PROLOGUE

IN THE COVER OF DARKNESS, the Shadow waited.

The night air was cool and crisp, but the Shadow was growing impatient.

He had been given specific instructions to wait here, at this place, on this night. This night, out of all nights. This night; the night of Saturn. The night of the Titan King.

A streetlight flickered, its eerie glow bathing the Shadow’s face in dull yellow light. The Shadow turned his head away from the streetlamp, pulling his black fedora down lower over his face.

He started to walk down the sidewalk, passing by the street café where he was supposed to meet the Receiver. He passed a couple walking down the pavement. They turned and walked into the café, laughing as they entered the warm, sweet-smelling shop.

Could one of them - ? No. The Shadow had a feeling that the Receiver would reveal himself soon.

The Shadow turned and slipped into a dark alleyway, where only a sliver of light penetrated the darkness of the lane. A dumpster was pushed up against one wall, and three skimpy-looking cats that had been resting on the waste bin scampered away.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

The Shadow shivered. His hands gripped the scroll that lay in the pocket of his black trench coat. His fingers ran over the rough parchment, and he closed his eyes. He focused on the coarse surface of the scroll, memorizing its uneven ridges and creases. Tonight, that was all that mattered.

“You made it.” a raspy, gravelly voice behind him hissed.

The Shadow jumped at the voice. He quickly pulled his hand out of his pocket, his fingers leaving scroll’s grainy surface. He turned around, and came face-to-face with the most hideous creature he had ever seen.

The Shadow’s eyes bugged. The monster in front of him was half woman, half snake. Her upper half had the appearance of a model, except her skin was scaly and green, and her eyes were pure gold. Her mouth was lined with rows of sharp, jagged teeth, and atop her head she wore a tall crown of jewels, with small wings that looked like they were taken from a miniature dragon protruded from each side of her headpiece.

She wore a silver chest plate and shoulder pads, and a dark green sash draped across her body. Her long, silky black hair flowed behind her body.

She smiled warmly at the Shadow, but her eyes glowed murderously, as if to say: This is growing bothersome. Let me kill you now, and maybe I’ll make it less painful!

From the waist down, two long, scaly serpent trunks extended behind her, each about seven feet long. At the tip of each of her tails was a short row of scaly plates. Her tails whipped around, and her eyes smoldered with hatred.

“I sssuppossse you’re looking for me?” the serpentine woman asked.

“You – you’re the R-r-receiver?” the Shadow stuttered, unable to take his eyes off of the revolting monster.

The monster smiled. “Yesss… and you?”

“I- I – you’re – what … are you?” the Shadow stammered.

“I am a Sssscythian Dracanae,” the snake model hissed, “but you may call me Tanisssss.”

The Shadow stifled a laugh. “Your name is tennis? Really?”

Snake model – Tanis – hissed, baring her pointed teeth.

“You dare mock me?! I will tear you to shreds!” Tanis leapt at the Shadow, her wicked fangs aimed right at his neck.

The Shadow leapt out of the way, rolling to a stop against a wall. He drew his sword, pulling out its long, golden blade and holding it with both hands.

Tanis laughed, which sounded like a badger being tortured. The Shadow cringed at the hideous sound.

Tanis half slithered, half walked over to the Shadow, like she was walking on living skis.

“Ssssso…” she started, an evil grin on her scaly face, “my massster, Criusss, told me you have sssomething for me.” Her smile grew wider.

The Shadow reached into his pocket, feeling the abrasive scroll.

Tanis hissed with pleasure. “It isss in your pocket, yesss?”

The Shadow gripped the scroll. Slowly, he brought it out of his

trench coat pocket.

“Drop the sssword.” the dracanae demanded, her gaze lingering on the scroll.

Obediently, the Shadow let go of his weapon. It hit the concrete with a clang. As quick as a whip, Tanis lashed out and snatched up the fallen sword. She held it at her side, her eyes never leaving the scroll in the Shadow’s hand.

“The ssscroll.”

The Shadow hesitated, pulling his outstretched hand closer to him.

Tanis hissed. “Now.”

The fury in her voice was so menacing, the Shadow almost dropped the scroll.

Carefully, cautiously, he approached the dracanae, his arm extended.

The scroll began to heat, its temperature rising as it neared the snake

woman.

“Yesss,” Tanis said, her free clawed hand curling into a fist,

“Clossser…”

The scroll began to smoke. Oddly, the Shadow felt nothing, as if his hand was completely resistant to the high temperature. Tanis made a guttural sound in her throat, and her eyes widened.

“Give it to me,” the Scythian dracanae commanded, “Time isss running out! Our lord growsss impatient. He doesss not like to wait!”

The Shadow quickly dropped the scroll into the reptilian hand, smoke curling off the roll of parchment.

Tanis smiled, her pointed teeth gleaming awfully.

“Our lord will be very pleasssed…” the snake lady hissed, “He thanksss you for your hard work. But now…”

The Shadow glowered, not liking where this was going. He wished now that he had held on to his sword. Snake Model did not seem too friendly, and her murderous eyes and cruel smile seemed to say, Okay, I’m going to kill you now! Please, try not to squirm.

“…now, you are of no ussse to usss.” Tanis continued, examining her deadly claws, “Now, I get to have a little fun.”

The dracanae bared her teeth. She dropped the Shadow’s sword. It landed next to her, its double-edged blade resting on the rough concrete.

The Shadow knew that if he even took a step toward his weapon, Tanis would not hesitate to kill him.

So he did the only sensible thing he could do: he vanished.

Tanis roared with annoyance, her golden eyes searching the alley for the hidden Shadow.

“Trickery! You have deceived me, boy. Now, come out and play.” the snake woman slithered/walked around the alley, swiping her massive talons around, but finding nothing but air.

“Where are you, little demigod? I promissse I won’t hurt you… yet.”

The Shadow snuck silently around the alley, bobbing and weaving between Tanis’s swinging claws, hoping for a chance to escape. But the dracanae must’ve known what he was thinking, because she stayed near the exit. The Shadow looked toward the other end of the alleyway, but a huge brick wall blocked his only escape route. It was at least twenty feet tall, and the Shadow knew that there was no way he could get past it.

He scanned the dim alleyway, looking for any other possible getaway route. And then he saw it.

Of course, he thought, I should’ve seen it sooner!

A fire escape, leading up to the top of the building, its first ladder about nine feet off the ground. It was hidden in shadow, so if he played his cards wisely, the Shadow could escape from Tanis with nothing more than a scratch.

The Shadow’s sword lay on the concrete ground, but if he picked it up, his cover would be blown. Nothing says, Hey, snake lady! Come and kill me! like an invisible boy wielding a golden sword.

But still… if he had to fight, he didn’t want to take his chances against an ancient snake monster with his bare hands. He’d seen how fast Tanis could move.

I

JASON

JASON’S DAY WAS BAD ENOUGH. The fire-breathing tarantula just made it worse.

He was sure the front line was secure. He’d put some of his best fighters on the forward edge. But still, as they approached the fortress, Jason got the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Above him, he caught a glimpse of a large, peanut-colored horse gliding through the air, its massive wings propelling it forward.

His companion and co-praetor, Reyna, sat atop the pegasus, Scipio, watching over the Field of Mars with eyes like a hawk. Her long, black hair streamed behind her in the wind, and she had a scowl on her face. Her dark eyes scanned the horizon, and her scowl deepened.

“Jason!”

He turned to find the source of the call. Marching through the organized rows of centurias, was Gwendolyn, the Fifth Cohort’s centurion. Her short blonde hair swished around as she walked, and her dull blue eyes were locked on him. Her face was dark with determination and mud. She gripped her gladius, a short Roman sword with a wicked edge and a fatal touch. The imperial gold blade gleamed in the afternoon sun, its tip deadlier than a cobra.

“Jason!” she called again.

He ran over to her, his gold coin resting in his pocket.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Hannibal isn’t going beserk on us, is he?”

Hannibal was the armored elephant that the attacking team used to overtake the fortress during the war game Siege, which was played like capture the flag.

“No, no. Hannibal is fine. But there’s been a breach in the front line. They’re taking out our men faster than we can replace them! We need you and your centuria up front. Now!” Gwen raced back to the front of the first wave.

Jason turned back to face his centuria, a group of twenty shield bearers armed with gladii, fifteen javelin throwers, twenty-five close combat warriors armed with daggers, gladii, and swords, and twenty archers in the back for long range damage.

“Alright!” he addressed his centuria, “Here’s the plan. Bobby,” he pointed to a tall boy with close-cropped brown hair and murky brown eyes, “you and Olivia come with me. Corissa, you lead the rest of the troops around the northern edge. I’ll give you the signal when it’s time.”

Corissa, a thickset girl with long brown hair braided into a single ponytail, nodded understandingly and turned to face her army.

“Today is the day!” she shouted, raising her sword. “Today we fight to lift the curse! We fight to breach the fortress!”

A collective cheer rose up through the centuria.

“Today, we fight to WIN!”

With that, the campers broke into a frenzy, and Jason, Bobby, and Olivia slipped away.

Ω

As he rushed to the front border of their Cohort, Jason wondered if they could do it.

The Fifth Cohort was cursed, or so it was rumored. Well, not exactly rumored.

Camp Jupiter was given a gold eagle standard, allegedly by Jupiter himself. This staff was presented to the twelfth legion, a group of Roman demigods that made up most of Camp Jupiter’s population. This eagle had incredible powers over lightning, and the Legion was nicknamed “Fulminita”, or “armed with lightning” because of it.

During the Jewish rebellion, sometime around 70 AD, the staff was lost. Great disgrace was put over the camp, and luckily it was recovered later on.

During the 1980’s, Michael Varus, the senior praetor of the legion, ignored the advice of his oracle and led the Fifth Cohort on a quest to Alaska to confront the giant Alcyoneus, where his entire Cohort was demolished and the eagle was seized.

Ever since, the Fifth Cohort had been the least popular cohort, and so much bad luck had been tied to the loss of the eagle that it had become known as The Curse of the Fifth Cohort.

Jason shook his head. Negative thoughts will get me nowhere, he thought. Instead, he envisioned comforting things: walking around New Rome with Reyna. Eating in the mess hall with Dakota and Gwen. Playing Deathball alongside his Legion. Killing monsters with his friends. Playing pranks on the fauns that roam around camp looking for spare change. Watching as Octavian mercilessly ripped up teddy bears with crazed eyes, hoping for a chat with the gods. Good times.

Jason snapped back to his senses just in time to avoid being skewered. The camper thrust his javelin right to where Jason was standing only a moment before. The boy stumbled forward, and Jason brought his elbow down on the legionnaire’s shoulder. He cried out and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Immediately, a team of medics came over to where the boy was strewn on the ground and carried him away on a stretcher.

Jason brought out the coin from his pocket. It was an ancient gold coin, with the letters “IVLIVS” inscribed onto it, the Latin word for “Julius”. On one side, the face of Julius Caesar was stamped onto the coin, and on the other, a double-headed battle axe.

Instinctively, Jason flipped the coin into the air. It glistened in midair before landing on his palm, where it morphed into a double-edged imperial gold sword. Heads, he thought, smiling, I win. Instantly his battle reflexes kicked in, and he guided his team towards the ominous fortress ahead.

Jason dodged a strike that was aimed at his neck, then knocked the gladius out of his attacker’s – a bulky girl with muscular arms and a face that looked it had been smashed into a brick wall a couple hundred times – hands and drove the hilt of his sword down onto the girl’s helmet. She toppled forward, dazed and stunned.

On his left, Olivia Fontaine was holding off three warriors from the impending army. Wielding her sica, her wavy copper hair whipping around as she fought, she looked like she had spent her whole life training with that sword. Her face was twisted with fortitude, but she still had a warm sparkle in her soft amber eyes. Her skin was beaded with sweat, yet Jason could see that she was enjoying this.

She locked her hands around a short, stocky boy’s neck and drove a knee into his chest. The boy groaned and fell forward, clutching his torso.

Olivia looked up at Jason and grinned.

Although Olivia was one of the newest recruits, Jason saw much potential in her. She had exceled in sword training, but was disliked by many because she had outshined them in combat.

He rushed forward, where he spotted Dakota, who was riding atop Hannibal with a cup of Kool-Aid in one hand and a javelin in the other.

Dakota was tall, buff, and had curly black hair. His mouth was stained bright red from his addiction to Kool-Aid, which he drank with three times the normal amount of sugar. His eyes didn’t quite line up, so most of the time he had a drunken appearance.

Hannibal trumpeted and raised his front legs, heaving his head towards the sky. Dakota raised his cup of Kool-Aid and shouted, “Fifth Cohort to the rescue!” and then made a sound like a trumpet blaring. Hannibal slammed his legs back to the ground, then lowered his head and charged the fortress.

Most of the sensible campers cleared out of Hannibal’s path, but a few brave (and extremely idiotic) stood to block the raging elephant’s trail of destruction.

Hannibal didn’t hesitate to run them down.

Dakota hollered something like, “Whoop-dee-doo!” and then started singing the theme song to Gilligan’s Island, which didn’t help make Jason feel confident that his friend was capable of breaching the fort.

Together they tore through the Field of Mars en route for the enemy stronghold.

Jason followed close behind the elephant, using the massive beast as cover from the defensive army. He dodged a spear thrown from somewhere behind him. It pierced Hannibal’s armor and penetrated the beast’s tough skin.

The armored giant bellowed in agony, for the javelin had impaled his Achilles heel. Hannibal staggered forward, clearly in pain. He trumpeted one final time before falling to the ground with a massive THUD. A large dust cloud engulfed the fallen elephant, and when it cleared, Dakota appeared, half walking, half stumbling out of the veil of sift.

“Well,” he slurred, “that was fun.”

He took another swig of Kool-Aid and grinned sheepishly at Jason.

Jason groaned, but still, he couldn’t help smiling.

“Come on,” he said, “we’ve got a fortress to break into.”

Then he darted past the fallen elephant, weaving in and out between campers and medics, a plan slowly forming in his mind.

Olivia ran up beside him, her eyes scanning the vast battleground ahead of them. Her bronze helmet was tucked under one arm, while the other held her imperial gold sica, its short curved blade embossed with depictions of snakes intertwined with each other, their mouths open wide, exposing their lethal fangs.

“Are you sure we can do it?” she asked.

“No. But we’ll never know unless we try, right?” Jason replied, hoping the fear in his eyes was masked well.

“Yeah,” she said, “I guess so.”

Looking around, Jason felt a pang of worry. What if he couldn’t do it? What if he let them down, just like that day…

No, he thought, it wasn’t my fault. There was no way I could’ve known.

He shuddered, recalling that terrible day. Sarah…

Jason cleared his thoughts, focusing instead on the task ahead.

I have to do this, Jason told himself, for them.

As they neared the fortress’s back wall, Jason brought Bobby, Dakota and Olivia in close.

They all looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear his strategy.

“Okay,” Jason said, “here’s the plan.”

Ω

Immediately, things began to go wrong.