"Relax, I just want to talk."

Luke gestured to the seat across from him. They were in someone's bedchambers–a stateroom aboard thePrincess Andromeda. Percy glanced around him warily, but the golden sarcophagus was nowhere to be found.

The fingers on Percy's right hand twitched, itching to draw his sword, but he hesitated. This wasn't real; it was a dream. He was pretty sure attacking Luke wouldn't matter. He had no desire to talk to this traitor, but–

Traitor.Percy's body went rigid.He's the real traitor! I don't deserve for people to treat me like him.It seemed so unfair that Luke had actually betrayed his father and all of Olympus and was living it up on a cruise ship, while Percy was treated like a criminal and outcast and hadn't even done anything to harm the gods. Eyes narrowing, he lowered himself into the chair.

Luke smiled. "See? That wasn't so hard." He took a sip out of a can of soda, eyeing Percy with amusement. "I think you've been avoiding me."

Percy stared at the table.

"Do you remember your third night at Camp Half-Blood, Percy?" Caught off guard, Percy looked up at the older boy and was surprised to see genuine concern in his face. "Or maybe fourth. Third? Fourth? Or so, something like that." Bewildered, Percy slightly shook his head. Shrugging, Luke continued, "Well, I do. You were so scared and upset about your mother. It must have been terrifying–she wasn't really dead, but she wasn't really there either, and it seemed like there was nothing you could do about it." Luke gazed past Percy, a faraway look in his eyes. Percy furrowed his brow, thinking back to then. It felt like ages ago, even though it had only been about a year and a half.

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You were having trouble sleeping then, too. Do you remember that?"

Blinking, it began to dawn on Percy what Luke was referencing.

The older boy continued. "I mean, sleeping on the floor didn't help, I'm sure. But I remember that night, I couldn't sleep either, and I heard you mumbling for a few minutes, and then you sat right up and started sniffling." Percy internally cringed. Yeah, it was all starting to come back now. "And I decided to go over and check on you–I don't always do that, you know; there were just so many kids in that cabin that if I did, I would never sleep. But I knew there was something different about you, something special. And I think I saw a little bit of myself in you."

Percy recoiled.

"I know you probably don't want to hear that," Luke said, leaning back, his eyes drifting to the floor, "but it's true. We're birds of a feather, you and me. You're like a younger me. Trust me, I know."

"We are nothing alike," Percy said through gritted teeth. He hated how childish his voice sounded in comparison to Luke's.

Luke looked at him sadly. "I'm afraid we are, Percy."

"No," Percy protested, balling his fists.

"Think about it," Luke pressed gently. "You and I are both natural leaders. We're both scrappy and brave and great swordsmen. And you probably don't realize this yet, but you have the same natural charisma that I do. It doesn't always show, but that's why you have to nurture it, be intentional about it. You could really charm people, if you put some effort in."

Percy scowled. He had never thought of himself as charming or charismatic or even a leader. He felt like this guy couldn't be more wrong.

"And you and I both have a strong sense of justice," he continued, and Percy's eyes narrowed. "We care deeply about right and wrong, about defending what's fair and getting rid of what isn't."

"Let me stop you right there," Percy said, waving his hand. "You're not going to manipulate me like you do everyone else. If we're so similar, then don't treat me like any other stupid kid."

Luke smirked. "See what I mean? You can see right through me. We understand each other."

"No, I'm just not as dumb as some people think."

"I don't think you're dumb, Percy," Luke said. "But I do think you're naïve. And that's okay! You're young. I was still trying to find my place in relation to the gods at your age. But a little naïveté is only okay up to a point."

Luke leaned against the table as if he were going to let Percy in on some life-shattering truth about the universe. Voice low, he uttered, "There comes a point in every man's life when he's forced to confront the way the world really works. When he ceases to be a boy and loses whatever hopes he might have for an ideal world, or a perfect family, or a just system. When the Fates grab him by the throat and choke the innocence out of him."

Percy froze. He could hear his own heartbeat.

"You are at that point. You've been dealt a harsh lesson in the gods' callousness, far more directly than most of us ever are. You know exactly what they're capable of and exactly how little they care for us." Luke's eyes were wide, unblinking, and intense. "When that happens, you're faced with a choice: are you going to continue to play a charade, pretending you're content to let them walk all over you and use you in their petty little proxy wars and pissing contests? Or are you going to man up and stand up for all of the other people they've hurt?"

Percy had never felt more conflicted. That was the problem with listening to Luke: he always said things that sort of had a point. His words struck at something true, something raw, and they stirred up feelings in Percy's chest that he had been trying so hard to suppress for these past few months. Things weren't okay; it wasn't right, the way his father punished people, the way the gods treated their children, the way they took people for granted. If his father hadn't been so concerned about his image, then perhaps none of this would have shaken out the way it did. Percy was a tool to him, a vanity project, even. And even though he didn't want to serve the titans, he knew he could no longer pretend like everything on Olympus was fine.

Percy lifted his chin defiantly. "I will always stand up for hurt people. But I won't join your cause."

Luke's eyes flashed angrily for a second, but just as quickly, he composed himself. "What? Why not?"

"The gods may have their flaws," Percy began, "but if they can improve, then things can get better. Justice can be restored that way."

Luke shook his head. "No, you're still thinking as if you're confined to their worldview. The whole system is corrupt, Percy. It can't be cured from the inside; it has to be overthrown."

"I don't believe that," Percy said, "and even if I did, what would replace it? A system where titans rule supreme over all of nature?"

"The titans recognize the gods' flaws," Luke said defensively. "Remember, they're older and wiser than them. They ruled over an era of peace. They were only overthrown because the gods got greedy."

Percy scrunched up his forehead. "An era of peace? Says who? Weren't there, like, no humans at all yet?"

"Exactly," Luke said. "Probably one of the gods' biggest mistakes was creating mortals. They are too much like the gods in all the wrong ways, and they're too ignorant to even recognize all of the suffering they cause." The older boy spoke so bitterly. Percy wondered why.

"You know, if mortals were never created, then you and I wouldn't exist."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "So? If it meant that the world would be better off for it, then I don't see that as a bad thing."

Percy shook his head. "Well, they're here now, and no truly just system would punish them for simply existing."

"What about for all of the wars and greed and hate?"

"Well, the solution can't be to wipe them out," Percy protested. "Or to, like, torture them. That's just cruel, and cruelty isn't justice. Trust me, I know," he said over Luke's objections, tapping himself on the chest. The blond-haired boy grew quiet. "That's why–one of the reasons why I can't get behind the titans. That's what Oceanus wants to do. He wants to give sea monsters free reign over the mortal world, allowing them to punish mortals for pollution and global warming."

Luke's gentle façade had completely faded away. He looked angry and wild. "Well, don't you care about those things? About what mortals have done to the sea you love so much?"

"Of course," Percy said, "but what Oceanus has failed to do is suggest any plan to actually fix the problem. Punishing mortals might sound great to monsters as a form of revenge, but it won't get rid of the garbage or chemicals in the sea. Oceanus just wants to increase the amount of hate and violence and death in the world without putting anything good into it. That's not justice. That's vengeance."

Percy sat back and crossed his arms. Luke silently stewed, his handsome features contorted into a mask of rage.

Finally, he said, "Do you remember what you said to me? That night, way back when?" Percy thought back, taken off guard once again. Luke continued, "You told me, 'This doesn't feel right. It's not what I thought having a father would be. I'd just rather everything be normal.' And do you remember what I told you?" Percy did, vaguely. Luke didn't wait for him to respond, though. "I told you, 'I hate to tell you, but things are going to get worse before they get better. But the only way they're going to get better is if you look out for the people who look out for you. And those people aren't always who they should be.'"

Percy remembered. He had thought Luke seemed so wise back then. Back then, he had felt certain that Luke was one of those people looking out for him.

"Who looks out for you, Percy?" Luke said, a challenge in his voice. "The people who scar and brand you, who still, to this day, won't be honest with you about what lies in store? Or the person who tells you like it is, without sugarcoating the truth, and trusts you to make the right decision in the end?"

Luke sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, scowling. "I'll give you some time to think about it. What's your legacy going to be, Percy Jackson?" And with that, he snapped his fingers, and Percy awoke at the bottom of a lake in the secret cave.

Anastasia sat several yards away, picking at her fingernails. Percy groaned, not bothering to hide his contempt. After the roller coaster he just went on, he did not want to have to deal with her first thing after waking up.

"Creep," he muttered. "Why were you eavesdropping?"

"It's not like I have anything better to do down here," she said, not bothering to look up. "It's like free entertainment."

"Hope you enjoyed the show," he grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach and checking his watch. He had slept until almost three in the afternoon.

"Why wouldn't I enjoy watching two idiots in a dick-measuring contest," she retorted.

He winced. "Jeez, that's not what was happening," he griped. She shrugged. He reluctantly pushed himself upright, stretching the stiffness from his limbs. "You should be on my side, if anything. I told him your father just wanted to add more violence to the world. I denounced violence. You should be jumping for joy right now."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, tool. You don't give a shit about abolishing violence. You intend to use violence to stop them."

He threw his hands up. "Well, if they're using violence, then don't we have to respond in kind? Isn't that basic self-defense?"

She scoffed. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"I don't."

That's not the zinger you think it is.

"So, what would you say," Percy challenged, pissed, "if it were you. What's the solution? How do you end the corruption?"

She finally looked up, and he could tell he had touched on something that had occupied a lot of her thoughts while she was alone down here. "I think maybe we've reached a point where humans can govern the world themselves," she said, a gleam in her eye. "You know how you told me about meeting Medusa, and she said she was the only one of her sisters to remain because they had been forgotten? They can't be the only ones that has happened to. Immortals can cease to exist if they become useless, forgotten. Yet, the world persists on. If humans and nymphs and naiads and other nature spirits really commit to keeping the natural world going, taking care of it, then it would make immortals obsolete. They would peacefully fade from existence, and we would all be better off for it."

Percy considered her words for a moment, then forcefully shook his head. "No, I think that's just a pipe dream. I think there's some things that they just can't do on their own. I mean, how is the sun going to travel across the sky? What about keeping monsters in check?"

She scrunched up her face. "I haven't worked out all the kinks yet," she said, "but you at least have to admit, it's a much better system than the current options."

"I don't think so," he said. "I think the ideal solution is to have the experienced, powerful gods control their respective kingdoms and just make them kinder, more caring people. Bring them into the twenty-first century."

She sneered. "And you think MY idea is far-fetched."

"I think your idea is naïve," he said. "You can't overthrow systems or resist titans or gods through nonviolence–they'll mow you down without hesitation. Your philosophy is just pretentious suicide."

"You're wrong," she said, her voice rising. "I haven't died yet."

"Because you went into hiding the second you made any powerful enemies! You might be powerful, but you can't play keep-away forever. If you were to go back out there and encounter any immortals, you'd learn really quick just how foolish your strategy is."

She stood up. "That's the thing you don't realize about me," she said, seething. "I would be willing to die for my ideals. I would gladly lay down my life rather than cause physical harm to another living being."

"Oh, I understand that very well," he said, rising as well. "And you wouldn't really get a choice. Brute force beats pacifism every time. Your philosophy is a dead end; as long as the bad guys are using violence, then pacifists will never win. If all of the good people lived by your philosophy, then the bad guys would always beat them, and the good guys would all get killed off, and then no one would be left to live by your stupid philosophy anymore. Do you see how it's unsustainable?"

She flicked her tail angrily, as if stomping her foot. He knew he had really pissed her off. "You're impossible!" she exclaimed. "You're still thinking in terms of good guys and bad guys. They've brainwashed you to think that way so you can morally justify taking a person's life, but the world doesn't work that way. There is no inherent good or inherent bad. Not even in so-called monsters."

"Then what about the gods?" he pushed. She sucked in her cheeks and glared.

"Well, answer me this," she said slowly. "If you think the gods can be changed for the better without fighting them, then why can't the titans?"

"Because–"

"No, they're the same. When it comes to how they grab power and how they maintain it, they're the same. The only difference is you crave the gods' approval."

"Well, at least I believe that some of them can improve," he said bitterly. "I haven't given up all hope like you."

"Give it time," she said flippantly.

"Go to Tartarus," he muttered, swimming away as she flipped him off.

He didn't want to be around her, but he didn't want to go home yet, and more than anything else, he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. He decided that keeping busy was the best way to preoccupy himself, so he spent the rest of the day in The Wasteland. Peleus had been busy all day looking for the other water guardians in the rubbish. He apparently could control the currents as well, but his powers were much more limited compared to Percy's. He tunneled through the garbage heaps by using water pressure to compress on the pile. Alone, he had only found one, but with Percy's help, they freed all of the water guardians around the entire perimeter of Long Island. Percy noticed with pride that the cleanest portion of the seafloor was directly below Camp Half-Blood. He and the water guardians and several nereids they had picked up along the way gathered in this portion, in a pocket of clean water Percy created below the Camp shore, and discussed what to do next.

"Strong currents won't be enough to dislodge all of this," said one tall guardian with a long ponytail and a colorful tattoo of a merman choking a snake on his right shoulder. The tattoo didn't look like a regular tattoo–it was shimmery and iridescent, and the colors looked like an Impressionist painting. He, along with all of the water guardians, wore a muted sea-green vest with markings stitched over the breast. Percy didn't know the markings were words until he realized he could read it, though not without the same difficulty that accompanied reading Ancient Greek. After having stared at the vests for several hours, he surmised that they all said something along the lines of "Coast Guard: NA Chapter," and each one had a different rune that was meant to be a number. On the backs, they read, "Forever Reigns the King." A few of them had scratched that part out.

Some of them muttered assent, and Ponytail continued, "It'll take no less than a hurricane to move it all."

Uproarious protests rang out as many of those gathered yelled over each other, to both Ponytail and Percy.

"Are you mad?"

"No, my lord, do not listen to him–"

"And scatter this filth across the whole sea?"

Ponytail yelled over all of them, "Better to dislodge it and have it floating on the surface than to waste away beneath it!" He cut his eyes to Percy amidst the murmurs. "That way, at least, the mortals can take a good look at what they've done. It'll be their problem to remove."

"No, it'll be our problem to inhale," one of the nereids countered, and another one coughed for good measure. "Not to mention all of the creatures that would choke on it."

"I don't want to become any sicker," piped up another nereid with faded purple tresses cascading to her waist.

"None of us do," Peleus said, and with a wave of his arms, the crowd grew quiet. Percy felt a bit undermined by his gravitas. He wanted to be able to project that kind of authority.

Peleus eyed Percy critically. "Let us not make requests that ourfriendhere cannot fulfill." He spat out the wordfriend, the sarcasm biting. The casual condescension made Percy's blood boil.

"Can you even make hurricanes, Perseus?" one of the nereids asked him.

Her friend beside her nudged her and whispered, "Don't use his name! You'll make him mad."

Percy shook his head, waving his hands to quiet the din. To his surprise, everyone grew silent waiting for him to speak, their eyes examining him warily from his face to his chest. "Of course I'm not mad. Everyone is welcome to call me Percy."

A guardian with a buzz cut scoffed. "I thought you were the king's son," he said.

"He doesn't get respect anymore," another guardian said tauntingly, nodding toward Percy's chest. "He knows that."

"Well, if his father doesn't respect him," Buzz Cut said with a smirk, "then why should I?"

"Now, now, that's enough," Ponytail said, moving to Percy's side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You may say that he's not worthy of our respect because the king discarded him to the trash heap with the other rubbish," he began, to several derisive laughs, and he boomed, "but I say he's alright because he pissed off the king!"

A few of the guardians cheered, while some others held back smirks. The nereids looked mostly uncomfortable. He caught Calli's eye, hoping for some reassurance. She looked nervous and overwhelmed. He was just about right there with her; he didn't know how to lead these people. Luke had been dead wrong about him. He was way out of his depth.

A short guardian with a scar on his right cheek called out over the raucous laughter, "Is it true you married an Oceanid?"

The nereid next to him slapped his arm. "I didn't say he married her, idiot!"

Buzz Cut did a double take. "That's not a crime, is it?"

Clearing her throat, Calli piped up, "She wasn't an Oceanid–"

"Yeah, I heard she was a Siren!" a short, red-headed nereid with a nose ring called out.

"No, she was definitely the daughter of the Great River," said a nereid with long blonde hair woven into braids. "That was the whole problem."

A teenage-looking guardian with a mullet made a face like he had just figured something out. "Oh, and he knocked her up," he said, as if it all made sense.

Percy had just about reached his limit. "Alright, ENOUGH," he shouted, pushing Ponytail away. Some of the guardians chuckled derisively, while yet others jumped, but the crowd quieted down. "We're not going to talk about what I've done. I've answered to the king for what happened, and that's the only person I'll answer to. What's in the past is in the past."

"Agreed," Calli piped in, to Percy's relief.

A few mutters passed through the crowd, but most of the taunters had now averted their eyes. A young guardian, looking not much older than Percy, raised his hand. Percy blinked in surprise, and the teenager seemed to take this as a go-ahead, for he blurted out, "Have you met him?"

Silence permeated the water. Someone pitched into a coughing fit near the back. Percy looked around at all of the eyes trained on him, most curious, some shifty, and tried to mask his confusion. "Who?" he asked.

The boy said, "The Great River."

A few of the guardians and nereids shifted uncomfortably. As Percy scanned the crowd, some of them turned their faces away from his gaze. He took a deep breath.

"Yes," he admitted.

Gasps and whispers broke out. A few of the shifty-eyed people looked at each other with intrigue.

"He's shorter than you might expect," Percy said, stunning a few people into chuckling. "And not much of a conversationalist."

A few of the nereids snickered. Percy could feel the tension in the water relax slightly. He glanced at Calli, who finally smiled at him, and he felt like as long as she was on his side, he must be doing something right.

"I know what some of you have heard about him, but whatever idea you have of what he used to be, forget it," he commanded. "His long rest in the ice has changed him. He's not the gentle father figure he was once known to be. The titan I met has become hardened, cruel, and manipulative." He looked around at all of their faces, hoping his words were sinking in. "I know there have been stirrings lately, and he's making a lot of shiny promises. There's no substance there. He won't do anything for the people of the sea–he certainly won't clean up these beaches. All he plans to do, all he wants, is vengeance. He thinks he can use your anger to control you."

He looked around and saw a lot of hard faces staring back at him. Looking to Calli for reassurance, he continued, "I know a lot of you are angry. You have every right to be. But vengeance won't make your lives better down here; it'll only add to the suffering." He lifted his chin. "And I know a lot of you don't trust me right now. And I get it, that's fine, for now. But I'm still the son of Poseidon." A jolt seemed to pass through the crowd as he said his father's name. "And there hasn't been one of us in a long time, and in that time, your quality of life has suffered. I can change that. I will change that. I swear to you."

For an agonizing moment, there was silence. Then, Calli stepped forward and said, "I can vouch for him." He smiled at her, overflowing with gratitude. "I have known him for a while, since even before his…crime," she said. "He might bear the mark of one, but he's no traitor. I would trust him with my life."

A couple more nereids stepped forward. "We've watched him from time to time along the shores of Montauk," one of them said, giving him a shy smile. "I don't know much about him, but his aura always seemed pure." The guardian with a cheek scar rolled his eyes at the mention of auras.

"It's true," said yet another nereid who seemed slightly less sick than the rest. Percy realized with surprise that he had seen her before, in the water at the Camp Half-Blood beach. She had curly chestnut-brown shoulder-length hair and freckles. "I have watched his training for two summers. He has twice become a hero of Olympus. I just think it doesn't make sense that he would betray them now."

Scar-Cheek moaned in disgust. "Well, of course, the females all believe him," he said, prompting the nereids to explode in a flurry of anger.

"What is that supposed to mean, huh?" Blonde Braids challenged while her sisters yelled at him and shook their fists.

Scar-Cheek waved his hands, motioning for them to settle down, to their ire. "I mean, there's a reason you girls are so willing to trust him," he said provocatively. "You know what I'm talking about. We've all seen this before, it's nothing new. Just admit it."

Percy had never seen someone offend so many women at once. Even mild-mannered Calli seemed incensed. Arguing broke out between the guardians and the nereids. Everywhere Percy looked, he saw people yelling and pointing and waving their hands. Some of the guardians seemed to take the nereids' side, distancing themselves from their brothers and staying quiet. The young one who had asked Percy about Oceanus caught the demigod's eye and offered him a sheepish smile. Percy couldn't return the gesture, though–he was too despondent about the state of the crowd. This was not going how he hoped at all.

He shouted, but no one seemed to hear him. He thought about drawing his sword to get their attention, but then decided that that might send the wrong message. Squeezing his eyes shut and looking inward, he focused on the broiling frustration brewing in his gut that never seemed to disappear. It grew in intensity until he wasn't sure whether it was internal or external anymore. Finally, as if boiling over, the water around the crowd and the seafloor beneath shook with a tremendous boom. Several people grabbed hold of each other to keep from being thrown through the water, and the arguing died down as everyone cast apprehensive glances at Percy.

"Enough!" he yelled. "We're not here to fight, we're here to figure out how to clean up the shore."

Ponytail stepped forward. "Look, I don't give a shit that he hasn't betrayed the gods," he said, looking at Percy even though he was addressing the crowd. "Or the king in particular. With the way things have been going for us, I'm honestly not sure that I trust someone who's on the king's leash. Decades I was trapped under there, and did the king ever do anything to help?"

Several heads swung back and forth between Ponytail and Percy, waiting to hear his response. Percy honestly wasn't sure if he could counter that, but he figured he had to try to pull something out of his ass.

"That's because for decades, my father hasn't had any demigod children," he said. "He does care, deeply, but he has a whole kingdom to run. But demigods, we're extensions of him, and it's our job to take care of the things that he can't–that he doesn't have time to," he added hastily. "And he hasn't had any of us for a long time. I'm the first one since the 1940s."

A few disgruntled murmurs swept through the crowd. Peleus stepped forward, arms crossed. "I hear you saying that you care, and that you're going to do the right thing by us, Perseus," he said cautiously, looking at Percy with perhaps a budding respect, "but not that the king has directed you to. If the king has no part in what you're doing here, then why should your good deeds persuade us to pay loyalty to him?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Peleus," Scar-Cheek warned, approaching Percy with audacious bravado. "He hasn't made good on those promises yet, and it seems clear to me that he doesn't even know what he's doing." Percy bristled at the accusation, in no small part because it hit close to home. Scar-Cheek invaded his personal space, getting close to Percy's face, ignoring the way Percy's eyes flashed angrily at him. "Admit it, Perseus: you're weak," he said, jabbing his finger at Percy's chest.

What happened next, Percy found hard to explain. His anger already at a tipping point, when he saw the merman's finger thrust toward the mark, he saw red. Time seemed to slow down. It was as if the very idea that someone would touch the mark triggered something inside him, and that something exploded outward. An enormous gust of water barreled into Scar-Cheek's chest, and he flew backwards, mowing down people who didn't have quick enough reflexes to get out of the way. He rolled through the water, and when his momentum finally ceased, he snapped upright, rigid, and the water around him cooled, leaving him immobilized in ice. Speechless, the crowd, now parted into two halves on either side of the path Scar-Cheek had taken, looked from the guardian to Percy. He couldn't tell if their faces showed awe or fear.

"Don't touch me," he growled, his voice forceful and clear. He addressed the crowd. "I am working to gain your trust–I'd even like to be your friend–but as I said, I'm still the son of Poseidon." He locked eyes with Scar-Cheek. "Never forget that."

Percy released him from his icy bonds, and he gasped, shivering. The purple-haired nereid rushed to him to check on him, but the other girls didn't seem that upset that Scar-Cheek had been made an example. Percy's anger ebbed, and as his adrenaline evened out, he started to regret lashing out. That wasn't like him; he wasn't a scary guy. He worried that he might have ruined any chance that these people would grow to like him. But, judging by their faces now, it seemed like the silver lining was that they respected him a little more for his display of strength.

"Don't underestimate my abilities," he said. "I have the power to clean the shore, and I do it in my father's name. On behalf of the king, these waters will be clean!" He raised his fist, and it was as if a chill passed through the crowd. "I could do it alone, but it'll go much faster if we all work together. That's why I want your help."

An older guardian with leathery tan skin and thick black hair knelt, folding his tail beneath him, his black beard peppered with a few streaks of gray. "What shall we do, my lord?"

Buoyed, Percy lifted his chin and glanced at Peleus.

"I think I have an idea."