actually need to to get across.  I made sure my pack was secure— this would be a bad place to drop something— and started walking across the surface of the river.

 

The forest started up again on the far bank, but with taller trees and deeper shadows.  It felt ancient and primeval, in a way the forest on the other side of the river just hadn’t been.  I moved up to the forest edge cautiously, using all of the stealth skills I’d gotten from years of Capture the Flag, but relaxed a bit when I wasn’t immediately accosted by any old ladies.

 

There was a snow-covered path cutting through the trees a bit farther in.  I followed it, but stayed in the woods rather than leave footprints on the path.  Half an hour later, I was glad I had when I heard the faint sound of galloping hoofbeats coming down the path from the way I was heading.  

 

I stepped farther back, under the cover of the branches of a snow-laden pine tree, and watched a small herd run down the path.  Not quite a herd of horses, but I recognized them— hippalektryons, the endangered chicken-ponies I’d last seen at the Triple G ranch.  

 

On the plus side, two of them were young, one a filly with yellow down still covering her undeveloped wings and bottom chicken half, so killing Geryon had kept their eggs safe from being omelets.  On the minus side, they were sweat-covered and panicked, running away from the cackling laughter echoing down the path behind them.

 

An old woman soared behind them, floating in what looked like an enormous version of my mom’s kitchen mortar and propelling herself by pushing off against thin air with an equally large pestle.  She was dressed in gray rags and had long, scraggly white hair and a necklace made of some kind of bone, and the light glinted off her wide smile in a way that looked almost metallic.

 

She passed me halfway up the trees, far too high to reach.  I watched as she punted back the way I came and capped Riptide when she turned another bend in the path and went out of sight.

 

…I’d been hiking in the wrong direction.  I sighed and turned back around.

 

About three hours later there was a break in the trees and I found a clearing the size of a football field, scattered with clumps of horses.  There was a herd of pegasi near my end, a couple of groups of normal-looking horses trying to get at the dry grass under the snow a bit farther on, and a mixed herd of pegasi and the hippalektryons from earlier at the far end of the clearing near a large dilapidated stable.  With a surge of relief, I saw Blackjack in the far group.

 

As I circled the pasture, I got more confused.  He looked… fine.  No visible injuries, nothing binding his wings, nothing that would stop him from just flying away.

 

“Blackjack,” I hissed once I was as close as I could get without leaving the trees.

 

Boss! You came!

 

He pushed his way through the other horses, who followed behind him; I recognized the pegasi as the rest of the Black Sea herd that Blackjack had been traveling with.  Blackjack came up to me and shoved his head against my chest in greeting hard enough to make me stagger back a step.

 

“Of course I came,” I said as I began to run my hands over his wings to check for injuries.  “What happened?  Why are you still here?”

 

We got caught by the crazy lady and can’t leave.  When we tried to go past the river we just wound up flying back here.  You’ve got to get us out of here!

 

“I will,” I assured him.  “Not sure how yet, it sounds like Baba Yaga is hard to kill when she’s at home, but we’ll come up with something.  How often does she leave?”

 

Blackjack gave the impression of a shrug.  

 

We were the last group to come in, until the chickens got here just now, so maybe every week or so?

 

We are not chickens!, a rooster-stallion with bright red feathers squawked, rearing back slightly on his claws and spreading his wings in challenge.

 

I’m calling it like I—

 

“Thanks, Blackjack,” I said hastily, “and what about you guys?  The last time I saw your herd you were in the Labyrinth— did Baba Yaga steal you from there, or did you get away from the Ranch yourself, Mr…?”

 

Foghorn, my lord, and thank you for killing Geryon, he said.  The witch broke into the ranch two days ago.  She was aiming for the stables, but the flesh-eaters bit her, and she diverted to our pasture.  The entrance she found to the maze has already disappeared, and I do not think she will rustle the ranch again.  I do not know what or where her next target will be.”

 

We can ask the other herds, a roan pegasus mare— Nina, if I recalled correctly— suggested.  They’ve been here longer.

 

“Sure,” I said.  “How about the other pegasus herd, how long have they been around?”

 

Nina paused and looked awkwardly back at the rest of her herd.  

 

Ah, my lord…

 

They aren’t pegasi, boss,  Blackjack said.  I didn’t catch the name, but they’re not Greek.  None of the other horses are.

 

I blinked, and looked at the field again.  Now that it had been pointed out, I could see it— the group on the far side of the field were shorter and stockier than the pegasi around me, with longer manes and tails and a shaggier coat.  

 

All of the horses looked like they’d grouped up by mythology, actually.  The Greek pegasi and hippalektryons were together around me, the other winged horses were in their own herd, what looked like an Arabian breed were huddled together for warmth off to the side, and a fourth type that looked as well-adjusted to the cold as the not-pegasi were grazing on snow-covered grass in a group in the center. 

 

“Can we all still talk to each other?” I asked.  I hadn’t quite been able to understand the donkeys back in Morocco, and I wasn’t sure if the ‘speak to horses’ power stretched as far as non-Greek, probably-magical horses.

 

We haven’t had a problem, boss.

 

The pegasi spread out over the field, and soon Blackjack, Nina, Foghorn and I were joined in the trees by a representative from each of the other herds.  The not-pegasus, a golden stallion named Khasar, turned out to be a Tulpar, a winged steppe horse from farther out east.  The two normal-looking horses were both from magical breeds renowned for their speed.  The Arabian representative was a dappled gray mare named Safanad who could ‘run swifter than the wind’, and the last horse was a palomino Russian stallion named Dima who could ‘circle the world in a day’.

 

There was a reason the herds hadn’t been mixing.  The posturing over who was faster began immediately.

 

“So!” I broke into the growing argument, “Great to meet you all.  I’m Percy, I’m an American demigod, I’m on a quest to get you all out of here, and I have a prophecy that says Baba Yaga needs to die for that to happen, but the Leshy in the neighboring woods told me she’s kind of undying as long as she’s in her territory.  I’m open to suggestions on how to ambush her or lure her out of here.”

 

The Russian, Dima, snorted and turned away from Safanad with a dismissive toss of his mane, focusing on me.

 

Baba Yaga leaves and returns nearly every day searching for more additions to our number, but without knowing her target it would be difficult to lie in wait for her.  I am a descendant of the horses freed when the witch last died, and I can tell you how Prince Ivan managed it, but I will need your oath first.

 

I raised my eyebrows.  “Why?  What oath?”

 

I will tell you how to make Baba Yaga undo the binding on your friend, if you swear to me now that you will not simply fly away and leave us behind if the opportunity arises.  Swear that you will free us all.

 

“I’m going to do that anyway, you know.  This isn’t necessary.”

 

Swear it anyway.

 

I shrugged.  Like I’d said, it didn’t matter.  “All right.  I swear on the Styx, I won’t leave you guys trapped here even if Blackjack and I get the chance to escape.”

 

Thunder boomed overhead, and I winced.  Hopefully that didn’t raise any alerts.

 

Done!  Then listen, Percy Jackson, as I tell you the tale of the mighty queen Marya Morevna, who bound and imprisoned Koschei the Deathless, and of her husband Ivan, who foolishly freed him…

 

An hour later, I followed the path through the woods to a second, much smaller clearing.  At the center of the clearing there was a cottage raised about a story into the air by a pair of enormous chicken legs, one of which was scratching idly at the ground.  The house was surrounded by a fence made of bones, with human skulls on spikes placed at even intervals on the fence.

 

“Cheerful,” I muttered as I walked up to the waist-high front gate, which was using joints as hinges.  One of the spikes bordering the gate had a skull; the other was empty.  I raised my voice.  “Hello?  Anyone home?  My name is Percy Jackson and I’m looking for Baba Yaga!”

 

There was a pregnant pause, and then the house turned so its open front door was facing me.  Baba Yaga leaned out and in a slow, creaky voice said, “And here I’d thought the world had forgotten old Granny Horror.  Why have you come to visit me, Percy Jackson?”

 

“I need a horse fit for a hero.  They say you’ll trade for work in your stables.”

 

There was a pause, and then she said, “I have done that, yes.  Do they also say what happens if you fail to take good care of my herds?”

 

“I’m not worried,” I said.

 

“Ha!  Down, hut!  Open, gate!   Let this brave young man in!”  The hut knelt, and Baba Yaga stepped down the dangling stairs at the entrance and out to the gate, which clicked open.  She was taller than me, and gaunt, almost emaciated.  “And do you have prior experience as a stableboy?  Who are your references?”

 

I blinked at her.  “You’re kidding.”

 

She gave me a wide smile.  From this close up I could see that her teeth ended in sharp points and were either covered or made of a shiny gray metal.  “I’m certainly not going to train a new worker, Percy Jackson!  If you’re going to be taking care of my herds, you need to know what you’re doing as soon as you step out of that gate!” 

 

I was traveling the world to avoid job interviews.  Blackjack had better appreciate this.  “Well, I spent six summers at Camp Half-Blood, in the United States, from ages twelve to seventeen, and taking care of the camp stables was a major part of my chores.  The reference would be…uh, Chiron the Centaur, I suppose— he’s currently in charge of the camp… um, and I also worked briefly at the Triple G Ranch, back when it was still under Geryon.  The management changed shortly after I finished cleaning their stables, but it was a big job and Eurytion should still remember me.”

 

Baba Yaga nodded thoughtfully.  “Good, good.  Now, none of the horses are shod- if one of them cracked a hoof—

 

“What is your preferred method for treating colic—

 

“What would you do if a pregnant mare started giving birth, and you were the only human around—”

 

And finally, “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

 

“Far away from here, with one of your horses,” I said flatly.

 

She cackled again, and said, “We’ll see.  Very well, here is the bargain, Percy Jackson.  For three days, you will guard and tend to my horses.  If the entire herd is present and accounted for at the end of each day, you may choose one horse from my herd as payment.  If you lose any of them,” and she peered down at me with another sharp smile, “then I will eat you, and your head will go on that empty post.  Do you agree?”

 

I checked, “I pick one horse, and you’ll let me leave your land with them safely?”

 

“If you get that far, yes.  I’ll escort you to the shore myself.”  Her smile widened.

 

“Then, yes, I agree.”  

 

We shook on it, and with that, she gave me a tour of the horse fields and stables, where everyone pretended they’d never seen me before and I pretended I couldn’t understand the conversations going on around me.  The rider on the black snowmobile passed us while we were hiking on the path back, waving as he passed, and the hut door swung open invitingly onto a well-lit room dominated by a large brick oven taking up most of the far wall.

 

I paused in the door before stepping over the threshold.  All of the gossip I’d been getting from the locals said that Baba Yaga preferred to get some work out of people before she ate them.  I was probably safe until our deal was over, one way or the other.

 

I was still glad to be invulnerable.  

 

I dropped my backpack in the corner while Baba Yaga spread a large tablecloth on the wooden table that had been nailed to a side wall.  Around us, everything that wasn’t similarly bolted down shuddered and shifted as the kneeling hut got its feet back under it and rose into the air.

 

I wasn’t seeing much of a pantry, so I offered, “I’ve got some canned and dried food with me if you’d like some.”

 

She scoffed and looked down at the tablecloth.  “Food and drink.”

 

The table was immediately covered with a dozen different dishes, all smelling delicious.  The centerpiece was a roast chicken, surrounded by beef stroganoff, blini, and several dishes I didn’t know the name of but that were probably also Russian.  “...Never mind.  Nice tablecloth.”

 

Baba Yaga started to pile food on the enormous platter in front of her, and gestured at the more normal-sized plate on the other side of the table. “Sit, eat!  You’re too skinny— nothing but skin and bones!”

 

I took some food from the dishes she had already sampled.  It was all excellent, enough so that I let Baba Yaga push seconds on me to ‘fatten me up’.  I passed on the flask of vodka and stuck with the carafe of water and the tea and hot water from the samovar at the end of the table.  

 

After dinner Baba Yaga returned all of the dishes to the center of the tablecloth with a ‘thank you’, and everything disappeared.  She folded it up and stretched out on the brick top of the oven, the warmest part of the room, while I spread out my sleeping bag in the corner.  With a whisper, the candles that had been lighting the room went out and the oven door swung shut on the softly glowing coals, leaving the room dark.  The witch started snoring quickly, apparently dead to the world.  I did not sleep well that night.

 

Baba Yaga began stirring before dawn, waking me out of a light doze.  After another meal from the tablecloth in the morning, she let the hut kneel and shoved me out the door as the sun rose with a gleeful “remember our bargain!”, before taking off in her mortar.  

 

I went down to the pasture, where there wasn’t a single horse in sight.  Baba Yaga had relaxed her restrictions on the herd just to mess with me.  For these three days, all of the horses would be able to travel as far away as their respective limbs could take them.  

 

I took a deep breath and went into the run-down stables to do the job I had been hired for.  I mucked out the stalls and put out feed and water and fresh hay, then fashioned the leftover clean hay into something comfortable enough to catch up on my sleep.

 

It was late afternoon when the horses began to trickle in.  The hippalektryons were first— they couldn’t fly as well or run as far as any of the others and had just been foraging elsewhere in Baba Yaga’s land.  I grabbed the grooming gear from the stables and had gotten through most of the flock by the time Blackjack and the rest of the pegasi flew in for their turns.  The Russian herd came in third, as the sun began to reach towards the horizon, and Dima walked over to me with his ears flattened against his skull.

 

They’re not back yet?

 

“They’ve got time.”

 

Not much of it!  Where are they?  This isn’t part of the plan!

 

“Plans can change.  Do you want to go next?”  I gave Blackjack’s neck a rub and gestured at Dima with the currycomb.  

 

Why are you so calm about this?!  

 

“This was always a big ask,” I said quietly, swapping the currycomb for a hoof pick and kneeling.  He lifted a hoof automatically when I squeezed his fetlock.  “The Greek horses trust me to get them out of here.  You believe in your fairy tales.  The others don’t know me, might not care how this went last time, and might just want to run free instead of walking back into prison.”

 

I got that.  I’d have gone nuts if I was stuck here for weeks.

 

We are still trapped, Dima snapped.  She’s just made our leashes longer!

 

I shrugged, moving to the next hoof.  “Prove it.  It only takes one horse to decide they like their chances of outrunning Baba Yaga’s magic better than your plan.”

 

He pulled it out of my hands and backed up, nostrils flaring.  This is not a game, Percy Jackson.  Baba Yaga will happily kill you.

 

Hey, don’t count us out so easily, Blackjack said.  Boss can take the creepy lady.

 

“Thanks, Blackjack,” I said as I stood back up.  “Dima, don’t worry about it.  I’m okay with trying this the traditional way, but Plan B has always been to just fight her.  We’ve got this.”

 

…I wish I shared your confidence.

 

“Seriously, relax.  Besides,” and I pointed behind him, towards the east, where a wedge of flying horses had just dropped below the clouds, “we might get to do this your way after all.”

 

I was grooming the Tulpar herd as Baba Yaga sailed over the treetops into the pasture, framed by the last rays of sunlight.  Her smile dropped when she saw the horses around me, but started growing again as she did the headcount and came up fourteen short.  

 

I reached into my pocket, fingering my pen, and then looked past Baba Yaga towards the edge of the clearing.  As the sun set completely, I took my hand back out, empty.

 

“Well, Percy Jackson, I seem to be missing eight fine mares and six fine stallions.  Where are my horses?”

 

We’re right here, Safanad said as the fourteenth Arabian came out of the woods.  

 

“They’re right behind you,” I said to keep acting like I couldn’t hear the horses speak.  

 

Baba Yaga whirled away from me and paused, probably counting them, then stalked over to Safanad and hissed, “Why are you back?”

 

Um…birds.

 

“Birds,” she repeated flatly.

 

Yes, Safanad said with more confidence, birds.  Thousands of them.  Clawing at us and trying to peck out our eyes, until we turned around and came back.  It was awful.  

 

“Ah.  You’re one of those,” Baba Yaga said sourly, turning back to me.  “Let me guess, you rescue animals in trouble, if you see them?”

 

“Usually,” I said.

 

“Feed them?”

 

“There was this hungry bird a few days ago…”

 

“Spare their lives when they’re at your mercy, instead of eating them?”

 

“I guess?” I said.  “I don’t hunt for food much.”

 

She scoffed and turned away towards the path to her hut, saying, “Finish up here.  If you take too long I’ll make you climb the hut legs to get inside.”

 

Everyone waited until she was out of sight before the chatter broke out.  Dima said accusingly, You cut that close.

 

Safanad flicked her tail dismissively at him, but gave me an apologetic look and said,  We went south.  The days are longer there, and we lost track of time.  We will not race the sunset again.

 

“No harm done,” I said.  “Let me get your coats and hooves before you eat.”

 

I got the remaining horses groomed and settled before heading back to the hut, where Baba Yaga was chowing through a meal as large as the one from last night.  Her attitude was noticeably colder now that she wasn’t going to be able to try to eat me for at least another day, and I didn’t sleep any better that night than I had the one before.

 

She kicked me out at dawn again on my second day on the job, without the gloating this time.  I remembered to bring my sleeping bag with me today, and napped until the horses wandered back with time to spare.  Baba Yaga came back at the end of the day and took a cursory headcount, without showing any surprise that there were no horses missing.

 

“What was it this time?” she asked resignedly.

 

Lions, the Tulpar herd leader Khasar said cheerfully.  Roaring and clawing.  Everywhere.

 

“You can fly!”

 

…They were scary lions.

 

Baba Yaga made a strangled growl of frustration and stalked down the path.  I watched until she was completely out of sight, told them, “She’s gone,” and ambled after her as the muffled snickers behind me turned into howls of laughter.  

 

On the third day, I took all of my gear with me when I left the cabin.  Night the Snowmobile Rider arrived with everyone present and accounted for, and Baba Yaga pinched the bridge of her nose as she asked, “And what drove you back here today?”

 

Sharks, Nina said.

 

Baba Yaga looked at me incredulously while I fought to keep my face straight, then turned back to Nina and asked, “Why were you even in the water?”

 

Foghorn then decided to jump in.  Because the bees chased us there.

 

And the snakes, Blackjack added.

 

I decided I should probably cut this short before Baba Yaga caught on.  It wasn’t like I was supposed to know I was interrupting anyone.  “Baba Yaga.  All of the horses are here.  Can I go?”

 

She looked like her magic tablecloth had served her a meal of lemons, but she said, “Yes, Percy Jackson.  Your tasks are complete and you may select one of my horses as your payment.”

 

“I choose him,” I said, pointing to Blackjack.  

 

“And as promised, I will take you to the edge of my lands and you may leave.”

 

The horses’ hidden laughter had died out by the time I grabbed my stuff from the stables and mounted.  The herd watched in silence as Blackjack cantered off and Baba Yaga followed us.  This was the turning point, and they knew it.

 

We covered the distance it had taken me hours to hike in less than half an hour, and Baba Yaga landed at the edge of the River of Fire and waved us on.  Blackjack spread his wings and took to the air to soar low over the river, leaving Baba Yaga’s land behind easily, with the spell restricting his movement at least theoretically gone.

 

I had Riptide out and ready to uncap, with my other hand wound tightly into Blackjack’s mane.  Baba Yaga had stuck to the letter of her agreement, but this whole plan sort of relied on her not sticking to the spirit.  The problem was, she knew the patterns we had been mimicking better than we did— there was always the chance that she’d just write Blackjack off as a loss and let us leave.  If she did, we’d be back to square one.

 

So it was a relief when, a few wingbeats later, we both heard the soft ‘thud’ of her pestle pushing off the ground.  I ducked while Blackjack jerked right.

 

Hang on, boss!

 

Baba Yaga sailed overhead, scoring a glancing blow on my backpack but not managing to unseat me the way she had been clearly aiming for, and came to a stop a dozen feet above the river surface.

 

“So you’re not letting me leave peacefully, then?” I yelled at her rhetorically, sword in hand, while Blackjack backwinged and made a sharp turn to avoid Baba Yaga’s patch of air.

 

“Granny Horror keeps her promises, Percy Jackson!  I did let you leave my land peacefully,” she called back, her smile glinting in the firelight of the river, “but you didn’t think I’d just let one of my horses fly away, did you?”

 

“Not really, no,” I said, tapping Blackjack on the neck.

 

We were kind of counting on it, actually, Blackjack added smugly as he stopped trying to stay in the air and came in for a landing on the surface of the river.  

 

Baba Yaga stretched out a hand in shock as she watched Blackjack apparently commit suicide.  Her expression turned confused as he landed safely on the firewater, then dismayed again she realized that a) she didn’t know how we were pulling this off and b) that we were between her and the shore.  

 

She pushed off with her pestle, trying to send the mortar higher in the air, but it was too late.  The tidal wave of firewater I had been focusing on ever since the glow had come into view surged downriver and washed over us all, sweeping her away while Blackjack focused on keeping his footing and I focused on keeping us dry and unaffected by the magic water.  

 

After a few long breaths while the wave receded and the river settled, the glowing water began to dim until the only thing lighting it was the reflection of the rising moon.  The banks came closer, going from a slow-moving river the width of the Mississippi to something barely larger than a stream.

 

I think that got her, boss.

 

“Yeah.  Let's let everyone else know.”

 

Blackjack took a running start down the stream to get into the air, rising high and fast now that we didn’t need to keep Baba Yaga near the water’s surface.  The forest he soared over was thinner and less threatening, with moonlight that reached through shorter and younger trees to touch the stumps of the forest giants that had been cut down years ago.

 

We were met halfway by the rest, with the pegasus and Tulpar herds circling us and calling out congratulations and ‘hey, you didn’t die’s and the ground-bound horses doing the same from below us, with the slower hippalektryons bringing up the rear and soaring into the air in shorter hops.  We all went back to the largest clearing, now looking like it might have once been a logging camp, where Blackjack retold the short fight in lurid and somewhat exaggerated detail.

 

It was cold and the stables they had been staying in didn’t exist anymore, so after some final thank-yous and suggestions that we visit if we were ever in their various homes, the Russian, Tulpar and Arabian herds left to travel back to wherever they’d been when Baba Yaga had horsenapped them.  After waving them off, I asked Foghorn, “What will you do now?  Are you staying out here, or heading back to the Ranch?”

 

Foghorn snorted and tossed his mane in rejection.

 

Eurytion was a kinder owner than Geryon, but he was still our owner.  We will take our chances out here.  

 

I nodded.  “I’m glad.  Good luck, and call if you need help.  Either from me or any of the satyrs out in America, if you can’t reach me.”

 

Thank you, my lord.  May you have safe travels.

 

The rooster-stallion trotted back to his herd and they merged into the wood, heading south.  I said my good-byes to the pegasus herd and headed down the path to the smaller clearing to give Blackjack the space to say his own farewells in private.  The bone fence was gone, thankfully, and so was the hut.  There wasn’t even the remnant of a repurposed structure, the way there had been for the ex-stables.  

 

I cracked open my feather tube for the first time in days, and a few minutes later the Firebird soared over the treetops and settled next to me.  

 

The river is gone!  You did it!

 

“Yeah.  We tricked her into freeing Blackjack and she left her territory to get him back.  Thanks for your help in all of this.”  

 

She cocked her head and looked at the center of the clearing, where there was a hut-shaped patch and a series of clawmarks in the snow, the only sign that Baba Yaga had existed here at all.  

 

What’s that?

 

I walked over to see what had caught her attention.  A heap of patterned cloth.  “You’re kidding.  She left that?”

 

I picked it up and brushed it off— white, with blue patterns of dishes and glasses that shifted and danced in the flickering light coming off of the Firebird’s body.  “Best spoil of war ever.”

 

If that is what I think it is, she did not leave it- it simply remained, because she did not create it as she did the rest of her territory, the Firebird said.  She must have picked it up from somewhere, as she did the horses you rescued.  I have not heard stories of the magic tablecloth for many decades- it may have been sitting forgotten on someone’s shelf or warehouse until she discovered it.  

 

I spread it out, picnic-blanket style, and said, “Food and drink.”

 

The spread the tablecloth produced was just as bountiful as when Baba Yaga asked, though with more fresh fruit and plain grains available.  The Firebird snagged a plum to munch on as she said, Take care of it well, and always be polite.  If you insult the food it serves you, everything it makes for you thereafter will be burnt and too salty to eat.  But if you thank it for the food when you are finished, and repair it quickly if it is ever torn, you will never again go hungry.   

 

“Guess I’d better learn how to sew.”  I awkwardly served myself some stew and bread one—handed, before giving up and sticking the feather upright in the ground next to me.  I hadn’t eaten since some trail mix at lunch and was inhaling my meal when Blackjack came down the path.  

 

…Boss, that bird is on fire.

 

I blinked.  “Right, introductions.  Blackjack, this is the Firebird.  She let me know Baba Yaga was grabbing any horses she could find and guided me here.  She’ll be swinging by the ship for apples sometimes while we’re in the area.  Firebird, Blackjack.”

 

The Firebird gave a chirp I assumed was a greeting before aiming for a bowl of cherries.  Blackjack said, Thanks for the help, then, and nice to meet— are those doughnuts?  Where did the picnic come from?

 

“Baba Yaga left her magic tablecloth behind when she disappeared.  Some of the doughnuts are filled with meat, though— be careful.  Firebird says it gets touchy if you don’t like the food.”  I found the jam-filled ones and the plain dough balls and nudged them towards him, along with the cooked oats.  

 

When we were finished, I gave a ‘thanks for the food’ to the tablecloth and the food and dirty dishes disappeared.  Blackjack wanted to stretch his wings some more, so instead of setting up camp we took to the air again, heading back to the Black Sea, with the moonlight and the Firebird lighting our way.

 

---

---

 

Early January, five years after the end of the Second Olympian War

 

Of all of the shocks Jason Grace had gotten in the days since he’d appeared as an amnesiac in New York, this should have been the most minor, but as more and more memories of New Rome came back to him it was the one that stood out most— that Greek demigods didn’t stick around.  There were no older advisors beyond Chiron, no demigod college, no equivalent of the Senate.  Leo and Piper were the two most senior counselors at Camp Half-blood, and they had both been planning to give their positions to a sibling even before it became clear they’d be questing in the coming summer.  There were a few older Greek half-bloods scattered around the West and the large cluster that had recently formed in New York City, but no real intergenerational community.  

 

Case in point:  Percy Jackson, probably the closest thing to Jason’s opposite number in the Greek camp— a child of one of the three sons of Ops, the leader of Camp Half-blood in the final days of the Titan War, and by all accounts a modern Achilles.  But for Camp Half-blood, the formal leadership role had ended there.  Where Jason had been hailed as Praetor and served the Twelfth Legion to the best of his abilities ever since, Percy Jackson had sailed away as soon as he was able.

 

Jason wasn’t sure if he was jealous or repelled.

 

“So, wait, you’re saying you can make ships fly,” the young man in the Iris Message said, “and you never told me?”

 

“Why is that what you’re focusing on?” Piper asked in exasperation from across the small fountain.

 

Leo, next to Piper, spoke over her to say “Oh, now you want to fly?  What happened to ‘oh no, Zeus will blast me out of the sky if I jump a bit too high’?”

 

“It’s a sailing ship, this would have to be another exception—” Percy Jackson started to say, but then the Message cut off and his image disappeared.  

 

Jason sighed.  This was the third time; the Iris Messages didn’t attract monsters the way his new cell phone did, but they also didn’t last long enough to give the full story of their quest to rescue Juno, their parents' multiple personality disorder, and the upcoming Prophecy of the Seven.

 

It was Percy’s turn to call back.  It took him a bit longer than it had before, and when the Message came through he was standing, replaced in his hammock by his little sister.  She giggled and reached out at them, and the hammock swung to counter her weight and stop her from falling out without Percy seeming to pay any attention.

 

“Why aren’t you surprised to find out our parents have different aspects?” Jason asked, continuing Piper’s train of thought.  

 

“I kind of am,” Percy said, “but some things make a lot more sense now, you know?  I think I saw Artemis switch to your version a few months ago— black hair and a crown with a moon?”

 

“You met Diana?” Jason asked.

 

“Yeah, she was Artemis when she first boarded, then her hair changed color when she got angry about—” he hesitated.  “— never mind.”

 

“Wait, why was Artemis visiting—” Piper started to ask.

 

“So, prophecy!  Let’s talk about that before the drachma runs out,” Percy said quickly.

 

Leo glanced at Piper, who raised her eyebrows and shrugged, and accepted the change in subject.  He said, “Alright.  Seven demigods are supposed to fight Mommy Earth, so we're assembling the Avengers.  You in on this one?”

 

Percy rubbed his forehead.  “Yeah.  I’ve gotten my marching orders already, Dad swung by on my birthday.  Let me know when you’re getting ready to go to San Francisco and I’ll meet you there.”

 

It took Jason another beat to realize what that meant.  Another difference— how much more involved the gods were.  New Rome had Terminus, and Jason had quested for Bacchus that one time, but he’d still met more Olympians in the past few days than in the rest of his life combined.  Bacchus worked here, as Dionysus.  Every Greek demigod in the camp had been to Olympus, had met their divine parent at least once.  Sometimes much more than once.  

 

“I’ll give you a call when I have a timeline, but if I get the entire cabin on it we’ll definitely be ready by summer,” Leo said.

 

“What are you doing about school?” Percy asked.

 

“‘Family emergency’,” Leo said, doing air-quotes.  “Apparently sometimes that means ‘gap semester with the possibility of a horrible death at the end’.”

 

“Sounds good,” Percy said.  “Is there anything else I need to know right now?"

 

He waited for the headshakes, then said his good-byes, ending with, “It was good to meet you, Grace.”

 

With a wave of his arm, the rainbow stopped on the far end, and the image disappeared.  Jason looked at his new friends, who had visibly relaxed at Percy Jackson’s easy acceptance of the quest.  “Were you worried he’d say no?”

 

“A bit,” Piper answered.  “Percy’s not even living in the country anymore.  If he’d decided to sit this one out people probably wouldn't have blamed him, but it wouldn’t have been great for morale.”

 

“Or great for actually doing the quest,” Leo said, starting to disassemble the misting attachment he’d put onto the fountain.  “I don’t know about you two, but if we’re going to war with Mommy Earth, I want the guy who can solo armies with me.”

 

Jason could see what Piper meant.  It would be better to head that off, if he could.  “You don’t need to fight armies if you can build a ship that can fly over them, or Charmspeak them into putting down their weapons.  Even if he couldn’t have come along, we’d have managed.”

 

The New Rome tactics courses were emphatic about that— no one could be irreplaceable.  Graveyards were filled with the bones of indispensable men.

 

Leo shrugged.  “Sure.  Still glad he’ll be on board.”

 

Jason eyed him, but let it go for the moment.  “Do you have anyone else you want to invite?  We’ll need to pick up some legionnaires from New Rome, but I don’t think it matters too much if we have three Greeks and four Romans or vice versa.”

 

Piper shook her head.  “No-one who’s free to come.  And I’m not sure if we actually can invite people, not if Poseidon already told Percy he needed to join in.  Maybe everyone else is going to be signed up by their parents too.”

 

“Not in New Rome,” Jason said sourly.  “We don’t see the gods much.  Or at all.” 

 

Leo and Piper both looked at him in concern, and Jason added hastily, “So the augur will probably use the sacred chickens to pick out the rest of the team.”

 

It worked.  Leo repeated, “Sacred chickens?”

 

Jason nodded solemnly.  “It’s very important to have the approval of the chickens.  If they don’t like you, nothing is going to go well for your quest.”

 

“You’re kidding,” Piper said flatly.

 

“Nope.  That’s not even the weirdest way to perform the auguries— before he went to law school, the last augur used to cut open teddy bears and read the future in the stuffing.  The girl before him was a legacy of the West Wind and used the movement of the clouds, which was great for predicting the weather for the quest but not really whether or not it would be successful.  She’s a weatherwoman now, I think—”

 

As they headed back to the cabin complex for the morning inspection, Jason regaled them with the story of the many divination methods the augurs of New Rome had used to tell the future in his seventeen years at Camp Jupiter.  Piper peeled off when they got to Cabin Ten, but instead of heading towards Cabin Nine across the field, Leo turned to Jason.  

 

“We’ve all been there.  Gods don’t make great parents.  Meeting Zeus… Jupiter, whatever, wouldn't suddenly make him Father of the Year.”

 

Alright.  They were doing this after all.  “It’d be nice to have the chance.”

 

“Having your father say he liked your steam-powered chicken-chucker years later doesn’t make up for not being at the fifth-grade science fair.”

 

Jason blinked.  “Okay?”

 

Leo sighed.  “Look, I’m just saying, don’t get your hopes up.  You might meet him in all this, and you might find out that he’s been keeping an eye on you your entire life.  That’s not actually going to change anything.  It’ll still be an awkward talk with a guy you’ve never met before.” 

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason said stiffly as he turned towards the end of the field.  Leo let him go this time. 

---

 

After the Iris Message disappeared, I leaned against the mast under the apple branch, absently swinging a giggling Estelle in the hammock as I stared out over Sydney Harbor.

 

“I’m back,” my mom called as she boarded.  

 

I shook myself out of memories of war.  “Did Paul get out okay?”

 

Since I couldn’t go back to the US this year, my Christmas gift to my family had been a day-long plane ride with a three-year-old.  Somehow, we were all still speaking to each other.  Paul had needed to fly back for the start of the school semester, but Mom and Estelle would be sailing with me to New Zealand and flying home from there.

 

“Yes,” Mom said cheerfully, before looking at me more closely.  “Is everything all right?”

 

I hesitated for a minute, long enough for her smile to fade.  She raised an eyebrow at me, and I finally sighed and said, “Can we talk?”

 

Mom knew more about what I’d been up to the last few years than the Camp Half-Blood crowd did.  She’d worried about Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi, and worried more when I finally told her how it had ended and that I’d been told to stay away from the States.  Now I filled her in on what we’d learned about the next Great Prophecy.

 

“...and if this goes badly, if we lose, it would be… bad,” I said awkwardly, “but some places would probably deal with it better than others.”

 

“What do you mean?” Mom asked.  “If the earth is rising up against humanity, I don’t think getting out of New York is going to help much.”

 

I was guessing, mostly, but, “Gaia.  Greek earth… and Roman earth, I guess… rising up against Western civilization.  It’d probably be bad everywhere, we’re all connected to each other, but outside of the West it probably wouldn’t be… city-sized-sinkholes-under-New-York bad, or whatever her plan is.”

 

“What are you suggesting?”

 

I thought for a second, then pinched together a small section of my necklace, the part knotted around the golden rice sheath, and asked it to remember that it had once been part of a river.  The bit I pinched off flowed into its own small ring, leaving the now-slightly-shorter braid unbroken around my neck.  I finally unhooked the small bronze mirror from the mast closest to the gangplank and handed them all to Mom.  

 

“What are these?”

 

“Gifts from friends.  India,” as I pointed at the hair, “Japan,” the rice, “and China,” the mirror.  “If things go bad… like, mythologically bad, and you needed help, they’d give you a hand.  Toss the braid into the Ganges River, offer the rice at any shrine to Inari, or leave the mirror at a statue of Guan Yu.”

 

Mom’s eyebrows had been getting higher as I spoke.  “You want us to leave?”

 

“Maybe?” I said.  “If things look like they’re getting weird, maybe summer vacation should be a bit farther away this year.  You’ve still got the gold coins I left with you.  They’d make a decent nest egg, no matter what happens to the dollar.”

 

“How worried are you about this?”

 

Mom and Paul, asleep in a Prius for a full day while the Battle of Manhattan raged around them.  Pandora’s jar, appearing in the back seat of the car when things appeared most hopeless, when I’d be most tempted to open it.

 

 I closed my eyes and breathed.

 

“Never mind,” Mom said quietly.

 

“...if this thing with Gaia turns out fine, then all that happens is you’ll have had a fun vacation and some notes for your next book,” I finally said.  Mom’s second novel had just been accepted for publication, and she was using this trip to research the third.  “You’ve been looking at my pictures for years, but it’s not the same as being there.”

 

She was silent for a minute, absently watching Estelle.  

 

It wouldn’t happen again.  I let my voice drop, lower and slower, as I focused on convincing her.  

 

“You’ve never seen the caves of Ellora in Aurangabad, each one a temple carved into the face of the cliffs.  You’ve never watched the morning mist rising around the sandstone pillars of Wulingyuan.  You’ve never heard the whispering of the wind in the bamboo forests of Arashiyama, or bought your food from the boats of the floating market of Srinagar.  You could spend the summer—”

 

“All right,” Mom said wryly, holding up a hand in surrender.  “All right.  I’ll discuss it with Paul when we’re home.”

 

I relaxed.  “You’ll have fun.”

 

She looked at the artifacts in her hands.  “So that was… the Ganges River, Inari, and…?”

 

“Guan Yu.”

 

“... let me write that down.”

 

I followed her partway down the hatch.  “Oh, and the mirror will always reflect something’s true appearance, so you should use it to check people if you don’t think you can see through the Mist… and if you lose the rice anywhere outside one of Inari’s shrines, I’d need to get it reforged if I ever want kids, so don’t lose it.”

 

“What?” 

 

“Gotta go, the munchkin’s running away.”

 

“Percy!”

 

Estelle had finally gotten bored with the hammock and was making a break for the gangplank, which gave me a convenient reason to avoid discussing my sex life with my mother.  A trailing rope coiled around her and swung her, shrieking with laughter, into my arms.  “Again!”

 

I dropped her and swung her around the mast like a tetherball, aiming for Mom, who was coming back up the ladder.  Mom caught Estelle and hefted her, squirming, onto her hip.  “Percy…”

 

I raised my hands defensively.  “You asked if I was using protection, I said yes, do you really want details?”

 

She sighed.  “Just… be careful.  Please.  About everything— we’re going to come back this summer to find you waiting at home, got it?”

 

I smiled.  “Sure, Mom.”

 

It wasn’t a promise I knew I could keep, and she knew that as well as I did.  I made it anyway, and she smiled at me sadly.  

 

They’d be safe, at least.

 

She took Estelle below deck.  After a few minutes I looked down at the dock.  “Nothing to say?”

 

“You’re not doing yourself any favors.  But you knew that,” Ares said. 

 

I bared my teeth at him.  “It’s not like any of you but Dad would care about what happens to them.”

 

“Nah, not really,” he said.  “But if you want the gossip to die down, you should stop reminding everyone you’ve got friends on the other side. ”

 

I took a deep breath, trying to let the anger from his words and presence pass through me.  Ares didn’t come by nearly as often as Guan Yu had— I think mostly just when he got bored enough that fighting me seemed like the most entertaining thing he could be doing— but it was often enough that I wasn’t affected by his aura anymore unless he was either deliberately trying to use it or unless I was already mad.  “Whatever.  Are we doing this?”

 

He smirked and drew his sword with a ‘come at me’ gesture.  He’d never come onto the Firefly, and I hadn’t ever invited him aboard.  I glanced across the docks— empty, fortunately, because Ares would think it was funny to get me on the news for fighting with him again— and jumped down to join him. 

---

 

New York, February, Five-and-a-half years after the end of the Second Olympian War.

 

Annabeth blinked and looked again.  Yes, that was her mother, and she was still reading a subway map.  

 

The afternoon commuters at 34th and Herald eddied around Athena without noticing the goddess in her island of open space.  She was dressed for a hike, with her long black hair pulled into a casual ponytail, a backpack on her back, and a walking stick in one hand.    

 

“Mom?  Were you waiting for me?”  Annabeth asked as she stepped into the bubble of space.  If Athena was here for her it would be a first, and there wasn’t really any reason for her to; Annabeth had been making the trip to Olympus on her own ever since the gates re-opened.

 

“I must return home,” Athena murmured dreamily, studying the map. “The way is complex. I wish Odysseus were here. He would understand.” 

 

Annabeth frowned.  “Mom?  Athena?”

 

“Athena?”  The goddess turned and looked through Annabeth with no recognition.  “Yes… that was my name.  Before they sacked my city, took my identity, made me into this.”

 

She looked at the plaid shirt she was wearing in disgust, before the expression faded and she turned back to the map.  “I must return home.”

 

A chill ran down Annabeth’s spine.  “You’re Minerva.”

 

“Do not call me that!”  She whirled towards Annabeth and her familiar eyes flared with sudden, startling anger— terrifying, but better than that horrible blankness.  “I used to carry a spear and a shield! I held victory in the palm of my hand! I was so much more than this.”

 

“...Yes,” Annabeth said soothingly, slowly stepping closer.  “You still are.  Do you recognize me, Mom?  I’m Annabeth.  Your daughter.”

 

“My daughter…” Minerva— because Annabeth wouldn’t, couldn’t, call her Athena— repeated. “...yes, my children will avenge me. They must destroy the Romans. Horrible, dishonorable, copycat Romans. Hera argued that we must keep the two camps apart. I said, ‘No, let them fight. Let my children destroy the usurpers’.” 

 

Annabeth had only met Jason Grace in passing, but she didn’t particularly want to destroy him.  And Minerva or not, her mother shouldn’t be so... unhinged.  Nothing Piper had said about Juno suggested that this was typical of the Roman gods.  “What happened to you, Mom?”

 

“Rome happened!  I was replaced!  Sacked!  Looted like a trophy and carted off— away from my beloved homeland.  I lost…” and her voice trailed off, becoming smaller and softer, “...so much.  I swore I would never forgive.  Neither would my children.”  

 

She focused more closely on Annabeth.  “You are my daughter?”

 

 Annabeth swallowed around the tight feeling in her throat.  “Yes.”

 

“Then avenge me.”  The goddess stared into Annabeth’s eyes as she fished a coin— a subway token?— out of her shirt and pressed it into Annabeth’s hand.  “If you are my daughter, follow the Mark and avenge me.”

 

“Mom, you’re…” confused, she couldn’t say, not if she liked her human shape.  Even from Annabeth, even if she’d been in her right mind, her mother would not tolerate that.  “Mom, you’re not the goddess of revenge.  Revenge isn’t wise.”

 

“Revenge is everything to me,” Minerva snapped. “And which of us is wiser?” 

 

“Hera—” and it stung, to call on Hera’s authority and plan here, because Annabeth still stepped in random cow patties in the middle of New York City, but desperate times called for desperate measures, “—Hera is trying to reunite the Greek and Roman camps for the fight against Gaia.  There was a quest, she brought one of their Praetors here as an ambassador—”

 

“Then kill their Praetor!  Kill all the Romans!  Find the Mark, follow it to its source. Witness how Rome has disgraced me, and pledge your vengeance!”

 

“This plan might… might help you,” Annabeth said, choosing her words carefully.  “If your Roman side isn’t happy with the Roman camp—”

 

“Roman side?” Minerva hissed, and Annabeth flinched back.  “They wanted to make a Roman out of me?  They wished me to be their goddess?  Then let them choke on what they have made!  Let them taste of their own evil!  Kill them, daughter.  Kill them all.”

 

Annabeth steeled herself, and met her mother’s grey eyes.  “No.”

 

“Then you are nothing.”  The goddess turned away from her, back to the subway map. Her expression softened, becoming confused and unfocused. “If I could find the route…the way home, then perhaps—”

 

“Mom, please, listen to me—”

 

Minerva didn’t look back.  “Avenge me or leave me. You are no child of mine.” 

 

It hurt, more than if her mother had just decided to smite her directly.  Nothing else she said got a further response, and finally Annabeth turned and pushed her way through the crowd, up and out into the street and towards the Empire State Building.  

 

Get to Olympus, talk to Athena, and her mother would make the wisest choice.  Whatever Minerva had become in Rome was not who she should be.  

 

Finally there, Annabeth went up to the security guard.  “Six hundredth floor, please.”

 

But instead of handing her a key card for the elevator, the personification of Olympus’s connection to the mortal world smiled at her vacantly.  “There’s no such floor, miss.”

 

“What?” Annabeth said.  “I’ve been coming here for months, you know who I am!”

 

“There’s an observation deck on the hundred-and-second floor if you’d like?”

 

“I need to go to work!”

 

The guard shrugged and shook his head regretfully, meeting her eyes. “Sorry, miss.  There’s no such floor.”

 

After a long minute, Annabeth turned and walked away.  

 

She had one other option.  For five years, the gates of Olympus had been closed.  The security guard had been gone, and there had only been one hundred and two floors in the building.  For five years, Annabeth had gone to Olympus by a different route.

 

Annabeth prayed.  

 

“Mom.  Athena.  I would like to come to Olympus.  Please.”

 

She waited, but the lobby around her remained stubbornly unchanged.  

 

Swallowing, Annabeth shuffled through her backpack for her Yankee cap of invisibility, her twelfth birthday gift from her mother.  She walked to where she could faintly see her reflection in a glass display case and put it on.  It did nothing.

 

Annabeth took a few deep breaths, thinking, then turned and strode out of the building while fishing her phone and dagger out of her backpack.  Piper picked up on the second ring, and Annabeth skipped the pleasantries.  “I’m joining your quest.”

 

“Um.  What?” Piper said.  “What happened?  Aren’t you already applying for summer internships?”

 

She’d had an interview with Perkins-Eastman in two weeks.  “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“What.  Happened.”

 

“I met Minerva.”  Annabeth pulled her mother’s coin out of her pocket.  “Greek and Roman reconciliation, right?  Fixing our parents?  I’m in.”

 

As Annabeth watched, the coin changed from an old-fashioned New York subway token to a worn silver drachma engraved with an owl.  The Mark of Athena. 

 

She’d done some research on it a couple of years ago, after Percy told her about meeting the god of the Tiber River, but Cabin Six’s library hadn’t turned up much beyond the occasional mention in diary entries by long-disappeared demigods.  Chiron had clammed up in a way that probably meant he knew what was going on but couldn’t talk about it. 

 

She wondered if he’d be more forthcoming if she asked with the coin in her hand.

---

 

Maui Island, Hawaii.  Late April, Five-and-a-half years after the end of the Second Olympian War

 

I’d just turned off the lights and settled down to sleep when I felt a new presence on the top deck.  I opened my eyes, grimacing, and grabbed my jeans and shirt from my dirty laundry and made myself decent before heading up to meet the queen of the gods.

 

She was regal, standing about a foot taller than me with a gold staff in one hand and a goat-skin cloak slung over her dark dress.  I’d never seen Hera in anything but shimmering white, and the goat skin instead of peacock feathers probably meant… “Lady Juno?”

 

Juno smiled.  “Percy Jackson.”

 

“What brings you here tonight?” I asked warily.

 

“I have come to recruit you for the next prophecy.”

 

I started really hoping that she just didn’t know what the Greek half of the pantheon was doing.  “I’ve actually been recruited already.  You’re like the third person to ask.  I’m joining up with Leo, Piper and Jason when they head to your camp.”

 

“Yes.  When Jason Grace, who disappeared without warning, guides a powerful warship crewed by New Rome’s ancient enemies into New Rome.”  She paused to let that sink in.  “A single ambassador will not succeed.  I always intended to make an exchange.”

 

Just once, it would be nice to be wrong.

 

“You picked Jason because he’s a Praetor, right?  I’m not a counselor anymore.  I left years ago, some of the new kids barely know me.”

 

“They know of you,” Juno countered.  “Even if you are no longer their leader, you remain a legend.  Camp Half-blood would follow you into battle if you ask.”

 

I didn’t like that she was probably right. 

 

“If my family is to be healed, if Rome and Greece can ever work together, you must join us willingly.  I do not wish to repeat the mistakes of the past today,” Juno said quietly.  “Percy Jackson, will you come to Rome?”

 

She was asking.  Why was she asking?

 

“Did Jason agree to let you Mist him and dump him in New York?”

 

Her eyes narrowed in irritation before her face smoothed back into serenity.  “His consent was unnecessary.”

 

I could absolutely guarantee Jason didn’t feel the same way.  “So what’s changed?”

 

She smiled slightly.  “Your father has requested that I not answer that question, but I will tell you if you wish to know.”

 

Artemis had given me the same answer about why I was studying astronomy.  What was the connection between— no.  I wasn’t going there.

 

I forced my thoughts down a different path, towards what Juno wanted me to do.

 

The thing was, the concept of gods having different aspects wasn’t actually new to me.  Guan Yu was both a Buddhist bodhisattva and a Taoist god.  He was always himself, no matter which side was more dominant, so I didn’t think he had it as bad as what Piper had described, but I could usually tell which part of him I was talking to.

 

And he’d told me what happened when his aspects were turned against each other.  Various emperors and dynasties had favored one side and tried to suppress the other, sometimes violently, leaving him in blinding pain and almost completely unable to help the worshippers he was supposed to be protecting.

 

So it wasn’t a new concept.  But I hadn’t connected it to my dad.

 

I didn’t like the thought.

 

“Would you need to mess with my memories?”

“You cannot lie well enough to fool the dogs that guard the Praetors,” Juno said.  “Greeks are not welcome in New Rome, and genuine ignorance of your origin will be your only defense.”

 

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.  I couldn’t believe I was actually considering this.  “When would I get them back?”

 

“They will return naturally over the coming months as your mind works through the Mist.”

 

Except I trusted Hera about as far as I could throw Mrs. O’Leary, and the Juno side wasn’t looking much better.  There were a lot of things I was pretty sure the Olympian Council would like me to forget, and Jason hadn’t gotten everything back yet, four months later.  

 

Well.  When in doubt, force binding oaths on the gods.  “Are you willing to swear that on the Styx?”

 

Her expression darkened.  “You always turn far too easily to the most powerful oath that can be made.”

 

“I wonder why,” I said flatly.  “Swear you’ll give me all of my memories back soon, and I’ll go with you.”

 

She stared down at me, looking like she was running a cost-benefit analysis between smiting the annoying mortal and whatever she had planned for me in the next few months.  Finally, she nodded.  “Done.  I swear on the Styx.  If you come with me voluntarily, I will return any memories you have not already recovered naturally on your next birthday.”

 

Thunder boomed in the clear sky.  I relaxed and looked over at Blackjack, who had woken up when the conversation started and had been watching grimly.  He turned to nudge Mrs. O’Leary awake and said, I’ll let everyone know what happened, boss.

 

I looked back at Juno.  “What about my ship?”

 

“Neptune will ensure it is taken care of.”

 

A few minutes later, I watched as Mrs. O’Leary and Blackjack went into the shadows to Chiron.  I checked my pocket for Riptide, then turned to Juno.  “Alright.”

 

She came within arm’s length and repeated her question from earlier.  “Percy Jackson, will you come to Rome?”

 

Her tone was oddly formal, and I straightened instinctively.  “I… yes.  Yes, I’ll go with you to Rome.”

 

She leaned down to brush a maternal kiss against my forehead.  As the Mist swept over my mind, the last thing I saw was her triumphant smile.   

---

 

Mythology notes:

Tulpar— Winged horses from Turkic mythology, prominently displayed on the state emblem of Kazakhstan.  No source I saw had anything to say on whether the Pegasus and Tulpar myths have a common origin or if ‘stick wings on important land animal’ is just a common way of creating a mythological creature. 

Horses in Marya Morevna— as was implied in the chapter, when he is trying to get a horse to rescue his wife from Koschei the Deathless, Ivan Tsarevich’s kindness to animals is the key to the quest.  He is out hunting for food, but the animals he targets keep begging him not to be eaten, and he spares, in succession, a bird’s nest, a lion’s cub, and a bee’s hive.  Over the three days he worked for Baba Yaga, the horses Ivan was supposed to be watching were driven back to their pastures each day by all of the birds, lions, or bees in the land… which is why Baba Yaga doesn’t question it when her kidnapped horses just start making shit up.