VIII. PERCY
Guard duty outside of Camp Jupiter was not one of Percy's top 10 favorite activities of all time. Heck, it wasn't even one of his top 50 favorite activities of all time.
Standing still for hours, staring at the same stretch of road, trying not to doze off—it was torture. At least the Berkeley hills offered a decent view when the morning fog wasn't obscuring everything. Like it was now. If he was lucky, Percy could see an occasional blue car cross the interstate.
He stood at the entrance of Caldecott Tunnel, the morning mist just beginning to burn away under the California sun. Percy shifted his weight, trying to find a comfortable position in the standard-issue Roman armor. He still had his own lighter leather armor from Camp Half-Blood stashed underneath his bunk, but he couldn't wear that on guard duty because it violated Section VII Sub-Section IX of the Legion's Handbook.
"Your armor's crooked again," Callie said, nudging him with her elbow.
"It never fits right," Percy complained, adjusting the straps for the hundredth time. "It feels like I'm wearing a metal refrigerator."
Callie laughed. She was technically his superior—a decanus of the Fifth Cohort—but she never made him feel that way, something Percy liked about her. Her dark curly hair was pulled back in a regulation bun, and, unlike him, she wore her armor like she'd been born in it.
"You'll get used to it," she said, though he doubted it. "Hopefully sooner than you learn to fight like a Roman."
Percy's felt his throat go dry. "Yeah…I, um, I like to focus on fighting techniques from around the world."
"Clearly." Callie's amber eyes studied him with that unsettling intensity she sometimes had. "Though it doesn't explain why you still grip your sword like a Greek."
"Like a Greek?"
"Your stance. Your grip." Callie demonstrated, her hands up as if she was holding an imaginary sword. "Romans fight with our gladii as extensions of our shields—stab, don't slash. But you," she swung her hands around. "You swing wide. You use the edge as much as the point. Classic Greek technique."
Percy forced a casual shrug, though his pulse hammered in his throat. Outside of Reyna, no one knew he wasn't actually a Roman demigod. "Lupa taught me to use whatever works."
"Hmm." Callie didn't look convinced, but she let it drop. "Well, 'whatever works' got you here, and I can't argue with results. I still remember how you took down that hellhound. Single-handed, with that weird bronze sword of yours."
Percy remembered the skirmish. It wasn't a big deal. He'd just been at the right place at the right time. "Just did what anyone would do."
"No," Callie said, her voice softer. "What you did was reckless, undisciplined, and completely un-Roman." A smile played at the corner of her mouth. "And it saved Dakota's life."
"The legion values discipline above all," Callie continued, brushing dust from her armor, "but results matter too. That's why you made it from probatio to full legionnaire in record time." Her gaze returned to Percy's face, searching. "You fight like no Roman I've ever seen, but whatever you are, Jackson, you're effective."
Percy turned back to survey the highway stretching before him, unsure of what to say. It wasn't like he could tell her he'd spent the last five years fighting Titans and monsters.
Ahead, Berkeley sprawled in the distance, the mortal world oblivious to the demigod outpost hidden by the Mist. Eight months, and Percy still found it disconcerting how close New Rome was to mortal civilization compared to the isolation of Camp Half-Blood. The only good part was that barely anyone noticed, thanks to the Mist. Cars whizzed around on either side. Almost no one except hikers and really lost pizza boys came all the way through the maintenance tunnel.
He sighed in boredom. "You think it'll be as uneventful as the last six times we've pulled this duty?"
"Gods, I hope so. Boring is—" Callie froze mid-sentence, her head tilting slightly. "Do you feel that?"
Percy had already uncapped Riptide.
There was a pressure in the air, and Percy's instincts screamed warnings at him. "Something's coming." He quickly scanned the highway where heat mirages danced across the asphalt. "Something big."
"How big?" Callie had drawn her gladius, her body automatically shifting into the defensive stance drilled into every Roman legionnaire from their first day of training.
Percy didn't answer immediately. He was reaching out, trying to answer the same question. The ground beneath his feet held a faint tremor. The air smelt of sulfur and decay.
"Remember that hellhound I killed?" he finally said.
"Yeah?"
"Whatever's coming is way bigger. Like way bigger."
The air before them shimmered and distorted. The Mist was being torn aside like tissue paper. Where the empty highway had stretched seconds before, an army now materialized.
The front line consisted of empousai—vampire women with flaming hair and gleaming fangs, their mismatched legs—one bronze, one donkey—creating an unsettling, jerky gait. Behind them came a dozen Laistrygonian giants, eight feet tall with arms like tree trunks, wielding makeshift clubs studded with rusted metal and wicked spikes. Dracaenae slithered in between, bronze tridents and metal bows clutched in their scaled hands. But it was the creature at the center that made Percy's blood run cold.
A hellhound paced like a lion waiting to strike. It was massive—easily twice the size of Mrs. O'Leary—with fur so pale it was nearly translucent. Its eyes were a milky, ghostly white, as if it was blind. Its massive head swung toward Percy, sniffing the air forcefully.
"By all the gods," Callie breathed, her knuckles white around the hilt of her gladius. "What is that thing?"
"Trouble," Percy answered. "Big trouble. Trouble senior. The father of trouble."
As if to agree, the white hellhound raised its muzzle and released a howl that seemed to vibrate through his bones.
"We need to warn the camp," Callie said, reaching for the horn at her belt.
"Not here." Percy placed a hand on her arm, his eyes never leaving the advancing horde. "That hellhound—it's tracking something."
"What?" Callie looked from Percy to the monsters and back. "Why would it—"
"I don't know," Percy cut her off, setting his feet in a fighting stance. "You need to get back through the tunnel. Warn Reyna and the others. I'll hold them off as long as I can."
Callie stared at him like he'd suggested they invite the monsters to dinner. "That's suicide, Jackson. And since when do you give orders to your decanus?"
"Come on!" Percy argued. "You really want to pull rank now? You're the faster runner, Callie!"
"I'm not leaving you to face that alone," Callie replied. "We stand together."
Percy wanted to argue further, but the monster army was closing distance rapidly. The white hellhound had already broken into a loping run. It reminded Percy of the dogs he'd seen running around Camp Jupiter. Only, this one was way bigger and wanted to kill him.
"Fine," he conceded. "We move five paces ahead. Slow them down, then fall back through the tunnel together. The narrow space will force them to come at us a few at a time."
"That," Callie said, raising her gladius, "sounds better."
The white hellhound reached them first, launching itself into the air like a massive monster truck. Percy rolled to the side, bringing Riptide up in a defensive arc that caught it across its side as it sailed past. Usually, that was enough to kill a monster. This time it merely carved a shallow wound that leaked golden.
"That's not good," Percy muttered, regaining his footing. Regular monsters didn't bleed ichor. Only immortals did.
The hellhound rounded with uncanny speed, its blind eyes somehow fixed on Percy's position. It stalked forward deliberately now, massive paws silent on the asphalt, muscles rippling beneath its fur.
"Keep back," Percy warned Callie, who had dispatched an empousa and was now facing off against another. "This one's different."
"No kidding," she grunted, driving her gladius through the empousa's heart. The vampire woman exploded into dust with a shriek.
Percy ducked beneath another empousa, dispatching it with a quick stab through the side. To his right, Callie threw a dagger at a dracaena that was loading her bow.
"We can't hold here much longer," she called over her shoulder, deflecting a trident thrust.
Percy knew she was right. For every monster they destroyed, two more seemed to take its place. And the white hellhound was still stalking him, circling just beyond the front lines, as if waiting for an opening.
"Fall back to the tunnel!" Percy yelled, cutting a charging giant's knee with a sweeping slash. The giant tipped over and fell, fortunately between Percy and the remaining monsters, giving him some time to catch his breath. "I'll cover our retreat!"
Percy ran back up. At the mouth of the tunnel, he felt the familiar tug in his gut. A water main ran beneath the highway. Probably the same one that he'd busted the last time he'd been ambushed here. It must have been repaired by the local authorities.
"Get inside the tunnel," he told Callie. "I'm going to buy us some time."
As Callie retreated deeper into the tunnel, Percy faced the oncoming horde. The white hellhound had pushed to the front again, its milky eyes fixed unwaveringly on him, like he'd personally stolen it's last dinnerbone or something.
Percy closed his eyes for a split second, focusing on the water beneath the earth. He focused on how he needed it to come up. To push. To rise against pressure. Work against the gravity.
The ground began to tremble, softly at first, then with increasing violence. Fractures appeared in the asphalt. The monsters hesitated. Even the white hellhound paused, its head cocked as if listening.
With a final surge, Percy forced the water main to rupture explosively. A geyser of pressurized water shot upward, drenching the front ranks of monsters. At the same time, he pushed his senses towards the tunnel ceiling just inside the entrance, and pulled.
CRASH!
It wasn't the best plan, but he'd managed to cause a cave-in that brought tons of rock and earth crashing down, effectively closing the tunnel entrance. Callie quickly pulled out a torch from one of the stands nearby.
"That was…" she seemed at a loss for words.
"Yeah," Percy managed between breaths. "Got us a few minutes. That won't hold them long."
A muffled howl came through the pile of rubble, followed by the sound of rocks being shifted and clawed aside.
Percy sprinted through the darkness of the tunnel, the emergency lights casting eerie shadows along the walls. He could feel his lungs start to burn but there was no time to rest. That white hellhound had been tracking him specifically.
"Why do you think they're after us?" Callie asked as they neared the tunnel's far exit. Daylight gleamed ahead, and she quickly turned off the torch, tossing it to the side.
"No idea," Percy lied. He had several ideas, and none of them were good.
The tunnel emerged into the valley. The Little Tiber gleamed in the sunlight, and in the distance the buildings of New Rome rose like a bunch of well-decorated sandcastles.
"We need to warn them," Callie said, already reaching for the horn at her belt.
Percy glanced back at the tunnel. The sounds of pursuit had grown louder—scraping claws, snarling, the occasional crash as more debris was cleared away.
"How long do you think we have?" Callie asked, following his gaze.
"Minutes, maybe less," Percy estimated. "That hellhound… it's determined."
Callie raised her horn to her lips and blew three sharp, clear notes—the signal for imminent attack.
The response was immediate. Across the valley, figures began pouring from barracks and buildings, assembling with the practiced efficiency that had made Rome the ancient world's greatest military power. Percy could even hear some of the shouts all the way here.
"GET ME MY BOOTS!"
"HARRY! WHERE ARE MY PANTS!"
"AVRIL! YOU SAID I COULD WEAR THE HELMET THIS TIME!"
"They'll never form up in time," he groaned.
Callie's expression hardened. "Then we'll have to slow the monsters down further." She turned to him. "Your water powers. The river—can you use it?"
Percy looked toward the Little Tiber. "I can use it," he confirmed, already moving toward the riverbank. "But I'll need time to concentrate."
"I'll buy you that time," Callie said resolutely.
Percy quickly ran up to the Little Tiber, feeling strength flow into him the moment his skin made contact with the current. The river was ancient, its waters flowing through this valley since long before Rome itself was founded.
BOOM!
Percy heard a sound like canon-fire. He looked up just in time to see the white hellhound burst through the tunnel. It paused, sniffing the air, before charging down the path, the horde of monsters following in its wake.
Callie met the charge shield up, gladius extended in perfect position for a thrust. But the hellhound simply bowled her aside with its massive shoulder, barely slowing as it fixed on its true target: Percy.
"Now would be good!" she shouted, scrambling back to her feet to engage a dracaena that had slithered past the hellhound.
Percy extended his awareness into the river, feeling its currents, its depth, its potential energy. The Little Tiber responded eagerly to his will, the water beginning to churn and rise around him.
Percy focused on how he felt: angry.
It was all his fault another monster horde had found Camp Jupiter. It had already forced Callie into danger. He had friends here now. There were kids— demigods, legacies. Families. He had to protect it. Protect them all.
He'd promised Reyna. Not again.
The water responded to his will. Percy raised his hands, and the river rose with them—a massive wall of water that towered twenty feet high, stretching across the approach to the camp.
The white hellhound skidded to a halt. The monsters behind it bunched up in confusion.
"You want to kill me?" Percy screamed. "Braccas meas vescimini!*"
Percy sent the wall of water crashing forward.
The wave slammed into the monster army with the force of a freight train, sweeping away the smaller creatures and knocking the Laistrygonian giants off their feet. Only the white hellhound stood its ground, bracing itself, though even it was pushed back several yards.
As the wave receded, Percy felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. Creating and controlling that much water had drained him more than he'd anticipated. He staggered slightly, one knee dipping into the river as he fought to maintain consciousness.
"Legionnaire Jackson! What's going on?"
Percy looked up to see Reyna on her pegasus, her purple praetor's cape billowing behind her as she descended from the sky.
Behind her, the legion had formed up along the riverbank—shields locked together, spears bristling. Reyna flew over them, sword in hand. She reminded Percy of that a Chiron had told him once about Valkyries. Beautiful, divine warriors who were deadly in battle.
"Fall back," Reyna ordered, guiding her pegasus to hover above him. "The legion will handle it from here."
Percy nodded. He waded unsteadily toward the shore, where Callie waited to help him sit down a little away from the action.
"That," she said as she supported his weight, "was insane. You just redirected an entire river."
"Not the entire river," Percy panted. "Just… borrowed some of it."
Before Callie could respond, Reyna's voice rang out across the battlefield: "Legion, form testudo!"
The response was immediate. The front ranks raised their shields overhead while the flank ranks lifted theirs to the sides. It was a defensive posture designed to withstand arrows, spears, and even the weight of enemy soldiers. Percy had trained in those formations for a month now, but watching it executed at full scale was different. The legion moved like a single organism. It was pretty cool.
The monster army had recovered and had begun regrouping. The white hellhound paced at the forefront, shaking off water from its pale fur, its eyes still somehow fixed on Percy's position behind the Roman lines. If there was one thing Percy knew, it was that dogs hated baths. And he'd just given a huge dog an even bigger bath.
"What is that thing?" Reyna demanded, as she quickly flew back over them. "And why is it so fixated on you?"
"No idea," Percy yelled.
The monster army charged. They crashed against the Roman formation like waves against a seawall. The legion held firm, spears thrusting through gaps in the shield wall to dispatch any creature that came within reach. A few got through and injured some of the demigods, but they were quickly killed off.
The tide of battle quickly turned. Though they had been taken by surprise, the legionnaires fought better. Gradually, the monster army began to give ground, retreating back toward the tunnel. All except the white hellhound, which prowled the edges of the battle, constantly tracking Percy's movements, as if waiting for something.
Finally, when a bunch of arrows began to land near it, it raised its head and released one final, haunting howl. The sound reverberated across the valley, causing even Reyna's pegasus to falter momentarily. Then, it turned and loped back toward the tunnel, the surviving monsters falling in behind it.
"THAT'S RIGHT!'
"RUN AWAY, YOU LOSER!"
"ROME! ROME! ROME!"
The Romans raised victory cheers as their enemies retreated, but Percy couldn't shake the uneasiness that had settled in his chest. What was going on? Why had the monster army ambushed them? Why was the hellhound after him?
"They may be back," he said quietly to Callie and Reyna, who had quickly landed nearby.
"And we'll be ready," Reyna replied, her dark eyes tracking the monsters' retreat. "But first, we need to understand what we're facing. That white hellhound was no ordinary monster."
No, Percy agreed. It wasn't.
Percy couldn't sleep much that night.
He sat alone on the roof of the Fifth Cohort's barracks, staring up at the constellations that wheeled slowly across the California sky. The same stars shone over Camp Half-Blood, he knew. He could see the Huntress.
His fingers found Riptide in his pocket. It was his only remaining connection back home. That, and the camp beads. He'd gotten into a lot of jokes for that, being called Priscilla Jackson and all, but Percy wasn't going to let anyone take the beads away.
"You should be resting," a voice said from behind him.
Percy didn't need to turn to know it was Reyna.
"Not tired," he lied, as she settled beside him on the clay tiles. Without her ceremonial armor and cape, dressed simply in jeans and a white t-shirt, Reyna looked younger. Her eyes were deep and thoughtful, almost obsidian in the dim light, yet somehow warm despite their intensity. Percy found himself tracing the graceful curve of her neck as she tilted her head toward the stars, before quickly glancing away toward the horizon.
He wasn't sure why she was wandering around the barracks, or why she'd decided to give him company, but he didn't question it. There was something comforting about her presence beside him, even though she didn't fully trust him yet.
"Your display today was… impressive," she said after a moment of silence. "The water, the earthquake. The legion was very impressed. Quite a few offerings to Neptune today."
Percy smiled tiredly. "Well…as long as my dad is happy, I guess."
"You friends definitely are," Reyna remarked, frowning as some of the clay stained her shirt. "You've relieved the Fifth of stable duties for a month."
Percy grinned. "Now that's good news."
She sighed. "I hope the talks about how you fight differently die out soon. I've enough secrets to keep."
Percy tensed. That was not good. "Different how?"
"You fight like no demigod they've ever seen," Reyna said bluntly. "Your instincts, your techniques—they're unorthodox. Effective, but unorthodox."
"Lupa trained me differently," Percy offered. Not an amazing explanation, but it wasn't the worst.
"Perhaps." Reyna didn't sound convinced. "But sooner or later they're going to find out, Percy."
His hand tightened around the camp beads around his neck. The two camps had been kept separate for centuries for a reason. He didn't know why. All he hoped was that the friends he'd made here wouldn't think less of him if they found out he wasn't a Roman. Like Eww a Greek kill him or something.
Before he could formulate a response, Reyna continued: "Whatever the truth is, you saved many lives today. The legion doesn't forget such things. I can get them to stop asking questions. At least for a while."
The tension in Percy's shoulders eased slightly. His secret was safe, at least for now.
"The senate is meeting tomorrow to discuss the attack," Reyna said, changing the subject. "It was unprecedented. Monsters don't organize like that without leadership."
"They were following the white hellhound," Percy noted. "And it seemed to be following me."
"You think it was tracking you specifically?"
Percy hesitated, then nodded.
Reyna's expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps this is the sign we've been waiting for. For the quest to start."
"Maybe," Percy agreed. "When I first came here, all I wanted to do was leave and start on the quest. But now…I don't know."
"Sometimes the responsible thing is to wait," Reyna remarked.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Doesn't make it any easier, though."
A shooting star passed across the night sky. Percy made a wish.
A cool breeze blew through his hair. Then a warm breeze. Then a hot breeze. Then a really hot breeze. The air turned several degrees hotter. The entire roof turned yellow like Apollo had accidentally turned on the sun. Indoors. At night.
"Demigods."
Percy turned to a see a woman standing directly behind him. She wore a goatskin cloak that would have looked fashionable in the third century. Her stern face was framed by dark hair woven with gold threads. A crown of golden laurels crossed her forehead. She also had peacock feathers. Lots of peacock feathers.
"Lady Juno," Reyna immediately stood and bowed. Percy remained seated, his expression hardening as he recognized the goddess. "Hera."
Juno's mouth tightened at his use of her Greek name, her eyes flashing. "Perseus Jackson. Still as insolent as ever, I see."
"You're the one who sent me here," Percy countered, finally rising to his feet, though he deliberately didn't bow. "Lupa told me. Or are you going to deny it again?"
The air around him crackled. "Watch your tone, demigod. I am not someone you want as an enemy."
"Too late for that," Percy muttered, but he kept quiet after Reyna shot him a glare.
The goddess surveyed them both. Her expression reminded Percy of his old English teacher, Mrs Harris, when he failed an exam.
"I expected better from the Romans," Juno sniffed. "A monster army at your doorstep is not enough to prompt action? What more do you need—invitations delivered by Mercury himself?"
Reyna's face remained carefully neutral, though Percy could see the tension in the set of her shoulders. "The senate requires time to deliberate—"
"The senate," Juno interrupted, her voice sharp as a blade, "is wasting precious time. As much as it pains me to say it, Jackson could have started on his quest already. It it not worth delaying."
"Then tell me what to do," Percy interrupted.
The goddess turned her full attention to Percy, and for a moment, he felt the weight of her gaze, like an intense pressure behind his eyes. "The quest must begin now," she declared. "Tonight. There can be no more delay."
"Tonight?" Reyna looked troubled. "Without the senate's approval? Without proper preparations?"
"You Romans and your regulations," Juno sighed. "Very well. By sunrise, then. But not a moment later." She fixed Percy with a penetrating stare. "You must go. The fate of Olympus—of both camps—depends on it."
Percy nodded. "Where do I go?"
"Take the boat," she said simply. "The river will guide you."
What boat? Percy had spent quite some time around the Little Tiber, but he hadn't really noticed a boat—
"The boat?" Reyna frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. "There's only one boat in New Rome, and it's hardly suitable for a quest. It's ceremonial, used only for the Festival of Tides and—"
"I know what it is used for, child." Juno interrupted, rubbing her temples like she had some sort of godly migraine. "You two have wasted enough of my time. Tomorrow. At sunrise. Or else Olympus falls."
Before Percy could respond, the goddess dissolved into a peacock-feathered light that quickly faded, leaving them alone on the rooftop once more.
"Well," Percy said after a long moment of silence. "That was helpful."
Reyna remained standing, her posture rigid as she stared at the spot where the goddess had vanished. "She wants us both to go. Together," she repeated, like she couldn't believe what she was saying.
"Looks that way." Percy rose to his feet, brushing terracotta dust from his jeans.
"Without the senate's blessing? Without proper preparations?" Reyna shook her head, the moonlight casting sharp shadows across her features. "That's not the Roman way."
"Yeah, well, I'm not—" Percy caught himself. "Reyna. I know this sounds bad, but— trust me?"
Reyna's dark eyes studied him with intensity. Percy knew what she was thinking about— he'd destroyed her first home. She didn't want the same to happen to Camp Jupiter.
"This isn't how we do things here," she said, finally. "We can't simply abandon our responsibilities."
"How many times has a god visited Camp just to tell you to leave?" Percy argued. "If Juno herself is telling us to move now, it means we're already behind schedule."
"The senate must be informed," Reyna insisted. "An emergency meeting at dawn, before our departure. Proper protocol—"
"Reyna," Percy pleaded again. "You heard what she said. We can't delay. The fate of Camp—both Camps is at stake."
Almost, as if in a dream, Percy remembered the lines from the prophecy Rachel had spouted seven months ago. What binds with curse can be freed by choice.
It was a choice. Percy recognized the conflict in Reyna's eyes. She had to choose. The curse was hers. So was the choice.
"The gods entrusted Rome with their legacy precisely because of our discipline," Reyna said, walking in circles on the roof. "Our strength comes from order, from the collective power of the legion acting as one body. We don't rush blindly into danger!"
"Sometimes the rules have to bend. You have to trust your instincts over a bunch of old rules!"
Reyna stiffened. She turned back to face him. "It's not a bunch of old rules! The law is what ensures things in Rome stay in order!"
"But if you don't leave now," Percy argued back, "There won't be a Rome!"
"But—"
"Reyna! I know you love rules or whatever but seriously, you have to—"
"Faex!**"
Percy stopped abruptly. "What?"
Reyna hesitated, then slowly pulled back the leather bracer on her right forearm. In the silver moonlight, Percy could see that the skin beneath had turned gray, with the texture of rough stone. It covered an area about the size of his palm, the edges faintly luminescent against her olive skin.
The curse. Reyna's skin had begun to turn into stone.
"When did that happen?" he asked quietly. Percy wasn't sure what triggered the curse, but either way, now that it had started, he had to get Reyna away from Camp Jupiter as soon as he could.
"I don't know," Reyna admitted, surprising Percy with how vulnerable she sounded just then. "I'd felt a prickling for several days now, but there wasn't time…" She looked up at Percy, her eyes reflecting a fear he'd never seen in her before. "It's the curse, isn't it?"
Percy nodded slowly. He didn't know what to say.
Reyna stared at the stone patch on her skin for another long moment, like she couldn't believe it was a part of her. Percy gave her some space. He'd never experienced turning into stone before, but it probably wasn't a good feeling.
Finally, she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath.
"Sunrise," she agreed, pulling the bracer back over the affected area. "We'll take the boat and follow the river, as Juno instructed."
Relief flooded through Percy. At least, there was some chance of hope. He could save Reyna. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness for the dark-haired demigod in front of him. He had to save her. He just had to.
I'm not going to let your life go to ruin, Percy thought. Again. What he said aloud was: "I'll meet you at the docks before first light."
Reyna nodded. "I'll arrange for supplies. And I'll leave instructions for the legion in my absence." She gave him a curt nod, then jumped off the roof.
Percy's dreams that night were fragmented and disturbing.
He was in an old, dimly chamber that was so large it made the throne room in Olympus look tiny. In front of him, a pale throne rose from a floor of polished obsidian, its surface carved from what looked like the continents themselves. On it sat a figure wrapped in swirling mist. It seemed asleep, but it was talking.
"The Greek comes west," the figure whispered, its voice like stone grinding against stone. "But does he understand what he seeks?"
The scene shifted. Percy found himself standing on Half-Blood Hill, looking down at a Camp Half-Blood he barely recognized. The cabins lay in ruins, the dining pavilion reduced to rubble. Fire and earthquakes everywhere. In the center was a familiar figure with blonde hair, her back turned towards him.
"Annabeth!" he called, but the figure didn't turn. When he tried to run, Percy's feet became rooted to the ground. The harder he struggled, the more he felt himself turning to stone.
"You abandoned us," Annabeth said without turning. "You chose them over your own kind."
"That's not true," Percy tried to say, but his voice emerged as a rasp of stone against stone.
The dream dissolved once more, reforming into a torch-lit chamber where rows of toga-clad figures sat in judgment. The Roman Senate, Percy realized, though their faces were obscured by shadow.
"Graecus," they chanted in unison. "Impostor. Spy."
At the head of the chamber stood Reyna, her expression cold as she raised her arm—now completely transformed to stone.
"I trusted you," she said, her voice echoing strangely in the chamber.
Before Percy could respond, he felt cold jaws close around his throat—the white hellhound, materializing from the shadows behind him.
Percy jolted awake, heart hammering against his ribs. No white hellhound in sight.
Looking around, he could see the pre-dawn light filter through the barrack windows, casting long shadows across the sleeping forms of his bunk mates. Frank snored nearby, clutching a large teddy bear. Without making a sound, Percy slipped from his bunk and reached for his pack.
He traveled light: a change of clothes, a small supply of ambrosia and nectar in a flask. Some loose change and a few scraps he'd picked up from around America (a key chain from the Metropolitan Museum Annabeth had given him, a fridge magnet from the Hoover Dam Thalia had forced him to buy, and an old soda can Grover had asked him to store as an emergency supply). Percy felt a small smile cross his face as he left the barracks. He missed his friends.
Romans slept with discipline. The legion tended to sleep deeply and wake exactly at the designated hour—not a moment before. It made slipping out pretty easy, especially for Percy, since he'd spent years sneaking past cabin inspections at Camp Half-Blood.
He made his way toward the docks on the Little Tiber, finding the boat had somehow appeared on the river overnight. It was impossible to miss—made from polished cedar, its hull was adorned with carvings of demigods and temples and NFL mascots. Sea creatures twined around the gunwales. The prow was a figure of Tom Brady.
"Having second thoughts?"
Percy turned to find Reyna approaching, a pack slung over one shoulder. Like him, she had dressed practically—jeans, a dark purple t-shirt, light armor that wouldn't restrict movement. Her hair was pulled back in its usual braid, and her sword hung at her side.
"Cool boat," Percy commented.
A hint of a smile played at the corner of Reyna's mouth. "It was a group effort. And half the Camp was watching the Super Bowl that time."
"I can tell." Percy eyed the craft skeptically. It didn't have an engine, just a bunch of sails on top that flapped pathetically every few seconds when the wind struck. Painted along the side in faded gold letters was the name of the boat: ROWMAN REIGNS
Reyna must have followed his line of vision, because she looked worried.
"I guess we'll have to try and catch some wind. Maybe I can ask—"
"Nah. Don't worry about it."
"You can control boats?"
"Like I said," Percy grinned. "Don't worry about it."
Reyna rolled her eyes. "The Little Tiber feeds into the American River, which eventually reaches the Sacramento River and the bay. If we're meant to follow the water, that's the route."
Percy nodded, his mind already mapping the hydrography. Rivers were just like roads. "That'll take us to the ocean eventually. A lot of territory to cover."
"We'll know where to stop," Reyna said with more confidence than Percy felt.
They loaded their supplies and untied the boat from its moorings. Reyna then quickly went back and lugged two large bags onto the boat. It could have been anything, but Percy hoped it was food. She also chucked a bunch of weapons on board: swords, knives, spears. Even a leaf blower.
As he settled at the stern, Percy glanced back at Camp Jupiter. The first rays of sunlight had just crested the eastern hills, gilding the temples and barracks with warm light.
"We better get a move on," he told Reyna. She followed his gaze to the waking camp, her expression unreadable.
"Yeah," she said, sighing and climbing aboard. "I just hope Octavian doesn't ruin everything."
Percy took a deep breath and extended his awareness into the river beneath them. The water responded immediately, currents shifting to cradle the boat, propelling it gently but swiftly downstream. The rigging automatically went out. The sails flew up, even though there wasn't really any breeze around. An old mop swished around deck, cleaning a few dirty spots of old soda and crusty Doritos.
Behind them, Camp Jupiter receded into the distance, the morning mist swallowing its outlines until only the gleaming dome of Jupiter's temple remained visible. Reyna looked a little nervous, but with a sigh eventually went down the small cabin below deck, clearing out several posters that had been stuck across the beds. Ahead, the river widened as the Little Tiber merged with a larger waterway—the American River.
SPLASH!
As their boat approached the turbulent boundary, the surface of the American River began to roil and churn. Mist rose from the disturbance, coalescing into humanoid forms—water spirits, but unlike any naiads Percy had encountered before. Their features were sharp, predatory. Like skeletons.
"River guardians," Reyna said grimly, joining Percy at the stern and drawing her gladius.
One of the water spirits rose higher, its form solidifying until it loomed over their boat. "Son of the sea god," it spoke, its voice a gurgling hiss. "You are not welcome here. Turn back to your Roman kennel, false one."
"We seek passage downriver," Reyna replied. "By the ancient pacts between Rome and the river gods, we claim right of way."
A sound like bubbling laughter. "Ancient pacts," the leader mocked. "What do we care? The stone that breathes has awakened, and all water flows to its will now."
The spirit lunged forward, its watery form elongating into a spear-like projection aimed directly at Percy's chest. Reyna moved quickly, her gladius intercepting the attack and breaking it into a spray of droplets.
"Percy, move us through!" she shouted, already engaging a second spirit that had launched itself toward the boat.
Percy didn't need to be told twice. Closing his eyes, he focused, and pulled. The river responded, though sluggishly, as if fighting against some other influence.
The boat lurched forward, cutting through the line of turbulence. Water spirits lunged and grasped at him from all sides. Percy slashed in all directions, trying to avoid them touching him. He couldn't focus on it for long, because trying to maintain control of the boat was taking all his attention. It was like trying to drive a car while someone else had their hands on the steering wheel.
Reyna fought methodically, covering Percy's rear. And flank. And front too. Honestly, he would have been impaled by a frozen spear at some point if it hadn't been for her.
"There are too many!" she warned. "We need another plan!"
Percy grit his teeth, feeling sweat bead on his forehead. The corruption in the water was fighting him, trying to seep into his own connection with the river. He had to try something else. Water wasn't working. Maybe he could change that.
"I have an idea." he replied. "Hold on!"
Percy yelled. He screamed. He focused on being as flighty and angry and heated as he could.
He could feel the river respond to him, superheated water slowly surrounding the boat. The river quickly began to boil, erupting in a massive cloud of scalding vapor that engulfed the water spirits. Their forms shook for a moment, before dissipating into steam.
"DUCK!" Percy shouted.
Reyna dropped to the deck of the boat as Percy released his control, allowing the water to rush back together with explosive force. The shock wave sent the ROWMAN REIGNS hurtling downstream, beyond the confluence and into the main channel of the American River.
For several long moments, he maintained their speed, putting distance between the boat and the corrupted water spirits. Only when Percy was certain they weren't being pursued did he gradually slow their pace to something more manageable.
"We've lost them," Reyna commented.
"Good," Percy replied. Then he passed out.
*/** = LATIN
* = eat my pants!
** = shit!