[Reminder: The author recommends reading The Titan's Curse alongside chapters 27 and 28 to get the most out of the story.]

"Before I go, Percy Jackson, I have a small task for you."

Percy paled. "Me?"

The goddess of the hunt seemed to understand his confusion. An amused smile played at her lips. Percy knew he technically had no reason to feel worried in the presence of an Olympian–he hadn't done anything wrong, and everyone knew that now. But part of him still felt like they didn't trust him, or they thought he was a loose cannon, or they were suspicious of him, or any number of bad assumptions.

But Artemis had been so normal with him, for some reason. She had listened to his account of what the manticore had told him seemingly without distrust. And now, she had a task for him? He didn't know what to make of it.

"I know what you are thinking," she said. "I can sense your sincerity. If your father were not so wrapped up in his own ego, perhaps he could have sensed it as well."

It was a deadly accurate shot at Poseidon, but it didn't seem malicious coming out of her mouth, as if she were merely stating a fact, making an observation. Percy wasn't even offended on his father's behalf; if anything, he felt vindicated. He tried to squash down the feelings of resentment that stirred within him, as per usual.

Zoë hmphed, and his eyes grew wide. He looked from her, to Bianca, to Artemis. "Um, I don't know what you're talking about," he said carefully.

Artemis merely waved her hand. "Do not worry about them; all of my Hunters know what has happened. They are not bound to ignorance the same way Campers are. But they will keep the secret, of course."

His eyes darted back to Bianca. "But…"

"It will be alright. We can speak openly here."

He didn't understand, but she spoke with such authority that he felt certain he could trust her.

"I'm just surprised you want me to do something for you," he said, "after all that's happened. I thought the gods had written me off."

Her eyes softened a bit. "I may be deadly, young hero, but I am not cruel. I oppose cruelty masquerading as justice. I never would have chosen the route that was taken if it had solely been up to me."

His breath caught in his throat. This was the second time one of the gods had said something along those lines to him, but when Artemis said it, he couldn't help but believe it. She just didn't seem like the type.

"So, why did the gods choose this route?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. "Why go to such extremes? Was it warranted?"

She tilted her head, as if he'd struck something that she'd thought long and hard about herself. "It is all because they've allowed themselves to be corrupted by love," she said.

Percy squinted. That didn't seem right.

"They give themselves over to their baser urges," she explained, "all in the name of love, and from that love comes children. And having those children leads to egos swinging. And egos swinging leads to power struggles, and struggles for power lead to desperation for control, and out of that desperation springs cruelty. But, you see, the rotten seed is the foolhardy notion that falling in love justifies every action. Love corrupts people, young hero."

She was staring intently at him, so he nodded along. "Okay."

"Most of us have trouble seeing things clearly," she said, giving him a small, sympathetic smile. "We struggle to admit when we are wrong."

He drew in a sharp breath.

"I was wrong about you, Percy Jackson," she said, and Percy felt laser-focused all of a sudden, as if all of his senses were heightened. Again, she spoke not emotionally, but matter-of-factly, as if she were just pointing something out. "I thought at first that you had been blinded and corrupted by love, like so many children your age often become. But you surprised me. You used someone else's corruption against them to achieve a noble goal. I would never use such a method, but I can't say it upsets me." Her eyes gleamed deviously, as if they were sharing an inside joke that no one else knew. He mirrored her expression, too scared to speak lest he would say something wrong, somehow.

"I hope you do not harbor feelings of resentment toward me for my association with Olympus," she said, and a jolt of fear struck his heart.

"What? No–why would I," he said.

She shrugged simply. "For some people, one bad experience is enough. I would hope you would be more mature than that."

"I–I am," he said. "And you haven't done anything to hurt me, anyway."

She gave him an approving smile. He noticed that when she smiled, the corners of her mouth barely moved. It gave the impression that everything she felt, everything she expressed was so muted, so controlled, so poised.

Bianca was looking back and forth between their faces, looking completely lost. Zoë was scowling at the ground. Apparently, she hadn't found his supposed trick as amusing. He still wasn't sure why Artemis thought it was okay for Bianca to be privy to this conversation–she was just going to have lots of questions that he couldn't answer–but the goddess didn't seem concerned in the slightest.

"So," she said, "about this task."

~.

"My baskets!" Diamond wailed.

"My lake!" Natalie shouted, her calloused hands on top of her bandana-covered head. Thalia had driven Apollo's sun chariot straight into Canoe Lake, leaving destroyed canoes and charred woven baskets in its wake. He didn't have to hear the naiads mutter to know they were pissed.

He tried to field Nico's questions as best he could while still taking in the camp. The lightly fallen snow was new, as well as the tiny, flickering Christmas lights on the cabins. The Hunters took off for their cabin with Grover hot on their heels.

"Take care, sweethearts!" Apollo called after them cockily, then he turned to Percy and winked. "Watch out for those prophecies, Percy. I'll see you soon."

His words made Percy's blood run cold.Prophecies? Plural?Percy only just now realized, perhaps far too late, that Apollo was the god of prophecy; how much did he know? Why was he being so cryptic? And when would Percy see him again?

"What do you mean?" he asked, but the sun god had already moved on to Thalia. Percy tried to steady his nerves, but he was too on edge. He was like a tightly wound wire trap, ready to snap.

And snap, he did.

"Just because you were sent here as punishment doesn't mean you have to be a lazy jerk! This is your civilization too. Maybe you could try helping out a little!"

Percy's brash words hung in the air as firelight reflected in Mr. D's purplish, bloodshot eyes. No one said a word. The god slowly got up from his chair, never breaking Percy's gaze.

"I suppose you think I should make the most of my punishment," he said flatly, his tone so even that it made the hairs on Percy's arms stand up. "I should just keep my head down and be a good soldier and endure what was given to me, and if I grovel enough, all will be forgiven, and everyone will love me again."

Percy felt like he was frozen in place. He was afraid to react–not because of what Dionysus might do, per se, but because any response ran the risk of giving away information he was not supposed to divulge, and he knew that one slip up in front of Mr. D. would certainly spell the end for him.

The god leaned forward, curling his lips up into a snarl. "But here's the thing about punishment–"

"SO COOL!" Nico exclaimed, bursting into the room with Grover. The young boy began peppering Mr. D. with a million questions, and Chiron saw an opportunity to urge Percy and Thalia to make their exit. Percy still wasn't sure what the centaur knew, or how much, but that would have to wait until he could get him alone.

In his cabin, he was still pondering how to navigate camp life while burdened with all his secrets when he noticed something else that was new–the fountain in the corner of his room. A gift from his father, no doubt. A thank you gift for securing General Fontina's loyalty, maybe. Or perhaps it was a consolation present–a "sorry I ruined your life" gift. Whatever the case, even though Percy couldn't be bought, he still somewhat liked the idea that his father was seeking his approval now, rather than the other way around. Something about that felt vindicating.

Moments later, he was face to face with Tyson via Iris Message.

"Look! I made this!" he said excitedly, showing Percy a glowing-hot sword.

"That's really cool."

"I wrote my name on it. Right there." Tyson shuffled dangerously close to the mist to show Percy his inscription.

"Awesome," Percy said dismissively. "Listen, do you talk to Dad much?"

Tyson grew grim. "Not much. Daddy is busy. He is worried about the war."

Percy grimaced. The war that was his fault, but not really his fault, but also, in another sense, definitely partially his fault.

"Tell me what's going on," he said firmly.

Tyson gave him the highlights of what he knew, which didn't add much to what Percy had already heard. The Cyclopes were busy trying to arm the merfolk armies. Oceanus and Aigaion were making trouble, the latter summoning old spirits to protect Luke's ship, thePrincess Andromeda. Percy asked if fighting had broken out yet between the two armies, and Tyson said not yet, but soon. Percy asked when their father was going to strike, and Tyson couldn't give an answer.

"Don't worry, big brother. Daddy will make the bad guys stop. Everything will be good again." He grinned at Percy so innocently it made Percy's heart ache.

"Yeah," Percy said miserably. "I should be down there. I should be doing more."

Tyson perked up. "Yes, come down here! Be with me!"

"Not to hang out," Percy said, "to fight. I should be on the front lines."

Tyson screwed up his forehead like he was trying to think. "You could talk to Daddy. Come here. Ask him."

Percy scoffed, shaking his head with scorn. "I can't just talk to Dad, Tyson. Or come down to his palace again. Not after what happened the last time."

Tyson seemed confused. "Why not? Daddy said you didn't do anything wrong. Just a misunderstanding." He started to pout. "Just come ask him! I'm sure he'll say yes."

"I don't know, big guy," Percy said, casting his gaze to the floor. "Things are too…hard between us right now. But maybe I should try–I don't know. I just can't sit back and do nothing when it's all happening because of me."

"Because of you?"

Percy internally cursed Tyson's innocence, then felt guilty for getting irritated with him. "It's partly my fault, Tyson. You remember what happened."

Tyson indignantly insisted, "Not your fault, Percy! Don't say that!"

Percy bit his tongue. "Okay, bud."

"Don't say such bad things. You're good, not bad."

"Thanks."

As if trying to cheer him up, Tyson suddenly got an idea. "Annabeth! Where is she?"

~.

Dinner that night was pretty bleak. The naiads, now in their translucent watery forms, each smiled and waved at him as they served food alongside the wood nymphs–particularly the ones from the lake, where he had spent the past couple of hours helping them clean out canoe wreckage from Thalia's sun chariot wipeout. Sierra, a naiad from the Zephyros creek alongside Natasha, whispered "Welcome back," in her chittery naiad's tongue in his ear as she dropped off his plate. Still, they were all busy, and he was alone at his enormous table.

At least Thalia seemed alone and miserable as well. He wished they could at least sit together, but unfortunately, that was against the rules. He watched as Thalia ripped napkins into shreds and balled the shreds between her fingers. He caught her eye as she noticed him watching, and he leaned over his table and held up his fingers like a field goal. Smirking, she looked over at the head table, but neither Chiron or Mr. D. seemed to be watching, so she slid to the end of her table, took one of her napkin balls, and flicked it over toward Percy. It landed several feet to the side.

He shook his head in mock disgust. Puffing out her chest, she waved her hand and grabbed another napkin ball, taking more time to properly aim. Across from Percy, Grover sat down, munching on a tin can.

"Getting yelled at once today by Mr. D. wasn't enough for you, was it?" he said.

"Nope," Percy replied, eyes locked on Thalia.

Her next projectile landed on the table about a foot in front of his fake goal. He silently booed and gave her a thumbs down. She flipped him the bird and set up her own hand goal, beckoning him to give it a try.

"No throwing food or trash between tables, please," Chiron warned from the front. Thalia jumped.

"Yeah, Thalia," Percy said, shaking his head. A few nearby campers snickered. She glared at him with murder in her eyes, and he knew he would pay for that later.

Suddenly, Grover bleated in protest, and he saw Natasha snatch the tin can from where Grover had set it down and wander away, surrounded by giggling naiads.

"You and your trash, Percy," she teased, her voice like a babbling brook.

"Natasha!" he said firmly, springing to his feet and snapping his fingers. She turned and dropped the can into his open palm.

"Am I in trouble?" she said, batting her eyes.

He shook his head good-naturedly. "Go sink a ship or something." The gaggle of water nymphs took off with a chorus of giggles as Percy returned to his table and tossed Grover the can.

"Naiads, man," he said.

Grover was fixing him with a curious look. "They seem to like you pretty well," he said.

Percy shrugged. "Well, water is kind of my thing."

"Uh huh."

Percy tried to shake off his knowing stare. "That's just how they are, dude."

"Okay," Grover said dubiously, holding up his hands. Percy flicked one of Thalia's napkin projectiles at him.

Chiron's post-dinner announcement about Capture the Flag seemed to electrify the camp's mood, but Percy couldn't find it in himself to get up his energy. He was utterly exhausted, mostly emotionally, by the time it was lights out, but as usual, he couldn't sleep. He drilled sequences with his sword for a while and thought about Annabeth, the guilt gnawing at him from the inside out. Even though Thalia had said she probably would have done the same, she hadn't. It had been him and his stupid impulsiveness, the source of all his problems. He couldn't stand the way he loathed himself right now. He loathed himself all the time, lately.

Thinking about Thalia made him worry about her. It was the middle of the night, and she hadn't knocked on his door, so one of two things were likely true: either she was fast asleep, as she should be, or she was drinking alone and wallowing in misery in her cabin. He knew in his gut which it was.

Sure enough, when he gingerly opened her door and stepped inside, he thanked his lucky stars that he knew her well enough to duck immediately upon entry. He was wearing Annabeth's invisibility cap, but even so, her spear struck the doorframe right where his head had been and clattered to the floor. He swiped the cap off his head and held up his hands.

"I come in peace!" he said.

It was her turn to groan. "Get out of here, Jackson," she said, and he recognized the slight slur in her voice that meant she was a few shots deep.

"Not a chance," he said, reaching for the bottle in her hand. She pulled it back, then shrugged and let him take it. He took a swig.

"So, I take it we're both depressed about the same thing for once," he said, and she nodded morosely.

"I figured you'd get it," she said, plopping down on her bed.

He sat on the bed across from her and handed her back the bottle. "Don't worry, we'll find her."

She looked confused for a moment. "Oh yeah, that too. Fuck, everything's going wrong, huh."

He did a double take. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

She looked down into the bottle, a crazed gleam in her eyes. They were open far too wide, like she was bracing herself. "I'm talking about my purpose, the whole reason I'm here. The only reason Kronos wanted you to bring me back, the only thing I'm good for." She suddenly sprang to her feet and twirled around the room like a deranged person, arms flung wide. "Welcome to the end of the world as we know it!"

"Oh, shit," he said, "the prophecy."

She laughed, her eyes bugging, and tilted the bottle against her lips. Some of the gin dribbled down her chin, but she didn't seem to notice. "No, I'm glad you're here. Drink up, Percy, there's only so many more chances we'll have to talk like this before it all goes to shit."

He grimaced. "Fuck. One week, huh?"

She cackled again, and Percy was struck by how eerie she sounded. He had once called her unstable. Compared to now, that old version of her seemed like the picture of mental health.

"I don't know why I thought I had more time," she said, her body periodically wracked with laughs, like spasms. "I should have seen it coming. I knew when my birthday is. I just thought, for some reason, I'd have more time."

He ran a hand through his hair. "You know, I gotta say, you have the worse end of the deal. At least if it had been me, I'd know exactly when to expect it. But you were surprised, basically ambushed with it. That's fucked up."

"That's fucked up!" she agreed. "I know!"

"For what it's worth," he said, "you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. I have no doubt you'll make the right call."

She rolled her eyes, and he surmised that it had sounded as fake as it felt. Sitting and watching her now, it was hard to tell himself that she was of sound enough mind to save Olympus, much less tell her that.

"I'm like a twelve-year-old in the body of a fifteen-year-old. Sixteen-year-old. Whatever," she said bitterly. "I'm about as mature as you."

He scowled. "Cheap shot. I'm on your side, don't come after me."

"Sorry. I'm just pissed. I get to be pissed right now."

"Yeah, but if you start going after the people in your corner, then you make me question your decision-making skills."

She swiped at his ankles with her foot. "Shut up, Seaweed Brain." Hearing Annabeth's nickname for him was like a twisting knife. It felt wrong coming out of anybody else's mouth.

They sat in testy silence, both brooding and passing the bottle back and forth. Finally, Thalia belched.

"My life is going to completely change," she said contemplatively, "one way or another."

He nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, but the only way out is through."

She blinked rapidly, looking at the floor. "That's not true."

"What?"

He squinted at her, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. He didn't like what she was implying.

"People tell me things sometimes," she said cryptically, "ways to get out of things. To get out of aging, reaching sixteen. I'm sure they did the same to you before."

He thought back. "The only thing I can think of is when Chiron said once that the future would be in my hands one day, and Mr. D. said, 'Unless he dies.'"

She snorted. "Yeah, like that."

"So, what? You want to give up on life now?"

He wasn't quite sure why he had blurted that out, but he didn't regret it. He didn't want to push her over the edge, of course, but he was feeling confrontational, and it rubbed him the wrong way that she would even consider throwing her life away.

"Hey, I didn't say that," she said, stumbling to her feet.

"You didn't have to." He rose as well.

She scoffed. "What do you even care."

"No, don't do that," he said, pointing his finger at her. "Don't act like I haven't been there for you since the very second you came back, always the one to comfort you and listen to you bitch and moan and talk you off the ledge."

Her eyes flashed. "How dare–"

"You and I are the same, Thalia," he cut her off. "You said that to me. I get you. I know you." She scowled, dropping his gaze. "Everyone worships you, they all think you're the best thing since me. They don't have a single doubt you're going to save them all because you walk around like the big shot you are." He closed in. "Only I know how scared you are. And I know why you can't show anyone else that. But you'd be an idiot to think that nobody cares about you. If nobody knows the real you, it's because you don't let them inside. But I understand you better than anyone, and I know what it's like to be truly alone. But there's always a way out."

She breathed heavily for a moment, her chest rising and falling, her nostrils flaring, and then she squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't want to take the way out," she said.

"No, I meant like, a light at the end of the tunnel," he said. "Like, that you'll make it through."

"But what if I don't want that?" she insisted, her eyes snapping open. "I know what will make it all better, make me not feel this way, what everyone tells me is the 'right' decision, but what if I think it's bullshit? Maybe I just want to suffer."

He hesitated. He wasn't quite sure what they were talking about anymore. "Do–do you still mean the prophecy?" he said, unsure.

"Yes. No. I don't know," she snapped. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters, and everything matters, and everyone matters except me, and I hate it here." She turned and kicked her bedframe. "And I hate the fucking Hunters, especially."

"Okay, sure, yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "What is your deal with Zoë anyway?"

"No," she said flatly, "off limits."

"Okay, worth a shot."

"A shot," she echoed. "I need a shot."

He was a little anxious about her drinking more in this state. He knew she wasn't paying close attention to her pouring in the dark, so when she raised the shot to her lips, he commanded half of the liquid to fly out of the glass and back into the bottle in the blink of an eye. Sure enough, she didn't even notice as she gulped it down.

"Here, your turn," she said. He pounded a shot back, wishing it would actually make him drunk. But he chastised himself in the next instant, telling himself that it was better this way so that he could look out for Thalia with a clear head. He didn't want her to do anything stupid.

"Thalia, I know you're going to be mad at me, but I don't care," he said, and she looked at him with a warning in her eyes. "I don't want to see you go. I'd be torn up if you died. I don't want to lose any more friends."

She blinked again, averting her gaze.

"Please understand, your life means something to me," he said quietly. "You mean something to me."

She crinkled her nose, then composed her face and punched him in the arm. "Okay." She took a deep breath, and then another one, her exhale growing shaky. "You need to get out of here before I get emotional, Percy."

"No, no, I'm sorry," he said.

"No, it's fine. I promise I won't do anything stupid. I just need to be alone right now." She pushed him toward the door.

"Okay, but I have your promise," he said. She smirked, then did something surprising and hugged him. He gripped her tightly.

"Now go to bed," she said in jest, "Mr. Camp Rule Enforcer."

He rolled his eyes and opened the door. "Hey, what was I supposed to do? You should have been sneakier."

"Chiron kiss-ass."

He left her behind in her cabin with a third of a bottle of gin left and uncertainty about the near future.

~.

Percy had just about reached his limit.

It wasn't enough that he was relentlessly resentful, constantly combative, sleep-deprived and self-loathing; he had to have a terrible nightmare about Annabeth. The blows just kept coming: Annabeth was in grave danger, and she had been considering leaving him for the Hunters anyway, and Thalia was trying to assert her dominance over camp all day, and he hated the one person he could actually confide in. So, he did the only thing he knew to do when his prophetic nightmares became too difficult to bear.

Standing now, face-to-face with the mummy, Percy felt like a candle that had just been snuffed out. Eerie silence hung in the air. The attic smelt vaguely of moth balls and death. Percy waited, blood pressure rising, but the Oracle made no move, uttering not a sound. Feeling his anger reach a boiling point, he snarled, "Alright, fine, I'll figure it out myself!"

Mere hours later, he found himself back in that attic, setting the ancient, disgusting corpse back on its stool. He wiped his brow.

Between huffs and puffs, Grover gave Percy's chest another cautious glance. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the infirmary, dude?"

Percy scowled and pressed his hand against his chest. The force of not one but two blows from Thalia directly to the mark had caused blood to gush, dousing the front of his shirt. That pain had not only opened up the wound, but it had also opened the floodgates of his rage. He didn't care if everyone hated him, if he fucked up today or tomorrow or a thousand times until no one wanted him around anymore; he was going to find Annabeth. That was the only thing that seemed to matter anymore.

"No."

"But–"

"I'm fine!"

The look on Grover's face was almost enough to make Percy feel bad for snapping, but he didn't have it in himself anymore. He was on the warpath.

When he made it down to the rec room, Connor Stoll was explaining to Chiron that all of the Ares campers were in the infirmary.

"Which is where Percy should probably be," Travis said, gawking at Percy's shirt. Everyone's eyes lasered in on him.

"Percy, do you need nectar and ambrosia?" Chiron asked.

"I'm fine," he growled.

"Or stitches?" Travis muttered.

"I said I'm fine."

Chiron hesitated. "If you're in pain–"

Without breaking eye contact with Chiron, Percy pulled the top off of the water cooler against the wall and stuck his hand out, bidding the water to climb up his arm and down his shirt, flooding the wound on his chest. Chiron stopped mid-sentence and watched. The water seeped into Percy's skin, and although it couldn't heal the mark itself, it did make the open cuts disappear, pulling some of his blood back inside him. He stomped over to the ping pong table.

Thalia stared briefly at his blood-stained shirt, then looked down, biting her lip. She sat next to him, though, while the head councilors decided what to do about this prophecy.

Percy brooded in silence until suggesting that the questing party be split three and two between Hunters and campers, respectively. He prodded Chiron as to what monster could be the dreaded bane of Olympus the Oracle had warned about.

"None of them quite make sense. Typhon, for instance, could fit this description. He was truly a bane of Olympus. Or the sea monster Ketos. But if either of these were stirring, we would know it. They are ocean monsters the size of skyscrapers. Your father Poseidon would already have sounded–"

"Wait, did you say Ketos?" Percy interrupted. Chiron blinked curiously at him. "The enormous whale dragon thing?"

Chiron's jaw dropped–something Percy had never seen before. "Percy, has Ketos returned?"

"Um, was he ever gone?" He looked around at everyone staring at him. "I think you've got it wrong, Chiron. My father wouldn't sound the alarm over any Ketos."

Chiron slowly closed his mouth. "Percy, I don't know what you've heard, but Ketos is extraordinarily dangerous. He terrorized your namesake."

Percy snarked, "Yeah, well my namesake and my father didn't exactly get along."

Dionysus suppressed a smile over his goblet of Diet Coke.

"And they love sons of Poseidon. They're loyal servants of the king. Er, the sea god."

"Percy," Chiron said cautiously, "did you say, 'they'?" He looked like he had seen a ghost. "If he has multiplied, somehow–"

"Chiron, I've met two Ketea," Percy said irritably, cutting him off again. "There are many of them all around Poseidon's kingdom. I'm telling you, they serve my father. They're not going to attack him or anyone loyal to him. Trust me."

Chiron studied Percy in astonishment. In fact, it seemed like everyone was. Percy felt his irritation rising the longer the silence stretched on.

Finally, with a smirk, Mr. D. said, "Oh, yes, I think I've heard that," his voice dripping in amusement.

Chiron nodded, as if he were finally ready to accept that as truth, which only added to Percy's frustration. "Then this Ketos is likely not the monster we seek. I fear this monster may be more elusive, perhaps even more powerful."

Percy slumped back in his seat while the campers began to pick apart the rest of the prophecy, line by line.

"'One shall perish by a parent's hand,'" Grover said, his mouth full of food. "How is that possible? Whose parent would kill them?"

His words shot through Percy like an icy chill.No, it doesn't make sense for it to be me,he thought as his heart began to race.My dad had a perfect chance to kill me, but he did everything he could to prevent it. If he wanted me dead, I would be.

Still, he knew how all the other Olympians felt about his life. He glanced at Mr. D., but the wine god wasn't looking at Percy or seemingly paying attention anymore at all, flipping through a magazine. He did notice, from the corner of his eye, that Thalia was looking at him, however. He understood the wary look in her eyes better than anyone. He knew, deep down, if it was going to be anyone, it would most likely be one of them.

Still, mere minutes later, he found himself on his feet demanding to go, arguing with an indignant Zoë, who was adamant that boys were not allowed on her quest.

"What about Grover?"

"He does not count. He's a satyr. He is not technically a boy."

"Hey!" protested the goat.

"I have to go," Percy insisted. "I need to be on this quest."

"Why?" Zoë asked provocatively. "Because of thy friend Annabeth?"

Heat rose to his cheeks, but he wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or enraged. Zoë had no right to say Annabeth's name–or to call him out like that–but it was more than even just Annabeth. Percy felt like this quest was a slight glimmer of hope in his otherwise bleak world right now. He finally knew how he could prove his worth to the gods, prove they had been wrong about him, even make them regret the way they had treated him. He had done a quest for his brother and proven himself that way, and even Artemis seemed to respect him more when she had given him a task. This quest was going to be his redemption. And his chance to save someone he cared about very dearly.

But, as always, things could never go his way.

He ranted to Anastasia instead of going to dinner, drilling sequences with his sword down in the cave while he talked to get out some of his aggressive energy.

"I actually think a rescue mission is a noble mission," she said, "probably the only kind I wouldn't despise. But I know you'd still find a way to turn it into another war."

"Hey," he warned.

"Don't threaten me," she snapped. "I can feel your anger. It's pissing me off."

"So, do something about it," he challenged, stopping his drills to face her, swinging his sword idly.

She jutted out her chin. "Attack me, if you think that will make you feel like a man. Carve me up. You know I won't fight back."

He shook his head, disgusted. "You're so self-righteous. Talking to you makes me want to slit my own throat."

"Who's stopping you?"

They glared intensely at each other, chests rising and falling in unison.

"You're impossible to be around," he finally spoke.

"Well, bye, then," she said, throwing up her hands and stomping away. He thought about following her and yelling, but then decided that he'd rather be alone.

Chiron and Grover found him drilling more sequences in his cabin. Somehow, their heart-to-heart didn't make him feel any better.

"Now, good night, Percy," Chiron said, moving toward the door. "And your time will come. I'm convinced of that. There's no need to rush."

Percy suddenly remembered his punishment. He didn't know how to broach the topic with Chiron, but he figured now was as good a time as any to figure out what he knew.

"Um, Chiron?" he said. The centaur paused in the doorway and looked back at him, and Percy rubbed his arm, unsure of what to say. "'One will die by a parent's hand.' Do–well, do you think…"

Chiron nodded knowingly. "Ah, my boy, listen to me. I don't pretend that the gods are particularly affectionate," he said, his tail swishing, "but I know enough about your father to know how he feels toward his children. Don't confuse his silence for apathy. He would never do anything to hurt you." Chiron gave him an encouraging smile. "And I'd bet anything that he's proud of you."

Percy swallowed a lump in his throat. "Thanks, Chiron."

The centaur gazed at the young demigod, his face etched with care. "Is anything else bothering you, Percy?"

"No. Thanks."

~.

"Going somewhere?"

Percy tried to kick at the grapevines slowly snaking their way around his ankles, but it was no use. Mr. D. leaned against the Chrysler building, hovering in midair, arms crossed.

God alert!warned Blackjack.It's the wine dude!

Dionysus's eyes flashed. "The next person,or horse, who calls me 'the wine dude' will end up in a bottle of Merlot!"

Percy's heart began to pound. Alone with a god who knew what he had done and despised him. "Mr. D.," he said, trying to keep his cool, "I was just going home."

Mr. D. rolled his eyes. "You're a liar, Perry, and not a very good one at that." He approached Percy, walking on air. "I tried telling my brothers and sisters that, but they never care for my point of view. Never mind that I've had the displeasure of suffering your company for two summers now."

Percy gritted his teeth. "I'm not a liar."

"Did you really think you could sneak out under the nose of the immortal, all-powerful camp director without being caught?"

"Well…maybe?"

"Let me get something through your soft skull: you will always be caught," Dionysus sneered, his face contorted into a snarl. "I should throw you off this building, minus the flying horse, and see how heroic you sound on the way down."

Percy balled his fists. If he was going down here, might as well go down in a blaze of glory. "I am a hero! I've been nothing but loyal despite being distrusted and tortured and unfairly punished. What do I have to do to prove myself to you people? And why won't you let me even try?"

Purple flames flashed in the god's eyes. "Believe it or not, Johannsen, there are things that matter more than repairing your shoddy reputation. You do not get free reign to do whatever you please."

"No, it's not even about that," Percy protested. "I have to go to save my friends! But I guess you wouldn't understand that."

Percy ignored Blackjack's protests, deafened by the roar of blood rushing in his ears. "I'm not the bad guy because I care about people," he grumbled.

Something behind Mr. D.'s eyes seemed to snap. "Did I ever tell you about Ariadne?" he said testily. "Beautiful young princess of Crete? She liked helping her friends, too. In fact, she helped a young hero named Theseus, also a son of Poseidon. She gave him a ball of magical thread that let him find his way out of the Labyrinth. And do you know how Theseus rewarded her?"

Percy knew he was being baited, but it was so hard to resist the urge to snap. "They got married. Happily ever after. The end."

A cruel smile spread over Dionysus's face. Somehow, Percy got the feeling that he had taken the bait. "Not quite. Theseus said he would marry her. He took her on a boat ride that was supposed to deliver them. But, halfway back, on a little island called Naxos, he–what's the word you mortals use today–he dumped her." His lips curled into a sneer. "Sound familiar?"

Percy blinked, bidding his brain to think through what the wine god was saying rather than imagine holding him at swordpoint.Familiar…

"You think that's what I did?" he blurted.

Gone was Mr. D.'s cruel smile, replaced by a face of utter disgust. "You heroes, you sons of Poseidon especially, are all the same. You all carry yourselves as if you're inventing heroism, but you're utterly predictable." He jabbed his finger at Percy for emphasis. "I found her there, you know. Alone. Heartbroken. Crying her eyes out. She had given up everything, left everything she knew behind, to help a dashing young hero who tossed her away like a broken sandal."

Percy felt his stomach twist up inside him. He wanted nothing more to deny it, to scream that he hadn't done anything remotely like that.

"You don't know me as well as you think," he simply said. "Or her, for that matter."

"No, I think I do know her," Mr. D. said flippantly. "I fell in love with Ariadne, boy. I healed her broken heart. And, when she died, I made her my immortal wife in Olympus. She waits for me even now. I shall go back to her when I am done with this infernal century of punishment at your ridiculous camp."

Percy blinked. "You're–you're married? But I thought you got in trouble for chasing a wood nymph–"

"My point is you heroes never change. You accuse us gods of being vain. You should look at yourselves. You take what you want, use whomever you have to, and then you betray everyone around you. So, you'll excuse me if I have no love for heroes. They are a selfish, ungrateful lot. Ask Ariadne. Or Medea. For that matter, ask Zoë Nightshade."

"What do you mean, ask Zoë?"

With a wave of his hand, the vines uncurled around Percy and his pegasus steed. He could hardly believe it.

"Go. Follow your silly friends. Set your sights on yet another girl to ruin."

"You're…you're letting me go? Just like that?"

"The prophecy says at least two of you will die," he said dismissively. "Perhaps we'll all get lucky and you'll be one of them. But mark my words, Son of Poseidon, live or die, you have already proven yourself to be no better than the heroes who came before you. Once you show your true face, it is nearly impossible to come back from that."

He disappeared, folding in onto himself like paper, leaving Percy to follow his fate.