well, i cant really say anything about your story yet, cause this is all RR. when are you going to put original material?

DUDE THIS ISN'T COOL! THAT STOPS R.R's profits

Isn't this illegal? You can't go word by word or else you can be arrested

^Yep
How are you getting this? Are you sitting at your computer copying from the book? Waste of time...

o no its already out on net for free
i m just doin it for myself so i can read it easily on fanpop as my moble cant support .epub format

you can find the whole story on link

HAZEL



“YOUR BOW!” HAZEL SHOUTED.
Frank didn’t ask questions. He dropped his pack and slipped the bow off his shoulder.
Hazel’s heart raced. She hadn’t thought about this boggy soil—muskeg—since before she had died. Now, too late, she remembered the dire warnings the locals had given her. Marshy silt and decomposed plants made a surface that looked completely solid, but it was even worse than quicksand. It could be twenty feet deep or more, and impossible to escape.
She tried not to think what would happen if it were deeper than the length of the bow.
“Hold one end,” she told Frank. “Don’t let go.”
She grabbed the other end, took a deep breath, and jumped into the bog. The earth closed over her head.
Instantly, she was frozen in a memory.
Not now! she wanted to scream. Ella said I was done with blackouts!
Oh, but my dear, said the voice of Gaea, this is not one of your blackouts. This is a gift from me.
Hazel was back in New Orleans. She and her mother sat in the park near their apartment, having a picnic breakfast. She remembered this day. She was seven years old. Her mother had just sold Hazel’s first precious stone: a small diamond. Neither of them had yet realized Hazel’s curse.
Queen Marie was in an excellent mood. She had bought orange juice for Hazel and champagne for herself, and beignets sprinkled with chocolate and powdered sugar. She’d even bought Hazel a new box of crayons and a pad of paper. They sat together, Queen Marie humming cheerfully while Hazel drew pictures.
The French Quarter woke up around them, ready for Mardi Gras. Jazz bands practiced. Floats were being decorated with fresh-cut flowers. Children laughed and chased each other, decked in so many colored necklaces they could barely walk. The sunrise turned the sky to red gold, and the warm steamy air smelled of magnolias and roses.
It had been the happiest morning of Hazel’s life.
“You could stay here.” Her mother smiled, but her eyes were blank white. The voice was Gaea’s.
“This is fake,” Hazel said.
She tried to get up, but the soft bed of grass made her lazy and sleepy. The smell of baked bread and melting chocolate was intoxicating. It was the morning of Mardi Gras, and the world seemed full of possibilities. Hazel could almost believe she had a bright future.
“What is real?” asked Gaea, speaking through her mother’s face. “Is your second life real, Hazel? You’re supposed to be dead. Is it real that you’re sinking into a bog, suffocating?”
“Let me help my friend!” Hazel tried to force herself back to reality. She could imagine her hand clenched on the end of the bow, but even that was starting to feel fuzzy. Her grip was loosening. The smell of magnolias and roses was overpowering.
Her mother offered her a beignet.
No, Hazel thought. This isn’t my mother. This is Gaea tricking me.
“You want your old life back,” Gaea said. “I can give you that. This moment can last for years. You can grow up in New Orleans, and your mother will adore you. You’ll never have to deal with the burden of your curse. You can be with Sammy—”
“It’s an illusion!” Hazel said, choking on the sweet scent of flowers.
“You are an illusion, Hazel Levesque. You were only brought back to life because the gods have a task for you. I may have used you, but Nico used you and lied about it. You should be glad I captured him.”
“Captured?” A feeling of panic rose in Hazel’s chest. “What do you mean?”
Gaea smiled, sipping her champagne. “The boy should have known better than to search for the Doors. But no matter—it’s not really your concern. Once you release Thanatos, you’ll be thrown back into the Underworld to rot forever. Frank and Percy won’t stop that from happening. Would real friends ask you to give up your life? Tell me who is lying, and who tells you the truth.”
Hazel started to cry. Bitterness welled up inside her. She’d lost her life once. She didn’t want to die again.
“That’s right,” Gaea purred. “You were destined to marry Sammy. Do you know what happened to him after you died in Alaska? He grew up and moved to Texas. He married and had a family. But he never forgot you. He always wondered why you disappeared. He’s dead now—a heart attack in the nineteen-sixties. The life you could’ve had together always haunted him.”
“Stop it!” Hazel screamed. “You took that from me!”
“And you can have it again,” Gaea said. “I have you in my embrace, Hazel. You’ll die anyway. If you give up, at least I can make it pleasant for you. Forget saving Percy Jackson. He belongs to me. I’ll keep him safe in the earth until I’m ready to use him. You can have an entire life in your final moments—you can grow up, marry Sammy. All you have to do is let go.”
Hazel tightened her grip on the bow. Below her, something grabbed her ankles, but she didn’t panic. She knew it was Percy, suffocating, desperately grasping for a chance at life.
Hazel glared at the goddess. “I’ll never cooperate with you! LET—US—GO!”
Her mother’s face dissolved. The New Orleans morning melted into darkness. Hazel was drowning in mud, one hand on the bow, Percy’s hands around her ankles, deep in the darkness. Hazel wiggled the end of the bow frantically. Frank pulled her up with such force it nearly popped her arm out of the socket.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying in the grass, covered in muck. Percy sprawled at her feet, coughing and spitting mud.
Frank hovered over them, yelling, “Oh, gods! Oh, gods! Oh, gods!”
He yanked some extra clothes from his bag and started toweling off Hazel’s face, but it didn’t do much good. He dragged Percy farther from the muskeg.
“You were down there so long!” Frank cried. “I didn’t think—oh, gods, don’t ever do something like that again!”
He wrapped Hazel in a bear hug.
“Can’t—breathe,” she choked out.
“Sorry!” Frank went back to toweling and fussing over them. Finally he got them to the side of the road, where they sat and shivered and spit up mud clods.
Hazel couldn’t feel her hands. She wasn’t sure if she was cold or in shock, but she managed to explain about the muskeg, and the vision she’d seen while she was under. Not the part about Sammy—that was still too painful to say out loud—but she told them about Gaea’s offer of a fake life, and the goddess’ claim that she’d captured her brother Nico. Hazel didn’t want to keep that to herself. She was afraid the despair would overwhelm her.
Percy rubbed his shoulders. His lips were blue. “You—you saved me, Hazel. We’ll figure out what happened to Nico, I promise.”
Hazel squinted at the sun, which was now high in the sky.
The warmth felt good, but it didn’t stop her trembling. “Does it seem like Gaea let us go too easily?”
Percy plucked a mud clod from his hair. “Maybe she still wants us as pawns. Maybe she was just saying things to mess with your mind.”
“She knew what to say,” Hazel agreed. “She knew how to get to me.”
Frank put his jacket around her shoulders. “This is a real life. You know that, right? We’re not going to let you die again.”
He sounded so determined. Hazel didn’t want to argue, but she didn’t see how Frank could stop Death. She pressed her coat pocket, where Frank’s half-burned firewood was still securely wrapped. She wondered what would’ve happened to him if she’d sunk in the mud forever. Maybe that would have saved him. Fire couldn’t have gotten to the wood down there.
She would have made any sacrifice to keep Frank safe. Perhaps she hadn’t always felt that strongly, but Frank had trusted her with his life. He believed in her. She couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to him.
She glanced at the rising sun.…Time was running out. She thought about Hylla, the Amazon Queen back in Seattle. Hylla would have dueled Otrera two nights in a row by now, assuming she had survived. She was counting on Hazel to release Death.
She managed to stand. The wind coming off Resurrection Bay was just as cold as she remembered. “We should get going. We’re losing time.”
Percy gazed down the road. His lips were returning to their normal color. “Any hotels or something where we could clean off? I mean...hotels that accept mud people?”
“I’m not sure,” Hazel admitted.
She looked at the town below and couldn’t believe how much it had grown since 1942. The main harbor had moved east as the town had expanded. Most of the buildings were new to her, but the grid of downtown streets seemed familiar. She thought she recognized some warehouses along the shore. “I might know a place we can freshen up.”




WHEN THEY GOT INTO TOWN, Hazel followed the same route she’d used seventy years ago—the last night of her life, when she’d come home from the hills and found her mother missing.
She led her friends along Third Avenue. The railroad station was still there. The big white two-story Seward Hotel was still in business, though it had expanded to twice its old size. They thought about stopping there, but Hazel didn’t think it would be a good idea to traipse into the lobby covered in mud, nor was she sure the hotel would give a room to three minors.
Instead, they turned toward the shoreline. Hazel couldn’t believe it, but her old home was still there, leaning over the water on barnacle-encrusted piers. The roof sagged. The walls were perforated with holes like buckshot. The door was boarded-up, and a hand-painted sign read: ROOMS—STORAGE—AVAILABLE.
“Come on,” she said.
“Uh, you sure it’s safe?” Frank asked.
Hazel found an open window and climbed inside. Her friends followed. The room hadn’t been used in a long time. Their feet kicked up dust that swirled in the buckshot beams of sunlight. Mouldering cardboard boxes were stacked along the walls. Their faded labels read: Greeting Cards, Assorted Seasonal. Why several hundred boxes of season’s greetings hadwound up crumbling to dust in a warehouse in Alaska, Hazel had no idea, but it felt like a cruel joke: as if the cards were for all the holidays she’d never gotten to celebrate—decades of Christmases, Easters, birthdays, Valentine’s Days.
“It’s warmer in here, at least,” Frank said. “Guess no running water? Maybe I can go shopping. I’m not as muddy as you guys. I could find us some clothes.”
Hazel only half heard him.
She climbed over a stack of boxes in the corner that used to be her sleeping area. An old sign was propped against the wall: GOLD PROSPECTING SUPPLIES. She thought she’dfind a bare wall behind it, but when she moved the sign, most of her photos and drawings were still pinned there. The sign must have protected them from sunlight and the elements. They seemed not to have aged. Her crayon drawings of New Orleans looked so childish. Had she really made them? Her mother stared out at her from one photograph, smiling in front of her business sign: QUEEN MARIE’S GRIS-GRIS—CHARMS SOLD, FORTUNES TOLD.
Next to that was a photo of Sammy at the carnival. He was frozen in time with his crazy grin, his curly black hair, and those beautiful eyes. If Gaea was telling the truth, Sammy had been dead for over forty years. Had he really remembered Hazel all that time? Or had he forgotten the peculiar girl he used to go riding with—the girl who shared one kiss and a birthday cupcake with him before disappearing forever?
Frank’s fingers hovered over the photo. “Who…?” He saw that she was crying and clamped back his question. “Sorry, Hazel. This must be really hard. Do you want some time—”
“No,” she croaked. “No, it’s fine.”
“Is that your mother?” Percy pointed to the photo of QueenMarie. “She looks like you. She’s beautiful.”
Then Percy studied the picture of Sammy. “Who is that?”
Hazel didn’t understand why he looked so spooked. “That’s…that’s Sammy. He was my—uh—friend from New Orleans.” She forced herself not to look at Frank.
“I’ve seen him before,” Percy said.
“You couldn’t have,” Hazel said. “That was in 1941. He’s…he’s probably dead now.”
Percy frowned. “I guess. Still…” He shook his head, like the thought was too uncomfortable.
Frank cleared his throat. “Look, we passed a store on the last block. We’ve got a little money left. Maybe I should go get you guys some food and clothes and—I don’t know—a hundred boxes of wet wipes or something?”
Hazel put the gold prospecting sign back over her mementos. She felt guilty even looking at that old picture of Sammy, with Frank trying to be so sweet and supportive. It didn’t do her any good to think about her old life.
“That would be great,” she said. “You’re the best, Frank.”
The floorboards creaked under his feet. “Well…I’m the only one not completely covered in mud, anyway. Be back soon.”
Once he was gone, Percy and Hazel made temporary camp. They took off their jackets and tried to scrape off the mud. They found some old blankets in a crate and used them to clean up. They discovered that boxes of greeting cards made pretty good places to rest if you arranged them like mattresses.
Percy set his sword on the floor where it glowed with a faint bronze light. Then he stretched out on a bed of Merry Christmas 1982.
“Thank you for saving me,” he said. “I should’ve told you that earlier.”
Hazel shrugged. “You would have done the same for me.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But when I was down in the mud, I remembered that line from Ella’s prophecy—about the son of Neptune drowning. I thought. ‘This is what it means. I’m drowning in the earth.’ I was sure I was dead.”
His voice quavered like it had his first day at Camp Jupiter, when Hazel had shown him the shrine of Neptune. Back then she had wondered if Percy was the answer to her problems—the descendant of Neptune that Pluto had promised would take away her curse someday. Percy had seemed so intimidating and powerful, like a real hero.
Only now, she knew that Frank was a descendant of
Neptune, too. Frank wasn’t the most impressive-looking hero in the world, but he’d trusted her with his life. He tried so hard to protect her. Even his clumsiness was endearing.
She’d never felt more confused—and since she had spent her whole life confused, that was saying a lot.
“Percy,” she said, “that prophecy might not have been complete. Frank thought Ella was remembering a burned page. Maybe you’ll drown someone else.”
He looked at her cautiously. “You think so?”
Hazel felt strange reassuring him. He was so much older, and more in command. But she nodded confidently. “You’re going to make it back home. You’re going to see your girlfriend Annabeth.”
“You’ll make it back, too, Hazel,” he insisted. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. You’re too valuable to me, to the camp, and especially to Frank.”
Hazel picked up an old valentine. The lacy white paper fell apart in her hands. “I don’t belong in this century. Nico only brought me back so I could correct my mistakes, maybe get into Elysium.”
“There’s more to your destiny than that,” he said. “We’re supposed to fight Gaea together. I’m going to need you at my side way longer than just today. And Frank—you can see the guy is crazy about you. This life is worth fighting for, Hazel.”
She closed her eyes. “Please, don’t get my hopes up. I can’t—”
The window creaked open. Frank climbed in, triumphantly holding some shopping bags. “Success!”
He showed off his prizes. From a hunting store, he’d gotten a new quiver of arrows for himself, some rations, and a coil of rope.
“For the next time we run across muskeg,” he said.
From a local tourist shop, he had bought three sets of fresh clothes, some towels, some soap, some bottled water, and, yes, a huge box of wet wipes. It wasn’t exactly a hot shower, but Hazel ducked behind a wall of greeting card boxes to clean up and change. Soon she was feeling much better.
This is your last day, she reminded herself. Don’t get too comfortable.
The Feast of Fortuna—all the luck that happened today, good or bad, was supposed to be an omen of the entire year to come. One way or another, their quest would end this evening.
She slipped the piece of driftwood into her new coatpocket. Somehow, she’d have to make sure it stayed safe, no matter what happened to her. She could bear her own death as long as her friends survived.
“So,” she said. “Now we find a boat to Hubbard Glacier.”
She tried to sound confident, but it wasn’t easy. She wished Arion were still with her. She’d much rather ride into battle on that beautiful horse. Ever since they’d left Vancouver, she’d been calling to him in her thoughts, hoping he would hear her and come find her, but that was just wishful thinking.
Frank patted his stomach. “If we’re going to battle to the death, I want lunch first. I found the perfect place.”

Frank led them to a shopping plaza near the wharf, where an old railway car had been converted to a diner. Hazel had no memory of the place from the 1940s, but the food smelled amazing. While Frank and Percy ordered, Hazel wandered down to the docks and asked some questions. When she came back, she needed cheering up. Even the cheeseburger and fries didn’t do the trick.
“We’re in trouble,” she said. “I tried to get a boat. But…I miscalculated.”
“No boats?” Frank asked.
“Oh, I can get a boat,” Hazel said. “But the glacier is farther than I thought. Even at top speed, we couldn’t get there until tomorrow morning.”
Percy turned pale. “Maybe I could make the boat go faster?”
“Even if you could,” Hazel said, “from what the captains tell me, it’s treacherous—icebergs, mazes of channels to navigate. You’d have to know where you were going.”
“A plane?” Frank asked.
Hazel shook her head. “I asked the boat captains about that. They said we could try, but it’s a tiny airfield. You have to charter a plane two, three weeks in advance.”
They ate in silence after that. Hazel’s cheeseburger was excellent, but she couldn’t concentrate on it. She’d eaten about three bites when a raven settled on the telephone pole above and began to croak at them.
Hazel shivered. She was afraid it would speak to her like the other raven, so many years ago: The last night. Tonight. She wondered if ravens always appeared to children of Pluto when they were about to die. She hoped Nico was still alive, and Gaea had just been lying to make her unsettled. Hazel had a bad feeling that the goddess was telling the truth.
Nico had told her that he’d search for the Doors of Death from the other side. If he’d been captured by Gaea’s forces,
Hazel might’ve lost the only family she had.
She stared at her cheeseburger.
Suddenly, the raven’s cawing changed to a strangled yelp.
Frank got up so fast that he almost toppled the picnic table. Percy drew his sword.
Hazel followed their eyes. Perched on top of the pole where the raven had been, a fat ugly gryphon glared down at them. It burped, and raven feathers fluttered from its beak.
Hazel stood and unsheathed her spatha.
Frank nocked an arrow. He took aim, but the gryphon shrieked so loudly the sound echoed off the mountains. Frank flinched, and his shot went wide.
“I think that’s a call for help,” Percy warned. “We have to get out of here.”
With no clear plan, they ran for the docks. The gryphon dove after them. Percy slashed at it with his sword, but the gryphon veered out of reach.
They took the steps to the nearest pier and raced to the end. The gryphon swooped after them, its front claws extended for the kill. Hazel raised her sword, but an icy wall of water slammed sideways into the gryphon and washed it into the bay. The gryphon squawked and flapped its wings. It managed to scramble onto the pier, where it shook its black fur like a wet dog.
Frank grunted. “Nice one, Percy.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t know if I could still do that in Alaska. But bad news—look over there.” About a mile away, over the mountains, a black cloud was swirling—a whole flock of gryphons, dozens at least. There was no way they could fight that many, and no boat could take them away fast enough.
Frank nocked another arrow. “Not going down without a fight.”
Percy raised Riptide. “I’m with you.”
Then Hazel heard a sound in the distance—like the whinnying of a horse. She must’ve been imagining it, but she cried out desperately, “Arion! Over here!”
A tan blur came ripping down the street and onto the pier. The stallion materialized right behind the gryphon, brought down his front hooves, and smashed the monster to dust.
Hazel had never been so happy in her life. “Good horse! Really good horse!”
Frank backed up and almost fell off the pier. “How—?”
“He followed me!” Hazel beamed. “Because he’s the best—horse—EVER! Now, get on!”
“All three of us?” Percy said. “Can he handle it?”
Arion whinnied indignantly.
“All right, no need to be rude,” Percy said. “Let’s go.”
They climbed on, Hazel in front, Frank and Percy balancing precariously behind her. Frank wrapped his arms around her waist, and Hazel thought that if this was going to be her last day on earth—it wasn’t a bad way to go out.
“Run, Arion!” she cried. “To Hubbard Glacier!”
The horse shot across the water, his hooves turning the top of the sea to steam.




RIDING ARION, HAZEL FELT POWERFUL, unstoppable, absolutely in control—a perfect combination of horse and human. She wondered if this was what it was like to be a centaur.
The boat captains in Seward had warned her it was three hundred nautical miles to the Hubbard Glacier, a hard, dangerous journey, but Arion had no trouble. He raced over the water at the speed of sound, heating the air around them so that Hazel didn’t even feel the cold. On foot, she never would have felt so brave. On horseback, she couldn’t wait to charge into battle.
Frank and Percy didn’t look so happy. When Hazel glanced back, their teeth were clenched and their eyeballs were bouncing around in their heads. Frank’s cheeks jiggled from the g-force. Percy sat in back, hanging on tight, desperately trying not to slip off the horse’s rear. Hazel hoped that didn’t happen. The way Arion was moving, she might not notice he was gone for fifty or sixty miles.
They raced through icy straits, past blue fjords and cliffs with waterfalls spilling into the sea. Arion jumped over a breaching humpback whale and kept galloping, startling a pack of seals off an iceberg.
It seemed like only minutes before they zipped into a narrow bay. The water turned the consistency of shaved ice in blue sticky syrup. Arion came to a halt on a frozen turquoise slab.
A half a mile away stood Hubbard Glacier. Even Hazel, who’d seen glaciers before, couldn’t quite process what she was looking at. Purple snowcapped mountains marched off in either direction, with clouds floating around their middles like fluffy belts. In a massive valley between two of the largest peaks, a ragged wall of ice rose out of the sea, filling the entire gorge. The glacier was blue and white with streaks of black, so that it looked like a hedge of dirty snow left behind on a sidewalk after a snowplow had gone by, only four million times as large.
As soon as Arion stopped, Hazel felt the temperature drop. All that ice was sending off waves of cold, turning the bay into the world’s largest refrigerator. The eeriest thing was a sound like thunder that rolled across the water.
“What is that?” Frank gazed at the clouds above the glacier. “A storm?”
“No,” Hazel said. “Ice cracking and shifting. Millions of tons of ice.”
“You mean that thing is breaking up?” Frank asked.
As if on cue, a sheet of ice silently calved off the side of the glacier and crashed into the sea, spraying water and frozen shrapnel several stories high. A millisecond later the sound hit them—a BOOM almost as jarring as Arion hitting the sound barrier.
“We can’t get close to that thing!” Frank said.
“We have to,” Percy said. “The giant is at the top.”
Arion nickered.
“Jeez, Hazel,” Percy said, “tell your horse to watch his language.”
Hazel tried not to laugh. “What did he say?”
“With the cussing removed? He said he can get us to the top.”
Frank looked incredulous. “I thought the horse couldn’t fly!”
This time Arion whinnied so angrily, even Hazel could guess he was cursing.
“Dude,” Percy told the horse, “I’ve gotten suspended for saying less than that. Hazel, he promises you’ll see what he can do as soon as you give the word.”
“Um, hold on, then, you guys,” Hazel said nervously. “Arion, giddyup!”
Arion shot toward the glacier like a runaway rocket, barreling straight across the slush like he wanted to play chicken with the mountain of ice.
The air grew colder. The crackling of the ice grew louder. As Arion closed the distance, the glacier loomed so large, Hazel got vertigo just trying to take it all in. The side was riddled with crevices and caves, spiked with jagged ridges like ax blades. Pieces were constantly crumbling off—some no larger than snowballs, some the size of houses.
When they were about fifty yards from the base, a thunderclap rattled Hazel’s bones, and a curtain of ice that would have covered Camp Jupiter calved away and fell toward them.
“Look out!” Frank shouted, which seemed a little unnecessary to Hazel.
Arion was way ahead of him. In a burst of speed, he zigzagged through the debris, leaping over chunks of ice and clambering up the face of the glacier.
Percy and Frank both cussed like horses and held on desperately while Hazel wrapped her arms around Arion’s neck. Somehow, they managed not to fall off as Arion scaled the cliffs, jumping from foothold to foothold with impossible speed and agility. It was like falling down a mountain in reverse.
Then it was over. Arion stood proudly at the top of a ridge of ice that loomed over the void. The sea was now three hundred feet below them.
Arion whinnied a challenge that echoed off the mountains. Percy didn’t translate, but Hazel was pretty sure Arion was calling out to any other horses that might be in the bay: Beat that, ya punks!
Then he turned and ran inland across the top of the glacier, leaping a chasm fifty feet across.
“There!” Percy pointed.
The horse stopped. Ahead of them stood a frozen Roman camp like a giant-sized ghastly replica of Camp Jupiter. The trenches bristled with ice spikes. The snow-brick ramparts glared blinding white. Hanging from the guard towers, banners of frozen blue cloth shimmered in the arctic sun.
There was no sign of life. The gates stood wide open. No sentries walked the walls. Still, Hazel had an uneasy feeling in her gut. She remembered the cave in Resurrection Bay where she’d worked to raise Alcyoneus—the oppressive sense of malice and the constant boom, boom, boom, like Gaea’s heartbeat. This place felt similar, as if the earth were trying to wake up and consume everything—as if the mountains on either side wanted to crush them and the entire glacier to pieces.
Arion trotted skittishly.
“Frank,” Percy said, “how about we go on foot from here?”
Frank sighed with relief. “Thought you’d never ask.”
They dismounted and took some tentative steps. The ice seemed stable, covered with a fine carpet of snow so that it wasn’t too slippery.
Hazel urged Arion forward. Percy and Frank walked on either side, sword and bow ready. They approached the gates without being challenged. Hazel was trained to spot pits, snares, trip lines, and all sorts of other traps Roman legions had faced for eons in enemy territory, but she saw nothing—just the yawning icy gates and the frozen banners crackling in the wind.
She could see straight down the Via Praetoria. At the crossroads, in front of the snow-brick principia, a tall, dark- robed figure stood, bound in icy chains.
“Thanatos,” Hazel murmured.
She felt as if her soul were being pulled forward, drawn toward Death like dust toward a vacuum. Her vision went dark. She almost fell off Arion, but Frank caught her and propped her up.
“We’ve got you,” he promised. “Nobody’s taking you away.”
Hazel gripped his hand. She didn’t want to let go. He was so solid, so reassuring, but Frank couldn’t protect her from Death. His own life was as fragile as a half-burned piece of wood.
“I’m all right,” she lied.
Percy looked around uneasily. “No defenders? No giant? This has to be a trap.”
“Obviously,” Frank said. “But I don’t think we have a choice.”
Before Hazel could change her mind, she urged Arion through the gates. The layout was so familiar—cohort barracks, baths, armory. It was an exact replica of Camp Jupiter, except three times as big. Even on horseback, Hazel felt tiny and insignificant, as if they were moving through a model city constructed by the gods.
They stopped ten feet from the robed figure.
Now that she was here, Hazel felt a reckless urge to finish the quest. She knew she was in more danger than when she’d been fighting the Amazons, or fending off the gryphons, or climbing the glacier on Arion’s back. Instinctively she knew that Thanatos could simply touch her, and she would die.
But she also had a feeling that if she didn’t see the quest through, if she didn’t face her fate bravely, she would still die—in cowardice and failure. The judges of the dead wouldn’t be lenient to her a second time.
Arion cantered back and forth, sensing her disquiet.
“Hello?” Hazel forced out the word. “Mr. Death?”
The hooded figure raised his head.
Instantly, the whole camp stirred to life. Figures in Roman armor emerged from the barracks, the principia, the armory, and the canteen, but they weren’t human. They were shades—the chattering ghosts Hazel had lived with for decades in the Fields of Asphodel. Their bodies weren’t much more than wisps of black vapor, but they managed to hold together sets of scale armor, greaves, and helmets. Frost-covered swords were strapped to their waists. Pila and dented shields floated in their smoky hands. The plumes on the centurions’ helmets were frozen and ragged. Most of the shades were on foot, but two soldiers burst out of the stables in a golden chariot pulled by ghostly black steeds.
When Arion saw the horses, he stamped the ground in outrage.
Frank gripped his bow. “Yep, here’s the trap.”

THE GHOSTS FORMED RANKS AND ENCIRCLED the crossroads. There were about a hundred in all—not an entire legion, but more than a cohort. Some carried the tattered lightning bolt banners of the Twelfth Legion, Fifth Cohort—Michael
Varus’s doomed expedition from the 1980s. Others carried standards and insignia Hazel didn’t recognize, as if they’d died at different times, on different quests—maybe not even from Camp Jupiter.
Most were armed with Imperial gold weapons—more Imperial gold than the entire Twelfth Legion possessed. Hazel could feel the combined power of all that gold humming around her, even scarier than the crackling of the glacier. She wondered if she could use her power to control the weapons, maybe disarm the ghosts, but she was afraid to try. Imperial gold wasn’t just a precious metal. It was deadly to demigods and monsters. Trying to control that much at once would be like trying to control plutonium in a reactor. If she failed, she might wipe Hubbard Glacier off the map and kill her friends.
“Thanatos!” Hazel turned to the robed figure. “We’re here to rescue you. If you control these shades, tell them—”
Her voice faltered. The god’s hood fell away and his robes dropped off as he spread his wings, leaving him in only a sleeveless black tunic belted at the waist. He was the most beautiful man Hazel had ever seen.
His skin was the color of teakwood, dark and glistening like Queen Marie’s old séance table. His eyes were as honey gold as Hazel’s. He was lean and muscular, with a regal face and black hair flowing down his shoulders. His wings glimmered in shades of blue, black, and purple.
Hazel reminded herself to breathe.
Beautiful was the right word for Thanatos—not handsome, or hot, or anything like that. He was beautiful the way an angel is beautiful—timeless, perfect, remote.
“Oh,” she said in a small voice.
The god’s wrists were shackled in icy manacles, with chains that ran straight into the glacier floor. His feet were bare, shackled around the ankles and also chained.
“It’s Cupid,” Frank said.
“A really buff Cupid,” Percy agreed.
“You compliment me,” Thanatos said. His voice was as gorgeous as he was—deep and melodious. “I am frequently mistaken for the god of love. Death has more in common with Love than you might imagine. But I am Death. I assure you.”
Hazel didn’t doubt it. She felt as if she were made of ashes. Any second, she might crumble and be sucked into the vacuum. She doubted Thanatos even needed to touch her to kill her. He could simply tell her to die. She would keel over on the spot, her soul obeying that beautiful voice and those kind eyes.
“We’re—we’re here to save you,” she managed. “Where’s Alcyoneus?”
“Save me…?” Thanatos narrowed his eyes. “Do you understand what you are saying, Hazel Levesque? Do you understand what that will mean?”
Percy stepped forward. “We’re wasting time.”
He swung his sword at the god’s chains. Celestial bronze rang against the ice, but Riptide stuck to the chain like glue. Frost began creeping up the blade. Percy pulled frantically. Frank ran to help. Together, they just managed to yank Riptide free before the frost reached their hands.
“That won’t work,” Thanatos said simply. “As for the giant, he is close. These shades are not mine. They are his.”
Thanatos’s eyes scanned the ghost soldiers. They shifted uncomfortably, as if an arctic wind were rattling through their ranks.
“So how do we get you out?” Hazel demanded.
Thanatos turned his attention back to her. “Daughter of Pluto, child of my master, you of all people should not wish me released.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Hazel’s eyes stung, but she was done being afraid. She’d been a scared little girl seventy years ago. She’d lost her mother because she acted too late. Now she was a soldier of Rome. She wasn’t going to fail again. She wasn’t going to let down her friends.
“Listen, Death.” She drew her cavalry sword, and Arion reared in defiance. “I didn’t come back from the Underworld and travel thousands of miles to be told that I’m stupid for setting you free. If I die, I die. I’ll fight this whole army if I have to. Just tell us how to break your chains.”
Thanatos studied her for a heartbeat. “Interesting. You do understand that these shades were once demigods like you. They fought for Rome. They died without completing their heroic quests. Like you, they were sent to Asphodel. Now Gaea has promised them a second life if they fight for her today. Of course, if you release me and defeat them, they will have to return to the Underworld where they belong. For treason against the gods, they will face eternal punishment. They are not so different from you, Hazel Levesque. Are you sure you want to release me and damn these souls forever?”
Frank clenched his fists. “That’s not fair! Do you want to be freed or not?”
“Fair…” Death mused. “You’d be amazed how often I hear that word, Frank Zhang, and how meaningless it is. Is it fair that your life will burn so short and bright? Was it fair when I guided your mother to the Underworld?”
Frank staggered like he’d been punched.
“No,” Death said sadly. “Not fair. And yet it was her time. There is no fairness in Death. If you free me, I will do my duty. But of course these shades will try to stop you.”
“So if we let you go,” Percy summed up, “we get mobbed by a bunch of black vapor dudes with gold swords. Fine. How do we break those chains?”
Thanatos smiled. “Only the fire of life can melt the chains of death.”
“Without the riddles, please?” Percy asked.
Frank drew a shaky breath. “It isn’t a riddle.”
“Frank, no,” Hazel said weakly. “There’s got to be another way.”
Laughter boomed across the glacier. A rumbling voice said: “My friends. I’ve waited so long!”
Standing at the gates of the camp was Alcyoneus. He was even larger than the giant Polybotes they’d seen in California. He had metallic golden skin, armor made from platinum links, and an iron staff the size of a totem pole. His rust-red dragon legs pounded against the ice as he entered the camp. Precious stones glinted in his red braided hair.
Hazel had never seen him fully formed, but she knew him better than she knew her own parents. She had made him. For months, she had raised gold and gems from the earth to create this monster. She knew the diamonds he used for a heart. She knew the oil that ran in his veins instead of blood. More than anything, she wanted to destroy him.
The giant approached, grinning at her with his solid silver teeth.
“Ah, Hazel Levesque,” he said, “you cost me dearly! If not for you, I would have risen decades ago, and this world would already be Gaea’s. But no matter!”
He spread his hands, showing off the ranks of ghostly soldiers. “Welcome, Percy Jackson! Welcome, Frank Zhang! I am Alcyoneus, the bane of Pluto, the new master of Death. And this is your new legion.”

FRANK


NO FAIRNESS IN DEATH. Those words kept ringing in Frank’s head.
The golden giant didn’t scare him. The army of shades didn’t scare him. But the thought of freeing Thanatos made Frank want to curl into the fetal position. This god had taken his mother.
Frank understood what he had to do to break those chains. Mars had warned him. He’d explained why he loved Emily Zhang so much: She always put her duty first, ahead of everything. Even her life.
Now it was Frank’s turn.
His mother’s sacrifice medal felt warm in his pocket. He finally understood his mother’s choice, saving her comrades at the cost of her own life. He got what Mars had been trying to tell him—Duty. Sacrifice. They mean something.
In Frank’s chest, a hard knot of anger and resentment—a lump of grief he’d been carrying since the funeral—finally began to dissolve. He understood why his mother never came home. Some things were worth dying for.
“Hazel.” He tried to keep his voice steady. “That package you’re keeping for me? I need it.”
Hazel glanced at him in dismay. Sitting on Arion, she looked like a queen, powerful and beautiful, her brown hair swept over her shoulders and a wreath of icy mist around her head. “Frank, no. There has to be another way.”
“Please. I—I know what I’m doing.”
Thanatos smiled and lifted his manacled wrists. “You’re right, Frank Zhang. Sacrifices must be made.”
Great. If Death approved of his plan, Frank was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like the results.
The giant Alcyoneus stepped forward, his reptilian feet shaking the ground. “What package do you speak of, Frank Zhang? Have you brought me a present?”
“Nothing for you, Golden Boy,” Frank said. “Except a whole lot of pain.”
The giant roared with laughter. “Spoken like a child of Mars! Too bad I have to kill you. And this one...my, my, I’ve been waiting to meet the famous Percy Jackson.”
The giant grinned. His silver teeth made his mouth look like a car grille.
“I’ve followed your progress, son of Neptune,” said Alcyoneus. “Your fight with Kronos? Well done. Gaea hates you above all others…except perhaps for that upstart Jason Grace. I’m sorry I can’t kill you right away, but my brother Polybotes wishes to keep you as a pet. He thinks it will be amusing when he destroys Neptune to have the god’s favorite son on a leash. After that, of course, Gaea has plans for you.”
“Yeah, flattering.” Percy raised Riptide. “But actually I’m the son of Poseidon. I’m from Camp Half-Blood.”
The ghosts stirred. Some drew swords and lifted shields. Alcyoneus raised his hand, gesturing for them to wait.
“Greek, Roman, it doesn’t matter,” the giant said easily. “We will crush both camps underfoot. You see, the Titans didn’t think big enough. They planned to destroy the godsin their new home of America. We giants know better! To kill a weed, you must pull up its roots. Even now, while my forces destroy your little Roman camp, my brother Porphyrionis preparing for the real battle in the ancient lands! We will destroy the gods at their source.”
The ghosts pounded their swords against their shields. The sound echoed across the mountains.
“The source?” Frank asked. “You mean Greece?”
Alcyoneus chuckled. “No need to worry about that, son of Mars. You won’t live long enough to see our ultimate victory.
I will replace Pluto as lord of the Underworld. I already have Death in my custody. With Hazel Levesque in my service, I will have all the riches under the earth as well!”
Hazel gripped her spatha. “I don’t do service.”
“Oh, but you gave me life!” Alcyoneus said. “True, we hoped to awaken Gaea during World War II. That would’ve been glorious. But really, the world is in almost as bad a shape now. Soon, your civilization will be wiped out. The Doors of Death will stand open. Those who serve us will never perish. Alive or dead, you three will join my army.”
Percy shook his head. “Fat chance, Golden Boy. You’re going down.”
“Wait.” Hazel spurred her horse toward the giant. “I raised this monster from the earth. I’m the daughter of Pluto. It’s my place to kill him.”
“Ah, little Hazel.” Alcyoneus planted his staff on the ice. His hair glittered with millions of dollars’ worth of gems. “Are you sure you will not join us of your own free will? You could be quite ... precious to us. Why die again?” Hazel’s eyes flashed with anger. She looked down at Frank and pulled the wrapped-up piece of firewood from her coat.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he said.
She pursed her lips. “You’re my best friend, too, Frank. I should have told you that.” She tossed him the stick. “Do what you have to. And Percy…can you protect him?”
Percy gazed at the ranks of ghostly Romans. “Against a small army? Sure, no problem.”
“Then I’ve got Golden Boy,” Hazel said.
She charged the giant.



FRANK UNWRAPPED THE FIREWOOD and knelt at the feet of Th anatos.
He was aware of Percy standing over him, swinging his sword and yelling in defiance as the ghosts closed in. He heard the giant bellow and Arion whinny angrily, but he didn’t dare look.
His hands trembling, he held his piece of tinder next to the chains on Death’s right leg. He thought about flames, and instantly the wood blazed.
Horrible warmth spread through Frank’s body. The icy metal began to melt, the flame so bright it was more blinding than the ice.
“Good,” Thanatos said. “Very good, Frank Zhang.”
Frank had heard about people’s lives flashing before their eyes, but now he experienced it literally. He saw his mother the day she left for Afghanistan. She smiled and hugged him. He tried to breath in her jasmine scent so he’d never forget it.
I will always be proud of you, Frank, she said. Someday, you’ll travel even farther than I. You’ll bring our family full circle. Years from now, our descendants will be telling stories about the hero Frank Zhang, their great-, great-, great-—She poked him in the belly for old times’ sake. It would be the last time Frank smiled for months.
He saw himself at the picnic bench in Moose Pass, watching the stars and the northern lights as Hazel snored softly beside him, Percy saying, Frank, you are a leader. We need you.
He saw Percy disappearing into the muskeg, then Hazel diving after him. Frank remembered how alone he had felt holding on to the bow, how utterly powerless. He had pleaded with the Olympian gods—even Mars—to help his friends, but he knew they were beyond the gods’ reach.
With a clank, the first chain broke. Quickly, Frank stabbed the firewood at the chain on Death’s other leg.
He risked a glance over his shoulder.
Percy was fighting like a whirlwind. In fact…he was a whirlwind. A miniature hurricane of water and ice vapor churned around him as he waded through the enemy, knocking Roman ghosts away, deflecting arrows and spears. Since when did he have that power?
He moved through the enemy lines, and even though he seemed to be leaving Frank undefended, the enemy was completely focused on Percy. Frank wasn’t sure why—then he saw Percy’s goal. One of the black vapory ghosts was wearing the lion’s-skin cape of a standard bearer and holding a pole with a golden eagle, icicles frozen to its wings. The legion’s standard.
Frank watched as Percy plowed through a line of legionnaires, scattering their shields with his personal cyclone. He knocked down the standard bearer and grabbed the eagle.
“You want it back?” he shouted at the ghosts. “Come and get it!”
He drew them away, and Frank couldn’t help being awed by his bold strategy. As much as those shades wanted to keep Thanatos chained, they were Roman spirits. Their minds were fuzzy at best, like the ghosts Frank had seen in Asphodel, but they remembered one thing clearly: they were supposed to protect their eagle.
Still, Percy couldn’t fight off that many enemies forever. Maintaining a storm like that had to be difficult. Despite the cold, his face was already beaded with sweat.
Frank looked for Hazel. He couldn’t see her or the giant.
“Watch your fire, boy,” Death warned. “You don’t have any to waste.”
Frank cursed. He’d gotten so distracted, he hadn’t noticed the second chain had melted.
He moved his fire to the shackles on the god’s right hand. The piece of tinder was almost half gone now. Frank started to shiver. More images flashed through his mind. He saw Mars sitting at his grandmother’s bedside, looking at Frank with those nuclear explosion eyes: You’re Juno’s secret weapon. Have you figured out your gift yet?
He heard his mother say: You can be anything.
Then he saw Grandmother’s stern face, her skin as thin as rice paper, her white hair spread across her pillow. Yes, Fai Zhang. Your mother was not simply boosting your self-esteem. She was telling you the literal truth.
He thought of the grizzly bear his mother had intercepted at the edge of the woods. He thought of the large black bird circling over the flames of their family mansion.
The third chain snapped. Frank thrust the tinder at the last shackle. His body was racked with pain. Yellow splotches danced in his eyes.
He saw Percy at the end of the Via Principalis, holding off the army of ghosts. He’d overturned the chariot and destroyed several buildings, but every time he threw off a wave of attackers in his hurricane, the ghosts simply got up and charged again. Every time Percy slashed one of them down with his sword, the ghost re-formed immediately. Percy had backed up almost as far as he could go. Behind him was the side gate of the camp, and about twenty feet beyond that, the edge of the glacier.
As for Hazel, she and Alcyoneus had managed to destroy most of the barracks in their battle. Now they were fighting in the wreckage at the main gate. Arion was playing a dangerous game of tag, charging around the giant while Alyconeus swiped at them with his staff, knocking over walls and cleaving massive chasms in the ice. Only Arion’s speed kept them alive.
Finally, Death’s last chain snapped. With a desperate yelp, Frank jabbed his firewood into a pile of snow and extinguished the flame. His pain faded. He was still alive. But when he took out the piece of tinder, it was no more than a stub, smaller than a candy bar.
Thanatos raised his arms.
“Free,” he said with satisfaction.
“Great.” Frank blinked the spots from his eyes. “Then do something!”
Thanatos gave him a calm smile. “Do something? Of course. I will watch. Those who die in this battle will stay dead.”
“Thanks,” Frank muttered, slipping his firewood into his coat. “Very helpful.”
“You’re most welcome,” Thanatos said agreeably.
“Percy!” Frank yelled. “They can die now!”
Percy nodded understanding, but he looked worn out. His hurricane was slowing down. His strikes were getting slower. The entire ghostly army had him surrounded, gradually forcing him toward the edge of the glacier.
Frank drew his bow to help. Then he dropped it. Normal arrows from a hunting store in Seward wouldn’t do any good. Frank would have to use his gift.
He thought he understood his powers at last. Something about watching the firewood burn, smelling the acrid smoke of his own life, had made him feel strangely confident.
Is it fair your life burns so short and bright? Death had asked.
“No such thing as fair,” Frank told himself. “If I’m going to burn, it might as well be bright.”
He took one step toward Percy. Then, from across the camp, Hazel yelled in pain. Arion screamed as the giant got a lucky shot. His staff sent horse and rider tumbling over the ice, crashing into the ramparts.
“Hazel!” Frank glanced back at Percy, wishing he had his spear. If he could just summon Gray…but he couldn’t be in two places at once.
“Go help her!” Percy yelled, holding the golden eagle aloft. “I’ve got these guys!”
Percy didn’t have them. Frank knew that. The son of Poseidon was about to be overwhelmed, but Frank ran to Hazel’s aid.
She was half-buried in a collapsed pile of snow-bricks. Arion stood over her, trying to protect her, rearing and swatting at the giant with his front hooves.
The giant laughed. “Hello, little pony. You want to play?”
Alcyoneus raised his icy staff.
Frank was too far away to help…but he imagined himself rushing forward, his feet leaving the ground.
Be anything.
He remembered the bald eagles they’d seen on the train ride. His body became smaller and lighter. His arms stretched into wings, and his sight became a thousand times sharper. He soared upward, then dove at the giant with his talons extended, his razor-sharp claws raking across the giant’s eyes.
Alcyoneus bellowed in pain. He staggered backward as Frank landed in front of Hazel and returned to his normal form.
“Frank…” She stared at him in amazement, a cap of snow dripping off her head. “What just…how did—?”
“Fool!” Alcyoneus shouted. His face was slashed, black oil dripping into his eyes instead of blood, but the wounds were already closing. “I am immortal in my homeland, Frank Zhang! And thanks to your friend Hazel, my new homeland is Alaska. You cannot kill me here!”
“We’ll see,” Frank said. Power coursed through his arms and legs. “Hazel, get back on your horse.”
The giant charged, and Frank charged to meet him. He remembered the bear he’d met face to face when he was a child. As he ran, his body became heavier, thicker, rippling with muscles. He crashed into the giant as a full-grown grizzly, a thousand pounds of pure force. He was still small compared to Alcyoneus, but he slammed into the giant with such momentum, Alcyoneus toppled into an icy watchtower that collapsed on top of him.
Frank sprang at the giant’s head. A swipe of his claw was like a heavyweight fighter swinging a chain saw. Frank bashed the giant’s face back and forth until his metallic features began to dent.
“Urgg,” the giant mumbled in a stupor.
Frank changed to his regular form. His backpack was still with him. He grabbed the rope he’d bought in Seward, quickly made a noose, and fastened it around the giant’s scaly dragon foot.
“Hazel, here!” He tossed her the other end of the rope. “I’ve got an idea, but we’ll have to—”
“Kill—uh—you—uh…” Alcyoneus muttered.
Frank ran to the giant’s head, picked up the nearest heavy object he could find—a legion shield—and slammed it into the giant’s nose.
The giant said, “Urgg.”
Frank looked back at Hazel. “How far can Arion pull this guy?”
Hazel just stared at him. “You—you were a bird. Then a bear. And—”
“I’ll explain later,” Frank said. “We need to drag this guy inland, as fast and far as we can.”
“But Percy!” Hazel said.
Frank cursed. How could he have forgotten?
Through the ruins of the camp, he saw Percy with his back to the edge of the cliff. His hurricane was gone. He held Riptide in one hand and the legion’s golden eagle in the other. The entire army of shades edged forward, their weapons bristling.
“Percy!” Frank yelled.
Percy glanced over. He saw the fallen giant and seemed to understand what was happening. He yelled something that was lost in the wind, probably: Go!
Then he slammed Riptide into the ice at his feet. The entire glacier shuddered. Ghosts fell to their knees. Behind Percy, a wave surged up from the bay—a wall of gray water even taller than the glacier. Water shot from the chasms and crevices in the ice. As the wave hit, the back half of the camp crumbled. The entire edge of the glacier peeled away, cascading into the void—carrying buildings, ghosts, and Percy Jackson over the edge.


FRANK WAS SO STUNNED THAT Hazel had to yell his name a dozen times before he realized Alcyoneus was getting up again.
He slammed his shield into the giant’s nose until Alcyoneus began to snore. Meanwhile the glacier kept crumbling, the edge getting closer and closer.
Thanatos glided toward them on his black wings, his expression serene.
“Ah, yes,” he said with satisfaction. “There go some souls. Drowning, drowning. You’d best hurry, my friends, or you’ll drown, too.”
“But Percy…” Frank could barely speak his friend’s name. “Is he—?”
“Too soon to tell. As for this one…” Thanatos looked down at Alcyoneus with distaste. “You’ll never kill him here. You know what to do?”
Frank nodded numbly. “I think so.”
“Then our business is complete.”
Frank and Hazel exchanged nervous looks.
“Um…” Hazel faltered. “You mean you won’t…you’re not going to—”“Claim your life?” Thanatos asked. “Well, let’s see…”
He pulled a pure-black iPad from thin air. Death tapped the screen a few times, and all Frank could think was: Please don’t let there be an app for reaping souls.
“I don’t see you on the list,” Thanatos said. “Pluto gives me specific orders for escaped souls, you see. For some reason, he has not issued a warrant for yours. Perhaps he feels your life is not finished, or it could be an oversight. If you’d like me to call and ask—”
“No!” Hazel yelped. “That’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” Death asked helpfully. “I have video conferencing enabled. I have his Skype address here somewhere...”
“Really, no.” Hazel looked as if several thousand pounds of worry had just been lifted from her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Urgg,” Alcyoneus mumbled.
Frank hit him over the head again.
Death looked up from his iPad. “As for you, Frank Zhang, it isn’t your time, either. You’ve got a little fuel left to burn. But don’t think I’m doing either of you a favor. We will meet again under less pleasant circumstances.”
The cliff was still crumbling, the edge only twenty feet away now. Arion whinnied impatiently. Frank knew they had to leave, but there was one more question he had to ask.
“What about the Doors of Death?” he said. “Where are they? How do we close them?”
“Ah, yes.” A look of irritation flickered across Thanatos’s face. “The Doors of Me. Closing them would be good, but I fear it is beyond my power. How you would do it, I haven’t the faintest idea. I can’t tell you exactly where they are. The location isn’t…well, it’s not entirely a physical place. They must be located through questing. I can tell you to start your search in Rome. The original Rome. You will need a special guide. Only one sort of demigod can read the signs that will ultimately lead you to the Doors of Me.”
Cracks appeared in the ice under their feet. Hazel patted Arion’s neck to keep him from bolting.
“What about my brother?” she asked. “Is Nico alive?”
Thanatos gave her a strange look—possibly pity, though that didn’t seem like an emotion Death would understand. “You will find the answer in Rome. And now I must fly south to your Camp Jupiter. I have a feeling there will be many souls to reap, very soon. Farewell, demigods, until we meet again.”
Thanatos dissipated into black smoke.
The cracks widened in the ice under Frank’s feet.
“Hurry!” he told Hazel. “We’ve got to take Alcyoneus about ten miles due north!”
He climbed onto the giant’s chest and Arion took off, racing across the ice, dragging Alcyoneus like the world’s ugliest sled.

It was a short trip.
Arion rode the glacier like a highway, zipping across the ice, leaping crevices, and skidding down slopes that would’ve made a snowboarder’s eyes light up.
Frank didn’t have to knock out Alcyoneus too many times, because the giant’s head kept bouncing and hitting the ice. As they raced along, the half-conscious Golden Boy mumbled a tune that sounded like “Jingle Bells.”
Frank felt pretty stunned himself. He’d just turned into an eagle and a bear. He could still feel fluid energy rippling through his body, like he was halfway between a solid and liquid state.
Not only that: Hazel and he had released Death, and both of them had survived. And Percy…Frank swallowed down his fear. Percy had gone over the side of the glacier to save them.
The son of Neptune shall drown.
No. Frank refused to believe Percy was dead. They hadn’t come all this way just to lose their friend. Frank would find him—but first they had to deal with Alcyoneus.
He visualized the map he had been studying on the train from Anchorage. He knew roughly where they were going, but there were no signs or markers on top of the glacier. He’d just have to take his best guess.
Finally Arion zoomed between two mountains into a valley of ice and rocks, like a massive bowl of frozen milk with bits of Cocoa Puffs. The giant’s golden skin paled as if it were turning to brass. Frank felt a subtle vibration in his own body, like a tuning fork pressed against his sternum. He knew he’d crossed into friendly territory—home territory.
“Here!” Frank shouted.
Arion veered to one side. Hazel cut the rope, and Alcyoneus went skidding past. Frank leaped off just before the giant slammed into a boulder.
Immediately Alcyoneus jumped to his feet. “What? Where? Who?”
His nose was bent in an odd direction. His wounds had healed, though his golden skin had lost some of its luster. He looked around for his iron staff, which was still back at Hubbard Glacier. Then he gave up and pounded the nearest boulder to pieces with his fist.
“You dare take me for a sleigh ride?” He tensed and sniffed the air. “That smell…like snuffed-out souls. Thanatos is free, eh? Bah! It doesn’t matter. Gaea still controls the Doors of Death. Now, why have you brought me here, son of Mars?”
“To kill you,” Frank said. “Next question?”
The giant’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never known a child of Mars who can change his form, but that doesn’t mean you can defeat me. Do you think your stupid soldier of a father gave you the strength to face me in one-on-one combat?”
Hazel drew her sword. “How about two on one?”
The giant growled and charged at Hazel, but Arion nimbly darted out of the way. Hazel slashed her sword across the back of the giant’s calf. Black oil spouted from the wound.
Alcyoneus stumbled. “You can’t kill me, Thanatos or no!”
Hazel made a grabbing gesture with her free hand. An invisible force yanked the giant’s jewel-encrusted hair back ward. Hazel rushed in, slashed his other leg, and raced away before he could regain his balance.
“Stop that!” Alcyoneus shouted. “This is Alaska. I am immortal in my homeland!”
“Actually,” Frank said, “I have some bad news about that. See, I got more from my dad than strength.”
The giant snarled. “What are you talking about, war brat?”
“Tactics,” Frank said. “That’s my gift from Mars. A battle can be won before it’s ever fought by choosing the right ground.” He pointed over his shoulder. “We crossed the border a few hundred yards back. You’re not in Alaska anymore. Can’t you feel it, Al? You want to get to Alaska, you have to go through me.”
Slowly, understanding dawned in the giant’s eyes. He looked down incredulously at his wounded legs. Oil still poured from his calves, turning the ice black.
“Impossible!” the giant bellowed. “I’ll—I’ll—Gah!”
He charged at Frank, determined to reach the international boundary. For a split second, Frank doubted his plan. If he couldn’t use his gift again, if he froze, he was dead. Then he remembered his grandmother’s instructions:
It helps if you know the creature well. Check.
It also helps if you are in a life-and-death situation, such as combat. Double check.
The giant kept coming. Twenty yards. Ten yards.
“Frank?” Hazel called nervously.
Frank stood his ground. “I got this.”
Just before Alcyoneus smashed into him, Frank changed. He’d always felt too big and clumsy. Now he used that feeling. His body swelled to massive size. His skin thickened. His arms changed to stout front legs. His mouth grew tusks and his nose elongated. He became the animal he knew best—the one he’d cared for, fed, bathed, and even given indigestion to at Camp Jupiter.
Alcyoneus slammed into a full-grown ten-ton elephant.
The giant staggered sideways. He screamed in frustration and slammed into Frank again, but Alcyoneus was completely out of his weight division. Frank head-butted him so hard Alcyoneus flew backward and landed spread-eagled on the ice.
“You—can’t—kill me,” Alcyoneus growled. “You can’t—”
Frank turned back to his normal form. He walked up to the giant, whose oily wounds were steaming. The gems fell out of his hair and sizzled in the snow. His golden skin began to corrode, breaking into chunks.
Hazel dismounted and stood next to Frank, her sword ready. “May I?”
Frank nodded. He looked into the giant’s seething eyes. “Here’s a tip, Alcyoneus. Next time you choose the biggest state for your home, don’t set up base in the part that’s only ten miles wide. Welcome to Canada, idiot.”
Hazel’s sword came down on the giant’s neck. Alcyoneus dissolved into a pile of very expensive rocks.
For a while Hazel and Frank stood together, watching the remains of the giant melt into the ice. Frank picked up his rope.
“An elephant?” Hazel asked.
Frank scratched his neck. “Yeah. It seemed like a good idea.”
He couldn’t read her expression. He was afraid he’d finally done something so weird that she’d never want to be around him again. Frank Zhang: lumbering klutz, child of Mars, part-time pachyderm.
Then she kissed him—a real kiss on the lips, much better than the kind of kiss she’d given Percy on the airplane.
“You are amazing,” she said. “And you make a very hand some elephant.”
Frank felt so flustered that he thought his boots might melt through the ice. Before he could say anything, a voice echoed across the valley:
You haven’t won.
Frank looked up. Shadows were shifting across the nearest mountain, forming the face of a sleeping woman.
You will never reach home in time, taunted the voice of Gaea. Even now, Thanatos is attending the death of Camp Jupiter, the final destruction of your Roman friends.
The mountain rumbled as if the whole earth were laughing. The shadows disappeared.
Hazel and Frank looked at each other. Neither said a word. They climbed onto Arion and sped back toward Glacier Bay.



PERCY WAS WAITING FOR THEM. He looked mad.
He stood at the edge of the glacier, leaning on the staff with the golden eagle, gazing down at the wreckage he’d caused: several hundred acres of newly open water dotted with icebergs and flotsam from the ruined camp.
The only remains on the glacier were the main gates, which listed sideways, and a tattered blue banner lying over a pile of snow-bricks.
When they ran up to him, Percy said, “Hey,” like they were just meeting for lunch or something.
“You’re alive!” Frank marveled.
Percy frowned. “The fall? That was nothing. I fell twice that far from the St. Louis Arch.”
“You did what?” Hazel asked.
“Never mind. The important thing was I didn’t drown.”
“So the prophecy was incomplete!” Hazel grinned. “It probably said something like: The son of Neptune will drown a whole bunch of ghosts.”
Percy shrugged. He was still looking at Frank like he was miffed. “I got a bone to pick with you, Zhang. You can turn into an eagle? And a bear?”
“And an elephant,” Hazel said proudly.
“An elephant.” Percy shook his head in disbelief. “That’s your family gift? You can change shape?”
Frank shuffled his feet. “Um…yeah. Periclymenus, my ancestor, the Argonaut—he could do that. He passed down the ability.”
“And he got that gift from Poseidon,” Percy said. “That’s completely unfair. I can’t turn into animals.”
Frank stared at him. “Unfair? You can breathe underwater and blow up glaciers and summon freaking hurricanes—and it’s unfair that I can be an elephant?”
Percy considered. “Okay. I guess you got a point. But next time I say you’re totally beast—”
“Just shut up,” Frank said. “Please.”
Percy cracked a smile.
“If you guys are done,” Hazel said, “we need to go. Camp Jupiter is under attack. They could use that gold eagle.”
Percy nodded. “One thing first, though. Hazel, there’s about a ton of Imperial gold weapons and armor at the bottom of the bay now, plus a really nice chariot. I’m betting that stuff could come in handy.…”
It took them a long time—too long—but they all knew those weapons could make the difference between victory and defeat if they got them back to camp in time.
Hazel used her abilities to levitate some items from the bottom of the sea. Percy swam down and brought up more. Even Frank helped by turning into a seal, which was kind of cool, though Percy claimed his breath smelled like fish.
It took all three of them to raise the chariot, but finally they’d managed to haul everything ashore to a black sand beach near the base of the glacier. They couldn’t fit everything in the chariot, but they used Frank’s rope to strap down most of the gold weapons and the best pieces of armor.
“It looks like Santa’s sleigh,” Frank said. “Can Arion even pull that much?”
Arion huffed.
“Hazel,” Percy said, “I am seriously going to wash your horse’s mouth with soap. He says, yes, he can pull it, but he needs food.”
Hazel picked up an old Roman dagger, a pugio. It was bent and dull, so it wouldn’t be much good in a fight, but it looked like solid Imperial gold.
“Here you go, Arion,” she said. “High-performance fuel.”
The horse took the dagger in his teeth and chewed it like an apple. Frank made a silent oath never to put his hand near that horse’s mouth.
“I’m not doubting Arion’s strength,” he said carefully, “but will the chariot hold up? The last one—”
“This one has Imperial gold wheels and axle,” Percy said. “It should hold.”
“If not,” Hazel said, “this is going to be a short trip. But we’re out of time. Come on!”
Frank and Percy climbed into the chariot. Hazel swung up onto Arion’s back.
“Giddyup!” she yelled.
The horse’s sonic boom echoed across the bay. They sped south, avalanches tumbling down the mountains as they passed.

PERCY



FOUR HOURS.
That’s how long it took the fastest horse on the planet to get from Alaska to San Francisco Bay, heading straight over the water down the Northwest Coast.
That’s also how long it took for Percy’s memory to return completely. The process had started in Portland when he had drunk the gorgon’s blood, but his past life had still been maddeningly fuzzy. Now, as they headed back into the Olympian gods’ territory, Percy remembered everything: the war with Kronos, his sixteenth birthday at Camp Half-Blood, his trainer Chiron the centaur, his best friend Grover, his brother Tyson, and most of all Annabeth—two great months of dating, and then BOOM. He’d been abducted by the alien known as Hera. Or Juno…whatever.
Eight months of his life stolen. Next time Percy saw the Queen of Olympus, he was definitely going to give her a goddess-sized slap upside the head.
His friends and family must be going out of their minds. If Camp Jupiter was in such bad trouble, he could only guess what Camp Half-Blood must be facing without him.
Even worse: Saving both camps would be only the beginning. According to Alcyoneus, the real war would happen far away, in the homeland of the gods. The giants intended to attack the original Mount Olympus and destroy the gods forever.
Percy knew that giants couldn’t die unless demigods and gods fought them together. Nico had told him that. Annabeth had mentioned it too, back in August, when she’d speculated that the giants might be part of the new Great Prophecy—what the Romans called the Prophecy of Seven. (That was the downside of dating the smartest girl at camp: You learn stuff.)
He understood Juno’s plan: Unite the Roman and Greek demigods to create an elite team of heroes, then somehow convince the gods to fight alongside them. But first, they had to save Camp Jupiter.
The coastline began to look familiar. They raced past the Mendocino lighthouse. Shortly afterward, Mount Tam and the Marin headlands loomed out of the fog. Arion shot straight under the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco Bay.
They tore through Berkeley and into the Oakland Hills. When they reached the hilltop above the Caldecott Tunnel, Arion shuddered like a broken car and came to a stop, his chest heaving.
Hazel patted his sides lovingly. “You did great, Arion.”
The horse was too tired even to cuss: Of course I did great. What did you expect?
Percy and Frank jumped off the chariot. Percy wished there’d been comfortable seats or an in-flight meal. His legs were wobbly. His joints were so stiff, he could barely walk. If he went into battle like this, the enemy would call him Old Man Jackson.
Frank didn’t look much better. He hobbled to the top of the hill and peered down at the camp. “Guys…you need to see this.”
When Percy and Hazel joined him, Percy’s heart sank. The battle had begun, and it wasn’t going well. The Twelfth Legion was arrayed on the Field of Mars, trying to protect the city. Scorpions fired into the ranks of the Earthborn. Hannibal the elephant plowed down monsters right and left, but the defenders were badly outnumbered.
On her pegasus Scipio, Reyna flew around the giant Polybotes, trying to keep him occupied. The Lares had formed shimmering purple lines against a mob of black, vaporous shades in ancient armor. Veteran demigods from the city had joined the battle, and were pushing their shield wall against an onslaught of wild centaurs. Giant eagles circled the battlefield, doing aerial combat with two snake-haired ladies in green Bargain Mart vests—Stheno and Euryale.
The legion itself was taking the brunt of the attack, but their formation was breaking. Each cohort was an island in a sea of enemies. The Cyclopes’ siege tower shot glowing green cannonballs into the city, blasting craters in the forum, reducing houses to ruins. As Percy watched, a cannonball hit the Senate House and the dome partially collapsed.
“We’re too late,” Hazel said.
“No,” Percy said. “They’re still fighting. We can do this.”
“Where’s Lupa?” Frank asked, desperation creeping into his voice. “She and the wolves…they should be here.”
Percy thought about his time with the wolf goddess. He’d come to respect her teachings, but he’d also learned that wolves had limits. They weren’t front-line fighters. They only attacked when they had vastly superior numbers, and usually under the cover of darkness. Besides, Lupa’s first rule was self-sufficiency. She would help her children as much as she could, train them to fight—but in the end, they were either predator or prey. Romans had to fight for themselves. They had to prove their worth or die. That was Lupa’s way.
“She did what she could,” Percy said. “She slowed down the army on its way south. Now it’s up to us. We’ve got to get the gold eagle and these weapons to the legion.”
“But Arion is out of steam!” Hazel said. “We can’t haul this stuff ourselves.”
“Maybe we don’t have to.” Percy scanned the hilltops. If Tyson had gotten his dream message in Vancouver, help might be close.
He whistled as loud as he could—a good New York cab whistle that would’ve been heard all the way from Times Square to Central Park.
Shadows rippled in the trees. A huge black shape bounded out of nowhere—a mastiff the size of an SUV, with a Cyclops and a harpy on her back.
“Hellhound!” Frank scrambled backward.
“It’s okay!” Percy grinned. “These are friends.”
“Brother!” Tyson climbed off and ran toward Percy. Percy tried to brace himself, but it was no good. Tyson slammed into him and smothered him in a hug. For a few seconds, Percy could only see black spots and lots of flannel. Then Tyson let go and laughed with delight, looking Percy over with that massive baby brown eye.
“You are not dead!” he said. “I like it when you are not dead!”
Ella fluttered to the ground and began preening her feathers. “Ella found a dog,” she announced. “A large dog. And a Cyclops.”
Was she blushing? Before Percy could decide, his black mastiff pounced on him, knocking Percy to the ground and barking so loudly that even Arion backed up.
“Hey, Mrs. O’Leary,” Percy said. “Yeah, I love you too, girl. Good dog.”
Hazel made a squeaking sound. “You have a hellhound named Mrs. O’Leary?”“Long story.” Percy managed to get to his feet and wipe off the dog slobber. “You can ask your brother…”
His voice wavered when he saw Hazel’s expression. He’d almost forgotten that Nico di Angelo was missing.
Hazel had told him what Thanatos had said about searching for the Doors of Death in Rome, and Percy was anxious to find Nico for his own reasons—to wring the kid’s neck for having pretended he didn’t know Percy when he first came to camp. Still, he was Hazel’s brother, and finding him was a conversation for another time.
“Sorry,” he said. “But yeah, this is my dog, Mrs. O’Leary. Tyson—these are my friends, Frank and Hazel.”
Percy turned to Ella, who was counting all the barbs in one of her feathers.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “We were worried about you.”
“Ella is not strong,” she said. “Cyclopes are strong. Tyson found Ella. Tyson took care of Ella.”
Percy raised his eyebrows. Ella was blushing.
“Tyson,” he said, “you big charmer, you.”
Tyson turned the same color as Ella’s plumage. “Um…No.” He leaned down and whispered nervously, loud enough for all the others to hear: “She is pretty.”
Frank tapped his head like he was afraid his brain had short-circuited. “Anyway, there’s this battle happening.”
“Right,” Percy agreed. “Tyson, where’s Annabeth? Is any other help coming?”
Tyson pouted. His big brown eye got misty. “The big ship is not ready. Leo says tomorrow, maybe two days. Then they will come.”
“We don’t have two minutes,” Percy said. “Okay, here’s the plan.”
As quickly as possible, he pointed out which were the good guys and the bad guys on the battlefield. Tyson was alarmed to learn that bad Cyclopes and bad centaurs were in the giant’s army. “I have to hit pony-men?”
“Just scare them away,” Percy promised.
“Um, Percy?” Frank looked at Tyson with trepidation. “I just…don’t want our friend here getting hurt. Is Tyson afighter?”
Percy smiled. “Is he a fighter? Frank, you’re looking at General Tyson of the Cyclops army. And by the way, Tyson, Frank is a descendant of Poseidon.”
“Brother!” Tyson crushed Frank in a hug.
Percy stifled a laugh. “Actually he’s more like a great-great-…Oh, never mind. Yeah, he’s your brother.”
“Thanks,” Frank mumbled through a mouthful of flannel. “But if the legion mistakes Tyson for an enemy—”
” I’ve got it!” Hazel ran to the chariot and dug out the biggest Roman helmet she could find, plus an old Roman banner embroidered with SPQR.
She handed them to Tyson. “Put those on, big guy. Then our friends will know you’re on our team.”
“Yay!” Tyson said. “I’m on your team!”
The helmet was ridiculously small, and he put the cape on backward, like a SPQR baby bib.
“It’ll do,” Percy said. “Ella, just stay here. Stay safe.”
“Safe,” Ella repeated. “Ella likes being safe. Safety in numbers. Safety deposit boxes. Ella will go with Tyson.”
“What?” Percy said. “Oh…fine. Whatever. Just don’t get hurt. And Mrs. O’Leary—”
“ROOOF!”
“How do you feel about pulling a chariot?”




THEY WERE, WITHOUT A DOUBT, the strangest reinforcements in Roman military history. Hazel rode Arion, who had recovered enough to carry one person at normal horse speed, though he cursed about his aching hooves all the way downhill.
Frank transformed into a bald eagle—which Percy still found totally unfair—and soared above them. Tyson ran down the hill, waving his club and yelling, “Bad pony-men! BOO!” while Ella fluttered around him, reciting facts from the Old Farmer’s Almanac.
As for Percy, he rode Mrs. O’Leary into battle with a chariot full of Imperial gold equipment clanking and clink ing behind, the golden eagle standard of the Twelfth Legion raised high above him.
They skirted the perimeter of the camp and took the northernmost bridge over the Little Tiber, charging onto the Field of Mars at the western edge of the battle. A horde of Cyclopes was hammering away at the campers of the Fifth Cohort, who were trying to keep their shields locked just to stay alive.
Seeing them in trouble, Percy felt a surge of protective rage. These were the kids who’d taken him in. This was his family.
He shouted, “Fifth Cohort!” and slammed into the nearest Cyclops. The last things the poor monster saw were Mrs. O’Leary’s teeth.
After the Cyclops disintegrated—and stayed disintegrated, thanks to Death—Percy leaped off his hellhound and slashed wildly through the other monsters.
Tyson charged at the Cyclops leader, Ma Gasket, her chain-mail dress spattered with mud and decorated with broken spears.
She gawked at Tyson and started to say, “Who—?”
Tyson hit her in the head so hard, she spun in a circle and landed on her rump.
“Bad Cyclops Lady!” he bellowed. “General Tyson says GO AWAY!”
He hit her again, and Ma Gasket broke into dust.
Meanwhile Hazel charged around on Arion, slicing her spatha through one Cyclops after another, while Frank blinded the enemies with his talons.
Once every Cyclops within fifty yards had been reduced to ashes, Frank landed in front of his troops and transformed into a human. His centurion’s badge and Mural Crown gleamed on his winter jacket.
“Fifth Cohort!” he bellowed. “Get your Imperial gold weapons right here!”
The campers recovered from their shock and mobbed the chariot. Percy did his best to hand out equipment quickly.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Dakota urged, grinning like a madman as he swigged red Kool-Aid from his flask. “Our comrades need help!”
Soon the Fifth Cohort was equipped with new weapons and shields and helmets. They weren’t exactly consistent. In fact they looked like they’d been shopping at a King Midas clearance sale. But they were suddenly the most powerful cohort in the legion.
“Follow the eagle!” Frank ordered. “To battle!”
The campers cheered. As Percy and Mrs. O’Leary charged onward, the entire cohort followed—forty extremely shiny gold-plated warriors screaming for blood.
They slammed into a herd of wild centaurs that were attacking the Third Cohort. When the campers of the Third saw the eagle standard, they shouted insanely and fought with renewed effort.
The centaurs didn’t stand a chance. The two cohorts crushed them like a vise. Soon there was nothing left but piles of dust and assorted hooves and horns. Percy hoped Chiron would forgive him, but these centaurs weren’t like the Party Ponies he’d met before. They were some other breed. They had to be defeated.
“Form ranks!” the centurions shouted. The two cohorts came together, their military training kicking in. Shields locked, they marched into battle against the Earthborn.
Frank shouted, “Pila!”
A hundred spears bristled. When Frank yelled, “Fire!” they sailed through the air—a wave of death cutting through the six-armed monsters. The campers drew swords and advanced toward the center of the battle.
At the base of the aqueduct, the First and Second Cohorts were trying to encircle Polybotes, but they were taking a pounding. The remaining Earthborn threw barrage after barrage of stone and mud. Karpoi grain spirits—those horrible little piranha Cupids—were rushing through the tall grass abducting campers at random, pulling them away from the line. The giant himself kept shaking basilisks out of his hair. Every time one landed, the Romans panicked and ran. Judging from their corroded shields and the smoking plumes on their helmets, they’d already learned about the basilisks’ poison and fire.
Reyna soared above the giant, diving in with her javelin whenever he turned his attention to the ground troops. Her purple cloak snapped in the wind. Her golden armor gleamed. Polybotes jabbed his trident and swung his weighted net, but Scipio was almost as nimble as Arion.
Then Reyna noticed the Fifth Cohort marching to their aid with the eagle. She was so stunned, the giant almost swatted her out of the air, but Scipio dodged. Reyna locked eyes with Percy and gave him a huge smile.
“Romans!” Her voice boomed across the fields. “Rally to the eagle!”
Demigods and monsters alike turned and gawked as Percy bounded forward on his hellhound.
“What is this?” Polybotes demanded. “What is this?”
Percy felt a rush of power coursing through the standard’s staff. He raised the eagle and shouted, “Twelfth Legion Fulminata!”
Thunder shook the valley. The eagle let loose a blinding flash, and a thousand tendrils of lightning exploded from its golden wings—arcing in front of Percy like the branches of an enormous deadly tree, connecting with the nearest monsters, leaping from one to another, completely ignoring the Roman forces.
When the lightning stopped, the First and Second
Cohorts were facing one surprised-looking giant and several hundred smoking piles of ash. The enemy’s center line had been charred to oblivion.
The look on Octavian’s face was priceless. The centurion stared at Percy with shock, then outrage. Then, when his own troops started to cheer, he had no choice except to join the shouting: “Rome! Rome!”
The giant Polybotes backed up uncertainly, but Percy knew the battle wasn’t over.
The Fourth Cohort was still surrounded by Cyclopes. Even Hannibal the elephant was having a hard time wading through so many monsters. His black Kevlar armor was ripped so that his label just said ant.
The veterans and Lares on the eastern flank were being pushed toward the city. The monsters’ siege tower was still hurling explosive green fireballs into the streets. The gorgons had disabled the giant eagles and now flew unchallenged over the giant’s remaining centaurs and the Earthborn, trying to rally them.
“Stand your ground!” Stheno yelled. “I’ve got free samples!”
Polybotes bellowed. A dozen fresh basilisks fell out of his hair, turning the grass to poison yellow. “You think this changes anything, Percy Jackson? I cannot be destroyed!Come forward, son of Neptune. I will break you!”
Percy dismounted. He handed Dakota the standard. “You are the cohort’s senior centurion. Take care of this.” Dakota blinked, then he straightened with pride. He dropped his Kool-Aid flask and took the eagle. “I will carry it with honor.”
“Frank, Hazel, Tyson,” Percy said, “help the Fourth Cohort. I’ve got a giant to kill.”
He raised Riptide, but before he could advance, horns blew in the northern hills. Another army appeared on the ridge—hundreds of warriors in black-and-gray camouflage, armed with spears and shields. Interspersed among their ranks were a dozen battle forklifts, their sharpened tines gleaming in the sunset and flaming bolts nocked in their crossbows.
“Amazons,” Frank said. “Great.”
Polybotes laughed. “You, see? Our reinforcements have arrived! Rome will fall today!”
The Amazons lowered their spears and charged down the hill. Their forklifts barreled into battle. The giant’s army cheered—until the Amazons changed course and headed straight for the monsters’ intact eastern flank.
“Amazons, forward!” On the largest forklift stood a girl who looked like an older version of Reyna, in black combat armor with a glittering gold belt around her waist.
“Queen Hylla!” said Hazel. “She survived!”
The Amazon queen shouted: “To my sister’s aid! Destroy the monsters!”
“Destroy!” Her troops’ cry echoed through the valley.
Reyna wheeled her pegasus toward Percy. Her eyes gleamed. Her expression said: I could hug you right now. She shouted, “Romans! Advance!”
The battlefield descended into absolute chaos. Amazon and Roman lines swung toward the enemy like the Doors of Death themselves.
But Percy had only one goal. He pointed at the giant.
“You. Me. To the finish.”

They met by the aqueduct, which had somehow survived the battle so far. Polybotes fixed that. He swiped his trident and smashed the nearest brick arch, unleashing a waterfall.
“Go on, then, son of Neptune!” Polybotes taunted. “Let me see your power! Does water do your bidding? Does it heal you? But I am born to oppose Neptune.”
The giant thrust his hand under the water. As the torrent passed through his fingers it turned dark green. He flung some at Percy, who instinctively deflected it with his will. The liquid splattered the ground in front of him. With a nasty hiss, the grass withered and smoked.
“My touch turns water to poison,” Polybotes said. “Let’s see what it does to your blood!”
He threw his net at Percy, but Percy rolled out of the way. He diverted the waterfall straight into the giant’s face. While Polybotes was blinded, Percy charged. He plunged Riptide into the giant’s belly then withdrew it and vaulted away, leaving the giant roaring in pain.
The strike would have dissolved any lesser monster, but Polybotes just staggered and looked down at the golden ichor —the blood of immortals—spilling from his wound. The cut was already closing.
“Good try, demigod,” he snarled. “But I will break you still.”
“Gotta catch me first,” Percy said.
He turned and bolted toward the city.
“What?” the giant yelled incredulously. “You run, coward? Stand still and die!”
Percy had no intention of doing that. He knew he couldn’t kill Polybotes alone. But he did have a plan.
He passed Mrs. O’Leary, who looked up curiously with a gorgon wriggling in her mouth.
“I’m fine!” Percy yelled as he ran by, followed by a giant screaming bloody murder.
He jumped over a burning scorpion and ducked as Hannibal threw a Cyclops across his path. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tyson pounding the Earthborn into the ground like a game of whack-a-mole. Ella was fluttering above him, dodging missiles and calling out advice: “The groin. The Earthborn’s groin is sensitive.”
SMASH!
“Good. Yes. Tyson found its groin.”
“Percy needs help?” Tyson called.
“I’m good!”
“Die!” Polybotes yelled, closing fast. Percy kept running.
In the distance, he saw Hazel and Arion galloping across the battlefield, cutting down centaurs and karpoi. One grain spirit yelled, “Wheat! I’ll give you wheat!” but Arion stomped him into a pile of breakfast cereal. Queen Hylla and Reyna joined forces, forklift and pegasus riding together, scattering the dark shades of fallen warriors. Frank turned himself into an elephant and stomped through some Cyclopes, and Dakota held the golden eagle high, blasting lightning at any monsters that dared to challenge the Fifth Cohort.
All that was great, but Percy needed a different kind of help. He needed a god.
He glanced back and saw the giant almost within arm’s reach. To buy some time, Percy ducked behind one of the aqueduct’s columns. The giant swung his trident. When the column crumbled, Percy used the unleashed water to guide the collapse—bringing down several tons of bricks on the giant’s head.
Percy bolted for the city limits.
“Terminus!” he yelled.
The nearest statue of the god was about sixty feet ahead. His stone eyes snapped open as Percy ran toward him.
“Completely unacceptable!” he complained. “Buildings on fire! Invaders! Get them out of here, Percy Jackson!”
“I’m trying,” he said. “But there’s this giant, Polybotes.”
“Yes, I know! Wait—Excuse me a moment.” Terminus closed his eyes in concentration. A flaming green cannonball sailed overhead and suddenly vaporized. “I can’t stop all the missiles,” Terminus complained. “Why can’t they be civilized and attack more slowly? I’m only one god.”
“Help me kill the giant,” Percy said, “and this will all be over. A god and demigod working together—that’s the only way to kill him.”
Terminus sniffed. “I guard borders. I don’t kill giants. It’s not in my job description.”
“Terminus, come on!” Percy took another step forward, and the god shrieked indignantly.
“Stop right there, young man! No weapons inside the Pomerian Line!”
“But we’re under attack.”
“I don’t care! Rules are rules. When people don’t follow the rules, I get very, very angry.”
Percy smiled. “Hold that thought.”
He sprinted back toward the giant. “Hey, ugly!”
“Rarrr!” Polybotes burst from the ruins of the aqueduct. The water was still pouring over him, turning to poison and creating a steaming marsh around his feet.
“You…you will die slowly,” the giant promised. He picked up his trident, now dripping with green venom.
All around them, the battle was winding down. As the last monsters were mopped up, Percy’s friends started gathering, forming a ring around the giant.
“I will take you prisoner, Percy Jackson,” Polybotes snarled. “I will torture you under the sea. Every day the water will heal you, and every day I will bring you closer to death.”
“Great offer,” Percy said. “But I think I’ll just kill you instead.”
Polybotes bellowed in rage. He shook his head, and more basilisks flew from his hair.
“Get back!” Frank warned.
Fresh chaos spread through the ranks. Hazel spurred Arion and put herself between the basilisks and the campers. Frank changed form—shrinking into something lean and furry…a weasel? Percy thought Frank had lost his mind, but when Frank charged the basilisks, they absolutely freaked out. They slithered away with Frank chasing after them in hot weasely pursuit.
Polybotes pointed his trident and ran toward Percy. As the giant reached the Pomerian Line, Percy jumped aside like a bullfighter. Polybotes barreled across the city limits.
“THAT’S IT!” Terminus cried. “That’s AGAINST THE RULES!”
Polybotes frowned, obviously confused that he was being told off by a statue. “What are you?” he growled. “Shut up!”
He pushed the statue over and turned back to Percy.
“Now I’m MAD!” Terminus shrieked. “I’m strangling you. Feel that? Those are my hands around your neck, you big bully. Get over here! I’m going to head-butt you so hard—”
“Enough!” The giant stepped on the statue and broke Terminus in three pieces—pedestal, body, and head.
“You DIDN’T!” shouted Terminus. “Percy Jackson, you’ve got yourself a deal! Let’s kill this upstart.”
The giant laughed so hard that he didn’t realize Percy was charging until it was too late. Percy jumped up, vaulting off the giant’s knee, and drove Riptide straight through one of the metal mouths on Polybotes’s breastplate, sinking the Celestial bronze hilt-deep in his chest. The giant stumbled backward, tripping over Terminus’s pedestal and crashing to the ground.
While he was trying to get up, clawing at the sword in his chest, Percy hefted the head of the statue.
“You’ll never win!” the giant groaned. “You cannot defeat me alone.”
“I’m not alone.” Percy raised the stone head above the giant’s face. “I’d like you to meet my friend Terminus. He’s a god!”
Too late, awareness and fear dawned in the giant’s face. Percy smashed the god’s head as hard as he could into the Polybotes’s nose, and the giant dissolved, crumbling into a steaming heap of seaweed, reptile skin, and poisonous muck.
Percy staggered away, completely exhausted.
“Ha!” said the head of Terminus. “That will teach him to obey the rules of Rome.”
For a moment, the battlefield was silent except for a few fires burning, and a few retreating monsters screaming in panic.
A ragged circle of Romans and Amazons stood around Percy. Tyson, Ella, and Mrs. O’Leary were there. Frank and Hazel were grinning at him with pride. Arion was nibbling contentedly on a golden shield.
The Romans began to chant, “Percy! Percy!”
They mobbed him. Before he knew it, they were raising him on a shield. The cry changed to, “Praetor! Praetor!”
Among the chanters was Reyna herself, who held up her hand and grasped Percy’s in congratulation. Then the mob of cheering Romans carried him around the Pomerian Line, carefully avoiding Terminus’s borders, and escorted him back home to Camp Jupiter.




THE FEAST OF FORTUNA HAD NOTHING to do with tuna, which was fine with Percy.
Campers, Amazons and Lares crowded the mess hall for a lavish dinner. Even the fauns were invited, since they’d helped out by bandaging the wounded after the battle. Wind nymphs zipped around the room, delivering orders of pizza, burgers, steaks, salads, Chinese food, and burritos, all flying at terminal velocity.
Despite the exhausting battle, everyone was in good spirits. Casualties had been light, and the few campers who’d previously died and come back to life, like Gwen, hadn’t been taken to the Underworld. Maybe Thanatos had turned a blind eye. Or maybe Pluto had given those folks a pass, like he had for Hazel. Whatever the case, nobody complained.
Colorful Amazon and Roman banners hung side-by-side from the rafters. The restored golden eagle stood proudly behind the praetor’s table, and the walls were decorated with cornucopias—magical horns of plenty that spilled out recycling waterfalls of fruit, chocolate, and fresh-baked cookies.
The cohorts mingled freely with the Amazons, jumping from couch to couch as they pleased, and for once the soldiers of the Fifth were welcome everywhere. Percy changed seats so many times, he lost track of his dinner.
There was a lot of flirting and arm-wrestling—which seemed to be the same thing for the Amazons. At one point Percy was cornered by Kinzie, the Amazon who’d disarmed him in Seattle. He had to explain that he already had a girlfriend. Fortunately Kinzie took it well. She told him what had happened after they’d left Seattle—how Hylla had defeated her challenger Otrera in two consecutive duels to the death, so that the Amazons were now calling their queen Hylla Twice-Kill.
“Otrera stayed dead the second time,” Kinzie said, batting her eyes. “We have you to thank for that. If you ever need a new girlfriend…well, I think you’d look great in an iron collar and an orange jumpsuit.”
Percy couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. He politely thanked her and changed seats.
Once everyone had eaten and the plates stopped flying, Reyna made a short speech. She formally welcomed the Amazons, thanking them for their help. Then she hugged her siste rand everybody applauded.
Reyna raised her hands for quiet. “My sister and I haven’t always seen eye to eye—”
Hylla laughed. “That’s an understatement.”
“She joined the Amazons,” Reyna continued. “I joined Camp Jupiter. But looking around this room, I think we both made good choices. Strangely, our destinies were made possible by the hero you all just raised to praetor on the battlefield—Percy Jackson.”
More cheering. The sisters raised their glasses to Percy and beckoned him forward.
Everybody asked for a speech, but Percy didn’t know what to say. He protested that he really wasn’t the best person for praetor, but the campers drowned him out with applause. Reyna took away his probatio neck plate. Octavian shot him a dirty look, then turned to the crowd and smiled like this was all his idea. He ripped open a teddy bear and pronounced good omens for the coming year—Fortuna would bless them!He passed his hand over Percy’s arm and shouted: “Percy Jackson, son of Neptune, first year of service!”
The Roman symbols burned onto Percy’s arm: a trident, SPQR, and a single stripe. It felt like someone was pressing a hot iron into his skin, but Percy managed not to scream.
Octavian embraced him and whispered, “I hope it hurt.”
Then Reyna gave him an eagle medal and purple cloak, symbols of the praetor. “You earned these, Percy.”
Queen Hylla pounded him on the back. “And I’ve decided not to kill you.”
“Um, thanks,” Percy said.
He made his way around the mess hall one more time, because all the campers wanted him at their table. Vitellius the Lar followed, stumbling over his shimmering purple toga and readjusting his sword, telling everyone how he’d predicted Percy’s rise to greatness.
“I demanded he join the Fifth Cohort!” the ghost said proudly. “Spotted his talent right away!”
Don the faun popped up in a nurse’s hat, a stack of cookies in each hand. “Man, congrats and stuff! Awesome! Hey, do you have any spare change?”
All the attention embarrassed Percy, but he was happy to see how well Hazel and Frank were being treated. Everyone called them the saviors of Rome, and they deserved it. There was even talk about reinstating Frank’s great-grandfather, Shen Lun, to the legion’s roll of honor. Apparently he hadn’t caused the 1906 earthquake after all.
Percy sat for a while with Tyson and Ella, who were honored guests at Dakota’s table. Tyson kept calling for peanut-butter sandwiches, eating them as fast as the nymphs could deliver. Ella perched at his shoulder on top of the couch and nibbled furiously on cinnamon rolls.
“Cinnamon rolls are good for harpies,” she said. “June twenty-fourth is a good day. Roy Disney’s birthday, and Fortuna’s Feast, and Independence Day for Zanzibar. And Tyson.”
She glanced at Tyson, then blushed and looked away.

After dinner, the entire legion got the night off. Percy and hisfriends drifted down to the city, which wasn’t quite recovered from the battle, but the fires were out, most of the debris had been swept up, and the citizens were determined to celebrate.
At the Pomerian Line, the statue of Terminus wore a paper party hat.
“Welcome, praetor!” he said. “You need any giants’ faces smashed while you’re in town, just let me know.”“Thanks, Terminus,” Percy said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Yes, good. Your praetor’s cape is an inch too low on the left. There—that’s better. Where is my assistant? Julia!”
The little girl ran out from behind the pedestal. She was wearing a green dress tonight, and her hair was still in pigtails. When she smiled, Percy saw that her front teeth were starting to come in. She held up a box full of party hats.
Percy tried to decline, but Julia gave him the big adoring eyes.
“Ah, sure,” he said. “I’ll take the blue crown.”
She offered Hazel a gold pirate hat. “I’m gonna be Percy Jackson when I grow up,” she told Hazel solemnly.
Hazel smiled and ruffled her hair. “That’s a good thing to be, Julia.”
“Although,” Frank said, picking out a hat shaped like apolar bear’s head, “Frank Zhang would be good too.”
“Frank!” Hazel said.
They put on their hats and continued to the forum, which was lit up with multicolored lanterns. The fountains glowed purple. The coffee shops were doing a brisk business, and street musicians filled the air with the sounds of guitar, lyre, panpipes, and armpit noises. (Percy didn’t get that last one. Maybe it was an old Roman musical tradition.)
The goddess Iris must’ve been in a party mood too. As Percy and his friends strolled past the damaged Senate House, a dazzling rainbow appeared in the night sky. Unfortunately the goddess sent another blessing, too—a gentle rain of gluten-free R.O.F.L. cupcake simulations, which Percy figured would either make cleaning up harder, or rebuilding easier. The cupcakes would make great bricks.
For a while, Percy wandered the streets with Hazel and Frank, who kept brushing shoulders.
Finally he said, “I’m a little tired, guys. You go ahead.”
Hazel and Frank protested, but Percy could tell they wanted some time alone.
As he headed back to camp, he saw Mrs. O’Leary playing with Hannibal in the Field of Mars. Finally, she’d found a playmate she could roughhouse with. They frolicked around, slamming into each other, breaking fortifications, and generally having an excellent time.
At the fort gates, Percy stopped and gazed across the valley. It seemed like so long ago that he’d stood here with Hazel, getting his first good view of camp. Now he was more interested in watching the eastern horizon.
Tomorrow, maybe the next day, his friends from Camp
Half-Blood would arrive. As much as he cared about Camp Jupiter, he couldn’t wait to see Annabeth again. He yearned for his old life—New York and Camp Half-Blood—but something told him it might be a while before he returned home. Gaea and the giants weren’t done causing trouble—not by a long shot.
Reyna had given him the second praetor’s house on the Via Principalis, but as soon as Percy looked inside, he knew he couldn’t stay there. It was nice, but it was also full of Jason Grace’s stuff. Percy already felt uneasy taking Jason’s title of praetor. He didn’t want to take the guy’s house, too. Things would be awkward enough when Jason came back—and Percy was sure that he would be on that dragon-headed warship.
Percy headed back to the Fifth Cohort barracks and climbed into his bunk. He passed out instantly.

He dreamed he was carrying Juno across the Little Tiber.
She was disguised as a crazy old bag lady, smiling and singing an Ancient Greek lullaby as her leathery hands gripped Percy’s neck.
“Do you still want to slap me, dear?” she asked.
Percy stopped midstream. He let go and dumped the goddess in the river.
The moment she hit the water, she vanished and reappeared on the shore. “Oh, my,” she cackled, “that wasn’t very heroic, even in a dream!”
“Eight months,” Percy said. “You stole eight months of my life for a quest that took a week. Why?”
Juno tutted disapprovingly. “You mortals and your short lives. Eight months is nothing, my dear. I lost eight centuries once, missed most of the Byzantine Empire.”
Percy summoned the power of the river. It swirled around him, spinning into a froth of whitewater.
“Now, now,” Juno said. “Don’t get testy. If we are to defeat Gaea, our plans must be timed perfectly. First, I needed Jason and his friends to free me from my prison—”
“Your prison? You were in prison and they let you out?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, dear! I’m a sweet old woman. At any rate, you weren’t needed at Camp Jupiter until now, to save the Romans at their moment of greatest crisis. The eight months between…well, I do have other plans brewing, my boy. Opposing Gaea, working behind Jupiter’s back, protecting your friends—it’s a full-time job! If I had to guard you from Gaea’s monsters and schemes as well, and keep you hidden from your friends back east all that time—no, much better you take a safe nap. You would have been a distraction—a loose cannon.”
“A distraction.” Percy felt the water rising with his anger, spinning faster around him. “A loose cannon.”
“Exactly. I’m glad you understand.”
Percy sent a wave crashing down on the old woman, but Juno simply disappeared and materialized farther down the shore.
“My,” she said, “you are in a bad mood. But you know I’m right. Your timing here was perfect. They trust you now. You are a hero of Rome. And while you slept, Jason Grace has learned to trust the Greeks. They’ve had time to build the Argo II. Together, you and Jason will unite the camps.”
“Why me?” Percy demanded. “You and I never got along. Why would you want a loose cannon on your team?”
“Because I know you, Percy Jackson. In many ways, you are impulsive, but when it comes to your friends, you are as constant as a compass needle. You are unswervingly loyal, and you inspire loyalty. You are the glue that will unite the seven.”
“Great,” Percy said. “I always wanted to be glue.”
Juno laced her crooked fingers. “The Heroes of Olympus must unite! After your victory over Kronos in Manhattan…well, I fear that wounded Jupiter’s self-esteem.”
“Because I was right,” Percy said. “And he was wrong.”
The old lady shrugged. “He should be used to that, after so many eons married to me, but alas! My proud and obstinate husband refuses to ask mere demigods for help again. He believes the giants can be fought without you, and Gaea can be forced back to her slumbers. I know better. But you must prove yourself. Only by sailing to the ancient lands and closing the Doors of Death will you convince Jupiter that you are worthy of fighting side-by-side with the gods. It will be the greatest quest since Aeneas sailed from Troy!”
“And if we fail?” Percy said. “If Romans and Greeks don’t get along?”
“Then Gaea has already won. I’ll tell you this, Percy Jackson. The one who will cause you the most trouble is the one closest to you—the one who hates me most.”
“Annabeth?” Percy felt his anger rising again. “You never liked her. Now you’re calling her a troublemaker? You don’t know her at all. She’s the person I most want watching my back.”
The goddess smiled dryly. “We will see, young hero. She has a hard task ahead of her when you arrive in Rome. Whether she is up to it…I do not know.”
Percy summoned a fist of water and smashed it down at the old lady. When the wave receded, she was gone.
The river swirled out of Percy’s control. He sank into the darkness of the whirlpool.


THE NEXT MORNING, PERCY, HAZEL, AND FRANK ate break fast early, then headed into the city before the senate was due to convene. As Percy was a praetor now, he could go pretty much wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
On the way, they passed the stables, where Tyson and Mrs. O’Leary were sleeping in. Tyson snored on a bed of hay next to the unicorns, a blissful look on his face like he was dreaming of ponies. Mrs. O’Leary had rolled on her back and covered her ears with her paws. On the stable roof, Ella roosted in a pile of old Roman scrolls, her head tucked under her wings.
When they got to the forum, they sat by the fountains and watched the sun come up. The citizens were already busy sweeping up cupcake simulations, confetti, and party hats from last night’s celebration. The engineer corps was working on a new arch that would commemorate the victory over Polybotes.
Hazel said she’d even heard talk of a formal triumph for the three of them—a parade around the city followed by a week of games and celebrations—but Percy knew they’d never get the chance. They didn’t have time.
Percy told them about his dream of Juno.
Hazel frowned. “The gods were busy last night. Show him, Frank.”
Frank reached into his coat pocket. Percy thought he might bring out his piece of firewood, but instead he produced a thin paperback book and a note on red stationery.
“These were on my pillow this morning.” He passed them to Percy. “Like the Tooth Fairy visited.”
The book was The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Percy had never heard of it, but he could guess who sent it. The letter read: Good job, kid. A real man’s best weapon is his mind. This was your mom’s favorite book. Give it a read. P.S.—I hope your friend Percy has learned some respect for me.
“Wow.” Percy handed back the book. “Maybe Mars is different than Ares. I don’t think Ares can read.”
Frank flipped through the pages. “There’s a lot in hereabout sacrifice, knowing the cost of war. Back in Vancouver, Mars told me I’d have to put my duty ahead of my life or the entire war would go sideways. I thought he meant freeing Thanatos, but now…I don’t know. I’m still alive, so maybe the worst is yet to come.”
He glanced nervously at Percy, and Percy got the feeling Frank wasn’t telling him everything. He wondered if Mars had said something about him, but Percy wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Besides, Frank had already given enough. He had watched his family home burn down. He’d lost his mother and his grandmother.
“You risked your life,” Percy said. “You were willing to burn up to save the quest. Mars can’t expect more than that.”
“Maybe,” Frank said doubtfully.
Hazel squeezed Frank’s hand.
They seemed more comfortable around each other this morning, not quite as nervous and awkward. Percy wondered if they’d started dating. He hoped so, but he decided it was better not to ask.
“Hazel, how about you?” Percy asked. “Any word from Pluto?”
She looked down. Several diamonds popped out of the ground at her feet. “No,” she admitted. “In a way, I think he sent a message through Thanatos. My name wasn’t on that list of escaped souls. It should have been.”
“You think your dad is giving you a pass?” Percy asked.
Hazel shrugged. “Pluto can’t visit me or even talk to me without acknowledging I’m alive. Then he’d have to enforce the laws of death and have Thanatos bring me back to the Underworld. I think my dad is turning a blind eye. I think—I think he wants me to find Nico.”
Percy glanced at the sunrise, hoping to see a warship descending from the sky. So far, nothing.
“We’ll find your brother,” Percy promised. “As soon as the ship gets here, we’ll sail for Rome.”
Hazel and Frank exchanged uneasy looks, like they’d already talked about this.
“Percy…” Frank said. “If you want us to come along, we’re in. But are you sure? I mean…we know you’ve got tons of friends at the other camp. And you could pick anyone at Camp Jupiter now. If we’re not part of the seven, we’d understand—”
“Are you kidding?” Percy said. “You think I’d leave my team behind? After surviving Fleecy’s wheat germ, running from cannibals, and hiding under blue giant butts in Alaska? Come on!”
The tension broke. All three of them started cracking up, maybe a little too much, but it was a relief to be alive, with the warm sun shining, and not worrying—at least for the moment—about sinister faces appearing in the shadows of the hills.
Hazel took a deep breath. “The prophecy Ella gave us—about the child of wisdom, and the mark of Athena burning through Rome…do you know what that’s about?”
Percy remembered his dream. Juno had warned that Annabeth had a difficult job ahead of her, and that she’d cause trouble for the quest. He couldn’t believe that, but still…it worried him.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I think there’s more to the prophecy. Maybe Ella can remember the rest of it.”
Frank slipped his book into his pocket. “We need to take her with us—I mean, for her own safety. If Octavian finds out Ella has the Sibylline Books memorized…”
Percy shuddered. Octavian used prophecies to keep his power at camp. Now that Percy had taken away his chance at praetor, Octavian would be looking for other ways to exert influence. If he got hold of Ella…
“You’re right,” Percy said. “We’ve got to protect her. I just hope we can convince her—”
“Percy!” Tyson came running across the forum, Ella fluttering behind him with a scroll in her talons. When they reached the fountain, Ella dropped the scroll in Percy’s lap.
“Special delivery,” she said. “From an aura. A wind spirit.
Yes, Ella got a special delivery.”
“Good morning, brothers!” Tyson had hay in his hair and peanut butter in his teeth. “The scroll is from Leo. He is funny and small.”
The scroll looked unremarkable, but when Percy spread it across his lap, a video recording flickered on the parchment. A kid in Greek armor grinned up at them. He had an impish face, curly black hair, and wild eyes, like he’d just had several cups of coffee. He was sitting in a dark room with timber walls like a ship’s cabin. Oil lamps swung back and forth on the ceiling.
Hazel stifled a scream.
“What?” Frank asked. “What’s wrong?”
Slowly, Percy realized the curly-haired kid looked familiar—and not just from his dreams. He’d seen that face in an old photo.
“Hey!” said the guy in the video. “Greetings from your friends at Camp Half-Blood, et cetera. This is Leo. I’m the…” He looked off screen and yelled: “What’s my title? Am I like admiral, or captain, or—”
A girl’s voice yelled back, “Repair boy.”
“Very funny, Piper,” Leo grumbled. He turned back to the parchment screen. “So yeah, I’m ... ah ... supreme commander of the Argo II. Yeah, I like that! Anyway, we’re gonna be sailing toward you in about, I dunno, an hour in this big mother warship. We’d appreciate it if you’d not, like, blow us out of the sky or anything. So okay! If you could tell the Romans that. See you soon. Yours in demigodishness, and all that. Peace out.”
The parchment turned blank.
“It can’t be,” Hazel said.
“What?” Frank asked. “You know that guy?”
Hazel looked like she’d seen a ghost. Percy understood why. He remembered the photo in Hazel’s abandoned house in Seward. The kid on the warship looked exactly like Hazel’s old boyfriend.
“It’s Sammy Valdez,” she said. “But how…how—”
“It can’t be,” Percy said. “That guy’s name is Leo. And it’s been seventy-something years. It has to be a…”
He wanted to say a coincidence, but he couldn’t make himself believe that. Over the past few years he’d seen a lot of things: destiny, prophecy, magic, monsters, fate. But he’d never yet run across a coincidence.
They were interrupted by horns blowing in the distance. The senators came marching into the forum with Reyna at the lead.
“It’s meeting time,” Percy said. “Come on. We’ve got to warn them about the warship.”

“Why should we trust these Greeks?” Octavian was saying.
He’d been pacing the senate floor for five minutes, going on and on, trying to counter what Percy had told them about Juno’s plan and the Prophecy of Seven.
The senate shifted restlessly, but most of them were too afraid to interrupt Octavian while he was on a roll. Meanwhile the sun climbed in the sky, shining through the broken senate roof and giving Octavian a natural spotlight.
The Senate House was packed. Queen Hylla, Frank, and Hazel sat in the front row with the senators. Veterans and ghosts filled the back rows. Even Tyson and Ella had been allowed to sit in the back. Tyson kept waving and grinning at Percy.
Percy and Reyna occupied matching praetors’ chairs on the dais, which made Percy self-conscious. It wasn’t easy looking dignified wearing a bed sheet and a purple cape.
“The camp is safe,” Octavian continued. “I’ll be the first to congratulate our heroes for bringing back the legion’s eagle and so much Imperial gold! Truly we have been blessed with good fortune. But why do more? Why tempt fate?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Percy stood, taking the question as an opening.
Octavian stammered, “I wasn’t—”
“—part of the quest,” Percy said. “Yes, I know. And you’re wise to let me explain, since I was.”
Some of the senators snickered. Octavian had no choice but to sit down and try not to look embarrassed.
“Gaea is waking,” Percy said. “We’ve defeated two of her giants, but that’s only the beginning. The real war will take place in the old land of the gods. The quest will take us to Rome, and eventually to Greece.”
An uneasy ripple spread through the senate.
“I know, I know,” Percy said. “You’ve always thought of the Greeks as your enemies. And there’s a good reason for that. I think the gods have kept our two camps apart because whenever we meet, we fight. But that can change. It has to change if we’re to defeat Gaea. That’s what the Prophecy of Seven means. Seven demigods, Greek and Roman, will have to close the Doors of Death together.”
“Ha!” shouted a Lar from the back row. “The last time a praetor tried to interpret the Prophecy of Seven, it was Michael Varus, who lost our eagle in Alaska! Why should we believe you now?”
Octavian smiled smugly. Some of his allies in the senate began nodding and grumbling. Even some of the veterans looked uncertain.
“I carried Juno across the Tiber,” Percy reminded them, speaking as firmly as he could. “She told me that the Prophecy of Seven is coming to pass. Mars also appeared to you in person. Do you think two of your most important gods would appear at camp if the situation wasn’t serious?”
“He’s right,” Gwen said from the second row. “I, for one, trust Percy’s word. Greek or not, he restored the honor of the legion. You saw him on the battlefield last night. Would anyone here say he is not a true hero of Rome?”
Nobody argued. A few nodded in agreement.
Reyna stood. Percy watched her anxiously. Her opinion could change everything—for better or worse.
“You claim this is a combined quest,” she said. “You claim Juno intends for us to work with this—this other group, Camp
Half-Blood. Yet the Greeks have been our enemies for eons.
They are known for their deceptions.”
“Maybe so,” Percy said. “But enemies can become friends. A week ago, would you have thought Romans and Amazons would be fighting side by side?”
Queen Hylla laughed. “He’s got a point.”
“The demigods of Camp Half-Blood have already been working with Camp Jupiter,” Percy said. “We just didn’t realize it. During the Titan War last summer, while you were attacking Mount Othrys, we were defending Mount Olympus in Manhattan. I fought Kronos myself.”
Reyna backed up, almost tripping over her toga. “You… what?”
“I know it’s hard to believe,” Percy said. “But I think I’ve earned your trust. I’m on your side. Hazel and Frank—I’m sure they’re meant to go with me on this quest. The other four are on their way from Camp Half-Blood right now. One of them is Jason Grace, your old praetor.”
“Oh, come on!” Octavian shouted. “He’s making things up, now.”
Reyna frowned. “It is a lot to believe. Jason is coming back with a bunch of Greek demigods? You say they’re going to appear in the sky in a heavily armed warship, but we shouldn’t be worried.”
“Yes.” Percy looked over the rows of nervous, doubtful spectators. “Just let them land. Hear them out. Jason will backup everything I’m telling you. I swear it on my life.”
“On your life?” Octavian looked meaningfully at the senate. “We will remember that, if this turns out to be a trick.”
Right on cue, a messenger rushed into the Senate House, gasping as if he’d run all the way from camp. “Praetors! I’m sorry to interrupt, but our scouts report—”
“Ship!” Tyson said happily, pointing at the hole in the ceiling. “Yay!
Sure enough, a Greek warship appeared out of the clouds, about a half a mile away, descending toward the Senate House. As it got closer, Percy could see bronze shields glinting along the sides, billowing sails, and a familiar-looking figurehead shaped like a metal dragon. On the tallest mast, a big white flag of truce snapped in the wind.
The Argo II. It was the most incredible ship he’d ever seen.
“Praetors!” the messenger cried. “What are your orders?”
Octavian shot to his feet. “You need to ask?” His face was red with rage. He was strangling his teddy bear. “The omens are horrible! This is a trick, a deception. Beware Greeks bearing gifts!”
He jabbed a finger at Percy. “His friends are attacking in a warship. He has led them here. We must attack!”
“No,” Percy said firmly. “You all raised me as praetor for a reason. I will fight to defend this camp with my life. But these aren’t enemies. I say we stand ready, but do not attack. Let them land. Let them speak. If it is a trick, then I will fight with you, as I did last night. But it is not a trick.”
All eyes turned toward Reyna.
She studied the approaching warship. Her expression hardened. If she vetoed Percy’s orders…well, he didn’t know what would happen. Chaos and confusion, at the very least.
Most likely, the Romans would follow her lead. She’d been their leader much longer than Percy.
“Hold your fire,” Reyna said. “But have the legion stand ready. Percy Jackson is your duly chosen praetor. We will trus this word—unless we are given clear reason not to. Senators, let us adjourn to the forum and meet our…new friends.”
The senators stampeded out of the auditorium—whether from excitement or panic, Percy wasn’t sure. Tyson ran after them, yelling, “Yay! Yay!” with Ella fluttering around his head.
Octavian gave Percy a disgusted look, then threw down his teddy bear and followed the crowd.
Reyna stood at Percy’s shoulder.
“I support you, Percy,” she said. “I trust your judgment. But for all our sakes, I hope we can keep the peace between our campers and your Greek friends.”
“We will,” he promised. “You’ll see.”
She glanced up at the warship. Her expression turned a little wistful. “You say Jason is aboard…I hope that’s true.
I’ve missed him.”
She marched outside, leaving Percy alone with Hazel and Frank.
“They’re coming down right in the forum,” Frank said nervously. “Terminus is going to have a heart attack.”
“Percy,” Hazel said, “you swore on your life. Romans take that seriously. If anything goes wrong, even by accident, Octavian is going to kill you. You know that, right?”
Percy smiled. He knew the stakes were high. He knew this day could go horribly wrong. But he also knew that Annabeth was on that ship. If things went right, this would be the best day of his life.
He threw one arm around Hazel and one arm around Frank.
“Come on,” he said. “Let me introduce you to my other family.”

I've already read the son of neptune in a book, but I'm going to say that you kind of forgot to put the beginning of the book. You only put the end. Anyway. Can you read my story. Just link