III. PERCY

Six months later

Percy wasn't sure what he was expecting after six months of being trained by a wolf goddess, but it definitely wasn't this.

The morning sun beat down on his shoulders as he walked along the outskirts of Berkeley Hills, his backpack feeling heavier with each step. There wasn't really much he was carrying— a change of clothes, spare sneakers, two Mars bars and an old chess set he'd found at the Wolf House. But it was more his thoughts that seemed to drag him down.

Six months with Lupa had changed him in ways he couldn't fully describe. His muscles were leaner. His senses sharper. His ability to sleep on cold dirt without complaining had improved significantly.

But he still felt…empty.

The name "Annabeth" stirred something in his chest—a hollow ache that felt both fresh and ancient. He remembered golden curls and stormy gray eyes. He remembered the way his heart had once quickened at her smile. Now it just felt like pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurt. (It did.)

You'd think six months was enough to get over a girl. But Percy didn't want to get over her. Not really. Besides, he'd had a lot more to think about anyway. The world had just gotten a whole lot bigger.

Lupa had confirmed what he'd suspected: there were two camps. Two entirely separate groups of demigods who apparently hated each other's guts. Greeks and Romans—mortal enemies for centuries. Hidden from each other. But also related on the godly side. It turned out, the godly side was just one big not-so-happy family.

"Why keep them apart?" Percy had asked Lupa that morning as they stood at the edge of the Wolf House, the mist curling around their ankles. The wolf goddess had stared into the distance, her silver eyes uncharacteristically weary. "Because when they meet," she'd said, "it usually ends in war."

Great, Percy had thought. Just what I need. More war.

Now, as he walked along the dusty path that would supposedly lead him to Camp Jupiter, Percy found himself wondering what exactly he was walking into.

Romans. A whole camp of Roman demigods. Would they wear togas? March in formation? Quote Latin phrases at him until his brain melted?

"I don't even like Italian food," he muttered to himself, which wasn't true, but complaining felt good. Normal. Like something the old Percy would do.

The old Percy. As though he were thinking about someone else entirely. Maybe he was.

He paused at the crest of a hill, looking down at the sprawling city of Berkeley. Somewhere beyond it lay his destination. The place the gods thought he needed to be, even if it meant—

Percy's jaw clenched. Even if it meant losing Annabeth.

Percy had a bone to pick with Aphrodite. Or Venus. Whatever.

"Focusing on the quest," he reminded himself, shaking off his thoughts of love and loss. The quest had to be important enough to justify all this, right? The gods wouldn't just ruin his life for laughs. Actually, they definitely would. But he had to believe there was more to it this time.

Lupa had given him one last chance to turn back that morning. Percy had declined. After the entire six moths. If he was going to lose everything, he at least wanted to know why. What was this curse that was so important that he had to go all the way west to stop it? And what did that have to do with Gaia?

The path dipped down toward a tunnel entrance in the distance—the Caldecott Tunnel, if he remembered Lupa's directions correctly. Just a few more miles and he'd be there. Camp Jupiter. New demigods. New problems. Maybe some friends, if he was lucky.

Percy adjusted his backpack and continued walking, his hand instinctively touching Riptide in his pocket. The familiar weight of the pen was comforting, one of the few constants in his currently very inconstant life.

He was maybe a quarter mile from the tunnel when the air around him turned sulfurous.

Percy's combat instincts kicked in before he could process what was happening. He dove sideways just as something massive crashed into the spot where he'd been standing.

Rolling to his feet, Percy uncapped Riptide and whipped around. The creature that had nearly flattened him was readying itself for another attack, and Percy had to jump just as a shower of acid spray hit the ground he'd been standing on a moment ago.

A hydra.

Scratch that—a big hydra. Like it had taken steroids or something. This one was huge. Like, monster-truck-with-extra-heads huge.

GRAAAAK!
Percy wasn't fluent in Hydra. But he was pretty sure that meant, "Die, puny demigod!"

"Seriously?" Percy groaned, glancing towards the tunnel just ahead. "I'm almost there!" The hydra's main head swiveled toward him, poison-green eyes narrowing. Its eight other heads followed suit, nine pairs of eyes all focusing on Percy. There was something off about the way it was looking at him, as if it had been specifically waiting for him.

"Let me guess," Percy said, circling cautiously. "Someone told you I'd be coming this way?"

The hydra answered by spewing a jet of acid that melted a nearby boulder into steaming goo.

"Just checking," he muttered.

The monster lunged, all nine heads attacking in a coordinated pattern. Instinct took over. Percy dodged and weaved, slashing at the necks that came too close, but carefully avoiding cutting any off. He remembered that much from his training—cut off one hydra head, two more grow back. Unless you had fire, which he definitely didn't.

The hydra's tail whipped around, catching Percy in the chest and sending him flying into a tree. The impact would have shattered the bones of a normal human. Percy felt like he'd run into a particularly firm pillow.

He got to his feet, assessing the situation. The hydra was between him and the tunnel. No backup in sight. No fire source. And while he couldn't be injured, the hydra didn't need to injure him to kill him. It just needed to wear him down until he was too tired to fight. The curse made him invulnerable, not inexhaustible.

Percy needed water. A quick scan of his surroundings revealed nothing but dry California hills.

Think, Percy.

The hydra charged again, this time with three heads spewing acid while the others tried to bite chunks out of him. Percy ducked, rolled, and slashed. He managed to avoid the worst of the acid, though a few drops sizzled through his jeans, stopping just short of his skin. He wasn't sure if the Curse protected him against acid, but he didn't exactly want to find out either. If he could just reach the tunnel—

Percy made a break for it, sprinting toward the distant entrance. The hydra, surprisingly fast for its size, cut him off with alarming ease, as though it had anticipated his move.

"Fine," Percy muttered, tightening his grip on Riptide. "You want a fight then."

He closed his eyes for a split second, focusing on a feeling a familiar tug in his gut. There had to be water somewhere. Underground springs. Moisture in the air. Abandoned sewer lines. Something.

The tug came faintly—water, far below the surface. Percy grit his teeth and pulled.

The ground rumbled ominously. The hydra paused in its attack, heads swiveling in confusion. Percy kept pulling, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort.

With a crack like a gunshot, the earth split open in a jagged line, and a geyser of water erupted between Percy and the hydra. The force of it knocked the monster back several yards, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

"Okay," he panted, "new plan."

Percy glanced at the still-gushing water, reaching out again, but this time, instead of forcing it upward, he directed it to spread across the ground in a thin sheet. The hydra stepped back, wary. It was smart enough to know that water wasn't exactly it's element.

With one last heave, Percy dropped the temperature of the water, freezing it instantly into a slick sheet of ice that spread beneath the hydra's many feet.

GRAK—?

The monster, unprepared for the sudden change in terrain, slipped and crashed to the ground, its multiple heads smacking into each other like a game of Exploding Snap. Percy didn't waste the opportunity. He charged forward, sliding across the ice and driving his sword into the hydra's belly—the one part of it he could safely attack without triggering the head-regeneration problem.

GRAAAAAAAK!

The hydra let out a monstrous shriek that echoed across the hills, thrashing wildly on the ice. Percy held on to Riptide, pushing it deeper, twisting it to inflict maximum damage. For a moment, he thought it wasn't going to be enough. The hydra's thrashing grew more violent, its heads snapping at him. Percy's arms burned with the effort of holding on, and his muscles screamed in protest.

Then, abruptly, the monster went still. Its eyes glazed over, and with a sound like air escaping a balloon, it dissolved into yellow dust that scattered across the ice. Percy collapsed to his knees, breathing hard.

The curse of Achilles was definitely taking its toll. He felt like he could sleep for a week, but unfortunately sleeping wasn't an option. The hydra attack had only confirmed what Lupa had warned him about—something was waiting for him at Camp Jupiter, something important enough that forces were actively trying to prevent him from getting there.

With a groan, Percy got to his feet, capped Riptide, and continued toward the tunnel entrance, his legs feeling like they were made of lead.

As he approached the tunnel, Percy noticed two figures standing guard at a maintenance door to one side of the tunnel. They wore jeans and purple T-shirts, like they were part of some summer art club, but their postures were unmistakably military. Definitely Roman.

They spotted him almost immediately, their hands moving to weapons at their sides. Percy raised his own hands instead, flashing a peace sign.

"Stop right there!" the taller of the two called out. He looked unique, like a baby face that had been somehow fused with a body-builder's body.

Percy stopped, partly out of respect for protocol and partly because his legs were threatening to give out.

"Lupa sent me," he said.

The guards exchanged glances. The second guard, a girl with blonde hair and brown eyes, studied Percy with intense scrutiny. "You smell bad. And your aura is weird."

"Right," Percy nodded. "That's not me. That's the hydra."

The girl's eyebrows shot up. "You fought a hydra? Alone?"

"It wasn't by choice," Percy assured her. "Look, can we do the interrogation inside? I'm about to fall over."

The male guard frowned, but the girl nodded. "I'm Gwendolyn Stacy," she said. "This is Frank Zhang. Follow us, but don't try anything funny. Camp Jupiter doesn't take kindly to spies."

"Percy Jackson," he replied. "And I'm not a spy."

As they walked into the tunnel, Percy noticed the buff demigod—Frank— glance back at him with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. "Hydras don't usually hang out in Berkeley Hills. You must have some powerful enemies."

"Story of my life," Percy muttered.

They emerged from the service tunnel into dazzling sunlight, and Percy found himself staring down at a valley that definitely hadn't been visible from the highway. A small river flowed across their path, beyond which lay what looked like a miniature city straight out of Ancient Rome, complete with coliseums, forums, and aqueducts. Percy blinked several times, wondering if what he was seeing was actually real. There was no way a place could have that many demigods…right?

"Welcome to Camp Jupiter," Gwendolyn said, a hint of pride in her voice. "That's New Rome in the distance."

"It's… big," Percy managed, his exhausted brain struggling to process what he was seeing.

"Home to about two hundred demigods," Frank informed him. "Plus a few hundred legacy families in the city itself."

Percy tried not to show his shock. Two hundred demigods? Camp Half-Blood had barely managed forty year-round campers.

"You'll need to be inspected by the praetors before you can enter camp proper," Frank continued, leading the way toward the river. "That's the Little Tiber ahead."

"Praetors?" Percy asked.

"Camp leaders," Frank explained. "We have two. Well, we're supposed to have two. Jason and Reyna. But Jason…" His voice trailed off, a shadow crossing his face.

"What about Jason?" Percy prompted.

Gwendolyn sighed. "He disappeared a few months ago. No one knows where he went. If he doesn't return soon, the legion will have to elect a new praetor."

Percy frowned. That sounded like a jerk move. "So I'll be meeting with… Reyna?" he asked.

Frank and Gwendolyn exchanged another look.

"Yes," Frank said carefully. "Reyna's our current sole praetor. She's, uh…"

"Intense," Gwendolyn supplied.

"I was going to say terrifying," Frank admitted. "But intense works too."

Percy knew this drill. "Jason was the good cop, I'm guessing?" he asked.

Frank's eyebrows shot up. "How did you know that?"

Percy shrugged. "Lucky guess. There's usually a good cop/bad cop dynamic in leadership."

As they approached the river, Percy felt a strange tingling sensation spreading across his skin. The Curse of Achilles was reacting to something, sending warning signals through his nervous system. Suddenly, he remembered Lupa's words: "The Curse of Achilles is a Greek blessing. Roman soil may not recognize it."

Percy looked down at the Little Tiber flowing before him. The water should have called to him, welcomed him as a son of Poseidon—or Neptune, whatever. Instead, it seemed to be… challenging him. Testing him.

Without explaining himself to Frank and Gwendolyn, Percy stepped forward into the river. The moment his foot touched the water, pain seared through his body like liquid fire. It was as though every nerve ending had been doused in acid.

"My dude, we have boats here—and he's walking into the water."

The curse was dissolving. Percy could feel it peeling away from his skin like a layer of burning wax. He gritted his teeth and continued forward, ignoring the other two demigods behind him.

Frank called out something behind him, probably wondering why Percy was walking into a river fully clothed, but Percy barely heard him over the roaring in his ears. Halfway across, the water around him stirred, coalescing into the form of an old man with a long beard and a crown of reeds.

"I have not seen a child of Neptune in many years," the river god said, his voice like water cascading over rocks. "You bring change with you, Perseus Jackson. Change and danger."

Percy wasn't sure how the river god knew his name. "Nice to meet you too," he managed through clenched teeth, continuing his painful journey across the river.

By the time Percy reached the other bank, the curse had completely burned away, leaving him feeling simultaneously lighter and more vulnerable than he had in months. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, breathing hard.

Frank and Gwendolyn rushed to his side, concern evident on their faces. They'd taken the boat.

"Are you okay?" Gwendolyn asked. "What happened?"

"How are you dry?" Frank frowned.

Percy took a deep breath, mentally cataloging his body. No invulnerability. Check. Regular demigod again. Check. "I'm fine," he said, getting to his feet with an effort. "Just… adjusting."

"Percy. You walked into the Little Tiber. Without getting wet," Frank pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah," Percy nodded. "I can do that. Son of Neptune. I forgot you guys didn't know that."

Gwendolyn and Frank exchanged a bunch of glances again, though these Percy couldn't decipher. The fair-haired demigod seemed deep in thought for a moment, looking at Percy like he was some sort of weird bug. "We should get you to Reyna," she said finally. "She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

As they led him toward the camp, Percy took in the sights of New Rome. It was beautiful, impressive, and extremely confusing. Annabeth would have loved the place.

Whatever was waiting for him here, whatever quest had been deemed important enough to turn his life upside down, Percy hoped it would be worth it. Because from the way Frank and Gwendolyn were nervously glancing at each other as they approached what looked like central headquarters, he had a feeling things were about to get a lot more complicated.