The first few days were the worst.
I slept outside on a bed of drop cloths under the stars. It got cold at night, even on the beach in the summer, so I built fires with the remains of Calypso's dining table. That cheered me up a little.
During the days, I walked the circumference of the island searching for Peri. I didn't really trust Calypso yet, so I still hadn't mentioned anything about the Omega-Blood to her. Each day I looked for Peri and found nothing, my brain convinced me more and more that she hadn't survived the fall. Still, my heart wouldn't allow me to just give up, not yet. Irrational as it was, I couldn't bring myself to accept her death unless I saw it with my own eyes.
After I did my rounds on the island, I did my best to get in touch with the others on the Argo. I tried to send an Iris-message in the rainbows that formed in the sea spray, but had no luck. I didn't have any drachmas for an offering, and apparently the goddess Iris wasn't interested in nuts and bolts.
I didn't even dream, which was unusual for me—or for any demigod—so I had no idea what was going on in the outside world. Had my friends gotten rid of Khione? Were they looking for me and Peri, or had they sailed on to Epirus to complete the quest?
I wasn't even sure what to hope for.
The dream I'd had back on the Argo II finally made sense to me—when the evil sorceress lady had told me to either jump off a cliff into the clouds or descend into a dark tunnel where ghostly voices whispered. That tunnel must have represented the House of Hades, which I would never see now. I'd taken the cliff instead, falling through the sky to this stupid island. But in the dream, I had been given a choice. In real life, I'd had none. Khione had simply plucked me off my ship and shot me into orbit— dragging Peri along for the ride. Totally unfair.
The worst part of being stuck here? I was losing track of the days. I woke up one morning and couldn't remember if I'd been on Ogygia for three nights or four.
Calypso wasn't much help. I confronted her in the garden, but she just shook her head. "Time is difficult here."
Great.
For all I knew, a century had passed in the real world, and the war with Gaea was over for better or worse. Or maybe I'd only been on Ogygia for five minutes. My whole life might pass here in the time it took my friends on the Argo II to have breakfast.
Either way, I needed to find Peri and get off this island before I go insane thinking up hypotheticals.
Calypso took pity on me in some ways. She sent her invisible servants to leave bowls of stew and goblets of apple cider at the edge of the garden. She even sent me a few new sets of clothes—simple, undyed cotton pants and shirts that she must have made on her loom. They fit me so well, I wondered if she'd gotten my measurements while I was sleeping. That'd be creepy as hell though. Maybe she just used her generic pattern for SCRAWNY MALE.
Anyway, I was glad to have new threads, since my old ones were pretty smelly and burned up. Usually I could keep my clothes from burning when I caught fire, but it took concentration. Sometimes back at camp, if I wasn't thinking about it, I'd be working on some metal project at the hot forge, look down, and realize my clothes had burned away, except for my magic tool belt and a smoking pair of underwear. Kind of embarrassing.
Despite the gifts though, Calypso obviously didn't want to see me. One time I poked my head inside the cave and she freaked out, yelling and throwing pots at my head.
Yeah, she's definitely on Team Leo.
I ended up pitching a more permanent camp near the footpath, where the beach met the hills. That way I was close enough to pick up my meals, but Calypso didn't have to see me and go into a pot-throwing rage.
To keep from spiraling down a rabbit hole of darkness and grief, I kept as busy as possible. I made myself a lean-to with sticks and canvas. I dug a campfire pit. I even managed to build myself a bench and a worktable from some driftwood and dead cedar branches. I spent hours fixing the Archimedes sphere, cleaning it and repairing its circuits. I made myself a compass, but the needle would spin all crazy no matter what I tried. I guessed a GPS would have been useless too. This island was designed to be off the charts, impossible to leave.
I remembered the old bronze astrolabe I'd picked up in Bologna— the one the dwarfs told me Odysseus had made. I had a sneaking suspicion Odysseus had been thinking about this island when he constructed it, but unfortunately I had left it back on the ship with Buford the Wonder Table. Besides, the dwarfs had told me the astrolabe didn't work. Something about a missing crystal…
I walked the beach, wondering why Khione had sent me here— assuming my landing here wasn't an accident. Why not just kill me instead? Maybe Khione wanted me to be in limbo forever. Perhaps she knew the gods were too incapacitated to pay attention to Ogygia, and so the island's magic was broken. That could be why Calypso was still stuck here, and why the magic raft wouldn't appear for me.
Or maybe the magic of this place was working just fine. The gods punished Calypso by sending her buff courageous dudes who left as soon as she fell for them. Maybe that was the problem. Calypso would never fall for me, and my heart already belonged to Peri. Besides, Calypso wanted me to leave more than anything else. So we were stuck in a vicious circle. If that was Khione's plan all along… wow. Major-league devious.
Then one morning I made a discovery, and things got even more complicated.
I was walking in the hills, following a little brook that ran between two big cedar trees. I liked this area— it was the only place on Ogygia where I couldn't see the sea, so I could pretend that I wasn't stuck on an island. In the shade of the trees, I almost felt like I was back at Camp Half-Blood, heading through the woods toward Bunker Nine. This place had become a sort of sanctuary for me on this stupid island. When my thoughts became too loud, I could sit by the flowing water and feel a sense of tranquility, almost like I wasn't alone after all.
As I was gazing at the scenery, something caught my eye. I furrowed my brows and rose from the rock that I was sitting on to investigate further. Just a few feet from the creek was a small fire pit. The way that the rocks were arranged in a circle was obviously deliberate. Someone did this. I reached my hand onto the charred wood and found that the branches were still warm to the touch. Someone was here recently.
"Peri?" I whispered in disbelief. I stood up and cupped my hands around my mouth to amplify my voice. "Peri! Peri, can you hear me? Are you out there? Peri!"
My heart was racing, but my mind was at war with itself. The rational side of my brain told me that this was stupid. Calypso could've easily been out on a walk earlier and lit this fire. This island is small, if Peri was here then I would've already run into her by now. You're being stupid. Shes dead. She's gone.
But I kept screaming her name into the heavens, practically begging for her to appear before me.
The other side of my brain argued that Calypso rarely leaves her cave, and when she does it's to tend to her garden or remind me how unattractive I am to her. It's possible that Peri survived the fall somehow and has been roaming the island aimlessly searching for me, just like I've been searching for her. Stranger things have happened. It's possible.
I'm not sure when exactly, but my hollering had morphed into pained wails. I wiped my tears of frustration on my shirt, staining the white fabric. It didn't make sense. If she was here on Ogygia then why couldn't we find each other? Could it have something to do with the magic of the island? I didn't understand. All I wanted was to know that she was alive. Maybe hold her, tell her that I'll never leave her side again.
I sighed. If Peri was in this area recently, then maybe she'd return. I wanted to leave something here so that she knew I was safe and sound, despite being stuck on Ogygia as well. I plucked a few wildflowers from around the grove and carefully placed them in the center of the fire pit. All I could do was hope that she would be able to recognize the sign from her favorite pyrotechnic.
With another sorrowful sigh, I collected myself as best I could. I didn't want Calypso to see me like this. She'd probably say I look like an ugly, sad clown, and I'd snap and choke her out— then I'd really be stuck here forever. I washed my face in the cold water of the creek before jumping over it to make the journey back to my campsite. Instead of landing on soft earth, my feet hit something much harder.
*CLANG!*
Metal.
Curiously, I dug through the mulch until I saw the glint of bronze.
"Oh, man." I breathed in awe as I excavated the scraps.
This day was just getting more and more interesting. I had no idea why this stuff was here. Hephaestus was always tossing broken parts out of his godly workshop and littering the earth with scrap metal, but what were the chances some of it would hit Ogygia? Maybe my luck was finally turning for the better.
I found a handful of wires, a few bent gears, a piston that might still work, and several hammered sheets of Celestial bronze— the smallest the size of a drink coaster, the largest the size of a war shield. It wasn't a lot— not compared to Bunker Nine, or even to my supplies aboard the Argo II. But it was more than sand and rocks.
I looked up at the sunlight winking through the cedar branches. "Dad? If you sent this here for me— thanks. If you didn't… well, thanks anyway."
I gathered up my treasure trove and lugged it back to my campsite.
After that, the days passed more quickly, and with a lot more noise. I didn't return to the creek. If the flowers hadn't been touched, if I was wrong, if Peri wasn't on Ogygia... it would've been far too painful for me to handle. I decided to rely on two things that I never held much stock in before: hope and faith. I latched onto the hope that Peri was alive. And I put my faith in her to stay alive until I could find a way to get us off of this island. Then we would sail far, far away from this place. Together.
I set to work. First I made myself a forge out of mud bricks, each one baked with my own fiery hands. I found a large rock I could use as an anvil base, and I pulled nails from my tool belt until I had enough to melt into a plate for a hammering surface.
Once that was done, I began to recast the Celestial bronze scraps. Each day my hammer rang on bronze until my rock anvil broke, or my tongs bent, or I ran out of firewood. Each evening I collapsed, drenched in sweat and covered in soot; but content with the day's progress. At least I was working, trying to solve my problem.
The first time Calypso came to check on me, it was to complain about the noise.
"Smoke and fire," she said. "Clanging on metal all day long. You're scaring away the birds!"
"Oh, no, not the birds!" I grumbled.
"What do you hope to accomplish?"
I glanced up and almost smashed my thumb with my hammer. I'd been staring at metal and fire so long I'd forgotten how beautiful Calypso was. Annoyingly beautiful. She stood there with the sunlight in her hair, her white skirt fluttering around her legs, a basket of grapes and fresh-baked bread tucked under one arm.
I tried to ignore my rumbling stomach and searing guilt for openly ogling Calypso while Peri was out there somewhere lost and hungry at best. At worst... I didn't want to think of the worst case scenario.
"I'm hoping to get off this island," I said with more bite than intended. "That is what you want, right?"
Calypso scowled. She set the basket near my bedroll. "You haven't eaten in two days. Take a break and eat."
"Two days?" I hadn't even noticed, which surprised me, since I liked food. I was even more surprised that Calypso had noticed.
"Thanks," I muttered. "I'll, uh, try to hammer more quietly."
"Huh." She sounded unimpressed.
After that, she didn't complain about the noise or the smoke.
The next time she visited, I was putting the final touches on my first project. I didn't see her until she spoke right behind me.
"I brought you—"
I jumped, dropping my wires. "Bronze bulls, girl! Don't sneak up on me like that!"
She was wearing red today— my favorite color. That was completely irrelevant. She looked really good in red. Also irrelevant.
"I wasn't sneaking," she said. "I was bringing you these."
She showed me the clothes that were folded over her arm: a new pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, an army fatigue jacket… wait, those were my clothes, except that they couldn't be. My original army jacket was still on the Argo. I hadn't been wearing it when I landed on Ogygia. But the clothes Calypso held looked exactly like the clothes I'd been wearing the first day I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood—except these looked bigger, resized to fit me better.
"How?" I asked.
Calypso set the clothes at my feet and backed away as if I were a dangerous beast. "I do have a little magic, you know. You keep burning through the clothes I give you, so I thought I would weave something less flammable."
"These won't burn?" I picked up the jeans, but they felt just like normal denim.
"They are completely fireproof," Calypso promised. "They'll stay clean and expand to fit you, should you ever become less scrawny."
"Thanks." I meant it to sound sarcastic, but I was honestly impressed. I could make a lot of things, but an inflammable, self-cleaning outfit wasn't one of them. "So… you made an exact replica of my favorite outfit. Did you, like, Google me or something?"
She frowned. "I don't know that word."
"You looked me up," I said with a smug smirk. "Almost like you had some interest in me."
She wrinkled her nose. "I have an interest in not making you a new set of clothes every other day. I have an interest in your not smelling so bad and walking around my island in smoldering rags."
"Oh, yeah." I grinned. "You're really warming up to me."
Her face got even redder, which I thought was kind of cute. "You are the most insufferable person I have ever met! I was only returning a favor. You fixed my fountain."
"That?" I laughed. The problem had been so simple, I'd almost forgotten about it. One of the bronze satyrs had gotten turned sideways and the water pressure was off, so it started making an annoying ticking sound, jiggling up and down, and spewing water over the rim of the pool. I'd pulled out a couple of tools and fixed it in about two minutes. "That was no big deal. I don't like it when things don't work right."
"And the curtains across the cave entrance?"
"The rod wasn't level."
"And my gardening tools?"
"Look, I just sharpened the shears," I said. "Cutting vines with a dull blade is dangerous. And the pruners needed to be oiled at the hinge, and—"
"Oh, yeah," Calypso said, in a pretty good imitation of my voice. "You're really warming up to me."
For once, I was speechless. Calypso's dark eyes glittered like coals in a fire. I knew she was making fun of me, but somehow it didn't feel mean. Apparently by leaving her alone, I've made Calypso actually start to like me. Huh. Go figure.
She pointed at my worktable. "What are you building?"
"Oh." I looked at the bronze mirror, which I'd just finished wiring up to the Archimedes sphere.
In the screen's polished surface, my own reflection surprised me. My hair had grown out longer and curlier. My face was thinner and more chiseled, maybe because I hadn't been eating. My eyes were dark and a little ferocious when I wasn't smiling— kind of a Tarzan look, if Tarzan came in extra-small Latino. I couldn't blame Calypso for backing away from me.
"Uh, it's a seeing device," I said. "We found one like this in Rome, in the workshop of Archimedes. If I can make it work, maybe I can find out what's going on with my friends."
Calypso shook her head. "That's impossible. This island is hidden, cut off from the world by strong magic. Time doesn't even flow the same here."
"Well, you've got to have some kind of outside contact. How did you find out that I used to wear an army jacket?"
She twisted her hair as if the question made her uncomfortable. "Seeing the past is simple magic. Seeing the present or the future— that is not."
"Yeah, well," I started confidently. "Watch and learn, Sunshine. I just connect these last two wires, and—"
The bronze plate sparked. Smoke billowed from the sphere. A flash of fire raced up my sleeve. I pulled off my shirt, threw it down, and stomped on it.
I could tell Calypso was trying not to laugh, but she was shaking with the effort.
"Not a word," I warned.
She glanced at my bare chest, which was sweaty, lean, and streaked with old scars from weapon-making accidents. Her gaze lingered on my lower abdomen for a little too long. The look in her eyes reminded me of the looks Peri would give me during our late night Engine Room rendezvous. The same half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with want and lust. My cheeks grew hot, and I felt my blood rushing south as my hormonal body betrayed me. Another pang of guilt washed over me, and I scrambled for the fireproof shirt that Calypso had just brought.
"Nothing worth commenting on," she assured me, but I didn't quite buy it. "If you want that device to work, perhaps you should try a musical invocation."
"Right," I said as I pulled the shirt over my head. "Whenever an engine malfunctions, I like to tap-dance around it. Works every time."
She took a deep breath and began to sing.
Her voice hit me like a cool breeze— like that first cold front in Texas when the summer heat finally breaks and you start to believe things might get better. I couldn't understand the words, but the song was plaintive and bittersweet, as if she were describing a home she could never return to.
Her singing was magic, no doubt. But it wasn't like Medea's trance-inducing voice, or even Piper's charmspeak. The music didn't want anything from me. It simply reminded me of my best memories— building things with my mom in her workshop; sitting in the sunshine with my friends at camp; kissing Peri for the very first time. It made me miss home.
Calypso stopped singing. I realized I was staring like an idiot. I could feel the blood rushing to my ears.
"Any luck?" she asked.
"Uh…" I forced my eyes back to the bronze mirror. "Nothing. Wait…"
The screen glowed. In the air above it, holographic pictures shimmered to life. I recognized the commons at Camp Half-Blood.
There was no sound, but Clarisse LaRue from the Ares Cabin was yelling orders at the campers, forming them into lines. My brethren from Cabin Nine hurried around, fitting everyone with armor and passing out weapons. Even Chiron the centaur was dressed for war. He trotted up and down the ranks, his plumed helmet gleaming, his legs decked in bronze greaves. His usual friendly smile was gone, replaced with a look of grim determination.
In the distance, Greek triremes floated on Long Island Sound, prepped for war. Along the hills, catapults were being primed. Satyrs patrolled the fields, and riders on pegasi circled overhead, alert for aerial attacks.
"Your friends?" Calypso asked.
I nodded. My face felt numb. "They're preparing for war."
"Against whom?"
"Look," I said.
The scene changed. A phalanx of Roman demigods marched through a moonlit vineyard. An illuminated sign in the distance read: GOLDSMITH WINERY.
"I've seen that sign before," I said. "That's not far from Camp Half-Blood."
Suddenly the Roman ranks deteriorated into chaos. Demigods scattered. Shields fell. Javelins swung wildly, like the whole group had stepped in fire ants.
Darting through the moonlight were two small hairy shapes dressed in mismatched clothes and garish hats. They seemed to be everywhere at once— whacking Romans on the head, stealing their weapons, cutting their belts so their pants fell around their ankles.
I couldn't help grinning. "Those beautiful little troublemakers! They kept their promise."
Calypso leaned in, watching the Kerkopes. "Cousins of yours?"
"Ha, ha, ha, no," I said. "Couple of dwarfs I met in Bologna. I sent them to slow down the Romans, and they're doing it."
"But for how long?" Calypso wondered.
Good question. The scene shifted again. I saw Octavian— that no-good blond scarecrow of an augur. He stood in a gas station parking lot, surrounded by black SUVs and Roman demigods. He held up a long pole wrapped in canvas. When he uncovered it, a golden eagle glimmered at the top.
"Oh, that's not good," I muttered.
"A Roman standard," Calypso noted.
"Yeah. And this one shoots lightning, according to Percy."
As soon as I said Percy's name, I regretted it. I glanced at Calypso. I could see in her eyes how much she was struggling, trying to marshal her emotions into neat orderly rows like strands on her loom. What surprised me most was the surge of anger I felt. It wasn't just annoyance or jealousy. I was mad at Percy for hurting this girl. Peri and I have exchanged some pretty harsh words in the heat of the moment, but I would never just abandon her like Percy did to Calypso. It was wrong, plain and simple.
I refocused on the holographic images. Now I saw a single rider— Reyna, the praetor from Camp Jupiter— flying through a storm on the back of a light-brown pegasus. Reyna's dark hair flew in the wind. Her purple cloak fluttered, revealing the glimmer of her armor. She was bleeding from cuts on her arms and face. Her pegasus's eyes were wild, his mouth slathering from hard riding; but Reyna peered steadfastly forward into the storm.
As I watched, a wild gryphon dived out of the clouds. It raked its claws across the horse's ribs, almost throwing Reyna. She drew her sword and slashed the monster down. Seconds later, three venti appeared— dark air spirits swirling like miniature tornadoes laced with lightning. Reyna charged them, yelling defiantly.
Then the bronze mirror went dark.
"No!" I yelled. "No, not now. Show me what happens!" I banged on the mirror. "Calypso, can you sing again or something?"
She glared daggers at me. "I suppose that is your girlfriend? Your Penelope? Your Elizabeth? Your Annabeth?"
"What?" I couldn't figure this girl out. Half the stuff she said made no sense. "That's Reyna. She's not my girlfriend! I need to see more! I need—"
NEED, a voice rumbled in the ground beneath my feet. I staggered, suddenly feeling like I was standing on the surface of a trampoline.
NEED is an overused word. A swirling human figure erupted from the sand— my least favorite goddess, the Mistress of Mud, the Princess of Potty Sludge, Gaea herself.
I threw a pair of pliers at her. Unfortunately she wasn't solid, and they passed right through. Her eyes were closed, but she didn't look asleep, exactly. She had a smile on her dust devil face, as if she were intently listening to her favorite song. Her sandy robes shifted and folded, reminding me of the undulating fins on that stupid shrimpzilla monster we'd fought in the Atlantic. For my money, though, Gaea was uglier.
You want to live, Gaea said. You want to join your friends. But you do not need this, my poor boy. It would make no difference. Your friends will die, regardless.
My legs shook. I hated it, but whenever this witch appeared, I felt like I was eight years old again, trapped in the lobby of my mom's machine shop, listening to Gaea's soothing evil voice while my mother was locked inside the burning warehouse, dying from heat and smoke.
"What I don't need," I growled, "is more lies from you, Dirt Face. You told me my great-granddad died in the 1960s. Wrong! You told me I couldn't save my friends in Rome. Wrong! You told me a lot of things."
Gaea's laughter was a soft rustling sound, like dirt trickling down a hill in the first moments of an avalanche.
I tried to help you make better choices. You could have saved yourself. But you defied me at every step. You built your ship. You joined that foolish quest. Now you are trapped here, helpless, while the mortal world dies.
My hands burst into flame. I wanted to melt Gaea's sandy face to glass. Then I felt Calypso's hand on my shoulder.
"Gaea." Her voice was stern and steady. "You are not welcome."
I wished I could sound as confident as Calypso. Then I remembered that this annoying fifteen-year-old girl was actually the immortal daughter of a Titan.
Ah, Calypso. Gaea raised her arms as if for a hug. Still here, I see, despite the gods' promises. Why do you think that is, my dear grandchild? Are the Olympians being spiteful, leaving you with no company except this undergrown fool? Or have they simply forgotten you, because you are not worth their time?
Calypso stared straight through the swirling face of Gaea, all the way to the horizon.
Yes, Gaea murmured sympathetically. The Olympians are faithless. They do not give second chances. Why do you hold out hope? You supported your father, Atlas, in his great war. You knew that the gods must be destroyed. Why do you hesitate now? I offer you a chance that Zeus would never give you.
"Where were you these last three thousand years?" Calypso asked. "If you are so concerned with my fate, why do you visit me only now?"
Gaea turned up her palms. The earth is slow to wake. War comes in its own time. But do not think it will pass you by on Ogygia. When I remake the world, this prison will be destroyed as well.
"Ogygia destroyed?" Calypso shook her head, as if she couldn't imagine those two words going together.
You do not have to be here when that happens, Gaea promised. Join me now. Kill this boy. Spill his blood upon the earth, and help me to wake. I will free you and grant you any wish. Freedom. Revenge against the gods. Even a prize. Would you still have the demigod Percy Jackson? I will spare him for you. I will raise him from Tartarus. He will be yours to punish or to love, as you choose. Only kill this trespassing boy. Show your loyalty.
Several scenarios went through my head—none of them good. I was positive Calypso would strangle me on the spot, or order her invisible wind servants to chop me into a tasty Leo purée.
Why wouldn't she? Gaea was making her the ultimate deal— kill one annoying guy, get a handsome one free!
Calypso thrust her hand toward Gaea in a three-fingered gesture I recognized from Camp Half-Blood: the Ancient Greek ward against evil. "This is not just my prison, Grandmother. It is my home. And you are the trespasser."
The wind ripped Gaea's form into nothingness, scattering the sand into the blue sky.
I swallowed. "Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but you didn't kill me. Are you crazy?"
Calypso's eyes smoldered with anger, but for once I didn't think the anger was aimed at me. "Your friends must need you, or else Gaea would not ask for your death."
"I— uh, yeah. I guess."
"Then we have work to do," she said. "We must get you back to your ship."