It was not a good idea to laugh at the angry god of the dead.

  It was NOT a good idea to laugh at the angry god of the dead.

  “Pffft…!” Hazel smacked a hand over her mouth, muffing the rebellious laugh.

  Hades was still staring incredulously at the ceiling of the Underworld, his face stuck in a–admittedly quite funny–mixture of rage, disbelief, and dumbfoundedness. It was as if he couldn’t comprehend the sheer ridiculousness of what had just happened.

  The god of the Underworld stammered in confused anger. “Wha—I don’t…WHAT?! To defy me so…so..! How dare he!?”

  Despite her best efforts, a quiet snort escaped Hazel. Hades heard it this time, swiveling his head toward her. “You–you rebellious girl!”

  He pointed a shaky finger at her, and Hazel quickly straightened, changing her expression into curious innocence. She looked at Hades with wide eyes. She was just a little girl; what harm could she have done?

  Hazel tried to mimic Percy’s baby-seal eyes, trying to appeal to Hades’ nonexistent soft side. “I’m sorry, father, but you have to understand. This is the only way to stop a war!”

  Hades looked down and took a deep, agonizing breath. When his head rose, the god was suddenly Roman again, and Pluto’s red eyes now looked at her with disapproval akin to a parent, rather than anger. “You turned the dead against me, Hazel. That was very brazen of you.”

  She hated it, but a heavy sense of guilt welled up inside Hazel when she saw that gaze. At that moment, he looked like a disappointed mortal father reprimanding his disobedient daughter.

  She stamped down the feeling. Pluto had no right to look at her like that, not when he had been absent for her entire life. “I had no choice.”

  He gave a frustrated sigh. “You have no idea what you are interfering with, Hazel. This is something you would not understand.”

  “Stop treating me like a child! You were never around then, so don’t start pretending now!” Hazel retorted. To her surprise, Pluto stiffened at the accusation, and she took the chance to continue. “Percy promised to get your helm back. Letting him do it is the only way to stop a war from breaking out. Even if you kill him, both Neptune and Jupiter will see you as an enemy since you will have the Master Bolt!”

  “They already see me as an outcast,” Pluto grumbled. Still, it seemed Hazel was getting through to him, as he muttered thoughtfully, “This boy…even if he does return my helm, how can he be sure I will honor my end of the deal?”

  “Because you are the supreme judge of the dead.” Hazel reminded. “Rome respected you as the one who upholds the laws and justice.”

  Pluto narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Hazel, and she realized she might have spoken too much. “The boy is not Roman, but you know that. You were not surprised when you saw me as Hades. And I don’t recall ever explaining any of this to you.”

  Hazel tried to stay calm, but inwardly she was freaking out. “I, uh, I just assumed since you all were talking about Zeus and Poseidon that the demigods were Greek. I mean, is that not normal? This is my first time seeing other demigods.”

  Pluto leaned back onto his throne, his anger and dismay momentarily replaced by curiosity. “You deduced that just from our conversation?”

  “I mean, Rome and Greece are related, right?” Hazel shrugged casually. “It’s not too much of a stretch.”

  To her relief, the god seemed to take that explanation, chuckling bitterly. “If only it were that simple.”

  Pluto became quiet, eyes pensive. Hazel wanted to remind him about Percy’s deal, but her father seemed to be in deep thought, and she didn’t want to interrupt him. The god of the Underworld could be temperamental, after all.

  Alecto came flapping down, the sound of her bat wings breaking the silence. She landed next to the Silent One and hissed something in his ear, glaring at Hazel the entire time.

  Hazel narrowed her eyes right back.

  Pluto waved the Dirae off. “That’s enough. Go up and follow the son of Poseidon. If you see he has the helm, retrieve it from him.”

  “Violently?” The Dirae suggested with a bit too much glee for Hazel’s taste.

  “No,” Pluto answered, to Hazel’s relief. “Unless he refuses to hand it over. If he returns it willingly, then there is no need to press things further.”

  She couldn’t help but interrupt. “And you’ll honor your side of the bargain?”

  Pluto’s face hardened, reminding Hazel that she was very much so on thin ice. An oppressive darkness set in, making Hazel shiver. Even so, she didn’t waver, staring her father down.

  “If…” The god slowly decided. “Only if he can prove he did not steal my helm.”

  “Father!”

  He stared at her coldly, his stony expression like a wall of platinum. “You presume much, Hazel! If Jackson has truly dared to slight the gods, he will not go unpunished!”

  He wouldn’t relent on this, Hazel could tell. Reluctantly, Hazel asked, “But if he didn’t steal it, you’ll return his mother?”

  Alecto hissed at her warningly, but Pluto raised a hand to quiet the Dirae. “Why do you care so much, Hazel?”

  “I already told you. It’s not fair to blame someone when we don’t actually know if they’re at fault.” And if Hazel was being honest, she didn’t want anyone else to feel abandoned by anyone like she did…least of all one of her best friends. “So please promise that you’ll return her, father.”

  “How stubborn. Just like your mother.” Pluto murmured quietly, and Hazel couldn’t help but stiffen to hear the comparison. Stubbornness didn’t end up helping Marie Levesque, after all. “Fine. I swear that I will honor the deal if Jackson returns my helm, and proves that he was not the thief.”

  With a dramatic flair, Pluto raised his hand and shot out a ball of gold fire from his palm. The sphere exploded with a flash, pouring down a shower of gold with a woman frozen inside the light. Hazel’s breath hitched when she saw it. The light radiated heat like a bonfire, the only source of warmth in the dreary castle.

  “Go, Alecto.”

  The daemon bowed her head dutifully before flying away to the world of the living, and Hazel wished it was that easy for herself. Pluto looked like he wanted to say something, but after a moment of awkward silence, he just melted into shadow without a word. Leaving Hazel alone with Sally Jackson.

  Hazel stepped toward the beacon, feeling the warmth ebb away the cold. She felt her senses clearing up, as if being dead had dulled them a little. Hazel reached out to the light, but quickly had to pull back when it started to burn her.

  She hissed, shaking her hands. Being dead didn’t block pain, apparently. She supposed that would defeat the purpose of the Fields of Punishment, after all.

  The fiery light kept shimmering with Percy’s mom inside, unmoving just like flies trapped in amber. It glimmered and flickered like a star, the lights brightening and fading almost as if it were enveloped in a mist.

  If she wasn’t dead, Hazel’s heartbeat would have quickened. Her powers over riches were barely there, but she was able to control the dead. What if that wasn’t all she could do?

  Her powers were limited since she was dead. But Hazel suspected the separation of life and death couldn’t affect the Mist.

  From her time learning about the supernatural force, Hazel knew the greatest illusion was the illusion of separation. In fact, that was what the Mist specialized in, concealing and separating the divine from the mortal. However, it could also do the opposite. It could bend and blur the wall between reality and fantasy, between truth and lies. If the gods wanted something hidden, the Mist could make it disappear from the world. If people wanted to see something, the Mist could turn that real.

  As a manipulator of the Mist, Hazel wouldn’t be stopped by something as trivial as death. It was just another boundary for her to bend. Concentrating on the light, Hazel imagined the light dissipating, fading away.

  There were two easy ways to change reality. The first was to take what the target wanted to see and utilize it. The second was to use what the target believed, like how Hazel defeated Pasiphae. By playing on her fears and reminding her of her past experiences, Hazel made the witch believe that demigods would always outwit and outdo her, pulling the rug out under her feet. Once that happened, it was easy to bring the belief to life, no matter how much Pasiphae didn’t want to see it.

  Unfortunately, Hazel wasn’t even sure if Sally was conscious and could even think, so that left her no choice but to force it through with sheer will. She bit her lip, closing her eyes and demanding reality to bend.

  There was a sound like glass shattering, and the light casing suddenly began to fall apart. Sally Jackson dropped to the floor as Pluto’s magic gave out, crumpling to the ground. Hazel quickly caught her, more than a little ecstatic. “Mrs. Jackson? Are you alright?”

  “What…?” She lifted her head slowly, unfocused and confused. “Where am I?”

  She met Hazel’s eyes, and Hazel realized how strikingly beautiful the woman was. Was it the fact that she was alive, or were eyes always that warm? “Oh…who are you? Did you help me?”

  Hazel nodded, helping her up. Sally looked around, gathering in the surroundings. Judging by the dawning look on her face, she had a good idea where she was.

  “We’re in the Underworld.” Hazel confirmed, but quickly added, “But you’re not dead. Plu–Hades was just keeping you here.”

  Her shoulders sagged slightly, but Sally still didn’t seem very relieved. She looked like she was torn between worry and keeping her guard up.

  “I can assume why. I don’t remember anything after the Minotaur grabbed me.” She suddenly gasped. “Oh, I do hope Percy is alright…”

  “He is,” Hazel assured her. “Hades made a deal with him, and he’s going to save you.”

  Clearly, that raised more questions than it answered. Sally looked at her strangely, and the hint of wariness in her expression reminded Hazel that she must have looked very suspicious of her. Was she a monster? A goddess in disguise?

  “Are you a friend of Percy’s?”

  Deciding there was no harm in letting her know, Hazel nodded, hoping it would ease her guard. Sally still looked at her a little distrustfully, but her curiosity eventually won out. “Please, tell me everything.”

  Hazel explained as much as she could to Percy’s mom, but she tried to avoid talking about herself as much as possible. She told her what little she knew about the thief who stole from the gods, and how Percy and his friends arrived in the Underworld to ask Hades to free her. “Hades, erm, came to an agreement with Percy to return you if he found the true culprit.”

  “I always knew Percy would have to join his father’s world eventually. But I wanted to keep him close, away from the dangers of monsters and gods…” Sally sighed sadly, sitting down on the steps to the throne. “Maybe I held on too tight, for too long.”

  Hazel hesitated, but couldn’t help it. She sat down next to the woman. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing. You were just doing what a good parent would do.”

  “Hmm. I suppose the gods sometimes leave a lot to be desired.” Sally quipped unexpectedly, making Hazel laugh. “Thank you for helping me, dear. How did you do it?”

  “I…um…” Hazel thought about it. She wasn’t exactly sure, either. Did she simply dispel the magic light? Or did she erase it with the Mist, like it had never existed in the first place? For all Hazel knew, she could’ve accidentally cast an illusion on herself without realizing it, and she was just talking to thin air.

  “I used my powers.” She eventually settled on, keeping it as simple as possible. “I’m a daughter of Hades, by the way.”

  Sally looked surprised, but her gaze became a little sad. “I see. But, you don’t seem…”

  “Alive?” Hazel guessed. “You’re right, I’m not. I died decades ago…grand and dramatic like a hero.”

  Hazel meant to be lighthearted since she didn’t want to make the woman feel bad. However, the crack in her voice betrayed her, and she could feel the weight of Sally’s sympathetic gaze. To Hazel's surprise, Sally wrapped a comforting arm around her, gently pulling her close.

  “Then that means you died doing the right thing. I’m sure there are many who are grateful and proud of you.”

  For I am proud of your strength, in life and in death.

  You were my gift, Hazel. My most precious gift.

  “Why are you saying this?” Hazel asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly as a lump welled up in her throat. “You just met me.”

  Her motherly smile could have lit up the world. “A few words of encouragement can help someone a long way, dear. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t feel alone.”

  Sally Jackson had no idea what Hazel had gone through, yet her words were somehow perfect. For so long, Hazel had sat alone, unnoticed despite her actions. She didn’t regret saving her mother…but it didn’t make things any less difficult. The world went on without her, waging their wars while not knowing a child gave the ultimate sacrifice to save them all.

  But Hazel was reminded that her parents were proud of her. Her friends remembered her and wanted to help her. Her eyes stung as she halfheartedly tried to pull away from Sally’s embrace.

  Hazel sniffed slightly. “It’s like you knew exactly what to say.”

  “Call it a mother’s intuition. I have a feeling Percy’s very lucky to have a friend like you.” She chuckled, and Hazel wondered where her own mother was right now.

  Marie was likely wandering through the fields of Asphodel, and unlike Hazel, she wouldn’t have her memories. That was something Hazel couldn’t change, something she had long since accepted.

  So with that being the case, Hazel couldn’t help but want to enjoy this moment, to take this feeling for granted selfishly. This was a privilege she had experienced very few times in her life.

  So, right now, couldn’t Hazel at least pretend she had a caring mom?

  “I don’t get it!” Grover complained, shaking off the sand. His hair was plastered to his face by seawater, but the satyr didn’t seem to care as he threw up his arms. “We went all that way for nothing?!”

  “Not for nothing, G-man.” Percy took off the backpack, letting it thump to the ground. “If we find the helm, Hades will give my mom back.”

  His voice trembled a little at the word mom . Percy didn’t see her in the Underworld this time, but had to believe she was safe, that Hades would honor his agreement just like last time…

  Percy hadn’t seen his mom in years . Ever since Hera snatched him away, he never got one chance to go home and see her. Percy didn’t even know if she survived after Gaia’s rise. Did she ever find out if Percy was alive? Did she ever get his message from Alaska?

  Grover hesitated, likely bombarded by Percy’s emotions. “Percy, about your mom…I’m so sorry, but how are we supposed to find the helm? We still have to find the Master Bolt in two days!”

  “Calm down, Grover.” Annabeth placatingly said. She gently grabbed Percy’s arm, which was good since he was currently trying not to cry. “Hades already said it. The same person who stole the Bolt is the one who stole and has the Helm.”

  “But if it’s not Hades, then who would it be?”

  Percy sighed shakily, taking his focus off his depressive wistfulness. He unzipped Ares’ backpack, showing Grover what was inside. The satyr’s face paled, quickly connecting the dots. “But that means…why would he do that?”

  “Gee, let me think.” Percy drawled with a derisive chuckle. “Why would he of all people, want a massive war?”

  “You shall go west and face the god who has turned.” Grover remembered.

  Percy pointed his finger down the beach. “Yeah…I guess it’s time to face him.”

  This time, they walked out to meet him instead of letting him come. Ares stood ahead, waiting for them in an uncharacteristic show of patience. He grinned as they approached, slinging his metal baseball bat over his shoulder.

  The god tilted his sunglasses down to stare at Percy with his fiery red eyes, as if double-checking if he was seeing things clearly. “Well, well, well. You were supposed to die down there, kid.”

  Percy didn’t flinch at his gaze, but something about Ares’ appearance unnerved him. Was it just him, or did Ares resemble Frank a lot right now? With his tall and imposing build and close-cropped black hair, the god looked way too much like how Percy remembered his friend.

  “You tricked us.” Annabeth snapped at Ares. “You stole the Bolt and helm and left us on a wild goose chase.”

  Despite the blatant disrespect, Ares continued to grin. “Well, now, I didn’t steal them personally. Gods taking each other’s symbols of power–that’s a big no-no. But there’s more than one hero in the world to run some errands.”

  Just tools to them, as always. Percy took out Riptide, thumb on the cap already. “I need the helm, Ares.”

  “And I need you to die. You’re impeding the war effort, kid. See, you’ve got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed Head will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath would have had the Master Bolt, so Zeus’ll be mad at him .” Ares took out a ski cap from his pocket, proudly showing it off as it transformed into a bronze war helmet. “Hades won’t know where this is, so he’ll be made at both Zeus and Poseidon. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going.”

  He looked very pleased as he finished his villain monologue, and turned to Annabeth. “Your mother ain’t the only one who’s a war strategist, you know.”

  Percy snorted. Maybe Mars could have said that, but from Percy’s experience, Ares was all brawn and no brain, and he had proven that several times. “Sure. Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn’t your idea, was it? Why didn’t you just keep it for yourself?”

  It was very fun to see Ares fumble. “O-of course it was my idea! Having the bolt in my hands…”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  His face twitched, and Ares cocked his head to the side as if listening to a voice. In a moment, his face cleared. “It would have been too much trouble for me. Better to have you caught red-handed.”

  “You didn’t order the theft at all. You were the one who caught the thief, but, you didn’t turn him over to Zeus. He must have convinced you this was a better idea, so you let him go, keeping the items until you found someone to finish the delivery.” Annabeth reasoned, purposefully pushing all of Ares’ buttons with her intellect. Grover’s head swiveled back and forth between them as if watching a competitive tennis match. “You’re the god of war. You would never give up that kind of weaponr–”

  “Enough!” Ares interrupted, agitated for the first time in the conversation. “Back to the problem at hand. I can’t have you all taking that bolt to Olympus. So, I’ve got to kill you. Nothing personal.”

  “Then fight me yourself,” Percy said. “One on one.”

  Ares looked a little taken aback at the sudden declaration. It wasn’t every day that a hero was so brazen to directly challenge a god, especially a literal child. “You kill a few monsters and now you think you’re on my level? I’m the god of war, boy.”

  “Right, right. So you’ll turn me into a tapeworm or a cockroach, or hide behind one of your pet pigs.” Man, Percy was on a roll with provoking gods today! “That’ll save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn’t it? If you win, you can do whatever you want. But if I win, the helm and bolt are mine and you’ll screw off. How’s that sound?”

  Ares was growing red with rage by the time he finished, so Percy paused for a moment. That much should be enough…but he couldn’t help himself from going just a little more. “Or what, are you going to be a coward? Just fight me. You won’t.”

  The god of war clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he snarled out, “You’re just begging to be smashed into a grease spot!”

  He swung the baseball off his shoulder, smashing it into the sand. “How would you like to get smashed, classic or modern?”

  Percy uncapped Riptide, angling it at the god. Ares sneered. “A good old-fashioned sword fight, then.”

  Annabeth squeezed Percy’s hand. “Don’t get cocky. Ares is all brawn, so fight smart.”

  She took off her camp necklace and looped it around his neck, fixing her eyes on his. The beads thumped against his chest, right next to his rapidly beating heart. “And don’t you dare die.”

  Grover gave him a flattened tin can. It must have been with them for their entire journey. “The satyrs stand behind you.”

  He looked very conflicted, both infuriated by Percy’s actions but trying not to smile at the same time. You’ll be making the face a lot more in the future, G-man. Percy hugged them both, feeling stronger and more confident already. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be right back.”

  Percy strode out to meet Ares, who stared him down. “All done saying goodbye?”

  Percy just glared back, his ADHD on overdrive as if it knew a battle was coming. Wrath and swagger radiated from every inch of Ares’ body. However, after years of fighting, Percy wasn’t as affected by those auras. He saw more past it, noting Ares’ lithe gait of a swordmaster, the slight changes in the angle he held his blade, and the way his feet were planted to defend from the first strike.

  So Percy obliged, lunging forward with Riptide. Ares easily blocked the strike and cleaved downward, forcing Percy back. His sword was a foot longer than Riptide and added with Percy’s short arms, he easily outmaneuvered Percy by abusing that extra reach.

  So, Percy tried to step in and get close with a stab, but two more slashes suddenly came at him from different directions. He just barely parried them, sparks flying off the metal. This was the first real foe that Percy had fought since getting back, and it wasn’t an easy one to start with.

  His jabs were too short. His slashes weren’t going far enough. He wasn’t as agile or quick as he expected, and it was starting to irritate him. Percy feinted left and struck from the other side, but frustration was making him sloppy. Ares deftly saw through it and swung his sword across a wide berth, clashing it against Riptide hard. Percy gritted his teeth as the vibrations of the force traveled through his sword to his body, rattling his bones.

  This wasn’t going as well as he thought it would. Was Ares taking this more seriously than last time? Or was Percy overestimating his ability?

  Before he could think anymore, Ares hooked his sword under Riptide and flung Percy away, sending him stumbling back across the sand.

  “Percy!” Annabeth shouted, pointing behind him.

  He swiveled around, but there was nothing but the crashing waves. Percy turned back, confused. Annabeth was looking at him in irritation, with the classic ‘my boyfriend’s a Seaweed Brain and I have to tell him everything’ expression.

  Unfortunately, Percy didn’t have time to decipher what she meant. Ares was back, and he dodged a swipe to his shoulder before jabbing at the god’s gut. They exchanged strikes and attacks, but Ares was the one pushing the pace. It was taking everything Percy had just to keep up with Ares, and it was only a matter of time before he would make a mistake.

  And it wouldn’t take long for one. Percy overcommitted on a thrust, trying to make up for his short range. However, Ares sidestepped, letting the overcompensation make Percy lose his balance. The god slashed while Percy was stumbling, drawing blood.

  Percy grunted in pain, trying to attack back. But with impeccable timing, Ares kicked him in the chest before he could recover. Percy sailed through the air and crashed into the sand with a weak groan. His head pounded as he lifted a hand to his torn shirt, a line of blood decorating his chest. Now he couldn’t even win by drawing first blood.

  “Not bad, kid, but you’re just not on my level. All that talk, but you forget who you are.” Ares scoffed, a smirk growing on his face as he reaffirmed his dominance. “I have unlimited strength, immortality, and an eternity of experience. What do you have?”

  Then the gloating was suddenly over, and Ares charged forward like a raging bull. Percy scrambled up, scooping up Riptide. He had lost a lot of ground after Ares kicked him back, and now the surf was lapping at his feet.

  Wait…the surf?

  Percy rolled to the side as Ares’ sword crashed into the sand, feeling stupid. That’s what Annabeth was trying to tell him! Why was he ever trying to fight Ares on his own ground, instead of using his element? The water instantly gave Percy a breath of fresh air, and he began to back up into it. Ares followed, confident in his victory. Based on the exchange he and Percy just had, there was no way the twelve-year-old had a chance.

  Percy hid a smile. Ares was about to be in a rude awakening. He deflected the god’s thrust, then stepped back even more to avoid the next slash. The waves were up to his thighs now, soaking his torn jeans.

  However, each step back forced the waves to recede a little more, like it was slowly bottling up. The tension in the water grew, ready to be slingshotted when Percy released it. Percy let Ares get just a little bit closer, watching as he raised his sword. Then, the tide exploded.

  Percy rocketed over the god as the tidal wave crashed into Ares, landing behind him with a splash. Like he was possessed by his past self, he feinted at Ares’ head. Even though he was spitting seaweed and spluttering water, Ares recovered quickly and went for the block. That’s when Percy changed direction and stabbed downward, driving Riptide’s tip into the god’s heel.

  The force of his roar blasted the water under him away to make a huge crater of wet sand. Percy flew backward but the tides caught him and brought him to an easy landing. He breathed heavily, but never felt more alive, never felt as powerful. It was as if something had clicked inside him, sending a surge of strength through his limbs. The water swirled around him, ready to move with Percy’s every thought. Right now, he didn’t think Ares could stop him at all.

  Ichor poured from the god’s wound as rage and disbelief clouded his face. Ares glared hatefully at Percy, limping forward with curses spilling from his mouth. Percy couldn’t help but grin predatorily like a shark chasing down its prey.

  Ares suddenly stopped, his face drooping into confusion. He looked at Percy like the demigod had just grown a second head, so flabbergasted that Percy had to check. He looked around him, but it wasn’t Kronos’ presence. Ares was definitely staring at Percy. “Uh…”

  He heard a gasp from behind him, so he turned to find Annabeth and Grover just as awed. Grover pointed a shaky finger at his head. “Perce…your hair…”

  Percy’s wet hair dangled in his face, and he raised a hand to move it. Suddenly, he noticed two things. First, his hair was oddly lustrous and flowy, almost exactly like seaweed. Second, he spotted two glowing scales, one on the back of his hand and one near his elbow. Full-on, genuine, luminescent fish scales.

  His skin felt healthier, and Percy felt an aura of power–one that he usually recognized covering immortals–around himself. By all rights, Percy should have been exhausted from the use of his powers, fatigued from his battle and travels. But he wasn’t; he felt strong, vigorous, almost like…like…

  “Like a god.” Percy whispered.

  “Wh–what are you?!” Ares spat out. “You’re no ordinary godling!”

  Percy lowered his hand, tearing his eyes away from the unnatural glow of his skin. “No, I’m not. I’ve never been.”

  Ares stared at him for a few more seconds, and Percy wondered if he would give up now. But then, his face tightened into a stone-cold look, like a general in a last stand with his soldiers. “You…you definitely can’t be allowed to live.”

  There was no more gloating, not even his arrogant smile anymore. One moment, the god was limping, weakened and unprepared. The next, he was suddenly in front of Percy, sending a terrifying quick slash toward the demigod’s chest. But the water was more connected to Percy than ever. As if thinking for him, the tide sent Percy flying into the air, and he slashed while falling down. Ares twisted, blocking the strike and thrusting his sword forward with deadly precision. Percy swatted it aside, letting the water carry him away to a safe distance.

  Ares was fighting differently now, with a certain urgency in his attacks. He wasn’t playing around anymore; Ares was trying to kill Percy as quickly and efficiently as possible. His face was sharp and emotionless, and even with the sudden burst of godly strength, Percy couldn’t help but feel wary.

  He crouched low, scanning the skies for leathery wings. “Hey, Uncle Hades! I found who took your helm, so if you could give me a little help, that would be great!”

  There was no response, and still no Furies in the air, so Percy had to fend for himself as Ares closed in. Their blades flew through the air in a blazing-fast clash, Percy’s new godlike reflexes keeping up with Ares’ battle senses. Percy slashed Riptide across his arm, tearing his biker jacket, but Ares just moved forward with a swipe to made him back up, just barely avoiding losing his head. The god seemed to be insistent on marching forward until Percy was trampled.

  This will stop you in your tracks. Percy concentrated on the flowing waves, forcing them to swirl around Ares’ feet. He sped the tides up, watching them begin to crash and rage. The wind picked up, and Ares stumbled.

  “Percy!” Grover called in amazement. “How are you doing that?!”

  Clouds of water vapor swirled around Percy, and the water and wind raced around him like horses. Ares tried to keep his footing as Percy’s personal hurricane buffeted him back and forth. Surrounded by waves, Percy slashed and hacked at him, not giving him a single moment of respite. Ares could barely even defend himself, and now he was the one backing up.

  “Grr…raaah!” Suddenly, Ares stabbed his sword straight down into the sand.

  A shockwave of force erupted from around him, blowing the hurricane apart instantly. It was like the roar of pain earlier, but ten times stronger. Percy flew back and tumbled around a few times in the surf, his head spinning.

  “Damn…that too?” Percy got up with a groan.

  He was trying to end the battle quickly since he couldn’t keep this up forever. Ares had the advantage of unlimited stamina, which Percy clearly did not have judging by the draining ache in his sides after summoning the hurricane. That was the move that got him the win with Hyperion, but this time he had no team of satyrs to turn him into a tree.

  Ares spat out a mouthful of seawater, his murderous gaze as dark as ever. Percy sighed. “Here we go again…”

  It looked like Ares was trying to make it as difficult as possible for Percy to win. He readied Riptide just as Ares went to charge, but something stopped them.

  Light faded. Sound and color drained away. Time slowed as everything grew heavy and cold, dropping the temperature to freezing. Life felt hopeless. Fighting felt useless. Percy barely registered the police sirens blaring behind him, the cops shouting at them. They probably had been there a while, but the fight must have drowned them out for Percy.

  Ares looked shocked, at a loss for words. His silence was interrupted by the flaps of leathery wings, as the three evil grandmothers descended out of nowhere with fiery whips. Mrs. Dodds sneered at Percy, before turning to Ares.

  “God of war. The Lord of the Dead requires his helm.” She said, baring her fangs. “By keeping his symbol from him, trying to antagonize him, you have made an enemy of the Underworld. Return the Helm of Darkness now, or face the consequences.”

  The god’s eyes flared, and he looked like he was going to attack the Furies. But after a moment, Ares straightened. A blank expression covered his face as if he was trying to hide any emotion, and he stiffly turned to Percy. “I don’t know what you are, Jackson…but you will regret this.”

  He bit out each syllable one by one. Ares glowed bright, and Percy turned away as the god disappeared in a flash of light, leaving behind the bronze helmet in the wet sand. Percy picked it up, feeling the millennia of terror and nightmares infused in the metal. Blood running cold, he quickly tossed the cap to the Furies who landed in front of him.

  “There’s your helm. Now, my mom.” Percy reminded.

  “Lord Hades is honorable.” Alecto gave him a conflicted look, pleased but annoyed at the same time. “She will be returned.”

  The other two watched him suspiciously, looking him up and down and taking in the unnatural appearance. Percy ignored their gazes and walked to his friends.

  “Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. If not…” The Fury cackled behind him, but Percy didn’t turn around as he heard them fly away.

  “Percy…that was incredible! How did you do all that?” Grover shook his head in amazement.

  Percy just shrugged, giving them a tired smile. “I’m just that kind of special.”

  Annabeth stepped close to him, and she gently ran a hand through his glossy hair. Her gray eyes were calculating and concerned. “What’s this?”

  “No idea.” Percy admitted. He lifted his hand and pried at one of his scales, but they were fused to his skin.

  They had stopped glowing, though. Just like how the godly strength was fading with his adrenaline, leaving Percy feeling incredibly drained. His knees shook slightly, trying not to give out. He took the backpack when Grover handed it to him, the Master Bolt still inside.

  “Percy, that wasn’t just special, it was literally divine.” Grover breathed. “I can’t explain how that looked in any other way…”

  Annabeth met his eyes, and though he wanted to look away she wouldn’t let him. There was no use hiding it. She could see what he was thinking, what he was worried about.

  “Let’s get the bolt back to New York.” Annabeth decided, though Percy knew they would talk later. “Do you have an idea for that, Percy?”

  Percy managed a tired smile. “Absolutely.”

  Leading a giant sea monster to their narrow passage wasn’t as difficult as Frank thought. His giant eagle form was easily able to outpace the monster, but Frank made sure he was always close enough to get it to chase him.

  That didn’t mean it wasn’t terrifying, though. Every time the sea monster screamed, every fiber (and feather) of Frank’s body wanted to wilt and die. It weaved back and forth through the water and lunged at the eagle with its long neck at regular intervals. Sometimes, its fangs would get so close Frank could see the fire sparking and poison dripping from its teeth.

  And he could smell its breath, too. Ugh.

  Their plan relied on the natural environment of the earth. A couple of rock formations were up ahead, and Frank decided to do a test. It was risky, but it would give him a lot of peace of mind about the plan. Changing direction, Frank timed the monster’s movements. Every so often, it would try to bite him by extending its long neck.

  He angled himself to fly toward the first rock spire, keeping an eye on the raging monster with his eagle vision. A little more…

  And at the perfect moment, Frank swerved around the jutting rock spike as the monster lunged forward. Its head slammed against the rock, shaking it slightly. It recoiled in pain, spasming, and seemingly surprised it got a face-full of rock instead of giant eagle. Clearly, its face was not as powerful as its jaw.

  Okay. On to step two. Frank flew toward another rock spire, and the sea monster followed, even more angry than ever. Let it not be said that the beast wasn’t intelligent though, as it wasn’t lunging out anymore. Still, Frank was confident this would work. To the monster, this was just an annoying nuisance, like a mosquito.

  Frank soared narrowly by the rock spire, and the Trojan sea monster swam around it in a wide berth to avoid hitting it. Suddenly, Frank u-turned around the formation, grazing the other side of the rocks with the tips of his wings.

  Trying to follow him, the Trojan sea monster swerved and ended up slamming its huge body into the stone. It roared in pain and annoyance, but Frank was more focused on studying the jutting rocks. They were cracked and crumbling, but still somewhat upright for now.

  That would have to do. Satisfied, Frank led the Lovecraftian horror to the spot. Walls of earth rose from the sides, and Frank glided down the narrow channel. The Trojan sea monster followed without thinking, screeching what was probably bloody murder.

  At the end of the channel were several rock formations, jutting out their sharp points similar to barricades against ships. Those manmade obstacles would tear ships apart when they landed; so Frank decided to use them as inspiration.

  Though the sea monster would need a little push. Frank soared over the rocks, and the Trojan sea monster paused as it reached the rocks, unwilling to swim across the pointy obstacles. It was too big to go around in the narrow alcove, so the monster turned around.

  Just to find a blond Superman hovering in front of him, blocking the exit. After a moment where the sea monster seemed a little dumbfounded at the sight of a tiny flying boy staring it down, Frank screeched loudly. If they didn’t act quickly, the monster might destroy the rocks one by one with its powerful jaws. They needed to strike hard and fast.

  Jason heard the signal and raised his arms. Instantly, the wind picked up and rushed down the channel, howling in Frank’s ears. The monster snapped out of the trance and went on the attack. Frank, now a dragon, intercepted it with a blast of flame, aiming for its injured eye from their last battle.

  He slashed and blew fire at the monster, distracting it as Jason did his thing. His friend was already the center of a storm, thunder booming and lightning flashing by around him, illuminating the demigod in harsh light. It almost made it seem like Jason was glowing…

  Wait. Jason was glowing. Lines of dull gold gleamed across Jason’s arms and neck, like the blood in his veins had been transformed into lightning. Frank stared for a moment, trying to think if this had happened before.

  The Trojan Sea Monster would have snatched him out of the air while he was distracted, but something made it lurch forward and miss. It was almost comical how the beast looked down in surprise, finding itself suspended a few meters off the water by swirling, raging wind.

  Jason shouted defiantly, his voice genuinely as loud as the thunder around him. The winds grew even stronger, gales battering the sea monster from all sides. Frank flapped away, trying to not accidentally be caught in the maelstrom.

  The monster lashed out left and right, spewing poison and fire. It didn’t matter; the wind restrained it as much as it buffeted it. It was in the middle of a dense tornado, and all its thrashing was for naught as the monster levitated higher and higher. Frank roared in awe. Jason was successfully controlling the weather, the monster, and himself impeccably. The amount of concentration and coordination, not to mention raw power, was almost unfathomable.

  It was godlike.

  Then, the wind started to change direction. The sea monster was carried toward the end of the channel, toward Frank, and toward the rocks. The sea monster seemed to realize what was going on, thrashing harder. It was no use; there were no enemies to bite, no foes to batter away. The wind just kept raging and howling.

  With one more thunderclap of a battle cry, Jason propelled the Trojan Sea Monster down, right above the sharp jutting rocks. The monster helplessly crashed into them with its whole weight, and the scream of agony felt like it was piercing Frank’s ears.

  The rocks gave out after the beast landed, most of them snapping into many pieces. But the damage was done, as several large pieces of sharp stone had been lodged in the monster’s torso. The beast went berserk with pain, crushing all the remaining rocks to pieces and cracking the channel walls with its wild thrashing, but Frank could tell it was weakening.

  He soared above the monster who didn’t even seem to see him, completely blinded by anguish. Frank transformed back into a human and fell down, down, down. The monster’s head was getting closer and closer, and when it finally tipped its head up to notice him, it was too late.

  A spear of solid imperial gold was still strapped to Frank’s back. In one fluid move, Frank took it off, aimed, and stabbed the Trojan Sea Monster in its one good eye with all the force of gravity. He let go and let himself fall past the monster’s head, changing into a bat right before he crashed into the turbulent mix of sea and crushed rocks. He flapped to safety and watched the beast recoil, its mouth widening to give another earth-shattering scream.

  However, it never got the chance. A blinding bolt of white lightning flashed out of nowhere, striking with pinpoint accuracy. The tip connected with the golden spear in its eye, and instantly a thousand volts of electricity surged through the monster’s blood vessels, cooking it from the inside. The monster spasmed and jittered in place, unable to even make a noise. It finally collapsed backward, slumping against the cliff.

  Frank flew back to its still form, landing on top of its head. With a grunt, he heaved the spear out of the monster’s eye. It wasn’t dissolving yet, so he would give it one more stab, just for good measure and to make sure—

  The monster suddenly snapped open its dim eyes, bucking blindly to send the defenseless demigod flying. Disoriented, Frank barely had a moment to think ‘oh, crap’ , before the monster was lunging at him, somehow acutely aware of where he was falling.

  He tried to transform into a bird, or a fish, or anything , something to help him not get eaten. But his head was spinning and Frank couldn’t concentrate, and the monster’s mouth was wide open showing him the machine of death that had claimed another demigod’s life barely an hour ago, and Frank was going to be next, he was going to die, die, die—

  There was a rush of wind, and a chunk of the monster’s throat suddenly disappeared, reduced to a mess of flesh and golden dust. Jason held his gladius out defensively at the shuddering beast. He had somehow closed the distance in less than a second, becoming a literal blur to finish off the sea monster and protect his friend. Another gust of wind kept Frank aloft, one as gentle as a spring breeze.

  He stared at Jason in shock. His friend was still blurring at the edges like a storm spirit, as if he was still traveling at Mach speeds and this was just his afterimage. It almost seemed like at any moment Jason would just dissolve into the wind that he controlled. In front of them, the Trojan sea monster spasmed one more time before finally collapsing and emitting golden vapor. With a small wave of his hand, Jason picked up the wind and swirled the dust away.

  Frank breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, this nightmarish monster was dead. Their quest was over. He turned to Jason, whose shoulders heaved up and down.

  “So, what’s up with the–AAAAH!”

  They plummeted out of the air, the wind suddenly dying. Jason flailed his arms out wildly, but his gaze was unfocused. Doing all that must have drained his powers and strength. “Frank!”

  Frank ignored the debris and ocean that was rapidly growing larger. He had to focus! “Come on, come on!”

  He repeated his grandmother’s mantra in his head, using it to concentrate. You can be anything, you can be anything…!

  At the last second, feathers grew on his arms and his body elongated into something sharper. Old reliable giant eagle snatched up Jason and soared away from their imminent death, and they both collapsed onto the island cliff. The sudden jump-scare definitely didn’t help their shared exhaustion. But sitting on solid ground again gave them all the time they needed to regain their breath.

  “Hah…hah…I think that’s enough flying for a week.” Jason gasped out, eyes staring at the sky.

  Frank followed his gaze, watching the dark clouds begin to clear with both the monster and Jason no longer controlling the weather. The sky was so bright, the sun so warm. He couldn’t help but sigh softly in contentment. “You and me both, dude.”

  Jason was quiet for a while, and Frank shot him a quick glance. He wasn’t blurring anymore, but Frank knew he hadn’t imagined it. There was still a slight glimmer under his friend’s skin, just a hint of the glowing veins. Frank was about to ask him about it, but caught himself just in time when he spotted Jason’s eyes closing.

  He smiled, watching Jason’s chest rise and fall rhythmically. They just defeated one of the biggest, baddest monsters of Roman mythology, and Frank assumed Jason was several more times fatigued than he was. He deserved a quick nap.

  Frank clenched his fist. His strategy had worked. He was changing things already in this timeline, and this was only more proof he had to step up and keep doing his duty.

  If they managed to save the world this time, most people wouldn’t even know the difference. They wouldn’t know what Frank and his friends went through to do it, and they certainly wouldn’t know it was their second try.

  If Frank was being honest, he didn’t think he wanted people to know.

  ‘I am one of the few who do know. And I will always know.

  They have impressed me, but I did not expect them to change so quickly. Are they already beginning to shed their mortal forms? Perhaps it is just the sons of Poseidon and Jupiter. Or perhaps the others will see changes soon as well.

  Being brought through the weaving of fate is something that has never been done to mortals. It seems the aftereffects are rearing their heads, but I can only hope it is simply an aesthetic to go along with their newfound strength.

  They could use that strength in their coming trials.