My World, But Not Mine (Part I)

by Zayden Shade

23 year old Percy Jackson is thrown from his world into another universe, one that seems too similar to his own. What happens to him as he relives his own adventures, but beside himself. Or is it herself? Future character pairing, Mild language, AU & Time Travel, OP MC

21. Delve in the Endless Maze

Atalanta POV:

Timeless.

That's the word that I would use to describe how I feel right now. Staring down endless corridors that lead to who knows where, with thick dangling vines decorating the moldy concrete walls, dripping occasionally with rivulets of water. The whole tunnel was more or less like a New York sewer tunnel, but endless and probably not under one city. Percy constantly reminded me how the Labyrinth's structure simply didn't make sense, not only just dilating time but also distance as well. Like, the five minutes we've been down here for means that an hour has passed above ground, and maybe 5 accidental feet to the left could teleport us to mid-America.

Within a few steps, we were hopelessly lost. I tried my best to guide my group, but knew that it was sort of pointless to search for a reliable means of way to navigate. It was the Labyrinth we were in after all, a maze designed to make those inside of it lose their minds to monsters and helplessness, not similar at all to those easy mazes in child activity books that took one glance to solve.

Walls disappeared right after we left them, so leaving behind markers was no more than a waste of our time. Doorways opened up to nowhere, textures of the floor and ceiling changed from modern maintenance to ancient Roman red bricks, to New York sewers, then to regular old dirt mineshaft. No matter where we went, we couldn't trace our way back to camp, and instead found ourselves in a circular room with eight tunnels leading out.

"I'm getting seriously tired of doorways," I muttered.

"You don't say," Grover replied, his teeth slightly chattering, from nervousness or fear, I don't know. Perhaps both. "It doesn't make sense. Why would Pan be down here? This is the opposite of the Wild!"

"So which one?" Tyson asked.

I shrugged, aiming my flashlight down a random hole. Doubt would only make this quest worst, might as well deal with whatever's on the other side. "Let's go down there. No harm in being wrong right?"

Grover whimpered and chewed on his fifth tin can. "Sure-sure, no harm..."

The tunnel I'd chosen narrowed quickly, the walls turning to gray cement. The ceiling got so low that we began to walk, hunched over. Tyson was forced to crawl.

Grover's hyperventilating was the loudest noise in the maze. I wanted so badly to tell him to just suck it up, but that would only make him more nervous. We kept shuffling forward. Just when I thought the tunnel was going to fully squish us, it opened up into a huge room. I shined my light around the walls, amazed. "Whoa."

The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were grimy and faded but I could still make out the colors: red, blue, green, gold. The frieze showed the Olympian gods at a feast. There was my dad, Poseidon, with his trident, holding out grapes for Dionysus to turn into wine. Zeus was partying with satyrs, and Hermes was flying through the air on his winged sandals. The pictures were beautiful, but they weren't very accurate. I'd seen the gods. Dionysus was not that handsome, and Hermes' nose wasn't so big. To be fair, I had seen the gods in person, while these artists who created the frieze probably didn't.

In the middle was a three-tier Roman style fountain, that looked as ancient and weathered as the rest of the walls and floor of the room. The fountain was gray and green, and looked like it hadn't held water in it for quite a few centuries.

"What is this place?" Grover breathed.

"I believe it's Roman," I said. "Must be hundreds, maybe thousands of years old, kept alive by the Labyrinth's evolution."

"Evolution?"

"I don't really get it either," I admitted. "But Percy told me that the Labyrinth is able to grow and develop, expanding itself to add pieces of the world around it. Almost like it's sentient. That's why the tunnels change from modern to ancient material, because of this... theory."

A groaning noise echoed from the tunnel in front of us.

"Let's not talk about it being alive," Grover whimpered. "Please?"

I turned. "Sure. Forward then."

"Down the hall with bad sounds?" Tyson asked.

"Yes, unless someone else has a better idea, we might as well continue forward." I said.

We made it maybe 10 feet before the architecture began messing with us again. It went from ancient Roman to steampunk themed, the walls running with nests of brass pipes and sprayed with graffiti. A neon tagger sign read MOZ RULZ.

"Yup, definitely growing," I said. "Even old greek mazes usually don't have graffiti on them."

We stumbled into a wine cellar, again, a place that shouldn't belong underground but existed in a maze that made no sense. Later the ceiling turned to wooden planks, accompanied by muffled noises that sounded like stomping footsteps, like there was a rave going on above us. Of course, since it was the Labyrinth, there were no entries or tunnels leading up, and soon, we left the dance floor noises behind. Then, we found our first skeleton.

He was dressed in white clothes, like some kind of uniform. A wooden crate of glass bottles sat next to him.

"No way," I widened my eyes in disbelief. "Is that a milkman?"

"Seems like it," Grover gulped. "He's been down here a long time." He pointed to the skeleton's bottles, which were coated with white dust. The skeleton's fingers were clawing at the brick wall, like he died trying to escape.

"Only bones," Tyson said. "Don't worry, goat boy. The milkman is dead."

"The milkman doesn't bother me," Grover said. "It's the smell. Monsters. Can't you smell it?"

Tyson nodded. "Lots of monsters. But underground smells like that. Monsters and dead milk people."

"Oh good," Grover whimpered. "I thought maybe I was wrong."

"Let's keep going," I said. I led my friends deeper into the maze, taking a right, then a left, then through this stainless steel corridor like some kind of air shaft, before we returned to the Roman room with a fountain.

This time, we weren't alone.

What I noticed first were his faces. Both of them. Now, I was no stranger to weird sights, because Greek mythological beings had plenty of beings that looked unnatural, but this was a different level of weird. It was one thing to see drawings in a textbook, and entirely different to see the same thing moving and talking to you in real life.

Back to his faces, they jutted out from either side of his head, staring over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than it should've been, kinda like a hammerhead shark's. Looking straight at him, all I saw were two overlapping ears and mirror-image sideburns. He was dressed like a New York City doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black top-hat that somehow managed to stay on his double-wide head.

"Well, Atalanta?" said the left face. "Hurry up!"

"Don't mind him," said the right face. "He's terribly rude. Right this way, miss."

I raised an eyebrow. I didn't know whether to laugh or reply. I chose confusion.

Apparently, Tyson did the same. "That funny man has two faces."

"The funny man has ears, you know!" the left face scolded. "Now come along miss."

"No, no, this way miss," the right face said. "Talk to me, please."

"Uh..." I wracked my head for the identity of this creature... er, god maybe? He kept talking about choices, and passed a silver key from one hand to next as he talked out of the two sides of his head. It was then that I realized what he was asking us to choose from.

Behind him were two exits, blocked by wooden doors with huge iron locks. The doors hadn't been here the last time we were here in this room. Behind us, the way we came from melted into more red bricks. We wouldn't be moving backwards anytime soon.

"You want me to choose a doorway?" I asked. "Why give me a choice now, when we've been choosing randomly for like, the past hour?"

"Don't sass me," the left face said.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. What makes these doors any different than what we've gone through already?"

"One probably leads the way you wish to go," the right face said encouragingly. "The other leads to certain death."

"Ah yes," I said. "Obviously."

"Again, with the sass!" the left face sneered. "Choose a path! I don't have all day."

"Before I choose," I said. "Who are you?"

"I'm your best friend," the right face said.

"I'm your worst enemy," the left face said.

"I'm Janus," both faces said in harmony. "God of Doorways. Beginnings. Endings. Choices."

"I guess watching movies with you is a nightmare then," I couldn't help but say. Before I could say anything else, a bright flash of light suddenly flooded the room.

Janus raised his hands to either side of his head to cover his eyes. When the light died, a woman was standing at the fountain.

She was tall and graceful, with long hair the color of chocolate, braided in plaits with gold ribbons. She wore a simple white dress, but when she moved, the fabric shimmered with colors like oil on water.

"Janus, are we causing trouble again?" She asked.

"N-no, milady!" Janus' right face stammered.

"Yes!" the left face said.

"Shut up!" the right face said.

"Excuse me?" The woman asked.

"Not you milady," the right face huffed. "I was talking to myself."

"I see," the lady said. "You know very well your visit is premature. The girl's time has not yet come. So I give you a choice: leave these heroes to me, or I shall turn you into a door and break you down."

"What kind of door?" the left face asked.

"Shut up!" the right face said.

"Because French doors are nice," the left face mused. "Lot of natural light."

"Shut up!" the right face wailed. "Not you, milady. Of course I'll leave. I was just having a bit of fun. Doing my job. Offering choices."

"Causing indecision," the woman corrected. "Now be gone."

The left face muttered, "Party pooper," before raising the silver key in his hand up into the air and vanishing, inserting the key like he was putting it into a lock.

The woman turned toward us. One glance at her face told me that she was probably a goddess of sorts, as her eyes shined with power. I was about to ask who she was when she spoke first.

"You must be hungry," she said. "Sit with me and talk."

She waved her hand, and the old Roman fountain began to spray water, clear clean water from nowhere. I could tell from using my powers that it was fresh untainted water too, safe to drink. I'm pretty sure this lady was not my dad, but who else could summon clean water from nowhere, besides Poseidon, Percy, Zoe maybe, and me (to a certain extent)?

A marble table also appeared, laden with platters of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade. My stomach rumbled at the sight of fresh food. The woman smiled warmly, though there seemed to be a hint of ice on the edge, almost like she was saying I'm-nice-unless-you-piss-me-off.

"Who are you?" I asked cautiously, trying to look like I just wanted to eat.

"Help yourself," the woman said, gesturing towards the table. "As for who I am, I am Hera. Queen of Heaven."

§§§§§

I'd seen Hera once before at a Council of the Gods, but I hadn't paid much attention to her. At the time I'd been surrounded by a bunch of other gods in superhuman size debating whether or not to kill me. Granted, Percy would've probably stopped that from happening, but still, kinda hard to stare at the gods casually just to observe them.

I didn't remember the goddess looking so normal. But now, Hera looked, and acted, like a regular mom.

She served us sandwiches and poured us lemonade.

"Grover, dear," she said. "Use your napkin. Don't eat it."

"Yes, ma'am." Grover said.

"Tyson, you're wasting away. Would you like another peanut butter sandwich?"

Tyson stifled a belch. "Yes, nice lady."

"Queen Hera?" I said in disbelief, chewing on a sandwich thoughtfully. "What brings you down here to the dark depths of the Labyrinth?"

Hera smiled. She flicked one finger and my hair combed itself. All the dirt and grime on my body disappeared instantly, and I felt like I'd just come out of the shower. "I came to see you, naturally." the goddess said.

"Right." I said neutrally. I thought about what to say while watching my friends eat. Grover had switched from the napkin to the Styrofoam cups, crunching the cups down one after another. Tyson was inhaling peanut butter sandwiches faster than Luffy from One Piece ate, which was quite a feat. He was mowing through the self-replenishing plate, like he'd been starved for years.

"I thought," I said carefully. "I thought that you didn't like heroes though?"

"Because of that spat I had with Hercules?" Hera smiled indulgently. The ice on her smile was a bit more prominent now. "Honestly, I got so much bad press because of one disagreement."

If mythology doesn't lie though, I thought, and it hasn't so far, you drove him into madness and tried to kill him several times. I probably shouldn't bring up old wounds with the goddess in front of me, considering that I wasn't Percy and definitely couldn't take her on.

"At any rate," Hera continued. "I certainly bear no ill will, my girl. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have troublemakers like Janus to deal with."

"Oh yah," I swallowed another bite. "Why was he here? Like I said, we've been choosing paths several minutes already."

"Making trouble, trying to frustrate you," Hera explained. "You must understand, the minor gods like Janus have always been frustrated by the small parts they play in the universe. Some, I fear, have little love for Olympus, and could easily be swayed to support the rise of my father."

"Your fa–" I paused. "Oh right, Kronos." Sometimes, I forget how half of the gods were kids of the Big Bad Titan, as were various other creatures, including Chiron. That made Kronos my grandad, which was weird too. It was better to not think too much into godly bloodlines.

"We must watch the minor gods," Hera said. "Janus. Hecate. Morpheus. They give lip service to Olympus. Yet–"

"That's where Dionysus went," I remembered. "He was checking on the minor gods."

"Indeed," Hera stared at the fading mosaics of the Olympians. "You see, in times of trouble, even the gods can lose faith. They start putting their trust in the wrong things, petty things. They stop looking at the big picture and start being selfish. But I'm the goddess of marriage, you see. I'm used to perseverance. you have to rise above the squabbling and chaos, and keep believing. You have to always keep your goals in mind."

"And what are your goals?" I asked.

Hera smiled. "To keep my family, the Olympians, together of course. At the moment, the best way I can do that is by helping you. Zeus does not allow me to interfere much, I am afraid. But once every century or so, for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish."

"A wish?" This sounded doubtful. No such thing as a free lunch after all.

"Before you ask it, let me give you some advice, which I can do for free. I know you seek Daedalus. His Labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But if you want to know his fate, I would visit my son Hephaestus at his forge. Daedalus was a great inventor, a mortal after Hephaestus' heart. There has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would have kept up with Daedalus and could tell you his fate, it is Hephaestus."

"But how do we get there?" I asked. "I–" I paused. If I used my wish on Hera, she may not tell me directly. That's how the gods were like after all. They'll give you a clue, hidden under riddles and questions and whatnot, then leave, going like "I've already said it, now figure it out!"

"Can I save the wish for a later date?" I asked carefully.

"Why not use it now?" Hera asked, her voice outlined again, with a thin layer of ice.

"I believe that without a moment of great importance, the wish would be useless," I said. "Currently, we've barely stepped foot into the Labyrinth. The only known way of navigation is with Ariadne's string, which is most likely with Daedalus. So asking for a direct route to Hephaestus, or Daedalus, seems too easy. You would most likely give a hint, but not an exact answer."

Hera blinked. "You're wise, Atalanta."

I shook my head. "A wish from a god should be saved for a moment of need, not used rashly. Even if it's a freebie from the Queen of Heaven." I kept my tone polite, trying not to anger the goddess in any way. Grover was watching me fearfully behind his clump of tin cans and Styrofoam cups, watching the tradeoff between me and the goddess like he was watching a bomb about to explode.

The goddess stood as thunder rumbled above us, despite us being underground. "Zeus grows impatient. You may keep the wish for a later date. Remember Atalanta, your date of choice has been postponed, but it's coming! So be prepared. Seek out Hephaestus. You'll have to pass through a ranch, I imagine. And before I leave," She pointed towards the two doors, melting them away and revealing long black corridors that were identical. "Good luck, daughter of Poseidon." And she vanished.

When she did, everything she had summoned also disappeared. Tyson chomped into his hundredth sandwich, which exploded into white smoke in his mouth. The water in the fountain trickled to a stop. The mosaic walls dimmed and turned grungy and faded again. The room was no longer any place you'd want to have a picnic.

"Atti, are you insane?!" Grover threw his hands up, free of human non-edibles for once. "Talking back to Hera, then saving her wish for later?"

I shrugged, not so sure why Grover was so antsy. "It was the truth though. Why use the wish when we haven't learned anything?"

"That's why you'd use the wish!"

I shook my head. "I would, but also, I have a more reliable source for confusing questions."

"You mean Perseus?" Grover's tone turned cold.

"Yes," I said. "Why're you so hostile all of a sudden?"

"I don't trust him as easily as you do, Atti," Grover sighed. "He knows too much, understands the situation better than even Chiron can at times. And ever since he's been training you..." The satyr stopped. "You've become less... polite, in some sense. More knowledgeable, more risky at times. Daring to do more, even in front of gods."

I nodded. "Look, I know it's weird, but he's been helping me out a lot. I've gotten much stronger thanks to him, mentally and physically. He and I share the same powers, and since he's awesome with his, it makes sense that he helps me train for the final battle." I had forgotten that Grover only knew Percy was from an alternate universe, but not specifically one that followed my exact timeline. Again, recalling how scary it was for someone to have already lived my life living next to me.

I rolled my shoulders back and stretched. "Look, if we run into serious problems, I'll use the wish. But I trust Percy more in giving accurate information, and so I'll IM him first if we have issues."

"Fine," Grover agreed. "Just don't be upset if his advice gets us killed."

I decided not to retort against Grover's negativity. He didn't know the whole truth after all, so his doubt wasn't necessarily unreasonable.

"So what next?" I asked. "Left or right?"

Grover and Tyson tensed, then stood at once, as if they had rehearsed it. "Left."

"Are you sure?" I asked. They sounded so certain.

"Because something is coming from the right," Grover said.

"Something big," Tyson agreed. "In a hurry, too."

"Left is sounding pretty good," I said. "Let's haul ass before we die then." Together, we plunged into the dark corridor.

§§§§§

The good news: the left tunnel went straight with no side turns, exits, or twists. The bad news: it led straight to a dead end. After sprinting a hundred yards or so, we ran into a n enormous boulder that completely blocked our path. Behind us, the sounds of dragging footsteps and heavy breathing echoed down the corridor. Something, definitely not human, unless Darth Vader had somehow amplified his breathing and was wearing Bigfoot sized and weighted shoes, was on our tail.

"Tyson," I panted. "can you–?"

"Yes!" He replied before I even finished. He slammed his shoulder against the rock so hard that the whole tunnel shook. Dust trickled from the stone ceiling.

"Hurry," Grover said. "Don't bring the roof down, but hurry!"

The boulder finally gave way with a horrible grinding noise. Tyson pushed it into a small room and we dashed through behind it.

"Close the entrance!" I shouted.

We all got on the other side of the entrance and pushed. Whatever was chasing us wailed in frustration as we heaved the rock back into place and sealed the corridor.

"We've trapped it," I said.

"Or trapped ourselves," Grover said.

I turned. We were in a twenty-foot-square cement room, and the opposite wall was covered with metal bars. We'd tunneled straight into a cell.

"What the heck?" I said, running my hand down the dirty metal bars. Through the bars, we could see rows of cells in a ring around a dark courtyard, at least three stories of metal doors and metal catwalks.

"A prison," I said. "Tyson, can you–?"

"Shh," said Grover. "Listen."

Somewhere above us, deep sobbing echoed through the building. There was another sound, too, a raspy voice muttering something that I couldn't make out. The words were strange, like rocks in a tumbler.

"What's that language?" I whispered.

Tyson's eyes widened. "It can't be..."

"What?" I asked.

Tyson grabbed two bars on our cell door and bent them wide enough for even a Cyclops to slip through.

"Wait!" Grover called.

But Tyson wasn't about to wait. We ran after him. The prison was dark, only a few dim fluorescent lights flickering above. Shadows danced menacingly beside us. We kept going until Grover halted. "Tyson, freeze!"

Tyson kept going, until Grover grabbed his arm and pulled with all his strength. "Tyson!" He hissed. "Can't you see it?"

I looked where he was pointing, and my stomach did a somersault. On the second-floor balcony, across the courtyard, was a monster more horrible than anything I'd ever seen before.

It was sort of like a centaur, with a woman's body from the waist up. That was the only similarity. Instead of a horse's lower body, it had a body of a dragon, at least 20 feet long, black and scaly with enormous claws and a barbed tail. Her legs looked like they were tangled in vines, but then I realized they were sprouting snakes, thousands of vipers that writhed and darted around, constantly looking for something to bite. The woman's hair was also made of snakes, like Medusa's. Weirdest of all, around her waist, where the woman part met the dragon part, her skin bubbled and morphed, occasionally producing heads of animals: a vicious wolf, a bear, a lion, as if she were wearing a belt of ever-changing creatures. I got the feeling that I was looking at some unfinished project of godly creation, or scraps of ideas tossed in a blender and this was the result. Whatever the case, the sight was revolting.

Clearly, Grover and Tyson thought about the same.

"It's her," Tyson whimpered. I'd never heard him sound so afraid before.

"Get down!" Grover hissed, shoving his hands on our backs.

We crouched in the shadows, but the monster wasn't paying us any attention. it seemed to be talking to someone inside a cell on the second floor. That's where the sobbing was coming from. The dragon woman said something in her weird rumbling language.

"What is she saying?" I asked.

"The tongue of the old times. What Mother Earth spoke to Titans... and her other children. Before the gods." Tyson explained.

I exhaled. No wonder Tyson recognized it. It was woven in his genes. "Can you translate?" I asked, almost regretting it immediately.

Tyson closed his eyes and began to speak in a horrible raspy woman's voice. "You will work for the master or suffer."

Grover shuddered. "Ugh, I forgot Cyclops can do that."

Like all Cyclops, Tyson has superhuman hearing and the uncanny ability to mimic voices of any tone and language. It was almost like he entered a trance when he spoke in other voices.

"I will not serve," Tyson continued in a deep, wounded voice.

He switched to the monster's voice. "Then I shall enjoy your pain Briares." Tyson faltered when he said that name. I'd never heard him break character when mimicking somebody, so this Briares must be someone he knew. Tyson let out a strangled gulp, then continued in the monster's voice. "If you thought your first imprisonment was unbearable, you have yet to feel real torment. Think on this until I return."

The dragon lady tromped toward the stairwell, vipers hissing around her legs like grass skirts. She spread wings that I hadn't noticed before: huge bat wings folded on her dragon back. She leapt off the catwalk and soared across the courtyard. We crouched lower in the shadows. A hot sulfurous wind blasted my face as the monster flew over. I retched, and noticed Grover's face of extreme disgust, the sight making me let out a stifled laugh that got me over my nauseous feeling. Still, I couldn't forget the sight of the monster.

"H-h-horrible," Grover said. "I've never smelled any monster that strong."

"Cyclops' worst nightmare," Tyson murmured. "Kampê."

"Who?" I asked.

Tyson swallowed. "Every Cyclops knows about her. Stories about her scare us when we're babies. She was our jailer in the bad years."

"The bad years?" I blinked, then inhaled sharply. "Oh, you mean back before the gods again?"

Tyson nodded.

"She was the jailer for the original Cyclops and... what are they called again? The Hundred Handed Ones?" I asked.

"Very powerful," Tyson said. "Wonderful! As tall as the sky! So strong that they could break mountains!"

"Awesome," I said. "Unless you're the mountain."

"Kampê worked for Kronos," Tyson said. "She kept our brothers locked up in Tartarus, tortured them always, until Zeus came. He killed Kampê and freed Cyclops and Hundred Handed Ones to help fight against the Titans in the big war."

"And now, Kampê is reborn," I said.

"Bad." Tyson summed up.

"So who's in the cell?" I asked. "You said a name–?"

"Briares!" Tyson perked up. "He is a Hundred Handed One. They are as tall as the sky and–"

"They break mountains." I finished. I looked up and wondered how something as tall as the sky could fit in a tiny prison cell, and why he was crying. "Let's hurry and visit him then, before Kampê comes back."

We snuck quietly out of our hiding place and climbed up, heading towards the cell where the weeping slowly got louder. When I first saw the creature inside, I wasn't sure what I was looking at. He was human-size and his skin was very pale, the color of milk. He wore a loincloth like a big diaper. His feet were too big for his body, with cracked dirty toenails, eight toes on each foot. But the top half of his body was the weird part. He made Janus look downright normal. His chest sprouted more arms than I could count (hence the name I guess), in rows, all around his body. The arms looked like normal arms, but there were so many of them, all tangled together, that his chest looked kind of like a forkful of spaghetti somebody swirled together. Several of his hands were covering his face as he sobbed.

"Uh, either the sky isn't as tall as it used to be," I said. "Or he's short."

Tyson didn't pay any attention, and fell to his knees. "Briares!" He called.

The sobbing stopped.

"Great Hundred Handed One!" Tyson said. "Help us!"

Briares looked up. His face was long and sad, with a crooked nose and bad teeth. he had deep brown eyes, like completely brown with no white or black pupils, like opaque orbs staring into your soul.

"Run while you can, Cyclops!" Briares said miserably. "I cannot even help myself."

"You're a Hundred Handed One!" Tyson insisted. "You can do anything!"

Briares wiped his nose with five or six hands. Several others were fidgeting with little pieces of metal and wood from a broken bed, the way Tyson always played with spare parts. It was amazing to watch. The hands seemed to have a mind of their own, building a toy boat out of wood and disassembling it just as fast. Other hands were scratching at the cement floor for no apparent reason. Others were playing rock, paper, scissors. A few others were making ducky and doggie shadow puppets against the wall.

"I cannot!" Briares moaned. "Kampê is back. The Titans will rise and throw us back into Tartarus!"

"No offense." I spoke out. "But I don't think the Titans stand even a chance at rising." Not with Percy existing in this world at least. "Plus, trying to rebel against Kampê must be better than rotting away in a cage."

Briares shook his head. "Resistance is futile. Even if you help."

"C'mon," I said encouragingly, holding out a hand. "Remember winning? Remember that first war you fought, how it felt to win?"

"I remember the war," Briares' face morphed, showing a furrowed brow and a pouting mouth. His brooding face, I guess. "Lightning shook the world. We threw many rocks. The Titans and the monsters almost won. Now they are getting strong again. Kampê said so."

"Don't listen to her," I said. "Strong? Seriously, my brother wiped out half their army last year with hellfire, I doubt they can revive so much of their strength so quickly."

"He what?" Grover butted in. "I thought your brother was also a son of Poseidon, where the heck can he summon hellfire from? That's a... Hades thing."

I shrugged. "So he told me." I didn't mention that Percy had also shown me during one of our training sessions, and how deathly the ball of flame felt just by being near it.

The Hundred Handed One still looked indecisive, so I decided to hurry him up with one simple and extremely dumb idea.

"One game of rock, paper, scissors," I said. "If I win, you come with us. If you win, you stay and rot and listen to more of Kampê's lies." I gave it to him straight, because even though this guy may be my senior and Tyson's idol, he clearly thought physical and mental torture was the way to go.

Grover stared at me like I was insane. "Atti...?"

Briares' face morphed to doubtful. "I always win rock, paper, scissors."

"Then let's do it!" I pounded my fist in my palm three times.

Briares did the same with all one hundred hands, which sounded like an army marching three steps forward. He came up with a whole avalanche of rocks, a classroom set of scissors, and enough paper to make a fleet of airplanes.

"I told you," he said sadly. "I always–" He paused, then stared at my hand in confusion. "What is that you made?"

"A gun," I told him, showing him my finger gun. It was a trick Percy had pulled on me, and it did feel kinda good to pull it on someone else. "A gun beats anything."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't supposed to be fair," I said simply. "Plus, Kampê won't give a shit about who broke the bars; she'll blame you straightaway. So unless you want to get your ass whooped, come with us."

Briares sniffled. "Demigods are cheaters." But he slowly rose to his feet and followed us out of the cell.

I started to feel hopeful, but remained cautious all the same. We'd been talking for too long, I could feel it. If Kampê was simply doing constant rounds, she should be close to us now.

Tyson froze. I stared down, grimacing at the accuracy of my hypothesis. On the ground floor below, Kampê was snarling at us.

"So..." I began, but Grover beat me to it.

"RUN!" The satyr yelled, bolting the opposite direction. This time, Briares was more than happy to oblige, sprinting out in front, a hundred arms waving in panic.

Behind us, I heard the sound of giant wings unfurling, signaling Kampê's takeoff. She hissed and growled in her ancient language, and I didn't need Tyson to translate to get the gist of what she was saying. We scrambled down the stairs, through a corridor, and past a guard's station, out into another block of prison cells.

"Where now?" Grover asked.

"Uh, left," I guessed. "Doesn't matter, let's move!"

We burst outside and found ourselves in the prison yard, ringed by security towers and barbed wire. After being underground for so long, the sunlight blinded me, causing me to see nothing but white glare for a few seconds. Tourists were milling around, taking pictures. The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. I wondered if Percy's secret mission involved anything with that mountain, given how our last quest took place there.

"Keep moving!" Briares shouted. "She is behind us!"

We ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cellblock as possible.

"Is she...?" Grover began, before he was interrupted by the wall exploding.

Tourists screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her wings spread wide. She was holding two swords: bronze scimitars that glowed with a toxic greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.

"Seriously?!" I nearly yelled. "How op is she?"

"Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those things touch you or..."

"Or you'll die?" I guessed.

"Well... after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes."

"So don't touch those swords," I said. "Simple enough."

"Briares, fight!" Tyson urged. "Grow to full size!"

Instead, Briares looked like he was trying to shrink even smaller. He appeared to be wearing his absolutely terrified face.

Kampê thundered towards us on her dragon legs, hundreds of snakes slithering around her body. I didn't need to say a word before we all turned as one, running for our lives. There was no fighting this thing. Sure, I could pull some tricks from training, but I was far from capable of defeating this powerful monster myself. Maybe stall for time, but that's about it.

We ran through the jail yard and out the gates of the prison, the monster right behind us. Mortals screamed and ran. I really don't want to know what they saw. Hopefully the Mist...

"Tyson, Grover." I snapped around, turning towards Kampê. "The fastest and only way to escape her is back in the maze."

"You're gonna fight her?" Grover asked, wide-eyed. "Atti, you can't be serious."

"We aren't going to escape on foot." I said. "And Kampê has wings too."

Grover swallowed. "Okay. Tyson, let's go!"

"Sister, are you sure?" Tyson asked.

I nodded, snapping hard in the air to concentrate the level of Mist in the area. "Yes!"

My friends turned and ran back to where we came from, while I stood and focused, gathering water from the air into two massive water construct fists, like Percy did back in the desert last year. It was the first time I was going to be doing this in real battle, and I was fully focused on not losing attention.

Kampê snarled as she slashed her swords indiscriminately, slicing large and long gashes deep into the concrete and and walls around her. I did my best to slow her down: punching her in the face, holding my two hands out to force her back, trading blows with her swords, and stopping her from taking flight by dragging her down by her feet or tail. Each time she attempted to dodge under my hands, I dematerialized them and reformed them in front of her, backing myself towards the entrance while pushing her back.

"Atti!" Grover yelled. "How do we open this thing?"

"What do you mean?!" I asked, throwing the monster several feet back with another blow.

"The door's disappeared!" Grover said.

"Find a blue triangle looking thing! It represents an opening to the Labyrinth!" I answered. "Shit! She's getting closer!"

"Got it!" Tyson slammed his palm against the wall, blue light escaping from between his fingers, coming from the Greek ∆ symbol on the wall. "Go, go, go!"

My friends rushed down the tunnel, Grover turning back to yell. "Atalanta! Doorway's open!"

I had begun sweating, the effort of keeping the two hands together getting exhausting. Kampê was just as I expected, strong and powerful. I put all my effort into one last blow, forcing my fist constructs together to create a massive brick wall, and shoved it at the monster, before dashing away blindly. I was close to passing out, even though I had trained with Percy and Zoe for hours during the break. I hadn't realized how much effort it actually was for Percy to maintain his constructs in battle, and what scared me was he could make a freaking dragon walk out of the river at camp like it was nothing!

I stumbled towards the door, grabbing Grover's arm, him hauling me in. We shut the door just in time, wincing at the loud pounding of Kampê against the wall, hissing and growling in fury.

"That... was close..." I muttered. "Grover, Tyson..." I was barely able to concentrate.

"Atti?" I heard Grover's voice dizzily, before I dropped to the floor, unconscious. For better or for worse, I was glad that at least, we had made it back into the maze.

§§§§§

When I came to, my friends and Briares had decided to stop in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one big pit, ringed by a slippery stone walkway. Around us, on all four walls, water tumbled from huge pipes. The water spilled down into the pit, and I raised a hand and summoned a sphere of water that I promptly dropped on my head.

"Ugh," I shook my head and propped myself up. "So... what now?"

Briares had slumped against the wall. He scooped up water in a dozen hands and washed his face. "This pit goes straight to Tartarus," he murmured. "I should jump in and save you trouble."

"Why do you keep saying things like that?" I asked. "We escaped! You can come back with camp with us, I'm sure Chiron would love to have you. You can help us prepare. You know more about fighting Titans than anybody."

"I have nothing to offer," Briares said. "I have lost everything."

"What about your brothers?" Tyson asked. "The other two must still stand as tall as mountains! We can take you to them."

Briares' expression morphed to something even more depressing: his grieving face. "They are no more. They faded."

The waterfalls thundered. Tyson stared into the pit and blinked tears out of his eye.

"What exactly do you mean, they faded?" I asked. "I thought monsters were immortal, like the gods."

"Atti," Grover said weakly. "even immortality has limits. Sometimes... sometimes monsters get forgotten and they lose their will to stay immortal."

Looking at Grover's face, I wondered if he was thinking of Pan. I remembered something Medusa told us once: how her sisters, the other two gorgons, had passed on and left her alone. Then last year, Apollo said something about the old god Helios disappearing and leaving him with the duties of the sun god. I'd never thought about it too much, but now, looking at Briares, I realized how terrible it would be to be so old – thousands and thousands of years old – and totally alone.

"I must go," Briares said.

"Kronos' army will invade camp," Tyson said. "We need help."

Briares hung his head. "I cannot, Cyclops."

"You are strong!"

"Not anymore." Briares rose. He looked back almost shamefully at us. Then he turned wordlessly, trudging down the corridor until he was lost in the shadows.

I sighed after he was completely gone. "At least he didn't jump into the pit."

Tyson sobbed, sneezing when Grover tried to comfort the cyclops. "He was my hero..."

I wanted to make him feel better, but I wasn't sure what to say. Instead, I stood and shouldered my pack. "Come on, let's find a better place to set up camp for the night."

We ended up settling in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it could've been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fastened to the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, but at this point, I couldn't tell, because the maze had shown us similar areas already that led to nowhere.

"Just rest now," I said. "I think we're gonna need it. We'll deal with everything in the morning."

"How do we know when it's morning?" Grover asked.

I shrugged. "Honestly, when you wake up, you can assume. Just rest."

Grover didn't need to be told twice. He pulled a heap of straw out of his pack, ate some of it, made a pillow out of the rest, and was snoring in no time. Tyson took longer to get to sleep. He tinkered with some metal scraps from his building kit for a while, but whatever he was making, he wasn't happy with it. He kept disassembling the pieces.

"Hey, how are you?" I asked my brother.

Tyson turned, his eye bloodshot from crying. "Do not worry about me."

"I'm sure Briares is just scared," I said. "I'm sure he'll get over it."

"He is not strong," Tyson said. "He is not important anymore." With that, he heaved a big sigh, and closed his eye, slumping onto the floor. The metal pieces fell out of his hands, still unassembled, and Tyson began to snore.

I tried to sleep, but I couldn't, having just woken up from being knocked out by using my own powers. I decided to call Percy out of boredom.

Like he had shown me in practice, I caused a spray of water to shoot out in midair, manipulating the molecules to follow the spray shape. I dug a drachma out from my pants and tossed the coin in. "Fleecy, do me a solid." I said, cause Percy always did, and it worked. The mist shimmered, then showed my brother's elated face, his eyes crazy with excitement. He looked to be up in the sky, staring down gleefully at what sounded like explosions and terrified screaming. For a moment, I didn't want to know what he was doing.

"Percy!" I yelled into the mist, gathering his attention instantly.

"Atti?" He said, surprised. "Hang on a second." He turned behind him, gesturing wildly. Then Percy turned back, moving fast until it seemed like he landed. "Hey Atti, how's the Labyrinth?"

I rolled my eyes. "Really? You're gonna ask me that? I mean so far, it hasn't been as bad as I imagined. I was able to fight against Kampê though."

Percy chuckled. "Of course you did. You used a bow or water constructs? Cause I know you're not stupid to charge with Riptide."

"Water constructs," I said proudly. "The big spiky fist ones that you used in the desert."

Percy whistled. "Damn, pretty good for a first try in real battle huh? How're you feeling afterwards?"

"I passed out," I admitted, not missing Percy's face turn serious. "Kampê is still a really powerful monster after all."

"She is, true." Percy said. "You'll get better with your ability control over time. It comes with experience really."

I nodded. "So... what have you and Zoe been up to?" I smirked knowingly.

Percy sighed. "You just care that much about our relationship, don't you?"

"Oh come on," I said. "When am I ever going to see an alternate universe traveller date the lieutenant of the Hunters ever again?"

Percy smiled. "Yah, that's a one in a million chance."

"So what're you doing?" I asked. "I saw you were in the air, and heard explosions."

Percy gave a sadistic smirk. "New training exercises for the campers. The whole camp versus my AIs. You know how it be."

"WHAT?!" I glared at Percy. "That's cruel! Your AIs are insanely skilled."

"Who said training was ever going to be easy?" Percy laughed. "Also, the campers prefer my AIs. You know what the other choice of training is?"

"Huh?"

"1v1 either me," Percy jabbed his thumb at his chest. His eyes glinted sharply as he spoke again, "Or Zoe."

I shuddered. If Percy let Zoe go all out, she was like a monster. That girl did not know what mercy was. "I would choose Zoe honestly."

"That's cause she treats you like a sister," Percy said. "On the first day, she knocked people out by kicking them in the crotch, chest, and back of the head. I had to threaten her bow privileges in order to get her to stop being so brutal."

I snickered. "How far have you and her gotten?"

Percy looked to the side, his blush a soft soft red on his face. "We've kissed, cuddled, and I've brought her places, that's pretty much it."

I squealed. "Awwww, that's so sweet of you."

Percy looked like he wanted to crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment. "Atti..."

"What?" I put my hands on my hips, mock-pouting. "I can't make fun of my big bro and his girlfriend?"

Percy facepalmed. "Look, I didn't say you couldn't." He turned, as if he were getting called. "Hey, I would love to talk more, but I gotta ref the rest of this exercise. Zoe is good, but she usually gets distracted by stupid campers doing stupid things."

"Okay," I said. "I'll call you again if I get bored."

"Sure, sure," Percy said, taking off into the air once more. "Love ya, Atti!" Then he cut the connection, leaving me back in the maze, silent except for the sound of my snoring friends.

I sat still for a moment, thinking about Percy and I's conversation. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep seconds later.

§§§§§

Of course, like anywhere else, I was plagued by dreams. Once again, I dreamed I was back in the old man's Labyrinth prison.

It looked more like a workshop now. Tables were littered with measuring instruments. A forge burned red-hot in the corner. The boy I'd seen in the last dream was stoking the bellows, except he was taller now, almost my age. A weird funnel device was attached to the forge's chimney, trapping the smoke and heat and channeling it through a pipe in the floor, next to a big bronze manhole cover.

It was daytime. The sky above was blue, but the wall of the maze cast deep shadows across the workshop. After being in tunnels so long, I found it weird that part of the Labyrinth opened up to the sky. Somehow, it made the maze seem even crueler.

The old man looked sickly. He was terribly thin, his hands raw and red from working. White hair covered his eyes, and his tunic was smudged with grease. He was bent over a table, working on some kind of long metal patchwork, like a swath of chain mail. He picked up a delicate curl of bronze and fitted it into place.

"Done," he announced. "It's done."

He picked up his project. It was so beautiful, my heart leaped. Metal wings constructed from thousands of interlocking bronze feathers, something only a genius born inventor could think of ever creating. There were two sets. One still lay on the table. Daedalus stretched the frame, and the wings expanded to twenty feet. Part of me knew it could never fly. It was too heavy, and there'd be no way to get off the ground. But the craftsmanship was amazing. Metal feathers caught the light and flashed thirty different shades of gold. I didn't even know my eyes could see that much.

The boy left the bellows and ran over to see. He grinned, despite the fact that he was grimy and sweaty. "Father, you're a genius!"

The old man smiled. "Tell me something I don't know, Icarus. Now hurry. It will take at least an hour to attach them. C'mon."

"You first," Icarus insisted. "You made them, so you should get the honor of wearing them first."

The boy attached a leather harness to his father's chest, like climbing gear, with straps that ran from his shoulders to his wrists. Then he began fastening the wings, using a metal canister that looked like an enormous hot glue gun.

"The wax compound should hold for several hours," Daedalus said nervously as his son worked. "But we must let it set first. And we would do well to avoid flying too high or too low. The sea would wet the wax seals–"

"And the sun's heat would loosen them," the boy finished. "Yes, Father, we've been through this a million times."

"One cannot be too careful."

"I have complete faith in your inventions, Father. No one has ever been as smart as you!"

The old man's eyes shone. It was obvious that he loved his son more than anything in the world. "Now hurry, I will do your wings!"

It was slow going, the old man's age finally catching up to him. His hands fumbled with the straps. He had a hard time keeping the wings in position while he sealed them. His own metal wings weighed him down, slowing his movements even more.

"Too slow," the old man muttered. "I am too slow."

"Take your time, Father." the boy said. "The guards aren't due until–"

BOOM!

The workshop doors shuddered. Daedalus had barred them from the inside with a wooden brace, but they still shook on their hinges.

"Hurry!" Icarus said.

BOOM! BOOM!

Something heavy was slamming into the doors, most likely a battering ram of some sort. The brace held, but a crack appeared on the left door.

Daedalus worked furiously. A drop of hot wax spilled onto Icarus' shoulder, the boy wincing but not crying out. When the left wing was finally sealed, the old man moved to the right.

"We must have more time," Daedalus murmured. "It's too early. The seal needs to hold!"

"It'll be fine," Icarus said, as his father finished the wing. "Help me with the manhole–"

CRASH! The doors splintered and the head of a bronze battering ram emerged through the breach. Axes cleared the debris, and two armed guards entered the room, followed by the king with the golden crown and spear-shaped beard.

"Well, well," the king said in a cruel smile. "Going somewhere?"

Daedalus and his son froze, their wings glimmering on their backs. "We're leaving, Minos," the old man said.

King Minos chuckled. "I was curious to see how far you'd get on this little project before I dashed your hopes. I must say, I'm impressed." The king admired the wings. "You look like metal chickens," he decided. "Perhaps before I execute you, I'll pluck you and make a soup."

The guards laughed stupidly. "Metal chickens," one repeated. "Soup."

"Shut up," the king said. Then he turned to Daedalus. "You let my daughter escape, old man. You drove my wife to madness. You killed my monster and made me the laughingstock of the Mediterranean. You will never escape me!"

Icarus grabbed the wax gun and sprayed it at the king, who stepped back in surprise. The guards rushed forward, only to receive the same treatment, but on their faces, causing them to scream in pain.

"The vent!" Icarus yelled to his father.

"Get them!" Minos raged.

Together, the old man and his son pried open the manhole cover, and a column of hot air blasted out of the ground. The king watched, incredulous, as the inventor and son shot into the sky on their bronze wings, carried by the updraft.

"Shoot them!" Minos yelled, but the guards had no bows. One drew his sword in desperation, but Daedalus and Icarus were already far out of his reach. They wheeled above the maze and the king's palace, then zoomed across the city of Knossos and out past the rocky shores of Crete.

Icarus laughed. "Free, Father! You did it!"

The boy spread his wings to their full limit and soared away on the wind. I swallowed in my dream, already knowing what was going to happen.

"Wait!" Daedalus called. "Be careful!"

But Icarus was already out over the open sea, heading north and delighting in their good luck. He soared up and scared an eagle out of its flight path, then plummeted toward the sea like he was born to fly, pulling out of a nosedive at the last second. He could give Harry Potter on a broom a run for his money.

"Stop that!" Daedalus called again. But the wind carried his voice away. His son was drunk on freedom.

They were miles from Crete, over deep sea, when Icarus looked back and saw his father's worried expression.

Icarus smiled. "Don't worry, Father! You're a genius. I trust your handiwork–"

The first metal feather shook loose from his wings and fluttered away. Then another. Icarus wobbled in midair. Suddenly, he was shedding bronze feathers, which twirled away from him like a flock of frightened birds.

"ICARUS!" Daedalus cried. "Glide! Extend the wings, stay as still as possible!"

But Icarus flapped his arms, attempting to reassert control.

The left wing went first – ripping away from the straps.

"Father!" Icarus cried. And then he fell, gravity taking over as his right wing ripped away, leaving the boy left in nothing but a climbing harness and a white tunic as he fell through the air like a stone.

I woke with a start, eyes wide, feeling like I was falling. The corridor was dark. In the constant moaning of the Labyrinth, I thought I could hear the anguished cry of Daedalus calling his son's name, as Icarus, his only joy, plummeted toward the sea, three hundred feet below, similar to falling onto concrete.

In other words, instant death.

I knew my dreams wanted to tell me something about Daedalus, maybe give a warning about the person he may be like when we find him. But I didn't know for sure.

§§§§§

There was no definite morning in the maze, but once everyone woke up, we had a fabulous breakfast consisting of granola bars and juice boxes before we kept traveling. The old stone tunnels changed to dirt with cedar beams, like a gold mine or something. We continued forward, until we began to see light ahead. A few more steps, and we were staring at daylight streaming through a set of bars above my head. We were under a steel grate made out of metal pipes. I could see trees and blue sky.

"What the heck?" I said. "It is morning."

Then, a shadow fell across the grate and a cow stared down at me. It looked normal, except for the fact that it was bright red, like a cherry. I didn't know cows came in that color.

The cow mooed, put one hoof tentatively on the bars, then backed away.

"It's a cattle guard," Grover said.

"A what?" I asked.

"They put them at the gates of ranches so cows can't get out. They can't walk on them."

"And you know this because..."

Grover huffed indignantly. "Believe me, if you had hooves, you'd know about cattle guards. They're annoying!"

I chuckled. "I didn't know you were someone who snuck onto farms for some hay."

Grover laughed dryly. "Haha, very funny."

"Anyways, didn't Hera say something about passing through a ranch?" I said. "This looks... and smells like a farm. The only problem is, how do we get through this gate?"

Tyson solved that problem by hitting the cattle guard with both hands. It popped off and went flying out of sight. We heard a CLANG and a startle Moo! Tyson blushed. "Whoops. Sorry cow!" Then, he gave Grover and I a boost out of the tunnel.

We were on a ranch, all right. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted with oak trees and cactuses and boulders. A barbed wire fence ran from the gate in either direction. Cherry colored cows roamed around, grazing on clumps of grass.

"Red cattle," Grover observed. "The cattle of the sun, most likely."

"Like, Apollo's cows?" I asked.

Grover nodded. "Cows sacred to him."

"So, if Nintendo reskinned the cows in MooMoo Meadows to red, it'd be sponsored by Apollo or something?" I asked dumbly.

Grover looked at me with his are-you-serious face. "Atti."

"Sorry, sorry." I said.

Grover turned his head away. "Wait, something's coming."

At first, everything seemed quiet... but then I heard it: the distant baying of dogs. The sound got louder. Then the underbrush rustled, and two dog heads belonging to one dog body broke through. It looked like a greyhound, long and snaky and sleek brown, but its neck V'd into two heads, both of them snapping and snarling and generally not very glad to see us.

"Bad Janus dog!" Tyson cried.

"Arf!" Grover told it, and raised a hand in greeting.

The two-headed dog bared its teeth. I guess it wasn't impressed that Grover could speak animal. Then its master lumbered out of the woods, and I realized the dog was the least of our problems.

He was a huge guy with stark white hair, a straw cowboy hat, and a braided white beard – kind of like Father Time, if Father Time went redneck and got totally jacked. He was wearing jeans, a DON'T MESS WITH TEXAS T-shirt, and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off so you could see his bulging muscles. On his right bicep was a crossed-swords tattoo. He held a wooden club about the size of a nuclear warhead, with six-inch spikes bristling out the business end.

"Heel, Orthus." he told the dog.

The dog growled at us once more, just to make his feelings clear, then circled back to his master's feet. The man looked us up and down, keeping his club ready. I myself wrapped a sphere of water around my fist that I hid behind me, in case things got ugly.

"What've we got here?" The man asked. "Cattle rustlers?"

"We're travelers," I said neutrally. "On a quest."

The man's eyes twitched. "Half-bloods, eh?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Sure."

The man glared back. "I know half-bloods because I am one, lass. I'm Eurytion, the cowherd for this ranch here. Son of Ares. And you?"

"Daughter of Poseidon," I said. "Grover's a satyr, and Tyson is a Cyclops."

The cowherd glanced behind him like someone was watching. Then he lowered his voice. "I'm only going to say this once, demigods. Get back in the maze now. Before it's too late."

I didn't ask why, and instead said, "Well, we could, but we kinda have to pass through the ranch so..."

Eurytion grunted. "Have it your way. Then you leave me with no choice, lass. I've got to take you to see the boss."

We walked down a dirt path that seemed to go on forever, which felt even longer under the baking rays of the sun. It felt close to at least a hundred degrees or so, heat visibly shimmering off the ground like hot oil in a pan. Insects buzzed in the trees, flies swarming us every now and then. We'd maybe walked only a few yards before I began sweating my ass off. Every so often we'd also see a pen full of exotic cows or animals. I thought red cows were going to be the strangest thing on the farm, but I also saw a herd of fire-breathing horses (yes, you read correctly). Fire breathing mustangs. Pretty cool if you ask me.

"What are those horses for?" I asked. "Surely you don't just breed flamethrowing machines just for meat right?"

Eurytion scowled. "We raise animals for lots of clients. Apollo, Diomedes, and... others."

I was about to ask who exactly he meant by others, but kept my mouth shut. I didn't need to pick from many choices of who might want a couple living flamethrowers in their army... cough Luke cough.

Finally, we came out of the woods. Perched on a hill above us was a big ranch house – all white stone and wood and big windows. Like a southern style plantation house, like the ones we learned in history class.

"Don't break the rules," Eurytion warned as we approached the front porch, "No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don't make any comments about the boss' appearance."

I nodded, but kept an orb of water on hand once more, hidden out of sight. Just, walking into a potentially dangerous area weaponless didn't seem wise.

"Welcome to Triple G Ranch," a new voice said. It belonged to a man on the porch who had a normal head, which was a relief. His face was weathered and brown from years in the sun. He had slick black hair and a black pencil moustache like villains have in old movies. He smiled at us, but it wasn't a friendly smile, more like a ooo-more-people-to-torture smile.

I didn't ponder on that thought for very long though, because then I noticed his body... and why Eurytion warned us beforehand. He, the new man, had three of them. Three bodies. Like, his neck was connected to the middle chest like normal, but he had two more chests, one on either side, connected at the shoulders, with a few inches in between. His left arm grew out of his left chest, and the same on the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits, if that makes any sense. The chests all connected into one enormous torso, with two regular but very beefy legs, and he wore the most oversized pair of Levis I'd ever seen. His chests each wore a different colored shirt; I dunno how exactly he got them on, but they somehow fit, red, yellow, and green like a traffic light.

The cowherd Eurytion nudged me. "Say hello to Mr. Geryon."

I raised an eyebrow. "Sup," I waved neutrally in greeting.

"Atalanta Jackson," Geryon identified me immediately, making me raise my guard mentally. "And a couple of her monster friends."

"Monster friends?" Grover said indignantly.

"Geryon huh?" I said. "I don't think we've met before, sir."

"I make it my business to know whoever comes on my ranch before they come on my ranch, darlin'," the man said cheerfully. "I'm sure you'll feel a bit more at home after getting to know the ranch a bit. Come now, let me bring you on a tour of the place."

I glanced back at my friends, Grover shrugging but also giving me a warning glance. Good, we both knew that Geryon was suspicious. I turned back to Geryon. "Sure, why not. Let's see your ranch."

Turns out, Geryon had this trolley thing, like one of those kiddie trains that take you around zoos. It was painted black and white in a cowhide pattern. The driver's car had a set of longhorns stuck to the hood, and the horn sounded like a cowbell. I figured maybe this is how he tortured people. He embarrassed them to death riding around in his moo-mobile.

Eurytion sat in the back, most likely to watch us and make sure we didn't break out into any funny business. The cowherd sat down and pulled his hat over his eyes like he was going to take a nap. Orthus jumped in the front seat next to Geryon and began barking happily in two-part harmony. My friends and I took the center carts.

"We have a huge operation!" Geryon boasted as the moo-mobile lurched forward. "Horses and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too."

I looked around and saw what he meant by "exotic." A dozen of the weirdest animals I'd ever seen were at the bottom of the hill in a fenced-in pasture. And I had seen plenty of weird already. Each animal had the front half of a horse and the back half of a rooster, with huge yellow claws as rear feet. They had feathery tails and red wings. As I watched, two of them got into a fight over a pile of seed. They reared up on their back legs and whinnied and flapped their wings at each other until the smaller one galloped away, its rear bird legs putting a little hop in its step.

"What the heck are those?" I asked Geryon.

"Hippalektryons!" Geryon replied.

"That just... rolls off the tongue?" I facepalmed in amazement. "Wow."

"It's easy to say after you've owned them for years," Geryon said dismissively.

"Rooster ponies," Tyson said in equal awe. "Do they lay eggs?"

"Once a year," Geryon grinned. "Very much in demand for omelettes!"

"That's horrible!" Grover gasped. "They must be an endangered species!"

Geryon waved his hand. "Gold is gold, plus it's not like I'm killing the fully grown ones. And you haven't tasted the omelettes."

Part of me knew then that something was very wrong with this guy. As far as mythological creatures go, this is the first time seeing the Hipp... ah, screw it! Rooster ponies, let's go with what Tyson said. And if this guy is cooking their annual offspring as omelettes, something definitely wasn't right.

"Now, over there," Geryon continued. "we have our fire-breathing horses, which you may have seen on your way in. They're bred for war naturally."

"What war?" I asked.

Geryon grinned slyly, answering my question, "Oh, whichever one comes along. And over yonder, of course, our prize red cows."

"So many," Grover observed the hundreds of cows we passed.

"Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see to them," Geryon explained. "so he subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously because there's such a demand."

"Demand?" I asked.

Geryon raised an eyebrow. "Meat, of course! Armies have to eat!"

"You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat?!" Grover nearly leapt out of his seat in fury. "That's against the ancient laws!"

"Oh, don't get so worked up, satyr. They're just animals."

"Just animals!"

"Yes, and if Apollo cared, I'm sure he'd realize cause he cared, but he doesn't." Geryon said. I couldn't help but agree. Apollo was cool, but like a flashy teen, he tended to forget things that might be sacred to him. Like, I don't think he would ever notice the cows, not with his chariot given the ability to turn into a decked out Maserati.

The next field was ringed in barbed wire. The whole area was crawling with giant scorpions.

"Triple G Ranch," I said, suddenly remembering. "Your mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from you." That meant two things. Quintus had something to do with the maze, and he knew how to navigate it. I doubt that one could just find the location of this ranch randomly, as it was ought to be protected by the Mist, given its "exotic" varieties.

"Quintus..." Geryon mused. "Short gray hair, muscular, swordsman?"

"Yes."

"Never heard of him," Geryon said. "Now over here, are my prized stables. You must see them!"

I didn't need to see them, because as soon as we got within three hundred yards, I started to smell them. Near the banks of a green river was a horse corral the size of a football field. Stables lined one side of it. About a hundred horses were milling around in the muck, and by muck, I meant shitloads of horse shit. It was the most disgusting thing I've seen in a long time, like a blizzard made of poop had come through and dumped four feet of the stuff overnight. The horses were really gross from wading through it, and the stables were just as bad. Like a giant had explosive wet diarrhea after Taco Tuesday, just, all over the stables. It was putrid. It reeked like you would not believe – worse than the garbage barges on the East River, and believe me, in New York, you sniff some pretty disgusting things from there.

Nobody could hold back their gags. Tyson's face of disgust was almost horrifying, and Grover had paled to an extreme degree, in both shock and disgust.

"My stables!" Geryon said proudly. "Well, actually they belong to Aegeas, but we watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren't they lovely?"

"Fuck," I cursed, pinching my shirt over my nose. The boiling heat of the air was making the stench hundreds of times worse, like shit was trying to worm its way up my nostrils. "This is utterly disgusting."

"Lots of poop," Tyson deadpanned.

"How can you keep animals like that?" Grover managed to say.

"Y'all gettin' on my nerves," Geryon said. "These are flesh-eating horses see? They like these conditions."

"Ah yes," I said, rolling my eyes. "Because those two things have anything to do with each other."

"He's just too cheap to have them cleaned," Eurytion mumbled from beneath his hat.

"Quiet!" Geryon snapped. "All right, perhaps the stables are a bit challenging to clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind blows the wrong way. But so what? My clients pay me well."

"Cut it with the horseshit," I said, pun intended, as disgusting as it was. "You work for Kronos don't you? I'm not stupid. All this upcoming war you subtlely mentioned, meat to feed armies when there is only one enemy on the horizon, and flesh-eating horses? If the army doing so is not us, then it's Kronos."

"Smart one, darlin'," Geryon said, then shrugged. "I work for anyone with gold, young lady. I'm a businessman. And I sell them anything I have to offer."

He climbed out of the moo-mobile and strolled towards the stables as if enjoying the fresh air. It would've been a nice view, with the river and the trees and hills and all, except for the quagmire of horse muck. Then he turned back.

"And that means, I'm about to get another haul of gold," Geryon said, eyeing me dangerously. "Luke Castellan is offering quite a good sum for half-bloods, especially powerful half-bloods, and you qualify perfectly. An archnemesis of Luke's, and maybe his next bed mate, what do you say, Atalanta?"

I realized what he was saying and narrowed my eyes. "Fuck off. And for your information, Luke isn't so dangerous of an enemy as he is delusional. If you want to capture me and my friends, you're going to have to try harder."

"Really?" Geryon said, right as a shadow leaned over our backs.

"Really." I smirked, wrapping my friends in a spherical shield of water and launching us out of the cart, surprising both Eurytion and Geryon. "Oh, did your allies not tell you how powerful I am?"

Geryon narrowed his eyes, then drew two swords from nowhere. Eurytion hefted his club, though he did it half-heartedly.

I cracked my knuckles as I took the shield off, and drew Riptide. I hadn't had a proper swordfight in a while, and it felt wasteful to only use water constructs when Percy taught me some nice tricks I could use with my blade. I figured that I didn't have to worry too much about Eurytion, who seemed to watching Geryon's movements with barely a care. I was about to attack when Eurytion spoke.

"Hey boss," He said. "I'm thinking this kids are right."

"What?" Geryon turned on the cowherd. "What bullcrap are you saying?"

Eurytion raised his head, his expression serious. He eyed me occasionally, like he was giving me permission. "I've been doing your dirty work for most of my life. Helping the Titans, that's too far. You pick fights for no reason, and I'm tired of dying for you. So if you want to kill that kid, leave me out of it."

It was the most un-Areslike thing I've ever heard... from a son of Ares.

"So you're going on strike?" Geryon steamed like the hot air. "Then I'll deal with you first, traitor!" Except, instead of attacking Eurytion, the three-chested man attempted to strike Orthus, who had been growling at him since Eurytion stood up to Geryon.

"No!" I yelled, throwing a water shield around Orthus, protecting the dog and causing Geryon's blades to bounce off. "Your opponent is me!" I snapped, the shield bubble lifting Orthus away so that I now stood in front of Geryon, who looked annoyed and pissed.

"They didn't say you were this powerful," Geryon sneered. "Is it all lies? Am I surrounded by liars?"

"Whoever told you," I said, lifting up Riptide and charging up a water orb in my left hand. "That info is outdated. I've got loads of surprises in store for you now." I jumped forward, parrying aside his slashes and shooting a spray of poop smelling water at Geryon's face, throwing him into an angry fit that distracted him just enough for me to stab him in the stomach with Riptide.

"Aghhh!" He crumpled to his knees. I waited for him to disintegrate, the way monsters usually do, but instead he just grimaced and stood back up. I backed away using a spout of water to propel me, just in time to avoid him swiping his sword at me. When I looked at him again, it was like I never attacked him.

"Nice try, young lady," Geryon said with a smirk. "Thing is, I have three hearts. Perfect backup system."

I attacked him again, jabbing him and sticking my sword in him every which way, but he just laughed it off. Even with the fastest strokes, Geryon wouldn't die, his hearts replenishing as soon as I withdrew my blade. I jumped back, sweating buckets from the heat and action.

"You see now? How foolish you are to fight me." Geryon gloated. "I'm invincible!"

"Oh yah?" I wiped a chunk of sweat off my forehead. "What if I hit all three hearts at once?"

Geryon stopped laughing for a moment, then grinned wretchedly. "How? Even if you could, they told me you couldn't."

I inhaled and capped Riptide, putting the pen-sword in my pocket. I put my hands up like I was shooting a bow, like I was aiming an arrow at Geryon's bodies. The man recognized my posture and laughed.

"What're you going to do, shoot me with air?" The man laughed harder. "You're stupider than I thought!"

I ignored his taunts and focused. Forming the bow and arrow wasn't the hard part, it was shooting it that I had the most trouble with.

During training practices in the summer, Percy had made sure Zoe and I were well versed in our weaknesses. For her, it was swordfighting. For me, it was shooting. He had first taught me how to "cheat" when shooting a normal bow. Since we were naturally bad at bows, Percy taught me how to use water molecules in the air to guide the arrow towards the intended target, like a remote-controlled projectile. Doing so required a ton of concentration, on my part mostly because it was an entirely new technique, and thus took a lot of time that I wouldn't get in battle. So Percy taught me something else, which was firing a water construct bow. It's exactly what it sounds like: a bow materialized out of water, with infinitely created arrows also made of water. The arrow was easier to control because I would be used to its medium for longer, since I created the arrow. This led to easier mental control, and eventually, after long hours of practice shooting trees in a forest, I began to feel a natural connection to my bow, until I was shooting fluidly and hitting my targets 95% of the time. That being said, I'm no Zoe, who can shoot the exact same spot 20 times with her eyes closed, but she's fucking broken with a bow, and has had 2 thousand years of practice, so it makes sense.

Back to Geryon, he was still smiling, like he expected me to give up and cry for mercy. As soon as I materialized a fully pulled-back and nocked bow in my hand, his smile cracked.

"I-Impossible!" Geryon stepped back, swords up. "How...?" He narrowed his eyes. "It's all for show! It's all–" He charged, raising his swords in the air as he launched his body at my way. "–a show! You can't shoot to save your life!"

I closed my eyes then opened them. I dodged to the side and shot from Geryon's right stomach, rolling back onto my feet with an empty bow to my side.

THUNK, THUNK, THUNK

I felt my arrow pierce three targets and exit out the other side of his body, embedding itself on the head of a fencepost, before evaporating into the air.

"How's that for I-can't-shoot-to-save-my-life?" I said, turning around to the dying man.

Geryon winced, his face turning a sickly shade of green. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't, collapsing onto knees that disintegrated moments later, followed by the rest of his body turning into sand. All that was left were three massive T-shirts and an oversized pair of cowboy boots.

"Damn," Eurytion said after a moment of appreciable silence. "You're seriously powerful."

"That was amazing, sister!" Tyson cheered. "How did you make those?"

I chuckled, dematerializing my bow. "A lot of practice. It's just out of water from the air."

"Never seen a kid of Poseidon with that degree of water control," Eurytion said. "You figure it out yourself?"

I shook my head. "No, no, it was my brother who did. He taught me then." I looked at the remains of Geryon. Quite a pathetic opponent, when you look at it closely. "So Eurytion, how long will it take for Geryon to reform?"

Eurytion shrugged. "Hundred years? He's not one of those fast reformers, thank the gods. You've done me a favor."

"You said you'd died for him before," I remembered. "How?"

"Like I said, I've worked for that creep for a long-ass time, maybe a couple thousand years or so. Started as a regular half-blood, but I chose immortality when my dad offered it. In an unfortunate order of circumstances, immortality gets me stuck at this ranch, unable to leave or quit. I just tend to the animals and fight Geryon's fights. We're kinda tied together."

"Well you can change things now," I said. "Take care of the animals, instead of selling them as army supplies. Stop dealing with the Titans. Own the ranch, make it yours."

"That'd be all right." Eurytion nodded. "Except, I'm not quite sure how to deal with all... this." He gestured behind him. I had been so concentrated on my fight with Geryon that I forgot we were still in front of the horse stables of shit.

"Uh... I'll deal with it." I said.

Eurytion raised an eyebrow. "You already did me a big favor kid, are you sure?"

I waved my hand. "It's just a power wash for the horses. That involves a ton of water, so I'll do it. Though, could you drive my friends back to the house? They're dying out here." I gestured to Grover and Tyson, who both looked like their stomachs were about to leave their bodies through their mouths.

"Sure," Eurytion said. "Hey, if you can't wash them all the way, it's fine. I'll use the gold Geryon has to pay off the cleaning fees." He got into the driver's seat, waited for Grover and Tyson to get on, and drove away, leaving me with the poop stables.

To be honest, I dunno why I volunteered because I was dead tired, but I had already committed, so might as well finish.

I headed towards the river, because I would need a huge amount of water to power wash the damn stable. I was about to start sucking water up when I found a girl waiting on the riverbank. She was wearing jeans and a green T-shirt and her long brown hair was braided with grass. She had a stern look on her face. Her arms were crossed.

"Oh no you don't," she said.

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Don't you even think about it." The girl said defiantly. She looked scared, despite her fierce demeanor.

"Are you a naiad?" I asked. Usually they were just giggling and waving from the bottom of rivers, and this girl looked nothing like that type, so I wasn't sure.

"Duh!" She said, rolling her eyes.

"So... you guys can actually come out and speak English and stuff?" I said. Look, I'm kinda tired right now alright? I wasn't thinking at my best.

"What, you don't think we can act human if we want to?"

"Sorry," I apologized. "Anyways, I'm just going to borrow a bit of–!"

"NO!" The naiad said. "I know what you're going to do. You're going to take my river water and use it to clean those filthy stables. The last time someone did that, they didn't even bother to remove the dirty muck from the water before tossing it back in. My fish died, and my plants stayed polluted for years. I'll be sick till who knows when. NO THANK YOU!"

I widened my eyes, then nodded in understanding. "I get it, I really do. I'm still going to use your river, but I'll return the water to you untainted."

"Since when could you do that?" The naiad asked suspiciously. "No child of the sea god is capable of such a dextrous feat."

"You just watch," I said confidently. "If I fail, then you get to hit me in the face."

The naiad huffed. "That's not exactly to most rewarding thing I can think of if you fail."

"Just, let me show you," I said, extracting just enough water to make a miniature hurricane. For some reason, making hurricanes took less energy than fighting with water construct weapons. Probably because a hurricane had no real form to maintain.

I approached the stables, ignoring the horses calling me seafood through my mind. Someone had just come feed these guys, and now they were tearing at huge bloody slabs of meat, which somehow made the stables more disgusting than they already were.

"Shit!" I gagged. "God, how can anyone survive these?" I shook my head and thrust my hands forward, churning the water that I had taken from the river with power, forming a whirling cyclone that began to take down all the mountains of poop, as well as scour the sides of the horses clean, much to their surprise. The hurricane whirled in the middle of the Texas ranch, super washing every bit of brown until the place was sparkling clean, with my hurricane now brown instead of blue.

"So what now?" The naiad behind me asked.

"Now this!" I slammed the hurricane onto the ground, smashing ten thousand tons of shit into the earth. I dunno exactly what happened either, but the poop dissolved the moment water and earth met. When the hurricane turned blue again, I lifted it up and drained the rest of the muck out of the water, purifying it with my abilities before throwing it back to the river, approved by the naiad, who smiled at me after I kept my promise.

"See, like nothing ever happened." I assured the naiad.

"You are different from the others," she said. "Thanks for not hurting my home." She dissolved into liquid, returning to the river.

I smiled. "This place has been treated badly for a long time. It's time that someone do something about it." Then, I turned and ran full sprint back to the house. I was starving.

§§§§§

I smelled barbecue before I reached the house, which made my mouth water uncontrollably. When I got close, I could see Grover already chewing on a tin can, and Tyson eating a peanut butter sandwich, most likely made by Eurytion from somewhere. I joined the cowherd in eating the barbecued hamburgers, eating two large ones paired with some lemon sodas before I sat back, full.

Eurytion let us use the house, whatever we needed or wanted to use to sleep on or do, we could use. Grover and I crashed on one of the leather couches in Geryon's living room, while Cyclops hit the other, snoring his head off almost instantly. The couches were a lot more comfortable than a bedroll in the maze, yet didn't provide any armor against dreams that came my way.

This time, I seemed to be dreaming of a present moment. I dreamed I was with Luke, walking through the dark palace atop of Mount Tam. It was a real building now – not some half-finished illusion like I'd seen last winter. Green fires burned in braziers along the walls. The floor was polished black marble. A cold wind blew down the hallway, and above us through the open ceiling, the sky swirled with gray storm clouds.

Luke was dressed for battle. He was wearing camouflage pants, a white T-shirt, and a bronze breastplate, but his sword, Backbiter, wasn't at his side – only an empty scabbard. We walked into a large courtyard where dozens of warriors and dracaenae were preparing for war. When they saw Luke, the demigods rose to attention. They beat their swords against their shields.

"Isss it time, my lord?" a dracaena asked.

"Soon," Luke promised. "Continue your work."

"My lord," a familiar voice behind him said. Kelli the empousa was smiling at him. She wore a blue dress tonight, and looked wickedly beautiful. Her eyes flickered, sometimes dark brown, sometimes pure red. Her hair was braided down her back and seemed to catch the light of the torches, as if it were anxious to turn back into pure flame.

My heart was pounding. I waited for Kelli to see me, to chase me out of the dream as she did before, but this time she didn't seem to notice me.

"You have a visitor," she told Luke. She stepped aside, and even Luke seemed stunned by what he saw.

Somehow, Kampê had found her way to Luke. Her snakes hissed around her legs as she towered over him. Animal heads growled at her waist. Her swords were drawn, shimmering with poison, and with her bat wings extended, she took up the whole corridor.

"You." Luke's voice sounded shaky. I couldn't blame him for sounding scared. Kampê was downright terrifying. "I told you to stay on Alcatraz."

Kampê's eyelids blinked sideways like a reptile's. She spoke in the weird rumbling language, but this time I could understand her, somewhere in the back of my mind: I come to serve. Give me revenge.

"You're a jailor," Luke said. "Your job–"

The demigods escaped with the prisoner. I will have them dead. No one... escapes me.

Luke hesitated. A line of sweat trickled down the side of his face. "Very well." He said. "You will go with us. You may carry Ariadne's string. It is a position of great honor."

Kampê hissed at the stars. She sheathed her swords and turned, pounding down the hallway on her enormous dragon legs.

"Ugh," Luke shuddered visibly. "We should have left that one in Tartarus. She is too chaotic, too powerful."

Kelli laughed softly. "You should not fear power, Luke. You'll need it against the mysterious hero too, should he show up."

"Yes, him," Luke muttered. "I've never seen that warrior with that type of armor before, nor have I seen his face. He looks like Atalanta's sibling."

"A mercenary perhaps?" Kelli suggested.

"Where would he have gotten that gear?" Luke said. "He wielded flames and water simultaneously, and danced on Atlas' ruined body in battle. I also wake up from my fall only to find most of my army vaporized by him alone. Who is he?"

"Our spies have simply reported that he's from an alternate universe," Kelli said. "They haven't been able to find out more."

"Well, we need to know." Luke cursed. "I can only hope Kampê is enough. The sooner we leave, the better. Scouts have sighted the warrior on the west coast, and I prefer to not lose my army again."

"Of course." Kelli said. "Our strike force is sufficient then? Or will I need to call Mother Hecate for help?"

"We have more than enough," Luke said grimly. "The deal is almost complete. All I need now is to negotiate safe passage through the arena."

"Mmmm," Kelli said. "That should be interesting. I would hate to see your handsome head on a spike if you fail."

"I will not fail. And you, demon, don't you have other matters to attend to?"

"Oh yes," Kelli smiled. "I am bringing despair to our eavesdropping enemies. I am doing that right now." She turned her eyes directly on me, exposed her talons, and ripped through my dream. As I floated through momentary blackness, I thought of two things: one) somehow Luke had regained a strong number of his forces, and two) he was searching for information about Percy. Percy probably wouldn't care much to be honest, and most likely might even know who all the spies are. It's about time though, that someone on the enemy side take notice of Percy's abilities.

My dream changed, so that I was standing at the top of a stone tower, overlooking rocky cliffs and the ocean below. The old man Daedalus was hunched over a worktable, wrestling with some kind of navigational instrument, like a huge compass. He looked years older than I last saw him, more decrepit, more depressing. He was stooped and his hands were gnarled. He cursed in Ancient Greek and squinted as if he couldn't see his work, even though it was a sunny day.

"Uncle!" a voice called.

A smiling boy maybe two three years younger than me came bounding up the steps, carrying a wooden box.

"Hello, Perdix," the old man said, though his tone was cold, nothing like how he had talked to Icarus from before. "Done with your projects already?"

"Yes, Uncle! They were easy!"

Daedalus scowled. "Easy? The problem of moving water uphill without a pump was easy?"

"Oh, yes. Look!"

The boy dumped his box and rummaged through the junk. He came up with a strip of papyrus and showed the old inventor some diagrams and notes that made no sense to me whatsoever. Daedalus could understand just fine though. "I see, not bad." The old man said grudgingly.

"The king loved it!" Perdix said. "He said I might be even smarter than you!"

"Did he now?"

"But I don't believe that. I'm so glad Mother sent me to study with you! I want to know everything you do."

"Yes," Daedalus muttered. "So when I die, you can take my place, eh?"

The boy's eyes widened. "Oh no, Uncle! But I've been thinking... why does a man have to die, anyways?"

The inventor scowled. "Because it's the way of life. Unless you're immortal like the gods, you die."

"But why?" The boy insisted. "If you could capture the animus, the soul in another form... Well, you've told me about your automatons, Uncle. Bulls, eagles, dragons, horses of bronze. Why not a bronze form for a man?"

"No, my boy," Daedalus said sharply. "You are naïve. Such a thing is impossible."

"I don't think so," Perdix insisted. "With the use of a little magic–"

"Magic? Bah!"

"Yes, Uncle! Magic and mechanics together, with a little work, one could make a body that would look exactly human, only better. I've made some notes."

He handed the old man a thick scroll. Daedalus unfurled it. He read it for a long time. His eyes narrowed. He glanced at the boy, then closed the scroll and cleared his throat. "It would never work, my boy. When you're older, you'll see."

The boy didn't seem to be put down in any way. "Can I fix that astrolabe, then, Uncle? Are your joints swelling up again?"

The old man's jaw clenched. "No. Thank you. Now why don't you run along?"

The boy didn't seem to notice the old man's anger. He snatched a bronze beetle from his mound of stuff and ran to the edge of the tower. A low sill ringed the rim, coming just up to the boy's knees. The wind was strong.

Move back, I wanted to tell him. But this was the past; he wouldn't have heard me.

Perdix wound up the beetle and tossed it into the sky. It spread its wings and hummed away. Perdix laughed with delight.

"Smarter than me," Daedalus mumbled, far too soft for the boy to hear.

"Is it true your son died flying, Uncle? I heard you made him enormous wings, but they failed."

I winced. Perdix stepped out of line, and something bad was about to happen.

The wind whipped around the boy, tugging at his clothes, making his hair ripple. "I would like to fly," Perdix said. "I'd make my own wings that wouldn't fail. Do you think I could?"

Maybe it was a dream within my dream, but suddenly I imagined the two-headed god Janus shimmering in the air next to Daedalus, smiling as he tossed a silver key from hand to hand. Choose, he whispered to the old inventor. Choose.

Daedalus picked up another one of the boy's metal bugs. The inventor's old eyes were red with anger and sadness.

"Perdix," he called. "Catch." He tossed the bronze beetle into the sky, off towards the edge of the cliff.

Delighted, the boy jumped to catch the bug, but the throw was too far. The beetle sailed into open sky, and Perdix was caught by the wind, tumbling off the edge of the cliff. "Uncle, help me!"

The old man's face was a mask. He did not move from his spot. "Go on, Perdix," He said softly, his tone icy. "Make your own wings. Be quick about it."

"Uncle!" Perdix managed one last time, before he tumbled toward the sea.

There was a moment of deadly silence. The god Janus flickered and disappeared. Then, thunder shook from the sky. A woman's stern voice spoke from above: You will pay the price for that, Daedalus.

With a start, I realized that I recognized that voice. It was Athena, Annabeth's mother.

Daedalus scowled up at the heavens. "I've always honored you, Mother. I have sacrificed everything to follow your way."

Yet the boy had my blessing as well. And you have killed him. For that, you must pay.

"I've paid and paid!" Daedalus growled. "I've lost everything. My home, my family, my son, my reputation! All gone! I'll suffer in the Underworld, no doubt. But in the meantime..." He picked up Perdix's scroll on human automatons, studied it for a moment, then slipped it in his sleeve.

You misunderstand, Athena said coldly. You will pay now and forever.

Suddenly Daedalus collapsed in agony. I felt what he felt. A searing pain closed around my neck like a molten-hot collar, cutting off my breath and making everything go black.

§§§§§

I woke in the dark, my hands clutched around my throat, coughing loudly.

"Atti?" Grover called from beside me. "Are you alright?"

I shook my head, retching. "Fine. Just... just a dream." I steadied my breathing. I was fine, but not alright. I had just watched Daedalus, the guy we were looking for, murder his nephew. "Why're you awake?"

Grover had been staring almost mournfully at the television, the blue light of the screen flickering as something that looked like National Geographic played. "I couldn't sleep," Grover said. He sniffled. "I miss Juniper."

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "Yeah, well... you'll see her again soon."

Grover shook his head sadly. "Do you know what day it is, Atti? I just saw it on TV. It's June thirteenth. Seven days since we left camp."

I nodded numbly. "Your deadline." I said.

Grover put the TV remote in his mouth and crunched off the end of it. "I'm out of time," he said with a mouthful of plastic. "As soon as I go back, they'll take away my searcher's license. I'll never be allowed to go out again."

I wanted to suggest otherwise but I knew the Council of Cloven Elders would never allow it. Those old goats know nothing about effort, too busy snoozing on their sagging stomachs and eating peeled grapes to see how hard Grover had tried to prove himself. "You will find Pan, I know it." I said encouragingly. "You were destined to be awesome, don't worry."

Grover looked at me with sad goat eyes. "You've always been a good friend, Atti. What you did today, saving our asses against Geryon and volunteering to clean up the stables afterwards, which–"

"I did," I said. "Ooops, my bad."

Grover shook his head, laughing humorlessly. "I–I wish I could be more like you."

I leaned over and stared him in the face. "Hey, don't sound so depressed. You're just as much of a hero as–"

Grover cut me off. "No, I'm sorry, but I'm not. I keep trying, but..." He sighed. "Atti, I can't go back to camp without solid proof of Pan. I just can't. I need to find him. You understand that don't you? I can't face Juniper if I fail. I can't even face myself." His voice was so unhappy it hurt to hear. We'd been through a lot together, but I'd never heard him sound this down.

"We'll figure something out," I said. "I'll help you on the way. You won't fail. You're our champion goat boy, right? Juniper knows that. And I definitely do."

Grover closed his eyes. "Champion goat boy," he muttered dejectedly.

A long time after he dozed off, I was still awake, lost in my thoughts. I thought about calling Percy, then realized it was still very early in the morning, something like 2-3:00 am and figured that my brother must be sleeping, and probably preferred not to be bothered. Instead, I thought back to what I dreamed about. Something was really bothering me, and it was when Daedalus looked at the blueprints for human automatons. Like all mythological beings, many had been reborn in the modern world in some way, shape, or form. If Daedalus was still alive, he must already have discussed terms with Luke, because Luke had Ariadne's string in his possession, and I doubt the string was just lying around in some random hallway. I was also suspicious of Quintus, who apparently also knew his way through the maze, having bought scorpions from Triple G Ranch and Geryon hear of him quite unsettling. I wondered then if Quintus and Daedalus were related somehow, but couldn't think of what reason, and lost train of thought afterwards.

The next morning, we walked down to the cattle guard and said our good-byes. I would kinda miss the ranch, the place was really a lot nicer without Geryon around. Though, the heat was less than preferable.

"So what now, big man?" I asked Eurytion, smiling at his new look. He had cleaned up nicely, like he was getting prepared for a fresh start. He was wearing new jeans and a clean Western shirt, even trimming his beard tidily. He'd also put on Geryon's boots.

Eurytion grinned, scratching each of Orthus' chins. "Things are going to be run a little bit different on this ranch from now on. No more sacred cattle meat. I'm thinking about soybean patties. And I'm going to befriend those flesh-eating horses. Maybe sign up for the next rodeo."

I chuckled. "I wish you the best of luck."

"Yep," Eurytion spit in the grass. "I reckon you'll be looking for Daedalus' workshop now?"

"Can you help us?" I asked. "We're kinda just, going forward really."

"I don't know exactly where it is," Eurytion admitted. "But Hephaestus probably would."

"That's what Hera said," Grover agreed. "But how do we get to Hephaestus?"

Eurytion pulled something from under the collar of his shirt. It was a necklace: a smooth silver disk on a silver chain. The disk had a depression in the middle, like a thumbprint. He handed it to me.

"Hephaestus comes here from time to time," Eurytion said. "Studies the animals and such so that he can make bronze automaton copies. Last time, I... uh... did him a favor. A little trick he wanted to play on my dad, Ares, and Aphrodite. He gave me that chain in gratitude. Said if I ever needed to find him, the disk would lead me to his forges. But only once."

"And you're giving it to us?" I asked.

Eurytion chuckled. "I don't need to see the forges, miss. Got enough to do here. Just press the button and you'll be on your way."

I pressed the depression, and the disk sprang to life. It grew eight metallic legs, and dropped from my hands, scurrying away. It scrambled to the cattle guard and disappeared between the bars.

"Thanks for everything, Eurytion!" I thanked the cowherd one last time, before turning away. "Hurry guys, that thing's clearly not going to wait for us."

Grover and Tyson both said their farewells, and Tyson pulled the cattle guard off the hole, and we dropped back into the maze.

After a few moments, I seriously wished that I had leashed the spider in some way. It scuttled so fast down the dark Labyrinth tunnels, that if not for Grover and Tyson's excellent sense of hearing, we'd have lost it long ago.

We ran down a marble tunnel, then dashed to the left and almost fell into an abyss. Tyson grabbed me and hauled me back before I could fall. The tunnel continued in front of us, but there was no floor for about a hundred feet, just gaping darkness and a series of iron rungs on the ceiling. The mechanical spider was about halfway across, swinging from bar to bar by shooting out metal web fiber.

"Monkey bars huh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Wow, I haven't done these in years." They were no problem, and I swung after the spider, trying not to think about plummeting to my death. Tyson had given Grover a goatyback ride across the chasm, and we continued to run, following the spider and taking a few more turns until we found ourselves staring at a massive metal door, which the spider kept banging its head against.

The door looked like one of those old-fashioned submarine hatches: oval, with metal rivets around the edges and a wheel for a doorknob. Where the portal should've been was a big brass plaque, green with age, with a Greek Êta inscribed in the middle.

We all looked at each other.

"Ready to meet Hephaestus?" Grover asked nervously.

"Yes!" I said, and Tyson turned the wheel.

As soon as the door opened, the spider scuttled inside with Tyson right behind it. Grover and I entered after, then stared at the room in awe.

The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic's garage, with several hydraulic lifts. Some had cars on them, but others had stranger things: a bronze hippalektryon with its horse head off and a bunch of wires hanging out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed hooked up to a battery charger, and a Greek war chariot made entirely out of flames. Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. A burning mini forge sat on one side, with a partly smelted piece of metal on the side. Tools hung along the walls. Each had its own outline on a Pegboard, but nothing seemed to be in the right place. The hammer was in the screwdriver's place, and the staple gun was where the hacksaw was supposed to go.

Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a '98 Toyota Corolla, a pair of legs stuck out – the lower half of a huge man in grubby gray pants and shoes even bigger than Tyson's. One leg was in a metal brace.

The spider scuttled straight under the car, and the sounds of banging stopped.

"Well, well," a deep voice boomed from under the car. "What have we here?"

The mechanic pushed out on a back trolley and sat up. His appearance surprised me, even though I had readied myself. I guess he'd cleaned up when I saw him on Olympus, or used magic to make his form seem a little less hideous. Cause in his own workshop, the god didn't give a damn how he looked. He wore a jumpsuit smeared in oil and grime, with his name Hephaestus, embroidered over the chest pocket. His leg creaked and clicked in its metal brace as he stood, and his left shoulder was lower than his right, so he seemed to be leaning even when he was standing up straight. His head was misshapen and bulging. He wore a permanent scowl, his beard smoking and hissing randomly. Every once in a while, a small wildfire would erupt in his whiskers then die out. His hands were the size of catcher's mitts, but he handled the spider with amazing skill. He disassembled it in two seconds, then put it back together.

"There," he muttered to himself. "Much better."

The spider did a happy flip in his palm, shot a metallic web at the ceiling, and went swinging away.

Hephaestus glowered at us. "I didn't make you, did I?"

"Uh, no sir." I said.

"Good," the god mumbled. "Shoddy workmanship." He gazed at me and Grover. "Half-blood and satyr." Then he turned to Tyson, and his eyes twinkled. "Well, a Cyclops. Good, good. What are you doing traveling with this lot?"

"Uh..." Tyson managed, staring in wonder at the god.

"Yes, well said," Hephaestus agreed. "So, there'd better be a good reason you're disturbing me. The suspension on this Corolla is no small matter, you know."

"Sir," I said. "We're looking for Daedalus. We thought–!"

"Daedalus!" the god roared. "You want that old coot?! You dare seek him out?!" His beard burst into flames and his black eyes glowed.

I coughed into my hand. "Yes, unfortunately."

"Hmph, you're wasting your time," The god stood and observed me closer, while his hands worked on a pile of scrap metal. "You, you look familiar. Like that Perseus Jackson that came to visit."

I widened my eyes. "That's my brother. Sea green eyes, black hair, kinda tall with strange armor?" I asked.

"Yes!" Hephaestus grunted. "Ah, the plights I've had since meeting him. I can't get the damn metal recipe that he has!" The god looked so frustrated, I nearly laughed. "I just don't know what the heck it's made of!"

"I would help if I could," I shrugged. "But I don't know the recipe either."

The god didn't reply, and instead, parted his hands to reveal a bronze and silver falcon. Tyson laughed and clapped his hands, causing the falcon to fly onto the Cyclop's shoulder and nip his ear affectionately.

Hephaestus regarded Tyson. The god's scowl didn't change, but he held Tyson with a kinder gaze. "I sense that you have something to tell me, Cyclops."

Tyson's smile faded. "Y-yes, lord. We met a Hundred-Handed One."

Hephaestus nodded, unsurprised. "Briares?"

"Yes. He–he was scared. He would not help us."

"And that bothered you."

"Yes!" Tyson's voice wavered. "Briares should be strong! He is older and greater than Cyclopes. But he ran away."

Hephaestus grunted. "There was a time I admired the Hundred-Handed Ones. Back in the days of the first war. But people, monsters, even gods change, young Cyclops. You can't trust 'em. Look at my loving mother, Hera. You met her, didn't you? She'll smile to your face and talk about how important family is, eh? Didn't stop her from pitching me off Mount Olympus when she saw my ugly face."

"I get that feeling that she believes she's perfect," I admitted. "Stories say that Zeus did it, but I've never heard Zeus say you're his son."

Hephaestus let out a dry laugh. "Mother likes telling that version of the story. Makes her seem more likable, more trustworthy. Blame it on Zeus. The truth is, my mother likes families, but only perfect ones. She took one look at me and well.." The god turned and smiled gruesomely. "I don't quite fit the image do I?" He pulled a feather from the falcon's back, and the whole thing collapsed back into scraps.

"Back to the main topic," I said. "Is there anyway you can help us find Daedalus, regardless whether you think it's pointless or not?"

"Straight to the point, I see." The blacksmith raised an eyebrow, though it was hard to tell on his beaten up face. "You ask me for anything else: gold, flaming swords, a magical steed, I can give you easily. A way to Daedalus? That's expensive."

"Okay, so what do you want?" I asked. "Can't be too difficult right?"

Hephaestus laughed, a big booming chuckle. "You heroes, always making rash promises. How refreshing!"

I shrugged. "It's like... our gig to do so. So what's the favor? Just don't make me clean poop again and we'll be good."

The god pressed a button on his workbench, and metal shutters opened along the wall. It was either a huge window or a big-screen TV, I couldn't tell which. We were looking at a gray mountain ringed in forests. It must've been a volcano, because smoke rose from its crest.

"One of my forges," Hephaestus said. "I have many, but that used to be my favorite."

"That's Mount St. Helens," Grover said. "Great forests around there."

"You've been there?" I asked.

"Looking for you know... Pan." Grover said.

"Wait... why did it used to be your favorite?" I asked. "What happened?"

Hephaestus scratched his smoldering beard. "Well, that's where the monster Typhon is trapped, you know. Used to be under Mt. Etna, but when we moved to America, that's where he got pinned. Great source of fire, but dangerous. There's always a chance he will escape. Lots of eruptions these days, smoldering all the time. He's restless with the Titan rebellion."

"You don't want us to fight him right?" I said. "Cause that would be suicide."

"Correct," the god replied. "No, lately I've sensed intruders in my forge. When I go there and check, it's empty, but I can tell it's being used. They sense me coming, and disappear. I send my automatons to investigate, but they do not return. Something... ancient is there. Evil. I want to know who dares invade my territory, and if they mean to loose Typhon."

"You want us to find out who it is," I spelled out.

"Aye," Hephaestus said. "Go there. They may not sense your presence, since you're not gods. Go and find out what you can. Report back to me, and I will tell you what you need to know about Daedalus."

"Sounds easy enough," I said. "How do we get there?"

Hephaestus clapped his hands. The spider came swinging from the rafters, landing at our feet.

"My creation will show you the way," Hephaestus said. "It is not far through the Labyrinth. And try to stay alive, will you? Humans are much more fragile than automatons."

§§§§§

We were doing okay until we hit tree roots. The spider raced along and we were keeping up, but when we spotted a tunnel off to the side that dug from raw earth, and wrapped in thick roots, Grover stopped dead in his tracks.

"What is it?" I said.

He didn't move. He stared openmouthed into the dark tunnel, his curly hair rustling in a breeze from nowhere.

"It's Pan, isn't it?" I guessed.

"This is the way, this is it," Grover agreed. "I have to go." He stared at me sadly. "You understand don't you?"

I did. I understood his desperation for a finish to his life's journey, his terminated searcher's license not mattering at all. This was the door to his life's dream.

I made up my mind. "Then go, Grover! Go down that tunnel, and find Pan!"

"What about you?" Grover asked.

I shook my head. "The forge is a side journey. Besides I can protect myself just fine. Tyson, I'm gonna have to trust you to keep Grover safe, can you do that for me?"

Tyson nodded. "Goat boy needs help. I am not like Hephaestus. I'll help my friends, because I trust them."

Grover took a deep breath. "Atti, we still have our empathy link." He stared at me carefully. "We'll find each other again. But... I have to go."

I nodded seriously. "I know. Now GO, Grover! Prove those saggy old bags back at camp wrong. Find Pan!"

Grover smiled. "You really know how to cheer a friend up, Atti." Tyson turned and gave me one last rib-crunching hug before the duo left, leaving me alone in the tunnel. I took a deep breath, and then exhaled. Then I ran after the spider.

It didn't take long before the tunnel started to get hot. Hot as in, oven burning hot, not like the dry hot in Texas. The tunnel sloped down and I could hear a loud roar, like a river of metal. The spider skittered along.

The roaring got louder. After another half mile or so, I emerged in a cavern the size of a Super Bowl stadium. My spider escort stopped and curled into a ball. I had reached the forge of Hephaestus.

Similar to the ranch in Texas, I was pouring thick buckets of sweat down my neck, so much that I thought about cutting my hair after the quest was over. I gazed at the forge, no less in awe than when I was in Hephaestus' car garage. There was no floor, just bubbling lava hundreds of feet below. I stood on a rock ridge that circled the cavern. A network of metal bridges spanned across it. At the center was a huge platform with all sorts of machines, cauldrons, forges, and the largest anvil I'd ever seen – a block of iron the size of a literal house. Creatures moved around the platform, several strange, dark shapes, but they were too far for me to properly identify.

"Okay, then," I muttered. How could I get closer? I thought about calling Percy for help, but couldn't even conjure a flowing mist without the molecules evaporating almost instantly in the air. It was that hot. Guess I only had Riptide with me this time. I crept along the outer rim of the lava lake, hoping I could get a better angle to see what was happening in the middle. I could barely see however, my eyes stinging from the smoke. I kept creeping along until I ran into a cart on metal wheels, like the minecarts you see in underground mineshafts. I lifted up the tarp and found it half full of scrap metal. I was about to squeeze my way around it when I heard voices from up ahead, probably from a side tunnel.

"Bring it in?" one asked.

"Yeah," another said. "Movie's just about done."

I panicked. I didn't have time to back up. There was nowhere to hide except... the cart. I scrambled inside and pulled the tarp over me, hoping I didn't get seen. I curled my fingers around Riptide, just in case I needed to fight.

The cart lurched forward.

"Oi," a gruff voice said. "Thing weighs a ton."

"It's celestial bronze," the other said in a Duh voice. "What did you expect?"

I got pulled along. We turned a corner, and from the sound of the wheels echoing against the walls I guessed we had passed down a tunnel and into a smaller room. Hopefully, I wouldn't be dumped into a pot of boiling metal, cause I actually wouldn't be able to protect myself. If they started to tip me over, I'd have to charge out swords a blazing. I heard a lot of talking, chattering voices that didn't sound human – somewhere between a seal's bark and a dog's growl. There were other sounds too: an old fashioned film projector playing something, narrated by a tinny voice.

"Just set it in the back," a new voice ordered from across the room. "Now younglings, please attend to the film. There will be time for questions afterwards."

I'm not gonna go into detail about what the film discussed, but it was pretty much like... human puberty class, but for whatever monster was outside. It was, weird to say the least.

Excited snarling filled the room. The teacher, I guess it must've been the teacher, told the younglings to be quiet throughout the film. The film kept talking about growth spurts and acne problems caused by working in the forges, and proper flipper hygiene (at that point I was like, what the heck is going on?), and finally it was over.

"Now, younglings," the instructor said. "What is the proper name of our kind?"

"Sea demons!" one of them barked.

"No. Anyone else?"

"Telkhines!" another monster growled.

"Very good," the instructor said. "And why are we here?"

"Revenge!" several shouted.

"Yes, yes, but why?"

"Zeus is evil!" one monster said. "He cast us into Tartarus just because we used magic!"

"Indeed," the instructor said. "After we made so many of the gods' finest weapons. The trident of Poseidon, for one. And of course, we made the greatest weapon of the Titans! Nevertheless, Zeus cast us away and relied on those fumbling Cyclopes. That is why we are taking over the forges of the usurper Hephaestus. And soon, we will control the undersea furnaces, our ancestral home!"

I clutched Riptide tightly. These snarling things crafted my father's trident? What type of crap was this? I'd never even heard of a telkhine.

"And so, younglings," the instructor continued. "Who do we serve?"

"Kronos!" they shouted.

"And when you grow to be big telkhines, will you make weapons for his army?"

"Yes!"

"Excellent. Now, we've brought in some scraps for you to practice with. Let's see how ingenious you are."

There was a rush of movement and excited voices coming towards the cart. I got ready to uncap Riptide. The tarp was thrown back. I jumped up, my bronze sword springing to life in my hands and found myself facing a bunch of... dogs.

"Okay, what the actual fuck?" I asked. Well, their faces were dogs, anyways, with black snouts, brown eyes, and pointy ears. Their bodies were sleek and black like sea mammals, with stubby legs that were half flipper, half foot, and humanlike hands with sharp claws. If you blended together a kid, a Doberman pinscher, and a sea lion, you'd get something like what I was looking at.

"A demigod!" one snarled.

"Eat it!" yelled another.

"Okay, that's new," I muttered. "Usually, it's DIE, but I guess you're a bit premature..." Before they could continue further, I slashed a wide arc with Riptide and vaporized the entire front row of monsters.

"Back off!" I yelled, giving my most sadistic smile. "New lesson, class. Most monsters will vaporize instantly after getting sliced with a celestial bronze sword. So unless you are so anxious to turn into powder, back the fuck off!"

To my surprise, it worked. The monsters backed up, but there were at least twenty of them. I could have handled them if I could summon mace constructs, but... it's a bit hot. Just a bit. Instead, I jumped out of the cart, yelled, "CLASS DISMISSED!" and bolted out of the room, sprinting for the exit.

The monsters charged after me, barking and growling. I hoped they couldn't run very fast with those stubby limbs of theirs, but they managed along pretty well. Thank the gods there was a door on the tunnel leading out to the main cavern. I slammed it shut and turned the wheel handle to lock it, but I doubted it would keep them long.

I ran out towards the middle, towards a massive platform where four elder telkhines stood, forging some sort of weapon. My best guess? Something for Kronos.

The telkhines were eight feet tall at least, and their ink black skin glistened in the firelight, sparks flying as they took turns hammering on a long piece of glowing hot metal.

"The blade is almost complete," one said. "It needs another cooling in blood to fuse the metals."

"Aye," a second said. "It shall be even sharper than before."

I was still deciding on what to do next when the class of telkhines behind me decided for me.

"There!" one yelled. I didn't think much and bolted for the middle platform, surprising the four elder sea demons so much they dropped the red-hot blade. It was about six feet long and curved like a crescent moon. A scythe, I realized. And if my memory served correctly, Kronos wields a scythe as his main weapon.

The elder demons got over their surprise quickly. There were four ramps leading off the center platform, and before I could dash off, each of them had covered an exit.

The tallest one snarled. "What do we have here? A daughter of Poseidon?"

"Yes," another growled. "I can smell the sea in her blood."

I raised Riptide, my heart pounding.

"Strike down one of us, demigod," the third demon said, "And the rest of us shall tear you to shreds. Your father betrayed us. He took our gift and said nothing as we were cast in the pit. We will see him sliced to pieces. He and all other Olympians."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I was in no position to act cocky. I couldn't even summon a droplet of water, let alone a bit of mist. I was alone, with heat pounding on my body. Before I could decide what to do, the tallest telkhine spoke.

"Let us see how strong she is. Let us see how long it take her to burn!" He scooped come lava out of the nearest furnace, the molten rock and fire clearly not bothering him the slightest. The other elders did the same. The first one threw a glop of lava at me, setting my jeans on fire. Two more splattered across my chest. I dropped my sword in sheer terror and swatted at my clothes. It was lava, why wouldn't I panic? Flames engulfed me, wrapping around my body. It was warm at first, but slowly became more and more hot by the second.

"Your father's nature protects you," one said. "Makes you hard to burn. But not impossible, youngling. Not impossible."

I gritted my teeth, the flames getting worse. I used every water protection technique I knew, but nothing helped. Soon, I was screaming my head off, my whole body alight. The pain was worse than holding the sky, which was saying something. I felt like I was being consumed. I crumpled to the metal floor, losing my mind.

I needed water, I needed the sea. I remembered a flash of memory, something Percy and I discussed, something about the power of the sea within us. But I was in a volcano, writhing in flames. There was no ocean, no river, no bubble of water here.

I had no choice. I called to the sea, reaching inside myself and remembered the feeling of the ocean, of how the waves and currents wrapped around my body every time I swam at a beach. The power of the sea. And I let it loose in one horrible scream that surely shattered my vocal cords.

Afterward, I didn't know what happened. An explosion, a tidal wave, a whirlwind of power simultaneously caught me and blasted me downward into the lava, smashing through the platform. Fire and water collided, superheating steam, and I shot upward from the heart of the volcano in a huge explosion that shook the sky around me. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was flying, flying so high Zeus would never forgive me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire tumbling around my smoking half dead form with water streaming from my sides. I was a comet hurtling towards the earth.

I'm sorry, everyone.

---

And now, an excerpt from a new story idea that I came up with over the last two weeks, partially the reason why this chapter took so long. I present to you: The Other Side of the Doors

"Something's coming!"

The room shook, the two massive silver doors near the back causing the commotion. Monitors were beeping crazily as scientists and researchers scrambled for their stations.

"What is it this time?" A tall young man with a cruel smile and sharp blonde hair stared at the slowly opening doors.

"We don't know!" The researcher closest to him replied. "Signatures represent that of a demigod, but weren't those wiped out several decades ago?"

"That's impossible!" The blonde man agreed. "The Doors of the Void have never offered a demigod before. Regardless, make sure that we capture whatever comes out alive."

"They're entering!" One of the guards near the door called out. "Raise the shields, and prepare the suppressors!"

The blonde man stood still, his gaze anticipatory. He held his hands behind his back, yet remained domineering, his aura showcasing his hidden power, the black and silver blade at his side representing his strength. His human eye shined blue, but was dull compared to his golden right eye that seemed to glow with the gears of clockwork within the honey-colored iris.

"Luke!" A feminine voice called out, followed by the sound of metal doors sliding shut. "Luke, the readings are saying that it's a demi–"

The blonde man raised his hand. "I know. They keep telling me that it's a demigod. I didn't believe it at first but…" He turned to stare at his lover and lead researcher's intelligent gray eyes. "You're usually never wrong."

The researcher however, remained worried. "Warnings are blowing up all over security. Whoever is coming through… they're very strong."

Luke smiled confidently. "Don't worry. I'm strong enough to protect all of us here. Plus, if things go sideways–"

"No." The woman said. "I don't ever want to see you using his power, even as a last resort. You know what it does to your body right? The last time you used it…" She tapered off.

Luke nodded, clenching his fists tightly. "I understand, darling. But to protect you, I would do anything."

"You're sweet," The woman said. The device in her hand suddenly vibrated violently. "Oh no!"

Luke jerked his face towards the screen, trying to make sense of the rushing count of numbers and letters popping out. He paled. "That's… no way…"

"Not so," The woman swiped at the screen frantically, before ducking towards one of the researcher's microphones atop the desk. "Guard Units A & B, this is Lead Annabeth Chase! Activate max tier suppressors, godly level immediately!"

The guards near the door scrambled to change the setting on their large stereo-lookalike devices, responsible for channeling magical waves of suppression meant to disable monsters and godly creatures of their strength and abilities, if they had any.

Luke kissed the woman on the forehead, before turning away. "If it's what I think it is, I better go in and help. The guards may not last long under a child of the Big Three."

Annabeth swiped a lock of blonde hair that had fallen across her face aside. "Please, be safe."

Luke smiled warmly. "Of course. I'll be careful. We have an interrogation with the sea god before he's Siphoned completely after all."

"Yes, we do," Annabeth said. "Now hurry, whatever's coming is breaching… NOW!"

Luke turned, the thick reinforced glass between the control platform and Doors of the Void shaking violently as a sea of invisible power slammed against them. Many guards were thrown off their feet, despite wearing full body Castellan armor. Suppressors nearest to the door were blasted to bits, despite working at full capacity.

"Dr. Castellan!" One of the researchers shouted through the chaos of noise in the room. "We might need backup!"

Luke narrowed his eyes and took off his jacket, revealing his two arms streaked with sharp and jagged black lines like violent tattoos against his skin. He stepped through the containment doors and leaped over the railing, landing firmly on his feet. He turned his attention to the door, which continued to spit white light, which was normal. The abnormal part was the surge of energy Luke could feel, the same surge of power that only a deity could release.

Luke stood, ready to power up. His eyes focused on what seemed to be an enlarging black dot appearing from the light, slowly taking the form of a person, a person that looked to be a little shorter than him, and dragging his feet with what looked to be a sword or lance behind him.

"Lu-Lu-ke?" A raspy voice came from the dragging figure, though so distorted that Luke couldn't quite tell what the figure was saying. It sounded like a speaker invaded by an army of static.

"Sorry?" Luke asked, charging sparks of lightning in both arms. The aura was getting stronger, almost suffocating the air with dominance. Luke fought back with his own aura, refusing to back down.

"Luke?" The second time the figure spoke was clearer, though no less confusing. Luke didn't get why the figure was calling his name. Coincidence perhaps?

"Luke," The figure stepped clear from the doors, and Luke raised a hand in front of him, about to blast the monster away when he realized it was a person. An honest to god, flesh and blood, person. For the years of seeing monsters and creatures step free from the doors, this was the first Luke witnessed a person come out, demigod or not.

The boy looked to be about in his late teens. Bedraggled was not the right word to describe him, the teen looked completely wrecked. Clothes in tatters, blood, sweat and grime coating his arms and legs. His eyes looked like a mixture of shattered glass and empty void, like he had witnessed every horror in the world. Yet power still shone in those shattered green orbs. In his right hand, he held a sharp white blade that looked like it was made and carved from the bones of a monstrous creature. Black messy hair decorated his scalp, just as dirty as the rest of his body. "Luke, is that you?"

The blonde man faltered. He had never seen this teen before, or anyone close to the teen's resemblance. "I don't know you," Luke said, charging up a blast. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to put you to sleep."

The teen's eyes widened. "Sleep?" Then he moved faster than his body looked like it could handle, stamping his foot past Luke's outstretched arm and blast and into his chest. Luke was thrown backwards into the wall behind him.

"Uf," Luke muttered, rubbing the spot he'd been kicked. He hadn't been hurt in quite a while, and even though the kick was weak, given how tired the teen must've been, Luke merely smiled at the momentary pain. "I was going to be civil, but you've just crossed the line."

The teen smirked. "I apologize. But I don't take it kindly when people tell me they're going to–" He paused, leaping in the air over another electric blast and landing on one of the blasted suppressors. "–put me to sleep." He finished. "Now, could you tell me where in Zeus' name I am?"

Luke didn't say anything, and instead fired blast after blast at the teen, who dodged each one, though he seemed to be tiring, as the last blast singed an already singed part of his shirt. Luke would use more power, but he didn't want to destroy the Doors' room in the process, and many other people including Annabeth were behind the glass protection, which definitely wouldn't hold if Luke unleashed more power.

The teen made the decision for him. "Luke," The teen said, right as the ground began to rumble. "I don't know how you're alive, but I can't keep this up right now. Maybe later?" He smirked, before water blew up from the ground, erecting an opaque wall of blue in front of Luke, churning with dirt from the ground and metal from the pipes the water roared from.

"No!" Luke yelled, tearing through the wall, only to find that the teen had disappeared. "How'd he–?" He was cut off when he heard an explosion behind him, on the other side of the glass. "Annabeth!"

Luke flew into the air, sprinting through the wrecked containment door, realizing a few seconds later that the teen had some sort of super strength ability in stock, since no normal person should've been able to break such a thick and heavy door. Most of the researchers were ducked under their desks, avoiding the flying rumble and fighting people's way. Annabeth herself had her knife out, a glinting bronze blade that Luke had gifted her when she was 7.

"Did you see him?" Luke asked.

"What were you doing down there?" Annabeth asked. "Why didn't you blast him?"

"A demigod of that power," Luke said. "I'd be stupid to go in guns a'blazing. His aura felt crushing."

Annabeth sighed. "I'm sorry. And here I was telling you to be careful and all…"

Luke chuckled. "I took your advice. However, let's not talk now, after all, he's loose in the base. The last thing we want him to find is…"

"The god." Annabeth nodded. She tossed away her lab coat, revealing a worked out body dressed in a skin tight combat outfit. Besides the knife in her hand, two more silver daggers lined the sides of her waist. "Like old times, just you and me hunting monsters?"

Luke fired up his arms. "Just like old times."

It's just a draft so far, but for those wondering, it's another alternate universe take. If you're interested, I'll be posting this story sometime in July or so, putting it as a side update project until Part I of My World, But Not Mine is finished.

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A/N: This chapter was originally supposed to be split in three separate updates, but I couldn't find the appropriate areas to break it apart without breaking the story's rhythm, and so ended up writing it all in one go, amounting to nearly 20K plus words. Also, since time runs slower in the maze than it does outside, there were more details and scenes to include, much of which I couldn't just delete or modify to make shorter. Believe me I tried, but there were so many goddamn dreams and flashbacks to copy, I almost went crazy.

I'm sure most of you have noticed by now that this Labyrinth arc is going to be mostly from Atalanta's side, mainly because what Percy is doing is really (in the grand scheme of things) not that important right now. Some character scenes have been deleted or left out, because of change in events, such as Nico's whole thing in the books, but the son of Hades will show up at a later date, just not yet. This chapter did take quite a while, and I will try to avoid doing this again, because I seriously almost smashed my computer several times from simply reading and editing dumb mistakes too much. If you find any grammatical stuff still... well, I tried my best alright?

Once again, if you have any thoughts on the story, both this one and the new leaked one, leave them in the comments. I read them, cause they help me write more and better content, so keep doing what you guys do. Thanks for your patience, and I'll see you in the next one!

Peace out, you legends!

~ Zayden Shade