Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Truce?" I offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Me!"

"No, me!"

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

"No fair, you got the last one!"

"I just want his spleen…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If that lava hit me, I was toast.

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

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

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

What the heck?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was a comet hurtling toward the earth.

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

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

Maybe Hades decided to renovate the place.

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

Melting. Fire. Lava.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?" I croaked.

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

The next time I woke I was lying on a comfortable bed with feather pillows and cotton sheets. The cave was divided into sections by white silk curtains. Against one wall stood a large loom and a harp.

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

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

Kind of ironic, I guess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The cave opened onto a green meadow. On the left was a grove of cedar trees and on the right a huge flower garden. Four fountains gurgled in the meadow, each shooting water from the pipes of stone satyrs.

Straight ahead, the grass sloped down to a rocky beach. The waves of a lake lapped against the stones. I could tell it was a lake because...well, I just could. Freshwater. Not salt. The sun sparkled on the water, and the sky was pure blue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You talk in your sleep."

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

"Yes. Who is Annabeth?"

Annabeth.

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

We kissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But my friends—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Manhattan? Apartment?"

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

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

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

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

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

She looked down. "It is my punishment."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scythe hummed from inside the ground.

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

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

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

And, of course, I promptly passed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There it is again," I said.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? But the Titans are evil!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded. "Just like that."

"But...my friends."

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

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

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

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

"Me?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No war. No prophecy. No more taking sides.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surely, my mind was just playing tricks on me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn't the right move.

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

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

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

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

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

"What does that mean?"

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

Chapter Text

It was my twelfth coherent day on Ogygia.

I wasn't exactly sure how, but my scythe was capable of keeping track of time. At least, I was hoping that's what the tick marks on the blade meant—they appeared as little grooves on the long stem of the scythe.

Peculiarly, they seemed to show up like clockwork every day. Ha. See what I did there? Clockwork.

I'm sorry. I think I'm losing my mind.

Well, then, you must be saying. Tell us, Percy! How is life on a magical island?

In one word: streamlined.

Invisible servants brought me food and clothes, showed me to the outdoor shower by carving trails in the sand, and even brought me things to do when I was truly bored.

I can't tell you how many times I've played Mancala against them. I can tell you how many times I've won—it's not a lot though, so I won't. I need to maintain some shred of my dignity.

Outside of getting crushed in a variety of board games by people who weren't there, I spent a lot of time relaxing on the beach, and surfing. Oh, and trying to rehab from whatever happened on that volcano.

It wasn't the easiest process at first. I was way weaker than before. Granted, I'd been bedridden for what felt like a long time, so the fact that I lost so much muscle and weight wasn't the craziest thing in the world. Even if it did make lifting this scythe a hassle.

The process became way easier when I realized that the island had some magical properties that I could use to my advantage.

Firstly, there were these fruits littered all around the island. Not your average run-of-the-mill fruits you'd find in a grocery store, mind you.

These things were insane—they were double the size of their outside-of-the-island counterparts, and every kind of fruit came in at least four different colors.

I'm talking blue bananas, pink pineapples, and green apples! Wait. Those exist outside of the island too. Oops.

My entire diet basically became fruit, and somehow, I didn't get tired of it. The servants brought me in it all kinds of ways. Diced-up apples, mango smoothies, dragonfruit chopped into a bowl of strawberries—every time I got hungry, boom, the fruit was there.

Listen, I know that fruit in and of itself doesn't sound like the most exciting thing in the world, but I swear, these things made Ambrosia seem like overhyped candy.

Each bite sparked an awakening in my senses and dialed all of my physical properties up to eleven. It was like the healthy version of chugging a Red Bull.

One nibble, and suddenly I was attuned to every rustle in the palm leaves, every distant call of the birds around the island. Eating a whole fruit made me feel like I had enough energy to lift a car.

It wasn't just the fact the fruit tasted good, even though that was a lot of it. The fruit also did some freaky things to my body. It felt like it made my muscles hit the fast-forward button. I'm talking about growth that would make Hercules give you a nod of approval.

I was already back to my level of fitness before the whole volcano incident. Actually, at this point, I felt even stronger, in all of the right ways.

I wasn't bulky, though. I just felt leaner and faster, and I looked tanner and more defined. If anything, I felt more like that magic version of me in Circe's mirror than ever before.

Fatigue was a distant memory, and my senses felt like they were sharper than they'd ever been before. Zeus, half the time I felt like I could fight Luke blindfolded and still win. Not that I'd want to try.

Plus, the island was an awesome backdrop to all the training. Something about it just felt good all the time. It was the kind of place where, even if you closed your eyes, you felt more awake than you'd ever been in the waking world. There was definitely something magic about the place. It was undeniable.

In a way, it felt like the island's magic didn't just exist; it embraced me. It was like the island itself was conspiring with the universe to keep me not just alive, but vibrantly so.

I hadn't seen Calypso since I'd washed back up on her shore for the second time. but I kind of found myself missing her company. I hadn't been forced to be alone like this in a long time, and the isolation was driving me crazy.

"Crazy enough to talk to you," I said, looking at my distorted reflection in the bronze edge of the scythe. My fingers tingled as the hilt vibrated again. "And crazy enough to think you can understand me. Let's go for a walk, I guess."

It was a moonlit night, and the beach seemed to come alive in the soft, silvery glow.

The sand was a pale, shimmering gold, like a celestial carpet stretching out beneath my feet. It felt like the waves, bathed in moonlight, were whispering secrets as they gently lapped at the shore.

They carried with them the lullaby of the sea, a soothing melody that seemed to caress the very edges of my consciousness. Each ripple in the water sparkled with bioluminescent magic, leaving trails of faint, ethereal light in their wake.

I wasn't fooled, though. I'd seen how quickly that water could turn against you. Kind of like everything else on the island, it looked pretty, but I knew that in the right situation, it would show me just how deadly it was.

Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze, their fronds rustling like whispers in the night. Their silhouettes danced against the backdrop of a star-studded sky.

Crunch, crunch, crunch!

Barely ten yards into my walk, I swiveled my head and saw Calypso working in her garden, off in the distance. I scooped up my scythe and ran toward her before she could disappear again.

"Calypso!" I called as I got closer. The blood in my ears roared as I got closer to her, and I saw the gentle swell of her smile in the moonlight. "Hey!"

"Percy," She greeted quietly. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. There was a slight lag to her movements. She seemed really tired. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Where have you been?" I panted. "I haven't seen you in, like, five days."

"Oh. Yes," Calypso nodded, a strand of hair falling out of her bun and dangling in front of her face. Sighing, she gently placed a pot with some glowing yellow flowers on the ground. She wiped her hands on her dress. "I didn't think you would want to see me."

"What?" I replied incredulously. I felt a surge of energy fizzle through my body, and a smile formed on my face as I took in some deep breaths. Being this close to her, the air felt dangerously charged for some reason. "Why wouldn't I want to see you?"

"I promised to get you off the island," Calypso's lip trembled at the end of her sentence. She gestured around the island. "And…now you're stuck here, as I am."

"That wasn't your fault," I stepped a bit closer to her. "I thought we established that you weren't an evil sorceress already. My, uh, lack of hamster body kind of speaks to that."

"I suppose," Calypso fought a smile. She looked up, and I noticed the redness around her eyes. My stomach dropped a little—was that because of me? "Still, though…it was never my intention to have you trapped here, as I have been. Believe me, I swear I don't know what could've happened. The only way the raft is made to malfunction is if I, myself, attempt to escape the island with it. It has never, ever reacted that way."

"I mean, I know I don't have a perfect memory, or whatever, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember you getting on there with me," I replied, scratching the back of my neck. "It was just me and scythey. Scytheo? I'm not sold on any names yet."

The scythe hummed, and I nodded toward it, "Yeah, he's not sold, either. We're workshopping some stuff."

"Wait," Calypso said, striding forward. Her eyes were hooked to the curve of my scythe, and her eyebrows scrunched together. "How long have you had this scythe?"

"Since I got here," I tried not to back away from Calypso. Her expression was intense with a capital I. For some reason, I felt compelled to pull it back. The scary look didn't seem right on her face. It accentuated the bags under her eyes, and given the way she was shrouded in darkness, at the right angle, she seemed like a reanimated corpse. "Why?"

"Percy," Calypso's eyes flicked back and forth between me and the scythe. Her fingers briefly stretched toward me, but she fought back the urge. "I've never seen that weapon before. Not when you first fell here, not when I was healing you, not when you were leaving…never. This is my first time seeing it."

"You're kidding right?" I smirked, but the smirk slowly died at the deadpan look on Calypso's face. "How have you not seen it? It's huge! And I've been hobbling around with it, trying to swing it…are you seriously telling me you haven't seen any of that?"

"No," Calypso replied instantly. Her tone changed, too. There was a hard edge to her voice, a roughness that was making every instinct in my body start to flare up. "Every time I've seen you, you've been alone, or swinging your sword. I've never seen this weapon before."

"My sword?" My brow furrowed. I felt around in my pocket, fumbling for Riptide. My fingers brushed past Quintus' dog whistle but found nothing else. "No, that doesn't make sense. My sword, it's…it's always supposed to come back to my pocket!"

"May I hold your scythe?" Calypso asked politely. She held out her hands, and her fingers looked like they were trembling.

"Sure," I handed her the scythe and checked my other pocket. Still nothing. I groaned, "I can't believe I lost my sword. Zoe trusted me with it!"

"Percy," Calypso said, her voice breathy. I turned to face her, and her cheeks were flushed. Her fingernails were turning blue. "This scythe is overflowing with magic."

"Magic? What are you talking about?"

"Ancient magic," Calypso continued, handing me back the weapon. I grabbed it, and it instantly melded back into my hand. A content hum vibrated through the hilt. "The kind that…no matter. Where did you get this weapon?"

"The forge, before it exploded and sent me here. These dog things were working on it. I picked it up before…the fire…" I tried to remember.

My scythe emitted a low whine, and I turned back to Calypso only to find her shifting.

It was as if the boundaries of reality were warping right before my eyes. Her limbs contorted and elongated, and her body shifted, growing sleek and bluish-gray. The ugly snout of the elder telekhine from before swirled to life, and I screamed, stumbling backward.

My heart began racing. My forehead grew slick with sweat, and the air around me intensified with heat.

BOOM!

Fire exploded around me like a cocoon. The flames weren't the familiar orange and red hues I'd seen on Mt. St. Helens, not by a long shot. They glowed with colors that I'd never seen fire burn with before, shifting from iridescent blues to malevolent greens and purples.

The inferno exuded a chilling, malevolent presence that reached out to consume not just the world around me, but my very sanity.

Their chaotic dance was an unsettling, discordant symphony, a cacophony of shrieks and whispers that gnawed at my mind.

Percy…open your mind!

The searing heat was no longer a slightly uncomfortable embrace, but a tormenting grasp, threatening to consume me whole. The flames bore sigils and symbols that I couldn't recognize.

You need to open your mind!

"Fire," I whispered. "There's fire everywhere!"

My scalp itched, and I began clawing at my shirt, trying to rip it off before the fire could get to me. I couldn't let it get to me. I'd die. I'd shrivel up and—

"Percy," Calpyo's soothing voice said. The fire suddenly vanished, as if it had been sucked up by an invisible vacuum cleaner. Thankfully, the monster was gone, too, and Calpyso's pretty face swam into view. Her hands were on my face. "It's okay, you're safe. I'm here with you."

Thankfully, she didn't look creepy anymore. I blinked away some dark spots in my vision. I was heaving even more now, "What's happening to me? That's not…I could've sworn I saw you shapeshift…and the fire was all purple and blue and stuff!"

"I'm not sure. At first, I merely thought it was a phobia," Calypso said gently, her thumbs gently brushing against my cheekbones. She pursed her lips. "A reaction to your near-death by the fire."

Calypso wet her lips, and my eyes flicked down for a second. I swallowed, but my throat felt dry. "And now?"

"Now, I'm not sure," She replied, her voice barely louder than a whisper. One of her hands brushed against my heart for a few moments, and it seemed like she was listening intently for something. After a while, her eyes narrowed a little, and her hands dropped to her side.

"Come, Percy," Calypso led me to the beach with the grace of a dancer, her footsteps barely leaving an imprint in the sand. It felt like she was taking great care to not leave any lasting impression on the sand. Kind of like she respected it. "Let's go to the beach."

The scent of salt and the distant call of an owl filled the air, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves provided a soothing backdrop to our every step. As we reached the shoreline, the moonlight painted the world in soft, silvery hues.

Calypso's eyes gleamed brightly in the moonlight. She extended her arms, kind of like those conductors I'd seen at school plays. With a wave of her hands, a black rug appeared on the beach, and it glistened like it'd been woven from the very essence of the night itself.

"Rest with me," Calypso said softly, and I sat beside her on the rug. My scythe lay gently next to us, propped into the sand. After being alone for a few days, Calypso's presence felt like a cup of hot cocoa. She made my insides feel all fuzzy and warm. "What do you know of the titans?"

My instant reaction was to say 'they're evil' and leave it at that, but I remembered our argument from earlier. I didn't want to make her more upset than she already was. I stared at the stars for a few moments and said, "Not much. I know that they fought the gods in a war a long time ago. And, uh, that they don't think too fondly of humans."

"You would be correct," Calypso sighed, falling on her back and staring up at the stars with me. She looked like she was glowing in the moonlight. "The titans of old didn't think of mortals as much more than livestock. I would be lying if I said this was a sentiment that got any better as time went on. Sure, not all of us were like that, but the vast majority were. This didn't play a factor in the war, of course, but I guess it's still something important for you to know."

"So the gods didn't love us either?"

"Not in the slightest," Calypso sighed. "At first, anyway. Eventually, they warmed up to you. Began to fight alongside you. Fight for you."

I laid down next to Calypso. We brushed shoulders, and her body felt warm against mine. Silence filled the night for a few minutes, before I asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Calypso rolled on her side, so we were face-to-face. Her breath smelled like cherries. "Everything the gods did, the Titans wanted to match. So, when the mortals began lobbying in favor of the gods, when they became enthralled enough with their promises to fight on their behalf, the titans tried to swing some favor back in their direction by offering power to mortals."

"Did it work?" I wondered aloud. "I mean, even if they were offering some sweet deals, I wouldn't be able to look past the whole wanting me dead thing. Especially if the gods were being nicer about it."

"Not really. Some still took the deal. It was presented as the ultimate boon of power, a surefire way for one to gain the ability to harness titanic power," Calypso continued, her eyes darkening. Calypso's smile lines faded into a scowl. "It didn't work. Not exactly, anyway. The power transformed those mortals into something else entirely. Have you ever wondered why there are so many monsters?"

"I thought they just…you know," I pressed the tips of my index fingers together a few times. "Made more. The old-fashioned way. With the birds and bees. Or, uh, harpies and hellhounds, I guess."

The unsettling expression melted into a sweet smile. Calypso giggled and reached her hand forward. This time, I didn't back away. Her thumb brushed my cheek again. "You're not entirely wrong. But even then, you need to consider how they could have grown so exponentially. I'll give you an example. You see, the first telekehines, they were the children of Pontus and Gaea. Those were the originals, but there were barely a dozen of them, if that. The second and subsequent waves of those monsters, including some of the ones you fought, were created out of the blood that fell on the earth when Ouranos was castrated by Kronos. The boon that had been promised to humans was a curse."

"Oh…" I said, suddenly feeling very queasy. "So the telekhines who tried to kill me…were humans once upon a time?"

"Yes. Or, well, that's my best guess. It's too hard to tell now. Millennia of being monsters would have corrupted any humanity they had left. All they can and will do now is serve the titans," Calypso returned. She propped herself on her elbow and looked over me, to my scythe, "And that scythe they were working on? They must've been imbuing it with power, preparing it for the Titan Lord."

I felt like someone kicked me in the stomach with a steel-toed boot. My scythe warbled in the sand like it could feel my surprise. "You mean I've been carrying around his weapon all this time?"

"Not exactly," Calypso said after a few moments. She wet her lips again and her mouth opened and closed a few times, before she said, "I suppose the most apt description would be that, well, they were preparing it for him, but you got to it first. The weapon is keyed to you."

Calypso might as well have been speaking a different language. I could hear her and see her pretty face, but the words coming out of her mouth were getting all scrambled in my head. "I'm so lost right now. Are you telling me scythe is…mine?"

"Saying the scythe is yours is kind of right, but it's not the full story. That weapon is sentient, to some degree. I don't know the full extent of its power, but when I held it, I could tell it had a mind of its own. I'm not very good at this kind of stuff, but I'm good enough to tell it likes you. That it chose you," Calypso placed a hand on my shoulder. "It didn't like being held by me. If I had to guess, that scythe isn't going to work for the Titan Lord now. It's not going to work for anyone but you."

"That's…a lot to take in," I replied instantly. I sat up a little. My brain felt like it was overheating—one more bombshell, and I'd feel it leak out of my ears like an old-timey cartoon. "All of this is a lot to take in. I don't even know where to start."

"I understand," Calypso whispered, a small smile on her face. I wasn't sure if she was using magic or not, but I felt like I physically couldn't pry myself away from her. "Then don't."

"Don't? Don't what?"

"Don't worry about all of that right now," Calypso repeated airily. She pointed up at the sky. "It's a beautiful night. It's just you and me here. None of those things matter."

An uneasy feeling wormed through my gut. "But, how am I supposed to—"

Calypso shifted a little bit and slowly moved her hand from my shoulder to my chest. She pushed down gently, and I dropped to my back—she was deceptively strong.

Before I could say anything, she rolled over and put her head on my chest. Her brown hair fanned around her like a curtain, and she smiled up at me. The uneasy feeling melted into a mix of embarrassment and warmth. "Like this. Tell me, Percy. What do you see?"

What did I see?

Her. She was all I could see.

Calypso's eyes were like two pools of liquid caramel, warm and inviting. I could see about a dozen different emotions in them. Her smile unfolded with the delicate grace of unfurling petals, revealing perfect teeth that gleamed like pearls in the moonlight.

Dumbly, I answered, "You."

"As much as I like that," Calypso murmured, tracing an invisible path upon my chest, her fingers stepping out a miniature waltz. "That's not what I meant."

Her fingers gently caught my chin, and pushed my head backward, forcing me to look up.

I don't even know how to describe it.

The night sky on Ogygia was a masterpiece.

It looked like the kind of painting you'd see in a museum, hidden behind four layers of glass to make sure no one could ever alter it. The kind of painting that was someone's life's work.

The sky was all kinds of shades of dark. It was like staring into the deepest part of the ocean.

I could almost believe that someone tried a million times to get the shade just right. That they stood there, throwing together all kinds of violets, blues, and blacks, until finally—bam, perfection.

The stars, like diamonds scattered carelessly, twinkled so brightly I could almost believe they were within arms reach. Sometimes it was hard to remember that each star was basically a glowing metaphor, with each one representing ancient heroes and forgotten myths.

They hung there, like the dreams of the universe, flickering and sparkling, casting their stories across the vast canvas of the sky.

My mind flashed back to Artemis cradling Zoe's head and whispering her goodbyes.

No, the constellations weren't just stories—to be in the stars was to be loved in a way that transcended life or death. It was to be cared about in a way that said: I won't let anyone forget you. Not as long as the sky is there.

"See," Calypso said, tilting her head. Not that I'd say it out loud, but in that moment, she looked prettier than all of the stars combined. "Isn't that better?"

"Yeah," I agreed, warmth spreading throughout my entire body. Zoe's constellation looked extra bright tonight. "It is. Thank you."

"Of course, my brave one," Calypso mumbled, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on my chest. Suddenly, she said, "Tell me a story."

My heart skipped a few beats. "You want me to tell you a story? Like a real story, or a fairy tale?"

Calypso giggled in that restrained way again, like she didn't want to make me feel all self-conscious. "Whichever you prefer."

"Let's see," I mused, looking back at the stars for inspiration. "I've got one, if you want. It's about a girl leaving home."

"Is it, now?" Calypso mumbled sleepily, resting her cheek on my chest again. She yawned. "Tell me."

"Well, it's about this girl named Zoe. She left home when she was pretty young. Well, actually, it's more like she got kicked out by her Dad. He wasn't the nicest guy."

Calypso sighed. Her warm breath hit a sensitive spot on my neck, and I tried not to shiver. "I can relate to that."

My arm was falling asleep, so I moved it, and Calypso lightly grabbed it and placed it on her back. I could feel the muscles in her back move as she shifted on me. My cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree, and I thanked every god I knew that it was dark out here.

"Um…right, so, for a while, she struggled with what to do. Uh, she got kicked out for hanging out with this guy she had a crush on, and he kind of left her all alone after. Zoe bounced around for a while, doing off jobs and stuff, just trying to stay afloat. Eventually, though, she realized she was destined for more than just being cast out and betrayed. Zoe had her whole life to live, and she wasn't going to stop just because of some bad luck."

"What did she decide to do?"

I knew I was embellishing a little, but I knew enough about Zoe's story to assume some things and fill in the blanks. Besides, Calypso did say she wanted a fairy tale. Well, actually, she said she didn't care, but she felt like she could use a fairy tale.

"Well, she knew wasn't just an ordinary being. She was strong and resilient. Eventually, the gods took notice of this and she was made a huntress, a warrior of Artemis, sworn to the moon and stars. Over the years, Zoe encountered challenges that tested the very fabric of her existence. She fought all kinds of monsters and gods, rescued little girls, and showed them how to be capable warriors like she was."

Calypso's eyes drooped, and she snuggled closer to me. I continued, "In the end, she fought her against her destiny tooth and nail, and saved Artemis' life. Now, she's a constellation."

"She reminds me of my sister," Calypso muttered after a while. "Lipara. She was cast out of our home, too."

My Greek mythology wasn't the best, I'll admit that, but even then, I struggled to place that name. "Lipara?"

Calypso picked up her head. "Yes. Lipara. Perseverance. We were seven sisters."

A trickle of ice worked into my veins. "Wait, what? Zoe had six other sisters too. I knew Atlas had a lot of children, but I never considered the fact that you two could've been, like, sisters. She was a Hesperide."

Calypso's eyes widened, and she suddenly looked more wide awake than ever. Her hands gripped my shirt. "Truly? I think Zoe could have been Lipara, then. What is she up to now? You said she fought against our father…"

The weight of shame and guilt settled on my shoulders like a heavy cloak. I could feel the words clawing at the back of his throat, each syllable carrying the burden of a truth I wished he could shield her from.

I couldn't even begin to imagine what she'd feel…finding out her sister was alive for years, just to find out she died recently.

"She, uh," I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat refusing to dissipate. The memory of Zoe's sacrifice echoed in my mind, her screams a haunting melody that played on the strings of my conscience. I found himself unable to meet Calypso's eyes. My voice wavered, "She died, saving my life. Your father killed her."

"I see," Calypso said quietly, her grip on my shirt loosening. Tears glittered in her eyes, but she managed a smile. "I'm…happy to hear that she lived a fulfilling life, to say the least. You speak of her fondly. Did you know her well?"

"I got to, eventually," Tears made my vision blurry. The idea that Riptide was missing, maybe lost forever, hit me for the first time. The sword that Chiron had thrown me three years ago, the sword that embodied Zoe's power and sacrifice, was gone. Just like that. "My sword…Riptide…she gave me it. And now it's gone."

"I'm sorry," Calypso whispered, placing a hand on my cheek. "She wouldn't have minded, brave one. I know that."

I nodded numbly, wiping the tears out of my eyes. I tried to ignore the hollow feeling in my gut. "Wait, if you were sisters with her, how didn't you know her name?"

"Daughters of Atlas weren't treated very kindly outside of the garden. We all changed our names when the moment called for it. I never knew her as Zoe."

"So, is Calypso your real name, then?"

"No one has ever asked me that," There was a pregnant pause as Calypso gave me another intense look. Her gaze held me captive, making me feel vulnerable and seen in a way I hadn't anticipated—kind of like she was x-raying me. "I haven't used it in a great many years."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I added hastily.

"Aegle," She whispered so softly that I almost didn't hear it over the crashing waves. "It means dazzling light."

"Aegle," I tried out, and she grabbed me a little harder. "I like it. It suits you."

"Thank you," Her voice was low, and a dark expression passed over her face. For a brief second, I swear I saw her eyes change color. Before I could comment on it, though, she smiled and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "For asking. And for the compliment."

I smiled. "What do you want me to call you?"

"Calypso is fine. I…I left Aegle behind a long time ago," Calypso closed her eyes. She yawned again. "But if you call me Aegle, I won't hold it against you, my brave one. It's refreshing to hear…from time to time."

"Right," I said. "Calypso it is, with an Aegle thrown in there once in a while. You got it."

I stared at the night sky, waiting for a response until I heard the soft sounds of snoring. I looked down, and Calypso was out cold, a small line of drool leaking out of her mouth.

I smiled and turned my attention back to the sky, my mind whirling. Now since I was alone, though, all I could think about was Riptide. I wanted it back, more than anything, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out where it could've gone.

It was always supposed to return to me—that's what Chiron had said. Losing it made me feel weak, somehow. Like I couldn't even do that right. I stared back up at Zoe's constellation, the pit in my stomach returning. My throat closed up again. Eventually, I managed to say, "I'm sorry, Zoe."

And then, the weirdest thing happened.

At the edge of her bow, like an arrow, a streak of silver brilliance tore across the velvety expanse of the night sky.

A shooting star?

You're supposed to wish on those, right?

"I wish I had Riptide back," I mumbled, closing my eyes.

AN: Hey y'all!

Sorry for taking some time to update this one, I had to finish storyboarding a lot of things. I'm still finding the right style for the story, and I recognize that it may feel a bit all over the place, so thanks for bearing with me as I figure it out. I think I'm getting closer, though.

I don't have much to say about this one, so I'll keep it short.

Calypso's backstory tends to vary, so I'll just mention that I'm kind of making my own to fit the narrative. I did some research, and while different stories mention different names, for the sake of this story, the Hesperides are as follows: Aegle (now Calypso), Arethusa, Asterope, Chrysothemis, Erythea, Hespererthusa, Hesperia, and Lipara (Zoe). This backstory will be fleshed out more as my story continues, and, of course, Aegle, Calypso's old name, will have some narrative implications as well, so stay tuned to find out what those are. Calypso in this story was imprisoned for supporting her father, the specifics of which will be revealed later. I think it'll be interesting, to say the least.

Riptide isn't gone! Do not fret. I think most of you will be able to tell where this is going…

Anyway, stay tuned for more. Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter, and comment your thoughts and theories. I'm very excited for this one. See you all!

- Maroon

Chapter Text

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of a hooting bird. It sounded vaguely exotic, like something I would've heard on a National Geographic documentary back in grade school. I kept my eyes closed and tried to roll around to find a comfortable spot, hoping I'd be able to lull myself back to sleep.

For a second, I thought it was going to work. The sand felt perfectly cushioned underneath me, and the morning sun was warm and steady, like I was a loaf of bread baking in an oven. I could feel the heat pooling in my stomach, spreading to my chest, and slowly traveling to my face.

Right as I felt the edges of my consciousness start to darken, two more birds joined in with their own loud calls, forming an off-key chorus that shattered any hope of getting more sleep. It was like an entire battalion of Nancy Bobofits had taken up opera, and were performing their first show right above my head.

I groaned and cracked open my eyes. The glare of the sun through the foliage made dark spots dance across my vision. My back felt stiff from sleeping on the ground, and kernels of sand clung to my shirt like leopard spots.

"You're awake, my brave one," Calypso's voice came from nearby. I turned to see her kneeling beside me, sunlight glowing around her hair as she smiled. She leaned over and planted a light kiss on my cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My eyelids felt heavy. "I did. Surprisingly, really. I didn't expect the beach to be so comfortable."

"You're a Son of Poseidon, are you not?" Calypso mumbled. A wry smile appeared on her face, and she gestured out at the ocean. "This is your element. Your calling."

"Maybe it is," I said. "Doesn't always feel like it, though."

"That doesn't make it yours any less," she said softly. "Whether you're aware of it or not, your divinity will always follow you, like a moth to a flame. When you feel as though you've completely been forgotten, that's when it is at its strongest."

I studied her face for a moment, noticing the freckles that dotted her nose. "You say that, but I don't know if it's true. The water tried to turn me into a smoothie a few days ago."

"That was different."

"Was it?"

"The enchantments around this island exist to keep me from leaving," She said, her voice dropping a little. She perched next to me, her arms resting on her knees, and I noticed the way her dress slid across the sand. Calypso balanced on the balls of her feet and said, "They're very powerful. Older than some gods. The water wasn't working against you. It was searching for me. Searching to stop me."

My heart dropped a bit at her forlorn look. "I feel like that's a little overkill."

"This is a prison," she whispered, her eyes closing briefly as she placed a hand over her heart. She turned her head, looking out across the horizon as if her words would drift away with the morning breeze.

"You shouldn't be cooped up here," I murmured, watching her. "I mean, I get it. You supported a Titan. But he was your dad."

"It's alright." Calypso opened her eyes and gave me a sad smile. She slowly moved her hand to my knee and squeezed. "We don't have to talk about it anymore. My punishment could have been far worse—should have been far worse, all things considered. The island is beautiful."

Beautiful was an understatement.

The island looked like a dream that had been waiting for centuries to be seen. Palm trees and tropical plants formed a lush green canopy to my left, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze.

Calypso's gardens spread out in vibrant patches around the little house behind us, each corner blooming with flowers and plants that seemed to thrive purely on the magic of the island itself. Lavender bushes lined the winding stone path, their purple blossoms swaying gently, filling the air with a soothing, herbal scent that drifted on the breeze. Clusters of hibiscus and bougainvillea burst forth in brilliant reds, pinks, and oranges, their petals like small bursts of fire against the soft green of the leaves. Tall sunflowers turned their golden heads to follow the path of the sun, towering protectively over beds of smaller, delicate blooms—forget-me-nots, daisies, and lilies of every shade. Honeybees hummed, moving purposefully from blossom to blossom, and the occasional bird would swoop down, chirping a brief hello before disappearing into the dense treetops.

It was like a scene out of a Disney movie. "Beautiful? Really? I hadn't noticed."

Calypso chuckled softly, a spark of light flitting through her irises. She rolled off her feet and laid down beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. "Really, really."

"Yeah?"

Her eyes darkened as she watched me. Suddenly, she sat up, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt and tugging. "Come on, I'll prove it to you."

I felt her fingers tingling through the fabric as she pulled me up, and I rolled my shoulders to stretch out the stiffness in my back. A series of cracks and pops filled the silence as I shifted my weight. "Can't we just take your word for it?"

"We're past that now." Her voice was soft and smooth, and her eyes sparkled like the morning sun dancing across the waves. She held out her hand. "Come."

"Where to?" I rubbed the last bit of sleep from my eyes. "We just woke up."

She grinned. "You just woke up," she corrected, laughter bubbling under her words. "Come on, come on. Trust me. You'll like it."

I huffed, pretending to look skeptical, but I couldn't help grinning. "That's what my mom said right before she signed me up for ballet—" I began, yelping as Calypso tugged me up and practically dragged me across the beach.

Walking across the beach felt amazing. The sand warmed my feet, soft and powdery, stretching in rippling waves toward a dense wall of greenery at the far end. Calypso led me along the shoreline, and the breeze carried that familiar saltiness of the sea, mixed with something sweeter—a hint of blossoms tucked just out of sight.

It reminded me a bit of camp. There was this stretch of woods, tucked right behind my cabin, that was absolutely gorgeous. It was covered in a tunnel of trees and had stretches of dirt that cut right next to Long Island Sound. We used it to smuggle food out of the dining pavilion. It was just out of the harpy's normal patrol, and I could usually convince the naiads to not rat us out to Chiron and Mr. D.

"Why are you so quiet, my brave one?" Calypso murmured. She reached back and interlaced her fingers with mine. "Do you not want to go?"

"No, I do," I assured her. I took another look out at the ocean. "I just miss home a bit."

"Home," Calypso tried out the word. "New York?"

"Kind of. Camp."

"Camp. Right. With your friends. Grover and Annabeth." Calypso remembered. A dark shadow streaked across her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. A breeze passed through the beach, over the undulating dunes. "It's natural to miss them. They mean a lot to you. I'm sure they miss you, too."

"I sure hope so."

"I know so, my brave one."

The salty air stung my eyes. "Do you think they're looking for me?"

Calypso was silent for a moment. She hesitated, "I am unsure."

"You said time works differently on this island?" A pit formed in my stomach. Annabeth's face swam into view in my mind's eye, and I thought about our kiss. Calypso's hand felt cold in mine, like a sliver of ice. "I…how…"

"I do not know, my brave one," Calypso returned somberly. Her fingers tightened around mine, almost painfully. "I've been here for a long time. I wouldn't know where to even begin answering your question. I don't know what the world is like outside of this island."

"Right," I mumbled, forcing a smile. "Sorry. I keep forgetting."

"That's alright," Calypso whispered, her voice heavy with something I couldn't quite place. "I wish I could forget, too, sometimes."

We walked in comfortable silence, passing clusters of driftwood bleached white by years of sun and surf. Crabs scuttled out from under the driftwood and burrowed quickly back into the sand as we approached, while seabirds circled high above, their cries softening as we neared the cliffside. The waves grew gentler. The wind stopped howling.

"This is more my speed," I said. "It's calmer here."

"I like this part of the beach, too," Calypso agreed. "It's almost like the island's own secret."

The water in front of us was a shade of blue-green that looked unreal, the kind of color I'd only seen in magazines. It was so clear that it seemed almost fake, nothing like the dark, stormy waters of Long Island. "This place…reminds me of Montauk."

"Montauk?" Calypso repeated slowly. "Another place?"

"Right. I keep forgetting. It's, um…near home," I explained. "There's this old pastel cabin my mom and I used to go to every summer. Ever since I was a kid. It's half-buried in the dunes, and it has this smell, you know? Seaweed and sunshine. There's always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and the sea is almost too cold to swim in." I trailed off, realizing how much I missed it. It felt like my chest was being drilled by a jackhammer. It felt hard to talk, all of a sudden. "It's not anything like here. But it's…special."

"Special places don't need a reason to be," Calypso murmured, her voice soft. She looked at me with a kindness that made my chest ache. "It sounds wonderful, Percy."

"It is. It really is. We've been going there since I was a baby. My mom's been going even longer. It was the place where she'd met my dad."

"Lord Poseidon," Even out on this island, I felt the ripple of power as she said my dad's name. The waves receded a bit, and the sea grew a bit choppier. A weird sense of foreboding twisted my insides into knots. Calypso gave me a tight smile. "That sounds wonderful, Percy."

"It is. I guess there's no real reason this place reminds me of it. The water's all different, and the weather is way nicer."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's always gloomy over there," I remembered. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I feel calmer when I'm over there."

"And here?" Calypso pressed, staring at me with those chocolate eyes. They were like melty chocolate chip cookies. More insistently this time, she asked, "And here?"

I hesitated, feeling a tightness in my throat. "I feel calm here too. Like all the bad things in my life—the mistakes, the regrets, all of it—it feels like they're not so heavy. Like they're washed away."

Calypso's lips curved into a smile, "Good."

We reached the edge of the beach, where rocks and thick patches of greenery formed a natural barrier. Calypso slipped through an archway in the rocks, half-hidden by hanging vines and ferns. I ducked under a cluster of leaves to follow her, and the air instantly felt cooler, filled with the earthy scent of damp soil and salt. We walked through a narrow passage, with towering cliffs on either side casting a soft shadow over us.

The path suddenly opened up, revealing the hidden lagoon. The sight took my breath away. The water stretched out in front of me like a glistening gem, perfectly clear and undisturbed. Sunlight streamed through an opening in the cliffs, casting a warm, dappled light over the surface. A gentle waterfall trickled down one side, filling the air with its melodic rush. Wildflowers and vines spilled down the rock walls, colors bursting against the deep greens.

Calypso turned to me, her face glowing. "Well? What do you think?"

I could barely find words. "You…you weren't kidding. This is amazing."

"I knew you'd like it," Calypso beamed. "The water is your element. Come on. We need to take a dip."

"Now?"

"We have all the time in the world," Calypso said softly. She bent and slid the edge of her dress off her shoulders. Stabbing heat pinpricked up my chest and closed its fingers around my throat. Tanned, unblemished skin swam into view as she slowly stepped out of her dress, clad only in her underwear. She caught my gaze. "Do you see something you like?"

I couldn't look away. My brain felt like it was melting. "Um—I—sorry—"

"Who said you had to apologize?" Calypso whispered, stepping back to me and grabbing my arm. Her body pressed up against mine, and I could smell cranberries on her breath. Her eyes flicked to my lips, and she gently guided my hand to her lower back. My fingers dug into her skin. "You don't need to apologize for anything, my brave one."

My spine tingled. A steady fire spread in my chest. I stumbled through my words a few times before settling on, "You look…really nice."

"Why thank you," Calypso giggled, gently tugging on my shirt again. "You're not going to get in the water like this, are you?"

"Nope," I squeaked.

"Good," She purred, backing away from me and taking light, dainty steps toward the lagoon. The water splashed as she waded into the shallow end. A moan escaped from her lips. "The water is amazing, Percy. Come."

I pulled my shirt over my head and followed her in. As I took my first step into the water, I noticed Calypso watching me hungrily, droplets of water clinging to her like diamonds. Her skin looked like it was glowing in the low light of the lagoon, and a shiver ran up my leg.

When the water reached my chest, I took a deep breath, letting myself float in its warmth. It was like the whole lagoon was embracing me, welcoming me. For the first time in a long time, I felt…at peace.

Calypso waded over, her eyes shining as she threw her arms around my neck and pressed close. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"It is," I murmured, lost in the warmth and the quiet.

Calypso cocked her head to the side. Strands of wet hair clung to her forehead. She licked her lips, "You look different."

My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. "Do I?"

"You do," Calypso whispered, placing a hand on my cheek. Her thumb brushed my cheekbone. "Not in a bad way. I actually rather like it."

"Well, I'm happy to hear that," I smiled.

Calypso smiled and rested her head on my shoulder. The fruity smell of her shampoo wafted up to my nostrils, and my head spun. Her skin felt like fire on mine. "Say, Percy?"

"Mmmm?"

"Can you say my name again?"

"Calypso?" I tried, and she shook her head. "Oh, right. Aegle?"

Her body trembled. She opened her mouth, and was about to say something, when the entire lagoon vibrated.

A faint tremor rippled through the water. I froze, looking around, but everything was still. A cloud of dust drifted down from the ceiling, catching the light in a golden haze. For a moment, it was beautiful. But then, another tremor shook the lagoon, this time strong enough to rattle the rocks and send small pebbles splashing into the water.

Calypso gasped, clinging to me. "What…what's happening?"

"I don't know," I said, my stomach twisting as I looked around, suddenly feeling exposed. "Do you get earthquakes out here?"

"Never." Her voice was barely a whisper.

The water quivered around us, sending ripples across the lagoon. Bits of stone crumbled from the cliffs, and the waterfall gushed faster, the water churning like it sensed something was wrong.

A heavy silence settled over us, broken only by Calypso's shaky breath. "Percy, I…I think someone's here."

AN: Happy Halloween! I'd ask you trick or treat, but this is definitely a treat...right? Right? Hahaha, you're not answering. RIGHT?

Jokes aside, happy to return to this project. I have some big plans and have spent the last few months reworking where I wanted this story to go, so I'm happy to finally be in a place where I have enough outlined to keep writing. I'm always nervous about writing without an end goal and veering too far away from the plot, but I think we're good for now.

If you're interested to see where this is going, well, all I'll say is all roads lead to Rome.

This was a light little chapter. I'm aware of that. It kind of served as my 'shake-out' chapter to get back into the vibe of the story, but as you can tell, the plot will be picking up very soon. And no, I didn't forget about Riptide. You will see it again very, very shortly.

Last but not least, if you have any questions or would like to be further in the loop with updates and my current priorities in terms of stories, please join the Discord server. Just take the spaces out of this: Linktr . ee /maroooon

See you soon! And please review your comments/thoughts/theories. It helps me gauge how people perceived the chapter and the things they'd like to see going forward.

- Maroon

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

I sighed and sat on the beach, stuffing my feet into the warm sand. Rays of sun roved over my skin, and I gently laid on my back, staring at the sky.

It was a mosaic of blues, each shade shifting and blending. The deep cobalt of the horizon bled into a softer cerulean, the kind of blue that made me feel weightless—like I could jump in there and float forever.

Wisps of clouds, pale as seafoam, stretched lazily across the expanse, their edges so delicate they looked painted on with the lightest touch. I traced the gradient with my eyes and sighed.

What the hell was going on?

A week ago, I was storming Mt. St. Helens with Annabeth, fighting through a horde of demigods and preparing to risk my life against Kronos. Now, I was relaxing on a magical island for the foreseeable future. Invisible servants brought me food and drinks, and I had a brain-meltingly beautiful roommate. Literally. Whenever I looked at her, it felt like someone was putting jumper cables on my heart and turning up the voltage.

I closed my eyes.

The beach was quiet now; the only noise was the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore. Calypso's seashell windchimes clattered behind me, the noise rumbling against my skull like a massage.

Now, I'll be honest.

When I saw Calypso disappear over the hill behind me, I fully intended to listen to her instructions.

I wasn't a big fan of not doing something just because someone told me not to do it. It ignited this feeling deep in my subconscious that just gave the green light to all my nasty thoughts. It was like a challenge. And I was a lot of things, but I wasn't someone who backed down from a challenge.

Percy, don't open your Christmas presents early. I mean it this time.

Mr. Jackson, stop drawing inappropriate images in the margins of your textbook.

Dude, there's no way you can eat all those hot dogs in under a minute.

I'd been doing things I wasn't supposed to do my whole life. But this? This felt like a special case.

Ogygia is weird. Really weird. They play by different rules over here.

I mean, two seconds ago, the whole sky was running through colors like a mood ring, and the island seemed like it was going to chew me up and spit me out.

And now? Picture perfect. Again.

Calypso was the only one I could trust about this kind of stuff, so when she looked at me with those wide eyes and told me to stay put, I knew I'd try my hardest.

So, I waited about five minutes before I walked back over to the spear.

The majority of my weapon expertise came from the Ares cabin—they had the most variety in weapons, and boy, did they like to show them off. Spears were a dime a dozen. I'd seen all kinds of them.

The most impressive one? Clarisse had a spear named Maimer that she swore by. It was long and reinforced with celestial bronze, and the tip was made of some conductive metal or something. It shot out sparks—sometimes, we used it to light the campfires when it was s'mores night.

I squatted next to the weapon. It was still floating in the air, rotating gently like it was on display.

This spear looked nothing like Clarisse's or even any of the other ones I'd seen. Spears tend to be lighter, yeah, but not this light. The one in front of me looked like the toothpick of weaponry—I felt like if I breathed on it hard enough, it would crumble like that box had.

My fingers inched toward the weapon, and it hummed loudly.

I was hoping it was just charging up, or that I'd lost my mind and was imagining things.

Instead, it stopped floating and rotated, pointing toward me. The tip glistened in the sunlight for a moment and began whistling through the air, heading straight for me like a bat out of hell.

I had about half a second to process the feeling rocketing up my spine. Instinct took over. My muscles tensed.

Before I could think of letting my legs buckle and collapse, a silver shimmer rippled across my chest, spreading like liquid water infused with swirling food coloring. It wasn't like any armor I'd ever seen. It moved like molten mercury, catching the light in dazzling flashes, before solidifying in an instant—a seamless, gleaming shell.

The spear hit the armor with a sickening crunch. I grunted—the force behind the impact knocked all the wind out of my chest. I staggered back, but the armor held firm. Surprisingly, nothing hurt.

The spear dropped to the sand, a shower of gold dust scattering with it. I exhaled, catching my breath, as the armor on my chest began to change.

The silver rippled, moving down my arm, pooling into my hand, and, in an instant, it formed a weapon—a shimmering, silver version of Riptide, solid and real in my grip. I tightened my hold, feeling a surge of power and an eerie sense of calm roll through me. "What?"

"Hey! Nice reflexes, kid!" A voice called from somewhere up the shore.

I looked up to see a tall figure striding down the beach.

He had chocolate-colored skin and hair bleached an otherworldly white, cropped close like he was fresh out of a military ad. His eyes glinted from behind a pair of tortoiseshell shades, and he was dressed in an all-white silk Italian suit.

The suit was charred near his left shoulder, burned a violent shade of red and black. Wisps of smoke were trailing off it, blowing behind him.

"Oh, the air here is just wonderful," He announced, inhaling dramatically. If the fact that he was skipping was any indication, he didn't seem concerned at all about the wound. "I was getting so sick of the stale temple air."

I blinked a few times, "Uh, hey?"

"Hi!" The man returned, waving. "Shit, it's so good to breathe. Dude, you can't let yourself ever get caught up with treaties."

"Treaties?"

"Treaties," The man sighed, stopping in front of me and placing both hands on his hips. "Nasty little shits."

"I'll look out for them," I promised. He nodded enthusiastically, "Is there anywhere in particular I should look out for them, or…"

"Just in general. Fine print is a bitch."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah, man. You think you're signing up for one thing, and then next thing you know," He clapped his hands together and a crack echoed throughout the beach. I jumped. "Boom. trapped. Nowhere to go. No food, no caecuban, no women. I wouldn't wish it upon my worst—"

"Kaaji!" A bolt of light shot out from behind me, illuminating the beach in a strobing red.

"Ah, so you were the witch. Interesting," The man simply sighed as the spell careened toward him. He waved his hand as it reached his face and the bolt winked out of existence. "I'd probably recommend not doing that again—"

I turned and saw Calypso storming out of the house, her eyes ablaze. She threw another bolt of magic at the man, "Begone!"

"Oh, we're going retro? Okay. Silence, wench," he said, waving his hand almost gleefully. A mirror shimmered into existence, reflecting her bolt at the house, where it blasted the chimney into rubble. A flock of birds roosting on the roof squawked frantically and took off into the distance.

"Yikes!" He winced, grinning. "Might want to take it down a notch there. I think we're past the blasty-blasty phase. Comprende?"

I felt Riptide hum with a new energy, and I stepped forward, facing the stranger head-on. "Who are you?"

Riptide vibrated in my hands, and I felt a warm presence wrap around my brain. I turned to face the sword, and it was glowing and whizzing, screeching out noises like it was trying to talk.

The man turned to face me, amusement still gleaming on his face like a sheet of metal left out in the sun. "Ah. Now that is interesting. I see now why the fetials are so keen on freeing you from this prison."

"The who?"

"The fetials."

"What the hell is a fetial? Isn't that, like, a skincare thing?"

"Idiot. F-e-t-i-a-l. Not f-a-c-i-a-l. I fail to see the true merit of this, but alas, it's not my choice," The man sighed. He threw his hands up. "Besides, what kind of Roman is unaware of the fetials?"

"I'm not Roman," I returned. "I'm Greek."

The man stopped pacing. He slid his glasses down on his nose and I caught a hint of swirling blue eyes. "You?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're Greek? Greek?"

"Well, technically I'm from New York. I think my mom said some of our family—"

"No, no, not that. Back up. If I tell you to think about the big man in the sky, what do you call him?"

"God?"

"Oh, give me strength, sweet mother…not God. The ruler of Olympus."

My cheeks burned. "Oh. Zeus."

"Zeus?"

"I don't know, dude. Uncle Z?"

"Zeus!" The man began laughing so hard he doubled over. From his crouched position, he raised a hand and chortled. Calypso and I exchanged confused looks. "Zeus, Zeus, Zeus, oh boy. Wow. Zeus. Wow. I haven't laughed that hard in some time. Oh, what have I gotten myself into?"

"So—"

"Here's the rub, kid," The man straightened. His eyes glowed, and a portal rippled to life beside him, splattering through reality like a well-worn hole in a shirt. "I'm Janus. Someone wants to bust you out of here."

Calypso stiffened next to me. I just looked at Janus. His name sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn't about to bow to some random guy. "Okay. Who?"

"Can't say," He shrugged.

"Why?"

"Can't say."

"What's the catch?"

"Can't say—actually, wait, that I can answer. Huh, and I was beginning to lose hope. There might be a Roman in there, after all," Janus snapped his fingers, and the portal disappeared. "So, my benefactor wants you to be freed from here and work for them. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Yeah. Like, in a weird roundabout way."

"Dude, you're like the worst person they could've chosen for this."

"You're telling me. But, coin is coin," Janus sighed. "The legion over in New Rome requires assistance—or, they will soon, anyway. They were willing to pay me a premium to bring you to New Rome and free you from here, provided you were willing to join the legion and fight."

My eyebrows scrunched together. "Wait, back up. New Rome? Is that an amusement park?"

"Basically. Well, no. Not even close. It's like a city. They have warriors and worship gods. They do chariot races, too, sometimes."

"Like Half-Blood Hill?"

"If Half-Blood Hill grew up and had a fully functioning economy and government, yeah," Janus laughed indulgently. He paused at my blank look, "Wait. Do you not know about the Romans?"

"What do you mean?"

"She definitely didn't mention the fact that I'd need to be a history teacher, too," Janus groaned. He snapped his fingers, "I know! I'll put it in terms your pea brain can understand."

"Hey!"

"So, you know how the Yankees and Red Sox have that crazy rivalry?" Janus asked. He flicked his wrist, and portals began appearing all over the island, showcasing moments in history like channels on a TV. "The bad blood, the screaming. Wear a Yankees hat in Boston and see what happens. Go to the Yankees stadium in red and you'll leave covered in red. Right?"

"Yeah," I begrudgingly answered. I looked at the portal closest to me, where a Yankees fan was getting chased around a cobblestone street by a horde of fans.

"Cool. So, basically, that little dingy camp you're used to? That's like the Yankees," Janus pointed at one of the screens. Someone in a white shirt went crashing into a car, with a drink tray spilling all over him. A man clad in red flipped him off and ran away. "And there's this other camp, Camp Jupiter, which is like the Red Sox. You guys hate each other."

"We do?"

"Yep. You've been fighting for years. You just don't know it; the last time you guys went at it, things went so bad, the gods bent and wove the Mist—you know what that is?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. So, yeah, they bent that shit as tightly as they could and basically went all Men-in-Black on your asses to make sure y'all never remembered each other. They even divided the country so you'd never meet on quests so that that bloodshed could be avoided and all that."

"And you now want me to join the Red Sox?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry," I said. "Maybe I'm misunderstanding this. You want me to join the people that hate me and want me dead?"

"Well…yes. Basically."

"You see the problem—"

"—Yes. I see it. But it's either go there or stay here forever. On this…this hellhole!" Janus said. One of the invisible servants bought him a brightly colored drink, and he smacked it off the tray. "Keep that shit away from me."

"Okay. Well, what if I want to go home?"

"Home," Janus repeated. "Like...to New York?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry, kid, no can do," Janus shrugged. "It's part of the contract. I can only send you to New Rome. Well, not send, per se. I'd come with you and make sure they take you. The Senate is wild over there. You can't just waltz in and ask that they take you. You need some recommendations. They're real sticklers for that stuff."

I mulled over his words. My brain felt like it was overheating. Glimmers of an idea sparked in my head. Before I could even open my mouth, Janus shook his head. "No. Just no. That's not really going to work out the way you think it is."

"What?"

"The look in your eyes, kid," Janus said, waving his arms. "No way. You're not going to pull an old switcheroo on me. The only way you get off this rock is if you come with me and go to the legion."

"Well, what if I come with you, help out the legion and your benefactor is all happy," I pointed out. "What then? Can I just get on a bus and go back?"

"I mean, maybe," Janus muttered. Another invisible servant began cleaning up the drink. "But I wouldn't, if I were you. Just how do you think you ended up here?"

"Freak accident?"

"Cute."

The tiny portals rolled together and smashed into one. The screen rippled, and it phased to Olympus, where Zeus was sitting on his throne, examining his bolt. Janus looked at it and frowned. "Let's just say if I was you, I'd avoid New York for a while."

"You're telling me Zeus sent me here?" I laughed. "Look, the guy doesn't like me. I know. I get it. But to, what, trap me on this island? That's crazy."

I remembered meeting Zeus for the first time when I returned his lightning bolt, kneeling in front of his throne. It was like sitting in front of a live generator; I spent half the time waiting for him to explode and turn me into a streak on the ground.

"Is it?" Janus returned. "Is it really?"

"Yeah, I mean, my uncle is a lot of things. Paranoid—"

"—understatement of the century—"

"—mean—"

"—tell that to Prometheus—"

"—and kind of a dick in general—"

"—nothing to comment there—"

"—but he wouldn't just, I don't know, plop me here," I ran a hand through my hair and paced on the beach. "He wouldn't."

Janus stared at me, which made me feel worse. He was giving me the same look I gave homeless people on the subway—the kind that balanced awkward pity with a desperate hope they wouldn't ask for anything.

I hated it. Not because it was cruel, but because it was true.

"I'm going to hold your hand when I say this, kid," Janus said, and for the first time since he got to the beach, I felt some sort of empathy from the eccentric god. "Actually, no I'm not. You look kind of dirty, and this suit is custom. From Prada, mind you. It's probably worth more than this island—but that's neither here nor there. Look at the facts, man, Zeus would easily justify sending you here. You're lucky that's all he did, really. I mean, the guy ate his pregnant wife once. Blinking a snot-nosed little demigod like you out of existence wouldn't be that far out of the realm of possibilities with that guy."

"But why? I thought they needed me to stop K—"

"Hold your horses, partner," Janus cut me off. "That's a can of worms we don't want to open right now."

"Okay, well, if I go to this New Rome place, what's stopping Zeus from just finishing the job once I'm there?"

"That's the fun part," Janus smiled. "All the gods you know would stop knowing you. Well, they'd know of you. But, for all intents and purposes, the Roman gods are completely separate from their Greek counterparts. Take it from me. They're almost like different people. It would be like a fresh slate entirely. So, what do you say?"

AN: Okay so someone challenged me to get another one out before December...ask and you shall receive. Spite is a great motivator! Real talk, I'm writing this as I continue reworking TFOAC, so my PJO fire is burning pretty bright right now. I also kind of want to get to New Rome so the story can start in earnest, so I'm trying to run there ASAP. So, maybe expect weekly updates for the foreseeable future. 

I've updated both the picture and description for this story. It gives away a bit more, so hopefully that'll help you guys piece together a bit of what's going on here now.

Last but not least, if you have any questions or would like to be further in the loop with updates and my current priorities in terms of stories, please join the Discord server. They're made aware of updates before the site is. Just take the spaces out of this: Linktr . ee /maroooon

See you soon! And please review your comments/thoughts/theories. It helps me gauge how people perceived the chapter and the things they'd like to see going forward.

- Maroon

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

See, the thing they don't tell you about discovering your potential future is how awkward it makes your present.

We'd been walking for five, maybe six minutes, and besides Janus' annoying but oddly comforting humming—he was humming the bridge to Dancing Queen, I think—I didn't hear a peep. Especially not from Calypso, who was doing just about everything to avoid looking at me. Not that I blamed her. I wasn't even fully sure I'd be able to meet her gaze if she turned around and tried to make eye contact with me, anyway.

Honestly, a part of me was concerned that the cosmic field trip had sheared a part of my brain off. I still felt loopy, like I was hopped up on laughing gas at the dentist's office, or something. Trying to wrangle my thoughts together felt like catching fireflies with a jar full of holes—even if I tried my hardest, it just wasn't working.

I'd try to think about something random—not a struggle with my ADHD, usually—but like clockwork, I'd inevitably come back to everything Janus had force-fed me about my future. It was like the world's worst game of Telephone.

I wonder what New Rome's cafeteria will be like—You had a kid with Annabeth. Two, actually. Didn't she always say she wanted five? Maybe you guys were working your way over there.

It's sort of warm out here—You and Calypso got freaky. Real freaky. BDSM stuff, according to Janus. Come to think of it, Calypso does look like the type of girl who's into that stuff. Wait. Am I the type of guy who's into that kind of stuff?

Did Janus change his glasses—The whole world is going to end if you fail. Really, though. This is the last timeline. It's time to go big or go home, right? No pressure!

Instead, I tried to focus on something tangible. In this case, my surroundings.

The maintenance tunnel Janus teleported us to cut through solid rock. It was about the width and height of a school hallway.

At first, it looked like a typical maintenance tunnel, with electric cables, warning signs, and sparking fuse boxes on the walls. Lightbulbs in wire cages buzzed along the ceiling, bunching together and flickering behind swathes of spiderwebs. The grimy smell of oil plastered the floor, and graffiti coated the inside walls.

As we continued deeper, though, the cement floor changed to a tiled mosaic. The lights changed to reed torches, which burned but didn't smoke. It even smelled better, thankfully.

A few hundred yards ahead, I saw a square of daylight. My throat felt like it was closing up. It was almost showtime. "How are we going to play this?"

Janus didn't turn. "Meh. Beats me."

"Huh?" I felt like my brain was one of those fuse boxes from before. I was a few more surprises away from short-circuiting and powering down. "What the heck were you and all your buddies thinking about this whole time, then?"

"Relax, Percy. I'm kidding. Well, not really. Maybe. A little. Possibly."

I rubbed the crown of my forehead. The ground stretched under my feet like silly putty, and I felt my knees buckle. "I think I'm going to pass out."

"Look," I knew Janus was serious because he stopped tapping the spear along the ground like a hiker's stick. "The way I see it, we have a few different options."

"Yeah?"

Janus rubbed his stubble. Ever since his pair of tortoiseshell glasses had melted like a bubbling pot of fondue, he'd replaced them with a sleeker, wiry pair that made him look more professional. Come to think of it, he was wearing a new suit, too. "Ever since the early days, the Romans have placed a strong emphasis on trust in their gods. Even in today's age, with planes, and flying cars and stuff—"

"—we don't have that yet, I don't think—"

"—a big part of the culture in New Rome is believing that their success as a civilization is tied to maintaining good relations with the divine—me—through religious practices and piety," Janus said. He must've seen the look on my face, because he added, "Basically, they think that by faithfully honoring their gods, they'll receive blessings and favor in return. One of those give something, get something kind of situations."

I thought back to Camp Half-Blood, and how we used to skim food off our plates at all meals to appease the gods. I scoffed. Look at all the good that did me. I sacrificed all the tasty stuff on my plate just to go from having a whole cabin to myself to slumming it in a smelly maintenance tunnel. "Does it really ever happen that way?"

"Kind of. My point is that, well, they'll likely believe anything I say."

"Why do I sense a but coming somewhere in there?"

Janus adjusted his collar. "But they're not stupid. They're not going to take anything I say at face value, even if they think that it's the right thing to do. That part falls on you. I can tell them just about anything and it'll pass their initial test, but it's up to you to hammer it home."

I nodded, "So, the grander the lie, the harder it is to pull off."

"Bingo. I'm thinking of doing one of two things. There's a safe option and a risky option."

I glanced at Calypo's back, where her amber hair curled like vines in a jungle, tumbling down her shoulders. Acid bubbled around her tone, "Haven't we had enough risk already?"

"Just hear me out."

She rolled her eyes, "Fine."

Janus clicked his heels, and streaks of brown striped across his Oxfords, slowly morphing them into a pair of open-toe sandals. He threw me a glance over his shoulder. "The risky option is that I say you were a demigod just, I don't know, out and about until I found you. Or, rather, until you found me. Elphaba over here is your girlfriend, and the two of you have been scrapping it out in the real world, fighting monsters as far as the eye can see. You never stayed in one place long—that explains why the legion never found you—and your scent was so powerful monsters kept hoarding you, so you never had time to consider what was happening and why it was happening to you of all people. We'll steal my original story—the scroll thing—and say that's how we met. Obviously, your initiative impressed me, and I wanted to bring you to New Rome with my highest recommendation as a thank you."

I stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Even Calypso turned around. She beat me to the punch, "That's the risky option?"

"It is, mostly because of your age," Janus gestured toward me. "Romans do things a bit differently. If this was Half-Blood Hill, I'm sure that excuse would've been fine, but New Rome is calculated. You have to remember, they have a whole government. They have incredibly detailed records. Finding a fourteen-year-old in the wild is one thing, but finding a fourteen-year-old with absolutely no ties to New Rome? That's going to raise some eyebrows. And right now, we need the opposite of raised eyebrows."

"Shaved off eyebrows," I suggested.

"Yes!" Janus snapped his fingers. "Shaved off eyebrows! Perfect! I knew I liked you, Jackson."

"Wonderful," Calypso interrupted, her tone biting. A scowl carved its way onto her face. "Tell us, then, great Janus, what is your shaved-off-eyebrow plan?"

"Well, I'd probably start by getting you a lesson in manners," Janus sighed. "But I think our best bet is playing the insomniac angle."

I raised my eyebrows. Then, remembering our conversation, I schooled my features, "You want me to not be able to sleep?"

"Oh, shoot. Sorry. Amnesiac. I want you to play the amnesiac angle," Janus corrected. "There's a river coming up ahead—the Little Tiber. It'll wash away any ties of you to the Greek world, so that'll cover us on the smell front, so you'll pass off as far as fauns and whatever else they have in there is concerned. And, on top of that, if we say you have selective amnesia, it'll explain why you don't know any Roman stuff. Then, most of their incredulity will fall on my end, which is fine. I'm a god. I don't have to explain why I do things."

"But why? Are they just going to believe I have amnesia?"

"Oh, hell no. That's what I meant by it's going to fall on you. This is easier, though. The first way depends on both of you having the same story, down to the last detail. You'd have to retell it at least a dozen times, to different people, in different places, even when you're not together. That kind of synchronicity is literally impossible. Even assuming it was, your cover story would need to be so airtight that no one in New Rome could possibly argue against it. That's just not happening in the next five minutes. If you play the part of an amnesiac, though, you don't have to worry about that stuff. Just don't mention anything about your little adventures on the Greek side of the equation and no one will really bat an eye. They'll just assume I'm doing some weird plot, and you're a part of it."

I could sort of see his point. If we did the second thing, all I'd have to do is not massively screw up, and I'd be fine. "Okay."

Janus chewed his bottom lip. "My pro tip? Every good lie has a little bit of truth in it. If you really don't want people to dig, choose something traumatic to talk about. And then, sprinkle a little bit about how you really feel in there. I mean, damn, you've been through a lot, right? Channel that. Even if your words are kind of wishy-washy, the emotion will be real. No one wants to pry when it comes to stuff like that."

Calypso's eyes briefly met mine, and warmth cascaded down my chest. She asked, "What about me?"

"You? Um. Same thing, I guess."

I shook my head as we stepped out of the tunnel.

Spread out at my feet was a bowl-shaped valley several miles wide. The basin floor was rumpled with smaller hills, golden plains, and stretches of forest. A small clear river cut a winding course from a lake in the center and around the perimeter, like a capital G.

The sunlight illuminated Janus' face. He smiled softly, "It really is something."

In the center of the valley, nestled by the lake, was a small city of white marble buildings with red-tiled roofs. Some had domes and columned porticoes, like national monuments. Others looked like palaces, with golden doors and large gardens.

Right next to it, I could see an open plaza with freestanding columns, fountains, and statues. A five-story-tall Roman coliseum gleamed in the sun, next to a long oval arena like a racetrack. Across the lake to the south, another hill was dotted with even more impressive buildings—temples.

They looked way cooler than the shrines we had back at camp. I wonder if the Greek gods ever cared that half of those were piecemealed by the younger campers during their afternoon arts and crafts classes.

Stone bridges crossed the river as it wound through the valley, and in the north, a long line of brickwork arches stretched from the hills into the town.

About two hundred yards away, just across the river, was some sort of military encampment. It was about a quarter mile square, with earthen ramparts on all four sides, the tops lined with sharpened spikes. Outside the walls ran a dry moat, also studded with spikes. Wooden watchtowers rose at each corner, manned by sentries with oversized, mounted crossbows.

Purple banners hung from the towers. A wide gateway opened on the far side of camp, leading toward the city. A narrower gate stood closed on the riverbank side. Inside, the fortress bustled with activity: dozens of kids going to and from barracks, carrying weapons, polishing armor. I heard the clank of hammers at a forge and smelled meat cooking over afire.

We padded our way down to the riverbank. The water was so blue, it looked more like a bowl of blue M&Ms than it did a river. The current was fast, but it didn't look deep. Only a stone's throw across stood the gates of the fort.

"The Little Tiber," Janus said. He squatted down in front of the river and scooped a bit of water in his hands. It glowed and he smiled, drying his hands on his pants. "It flows with the power of the original Tiber, the river of the empire. This is it, kid. It's going to purge the Greek out of you. Any blessing you've ever received, any curse—it'll all be washed away the second you cross into Roman territory."

Curses, too? I remembered Ares' warning from before. I could do without that sort of thing looming over my head. Then, I remembered something else. "What about empathy links?"

"Ah, got a satyr friend, do you?"

"Something like that."

"Well, that's already been taken care of," Janus said. "When you got on that island, it severed your connection, since it exists outside of space and time. Good thing, too. Empathy links are tricky business. If one person dies, the other will most likely die as well or sink into a vegetative state, so if you still had that thing before our time travel, your friend would've been convulsing in a hospital bed like a fish out of water. No pun intended, of course. Come now. They're noticing us."

Janus forged into the river, and I followed behind him with Calypso at my side. It was icy cold, much swifter than I imagined, but that didn't bother me. New strength surged through my limbs. My senses tingled like I'd been injected with caffeine.

As we reached the other side, the camp's gates opened. Dozens of kids in armor poured out. I stood on the riverbank, behind Janus. My clothes and skin steamed as if the Tiber's waters had given me an acid bath.

Janus began to glow and change form. He grew until he was a shining, seven-foot-tall outline, with lines of light deepening across his torso and waist like gashes. When the light died down, he was wearing a flowing purple robe and a golden laurel wreath. The spear in his hands had transformed into a curved staff with blue light pulsating on the top. I never noticed how different his face looked without his lopsided smile—it was all stern and stately now—but in truth, the look suited him.

Not that I'd ever tell him that. His ego was big enough without it.

I looked at Calypso.

She looked lost. Not lost, like she took a wrong turn in a Target and lost her mom, but lost like the stars had stopped talking to her and the sun had forgotten how to rise. It wasn't just that she looked sad, either, it was something deeper than that. She turned her face toward me, and her eyes were sharp, but there was a glint of something—something raw and broken.

I thought this was what she wanted.

I turned back to the camp's gates. There was a group of twelve, maybe thirteen people, and they were all staring at us from knelt positions on the ground.

Honestly, I'd forgotten Janus was a god. They hadn't.

"Friends, Romans, countrymen," Janus said, spreading his arms. "I present to you the son of Neptune. For months he has been slumbering, but now he is awake. His fate is in your hands, and consequently, the sanctity and prosperity of New Rome's future are in his. There are hard days to come, and if you are to stand any hope in the ensuing battles, you must learn to trust each other. Do not fail me!"

Then, he shimmered and exploded with golden dust everywhere.

I was directly in the splash zone, so I got a mouthful of dust. I began hacking it up, motes of dusty billowing everywhere around me.

"Well, that was…interesting," A voice called from the crowd.

I honed in on her. She was obviously a leader, wearing a regal purple cloak over her armor, like a miniature version of the one Janus had worn. She stood on the banks of the river like a storm caught in human form. Silver hair—unnaturally bright against the earthen walls—swept in a sharp, jagged bob, the cut so precise it almost looked like a blade had been used. It ran across her eyeline like a deliberate wound, leaving only a sliver of her sharp gaze visible.

She was tall-ish—just enough to make me feel like I was looking up at her, even if only slightly. She looked scary. Straight-backed, poised. Rigid.

This woman was dangerous.

"A son of Neptune, who comes to us with the blessing of Janus. Hm. It isn't every day that a god himself deigns to bring us a recruit," Her lips were thin like she had learned not to waste words. And when she spoke, it was as though each syllable had been honed and sharpened by a knife, "Before we accept anyone into camp, we must interrogate them and read the auguries. Janus has endorsed you, but he also said your fate is in our hands. That's a very serious denomination."

I repressed a groan. Damn it, Janus! I noticed the campers shift at her words. 

"What's your name?" The woman's eyes sparkled with a restless gleam, like the flare of a lighthouse beacon cutting through a storm. Her chest was decorated with medals, and a scabbard hung at her hips.

"Percy," I returned, offering her a smile. "Percy Jackson."

"Sonora," Her lip curled. Ice coated her tone, "You may call me Sable. Please, come with me. Your companion can wait here for the time being. I'd like to speak to you both separately."

Sable turned to the crowd. They all stood at attention. "Could someone fetch Tibs? I'll be bringing our newest friend to the principia to have a conversation."

I didn't get that much time to really soak in my surroundings, because Sable nearly frog-marched me to it at the speed of light. I felt like someone was watching my life as a movie—they must've gotten up to get some popcorn and soda, and accidentally sat on the fast-forward button as they sat back down.

I got the high notes, though.

And, as much as I hated to admit it, Janus was right: New Rome was like Half-Blood Hill on steroids.

For one, New Rome had Half-Blood Hill beat in terms of design. It wasn't even close, really.

The camp was nice, sure, but it was nice in a kiddie, summer camp way. Which made sense, for what it was. The whole place was a ragtag operation ping-ponging between Chiron and Mr. D. And, on top of that, I knew we weren't really raking in funds, either. I mean, the cabins were okay and all, but most of them had termites, and I was pretty sure I'd heard some dangerous stories about black mold in the girls' showers. Granted, Travis Stoll told me that, so it could've also been a ploy to get me to go in there, but I guess we'll never know.

New Rome, on the other hand, looked a bit more like a shot-for-shot recreation of what I'd imagine Rome looked like back in the day. The place looked pretty clean and orderly. The buildings were freshly whitewashed, laid out in neat grids like the camp had been designed by a fussy math teacher. I didn't see any cabins, but there were big buildings, each with a different collection of banners out front displaying Roman numerals and various animals—eagle, bear, wolf, horse, and something that looked like a hamster.

If I had to guess, the principia was basically New Rome's version of City Hall. It was in the middle of town, too; a two-story wedge of white marble with a columned portico like an old-fashioned bank. Over the doorway hung a big purple banner with the gold letters SPQR embroidered inside a laurel wreath.

I finally got a chance to catch my breath as we stepped inside. The floor was polished marble. The walls were draped in velvet, so I felt like I was inside the world's most expensive camping tent. Along the back wall stood a display of banners and wooden poles studded with bronze medals—military symbols, if I had to guess.

In the center was one empty display stand, as if the main banner had been taken down for cleaning or something. In the back corner, a stairwell led down. It was blocked by a row of iron bars like a prison door.

In the center of the room, a long wooden table was cluttered with scrolls, notebooks, tablet computers, daggers, and a large bowl filled with jelly beans, which seemed kind of out of place.

Sable walked behind the table and sat in one of two high-backed chairs. She settled into it and gestured for me to sit across from her. "So, Percy…"

"Yes?"

"Tell me, how exactly did you find yourself in the company of a god?"

"Honestly, it was kind of a surprise to me, too."

"Was it?"

"Yeah, I…was doing something," I started. Sable's green eyes peered out from under her bangs, unamused, and I remembered Janus' tip. Traumatic. I needed something real. I thought back to Mount St. Helens, "There was a fire. A really big fire."

"Go on…"

Fear squeezed a vice grip around my throat, and I instantly knew I messed up. My heart hammered wildly, straining against my ribs like a wild stallion yearning to run free.

Fire.

I could feel it burning my skin.

The fire.

It was like it had claws, tearing at the inside of my chest, making me wish I could just reach up and pull my heart out to stop the searing heat. My breath caught, and for a second, the room—the velvet, the marble, the jelly beans—vanished. I was back there, in the middle of it all. Smoke curled in my lungs, thick and choking. The air was molten. It felt like the world was being swallowed, burned to ash, and all I could do was stand there and watch.

I rubbed my arms like that would shake the feeling loose, but I could still feel it—the heat of it. My fingers trembled.

"Percy," Sable's voice was sharp, cutting through the haze, but it didn't make it any easier to breathe. "What happened?"

This was working too well.

For the second time in less than ten minutes, I cursed Janus.

"There was a fire," I managed, "A big one. I—I could feel it on my skin. Like every inch of me was burning. It wasn't just the heat. It was like…like the fire was alive, pulling at me, trying to swallow me whole."

You're alright, the voice that had come out of the scythe said in my mind. I'm here now.

Sable's eyes were fixed on me, not unkindly, but like she was studying me, measuring each word I said. I couldn't tell if she understood or if she was just waiting for me to keep talking.

"I didn't—" I broke off, swallowing hard. "I didn't know what was happening. One minute, I was on the side of a mountain, the next—everything was burning."

The voice purred in my head again: The fire isn't going to hurt you ever again.

A calmness settled over me like a thick, warm blanket, smooth and heavy, as if it were being forced on me, wrapping around my chest, pressing me down. My limbs went slack, and for a split second, it was like I could breathe without effort, like the fire inside me had been smothered under layers of silk.

But then a strange, crackling sensation slithered up my spine, a warning that the calm wasn't mine, that something else was holding me still—like invisible strings pulling at the edges of my mind. It felt too controlled, too artificial, like a tranquilizer shot to the heart, numbing me just enough to calm down.

"Percy," Sable prompted, her voice smooth, "It's alright. I just wanted to see what you remember."

"I'm okay," I definitely wasn't okay. I swallowed again, and said, "The next thing I knew, Janus was pulling me to New Rome, stringing me along and saying something about how this was the only place Fate could get back on track."

"Very peculiar," Sable intoned, resting her chin on her hand. Her curtain of silver hair rippled as she said, "Do you remember anything about yourself? What you may have been doing before…he found you?"

"I'm from New York. I think," I said. "I'm fourteen. That's it, I think."

"And, all this?" Sable wondered, gesturing around us. My eyes caught a glittering mosaic on the top of the principia—a rhinestone collection of a wolf and two boys. "What do you remember about your heritage? Your father?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing," Sable repeated, leaning back in her chair. "Hm."

"I'm sorry."

"No, please, don't be," Sable sighed. She drummed her fingers against the desk and glanced off into the distance, fixating on a point somewhere over my left shoulder. "Something isn't right about this whole thing. I can feel it in my bones. Gods can be tricky. Janus may have something up his sleeve we don't know about…but as of right now, we have nothing to go off of. Just theories. All we can do is heed his warning and hope you eventually get some of your memories back."

My stomach grumbled, loud enough to echo off the walls. I tried to pretend it wasn't happening, but it was like my stomach was staging a rebellion inside me, demanding food as tribute.

"Hungry?" Sable smiled softly.

"Yes. Very. I could probably eat this desk right now."

"Please don't. I'd hate to proposition the Senate for a new one. I think I've heard and seen enough to permit you into the legion for now, at least until we figure out what Janus has in mind for you," Sable reached across the table and grabbed one of the tablets. She tapped the screen a few times and said, "Hello? Yeah, Jason? Can you come down to the principia for me? I need your help."

[AN] This one's for you, notFalkon! Thanks for being a homie, and I hope you have safe travels.

As always, review and let me know what you think!

Anyway! Join the Discord if you want to bully me into updating, just take the spaces out of this: linktr. ee / maroooon

- Maroon

Chapter Text

A few minutes later, a gust of wind creaked the doors open, and Jason showed up in the principia.

Honestly, I wasn't quite sure what to think of him when he first stepped into the room.

For starters, he just looked weird.

Not exactly in a bad way, mind you. Maybe not in a good way, either, though.

I guess the thing that was really throwing me off was that he looked…too perfect? Too symmetrical? Almost like he wasn't even real.

He had these oddly regal features that reminded me of a Roman statue—a strong jaw, prominent brow, and sharp cheekbones—seriously, he could've fit right in with some of the other statues in the principia if he painted his face white, buzzed his hair off, and put on a purple bedsheet.

I'd even go as far as to say that if you asked a hundred random people to describe a Roman soldier and mashed their answers together, you'd probably get someone who looked at least a little bit like Jason.

Not that he looked particularly heroic at the moment. He was far, really far from something even resembling that. If anything, he looked like he was fresh off a game of pickup basketball.

Dirt was smudged on the crown of his forehead in between strands of golden hair, and his cheeks were flushed. A white headband was pressing a mop of hair down, and let me tell you, that thing was drenched. Thankfully, he still smelled okay, or I would've had to go off the rails with Janus' plan and get the hell out of here.

A golden coin danced on his knuckles. He kept slinking it through his fingers, and once in a while, the glare from the coin would flash right past me. "Sable. What's up?"

"Jason," Sable regarded the boy. I wasn't much of a people analyzer—that was Annabeth's thing—but for some odd reason, even I picked up on a sense of closeness between the two of them. They knew each other. And, if the way they were looking at each other was any indication, they knew each other well. "My apologies for the call out of nowhere, I know today's usually your day off. I hope I'm not pulling you away from anything important."

"Just some frisbee with the cohort. Nothing I can't get back to later. You know I'm always down to help out the legion," Jason said. There was a small scar on the corner of his lip that rippled as he spoke, like a slinky being stretched out. His eyes shot past Sable and to me. "Oh! Hey, man. Didn't mean to be rude. I'm Jason."

"Percy," I shook his hand.

Sable watched the two of us interact. The look in her eyes was weirdly frantic—like she'd built up a house of cards on a spinning top, and was waiting to hit a bump and see everything explode in every direction. When nothing happened, she nodded to herself, and her lips parted, "Percy is suffering from amnesia, Jason."

Jason's face pinched, and a funnel of sympathy squeezed around his voice. I hated that look. A glass of water across the table vibrated briefly. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

Sable hummed, "Yes."

Jason looked about as confused as I felt, which, considering what my last two hours had been, was saying something. I wondered if he was regretting leaving his cohort. Whatever that meant.

"Uh…" Jason shifted like he was mentally flipping through a Camp Jupiter rulebook, "How did he even get here? He looks like he's a little old to be a fresh demigod, so I'm guessing he's not from around here?"

"Astute observations, Jason," Sable purred, standing and walking over to us. I caught a glimpse of the pommel of her sword—a silver gemstone nestled in the hands of what looked like a man with a blindfold over his eyes, "To answer your question, he was brought here by Janus."

"Janus?" Jason repeated. His eyes flicked to me, narrowing like he hadn't really paid attention to me the first time around. A crease appeared between his eyebrows. "He hasn't been seen around here in—"

"Yes. Thank you, Jason," Sable cut him off, heat flashing around her voice. Jason stopped talking instantly, and she pursed her lips before turning to me and mustering a smile. "Percy, Jason is going to show you around New Rome and take you to Lord Jupiter's temple so we can begin the process of introducing you into our ranks. We're not sure how or why you're here, but I think it's worth giving you sanctuary while you figure those things out."

Jason's eyes widened. "Sable…"

"Nil aliud est quam bonum commune sequi," Sable muttered, her thumb brushing over the pommel of her sword. She stared up at the ornate, cathedral-like ceiling of the principia as if she was expecting Janus to come back down and tell her she passed some secret test.

Nothing else matters but to serve the common good.

My eye twitched, and Sable's eyes shot to me instantly. I understood them before my brain even had time to sound them out, and a sharp jolt of anxiety shot through my chest. How the hell did I know that?

Sable's gaze lingered on me for a second longer. "Marcus Aurelius lived by those words. Many of us here do as well. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other soon. And Percy? Welcome to New Rome."

Jason led us out of the principia. We walked on a dirt path for a few moments in companionable silence.

Offhandedly, I wondered what Calypso was up to. Sable had originally mentioned someone else was going to talk to Calypso (presumably to question her like they'd questioned me), but I hadn't seen her since I'd walked into the principia, so she was either being spoken to somewhere else, or her story wasn't checking out.

I hoped it was the first option. If it was the second one, well…there wasn't much I could do from here.

My train of thought came to a grinding halt as I watched a bunch of kids in swimsuits and towels head into a building that had steam coming out of a row of chimneys. Laughter and watery sounds echoed from inside, like it was an indoor pool—my kind of place.

"Bathhouse," Jason said, a grin forming on his face. He stretched his arms out, and a light breeze tousled his hair. "We'll get you in there before dinner, hopefully. You haven't lived until you've had a Roman bath, dude."

As we approached the front gate, the barracks got bigger and nicer. I tried to decipher the banners and symbols hanging in front of the buildings, but to my chagrin, the random infusion of Roman I'd gotten had been fleeting.

Jason followed my gaze. His skin looked like it was glowing in the sunlight. "Ah, you're looking at the cohorts. Sorry, I keep forgetting you haven't been here before. Let's see…uh, the cohorts are kind of like where we live. And by we, I mean those who train under the banner of New Rome. If you want to, like, go to college or something, then you'd go live in the city and get your own house. You can also technically do both, to be fair. That's what some people do when they get older. They train for a bit, get some prestige and connections, and then they go to college and settle down. Their choice."

I blinked. "College? You guys have college in here? And a city?"

Jason cracked a grin. "Yeah. The donuts in there are awesome."

That threw me for a loop. Camp Half-Blood had always been a camp. The closest we got to education outside of combat lessons was macaroni-necklace competitions and campfire sing-alongs. There were no choices, either. You didn't get to choose whether that kind of life was for you or not. You trained, you went on quests, and if you were lucky, you made it to eighteen without getting turned into monster chow.

But long-term plans? Retirement? Higher education? That wasn't exactly on the table. If you were a demigod at Camp Half-Blood, the best you could hope for was surviving long enough to figure out what came next.

"So, wait," I said, still trying to wrap my head around what Jason had just said. "You're telling me some guy can go from dodging a hydra attack one week to stressing over midterms the next?"

"Pretty much. And if you think professors are scary, try disappointing one of our professors on a pop quiz."

We shared a laugh. Jason's eyes crinkled as he continued, "Back to your original question, though. I don't want to be a bad tour guide. Uh, let's see…we have five cohorts of about forty kids each. Each cohort is divided into barracks of ten—like roommates, kind of."

I was quiet for a few moments. There was no way Camp Half-Blood could've ever supported that many demigods at once. And, Jason had mentioned there was a whole city of graduates right next door. "You're telling me there are two hundred kids at camp? Not even counting the people who finish off their service?"

"Roughly."

"And all of them are children of the gods," I let out a low whistle. "The gods have been busy."

Jason laughed. "Nah, dude. Not all of them are children of major gods. There are hundreds of minor Roman gods. Plus, a lot of the campers are legacies—second or third-generation. Maybe their parents were demigods. Or their grandparents."

"These Legos—"

"Legacies," Jason corrected patiently.

"They have powers like a demigod?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes not," Jason's good humor faded, and I wondered if I'd accidentally hit a sore spot. He kept pushing on before I could say anything, "But all of them can be trained. All the best Roman generals and emperors—they all claimed to be descended from gods. Most of the time, they were telling the truth. Stretching it a bit? Sure. But, it was the truth, nonetheless."

"So these cohorts, what, are they based on who you're descended from?"

"Nah," Jason scuffed his sandal against the ground. "Sable probably wouldn't want me to tell you this, but it's kind of random. The officers choose, so sometimes it can be based on combat tests. Other times, it can be just because they liked someone, or if someone's family has a long history of training under a specific cohort. Politics always plays a role in that kind of stuff. Uh, anyway, I'm one of the centurions for our cohort—the fifth—so I could probably just get you a spot in it."

Surprise tugged at my stomach. "You'd do that?"

"I mean, yeah," Jason shrugged. "You seem nice enough, and one of our probatios just retired, so we have the space. Plus, I'm guessing that's why Sable called me to give you the tour."

The puzzle pieces from before arranged themselves in my head some more. I snuck a glance at Jason. "You guys must be close, then."

The tips of Jason's ears turned red. "Um, kind of."

I tilted my head. "Kind of?"

Jason rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the ground. "We, uh…trained together. Fought in a few battles side by side. She's helped me out a lot. I'm up next for a, uh, leadership position, we'll call it. She's been mentoring me for it."

That was a very careful answer.

"Oh," I said, dragging out the sound, because I could practically feel the awkwardness radiating off him. "So, like, close close?"

Jason scowled at the ground. "Not—not like that."

"Got it," I said, "Totally platonic."

Jason let out a slow breath, like he was debating whether he should continue giving me the tour or smack me as hard as he could. Luckily, he seemed like the kind of guy to take it easy on the amnesiac. Finally, he muttered, "Are we good to keep going on the tour, or do you need to recover more of your memories before you're qualified to psychoanalyze my personal life?"

"Why not both?" I grinned.

Jason gave me a look. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and a sharp, tangy smell crackled in the air around us.

Okay. Not both. Definitely not both.

I raised my hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Lead the way."

Jason exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He muttered, "Thank the gods."

We walked a bit more and stopped outside the main gates. The fort was situated on the highest point in the valley, so I could see pretty much everything. The road led down to the river and divided. One path led south across a bridge, up to the hill with all the temples. The other road led north into the city, a miniature version of what I assumed was Ancient Rome. Unlike the military camp, the city looked chaotic and colorful, with buildings crowded together at haphazard angles.

Even from this far away, I could see people gathered in the plaza, shoppers milling around an open-air market, parents with kids playing in the parks. "You've got families here?"

"In the city, absolutely," Jason said. "When you're accepted into the legion, you do ten years of service. After that, you can muster out whenever you want. Most demigods go into the mortal world. But for some—well, it's pretty dangerous out there. This valley is a sanctuary. You can go to college in the city, get married, have kids, and retire when you get old. It's the only safe place on earth for people like us. So yeah, a lot of veterans make their homes there, under the protection of the legion."

"So what happens if this valley is attacked?"

Jason pursed his lips. "We have defenses. And some of our older demigods who serve on the war council help mobilize the response. Just because they stop their service doesn't mean they'll stop fighting for their homes."

"Plus, it would be kind of messed up if a bunch of adults made little kids fight on their behalf. Right?"

Jason smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You'd be surprised, Percy. You'd really be surprised."

We walked in uneasy silence the rest of the way. A crooked stone path led past a crazy assortment of tiny altars and massive domed vaults. Statues of gods seemed to follow me with their eyes, like they knew I didn't belong here.

We eventually got to the base of what looked like a hundred steps. I thought back to the bath house, and I took a deep breath. I was almost done.

Maybe I'd even see Calypso soon.

"There it is," Jason pointed toward the summit. Clouds swirled over the largest temple, a round pavilion with a ring of white columns supporting a domed roof. They looked like gigantic marshmallows.

I flinched as a flock of eagles cried, flying overhead and toward the temple. Leave it to Zeus to be dramatic no matter which version of him was in question. "I'm guessing that's the temple Sable was telling us about? That's where we're heading?"

"Yeah," Jason sounded edgy. A small scowl formed on his face as he said, "This guy named Octavian reads auguries there—the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus."

"Oh, so what's that for?" I gestured to a small blue building right beside us. It looked like it was the size of a telephone booth. "Do we need tickets, or something?"

"Um, not quite," Jason marched us closer. A cobweb-covered trident was nailed above a rickety door that creaked open as we got within a yard or so.

There's no way.

I peeked inside. On a small altar sat a bowl with three dried-up, moldy apples. My heart sank. "What, um…what is this?"

"This is hard to explain," Jason said. He sighed, "It's our temple to Lord Neptune."

"This is a temple?" I repeated. "To a god? How come Jupiter gets a mansion, and Neptune gets a toolshed that looks like it hasn't been used by anyone other than raccoons?"

Jason looked like he was debating what to say. To his credit, even he looked a bit appalled at the moldy apples. "I know this looks bad. I'm not excusing any of this, and for what it's worth, I'll talk to Sable about doing some better upkeep. This isn't the level of respect we maintain at New Rome. For any god."

I tried to ignore the molten spike of anger stabbing into my ribs. "Could've fooled me."

"Percy," Jason said seriously. "You have my word. It's just…Romans were always scared of the sea. They only used ships if they had to. Even in modern times, having a child of Neptune around has always been a bad omen. The last time one joined the legion…well, it was 1906, when Camp Jupiter was located across the bay in San Francisco. There was this huge earthquake—"

"You're telling me a child of Neptune caused that?"

"So they say," Jason looked skeptical. "I'm not really sure how true it is, but…anyway…Romans fear Neptune, but they don't love him much."

I stared at the cobwebs on the trident. Great. Even if I joined the camp, I would never be loved. My best hope was to be scary to my new campmates. Maybe if I did really well, they'd give me some moldy apples as a reward. Fantastic.

Still…standing at Neptune's altar, I felt something stir inside me, like waves rippling through my veins. It wasn't loud or dramatic—no sudden storms or glowing godly visions. Just a quiet pull, like the tide underneath my toes at Montauk—like the ocean was reminding me it was still there.

I reached out, running my fingers along the stone trident emblazed on the side of the altar. The marble was cold under my hand, but beneath that chill, something lived. Power, buried deep.

Then the temperature dropped.

Not like a cool breeze. Not like stepping into the ocean on a hot day. This was a deep cold, seeping into my skin like I'd plunged into black water far below the surface. The altar shuddered. The ground rumbled under my feet. Jason inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching around that golden coin from earlier. "Percy—"

Then the air split.

A figure stepped forward—no, not forward. More like he unfolded from the space itself, rising like a tide that had always been there, just waiting for me to notice.

He was thin, almost skeletal, his skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones. His beard hung in tangled strands, brittle like dried seaweed. The purple tunic he was wearing clung to him like it was soaked in black water, the fabric shifting and dripping. His hands were cracked and rough, barnacle-covered, as if they had been gripping the edges of a sinking ship for centuries.

Deep, sunken pits, storm-dark and endless, locked onto me with a hunger that made my stomach twist.

Jason sucked in a breath like the air had been punched from his lungs. Then, he dropped to one knee, bowing his head. He didn't speak. He didn't move. He just knelt there, like looking too long at the figure too long would make him explode.

I wasn't sure he was wrong.

My son.

I flinched. The voice wasn't spoken. It was inside my head—inside me—like the crash of waves in my blood. Like what I'd felt back at Mount St. Helens.

You stand before my altar, Neptune's voice murmured, rough as shifting sand. Do you see how they treat me?

"Dad?" I swallowed hard. "You're here?"

I am always here. But they do not see me. They will not see you, either, boy.

The moldy apples made a wailing noise as the juice drained out of them and leaked onto the base of the altar, boiling and steaming. The stone cracked, splintering with a sound that reminded me of ice shattering in a frozen pond.

Jason didn't move.

They kneel to Jupiter. They build their temples, carve his name into their banners. My name is whispered only when their ships sink. When the tides turn against them. I am an afterthought.

I didn't know what to say. My pulse was hammering. The air felt heavy, crushing, like I was standing under a thousand feet of water and trying to swim my way out.

But you, my son, you will remind them.

A wave surged through me, pounding against my ribs. My fingers twitched. "Remind them of what?"

Neptune leaned in, his presence pressing against my mind like an undertow. I'd never felt this kind of pressure from my dad before. At least, not from Poseidon.

That Rome belongs to me. That before their legions, before their eagles, before they built their roads and their laws—they sailed on my waters. They begged me for safe passage. They feared me.

The ground cracked beneath me. Jason tensed, finally glancing up, his face pale. "Percy?"

I barely heard him. I couldn't look away from Neptune.

You will be my weapon, Perseus Jackson. You will make them remember.

The waves in my veins surged, drowning out everything else. My vision swam. Jason's voice sounded distant, like he was calling me from the surface while I was sinking. "Percy. Can you hear me?"

Jason's voice broke through, sharper this time. "Percy?"

Neptune's presence swelled, pressing against my skull like a rising tide. His sunken eyes locked onto mine, and I blacked out.

[AN]

You can go ahead and imagine a very since and genuine apology here—I would write one and mean every word of it, but you know that life happens, I know that life happens, and above all else, I am a random person on the internet, so the words and intent likely won't matter. I'll keep it very real with you all and just say I missed you, and for now, that will be that.

Very happy to be back on this project and pushing it forward a bit. If you want some key things to ponder, Percy's random knowledge of Latin would certainly be at the top of my list. I'd also prepare for a bit of an overhaul regarding the Roman gods and New Rome, as well. I like Rick—his earlier work, anyway—but this was where the cracks started to appear for me, so I will do my best to augment those with a few of my fun little ideas. Please let me know how you find them.

Anyway! Join the Discord if you want to bully me to update, just take the spaces out of this: linktr. ee / maroooon

- Maroon