The air was thick with the smell of dirt. I was on a grassy plain in the middle of nowhere. All around me, people dressed in mid-eighteenth century clothes walked through a labyrinth of bricks that were painted white. The brick seemed to be a fence. Small alcoves kept it from being a completely solid structure. Chains stretched from both ends of the alcove, as if to keep something inside.

When I came to my senses, I spun around, suddenly realizing where I was.

I was in the middle of a slave auction. My blood boiled as I recognized one of the men behind me. Malcolm—the owner of Elana and her family. There was a black man beside him, though. He was wearing black cloth dress-pants stained with dirt, and a formally white button-up shirt, that was now a light tan or brown color. He towered over Malcolm—who held a whip clutched in his evil palms. It had to have been Elana's husband.

Browsers passed by me, looking into the the alcove behind Malcolm. I directed my attention in that direction, and terror immediately spread across my face. Elana, Stephani, and her two sons—whose names I seemed to recall as Sam and Teddy—all huddled into a small corner, crying and holding onto each other. I could hear their sobs over all the bustle around me.

"Don't let them take us, Momma." Stephani pleaded, grabbing Elana's waist harder and squeezing.

She didn't seem to mind. She wiped the tears from her cheek. "Baby, I'll try." She sniffled and looked at her two boys as well. "Just, whatever happens... remember. I'll always love you."

The youngest boy wiped the snot from his nose, tears dripping from his eyes. "I'll be in your heart forever, right, Momma?"

Elana started to cry more furiously, and she rubbed his head. "Yes. I'll look at the stars, and remember our nighttime sneaks to the lake. I'll listen to the birds, and only hear the sounds of your precious voices. I'll look over the cornfields, and remember how I watched you grow." The way she said the words drew tears to my eyes. It was as if she'd seen this day coming since their birth.

The older boy said something. He seemed to be the eldest of the children. "When I look at my reflection in the river while I'm fetchin' the water, and I'll see Daddy."

"I'll look at the sunrise, and it'll remind me o'momma." Stephani looked at her mother. "'Cept she's more prettier."

Elana's shirt was stained with tears. "Promise me one thing."

"What?" The younger boy asked, but all three pairs of eyes were on her.

She leaned in close, as if sharing a secret with them. "Promise me you'll run away. Head into the Canada Territories. There's a woman by the name of Harriet Tubman, swear to me you'll find her. She'll help you." None of them answered. But they looked at each other.

"Momma?" the older boy asked. "Will we ever see you again."

She looked into the boy's eyes, a tear slid down her cheek. "No."

The boy went into a pure sob.

"Sam, I want you to remember one thing," she told him, hugging him, pulling him in closer. "You are in charge of your brother and sister now. Right now, they need you more than ever. Please, I need you to be strong. Always."

"Ye—yes ma'aa-aam." Sam stuttered through his tears.

A new voice interrupted the conversation. "May I get a closer look at them?" I turned, a white man held his wife elbow-to-elbow as she shielded the light from them with a yellow umbrella.

"But of course." Malcolm replied with a cheesy smile. "Andrew—let them out." Elana's husband obeyed immediately, but the slavemaster grabbed his upper arm, and whispered in her ear: "and keep that bitch of a wife of your's mouth shut, or there'll be punishments for the both of you."

Andrew unlatched the chain, and frantically motioned the children out. Reluctantly, the filed outside the alcove. The man stepped towards Sam, and raised his hand to his face. Sam flinched. "A jumpy one." the man remarked. But he presumed on. Malcolm shot Andrew a you'll pay for that later glare.

The man pushed Sam's cheeks opened, and instructed him to open his mouth. Sam did, and the man examined his teeth. I shot a glance at Elana. She was watching intently, her eyes pleading.

The white man examined the remaining kids' teeth. After he finished, he studied them for a moment more.

"A very nice set. I do Believe I'll buy them from you." He eyed them greedily. "All three."

Dollar signs practically flashed in front of Malcolm's eyes. He was too distracted that he didn't notice Elana hop up in the alcove. She slowly made her way near where they were standing, and clasped her hand into Teddy's.

The man paid Malcolm, who, at this point, was almost literally drooling. After he had paid, he looked at the kids and said "Come along."

None of them budged. They were trying to hide their tears, but I could see them slowly and silently rolling down their cheeks.

"I said come along." The man repeated, a tinge of annoyance creeping in his voice. Stephani was the first to give in, most likely not wanting to feel the wrath of her new master before they got home. She started walking slowly. The man grabbed her on the shoulder and started pulling.

"No!" screamed Elana as her children were being taken away. She was gasping for air through her sobs. "Please!" she still had hold of Teddy's hand, and was struggling to keep hold, leaning over the side of the cell she was in.

"Momma!" Teddy called.

"Please!" Elana begged. "Please! Don't take my babies!"

My eyes focused on their hands. They were holding on tight, but Teddy was being yanked away. Elana tried to scramble over the wall of the alcove, but she wasn't tall enough.

Finally, Teddy's hand slipped out of hers, and she let out a cry that was filled with sorrow. "Don't! Please, come back!"

Images flashed before my eyes. The family in the lake at night. The children running through the fields, laughing and playing, as they did very rarely, the family huddling together in a small cabin for warmth, breaking a loaf of bread that the kids would eat, while Elana and Andrew watched, knowing they were both hungry as well. I watched as the kids broke off a portion of their share each and gave it to their parents.

Malcolm was furious. He bounded towards Elana, and without saying a word, he struck her across the face. She yelped, and fell tot he ground. A second later, Andrew was at Malcolm. He lifted the small slave driver of the ground, and threw him to the ground.

I could see the anger in his eyes when Malcolm lifted his head. I remembered Elana's words. I will never forget the way my master would look as he beat one of us, the fire behind his dark brown eyes as he whipped us, and hit us across the head or face with whatever was available. It seemed to me he beat the children even harder.

The white man met eyes with Andrew, stood up, cracked his whip, and said: "you've just made the biggest mistake of your life."

I was sure I knew what was going to happen.

Suddenly, the world around me shifted. I was standing along a dirt-road on a hot summer's night. Beads of sweat was already forming at my hairline. Trees stretched for miles—as far as I could see. The moon hovered just above the tops of the trees, and cast a gloomy shadow over the dirt-road.

I could hear shouting in the distance, and the galloping of horses.

"We can't outrun them, they're on horses!" A familiar voice broke the silence around me. I turned around. Of course, it was Elana.

"We have to try," a woman black woman in ragged clothes gestured to the hill behind us. "The house is just over that hill, we can make it!"

"And get the people who live there arrested when they find us? Harriet, you know much better than I that they'll search that house, it's already been suspected that it's part of the railroad." Elana argued.

Harriet. Could that really be...?

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Harriet returned. "Standing here arguing is doing nothing but losing time."

"You're the conductor, you tell me."

"I—I don't know. Every time I lead someone and we almost get caught, I've always gotten lucky somehow." Harriet admitted. Then I knew it was true. It was the one and only Harriet Tubman—daughter of Hermes.

"Please—don't give up now." Elana pleaded with the woman. "I ain't goin' back to my master."

Harriet looked around, her eyes searching for possible solutions. "Can you climb?"

Elana looked up above her head, and let out a stream of curses. Harriet ignored it, and walked to the trunk of the tree. She lifted the bottom of her skirt up slightly, and hoisted herself up using a branch. Elana followed her lead.

I could see the mob now—there were at least ten horsemen, and I was sure that among them was Malcolm. They all waved guns and swords in the air. Most of them were probably after Harriet, who was wanted for her aiding escaped slaves.

The fugitives climbed as fast as they could.

"Maybe we'll blend in," Harriet thought aloud, taking her spot at the top of the tree.

"Uh... Harriet, in case you haven't noticed, we're black, not green." Elana corrected sarcastically.

"Don't joke about this!" Harriet scolded. "We could both die tonight."

Elana's facial expression darkened. She looked as if she were in deep thought for a moment. "This is what we're going to do," she said suddenly. "When they get close enough to see us, I'll drop from the tree, trying to make it look like I fell."

"Wha—"

"And when they're all distracted with me, you slip out of the tree and into the woods unnoticed."

"I can't leave you here to die," Harriet told her.

"Harriet, you have to. You have a family to go back to, a home, and most of all, you're needed here on the Railroad. Me—no one will miss me while I'm gone. I don't have a family to go back to anymore, now that Andrew... died. I don't have a purpose. I'd rather die than go back to work for that murderin', child sellin' bastard anyway."

Harriet Tubman looked at her. "Elana, you're one of the bravest people I've ever known."

"And that, coming from Harriet Tubman, the bravest woman I've ever known, I want those to be the last words you say to me." she looked at the attackers, they were closer now, almost in view. "I d have a request, though. Please, find my children—take them to Canada. I want them to have a better life."

Harriet almost said something, but she remembered what Elana had said, and nodded. I heard Elana suck in a deep breath—probably from fear—and plunge out of the tree, landing on the road with a hard thud.

Harriet Tubman said a prayer. I tried to listen, but what I heard was "Greg."

I listened harder.

"Greg."

I looked up at her, she looked back.

"Greg."

"What?" I asked, opening my eyes to intense light. A man stood over me—he had jet black hair and wore a stethoscope and a white overcoat. I reached for a clipboard at my bedside, and began writing.

"Patient is seeming to be responsive." He mumbled, then looked at me.

I sat straight up. "Where am I?" I looked at him again. "Who the hell are you?"

The man began writing on his clipboard again. "Patient has no recollection of his whereabouts, and is saying naughty words to the doctor." he looked at me again. "Sow some respect, my dad's in the building."

"Huh?" I asked, spots dancing in front of my eyes from looking into the lights. "Who's your dad?"

"Only Apollo—greatest poet and musician the world's ever known." The man replied.

"Okay..." I said suspiciously. "And that would make you...?"

"Why, my patient, I am Asclepius, god of surgery and healing."

"Oh, um... okay." And then my memory came flooding back to me in an instant. The train—it was supposed to explode, and Estelle KO'ed Carter with a banana, and... and—Cynthia. Cynthia was dead. "What happened with the train? Where's Estelle? How long have I been out?"

He turned to his clipboard again. "Subject is full of questions..."

"Hey!" I yelled at him. "What's going on?"

"Alright, I can answer one question for you—the rest I'm not sure about, but you've been out for approximately three years." He looked at his notes nonchalantly.

"Three years?" I was panicked.

He stared at me in the eyes, face fully focused, and then he erupted in laughter.

"What's so funny?" I demanded.

"You... thought... was.. serious!" He said through laughter. "Three years! Ha! Oh, that's classic. You've only been out for three days. You're in the Erebian Hold Infirmary."

I shed the sheets that covered me and went into a sitting position.

"Where are you going?" Asclepius asked, drawn out of his laughter.

"Anywhere you're not." I answered. The room I was in was just like a war infirmary. It had a small bed stand, a hospital bed, and sheets that acted as walls. I gripped the sheet that would lead me out of my 'room'.

"Okay, but you'll miss the meeting." Asclepius warned.

I turned around. "What meeting?"

"You've been requested to meet with the officers of the army tonight if you were you know... conscious and able to walk and all that stuff." He informed me, and looked me over. "You seem fine to me. Normally, people who pass out and stuff due to injury or something fall in and out of consciousness for days—which I totally don't get, they've been sleeping for Apollo-knows-how-long, and yet, all they want to do is get more sleep. But you seem fine. Kind of weird."

"When is this meeting? Where? Will Estelle be there?" I asked him all at once.

"Well—ah—it's in the dining hall, and it started..." he looked at his watch. "Five minutes ago."

Crap! "Where's the dining hall?"

"It's down the hallway, last door on your left, but hey, Greg, there's something you should know—"

But I was already gone. I'd only known him for ten minutes, but most likely, I'd turn around for the something I should know, and he'd say, 'pull my finger'.

I was going as fast as I could go, which, at this point, wasn't very fast, considering that I got dizzy every time I went faster than a light jog. I passed all the other patients and headed straight for the door, the tile feeling cool on my bare feet. I twisted the doorknob and headed down the hall, which was surprisingly wide, and had at least thirty doors on each side. I ignored them. For now.

When I got to the end of the hall, I could hear Asclepius shouting after me. I hesitated when I put my hand on the knob, Cynthia's death suddenly washed over me. For some reason, I felt the sorrow that accompanied her final departure. Knowing that I may never see her again, and knowing that her dying was partially my fault. I didn't know how exactly it was my fault, but I knew three things. That I could never get close to anyone like that, ever, ever again. It was just too dangerous. Second, Cynthia was dead, and it was all my fault. And finally, Alexandria would pay for what she'd done.

I fought back tears as I opened the door. The room opened up to me, and I did a quick scan, ignoring everyone who wasn't Estelle. I spotted her sitting at the table, she'd been staring at the chalkboard that Athena was presenting information on. I hadn't a clue Athena was on our side.

Then, I saw something that made my heart skip a beat.

At the head of the table, sat my father, Hades—lord of the dead.

--1--

Asclepius skidded to a halt next to me.

"By chance, was the thing you wanted to tell me was that my father was here?" I asked him, blood rushing to my face.

"Um, no, actually, I wanted to tell you that you were still wearing your hospital gown." He explained.

I looked down. It was true. Here I was, in the presence of gods and battle heroes, and I was wearing a robe that was slit open in the back. I didn't think the day could get any worse until I saw Aphrodite sitting at the table. Then, my face went really red.

"Oh, for gods' sake, someone get that kid a robe." Ares shouted from the table, diverting everyone's attention from Athena to me.

"He's as skinny as a rail!" Demeter shouted, and slapped Hades on the shoulder. "Don't you ever feed your children, brother?"

Asclepius draped a white bathrobe over my shoulders. I muttered something like 'Thank you', but my brain was being turned to mush, so it's a mystery, what I really said.

"Come in," Hades ordered, eying me. He gestured to a seat next to Estelle. "Continue, Athena." The goddess turned back to her chalk boards. The first one was full of information about both sides of the war. It said:

Axis: Allies

HADES Zeus

Athena Poseidon

Ares Dionysus

Apollo Hephaestus

Demeter Hermes

Aphrodite Artemis and the Hunt

Amazons Hera

Chiron

Obviously, It was showing which god was on which side. I sat next to Estelle.

"How about we eat first, and I'll discuss my plans over dinner?" Athena suggested. Hades nodded, and she took her seat next to Ares.

The first course of our meal appeared on our plates. Light salads with the perfect amount of dressing, and a small roll. The table was silent for a while. I kept sneaking glances at my father. He had some nerve, to show up here—knowing I was pissed at him, and on top of that, he wasn't even acknowledging my presence.

Apollo spoke up, obviously trying to break the silence. "Athena, what are our chances of winning this war? 'Cause I've got better things to do than to fight a losing war. I could be... you know. Well—you know."

"Same here." Ares announced, attacking his salad.

"It's very difficult to say," Athena explained politely. "On our side, we have the whole forces of the dead, and the full Amazonian army. While on the other side, they've got the forces of water, air, and Zeus's master bolt. They've also got Hera and her forces of monsters. Not to mention Chiron and the other centaurs."

"Sounds to me we're outnumbered." Penthesilea chimed in. I hadn't noticed her before. "The Amazon numbers are decreasing. We've got operatives all over America right now we'll have to call back." Her sister nodded. Aphrodite kept quiet. She was absorbed in a loose thread in her dress.

"We'll soon have Achilles to lead our fight," Hades explained. He looked at me. "That is, if my son takes time out of his busy schedule sleeping to recruit him."

I practically spat my iced tea across the table—which wouldn't have gone over well with Apollo and Aphrodite. "Huh?"

"Don't act like a fool. If it weren't for you and your 'beauty sleep' I'd already have my commander." Hades said matter-of-fact.

I slammed my dressing-covered fork on the table, and a bit of ranch slung off the tip and landed in Apollo's tea.

"Well, I wouldn't even have been born if you'd have kept your pants on!" I screamed. Estelle tugged at my arm.

"I beg your pardon!" Hades stood, and we were glaring into each other's eyes.

"I don't care whose pardon you beg!" I screamed at him.

"Awesome. Drama." Apollo said with a smile.

We ignored him. Hades collected himself. "I've tried to be nice—to bargain with you, but you're very obviously ungrateful."

"Nice? You don't know the meaning of the word nice. If you think nice is giving me freaking ultimatums then you've got another thing coming. Telling me that if I win this war for you—do everything you say, you'll give me my mother back, and if I don't, you'll punish me with immortality—that's evil. And you're evil, Lord Hades."

"You miserable little runt!" Hades yelled. "I ought to teach you some manners!"

"You ought to learn some yourself." I mumbled.

"I like him," Demeter beamed up at Hades.

Hades grabbed the front of my robe. "You will learn how to talk to and respect the immortal gods, whether I have to beat you into it or not."

I grinned uncannily. "But you can't, can you?"

He let go, his face drawing pale. "What are you talking about?" he now seemed nervous.

"You can't harm me, can you? You need me. That's why you're pressuring me so hard. And I have a feeling it has something to do with the—what is it? Seal of Destiny?"

Suddenly, all eyes in the room were on me. I could hear gasps from some parts of the table.

"Gregory—don't ever say that aloud again." Athena warned, she looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

Hades sat down, and started eating his salad again. I followed his lead—though I'm not sure why.

"Got it!" Aphrodite shouted, breaking the silence, holding the string that used to be attached to her dress.

"So—Lady Athena. You were in the middle of telling us you're plan to conquer half-blood hill." Hippolyte prompted.

"Yes." Athena said, seeming relieved that the fight had stopped, and that I wasn't saying anything. Hades had started it—but of course, the hero's to blame. "Zeus has given us until tomorrow—the winter solstice—to withdraw our forces from the Erebian Stronghold, before he sends his army to remove us. The winter solstice conference on Olympus is still going to take place as planned—however, I'm guessing Zeus will give us one more chance to withdraw from our keep. I suggest, that as he sends his army to attack our Stronghold, we send ours to attack his main keep—camp half-blood."

That suggestion sent chills up my spine.

"But that would leave the Erebian unguarded," Demeter inquired. "That's not a wise decision."

"Yes, but most likely, Zeus will not be expecting us to counterattack. He'll leave only a few to guard his camp."

"What would be the point in taking the camp?" Penthesilea asked. "That would just put us closer to Olympus, and we'd lose all our supplies here in Germany."

"That's the second part." Athena explained. "We should relocate all our supplies to somewhere where Zeus and Poseidon can't take them."

"Where?" Apollo asked, but you could tell he wasn't really interested.

"The Underworld." Athena said, casting a gaze to Hades. "In fact, that should be our main Stronghold. That way, we're in America, and the Allies' troops are all the way in Europe."

"I can't risk an attack on the Underworld." Hades said dully.

"We haven't many other options." Athena explained. "Lord Ares is running out of sword fighters—and Apollo out of cavalry. Our weapons and other supplies are quickly dwindling—and Hephaestus is fighting for Zeus, and Poseidon has the underground Armory."

"I still can't believe he did that to me!" Aphrodite threw a sudden fit. "I told him I was going to fight for Hades's cause, and her purposely chose the opposite. Against his own wife! Okay, sure, he said he was tired of me cheating on him with his brother—but in all fairness, I cheat on him with other people, too."

She's a nutcase.

Everyone ignored her. Ares looked at Hades. "Are you sure you want Achilles as your commander? You've got me, and I'm the war god. He's just some dude who got lucky."

"We need Achilles as commander and you as captain, Ares." Hades said simply. Ares looked like he'd never been so insulted in his life.

"And if we're using my strategy," Athena chimed in, "we'll need him by tomorrow."

The whole room turned their attention to me again, awaiting my answer. I turned to Estelle—who was still sitting next to me. "Will you help me?"

She nodded.

"Consider it done." The last thing I wanted to do was something that would help Hades—but I knew that if I did whatever he wanted, and if I made him swear, he'd have to give me mother back. I wanted so badly to ask him why he took Cynthia from me—all she ever did was help me. But now was not the time (Especially since her father was sitting across from me.)

He looked unphased by her death. But—he'd seen deaths of his children before. I turned to the unholy gaze of my father. "Do you swear on the River Styx that you will give me my mother back if I do whatever you say?"

He didn't seem surprised by my asking. "I do."

"Then I'll leave in the morning."

"Would you like me to come along in case he needs a little...convincing?" Aphrodite asked, reapplying her lip-stick.

Apollo snorted. "That would only work if we were trying to convince him not to fight for us."

She slapped him on the arm. "Now I see why Artemis is fighting against you."

"If he needs any convincing just... just tell him I'm here." Penthesilea told me.

"What does he care that you're here?" It came out more rude than I meant it to.

Penthesilea waved it away. "He's—just always had a weak spot for me." She blushed.

"You mean he's always had a thing for you," Hippolyte teased.

"A thing?" I asked. "You and Achilles? Gross. Wait—didn't he kill you?"

Penthesilea sighed, a hint of regret filled her eyes. I could see her face more clearly than I could when I first saw her on the train top. She wasn't wearing a battle helmet. Her face looked young—mid twenties, early thirties, maybe. Her skin was pale, though, her features soft. Her blue eyes shown like reflections of the ocean, and her light brown hair reached just below her neckline.

"Let me tell the story? Please? I just love the romance in it." Aphrodite begged. Penthesilea signed and nodded. "Okay, so one day, Penthesilea and Hippolyte were out hunting, and they saw this dear, and Penthesilea threw a spear but it missed and hit Hippolyte! Which, by the way, I don't get—you used a spear every day. You were used to the weaponry. So how did you accidentally hit your sister?"

Hippolyte chimed in. "Yes, Penthesilea, how did you hit me?"

Penthesilea glared at Aphrodite. "I'll tell the story. After I accidentally hit my sister, I was overwhelmed with guilt. I wouldn't even pick up a weapon. I went to Troy where I was purified for the deed by the king, and I was so grateful to him, I fought on his side." She looked at the table. "Then, one night we attacked the Greek camp, and I met the Great Achilles face-to-face. He was arrogant, pushy and self-centered. I was sure I could beat him. But in the end..."

"That doesn't sound very romantic." I thought aloud.

"It's not the romantic part yet!" Aphrodite exclaimed. "The romantic part is when Achilles lifts her helmet, and looks at the face of the warrior he'd slain, and fell in love at first sight." Aphrodite looked up at the ceiling in a gaze.

"Since then, he hasn't left me alone!" Penthesilea slammed her fist on the table. "He ended up coming back sooner than I did, and when I came back, he kept IM'ing me and asking me out. I always respectively declined, but did that work? No. And when Valentines day was invented... uggg. The candy, the flowers—sometimes I just wanted to strangle him. I just started ignoring altogether about... oh, I'd say a hundred years ago."

Hades rubbed his temples. "Is story time over now?" He asked. "The bottom line is, we need him here ASAP." He sounded like he didn't think I could do it.

"I'll have him here by noon at the latest." I told him, making sure to put the distaste in my voice.

"We'll have him here," Estelle corrected, saying the first words I'd heard her say all night.

"Oh...." Demeter sang. "Stella's got a boyfriend! K-I-S-S-I-N-G." She looked at me, an expression of horror suddenly filled her face. "No! I won't allow it! If he's anything like his father, he'll be a loser! I already lost Persephone to a loser, I won't lose you, too."

Both of our faces were red.

A/N Okay, I know in TLO, Rick Riordan did Achilles the complete opposite of how I said I'd portray him, but I'd like to let you all know that I will still give Achilles the same personality I told you I would. And, he'll finally be in the story next chapter.